Updated:August 12006

Disclaimer: Again, anything familiar is not mine.

Chapter Twenty-two: What Dreams May Come…

The Easter Holidays were oh-too-short, with the final term of the year fast approaching. Unfortunately for Estella, the passing of one week had done little to dispel the level of notoriety she had reached within the school. On the first day of term, three quarters of the first years still wore black armbands in her honour, and the older students still went out of their way to smile at her as their paths crossed.

"Why do I feel as though I always have eyes on me?" whined Estella, being sure to keep her voice down. With exams a little over a month away, not even the library was proving to be a place of refuge… or maybe it was just her.

"That's because you do," said Reg nonchalantly, not looking up from his revision sheet. When he was done scribbling his sentence, he slapped his quill down, exhaled a breath, and flexed his fingers. Looking up, he shrugged. "You ought to be flattered… everyone in the school now knows what we've known since first year-"

"Oh yeah, and what's that?" said Elsie, looking up from her own book. The girl had hit a rough patch with her boyfriend, the pair spending increasing amounts of time apart.

"That you're clever, funny, imaginative…" said John, ticking off his fingers as he went; "…you know how to have fun, and where to draw the line…"

"… and don't forget 'cannot tell a lie'…" added Elsie helpfully. Estella shot her a reproachful look.

"Thank you, but I'd rather that last bit not become public knowledge," said Estella.

"Why not?" said John; "that's where the imagination kicks in, always giving you infinite possibilities to twist the truth…"

"Oh, gee, thanks… I think," said Estella, brows raised.

Just then, Fred and George Weasley came into view. Resting her forehead on the pages of the open book before her, Estella groaned. Seeing what they were looking for, the twins rushed over, smiles wide.

"Ah, there's our heroine-" said Fred

"Our successor-" said George

"Our inspiration," said Fred. "Hey, I daresay old chap that we ought to be writing all of this down – it'll go down a treat with the ladies-"

"Not that you're not a lady, dear Estella," George pointed out theatrically. "It's just to us, you're still a girl…"

"…not yet a woman," finished George, beginning to blush slightly. Turning to his brother, he frowned. "Merlin, Gred, how did we get on this subject?"

"I don't know, but let's change it!" said Fred hurriedly. Leaping atop a chair, he called for the attention of all the students at the study tables. "Who wants to hear a dramatic re-telling-"

"Of the glorious day that saw this school purged of an unseemly force?" said George, catching on fast and joining his brother on a neighbouring chair.

Interested, students began to abandon their books and mill around. After refusing point-blank to offer her testimony, the twins began to vividly depict the fateful evening just before Easter holidays. They each were taking turns of playing the roles of Estella and Umbridge, and were filling the holes in their story with outlandish embellishments. By the time they reached the end, the twins were dancing an impromptu victory jig on the table; an infectious foot-stamping ritual that quickly spread.

Roused by the sounds of dozens of feet stamping against the hard floor, hands clapping on desktops, and shoes tapping against chair legs, Madam Pince bustled into the study area.

"What is going on here?" she yelled.

Fred and George stood stock still, but were entirely sure of themselves.

"Oh, we were just doing a victory dance to celebrate the departure of our not-so-dear High Inquisitor, dear Madam Pince," said George.

"It's purging the library of the evil cloud of censorship and desecration that was left in her wake," said Fred. "Care to join us?"

Madam Pince straightened herself to her most authoritative stance, but there was a small smile playing on her lips. Ever since Peeves had alerted her to Umbridge's presence in the library, and the woman's intentions, the years-hardened librarian had developed a bit of a soft spot. It didn't matter to her that Peeves had only told her about Umbridge's proposed book burning because the scheming Poltergeist believed that no one should get away with it if he couldn't; the fact remained with her that even the troublesome patrons - the noisy ones who didn't like to read – were capable of good. Seeing the happiness and reverence in the eyes of the scores of still-innocent children around her, the librarian marked the day down in history as a day of firsts.

"Yes, well, just be sure to purge the school of her memory quietly," she said pointedly. Recovering some of her intimidating poise, she held her chin high and shot them all a trademark Pince glare. "This is still a library."

As the stiff, autocratic librarian disappeared down an aisle of her beloved books, the children began to look at each other in disbelief. Shrugging, the twins sported matching gleams in their eyes as they nodded and, simultaneously, charmed their shoes to make no sound. All too soon, the study area was full of students soundlessly stamping their feet and tip-toeing in the throes of a unpractised, uncoordinated dance. Those that could not contain their laughter were promptly silenced with a 'Silencio!' and pretty soon the entire area was full of red-faced children unable to let their laughter be heard.

When, then, Severus Snape walked into the library to find the unusually upbeat librarian humming happily and walking the aisles with a decided spring in her step, he simply assumed that the woman had just received a new shipment of books. When he traversed the library wing, needing to pass through the main study area on his way to the Restricted Section, nothing could have prepared him for what he was about to see. Happening upon the group of students, red-faced and sweaty with silent laugher and exertion, he stopped so suddenly that the inertia from his brisk pace had caused him to pitch forward, off-balance. He was just about to yell for the student's attention and address their conduct when he realised one of two things. One: why should he waste his time deducting house points and issuing detentions when it was Pince's responsibility. Two: Estella was amongst them, and she was happy.

Holding his head high, Severus Snape fixed his eyes on his destination and purposefully strode through the tables as though nothing were amiss. One by one, students in his direct path noticed his presence, and they stopped, but since they had all evidently silenced their mouths, none of them could issue a warning to their peers. When they noticed that the malevolent teacher had no intentions of paying any attention to their little soirée, they staggered back in bewilderment; history being made for the second time in less than an hour.

Estella, of course, had not missed the passage of her uncle through the main thoroughfare. It surprised her when the man passed on the opportunity to discipline she and her classmates, but rather than conclude that he was reluctant to ruin something that was making her happy – as she once would have – she began to think that perhaps the man was avoiding her. They had, indeed, not parted on very good terms before the beginning of the holidays, and had not spoken outside of a classroom setting since. His behaviour in class had been aloof and professional; their respective pride and stubbornness stopping either from taking the first step.

It wasn't until Estella could see Draco Malfoy follow her uncle into the Restricted Section several moments later, that she allowed her curiosity to get in the way of her enjoying the festivities around her. Making her way towards the row of shelves that separated the two areas, she spied on the pair through a gap in the books, but she was unable to hear what they were saying; most likely thanks to a privacy charm. Ducking out of view when her uncle turned to leave the library, Estella waited until she could be certain that the man had left before stepping forward and cutting off Draco's only exit.

"Care to tell me what that was about?" she tried to say, before realising that her voice was still under the Silencing Charm she had used on herself to stop her earlier laughter being heard. Waving her wand at herself, she non-verbally removed the spell, only absently paying mind to the younger students out in the main study area who would no doubt find out the hard way that it's not a good idea to use such charms on oneself when they haven't learnt non-verbal magic yet. Clearing her throat, she tried again.

"Care to tell me what that was about?"

"Why, are you spying on your uncle now?" said Draco testily. Whatever had transpired between the boy and her uncle, Estella decided, had evidently had an effect on the teenager.

"I was studying in the library with my friends, I couldn't help but see you," said Estella in her own defence. She craftily avoided answering Draco's question directly as she was, technically, using Kreacher to spy on her uncle.

