A/N – Sorry about the late update – I haven't had access to an Internet connection (beyond the restraints of a pricey cybercafe) because of holidaying over New Years, and now I'm flat-out busy at Media Design School in Auckland. It's crazy I tell you! Crazy!
Anyway, I hope this keeps you sated for a while…
Chapter 12: A World of Change
Ginny still wasn't talking to her brothers, on account of their determination to leave her out of any rescue plans. Although her own resolve to find a way to help was strong, she still found herself often feeling at a loss – much of her time in the Gryffindor Common Room was spent brooding in an armchair by the fire, and in class it had been noticed that she was generally more absent-minded than usual. Professor Snape had noticed her vacant expression during a lesson, so had given her the added task of writing a 3-foot long essay on the properties of the Revelare Potion. It was this that had brought her to the library later that afternoon. Snape had droned on for what seemed like days about the actions, ingredients and precautions of this potion that revealed marks…or something like that…Ginny couldn't remember. Showed a traitor? Ginny had surmised that it was some sort of magical tracking collar on whoever took the potion.
The sight of such a number of books spread before her, yet little written on the parchment, caused her to groan softly as she despairingly propped her elbows on the tabletop of the cubicle and laid her face in her hands.
"Well, you sound pretty confident about it," came a low tone from on the other side of the cubicle.
"Of course I'm confident," came the equally muted reply, and Ginny recognised the voice as belonging to James Forscythe, the Slytherin Seeker. She strained to hear the conversation that was sounding decidedly suspicious. "I know that You-Know-Who has some plan."
"And your father's confident in this, too?"
"He's still a little sore over You-Know-Who killing my uncle, but I'm sure he believes it too. He wouldn't dare do otherwise."
Ginny concluded that the discussion was between the sons of two Death Eater families, and held her breath in hopes of hearing something that may give a clue as to where Harry was, or what Voldemort was going to do.
"So what's his plan?" James' companion said, still in a quiet whisper. "My father says he's not telling anybody. So how do you know?"
"Well," James whispered back, "I don't know exactly, but-" he stopped as he heard a small sound from across the room, but deciding it to be too far away for someone to be in earshot, he continued, "but You-Know-Who's confident in whatever he's done - he believes it will bring Harry to him."
There was a small gasp, and Ginny hoped that it hadn't inadvertently come from herself. Apparently not, as James' companion sounded suitably stunned as he responded, "But I heard there's a Concealment Charm in place – You-Know-Who shouldn't be able to know where Harry is, so how could he put a spell on him?"
James sounded puzzled as he admitted, "I don't know. Maybe he hasn't. But he has a plan, and whatever it is, he's started it. And judging by his mood in the past day, it's working."
The gasp came again, but this time Ginny was certain it wasn't from her – she was too frozen in shock to make a sound.
"Shh!" James reprimanded his friend in a harsh whisper. "Don't be so loud – we shouldn't be talking about this here anyway! Let's go, and I'll meet you in the Common Room later."
There was shuffling as the students moved away from their seats and headed back across the library. Ginny saw from their retreating backs that it was indeed James who had been one of the speakers, and the other was some Slytherin student she didn't recall seeing before.
She tried to get back into writing her essay for Snape, but after several minutes concluded that she couldn't possibly concentrate on it after she'd just heard that snippet of conversation. Voldemort didn't have Harry! This news brought her joy lasting only as long as it took her to realise that apparently it seemed he had found a way to get him. In panic, she hurriedly packed up her things – she could finish the essay later, she reasoned. After all, Snape had given her until the following Friday to hand it in. She briskly left the library with her immediate destination in mind – the large gargoyle statue to the Headmaster's office.
~~
"That was really interesting," Hermione exclaimed. "I'm really glad we were able to see the feeding of the creatures in that big central tank."
Ron shuddered a little. Evidently sharks didn't make him feel any more secure than spiders did. And watching them savagely eat the particles rationed to them hadn't done much to reassure him.
Trina smiled in amusement at Ron before looking up. "Thanks, have a good afternoon," she said to the woman behind the desk as they walked past.
The group of four walked back out of the Aquarium and into the sun. It had sufficiently warmed the air by now, and Ron basked in the shark-free warmth before enquiring, "Where's Tony?"
Trina glanced over the knee-high log fence and down the beach, to see that Tony had indeed gone. "Maybe she went into town," she suggested. She withdrew her cellphone from her green carry bag and soon it was emitting a copious amount of short beeps as she pressed the front of it.
"What are you doing?" Ron asked.
"I was going to call her," Trina explained, but it's Saturday so it would be more expensive. I'm Text Messaging her instead."
This made no sense to Ron, but he didn't pursue the topic. He only looked with a confused expression to Harry, who was smiling a little at his naivety.
The phone made a melodious bleep as the text message was sent, and Trina looked up in thought. "I don't know how long it will take for her to get back to us," she said, "so what shall we do in the meantime?"
