Harry Potter and the Vampire's Assistant

Chapter Ten
"For Whom the Portkey Tolls"

Updated January 20, 2012

Tromp, Tromp. Tromp.

Harry slowly found his way back to consciousness. He didn't really want to, given that Ron was probably dead (really dead, not just undead dead) right now, and it was partly his fault — he'd let Ron try to mesmerize the unicorn.

Tromp. Tromp. Tromp.

His eyes were still closed. The last thing he remembered… he'd been kneeling over Ron's still form, his hand over the gaping hole in his friend's chest — a hole that had been made when the unicorn impaled him upon it. Ron hadn't moved afterward…

Tromp. Tromp. Tromp.

Hagrid had shot him, he remembered. The bolt had gone through his chest. It had been silver-tipped, meaning Hagrid had been hunting either vampires or possibly werewolves. He wondered whether Hagrid thought there were vampires in the Forbidden Forest. He reached down, touching his chest. The wound there had almost healed, despite his vulnerability to silver. How long had he been unconscious?

Tromp. Tromp. Tromp.

That sound, Harry thought. That damnable sound… He opened his eyes, sitting up. He was in Hagrid's cabin, a one-room house, simply built but sufficient for the half-giant's needs. Harry was lying on the floor, between Hagrid's enormous bed and the corner fireplace. Hagrid himself was walking back and forth in front of the front door, seemingly quite agitated. Of Fang there was no sign.

Tromp. Tromp. Tromp.

There was no sign of Ron, either, until Harry glanced over at Hagrid's bed. Ron's body was laid out on it, arms crossed over his chest, on top of a large piece of tarpaulin. Harry rose smoothly and went over to where Ron was lying. The hole in his chest was still there, but much smaller than it had been. Was Ron still ali—

"HARRY!"

Harry turned around to see the half-giant staring incredulously at him. "Harry, what th' hell? We all thought yer were dead!"

"Well," Harry said, dispassionately. "I am — sort of."

"That's not what I MEAN!" Hagrid roared, slamming his fists down on the scrubbed table in the center of his cabin, which promptly shattered into pieces. "Professor Dumbledore tol' us yeh died 'cause of…" he was looking helplessly at Harry. "Well, he didn't actually say what yeh died of," Hagrid muttered, then waved a massive hand toward Harry. "But he sure di'n't say yeh'd become a bloody vampire!"

"It was a bit of a surprise to us, too," Harry replied, somberly. He was not happy about what he was going to have to do; he couldn't allow Hagrid to keep the knowledge that he and Ron were alive. The only person at Hogwarts that knew, other than Dumbledore, was Hermione, and Harry was afraid of what might happen if he or Ron ever saw her again. Something had made her act — strange, after he'd returned her to the Gryffindor common room. She acted attracted to him, as if he'd given her a love potion. That was something Sanguini had told them that vampires could do — they could make their victims, especially those of the opposite sex, feel physically drawn to them. Harry did not like the idea of Hermione as a victim, of him or anyone else.

Harry didn't think something like that was going to work on Hagrid, though. But to command Hagrid's obedience, to make him forget about him and Ron, Harry was going to have to drink some of the half-giant's blood. First, however, he would have to mesmerize him, to keep Hagrid from resisting until it was too late. As strong as Harry was now, he wasn't sure how his strength measured up against his alarmingly large friend.

Hagrid was ruefully surveying the wreckage of his table. "Guess I'm gonna have ter make another one," he muttered, looking down at the shattered pieces strewn about the floor.

"Hagrid," Harry said, looking at him intently.

Hagrid looked up at him. "What?" he asked, blankly. They locked eyes, and Hagrid's mouth slowly fell open as his eyes seemed to defocus. Harry listened for a moment to his heartbeat; it was strong and steady, though it beat so loudly it almost seemed to echo throughout the cabin. It was strange listening to the echoes of his heartbeat coming off the walls of the cabin.

"Easy, Hagrid," Harry said, moving slowly toward him. "Just listen to my voice, only my voice. You're feeling tired, sleepy… Sit down." Hagrid sat in one of the chairs that hadn't broken when he shattered the table.

Was he really going to do this? Harry couldn't see any other choice. Hermione knowing about them was too much, but he had to trust her, after everything they'd been through together!

Even seated, Harry had to stand on tiptoe to reach Hagrid's neck. His beard and mass of tangled black hair was making it difficult for Harry to find an uncovered spot on his neck. He would need only a little—a couple of mouthfuls of Neville's blood was enough to make him susceptible to Harry's influence. He opened his mouth, his fangs extending, and bent toward Hagrid's throat —

A hand closed on his shoulder, and surprising strength pulled him away. Ron was on his feet, staring at Harry in shock. There was a red mark on his chest where the unicorn had gored him, but the wound was closed, Harry saw. "Harry, what are you doing?" he shouted. "We're not supposed to drink human blood! You told me that!"

