A/N: With the posting of "The Ministry Gala", this story has now exceeded 100,000 words. Excellent! This is the first time I've ever had such a nasty cliffhanger and I'm not even dragging it out. I'd just like to say that I'm very proud of this chapter. It gets me every time I read it. Oh, and if you've been reading faithfully but never reviewed, drop me a quick note sometime. My regular reviewers really keep me going, but new people add some lovely spice.
Flybird: How nice to see you in the reviews again! Yes, I had forgotten that you were an H/G shipper. Harry is starting to notice Ginny more. Who can say what the future holds?
totallystellar: You can tell me I'm a wonderful writer all you want and I'll never get tired of it! That dust is still working, but I'm getting through the sections I've already written part of. It'll slow back down just a bit soon. Frankly I think I update a heck of a lot more than most people as it is.
phoenixtearsp322: Thankfully, I have never had a dislocated shoulder myself. I did see a reduction on TV once. It might have been ER but I'm not sure. My parents watched the show occasionally back in the day and I saw a few of them. I looked up some medical webpages to get the treatment down right. About the Singers and wands thing – Bellaton used one when he grew the tree. (I couldn't remember, either.) Oh, and I meant to congratulate you on passing your learner's test a few days ago, but somehow it didn't make it into the author notes. So congratulations! Here's hoping you become a good, considerate driver.
Danae: I can tell you're a romantic at heart. :-)
Raphaelle: Welcome to the story! It sounds like you've been reading for a while. Thank you so much for taking the time to review! Read on and see what happens!
PrphtssP: Welcome to you as well! Thanks for reviewing. I love to see new people voicing their opinions. I hope this update is quick enough for you. Enjoy!
Chapter 30: Be Still My Heart
Harry felt unable to speak or move as the stranger Sang, and Ron seemed equally as frozen. The man's voice was strong and it carried throughout the vast room. Harry vaguely realized that the orchestra had stopped playing, and nearly every other sound quickly ceased.
No one moved a muscle as the Song changed subtly; there was something different about it, but Harry couldn't put his finger on it. The stranger's eyes darted between Harry and Ron a few times, and his voice grew louder. Harry suddenly realized what was different: the man sounded triumphant.
With one ringing note, the Song came to an abrupt end. Harry sucked in a breath, still unable to move, certain that he was about to be struck down. As that last note echoed in the room, the intruder looked away from Harry and pointed his wand straight at Ron. A twisted jet of blackness shot out of it and struck the fifteen-year-old squarely in the chest. Ron was thrown backwards into the wall where he half-stood against it, a look of complete surprise on his face.
The Song had only lasted for a few seconds, but the damage was done. A few people screamed as Ron hit the wall; several wizards rushed forward to seize the man in black, and everyone began shouting. The stranger whirled his cloak about himself and vanished into thin air.
Harry was finally freed of his paralysis. "Ron!" he shouted. Ron's look of surprise had been replaced by one of fear. He had raised one hand to his chest and was clutching at it. Unsupported, he began to slide down the wall. Harry reached his friend and put one shoulder under Ron's arm; he suddenly found himself bearing Ron's entire weight, and he stumbled and almost fell.
Others had reached them now; hands grasped at Ron and stretched him prone on the floor where he lay gasping for breath, still clutching at his chest. Harry knelt beside him. "Back up!" Dumbledore's voice came from very close by. Harry looked up to see the headmaster bending over Ron, his face very white. "Step away, give him room!" he commanded, and the crowd moved backwards to form a watching semicircle, hemming them in against the wall.
Professor Thornby and Bellaton came running up followed closely by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Hermione, Fred, George, Ginny, Bill, and Charlie. The crowd parted to let them through. The professors went straight to Ron, but the Weasleys stopped dead in their tracks. Mrs. Weasley's pained cry tore the air. The others seemed too shocked to speak. Mr. Weasley, his face stricken, pulled his wife closer to him.
More adults had arrived on the scene: Hogwarts professors, the still-disguised Sirius, Fudge and his entourage… The Ministry officials were pushing to get through, arguing among themselves about what was best to be done. Dumbledore, Bellaton, and Professor Thornby conferred rapidly, ignoring the intrusions of the others. The Weasleys and Hermione looked on in silent fear. While all this was going on, Ron was clearly suffering. His free hand groped at the marble floor until it seized a handful of Harry's robes and held on. He seemed unable to speak or breathe. Suddenly he squeezed his eyes shut and arched his back off the floor. Harry instinctively grasped at Ron's arm and felt his friend's muscles straining.
