. . . the common misconception indicating that such mental disciplines yield dramatic advantages to the practitioner. Examples of such rumoured benefits include total memory recall, accelerated learning, advanced comprehension of material, and/or pensieve-like capacity to observe the unobserved. While this belief has a certain widespread acceptance as truth, it is on par with other cultural legends. The reality is that Occlumency provides a means of protection, through a deep ability to focus, and nothing more. Legilimency, also victim to misconceptions, allows for the discernment of select mental states but does not present a target's mind as an archive for casual perusal.

Classically, the student of Occlumency would learn of two 'types' of defence: a passive defence through focus on a select static memory, and an active defence of shifting memories with counter-thrusts of Legilimency. In the former case, the ability to protect one's mind is in direct proportion to the experience, ability to focus, and willpower of each participant. Those who are frequent users of these skills and who possess a very strongly focused will can easily succeed against opponents who lack such traits. In the classic active defence model, the paired Legilimency probing that accompanies a strong defence will drain the focus and will of an unprepared opponent.

Detailed investigation has revealed that through methodical exercises, Occlumens can utilise at least seven different levels of defence. The boundaries between these levels are identified by the sophistication of the defence, currently known as: (i) active shields; (ii) passive shields; (iii) active defences; (iv) deflection; (v) transparency; (vi) shadowed mind; and (vii) illusions. While it remains in the realm of possibility that further levels may be attainable, to date only one human has reached a recorded level beyond five, and that skill required over two centuries of effort. The typical lifespan of magical humans implies that levels beyond seven may never be realised. The capacities of other magical races for the skills of Occlumency and Legilimency remain unknown.

Level One Occlumency

Active shielding, the simplest defence, relies on the practitioner actively focusing on one specific thought to form a barrier to intruders. To the novice, the recognition of an invasion represents the bulk of the learning curve required for this method to work. External mental probes by nature begin on the outer fringe of consciousness and drive inward. In the process of crossing the remote edges of consciousness, the subject experiencing the invasion must realise that perturbed thoughts, which appear to be random distractions, are in actuality caused by outside forces. Once this pattern can be recognised, bending all concentration possible onto only a specific thought or memory attains a rudimentary mental defence. This limiting of all voluntary thoughts to a specific pattern forces intruders to either dwell in the chosen memory until they withdraw or else push against the artificial pattern in sufficient strength to break the concentration of the target.

When the dynamic push-pull system is confronted with . . .

. . . Excerpt from Theory of Magic, Volume IV: Skills, Gifts, and Legacies, Section I: Mind Arts, edited by R.J.L.

oOo oOo

19 Aug 1992

With a sigh, Harry sat back and closed the thick tome that Nicolas had tracked down. His teacher had been distraught to see the books slip away before he could take possession last winter, and that had been before everything else that unfolded so quickly. When word came in three days ago that the books had been located, Nicolas had departed without a word and returned late the next night. No-one spoke of how they were obtained, but the grim look in his teacher's eyes told him it was best not to ask questions.

"What have you learned, Harry?" Nicolas' voice was the standard, patient tone he had come to appreciate, though the man's eyes were as flat as they had been for over eight months now.

"Well," Harry replied slowly, pretending to be thinking about the volume they had been poring over for the past day. In reality, he was trying very hard not to throw up the bile and acid in his empty stomach. The mere thought of lunch had almost done him in, and he had only read the passage on the first ritual at that point. Now he wished he had fallen ill in order to avoid reading the second. "It sounds like he really only has two options to come back: the Golem Ritual or the Rite of Rebirth. The problem is that the Golem Ritual is flawed and not a real solution."

"Remus?" Nicolas directed his gaze onto Harry's best friend. "Would you agree with this?"

"I think Harry is right in the basics," Remus said after a long hesitation. "I don't think he understands it fully, however. Both of these rites are actually ritualistic frameworks employing other magics that are already well understood. It is the combination of old and new that makes them so powerful, and the rituals themselves that make the material so Dark. As I see it, neither is really set in stone – either could be adapted to fit other purposes with some effort. Thus, I think there may be other options but would not wish to guess as to what they may . . . entail."

Nicolas nodded as Remus spoke, which led Harry to believe that Remus was correct but not as correct as he could be. "Indeed," Nicolas confirmed, "nothing with magic is truly set in stone, as it were. Consider the Golem Ritual and what would happen if we substituted the Elixir of Life for unicorn blood."

Harry was unsure what might occur, as the mechanics of the potion bases in both rites were far beyond his level of understanding. Remus seemed to have the same insight as Nicolas, however, as Harry saw his friend pale considerably. "The golems would not wear out. He would have the perfect host."

"Exactly, Remus!" Nicolas said. "And consider this – his essence would not be bound as it would in the Rite of Rebirth. He could flit from golem to golem and none would be the wiser."

Nicolas looked expectantly at both Harry and Remus for a long moment, which led Harry to wonder what they were missing. The Golem Ritual, carried out in either fashion, still required a massive investment of time and resources to make it work. Moreover, the sheer manpower necessary to support the ritual would make it very challenging. But there was something about Nicolas' gaze that made him think they were overlooking something important.

Remus coughed suddenly, and Harry turned to him with concern. "Your vault," Remus said after thumping his own chest with a fist a few times. "Someone made a grab on the vault you kept the Philosopher's Stone in last year."

"Correct. Had I not removed it some time before then, it would now be powering Voldemort's unstoppable golem dynasty." Nicolas turned slightly to look at Harry rather than Remus. "What do we know now, Harry?"

Harry had to pause to re-evaluate both rites, combined with the indicators they had just discussed. "It would seem he's still stuck in essence form. He must do one of these rituals, or something like them, in order to regain his body. Denied the Stone, the golems would each fall apart rapidly if he used much magic directly. That would limit his power and be a constant weakness. But the Rite of Rebirth isn't any better, really, as he would be reborn as a child. He would spend a decade and more rebuilding his body, yet he would be vulnerable the whole time. Who would he trust to see to his needs? I doubt there's anyone he can trust, let alone would trust."

Nicolas sat down slowly and nodded once sharply. "Very good, Harry. You have grasped the stalemate we are in. I suspect this is why he did not come back until he could make a grab for the Stone. He does not wish to do either of these rites, for they each carry a set of problems he must overcome. He will continue to look for a way to enhance either, or to find a third option, such that he is not weak when he returns. But I do not think he will continue to wait much longer. If something is not found that will suit his needs, I fear he will proceed with either of these as they are and, if necessary, look for a better solution later. He cannot afford to let you fully mature while he is so weakened."

Remus shuddered briefly. "I can't fathom the amount of time he must have spent researching these, or how he found out where the Stone was kept."

"That worries me as well," Nicolas said softly. "Harry, which rite do you think is more likely for him to pursue?"

Harry shrugged briefly. "I can't see him accepting a body that falls apart with normal magic use. His inner circle was supposed to be fanatically loyal to him, and they'd know they couldn't really kill him since he survived before. I'd bet on the Rebirth. He wouldn't have to be seen physically to still wield power."

"Good," Nicolas said after a moment, "but that opinion shows your non-magical upbringing. You cannot kidnap children of wizards and witches, Harry. There is too much that will be left behind that can be used to directly track and locate the child. I have never heard of a successful abduction of any child of at least one magical parent when the parent was trained."

Harry had to think about the implications of that for a bit, staring at the ceiling absently. "You're saying he wouldn't be able to find a host for the ritual?"

"Not without killing every relation that exists in the entire bloodline, no."

"And are we sure that a non-magical host would not suffice?"

"Technically, it wouldn't really matter," Remus said slowly. "You can run tests to determine whether the Rebirth will be correct or not. But for Voldemort, who has always wanted to be pureblood, it would matter. If he were recreating himself, he would want a pureblood host to be the basis."

"So we should keep a close eye on the untimely deaths of purebloods?" Harry asked into the silence.

"As well as a close eye on the value of boomslang skin," Remus said after a long period of silence. "If someone wanted to do the Golem Ritual, the large volume of the purchase should spike the market price heavily."

oOo oOo

Sat, 23 Sep 1995

"I've got one! Scaly squirrel scrotum."

"Oooo, nice one, George," Fred commented. "Harry?"

Harry made a seesawing motion with one hand. "I'll concede the scrotum choice, but scaly? Is that really the best adjective you can come up with to make something viscerally disturbing?"

George smiled briefly. "Well, I thought about saying sleek, for the Sleekeazy hair product, but it just didn't work by itself. Sleek Squirrel Scrotum, it sounds like it should be employed in a red-light district."

"What about sautéed?" Harry asked.

"Eugh!" Fred shuddered. "That's just sick, Harry."

George clapped his hands together. "Very nice. Perhaps simply 'saggy' would do?"

"Saggy squirrel scrotum?" Harry asked. "What's so disturbing about that?"

"Sallow!" Fred offered. "Colours work, eh?"

This time George shook his head. "Nah, I think sautéed was better."

"Scurvy?" Harry asked after a moment. "Nah, that's a noun."

"You can make it an adjective, though – scurviest," Fred suggested. "Kind of disturbing, bleeding squirrel scrotums. Wonder if Vitamin C would help that."

"Sloppy? Sloppy squirrel scrotum?" George sounded slightly hopeful that this suggestion would be better received.

Ginny's voice cut through the discussion. "Do I want to know why you three are pondering squirrel scrotums?"

"Ginny!" Fred said with overtones of pleasure, standing up to turn and face her. "Join us whilst we wait for the others!"

Harry could see that she was less than convinced that she would want to join them for any reason at all, let alone the topic of conversation. "It's a game, you might say," he pointed out as she sat on the sofa with Fred. "Some friends of mine played it when they were students here years ago. They still do, actually."

"That doesn't make me feel any better," Ginny responded with a half-smile. "If it's who I'm thinking of, this has to be sick and twisted somehow."

George looked back and forth between Ginny and Harry for a moment, the expression on his face clearly depicting a strong curiosity. Before he could say anything, however, Harry continued. "The game is played in turns. Each player has two patterns to choose from. The first pattern is that you pick a letter, such as 'S', and then you need an adjective, a living entity, and something sexual – all starting with that letter, and in that order. The idea is to make something very graphic and as disturbing as possible. Thus, George has proposed a saggy squirrel scrotum."

"Proposed? Mum will be over the moon to plan a wedding for George and his scrotum chum." Ginny's half-smile remained in place, though her left eyebrow had climbed a bit at the explanation. "Let's see . . . saggy, and I heard sautéed. Why not sugary, for that matter?"

"See?" Fred stage whispered. "I told you she'd do well."

