Exiled Years

CHAPTER 3: Insight


The white linens were something Ginny never could get used to. They insisted on her wearing the ridiculous “traditional clothes of the ancient oracles.” It made Ginny snort. Traditional? There was nothing traditional about her or her ascent to Oracle of Delphi. Her prophetic powers had manifested in her fifth year at Hogwarts because that was what she was, an oracle. She shouldn’t have been this strong though. She should have been less than half this strong. But the times had called for a stronger oracle and she had been molded.

Shifting in her seat, Ginny wished it was traditional for an oracle to get a cushion to sit on. Stone was rather uncomfortable. Looking around her, a faint breeze shifted her robes. The open Grecian building, still standing after all these years, was a magnificent building if she did say so herself. She’d been sent there in her sixth year to be the oracle and was amazed by its beauty. Truth be told she still was.

“Pythia,” she heard some one say.

“Yes, Orphel,” she said, not turning around in her seat. She had long given up trying to get him to call her by her real name, Ginny. But he insisted. ‘Tradition,’ he said, ‘says that the speaker of Apollo was called Pythia. You are the speaker, Miss Weasley, you are Pythia.’

“You have two visitors, Messrs. Thomas and Finningan,” Orphel, replied, sweeping his curly, shoulder-length hair from his eyes. “They were...quite persistent.”

A smile crept on Ginny’s lips. “I can only imagine, Orphel.”

Orphel had lived a sheltered life in Kira, a city not too far from Delphi. He’d been told before he could walk that he would be a servant of the Pythia, and to his eternal delight, he was. He was Ginny’s main priest, or scribe, or whatever he was. Growing up in a family of seven where attention was sometimes sparse, Ginny had enjoyed his lavish adoration of her for a while before she became sickened by it. Now he was an annoyance, a nice and definitely handsome annoyance, but an annoyance. He wouldn’t be used to the lively way her friends acted, nor their jokes and smiles. He would be upset by them, never knowing them himself.

“Let them in.”

Orphel nodded obediently and left her. A breeze picked up again and Ginny breathed in the sea. It was a ways away, she knew, but she liked to imagine she could smell it. On good days she could.

“Ginny!” the booming voice of Dean Thomas said over the revered silence of the temple. Ginny could only smile.

“Ginny!” Dean’s companion, Seamus Finnigan, said. They both looked terribly out of place.

“Dean, Seamus,” Ginny said warmly, “how nice of you to come and visit me. I’m afraid I don’t get many visitors now a day.”

“Not with the likes of that Orphium fellow trotting about,” Dean snorted.

“Orphel,” Ginny corrected absently.

“Yeah,” Seamus said. “What log did he get stuck up his ass?”

Ginny chuckled and smiled at her friends. “What is this nonsense?” she asked. “Here I am sitting on a stone seat and I’ve not hugged either of you!”

Ginny got up from her seat and practically hopped down the stairs to greet the two. “This is better,” she said, wrapping her arms around both Dean and Seamus.

“Come one, Gin,” Seamus said in a complaining voice, dislodging her from him.

“Yeah,” Dean said, “you’ll embarrass him. Me on the other hand...just tell me when you need to get away. I know a nice place...”

Ginny punched him in the arm, a playful smile on her face as he waggled his eyebrows at her. “Dean Thomas, I’m the oracle, I can’t do things like that!”

Seamus snorted. “Well you’re going to have to.”

Ginny raised an eyebrow at him. At least Seamus had the courtesy to blush...well...kind of. “I didn’t mean that, Ginny,” he quickly corrected. “You need to leave Delphi. You’re not safe here anymore. There are people looking for you...Death Eaters, Gin.”

“I know,” Ginny said sadly. She’d seen it. But she’d been disturbed before she could finish her vision. “I know.”

“I wonder,” a chilling voice said from behind a pillar. “Really, I do. What could the Dark Lord Voldemort want with a pathetic Weasley?”

Ginny had not seen this. Draco Malfoy stood in front of her, his goons Crabbe and Goyle looking as sinister as always, looming about like a bunch of stupid apes.

“Gin,” Dean said, “get behind me.”

