A/N: Again, I do not take credit for the works of Lewis Caroll, Tim Burton, Queen JK Rowling, or Ted Dekker.

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Chapter 21

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Evil Wears Pink

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"Where are the Unpure Dreamers?" I asked.

"Locked up in an abandoned warehouse. They've still got the Trappers on, so they're harmless. I'm the only one with the keys," Fiddle slouched.

"Samuel's got more of them, of course," Matt said in a small voice. He had curled up into a ball on the couch, his bony frame pressing against the leather sofa with varying intensity. The young man ran his hands through his hair. He was lost in thought, his body was eager to succumb to sleep, but his mind vehemently protested.

"He's going to use the other realm as a supply base, oh, thank you, Jane," Papa said, taking the tea tray from my hands. "All sorts of tricks that haven't existed since the 1870s—Cure-all balms and salves, magic herbs, weapons of mass destruction—shall be much harder to sell in this present age. But if—and I do mean if—he should succeed, then he'll be the wealthiest, most powerful man in the realm."

"Magic indeed!" Fiddle frowned. "Considering how tolerant our society is at the moment, he won't die if he has a go."

"Would it react in the same way in our realm?" I recalled the Magician's Nephew whilst nibbling on a biscuit. "Maybe magic won't work here."

"One can hope…" Matt sipped at this tea. "Potions and magic itself are two entirely different things, though."

"I could find out," I offered. "I can bring something back like I had with the robes."

"Sounds like a reasonable plan," Matt nodded. "What'll you bring over?"

"A sort of disguise potion. I'll take it in front of you, and whatever happens happens."

"Sweet heaven, there's such a thing? And what if the Unpure Dreamers have the same capability?"

"It's a hard potion to brew, and has to be taken every few hours, but it is possible."

"Make haste," Papa said, putting his cup down. "Go, and we shall take care of things on this side."

I washed the blood from my hands and slipped back into the Cradle. I could hear the faint sound of Papa's car revving up outside.

Please, I thought. Bring him safely back.

Meanwhile, it was a slow morning at the cottage. There was no meeting to go to, and no homework to catch up on. Alice had gone to the Department of Mysteries, and I was, naturally, left at home to "keep myself safe."

I wasn't one to argue when I was clearly outnumbered—by Aurors, no less. So I stayed behind, tucked the Pertorqueo Potion safely in the pocket of my red robes, and tried desperately to get back to my own realm. No matter how much sleep I got, however, my spirit was firmly planted in this realm.

The next week, Alice brought me to Privet Drive. I dressed in the most respectable clothes I could find—something the Dursleys would approve of. I tugged at my red collar and adjusted my grey skirt before ringing the doorbell.

Petunia Dursley answered the door with a stern face that quickly twisted itself into a smile after she'd given me an appraising glance.

"Are you one of Dudley's schoolmates?" she smiled.

I smiled back. "Actually, Mrs Dursley, I'm looking for Harry Potter."

Her eyes went wide. "You aren't one of his lot are you?"

"Whatever should you mean Mrs Dursley?" I feigned an innocent sort of smile. She seemed to relax at my pretend ignorance.

"Very well," she sighed. "I'll get the boy."

"Thank you, Mrs Dursley," I said when she had half dragged Harry out to meet me. "I'll have him back by dinner." She muttered incoherently before slamming the door in our faces.

Harry and I walked in silence for a good mile before he finally said what was on his mind.

"Why are you here, Jane?"

I bit my lip. "I was just wondering how you were—"

"Don't lie to me," he frowned. "You can't have come for no reason. Did Dumbledore send you? Is he coming to get me?"

"Oh, Harry, I'm sorry, but Dumbledore didn't send me."

Harry's green eyes were filled with hurt. "Oh," he said softly. "Why are you here then?"

"I'm keeping you company…"

"But what about Voldemort?" Harry hissed. "What's he up to? He's out there, and we've got to do something."

"And what would you have us do? Storm the Malfor Manor and demand to see him? Do you realize how rash that would be?"

"At least we'll be doing something," he said, running his hand through his messy hair. "I saw him come back. I fought him that night. I saw him kill Cedric…I…I don't understand why Dumbledore hasn't come for me. Does he expect me to stay put at the Dursleys'? It's not fair."

"I don't know, Harry," I soothed. "But Dumbledore knows more than we could ever imagine. Besides, he's still got to convince everyone about Voldemort."

"What do you mean?"