"Studying?" said Draco incredulously, some of his dark mood slipping away.

"Oh that? We were just doing a victory dance to celebrate the, er, fact that Umbridge didn't get to burn all the books," said Estella, correcting herself mid-sentence as she remembered that a lot of the Slytherins – especially her Inquisitorial Squad - were actually disappointed to see the woman leave.

"Oh, well, yes, I suppose it's a good thing that those books were spared," said Draco conversationally, though his face looked as though he was sucking on a lemon.

"You're mad at me, aren't you? For ousting Umbridge… I mean, she did give you Slytherins the power you all crave so much…" said Estella knowingly.

Choosing his words very carefully, Draco's response was calculated and well thought-out.

"I miss the power, but I don't miss her," he confessed, stepping closer. "Had I known she was hurting you I would have gotten rid of her myself."

Simultaneously touched by his sentiment and equally disturbed by what the blond might have meant by 'getting rid' of someone, a horrifying thought came to Estella. What if she had read Draco all wrong and he wasn't being blindly misled by his father? What if Voldemort had given Draco an incentive by promising something he would never otherwise have – her. There were certainly spells and potions that could, in time, permanently imprint feelings of love and devotion upon a person, and it would certainly explain why there was still a bounty for her capture. Perhaps she had underestimated Draco's Slytherin tendencies; Devotion Potions would take hold so much more effectively if there existed no bad blood between the two parties – how could she have been so stupid? More pointedly, she realised, how come her uncle – a Potions Master for crying out loud – had not opened her eyes to this possibility? Was he in on it? No… that couldn't be right, he's always stood by what was best for her… but what if… NO!… her uncle had always warned her to stay away from him… maybe he assumed that she was aware of the risk...

"Are you all right?" said Draco in concern, a hand reaching up to run fingers across the spot in her arm where the fading handprint of Dolores Umbridge still lingered.

Taking a step back, Estella looked at Draco oddly, armed with all these extra pieces of the puzzle but blind to their placement. Alarmed, Draco jerked forward as though to stop her, but then pulled back. Stumbling over his words, he rushed to assure her.

"I'm keeping my promise, I am!" he said, and it took Estella a moment to digest just what he was talking about. "I am trying my hardest to keep him out of it, but they're getting impatient… and… and… you know how persistent your uncle can be! I can only keep him out of my mind so much!"

Seeing Draco struggle to keep a tenuous hold on his emotions, the boy looking as though he might actually start crying, Estella felt her heart be filled with regret. Draco Malfoy may be lost, he may be scared of failing in his task, but that didn't stop him for totally disregarding the lives of others when giving Katie Bell that necklace and Slughorn, the poisoned mead. He may have genuine feelings for her, conditioned into him since childhood though they may be, but if his being nice and considerate towards her was all a ruse to give him what he wanted regardless of her input, then she couldn't take the risk.

She couldn't fault him for being loyal to his family for she knew what she would choose if faced between a life without her father and following him into the depths of hell and depravity. Just because she couldn't see anyone loving Lucius Malfoy, lest of all so unconditionally, and she most certainly couldn't see Lucius himself with any kind of sentimentality in that stone cold heart of his at all, it didn't mean that a bond didn't exist between father and son. With that in mind, Estella realised that Draco Malfoy was, as her uncle had warned her, unable to be redeemed. Telling him her true allegiances and encouraging him to turn his back on both his father and the Dark Lord would be a dangerous folly indeed if the boy was so fixated on having her for himself that he would trust the Dark Lord to the task of 'persuading' her.

"I have to get back to my study," she said stiffly, ducking under Draco's outstretched arm and darting around him. "Good luck with your OWLs."

Not even stopping to collect her books, and completely ignoring her friend's attempts to get her attention, Estella fled from the library, infinitely counting her blessings when Draco did not attempt to follow. There was only one place she knew of at that moment that she could go and be guaranteed some peace, and she couldn't get to her housemaster's fireplace fast enough.

Following from the mass exodus of DA members via Fawkes and the Keep's transient Floo connection, the existence of the room Estella had been allocated to construct a broom for the Order was no longer a Ravenclaw myth. Thankfully, the commuting students passing through its walls had little opportunity to explore it and, incidentally, none of them could regain access no matter how hard they had tried.

Estella hadn't been lying when she had assured the DA that the fireplace was not connected to any Floo Network. Borrowing from the magic of the castle, transportation to and from the room was something of a cross between assisted Apparation, a Portkey and Floo travel all rolled into one. The Floo's flames were blue, not green, and while departure points were limited to the four fireplaces of the Hogwarts housemasters – and Fawkes, as Estella had come to realise – only people with permission could get into the room. For a long while, Estella had assumed that said assent had to come from Dumbledore, but she had recently come to accept that since assigning the room to her, she had effectively become the Keeper of the Keep.

Experimentally, she decided to revoke everyone else's ability to access the room, resetting it to allow only herself, Fawkes and any of Fawkes' passengers. She had been tempted – and pressed by her friends – to give her housemates a tour, for they had all heard the rumour of Rowena Ravenclaw's secret chamber and suspected the room's purpose straight away, but she resisted. As much as she liked spending time with her friends, she didn't want the Keep to become an exclusive congregation point. She knew that if the Keep were ever an option, her friends would choose it over the common room, library, or anywhere else in the castle just because they could, and Estella didn't want to set herself apart from the other students any more than she already was.

The Keep would, therefore, remain a place of quiet reflection and solitude; a place she could go to practice her piano, come to grips with her bond with Fawkes and write her Order reports. Her main assignment for the Order may be effectively over, but she still held the patents for the model's specific line of maintenance supply and it was important to keep her stock-pile replenished; so on that fact alone she knew that Dumbledore would not be taking the room away from her any time soon.

Nevertheless, it pained her to think that she was afforded a place of such privacy when no other student – bar the Head Boy and Girl – were given such luxuries, but she had to convince herself that her circumstances had warranted it. In an effort to make herself feel better, she did extend the Keep's invitation to one other; Harry. Like her, she realised that Harry needed a place to write his reports for the Order, and he had both his Pensieve sessions with Dumbledore and the security measures for Muggleborns in Hogsmeade to account for. The Boy-Who-Lived was also the only person, asides from Dumbledore, who now knew of her link to Fawkes, the boy astutely having raised questions after her utilisation of the bird to evacuate the DA members from the Room of Requirement at the end of the fall term. Everyone else had assumed that since Dumbledore knew of the group, he had sent Fawkes to help them, but thanks to his own sessions with the headmaster, Harry had suspected differently and cornered Estella about it over the holidays. While it was impractical to expect Harry to be able to use his housemaster's Floo whenever he wanted access, now that Estella knew she could call on Fawkes to get them around, she had even stopped going to the room via her uncle's and headmaster's fireplaces. There was just simply no more need for it, and if Dumbledore had a problem with the two teenagers calling upon Fawkes like a private taxi service, then he certainly hadn't said anything.

