Harry Potter and the Cult of Shadows

by chadsgirl824

AFTER HOGWARTS Harry now works at Hogwarts and has his hands full as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor. But Voldemort's fate is still a mystery and dark forces are closer than anyone imagines. Written before OotP

10. Chapter 10

"Let's just go ask the painting," Ron said after a moment. "I can tell my dad what's happened and…"

"No, that won't work," Marzia cut in gently, shaking her head.

"Why not?" Harry inquired, arching one eyebrow, questioningly.

"All of the paintings in that office are frozen…they can't move or speak," Marzia explained.

"Since when?" Ron asked angrily, his eyes flashing. "Did Thurston have this done so we wouldn't be able to ask them?"

"I'm not sure," Marzia replied. "The paintings, as far as we know, were frozen before Thurston arrived. Other ministers started showing up first after Ewan notified them of what he'd seen…all the people we spoke to say the paintings were like that when they arrived."

"I bet Ewan did it," Ron said darkly. "He must be the one who killed Travis and Simone…then framed Dumbledore and enchanted the paintings so there'd be no witnesses. Thurston was probably the one to put him up to it too…"

"Yes well that's quite a large accusation to pin on someone," Marzia said evenly. "And we're going to need much more than just suspicion to convince a jury. We have to be positive ourselves…which means evidence."

"Which means," Sirius jumped in, looking at Marzia "that you and I should speak with Arthur again…he has full access to Albus' office. We can let him know about this painting and see what we can find."

"I'll try and reach him now," Marzia nodded in agreement, already out of her seat and heading for the next room.

"What about us?" Harry asked, knowing they wouldn't be granted access to the head minister's office but wanting to help just the same.

"I think the best thing for the four of you would be to keep out of Thurston's way…don't draw any attention to yourself," Sirius replied, looking pointedly at Harry. "If he's the one behind this, and I believe he is, who knows what other plans he might have. Don't give him any opportunities."

"There must be something we can do though," Harry insisted.

"You'll have your hands full enough when classes start again," Sirius replied, shaking his head. "Besides I don't want you out in the open now, not when the media are out in droves. The cult may be having trouble finding you while you're in the wizarding world, but your picture in a newspaper would certainly be narrowing things down for them…" he trailed off, pushing back in his seat and heading into the den after Marzia.

"He's right Harry," Mel nodded softly before Harry could utter a word in argument. "Especially now that Dumbledore's in prison…since he was the one who seemed to know the most about the shadows…and we can't just go ask him about them anymore…"

"I say find Snape the moment you get back and tell him you're using the crystals whether he likes it or not," Ron spoke up then, quiet stubbornness in his tone. "He can't keep ignoring this…"

"I've thought about that," Harry said, honestly. "I've been thinking about it since we found out Albus was accused of murder…I don't even know what I'd do yet to help him, but I'm sure there must be something they crystals could do…"

"So you're going to speak with him then?" Hermione asked.

"I'll try," Harry shrugged, remembering Snape's reaction the last time he'd tried to bring up the subject. "But I'm not going to break my word…if Snape doesn't want me to use the stones then he must have a reason. I don't have any other choice but to trust him on this…"

"We'll be back soon guys, we're going to meet Arthur at the ministry building now," Sirius said, coming back into the kitchen, Marzia just behind him.

"It's best we look into this as soon as possible," Marzia said. "Before Thurston has any idea what we're up to."

"Yeah so he can't tamper with any evidence," Ron spoke up dryly.

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Harry asked, standing up from his seat.

"Not this time," Sirius replied, shaking his head apologetically. "Just wait for us here, we'll be back soon."

Harry nodded faintly, watching as his godfather and his godfather's wife left the room once more, before lowering himself back down into his chair.

For a few moments, a soft silence settled over the four friends, broken once by the sound of Sirius and Marzia using the floo network to meet with Arthur, and then again a brief time later, by Hermione clearing her throat gently.

"Okay, there's one thing that's been bothering me about what Dumbledore told us earlier," she began quietly.

"One thing?" Ron cut in, sardonically, but he shut up at once after a brief warning look from Hermione, as she continued on.

"He told us that when he was on his way back to his office the last time, he saw a blue light flash through the small crack in the doorframe."

"And?" Ron asked, not making the connection.

"Well, if I were to guess," Hermione began, "I would say that blue light came from whoever really killed Travis…but the only curse I know of that's used to kill someone produces a green glow…not a blue one."

"You're right," Harry said absently, wondering why he hadn't thought of that before.

"Then whoever killed Travis didn't use the killing curse," Mel spoke up.

"Draco told us Dumbledore's wand was tested, remember?" Ron said suddenly. "The last spell that had been cast from it was the killing curse…"

"Which means if they can confirm Travis was killed by something other than that, it will prove Dumbledore is innocent," Harry said, beginning to smile.

"Not necessarily," Hermione said curtly. "According to Thurston's story, Simone died after Travis, and I believe it was the killing curse that was used on her."

"So they were killed by different means," Mel said solemnly. "We don't know what was used against Travis…but he's the one who ended up with the mark…" she trailed off, glancing around at the others worriedly.

"Yeah but what does that mean to us?" Ron asked, sounding discouraged. "We know it wasn't the Shadow Walkers…so why only give the mark to Travis?"

"Whoever did this probably didn't expect Simone to show up," Hermione replied quickly. "They weren't prepared."

"That still doesn't explain why they would put the cult's mark on Travis in the first place," Harry said darkly.

To this no one had any reply, and a tense silence settled over the four friends until it was once again broken by Hermione.

"Let's just hope whatever Sirius and Marzia find out can at least give us another clue…" she said quietly. "Because right now, we could really use some of those."

"There was a burn mark under the painting," Sirius said, several hours later when he and Marzia had returned. It was late in the evening now, and Ron and Hermione had been about to leave, when they arrived. "Arthur and I moved it back to where it seemed to be in the picture in the regular issue of the Daily Prophet, and just beside it was a dark spot, burned into the wall."

"Do you know what it was from?" Hermione asked.

"A curse, most likely," Marzia answered. "It'll take some time before we know exactly which one. Arthur is doing all he can to get it tested straight away…we don't want anyone tampering with it."

"Well, even if we do figure out which one it is…how will that help us?" Ron asked. "I mean, we know there was fighting going on in the office…it wouldn't exactly be breaking news to find out curses were used…someone just missed is probably all that happened. It hit the wall and left a mark."

"Is there any way to know whose wand the curse came from?" Hermione asked before anyone could reply to Ron's question.

"There is a way, but it's not always accurate," Marzia said, tilting her head slightly as she spoke. "And we don't know how it will help us, Ron, not yet…when we figure out which curse left the mark, then we can go from there."

"It must mean something," Harry said quietly. "Why else would Thurston have it covered?"

"If it was even Thurston who covered it," Hermione added quickly.

"Oh you know it had to be," Ron said, rolling his eyes.

"We don't know anything yet," Marzia spoke up above them.

"I have a question," Mel said suddenly, waiting as the others turned to look at her. "Can you tell me, how exactly Thurston thinks Dumbledore is guilty here? What is his story? He never fully told us…"

"Thurston thinks Dumbledore killed Travis with his wand," Sirius replied evenly, "He says Simone must have come in and seen what happened, and Dumbledore killed her as well. She tried to defend herself by stunning Albus, and it worked, but his curse had already been cast, so they were hit at the same moment. The custodian happened to be passing by in the hall, and saw the whole thing through the open door."

"So then, if his theory were true, there would be no mark on the wall," Mel said slowly. "Everyone hit who they were aiming for."

"Yes, the mark would put a dent in his story," Sirius nodded, smirking slightly.

"I don't know," Hermione said uncertainly. "Can we prove the mark appeared that night? Thurston will probably try to say it was already there…"

"I thought about that," Marzia nodded. "Like I said, let's just see what spell caused it in the first place, and hopefully whose wand it came from…"

By the next morning, there was still no word from Arthur, but Harry realized it would take time. However, today was the day before classes began again, and he had to return to Hogwarts. Mel had gotten ready early that morning and left for her house, making Harry promise he'd contact her with anything he found out, and shortly after getting Sirius to promise him the same, Harry had left as well.

He made his way back to his quarters and unpacked slowly, thinking how strange it felt to be there now. Standing there in the school, it almost felt as if nothing had changed, classes would resume, everything would continue on as it had been. Only things had changed, Dumbledore was in prison for crimes he had not committed, and Harry wondered how things truly would go on with that over everyone's heads.

As he hung the last set of robes in the closet, Harry turned, looking over the room slowly. He glanced at the trunk containing the crystals, wondering why he'd even bothered to bring them this time. What good would they do if he couldn't use them? But he knew why he'd taken them…if there was any chance the recent events had changed Snape's mind about the lessons, he wanted to be ready.

After a few moments, Harry decided to pay McGonagall's office a visit. He hadn't seen the headmistress since the wedding, but knew that Sirius and Marzia had seen and spoken to her at the ministry on several occasions. She was just as angry as they were about what was happening to Albus, and just as determined to see the truth told.

He walked almost absently through the halls he knew so well, lost in his thoughts. When he came at last to the statue of the gargoyle, he gave the password and took the stairs up, only to come to a sudden stop as he reached the upper door.

McGonagall was speaking with someone, and Harry turned to leave, not wanting to disturb her, but when he heard the voice of the other person, he hesitated. Troy Ryan was in the office with Minerva, and Harry suddenly remembered what had happened just before the holidays. In all the confusion and stress of the last week, he had completely forgotten Troy's lie about entering the Gryffindor tower. The transfiguration professor had left quite early the next morning as well, before Harry could confront him with what he had learned from the portrait of the fat lady. He was considering waiting for Troy now, to ask him before he had the chance to get by, when something he heard the redhead say wiped the thought from his head, and he leant slightly closer to listen.

"Pardon me?" McGonagall's voice asked, sounding stern and strained.

"I said I don't think I can stay in this position much longer, Minerva," came Troy's apologetic reply. "There's something I have to take care of…I didn't expect it to turn out like this…"

"Troy you cannot leave now," McGonagall replied determinedly. "I have no one ready or available to take your place…and we can't go without a transfiguration professor. With everything happening right now I have no time to look for one either. I need you to stay."

"Minerva you don't understand," Troy began, his voice much softer than any tone Harry had ever heard him use. "I need to go, it's very important…"

"Tell me why then," McGonagall snapped impatiently. "If you truly have a good reason I'll see what can be done."

"It's just something I need to do," Troy replied quietly.

"I'll need a bit more than that I'm afraid, Mr. Ryan," McGonagall replied, sardonically.

For a long moment, no one spoke, and Harry wished he could see what was going on inside, when finally Troy spoke up, his tone a mix of regret and frustration.

"I can't tell you any more than that, Minerva."

"Then I'm afraid I cannot accept your resignation," McGonagall replied curtly. "I need a much better reason."

"You're making a mistake," Troy said, no threat in his voice whatsoever, it was simply a statement.

"Until you can tell me why, then so be it," McGonagall replied stiffly. "Now you'd best be on your way, I'm sure you'll need to prepare for class tomorrow."

Harry snapped to attention, realizing if the door opened now they would know he'd been eavesdropping. He slipped back down the stairs as silently as possible, stepping into the corridor beyond. Moving quickly, he turned the nearest corner and waited. A moment later, the gargoyle slid aside again, and Troy stepped into the hall, looking angry and upset. Harry briefly considered his earlier thought of confronting the transfiguration professor about his lie, but decided against it for the moment.

