At dinner that night, Abby was the quietest she had ever been.  Paul had to call her name four or five times before she answered, and even then all he got was a despondent "huh?".  Lily tried asking what was wrong.  Abby just smiled and shook her head.  It was sort of a pointless question.  There wasn't necessarily anything wrong, just a load of things for her to think about.  Dumbledore's half hour with her took everything she once believed and tossed it out the window.  She didn't have the faintest idea how she felt about any of it.  As she picked uninterestedly at her chicken and baked potato, she started to toy with her locket.  What would Harry do if he were faced with the same problem?  *He was faced with the same problem* said a small voice in her head.  *Remember the Chamber of Secrets?  He was just hours from having to leave Hogwarts forever.  He ended up finding the monster that was such a deadly threat and destroying it*  Yeah, thought Abby, but he knew exactly what he was fighting against.  I haven't got a clue.

            Pretty soon her silence captured the attention of most of the table.  They looked at her strangely, so much so that she started to feel herself blushing again.  Some were even pointing and whispering.  Still, she wouldn't let it interrupt her thoughts.  She was too deep within herself to let it bother her.

            However, she couldn't ignore physical contact.  Just when she thought she couldn't take any more of the stares, something smacked into the back of her head.  She immediately picked her head up and whipped around in her seat for the offender.  No one gave her any sign it was them, but she noticed a crumpled ball of parchment at her feet.  Curious, she picked it up and flattened it out as best she could so she could read it.  It was a short message, written in a scrawl she immediately recognized.

            "Abby:

                        What's wrong?  I'm here for you to talk to if you need me.

- Elijah"

Suddenly she knew what she wanted to do.  She had taken her bag with her

dinner, having essentially gone from class to the Great Hall with one great stop in between.  She rummaged around inside it, finally pulling out her Self-Inking Quill.  Hurriedly, as though she'd been meaning to do this all along, she scribbled her reply.

            "Meet me in the Gryffindor common room about ten minutes after I leave.  The password is 'kettle cap'.  Don't worry; no one will say anything.  I won't let them."

            She didn't bother signing it, since it was really rather clear who it was from.  She simply balled it back up (now it was very, very tattered and torn), turned around, and threw it at Elijah.  It flew over his shoulder and on the table in front of him – precisely where she had aimed it.  Funny, she thought.  My magic is falling apart, but otherwise I'm perfect.  I'm a perfect Muggle.  Figures.  She turned back to her friends.

            "Lily, um, I'm going to head upstairs.  I'll finish eating up there.  I'm just…not feeling well, so I'd like to lie down for a bit," she lied.  Lily peered at her warily.  Was that all?  Was that why her scar had turned green?  Because she wasn't feeling well?  She hadn't known Abby all that long; for all she knew it was an obvious solution.  She and Paul exchanged looks.  He lifted his eyebrows as if to ask, "What do you think?"  Lily didn't – couldn't – give him an answer.  Paul looked over at Abby.

            "All right," he replied slowly.  "Do you want us to go with you?"  Although he hadn't been spoken to, he still felt a certain brother-sister protectiveness toward her.  She seemed thrown off by the question, which made him very skeptical.  Then again, she also seemed very distracted.  Most likely she just wanted to get away to be alone and think.  That would be very Abby-esque.

            "N-no, that's okay," she said quickly.  She stood up and turned toward the door, dozens of eyes following her as she headed for the great double doors.  Her head was so filled with all the new information Dumbledore had given her that she felt her head would explode.  She had to get it out somehow, and now that she thought about it Elijah would provide an excellent release.  She had more faith in him than almost anyone else, more even than she knew.  As she left the Great Hall, she felt the all-too-familiar twinge of pain from her scar.  It was more like a needle prick, sharp but quick, but it was enough to make her pull her elastic out of her hair, thus disguising her forehead.  If the scar had once again turning green, she didn't need everyone to gawk.

