Edit 8-18-04: I spelled "Mekhi" wrong. I borrowed the name from an actor in NBC's "ER", Mekhi Phifer.

The Old Lot

The Deception

"What the hell is he doing here?" Ron said loudly.

"Quiet!" Hermione and Ginny shushed him, and they noticed a young mother at a table near them covered her child's ears. Ron noticed too and apologized. "But really, what is he doing here? No one's seen him in ages. And look," he pointed at the map, "He's not there anymore."

"Well, I suppose we could go out by the Shack, and wait for him . . .?" suggested Ginny, hurriedly. The others exchanged glances and Ginny bit her lip. "I mean it's the least we'll be able to do. He looked like he was in a hurry."

"But Malfoy?" Hermione breathed. "He's been missing as long as Harry has! What if he's somehow involved?"

"Then he'll get what's coming to him, that's for sure," Ron growled, as he cracked his knuckles. His face was steadily reddening.

"Well, what if he's dangerous?" Hermione said. Ginny looked at Hermione. "It's not as though we haven't got wands!" she said, holding hers up for proof. "We'd be better off."

Ron got up and pushed in his chair. "Well you two can stick around, discuss this, and eat your sandwiches, but I'm going out and seeing what's up." True to his word, Ron stepped out the door and his cloak disappeared around the corner. Ginny then stood, looked at Hermione, and followed Ron out. Hermione sighed, threw down her napkin onto the table and gathered up the map to leave.

As she caught up to her brother, Ginny's thoughts whirled around her head so fast she was getting dizzy. Draco Malfoy, just about a block away from her? She had often suspected him of being related to Harry's disappearance, but here? Right now? She grabbed Ron's sleeve to make him stop. While she had been running to catch up to him, his long strides allowed him to just walk and maintain a distance of several feet. He turned around and his expression softened slightly when he must have realized she wasn't a crazy stalker-person. Git.

"Let's – wait – for – Hermione," she managed to gasp, and she pulled Ron down onto the nearest bench. Ron looked extremely irritated. "What if he gets away? We have to catch him!"

"Pound him into the ground, more like," Ginny mumbled as she leaned forward to see Hermione walking swiftly towards them.

"Well, yes, that too," Ron agreed, and when he saw Hermione he got up again. "She's close enough, just keep up the pace," he told Ginny, and he was off again, each step seemingly longer than the last. She shook her head, now also irritated, and waved Hermione to hurry up.

"He's so anxious," Ginny said, and they tried to match his stride. With no luck, they broke into a run.

Ron had stopped at the edge of the lawn, and when they had caught up, they noticed Ron looking angrier than ever, and without warning he ran at top speed into the Shrieking Shack. Hermione sighed loudly but she, too, looked furious at the thought of Malfoy narrowly escaping them like this.

The two women waited around for several silent minutes in waiting, exchanging no words of any sort. After an eternity, Ron stalked out of the building, his face white and crestfallen. Then his old anger returned.

"He's gone," Ron growled, punching the air with his fist. As though the sound had been turned off since they'd been running, her heart filling simultaneously with fright and hope, the sound of locals making their day's trip into town flooded her ears with the force of a broken dam. She, too, was quite frustrated that Malfoy had slipped right through their fingers by chance; also that no more than a half hour earlier the three of them had been walking out of the Shrieking Shack with only lunch on their minds.

Hermione looked more than a bit miffed now – by the way her hair seemed to curl and heighten before your eyes you'd think she was on the very edge of sanity, or worse.

"I can't believe it!" she managed to shriek in a whisper. "Right here, right now, and we happen to have the map? And he's gone? It's outrageous! And right through our fingertips!" Hermione's ranting became steadily louder, each phrase more incoherent than the last. Ron and Ginny decided to let it go for a while, although heads started turning as they exited the sweet shop, Honeydukes, at the corner. They silently agreed to avoid eye contact.

"-If we could've, if only we would've waited-"

"We didn't have a have reason to, Hermione," Ron said, his voice steady, though you could tell by his expression he was gathering all his self-control to remain calm while his wife could not.