When the redhead was out of sight, Harry once again entered the stairwell, and made his way up to the headmistress' office.

Harry knocked softly on the door and slowly pushed it open as McGonagall's tired voice bade him entrance. As he stepped inside, he was glad to see she didn't look as worn out as she sounded; it was only her eyes that gave away all the stress she was under, but he fully understood why.

"Sorry to bother you Minerva," he began quickly.

"Quite alright Mr. Potter," McGonagall nodded faintly as she took a seat behind her desk and gestured for him to sit as well.

For a few moments, they discussed the accusations against Dumbledore, and what they had learned. Both of them had been getting information from Arthur, Sirius and Marzia, so there was little difference in what each of them knew.

"I heard from Marzia just this morning regarding the painting and the mark," Minerva said solemnly. "I expect to hear from her again as soon as more is known."

"I do too," Harry nodded faintly, feeling as if he were not doing nearly enough to help.

"Our job now, is to make sure the students are taken care of," Minerva said, seeing the look in Harry's eyes. "We have to continue with lessons, and be there if they need to talk with someone. The younger ones may or may not be affected by this in the way the older students will be. Some of them may not understand, depending on what the parents have allowed their children to know…and we will have to be mindful of that."

"I understand," Harry replied quietly, not actually having thought of that until this moment. What would he say if any of the younger students asked him about this?

"Now, I really must get back to my work, I have much to do before tomorrow…" McGonagall began.

"Yes, of course," Harry said standing up from his chair. He began to turn towards the door, but hesitated momentarily. He knew he couldn't ask about what he'd overheard of her discussion with Troy, but he had to mention the transfiguration professor's lie. He was never one to snitch, but this concerned the students, as Troy had been in the Gryffindor Tower.

"There's just one more thing I needed to talk with you about," Harry said, facing the headmistress once more. "It's about Troy…"

"Are you referring to his visit to the Gryffindor Tower just before the holidays?" McGonagall asked, her tone clearing showing that she knew.

"Yes," Harry replied, taken aback. "How did you…?"

"I spoke with him only a short while ago, and he explained what happened."

"He told you he was in the tower?" Harry asked, stiffly. "Why would he lie about it to me then? Why did he attack me?"

"He said that as well," Minerva nodded gravely. "From what he told me, he didn't know who you were at first, but when you began to follow him he only did what he did to defend himself. I have already spoken with him about it, and informed him I will not stand for hastily taken action like this…it's simply too dangerous."

"Did he say why he was in the tower?" Harry asked, feeling a dull anger in his gut but not allowing it to show. He wasn't upset with McGonagall, after all…but Troy had been evasive and threatening that night, and now here had been telling it all to the headmistress, most likely so he would seem less guilty.

"He said he needed to speak with one of the students," Minerva replied. "I told him in the future he would need to find more appropriate times to do so."

"And…that's it?" Harry asked. "You didn't ask him what he needed to talk to the student about? Or which student it was?"

"No, I did not," Minerva replied curtly. "I trust all of the professors here, Mr. Potter…and if Troy says he needed to speak with a student, I believe him. If there is ever a time when he needs my advice on a matter, I trust that he'll come to me and ask for it."

Harry nodded slowly, knowing McGonagall was only doing for Troy what she would for any other teacher at the school; knowing she'd known him for much longer than he, himself had…and hoping Troy was the person she believed him to be, despite the nagging doubt eating at him inside.

"You're right, I didn't mean to sound…accusing…" Harry began.

"I wouldn't blame you for feeling that way," Minerva said quickly. "I'm not blind, Harry. I see how Troy acts towards you, and as head of Gryffindor I understand your want to know what happens in that tower, and with your students. I would expect nothing less. Now Troy is new to the school, and while I know this is your first year as an instructor as well, you have the advantage of knowing more about how things are done here. I've already spoken to him, and he understands that his hasty reaction was wrong. I don't believe it will happen again."

"I'm sure you're right," Harry nodded, not quite sure of this at all, but feeling it would be unwise to push the matter any further.

He made his way back down the stairs, and began walking slowly through the corridors, wondering what exactly Troy was up to…and if it was in some way connected with Dumbledore. He felt it must be, it was too much of a coincidence that whatever Troy needed to leave for was happening right now…but he couldn't think of what it could be. If the transfiguration professor were in on it somehow…if he were part of the plan to frame Albus, it would only draw attention to him if he suddenly left, wouldn't it? But how else could he be involved?

These thoughts circled Harry's mind all the way back to his office, and he decided to write his friends at once, to let them know what was going on. As he stepped through the door however, he came to a sudden halt. The room was dark and cold, no fire was going and the window had been left open, letting the icy winter air circulate through the office, but Harry didn't care about any of that. His eyes were focused on the silvery-white figure hovering near his desk. The figure of the Bloody Baron.

Harry watched, unmoving, as the Baron ever so slowly turned to face him. For a moment, the two stared at each other, and Harry felt a strange sense of emptiness as he looked into the cold, dead eyes that belonged to the Slytherin ghost. Then, clearing his throat, nearly inaudibly, Harry took a step forward.

"Is there something I can…do…for you?" he asked hesitantly, not quite sure how to address the Baron properly. The seconds ticked on endlessly, but there was no reply, and he tried again.

"What is it you want?" Harry asked, a bit more confidence in his tone, taking another step towards the grim-looking figure.

The Baron moved then, straight at Harry, and the young professor stepped aside, knowing there was nothing he could do to stop the ghost from exiting, should that be his intention, and not wanting to feel the icy chill that was certain to follow should the Slytherin ghost pass through him. But the Baron did not leave, and instead came to a slow halt just in front of Harry.

For several moments that felt like ages, Harry waited, his hands balled into fists at his sides. This was the closest he'd ever been to the Baron, and the longest he'd ever been in his presence…he didn't care for it in the least. He opened his mouth to ask again what it was that the ghost wanted, when suddenly, for the first time in all of his years at Hogwarts, Harry heard the Baron speak.

"Do. Not. Get. In. My. Way." the terrifying ghost spoke, saying each word slowly and pointedly, his dead eyes boring into Harry's soul. Harry cringed inwardly at the sound of the Baron's raw voice, shivering involuntarily. It was dry and cracking, a hoarse whisper mixed with a chilling wind, and somewhere beneath it, only barely audible, a high-pitched screeching, like nails on a chalkboard. It took everything Harry had in him, to ask another question.

"What do you mean?" he spoke, forcing his voice to remain steady, "How am I in your way?"

"This one is mine," the Baron replied, quicker this time, but the threat in his voice still evident.

"What one?" Harry couldn't stop himself from asking. "Is there something here that you want? What are you looking for?"

But the Baron had already begun to exit, dismissing Harry entirely and disappearing through the corridor. Harry stood for a moment, his mind racing with countless questions as he tried to grasp what had just happened. He looked around the dark, cold office, not sure what to do, when he made a sudden decision. Without a second thought, Harry turned on the spot, exiting the office and starting down the hall.

Walking so quickly he was nearly running, Harry made his way down the corridors and into the dungeon area. He didn't know if he was making the right choice by going to Snape, but as head of Slytherin, Harry assumed the potions master would at least know something that might help him with the Bloody Baron.

As he reached the doorway to the office, Harry raised one hand absently, brushing the hair back from his eyes so he wouldn't look as though he'd just ran all the way down here, before knocking curtly on the door, and pushing it open.

"Professor Snape?" he called out softly, poking his head through the opening and glancing around into the dark room.

"What do you want, Potter?" came the icy reply. "Maybe you don't have much to prepare for your classes but some of us take our job seriously."

"I'm sorry to bother you," Harry said quickly, biting his tongue against the reply he would rather have given the potions master. "I was just wondering if I could ask you something…"

"And I'm telling you no, I do not have time," Snape snapped from where he sat at his desk. His long, black locks were hanging in his face as he hunched over a stack of paperwork, glaring up at Harry on occasion.

"It's about the Bloody Baron…" Harry persisted.

"Is he unable to enter your office again?" Snape asked, seeming suddenly interested.

"No, the opposite, actually," Harry replied. "I returned to my office today and found him inside…near my desk."

"Then I fail to see the problem here," Snape replied, all signs of curiosity disappearing from his expression as he returned his gaze to his work.

"He spoke to me, professor," Harry continued, taking a step further into the room. He wasn't going to let Snape cut him off. "He told me to stay out of his way…"

"Then I suggest you do as he asks," Snape replied, an expression of mixed annoyance and amusement on his face. "It isn't very wise to go around upsetting the ghosts…"

"I didn't do anything to upset him," Harry interrupted, trying to keep his voice even and wondering if he'd ever have a discussion with Snape that didn't try his patience. "He told me to stay out of his way and then he said this one is mine."

"Did you ask him what he meant?" Snape asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"Yes," Harry nodded. "He didn't answer though."

For a few minutes, neither wizard spoke, and Harry waited patiently where he stood as Snape seemed to consider.

"Alright," the potions master spoke at last, nodding quietly. "I'll try to find out."

"How?" Harry asked.

"How do you think, Potter?" Snape asked impatiently. "By talking with the baron."

"He'll tell you?"

"I'll find out, won't I?"

Harry raised one eyebrow, questioningly.

"You mean there's a chance he won't talk to you about it?" he asked.

"You sound surprised," Snape remarked. "It isn't as if I can force him, you know."

"But-"

"But nothing," Snape cut him off sharply. "I said I would speak with the baron and I will. Unfortunately, the only person who was ever able to get a clear and complete response from him is locked in a prison cell right now."

Harry nodded slowly, wondering if there was any real chance of finding anything out now.

"I'll go speak with Minerva as well," he began.

"Don't bother, I'll tell her," Snape said quickly. "Let us know if the baron is in your office again, and what he seems to be interested in while he's there."

"I will," Harry replied quietly. "Thank you," he added, uncertainly, before turning away and silently exiting the office.

"So that's it then?" Ron asked incredulously. "They're not going to do anything else?" It had been one week since Harry's talk with Snape. Classes had started up again and were going surprisingly smooth. Troy kept more to himself than was usual, but Harry didn't complain. The only problem had been the one incident with the Bloody Baron, and even after both Snape and Minerva had spoken to him, they still didn't know what he was up to.

"What else can they do?" Harry shrugged, sitting back against the couch. It was the weekend, and both he and Mel had been invited to Ron and Hermione's for lunch. Harry had told them of his run in with the baron, and the conversation he'd had just after with Snape. "They spoke with the baron; he wouldn't tell them any more than he did me. We're certain he's looking for something in my office, but if he's coming back, he must be doing it when I'm not around, because I haven't seen him since that day."

"You'd think they'd have better control over the ghosts," Mel said, shaking her head in frustration. "Or that there'd be some way to make him talk…I mean, this is important…"

"She's right," Hermione spoke up. "Even Peeves listens when it comes to the instructors…for the most part…"

"Well apparently the baron doesn't," Harry said. "Snape said that Dumbledore was the only person he'd ever give a straight answer to, and unfortunately I don't have a way of speaking with him right now."

"Maybe we could ask Marzia to ask him?" Mel suggested. "Or Mr. Weasley," She continued, turning to Ron."

