Chapter 12: Harry Potter

"It was him! He was standing with Hagrid! I swear it was! Harry Potter!" a Ravenclaw girl chirped as they herded through the doors into the entryway.

"You were just seeing things," another student answered.

"No, I saw him too," a second Ravenclaw said.

"You're mad. What would Harry Potter be doing here?" a fourth student butted in.

"Maybe he wanted to catch the match?" the second Ravenclaw suggested.

"Between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff? Not likely."

"Yeah," a Gryffindor added. "If he was going to come to a match it would have been between Slytherin and Gryffindor."

"Good thing he missed that," a Gryffindor in a red and gold striped scarf added darkly.

Matthew, who had waited for Donald and Shoshanna and now lagged behind the crowd of students coming from the game, turned to them and asked hopefully, "Do you think it really was Harry Potter?

"Who knows?" Donald answered. "He's got that invisibility cloak, doesn't he? He could have been here loads of times and we wouldn't know it."

"It's not as though he would come to visit Hufflepuff, anyhow," Shoshanna added.

Matthew felt a bit deflated. Part of him had already begun imagining Harry Potter, the Boy who Lived, the famous seeker, the one who had vanquished You Know Who coming down to congratulate him. Perhaps telling him how Oliver Wood could not have done better and how amazing it was that a squib could hold his own in a Quidditch match. Maybe he'd even sign his Boy Who Lived card?

"Well, perhaps he'd want to congratulate Tip. I mean it was a good catch," Matthew suggested.

"It was brilliant! That's what it was!" Donald emphasized with a thrust of his arm. "I'd take waking up early every day if it meant he could keep doing that."

"Suicidal, more like it," Shoshanna said.

Donald ignored her. "Did you see the way he ran down that wall? Ran down it! Like he was running across the pitch. And then just jumped back on and grabbed the snitch right over that girl's head. And did you see the look on Cass's face when he threw her the snitch?"

"I saw the look on Wycliffe's face," Shoshanna said with a note of warning. "Like he was ready to kill him."

"I know! That was the best part!" Donald tapped out the rhythm on the barrel that opened to the Hufflepuff common room.

The door swung open revealing a massive party. Loud dance music from Stregasus played as students shouted back and forth about the match. Polly was dancing with Taig Darrow off to the side of the room while the fat friar bounced around just above. The house elves had outdone themselves with cakes and pastries, sandwiches and cheeses galore littering every surface and at the center a giant cake in the shape of Helga Hufflepuff's cup. The portrait of Helga Hufflepuff herself watched over the celebrations with a proud maternal smile.

Declan was still carrying Tip on his shoulders while Tip held a butterbeer aloft in one hand and a chocolate eclair in the other.

"Whooo! Matthew Boot!" Declan hollered raising both his arms up causing Tip's butterbeer to slosh on him as he caught sight of the keeper. "It's about time you got here!"

Students were patting him on the back, ushering him towards the cakes and beverages.

Declan clapped an arm around his shoulders, causing Tip's shoe to wedge in his side. With his wand Declan silenced the music causing Polly to shoot him a scowl. "Hey everyone!" he shouted waiting a minute for people to quiet down and give him their attention. "Let's hear it for Boot, the one who finally broke Heavy Rotation!"

The Hufflepuffs cheered, raising their cups and bottles to him in a semi-toast.

"Heavy Rotation?" Matthew whispered.

"Yeah, that's the name of that spinning move in English. He named it based on some song from some cartoon show he liked in Japan." Declan didn't bother to whisper, he was too elated. "And you broke it."

"Well, Linnea did all the work."

"Yeah, but without you we never would have come up with it. They scored fifteen goals on Smith with it last year. Fifteen! In twenty minutes! And they would have probably gotten more but they caught the snitch and that ended the game. You're a hero, mate!"

Matthew positively glowed with pride. Everyone was patting him on the back, getting him butterbeers, handing him pastries. For once, he truly felt like he belonged at Hogwarts. When suddenly he was flooded with a cold, wet sensation smelling strongly of pumpkin.

"Oops. Sorry!" Josiah Smith sneered, empty glass in hand, a small group of Hufflepuffs Matthew knew to be his friends beside him giggling. "Someone must have bumped into me. Should be easy enough for you to clean up. Oh wait, you're a squib."

