As ever, thanks to reviewers.

A lull in the storm, during which some answers are provided, but not all. And what, in the end, will be more dangerous? The secrets, or Harry's determination to find them out...

When Harry finally fell sleepily out of bed the next morning, most adults staying in the house had already been obliged to go out on business. Mrs Weasley remained home in order to keep an eye on them all after their upsetting experiences. Harry knew better than to suppose she might be persuaded to let slip any useful or interesting information whatsoever, and glumly resigned himself to biding his time. He was determined, however, to get the full story out of somebody.

This house depressed Harry. Everywhere he looked, he expected to see Sirius' dark hair swinging, and hear him cursing his mother's portrait. This house: which, thanks to Sirius, now belonged to him. He hated it. But at least he had a house..

Ron and Hermione picked over the details of Harry and Ginny's adventures with suitable amounts of awe and horror. To Harry's relief, the Weasleys were at present just too thankful Harry and Ginny had been restored to them unscathed to have much energy for recriminations about the loss of their home. Harry was sure that would come, though. Then they would begin to hate him… He knew how much Ron, in particular, resented being poor…

"A patronus?" Ron was exclaiming with incredulity, as Fred slapped a mug of tea on the table in front of him. "Ginny produced a real, proper patronus?"

Ron looked put out. His long nose quivered. Watching him, it dawned on Harry that in all their Defence Association lessons he had never seen Ron's wand spout more than silvery vapour.

"Yeah," Harry said, wary of Ron's reaction. "A wildcat…"

"How can she do that?" Ron was clearly aggrieved. "I mean, she's younger than me, and she's…"

"What?" Hermione said sharply, raising an eyebrow. "Just a girl?"

"No, of course not! But she's my little sister, that's all…"

George sighed. "Don't tell me, Ron, that you haven't realized?"

"How many older brothers does Ginny have?" Fred asked kindly.

Ron looked blank and stared from one identical brother to another.

"Six, you morons!" Ron said tetchily, completely bewildered. "You can count!"

"When did the Weasleys last produce a daughter?"

"Way back when, centuries ago…I dunno…what is all this?"

"You see," Fred explained, "Ginny, if you think about it, is the seventh child of a seventh child. On top of that, she is the only girl Weasley in seven generations."

"So?"

"So, my dear Ron, when Ginny comes into her full powers, we should probably all hope she still likes us…Mum and Dad are hoping none of us will realize, they want her to grow up in her own way…But we overheard them talking about it one evening."

Ron scowled. Harry recalled how Ron had always felt overshadowed by his five elder brothers. Not to mention his best friend, Harry. Now it seemed that his baby sister was going to turn into some kind of super-witch…Harry felt a flare of something oddly like pride, for some reason. Then he decided it was time to change the subject.

"Er, yeah, well. Those vampires then. What do you reckon about that? And what have they got to do with Snape?"

"Well, you said Snape was talking to them in their own language. That's very interesting, because you can't learn Vampyr tongue," Hermione asserted. "It's like parseltongue…It's innate."

"So - what?" Ron jumped in his chair. "Do you reckon Snape is a vampire? He's always looked like a bat, and he spends his whole time prowling around the dungeons at night. And he's creepy enough, that's for sure!"

Hermione sighed. "Ron, didn't you listen when Harry described the vampires, even if you never paid any attention in class when Lupin told us about them? Vampires are beautiful, graceful and uncannily swift. Does that sound like Professor Snape to you?"

Ron sniggered. "OK, so he's a greasy old git, which means he can't be a vampire… Right…."

"And anyway," Hermione added, "we've seen him in full daylight lots of time. No. He's not a vampire. But…" She chewed her lip thoughtfully. They all looked inquiringly at her, but she would only shake her head.

Everybody's head jolted round as they heard the door slamming. Dumbledore? Harry thought, hopefully.

But, no: it was Ginny. Bill had fetched her from St Mungo's, and dropped her off before returning to work.

"Ginny!" Fred and George pounced on her, nearly knocking her over in their enthusiasm. "Mum! MUM! Ginny's home…"

Mrs Weasley raced downstairs and enfolded Ginny in her arms.

