The Seers' Truth:  Beyond the Darkness

By Lady Lestrange

Chapter 2

Help Wanted and Rejected

Disclaimer:  I do not own Harry Potter nor the characters nor the world created by JK Rowlings.  No infringement is meant or implied.  Thanks JK.

THANKS: To my faithful and hardworking beta, ennui de Morte.

+++

Harry heard Madam Pomfrey scolding someone as he approached the infirmary.  That really wasn't all that unusual and actually made Harry feel rather comforted.  He glanced at Ron and the fleeting feeling that perhaps there was hope for a better future disappeared.   Ron looked awful.  Of course, no one could blame him, with both of the twins in the infirmary and his little sister taken by Voldemort. 

Ginny.  Harry felt his gut twist with anxiety.  Why couldn't he have been a little faster grabbing the portkey?  Why did she do it in the first place?  Why didn't he figure the whole thing out sooner?   Why?  Why?  Why?  It seemed to be a question that he had been asking since he entered the wizarding world.  He hesitated at the door of the infirmary; uncertain of what they would find when they stepped inside to visit the twins. 

"Are you ready for this Ron?" asked Harry.

In the silence as Ron nodded, voices drifted into the corridor. First Madam Pomfrey's, "I don't know what you were thinking of, Albus.  Pulling the essence of a man through that ward could have killed him. Souls are not meant to leave their bodies—"

"It was for his own safety."

"Oh—Poppycock!"

Dumbledore laughed, a strangely uninhibited laugh.  "You know me too well, Poppy."

"That I do," Madam Pomfrey said in an odd voice.  "Did you recover Pandora's box, then?"

"No, drat that little—"

Dumbledore broke off as Harry and Ron entered the infirmary; he and Madam Pomfrey jumping apart. The medi-witch immediately pulled the privacy curtains around the patient they were talking about, but not before Harry saw the wizened body of the Death Eater Nott.  Then Madam Pomfrey raised her wand and set a ward around him. 

"I assume you are here to see Miss Granger and your brothers," she nodded to Ron.  

"Yes," said Harry and Ron together.  

"Well, Miss Granger can go back to the dormitory," said Madam Pomfrey.  "There's no lasting damage from the binding spell, only sore wrists." She turned slightly and, looking down at Hermione, started reprimanding her. "Merlin knows how you managed to Accio your wand—dislocating your wrist like that to get your hands apart enough—"

Hermione launched herself off of her bed and tearfully hugged Ron.  He held her for a moment and then looking over Hermione's head, asked Madam Pomfrey, "My brothers?"

"Your brothers are suffering from prolonged exposure to dementors," said Madam Pomfrey, "but they, too, will recover. However, I need to keep them here for a few days of intense chocolate."

"Can I speak to them?" asked Ron. "Tell them what happened?"


"I wouldn't advise it," said Madam Pomfrey.  "They are going to be a bit jumpy for a while.  Best to just let it rest.  I'm keeping them in a magical sleep for twenty-four hours.  Why don't you come back and visit them tomorrow?  Your parents are coming then."

Ron nodded listlessly and started out of the infirmary, arm in arm with Hermione. Harry remained motionless, staring at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore looked over his half moon glasses at Harry Potter.  "You handled yourself well, Harry," he said.  "You should be proud of yourself."

"Proud?" spat Harry.  "Three witches are gone with Voldemort and two wizards are lying in a hospital bed."  He gestured wildly to Fred and George.  "My two best friends are tearing themselves up—"

"No, Harry.  I don't think they are," said Dumbledore.  "I think you are."

Harry shook his head vehemently and continued as if Dumbledore hadn't spoken. "We have to get them back," said Harry.

"We will," promised Dumbledore distractedly, his mind seemingly elsewhere as he suddenly looked around the infirmary.  "Where's Draco Malfoy?" he asked Madam Pomfrey.

"His father came and took him home over an hour ago," said Madam Pomfrey.  "He had a letter of release from you—although it had no date—"

Dumbledore whirled around toward the doors of the ward, muttering, "He must have saved that letter for two years! Damn Lucius!"  Without saying another word, he stalked from the infirmary, leaving Harry Potter forgotten, his questions unanswered.

++

Ginny moved silently through the long marble corridor and smoothed her new robes.  Running her hands over the material gave her a feeling of contentment.  She wondered if they were spelled to do that.  Obviously, they were spelled to fit her perfectly.  She reminded herself that nothing was as it seemed, and crept forward to the alcove just outside of Samara's chamber.   No one had given her word of Samara's condition and she didn't want to call attention to her friendship with Samara by asking.  Instead, she decided to take matters into her own hands and visit Samara herself.

As always, Tom was warning her to exercise caution.  "You're such a coward," she teased him.

"Better a live coward than a dead hero," said Tom.

"Where does that leave you?" Ginny wondered.

Tom retreated to some obscure memory, but returned a moment later.  "You do realize the robes are spelled with a cheering charm, don't you?" Tom warned.  "Don't get too content."

Ginny smiled.  "Who would have thought Salazar could do such a good cheering charm?"

Tom sighed in exasperation, "There's no talking to you right now.  I'll be back when you take the robe off—"

Ginny felt her face heat with a blush, but she pushed that thought aside.

She had tried to leave both Beatrice and the baby basilisk in her room.  Beatrice stubbornly refused to stay put in a room with a basilisk, even a baby one, so Ginny wore her little serpent like a necklace.  Occasionally the serpent tasted her neck with the tickling edge of its tongue.  Ginny hoped Beatrice stayed safely hidden in her room. 

