Well… turned out you did have to wait several months for the continuation.

I recently switched my default writing program from Kingsoft Writer to Microsoft Word (largely because I got a year's free subscription out of the deal), and while Word certainly has its advantages, the transition has… not exactly been painless. Nothing is where I'm used to it being, customisation is awkward and often counter-intuitive, and — most frustrating of all — there was a hiccup in the saving that caused me to lose an entire almost-finished chapter.

Pretty infuriating, especially when the chapter was already giving me heaps of trouble and I was on the fourth rewrite. So it took a while for me to regain the energy to do a rewrite… and of course, the resulting chapter is almost nothing like the fourth rewrite, and definitely nothing like the first draft.

Anyway, this (in addition to the regular "been-busy-with-real-life" excuses) should hopefully explain at least partially why this chapter is so late. Still, to all of you who were worried about me and begging for updates: Thank you for your concern, and for your interest!

(If you haven't already read it, I did write a short-story back in February called The Leapling, which is about Ronnie's birth, and how she ended up with the name "Veronica." It also reveals the mystery of her middle name.)

Now, here's Chapter Fourteen.

WEASLEY GIRL: SECRETS OF THE PAST

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

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Memories And Mysteries

"Come on, Parvati!" Ronnie shouted through the closed door, pounding on the solid wood with her fists. "Open up!"

There was no answer.

"This is ridiculous," Hermione huffed, pushing past Ronnie, leaning against the door and raising her voice. "You can't stay in there forever! You'll get hungry, you'll miss all the lessons — Fay, you're at least slightly sensible, talk to her!"

"No!" came Fay's voice, a little muffled but just audible through the thick door. "We're in mourning in here!"

"Lockhart isn't dead, you idiots!" Ronnie fumed. "He's just Petrified! He'll be back to his normal annoying self once those damn Mandrakes are ready — really, you three, I thought you were better than this! Shutting yourself in just because some plonker you fancy's gone off to the hospital wing?"

"It's not that!" This time Parvati's voice sounded through the door. "Don't you get it? Whoever it is — whatever it is that's Petrifying people — it got the drop on Professor Lockhart!"

"So?"

"So what chance do we have? What chance does any of us have? We'll end up just like poor Lavender, every last one of us!" Parvati's voice lowered and became almost incomprehensible through the door, but Ronnie had the feeling she was holding back a sob. But then, with some more firmness, she added: "We're not opening this door for anyone!"

Ronnie and Hermione exchanged glances. "Maybe if we try to hunt up Parvati's sister," Ronnie said in a low voice. "Padma's in Ravenclaw, right, maybe she can talk some sense into her."

"I've been trying to talk sense into that airhead for more than a year," Hermione muttered. "Honesty, sometimes she's even worse than Lav—" she cut herself off, took a deep breath and then raised her voice: "We're going to have to get Professor McGonagall!"

"I don't care!" Parvati returned.

"She'll take every last point from Gryffindor!"

"So?"

"At least open the door for long enough that Hermione and I can get in!" said Ronnie. "What if we get Petrified? It'll be your fault for leaving us out of our own dormitory!"

There was a slight pause, as Parvati seemed to consider this. "Sorry," she finally said. "I'm not opening the door. You can hide in another dormitory. I'm sure Ginny will let you stay in hers."

"Or the boys," came Fay's voice. "You're always with them anyway! Might as well make it official!"

"We're not —" Hermione began, and then apparently gave up. She leaned wearily against the door, her face a study in mixed emotions; concern, annoyance and exasperation, with just the tiniest hint of a desire to just break down and cry.

"Honestly," she repeated, clearly struggling to keep her voice steady. "This can't go on. It's even worse than last year, when Voldemort and Quirrell were about. At least then we knew who was out there, and nobody had to stay in the hospital wing for months, and teachers weren't being attacked, and the others weren't being so — so silly."

Ronnie had to agree that at the moment she thought their fellow students were being pretty the Petrifications of Lavender and the ghosts had caused alarm, the reactions to Lockhart's Petrification seemed like they were going to be ten times worse.

It had only been a few hours since Lockhart's Petrification, and already rumours were spreading.

Professor Flamel had expertly used the Mobilicorpus charm to levitate the bodies of both the Petrified Lockhart and the unconscious Vernon Dursley, in order to take them from Lockhart's office and over to the hospital wing.

Of course this meant that he'd had to levitate them through the corridors, and of course this meant that they couldn't avoid being seen by portraits, teachers and students alike.

Harry, Ronnie, Luna and Hannah had gone along to the hospital wing, of course — but once both men had been settled down in the hospital beds, only Harry (as Vernon's family) had been allowed to stay. The girls had been shooed off by Madam Pomfrey, and Flamel had escorted them back to their respective common rooms.

On the way, they had passed several groups of sobbing, wailing girls, and been stopped by a group of Ravenclaws who demanded to know if it was true that Lockhart was dead.

It was enough to drive you up the wall. As if this wasn't bad enough without all this overreacting. And apparently not even Gryffindor, the house of the brave, was immune to this sort of idiocy.

At least Hermione hadn't gone off the deep end. Ronnie had often been annoyed at how her usually-so-clever friend had swallowed Lockhart's act so completely, and even more annoyed at that soppy, dreamy look Hermione sometimes got in her eyes when talking about that ponce — but when Ronnie had talked to the rest of Potter's Gang and told them everything that had happened, Hermione had remained calm and rational throughout. And she hadn't rushed off to lock herself in the dormitory with Parvati and the others.

Presently, Hermione straightened herself and turned to look at Ronnie again. "They'll come out," she said. "Within a few hours they'll calm down and they'll see how irrational they're being."

"Hopefully before bedtime," said Ronnie. "I'm not sleeping in Ginny's dormitory. We'd end up having to share her bed, and she kicks in her sleep."

"And of course, there's no Defence teacher again," Hermione sighed. "I'm starting to think that rumour about the Defence teacher post being cursed is true! Two teachers, gone in less than two years! None of us are going to pass any of the Defence exams!"

"We weren't going to pass any exams anyway, with Lockhart trying to teach," Ronnie muttered. "Look, Hermione, at least admit he was a rubbish teacher."

Hermione blushed and avoided Ronnie's eyes. "You've just had it in for him ever since those pixies attacked you in the first Defence class."

"And you've been drooling over him since he first gave you that stupid award-winning smile of his," Ronnie countered.

"I haven't been — You shouldn't talk that way about a man who's in the hospital wing!" Hermione blushed and refused to meet Ronnie's eyes.

"But he isn't dead," said Ronnie again. And because she was getting a little annoyed, she added: "You know, they put him next to Lavender. I saw that much before Madam Pomfrey chased me out of the hospital wing."

"What are you talking about?" said Hermione impatiently.

"Well," said Ronnie. "Lavender drooled over him much worse than you ever did. Bet she'd love it if she knew he was keeping her company while she was Petrified."

Hermione's head snapped back up. "If you think you're being funny —!" she began, but then cut herself off. "Where's Crookshanks?"