"Help him!" screamed Mrs. Weasley. Ginny burst into tears, and Bill caught her up in a fierce hug.
A commotion began in the watching crowd. Other people were shouting for action to be taken. "Do something!" several of them shouted, Bill and Charlie among them.
"What can anyone do, that man was a Singer…"
"Merlin's beard, what was that curse?"
Professor Thornby laid a hand on Harry's arm. Harry looked up and found her staring back into his face. Harry noted two things in that endless moment: her eyes were far bluer than he'd realized, and she seemed to be trying to tell him something without speaking. There was a flash of heat in his arm where she touched it, she looked away, and time rushed forward again.
Professor Bellaton pointed his wand at Ron. "Mobilicorpus!" Ron floated off the floor, struggling more weakly now. Harry let go of his friend and stepped backward to stand beside Hermione, not wanting to get in the way of whatever they were about to do. Hermione gave him an anguished look, her eyes full of tears, and Harry took her hand and held on. Bellaton quickly turned Ron so that he was upright with his back flat against the wall. His feet dangled a few inches above the floor.
Professor Thornby strode forward, her wand at the ready. She pressed one hand firmly against Ron's chest, drew a deep breath, and began to Sing.
All other sound in the room instantly stopped. The watching crowd stood frozen in complete surprise; no one, it seemed, had known that there was a Singer among them.
It didn't take long for Harry to realize that the song had the rhythm of a heartbeat. Professor Thornby patted Ron's chest in time with the beat, and after a few moments, Ron began to relax. He stopped straining against the wall and simply hung there, supported by Bellaton's spell.
Professor Thornby sang steadily for a minute, and then her one voice became two and then three and four, gaining power and volume the whole time. The watching crowd was completely transfixed. Harry could feel that his own heart was now beating in time with the music; beside him, Hermione raised a hand to her own throat to feel her pulse.
Professor Thornby's spell seemed to have reached a pinnacle. She pointed her wand at Ron's chest, still patting it with the other hand, and a jet of twisted white light shot out of it and into him.
Ron cried out, but the chorus drowned out the sound. Professor Thornby drew back her wand as if she were pulling on a taut string. The blackness that the other Singer had made suddenly sprang from Ron's chest and tangled with the white light that connected her wand to Ron. They grappled with each other for a moment and dissipated like smoke. Ron's body fell limp, Professor Thornby stopped Singing, and Bellaton drifted Ron down to the floor again.
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley rushed forward, followed by their children. Dumbledore bent over Ron, felt at his neck for a moment, then stood back up and nodded. "He's all right," he said. Hermione sagged against Harry. A murmur rippled through the room and the crowd fell silent again. It was so quiet that Mrs. Weasley's soft tears of relief were clearly audible. She and her husband gently gathered their unconscious son into their arms and cradled him close.
Everyone was staring at Professor Thornby, some with awe, some with barely concealed fright. She stood alone a short distance from the Weasley family, still as a statue, meeting the crowd stare for stare.
"Well, Minister," said a cold voice from the edge of the crowd, "aren't you going to arrest her?" Harry shuddered. Oh, how he hated that sound! He looked around to see Lucius Malfoy watching Professor Thornby, a sardonic little smile on his lips. Next to him stood Dolores Umbridge. The horrible look of triumph on her face was almost frightening.
Fudge blinked. "I beg your pardon, Lucius?"
"She has flouted the law," drawled Mr. Malfoy. "Decree number one thousand, one hundred and twenty-two: no person shall employ the ancient art of Singing in any way, shape, or form."
A buzzing sound rose from the watching crowd.
"I have never heard of any such decree," said Dumbledore sharply, looking at Fudge.
"It was signed into law just a few days ago," said Mr. Malfoy silkily.
Fudge seemed to shrink under Dumbledore's glare. "Well, yes, it was," he said, clearly flustered. "We just hadn't gotten around to announcing it yet. Everyone's been rather busy preparing for the Gala, you see." The buzz from the crowd grew louder.