She had tried to give Beatrice her portkey to Slytherin common room, but it didn't work. When she spoke to Pritch about it, he pulled her aside and whispered furiously.  "Are you out of your mind!  Of course it doesn't work to leave him.  The portkeys I make are to bring his Death Eaters to him or to a certain meeting point—"

"But you could adjust it," said Ginny.

"No!" hissed Pritch.  "I couldn't."  His voice dropped to a whisper.  "The last person who messed with his portkeys—"  Pritch swallowed and looked fearfully into the corridor.

"What about the last person?" asked Ginny.

"He was portkeyed to—the beach—six feet under the sand—and shells—and rocks—"

"Oh," said Ginny softly.

"Lord Voldemort told his brother if he wanted the body, he could go dig it up. If he hurried, his brother might even still be alive."  Pritch took a breath and said in a low voice, "He wasn't.  He dug—with his bare hands.  To this day, he doesn't have any fingernails."

Ginny glanced at Pritch's hands.

"Not me," said Pritch.  And then he added, more quietly, "My grandfather."

Ginny said nothing.  What could she say?  But a part of her wondered why his grandfather didn't just go to some medi-wizards to get the skin and nails re-grown.

"Honesty, Ginny.  The stone basilisks can't be any denser than you.  Don't you think the man would have had his hands reformed if Salazar allowed him to?"

"Yes, but Pritch just said he didn't."

"And why is that, Ginny Love?"

"Voldemort didn't want him to?"

"Smashing, Ginny Love.  You got one right."  Ginny tried to ignore the sarcasm in Tom's voice.

"I wonder if his body is still buried," Ginny thought with a shiver.

"Nah—" said Tom flippantly.  "I'm sure Salazar found some other use for him—"

"Oh, Tom, you're not serious—" thought Ginny, a myriad of dark possibilities running through her mind, each more terrible than the last.

Tom didn't answer, but he really didn't need to.  She could see his memories—and she wished she couldn't.

At last, her vigil at Samara's door was rewarded.  She saw Voldemort leave Samara's room, Scabbers on his shoulder.  No, not Scabbers, she caught herself.  Shivering, she thought of how the rat had occasionally sat with her first year.  She didn't have a pet then, and Ron had let her share Scabbers as long as she cleaned the cage.  Seeing him as a wizard always made her a bit uneasy, especially when he assumed a friendship that wasn't there.  His beady eyes glanced her way, nose twitching.  Luckily neither Scabbers—um, Wormtail—nor Voldemort saw her.   She waited nearly ten more minutes before inching forward to the room and trying the door.  It was locked.

"Did you think it would open wide and chime welcome, Ginny Love?"  Tom thought for another moment and suggested a spell to open the door.  It didn't work.

"No," thought Ginny, "I didn't think it would chime welcome, but this is his stronghold.  I would have thought he would be less worried about anyone harming her."

Tom suggested another spell.  "Less than what?" he asked.

"I don't know," said Ginny, trying yet another opening spell.  "Everyone here is loyal to him—"

"Loyalty is a Hufflepuff concept," said Tom, and the door opened with the spell from his third suggestion.

A sweet flowery scent was in the air.  Samara was lying still and quiet in the bed, and Draco was sitting beside her with a bubble head charm over his head.  His hair was hanging disheveled over his face and dark circles hung below his closed eyes.  He was half-dozing in the chair, one leg was pulled up underneath him in an attempt to get comfortable and his robe was wrinkled irreparably beneath him.  Neither he nor Samara stirred.

Ginny hesitated.  She and Draco were never friends, but she didn't think Draco would object to her seeing how Samara was doing.  "Draco," Ginny whispered, touching his arm.

Draco startled awake, which, in itself, should have told her there was something drastically wrong, but she was still thinking of Samara.  "How is she?" Ginny asked.

"Same," replied Draco, licking his dry cracked lips.  "Well, not the same, but still unconscious.  She's apparently releasing the foreign magic.  It doesn't look like it matters.  She's still unresponsive."

"Did you try—" Ginny glanced away from his haunted eyes. "What did you do?" asked Ginny.

Draco looked at her, and performed the bubble head charm over her head.  "I think He tried to kill me," Draco whispered, glancing furtively towards the door.

"If he had," Ginny said softly, "I doubt that he would have failed."

"No.  You're right, of course." Draco shivered, and straightened his robes.

"What happened?" Ginny asked, wondering what had put the suave, never flustered, Malfoy into such a state, but Draco didn't answer that question.  Instead, he answered what happened to Samara.

He sighed, and then whispered, "Snape made a potion that removes the effects of foreign magic." Draco paused for so long that Ginny thought he wasn't going to continue speaking at all.  Finally he said, "It removes magic— He—"  Draco seemed to choke on the words.  "He told me to sit here, with her, and the whole time the potion was leaching away my magic.  I started to feel tingling—you know, like when you are losing in Quit."

"I know the feeling," said Ginny quickly.

"And I finally realized the Samara was breathing the potion not swallowing it.  I barely had the energy to do a bubble head charm."

"He can't want you dead," said Ginny.

"He didn't tell me the potion was inhaled!  If I hadn't done the exact same thing to the Gryffs with the owls, I would have never thought of it—inhaled—Do you think he would simply—forget?"  Draco turned his gray eyes on her in an intense stare, and Ginny sensed, for the first time, that Draco was not the confident Slytherin she had grown to know and hate.  He was instead a frightened child just like she was. It was a startlingly realization.

