A/N: Chapter 9!

So the word "whoever" comes up a lot this chapter, and I'm pretty sure I'm using it correctly, but I might just be a dummy and using it instead of "whomever" so I hope that doesn't drive you nuts.

Enjoy!


"With me, you two," McGonagall said quickly, pointing to Harry and Ginny. She passed them as she walked out of her office and began the descent down the staircase.

Harry and Ginny wasted no time following her, and they met Ron on the way down.

"Professor, what—?" Ron spluttered.

"You as well, Ronald, follow me," she said curtly. Harry noticed her wand was drawn.

They marched the handful of corridors that would take them to Hermione's Arithmancy class. They were largely unseen as most students were in class, but a few did spot them, and Harry figured it was a rather odd sight, the Headmistress with her wand out while three students followed her single file down one hallway after another.

They arrived at long last outside Professor Vector's classroom, and Harry realized his heart was pounding and his palms were sweaty. McGonagall seemed to realize her wand was out and pocketed it, rapping quickly on the door. She entered before a response was given.

Harry, Ron, and Ginny decided to wait outside while they heard Professor McGonagall request to withdraw Hermione from the lesson.

A moment later, Hermione and Professor McGonagall emerged, Hermione looking hugely relieved when she saw the three of them. "Oh thank goodness! I thought something might have happened when Professor McGonagall came in."

"Nothing yet," McGonagall said while Ron swallowed Hermione in a fierce hug. "Harry brought up a rather good point about the danger you were in if this imposter knew about even the lesser affairs of you three."

When Ron finally released her, Hermione looked rather guilty. "I should have thought of that, Professor. I'm sorry to make you worry."

"Not at all," McGonagall said with a very slight smile. "You're safe, and that's far more important."

"So what happens now?" Ginny asked.

"I would very much like to hear what Albus thinks of this little episode," Professor McGonagall said. So the five of them marched back up to McGonagall's office, where they waited for Dumbledore's portrait to appear.

The office was quiet while they waited. There weren't enough chairs for all of them, so Harry took to standing, looking once more around the room. His eyes fell again on the large glass tube with the floating sand and the ruby.

"What is this, Professor?" Harry asked, leaning in close to examine the granules of sand. With it right in front of his face, Harry could see that the sand was indeed moving, but it was so slowly that it might as well not have been. It reminded Harry of Slughorn's hourglass that measured how interesting a conversation was.

"It is an hourglass," McGonagall said.

"How do you read it?" Ron asked.

"It does not measure hours, Mr. Weasley, but progress. When all of the sand has gathered around the ruby, whatever task you are working on will have been completed."

"Not a good sign then, is it?" Ron asked. "It'll be a while before we know who wrote that letter, then."

"It is for far less demanding projects than mystery solving, I'm afraid," Professor McGonagall said resignedly. "Paperwork, errands to run, letters to send—to-do lists, mostly."

"Shame. Oh well, it's not like we haven't got any practice in unraveling dark plots, have we?"

"My thoughts precisely," said Dumbledore. They all jumped, and turned to see him in his portrait, taking to his chair in the picture frame. "So let's get to it, shall we? Harry, I daresay you know how this goes? As much as you must be tired of it, I must ask you again to recount the events leading up to this point."

"Right," Harry said. For the third time that day, he recounted the story of the letter, of Winky and the Room of Requirement. Unlike the others, however, and much to Harry's appreciation, Dumbledore, as he always had done, waited for Harry to finish before asking questions. Harry thought it was one of the things he liked most about Dumbledore.

"A rather interesting tale indeed," Dumbledore mused, stroking his beard in thought. "Using Winky as a lure was quite the gamble, and lucky for us it has not paid off for them."

"What do you mean a gamble?" Harry asked.

"Well, as you no doubt have realized, this person, whoever they are, knows a great deal about you, Harry. That makes them a threat we should not take lightly, but I think they are at a great disadvantage now that we know this. As proved, I would guess, by the four of you all standing here and unharmed."