"Yeah, yeah," Harry agreed with a wave. "The other option is rhyming. It's the same adjective-animal-sexual pattern, but now all three words have to rhyme, not necessarily start with the same letter. It's a lot harder to rhyme than it is to do matching letters, so . . . "

Ginny paused for a moment, watching the three of them sitting around in various laid-back poses. "Such as queer deer spear?"

Harry blinked at her comment and then started laughing softly. "You've played this before."

Ginny's smile became full-blown, and for once in the past week, it seemed to be completely genuine. "Maybe," she admitted. "Maybe I've only heard about it."

"Oh?" George asked, leaning forward. "What's the best line you've heard? Harry has refused to tell us any."

"Really?" Ginny asked, her surprise clear. "Well, the one I found the most . . . poignant . . . was tangy orangutan puntang."

Harry laughed hard at the expressions that slowly crossed the twin's faces. There was a clear set of stages – shock, contemplation, then disgust. "That really is disturbing," George finally offered. "Who came up with that one?"

Ginny held Harry's gaze for a moment. "Don't know," she admitted. "I was ignored when I asked."

"That's truly repellent," Fred murmured a bit too loudly. "Who would risk the tasting to find that out?"

George firmly smacked Fred on the shoulder, all but growling, "Don't think about it! Don't ask! Gaahhh!" George then got up and ran up the stairs, hands over his ears, while Fred snickered.

"Very nice," Harry suggested. "George ran out, so you won the bet. He owes you a Galleon."

Fred stood up and tossed a small bundle to Harry before following after his brother, sweetly calling out, "Oh, Geooooooorge," on the way.

After the departure of the twins, Harry looked at Ginny and tried to assess her mental state. The faint smile remaining on her face now appeared fragile, but her eyes had a bit of flash to them. "So how did you get Remus talking about this?" he finally asked.

Ginny's smile became somewhat more tangible as she met his gaze. "I sort of stumbled in while he was arguing with someone about the merits of, and I quote, a prancing Queer Deer Spear. There was quite a bit of laughter about whether 'prongs would know', or something like that. The other person kept telling him it wasn't up to the snuffles test and threw the 'tangy' line out."

"You saw Sirius?"

"Is that who it was? No, Remus was talking to thin air as far as I could tell." Ginny nodded vaguely at the bundle he had received from Fred. "What's that?"

"The latest version of their extruding ear, or whatever they're calling it."

"Extendible, I think," she murmured. "What are you using it for?"

"I thought I'd listen in on your little chat with the Art professor. You remember what we talked about, yes?"

Ginny nodded slightly, her smile dead and buried. "Yes, Harry, I did promise. I just don't want to get any more detentions from her, all right?"

"Fair enough. How are you feeling?"

Ginny broke eye contact and looked across the room. After a pause, she said, "I'm coping. As you said, I'm not dead yet."

"Well . . ." Harry slowly stretched the word out, "I had been leading up to the idea of food, but that's nice to know, too. Hungry?"

Her look told him his effort at subterfuge was a complete failure. "All right, then," she said quietly. "Is Ron talking to you yet?"

"Nah," Harry said with a shrug. "He was sort of staring at the ceiling and twitching a bit when I left. Wasn't sure whether I should risk Hermione's wrath by telling her the kid's still not sleeping."

Ginny shook her head slowly. "You probably want to continue to avoid her. I guess he'll be getting more Calming Draught today. Maybe I'll take Hermione when I go to Poppy and talk with them about, err, your help for Ron."

"I didn't mean to break him," Harry reminded her. "I thought it'd help."

"Harry," Ginny said with a tone that made it clear she was completely unsurprised, "your idea of 'help' isn't what most people think of when they ask for it. You tend to be, well, either brutally direct or else indifferent."

"Oh." Harry was unsure what he could say or do in response to that, so he simply tried to accept the statement as her view of reality. To some extent, what she said mirrored the impression he had been receiving lately from others – although they were far more circumspect about it. Playing 'nice-nice' was in large part based on being nice, which suggested taking into consideration the feelings of others on all levels. At the same time, people ready to believe rumours or slander were probably not worth the effort of being nice to. The road to hell was paved with good intentions, but it was the repercussions that really caught up to any action in such a profound way.

Resigned to a situation that was unlikely to resolve favourably anytime soon, Harry rose, and together they began the trek toward the Great Hall for an early breakfast. Ginny reverted to her recently 'normal' subdued self once they were in the corridor, so Harry opted to fill her in on the events of the prior evening. "Sorry for running out so quickly last night," he offered quietly. He had no trust in the secrecy of what they might talk about while in public, so he deliberately kept things vague for the moment. "I'll give you exacts later, but some of our . . . partners in this mess called for an unscheduled meeting."

Rounding the end of the corridor and waiting for the first staircase sequence to align, Harry glanced around. He could see a few heads moving about several floors below, but with the time as early as it was, he thought it reasonable to guess that no more people were about. The few portraits that were not feigning sleep kept their eyes following them as they moved onto the staircase.

When they arrived on the fifth floor and began the detour to reach a different set of staircases, Harry continued. "The meetings like last night are very, err, formal and not really helpful to meaningful discussions. There's still a meeting on tonight, or there should be. What that means is that I'll still talk to Dumbledore about taking you with me tonight – if you want to go."

Ginny said nothing as they waited for the final staircase that would take them down to the Entrance Hall and the Great Hall. "Do you think I should?" she finally asked.

Harry shrugged a bit. "Hard to say, really. You've met Remus and Tonks, so you'll sort of know a few people. A few others know of you, but I would imagine most wouldn't care much as long as you're vouched for and under fealty oath to one of us. It's more of a chance for you to understand that, well, we're not alone in this mess. You're not alone."

"You think Dumbledore would let me go?"

Harry sighed, unsure how to answer her. On the one hand, the man knew of the growing predicament that Ginny was faced with. Seeing a group of faces fighting the same fight, in some form or another, would be emotionally stabilising to some degree. On the other hand, the headmaster had been absent from view for some time now, and Harry had begun to suspect that the root issue was avoidance rather than something else. Even that was hard to accept, however, as they were under fairly restrictive bonds that they simply had to communicate about old Tommy whenever possible. Even if Dumbledore was avoiding him for non-Riddle-related problems, Harry still needed to learn advanced magic from the most educated man in the United Kingdom, not waste time in classes or polishing windows.

"I'd like to say yes," Harry ventured as they entered the Great Hall, "but I really don't know. All I can do is ask, if you want me to. Worst case is he says no. Or maybe he says yes, but no one's around. It's been like that for a bit, actually."

They sat at the end of the Gryffindor table closest to the Head table. Harry picked that location since it was about the only place he had not been recently. He knew his constant shifting around among the Gryffindors was causing some discord during meals, occasionally separating people that did not want to be. As far as he was concerned, however, the fact that he had not eaten more than one meal near the same group of people in any few days was worth a touch of ire. Only Ginny remained an obvious target, though the Weasley twins were making a solid show of painting themselves as candidates.

"All right, then," Ginny said as she put some toast and eggs on her plate. "If he says yes, I'll go."

Harry nodded his acceptance of her decision and resolved to find Dumbledore after he finished listening in on Umbridge's interrogation techniques. He wanted to know how much potential damage she could inflict based on any material she extracted from her targets. While he felt reasonably certain that Ginny and the twins would be stellar examples of stonewalling, he was less than sure that either Ron or Hermione would hold back speculation, observations, or inside comments he had imparted during a memorable "Potions Tutorial" that was more Pensieve-browsing than anything.

Ginny seemed disinclined to discuss anything further, so their breakfast passed in companionable silence. Harry kept an eye out for the people coming into the room for breakfast, continuing to build his mental map of faces to recognise and with likely groups to which those faces occurred. The open space around where Harry sat was becoming more common, as though none wanted to risk whatever was coming next.

The Slytherins that met his gaze had more or less adopted a uniformly pitying look, and he was at a loss to explain why it bothered him. Scant days after Trelawney had taken over the supervision of that House, he had begun hearing strange stories about 'reformed' views. The bulk of tales came from the younger years, but even the most senior students seemed to be milder versions of their past lives from what he could gather. The ones that continued to avoid his gaze were another story entirely, though he had no direct evidence of their support or opposition to his presence, let alone his goals.

Ginny had stopped hounding him about the loss of the original Marauder's Map, which was an unexpected development. He had requested a replacement copy for her, but with everything else going on, it had likely fallen by the wayside. The removal of the core elements that were instigators in most of the known problem situations should have truncated her particular sources of issues in the castle. While Harry remained convinced that the Malfoys were at the heart of her troubles, Ginny's continued disquiet after the boy's dismissal showed that there were lingering facets of concern. That these elements persisted in some form, even with the removal of Slytherin House's worst cell of trouble after the messy battle outside the headmaster's office, was its own source of worry for him.

In all, Harry continued to believe that anything which was counter to the Malfoy family interests was directly in his own interests, if he could only figure out why. Faced with the problem of thinking like his opponent, he had given up months ago and simply moved on to thwarting their efforts at every opportunity and worrying about the wherefore of it all later in the calm moments when there was time to speculate over plots and desires – or waiting for Remus to explain it. There was no real reason he could think of for their entanglement with the Weasleys, whatever it was, but the fact that it existed was enough for him to want to use it or break it.

"Mr Potter," a harsh voice grated next to him. "I see that you have finished your breakfast."

Turning in place, Harry calmly regarded the foul woman an arm's length away who had so blatantly interrupted his thoughts. "Indeed, Madam Dark Arts, I have." Her flash of annoyance at his continued false air of respect was a hollow victory for him, and they both knew it.

"Then you are to report to Mrs Figg for your detention immediately," she snapped at him. "Miss Weasley, we may as well start your discussion with me. Come along." The woman in her outrageous purple and pink attire waddled off, leaving Harry and Ginny to trade looks and follow her out of the Great Hall.

"Remember," Harry whispered as quietly as he could, "no food, no drinks, no speculation."

Ginny nodded briefly as she passed Mrs Figg, who was standing in the Entrance Hall looking rather flustered. Harry had hoped he could listen in on Umbridge's inquisition of each person via the twin's invention. Since he now had no opportunity to conveniently disappear before running into Mrs Figg, that was no longer an option. With a sigh, Harry realised he might as well get the situation over with, though it meant he would have to interrogate Ginny later.

"Good morning, Mrs Figg," Harry said as he came to stand near her. There was no reason to take his frustrations out on her, after all. She had been kind to him, the pretext for their daily meetings aside. "How are you?"

Her gaze was focused on Umbridge's disappearing back, and Harry could faintly make out the flush of Arabella's cheeks. "That . . . that . . . that woman!" she finally ground out. "She is terribly unpleasant."

