Chapter Five: A Vision in Madness

Harry surveyed the crime scene with a lump of bile rising in his throat. The M.L.E.S. had done a good job of marking and labeling the physical evidence. That would make his job easier. Glancing around, he noted Ron walking towards him.

“Hell of a mess,” Harry said softly.

“Brutal,” Ron agreed. “I haven’t seen anything this nasty since the war.”

“It doesn’t carry any of the trademarks of a Death Eater attack,” Harry observed. “In fact, it looks rather like a Muggle did this.”

“It does,” Ron agreed, “but I don’t think this was the work of a Muggle. There’d be no reason for them attack a patient at St. Mungo’s, even if they knew where it was.”

“Why attack Kathleen, period? She’s been locked in the loony bin for years. I don’t see any way for her to upset anyone. There’s always the possibility that this was a random attack, I suppose,” Harry said. “We can’t be sure until I examine the room.”

“You want to look at the initial scans?”

“No, thanks,” Harry said absent-mindedly. “Do you mind clearing everyone out? I’m going to try something that’s supposed to be purely theoretical.”

“Will it hold up in court?”

“It should. It’s Hermione Weasley theory. That’s usually pretty unshakeable.” Exchanging a grin, Harry and Ron separated. Moments later, the few people who’d been snapping photographs and marking mysterious things down on clipboards exited the room and Harry was able to observe the crime scene alone.

They had yet to remove the body, and the grotesque position of the corpse had initially made Harry a little light-headed. Having survived a war with Voldemort, he was intimately acquainted with death, but time had softened him and he was no longer used to seeing such atrocities. There was no need for it, he thought bitterly, sinking to a squatting position, looking around the room. He was no criminal investigator, but he could tell the majority of the crime had been done the Muggle way. He was looking, then, for remnants of a Silencing Charm, or something <else?> that would have prevented the Healers on duty from noticing that such a violent, presumably noisy, crime was taking place.

The other problem was the amount of time the killer had to commit the crime. Killing someone this brutally would be slow, especially if the victim were conscious enough to fight her attacker, as it looked like Kathleen had from the bruises and scrapes on her arms.

Rising to his feet, Harry spread out his arms and said in a quiet but firm voice, “Narratio.” His ability to perform magic without a wand had developed during the war with Voldemort, but he preferred not to demonstrate his talent in front of large crowds.

Instantly, the room came alight, a web of colors displaying all the magic that had taken place in this room within the last day. Immediately, he was able to detect the pattern for a restraining charm, distinctly marked by pulsing red in loops around the bed posts. There were some other frivolous charms, like the one that had, at some point, produced flowers on the coffee table. That was an interesting piece of magic for someone who didn’t have very many visitors, Harry thought. Perhaps a kindly nurse had performed the charm. There wasn’t anyone on the visitors list for the last several days, but the murderer hadn’t signed in when he showed up to kill her, either.

He walked over to the window, where the assailant had obviously entered. There was evidence of a hastily attempted, but failed, Reparo charm. Someone had tried to cover his tracks and had failed miserably. Or maybe he just felt guilty about destroying St. Mungo’s property because there was no sign that he had broken in using a spell.

“Ron!” Harry called as he walked over to the body, examining the web of magic that surrounded it, and was immediately fascinated by what he saw.

Barreling inside, Ron rushed to Harry’s side, then gaped a bit at the colorful web surrounding him. “Blimey, is this what Hermione’s been up to lately?”

“Yes,” Harry said distractedly. “Look Ron. See that line from the bed to where the body is laying now?”

“Yeah,” Ron said. “Does that mean they moved her body magically?”

Harry nodded. “Doesn’t make much sense, does it? You break into St. Mungo’s using some sort of crude Muggle tool, you break a witch’s neck, supposedly through a severe trauma, also without magic, but you move the body magically and attempt to repair the glass of the window as you escape?”

“Strange,” Ron muttered. “Not a very smart move on our criminal’s part. Although we would have never guessed that she broke her neck elsewhere and then was moved here.”

Harry nodded. “I think he, or she, was very careful about this. I’m surer now than ever that this was planned. I don’t think we can lay the blame of this one on a random crazy person. Whoever did this was out to get Kathleen specifically.”

“Are we certain they broke her neck the Muggle way?” Ron asked, leaning down to turn the head of the body.

“It looks to me like there are finger marks,” Harry commented. “I suppose it could be magical bruising. Has anyone scanned the body for curse residue?”

“That’s usually done at the lab,” Ron said, pushing himself all the way upright. “It seems to me that someone went a long way out of their way to make sure you thought it was a Muggle or a Squib that did this.”