I handed him a few Daily Prophet articles I'd cut out the night before. The first headline read The Boy Who Lies. I watched Harry's face burn with anger as he read through the article paint himself as an attention seeking boy who didn't deserve any credit. The others were clippings of snide comments directed towards Harry, making him out to be a loony.

"The Minister has been having a go at Dumbledore too. He's all pretense these days."

"People can't seriously believe this, can they? Of course Voldemort is back! Cedric is dead! What do they reckon? I killed him?"

"Erm…"

"You're kidding!"

"Harry…"

"You're JOKING!"

I kicked a rock on the pavement, avoiding his piercing eyes. "There's a lot we can't control, Harry, and not everyone's willing to believe in the truth."

"BUT—"

"I know," I cut him off, "And there's no use yelling over it, not here."

"So what's Dumbledore doing?"

"Recruiting. He's trying to convince everyone that Voldemort's back, but he's got his work cut out for him, I can tell you that much. He's been removed as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot—which is ridiculous, of course."

"And he expects me to just sit here?" Harry sulked. His glasses lay crooked on his nose, but he made no move to fix it. "He's out there, and he's up to something, Jane. But why is Voldemort staying hidden? Why hasn't he done anything yet?"

I pursed my lips, and forced myself into silence.

"It's just not like him."

"Yeah, because we know Voldemort well enough to tell."

Another month passed without incident. 'Moss' went to meetings, searched for Susan's Horn, tried to work out that enchanted compass while I—Jane—was 'locked up in the cottage for safety reasons.' At least, the latter was the story I told the others.

The night Harry had been attacked by Dementors, I was in an Order meeting, listening to Professor Snape relaying Voldemort's wishes.

"He's gained control of the Dementors. A mass breakout from Azkaban is in the horizon."

"And how do you suggest we act, Severus?" Dumbledore asked.

"It would be unwise to stop him. We must bide our time and—"

"And just let them all serve Voldemort?" Alice frowned. "These Death Eaters are horrifically loyal, Severus, are you quite sure it's worth the risk?"

"Dueling with them will only result in unnecessary casualties," Snape replied. "We must bide our time."

Sirius place a hand over Alice's before she could relax. The haunted look he'd acquired from Azkaban was slowly ebbing and replacing itself with a steady sort of love. Snape sneered openly at the gesture.

The meeting ended abruptly, and we filed out of the kitchen. I lingered in the gloomy hallway as Alice bid Sirius goodbye.

"That's Moss, Harry," I heard Ginny whisper from up the stairs. "No one really knows what she does, but we reckon she's a powerful witch—based on the look on Dad's face when we mention her, at least."

"We don't even know what she looks like," Fred frowned.

"Always wearing that cloak, she is," George yawned.

"Shhh," Hermione scolded. "She's right there."

"Ready to go?" I asked Alice as she emerged with Sirius in tow. "Goodbye Sirius."

"Goodbye, Moss," he winked.

September first arrived in a hurry, and in case you were wondering, Harry did not get expelled for the use of underaged magic. I expect the year to be much more troublesome, however, since I got sent a prefect badge along with my Hogwarts letter.

The Head Boy and Girl were droning on about our responsibilities as a prefect, and I instantly wished I wasn't appointed. On second thought, however, I was grateful. The reality of the Carrow twins' absence had punched me in the gut just this morning, and having more responsibilities would keep me from dwelling on the unpleasantly empty dormitory room for a while.

I stood next to Anthony Goldstein and Draco, suppressing a yawn. The prefect carriage was a bit cramped, with two prefects from each house from fifth year to seventh.

As soon as they'd finished, I slipped out to 'patrol the corridors.'

"Figured you'd be Ravenclaw's prefect, Kingsleigh," Draco's voice followed me out. "I've met your Uncle over the summer."

"And is he as pompous as he was when I lived with him?"

Draco grabbed my arm and forced me to turn around. He dropped his voice to a whisper. "This isn't a game, Jane. The Dark Lord's back, and if you've got some sense in that little head of yours, you'd—"

"I'd what? Cower in fear and kiss his feet? Ke killed both my parents, Draco, so don't you think for one second that I'd ever consider following my Uncle's footsteps."

"But your father followed him, even just for a while, he—"

"He is not me!" I said firmly. "And you are not yours."

Draco's eyes flickered. "I'm as good as."

"Draco…"

He shook his head. His hair was slicked back again, with far too much gel in it. He released my arm and wore his haughty mask. He gave me one last look before turning away.

I spent the trip at the end of the train, drowning out my own thoughts with the steady hum of the steam pistons churning and spinning the wheels into motion.

