Author's Notes: There were some serious POV problems that needed rectifying in this chapter. And so, I rectified them. Go rectifying.

You know what's so much better than doing schoolwork?

Doing this.

^_^

***

"What happened?"

"Who's crying?"

"I think it's Granger."

"No, you idiot, it's Willows…"

"Did somebody die?"

"Bollocks, Dumbledore finally kicked the bucket, didn't he?"

"Don't say things like that!"

"What's going on?!"

As soon as Peeves had heard of the chaos and carnage in the greenhouse, he'd wasted no time in gleefully spreading the news around the nearly-empty castle. The small group of students who had decided to remain at Hogwarts over the holidays had immediately run out to the greenhouses, thankful for a distraction from their post-Christmas boredom. The nosy band of students were now clustered outside the doors of Greenhouse Number Two, pushing and jostling each other to get a glimpse of the gruesome sight Peeves had alluded to.

The students' interested chattering abruptly died away as Professor Drago made an appearance at the doors of the greenhouse. "Go back to your common rooms," she said shortly.

"I can't," one of the first-year students confessed, blushing. "I forget where mine is."

Drago stared at the kid, shaking her head, and then sighed heavily. She briskly walked out of the greenhouse, the older students disappointedly dispersing in the general direction of their common rooms, and the first year tagging along at Diana's heels.

***

Inside the greenhouses, as Hermione and Professor Flitwick attempted to console a continuously sobbing Professor Willows, Albus Dumbledore stood beside Minerva McGonagall, staring at the slaughtered Mandrakes. McGonagall finally looked away, the dignified witch making a quiet, but unmistakable, gagging sound.

Ron Weasley could hardly blame her. As an Auror, he had seen some gruesome sights; but somehow, here at Hogwarts, the carnage was much more striking, even if the victims were only plants. He stood, with his arms folded tightly across his chest, in the corner of the greenhouse, watching Dumbledore. The headmaster continued to stare at the grim sight of the slaughtered Mandrakes, his blue eyes blank and hollow. Soundlessly, he turned around and began to walk out of the greenhouse, moving gracefully despite his age and current feeble condition.

"Headmaster?" Professor McGonagall inquired. Ron watched as the fragile form of Dumbledore began to shake slightly as he continued sweeping away. Then the headmaster abruptly stopped, as if a decision had just been made in his mind.

"Staff room. All of you. As soon as possible," he told all of them as he whirled around, his eyes ablaze. "This is no longer a game."

With that, he stalked out of the greenhouse. The staff members gathered together there stood in stunned silence for a few moments. Even Professor Willows' wails momentarily stopped. Then a soft whimper escaped from her, breaking the hush that had fallen over them, and the teaching staff of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry broke into confused and alarmed conversation.

The veins in Ron's neck began working overtime as he fought to control his fury at what had just happened. He'd failed Dumbledore. His mission had been to get rid of the threat against his former headmaster without causing panic within the school. Yet he could not even perform that simple task – first, students had been hospitalized, and now, their only hopes of revival had just been savagely destroyed. From Dumbledore's little speech, it seemed that soon enough, chaos would break loose at Hogwarts. He was going to tell everyone about the note, about the lunatic, and about Ron's failure.

Ron's fierce gaze swept the greenhouse. His eyes roamed the scene for dark hair against a porcelain complexion, and then blazed with rage as he noticed she was not there.

"All right!" he roared suddenly, causing poor Professor Flitwick to nearly have a heart attack. "Where is she?!"

"Er…who?" Professor Roberts, the young Muggle Studies teacher, asked in confusion.

"Drago!" Ron shouted. "I wonder where she is, eh? Probably hiding in the castle with - "

"Ron!" Hermione hissed, rising from her knees abruptly, her hair flying.

" - a bloody knife and laughing at us all for being so stupid!" Ron finished, heedless of Hermione's warning tone. Everyone else looked puzzled. "Don't you see? Those kids, the Mandrakes, Dumbledore! She's responsible!" Ron yelled wildly, losing all control. "Her father - "

"Ron!" Hermione shouted. He finally stopped ranting, clenching his fists until his knuckles turned white.

"Professor Weasley!" McGonagall exclaimed, looking frazzled and confused. "Explain yourself!"

