((A.N. Chapter 25, finally here. Hm... not really very Draco/Hermione-ish, but oh well, there's always next chapter right? Hope you guys enjoy!))

PART III: SOMEWHERE IN BETWEEN

Maybe redemption has stories to tell

Maybe forgiveness is right where you fell

Where can you run to escape from yourself?

Salvation is here . . .

--Switchfoot

Chapter 25; Germans and Ginny

"Ladies and gentlemen," came Dumbledore's booming voice the next morning. "I am pleased and excited to announce that we will be holding a Farewell Ball tomorrow night in order to bid our Ambassadors farewell. Fourth through seventh years are all invited, and the thirteen Ambassadors will be our guests of honor."

There was a cheer from the students, and the hall dissolved into chatter.

"'Ogwarts," Fleur told Michael lightly, "what a quaint place to 'ave a ball!"

"Attire is formal," Dumbledore continued once they had quieted somewhat. "And the Ambassadors will open the Ball with a waltz."

Some of the girls glared enviously at Hermione and Ginny.

"Zey really should have included dance skill in za requirements," Ivan said to Hilda, shaking his head. He, like Harry, was not a skilled dancer.

Dumbledore took a seat in his usual chair.

Sighing, he wondered if the Ball would be enough to divert the students from their scheming. With the Malfoy boy involved, he highly doubted it, but it was the best he could do for now.

Tomorrow night would be interesting, to say the least. Dumbledore would have to be ready.

Ginny rushed down the stairs of the girl's dormitory, a million worries flashing through her mind. She finished buttoning her cardigan haphazardly and smoothed her hair. She'd made it halfway to the portrait hole when a voice halted her in her tracks.

"Wait, Gin."

There was only one person who called her Gin. She closed her eyes. He was the very last person she wanted to deal with.

Ginny turned around slowly to find Harry looking at her, a small smile on his face.

"Sit down for a second."

"I'd love to, Harry, but I've got to see McGonagall and after that I'm supposed to–"

"I don't care," Harry cut her off, his voice gentle. "Just talk to me for a minute."

Ginny quelled her bubbling frustration at him and took a seat on the couch stiffly. For some reason she didn't want to look into his eyes, so she fixed her gaze on the fireplace.

The couch was too small, and their knees were bumping.

"What have you been up to?" Harry asked her casually.

Oh, great. Now he wanted to have a perfectly unremarkable conversation with her. He wanted to pretend that the tension between them wasn't like an electric wire on the verge of snapping.

Harry was too close . . . why was he so close? She turned to face him so she didn't have to practically lean against him.

"It's . . . I'm fine. How about you, Harry?" she said as lightly as possible.

Harry paused. "It's been the usual for me. Trying to figure out how to defeat the murderer of my parents, avoid the paparazzi, and maintain a social life all at the same time." There was no mirth in his smile, and he didn't miss Ginny's flinch.

There were a few moments of strained silence. No longer able to bear it, Ginny spoke.

"Have you heard about Charlie's latest girlfriend?" she said quickly, trying for lightness and failing. "It's quite funny, actually. You know how Charlie is, and, well, he's got this perfectly prim and proper girlfriend! Let me tell you about–"

"Hey Gin?"

"What?"

"Shut up," he said in an amused tone, smiling softly.

She did.

After a few moments Harry offered, "That's much better. Now I have reason to believe that you've been avoiding your brother."

"Ron's avoiding everyone," Ginny said with a frown. "There's something wrong with him."

"Then you've been avoiding me," said Harry coolly, trying and failing to catch her gaze.

Why did he have to watch her so closely?

Ginny took a deep breath. "I've been really busy, Harry . . . I'm sorry, it's just that I have a boyfriend right now and . . ."

She trailed off. That sounded awful even to her own ears.

"That doesn't matter," Harry said softly, looking at his hands. "You try to act like just because you have a boyfriend you can't talk to me." His face creased into a frown. "I'm not trying to come onto you, Gin," he told her, spreading his hands wide. "Your boyfriend is just a flimsy excuse not to talk to me and you know that just as well as I do."

There was enough truth in what he said for it to sting. Suddenly she wanted to hurt him. Maybe she had to; it was hard to tell at that point.

"I know you're used to girls falling at your feet," Ginny said sharply, "and I know it's hard for you to understand that I like my boyfriend, but I do. A lot. You're acting arrogant and self-centered."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"That's a little harsh, Gin."

Anger, she could have dealt with. This cool, calculating demeanor of his unnerved her. But when she thought back, she realized that he had never once gotten angry at her.

"I know," she said after a minute. "Sorry."

