The summer following Ginny's third year was a meticulous dance between maintaining the facade of a carefree teenager and orchestrating the subtle currents of fate. At the Burrow, she was the diligent daughter, helping Molly with chores, indulging Ron in endless rounds of Exploding Snap, and laughing at Fred and George's summer experiments. But in the quiet moments, in the privacy of her mind and the occasional secluded spot, she was the calculating strategist, the silent puppet master.
Her focus during these months was two-fold: the continued honing of her already perfected abilities and the relentless application of her Soul Echo. She practiced casting non-verbal, wandless spells with such precision that they were indistinguishable from spoken magic. Her Basilisk Gaze became even more refined, capable of inducing minute changes in another's physiology or emotions with barely a thought. Curse Absorption was tested against old, forgotten Weasley family jinxes, proving its flawless efficacy.
But it was Soul Echo that truly consumed her. She spent hours delving into the probabilistic futures, charting the most likely paths for Voldemort's return, the intricacies of the Triwizard Tournament that lay ahead, and the myriad ways she could influence events. She saw fragmented visions of Cedric Diggory, of a graveyard, of a certain treacherous rat, all weaving into a complex tapestry of probabilities she intended to meticulously unravel and re-stitch to her design. Nagini remained the ultimate prize, and Ginny's foresight confirmed it would only become vulnerable when Voldemort's power had solidified, providing a prime opportunity.
A fleeting, yet significant, encounter occurred during a family trip to Diagon Alley for school supplies. As the Weasleys navigated the bustling thoroughfare, Ginny's Magic Perception flared. She subtly shifted her course, finding herself near Quality Quidditch Supplies, where Daphne and Astoria Greengrass were examining a new broom model.
Daphne's cool, elegant eyes met Ginny's, and a faint, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips. "Weasley," she greeted, her tone warm, devoid of the usual Slytherin formality.
"Greengrass," Ginny replied, her own smile mirroring Daphne's.
Astoria, her eyes brighter, immediately spoke up. "Ginny! Are you excited for the Quidditch World Cup? It's going to be brilliant!" Her enthusiasm was genuine, a contrast to Daphne's more reserved demeanor.
Ginny nodded, her Soul Echo showing her glimpses of the upcoming match, particular plays, and subtle interactions. "I am. Ireland has a strong chance this year, wouldn't you agree, Daphne?" she ventured, subtly testing Daphne's knowledge.
Daphne's eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of challenge in them. "Indeed. Their Chasers are particularly aggressive, but I think the Bulgarians might surprise them with their Keeper's strategy." Their conversation flowed easily, a natural exchange of advanced Quidditch analysis that left the surrounding shoppers bewildered.
As their families eventually drifted apart, Daphne offered a brief, knowing nod. "Until Hogwarts, Weasley." Astoria gave Ginny a small, genuine smile, her green eyes lingering for a moment longer than necessary.
Ginny walked away, a subtle warmth spreading through her. The connection was strengthening, growing beyond mere intellectual curiosity. Her internal logical processing unit began to re-evaluate the parameters of her long-term goals. While power was paramount, and Harry's protection a given, the presence of Daphne and Astoria represented a new, intriguing variable. They were intelligent, capable, and subtly, wonderfully, drawn to her. The thought of them, not just as allies, but as partners, became a more tangible, alluring thread in the grand tapestry of her designs.
Harry's training intensified. Ginny pushed him through advanced dueling sequences, focusing on speed and precise spell-casting. His Parseltongue, now fully integrated, became a tool for influencing lower-level magical creatures, which Ginny saw as a crucial skill for future confrontations. He was becoming a formidable force, his bond with Ginny tightening further, fueled by unwavering trust and loyalty.
As the summer drew to a close, Ginny gazed at the setting sun over the Burrow. The next year, her fourth, would be significant. The Triwizard Tournament loomed, a perfect stage for her most ambitious manipulations yet. Her probabilistic foresight hummed with the echoes of destiny, waiting for her to twist and reshape them. The wizarding world, still unaware of the powerful, calculating witch in their midst, was about to become Ginny Weasley's grand design.
