A Switched Chance

by LunaStorm

In which Hermione attempts a time-travelling ritual without due preparation and Harry happily goes along for the ride, and both have to cope with living their best friend's life.

12. 12 Seen and Unforseen

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize – be it character, location, idea or line – belongs to others, I may be playing with them but I make no profit from this.

---

A/N: Since it has been so long, here's a little synopsis of what happened in earlier chapters: Harry and Hermione tried a time travelling ritual around Christmas of their year on the run, which worked to a point, sending them back to their eleven year old selves; however, Harry found himself in Hermione's body and vice versa. Harry in Hermione's body is now known as Leia, a short haired, energetic muggleborn prodigy, while Hermione in Harry's body is called Sky, a more quiet and scholarly Boy-Who-Lived than anybody expected, with totally unexpected skills in the Mind Arts; they have done their best to adapt to the situation, dealing with various problems - ranging from their magic being difficult to control to dealing with their best friends' families, from meeting people they saw die to facing puberty of the wrong gender… and they are working to further their main goal of defeating Voldemort, along with other goals like neutralizing Snape, getting their generation ready to survive the war, promoting inter-house solidarity, locating the Horcruxes, freeing Sirius… and perhaps doing their homework well too…

A/N2: I had a lot of fun with the Baron (and there is an actual reason he's using Middle English this time, which will come into play in later chapters), but in case his words are impossible to decipher, as after all, you don't have tones, gestures and context to help like Leia, you'll find the whole conversation in modern English at the end of the chapter.

---

A… Switched Chance

12. Seen and Unforseen

It was all everybody seemed to be able to talk about. The infamous Sirius Black, fearsome dark wizard, convicted murderer, had escaped from the most secure prison in the magical world!

The upperclassmen in Slytherin and Ravenclaw, the only ones who made a point to have the newspaper delivered regularly, were hounded by their housemates for all details made public, that were then hastily relayed to younger Housemates and friends across House tables and gradually trickled down the gossip chain to the first years, who were consequently in an uproar.

Everybody had a theory or five and they became more and more outlandish as they retold them, though Leia noticed with a bit of amusement that nobody had yet topped the story Hannah Abbott had claimed the First Time, about Sirius being able to turn into a bush.

The whole group of Harry's friends was reacting with dismay and worry. The Gryffindors shot Sky nervous glances and muttered among each other. One after the other, members of the Sky Club from the other Houses scurried up to the Gryffindor table, reporting what they'd heard and hushedly conferring on the matter.

Sky played his part perfectly, keeping his head down with a grim countenance and toying with his food instead of eating.

Leia sat close to him, for all appearances offering comfort, and kept a keen eye on the students intensely whispering as well as the worried-looking staff gravely discussing the Prophet. McGonagall, who had carelessly spread the newspaper open over her scrambled eggs, looked devastated; Leia hoped she didn't blame herself for helping with their little plan.

Towards the end of breakfast, Daphne descended upon them, bringing a fresh copy of the paper for everybody to read first-hand, though she refused to elaborate on how she'd acquired it, despite Ron's needling.

Leia was surprised when Sky took advantage of the situation to propose that the Club got a subscription to The Daily Prophet of their own.

"Half the stuff the upperclassmen are telling us makes no sense! Wouldn't it be better if we could read the news directly every time? I mean, it's not like we can ignore what's going on, can we?" He looked down sadly. "It- it affects some of us too closely."

"All of us," corrected Susan grimly.

"Sky's right," said Neville quietly. "This kind of news isn't like reading about the Minister's speeches and other boring stuff. This is important."

"Yes, but it won't always be so, will it? I mean, this is something extraordinary," said Lavender, looking worried. "It has to be."

There were general nods of assent.

"But on the other hand," said Terry slowly, "this isn't the first time the news affect us directly. Remember how hard it was to follow the whole Snape business? Even when more people started receiving the paper everyday?"

"Right! Getting Ron's brother to read us his copy of the Prophet is not my idea of fun!" muttered Padma from where she was squeezed next to her sister. Percy's patronizing attitude had admittedly been hard to bear.

"That's why I think we should get a subscription for the Club, all together. We won't always be interested in all of the news, but we can keep an eye on things," replied Sky.

"It's not a bad idea," commented Daphne pensively. She'd somehow claimed the central seat in her tight-knit group and looked rather regal with the newspaper arranged in front of her, propped up a goblet, and everybody hanging from her lips.

"We could take turns," elaborated Kevin. "Each of us could read the paper one day and then tell the others if there's anything of notice. Maybe save the main articles for future reference or something."

Murmurs of agreements followed the proposal.

"I've done some budgeting," said Sky, as usual showing his/her penchant for thinking ahead, "and the subscription for a year costs 5 Galleons and 9 Sickles, so if we split among all of us, it'll only be 4 Sickles each."

"I'm in," said Leia promptly, quickly imitated by many others.

A few were frowning, but Susan interjected with calm determination: "We can think on it and decide later. In the meanwhile, let's hear today's news."

"Here we go, then," said Daphne and started reading aloud: "Possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in Azkaban fortress, Sirius Black is once again terrorizing the magical community, ten years after the awful massacre in which he murdered thirteen people with a single curse…"

The sensationalizing article contained nothing they didn't already know, but it was still a grim and subdued group that made their way out of the Great Hall, talking softly and trying to reassure each other that the teachers had everything under control.

Padma made a point to remind everyone that Hogwarts was protected by more than just walls and Leia tuned her out as she started quoting Hogwarts, A History. Leia herself was just relieved there had been no mentions of Dementors being deployed to Hogwarts, this time.

Near the doors, they realized that a group of Slytherins was gathered right on their path, talking loudly and shooting malicious glances their way – as if they were waiting for them. Or possibly, for Harry, since the topic of the conversation was Sirius Black.

It took Leia a moment to recognize why the group looked odd to her: it was its composition, more familiar in her other life but rather unexpected now. Malfoy was in the centre, holding the stage like he hadn't had a chance to do this time around. Something seemed to have shifted in the internal dynamics of the lower years Slytherin, and it was clear that the blond boy was enjoying his moment immensely.

When he caught sight of Sky, as always in the middle of their group, his thin mouth curved in a mean smile.

"Of course, if it was me," he said loudly, "I would want to do something. I wouldn't be staying in school like a good boy, I'd be out there looking for him." He struck a virtuous pose, playing up for his audience.

Leia felt her heart sank. Malfoy must be telling everybody about Black being Harry Potter's godfather… not that it was a secret or anything, but she knew the Snakes would milk it for all it was worth and she worried that she couldn't manage to react to their taunts as appropriate for a Muggleborn who believed him a heinous criminal…

Malfoy preened sickeningly at the attention the other Slytherins were bestowing on him, though his smug look flickered when he realized Sky was supremely ignoring him. Leia fisted her hands viciously to be able to do the same.

Maybe they would have made it safely out and to a place where she could vent, if it wasn't for Ron.

"What are you talking about, Malfoy?" the red-head said roughly, apparently incapable of leaving the Slytherin to stew in his juice.

Malfoy's delighted smugness returned in full force and he contemptuously ignored Ron, focusing instead on Sky.

