Chapter Forty-Three: Pieces of a Puzzle

Ron awoke several times on Sunday morning.

The first time was just at dawn, as the sky was turning orange with the rising sun. Ron opened his eyes long enough to note this, and fell back into a heavy, dreamless sleep. He woke again a half hour later, when he felt Madam Pomfrey leaning over him and felt her cool, dry fingers lift his dead-weight wrist and check his pulse. He saw her smile at him and for a moment he was sure her eyes were shiny with unshed tears, but sleep dragged him down again. The third time he woke it was with sunlight in his eyes. It seemed rather silly to keep them open in such a circumstance, so he closed them yet again, and slept some more.

It was the fourth time that Ron opened his eyes that he felt the inexorable pull of wakefulness.

He also felt the weight of other pairs of eyes on him. He blinked, and looked up to see a blurry pair of brown eyes, surrounded by a halo of mad, bushy brown hair.

''Mione...' he heard himself whisper. The effort to speak hurt. His throat was dry as a desert, rough as cut glass. And yet as Hermione's face came into focus, Ron found he didn't care. She was, quite simply, the most beautiful sight he could ever wake up to.

'Hi,' Hermione whispered, and she leaned forward and kissed his lips. He was too weak to even kiss back, but he leaned into the kiss, as much as he could, all the same. Then he felt her hand brushing through his fringe. The soothing touch of her fingers almost sent him spiraling back into sleep, but then he looked at her again and he knew he didn't want to sleep. He didn't want to miss looking at her.

'How do you feel?' she asked softly.

'Okay,' he said. It wasn't a total lie. The headache he'd had when he had woken up last night was gone, owing, no doubt, to Madam Pomfrey's potions. But he couldn't remember the last time he felt this tired.

'Hey,' said another, familiar voice. Ron turned his head slowly--it seemed to weigh a ton--and his eyes focused now on Harry, who was grinning at him.

'Hey,' Ron croaked back, and then he saw Ginny move next to Harry. She was smiling tearfully at him.

'Hey, baby sister,' Ron said, forcing his tired face into a smile at her, Harry and Hermione.

'Hey, big brother,' said Ginny, wiping a tear from her cheek. 'We were wondering if you'd ever come out of your coma. It's past ten.'

Ron blinked again and saw that all three of them looked exhausted.

'Were you here all night?' he asked.

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'Pomfrey couldn't get rid of us.'

Ron swallowed, and his heart felt suddenly very full. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

'Thanks,' he said, and then he realized he was desperately thirsty. 'Water...'

Hermione stood up and fetched the pitcher on the bedside table; she poured him a glass as he struggled to sit up.

'Easy, mate,' said Harry.

'Tired of lying down,' said Ron, although the effort to sit up was harder than he thought. His limbs felt like dead-weight at first. But as he forced himself into a halfway-sitting position, he felt prickling tingles start in his arms and legs as the circulation returned.

He felt Hermione place the glass of water at his lips; he sipped gingerly, and after a few moments he felt his hand go up and wrap around hers and the glass itself. The water ached on his throat, but it was good. It was a few minutes before he drained the glass, and nobody said a word.

Ron sat back against the headboard and let out a breath. He was tired, but he could already feel his strength returning. And clarity, that was returning as well.

'Shit,' he said suddenly. 'Fred and George...'

'They're okay,' said Ginny, but something in her posture told Ron she wasn't being totally forthcoming.

'But...' Ron prompted.

Ginny glanced at Harry and Hermione with a look of distress on her face.

'Do you think—' she began.

'Yeah,' said Harry, firmly.

'What are you talking about?' said Ron, feeling panic start to hammer in his chest. 'What's wrong with Fred and George?'

Hermione and Ginny both seemed to be at a loss for words; it was Harry who spoke.

'They're alive,' he said. 'Fred...he was all cut up when they found him.'

Ron shuddered. 'I...I remember seeing that. They cut him up with spells.'

Hermione squeezed Ron's hand as Harry continued.

'Fred got this infection from the cuts,' said Harry. 'Well, one cut, in his arm. It was gangrene. They thought they might have to amputate his arm but...they stopped the infection in time. But his arm...it's really messed up. He won't really be able to use it anymore.'

Ron swallowed. 'Okay,' he said finally.

That's not so bad. Fred's alive and he's okay. Percy's got that bad leg and he works around it; Fred can learn the same thing.

'What about George?' Ron asked

Here, Harry faltered slightly.

'George...' he said. 'Well...he was tortured pretty badly.'

Ron closed his eyes as his brain was assaulted with images of George, writhing on a stone floor, sobbing in pain.

'I saw that, too,' Ron whispered, as Hermione put her arm round his shoulders. 'Right before...I found out where they were.'

Harry took a deep breath. 'They...they tortured him a long time. Until...' His voice trailed off and he looked down at his hands.

'Until what?' said Ron, and then another image popped behind his eyes. George, lying on his side in a hospital bed, his hair streaked with white, staring vacantly at a wall.

'Jesus,' Ron whispered, and he felt his eyes begin to burn. 'They...they made him like Neville's parents, didn't they?'

Nobody seemed to be able to speak; instead, Harry, Ginny and Hermione all nodded. Ginny was crying silently, leaning against Harry for support.

Ron swallowed a second lump in his throat, and the tears that threatened became as hot as the anger that boiled up in his blood.

'Those fucking bastards,' he whispered. 'Lucius Malfoy...if I ever find him...I swear I'll--'

'Ron, don't,' Hermione begged, and she clutched him tightly. 'Don't get yourself worked up, please--'

'George is my brother and they've...they've messed up his mind, Hermione!' Ron protested, his voice straining against the ache of his scratchy throat.

'Ron, listen,' Harry jumped in urgently. 'George is in a bad way but there's a chance he could get some help.'

Ron turned to Harry. 'What do you mean?'

Harry started to talk rather fast. 'There's this potion. Neville came up with it. Well, Neville and this healer at St. Mungo's. It's some kind of memory retrieval thing, or mind potion. Neville thinks it could help bring George back.'

Ron gaped at Harry. 'Neville made up a potion?'

Melts-his-cauldron-in-Potions-class-once-a-week Neville made a potion that's going to stop George from being barmy?

'Yes,' said Harry firmly. 'He's been working on it for months. He told me about it ages ago but I had to keep it a secret. He and this healer, Augustus Pye, were breaking all sorts of rules working on it. They've tested it a bunch of times and they both think it could work. And the head healer bloke, he thinks it could work, too.'

'Mum and Dad agreed to it, Ron,' said Ginny, wiping her eyes again. 'Since George can't...can't speak for himself, they had to sign these forms consenting to the treatments.'

