Draco Dormiens Numquam Titillandus

~Ria~

Ria sat up gasping, plagued by the nightmare that had been haunting her for the past three weeks, ever since her father had disappeared. She was drenched in sweat, and her fingers trembled as she pushed back the blankets and groped for her dressing gown. A glance at the window showed that it was early – barely even light - but there was no point in going back to sleep.

In the bed next to her own, her best friend, Jessalyn Goodman slept, a broad smile on her face. Wanting to be alone, away from her sleeping classmates, Ria shoved her feet into her slippers and stumbled down the stairs to the Gryffindor Common Room.

The Common Room was deserted, but that was to be expected, bearing in mind the earliness of the hour. With only the echo of her own footsteps to accompany her, Ria headed for the red velvet of the armchairs that were drawn around the fireplace. In the grate, the flames flickered, a fantasia of reds, oranges and yellows.  Tucking her feet under herself, Ria settled into one of the chairs to think.

She had last heard from her father three weeks ago, in the first week of October. Since then he had not replied to any of the many letters she had sent him, and her mother, when questioned, simply glossed over the subject, saying that Daddy was 'still at work'. Well, Daddy had been 'working' for three weeks now, and given the perilous nature of his job and the virulence of the darkness that surrounded them, Ria couldn't help but worry that he had been caught.

She had never fully understood why her father had re-enlisted as an Auror. He had spent five years in the wizard crack force between leaving school in 1945 and marrying her mother in 1950. As a child she had heard stories of what it was like to be an Auror back then. He'd originally joined the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in order to counter the actions of the Dark Wizard Grindelwald, who had killed his parents in his last year of school. On marrying Rosamunde Sutton, Alexander Rutherford had resigned from the force, saying that there was too much risk involved, and that he didn't want to leave his wife a widow.

And now there was a new Dark Lord, more powerful than Grindelwald, and more terrifying than all who had gone before. So Alexander Rutherford had rejoined the forces of light, and once again risked his life so that his children could live in a world free from fear.

Well, that was the theory, anyway. Ria had been five when her father had returned to his old profession, after a twenty-five year stint in civvy street as the Managing Director of his own firm. For the past seven years, she had lived in fear. Every time he went away, she couldn't help wondering whether she'd ever see him again. And, in spite of all efforts to the contrary, the Darkness was growing. As long as her father was an Auror, he was at risk. Now he had disappeared, and she hadn't heard from him for nearly a month. She feared the worst.

Her dreams were plagued with phantom images of her father being caught by Death Eaters. First they subjected him to physical torture, to the pain of Cruciatus and other illegal curses over and over again, battering his body. Her father was fifty-four now; he was too old to withstand such pain. And once they'd broken him physically and left him so that he was so weak with pain that he couldn't scream any more, even if he wanted to, they began to play with his mind. They took his battered body, barely conscious, to a dark room, and he was left in the company of Dementors for hours and hours. Over and over again he relived the worse days of his life. Over and over again, his worst fears ran through his brain, a palimpsest of false images. Time after time he watched his family – his wife and four daughters – tortured and killed. Once they had ruined him, broken him mentally, battered him physically, they taunted him. And then they killed him. Not with the quick and painless Avada Kedavra, but with more cruel spells, not potent enough to finish him off quickly. He was left to suffer in agony for hours, his life slowly draining away.

And then they laughed.

Ria knew that her nightmares were just that: figments of her imagination. But that didn't make them any less real; didn't stop the images from being engraved on her mind. She gazed, unseeing, into the fire, her thoughts dark with despair.

She was jerked back to earth by a pair of hazel eyes, bright and mischievous, looking into her own, from the chair opposite hers. Blinking, she reluctantly let go of her thoughts and came face-to-face with the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain.

'You're up early,' he commented. 'It's Ria, isn't it?'

She nodded, mutely, not trusting herself to speak. She was suddenly acutely aware of the tangled mass of dark curls on her head, and of the long white cotton nightdress that was only partially hidden by the soft blue flannel of her dressing gown.

'It's a good time to get your thoughts in order, isn't it,' he noted, smiling indulgently at her. 'I quite often get up early and sit down here to clear my thoughts. Couldn't you sleep?'

She shook her head, suddenly overcome with a shyness that she thought she had conquered. Why couldn't he just leave her to her thoughts? More to the point, why was he even talking to her?

'What's the matter?' he asked, a teasing grin lighting up his face. 'Cat got your tongue?'

She shook her head again.

'Never mind, kiddo,' he said, still with that annoying self-confidence.

'My name,' Ria told him, sounding imperious. 'Is Ariadne.' She didn't appreciate being called 'kiddo', and never had done. And he looked like he was going to pat her on the head. No one, not even the family elders, did that.

'Charlie Weasley,' he replied, grinning. 'That wasn't so hard, was it?' He looked annoyingly self-satisfied. 'Ariadne,' he mused. 'That's a pretty name. Unusual.'

 'Ariadne was the Greek Goddess of Holiness,' Ria informed him, still demonstrating something of the regal manner that she had learnt as the youngest daughter of a noble family.