"No," Ron replied quickly, shaking his head darkly. "Thurston is keeping close watch on anyone who he doesn't trust right now. My dad can't get in to speak with Dumbledore privately, I'm sure Marzia would probably be having the same problem…the guards just refuse to leave them alone. Thurston actually made a list of ministers that can and can't have an isolated cell to speak with the head minister"

"But, how can he do that?" Mel cried angrily. "Dumbledore is entitled to a fair trial."

"Which it definitely won't be if Thurston has the guards reporting back to him on everything Dumbledore tells the ministers that are trying to help him," Hermione added.

"We're trying to fight it," Ron said quickly. "My dad and Percy have both tried getting private meetings…so have several other ministers, but so far the guards aren't budging. The warden isn't forcing the matter either, so Thurston must've gotten to him too…" he trailed off, snickering quietly before continuing. "Ironically, I think Draco is on the list of those that can have an isolated cell for a meeting with Dumbledore…"

"Well that doesn't help us any," Hermione said flatly. "He's already made it clear that he doesn't want to be caught even associating with us any more."

"Maybe he wouldn't mind though," Mel said quietly. "I mean, since we'd only want him to ask about the baron…nothing to do with the investigation."

"Not likely," Harry said, laughing at the thought. He couldn't even imagine what Draco's reaction would be to that particular request. He'd probably laugh in their faces, or worse, he'd find some way to use what Harry told him about the baron to his advantage. No, it was definitely better not to tell Draco of any of this…however…

Harry sat up suddenly when an idea struck him.

"Ron, are you certain Draco can get in to see Dumbledore for a private meeting?" he asked quickly.

"I'm pretty sure…why?" he replied curiously.

"Do you know if Draco's been there at all yet?" Harry asked.

"I could find out…" he shrugged, his brow furrowed in confusion over Harry's inquiries.

"What are you thinking?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

"I'm not sure yet," Harry said quietly. "I wonder if it would be easy to swipe a pair of Draco's robes…"

"Why would you need them?" Ron asked, baffled. Hermione, however, was catching on right away.

"Harry, no…you can't. If you get caught you'll be in prison as well."

"How else do you propose we find out about the baron?" Harry asked. "It's only a thought, besides I don't have any of his robes…it would never work without them. Anyone who's seen him knows what an impression he likes to make."

"Do either of you want to explain what you're talking about to the rest of us?" Ron spoke up impatiently.

"Harry's thinking of using Polyjuice to get in to see Dumbledore," Hermione answered immediately, crossing her arms over her chest and throwing Harry one of her infamous stern looks.

"Hey, that could work!" Ron said excitedly.

"Ron!" Hermione cried, horrified. "What's wrong with the both of you…you're talking about sneaking into a highly guarded prison where they obviously mistreat the inmates, not to mention the fact that Thurston would more than likely jump at the chance to lock you up if you're caught!"

"If I drink the potion just before I go in, and don't stay an hour…how will I get caught?" Harry asked, grinning.

"What if Draco decides to visit that day?" Hermione said at once. "How will you explain two Draco Malfoys?"

"So we make sure he doesn't come that day," Ron jumped in.

"It could work Hermione," Harry nodded. "If we start on the potion right away, then I can find out about the baron in a month rather than waiting for him to finally talk to us…all I need is a pair of robes…"

"Well I doubt you'll get Draco to just lend you a pair," Hermione said stiffly. "So your plan stops right there…"

"Actually," Mel spoke up, hesitantly. "I might be able to get you a pair of his robes."

"How?" Harry and Ron both asked excitedly as Hermione's jaw dropped in dismay.

"Alright, before I tell you, I just want to say that if this seems like we're missing something from this plan…if it doesn't feel right, I won't do it…"

"Neither would I," Harry assured her with a grin.

"Good," Mel nodded. "Now, Draco, as you said, likes to keep up his appearance, and he comes in to the shop once a month to have his robes adjusted. Never anything big…I mean really, how horrible can they get after just a month, but he's always there just the same. He usually brings in four or five at a time, so I could just borrow one for a day…as long as I had it back that night."

"Perfect!" Ron smiled.

"Not the word I would choose," Hermione muttered.

"Oh c'mon Herm, think about it…this could work," Ron said.

"Please Hermione, I really need your help on this," Harry said sincerely. "Maybe the baron's search for whatever it is in my office doesn't mean anything…but if it does, this is the only way I'm going to find out. Now you're the only one who's made Polyjuice Potion before out of the four of us…and I'm asking you to do it again."

Hermione looked back at Harry, a stony expression on her face, and remained silent for several minutes. Harry simply looked back, hopefully, praying she agreed.

"I want you to know," she began at last, "that if my apartment holds onto that awful smell after that potion is finished, you are going to be responsible for scrubbing it until it's fresh and clean."

"Deal," Harry laughed. "Thank you."

"Just promise me you won't get caught," she said seriously.

"I promise," Harry nodded.

"Alright," Ron said then. "So when are we going to do this?"

Hermione promised to pick up the ingredients she would need to mix the potion on her way home the next day. They decided to start as soon as possible, if only just to get it over with. With the tentative plan set for one month's time, Harry returned to Hogwarts to wait.

Another week passed easily, and Harry still hadn't seen the baron return to his office. February began, with quidditch practice in full swing, and excitement about the annual dance building. If he didn't think about anything going on in the outside world, Harry could almost convince himself things were moving along nicely, seeming quite normal.

When Saturday came around again, Harry had accepted an invitation for tea with Hagrid, something he hadn't done in a long while. Despite the rock hard treacle fudge Hagrid was so proud of, Harry realized he missed those visits a lot more than he thought.

As he was making his way through the corridors, however, he stopped when he heard voices from a nearby passageway. Backtracking a few paces, Harry peered down the hall, seeing four students. He recognized three Ravenclaw third-years, one of which seemed to be angry, and was talking harshly to the fourth student, Hadley Thurnes.

Shaking his head, realizing he should've known this would happen again, he started down the hallway, slowing as he reached the group.

"Look, I never said anything that wasn't the truth," Hadley was saying, a haughty tone to her voice.

"That's my point!" one of the Ravenclaws shot back, angrily. Harry recognized her from class. She was a short girl with light brown hair; her name was Samantha. "I want to know why you were spying on me! Did you sneak into my dorm?"

"Why would I want to spy on you?" Hadley spat, disgustedly, showing how obviously ridiculous she considered that idea to be.

"How else would you know?" Samantha asked, fiercely, but her glare faltered as she saw Harry approaching, and immediately took a step away from Hadley.

"What's going on?" Harry asked quietly, as a dead silence fell over the students. No one made any attempt to reply, so he turned his gaze to the Ravenclaws.

"Samantha?" he asked. "Why were you yelling at Hadley?"

"I'm sorry professor," the young girl began, keeping her eyes on the floor. "I didn't mean to yell."

"Just tell me what happened," Harry nodded gently.

"I don't know…I mean…it's sort of, personal…" Samantha stammered, her face growing red.

"Alright," Harry nodded, "I want you three to wait right here," he said to the others, who nodded silently in reply. "Samantha, would you come with me please?" He waited for the young Ravenclaw to start towards him and led her down the length of the hall, until they were out of earshot of the other students, but where Harry could still see them.

"Now, can you tell me what happened?" he asked again, crouching down so he was at eye level with her.

"Hadley told everyone something about me," Samantha whispered, her eyes narrowing and Harry could see tears forming in them. "Something I haven't told anyone else…she only could've found out if she looked in my diary…"

"Can you tell me what it is?" Harry asked kindly.

"It's not…it's…" she began, becoming frustrated and sighing shakily. "I feel stupid," she said, quietly, looking up and meeting Harry's eyes slowly. He tried to look back reassuringly as she continued. "She knew about a boy…that I…like…" Samantha trailed off, looking away again, embarrassed.

"Hey, it's alright," Harry said quickly, putting a hand on her shoulder and smiling gently. "Believe it or not, I can understand what you're feeling…"

"But she told him!" Samantha whispered fiercely, looking up again. "She blurted it out in front of everyone, and he was right there! I couldn't even say anything…I just ran away…" she trailed off, delicate tears making their way down the sides of her face. "He probably hates me now…"
"I'm sure he doesn't hate you," Harry said softly, waiting a moment before speaking again. "Do you know why Hadley would say that to him?"

"I don't know," Samantha said, shaking her head and wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand.

"You're sure?" Harry asked, knowing when it came to Hadley, this could full well be the truth but he wanted to make sure.

"I never did anything that would give her a reason to steal my diary and…and…do what she did…" Samantha said quietly.

"I believe you," Harry said. "Though I'm going to have to ask her about it as well…I just want to know if you remember her seeming upset with you at all…before this happened."

Samantha was silent for a few moments, her eyes slowly raising to meet his.

"Well, we did have an argument…I mean sort of…last weekend…" she said hesitantly.

"Can you tell me what happened?" Harry asked.

"It wasn't very big," Samantha said quickly. "There were a bunch of us out watching the quidditch practices…Hadley was there too, but she wasn't with anyone. When it was over, some of the boys convinced Madame Hooch to let us out on the pitch for just a little while, just for fun. I didn't have my broom with me, and neither did some of the other students, so we went to the broom shed to borrow a few…none of the players' brooms, just the school ones. I grabbed the first one I saw, but before I turned away, I saw a newer Comet beneath it…and picked that one up instead. I guess Hadley must've seen it too, but I already had it. She tried to pull it away, even scratched my hand," Samantha said, raising her left arm and showing Harry the nearly healed scratches just on the surface of her skin. "Madam Hooch saw her, and sent her inside. She took points from Slytherin too."

Harry gave an inaudible sigh of exasperation, shaking his head slowly. Hadley seemed to dwell on the most trivial matters, and caused them to become much bigger than they ever should be.

"I really am sorry I yelled at her, professor," Samantha said quietly as Harry looked back at her again. "I was just so angry at what she did…and when I saw her in the hall just now…"

"It's alright," Harry said quietly, nodding faintly. He knew Samantha had never been one to pick fights. "Come on," he said, standing up and gesturing for her to follow. They made their way back up the hall to where the other three were waiting. Harry sent the Ravenclaws on their way, and waited until they were a short distance up the hall, before looking down at the young Slytherin.

"Hadley," he began, gently, only the smallest hint of authority in his tone. "Walk with me, we need to talk."

"Are you going to take points from Slytherin?" Hadley asked immediately, stepping quickly to stay beside Harry.

"How did I know you were going to ask that?" Harry asked, holding in a small laugh.

"Well are you?" Hadley persisted.

"Not yet," Harry replied, coming to a halt and turning to face her. They were back near the end of the corridor, where he had spoken to Samantha a few moments earlier. "First I want you to tell me what happened."

"What happened when?" Hadley asked with a shrug.

"Well, to start, how did you know about the boy Samantha liked?"

"You mean Rob? Who doesn't know? Anyone who sees her looking at him would know…"

"Is that so?" Harry asked wryly, crossing his arms over his chest. "And when did you become so interested in watching Samantha to know this?"

"I'm very observant," Hadley replied, a small grin crossing her lips.

"So then why did you feel the need to embarrass Samantha? It wasn't nice of you to tell everyone about…Rob."

"I didn't tell everyone," Hadley said quickly. "I just happened to say it without realizing Rob was nearby."

"Say it to who?" Harry asked. "Who were you telling?"

"Just a friend," Hadley replied.

