The Gathering: The New Order of Merlin Book 1

38. Message on the wall

       Cold, wet floor and silence.

Ginny opened her eyes. Her cheek was stuck to the floor tile. She breathed through her mouth and watched the ripples of the air current in a puddle of water, her mind too muddled to form a coherent thought. Her body felt like it wasn't completely there. Did she even have one? If she was still asleep, it was a strange dream. A shiver ran through her. She had to have a body if she felt cold.

She laid there for a while longer, trying to feel something other than cold. She moved a finger. It worked. She felt it. She moved more fingers. Progress. She tried to get up but couldn't. Her muscles felt like jelly. Weak. She felt so weak.

She took a moment to look around. It was the wretched abandoned bathroom again, but thankfully, Moaning Myrtle wasn't there yet. Ginny was alone. Alone with the silence and the cold floor.

She hated this bathroom. She had ended up here so many times already. Why was her sleepwalking always bringing her here? The onslaught of anger restored an ounce of her strength and she tried to get up. Her arms shook under her weight. Now, one leg, the other, and she was upright, but her vision swam, and she waited for it to stabilize.

Ginny made her way out and shuffled down the dark hallway, using the wall to compensate for her poor balance. The walk to the Gryffindor Tower was taking forever. She stared at her feet as she shuffled forward. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot.

"Just keep going and you'll get there. Keep going," she told herself.

She looked ahead to see if she was any closer and found that she wasn't even halfway down the hallway. Then, her eyes landed on the wall. Her brain wasn't working enough to read it, but she was drawn to the scribbles. She traced one letter with her finger. The dim light of the torch illuminated her hand, which was dirty with something dark red, the same shade as the writing.

Ginny stumbled away from the wall, now finally awake enough to read the message written in red. It had to be a coincidence. People didn't just write things while sleepwalking. She couldn't have been the one who vandalized the school. It couldn't have been her. Ginny rubbed her dirty hands on her damp robes and got back to the task of walking. Just a little more and she'd be at the tower. Just a few more steps and she would get into her warm dry bed. Just a little longer.

She made it to the stairs and looked up. There were so many stairs. Muggles had invented a handy thing called an elevator. Why couldn't wizards do something similar? She started to climb and made it up only on sheer willpower, not body strength.

"Password," the portrait of Fat Lady said.

Ginny swayed on her feet and blinked slowly. Password, right.

"It's one word," she mumbled.

Fat Lady rolled her eyes. "Yes, it's one word. Tell me the word so I can let you in."

What was she doing here anyway?

"Bed," Ginny mumbled.

"Oh, dear. That's not the password. Think about it. I know that you know it."

Not bed? But she needed a bed—her soft warm bed with the cozy blanket her mum had knitted.

"Wake up!" Fat Lady shrieked.

Ginny opened her eyes. She didn't notice when she closed them. Fat Lady looked at her kindly while Ginny tried to remember what she was doing there. Oh, she needed to get in to get to her bed.

"Password, dear."

Ginny racked her brains for the word. She was sure she'd said it earlier today. Was it today? She wasn't sure what day today was. Maybe it was all a dream.

"Wattlebird," she exclaimed.

Fat Lady let out a breath of relief, said, "Get to bed, dear. It's late," and the painting swung open.