"Dare I ask?" Harry found Arabella quite nice, if a bit dotty. She was completely harmless as far as he could tell, though her cats were another story. They had the castle covered, and he could seldom walk from one place to another without crossing paths with at least one. Filch's cat, left behind during his unintended sojourn to St Mungo's, usually appeared to be quite traumatised by the interlopers.

"Well," she said as she turned to face him, "she wanted me to make you clean out the pet waste rooms without magic."

Harry was puzzled at the term, for he had never heard it before. "Er, pet waste rooms?"

"Exactly," she said with a grimace. "As if the house-elves don't clean it out hourly with magic."

"Sorry," Harry said after further consideration. "What is the thing?"

"Don't you have a pet?" she asked, her surprise evident.

"Not here."

"Oh." She paused for a moment as though trying to puzzle out part of a bigger picture. "Well, every pet has to have the Castle Charms cast on it – the elves are required to do it to every pet brought here. One part of those charms causes them to all go to the nearest pet waste room for bodily functions if they're in the castle itself. Keeps it from being all over the place, you know."

Harry admitted to himself that while obvious in hindsight, it was a type of trivia that he could never imagine being useful. Unless he should find himself buying a castle some day, though given the state of his finances that was unlikely at best. That issue aside, he could see both sides of the original issue – Umbridge looking for her own little score in their petty contest, and Figg finding the idea unpleasant and repulsive.

"Well," he said with a smile, "I'm glad it sounds like you're not going to ask me to do that."

Mrs Figg huffed slightly before shaking her head. "Not at all." With a small gesture, she headed outside, and Harry followed along as requested. When they were standing on the path in front of the doors, she looked about for a moment before talking again in a much quieter tone. "I probably shouldn't say this, Harry, but I can understand your dislike of that woman. You shouldn't have Stunned her, but she probably deserved it as far as I'm concerned." Straightening back up, she returned to her normal volume. "This morning you'll be helping Hagrid, Mr Potter. You're done when he's run out of things for you to do, or when lunch is served, whichever comes first. Good day."

Somewhat amused with the outcome of the conversation, Harry spotted one of her cats staring out at him as she returned inside. With a flick and swish of its tail, the cat turned and followed Mrs Figg. Shaking his head slightly at the woman and her cats, Harry walked to Hagrid's cabin.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, Hagrid was not yet back from breakfast, and the cabin was empty – aside from an exuberant Fang, who was whining because Harry refused to let the dog lick his face more than once per visit. In order to avoid the dog's attentions, Harry walked about outside the cabin, pausing when he saw that one of the relatively tiny - and normally empty - tightly-fenced pens contained several small creatures which were rooting around in it. Until one of the small, black, furry creatures dug up a shiny bit of quartz, Harry was unsure what he was observing. At that point, the book Ginny had been forcing him to read leapt to mind, and he recognised the Nifflers for what they were. A quick count showed thirteen in the pen, so Harry surmised that Hagrid was planning a lesson on them.

Leaning against the pen railing, Harry tried not to think about what Umbridge might be doing that morning. Hopefully, Hagrid would come along soon and keep him occupied with something.

"A fairly boring morning so far," Floppy said, once more in Remus' voice. "You're not planning anything to liven things up, are you?"

The Hat was currently lazing about in the form of a multi-coloured muffetee around his left wrist, the different colours of the Hogwarts Houses repeating in a sinuous wave over the black background. In all, Harry found this particular shape highly annoying as it made his hand feel far too warm.

"Come off it, Floppy. I don't seek out opportunities."

"I wouldn't choose the word 'seek' with you."

Harry laughed softly. "All right, that's fair. Got any stories to pass the time? We left off with Ogden's Folly, as I recall."

"I think not. I would rather ask you a question instead."

"What's that, Floppy?" The hat had taken to asking him questions off and on, but its purpose was usually to elaborate on why Harry had done some specific act in the past or why someone else around him had done something. Harry supposed there were limits to what sifting through memories could tell the Hat, but that should have been somewhat expected if he had really considered the situation. Ever since Floppy had stopped its chastisement and switched to banter, Harry had found himself enjoying the company of the thing. Or rather, he enjoyed the company until it resumed mocking him.

"What would you say to Mr Riddle's question of justice?"

Harry sighed briefly. "Regarding the Dursleys? I don't really know."

"Do you think you're capable of evaluating justice?"

"In general? With enough information about an issue, sure. For them? That's tricky." Harry paused to think of how he could articulate the problem, or rather his understanding of the situation. "I can't really rely on my own memories. My perception of them changes with time, I guess, and everyone tends toward revisionism."

"Even though you still wake up haunted sometimes?"

"Well, I guess the problem is recognising what did happen versus what my mind thinks happened. I wasn't very old, you know that, and I'm not keen on reviewing it through a Pensieve. I think you need a third party to judge their acts, Floppy. I'm too biased. It's not like what they did was the only source of hell for me."

"No, I would never suggest it was. But the question remains: do you consider justice to have been served? Did they pay sufficiently for their crimes?"

Harry leaned back against the split rail paddock after checking to be sure nothing was inside. With Hagrid, you could never trust a seemingly innocent and safe location to actually be such. "I suppose I'd say that I hope so. I think a part of me wants them to suffer more, but another part just wants them gone. Not as though they left the country, but as if they never existed."

"In other words, you don't want to think about them."

"Yeah, maybe," Harry conceded after a while of thinking about whether he wanted to not think about it. "Maybe that's just me still wishing they never did exist, so it never would have happened."

"You understand the fallacy of the logic, do you not?"

"Of course. But that doesn't mean it's not how I feel. Humans aren't logical, are they?"

"No, Harry, humans are most certainly not logical. No matter how much they may try to pretend otherwise."

"We can't all be smart-arse hats now, can we?" Harry was unable to stop the jab before it came out. "Er, sorry, that was uncalled for."

"Accepted, Harry. But if you can accept that history is fact, not fiction, no matter how it may be recalled or told, and that human society has deemed their punishment meted out appropriately . . . the question is still whether or not you agree with the end result."

"Well," Harry temporized for time and space, "if I don't think much about it, then no, not really. All I can think of is the life I lived, how I felt, and how much . . . they did. But if I try to think of what their lives have been like, life in prison, and away from their son . . . well, they've sort of had their own kind of hell. Then I'd tend to say . . . probably, yes. But I can't quite . . . let go of it that easily." Harry paused to pick a particularly long blade of grass from the ground. He had previously found that he was able to discuss topics like these much better if he had something he could physically do with his hands, such as shred grass or paper into minute particles. "It's . . . I can't . . . I can't think of them, yet not think of our mutual history. Which is why I don't think I'm right to judge them. I'd like to accept that they have paid their dues, but I don't know that I can honestly say that I do accept it."

"The difference between admiring those who have faith in something and actually having faith in something."

"Exactly. I'd like to have faith that the lesson has been taught and the balance sheets are clean. But I don't have that faith myself."

"Harry, why is it said that to forgive is divine?"

"Probably because it's hard."

"I would say that's a true answer but far from complete. Think of it this way. You have three choices. You could continue to be resentful and angry. You could simply accept that things have changed and do your best to continue not thinking about them. Or you could accept that things did change and see them as new people, different from the ones who did what they did."

"All right, but there's no certainty that they won't do something like it again to someone else."

"Of course not. But should you punish them for that which they have not yet done? Particularly that which they are unlikely to do again?"

"Err . . . not yet done? Or do again?" Harry tried to follow the implications and line of questioning for what Floppy was truly driving at. "Okay, I can see that – they haven't done anything wrong that we know of since their release. It's unlikely to be an issue as their son is grown, and they are extremely unlikely to have more kids. But you're asking about trust more than forgiveness."

"Am I? If you accept and avoid, then you are saying that you really haven't forgiven them anything. It says that you continue to carry the pain and anger with you for past wrongs, and from that pain, you avoid them. You are essentially throwing a blanket over them and pretending not to see them. Or you could accept that they are new people, people with a troubled past. You have other friends like this, who have done things that are wrong by any metric you might name. Yet when you met them, they were different people, and you befriended and now even trust them. Sentient beings constantly make mistakes, well intentioned or otherwise. How are these circumstances any different?"

Harry could admit privately that Floppy had a point, after a fashion. He was less than certain he would or even could agree with the point fully, but there was a truth involved that was elusive and fleeting to his own way of viewing the world. "I need to sleep on this, Floppy," he finally offered. "I haven't really thought about it like that before. It's one thing to recognise that it's too raw to be fair, and another to disassociate completely like you suggest."

"Take your time, Harry. You hurt yourself in this, too, by carrying such bitterness inside. You don't want it to linger until you suffer dehiscence, do you?"

"Err, no."

"But the same argument applies to other events just the same."

Harry stood there wondering both where Hagrid was and whether he could honestly ascertain his own feelings regarding his dubious relatives, but another issue came to mind. "I've a return question for you, then, Floppy. Same topic. What do you think of Riddle's offer? That if I were to help him in some single task, he'd give himself up and go quietly to Azkaban for his crimes? Genuine or not?"

"As you know, Harry, I cannot reveal information I have learned from the minds of people I have examined. Based solely on the public information I have heard while sitting in the Headmaster's office, I am unsure if I know enough to answer the question. Perhaps the most I could say is that for Tom Riddle as I knew him, it is somewhat possible that the offer is genuine. For Lord Voldemort, it is also in the realm of possibility but very unlikely to be genuine."

"Yeah, but which one was I talking to?"

"Only you can decide that, Harry."

oOo oOo oOo

"Ginny's comin' down 'ere fer lunch," Hagrid announced into the silence. "Want ter stay yerself?"

The new pen was fully fenced, and Harry was hard pressed to think of a more exhausting morning in recent memory. Digging post-holes without magic was downright tedious in rocky ground. He was unsure what would require a ten-foot high fence of the strength that Hagrid had designed, but he was sure he would find out all too soon.

"Is it some kind of standing engagement?" Harry asked. "I wouldn't want to intrude." He was interested to know how the episode with Umbridge had turned out, however, and that would mean staying.

"Won't be th' first time Ginny's had lunch wi' me, Harry," Hagrid said cheerfully. "She'd come 'round fair often befor' this year. Don't see her so much now, but she seems happier."

This statement, for its apparent contradiction to reality, confused Harry thoroughly. It made no sense, really. "Er, happier lately, or this year? I thought she was pretty depressed right now."

"Oh, she's maybe a bit o' something sad now," Hagrid agreed. "But even like this, she's a sight better 'n before. Used ter come an' hide in me cabin more often than not."