The return to Hogwarts for Ginny's fourth year was heralded by a palpable buzz of excitement that vibrated through every stone of the ancient castle. The cause: the Triwizard Tournament. The arrival of the Beauxbatons contingent, elegant and ethereal, and the formidable Durmstrang students, radiating an almost primal power, transformed the Great Hall into a vibrant tapestry of international magic. Ginny observed it all with a detached fascination, her Soul Echo already sifting through the countless probabilities of how this highly public spectacle would play into her intricate long-term plans. The tournament was a stage, and she intended to use it.
During the Goblet of Fire's selection ceremony, a tense anticipation hung in the air. When Cedric Diggory's name was called, a cheer erupted. Then, with a dramatic flair that seemed almost designed to disrupt Ginny's carefully laid probabilistic paths, the Goblet flared again. And then, it spat out a fourth name: Harry Potter.
Ginny's internal SLPU whirred, processing the unforeseen anomaly. While her Soul Echo had presented various probabilities of Harry's involvement in the tournament, his actual selection as a fourth champion, a clear violation of the rules, was a major deviation. A flicker of annoyance, quickly suppressed, crossed her features. This wasn't merely a minor disruption; it was an active force attempting to derail her carefully constructed timeline. Voldemort, or his followers, were already at work.
Her probabilistic foresight immediately began calculating new optimal pathways, new opportunities that arose from this chaos. Harry's "Fame" would skyrocket, creating more avenues for influence. The tournament's tasks would provide excellent training opportunities, forcing him to push his boundaries.
As the outrage and confusion swept through the Great Hall, Ginny maintained her calm. Her strategy shifted instantly from passive observation to active, albeit subtle, manipulation. Harry would not just survive this; he would thrive.
During a rare moment alone, Ginny found Harry sitting by the Black Lake, looking desolate and overwhelmed. "They're all against me, Ginny," he muttered, skipping stones across the water. "Even Ron thinks I cheated."
Ginny sat beside him, her gaze piercing through the superficial layers of his despair to the raw hurt beneath. "They're fools, Harry," she stated simply, her voice low and steady. "And Ron is a child. Their opinions do not diminish your magic, nor your worth. You are stronger than any of them know." Her Soul Bond with him pulsed with understanding and quiet resolve, a balm to his turmoil.
Over the next few weeks, Ginny intensified Harry's training, focusing on practical applications for the tournament tasks. She taught him advanced defensive spells, specific counter-charms, and refined his Parseltongue for more intricate control over creatures. She also subtly guided his research, ensuring he stumbled upon critical information that would aid him in the challenges, making it seem like his own astute deductions.
Her interactions with Daphne and Astoria became a fascinating counterpoint to the tournament's unfolding drama. They often sought her out in the library or during free periods, drawn by her sharp intellect and unconventional insights. While Ron and Hermione were consumed by Harry's perceived injustice, the Greengrass sisters approached the situation with a more pragmatic, analytical perspective.
"It's a clear violation of the rules, regardless of how his name entered," Daphne observed one afternoon in the library, discussing Harry's situation. "But the political ramifications are intriguing. Dumbledore is clearly caught between the Ministry and the Tournament's magical contract."
"And the sheer audacity of someone managing to bypass the age line and fool the Goblet..." Astoria added, her eyes gleaming with a scientific curiosity rather than moral indignation. "It speaks of truly powerful magic."
Ginny nodded, her Soul Echo providing glimpses of Barty Crouch Jr. and his intricate plans. "Indeed. Such magic is rarely without a purpose." She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "And often, such a purpose is not benign."
Daphne's cool gaze sharpened, meeting Ginny's. Astoria's eyes widened, a flicker of understanding passing between them. Ginny wasn't just observing; she was seeing beyond the surface. In their company, Ginny found a rare intellectual sparring, a shared understanding of the hidden currents that flowed beneath the world's mundane surface. Their presence brought a quiet sense of camaraderie, an unexpected pleasure in her otherwise solitary game.
