A/N: It's so odd. I used to have bundles to say before I started a new chapter. Now I just want to write the chapter. Lol. Enjoy! Adios!

-CatJetRat

P.S. I like Blonde! Pansy better than Brunette! Pansy. So she's blonde in my fic. With blue eyes.

Chapter 6

Back to Normal, Sort Of

DH

Normal POV

Harry slid into a seat next to Hermione at the Gryffindor table, Ron on her other side. Ron was still angry with Harry for shouting at Ginny, and Hermione was trying to bridge the fissure between them by making light conversation, but she was failing spectacularly. Harry focused on the Head table, feeling rather unnerved to see McGonagall in Dumbledore's seat. She met his gaze steadily, but her eyes faltered after a second and she looked away, slight anger blooming on her face. She wiped it away quickly, however, and stood up.

Silence fell, and all eyes turned towards her. Harry took a moment to glance around at the Great Hall. Over a quarter of the students hadn't come back, including Hannah Abbot, Susan Bones, Michael Corner, and some others. Ernie Macmillan was there, but he looked pale, and rather sleep-deprived. Several Slytherins were missing, including Crabbe and Goyle. Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott were there as well, along with Pansy Parkinson, who was as pale as Ernie. She looked much thinner now, and her face had lost its pug-like appearance. Her blonde hair had grown, and was hanging around her face in casual curls. She was sitting up straight, a look of firm superiority set on her face. Harry grinned slightly, reminded of Malfoy. Hermione was looking at the Slytherin table too, a small frown creasing the skin on her forehead.

"I thought there'd be fewer of them," she whispered to Harry. "I thought all the children of Death Eaters weren't allowed to come back."

"You know you shouldn't believe everything the paper says," Harry muttered back, continuing to survey the Slytherin table. There were indeed fewer students, but he agreed with Hermione. There were a lot more students than made sense, considering the number of children of Death Eaters. McGonagall began to speak.

"And so begins another year at Hogwarts," she said, voice as sharp and clear as ever. Her eagle-eyed gaze swept over the students. "After…last year, many thought the school wouldn't reopen. Indeed, many students did not come back. But that is meaningless!" Her voice rose impressively, and Harry could see students sitting up straighter in their seats. "This year is not a joke, and we will not let you slack off on your schoolwork because classes will be smaller. In fact, the rise of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is even more cause to do well. It is likely that some, perhaps even most of you, will have to face him or his followers at some point. For some, it is more likely than others." Her eyes fell on Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Harry couldn't resist giving her a faint smile, which she returned. "I will not say that I know you or your families will be safe, or even that the school will not be attacked again. I do not know. But we must fight. Because without that, there is nothing. Some of you have already felt the sting of war, and doubtless more of you will in the future. We cannot give up. It's all we have left. So go to classes. Do well on your homework. Take pride in what you have, and what you can become. There is little else to do. Fight in your own way, but never stop fighting. That's why we're here. To fight. And I will do as Dumbledore would have done. I will continue to teach as long as just a single student wishes to learn. And in this way, I fight. In this way, I can help to defeat Voldemort."

She fell silent, and Harry's heart pounded with pride as he looked at her. She wasn't looking at him, but Harry saw her shoulders raise, and her head turned up with dignity. Whispers scuttled along the tables, but Harry ignored them and grinned. Perhaps she could make a leader yet.

McGonagall sat down, and the Sorting Hat was brought out. Harry turned to it attentively, apprehensively, as the rip near the brim opened, and it began to sing.

Some have heard me sing a lot

For some it's the first time

But it matters not, what I've got

To say is of a different kind

Hard times lie ahead,

A new Headmistress has come

Some have already made their beds

Others have yet to decide on

Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff,

Gryffindor and Slytherin

Decisions, they can be tough

But this one's my mission

If you're intelligent, wise and good,

I'll lead you to Ravenclaw

You'll accomplish all you could

This many will applause

Those hardworking and kind

Will go to Hufflepuff,

And no oaths can you bind

Your friends will not be rough

While bravery and courage

Will sort you into Gryffindor

Beware some friends you could meet

They'll lead your enemies to your door

And lastly there is Slytherin

The House that many fear

But loyalty, cunning, and the bonds of kin

Make Slytherin a house to cheer

So I'll sort you true,

I'll sort you right

You can make friends anew

To keep you safe at night

But for others already here

Your friends may turn their backs

And enemies you used to fear

May embrace a new track

So enjoy yourselves in this night

Feast in the light the candles cast.