"Can we just sit?" Ron moaned.
"Not a bad idea, really," Trina concurred. "We'll just sit on the beach until Tony – and presumably Draco is with her – gets back. Let's go."
With that said, the youths walked down amongst the stone and driftwood until they found a comfortable looking spot to sit, about halfway down the beach.
"Beaches are better when they have sand," Ron piped up with his opinion. "You can't make sandcast- I mean, cool stuff, out of stones and shingle."
"We have a sand beach too – 'Ocean Beach'," Trina justified, and Harry grinned at the name. "Yeah, I know – real imaginative," Trina said sarcastically. "Surfers go there, because sometimes there are big waves there that don't come to this coastline." In the following silence, she picked up a smooth round stone and tossed it gently up in the air a couple of times before throwing it away.
The silence stretched on indefinitely. Whether it was because no one could think of something to say, or whether they were preoccupied thinking about things was anyone's guess. Maybe it was both.
Trina was the first to voice a thought. "Are you and Draco going to be in a constant spat for as long as we stick together?" she asked. The Gryffindor three all looked at her, and then at each other, unsure of how to respond. "Coz that will really make things difficult," Trina added.
"He's Malfoy!" Ron answered indignantly, as if this explained everything.
"Ok, and now that you've made sure I know his name, will you answer the question?"
Ron adopted an incredulous expression and opened his mouth to speak again but Harry interrupted him. "He starts it. I know that sounds childish," he admitted quickly to Trina when he saw her giving him the same look she'd given Ron, "but for as long as he provokes the arguments, they won't go away."
"I'm not asking them to go away," Trina said. "I used to be in school too – I know a nemesis doesn't become a friend simply on request." She watched a seagull alight close to her and ponder her for a moment. As if realising she didn't have any food scraps to toss to it, it flew away, and Trina resumed, "School is where you learn so much more than just what comes from a book – it's where you learn how to appreciate those who like you, and how to manage those who don't. In an effort to survive this social development, students will form packs, whether they intend to or not, and those in the pack will show loyalty to its other members, regardless of whether or not they're in the wrong."
Hermione said determinedly, "All friends should be loyal."
"Yes," Trina agreed, "they should. But that loyalty should be given only when it's deserved – it's not an obligation or a right."
"What does this have to do with Malfoy?" Harry asked.
Trina mused quietly while pondering how to phrase her answer. "I'm saying that what you and Draco have – this back-and-forth trading game of insults and sour expressions – may in actual fact have little to do with personal prejudice at all, but rather just a constant 'payback' for what the other person did previously." She looked pointedly at Harry. "Harry, tell me something – why do you, and I mean you specifically, hate Draco?"
Harry's brow drew together into a frown as he thought of all Draco's negative actions towards them. "He insults my friends for no reason."
A bemused smile tugged at the corner of Trina's mouth, and she looked out over the sea as she spoke again. "Does he, now?" she said, but it didn't sound like a question. "How do you know whether or not he has reasons? Have you discovered a way of getting into someone's head?"
"Of course not!" Harry responded. "But we don't deserve what he gives us! He just assumes we're rubbish and inferior to him – people should be known for who they are before they're cut down!"
Trina so abruptly turned her head to face them again at these words that Harry ran his words through his mind to see if he'd said something unusual. He couldn't see what, so he settled for looking puzzled.
"Exactly," Trina said. "And that's what it all comes down to." The confused faces only looked more lost, so Trina drew the conversation to the very beginning of their Hogwarts life. "Tell me, who was the first person to start this conflict between you all? And, what was it?"
"Malfoy," Harry said. "He was arrogant and when I first met him he said that Muggle-borns weren't good enough, and he mercilessly insulted Ron and the Weasley family on the train on our first day."
Trina looked thoughtful. "I'm not going to pretend to know everything that happened," she said, "but so far it seems that the books detailing your adventures have been reasonably accurate. So I just may be right…"
"What's right?" Hermione asked her to clarify.
Trina shifted herself in the stones to get more comfortable as she prepared to explain. "Harry, you first talked to him in the Robe Shop, right?"
"Right," said Harry, still a little unnerved that a stranger knew the finer points of his life due to a novel release.
"Who started the conversation between you two – you or him?"
Harry could tell from Trina's face that she knew the answers to the questions she was asking, but she must have wanted him to come to a conclusion himself, rather that her just tell him her theory. Harry felt slightly uneasy under this questioning. He wasn't sure he wanted to know how it was going to end. He felt a little like he was in a courtroom.
"He did," he said, tonelessly.
"And he started a conversation with you before he knew if you were Muggle-born or not?"
Harry frowned. "But in the conversation he made it clear that he was spoiled rotten and he said that Muggle-borns shouldn't be allowed at Hogwarts."