'It suits you,' Charlie said, matter-of-factly. 'Well, your Holiness, much as I'd love to stay and chat, I need to go and check the Quidditch Pitch – we might have to change our tactics if it's foggy. Nice meeting you. So long!' With a cheery wave and a grin he disappeared through the portrait hole, leaving Ria feeling thoroughly disgruntled, and not at all certain of what to do next.

*

'Ria! Ri! Wake up! RIA!' Ria's eyes fluttered open as she became conscious of an increasingly violent hand shaking her shoulder. A blurry image of pink, white and blue resolved itself into the figure of Jessalyn Goodman, her best friend.

'What's the time?' Ria asked, rubbing her neck, which was stiff after being in the same position for so long.

'Eight o'clock,' Jessalyn replied. 'If you don't hurry, you'll miss breakfast.'

The thought of breakfast was enough to jerk Ria back into reality. Yawning, she rose from her chair and hurried up to the girls' dormitory. Breakfast was served between seven and nine on Saturdays, which meant she had precious little time to waste. Hastily she made use of the bathroom, and by the time Jessalyn returned to the dormitory, she was standing in front of the full-length mirror, braiding her black hair into two long pigtails. With a flourish she tied a scarlet ribbon at the bottom of one and flicked it over her shoulder.

'You look nice,' Jessalyn said, approvingly. Ria studied her image in the mirror. There was nothing particularly unusual about her attire, a vivid red shirt and navy blue corduroy dungarees. She had tied a Gryffindor Quidditch jersey around her waist. Ria guessed that it was this particular item of clothing to which Jessalyn, a confirmed addict of the sport, was referring.

'Thanks. What's for breakfast?'

'Who knows? Nothing, probably. The rest of the greedy-guts around here have no problem with scrapping off whatever's put in front of them. Come on!' Jessalyn grabbed Ria's hand and dragged her down the Great Hall. They sat down next to Elizabeth Masters and Daisy Meredith, who were just finishing their own breakfasts of boiled egg and soldiers.

Ria helped herself to porridge, sweetening it with a liberal sprinkling of brown sugar before dipping her spoon into it. Jessalyn, meanwhile, was piling a full English breakfast on to her own plate.

'I don't know how you eat that stuff,' she said to Ria, cutting into her sausage.

'It's very nourishing,' Ria returned primly, quoting her mother. Her elder sister, Gemma, had never been terribly keen on the oat-based breakfast, preferring toast and marmalade. For years she had watched whilst the two of them battled about the merits of the traditional English breakfasts.

'It's boring,' Jessalyn said, derisively. 'And why are you discussing porridge, anyway? It's the first match of the season today! Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw! We're going to beat them to a bloody pulp. I mean - we've got Charlie Weasley as captain!'

 'I reckon the Ravenclaws will give us a run for our money, though,' Daisy chipped in. 'Their new players are really good. I know Charlie's an amazing Quidditch player and everything, but strategically it could be tricky.'

 'Charlie will win,' Jessalyn said with conviction.

 'Or maybe he won't,' Ria said, irritated at the talk of the Quidditch Captain. She couldn't quite forget his manner when they had spoken in the Common Room. She wondered if he was as arrogant on the Quidditch Pitch as he was off of it.  She shook her head.  Was it even possible to play Quidditch arrogantly?

'Now we get to see where Miss Ria's real loyalties lie,' Elizabeth teased. 'With her sisters being Ravenclaws, we have to wonder whether she has secret sympathies.'

Ria flicked her lightly.

'Don't be ridiculous. Of course I want Gryffindor to win – who wouldn't?'

'Slytherins, you plonker,' said Jessalyn, with a lopsided grin.

Ria glared.

'I'm just saying that it doesn't always do to be complacent.'

'Spoilsport,' Jessalyn grinned. She turned to Elizabeth and Daisy. 'Are you going straight to the Quidditch Pitch after breakfast? We need to be there early to get good seats.'

 'We need to rescue Vicky from the hospital wing first,' Daisy told her.

 'What happened this time?' Ria demanded. Victoria Jones was more than a little accident-prone and usually spent at least one day every fortnight with Madam Pomfrey, the school matron.

 'She fell down the stairs. Madam Pomfrey thinks she's broken her wrist. Anyway, Pomfrey was muttering about a Healing Charm when we left for breakfast, so hopefully Vicky won't have to miss the match.'

 'Poor Vicky,' Ria said, sympathetically. 'You don't suppose someone cursed her, do you?'

 'Nah – she's just naturally clumsy,' Daisy said easily.

 'She still spends too much time in there, though,' Elizabeth said thoughtfully. 'Maybe we can find a charm to help her…'

 'Or maybe we can't,' Jessalyn said, smiling. 'We love Vicky just the way she is, and if there was a cure for clumsiness don't you think Pomfrey would have administered it by now?'

Ria ignored the banter around her and focused on her bowl. It amazed her how Hogwarts could be in the thick of the battle between light and dark forces and yet still remain so insulated. Maybe youthful innocence was a virtue. Or maybe it would get one killed.

