Long wait again, I know, but Summer has been busy, and this chapter went through a lot of re-writes. If it's any consolation, this is the longest single chapter of the series yet; just shy of eleven thousand words (give or take a couple hundred words).

WEASLEY GIRL: SECRETS OF THE PAST

Based on the Harry Potter books by J. K. Rowling

CHAPTER ELEVEN
That Muggle Girl, Shirley Holes

In the end, all the Petrified ghosts remained in the dungeon they had been found in, making the dungeons even colder than usual — not an ideal solution, but there weren't any other places in the castle that could house over a hundred motionless ghosts.

If Lavender's Petrification had caused debate and concern in the Hogwarts students, it was nothing compared to the arguments that broke out after what had happened to the ghosts.

Some students were more convinced that ever that You-Know-Who's diary had to be behind it all; after all, what else besides magic of the type You-Know-Who was famous for could anything like that to a ghost — and to a room full of ghosts at that? Others, however, were not so sure; after all, the Bloody Baron had been one of the victims and You-Know-Who was the quintessential Slytherin; why would he harm a Slytherin ghost?

Attempts had been made to ask other ghosts about it, but the results hadn't been very satisfactory. The only two Hogwarts ghosts who had escaped Petrification were Professor Binns and Moaning Myrtle; Myrtle because she had stormed off from the party before the Petrification had happened, and Binns because he had plain forgotten that there was a party at all, and had spent the evening going through next week's lectures on the eleventh goblin rebellion.

Neither of them were much help when it came to figuring out what had happened, though. Myrtle just howled worse than ever and refused to talk to anyone, and Binns just murmured about the terrible inconvenience of it all, being more concerned with how this might affect his lessons than with the fact that dozens of his fellow ghosts were Petrified and lifeless. "I must say, this is quite selfish of them," he complained. "What if I needed to consult the Grey Lady or Fat Friar on something? I do wish spirits would spend some time thinking about how they affect their fellow ghosts before they decide to get Petrified like that."

The ghosts from the Headless Hunt, who had showed up for the deathday party shortly after the Petrification, were even less helpful. They'd haughtily declared that they'd never heard of anything Petrifying any ghost like that, and that the Hogwarts ghosts had to be a bunch of pathetic wimps.

"No proper ghost would just up and Petrify like that!" huffed Sir Patrick, the ghost Nick had wanted Harry to impress. "Ha! And that Nick thought he belonged with the Headless Hunt! Look at the fellow, all black and immobile! Just doing it for the attention, I shouldn't wonder!" And with that, he and the rest of the Headless Hunt had ridden off on their ghost horses without so much as a backwards glance.

Ronnie might have felt a little bad for Nick over this, but frankly being found unworthy by a society he hadn't qualified for in the first place didn't seem all that important compared to the Petrification. How would Professor Sprout even get enough Mandrakes to restore all the ghosts? Could the ghosts even be revived by the Restorative Draught?

The only one who was happy about the ghosts' Petrification was Filch, who was unable to contain his glee that Peeves was finally subdued and unable to make any more trouble. For several weeks he was almost friendly to students, and Ronnie suspected he sometimes went down to the dungeons just to gloat over Peeves's Petrified form.

Dumbledore had of course talked with Potter's Gang about what they had seen down in the dungeon, but really, it didn't seem to Ronnie like they could tell him all that much that he couldn't surmise for himself after having examined the Petrified party — especially since Harry seemed reluctant to tell him about the voice he'd heard. (Probably he was a little nervous that Peeves's earlier mocking words would be true and that hearing voices really was a sign that he was going insane.)

Since nobody could say what had attacked the ghosts, or whether it was connected to Lavender, or You-Know-Who, there was a bit of a debate about extra security measures, similar to the ones been taken back after You-Know-Who had vanished with Snape and the Invisibility Cloak last year, and for some time, it looked like Quidditch practices would be cancelled again.

But after some careful consideration by the teachers, and to Oliver Wood's great relief, practices continued almost as planned; just with an extra escort and guard to and from the Quidditch pitch.

With all this (and the ever-annoying, ever-present fact of classes and homework), it took a couple of days before Ronnie could really talk to the rest of Potter's Gang about everything.

"All right, Ronnie," said Hermione, sounding slightly impatient. "What was it that was so important for you to tell us?"

The six of them — Ronnie, Hermione, Harry, Neville, Ginny and Colin — were gathered in Harry and Neville's dorm room a few days after Halloween; the first day they actually managed to get some time to themselves. Dean and Seamus were down in the common room, so for the moment they could talk undisturbed.

Ronnie took a deep breath. "Malfoy has You-Know-Who's diary!" she said.

"What?" said Harry, his eyes widening behind his glasses.

"You're mental!" said Ginny. "First Lockhart, then Wormtail, and now —"

"No! Listen!" said Ronnie. "I've been thinking it over for days now, and it's obvious! Malfoy knew about Harry's Dad and his friends, right?! Back when Harry had that letter from Mister Lupin, Malfoy was talking about what a fat, pathetic excuse for a wizard their friend Peter was! But we know Peter's been dead for eleven years, so how could Malfoy know what kind of person he was? Simple: He got it all from You-Know-Who's diary!"

"I dunno, Ronnie... how would You-Know-Who know about Harry's Dad and his friends?" said Neville in confusion.

"Because Sirius Black told him!" Ronnie said triumphantly.

They all looked at her with various degrees of scepticism. The exception was, as usual, Colin, who just looked awed and impressed.

"It makes sense," Ronnie insisted. "We know that You-Know-Who wanted to get to Harry's Mum and Dad, right? And Sirius Black went over to his side! Of course he'd have told You-Know-Who everything about their gang, anything that could be used against them! And he could have called Peter a fat, pathetic excuse for a wizard, couldn't he? If he was betraying them, he wouldn't be talking about how brilliant and clever they all were!"

"I... suppose not," said Hermione. "But really, don't you think —"

"And!" Ronnie cut her off. "Malfoy was there at the Hogwarts Express. He was even in our compartment! I had the diary in my trouser pocket, he could have seen the contours of it and guessed what it was. So he waited until we all fell asleep —"

"And he knew we would all fall asleep, did he?" said Hermione. "The odds against it were astronomical, who falls asleep on the Hogwarts express? All ready for the new school year and —"

"Everybody knows the Malfoys are up to their ears in the Dark Arts," Ronnie answered. "Malfoy probably threw hexes and curses since before he could walk. If he wanted to make us all fall asleep, he could have. In fact, that explains why we all fell asleep." Another thought struck her. "And it explains why Crookshanks and Hedwig looked so ruffled when we woke up, as if they'd been in a fight! They must have tried to stop him! So he came into our apartment while we slept, fought off Crookshanks and Hedwig, and then stole the diary from my pocket. That even explains why I was feeling so icky when I woke up. I'd been pawed in my sleep by — ugh — Malfoy."

"You're just like Sherlock Holmes," said Colin admiringly.

Ronnie blinked. "Who?"

