Sunday, one week later. Valentine's Day arrived, to the dismay of many.

Draco Malfoy was horrified when Pansy Parkinson, blushing madly, presented him with a gaudy heart-shaped ruby ring, which, she explained, would cause him to "always be thinking of me." It took a lot of self-discipline for Goyle and Crabbe to contain their laughter until they could get away from Malfoy.

The caretaker Argus Filch spent most of the day holed up in his office, poring over spellbooks from the Kwikspell Magic Correspondence Course and plotting his revenge on his cat Mrs. Norris' new feline beau, the black cat named Snowball who belonged to Professor Figg.

Professor Figg, for her part, cloistered herself in her office and wept over a white album of her old wedding photographs, while Minerva McGonagall tried vainly to comfort her friend.

At breakfast that morning Ron's Secret Admirer struck again. No one but Harry noticed Hermione's deep frown when a sleek eagle owl deposited a red package in Ron's toast crumbs that morning. Inside was a chocolate layer cake decorated with red cherries that spelled out "Ron".

"Ye gods," said Hermione, staring at it.

Harry picked up the attached note, scented with Enchantment perfume. " 'Darling Ron, Happy Valentine's Day. Think of me.' Well at least she's getting more succinct."

Ron laughed uneasily. "Er..."

"Aren't you going to eat it?" Hermione asked, her gaze dangerously intense.

Ron glanced round the Great Hall and back at Hermione, and then closed the lid of the box. "Maybe later." Hermione beamed.

On Valentine's Day, Harry rolled his eyes so many times he bent his glasses. Ron and Hermione kept giggling nervously for no apparent reason and exchanging secret smiles that Harry couldn't understand. Eventually he left them alone together and went off to find Neville, Seamus, and Dean, whom he assumed were equally alone and glum (Dean having recently said the wrong thing by accident when Lavender Brown had asked if her new robes made her look fat).

As he turned a corner on the way to the Gryffindor common room, he came across a small girl sitting at the foot of a statue of the sorceress Circe, who was depicted holding a pig in her arms and smirking. The girl was reading a large textbook, but she looked up in alarm Harry rounded the corner, and gasped when she recognized him. "What-" Harry said, but he only caught a glimpse of her pale face before she leapt to her feet and fled, her black hair and robes flying out behind her. She accidentally dropped the book as she ran, but did not go back for it. Harry knew her from somewhere, but couldn't quite place her face. He walked forward and picked up the book. "How to Wile a Wizard: Seductive Sorcery for the Woebegone Witch," he read. Puzzled and slightly unsettled, he kept the book and went on to Gryffindor Tower.

He forgot about the episode until that night, when came back from brushing his teeth and found Ron alone in the dorm, sitting on his bed in his pajamas with a fork in his hand. The cake box was open before him and a chunk was missing. He seemed hypnotized.

Harry sat down cautiously beside him. "Ron?"

"It's so strange," Ron said. "I didn't like this Secret Admirer girl at all. I- well, I thought I fancied Hermione. But- I feel almost as if- I *could* like my Secret Admirer. I think I could love her."

Harry was disturbed. "Ron, did you eat the cake?"

"Yes," Ron said dreamily. "Oh, if only I could see her face to face..."

Harry now seized the book that the girl had dropped and looked up Love Potions. Sure enough, there was an entire section called Captivating Cookery: Sneaking Love Into Every Bite. Harry sighed. "You're a fool, Ron... And there are no antidote recipes. I don't know any... I'll have to fetch Hermione."

"Who?" said Ron. Shocked, Harry ran to call Hermione.

Hermione was predictably furious.

"What does she think she's doing?" she fumed as she chopped daisy roots for the antidote, which she remembered from a book. "Love Potions are not allowed at Hogwarts! Everyone knows that. If only I knew who she was, I would report her. Overstepping her bounds... Put this in," she said, thrusting a vial of leech juice at Harry. "She's absolutely mad, putting a forbidden potion in a cake."

Ron woke from his trance and stared at Hermione. "I'm sorry Hermione but I don't like you anymore," he said mechanically. "I'm in love with my Secret Admirer. Forget anything I said to you before. You mean nothing to me." Hermione looked at him mutely, looking hurt. "Now I must go find my real love." Ron jumped to his feet.