*

There was an iciness in the air around Hogwarts that made Ria glad she'd had the foresight to pick up her warm winter robes. Pulling her scarf tightly around her neck and blowing on her gloved fingers, she settled back to wait for the rest of the school to join them in the stands. She and Jessalyn were the only people out, which was unsurprising given the fact that the match wouldn't start for another one-and-a-half hours. Ria wasn't bothered by this, though. Jessalyn was one of those people one could talk to in any place and at any time, and she could read Ria like a book.

'Did you have a nightmare again last night?' Jessalyn asked.

'I don't know what to do, Jessie, I really don't,' Ria said, nodding. 'I know it's irrational, and I know that the Ministry would have contacted Mums if… if anything had happened. But he's been gone for three weeks, and we haven't heard anything. He's never disappeared for that long before. And…I don't know, I'm just worried, I suppose. It seems that all the best Aurors are being annihilated, one after the other. How long before Daddy's number is up?'

'I know,' Jessalyn sighed. 'It's all so sticky, and…' She sighed again. 'Ri, have you ever wondered what it was like before?'

'Before?'

'Before He arrived on the scene. In between Grindelwald and Him. When there was peace, and you didn't have to spend your whole life looking over your shoulder, and if your father disappeared for three weeks, it was probably because he was having an affair with his secretary.'

'Well, thanks for that encouraging prospect,' Ria said, acidly. 'Now I have another thing to worry about.'

'Ri, your Dad doesn't have a secretary.'

'He used to.' It was Ria's turn to sigh. 'Before. I don't know…we never knew a before. There's always been a Dark Lord for us. How are we supposed to imagine otherwise? But I do try, you know. I try to think of what it will be like when it's all over, when we've finally defeated him. I think it will be nice. But what if we're old women, Jess? What if he just keeps on getting more and more power?'

'Oh, hush with your pessimism,' Jessalyn thumped her good-naturedly. 'We'll defeat him before then, don't you worry. And keep your voice down.'

'Now who's pessimistic?' Ria demanded. Then she sobered. 'He got the Crispens. Last week. Rissa had a letter.'  Larissa Crispen was a Hufflepuff in their year. Her father had married a Muggle. That, Ria supposed, was why He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had gone after them. Now Larissa was the only Crispen left alive.

'Poor Rissa.' Jessalyn was sympathetic. 'What's going to happen to her?'

'I don't know. Maybe her mother's parents will take her in… Mind you, I doubt Rissie will want to live with them – it makes them a target. Possibly her Dad's brother, but they already have five children, so there's no knowing.'

'What about Merri? She was worried about her parents, wasn't she?'

'Apparently they've taken some sort of steps to ensure that they'll be okay. Wards, I presume – that's what we've done at Penarddun. Not that they'll be much good at keeping Death Eaters out, but at least it will give Mums and Lucy a chance to get away before they get in.'

'At least we're safe,' Jessalyn observed, clearly trying to look on the bright side. 'Here at Hogwarts, I mean. No one would dream of attacking Hogwarts for as long as Professor Dumbledore is here. Not even He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.'

She was right. Albus Dumbledore was possibly the only wizard that the Dark Lord feared, and with good reason. Many wizards thought that Dumbledore was the most powerful wizard of modern times, and still more wanted him as Minister for Magic. Ria could understand that. From the conversations she had overheard at home, the Ministry was a shambles, unable to keep up with the tide of destruction, still bogged down by red tape and powerless to come up with an effective counter attack. Little wonder, then, that some of the upper echelons of wizarding society sought Dumbledore as their own personal guardian. Dumbledore would never leave Hogwarts, though, so the point remained moot.

She was about to voice her agreement, but cockney tones beat her to it.

'Why on earth are you crazy people out here already?' Victoria Jones demanded, hazel eyes bright with merriment. Ria admired Vicky's capacity to completely ignore the darkness that surrounded them. As a Muggle-born witch she was one of the people most at risk from a Death Eater attack. But then Vicky was only in her second year at Hogwarts. Two years ago she had believed that magic was the substance of fairy tales. Until last year the Dark Lord hadn't existed for her. Ria wished that Vicky's Muggle life had been the truth; that dark magic and the Dark Lord had never existed.

But wishes like hers had a habit of not coming true.

*

The teams finally flew out just as Ria was resigning herself to never having feeling in her toes again. By this time there were plenty of second-year students surrounding her. The majority of Slytherins, predictably, were supporting Ravenclaw, and the Hufflepuff contingent was evenly divided between the two sides. Meaning that, averaging support out, Ravenclaw probably had a greater field than Gryffindor. That too was unsurprising. Charlie Weasley, as Gryffindor Seeker, had never yet lost a Quidditch match.

Ria had been about three when her nine-year old cousin, David Sutton, had introduced her to the rules of Quidditch. For many years, Dave had been her hero, and amongst other things, he was passionate about Quidditch. So he had seated her three-year old self on the large expanse of green that he liked to refer to as Penarddun's Quidditch Pitch (although in reality it was just a field that her father hadn't cultivated) and told her everything she needed to know. The Snitch is the interest of the Seeker, he had said. If the Seeker catches the Snitch, their team receives one hundred and fifty points. If you catch the Snitch, Ria, you win. At the time she hadn't queried that assumption. However, she had since realised that it was possible for the team who didn't catch the Snitch to win. This was, however, unheard of at Hogwarts. David's hypothesis, then, extended only to school-boy Quidditch.