"Too busy to publicize a law, but not too busy to make it," Dumbledore said, his eyes flashing.
"Well, then," purred Mr. Malfoy. "I see no reason to delay."
"No, nor do I," Fudge said briskly, regaining some of his composure. "Macnair? Arroway?" The two men he named moved forward. Umbridge rubbed her hands together in glee.
Professor Thornby stepped back, her wand half-raised. "You can't possibly expect me to go along with this cock-and-bull story," she said bitterly.
Fudge's face darkened. "You don't believe me?"
"No, I don't," she said. "It's rather convenient, don't you think? Almost as if you were expecting something like this to happen." Her eyes shifted from Fudge to Malfoy and back again.
Macnair and Arroway started to move forward once more, but Professor Thornby stretched her wand out before her. The crowd gasped. "Produce the decree, and if Professor Dumbledore is satisfied with its authenticity, I will come quietly."
Fudge puffed out his chest, looking like nothing so much as a bantam rooster. "How dare you threaten me? I am the Minister of Magic, and I do not lie –"
"I would think," Professor Thornby interrupted, her voice flat and hard, "that a woman facing Azkaban would give you pause. She might resort to an act of desperation." She pointed her wand right between Fudge's eyes. "Humor me."
Fudge scowled, but he motioned to someone at the back of his crowd of lickspittles. The Ministry officials shifted around, and Percy Weasley emerged to stand beside the Minister.
Percy glanced down at Ron and his parents on the floor, looking very conflicted. The rest of his siblings looked back at him with expressions of shock.
"Mr. Weasley, go to my office and fetch Decree number one thousand, one hundred and twenty-two," said Fudge in his most pompous tone.
"Certainly, Minister," said Percy, and with another worried glance at his family, he Disapparated.
During the two minutes that he was gone the tension in the room stretched tighter and tighter. Macnair and Arroway made no further moves toward Professor Thornby who remained motionless, her wand still pointing at Fudge's face. Harry wondered how it was that her outstretched arm never trembled.
Finally Percy reappeared with a pop. In his hands he carried a scroll of parchment. He handed it to Dumbledore who unrolled it and began to read. He passed his own wand over its surface a few times and announced, "It is perfectly authentic, Professor."
"Very well," she said, and lowered her arm. In a twinkling Macnair and Arroway seized her wand and each took hold of one of her arms.
Rage welled up in Harry as he watched Macnair leer at his guardian in triumph. He gripped his own wand tightly and began to stride forward only to be jerked backward by Bellaton's hand. Harry hadn't even noticed him come up behind him. Their eyes met, and Bellaton's head gave a tiny shake.
A murmur of disapproval ran through the crowd. "You can't be serious!" cried Professor McGonagall. "She saved that young man's life! How can a born talent be a crime?"
"She chose to exercise it," said Mr. Malfoy.
"This is ridiculous," snapped Professor McGonagall. "You can't arrest her for breaking a rule that she didn't know existed!"
"I don't think this is the time or place to discuss the niceties of the decree," said Fudge quickly. "Of course we will examine this case in detail, but for now I fear we must follow the letter of the law and arrest her."
"There is one more thing before we summon the dementors," said Mr. Malfoy. His small smile widened. "Precautionary measures must be taken when dealing with Singers." He stretched out his hand, waved his wand, and a small black box appeared on his open palm. "You must be silenced."
Professor Thornby jerked violently in her captors' grips. They reacted swiftly, twisting her arms behind her back, but she still continued to struggle. "What?" she shouted.
"There was no mention of this in the decree," said Dumbledore in a very hard voice.
"Oh, didn't I mention the other decree?" said Mr. Malfoy lightly. "Number one thousand, one hundred and twenty-three requires that the voice of any arrested Singer be confiscated. And don't bother asking to see it," he sneered at Professor Thornby. "You're in no position to make demands now."
"Monster!" she spat. "Do what you will - you Death Eaters still won't win."
Mr. Malfoy's face twisted into a snarl. He opened the box and raised his wand. "Down!" he snapped, and Macnair and Arroway forced her to her knees.
Every member of the Hogwarts staff began shouting in protest – everyone but Snape, who was watching Mr. Malfoy with an unreadable expression.
"Do not do this, Cornelius," Dumbledore said gravely. "This is wrong and you know it."