"Don't you know, Potter?" breathed Malfoy, his pale eyes narrowed. "My father told me the entire truth…"

"I highly doubt that," muttered Leia resentfully.

"…but of course, you don't have a father… I suppose I should feel sorry for you and inform you myself – as an act of pity, you know…"

"Why, you vicious little cockroach!" hissed Parvati while Leia and Sky both stiffened and Malfoy's cohort sniggered.

"I don't need anything from you, Malfoy, much less the twisted and incomplete information you might be able to provide," said Sky with calm dignity which Leia admired. She was holding her wand so tightly it almost hurt with the effort of not drawing it.

Malfoy sneered unpleasantly, irritated that the green-eyed boy wasn't raising to his baiting: "Or maybe you don't care enough?" he taunted, upping the stakes. "Maybe you'd rather not risk your neck…"

He smirked maliciously and raised his chin even higher, emboldened by the sneering laughs of the Slytherins who surrounded him.

"Want to leave it to the Dementors, do you? But if it was me, I'd want revenge. I'd hunt him down myself."

"Leave him alone, Malfoy," snarled Neville. The Club rearranged to face the confrontation, looking balefully at the Slytherins even if Sky kept his mouth firmly shut and his attention apparently on the floor.

"Hiding behind a near-Squib, Potter? Just how pathetic can you be?" mocked Malfoy.

"You're the one who's pathetic!" spat Parvati, her dark eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Shut it, Parvati!" screeched Parkinson from beside Malfoy. "I can't believe you would say that, it's true what they say, hang around with riff-raffs and you'll turn out as worthless as them!"

"You take that back!" shrieked Padma even as other of the Club muttered angrily against the Slytherins, who in turn serrated their ranks around Malfoy.

Emboldened by this, the blond recklessly raised his voice even louder: "What does it feel like, Potter? Knowing that your own Godfather spent the last ten years in a dreary cell in Azkaban?"

"Right next to your aunt, Malfoy!" spat Leia, furious at the blond's daring.

There were gasps all around and the crowd of students pressed closer, avidly watching the confrontation.

Malfoy paled horribly, then his cheeks pinked in embarrassment. "No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood," he spat.

Leia stared incredulously as a cacophony of outraged shouts exploded around her. Several wands appeared seemingly out of nowhere, pointed furiously at the young Slytherin. Shrieks of "How dare you!" and "You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!" roared from all her friends, but not only. Several other Gryffindors looked ready to assault the stupid boy. Older students just rising from the Hufflepuff table gasped with indignation and started berating him as they came closer.

But it was McGonagall's thundering voice that quieted the hall:

"Malfoy!" she bellowed. "Detention! And twenty points from Slytherin! How dare you — despicable behaviour…" she marched straight towards him, the students parting hastily in front of her fury. She looked beyond livid.

Perhaps realizing that his prized pupil was in real danger this time, Snape sailed smoothly in the confrontation and tried to shoo Malfoy away: "I shall deal with this, Minerva, after all, Mr. Malfoy belongs to my House…"

"You better do, Severus Snape! You better! Because if you don't, so help me, I will have that boy shovel Hippogriff dung until the year is over! I reckon it'd do him some good!"

Snape clutched Malfoy's shoulder firmly and did his best to steer him away quickly. But he found his path firmly blocked by an austere looking Professor Sinistra: "No, I don't think so," she said with a quiet monotone that nevertheless managed to be very intense. "This was a rather public offence. I believe the appropriate punishment should also be public."

Her eyes bore into Snape as he spluttered in outrage. "Need I remind you, Professor, that you no longer have any say in matters of Slytherin discipline?" Now the Potions Master gaped at her, blood draining from his face and fury filling his eyes. "Need I remind you that it is, in fact, my opinion the only one that has weight in this instance? And my opinion is, that shovelling Hippogriff dung will, indeed, do a lot of good to Mr. Malfoy..."

The blond Slytherin squeaked in horrified protest but he was ignored, as Snape clasped his shoulder in a strangling grip and whispers, jeers and agitated comments started up all around them.

The Club broke into heated commentaries too, mostly on the tune of how insufferable Malfoy was, and how well deserved the detention.

Neville, with an uncharacteristically forbidding scowl, rounded on Leia: "Don't listen to him!" he stated with more authority than she'd ever dreamed of hearing from the pudgy boy. "Blood matters none at all!"

"And even if it did, it wouldn't change the fact that you're more brilliant and powerful than that stinking, good-for-nothing son of a Death Eater could ever hope to be," said Hannah, her face going red.

"She's right!" shouted Susan forcefully, swiftly echoed by many of their friends.

"You're worth twelve of Malfoy, Hermione!" concluded Neville decisively.

Cheers went up all around, from students of all ages and Houses – even, guardedly, from a few younger Slytherins, who seemed anxious not to be grouped with Malfoy's pals, now.

Leia smiled a bit uncertainly, still unable to believe the blond had been so stupid and moved but a little stunned at the show of support.

---

November had started with a bang, but it then continued in a somehow settled way.

The teachers were tense and edgy and they kept a close eye on Sky, which, combined with their friends' caring but a bit oppressive fretting, made it difficult for the two time travellers to get away by themselves for more than a few minutes here and there.

That and the added stress of the unfortunately inevitable quantity of craning necks and whispering that followed 'Harry Potter' constantly, subjecting him to many pitying looks, was taking a toll on Sky's nerves. In response, the boy did what Hermione had always done in times of stress and threw himself into research.

"We've let ourselves be derailed from what truly matters by everything that has been going on," he pointed out to Leia. "It's time we go back to focusing on Voldemort and his Horcruxes!"

Leia had agreed, feeling guilty when she realized how little progress they'd made on the 'stopping Voldemort' front; however, partly because he/she'd never been as good as her best friend with research, partly because she didn't have Sky's excuse of being depressed over Black to skirt hanging out with their friends, she found it hard to spend time on the books.

Sky reassured her that it didn't matter: "It's actually better this way. We can't risk making the opposite mistake – concentrating only on research and letting things go out of control… Splitting the tasks is only sensible. Plus, you can keep them all distracted and away from me, which would be a blessing!"

Leia had smiled forcedly. She could relate to Sky's exasperation: she remembered all too well how frustrating it was to being so closely watched and fussed over.

"At least you don't have to deal with Percy tailing you everywhere like an extremely pompous guard dog!" she joked bravely, making Sky laugh.

What she didn't admit to her best friend was that it was strange and a little hurtful, seeing everybody concerned on what was, essentially, Hermione's behalf, when it was his, Harry's, Godfather the matter…

It brought home like nothing else had yet, that meeting Sirius was going to be every bit as awful for him, as meeting the Grangers must have been for Hermione. After all, his Godfather would have no reason to pay Leia any attention… the only adult who'd ever truly cared about him the most, placed him above all others, whose advice he could ask without feeling stupid… but not this time… not this time. It was going to be harder than facing Ron…

She/he wasn't sure how she could take it. Hermione had been braver than she'd realized, around her parents!

---

'Settled life' was a relative terms at the best of times, when it came to Hogwarts.

For instance, Leia's days now included a rather eccentric addition in the form of the Bloody Baron, strange character that he was.

As she had promised, Leia sought him out, half dreading half curious, very soon after Halloween.

