Disclaimer: Check first chapter for full disclaimer and other warnings.

Chapter 15 – Room Service

Hogwarts had spent the last weeks of summertime in a quiet and smooth manner, and was entering autumn the same way. Contrarily to the two previous years, no outstanding rivalry was staining the ambiance, and no dark lord had entered the premises. Yet.

Still, many changes had happened in the first month of school, and some of them were feeding the rumour mill quite well, while others were quite insignificant or unnoticed. Such facts low in interest for the students were Neville's raising grades in Herbology or Ginny's in Transfiguration.

Susan Bones' open hostility towards the Weasleys, though, was spoken about in the whole school, since the day it started, that is, the first day of school. Gone were the friendly glances towards Harry and his friends. The niece of the still Head of Magical Law Enforcement had been ecstatic that summer, about the incoming elections, and was sure that her aunt was going to win. She had bragged about it to all her Hufflepuff friends, and, despite the Malfoy interlude, when Arthur Weasley got the position, she couldn't accept it. Unknown to her, Amelia Bones was perfectly content with the situation, as the new Minister had the difficult task to reorganize the Ministry's legal shambles before any dark lord tries to take over. No one had spotted Voldemort yet, and she was busy with managing the Aurors and the Department itself. The Weasleys were mostly ignoring her, but Ginny and the twins were having a more and more defined target for any upcoming prank. That is, when they found time to plan pranks again, as the three of them were occupying the Quidditch pitch often, with the other members of the team.

Oliver Wood had started recruiting early, needing to replace Harry at the Seeker position. However, as it was his last year, he also felt that the team would be better prepared for next year if they had proper replacement players, so he held full tryouts for all positions. Besides, having a reserve team was always better for training, as it provided truthful opposition. Furthermore, it was his final year with his NEWTs pending, as well as the official beaters' and chasers' OWLs. If the reserve team was good, they could replace each other when the exam schedule would be too tight. One morning, the full Gryffindor house has been outside, the older students only surveying the surroundings to prevent other houses' members spying on the tryouts. The first years were there as well, some of them disgruntled that they couldn't participate to the tryouts because of the general restriction on Quidditch for first years, which was still in effect. Even Hermione was there, even if only in the stands with a book in hand. Of the seventy three students, forty-one had been willing to try, and the tryouts had extended until the end of the day, but the team was now complete, and the reserve also.

Among the ten potential students for the official Seeker position, Ginny succeeded in grasping the Snitch eight times whereas Colin Creevey managed only five. The other ones barely caught it once or twice, and Ginny had been selected for the position. Her parents had been so proud that they bought her a new broom which they sent with a flurry of congratulations wishes. After all, with the salary of Minister, even reduced to proper amounts after Fudge's demise, they could at least buy some things for their children. The reserve team had been started with Colin as Seeker. A six year student named Joshua Stopper, with his appropriate name, got the Keeper position. He had been so good in fact, that, were Oliver not already official Keeper, he would have been. The beaters were, unsurprisingly, twins again: Andrea and Lucy McCullough, although very feminine fourth years, were large enough to send a bludger with almost the same speed and accuracy as the Weasley twins. And the chasers team consisted of Harvey Donaldson, a quick and nimble second year; Fredrick Hansen, a fourth year with a deadly accuracy; and, surprisingly, Ron Weasley. Even under everyone's doubtful glances, he had managed to play quite well. His strongest point, though, and it was soon clear to everyone, was his unpredictability. While that could be dangerous on the field, it could also bring them some points, as well as losing the opponents.

During the first weeks of school, Pansy Parkinson had tried, quite unsuccessfully, to take back the reins of Slytherin, left by Draco's departure. However, the cunning Blaise Zabini, annoyed of the constant prejudice Slytherin had been subjected to during the previous years, and with the help of the most influent older students, had already united more than half the house since even before September. The boy knew that they had to prove themselves to the others, and, despite the good-natured house rivalry, since the start of term, there had been almost no aggressive action coming from Slytherin anymore. Of course, there were some exceptions, and Pansy was one.