Ginny sighed. “No, Dean.” Putting her hand on his shoulder, she looked up at him. “I’ll be fine. You have to go and tell Hermione about this, remember.”

“We’ve got to protect you, Gin,” Seamus said. “Herm’s orders.”

Ginny smiled at Seamus. “I know what I’m doing, Seamus.”

“You should listen to the oracle, Finnigan,” Malfoy said in a hard voice, filled with mocking and hate. “She is, after all, the Pythia.”

Ginny gritted her teeth but turned to Dean and Seamus. “You must go the Hermione and tell her this. ‘An eagle sinks in the south. New winds blow from the West. If they meet, disaster will fill this world and the Wonder of Death’s Maiden will rise again.’ Tell her this; she will know what I mean. Go now.”

She could see Dean’s uncertainty. But he raised his wand hand in the air and Dissaparated.

“I hope you know what you are doing, Ginny,” Seamus said. “Hermione’ll be upset.” Then he disappeared like Dean.

That left Ginny with Malfoy. He leaned against a pillar, a smirk on his lips and his goons smiling wildly.

“That was so much easier than I thought it would be,” he said with a toss of his head.

“Try not to touch anything,” Ginny said coldly. “I wouldn’t want my pillars all covered with Slytherin slime as yourself. And do keep you lackeys away from Orphel; I’m rather fond of him. He’ll be coming with me of course, a formality for a lady you understand. I’ll need a few minutes to pack, perhaps a bath if you’re not in too much of a hurry. Would you like some food? Wine perhaps? The younger wines are finer that the older I’m afraid, bad crops in the last fifty years or so, no oracle you understand, to bless the crops.”

Ginny began to busy herself with some wine glasses and food, preparing it for her guest. That was until a strong hand grabbed his wrist, she looked up at Mafoy, hoping not too much fear was written in her eyes.

“I’ll just wait. You have two hours,” he said coolly. Then he sneered at her and threw her hand down.

Ginny stood there for a moment, contemplating. Then she frowned and went across the yard to her quarters, Orphel following her obediently. He didn’t look too disturbed, but then, he didn’t have too much personality either.

“Will I be packing for a long trip, Pythia,” he asked.

“Yes, Orphel, a rather long one I’m afraid,” she replied, sitting at her vanity and unbraiding her hair. Letting it fall down her butt, she combed it gently while Orphel busied himself with her belongings. Ginny sighed and fingered her hair. It had been a long time since it was short. Colin was dead she reminded herself with a sigh.

After a short bath, Ginny combed and dried her hair the magical way, braiding the intricate loops and folds of the traditional hair style of the oracles in seconds with the help of magic. Lookirounround the room, Ginny saw that almost everything was gone.

“Orphel,” Ginny said quietly. “I’d like to dictate a letter to you.”

“Yes, Pythia,” he said quickly.


Draco looked at her as she came back to the main building. She sure had changed since the last time he’d seen her. Given that had been five years ago when she was a mere sixth year, but it had been a great change. She had always been a cute girl, really, brown eyes somehow intriguing and her creamy skin just pale enough to accent her flaming hair. But now...now she was a woman, and a very beautiful one. She had gained something, some regal air, in the time he’d not seen her, and it was strangely alluring. She carried herself like a goddess among mortals, and in a way, she was. Ginny Weasley could see the Future, a dangerous thing to oppose but a powerful thing to control.

She looked at him with half interest and half disdain; then whispered something to Orphel before walking up the steps.

“I trust you’re ready, Miss Weasley,” Draco said the coolest voice he had.

She pulled back a braid onto her intricate spiral of hair and frowned up at him. He noticed she wasn’t really that tall, nor that big. She was very petite actually. Though she did have nice curves, she definitely didn’t look like her mother; her hips were a bit too slim for heavy child birth. “Yes,” she replied. “I’m ready.”

Draco held out his hand to her, but she stayed where she was. “I’m going to Apparate you, Miss Weasley. Can’t afford to have you escaping, now can we?”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Only Orphel Apparates me, Mr. Malfoy. Don’t worry, I’ve seen that I must do this, I won’t try to escape. So unless you want Orphel to Apparate you too, have a bit of faith.”

Draco gritted his teeth. “Fine, Miss Weasley. Just remember I have the means to kill you need be.”