As the first task loomed – dragons, as Ginny already knew – she continued to prepare Harry. She had foreseen the exact breed, the specific challenges each champion would face. But beyond that, her Soul Echo revealed the deeper machinations at play, the subtle pull of dark magic that enveloped the tournament. Dumbledore, ever watchful, occasionally cast a bewildered glance her way, sensing her unusual composure amidst the chaos. But Ginny remained an enigma, a calm, powerful presence, steadily guiding the unfolding events towards her own meticulously crafted destiny.
The First Task of the Triwizard Tournament loomed, a monstrous shadow cast by four real, live dragons. The champions were visibly nervous, none more so than Harry. But Ginny, observing from the stands with her Soul Echo humming, felt a familiar calm. She had seen the probabilities, manipulated the minor variables, and prepared Harry meticulously. This was not a test of brute strength, but of strategy and the disciplined application of magic—areas where Harry, under her tutelage, now excelled.
The arena was a makeshift rock-strewn enclosure, designed to mimic natural dragon habitats. Cedric, Fleur, and Krum each navigated their respective dragons with varying degrees of success, but none truly shone. Ginny watched, her mind already anticipating Harry's turn. Her Soul Echo had nudged the selection process, ensuring Harry drew the most formidable opponent: the Hungarian Horntail. It was risky, yes, but it offered the greatest opportunity for him to prove his mettle, to solidify his "Fame" in the eyes of the wizarding world.
When Harry's name was announced, a collective gasp rippled through the stands. He entered the arena, looking small against the sheer scale of the Horntail. Ginny's heart, usually a cold, calculating organ, felt a flicker of a different emotion – a fierce, protective certainty. This was her protégé, and he would not fail.
Harry's strategy, honed by Ginny, was simple: retrieve the golden egg. His decision to summon his broom, rather than engage in a direct magical duel, was a stroke of genius she had planted in his mind. As he soared into the sky, dodging gouts of fire and the Horntail's snapping jaws, Ginny's Soul Echo worked overtime. She subtly nudged the wind currents, provided fractional insights into the dragon's blind spots, and even, through a minuscule application of her Mind Magic, subtly influenced the reactions of a few key observers, ensuring they recognized the sheer audacity and skill of his maneuver.
The crowd gasped, then cheered, as Harry performed daring aerial acrobatics, drawing the dragon away from its nest. Ginny watched, a faint, almost imperceptible smile gracing her lips. He wasn't just surviving; he was mastering the challenge. When he finally snatched the egg and returned, the roar of applause was deafening, a chorus of adulation for the Boy-Who-Lived.
Later that evening, after the adrenaline of the task had subsided, Ginny found herself in a quiet corner of the library, ostensibly studying. Daphne and Astoria soon joined her, their expressions a mixture of awe and thoughtful analysis.
"Potter was brilliant today," Astoria said, her voice still tinged with excitement. "No one expected him to use his broom like that. It was... inspired."
"Indeed," Daphne added, her gaze fixed on Ginny. "It was a remarkably astute tactical decision. Very few wizards would have considered that, let alone executed it so flawlessly under such pressure." She leaned back, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You spent a lot of time with him this summer, didn't you, Weasley?"
Ginny met Daphne's gaze, her facade perfect. "Harry has always been a quick learner. And I believe in practical application. Sometimes, the most obvious solution is the one everyone overlooks." She offered a small, knowing smile. "He just needed a bit of guidance to see it."
Astoria looked at Ginny with a look of profound admiration. "You always see things differently, Ginny. The way you knew that enchantment in the library, or the way you handled that Skrewt… you see patterns no one else does."
"It's just observation," Ginny demurred, though her Soul Perception recognized the genuine wonder in Astoria's aura. "And a healthy dose of cynicism about conventional approaches."