She and her bodyguards Crabbe and Goyle often patrolled the corridors, trying to scare the younger or solitary students. They hadn't got over their family's imprisonment, and were, consciously or not, trying to exact revenge on Hogwarts students. They had been left out of the accusations and interrogations by the Aurors on the base that, not being 'of age,' they couldn't be held legally responsible of their actions anyway. Almost nobody knew that they were already in service of the dark lord. And the few that knew it were in league with it. However, to prevent detection, they hadn't been marked yet, and were primarily acting as spies in the school. Their contact to the outside world was Jugson, one of the last few Death Eaters still in direct contact with Voldemort.

Another interesting fact was Ron's state of mind. Almost everybody had learnt about Luna "Loony" Lovegood at some point the previous year, but, as Ron had been one of the most hot-tempered students before the summer, his change had been spectacular for some. Reactions were varied. His Gryffindor year mates and his siblings, as well as Gryffindor Quidditch teams, were passively supportive. The other Gryffindors, including Hermione, generally ignored him. The other houses showed a mix of surprise at the dreamy tirades, and humour at the sometimes funny situations he went into. Some people were outright mocking him, although never in view or earshot of another Weasley, as consequences could be most unpleasant, in different ways depending on the overhearing Weasley. Percy would report them immediately, the twins would make the offender fall in the stairs quite often, and Ginny would yell on them to no end.

In the first days of October, though, the Gryffindor students found themselves irate at Ron's new weird action: he had drawn four parallel marks on every Gryffindor crest visible in the common room, hiding its eye, thus making the regal lion look like it was blind. Not the most inspiring act for the House. He also changed the colour of its paws and mane, to a fiery red. His only comment, before Percy and another seventh year brought him to McGonagall, was that "He is finding the path back, and she'll help him." He got some punishment for this, and life went back to normal, and even Ginny forgot about the incident.

Speaking of Ginny, there was something interesting that could be noted, although almost nobody knew about that. One morning, she woke suddenly, after a particularly nasty nightmare, which ended in her running in a sun-moulded desert of dunes, followed by a pack of hyenas. During the dream, she had felt she could escape, or even fight back, and that something that was buried deep in her was tugging at her. Upon waking, though, at the wee hour of three in the morning, she barely contained a scream of fright, as her hands were covered with hair. Or rather, fiery fur the same colour than her hair. She was so frightened that she couldn't think clearly, apart from going straight to the Transfiguration teacher. Hidden in the invisibility cloak, she went to Albus Dumbledore's office, and knocked at the door. When a sleepy old wizard opened, she realized that she was still under her invisibility cloak, and shrugged it aside. Startled at her appearance, the previous Headmaster stepped back, before smiling at her benignly.

"What can I do for you, Miss Weasley? I recall that it's a little late... or early, if you wish."

Instead of answering, she showed him her hands, still covered in fur. Even their shape wasn't exactly human anymore, and her trek to his office had been difficult at some points.

"Hmmm... interesting. Now, can you explain? I hope it's not a prank someone played on you, though."

She recounted her nightmare, her deep feeling of being able to defend herself against that particular danger, and her waking with this. She knew it couldn't be a prank, as she had protected her bed since the start of term. Having lived in the same house as her twins, she had been forced to learn to protect herself instinctively. While she was telling him the event, he conjured a set of tea and served her a glass. Seeing her agitated and deformed hands, he also charmed her cup to attach itself to her hand.

Her story got the old man thinking for a while, still looking at her through his half-moon spectacles, which he had recovered from a table top just as she entered. Seeming to have taken a decision, he stood and went in the following room, where she could hear him moving glass around. When he went back, he had a potion in his hand. He sat before speaking.

"Don't be afraid. What you are experiencing isn't generally observed until later in life, and only for certain... 'gifted' persons."

"What kind of gift, Professor?"

"Before I answer, I want you to think about your nightmare again, and ask yourself a question. How could you have escaped or defended against the hyenas? Without a wand; be creative." He added the last part with a smile, having seen her opening her mouth too quickly.

She became thoughtful, and, at first, didn't see how. She had had no weapon, and the terrain was barren, so she only had to count on herself. She couldn't have fought in the muggle way, and even if she could have, they were too numerous for her small frame to fight them. Small frame? That elicited a stir in her, but she didn't have another insight right then. She explored another track of thoughts, and reflected about whom, in her place, could have either escaped or fought against the desert crawlers.

