Chapter Twenty: A Triad of Trouble

Professor McGonagall was not able to get Harry out of the four days of detention with Draco that were set by Snape, which made Harry's first full week back in school less than ideal. However, it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been. Professor Snape, of course, was not the reason that detention was more palatable than expected. He was his usual caustic self and set Harry the grossest and most time-consuming tasks possible. But Harry had developed a rather thick skin when it came to disgusting potion ingredient preparation, and not even the rotting fish eyes could give Snape the pleasure of seeing him gag.

What actually made the detentions more pleasant was Draco's behavior.

It wasn't that the Slytherin went out of his way to be kind, or to help with those horrible chores. That would have been more disconcerting than pleasant, anyway. But Draco didn't needle Harry or rub it in when Snape gave the Slytherin some posh job like polishing cauldrons instead of separating usable dragon dung from dragon dung compromised by other animal dung. In fact, Draco said nothing to Harry, which was confusing. If Draco trusted Snape, then he should be giving Harry information about the Seven Deadly Slytherins now, right? If Draco didn't trust Snape, which would be the shock of the century, then why wasn't he bothering to rib Harry relentlessly? That had always gone over well with Snape in the past.

"That's enough, Potter. Clean up and go back to your dormitory," Professor Snape snapped from the doorway. "Some of us have better things to do with our time than fawning over you."

Harry didn't bother to comment. His mood was black tonight because he'd missed another Quidditch practice, bringing the total to two for this week. He didn't expect Katie to have much more patience with him. She'd been an absolute angel compared to Angelina, which was why Harry wasn't risking another word to Snape. He was not going to miss Saturday's practice, no matter what.

He cleaned himself up, passed by Draco without comment and headed out the door. This was the final detention and he was thankful to be getting out at ten o'clock.

"Oi, mate," Ron said as he clambered to his feet, his face bright with hope. "Are you done already?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded, a sudden yawn breaking out. "Git couldn't find any more rancid frog spawn for me to strain. How was practice?"

"Better than most. I actually had a difficult time keeping the Quaffle out of the goal today. I mean, sure, it could have been because I stink, but I think it was mostly because the Chasers are finally coming together," Ron said hopefully as they started up the stairs.

"So who was here while you were at practice?"

"Fred. George came out and gave the Beaters some tips. I don't think they liked that much."

Harry was about to ask about Ginny's performance when light footsteps came from the ascending stairs in front of them. Ron jerked out his wand; Harry tensed his right hand. Then petite feet appeared and Ginny came down into view, breaking into a smile as soon as she saw Harry.

"You're out early," she said brightly. "I was just coming to relieve Ron."

"Relieve me? What in the bloody hell are you up to?" Ron said incredulously, looking her up and down.

"Well, I certainly don't mean taking a piss for you," Ginny snapped. "I'm taking your place. Now, go take a shower. You reek."

"No. I don't want to leave you alone with Harry," Ron protested with wide eyes. "What if something happened? Do you have any idea what Mum would do to me?"

"That's your look out. Fred's already said I could. Now shut it and hold out your wrist," she commanded.

"No." Ron shook his head vigorously. "I'm not doin' it."

Ginny drew her wand and pointed it at him. "Do you think I can't work this properly," she bit out the words at him. "Did I miss the duel where you proved that you're faster, more powerful and better suited to guarding Harry than I am? Because last time I checked—"

"Look, Ron," Harry jumped in quickly before things got nasty, "you're assuming that I'll need protection when I really don't. I mean, it's nice that you and your—"

"—Shut it, Harry," Ginny and Ron chorused in similarly aggravated tones, glaring at him.

"—And yes, okay, Gin," Ron jumped in, "you might be able to take care of yourself in most circumstances, but this is different—"

"—No it's not!" Ginny yelled, putting both hands on her hips, anger flaming her cheeks. "I care just as much—"

"—because you won't be paying attention," Ron finished stubbornly. "You'll be hiding out somewhere, snogging or . . . oh, god, don't make me go there. You know what you'll be doing."

Harry tried not to look at Ginny as a rush of heat to his face confessed the very thing he hoped for but would protest with every fiber of his being to Ron's face, should it be needed. Ginny was fresh from the shower—her hair still damp and the smell the soap wafting invitingly toward Harry. She was too busy to notice Harry's silence.