"Then where do we go from here?" Ginny asked. "It's not like we've got any leads, do we?"

Dumbledore thought this over for a moment. "None that make themselves obvious, no. It is troubling that someone we count a friend would take such actions."

"What do you mean by that, Albus?" Professor McGonagall asked, looking taken aback.

"Minerva, I would be absolutely stunned if this letter forger was malevolent in nature," Dumbledore said. "Even in light of Voldemort's attack, I have always believed Hogwarts to be very good at keeping out those who would do its students harm. I think anything short of another open assault would not be enough to grant entry."

"But…." It was Hermione who spoke, and she did so very quietly. As if she was nervous about contradicting Dumbledore. "What about the centaurs?"

"The centaurs?" Dumbledore asked, surprised. "Surely you don't think a centaur behind all of this, Hermione?"

"No sir," Hermione said quickly, her cheeks slightly pink. "But we heard one telling Hagrid that they think Hogwarts is less defended than it had been."

"Do they now?" Dumbledore asked, his eyebrows rising. Clearly this was the first he'd heard about their concern, as McGonagall spoke next.

"They've been saying it all summer," McGonagall said dismissively. "I took them quite seriously at first, Albus—I went over every protection we had invoked after Voldemort's attack. I triple-checked every barrier when they continued to voice this concern. But nothing is amiss, Albus, I assure you. You know how centaurs are… how much stock they put into their… astrology."

"I do know, Minerva," Dumbledore replied calmly. "I am also predisposed against the study of Divination, as you are, I believe. But the centaurs have the privilege of being rather quiet, unlike us."

"Meaning what, exactly?" McGonagall said, almost irritably.

"Meaning those of few words ought to be heard when the speak up. I would rather like to speak with Firenze. Might we continue this discussion in his classroom, Minerva?"

McGonagall had a stony look on her face. "If you think it best, Albus."

"I do. We can reconvene after the day's lessons end—but first, Harry, would you please call Kreacher for us? I would like him to keep an eye on the four of you. Perhaps he will be able to see this dilemma from an angle we cannot."

"I can't come to the meeting with you?" Harry asked. "This whole thing is about me."

Dumbledore smiled at him. "Of course you are welcome, Harry. But I don't think we are going to make very much progress, and I can only imagine how very bored you will find yourself before long."

"I don't care," Harry said firmly. "I want to figure out this mess so things can go back to normal."

"As you wish. But Kreacher first, if you please, Harry."

Harry nodded and called, "Kreacher!" and the house-elf appeared with a loud crack.

"You called, Master Harry?" Kreacher asked, bowing before Harry. "How may I be of assistance?"

"Kreacher," Dumbledore spoke from his painting. The elf turned to look at him. "Someone wrote Harry a very deceitful letter, and delivered it inside this castle. They forged it to appear his friend in an attempt to get Harry alone. We do not know the identity of this imposter, but it is very likely they will try to contact Harry again. I would like you to follow Harry, as well as Ronald, Hermione, and Ginevra, here, to see if you can find out who this person is."

Kreacher bowed at once, and said very urgently, "Of course, sir! Kreacher will do all he can to keep Master Harry and his friends out of harm's way."

"Excellent," Dumbledore said, beaming. "You may enlist a few more house-elves if you would like, but make sure to keep your distance. We don't want the person too scared to act again, otherwise we might never discover them. Do you think you could do that, Kreacher?"

"Oh yes," Kreacher said, bowing deeply with pride. "Kreacher has had ample practice following in shadow, sir."

"But of course," Dumbledore smiled, and Harry got the feeling he had known about Kreacher following Malfoy two years before. "Now, I am off to speak with Firenze personally. Minerva, if you would be so kind as to bring the heads of houses when you come down—and Hagrid, I think too, will want to hear of this. The four of you are welcome of course, but I warn you us teachers tend to drone when we gather."


Dumbledore hadn't lied. That evening after dinner, after McGonagall, Sprout, Slughorn, both Dumbledores, and Hagrid had gathered in Firenze's grassy office, Harry was tired of all the talking.

