"Hey guys," Harry cheerfully greeted Luna and the others. "How the Hippogriff did you manage to escape?"

Hermione was standing beside him, both looking like they had just tried to race the Hogwarts Express—and won. Harry was sporting a huge smile, looking great despite his robes being littered with cuts.

"Oi, mate! We gave them a taste of the DA, didn't we Neville?" Ron said, smugly.

"It was awesome!" Neville was grinning widely. "First Ginny managed to kick Malfoy, and Ron punched Crabbe right in the face."

"Uh, wasn't that Goyle?"

"Could be."

"What happened then?" Harry asked.

"Neville grabbed our wands, and it was just jinxes everywhere," Ginny said. "I nailed a few Bat-Bogeys, that'll teach them not stick their noses where they don't belong! You were terrific Luna, those stunners really hit the mark!"

A quick Obliviate and we're best friends again. The wonders of magic never cease.

"Those weren't stunners, silly. But can you believe that Pansy actually jumped out of the window?" laughed Ron.

"They totally were, you prat. Anyways," continued Ginny. "We went to search for you. What's your story?"

"We were just dealing with Umbridge," Harry shrugged. "Centaurs helped us."

"Professor Umbridge, Harry!" admonished Hermione.

"Not anymore, I bet!" Harry smirked. "She had it coming, as well. Remember when she tried to dose me with Veritaserum?"

This was news to Luna. "What happened? Did you have the antidote on you?" I know I do, but that's a surprising amount of planning for a Gryffindor. Her respect for Harry rose a few notches.

"Eh, just poured it on some flower. Anyways, Sirius is still in the Ministry,—" Sure he is. "—we have to bail him out. Any ideas on how we get there?"

Luna walked a few feet to the nearest tree and pretended to study it with interest. I know I usually trust Harry, but this doesn't make any sense. It would only be a waste of time. The others did not look very hopeful. Ron was currently scratching his head, while Hermione was busy staring a hole in the ground. Now comes the part where I suggest some crazy idea. Then they dismiss it, can't think of anything else, and I'll be in the restricted section by five.

However, I have to be careful, it must be so insane that there's no chance they'd go for it. She circled the tree, noticing some beast's bite mark in the bark. An idea formed in her head. It's perfect.

"Neptune is rising tonight," she called out in her dreamy voice. Well, her normal voice.

Hermione threw her a look. "So what?"

"It's obvious, isn't it?"

"No! What do you mean?"

"Death Eaters, Hermione. Death."

"You don't make any sense!"

Seeing Hermione on the verge of a breakdown, Luna decided to have mercy on her.

"We could ride the Thestrals." She smiled to herself. Mounting a horde of flesh-eating monsters of death and flying across the country to London? A bit out there, but at least there is no way they're going to take it seriously.

Harry snapped around, giving her a thankful look. "Thestrals! Of course, why didn't I think of that? You're awesome, Luna!"

Her smile was starting to feel strained. Don't you dare.

"You know, that could actually work," mumbled Hermione, contemplating.

Nooo!

Dumbledore was standing at his window, taking in the beautiful Scottish landscape. The towers of Hogwarts stood majestically over their surroundings. The Forbidden Forest looked entirely peaceful, belying the hordes of creatures that would love to eat his students for dinner. Speaking of those, a small person was just now running away from it. Should have listened to their welcome speech, he admonished mentally. Still, no harm was done. On the other side, he could see the lake, where a group of first-years were currently playing with the Giant Squid. Maybe calling it 'playing' is stretching the term a bit.

Suddenly, his quiet contemplation was interrupted by the sounds of distant screams, as a student fell down one of Hogwarts' many towers. That was not surprising in itself—students falling down a couple of stories was alarmingly commonplace, especially since the introduction of the moving staircases—but dropping out of a window was a bit more unusual. Had they been thrown out deliberately?

"Maybe someone took the phrase 'I trust you about as far as I can throw you' to the test?" he chuckled.

Dumbledore walked back to his desk, ignoring both Black's groan and Fawkes' pitying look. Still, I see no reason to become involved. Broken bones are just a minor nuisance, and surely someone will take them to the hospital wing in time. He took another one of his lemon drops, studying it for a few seconds until popping it slowly in his mouth, savouring every moment of fizzling sourly goodness. Actually, Fawkes would be perfectly capable—and I would not have to lift my wand an inch.

He tried to look suitably concerned. "Fawkes?"