"Yes, and I also know what you and Hermione will be doing whenever you two get alone, which might be very difficult to do if your sister is as pissed off as she is right now," Ginny said quite convincingly. "You need to go shower up, Ron; Harry and I need some time alone. Why don't we kill two birds with one stone? I'll walk Harry back. He'll be safe, I promise."

Ron looked back and forth between them. Harry did his utmost to look angelic and completely disconnected from the heightening senses in his body. Ginny wanted to snog him. She was planning on it. Harry swallowed, his mouth suddenly parched.

"So Fred sent you? He thought this was a good idea?"

"Yes," Ginny said calmly. "He seemed to think it would be good for Harry."

Oh yeah, Harry agreed silently. Very, very good.

Ron huffed out a long breath and turned to Harry. "And you're okay with this? I mean, with me leaving? I could just stay around the corner or something, so you could shout."

"No. She's right; Ginny can handle whatever anyone throws at her." Harry's eyes met hers and felt an electric thrill pulse through his blood. If Ron wouldn't leave, Harry might have to do something desperate . . .

"Fine. But I don't like it. And if Bill or—God help me—Mum lays into me for this, I'm sending 'em your way, not that it will help," Ron threatened, pointing at Ginny. "I'm going to go get that stone of Harry's and keep an eye on it. Bloody hell," he sighed, "I've probably just bartered my life away."

"It will be worth it when you get to spend time with Hermione. Now. Go shower and find her. You're foul." Ginny waved Ron away imperiously.

"Yes, sir. See you in the dorm later, Harry. Not too late, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," Harry said lightly, his eyes still on Ginny.

Ron scowled and held up a fist. Harry blinked in surprise. Ginny stepped forward and wrapped her small fingers around Ron's wrist.

"Fraterdum Singletus," she whispered. There was a slight silvery glow down Ron's arm and onto Ginny's hand. Ron and Ginny locked eyes a long moment, which reminded Harry how much this mysterious spell bothered him. Finally, Ron nodded and Ginny released his wrist.

Ron flicked his eyes to Harry and then turned to go.

"See you back in the dorm, Ron. We'll be fine," Harry called after him.

Ron waved without looking back.

Harry held out a hand and Ginny laid her hand in it, smiling up at him. Harry pulled her closer. "So. What does that mean, anyway, that spell?"

Ginny smiled up at him. "Family secret, Harry. It just means that you're safe with us."

Harry wanted to contemplate the meaning of what she said, but the heat of her body was clouding his mind. They weren't safe here, he knew that—this was no place to let down his guard. So Harry grabbed her hand again and led the way up the stairs.

Up on the third floor, having dodged Peeves successfully and rather breathlessly, Harry and Ginny spilled into a classroom, snickers and giggles coming fast. Peeves had been imitating the Gray Lady, floating in an hourglass shape and with an imperious but nobly sad look on his face.

Harry turned to watch Ginny giggle, holding one hand over her mouth to stifle the noise. He loved how easily he laughed with her, and how she made him feel like life was full. And God—was she beautiful. The moonlight was bathing her face in a soft, blue glow, the shadows making her eyes dark and mysterious and her hair almost black. He looked down, trying to calm the beating of his heart, which for some reason was pounding like he had run into that Manticore again.

Then Ginny slid closer to his side, leaning back against the wall as he was. The stone was cool through his robes and shirt, and where she nestled against him felt warm. Harry hesitated before putting his arm around her. Hadn't she told Ron that she wanted to snog him? Or at least not denied it? It wasn't their first kiss. It wasn't like—

She turned and moved in suddenly, her face just below his, her body pressed against his. Harry could barely breathe. He closed his eyes, bent his head and eased his lips slowly, softly into hers. She gave a sweet sigh—the moment before oblivion took Harry's mind away. Then the rhythm of their movements and the heat generated by their bodies took him to another place; somewhere there was no Prophecy, no Voldemort, no need to do anything but feel.

The need for more finally drove into him like a spear in his side, and he gasped, pulling away from her. It was that nausea again—that awful feeling . . .

"Harry?" Ginny was still touching him, but it felt like she was far away. The rapture had melted like a daydream. He turned and stepped away from Ginny, his gut clenching in frustration. With a guttural cry, he drove his fist into the stone wall, feeling the pain bitterly.