"I'm not upset," Harry said with a smile. He reached out and tucked a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. She would have taken it as something romantic, but the gesture had been so matter of fact that it seemed only friendly.

"It was nice talking to you," he said easily. "Maybe we can do it again sometime in the next few months."

She laughed genuinely at that joke, but stood up quickly.

"I'll see you around, Harry," she said softly, and turned around before he could see the remorse on her face.

Harry stared after her. Finally, he got up and left.

FACT: "Here lies the once and future King." This was the message inscribed on King Arthur's grave. Many people take this to mean that King Arthur will someday have a descendent or successor who will reunite Britain.

"Voldemort is looking for Mordred's sword," Lupin told Dumbledore, pacing nervously in the Headmaster's study.

"And the sword is buried at Stonehenge, you say," Dumbledore repeated.

Lupin nodded, and stopped pacing for a moment. "Now only one question remains. How do we get the sword from Stonehenge? And why has no one ever found Slytherin's body?"

"Two equally confounding questions," Dumbledore answered softly, "but I have been doing some research myself."

The old man smiled mischievously from behind the safe cover of his half-moon glasses.

"Oh?" Lupin asked, sounding grateful.

"Obviously you're familiar with the tale of The Sword and the Stone."

"Of course. Excalibur was lodged into a stone, and it was riddled that only the future King of Britain would be able to lift it from the stone. Young King Arthur did so, and hence was crowned King."

"Exactly," said Dumbledore, absentmindedly tidying his desk, "and I have reason to believe that Mordred's sword had quite the same enchantment placed on it at the time of his death."

"What?" Lupin asked immediately. "You're saying that only the future King of Britain could remove the sword from Stonehenge?"

"The bane of the Once and Future King," Dumbledore repeated. "That was what the centaur said in the prophecy. Obviously King Arthur plays a much larger part in this than we have believed."

"Albus," said Lupin shortly, "you have the vexing and unbreakable habit of speaking in riddles. What is your point?"

"Mordred conceived a daughter, you know," Dumbledore told Lupin amiably, "before he died."

"And?"

"And I want you to piece it together for yourself, Remus. Mordred is Slytherin. Mordred had an heir. Mordred left the sword at his burial site. Mordred obviously wanted someone . . . but not just anyone, to wield the sword."

"Oh, no," Lupin said, catching Dumbledore's drift.

"I'm afraid so."

"An heir," Lupin repeated soundly. "There is an heir of Mordred's lying around somewhere, isn't there? And the heir is the only one who can pull Mordred's sword from the stone. It's like King Arthur all over again, except all twisted up."

"Our situation has striking parallels to that of the tale of King Arthur."

"But the heir!" Lupin cried. "Who is the heir? Who is descended from Mordred? From Slytherin?"

"Voldemort," Dumbledore said at once.

"But if Voldemort himself is the heir," Lupin mused confusedly, "then why hasn't he gone to Stonehenge and removed the sword?"

"That is the only reason I have rejected Voldemort as the heir that Mordred spoke of. If he was the heir, he would have long ago removed the sword. You must also remember, Remus, that the heir of Mordred is also the heir of King Arthur."

"So who else could it be?"

"Harry Potter."

"What?"

"You can't tell me you honestly don't see obvious parallels between Harry and Arthur. The Once and Future King, Remus. Do you know how many prophecies have been written about the boy? Harry is destined to be King. My theory is that Voldemort will try to lure Harry to Stonehenge, in order to make him remove the sword. Once Harry has removed the sword, Voldemort will seize it and gain almost unimaginable power."

"Voldemort must think Harry is King Arthur reborn," Lupin said faintly.

"Indeed, I believe he does," Dumbledore replied.

"Well, what are we going to do?"

"We're going to wait, Remus, because I've got one more revelation up my sleeve that will ruin every single one of Voldemort's plans."

"It will?"

"That, or it will ensure their success so completely that there is absolutely nothing we can do."

Sometimes he hated Dumbledore.

Harry traipsed slowly up to his dormitory. All of the free time they had been given lately on account of the Ambassadors had been nice, of course.

It had also given him time to think. This was far from a good thing.

It had given him time to think about why Ginny hated him. It had given him time to think about Draco and Hermione. It had given him time to think about Voldemort, and fighting, and the final battle.

Thinking was a dangerous thing for Harry. More often than not it made him sick to his stomach.

He paused with his hand on the doorknob. It seemed that Hermione was never around anymore. Despite her promise to remain friends with him, he saw the way her brown eyes searched only for Draco when she entered the Great Hall, and the way she nodded absently as he talked to her, as if only half listening.

