Somewhere in the void between sleep and wake, Grey heard them enter his room. Without conscious thought he seized the lightsaber from the nightstand and jumped out of bed. The glow from the blade illuminated their shadowed faces.
He had never seen Giles or McGonagall look as pale as they did then.
"What is it?" The blade disappeared. Behind him, the only sound in the deathly silent room came from a highly embarrassed Willow hastily disentangling herself from the covers.
"It's Albus, I'm afraid." McGonagall's voice was scarcely louder than the rustling blankets. "The poison."
Willow interlaced her fingers with Grey's, watching nervously as Tara and Madam Pomfrey ministered to the unconscious Dumbledore. With his wizardly robes and hat missing, he seemed a tiny, frail old man. He labored for each erratic breath, as if the effort required a recharge before being repeated. His typical rosy glow had disappeared, leaving skin as white and crinkled as old parchment.
"Oh dear, oh dear," Pomfrey whispered as she ran a cool cloth over his sweating forehead.
Tara's soft voice backlit the room with low chanting as she worked her magic on the headmaster. The spell would either slow the poison or do nothing, but anything more invasive would risk worse damage.
"I'm gonna go get Puddles and have a look around," Spike said quietly. If possible, he seemed paler than usual.
"Good idea," Grey agreed. "Come find me afterwards and we'll do another pass." He glanced at Willow's hand, which would not be relinquishing his anytime soon.
Spike saw the look and nodded. He disappeared through the door.
"I had no hint of this," Snape whispered to Giles and McGonagall. The three of them huddled in the corner. "I assumed that if those ingredients were meant for poison I would have," he cast a suspect glance at Willow and lowered his voice further, "heard something before now."
"Is it possible they know about you?"
"No." His voice carried utter conviction. "I would be swiftly dead were that to happen, I assure you."
"Severus, are you suggesting that it could be someone other than You-Know-Who?" McGonagall's pinched gaze met Snape's dark one.
"It must be him. He's clever enough to know he could not match Albus magically. Not on this campus, at any rate. I had assumed I was his only agent here. It appears I was mistaken." The admission did not come lightly.
"Will Albus live?" Giles was not acquainted with the ingredients as well as Snape.
"He should be dead now," Snape said flatly. "Given that he's not, I'd say he has a chance."
"We'll have to tell the school in the morning," McGonagall said, pushing away the morbid thoughts and impending grief.
"Why?" Grey and Willow had walked over in time to hear Snape answer Giles' question.
"What do you mean, why? Of course they'll have to …"
"It's a mistake," Grey interrupted. "The last thing we need is panic or Ministry interference, which is all that will bring. If anyone asks, we can say he was called away on business."
"How long will that realistically hold up, Grey?" Willow asked rhetorically.
He missed the nature of the question. "A few days. Three or four, anyway. Long enough for us to quietly get some additional help."
"Oh right, because this isn't the first shot in Voldemort's big attack plan and he's not going to bang down our door in a day or so," Willow replied darkly. The other faces looked at her in surprise. "Tell me you guys didn't think of that?"
Harry's stomach rumbled at the smell of food. Their homework seemed to have tripled as the term dragged on, and he had spent most of Friday night studying alongside Hermione and Ron. Ginny flitted in and out with words of encouragement, but never stayed long enough to be the distraction that Harry craved.
Things were going well for them. He hadn't realized how alone the Ron/Hermione liaison had him feeling, or how long that he spent by himself, until he began filling his free time with Ginny's companionship. As he entered the hall for Saturday breakfast, he glanced over the nearly empty faculty table and grinned widely at the pair of pretty eyes watching him intently.
Her gaze followed him from the moment he stepped through the dining hall door. Blood rushed to her pale face as he sat down next to her, and she couldn't help but smile in return.
"Hey Gin."
"Hi." She leaned in close to keep the words from her brother's prying ears. "Busy later? Or d'you have no time for some fun with your homework an' all?"
The tips of Harry's ears reddened. Her tone held no hint of the shyness she had always displayed. He was learning that the girl wasn't really shy at all; quite the opposite, in fact.
"'Cos," she went on, "I was thinkin' we could … you know … get a snack or something." She couldn't bring herself to say anything more specific aloud. Even that much innuendo deepened her blush. Her eyes, though, were full of mischief.
"O-okay," Harry said. He still wasn't entirely comfortable around her newfound daring.
She kissed him on the cheek. "Good."
"Aw, will you two quit it with all this cutesy rubbish? Makes me ill."
"Ron," Hermione said, stretching his name out slightly in warning.
"Whot?" His innocent face drew a giggle from Ginny and a head-shake from Harry.
