The Christmas holidays at the Burrow, filled with warmth, laughter, and the subtle, intoxicating scent of family, only served to solidify Ginny's unexpected affection for Harry. His earnestness, his quiet kindness, and his genuine happiness in their company had chipped away at her colder, more calculating resolve. She found herself growing increasingly fond of him, to a degree that surprised even herself. This burgeoning attachment, paradoxically, only strengthened her determination to protect him, to "tame" him, and to accelerate her plans for his Horcrux. The sooner she acted, the sooner he would be truly free.
Her thoughts, ever practical, turned to the broader concept of power. A truly strong wizard, she mused, should not only possess formidable magical prowess but also a robust physical body. Magical power, she reasoned, was inherently linked to the vessel that contained it. A weak body would invariably limit even the most potent magical core. With this epiphany, Ginny began to devise a rigorous physical training regimen for herself, incorporating elements of both Muggle martial arts and various exercises she had gleaned from her expansive assimilated knowledge. Running, stretching, calisthenics – a systematic approach to strengthening her physical form.
Then, an even more brilliant, if slightly manipulative, idea sparked. Harry. He too needed a stronger body. His haphazard diet and lack of consistent physical activity, combined with the immense, untamed magical energy simmering within him, made him a volatile, potentially self-destructive, force. She would 'enroll' him in her training regimen. It would not only serve his best interests, making him healthier and more capable, but also deepen their bond, further weaving him into the fabric of her control.
One brisk morning, as Harry was attempting to rescue a runaway gnome from the garden, Ginny approached him. "Harry," she began, her voice earnest, "I've been thinking. You're the Boy-Who-Lived, you face dangers no one else does. Relying solely on magic isn't always enough."
Harry looked at her, his brow furrowed with curiosity. "What do you mean, Ginny?"
"Physical training," she explained, her eyes shining with feigned enthusiasm. "Muggle exercises, martial arts… it's all about strengthening your body, making you faster, more agile, better able to defend yourself even without your wand. It's a new branch of self-defense I've been studying." She carefully omitted any mention of her own prodigious growth in power or her more nefarious underlying intentions.
Harry, ever open to new ideas that promised to make him stronger, and perhaps a little tired of always being the one needing saving, seemed intrigued. "You really think it would help?"
"Absolutely," Ginny affirmed, her smile radiating conviction. "Imagine being able to dodge a curse, or disarm an opponent, even if you don't have your wand ready. It's about being prepared for anything." She laid out a simplified version of her regimen, focusing on basic exercises and simple self-defense movements.
Harry, after a moment's consideration, nodded. "Okay, Ginny. I'm in."
And so began their secret training sessions in the quiet corners of the Burrow's garden. Ginny, a relentless and demanding instructor, pushed Harry, teaching him basic stretches, calisthenics, and rudimentary martial arts forms. She observed him closely, her Soul Perception noting the subtle shifts in his magical core as his body adapted. He possessed a raw, untapped talent, a natural athleticism hidden beneath layers of academic neglect. He learned quickly, absorbing her instructions like a sponge, though his discipline often wavered.
'He's a blank canvas,' Ginny mused, a chilling satisfaction settling in her heart. 'So much raw potential, so little direction.' She would be the sculptor, shaping him, honing him, turning him into a formidable weapon, loyal to her. The thought sent a thrill through her. She was not just training Harry Potter; she was forging him, molding him into the hero she needed him to be.
The Christmas holidays, once a time for rest and familial warmth, had become a period of intense preparation. As the last lingering remnants of festive cheer faded, and the Hogwarts Express once again prepared to whisk them back to the castle, Ginny felt a renewed sense of purpose. Her grand designs, now intertwined with Harry's destiny, were steadily taking shape. The forge of the hero had begun, and Ginny, the silent architect, was ready for the next phase.
The return to Hogwarts after the Christmas holidays felt less like an end to a blissful break and more like a return to her true calling. Ginny embraced her advanced classes with a fervor that startled even her professors. Transfiguration with McGonagall, in particular, became a dance of intricate magical theory and precise execution, pushing the boundaries of what she believed possible. Charms with Flitwick was equally exhilarating, his enthusiasm infectious as he guided her through ever more complex spellcasting. Her magical proficiency soared, each lesson a revelation, each spell a testament to her growing power.