"Er. Down in the common room, I think," said Ronnie, a little taken aback at this sudden change of topic. "Ginny and Colin were playing with him. Why?"

"Because we're going to go down there right now, and I'm going to cast the Animaloqui Charm on you, and you're going to talk to your cat and find out exactly what Dobby told him! We've been putting this off for far too long!"

Ronnie's stomach twisted. Of course Hermione had already mastered that charm. She'd probably only pretended she hadn't, just to give Ronnie a chance to learn it herself. But now, what with everything that had happened, her patience was clearly at an end, and Ronnie really couldn't blame her.

So she didn't protest as Hermione dragged her off towards the stairs — though before they could so much as set foot on the first step, they had to stop to avoid colliding with Ginny.

The girl was rushing up the stairs, coming to a halt when she saw Ronnie and Hermione. "There you are," she panted. "You've got to come quick! Common room!"

"What?" Ronnie blinked. "What's happening? Oh no, is there another Petrification?"

Ginny shook her head. "Just come on!" With that, she turned and raced back down the stairs.

Ronnie and Hermione once more exchanged glances and hurried after her.

Already before they'd gone all the way down, the sound of excited voices reached them; something was clearly going on down there. Ronnie immediately recognised Colin's high-pitched voice over all the others, as he yelled: "Separate them! Take him out of the room!"

"But they're not doing anything," said another voice. "They're just looking at each other!"

"Five Galleons on the cat! Any takers?"

"Shut up, Fred!"

Ronnie entered the common room to see a group of students — among them Colin, Neville, Fred, George and Percy — gathered around one of the deep chairs by the fireplace. And on the backrest of the chair…

"Fawkes!" said Ronnie, her heart leaping.

And indeed; there was the familiar red-and-gold-feathered bird; one of the most beautiful animals Ronnie knew. He was Dumbledore's; one of very few domesticated phoenixes in the world. Phoenixes were usually shy and skittish and wouldn't let any humans get close to them, but Fawkes was different. He liked humans, and though he was utterly devoted to Dumbledore above everything, he didn't mind being around other wizards or witches either. And like so many other animals, he'd taken a particular liking to Ronnie and would perch on her shoulder whenever they met.

At the moment, however, he was busy peering down at the armrest of the chair, where Crookshanks was sitting and staring up at him with yellow eyes.

Cat and bird seemed locked in some kind of staring contest or possibly a mutual examination. Crookshanks in particular seemed perplexed; his bottle-brush tail twitching the way it always did when he encountered something new and unfamiliar, so he was clearly trying to work out what the hell kind of bird this was supposed to be.

"It's like the neighbour's cat back home!" said Colin. "He'll sit for ages watching the birds, and then all of a sudden, he pounces! And — oh, Ronnie!" he added as he noticed that Ronnie and Hermione had arrived.

Neville, who was standing right next to him, also looked over at the girls. "It's all right," he said to Colin. "Ronnie's got this. She's brilliant with animals."

"Yes, everybody calm!" said George dramatically. "The Mistress of All Animals has arrived!"

"Shut up, George," said Ronnie, feeling herself going pink. "What's going on here?"

"That bird just suddenly flew out of the fireplace and got into a staring contest with your cat," said Cormac McLaggen, who was scowling from one of the corners. "Why is it that every time something happens around here, you and the rest of that gang of yours are right in the thick of it?"

"And why is it, Cormac," said Katie Bell acidly, "that you keep complaining about them?" (She was in McLaggen's year, Ronnie remembered, and would probably have been subject to even more of his complaining than the other Gryffindor Quidditch players.)

"Everyone shut up!" said Percy in his best Prefect voice. "Ronnie, animals are your department. Please sort this out."

"Right," said Ronnie. "Thanks for that. It's all right, Colin, I don't think he's gonna attack. If he was planning on that, his tail would be moving in a different way. Crookshanks — Fawkes — hello."

The crowd parted to let her through. Even without the praise of Neville and Percy, Ronnie's skills with animals was well-known among Gryffindors, and (she was secretly rather pleased with this) by now everyone knew better than to come between her and an animal.

As she approached the chair, Fawkes looked away from Crookshanks and turned his head and let out a beautiful trilling sound in greeting. At once, he had lifted from the chair and, in one elegant motion he had flown over to Ronnie and landed to perch on her outstretched arm.

A few first-years were gasping in awe, and even a few older students looked impressed. Phoenixes weren't exactly everyday fare in the Gryffindor common room, and their skittish nature was well-known. For one to willingly seek out a human to perch on like this… well, the only other known phoenix to do anything like it was Sparky, the mascot for the Moutohora Macaws Quidditch team, and as far as Ronnie knew he had never been to Hogwarts.

As she felt the familiar weight of the phoenix on her arm, a sense of calm flowed through Ronnie. Fawkes always had that effect on her; while holding an animal in general tended to make her feel better about everything, with Fawkes the touch was magical; it was as if he radiated a sensation that everything was going to be fine and nothing was impossible.

No wonder Dumbledore could be so cheerful even in troubled times.

"Hello, Fawkes," Ronnie repeated, stroking his wonderfully warm feathers with a gentle finger. "Good to see you."

Once again, he trilled at her. Then, he shifted on her arm and extended one leg to her. Now she saw that he had a note tied to it.

"Oh," she said, understanding dawning. "Playing post owl, are you?" Carefully, she removed the note from the bird's leg, and — a little awkwardly, because she could only use the one hand — unrolled it to read:

Ronnie,
I regret not being there when you and Harry called on me earlier, but I was away from the school at the time. I would very much like to talk to you now, though, and am waiting for you in my office. I trust you do not mind me sending Fawkes to fetch you; he has been wanting to see you again.
- A. D.

"Dumbledore's back," said Ronnie, looking up from the note to meet the eyes of the questioning Gryffindors around her. "He wants me to come to his office — it's probably about Lockhart and Harry's Uncle. I'd better go with Fawkes, then…" She paused.

Hermione had scooped up Crookshanks and was holding him in her arms. The cat was still keeping his eyes on Fawkes, apparently still not entirely sure what to make of this strange new bird, but he didn't seem to mind being held by Hermione. This wasn't a surprise; of all the non-Ronnie girls in their dormitory Crookshanks had always seemed to like Hermione the best. And normally, Ronnie was happy that her cat and her friend got on so well. But right now…!

If she left with Fawkes, Hermione would do the Animaloqui charm and talk to Crookshanks. And… Ronnie didn't want her to. She knew she was being petty, but… she didn't want Hermione to be the first one who got to talk — really talk — with her cat.

She had already admitted as much to Harry that same day, when he had found her practicing the charm in that empty classroom. And Harry had understood, because he was decent like that. But Hermione? Wonderful though the girl might be in many respects, Ronnie didn't think she would have the patience for understanding.

"Tell you what, Hermione," she said instead. "Why don't you come with me?"

"Me?" said Hermione, stretching her neck to look at the note. "Professor Dumbledore doesn't say anything about me. And if it's about Lockhart or Harry's Uncle, I wouldn't be any help. I didn't even see them."