Matthew saw red. Just when he had begun to finally feel accepted that rat, Smith, had to remind him that he was, in fact, never going to fit in. Normally, he expected this kind of thing, didn't let himself get too caught up in the idea that he could ever be one of them, but for just one shining, glorious moment it had been within his grasp, he had felt it golden and gleaming as a snitch. And then it was gone in the icy chill of pumpkin juice. And that was it. He was done taking it. If he was going to get himself expelled at least it was going to be for a good reason. It was time to show Josiah Smith exactly what a squib could do.

And certainly he would have if Donald hadn't tackled Smith first. The two rolled on the floor exchanging punches. So shocking was it to see, that Matt forgot all about his own anger.

Smith's friends were about to pull their wands in his defense but Shoshanna was too quick for them. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," she warned. "That's right! You get him Donnie!"

She wasn't alone either, it appeared Smith had a rather large number of people who were perfectly glad to see him finally get knocked down a few pegs in a very literal sense. It took a full minute for Head Boy Quincy Koenig and Adrian Conway to pull the two boys apart. Donnie was bleeding from the lip.

"You wanna go? You wanna go?" Smith, his eye already darkening, challenged from the relative safety of Quincy's grip.

"Yeah. Come on Smith!" Donnie struggled against Adrian's grip, clearly hoping he might get in another punch or two. "You mess with my mate, you mess with me."

"Donald! Josiah! What is the meaning of this?" a shrill, musty voice cried from behind the students who encircled the boys who still appeared eager to fight. The crowd parted to reveal Prof. Sprout, the head of Hufflepuff house. "Fighting in the Hufflepuff common room? It's almost unheard of. And Mr. Macmillan you're a prefect. Whatever would possess you to do such a thing?"

Donnie glanced back and forth from Prof. Sprout to Smith. "He threw pumpkin juice on Matt, made fun of him for being a squib," Donnie panted, running a sleeve across his mouth, leaving a smear of blood from the corner.

"I tripped and spilled it!" Smith said defensively.

"He threw it. I saw him!" Shoshanna accused. "Him, Desiree, and Simon." Matthew had thought that felt like more than one glass.

Prof. Sprout turned to Matthew and saw he was still dripping pumpkin juice onto the castle floor.

She waved her wand in a fluid 'S' motion. "Scourgify," she said. Instantly, Matt's robes were clean and dry. "Both of you will have a week of detention in the greenhouses. You will be collecting stinksap so wear something you don't mind getting dirty." Both boys, as well as a few of their roommates groaned audibly. "Desiree and Simon, you will have three days with them. And I want all five of you to write a report on our house founder, Helga Hufflepuff, no less than two feet of parchment. Now, Mr. Smith, Mr. Macmillan, to your rooms."

Smith skulked off to the door that led to the fifth year dormitory. Donnie gave Prof. Sprout a quizzical look. "Oh yes, that's right, you're both fifth years. I forgot." From the twinkle in her eye, Matt was fairly certain she had not forgotten at all. "Well then, just sit over there." She waved off toward a table. Donnie sat down with a victorious look on his face, Shoshanna following him, sitting down and dabbing at his lip with a handkerchief.

Just then, Debbie burst through the door to the common room. "Hey! Didya hear?" she announced, panting heavily as though she had been running. "Harry Potter was at the match!"

Rumors that Harry Potter was spotted at the match persisted and grew until by supper the very students who had been denying he was even there were now claiming they had shook hands with him.

Tip joined Matt, Donnie, and Shoshanna at the dinner table.

"Bonzer bruise, mate," he said, referring to ugly dark circle of purples and reds that had formed beneath half of Donnie's lower lip.

Donnie smiled slightly, "You should see the other guy."

"I would, but he hasn't come out of his room yet."

Shoshanna, Matt, and Tip all laughed at this.

Taking the salt, Matt chimed in, "Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy."

"Oh? What was that?" Shoshanna feigned shock. "Is our Matty getting a bit of an edge?"

"Just starting to feel a bit more at home," he smiled.

"Students, may I have your attention please." Prof. McGonagall stood at the podium before the school. "Silence please."

"What do you think she wants?" Tip said through a mouth half stuffed with chicken drumstick. "Congratulate us maybe?"

"Shhhh!" Shoshanna placed her finger in front of her lips.

"Now I know you have heard the rumors that Mr. Harry Potter was at the match and I am here to tell you, those rumors are absolutely-"

"True." A voice spoke from the back of the hall. There was an audible gasp from the crowd. There he stood his black, militaristic Auror uniform showing from the gap between his black robes, older than his picture, but still with the same untidy black hair, round glasses, green eyes, and just above them, not quite obscured by his mussed bangs was the lightening bolt scar. He strode to the front to the chorus of whispers from the crowd.