Harry whirled around, facing his friend. "We have to make sure Hagrid doesn't remember finding us," he snapped. Hagrid was still sitting docilely, a blank expression on his huge face. "What if he tells someone?"

"Who's he gonna tell?" Ron snapped back. "You, me an' Hermione were his best friends here at school, an' I doubt Hermione's come to visit him since we — since we…left."

"And you'd be wrong," said Hermione's voice, from another corner of the cabin.

Aw, crap.

Hermione's head appeared from beneath the Invisibility Cloak. The last time Harry had seen her, she was giving him a doe-eyed look of fascination. Now, she merely looked furious. "You're both alive!" she said, accusingly.

Harry and Ron both stared at her, nonplussed. "Sorry to disappoint you," Ron finally retorted, icily, "but you're wrong!" Smugly, "We're undead, not alive."

Hermione tore off the rest of the Cloak, letting it drop to the floor. "I know what you are, Ron Weasley!" she said, stamping her foot. She nodded her head toward Harry. "Harry came to visit me a few nights ago, to have me help him —" she glanced at Hagrid, who still seemed to be mesmerized. "To help him do something," she went on, shooting Harry a poisonous look at the same time. "But then he must've thought I wasn't trustworthy enough to let me remember — he made me forget that we'd even met! But I still remembered it as a dream, and I've been working on figuring out the dream ever since."

Ron whirled on Harry. "Why'd you make her forget, Harry? Hermione's our friend!"

"I didn't try to make her forget!" Harry protested. "But she — she —" Aw crap again! he thought. I can't say why I shouted for her to forget we were together! "It must've been too much for her to remember!"

"Too much for HERMIONE?" Ron roared laughter. "Right — pull the other one, Harry!"

"Ginny and I were talking and —" Hermione began.

"Ginny knows we're alive?" Ron exploded.

"No," Hermione shook her head. "She was helping me figure out what my dream meant, is all. We went to Professor Dumbledore to see if I could use his Pensieve to see it more clearly, but he convinced us it was just a dream. That makes me wonder what he knows about the two of you, by the way. Anyway, I thought I could help you —" looking at Harry "— and the Headmaster by getting that memory from Professor Slughorn that you needed, and I'd written up a page of arguments to use to convince him, but then I remembered the bottle of Felix Felicis in your trunk and I went up and drank a bit using the Invisibility Cloak, but Neville caught me and I had to convince him he would be honoring Harry's memory by keeping my visit to himself, and I went to see Professor Slughorn and convinced him to give me the memory." She brought the vial out from under her robes.

"You got it?" Harry's eyes widened in surprise as he saw the vial of swirling silvery thought. "Why didn't you bring it right to Dumbledore?"

"Felix told me to come here," Hermione answered. "It made me think there was something going on in Hagrid's cabin I should know about. When I got here, the cabin was empty but the door was open, a bit. I came in and stood in the corner, waiting for Hagrid. Fang came in a while ago and jumped into his bed, but I think he smelled me because he jumped up and began sniffing the floor, coming toward me. Just then Hagrid came in, carrying the two of you, and Fang bolted out of here like someone had hit him with a Running Hex."

"Sanguini said that many animals are afraid to be around vampires," Ron interjected.

"Sanguini? Wasn't he that vampire at Professor Slughorn's Christmas party?" Hermione recalled.

"Half-vampire," Ron corrected, but he smiled without showing his teeth. Really, it was nice seeing Hermione again; he'd expected they'd never cross paths once he'd become a vampire. "They're the only vampires the Wizarding world knows about; everyone thinks vampires are much less powerful than they really are, including, eh, You-Know-Who."

"Ron, too much information," Harry muttered, grimacing, but it was too late.

Hermione was shaking her head in near-disbelief. "You mean there's a secret society of vampires, hidden from the Wizarding World, which is itself hiding from the Muggle world? I'm almost not even surprised at that."

Harry was running his hand through his head of unruly black hair in frustration. "That's not even what's important at that moment, anyway," he told her. "What's important is getting that memory back to Dumbledore as quick as we can." He looked at Hagrid, who was still sitting in the chair, a look of total blankness on his face. "And I've still got to drink some of Hagrid's blood, so I can command him to forget Ron and I were ever here."

"No you don't," Hermione spoke up. "Once you've got him hypnotized this deeply, you can tell him to do whatever you want."

Ron looked at her in surprise. "How d'you know that — read it in some book?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact," Hermione retorted archly. "In The Secret Society of Vampires, by the vampire Lestoat. It was supposed to be a novel about a secret society of vampires around the world that was controlling all the other vampires. They had special powers regular vampires didn't. Everyone thought he made it up, but apparently there was some truth behind it. In it he described how vampires could hypnotize people and take control of them."

"I tried to do that with Neville," Harry objected. "It didn't work!"

"Did you hypnotize him first?" Hermione asked.