Ria studied her house team in much the same way as an artist studies his subject. The uniform - scarlet Quidditch robes with their gold lining, the woollen Quidditch jerseys, scarlet with a band of gold around the neck and breast, the cream knickerbockers that were worn by all house players and the shiny brown leather protective wear. Typically, her favourite item of Quidditch-wear was not visible; the scarlet and gold striped socks. Ria had often considered 'adopting' a pair from a team member.

The players flew around the pitch a couple of times to warm up. Ria was suddenly enthused, forgetting about the numbness in her extremities, and cheered along with the rest of the supporters. She had often wondered why Dumbledore allowed Quidditch to continue in these dark times – so many people in one place would make the students quick and easy targets for zealous Death Eaters. However, the benefits outweighed the risks by far. Quidditch gave a sense of community to a Hogwarts that was increasingly isolationist in outlook. Associating with witches and wizards – any witches and wizards – could potentially result in the death of relatives at the hands of legions of cold-blooded Death Eaters. It was dangerous to have friends.

Ria shook herself. Daydreaming was not going to help matters, and if she couldn't relay the Quidditch match in its entirety there'd be a queue of people knocking on the dormitory door carrying instruments of torture. Jessalyn would most probably be at the head, with Dave at the rear, Dave being the only other relative to have been in Gryffindor. Thinking about David was painful, though. He was another relative off fighting evil, and him only just out of Hogwarts. It didn't bear thinking about. Dave had always been one to take chances – Ria wondered if he'd make it through the war in one piece.

She sighed. It was getting to the point where, no matter how she tried to think about pleasant things, she ended up focusing on the Dark Lord. She felt helpless, sort of like a ghost, able only to talk, not to affect the physical world. And that was silly too, because of course she could affect the physical world. She was alive, wasn't she? For now. The thought came, unbidden into her head.

'RIA!' Jessalyn grabbed her friend's arm. 'Look! Charlie! He's seen the Snitch!' Sure enough, the redheaded Seeker was diving towards a golden goal. But before he reached it, a Ravenclaw Bludger came close to knocking him off his broomstick.  'Damn!' Jessalyn sounded highly irritated.

'Not supposed to happen, eh, Jessie?' Ria grinned. 'What's the score?'

'Ariadne Rutherford!' Jessalyn sounded affronted. 'You've been off in that little world in your head, haven't you, and when our team is playing. It's not right!'

'Aww, hush with your nonsense,' Ria said, echoing her friend's favourite dismissal. 'Just tell me the score, would you?'

'Ravenclaw's leading by ten points, sixty fifty. I think the Chasers are having issues – Ravenclaw have new Beaters, and they're good!'

'No need to sound surprised!' Ria laughed. 'They're not just interested in school-work in Ravenclaw, you know.'

'Are you sure?' Jessalyn looked surprised.

'Well, if Becca and Jeremy are anything to go by, school-work is, on occasion, the least of their worries. And before you launch into some disparaging speech on Ravenclaws in general, do remember that all of my sisters – not to mention my father – were Ravenclaws.'

'They're a good lot,' Jessalyn agreed. 'But my, they play bad Quidditch!'

'Evidently not,' Ria said, dryly, 'as they appear to be winning.'

'Hush with your nonsense,' Jessalyn said, and Ria grinned. If she had a sickle for every time Jessalyn said that, she'd be rich. 'Gryffindor will win, you just watch, and never mind Becca and Jeremy and their canoodling – focus on the Quidditch, girl!'

The Quidditch was actually rather interesting, Ria had to admit. The Gryffindor House Team was possibly the best of its kind, and not just at Hogwarts. Under Charlie Weasley's guidance, they'd risen to a level that hadn't been seen since James Potter was Quidditch Captain, seven years ago. Charlie had evidently done some studying, - either that or he was a genius – because some of the Gryffindor tactics were simply breathtaking.

'He's so cute!' Jessalyn giggled, as Charlie flew near them. Ria couldn't see what the attraction was. He was a stocky redhead, in her opinion, and nothing like the tall dark handsome stranger that she intended on falling in love with…one day.

She was sure that Charlie's Quidditch prowess had a lot to do with Jessalyn's infatuation. Of all of the male Quidditch players at Hogwarts, Aiden Pontin, the Slytherin Keeper, was the best looking. Not that she had any intention of telling Jessalyn of her thoughts on the matter. Jessalyn laboured under the impression that all Slytherins were evil, supported You-Know-Who and should not be allowed to learn at Hogwarts. Ria suspected that it was entirely that attitude that had driven He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to being so evil in the first place. Contrary to popular belief – popular at Hogwarts, anyway – ambition did not automatically equal evilness. And anyway, Ria knew some Slytherins who were as anti-Dark Lord as the best of Gryffindors and feared for their lives just as much as people in her own house, if not more so, because a lot of their peers had parents who were Death Eaters.