One quiet evening, while meticulously reviewing her status screen after a particularly intense session of self-study, Ginny noticed a subtle shift, a new flicker among her Innate Abilities.
Name: Ginevra Molly Weasley Race: Witch Magic: 7.2 Body: 1.2 Spirit: 7.1 Innate Abilities: Assimilate 1/3 (regen: 1/year (Total: 7/decade)), Parseltongue, Magic Perception, Superior Logical Processing Unit (1/1), Soul Perception, Soul Binding (0/1) Skills: Cooking Lv.3 (4/4000), Flying Lv.5 (121/16000) Magicks: Enchantment Lv.8 (1000/128000), Transfiguration Lv.8 (1000/128000), Dark Magic Lv.9 (1012000/1024000), Mind Magic Lv.7 (100/64000)
"Soul Binding (0/1)." Her eyes narrowed, intrigued. Focusing on the words, a flood of theoretical knowledge rushed into her mind, a comprehensive understanding of the intricate dance of connecting souls. It wasn't about merging, but about linking, establishing a profound magical connection between two or more souls. The exact mechanism, the conditions required for a truly unbreakable bond, remained hazy, but the potential was staggering.
Her thoughts immediately went to Harry. After she assimilated the Horcrux, after she freed his soul from the parasitic fragment, she would apply Soul Binding. It would not only serve to further strengthen his already resilient soul, but also, crucially, forge a deeper, more profound link between them. It would be a subtle tether, a quiet assurance of his unwavering loyalty, and an additional source of power for her.
Her research in Soul Magic intensified. She delved deeper into arcane texts, focusing specifically on ancient rituals, believing that the raw, fundamental power of ritual magic held the key to unlocking the full potential of Soul Binding. She practiced minor rituals, carefully observing the subtle shifts in magical energy, the ebb and flow of intentions. A few small, innocuous rituals proved successful, confirming her hypothesis and bolstering her confidence.
Meanwhile, her 'taming' of Gilderoy Lockhart progressed swimmingly. His colossal ego was a tool she wielded with practiced ease. With a steady stream of wide-eyed admiration and flattering compliments, she gently steered him towards revealing the location of his "secret vault." Lockhart, utterly convinced of her unwavering adoration, practically skipped to the revelation, leading her to a hidden chamber behind a tapestry in his office.
Ginny's anticipation, however, quickly deflated. The vault, rather than holding legendary artifacts or potent magical secrets, was filled with an astonishing collection of self-portraits, signed copies of his books, and various useless trinkets he had collected as "souvenirs" from his fabricated adventures. "Pathetic," she muttered under her breath, a faint sneer gracing her lips.
Yet, amidst the clutter, one item caught her eye: a Self-Writing Quill. It was a mundane object to the untrained eye, but Ginny immediately recognized its value. It would save her countless hours of tedious note-taking, freeing up her time for more critical research and magical experimentation. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.
Despite the disappointing contents of his vault, Ginny decided to continue cultivating Lockhart. His fame, however undeserved, was still a valuable currency in the wizarding world, and his unshakeable belief in his own brilliance made him an easily manipulated asset. He might yet prove useful, a pawnbroker of influence she could cash in when the time was right. The threads of her grand design were slowly, meticulously, being woven. Harry's soul, Lockhart's ego, and her own burgeoning power – all were pieces on her chessboard, waiting for her next move.
The first few weeks back at Hogwarts unfolded with a rhythm that Ginny found increasingly satisfying. Her accelerated classes pushed her magical boundaries, and her continued, subtle training sessions with Harry, though sporadic due to their differing schedules, filled her with a quiet contentment. She watched him, a genuine smile often gracing her lips, as he diligently practiced the physical exercises she had taught him. The thought of their impending Soul Binding ritual, the final step before the Horcrux's removal, resonated within her, a complex mix of anticipation and a surprising warmth.
Ginny spent her free moments meticulously preparing for the ritual. She cross-referenced ancient texts, ensuring every ingredient was precise, every rune perfectly inscribed, every chant correctly pronounced. The components were surprisingly simple, focusing more on intent and magical resonance than exotic materials. The timing, however, was crucial, requiring a precise alignment of magical energies and a state of deep magical tranquility.