"No, but you're much smarter than me," Ronnie goaded. "If you hear everything Harry and I have to say, you'll be able to, y'know, deduce stuff from it."

"I doubt I could think of anything that Professor Dumbledore couldn't," said Hermione, though her cheeks turned a little red at the praise.

"Can we come too?" said Colin eagerly, bouncing up beside Ronnie and pulling Ginny and Neville with him. "I've never seen the Headmaster's office! Well, not here at Hogwarts, anyway. Back at my old Muggle school —"

"Now, hold on!" said Percy, stepping up in front of the crowd and crossing his arms. "The Headmaster's office isn't an open house! You can't just invite whoever you like to join you there!"

"Lay off, Percy," said George. "The Headmaster's a smart man, by now he'll have caught on to the fact that inviting one member of the famous Potter's Gang is the same as inviting all of them."

"That is the most ridiculous —" Percy began, but was interrupted as Fawkes once more opened his beak to let out a beautiful trilling sound, and spread his wings.

And then…

Everything was a whirlwind of fire. Ronnie felt herself swept up by a raging torrent of impossible heat and flame; she tried to gasp for her breath but she no longer had a mouth to open or lungs to take in air; she was burning, she was fire, she was —

Fawkes let go of her, and the world came back into sharp focus and she fell over, her body once more as solid and normal as the floor that came up to collide with her. And the four rather heavy bodies that consequently fell on top of her.

The wild ride was over, as soon as it had begun, and for a long moment Ronnie could do nothing apart from heave for her breath… and turn pink again as it dawned on her that someone's foot was on her arse.

And she was currently lying at the bottom of a pile consisting of — let's see —

"Whose knee is that in my back?"

"Ow! Go away, you're pulling on my hair!"

"Will whoever's got their elbow in my face move it before I hex it off?"

"Nobody move! I'm standing on my hands!"

— Neville, Hermione, Ginny and Colin.

"My goodness," came Dumbledore's voice from above. "I must admit I wasn't expecting this many visitors."

Ronnie struggled a bit to look up from her awkward position, but could see that the Gryffindor common room had vanished around them, to be replaced with the Headmaster's office, complete with the Headmaster himself standing above her.

And right next to the pile, Crookshanks was sitting and looking as casual as only a cat could. He'd clearly come along for the ride but had avoided the pile, probably by jumping out of Hermione's hands at the right time, and now he was nonchalantly licking his paws to demonstrate how this sudden Apparition hadn't bothered him at all, and how silly the humans were for ending up in a pile like this.

Fawkes, clearly pleased with himself, was circling over their heads with a triumphant trill.

After a few somewhat awkward and slightly embarrassing seconds of untangling, the small pile or wizards and witches got to their feet, a little dishevelled and more than a little embarrassed, but none the worse for wear.

The Headmaster's office hadn't changed much since Ronnie's last visit back in September; still littered with all sorts of magical devices that Ronnie could only begin to guess the purpose of, with portraits of the old Headmasters and Headmistresses looking down at them all from above. All of them were paying close attention to the newcomers; some of them looked amused; others were frowning at the antics.

Thankfully, Dumbledore seemed to be going more in the direction of amusement. He stood by his large desk, looking at them all over his half-moon spectacles. "Well," he said. "An unexpected crowd, but thankfully an unharmed one."

"We're sorry, Professor Dumbledore," said Hermione, of course the first one to speak. "We didn't mean to intrude like this — we just Apparated, didn't we? I've read that phoenixes are among the birds capable of Apparating, and I remember seeing Fawkes doing it last Christmas, but we didn't think that he would — Besides, I thought it was impossible for humans to Apparate on Hogwarts grounds —"

"Breathe, Hermione," said Ginny, who seemed to be the least shaken of them. "That was a sudden trip. Probably scared the living daylights out of Percy and the others that we vanished like that."

"My apologies," said Dumbledore as Fawkes landed on his outstretched arm and proudly ruffled his feathers. "I sent Fawkes to fetch Ronnie, but I did not anticipate that he'd decide to bring all of you."

Fawkes trilled happily — was Ronnie mistaken, or was that an almost Dumbledore-ish twinkle of mischief in his black eyes?

"That's all right!" said Ginny. "Sir," she added as she apparently remembered she was talking to the Headmaster. "A new experience, right?"

"It was so cool!" Colin squeaked. He looked dishevelled, his hair a mess, but his eyes were shining with excitement.

"A most Gryffindor attitude," Dumbledore smiled. "What about the rest of you? Are you all right after your, ahem, sudden trip? Nothing broken, I trust?"

"I think I'm fine," said Neville, and then added in a lower tone. "Except I feel like I've left my stomach back in the common room."

Ronnie knew exactly how he felt. She had never Apparated before in her life, but if this was what it was like, she never wanted to do it again.

She knew, of course, how some birds could Apparate, and that phoenixes (unlike, say, Diricawls or Golden Snidgets) were capable of taking other creatures along with them while doing so — though with the traditionally shy and skittish nature of the phoenix almost no humans had ever experienced this. She would probably feel very honoured about being one of the few when her stomach had settled properly.

"The sensation does take some getting used to," said Dumbledore. "I would not say Side-Along Apparition feels completely like doing it yourself, especially not the phoenix variant, but it is close enough." He carefully stroked Fawkes's head with a long finger. "Marvellous creatures, phoenixes. Highly intelligent and very magical. And as Hermione rightly pointed out, they are among the few animals that can Apparate; far better than us mere humans, at that. The Anti-Apparition Jinx on Hogwarts grounds means nothing to Fawkes."

Crookshanks, who had been cleaning himself on the floor for the duration of the conversation, suddenly jumped up onto the Headmaster's desk. There he stood, tail twitching very slightly as he looked up at Fawkes.

"Crookshanks!" Ronnie admonished. "No jumping on the Headmaster's desk! I'm sorry, Professor, he's just curious, when he flicks his tail like that it means —"

But Dumbledore just chuckled. "Quite all right," he said, reaching out to let Crookshanks sniff his hand and then gently scratch behind the cat's ear. "He likely has never seen anything like Fawkes before. I believe he comes from the Magical Menagerie? It's a wonderful shop, of course, with all kinds of fascinating animals, but I doubt they have any phoenixes."

He lowered his arm to let Fawkes hop down onto the desk, in order to let cat and bird greet properly.

"Careful!" Hermione gasped.

"It's all right," said Neville. "They're quite calm, look—"

Now face-to-face, Crookshanks and Fawkes were looking at one another. Next to each other the two animals made for a peculiar-looking pair. Fawkes was the epitome of elegance, with his scarlet plumage and long, beautiful golden tail, and he moved his head this way and that to look at the cat first through one eye, then the other. Crookshanks, by contrast, was stocky and unattractive, with a flat face and an expression that most humans would described as "eternally grumpy," but at the moment he was just stretching to sniff the unfamiliar bird.