Ever since the explosive confrontation during the 'Occlumency lesson that wasn't', Estella had taken it upon herself to run through a few meditative exercises with Harry before they went to bed each night. Short of becoming a Legilimens, Estella had no way of testing if Harry's mind was truly cleared, but he'd been granted a reprieve from his dreams over the Easter break that they were together, and working on it, and so at her father's insistence they were keeping it up. Since it was entirely inappropriate for either of them to visit each other's dormitories just before they were about to go to sleep, Fawkes became instrumental in retrieving each teenager once the curtains around their respective beds were closed and bringing them together in the Keep for the nightly ritual. Having whittled the rest of her evening away expelling her frustration on the piano, Estella had truly lost all sense of time, leaping from the stool in shock when Fawkes arrived with Harry at their prescribed meeting time.

"Merlin, is it that time already?" said Estella, closing the lid of the piano and staring at her fingers, unable to fathom how she had been able to play for so long.

"I had Fawkes swing by the kitchens on my way up," said Harry, removing a small rucksack from his shoulder. "You skipped dinner, and I figured you may have forgotten to eat."

Estella's eyes lit up at the sight of food and she thanked the boy profusely.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't be eating now… you probably want to clear your mind and get to bed…" she said through a mouthful of roast lamb sandwich.

Harry toyed with the flask of Pumpkin Juice in his hand and averted his eyes.

"I was thinking of maybe not clearing my mind tonight," he said, "I mean, had I not had that vision before Christmas, Mr Weasley would have died, everyone said so… what if I could be saving more lives?"

Slowly setting down her sandwich, Estella sighed. "Harry, we've been through this – those fighting this war know what they are risking, and it's not your responsibility to protect them all. You need to concentrate on getting your sleep and doing well in your study so that you can be as prepared as possible-"

"But people are dying every night!" said Harry, "Innocent people! People who don't want any part in the war, who haven't asked for 'the risk'! I should be taking advantage of this connection I have, not keep trying to switch it off, damn it!"

"Harry, listen to yourself! Listen to what you're saying – if you want to take advantage of the link, what makes you so sure that Voldemort wouldn't try to do the same thing if you kept your mind open?" Estella was getting increasingly panicked now. "You must close your mind! The physical toll is reason enough… it's not just a matter of you being a martyr and punishing yourself in order to maybe save someone, you are risking permanent damage! Just look at the Longbottoms, Harry - "

"All right, all right," said Harry, raising his hands in defeat. "I'll clear my mind… but just so you know I don't need you to hold my hand, I can do it myself now I know what I am doing!"

"Harry, I don't even know what I am doing… not really," said Estella, rolling her eyes. "But fine, if you want to try it yourself, what are you doing, coming here every night?"

"Spending time with you," said Harry with a wry grin, tossing a dinner roll at her. "Though I hardly know why!"

"You're lucky I'm so hungry, otherwise you'd be needing a shower before bed!" growled Estella, throwing the dinner roll back at him anyway.

"Nah, you just don't want to have to clean up," said Harry, smirking. "Don't reckon this room would be on the house-elves rounds, do you?"

"I wouldn't be so sure about that, Harry, I'm sure there's a lot here that the house elves are privy to," said Estella.

With impeccable timing, a house-elf let itself be known, appearing before them with a determined 'crack!'.

"Kreacher," said Estella, barely looking up. Across from her, Harry was blinking in surprise and gaping at Estella, his jaw opening and closing like a fish. Ignoring this, Estella looked to the elf. "What do you have to report?"

"Mistress, Kreacher is watching Mistress' uncle like Mistress has asked," said Kreacher. "Kreacher is seeing Mistress' uncle looking for Mistress since dinner."

"Why have you only just come to me now?" said Estella, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Kreacher is not wishing to disturb Mistress if Mistress is wanting to be alone," said Kreacher, sending an accusatory look in Harry's direction. "Kreacher is coming to Mistress now because Kreacher is seeing Mistress' uncle seeking help in searching for Mistress."

"He's gone to Dumbledore?" said Estella. Kreacher nodded briskly. "Thank you, Kreacher, you may return to Grimmauld Place for now."

Kreacher bowed deeply and disappeared, but not before sneering at Harry. Estella thought over the elf's information for a moment, before reaching a course of action.

"Asphodel!" she summoned the Slytherin elf. While each house had a dedicated staff of house-elves, the elves were not specifically bound because it was hardly expected for students to know the names of elves in opposing houses. Even if a Gryffindor, say, were to know the name of an elf in its enemy's house, the elf would not particularly care for them and, thanks to binds of secrecy that did exist, could not divulge house secrets.

"Miss Black!" the elf promptly appeared and bowed, "Please accept Asphodel's apologies. Asphodel was ignorant of your identity in our last meeting!"

It occurred to Estella that Asphodel must have seen her uncle retrieve her from the Slytherin common room that night she had fallen asleep on the sofa, in Draco's arms. Dismissing the elf's apology with a wave of her hand, she continued with her plan.

"Good, you know who I am," she said, relieved. "I need for you to find an elf for me, and ask her a question…"

"What elf could Asphodel be finding that cannot possibly serve Miss Black directly?" said Asphodel, big eyes narrowing into slits, making the young elf look rather sinister and suspicious looking. "Miss Black is seeking Lena! But Lena is being bound to Master Snape's quarters!"

"I know that," said Estella, rolling her eyes. "That's why I can't call her, and why it is imperative that I find something out from her."

"But Miss Black, Lena is bound to Master Snape's quarters!" said Asphodel, as though to say 'you're his niece, go to his quarters and ask the elf yourself'. "Lena cannot answer to orders outside Master Snape's quarters-"

"Surely you elves converse amongst yourselves, though," said Estella sweetly. "Could you not ask her if Master Snape has been trying to Floo somewhere from his office? He may have tried to reach me here, and I need to know…"

Asphodel considered her request. Finally, the small elf spoke.

"Asphodel could be asking that question on Miss Black's behalf," said the elf, nodding once before vanishing from view.

"That elf… that elf was…" said Harry, lost for words. "Really Slytherin."

"Really?" said Estella, rolling her eyes. Harry frowned.

"You're having your uncle followed?" he asked quietly. "You still haven't resolved things from last term, have you?"

"I've had Kreacher on my uncle's case for longer than that," said Estella tiredly. "I'm worried about him… mad too, but he's still my uncle."

"Want to talk about it?"

Estella spent the time whilst waiting for word from Asphodel confiding her fears about Draco and Severus' motives with the attentive Gryffindor. She left out the details about Draco's task, for she didn't want Harry to thrust himself in the middle of it and get himself killed, but most everything else she shared with him.

"What if he is on their side, and that all of this posturing all this time has just been for my benefit? What if he really thinks that what he's doing is 'best for me'?" said Estella. "Am I a bad niece for doubting him?"

"I'm not the person you should be asking about this," said Harry maturely. "You know my feelings towards the man."

"Yes, and what if you're on to something?" said Estella. "What if you're actually right?"

"It'd be a first?" Harry drawled, trying to use humour to throw the conversation off course. He may have his reservations about the man, but he would have had to have been blind to not see how much Estella cared for her uncle – he didn't want to be responsible for changing that.

"Maybe he's right," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe this war is screwing with our perception…"

"Yes, but he's the adult. Let him come to you," said Harry, remembering what Sirius had said. "You're too forgiving – don't sell yourself short."

Remembering the crushing feeling of hurt she had felt when her uncle had jumped to his conclusions and accused her of turning out like something he so despised, Estella recovered her resolve and nodded.

