A/N: I think I got emotionally attached to a new character in this chapter. Damn my imagination! Hope things are getting interesting for you all, and thanks a lot for reading.


'…If I've told them once I've told them a thousand times. The only way to do this is through proactive policing. Dawn raids every day! Then he couldn't wriggle out of it!'

Molly shook her hands free of the soap suds and looked over to her husband. 'This is Lucius Malfoy you're going after, not his house-elf.'

'Ah, but his house-elf's my secret weapon!' Arthur clicked his fingers dramatically. 'I told you, did I? About Dobby's conversion to good?'

'Yes, you told me,' she answered quietly.

'So don't you see? He can't stay hidden forever.'

'Oh, Arthur! Do you seriously think the Ministry's going to sanction daily raids on the house of one of their biggest benefactors? I'm surprised they raided him at all.'

For a moment he looked defeated and a small wave of guilt ran through her but then he shook his head. 'No, they want a decent society. Fudge does.'

How Minerva scorned that, she had said so! Molly quickly turned her mind away from the Professor, for the twentieth time that day. 'You know him better than I do, dear,' she said indifferently, plunging her hands back into the washing-up bowl.

When she looked up she found him staring. 'I don't understand why you distrust him, he's the Minister. As far as I'm aware, we're on the same side.'

'Yes, for now. But when everything explodes I know I want to be on the side of Dumbledore.'

'There won't be a split, Molly.'

She thought again of Minerva's confidence. 'If you say so.'

He checked his watch. 'I better get back to work. Won't be home till late, I expect. Don't wait up.'


Well, it was pretty obvious to Ginny that she'd been stood up. Hermione had pushed her into a hole at the very top of the castle with the idea of leaving her there to rot. Okay, she knew she was being overdramatic but she was irritated. After all, she'd done what she never wanted to- admitted the truth to Hermione under the seemingly false notion they were going to talk about it, work through it. How wrong could you get?'

The footsteps reverberated in the corridor behind her. Shuffling along the cushioned viewing seat to make enough space for Hermione not to protest Ginny held her breath until the third year came round the corner. 'Hi.'

Sitting beside her, Hermione passed over a bottle of something and opened her own. It's Butterbeer, McGonagall thinks we'll like it.'

'You went to see McGonagall?' asked Ginny dubiously.

'Mmm-hmm. She said some interesting things.'

'Oh, right.' What else was she supposed to say?'

'Why don't you have a drink?' said Hermione indicating the bottle and Ginny reluctantly opened it. She was wary of anything McGonagall might enjoy, recognising it probably wouldn't be her style. But taking a small gulp she was pleasantly surprised.

'This is really nice!'

Hermione grinned. 'I was a little apprehensive too.'

They drank in silence, Ginny occasionally glancing sideways but never finding any eyes on her. If possible, she was slightly more confused than when she thought she had been stood up- at least then she knew where she was. 'What did McGonagall say?'

The bushy-haired third-year looked towards her. 'She said to do what's right. I mean, I knew I had to do that anyway but it was a nice refresher course. Can I ask you something?'

Ginny shrugged her assent and downed the remainder of her Butterbeer.

'What makes you think you… like me?' She stumbled over the last couple of words and grimaced. 'Sorry, I'm supposed to be trying supportive. It's not working.'

'I don't know.' A smile flickered over Ginny's face. 'Everytime I see you I get this… lift. Like I know where I'm going.'

'So you're thinking you're lost?'

'You have to try and make it simple don't you?'

Hermione shrugged apologetically. 'Sorry, it's what I do.' A long pause ensued. 'Have you ever heard the tale of Elizabeth?'

Ginny frowned. 'Elizabeth who?'

'It's a Wizard myth, you must've heard of it.'

'No. Did you read about it in some dusty book?'

'Are you mocking me?' There was a sweet glint in Hermione's eyes.

'Would I dare?' Her small grin fading, Ginny said, 'Are you going to leave me in suspense?'

The third-year considered this while she finished her drink. Then she answered, 'The tale goes that Elizabeth existed around the same time as the founders of the school, she's supposed to be ten or eleven years old when it all started. Anyway, Elizabeth was an unhappy child, she was pulled in all directions by her family who had slightly differing views. See, she had an Uncle on her father's side and an Aunt on her mother's who didn't get on.'

The Uncle Ginny could hazard a guess at. 'Slytherin.'