She looked at him straightly for a moment, before she smiled and laughed merrily in his face. “Mr. Malfoy, you can’t kill me. You’ll never become a Serpent of Blood if you do! Come now; tell Orphel where we are going.”

“Malfoy Manor,” Draco ground out between clenched teeth. Ginny let out another twinkle of a laugh as Orphel grabbed her hand and they disappeared.

“Crabbe, Goyle,” Draco said after a moment. “I want you two to watch that Orphel closely.”

“Yes, Draco,” Crabbe said a small smile on his face. Draco knew what they were thinking and it disgusted him. Rolling his eyes, he Apparated onto Malfoy lands. Ginny and Orphel were standing and talking quietly together not too far off. Goyle and Crabbe appeared not too far away from him and began walking to Ginny and her servant.

“Miss Weasley!” Draco called. “This way please!”

Ginny’s head turned, her auburn locks reflecting off the sun and making them look copper. She said something else to Orphel and began walking toward him. She gave Crabbe and Goyle a nasty look as she approached. Apparently she knew what they wanted to do with Orphel.

“Well, Miss Weasley,” Draco said, starting to walk off to the manner, “I believe it is time for me to get my promotion. This way, now.”

He was stopped by a small hand on his arm. He turned sharply to Ginny, about ready to yell at her, until he understood what was going on. Her eyes were glowing a silvery white alue lue color and a light seemed to frame her small form.

“Draco Malfoy, beware the gifts of Voldemort the Deceiver. When the Age of the Wastelands comes you will be first cursed on the Dais of Death.”

Then her body swayed and Orphel caught her deftly. He’s quicker than he looks, Draco thought to himself. Lifting Ginny in his arms, Orphel smoothed the hair away from her face and kissed her forehead.

Orphel looked at Draco with mild interest. “You’d do well to listen to what Pythia says, Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco held eye contact with Orphel for a moment, Orphel’s blue eyes fearless and active. Then Draco smirked and lead the way to his manor, he did, after all, have a promotion to receive.


So much death. So much killing. Was it really 2002? Had it really been five years? Five years? That couldn’t be right. He’d just been playing a good game of exploding snap, waiting for the summer hols, and Harry and Hermione’d been studying in the corner. He’d just finished his last Quidditch game, captaining them to victory and the House Cup for third ird consecutive year, fourth if you counted the year prior to the Tri-Wizard Tournament. He’d just turned seventeen and gotten a shitty job at the ministry.

Five years? Damn, time really does fly. Ginny’d yell at you if she heard you say that, he thought to himself. And his sister an oracle. Who would have thought that? Not me, he thought. True he’d been disbelieving when he’d heard Ginny was an oracle. (And not just any oracle, the most powerful oracle since Apollo it was rumored.) But Dumbledore’d said that she was safe at Delphi, that there were more than just guards keeping Ginny safe. And he’d believed Dumbledore. But now Dumbledore was gone and he didn’t know what to believe.

He knew he believed Hermione. Sweet Hermione, she’d changed so much. Still passionate as ever, she strove for freedom from the Dark Lord. Voldemort, he hissed. But she was different now; the war was changing her, just as it was changing him, just as it had changed Harry.

Harry’d been the first to see it. The dreams, the connection with Voldemort had allowed him to see the attack even before Ginny could. He’d gone off alone, leaving everyone, even Dumbledore, in the dark. But he was alive, Harry that is. Well, Ron thought he was alive. Ginny thought so. Ginny said there was something protecting him, something her sight couldn’t see through. That same shield prevented everyone from finding him by any means. Luna Lovegood had been on his trail for literally five years and she’d just received her fist clue, Hedwig.

With the discovery of Hedwig came hope. Hope that Harry was alive, just running. What Harry was running from and why were mysteries to Ron, but he had faith in his friend. He would never give up on Harry. But the resistance needed him more than ever and he was no where to be found.

But that brief glimpse of hope was just that – brief. Bill was dead. Bill...was dead. His oldest brother, the closest thing he’d had to a role model, dead. Died defending a Japanese family. Died in the name of the resistance. Died in the name of all that was good and right in the world.