"Samantha seemed to think you were saying it on purpose so that Rob would hear you," Harry said evenly.

"Well she's lying," Hadley said as if it should be obvious.

"Why would she lie?"

"I don't know…but you saw how she was yelling at me…probably to get back at me."

"So she lied to me to get back at you for accidentally letting it slip in front of Rob that she likes him?" Harry asked, arching a skeptical eyebrow.

Hadley paused a moment, thinking back over what he'd just said, before nodding.

"Yes, that's it."

Harry wondered if she realized what a horrible liar she really was.

"What about the fight over the broom last weekend, were you angry with her for that?" he asked.

"Fight over the broom?" Hadley asked, innocently, before a light seemed to dawn in her eyes. "Oh…no…I didn't even remember about that…"

"Hadley," Harry half sighed as he spoke. "Go back to your dormitory, okay?"

"Why, am I being punished?" she asked warily.

"No," Harry shook his head faintly. "Just don't get into any fights on your way."

"Thank you professor," she smiled as sweetly as Harry had ever seen her. He watched for a minute as she turned and trotted off down the hall, before stepping out of the passageway and back down the corridor he had originally started in.

"Was wonderin if you were still comin," Hagrid said as he opened the door to his hut, allowing Harry to enter.

"Sorry I'm late Hagrid," he said quickly. "I was held up by several students…having an argument."

"Oh," Hagrid said knowingly, a large grin on his face. "Took care of 'em, I imagine?"

"Not exactly," Harry said, lowering himself into one of the overly large chairs. "Though that seems to be the case in any spat involving Hadley Thurnes."

Hagrid let out a short laugh as he brought the kettle over, pouring them both a cup.

"That don' su'prise me none," he said knowingly.

"She acts up in your class too?" Harry asked.

"Seems teh be in her nature," Hagrid replied as he took his seat across from Harry. "She's rude…tries teh be confident and she don't pay any attention."

"But why does she keep starting fights with other students? They're never for anything so important that makes it worth it. She lies about anything so long as the blame is shifted off of her…and she knows things…" he trailed off.

"Knows wha' things?" Hagrid asked.

Harry paused a moment, before shaking his head and sighing quietly.

"Things she shouldn't know," he said with a shrug. "She tries to pass it off every time she's questioned about them…but I don't believe her. There's more to her than any of us realize…and I have no idea how to find out what it is."

"Sounds like yeh think she can read minds er summat."

"Maybe she can," Harry laughed, considering the idea. "But if she can, then why does she only use it on students when she's angry with them? I wouldn't put it past her to use that skill to get the answers in class, to cheat on tests…"

"Maybe she ain't able to control it right yet," Hagrid suggested.

"I suppose," Harry nodded faintly. "It's just that it's too much to be coincidence. Plus…remember back near the beginning of the year, someone was after her, they tried to lure her out to the dementors."

"McGonagall tol' me," Hagrid nodded gravely.

"Well we still don't know anything about it," Harry said. "Who was after her? Adrik was there, but was he there for that or something else? Why does this person want her out of the way? Why haven't they tried again? How did they get to her in the first place? I mean, we have so many protections up around this school now, there's no way I can think of that anyone can get in, and if they did we'd know."

"I don' know about none a that," Hagrid said, sitting back in his chair. "But if yeh wanted teh find out more about Hadley, yeh could always owl her folks…ask for a meetin',"

"We can do that?" Harry asked.

"O'course we can," Hagrid laughed. "Happened quite a bit with yer friends there o'er the years. Sometimes fer good news, sometimes not."

"I never realized," Harry said, thinking that made sense, actually. He never had parents for any of the instructors to meet with, and you couldn't have paid the Dursleys to accept such an invitation. But the more he thought about it, the better the idea seemed.

On his way back to the school, Harry decided he would indeed be sending an owl to Mr. and Mrs. Thurnes, and hopefully, if they agreed to meet with him, he could find out a bit more about their mysterious daughter.

When Harry received the Thurnes' reply, he was slightly disappointed to see they would not be able to meet with him until sometime in late March. They said they were out of town, but would be happy to contact him when they returned.

"At least they agreed to come," he said to himself as he folded the letter and placed it in his desk drawer.

As the days continued to pass, Harry still couldn't believe how things had settled down. Even with the occasional spats involving Hadley, no real obstacles, old or new, presented themselves. If the baron was visiting his office, he had taken to doing so while Harry wasn't there. There were no arguments with Snape, though Harry definitely wanted to find a time to ask him about the crystals again…and Troy was keeping to himself, more so than usual. Harry was certain the transfiguration professor seemed somewhat anxious a good deal of the time, but he couldn't dwell on that now, and he knew Troy would never tell him if he asked.

The third weekend in February arrived at last, and Harry was only now beginning to feel nervous over the plan to use the Polyjuice Potion. He knew it was risky, but it was the only way he'd ever be able to get in and speak with Dumbledore again.

After dressing quickly that morning, Harry made the short journey to Hogsmeade, and took the floo network from there to The Leaky Cauldron. He walked quickly through Diagon Alley, until he came to Madam Malkin's, and quickly slipped down the lane beside the shop. Once around back, Harry found the door Mel had told him about, leant against the wall beside it, and began to wait.

The minutes ticked by, and Harry checked his watch several times; as usual, Mel was running late. She had told him to be there just as the shop opened, as Draco always came first thing in the morning, so it would give them all day to make sure his robes were finished. Panicked thoughts began to race through his mind, and he could do nothing but wait. What if Draco didn't show up today? What if he did but Mel was caught trying to sneak away one of his robes? What if somehow the ministry knew what they were planning and…

The door beside Harry opened suddenly, and Mel peered out into the alley.

"You're late," Harry grinned with relief as Mel's eyes fell upon him. She stepped out, closing the door quietly behind her. Harry's smile faltered, however, when he saw how pale she seemed.

"Oh it feels so much better out here," Mel said, raising her head and letting the icy February wind whip against her face.

"You don't have a cloak on," Harry said worriedly, stepping closer and putting his arms around her. "Are you alright? You look ill! Shouldn't you have stayed home?"

"That would've ruined our plan," Mel replied simply, lifting a hand and wiping a bit of sweat from her forehead. "Besides, it's nothing big…I'll be fine."

"I care a lot more about you then the plan," Harry said quietly. "Please take the rest of the day off."

"I can't," Mel said firmly. "I have to be here when you bring the robes back."

"Then let's do this some other day…"

"Harry don't be silly, we've been planning this for a month," Mel said, taking a step away from him. "If you're going to cancel everything don't do it on account of my not feeling well."

"Are you sure?" he asked, hesitantly.

"Positive," Mel nodded, before suddenly scrunching up her nose. "Ugh! Do you smell that?"

"What?" Harry asked.

"It smells like…coffee…but horrible…" she stammered, bringing her hands up to cover her face. "Is there a new shop nearby that I don't know about?"

"I didn't see one…" Harry said slowly. "The nearest café is a few streets up, that way," he said pointing to his right, in a direction that led out of Diagon Alley.

"Well whatever they're making today, it's terribly strong," Mel nearly choked, looking ready to gag. "Wait right here, I'll grab the robes," she said, turning away quickly and heading back into the shop.

Seconds later, the door opened again, and Mel beckoned him to come inside.

"Now, don't say anything too loudly," she whispered, glancing warily towards the front of the shop. There was a thin curtain hanging over the entrance to the back area they were standing in, but if it were opened, there was no place he could hide. "I just couldn't stand out there any longer. Here are the robes," she paused, handing him a set of neatly folded black robes, then pulled an envelope from her pocket. "And here's a few strands of his hair."

"Were they hard to get?" Harry asked quietly.

"Apparently he never sheds," Mel shrugged. "I had to convince him there was a piece of lint in his hair, and accidentally tore out a few strands when getting it for him. He wasn't entirely pleased, but he doesn't suspect anything. Ron was already here, and he's following Draco now…to make sure you're not interrupted."

"Good," Harry nodded, hoping Draco would stay in Diagon Alley long enough for him to finish the visit at Nabakza. "I'll see you in an hour and half then."

Mel nodded faintly, putting her hand on the doorknob and looking at him solemnly.

"Promise me you're not going to do anything stupid…" she whispered, her eyes locked with his.

"You have no confidence in me at all, do you?" Harry joked, earning a hasty shushing from Mel.

"Just don't get caught, alright?"

"I'll be in and out, don't worry," Harry said softly. "And when I get back, I want you to tell Madam Malkin you're sick and you need the rest of the day off, alright?" he said, concernedly.

Mel shook her head, smirking.

"If I still don't feel well, then I will…you just worry about getting back safely, okay?"

"An hour and a half," he repeated with a grin. "Two hours at the latest,"

"I'll be waiting," Mel nodded. He leant down, kissing her quickly, before they heard an older woman's voice calling for her from up front, and Mel hastily ushered him out the door.

Carrying the robes under one arm and slipping the envelope in his pocket, Harry quickly made his way back up the busy marketplace, before entering the Leaky Cauldron once more. He tossed a handful of floo powder into the flames, and was on his way to Hermione's.

"Do you have the robes?" Hermione asked, the moment Harry stepped out into the living room.

"Right here," Harry replied, quickly unfolding the perfect black robes. "Mel got a few of his hairs as well, straight out of his head, so there won't be any mishaps," he joked, earning a stony glare from Hermione.

"You know, you shouldn't say things like that before you've drunk the potion," she said mock-threateningly.

"Sorry, you're right," Harry laughed. "Millicent Bulstrode's hair was so coarse, I'm sure anyone could confuse it for cat's hair…"

"Alright, alright," Hermione said, laughing lightly. "We can continue this joyful talk some other time. Let's not waste any of the time we have. If Ron thinks Malfoy might go anywhere that he can't follow he'll try to stop him, but we can't count on that being enough."

"Let me just throw these on," Harry said, gesturing at the robes. "The potion's ready, right?"

"Yes, but first, come in here," Hermione said briskly, motioning for Harry to follow her. They went into the bedroom where Harry saw a dark green, long-sleeved shirt and a pair of black trousers laid out on the bed. There was a pair of perfectly polished black shoes on the floor as well.

"I just wanted to be sure," Hermione began explaining quickly, seeing the questioning look on Harry's face. "You and Draco seem to be about the same size, but just in case, I picked these up, they're his size, I found out from Mel, and they look like something he would wear…"

"They certainly do," Harry nodded. "Alright, you go get the potion ready, I'll get changed."

Hermione nodded, and shut the door quietly behind her as she hurried back into the living room. Harry threw off the clothes he'd been wearing, and slid into the new ones. He realized at once Hermione had been smart to do this, as the clothes he had on now were definitely a bit on the tight side, particularly in the shoulder area. The shoes, however, were slightly large, and his feet slid back and forth in them as he moved. He shrugged the robes on over the outfit, feeling uncomfortably hot now in the tight clothing, and stepped into the living room.

"Here," Hermione said, already waiting for him with a cup of the potion in hand. "Put the hairs in and drink it all, you can use the bathroom if you'd like…" she trailed off, and Harry suddenly remembered how badly this had hurt the last time he'd done it. Ducking back into the bedroom and pulling the envelope out of his pocket, Harry went into the bathroom and closed the door.

Several minutes later, breathing heavily despite his now comfortable clothes, Draco Malfoy stepped into the living room.