Then, Fawkes flipped his long golden tail and clicked his beak once in what seemed to be a friendly acknowledgment, and Crookshanks sat down, half-closed his eyes and started to purr.

"And that's the official Crookshanks Seal of Approval," said Ronnie.

"That is good to hear," said Dumbledore. "The situation being what it is, I think my schedule is about to become rather packed. So I have once again asked Fawkes to keep an eye on you all — just as he did last year. I trust you have no objections to this?"

"No objections!" said Ronnie hurriedly. "Right, guys?"

Of course they didn't have any. Hermione, Neville and to a lesser extent Ginny had all come to know Fawkes from last year, and Colin just thought it was cool to have a phoenix around. Crookshanks looked at the bird, then at Ronnie, flicking an ear and cocking his head as if to say yeah, whatever.

"Very well," said Dumbledore. "With Crookshanks's permission, we shall call that settled." Then he grew a little more serious. "It is just as well you all did come along," he said as he looked them over. "Perhaps you can help cast a little light over something that has perplexed me."

Ronnie braced herself. He was going to ask how they had known something was up in Lockhart's office, not once but twice. And they would have to confess to him about the Marauder's Map.

"Do you know if anything is bothering Harry?"

...okay, that one she hadn't expected.

"Other than the obvious, I should say," Dumbledore clarified. "We are all going through some troubled times, and Harry, once again, seems to be dragged into it. When I talked to him just now, and he informed me of your trip to Hagrid's, and what you had learned about Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew. Combined with the discovery of his Uncle, it's only natural that he would be troubled. And yet I got the feeling there was something more, something he either didn't want to, or felt he couldn't, share."

Ronnie immediately thought of the voice Harry had heard on and off, always before the attacks. He had chosen not to tell anyone outside Potter's Gang about it, and Ronnie had agreed with him; after all, hearing voices that nobody else could hear was never a good sign. Just as she was about to say something, however, she remembered something else. There had been times when Harry looked like he wanted to tell her something but then apparently thought better of it.

The latest instance had been that very day, when he had come to show her the picture of the Marauders. He'd said there were two things he'd wanted to talk to her about, but they had never got around to the second thing because they'd got too caught up in the revelation that Wormtail was on the picture. He'd said he'd tell her about it later, but since then there just hadn't been any time for that.

She looked at the others. They seemed hesitant as well, so she ended up saying: "Er... not sure, sir. We could talk to him?"

"I would appreciate that," said Dumbledore. "It may be nothing of course. Then again, it may be something. I don't necessarily have to know about it, if he would rather I not. But I thought perhaps I should ask you, his friends. If there is something that is troubling Harry, he might appreciate a friendly ear or ten."

Ronnie nodded. "Where is Harry now, Professor? Do you know?"

"Certainly. Harry is in the hospital wing with his Uncle," said Dumbledore. "He asked to stay with him until curfew, and I saw no reason to deny his request."

Ginny looked like she was about to say something, but then apparently thought better of it, glancing at Dumbledore and turning slightly red.

"Please, Ginevra," said Dumbledore. "If you have something to say, feel free to say it. Sometimes, the old and wise have a great deal to learn from the young and inexperienced… especially if the young and experienced is speaking from the heart. Respect for one's teachers is of course vital, but time comes when protocol and etiquette must take a back seat. In short — for as long as you are here in my office, consider permission granted to speak as you will. That goes for all of you."

"Oh. Well." Ginny was still a little red. "I was just a little surprised that Harry would want to stay with his Uncle. No disrespect, sir, but he wouldn't have done the same for Harry. Not on your life. "

"You didn't see the bloke, Ginny," said Ronnie. "He looked… awful." It was weird; if she wasn't to count Death Eaters or Malfoys, she would have had some problems thinking of two men she'd have cared less for than Gilderoy Lockhart and Vernon Dursley, but now that they were in the hospital wing, one Petrified and the other unconscious… well, she wasn't certain she felt sorry for them, exactly, but still… she kind of got why Harry would want to stay with his Uncle at least for a little while.

"He did indeed look awful," said Dumbledore. "Whatever Vernon Dursley has done in his life — and I have no doubt his sins were numerous — it's clear that he has been through ordeals that I would not wish on my worst enemy. In fact, I had to talk to Harry about the possibility of having him transferred to St. Mungo's hospital."

"Is — is it that bad, sir?" said Neville, who had never met Vernon Dursley but still looked anxious on his behalf. "Is Mr. Dursley —?"

"He will live," said Dumbledore. "But I fear his mind has been rather addled by his ordeal. He slips in and out of consciousness, and when he is conscious it's impossible to get a coherent word out of him. He swings between begging for his wife's life and threatening to kill everyone around him unless they let her go. We have not been able to get out of him where he has been, who had him, or what happened to him and his wife. During his brief moments of lucidity, he does not even seem to recognise Harry. And first-rate Healer that Madam Pomfrey is, I fear Vernon Dursley needs more specialised care than she is able to give."

"So he's being taken to the Janus Thickey Ward," said Neville tonelessly. "Long-term spell damage."

"Is that where your parents —?" Hermione began, cutting herself off and looking down. "Neville, I'm sorry."

"It's all right," said Neville, though he looked rather uncomfortable. "Yeah, I know the ward. The Healers are nice enough. They'll take good care of Harry's Uncle." (Ronnie did notice that he said nothing about whether they would be able to help Harry's Uncle or not, but then having his parents in that ward for eleven years probably wasn't much basis for optimism there.) "And I know they've had Muggle patients before. Muggles hit by some nasty curses, that sort of thing."

"There has been a precedent," said Dumbledore. "And I am confident the Healers at St. Mungo's will not turn away a patient in need, even with the current anti-Muggle prejudices."

Even if it's the man who's responsible for them, Ronnie thought. And apparently responsible for opening the Chamber of Secrets, whatever that is. But she regretted the thought almost immediately after she'd had it. The Dursleys' treatment of Harry may have been what kicked off the new round of Muggle-hate among wizards and witches, but (as she was starting to realise) the Dursleys had not put anything into the mind of the wizarding world that hadn't already been there. Wizards in general… really didn't like Muggles.

As for the Chamber of Secrets? Hah. Whatever the person who had composed Vernon's message to Dumbledore had meant by that, clearly they were the sort to blame Muggles for absolutely everything rather than take some bloody responsibility themselves.

She didn't know if these thoughts had entered any of her friends. They certainly hadn't entered Colin, who at the moment seemed more concerned with his characteristic trait of looking on the bright side. "So he's going to be all right, isn't he? The Healers have all sorts of magic, they'll sort him out, and then you can ask him what happened to him! Actually," he added, looking at Dumbledore with some excitement, "I bet you already have a theory!"

Dumbledore smiled briefly at the boy's enthusiasm. "Several," he agreed. "But the problem with theories is that they are only worth so much if one has no evidence to back them up. On that note, there were a couple of things I had to discuss with Ronnie."

Ronnie blinked. "Er — yes, sir?"

"First of all," said Dumbledore, "I wanted to apologise for not being here when you and Harry came to call on me earlier."