Hermione frantically glanced at Ron as an expectant silence enveloped the greenhouse. Ron suddenly felt weary, as if tired out from his raving frenzy.

All eyes were on him and Hermione, as if the other teachers finally sensed that the two of them knew something the rest of them did not.

"Well," Hermione finally said, her cheeks flushed as both she and Ron deliberately ignored Professor McGonagall's demand for an explanation. "We should…go…to the staff room."

A few nods, a few grunts, a few whispers, and a sniffle from Professor Willows were the reply she received. The ghostly figure of Professor Binns slowly floated through the glass panes of the greenhouse walls, and emerged on the other side, heading towards the staff room. Murmuring amongst themselves, the rest of the staff followed suit, casting furtive glances at Hermione and Ron every now and then.

Blood boiling, Ron stomped out of the greenhouses, Hermione at his heels.

***

Dumbledore's conclusive words had been painfully final, though confusing and unexpected for the rest of the teachers. This is no longer a game. Desperately, Hermione tried to ignore the fact that for the first time in her career, Hogwarts would be going into high-security, high-alert mode. She was no stranger to it, but she had always been on the other end when this happened. She had always been the one blindly putting her trust in the all-powerful teachers to keep her safe from whatever evil lurked in the school, whether it had been the horrific warnings linked to the Chamber of Secrets, or the false threat of Sirius Black. Now Hermione - Professor Granger – was the one who had to be the all-powerful teacher.

As the teachers filed into the staff room, with its mismatched armchairs and couches of a multitude of colours, Hermione had never felt more powerless. The teachers wordlessly took their seats and looked to Dumbledore, who was grimly staring out at them all. The heavy, expectant silence rang in Hermione's ears.

"This school is no longer safe."

Dumbledore's opening words shattered the potent silence in the staff room. Immediately, a wave of nervous whisperings, punctuated by a few gasps, filled the room. Dumbledore held up his hand for silence, leaning heavily on his cane. Hermione saw Ron dig his fingernails into the arm of his chair.

"As many of you have most likely suspected, the two injured students in Madam Pomfrey's care - Mr. Ramone and Mr. White - were the victims of an attack." Dumbledore's tone was painfully blunt. His eyes swept over the members of his staff, but they seemed dull, lacking their usual brightness or twinkle. "They were Petrified by a deranged individual, whose existence I know of only through a menacing letter he or she wrote, threatening my life - "

At this, the temporary, uneasy quiet of the room was broken by a muffled gasp on McGonagall's part. Obviously, the Deputy Headmistress had not suspected anything to be amiss at Hogwarts. She, like the others, had always steadfastly trusted in Dumbledore to ever tell her if anything was awry. The look in her eyes was one of disbelief and betrayal.

"Albus - " she began incredulously.

"I am most sorry, Minerva," Dumbledore said sincerely. "As a foolish precaution I told only those who absolutely needed to know about this threat, in favour of keeping a panic-free environment at this school." The headmaster cleared his throat and briefly closed his eyes. "It has often been a weakness of mine to keep those I care about in the dark, in favour of keeping them content, and consequently, oblivious. This was a senseless decision on my part."

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip. Never before had she heard the headmaster admit weakness. It was a lesson that she had to learn - Albus Dumbledore made mistakes, that he was human despite his powerfulness.

A quick glance in Ron's direction revealed that her old friend definitely did not agree with Dumbledore's decision to inform the staff. The look on his face was one of complete frustration and anger. Professor Granger's first reaction was to be exasperated with the Auror. This was no longer Ron's personal little Sherlock Holmes adventure or a chance to impress Hermione. The safety of the students was at stake.

But then, quite suddenly, Hermione felt a swell of pity for him. Ron was frustrated and angry with himself, not anyone else. He'd come to the school to do a job, and had failed not only Dumbledore, but the students as well. He was supposed to have kept both parties safe.

As alarmed questions were fired at Dumbledore from every direction, Hermione found herself reaching out to him. To her own surprise, she shakily placed her cool hand on Ron's warm, dry one. He looked up at her in surprise, and Hermione gave him a small smile of reassurance. Ron half-smiled back, and then turned to listen to Dumbledore, though he slowly intertwined his fingers with Hermione's. Both professors felt slightly comforted as Dumbledore explained the even more severe security precautions that would have to be observed once the students returned from Christmas holiday.