The answer was immediate. Another, bigger, creature. The hyenas were easily scared of something bigger than them, especially if the creature could fight back. What creature could be, at the same time, bigger than them, able to fight them, and able to run faster than them?

A bear – too slow to escape.

A badger – too small.

A lion – too... perfect?

Her head shot up, looking at her Professor in confusion. Before she could say anything, he spoke.

"What animal was it, miss Weasley?"

Stunned, she asked "You... you knew!"

"I merely sent your thoughts in the proper directions. You did the work. So, what animal will soon pound our grassy grounds?"

"You don't mean... I will... an animagus?"

"I mean it, Ginevra. I may even help you with the process. You see, twenty years ago, four young boys came in this very school, and one of them was a werewolf. The others decided to help him during his crisis and became animagus. They did that by themselves, and never registered, and it took them a little time, less that most, but if they had only asked, I could have given them a bit of this." He held her the opened flask.

She sniffed it suspiciously, and he chuckled. "You're quite safe with me, Ginevra. But I admire your sense of survival, obviously gotten from your infamous twin brothers."

She blushed, before smiled slightly and answered, tentatively "I think it was... a lion?"

He frowned, looking at her red-furred hands inquiringly. "A lion?"

She looked at her hands too, before shrugging. "It was only a logical deduction based on incomplete information. I don't know that many animal species, and perhaps there are some that would be more appropriate."

"Well..." he nodded towards the vial she was still holding, "there is a quicker and surer way to know."

She looked at the potion, understanding in her eyes. Just before downing the potion, though, he interrupted her. "Make yourself comfortable first. You are going to sleep again, only to find your subconscious animal part."

She did, before drinking the liquid. The effect was instantaneous, and she collapsed on the armchair. Dumbledore took the empty vial from her hand. If what he thought was true, there would be a new mountain lioness gracing his school very soon. He just had to teach her to turn back into herself when she would wake up.

At the same time, in a dark mansion...

"Master?"

The young man, even with his black robe, didn't seem imposing as he was trembling with fear. This was a common occurrence of Voldemort followers nowadays, as they were very few, and he was very upset, thus always venting his anger on the same people. Of the remaining twenty Death Eaters, who had had the chance of not being known by the treacherous Malfoy, one had already been killed by Voldemort, in a fit of rage against his powerlessness. Still, Alfred Jugson had been summoned, and couldn't very well refuse, or his life really would have been forfeit.

"How is the search going, Jugson?"

He sighed imperceptibly. Voldemort seemed better today. And the news he was bringing him would appease him even more. "Very good, my Lord. We found the description of the spell in the archives of the wizarding museums we broke into last night. The creatures were evil spirits, and the spell allowed them to take possession of a dead wizard. This didn't prevent the decaying from their corpses, though."

"And their communication?"

"We are still searching the archives, Master. It's only a matter of time."

"Time is the essence, Jugson. Time is the essence." Voldemort appeared thoughtful for a few seconds, before continuing "And how are our new charges?"

"They are fine, Master. They are willing to meet you..."

"They won't. Not yet. I don't want the old fool to uncover them by reading my face from their mind. Keep them in check, and report to me." The Dark Lord, formerly known as Tom Marvolo Riddle, turned around in his chair, and fixed the flames intensely. After a time, sensing that his follower hadn't left, he said "Come back tomorrow, and have more to say."

Jugson, now being effectively dismissed, bowed deeply to his master, and walked backwards until out of the room. These times, the level of deference they showed towards their master was directly related to their life expectancy.

Later, in Hogwarts...

Hermione Granger was angry. Angry, and upset. Her logical mind had been working around the problem for days, but, surprisingly, she couldn't find an answer by herself. That alone was upsetting her.

How could she have been Sorted in Gryffindor?

During her first year, she had been brave as much as studious, all right. But there were more than four different types of minds, and she still didn't see how the damn hat could have put her in a house of bigoted, prejudiced, and especially stupid persons. Gryffindor only won the House cup through Quidditch, and she didn't even like being on a broom. All in all, she was feeling singled out, even if it was only a personal feeling. And she was fed up of it.

Now, a mere week into October, after having documented herself from some books, she could be seen going to her previous Head of House, now Headmistress, for a chat.