As it turned out, they needn't have sent Asphodel out to investigate whether or not Lena had seen Severus trying to access the Keep via his Floo. The pair were making short work of a small chocolate pudding when Fawkes flamed into view, a long-bearded wizard in his company.

"Merlin, I am going to conjure a train whistle," said Estella in exasperation. "This place is getting more traffic than King's Cross on the first of September!"

Dumbledore took in the sight of the two teenagers casually tucking into a late-night dessert. They put down their spoons when they noticed that he was actually looking rather foreboding.

"Your absence has sparked quite a bit of hysteria amongst the staff," said Dumbledore, a familiar glint of bemusement fighting through the mix of concern and relief in his eyes. "Estella, when your uncle could not access the Keep via his fireplace, he tore through Gryffindor Tower in search of answers…" at this he looked at Harry.

Two sets of eyes flew wide in surprise: this was news.

"Why?" said Estella insolently. "Surely he has the deductive ability to know that I was here."

"I don't think he was concerned for your location as he was worried about your state," said Dumbledore. "He was rather insistent upon accompanying me, but… well… I didn't think you would appreciate it."

"Thankyou for the consideration, Headmaster," said Estella, returning her attention to her pudding as though they were having a casual conversation. "You were right. I don't want to see him. If he couldn't get that message from his Floo restriction alone, then feel free to pass on the message."

"Ah yes, about that," said Dumbledore, turning around behind him in search of a chair and, without hesitation, settling on a bright orange faux fur bean chair that seemed to embrace its occupant like a giant glove. "Your uncle was rather concerned when no adult could secure access to this room whilst both you and Harry appeared to be absconded within."

Harry was slower on the uptake than Estella, but she forgave him for the older Gryffindor boy did not know her uncle as well as she. She spat a mouthful of chocolate pudding across the room, cringing in embarrassment when flecks of it soiled Dumbledore's beard, causing the man to wordlessly remove it with a wave of his wand.

"You have got to be kidding me!" she spluttered, reaching for the flask of Pumpkin Juice to wash down her food.

"Wait…" said Harry, catching on. "He… he… headmaster, did you…"

The Headmaster had the good graces to look sheepish.

"You must admit, that your conduct would raise eyebrows," said Dumbledore. "Sealing off access to this room, the pair of your disappearing after curfew, in what your dormitory fellows have admitted is a nightly occurence… just because you are not actively thinking of such things, it does not dispel the fact that you are at the age-"

Estella buried her face in her hands and groaned. She could not believe that she was talking about such things with her headmaster – she couldn't even say the word – and she was mortified that the adults would take her actions and read them in such a way. The headmaster pressed on with his interrogation.

"It had been noted that your respective relationships had reverted back to friendships," explained Dumbledore apologetically. "I'm afraid, however, that I still must insist on knowing what you are doing here. The Keep was not entrusted upon you to be exploited in this way; irrespective of the nature of your purpose here, you are in breach of school rules and I must act now as your headmaster."

"But Professor Dumbledore," said Harry with a frown. "Didn't you ask Sirius to explain what sort of relationship we have? Not only could he have cleared things up, but he actually knows what we do here every night-"

"Yes, but you know what Dad's like," said Estella seethingly. "He'd have leapt at the opportunity to bait my uncle; feed his suspicions - am I close, Headmaster?"

"He was quite pleased by the suggestion," admitted Dumbledore. "I was henceforth inclined to believe it were true... Harry, you said your godfather knows of your meetings here with Estella?"

Harry nodded.

"That joke is getting so old," said Estella with a scowl. "Headmaster, I can forgive you for believing the worst, but my uncle knows better than to believe anything my father has to say to him.My bet is that he couldn't get what he wanted, so rather than accept that I want him to leave me alone, he deliberately perpetuated this rumour that Harry and I are…" she pulled a face "…together in order to get you to intervene!

"Estella, you must not be so hard on your uncle," said Dumbledore patiently. "What he had were valid concerns. Though I am sure that as your uncle he would invariably accept any choice of suitor you make in the future, it is his duty as a teacher to report any suspicions of students, ah, partaking in each other's company on school grounds."

Partaking in each other's company. Estella didn't even want to think about what the headmaster obviously meant by that, let alone consider that it was what they suspected she was up to. She shuddered in embarrassment, her residual derision towards her uncle getting her back on track.

"Oh yes," she said to the headmaster, shaking her head in disgust. "I'm sure he had valid concerns… now let me tell you one of my valid concerns and why it directly led to this situation. Or better yet, Harry, why don't you tell the headmaster why we've been coming here every night since we got back from holidays?"

"My last Occlumency lesson, sir," said Harry quietly, "at the end of term… Snape refused to teach me again. Estella's been helping me clear my mind every night since… I brought her food tonight because she skipped dinner."

"Why was I not informed of this?" said Dumbledore quietly, all pretences of a twinkle gone. For the first time, Estella noticed that, for perhaps the first time, the old man had embarked upon a discussion with them and had yet to offer them a Lemon Drop.

"We knew that you'd bite my uncle's head off and force him to keep teaching Harry," said Estella. Dumbledore nodded reluctantly, but before the man could speak, she cut in. "You can say and do what you like, headmaster, but Harry's not having another lesson with him."

"No, I'm not," said Harry, sitting up a little straighter in his chair, a determined look set on his face. "Estella's been helping me plenty, I've not had any dreams or visions since she started walking me through the process each night."

"It's true, Headmaster," said Estella, nodding. "I may not be able to try and enter his mind myself, because I am no Legilimens, but you cannot deny that he's looking much more rested, despite going to bed a little later."

Dumbledore looked between the two determined teens, experience telling him that he was not going to sway them any differently. Extricating himself from his low chair with the help of a little spell that effectively pushed him upright, he ironed out the wrinkles in his robes and looked down at them decisively.

"Very well, I shall inform the relevant parties of your purpose here," he said. "I apologise to you, Estella, for ever suspecting that you would ever abuse the function of this room in such a way. I do not expect you to re-open the fireplace to your uncle, for the time being, but I will request that you send word to me when you intend to be here for periods at a time, so that I may be better informed when others come looking for you."

"Of course, Headmaster," said Estella, rising to see the Headmaster off. "Thank you for your discretion."

Placing his good hand on Estella's shoulder, Dumbledore regarded the small girl with a weary look and sighed.

"Child, whatever has transpired between yourself and your uncle, resolve it. Soon," he said. "Your uncle needs your assurances more than he will ever care to admit."

Estella knotted her brow and folded her arms across her chest obstinately. "He's the adult, he can make the first move!"

The Headmaster stood back to leave, Fawkes appearing on his shoulder. He looked down at her sadly.

"That," he said tiredly. "Is the first time I've seen you act your age… very well… I will let your uncle know."

Turning back to Harry as the Headmaster flashed away from view, she slumped her shoulders and flopped down on the chair next to Harry dejectedly.

"Why do I get the feeling that I've just disappointed him somehow?" she said.

"Because everyone's always expected so much from you, and you've always acted so older, that they don't know how to react when you draw the line?" said Harry helpfully, leaning in so their shoulders and heads could rest against each other. He knew all too well how Estella felt at that moment.

"Is it so bad for me to act my age once and a while?" she scowled. "No matter what I've seen and done, I'm still only fourteen. I ought to be entitled to act like a bloody fourteen year old whenever I damn well want!"