"Fictional Muggle character," Hermione explained in a slightly impatient voice. "Detective who solves all kinds of crimes using reason and deduction. But Ronnie, you've missed one important detail."

"Huh?"

"Why would Malfoy take the diary? Even if he saw the contours of it in your pocket, he couldn't possibly have known what it was. For all he knew, it was just a random book you hadn't managed to fit in your trunk."

"Yeah," said Harry, a little hesitantly. "I could see Malfoy get up to all sorts of Dark stuff, but I doubt even he would go through all that trouble just to steal a random book from you."

"Oh," Ronnie felt her spirits sink a little, but moments later they rose again as she remembered something else. "But, no, wait! Malfoy knew about the diary!"

"That's impossible! How?" Hermione demanded.

"He was there at Flourish & Blotts, remember? The day Scabbers ran off!"

This crushing piece of evidence was not met with the dawning looks of understanding or gasps of "Merlin's beard, she's right!" that Ronnie had secretly hoped for. In fact, the others were just looking at her as if waiting for her to get to the point.

"He was there when Lockhart gave those free books to Harry and Ginny," she explained patiently. "He could have seen Lockh—" (she cut herself off with a look at Hermione) "— could have seen whoever it was slip the diary into one of the books!"

Hermione frowned. "If he did, he couldn't have had more than a short glimpse of the diary, at most," she said. "I don't think he'd be able to recognise it as something important based on that."

"His family was right in You-Know-Who's inner circle," said Ronnie. "Everyone knows that."

"Yes, when he was a baby!" said Hermione. "So what you're saying is that Malfoy, back at Flourish & Blotts, got a two-second glimpse of a little black book, and this was enough for him to instantly recognise a book he couldn't possibly have seen since he was one year old, and probably not even then; and on the train, when he happened to see that you had a book in your pocket, he instantly deduced that it was the same book — despite having no plausible reason to think so." She took a deep breath. "You're right, that makes perfect sense."

"Well, sure, if you're gonna put it like that, it sounds stupid," Ronnie muttered. "But I'm gonna keep an eye on Malfoy nonetheless."

"I think you just want it to be Malfoy," Hermione accused. "You're jumping to some pretty far-fetched conclusions here, and we have absolutely no evidence."

"All right, so let's get some evidence! Harry, can I borrow the Invisibility —"

"No!" Hermione interrupted her before she could finish (and before Harry could react). "You can't go around spying on everyone you suspect of having the diary! And if you're right and it was Voldemort's diary that Petrified Lavender and the ghosts, then you're the last person who should go looking for it."

"I won't get Petrified," said Ronnie. "Lavender and the ghosts were caught by surprise, but I won't be! I'll be on my guard the entire time!"

"You don't know that!" Hermione grabbed both Ronnie's shoulders, her voice turning shrill. "Ronnie, you're immune to potions! If you did get Petrified —" She paused, swallowed, and continued in a much softer tone: "The Mandrake Restorative Draught wouldn't work on you. They might never be able to wake you up."

Ronnie felt as if a black pit had opened in her stomach. She hadn't thought of that. "Oh. Right."

"Promise me you won't do it," said Hermione intensely, still holding onto Ronnie. "Harry, promise me you won't let her do it!"

"Sorry, Ronnie," said Harry. "Suppose I'm with Hermione on this one. Lavender can be brought back. Dumbledore says the ghosts can too. But you couldn't."

"I could," said Ginny suddenly.

Everybody turned to look at her.

"I'm not immune to Potions," she said. "They'd be able to revive me."

"Me too!" Colin piped up. "I wouldn't mind taking the risk!"

"What?" said Ronnie. For a moment, she could see Ginny and Colin for her inner eye, lying on their backs with a glassy stare on their faces, just like Lavender... She shuddered. "Forget it," she said. "Hermione's right. We'll think of something else."

Hermione drew a breath of relief, and Neville looked pretty relieved too, but Ginny frowned.

"We're not babies, we don't need you to hold our hands!" she said in an insulted tone.

"Exactly!" Colin agreed.

"And I'm better at sneaking than you are," said Ginny. "And I know at least as much as you about the diary, since I was with you when you wrote in it!"

"Sorry," said Harry again, "but I'm putting my foot down here! It's my Cloak, and nobody's borrowing it, at least not until we're certain nobody's getting Petrified!"

Neither Ginny nor Colin looked convinced, but thankfully they didn't argue. "Okay," Ginny sighed, "but what do we do then? We can't just sit around and wait for there to be another attack, can we?"

"I didn't say we should," said Harry. "But we need to be smarter about this."

"What about the Marauder's Map?" said Neville suddenly. "That's sort of like a way to keep an eye on Malfoy, isn't it?"

Ronnie thought about it, but then shook her head. "Fred and George wouldn't lend it to us," she said. "You heard how they went on about it. The secret of our success, and all that."

But Ginny, quite unexpectedly, was grinning. "I think I've got an idea," she said. "If you give me a bit of time, I can almost guarantee you that within the week, Fred and George are going to give us the Map."

Ginny was as good as her word. The following Friday, which was the day before the upcoming Quidditch match, the twins set upon Potter's Gang in the rather crowded common room, and motioned for them to join them in the short stone hallway that connected the portrait of the Fat Lady with the circular common room.

Over the centuries, generations of Gryffindors had sort of adopted this short hallway as a bit of an "emergency privacy room" after curfew, when everyone was confined to Gryffindor tower; a place where you could retreat for brief exchanges of private information or (presumably) a quick snog. It was generally understood, if seldom talked about, that if two or more Gryffindors briefly retreated to the hallway during curfew hours, it was because they wanted a couple minutes' privacy, and the unwritten rule was that you didn't try to snoop or interrupt — at least not for a few minutes. Granted, the rule only counted for a few minutes, so the hallway was useless for longer conversations. Not to mention that it was in no way a guarantee against, just to name a random example, overly-concerned older brothers who wanted to make sure you didn't get into any trouble.

So it was only after careful checking that no other students (and especially Percy) were listening in, that George pulled the familiar-looking old parchment out of his robes. "Fred and I have been thinking," he said. "We reckon you lot probably need this more than we do."

"It's a bit of a loss to us, we will admit," said Fred, "but by now we know all the secret passageways of the school by heart anyway. And really, when you get down to it, avoiding Filch and that cat of his is more of a sport when we don't know exactly where they are at any given moment."

"Right," George nodded. "Should give the old boy a fair chance, after all. And we're really old enough now to manage on our own now."

Ronnie stared at them both, completely flabbergasted. She then looked over at Ginny, who just smiled very sweetly at her in return.

"Harry Potter," said Fred, turning to him after ceremoniously taking the parchment from his twin. "It is our great honour to hereby declare you the Keeper of the Marauder's Map. Use it well, young wizard." He held out the Map for Harry to take.

Harry looked at it, seeming at a loss. "Why — why are you giving it to me?" he said. "Why not Ronnie or Ginny?"

"Because," said Fred with a grin, "they would get into more trouble than they could handle if we gave it to them."

"We would not!" said Ronnie, offended.