"I'm Hermione Granger. I have a question about the Sorting Hat." Any passing student would have thought her crazy, because she was actually speaking to the gargoyle guarding the Headmistress' office, but she had her reason. Earlier in the year, not knowing the password, she had inadvertently addressed the gargoyle directly, acting as if the stone statue had been a muggle assistant, like the one working in her parents' dentist office. And it had worked. She just had to state her name and reason for entering, and, if the Headmistress was there, the gargoyle would let her pass. Few knew that anyway, as the numerous Headmasters that had worked in that office seemed to have preferred giving everybody the password to their office. This mean of entering wasn't even written in Hogwarts: a History!

When in the office proper, her favourite teacher looked up the desk, which was still full of mounds of paper. Although curious as to who gave the fuming teenager her office's password, Minerva McGonagall preferred to ask what was wrong first. "What can I do for you, Miss Granger?"

"Well, madam, I was asking myself..." she took a deep breath, before rushing "I want to change houses. I want to be re-Sorted."

The Headmistress looked at her intently for a moment, before standing up. "To any other student, Miss Granger, I'd have said that this can't be done..."

"But in Hogwarts, a History, it is said that it has been done four times since the founding of the school..."

McGonagall raised her hand, trying to interrupt the girl's tirade. "As I said, to any other student, I'd have said that, but I know that you have explored every other issue before coming up here, including the infamous book you cited. Now, before any other action, would you care to enlighten me about your reasons for wanting this?"

Hermione had blushed during the woman's speech, but now quickly regained her natural complexion as she was preparing her answer. "I don't care about bravery, courage, and any other Gryffindor so-called 'virtues.' All I want to do is study more, to understand the world and the magic, in general and in every detail." A pause. "I think I'd do better in Ravenclaw." Another pause. "In fact, the Hat almost put me in Ravenclaw. It certainly felt I had enough bravery in me to stay in Gryffindor for seven years. I feel that I depleted my bravery in the two years that went by already. Even Quidditch doesn't interest me anymore. Well... it never did, but now, I'm quite repulsed by it. And the few friends I had... well... let's say Ron isn't mentally there anymore; my dorm mates are beauty-obsessed witches; and the others have already cast me out because of my grades."

"Well... I can't say that I'm happy about your decision, as, when I was Head of Gryffindor, I was delighted to have at least one clever witch in my house." Hermione blushed at the praise, while the Headmistress continued. "But, as it is your decision, and you seem to have read everything about it, we will proceed. You know how to do it?"

"Yes. I read that I had to find a member for each house to vouch for my resorting. I have some insight about who to ask, but I wanted to make my intention clear with you from the beginning."

"Very well. As soon as you have your four witnesses, come back here and we'll arrange the resorting. However, make sure that they are not doing it as a service, because they are going to be tested by the Hat also on your decision. They have to agree wholeheartedly."

"Of course. Thank you, and good afternoon, Headmistress. I will come back soon."

Hermione then left the room, reflecting about herself. She was tired of being in Gryffindor, but would the Hat choose another house for her? What if she was to be sorted in Hufflepuff? Or even worse, Slytherin? They sure calmed themselves, but, still... even with the calmed environment, switching from Gryffindor to Slytherin would be considered a major treason by those uptight idiots. What was wrong in being in Slytherin anyway? This year, they proved that they weren't necessarily evil at heart, only ambitious and cunning. She was ambitious and cunning herself, so was it making her a Slytherin? When she had been sorted, a little more than two years before, she had politely asked the Hat to put her in the House where the great Albus Dumbledore had been, but she hadn't known the general behaviour of the houses. Now that she knew for a fact that Ravenclaws were studious, she wanted to go there, but the mere act of asking for a resorting was so Slytherin, that she wasn't really sure anymore.

'At least, in Slytherin, I'd have Professor Snape as Head of House...' The thought came uninvited, making her pause. The Potion Master had proven interesting to discuss with. They had talked about his potion research, and her studies, and she felt that she could talk with him more freely now than with most of her own housemates. And, despite keeping his cold facade for everyone, she was rewarded by smiles sometimes, and felt incredibly proud of it. He wasn't as cold and spiteful than he was the year before, and generally taught well in practical Defence, but he was still wary of opening up, especially to those kids.

