Parallel

1. Auburn

Despite the roaring fireplace, the air was noticeably chilly. The crackling of the flames, usually a sound of comfort and solace, possessed little calming power in the wake of a certain individual's disbelief.

"The Sword of Gryffindor, Ginny? Are you insane?"

"One hundred percent sane."

Eve Laurence gaped at her friend. "Um, clearly not! What do you even want the Sword of Gryffindor for? If you get caught, I bet you Snape would be more than happy to bring back that old punishment of hanging students by their toenails in the dungeons!"

"I'm not going to be the one to take the sword, Eve. You are."

Eve blinked, wondering if her hearing had just short-circuited. "Come again?"

"You're gonna be the one to take the Sword of Gryffindor from the Headmaster's office."

"Wha—no way. God, what are you saying? You pull me from the hallway and drag me in here to tell me this—this ridiculous idea?"

"Eve, you haven't even listened to what we've got to say!"

"You're right, Ginny—I don't know the logic behind whatever this is that you're planning, and I don't want to know." Eve plowed on before her friend could interrupt. "I don't even have to listen to your reasoning to know that somebody's going to get hurt. These little rebellious acts are getting out of hand—this isn't like graffitiing the walls at midnight or talking back to the Carrows in class anymore! You're talking about sneaking a Founder's artifact out of the Headmaster's office! You're smarter than this, Gin. Be reasonable, please—forget about this, and let's go onto living our everyday lives. God knows how long we've got of those."

"Eve." Another voice entered the fray, diverting Eve's incredulity away from Ginny Weasley and directing it onto the new speaker. Neville Longbottom held up his hands placatingly from where he sat cross-legged on the rug by the fireplace, right next to a serene-looking Luna Lovegood. "Just let us explain first, and then think about it."

Eve gave a hollow laugh, which reverberated around the room. "Think about what? Think about the fact that you want to send me on some 'mission' to retrieve the Sword of Gryffindor from Snape's office? I don't know if this is a prank or if the fumes from yesterday's Angel's Trumpet Draughts in Potions have wormed their way in your brain."

Ginny, who was seated opposite of Eve on the rug, grasped her hands and pulled her forward. "This isn't just another useless concoction of a plan to piss off the Carrows, Eve! This is about Harry! This is about the Ministry feeling as though they've got the power to take yet another thing from us! And I know it sounds like I'm just spewing a bunch of shite about 'fighting for what's right' and all that, but look at the lot of us!" Ginny swept her arms out in a horizontal arc, letting go of Eve's hands for a moment before reclasping them hard with determination, as if the intensity of her own words was igniting her strength. "This isn't so much a school as a bloody version of Azkaban! We've got dementors swarming around the castle, trolls patrolling the corridors, and students looking as though they're on the brink of death—and they might as well be—dragging their feet around because the Ministry dictates it all. That sword belongs to Harry, and it's more than just a possession—it's a symbol for resistance! Now Harry's on the run, fighting for his life, while the one thing left to him by Dumbledore is gleaming in the office of that snake, that-that murderer. We're here now, and if we've got a chance amongst all this to take back the sword, why shouldn't we give it a go?"

Ginny's breath was labored by the time she spoke her final word. Her shoulders slumped forward a small margin at the end, as if the passionate outburst had drained her and diminished the fervor she had possessed only seconds before.