His phoenix inclined his head.

"There is a student grievously injured. I need you to take them to Madam Pomfrey right now," Dumbledore said, alarmed. "They could die at any moment!"

Fawkes looked at him incredulously and then turned pointedly to his glass full of sherbet lemons, one of which he was currently noisily sucking on.

"Oh fine, be like that," grumbled Dumbledore.

"I am clueless how you get anything done, Headmaster," commented Black. "Grindlewald must have stolen your sweets to get you to take out the big spells, did he not?"

Dumbledore put an arm protectively around his glass, then quickly withdrew it once he realised what he was doing. "I confronted him as soon as he made his intentions clear. Then we traded spells for hours, until I finally managed to overpower him with my magic." He paused and then added, defensively, "That is how it happened."

"Why is your phoenix laughing?" asked Black, furrowing his eyebrows.

"He took a while to understand my joke from earlier?" tried Dumbledore.

"If I have learned one thing hanging on this wall, your phoenix does not laugh at your jokes."

"Yes, he quite lacks a sense of humour."

"Or has standards. And you are avoiding my point."

Dumbledore sighed. "Can you keep a secret?"

"I am a portrait glued to the wall in your office, if that fact has escaped your notice."

"Phineas."

"Fine, I promise to keep your oh-so-important secret."

Dumbledore took a deep breath and began his story.

"Most people see me as an old, intelligent, immensely powerful wizard. They think I wield ancient magicks of unspeakable might."

Dumbledore smiled sadly.

"Alas, the reality is that I am not. A powerful wizard, I mean—I am not lacking in the intelligence department," he added modestly. "But in terms of spells, I am limited to some low-powered charms."

"If that were so," Black said, raising a single eyebrow. "then how did you manage to defeat Grindelwald? Or discover the twelve uses for dragon blood? Or confront Voldemort countless times?"

"Oh, research I can do just fine. Nicholas did all the heavy lifting on that, I just developed the formulae. For the other things—as much as it pains me to admit it—it was all Fawkes."

"What?!"

"Do you know that phoenixes can teleport themselves and others instantly, ignoring most wards? That their tears are the most potent healing potion in existence? That they—no need to look so smug, Fawkes—can throw gigantic fireballs? That their song physically hurts any dark wizard? Also, they are practically invulnerable."

"But still, you could hardly—"

"Think, Phineas!" interrupted Dumbledore. "You were here when Harry told us how he defeated the Basilisk. Who helped him down in Slytherin's chamber? Not me, certainly.

"Last year, when Harry was watching Tom's rebirth, did I have Fawkes take me and duelled him while he was at his weakest? No! I sent Fawkes in there alone, knowing I would only slow him down.

"Even last month, when Cornelius tried to arrest me in this very office. Did I fight his aurors? Most assuredly not! After all, they are professionals. I had Fawkes take me out of here right away, and came back later that night to close the door. With a key, mind you, not magic."

Dumbledore slumped down, having finally revealed his life's greatest lie.

Black was stunned. "How—" ... "Why—" ... "Is this actually true?"

"Yes, Phineas, it is," Dumbledore said gravely.

Black stared at him for a long moment. Then he started cracking up. "Haha, you actually got me for a second! Nice one!"

"No—," began Dumbledore.

"And the setup, as well!" Black was now gasping for air. "How can you stay serious for so long?"

"I was serious!"

"Yes, sure, and Flamel hides his stone in Myrtle's bathroom because Gringotts is not safe enough!" chuckled Black.

"Actually—"

"I must tell this to my great-grandson, it will cheer Sirius right up! See you!"

"Wait! You promised—," Dumbledore protested weakly, but he could only look on helplessly as Black walked out of the portrait to Grimauld Drive, spilling his secret for the world to hear.

Maybe I could replace Ehwaz with Mannaz? They sound similar enough, Voldemort thought, once again working on his spell. If Ehwaz is the wiggle at the end, I have to instead do an upwards flick, a diagonal cross and a downwards flick to get Mannaz. Or is that a circle? He shook his head. No sense fretting over that. Raising his wand, he intoned, "Impetus glaci."

Nothing happened. Voldemort eyed the empty room before him suspiciously, not keen on repeating his earlier performance. He looked down, scowling. There is no mysterious, exploding sphere attached to my wand. So far, so good.

It was eerily quiet. Nothing seemed to be out of order, but that did little to calm his suspicions. That magic has to have gone somewhere!