Unfortunately, she found him in a bad moment – he snarled at her with a ghastly face so contorted in rage and grief that she instantly decided discretion was the better part of valour and hightailed it out of the tower he was in with celerity.

His howling haunted her for several corridors and she resolved to go back to avoid him like everybody else in the school did: that civil conversation on Halloween must have been a fluke.

Some time later however, he was the one to come seeking her and of course, it was when she least expected it.

She was late for McGonagall's class, having overslept and then been unlucky enough to take a set of stairs that should have brought her to the second floor, but decided that the sixth was better today. The Baron showed up abruptly, almost giving her a heart attack as she literally ran into him – or rather, through him.

The only thing comparable to walking through a ghost was, in Leia's opinion, a sudden icy shower: she was understandably out of it, then, as the translucent form covered in silvery blood talked to her in a chastising tone.

"In ernest ik asxe, whence thou doost ay flee, Mayd Granger? An ynorissed mayden ylyk thee!"

He tut-tutted disapprovingly.

Leia worked through the confusing sentence, a bewildered frown on her face. I ask… flee… maiden like thee…

"Are you… scolding me because I run in the corridors?" she asked eventually in total disbelief.

"Yis, Mayd Granger. Hit is a wone which aperteneth not thy worthynesse and ik moot amonest thee!"

She just stared at him, mouth hanging open. Worthiness, right… and he must 'admonish' me?

He couldn't be serious!

"Ynogh of swich," he went on, elegantly shrugging. "Comest now! Let us walk yfere. Ik ycleped thee in penaunce. Ik wolde not fare so in contrast to bachilrie, when thou seched me over ik am wont to be yhid. Ik was wroth and thou woost, wrecchednesse makes men wraw. When ik aslaked, ik was aldermost repentant."

Leia scrambled to make sense of the unfamiliar words and odd sentence structure and when she managed to figure out that His Bloodiness was apologizing to her, she was floored.

It took her all her wits just to stammer out: "Oh! Ah! Okay, I mean, of course! Ah… a-apology accepted, Baron…"

Then, unable to stifle her curiosity, she blurted out: "Why were you angry, though? I thought perhaps I was bothering you? That you wouldn't want to talk to me anymore…"

The ghost looked dismayed: "Nay, fair Mayden. That wlatsom ik moot wyte - to stelen my fetters, he attempted!" He jingled his ghostly chains threateningly and it was eerily how they made no sound. "Als cleere he wolded to tobreste hem as tormentrie for me…"

The tall spectre was getting angry again and Leia cast about for a way to bring the conversation back to safer grounds, but he visibly calmed and to her shock, actually explained: "For longer yeer than thou kanst, ik born these fettres." He dangled them again. "They mark me as yshryve: whennes I was most apaye at his yvel actions."

Suddenly he looked very pleased with himself: "My wreche was grisly and he was ypunysshed afore my wrath was appeased!"

Leia was so busy, first mentally translating what he was saying and then wondering why would the Baron willingly wear chains for long centuries and what exactly they might represent to be so important to him, that she barely noticed they'd reached the door of McGonagall's class.

The ghost stopped her gently: "Alday ik gye my lyf ydelly and a feere ylyk thee is a yifte ik am looth to lese. If thou assente, ik wae levere yelde thee with wityng and tales, if swich a wynnyng is digne in thyn yen."

Leia grasped 'my life is idle', 'if you consent', 'tales' and 'winning in your eyes' and put together the proposition. She smiled. What an utterly Slytherin approach, she thought.

She curtseyed to the elegant spectre and told him kindly: "It will be my pleasure, Baron."

He offered her a creepy but pleased smile: "Ik graunt thee mercy."

She looked at him oddly, then she realized what he meant and hurriedly replied: "Oh! Oh… you're welcome!" Then she added, a little petulantly: "Must you speak like this? It's a pain to understand!"

The ghost didn't answer, but merely raised an eyebrow in a show of amusement. Leia thought she caught a glimpse of mischief in his eyes. She narrowed her own in suspicion, but he floated through a nearby wall before she could confront him.

Damn Slytherins! Insubstantial or not, they were all alike!

---

As the month progressed, the weather turned colder. Already the lake had acquired the icy grey that was its typical winter colour and frost was a common occurrence on the ground in the mornings. Leia started expecting the first snow, but the sky remained as clear as a moonstone opaline.

On one of their bi-weekly visits to Hagrid, she and Sky found the half-giant trying to repair the rabbit fur lining of his gloves. "Tis the best fer keepin' warm," he explained to them smiling, "but the woolly bears keep munchin' on it. 'Course I can't use the Potions to keep 'em away, they're needin' 'em fer weather divination classes…"

However, much like it had the First Time, this time of the year meant mostly one thing to Harry: the traditional Gryffindor versus Slytherin opening match of the Quidditch season was upon them.

She'd found out that, even if the huge amount of last-minute Quidditch practice Oliver Wood was making them do hadn't changed, training as 'one of the gals' was rather different than when he'd been 'Harry Potter': at once better and worse.

Angelina, Alicia and Katie took a lot more notice of her than they had the First Time, making a point to include her in their chatting while they were getting changed in or out of practice gear. They talked about stuff that had little to do with Quidditch, too, as well as giving her advice on how to balance her homework and spare time with Oliver's crazy taskmaster tendencies.

They were also a lot more keen on involving her in the team dynamics, in and out the field. Seekers were always, by the very nature of their role, lone players in a team sport, but the three determined Chasers talked Oliver into trying manoeuvres that featured her taking a more active role in the scoring process, rather than just leaving her to Seeking. She found this awesome, both because it was a lot of fun and for the sense of belonging she got from it. Their Captain wasn't very happy about it, though, and insisted her first and only concern should be the Snitch.

At the same time, however, there were downsides to the situation. The main one being, Angelina, Alicia and Katie did a lot more gossiping and giggling than he'd ever noticed when he was a boy!

The general free-for-all speculation about who had a crush on whom and who was dating whom this week that was part and parcel of the locker room chatting, was rather bewildering to him/her. As was the idea that, apparently, Katie thought Anthony Rickett, the new Hufflepuff Beater (whom Leia barely remembered and had never found remarkable), was 'so totally cute'.

And even if, when interrogated about who she liked, she'd blushed and stammered something unintelligible and hoped they would let it rest, Alicia turned out to be a much worse gossipmonger than he'd ever suspected and ferreted out from Lavender easily that she 'liked' Cedric, which led to a lot of giggling praise for her 'good taste' in choosing someone so 'tall and handsome' and a lot of teasing about her liking the 'strong and silent' type.

It made after-practice in the locker rooms a pain and regularly left her grumbling to herself, or to a very unsympathetic Sky.

For better or for worse anyway, the second Saturday of November finally arrived and the majority of the school found itself around the Quidditch pitch, ready to enjoy the match.

Leia discreetly counted the teachers present: a lot of them had come to watch, surprisingly. Or maybe not, as they seemed more concerned with their surroundings than the pitch and Prof. Kettleburn had taken up position in the Gryffindor tribune, much to the students' surprise – to keep an eye on Harry Potter, Leia guessed correctly, in case Black made an appearance.

