Chapter 24: Revelations and Secrets

Harry looked at his own writing, then at Padfoot's, then up at the note. He leaned in close to the Map and whispered a question. The answer shot him onto his feet.

"Professor Dumbledore," he said aloud, getting everyone's attention. "The note's a fake. And I can prove it."

"Do so, by all means, Harry," Dumbledore said, steepling his fingers.

I'd better make absolutely sure, I know the Map shouldn't be able to lie, but just in case... "Remus, Sirius was left-handed, wasn't he?"

Remus nodded. "Why?"

"I just wanted to be sure. He was my comparison."

"Comparison for what, exactly?" Snape said dryly.

"Fred Weasley's left-handed," Harry said, making Fred's mother and wife both stare at him. "And this note was written by a right-handed person."

"Why would the Death Eaters make such an obvious mistake?" McGonagall asked.

"George is right-handed," Harry said quickly, putting it together in his head as he spoke. "Whoever forged this must have gotten a sample of George's handwriting and either mistaken him for Fred or figured that since they're twins, they write as alike as they do everything else. But they don't. They favor different hands."

"Are you certain, Harry?" Dumbledore asked gently. "It seems odd that you know this fact, which neither Fred's mother nor his wife are cognizant of."

"I'm positive, sir." Harry paused, then realized he'd have to say it to convince them. "I used it to blackmail them."

Whatever reaction this might have gotten was forestalled by the sudden eruption of green flames in Dumbledore's fireplace. Alicia Spinnet-Weasley stumbled out, covered in ashes, and managed to say three words before she started coughing. But the three words were enough.

"Fred's all right."

Mrs. Weasley and Ginny let out shrieks of joy. Angelina gasped and hugged Lee, who was grinning madly. Hermione grabbed Ron's hand and squeezed it hard, until he pulled her into a hug. Harry felt a great weight lift from him.

"Where is he?" Dumbledore asked.

"At St. Mungo's," Alicia said, brushing ash from her face. "Angelina, he wants you."

"I'm on my way," Angelina said, with a look of half-relief, half-fury on her face. Harry was rather glad he wasn't Fred – he suspected Fred was going to catch hell for scaring her like this.

To his surprise, and embarrassment, Angelina detoured on her way to the fireplace and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you, Harry," she said.

"I didn't do anything," Harry protested. "Alicia was already on her way, you would have known in another minute anyway."

"You don't take compliments well, do you," Angelina said with a small smile. "Thank you anyway." She left without further delay.

"Don't just stand there," Lee urged Alicia. "What happened?"

"Do you know what they were doing when the attack happened?" Alicia asked the room at large. Shaking heads greeted her. "They were testing out Metamorphmagus Mints," she said with some disgust. "A new, longer-lasting formula. And George grabbed a reverser before he ran outside to fight, but Fred didn't."

"So he looked like someone else," McGonagall said in dawning comprehension. "And he was probably unconscious, so he couldn't tell anyone who he was."

"Exactly. He's a bit banged-up, but he's going to be all right."

Lee rolled his eyes. "That's just like him, going outside with someone else's face on. Sir, can I go down to the Great Hall and find Katie?" he asked Dumbledore. "I owled her when it happened, if she's gotten it she's probably frantic. I should tell her everything's all right."

"And I should get back," Alicia said, turning back to the fireplace.

"I'll go with you," said Mrs. Weasley, rising. "Harry, dear, thank you so much."

"You're welcome," Harry mumbled, feeling more embarrassed than ever when she kissed him too. Do I have a "Kiss Me" sign on my back that I don't know about?

"You four should get some breakfast," Dumbledore said in Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny's direction as Alicia and Mrs. Weasley Flooed away, the usual twinkle in his eyes firmly reinstated. "Classes start in half an hour."

Harry looked at his watch and refrained from swearing in front of the Headmaster, his Head of House, and the professor who had given him a detention which he had yet to serve. Dumbledore was overestimating – they had twenty minutes, if that.

"However, since your first class of the morning was cancelled," Dumbledore continued, "due to the fact that both your teachers are in St. Mungo's, you should have plenty of time. Miss Weasley, I think Professor McGonagall will overlook a little tardiness this one time – you have Transfiguration first today, I believe?"

Ginny nodded.

"Then off you go, and do not rush your meal. Eating in a leisurely way is far more pleasurable, not to mention better for the digestion."

"Mr. Potter," Snape said when they were most of the way out the door. Harry turned back, bracing himself for a tirade.

But, to his utter amazement, what Snape said was, "Good work."

"Look out the window," Ginny said once they'd reached the hall.

"What for?"

"To make sure the sky isn't falling."