'He's too old for you, Jessie,' Ria told her. 'Besides, he's not that great. Terribly condescending.'

'And how would you know?' Jessalyn was all at once defensive towards her favourite Seeker.

'I just do,' Ria said, unwilling to tell her friend of their conversation earlier.

'No you don't,' Jessalyn complained. 'You just don't approve of older men.'

'Well, it would be somewhat paedophilic if you did go out with him, you know. He's fifteen.'

'And I'm thirteen,' Jessalyn pointed out. 'Two years isn't a bad age difference at all!'

Ria rolled her eyes. She got the distinct impression that she wasn't going to win this argument.

'Oooh!' she exclaimed, the subject of their conversation creating a convenient diversion. 'It looks like Charlie's seen the Snitch!'

The Seeker was angled in a steep dive, his Ravenclaw counterpart a few metres behind him. Jessalyn clutched Ria's hand tightly as the two of them held their breath, willing their player to make it to the Snitch first.

'HE DID IT!' Jessalyn shouted, earning some strange looks from surrounding Hufflepuffs. 'CHARLIE GOT THE SNITCH! I TOLD YOU SO!' This was aimed at the Ravenclaws, who, fortunately, couldn't hear her. Ria clamped her hand over her best friend's mouth.

'Shhhh!'

'Mmmph!'  Jessalyn pried away Ria's hand. 'What was that for?' she demanded, sounding highly affronted.

'If you carried on the way you were, you'd have been the recipient of several Ravenclaw hexes, rules or no rules. Honestly, Jess, have you not heard of 'rubbing peoples' noses in it'?'

'Please!' Jessalyn didn't sound convinced. 'As if they wouldn't do the same in our position!'

'Maybe they would,' Ria agreed, 'but that doesn't increase my desire to spend the rest of the week hanging around the Hospital Wing waiting for Madam Pomfrey to stitch you up.'

'Don't you mean, 'Honestly, Jessalyn, you have no sense of de-cor-um?'' Jessalyn asked, grinning. Ria hit her playfully. The impression of her mother was spot-on. 'Stop being violent!' Jessalyn said, slipping her arm through Ria's. 'And come inside, I'm freezing!' Ria let herself be steered away from the Quidditch Pitch, but something caught her eye and she turned to look. A tawny owl was flying towards Dumbledore, bearing some kind of letter. The headmaster unfolded it and scanned it quickly. Then he got up and stooped to say something into Professor McGonagall's ear. Finally, he disappeared. But you can't Apparate or Disapparate on Hogwarts Grounds, Ria thought, puzzled. And what on earth had been in that owl?

*

Ria had managed to get away from the celebrations in the Common Room, and was now wandering the corridors hoping to find her sister. Becca was Head Girl, and if anyone was likely to know where Dumbledore had disappeared to, it would be her. Mind you, Ria wasn't entirely sure he had disappeared, but Becca could find out. Perhaps Ria was making a mountain out of a gnome-hill, but she'd rather be over-reactionary and have her mind set to rest than prevent potential humiliation. Besides which, Becca was her sister, so she could brush off any scathing retorts.

She continued to walk in what she hoped was the direction of the Ravenclaw Common Room, and was rewarded by the sight of Gemma. Not the sister that she'd wanted to see, but a sister even so.

'Gem!' she called after her sister's retreating back. Gemma swung round to face her.

'Ri! Shouldn't you be celebrating?' Ria smiled. Gemma had managed to say that without sounding even slightly put out.

'Maybe,' she agreed. 'But I'm not really in the mood for a party.' Well, that was true. She was about as far from a partying mood as was physically possible. 'Have you seen Becca at all?'

'I think she's…consoling Jeremy,' Gemma informed her, with a smirk. 'Is that why you wanted me? To find Bec?'

'Well...yes,' Ria agreed, slowly. 'Not that I don't love you and everything, but I really need to see Becca. Soon. Be a darling and find her for me?'

'Charming,' Gemma said, sounding both disgruntled and amused. 'You could at least pretend to be pleased to see me! And as for Becca – I'd love to help you, Ri, my sweet, but our dear sister is off somewhere with her beloved. Somewhere far away from the Ravenclaw Common Room, presumably, as we'd lynch him after Gryffindor's victory. And we were doing so well, too!'

'You were good,' Ria began, grudgingly, 'but not good enough.'

'All thanks to Charlie-bloody-Weasley,' Gemma said, good-naturedly.

'Exactly,' Ria nodded. She sighed. 'I suppose I'd better go and hunt for Becca somewhere else, then. Do you have any idea where they go?'

'Somewhere secluded,' Gemma advised. 'The prefect's room, maybe. Try it and see.'

'Thanks, Gemmie,' Ria said, using the childhood nickname affectionately. 'You're the best.'

'You say that to everyone,' Gemma said, rolling her eyes. 'See you later, kiddo.' She turned on her heel and continued down the corridor, a blur of grey, blue and bronze.

