~ Chapter 11 ~
Quidditch Trials

"He has the what?"

Ron asked again as he, Harry, and Hermione stood grouped in front of the hearth in McGonagall's office, focused on the heads of Arthur and Molly Weasley in the fire.

"Charlie has the fumps, and so does Lorraine, the poor dears. Feet swelled up to more than twice their size. They can't even get around very well. I do hope they'll be able to get themselves something to eat." Mrs. Weasley was even more fretful than usual any time one of her children was ill, even once the children were adults. But when they were ill and so far away, nothing would appease her but an Official Bill of Good Health from the Mistress of Wizard Medicine herself.

"Molly, my dear, it's just a childhood disease they came down with as adults. They'll survive, I promise," Mr. Weasley said encouragingly, then turned back to Ron. "So, son, the point is, Charlie and Lorraine will be fine, but they won't be able to take you to Ireland on holiday as planned. The fumps will last at least another week, and the match is in three days-"

"But, Dad, everything's all set up! Harry's even allowed to go!" Ron protested, beginning to panic.

"Hold on-hold on-let me finish. Now, your mother and I had a long talk about this-but we do have some concerns-"

"Can't we go by ourselves? Just the three of us?" Ron asked impatiently, interrupting again.

"No, Ron. Will you let your father finish?" Mrs. Weasley demanded tersely, moving easily from fretful to irritated, thanks to Ron's rudeness.

Ron backed down and stood quietly. He knew how far to push his mum. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"Now," Mr. Weasley began again. "We considered all the options to try and make this work for you. We know it's important for your sixteenth and all, plus Professor Dumbledore told us you've been doing a fine job dealing with this telempath situation. We're very proud of you, Ron, and think you should have this. But- we can't let you go on your own- the three of you aren't even of age to be issued a Portkey yet. We've spoken to the only two who areold enough and are free at this late notice to go with you."

"Threatened to hex them to Australia and back if they don't behave, is more like it," Mrs. Weasley put in under her breath.

Suddenly, the office door, which had been closed, burst open, and a great deal of noise and movement rushed into the room at once. Professor McGonagall, who had consented to the Weasleys using her office fireplace for their private conversation, had been working at her desk, and was startled to her feet.

"Did they tell you yet?" George called to Ron, Harry, and Hermione excitedly.

"Isn't it great ?" Fred almost shouted, bounding up to the group near the fire behind his twin.

"Gentlemen!" Professor McGonagall said sternly. "I'll thank you to knock at my office door any time it is closed in the future, or points will be taken-from seventh years in my own house, if necessary !"

"Oh, sorry, Professor," George said quietly, calming immediately.

Fred, however, was more fearful of who he saw before him than of Professor McGonagall. He held out his arm in front of his twin to stop him from further celebration. "George," he hissed under his breath. "George, they're still here! Act responsible !"

"Oh, hi, Mum," George said politely, with as mature a voice as he could muster.

"Hello, Dad," Fred said, trying to sound as if he were closer to thirty-five than eighteen.

Arthur and Molly Weasley were apparently able to hear the commotion in the room, but found themselves unable to see its cause due to the glow of the fire. Mrs. Weasley had a good guess as to who was to blame.

"That better nothave been you two," she growled at the twins.

The twins looked behind them, as if someone else was there. "Oh, no. Not really. Some ruddy bigmouths in the corridor, they have no respect," Fred assured. George nodded in agreement.

Ron was in shock. "You've got to be kidding! You're sending these two to look after us ?" he said, flicking his thumb at his two older brothers. "Oh, fine-why not send Pig, and maybe a garden gnome or two to balance out the party? Then we'd have some real guidance aboard!" he said sarcastically, toning down to make his appeal. "Dad, Mum, it'd be better to send us on our own. Then we won't have to baby-sit them, too." Ron flinched as Fred kicked him in the leg from behind.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley almost seemed prepared to agree with Ron, but it was Mrs. Weasley who spoke. "Well, it will be better for a bigger group of you to go, anyway. You'll stay together at all times, and Fred and George know what there'll be to pay if there's any fooling about- don't you, boys?" Molly Weasley stared directly at the twins with a look withering enough to melt sheet metal.

"Now-Hermione, dear?" Mrs. Weasley said in a much sweeter voice, peering through the flames.

"Here I am, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said, moving to the front of the group.