'Ron, Neville came up with this thing on his own,' said Harry insistently. 'I know it sounds far-fetched but...look at his parents. He started out wanting to help them, only they've been...like they are for too long for the stuff to work on them. He kept working on it anyway, because he didn't want anyone else to go through what his parents went through. And he even got into trouble over it, that is, he and Augustus. Augustus got suspended for two weeks without payment and Neville...he applied to the Healer program and because he broke all these rules, that'll go on his application and he might not get into the program now.'

'It's true, they did get in trouble,' said Hermione. 'We saw it yesterday.'

Ron was speechless for about half a minute as he took this all in. He was sure he had a rather stupid expression on his face, but it all seemed incredible.

Neville, inventing a potion that could cure George? Could cure other people who'd suffered the way George had? It didn't seem remotely possible. And yet there was his sister, his best mate and his girlfriend all declaring that it was true.

'Neville got in trouble to help George?' Ron finally managed.

'Yeah,' said Harry glumly. 'Well, it's really because of me. I asked him to help. But he didn't hesitate. He came back to St. Mungo's with me and had this conference with the healers and everything.'

'Neville doesn't even know George all that well,' said Ron weakly.

'He did it because it was the right thing to do,' said Ginny. 'That's how he is, you know that.'

Ron swallowed again and reached for his water glass, which Hermione had refilled. He gulped the contents down in one, and set it on the table with a shaky hand.

'I know that,' he managed. 'Neville...fancy that.' He looked up at Harry and Ginny.

'Do you really think it could work?' Ron said.

'We don't know,' said Harry. 'But...it can't hurt to try, right?'

'When would they start...treatments?' Ron asked.

'Right away,' said Harry. 'Look, Ron, just...try to stay positive, okay? It's George. If anyone can come back from this, George can.'

Ron nodded. In truth, he didn't feel optimistic so much as blind-sided. Finding his brothers had so thoroughly taxed him that he hadn't even had time to consider what state they would be in when found; he'd managed to stay conscious long enough to wheeze out some details to McGonagall before everything went black.

Now, Fred was wearing a useless arm and George was...insane.

'Ron,' said Ginny, and she sat down next to him on his bed, 'they're alive. And...maybe I'm just lying to myself or being a hopeless optimist but...I think they're going to be okay. Fred and George.'

Ron looked at his sister and felt her take his hands; she kept her eyes on him as a wave of warmth filled his blood. He felt all her emotions: fear, exhaustion, love...but there was also hope.

'Okay, Gin,' he said, and he pulled her into a hug. It was hard to believe that this young woman was his sister, really. What had happened to the pig-tailed girl who used to look up to him for everything? Now he was the one leaning on her.

She pulled back and smiled at him. 'I love you, you know,' she said, smiling. 'I'm really glad you're okay.'

'Of course I'm okay,' said Ron, grinning at her. 'Had to wake up so I could take the mickey out of my favorite sister.'

'Ha, ha,' said Ginny.

'We're all glad you're okay,' said Harry, and suddenly he and Hermione were sitting on his bed as well; Harry clapped a hand on his shoulder, and then Ron felt Hermione snake her arms around his waist. He pulled her close and felt his strength return in full, and he knew it was because they were all there, surrounding him.

Just as Ron felt himself surrendering to this moment, his stomach gave a great rumble.

For a moment, nobody said a word, and then all of them were laughing.

'Hungry?' said Harry. 'Should I have Dobby bring up something from the kitchens?'

'You and that bottomless pit of a stomach,' said Hermione, ruffling Ron's hair affectionately.

'What?' said Ron. 'I haven't eaten since yesterday morning!'

Ron did eat a hearty breakfast, brought by Madam Pomfrey herself once she saw that Ron was awake. Much to his chagrin, she also shooed Harry, Hermione and Ginny out of the room; Pomfrey allowed him enough time to scarf down the multiple helpings of sausages and eggs and toast--he really was quite famished--and then set to examining him once again. Ron was quite pleased when she pronounced him fully cured, and accepted her admonishments never to overwork himself like that again with good humor.

His parents stopped by shortly afterward and Mrs. Weasley fussed over him, even as Mr. Weasley thanked him for finding Fred and George. It turned into a very emotional moment, with both his parents crying and Ron fighting tears. Not long after that, Madam Pomfrey waved his parents off as well, insisting Ron needed his rest.

Ron fell into a grateful afternoon nap and awoke two hours later, hungry again. Madam Pomfrey insisted on a second examination, in which he was made to stand up and walk about. He felt distinctly weak and a bit heavy-footed, but Pomfrey declared him cured enough to leave the hospital wing. She loaded his arms up with various strengthening and sleeping potions and ordered him to take every single one. In addition, she admonished him 'not to even think about getting into your meditation nonsense' for at least a full week. When Ron protested, Pomfrey shot back that this was 'straight from Professor Firenze.' At this, Ron knew he was defeated. He might try to go against Pomfrey's orders, but he had never been able to go behind Firenze's back. The centaur had a way of seeing through Ron.

He returned to his room early in the evening to find Hermione, Harry, Ginny, Neville and Luna all waiting for him; they had decorated the room with a few banners and the floor was laid out with all manner of Ron's favorite foods (Hermione enlarged the floor to accommodate all six of them). They ate a quiet but friendly dinner (Ron ate three helpings of everything) and chatted about distinctly mundane things. Nobody seemed to want to let reality intrude for the moment, and Ron was content to go along. Nobody brought up Neville's potion or George's treatment.

After a few hours of eating and socializing, Neville and Luna announced they would be leaving. Luna told Ron he should reconsider all the orange Cannons memorabilia as it clashed with his coloring.

'I'll keep that under advisement,' Ron said, grinning.

'Oh, and here are some back issues of The Quibbler for you,' she said airily. 'It really hasn't been quite as good since Rita left, but I've been writing a bit to take up the slack.'

'Rita left, did she?' said Hermione. 'What a shame.'

'Yes, it was,' said Luna, very seriously. 'Her writing style was quite popular with readers. But she said she was tired of working for nothing. Well, happy reading, Ronald!'

'Thanks, Luna,' said Ron, still smiling at her.

Nutter, that one. But a nice girl, all the same.

Then Ron pulled Neville aside.

'Look, Neville,' he said awkwardly, 'Harry told me...I just wanted to say...thanks. You didn't have to.'

'Yeah, I did,' said Neville.

'But you got in trouble,' said Ron.

'Not really,' said Neville. 'Gran didn't even send me a Howler. She said she was proud of me.'

'She should be,' said Ron sincerely.

Neville blushed crimson and mumbled something. Then he and Luna took their leave, with Neville telling Ron that the potion would take about a week to 'kick in'.

Ron closed the door behind them and turned back to Hermione and the others, all of whom were looking at him a bit nervously.

'What?' he asked.

'We have stuff to tell you,' said Harry. 'Stuff we learned yesterday.'