"Mum, I'm fine," Ginny said firmly. "Let me go. See, I just have to wear this little bandage for a day or two…it's got some kind of cream to treat the poison…"

"Poison?" shrieked Mrs Weasley.

"Mum, I'm fine!"

Ginny grinned. Harry was lounging in the most comfortable chair in the kitchen; he leaped up, and insisted that Ginny have it. She laughed at him, and arranged herself carefully within its squashy embrace.

"That's better," she sighed. "I hate St Mungo's. Too many sick people!"

She was rather paler than normal, and judging from the way she moved, her leg was still painful: but basically she looked all right. Harry felt a great surge of relief wash over him. If the Weasleys had lost their youngest child and only daughter, as well as their house...

He would have loved to give the Weasleys a mountain of gold. Harry had piles of the stuff now. Sirius had inherited the Black family fortune; he had been the last surviving male Black, and most of the family assets were tied up in such a way that his mother had been unable to bequeath all this wealth away from him (much to her disgust). Sirius, as the last Black, had been free to dispose of the fortune as he wished, and he had left the whole lot to Harry. Harry didn't want Sirius' money, and he certainly didn't want 12, Grimmauld Place. But he knew very well that the Weasleys were too proud to consider taking any help from him.

He did try. But Mrs Weasley merely flicked her duster faster and faster, refusing even to turn around and look at Harry.

"It's quite all right, dear," she said, her voice higher and more rapid than normal. "We'll manage, don't you worry."

But Harry did worry. It was a good thing the Weasleys spent so much time at the Order Headquarters, and had many of their personal belongings stored there. Or they would have been next door to destitute.

There was very little for them to do, confined to Headquarters. The house had already been thoroughly decontaminated. Mrs Weasley refused point blank to let them go outside. She had a blazing row with Fred and George on this issue: which she lost, because they were of age, and insisted they needed to go and do some work at their shop. But Hermione, Harry, Ron and Ginny were simply stuck there, playing desultory games of Exploding Snap. Harry was in a fever of impatience by the time Dumbledore finally deigned to show up. He hopped up and down while the usual pleasantries were exchanged, and tea was poured, and cakes produced. Finally, Dumbledore sighed, as if making a decision.

"Well, Molly," he said heavily. "I think it is time we allowed our young friends here to know what has been happening."

Mrs Weasley looked as if she would protest. Dumbledore raised a hand, and looked at her kindly over his half-moon glasses. "I know, Molly. I know. You think they are too young, that the truth would disturb them. Well: it may. But we cannot protect them from what is going on, Molly. As the events of last night showed, they are just as liable to be caught up in Voldemort's plots as any of the rest of us. They deserve to know the truth…"

Dumbledore had everybody's rapt attention. Ginny, Hermione, Ron, Harry: each sat tensely, leaning forward slightly in their seats.

Dumbledore shifted. "I think you are all aware," he said finally, after a long, thoughtful silence, "that one of the dearest desires of Voldemort's heart is to possess true immortality…You, Ginny, suffered greatly from one of his schemes to restore himself to life during your first year… There are few genuinely immortal beings, and no known way for humans to harness that immortality for themselves…"

"Is this where vampires come in? Vampires are immortal, aren't they?" Hermione asked excitedly as Dumbledore paused.

He nodded at her, and smiled. "Yes, Hermione, that is right. It is our belief that Voldemort is teaming up with vampires. But it isn't only their aid in the war that he wants. He is seeking to know the secret of Vampyr immortality, and get it for himself."

"But, Professor," Hermione said quickly. "Isn't there a problem there? I mean, vampires can't be wizards…even if a wizard becomes a vampire, they lose their magic…surely Voldemort isn't willing to stop being a wizard to get immortal life?"

Dumbledore smiled at her again. "I always knew you would be one of the brightest students to come through Hogwarts, Hermione. Yes. You are right. That is the crux of Voldemort's dilemma. It seems that one of the prices vampires pay for their special abilities and immortal life is the loss of any ability to use magic of their own, beyond certain in-built magics such as flying and supernatural resilience…"

Harry was frowning. "OK, so Voldemort is messing about with vampires in the hope it'll help him to become immortal. How does that affect us? I mean, why did I have to leave the Dursleys so suddenly…why does it change things if vampires come into the picture?"