On Gemma's advice, Ria headed for the prefects' room. It was here that the prefects from the four houses, together with Bill Weasley and Becca, held meetings and discussed important issues. Ria had never actually been inside the room before, not being a child prone to offending, but she knew that the room was along the same corridor as the prefects' bathroom.

Ria rapped on the oak door three times. On hearing a muffled 'Come in!' she twisted the handle, and was greeted by a very red-faced Becca. Rebecca Rutherford was, by and large, a fastidious person. Her uniform was always in perfect order, and she was never seen without her Head Girl badge pinned in the centre of her blue and bronze tie. Today, however, she looked distinctly rumpled. Her hair, usually kept off her face in a neat plait straight down her back, was loose and flowing around her waist. Ria had often envied her sisters their blonde hair, which, although wavy, was nowhere near as difficult to control as her own wildly curly dark locks. Becca, blue eyes sparkling, surrounded by a cloud of golden hair and blushing prettily looked like a fairytale princess.

'You look like you've been dragged through a hedge backwards,' Ria said, bluntly, not inclined to compliment people. 'I need to talk to you.'

'So talk,' Becca said, sounding ever so slightly put out. Goodness only knew what she had been doing.

'It's kind of private.' Ria glanced nervously at Jeremy. The Gryffindor prefect seemed to take the hint.

'I'll see you at dinner, okay?' he said, picking up Becca's hand and squeezing it. He gave her a look that clearly said 'you can tell me all about it then'.

When the door had shut behind Jeremy, Becca turned to Ria, hands on hips.

'What's so important that you couldn't wait?' she demanded. Then she paled. 'It's not Daddy, is it?'

'No!' Ria hastened to reassure her. 'It's Dumbledore. He got an owl at the Quidditch match and then he disappeared. Literally. But you can't Apparate on Hogwarts Grounds, it says so in Hogwarts: A History.'

'Are you sure?' Becca was all at once alert, annoyance forgotten.

'Positive,' Ria replied, twiddling a strand of her own hair around her finger, an absent-minded gesture of worry. 'Did Professor Dumbledore say anything to you about needing to go away?'

'No, but you said he got a letter?' Becca was your typical efficient Ravenclaw Head Girl, always anxious to get all of the facts.

'Yeah – it must have been important. He said something to Professor McGonagall and then vanished. You don't think something bad has happened, do you?'

'No, I don't,' Becca said, firmly, although there was worry in her eyes. 'Professor Dumbledore wouldn't leave us if it was that sort of bad news.' They were both referring to the Dark Lord and the possibility of an attack on Hogwarts. 'Don't worry, Ria. I'm sure it's nothing. I'll talk to Bill, ask him if he knows anything.'

 'Probably not,' Ria replied glumly.

 'Are you sure you're okay, Ri?' Becca asked gently. 'You look tired. You haven't been worrying again, have you?'

'It's been three weeks, Becca!' Ria exclaimed, knowing that her sister was referring to their father's recent disappearance. 'And we haven't had so much as a postcard.'

'Ri, if anything bad had happened then we would know. Dad knows what he's doing. Have a little faith.'

'It's the Death Eaters I don't trust,' Ria said, darkly.

'And in worrying, you give them more power,' Becca retorted. Then she hugged Ria. 'Try not to dwell on things, okay? You're not old enough to worry about these things. You're twelve, Ri, not twenty. Live life a little.'

'It's hard, Bec,' Ria replied, trying to keep the tears from flowing. 'If anything were to…to…'

'I know,' Becca replied, smoothing her sister's hair soothingly. 'Believe me, I know.'

*

Ria had left Becca to get on with her inquiries and returned to the Gryffindor Common Room feeling rather glum. It was easy enough for Becca to say 'don't worry', but Ria would bet all of her worldly goods that Becca was just as concerned as she herself was, if not more so. She was willing to bet that there were things about this war, about The Dark Lord, that she didn't know, things that she didn't want to know. She was also willing to bet that Becca, in her role as Head Girl, knew pretty much everything that there was to know. Even if Becca wasn't Head Girl, Becca had a feeling she would have made an effort to find everything out. Becca's insatiable thirst for knowledge was one of the reasons that her sister was a Ravenclaw. It was both endearing and irritating. Ria, while not stupid, could never hope to be a model student, whereas both Becca and Lucy had been. It was difficult not to feel inadequate beside them. Ria knew that she was intelligent enough, but she was not an all-rounder. She excelled at some subjects and completely flunked others. She was a practical student, she enjoyed things like Herbology and Transfiguration. Charms and Potions were an enigma to her. She was surprised that Professor Snape hadn't killed her yet.

The jovial atmosphere in the Common Room did nothing to alleviate Ria's sense of foreboding. She sat and brooded, ignoring her friends until they eventually left her alone. There was no real reason for Dumbledore to leave Hogwarts. Whatever had been in that letter must have been very important, because Dumbledore had looked odd when he'd received it. There was some emotion in his face that Ria just couldn't put her finger on.

Resisting the urge to fling the cushion she was cuddling across the Common Room in frustration, Ria stood up and marched through the portrait hole restlessly. She needed to do something to get rid of the pent-up energy.