"And giving it to Hermione was out of the question; she'd just turn it in to Professor McGonagall or something."

"Hmmm," said Hermione, in a sort of 'I-will-neither-confirm-nor-deny-this' way.

"We thought about Neville, but —"

"I'd lose it," said Neville. "Even if I tried to take good care of it, I'd lose it."

"And Colin —" Fred looked at the smallest boy with a shrug. "No offence, but we don't really know you all that well."

"Okay!" said Colin, who didn't seem offended at all.

"But you, Harry," Fred finished, "we've had the pleasure of getting to know quite well. And we trust you to be responsible with the Map — but not too responsible. So take it!"

"Keep an eye on our sisters and keep track of enemies, but don't pass up a chance to have some fun with it either!" said George.

Harry finally did as they asked him, taking the Map in one hand and looking down on it. "Thank you," he said.

"Oh, and we know we showed you how to activate it," said George. "Just tap it with your wand and solemnly swear you're up to no good. But what's also important is that you wipe it after you've used it."

"Wipe it?" Harry repeated.

"Yeah, you tap it with your wand again and say 'Mischief Managed,'" said George. "That'll clear the entire parchment. So that in case someone comes snooping, they'll just think you're carrying a blank piece of parchment."

"But if you don't wipe it, anyone'll be able to read it," Fred added. "And you want to keep the number of people who know about this to a minimum."

"Right, so be careful!"

"But not, as we said, too careful."

The twins winked at Harry, and then, with no further comment they walked off towards the fireplace, leaving Potter's Gang behind with Harry still holding the Marauder's Map.

After a few moments' silence, Ronnie turned to Ginny. "How'd you manage to convince them?!" she demanded. "If I'd tried to get that Map off them, they would have just laughed at me or threatened to prank me or hex me or —"

"That's because you're rubbish at handling them, dear older sister," said Ginny, with a rather self-satisfied look on her freckled face. "You just get angry and sarcastic. With Fred and George you have to be more subtle."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Ginny smiled. "I just told them that if they didn't, you'd charge off somewhere and get yourself into trouble because you wouldn't see what you were up against."

"I would n—" Ronnie began, and then thought better of it.

Harry, probably a little wary that this might be a prank from the twins' side, carefully unfolded the parchment, looked around to check that they were still unobserved, and then tapped the parchment with his wand they way George had done before. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

All at once, the parchment sprang to life, with the ink lines forming the elaborate words that declared that Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs were proud to present the Marauder's Map, followed by the appearance of Hogwarts and the myriad of small dots and tags.

"It really is the Marauder's Map," said Harry, looking at Ginny with some admiration. "You're amazing!"

Ginny blinked and blushed at the sudden praise, and Ronnie was childish enough (and annoyed enough with her sister's smug attitude) to say "Yeah, Harry, I think you should give her a big wet kiss as a thank-you."

Ginny started, her eyes wide, her face redder than her hair. "Squeak!" she squeaked, and then hid her face in her hands.

"What?!" Harry yelped at the same time, turning almost as red as Ginny. "I'm not — Ronnie, be serious!"

"You're horrid," said Hermione to Ronnie.

"So, er, could I see the Map?" said Neville hurriedly, positioning himself between Harry and Ginny . "I'd like to see if — thank you, Harry." He held the Map up and squinted as he looked at all the minuscule, labelled dots. "Er — yes, there's Malfoy right there, he's down in the dungeons with Crabbe and Goyle and Zabini, and a lot of other Slytherins... must be their common room. And here we have — huh!"

"What is it?" At the sight of Neville's widened eyes, Harry seemed to forget his embarrassment and moved to look at the Map.

"Well, someone was by the kitchen, named Peter Pettigrew," said Neville. "He's gone now, but...that was his last name, you know, your Dad's friend, the Peter who died."

They all looked at one another.

"Can't be the same Peter," said Hermione after a while. "If he died at the same time as Harry's parents —"

"Ghost?" Colin suggested.

Hermione shook her head. "The only ghosts left are Professor Binns and Moaning Myrtle, remember? Most likely it's a relative that was named after the original Peter Pettigrew." She paused, thinking for a moment. "Is that a common practice for the wizarding world? Naming children after relatives?"

"It happens," said Ronnie. "With the Weasleys, we all get our middle names from older relatives."

"Yeah," said Ginny, still rather red but with a sort of vengeful look in her eyes, "that's why Ronnie's middle name is —"

"Shut up, Ginny!"

"You know," said Neville hurriedly, "it really was just a short glimpse before he vanished, and the writing's tiny. I could have read it wrong. Maybe it didn't say 'Pettigrew' at all, but 'Flowerdew' or 'Pattygrow' or something like that. 'Peter'is a pretty common name, anyway, must be a few of them at Hogwarts. And it's pretty hard to pick out individual names on this, anyway."

"Well," Harry finally said when nobody else had anything to add to that (and it became apparent that Ginny wasn't going to reveal Ronnie's middle name after all.). "Let's just keep checking the Map and see what turns up. There doesn't seem to be much else we can do right now, unless anyone has any brilliant ideas?"

None of them did, and around now a few of the people in the common room seemed to be getting a little curious about what Potter's Gang were doing out in the hallway for so long, so Harry declared that they might as well break it up for now.

And nobody remembered Peter Pettigrew again before much later, which would turn out to be a big error.

The next day, the first Saturday in November, came the day for the first Quidditch match of the year. It was Gryffindor versus Slytherin, and Harry's first match as the Gryffindor Seeker.

It turned out to be a rather unpleasantly muggy sort of day, cold but with a hint of thunder in the air. Hardly the ideal weather for what was going to be Harry's first real Quidditch match, but the rest of Potter's Gang were determined to be there on the stands, cheering louder than anyone when he caught the Snitch and showed that git Malfoy a thing or two.

"I just hope Harry catches the Snitch before the storm breaks out," said Ronnie as the Gang (at the moment without Harry but with Ginny and Colin) made their way up to the stands.

"I hope he catches the Snitch at all," said Neville. "The Slytherin team has much better broomsticks."

"It's Harry," said Colin, the epitome of confidence on Harry's behalf. "He could fly circles around everyone else even if all he had to fly on was a — a loo brush." (Ginny stifled a giggle, Hermione rolled her eyes.)

"Yeah," said Ronnie, "and there's more to Quidditch than having a rich father who can buy your place onto the team with a few lousy Nimbus Two Thousands —"

"Two Thousand and Ones," Ginny corrected her. "You don't think Malfoy's Dad would buy last year's model, do you?"

Ronnie scowled, just a little. Of course, she had no say over who Slytherin chose as their Seeker and if they wanted that git Malfoy just because he had the money to buy the entire team, it was no skin off her arse. It was just so — so infuriating that he always seemed to get everything he wanted.

"Harry's a much better flier, though," said Ginny, with absolute confidence even if she hadn't actually seen Malfoy fly. "Nimbus broomstick or not, Harry'll fly his pants off."

"Ginny!" Ronnie groaned. "I just ate. Please don't try to make me imagine Malfoy with his pants off."