Make this night turn ever bright

For it may well be your last.

Harry was frozen, staring at the hat. It had given them all advice before, but never like this. Professor McGonagall was staring at the hat in absolute shock, uncertain of how to deal with the situation. Tonks solved the problem for her and began to read names off of the list of first years to be sorted, but Harry paid her no mind. He glanced at Hermione, who was looking over at the Slytherin table, murmuring underneath her breath, "'Enemies you used to fear may embrace a new track'….What does that mean?"

Harry couldn't take it anymore. "Hermione, come with me," he muttered, grabbing her hand and rising. She looked up at him, startled.

"Harry—what?" she said, but he shook his head at her and she followed him. Ron half-rose in his chair, but Harry shook his head at him and continued out of the hall, McGonagall shooting him a scandalized look. Harry ignored her, and Ron, everyone, really, and continued to pull Hermione out of the hall. He yanked her into an abandoned classroom.

"Goodness, Harry, what's so important?" she asked, face flushed. Harry cast a quick silencing charm on the room, and, for good measure, cast Muffliato as well. "Harry," Hermione said in a low voice, now looking much more worried, "What's going on?"

Harry sat on a desk, twiddling his fingers. "I hate to say this—but you can't tell Ron."

"Oh," Hermione's voice softened. "Oh, Harry, I understand. I was wondering when you'd tell me."

"You know?" Harry was flabbergasted. "How?"

"Well, I guess I'm just intuitive that way," she said, smiling.

"Huh?" Now Harry was really confused. "What are you talking about?"

"I—" Hermione faltered, and peered at his face. Whatever she saw there clearly didn't confirm whatever she thought he was talking about. "Nothing. Never mind. What do you have to tell me?"

Harry shook his head, not caring enough to try and figure out what exactly she was talking about. "It's about Draco Malfoy."

Now she looked really confused. "What about him?"

"He—he's alive."

"What?" Hermione breathed. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah." With that, Harry began to tell Hermione all that had happened over the past two days. By the time he was finished, Hermione had to sit down to ride out the shock.

"Incredible," she murmured. "They must have used really advanced spells to fool everyone, especially the Healers."

"Yes, but you see why we can't tell Ron?" Harry continued on anxiously. Hermione looked at him in some surprise.

"Well, of course. I mean, much as I love Ron as a friend, I understand his limitations. We won't tell him unless it's absolutely necessary."

"Thanks," Harry said in relief. He chanced a peek out the door. "Damn, it looks like we missed the feast. Do you want to go down to the kitchens for some food?"

"Yeah, sure," Hermione said absently, and Harry grinned, glad to be spared any tiresome house-elf ranting. They emerged from the classroom, blending with the other students, before slipping away to the kitchens. Behind them, someone emerged from the Great Hall with the others, his blue eyes glowing with jealously as he watched them steal away.

Pre-HBP

Mnemosyne flew away from Hogwarts as fast as she could, needing to get to Remus as quickly as possible. She landed inside Grimmauld Place with a thump.

"Remus!" she shouted, hurrying up the stairs. "Remus, where are—" She paused at the first door she reached, spotting Remus curled up in a soggy ball on the bed.

"Oh, hello, Mnemosyne," he mumbled. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Remus," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. "Oh, Merlin, Remus, I am so sorry." She walked over to the bed, laying a heavy hand on his shoulder. "I can't even—"

"He fell through the veil," Remus interrupted. Mnemosyne stopped dead. "Bellatrix Lestrange hit him with a special kind of stunning spell, one which works just like the regular one but emits green light as does Avada Kedavra. She knows what the veil is. She wanted him to fall through it, but wanted everyone to think he was dead so none of us would go after him. She was hoping to break Harry so he'd give her the prophecy."

Mnemosyne stared at the wrinkles on Remus' face, only in his late thirties, yet with the appearance of an old man. "I have to go, Remus," she said softly, and rose up. He grabbed her arm.

"Wait, Mnemosyne, what are you doing?"

She shook her hair out of her face and looked down at him. "I'm going after Sirius, of course," she replied, as if this answer should be obvious.