"She's right, mate," Ron said. "Snape giving you a compliment has to mean the world is ending."

"Oh, stop it," Hermione said. "Professor Snape's allowed to give Harry compliments if he wants to."

"But that's the point, Hermione. He never wants to. He hates Harry. Something's off if he's suddenly handing out compliments."

"He's not handing them out," Hermione snapped. "It was one in a lifetime. And it was good deduction, Harry. But what did you need to blackmail the twins about?"

"Er, can we not talk about this right now?" Harry said feebly as they reached the doors into the Great Hall. "I kind of want to eat."

"Later, then," Hermione said in a "don't-even-think-of-forgetting" tone.

The rest of the day was pleasant, as if determined to make up for the rather nasty scare it had started with. Hagrid, for once, had something for them to study that was neither poisonous nor frightening. What it was, was invisible.

"There's nothing in there," Ron protested, staring at the cage Hagrid was holding, which indeed seemed to hold only a collection of branches and leaves.

"Ar, isn' there then?" Hagrid said with a smile. "Jus' yeh watch."

He reached in and pulled out – something. Or was he only pretending to hold whatever it was –

And then Harry's doubts resolved, as whatever-it-was revealed itself, to the gasps and amazed noises of the class.

It resembled a monkey or an ape, with oddly familiar-looking silvery fur and placid black eyes. It was probably about two feet long, Harry estimated, though against Hagrid everything looked small.

"Righ', then, who kin tell me wha' this little beauty is?" Hagrid asked, holding it up.

Predictably, Hermione's hand was up first. Hagrid called on her. "A demiguise," she said. "Herbivorous, peaceful creatures, which can become invisible at will. Their fur is used to weave Invisibility Cloaks."

"Very good, ten points ta Gryffindor," Hagrid said. "Who wants ter pet Killer?"

"Killer?" Harry repeated, laughing, as he came forward and stroked the demiguise's fur. It did, indeed, have the same water-in-solid feel as his Invisibility Cloak.

"Well, she's gotta have a name, doesn' she?" Hagrid said in tones of great reasonableness.

After lunch, Professor McGonagall made them draw names for partner work in Transfiguration, since they would be starting to learn the difficult and often dangerous spells involved in human transfiguration. Harry remembered, in his second year, overhearing McGonagall shouting at someone who had turned his friend into a badger. Apparently he hadn't been meant to.

McGonagall had an enchanted basket of names ready, which would ensure that the name of anyone who drew from it would be removed, and she started at the top of the class roster and worked down, skipping the people who were chosen.

Harry wasn't chosen before his turn came, so he got to draw for his partner. Ron had already been chosen, and Hermione's turn had passed, so Harry was actually rather happy to come up with Blaise Zabini's name in his hand. Blaise gave him a small smile from the back of the room.

He looks awful. I didn't notice that in Magical Creatures this morning – wait, was he even there?

"Now, spend a few minutes talking with your partner, get to know them a bit better," Professor McGonagall said. "You will be working together all of first term and possibly part of second as well. A certain level of trust is vital between partners."

Hermione said something under her breath that Harry wasn't sure he'd heard correctly, and wasn't sure he wanted to – because if it was what he thought it was, he'd never heard even Ron say anything like it.

He couldn't blame her, though. He would have sworn too if he'd landed Draco Malfoy as a more-or-less permanent Transfiguration partner.

Ron had looked decidedly relieved when Seamus Finnigan had pulled his name out, and they were chatting easily about Quidditch. Harry got up and went back to sit next to Blaise, watching Hermione make her way – slowly – across the room towards Malfoy, who was glowering at McGonagall.

"That's bad news all around," Blaise said frankly, following Harry's line of sight.

Harry laughed. "That's an understatement. Are you all right?"

Blaise shrugged. "I'll be fine. Are we still up for that run at three?"

"I think so. Meet us on the Quidditch pitch?"

"All right. What happened in Care of Magical Creatures this morning? I had to miss it."

"I noticed. Where were you?"

Blaise flicked another look towards Malfoy, who had pushed his chair back against the wall and was talking to Hermione from a distance of several feet. "Hospital wing," he said quietly.

"What, again?" Harry said in surprise.

"Yes – and I meant to ask you. How did you know I was there yesterday? No one saw me go in, and I was in Madame Pomfrey's office the whole time, so you couldn't have seen me from the hall..." Blaise let his sentence trail off and looked at Harry expectantly.

"Lucky guess," Harry said nonchalantly. He wasn't about to reveal the Marauders' Map to someone he barely knew, no matter how nice.

"Nice try." Blaise rummaged in his bag and pulled something out. It was the note they had written back and forth in Defense the day before. "Says right here, in your handwriting, 'I spotted you in hospital'. How?"