McGonagall smirked, it was clear from her expression this sudden appearance came as no surprise to her. "Thank you, Mr. Potter. You always did know how to make an entrance." A few students laughed. "Now, if you would please join us at the Professor's table we might be able to begin supper."

"Thank you, Profes- I mean to say, Headmistress," Harry Potter - THE Harry Potter! - said as he took the vacant seat between McGonagall and Rolf Scamander.

"Students, as you likely all know, this is one of our former students, Harry Potter. He is currently in service to the Ministry of Magic as an Auror. He came today as a special favor to me to give a lecture earlier today to those seventh year students who are intending to go into the profession of Magical Law Enforcement. "

Bridget Kineely-McConville high-fived Jill Munhall.

"He was scheduled to leave after the lecture but has decided to join us for supper first. Now than, Mr. Potter, I know they will not be able to eat with their jaws hanging open so, if you would like to say a few words, now would be as good a time as any."

"Thank you, Headmistress." Harry approached the podium, smiled nervously, and swung his arms a few times. For a moment Matt could honestly believe the famous Harry Potter really was only twenty years old. "So... That was quite a match today wasn't it?"

The students roared appreciatively.

"I've been hearing rumors that Ravenclaw had a team that could compete in the National Quidditch League and I must say you didn't disappoint."

The Ravenclaws were ecstatic, shouting and patting Taro on the back.

"But Hufflepuff! You guys... I've never seen a snitch caught like that."

Tip threw both his fists in the air and screamed, "Snitches or stitches!" in appreciation as those around him applauded.

Harry glanced over at McGonagall, whose expression seemed to read: just go with it.

He swallowed and began again, "You know, it wasn't too long ago I was sitting at these tables. Well, that table in particular." He pointed over to the Gryffindor table, eliciting cheers. "You know, everyone talks about Harry Potter like I was some big hero my entire school career, but you know, I wasn't anything particularly remarkable. I was a decent student, burned through a cauldron or two in potions." Suddenly he winced, as though recalling a painful memory. "It wasn't really about any special talents I had, that's not how I defeated Lord Voldemort, it was about the people I chose to surround myself with, my friends. Where would I have been without Ron Weasley? Probably lying dead on some giant chess board before I'd even finished my first year, or at the bottom of a lake in the Forest of Dean. I can't even remember all the times he saved my life. And then there was Hermione Granger. Everything they say about her being the brightest witch of her age - completely true. She's remarkable, she is. And some of you remember my fiance, Ginny Weasley, I doubt I need to tell you how her and Neville Longbottom's courage are what kept Dumbledore's Army, kept hope, alive during those dark days. But you know, there was one other who maybe didn't seem like the most likely person to help save the Wizarding world, in fact, when I met her I thought she was a bit of a nutter, but even when I was at my darkest and it seemed like nobody believed in me, there was Luna Lovegood. These friends, they were what made me special, they were what made me able to defeat Voldemort. As an Auror I've learned even more how important it is to value the strengths of others and not just try to rely on yourself all the time. I can't even tell you how many times I needed Ron and Hermione and Ginny to knock some sense into me. That was Voldemort's mistake, he saw people as something to use to gain what he wanted, but he never saw any value in them, never understood the value of friendship, of love. That's why it is important to find friends that make you a better person, not just minions who will follow you."

A few students shot pointed glares over to Ceelee, who appeared completely unperturbed, if not mildly amused.

"The thing is, it doesn't matter who your parents were, how much money you have, what your blood status is, or even what your house is. Being a Slytherin doesn't make you bad - some of the best Aurors I know were Slytherins - and being a Gryffindor doesn't make you good, I think Peter Pettigrew more than proved that. It's about who you are and who you choose to be. And that's really all there is to it." He said, returning to his seat to uproarious applause.

Prof. McGonagall returned to the podium, "Thank you for those inspiring words, Mr. Potter. Now then, let us all tuck in, as it were."

After supper had ended and Harry Potter had left the great hall; for no one excepting Ceelee and a few of the Slytherins was willing to leave before he did just in case they might miss something important that would be talk of the school for weeks to come (Matt would have wagered if he had dropped his spoon in his soup it would become the newest trend to do so). Even then the entire school followed him to the Headmistress's office where they were shooed from the door by a rather cross Headmistress herself. He was following just behind Donnie and Shoshanna as they turned from the office. They were having a heated debate about... something... he had lost track two corridors ago when he heard a whisper from around the corner, just beside the office.