Fudge shook his head. "It is the law," he said stubbornly.
Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. Surely Dumbledore wasn't going to just stand there?
Professor Thornby raised her chin defiantly.
"Intertias vocis!" cried Mr. Malfoy.
Professor Thornby's head jerked back as if she had been pushed. Her mouth was closed, but Harry could hear a jumbled mess of sounds drifting through the air toward Mr. Malfoy; bits of song, laughter, and speech, all tumbled over each other. When the voice stopped moving, Mr. Malfoy snapped the lid of the box shut and the sound was cut off. Arroway let go of one of Professor Thornby's arms, and she raised one trembling hand to her throat. Her eyes were wide and disbelieving.
The great oaken doors at the other end of the hall banged open. Two dementors stood framed in the doorway. They strode forward and the crowd parted to let them through, pressing back as far as they could.
Professor Thornby watched the dementors approach, a defeated expression on her face. Dumbledore leaned over and whispered something in her ear. She nodded but never took her eyes off of the oncoming dementors.
They stopped right in front of her. Harry felt the familiar chill and heard his mother's screams once again. He longed to summon his Patronus right then and there; only Bellaton's viselike grip on his arm kept him from doing so.
Macnair and Arroway raised Professor Thornby to her feet. The dementors took their places and flanked her, taking her arms in their rotting hands. She shivered, closed her eyes, and moved forward with them, leaving the way they had come. Harry watched helplessly, his whole body quivering with the urge to draw his wand and dispose of the dementors, Fudge, Umbridge, and Mr. Malfoy.
When the doors slammed shut again it was as if a Silencing Charm had been lifted from the room. Everyone exploded in talk; people swarmed back into the gap they had made for the dementors to walk through. Mr. Malfoy, Umbridge, and Fudge quickly moved off with a gaggle of other Ministry officials, leaving the stunned Hogwarts professors behind. Only then did Bellaton release his grip on Harry.
Dumbledore looked down at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley who were still on the floor with Ron. "Arthur, Molly," he said, "I think it is time to take Ronald home."
"Yes," said Mrs. Weasley, scrubbing at her damp cheeks. "Yes, let's go."
Mr. Weasley cast a Levitating Charm on Ron who floated up off the floor. Bill and Charlie each took up a position on either side of their brother, keeping him steady as they moved him forward.
Percy was standing a short distance away with Fudge's friends. There was genuine concern on his face as he watched his family go. Fred and George glared at him before following their parents. Ginny said an anxious farewell to Harry and Hermione, and in short order the Weasleys had exited through a side door.
"Harry, Hermione," said Dumbledore. "It is time for you to leave as well. Come with me." They obediently followed him to a deserted cloakroom. Dumbledore reached into his robes, pulled out his magnificent pocketwatch, and set it down on a pile of cloaks. "Portus." The watch trembled slightly and glowed blue for a moment. "This will take you both back to Alverbrooke," said Dumbledore softly. "I will come as soon as I can, but I must deal with a few other matters here, and immediately. I will bring as many of the Weasleys as will join me."
Harry and Hermione nodded their understanding. "Off with you, then," said Dumbledore.
They reached forward to touch the pocketwatch together.
In moments they found themselves in the breakfast room at Alverbrooke. Bellaton was already there, gazing out over the grounds. The moonlight streaming through the large window cast odd shadows on his stony face. He seemed too absorbed in his dark thoughts to notice Harry and Hermione's arrival.
Harry stood dazedly in the middle of the room, all of his attention fixed on Dumbledore's pocketwatch. He ran his thumb over the case again and again, feeling the smooth, polished surface. He wondered vaguely how that one sensation could be so interesting when he couldn't seem to keep any other thought in his head. He was unaware of Hermione breaking down beside him until her first sob shattered the quiet. Pitiful noises sounded from behind her hands as she struggled to regain her composure.
Harry paused awkwardly for a moment, then put his arms around Hermione and pulled her into a hug. She threw her arms around him in turn and wept into his shoulder. Harry could feel her tears soaking through his stiff white shirt.
Professor Bellaton appeared beside them, his hard features softened. "Come now, Hermione," he said gently. "All is not lost. Ron's alive, and we're not going to forget about Celeste." Hermione pulled back from Harry, sniffing, and Harry let go of her. "Sit and have a cup of tea. Everything will be all right."