Dumbledore paused again. The inhabitants of the kitchen remained hooked on his every word.

"You know, Harry, that the secret of your safety while you reside with your relatives lies in blood magic…"

Harry nodded. He did know this. His mother had died to protect him, and this had invoked an ancient magic which meant Harry was safe as long he lived with his mother's blood relatives. Most unfortunately, this had meant Harry spending all of his summer holidays with the Dursleys. He knew his mother could not help her relatives. But still.

"Well, vampires are not affected by that particular kind of magic. Their own line is rooted in a blood magic even deeper and more ancient than the one which protects you. Once Voldemort had allied himself with the vampires, they could come at you at the Dursleys any time they wished. That is why we removed you as soon as we had word Voldemort was in league with vampires."

Harry nodded slowly. That made sense, he supposed. And they had taken him secretly, so nobody was supposed to know where he was, and left him with a wizarding family whose home was guarded by strong magical wards.

Which plan had failed: because of a traitor. A traitor, to the Order of the Phoenix, who had let Voldemort know Harry's location….

"OK," Harry said. His voice had become very hoarse. He saw in his mind's eye The Burrow, a blasted wreck blazing with many colours. He relived the moment when Ginny had plunged downwards, down towards the exploding house and the waiting Death Eaters. "So, OK. And then they come after me at The Burrow…I just…there's more to this, isn't there? You haven't told us everything yet?"

Dumbledore regarded Harry gravely. Harry stared back, mouth set. He wanted to know. Too many secrets had been kept from him in the past.

"That brings us back to Hermione's point," Dumbledore went on. "What Voldemort wants with vampires apart from their help in kidnapping Harry. It is my belief that Voldemort thinks he has found a way to combine immortality with magical powers."

"How?" Harry and Hermione asked together amidst a general shocked murmuring.

"It is rumoured that a certain amulet exists in the world… I know it under the name of the Soul Casket. Voldemort appears to be calling it the Amulet of Anima. This amulet can act as a repository of the soul. It is the soul from which magic comes, you know. So if Voldemort acquired a Vampyr body, he could retain his soul and his magic in the amulet… Then he would be bodily immortal, but still retain his full magical powers. Voldemort does not, of course, realize we know he seeks this amulet."

"Do you know where it is?" Ginny put in, eyes wide. "Does….Voldemort….does he know where to find it?"

"Nobody knows where to find it," Dumbledore said simply. "Although I have a few ideas…"

Harry regarded Dumbledore narrowly. He just knew there was something Dumbledore wasn't telling them.

"What about Snape though?" Ron demanded suddenly. "I reckon he's the traitor, Professor, and he's got some sort of link with the vampires, Hermione said so…"

Ron shrank back rather at the flash of anger in Dumbledore's blue eyes. "Ron," he said sternly, "I will not keep on reminding you of this. I trust Professor Snape. You have no reason to doubt his loyalty."

"What, you mean apart from him burning my house down!" Ron shot back, hunching his shoulders. He was too upset to really consider that this was Dumbledore he was talking to.

"Ron," Dumbledore said more gently. "I have already explained…how could Professor Snape convince Voldemort of his loyalty if he refused to participate in any…errands?"

"An errand," Ron muttered hotly. "Some errand!"

But he did subside under Dumbledore's firm gaze.

Hermione took a deep breath. "And…the vampire connection…?" she ventured tentatively.

"Any knowledge Professor Snape has gained of vampires is his own business," Dumbledore said in voice that brooked no questioning. "As he used it to save the lives of Harry and Ginny here last night, I would recommend that you simply leave it at that."

Dumbledore clearly thought he had told them all it was necessary for them to know. He took his leave, promising Mrs Weasley that he would return for a private discussion with her and other Order members later in the day.

Harry tapped his fingers on the table. He was not satisfied. Not at all: Dumbledore was still keeping secrets.

He wouldn't stand for it.