By the time the train screeched to a halt, the sky was dark and there was no moon to light the night. I changed before helping Anthony supervise the other students as they disembarked.

"Ready?" Anthony asked after everyone had gone. I nodded, and Cato hooted in his cage. We trudged to the platform and searched for a carriage to hop onto.

"Oh, look, they got horses to pull the carriages!" Sure enough, the creatures between the carriage shafts were completely fleshless, their black coats clinging to their skeletons, of which every bone was visible. Their heads were dragonish, and their pupil-less eyes white and staring. Wings sprouted from each wither - vast, black leathery wings that looked as though they ought to belong to giant bats. Standing still and quiet in the gathering gloom, the creatures looked eerie and sinister.

"Thestrals," Anthony said grimly. "I read about them for Care of Magical Creatures last year. Only people who have seen death can see them. They're classified as highly dangerous. Probably because they're thought to be omens of death."

"Oh," I frowned as I stepped into the carriage.

"Who'd you see?"

"A Durmstrang student last year, you remember?"

"Yeah, poor guy, but the Durmstrang bunch had said he was always up to no good, so I suppose they saw it coming."

Hogwarts Castle, loomed closer and closer. It looked much more crooked this year, the magic holding the castle up seemed to be overdoing itself. We stared at it—a towering mass of turrets, jet black against the dark sky, here and there a window blazing fiery bright above them.

"Do you think it's all true?" Anthony asked, shoving his longish blonde hair out of his eyes. "Do you reckon You-Know-Who's really back?"

I shrugged. "It depends why you're asking me. Are you asking for my opinion or for confirmation of your own?"

He smiled sheepishly. "A little of both. I think anyone who doesn't believe he's back is probably just afraid…But I dunno, I don't want it to be true either, you know?"

"Yeah," I replied as we got off the carriage. "But the truth is still the truth, regardless of what we might think of it."

The welcoming feast proved far less welcoming from the Sorting Hat's forbidding new song to the addition of Professor Umbridge to the staff table.

"Must be the Ministry's attempt at shutting Dumbledore up," Eddie had whispered, and I couldn't help but believe him.

"Come on," Anthony nudged me. "We've got to lead the first years up and out of here."

I was about to follow him out when Professor Flitwick pulled me aside.

"Is something wrong, professor?" I asked.

"No, nothing like that, Ms Kingsleigh. In fact, I have wonderful news!" the small professor handed me a letter with unconcealable glee.

"What's this?"

"It's an invitation to be an Unspeakable! Oh, it's been quite a while since a student received such an honor—they're normally called up on after they finish Hogwarts—and from Ravenclaw no less!"

"An Unspeakable? The ones who work at the Department of Mysteries?"

"Yes, of course, we hardly know what they work on, but it's an elite sort of prospect, Ms Kingsleigh, and it's only by invitation."

"Need I take more subjects to qualify, professor?"

"Not at all, Ms Kingsleigh, as long as you continue most of your current subjects onto the NEWT level, then I see no problem. Off you go, now, you've got prefect duties."

I hurried to help Anthony, who was nearly out the door with the first years. I flanked the bunch from behind and gave Anthony a thumbs up for support as he lead the group up the Ravenclaw Tower. We reached the common room in no time, and the crowd dispersed.

I decided to oil my wand in the common room just before bedtime, and did not expect much trouble. Luna had come to sit beside me, and we oiled our wands together in the firelight.

"I have Umbridge first thing tomorrow," Luna said in her dreamy voice. "I don't like her very much. She seems to think that she can control the entire student population by means of coughing."

"I'd like to see her try," I said dryly. "I don't have her until Tuesday. D'you mind telling me how it goes, Luna?"

"With pleasure," she smiled. "Hopefully she isn't much trouble."

Of course, that was a stupid thing to say. Luna was seething at dinner, and a full out war was being held at the Ravenclaw table.

"Of course he's lying, Potter couldn't have dueled with You-Know-Who…"

"He reckons he saw Diggory murdered…"

"Rubbish…"

Cho was besides herself in tears, and her 'friends' from the year before worked to put as much distance between herself and them.

"What's happened?" I asked Luna.

"That Umbridge woman isn't planning on teaching us magic anything! She's just here to spy on Dumbledore."

"Have you heard?" Anthony asked, roughly taking a seat across me. "Umbridge gave Harry detention all week for calling her out on her rubbish."

"She's not the one spouting rubbish," Maria snorted. "Potter's probably seeking attention again."