Hermione allowed herself to be led to a wicker chair. She sank down onto its soft cushion with a sigh, and Harry took the chair next to hers. Bellaton brought them each a cup of hot, strong tea. They accepted wordlessly, and he returned to his silent vigil at the window.
Hermione seemed to have spent all her energy in her flood of tears and drifted off to sleep almost immediately. Harry must have been just as exhausted as Hermione, because the next thing he knew he was opening his eyes to the sight of Dumbledore stepping out of the fireplace. Next to him, Hermione sleepily raised her head from her arms. Sirius and Lupin were sitting in chairs near them. There was an emptiness in Lupin's eyes that made Harry shiver.
The fire roared green, and Mr. Weasley stepped out. Bill, Fred, George, and Ginny followed in quick succession, all of whom looked very tired.
Dumbledore spoke up. "I know it is late, but I do not think that our discussion should wait until tomorrow." There was a murmur of assent, and everyone found chairs.
"Ron is sleeping soundly. Molly and Charlie are sitting up with him," said Mr. Weasley, settling himself in a straight-backed chair from the table.
"Bill, Fred, George, Ginny," said Dumbledore, looking gravely at them over his half-moon glasses, "in light of what has happened, it seems best to me that you should know exactly what Professors Bellaton and Thornby were doing at Hogwarts."
Bellaton did not look up at the many pairs of eyes that were suddenly fixed upon him. "We agreed long ago that telling you might be necessary," Dumbledore continued, "but none of you must repeat this to anyone. You should not even speak of it; it is of utmost importance that Voldemort" – the Weasleys flinched – "does not learn of it. Walls have ears; I cannot impress enough upon you the seriousness of this matter."
"What about Charlie?" said Fred.
"Leave him to me," said Dumbledore. "Now, the beginning of this story most of you will already know, though some of you should not." He proceeded to tell how Harry had been poisoned over the summer; Fred, George, and Ginny blushed like sunsets when Dumbledore's gaze fell upon them. The bit about how Professor Thornby had saved Harry's life and become his guardian, however, was completely new to all four of the Weasley children. Bellaton's role as protector of the rest of the student body was news to them as well.
"Wait a minute," said Ginny. "If Professor Thornby is only supposed to be Harry's guardian, then why didn't Professor Bellaton help Ron?"
Bellaton stood up and began to pace around the circle of chairs. "I think we should explain what happened to Ron before we answer that," he said. "It was John Grayson who attacked your brother tonight. He is one of two Death Eaters – that we know of – who is also a Singer. Grayson used the Heart Stopper curse, also known as Cordesino. The victim's heart stops beating and they perish." Mr. Weasley hid his face in one hand.
"That was the Heart Stopper?" said Fred. "Bloody hell…"
"Yes. I know that Celeste told you about it in class," said Bellaton. "You should also remember that some Songs can be counteracted with regular incantations. This one cannot. I would have performed the counterspell myself but for this accursed sore throat. Celeste had to save Ron, or no one could."
"Why does Voldemort want to kill my little brother?" asked Bill in a very hard voice.
"You can't guess?" said Bellaton.
Harry knew why. "The prophecy," he said.
"That is the most logical explanation," said Dumbledore.
"But it was so vague," said George. "Professor Trelawney never gave names."
"Prophecies almost never involve names," said Lupin flatly. "They need to be deciphered."
"Voldemort arrived at the same conclusion that everyone else did: the prophecy was about Harry, Ronald, and Hermione," said Dumbledore.
"That's not what I meant," said Bill. "What I want to know is why Grayson went for Ron instead of Harry! Surely Harry is a greater danger to You-Know-Who than my brother!"
Sirius' chair creaked loudly. His knuckles were white as he gripped the arms.
"Not that I want Harry to be attacked," said Bill, stretching out a placating hand. Sirius raised one eyebrow, but was satisfied enough to lean back in his chair again.
"I thought he was going for me," said Harry. "He turned at the last second and cursed Ron instead."
"I must admit that I do not know why Grayson settled on Ronald in the end," said Dumbledore. "But nothing is ever simple; killing him was not Grayson's only goal tonight. Celeste was right about one thing – the timing of this 'law'. It was designed to trap anyone who tried to stop the attack, which Lucius would have known about."