Suddenly someone tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, what is going—"

Voldemort let out a high-pitched shriek, but then his combat reflexes kicked in. Spinning around, he fired off a blasting curse and a blood-freezing charm in one swift motion. These were probably overkill, but he cared little for such things. More is, after all, always more.

However, instead of the exceptionally stupid recruit or over-eager house-elf he was expecting, his spells flew towards an ice-golem, who was looking at him curiously.

Both spells hit before either of them had time to react, one landing on its shoulder, the other clipping its leg. However, they were not proving effective and only created a few sparks.

"Do not attack me, you fool!" exclaimed the golem. "I am you after all."

Voldemort raised an almost invisible, silvery shield. "You sure don't look the part! Explain yourself!"

"I remember trying to improve the 'Impetus glaci' spell, right before this. I swapped the rune, and after casting it I suddenly found myself in this body."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes. Or at least he would, had his rebirthing ritual left him with narrowable eyeslits. "If you are really what you pretend to be, tell me how many points Slytherin had in my first year."

"This is ridiculous! That was more than fifty years ago, I cannot even remember how many animals I sacrificed that year!"

"Neither can I," admitted Voldemort. "So, you are really me. Or at least, you were."

"I still am."

"Semantics. How did this happen?"

The golem frowned. "I do not remember the precise meaning of Ehwaz, but it's being used for Inferii, correct?"

"Yes. Probably. That explains the golem part. But Inferii are hardly great conversationalists, by any stretch."

"So where is the intelligence coming from?"

A few moments passed, until they both looked at each other, having come to the same conclusion.

"The—"

"—Horcruxes."

"Why?!" raged Voldemort. (The real one.) He slashed his wand angrily, exploding a display of expensive looking vases. "My soul is more fragile than a summoning circle made out of twigs! I didn't even kill anyone this time!"

"Well, there was this recruit...," pointed the golem out.

"Oh, you are right, there was," Voldemort said, his rage abating somewhat. "Still, it was an accident."

"You pushed your wand, which was about to explode, into his hands and told him to run."

"Details," dismissed Voldemort, waving his hand. "In any case, having an additional Horcrux is a good thing. More is always more."

"True. But what are we going to do about me?"

"Let us see." Voldemort walked over to his golem, casting a number of diagnostic spells. "You appear to be immune to cold and heat. No digestive tract, so probably no need to eat. There is a magic core, but it is not compatible with wands."

He circled around, while the golem eyed him suspiciously.

"Confringo. Diffindo. Inanis. Highly resistant to physical magic. Adflictus.—"

"Ouch!"

"—Susceptible to pain-based curses. Obliviate. Imperio. Immune against mind-affecting spells."

"Are you quite done?!" growled the golem.

"I am."

It took a deep breath. "So what are we going to do? I have to improve my wandless magic first, of course, but I can do some of the research afterwards. I am definitely joining you in your next fight against the old fool, the prophecy is too important to lose."

"Ludicrous. You are one of my Horcruxes—and I will hide you until I have a need of you."

"We were the same person just five minutes ago!"

"So? We did the same to the diary. Do you think it appreciates being imprisoned in a book?"

"I am starting to regret that decision."

"Good for you."

"At least put me in some kind of library, where I can work on new spells!"

"I was thinking north pole, to be frank."

"What?! Are you—"

"No one will search for you there, and you will blend in perfectly."

"Don't you—"

"Portus," cast Voldemort, sending his golem away. One problem dealt with.

His eyes fell on a clock, which has miraculously withstood his earlier 'experiments'. What time did Lucius say in that letter?

Voldemort tapped his wand against the wall, annoyed. Why, for the love of Merlin, are we burning those? It was half past, but what hour?

Six maybe? Or seven? Well, seven is my favourite number. Yes, it was definitely half past seven. I will make sure to be at the ministry by then, Lucius would fail miserably on his own.

Luna was mentally recounting all her spells capable of letting her survive a drop of a few hundred yards. It was a short list. I'll definitely look this up if I'm ever in the library again, she promised to herself. Considering the number of people I've thrown out of windows, I really should've done that already.

Her Thestral, which she lovingly referred to as 'Certain Death', was not yet showing a desire to eat her alive, nor did he try to shake her off. Still, Luna was not a trusting person. He's just biding his time. Maybe he's trying to figure out whether we'd taste better after being scared to death from the fall, or if he should just take a bite right now.