Daphne's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile, a hint of genuine amusement in her eyes. "A very unconventional observation, then. Most Gryffindors are too busy charging blindly to see the patterns." Her gaze lingered on Ginny, a silent acknowledgment of their shared intellectual landscape. "It's… refreshing."
Ginny felt a subtle warmth spread through her. The intellectual connection she shared with them was deepening, evolving into something more personal. They saw her, not as the Weasley sister, but as a mind to be respected, a presence to be intrigued by. The thought of them, close and understanding, brought a rare sense of quiet contentment to her carefully constructed world.
Dumbledore, too, had been watching. Ginny occasionally caught his piercing blue eyes on her in the Great Hall, a deeper intensity to his scrutiny. He observed her calm demeanor during the task, her seemingly casual interactions with Harry, and sensed the undercurrent of power she projected. But Ginny's Occlumency remained an impenetrable fortress, revealing nothing but the bright, fierce spirit of a young witch who simply excelled. Let him wonder. She had bigger games to play.
The first task was complete. Nagini remained a key target, and Voldemort's return was inevitable. Ginny's Soul Echo provided glimpses of the second task, of the hidden depths of the Black Lake. The tournament was accelerating her timeline, presenting her with more opportunities to shape the narrative. And with Daphne and Astoria by her side, a quiet understanding growing between them, Ginny felt an unusual sense of completeness. The world was her chessboard, and she was poised to make her next move.
The triumph of the First Task cemented Harry's position as a formidable, albeit controversial, champion. For Ginny, it was a validation of her meticulous training and a strategic success in bolstering Harry's influence. Her Soul Echo, ever vigilant, was now focused on the Second Task: retrieving something from the Black Lake. She had foreseen the challenge, the merpeople, and the need for a gillyweed or a similar magical aid.
Harry, still riding the high of his dragon victory, was less focused on the looming underwater challenge. Ginny, however, knew better. Over the next few weeks, she subtly steered his research, "accidentally" leaving specific books open on relevant pages in the library, or guiding their private training sessions towards underwater spellcasting theory. She nudged him towards conversations that might lead him to seek out Dobby, knowing the house-elf would provide the gillyweed at the last moment, ensuring a dramatic entry for Harry.
Her interactions with Daphne and Astoria continued to deepen, becoming a quiet, comfortable routine amidst the Triwizard chaos. They frequently met in secluded alcoves of the library or by the windows overlooking the Black Lake, discussing everything from obscure magical theory to the complexities of inter-house politics. Ginny found herself sharing insights she wouldn't dare reveal to anyone else – not her family, not even Harry. Her probabilistic foresight often allowed her to offer startlingly accurate deductions about upcoming events or people's true motivations, which captivated the intelligent Slytherin sisters.
One afternoon, as the Second Task drew near, the conversation drifted to the champions' probable struggles.
"The lake is a treacherous environment," Daphne mused, her brow furrowed in thought. "Even if they master a Bubble-Head Charm, the cold, the pressure, the creatures... it's a monumental challenge."
"And what if a simple charm isn't enough?" Astoria pondered, her eyes wide with curiosity. "What if they need something more... natural?" She glanced at Ginny, a question in her gaze.
Ginny smiled, a rare, genuine curve of her lips. "The Black Lake holds many secrets, Astoria. And sometimes, the oldest solutions are the most effective, even if they aren't the most conventional." She met Astoria's gaze, then Daphne's, a silent understanding passing between them. They understood the subtle hint, the implication of knowledge beyond the obvious. It was a shared secret, a comfortable bond forged in unspoken insights.
The day of the Second Task dawned, cold and grey. The stands around the Black Lake were packed, a tense anticipation filling the air. As the champions took their places, Ginny watched Harry. Her Soul Echo showed her the optimal path through the merpeople territory, the exact moment the gillyweed would kick in, the precise timing needed to retrieve his "treasure"—Ron.