Ron stared at them for a moment before sitting down.

Only out of it for one day and I seem to have missed a lot.

'I'm listening,' he said.

Harry told Ron everything. How Goyle was sneaking out of the school. The newly cleared but jinxed secret passageway behind the mirror on the fourth floor. Goyle's strange behavior. That the language they'd been speaking was German. And that Blaise Zabini and Daphne Greengrass had approached Harry and the others and had offered to help. Ron listened to all this intently and silently, until Harry brought up the fact that in order to help Blaise and Daphne more effectively spy on Nott and Goyle, Harry had given them his Invisibility Cloak.

'You gave them the cloak?' Ron spluttered. 'Are you mad?'

'Ron, we have to trust them,' said Hermione. 'They're on our side.'

'No,' said Ron. 'They're on Blaise and Daphne's side. Harry said it himself: they waited until now because they didn't want to show their hand too early.'

'That doesn't mean we shouldn't trust them,' said Hermione.

'Hermione's right,' said Harry. 'And anyway, we don't have much choice at this point. They're the only ones who can really get the inside track on Nott and Goyle and the cloak makes it a lot easier.'

'Told you I was right about Goyle,' said Ron, a bit smugly.

'Yes, yes, we know,' said Hermione, rolling her eyes.

'Tell me you didn't give them the Marauder's Map, too,' said Ron nervously.

'No,' said Harry. 'That stays with me. If I have to trust Blaise and Daphne fine, but I'll do it on my terms, you know?'

Ron let out a breath and nodded approvingly.

'All right,' said Hermione, pulling out a piece of parchment on which was a new, clean, and more succinct list, 'what do we know as of now? We know Goyle is sneaking out of the castle. We know Nott is trying to get something for Voldemort--a cling, which we still haven't determined what that is-- and Goyle is apparently going to deliver it. We know Goyle is using the formerly caved in secret passageway behind the mirror on the fourth floor. We know it's jinxed so that anyone other than Goyle who tries to use it can't get through. Blaise and Daphne don't think Goyle could have done that, but Nott's clever enough to have done it.'

'Hopefully Blaise and Daphne can find that out definitively,' said Ginny. 'Maybe they can figure out how to work it.'

'They can try, but I want a crack at it, too,' said Hermione firmly. 'There's no reason Ron and I can't happen to check on it while we're out on patrols. I changed the prefect patrolling schedules a bit at the meeting this morning.'

'There was a prefect meeting this morning?' Ron asked.

'Yes,' said Hermione, 'I needed a good pretext for getting Blaise and Daphne here. Anyway, Ron, you and I will be patrolling the fourth floor tomorrow night, if you're up for it.'

'Yeah,' said Ron at once, and then something occurred to him.

'Hey,' he said, 'what if Blaise and Daphne stole something of Goyle's, or Nott's? I could always use it to--'

'Ron, you're not supposed to meditate this week!' Hermione protested. 'You know that.'

'I'll ask Firenze to make an exception,' said Ron stubbornly. 'Hermione, I feel fine. I swear. And...and it's not like meditating on something like this would be as stressful. I mean, Fred and George are back and...well, they're not totally okay but they're alive, aren't they?'

'I don't know, Ron,' said Harry. 'You probably shouldn't risk it this soon.'

'How else am I supposed to be useful, then?' Ron retorted. 'Blaise and Daphne are doing their spy bit, Hermione's helping you with that potion, and you and Ginny are going to start Empath stuff this week so you can, I dunno, get your mind stronger. Where does that leave me? Sitting on my arse doing nothing.'

'You won't be doing nothing,' said Hermione. 'You've got school, Quidditch practice, visiting Fred and George...'

'That's all fine and good but it doesn't help Harry,' said Ron.

'Ron, if you keel over again, you won't be helping me, either,' said Harry. 'Please, just take a week off from being a Seer.'

'And do what?' Ron grumbled.

'Be my best mate,' said Harry.

Ron snorted and rolled his eyes, but then his gaze fell on Harry, who was looking at him with concern, his face utterly serious. Ron let out a breath. He knew what Harry meant. It made Ron feel a bit...inadequate, that he couldn't contribute something practical, something useful, for a full week. But Harry had a point. Ron wouldn't be good for anything if he exhausted himself again.

'Okay,' he said at last. 'I'll be Seer-free for a week.'

Hermione let out a sigh of relief. 'Good,' she said.

'But,' said Ron at once, 'I want to know everything that goes on, okay? No keeping stuff from me just because you're worried. If I'm going to rest up like this I deserve to be kept informed, got it?'

'Yes, sir,' said Harry, smirking.

'Piss off, Harry,' said Ron, but his mouth turned up at the corners.

'We promise, Ron,' said Ginny. 'Full disclosure.'

'Hermione?' said Ron, eyeing her closely.

'Full disclosure,' she agreed.

That night, Ron retired early; Hermione gave him a lovely kiss good-night, but demurred from staying in his room. In the end, Ron decided it was for best. After brushing his teeth and collapsing into bed, he barely had the strength to remember taking the Dreamless Sleep Draught Madam Pomfrey had given him.

Next day, Ron awoke feeling groggy and irritable. He automatically reached for his dream diary--he had only last week started on his fourth such journal--when he remembered he'd taken a sleeping potion the night before. He cursed Firenze for ordering him to take a week away from his Seer practice, and then cursed himself for overtaxing himself to begin with.

If you hadn't done it, Fred and George could be dead right now.

Yeah, they're alive, but Fred's got a dead arm and George is a nutter.

Ron scowled and asked himself, for the hundredth time since he'd woken up, whether he could have tried harder, found them sooner.

A knock at his door broke his train of thought.

'Come in,' Ron called, pulling on a dressing gown and unlocking his door with a flick of his wand.

'Ah, good, you're up,' said Professor McGonagall. 'Get dressed, Mr. Weasley. You and your sister are to go to St. Mungo's this morning to see your brothers. You're excused from morning lessons. Be in Gryffindor tower in ten minutes.'

Ron thanked McGonagall and felt his stomach swoop with dread as she left the room. He didn't want to go visit his brothers in hospital. He felt horribly guilty to feel this way. Of course he should visit Fred and George--and yet the idea of seeing George, walking about in a daze the way Neville's mum had been, that time Ron had seen her back in fifth year, filled Ron with an icy sort of fear.

However, there was no choice. Ron pulled on some Muggle clothes and met McGonagall and Ginny in the common room; McGonagall arranged a Portkey for them. They landed in the hospital by nine in the morning, where they met Lupin and their parents.

It was both better and worse than Ron expected. Fred, at least, was awake and talking, and although his eyes were tired and a bit haunted, he was in surprisingly good humor, all things considered.