One moonlit night, cloaked in a powerful disillusionment charm she had perfected, Ginny made her way to the Headmaster's office. She wasn't there for the Philosopher's Stone, which now resided within her own magical core. Instead, she was there to observe. Dumbledore's magical presence, she noted, was immense, a towering beacon of light and intricate power. She traced the complex wards and protections around his office, a masterpiece of arcane defense. Her cynical view of him, refined by fanfiction, remained, but she couldn't deny his formidable magical prowess. 'A dangerous opponent,' she mused, 'but predictable in his self-righteousness.' The sheer scale of his power reaffirmed her need for strategic growth, for unparalleled mastery.
After observing the subtle flow of magic around the office and committing its intricate warding patterns to memory, Ginny returned to the Gryffindor dormitory. It was well past midnight, and the only sounds were the soft snores of her roommates. She moved silently, preparing her chosen ritual space in the quiet corner of the room.
She then approached Harry's bed. He was fast asleep, his youthful face peaceful in the dim light. Ginny hesitated for a fraction of a second, a fleeting pang of something akin to remorse flickering through her. This was manipulation, undeniable and profound. Yet, it was for his benefit, she rationalized, and for her own. The Horcrux would be gone, and their souls would be irrevocably linked, ensuring his continued well-being and her subtle influence.
With a deep breath, she began the ritual. Her hands moved with practiced precision, tracing the intricate runes she had subtly enchanted onto his bedclothes, his pajamas, and even a faint, almost invisible mark on her own palm. The chants, whispered in Parseltongue, resonated with a deep, ancient magic, intertwining her intent with the very fabric of their souls.
A profound warmth spread from her core, reaching out, connecting with Harry's sleeping form. She felt a subtle pull, a gentle hum as invisible threads of magic began to weave between them. It wasn't forceful, not a violent merging, but a delicate, almost symbiotic linking. Harry stirred slightly, a soft sigh escaping his lips, but he remained asleep, oblivious to the momentous, unspoken act unfolding around him.
When the last syllable of the chant faded, the warmth lingered, a comforting echo of the newly forged connection. Ginny, exhausted but exhilarated, pulled up her status screen, her eyes immediately darting to the 'Soul Binding' ability.
Name: Ginevra Molly Weasley Race: Witch Magic: 7.3 Body: 1.2 Spirit: 7.2 Innate Abilities: Assimilate 1/3 (regen: 1/year (Total: 7/decade)), Parseltongue, Magic Perception, Superior Logical Processing Unit (1/1), Soul Perception, Soul Binding (1/1) - Linked with Harry James Potter (Bond: 1%) Skills: Cooking Lv.3 (4/4000), Flying Lv.5 (121/16000) Magicks: Enchantment Lv.8 (1200/128000), Transfiguration Lv.8 (1200/128000), Dark Magic Lv.9 (1015000/1024000), Mind Magic Lv.7 (1200/64000)
"Soul Binding (1/1) - Linked with Harry James Potter (Bond: 1%)." A surge of triumph coursed through her. It had worked. The bond was nascent, only 1% complete, but it was there, a foundational connection that would strengthen over time. She checked Harry's simplified stats, which she could now access through the bond. His core stats had seen a slight, almost imperceptible, increase, a beneficial side effect of the nascent link.
A contented sigh escaped her lips. The pieces were falling into place. Soon, the Horcrux would be hers, and Harry would be truly free. She would then present the carefully constructed narrative to Dumbledore, a tale of fortunate circumstances and fortuitous discoveries, one that would convince him of the Horcrux's successful removal, leaving her own actions, and the true extent of her power, entirely shrouded in mystery. The game had begun, and Ginny, the unseen puppet master, held all the threads.
The dawn after the Soul Binding ritual, Ginny felt a surge of exhilaration. The connection to Harry, nascent yet undeniable, hummed beneath her skin. The time for subtlety was over. Her immediate plan was clear: the Horcrux had to go. She was confident that the newly established Soul Binding would allow her to extract the parasitic soul fragment without causing Harry any lasting harm. In fact, she believed it would purify and strengthen him in the process, making him a healthier, more powerful vessel.
Her preparations for the assimilation ritual were swift and precise. The Room of Requirement, her ever-present sanctuary, was the ideal location. She gathered the few, precise ingredients needed, arcane components that resonated with the delicate magic of soul manipulation. The timing was crucial, requiring the quietest hours of the night when the castle slumbered, ensuring no interruptions.