Ron frowned. It shouldn’t be like this, he thought. I should be...well I don’t know where I should be, or what I should be doing. I guess it doesn’t matter much now.

“Captain Veezley,” some one said from behind him.

Ron turned around and looked at the person. Fresh blood, he thought as he looked at the new recruit. They take them younger and younger these days. He surveyed the new recruit with mild interest. She was definitely young, very pretty with crystalline blue eyes and flaxen hair that seemed to have natural body as it flowed gracefully down her back. She was slight of frame, but there was something tough about her, something wiry that encouraged his opinion of her.

“Recruit,” he said.

“Gabrielle, sir,” she supplied. “Am I airly (A/N: early)? I vas undair (A/N: under) ze impression zat ve vere to meet at 0900 owairs (A/N: hours), sir.”

“For Merlin’s sake, recruit –”

“Gabrielle,” she repeated.

“Gabrielle then,” Ron said in an exasperated voice. “Call me Ron, or Weasley, or anything. I’m not ‘captain’ and I’m not ‘sir.’ Just Ron.”

“Ron...Veezley?” Gabrielle said, as if reerinering something. “Sir – Ron, do you remembair (A/N: remember) me? I’m Gabrielle Delacour, Fleur’s youngair (A/N: younger) sistair (A/N: you get the point, ‘air’ = ‘er’). You and ‘arry Pottair saved be from that lake during ze Tri-Vizard Tournament.”

Ron did a double take. “Delacour? Her sister? Damn straight I remember you! How are you? How’s Fleur?”

Gabrielle’s face sank slightly. “Zings vere tough in Paris, Ron. Fleur iz...she iz gone. Two years ago I’m afraid.”

“Gabrielle I’m –”

But he didn’t get to finish. Six more young recruits, all older than Gabrielle fortunately, appeared by Port Key. Ron couldn’t be sure, but they roughly resembled some second or third years he’d seen when he was a seventh at Hogwarts. The boys were talking loudly and excitedly with each other. Ron frowned. Eager to go into battle, he thought. They’ll never survive like that.

“Attention!” he shouted loudly. Immediately she boys shut up and turned to him. Clapping his hands twice they seemed to get the message and lined up shoulder to shoulder. Ron frowned. Might as well scare it into them early, he thought.

Ron examined the row of new recruits. Seven, he thought. I remember when they came in groups of twelve, twenty, but six...this is madness. But they appeared a bit more...weary, than the other recruits. The ones in the beginning of the war were green, too green to go into battle. They thought too much of fairness and justice. These ones, however young and few they were knew better. They were the ones that hid with their families during Death Eatetacktacks. They were the ones whose older brothers and sisters had died for the cause. They were the tough ones.

And they did look tougher. Going down the line, he noticed that all the boys were strong and lean, tall for the most part, though none as tall nor as well muscled as he. Spotting a boy that looked almost familiar he stopped.

“Name, recruit,” he barked.

The recruit almost jumped. “W-wood, s-sir. Jeffery W-wood.”

Ron let his face soften. “Oliver your brother, boy?” he asked.

Jeffery nodded. Ron put a calloused hand on the boys shoulder. “Your brother was a good man, Jeffery, a good man. I fought with him at the Battle of Godric’s Hallow; he fought like a madman, just the way he played Quidditch.”

Jeffery clenched his teeth and nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

Ron gave the boy one more pat on the shoulder before he made his way down the line. Ron was happy to see most of them looking defiant. Good, he said to himself. Hate is a powerful ally. All I have to do is push it in the right direction. Making his way to the end of the line he stopped.

“A Longbottom,” he stated, almost in disbelief. It was painfully obvious, the boy looked almost exactly like his relative Neville had before the war. He was leaner though and had a different spark in his eye.

“Yes, sir,” the boy said. “Franklin Longbottom.”

“Neville your cousin?” Ron asked. The boy nodded.

“Tell ‘im that Ron says hello in your next letter to ‘im, boy,” Ron said in a low voice. The boy nodded again, doing a very Neville thing by smiling ever so briefly.