Not a wrong expectation, seeing as Sirius had, indeed, come to a Quidditch match in their first life…

Praying that her godfather wouldn't be so foolish this time (after all, he should have less incentive, with 'Harry' not on the team and no storm to hide him… besides, she reasoned trying to reassure herself, he might not be arrived in the area yet…) she smiled widely at the stand the Club had taken over, proudly displaying an enormous banner over all their heads. They'd all contributed in creating and charming it. It read 'Make Us Dream, Leia!' and the letters were continuously changing in size and flashing from red to gold and back.

She could guess there was going to be a lot of bewildered mutterings about the whole Club (including some recent additions like Ernie of Hufflepuff and Su and Stephen of Ravenclaw) sitting together, regardless of House differences. Even Daphne was with them: she sported the Slytherin colours, however, and stood out like an elegant, embedded jewel in the sea of red and gold everybody else had chosen to support Leia.

She took a deep breath in the fresh air, feeling excitement stir deliciously in her belly. Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle… and they were off!

In an instant, she was plunged into the frantic pace of a Quidditch match. Oh, how she'd missed the thrill!

Lee Jordan's comment flew through the air alongside the players: "And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Adrian Pucey of Slytherin, on the team for the third year in a row…"

The Twins however didn't waste a second in hogging the Bludgers and targeting him with unerring aim. Pucey dropped the Quaffle he'd just snatched from the air, letting Alicia grab it and pass it on to her fellow Chasers in one smooth movement.

Leia heard the Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint, yell an insult to his Chaser while she soared.

"…a neat pass to Katie Bell, a good find of Oliver Wood's — back to Spinnet and — no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle…"

Lee's commentary drifted to her and she made a split-second decision. She remembered Oliver's advice ("Keep out of the way until you catch sight of the Snitch, we don't want you attacked before you have to be") but why not lend a hand to her team-mates when she got the chance? They had practiced running interference after all…

Grinning she swerved abruptly to the left, cutting the path of Flint, who was speeding up to receive the Quaffle from Pucey, with perfect timing. With a curse, the tall Slytherin was forced to pull up sharply to avoid her and the precious instants he lost were enough for Angelina to slip through the Slytherin defence, steal the Quaffle sailing through the air and speed away towards the goals like a red blur.

A loud cheer went up and Leia felt her heart soar with the joy of the game. She grinned even wider.

"…Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor takes advantage of Seeker Granger's brilliant reflexes — let's hear it for our newest star, Gryffindors, she's shaping up to become as good as her beautiful team-mate – and we sure hope she'll grow up half as cute as Angelina too…"

"JORDAN!" McGonagall's voice was utterly scandalized.

"Sorry, Professor…"

Leia burst out laughing – oh, she'd missed Lee's commentaries!

"And Johnson's really belting along up there, she's making the most of this chance – she's going to sc— no! Unfortunately stopped by the new Slytherin Keeper, Miles Bletchley — and the Slytherins take the Quaffle — that's Chaser Graham Montague of Slytherin there, and — OUCH — that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger fantastically directed by Fred or George Weasley — couldn't say which one…"

Flint stole the Quaffle again and threw it to Montague, who shot up the pitch, agilely avoiding Bludgers and players alike. The Slytherins in the stands started stamping their feet frenetically in a show of support for their momentarily unstoppable Chaser.

Leia caught sight of a golden gleam and turned to check…

Montague threw the Quaffle violently and all eyes in the crowd trailed the red blur, collectively holding their breath.

There it was… quivering in a little bubble of quiet in the midst of the total chaos of the match… the Snitch!

Wood lunged towards the right ring, both arms extended to stop the Quaffle…

With little, graceful movements Leia glided up to the small golden ball…

Wood almost lost his balance, managing to remain on his broom by the skin of his teeth, but caught Montague's throw – the Gryffindor stands exploded into cheers for their Keeper…

Leia's fingers closed gently around the Snitch, in the least frantic capture of her/his entire career…

"GRYFFINDOR WINS!" shouted Lee Jordan from his tribune. "I can't believe it, she's caught it, Granger has caught the Snitch! Gryffindor wins! 150 – 0, amazing folks, Seeker Granger catches the Snitch after only 4 minutes and 37 seconds! And… let me check… yes! It's a record! Fastest catch on Hogwarts grounds, beating the previous record by 22 seconds!"

The uproar of yelled cheering from the Club was thundering at this words and Leia flew up to them with an ear-splitting grin.

---

The following weeks were a blur of activities.

Quidditch and classes had been enough to fill her life the First Time: now, she didn't even try to comprehend how she managed, day after day, to find time for so much more.

Flitwick boasted about the Club's Charms Games to whoever would listen and was happily helping them to organize another Tournament, with more complex competitions, for just before the end of term.

As a consequence, they were all keenly practicing, once a week all together and in small groups at other times, whenever they had time.

Leia found that she was a highly sought-after 'tutor', especially now that – with the exception of Transfiguration – she had gained control over her wanded casting and her years of unfair advantage over her age-mates were finally showing. She guessed it was her experience in teaching the DA that made her so good at helping others learn.

She started sneakily bringing a book or two about Defence to the 'practice meetings', with the aim of countering Quirrelmort's awful teaching as best as she managed. Surprisingly, a lot of her friends were enthusiastic about learning curses and counter curses and eagerly followed her instructions and directions, even if it meant an added workload.

Flitwick praised her more than once and offered to guide her 'preparatory studies', which he was convinced she was doing on her own time, by helping her select appropriate books and explain whatever she might have difficulties with.

She seized the chance, naturally. The tiny Professor had been a champion dueller in his time, after all!

And that the 'sport' had remained in his heart was proved when he got everybody excited by agreeing to start teaching them how to duel after the holidays, if they promised to keep up their grades and never skirt their schoolwork.

Flitwick's tutoring was an amazing chance and she was determined to make the most of it, however it meant one more afternoon occupied, which, considering the renewed enthusiasm with which Wood, over the moon at their victory, was insisting on frequent Quidditch practices, was becoming a precious commodity.

On top of all that, Supervisor Norland had added one hour a week of what she declared 'an unparalleled opportunity to familiarize yourselves with the common and less common Potions ingredients' (only adding under her breath 'unparalleled since your Professor is an idiot who couldn't teach a baby to swallow his mother's milk').

Basically, she would set out ingredients for them to prepare in various ways and supervise them as they learned to cut and dice, chop and mesh, drain and fillet and whatnot.

And if some of the ingredients they were taught to handle were positively disgusting - cutting up Flobberworms and skinning Shrivelfigs came to mind immediately - well… Harry had too much experience with them from his previous life's detentions with Snape to be squeamish.

Besides, there were some jobs that were utterly amazing.

The day Supervisor Norland gave them a bowl of dragon scales, ranging in size from smaller than her least fingernail to almost as large as her palm, was her favourite to date.

They were asked to polish them with a soft cloth and separate them in even portions, each having three or more colours represented, which was an easy, pleasant job. The scales themselves were beautiful, shimmering in an array of colours broader than any rainbow, making even the dim and dreary dungeons shine. Every time she held one up to inspect it, sparkles of bright light arched off the dungeon walls and cascaded down the sides, like a multi-faceted waterfall.

