A Familiar Face

Dead bodies littered the ground as Harry appeared. He was surprised there weren't more wearing the armor of the ice people, but Captain Nailoff had done an amazing job at organizing a defense with the fifty soldiers he had been left with. Dozens of Death Eaters were littering the yard of the fortress, most of them with smoking holes in their chest. Looking up, Harry could see the gun emplacements the ice soldiers had used to cut down the invaders.

He walked through the fortress, knowing where he was going, glad to see the place devoid of life. It meant the ice soldiers had followed his orders and vacated the island as soon as Voldemort and his Death Eaters had breached the inner defenses. The torches and lamps the Ice people had set up flickered as they lit the way down into the ruins beneath the former prison fortress. Harry was surprised to see that there weren't any Death Eaters around, figuring that Voldemort would have left a few behind to guard against the soldiers returning.

"Harry!" a female voice shouted from the darkness.

The young Lord of Polairix whirled around, wand in hand, only to let out a relieved breath when a familiar redhead ran out of the darkness, skidding to a halt when she found herself at wandpoint. "Thank goodness you're here," the girl cried, taking a tentative step forward.

Harry looked her over. Ginny looked like she had been through hell. Her robes were torn and charred, her skin was showing blisters and burns and bruises. Her red hair was smattered with mud and what looked to be dried blood, turning the fiery red color a dark coppery-brown. The girl's face was by far the worst off. One of her eyes was swollen shut, her lower lip was split, and blood was trickling from the corner of her mouth. Bloody gashes covered her cheeks, and there was a long line of red along her throat where Harry guessed someone had tried to slit her throat. Her eyes were wild and unfocused, gleaming with desperation and fear, and she was swaying on her feet in obvious exhaustion.

Looking around and finding no one else around, Harry relaxed his guard somewhat. Ginny's presence changed things; the way she looked, he needed to get her medical attention, whether she was the traitor or not. Despite all the facts pointing towards it, Harry really hoped that she wasn't - he had the feeling Voldemort wouldn't treat anyone like this, not even his enemies. Actually, Harry mused with grim realization, Voldemort did treat his enemies just like this… most just didn't live through it.

"What happened?" he asked, still cautious. He never lowered his wand, though he took a step towards her.

"It was Tonks," Ginny whispered hoarsely as her legs buckled and she collapsed to the ground. "She's a traitor, Harry! You've got to warn the others!"

Kneeling down next to her, Harry helped Ginny sit up against the wall. He shrugged off his cloak and covered her shivering form with it. "What do you mean?"

"She… she just walked into the library, right after you guys came back. I was there with F-Fred and George, we were helping Hermione with looking through a few b-books that she'd pulled out. H-Hermione stepped out for a moment to check on you, and Tonks just drew her wand and s-started throwing spells around!" Ginny sobbed hysterically. "T-Tonks, she blew Fred into the wall with some kind of dark curse, and he started bleeding, a-a-and she just cut up George. Oh Harry, it was awful!"

"What happened then?" Harry asked. He hated putting her through this, but what she was telling him was the first real clue to what had happened in the library of Nair'i'caix. A flicker of doubt started creeping up in his mind. Could Ginny actually be innocent? He had been the one who had concluded that Ginny was the traitor by her conspicuous absence, but even before that, Tonks had mysteriously gone missing. Maybe they had been too quick to jump to conclusions. Maybe Moody was right in his suspicions about the metamorphmagus's sudden disappearances. Even Dumbledore, whom she had claimed she was working for, had acknowledged that she had, at times, gone missing for far longer than they had planned.

"She… she took me," Ginny whispered. "To see him . Oh God, Harry…"

Harry shook his head. No, Tonks would never betray us. She hates Voldemort and what he stands for just as much as I do. She would never join him and do something like this, he thought. But then again, he was forced to admit the same about Ginny. The situation was giving him a headache. "Ginny," he called softly. "Are you sure it was Tonks? Absolutely sure?"

"Yes." She hiccupped and swallowed hard. "It was Tonks. They… Harry, the beating was the easiest part of it. They… they took me, and the Cruciatus…" she trailed off, shuddering. "They… they brought me here. I thought they were going to kill me, but they brought me here. I don't know why, but I managed to get away while they were fighting. And when the soldiers left, I… I just ran and hid."

"All right," Harry whispered soothingly. "It'll be all right." His animosity for the girl was put on the backburner. Right now, she needed his help, and what she'd been through eclipsed any pain she'd caused Harry. He did, after all, know how Voldemort treated his prisoners. All too well.

He held her for a while, until her breathing calmed and she stopped shuddering like a leaf in the wind. "Can you stand?" he asked. When she nodded faintly, he helped her up and reached into his robes, pulling out a silver medallion. "Here, this is a portkey that will take you back to Nair'i'caix. Use it. I need to go and take care of Voldemort."

"All right…" Ginny looked at the simple round piece of silver for a moment, before taking it, clenching her blood-encrusted hand around it. "Harry," she called out after he'd turned around.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry… for everything." Then she vanished, before Harry could respond.

...

Voldemort looked at the Rod of Dominion as it hung suspended in the air, behind its protective red barrier. He turned to look the traitor, who'd accompanied him. "Remarkable, isn't it? Such power in such a simple-looking staff. I'd expected something more… ornate."

The woman at his side remained impassive, the dagger in her hand still dripping blood. Behind her lay the three corpses of what remained of Voldemort's inner circle. After they had managed to penetrate this far down and reached the chamber with the Rod, Voldemort had given her the signal to kill them. The men had gone down pathetically easy, never really expecting to be stabbed in the back by the beaten and bruised woman who'd betrayed the Order of the Phoenix.

"Now, thanks to the texts you've brought me, my dear, I'll be able to access it." The dark wizard stretched out a hand, hovering it over the surface of the red barrier, almost caressing it.

"Not if I stop you first, Tom." The voice came from the entrance to the hall, and Voldemort snapped around in surprise.

"Didn't I already kill you, old man?" he hissed in annoyance.

Albus Dumbledore strode into the brightly-lit room. "You didn't do a very good job of it," the headmaster replied with a hint of humor. He was walking slowly, carefully. As he had planned, he had awoken from his coma with Fawkes's help while the fortress of Nair'i'caix was deserted, and everyone had left for the battle at the Ministry. Fawkes had teleported him to Azkaban, where he'd made his way down into the catacombs to await Voldemort. He was surprised at the woman's presence, his eyes narrowing as he realized that he had been wrong in assuming the identity of the traitor.

Voldemort shrugged. "It'll be a pleasure to finish it, then," he snarled, drawing his wand. The woman in the room stepped back as the two mages began circling each other. The dark wizard looked over his shoulder at the traitor briefly. "Go bring Potter here. And bring the prisoner. This is something I want him to see."

"Yes, Master," the woman replied stoically, before leaving the room. Dumbledore looked after for a moment, before Voldemort began firing off spells. The old headmaster no longer had time to think as he was forced on the defensive.

....

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