"I — er, I thought I just had to command him, but he started yelling, and I had to shut him up."

"You drank Neville's blood?" Ron said, in a revolted tone. "Neville? Er, how'd it taste?" he wondered, suddenly interested.

"Eww!" Hermione said shrilly. "That's gross, Ron!"

Ron threw up his hands, embarrassed. "I wasn't going to try and find out for myself, thank you very much!"

"Let's get back on track here!" Harry demanded. "Ron, see if there's anything in that keg," he said, pointing to a barrel sitting near the fireplace. He ran over to the cupboard and pulled down one of Hagrid's enormous mugs, then joined Ron next to the keg. It hadn't been tapped but Harry drove a finger through the top and pulled out the slat. Harry tipped the keg to one side, sloshing some into the mug and letting some spill onto the floor. He put the slat back in place.

"Hermione, can you fix this so Hagrid won't know it was opened?" Harry asked her. "And his table as well. That way he won't be suspicious of why it's broken." Hermione sighed and took out her wand, casting Reparo on the slat and the table. They put the mug in Hagrid's hand, and Harry sprinkled some of the contents (which smelled like butterbeer) on Hagrid's beard and clothing.

"Hagrid," he said softly in the giant's ear. "You've been sleeping for the past several hours, and you dreamed about finding Harry Potter and Ron Weasley in the Forest while you were hunting vampires. It was just a dream — you didn't really find them. You'll wake up in the morning and remember nothing else about last night."

"Why not just make him forget everything?" Ron asked, as Harry stepped away from the sleeping giant.

"If he thinks he dreamed it, he might not wonder what he was doing last night," Harry explained.

Ron looked at Hermione, then back at Harry. "This is Hagrid we're talking about, remember."

"Ron! That's a cruel thing to say!" Hermione admonished him, but she was hiding half a smile as she said it.

"Well, it's true!" Ron retorted. "Hagrid's not the sharpest knife in the —"

"We get it, Ron," Harry said, not particularly amused by Ron's comment. They'd been careless and stupid themselves earlier; first, letting a unicorn gore Ron, then not paying enough attention to their surroundings so that a human as big as Hagrid (even as quiet as he could be sometimes, especially when hunting) sneak up on them. And then, he hadn't realized Hermione was in the cabin with them until she revealed herself! They were not doing well at all.

Harry rubbed his forehead tiredly (but more from frustration than actual fatigue) and turned to Hermione. "We need to get that memory to Dumbledore right away," he told her.

Hermione blinked. "But it's past midnight," she protested. "He'll be asleep by now."

"Maybe," Harry didn't look particularly worried. "He'll wake up for this, though. Put the Invisibility Cloak back on and we'll go up to see him."

"It will be difficult to make it all the way through the castle to his office," Hermione pointed out. "Even with your Cloak."

Harry smiled wryly. "We're not going through the castle, and neither are you."

Several minutes later the trio found themselves next to the castle walls beneath the window to Dumbledore's office. Hermione was looking upward with some trepidation. "Are you sure you can fly up that high, carrying me?"

"Using a Levitation Charm on yourself will help," Harry said, mildly. "It worked before."

Hermione shot him a sharp look; she was still annoyed that he'd made her forget their first meeting, even inadvertently. Nonetheless, she pulled out her wand and cast Wingardium Leviosa on herself; soon, she was floating about an inch off the ground. Harry and Ron each took one of her arms and, nodding to each other, jumped upward. They soared into the sky, straight up along the castle's wall and to the window the Headmaster had left open. At the window, the two vampires set her on the windowsill and let her jump down into Dumbledore's office before following Ron inside behind her.

In Dumbledore's office, the headmaster was at his desk, writing on a long parchment scroll. He had looked up, and was regarding the three of them with an expression of amused resignation.

"I suppose I should have expected this visitation before long," he said, a wry smile tweaking at his lips. "Harry and Ron, I hope you have considered the potential ramifications of allowing Miss Granger knowledge of your existence."

"Not like we had a choice," Ron pointed out. "She found us."

"Oh, and how did that come about?" the headmaster asked.

"Just lucky, I suppose, sir," Hermione said, not quite smiling herself. "I was in Hagrid's cabin and —"

Dumbledore put up a hand, stopping her. "Is Hagrid aware of your existence?" he asked the two vampires, a concerned expression on his face.

"He found us in the Forbidden Forest," Harry replied. "Hey may have thought we were killing the unicorns there. I left him in his cabin asleep — he'll think he dreamed about us when he wakes up."

"And Miss Granger? Did he see her at any time?"

"No, sir. She was under my Invisibility Cloak."

"I see," Dumbledore looked thoughtful for several seconds. "May I presume you made it available to her?"

"Uh —" Harry didn't know what to say to that. "Well, I let her use it to sneak out of the castle one night so we could go to the Forbidden Forest and get some unicorn blood for Ron, and afterward —" Afterwards was something he didn't want to get into right now. "— afterwards, I guess I, uh, forgot she had it."