"Oh. Yeah." Ronnie fidgeted. "Well, like you said, you're busy…"

"Indeed. But in this case I fear I was out on a fool's errand. You see, I had heard a rumour that a man up in Knockturn Alley had fresh Mandrake root for sale, and thought I owed it to Miss Brown and the ghosts to investigate personally."

Neville's eyes widened. "Did you —?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Alas, it truly was too good to be true. The so-called 'Mandrakes' turned out to be mere Transfigured rutabagas."

Neville's face fell.

"An impressive Transfiguration, to be certain," said Dumbledore, "but the results were quite useless for Restorative Draughts. And of course, when I returned, I discovered that even more Restorative Draught is now needed." He sighed. "Poor Gilderoy. He really is not cut out to be a teacher. It may be that I could have hindered what happened if I had been present at the time… but I suppose that is something we will never know. Would that things were different than they are…"

For a moment, there was a wistful look in his eyes. But then he seemed to return to normal. "But, there is no point in crying over spilled potion, is there." He turned his eyes back onto Ronnie. "I wanted to ask you if you are absolutely certain that the man you saw in his office back in September was Peter Pettigrew?"

That was a surprise question if Ronnie had ever heard one. But — of course; Harry must have informed Dumbledore about the recent developments in the Wormtail case. Of course Dumbledore would want to know. She pictured the fat, watery-eyed little man in her mind. "Must've been," she said. "He looked like the boy in Harry's picture… older and losing his hair, but yeah. Same bloke."

"In that case," said Dumbledore, "would you allow me to view that memory?"

"You want to look inside my head?" Ronnie wasn't certain if she liked the idea.

"Not exactly," said Dumbledore. "Allow me to show you something." He pulled his wand out from his robes, and flicked it in the direction of the far wall. One of the cabinets — an impressive-looking black one — opened its door as a strange grey bowl or possibly a basin came flying out of it. The bowl sailed elegantly through the room, over their heads, and landed gently on Dumbledore's desk, without touching Fawkes or Crookshanks in the process.

Everyone looked at the bowl as it came to a rest. It was rather shallow and made of some kind of stone, and all around its edge weird runes and symbols were carved in.

"I have a cereal bowl back home that looks kind of like that!" said Colin, clearly unable to keep quiet any longer, despite harsh looks from Ginny and Hermione.

Dumbledore just chuckled. "Doubtless it could be used as one, in the unlikely event that the kitchen should ever run out of crockery — though the Headmasters of old would probably be appalled at the idea." (And indeed, several of the portraits looked shocked at the suggestion.) "This is a Pensieve. The oldest one still in existence, in fact. Legend has it that the four Founders of Hogwarts found it half-buried in the ground on the very spot they had decided to erect the school."

"Oh!" said Hermione. "I read about that in Hogwarts: A History! The Hogwarts Pensieve has been used to preserve memories and experiences of Headmasters and Headmistresses for centuries back!"

"Accurate as always, Hermione," said Dumbledore. "Observe." He raised his wand and placed its tip to his temple.

Everyone, even Crookshanks and Fawkes, watched as he slowly pulled the wand away, and with it came a long, thin strand of a glistening, silvery-white substance. At first it seemed almost like he was pulling out a strand of his hair, which of course was long and had the same silvery colour — but as the wand pulled the strand free of his head, they could see that it wasn't quite substantial, almost like it was the ghost of a strand of hair.

Dumbledore carefully moved his wand over to the stone bowl and let the strand fall down into it. Immediately it melted together and gathered like a glistening little pool of not-quite-liquid.

"That's a memory?" said Colin, looking about twice as awed as any of them.

"Indeed," said Dumbledore. "A very recent one, in fact. I had a little talk with Professor Flamel just after my return from Knockturn Alley."

He prodded the liquid-like substance with his wand, and almost immediately, a figure rose up from it, growing until, plain as day, the ghostly image of Professor Flamel was standing right there, his feet still in the bowl. He began to revolve slowly while looking straight ahead, ignoring all of them.

"Yes, Albus," said Flamel, his voice distant and echoing as if he was speaking from the bottom of a well. "It was plain to see that Monsieur Dursley was under the Imperius at the time, though he was trying to fight it. I could not, however, tell who had placed the curse on him or how long he had been under it, and the curse was broken as soon as he had delivered that message."

Crookshanks had raised himself and was looking at the figure, trying to sniff at it. Apparently the memory didn't have the right smell, because he raised his paw to bat testingly at Flamel. The paw passed harmlessly through the figure, and seconds later Flamel shimmered and shrank back down into the Pensieve, causing Crookshanks to back off in surprise.

Fawkes, clearly more used to this sort of thing, just gave Crookshanks an amused look, as Ronnie reached out and picked the cat up to hold in her arms.

"As you can see," said Dumbledore, "the Pensieve can recreate memories to perfection, replicating details we ourselves did not even notice on the first time, even revealing information we never knew we possessed. If we needed to, we could even enter the memory and re-live the situation exactly as it took place."

"Harry's Uncle was under the Imperius, sir?" said Neville, who had gone a little pale. "I mean, yes, it would make sense that he was… but Professor Flamel sounded like he was absolutely certain."

"That is one of Professor Flamel's many talents," said Dumbledore. "After more than six hundred years as a wizard, he has developed a certain knack for spotting whether someone is currently under a curse or not, at least if he gets close enough to them. I believe he says it's something about their eyes."

"All right," said Ronnie, eager to get the discussion away from the Imperius (Don't think about the Imperius!) and holding her cat close. "So you can store your memories in that thing! And you want to put mine in there too?"

"Only if you will allow it," said Dumbledore. "I realise that memories and thoughts are very personal things, and one does not always wish for others to sort through them… Indeed, when I was a student here, I would have been quite horrified to have my old Headmaster viewing my memories, so I shall not think less of you if you decline. But it would be an advantage if I got to see your memory of Peter Pettigrew for myself."

"Couldn't you take Harry's Uncle's memories?" said Colin. "Then you could see for yourself where he was and who had him!"

"Alas," said Dumbledore. "Thoughts and memories are tricky things. The Pensieve can in theory receive and display anyone's memories, but reliable memories require a consenting and cooperating participant. At the moment, Vernon Dursley is capable of neither consent nor cooperation."

"Okay," said Ronnie, taking comfort in the bird on her shoulder and the cat in her arms. "I'll do it. It — it doesn't hurt, does it?"

"Not in the least," Dumbledore assured her. "Thank you, Ronnie. Focus on your mind on the memory of Peter Pettigrew, please."

Ronnie closed her eyes and focused, once again picturing the form of Wormtail (she still couldn't think of him as anything other than "Wormtail") such as she had seen him in Lockhart's office.

"Are you concentrating on the memory?" said Dumbledore's voice.

"Yes."

Ronnie felt the light pressure of a wand tip on her temple, and then the image of Wormtail faded as if it was being sucked out of her head. She opened her eyes just in time to see the long silvery thread that was her memory being pulled away, attached to Dumbledore's wand. Where Dumbledore's message had just been a short, thin thread, this one was thicker and longer, and tingled slightly as it was pulled out of her head.