It had only taken the professors five minutes to get up to speed on the situation, and another ten to suggest their theories. For the last forty-five minutes they had been talking in circles.

Firenze was not of the same opinion of the other centaurs, and thought the school was no differently defended than before. When asked why he might differ from the other centaurs, Firenze had no answer.

It turned out Hagrid had asked the herd in the Forbidden Forest what they meant specifically with their cryptic warnings, but they had never given him a satisfactory answer. "They only say the school could be better defended, then leave. Won't name spells or enchantments or anythin'," Hagrid had said.

It had therefore become a mystery as to what the school could be lacking as well as whoever was after Harry. After another hour of getting nowhere, the meeting finished.

"As we are still in the dark about this," Dumbledore's portrait said, "I would like the four of you to avoid any… misadventures you might be tempted to go on."

"And what about the other students?" asked Professor Sprout. "Are we to consider them safe?"

"I think so, yes," Dumbledore said. Then he chuckled, "At least, as out of danger as one can be at Hogwarts."

This didn't seem to reassure the other professors, but they had all exhausted their worries in their discussion, and there wasn't much else that could be said.

"One last thing," Dumbledore said, as Harry started walking out. "I would like the four of you not to seek entry to the Room of Requirement until we have this sorted out."

"But they've already tried it and didn't find anything!" Harry said, pointing to Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.

"Indeed, you have told me this several times," Dumbledore said, in a not-to-be-argued-with tone. "However there has been ample opportunity for the person to retreat back to the room without our notice. I want you four to stay away from that room. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes," the four of them said together.

"Very well. I leave them to you, Minerva."


Night had long since fallen when Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny left Firenze's office. They walked up to the Gryffindor common room in relative silence, sick of talking about the letter. When they clambered through the portrait hole, Harry was pleased to find that word hadn't spread, and none of the other Gryffindors barraged them with questions, except for queries about when Quidditch practice would start.

The four of them started on their remaining homework for the evening, and Harry tried not to think about the letter. It was the last thing he needed—more excitement. Why couldn't he have a normal year at Hogwarts? He'd thought, rather bitterly, that with all of the Wizarding world's emphasis on seven, his last year at Hogwarts might be somehow different than his other years. (Different of course, in that it was quiet and uneventful.) Clearly he'd been wrong. Harry was hoping Kreacher would have the culprit rounded up by the end of the night, but he knew it wasn't going to happen. Things were never that simple.

So he distracted himself with homework, which worked for an hour or so, until he finished it all, and then he preoccupied himself by making a practice schedule for Quidditch.

It didn't work very well. When he and Ron dragged themselves up the spiral stairs to their dormitory, he had written a reply to the letter he received the night before without even noticing. It read:

I would still like to meet you.

I don't think you're trying to kill me, otherwise you would have already. Whatever it is you do want from me, I want this over with before things get out of hand. I don't think I'll be able to get into the Room of Requirement again, but we can meet somewhere else. I'll be in the third-floor corridor tomorrow at midnight, if you get this letter.

Harry

Harry set the letter on the foot of his bed after Ron went to sleep, and hoped he wouldn't kick it onto the floor in his sleep.

But it was no use. The next morning, Harry found the letter ripped to pieces under a note that said,

Master Harry should NOT arrange a secret meeting with a fraud who may be after his life!

Kreacher

Harry groaned. He just wanted the ordeal to be out of the way. Even if, by some horrendous gap in Hogwarts' security, a free Death Eater had managed to sneak into and remain hidden in the castle, Harry would rather just duel them and be done with it. He'd taken a year off school to play a game of hide and seek with a Dark wizard, he felt no strong desire to do it again.

Harry's mind was on the letter all morning, but he'd have been better off paying attention in class for all the good it did him. As he learned the night before, there was nothing to go on when it came to the imposter. No evidence, clues, no leads.

By the time lunch came around, Harry had the suspicion that Dumbledore had every portrait in the castle keeping an eye out for him, as he felt watched as he never had before while walking from classroom to classroom.