"No," said Ginny, "He wouldn't forget, but Samara told him how important to her you are."

Draco looked away from Ginny, his eyes drawn back to the unconscious Samara.  "Samara isn't awake to tell him—anything now—and even if she were awake, he could say that my death was a tragic accident."

"Maybe he just wanted to weaken you," suggested Ginny.

Draco nodded and then stood to touch Samara as she started to fuss.  She gave a low moan and rustled the bed sheets.

"Get out," Draco said, every trace of uncertainty gone as he pulled his wand and removed the bubble head charm from his own head.

"I think we should listen to him, Ginny Love."

"What?  What is it?  Can I help?" asked Ginny.

"No. Get out of here before you get us both in trouble, Weasley. Go!" he hissed, his gray eyes as cold as ice.  "Elf," he called and Winky appeared next to him.  She couldn't help but see Ginny standing there with the bubble head charm still in place. "Get your Master," said Draco. He glanced again at Ginny. "Staying for the show, are you Weasel?" he sneered.

"Ginny Love.  Let's get out of here.  Getting caught here does not help her.

Ginny sprinted for the door, the basilisk around her neck hissing in indignant irritation at the jostling movement.

++

Four days had passed and as far as Harry could see, Dumbledore had done nothing.  There were no unscheduled apparitions of aurors onto the school grounds.  There were no new wards or guards and all of the teachers were notably nervous that the wards around Hogwarts were only set temporarily.  Life continued as usual, except that Ron existed in a waking nightmare that was so strong, his friends could feel it. 

It was intolerable that four days had gone by, and Dumbledore had done nothing.  On the morning of the fifth day, Harry was fed up with waiting and went to talk to Dumbledore.  He stood at the bottom of the steps in front of the gargoyle.   

"Gummy skrewts," he said and the statue moved aside, allowing Harry to ascend the stairs to the Headmaster's office.

"Come in, come in," said Dumbledore.  "I've been expecting you."

"Expecting me?"

"Why, yes.  I'm sure you are wondering why we allowed Voldemort to take Samara Donnally and Virginia Weasley."

"It crossed my mind," said Harry.

"Well the answer to that is rather simple," said Dumbledore.  "They are obviously 'Dark.'"

"They're not," argued Harry.  "Don't you think we should do anything?  Just sit here and wait for them to die. You need to help them."

"I need do nothing at all," said Dumbledore popping a lemon drop into his mouth. 

Harry choked. Nothing? "But you promised—" Harry started to say and then stopped, thinking of all the times the Headmaster had promised Harry that he was safe at Hogwarts. Safe, ha! Safe with Quirrel and Lockhart teaching them defense.  The Headmaster's promises seemed to be as reliable as a Slytherin's word—only when it was convenient and benefited him.

"Nothing?  Is that what you think we should do?" snapped Harry. "Have you lost your mind?"

"Many times thing resolve themselves as they are meant to be—" said Professor Dumbledore, calmly steepling his fingers in front of his face.

Guess that was a rhetorical question, Harry thought. He has lost his mind.

"Meant to be!" Harry stated incredulously.  He paused slightly and then let loose all the pent up anger and frustration of the last four days. "So you seriously think Ginny having a Dark Mark was meant to be?" shouted Harry.

"She did choose it.  Professor Snape said she demanded at wandpoint to go to Voldemort."

"And he let her!"

"I don't see that he would interfere with her choice."  Dumbledore shook his head slowly and thoughtfully.  "A wizard's choice in such a grave matter should not be tampered with—"

"It wasn't her choice," snapped. Harry.  "It was that damned diary.  How can you be so blind?"

Dumbledore rubbed his chin.  "Alas, you may be right," he said regretfully. He then continued in a much sterner voice, "But I do not think it makes much difference. She has still gone to Voldemort. She's beyond our reach right now, as is Samara."

"She's not beyond my reach," muttered Harry.  "I'm at least going to try."

"Harry, no. I do not want to have to restrain you."

Ha! As if you could keep me here, thought Harry. He remembered how many rules he had broken when he wanted to accomplish something.  He was quite confident that, if he wanted to get off Hogwarts grounds, he would be able to. 

"Snape went to Voldemort too," Harry said. "You didn't abandon him."

"Professor Snape," Dumbledore corrected automatically.

"So you are just leaving them for dead," snapped Harry. "They might as well be dead already. What is the difference between Professor Snape and the girls that makes you care so little for their lives and so value his life?" 

"It's not that I don't care," said Dumbledore softly.  "It just not my decision.  It's theirs.  Choices," Dumbledore repeated. "People become the wizards they will be through their choices. They both chose, Harry.  It is not a choice you or I would have made, but it is their choice.  I heard Samara Donnally tell you she was going with Voldemort."

"To stop me," said Harry.  "She wanted to stop me and Hermione from getting hurt."

"Harry, you forget.  I was there.  I heard what she said."

"You didn't hear the parseltongue!" shouted Harry.  "You didn't hear her insult Voldemort first."

"Harry, we've all lost friends to Voldemort one way or another.  Sometimes through death and sometimes through the friend's seeking the power of the Dark.  It's very insidious, the power of the Dark.  It's easy to believe that everything you want or need is contained there." 

His patient blue eyes and patronizing smile galled Harry.  It took everything Harry had to even listen to Dumbledore's sanctimonious words. 