"Mmm," Dumbledore nodded. He turned to Hermione. "I suggest, Miss Granger, that you guard it well. It is a very useful item — no good could come of having it falling into the wrong hands," he said, quite soberly.

Hermione nodded, convinced by the headmaster's demeanor.

"Now, if you don't mind," Dumbledore said, seeming to sag a bit. "I have a few things to do before retiring this evening, and I would like to go back to doing them —"

Hermione suddenly jerked. "Oh! I nearly forgot why we came here! Headmaster, I have Professor Slughorn's memory!" She brought out the vial of Slughorn's thoughts.

If Harry thought the headmaster looked stunned when the three of them appeared at his study window, it was nothing compared to the look of surprise on his face now.

"Miss Granger, this is spectacular news! Very well done! I am quite pleased you were able to recover this memory from Horace!" If the professor had seemed tired a moment earlier, it was immediately forgotten. He hurried around from his desk, taking the bottle from Hermione and strode over to the cabinet where he kept his Pensieve. After placing it on the desk, he emptied the contents of the bottle into it. Hermione stepped up eagerly to the desk and the headmaster looked up quickly at her, a small apologetic frown on his face.

"Miss Granger," he said gently, "at risk of offending you, I would prefer that Harry and I view this memory first."

Hermione took a step back, looking disappointed. "Sir?" she asked, with a bit of asperity, "do you think Harry will even be able to use the Pensieve, given that he's a vampire?"

Dumbledore was giving her a penetrating look; Harry and Ron were looking at each other, both wondering if she was right — was their magical ability so far gone that they couldn't even be affected by magic, much less use it? For that was the thought Hermione was thinking at the moment.

"I'm sure he will be able to use the Pensieve, Miss Granger," Dumbledore assured her. "It has been used by vampires before."

Everyone's eyes widened at that remark. "Who —?" Ron began, but cut himself off. He and Harry had already caught the image that had come, unbidden, into Dumbledore's mind.

Von Necros.

"For now," the headmaster was saying, as he stepped around behind the desk once again. "Harry and I will view the memory; afterwards, we will share the details of what we've seen with you and Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley."

He gestured for Harry to join him at the desk. "Now, at last, we shall see," he said. "Quickly, Harry…"

Harry and Dumbledore leaned over the Pensieve, and their bodies were suddenly drawn into the stone bowl. Hermione took an involuntary step backwards, startled, then looked at Ron, who had glanced at her with an inquiring look on his face, as if he expected her to say something.

Hermione suddenly felt uncomfortable for the first time since seeing Harry and Ron, without really knowing why. Ron's expression wasn't aggressive or angry, yet he seemed to be expecting something of her. "What is it, Ron?" she finally asked.

Ron almost looked surprised by this question; he'd apparently been expecting her to say something else. "Don't you have something to say to me?" he asked.

"Like what?" she wanted to know.

"Well… like how you're sorry about being mad at me and not telling me before I, well, died, you know."

"Sorry?" Hermione was incredulous. "You were snogging Lavender! You were doing it all over the school. I couldn't swing a dead cat without seeing you and her all wrapped up in each other!"

Ron folded his arms across his chest. "Yeah? Well you snogged Viktor Krum, didn't you, and never told me about it. At least I was more honest than you were!"

"Oh, and who told you I snogged Viktor?" Hermione challenged, crossing her own arms mockingly. "Did it ever occur to you that might have been just a rumor?"

"You did go to the Yule Ball with him," Ron pointed out.

"Which you ruined with your stupid jealousy!" Hermione snapped back at him. "Even your own date said so!"

"I didn't even pick her," Ron shrugged. "Harry did, he made some kind of deal with them (referring to the Patil twins, Parvati and Padma) where he'd take Parvati and I'd take Padma. Padma was Ravenclaw, she and I didn't have much in common."

Hermione bit back an icy retort. "I don't know why this even matters to you now," she said instead. "You're a vampire — you could just hypnotize me and make me fall back in love with you."

Ron looked affronted at that. "I wouldn't do that!" he insisted. "Harry and I are going to destroy Voldemort — that's why we were made vampires, not to go around hypnotizing girls so we can drink their blood!"

"Oh, so you're afraid to drink my blood, is that it?" Hermione said, her voice turning shrill. "Would you rather drink Lavender's blood, is that it?"

"You're mental," Ron snorted. "I just wanted to know if you were sorry for being mad at me all that time when we still could've been friends, that's all."

"You wanted to snog Lavender and still be friends with me?" Hermione looked at him in disbelief. "And you think I'm mental?" She turned away from him. "Ron, shut it before I send another flock of birds after you!"

Ron glared at her, briefly considering mesmerizing her just to make her apologize for that, when Harry and Dumbledore suddenly appeared, flowing back out of the Pensieve and standing over it.