"Spoiled rotten, huh? Well of course – considering the family's wealth, it's not like he has a choice." She adopted an expression from which Harry could tell she was about to ask another question she already knew the answer to. "What's the one thing Draco always says, to back up threats or to use as a reason for something to be true?"
Harry's brow furrowed in thought, but the answer eluded him.
"It's always something along the lines of, 'Father says…' isn't it?" Trina stated rhetorically. "He's given the best of everything because it's what his father thinks he should have, he believes the things his father taught him as truth, and he says and does things that his father tells him is in his place to do. He's little more than an extension of his father, because of the limits imposed on him by his father and by his status."
Trina's voice had grown a little louder while saying this, as if this would help prove a point. Her voice lowered again and she said, "What can you tell me about Draco that's not a report of his efforts to uphold an image? What does he like to do at Hogsmeade? What does he hope to get each Christmas? What's his favourite childhood memory?"
A resounding silence was all Trina was returned. She turned back to stare over the rippling water and watched the thin tendrils of the tide grope the shore as they climbed the beach. "So all this time," she summarised quietly as if talking to herself, "you've been hating a stranger."
This goaded Hermione into speech. "He may have been told many wrong things by Lucius Malfoy," she reasoned, "but he still knows what behaviour is just plain nasty. If he was really a good guy, he wouldn't say half the things he does."
"Oh, I'm not saying he's a good guy," Trina assured her. "I agree that a lot of what he said was totally unnecessary. But when was he offered the opportunity of something different? Did any of you offer friendship?" She remembered something about this so before she could get an answer she continued in a voice so quiet the Gryffindors almost had to strain to hear, "No…you didn't did you…but not just that, you refused it when he tried…" She turned to face them again and said, louder this time, "if you refuse to throw someone a lifeline when they ask for one, you can't be surprised when their ghost haunts you for letting them drown."
The part of Harry's brain that wasn't trying to process all this – the part that was still adamantly against Draco Malfoy – prompted him to say, "Well if he wanted to be friends with us, he didn't go very well about it. And why was he sorted into Slytherin then?"
"Why weren't you?" Trina said, and Harry almost visibly flinched. "You asked the Sorting Hat not to put you there. Dumbledore told you about the importance of choices. Draco undoubtedly would have wanted to be put in the house that his father wanted him in. He may not have actively chosen it himself." She picked up a piece of driftwood and started aimlessly shifting stones around with it. "You also said you hated him for insulting Ron when he came to see you on the train – the second time he'd tried to befriend you, I might add. What made him do that? Insult Ron, I mean."
It seemed the conversation had long since been just between Trina and Harry, so Hermione and Ron had been sitting quietly listening. Hermione had been engrossed in thought at what they were saying, although Ron's silence was mostly due to incredulous fuming.
"His father telling him Ron wasn't important?" Harry guessed.
Trina turned her attention from the driftwood and back at Harry. "He laughed." Her gaze travelled to Ron, and she now directed her speech at him. "Didn't you, Ron? You laughed at his last attempt to befriend someone outside of his father's circle of importance and influence."
Ron's brewing anger now exploded. "He asked for it! He thinks he's all that! He gets the best of everything and we can't afford it, and he just loves to taunt me mercilessly about it! You can't blame me for making him feel bad! If that's what I did, I'm glad I did it!"
"Perhaps," Trina started, "and I'm not saying this is the case, but just perhaps…there's a reason he keeps mentioning his wealth. He flaunts what he has, and yet he is still bound by the etiquette set by his father. He sees that you can't have the things his money can buy, but you still have the things he wants – a friendship beyond a Sons-of-Death-Eaters-United club, and you're a lot happier than he is. His money is dictating who he can be, to a degree – and it's all he has."
"Ha!" Ron said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Are you saying that Draco "Look-at-me-I'm-God" Malfoy could be jealous of a Weasley for being poor?"
Trina looked at him seriously. "Golden gem-studded chains are still chains."
In the following silence that seemed even heavier than Ron's yelling, Hermione finally said, "You'd thought lots about this, hadn't you?"
"Actually, no," Trina corrected her. "It was a theory that Tony came up with over time. When I heard it, I thought it was stupid too, but when it's fully explained I think it's quite plausible." She looked at Ron as she added, "…unless you're already convinced of your opinions and refuse to accept alternatives."
Trina sighed as she looked out over the sea again. "It was just a thought. Wow," she said. "I really went off onto a tangent, didn't I? I really didn't intend to get into all of that now. As I was saying at the beginning, I know it's relatively normal for you and Draco to be at each others' throats at Hogwarts – but when you're on the other side of the world and your very life could be at someone else's mercy, do you really want to be devoting you energies to avenging someone for an impression they fixed in your minds when they were an 11-year-old boy?"
"I'll stop it if he does," Harry said, bitterly.
Trina lay back against the smooth stones and closed her eyes. "That's good enough for me."