Even Lavender, who loathed most of everything to do with 'horrible messy stuff' and often had to be dragged to the dungeons for Potion class, declared it a job she 'wouldn't mind doing again'.

---

With weekends devoted to keeping up with her regular homework and being roped into 'having fun' with her friends, Leia felt she didn't have a moment for herself anymore – and barely managed to keep abreast of Sky's progress with his research…

Her life was hectic!

About the only time of calm and quiet were Croaker's meditation lessons, which she technically shouldn't even attend.

The opening of the 'new classes' to 'selected students from the lower years' was a blatant attempt at not singling Sky out too much and was in the end reduced to asking two third years, a Slytherin and a Ravenclaw who might or might not have shown promise in the field, to join one of the two classes the man was organizing – one including almost all the newt-level students and one with a dozen or so eager fourth and fifth years.

Sky on the other hand, was informed that he would receive 'private lessons' in Professor Croaker's room one evening a week.

The two time travellers debated worriedly over the issue: they were hesitant to allow Sky to be alone with the Unspeakable, because of the warning the Twins had passed on, but how to avoid it?

Leia was all for showing up bodyguard-like at Sky's side, but the boy doubted she would be allowed to stay.

A group of their friends came up to them while they were debating the problem, cheerfully asking: "Why the long faces?"

When Dean heard the matter, he went grey: "Let me get this straight… A Professor wants you in his rooms? Alone? At night?"

He looked scared and it puzzled Leia and most of the others. Sky however seemed to get the point instantly and jumped to his feet: "I'm going to McGonagall!"

Leaving everything into their Professor's hands for once, they'd waited tensely until the Weasley Twins had bounded in to congratulate Sky on having managed to "…make the new guy and our esteemed Headmaster yell at each other. Again, we might add."

They finally breathed a sigh of relief when the stern woman confirmed that Croaker would not be allowed to give private lessons, to him or anyone else, and instead, Sky was to be included in the smaller of the 'official' classes.

Sky reported later that the Unspeakable had appeared unhappy and utterly bored as he started them out with simple basic visualization exercises. The green-eyed boy, on the other hand, was overjoyed that the practice seemed to be helping with his problems in Transfiguration too. Finally, he was able to actually get a somewhat recognizable result reliably! McGonagall was still puzzled by his difficulties, but was very pleased that whatever was blocking him, seemed to be disappearing at last.

Since what the Unspeakable was teaching was neither overtly complicated nor particularly hard, Sky wasted no time in relaying everything he'd learned to the Sky Club.

He commandeered an area of the Club's classroom and took over the second half of their weekly general meeting to pass the knowledge on to his friends, doing his best to recreate the atmosphere of the lesson and leading everybody in the same sequence of exercises the Unspeakable had proposed. Daphne helped out immensely by interspersing the practice with advice from her family grimoires.

There were protests – Ron, Seamus and Justin were most vocal about what a boring thing it all was – but Daphne, who must have been really traumatized by her previous experiences with the Mind Arts (she was still giving Snape a wide berth and gimlet eye) cut them to shreds with icy sarcasm. Susan and Neville, wholeheartedly agreeing with her on the necessity of the practice, piled it on with horror story upon awful anecdote upon terror-inducing tale, until nobody dared not to put in their best effort.

Leia was pleased: it would help them incalculably later on. Croaker, however, was anything but; Flitwick must have reported the Club's doings because it hadn't taken long for the man to show up, frowning and looking disapprovingly unhappy.

However, when he'd tried to point out that the Mind Arts were a dangerous field of magic and highly restricted, and was it a good idea to teach children who didn't seem gifted for it, he'd simply been regarded blandly.

There was a storm of discussions among the staff, as they debated forcing them to stop or leaving them to it. Croaker, however, was a smart man, and faced with the children's stubbornness, he'd sighed and organized a third class, despite the various protests and concerns risen by the rest of the staff.

"Better they have some supervision, if they're going to do it anyway," he'd shouted over Dumbledore's protests. "Can you imagine, letting idiotic kids experiment with Mind Arts on their own? What if they mess up! This isn't as easy to fix as accidentally transfiguring their feet into hooves or turning their skin the colour of bubotuber pus! Do you want to risk ending up with brain-dead drooling idiots?"

And so it was that all the first years - even those who weren't in the Sky Club, after word had got to their parents and they'd received strict instructions to show up and make an effort - ended up spending their Sunday afternoons comfortably arranged on big, transfigured cushions, breathing in unusual, oddly rhythmic patterns, in perfect silence, or at least as perfect as a bunch of eleven years old could manage, Croaker's hypnotic voice guiding their efforts and the reassuring presence of a Head of House supervising in a corner…

To Leia, even if she wasn't making much progress with her meditation, the lessons with the Unspeakable were an oasis of quiet in the exciting chaos of her life. Not tranquillity, though: everybody was tense around that wizard, most of all Sky and her.

Thankfully, it was just a lot of breathing with their eyes closed for now, but Leia still dreaded when they would start on the Mind Arts themselves. Still, it was an amazing opportunity and not one any of them was going to miss, no matter how ill at ease it made her and Sky.

And better Croaker than Snape, that was for sure!

---

Her victory on the Quidditch pitch remained a matter of rumour for longer than she'd expected; far longer than it had the First Time. Evidently, Harry Potter being a talented Seeker wasn't as shocking and interesting as a muggleborn nobody being so good at flying…

Hermione's parents, too, were shocked – positively, though. David's congratulation letter was bursting with pride and he hinted to a surprise for the upcoming Christmas holidays.

Which aside for setting Leia's curiosity aflame, shocked her to the core.

She'd never even considered that 'Hermione' would go home for Christmas! It was such a rooted idea to stay at the castle… but of course, Hermione would want to see her parents… and just like that, she knew that she had to have 'Harry' over for Christmas.

Determinedly, she set out to write to the Grangers and convince them, no matter the cost.

It wasn't as easy as she would have liked.

Despite the unquestionable comfort they drove from Julia and David's letters, the downside was that the Grangers knew everything about the 'Black business', this time, and predictably, they were scared. Their growing acquaintance with Lavender's family and Mrs Figg, too, contributed to paint a dreary picture of 'Harry's' situation.

They even went so far as to question the reasonability of her staying friends with him…

Preposterous, was the only thing she could think on the matter – and made sure to state in no uncertain terms that while she understood their worry, and while she loved them very much (something that was slowly starting to become somewhat true for her/him too, as well as being factual for the 'real' Hermione), they'd better drop any idea of her abandoning her best friend – now or ever – because it would be more likely for her to abandon them. She/he knew it was true, too, because that was what Hermione had done the First Time: she'd chosen him over them.

She was careful not to let Sky read that particular part of their correspondence. She didn't want her best friend hurt.

She tried to turn their attention to other matters instead: like finding out whether it would be possible to buy wards to be installed around their house. An idea she got by chatting with Su and Padma and which turned out to be, indeed, possible, though it was expensive. Leia was all for it anyway – if necessary, she was more than determined to get them to use the Potter money for it.

---

Many others aside from her family were still congratulating her on her 'record-breaking talent'.

Youngest Seeker in a century… fastest in even longer… it wasn't uncommon to hear someone jokingly ask her: "What'll be the next record you go after, Granger?"