"I'm sorry Lorraine couldn't go with you. She's such a lovely girl, and-well, now you'll be the only girl in the group. We've had the Portkey charmed so that you'll leave early in the morning and return in the evening, so there won't be rooming arrangements to worry about. We've explained what happened with Charlie and Lorraine to your parents, and they feel it will still be all right for you to go, if you wish," Mrs. Weasley explained gently.

"Of course, I'd still like to go," Hermione responded. "I'm sure I'll be fine."

"Just don't let any of those boys bother you, dear. And if they do, you let me-" Mrs. Weasley looked briefly at her husband, who appeared on the verge of rolling his eyes, "-us, know."

Ron moved up behind Hermione, looking over her shoulder. "Hermione stands up for herself just fine, Mum-believe me," Ron began convincingly. "But I-we- promise we'll make sure she's okay."

"All right, then. We'll get back to say goodbye right before you leave," Mrs. Weasley said. And with a pop, the two of them disappeared.

# # #

Hermione gasped and sat bolt upright in bed. Ron was in here somewhere. Peering around the darkened room, she could make out nothing except the closed drapes of her roommates' four-posters and the oddly-shaped pieces of moonlight making their way through the dormitory window to the floor. She'd been asleep, having a nightmare that she was desperately worried about failing her O.W.L.s, and that she was studying in the library, when she'd heard-

*Hermione?* It happened again.

Now she was awake enough to realize he wasn't actually here, just connecting with her telempathically. She enjoyed most of it when she was ready for it, but it was kind of weird to have Ron pop into her mind, especially when she was asleep. In fact, she wasn't aware until now that he could do that. Hermione found herself a little perturbed.

*Is that you, Ron?* She moaned at the same time, flopping back onto her pillow. A thought crossed her mind and she yanked the covers up around herself.

*Ron who? No, it's Gilderoy Lockhart, my love, coming to whisper sweet nothings into your dreams,* Ron singsonged in a sickeningly sugary voice.

*I don't think you're the least bit funny,* Hermione thought to him flatly.

Ron seemed to think it was somewhat amusing, and chuckled, but must have felt it best to move on quickly in his normal tone before he made her more annoyed. *Oh-by the way-I can't see anything. It's too dark. You don't have to be embarrassed.*

*This is what you came to tell me? I didn't even know you could do this. What do you want? *

*Hmmm. So cheerful when someone wakes you up unexpectedly. I'll have to keep that in mind,* Ron teased, knowing he was already on shaky ground. But teasing Hermione, even at the risk of making her mad, actually made him feel better, and more like himself, especially after what he'd just been through.

*Look, Ron. I'm not in the mood to play games in the middle of the night. I know all of you guys are all excited about the day after tomorrow, but if you can't sleep, just go- go-bother Harry. You found his mind once. Or better yet, go harass one of your brothers-heaven knows, they deserve it.* Hermione complained. She rolled over on her side, closed her eyes, and, pulling the covers up around her head, prepared to go back to sleep.

*No, it's not that. Actually, I was falling asleep. But shecame back. Only I don't know if she'll be coming again.*

Hermione's eyes flew open, even though there was no one to see. *She? The screamer?* It wasn't a flattering term, but between them it had come to describe the girl whose mind was haunted by the dementors.

*Yeah. She actually tried tonight-to-you know,* Ron thought sadly.

*She tried?* Hermione knew he was talking about the girl's suicide and from the tone of his thoughts, she could tell he was pretty upset. She attempted to think it gently. *Do you think she was-successful? Or could you tell?*

*I don't know. She was ready to jump from somewhere. Her pain was unbelievable-I guess that's why I could find her, or she found me, I don't know. She wanted to be done with herself so she wouldn't be forced to hurt someone else. I told her to stop-no one could make her hurt anyone. Then I told her to hold on-that I was going to get Dumbledore or someone and maybe find a way to help her. I memorized how to get to her telempathically. But even if I canfind my way to her mind now, I don't know where she is physically, to go stop her.* His thoughts paused in coming for a moment. *Sometimes I wonder about this telempathy thing-what good is it if I can't help anyone with it?*

Ron sounded as frustrated and helpless as he had with Ginny and the dementors.

Hermione's heart went out to the girl, whoever she was, whose life was so painful, she'd consider throwing it away. But even more heart-wrenching to Hermione at the moment was Ron, who'd try to save the world if he had to and if he could, and who, with his ability, might be forced to sit by and watch helplessly those he could not reach in time.