It wasn't until the end of his double-potions lesson with the Slytherins (all two of them that were left in Slughorn's seventh year class) that Harry was dragged out of his own thoughts.

"Harry, are you listening?" he heard Slughorn ask.

"What—oh, sorry?"

"I was asking," Slughorn said, "if you'd like to come to one of my little parties? I'm sure you remember them. Wasn't much chance for them last year, you see, but with things calmed down a bit, I thought it just the right time to start them up again!"

"Sure," Harry said, without thinking.

"Excellent! It'll be Friday, at seven, my office, as usual. And don't you go getting any detentions, now, Harry, or I'll think you're avoiding me!" Slughorn laughed at his own joke and Harry nodded, realizing the blunder he had just made.

"Oh, it won't be so bad," Ginny said as they walked up the stone steps to dinner. "Hermione's coming, and Ron's been properly invited this much so he won't be sulking about it."

"That's good to hear," Harry said, not really paying attention. His mind was back on figuring out a way to contact the person who had written that letter.

"And Neville's been put back in Slughorn's good graces too," Ginny said, with a scoff. "Apparently he liked Neville's heroics with Voldemort's snake so now he's being all chummy with him. And I hear Scrimgeour's coming, too, so that'll be interesting."

"Mhm," Harry said dimly. He felt a blunt pain in his shoulder and turned to see Ginny had punched him. "What was that for?"

"Oh, I wonder…." Ginny drawled, rolling her eyes. "Scrimgeour at Slughorn's party? Harry, I'd rather you just stop talking than pretend you're listening."

"Sorry," Harry mumbled.

"You've got to stop pulling your hair out over that stupid letter. It'll sort itself out."

"What makes you say that? I wanted a normal year at school, and I'd be surprised if McGonagall doesn't lock up in some classroom by the end of the week if we don't figure this out."

"Well Harry Potter and 'normal' have hardly ever gone together, so I advise you suck it up, Chosen One. If you're looking for normal, I think Slughorn's party is going to be as close to it as you're going to get for a few weeks," Ginny said. "I'm going to sit down for dinner. Would you care to join me, or will you be be fantasizing about meeting some murderer in an empty classroom in the middle of the night?"

"The second one," Harry said flatly.

Ginny glared at him. "I was being sarcastic, but really, that sounds about right, doesn't it?" She laughed bitterly. "Normal girlfriends get to be jealous of other girls, but not me, I have to compete with Death Eaters and criminals. Well, off you go then! Off to your dormitory so you can go brood!"

"Ginny, what are you—"

"Go on, Potter!" she barked, crossing her arms and stamping her foot. She glowered at him, waiting for him to move.

"I haven't had any dinner yet," Harry said weakly.

Ginny fumed, looking furious. "Well enjoy yourself, will you?" Ginny spat, and she stomped past him, practically knocking Harry over.

Harry was bewildered. Normally they could go back and forth with exceptional levels of sarcasm and both come off just fine. But whatever he had done to set her off could be figured out later. He was hungry, and quite angry himself all of a sudden.

Harry sat away from Ron and Hermione, piled a few turkey drumsticks onto his plate, and wolfed them down, eager to be gone from from the crowds in the Great Hall, which were very annoying all of a sudden.

Harry stormed up to his dormitory a few minutes later, determined to discover a way to to contact the letter writer. He sat on his bed, going over what he knew.

Whoever wrote that letter had knowledge of his relationship with Winky. Harry listed off the people that included. None of them had any reason to impersonate her to get him alone. Then he wondered who could get into Hogwarts, into Gryffindor Tower, to deliver that message. That list included Gryffindors (or Hogwarts students, if Harry was being open-minded about it,) house-elves, teachers, and, as proven by his godfather, Animagi who knew what they were doing.

An unregistered Animagus! It would be such a simple solution! His teachers hadn't thought of an Animagus, they had only gone endlessly over names of Death Eaters and possible gaps in the school's protections. There had to be something discreet sitting in his room—bug or a lizard or something. Harry looked wildly around, expecting to find a very small animal waiting to be noticed. There was nothing. The only other living thing in the Boy's Dormitory at the moment was Neville's Mimbulus Mimbletonia.