Harry didn't need to say anything, his presence alone enough of a reassurance. They sat together in contemplative silence, both invariably wishing that things could just be normal for the two of them. Neither teenager was aware of the point when they fell asleep.


When they had awoken the next day, they found themselves wrapped up in a green Slytherin blanket. Harry's reaction had been priceless, and as much as Estella tried to explain that Asphodel had likely returned while they were asleep and not wanted to disturb them, the dye-in-the-wool Gryffindor could not get over the horror of what might happen if anyone found out. Bored with not having Operation Umbridge to amuse her, Estella had decided to jinx Harry's glasses to show green and silver where there was really scarlet and gold.

When the confused teen had gone to sit with the Slytherins and nearly gotten his head hexed off, she was quick to remove the jinx, vowing to never again stoop to using Marauder methods to amuse herself. Since Harry never asked if she had done it, and she was not about to volunteer the information, she was rewarded with ongoing amusement as the slighted teen spent their evening moments together obsessing over it and making wild speculations as to the culprit, completely oblivious that said culprit was right beside him. It was, Estella supposed, lying by omission, and she felt a niggling feeling of guilt for deceiving him by her silence, but she wasn't stupid. With Harry confiding in her his various plans to avenge the innocent little jinx, she had more than enough incentive to keep her mouth shut; and frankly, she was rather surprised that he had not been able to figure out it was her in the first place.

That was, until, she woke up to find herself looking like a fourteen-year-old, female version of her uncle. After a few brief moments of panic – how on earth did her uncle not bump into things with that nose of his constantly blocking his view? – she caught on that none of her dorm mates were looking at her any differently, except maybe to ask why she looked so spooked. Harry had evidently slipped her something or hexed her just before they said their goodnights the night before, having known all along it had been her to jinx his glasses. Suddenly, she felt like such a fool for not taking the opportunity to confess, realising only too late that Harry was probably waiting to see if she would… either that or it had taken him some time to figure out how to alter her perception in kind.

While the impact of physically resembling her uncle brought back memories of primary school, back when she had been unfairly targeted by her peers and bullied for having a different home life, she could only be grateful that Harry had restricted limited the glamour for her eyes only. As much as she loved her uncle, the thought of looking like him in front of all her classmates was the thing of nightmares, and she knew that if that were to happen, things between herself and Harry would be irreparably damaged. Therefore, she took the retribution on the chin, full of respect and admiration for Harry for having the decency to respond to her trick in kind, and not out-play her. Harry's aversion of all things Slytherin was probably on par with her fear of being avoided and typecast as a 'mini-greasy-git'.

It just turned out to be an unfortunate casualty of timing that the life of Estella's perception-altering-hex had coincided with an emergency meeting for the Order of the Phoenix. Harry had chosen that day to use some of his Felix Felicis to complete his mission for Dumbledore, and his report could not wait. And since Estella had been avoiding her uncle ever since Easter, she was not particularly looking forward to sitting opposite the man in a meeting whilst her perception was so that she looked like him.

Taking that dreaded seat, however, Estella was unprepared for what she'd see when she looked over at her uncle. There, in place of his greasy hair and crooked nose, was an older, masculine version of her own face! Between the peals of giggles that could not help to follow, Estella found that she was mildly disturbed by the revelation that her features looked better on her uncle's face than they did on her own; he was actually quite handsome. It was either a case of her aristocratic lines being better suited on a male's face than a girl's – as in deed she favoured her father as equally to her mother, and he was considered to be rather handsome in his day – or anything on her uncle's face that was not his own was to be considered a vast improvement.

Needless to say, the surrounding Order members were rather surprised by her outburst, and remained completely oblivious as to its cause. Tears of mirth leaking out of her eyes, Estella found Harry looking at her smugly, nodding slightly as his eyes shifted between the two relatives. It occurred to Estella then, that perhaps Harry had not so much jinxed her to poke fun at her as he did to encourage her to talk to her uncle. For as much as Harry disliked the man, he respected the fact that Severus and Estella had a special bond; and after being rejected by his own aunt and uncle, he was rather insistent on seeing healthier relationships preserved. Guessing that her perception was entirely one-sided (for she doubted Harry would be so brazen as to attempt to mess with her uncle's self-image and expect to live to tell the tale) she decided that whether or not Harry had intended for her to be a little more good-humoured in her uncle's presence, his stunt had certainly pushed any nagging tension and uncertainty she felt when in his proximity.

For weeks now, she had been sitting in the back of his classes, acting unhelpful when he called upon her in class and then leaving straight afterwards. She had stopped attending their unofficial tutoring sessions, skived the detentions he tried to set, and ignored his summons. Dumbledore had pulled her aside and questioned her on it, but since her uncle could not fairly detail any school-related reason for the detentions he set as her teacher, the Headmaster could not insist that she serve them, only encourage her to hear the man out. Far from still being actively mad at the man for thinking so poorly of her – firstly when he had concluded that she had wanted all the attention that being attached to Umbridge's dismissal had given her, secondly when he had thought that she actually enjoyed invading his private memory with Harry and, finally, when he had actually thought to suggest to the headmaster that she and Harry were up to something lewd in the Keep because he could not get in – Estella could no longer remember what was so important about her decision to be mad in the first place.

She could only suppose, in some sense, that she wanted to test the lengths that her uncle was willing to go to for her… to make him try harder. Her father and Harry had been right in saying that she was far too accommodating – it was something that came with having such a logical and rational mind. Deep down she knew that she was being slightly unfair to her uncle as, due to security concerns, he could not well write anything down on paper like a parent or family member estranged from a loved one may be inclined to do. Even if the utmost security could be assured, she knew from experience that her uncle was instinctively reluctant to articulate himself on paper. But then unlike other people's families, he got to see her everyday. When his detentions and summons did not bring her to him, he could have sought her out. He could have pulled her out of the library that day earlier in the term, and on any number of occasions in the Great Hall he could have requested an audience with her after the meal.

Now that she couldn't keep a straight face when looking at him, she realised that it was foolish of her to keep holding out, waiting for her uncle to 'make an effort'. They were in the middle of a war and anything could happen to either of them at any time; coming to that stark realisation, Estella didn't even want to consider the regret she'd have felt had she kept holding out.

"I'm sorry," she said, looking at her uncle, but also apologising to the rest of the Order for disrupting the proceedings. No sooner had the words left her mouth, did her uncle's face return to its usual self and, turning her eyes inwards to stare at the end of her considerably smaller nose, she confirmed that her perception of self was back on track. Her head turning to Harry so fast that the muscles in her neck protested, she promptly shot him a dirty look and scowled. Heaven knows how long it would have taken her to figure out what she needed to do to see her own face again had they not had the unscheduled meeting! "Were you even going to tell me?"

The strange looks the Order members had been reserving for her now spread to Harry, who bowed his head and muttered an apology in the headmaster's direction. The old man, in turn, looked carefully at each teenager, an infernal knowing look in his eye. Discerning that all outbursts and non-Order-related tangents were exhausted, he smiled and cleared his throat.

"I have some very encouraging news," he said, before helping Harry detail the purpose of their regular meetings and visits into the Pensieve.