 "The Dark is always filled with illusion and empty promises," said Dumbledore, "and when one of our own chooses that path, it hurts, but—"  Dumbledore took a deep breath and continued, his blue eyes unfocused and bright with tears.  "All we can do is accept their choice.  It is their choice after all—"

"I don't think either of them chose to be dark witches. I thought maybe Samara was, when I felt her wand, but I changed my mind, and I know Ginny and Beatrice aren't dark."

"Let's not forget Virginia Weasley has a Dark Mark."   Dumbledore sighed.  "I know Arthur does his best for his children, but it's different, I think, for a girl.  Perhaps the boys could handle the hand-me-down clothes and shortage of money in their lives. It was different for Virginia."

"Different for a girl?" Harry blinked and looked again—yes, he was serious. Dumbledore had always been—different—but had he finally stepped over the edge?  Was he truly insane? Harry wondered.   "It didn't matter to Ginny either," Harry said aloud.  "She loves her family."

"Oh, I know she does, Harry, but she was not as contented as her family believed.  I spoke to Virginia after her episode with the diary.  She had poured out her lament about how unsatisfactory her life was.  She poured that lament out not only to me, but to Tom Riddle.  She measured herself against the girls in her year and found herself lacking.  Tom Riddle gave her a sense of pride in being herself.  I told her then, her ambition to be something more than the youngest Weasley was not bad in itself, but using ambition without regard to others feelings was dangerous."

"Ambition does not make a wizard Dark," spat Harry, thinking that the Sorting Hat had told him he had a thirst to prove himself.  He could still feel that ambition flowing through him, ambition to save his friends no matter what. Ambition could be a good thing. 

"And I don't believe Ginny Weasley chose the Dark Mark.  If you want to believe that, if it makes you feel better, soothes your conscience—" Harry made a strangled noise and turned away, so angry that he wanted to pull his wand.  He wanted to force Dumbledore to do something. Anything.  He had no right to be so indifferent.  He was the headmaster.  He was the only wizard that Voldemort ever feared. Why was he feared when he seemed so powerless? Wasn't he supposed to protect them all?

"What about Beatrice?  What about your Prophecy Child?" spat Harry, his righteous anger was bubbling up unchecked.  He had never felt like this when Dumbledore was supposed to be protecting him.  He had his mother's protection.  He had his own wand, but when others were threatened, it tore him apart.  Beatrice and Samara were raised in Muggle households.  No matter that when he had faced Voldemort in his first year he did not have any more knowledge than they did.  In fact, he probably had considerably less, but Harry felt angry on behalf of Samara and Beatrice. They were supposed to be protected. 

"So what are you doing?" he asked Dumbledore.  "Nothing?  Nothing at all?"

Dumbledore sighed.  "I probably shouldn't tell you this," he said.

"Oh by all means, don't tell Harry Potter anything—" spat Harry, spinning around and glaring venomously at the headmaster.

"I'm sorry, Harry.  I deserved that," said Dumbledore.

You deserve a lot more than that, thought Harry acidly, but he let Dumbledore continue.

"But I never kept anything from you to hurt you.  I only thought of your protection.  From the first, you were placed with the Dursley's, with your mother's blood. I know that you didn't have the sort of life I would have wished for you, Harry, but you were safe."

Dumbledore paced away and gathered up some tidbits to feed to Fawkes, who rubbed his head lovingly against Dumbledore.  "Keeping you safe was of prime importance. The prophecy, Trelawney's prophecy, made it very clear that only you would be marked by Voldemort. We couldn't afford to have you die as a child."

Harry rubbed his hand unconsciously over his forehead.

"Yes, Harry. Your scar. You were marked as the only one who could defeat him. And professor Trelawney predicted it."

"Did she now?" said Harry, fastening his relentless gaze on Dumbledore.  "I don't seem to remember anything in the prophecy you gave me about me being marked as the only one who can defeat Voldemort. So when are you going to tell me the whole prophecy?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore looked at him, blue eyes intense, and when Harry didn't look away, Dumbledore hung his head and sighed.  "Perhaps I should have told you this long ago.  Surely, I should have told you at the beginning of this year.  Severus said—well, never mind what Severus said." Dumbledore recited the prophecy from memory.

=

As his equal the Dark Lord will mark

A child whose power he knows not

Another child invited into the dark

And a child who was not sought

Either must die at the hand of the other

Neither can live while the other survives.

Protected once by the love of his mother

Blood of a mother forever saves lives.

At the height of the Dark Lord's Power

A Babe will lay him low.

Yet he will arise through his flower

Essences of friend, father and foe.

For within have snake and phoenix warred

But Phoenix must surely rule

For this bird rises again and again

And Eating Death is the fuel.

Will he Riddle the past with pain

Or Riddle the future with glory?

Six lives or deaths hang in time by three

Brave children who'll mend the story.

The foe unnamed falls to magic unknown

Magic born as the seventh month dies.

By magic and blood the rift is sown

Devoid of all time. Devoid of all lies

=

"Unknown, Harry.  Magic unknown is the key. Whatever I tell you, I risk telling you something that would break the prophecy's power."

"Ok," said Harry, thinking the opposite: wasn't the whole point of a prophecy to tell people about the future. Then actually telling people the prophecy wouldn't change the future, would it? Harry left those thoughts for later and concentrated on the girls. "But what about Ginny, Samara and Beatrice?  Who's going after them?"