~~
The Great Hall was full of the usual clamour at dinnertime. Students busily talked to one another while managing to fill their mouths at the same time and Dumbledore looked serenely down at them all, although tonight his eyes were a little less jovial.
The arrival of three public owls surprised many of the students into stopping to watch. The mail usually arrived in the morning at breakfast. This must have been something important.
The owls circled the room slowly before gravitating toward the Gryffindor table, where each of them dropped the envelope they had been carrying in front of the intended recipients – Fred, George, and Ginny.
The twins were looking at each other in confusion as they held their letters, and Ginny cowered under the intensely curious gaze of the other students. For a moment she thought she'd just pocket it, and open it later in the privacy of her dorm where there weren't so many curious faces directed at her, but upon seeing her brothers unsealing theirs, and hearing the urging from her nearby housemates, she open the envelope and withdrew the parchment from inside. From what she saw of her brothers' letters, they all looked to be the same, only with different names at the top. Ginny held the parchment close to her and hunched her shoulders slightly as she looked down at her copy, in an effort to hide what it said from prying eyes:
Ginny dear,
I have just heard the most alarming news about Ron, Harry and Hermione. I am absolutely appalled that Dumbledore was not able to stop them being taken – and from Hogwarts too! I certainly don't want any more of my children there since your safety obviously cannot be assured.
I am most distressed at this, but your father convinced me not to send a howler as it may cause unnecessary attention if there are any who don't know about what has happened, although I'm sure it's known by everyone over there.
Ginny asserted that the real reason was to save her and her brothers from additional embarrassment, and she mentally thanked her father.
I have sent an owl to Dumbledore requesting your immediate removal from the school until this is solved and Ron, Harry and Hermione returned. I shall organise a tutor to supervise you in your studies.
You'll be escorted to a Portkey from Hogwarts tomorrow morning. I do hope nothing terrible happens before then.
Love always,
Mum.
Ginny was incredulous. Leave Hogwarts? She looked to her brothers who had obviously finished reading their letters too and where now looking at her with equal shock. Expectant and curious students were straining to see over their shoulders, and Ginny quickly folded up her letter and pocketed it, refusing to tell her housemates what it said, much to their disappointment. Her brothers were doing the same.
Dinner was rather tasteless from then on, so after a short while Ginny mumbled a goodnight and left the table early.
~~
Trina, Hermione and Harry were roused from their sun-kissed doze by a shocked yelp from Ron. His immediate expression was one of intimidation, and Trina and the other Gryffindors turned to see what he was looking at.
"Do…you…want…a…drink?" the object of his shock repeated slowly to Ron, and waved a bottle hypnotically in front of his face.
Dark sunglasses hid the eyes of this newcomer, but the short wax-laden rich-blue hair was enough of an intimidation, even without the suspicious offer of the unlabeled bottle with a dark spitting liquid in it. Ron's eyes warily travelled over the stranger – whom he'd determined was a girl, as her dark sleeveless top stopped a little above her bellybutton to display a diamond-stud, and her overall body shape was decidedly not masculine, even though her large black pants lacked a feminine style, with their various zips and pockets.
"Oh, for Pete's Sake, boy," she said, exasperatedly. "It's just Coca-Cola – it won't kill you." She sat down with them and took a large gulp of the drink, just as the blond figure of Draco Malfoy meandered down the stones to join them.
"Oh my God!" Trina exclaimed. "Look at you – like the old days!"
The 'stranger' took her sunglasses off, and Tony's blue eyes – now somewhat muted by the deepness of her hair colour – looked at them, amused. "I really missed this – having blue hair. It will always be my natural hair colour, in my mind. I had to change it when I started at the vet's, coz apparently it would scare away all their clients and make the old ladies think I'm out to kill their children."
"You spent the last few hours getting new clothes, your hair changed, and a belly-button piercing?" Harry asked, still adjusting to the new image.
"New belly piercing?" Tony responded. "No, I've had this since I was…um…15? I think. It just doesn't often get shown. And I figured the 'posh-and-friendly tidy-casual' clothes I had before, clashed with the hair."
From Hermione's expression, it could be assumed that she was of a sceptical opinion on Tony's look.
"This was your 'thought' you had on the way over here, wasn't it?" Trina surmised. "Change your look back to what you wanted now that you don't have a boss to stop you?"
"What you said," Tony said with a smile. "Besides, this look works for me – mothers keep their little children close when they see me, so they don't get in my way, and you should see the way the crowds part when I come striding on through – who needs a wand when I have anti-magnetic force?"
"There's the downside that cops distrusted you on principle, though," Trina said. "And you were stopped at almost every store exit."
Tony shrugged. "Everything has a cost, I guess." She took another gulp of the fizzy-drink. "Besides, I thought it was hell funny when they searched my bag and never found anything – they always looked rather guilty for acting on what was clearly common prejudice."
The Gryffindor three shared looks with each other on this mention of action on prejudice, and Tony stilled. "What did I say?" she asked. "Trina, what were you all talking about while me and Draco were away?"