With a dangerous disregard for rules, she decided to take a walk through the grounds. She debated the Forbidden Forest, but decided that even her current agitation did not warrant the risk of expulsion. Instead she walked to the lake, hoping that the surrounding panorama would soothe her troubled thoughts.

Idly, she picked up a stone and threw it into the water. It made a loud 'plop' as it fell into the depths of the lake. Sitting on a rock, she continued to absent-mindedly hurl missiles into the now greying currents. There was something soothing about the water. Ria, although still worried, began to feel less agitated. Something wasn't right, that much was evident. There were too many unanswered questions for coincidence. Her father's disappearance, and Dumbledore's, pointed to something huge. She didn't like to think what, but she knew that some life-altering decision had been taken somewhere.

She sat studying the local wildlife for hours, and was only jerked out of her reverie when she realised that her fingers were beginning to numb with cold. She glanced up at the sky and noticed with a start that twilight was drawing in. She must have been outside for a good four hours thinking around the mysteries that had arisen. She was surprised that no one had come to look for her, but perhaps in the melee of the Common Room no one had noticed that she was gone. It was a chilling thought, given the times that they lived in. Hurrying, she made for the Great Hall.

*

Ria had been late for dinner, only just making it in time to eat anything, and by the time she had finished it was nearing eight o'clock and no one was left in the dining hall. The enchanted ceiling had turned from dusk to night, and the stars were twinkling, an ever-changing canopy of intrigue. Not that Ria believed in Divination. Scraping the last of her rice pudding out of the bowl, she stood up and made for the door.

She stopped for a conversation with the Fat Lady before entering the Common Room once again. It was still busy, but nowhere near as packed as it had been earlier. Ria noticed her sister in a corner of the room with Jeremy and the two Weasley boys. Worried, she made her way towards them. Surreptitiously she settled herself on a pouf within hearing of their conversation, and then pretended to be interested in a book entitled 'Iago Morbed and the Curse of Death', a fictional book that some Third Year boy had left lying about, no doubt. At the same time, she pricked up her ears and heard her sister speaking.

'-they'd be no match against You-Know-Who and his followers. You-Know-Who has never even considered attacking the castle, let alone tried to. I s'pose a lot of people don't realise how safe we are under Dumbledore's protection.' Becca sighed.

So Dumbledore wasn't on the Hogwarts grounds then. This didn't bode well for them. What on earth could have been so important that the Headmaster would leave a generation of young wizards and witches open to attack from potentially murderous sources? It didn't bear thinking about. Ria sighed, unconsciously echoing her sister. She didn't understand human nature - didn't think she wanted to - but one thing was perfectly clear to her.

If Dumbledore had left Hogwarts then they were all vulnerable. It was Dumbledore alone who had been responsible for the Dark Lord's fear of attacking the school. Without Dumbledore it was only going to be a matter of time before the attack came.

*

Ria slept fitfully, but for once her father was not the cause of her insomnia. She woke late next morning, having finally fallen properly asleep at 3 am. As she rubbed sleep from her eyes, she realised with a start what had occurred the previous day. Worried, she checked that there was no sound of attack.

'Stupid,' she muttered to herself. 'As if you'd be able to sleep through an attack!' Hastily she pulled on some clothes and ran a comb through her hair. It was too late for breakfast, but she didn't feel particularly hungry. The dormitory was empty, and she had nothing of any importance to do. In the end, she decided to go to the library and research her Potions assignment to take her mind off of the current state of affairs.

The library was pretty empty, as was often the case first thing on a Sunday morning. The only other inmate was Charlie Weasley, and he seemed to be deeply involved in some work or other. Madam Pince, the librarian, held a finger to her lips as Ria walked in. Speaking in very soft tones, Ria asked about borrowing the school copy of Potions for Beginners by Stuet Bet. The librarian seemed only too pleased to co-operate, and in no time at all Ria was sat at a table, quill in hand, studying the elementary textbook, one that she had been accustomed to using with her governess at home.

She was beginning to despair of ever understanding the art of potion brewing when Gemma joined her at her table.

'Morning, Ri!' she whispered, sounding chirpy and setting down her parchment, quills, ink and a copy of Hogwarts: A History which looked as though it had barely been touched. The truth was, it had barely been touched. It was their home copy of the great tome, and while they had all been bookish children – even Ria – there had never been any real need to consult the history of Hogwarts when they were learning the great magical history of the world. Consequently the book had gathered dust, occasionally being pulled out when her cousin David had visited, and the great Quidditch players viewed reverently, but generally being left well alone.

Both Ria and Gemma were immersed in their work when Becca stormed into the library. They looked up at their sister worriedly. Becca, a great stickler for rules, was always insistent that you tiptoed around libraries. Indeed, Ria could remember vividly from her childhood the days when Ria and Lucy had set up a school in the nursery, and Becca had insisted that they all take a trip to their father's library in complete silence. She had allowed the library door to slam behind her this morning. Something serious had happened.

'Everyone is required to report to the Great Hall immediately,' Becca said in a voice that allowed for no argument. Ria and Gemma exchanged a glance, both recognising the tense note in their sister's seemingly bossy tone. 'There is a matter of some urgency that Professor McGonagall wishes to address.'