            Abby barely made it around the corner before she was stopped by Filch, the caretaker.  Because of all the rule-breaking Harry had done in school, Filch was almost as suspicious of her as Snape was.  He glared at her warily, doubtful of her innocence before she even knew the accusation.

            "Why aren't you down eating with everyone else?" he demanded, circling her slowly like a vulture.  She swallowed hard, frozen to her spot.  With all the tumbling in her mind, she certainly wasn't prepared for this.  Come on, say something or he'll think you really did do something wrong!

            "Argus, students are permitted to take their leave of the Great Hall any time they choose," came a warm, friendly voice from behind her.  Abby sighed with relief.  She didn't have to turn around to know who her rescuer was.  "You know that.  It so happens that Miss Potter has a lot on her mind and would prefer to eat in the quiet sanctuary of her dormitory."  For once Abby was rather thankful for Dumbledore's habit of turning up at unexpected moments.  She smiled gratefully at him, to which he replied by smiling and nodding his head.  It was amazing how his voice could be so cold toward Filch and so warm toward her at the same time. He turned his suspicious stare from Abby to Dumbledore, reluctantly stepping aside.

            "Sorry, Headmaster, sir," he apologized with a slight sneer.  "Can't be too careful with the Potters, that's what my old man used to say.  They've got a complete disregard for rules, they have.  Think they're too good for them, I'd say."  Dumbledore narrowed his eyes, and his voice became as cold as ice.  Abby felt a sudden inclination to shiver when he spoke. 

            "That will be all, Argus.  You are to care for the castle, not the students.  That's my job," he said, turning to leave.  Just before he left, though, he called over his shoulder and added, "By the way, Mr. Elijah Young has my permission to pass as well."

            Abby felt her insides go cold.  How did he know she'd asked Elijah to follow?  She was almost certain Dumbledore had an uncanny ability to read minds.  *yes, I did get that right from the books, from Harry's thoughts – good for you for noticing!* She didn't have much time to dwell on it; Filch was urging her on.  Not wishing to run into any other students who had left the Hall, she raced up to the Gryffindor tower as fast as her legs would carry her.  She lit a fire in the common room fireplace, sat herself on the excessively cushioned couch, and waited patiently.

            She didn't have to wait long.  Hardly five minutes had passed when she heard bickering just outside the portrait hole.

            "I've got permission to be here!"

            "But you can't be a Gryffindor.  I've never seen you here before."

            "I told you, I'm not a Gryffindor; I'm a friend of one.  Would I know the password any other way?"

            "Maybe you stole it."

            "I didn't steal it!  Look, my friend Abby is in there waiting for me.  Something tells me she really needs someone right now.  And see, I'll rip up the password right now and never use it again.  Promise.  Now please, just let me in!"

            Abby rolled her eyes and leapt off the couch.  "It's all right, he's with me," she shouted through the portrait hole.  The Fat Lady was practically manic-obsessive about Gryffindors and only Gryffindors entering her tower.  She wasn't always that way, as Harry's diary had told her – anyone who knew the password was allowed in, and sometimes even those didn't.  But starting when he was around 13 or 14, murderers had found their way into the tower so often that the Fat Lady's paranoia was almost understandable.

            The portrait paused a moment, then swung open.  A very frazzled-looking Elijah appeared, and Abby smiled with relief.  Somehow it was a comfort just to have him there.

            "Mental, that one," he said with exasperation.  *LOL, I'm such a thief – in the movie, that was Ron's first impression of Hermione* Abby laughed openly for the first time since her visit to Dumbledore, and led him over to the couch.

            "It's just…oh Elijah, I'm so glad you're here to talk to," she blurted out, launching into a great explanation of everything that had just happened over the past hour.  He sat quietly and listened, every now and then nodding his head in agreement.  He noticed that she had a strange habit of toying with her necklace as she spoke.  He also noticed that as she played with it, the scar on her forehead glowed slightly.  Ever since he'd first stepped into the room, it had been growing more deeply green.  Realization came to him.  He swallowed hard and hoped she wouldn't notice the deep scarlet color in his cheeks.