Draco, who had been quietly listening to the conversation in a detached sort of manner, couldn't hide the subtle interest on his face at this point.
"Uh…" Harry started.
"Just stuff," Trina mercifully finished for him. She looked directly at Tony. "Y'know, stuff... about social things." Her gaze never wavered from Tony, and the British youths got the distinct feeling they were missing something.
"Oh," Tony said with realisation, her gaze momentarily flicking to Draco. "'Stuff'. Yeah, I getcha. Us too. Y'know. Just stuff."
Trina smiled. "So that's done."
Tony slid on her sunglasses again, to ward off the sun's vicious glare. "Good stuff – now let's grab some lunch."
"Right," Trina agreed, looking at her watch to see it was just after 1pm. "Where are we going to go?"
Tony counted off on her fingers the places they could go. "KFC…McDonald's…Subway…"
"Burger King?" Trina prompted, for the list.
"Well," Tony said, "I don't really like BK, but there's that, I guess." She turned to the other four. "What do you guys want?"
"I don't suppose you have any Pumpkin Pasties do you?" asked Ron.
Tony's face contorted a little, and Draco looked like he wanted to comment but thought better of it, opting instead for maintaining a quiet, safe distance.
"Has nobody ever mentioned how seriously disgusting the wizard menu sounds?" Tony said, incredulously.
"I mean, seriously," Trina added, " 'Pumpkin Juice', 'Pumpkin Pasties', 'Butterbeer'… What the bananas gets put in that stuff? And how can it possibly taste good?"
"Ok," Harry concluded, "so no Pasties."
"Subway's closest," Tony said, "but I feel the need for Deep Fried Calorie, so any protests to KFC?"
"Let's go then," Trina agreed, and led the group away from the beach. "Then sometime later we can kill some more time at the movies while we wait for night-time."
They hadn't been strolling down the paved city centre for long before it became apparent that Tony's hair was being noticed.
"Not one for being inconspicuous, are you?" Trina asked, rhetorically.
"Well, I don't have a choice, now," Tony responded amicably.
Hermione still looked sceptical about Tony's choice of fashion. "Why did you get blue hair in the first place?"
"Uh, I like it…?" Tony said, her tone indicating that she wondered if there was a 'right' answer to the question.
"But people are going to think you're up to no good," Hermione said, nervously moving her own brown waves behind her shoulder. "They'll all think you're bad news."
"They can think what they like about me," Tony acknowledged breezily, with a friendly smile not resembling someone who was bad news. "It doesn't make it the truth."
Again, wary looks were swapped between Draco and the Gryffindor three. Tony noticed this and stopped suddenly.
"Ok, that is really weird when you do that!" Tony exclaimed. "The facial communication thing! Do wizards communicate by osmosis in their natural habitat?"
The rest of the group stopped, and Trina made a noise that might have been something of a giggle, before saying, "No, I think they communicate with Sparklers."
"It's just different," came a new voice, and the remainder of the group were almost startled to hear Draco speak. Harry and Hermione waited to hear what he meant, and Ron was looking ready to dissect Draco's words in hopes of finding hidden plots proving malevolence. Draco's tone hadn't been signifying a truce, but it wasn't openly declaring war either – he had effectively placed himself on undetectable ground.
"What?" Tony said, as if she hadn't heard. "You mean the way you communicate?" She didn't get a response, so turned to Trina and admitted, "He's lost me."
"You and me both," Trina said, as she resumed walking toward the red and white KFC building, the others following.
"This." Harry specified after a few moments thought at what Draco could have meant. "This is different. Aside from the fact we're in New Zealand. The very fact that Malfoy is with us and not only are we expected to call a truce, but if what you said was true, things might…change anyway…" His voice quietened down until it had faded away to nothing, as if he were too overwhelmed – or perhaps horrified – to finish the sentence.
"Ah," Trina said. "I see."
"If things did change," Tony said hypothetically to no one in particular, "what would have made it do that?"
Harry shrugged a little, as if trying to appear nonchalant, as he said, "Stuff."
~~
When Minerva McGonagall stepped into the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore was seated at his desk, obviously having expected her.
"Albus?" the deputy headmistress said softly, to gain his attention.
"Ah, Minerva," he said sadly, "I assume you've come to talk to me about this sad business concerning the disappearances."
McGonagall sat in one of the comfortable chairs facing Dumbledore's desk. "With Molly Weasley withdrawing students from the school, who knows just how many more will leave? The school will be thrown into utter havoc."
"Indeed, it is unfortunate," the headmaster responded. "But such a concern – although it worries me greatly – will shortly be out of my hands."
McGonagall's eyes widened. "What do you mean, Albus?"
