A/N: I am so sorry for the long wait. I had it ready to go last week, but the site wouldn't let me post it ... ugh, nightmare. I know this story has been moving slowly. Thank you to anyone who's still reading! (personal responses at the bottom)

And now for some really great news! I have a beta!!!!! She's only going to help me with this one story (I think). So everyone give a great round of applause for The Sadistic Master!!!!

Disclaimer: Nothing in Harry Potter's world belongs to me. View From The Other Side

Grace woke up late the next morning; sunlight was pouring in through the fake windows of the empty dorm. She dressed quickly, realizing with a sinking heart that she had no clean robes, and there was no time to find any others.

It's going to be a long day.

Dumbledore had already started the morning announcements when she reached the Great Hall. Everyone looked her way; she smiled vaguely and sat down at the Hufflepuff table next to Teri.

"… Gryffindor will have the field every Monday evening, Hufflepuff every Tuesday evening, Ravenclaw every Wednesday evening, and Slytherin every Thursday evening. Weekend practices will be assigned first-come, first-serve at two hours each. Captains, will you please stay behind for a quick briefing of this year's schedule.

"Hufflepuffs will be informed of a change in their common room password by the end of the day.

"And now, I am afraid, I have some very sad news to relate." There was a horrible sinking feeling in Grace's stomach … she was getting the feeling that she'd had a dream last night – a terrible dream, only she couldn't remember what it had been about. There'd been a lot of screaming.

"There was an attack last night," Dumbledore continued gravely. Grace craned her neck to see the Slytherins' reactions. Crabbe and Goyle, Malfoy's cronies, had actually put down their forks and were listening with apparent pleasure.

"An attack in Surrey," Dumbledore was saying. "An entire town, along with its inhabitants, was destroyed. This attack," he raised his voice so that it echoed slightly. Any whispering that might have started during the announcements was immediately hushed. "This attack was ordered by Lord Voldemort." A ripple of sound floated through the students, though no one actually spoke. "Those citizens were, in essence, murdered for not being born magical. This is the kind of evil we must stand against in these times.

"I would like the following students to remain behind, please. Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas, Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, Padma Patil, Cho Chang, Luna Lovegood, Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner, Terry Boot, Ginny Weasley, Seamus Finnigan, Harry Potter, Grace Potter. Everyone else is dismissed. Have a great learning day!"

Grace shared a glance with Teri (Jess and Laurie had gone back to their discussion of McGonagall's new hairstyle). She was nervous, but excited at the same time. Was Voldemort just picking random towns to destroy, or was there a method to his madness? She hoped she would finally find something out.

"Good luck," Teri whispered and squeezed her hand before collecting her bag and hurrying out of the Hall behind Jess and Laurie.

The students that had asked to stay behind made their way up to the staff table. Dumbledore spoke with the Quidditch captains about making sure to sign their teams up for weekend practices and trying to diminish the intensity of the team rivalries. All four of them shrugged their shoulders indifferently.

And then Dumbledore gathered the rest of the students around him. Grace moved forward eagerly, trying to get a spot that was both close to her brother and Dumbledore.

"As you are all aware," Dumbledore said, speaking in a much softer tone, "the attack in Surrey costs thousands of lives."

"Was the whole town destroyed, Professor?" a Hufflepuff girl with red pigtails asked.

"That's the interesting thing, Susan," Dumbledore answered. "The whole town was annihilated – except for one. One survivor."

"One out of several thousand," a blond Ravenclaw girl said in disbelief.

"Exactly." Dumbledore looked older and wearier up close than he did from afar.

"Which town was it?" Grace piped up.

Dumbledore sighed. "The truth," he began, "is a terrible and beautiful thing, and should therefore be treated with caution. I cannot tell you right now."

"Three guesses which town," Harry muttered to Ron.

"On that note," Dumbledore continued, "I have nothing more to discuss with you at the moment. We will talk some more about this at our next meeting. You are dismissed. Except! Harry and Grace, wait a moment, please, I wish to speak to you."