Nobody moved. It was as though they could not believe the Head Girl's audacity. Who in their right mind called an assembly first thing on a Sunday morning, anyway? And when had McGonagall gone on a power trip.

'Did you not hear me?' Becca's voice rang, impatiently. 'The Great Hall, now!'

Ria got up, gathering her parchment and quill to her, and watched as Gemma did the same. They made for the library door, and as soon as they were in the corridor began to talk in hushed voices.

'I wonder what's up,' Gemma mused. 'Becca sounded odd. Sort of worried and upset. You don't suppose something has happened to Daddy, do you?' The worry was evident in her voice.

'No, I don't,' Ria said, quickly. 'Why would McGonagall call everyone to the Great Hall if something had happened to Daddy? It would concern you and me and Becca. No one else.'

'I wonder what it is then,' Gemma looked thoroughly bemused. 'I can't think why they'd get us all in there again if it wasn't important.'

The Great Hall was packed when they arrived. Students, House Elves, even Ghosts had gathered in the huge expanse, making the usually grand room seem cluttered and untidy. The House Elves were gibbering worriedly, probably concerned about appearing in public, and the ghosts were conversing in a similar vein to the students. All around people were hypothesising as to why they had been summoned. Suggestions ranged from the sublime to the ridiculous, with one First Year suggesting that McGonagall was going to announce her marriage to Peeves, the Poltergeist. Whether she was intending to lighten the mood or whether she was serious Ria didn't know, nor did she particularly care. Thanking her lucky stars for her small lithe figure she wriggled her way to the Gryffindor Table and found her friends. Before she could say anything, Albus Dumbledore entered the Great Hall.

'I appreciate how inconvenient this little meeting is, but I feel it is my duty to pass on the news that has settled on the wizarding world.'

Little meeting? That was the understatement of the century, if ever there was one. But there was a strangeness in Dumbledore's expression. He seemed to be controlling it, schooling it to appear serene, to give the aura of power that had become synonymous with his name.

'Some of you in the Sixth and Seventh Year may remember Lily and James Potter, who were Head Girl and Boy here several years ago.' Ria hadn't known the Potters personally, but she had heard of them. They were in Lucy's year, both Gryffindors. Lucy had been most put out that Lily had received the Head Girl position, having secretly coveted it herself. However, she had got on well enough with Lily Evans, as she had been, and no blood had been shed. Lucy had been Ravenclaw's Head Prefect, and had almost forgiven Lily for stealing her thunder. Indeed, Ria often thought that her sister showed something bordering on affection for her one-time rival.

'Lord Voldemort attacked the Potters' house in Godric's Hollow yesterday evening, and I am sad to say that Lily and James Potter were both killed.'

Killed? The statement reverberated around Ria's brain, somehow getting into every nook and cranny. But these people were the same age as her own sister, had been at school with her sister. Had probably joked with her sister. In a moment of clarity, Ria realised that it could just as easily have been Lucy and her mother as Lily and James Potter. The thought terrified her. Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak again.

'However, there is another part of this tale that must be imparted to you. Lord Voldemort not only tried to kill James and Lily Potter, but also their one-year-old son, Harry.'

Ria was conscious of a ripple of disgust travelling the length of the Great Hall. What kind of person would try to kill a baby? Then again, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named wasn't a person. Not really.

'Yes,' Dumbledore continued, holding up his hand for silence, 'Voldemort tried to kill Harry Potter. But something happened then that he had not counted upon.'

There was an almost imperceptible air of expectation in the air. No one knew exactly where Dumbledore was heading, but it was obvious that he was heading somewhere. It was as if everyone was holding their breath, waiting for the inevitable.

'Somehow Harry Potter survived the Killing Curse. The curse therefore rebounded upon Lord Voldemort and…he is gone.'

Ria wrinkled her forehead. The Dark Lord? Gone? Vanquished by a baby? It seemed too good to be true. She glanced around the hall taking in the shock that registered on everybody's face, whether they were student, ghost, House Elf, portrait…it was surreal. She had dreamed of this day, and now that it had come she felt numb. Vaguely Ria could hear Dumbledore talking again, about the loss to the wizarding world. But she didn't take that in either. The news of Death didn't cut much ice with her. She wanted news of life, or, more precisely, her father's life. She wanted to know that he had lived. What good would His death be if her father was gone too? Suddenly, Dumbledore became clearer.

'…They would have wanted above all else to be able to raise their son without the threat of Voldemort. So I ask you all now to raise your glasses, please, to James and Lily Potter.'

Ria joined in, solemnly raising her goblet. The Potters' sacrifice was enormous. Her own father could fight safe in the knowledge that her mother would always be there for his four daughters. The Potters didn't have that luxury.

'Lily and James Potter,' she said, with conviction, unable to smile, but noticing those around her beaming at the gift that Lily and James Potter had given them. The gift of freedom. But Dumbledore was speaking again, his voice barely above a whisper.

'And finally I would like you to raise your glasses to Harry Potter - The Boy Who Lived!'