"I'm going to leave my glasses here," he began, placing them on the mantle, and thinking how odd it sounded, hearing his thoughts spoken in Draco's voice.

"C'mere," Hermione interrupted curtly, completely unfazed by his appearance. Harry stepped towards her as she made him duck his head down, and felt her patting it into place.

"Tell me you're not spitting onto your hand," Harry said, a sickened expression on his face.

"Oh hush, Draco's hair never sticks up, we have to make this believable," she said casually. When she was finished, she stepped back briskly and pointed towards the hearth. "Now quick, we've used about five minutes, so you better get going."

Harry nodded, thanking her quickly, and in seconds found himself in the swirling of colors through the floo network, on his way to Nabakza.

Stepping out into the cold, dark entryway, Harry brushed off the soot from his clothes, and glanced around. It was completely empty.

"Hello?" Harry called out, trying to remember from his last visit how long it had been until the warden showed up. He looked towards the long tunnel with the jagged gravel, and back to the opposite side of the small lobby, but there was no movement, no noise.

Harry could feel sweat beading up on his brow. What if he wasted too much time waiting for someone to come? He would miss his chance to speak with the head minister and this would all be for nothing.

"Mr. Malfoy?" an unexpected voice startled him, and Harry whirled around to find the ghastly pale warden standing directly in front of him. "I wasn't aware you would be visiting today."

"Oh…um…sor-" Harry began, catching himself as he heard Draco's voice again. Malfoy would never apologize for this. "It was a last minute decision," he said hastily, hoping he was sneering enough.

"Of course, of course," the warden nodded, understandingly. "Was the ministry channel inoperative? Why did you use the visitors' entrance?"

"I wasn't at the ministry this morning," Harry replied, honestly enough, then decided impulsively to go with this so he could move things along. "But I do need to be there for a meeting shortly, I'm in quite a hurry today…very busy," he stated firmly. "I need to speak with Albus Dumbledore."

"Certainly, Mr. Malfoy," the warden replied, bowing his head faintly, before moving past Harry and towards the opposite wall. Harry felt a swell of relief at how easy that had been. He watched as a door appeared in the thick stones, and the warden beckoned him to follow. He was somewhat relieved that he wouldn't have to walk through the tunnel this time, and stepped through the doorway into a well-lit room.

Gesturing for Harry to wait where he was, the warden stepped forward, where two guards were standing, side-by-side, and a short distance apart from one another, in the very center of the room. Harry could see two more guards standing about the same distance from one another, against the far wall.

After speaking quietly with the two closer guards, the warden turned back to Harry.

"Fourteen will take you to the private cell, Mr. Malfoy," he said, gesturing to one of the guards. "The prisoner will be brought in for your meeting."

Harry nodded stiffly, thinking how odd it was that the guards were addressed by numbers, and stepped forward. Fourteen smirked proudly as he stepped in front of the area he and the other guard had been flanking, and put his hand up. Harry saw the air shimmer, like it did over a fire, and half a second later, he stepped through and vanished. Trying not to look surprised, as he was sure Draco had probably already seen this happen before, Harry set his jaw and followed the guard, seeing the room change around him as he made contact with the shimmering air.

"Wait right here," Fourteen said, "The old man will be brought in soon."

Harry nodded, biting his tongue against correcting the guard, but feeling angry at how this man had just addressed the former headmaster.

Fourteen left the room through a thick steel door to Harry's right, slamming it shut behind him. Harry immediately pulled out his watch, seeing he had about forty minutes left, before turning to look at the cell. The walls were windowless and the air was quite stale. There was a heavy wooden table in the center of the small room, with one straight-backed chair on either side of it. Harry took the seat closest to him, and immediately a tall glass of water materialized onto the table in front of him.

A loud bang made Harry jump as the door was heaved open again, and two tall guards ushered a very thin Dumbledore into the room.

Harry clenched his teeth, doing everything he could to not look as angry as he was feeling. The two guards led the head minister to the empty chair, and Harry watched as shackles appeared around the wooden legs, clamping over Dumbledore's ankles.

The guards nodded at Harry, who did not return the gesture, before exiting the small room and slamming the door shut behind them.

Harry looked away from the exit to the pale, ragged man sitting across the table from him, and took a deep breath, before speaking.

"I don't have much time, there's something I need to ask you about," he spoke quickly.

"Of course Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore nodded, his voice somewhat raspy and his eyes narrowed curiously, "but may I ask, is everything alright? You do not seem yourself today."

"It's me," Harry whispered, leaning closer. "Harry."

"Dumbledore's eyes widened at once and he looked back at Harry intently.

"Mr. Potter, what you're doing is quite dangerous…"

"I know," Harry cut in quickly. "Please though, I really don't have much time. I didn't bring any extra Polyjuice Potion with me because I thought they might find it if they searched me…but I didn't know they don't search ministry members." He paused, glancing down at his watch again. "I have thirty-six minutes left."

Dumbledore's eyes showed clearly how he wished Harry hadn't done this, but he understood there was no turning back at this point, and simply nodded. Harry could see how dry the man's skin was, how brittle the hair of his once long, full beard had become.

"Is there anything I can do for you at all?" he couldn't stop himself from asking.

"Do not worry about me Harry," Dumbledore said evenly. "I want you out of here as soon as possible, so please, ask me what you came here to ask."

Harry nodded reluctantly, hating the helplessness he was feeling for the head minister.

"I know this is going to sound strange," he began quickly, "but can you tell me anything at all about the Bloody Baron?"

"Still hovering about near your office, is he?" Dumbledore asked.

"In my office, actually," Harry replied. "He told me to stay out of his way, and then said this one is mine, no one has any idea what he's talking about."

"He is hunting, Harry. It is what he does."

"Hunting what?" Harry asked.

"That I cannot say," Dumbledore replied, attempting to sit back in the uncomfortable chair. "You see, the baron is the oldest ghost at Hogwarts, the first one ever to roam the school's halls. He was brought there by Salazar Slytherin himself. During his life, the baron, Wesley Thorpe, was quite wealthy; had everything he wanted, when he wanted it. He was also quite reclusive, and moved away from his parents when he was only fifteen. He never married, never had children…he preferred to live alone. The servants were not even allowed in the same room as he, and if they needed to speak with him, they had to write him a note."

"How horrible," Harry mused, narrowing his eyes in wonder.

"Wesley did not think so," Dumbledore replied simply. "But as much as he loved being alone, he loved hunting more. He loved to kill, and this was the only way to do it without causing a stir. He always went out into the most dangerous areas, the ones that the few people he spoke to warned him away from, and always armed only with his wand. After many years of success, Wesley finally met his end in Greece, while attempting to slay a Chimaera. There has only ever been one successful slaying of a Chimaera, and it was not by Wesley's hands. He died quite painfully, but even in death, has not lost his thirst for hunting."

"And killing?" Harry asked, quietly.

"Ghosts cannot kill humans, there is nothing he could do to truly harm you."

"Does he know that?" Harry asked. "Because if you'd seen the way he looked at me…" he trailed off briefly. "What could he be looking for if he can't harm anything?"

"As I said, I do not know," Dumbledore shook his head faintly. "It has been a long while since Wesley hunted. Slytherin, I've been told, brought the baron's ghost to the school as a means to protect his secrets. And it worked, most everyone that even glimpsed the Bloody Baron was terrified of him, and would never think of crossing him, despite that he was only a ghost."

"Does he think he's doing something for Slytherin then?" Harry suggested.

"I would think not," Dumbledore replied. "He is well aware that Slytherin passed on long ago, and simply decided to remain at the school. It was the only place he knew as a home, and everyone kept their distance. As other ghosts were brought in over the years, he did not seem entirely pleased, and on occasion, if there was one in particular he didn't like, that ghost would opt to leave shortly after their arrival."

"Have you ever seen him act like this before?" Harry asked. "Have you ever seen him when he's hunting?"

"On one occasion, I thought he might be," Dumbledore nodded. "It was a little over a year ago…maybe a year and half, but as suddenly as his strange behavior started…it ended. I asked him about it, and he would only say he had been mistaken."

"Do you believe him?" Harry asked.

"I believe he believed that, yes," Dumbledore nodded, looking suddenly as if he were trying to swallow hard, but couldn't, and raised his hand to his face just as he began to cough harshly. Harry looked around and spotted the glass of water that had appeared on the table when he'd first sat down. He grabbed it at once, starting to push it across to Dumbledore, not realizing the head minister was trying to gesture for him to stop, when suddenly the tall glass hit the middle of the table, and shattered.

Immediately, before Harry's mind could even register what had just happened, the thick steel door swung forcefully open, and two guards rushed into the cell, looking ready to attack.

"Is everything alright sir?" the one closer to him asked, while the other kept his eyes firmly on the head minister, as if he were some great danger in his present state.

"Everything is fi-" Harry began, cutting off abruptly as a thought struck him. "Did you hear the glass break? Have you been listening?" he asked, accusingly.

"No sir, we were alerted to a barrier disturbance and came to assist you," the guard replied evenly.

Harry held back from asking what a barrier disturbance was, thinking Malfoy would probably already know and figuring there must've been something he couldn't see between he and Albus, as the glass wouldn't just shatter on its own.

"If everything's alright we'll let you be sir," the guard said stiffly, eyeing the broken shards of glass on the table.

"I already told you everything's fine," Harry said impatiently, then feeling Draco wouldn't simply leave it there, continued. "You might want to speak with whomever it is that does the dishwashing around here as well," he sneered. "That glass was quite slippery."

"Reminds me of my nephew…he was very accident prone," Dumbledore spoke up then, nodding towards the fragments. To the guards, he must've looked as though he was just reminiscing, but his eyes were locked with Harry's. "Several things in my office found their way to the trash can because of him," he continued, chuckling a little.

"Enough old man, you're here for a meeting, not a walk down memory lane," the second guard said threateningly.

"What time is it?" Dumbledore asked, ignoring him.

Harry suddenly felt a jolt in his stomach, and realized he hadn't checked the time in a while, he pulled out his watch to find he only had seven minutes left.

"I have to go," he said abruptly, pushing away from the table and standing up.

"Alright," said the first guard, arching one eyebrow. "Right this way Mr. Malfoy," he said, motioning for Harry to step back to the corner of the room he had originally entered through. "Bring him back to his cell," he told the other guard, gesturing carelessly at Dumbledore.

Harry wanted to say something…anything, that might sound reassuring or just caring to the head minister, but had to bite his tongue. He watched for a brief moment as Albus was helped out of his chair, before turning back to the first guard.

A few seconds later, they had passed through the shimmering doorway and were in the middle of the room he'd started from. The warden was there, waiting to speak with him, and Harry glanced nervously at his watch.

"Did everything go well?" the warden asked, holding his hands together in front of him, an unpleasant smile on his face.

"Fine," Harry replied curtly. "I'm in a big hurry, however, and I really must be going…"

"Of course, Mr. Malfoy, of course," the warden nodded.

Three minutes left.

"Oh, and I heard of your complaint…I will speak with the dishwasher first thing."

"Good," Harry nodded impatiently.

"Well then, if that is all…do try and let us know if you plan on visiting again won't you?" the warden asked, politely.

"Alright," Harry replied quickly, feeling in a few seconds there would be no acting required on his part to act like Draco, he had to get out of there now and was beginning to feel desperate.