"How mad would you be if I told you I can't tell you how?"

"I wouldn't be mad, just curious. And Slytherins are dangerous when they're curious. We really hate other people having secrets," Blaise said lightly. "And we're very good at figuring them out."

"Is that a threat?" Harry asked, glancing around the room himself to be sure they weren't being overheard.

"No, it's a warning."

"What's the difference?"

"Whatever it is you have that told you where I was, I'm not planning to use it against you. I just want to know about it. That's the difference."

"I still can't tell you," Harry said. "Not yet."

"Not until you know me better," Blaise said. "Not until you're sure you can trust me."

Harry nodded. "Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about. If you looked only at the, ah, more vocal members of my House, you'd probably get the idea that no Slytherin can be trusted – and that's not entirely untrue."

"Really?"

"Well, let me put it this way. A Slytherin always has his own agenda. Always. He may agree entirely with your agenda, and be perfectly happy to help you out with it, but he will always have his own as well."

"So what's your agenda?" Harry asked, knowing he probably wouldn't get a fully truthful answer – but it couldn't hurt to ask.

"Passing my classes," Blaise countered. "And keeping my skin whole. I may ask for that dorm switch after all. Twice in two days is a little too much for me. But enough about me. Let's talk about you. Is it true McGonagall wanted to make you Gryffindor Quidditch captain and you turned her down?"

After Transfiguration was over, Harry, Ron, and Hermione headed back to the Gryffindor dorms to change into exercise clothes and get their magical pedometers, as Hermione informed them the devices were known. Blaise was waiting for them at the entrance to the Quidditch pitch. "I suppose we could do laps," he said, looking at the smooth expanse of grass.

"That'll get boring fast, though," Hermione said. "Why don't we run down by the lake?"

"Too many rocks," Ron objected. "My legs hurt enough already."

"We could do half a mile out along the lake and half a mile back," Harry suggested. "Then do the second mile around the pitch."

To his surprise, everyone seemed amenable to this idea, and they clipped the pedometers to their belts and began.

"Don't go too fast," Hermione warned. "We have a long way to go."

Long it was. And painful. By the time they turned around, Harry's legs already ached all over, and he knew he was only one-quarter done. Ron was wheezing a bit, his face rather red, but he wasn't complaining.

"Try... think... of something... else..." Hermione panted out. "Not... how much... your legs... hurt."

"What, your legs hurt?" Blaise returned jokingly.

Harry was extremely grateful to see the Quidditch pitch looming up over them. As they passed through the gates, the pedometers lit up briefly with a blinking blue light. Harry recalled Fleming telling them the devices would do this when they had run one mile.

One down, one to go. If I make it that far.

Ron's shirt was visibly sticking to him now. Harry's own felt unpleasantly damp. Hermione seemed to be running with her teeth gritted. Blaise had developed a bit of a limp that Harry didn't much like the looks of.

Four times around the Quidditch pitch equaled a mile, they discovered, and as the pedometers emitted a loud beeping sound, Harry slowed to a halt, feeling as if he wanted to fall over where he stood.

"Don't... stop," Hermione panted. "We have to... walk. Cool... down. We'll get... hurt if we don't."

Ron groaned. "No. Hell no. I am not going another step until I have to."

"Your muscles'll all cramp up if you don't," Blaise warned. "I had it happen once after a really intense game of Quidditch. It really hurts."

"All right..." Ron lurched to his feet, and Harry followed him, noticing that Blaise's limp was less pronounced now that they were moving more slowly. Or was it just that Blaise was hiding it better?

One slow, walking lap of the Quidditch pitch later, Harry felt a little better. At least, he no longer felt as if he wanted to find a hole and crawl in. Which was good, because as he checked his watch, he did the swearing that he'd refrained from that morning in front of Dumbledore. They had only ten minutes to get up to the castle, change, and get to Herbology, or whatever Blaise had at four o'clock.

"See you tomorrow," Blaise said as they entered the castle. "Harry, would you do me a favor? Ask Colleen if she'll meet me after dinner – she knows where."

"All right. See you tomorrow."

After Herbology and dinner, Harry went back to the Gryffindor common room and sank thankfully into an armchair.

"So," Ron said, plopping into the chair across from Harry's, "what were you blackmailing the twins about?"

"You don't want to know."

"Yes, I do."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"Do you want Hermione to slap you?"

"No."

"Then you don't. Trust me."

Ron shrugged. "All right. But she's not going to let you get away with that."

"And here she comes," Harry said with a wince as Hermione came running down the girls' staircase. "Hermione, honestly, I can't tell you right now – "

"Can't tell me what? Harry, did you forget? You have detention with Snape, right now!"