“Odd how it happens the night before you’re supposed to visit, too,” Ron said. “Especially since Ginny’s been having those dreams, visions, whatever.”

“Seems like a lot of coincidences. There’s a lot of interest springing up suddenly about my mum and dad, and I’d like to know why.” Harry ended the spell with a wave of his hand and walked out of the door. “I mean, Ginny starts to have the dreams, and then Remus pulls Kathleen out of nowhere…. I’ve got a sneaking suspicion I’m not being told the whole truth about something.”

“Do you suppose someone or something is sending Ginny the dreams?”

“I don’t know,” Harry admitted, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “She can’t sleep at night. She’s irritable during the day, and sometimes she starts crying for no reason. You know, more so than she has been because of the pregnancy.”

Ron winced in sympathy. “That’s rough, mate.”

“I just don’t want something to happen to her or the baby. If she doesn’t get enough rest, and she can’t take care of herself, well… The Healers think she definitely needs to get more sleep, otherwise there might be complications in labor. She might be too tired to push, and then they’ll have to open her up magically. That’s always more complicated.”

Ron sighed and moved to the door, opening it for Harry. “Harry, why don’t you concentrate on figuring out the Ginny problem, yeah? I’ll focus on working out who did this here.”

Harry yawned and stretched. “Ginny’s dreams sound more and more like visions every day,” he said. “We haven’t had much luck doing research to try and fix this problem, so I think I’m going to go visit Hogwarts’ resident Divination expert.”

Ron paused and turned. “Trelawney? Are you out of your mind? The woman’s mental.”

“No, Ron. Firenze.”

“Oh, right. I knew you meant that,” Ron said, stuffing his hands in his pockets, a bit embarrassed. “Let me know how that goes, will you? I don’t think you’ll get much out of him. He never was very comprehensible in school.”

“Of course. You’ll hear from me tonight, no matter what.” Harry said, laying a hand on Ron’s shoulder.

“I appreciate that,” Ron said, shaking his head. “She’s my baby sister, yeah? If anyone’s deserved an easy life, it’s you and Ginny.”

“No one agrees with you more than I do,” Harry said with a sigh, and at that, the two friends shook hands quickly and went their separate ways.

**

Ginny was tired. In a back-aching, tunnel-vision, mind-numbing sort of way. It was bad enough to be nearly nine months pregnant, but now Ginny was afraid to even close her eyes. Sometimes the visions, as she had come to think of them, were pleasant, but other times they were downright disturbing, and they were never restful.

In desperation, she’d gone to the Healer once more and demanded something to help her sleep, uninterrupted by dreams. Unfortunately, all the potions that performed this duty were considered unsafe to be used by pregnant women, though the Healers were very concerned about her lack of rest.

Ginny had begun to wonder if this was going to be her life – visions every night and unrelenting exhaustion during the day. She simply couldn’t live this way. Before the baby came, she would need to rest. How would she cope with a lifetime of restless nights?

There was a knock on the door and Ginny waddled her way to answer it. When she saw who was, she smiled sympathetically and enveloped Remus in a warm hug.

“Hello, Remus,” she said, stepping aside. “Please, come in.”

There was an awkward silence as Ginny searched for something to say to Remus that would acknowledge his loss. Although she had no idea how close Remus had been to Kathleen, she knew it would still be painful to lose anyone from her class of Gryffindors and imagined it would be the same for him, as well.

“Remus, I’m so sorry….”

Remus swallowed and smiled painfully. “I’m fine, Ginny. It’s just a bit strange to be the only one left. I’m not really here to wallow in my misery, though. Has Harry or Ron sent you any word about how the investigation’s going?”

“No. Harry left earlier this morning. Ron said that the dark magic scans had come back with strange results, so they called in Harry.”

Remus chuckled a bit distractedly. “I don’t know why Harry insists on calling himself a professional Quidditch player when his real expertise lies in the Dark Arts. I suppose he needed a break.”

Ginny smiled. “I think it lets him sleep easier at night. Would you like a cup of tea while you’re here, Remus?”

Remus shook his head and sat down on the couch in the living room. “No, I’m fine. I was here primarily to see how you are doing.”

Ginny took a seat very slowly. She was reminded once again that Remus was one of the best Defense teachers she’d ever had. “I can’t sleep at night. The dreams are all-consuming, and they’ve increased in intensity.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking and I’ve been doing some research,” Remus said, leaning forward a bit. “Harry sent word to me that he’s planning to speak to Firenze later today. Perhaps he’ll know more about this than I do, but I think that Lily’s trying to communicate with you. It’s either that, or someone is trying to drive you insane.”