"Very well," the warden nodded, "Right this way, Mr. Malfoy," he said, turning away from Harry and facing the wall where the two guards were standing slightly apart from one another.

Harry didn't move. He knew they hadn't come in this way, the door that led to the main entrance had been on the wall behind him, not the one he was facing now.

Two minutes left.

"Look," he began, trying to sound demanding. "I already told you, I'm in a hurry…"

"Forgive me Mr. Malfoy," the warden began, sounding overly sincere, "but you told me earlier you had to be at the ministry for a meeting, did you not?"

"Wh-? Yes…" Harry stammered, confused.

"Well this is the ministry channel," the warden said, smiling and gesturing to the space between the two guards. "You remember, don't you? It will bring you straight back to the ministry building."

"Of course, I remember," Harry nodded stiffly, feeling his insides go cold. He tried frantically to think of a way out of this in the seconds he had left. If he was seen at the ministry now…well there was little chance it would turn out well.

One minute.

But if he was seen here it could turn out worse.

Harry decided to just go for it, it was better to get to the ministry and hope he could hide before he changed back, than to transform right here in front of the guards, who he realized, were all looking at him curiously.

"Yes well, I must be going then," he said hastily, stepping towards the blank wall. He could feel the sweat beading on his forehead, and prayed he didn't look as uneasy as he felt. His stomach was twisted in knots, and he had to raise a hand to loosen the collar of his shirt, when with a sudden sense of horror dawning on him, he realized…the change had begun. The shirt was growing tighter around his shoulders.

"You have to trigger it Mr. Malfoy," the warden said, seeing Harry standing there unmoving. "Remember?" he asked, pointing towards a patch of wall that was ever so slightly discolored, just beside the guard on the right.

Harry nodded briskly, immediately raising his hand and touching it to the wall. Half a second later, the barrier in front of him lit brightly, and he could feel that there was an open space in front of him. Without a second thought, wanting only to get away before he was himself again, Harry stepped hurriedly into the light.

The room he stumbled into was utterly dark, and thankfully empty. Harry could feel the pinching of the shirt now, and quickly pulled off Draco's robes for fear they might tear. After loosening the shirt near the collar, he turned around slowly and put his hand to the wall; it was completely solid, the doorway to Nabakza was gone. Taking a deep breath, Harry fumbled around in the dark, feeling his unruly hair hanging against his forehead once more, trying to find an exit. He felt his way around several chairs, which were set up evenly around a long table, and figured this must be some sort of meeting room, though he had no idea where in the ministry he was…what floor he was on.

When at last he reached the opposite wall, his fingers found what he'd been looking for. He took hold of the door handle and turned it slowly, then, after a moment of waiting, trying to hear if anyone might be nearby on the other side, he cautiously began to pull the door in.

The bright light hit his eyes harshly, and he involuntarily slammed them shut, before gradually reopening them and blinking several times. His stomach twisted slowly as he realized with a faint sense of panic, that he couldn't see clearly. He wasn't wearing his glasses…they were lying right where he'd left them, on the hearth in Hermione's apartment.

For a brief moment Harry froze, having no idea what to do now. He couldn't wander through the ministry feeling his way around and just hope he didn't run into anyone…but he couldn't just sit here either.

His decision was made for him, however, when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps, and quickly ducked back into the darkness. He shut the door as silently as possible, and backed up into the nearest corner. The footsteps grew closer and Harry held his breath as they neared the room he was in, only to feel his heart skip a beat, before beginning to pound in his chest, as they came to a stop.

Harry swore under his breath as the door began to open, and half a second later the room was bathed in light. He strained his eyes, trying to focus on the unclear figure that had entered the room, trying to think of what excuse he could possibly have for being here, when he heard a familiar voice.

"Potter?" Draco asked, clearly puzzled. "What are you doing in here? Trying to get yourself arrested?"

"Draco," Harry breathed, not sure if he should be relieved or worried. "Where's R-" he cut off abruptly, realizing Malfoy would probably not have known Ron was following him.

"Are those my robes?" Draco asked, an edge in his voice now. "Where did you get those? And how did you make it to this room without anyone noticing?"

"I'll explain everything, I swear," Harry said quickly. "But I need your help-" he cut off abruptly as another familiar voice reached his ears. Draco must've left the door open somewhat, and Harry could hear Marshall Thurston's voice, speaking with someone, moving up the hall.

Harry was at a loss for words, and was fully starting to panic. He was someplace he had been told he wasn't allowed to be after impersonating a member of the ministry to go somewhere else he also wasn't allowed. Now several more ministry members who held no great liking for him were on their way to the room he was trapped in at that very moment with someone who he didn't quite think would help him, and to top it off he couldn't see anything other than colors and shapes.

Letting out a shaky breath, Harry heard the ministers heading his way reach the door to the room at last, and was preparing himself for the worst, when suddenly he felt a hand on his left arm.

Before Harry had a chance to utter one word, Draco wrenched him halfway across the room. Harry heard the sound of a door opening before he was thrust forward into darkness again. His foot encountered something heavy, and he cringed at the clanging sound that it made when it was shoved into the wall, followed by utter silence.

The space around him was cramped and small, and he knew at once he was in a closet, but he didn't dare try to adjust his position, as the voices that had been in the hall just seconds ago were now in the room he'd been standing in. Harry held his breath, as it was all he could do, and started to listen.

"Mr. Malfoy," Thurston said, an overly polite edge in his tone. "We were just looking for you…I'd hoped you'd still be here."

Draco was silent for a moment, and Harry wished fervently he'd told Malfoy what he'd done…

"What is it you wanted?" Draco asked cautiously.

"To ask about your meeting with Albus," Thurston said briskly. "Warden Binh just contacted me, said you requested a private meeting with Dumbledore, and then left in a bit of a hurry."

Harry waited, forcing back the panic threatening to wash over him. If Draco turned him in, he would be arrested for what he'd done, and Harry wouldn't put it past him to do just that. Malfoy had made it quite clear how he wanted nothing to do with helping them, and if he covered for Harry now, there would be no turning back.

"I…I think…" Draco began slowly. "I'm sure it must've seemed as though I was acting…not quite myself," he said. "I didn't get much sleep last night…and I'm afraid it's catching up with me…"

Harry couldn't believe it! He began to feel a glimmer of hope that he might get out of this.

"Working too hard, Mr. Malfoy?" Thurston asked, wryly.

"No sir," Draco replied, forcing a chuckle at the stale joke.

"Is there anything we need to discuss then?" Thurston went on. "Anything of importance you'd like to share with me?"

"No sir," Malfoy replied evenly.

"No?" Thurston asked, arching one eyebrow. "Why then did you decide to visit Albus without first clearing it through me?" he asked, a sharp edge to his tone.

"I…I'm sorry sir," Draco stammered. "It won't happen again."

"Why did it happen this time?" Thurston pressed.

Another long pause, Harry waited tensely, his muscles aching from the awkward position he was remaining in.

"I must've…I…I didn't…" Draco stammered, before hesitating a moment, and continuing with a defeated sigh. "I forgot sir, I sincerely apologize…it won't-"

"Happen again," Thurston interrupted sneeringly. "That's quite right. It won't happen again because you are no longer permitted to visit Dumbledore without either myself or one of my assistants."

"Sir, please," Draco began, sounding horrified. "It was a mistake, I-"

"I don't care what your excuse is Mr. Malfoy, I expect better from you," Thurston cut in briskly. "Your father was a good man, with shining morals that he upheld, no matter what. What happened to him is an outrage, and I intend to have his name cleared as soon as all of this nonsense is past us. With someone like Lucius Malfoy having raised you, I would hope you might use a bit more of his good sense."

"Yes sir," Draco replied stiffly.

"Now," Thurston continued. "I expect a detailed report concerning the subject of your meeting with Albus Dumbledore on my desk by 7 a.m. tomorrow morning. Good day, Mr. Malfoy."

Seconds later, Harry heard a door close, and the room went silent. The quiet lasted for several minutes, and Harry was wondering if Draco had left as well, when suddenly he heard the handle to the closet turn, and the door was slowly pulled open.

"Why?" was all Draco asked, icily. Harry straightened up, his eyes adjusting to the light of the room once again, as he fumbled his way out of the closet.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, feeling far guiltier than he ever imagined he would.

"Are you trying to get me fired?" Draco persisted, his eyes flashing poisonously. "Did I do something so horrible that you decided you should try and ruin my life?"

"I didn't do it to get you in trouble," Harry said, wishing he could see Draco clearly, instead of the lumpy shape in front of him. "Thank you for not turning me in."

"Not yet I haven't," Draco spat angrily. "I wanted to hear the amazing excuse I'm sure you're going to tell me as to why you needed to impersonate me to get in to see Dumbledore."

"I needed to ask him…about the Bloody Baron," Harry replied quietly.

"And?" Draco prompted.

Harry remained silent.

"That's…it…?" Draco asked crisply. "That's the only reason you needed to speak with Dumbledore? You couldn't ask anyone at the school, perhaps? I know you don't like Snape but do you think maybe he might've been the better choice this time?"

"Keep your voice down," Harry hushed him nervously. "I did ask Snape, he couldn't answer my question."

"So you steal my robes, have your girlfriend pull out some of my hair, and become me for a while so you can sneak into a highly guarded prison to ask about a dead guy?"

"I don't know what else to say…I really am sorry…" Harry said helplessly.

Draco went silent, turning away and moving several steps across the room, glaring hatefully at the wall.

"What were you going to do before?" Harry asked. "When you first came to this room…just before Thurston arrived."

"I don't believe it's any of your business," Draco replied icily.

Harry nodded faintly; he had no right to press Malfoy for anything at the moment.

After several more minutes of silence, however, Draco began to speak.

"I was looking for Thurston," he said stiffly. "He wasn't in his office…it was probably while he was in the conference room, taking the message from the warden about my being at the prison. His office is on this floor, so I just started checking the rooms, and happened to find you before I found him."

"Oh," Harry nodded, wanting to ask why he was looking for Thurston…but feeling it would be wrong to push.

"You used Polyjuice, right?" Draco asked suddenly.

"Yes," Harry answered.

"Does it hurt?"

"Very much," Harry nodded, suddenly realizing what Draco was saying. No matter how much time went by, he still couldn't get used to Draco knowing when he was in pain. It seemed to come as a surprise every time he heard about it. "You felt it, didn't you?"

"Well Dumbledore isn't exactly around right now, so I didn't know who to tell, and at the time I didn't know what caused it," Draco said briskly. "Normally I come in late on Saturdays…I was going to ask Thurston if I could be a bit later than I'd planned…so I could go to the school…"

Harry felt the guilt weighing heavily on him increase as he realized what Malfoy was saying. He was going to the school to check on Harry, or get help for him if he wasn't there…

"Thank you," was all he could think to say.

"Look, I covered for you this time, but I'm not going to again. I just don't like the idea of feeling whatever it is they'd do to you if you were caught," Malfoy said crisply. "So I'm going to do one more thing for you and help you out of this building, as you obviously can't see to find your own way, and then I'm done with you. Don't ask me for help, and if you try to impersonate me again I'm coming out with it."

"I won't, I swear," Harry assured him, truly meaning it. "Thank you, I really mean it, I-"

"Here," Draco cut in impatiently, and Harry felt something light and soft hit him in the chest as he fumbled to catch it. "Put those on, no one will really look at you if you're wearing that."

