"Stress," grumbled Madam Pomfrey as she let Harry and Ron into the infirmary. "Sheer stress. We get a lot of similar stress-related incidents around the NEWT and OWL time of year. Now, you two are to keep an eye on Hermione in future, and make sure she doesn't overdo it again."

She handed Hermione a cup of herbal tea, and said to the two boys, "Half an hour, and then you two are to leave. She's supposed to be having complete bed rest for today - no reading, no running around saving the world."

Hermione, who was sitting up in bed, waited until Madam Pomfrey had bustled away, and guiltily removed "NEWT Level Potions, Vol 1 – Aarhus's Philtre to Necromancy" from under her pillow.

"Hide that under those robes over there, will you?" she said, passing the heavy book to Ron. "And don't talk to me about stress. I'm absolutely fine. There's nothing wrong with me, but try telling Madam Pomfrey that. I even cut down my evening study from four hours to three and a half, last week."

"Sure you did," said Ron. "Can't fool us. Lavender says you stay up late reading things under your quilt with your wand, and I'm willing to bet they're not romance novels. What do you think, Harry?"

"So Hermione's a workaholic," said Harry impatiently, "and we're to make her cups of tea and massage her feet for her, fine, fine, what else is new. Hermione, aren't you interested in what happened after you left?"

"Yes, of course," replied Hermione hastily, glad of a change of subject. "So Naedine got stuck in a broom closet?"

"Fought like a madwoman, too," Harry said enthusiastically. "Flitwick was in here having his nose repaired after they finally managed to haul her out. By the way, Madam Pomfrey gave him your sideburns. Didn't think you'd mind."

Hermione clapped her hands to the sides of her face, and, finding that everything was normal, said, "That's fine. Go on."

"Well, they sent for the Ministry of Magic," Harry continued. "They've been upstairs for a while now – she's imprisoned in a reinforced room in the West Tower. Don't know what they're planning on doing with her."

"Azkaban?" put in Ron hopefully.

Hermione snorted. "They don't send people to Azkaban for getting dodgy tattoos, claiming to have joined the Dark Side, and generally being bratty teenagers," she said. "Else they'd have to extend the place just to hold all the little Gothic prisoners. I reckon it'll be some sort of juvenile detention... restricted magic use... counselling, that sort of thing."

Ron looked disappointed. "How'd she manage to join the Death Eaters anyway?" he asked. "Didn't You-Know-Who have a hand in cursing her?"

"Well... Sarkasmius can be a little confunding. I doubt she remembers the curse being performed on her. You-Know-Who probably thought it was amusing to have somebody he'd put a curse on working for him – and another inside agent at Hogwarts, too. But I still don't know how she managed to contact him, or get the Dark Mark."

"I heard," said Ron, "that she was talking to him with that Muggle Floo powder-type thing, you know, the one they use to send letters and stuff."

"The Internet?"

"Yeah, that's it. Dad's been trying to get it installed at the house, but he hasn't been able to, yet. Apparently, you need to have a compuper first."

"Computer," Harry corrected. "Dudley had the Internet. He always has the latest gadgets and gizmos. I used it for homework during the summer, sometimes, when he was out. I Googled myself, once. You ever try it, Hermione? You wouldn't believe how many Harry Potters there are out there with websites. Harry Potter this, Harry Potter that... there's a movie, too."

Hermione looked from one boy to the other. "Well," she said weakly, "it's a common name..."

Harry, however, had moved on to what he considered a more important subject. He came over and sat on the bed, and with a lowered voice, said, "I heard – Susan Bones told Hannah Abbott who told Lavender – they might be going to use the Sarkasmius on Naedine again."

"You're joking," said Hermione in an almost horrified tone. "They're cursing a student? For being rebellious?"

"Well, she was trying to join Voldemort, wasn't she? She was feeding him information from inside Hogwarts, and they caught her going through Dumbledore's desk! You think she'd get off with just a slap on the wrist? Not likely. You know Fudge, he likes making an example of people, and with a Death Eater in his grasp – or, at least a potential Death Eater – well, he's not going to let the opportunity go to waste. And, you know she's pretty harmless when she's cursed..."

"When she's Doris," added Ron, faintly.

The other two fell silent.

Professor McGonagall hurried down the hallway as fast as possible, snapping "Out of my way!" at a group of second years that happened to be in her path. Hoping that Fudge and Dumbledore were still in the last place she'd seen them, she threw open the door of the staff room. However, its only inhabitant was Professor Snape, who was critically examining the centrefold of the newly reconfiscated Wenches magazine. He dropped it quickly and grabbed the nearest available book ("Gadding With Ghouls", which happened to be upside down) as a guilty flush spread across his face.

"Er," he said. "There was an article about the effects of a particular potion... er, no, I mean..."

"I know the one," barked McGonagall. "Illegal in every first-world country except Ireland. Have you seen Dumbledore? It's urgent."

"They went off towards the Entrance Hall..." Snape trailed off as McGonagall disappeared from the doorway, moving at quite a clip for a woman of her age.

She caught sight of the two gentlemen as they were just heading out the front door. "Albus!" she called, short of breath. Dumbledore turned.

"She's gone!"

"She tunnelled out," said Professor McGonagall, still disbelieving. "I have no idea how she did it. For heaven's sake, that's why we put her all the way up here in the first place!"

The three of them surveyed the horrible mess that was the West Tower. "Ye gods," said Fudge, and mopped his brow with a silk handkerchief. "And... is it like this, all the way down?"

"Unfortunately so," replied McGonagall. "It'll take weeks to fix; plus she managed to destroy all the plumbing in the Arithmancy department."

"Did she have help? She must have had... something, I mean, look at it!"

Dumbledore flicked his wand, and a stream of yellow "WARNING! DO NOT CROSS!" tape emerged. He closed off the damaged sections of floor, and dusting off his hands, said briskly, "Well, there's nothing to be done about it now."

"She's long gone by this stage," McGonagall added. "Stole Madam Hooch's broom. We called the local Muggle airfield at once, and apparently she was headed north – not that that's much help."

"For what it's worth, Cornelius," Dumbledore said to the flabbergasted Minister, "I don't think she had help. She seems to take all the credit herself, anyway." He produced a piece of thick, scented parchment from a pocket of his robes. A dainty italic scrawl read:

Dear Dumbledore,

Did you think your puny tower could hold me, Naedine Galadriel Serenity Katerina bint Esmonde? By the time you read this, I'll be long gone, but don't worry, all my memories of dear Hogwarts are fond ones. Ha!

I'm leaving to join my master and one true love, and nothing you or any of your pathetic Ministry friends can do will stop me achieving my goal. Oh, by the way, please keep my trunk and all my possessions safe – ask a house-elf to store them properly, with lavender sachets only – and I'll be back to collect them, some day. When it's my school! LOL!

Lots'n'lots of luv and kisses, from your

Naedine xxx

Fudge turned to Dumbledore. "And how do you explain how this – this girl – managed to escape from a reinforced, guarded room in the most carefully protected building in the wizarding world, under the very nose of Albus Dumbledore, the world's most revered mage?"

Dumbledore shrugged his shoulders. "Cornelius, I'm as much in the dark as you. The only thing I could say at this point is that it's true, what they say about Mary-Sues – they really don't obey the laws of magic. Or for that matter, logic."

Fudge considered this for a moment, and then, with a sigh, placed his bowler hat firmly on his head. "You may be right there," he said, clapping Dumbledore on the back. "Minerva, Albus – it's been a long day. Let's go for a pint."