“I’ve come to that conclusion as well,” Ginny said honestly. “The visions definitely seem to be purposeful -- more so now than they used to be.”

After a pause, Remus spoke. “How often would you say that Harry visits the Potter vault at Gringotts?”

“Why do you ask?” Ginny leaned forward, curious now.

“It might be helpful in the long run. I’ll explain but how often would you say he goes?

“Oh, whenever he wants to make a deposit. We don’t make that many withdrawals. House payments and that sort of thing are taken out automatically. So… maybe once a month? Even then, I don’t think he actually goes in the vault.”

“I wonder… Lily was doing some pretty serious work for the Order, and more specifically for Dumbledore, towards the end of her life. Maybe this has something to do with that.”

“Why has it become so urgent all of a sudden, though?” Ginny asked. “You would think, if it’s so important, it would have come up before this.”

“I can’t give you the answers right now,” Remus said honestly. “There’s nothing left at the original house in Godric’s Hollow. The only thing I can think of that might have anything physical of value in solving this mystery is the vault. I know James had a great deal of trust in the loyalty of the goblins, so they kept a lot of the valuables there..”

“I can access the vault at Gringotts by myself,” Ginny said, “but I don’t feel comfortable doing it without Harry.”

“I’ll doubt they’ll take you on the carts inside the bank while you’re pregnant,” Remus said, laughing a bit. “They would be very afraid you’ll go into labor down there. Goblins aren’t the most empathetic creatures.”

Ginny giggled. “Well, I wouldn’t want to go into labor at the Gringotts bank either.”

“I’m confident we’re going to get this worked out before that becomes a problem,” Remus said honestly. “You’ve got some of the best minds in Britain working on this.”

“I hope so,” Ginny said shakily, “because I don’t know how much longer I can hold on to my sanity.”

**

Hermione scanned the letter from Remus, informing her of the recent steps he and Harry had taken to try and work out what was causing Ginny’s visions. The end of the letter impressed the urgency the situation had developed.

“So many odd connections,” Hermione said out loud, pacing around her library and pulling down a book from the shelf. Flipping through it at random, she sighed in impatience. “We should be able to do more, somehow. It’s on the tip of my tongue….”

“Talking to yourself is the first sign of insanity, you know,” her husband’s voice said from behind her.

“Ron!” Whirling around, she smiled brilliantly at Ron, who crossed the room and embraced her. Exchanging a kiss, Hermione wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulders. “What are you doing home?”

“I had a bit of a break at work,” Ron said, “and I just thought I’d pop home and see how you’re doing.”

“I was wracking my brain, trying to come up with a solution for Ginny. I hope Harry doesn’t put all his trust in Firenze having a solution. He never struck me as being particularly helpful.”

“No, he’s not,” Ron admitted. “He’s of the opinion that humans aren’t capable of true Divination.”

“He’s probably right on that score,” Hermione said, swaying slightly, enjoying the feeling of being wrapped up in Ron’s arms. Ron was always so warm. “Remember during fifth year when…”

“What?” Ron pulled back suddenly, watching in amusement as Hermione closed her eyes and moved her lips in a silent dialog with herself.

“Occlumency! Using Leglimens usually requires eye contact, but Harry and Voldemort were able to do it because of their odd connection.”

“So, what’s the connection between Lily and Ginny, then?” Ron asked. “Lily didn’t try and kill Ginny.”

“No, but it seems to me that someone’s after Ginny, or maybe Ginny and Harry,” Hermione said with a sigh. “And it couldn’t be at a worse time.”

“Do you think that’s a coincidence?” Ron asked. “I mean, if I were interested in destroying someone, either physically or mentally, I would attack them while they were in a vulnerable state.”

“Being eight months pregnant is about as vulnerable as it gets,” Hermione said. “If this person, whomever he or she is, is after Ginny’s physical health, then she needs to be guarded all the time.”

“Agreed. But she’s not going to like it,” Ron said with a sheepish grin. “She’s going to rip my head right off.”

“Maybe it would be best if Harry tried to stay with her as much as possible. There’s not much better protection in the world than Harry. When he’s not there, one of us should be there. We can be subtle about this.”

Ron snorted. “Well, we can try. We are Weasleys, after all.”

**

Author’s Notes: Thanks go once again to Daily Prophet Reporting, my fabulous Phoenix Song beta and also to Kat Morning, my other beta. They both do a fabulous job.