"What?" Harry felt his stomach drop. He had forgotten. "Thanks, Hermione. I'll see you when I get back."

"If you get back," Ron said, making a face. "We'll come looking for you if you're not back by morning."

"Thanks," Harry said with a brief smile. He checked his watch on the way out the portrait hole. Hermione had exaggerated, but not by much. He had time to get to Snape's office by seven, if – he groaned inwardly – he ran all the way.

This day seems to be all about running places.

He arrived in front of Snape's office door at 6:59 and 47 seconds, flushed, panting, but on time. He took a few seconds to try to compose himself, then knocked on the door.

"Enter," Snape's voice called.

Harry took one final deep breath and opened the door.

"Well?" Hermione asked as Harry climbed through the portrait hole at ten to midnight.

"Lines," Harry said wearily. "Five hundred lines." He rubbed his right hand, which ached.

"That's rough," Ron said sympathetically. "What'd they say?"

"I will never again invade Professor Snape's privacy," Harry recited.

"It could have been a lot worse, though, Harry," Hermione said practically. "Usually he has people scrubbing cauldrons for detention."

"He sat there watching me the entire time," Harry said flatly. "And criticizing me. 'You smeared that line, Potter. Do the sheet over. You blotted that I – do it again. Who taught you to write – a gorilla?' "

"Gorilla's handwriting is pretty neat, actually," Ron said thoughtfully.

"What?" Harry said.

"Gorilla. Erica. Big Guy calls her that. Why are you staring at me?"

"How do you know what Big Guy calls Erica?" Hermione asked in a tone that was almost a whisper.

Ron looked at her oddly. "It's in the books, Hermione. You better write this down, Harry – the day Hermione forgot what was in a book..."

"You're right," Hermione said quickly. "I did forget. Ha, silly me. Of course, Gorilla, for Gorelli." She laughed, but it sounded a trifle forced, Harry thought.

Then something occurred to him. "Ron, how do you know what Erica Gorelli's handwriting looks like? The books are all printed."

"Her signature's in there," Ron said, digging in his bag and pulling out a copy of Insane Dorm Hall. "Have a look."

Hermione took the book and flipped through it. "So it is," she said in a tone of relief. "See, Harry? Right there."

"Hermione, I didn't say it wasn't," Harry protested. "What's wrong with you?"

"There's nothing wrong with me," Hermione said in a slightly hectic tone. "Why would you think there was?" She looked quickly at her wrist. "Oh, look at the time. I should get to bed. Good night!"

Harry and Ron watched Hermione run up the girls' staircase as if there were an erumpent after her. Ron frowned. "How'd she know what time it was?"

"She looked at her watch," Harry said, feeling a little annoyed that both his best friends were obsessed with the obvious tonight.

Ron shook his head. "No, she didn't."

"How do you know?"

"Because she wasn't wearing one."

Harry sighed. "Whatever. She has the right idea, though. Let's go to bed. I'm exhausted, and my hand hurts."

This time, Harry's cell phone went off in the middle of choir practice. "That's odd, I don't see a cell phone solo in the music," Big Guy said, making everyone laugh.

"Sorry," Harry muttered, hurrying down from the risers and out into the hall. "Hello?"

"Mr. Potter, this is Security again. Sorry to bother you, but you've got another visitor here. A Ms. Umbridge."

Umbridge... Her, Harry remembered. A horrible little toad of a woman, who had tried to make him come with her until Fran had intervened. "I don't want to see her. Tell her to go away, please. And don't bother being polite."

The Security man laughed. "Will do."

"Thanks. Bye."

Harry returned to choir practice feeling far more cheerful.

(A/N: I made a mistake in stating Harry's schedule in earlier chapters. He has Transfiguration before Herbology on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I'll fix that sometime soon...

Nice work, everyone! Most of you got the answer right!

MackenzieW: Oh yeah...

MAndrews: Oh, they will be more intertwined every day...

pad's gurl584: Hmph. :smile:

rosie: Twelve pleases! Wow!

harryp123: Here.

Jessa L'Rynn: She'd be rampaging if she knew for sure that Fred got himself caught, but not knowing what happened to him kind of caught her off guard.

Tigoamy: You do? Wow. :blush:

blueJosh: Just wait, she'll be there!

marathonerobsessed: I never said that. :sticks out tongue:

Silver Warrior: The twins will get over it.

Ariatina McAlpin: Get it now?

Lady Cinnibar: I knew starting Specters was a mistake. ;-)

shimmereys: Completed? It is not!

I think I may have cracked my writer's block on this story... but no promises, sorry! Keep your eyes open, though, I'll really try to get another chapter up soon!)