Pondering upon this, she remembered that, at one time the day before, she had been insulted by Pansy Parkinson, who had taken upon herself to follow Draco's steps. He had overheard it, and had arrived just as Crabbe and Goyle had pushed her on the floor. He immediately took points from them and assigned detention with the caretaker. The four students were surprised, because he had never taken points from his own house before. The rest of the day, the three Slytherins had avoided being near her at all times.

She shook her head, and went to the Library. She had a free period, and almost always passed them in the Library now, except when discussing with Snape in his office. Once there, she took some books from her magically enhanced schoolbag, and arranged them on the table in front of her. The schoolbag had been bought in Diagon Alley during one of her summer's book shopping sprees. It could contain a large number of books, always giving the one the user wanted. It was always lightweight, despite being sturdy enough to withhold rough handling. She opened the books, and continued her current research topic about being able to mentally discuss with creatures. She hoped that it would enable her, or anyone, to discuss as 'normally' as possible with a Dementor. So far, she hadn't had success, but she had several ideas. The first would be a modified Legilimency spell, but, to be able to research that, she needed a few courses in Mind Control, as well as Spell Design. Even if she had read a few interesting books on the subjects, she wasn't advanced enough in them to do that. Besides, Spell Design was a NEWT course, reserved for 6th and 7th years, and the teachers couldn't help her there, she thought. Her second insight was to modify an existing potion, which allowed the imbiber to speak any language with sentient creatures of a given race. To work properly, though, the potion must contain the powdered tongue of a member of said race, and she wasn't sure that Dementors had a tongue anyways, even if they could Kiss someone to death. The thought made her smile, before she concentrated on her self-assigned work.

After an hour of re-designing the potion two or three times, she decided that the person most able to help her at that would be the Potion Master, and she collected her books before heading to his office.

That evening...

He found himself on a bed, panting. His heart beating fearfully, he rose and started to explore his surroundings. It was quick, because the place was small. Small, and without any door or window. He started to panic, and scanned the set of rooms rapidly.

He had arrived in a sort of bedroom. The bed was small, but very comfortable. There was a desk with two drawers, and a sturdy chair. The floor was wooden, and covered with small brown rugs. The stone walls were beige, almost bare, as there was a shield hanging on the wall opposite the bed, with two swords crossed behind it. There was also an empty bookcase, and an equally empty cupboard. Everything was neat, as if the place had just been dusted and cleaned the hour before. Looking around at the bed, he saw that even the crumpled linens of where he had sat were now smoothed. This little fact, added to everything that had happened to him the day before, made him think for a while, before shrugging and returning to the room's exploration.

There were two archways leading to adjoining rooms. The first, initially closed with a brown curtain, led to a bathroom, if the toilet seat, the porcelain sink, and the shower stall were of any indication. Aside the sink, on a low cupboard, was an intricately decorated plate and a glass, with some silverware on the side. The cupboard also hosted some towels and soap. The whole room was covered in white ceramic tiles.

He returned to the previous room, before suddenly noticing something. He returned in the bathroom and remarked that even the smell was fresh. The bathroom smelled of woodland and mint! Looking at the plate, and feeling a little hungry, he uttered aloud "If there were some bread and cheese, that would be a self-sufficient place."

He had just finished his sentence when he jumped a foot in the air in fright at the unexpected popping sound. There, on the plate, two slices of food had appeared. Bread and cheese! Trying to calm his beating heart, he approached slowly, and mouthed "I'd like some cake."

A cake appeared.

And when he asked for some water, the glass nearby filled itself with water.

He looked around him frantically, trying to notice if there was any indication of him being watched. Nothing. There was only one mirror in the whole setting, and it was a mobile and light full-length mirror. All the reality shows that he had seen on his friends' television were in places where mirrors were everywhere on the walls, camcorders behind them. He thought of the other explanation, and his jaw fell on the floor. He was aghast at the implication of all this. In all effect, though, he was prisoner, in a cell where he could live, and eat. He didn't want to be retained, though. He had a life to live!

He returned to the first room, and explored the second archway. It led to an almost-empty room. There only was a wooden bench there, covered in cushions, and a metal staff. Taking the staff to inspect it, he immediately noticed that it was quite heavy, and that there were a few words written on its end.