"You watch your mouth," Eddie glared before taking the seat to my right. "Hey, Jane. How's OWL year going?"

"Terribly! I've got a mountain of homework to get done. Have you had Umbridge yet?"

"Nah, I have her tomorrow," he sighed. "I don't know how I'll be learning any of the NEWT level defensive spells with that toad around."

"Watch it," Anthony warned. "She's right there."

Eddie cast a lazy glance at Umbridge, who was making her way to the staff table. "I've already got trouble with her, actually," he gave a sheepish grin. "I mouthed off at her in the hallway. Took a full ten points from Ravenclaw for that."

"What've you done with the real Eddie?" I brandished my wand, earning myself a shove from Eddie.

"Come on, she was giving a first year a hard time. Poor kid was adamantly claiming that You-Know-Who was back. Of course, he is, but it's best not to ruffle the pink flamingo's feathers."

"Keep your voice down, or you'll make Cho start crying again. Although, good on you. That pink flamingo needs to know her place."

"That's not fair," Anthony frowned. "You can't call her a pink flamingo. She isn't tall enough!"

We passed the hour making various quips and laughing before it was time to retreat to the common room.

"Hey, Jane," Eddie whispered before I went up to bed.

"Yeah?"

"When you're in Umbridge's class…Keep your head down, all right?"

"Says the guy who mouthed off."

It was much harder than expected, since Umbridge was keen on ignoring the presence of magic and Voldemort in her class. Whilst the other professors were apt on preparing us for our OWLs, Umbridge seemed to be undermining it.

"How are we supposed to cast the necessary defensive spells when exam time comes?" Anthony growled about two weeks later. "And how are we going to get through this year with so much homework?"

"You'll get through it," Eddie popped a chocolate frog in Anthony's mouth. "We could duel if you're really that worried about Umbridge's lack of teaching ability."

Anthony's face paled. "No thanks, mate. I'd like to keep my nose on."

Luna had fallen asleep on the couch, her Ancient Runes textbook lay open on her lap.

"I wish we could be better prepared for whatever's coming, though," I sighed. "I mean, what if Voldemort's jumps us while we're all at Hogwarts?"

Luna jerked awake at Voldemort's name, and the sleep fled from Anthony's eyes.

"You don't really think he'd jump us, do you?" Anthony asked in a low voice. Although the common room was empty, unwanted ears could have been listening.

"I don't know," I whispered. "But we don't know what he's doing either, so it's just as likely."

Apparently, we weren't the only ones with the idea. On the first weekend visit to Hogsmeade, after Umbridge had been made 'Hogwarts High Inquisitor,' all four of us snuck into the Hog's Head after Hermione tipped us off and signed ourselves up for Dumbledore's Army, as it was so named a few weeks later—when it had been made entirely illegal, might I add.

"Jane! Jane!" Harry called out.

"What is it?" I asked, my mouth still filled with toast and marmalade.

"Fancy a walk after breakfast?" he had a letter in his hand, and was beaming.

"Sure," I took a gulp of orange juice and sprang up to follow Harry out of the castle. The rain was pouring, but Harry was not stopping. "What's up?"

"Sirius and Alice," he laughed. "It's finally happened!"

"Finally, some good news!" I smiled despite myself. "When?"

"Christmas," he smiled, the rain drenching us both.

I clasped Harry's hand. "We'll be cousins soon—well sort off—by law—oh, you get the point."

"Yeah," Harry's eyes were filled with happiness. "Yeah, suppose we will! There's another thing I called you out for, though."

"Yeah?"

"Dobby came to see me tonight. Heard of the Come and Go room?"

"Have I ever! Does it really exist?"

"We're meeting there for you-know-what tonight. Get the others to come, alright?"

"Sure, Harry, Godspeed, alright?"

"You too."

We all met at the Room of Requirement on the seventh floor that evening, and did so for the next week after than, and the next, and the next, although the schedule was rather erratic.

"We've got to find a better way of communicating," Hermione mentioned as we studied in the library. "Like, you know, the Death Eaters have got scars."

"I doubt anyone would allow us to tattoo scars on for the DA," Luna shrugged.

"Well, I've got an idea for it…" I fished for a galleon inside my pocket. "You see the numerals around the edge of the coins?" The coin gleamed fat and yellow in the light from the torches. "On real Galleons that's just a serial number referring to the goblin who cast the coin. What if we could make fake coins, so the numbers will change to reflect the time and date of the next meeting?"