Fred doesn't know about George yet, that's why, thought Ron, and indeed Ron and Ginny were under strict orders not to mention George's true condition. As far as Fred was concerned, George was in a kind of magically-induced coma that would take a bit of time to come out of. Ron was only too happy to go along with this deception.

But George was another story, and the story was dreadful. They were sent to the Closed Ward, and found George lying mutely on a bed, his eyes staring, unblinking and glassy, up at the ceiling. Healer Smethwyck was standing over George with a clipboard in hand, scratching out notes on a piece of parchment with an old quill.

'We've just started him on treatments,' he said. 'I wouldn't expect anything today.'

An understatement, thought Ron miserably.

He couldn't help but wonder if this was how a person looked after being Kissed by a Dementor. George's eyes were so blank and unseeing as to be almost soulless. His mouth was slightly open. He showed no sign of hearing Mrs. Weasley as she spoke softly to him, no sign that he felt at all the way she stroked her son's limp hand. The only sign that George was alive was the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

Ron wanted to look away, but he couldn't. His eyes were fixed horribly on his older brother, one of a pair of brothers who'd teased him his whole life, and Ron knew, in that moment, he would have given his own right arm just to have George turn his head, look him in the eye and call him 'ickle Ronnikins.'

Ginny was sitting on the other side of George's bed, and Mr. Weasley had his hands on his wife's shoulders. Ron stayed at the foot of George's bed, his throat working furiously, his eyes burning. At that moment, a bead of saliva trickled out of George's mouth. Something about this struck Ron; he felt it like a blow to the chest, and suddenly, he couldn't stay there a minute longer. He fled the room with a choked cough and raced down a corridor, searching for the men's loo.

He found it, burst inside, leaned over the nearest sink, and vomited. He swallowed the threat of tears--he could not cry now. If he did, he wouldn't stop. Instead, he drove his fist into the solid tile on the wall, grunting as he did so. He punched the wall again, and a third time, until the pain coursed over and beyond the anger and grief inside him. He looked down, breathing hard, to find his knuckles bleeding. His hand was swollen and throbbing painfully, but he didn't care. The pain was good, it anchored him, it kept the tears at bay.

He was vaguely aware of the door to the men's room opening, of rushed footsteps coming towards him.

'Ron?' said Ginny tremulously, and then her eyes fell on his hand.

'Merlin, Ron, what have you done?' she said, her voice shaking angrily. She grabbed his wrist and pulled his injured hand toward her.

'This is the men's room, Ginny,' said Ron angrily, trying to pull his hand away, but her grip was like iron, and in truth, the pain was starting to get to him now.

'You don't say?' said Ginny sarcastically, pulling out her wand with her free hand and waving it over his swollen knuckles. The throbbing and puffiness eased somewhat. 'Idiot. Even you can't put a hole through tile with your fist.'

She held onto his hand tightly and then pressed her other palm against his face, and he felt some of his anguish, his fury ease. She winced slightly as his emotions flowed into her and then back out, and stepped back.

'Better?' she said.

Ron looked down at his sister. 'I'm sorry,' he said, feeling very stupid. 'I just...he looked so...lost.'

'He won't be that way forever,' said Ginny. 'He'll come back, Ron.'

'You really believe that?'

'Yeah, I do,' said Ginny. 'Now stop being a prat and punching things. You need both hands for Quidditch, remember? George would kick your arse if you didn't help us win the Quidditch cup this year.'

She grinned at him.

He let out a breath and held her gaze for a moment, and then, with a smiled on his face he pulled her into a hug.

'I love you, Gin,' he murmured. He hadn't said it to her in ages, but now seemed like a good time.

Ginny gave a sniff and hugged him back; she seemed tiny in his arms.

'You're getting mushy on me,' she said.

'Yeah, well,' he said, still hugging her, 'don't tell anyone.'

Next day started on a grim note. The front page of The Daily Prophet announced yet another break-out from Azkaban. This one, thankfully, had been done in the dead of night and no one had been hurt. However…

'Wormtail's gone,' said Harry darkly, as his eyes scanned the page. 'Nobody knows where he went.'

'"The Ministry speculates that Mr. Pettigrew has gone into hiding,"' Hermione read. '"Last year Mr. Pettigrew gave evidence against many other Death Eaters in return for a reduced sentence. Given Mr. Pettigrew's aid to the Ministry's efforts, it is likely that he has gone underground in order to protect himself from retaliation from You-Know-Who or his followers."'

'Do you think the damn press will ever get around to using Voldemort's actual name?' Harry groused.

'Nope,' said Ron. 'Fear sells.'

After this rather grim news, however, the week flew by, and even with Ron's forced respite from Seer activities, he found himself so busy that he almost didn't miss meditating or recording dreams in his journal.

Almost.

Even though Ron, Harry and Hermione were all busy with schoolwork, finishing up job applications, Quidditch practice and preparations for N.E.W.Ts--Hermione had set up a study schedule for them and Ron knew it was pointless to resist--Ron was nonetheless frustrated by his inability to find out more information about Nott and Goyle.

Blaise and Daphne's efforts had turned up nothing new. Indeed, it almost seemed that from the moment Harry had turned over the Invisibility Cloak to them, Nott and Goyle suddenly stopped talking to each other.

'They're taking no chances, looks like,' said Blaise, in an annoyed voice. 'Goyle's even gone back to his dumb-as-dirt act.'

By mid-week, with Blaise and Daphne's efforts looking more and more fruitless, Ron had, unbeknownst to Harry, Hermione or Ginny, gone to Firenze to plead with him to start up Seer activity early, but Firenze had steadfastly refused. This second refusal caused Ron to seriously consider going behind Firenze's back anyway, but again, Ron gave up on the idea, and wondered at himself that he could lie to his other teachers but not to Firenze, who, technically, wasn't a regular teacher of his at all.

Harry and Ginny began Empath training together in earnest. The very reason for them doing it gave Ron pause: Harry knew that Ginny was carrying around memories of what Tom Riddle had told her when she was being possessed by the diary, and both of them believed that the information could be helpful to Harry in some way. The challenge would be to tap into those memories, as many of them, Ginny was sure, she had suppressed as a means of coping with the trauma of her ordeal. The training seemed to take a lot out of both of them, and both Ron found himself in the ironic position of lecturing Harry and Ginny not to go wearing themselves down as he had done. The training sessions revealed little except Tom Riddle's childhood memories, which, according to Ginny, ranged from the depressing to the tragic. Nobody was sure how such information might help Harry, but both Harry and Ginny were convinced that the connections they made with each other certainly couldn't hurt.

By Friday, with both of them looking exhausted and with Ron having to nudge Harry awake, frequently, as they dragged through lessons, Ron had to wonder otherwise.