"To my son Jamie – Say weight"

He didn't know that Jamie, but was more interested by the second part. Say weight, say weight... he didn't understand the weight of what he had to say, or even if he had to say the word 'weight'. The thought made him smile, as he remembered a passage from a famous muggle book, where a wizard had to utter the word 'friend' in an old language. Shaking his head, and thinking it was his own weight, he told it aloud, before dropping the suddenly heavy staff. Understanding dawned on his face, and he grasped the staff again, uttered "one pound", and raised it easily. In the rooms, he wasn't disturbed about the strangeness of items anymore, and he understood that the staff could be used to press weights. That would improve his muscles, he thought, and, curious about his actual strength, he increased the weight until he couldn't lift it. He then noticed that, despite his small frame, he was able to lift the metal bar with as much as a hundred pounds on it. He shrugged the feeling of strangeness aside, and, not having noticed anything else, he put the staff on the bench again, and left the room.

He returned to the bedroom again, and, due to the change of perspective, he remarked that the bookshelf wasn't exactly empty, as a wooden box resided on top of it. Grasping the chair from the desk and climbing on it, he took the box and deposited it on the desk. Before opening it, he noticed that the box was decorated with two letters: G. S. His initials. Idly asking himself if that was his own Pandora box, from which hideous memories would emerge, he put a tentative hand on the lid lock.

Only to jerk it away with a yelp, as a spark could be seen. He had been electrocuted! Oddly, it hadn't been harmful at all, but still, it had surprised him. Not understanding the whole thing at all, he took the box again, and put it where it was before, on top of the bookcase. Turning around to grasp the bedroom-and-study once more, he noticed two things. Firstly, there were drawers on the desk, and he hadn't tried to open them yet. And secondly, there was a book near the bed. He knew the book, as he was holding it when he had arrived, so he went straight to the drawers, with the intent of opening them. He stopped in midcourse, afraid of getting the same treatment than the box delivered to him. He removed his pyjama vest, and gathered it around his hand. Nothing happened when he touched the drawers' handles, and he opened them.

The first was empty. He sighed, thinking that the second would be as empty as the first, and as empty as the whole setting appeared to be. He was surprised, then, to find a book in it. Grasping it, he noticed that it was a purple-covered diary, and that its author seemed to be a person named Ginevra Shaun.

His head swam. He had to sit down.

Ginevra Shaun.

G. Shaun. – the author of the book.

G. S. – the initials on his ring.

How sure was he that the ring was his, anyway? He wasn't even sure that his real name was Gabriel... Well, it wouldn't be Ginevra, because it was a girl's name, but still, the name called to him, to the hidden part of his mind. Despite his exhausted state, he thought some more, and also remarked that the diary's owner had also written the book that led him here. He felt too tired to read the booklet, though, and decided to sleep until the morning, and then he would try to escape.

The following day, he began with a quick shower and a wondering breakfast. The shower's water temperature was perfect, and the magicked plate gave him everything he asked for. When stowing the plate in the sink, he also noticed that his damp towel had disappeared, only to reappear, clean, in the cupboard. The shower also was as neat as it was before he has taken it. The place seemed to clean automatically, he reflected.

He began to read the diary, but interrupted himself quickly. Now that he was used to the rooms, he remarked that there was a very soft vibration coming from the floor and walls. The second reason for his interruption was that the diary itself was coded, and there was no indication of a key anywhere. Unless...

Unless it was the same as the book. He wished he had some paper to draw the necessary grids, and, reflecting about the plate, decided to ask it aloud.

"I'd like some paper and a pen, please." No need to be impolite if somebody was watching him somehow. Hearing a sound in the first drawer, he opened it to see that it now contained some paper and pen, as requested. However, the paper and pen weren't exactly what he was used to. The sheets of paper were rolled in scrolls, and the paper texture was much heavier than his usual school material. The pen... wasn't a pen, as it was a quill, next to an inkwell. Not understanding the meaning of all this, or why the room gave him a quill when he asked for a pen, he started to decode the diary anyway. He figured that if there was a way out of here, it was perhaps written in it. He started working on it, and quickly found that he was quite proficient in writing with a quill. 'Where did I learn that?' he reflected absentmindedly, while drawing his grids.