"How could Voldemort have known that Celeste was a Singer?" said Lupin coldly.
"I do not think that he did know," said Dumbledore. "It is more likely he has simply had a suspicion that I have Singers allied with me. Voldemort executed a brilliant scheme tonight. Whatever happened after Ronald was cursed, he would emerge victorious. Only another Singer could undo what Grayson had done. If no one stepped forward, then he had successfully killed an enemy. If someone did, then he had unmasked a powerful foe, and imprisoned them to boot."
"How could you let them take Professor Thornby to Azkaban?" said Ginny. "She didn't do anything wrong and everybody knows it. It's not a fair law."
"You are quite correct. The law is most unjust," said Dumbledore. "But think about it, Miss Weasley. Letting Celeste be arrested was better than the alternative. If she went quietly, then we lost her to Azkaban; the only other option for her was to resist. She would have had to fight too many people to succeed on her own, and that would have left me in the position of having to take sides. And if I had fought with her, it would have been a declaration of war against the Minister of Magic. Fudge may not be directly involved with Voldemort, but Lucius Malfoy is whispering in his ear, and I cannot even begin to speculate as to Dolores Umbridge's allegiance. We cannot afford to be in open conflict with Fudge; like it or not, he helms the government and needs little excuse to come after us. We would be crushed between Voldemort and the Ministry, leaving Voldemort's way free and clear."
"So she sacrificed herself," said Sirius darkly.
"In a manner of speaking," said Dumbledore. "It was the best possible outcome for us, as terrible as it was. Ronald is alive and Hogwarts remains a safe haven."
"Does V-Voldemort know about Professor Bellaton?" said Hermione.
"I don't think so," said Bellaton. "It's no secret that Celeste and I are friends, but I did my best to act surprised when she started to Sing. Malfoy barely even glanced at me the whole time. Still, they might figure out that if one of the new Hogwarts professors is a Singer, then the other one might be, too."
"I will tell you now that I will not allow Professor Bellaton to be taken to Azkaban," said Dumbledore. "We need at least one Singer at Hogwarts to protect the students. If such a standoff should occur again – well, we will have no choice but to fight."
Harry was suddenly awash in a torrent of mental warnings. His brain seemed to be shouting at him: Fear! Sorrow! Danger! He pressed a hand to his forehead.
"What is it?" said Sirius, his voice full of concern.
"I think Professor Thornby's in trouble!" Harry exclaimed. "I don't know how I know."
"A Binding works both ways," said Bellaton. "Just as she knows when you're in danger, you know when she's in danger."
"It is most likely that she has just arrived at Azkaban," Dumbledore said heavily. Every one of his years seemed to be weighing on his shoulders.
"What happens to her now?" said Hermione.
"We fight for her release," said Dumbledore. "We will use every legal recourse possible –"
"Legal recourse?" Lupin said harshly. Sirius laid a hand on his arm, but Lupin shook it off. "Fudge will never let her go! Don't you understand that? The only way to get her back is to take her!"
"Be calm, Remus," said Dumbledore. It was clearly not a request. "I understand how you must feel –"
"How can you possibly understand how I feel?" Lupin shouted.
Dumbledore rose to the challenge, his voice full of power and command. "You are not the only one who experienced a loss tonight," he said. The words rolled out of him like thunder. "I have lost many friends and loved ones in the past. If you think my heart unscarred, I will beg to differ."
The others looked back and forth between Lupin and Dumbledore with wide eyes. Lupin held Dumbledore's glare for a moment but gradually faltered under the piercing blue gaze. "I am sorry," he said. "I spoke without thinking."
"There is no need for apologies," Dumbledore said kindly. "Wounds of this sort make us lash out at those we should turn to for aid. Believe me when I say that I will not stop at legal avenues. In fact I do not expect them to succeed, but Celeste will not languish in Azkaban forever. You may be sure of that." His blue eyes flashed, and no one needed him to further articulate what he meant.
"What about Ron and Hermione?" said Mr. Weasley. "This John Grayson chose to attack my son tonight, not Harry, and if he did it because of this prophecy…"
"I'm next," whispered Hermione.
