Ah, and here is where I once again deviate (consciously, that is) from Rowling's style...alas, some things I just can't tell from Harry's POV. Forgive me. ;)
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Christmas was several days past now, and yet many of the bright and gaudy decorations still remained, draped over the streetlamps and the eaves of many stores. Minerva McGonagall stood at the corner of Hogsmeade and another street, watching the scene and feeling old. Students went out of their way to avoid her, but even so McGonagall had already spotted and put a stop to several incidents of trouble and ten minutes of her shift had not yet passed by. The Headmistress sighed, her lips pressing into a thin line, and considered ducking inside for a butterbeer.

"Anything from the Order?" The voice was frigid; difficult to discern from the hissing wind.

Minerva started in spite of herself. Rysk had appeared from behind without warning. "No, Professor Harrison," she said stiffly, recovering her composure. "Kindly step around so that we may talk like civilized beings."

With a cold, dry chuckle Rysk obliged, where McGonagall could see that the laugh had not touched the other's eyes. "You know what today is. We should have heard from them by now." The wind picked up a mass of snow and skirled it around the two professors. Rysk closed her eyes against it and brushed snowflakes from her red-streaked hair. "Black's not dead." McGonagall gave her a sharp look, which was answered with a grim smile. "I'd know if he were dead."

"Then what do you suppose is keeping them or him?" said McGonagall coolly.

Rysk pulled her black coat closer about herself, buttoning the collar. "That's what's worrying me."

"There's nothing we can do but wait." Rysk looked away for a moment. There was such a strange glint in her eyes that Professor McGonagall was startled into asking, "What's that?"

Rysk glanced back at her with an insincerely puzzled gaze. "What?"

McGonagall gave her a hard look that didn't fade. "Where's Potter?"

"At Kullener's." Rysk nodded over her shoulder toward the far end of the streets.

McGonagall sniffed. "I might have guessed."

****

Ron fidgeted as Hermione opened the clumsily-wrapped package. "I...I know it's stupid, but...but it's what we're supposed to do, right? I mean...I know it's not so pretty, but I can get another one of you want and--"

"Ron...." Hermione stared at the silver locket and its chain lying in her palm. Thin, delicate lines were constantly etching and re-etching themselves into the heart's surface, forming a new and intricate pattern each time. "What...what are you--"

"I'm asking you before someone else does," said Ron with sudden conviction. "I was too late for the dance last year, I'm not going to be too late this time." He felt his face fall as Hermione's stunned expression remained. "I'm...I'm not too late, am I?"

Hermione looked up and wiped at her eyes, where tears were threatening to overflow. "Why am I crying...that's so stupid..." She sniffled, then smiled as she reached up and clasped the locket around her neck. "No, Ron, you're not too late."

Ron's eyes lit happily. He leapt down from the stool and offered his arm to Hermione. He looked so clownish and yet gallant that she could not help but giggle. Ron pretended to offended and began to walk off in a huff. Still laughing, Hermione ran after him, threaded her arm through his, and together they walked out to find Harry.

****

"I say if we don't hear anything before sunset someone goes after them."

McGonagall gave Rysk a swift, hard glance from the corner of her eye. "You'll have to take that up with the Headmaster," she said evenly, watching the younger witch with intensity to rival a hawk.

The American only nodded, staring at the busy streets without seeing them.

"I doubt he will agree." Minerva stared openly at Rysk now, her eyes narrowed.

Rysk turned her head and met McGonagall's gaze evenly with a thin, sarcastic smile. "No, I don't think he will."

It was a terse moment, fortunately broken by the arrival of Madam Hooch. "Hello, Minerva." The flying instructor walked up from behind McGonagall and levelled a pointed stare at Rysk. "Professor Harrison. I believe it's my shift."

Rysk glanced at her watch, brushing snow off the face of it. "It is," she agreed coolly. With a nod Rysk pulled the hood of her coat over her head and walked off, pausing only to murmur quietly in McGonagall's ear. "Keep an eye on Potter."

"Unpleasant woman, isn't she?" came Hooch's voice over the wind.

Professor 'Harrison' smiled bitterly and continued walking.

****

Harry clutched at his chest melodramatically when Hermione finally showed him the locket. "No! Oh, no! How am I ever going to top that?"

Ron laughed and punched him on the arm. "Shut up, you git, we told you you didn't have to get us presents. But would you listen? No, and now look what you've gotten yourself into!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Honestly!" and began peeling off her gloves as they were pushed along with the crowd of students flooding back into Hogwarts. "I have to get thicker ones; these are soaked."

Harry saw Ron smile with new shyness and warmth at Hermione. He blinked, struck by how both of his friends had changed and grown. It had happened so slowly that he hadn't noticed before, but Hermione's buck teeth were gone; her hair more curly now than bushy, and Ron seemed to be taking after his older brothers in the way of confidence, barring the occasional blush. They were growing up.

What about me? wondered Harry. Have I changed at all, really?

"Harry?"