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"A janitor's uniform," Draco replied. "I found them in the closet you were in…just put them on, alright? We have to get going."

"Where have you been?" Hermione cried shrilly when Harry finally stepped out of the hearth into her apartment.

"We thought you were caught," Ron added, worriedly.

"What are you wearing?" Hermione spoke up again.

"What happened to Draco?" Ron asked, "I lost track of him when he apparated…I had no idea where he went."

"Guys I'll tell you everything, just calm down a minute," Harry said, shushing with his hands. "Um, Hermione? Can you hand me my glasses?"

When he could see clearly again, Harry looked at his friends, who were staring back at him anxiously from where they stood by the hearth.

"We've been worried sick," Hermione said then, looking fearfully at Harry. "You were gone much longer than an hour…Mel's been calling every few minutes now…we thought you'd been arrested…or worse!"

As if on cue, a whirl of purple flames filled the fireplace, and Mel's head appeared within them.

"I couldn't get through a moment ago, did you hear from him yet?" she asked at once, when suddenly her eyes fell upon Harry and an expression of sheer relief washed over her face. "Oh thank God," she whispered, bringing a hand up to her eyes as she closed them tightly.

"Mel, it's alright," Harry said gently, kneeling down in front of the flames and wishing she were there with him now.

"You had us so worried," Mel said, her voice shaking.

"I've heard," Harry said, smiling softly. "There were a few problems, but I'm fine now, see? I'm here."

"You're never doing that again," Mel said with finality.

"Trust me, I agree," Harry replied seriously.

"Good," she nodded, letting a small smile finally touch her lips. "I have to get going…I'll get in trouble if I don't stop taking breaks, but I want to hear all about what happened later."

"You will," Harry said softly. He watched for a moment as her face faded from view, before slowly standing up to face Ron and Hermione.

The three of them crossed to the couches together before Harry began to retell what had happened. He covered every last detail he could recall of his visit to Nabakza, and all that Dumbledore had told him, before continuing on to his narrow escape from the ministry.

"Draco used all the back halls and stairways to help me get downstairs," Harry said as he finished the story. "Once we reached the lobby, I was able to use one of the floo grates, and made it here."

"And after all that he still won't help us?" Ron said incredulously.

"Well I didn't exactly give him much reason to," Harry said, guiltily. "I impersonated him to speak with Dumbledore about a personal matter, and ended up getting him in trouble because of it. He could've just turned me in…and now he has to make something up for that report Thurston wants him to do, plus he lost his privilege for the private meetings…I'm not going to ask him for anything more…"

"So it was all for nothing," Ron commented miserably. "I mean, fine the baron used to be a hunter…we already knew he was looking for something, and we still don't know what."

"Well Dumbledore did say he thought the baron might be acting strangely a little more than a year ago, right?" Hermione asked.

"Right," Harry nodded. "But so much happened last year…"

"Still, at least we have something to go on," Hermione stated.

"You don't think it has to do with the entities, do you?" Ron asked, worriedly.

"I don't know," Harry replied, shaking his head. "We know Saaneeraa was there at the beginning of the year…Draam about midway through, I don't know about the others."

"They wouldn't be able to sneak in to Hogwarts now with all the added protections, would they?" Hermione asked.

"Again, I don't know," Harry said. "I don't know the extent of their powers…but for some reason, I don't think it's them. They'd need help getting out of Faerun, and I don't think Voldemort would quite be willing to do that this time."

"And seeing as how the Lestranges work for Voldemort, that would rule them out as well," Ron added.

"Right," Harry nodded. "Besides, I don't think of the entities as the type to sit around and wait…if they were in the school, they would have tried something by now." He paused for a moment, considering, before sighing inaudibly and speaking again. "I think for now I just have to keep a close watch on the baron…there's not much else I can do. If we find out anything else, maybe we could just ask your dad if he'll ask Dumbledore about it for us."

"Right," Ron replied, sardonically. "As soon as he's finished figuring out what the mark on the wall was. Whoever was hiding it didn't just move the painting, they did something to the burn mark…dad thinks if they'd had time, they would have erased it, but instead they just scrambled it. He's having a hard time finding out exactly what it was, or whose wand it came from."

"And they still can't ask any of the paintings?" Harry asked.

"No," Ron replied solemnly. "Whatever curse the person who froze them used…it's not one that's easy to neutralize."

"Fantastic," Harry said flatly, shaking his head and beginning to stand. "Alright, it's getting late and I should get going…I need to return these robes to Mel…"

"Wait just one more minute," Hermione said quickly. "There was something else I wanted to ask you."

"What?" Harry asked curiously, remaining in his seat.

"When you broke the glass in the cell, you said Dumbledore mentioned Travis breaking things all the time," Hermione began.

"He did," Harry said, "He looked right at me when he said it."

"Do you think he was trying to tell you something?" Hermione prompted.

"Well, I was only ever there once when Travis broke something…he was fooling around with my broom while Albus and I were talking…and accidentally knocked that old crystal ball off the desk-" Harry stopped abruptly, realizing what he had just said.

"What is it?" Hermione and Ron asked in unison, noticing the sudden change.

"The crystal ball," Harry murmured. "I can't believe it, why didn't I think of that before?" he said in frustration.

"Anytime you want to let us in on this…" Ron spoke up impatiently.

"Remember the picture of Dumbledore's office, the one in the Daily Prophet that we spent hours looking over?" Harry asked quickly.

"How could I forget?" Ron asked dryly.

"The crystal ball!" Hermione exclaimed suddenly. "There was one in the picture!"

"Exactly," Harry said. "After Travis had broken it."

"So maybe Dumbledore got another one?" Ron suggested with a shrug.

"No," Harry shook his head. "I don't think so. He wasn't terribly upset over the loss of that one…said he never really used it. I don't think he rushed out to replace it."

"Besides that had to be what he was hinting to you about earlier," Hermione said.

"We have to talk to your dad," Harry said suddenly, looking to Ron. "I'm assuming they left Dumbledore's office as it was, right? For evidence?"

"I think so," Ron nodded.

"Good," Harry said. "Let's ask him if there's a crystal ball there…tell him we think it needs to be checked out. There must be something special about it…and we have to find out what."

Slightly over half an hour later, Harry was once again at the back door to Madam Malkin's. He dropped off the robes with Mel who had no time to talk. She had to finish them before Draco came to pick them up.

Harry decided to wait until Mel's shift was over, and spent the next hour in Diagon Alley. He stopped by Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes to say hello to Fred and George, before heading over to Quality Quidditch Supplies to have a look around.

As he was heading back out onto the street to look for another shop, he was surprised to see Mel passing by. He caught up to her easily, putting a hand on her arm.

"Off early?" he smiled.

Mel just looked at him for few seconds, before throwing her arms around his neck in the middle of the crowded street. Harry just held her for a long moment until he felt her grip loosen, and she slowly slid away from him.

"Please, tell me what happened today?" she asked quietly. Harry nodded gently.

"Let's find someplace to sit," he said, not wanting to talk about anything with so many people around. "Are you hungry, we could…wait, are you feeling better? Maybe we should just…"

"I'm fine," Mel replied faintly. "Really, I just want to know what happened to you."

Harry nodded, before leading her back up the street to a small restaurant. They ordered an appetizer so they wouldn't be disturbed, which materialized before them on the table, before Harry finally began to retell all that had happened since he last saw Mel. She didn't interrupt, listening intently to everything he said, looking increasingly horrified with each passing minute, until he finally finished speaking.

"That was too close," she breathed immediately, definite fear in her tone.

"The important thing is only Draco knows…and he hasn't told."

"Yet," Mel muttered. "If at some point he thinks it's going to benefit him…"

"Mel, there's no use in worrying about it," Harry said gently, reaching across the table and taking one of her hands.

"I can't help it," she sighed, twisting her hand and slipping her fingers through his. "If you had been caught…"

"Mel, I wasn't," Harry cut her off softly. "And you don't have to worry about me trying that again either. If we need any information from Dumbledore, we'll have to ask Mr. Weasley to get it for us." He paused for a brief moment, looking longingly into her deep blue eyes. "I was really worried about you this morning, you looked like you were going to be ill. You're sure you're alright?" he asked quietly.

"Why, don't I look alright?" Mel asked, teasingly, smiling for the first time since they'd sat down.

"You look beautiful," Harry said, smiling back at her, before continuing, "but you didn't answer my question."

"Nothing gets past you," Mel joked.

"Alright, where did this come from?" Harry laughed. "Am I not allowed to know when you're feeling ill? You're always so worried about me it's only fair I get to return the sentiment."

"I already told you I'm fine," Mel said, grinning softly. "I didn't feel well earlier, but it passed."

Harry looked at her for a moment, deciding whether or not he wanted to push the issue, when the check flitted lazily down onto the table.

"Think they're trying to tell us something?" Mel asked wryly as Harry reached into his money sack.

"You mean something like you're taking up a perfectly good table on a busy Saturday night?" Harry asked, standing from his seat and helping Mel up from hers.

"Something like that, yes," Mel laughed, as the two of them stepped back out into the chilly evening air. They walked for several moments, and Harry put his arm around Mel to help shield her from the wind, pulling her close to him.

"How're classes going?" she asked softly. "We haven't talked about it in so long…it's all been about the Polyjuice Potion lately."

"They're fine," Harry laughed, telling her about the few occasions on which Hadley had caused trouble. "But I'll be meeting with her parents sometime next Month, so hopefully they can help me out a little…" he joked.

"It's really nice that you care so much about her though," Mel smiled, "that you'd go through this…I mean, she's not even in your house…"

"I care about all of the students," Harry replied gently, continuing with a wry smirk. "Which is probably why I got asked to be a chaperone at the dance next weekend."

"That should be fun," Mel grinned.

"Sure," Harry laughed. "Want to help?"

Mel paused for a moment, looking up at him and smirking.

"Do you want me to?"

"Wait, do you mean that?" Harry asked, not sure if she was joking with him.

"Of course," Mel smiled. "If you think I'd be allowed."

"I…I don't see why you wouldn't be," Harry said happily. "It'll be fun," he said, actually beginning to look forward to the dance.

"Great," Mel replied as they finally reached the floo station. "What time should I be ready?"

"If I tell you the correct time will you be ready? Or will I be waiting around for an hour?" Harry teased.

"Someone's going to be chaperoning alone…" Mel warned playfully.

"Six-thirty," Harry laughed. "The dance starts at seven, but I have to be there a bit before then."

"Alright," Mel nodded as Harry handed the clerk the toll money for her. "Six-thirty it is." She raised her head as he leant down, and they kissed softly, before she stepped into the grate and was whisked away in the swirling colors. Harry handed over his toll as well, and was soon on his way back to Hogsmeade.

"It's not there," Ron said darkly as he and Harry finally reached his office. It was Monday evening, and Ron had sent Harry an owl saying he needed to speak with him. Harry sent back telling him anytime after classes would be fine, and when he arrived, the two had immediately set off upstairs, to speak in private.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes in confusion.

"I mean it's gone," Ron said. "I told my dad you realized that the crystal ball we saw in the picture of Dumbledore's office shouldn't be there, and maybe he should check it out. He said he didn't remember seeing one on his last few visits while he was working on the burn mark. So he took the photograph with him to make sure he was looking in the right spot, and it wasn't there. He checked the rest of the office too…nothing."