Harry quickly drew his wand and aimed. "Stupefy!" Ron fell back on the bed and began to snore. "It's just the Love Potion talking, Hermione," Harry said quickly. "They make people foolish. Or I guess in Ron's case, foolisher."

Hermione shook her head and went back to the potion. "When I figure out who this Secret Admirer girl is..."

"She's small and pale," said Harry. Hermione looked up in surprise. Harry explained about the girl he had seen at the base of the Circe statue and showed Hermione the book she had dropped.

Hermione took the book and flipped through it. "This isn't from the library, I'd know it," she said with certainty. Harry grinned as he stirred the antidote. "Oh, I know, I saw it at Flourish and Blotts once, for fifteen Galleons four Sickles. Astronomical, no? This Secret Admirer must have rich parents, if she can afford to pay that much for a book. And you recognized her but couldn't place her? Well at least we know she's a student." Hermione narrowed her eyes and seethed, "One day I'll get even with her, don't you think I won't."

"The potion's ready," said Harry.

* * * * *

Ron was cured and the cake was disposed of. Hermione forgave Ron his potion-induced obsession, and soon people began coming across Ron and Hermione together everywhere: behind stacks of books in the library, under tables in the Great Hall, curled up in armchairs in the Gryffindor common room, and in every hidden chamber and passageway that they had thought was secret.

"There's nowhere to hide in this whole bloody castle," Ron raged. "I'd kill to be a Death Eater right now, to know where their hiding place is."

Harry didn't like to joke about that. From the dark-circled eyes and frustrated looks of the Phoenixes, he deduced that time was getting short on something; but on what exactly, he did not know.

He knew they were getting somewhat slipshod in the confidentiality of their investigation- the Daily Prophet ran a small side note on the alleged spotting of Sirius Black, escaped mass murderer, at a Quidditch match in Caerphilly. More than anything Harry wanted to clear Sirius' name once and for all. It had occurred to Harry that if Sirius was cleared of charges, he would be free to take on the joint custody of his godson. Harry would have both godparents, and therefore would have two warm homes instead of none. He would never, ever have to face the prospect of living with the Dursleys again. His heart soared at the thought of all that independence- and Sirius' freedom was only one confession away. Not Sirius', of course, but a Death Eater's- any Death Eater who knew of Peter Pettigrew's guilt would do for Harry.

But he particularly had his heart set on Maldora Lestrange. He had a fantasy of himself besting Maldora Lestrange in a wizarding duel, and dragging her in for questioning by Dumbledore, who would later hand him a golden ring as they stood within a circle of applauding Aurors.

"You earned this," Dumbledore would say.

"Your bravery and skill freed me, Harry," Sirius Black would say, joyful.

"Your parents would have been very proud," Arabella Figg would add tearfully. "I'm awfully pleased that you managed to defeat my nemesis Maldora. At last I have closure and can live a happy life."

This was all pure fiction, of course, penned inside Harry's head, and would probably never happen- certainly not with that exact dialogue.

But Harry couldn't get the thought of that golden ring out of his head. He wanted it terribly. His parents James and Lily had had the same goal. If only he could attain that level, he could show the world that he wasn't just a symbolic hero. Hadn't the Sorting Hat said he had a thirst to prove himself? He had defeated Voldemort as a baby, but that was his clever mother's triumph. He had won again against Quirrell and the Basilisk because of that same ancient magic- none of that had been his doing, only Lily Potter's. Even last year in the wizarding duel against Voldemort, his parents had been there to counsel him.

He appreciated their sacrifice and everything they had done for him, but that was between his parents and himself. On the global plane there was still a score to settle. Magic folk everywhere worshiped him for his parents' skills in magic, not his own, and though it usually bothered him little what other people thought, he could not forget the knowledge that he was personally unworthy of his reputation. What had Dumbledore said once? "You too can earn yourself a place among the nation's greatest Aurors." Harry would do it; he would prove that he could be a great wizard of his own right. And he would start by earning a ring from the Order of the Phoenix. Then he would at least feel closer to his parents, if nothing else.