Crookshanks followed the memory strand with his eyes. For a moment he looked like he wanted to bat at the memory with his paw, but apparently he thought better of it.

Once more, Dumbledore added the memory to the Pensieve, and once more it melted into a liquid substance, pooling together with the other memory in the basin. This time, however, the amount of liquid substance was notably larger; this time the memory filled up nearly a third of the Pensieve. Either it was bigger and more detailed than Dumbledore's, or Ronnie's memories just took up more space.

For a moment Ronnie wondered if the two memories in the Pensieve would get mixed up and perhaps create a kind of Wormtail-Flamel hybrid — but this thought vanish almost as soon as it had arrived, because now Dumbledore placed his wand down and placed his hand on either side of the Pensieve, swirling it around.

The surface of the pool shimmered and went from silvery-white to an image of Wormtail, just as she had seen him in Flamel's office, shaky and twitchy and watery-eyed. Surprisingly, now that she saw him again he didn't look quite as she remembered him. Somehow in her mind she had pictured him as a much older man, but no — despite the fact that he was clearly losing his hair he had to be younger than Dad. But it was the same bloke; that posture and those eyes were unmistakable.

It got a little crowded around the Pensieve as everyone leaned in to get a better look, but the image was clear and sharp: Wormtail was standing in Lockhart's seemingly-empty office, looking nervously around himself before he seemed to relax a little and cautiously moving backwards towards Lockhart's large, stuffed chair.

"Nobody's there," he murmured as he slid down into the chair, his voice as distant and echoing as Flamel had been, but that high-pitched squeak was still unmistakable. "Get a grip on yourself, Wormtail. Nobody knows. Nobody suspects anything."

As he moved slightly, the image rippled and vanished, the pool of thought going calm and silvery-white once more.

Ronnie gave a start. Just as Wormtail had faded away she'd got a good look at his right hand — and this time she clearly saw what she had missed back then: the index finger was missing!

Dumbledore looked up. His eyes were grave behind his half-moon spectacles. "Forgive me, Ronnie," he said. "When I first heard your claim to have seen Peter Pettigrew, I thought you must be mistaken. It has been more than a decade since anyone last saw that man alive, and for him to suddenly show up here at Hogwarts… it seemed unlikely, not to say impossible. But, that was indeed the man.

"And he was missing a finger," said Ronnie, feeling strangely vindicated that for once one of her own theories seemed to be proving right. "That pretty much proves he faked his death back then, doesn't it? If all they found back then was his finger —"

"— then we just found the rest of him!" Colin cheered, as if he'd been there in Lockhart's office.

"So he cut off his finger and then pretended that the rest of him had blown up along with those Muggles?" said Ginny dubiously.

"But why?" said Neville. "Why would he do a thing like that? If the man who was after him was caught the same day? That doesn't make any sense!"

"Indeed it does not," said Dumbledore. "Nor does it answer where he has been all this time." He frowned. "I believe we need to look more closely at this memory. Ronnie, with your permission?"

"Er, okay."

"Excellent. Follow my lead." Dumbledore pocketed his wand and then leaned over the Pensieve.

As his head went down into the bowl there was a curious swooshing sound, and Dumbledore vanished.

Neville and Hermione gasped. Colin let out a slight yelp of surprise. Crookshanks backed away from the Pensieve, eyeing it suspiciously. Only Fawkes took it calmly; he just looked over at the Pensieve with a mild interest, as if he saw this sort of thing all the time.

"Where'd he go?" said Colin after a few moments.

"I think he went into the memory," said Ginny, sounding impressed. "I didn't know you could do that."

"Pensieves allow you to enter a memory and view it from within, as if it was happening around you," said Hermione, clearly quoting some book or other. "Should we…"

"He did say to follow him," said Ginny. She stepped up to the Pensieve, took a deep breath and plunged her head down into the basin. Again, there was a slight swooshing sound, and Ginny was gone.

Ronnie leaned over the Pensive. She peered down into the silvery not-quite-liquid to see if she could spot Ginny or Dumbledore swimming around in it, but there was no sight of them.

"Right," she said. "Ginny did it, so…" And, ignoring Hermione's outcry behind her, she followed her sister's example by taking a deep breath and plunged her head down into the memory.

Dumbledore's office lurched and tilted, and she found herself thrown forward and pitched headfirst into something surprisingly cold and dark. For the second time in less than an hour she found herself whirling and falling through nothing — though where Apparating with Fawkes had felt like burning up, entering the Pensieve felt more like falling into icy water.

Then, with a heaving breath, she came to a stop. She was standing on a solid floor, and Ginny and Dumbledore were right there next to her.

"Hi, Ron," said Ginny. "Nice place Lockhart's got here. Your descriptions didn't do it justice."

They were standing in Lockhart's office. It looked exactly like it had on that day when Ronnie had entered it under Harry's Invisibility Cloak, with its dozens of flickering candles, its multiple mirrors and over-saturation of Lockhart-centric posters, photographs and paintings. There in the small cage just by the door were the two grey rats that Ronnie now was almost completely certain were Harry's Transfigured Aunt and Uncle, and there, in the chair by the fireplace was Wormtail, who seemed to be asleep and paid no heed to the three newcomers in the room.

If it hadn't been for that detail, Ronnie could have sworn they were actually in Lockhart's real office. It looked real, it felt real. She could even hear the soft crackling of the fire in the fireplace and smell the faint hint of expensive hair-care products. And the missing finger on Wormtail's right hand was now so glaringly obvious that Ronnie wondered how she hadn't seen it the first time she'd laid eyes on the man.

"This is my memory?" she said in awe, looking at Dumbledore. "But it's so real — so detailed —"

Just then, she was interrupted as Colin landed beside her, and then was in short succession joined by Neville and Hermione. All of them were looking about themselves in fascination, looking about as overwhelmed after their icy-cold trip as Ronnie guessed she must have.

"How many people can you get into one memory?" said Ginny.

"I do seem to recall that the highest number of people ever to view the same memory at the same time was forty-two," said Dumbledore. "That was in the late fifteenth century, shortly before the establishing of the Statute of Secrecy. If someone has broken that record, I haven't heard about —"

He cut himself off as the door by the rat cage suddenly opened, causing the rats to turn and let out some squeaking noises, and Wormtail to jump out of his chair with a panicked look, pulling a shabby-looking wand from his pocket.

The small man stared right through Dumbledore and Potter's Gang, not acknowledging them with so much as a glance, panic turning to relief when he saw Gilderoy Lockhart enter.

"Here he comes," said Ginny.

"Where are you, Ronnie?" said Colin.

"Following under Harry's Cloak," said Ronnie. She strained to try and catch a glimpse of her past self, but it seemed the Invisibility Cloak was as effective in this memory as it was in real life — she couldn't see so much of a hint of any Veronica Weasley.