*So, did she just leave- or did you? Did you try to get to Dumbledore?*

*Yeah, but I couldn't get there in time. The dementors came and cut her off. I was afraid for her after-then I couldn't reach her again-maybe I was trying too hard. Remember? Like what happened with us?*

Suddenly, Hermione threw off the covers and got out of bed. She yanked on her dressing gown and headed for the door. *Meet me downstairs.*

*What? No, Hermione. You don't have to do that. I just wanted to feel normal for a minute. I'm okay now. Get some sleep.* He sounded a bit embarrassed now, even if he was feeling a little better.

*I don't care. You'd better be down there after waking me up.*

Three minutes later, Ron appeared next to the hearth in pajamas and a school robe he'd thrown over them. Probably couldn't find a dressing gown in that mess of a room in the dark,Hermione thought.

*Hey, I heard that!* Ron thought defensively.

*Okay, first, you have to break the connection with me,* Hermione's thoughts instructed, even though she hated ending the connection.

*Why? Now that we're here, what does it matter?* Ron thought, while he was yawning.

*Look, youwoke me up. Now you have to put up with me.*

The two of them moved to sit on the same sofa in front of the fire that they'd talked on in another very early morning meeting. Ron severed the connection as Hermione requested, but they both shivered from the cold, lonely feeling left behind when they had to part minds, and dealt with the longing to make the connection again that remained.

Hermione sat at one end of the sofa, aware that she'd made herself hold off on thinking how cute he looked until the connection was broken (he's not entitled to know everything! ). She studied him a moment as he stretched.

At first, Ron had looked confused as to why she made him come down to meet her, with his robe thrown on, and his hair sticking up almost as badly as Harry's always did. Noticing fleetingly that he smelled sort of minty, like mouthwash, she briefly wondered what he thought about her request for him to meet her here. Surely he didn't think...? But then, Ron was all guy. (Besides, she couldn't very well get too upset about it when she herself had used a mouth-freshening charm while waiting for him. Yet that was just good hygiene. Hmph.)

Apparently it had also occurred to Ron that the common room was empty. He'd been waiting for days for a chance to be alone with her, and despite having a very weird and saddening evening, thought it would be nice to feel veryclose to her. So that's where he sat.

Ron's hands in his lap, Hermione still found it most disconcerting that his leg, arm, and shoulder were all pressed against her side. The warmth and tingles they caused led her to believe nothing would get accomplished this way. At least, nothing having to do with her original plan.

"Maybe-you know, in case someone comes down- maybe you should move over a little," she suggested, resisting the urge not to say anything at all, but just enjoy it and see what happened.

"Why?" he said earnestly, searching her eyes and wondering if they were back to being just friends again somehow. He rested his hand on her knee as he turned to look at her.

She shivered involuntarily at his touch. Then she closed her eyes, forcing herself to say it. "Just-move down."

He frowned, but then a thought seemed to occur to him and a huge grin spread across his face. "Oh!"

Great-he knows exactly what he's doing to me,she thought, somewhat irritated that her senses would give her away like that.

"Why, Hermione?" he asked with mock innocence. "You sure?"

Hermione didn't answer, just flashed him a look that he knew not to argue with. He scooted to the middle of the sofa, and, while staying at her end, she turned her body to face him, curling her legs underneath her.

"Okay, what I was thinking is-you said you were trying too hard for your connection with the screamer, right? So, maybe if you can relax, you can find out what happened to her. But," she began speaking with a more serious tone now, "the only thing is-you might find good news, or it could be bad. Would it be worth it to try and find out?"

Ron looked serious now, too. "I don't know. I reckon it's worse notknowing."

"That's why I wanted us to come down. You can't be connected with me if you're connected with her-can you? Well, anyway, I didn't want you to be alone in case you find out...you know." She tried to read the expression on his face. He looked a lot more adult lately, somehow. "But it's up to you-completely."

It was quiet for a moment. "I'll find out sooner or later. Might as well be now, I guess."

"Okay, then. We'll try and get you to relax. Shake your legs, and let them fall as limp as you can. Then do the same with your arms. Just let them fall to the sofa," Hermione began.

Ron didn't comply immediately. "Wait a minute. What's this all about?" Ron asked suspiciously, before starting.

"I went to a relaxation techniques class once with my cousin. I remember what they taught us. I just never had time to go back."

"Yeah, that sounds like you," Ron noted. "Not relaxed enough about your schedule to find time to go to relaxation class."

"That doesn't mean I don't know what I'm doing," Hermione stated, a bit miffed.

"Okay, okay." Ron was ever so glad no one from the boys' dorm was here to witness it, but he went ahead and did as she told him. She led him through a few other exercises she knew, until his arms and legs were stretched out before and next to him, his head back, breathing deeply on the sofa with his eyes closed.