"Harry!" Then Ginny had grabbed him, thrown her arms around him and pressed herself back into his chest. "It's all right. It's just me. Whatever it is—just breathe deep until you're past it. Damn your secrets."

He tried to breathe deep, but his chest caught on every inhalation. His body was fighting him. It had something to do with him—with Lucius. The name hit him like a blow and he bent forward, his face buried in Ginny's hair now. The fragrance of it—trapped sunshine and strawberries—filled him as he pulled in a deeper breath. This was now—she was now. Whatever had happened then was past. It wouldn't happen again, and he wouldn't let it rule his life—dammit!

He clutched at her, and with a desperate look and a murmur of her name, warned her just before he slanted his mouth over hers. He could taste rapture, could feel it and it pushed out all memory.

Then she slipped her tongue into his mouth, and Harry jumped. His body didn't know what to do. Hot flashes radiated through him; a shiver followed from head to toe. Urgent need suddenly colored their kisses and Harry began to feel out of control, riding a hot, new flood of desire. Just as he started to realize that as much as he needed to stop, he didn't think he could, Ginny pulled away.

Harry took a desperately needed breath and shook his head to clear it. He wasn't even sure what day it was, or how long they'd been here. Glancing up at Ginny, he was alarmed to see her trembling. He reached out for her arm just as her knees gave way. He held her arm, then both her arms, finally sitting down with her awkwardly as she kept going down. She was in his lap, trembling, her shoulders hunched, her gaze fixed on the floor.

"Ginny?"

She looked up and Harry was shocked to see enormous tears in her eyes.

"Ginny, what is it? Did I—what did I—I'm sorry. Did I—"

"It's okay," she whispered. "It's okay. I've . . . just never been kissed like that before." There was a tremulous smile on her face even as the tears grew larger. She swiped at her eyes, laughing shakily.

Harry wanted to ask her what she meant, but words refused to come.

She looked back over at him and reached out to grab his hand. "It's not a bad thing, Harry, for a bloke to kiss a girl so well she nearly faints."

He blinked. "It's not?"

"No, not at all. It's just . . . it made my knees feel that weak."

But she looked so shaken and so un-Ginnylike that Harry was still concerned. "Are you sure that's all it was? I didn't . . . are you sure?"

"Very sure." This time, she leaned forward and looked Harry directly in the eyes, assurance emanating from her gaze. "It was the best kiss I've ever had. I think that was the problem."

Harry smiled, feeling heat prickle up the sides of his face. Then his hand began nagging at him. "Ouch," he murmured, looking down at it in surprise.

Ginny giggled. "Now you've done it." Harry looked up ruefully. "What will Madame Pomfrey say when she finds out you've been punching walls? I just hope she hasn't gotten rid of that sling yet."

Harry groaned.

When Harry returned back to the dorm, Ron wasn't there. Neville and Seamus were giving him such knowing glances that Harry knew they'd badgered Ron into telling who had been guarding him. At least Dean wasn't there. Harry pulled off his robes and threw open his trunk. Dean had taken to giving him dark looks lately whenever girls were mentioned, but especially when Ginny's name came up. Harry shook his head and pulled his pajama top on. As if his life wasn't complicated enough. He wished Dean would just take a swing at him and get it over with.

It wasn't until he was in bed that he remembered Dobby. Where had that House Elf Ghost got to? He hadn't reported in the last three nights. Not that his reports were all that helpful. Draco had finally gotten the other Slytherins to open up, apparently, and was, according to the elf, constantly plotting Harry's death. But, since Harry knew that Draco was claiming to spy on the Slytherins rather than joining in, he didn't take these reports in at face value. It was disturbing to hear, nonetheless, and Harry was always a little glad if Dobby didn't turn up every night.

But three nights?

Harry waited until after Ron and Dean showed up for bed, the former smiling rather absent-mindedly, the latter ignoring Harry. Once his dormmates were all in bed and their rhythmic breathing and/or snoring began, Harry whispered, "Dobby?"

It took two full minutes for the House Elf to show up, something that was also a bit unusual.

"Yes, Harry Potter, sir?" squeaked Dobby as soon as he showed up, as gray and insubstantial as always.

"Do you have any more news on Draco's doings?"