"We don't even know where they are, Harry.  The Death Eaters Apparate or use a portkey. We don't have a geographic location, and even if we did, I'm not sure the girls want to be rescued."

"I'm not going to just leave them there," Harry said, his voice cracking.

Dumbledore nodded.  "I know." He sighed as if uncertain what to reveal.  At last he spoke again. "You must promise you will not try to rescue them."

Harry said nothing.

"They are not abandoned."  Dumbledore sighed. "You cannot reveal what I am about to tell you."

Harry nodded.

"There is a secret group of wizards that have worked together through the last war.  You heard me say that I wanted to alert the old crowd last year.  Well, they have been alerted.  The Order of the Phoenix has been reinstated."  He stroked Fawkes as he spoke.  "We are doing all that can be done.

Harry doubted that.  "Ok," he said in defeat and turned to leave. "Thanks for your time," he said flatly.   

"Harry—" Dumbledore called after him.  "It will be ok.  Try to relax. Concentrate on your school work. Lemon drop?"

"No thank you."  He left Dumbledore's chambers without looking back.

++

"Well?" asked Ron when he got back to the common room.

Harry shook his head.  "He's not going to do anything.  He said there are adult wizards who are working on it—"

"Well, maybe there are," interrupted Hermione.

Harry scowled. "And us kiddies should just concentrate on our school work, eat some candy and forget about them," continued Harry caustically. 

"We should talk to Sirius," said Hermione.

Harry sat beside Ron and ran his hands through his hair and over his forehead.  He realized that the headache that had plagued him for so long was gone.  It had been gone since Samara had last healed him. "Hermione," he asked, "do you know how many Dark witches and wizards have been healers?"


"I don't know an exact number, but not that many," said Hermione. "Maybe that's why Voldemort wants the prophecy child: because she's a healer.  I imagine that the dark wizards need healing, too, on occasion."

"Yeah," said Harry, rubbing his hand over his scar. He remembered that Samara was tired even after the healing she did on him and that was voluntary. He shuddered to think what Voldemort would want her to heal.

"Hermione, I think we were wrong about Samara's wand.  I don't think Samara is a dark witch."

"I—don't think so either," said Hermione slowly.  "But—"

"And I know Beatrice isn't."

"No," said Hermione.

"And whether or not Ginny has a Dark Mark—"

"She's still my sister," stated Ron firmly.

Hermione reached out and took Ron's hand in her own. Harry nodded.

There were a few minutes of silence around the table, everyone thinking about their three friends imprisoned by the Dark Lord.  Harry felt his breath catch thinking of the fear and the pain of the Crucio when he last met the Dark Lord.  His imagination then traveled to the Chamber of Secrets and he remembered holding Ginny's limp body.  What tortures had that Snake thought up for her now—her and Samara and Beatrice?

"So when are we going?" asked Ron softly.

"I'm not sure," answered Harry, thinking he should have gone already.

Hermione reached out and took Harry's hand in hers too.

"Soon," said Harry gently squeezing Hermione's hand.   "Soon."

++

Today was the first day of the Christmas break.  An entire week had passed since Samara and Ginny had disappeared with the Dark Lord, and during that time, Harry had railed again and again at Dumbledore to no avail.  It seemed as if Dumbledore had already written all three of the girls off.

Like a string wound too tight and ready to break, Harry settled at the far end of the Gryffindor table with his friends, Ron and Hermione.  He didn't want to disturb anyone else with his admittedly morose mood.  He thought about his parents and Cedric, lost to death, and now Samara and Ginny and Beatrice.  If he had recognized Samara for what she was when she healed him, what difference would that have made?  Neville came in and sat silently a seat away.

Harry continued to pick at his food as a group of Ravenclaws came into the Great Hall. Cho was with them. One year had passed since he had been jealous of Cedric for taking Cho to the Yule ball.  It seemed like a lifetime ago.  His eyes were still drawn to her.  He still thought her pretty.  She was talking to her friend, Ananda, saying something about this "Dark Prophecy Child."

Harry pricked up his ears, unabashedly listening.  If Cho knew anything that would help them recover Samara, he wanted to know about it.

"Of course she's dark," Cho said.  "Everyone knows she went of her own free will.  I never liked her myself.  Remember how she always sided with the Slytherins when she came to Ravenclaw?"

"She didn't," said Ananda. "She sided with Aldwin."

"She said Slytherins didn't make the choices, and we all know they did.  Half of them can't wait to be Death Eaters.  Well, I can tell you one thing: once I get my auror's certificate, there will be a few less of them." Cho raised her eyes and glared at the Slytherin table. "I'm glad the aurors will hunt her down."

"Cho, you don't mean that," said Ananda.

"You've never lost someone you loved," her eyes filled with tears.  "Cedric—"   she sniffed and wiped her eyes.  "I still miss him so much, Ananda, and to think those Death Eaters were in my very own house.  Samara and Gloria—"

"Gloria's a baby," said Ananda.  "She's not even twelve yet, and she's never done anything to you."

"She chose Voldemort," said Cho. "That's enough."

"Hi Hermione," said Ananda as the Gryffindor approached the Ravenclaw table. 

"Want to sit with us?" asked Cho, scooting over to make room for another chair at the table.

Harry practically ground his teeth, wondering how Hermione could sit with them. But she refused.

"No," said Hermione.  "I just wanted to ask you a question."

"Sure," said Cho, obviously expecting something academic. 