"No, you're not," he said, voice shaking. "You can't possibly think—no. You'll die."

"I think you forget who you're dealing with," she said with a faint smile. "I'll be back, with Sirius. That much I can guarantee you. Goodbye."

Before he could protest any further, she vanished, leaving him to stare at thin air. "Good luck," he said to the empty room.

Mnemosyne appeared in the circular room in the Department of Mysteries, its fiery blue light surrounding her. "Take me to the veil," she told the room, and one of the doors opened, mystical energies pulling her towards the entranceway. She emerged into what looked like an old courtroom. The place was empty, but held the air of a recent battlefield. Eerily quiet. She moved towards the veil, fluttering lightly as though in a wind. She reached out and touched it with the tips of her fingers. The veil reacted violently to her touch, fluttering harder. Mnemosyne took a deep breath and pushed the veil aside, stepping through.

DH

It wasn't until three weeks after term started that Ron confronted Harry. Things had been going normally enough, though Harry was spending more and more time with Hermione, ordering books and researching Horcruxes. Ron didn't contribute much other than complaints, so Harry took to researching with Hermione alone. She also helped him compose his letters to Malfoy, which were strained at best. The first one went like this:

M-

Term just started and there are fewer students than usual. Only about three-fourths of the student population returned, and many of the people missing are from Slytherin. A lot of your friends returned though, all of them except Crabbe and Goyle. Do you know why?

I told Hermione about you, but not Ron, as per your recommendation. She's actually helping me compose this letter. I think she's rather pleased you're alive. She says that you were the only one who ever challenged her in every one of her classes.

Have you been able to discover anything new about Horcruxes? Hermione and I are searching, but we don't have nearly enough resources. I'm almost considering asking McGonagall to lend a hand.

By the way, how are you doing the spell which lets your letters come to me if you're alone?

Let me know how you're doing.

-H

Hermione had criticized him for this letter, protesting that he didn't even bother to write out Malfoy's full name or his own, but he ignored her on this point and sent the letter anyway. What he received back went something like this:

P-

Since you insist upon abbreviating our names, I suppose I'll do the same. Now, your questions. How on earth should I know why there are a lot of my friends there? It's not like I continue to write them. You might get letters from dead people a lot, but I rather think my friends would be a bit surprised to hear from me.

As for the Horcruxes, I have in fact been able to discover a few things. One, they're quite easy to destroy. Just use Avada Kedavra and they're done for. The thing that makes Horcruxes so hard to destroy is that they're usually very well-hidden and protected.

Two, a Horcrux contains half of whatever soul a wizard has left. So, if a wizard has a full soul when he creates a Horcrux, then the amount of soul in that Horcrux would be larger than the amount of soul in, say, his fifth or sixth Horcrux. That's all I've managed to discover so far, but I'll continue to look.

Next question…I got a cat. McGonagall brought her for me a couple of hours after she dropped you off on the train. She's a pretty calico, only three months old. She provides much entertainment, but has unpredictable hours. She likes to keep me awake at night. Any suggestions on a name? I let her look at the letter, and that works just as well. She's part Kneazle, so she's quite intelligent.

I'm doing fine, thanks for asking.

-D

It wasn't quite as strained as it could have been, but Harry still felt uncomfortable with the entire thing. Maybe it was his imagination.

What Harry hadn't counted on was Ron's growing resentment. Ron had noticed how much time Hermione and Harry had been spending together, and was feeling neglected. Harry knew that he was doing so, but what with impending N.E.W.Ts, the Horcrux search, writing to Draco Malfoy, and Quidditch, Harry didn't have much time to worry about it. Apparently this was a mistake.

"We need to talk, Harry," Ron said, as they were heading down to breakfast in the Great Hall, and, before Harry could reply, Ron was pulling him into the same abandoned classroom Harry had spoken to Hermione in only a few weeks earlier.

"Er, okay," Harry said, cringing at his tone. "What's up?"

Ron had begun to pace in front of him, but at Harry's words, he stopped. "Do you have something you'd like to tell me about you and Hermione?" he asked in a soft, angry voice.

Harry frowned, dumbstruck. "Huh?" was all he managed to get out.

"You've been hanging out with her a lot, going away to very long study sessions," Ron spat. "Do you think I'm stupid? I know what's going on with you two."