The rest of the large group moved off, talking in subdued tones at the thought of all that destruction.

"What meeting?" Grace asked eagerly. "Can I come too?"

"No," Harry and Dumbledore said at the same time.

"You're too young," Harry said.

"Dennis Creevey was just a second year when he –"

A look from the two of them shut her up.

"So, Harry," Dumbledore said with a sad, tired smile. "I would like to hear your three guesses!"

"A – Little Whinging, B – Little Whinging, and C – Little Whinging."

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "The entire town was destroyed."

"Figures."

"The – the whole …?" Grace started. "Everyone?"

"All except that one survivor, yes. There are no buildings left standing."

Grace looked down at the floor, trying to imagine the loss. Dudley, Piers, Malcolm Gordan, Mark Evans, Sam Peters, Lanie Peters, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley … SARAH!!!

She started trembling all over, her brain numbing at that final realization. Sarah … the little baby girl … what had she ever done to the Death Eaters … what had any of them done to the Death Eaters to make themselves targets?

"And the survivor, sir?"

"Your aunt."

Grace looked up. "Mrs. Dursley? She – she's the only one? But why?"

"I believe it has much to do with the blood protection I spoke to you about last year," Dumbledore said to Harry. "The act of kindness and the – the aftereffects of the pact … It seems to have protected her as much as it protected you."

"And," Harry said in a voice just above a whisper, "Mrs. Figg?"

"Arabella had been persuaded to spend the night at headquarters last night," supplied Dumbledore. "It seems she was invited to the house by Remus – they are old friends – and dinner ended too late for her to go home."

"So then there were two survivors?"

"'Survivor' generally means that the person survived a tragedy, Harry," said Dumbledore. "And Mrs. Figg wasn't there to experience the attack, so she cannot really be called a survivor. The same applies to your cousin. He was at school during the attack."

Grace was still trembling, and now she was heaving quiet, dry sobs and was rocking back and forth.

Harry pulled her into a hug and pressed his large hands against her back, trying to calm her. "Where's my aunt?" he asked quietly, his voice breaking.

"She's here," Dumbledore said simply. "At Hogwarts. Ready and waiting for you to meet her, if you so choose."

"Of course I don't," Harry said.

"That is perfectly all right, Harry," the old man said. "It is entirely your decision."

"I'm going to be late for class," Harry snapped and stormed off angrily across the Great Hall.

Grace looked up into Dumbledore's wizened face. His bright blue eyes were almost smiling at her, inviting her to ask the thing that was on her mind.

"Professor? They weren't looking for … me, were they?"

The older man frowned a little. "I see your brother has informed you about the summer attacks."

"Yes, sir," Grace said, looking down at the floor. There was no use trying to hide it from him.

"The interesting thing, Grace," Dumbledore said, "is that they might not have been looking for you. You see, before destroying Westerham, the Death Eaters stole your file from the orphanage and therefore determined to where you had been taken. But since school began, certain students in this school could have informed their parents that the child they were looking for was here. The Death Eaters aren't stupid, Grace, they know who you are. I think we can assume that they were not looking for you in Little Whinging."

"But sir," Grace said as she grew hotter and a lump formed in her throat – though she had no intention of crying in front of the headmaster. "Why would they come looking for me in the first place?"

"I … I must admit I don't know. They seem to be following your trail …" Dumbledore trailed off. "Not to worry. Our side has a twenty-four hour guard system set in place at the Burrow, Diagon Alley, and Platform Nine and Three Quarters."

"The Burrow?" Grace said. "Mr. and Mrs. Weasley wouldn't get hurt, would they?"

"We will try our best," the headmaster said, "though nothing can be guaranteed in these times. I have never seen this kind of fighting before," Dumbledore added in a softer tone, as if he were speaking more to himself than to Grace. "Even in the last war, and in Grindlewald's rise, it was never as bloody as this so quickly.

"If you have nothing else to ask, I suggest you hurry off to class now."

"Professor, can I join the meeting?" Grace asked desperately.