* * * * *

Winter dissipated as soon as it had come. The first Quidditch matches of the year were scheduled for the first weekend of March. Gryffindor played Slytherin in a thick fog, a milky blanket that had settled on the castle with the changing of the seasons. Soon after the match began, the fog lifted, but this only revealed a grey sky heavy with rainclouds, which was little comfort. A torrential downpour began, and fairly pummelled the players with fat stinging raindrops.

It was a close match, and by the time a flash of lightning illuminated the pitch and revealed to Harry's sharp eyes a glint of gold flitting high in the sky, Gryffindor and Slytherin were tied at 80 points. Harry dove at the Snitch, which sped away, followed closely by Harry and Malfoy. The crowd was on its feet cheering wildly as the two Seekers raced in loops and circles, trying to out-manoeuvre each other, arms outstretched towards the Snitch, which danced just beyond their reach.

Both boys had practised extensively in the summer months, Malfoy in the private courtyards of his father's estate, Harry in the playground near Arabella Figg's house. They were both excellent fliers, even when soaked to the bone and exhausted; but in the end it was Harry who took his courage in hand and leaped off his broom to grab the Snitch out of the air just ahead of Malfoy. Harry plummeted forty feet, and was sickeningly reminded of a nightmare he had had of a rigged Quidditch game which had ended in much the same way. But Professor Figg in the stands drew her wand and shouted "Resilire!" and Harry felt the impact of a blue jet of light just before he hit the ground- and rebounded, having been hit by a Bouncing Charm. He bounced off into the corner of the pitch and when he ran out of momentum he lay in the mud, dazed, amid the spectators' cheering and the shrill gurgling of Madam Hooch on her water-filled whistle.

"Gryffindor wins!"

After the match Harry thanked Professor Figg and stumbled off with Ron and Hermione to Hagrid's cabin, where a roaring fire dried their soaked, muddy clothes and a cup of tea thawed their frozen limbs.

"What a c-c-catch that was, H-Harry," Ron said, teeth chattering. "You should have seen Malfoy's face when you grabbed it. He was furious because *he* didn't have the guts to jump off his broom, the spineless louse." He had a fit of laughter that was soon interrupted by a fit of coughing. "Sorry- water in my lungs."

"Ron, have a bite to eat," urged Hagrid, holding out a plate of unappetizing grey rocks. "Shrewbery cakes," he said brightly when Ron recoiled in horror, coughing worse. "From the cookbook you gave me for Christmas." Determined to tactfully improve the cooking Hagrid served them when they came to tea, Harry, Ron and Hermione had splurged on a leatherbound cookbook for their friend, replete with colour illustrations, diagrams, and explicit instructions. Unfortunately it didn't seem to have worked, because Shrewbery cakes were supposed to be delicate, flaky pastries.

Harry touched his bare neck, wet and almost bruised from the stinging rain. "Ouch... Why did make us play in this rain anyways?"

"They want to finish the Quidditch season early," Hermione said, pouring him a cup of tea. "They're getting short on time."

After a fraction of a second, Hagrid chuckled nervously. "What are yeh talkin' about, Hermione?" He glanced at Harry, who returned his look of consternation. He didn't remember having said anything to Ron and Hermione about the Order of the Phoenix.

Hermione didn't notice their silent exchange, occupied with thumping Ron on the back. "Have you all forgotten? The O.W.L.'s are coming in June!"

Hagrid let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, the O.W.L.'s. None of yeh need to worry about those, you're all clever little devils."

"But Professor McGonagall said that Gryffindor hasn't gotten more O.W.L.'s than Slytherin in twenty years!" cried Hermione- O.W.L.'s were a subject very close to her heart. "We must beat them this year."

"Ravenclaw always gets the most, why aren't you trying to beat them?" Ron said.

"I want to beat them too," Hermione said. "I must get the most O.W.L.'s in our year."

"No worries there, Hermione, you're the cleverest witch in Europe," chuckled Hagrid.

"Are the O.W.L.'s international?" Harry asked, interested.

"Of course," said Hermione. "The O.W.L.'s are standard exams for students our age round the globe. Even witches and wizards who don't go to a magic school like Hogwarts, like the home-schooled ones or the ones who enter skilled trades, can take the exams."