'Yep.' Hermione nodded, obviously pleased she was getting it. 'And the mother's sister was Rowena Ravenclaw. When Elizabeth tried to find out what made her so unhappy, she discovered it was two things. One, she didn't know where she was going or what she was supposed to be doing and, two, she hated her family arguing amongst themselves all the time. She went to Rowena Ravenclaw about it and, Rowena, being the intelligent founder, of course, worked out that what Elizabeth feeling was universal in young wizards and witches. They were all cloaked and forced to marry among themselves; that limited the supply a bit, as you can imagine. Rowena also thought that the lack of real purpose in children's lives was a problem. She asked Elizabeth what she thought would help. You know what Elizabeth said?'

Ginny was getting the hang of this. 'A school.'

'Yep, precisely. Rowena was in favour immensely but it was too big a task for one person. The richest and most resourceful person she knew was Salazar Slytherin so for the sake of her niece she approached him and, to her surprise, he agreed without hesitation. They decided to invite two friends into the fold, and you know the rest.'

'But…' Ginny was struggling to connect the dots. 'How does that relate to me?'

Hermione smiled. 'What Elizabeth thought she wanted was a school, Rowena went to a lot of trouble to get her one. But that wasn't her true desire, the other bit was.'

Now she truly was lost. 'What other bit?'

'Elizabeth was unhappy at being a cloaked witch and having to marry her cousin or something in the future. Don't you see? Elizabeth was the first pureblood to marry outside the Wizarding race. She made Uncle Salazar terribly happy with that.'

'I bet,' Ginny grinned faintly. 'So you think that, what? I'm in the process of wanting a school but it's probably something else?'

'In a manner of speaking, yes.'

'Well, I think you're wrong,' she replied flatly.

It was a challenge, Hermione raised an eyebrow. 'Oh?'

Ginny took the chance to string out her part of proceedings, putting the empty bottle she was holding down on the floor at her feet. 'Did you think I might be at stage two already?'

'Stage two? You mean the stage of true desire?'

'Yeah, that. And before you ask, there was a stage one. Harry, remember.'

'I hardly think he counts.'

'You can't change the rules now.'

'I'm not!' Hermione squeaked, raising her tone into ultrasound.

Ginny winced and leaned back against the warm wood at her shoulders. She stared straight ahead, determined not to look at Hermione while she said this. 'I thought I wanted Harry so badly. He was my idol, everybody's I guess. It was just a crush, I needed someone to look up to who didn't have red hair.' When there was no reply she didn't glance sideways, just continued. 'There're two types of people. I think so anyway. You're the logic kind, nothing's real unless you can see it, right?'

'I believe things when I see them, yes.'

'And nothing can exist unless you see it plainly?'

'That's exaggerating a bit. But it's the basis.' Hermione twisted to look at her. 'Go on.'

It would've been pleasant to have a notion of where she was going before she had started. 'So are wizards real to you? I mean, you couldn't see them clearly all the time, could you?'

'Yes, but I can now.'

Ginny nodded, finally looking at Hermione inches away, her cheeks soft with a glow unrecognised. 'Yeah, you do now.'

'Ginny…' The third-year stopped, cleared her throat, but didn't tear her gaze. 'I don't feel like that, I'm sorry.'

'You didn't know you were a witch before, did you?'

'Yes, but I really don't.'

It was difficult to hide the pain she felt at those words. 'Standing abruptly she knocked the empty bottle clattering against the wall with her feet. 'I've got to go.'

She'd squeezed past Hermione and was metres down the corridor before a small voice added, 'I've got an Arithmancy test next week. I wondered if you could run me through my stuff, maybe after dinner? In the library or something.'

Her hopes rekindled, Ginny turned. 'I don't know anything about Arithmancy.'

'You can read from the book,' answered Hermione, holding her gaze.

'Alright, I'll give it a try.'

Walking off down the corridor Ginny was conscious of two things. One, Hermione wanted to spend time with her; two, Hermione was probably watching her at that second and, three, her friend seemed to have forgotten about the vanishing door to her secret room. That was a bonus she hadn't anticipated.


The gap between Minerva noticing the owl perched on the windowsill and her recognition of the handwriting on the scroll attached to it was almost non-existent. Of course, she restrained herself from rushing but she was there within seconds nevertheless. It was only after she removed the parchment from the out-stretched spindly leg that she realised she might not want to read what was written on it. At the moment she was confused- yes, she would admit it to herself- about Molly's apparent change of heart regarding their friendship. Reading this letter could clarify matters, but not in the way Minerva hoped. Still, it had to be done.

All that was written was:

May I visit you tonight? M