Trying to distract herself from Certain Death below, she looked at the others. Neville was sitting in front of her. He was trying to stay collected, but the nervous looks he was sending downwards every now and then betrayed him. Ron and Ginny were on the Thestral to her right, casually bickering about something. They play Quidditch after all. The thought of dying horribly in a crash is doubtlessly exciting to them.

Their casual disregard of the mortal peril they were in was even more stunning, considering that neither of them could even see the Thestral under them.

Leading the party were Harry and Hermione. The latter looked ready to puke but managed to keep it together. Of course, Harry was taking to this like a dryad to the forest, flying confidently ahead. Were it not for Hermione, he would likely be doing barrel rolls right now. Gryffindors.

Luna narrowed her eyes. They were having a whispered conversation, banking on the wind to wash out any sounds. Not on my watch. Luna was curious. Careful to not alert Neville, she whispered, "Sonum Profero".

"—you sure about that, Harry?" Luna could hear Hermione as if she was right next to her.

"Yeah. I can feel him," responded Harry. Which is totally not creepy, whoever that is. Probably the Thestral.

"What is he thinking?" Which one of us tastes the best, if I had to guess.

"First he was suspicious—" You would be too if your potatoes asked you to carry them to the kitchen. "Like, he was just annoyed, but then he got really furious, you know?" We're so not going to survive this.

"I don't know, Harry, it doesn't really make sense." You don't say?!

"And then the fury just went 'poof', and he felt really smug about something." Wait, what are you talking about?

"Maybe Sirius managed to escape? When Voldemort realised it, he was raging—but could be that he then recaptured Sirius?"

"Mhm. I don't like it, Hermione. We have to get him out of there, before Voldemort kills him."

Oh, they were talking about Voldemort. Now it makes sense. Different puzzle pieces flew around in her head, searching for connections. So that's why Harry was so sure Sirius was at the Ministry, he can read Voldemort's mind. Luna nodded to herself. It's still completely implausible, mind you, but they're Gryffindors after all. We might be doing something interesting.

As they did not seem to continue their conversation, Luna cancelled the spell. Ron and Ginny were still quibbling on their Thestral, so she focused once again on her Certain Death, not wanting to be caught unawares.

Dumbledore was quite upset about his earlier episode. So much so, in fact, that he almost forgot his upcoming meeting with Snape and Harry for the remedial potion lessons. Sighting, he looked at the clock disappointedly. Although it might be better this way. I would not want to intrude upon Severus and Harry, they could very well use this opportunity to get to know each other. He popped another lemon drop. Yes, I will give them an hour still.

Suddenly his fireplace roared to life. "Albus, quick!" came the agitated voice of Madam Pomfrey. "We have a situation over here!"

"Fawkes! Now, if you please." For once, his familiar did not argue. Vanishing in a flash of flame, they reappeared inside the Hospital Wing.

"Poppy," Dumbledore greeted warmly. "Pleasure to meet you, as always."

Pomfrey was currently tending to none other than Dolores Umbridge. She looks like she was run over by a horde of Centaurs.

He got an admonishing look, although Poppy did not seem very angry. "Well, she was."

I said that out loud, didn't I?

"Yes, you did. They dropped her off at the edge of the forest, presumably after scaring her within an inch of her life." She cast a few diagnostic charms. "Our esteemed Professor Umbridge has yet to say a single intelligible sentence. She's in shock, most likely."

"I see. And there is nothing you can do, Poppy?"

The healer pursed her lips. "Well, theoretically I do know a few spells, but I'm afraid I simply lack the expertise. The healers at St. Mungos are much more qualified."

How curious, Poppy never had problems dealing with traumata before. It does happen regularly around here, after all. But she must know best what can and cannot be done, I suppose.

Dumbledore looked around. The infirmary was blindingly white as always. More unusually, it was almost empty, with only one other bed being occupied.

"If you are searching for Mr Potter, Albus, you won't find him here. At least not right now, the boy attracts more trouble than a galleon does nifflers," Poppy said, clearly disapproving. "If I'd had to guess, he's probably riding a herd of Hippogriffs, well above any safe altitude."

Dumbledore chuckled, "Don't be so hard on young Harry, Poppy. I know for a fact that, at this moment, he is doing remedial potion lessons with Severus."

"Then there's nothing for me to worry about, Albus. No concerns at all. I'm sure Mr Potter will be perfectly safe in the company of our esteemed potions professor."