Harry smiled at the thought of acne-ridden Stan Shunpike, conductor of the Knight Bus, struggling to write a three-foot essay on the bombastic alchemist Paracelsus.

Ron said, "Don't worry, Hermione. We still have over four months to study for the O.W.L.'s."

"I wouldn't brush it off like that, Ron," cautioned Hagrid. "Four months goes by fast. The O.W.L.'s test everything you've learned in your five years at Hogwarts, and they'll be important when you're going into a career, especially as an Auror or in the Ministry."

As he mentioned Aurors Hagrid's gaze dropped to Harry. Again the secret of the Order of the Phoenix was between them. Hagrid knew without being told how badly Harry wanted to be a Phoenix, just like Hagrid himself wanted. Harry's O.W.L. scores would probably be a crucial factor in the Phoenix selection process.

"I think I might want to be an Auror," Ron said thoughtfully. In his head he saw himself, brilliant and feared, duelling Death Eaters and gaining worldwide recognition.

"That would be such a thrilling career," Hermione said, her eyes shining. She too saw herself battling Death Eaters, using complicated spells she had read about in books to outwit her enemies.

Harry only nodded. He was thinking of his parents and their last battle.

Rubeus Hagrid looked at the three of them, lost in their fantasies. Their futures would be bright, were it not for the threat of perpetual darkness menaced Lord Voldemort. Hagrid absently gnawed on a Shrewbery Cake and let himself drift into a daydream in which he blasted Death Eaters with his pink umbrella and won back the honour of his name, which Rita Skeeter had blackened the year before. He would show the world that Rubeus Hagrid was as magic as any pureblood. They would all see what a half-giant wizard could do. Then Hagrid spit out his Shrewbery Cake.

"Eurgh! Too much dandelion flour."

* * * * *

It was April. The Easter holidays had begun and, as there were no Easter festivities being hosted by the school, most students were going home to their parents.

The Weasleys travelled en masse back to the Burrow. Harry was invited, but he felt it would be wrong to encroach on their family's quality time. Hermione was also heading home for a week. She and Ron felt bad for not realizing that both of them were going away, because traditionally at least one of them stayed at Hogwarts with Harry, who did not want to return to the Dursleys' and was certainly not welcome there. But Harry told them they had been his caretakers long enough, and said he would be fine.

But it was hard not to feel lonely. Neville Longbottom was going home to his grandmother, Dean Thomas was taking the train to the seaside at Southampton, Seamus Finnigan was returning to Ireland, and Lavender Brown was visiting an aunt in Suffolk.

Even Hagrid was taking off for a holiday in Wales. He left early on the Hogwarts Express on the first day of holidays, grinning, winking, and dropping numerous disquieting hints about Welsh Green dragons on a reserve north of Cardiff.

Parvati Patil and Harry were the only Gryffindor fifth-years left at Hogwarts. Harry privately felt very anxious. It would be easy for someone to sneak in and kill him in the middle of the night, and no one would find his corpse for days.

At night Harry and Parvati stayed up late playing wizard chess (Parvati usually won) or Exploding Snap (neither of them was very good at this game, so it typically ended with a lot of soot and smoke). The last night before the other students came back to Hogwarts, Parvati went to sleep over at her twin sister's dorm in Ravenclaw, and Harry went to bed early. He was wakened, however, in the middle of the night, by the sound of wood knocking to the floor and someone falling with a muffled yelp. Someone was downstairs in the common room.

He tiptoed to the top of the stairs and at first, stooped to hide and peer down, but then, seeing who it was, straightened up and said, "What are you doing?"

The small pajama-clad figure sitting on the floor by an overturned footstool, clutching her shin, looked up in surprise, her dark hair partially obscuring her face. "Harry?" said Niamh Giffard.

"Where are you going?" Harry whispered, descending the stairs.

"I had a vision," Niamh said, standing and moving towards him. "It was Hagrid."

Harry's stomach lurched. "What about Hagrid?"

"He was afire!" She threw both hands above her head to illustrate an aura of flames. "Pain... and fire, everywhere, burning him. I want to tell Professor McGonagall."