"I mean, Minerva, that conditions have altered and authority shifted," Dumbledore explained. "Earlier this evening I received an owl from the Ministry of Magic. It seems – and by significant influence of Mr Malfoy, I imagine – that they have decided me unfit for my post, due to the disappearance of four of our students from Hogwarts grounds."
Minerva McGonagall gasped. "Surely, Albus," she said incredulously, "surely they're not removing you from the school!"
"Keep in mind, Minerva," said Dumbledore placidly, "that I have been denounced before, and yet things returned to the norm. Let us hope that this may soon resolve itself."
"But Albus," McGonagall protested, "How will the school run without you? What is the ministry planning to do about the school management?"
"The school will be officially Ministry-run," Dumbledore informed her. "But there will be a central figure through which they will operate, and it is probable he will be posted as practicing Headmaster for as long as this matter takes to conclude itself."
"Who will this be, Albus?" McGonagall asked, still in disbelieving shock.
"I believe, Minerva," said Dumbledore with a sad finality, "that come next Monday, the school and its students will be transferred to the overruling hand…of Lucius Malfoy."
~~
Ginny couldn't remember having seen her brothers so sombre before. Not even when Slytherin had beaten them at Quidditch. George was nervously fingering something at the bottom of his red jersey, a silver object on his belt she'd never seen before, and Fred was looking uneasily at Professor Snape, who was gazing patronisingly back at him.
"You know, don't you, Mr Weasley," Snape was addressing Fred sarcastically as he motioned to the bronze eagle statue sitting on a pedestal in front of them, "how to use a Portkey?"
Fred's face changed to feign innocent surprise. "Why no, sir. What is this 'Portkey' you speak of? Does it bite?"
Snape curled his lower lip in disdain. "Be mindful, Mr Weasley," said the professor, trying to maintain his composure, "that despite the fact I may no longer deduct house points from you, you'd do well to keep your behaviour in check – you may not be free of my authority for long."
Fred obligingly kept silent, but imparted an irritatingly cheerful grin.
Snape drew his shoulders straight and stared rigidly down his nose at Fred as the Headmaster approached the small assembly in the quiet corner of the Entrance Hall.
"Ah," Dumbledore said, his tone sad as he saw the packed bags and broomsticks leaning languidly against them, "I see you're ready to go."
Despite the unfortunate – and indeed, even insulting – situation that Dumbledore was forced to allow, he put a hopeful smile onto his face, although it was almost lost under his long silver beard.
"Let us hope," he said, "that this will all be sorted out soon, and you are all able to come back to Hogwarts – although perhaps those points will be deducted on your return, Mr Weasley." He looked with amusement pointedly at Fred, who didn't look at all worried.
Ginny picked a small carry-bag and nervously held it to her chest. "How will this be fixed, Sir?" she asked.
The headmaster's face was strangely withdrawn as he replied, "With patience."
Despite the fact that by now Ginny thought she should be used to the old man's cryptic speeches, it didn't make it any less frustrating.
Silence settled on the small gathering, save for the nervous shuffling of Ginny's feet.
"Well," surmised Dumbledore with a sad finality, "Doubtless, your mother anxiously awaits you at home." He leant a subtle nod toward the bronze eagle statue in front of them.
The growing lump in Ginny's throat and the cool bronze of the eagle under her fingers were the last things she felt before the pull behind her navel sent her rushing home.
The shock of suddenly feeling their living room floor under her feet made her stumble a little and her suitcases fell from her grasp and onto the floor with a clunk.
"Ginny, dear!" a bright voice exclaimed. "And Fred…George…oh I'm so glad you got here safely!"
"It's not as if You-Know-Who's going to abduct us just because he wants in on a Popping-Fizzy-Pebble Adjustment deal – which is all we'd have to offer," Fred stated – more than a little bitterly, Ginny thought.
Molly Weasley looked like she was going to say something sharp to his blatant sarcasm which was obviously not intended to draw a laugh, but she said in measured tones, "Now, Fred, I know you're not happy about leaving Hogwarts, but I believe it's currently for the best – you're here where I can keep an eye on you."
"Yeah," George said bitterly, "and everyone knows that the most powerful wizard in the world can't protect us as well as you can."
Mrs Weasley put her hands commandingly on her hips and her voice rose as she said sternly, "You're not helping anything, you two! I couldn't leave you in there knowing that Harry, Hermione, and one of my own, were taken-"
"…and Malfoy-"
Mrs Weasley didn't look appreciative of the correction. "-were taken by the darkest wizard in the world!" At these last words her voice seized up and her face suddenly appeared to age 10 years as she dissolved into tears.
The twins looked at each other awkwardly, and deciding that perhaps getting smart to their mother wasn't a good idea right now, silently traipsed up the stairs to their room, Ginny coming up behind them.
When Ginny tossed her suitcases onto her floor where they landed with a repeat 'clunk', she threw herself onto her bed and gazed in the direction of the small black split in her ceiling, though not actually looking at it – more at the empty abyss behind of it, into which her life had just be swallowed. How can we possibly help Harry from home…? She lay thinking. And how are we possibly safer here?