"What?" Harry said blankly, staring at Ron in frank confusion.

"Look, I figured it out yesterday, you know, when I finally got up the courage to ask her out and she turned me down. I know, Harry. You don't have to hide it anymore, but I still can't believe you'd do that to me! You know how I feel about her!" Ron was shouting now, his face redder than Harry had ever seen it.

"Whoa, wait, back up!" Harry said, moving away from Ron a couple of steps. "If you think we're—Merlin, Ron, no, I've never even thought about Hermione in that way. I swear to you we're just friends."

"Then why did you pull her out of the Great Hall at the Opening Feast?" Ron shot.

"That's…personal, Ron," Harry said, recalling a conversation he'd had with another nosy Weasley only a few weeks before. Ron bristled.

"I see. Fine, mate, you do what you want, but don't expect me to stick around and watch while you steal Hermione from me." With that, Ron strode out of the abandoned classroom. Harry leaned against a desk, covering his face with his hands, wondering what he had done to screw things up so badly.

Hermione walked down the steps of the Hogwarts entranceway, hoping to find a bit of peace and quiet. Harry and Ron had been ignoring each other all day, and, while this was quiet, the strained silence had been enough to drive her mad. Finally she just left in disgust, looking for a better place to study. She walked over by the greenhouses, looking at the plants through the grimy windows.

She'd been walking for about ten minutes when she heard the commotion. It sounded like a fight was breaking out. She sighed, pinning her Head Girl badge to her robes and pulling her wand out, before walking over. A few feet into the Forbidden Forest, and she saw the backs of three boys, who were taunting a girl. She recognized them as sixth-year troublemakers from Ravenclaw. She couldn't see who the were accosting, but she could hear what they were saying.

"Come on, you Slytherin whore. Scream for us. Or do they teach you not to in Death Eater camp?" one boy sneered. Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"I heard that all the girl Death Eaters do is put out for You-Know-Who, because that's all they're good for," another chortled.

"Do you do that?" the last one said condescendingly. "I bet you do, those melons on your chest are all that you have going for you—"

"Enough!" Hermione shouted, hexing the closest one. The other two turned around.

"Why, Granger," a boy with greasy, dyed purple hair beamed at her acerbically. "Your opinion would be much appreciated. How many Slytherin whores does it take to cast a spell?"

Two seconds later, all three of them were unconscious. Hermione walked cautiously over to the girl lying on the ground, blonde hair covering her face. "Are you okay?" she asked softly, reaching out a hand, only to have it viciously slapped away.

"Get the bloody hell away from me, Granger," Pansy Parkinson snarled, pulling herself up and brushing off the front of her robes. "I could have dealt with those pricks myself just fine. No need to come to my rescue."

Hermione ignored her. She had gotten quite good at doing so over the years. "Why didn't you scream for help?" she asked curiously. "Why didn't you stop them?"

"What the hell is this, an interview process?" Pansy snapped. "I told you, I was fine."

"You were not fine," Hermione replied, temper flaring. "They had you on the ground. Merlin knows what they would have done to you—"

"Yes, and I'm so endlessly grateful," Pansy sneered. "However can I repay my debt to you?"

"You know what, fine! Whatever," Hermione said angrily, and turned to go.

She had only gone ten steps before Pansy called out to her, walking up to stand beside her. "Why in Merlin's name do you care anyway?" Pansy asked her. "Hell, you probably agree with what they were saying."

"Are you a Death Eater?" Hermione asked coolly. Pansy cursed underneath her breath and pulled up the sleeve of her left arm. There was no Dark Mark. Hermione nodded. "Then you don't deserve to be treated that way." Hermione turned and left Pansy speechless behind her.

Pre-HBP

Mnemosyne carefully observed the pressing darkness surrounding her. She looked back, but the veil was gone. Big surprise. She walked forward warily, but managed to step into an abyss and fall anyway. She cried out when she landed on the hard ground, but nothing appeared to be too badly hurt, and so she rose to her feet, healing charms spreading throughout her body. Dim light began to filter through to where she was standing. She looked around. She appeared to be in a field of some sort. Wind washed across her face like warm breath; despite this, she shivered.