"Oh, no, Harry Potter, sir," he shook his head unhappily. "Dobby is a bad House Elf, sir. If Dobby could crack his head on the mantle, Dobby would, sir."

"Yes, I'm convinced you would, but not sorry at all that you can't," Harry said with a slight smile. "Where have you been?"

"Dobby is keeping Winky company and guarding her from the bad House Elves."

Harry was taken aback, and felt a momentary pang of guilt. He had meant to visit the elves in the kitchen, but had only managed it once. "What bad House Elves?"

"They is not happy that Winky is pushing for freedom from the Hogwarts master. They is wanting her to be a good House Elf and work for free and stop being so loyal to Dobby."

"But they were all for it last time I was down there," said Harry, consternated. "I don't remember anyone being against Winky."

"Oh, yes sir, Harry Potter, sir, they all says they is for Winky, but then bad things happen when poor Winky is alone. At first, Winky is thinking it was accidents, but now she is thinking they is not."

"What sort of bad things?"

Dobby tugged at his ears. "Oh, Dobby is keeping her company and warning her of all the things falling—cauldrons, hot irons, steak knives. But there is so many and Dobby cannot watch all the time."

"You can't see who's doing it? But you're a ghost."

"Dobby can't see," Dobby wailed from behind his transparently-gray, knobbly hands. "Dobby doesn't know."

"Does Dumbledore know about this?"

"Winky is not wanting Dobby to bother the Headmaster," Dobby said, looking up with a sniff, "but Dobby is warning the Headmaster, anyway."

"Good. And I'm sure Winky will be fine. She can do pretty powerful House Elf Magic, can't she?"

Dobby seemed convinced that the Headmaster would take care of it and left after promising to check in on Draco at odd times, especially whenever the boy's schedule was free. Harry was dying to know what he and Snape said to each other whenever they were alone.

Once the House Elf was gone, Harry settled back in bed. His mind once again turned to the puzzle of Draco, and shifted the ill-fitting pieces around until he gave up and fell into a quiet rest.

The next morning at breakfast, three unusual things happened. First, Hermione appeared at the table with a secret alight in her shining eyes, fairly bursting to talk.

"What is it?" Harry asked right away.

"I just got a note from Professor Dumbledore and he wants me to meet him in his office tonight." She turned to Ron. "And you know what that means, don't you?"

"Uh . . ." Ron said, gaze darting about the room as if searching desperately for a clue in their surroundings, "you're going to be Head Girl next year?"

"Nice try," Hermione smirked and then turned to Harry. "It means he's ready to look at my research."

"Research?"

Hermione leaned in closer. "Remember, I'm the Official Researcher for the Order of the Phoenix?"

"Oh," Harry said blankly, wondering how he could have forgotten that detail. "I reckoned that was . . ."

Hermione speared him with a look. "An empty title? Shows how much you know. I've been doing research every chance I could, which, admittedly hasn't been much lately. But while you were in the Infirmary in that coma, I got a fair amount done."

"Oh yeah, she did a lot of work then," Ron nodded, anxious to get himself in the clear, "outdid herself."

"Well, no one knew when you were going to wake up, Harry, or if you were going to. I had to have something to focus on or I'd have ended up barking mad."

"Almost did," Ron supplied over-helpfully. Ginny giggled.

Hermione paused to look at their tablemates, all of whom seemed busily talking about other things. She lowered her voice. "Anyway, I was looking up that Priori Incantatem spell that you mentioned this summer. There wasn't much in the library, even in the Restricted Section—" here Hermione interrupted herself to answer Harry's shocked look—"which we are able to access now that we're Sixth Years—but what I did find looks promising. I gave Dumbledore a report a few weeks back and I didn't know if he had looked at them or not. But," she added with a hopeful smile, "I think he's had a chance now and we'll find out if that's how you can kill Voldemort, Harry."

Harry nodded, immediately sobered as he was anytime the inevitable was mentioned. Hermione and Ron exchanged a glance and fell silent as well. Being Prophesied to end the reign of a dark and terrible Wizard was a definite conversation-killer.

"You know, I think you and I need to have a talk," Ginny said shrewdly from beside him. Harry couldn't look away from those piercing eyes soon enough. He hadn't told her about the Prophecy yet. He didn't want to. He was putting it off as long as possible, for many different reasons.