"I'm afraid your brother was right," the older man said with a sad twinkle in his eye. "You are too young."

"All right, sir," she said. She had expected that kind of response.

"What class do you have now?"

"Transfiguration."

"Tell Professor McGonagall you were speaking to me," Dumbledore said, walking her past the long house tables and out into the Entrance Hall. "She will excuse you."

"Thank you, sir," Grace said, and she slung her bag over her shoulder and hurried up the marble staircase.

She was pounding down the halls towards the classroom, when she tripped over something and slid down a corridor about two floors up from the Entrance halls. Grace landed on her stomach with a groan and started picking up her belongings from where they had been scattered all over the floor. Then –

"Trip Jinx, Potter," came a familiar, sneering voice.

Grace stood up, her stomach filled with cold dread at the sight of Draco Malfoy. He was all alone with no cronies to back him up; but then again – so was she.

"What did the old coot have to say to you, Potter?" he sneered. "Ashamed, are you? All those poor little muggles died so we could get our hands on you …"

He's lying, an inner voice told Grace as she stood her ground firmly. What he's saying doesn't make any sense. He's trying to get to you. Calm down. Relax. Just don't say anything

"You – you just stand there – you have no idea what it's like!" Malfoy shouted. He pursed his lips together, as though trying to hold back a furious tirade.

And then – he pushed her hard.

Grace gasped as her back hit the stone wall. Malfoy moved in closer, pushing her again.

"Because of you! He couldn't get to you, so – did you ever to think about what goes on on the other side?"

She was slammed into the wall one more time.

"Did you ever see him?"

Grace groaned as softly as she could, trying not to let the bully (for that's all Malfoy really was) see that she was in pain. Malfoy eased up, but didn't back away. He glared down at the younger student in disgust.

"Have you ever seen any of them?"

I don't know what you're talking about, Grace wanted to scream at him. Leave me alone! But she didn't. Grace slid to the floor, her knees pulled up to her chest to protect herself.

"You've never – you have no idea –"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Grace whispered breathlessly.

That was it: Malfoy grabbed both her wrists in one hand and twisted them around so they were held firmly and uncomfortably behind her back. He rolled her over so that her face was pressed into her knees.

"THEM!" he shouted. "You've never seen them! Coming home from every meeting all bruised and … and bloody because they've failed him. Never seen your own father stuck in bed for days afterwards. Never been told you can't see your own father because he's too proud to have his precious son see him in pain. Never!

"And you know why he's like that? Because you and your side keep getting away with everything."

Grace mumbled something into her knees.

"What's that?" snapped Malfoy, pulling a handful of her hair up so her face was lifted.

"Don't blame – He didn't need to … involved … his choice …"

He let go in disgust. "You don't understand! It doesn't work like that – you'd better hope I never see you again, Potter, it'll be worse next time!"

And he sent a kick towards her side and ran off.

Grace lay curled up in a ball on the floor for a long time. But there was no escaping anyone once the bell rang.

"Grace!"

It was Mark's voice. Grace heard him running over to her over everyone else's noise.

"You all right?"

"No."

"What happened?"

There was no response.

"Should I take you to the Hospital Wing?" Mark asked anxiously.

"Please," Grace replied, looking up at her friend – her friend!!! – for the first time. Many of the older students were staring at the two of them, a Slytherin boy helping a Hufflepuff girl up to the Hospital Wing.

Responses:

Miss Lady Padfoot: the last chapter was one of those "write-em-up, post-it-up" kind of things, if you know what I mean. I didn't want to include it with this chapter. It's a dream Grace had ... though you might be curious to know why Grace was having dreams about Voldemort, since she has no real connection to him.

Aelita-Fan-426: Happy belated birthday! Thanks for reviewing!

ERMonkey, Burner of Cookies: I know!!! I felt so bad, but really, Snape is such a nasty guy! Not to mention that Grace hasn't exactly been on her best behavior in his class.

A/N: I really will try to get the next chapter up a bit more quickly.