"Why have you come here?" A man appeared, leaning against a tree she hadn't noticed before. His face was pale, eyes black as the sky above, with features too pointed to be called attractive. He was dressed in a black, ratty-looking suit. The edges of the sleeves were frayed, the white shirt beneath his coat not so white, but a yellow color. His hair was black and slicked back, his shoes old and unpolished. He was a fairly unremarkable looking person, except for one thing. His tie. His tie was the blackest black she had ever seen, and didn't appear to reflect light, much like a black hole. But there were scenes playing across his tie in a bright red color, scenes of the most horrific parts of humanity. Children being tortured, animals strung up by little boys for fun, daughters and sons being raped by their fathers and mothers, death and torture playing across the tie in scenes that at once seemed so fast she could barely focus on one, but when she did, felt as if they were infinitely slow, almost as if she was taking part in them, feeling the terrible pain of the child being tortured, and the insane pleasure of the person doing it. Mnemosyne tore her eyes away from the tie, and the man nodded appreciatively.

"Ah, good, you're worth my time," he said. "Most people get lost in the images, and find themselves wanting to stay and glory in the evil and the pain." He chuckled. "Everyone has evil inside of them, only most refuse to acknowledge them. The tie shows people the evil they most desire. Many get so lost in the realization of that which they deny themselves. They want to stay, and I let them. Everyone has them. You saw your pleasure, I suppose?"

Mnemosyne struggled not to allow her temper to show. She hated every part of herself that was her father, and knew that she shared his love of pain, and spent every day fighting it. She decided to be honest with the man, or…thing.

"Yes, I did," she said. "But I'm a bit more honest with myself than most people are. I already recognized my evils, and I can move past them. Most people refuse to do even that."

He laughed, a chilling laugh that went straight to her bones. This man was pure evil. Most people would have said Voldemort was pure evil, but they were wrong. He was just hungry for power, and chose to get it through evil means, because it was easier. Her father was weak, and lazy. This man was just evil. He didn't care about money, power, fame or glory. Those were just side effects of his cruelty. He was all that evil could be in the world, gathered into one being.

"Now, why are you here?" he asked, after his laughter subsided. "There must be a reason one such as yourself would (move) willingly (move) beyond the veil."

"I came for Sirius Black," she said soundly.

"I see," he murmured. "Very well. I will give him to you, but for a price."

"Which is?" she asked.

"Do you agree to give it to me?" he replied.

"Not until I know what it is," Mnemosyne said grimly.

He examined her for a few moments, and Mnemosyne couldn't shake the feeling that she was being looked over in much the same way that a butcher might look over a cow, to see if it was ready for slaughter.

"You will indulge in your most desired, evil pleasures for one year. Then I will give him back to you, and you both may leave."

Her breath hitched, and she hesitated. There was no telling what might happen to her if she did that. She might emerge from it just like her father. "What—what would happen to Sirius during that time?" The man shrugged.

"Nothing. He would go into a kind of comatose state. We would return him to the world in the same state we received him in, except he would be conscious. He wouldn't have any memory of what happened," the man responded.

"And my "evil pleasures". Would they actually be happening to real people, or just imaginary ones?"

He sighed. "I was so hoping you wouldn't catch that. Fine. They'd be imaginary people. It would not affect another soul, or another living being. Essentially, it would just be for your eyes and mine only."

She chewed on her lip. There was nothing for it. She couldn't leave Sirius down there to be tormented for all of eternity. "Very well," she said softly. "I agree to your terms."

"Wonderful," he smiled at her, fangs flashing in the dim light. He clapped his hands, and she blinked.

She was in an empty, stone room, Dumbledore lying naked on a table, tied there. He was looking at her with horrified eyes. She shuddered violently at the sight of a large knife in her hand, and slid her eyes shut, not certain at all that she could do it. But…Sirius was counting on her, and, after all, these people weren't real. It would just be her suffering.

She opened her eyes again, and moved towards the granite table, and Dumbledore, her grip on the knife tightening.

A/N: I can't believe I wrote an entire chapter in one night. Whew! That took a lot out of me, lol. And man, that chapter was a lot more angsty than I intended it to be. Hopefully it was decent, in spite of the millions of pounds of angst. Oh, yeah, any thoughts on Draco's kitten's name? And if anyone says "Crookshanks Jr.", so help me….Review! Adios!

-CatJetRat