In the meantime, Ron occupied himself with helping Hermione slog through her own pile of job applications. She seemed to be looking into half a dozen possible careers, ranging from Healer to various jobs within the Ministry. One application was, quite bizarrely, blank, but then Hermione explained that was the application for being an Unspeakable, and that filling it out meant the candidate had to break whatever charms were hiding the questions, and then put said charms back on the application when finished.

'Unspeakable?' said Ron. 'That means I can't ask you how your day went, can I?'

'You could ask, but I probably wouldn't be able to tell you,' said Hermione, smiling at him.

Harry, meanwhile, did another test run with the potion. Ron had mixed feelings about the whole thing. On the one hand, it gave him some hope that Harry really did seem to respond so well to the potion. He also seemed to be getting stronger at using Occlumency whilst under its influence, which Professor Hopkirk and Professor Snape both declared was a good sign (although Snape's assessment was decidedly more cautious).

On the other hand, the mere fact that Snape was there irked Ron. Even if the Potions Master's help on the stuff had been indispensable, Ron hated the negativity the professor carried around with him. Hermione insisted Snape had some right to feel a bit down, considering he'd have to live under what was little better than house arrest for the past several months, owing to his cover as a spy being blown, but Ron merely grumbled that Snape could at least say something positive about Harry's progress, instead of lecturing Harry that he still wasn't practicing his Occlumency enough.

'I mean, Merlin, Harry's only got to save the ruddy world,' Ron grumped one night as he helped Hermione organize her job applications. 'You'd think with that, you know, inconsequential detail Snape'd be a bit nicer about it all.'

'He's a very bitter man,' said Hermione.

'Really?' said Ron sarcastically. 'I hadn't noticed.'

Hermione gave him one of her looks and he shut up, but then he'd grinned at her and they started kissing and the job applications were soon forgotten.

At least my sex life is still good.

After the first week, Ron forced himself to ease back into Seeing. The first day, he didn't meditate at all, but he did stop taking the Dreamless Sleep Draught, which was a huge relief. Even if being dream-free had its benefits, Ron always hated the heavy, groggy feeling it gave him in the morning hours. He was hardly a morning person, anyway, and that particular potion always made things worse.

That first night, he dreamed. He dreamt of Crookshanks chasing a familiar, funny looking, very tiny man who was only about six inches tall; it was as if the man had drunk a vat of Shrinking Solution. He dreamt of Ginny placing her hands on Harry's forehead and a sudden burst of light. He dreamt, rather oddly, of the Sorting Hat; it was singing a new song in German, but Ron was sure he didn't know a word of German. He dreamt of Lucius Malfoy, in a dark corridor, waving his wand as small flashes of light swirled about him. He dreamt of a green-eyed, brown-hair man in a tunic carrying a jeweled sword; the man held the sword out to Ron, but as Ron reached to take it, Harry intervened, saying 'You'd better not, mate. I think that's for me.' Ron argued and tried to snatch the sword for himself but Harry was faster. Ron dreamed of a flash of light and saw blood on the blade of the sword, and his voice echoed from somewhere very distant. 'Finish it, Harry...'

Ron awoke the second day of what he dubbed his 'return to Seer-dom' and made a grab for his journal. He shook his head several times to clear it, and wrote down everything he remembered. He wasn't sure whether it was a good sign or not that he hadn't seen any visions of Wormtail or other Death Eaters.

He told Hermione, Harry and Ginny all that he had seen; Hermione put down the relevant points in her new list. Ron was particularly bothered by the vision of Lucius Malfoy; it was so fast and vague that Ron wasn't sure if he were seeing some future event, or if in fact Ron was observing Malfoy doing something in the near past.

Something while Fred and George were being held prisoner.

The evening of that second day, Ron meditated, in the general sense, for about fifteen minutes. The images were disjointed, strange, and disturbing, and they flew by so fast that he forgot most of them almost at once, but a few stood out. He saw Pansy Parkinson standing at a cauldron, stirring something; in the next instant she was screaming and Death Eaters were ripping at her clothes and laughing. He saw Ginny pressing her hands to Harry's forehead again as a warm, golden glow surrounded them. He saw the sword clatter across a stone floor, blood smeared on its blade. He heard a loud, unearthly scream and saw bone-white, skeletal hands lift in the air; they, too, were covered in blood.

By mid-week, Ron's visions were clearer and yet it was as if they began to cycle on themselves. They kept recurring in a kind of nonsensical sequence. He remembered that Firenze had told him that recurring images and themes typically meant something important or imminent. The sword kept appearing. The hands that had thrust in the air, the bloodied hands that were like the hands of a skeleton...those, too, made repeat appearances. As did the green-eyed man, although his actions varied. Sometimes he held the jeweled sword. Other times he just stood there and called, in a distant voice, that Harry and Ron were going the wrong way down a dark corridor.

He discussed all this with Harry, Hermione and Ginny, of course. He still didn't fully trust Blaise and Daphne, but the two of them, at the very least, were giving Ron and Hermione regular reports after the weekly prefect meetings. So far, they said, they hadn't been able to catch Nott or Goyle in any compromising situation.

Of course, this was probably due to the fact that McGonagall was now aware of the existence of the secret passage on the fourth floor. After a few abortive attempts to get past it themselves, Ron and Hermione determined the best course would be to tell McGonagall about the passage. They consulted with Harry, Ginny, Blaise and Daphne, all of whom agreed, but Blaise asked Hermione to not mention him or Daphne's involvement.

'Blaise, it might be safer for you if McGonagall knew what you were doing,' said Hermione. 'What if you're spying on Nott and he catches you out? You could get hurt.'

'I know,' said Blaise, 'but if it's all the same to you, the lower the profile Daphne and I keep the better. And...anyway, if we're going to tell anyone we'd rather tell Snape. He's our Head of House, we trust him.'

Ron bit his tongue and said nothing; even after all these years and the risks Snape had taken, Ron was still a bit wary of the potions master. Given that none of them had ever figured out just why Snape had stopped being a Death Eater, Ron figured it was best to keep an eye on the Potions Master and not get too cozy with him.

Ron and Hermione, therefore, had gone to McGonagall the previous week, while Ron was still on hiatus from Seer activities, and informed her of the passage's existence, leaving out all references to Daphne and Blaise (Hermione concocted a story that she and Ron had found Goyle sneaking out on the night they were on patrols, and when they tried to follow him, they couldn't, owing to the invisible barrier).

McGonagall was incensed; she had taken the trouble to locate all seven of the secret passages leading in and out of Hogwarts, and she was damn sure she had sealed them all up. Ron was surprised to hear of this, but then again, he, Harry and Hermione hadn't snuck out of the castle through one of the passages all year, so it wasn't as if he would have known about this.

'Obviously this is more serious than I thought,' she said, sounding very unnerved. 'I'll need new wards on all seven passages at once. If I can't get that invisible barrier to come down in that fourth floor passage, well...at least I can put up new barriers around it. This might also be a good time to redo the wards on the castle itself.'