She didn't mean to pay less attention to him. He knew that with more certainty than anything else. This knowledge only made him feel worse.

When he opened the door, he strode over to his four poster bed and paused. At first the room had seemed empty; on closer inspection, Ron Weasley sat curled up on his bunk. His expression was sullen. He seemed, in fact, to look right through Harry.

"Ron?" he asked tentatively.

The boy started, as if he had just noticed Harry. "Oh. Hello, Harry," he said stiffly.

Harry sat down on his own bunk and regarded Ron carefully. He had been acting strange. "Your sister won't talk to me," Harry told Ron blankly. "I think she hates me."

Ron shrugged slightly and took a moment before answering. "Don't ask me. I don't get her. She's been acting odd lately, you know?"

Harry frowned. "She said exactly the same thing about you."

He couldn't see Ron's expression in the dodgy light filtering through the curtains.

"I've been thinking," Harry continued, "about Voldemort, you know, and facing him. I don't feel right about it. I feel like there's something I don't know . . . it's just a feeling, but I don't think I'm prepared."

Harry noticed that Ron's body had tensed. "Oh," the red-haired said simply.

"I'm just starting to wonder if . . ."

"Harry," Ron interrupted softly, "I'm not the best person to talk to about this. I know next to nothing about . . . you know . . ."

Harry froze in mid-movement. "What?"

"I mean . . ." Ron wouldn't meet Harry's eyes as he spoke, "I can't handle thinking about death and You-Know-Who and fighting like you can. You're not going to get any good advice from me."

The emerald-eyed boy was silent for almost a full minute before he spoke. When he did, he had a hard time keeping the hurt and confusion out of his voice. "Ron, you're my best mate . . . who else would I talk to?"

"Hermione," Ron said at once. "She's much cleverer than me . . . she'd be able to help you."

"I . . ." the words caught in Harry's throat. "I don't want to talk to Hermione. What's wrong with you, Ron? Sometimes there are things you can understand better than Hermione. Sometimes I can't talk to her like I can with you."

Besides, Harry thought, all I want you to do is listen.

Ron shifted off of the bed and stood up. "I just remembered that I have detention with Filch. I'll talk to you later, Harry."

Harry didn't even bother saying goodbye. He sat shock still on his bed. This had never happened before. His friends had always been right there behind him in the battle with Voldemort. Now it seemed like no one wanted to talk to him about it or anything else.

He shivered in the half darkness and let out a slow, concentrated breath.

Ernie mused that the Ambassadors were doing quite well at adapting to Hogwarts. Yes, some of them had fallen off of the trick staircases, and others had almost gotten smacked by the Whomping Willow, but ultimately they were unharmed. That was the important thing.

A conversation he had overheard recently disturbed him. Ivan and Hilda had been loitering in an empty corridor, their voices suspiciously low. Ernie had been walking to the Hufflepuff common room. He had ducked around a corner, curious about their motives in relation to the murder.

"Vhat did za mafia tell you?" Hilda had asked Ivan.

"They told me that za German spy is one of za Ambassadors, how many times have I told you?" Ivan questioned angrily. "You are supposed to be helping me out!"

"I gave you my suspects," Hilda persisted. "Draco and Jaime. Jaime's French pride is just an act, I tell you!"

"You thought it vas Myra, and look where we are now!" Ivan hissed angrily.

"I'm confused . . ." Hilda started.

Ernie's face paled and he walked away quickly at that point. From what he had heard, there was some kind of German spy amongst the Ambassadors. Ivan and Hilda were looking for this person at the orders of some 'mafia.'

Everyone is so sure it's Krum! Ernie thought wildly. Krum had even been taken into custody for questioning. But it seemed that those two were mixed up with the Bulgarian Mafia.

They had to be the murderers. Were they perhaps trying to kill the spy? From what Ernie had heard, it seemed that hadn't done it yet. But who was the spy?

It supplied every answer to the crime. The suspects, the alibis, and the motive.

The Ball was tomorrow night, and he decided to bide his time until the Ambassadors left. It would be easier to turn them into Dumbledore while they were all on the train the following morning, trapped in one place. He would tell Dumbledore after the ball, and when the Bulgarians arrived home, they would be intercepted immediately by government officials. It was easier this way. Less dangerous.

Besides, it wasn't as if they were going to try anything with the heightened security measures at Hogwarts.

Ernie would soon realize that he had too much faith in Hogwarts.

((A.N. Next chapter: Finally a mention of Draco and Hermione, I seem to have ignored them this time around... review please! ))