"But the board of trustees will have you expelled," said Harry, shocked.

Niamh bit her lip. "Yes."

"It was just a bad dream," Harry pleaded. Certainly he himself worried about Hagrid, and he often had horrific dreams of his own, but his nightmares stemmed from an ancient magic bond that was unique in the entire world. Niamh's dreams could not possibly be reality, like his were. And he didn't want Niamh expelled for having frightened other students, which was what she was doing to him. "It was your imagination."

"It was a vision!" Niamh insisted. "I know it was!"

"Hagrid is fine," Harry said, but even as he spoke the words he doubted them. Hadn't Hagrid himself been mentioning that Welsh Green dragon colony for weeks before he'd left? Still, Hagrid had sent a letter the day before yesterday, saying he was enjoying himself and would be back at Hogwarts the same day as Ron and Hermione. The likelihood of his being in danger was low, wasn't it? "He'll be back tomorrow morning, Niamh."

"But I wouldn't be able to live with myself if he wasn't!" cried Niamh.

There was a thump from the prefects' dormitory and a groggy, "Who's there? What's that shouting?"

"Niamh, it was just a dream," implored Harry, backing up the staircase. "Come on."

Footsteps, as a bleary-eyed prefect stumbled down the hall. Niamh made her decision and ran for the stairs after Harry.

Very early the next morning the Hogwarts Express pulled into Hogsmeade station. Harry was wakened by Ron jumping on his bed, bursting with news of the Weasley family. Hermione joined them in the Entrance Hall, and they talked excitedly over breakfast.

"Bill's been given a promotion, he's assistant executive of his department now," said Ron. "And Percy's finally moved out of the Burrow, he's sharing a flat in London with another Ministry aide. And Charlie got stuck by a dragon with Horntongue, he came home with a scar the size of Ireland..."

The post owls flooded the air overhead and a tawny owl delivered a Daily Prophet to Hermione as she told Harry that her parents' dentistry practice was successful and had even expanded.

"It's nice to know at least someone is doing their part to fight cavities," Harry joked.

Hermione giggled as she unfolded her newspaper, then screamed out loud and fainted.

Ron and Harry jumped up and leaned over the table in alarm. Hermione lay on the floor, eyes closed, the paper still lying in her open hand. Then someone else screamed, and George Weasley, reading his own newspaper, gave a yell that alerted the entire school to the source of the anguish.

"Hagrid's been in an accident!"

Harry and Ron froze, staring at each other. Then they both leaped over the table at once and grabbed for Hermione's Daily Prophet, on the front of which was a large old photo of smiling Hagrid. Lying on the tabletop, a plate of sausages soaking the front of his robes, Harry held the newspaper with Ron and read, with a coldness growing in the pit of his stomach, the article splashed across the front page.

'HOGWARTS GAMEKEEPER INJURED IN FIERY DISASTER

At nine-twenty-five yesterday evening, an Engorged stretcher was pushed into the Emergency Ward at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. On the stretcher, being tended even in transit by frantic mediwizards, was one Rubeus Hagrid, half-giant and groundskeeper of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Hagrid was severly burned from an encounter with a full-grown Common Welsh Green dragon.

Hagrid had been holidaying for a week in Wales, staying at the wizard inn Myrddin Manor in Cardiff for Hogwarts' Easter break. Yesterday was to be the last day before the half-giant, whose tragic history was reported by the Daily Prophet's Rita Skeeter in the May -- edition, returned to Hogwarts. Myrrddin Manor's innkeeper, Dewi Gwartney-Jones, stated that Hagrid told him early yesterday afternoon that he had saved the best part of his holiday for last, his "seein' the dragons in the colony up north."

Gwartney-Jones expressed surprise at Hagrid's apparent enthusiasm for dragons, for whom a reserve was founded in 1794 in the Brecon Beacons, a mountainous area that is the creatures' natural home but also happens to be a popular tourist site for Muggles.