About half an hour later, her questioning thoughts were interrupted by her twin brothers striding through her door, and she quickly sat and drew her knees up under her chin. Fred parked himself on the light wicker chair in the corner of her room, while George sat on the end of her bed.
"So now what?" Fred looked at them questioningly. "Our Quidditch team has just lost three players!"
Ginny sighed. She shouldn't have been surprised that her brothers were concerned about Quidditch before they were concerned about lessons or what the Ministry of Magic was doing.
"It looks like the position of Gryffindor Seeker may have the same turnover as the professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts," George added miserably.
"Not to mention lessons," Ginny said, and seeing her brothers' expressions of indignation, added, "Oh, c'mon, even if you don't give a stuff about schoolwork, I'm sure you wouldn't like to be kept back a year so you're the only ones your age with the students who had been below you!"
This concept had the desired effect on the boys – their expressions displayed their renewed concern for their dilemma.
"Mum's not going to let us go back to Hogwarts," Fred said dully. "At least not for a while."
"But she also wouldn't be happy with us dropping out of school education-wise," George added. "So how is she going to fix that?"
"She'd better not send us to Durmstrang," Fred scowled. "From what I've heard Malfoy say, that school's really dodgy."
"Can't be any dodgier than some of the Slytherins at Hogwarts anyway," commented George bitterly. "Snape himself is the very essence of You-Know-Who."
Ginny's eyes widened at this. "That's a bit steep! You-Know-Who kills people!"
"So does Snape," Fred said wryly. "Just in a more slow and painful way than a flash of green light – he uses unnecessary homework, unfair criticisms, and a bitter, sour temperament. Honestly. Maybe he's frustrated. I bet he never gets lai-"
Ginny exploded in a fit of coughing that sounded less than genuine, her eyes flicking ashamedly to the doorway.
Fred saw that George was looking at the doorway too, like a deer caught in headlights, so Fred turned also, readying himself to face whatever censures his mother had to dispense.
He certainly hadn't been ready to face the unamused eyes looking at him from beyond the hangings of greasy black hair.
~~
"So, let me see if I've got this," Tony said. She again tossed a brightly coloured M&M into the air and quickly manoeuvred herself to try and catch it in her mouth. The small yellow disc made its rapid descent only to bounce off her nose and onto the carpeted floor of the cinema foyer. A light-hearted snicker came from her right, but she wasn't sure if it had been Harry or Ron.
She quickly looked around to see who'd watched the display, and upon reassurance that not many people had noticed the attempt, cleared her throat and said, "I did that on purpose."
"Sure you did," said Trina with accommodating smile, as she tossed her empty popcorn bag into a nearby rubbish bin and headed to the plate-glass doors opening onto the street.
"No, really," Tony said, with what was blatantly faux confidence, as she trotted after her, followed by the remainder of the group.
"Do you go to the movies a lot?" Hermione asked, looking up in surprise at the now darkened sky. She didn't know how long the movie was, but it has obviously been a good several hours, as the clouds were now grazed with the sullenness of evening.
"She does," Tony inclined her head toward Trina. "I'm not actually into them much. I used to like seeing horrors, but Trina refuses to see them – and I don't want to go by myself. It takes the fun out of it. But today they've been good for killing time, obviously."
They began to move through the slow-moving groups of youths who'd trickled from the movie theatre.
"Hey, nice hair," stated a rather charismatic guy – about 18 years old, at a guess – as he looked at Tony with a grin that she supposed he'd meant to be attractive. Judging by his closely packed group of friends around him, and his contemptuous smile, Tony was inclined to think that he wouldn't have said anything had he been by himself. Well, if he could play the superficial fool, she could give it right back.
"Hey, thanks," Tony replied with an almost-realistic appreciative smile. "If you think that's great, you should see my phone number!"
However her response may have shaken the composure of the young man, she was unable to see, because a firm grasp on the back of her top had pulled her roughly backwards, and soon the face of the guy and his friends was lost in the milling people on the street.
"Hey, what-?"
"I can't believe you just did that! You've never even seen him before – he could be a total arse! Kindly restrain yourself," Trina said with an incredulous smile, and she released her friend's top. "And you'd better hope they don't watch Friends, otherwise you would have sounded like a TV-quoting loser."
"You have to admit," Tony replied, "you thought it was funny though. And I can hit on guys here now, because I'm not coming back for two years – or however long our OE will continue on for after we've dropped these guys off – so I'll never have to face running into them."
"Then why do you do it?" inquired Hermione. The look on her face indicated that Tony couldn't possibly have given any reason to her, to justify random flirting.
"Because I can," Tony said. "I need another reason?"
All she got in response was a frown from Hermione, although she thought she saw an amused twitch at the corner of Draco's mouth.