After a while, it became irritating and she was sorely tempted to answer "Weirdest capture of the Snitch ever – I plan to swallow it." She held her tongue, though. Besides, nobody but Sky would have got the joke.

What was most disconcerting, although she couldn't have said why it troubled her so, was that her success on the pitch earned her yet another nickname: now the whole Quidditch team called her 'Ace'.

Thankfully the Sky Club stuck to 'Leia', or the girly 'Herm', but she'd heard several upperclassmen refer to her as 'Ace' as of late.

She didn't know how to feel about it, but for some reason… it made her uncomfortable.

Unfortunately, Sky wasn't there to help her sort herself out. The green-eyed boy was plunging deeper and deeper into research and since he was actually making some progress, Leia was loath to distract him. For what, anyway? Silly emotional upheavals that made no sense whatsoever? For all she knew, it might just be another aspect of The Problem… girls were supposed to be overemotional because of It, after all, right?

It made him/her feel rather alone, though, not being able to confide in anyone fully. Alone, and thrown back to the brooding mood of his fifth year… which was twice as hard as then, because she still had to keep up pretences with friends and assorted Professors, being lively and energetic and always busy, lest someone started worrying and trying to pry from her and Sky answers they weren't ready to give.

The stress was starting to get to her.

He/she found her/himself worrying that there was no longer a way to know just who he/she truly was. She tried not to think on it too much and managed to suppress her silly fears most of the time, only ending up tossing and turning in bed a few times, tortured by a concern that she knew was irrational, but precisely for this reason, couldn't be helped.

Until one early morning, being particularly sleepy, she distractedly replied to the wrong name.

It was nothing much. It wasn't that strange, could have happened to everybody. Did happen to everybody at one point or another… No-one even paid it any notice.

But she/he felt a sudden panic bloom in her stomach.

All of a sudden, every agonizing worry she/he'd ever had and ignored about his/her identity since the Switch crashed down on him/her and it felt as if she/he would never again be able to use the word 'I' and know what he/she meant.

Realizing her breath was coming in aching gasps and that she needed to compose herself, she very deliberately clamped down on her panic tightly and made her way to the bathroom, where she locked the door determinedly and moved slowly to stand in front of the mirror.

She observed herself very carefully: the brown hair, still bushy even if short, the deep brown eyes he was so familiar with, the very large front teeth that she hadn't got around to fix like Hermione had the First Time.

Then she leaned in, scrutinizing intensely into the reflection of her eyes, trying with all her might to see past their chocolate exterior to what was behind, beyond.

Who am I? she/he wondered.

She was Hermione Jean Granger, by virtue of looking like her, being accepted as her, having to live her life.

But he was Harry James Potter, too, still, he would always be; or at least so he hoped, for that was who he really was… he had to be! Though uneasiness was creeping in his/her thoughts… because who was Harry James Potter, after all?

Certainly not the public figure portrayed in the newspapers and publications. She no longer was the Boy-Who-Lived – good riddance to the silly title and all that went with it.

There was no denying, though, that she still felt burdened with the task of facing Voldemort; if for no other reason, because hell would freeze over before she forced his best friend to shoulder the task.

Neither was he the unwanted freak the Dursleys didn't know how to justify to the rest of their perfectly banal world; that part of his identity, too, he was glad to have shed.

But who is Harry James Potter, then?

Not the celebrity, not the freak; not the arrogant toerag Snape had insisted he had to be, nor the brooding teenager most had seen him as, and not even simply the Gryffindor student, good at Quidditch and not bad at Defence Against the Dark Arts, that many might have described him as.

Or am I? Do any of those depictions truly fit me? At least a little?

Who am I?

She bit her lip hard, worried.

I'm Hermione's and Ron's best friend, he/she thought firmly, but unlike in his previous life, the thought now was hollow, because the tight trio that had defined him so much was no more.

She was Leia… but again, who was Leia? An original character she was building, carefully constructing, shaping for the purpose of adapting to the Switch and working towards her/his goals.

She liked Leia… she liked being Leia… a great deal, to be honest.

But how 'real' is Leia?

She was 'Herm' too, and that was a novel experience. She'd never had his name shortened by friends before (unless one wanted to count the Twins' 'Harrikins', but that was different). Not much point with 'Harry', she/he supposed.

It felt strange to hear Lavender and Parvati use the shortened form of her name, with the way its only vowel was naturally lengthened until it almost sounded like a different name entirely: someone else, someone new that he was, rather unwillingly, learning to act as… Parvati was trying to coerce her into using make-up, for pity's sake!

And now she was 'Ace' too… but was it right? Hermione wasn't – wouldn't want to be – a Quidditch star, so did he have the right to be Ace? And the nickname had been granted to her because she was apparently a 'prodigy' – but she wasn't, was she? Was it cheating?

Or is it just another mask I have to wear, another role to play? Another character to interpret…

Her emotions grew more and more turbulent as her upset grew. She wished she could talk this all over with someone, someone she could trust, someone who could help, because the more she tried to make sense of the mess she was in, the more she got confused.

Who is the real me? Who am I when it comes right down to it?

That was the question, the question she had no answer for.

Who am I?

Jumbled doubts overlapping each other plied her, chased her, like hungry wolves hot on her heels, and she had no answers.

Who was she?

The build up grew like a suffocating pressure, until with a sharp cry her turmoil spilled over in a burst of accidental magic. The mirror she was looking for answers into shattered explosively and she just about had the presence of mind to shield her eyes with her arm, before her loss of control resulted in a serious injury.

She found herself on her knees, panting, in the middle of a rather wracked bathroom, her emotions all over the place. She was surprised at the amount of damage her magic had wrought.

Someone was pounding frantically at the door, frightened voices demanding to know if she was alright.

All around her, scattered pieces of the mirror blinked at her in the flickering light, each returning a miniature, fragmented version of her image.

And for a wild moment, he thought he saw many different people looking back at him, one from each shard, all mockingly echoing the damn question.

Who are you?

---

Sky was caught by surprise when he awoke one morning to a blanket of candid snow over the Hogwarts grounds and a buzz of Christmas in the air.

The lake was like a silvery mirror from up in the Tower, the wind was sharp and slipped under their robes like a knife, and everybody was happily discussing their plans for the holidays.

Term was drawing to a close and he'd barely noticed!

Professor Flitwick was roping the Club into charming the baubles for the Trees in the Great Hall so that they would play short Christmas tunes and they were having great fun with it. The cheerful Professor had promised that they could bring one home to their families, so everybody was putting a special effort in.

Following an illuminating conversation with Justin and Kevin, who'd been positively shocked at the sight of real fairies being used as Christmas lights, Hannah was getting the 'magical raised' of the Club to organize a party so that the 'muggle raised' could experience a wizarding Christmas in all its glory before going home.

Despite being curious and excited at the idea, Sky'd overheard the Twins volunteer to help and had spared a relieved thought about not being the Prefect that would have to rein them in. Especially since as of late, the two red-heads were going through a phase of hyper activism that translated in an onslaught of pranks!