"I have been hoping for this piece of evidence for a very long time," Dumbledore said to Harry. "It confirms the theory on which I have been working, it tells me that I am right, and also how very far there still is to go…"

Dumbledore stopped, looking past Harry, who turned around to see both Hermione and Ron in strained, angry stances. Hermione looked near tears, and Ron had a stubborn, vexed look on his face. "All right there, Ron?" Harry asked, before the headmaster could speak.

Ron's face twisted. "Yeah," he said after a moment, but Harry caught an eye roll from Hermione; she didn't share his opinion.

"Perhaps, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger," Dumbledore suddenly interjected. "You will join Harry and me for a discussion of the memory we've just viewed."

After a moment both of them seemed to relax; they walked over to where Harry and Dumbledore were standing. Hermione moved next to Harry, while Ron stepped to Harry's other side, away from her. The inference wasn't lost on Harry—they'd been arguing while he and the headmaster were in the memory.

Dumbledore gestured toward Harry. "If you would, please… describe what we just saw."

Harry recounted landing in Professor Slughorn's office many years before today. He was much younger then, with thick, shiny, straw-colored hair and a gingery-blond mustache. He was surrounded by a group of boys; among them Tom Riddle. Harry didn't mention that Marvolo Gaunt's gold and black ring was on Riddle's finger.

Riddle made small talk, impressing Slughorn with his knowledge of what was going on with the Hogwarts staff before Slughorn sent them off as the bedtime bell sounded. But Riddle remained behind to ask Slughorn a question. At this point, Harry hesitated. "Sir? Do you want me —"

"Yes, Harry," Dumbledore prompted. "They should both understand what Riddle was trying to accomplish." Harry nodded and continued, recounting that Riddle asked the Slytherin Head of House about Horcruxes. Slughorn explained, after being flattered by Riddle, that a Horcrux was an object used to conceal part of a person's soul, after splitting it. The splitting required an act of murder, a violation against nature, and the part of the soul that had been torn away was placed in the object with a certain spell.

But Riddle's curiosity went beyond even this, Harry continued. He wanted to know if the soul could be split more than once; into, say, seven pieces, since seven was the most powerfully magical number, for example. Slughorn entreated Riddle not to speak of the conversation with anyone else, and Riddle agreed, probably for his own motives, Harry added, before he left the Potion Master's office.

"And that was it," Harry finished. "We left the memory right after."

Hermione was looking stricken. "How awful," she whispered. "That such evil magic exists…"

"It is indeed Dark, horrible magic," Dumbledore concurred. "But I now have no doubt that Tom Riddle used it to make himself immortal. Did you see the ring on Riddle's finger, Harry?"

Harry nodded. Dumbledore then addressed himself to Ron and Hermione. "Riddle was wearing a gold ring inset with a single black stone, a stone he believed was engraved with the family crest of the Gaunt family, from which he obtained it by taking it from his uncle, Morfin Gaunt, after the latter had returned from Azkaban, having spent three years there for using magic in front of a Muggle.

"By then," Dumbledore continued, "Riddle had already created one Horcrux —" Hermione gasped in horror "—which you and Mr. Weasley have already seen, though you did not realize its true nature — Tom Riddle's diary."

"That was a Horcrux," Ron blurted out. "And Ginny had it with her for most of her first year! Why didn't you warn her?"

"I did not know of its true nature, either," Dumbledore explained, "until Tom Riddle appeared to Harry and was destroyed when Harry stabbed the diary with the Basilisk's fang."

"Why didn't you tell us then?" Harry asked, sounding faintly accusing.

"I believed you were too young at the time," Dumbledore said, frankly. "As I explained to you at the end of the previous school year, I was reluctant to force you into knowing things I believed only older ears should hear. I now know I was mistaken then, and given your and Mr. Weasley's current condition, you have had ruder shocks than this."

"I'll say!" Ron agreed fervently.

"Quite," Dumbledore nodded. "I must warn all three of you not to say anything to anyone what you've learned here tonight. It is quite imperative that no one in the Wizarding world learns of Horcruxes — since Tom Riddle used the Library and Horace Slughorn's knowledge to learn about them, I have made sure the books were removed so that no other students could learn about them, and Horace has kept his secret until tonight. Now, I think it would be for the best if Miss Granger returns to her dormitory, and the two of you to the Chamber of Secrets, to consider what you have learned here today."

It was evident from the looks Harry, Ron and Hermione gave one another that they'd had other plans in mind after talking to Dumbledore, but —

"Yes, sir," Hermione said, her voice meek and obedient. She turned toward the door, then stopped. "Sir, what should I do if I'm stopped by a prefect or teacher —?"

But Dumbledore was already writing on a piece of parchment. "Here, Miss Granger," he said, holding it out toward her, and it floated through the air to her. "Give that to anyone who stops you, it should suffice to allow you passage this one time to the Gryffindor common room."