So by the end of the week that first week from Ron's recovery, all the passages in the castle, along with the castle itself, were sealed again, with new wards.

'So that's why Goyle hasn't been going up to the fourth floor passage,' said Daphne, after the following week's prefect meeting. 'McGonagall's got new wards and barriers.'

They all stood in the staff room, which Hermione had sealed with Silencing and Imperturbable Charms after the other prefects had left. Harry and Ginny had quietly joined Ron, Hermione, Blaise and Daphne.

'Do you think they'll hold?' said Blaise. 'McGonagall's wards? I'm amazed someone could get through her first set.'

'That does raise the question,' said Hermione. 'McGonagall might not be Dumbledore, but she also is very powerful. It would have taken a long time for anyone to break through her wards.'

'You know, even if Goyle isn't totally thick I can't see him taking down all those wards,' said Ron.

'Maybe he and Nott both worked on it,' Blaise suggested.

'That's possible, but that means they were both sneaking around a lot,' said Hermione. 'With the all the extra security...it'd be really hard for them both to keep sneaking about without getting caught at least once.'

'Neither of them have a handy Invisibility Cloak, either,' said Blaise. Ron, Harry and Hermione all looked at him with raised eyebrows.

'I went digging through their stuff,' said the Slytherin, shrugging and without a trace of remorse in his voice. 'Figured I might be able to find something incriminating, but nothing. They've covered their tracks.'

'Or they figured you'd start poking round their stuff,' said Harry.

'What about Malfoy?' Ron asked. 'We haven't really heard or seen much of him lately.'

'What about him?' said Daphne. 'He keeps entirely to himself; he's either always at the library or with Snape.'

'He wouldn't be involved,' said Ginny firmly.

'Not unless he fancies joining up with the lot who murdered Pansy,' said Daphne. 'They had a really weird thing between them but...he cared about her in his way, I guess.'

'We're missing something,' said Harry, sounding frustrated.

'Why don't we just grab them and make them drink a bit of Veritaserum?' said Ron.

'We would have done that if we were able to get into Snape's storeroom,' said Blaise unabashedly. 'But he's kept it locked up tight as a drum since Christmas.'

'He must be working on something important,' said Daphne. 'That's the only reason we can make out why he'd go to all the trouble, warding the storeroom like that.'

Harry exchanged looks with Ron, but said nothing.

'Makes McGonagall's wards on the castle look shabby,' Blaise was saying.

'I take it you've tried to get in,' said Ron dryly.

Blaise gave him a look that told Ron all he needed to know.

'Anyway,' said Blaise, 'what now? Do we keep on with this?'

'I don't see any other alternative,' said Hermione. 'As long as you both are careful.'

'Always,' said Blaise, and with that, he and Daphne left the staff room. Hermione locked the door behind them.

'Well,' said Hermione, 'we don't seem to be getting very far on their end. Maybe we should tell them everything.'

'No,' said Harry at once. 'They're too close. Nott already suspects something. Better to keep Blaise and Daphne in the dark for now. But...you know, maybe I should give them the Marauders' Map. That way they can keep up with Nott and Goyle, figure out where they're going.'

Ron bit his lip, but nodded. 'Much as I hate the idea of you giving them that, too, Harry...I think you're right.' He looked at Hermione, and then back at Harry. 'But maybe you should let Hermione, you know, fix it first.'

A few more weeks passed. Harry gave Blaise and Daphne the map the following day, after a Potions lesson. They were both stunned and impressed by it, and promised to take good care of it. Ron could only imagine what would happen to them if they did try to tamper with it in some way.

Giving Blaise and Daphne the map, however, didn't seem to do much good. Even with the map, neither of them was able to glean any useful information. The times they were able to use the map, neither Nott nor Goyle attempted to sneak out. And Blaise and Daphne reported, in frustrated tones, that in public, Nott and Goyle never huddled together anymore to speak in hushed tones. It was as if whatever they were planning had already happened--Ron shuddered to think of this, given that he'd had no visions of any kind on that front--or that their plan was on hold for the moment. Either way, it was quite maddening, to feel as though they were on the brink of finding out something important, but were unable to do so.

Meanwhile, Ron and the others took up their old habit of checking the paper every day. By the time three days had passed after the Azkaban break-out, the story had been relegated to a single paragraph in the back pages of the newspaper, and now it merited less than this. The Ministry, it was said, was 'working round the clock' to apprehend the escapees. Wormtail was already being presumed dead, and Ron half believed it could be true. He was surprised that Wormtail had escaped, anyway. It was surely safer for him to be under the Ministry's watchful eye, and yet, when the opportunity had arisen, he'd fled.

'He's probably dead by now,' said Harry hopefully. 'I can't imagine Voldemort not getting one of his toadies to do Wormtail in.'

'Wouldn't I have had some hint of that?' said Ron. 'That arsehole posed as my pet for a good few years. Surely I would have seen something if he'd snuffed it.'

But would I have? Didn't Firenze tell you that people who don't want to be found--people who are really evil--can close themselves off so that I can't see them?

Yeah, he did. And Wormtail certainly qualifies as evil.

'As long as we don't see any suspicious looking rats around,' said Hermione, 'I think we're okay.'

Needless to say, all of them were being more careful. They even told Blaise and Daphne to keep their eyes on the map for any sign of the Animagus known as Peter Pettigrew; the two Slytherins dutifully reported back, on several occasions, that they hadn't seen any sign of Pettigrew, on the map or otherwise, in human or rat form.

'Not that there's much difference between the two,' Ron said.

Harry, Ron and Hermione began to study for N.E.W.Ts in earnest. Ron and Ginny had begun to receive regular reports from their mother about George; after three weeks of treatment, he still wasn't talking, but he had stopped staring blankly at the ceiling, was sitting up on his own, and sometimes looked at and seemed to recognize his parents. Augustus Pye, Mrs. Weasley informed them, took this as a very good sign.

Ron and the others continued to hold weekly meetings with Blaise and Daphne, always just after a prefect meeting. The Quidditch final was nearly at hand, but for all Ron's hard work in practices, he found he couldn't care all that much about the outcome. With every passing day he felt more and more restless. He was still having the same cycle of visions every time he meditated. When he finally decided to start up with Tactile Sight again, using Harry's broom, he only saw the same images over and over again. Always the sword. Always Harry using it. Always Ron telling Harry to 'finish it', whatever 'it' was. The brief flashes of Lucius Malfoy in a dark corridor. And over and over again, the last horrible minutes of Pansy Parkinson's life.

'I dunno why I keep seeing her,' said Ron grumpily, on a warm Sunday morning as they sat in the staff room again, waiting for yet another prefect meeting to start. Harry and Ginny were in an Empath training session.