Hagrid left the hotel 20 minutes after 1:00 p.m., "grinning and beaming as if Halloween, Christmas and his birthday were all come at once," says Gwartney-Jones. Hagrid apparated from the hotel to the entrance of Penrhadw Farm, the reserve for dragons of the Common Welsh Green variety. Penrhadw Farm is known in the Muggle community as a sheep farm; what Muggles do not know is that the sheep are food for the dragons. At Penrhadw Farm, visitors are, like the dragons themselves, free to wander the open grounds as they wish, provided they do not come within one hundred yards of a dragon or dragon's nest.

Hagrid entered Penrhadw Farm at 1:30 p.m. and roamed the reserve alone, observing the dragons and watching in particular the largest specimen at the farm, a 50-year-old female named Rigantona. According to witnesses, Hagrid stooped on the path near Rigantona's nest to retrieve an egg that had fallen and rolled away from the nest unnoticed, saying "I'll jus' put this little one back". When the mother dragon saw her egg in his hands, however, she became enraged, believing Hagrid was trying to steal the egg. She descended on him in splenetic wrath, allegedly firing fifteen-foot columns of fire at Hagrid.

By the time Rigantona could be subdued and Hagrid rescued, the giant had sustained horrific burns covering some 75% of his considerable structure. He was transported to St. Mungo's as fast as possible, where surgeons operated on the giant all night. The extent of his injuries has not been made public, but in the opinion of an anonymous source inside St. Mungo's, Hagrid "was burned up pretty bad" and has "a distinct chance of losing his life."

Could this disaster have been prevented? "Extenuating circumstances must be accounted for," says Penrhadw Farm owner Blodwen Bobbett.'

Harry couldn't read any more. He slowly slid back onto his chair. He could not see or hear anything. Everything was blurred like in ancient dredged-up memories. Hermione had been roused by Alicia Spinnet and was crying on her shoulder. Ron continued to lie across the table as if dazed.

The click of a door opening reached Harry's ears, muted like underwater sounds. He looked up and saw Albus Dumbledore unobtrusively moving into the Great Hall from the door behind the teachers' table. As soon as he entered everyone stood up, waving their newspapers and clamouring for an explanation. Dumbledore gained his normal place at the table and held up his hands for silence.

"Please be calm. I too have only just received the news of Rubeus Hagrid's accident. He personally dictated the message, which means the injuries cannot have been too adverse. He writes to say not to believe the Daily Prophet because the surgery was successful and though he is in pain, he is healing well. He apologizes for the delay of his return.

"If you would like further information, please speak to me and I can contact Hagrid at St. Mungo's Hospital for you."

The formerly excited atmosphere in the Great Hall was now subdued and hushed, as if the ailing Hagrid were present, listening. Only the obstreperous Slytherins carried on like normal, shouting boisterously, deliberately raucous to disrupt the others' anguish. Harry wanted to hex them for their disrespect.

In Charms, the last class of the day, Professor Flitwick handed Harry a folded note. "To Harry, Ron, and Hermione: Please come to my office after classes. -Professor Dumbledore."

After Charms, the three made their way to Dumbledore's office. The gargoyle saw them coming and stepped aside. The moving staircase transported them up to the great oak doors of Dumbledore's office, and Ron knocked.

"Come in," called the Headmaster, and they entered. Dumbledore was standing by the open window, an owl perched on his shoulder. "Good afternoon," he said, and sympathetically, "How are you?"

"Fine," said Hermione in a small voice. Earlier Madam Pince had treated the lump from when she had hit her head, fainting.

Dumbledore smiled at her. "You look greatly distressed."

"Hagrid is our friend," said Harry listlessly. He had had a numbness on his heart the entire day, preventing him from feeling any emotion whatsoever.

"I understand - Hagrid is a good friend to all of us, and it's always hard to have a friend go under the surgeon's wand. But Hagrid said himself that he is on the road to recovery, and that he would like to have his closest friends by his side."

Ron jumped. "We can go see him?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Saturday, if you like. Hagrid only awaits your answer."

"Tell him yes!" Harry said, feeling the coldness begin slipping off his heart in his growing excitement.

Dumbledore held out a parchment and quill. "You tell him."

Five minutes later the eagle owl from St. Mungo's Hospital departed with a missive scrawled in three handwritings, expressing their eagerness to see Hagrid again, and Harry, Ron and Hermione ran back to Gryffindor Tower, elated by the prospect of their upcoming journey.