"Hey! Hey Boot!"

Matt ducked into the seemingly empty corridor where Ceelee was crouched almost hidden in shadow. "Ceelee! What is it?" he whispered back.

"Come on." She waved for him to follow her. He hesitated a moment. "Do you want to see Harry Potter or not?" He nodded. "Then come on!"

She led him down the corridor a few meters before stopping. She stood, searching the stone wall with the tips of her fingers. "I know it's here somewhere... Oh. There it is." The wall made a scraping sound as a group of a dozen bricks opened like a secret door revealing a steep tunnel leading up. She immediately clamored up into the hole. Matt just stood, peering up into the hole. Ceelee turned, "Well, what are you waiting for? An invitation? Come on."

Matt followed her up the narrow tunnel feeling much like Alice following the white rabbit. The tunnel opened up into a dimly lit cavity roughly hewn into the stone that was easily big enough for the two of them to crouch down. The front of the cave appeared to be made of some sort of thick canvas. Matt's fingers reached out to touch it. Ceelee slapped his hand away. "Don't touch that." she warned in a whisper.

"Where are we?"

"Shhh! We're behind one of the portraits."

"Which one?"

"How should I know? Now pipe down! I want to hear this." She lay on her stomach peering through a bright line of light at the base of the painting. Matthew followed suit. He was surprised to find he could see the entirety of the Headmistress's office.

Prof. McGonagall was sitting behind her desk, sipping a cup of tea while Harry Potter leaned with his hip against the opposite side, his arms folded across his chest, tea cup balanced on the desk corner next to him. He was looking right at them! For a moment Matt wondered if he could see them. Then he realized Harry was just looking at the portrait.

McGonagall produced a square tin covered in a tartan pattern. "Biscuit, Mr. Potter?"

"No thanks, Professor."

"Are you sure? They're shortbread."

"Thanks, but no. I don't have much of an appetite at the moment."

She helped herself to one, taking a bite from one end before laying the remaining half on the saucer next to her teacup. "Now then, Mr. Potter, I suppose we should get down to business. I assume Liberta has filled you in?"

"About the dementor attack on Halloween? Yes."

"It could have been much worse. Thank you for sending the owl."

"I was surprised you didn't cancel the event."

"Liberta advised me to, in retrospect I should have listened. But it seemed much more likely they would turn further East and avoid Hogsmeade in favor of muggle settlements."

"They're starving, Professor. They'll go wherever they can find food."

"Yes. So we've discovered."

"We've had three incidents of kisses in the past week. It's getting out of hand. A third of the Auror office is trying to keep this under control. It was all I could do to get away to come down here, but the letter you sent said you had important information that you didn't want to risk having intercepted."

"I feared if it fell into the wrong hands it might cause panic."

"Which is the last thing we need with waves of dementors moving throughout the countryside. It makes me wish I hadn't taken the case. But it was the first time they offered me a lead position. I was told there was some unrest amongst the dementors in the North - easy enough, cast a few patronus charms and they fall back in line. But when we arrived we found they had already migrated fifty miles south."

"Have you discovered why they are on the move?"

"Hunger, maybe? We don't have anything definite."

"I might." Prof. McGonagall produced a glass flask containing a scrap of grey fabric suspended in midair.

Harry took the glass and stared at the fabric with great interest. "This is a piece of a dementor's cloak. But how did you get it?"

"It was among the remains found with the children who were attacked."

"Remains?"

"Yes, remains."

"But all our information tells us dementors can't be killed."

"Apparently, they can."

"You think the children...?"

"No, neither of them had the ability."

"Which ones were attacked?"

"Liam McLaggen and Matthew Boot."

"Like Cormac McLaggen?" Harry asked.

"Yes, his younger brother. He was badly affected by the attack."

"And Boot... Why do I know that name?"

"Terence Boot, his brother, was in your year, though he was in Ravenclaw house."

"No, the name Matthew Boot is familiar..." The realization came to him. "Oh yes, the Squib who was playing Keeper in the match. The one Hermione was interested in. Nine OWLS was it?"

"Yes, and I still had misgivings letting him in. But he did assist me with dispatching a Death Eater during the Battle of Hogwarts. I felt I owed him at least a chance."