"Shouldn't I be relaxed by now?" Ron asked moments later, still sounding very tense.

"Well, if you just sit quietly for a few minutes and be patient," Hermione replied. Ron opened his mouth to say something else, but Hermione just shushed him.

This time, after a few minutes of silence, Ron's breathing became more even, and he did seem to be relaxing more. Hermione, relishing the chance to just gaze at him, was afraid he'd get self-conscious if he felt her staring, so she gave herself something to do. Reaching back, she began to smooth, one by one, each of the tiny ruffled sections of his fiery hair with her fingers, pulling them carefully and gently into place where they belonged.

Ron's face, eyes still closed, broke into a smile as she played with his hair. He made a throaty noise, trying to say something.

"Uh-uh. Don't talk," she instructed.

"But that feels...mmmm... don't stop," he requested, talking through his smile.

She felt the warmth of his hand again as it returned to rest on her leg, but she could also tell he was now relaxed, just by the weight of it. Hermione almost opened her mouth to protest the hand's arrival, yet she realized it would only undermine everything they had just done. She decided she could put up with it-only for now-and continued to fiddle with his hair.

Carefully studying his face, Hermione started to see a change in his expression after a short time. His eyebrows began to knit, then relax, the smile disappeared, and his breathing became more uneven. Fleeting expressions crossed his face with such speed she could not recognize them before they changed once more. She could tell he wasn't completely asleep, but was definitely focused on something within his mind- there was no doubt it was an unpleasant journey.

Finally, a small, relieved smile came to his face. Without opening his eyes or changing his inward focus, Ron said quietly and happily, "She's there, Hermione. She's still hurting, but she's alive." He knitted his brows again in apparent effort and went silent once more. The expressions crossing his face returned.

Abruptly opening his eyes and pulling his head up, Ron shook his head as if to clear it. It had really been no more than twenty minutes, but to him it had seemed like hours. He swung his gaze to Hermione, looking quite relieved, but still concerned.

"She made it this time. But you know what I don't get? She always asks mequestions. But if I ask about her, or where she is, the dementors move in and surround her. They can't seem to end the connection, but they keep her away until I can't hold on anymore." Ron appeared more tired than he was before, but he wasn't as upset now that he knew the girl had not ended it all.

Hermione looked into his eyes, and could tell he felt better, even if he still couldn't rush to save the suicidal girl from her problems. "I'm really glad for her, and for you, that things turned out...okay for now. You'll find her. I know you will. But at least maybe she can get by the next couple of days on her own so you can have your birthday celebration in peace," Hermione said hopefully. She really thought he deserved that for himself, too, and it was so hard to try and keep things normal these days. "Speaking of which, we'd better try and get some sleep tonight and lots tomorrow. I refuse to sleep through a trip to Ireland!"

# # #

"Stop your complaining. It was only a little bit off," Fred said. He walked over to the thorny wild gooseberry bush George had landed in, grabbed his twin by the arm, and pulled him out. In Fred's other hand was the grubby and faded orange fishing hat with giant white polka dots that was their Portkey to and from the Quidditch match.

Ron and Harry were getting up to dust themselves and their rucksacks off, having landed and fallen together a few feet away on sloped ground. Aside from Fred, Hermione had been the only other one of the group to transport unscathed, though her hair looked like it had been through a tornado.

George, wiping at a bleeding scratch on his ankle now he was out in the open, was still a bit testy. He walked to Fred and rudely grabbed the Portkey/hat, then smacked his twin on the arm with it. "I'll be the one to get us back, then!" he said, swinging his rucksack off of his shoulder to stuff the hat within.

Fred held up his hands in surrender. The twins were never angry with each other for more than a few seconds.

The early morning light, now quite bright just before sunrise, showed the group to be in a small clearing at the crest of a high hillside; the area was covered with low hills and occasional wide meadows. All the slopes were blanketed with pine and oak forest, except where an occasional gray-white granite boulder broke the random pattern of the thick green trees. To the northwest, there were more hills; to the southwest, a peek of what had to be the ocean.

Shading their eyes against the brilliance to the northwest, they saw the first golden rays of the sunrise pouring like honey into a huge valley below, filling it with the movement and color they had not seen in the morning half-light before. Though hidden by the low hills surrounding it, the flat meadow at the base of the valley held even the enormous size of the professional Quidditch stadium easily. The flying pennants of the teams, the stands floating in air, crowds building as the pre-game carnival began on the valley floor below- this was second only to the pageantry of the World Cup.