Harry, who had remained in silence, preferring just to listen to the animated conversation and glace around at the emptied paved street they were now walking up, saw that they were approaching Marine Parade again. The building that stood stationed at the corner, with the rounded dome roof, he now saw sported animated coloured lights. They blinked and changed in the illusion of bands of colour encircling the dome.
As they reached the edge of Marine Parade to walk across the Pedestrian Crossing settled under lit orange globes, they saw the various pictures laced onto streetlamps with small coloured lights of the kind Harry had only seen on Aunt Petunia's Christmas tree. The Hogwarts trees tended to have candles instead.
"Wow," Hermione said, as she gazed up and down looking at each glowing picture. "Look at that one, Ron." She pointed out an elaborately constructed image of coloured flowers strung in their lit web at the top of a pole.
"Yeah," said Ron, and Harry couldn't help grinning at the lack-of-enthusiasm sounding in his voice at the sight of a picture of flowers. "There are some odd lighted things here," he said, looking at the various art deco structures stationed in sequence along the grassy area in front of the shoreline. "Like that thing…and that thing on the fountain-" he squinted a little to see ahead, "what's-"
He cut off abruptly, and in the plentiful light supplied by bright lamps and decorative lights Harry could see a substantial blush forming on his friend's face. Ron was looking as though he intensely wished he hadn't pointed out "that".
"Some people call that 'The Spirit of Napier,' Trina supplied, motioning towards the structure that Ron had found so off-putting.
"The less patriotic of us," Tony added, "call it 'the Golden Girl', or just 'the Naked Lady.'" Tony seemed to find it infinitely more amusing to watch Ron's increasing blush than to look at the prominent golden landmark.
The golden form had her arms outstretched to the sky, bathed in an upward golden light, as she stood at the pinnacle of the springing fountain running between curved pillars and the added jets of water firing from the pillars themselves.
"Not really the best image for national acclaim," Tony concluded. "A naked woman with copious amounts of fluid running from-" she stopped suddenly at the deliberate dramatic shock and trauma written on Trina's face. "Oh, c'mon," she said with a laugh to her. "You know you'd thought of it too! How can you not? The thing's right there and larger than life-"
"You need to learn how to stop talking," Trina stated good-naturally. "Let's look at your favourite fountain – which is what we've waited out this whole day for – then we'd better be off. We've used a whole day already and we're only half-an-hour from home."
"Okay, okay," Tony responded. "Let's go then." She began to quicken her pace up Marine Parade, the others following.
Ron trotted a little to fall into step with Harry, and slowed to talk to him. "She's quite…out there, isn't she?" he said.
"Tony?" Harry said. "I think they both are really, in their different ways. Tony just shows it in a more…colourful way, I guess. Sometimes. But Trina definitely eggs her on."
Hermione was briskly walking on ahead, and Ron looked sideways at Draco, not wanting him to hear their conversation. Draco wasn't directly next to them, but was still too close for Ron's satisfaction. Ron stuck his hands deep into his pockets in a shifty sort of way, and pointedly and deliberately cleared his throat.
Draco's head turned at this and he looked at Ron. He didn't appear to be surprised to see the blatantly antagonistic look Ron was giving him, but again his face was unreadable. At Ron's increasing glare, Draco opened his mouth a little as if to say something, but he shut it again with a superior expression and strode further ahead in with a manner that could only be described as indifference.
Now that Draco was out of earshot, Ron looked at Harry and said, "You don't really believe them, do you? I mean, Malfoy had been unbearable for years – he can't just suddenly be a good guy." His face contorted a little at the last part, as if the very concept had a bitter taste.
"I don't know," Harry responded truthfully. "He hasn't gone out of his way to make life hard for us while we've been here though, has he?"
"Of course not!" Ron replied. "Because he doesn't have a choice! We're the only people he knows on this side of the world, and his only hope of getting back! I don't trust him. His father is Lucius – and he's always been so proud of that! You don't just drop that heritage overnight to become chums with your enemy. He must be playing up to us so he can turn against us later."
Harry chewed on his bottom lip as he walked, thinking about what Ron had said.
"What Trina was saying to us on the beach," Ron continued, "was just their view – hers and Tony's. They don't know everything. Even the most detailed novel doesn't describe everything."
"So you don't think they might be right?" Harry said. "Even about only some of it?"
"I think it was a load of codswallop," Ron affirmed. "And she dared to accuse me of being the bad guy! I mean, just look at him!" He looked with unmasked hatred at Draco Malfoy sauntering ahead with Tony, Trina and Hermione.
Harry was about to correct Ron that Trina hadn't gone as far as to say that, but one look at Ron's face convinced him to let it slide. He followed his friend's gaze to settle on Malfoy still keeping stride with the others. As if Draco had heard Harry and Ron's conversation, he turned his head – a wave of white hair shadowing his eyes – and offered them a sly smirk, which made Harry wonder if perhaps Ron was right.