As Harry avoided Ginny's eyes, he noticed Katie Bell and Cho Chang talking to Professor McGonagall, who was nodding resignedly. Then his gaze was drawn over to the Slytherin table, two Seventh Years were sitting in Draco's usual spot, looking intent upon their conversation. Glancing over the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables, he saw several more students clumping up to talk—all Seventh Years.

"What's going on with the Seventh Years?" Harry asked, nodding toward the Gryffindors.

"Oh, the N.E.W.T.S. Transfiguration Practicum is next week," Hermione said with dismissal. "You'd think it was the end of the world the way they're acting."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Tell Harry why you're being so pissy about it."

"Ron! I'm not pissy about it!" Hermione thwacked him in the arm.

"Ouch!"

"It's just that they won't tell me anything; like it's some great secret or something."

"Well, maybe it is," Ginny spoke up reasonably. Hermione huffed out an exasperated breath. "Here comes Katie now. Why don't you ask her?" Hermione shot Ginny a curious look, but Ginny just smiled angelically. Harry wanted to investigate that smile, but Katie had just stepped up to their table, looking a bit harried.

"Harry, Ron," she began before anyone could speak, "I have to cancel all Quidditch practices next week except for Saturday's. Terribly sorry and all that—can't be helped."

"But we've just gotten Harry back—" Ron began loudly.

"We'll be fine, Ron," Ginny cut in.

"Fine?" Ron yelped. "Our Chasers are weeks behind in their speed drills; the Beaters are dropping Quaffles all over the place—"

Harry stared at Ron. "I thought you said they had good practices this week."

"Well, yeah," Ron said quickly, "but that doesn't mean we can just slough off a week and expect to win any matches at all—"

"I know that, but as it can't be helped—" Katie began again.

"Yes it can!" Ron stood up, creating a flurry of movement as Ginny, Hermione and Harry all reached to pull him back down. "Don't call off the practices! Simple as that!"

"I have to!" Katie raised her voice to the level of Ron's, surprising everyone and calling attention from every table. "This is my N.E.W.T. year and what I do for the rest of my life depends on the outcome. I have to do this!"

"No—what you have to do is sacrifice for the team!" Ron pounded his hand on the table, drawing even more stares. "What kind of captain are you? You let everyone goof off. You let Harry miss practices all the time—"

"Hey!"

"Ron! Shut it!"

"You're too nice! You don't yell at anyone—"

"Fine! NOW I'M YELLING!" Katie roared, and pushed Harry out of the way so she could stand on the bench. "CAN EVERYBODY HEAR ME?" There were stunned nods from around the table. "GOOD. BECAUSE I QUIT!" Fuming through her tears, Katie stepped down and stomped away, ignoring as best she could the applause and cheers of the Slytherins. Several of her friends hurried after her.

"Katie!"

"What the bloody hell was that?" Ron stared after her, horrified.

"RON!" Half the table chorused at once.

"What?" He looked around, wide-eyed.

Harry pulled him back into his seat. "You have some major apologizing to do, mate."

"Not just apologizin'," Seamus added severely. "Some very thorough butt-kissing is required, I reckon."

"That was not very nice, Ron," Neville said firmly.

Ron slumped in his seat. "I didn't mean to make her quit. I just thought—I mean, has she gone mad, or has McGonagall, letting her call 'em off like that?"

A few debates broke out on the subject around the table, but Ginny broke in over all the noise.

"Katie's been ready to blow for weeks and McGonagall was probably trying to help her keep her mind on her studies. I imagine she was expecting us to practice just the same without Katie. But now that we've lost our captain," Ginny said with a scathing look at Ron, "it looks as if we'll be doing that the rest of the year."

"I'll apologize," Ron said morosely. "She'll come back. Right?"

"If you grovel enough," Ginny admitted, "but not until after she finishes her Transfiguration Project."

Ron and Harry exchanged a glance. "What Transfiguration Project?" they asked together, Hermione loudly joining in.

"Oh no, look at the time," Ginny said. "I'd better get to class." And with a smug smile, she gathered her things. As she bent over to kiss Harry's cheek, she whispered in his ear. "Since we can't go to Hogsmeade, they're bringing Hogsmeade to us." At his puzzled look, she just smiled.