"I couldn't help but overhear your conversation about the Prophecy child going dark," said Hermione.  "Do you think she planned to be dark?"

"Does it matter?"

"Well, I don't know, but I think it does.  Sometimes decisions made in haste are regretted later."

"Not something like that, Hermione," said Cho, brushing her hair back with a flourish.

"So what do you think she should have done?"  Hermione questioned with a frown.  "If he demanded with his wand trained on her, demanded that she come with him, what should she have done?"

"Headmaster Dumbledore answered that question," said Cho.  "He said some of us would be tested, and asked to choose between what is right and what is easy. He said we shouldn't compromise what is right."

"So she should have died?"

Cho nodded.  "If that was the only way she could have avoided going with him. Yes.  She should have died rather than compromise her principles."

"Is that what you would have done, Cho?" Hermione asked her voice soft.

"Of course," Cho snapped.  "I'm no Death Eater."

Hermione shook her head thoughtfully as if a notion had just occurred to her.  "I don't think you would have, Cho.  I think you would have gone with him too," Hermione said softly.

"How dare you!" snapped Cho, coming to her feet.

Harry stood too, wand drawn, but Ron laid a hand on Harry, restraining him.  "Let Hermione finish it," he whispered.

"No, I don't think you would have died for your principles," Hermione reasoned calmly.  "You see, if you were that brave, you would have been sorted into Gryffindor, wouldn't you?"

Cho sputtered for a moment and then her mouth hung open, speechless.

"Is that what happened?" asked Ananda.  "There are rumors all over school.  You were there."

"No," said Hermione.  "That isn't what happened.  The choice was not between going with him or dying—"

"Well, see—" began Cho, but Hermione interrupted her.  

"The choice was between going with him or watching Harry and I die."

"Oh—" said Ananda, her mouth freezing into a small o shape.

"Sometimes," said Hermione softly, "there is no good choice." She walked back to the Gryffindor table and Ron put an arm around her shoulders.  "I'm not very hungry," she said. 

"Want to go back to the room?" asked Ron.

Hermione nodded silently and the two of them, wrapped in each other's arms left the Great Hall.

Harry sat for a moment longer and then, when Dumbledore left the head table, he decided to follow.  One more time, he thought.  He'd try one more time to get Dumbledore to see that Samara was not a dark witch.  He caught up with Dumbledore just before he entered his office, and he invited Harry in. 

"Lemon drop?" he asked. 

Harry refused, his stomach was already arguing with his breakfast.  "It's about Samara," Harry said.  "She isn't a dark witch and neither is Ginny."

"I'm not unsympathetic," said Dumbledore. "But we've been over this ground before. I believe Samara went of her own free will, and Virginia Weasley, unfortunately, has a Dark Mark"

"So does Snape!" shouted Harry, "but you helped him!"

"Snape sought my assistance," said Dumbledore.  "Even I could not have plucked him from Voldemort's stronghold.  No matter how much faith you have in my power, it is not so great."

Harry wondered why he had any faith at all in Dumbledore's power.  The more he thought about it, the less faith he had.  Dumbledore had always been a little off—Harry remembered him giving them the words: nitwit, blubber, oddment, tweak as inspiration in first year.  Still, everyone said that Dumbledore was the only one Voldemort feared.

"Please," Harry whispered.  "Professor, I need your help."

Dumbledore sucked thoughtfully on his lemon drop.  "No," he said at last.  "You do not need my help.  I believe it is Samara's help you need.  Alas, that is not to be."  Fawkes lifted from his perch and flew to Dumbledore's shoulder.  He laid his beautiful head against Dumbledore's cheek, and Dumbledore stroked his feathers. 

When he finally realized that nothing was going to change Dumbledore's mind, Harry stalked out of the office and glanced at his watch.  He was still early for his meeting with Sirius, but he needed the cold clear air to cool his anger.  He decided to walk slowly, and consider what he could say to his godfather to make him understand.

Surely he would not be so cold and unfeeling, thought Harry as he headed for Hagrid's hut for the meeting with Sirius.

++

Harry paced the length of Hagrid's hut as if he wanted to wear a hole in the floor. The black robes billowing out behind him, as he emphasized his words with his wand.  "Samara is not a dark witch!"

"Harry, sit down," urged Sirius.

"We all had our doubts about her wand, but I'm telling you, she protected us.  That has to count for something.  Dumbledore is certain that she took down the Hogwart's wards, but she's not dark.  You should have heard her speaking to Voldemort."

"No one heard her parseltongue but you Harry," said Hermione.

"But she protected us.  Didn't she?  You even told Cho—"

Hermione nodded.  "She did, but I'm still not sure, Harry.  I just didn't like Cho's attitude.  In the end, Samara did tell us to get out—she was going with Voldemort, and she did have his basilisks crawling all over her body."  Hermione shuddered

"Yeh know, they ain't rightly dangerous till they open their eyes," said Hagrid sipping his tea.  "Just a little pinch of a bite—Not nearly as terrible as dragons—"

Harry stared at him.

"What do you think, Ron?" asked Hermione.

"About what?" asked Ron listlessly?  His tear-streaked face was blank, his thoughts a million miles away with Ginny, his little sister.

"What do your parents say?" asked Sirius gently. "I wish I could go to them—offer my condolences. Damn Wormtail."

"Not condolences," said Harry. "She's not dead.  Offer your help!  You escaped from Azkaban!  That has to be worse than escaping from Voldemort."