He looked up sharply to see Ron's arm draped easily about Hermione's shoulders. Harry smiled, genuinely glad for his two best friends, and shook his head. "Sorry. Look, I'm going to go up and wrap these." He indicated their belated Christmas gifts with a hoist of the shopping bag.

"Don't bother, Harry, dinner's starting soon," said Hermione, glancing at the mass of students seating themselves at their respective House tables for a welcoming feast.

Harry hesitated, biting his lip, but was saved from having to make a strangely difficult decision by the mocking catcalls of George and Fred Weasley. "Oy, Ron! Hermione!" One of the twins pounded on the table good-naturedly and waved them over. "If I didn't know better I'd say they were going out! What about you, George?"

"I think so, Fred!" shouted George, laughing and waving them over. Ron ducked his head and blushed while Hermione jokingly threatened with a fist.

"Ron, did you by any chance consult with your brothers over this...?"

"Go on," laughed Harry, pushing them toward the Gryffindor table, "I'll be back in a jiffy."

Harry was halfway up the marble staircase before he remembered that he had picked up a gift for Dobby. A sign hanging over a darkened corner of Kullener's reading 'Misc.' had drawn his attention. In a box full of true odds and ends Harry had found a small tie, checkered black and red and the perfect size for a house elf. With a grin Harry turned around and made his way toward the kitchen, making sure that no one in the Great Hall saw him dart by.

The way to the large fruit picture led Harry through the dungeons. More than once he froze, thinking he had heard a noise: Snape had not been in the Great Hall when Harry left it, and running into the Potions master was the last thing he wanted. There was no guarantee that Filch and Mrs. Norris would not be lurking about, either. When Harry reached the fruitbowl still-life it was with a sense of relief that he tickled the banana and stepped into the kitchens.

House elves bustled all throughout the large, steamy space made much smaller by its occupants. Harry was greeted by a wave of delicious scents that made his mouth water. Several elves stopped and stared as they noticed Harry. He cleared his throat uncertainly and asked, "Hello. Where's Dobby?"

One elf with particularly floppy ears and wrapped in a potholder came forward. "What is wrong, sir?" it squealed, hopping up and down in anxiety. "Is the food nogood?" It added disapprovingly, "Has Dobby being naughty?"

"No, no," said Harry, not wanting to cause hysteria among the excitable elves. "Where's--"

"Dobby is here, Harry Potter!" came a voice from the back. Harry searched the elves standing over a line of stoves and saw Dobby at the end, tending to a cauldron of sauce. Each long ear was covered by mismatched socks, but at least the apron was worn correctly. Harry smiled and made his way toward him, careful not to trod on any of the other elves. "Dobby is sorry," said Dobby as Harry reached him and knelt down, "but Dobby must finish sauce."

"That's all right," said Harry, rocking back on his haunches to wait.

"Dobby is very glad to see Harry Potter," beamed the house elf, obviously excited.

"So am I--"

"Done!" cried Dobby, and in a flash the red sauce disappeared from the cauldron. Dobby turned to Harry, his wide eyes rounder than usual as he bounced up and down in happiness. "Why is Harry Potter come?"

"To give you a late Christmas present." Harry produced the tie from his bag.

Dobby squealed in delight. "Harry Potter is too kind!" he cried, grabbing the tie and examining it with an awestruck expression. He eagerly wrapped it around his neck like a scarf. Harry suppressed a laugh; it was close enough.

"It looks good on you."

Dobby's eyes swam in joyful tears. "Looks good on Dobby?"

"Of course." Harry grinned and gave Dobby's head a pat before standing back up. "I have to go now--agh!"

Dobby had thrown himself at Harry's legs and was squeezing as hard as he possibly good. "Thank you, Harry Potter sir!" he squeaked. "Thank you thank you thank you!"

Harry struggled for his balance. "You're welcome, you're welcome...watch out, before I fall..." He gently dislodged the house elf from his legs, laughing quietly. He glanced at the rest of the kitchen; all the other house elves were watching, some shaking their heads darkly. "I really should go now; say hello to Winky for me."

"Oh, Dobby will, Dobby will!"

Harry had a grin on his face as he left the kitchens and it remained all the way up into the dungeons. It was fortunately that he chose to exercise caution in passing Snape's classroom, for as he tiptoed toward it raised voices came from inside.

"What are you doing here?"

The Potions master's voice was angry and its usual coldness sounded frayed, frantic. Harry frowned; he set down the bag and crept closer. Right beside the open door he hesitated, remembering a snippet from one of Professor 'Harrison's' classes. "The lower your head is, the less likely it'll be seen."

"We were wondering where you were." That was Rysk's voice. Unable to contain himself, Harry dropped silently to his stomach and edged an eye around the doorframe. The stone of the dungeon floor seemed to suck his body's heat; he shivered and hoped that neither of the professor's could hear his quickening heartbeat.

Snape stood in the middle of the classroom, thankfully looking away from Harry and staring at one side of the room instead. Harry couldn't see Rysk, but he did see that his teacher's black eyes were blazing and that behind his back Snape clutched tightly a vial of deep purple liquid.