"How does she know about this and I don't?" Hermione demanded from Ron. "Who told her?" They stared at each other for a moment, then both broke out, "Fred and George!"

Harry just shrugged, keeping Ginny's secret for her. But what could she have meant about bringing Hogsmeade to Hogwarts? It did make sense that Dumbledore might have decided not to allow the students to travel to Hogsmeade this year, with all the trouble they'd had so far with Dobby's death, Pansy's attempt on Harry's life and her death, then Goyle's attempt and Charlie's abduction, not to mention Narcissa running about the castle trying to kill her son and Harry. And with five more Slytherins plotting away . . .

Harry looked back over at the Slytherin table, noting again that Draco wasn't there. Blaise was missing as well—and Millicent.

That was when the third unusual thing happened.

A young witch came running up to the Gryffindor table, gasping for breath. When Harry got a full look at her face and short, spiky hair, he recognized her as Violet Hooch. There was only a brief moment for him to recall her hanging about the Quidditch Pitch during practices and to wonder why he'd never seen her in the dorm before she was clutching the shoulder of his robes and spitting out garbled words. Harry was frozen in stunned amazement until Violet finally managed to get two names out—Blaise and Tobias.

"What? Where?" Harry jumped to his feet, barely remembering in time not to whip his wand out in the Grand Hall. When Violet shook her head, eyes squeezed shut, Harry grasped her by the shoulders. "Tell me," he demanded.

Voices all around were chiming in; Ron and Neville had risen.

"Have to tell you. Blaise has Tobias," Violet said slowly, her eyes now open and bright with unshed tears.

"Where?"

She took another deep breath. "Three levels down," she gasped, "just outside . . . the Slytherin dorm."

Harry never heard the last three words as he was already racing for the door, Ron keeping pace beside him. They dodged students and ignored McGonagall's loud call, the furor dying as they reached the hallway and the Grand Hall doors slammed shut behind them. To their surprise, Neville was only one step behind.

"Go back!" Harry ordered.

"No!" Neville yelled back, looking from one to the other. "I want to help!"

"Fine . . . if you can keep up," Harry said in between breaths as they raced on. As they reached the stairwell leading to the dungeon, Neville was slowly being outdistanced by the other two.

"Go on ahead, I'll catch up," he called after them.

Ron and Harry yelled assent just as a clump of students exited the stairs. The sudden appearance of The One—breathless, wand out, face fixed in a rage—caused instant panic. There was a mad scramble to get out of his way and all the lurching, dodging and jumping away from Harry meant that several of the slowest ended up directly into Ron's path. Before he could stop, he took out two students at full speed. They hit the ground in a tangle of arms and legs and foul language.

"What's the matter with you—?"

"You've nearly killed Padma!"

"Where's he—?"

"Harry?"

"Bloody hell! Harry—wait!"

But Harry shook his head and went on, taking the stairs three at a time. He couldn't stop imagining Tobias in Blaise's clutches again. He'd meant to do something to keep the Slytherin off Tobias' back, but he'd waited too long.

"Hey—remember Sirius," Ron called out over the clamor of voices, his voice echoing to Harry eerily in the stairwell.

The words cut Harry like a knife, but the warning was a good one, nevertheless. This could very easily be a trap. Harry didn't slow down, but quickly, he went over his defensive strategies.

He'd only been down here once before, back in his second year, but he knew from that what to expect. Running full-tilt, he managed to make it down to what surely must be the furthest dungeon level level in only five minutes. Then he slowed, trying to quiet his breathing and listening hard. There were muffled voices ahead, but he couldn't make out the words.

Harry crept silently behind a stone pillar and tapped his wand on the top of his head. He took a few deep, calming breaths. Then Disillusioned, he moved down the final staircase, freezing at the bottom. Ahead, past the blank stone wall that hid the Slytherin Common Room, stood Zimmy Twitchtie, wide-eyed and with wand drawn. She was watching the staircase and whispering something Harry couldn't hear.

What should he do? Tobias trusted her, but then why was she being look-out for Blaise? With regret, Harry stepped closer and sent a silent Petrificus Totalus at her. Just as it hit, he finally understood what she was saying:

"Please, please oh, please."