Nobody was safe: everyone had found their hair flashing weird colours at the very least – though the pranks on the Slytherins tended to be way more creative – and so far, Snape seemed to be the only Professor who hadn't been targeted – or maybe he was the only one who hadn't been caught.

The two menaces had even managed to spell the sets of armours to shout 'Make way for His Headship!' whenever Dumbledore passed by them…

And Sky and Leia's breath had caught, leaving them half-way through horrified terror and hysterical laughter, when they'd seen the Twins bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban.

Bouncing off Voldemort, that is.

Merlin protect us all…

---

The Christmas cheer did very little, unfortunately, to fend off the biting cold. The first years had a hard time navigating the icy corridors; they had to bundle up in cloaks and wool scarves simply to go to class, or else hound an older student or two to get them to cast some warming charms. Parvati and Padma, in particular, were forever complaining and spent quite some time trying to find a version of the charm that wasn't too difficult for their current level.

Sky wondered what it said about him that he found the bitter wind howling among the stone walls and rattling the windows of the castle comforting more than anything.

He supposed it was the knowledge that once back in the Gryffindor common room there would be a roaring fire welcoming him – as opposed to a lonely, drafty tent, with too little to eat and too much to worry about.

That didn't mean he enjoyed classes in the dungeons, however, where even keeping as close as possible to their hot cauldrons didn't help staving off the freezing cold and they welcomed the use of acids among the ingredients of the day, because it meant an excuse to keep the dragon hide gloves on.

Though whenever Seamus and Ron started bemoaning the necessity of 'freezing our arses off in the greasy bat's dungeon', her/his scholarly soul reared its head and he bitingly reminded them that they were lucky to have Potions classes at all, considering the rocky start of year.

Thankfully, Supervisor Norland and Professor Snape seemed to have reached a begrudging truce of sorts, at last. Norland coughed warningly or outright snarled every time Snape started insulting or belittling them – which meant Snape kept to a silent scowl amazingly often – but she didn't interfere in the actual lesson, or in Snape's handling of the course material, except for her initiative about teaching them to handle all sorts of ingredients, which Sky found brilliant.

---

In contrast to Leia, who was being quite the social butterfly, Sky kept to more quiet pursuits and dedicated most of his time to research.

Luckily Sirius' escape gave him the perfect excuse to withdraw into himself a little. The sombre expressions on the teachers' faces and the blatant way in which they found excuses to walk along corridors with him, making the idea of a dangerous Dark Wizard out for his blood much more concrete and close, was generally agreed to be reason enough to want to study beyond the standard curriculum.

In truth, however, it had been Malfoy's ill-conceived insult, thrown so casually at Leia at the beginning of November, that had convinced him it was time to hit the books. The blond Slytherin's attitude had thrown him/her right back to the climate of the war and reminded her/him of what had to be their priority.

He had therefore made an effort to organize the huge amount of research they absolutely had to do. He couldn't believe he'd let it be so long!

He had encouraged Leia to leave the book-leafing to him, however. It was important that they keep up the good work with the Club, lest they loose what they'd been so lucky as to build, and Leia was better suited to it than him.

Besides, he wasn't a naïve eleven-years-old any longer and he knew, now, not to hope for much dedication to studies during the Quidditch season. Especially if the upcoming match was against Slytherin!

He didn't mind the work, anyway. Spending time in the Hogwarts Library was a luxury he/she had sorely missed while on the run.

On the Horcrux front, he made little progress, but that was not really unexpected. He suspected the books he needed were quite beyond the reach of a first year and he couldn't very well go and ask Dumbledore for his copy of Secrets of the Darkest Arts, could he?

More frustrating was the fact that there was apparently nothing to be found on the Switch, or even anything similar, be it body-switches, gender-bending mishaps or simply botched up Rituals.

He did, however, find out some promising threads about the condition of their magic and promptly shared his findings with his best friend.

"Here, let me show you what I've found in those books Flitwick let me borrow at the beginning of the year!" he told Leia excitedly. "It confirms what he was hinting at in that first lesson – that magic is related uniquely to the body and soul of whoever uses it…"

He leafed quickly through the pages, all the while talking about his own suspicions of magic perhaps not having a genetical basis, but on the other hand, the documented existence of 'family gifts' or 'family affinities' seemingly supporting just such a basis…

"There are quite a lot of authors who claim magic has everything to do with blood – citing all sorts of evidence – but then again, it might just be that the supporters of Pureblood Supremacy twist the interpretation of factual results to fit their view of the world."

"Wouldn't put it past them," mumbled Leia, scowling.

"But we know that there are forms of magic, especially Old Magic, that rely heavily on blood connections and the like," pointed out Sky.

Leia nodded, possibly thinking of Lily Potter's sacrifice, but then added: "Dumbledore, though, seemed to think it had more to do with – err… with love," she blushed. "An emotional connection. Not just blood in the physical sense."

Sky nodded. "Alright. That doesn't explain why Voldemort taking your blood was so important… but alright. However, we can't discount what we ourselves have observed since the Switch."

Leia frowned: "What do you mean, exactly?"

"Well, like the fact that my magic – or maybe I should say your magic, but I'm not sure which is it – seems to be… more. A lot more. But at the same time, it just doesn't do what it's supposed to! It goes off on its own and, and it explodes my transfigurations! Or, or it flings something I'm trying to levitate with such force it embeds in the ceiling! Unless, of course, what I'm trying to do is so complex or requires so much power that I shouldn't be able to do it at all…"

Leia grinned: "It's probably bored. You want it to do everything so meticulously… it's frustrated, that's all!"

Sky glared, annoyed: "Leia, we're not talking about a pet!"

But the girl went on disregarding her comment: "Whereas when you try something difficult, well, it's a challenge. Interesting. Motivating! Of course, it's more inclined to do it!"

Sky rolled his eyes, muttering about the silliness of anthropomorphizing the unknown.

"So is this why everything, even the smallest things, require twice the effort they used to?" asked Leia. "I have to concentrate utterly and focus all of my energy in making sure the result isn't botched up by some stray thought… it's because the magic I have now shares your thorough, meticulous nature and wants everything triple checked before doing it?"

"It's not sent- oh, whatever..." Sky rolled his eyes at his grinning friend. "I don't know why you're complaining, anyway. Yes, yes, you have far less magic than you were used to – you told me it was unsettling you badly – but it is always at your fingertips and it can do anything at all and you don't have to worry about accidentally flooding the greenhouses if you try to water some plants…!"

"It's hard! And tiring! And kind of boring, too. Anyway, we're getting rather off topic, aren't we?"

"No, not at all," Sky shook his head. "On the contrary, I think this is precisely the core of the matter. Here…"

He lifted and moved books and parchments, switching their places randomly, trying to find where he'd put what he was looking for.

"Ah-ha! Here it is. This is a volume on the basics of spell creation… I'd glanced through it for an Arithmancy project in sixth year but I didn't have the time to properly study the introductory chapters then. Now I have. Listen!"

He read to his attentive friend: "Magic is Wild, Lively, Unruly. It doth not care for strict forms. Pre-constructed thought doth not benefit new spellwork. Flimsiness can be deflected by giving the incantation a sturdier base, for which aim Numerology means simplicity. Beware however of the potential loss of Grammar. Complexity doth not translate into efficacy."