"Ah." Harry paused to consider the implications of the surprising revelation that Ginny had spent considerable time with Hagrid in an effort to avoid whatever was out there. Here was another person pointing out how much her personality had shifted lately, and it left him as puzzled as before. He wanted to ask the question, but Hagrid's friendship with him was too new compared to the man's friendship with her to ask what he really wanted to. Something generic and imprecise, however, would be a starting point. "Not to pry, Hagrid, but d'you know why she was having problems?"

Hagrid sighed, the magnitude and duration of the exhalation impressive even for a half-giant. "Nah. I tried askin' a few times, but she'd clam right up. So's I just tried t' be a shoulder t' cry on. Err, I shouldn't o' said that, 'Arry. Don't yeh be givin' her a hard time over it."

Harry shook his head, bemused and somewhat uncomfortable that he was both being confided in and sternly warned about his behaviour. "She's my friend, too, Hagrid," he offered quietly. "I wouldn't do that."

"Maybe, maybe not," Hagrid said after a moment. "I've heard an earful abou' yeh lately, Harry. I don't think you'd do it, neither, unless yeh thought tha' someone deserved somewhat. Problem is, yeh don't seem ter know what is an' isn't kicking over th' anthill."

Ginny's voice cut their conversation short as she walked to where they were standing. "Hello, Hagrid, how are you?"

"'Ello, Ginny!" Hagrid boomed back at her. "Good ter see yeh."

She tilted her head as she regarded Harry, and he took a moment to study what clues she offered. Given that she was not scowling or smiling, he supposed that the morning of interrogation followed by whatever else she had opted for left things equivocal in general. Harry nodded briefly, only saying, "Hey."

Her reaction was merely to flex one eyebrow before she turned back to Hagrid. "I see you've put Harry to honest use, Hagrid. He could probably stand more of it, but I'm not sure the sweaty and dirty look is quite right on him."

Hagrid laughed a bit, which caused Harry to pause and consider his appearance. He was rather thoroughly covered in dirt and grime from the knees down, with large streaks of the same all over the rest of his clothes. It was nothing magic would have a hard time with, assuming he cared to bother with it. In truth, he had enjoyed the menial labour of digging holes and securing posts, as it gave him a distraction from everything else in the world while also allowing him to think a bit about the questions Floppy had raised.

"Well, 'e's helped me set up a new pen," Hagrid told her. "D'you want Harry ter join us fer lunch, or should we send 'im packin'?"

Ginny shot Harry a half-smirk before she answered. "Oh, he can join us, but only after he's washed his hands and face."

Knowing he was not going to win anything, Harry conceded the battle for the moment. "Yes, dear, I'll wash first." Her answering smile was almost worth the sarcasm, though he still felt she was playing a role rather than being true to her self at the moment.

"Look at it this way," Hagrid suggested as they turned to walk back to the house. "Means Ginny can help w' the motorbike after, eh?"

Harry had to smile as Hagrid so cavalierly offered a return path for Harry's sense of justice. "Only if she's not afraid of a little dirt and honest effort," he retorted. "After all, she might get her hands dirty."

Ginny's scowl matched Hagrid's chuckle as they walked along the new fence. "Bit o' grease never hurt nothin'," he agreed. "But then, I never knew li'l' Ginny ter back down from a challenge, neither."

She beamed at Hagrid before scowling back at Harry. "If you want help, all you have to do is ask for it."

The statement was so loaded and ripe with tones that Harry almost missed a step. Ginny had fired a warning shot, though he was unsure to what the warning referred. Perhaps it was related to his handling of her brother or even her own training. Then again, it was just as likely to be about something he could never guess with a whole day to ponder it. "Err, right," he finally agreed, not entirely sure what he was agreeing to. "While I'm not sure if we actually need another pair of hands, if you'd like to tinker, your aid would be welcome."

"See?" she said to Hagrid, as though continuing some prior discussion. "He's easy to handle."

"Wish I could handle the pens as easily," Hagrid muttered.

"What's wrong, then?" Harry felt it was almost his duty to ask, given the wide opening Hagrid had left in the conversation. It also neatly changed the topic of conversation away from Ginny's remark that he had apparently failed to grasp.

"Well, it's the Nifflers, see," Hagrid said as they looked into the small pen. "They keep disappearin' when I leave 'em alone fer a bit."

"Disappearing?" Ginny sounded as perplexed as Hagrid looked, though Harry thought that pointing such out would be a mistake. "That's odd. I'd suspect Fred and George, but I haven't seem them with any small furry things lately."

"I thought o' that, too," Hagrid muttered. "Been keepin' an eye out, yeh know? Just t' be sure."

Harry filed away the information for later consideration. Apparently, his afternoon was already spoken for, between lunch and further work on Sirius' old motorbike. And he still needed to track down Dumbledore. That meant another use of the map and trekking back to his trunk to fetch it, when the bike repair was done for the day.

oOo oOo oOo

"My dad would have loved that," Ginny said quietly as they entered the castle. "He's obsessed with all things Muggle."

"Yeah?" Harry's mind kept drifting at random intervals back to the Nifflers and how they might be disappearing. It was hard to tell if there was something worth knowing about the situation or if it was just more magical mayhem around the castle. Either way, it was easier to think about than the other things he knew he should be contemplating. "Maybe some day you can bring him to where I live, and his curiosity could keep him busy."

"Rather like the cat?"

"And the cat died happy," he agreed.

"Harry!" Ginny's voice held a note of warning in it. "Let's not joke about that, all right?"

With a sigh, Harry nodded. "Sorry, didn't mean it that way."

"I know you didn't," she replied tersely. "Just start thinking before spouting, all right? You're remarkably like Ron at times; it's no wonder you two don't get along well."

Harry was unsure how to react to that particular statement. On the one hand, she was definitely being derogatory, while on the other hand she had provided a hint that might be useful in figuring out why he and Ron had failed to reach an accord – ignoring recent events, of course. "So how did it go with the Arts Madam?"

Ginny shrugged briefly. "My part was all right. She did try to get me to drink some tea, but I had a good excuse since we'd just left breakfast." She looked about for a moment, though Harry could tell the Entrance Hall was quite empty. "I really dislike that woman. She's either cloying or vindictive; there's not much middle ground. She wanted to know what you'd told me, or what I thought, or what I was willing to guess at. I don't think she liked my answers much."

"Why? And you didn't get more detentions, did you?"

She shook her head briefly. "No, thankfully. It might have been a close thing once or twice, but really, I didn't do anything to warrant them, even for her." They came to a stop in the corridor near the library, and Ginny paused as two Ravenclaw students walked by. Harry noted in passing that they kept their distance and scurried more than walked, but he chalked it up to his wonderful personality rather than the scowl he was wearing. Ginny's words resumed as soon as the coast was clear. "At any rate, I told her you were showing me different ways to use magic, like the Lumos variants. And I told her you were showing me how Muggles got in shape and helping me to do some basic exercises."

"Ah. She didn't like this because . . . ?"

"Well, she kept assuming we did other things, or talked about the Ministry, or that sort. No matter how I said no, she kept asking." She shrugged for a moment. "It's not like I wanted to explain that I took a fealty oath, now is it? Not much I could have said even if I wanted to."

"Yeah, maybe. But thanks all the same, Ginny." Harry made sure that no one was in hearing range and that the nearest portraits all had empty frames. "I know you've probably made some guesses and had some ideas, so I just wanted to thank you for leaving it be for now. Thanks, Ginny."

Ginny said nothing for a while; instead, she studied him in a fairly direct manner. Harry found himself somewhat uncertain of her purpose, but he was willing to wait for her to work out whatever she needed to. "It's the same, just in reverse, isn't it? There are things I can't tell you, though I'm not sure I would even if I could. You're the same way. There are things going on you can't tell me or might not want to. I'm just trying to make the best of the situation."

Harry shrugged, somewhat uncomfortable with her intense focus and gentle voice. "Yeah, maybe. But thanks all the same." She only nodded while continuing to study him, and Harry shifted a bit. She was clearly looking for something, but he had no idea what it might be. "So, is there anything else from Umbridge I should know about? With the others, maybe?"

"About that? No, I don't think so."

"That's . . . interesting." Her word choice and deliberate phrasing did not escape him even for a moment. "So what else should I be aware of that you're wanting to tell me?"

"Madam Pomfrey did an Obliviate on Ron." Ginny paused as Harry cringed at the idea of a Memory Charm. He really, really hated that branch of magic and found the idea repugnant in ways that he would be hard pressed to ever articulate fully. "You probably want to avoid Hermione for a while, as she was muttering some really vile things about seeing justice one way or another. Ron won't remember it, of course, but you probably want to be, oh, more gentle with his psyche in the future. Madam Pomfrey said something about leaving the playing with the minds of others to people who were properly trained."

"Err, right," Harry agreed quietly. "No more scrambling of brains. So Ron will be okay now? He'll sleep more and stop avoiding Hermione?"

"Yes and no," Ginny replied. "The matron has decided that if his phobia is that bad, she's going to treat him for it. Hermione is helping, of course, both with the spiders and the, hmm, trauma of it all."

"Okay, so avoid Hermione as much as possible and leave Ron to his own phobia devices. No joking about entomophagy or the like."

"Pretty much." Ginny finally looked away from Harry for a moment before she turned back. "I can tell you want to be elsewhere, so I'm off to get some books from the library for Hermione. Just . . . think about things before you jump, all right? And try not to be so angry all the time."

"I'm not!"

"You may think that, but you don't honestly feel that way, do you?"

Harry scrubbed his hands through his hair, trying to get a handle on how Ginny kept pulling these things out. "Look, I'm not . . . trying to be angry or anything. I don't even think about being angry, I suppose. It's just there, like everyone else."

"No, Harry," she said firmly. "It's not like everyone else. Most people don't walk around doing anything they can to avoid thinking about something."

"How the hell do you know what I'm feeling, anyway?" Harry demanded. "How do you know when I'm being less than forthcoming?"

"I don't, not unless I'm about this close to you." She paused for a moment, and Harry had hope he would finally get an answer out of her. "I don't think I can explain it, but I know when I'm standing near anyone if they're happy, or sad, or whatever. Well, usually. There are a few I can't quite figure out."

With a sigh, Harry realised there would be no answer forthcoming. "Great. Just great. I'm leaking information, but I don't know how or why. That's a weakness, you know, and it could get someone killed."

Ginny shrugged helplessly. "I really can't explain it. It's never been very consistent, but with you, it's . . . well, it's pretty much on all the time. Maybe it's just because you're constantly angry."

"Yeah, yeah," Harry muttered. "One more thing to worry about."

"I'll talk to you later, Harry." Ginny gave him another once-over visually before she paused. "And you still need to clean up. Now it's dirt, mud, and grease. Very attractive, Potter." With that, she walked into the library, leaving Harry staring after her.