Not an Animagus then. But what else could deliver the letter? A student, maybe, given the letter and told it was for Harry. No one would have thought anything of it, either. After all, Harry had received dozens of notes and letters in person while at Hogwarts. Yes, a student made sense. But then, what student would know about Harry's connection to both Dobby and Winky? He supposed if someone was really desperate, they could have asked other elves if Harry had been particularly close to them, but Harry thought this extremely unlikely.

Then another thought occurred to Harry. He ran downstairs to find Ron and Hermione. He spotted them in one of the armchairs by the fire, next to Ginny.

"I've just realized—" Harry started eagerly, but Ginny took one look at him and stood up before marching off to the Girls' Dormitory.

"Harry you really ought to apologize," Hermione said, her voice full of pity.

"Apologize for what?" Harry demanded. "I haven't done anything besides be a bit sarcastic—and if that's going to get me in trouble then I expect we won't be talking much in the future."

Hermione sighed, "I don't know why I bother. You boys are so thick. Well? What is it then? What's this great epiphany you've had?"

"Okay then, how about this: What if the person who wrote the letter wasn't the person who delivered it? What if a Death Eater outside school has someone doing their dirty work?" Harry said, quite proud of his theory.

"What's your plan then?" Hermione asked with an amused look. "Interrogate everyone in the school until someone tells you they've done it?"

"Well… there's not too many of us…."

"Harry don't be ridiculous," Hermione said tiredly. "McGonagall's about as likely to force Veritaserum down students' throats as Dumbledore. You heard the professors, Harry, we'll just have to wait. I think Kreacher will be the one to give us a name, if anyone does. Besides, weren't you only this afternoon telling us how big of a deal this wasn't? Weren't you convinced that this person didn't want to kill you?"

Harry felt deflated. He had been hoping for another round of brainstorming with Ron and Hermione, this session far more successful than the others. But Hermione had no interest in matching up every student in the castle (or at least in Slytherin house) with every person who might want Harry dead. And Ron, it turned out, was putting all of his efforts into keeping his silence, as he tended to shout at Harry for making Ginny upset as soon as he opened his mouth.

Deciding he didn't need their help anyway, Harry bolted up the stairs again to his bed, eager to start pairing up names and finding the most likely scenario. He connected the dots that floated around in his mind like people on the Marauder's Map. He went through Death Eater after Death Eater, Slytherin after Slytherin, listing off reasons one would have a connection to the other as well as the desire to kill him.

Ron came up to bed sometime later and went to sleep without a word to Harry.

Ron wasn't the only one not speaking to Harry though, as he soon discovered the next morning. Ginny went through all of their classes, as well as breakfast, lunch, and dinner as if Harry didn't exist.

Hermione was still urging Harry to apologize, "Even if you don't know what you did wrong!" she hissed after Ginny left the Gryffindor table after dinner.

But if Harry was being completely honest, he didn't mind being left alone at the moment. There were too many possibilities running rampant through his mind for him to have much time for anything else. He'd spent all day narrowing down his list of sinister tag-teams, and was so convinced the culprit was one of them that Harry was considering going to McGonagall with his brilliant deductions.

"You'd be wasting your time," Hermione said. "I can guarantee she won't take interest. You should be patching things up with Ginny before they get any worse."

"Oh come off it," Harry sighed. "She can't be that upset if she's still wearing the necklace I gave her."

"Oh Harry…. If only you knew what you were in for."


A/N:

I think the next chapter will be a bit lengthy as things start heating up, so you all can look forward to that :) (if long chapters excite you, that is...)

I hope you're still on board nine chapters in! (- that's like seven more than I expected to write going into this thing...)

I love hearing from you people so drop a review if you feel so inclined!

I have this deep-seated fear of going immensely off-track once I get into the meat of a story, so please let me know if this doesn't feel like the story I advertised or the one you signed up for.