"So someone took it," Harry said darkly. "Which means there was something important about it."

"Yeah, good luck figuring out what though," Ron said dolefully.

"Is it possible someone just moved it?" Harry asked. "Another minister maybe? They could've wanted to do checks on all of the items, and didn't put that one back…?" he trailed off, weakly.

"Dad doesn't think so," Ron said, plopping down onto the couch as he spoke. "He said everyone he's working with knows enough to not take anything from the room, so whoever moved it is most likely not bringing it back."

"Dammit," Harry muttered, sitting back in his own seat. "Everything we find keeps getting taken away from us…"

"Thurston obviously had this planned out," Ron said bitterly.

"Well if he did then why all the mistakes?" Harry asked. "The robes we found in the closet that Ewan tried to stop us from seeing. The burn mark on the wall that your dad said could have been erased if there'd been more time. Now the crystal ball that was in the photograph, proving it was in the office at the time of the murders, being stolen…or more likely, removed from the scene of the crime."

"So he didn't plan as well as he thought," Ron shrugged. "I mean he got what he wanted…Dumbledore's in prison, and if the trial goes the way Thurston wants it to, in a few months he could possibly be head minister."

"I don't know," Harry shook his head in frustration. He sighed inwardly, wishing they could just find one solid piece of evidence that would prove Dumbledore's innocence. "Maybe…" he began after a minute or two, "maybe he didn't get what he wanted."

"How do you figure?" Ron asked, his tone expressing clearly just how insane he considered that statement to be.

"It just doesn't seem to fit," Harry said quietly. "Travis and Simone are murdered…and Dumbledore is left alive."

"Because Thurston wanted him framed," Ron cut in as if it should be obvious, "so he'd be out of the way and give Thurston a chance at leading the ministry."

"Right but think about it," Harry said quickly. "A trial is a big chance to give Dumbledore the opportunity to get out of this mess-"

"Not with what we've been able to find so far," Ron interrupted miserably.

"But it's still a chance," Harry said. "And Thurston doesn't strike me as the type who would want to leave that opening. If the person who killed Travis and Simone was able to take Dumbledore by surprise and knock him out…well they could have just as easily killed him right there. Then there'd be no trial, just an investigation…he wouldn't have to wait as long to take over the head minister position."

"That would all be only if he didn't get caught," Ron said.

"I'm sure he'd have someone all set up to take the fall," Harry said flatly.

"I don't know," Ron shook his head, doubtfully. "If Thurston had wanted Dumbledore dead don't you think the person that knocked him out would've used the killing curse instead?"

Harry thought for a moment, trying to figure out an explanation as to why that would be…but finally he just nodded slowly.

"I suppose you're right," he said quietly. "If he had the time to do one, why not the other?"

"Don't worry about it yet," Ron said quietly. "My dad, Marzia, Sirius and more ministry members than Thurston realizes are working to help clear Dumbledore's name. We'll figure this out."

Harry looked at his friend for a long moment before nodding faintly.

"I hope you're right."

Harry decided to try to take Ron's advice, and not worry about the lack of evidence they had to help them clear Dumbledore's name. As the week went by, he put his mind into the lessons for class, and looking after the students. When the weekend arrived, however, he found he was far more excited about the dance than he thought he would be.

As Saturday evening drew nearer, Harry hurried to finish getting ready. He was going to pick up Mel at the floo station in Hogsmeade and they would return to the school from there. He wanted to do it properly and meet her at her house, but she wouldn't hear of it.

"It'll only be a few minutes," Harry had tried to tell her midway through the week.

"Maybe that's all the Shadow Walkers need," Mel stated matter-of-factly. "Dumbledore and Marzia specifically told you they would find you much easier in the muggle world, and I'm not going to let you chance it."

And that had been the end of that. So after changing into his black dress robes and passing on the usual attempt to straighten out his hair, Harry grabbed his Moontrimmer and headed downstairs.

He flew the short distance to Hogsmeade, landing easily and starting towards the floo station. Once inside, he moved away from the flow of traffic, so as not to get in the way of anyone trying to get to a grate, and waited. He had debated with himself exactly how early he should arrive, and finally decided on five minutes before Mel had promised to arrive, as surely on the slim chance she got there early, it would be no more than that.

As he'd expected, however, she was nowhere to be seen, and Harry could only stand back and wait.

Five, ten, fifteen, twenty minutes later and still no sign of her. Despite knowing this was nothing out of the ordinary when it came to Mel, Harry couldn't stop the worrisome thoughts from filling his head. Everything from her hurting herself to someone attacking her was running through his mind, and he was just beginning to consider the idea of just going to her house, when finally she appeared.

She stepped out of the floo grate and into the bright lights of the station, spotting Harry at once and smiling brilliantly. For a moment, all he could do was return the gesture, perfectly content with just taking her in. She always looked…incomparable to anyone else on special occasions, and this was no exception. She'd done her hair up in the way he once told her was his favorite, with dozens of tiny braids weaved throughout, while the rest of it was left down. Only now she'd gone a step further; a few small sections of her straight locks had been made wavy, and there were streaks of pale lavender interspersed all through it. The color in her hair matched the color of her dress robes perfectly, and she wore a long white skirt that hung down to her ankles underneath.

"Sorry, I know, I know," she said as she finally reached the place where he stood waiting. "I'm late, and now you're late…we should go…is something wrong?" she asked suddenly, realizing he hadn't yet said anything.

"No," Harry replied at once, smiling sheepishly. "Everything's fine…you look wonderful."

"Thank you," Mel blushed.

"Though you know, I was getting ready to send the search party for you," he joked, decidedly not telling her what he'd really been ready to do.

"The longer you stand here yelling at me the later we're going to be," Mel teased.

"I'm not yelling," Harry said, rolling his eyes playfully as she slipped his hand into his and they headed for the exit. They walked quickly back up the street together, getting smiles and nods from everyone who passed.

"So this is what all the attention feels like," Mel grinned when they finally reached the clearing. "Why don't you like it, again?"

"You have no idea," Harry laughed as he kept the broom low so she could get on easily. "Though I think you have to dress like that more often, and walk everywhere with me…it'll guarantee no one is looking my direction."

Mel ducked her head modestly, a small grin on her lips as Harry lifted them into the air, and started on their way back to the school.

After making it to the great hall and apologizing for being late, Harry and Mel spoke briefly with the other teachers who would also be keeping watch at the dance.

The students began to arrive little by little, until the hall was filled with laughter and chatter. Everyone had dressed up, some of the girls obviously trying to outdo one another, but overall it seemed everyone was having fun.

Dinner was to be served first, as usual. Harry and Mel made their way up to the head table after making sure all the students had gotten a space at a table, and took seats near the end.

"Wow, I feel so…odd, sitting up here," Mel laughed quietly, looking out over the great hall.

"I know it," Harry grinned. "I couldn't get used to it at first…it took a while," he said, glancing down at the menu between them.

"Salad, I'm assuming?" Harry asked jokingly.

"I don't know," Mel said uncertainly. "I don't think I'm really in the mood for it…"

"Not in the mood?" Harry asked, somewhat surprised. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I don't live off of salad, you know," Mel laughed, elbowing him playfully.

"Yeah, but it's a rare occasion when you don't order it for dinner," Harry said, smirking.

"Will you just pick your own dinner and stop worrying about mine," Mel said, feigning exasperation.

"Fine, fine," Harry laughed, watching as she reached for her glass of water and downed nearly all of it before setting it down and letting it refill.

"Thirsty?" Harry asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Very," Mel replied noncommittally.

Twenty minutes and two glasses of water later, they finally gave their orders. Harry went for the steak, and grinned as he heard Mel order a plain turkey sandwich and a bowl of tomato soup.

"Soup and sandwich?" he asked. "Is that even on the menu?"

"Listen to you with all the questions tonight," she teased.

"Sorry," he grinned, his tone only slightly defensive. "Just unlike you is all…are you mad at me for being curious?"

"Not at all," Mel grinned, reaching again for her water glass. She set it down quickly this time, however, and pushed her seat back from the table. "Excuse me for just a minute," she whispered, smiling politely. "I need to use the ladies' room."

"Not surprising," Harry laughed to himself as he watched Mel exit through the door behind the head table. However, part of him was concerned over her seemingly new habits. He hoped she wasn't ill, though to be honest she didn't look it. Her hair was silkier looking than he'd ever seen it, and her skin had a very healthy glow. But he didn't know what else could be causing it.

When she returned a few moments later, their meals materialized onto the table in front of them.

"Feeling alright?" Harry asked as she opened her napkin.

"Harry, I'm fine," Mel laughed. "Stop worrying so much…oh this smells so good…" she trailed off, looking hungrily at the bowl of soup.

Harry chuckled silently, somewhat amused by her behavior, and started in on his own dinner. He watched curiously when she got to her sandwich though, as she pulled off the meat and rolled it up, eating it separately, before ripping the bread into shreds, and nibbling at the tiny bits of it.

He didn't say anything though, not wanting to sound like he was pestering her any further, and when dinner was finished the music started up at once.

"Are we allowed to dance?" Mel asked quietly.

"Some," Harry replied with a grin. "We just have to make sure we're still keeping an eye on things."

"Oh look, there's Ginny," Mel said suddenly, gesturing towards the youngest Weasley who had just stepped out onto the dance floor with another student. "She looks so pretty in blue, doesn't she?"

"She does," Harry agreed, beginning to stand from his chair. "Shall we then?" he asked, holding his hand out to her. She took it gently and the two began walking around the edge of the great hall, doing as the other chaperones were, making sure there were no disturbances.

After a brief while without any problems, Harry and Mel finally joined in on the dancing, breaking every so often if Mel needed a drink or had to run to the bathroom.

"Harry, Mel," Ginny called out happily, spotting the couple and coming up to them midway through the evening. "I've been trying to get over to you two all night…but keep getting sidetracked."

"Two many boys asking you to dance?" Harry asked, grinning.

"I wish," Ginny replied with a laugh, blushing slightly.

"Who are you here with?" Mel asked, smiling as she nodded towards the short light-haired boy Ginny had been dancing with. "I don't recognize him."

"Oh, just my friend Holden," Ginny said casually. "He's in Hufflepuff, and we thought it'd be fun to come together."

"Just don't let Ron see him," Harry joked.

"Oh don't even remind me," Ginny groaned, rolling her eyes. "He was so horrible to Elliot last year…"

"Concerned older brother that he is," Harry laughed.

"No, he really did go overboard, I remember," Mel smiled, continuing in a more hushed tone. "Excuse me…I'll be right back."

Ginny looked after her as she headed out the door yet again before turning to Harry, a curious expression on her face.

"Bathroom," Harry whispered, grinning as the next song started up. "Want to dance?" he asked, offering his arm. Ginny's smile couldn't have been any wider as she nodded happily, allowing him to lead her onto the dance floor. He spun her around to the beat of the music, the two of them just having a good time. As the song reached its end, however, Ginny's smile faltered.

"Um…Professor Ryan's here," she said quietly.

"Fantastic," Harry muttered, hoping he could avoid speaking to him.

"It looks like he's bothering Mel," she said, nodding behind Harry, uncertainly. He turned quickly to see Mel standing by the doorway near the head table, and Troy right in front of her, holding one of her arms so she couldn't walk away.

"Ginny, I'm sorry, please excuse me," Harry said quickly, before starting immediately on his way across the room.