Remus might have an idea or two, Harry realised. It was clear that he was, somehow, somewhere, leaking information. Her answer provided a few clues, things he would have to test, but also provided useful heuristics he could apply. If what she said was correct, and given her own lack of understanding it might not be, then he could simply increase the distance between them, and everything would be the way it was before. And yet, as he thought about it, he realised that she always moved closer to him when she was determined to extract the truth of a matter.

He definitely needed to talk to Remus, but that was complicated due to the recent lack of communications at home. However, there was still the Transporter Box, and he could write a letter asking about it. Of course, he would preface any letter with a flame for their avoidance, but that was another issue. At the moment, he needed to find Dumbledore and write a letter to his mentors. Both required access to his trunk.

Something was rotten in Hogwarts, and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.

To his surprise, Harry found a thick packet in his Transporter Box with a short letter on the outside. Tossing both onto his bed, he returned the box and resealed his trunk. Stooping slightly, he picked up the letter and flicked it open, pleased to see Sirius' messy scrawls all over the page.

Howler –

Minder has a means of following you that we have yet to unravel. He is preventing any face-to-face time at the moment. Rest assured, the Scoundrels are working on the problem. As soon as we have a solution, we're staging a raid and getting you out. In the short term, let me suggest a few things.

Remember to Look Up.

No meeting this weekend, for the reasons above. Sorry, kiddo.

Do not – and I mean do not – trust Minder or Librarian fully. They are manipulating things rather than discussing them, treating anyone else as incapable of having useful input. Maybe we've done a little of that, too, but not like this. Their aims may someday yield a positive result, but I can't pretend to like their methods or the costs.

Cobalt Sanctuary remains, but must be vacant when you are there. This will continue until we solve the little tracking problem. Moony has threatened to find a way to permanently alter signatures if all else fails. That reminds me, you still haven't told us how you did that trick. Now might be a good time to fess up.

Eagle is most distraught with the current situation. A letter would go a long way if the right one wrote it.

The second page here is the item you requested for Strawberry. It only has the primary mode, though. We can't make another exactly like ours unless we're on the inside, and with the new wards all over the place, we're not trying that unless necessary. Maybe we could trade arcane lore and you can finish it later. And when are you going to bring your lady-friend home to meet your parents, young man? I thought you had a proper sense of decorum!

Moony says that the McLaggan family appears to have a nephew in Hogwarts now, Cormac. He's heard the boy likes Quidditch and might even be in Gryffindor. Remus further says, "Go forth and make nice-nice."

The best picture is the one on top.

Riddle's an arse. I say we teach him some manners. What say you?

Don't be a stranger. We'll be writing daily now.

Padfoot, 22-Sep

Harry pulled out the second sheet and saw it was perfectly blank, though a bit ratty around the edges. Glancing again about the dormitory room to verify he was still alone, Harry tapped it briefly with his wand, saying, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good." Immediately the castle outline came alive, and he studied it for a moment before he saw that Dumbledore was in his office. With a tap, Harry wiped it back to blank before it finished drawing everything. Ginny at least would appreciate this finally arriving.

Harry opened the packet and extracted a set of film negatives and beautiful glossy pictures from his first night in the castle. The top picture was indeed perfect, showing a sleepy Colin staring in confusion, the boy's hair going every which way imaginable. While the picture-Colin blinked repeatedly in confusion, the picture-Seamus beat him soundly in the head with a pillow while shouting soundlessly. Then both fell out of the bed on opposite sides, looks of surprise on their faces as they turned to face the camera directly. The scene kept playing over and over again. Harry quickly thumbed through the rest of the pictures and had to admit that most of them were amusing on some level. These too had taken a bit longer than he had originally promised, but little things were often lost in the wake of big things.

Chuckling, Harry held the packet in hand and stuffed the map for Ginny in his pocket. He had passed by both of the boys in question on his way in, so he could finally make good on his promise to hand over the pictures and the negatives. When he reached the common room, Harry did his best to ignore the unwanted attention again, instead heading straight for Seamus. While the Irish boy looked surprised at the packet Harry was holding out, there was thankfully no fear on his face.

Harry stood there as Seamus opened the envelope and slid out the pictures. Dean leaned over from the adjacent seat and promptly began laughing. Within a few seconds, Seamus was laughing as well, and then the pictures were flowing freely through the group by the fire. Pleased to see his foretelling of their eventual reaction coming true, Harry winked at Seamus and, after receiving a grin in return, left the common room. On his way out, he saw several others headed into the corner to see what had Seamus and friends laughing so hard.

Harry passed several students as he made his way to the headmaster's office, nodding slightly to the ones he recognised and trying to place names or faces with the ones he was unsure of. While he received little in response to his effort at being normal, were he asked then he could honestly say he was trying, and that was enough for the moment.

He was long overdue for a lengthy chat with the headmaster, and he was determined to finally make some forward progress. He needed both answers and to restart his hounding for advanced tutelage. As Harry drew to a stop at the gargoyle, he gave it a flat stare and considered his options.

"Hello again, Rocky. I'd like to have a chat with the boss. Are you going to cooperate?"

For a moment, Harry thought the gargoyle growled at him before he dismissed it as imagination. It had been too soft and gentle to be a stone growl, or at least he hoped so. Yet no further interaction was necessary, as the guardian moved aside and made way for Harry to reach the headmaster's office.

Just as his raised hand was about to strike the door, it opened silently, and he saw Dumbledore sitting behind his desk, the one good hand holding a cup of tea while the short arm was in the man's lap.

"Good afternoon, Harry. I've been expecting you to drop by today."

"Really?" It was a tad bit grating to think the fellow had planned for Harry to drop by. That meant either Harry was becoming too predictable or he was being set up. "You might have let me know that. You know what they say about assumptions."

"Indeed." Dumbledore's eyes had their low-grade glow of amusement, and Harry knew his reaction had been expected just as much as he had been. "I had thought if you had not visited before dinner that I would contact you after dinner. I fear we have much to discuss, though perhaps not what you might want to hear."

Clearly, Harry needed to adjust his reactions. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly, trying to gain some distance from the chaos that was running through his mind. "There seems to be a lot of that going on at the moment, Headmaster." That was a safe opening statement. Of all the things to discuss, however, Harry felt he should meet his immediate obligations first. "I do have a few questions for you, but there's one that I'd like to ask before we discuss anything else."

"Oh? And what might that be, Harry?"

"Ginny Weasley." The headmaster raised one eyebrow in a sign of interest, or perhaps surprise, but otherwise was calm. While Harry thought it quite reasonable that they would need to discuss her role given Riddle's interest, he thought it somewhat unlikely that anyone could expect him to bring her up first. This would clearly be another issue to contemplate later, when he was in relative privacy. Maybe he was becoming too predictable. "At some point, I think it would help her confidence to know she's not in this mess alone. Or rather, she's not alone with a psychotic like me for her sole company. I'd like your permission to take her to a meeting with others fighting against Riddle."

"I see." Dumbledore tented his fingers and surveyed the room slowly before looking back at Harry. "And who would be at this meeting?"

"My allies."

Dumbledore shook his head slowly from side to side. "I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to elaborate on that, Harry. As a student entrusted in my care, her safety is not something I will abdicate without due precaution."

Harry had to remind himself to be calm and rational. Pointing out the inconsistency of that statement with the past handling of students in the castle, let alone outside, would get him nowhere. "I can understand that, sir, though we've already established your past credentials are uncertain here." Dumbledore frowned a bit at the barb, but Harry was unrepentant. The truth was what it was, after all. "It would be a meeting of allies at my home. It's rather a mixture of races, magical beings, and beliefs, really. Everyone there is under a binding fealty oath to someone, except for the leaders of each delegation. We're under a much stronger oath to see to the downfall of Riddle."

"You wish to avoid telling me their names?" Dumbledore's voice held a note of curiosity, rather than accusation.

"Would a series of names you have never heard be of use? You know some of them, obviously, such as Remus, Sirius, and Edgar." Harry paused for the headmaster to acknowledge the familiar ones. "To the best of my knowledge, you've never met or heard of the rest."

"I see. And you believe this will help her, though she is not under any oath I am aware of?"

Harry was uncertain of whether the headmaster deliberately chose that phrasing, but he was not about to reveal anything to the contrary. "I do."

"And you wish for her to feel safer, or perhaps part of a broader community?"

"Yes." It was clear the man was driving at something, but what precisely he was after was uncertain.

Dumbledore remained silent for a sufficiently long period that Harry found it hard to sit still and keep the headmaster's gaze. "As you pointed out, making assumptions is a risky proposition. I will agree to your request, but I place the following restrictions on it. They are non-negotiable." His look became so intense that Harry found himself immediately nodding acceptance of any terms coming.

"First, you will use your secure Portkey to travel there and directly back. Second, no side trips away from your home are permitted at any time. Third, she may not be excused from classes or scheduled punishments for such a meeting. Fourth, you will provide me with a written notice at least one day in advance of the meeting, with both the expected departure and return times. I will not hold you to those times exactly, as few meetings run to schedule, but I expect you to make your best effort to see that these things are reasonable."

When the list was over, Harry stopped nodding. He felt a bit silly reacting too quickly to one gaze, but he had done as much before with others. Sadly, most of the others were no longer alive. "That's fine with me, sir. How shall I deliver notes to you? Owl post?"

Dumbledore visibly relaxed and let out a soft chuckle. "Given your last effort to deliver post, I have made other arrangements, Harry. The gargoyle will now accept parcels that fit into its mouth. These will be held securely until I collect them. For parcels larger than that which cannot be shrunk, Professor McGonagall has agreed to hold them for me should I not be available."

Harry supposed the headmaster had a right to be defensive of his door guardian. "All right. And for Ginny's sake, thank you."

Dumbledore held up his hand briefly. "Let us continue with Miss Weasley for a moment, please. I have studied the letter you received and understand your concern and her lacklustre performance lately. I have spoken to her teachers and asked them to be accommodating as she recently received grave news of a personal nature. They know no more than that yet were sympathetic to the described problem."

"Do you want me to convey this to her?"

The headmaster nodded briefly. "If and when you think it might be useful in re-focusing her attention, yes. Until then, Harry, I doubt it would make much difference."

Harry genuinely smiled in appreciation. "That's generous of them and of you. Thank you."

Dumbledore waved the gratitude aside. "It is only proper. That said, their acceptance has distinct limits."

The threat was clear, though Harry supposed it was less a threat and more a statement of reality. "I see. I'll try to keep an eye on her."

"I shall hold you to that, Harry."

With the initial topic out of the way, Harry knew it was time to take the plunge into the heart of the matter. "And what of the substance of Riddle's words?"

"Regarding the Dursleys?"