"I told you, Claudius (pant), the old goat just wanted someone (pant) to carry his gear (pant). As if he couldn't have (pant) charmed it to go with him (pant). Actin' like he wasn't strong enough to cast the spell (pant)..."

Suddenly, two heads appeared coming up from the crest on the stadium side, the panting voice apparently belonging to the heavier-set of the two wizards. As they looked up from the ground at the end of their laborious climb from below, they spied the group of five young people at the top.

"Hey there! Just got here, did you? Had to leave for a bit-" the one named Claudius seemed to have more breath to greet them, but then his head snapped toward his watch as he gasped, "Oh, no-look out!"

Hearing the slightest whoosh from behind them, Claudius' warning gave the Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione just enough time to jump aside as a new group of Quidditch fans arrived. A wizard family of four, dressed in the red on black colors of the Ballycastle Bats (the team Ron had told them was playing the Cannons today), appeared in precisely the space where the five friends had been standing.

"'Morning, Claudius. 'Morning, Tavish. Great day for a game, eh?" the man in the new group said.

"Elver Beeles! Right on time, as always! You gents from the M.M.S. certainly took care of the fog for us," the heavier-set wizard told the man. "It's been pretty bad the last couple o' days."

"Yes, so we heard. It's hard enough on the teams to play a match in the fog, but it's really tough on the league owners. Usually puts a dent in the ticket sales for the next game when the fans have spent a day lookin' at the underside of a cloud instead of a match," Beeles said. "Well-see you after the game!" He then collected his family and looked toward the path down the hill that was still lit by tiny, brightly colored floating lanterns all the way to the valley floor. But before walking away, his gaze focused very briefly on Harry.

In the earlier confusion, Claudius had not taken mental note of the three heads of red hair in the group that had previously arrived. He moved over to stand near all five of them.

"Oh-I've just noticed! You must be Arthur Weasley's group," Claudius said.

Tavish's ears perked up. "Ah, yes. We were told to watch for you-make sure everything went all right. And Mr. Harry Potter is traveling with you? Yes, I see that he is!"

Ron watched as Harry's cheeks went pink. He knew now that Harry hated this kind of recognition from complete strangers, and his friend still didn't deal with it very well. The double-take from Elver Beeles was a good example.

"Well, we've had instructions from both Arthur Weasley and Albus Dumbledore to make sure you get to your appointed places at the correct times, safely and securely," Tavish explained. "There'll be other watchwizards down below, too, just to make sure."

"But you're to have a good time, as well," Claudius added.

"It's a wonder they didn't assign us bodyguards," Ron sighed. He wondered if he'd ever be old enough for his parents to stop watching over him constantly. But, thinking about how his parents still were with Bill and Charlie, even at their ages, he realized it wasn't likely. Plus he knew Sirius really wouldcommit murder if anything happened to Harry; Dumbledore would be unable to stop him. Ron decided he might as well enjoy himself. "Well, let's get on with it then!"

"That man who was just here-I've seen him in the Daily Prophet," Fred commented to Claudius, indicating Mr. Beeles, the Ballycastle Bats fan. "He's from the M.M.S.? What does that stand for again?"

"Elver Beeles is from the Magical Meteorological Society. It's been only a couple of years they've been able to help us with the weather. Of course, they have to arrange it so that the Muggles don't get suspicious," Claudius explained. "So-you've been here before, or do you need some direction?"

"Looks like the only way to go is down, so I think we've got it," Ron said, anxious to get to the carnival below. He started off towards the first lantern at the head of the downward path, with Harry, Fred, and George at his heels.

"Actually, I had a few questions about the departure procedure," Hermione said, moving up to Claudius. "You see, this is really our first time with a Portkey on our own and..."

Ron and Harry were already about ten yards down the path before they heard Hermione's voice as she started in on questioning Claudius. They looked at one another, shaking their heads, but stopped to wait for her. Fred and George, having already passed them on the path, made hand signals to indicate they would be waiting at the bottom-then proceeded to cover their mouths in mock laughter and point back at their brother and his friend. As Ron turned to make sure Hermione didn't see, he aimed a very special hand gesture of his own in his brothers' direction.

Ron and Harry waited a short while as several other groups of fans arrived and passed them on the path down the hill. Ron kicked the rocks along the side of the trail, willing himself to be patient.

Ron looked up as he felt his best friend staring at him. "I know-don't say it."

Harry smirked at him quietly. "I didn't say a word."