They had to stop a bit after that to wait for Hermione's sudden fit of the giggles to pass, but finally got up to the top row.

The stands were packed; about the only Gryffindor who wasn't present was Parvati, who'd said that watching Quidditch was no fun without Lavender and had opted to stay behind in the castle — but Dean, Seamus and Fay were all there, ready to cheer for Harry as loudly as anyone.

Dean, who was a good artist, had even made a large banner out of an old bed sheet, with a drawing of a roaring lion and the text "POTTER FOR PRESIDENT." (He'd originally planned to write "MALFOY'S MOTHER WAS A HAMSTER AND HIS FATHER SMELLED OF ELDERBERRIES," which was probably another one of his weird Muggle references, but Hermione had glared at him until he changed it.)

They'd just got settled when Hagrid showed up as well. The wooden stands creaked a bit under his weight, but luckily showed no signs of collapsing.

"Couldn' miss Harry's firs' game! Here, brought a pair o' these," he said, looking almost as excited as Colin as he patted a large pair of binoculars around his neck. "Sorry I'm late, had to re-secure the chicken coop... Another rooster's bin killed."

"Another one?" said Ronnie. "Did you ever find out what killed the first one?"

Hagrid shook his head. "Thought it might be a fox, but if it is, it's the trickiest one I've ever seen. No idea how he even got into the coop... . thought I had it so secure that not even a rat could get in."

"Maybe it's not an animal, maybe it's a wizard!" said Colin. "They could cast a spell into the coop, couldn't they?"

Hagrid raised his enormous bushy eyebrows. "What sane wizard would do that? 'Specially since the hens were all perfec'ly fine. 's jus' the roosters what's bin getting it...!"

"I dunno. Maybe someone who's just got it in for roosters!" Colin suggested. "Someone who likes hens but hates roosters?"

"What, someone who likes to sleep in, but wants eggs for breakfast?" said Ronnie. "That's silly. You might as well suggest that it's a basilisk-lover or something." And then, at Colin's blank look, she had to explain: "A basilisk's a huge lethal snake that can kill you just by looking at you. I read about it in one of Charlie's books. Really dangerous, but it can't take the sound of a rooster crowing."

"That is so cool," said Colin. "Why not?"

Ronnie shrugged. "The book didn't say. Just said that if a rooster crows, the basilisk dies. Maybe it's got something to do with the basilisk being hatched from a chicken egg."

"Of course!" Collin nodded in understanding. "It thinks the rooster's its father, so it dies of embarrassment!"

Before Ronnie could comment on this, the stands exploded in a loud cheer.

The two Quidditch teams came out on the pitch, the Gryffindors in the classic scarlet Quidditch robes, and the Slytherins in green. Even at a distance it was hard to miss the fact that the Slytherins were all carrying identical, sleek-looking racing brooms while the Gryffindors' brooms were a mitch-match of whatever they'd been able to find in the school broom-shed that flew all right. (It was clear that Harry's broom was a step above the rest, though; Wood had insisted that the best flier should have the best broom.)

"Hello," came the amplified voice of Lee Jordan from the commentator's stand, "and welcome to the first Quidditch game of the season! It's Gryffindor versus Slytherin! Both teams are playing with new Seekers this season — for Slytherin it's Draco Malfoy, who we all know blatantly bribed his way to the position —"

"Jordan!" came the annoyed voice of Professor McGonagall, who was standing right beside him.

"Sorry, Professor — and Gryffindor's new Seeker is the one and only Harry Potter!"

There was a bit of extra cheering at that, though predictably not from the Slytherin side of the stands, where the boos and hisses dominated. Ronnie shouted as loud as she could, as did Ginny and Colin, to drown the Slytherins out.

Madam Hooch, the flying teacher and general Quidditch supervisor, was already standing right on the middle of the field and calling for the two team captains to come and shake hands before the start — and Oliver Wood and Marcus Flint did as requested, but looked more like they were trying to break each others' hands than wishing each other luck.

"I want a nice, clean game," said Madam Hooch brusquely, just as she always did before a Quidditch match. "Now, on my whistle! Three... Two... one..."

"AND THEY'RE OFF!" Lee announced as fourteen players shot up into the air.

Ronnie couldn't help but feel a twinge of pride in Harry, as he flew faster and higher than anyone else, gaining height twice as fast as any player on the Slytherin team despite having a much lower-quality broom. She'd been the one to introduce him to flying, last year, and he'd been a prize student who had picked up the intricacies of flying almost faster than she could teach them. There were a few impressed murmurs as he rose up in the air, high above Malfoy.

Ronnie could see the Slytherin git trying to gain the same height as Harry, probably to show off how fast his broom was. He looked like he was trying to taunt Harry, but this did not work as well as he'd probably intended because one of the Bludgers was heading for them at full speed and they had to scatter in order to avoid getting hit.

The Bludger hovered in the air for a split second, and then it shot after Harry, only to be knocked aside by Fred, who had shown up just in the right time.

"GO FRED!" Ronnie yelled, even if she wasn't at all sure he could hear her.

But the Bludger seemed to have it in for Harry. It shot after him again, forcing him to fly off at full speed. Fred hit it away from Harry again and again, but always it kept coming back, faster and harder.

"Tha's not righ'," said Hagrid, peering up through his binoculars. "Bludgers aren' s'pposed ter act like that! Look at it! There's somethin' fishy goin' on around here!"

The Bludger was attacking Harry from all sides, so fast that it was visible only as a blur in the air. Harry kept dodging it, but even with his talent for flying he would no doubt have been knocked down by it within seconds if it hadn't been for Fred and George, who were now both circling him protectively, their Beater's bats always knocking the persistent ball off-course before it could hit Harry.

The problem with this was that now both the Gryffindor Beaters were occupied with that one Bludger, but the other one was acting normally, flying around and attacking every player indiscriminately. The two Slytherin Beaters kept it away from their team members, but Katie, Angelina, Alicia and Wood all had to dodge it on their own, leading to a number of missed opportunities. Angelina missed an easy goal thanks to that Bludger, and Wood let in two goals because the Bludger stopped him from getting to the right hoop in time.

As if this wasn't enough, now the thunderstorm that had threatened to break out all morning decided to make good on its threat. Thunder cracked across the sky, and soon it was pouring down heavily.

Hagrid, who always had his pink umbrella with him, was kind enough to share it with the kids closest to him. Ronnie found herself squeezed in together with Hermione, Ginny, Neville and Colin, looking up at the grey skies.

"Thank goodness Harry learned that Impervius charm," said Colin, determined to look on the bright side. "Otherwise he'd never be able to see anything in this rain, with his glasses!"

But Harry had enough problems even if his glasses weren't giving him any problems. Despite Fred and George's tireless efforts to keep he mad Bludger away from him, it was attacking him relentlessly — and not only keeping him from looking properly for the Snitch, but constantly threatening to knock him off his broom.

"Someone's tampered with that Bludger!" Hagrid growled. "Mark my words! It ain't s'pposed ter be doin' that! If I ever find out who's responsible...!"