'Especially when I'm holding Harry's broom,' Ron went on. 'It makes no sense. Pansy never had anything to do with Harry.'

'You saw her die, Ron,' said Hermione sympathetically. 'Maybe when you...see death, it stays with you a lot longer. And she died so horribly.'

'Maybe,' said Ron. In fact, Hermione had a very good point, but it didn't make seeing Pansy's death any easier. 'At least I've got that Pensieve. The worst of that memory's in there, thank god.'

'If you ask me,' said Hermione, 'the sword is what's important. I mean, not to discount Pansy at all but...you're right, she had nothing to do with Harry. The sword, though--you keep Seeing that over and over, and that man who's probably Godric Gryffindor. It's as if Gryffindor is giving Harry the sword to use on Voldemort.'

'That's what I'm thinking,' said Ron. 'I mean, yeah, that part seems obvious. But why do I try to take it, I wonder?'

'I don't know,' said Hermione. 'But it seems like your vision is telling us that...that Harry really could be the Heir of Gryffindor, if there is one.'

Ron had forgotten about that possibility. 'That's possible,' he said. 'But...Hermione, surely Dumbledore would have known if that was the case. I mean, yeah, Dumbledore kept some stuff from Harry for a while but...wouldn't he have said something to Harry before he died? Told him the truth about everything?'

Hermione started to argue, but then she stopped and looked as though she were considering Ron's words.

'I hadn't thought of that,' she said. 'But, you know, even if Harry's isn't Gryffindor's heir, or if there isn't an heir at all, there must be some connection between them, if you keep seeing them interacting like that. I mean, it's not like they ever could in real life, given that Gryffindor's been dead a thousand years.'

'Fair enough,' said Ron, 'but what could that connection be? The sword?'

'That,' said Hermione, 'but I think there's something deeper as well. I just can't figure out what it is.'

'And Lucius Malfoy,' said Ron darkly. 'I know you and Harry think I'm only having visions about him because of...because of what he did to Fred and George, but...I'm telling you, it doesn't look that way to me. Lucius is alone and he's doing something. I just can't tell what it is.'

Ron had already expressed all this to Harry and Ginny as well; both agreed that the sword seemed to be the important thing. They had earlier in the week gone to McGonagall to ask about the sword, and her curt reply was that it was 'very safe,' but that if Harry really felt like he needed it, she was happy to let him have it. Harry had demurred. Keeping the sword in his room, he had said, didn't seem like such a good idea, at least not at the moment.

Ron and Hermione were about to speak further on the whole subject but were cut off by the arrival of the prefects.

Blaise and Daphne came in, both looking pale and worried, and Ron felt his senses go on alert. As Blaise passed, he muttered, 'I've got something.'

Whatever Blaise had got would have to wait, though. Hermione exchanged glances with him, and then called the meeting to order.

Ron forced himself to pay attention; it was his job at this meeting to pass out and to explain the memoranda on the security rules for the upcoming Quidditch final. Security would be exceptionally tight this year, owing to last year's attack.

'We can't have a repeat of last year,' Ron said gravely, and Padma Patil shuddered.

The meeting ended shortly thereafter, and again, Blaise and Daphne hung back. Harry and Ginny appeared only a few minutes later, both looking worn out. Ron quickly secured the door and the staff room as Hermione arranged six chairs in a circle.

Blaise and Daphne didn't sit.

'What?' Ron asked, suddenly feeling alarmed. He had never seen the Slytherin prefects look so unnerved. Blaise, in particular, looked exhausted and his normally olive skin was pale.

'Last night,' said Blaise, 'I stayed up all night, under the cloak. I wanted to keep a look out. Daph and I gave up on the map and tried to follow those two around. They're just being too careful. I figured maybe I should just wait for them to come around.'

There was a pause as he took a deep breath.

'Good thing I did,' Blaise said. 'Nott came into the common room right around four o'clock in the morning. Had his wand out, was being really quiet. He checked his watch and sat down next to the fireplace. Like he was waiting for someone.'

'Was it Goyle?' Ron asked.

'Yeah,' said Blaise. 'Nott sat down and not thirty seconds later he's talking to Goyle. Only technically, Goyle wasn't in the room.'

For a moment, nobody seemed to know what Blaise was talking about, but Ginny's eyes suddenly widened.

'He was in the fireplace,' she breathed.

'His head was,' said Blaise. 'Goyle used Floo Powder to talk to Nott.'

'That's...odd,' said Hermione.

'I'll say,' said Blaise fervently. 'Seeing as I saw Goyle turn in several hours earlier. He never came back downstairs. All of a sudden his head's in the fire. It made no sense--if they were trying to have a secret conversation, why not just talk upstairs with an Imperturbable Charm on one of their beds?'

'That does make a lot more sense,' Ron agreed.

'It gets weirder,' said Blaise. 'I was going to run upstairs and try to fetch the map but there wasn't time. They started talking and I got the sense they wouldn't be talking for long. I figured it was better to just listen to them. Turns out I was right, about them keeping it short. The conversation lasted barely five minutes, and they were speaking German again. I couldn't make out everything they were saying but I caught parts of it, and I put stuff together from there.'

'What did they say?' Hermione asked.

'Nott was bitching at him about not showing up sooner,' said Blaise. 'And Goyle says he couldn't get back inside sooner, on account of all McGonagall's wards.'

'What?' said Ron, confused. 'That makes no sense. Goyle's been here all this time. He couldn't have gone off the grounds without someone knowing about it. There's way too much security.'

'You don't have to tell me that, Weasley,' said Blaise. 'But Goyle was there, in the fire, telling Nott he couldn't get to him last night. Somehow, last night he got off grounds without anyone knowing.'

'But you said he never came downstairs that night?' said Harry. 'Could he have flown out?'

'No,' said Hermione at once, and she looked very upset. 'McGonagall took no chances with these wards. She designed them specifically so that any student trying to get off grounds, or anyone trying to get in without permission, would set off an alert. Even if Goyle was flying McGonagall or Filch or Snape would have known about it.'

'So how the hell did Goyle get out last night without setting off the alarm bells?' Ron asked.

'Because apparently Goyle's been dismantling the new wards bit by bit,' said Blaise.

The room was filled with gasps.

'That's...that's not possible,' Hermione said. 'Goyle can't have done that, not by himself. And even if he did, he couldn't have done it unless he saw McGonagall put them up in the first place.'

'And he doesn't have an Invisibility Cloak,' said Harry. 'You said so yourself.'

'How on earth could he have gotten close enough to see what McGonagall was doing?' Ron asked.

'I don't know,' said Blaise, sounding frustrated. 'I'm just telling you what he said. Goyle told Nott things were close to being finished. Said he got what he was supposed to get and now it was Nott's turn.'