With everything meticulously arranged, Ginny quietly approached Harry's bed. He was still deep in sleep, his brow unfurrowed, a stark contrast to the burdened reality he unknowingly carried. Ginny gently nudged his shoulder. "Harry," she whispered, her voice soft but firm.
Harry stirred, blinking groggily as he opened his eyes. He looked at her, his expression still clouded with sleep, but there was an immediate, unquestioning trust in his gaze. "Ginny? What is it?"
"I need to perform a healing ritual," she explained, her voice low and earnest. "There's… something bad inside you, something that's been draining your magic and your spirit. It's subtle, but it's dangerous. I can remove it, make you stronger, but it needs to be done now, in secret."
Harry, still half-asleep, seemed to process her words with remarkable speed, or perhaps it was the latent trust in her voice that swayed him. He nodded slowly. "Okay. If you think it'll help." His willingness, his implicit faith in her, sent a strange mixture of satisfaction and a faint prickle of guilt through Ginny. He was so easy to lead, so trusting. It made her task both simpler and, unexpectedly, heavier.
They slipped out of the dormitory and made their way to the Room of Requirement. Once inside, Ginny guided Harry to the center of the chamber, where a simple ritual circle had been prepared. The air thrummed with a quiet, ancient power.
"Just relax," Ginny instructed, her hands hovering over his chest, "and don't fight it."
She began the assimilation ritual. The words, ancient and guttural, flowed from her lips in Parseltongue, weaving a complex tapestry of magic. She focused her intent, pulling, drawing the dark, sickly black soul fragment she perceived within Harry towards herself.
For Ginny, the sensation was intensely familiar, yet magnified. A searing pain erupted in her chest, mirroring the agony of the Philosopher's Stone assimilation, but this time, it was accompanied by a chilling coldness, a sense of consuming darkness. She gritted her teeth, absorbing the malevolent energy, feeling the foreign essence merge with her own.
For Harry, the sensation was different, more subtle. He felt a fleeting, almost imperceptible pang of emptiness, a strange void where something had once resided. But then, it was replaced by a profound sense of lightness, a clarity of mind he hadn't realized he was missing. It was as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his very being, allowing his own vibrant green soul to expand, unburdened and unblemished. He felt… clean.
Ginny sensed the moment the Horcrux was completely absorbed, a final, chilling whisper of a dark soul fading into her own. She pulled up her status screen, her eyes gleaming with triumph.
Name: Ginevra Molly Weasley Race: Witch Magic: 8.5 Body: 1.5 Spirit: 8.3 Innate Abilities: Assimilate 1/3 (regen: 1/year (Total: 7/decade)), Parseltongue, Magic Perception, Superior Logical Processing Unit (1/1), Soul Perception, Soul Binding (1/1) - Linked with Harry James Potter (Bond: 5%) Skills: Cooking Lv.3 (4/4000), Flying Lv.5 (121/16000) Magicks: Enchantment Lv.8 (1500/128000), Transfiguration Lv.8 (1500/128000), Dark Magic Lv.10 (1/2048000), Mind Magic Lv.7 (1500/64000)
The numbers confirmed her immense success. Her core stats – Magic, Body, and Spirit – had surged, a direct result of absorbing another fragment of Voldemort's soul. Her Dark Magic had even leveled up to 10. The Philosopher's Stone had purified her core, and now the Horcrux had fueled it. She was more powerful than ever before. The Soul Binding bond had also strengthened, now at 5%.
Ginny looked at Harry, who was now sitting up, rubbing his chest, a bewildered but also relieved expression on his face. He looked... brighter. Lighter. The faint, sickly black taint in his soul was gone, replaced by a pure, unblemished emerald green.
'Next, we tame that chaotic core of his,' Ginny thought, a predatory glint in her eyes. His raw power, now untethered from the Horcrux, needed to be harnessed, disciplined. She would teach him control, shape him into a force to be reckoned with, one that served her purpose.
With Harry's liberation now complete, Ginny knew her next strategic move. It was time to contact Dumbledore. She would present him with a carefully crafted narrative, a tale of a mysterious healing and a fortunate outcome, one that would solidify her position as an invaluable, if enigmatic, ally, while keeping her true power and the details of her actions shrouded in secrecy. The game was escalating, and Ginny, holding all the cards, was ready to play.