Wormtail, of course, ignored the exchange. He just lowered his wand and looked at Lockhart. "Gilderoy," he said. "You startled me. I thought it was — no, never mind." His voice sounded completely normal now; there was no trace of the echoing tone that he'd had when they had just seen him as an image reflected in the Pensieve.

"Dreadfully sorry," said Lockhart, in that flourishing tone Ronnie knew and loathed. "But I have to warn you that you had better change. I've got young Harry Potter coming here for a chat."

Wormtail reacted with more fear than Ronnie remembered. "Harry... P-Potter? No. Oh, no. Not him. Not Harry Potter. He can't see me. He'll know."

"But he doesn't have to see you," said Lockhart. "You can just —"

"I said no!" Wormtail screamed. "He can't see me in any form! You'll just have to go out and — and tell him you can't talk right now!"

"Me, tell Harry Potter I don't have time for him, when he's specifically sought out my advice?" Lockhart looked at Wormtail… and for a moment Ronnie thought she could see a trace of that weird look in his eyes that Luna had talked about earlier — but it was over so fast that she wasn't sure she hadn't imagined it.

"Fine, fine, just don't talk to him here," said Wormtail. "Take him somewhere else! Anywhere else! Just, just not here, not where..." he made vague motions with his wand towards the door.

They all watched as Lockhart exited with yet more pompous self-glorifications, and Wormtail looked around himself with nervous eyes. Ronnie knew that somewhere in this room was her past self, hidden from sight, but she had no idea where — she couldn't remember at all where she had been standing at the time and she really couldn't see anything.

Hermione was frowning. "That was an interesting conversation," she murmured, as Wormtail stared right at her without seeing her.

"Nobody's there," he murmured as he retracted to the chair and slid back down into it. "Get a grip on yourself, Wormtail. Nobody knows. Nobody suspects anything."

He remained seated there without moving.

"What did Lockhart mean by 'change'?" said Ginny. "And that part about 'any form'? D'you think —" she paused.

"D'you think he's one of those Animaguses?! I mean, Animagi?" said Colin eagerly. "If he can turn into an animal, he wouldn't have any problems disguising himself, would he!"

"I know he wasn't on the list over registered Animagi," said Hermione. "Could he —" she looked at Dumbledore. "Could he be an unregistered one?"

"I suppose it is possible," said Dumbledore. "Though becoming an Animagus is extremely difficult and requires years of hard work, especially if you do it in secret. I would not have credited the Peter Pettigrew I knew with the talent or the determination to manage… then again, I would not have thought he would fake his own death, either. Clearly, I didn't know the man as well as I thought."

"But if he's an Animagus," said Neville, "he could be any animal, couldn't he? That means he could hide anywhere. How are we supposed to find him then?"

"We can guess what animal he turns into!" said Colin. "It's all about what you're like on the inside, right? He's all nervous and stuff, so… he could be a jellyfish!"

"A jellyfish," said Ginny dryly.

"Yeah, or a chicken!"

"Hmm." Dumbledore was still examining Wormtail, his eyebrows raising in surprise as the little man suddenly jerked a little and was starting to sob.

It was an even more sad and pitiful sight than Ronnie remembered. Wormtail was crying silently, large tears falling down his cheeks as his shoulders shook.

"Maybe he's a weeping willow!" said Colin, Official Purveyor of Weird Ideas. "Is there such a thing as a Plantmagus?"

"God, I hope not." Neville murmured. "I enjoy Herbology."

From the other end of the room, the caged rats had started to make quite a bit of noise; they were squeaking and running around their cage — no doubt reacting to the invisible presence of past-Ronnie. How much of their human brains had Harry's Aunt and Uncle kept in this form, Ronnie wondered; had they when smelling someone new sensed a potential rescuer? For that matter, did Wormtail know that Lockhart was keeping Transfigured humans as pets, or did he just think they were normal rats?

No, she decided — he must know. When he swallowed his tears and looked up and towards the cage, he spoke as if to fellow humans: "What is it now? Going stir-crazy again? Well, chin up. That cage is quite big enough. I should know."

"He should know," said Hermione. "But wouldn't that mean —"

"Who's there?" Wormtail suddenly demanded, and in one swift motion he had raised from his chair and pulled out his tatty-looking wand, which he was now pointing straight at Hermione.

Hermione gave a start, but then all of a sudden one of the Lockhart posters on the wall was torn from its hanging place by an invisible force, accompanied by the unmistakable mad cackle of Peeves the Poltergeist — or, more accurately, of past-Ronnie imitating Peeves. "Lockhart looks better on the floor!"

Ronnie knew this would sound conceited if she ever said it out loud, but she was actually rather impressed with herself. That voice had sounded a lot like Peeves's; no wonder Wormtail exclaimed "Peeves!" and looked around in wild panic as one of the piles of Lockhart books was knocked over and fell to the floor in a pile.

Moments, later, the door to the office opened, and the wildly cackling 'Peeves' made 'his' escape.

"Peeves!" Wormtail called wildly. "Come back here! I can explain —!"

And then everything froze as the door slammed shut. Wormtail stood like a frozen statue, the two rats had stiffened; even the fire in the fireplace had stopped moving and was still like one of those non-moving Muggle pictures.

"Well," said Dumbledore, looking around at the frozen surroundings, which were starting to fade and growing darker. "I believe that concludes the memory. Most interesting viewing. It answers a lot of questions… and raises quite a few more." Then he smiled at Ronnie — or at least it looked like he smiled; with the darkness that was falling it was getting hard to see. "By the way, allow me to compliment you on your most convincing Peeves imitation. I believe it's one of the better ones I have heard."

"Er — thank you." It was almost pitch-black now.

"No reason for us to stand around in the darkness. Shall we?"

Ronnie felt someone tug on her arm, and then she was being pulled upwards, if a great wind was lifting her up off the ground. She shot upwards, once more feeling an icy-cold sensation around her before —

She landed on the floor in Dumbledore's office. They were all standing around the Headmaster's desk, the Pensieve in the centre, and everything was back to how it had been before their trip down Memory Lane.

Crookshanks, who looked like he had been circling around the Pensieve like a cat around a bowl of hot porridge, turned and let out a happy "Meow!" as he leaped from the Headmaster's desk and into Ronnie's arms, where he began nuzzling his head against her and purring up a storm.

"Oh," said Ronnie, beginning to pet him. "Were you worried about us? It's all right, Crookshanks, we were just viewing some old memories."

Colin nodded. "That was so cool!" he said; this seemed well on its way to becoming his catch-phrase.

"It was certainly enlightening," said Dumbledore, as Fawkes flapped his wings and took off to settle on the Headmaster's shoulder again, and be stroked by a long, thin finger.

"Was it really accurate?" said Ronnie. "I don't remember half of all that."

"Quite the contrary. You do remember it, otherwise it would not have showed up in the Pensieve." Dumbledore nodded at the silvery substance in the basin. "We still don't know one-hundredth of what there is to know about the human mind. But what we do know is that nothing we experience is ever truly forgotten or ignored. Our minds register and take in everything, in greater detail than we are even aware of. Hence, when a properly-extracted memory is displayed in the Pensieve, it will show things not as you think you remember them, and not even as you experienced and interpreted them at the time — but as they truly were. It can be quite a shock."