"Yeah. Right. You didn't have to." Ron still felt the need to defend himself, though he wasn't sure what for. "But what if I hadn'tasked her to come?"

"Wasn't my invitation to make. How would you have felt if you hadn't asked her?" Harry countered. "Like you were... missing something perhaps?...Or someone ?" His smirk had become more of a teasing smile, in spite of himself.

It was beginning to occur to Ron that Harry might have some clue about him and Hermione. Hermione and he hadn't actually planned to keep their relationship a big secret or anything. It just seemed like a better idea to let it stay private until they figured out exactly what to do with it themselves. Harry had never brought the subject up quite so obviously before.

Ron's ears went red, and he started to look away in embarrassment. But he decided to be brave, and looked directly back at Harry. "Yeah, you're probably right," Ron said quietly. "But I wouldn't miss her questioning everyone about 'procedures'."

The two friends smiled knowingly at one another for a moment at the confession, Ron's blush creeping up his face again. Harry didn't push it farther, or rub it in. For that, Ron was grateful.

Ron turned to yell up the hill. "Hermione! We're leaving-see you here after the game, I reckon!"

"I'm coming!" she answered, finally picking up her rucksack from the ground and heading towards them.

"So is Christmas!" Ron replied in mock irritation.

Just as Hermione reached them, and they were about to set off, Ron froze as if something had struck him. He snapped his head around to look west into the still-murky forest behind him, with a strange, serious, attentive look on his face.

"What's the matter?" Hermione asked, facing Ron and looking up at him with concern.

"Shhh," Ron replied, still peering into the trees. He turned his head to a different angle, and appeared to be listening for something. The three of them stood frozen and silent for a few minutes to let him listen.

"Hmmm. I had a feeling...Nah-never mind. It was probably nothing," Ron said, dismissing it from the conversation, then looking as if he'd found an answer. "Oh, I know what that probably was now! That was just the blood rushing to my feet-from standing here so long!" Ron said teasingly to Hermione, looking down into her face and smiling. He leaned close to her side, grabbing and squeezing her hand momentarily.

Startled that Ron would do this in front of Harry, Hermione was a bit flustered. "Oh, just-be quiet!" she replied to his complaint.

"No. This is not a day to be quiet," Ron stated matter-of-factly. He then cupped his hands around his mouth and looked skyward. Flame red hair and bright orange team shirt flapping in the early morning breeze, Ron yelled at the top of his lungs, "GO CANNONS!" (as his two friends cringed) before he, Hermione, and Harry continued down the path toward the welcoming sounds of the carnival.

# # #

Valeria walked out of the little stone hut and looked around her. The fog was gone and the birds were beginning to chirp, heralding the arrival of the sun in the east. It will feel so good to see the sun, Valeria thought as she looked up at a cloudless sky, even though I can't imagine how the weather could change so drastically from one day to the next.

In spite of her horrible evening the night before last, she felt a bit refreshed and revived this morning. The despair and hopelessness that had almost caused her suicide had been replaced this morning with something of a sense of purpose. In fact, she felt so good, she was compelled to take a hike up the hill to the north just to see what was around her, since it would be her home for at least a while, anyway.

Valeria wandered toward the water well, feeling the playful little pre-dawn breeze on her cheeks. The day she arrived she'd found the well behind the cottage, throwing a rock to its depths to see if it still functioned. A splashing noise from the bottom confirmed it, so she'd bought two buckets and some rope in town, then made the necessary repairs herself.

She drew up a bucket of water and, cupping her hands, dipped them in to scoop out and throw some water over her face. Drawing another full bucket, she took it with her into the cottage, using it to fill her empty plastic soda bottle and prepare for her short hike up the hill.

From the supplies she'd bought in town, Valeria chose some bread, cheese, and an apple and packed them into her old school found herself humming a little. And just the other night, I didn't think I'd be using this food, she thought. I almost feel a little like myself today.

The more she tried not to dwell on the events of her abandoned suicide as she walked, the more her mind tried to sort it all out. Valeria surprised herself by feeling grateful to the Muertos, for she thought it must have been them who had physically pulled her away from the cliff, and away from her own destruction.

That night, I must have been out of my mind, far worse than ever before , Valeria thought. Never before have the Muertos felt so real, or have they seemed to live in my world instead of my mind. But it was they who took me back inside the cottage and forced me to lie still until I fell into asleep.