Hermione nodded, then gave Harry and Ron both a look before turning and leaving through the great polished oaken door of Dumbledore's office. As she left, Harry heard her thoughts quite clearly. I hope I don't run into him again…

Who did she mean? Harry wondered. Filch? She had a note from the Headmaster that gave her permission to be out of bed! He listened further, but Hermione's thoughts had turned to making her way back to the Gryffindor common room. Who might she be worried about meeting in the corridors of Hogwarts other than a teacher of prefect? Mrs. Norris? Not much different than meeting Filch, except Mrs. Norris just meowed rather than yelled at you.

"Professor," Harry said suddenly, just as Hermione was passing through the door. "Shouldn't Hermione have the password to your office, in case she finds out something else you need to know?"

Dumbledore did not answer, but Hermione turned around and said, "I already know the password, Harry —" Toffee éclair, Harry heard her think, and he mentally filed away the words "— but thank you for thinking I'll find out something else the Headmaster needs to know." With a final nod she closed the office door behind her.

After she was gone, Harry turned back to the headmaster. "Sir, do you think Ron and I might return to the Forbidden Forest? We weren't able to get any blood before Hagrid, uh —"

"Well, I certainly would not deny any of my other students their meals," Dumbledore pointed out. "I see no reason to deny you yours. However, the next time you enter the window, please be quiet; I sleep rather lightly these days."

Harry waited until they were well inside the Forbidden Forest again before he told Ron what he'd overheard from Hermione's thoughts. "I suspect it was Draco Malfoy she almost ran into," he confided to his best friend, in a low voice.

"Yeah, but you suspect Malfoy of pretty near everything bad that happens these days," Ron pointed out. "Not without good cause, mind you."

It was true; Harry was pretty sure Malfoy was doing something for Voldemort — he'd as good as admitted it, in Harry's opinion, while he was talking with Snape before Christmas. So —

"When we get done here," Harry said, his voice still low. "I want us to see if we can find Malfoy or anyone sneaking around the seventh floor."

"Even though we're not supposed to set foot anywhere in the castle except the Headmaster's office or the Chamber of Secrets?" Ron reminded him.

"Right," Harry said

"It's beginning to feel like old times already," Ron grinned.

Several hours later, after each catching a deer and drinking its blood, Ron and Harry were back in the now-deserted Headmaster's office, listening intently for any thoughts or sounds coming from the corridor outside the entrance to the office.

"This isn't quite what I'd envisioned us doing when you said 'I want us to see if we can find Malfoy sneaking around the seventh floor,'" Ron muttered mutinously.

"I don't want us just wandering around the seventh floor like a couple of rebellious first-years," Harry said. "And keep your voice down — I don't want to wake the professor."

Ron made a rude noise — but at least he made it quietly, Harry noticed. "Still not hearing anyone down there?" he asked a minute later, as Harry continued to concentrate on any thoughts coming from the corridor.

"No," Harry murmured. "Still don't hear any heartbeats or breathing?"

"Just a few rats farting," Ron quipped.

They had been at this for a couple of hours now; Harry was beginning to wonder whether Malfoy ever walked down the corridor at all — Hermione had almost run into him near the Gryffindor common room, some distance from the corridor they were surveilling.

"Not long before daylight," Ron observed, looking out the window that faced east, toward the Forbidden Forest. There was a dim glow hovering above the trees in the distance. He was right, Harry thought — they would soon have to go back down to the Chamber of Secrets. Harry glanced at the statue of the troll sitting on Dumbledore's desk; every five minutes it shifted between the chamber and this office. "I think you're going to have to call 'no joy' tonight, Harry."

"Yeah…" Harry agreed, reluctantly. He walked over to the headmaster's desk, standing beside Ron in front of the troll statue Portkey. They both placed their fingers on it as it flashed in preparation to whisking them back to the Chamber of Secrets.

…Stupid damned cat…making me go out of my way down this corridor…

It was Malfoy's thoughts, Harry realized, as he turned toward the door of the office, taking his finger off the statue. Ron's head turned with his; therefore, he missed Harry removing his finger. The statue flashed blue and it and Ron disappeared in a flash of whirling color.

Ron's gonna be pissed, Harry thought, but his primary concern was now finding out what Malfoy was up to. He stepped through the door to the office then paused at the top of the spiral staircase, listening. …Not sure which way to go… where is that corridor, anyway… Must be this way… Malfoy's thoughts were beginning to fade as he moved further down the corridor. Harry waited several seconds, until Malfoy seemed to turn a corner. He didn't want the Slytherin to hear the entrance to Dumbledore's office opening.

Finally stepping out into the seventh-floor corridor, Harry listened carefully for Malfoy's heartbeat and breathing. In the many corridors of Hogwarts, it was slightly harder to tell where a heartbeat was coming from. Harry made a decision and began moving down the corridor, trying to detect whether he was getting closer or further from the heartbeat.