"I wasn't shocked," Ronnie murmured.

"Perhaps you were not," said Dumbledore, "but I will readily admit that I was."

Ronnie blinked. She had never seen anyone look less shocked than Dumbledore did.

"Seeing that memory," Dumbledore said, "has forced me to re-think most of my previous theories considering the Petrifications and Voldemort's diary. Not to mention… quite a few things I had previously taken for granted, and have thought of as fact for over a decade, must now be taken up to new consideration. Peter Pettigrew is alive… and has been in hiding for eleven years. Why does he show up at Hogwarts now? And why did he—?" His eyes suddenly widened. "Of course. Of course. That must be the answer."

"Er— what must?" said Neville, somewhat timidly.

But Dumbledore didn't appear to have heard. There was an expression of silent amazement on his face, an expression that — if he had been anyone other than Albus Dumbledore — Ronnie would have called complete shock. "Such a simple explanation," he murmured. "So simple, so obvious that no-one ever thought of it. But it explains so much."

Then, he seemed to snap out of it, and turned to look at them all. "Children," he said. "I just had a very alarming thought. If I am correct, it means that an innocent man has been subject to the most horrible torture for eleven years." He looked at Ronnie through his spectacles. "May I borrow your memory for a while? I shall of course return it to you as soon as I can."

"Well, I wasn't using it for anything anyway," Ronnie heard herself say, and then found it necessary to add: "Er — what do you want with it, Professor?"

"First of all, I need to view it again, to examine a few details a little closer," said Dumbledore. "Then, I want to take it to Remus Lupin to show him."

"Lupin?"

"He was one of Peter Pettigrew's closest friends at Hogwarts," said Dumbledore. "I think he needs to see this."

Ronnie wasn't certain she wanted just anyone to poke through her memory — but if it was only of her initial encounter with Wormtail, perhaps it wasn't too bad. It wasn't like she'd been doing anything too private. And while had never met Mr. Lupin, the letters Harry had shown her made him seem like a decent bloke… so she finally nodded. "That makes sense. Lupin's all right."

"Thank you," said Dumbledore again. He stroked his long beard as he looked at them all. "I think," he said, "that it is imperative that Peter Pettigrew is found as soon as possible. I do not know where he has been hiding for the past eleven years, but I am almost completely convinced that right now, he is hiding somewhere on Hogwarts grounds. And unless I am much mistaken, he is the key to all the mysteries."

"Do you really think he is an Animagus?" said Colin.

"It is a distinct possibility, but I think we can go a little further than that," said Dumbledore. "If you remember, he did not want Harry to see him in, to use his own words, 'any form.' That implies that whatever other form he has, it's one that Harry would recognise."

"So if he is an Animagus…" said Neville slowly. "…he would be an animal that Harry knows."

"And he talked about cages as if he was used to being in one," said Hermione.

"An animal Harry knows that spends time in cages," said Ronnie. And then she gasped. "He's Hedwig!"

There was a silence as everyone — even Fawkes and Crookshanks — looked at her.

"Well, think about it!" said Ronnie. "We've never seen the two together, and Harry would recognise Hedwig anywhere, and Hedwig has spent an awful lot of time in a cage because Harry's Uncle didn't want an owl flying loose. Say Wormt—I mean, Pettigrew, say he faked his death and then lived a decade as an owl, just to end up in Eeylops Owl Emporium, where he was bought by Hagrid and given as a pet to Harry!"

Crookshanks reached up and bopped her nose with a paw, and then gave her a scathing look that better than words told her what an idiot he thought she was being.

"It's not that stupid," Ronnie defended herself, feeling herself turning pink again over being told off by her cat.

"Ron," said Ginny dryly. "Hedwig's a female owl. Pettigrew's a man."

"So? Why can't someone's inner animal be the opposite sex? Don't tell me you've forgotten about cousin Jackie!"

"Cousin Jackie's not an Animagus!"

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "It's certainly an interesting theory," he said diplomatically. "I would not mention it to Harry until I was certain about it, however." He paused, and then once more took his wand out from his robes, holding it thoughtfully in his hand. "On that subject… perhaps there are a couple of spells I should tell you about. They are a little advanced, so you you might not be able to perform them straight away… but even knowing that they exist might be of some help."

Hermione beamed with the intense interest she always got when it looked like she might learn something new.

"Now," said Dumbledore. "Do stop me if you already know this one…"

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author's Notes: This chapter. This chapter. Has any other chapter of this story given me quite as much trouble? Four complete rewrites, countless minor rewrites, and so much rejected material that it would have been twice as long — and this is already the longest chapter of the story, beating out chapter eleven by a few hundred words. Not to mention, it's the first chapter without a single scene break, and the first chapter in which Harry doesn't have a speaking role. (He is in one of the rejected bits, which might be used in altered form in the next chapter.)

Come to think of it, the chapter of the original Weasley Girl story that gave me the most grief was also the one that ended up being mostly about Potter's Gang in Dumbledore's office, after an unsettling plot development. It seems like I just can't avoid "Dumbledore's office" chapters in this series but am exceedingly bad at writing them.

It did, however, give me the opportunity to spend a little more time with Neville, Hermione, Ginny and Colin, who have been absent for one and a half chapters. Since Harry is most closely tied to the plot and Ronnie is the POV character, there is a bit of a risk that those two get to dominate the story too completely — but I do try to give everyone at least some time in the limelight.

It also, finally, gave me the opportunity to write the meeting between the two coolest animal characters in the franchise: Fawkes and Crookshanks. I don't think the two ever meet in canon, and it's not that common to see them in the same scene in fanfics either. With how Ronnie bonded with Fawkes in the previous fic, however, a meeting between the two was inevitable.

Finally, two trivia notes:

It didn't come up in the chapter itself because there was no reason for Dumbledore to divulge that particular information, but the man who sold fake Mandrakes in Knockturn Alley was Mundungus Fletcher. If you remember way back in Chapter Two, Arthur commented that he had put the pursuit of Mundungus on hold because he'd just been told of his daughters' unofficial car ride. In canon, of course, Arthur did confront Mundungus (who tried to hex him while his back was turned) and managed to take him in — but in this universe, since Arthur blew off the night's ninth raid, Mundungus evaded capture, lay low for a while and at this time is back trying to make a quick Galleon by selling shoddy goods.

Oh, and if you've read Hermione Granger's Guide to Gender-Flip Fanfiction, you might recognise the "cousin Jackie" that Ronnie references: Jacqueline "Jack" Weasley was briefly mentioned in that fic as the Weasleys' male-to-female transgender cousin. She's specifically mentioned to be a non-canon character in that story, and probably won't actually appear in this story — but I thought I'd give her a brief mention here, explaining how Ronnie can be so certain that an Animagus's 'inner animal' can be of a different sex.