She fell over and Harry managed to reach her before she thudded to the floor. With a whispered apology, he laid her over to one side. She must have been the one who sent Violet. Harry felt a twinge of guilt, but then again, she was probably safer out here anyway.

A cry of pain reached his ears and Harry bolted up like a shot. Tobias!

He raced silently down the corridor to the right, through the chill, damp air. With a shiver, Harry gripped his wand tightly and stepped up to the closed door. The voices were coming from inside.

"Say it," Blaise was sneering, "or I'll curse you so badly there will be no future generations of the great family Wafting."

"NO!" Tobias screamed, his voice stretched taut with pain and anger. Outside the door, Harry jerked in a visceral reaction.

Torture. Instantly, cold, hard steel replaced the ache in his stomach and fire ran in his veins. He gritted his teeth, stepped back and aimed his wand.

Reducto! he projected against the gray screen that came up instantly in his mind. The door imploded and chaos reigned. Shouts and screams came from within. Harry stepped through the hazy air, his gaze zeroing in on Blaise across the room, whose face had a decidedly greenish tinge.

"Guard the door!" Blaise barked out, wand already trained on the empty air in front of him.

There were two other Slytherins in Harry's periphery, one on each side of the room. The nearest was Draco. What—?

"Where is he?" Millicent screeched from somewhere behind. Harry whipped around and aimed at Crabbe, who was eyeing the door nervously.

"Uh . . ." There was naked fear on the larger boy's face.

"No—you clod—he's already inside the room! Go stand right there!" Blaise used his wand to point Crabbe in the right direction. "I want you two to make sure he doesn't leave until I want him to!"

"Any day of the week," Millicent boasted.

"I beg to differ," said a lazy, familiar drawl. Harry jerked back around toward Draco, who was leaning up against a wall, arms crossed, wand pointing down. "He leaves when he wants to. Didn't you learn anything from his little foray into Hell Manor? I'd start talking quickly, if I were you."

"Whose side are you on, Draco?" bellowed Eustrich Bletchley from the far wall. Harry whipped his head around to look the sallow-skinned, hairy ape of a Slytherin over. He was too cowardly to shoot the first curse. Harry kept his wand midway between Blaise and Draco.

"Why, yours, dear, of course," Draco smirked in response. "Why else would I be here?"

"Harry?" Tobias whispered, "it's a trap." Harry couldn't keep from glancing at him and then couldn't look away. The poor boy was shirtless, spread-eagled to the wall, so many red welts crisscrossing his chest that all the skin was swollen and parts of it bloodied. Tears made paths from his despondent, vacant eyes. Harry found himself trembling with rage and started counting to five, forcing his anger under control.

"Oh, I think he knows it's a trap by now," Blaise said, stepping forward cautiously. "What he doesn't know is why."

Five. Harry twisted, knelt and screamed a curse at Crabbe that laid him flat on his back.

"HE'S THERE! AIM LOW!" Blaise screamed, and four wands fired from all corners of the room, quartering the room with brilliant red jets of light. They all missed. Harry had felt them as soon as they left their wands—Blaise's Cruciatus, Eustrich's Confundus Charm, Millicent's Petrificus Totalus and Draco's . . . Cheering Charm?—and in the seconds that followed, Harry had leapt up, clearing two curses, arched back to go over a third and flipped over, putting one hand down, to miss the fourth. The result was that the Slytherins had to scatter to avoid the curses as well. In the end, Draco was actually closer to hitting Blaise than Harry.

"Sorry," Draco called out gaily, "thought I saw him over there!"

Blaise climbed to his feet, murder in his eyes. "Use the Color Charm—and find him!" Instantly, Harry knew it must be the charm Narcissa had used to spray paint at him, to foil his Disillusionment Charm.

He crouched and cast Stupefy! against the screen in his mind. Millicent flew back against the wall with a satisfying thud. From the vacant look on her face just before the jet took her, she obviously didn't know the Color Charm.

—which was coming at him right now—

Harry dove for the floor, feeling rather than seeing the jet of red light miss him by inches. Paint splattered with a SPLOOSH against the wall. Harry rolled to avoid a second volley from Eustrich and stopped quick enough to lash back with another silent Stupefy! that hit home. He silently Scourgifyed his robes, then cancelled the spell that held Tobias up to the wall. As the boy fell forward, Harry jumped to catch him.