Another heartbeat suddenly impinged on his senses — beating faster but much softer than Malfoy's. He listened for any thoughts but heard nothing. Harry moved into the shadows of a nearby corner and became motionless, watching. A few seconds later Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat, came into view. The cat seemed to be looking for Malfoy; it passed within six feet of where Harry stood without so much as a glance in his direction. Must be on a mission from Filch, Harry thought, humorlessly. The dratted cat was going to mess up him tailing Malfoy!

Mrs. Norris rounded a corner some distance away and Harry began moving again. At the corner he stopped and listened; Malfoy had gone straight at this intersection — Mrs. Norris had lost the scent, somehow! Harry continued straight down the corridor as well, following Malfoy.

Malfoy was evidently as lost as Mrs. Norris had been; he was wandering up and down corridors on the seventh floor seemingly at random. Why was he even up here, Harry wondered. At length he stopped, trying to tune into Malfoy's thoughts. Where's that damned thing…? This corridor…? …that stupid cat… wait, here it is!... Now I just need to —

Padded footsteps were approaching from behind Harry; it was Mrs. Norris again! Harry looked around quickly but there was no convenient dark corner for him to fade into, nor any rooms nearby. He could hear the cat's footsteps coming closer, closer. There was only one avenue left open to him.

Harry stepped closer to the nearest wall and began climbing it, using small indentations in the stone to pull himself up close to the ceiling. He moved so he pressed himself into the edge of the wall against the ceiling, then looked back down to the floor, watching as Mrs. Norris trotted by. The cat stopped just below him and seemed to look around, as if it expected to find someone nearby. Finally it turned and walked back the way it had come.

After a few moments Harry dropped soundlessly to the floor. That was close, he admonished himself. He listened for Malfoy's thoughts, but nothing reached him. More mysteriously, the sound of his heartbeat and breathing had disappeared as well. Harry walked slowly around the nearest corner and into the corridor beyond.

The corridor seemed familiar to him. He'd obviously come this way at times during his time as a student. He stopped for a moment, listening, but the only sounds he heard was the fading heartbeats of Mrs. Norris. Where had Malfoy gone? On his left was a wall tapestry, an image of a wild-eyed man trying to instruct trolls in the ballet—the half-dozen monstrosities in the picture were clothed in out-sized tutus, trying to balance on their toes. The image always brought an involuntary smile to Harry's lips, even now. He would see this thing every time he came out of —

Harry whirled to face the bare wall across from the tapestry. The Room of Requirement! This is where the entrance was! Harry slapped himself on the top of his head for not thinking of it sooner! Draco knew where the Room was — he was one of the Inquisitional Squad members that came looking for them after Marietta Edgecombe ratted them out to Dolores Umbridge. Harry's fists tightened in anger as he thought of Umbridge — she was almost worth draining, even if it turned him Dark forever.

Harry stepped closer to the blank wall, determined to get inside and see what Draco was up to. Would it work for him even if he was no longer magical? There was only one way to find out. Harry began pacing back and forth in front of the wall, thinking, I need to find out what Draco Malfoy is up to, I need to get into the room where he's at. But even after pacing back and forth a dozen times, the door to the Room of Requirement wouldn't open. Harry stopped, discouraged. He would have to get Hermione here sometime, have her try to open the door.

Or… he could have Neville do it now! Harry directed a thought toward his old dorm room. Neville, wake up and come to the corridor where the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy is located. Neville's disjoined, sleepy thoughts came back to him. Wha —? Oh, yes, right away, Master.

Oh, and mind you watch for Mrs. Norris, Harry added, wincing as Neville called him "Master." A few minutes later Neville padded into the corridor, looking like he was sleepwalking. "You called for me, Master?" Neville said blearily, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Don't call me 'Master,'" Harry hissed. "Just call me 'Harry' — and don't forget, you still think I'm dead and you're just dreaming about me.

Neville nodded obediently. "What do you wish of me, Mas— er, Harry?"

Harry pointed to the wall they stood in front of. "You remember the Room of Requirement?" Neville nodded again. "Well, Draco Malfoy is inside there, plotting some kind of harm to befall Professor Dumbledore." Neville's face, even half-asleep, showed shock and concern.

"What can I do to help, uh, Harry?" he asked.

Briefly Harry explained that he wanted Neville to try and get into the Room. He wasn't sure what Malfoy was up to in there, but it was almost certainly no good and would bring harm to the Headmaster. Neville was to use those facts in his need to get into the room.

Harry watched tensely for nearly twenty minutes as Neville paced back and forth in front of the wall, repeating phrases over and over again. "I need to see what Malfoy is planning. I need to find out what Malfoy is up to. I need to find Draco Malfoy." But the Room refused to open.

Harry could sense the oncoming sunrise. He was going to have to get back to Dumbledore's office pretty quickly; the Portkey would transfer back to the Chamber in about two minutes (Harry had been keeping track with his watch). If he missed that it would be another ten minutes before the transfer worked again, and the sun would be up by then. Harry could stay awake a little past sunrise, but ten minutes would be pushing his luck. "Neville, stop."