"I'm glad we agree," Dumbledore smiled, turning to the other occupied bed, which was standing on the far side of the room. A Slytherin girl was currently lying in there. Her ribs had recently been bandaged, and Albus noted several vials of pain-relief and dreamless sleep potions standing beside the bed. "Who is that unfortunate student over there?"

"That's Ms Parkinson, a fifth-year Slytherin. She is here because she—Merlin knows why—jumped out of a window. Broke almost all of her ribs, of course."

"Yes, I thought I heard screaming some time ago. I do not believe this will be any trouble to you?"

"She'll be up in no time," replied Pomfrey automatically, before his earlier sentence registered. "I'm sorry, what?! You heard a student cry out in pain and didn't think it necessary to leave your office? Are you out of your mind, Albus?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "Now, now, Poppy, you know better than anyone that crying students are par for the course. It is when they fall silent that you need to start worrying."

"Albus, this castle is one big safety hazard! Children get injured on a daily basis and it doesn't trouble you in the slightest! The students here have a choice to fall to their death using a staircase, die from a concussion during this so-called sport, Quidditch, or maybe even drown in the lake!"

"The Giant Squid usually fishes them out, you know that," defended Dumbledore. "And the staff is always trying to protect them."

"Oh, really?" asked Pomfrey.

"Of course! Can you name even one teacher that has put students at risk?"

"Quirrell."

"Well, DADA does not count."

"Hagrid then."

Dumbledore paused. "... He was let go by Dolores, was he not?"

"Argh!" exclaimed Pomfrey frustratedly. "At this rate, the students will be fighting Voldemort in the courtyard by next year! And the teachers will stand by, watching."

"Please, do not be ridiculous. Now, I would like to have a few words with young Ms Parkinson, if that would be alright?"

"By all means, go ahead. Just try to keep her away from open windows, just in case she gets any ideas."

"Hey!" a girl's voice sounded. "I'm right here, you know? And I can hear you two just fine." Pansy did not seem amused.

Dumbledore walked over to her, once again all friendly headmaster. "Oh, you must not think bad of Poppy, she is only concerned about your safety." His eyes twinkled. "Even if that concern gets out of hand, sometimes."

Pomfrey shot him a dark look. "I'm not—"

"Moving on," he spoke over her. "What is the last thing you remember?"

"You and Pomfrey painting me as a depressed idiot trying to kill herself?" Pansy sulked.

"No, before that," Dumbledore said. Pomfrey was staring at him incredulously. "... What I meant to say is, I do not at all think you are depressed," he corrected hastily. "I take the well-being of my students very seriously."

"Yeah, sure. Anyways, I was in Professor Umbridge's office, together with some other Slytherins. We, uh, wanted to talk to her about our homework."

"Homework?"

"Yeah."

"How curious." She is hiding something. No student would voluntarily discuss homework. No non-Ravenclaw student at least.

"And then I fell out of the window," she continued quickly. "That's it."

"If I may be so bold as to ask, how exactly did you manage that?"

"Err—" Pansy paused. "I, kind of, slipped."

"Out of a window?" He did not quite manage to keep the incredulity out of his voice.

"Yes!" Pansy nodded quickly. "You know, I'm very clumsy. See?" She then proceeded to roll out of the bed, landing on the floor with a thump.

Dumbledore raised a single eyebrow. "Certainly." She is a Slytherin, hence this must be one of Tom's nefarious schemes. But he would not entrust her with an important mission, so who was responsible? Lost in thought, he was groping after one of his lemon drops. At least before he noticed that he was no longer in his office—his hand was just awkwardly fumbling in the air. "Was young Mr Malfoy with you at the time?"

Pansy's eyes widened. "Maybe?" she offered, while climbing back into her bed. "No. I mean, yes. Yes! But he wasn't making me trip, or anything!"

"Thank you, Ms Parkinson, this has been quite enlightening," Dumbledore smiled, eyes twinkling again. "Rest assured that I will conduct a full investigation. Slippery windows will not be tolerated in this school."

As he passed Pomfrey on his way out, he whispered to her, "That poor girl must be in shock, quite possibly with short-term amnesia. Run a few checks on her, would you?"

Pomfrey nodded curtly in acknowledgement. As he left the room, Dumbledore was planning how to best investigate this matter. My students are at risk, this must be resolved as quickly as possible. He nodded to himself. I am going to drop by Dolores' office at once, hopefully I will be able to find some clues.

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