"There you are, you—"

Encumbered by Tobias' limp form, Harry couldn't move fast enough to dodge, but he raised a shield in time. The curse flew back and Blaise had to dodge again.

"I think the word you're looking for is 'bastard," Draco supplied helpfully.

"Will you just curse him, you—" Blaise cut himself off again, then tapped his wand to his head and disappeared.

Harry cursed under his breath. "Sorry, but he'll nail me," he whispered, letting Tobias slip gently to the floor. The boy mumbled something and Harry paused to listen.

A red hiss erupted in his mind—a Sensed Cruciatus coming his way—nearly on him—and he threw himself sideways—

WHAM!

White light flooded his mind and Harry reeled, crumpling backwards onto the floor. He'd smashed into the wall. The side of his face was numb, his shoulder was on fire and Blaise—where was Blaise? Bright lights were popping in front of Harry's eyes; he was completely dazed. He raised his wand anyway, desperately trying to Sense Blaise's signature. There? Harry fired off a silent Bludgeoning Curse, saw it hit a shield and knew he couldn't move fast enough to avoid the next curse. He flattened himself, sucked in his breath and waited, wand ready.

He saw the flash of red in his mind and threw up a shield. The curse still smacked his back against the wall—it was that strong.

"There you are, you—"

It was Blaise, but something had cut him off—a curse from behind, Harry Sensed—and then he was thudding into the wall on Harry's right. He hit the floor and lay still, at least from the sound of it.

Harry looked up to see Ron standing in the doorway, wand aimed at something off to the far right. Harry tipped his head to see Draco, wand aimed back at Ron.

"He never can seem to finish his sentences," the blonde said with a smirk.

"Who?" Ron ground out.

"Why, Zabini, of course. I was aiming at him, you know, not Potter."

"Well, how would I know, since I can't see either one of them!" Ron, still trained on Draco, leaned in the doorway and peered around. "Harry? You all right, mate?"

"Fine. Draco took out Zabini."

"I was going to do that, you know," Ron groused as he stepped over Crabbe's bulk. "Couldn't see a bloody thing, o' course."

Wearily, Harry tapped his wand over his own head and became visible again. He started to sit up and then decided against it. The world tilting that far made his stomach heave.

"Yes, of course," Draco acknowledged, pushing himself off the wall, "there's always some excuse for mediocrity, isn't there? We'll just have to convince Blaise that somehow, a Weasley managed to get the drop on him." He paused. "Then again, there are some things that strain the imagination too far."

Ron, who was ignoring Draco now, walked over to Harry. "You don't look fine. Why in the bloody hell didn't you wait for me?"

"They were torturing him," Harry said, reaching out a hand to Ron. "Help me up." Ron shook his head, but grasped Harry's hand and slowly pulled him up. Harry wavered a bit, putting a hand out on the wall. "Look at him. I couldn't wait."

Ron looked over at Tobias' still form, then walked over to the invisible Blaise, nudged him with a foot and then kicked him—hard. Then he pointed his wand down at him. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't repay the favor."

"Pass," Draco said indifferently.

"You're next!" Ron snarled, wand now aiming at Draco. "Torturing First Years is the sickest—"

"Oh, please," Draco scoffed, "you call that torture? You should have seen what they wanted to do to him. I held them back."

Ron harrumphed. "Oh, right, you didn't really want to torture him. In fact, you wanted to give him a teddy bear and tuck him in bed but they wouldn't let you."

"Believe it or not, I don't care," Draco snapped back. "But you'd better get him out of here before they wake up."

Ron gave Blaise one more kick for good measure. Harry smiled at him grimly. "You'd better carry Tobias."

"One more thing," Draco drawled as he stepped up to them, "if you don't mind, knock me out?"

Ron and Harry exchanged a look.

"Draco," Ron said with a grin, "you just made my day."

> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >

A/N: To all my patient, patient readers--you see, I actually haven't given up on this fic! I'm not quite sure why you've stuck with me on this long, long journey, but this story will be finished eventually, and the next chapter will be out in a much more timely fashion, I promise. We've had illnesses and house problems keeping me away from the keyboard lately, but that should be finished now. Having that said, I am estimating ten more chapters in this fic, and they should all be barn-burners. Hold on to your hats! Thanks again for your patience!