"Yes, well, we should've paid more attention to the map in the tunnel, it would've showed-"

"It was completely dark except for our wands," Ginny said meekly. "We didn't need the map; the tunnel is only one path. We don't even know if Malfoy came out into the Shack, he could've Apparated once off the Hogwarts grounds. The map ends-"

"Maybe the map was wrong!" Hermione shouted at Ginny, pausing in her hysterical pacing. Ginny shrunk back only a little before she whispered, looking down at her feet, "The Marauder's Map never lies." Having unknowingly quoted her Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher of her second year, Ginny didn't understand why, just then, Hermione stopped with an enormous intake of breath and collapsed to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably. Ron, realizing, too, what Ginny had said, sat down at Hermione's side and put a strong, comforting arm around her. He shushed Ginny when she began to ask what exactly she'd done.

"I miss – him so much," Hermione moaned.

"Who?" Ron asked.

"Who?" Hermione repeated miserably. "Who've we been thinking about constantly the last few days? Harry, you dolt! Our – best friend. The best man at our wedding and – and the godfather to our first child, who has yet even to be born! But I want him to be here!" Apparently this had been the last Hermione could give. She buried her face into Ron's chest and thousands of tears, long since in need of shedding, soaked his shirt.

Ginny wasn't sure whether to stay for support or to let the couple cope alone, so, trying to meet in the middle somewhere, she suggested, "Why don't we get a room in the Three Broomsticks?"

"That's an excellent idea," Ron said, faint relief in his voice. He helped up Hermione, who dried her eyes and face with sleeves, and he put his free arm around Ginny. Together they walked up the emptying street, once again disturbed by a new turn of events.

After Dane, the bartender, had shown Ron and Hermione into one room and Ginny into another, Ron went back to the castle to retrieve their things from the teachers' lounge. To pass the time in between his departure and return, Ginny joined Hermione in the couple's room and the two played cards. Hermione was a lot calmer, and the tears she'd shed at last had revived her. 'I'm surprised I lasted that long without them,' she had laughed on their way up the street.

As Ginny turned to look at the clock (8:03 PM), Ron walked in the door. He carried a suitcase in each hand and one under his arm. Ginny got up off the bed and eased his load by taking her suitcase from his left hand. Ron set down the other two next to him and said, "What have you two got in there, bricks?"

"No, but just enough stuff so that I can do the wash every week. We don't know how long we'll be gone." Hermione's voice faded towards the end of her statement. Ginny took the opportunity to tell them her plans for the evening. "I think I'll unpack my things now, and then head down to Honeydukes. Ivy's never had a Sugar Quill, so I think I'll send her some things from the post office."

Ron nodded. "Would you mind picking up some Chocolate Frogs for me? I have a sudden craving for chocolate..."

Ginny smiled. "Sure."

"Okay, just let me give you some money..."

"Oh Ron, please, I can handle it. You two just settle in and I'll be back in half an hour." With that Ginny heaved her suitcase through the door joining the two rooms. She unpacked a few outfits into the small closet by the bed and pocketed a few Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts. As she turned to leave, however, she remembered something and bent over her suitcase once more. She dug through a mass amount of clothing and found what she was looking for at the bottom of the bag: a photo of Harry and her on their wedding day. She propped it up on the night table and smiled as Harry kissed her photographic self's cheek.

The days were getting longer, and the nights cooler. Ginny could see just between some shops the sun, low in the sky, indicating that the sun would be setting within the hour. Wanting to be back at the inn before then, she quickened her pace and soon reached Honeydukes. – Just the same as when I was last here, she thought. – Though it looks like they've got a wider selection...

New items she hadn't seen before included Everlasting Ice Cream ("Won't melt for weeks in 50ËšC weather!"), Make Your Own Slugs ("Tease your little sister!"), and Melt-in-your-mouth Snowflakes ("No two are alike!") Ginny thought the Snowflakes would be good for Ivy, so she bought a few packets of those, but she definitely felt safer with all the old classics: Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans, Droobles Best Blowing Gum, Sugar Quills, Chocolate Frogs, and so many more.