Dumbledore nodded. "The same thought has occurred to me. I will be thinking on this for the next few days. It may be that Ronald and Hermione need to have a guardian themselves. Celeste may be in prison and unable to speak, but the Binding remains, and it cannot be removed in absentia. She will continue to serve as Harry's shield. In her absence, Ardoc will have to be her hands."
"We still have one thing to be thankful for," said Bellaton. "Voldemort doesn't know that Celeste is Harry's guardian."
"More than that," said Dumbledore, "he does not know that Harry has a dedicated protector at all, and this must remain a secret. The only way it would become known is if Celeste had need to truly exercise her powers as his guardian. I do not see how she could do this from inside Azkaban, especially voiceless."
"Won't they want to question her?" said Bill quietly.
For the first time, Dumbledore looked uncertain. "I do not think that they will. Not yet, at least. They would have to restore her voice to enable her to answer questions, and they will not feel safe doing that for some time. She is innocent of any malicious intent, and that means that she will not be as affected by Azkaban as the guilty are."
"You mean she won't suffer?" Harry said hopefully.
"Oh, she will suffer," said Dumbledore gravely. "Everyone who goes to Azkaban does, but the clearer the prisoner's conscience, the more bearable the experience. Remember, the dementors leech the joy out of everything. Their charges inevitably look inward for consolation and only find darkness there. Unlike the guilty, Celeste will retain an inner strength. Lucius will never restore her voice until he is certain that she is broken. She is a very powerful Singer."
Harry felt ill. He could think of ways to "break" Professor Thornby, and she wouldn't need her voice during any of them. In fact, the Death Eaters might prefer silence to their victims' screams.
"Excuse me," Lupin whispered hoarsely, rising from his chair. No one missed the shining streaks that ran down the length of his face as he fairly ran from the room.
Everyone fell silent. After a few long moments of this, Dumbledore suggested disbanding. No one responded.
"Very well," said Dumbledore. "Arthur, I will stop by tomorrow to talk with Molly and Charlie. Ronald, too, if he is awake."
Mr. Weasley nodded. Everyone stood up; a few brief farewells were exchanged, and the Weasleys trudged wearily to the fireplace and Flooed back to the Burrow, one by one.
After they had gone, Dumbledore turned to address Hermione. "Miss Granger, your parents are expecting you home shortly."
Harry thought Hermione looked nervous as she nodded her response. Why shouldn't she be? Voldemort just tried to kill Ron, and he might be after her, too, he thought.
"What can I tell them?" she asked.
"I will be escorting you home tonight," said Dumbledore. "Your parents and I will have a chat before I go. Neither you nor Harry will be taking the train back to Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall will fetch you both herself tomorrow evening. Now, are you nearly ready?"
Hermione said her goodbyes to Sirius and Bellaton. When she turned to Harry tears welled up in her eyes again and she hugged him tightly.
"You'll have to tell me how you live with it," she said, releasing him and wiping her eyes.
"With what?" said Harry.
"Fear," she replied.
Harry smiled bitterly. "See you tomorrow," he said, wishing he could think of something more comforting to say.
"Yeah," Hermione whispered.
Dumbledore retrieved his pocketwatch from Harry and enchanted it once again. He and Hermione each stretched out a hand to touch it and vanished.
A few minutes later Harry found himself lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling. It was perfectly silent in the house, but his mind was still racing like wildfire. He had told no one what had passed between him and Professor Thornby just before she Healed Ron. Even if he had understood what she had been trying to tell him, it had been a quiet moment between the two of them and Harry wasn't keen to share it. What wasn't clear to him was whether or not she could continue to protect him while imprisoned in Azkaban. He doubted it was possible; even Dumbledore had indicated that he didn't think she could do it.
Harry couldn't sleep, haunted as he was by the utter hopelessness that he had seen on Professor Thornby's face that night. The warnings were still assaulting him, but they were growing fainter by the hour. He supposed that they would fade away entirely as Professor Thornby remained in Azkaban and nothing more happened to her. The idea of getting used to a place like that made him feel sick. Harry cast about with his mind, trying to gauge the distance between them, but he couldn't; he could barely sense his guardian at all.
Eventually Harry drifted off in spite of himself, but his sleep was troubled by dreams of Umbridge, Malfoy and Fudge, who were laughing as Professor Thornby struggled to stand beneath a pile of chains.