As she approached the crumbling guard turrets standing at the top of the hill behind the castle, she turned back to the valley behind her to get her bearings. There, past the castle below and off toward the ocean, lay her little stone hut. Valeria knew how to get back, so she decided to go on. She passed through the shallow valley between and proceeded to climb the taller peak behind that, which housed the castle.

It was nearing sunrise now and the eastern sky became bright as it filled with the glorious sunlight Valeria was so hungry for. Just as she came to the crest of the taller hill, she felt a short thrill of excitement to look over and see what was beyond. Rushing to the edge of a large boulder that gave her a clearer view below, she was awed at the sight of a huge and beautiful, green-carpeted valley, flat and oval-shaped at its floor, the stretch of green broken only by a few white granite outcroppings scattered about.

The first morning sunrays rushed in to illuminate the valley further, and inspired Valeria to think of a picture from one of her history books at school. She actually liked history better than many of her other subjects, because one could be so certain of history in an otherwise uncertain life.

Due to its proximity to the proud castle behind her, Valeria could imagine this valley as the place great jousting tournaments were once held hundreds of years earlier. She saw in her mind's eye the colored pennants waving in the breeze, the proud, strong, stallions in protective mail, knights in shining armor astride them.

Lost in her thoughts, a wave of dizziness hit her with nearly enough force to throw her off balance-the Muertos were coming. She quickly found a place to sit where she'd be safe from falling during the blackout, but she was unwilling to give up the beauty that lay before her. Valeria was determined to continue her fantasy until they forced her from consciousness completely-they weren't going to completely ruin her first good day in a long time.

Valeria recalled an old movie she saw once and remembered the tall knight in shining armor astride a palomino steed. He was the victor in the joust and was just entering the field after the competition; she imagined she could see him move onto the field. He removed his helmet to accept the fair princess' hand, revealing his dark auburn hair, and his sincere, yet winning smile. The Knight looked around at the stands filled with people, the applause and cheering for him coming up to reach her from the valley below. But that had been long ago.

Or was it?

Because as she sat staring down into the valley, trying to deal with the arrival of the Muertos, something strange happened to her-something that had never happened before. She closed her eyes as a sharp pain entered her head. The same blinding green light that had come screaming at her the day she had met Tom was blasting through her mind again. The pain increased to an almost skull-splitting crescendo, and then finally began to fade.

But as it did, she was aware that something was still with her, she was not left alone as it had always been before. Memories of the phrase "be my eyes, be my eyes" briefly flitted through her consciousness. As the pain and nausea passed, she gained enough strength to open her eyes and look down into the meadow once more. It was then that her sense of reason left her completely.

For there below, where there had just been a lovely, yet empty meadow of green grass and rock, now stood an enormous stadium. Though different than the jousting stadium she had just imagined, this was a stadium indeed, complete with flags and pennants, strange ten-story posts with huge golden hoops at the top, and floating stands filling with thousands of people dressed in long, flowing robes. On the floor of the meadow there appeared to be cubicles of some sort, much like a carnival she had seen once in Spain, but one hundred times its size. And it all seemed to be real-not imaginary this time. Noise from the crowd drifted upward toward her, and though fear gripped her middle at the sight of a crowd this large, she knew she'd be forced to join them.

Why hadn't she been able to see all of this before? And why would two of the Muertos come with her to consciousness, as if they were guarding or escorting her? It was all so very strange.

Then the realization came.

"Oh, dear God," she whispered to herself in stunned horror. "This is it. This is my mission."

# # #

"She's stopping," the deep, hissing voice said, looking out of the castle window toward the north.

"Just for a moment, Master," a high-pitched, whining voice explained, sounding somewhat fearful of what the other would say.

"Can she see? Is everything in place just as I told you?" the deeper voice demanded.

"Of course, My Lord. We countered the Muggle-Repelling Charm on the Quidditch stadium for her so well that she wantedto go there, and -we used your Sight Charm so she can see through the bewitchment as well as any normal witch could," the small, watery-eyed man, owner of the whining voice, explained while trying to wring his hands. (He didn't have much success with this since one hand was his own and the other was made of silver.)

"Pity we had to use a Muggle. It does complicate things so. But all the better to lure our heroic Mr. Potter," the tall, pallid owner of the deep, hissing voice noted. He turned his ghostly white face to the little man beside him, his red, slit-like eyes flashing. "Potter would be suspicious of anything too magical-he might suppose it to be mine-the work of Lord Voldemort. But a helpless little Muggle girl? It was so kind of Professor Fuentes-pity the man disappeared so mysteriously," Voldemort smiled wickedly at the thought. "After all, he not only sent the orb our way, but also informed us about our little accident with Miss Cruz so many years ago. It has taken a long time to train her, but I trust it will be worthwhile, Wormtail."