"Brilliant!" Hermione smiled. "The coins will grow hot when the date changes, so if you're carrying them in a pocket you'll be able to feel them. We take one each, and when Harry sets the date of the next meeting he'll change the numbers on his coin, and we could even put a Protean Charm on them, they'll all change to mimic his."

By the fourth meeting, Hermione was giving all these out, and just like that, we had our schedule sorted.

"But, professor," I asked indignantly, my hand still in the air. "What do you mean we're only allowed offensive spells if we encounter something like a half-breed? Are you insinuating that even when they haven't attacked us they're somehow dangerous?!"

"Exactly, Ms Kingsleigh, they are dangerous, just like your old Professor Lupin—"

"Professor Lupin was the single greatest teacher we've ever had for this subject! And he is not dangerous!"

"Hum, hum," Umbridge coughed. "Detention, Ms Kingsleigh. Tonight. For opposing me in my own classroom."

Anthony shot me a nervous look, but I just slouched back into my chair.

When I arrived in her office that evening, Professor Umbridge had me doing lines that said "I must keep my bloody mouth shut in the flamingo lady's class." Well, okay, it didn't say that, but it might as well have. She had me write "I must not oppose the High Inquisitor" with her 'special quill.'

I let out a gasp of pain as I wrote the words. They had appeared on the parchment in what appeared to be shining red ink—blood. At the same time, the words had appeared on the back of my right hand, cut into my skin as though traced there by the quill itself—yet even as I stared at the shining cut, the skin healed over again, leaving the place where it had been slightly redder than before but quite smooth.

I grit my teeth and went on with the exercise, ignoring the satisfied grin on the flamingo woman's face. For the first time in my life, I regretted being so swift with the quill. After filling a few feet of parchment, Umbridge made that infuriating sound that insulted every dainty cough that ever existed.

"May I see your hand, Ms Kingsleigh?"

"Sure," I said, raising my right hand for her to inspect. She pressed her stubby fingers into my skin, causing the blood to ooze out.

"That will do. Off you go, Kingsleigh."

I learned to keep my head down after that incident, instead, gritting my teeth or digging my nails into my palms when I felt angry.

As swiftly as the Firebolt was, December had arrived, and with it, the last DA meeting of the year. In between that, of course, had been homework, prefect duties, quidditch—although Luna and I vowed not to support any team after Umbridge placed a lifelong ban on Harry, Fred and George's heads for pummeling Malfoy—and the Black-Kingsleigh wedding preparations.

Of all the strange things that the Daily Prophet had been publishing, this was by far the worst.

"The Wedding of the Century?!" Hermione exclaimed after DA training. "That's what it says!"

"You should see Witch Weekly," Parvati frowned. "They're practically stalking your cousin, Jane."

"Dear God," I groaned. "Voldemort's back and all Witch Weekly cares about is what sort of dress my cousin will be wearing for the wedding?"

"They're also keen to know all about the guest list and the food being served," Luna quipped.

"And I'll have to deal with this over Christmas."

"At least it's the end of term," Luna consoled.

"And a wedding's bound to be loads of fun," Parvati giggled. "You might even meet someone special there."

I rolled my eyes. "Sure, special."

"Come on, Jane, just because Malfoy didn't turn out to be—"

"Malfoy was nothing," I cut her off. "Anyway, I'll see you all later. My bed is soft and warm and welcoming, and all that…"

I slipped out of the Room of Requirement and started straight to bed, but right when I'd fallen asleep, I felt someone grab my hand.

"Wassappened?"

"Moss, get up," my eyes flew open and landed on Professor McGonagall's. "Arthur Weasley's been attacked, Jane, Potter and the Weasleys arrived in London last night. You and I will be leaving for Norfolk tonight. I expect Alice will want some company while Sirius is back in London."

"Alright…"

"We leave via Hogsmeade straight after dinner. Have your trunk packed by then."

"Yes, Professor."

We left for Norfolk that evening. Luna came with us—simply because she'd been invited to the wedding anyway, and her father had just been inducted into the Order. In short, she was in the clear.

"Is there even going to be a wedding, Professor?" I asked as we settled in on the Muggle train.

"If there isn't one, the Ministry might as well probe our homes. The most clever thing to do at the moment is to come up with a distraction. Fortunately," Professor McGonagall took a bar of chocolate out of her purse and handed us a piece each before continuing, "a wedding is the perfect way to go about it."

If it was a distraction the Order needed, then a distraction they'd get.

After all, this was Jane Kingsleigh they were messing with.