"He was at the Battle of Hogwarts?"

"An Apparation error, apparently, according to his parents."

Harry frowned. "Sounds like they were lucky to be rescued."

"I'm not so certain luck had anything to do with it."

"What do you mean, Professor?"

"Just when the dementor attacked a trio of death eaters appeared. I would guess they herded the dementors to Hogsmeade in the hopes of getting one to separate itself from the crowd so that they could ambush it."

"So the students were bait?"

"Unexpected bait, but yes."

"You said 'herded'..."

"Based on this incident, Liberta and I believe the death eaters are hunting the dementors."

Harry's arms dropped in his surprise at this pronouncement. "Hunting dementors? But why?"

"Mr. Boot related that he witnessed one of the death eaters restrain the dementor with a snake patronus while another cut it open, exposing the trapped souls."

Harry looked vaguely ill at the narration. He should be glad he hadn't had to see that scabby, slimy grey skin split open and that strange black pouch of an organ spill out, Matt thought.

"So they do keep the trapped souls then? I thought that was only a theory."

"A theory that has proven true, Mr. Potter. There was no way that Boot could have known of Justinian Timmons having been subjected to the dementor's kiss. Those records are sealed in Azkaban's vaults. Anyhow, it seems the dementor did not possess what they were searching for as they used their patronuses to dispatch it."

Harry Potter thought for a moment. "If the death eaters are hunting dementors, that would explain the strange migration pattern we've been seeing. The dementors aren't moving on their own, they're being chased, and every time they go to feed they become targets. Do we know which death eaters-"

Prof. Liberta Jones appeared in the doorway.

"Ah, Liberta, punctual, as usual."

Harry smiled and gave Prof. Jones a hug. "It's good to see you Auror Jones."

Jones fixed him with a wry smile. "Likewise, Mr. Potter. You aren't letting yourself get soft just because you aren't my trainee anymore, are you."

"No, ma'am."

"Then tell me, the Nicholas Flamel case?" her tone was as though she were giving a pop quiz.

"Sectum Sempera. Snape's old curse. Only known to a handful of Voldemort's followers."

"And...?"

"The Cruciatus Curse."

"How do you know?"

"His hands, they were still in the tell-tale clawlike position."

"Whose signature is Sectum Sempera combined with the Cruciatus Curse?"

"He's dead."

"Assume he wasn't."

"Magnus Rosier."

Matt's wand shivered in his pocket at the pronouncement of the name. He pulled it out, examining it. It seemed to be shaking on its own in his hands, emitting a low humming sound.

"Shhh!" Ceelee shushed him.

"It's not me! It's the wand!" he insisted in a barely audible whisper, holding the wand in front of her. She stared at it in silence.

"Very good, Potter."

"Magnus Rosier?" McGonagall asked, though her tone was not one of query. "One of those suspected in the murder of... of that Scottish family of muggles."

Harry's expression of puzzlement mirrored Matt's, but Prof. Jones appeared to know exactly of whom the headmistress was speaking.

"The very same. One of Riddle's favorite enforcers. He always hated the Killing Curse, felt it got things over with too quickly."

"His brother failed my class that year... he told me I would regret it." She consumed the other half of her biscuit, drowning it with a large sip of tea.

"I'm sorry, professor, but did you know those people?" Harry asked.

"It's not important. It was the sheer brutality of the killings that really shook the Wizarding World. It wasn't just that they were killed, but that the killer appeared to be amusing himself with the act. It took him hours... What he did to them." McGonagall answered, attempting to conceal a shutter.

"So, then, if the killer is using Magnus Rosier's signature, what does that tell you, Potter?" Prof. Jones abruptly shifted the subject back.

"That it must have been someone very close to Rosier who is copying his signature. Perhaps his sister, or the Lestranges. We know they were close associates of his."

"Or...?"

"I'm afraid I don't follow."

"What do you know about Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange?"

"Quite a lot. At least as much as any Auror."

"Were they ever ones to get their hands dirty?"

"Not if they could help it..."

"Come on, Potter, I trained you better than this. Of all people you should know what I'm getting on about. Remember that story you told me of the time you won a vial of Felix Felicis in class?"

Harry thought for a moment before his eyes flew open, "You can't mean...!"

"No, Liberta. I saw his body, myself, among the dead," McGonagall protested vehemently.

"But did you check it with Wiggenweld Potion?" Prof. Jones asked.