Dumbledore's question threw Harry off track for a moment. It was surprising that he might consider Harry to be more concerned over his relatives than fighting Riddle. "No, actually. The implied threats, coupled to his exhortations in that mental confrontation . . . that substance. The Dursleys are nothing."

"Ah." The headmaster seemed to sag for a moment, though Harry was unsure why, but then he gazed back once more. "Then you are asking me about his offer to end things before war is inevitable?"

"As well as trying to help capture his followers, go quietly to Oz, that sort of thing," Harry agreed. He was perplexed that he needed to reiterate the obvious, but then the headmaster had been rather preoccupied with other tasks as far as he could tell.

"That was most troubling, indeed," Dumbledore said after a moment of silence. "Perhaps I should start with a bit of recent history. I have spent the past several days with Cyril reinforcing the wards on this castle. Your Mentor is now laying what wards of protection he can around other critical targets about the country. Unfortunately, we are only two old men, Harry, and lack the vigour of youth. The Ministry is unwilling to listen to anything we might say on the matter and is of no particular use in these efforts."

Harry failed to stop the bitter chuckle that escaped his throat. "And the ICW is still in denial that this is an issue they should be involved with?"

Dumbledore shrugged briefly. "There are limits to what Vencil can do, Harry, even with evidence." When Harry opened his mouth to protest, the headmaster held his hand up for patience. "I know that Edgar is quite adept at manoeuvring through politics. What would he say of the situation?"

Harry had to pause to consider that. Edgar would always assert that facts were irrelevant and that what people thought to be true was the only reality that mattered. "Probably the standard line about facts not being relevant. It's the way they're presented, the perception of reality, more than reality."

"A useful description, if a little imprecise. It is the perception as presently viewed by the majority. Here, the majority of the Wizengamot believes what Minister Fudge's office tells them is the truth, and the Daily Prophet reinforces that message. With the ICW, there are many pressing problems around the world, and Voldemort is not visibly influencing anything. Why should they change the views they have held for years if they do not perceive any reason to doubt the status quo?"

Sighing, Harry realised this line of discussion would only make him more bitter about the mess his life was. "Right, well, you'd know that better than I would. I've heard similar comments from others before."

Dumbledore looked as resigned to the situation as Harry felt, which provided some small level of relief. "Then you understand, Harry, that until Voldemort becomes more active, there is only so much that Cyril and I can do around our other duties."

"Yes, I can see that." A moment's reflection brought up a potential approach that would help all around. "I should ask, sir, can I help? To be honest, most classes here are fairly boring. Rote memorization was never my thing."

A wan smile crossed the headmaster's features before he resumed sipping from his cup. "You have had an unorthodox education, Harry. I daresay that classes anywhere would mostly be boring to you. I would like to thank you for the offer, but your skills do not extend to constructing nested wards, as I understand it?"

"No." Harry knew he should have pressed harder on that topic with Nicolas. "I've done a couple of very simple things on my own, but, well, that's really just one part of why I'm here. I can do single-shot wards, but that's it. Nicholas was supposed to teach me the more advanced warding procedures."

"I see. The types of work we are doing now are mostly detection and protection. Given how few people believe the threat exists, we cannot do more serious wards at this time." He paused to refill his cup of tea and simultaneously looked at Harry in inquiry. Harry shook his head in the negative, and Dumbledore resumed. "So we must rely on alarms and less obvious things such as magical buttresses to existing protections. These are beyond basic wards, Harry, though we shall begin tonight in learning them."

"So what can be done to get more people involved? Remus would help, if you showed him the variants, of course, as would some of our allies if he asked them to."

The headmaster nodded briefly at the suggestion, but his smile told Harry that the information was already known. "I have taken other steps to garner additional support. There was a group during the first conflict with Voldemort known as the Order of the Phoenix. I have reactivated this group, and we held our first meeting today. Remus was there, so I'm sure you will hear more details from him. For now, the group has agreed to reconvene and aid in the protection and monitoring of key locations. They will work primarily in Diagon Alley, around the Ministry, Hogsmeade, and other notable locations that have large magical populations."

The described function of his group surprised Harry, for it did not match is understanding of history. "I've heard of the Order before. Remus called them the 'old crowd' at times. I thought they took a more active role than just warding and spying?"

"They did, and most likely they will again. But as I have pointed out, we lack the support of the populace at this time, so our options are limited. Unless you would have us force protections on those who do not wish the restrictions they entail?" Dumbledore's voice made it plain what he thought of such ideas.

Harry could admit to himself that he might pre-emptively ward certain places, consent or no, but that was not Dumbledore's style. "Tempting as it might be to say yes, I do understand the point."

"I thought you would, Harry. Your peculiar blind spots do not appear to include tactical issues."

"Err," Harry interjected, uncertain of the underlying message. "I'm not sure that was a compliment."

"A bit of both, really," Dumbledore replied. It was clear the man thought he was speaking directly, but to Harry it was still an uncertain message. "We are all human, Harry. We each have strengths and weaknesses. As long as we work on improving ourselves in the right directions, then all is as it should be."

"I suppose," Harry agreed after a moment. He was now confident that the man was trying to score a point about the attitude of others, in particular Harry, but it seemed atypically heavy-handed. Harry thought the best solution was just to ignore it. "Is there anything else about your 'old crowd' meeting that I need to be aware of?"

"For the purposes of our oaths? No, I don't believe so. If you are interested in the trivial aspects, I suppose I could tell you who ordered what for tea. I rather had a delightful scone of spiced apples."

"Ah, no, thank you. Since you've told me why we haven't been meeting lately, and what's been going on in other events, I guess I should do the same." Harry shrugged for a moment, trying to decide how to say it, before just opting to state it outright. "The truth is, you know everything I've been doing. I haven't actually done anything to push the fight against Riddle since we last met."

"I'm not sure that's entirely correct, but I do understand why you might think so." Dumbledore paused there, sipping his tea, and Harry wondered what he was waiting for. Apparently satisfied at whatever conclusion had been reached, he set his cup down. "If our old business and obligations are taken care of, Harry, I would like to discuss the events from the Gaunt House, the Malfoy Polyjuice, and your recent experience with Voldemort in that marvellous construct of his."

"You mean someone's going to actually discuss those with me? I may go into shock."

The headmaster sighed briefly. "Harry, it was never my intention to cut you off from everyone. I cannot speak for Cyril, of course. From where I sit, events outpaced our ability to handle them, and we have been dealing with the complications accordingly."

"Yeah, yeah, I get the idea. Where do you want to start?"

"The ring. I have reviewed the events that transpired with Cyril several times. I would like to hear your thoughts on the matter since we last discussed it, before I explain mine."

"Hmmm." Harry had spent considerable time contemplating everything that had happened when they retrieved the ring. He had drawn some tentative conclusions but had yet to share them with anyone. Normally, he would present them to Remus and Sirius, and the three of them would slowly hash them until everything had become more certain. Lacking their opinions, he was left presenting a weak theory, but really there was no one else to talk to at the moment. "The obvious part to me now, in hindsight, is that the ring was meant to be found. The protections were serious protections but not meant to stop determined, qualified wizards. I almost want to say that the protections were qualifying the invader to be worthy of the ring. Does that make any sense?"

"I believe I can see your logic, Harry. The warding was too obvious, you think, and too easily overcome by skilled wizards."

"Sort of. There was also the compulsion on the ring itself. Anyone who went there would have been looking for it, and it was set perfectly to get someone to wear it after a few more hurdles were overcome." Harry paused to hold up two fingers. "First the challenges tested your skill, and then they tested your intelligence. If you passed both, you put the ring on and suddenly lost free will. With all due respect, sir, from what I know of you, I can't imagine a mere Compulsion Charm overriding your private willpower."

Dumbledore chuckled softly, but it was obviously without real mirth. "Cyril made much the same comment, though a bit more pointed. Please go on."

"There's not much more, sir," Harry offered with a shrug. "I still don't understand why the, well, raw magic was pooled in that fashion. I don't understand where the Cynocephs came from, either. They weren't conjured, I don't think. I know they were linked to the ring somehow, but the details are . . . inexplicable at this point."

"You do realise, Harry, that we will never truly know what was meant to happen? It is unlikely that Voldemort would ever share such with us."

"That's rather obvious, sir."

"Perhaps, perhaps not," the headmaster said with a vague gesture toward the window. "Your specific line of thinking is one Cyril and I had not contemplated as yet. It was obvious that the ring was guarded, much like any pharaoh would protect his treasures for the after-life. That the protections might be, as you said, a qualification trial is a new concept. While I am reluctant to agree immediately, I find your view regarding the setting as one elaborate trap plausible and worth further consideration. We have been more focused on the events involving the ring itself."

"So what conclusions did you arrive at? And did Cyril agree with them?"

"We both are in agreement to a large degree," Dumbledore said after a moment. "You are correct that neither an Imperius Curse nor a Compulsion Charm will work on me. We both know what was actually used, but I have never actually encountered it before. And it achieved an effect we have not previously dealt with. Tell me, what do you recall of Poppy's diagnosis of my wounds that night?"

Harry had to stop and think to remember that night at all, let alone what specifically someone did or did not say. "I believe she said that your body showed signs of every spell used on you."

"Yes, she did. And yet I failed to react physically to those spells. Why would that be?"

"I'm not certain. I thought it was a Compulsion Charm for that reason – you were compelled to ignore pain or the like."

"But that does not explain why the Stunner simply failed to work, Harry. Let me ask you this. Are you particularly ticklish?"

"Ah, no, not really," Harry offered with a smile. "You can try if you like."

"That won't be necessary. But if you are struck with the Rictusempra Charm, do you not find yourself overwhelmingly ticklish and simultaneously tickled?"

"Yes . . ." Harry paused to consider the question. It was odd that neither Remus nor Nicolas had ever asked that question previously. He would need to write a note to Remus, asking him to consider the question as well. "I hadn't thought of it that way before."

"So you see the problem that exists. This rather simple magic bypasses the normal body functions and directly over-rides the nervous system. My conjecture is that the magic upon the ring was a very advanced form of the same family of magic. That's a gross oversimplification but still useful as a starting point."

"So you're saying it . . . essentially disconnected your brain and used your body as a host?"

"Precisely, Harry. I suspect that had you not stopped my body, it would have done some pre-arranged task under the direct control of the ring. If your speculation on the nature of the trap is correct, then perhaps it would tap the magical skills of the host to achieve its programmed task. Tell me, did you find it odd that you won that battle?"

"Honestly?" Harry knew there was no room for boasting in this discussion, and he was under no illusions. He never should have won that fight, not if Dumbledore was in full control of his faculties. "I thought I was incredibly lucky. You had me completely beaten, twice, but didn't follow through. That allowed me to try again."