"Malfoy!" Ronnie narrowed her eyes and squinted to peer at the greenish blur flying there in the rain. Didn't he look even more smug than normal...?

"I don't think Malfoy could have done it," said Hermione dubiously. "I've read that it takes strong magic to tamper with a Bludger, and —"

"Ronnie," said Neville, and when she turned to look a him she could see that his face had gone slightly green. "What if it's You-Know-Who's diary?"

Ronnie's heart felt like it turned into ice. "STOP THE GAME!" she screamed.

The people closest to her at the stand turned to look at her questioningly, but it was clear that her voice wasn't carrying very far over the loud sound of the rain.

But Hagrid had got the gist. "Cover yer ears," he told Potter's Gang, and then he raised his voice and shouted: "WOOD! CALL FER A TIME-OUT!"

Thank goodness he'd told them to cover their ears. Hagrid, when shouting at the top of his voice, was loud enough that he didn't need a microphone or an Amplifying charm: his voice carried over the sound of the rain and thunder like nothing. This time, everyone at the Quidditch stands, and all the players, turned to look.

Wood, who wasn't about to argue with the shouting Hagrid, signalled to Madam Hooch for a time-out. The players all descended from the sky, with Harry, Fred and George still trying to beat off the mad Bludger as they came in for a landing. Luckily, George got in a particularly good hit that sent it sailing away for long enough that they could land without getting killed.

Hagrid motioned for Potter's Gang to follow him and then made his way down the stands and towards the pitch. Ronnie, following closely, had never had such a clear pathway down from a crowded Quidditch stand; when Hagrid wanted to go somewhere, people did not stand in his way.

It was a small crowd that met the Gryffindor team down on the field, as the entire Potter's Gang, plus Ginny and Colin, had followed.

"What is all this?" Wood demanded as they all approached.

"Someone's fixed that one Bludger," said George before either Ronnie or Hagrid could say anything. "It keeps trying to murder Harry."

"Fixed the Bludger? They've all been locked up in Madam Hooch's office since our last practice, and nothing was wrong with them then..." Wood looked anxious.

"I don' care where they've bin, tha' Bludger's bin tampered with," said Hagrid. "Look out — here it comes!"

And the mad Bludger, which didn't seem to have realised that there was a time-out going on, came zooming down from the sky, headed straight for Harry.

Harry yelped and managed to throw himself aside just in time, as George swung his bat again to send the iron ball flying away. This time, however, he didn't manage to send it flying far enough, and within seconds it had turned to fly back towards Harry.

But before it could reach him, it stopped in mid air, completely suspended.

Professor Dumbledore was approaching. He was holding out his wand, pointing it straight at the Bludger. He wasn't speaking any kind of incantation or spell, but even Ronnie could feel the sheer power he was using to keep the disgruntled iron ball in check.

"Hagrid," he said, never breaking wand-contact with the Bludger but nodding at the large man.

"Righ' on it, Professor Dumbledore, sir." Hagrid reached out an enormous hand and grabbed the Bludger as Dumbledore broke wand contact. The Bludger sprang back to life, beginning to struggle to get free of Hagrid's grip, but he held it firmly, like an iron vice.

"D'you believe me now?" said George rather sourly to Wood.

"This is insane!" said Alicia. "Let's call for an inquiry..."

"No!" said Harry. "If we quit now, we forfeit the match! That's just what the Slytherins want!"

"Harry, don't be daft!" said Katie. "You want your skull smashed by that crazy Bludger?"

"This is your fault, you know!" George was still angry at Wood. "Catch the Snitch or die trying — what'd you go and tell him that for?!"

Several more people were starting to come up to them now. The Slytherin team weren't particularly shy about their curiosity, and several of the teachers were showing up as well; there was McGonagall, and Sinistra, the respective Heads of the two houses, and there (Ronnie groaned inwardly) there came Lockhart as well.

"I say, is there a problem?" said Lockhart, looking rather unashamedly good even in the pouring rain. "Rowdy Bludger giving you a bit of a headache, eh? Well, not to worry, I know just the charm to calm it down a little... Er... That is..." He froze in the middle of pulling out his wand, and took a few steps back as Professor Flamel suddenly showed up next to him.

Lockhart and Flamel looked at one another for a brief second.

"...that is," Lockhart continued in what he probably thought was a casual tone, as he took a few steps back, "I see you have it well under control. Yes, mustn't crowd you, come on, everyone, break it up, the Headmaster has everything under control!"

"How the ruddy hell did yeh get 'im ter back off like tha'?" said Hagrid, looking at Flamel with astonishment on his face.

Flamel, however, just shrugged. "I notice he does not like to be around me. I do not know why. But right now, I do think we have, how do you say, more pressing matters to worry about."

"Professor Dumbledore," said Ronnie, managing to cut through the crowd and stand before the Headmaster. "Someone's after Harry! That Bludger's connected to You-Know-Who...! You have to call off the match!"

"Call off the match?!" Wood was livid.

"I don't need to be protected," Harry insisted.

"Actually," said Dumbledore mildly, "if the equipment has been sabotaged, and it certainly seems that way, then I cannot in good conscience let the match go on. Quidditch is traditionally a rough game, and injuries will happen, but let us not let sabotage be the reason."

He tapped his throat with his wand and then turned around to face the stands. His voice boomed out, almost as loud as Hagrid's: "Due to the discovery of sabotage on the equipment, the rest of the match between Gryffindor and Slytherin will regrettably have to be postponed until further notice."

There was a collective groan from the stands, and a few students booed. The Slytherin team all looked sour.

"I know it is a disappointment," Dumbledore boomed, "but the good news is that there will be a rematch later this month, when all equipment has been checked and clear for use. With any luck, the weather will have improved by then as well!"

Some of the students, at least, seemed a little consoled by this, but the Slytherin team were glaring at the Headmaster.

"And I suppose," said Marcus Flint acidly, "that the goals scored by Slytherin in this match will be null and void for the new one?"

Dumbledore tapped his throat with his wand again, and turned towards him with a warm smile. "Oh, I hardly think so," he said. "Goals scored fairly and squarely should of course still count, wouldn't you say, Madam Hooch?"

The flying teacher, peering through the rain with her hawk-like eyes, nodded. "The score is currently thirty-nil to Slytherin," she said. "Of course the rematch will start with that score."

Flint blinked. "Oh," he said. "Well, all right then."

"But might I say, Mister Flint," Dumbledore continued, "that I am impressed at your suggestion to count those goals null and void. You are a true sportsman, and a credit to the Slytherin team, to want to give your opponent that chance."

"Er." Flint looked completely dumbfounded at this unexpected praise. "Yes. Well. That is. Sportsmanship and, yes. Right. What are you lot standing around here for!" he suddenly barked at the rest of the team. "To the showers! All of you!"

The Slytherin team all jumped to obey, though Malfoy couldn't resist hurling a "see you later, Potter!" as he scampered off.

"Right," Wood sighed. "I suppose we'd better hit the showers as well, team. Good job, all, despite everything. Nice flying, Harry. For the pick-up, we'll crush the Slytherins, right?"