Matt saw the dawning realization on the Headmistress's face.

"No."

"Given the situation it's easy to understand why that might have been forgotten."

"I saw him buried. They must have spent a small fortune on the statue that marked his grave that proclaimed there was no greater honor to die for Lord Voldemort."

"It's just a theory. He's more likely stone dead in his grave. But there were whispers that a handful of Riddle's Death Eaters were not as loyal as they appeared and had made plans just in case of such an eventuality as his death. Among those were Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange and Evelyn Carrow, formerly Evelyn Rosier, Evan Rosier's twin sister. It would not have been difficult for his sister to administer the cure for Draught of Living Death, perhaps even at his funeral. Then it would have been no matter for him to simply leave the country under an alias. We had enough live death eaters to worry about, we weren't looking for dead ones."

Prof. McGonagall thin lips had retracted into little more than a line on her pale face, "But why go to so much trouble?"

"They were intending to re-form the death eaters under a new leader."

"Certainly not Magnus Rosier! He was never a particularly bright student - I can't imagine anyone would follow him."

"No. Nor the Lestrange brothers, they always preferred to be the power behind the throne," Prof. Jones said. "There was something unusual we found when we were able to gain back control of Azkaban. A prisoner was unaccounted for."

"What's so unusual about that?" Harry asked. "I imagine loads were unaccounted for."

"Yes, but this one could not have left on his own accord."

"What do you mean?"

"He had been the victim of the dementor's kiss."

"Who?" Harry demanded. From the fire in his eyes, Matt could tell he already knew the answer.

"Now, do keep in mind it is possible he died. His health was very frail at the time Azkaban was taken-"

"Who was it?" Harry demanded through gritted teeth.

"Bartemius Crouch jr."

Harry's fist slammed onto the desk, a reaction Prof. McGonagall didn't seem to find shocking in the least.

"Liberta, thank you for coming," McGonagall said. "If you don't mind, I should like to speak with Potter alone for a moment. Do have a good night."

"Of course, Minerva. Potter." She and Harry exchanged nods of farewell.

They waited until Prof. Jones had left and the sound of the gargoyle jumping in front of the office door could be heard below.

Harry was facing away from McGonagall, his breathing heavy, his expression black. "Is it possible?" he said in a barely contained tone.

"I'm sorry Mr. Potter but you know I-"

"IS IT POSSIBLE!" he shouted, so loud both Ceelee and Matt jolted back from the ledge. "With the Philosopher's Stone, is it possible?"

Prof. McGonagall stared down at the tartan colored tin on her desk. "Yes, if they could find the soul it would be possible to reunite the two using the Philosopher's Stone." She looked up at Harry once more, "But Dumbledore destroyed it. I helped him do it."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean Flamel couldn't have created another one after Dumbledore's dea- after Dumbledore was no longer around to stop him! He didn't want to destroy it in the first place! They stole the body and then they stole the stone and now they're searching for the dementor who has his soul!" Harry shouted.

"But even if they do have it, and Barty Crouch jr. has somehow been brought back from death's door. They may be able to reunite his body with his soul, but his mind, his memories, would be gone. These things don't survive too long after the kiss is administered." McGonagall spoke calmly, as if trying to soothe Harry with the voice of reason.

"I wish I could take comfort in that. Evelyn Carrow. That's the mother of that Carrow girl. I heard a lot about her in lecture, that she was unusually adept with some advanced dark magic and had united the Slytherins behind her. Do you think it's possible she would be working for her mother?"

"No." McGonagall said definitively.

"I heard what she did to McCraig. Blew off his arm and leg and half the corridor with them. I was surprised you didn't expel her for that."

"I had it on good authority that the spell was cast in self-defense. It was Mr. McCraig who attacked Ms. Carrow (a first year for goodness sakes!). Heaven knows what he would have done to her if she hadn't."

"Who's authority was it? Why didn't they testify at the Ministry hearing?"

"Curiosity killed the cat, Mr. Potter."

He looked like he was about to insist she tell him when it seemed to dawn on him, "Mrs. Norris."

McGonagall raised her brows.

"I know you like to give every student a chance to prove themselves, but she's dangerous. You should think of your other students."

Prof. McGonagall stood, her visage severe, "She is one of the most powerful witches of our age. More powerful than I think even she knows. Of course, I know she's dangerous! Do you think I do not realize this? But, at least, here she might have the chance to channel that power into good. Do you think she would find such an opportunity at home with her mother and sister and that revolving door of death eaters they have?"