"Oh, yes, Master, once we have Harry Potter..." Wormtail simpered.

The master turned to the window once more. "Look! She's standing again. But she looks uncertain. You didsend someone with her to monitor her actions, did you not?" Voldemort questioned.

"Of course, My Lord! Several of the- dementors went with her, in her mind, of course. After the other night, we felt we needed some degree of control so she didn't just- do herself in," said Wormtail. The little man hesitated nervously each time he was forced to mention the dementors, or working with them.

"Good, good. It will only be a matter of time, then, though my patience will be tested with the wait. And the orb?" Voldemort asked.

"It's here, Master. Downstairs in the dungeon, ready to use at your will. Our connections in the M.M.S. have guaranteed it will work as well here as when we tested it in the Ukraine," Wormtail assured him.

"Fine, then. My supporters in Ukraine have managed to create a wonderfully devious illusion, haven't they?" As Voldemort spoke, a huge snake slithered around the corner of the doorframe and headed for the Dark Lord, it's gigantic body cutting wide swaths across the floor as it moved.

"Lucius Malfoy has only just returned home and he reports that all is going well, My Lord. The Death Eaters are providing such a convincing diversion, even the Ministry is relaxing somewhat. They believe you're stranded in the Carpathian Mountains behind their Magic-Inhibiting Spells until the winter snows melt. So they're not even sending any more Auror reinforcements." Wormtail smiled a crooked, evil little grin. "After all-the only thing they have to do is keep you there." Wormtail snorted a laugh with a breathy, gasping sound.

Suddenly, the absurdity of the Aurors casting spells to keep him in the mountains where he wasn'thit the Dark Lord, and he roared with a bone-chilling laugh. "Ha! Amateurs, all of them! But this is comforting news. Ahhh, Nagini, my pet."

Voldemort held his long, white, twitching fingers down to the snake, starting to hiss and spit in what was obviously an affectionate conversation in Parseltongue. The snake coiled around his arm and slowly slithered its way up to his shoulders.

"Oh, so you want to see her again, do you?" Voldemort asked, still using Parseltongue so that the snake could understand.

Nagini pulled herself up high enough so that her head was next to Voldemort's and she could see out the window. She swung her head a bit from side to side, apparently trying to focus on the girl that was some distance away. Voldemort took his wand from his robes and swirled it in front of the snake's face, muttering something under his breath.

"Better, my dear? I know. My patience will be tested, too, my sweet," Voldemort told Nagini. "But you know I have promised. She will be yours. As soon as she's lured Potter to us, we will be through with her, and she will be yours. We will do the Embodiment Spell as soon as you're ready after that. You'll have your own body to walk in the forest just as she is doing right now. And you'll look as lovely as you've always wished. Though you've always looked lovely to me. You've earned this, my pet."

Voldemort was struggling a bit to support Nagini's weight on his shoulders. "You must go now, Nagini. We will need all of our strength to get everything we deserve in the next few days."

Nagini complied, slowly sliding down the other side of Voldemort's body to the floor. He stood patiently to allow her the several minutes to do so.

"Wormtail," the Dark Lord began, turning to the little man, who seemed to be trying to shrink away without Voldemort noticing. "Wormtail, go now-tell them. Tell the dementors it will be soon. And make sure they do nothing to that orb!"

"But, my Lord, they are getting impatient. And they are veryhungry," Wormtail protested. "I just communicated with the leader yesterday. Perhaps this time you ought to do it with him, so he can know-" Wormtail was obviously terrified of the dementors, and of telling them Voldemort's bidding.

"Silence! I doubt if they'll even respect a leader soon, Wormtail. These are dementors who have left Azkaban over the years because they would not bow to any authority. Any, of course, except mine," Voldemort sneered. "But I have important matters to attend to now myself. I must do the meteorological calculations for the orb-I'll have only one chance to adjust the reflector. It will take a great deal of concentration for me to keep it aloft alone. You and the dementors must all do your parts exactly as planned, or the whole opportunity, and Harry Potter, will be lost."

"But, Master, I do not think they like taking orders from me," Wormtail whined again, his voice catching.

"Wormtail, you will do this. You will keep them at their posts, at their tasks, or else-" Voldemort paused to let his frightened little companion consider a moment. "Or else, you'll be their next meal. As you said yourself-they are getting very hungry."