"The students, of course, will also have to be informed that we have a potential former Death Eater lurking about," Dumbledore finished. "I will not insult their intelligences as well by pretending that the extra security around the castle is not without reason."

With that concluding statement, his face lost its determined, authoritative look, and suddenly Dumbledore was a weary, tired human being who was struggling in a battle with age again. "Now get a good night's rest, all of you. We have much to do tomorrow."

The teachers rose, whispering amongst themselves. Hermione's hand immediately flew out of Ron's, as if she had just realized it was there. She stood up with the rest of her colleagues, trying to ignore the warmth rushing to her cheeks. Ron silently followed suit and the two of them followed their co-workers out of the staff room. Hermione's hand was tingling where Ron's warm fingers had intertwined with hers.

As the staff room door slowly began to swing shut behind her, Hermione heard Dumbledore and McGonagall begin talking quietly, attempting to repair the shattered trust between them.

***

The students, all of them well-rested and good humoured after the Christmas holidays, returned to Hogwarts only to find a nervous, troubled staff, extra spells guarding the castle (a group of sixth-years found this out the hard way after trying to sneak out of bed their first night back), and that classes on their first morning back had been cancelled in order to hold an emergency assembly in the Great Hall. Emotions ranging from perplexed, to apprehensive, to curious, to confused; the student population of Hogwarts filed into the Great Hall Monday morning and silently took their seats at their respective house tables.

Dumbledore was extremely straightforward with them. His speech was blunt and grim, devoid of the wry humour he customarily used when addressing the students. The headmaster told them everything: from the threatening letter, to what had really happened to Paul and Roger.

At more than one point, the students broke into alarmed chatter or gasped in shock. One Hufflepuff girl even fainted when Dumbledore mentioned Voldemort's name when he spoke of the Death Eater who was likely behind the attacks on Paul and Roger and the threats. But when it was all over, the silence was deafening.

"A strict curfew will be observed," Dumbledore warned, breaking the absolute quiet. "Any student not in their common room by eight o'clock will be endangering themselves and others, and will be severely punished. The same goes for walking to classes or on the grounds without a teacher. And I'm afraid Quidditch matches will have to be cancelled."

"What?" exclaimed Oliver Wood, the flying teacher. He was still Hogwarts' biggest Quidditch enthusiast, and would play with the students again in a heartbeat if such a thing was allowed. "Headmaster, you must reconsider…in this trying time, after all, Quidditch is what bring the school…the students…together…" he faltered.

"I'm afraid, Professor Wood, that Quidditch matches mean Quidditch training sessions. And I will not allow a group of unsupervised students to be flying around the pitch with a deranged individual on the loose," Dumbledore replied coolly. Oliver opened his mouth to protest but then closed it and sat back down, muttering something about 'getting all paranoid over a stupid letter'. McGonagall, who was sitting beside the former Gryffindor captain, gave him a disapproving frown.

"I assure you all that you are under the protection of the finest staff Hogwarts has seen in many, many years. Do not panic. Go to class, socialize with your friends, enjoy the rest of the year. These security precautions are not cause for alarm - rather, they are simply cause for you to be aware."

Dumbledore paused. "I apologize for lying to you for these past few months, and beg your forgiveness," he told the student body, seeming to gaze sincerely into the eyes of every single student before him. "Know that I only had your best wishes in mind. You may now return to your dormitories."

Wide-eyed students stared back at the headmaster, unmoving. A few of the Prefects summoned their courage and stood, putting on brave expressions. A handful of the older students followed suit, and slowly the rest of the students all stood, though a few of the younger girls were whimpering and several of the first and second-year boys were whispering loudly amongst themselves.

"Well," Dumbledore said presently to the staff assembled at the Head Table. "I do believe that they handled that as maturely and calmly as was possible. I'm proud of them."

And with that, his eyes rolled into the back of his head, and the headmaster crumpled to the ground.

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Ah, the triumphant return of the cliffhanger. I love it. Except it's not really a cliffhanger, since the next chapter is already up, isn't it?

Damn.