As details of Harry's strength over Voldemort and the ongoing pursuit for the Horcruxes sunk in, the Order members were all weighed down with the gravity of their responsibility. The battle ahead was only just beginning…


"Pretty intense stuff, huh?" said Harry, settling down in his favoured bean bag in the Keep and rubbing at his scar subconsciously; as he was prone to do whenever they were discussing the war. Neither teenager had felt particularly up to staying at Grimmauld Place with all of the Order members, even though it was a weekend and under normal circumstances they would have taken advantage of the time away. The hope and confidence had been sapped out of the Order… no one actually having said so, but the feeling hanging like a dark cloud over everyone's heads nevertheless. It was only a temporary blow to their armour, that much even the teenagers could see, for news – good or bad – had habitually requested a period of adjustment. Once the news had properly sunk in and they'd all had time to plot a course of action the old, familiar sense of security, confidence and hope would return… it always did. Until that time, however, the teenagers could not leave headquarters fast enough.

"Understatement, much," said Estella, distracted as she flicked through a CD rack by the Muggle stereo that was charmed to broadcast her music around the room. Choosing a title that always seemed to help them clear their mind the fastest – for music was always a main part of their nightly meditative practices – Estella tapped the empty case on her chin whilst she as waiting for the disc to load and titled her head at Harry in consideration. "Hey, I reckon we should bring our instruments here during the term," she said, referring to the charmed karaoke instruments that her father had gotten them as a joint gift. "It's not fair that the adults get to have all the fun during term… this would be an ideal place to jam, hey?"

"Yeah," agreed Harry absently, his mind elsewhere. "We should definitely bring them back with us after summer."

"Yeah, but let's not tell Padfoot, else he's likely to get you your own set for your birthday under the pretence of being able to keep one at home for himself!" she said, tossing the CD case aside and diving over the edge of a lounge, making herself comfortable now that the music was playing. Looking over to Harry to see if he was ready to begin, she stopped adjusting the cushions around her. Silencing the stereo with an effortless wave of her wand, she narrowed her eyes at the older boy. "All right, what's up? I'm not going to start this until you get whatever it is off your chest."

"When will you speak to your uncle?" Harry blurted.

"Tomorrow," she rolled her eyes, crossing her legs into the lotus position and straightening up. "When will you speak to Ginny?"

Harry began to splutter.

"Don't turn this on me!" he said indignantly. "Somehow I think resolving things with a family member is more important than me declaring my feelings for Ginny."

"Got you! Aha!" said Estella, pointing at him triumphantly. "So you do have feelings for Ginny!"

Harry swore. He'd walked right into that one. Estella had been silently observing Harry around the redheaded girl ever since things between he and Cho had cooled off just after Christmas. Ginny, meanwhile, seemed more than well aware of Harry's newfound availability, and Estella hadn't been blind to the girl's subtle overtures. And much to her relief, she did not feel any sort of derision or jealousy towards the red-headed girl. It wasn't that Estella would consider herself one of Ginny's friends, but just because their social circles never really crossed paths, it didn't mean that she didn't like the girl. When Estella was being entirely honest with herself, she could see Ginny and Harry being good together. Besides from the aesthetic coincidence of it being like a James and Lily all over again – so far as looks went – Harry and the Weasleys went back a long way, and Ginny was one of few girls who would truly be open to who Harry was as a person, not just what he represented as the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry needed someone he could trust, and it was an added bonus that Ginny's family already considered him a seventh son.

"You're not going to bite my head off?" said Harry in surprise, knowing there would be no point in denying it. "Tell me that I'm crazy to go after my best friend's sister?"

"Well… when you put it that way…" said Estella teasingly, hastening to reassure Harry that the Weasley boys would have to want Ginny to be a nun if they thought he wasn't good enough for their sister.

"So… so you're really okay with it?" said Harry.

It occurred to Estella that perhaps Harry felt he needed her approval before he could go on. She had, after all, been more-or-less right about Cho. At the prospect of having her opinion so genuinely valued and respected, her heart soared, and she smiled. Searching deep inside herself to truly consider whether or not she was okay with Harry's choice, she realised that the lingering feelings of doubt that had come with not knowing how she herself felt about Harry were gone. Did she love Harry? Yes, she did… unconditionally. She would walk the ends of the earth for him and endanger her life to stand by him in the battle that loomed ahead. That's what family did for each other – and Harry was her brother in every sense of the word.

"Why wouldn't I be okay with it?" said Estella.

"Well," said Harry awkwardly. "I noticed you had stopped pursuing things with John, and I thought that maybe you-"

"Wanted a go at you?" Estella made a face, reminded of the time when her uncle seemed to believe that she and Harry were off 'having a go' at each other. She shook her head vehemently. "What happened between John and I has nothing to do with you. I just don't feel ready for that kind of relationship… so much else is going on."

"Right," said Harry in consideration. "So maybe I shouldn't say anything to Ginny, huh…"

"You do what's right for you," Estella shrugged. "Just because I can't seem to fit it in, doesn't mean you can't. I mean, you're the Boy-Who-Lived, you're supposed to be an exception."

Sticking his tongue out at the teasing girl, he readdressed his earlier question.

"You still haven't told me when you're going to really fix things up with your uncle," he said.

"Unlike some people, my uncle doesn't require so many words. He got my meaning when I apologised at the meeting, and anything else that needs to be said between us can wait until we've both had a chance to absorb what's been revealed at the meeting." said Estella, shrugging. "Now come on, out with it, I know my uncle and Ginny are not the only things on your mind… mmm… that didn't come out too well, did it?"

Mortified, Harry blanched and threw a cushion at her. Hard. He wasn't even going to dignify the statement with an answer, and so instead moved right along.

"Well, I was just thinking, that with most all the Order accounted for, and no one really having much idea on what, exactly, Voldemort is up to…" said Harry, smoothing his fringe over his forehead compulsively. "Maybe tonight's a good night to not clear my mind?"

"Why are you even asking me?" said Estella resignedly, all previous light-heartedness and humour issuing from her like a Quaffle in the path of a sharp pointy object. She could tell that the determined Gryffindor had already talked himself into it, and told him accordingly. "You've already made up your mind and will do it no matter what I say, I'll bet. You already know how I feel about it, and its something that's not going to be swayed no matter how you try to justify it."

"So you still think it's a bad idea?" Harry frowned.

"I will always consider it a very bad idea," Estella emphasised. "But you do what you think is right. I trust you…"

"Will you stay with me, in here?" said Harry, looking at her pleadingly. "Just in case?"

"Harry, if you hadn't asked, I would have insisted," said Estella with a wry grin. "Let me state for the record that while I may not like this, I would never not stand by you. Do you really suppose that I would get any sleep in my dorm, knowing that your mind is open to whatever Voldemort may care to subject you to? He'd torture one of his own minions to death just to have you feel it."

"Nice try, Estella, but that's not going to scare me out of it," said Harry, tossing a pillow at her.

"Damn," said Estella, scowling as her ruse was blown wide open. Considering pleading with the boy to reconsider, she opened her mouth a few times to speak. "Harry…"

"I'm doing it, Estella," said Harry firmly. "I need to do this… just wake me up if you get worried, ok? I promise you that I will never do it without you… does that help?"

"No, it just confirms my fate as an insomniac," said Estella agitatedly. "Like I'm going to risk sleeping through an attack on your mind now!" she got up grumpily and moved over towards the piano. "D'you mind if I play, or will that keep you up?"