"Harry, you don't understand," said Sirius.  "Dumbledore has reinstated the Order of the Phoenix.  There are wizards working on finding them—"

"Finding them and killing them," spat Harry, his voice rising with his anger. "He believes Samara is dark. He believes she went of her own free will.  The aurors will kill her.  And Ginny—well, he didn't rush into the Chamber to save her in second year, did he?  He just wrote her off—sent Lockhart—hired Lockhart—"

"He wasn't there," began Hermione.

"He's never there!" shouted Harry.  "Voldemort was right. Late as usual Dumbledore—"

"Ye won't be talking ill of Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid gruffly.  "Even if I like ye, Harry. Ye won't be talking ill—"

"He's just upset," said Sirius gently.  "We all are."

There was a long silence as Hermione and Ron just stared at Harry.

"Mum said Ginny might as well be dead," said Ron, the tears overtaking him again. "But in the next breath she was calling the Ministry—I tried to tell her Fudge was dark—" Ron shook his head tiredly and put it on the table.

"We'll find them," said Harry.  "With or without your help, Sirius—"

"Now just a minute," said Sirius.  "I never said I wouldn't help."

"Well, you need to make up your mind," said Hermione testily.  "The train leaves in fifteen minutes."

"I suppose I'm coming with you," snapped Sirius.  "If I don't, you'll just go yourselves anyway."

"You have that right," said Harry.  "So is everything set at your house, Hermione?"

She nodded.

"I don't like involving the Muggles," voiced Sirius. 

"My parents will give us the most freedom of motion," said Hermione.  "They don't even know there is a Dark Lord.  If we stay with the Weasley's, we'll just be confined and treated like children."

Sirius looked at the ceiling and rolled his eyes, as if to say, you are children, but he refrained from actually saying the words and, for that, Harry was grateful.

"So what did your parents say about your spending Christmas break with Hermione?" Sirius asked Ron. 

"Oh, Dad was ecstatic for me.  Imagine spending Christmas in a real Muggle house!  And then Mum said she thought I should stay home.  She said, we should all be together especially since Ginny—" Ron bit his lip. "I told them, I couldn't stand the house without her there and they relented.  Percy isn't coming for Christmas dinner either.  He says he has to work."

"The Ministry's closed," said Sirius.

Ron shrugged.

"We're going to miss the train if we don't get going," said Hermione, and they stood, gathering up their belongings and heading across the snow-covered lawn.

"We could just Apparate," said Harry.

"I know," said Hermione, "but it's against the rules."

"Everyone else is," said Ron, who was finally getting a little better at Apparating, but both Hermione and Harry held their breath every time he did it.

"We should wait until we're licensed," said Hermione.

And, because they had Hermione with them, they arrived back at Gryffindor tower after a trudge through the snow. 

"Passim Pacem," said Harry.

"Indeed," agreed the fat lady.  "We can certainly hope for peace far and wide, but I wouldn't hold my breath, Harry.  Of course, holding my breath is certainly no unusual feat.  There are some pictures who have never breathed, did you know?"

"I didn't," Harry confessed while walking away from the portrait hole. "I guess I should pay more attention to details like that."

"Indeed you should," called the fat lady.  "Pictures can teach you many things, if you simply look."

Sirius shook himself vigorously and trotted over to the fire.  Brushing the ice from the bottom of their robes, the trio began a last check before leaving for Christmas break.

"Do you think they'll have the Apparition wards fixed by the time we come back?" asked Hermione.

"If we come back," said Ron.  "McGonagall is still saying they might close the school.  They need certain compatible wizards to set the wards properly."

"Well no wonder," said Hermione.  "Those wards have been up since the beginning of the school.  I was reading in Hogwarts a History, they were set up by—" her voice trailed off a worried look in her eyes.

"What is it?" asked Harry.

"The wards were set up by the founders," said Hermione.

"Something else Salazar screwed around with," spat Harry.

Neville met them in the common room.  "I was waiting for you," he said.  "I wanted to tell you goodbye. Gran doesn't want me to come back next year."

"What!" the trio cried in unison.

"She thinks it's too dangerous with—with the kidnapping and the Lestrange brothers here."

"Oh Neville!"  Hermione threw her arms around him and hugged him.  "We'll miss you."

"Are you going after them?  I want to come with you."  Neville said quietly.  The soft light of an Apparition appeared in the corner of the room.  "Are you going after them?" he asked again.

"Just the question I wanted to ask," said Draco Malfoy, who had just Apparated into the room and was leaning nonchalantly against the sofa, his soft green robe clashing horribly with the deep red of the sofa.

"You can't do that!" snapped Hermione.  "You can't Apparate right into someone else's common room."

Neville had pulled his wand and held it trained on Draco.

"I was under the impression," said Draco brushing an imaginary piece of lint from his robe, "that I just did."  He stepped forward and with his thumb and forefinger turned the tip of Neville's wand away from himself.  "So when is this little rescue going to take place?" he asked, turning back to Harry.

"Why?" snapped Harry.  "Do you need to tell Voldemort?"

"Why no, Potter.  I expect he'll know about it without my intervention, but I did want to tell you that Samara's in no condition to travel, yet.  You should wait."

"What's wrong with her?" said Harry alarmed.

Draco shrugged.  "She may be dying."  He studied his fingernails as if wondering if he should get a manicure when he got home.

"What?" snapped Harry.

"And what about Ginny?" growled Ron, grabbing the unsuspecting Draco by the collar of his robe and shoving him up against the wall.  "What did you Death Eaters do to her?"