Neville stopped pacing and looked passively at Harry. "Go back to bed," Harry commanded him. "Forget about what I've just had you do. If anyone asks why you're up, pretend to be sleepwalking." Neville turned and walked away slowly toward the Gryffindor common room. Harry then hurried back to the corridor where the stone gargoyle guarded the secret entrance to Dumbledore's office.

"Toffee éclair," he said, and the gargoyle jumped aside, giving him access to the spiral staircase. At the top of the steps, Harry quickly opened the polished door to the office and stepped inside. As expected, the Portkey statue was sitting on Dumbledore's desk. There was also a thin shaft of sunlight, the very beginning of sunrise, coming through the east window. Unfortunately, it was very close to the statue, and Harry would have to go around it to reach the Portkey. He moved quickly to the far edge of the room, walking around its curvature until he was past the shaft of sunlight. He reached for the statue —

—which suddenly disappeared in a puff of whirling color. "Dammit!" Harry muttered. It would be five minutes before the statue reappeared, and another five before it could return him to the Chamber of Secrets! Already tiredness and lethargy were beginning to settle into his limbs; Harry doubted he could last another ten minutes, even in only reflected sunlight. He looked around frantically, wondering if there was any place he could hide himself while he waited for the statue to reappear. The room had many shelves, and upon them many, many books, but there was no way to hide himself in the shelves, nor in the black cabinet where Dumbledore kept his Pensieve. Harry might have hidden in the space beneath the desk, but he would be discovered by Dumbledore the moment the headmaster sat down. Harry turned to a second door, one that he knew must lead to the Headmaster's private quarters, but even as he tried to open it he knew it would fail — he needed Dumbledore's permission to enter, and he was asleep. "Professor!" Harry said loudly, but there was no response. He could hear the sound of a low, steady snoring from the room, but no heartbeat. Why couldn't he hear the headmaster's heart beating? He turned to the perch behind the entrance to the office, but Fawkes was not there. Was he in the bedchamber with Dumbledore? Harry couldn't hear the phoenix's heartbeat, either.

Three more minutes until the statue reappeared. Eight more before it could take him back to the Chamber; Harry was fast beginning to weaken as sunrise came on. He had to get out of the sunlight very quickly or risk falling unconscious and being destroyed by the light before Dumbledore could find him! His eyes suddenly fell on another window, one in which someone looking out it could see the Quidditch pitch in the distance, near the west wall of the grounds. If the window faced west —

Harry moved to the window, avoiding the widening shaft of morning sunlight from the east window. He opened it and looked down. A portion of the castle's roof was directly below it, its edge showing a seven-story drop to the ground along the north edge of the castle. The north side of the castle was still in shadow. Harry could make it to the ground — if he could handle the seven-story drop.

There wasn't really much choice. Harry stepped up on the window sill, then stepped off, trying to use his power of flight to slow his descent. He landed heavily on the roof of the castle, breaking loose some of the stone tiling. His fall hadn't been as controlled as he'd liked, but he'd made the approximately three-story jump. The next seven stories might be more difficult…

…unless he climbed down the wall, just as he'd climbed up the corridor wall to evade Mrs. Norris! Harry walked to the edge of the roof, then climbed over the edge, taking hold of the wall and lowering himself downwards. As with the corridor wall, small indentations in the side of the castle enabled him to support himself on the way down; fortunately the castle wall was rougher than the corridor had been, because Harry's strength was beginning to wane. He climbed down as fast as he was able, though he did not want to fall before he reached the third floor — that was the furthest he thought he could fall without sustaining injury.

He was beginning to feel hot. Harry glanced at the skin on his hands, saw that they were beginning to blister; even reflected sunlight from the grass and walls to the north of him was affecting him. Near the fourth floor, Harry decided to jump and fly as hard as he could — with any luck he wouldn't be badly damaged in the fall. He let go of the wall, falling faster and faster even though he was pushing upward as hard as he could, and slammed into the ground next to the castle wall.

Surprisingly, he wasn't hurt, though his weakness was making it difficult to move. Harry dug his hands into the ground; it was hard-packed and difficult to break through, but Harry's strength was still enough to open up a hole big enough for him to lean into, pressing the soil below aside so he could slip into the ground feet first. He worked his legs, deepening the hole, and with his hands broke apart the ground above him, caving in the hole he'd just made.

Now, a few feet beneath the ground, in total darkness, he felt sleep once again encompassing him. Harry closed his eyes, hoping that no one would notice the slight depression in the ground where he'd caved it in above him. Especially not Hagrid, who as Groundskeeper would be likely to notice if he happened to come this way during the day. If he did, Harry might never wake up if the giant unearthed him into the daytime sunlight. But it was too late to worry about that now, as sleep overtook him.