He didn't stop working for the whole day and into the night, except for the customary stops at the loo or for eating something from the plate when his watch indicated lunch and dinner time. The plate cleaned itself also, he found out. During the course of the 'day', he absently noticed that, despite not having doors or windows, or even light appliances, the room was lighted as if it had windows. Even when his watch indicated that it was night time, the room had some light, but it was then more like an artificial one.

However, he was so tired from his constant work that he fell asleep on it, and napped for a few hours. When he woke, the light, that had lowered while he slept, came back. Glancing at his watch, he remarked that it was six in the morning, and he panicked, before remembering his work.

When he had stopped working because of falling asleep on the book and papers, he had translated only a small part of the diary, and didn't understand the meaning of it.

Granted, the language was proper English, except for old turns of phrase. But there were many words he didn't recognise. Obviously, the diary had been written with its owner as sole intended reader, and it didn't explain everything. Still, Gabriel could make out some explanations about 'his' ring. It appeared that this madam Shaun had lived some years ago, and she had constructed this isolated, self-cleaning, and self-refilling place to seek refuge from either danger or overbearing people. The place had other properties, but he didn't understand them at all. She described herself as a teacher, at a local boarding school, and a Technomancy researcher, but the word was one of the many Gabriel didn't understand, and he naïvely resolved to take a look at a dictionary when he would be back. The ring was to transport its wearer when he spoke the activation word, but there were more than one destination. He had fallen asleep just after translating that part, and had written down the words and their supposed significance. When he read them again, he was overjoyed, because he thought that he could finally escape the place. He liked the rooms, and would use it gladly in the future, but for now, he needed to go back. He had already missed a whole day of school!

He took the list of activation words in his hand, and, before using it, remembered that, should the ring bring him to a dangerous place, he could always use the 'safehaven' word to come back. He fidgeted with his ring to make sure that it was properly attached, and spoke the first activation sequence from the list.

"Hogliewarts"

Meanwhile...

Ginny had been sleeping soundly, dreaming of her as a mountain lioness, hunting preys and fooling around, when a hand shaking her shoulder woke her. Opening her eyes slowly, she saw Ron's face lit by the moon from the window. She also noticed the fur on her hands, again. Ron saw it, too, but said nothing. She closed her eyes again and meditated, as her Transfiguration Professor had taught her, to change back to her natural skin. When she opened her eyes again, Ron tugged urgently at her sleeve.

"Come down, Ginny, and take your cloak, he'll be there soon."

"Who?"

But Ron had left the dorm already. Sighing, she took the invisibility cloak and followed him. She absentmindedly asked herself how he had been able to get up the stairs, as they were charmed to prevent the boys from accessing the girls' dorms.

He was already at the portrait hole, waiting for her. They put the cloak around themselves, and went out. Ron seemed to know exactly where he was going, even if that part of the castle was seldom used, and Ginny could only follow, as the lean redhead pressed on. He stopped at a door, where the form of Luna Lovegood was waiting, airily looking straight towards them. They removed the cloak, but Luna didn't seem to be surprised. 'For her to be surprised, the circumstances would have to be exceptional,' Ginny thought.

"Hi Ron, Ginny."

"Hello, Luna."

"You felt it too?" Luna asked to Ron. Ginny didn't say anything, though, wondering why those two needed her.

"Yes."

"The door is closed, though. Even to Alohomora."

"Hmm... let's do something else. After all, we are here only to watch. Transglassius!"

He had moved his wand in a complicated motion ending in a square, and the door appeared to shimmer for a while, as if deciding to allow the spell or not. Ginny was dumbfounded that her brother knew such a spell, but quieted when they saw what was behind the now transparent door. The spell had made the transparency only one-way, though, but she didn't know that, otherwise she would have asked herself what other uses her brother, or his mischievous siblings, could make of this spell.

It was an office, visibly a teacher's. But there was so much dust around that it seemed it had been abandoned decades ago. There were still books around, an open trunk and some robes, and papers were littering the desk and the floor.

"What are we do..." she started, before the others quieted her suddenly. Looking at her pointedly, Ron aimed his wand at the door, and spoke again.

"Silencio."