"And do you think I would do that in a real fight?"

"I'd like to say no, sir, but I don't honestly know."

"Let me put it this way, Harry. I have never lost a duel I was conscious for, but I also avoid killing blows. While I have respect for your agility of mind and magic, were we to truly duel in such an unrestricted contest, I feel it would be quite unlikely you would win."

Harry laughed softly, and he saw Dumbledore's eyebrows rise as he continued chuckling. "In all honesty, sir, I feel rather the same." Dumbledore relaxed and smiled back, telling Harry that the humour was understood. "That's part of why I'm here, after all. I know I need to learn more to be on Riddle's level, but there are very few living wizards or witches that could come close to teaching me what I need to know."

"Which you remind me of every time we meet, Harry," Dumbledore said with a small smile. "I will not forget. That aside, we believe the ring was meant to force the host body to do some set task on the behalf of Voldemort. Perhaps your 'testing theory' is appropriate, in that if the host lacked sufficient skills, the task could not be completed with any measure of certainty. But we firmly believe that the Cynocephs were summoned when the ring was activated. Perhaps they were to act as guardians of the controlled host, or perhaps they were there for some other purpose. But they never launched an attack at my body, while they did attack everyone else."

"No," Harry agreed slowly as he remembered the details. "No, they didn't. I hadn't noticed that at the time."

"And so we now have a line of speculation, though it's not clear how useful it may be."

The silence stretched out between for a while until the fire popped and startled Harry into focusing on the headmaster again. "Did you or Cyril think of anything else about that fight?"

"Yes. We had a question specifically for you. What form of Apparition was it that you used, Harry? During the fight, that is. Neither Cyril nor I have seen it before."

"Err, Remus calls it Instant Apparition. Only I can do it currently, though I've been trying to explain it to Remus for a few months now. He thinks he might be able to learn it, but it gets tangled up in his years of Apparating normally."

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "I noticed it did not involve the usual movements and was much faster than normal – if a trifle loud. What is it, exactly?"

"A trifle? You might need your hearing checked," Harry retorted. "As for the magic . . . the best I can do is describe the effects. Normally, you sort of drill through space and squeeze through the hole – that allows you to go beyond line of sight. Your magic displaces your volume of air at the target by moving it to where you start from, and you can sort of control the noise level by controlling the speed of transfer. It's just air rushing from one place to another. Right?"

"Yes. I haven't heard it described quite that way, but it's very accurate."

"Right. So what I did instead was essentially punch a hole through space." At Dumbledore's look of surprise, Harry shrugged. It was hard not to feel somewhat embarrassed with the story, but the man had asked. "It's very draining, because there's no folding. I literally acted like a bulldozer and pushed my way through everything between where I started and where I stopped. It's limited to line of sight, and if you run through anything – insects, shrubs, the like – it's going to hurt a lot when you get there. If you try to go through a tree, you'll kill yourself. It's also very, very draining to do magically."

"Most interesting. I wonder how many other students make that mistake and fail to notice the difference? From the noise generated, any instructor would make them stop and re-focus."

"Does it matter?" Harry was genuinely curious about the answer. After all, if it had some advantage other than life-or-death gambling, he would like to find out. "It's of very limited utility, really. Aside from life-and-death situations, I'd much rather do things the normal way. Remus just wants to learn how to do it because he can't stand the idea that I can do something he's unable to."

"Remus always has been rather curious. And no, I'm not sure if it has much use, but I will think on it."

"Just let me know, sir, all right?" Harry asked with a grin. "It'd be nice to be harassed less about it."

Dumbledore's smile in return promised nothing, which surprisingly made him think of Sirius. It appeared neither liked to give up on a bit of embarrassing events. "Very well, Harry, thank you for answering that. Let's move on. What of the orb? My understanding of Remus' theory would preclude such a construct from functioning. The distance should be too great for the power required to make it work. Last time we discussed it, you believed it was fed from me. How has time changed your views?"

Sighing, Harry gave up on the humour of the prior situation. "It was fed from you. I thought you agreed with that."

"I suspect that, Harry, but do not know that." Dumbledore held Harry's gaze until he nodded acknowledgement of the semantic differences. "While I have familiarised myself with Remus' work, I am not as expert in it as you are. How confident are you that it was powered from me? Aside from circumstantial indicators."

"Sir, with all due respect, the 'circumstantial indicators' were far too strong and too well aligned. Madam Pomfrey said your magic was unresponsive to her tests, yet I could see your aura flaring and flowing constantly. It was powered from you, as that is the explanation that fits best – your magic was being siphoned off for other uses. When I disrupted it later, you became yourself." When Dumbledore continued to look sceptical, Harry threw his hands up in the air. "Ask Remus, then. He'll agree with me."

Dumbledore smiled for a moment before answering. "I already have, Harry, and he does agree with you. I had simply hoped one of you might have an alternative suggestion." Dumbledore held up his hand to stop Harry's retort to the subterfuge. "Consider the implications that must arise if we take that answer. How did Voldemort use me to power his device? How did Voldemort know that I was susceptible to be used in such a manner? Moreover, are we certain the orb was sent to you as a means of communication? Or was he surprised as well at the outcome?"

"Honestly, sir, I don't know. Maybe he had something set up in the wards to notify him if they came down. Maybe a Muggle reported the destruction of the cottage. That, I don't know. But I'm as certain as I can be that you were the power source for the orb. That ring tampered with your magic and your mind most foul. You do know what the 'owth Qayin is, don't you? That's what Crowley said it was."

"Yes, it's the Mark of Cain curse, but a stronger version. I do wonder where you learned of it, though."

"Nicolas spent years drilling me on Dark Arts," Harry offered with a shrug. He knew that Dumbledore would never consider doing the same to a student, but it was a philosophical difference that was entirely academic at this point. "While I promised someone dear to me I would never use the things I learned, that doesn't mean I don't know much of the work intimately. He thought it would foolish to limit our studies to human Dark Arts."

"I see." As expected, Dumbledore did not appear to be pleased. "I do not think I would have done the same were our positions reversed, but there's little I can do about it now. You agree that the binding I was under fits the problems of the orb?"

"Definitely." No matter how Harry thought about it, it always came back to the same answer, thanks to Ockham's Razor.

"Hmm." Dumbledore pushed back from his seat and moved to stand beside Fawkes. The phoenix had sat silently throughout their exchange and remained so as Dumbledore stroked its feathers. "From your monologue relaying the events of the orb, I had the impression that Voldemort was surprised once or perhaps twice. That he was not fully prepared for what went on. Would you agree?"

Harry could only shrug. His memory was fading with time, and he was unsure what might qualify as 'surprise' on the behalf of his nemesis. "Honestly, it's been too long for me to say with any certainty. Maybe he was, but if so it was in ways I wouldn't dare to guess at."

"If I had not been available, would the orb have worked?"

"I doubt it, sir."

"Again, Remus said the same," Dumbledore murmured. "And what if I were not the one to have succumbed to the ring? What if you had, for example?"

"Well, there's really no way of knowing, is there? Why?"

Dumbledore turned away from the window and faced Harry directly. "Imagine for a moment, Harry, that he knew the ring had been taken. When the ring was taken and no one subsequently showed up under compulsion, what would he be likely to do? Whom would he immediately turn his suspicions to for the loss of his ring?"

Harry sighed for a moment. This was a bunny trail that would serve no purpose, as far as he could tell. "To be fair, Headmaster, this is pure speculation and not very useful. I can't predict him at all."

"Perhaps, perhaps not. Would it be safe to assume that he would have additional ways to force the supplanting of full consciousness should the Mark of Cain fail?"

"Maybe."

Dumbledore began pacing back and forth in the office, striding from the phoenix's perch to the fireplace and back. "Then the ultimate question you wish to explore, of whether Voldemort's offer of repentance was genuine or not, is one that is clouded by the possibility that he had some other agenda in mind. Perhaps he never meant to have that conversation with you at all. Then again, perhaps he did. But I wish for us to be clear that we do not know why contact was initiated, or whether he was being honest during your conversation."

"That's been rather obvious, don't you think?" Harry knew his sarcasm was coming out rather strongly, but the man's comments seemed self-evident.

"Assumed yet not stated is not necessarily obvious to all, Harry."

Harry had to groan at the pointed reminder he typically delivered to others. Not wanting to watch the pacing or see the amused smile from the headmaster, Harry put his head in his hands as he leaned over his feet. "Yeah, all right. I deserved that."

"Do you feel he was being honest?"

"That's the question I want you to answer, Headmaster."

Harry heard Dumbledore drop back into his chair with a soft thump and looked back up. The man seemed to deflate from his earlier vigour, all signs of energy gone. "I cannot, not in a meaningful way. The approach and offer are sadly all yours for the deciding."

"You're saying you can't offer any insight into the situation?"

"That's not what you asked for, Harry," Dumbledore said after a moment's hesitation. "Insight I can offer, but it is fraught with peril – much like any attempt at divination is. You understand this?"

"Of course." That was another self-evident statement as far as Harry was concerned.

"Then I would say that it is not impossible for Tom Riddle to be genuine. Perhaps he did 'wake up' as it were."

"That's it?" Harry knew he sounded rather petulant at the moment, but all of this build up had gone precisely nowhere. "You sound like Floppy."

"I'm sorry?"

Harry concentrated on his breathing for a moment to get his voice back under conscious control. It would not do to start yelling at the headmaster for increasing his irritation; it was not really the headmaster's fault. "Floppy told me something similar – that Riddle might be capable of that, but Voldemort probably wasn't. Couldn't tell me which one I actually talked to, though."

"Well, I suppose I do sound like Floppy, then. I would certainly agree with the basics of that assessment. But while I think that Voldemort, as he has become, could genuinely be telling the truth, it is very unlikely in my mind that he is doing so. The problem is one we are both familiar with: it only takes one traumatic event to change a life profoundly, Harry, as you well know, so such an occurrence might shake Voldemort to his core and produce a sense of remorse. That said, I would reinforce Floppy's assertion that it is less likely that Voldemort might feel such things. I would probably characterise it as unlikely in the extreme but not strictly impossible."

"And you have no thoughts on which one I was probably talking to, either?" That had not come out as particularly hopeful, but it also had not come out as accusatory. Harry would take what he could get away with for the moment.

"No, I would say not. This is the problem that I was trying to explain earlier. We have no idea why you were contacted or what the context of the contact truly was. If this were an arranged meeting that had been well established, it would be a different story. An impromptu situation, where potentially neither side is completely prepared, is very hard to analyze properly."