Harry stood and stilled her hand as she went to raise the lid of the piano.

"We don't have to do this. If it's making you uncomfortable…" he said.

"No," said Estella, pinching the bridge of her nose in annoyance. "Even if you gave me your word that you would clear your mind for my sake, I'll not be able to sleep. It's strange… I mean I would trust you with my life without hesitation, but I guess I just can't trust you not to give in to your curiosity. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," said Harry, looking away. "You're probably right… keeping my mind closed has been driving me mad with curiosity…"

"I know," said Estella, exhaling sharply. "As much as I don't want you to, it's something you feel you need to do. It's not my place to stand in your way… and I'll stand by you. I may not be happy about it, and you'll be wanting to keep a wide berth in the morning, but I'll have your back. Besides, like you said, with me here to wake you up, what's the worst that could happen?"

In two words: a lot; but neither teenager was to know that at the time.


When Estella next awoke she was straddling the long piano bench, her feet hooked around the stool's legs on one end, and her fingers brushing the clawed feet of the chair's legs on the other. She was stretched out on her stomach, with her neck turned away from the silent ivories slightly overhead. Drool welled in the studded leather under her cheek, and at first she thought that the moisture had been what had woken her, but then she heard it again.

"SIRIUS! NO!" Harry was thrashing around wildly on the piles of floor cushions he'd fashioned into a bed. His voice was hoarse with overuse, which suggested that he'd been screaming for quite some time…

Quick as a flash, Estella shot up off the stool she'd lost her guard on, seeing stars as the left side of her head and shoulder came into brutal contact with the unforgiving underside of the piano. Dazed, she leant away from the source and fell back onto the stool, the way in which she landed on the narrow bench causing the legs to rock and tumble. Inhaling sharply as she felt the bench give way under her, she braced herself for impact and was winded as her right arm hit the floor first, sending an elbow into her ribs.

Catching her breath, Estella swore and groaned. Across the room, Harry was still crying out for her father, and it terrified her to think of what his unguarded mind was seeing through Voldemort's mind at that time. Driven by her concern, she pulled herself up onto all fours, closing her eyes against the dizziness which she hoped did not signify a concussion. Taking a deep breath and swallowing back the wave of nausea that turned her stomach inside out, she blocked the pain in the left side of her head aside and concentrated on making it to Harry.

By the time she reached his side, the boy was awake and sitting upright, his hair matted to his head with sweat as he fumbled around wildly for his glasses. Upon realising where he was and who he was with, he grabbed Estella's shoulders and shook, urgent tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.

"He's got Sirius!" he said, moments away from a full-blown panic attack. "They're in the Department of Mysteries!"

Overwhelmed by the persistent throbbing in the back of her head, Estella took a little longer than usual to take in Harry's words. Then, pulling both herself and Harry to their feet, she headed towards a makeshift potions lab in the corner. While Harry had fallen asleep halfway through the Sonata she had elected to play, Estella still hadn't been tired. Endeavouring to stay awake all night, she'd taken the initiative of raiding the small supply of potions ingredients she had left over from having brewed many experimental broom polishes in the room, and preparing a few essential potions in case Harry could feel the effects of any curses Voldemort used while their minds were open to each other.

Setting aside two vials of Pepper-Up, which were already on hand since Benson had drunk the stuff like water when they were working non-stop over some weekends, she then ladled a dose of the post-Cruciatus potion that was still cooling in its cauldron. Looking at Harry carefully, she hesitated before handing the warm vial over.

"Did you feel a Crucio?" she said. When Harry was unable to bring himself to respond – no doubt the teen was reliving what he had just seen – she thrust the vial in his hand anyway. "Drink."

"Drink?" said Harry dumbly, staring down at the potion. "VOLDEMORT HAS YOUR DAD AND YOU WANT TO STOP AND DRINK?"

Hearing Harry say it again was enough to make Estella's blood run cold, and she found her sense of rationality giving way to sheer, unadulterated panic. Downing her dose of Pepper-Up, feeling slightly more alert once its medicinal agents chased her fatigue away, she slammed her vial down angrily.

"Don't you think I know that?" she said in a deadly calm voice. "But we're no use to anyone like this!"

Watching Harry drink his potion dutifully, replacing the empty vial in his hand with the dose of Pepper-Up she had left for him, she turned and fossicked around for a Headache Potion. Seeing the back of her head, Harry swore.

"Your head's bleeding!" he exclaimed.

"Really?" said Estella, half in surprise, half in sarcasm. "That would explain why my head hurts so bloody much then! Remind me when this is over to not to fall asleep on a piano stool again will you?"

"You can't take a Headache Potion," said Harry suddenly, stilling her arm in alarm. "You've just had a Pepper-Up and might have a concussion…"

Irritably, Estella knew he was right, but if it meant getting rid of the throbbing pain, she was willing to sacrifice a little of her alertness. It wasn't as though she could be particularly on the mark with her head pounding so much. Choosing the decided lesser of the two evils, she wrenched her hand out of Harry's grip and drank the Headache Potion.

"It's the better of the two, trust me," said Estella, touching the back of her head gingerly to try and determine if she would need to try and bandage it or not. Head wounds bled like geysers, but maybe if she was lucky her hair would help the wound to scab over quickly. "Now tell me what you saw."

Skipping the more vivid details, Harry got the bare facts across in a matter of seconds. Before he had even finished his description, Estella had her mirror in her hand, intent on confirming whether or not the vision was true. On her second call, an unexpected face appeared in the reflective glass.

"Kreacher?" she said, unable to contain her surprise. Sharing a hold on the mirror's weathered wooden frame, Harry craned his neck to see into the reflection, but said nothing. Estella was immediately on alert. "Kreacher, what are you doing with Dad's mirror?"

"Mistress!" Kreacher said, almost dropping his end of the mirror in shock. "Mistress wants to know what Kreacher is doing with Master's mirror! Kreacher is cleaning Master's mirror."

Estella's eyes narrowed in suspicion. The day after her uncle had tried to access the Keep whilst she was in it, she had sent Kreacher back to Grimmauld Place because she had, at the time, reached the point where she had no longer cared enough about what her uncle was doing in order to justify a spy. The elf hadn't been happy with the 'demotion' and, in thinking he had failed his mission, locked himself in the attic and injured himself to the point where injuries were still visible.

"Kreacher, I know for a fact that my father is never without his mirror, and that he would sure as hell never let you clean it," said Estella, fighting to keep the hysteria out of her voice.

"Kreacher isn't telling Mistress that Kreacher is having Master's permission," said Kreacher, with a malevolent smile. "Kreacher is waiting for Mistress to call."

Clinging to the hope that the elf had filched the mirror from under her father's nose because he wanted to speak to his mistress, Estella gripped the edges of the frame.

"Kreacher, this is very important," said Estella slowly. "I need for you to give the mirror back to my Dad."

"Kreacher cannot do that, Mistress," said Kreacher just as slowly.

Harry made a strangled noise, but knew to stay out of the elf's line of sight, lest they lose even more precious time with trying to get around the bad-mannered elf's tirade of insults. Beside him, Estella gasped.

"Why not?" she said in a choked voice. "Is he not in the house?"

"Master is not in the house," said Kreacher.