"Okay. Thanks, Ron. Now I can talk, can't I? What are we doing here and..."

"Shhh... He's coming."

"But... who?"

They didn't answer and looked at the door expectantly. Knowing them, she had no other choice than to follow suit. She looked also. For five minutes. And then, in front of her eyes, someone appeared. Someone that she had problems to identify, but who tugged at her memory, even in his pyjama. And when that someone turned around in the room, she noticed the spiked black hair and the scar through the face, and that brought back some of the memories that had been unconsciously locked away. Memories of the funfair. Memories of Harry. She collapsed in the arms of Luna, who seemed to have positioned herself exactly to do that.

"Good job, Lun. Perhaps she'll remember, now."

"Thanks, Ron. Mobilicorpus!" at that, the prone body of Ginny rose in the air.

"Good. Let's take her to the healer; she'll need her strength for today's match."

They went back through the school, eerily avoiding the patrolling caretaker and his cat, and dropped Ginny at the Hospital wing. Then they kissed lightly, and, still without a sound, went back to their dorms.

In the Headmistress office...

The little device could emit a loud signal, as the Headmistress discovered while waking up suddenly. Warily stepping towards the rapidly rotating silver device on a nearby shelf, she recognized it, and was suddenly more awake than before.

Someone, who wasn't recognized as a staff member, or a house-elf, had just portkeyed inside Hogwarts!

As the procedure of managing with an intruder wasn't clear in her mind, and the shrilling item behind her was still mewling, she preferred to double check with the old man who had given her her current position. She took a pinch of Floo powder and called for Albus Dumbledore. Had she known immediately what was to do, the rest of the story could have been different.

In the old and dusty office again...

Gabriel couldn't refrain from coughing at first. Comparing to the place he left, the office was indeed full of dust, and smelled... like an enclosed place. He turned around, taking in the office. He felt he was being watched for a moment, before the feeling went away. Thanks to the moonlight, he read some of the papers on the desk, and guessed that they could be students' assignments, even if the subject was totally unknown to him. He also remarked that the open trunk near the wall had the G.S. initials on it, again.

After dusting the chair a little, eliciting more coughs, he sat on it and thought about the place for a while. If this was the office of Madam Shaun, and if she appeared to be dead, how comes nobody ever came to reclaim it, or even to clean it? Looking at the books on the shelves, and thinking of the empty bookcase in the isolated rooms, he made the decision of storing the books there. By reading them, he thought that he would be able to better understand his ring and the rooms themselves, as well as his own situation. Besides, if somebody had needed them at one point, they wouldn't have been there anymore.

He then proceeded to store the books in the trunk, gathered the papers in a neat pile on the desk, and, held the trunk handles. He wasn't as nervous as the previous time when he spoke again.

"Safehaven."

Once in the room, he dropped the trunk, and glanced at his list of activation words again. The second one on the list was "Preceding strut", but a note seemed to have been attached to it. Reading it, Gabriel's heart suddenly beat with joy. Apparently, the ring kept a memory of the places he went, like a stack of cards, and these particular activation words took the ring bearer to the place he was before. He guessed his destination correctly, and when he uttered the words, found himself in the dusty office again. There, he tried to open the door, but failed. Speaking the words again, he found himself back in the hideaway. There, he took his book, and, another wording later, he found himself in his bed, in Grace's guest bedroom.

All this coming and going had taken some time, and it was now time to prepare for breakfast, and Grace's unavoidable questions about where he went. He removed and dusted his pyjama, took a shower, and dressed before going in the kitchen.

Strangely, Grace didn't seem fazed that he had been away for a whole day, and kept asking him questions about the previous week-end. He answered most of them truthfully, but was dumbfounded about her lack of attention about his leave. The breakfast finished, and the plates stored away, he removed the Monday page from the tear-out calendar on the wall, and then went upstairs to prepare for school. When he went down, shouting a quick good-bye to Grace, he suddenly stood in front of the calendar, shocked. Grace had put the crumpled Monday page back. He hadn't time to reflect on that, though, as Joan was calling for him from outside.

To be continued in next chapter: The Pitch...

If you knew it, raise one hand,
Review with your other hand.
If you didn't, I beg you,
Drop me a nice review too.