"I think she would find the opportunity to recruit other students to her parents' cause."

"Of all people, I would think you would be the first to wish to give her a fair chance."

"I did give her a chance and she blew off McCraig's arm and leg."

"In self-defense!" McGonagall protested.

"She still did it! She could have just knocked him out. She was a first year - she knew Petrificus Totalus. He had a good future as a beater and that's gone. His mother was an Auror on the Lestrange case - you don't think that might have had something to do with it? It's quite a coincidence, don't you think? I mean maybe she is Carrow's daughter but-"

The Headmistress stood, suddenly. "I do thank you for your visit, Mr. Potter, but I fear we have kept you far to long. If you intend to spend the night we can have a bed made for you, but otherwise I would suggest that it is time to depart. Goodnight, Mr. Potter."

"Goodnight, professor, " Harry said bitterly, turning on heel so fast it made his cloak spin up behind him.

Ceelee and Matt withdrew from the portrait. Matt held his wand, rolling it across his palm as though seeing it clearly for the first time. No wonder his parents were wary of it. The things it had done, the lives it had ended, the sadistic tortures it had inflicted for its previous owner... he gripped it in both hands, contemplating breaking it. It was only right. He could feel a faint pulse from the wood, as though it knew his thoughts - the sensation did not seem to be discouraging. Perhaps the wand, itself, felt such an end fitting as atonement for its sins. But still, he could not forget what it had done for him in the Great Hall, how it had saved him from Ben Dorsett's curse. He held it a moment longer, felling the smooth wood. How easy it would be to snap it. Like snapping a twig. He relaxed his grip. He couldn't do it. It might not be truly alive but whatever it was, he couldn't kill it; not when it had saved him. Not when it had chosen him.

"Hey, let me see that." Ceelee snatched the wand from his hand. He had almost forgotten she was there.

"Hey!" he objected, but she only held her finger to her lips and pointed once more at the canvas.

She examined it closely. "I know this wand. This was my uncle's wand. How did you get it?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"You got it at the Battle of Hogwarts, didn't you?"

He snatched his wand back. "I said I don't want to talk about it." Matt started to slowly slide himself down the tunnel. He wanted to get away from her, away from the thing that he had done to win the wand. So Magnus Rosier had been killed. It was a long fall. He must have died on impact.

"Wait! Matt!"

He could hear her sliding down after him.

"He's not dead!"

Matt stopped so suddenly Ceelee crashed into his back. "What do you mean he's not dead?"

"Just what I said. My Uncle Magnus isn't dead. He was knocked out in the battle, some kid knocked him off of the staircases - I'm guessing that was you - but it only knocked him out. Prof. Jones was right. He and my mum had worked out a plan that if the battle went badly he would take the Draught of Living Death and then, she would administer the Wiggenweld potion when she kissed his body goodbye at the funeral."

"You're not just trying to make me feel better?"

"You've already met him twice. Good thing he didn't notice the wand. Even I couldn't have stopped him if he did."

"You're telling me he's one of the death eaters we met in the woods?"

"Yeah, he's the big one with the white hair. I'd know him anywhere. He used to be my favorite uncle, until I found out what he did."

"So you know who those death eaters are? You've known all this time? And you never told me or Liam?"

"I wouldn't tell McLaggen the time. Just because you want to be friends with him..."

"Well, what about me then?"

"Look, if you had known that it was Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange under those hoods what would you have done?"

Matt's eyes grew wide as saucers, even though it had been a month since he had seen them his hands began to shake. "Those were the Lestranges?"

"Now you see why I didn't tell you. You would have just panicked and then Rodolphus would have killed you and McLaggen. I mean the only reason he didn't anyway is that he thinks he's my Da'."

Matt stared at Ceelee as though he had never seen her before, but now, comparing her face feature for feature with those from the wanted posters. There were some similarities around the eyes and nose, but then, he'd never seen her mother or a good photo of her father.

"Is he?"

She picked at the rough floor of the tunnel. "How should I know? It's not like I was there at the time," she answered, irritably.

"Well, maybe some kind of test...?"

"Like I'd want to know! Isn't it bad enough being a Carrow? Without adding the possibility that I might be a Lestrange? Without him trying to play Da' to me whenever I'm home while my Da' is in prison. Like I'd want to be his kid. Like anyone would want to be! They disgust me - the whole lot of them! You know what I do with all the letter my Da' sends me from Azkaban?"