"Why nothing, Weasel," drawled Draco. "She did everything for herself.  She practically put on her own Dark Mark."

As Ron pulled back his fist for a punch, Draco finally reacted, a handful of flame setting Ron's sleeve on fire.

"Glacio flagro," said Hermione, freezing the flame

"And I was s-o-o trying to hold my temper," Draco said in a bored voice.  "I understand, your being so distraught about your sister and all—"

"You don't understand anything," screamed Ron, nursing his burnt hand.

"You're the one that took Samara to Voldemort," accused Harry.

"Yes, well, now I want her back."

 "If you wanted her back," said Harry, "you shouldn't have given her to him in the first place."

"When's the rescue?" Draco persisted.

"Why didn't you ask some of your Slytherin friends for help?" asked Harry.  "Why us?"

"You misunderstand.  I'm not asking you for your help, Potter.  I'm giving the help."

"That doesn't answer my question."

Draco sighed.  "Because none of my Slytherin friends are dumb enough to try this sort of stunt."  He shrugged.  "Besides, I wouldn't have taken her in the first place if she hadn't needed his protection."

"What!" All three of them stared at him. 

"Protection from what?" asked Harry.

"Not what, Potter. Who.  Dumbledore had put her in the Chamber of Chains."

Harry frowned.  "Where?"

Sirius whined at Harry's feet.

Draco glanced down at the dog.  "Your godfather knows," said Draco.  "Why don't you ask him about the Chamber of Chains?"

Harry kept his eyes solidly on Draco.  Draco couldn't possibly know about Sirius.  He couldn't know that Sirius was an animagus.  He couldn't know that the black dog was Sirius, and yet— "Why don't you tell us," said Harry.

"Because you wouldn't believe me," said Draco.  "Send me an owl, Ok. Before you go."  He paced towards the door.  "And don't put anything stupid in it, in case my mother intercepts it."

"Forget it Malfoy," said Ron.  "We don't need you—"

"On the contrary," said Draco. "Without me, you don't have a chance in hell of bringing either of them back alive."

"So why are you doing this?' asked Harry.

"I thought I made myself clear," said Draco.  "I want Samara back—alive—"

"You really care about her," said Hermione.  "You love her."

Draco stared at her thoughtfully for a moment.  "Better go back to the non-fiction tomes, Mudblood.  The fairy tales are starting to addle your brain."  He raised his wand, "Itare phantasma!"

"So, do we trust him?" asked Harry.

"Are you out of your mind?  Mudbloods-and-Muggle-lovers-first Malfoy?  He just wants to know what we are doing, the sneaky little ferret."

"I wish we could see his aura," said Neville. "Then we would know for sure."

"Samara saw his aura," said Harry.  "She trusted him."

"Yeah, and look where it got her," countered Ron. "Her and Ginny—Even if he wants to get Samara back, he won't care about Ginny."

"Or Beatrice," added Hermione.

"So, we go alone?" asked Harry.

All around heads were nodding.

Sirius whined softly.

"We go alone," confirmed Hermione.

"And what about this Chamber of Chains?" wondered Harry.

"I don't know," said Hermione, patting Snuffles.  "But we don't have time to go back to Hagrid's hut.  We'd better go NOW or we're going to miss the train."

Snuffles whined in response.

"We'll see you at my house in a couple of days," Hermione whispered to Snuffles as she placed a kiss on the top of his furry black head. 

+++

15 reviews and the next chapter magically appears.

Answers to Reviews Below:

Claret345:  What a wonderful review!  Thanks for your glowing comments and most of all, thanks for saying specifically what you liked. (or disliked)

Tamora Pierce:  Thanks for your review

Tajua aki' el:  Sorry you thought there was a hold up.  Glad you found the fic though.

Tamara:  Here's the update as requested

XASA  Your comments made me realize some other folks who don't visit the group may have been waiting for the sequel, so I emailed my whole list.  Spread the word!  The sequel is here!

Emma:  Thanks for reading.  I don't recognize you from the previous fic, but of course your review is anonymous, so you may have reviewed under a different name.  If you haven't read the first book, you might want to read it.  You will find this one much better if you do.  You're going to miss a lot of the jokes and sometimes wonder where things came from.  For example, you missed the reference to "Quit" and Ginny's comment, "I know the feeling." If you didn't read the first fic.

Sky:  Glad to see you back Sky.  I've missed you.  And yes, Draco is still Draco!

Tiamat Warcraft:  Poor bunny. I hope it wasn't named Beatrice.

Terry:  Yes, that just about describes Volde—ick!  As far as Snape's loyalties.  Who knows?

Trillium:  I missed your long involved review.  Next time, highlight the whole thing and hit control c before you send it.  Then if fanfic eats it, you will still have your review and you can put in on notepad or something to save until fanfic is in a better mood.

Jager:  Still easing in, but lots of action is coming.

Silverfox:  I didn't say Sevi is going out with Luci.  I never said that.  I didn't.  Although I'm sure Volde would think, whatever works Lucius.  Hehehe. 

Garrett:  Loose ends?  You think there were loose ends?  Just wait.  (evil laughter)

Kemenran:  ok

Ennui deMorte:  Sending Ennui Helga's best cookies and hot chocolate.  Thanks for a wonderful job betaing this chapter, and also thanks for the great review.  I don't think Ginny's going to sic her basilisk on Draco no matter how much you want her to though.

OK,  GO REVIEW NOW.