When she'd finished her candy shopping, some of which she'd had put in a gift bag, Ginny headed down to the post office.

Hundreds of owls sat on shelves, color-coded and ready to go on their next mission. While looking for the right owl, a dark man dressed in uniform asked her, "D'you need help with anything, Miss?"

"Well, yes," Ginny started, caught slightly off-guard by the voice with a slight French accent. "I'd like to send these," –she held up the bag- "to my daughter in Ottery St. Catchpole." The man looked up, scanning rows of owls, obviously looking for a certain one. Finally he broke into an odd looking smile, revealing a gold tooth. "Lieutenant!" said the man suddenly. Just then a large, gray owl came swooping down onto his arm. "Strictly speaking," he whispered, "we're not supposed to name the birds. Got numbers, see?" He showed Ginny a little green tag clipped to the bird's wing, and on it said '126'. "But I've known this bird for a while, one of the best." He smiled again at her. "Would you like me to handle the package?"

"No, I'm fine, thanks," Ginny said, feeling more and more troubled by the man's presence. "I've got it, really." The man's smile faded faintly, and then he nodded. "Alright," he said. "My name's Mekhi, if you ever need a hand."

"Thank you Mekhi," Ginny said, taking the owl from his arm. "Thank you for your help." She secured the package to the bird's foot and walked quickly to the counter.

"That'll be two Galleons and six Sickles," announced the man behind the counter. Ginny handed him the coins, thanked him, and left the post office with what she hoped wasn't recognized as a nervously fast pace.

Once outside in the crisp, autumn air, Ginny felt somehow relieved. She didn't exactly know why that man had scared her, but something about him hadn't been quite right, like he'd sought her out on purpose. – Get a grip, she told herself. – You're just overreacting.

Suddenly, not paying attention, Ginny stumbled into someone. She gasped and saw the someone, who was a medium height, round-faced man, fall over backwards. He dropped a package, and Ginny realized he must've been heading to where she'd just come from. He took the package, stood up, and as he was brushing himself off, Ginny recognized him.

"Neville!" she said. She went in and hugged her old friend, but when she backed away, Neville wasn't smiling. "Neville?" she asked, "Are you alright?" He blinked and there was a grin there, so Ginny almost sighed in a strange relief.

"Good to see you, Ginny! What are you doing around here?"

"I could ask the same of you," Ginny said excitedly. "I got your letter last month, and you said you were taking a holiday with your Aunt Wittle."

Neville laughed. "Well, Auntie fell ill the day before I was to leave, and she... she said it's 'highly contagious' and I'd 'better not come after all'."

"Oh that's terrible!" Ginny said consolingly, while Neville nodded his head. "I do hope she gets better." She looked to her right and saw the horizon; the sun was nearly hidden by the earth. "I'd better go," she hastened. "Ron and Hermione are back at the Three Broomsticks. 'Bye." Just as she turned to leave, Neville grabbed her arm.

"Wait," he said. "You didn't tell me why you're here." He smirked at her like he was about to say 'Thought you'd get away with it, eh?'

"Well, the three of us thought we'd spend some time together, you know, away from, uh, certain distractions." Ginny had said this all very fast. "It was nice seeing you again, Neville," she said slower. "I wish your Aunt good health." She smiled a smile she knew must look artificial and started walking in the opposite direction.

– What the hell was that? she thought. – Neville had just been perfectly courteous and I was so rude. What had come over me? She felt awful having treated Neville that way, for no one deserved that kind of attitude. Thinking she would at least apologize for her atrocious behavior, Ginny turned around to see no sign of him; only last minute shoppers made their ways down and up the street.

Ginny didn't even know why she didn't tell Neville the real reason she, Ron and Hermione were staying in Hogsmeade; it wouldn't have done any harm. Maybe she subconsciously didn't feel it necessary to be blabbing to every old friend she met that they were looking for Harry... That satisfied her mind, so she walked up to her room, delivered Ron his Chocolate Frogs, and laid herself down to a pleasant sleep.