'What did Goyle get?' Ginny asked.

'Goyle never said,' said Blaise. 'But Nott said something about a sword. I'm not sure what, but I know I heard the word Klinge, which is German for sword.'

The silence in the room was so sudden, so complete, that one could have heard a pin drop. Ron exchanged horrified looks with Harry, Hermione and Ginny.

'What?' said Blaise.

'Nothing,' said Hermione quickly, and she gave Ron, Harry and Ginny significant looks as she covered for them. 'Er...a sword? Did Nott say which sword? I mean, there are probably a hundred or more in the castle. We have all those suits of armor, and the trophy room has some hanging on plaques...'

'No, he didn't say,' said Blaise, eyeing Hermione suspiciously. 'But that's not the important part, anyway.'

Ron bit back a retort, but at that moment, he couldn't imagine what could be worse than Goyle managing to tear down nearly all of McGonagall's wards and Nott preparing to steal the sword of Gryffindor. Because there was no other sword in the castle, Ron was certain, that was as important or powerful as that one. And suddenly Ron's vision began to make sense to him in a new way.

There was no question that Harry needed the sword to kill Voldemort. But somehow, Voldemort had figured this out, and wanted the sword for himself. To use against Harry.

'What happened?' Ron asked instead, forcing himself to focus on Blaise's story.

'I followed Nott back upstairs,' said Blaise. 'I couldn't climb into my own bed--I'd kept the curtains shut and put a charm round them so nobody could look in. But everyone else had their curtains at least half-open. Including Goyle, who was snoring like a pig.'

Another collective gasp rose in the room.

'So, unless Goyle can be in two places at once...' said Blaise.

'...one of the people Blaise saw last night wasn't Goyle at all,' said Daphne.

'Bloody hell,' said Harry and Ron together.

'I don't know why we didn't think of it before,' said Daphne.

'Remember how I said, a few weeks ago, Goyle had gone back to his dumb-as-dirt routine?' said Blaise. 'Goyle really is as stupid as we think he is. Somebody else has been impersonating him, getting inside the castle, and sneaking back out again.'

'Dear god,' said Hermione. 'And whoever this person is, he's nearly broken down the wards again.'

'Whoever's doing this must be really powerful,' said Daphne.

Blaise began to pace; he looked very agitated. 'What pisses me off is I couldn't get to the map in time. Not without alerting Nott. I had to wait until he was asleep to fetch the map, and by then it was too late. Whoever it was that was in that fireplace was long gone.'

'Dammit!' Harry muttered.

'I'm sorry,' said Blaise, and he looked genuinely remorseful. 'If I'd had the map on me I could have found out who that person was, and maybe I could have seen if he'd gotten help on those wards. It didn't even occur to me to keep it on me all the time.'

He reached into his pocket and extracted the map. 'Here, take it,' he said. 'Maybe we should trade off using it, or something. Try working in shifts. See if we can catch one of them out when they don't expect. It looks like they've been operating in the early morning hours, when everyone's asleep. I suppose that should have occurred to use sooner.'

'It's okay,' said Harry, as he took the map.

'What you've told us is really helpful,' said Hermione, addressing Blaise and Daphne. 'But...we should tell McGonagall, right now. All of us.'

'Let's go,' Blaise agreed. The six of them hurried out of the staff room, but as they rounded the corner to head to McGonagall's office, they were greeted with the sight of a dozen Aurors running at them, with their wands out. However, they didn't seem to see Ron and the others as their targets, as they sprinted past the six of them without saying a word.

'What the--' Ron muttered as he watched them race past.

Just then, bells began to ring loudly throughout the corridors. Ron instinctively yanked out his wand and saw the others do the same. At that moment, McGonagall's voice, magically reverberating through the corridors, boomed over them.

'Attention students: this is an emergency. Please return directly to your house common rooms. All house prefects should also report to their common rooms, and seal the entrances. Security trolls will be posted outside each common room entrance. Students are to remain there until it is declared safe to leave!'

'What's going on?' Hermione cried.

'Hey!' Ron yelled, to another group of Aurors that were rushing past them. 'What's up?'

'Attack in Hogsmeade,' one of them barked. 'Bunch of giants on a rampage.' The Auror didn't even stop to look at Ron or the others as he raced past.

'Giants,' Hermione whispered. 'Oh, no.'

'We have to get back to Slytherin,' said Daphne.

'Go,' said Hermione. 'Hurry!' The two Slytherins raced away in the direction of the dungeons.

'We should get back, too,' Ginny urged.

Ron opened his mouth to speak, when suddenly he was overcome with dizziness. He grunted and stumbled as the colors in front of his eyes began to swirl.

'Ron?' said Hermione anxiously.

Ron sank to his knees and his eyes went wide as the vision came into focus.

'Ron!' Hermione cried.

'I think he's having a vision,' said Harry, his voice sounding very far away.

Ron blinked and he found himself in a dark, dank corridor. No, not even a corridor. It was a passageway, held up by rotting bricks and damp earth. He squinted up ahead and saw a dim light; the light was moving, flickering softly. As Ron edged closer, he saw a tall, robed, hooded figure. The figure's right arm was moving gracefully in the air, tracing patterns with a wand. Small flashes of light popped and glimmered and then there was a great, shuddering ripple of energy and something seemed to fall down, although that something was invisible. The robed figure spoke.

'Hurry up!' the man snapped, for the voice did, indeed, belong to a man.

And then Ron heard, from a distance, the pounding of footsteps. Someone was running. Another light, a bouncing, dim light, was far off in the distance, but it was moving closer.

'Hurry up!' the robed man hissed, and suddenly a second figure came into view; he, or she, was also wearing black robes and a hood obscured his/her face. The second, smaller hooded figure stopped in front of the first, panting. He had a strange lump beneath his robes.

'Did you get it?' said the hooded man.

'Got it,' panted the second figure--also a man, by the sound of it.

'Let's go,' said the first man, and he turned and Ron stumbled backwards as the sight of gleaming, white-blond hair came into view...

'NO!'

'Ron!' Hermione cried, slapping Ron gently on the face. 'Wake up!'

Ron blinked once and then leapt to his feet; his whole body was seething with adrenaline.

'Lucius Malfoy!' he roared. 'He's the one who took down the wards. He's in the passage right now, he could be getting away. We have to go after him!'

'Wh-what?' Ginny gasped. 'Ron, what are you--'

'Don't you get it?' Ron yelled. 'The giants, the attack in Hogsmeade was a diversion! Come on! We have to get to the fourth floor corridor!'

A/N: Thanks a million times over to lina and Buckbeaky, two wonderful betas who have stuck with this story and made it so much better!

And yeah, I know. The cliffhanger is mean. Hopefully the next chapter won't take quite as long!