"Right!" the team, including Harry, chorused.

"Wha' should we do with this?" Hagrid was still holding the Bludger in his hands. It seemed to have calmed down now, but Dumbledore didn't take any chances; he pointed his wand at it and levitated it out of Hagrid's hands, keeping it suspended in the air a few feet in front of himself.

"I shall take it to my office," he said, "and try my utmost to see what exactly was done to it. Nicolas, Minerva, Aurora — would you care to accompany me?"

Flamel, McGonagall and Sinistra all nodded.

"And Hagrid, would you mind waiting for the teams and escort them back to the castle once they come out of the shower?" said Dumbledore. "I doubt anyone will try attacking Harry again at the moment, but — just in case."

"O' course, Professor Dumbledore, sir!"

"As for you," Dumbledore looked at Ronnie and the rest of the Gryffindors who were still gathered there, and gave them a smile. "Why don't you accompany us back to the castle and then retreat to your common room. You will catch your death of cold if you keep standing here in the rain."

It was a comfortably dry Potter's Gang (minus Harry but plus Ginny and Colin) who reached the portrait of the Fat Lady a few minutes later. This time there hadn't been anyone waiting at the main entrance with towels, but Dumbledore had declared that they "probably shouldn't give Mister Filch any more work" and had waved his wand to quickly dry them all out.

Hermione was determined to learn that charm for herself. "It doesn't seem too complicated," she said. "And it would save us all a lot of time in situations like this."

Ronnie couldn't resist teasing her a little. "Yes! We could shower with our clothes on! And then dry out with magic! Body and clothes, clean and dry in one go!"

"That," said the Fat Lady from her portrait on the wall, "might be the most disgusting idea I've heard in some time."

Ronnie giggled. "Password's still 'wattlebird,' right?"

"Hmm." The Fat Lady looked at her with disapproval, but the portrait still swung aside to reveal the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. A number of the other Gryffindors were already there, talking about the disappointing Quidditch match and speculating about who might have fixed that Bludger which seemed so intent on killing Harry — and, surprisingly, Parvati was waiting by the entrance.

"Hi, Parvati," said Ronnie. "What's —"

"Where's Harry?" Parvati interrupted her.

"Er. Shower, I think," said Ronnie. "He'll show up soon enough, if you wait."

"No," said Parvati. "No. No, it's not him I — Ronnie, there's something — oh, just come on!" She suddenly grabbed Ronnie's hand and pulled her in along the short hallway that led to the common room proper, and across the room towards the round door that led to the spiral staircase towards the girls' dormitories.

"Wha — Parvati, have you gone mental?!" Ronnie stumbled and struggled to keep her balance as the girl pulled her along.

The others followed suit, of course; Ginny up front and the rest close behind.

"What's going on?"

"Parvati —"

"What do you want Ronnie for?"

"Is this about —"

"Colin, no! Don't go up those stairs!"

That last warning had been Hermione's, but it came too late. Colin had overtaken the others and was close on Ronnie and Parvati's heels, halfway up the stairs — when it happened. There was a loud, wailing sound, and the steps all melted together to form a long and incredibly slippery stone slide.

Ronnie, Parvati, Ginny and Colin all tumbled and fell, before sliding back down at great speed, colliding with Neville at the bottom of the newly-created slide, and ending up in a confusing heap by the feet of Hermione, who alone had managed to stay upright.

"Boys aren't allowed in the girls' dormitories," she sighed.

"But — you've been in the boys' dormitories," Colin protested weakly from the bottom of the pile.

"Yes, well, the Founders were rather old-fashioned about that," said Hermione, sounding a little embarrassed. "It says in Hogwarts: A History that they thought girls were more trustworthy."

"Or they wanted the girls to take a bit more initiative," said Ronnie. "Colin, gerroff."

They all managed to untangle themselves from one another and get back onto their feet (and Ronnie suspected that she wasn't the only one internally cursing the Founders for this stupid charm — something told her that they in the eagerness to keep the boys out of the girls' dormitories really hadn't thought things through), and Parvati spent an unusually long time brushing imaginary dust off her robe, refusing to look the others in the eyes.

"Well," said Ronnie, brushing aside a stray twig of hair from her eyes and looking at her embarrassed dorm-mate. "Now we can't go up until the stairs reform, so mind telling us what that was about?"

Parvati finally met her eyes again. "Well... there's a house-elf in our dormitory," she said.

"...oh?" Ronnie wasn't quite sure why this would have Parvati's knickers in a twist. Fred and George had once said that there were several house-elves at Hogwarts, who did the cooking, and the cleaning that old Filch couldn't, so that one would be in the dormitory wasn't too surprising — well, the fact that it had let itself be seen was perhaps a little strange, since house-elves generally stayed out of sight, but still...

"Yes, and he wants to see you," said Parvati.

"Me?!" Ronnie blinked. "Why does a house-elf want to see me?"

"I don't know! I found him — well — er... I went up to the hospital wing to see Lavender, like Ginny said..."

"How was she?" said Colin.

"Petrified," Parvati answered with a sigh. "Hermione was right, I don't think she ever knew I was there. But there was this house-elf, and he was waling about something and punching himself, and he was surprised to see me at first, but then he asked if I was a friend of, er Harry Potter's, er, Miss Wheezy."

"Wheezy?" said Colin.

"Weasley."

"Oh, right."

"But —?" Ronnie cut herself off, because all of a sudden, she remembered Harry's story from this Summer; how a barmy house-elf had showed up and got him into trouble, which was really when all the problems of this year had started. What had Harry said that elf's name was, again? Dibble? No. Droopy? Dopey?

"Dobby!" Ginny exclaimed, clearly remembering the same story. "Is the elf's name Dobby?"

"Yes!" Parvati nodded, looking surprised. "How did you know that?"

Ronnie and Ginny looked at one another. "Harry told us he'd met a house-elf named Dobby," said Ronnie, deciding to make it simple. "But what's he doing here? And wanting to see me?"

"And if it's a boy elf, how come he's in the girls' dormitory?" said Colin, before being shushed by Hermione.

"How should I know? I couldn't get any sense out of him!" said Parvati in an exasperated tone. "He just wanted to talk to you, and I was hoping that maybe you could get him to — oh!"

The "oh" part was in response to the loud thunk! noise that signalled that the staircase had finally decided to stop being a slide and was available to be used as a staircase again.

Parvati and Ronnie exchanged glances. Usually they didn't have very much in common, but at the moment they were perfectly in sync. As one, they bolted and began rushing up the stairs. (The footsteps behind them clued Ronnie in that Hermione and Ginny were following them — the fact that the staircase did not turn into a slide again suggested that Neville and Colin weren't.)

Ronnie reached the second-year dormitory first, and rushed inside to see...

...a knobbly and skinny little creature with bat-like ears, huge eyes and a long, thin nose, sitting on her bed, and, of all things, with Crookshanks in its lap.

The cat turned to look at her, with a somewhat triumphant look in his yellow eyes, of the kind he usually got whenever he was pleased with something he'd done.