"How touching," sneered Snape. "I never knew you cared so much for my presence at meals, Professor Harrison. What are you doing in my classroom?"

"I was looking for you," retorted Rysk coolly.

"What are you doing here?" Snape's voice was dangerous and unstable. Harry shrank back a bit so that all he could see was Snape's hands holding that potion. His bone-white fingers were shaking.

"What's that behind your back?"

Snape took several steps backwards as Harry heard and saw Rysk advance. She wore leather boots, noted Harry incongruously. Fitting, practical leather boots. Looking up Harry saw the witch's expressionless, unnerving face, and it seemed to be having an effect on Snape. The Potions master's own expression was twisting in a strange mixture of loathing, anger, and fear.

"What's behind your back?" demanded Rysk again. Before Harry could blink she grabbed one of Snape's arms, twisted him into a bent position and reached deftly over top to pluck the vial out of his grasp. She was out of reach before Snape even moved to resist. "What is this?" Her grey eyes narrowed and never left Snape as she uncorked the bottle.

"Give me that!" There was a terrible, animalistic fury in Snape's face as he lunged at Rysk. She moved quickly out of the way without even spilling a drop of the strange potion, lifted it to her nose, and sniffed it. Her eyes widened, a rare sign of emotion.

"Soulsbane," she hissed. "This is a drug!"

"It's none of your business!" Snape drew out his wand, "Accio--"

Before he could finish the charm a shattering of glass was heard and Harry could see the purple liquid spreading over the dungeon floor. It gave off a strong smell, not entirely an unpleasant one, but even from where he lay Harry could feel its overpowering effect. "What the fuck are you doing with Soulsbane, Professor Snape?" Despite her swearing Rysk sounded inhumanly calm.

Snape was staring at the spilled, useless drug in shocked horror. He looked up sharply into Rysk's face. "Get out," he hissed.

"How long have you been using it?" Rysk's gaze was cold and analytical as it swept Snape's shaking body. "You're going into withdrawal; come on--" She reached out to grab his shoulder.

Snape lunged again, grabbing fistfuls of Professor 'Harrison's' shirt and shoving her against the wall. Harry's blood was pounding in his ears and his own hands were shaking, but he still noticed that Rysk did not seem alarmed at all. "Who are you?" he snarled. "Who are you; how do you do this to me?!"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about!"

Rysk didn't blink; simply stared at him. As her grey eyes penetrated Snape's black ones Harry saw the Potions master's grip grow slack; heard his breathing quicken further. He seemed to be trying to stare a hole through Rysk, trying to look into her very soul. After a moment he cried out sharply and stumbled away from her, holding his head as though it had been struck a devastating blow.

Rysk stared at Snape emotionlessly. Then she turned toward the door and started to walk.

With a gasp Harry scrambled frantically to his feet, desperately wishing for his invisibility cloak, and dashed down the hallway, grabbing his bag as he went. By some miracle he managed to make it around the corner before Rysk stepped out. Harry did not dare to breathe until he heard the echoes of her footsteps fade into the distance. Harry closed his eyes and let out a breath, aware that his legs were trembling violently. Cautiously he stepped out into the corridor and made his way as silently as he could toward Snape's room. He hesitated, pondering on whether or not to make a dash for it, and decided instead to take another peek.

What he saw was Snape sitting against the same wall he had shoved Rysk up against. In his black robes and with his dishevelled hair falling around a pair of hollow, miserable eyes, he truly looked a pitiful sight. Harry swallowed, and before he knew what he was doing stepped into the dungeon. Snape didn't seem to notice him; his gaze was fixed on the spilled Soulsbane and the broken glass shards of the vial.

"Professor Snape?" Harry's voice was so soft he himself had trouble hearing it.

Snape's head snapped up. "Potter."

Harry stared at his teacher's shaking shoulders. "You need help," he said, hearing his own voice tremor, "I'll go get Madam Pomfrey--"

"No!" Snape reached out a hand. Real fear flickered across his eyes. "No, don't get the nurse."

Harry's mind was a blank. "You...you need help. And if I don't Professor Harrison will anyway--"

"No, Potter!" Harry froze, startled by the desperation that surged beneath Snape's icy voice. The Potions master looked away. Harry glanced around, confused and uncertain, before taking several tentative steps deeper into the room. He finally reached Snape and very hesitantly put a hand on his shoulder.

"Professor?"

The touch seemed to bring Snape back into reality. The old sneer of loathing and revulsion twisted his face as he looked at Harry. "And why are you wandering around the castle during dinner, Potter?" he spat, throwing Harry's hand away and surging to his feet. "I suppose you think you can go anywhere you want, do you? Did you think it would be fun to pry into others' business?"

Harry took a step back and bit the inside of his cheek. Bastard!

"Fifty points from Gryffindor! Detention for a week! Now get out!" Snape paused, breathing heavily. When Harry didn't move he roared, "GET OUT!"

Harry glared hard at Snape before turning and walking quickly out.

Bastard. I hope he drugs himself to death.