Harry put his head back in his hands, wondering why he bothered seeking out the headmaster to talk to. At least with Sirius or Remus he would be entertained with the frustration. "So when he comes calling again, what then? Shall I bring him round for tea?"

Dumbledore clearly ignored the barb, as his voice remained calm. "Ultimately, Harry, you must do as you see fit. I would hope you would take steps to try to discern the veracity of his claims or look for the hidden dagger in each gesture. While I believe everyone can change for the better, it would take a significant act of contrition for me to believe this overture you have received. And yet, if he really is genuine, I would find it challenging to ignore the request. Avoiding a war that will invariably kill thousands is worth the effort to evaluate the potential skulduggery properly."

"In other words, keep your eyes open and see what happens."

"A bit too simplified, but the right idea. The question is whether Voldemort is in essence divided and now houses some of Tom Riddle's former humanity once more."

Harry stopped trying to keep his sarcasm in check. "Right. Lovely. Thanks."

"I am sorry, Harry, that I cannot offer more. We are all only human, after all. This is a very difficulty position for you to be in."

"Yeah, yeah." Harry waved off the empty words and stood up himself, stretching his legs and walking back over to the bookcase. There were several books there he wanted to study, but he had time – or at least, he hoped he did. "And his tagging of Ginny?"

"Is that not why you no longer associate with the same people? You are making an effort to cloud the reliability of his information gathering?"

"Doesn't it bother you that he has spies reporting from here?"

While Harry knew Dumbledore was not truly unflappable, he supposed it was conversations like this that made the man seem so. "There are roughly three hundred students in this castle, Harry. On any given day, many write home to their parents. What are the odds of anything in this castle remaining secret for more than a few hours, let alone a few days or weeks?"

"In other words, no."

"Each person here has fundamental rights, Harry. I will see to it that people are innocent until proven guilty. I will not prohibit open communications from child to family, ever. I apply these rules to you, as well."

Harry had to grudgingly concede the point. If it had been up to the rest of the sheep, he would have been kicked out to the curb weeks ago. Had it been up to the ministry, he would probably have been executed. "All right, all right. I get it. But it sounds like you're ultimately agreeing with my assessment that Ginny is the only firm target?"

"I am unsure I would agree with that at all. Is Ginny a target? Perhaps, but it is just as likely he is goading you into rashness and using her as a vehicle for it. If she is a target, then so are the other students you previously associated with frequently. Is that not the reason you agreed to see that they receive advanced instruction in defence?"

Harry had to look at Dumbledore, but the man was as calm as ever. Only the eyes gave anything away, and they were twinkling brightly. "Do I want to know how you know that?"

"As I said, Harry, secrets do not survive long in this castle, particularly if you are headmaster."

"Hmmm," Harry offered in return. Perhaps the man had more than the portraits at work for him. "So you're not going to discourage this effort, then?"

"Certainly not. I should like to encourage you, actually, but cannot do so officially. While your indirect approach may work for a bit, I believe you will need to step in personally before long to run the, hmm, 'club' shall we say."

"I see." Harry had to chuckle softly to himself, thinking of Dumbledore playing machinations on the scale of the ICW, the Wizengamot, and even amongst a bunch of kids in a secluded castle. The man had far too many fingers in far too many pies, but he supposed it was a way to pass the time.

"You're out of questions already, Harry?"

Harry was surprised at the question and realised he had been staring blankly at the books in front of him for some time. "Hardly. I think I'm in shock from actually having my questions answered instead of having everyone avoid me."

"You are welcome to come by at any time, Harry, to discuss such matters. If I am unable to talk, I will let you know."

Another question leapt to mind, based on their earlier comments. "So what about that Malfoy debacle, then? That seemed downright stupid, to be blunt."

"Yes, the logic was strange, was it not? From everything I have been told, Harry, Mr Malfoy almost seemed pleased to be sent to Azkaban."

Harry had to shake his head slightly and suppress a shiver. His memories of being inside the prison were still strong enough to invoke that reaction. "That disturbs me, sir."

"I admit that I feel similarly. I cannot imagine anyone happy to go to that place."

"No, I can't either."

"And, Harry," Dumbledore said softly, "I'd like to point out one other related aspect. Voldemort offered to turn himself in and serve time in Azkaban. Why would both of them want to be inside the prison? And more importantly, in the prison as prisoners?"

Harry had no answer to the question. Moreover, he realised he had no way to even start guessing at what might be a plausible answer to the question. And that realisation was ultimately something that had to change. "I don't know, sir."

"Neither do I, Harry, and that bothers me almost more than the other questions."

Harry sat back down in the seat he had formerly occupied. With a sigh, he looked up at Dumbledore, who regarded him as seriously as he knew he was regarding the headmaster. "What about Malfoy's heir, then? Draco?"

"I have been led to believe that he is claiming ignorance of his father's actions. I'm sure Edgar will have more to say on that when you see him next, but he is at Durmstrang as we speak. No charges have been or will be filed against him, but he was strongly encouraged to attend elsewhere."

"Huh. That's surprising." Harry trailed off into silence, and Dumbledore said nothing in return. It was odd, but after a protracted conversation, he was feeling more exhausted than he had in days. Between the physical exertion of building Hagrid's new pen and the emotional and intellectual ride of the too-long delayed conversation with Dumbledore, Harry had to admit that he was drained. "I'm having a hard time remembering what else I wanted to discuss with you . . ."

"Shall we begin our discussion of wards, then, and their foundations? There is ample time before the evening meal."

"Yeah. If I remember the other questions, I'll bring them up."

"Excellent. You have been reading Mr Forte's most excellent introductory text, I recall."

Dumbledore's off-hand comment grabbed Harry's brain and shook it briefly. "That text is introductory?"

"Quite, Harry. The advanced material is elsewhere, of which I have several excellent books. But your book lays a very thorough foundation for everything that comes after, and that is more important."

"Right," Harry mock growled. "More late nights for me, then."

"Learning as a job is a rare opportunity in life, Harry," Dumbledore said with his eyes twinkling brightly. "Enjoy it while you can. Let us start with the distinction between the buffer and the directly powered ward, for this is the key to nesting."

oOo oOo oOo

Harry's mind was still spinning when he came down the stairs from the headmaster's office. The overwhelming fragility of isolated wards was dominant in his mind, and the discussion had gone quite far in helping him to understand why wards were almost always created in clusters, or nested as the terminology went. Their acute sensitivity to power fluctuations made them easily defeated alone, but when placed together with a proper nesting of buffers and drains, the result could be stronger than dozens of magic users.

With a vague notion that he needed to find Ginny and give her the map he had received, Harry failed to notice the hand that attempted to seize his shoulder until it was nearly too late. The bloody suit of armour had laid in wait for him, and it was continuing to grab for him as he spun away.

With a growl of frustration, Harry had his wand out and blasted the armour back into its component pieces. Glaring at the frustrating metal, Harry decided it was time to take additional, firmer steps with the annoyingly animated construct.

"Problems, Harry?"

Harry turned to see Neville standing just at the corner, and his friend looked mildly amused at the destruction on the floor. "No," Harry said calmly. "Not at all."

"Right. Not at all."

It was apparent that even Neville was starting to see through his façade, and that was just completely unacceptable. He liked Neville well enough, but Harry needed the security of his secrets and ability to bluff.

Ignoring the smile from his friend, he drew both wands. With the left, he levitated the collection of armour bits, and with the right, he began casting Sticking Charms to the pieces, bonding them to the ceiling every five or six paces as he walked along.

"No problems at all, Neville," Harry said pointedly.

Neville just nodded, his eyes glued to the last piece of armour, which was now all but lost in the shadows on the ceiling. "Right. I believe you, Harry."

"Good," Harry shot back.

"Well, I'm meeting Ginny and Hermione for a 'defence review' session. You're not going there, are you?"

Harry thought Neville had shifted from humour to fear fairly quickly. "I hadn't planned on it. Why?"

"Well," Neville said after a moment of hesitation. "I think you might want to avoid Hermione for a bit. She's rather cross with you."

"More so than yesterday, you mean."

"Yes," Neville quickly agreed. "And she's acting a bit weird, too."

"Oh?"

Neville glanced around in a manner that Harry thought was fairly exaggerated, but apparently it satisfied his friend. "She's been casting spells with funny words," he whispered. "I heard her say 'wooga wooga' and her wand lit up like mad."

It was all Harry could do to avoid swearing profusely. Hermione had already beaten their efforts at disassociating specific words from casting a spell, and it had taken her a mere two weeks. Then again, she had a powerful motivator in seeing others do something she could not, if he understood what Ginny had been trying to tell him before. Perhaps his prior joke about a kindred spirit for Remus was more correct than he knew.

"Err, right," Harry said after a moment of getting his vocabulary under control. "I suspect it's just a passing fad. No harm, no foul."

"I'm not so sure," he muttered. "She's also been spending a lot of time with Fred and George. That can't be good. And I hear your name a lot when they do talk."

Harry had to admit that Neville had a point. Fred and George were amusing yet predictable, always relying on a system to achieve an effect. While the magic was impressive, it was still easy to see coming. Aiming for revenge on behalf of her and her beau, Harry would not put it past Hermione to turn to the twins. And with Hermione aiding them, all bets would be off for what came next.

"That's a good warning to have. Thanks, Neville."

"Yeah, no problem, Harry," Neville said. "I should go. I'm going to be late."

"Oh, wait," Harry said before Neville could move. Pulling the blank parchment for Ginny out of his pocket, he handed it to Neville. "Since you're about to see Ginny, can you give her this and tell her it's compliments of the Marauders?"

"The Marauders?"

"Yeah. She'll know what it is."

"Sure. I'll see you later, right?"

"Assuming the twins don't catch me, yeah," Harry agreed. "Thanks, Neville."

With a wave, Harry headed back to Gryffindor tower. He had perhaps an hour left before the evening meal, and that was plenty of time to write a letter back home. After a bit of haranguing over their recent behaviour and a rehash of the Dumbledore conversation, things would start sorting themselves out.

Harry also made a note to write a second letter, just to Sirius, to see if Remus had been gloating lately. The man always did carry on in a certain manner after he pulled a successful prank, and that lemming caper needed to be addressed in the proper forum.

Beyond that, he would write the recommended letter to his father and try to make sure everything was all right. Tossing in a few enquiries for Edgar would give his father something to occupy his mind and make him feel like he was contributing more. Hopefully that would ease whatever concerns had him so worked up that Sirius had raised the issue.


This chapter was truncated due to length. The second half will be coming along in a bit. That said, it was a chapter with answers! Well, sort of and maybe, with a few caveats and assumptions and people just not certain of their ideas. But it does help a bit, now doesn't it? It's all clear as mud.

Thanks to the beta team . . .