For the first time in her life, Ronnie found herself face to face with a real, live house-elf. It looked skinny and scraggly, and decidedly less cute than the illustrations in the books Mum had read to her when she was younger — and the pillowcase it was wearing as its clothing was old and torn in several places — but a house-elf it was.

"Hello, Miss," said the elf in a high-pitched, slightly trembly, but definitely male voice. "Hello, Misses," he added as, in short order, Parvati, Ginny and Hermione joined Ronnie by the door. "Dobby would raise himself and bow, Misses, but Mister Kitty seems to not want Dobby to move."

That was a surprise. Though Ronnie knew from experience how hard it could be to get Crookshanks off your lap if he didn't want to move, she had heard about house-elves and how absurdly powerful their magic could be. She didn't doubt for a second that if this Dobby had truly wanted to move, he wouldn't have had any problems getting Crookshanks off him. For some reason, he was letting Crookshanks keep him down... and Crookshanks was perfectly aware of this.

"That's... You're a house-elf?" said Hermione, her eyes wide.

"Indeed, Miss, indeed," said Dobby. "Dobby the house-elf. Dobby is sorry to impose, Miss, but Miss Parvitty —"

"Parvati," said Parvati.

"—Miss Parvitty says she would find Harry Potter's Wheezy."

Deciding that trying to correct him about the pronunciation of her name, Ronnie stepped a little closer to the elf. "Well," she said, "you have two Wheezys — Weasleys right here." She indicated herself and Ginny. "Why did you want to see us?"

Dobby looked down at Crookshanks in his lap, then back up at Ronnie, His bulging eyes were filled with worry. "You must tell Harry Potter," he said intensely, "that he must leave Hogwarts! At once!"

"What?!"

"Dobby warned Harry Potter this Summer, Miss, Dobby said Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts, but Harry Potter didn't listen. Harry Potter returned to Hogwarts, even when Dobby tried to stop him. Dobby thought perhaps when Harry Potter missed the train to Hogwarts, he would see —"

"Wait," said Hermione, frowning. "How did you know Harry missed the train?" It looked like something dawned on her, and when she spoke again, it was in the tone of someone who had finally figured out something that she'd been mulling over for a long time. "It was you, wasn't it? You were the one who blocked the barrier to Platform Nine-And-Three-Quarters, so Harry and Ginny couldn't get through!"

Dobby's lower lip trembled a little, but he nodded. "Dobby hid and watched for Harry Potter, and when Harry Potter arrived with the littlest Wheezy, Dobby sealed the gateway."

"You prick!" Ginny snapped. "We ran straight into the barrier! It bloody hurt!"

"Dobby is sorry, Miss," Dobby squeaked. "Dobby had to go iron his hands afterwards —" (He held up his hands, which were still heavily bandaged) "— but Dobby didn't care, Miss, for he thought Harry Potter would be safe if he did not get to Hogwarts! Better hurt than dead, Miss! But then Dobby found out that Harry Potter had still gone to Hogwarts anyway —"

"Of course he did!" Ronnie frowned. "You think we would have left him behind?"

Dobby looked at her, with an almost sad expression. "The Wheezys is noble and kind," he said. "The Wheezy family takes Harry Potter to their home, treats him like family, loves him like family. Dobby understands, Miss. That's why Dobby must ask you to tell him to leave Hogwarts!"

"The hell I will!" Ronnie growled. This Dobby was really starting to annoy her.

"You must, Miss, you must! Harry Potter is in grave danger here at Hogwarts! Harry Potter will not listen to Dobby, will not see sense even when Bludgers attacks him —"

"That Bludger was your doing?!" Ronnie had to restrain herself from attacking the elf right there and then. "You could have killed him with that, you bastard!"

"Not kill, Miss, never kill!" Dobby looked genuinely upset at the thought. "Maybe hurt, a little. But better hurt than dead! You doesn't know the terrible things going on at Hogwarts this year..." He looked around nervously, as if someone was listening, and continued in a softer voice: "Terrible secrets, Miss. Secrets of the past coming back to haunt the present."

"Secrets of the past?"

"Dark deeds is planned! Dangerous and horrible!" The elf looked around again, clearly terrified of something. "Dobby comes to Hogwarts and finds they has already started!"

The four girls looked at one another. "The... Petrifications?" said Parvati.

Dobby nodded vigorously. "Poor little girl in the hospital wing," he said, his voice cracking a little. "Dobby thought he might could help her... but the magic is too strong, Dobby cannot wake her up!" He let out a loud wail of despair and grief.

Just like that, Ronnie's anger at the miserable little creature vanished. He'd been trying to help Lavender. He'd been trying to help Harry too, he'd just been incredibly stupid about it. After a certain instance with a flying car, Ronnie could sympathise.

She moved closer to him, sitting down next to him. For a moment, Dobby looked like he was about to raise himself, but Crookshanks shifted ever so slightly on his lap, and he remained seated.

"And 'tis only the beginning, it will get worse, so much worse!" he said, his voice back under control. "Harry Potter cannot, must not be here for that! Harry Potter is too good, too great, too kind!" A slight tone of awe crept into his voice. "Harry Potter once asked Dobby to sit with him... Like an equal..."

"That sounds like Harry," said Ginny, and Ronnie had to agree.

Dobby's tone of awe was replaced with his more normal worry and fear. "So Misses must understand that Harry Potter must not be here when the horrible things happens!"

"Yes, yes, all right, but what's going on?" Ronnie fought to stay calm and suspected she wasn't doing a very good job. "What horrible things? What's gonna happen that's worse than the Petrifications? Look, you want me to tell Harry to leave, but if I do he's gonna want to know why! And then it's not gonna help if I just say something vague about 'secrets of the past' or whatever."

"Harry Potter will listen to you," said Dobby. "You is Harry Potter's Wheezy. Harry Potter knows you loves him."

"I —" Ronnie felt herself turn pink.

"Please, Miss!"

"Is this about Voldemort's diary?" said Hermione, who had also come closer.

Dobby let out a loud wail of shock. "Speak not the name, Miss, speak not the name!"

"Fear of a name only increases fear of the —" Hermione began, but Ginny nudged her and shook her head. And for once, Hermione did not finish her favourite quote about fear and names. "All right, I'm sorry," she said a little sheepishly before her voice got stronger again: "But it is, isn't it? Do you know who has the diary now? Do you know who's Petrified Lavender and the ghosts?"

"Miss doesn't know what she is asking Dobby," Dobby squeaked. "They is dangerous! Fifty years ago, when it happened last —" He made a half-choked noise and covered his mouth with his bandaged hands.

"This has happened before?!" Ronnie burst out. "And how d'you know all this?"

But Dobby shook his head furiously and pounded on his bald skull with both fists. "Dobby cannot say! Dobby cannot say!"

"Hey, stop that!" Ronnie grabbed the elf's bony hands to stop him from punching himself, as Crookshanks looked up at them with his yellow eyes."Calm down, will you?"

"We're all going to die, aren't we?" said Parvati in a small voice. "Or Petrified, like poor Lavender! I don't want to die before I'm even thirteen!"