"Like you don't do stuff that's sickening," Ginny teased her brother. "Oh, 'Mione," she mimicked with an exaggerated flutter of her eyelashes, "please don't be mad at me…"
Ron cut her off with a sour glare; the other three laughed uproariously.
"So, Harry," he said, desperate for a subject change, "any word from … our friend?" He inclined his head towards the Slytherin table. "You met him last night, right?
"Yeah, but nothin' yet. He told me last night that nobody in Slytherin seemed to have so much as a clue about it. They all know of the theft, of course, because of Snape, but he said everybody knows less than him about it."
"Maybe it was really somebody tryin' to cheat on their work."
"We've been through this, Ron," Hermione scolded. "First of all, who would steal from Snape? Nobody is that stupid."
"We…"
"Except us," she said. "Besides, that was for a good cause."
"But if somebody was working with …" Ginny lowered her voice considerably, "You-Know-Who, then why wouldn't he have sent the poison to them directly?"
Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged stunned looks. Ginny had a point.
"But with owl post, someone could intercept it," Ron replied.
"You think he doesn't have secure owls? Or that he couldn't put some spell on the thing to keep it safe?"
"So you don't think it's for poison?"
"You know I do, Harry," she answered, "but what I don't know is how we'll find out who has it."
The conversation cut short as the faculty entered en masse. To a person, they looked haggard and wan. Hermione noticed immediately that neither Dumbledore, Tara, or Madam Pomfrey were among them, and her stomach clenched involuntarily. Something bad was happening.
Willow detoured from the group. She leaned over and spoke to Hermione in low tones.
"I need your help this afternoon. Do you remember what we did to Grey's lightsaber before?"
Hermione nodded; she and Willow had handled most of the research for the spells that had been cast.
"We need to zap it again."
"Of course I'll help. Ginny will, too. Why?"
"It didn't work before. It was too powerful. I want to fix it."
"But, I mean, why now?"
Willow's face took on a grim cast. She gestured towards McGonagall, who stood in front of the faculty table. The others stood deferentially behind her as she began to speak.
"Students, may I have your attention please?" She waited until the normal hubbub of a Saturday breakfast ground slowly into silence. "I fear I have some most unfortunate news. Professor Dumbledore has taken ill. We are hopeful, of course, that he will recover, but we feel strongly that it is our duty to inform you that he may not. He would not have wished us to deceive you."
All the lingering whispers and noise flitting around the room halted instantly. Harry gasped; his friends eyes had all gone wide and Hermione's mouth opened in a silent 'o'. Ron realized that they had failed miserably; Dumbledore had been poisoned. Bile rose in his throat and he had the sudden urge to vomit.
"For the time being, I will act as Headmaster in his place. Please direct to me any concerns which ordinarily would have gone to him. Professor Giles will be standing in for me as the Head of Gryffindor house. Once again," she looked over to her house table, "any concerns that might have come my way before, please take to him."
"I know," she went on, "that many of you have questions that at this time we cannot answer. Professor Dumbledore is resting comfortably in the infirmary – we would ask that you not disturb him, and that if you find a trip to the infirmary necessary that you be as considerate as possible of his condition. Now, I suggest everyone finish their breakfast and go about your business as you normally would. Professor Dumbledore would certainly not have it any other way.
The rest of breakfast was eaten in total silence.
The swirling blue light faded as Willow finished the working the new spell on the disc. She held it at arm's length and looked the carving over once more. It seemed undamaged.
"That went pretty well, don't you think?"
Tara smiled, shaking her head at Willow. Hermione and Ginny snickered, feeling their grief and guilt lift for the first time all day. Soot and burn marks from the magic marred the roof around them; Tara's and Willow's robes were askew, and their hair had taken on a decided Don King look.
They lay on their backs silently for a few moments, each feeling drained by the effort and none of them capable of rising. Hermione and Ginny had never actively taken part in such a powerful spell before, and they were amazed at how it drained them.
Willow recovered first. She heaved her sapped arms off of the ground and snapped the disc onto the end of the sword handle. She had felt things work differently this time. Instead of boosting the whole enchantment, they had increased the power of the blade and added a 'swift kick in the ass,' as she called it (to the other girls' great delight), to the speed of whoever wielded it.
"Whatever you say, Will," Tara replied when she had the energy to speak again.
"Quite the show," another voice said, accompanied by a light thump on the rooftop. "I don't think I could've done much better. And that's saying something, believe me." The speaker had watched the light show from the air, admiring how the redhead easily manipulated the whorls of energy. The girl had talent, that was for sure.
The silk of the purple dress swirled among the air currents, bobbing and weaving with the light breeze. Jess crossed her arms in front of her chest and locked her fierce black eyes on Willow.
"A'course, we could find out. How 'bout it, Red? You game?"