Ron turned around sharply and looked down the line of his recruits. “Men! …And woman. Today, as I’m sure you’ve already heard, is the first day of the rest of your life. Hell, it’s like that every day. But today, you start training with me, Captain Ron Weasley, winner of the Blue Star of Rowena for superb battle tactics, awarded the Shield of Godric for bravery and loyalty in battle, First Class Order of Merlin, blah, blah, blah, blah! If I hear you call me Captain, sir, or anything but Weasley or Ron, I’ll rip you a new one!

“Your rooms will be in the training facility outside Hogwarts (yes I know you just got out of that Merlin forsaken castle). There are twelve other groups of trainees, all of them bigger than you by four or more. I want to be the best trained, smartest, strongest damn regiment out there! Do you understand me (that’s rhetorical, by the way)? General Hermione Granger will be by within the week and I want something that will earn me brownie points. Now, are there any questions?”

There was silence for a minute, before a recruit spoke up. “Is it true you knew Harry Potter? That you and General Granger were all best friends at Hogwarts?”

Ron nodded. “This is true, recruit.”

“Well...do you know where he is?” the boy asked.

“We have no bloody idea,” Ron replied stonily. “Now, are we ready to get to the barracks?”

No one spoke so they headed off to the training facility behind Hogwarts.


“What am I supposed to do with a bunch of bloody children Hermione!?!” Ron yelled, pacing back and for in the headmaster’s – Hermione’s office angrily. “They look like they can barely raise their wands. Eighteen! Eighteen is how old the oldest is, and it’s a Longbottom! Herm, what am I supposed to do with...with this?”

Ron glared at her and she looked calmly over her book at him. Then she raised an eyebrow and put the book down. “Look, Ron, I did this because I had no choice.”

“And besides that, I don’t train troops anymore, Herm, I haven’t for a good two years,” Ron said, putting his ands on the front of her desk, looking her in the eye.

She stared angrily at him and slammed her book on the desk, putting her hand on her edge of the desk and leaning over it. “Look, Ron, you’ve got to give me a minute to explain.” on gon gritted his teeth and sank into a seat across from her. He watched as Hermione rounded the desk and sat in front of him on it. “I’m listening,” Ron said, sinking deeper into the chair.

Hermione sighed. “The way I see it, we can’t hold out much longer, Ron. You know this is true, you see how few of us there are.”

Ron nodded. “I know, Herm. I know.”

“We have nothing to loose, Ron. We’re going to go for a full out attack on Voldemort. As soon as Ginny gets here, she can help us. She’s been trying to find Dumbledore as of late. She thinks he’s lost somewhere in Time.”

“And Harry?”

“She still can’t find him. I sent Seamus and Dean to get her from Greece yesterday, I assume they’re just taking their own sweet time, you know them.”

Ron nodded.

“So,” Hermione continued. “Back to what you were yelling at me about. These are the strongest young witches and wizards in the world right now. You need to train the so they are like us, Ron. You and me, Severus and Lupin, we need help if we’re going to go for a frontal attack on Voldemort.”

“HERMIONE!” someone called from beyond the door. Ron turned around quickly and found Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan breathing raggedly and staggering towards them.

Ron looked from Dean to Seamus and back again. “Where’s Ginny?” he asked calmly.

“Malfoy,” Dean panted. “Came...took Gin from Delphi...”

“Couldn’t do nothing, Gin told us to leave, said you needed us more,” Seamus continued more intelligibly.

“Said...said she’d be fine...said to leave and tell you,” Dean said, getting his breath back.

“Malfoy,” Ron growled. “Malfoy took my sister?”

Dean and Seamus looked ashamed, but nodded.

“Ron,” Hermione began.

Ron walked briskly out of the room. He had a score to settle.

Hermione looked at the two men. Once they were boys, she remembered. “What does Ginny say?”

Dean looked at her, having caught his breath. “An eagle sinks in the south. New winds blow from the West. If they meet, disaster will fill this world and the Wonder of Death’s Maiden will rise again.”

Hermione sat heavily on her chair. “Do you know what this means?” she asked Dean and Seamus.

They shook their heads.

Hermione sighed, “I didn’t think so. Dean, get Seamus to the infirmary and work your magic. Seamus, you have a nosebleed.” She gave each of them a quick nod and fled the room. She needed to talk to some one.