Matt shook his head, too overwhelmed by this information to answer.

"I burn them. I don't even bother to read them. They all say the same thing. How sorry he is. How he did it all for me and my sisters. How much he misses us. How much he loves us. If he loved us he wouldn't have done all that. He wouldn't have become a death eater. And all the while he's in prison, his old mate, Rodolphus, is playing house with my mum whenever he has the chance. Everyone knows it. I don't blame the others for hating me for being a Carrow. I hate being a Carrow. If I could have them all sent to Azkaban tomorrow I would, but my sis is the Secret Keeper."

Matt's head was swimming with all this new information. "You have to tell McGonagall."

"What? You honestly think I haven't?"

"Then why didn't she tell Harry Potter? Or Prof. Jones?"

"If she told Potter that it was the Lestranges behind the dementor attacks he'd go in there half-cocked and probably get himself killed. They've got the stone, remember? Do you know what that does to magical abilities? At the end of the day Potter's just an Auror. He's a good Auror, but he can still die. And with that stone... it wouldn't even be hard. Think about the army Rodolphus could raise as The Man Who Killed The Boy Who Lived. Right now he just thinks they're pulling the strings from a safe house. If he found out they were actually out and about, well there'd be no stopping Potter from walking right up to them and practically begging to be killed, and Prof. Jones there right alongside him. McGonagall wants me to gather more information first, before the Order goes in. She wants me to go home for Christmas but I've already told her I'm not doing that. Just the thought of being near that piece of scum trying to pretend we're all one happy family - I couldn't eat as much as I want to throw up."

Matt stared at Ceelee in awe. She really might be the coolest person in Hogwarts. "So you're a double-agent?" he asked, recalling the spy movies he used to love when he was with his muggle friends.

She shrugged. "I don't know what that is, but probably."

"It's someone who pretends to be a spy for one side when they are actually a spy for the other. Like Severus Snape."

"Oh yeah, then that."

"Did McGonagall make this tunnel for you?"

"Nah, I just found it one day in my first year. It's probably one of the ones that opened up after the Battle. I don't think they know about it yet. Listen, you can't tell anyone about this, alright? I didn't know they were going to talk about it so much or I wouldn't have invited you. I thought they were just going to mope about the fact Gryffindor is going to lose the cup again and then he'd talk about Ginny Weasley and the Holyhead Harpies. You would not believe how much they talk about Quidditch when he visits. They'll be up past midnight easy."

"Okay, I won't tell anyone," Matt said. Not that anyone would believe him, anyway.

She shoved her face next to his own so that they were practically nose to nose, her eyes boring into his own. He pulled his head back as far as he could.

"Promise me." she demanded.

"Okay, okay, I promise. What? Are you going to make me take an unbreakable vow?"

She backed off a bit, he could see a wry smile play upon her lips, "I can't. You're a squib. It doesn't work on squibs."

So she had considered it. Still, it didn't really bother him. Given everything he had seen and heard, everything she had told him...

"Why did you tell me all that anyway?" he asked.

"Dunno, guess it's cause your the closest thing I'm got to a friend here. And I can always do you like I did McCraig and there's not a darn thing you could do about it."

"I could die," he said dryly.

"That would make things more convenient for Slytherin's Quidditch chances."

After all of that, after all that had just been heard and said, they actually managed a laugh. Matt could scarcely believe it.

"We'd better go, it's pretty late," Matt said.

"Yeah. Let me go out first, in case Filch is passing by."

She struggled past Matt in the narrow tunnel causing him to bang his head and scrape his elbows. He could hear the bricks slide open.

"Well?" he asked.

"The coast is clear," she called back.

Matt struggled out through the hole. He stood, brushing the stone dust from his robes.

"Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"Not if I see you first, Squib."

He shot her a dirty look.

Suddenly, from behind them came a noise. "Meow."

Both of them turned in horror to see a dust colored cat with large, lantern-like eyes, sitting, as if waiting to be noticed.

"It's Mrs. Norris! Run!" he cried.

Ceelee sped off in one direction while he chose the other. There was a tapestry halfway down the next corridor that covered the door to a stairwell that only existed on Sundays that led to a chapel. With any luck he could hide there. As he rounded the corner he was momentarily blinded by a bright light, causing him to stumble and fall backwards.

"Well hello, dearie." Filch's grimy face peered out from beside his lantern. "Out of bed after hours, I see. That'll be detention for you."