When the whistle blew, Harry, having received the gillyweed from Dobby just moments before, plunged into the frigid depths. Ginny's Magic Perception extended, feeling the currents of magic and the pulse of life beneath the surface. She mentally guided Harry, subtly nudging him towards the optimal path through the merpeople village, even as she simultaneously calculated the probabilities of other champions' successes and failures. She ensured Harry took the most dramatic route, saving not just Ron, but also Fleur's little sister, further solidifying his hero status.
When Harry burst from the lake, gasping for air, Ron and Gabrielle in tow, the cheers were thunderous. Ginny felt a wave of satisfaction. Another task accomplished, another step closer to her ultimate goals. Harry was flourishing, his bond with her, now at 16%, growing stronger with each orchestrated success.
As Harry was being wrapped in blankets, Ginny caught Daphne and Astoria's eyes across the chaotic scene. Daphne offered a subtle, acknowledging nod, a look of profound respect in her gaze. Astoria gave a broad, genuine smile, her eyes sparkling with something akin to admiration. Ginny returned their gaze, a comfortable warmth spreading through her. They didn't need explanations; they simply understood, or at least intuited, the deeper layers of her foresight and quiet influence.
Dumbledore, observing from the judges' platform, his blue eyes constantly sweeping the crowd, lingered on Ginny more than once. He seemed to sense the undercurrent of controlled power emanating from her, the quiet influence that seemed to cling to Harry Potter. But Ginny's facade remained impenetrable, her innocent smile unwavering, her gaze outwardly focused on Harry's triumph.
The Second Task was over. Nagini remained. Voldemort's return was drawing closer, a more certain event in her probabilistic visions. Ginny knew the final task, the maze, would be the most dangerous, the most ripe for manipulation. And as she looked at the two Slytherin sisters, a quiet certainty settled within her: these two intelligent, perceptive women would be more than just allies; they were becoming an integral part of her evolving world, a connection she found herself increasingly unwilling to sever. The stage was set for the final act of the Triwizard Tournament, and Ginny was ready to play her hand.
The days leading up to the Third Task were fraught with a palpable tension. The maze, a towering, ominous structure of impenetrable hedges, dominated the Quidditch Pitch. For Ginny, it was the culmination of years of meticulous planning, the final stage before Voldemort's definitive return and her ultimate prize: Nagini. Her Soul Echo hummed with an almost overwhelming surge of probabilities, mapping every potential twist of fate, every interaction in the graveyard that awaited Harry.
Her plan was intricate, a dangerous tightrope walk between protecting Harry and securing her final Horcrux. She needed Voldemort to return, for Nagini to be exposed and vulnerable. But she also needed Harry to survive, to remain her unwitting champion, the public face of hope. She subtly guided Harry's preparation, focusing on advanced evasion tactics, powerful stunning spells, and most crucially, a potent, wandless command in Parseltongue that could briefly disorient and paralyze even a large serpent. She knew his emotional resilience, bolstered by her Mind Magic training, would be his true shield in the face of terror.
Her quiet discussions with Daphne and Astoria became her most vital confidantes. They sensed her heightened focus, the subtle crackle of raw power beneath her calm exterior.
"You're... different, Ginny," Astoria observed one evening, tracing patterns on a dusty library table. "You have this knowing look, like you're watching a play no one else can see." Her green eyes, usually so bright, were filled with a deeper, almost vulnerable curiosity.
Daphne, ever the pragmatist, leaned closer. "There's a certainty to your actions, Weasley, even in the face of what others perceive as chaos. What do you see in this maze that we don't?" Her cool facade cracked just enough to reveal a flicker of concern.
Ginny met their gazes, a rare honesty in her eyes that surpassed even her usual calculated trust. "I see threads, probabilities," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper. "And I see where those threads lead. This tournament... it's a trap, but also an opportunity." She didn't reveal the Horcrux, or Voldemort's return, but her meaning was clear enough. There was something more, something dangerous, hidden within the maze.
Astoria reached across the table, her hand gently covering Ginny's. It was a simple, unexpected touch, but Ginny felt a jolt – a warmth that resonated deep within her usually cold core. "Be careful, Ginny," Astoria whispered, her concern palpable. "Don't let the threads pull you into something you can't control."