"Parvati, you're not going to die!" said Hermione.

"How do you know that?" Parvati suddenly snapped. "This is the second year in a row that You-Know-Who is terrorising the school in some way, and the teachers can't do anything, and even Lockhart isn't doing anything, and — and I haven't talked to Padma in days, and Lavender is just lying there like she's dead, and I never thought I'd miss Peeves, but I do, I miss bloody Peeves playing pranks on everyone! This wasn't what I wanted when I started Hogwarts! I just — I'm sorry! I can't do this!"

With that, breathing rather heavily, she turned around and stormed out of the dormitory.

There was a brief silence, and then Ginny sighed. "I'll go check if she's all right," she said, and hurried after Parvati.

Ronnie and Hermione looked at one another, and then down at Dobby, who was still sitting on Ronnie's bed with a persistent Crookshanks in his lap.

"Dobby didn't mean to upset Miss Parvitty," the elf said miserably. "Bad Dobby! Bad —!"

"For the sake of Merlin's arse, stop hitting yourself!"

"Please, Miss, just tell Harry Potter to leave Hogwarts and ask no more!" Dobby squeaked, but he did stop hitting himself. "Please, ask not Dobby to betray his family's secrets!"

"Your family!" Ronnie could have punched herself just as hard as Dobby just had. Of course. It made sense. Dobby belonged to an arsehole family, but suffered from the disadvantage of not being an arsehole himself. And families would talk amongst themselves, and nobody ever knew, or cared, if the house-elf was listening in.

And what family did they know who were total arseholes, and would be rich enough to own a house-elf?"

"You're with the Malfoys, aren't you?" she said.

"Honestly, Ronnie, you and your obsession with —" Hermione began, but Dobby was so startled that he almost fell back.

"Miss knows?!" he shrieked.

A stunned silence fell over the dormitory.

"Yeah," said Ronnie, feeling very pleased with herself. "'Cause I deduce stuff using logic and reason. I'm like that Muggle girl Colin talks about, Shirley Holes!"

Hermione hid her face in her hands. "Shirley Holes..." she groaned.

"Yeah!" said Ronnie, nodding in great satisfaction. "That's who I am! So how 'bout it, Dobby? I know everything, so you're not betraying any secrets by telling me!"

Dobby looked like he was tempted, but then violently shook his head. "Dobby is sorry! Dobby can't say! Not even to Miss Shirley Holes!" He looked around desperately, as if trying to spot something he could hit himself over the head with. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you looked at it) the only thing within reach was a pillow — which he did make a grab for but apparently changed his mind about. Instead, to make up for it, he grabbed his long, thin nose and twisted it around, hard, until tears of pain welled up in his eyes.

"Why do you keep doing that?" said Hermione after regaining her voice.

"Dobby has to punish himself, Miss," Dobby explained. "Dobby is almost disobeying his family. If they knew Dobby was here, and talking to Misses..." He boxed his own ears to make the point. "Bad Dobby! Not a person must know the secrets of the Malf— of Dobby's family!"

"But —" said Hermione helplessly.

Something lit up in Ronnie's head. She really must be channelling her inner Shirley Holes, because she'd just had an idea.

She gently placed a hand on the elf's shoulder, making sure to keep her voice soft. "Dobby," she said. "We wouldn't make you betray your family. You shouldn't tell us anything. But..." She motioned to Crookshanks, who was still lying demonstratively on Dobby's lap. "You could tell him, couldn't you? He's not a person."

Elf and cat looked at one another.

"Mister Kitty could not tell Miss Shirley Holes anything that Dobby told him..." said Dobby slowly, and Ronnie could see that he was drawing the same conclusions she just had. "Kitties cannot talk to humans. Kitties cannot spread secrets."

"Exactly! So you wouldn't be betraying your family at all, would you?"

There was a brief smile on Dobby's lips, but then he turned towards her and said in a serious voice: "Miss must promise not to listen in!"

"Witch's honour!" said Ronnie hurriedly. "C'mon, Hermione, let's go see how Parvati is doing — oh, and you know where we haven't been in a long time? The library!" (She had to suppress a giggle at the shocked look Hermione gave her.) "I bet Harry's back from the Quidditch pitch now, we should go round up Ginny and the boys and see if we can look things up in the library together."

Hermione reached out and put her palm to Ronnie's forehead. "No," she said after a couple of seconds, "you don't seem to have a fever."

"Oh, quit that." Ronnie waved Hermione's hand away and instead placed an arm around her shoulder. "You're not upset because I'm borrowing your standard-solution of going to the library, are you?"

Hermione blinked. "Of course not, I'd be thrilled if you decided to love the library more, but —"

"Wonderful places, libraries!" said Ronnie, enjoying the rare occasion of her knowing more than Hermione did. "Very informative. Have a nice talk with Crookshanks, Dobby!"

"Dobby hopes he will see you again, Miss Shirley Holes!" Dobby called as she led Hermione out of the dormitory.

"What are you doing?" Hermione hissed as the door clicked shut behind them. "I know Crookshanks is clever, but what good is Dobby telling him the Malfoys' secrets going to do? If this is another one of your hare-brained schemes —!"

"Not hare-brained, but possibly cat-brained," Ronnie quipped. "Come on, Hermione, are we witches or not? I know there are spells that lets you talk to animals, and I bet anything that we can find at least one in the library!"

TO BE CONTINUED...

Author's Notes: Ronnie, Ronnie, Ronnie. "Shirley Holes." Honestly.

Okay, confession time: Part of why this chapter took so long was that I had to rewrite it three times... and part of the reason for that is that I hate Quidditch. Well, "hate" might be too strong a word; I find it extremely dull and uninteresting, and every time it shows up in canon I skim those sections. (Except the bit in Half-Blood Prince when Luna is the commentator!) I was actually pretty pleased that I managed to omit Quidditch entirely from the first Weasley Girl story — outside the minor running gag of Oliver Wood's frustration when Quidditch keeps getting cancelled, that is.

Originally I'd planned to continue this running gag; things would keep happening throughout the Hogwarts years that kept Harry from playing Quidditch, or the matches cancelled, and each time Wood would grow more livid... but in the end, the story didn't take that turn. Cancelling Quidditch before Harry got to play this year would just seem like a rehash of last year, and the way I'd kept mentioning Harry's amazing flying skills there was no way he wouldn't make the team. So I resigned myself to the inevitable and accepted that I'd have to write at least a couple of scenes where Harry actually played the ruddy game.

Thank goodness for Dobby and his rogue Bludger, because at least this way the Quidditch match got some plot relevance.

Also, fic title is quoted in this chapter! When I was still pondering what to call this fic, and making the first plans to what the plot would be; what parts of canon should remain the same and what parts should change, I had the distinct idea that Dobby, when he showed up, would use the phrase "secrets of the past" at least once. Because it sounded like something he'd say. I decided I liked the phrase and decided to promote it to fic title; especially since it fit in so well with all the secrets and hints of past goings-on that were in the plot.

So now you know!