Estella put down the mirror and looked at Harry, mirroring his look of dread.

"He said he was going to stay at headquarters," she stated numbly. Her voice becoming a little louder and hysterical, she began to cry. "He said he was going to stay at headquarters. Didn't he say he was going to stay there?"

"He could have changed his mind," said Harry hopefully. "Maybe he went home…"

"But he wouldn't leave without his mirror!" she said in alarm.

"Is there any way of contacting him at home?" said Harry, running sweating palms over the thighs of his trousers. "Just to make sure?"

"No, damn it! He's supposed to have the mirror on him always! The Floo at the house is only connected to headquarters now – he cut off the connection to Hogwarts after Umbridge almost caught him in the fire that night," she began to pull at her hair in desperation. "We have the telephone, but Hogwarts isn't exactly hooked up… argh!"

"What about Moony?" said Harry, gesturing towards the mirror. "He should have his-"

"But he's going back undercover tonight," said Estella with a frown. "Even if he was able to take the call, he wouldn't be able to extract himself from the situation and be of any immediate help. Dad wouldn't be without his mirror unless something was keeping him from it-"

"We just… we just have to assume the worst, then…" said Harry grimly, a solemn look on his face. He swallowed heavily. "Even if it is a trap, we can't not go. Not when we're not sure…"

"Right, then we need to tell someone here…" said Estella, only to realise that Dumbledore had yet to return to the school and that if they told her uncle he'd never let them leave. Telling another teacher was a possibility, but then no teacher would let them go, Order members or no. "Or maybe we can just leave a note."

"A note," said Harry dubiously.

"Yeah. We'll go to headquarters to get the Order… Fawkes will take us…" said Estella. As if on cue, Fawkes appeared. "Better yet, Fawkes can take us directly home!"

Shaking his head, Harry refused to touch the old bird. "We could be heading directly into a trap there! We need to tell the Order-"

"That will take too long!" Estella said, frowning as the logistics began to settle in her mind. "Waking everyone up, explaining the same thing over and over… and then have them want to verify 110 if the vision was true or not…" she let out a shaky breath.

"You're right," said Harry, paling. "That will take too long! You didn't see what they were doing to him… Merlin, Estella, we have to act fast."

"I know," said Estella, chewing on her bottom lip so hard it bled. "But Harry… we can't take them on by ourselves…"

"I'm not saying that!" said Harry. "The DA! Fawkes can pull them right from their beds and bring them here – he's as much as done that before with us at the beginning of those Order meetings. We can explain everything just once – those that don't want to go can raise the alarm here once we're gone – and then Fawkes can take us straight in!"

"Fawkes doesn't have infinite sources of energy," she said, casting a sympathetic look at the bird who was only a few days shy of a Burning Day. "There's no way he's going to be able to pluck thirty odd people from their beds, bring them here, then take us all to London. We need to limit this to people who can fight well, and who are most likely to agree to come in the first place." Harry nodded, and Estella turned to the bird. "Start with our friends, and then anyone else you think who will come. Bring only as many as you feel you can orb the distance with."

The bird shrilled softly and disappeared. Harry frowned.

"How is Fawkes going to know who our friends are and who is best in the DA?" he said.

"Because he's been spying on most of our lessons since the beginning of the year and I've told him as much, that's why," said Estella, having to take the moment to sit down and place her head between her knees for a moment, the bang on her head and anxiety causing the room to spin. Her voice muffled as it was directed at the floor, she began to sob. "Merlin, Harry, I don't know if I can do this! Why did I have to hit my bloody head? My Dad's in trouble and I… I can't… I'm not thinking straight."

"It's the potion," said Harry, sitting down beside her and rubbing her back, "I told you it would affect you!"

"One day I will ask you to tell me how you know that," said Estella absently, raising her head slowly and concentrating on sucking in big lung-fulls of air. "Taking the potion couldn't be helped – I would have been worse off with my head pounding like that."

Their conversation as broken by the arrival of several key people in the pair's lives. Ron, Hermione and Ginny represented Harry's friends, with Reg and John counting for Estella's. Harry was surprised to not see Elsie there, but then again Elsie had never been particularly strong in Defence, even after joining the DA. Though they were in various stages of consciousness, each were fully dressed as everyone, particularly the DA, knew that an attack from Voldemort waited for no man to dress and had made a habit of sleeping in clothes.

A few buckets of water, accompanying drying charms and quick explanations later, all were keen to go. As it was doubtful that Fawkes would be up to a journey to headquarters after the fact to raise the alarm, Dobby was summoned, and the panicking elf was given a note with explicit instructions to wait five minutes before taking it to Hagrid. McGonagall was out of the question, as the witch was on leave, ironically enough, so she could devote her time to the Ministry and assisting authorities with the inquest into Umbridge's behaviour. While some people were hesitant to trust that Hagrid would be able to take on the responsibility, Estella was adamant. The man's old pet, Aragog, had just died, and she wanted to give the loyal half-giant a sense of purpose. She could only hope that the gesture would make up for months of hardly making the time to go and see the busy games keeper since his return from visiting with the giants. It had just been so difficult to make time to go visit the wizard since she didn't have any classes with him and he was always spending so much time in the forest.

"Why not send Dobby to your uncle?" Harry whispered to her as they gathered around the great bird, all but two people firmly clasping a person in each hand.

"Are you kidding?" Estella spoke over the patient bird between them as they grabbed onto either claw. "Dobby is terrified of my uncle, and I'd much rather my uncle find out about this when we're all back, nice and safe, thank you-"

"-very much," her sentence was finished within the main Atrium of the Ministry. It would have been a folly to deposit themselves right in the centre of where the Death Eaters were… better to start at the top and get a lay of the land first.

"Thank you, Fawkes," she whispered. The bird, too exhausted to orb itself anywhere – for indeed what little was left of his plume was dull and patchy – shrilled softly and flew up into an eave in the ceiling, where he promptly burst into flames. Those that were not entirely familiar with the Phoenix or had not seen a Burning before, leapt back in surprise and concern. Sighing, Estella looked up to where the bird once was and offered a quick reassurance. "He'll emerge from the ashes as a hatchling and be useless – to us anyway – for a couple of hours. Don't worry, he'll find his way home."

"Right now, I'm more worried about us making it home," said John in trepidation. Four years at an English boarding school had not been without its influence on the accent of the Irish-born, but Estella could always tell when her friend was nervous about something by the way his lilt returned. Right now, it was full force, causing a few of the Gryffindors, who had only ever spoken to him in passing, to look at him in surprise.

As they headed towards the nearest elevator, the Atrium seeming dark and foreboding without the usual bustle of activity that would hopefully return in a few hours time.

The beginnings of dawn glowing through the one-way windows that kept the Atrium lit by day barely crossed the threshold of the elevator as the doors began to close. Descending into the dark underbelly of the Ministry, the seven determined teenagers felt like they were the only people alive who knew that the day ahead was not going to be just another day.

END CHAPTER

A/N: Nothing like a little Cliff-hanger to mark the one-year anniversary of this fic grins wryly. A huge thank you to all of you faithful readers who have stuck it out this long; I am putting the polishing touches on the final few chapters and hope to have the story completed by month's close. When I'm not fighting off evil plot bunnies... hint

NEXT CHAPTER: May be on the weekend...