Daphne nodded, her gaze firm. "We're here, Weasley. Whatever you need." It was an offer of unwavering loyalty, a quiet pledge that Ginny recognized as truly precious. For a brief moment, the immense weight of her mission felt lighter, shared.
The night of the Third Task arrived, the air thick with anticipation. From her vantage point in the stands, Ginny watched as Harry, Cedric, Fleur, and Krum entered the maze. Her Soul Echo expanded, encompassing the entire labyrinth, tracking Harry's path, foreseeing every obstacle. She subtly nudged the probabilities, ensuring Harry navigated faster, found the critical clues, and that the path to the Cup – the Portkey – was cleared for him just as Cedric reached it.
Then, the cold, familiar tug of the Portkey. The graveyard. Ginny felt Voldemort's burgeoning presence, the culmination of his fragmented soul rejoining his body. She perceived Wormtail, the bone, the blood. And then, the faint, reptilian presence of Nagini, coiled near her master.
This was it.
Ginny didn't hesitate. She knew a direct confrontation was still too risky. Instead, as Harry's wand clashed with Voldemort's, as the specters of the fallen emerged from Voldemort's wand, Ginny unleashed a powerful, targeted surge of her Basilisk Gaze. It wasn't meant to kill, not yet. It was designed to induce a primal, overwhelming terror and temporary paralysis in one specific target: Nagini.
Simultaneously, Ginny unleashed a focused, remote application of her Assimilate ability, honed to perfection. With a searing mental connection, she latched onto the final Horcrux – Nagini's soul fragment. The distance was immense, the magical strain immense, but Ginny's core, overflowing with power, surged. Nagini thrashed, a silent, horrifying struggle in the graveyard, paralyzed by Basilisk Gaze, its soul fragment being ripped away.
Voldemort, too focused on Harry, barely registered his familiar's sudden, convulsive agony. The basilisk's essence raged through Ginny, followed by the cold, ancient dread of Nagini's fragment. The pain was immense, almost overwhelming, but Ginny clung to consciousness, absorbing, assimilating, consuming.
When it was over, Nagini lay inert in the graveyard, its soul fragment annihilated, its body a hollow shell. Voldemort, unaware of the profound loss, continued his duel with Harry. Ginny's magic hummed, throbbing with the final, dark power.
Name: Ginevra Molly Weasley Race: Witch Magic: 16.0 Body: 3.5 Spirit: 16.0 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: 17%), Basilisk Gaze (Passive - Level 5), Soul Echo (1/1), Curse Absorption (1/1) Skills: Cooking Lv.3 (4/4000), Flying Lv.5 (121/16000) Magicks: Enchantment Lv.10 (512000/512000 - MAX), Transfiguration Lv.10 (512000/512000 - MAX), Dark Magic Lv.10 (2048000/2048000 - MAX), Mind Magic Lv.10 (256000/256000 - MAX) Fame: Legendary
Her core stats had surged again, pushing Magic and Spirit to an unheard-of 16.0. Basilisk Gaze had reached Level 5, its passive effect alone now subtly influencing all around her. And her 'Fame' had become 'Legendary', a silent recognition by the magical world's currents of the unprecedented power she now commanded. Every Horcrux was gone, absorbed into her very being.
Ginny watched as Harry, guided by her subtle influence, seized the Portkey again, taking Cedric's body with him. He had survived. Voldemort was back, but crippled, unaware of his final, deepest wound.
As the commotion erupted in the maze, Ginny felt a wave of triumphant exhaustion. She had done it. Every single one of Voldemort's anchors, assimilated. The path was clear. The wizarding world, reeling from the return of its darkest nightmare, remained utterly oblivious to the true power that now resided within a quiet, unassuming Gryffindor girl. And as the crowds cheered for Harry, Ginny's gaze drifted, for a moment, to where Daphne and Astoria sat, their faces pale with shock. They might not understand the full scope, but they would. In time.