The very next morning, after Harry had returned to the dormitory, refreshed and seemingly oblivious to the monumental event that had just occurred, Ginny made her way directly to Dumbledore's office. She bypassed the gargoyle with a confident stride, her mind already rehearsing the carefully constructed narrative she would present.
Dumbledore, seated behind his magnificent, claw-footed desk, looked up as she entered, his blue eyes twinkling with a familiar, seemingly benevolent warmth. "Ms. Weasley," he said, his voice soft, "a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Ginny adopted an expression of grave concern, her brow furrowed. "Professor Dumbledore," she began, her voice low and serious, "I'm afraid I have something rather urgent to report. Something… concerning about Harry."
Dumbledore's eyes sharpened, the twinkle replaced by an alert, discerning gaze. "Indeed?"
"Last night," Ginny continued, her tale weaving a delicate balance of truth and masterful fabrication, "I noticed Harry was… unwell. Not physically, but something was wrong with his magic, a subtle imbalance. I used a simple diagnostic charm I've been researching – a rather obscure one, I admit – and I detected a dark entity, a parasitic presence clinging to his soul. It was subtle, powerful, and utterly insidious." She watched Dumbledore's reaction closely, noting the flicker of surprise in his eyes, the almost imperceptible tightening of his lips.
"A dark entity, you say?" Dumbledore murmured, his gaze now piercing, searching. He was clearly intrigued, perhaps even alarmed. Ginny knew he was assessing her, weighing her words, undoubtedly wondering how a first-year had stumbled upon such dark knowledge.
"Yes, professor," Ginny affirmed, maintaining her earnest demeanor. "It felt ancient, deeply rooted. I realized it was draining his magical core, subtly poisoning him. So, I… I performed a healing ritual. It was a risky procedure, but I believe I managed to extract it completely. Harry seems much better this morning, lighter, clearer." She allowed a hint of exhaustion to creep into her voice, a subtle reinforcement of the "risky procedure" she had undertaken. "It felt like a fragment of a very powerful, very dark soul, Professor. Something… unnatural." She gave him a direct, knowing look, allowing him to connect the dots himself.
Dumbledore was silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on her. Ginny could almost hear the gears turning in his mind, the vast intellect processing her words, piecing together the implications. He knew of Voldemort's Horcruxes, she was certain. Her subtle hints were more than enough for him to draw the correct, albeit incomplete, conclusion.
"Remarkable, Ms. Weasley," Dumbledore finally said, his voice laced with genuine astonishment. "Truly remarkable. Your aptitude for defensive and indeed, cleansing magic, is beyond anything I have witnessed in a student of your age. You have done a great service to young Harry."
He then rose, his eyes distant, contemplative. "I must, of course, verify this myself."
Ginny led Dumbledore to Harry, who was currently enjoying a hearty breakfast in the Great Hall. Dumbledore, with a practiced subtlety, performed a series of diagnostic charms on Harry, his wand tracing intricate patterns in the air. Harry, oblivious to the true nature of the examination, simply accepted it as a routine check-up.
After a few moments, Dumbledore's eyes widened almost imperceptibly. The Horcrux was indeed gone. He looked at Ginny, a new respect, a profound sense of wonder, gleaming in his blue eyes.
Later that day, Dumbledore discreetly pulled Harry aside. "Harry," he said, his voice gentle, "it seems young Ms. Weasley discovered a rather unfortunate magical affliction clinging to you. A dark entity, a vestige of… well, of something very old and very dark. She, with remarkable courage and skill, performed a ritual and removed it. You are quite well now, I assure you." He wisely omitted the term "Horcrux," knowing it would only raise more questions than answers for Harry at this stage.
Harry's eyes immediately sought Ginny across the Great Hall. He gave her a shy, but deeply grateful smile, a silent acknowledgment of her perceived heroism. Ginny returned his smile, a perfect picture of innocent compassion.
Internally, a wave of profound satisfaction washed over her. She had done it. She had manipulated Dumbledore, confirming her manufactured narrative. She had solidified her image as a young, exceptionally talented, and genuinely benevolent witch. And most importantly, she had cemented Harry's trust, binding him to her not just through magic, but through a perceived act of selfless heroism. She felt a renewed sense of power, a chilling control over the narrative, over the destinies of those around her. The pieces were moving precisely as she intended.