Cold and shivering. Invisible cracks in the walls. Arctic air numbing his skin. Human ice cube... Colder than the lake at Hogwarts... Harry could see in the small pool of water, whose surface was freezing over, that his lips were turning blue and frost glittered in his eyelashes. The room was poorly insulated, if at all, but this was still the worst autumn he'd ever experienced. He jerked violently at the thought of what winter would be like...

More than not wanting to have to endure frostbitten toes and fingers for the sixth consecutive year, Harry dreaded having Christmas alone. Last year, he was served undercooked turkey, raw string beans, and moldy crescent rolls. The year before, Dementors hosted his dinner. He hadn't even known there were any Dementors still around; they'd been supposedly wiped out by the Ministry at the end of the Second War. But the screaming inside his head, no longer of just his parents, assured him that what he was seeing was real. He was very surprised (and very lucky) that they hadn't kissed him.

Now, he'd taken to watching his fingers shake, seeing how long it would be until he would hit himself in the face. 10 seconds... 6 seconds... 3 seconds...

Wake up, git! You're not dead yet... Trying to get a grip on himself, Harry rubbed his bruised wrists that had only been unshackled yesterday. At least now he had the freedom to smooth his hands over his goose pimpled flesh.

Suddenly something was not right. He felt comfortable. His arms were stationary and his teeth stopped chattering. The heavy wooden door to his cell opened slowly and without a creak, looking as though it were light as a feather. Then a bright white, celestial being floated through the doorway... I must be dreaming... Then he was knocked out.

When he came to, Harry heard shrill laughter somewhere in front of him. The brightness was gone, and his eyes felt burned from the inside out, all from what the magnitude of the light had been a minute ago. Again he heard the laughter; it was very unpleasant and harsh on his ears.

"Potter, didn't you think my act was quite... heavenly?"

Now he recognized the voice and he groaned with a strong feeling of dread. If this was going to be like last time...

Feeling pleased with a good night's sleep, Ginny stretched in her lumpy hotel bed and arched her back like a cat, having slept in her typical curled up position. – Breakfast sounds good, she thought. At the same she wondered if Ron and Hermione were already up, but decided not to intrude in case they were, ahem, indisposed.

As she tiptoed, without real reason to, down the stairs voices told her that her friends were indeed already up. And this did not, in the least bit, soothe her...

Their voices sounded urgent, but their exact words were muffled by the stairwell. As quickly and quietly as she could, she came down the stairs and landed, to her utter dismay, with a loud creak on the last step. She stopped abruptly, silently cursing her lack of stealth. She cringed and hoped they wouldn't notice the noise, but luck failed her and Hermione stopped talking, looking up.

"Morning, Ginny," Hermione said, putting on an obviously forced smile. Her face was red and blotchy. "Some tea?" Ron didn't say anything, but stared at the table with intense concentration, his face and ears redder than Ginny had ever seen them.

"What's going on, you two?" Ginny asked. "Why are you acting as though I shouldn't know something?"

Hermione let slip a sob and Ron finally looked up. His face was stony and ash-tinged, using all his might to maintain composure.

"Someone's been murdered." He gestured to the newspaper between him and Hermione, who now had her face in her hands.

Ginny gasped. "Where?" she asked.

"Just in town," said Ron.

Ginny walked slowly towards the table, and laid eyes on the paper. Her breath caught in her throat. A moving picture of a man of about Harry's age was located on the front cover, his round face smiling modestly.

She tried several times to speak, though to no avail.

Ron gulped. "It's Neville," he said, however unnecessarily.

A/N: Sorry I haven't updated in a long time, I've been without a computer for that long. Even as I write this I don't have internet access... Obviously now that this chapter is up and you're reading it, I have it back, but writing this now... the past for you... ah well, I'm confusing myself. My brother says this chapter was too short... do you agree?

(REVIEW!!)

And I think now, in the past, I am going to start the next chapter...

Love, Alex (or g.e.o., whichever you all prefer...)