"What does it mean, exactly?" asked Leia, trying to concentrate.

"That the spells we use today are cut down to their very basic forms. Apparently some centuries back spells were much longer and much more complicated than they are now – here, look – Brief History of Spellcasting in the Anglosaxon Area says that a common levitation charm was some eleven words long originally!"

"Eleven…? But why? I don't understand!"

"Well, because people thought they should make sure to add in everything that might come into play, making the spell very detailed and comprehensive so nothing could go wrong…"

"Really?" Leia asked with surprise.

Sky nodded: "While today, we have spells that are more general and therefore more flexible. So the same incantation works to levitate a feather and a club."

They shared a smile. Leia looked intrigued and Sky felt very much the same. They hadn't really studied spell history that much: this was all new to him too.

"But the spells we use are still pretty standardized," objected Leia after a while. "We always get the same results. Ok, we can use them on a variety of targets… but feather and club, in the end, get levitated in exactly the same way. Why is that, then?"

"Because magic isn't just foolish wand-waving, after all," giggled Sky. "According to what Professor Flitwick told us, it needs another component, one that is linked to – well, personality, if I get this right," he waved haphazardly over the stack of books he'd piled to the side.

"Emotional component," Leia nodded, finally understanding. "Is that what's giving us troubles, then?"

Sky hesitated: "Yes and no. That is, yes, emotions are a huge part of spellcasting, and if this," he held up a volume titled Moody Spells for Moody People, "is right, then it matters more for some people than for others."

"Like me, the old me I mean, as opposed to the old you," nodded Leia. "That's why you're having so much trouble controlling the magic you have now... while I just need to be more patient and precise."

"But that's just it! It shouldn't work like that, not according to all the books. And anyway, there's more to it than that. Imagination and belief are very important in spell work, more than I ever thought, I'm starting to suspect." He frowned. "If I got this right, the spells we do, work the way they do because we believe that they will."

"Magic is will," nodded Leia sagely.

"Exactly. And that belief is imprinted into our minds, mainly, here at school, where the teachers show us how this or that spell works. We automatically believe that it will work that way because we are told and taught that it does. That's why we have standardized spells… Hence the importance of magical schools. I don't even know why I didn't realize it, the Compendium of Magical Education in Europe had charts about the effect magical schools had on our population and the skills wizardfolk generally possess, I just never paid too much attention to the data…"

Leia chuckled: "I could have told you that. 'The first rule to do something impossible is not to know that it is impossible'!"

Sky regarded her. That sounded like a quote. "You would know," he muttered.

Leia shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, this really explains a lot. Including why I can finally get my Charms to work, now that I've come to terms with the fact that I need to pay a lot more attention to every little detail than I ever did… but what about Transfiguration?"

"I told you, it shouldn't work like that! By all accounts, you should have retained your, let's say more blunt, way to cast after the Switch! Instead, you have to cope with my more nuanced style, which is rather unsuited to your personality."

"As unsuited as the need to be more stubborn than the universe is to you," smirked Leia.

Sky glowered. Leia's advice on how to manage Transfiguration just wasn't his cup of tea!

"Clearly," he said stiffly, "there is also a… a blood component, to magic," he winced, knowing that Leia wouldn't take kindly to the suggestion.

"I don't believe it," she said at once.

Sky sighed wearily, not at all surprised. Unfortunately, there just wasn't another explanation that he could see…

The end line was, that he needed to expand his research – or else have a brilliant epiphany on how to deal with their wonky magic, which wasn't likely to happen, unfortunately. At least they were learning to cope properly…

What he found true satisfaction in was the amazing amount of reference material on the Founders of Hogwarts. There were books upon books on them, their history, their accomplishments, their breakthroughs, even just anecdotes on their personalities… there were work journals, philosophy texts, volumes on the theory of magic and compilations of spells and potions inspired by their works… but also disquisitions on their 'true' history and opinions, novels inspired by their lives, even books that were almost hagiographies. It was going to take him months to get to the bottom of it!

And hopefully it was the same material Tom Riddle had worked from, so they would be able to come to the same conclusions…

And finally, there was a pet-project of his – one he kept carefully on the side and did not share with Leia: human anatomy. Specifically, the evolution of such during puberty.

After having a good laugh (out of earshot, of course) about Harry's 'feminine misfortune', Sky had been hit by the realization that puberty occurred to boys too, and unfortunately, he/she didn't know much about the male version of it.

He made a mental note to procure opportune books over the Christmas holidays (a browse of the Hogwarts library proved that there were no adequate source material for a research on this topic), possibly with detailed explanations and diagrams and the like. Whatever the body she was currently in was going to go through, she wanted to know and be ready for.

Boys matured later than girls, thankfully, so he should have a little time to prepare, but still, a few good anatomy manuals were a priority!

---

When, shortly before the end of term, he received an invitation from her parents… that is, the Grangers… to come over for Christmas, he was absolutely overjoyed.

He knew it must have been Leia's doing – she/he had probably begged and pleaded a good deal to convince them, especially since reading through the lines in their letters it was easy to see their worry about the whole Black situation – and he didn't know how he could ever express his joy and gratitude to his best friend.

A chance to spend the festivities with her parents… he was hard pressed to think of a better present.

Of course, things just couldn't go smoothly.

As soon as the list of people wishing to stay at Hogwarts had returned to McGonagall without his name on it, Sky found himself summoned to the Headmaster's office.

He was surprised to realize that he was a bit wary of facing the aged wizard. No matter the trust and admiration she/he felt for him, their choice to keep Dumbledore out of the loop of their current situation put the Headmaster, to their regret, on the list of 'potentially dangerous opponent if we don't play it right'.

Fortunately, McGonagall had been surprised but flattered when he'd asked her to be present. It might not help much concretely, but Sky felt better for her supporting presence.

Dumbledore smiled at him genially, offering a lemon drop. Sky smiled back, thinking of the running joke the tart sweets represented for all who knew and loved the aged wizard, but didn't relax.

"Harry, my dear boy," started off the elderly wizard kindly. "I called you here because it seems you're planning to go back home for Christmas? As you can imagine, this is cause for some concern…"

Sky frowned, not liking where this was going. Not – one – bit.

"With all due respect, Headmaster, sir," he said nervously. "No, I do not see how it would be anyone's concern. Besides I'm not going…" he hesitated, but spit it out "…home. I have been invited to spend the holidays at Leia's."

Dumbledore tensed, looking worried: "Ah, I am afraid that is out of the question, my dear boy. But I assure you, you will enjoy Christmas at Hogwarts immensely! Why, this year will be even…"

"Excuse me?" interrupted Sky forcefully. He couldn't believe what he'd just heard.

"Pardon me?" replied Dumbledore with polite puzzlement. He clearly wasn't used to be interrupted.

"I must have misheard," said Sky, sitting straighter and tensing further. "I could swear you just told me that I am to stay at school over Christmas, against my wishes. But surely you can't have?"

"My dear boy…" started Dumbledore placatingly.

"After all," went on Sky blithely, "to confine me to your school, outside of term, against my will, would be kidnapping."

He stared at the Headmaster pointedly.

"Mr Potter!" exclaimed McGonagall from behind him. "That is an absurd accusation!"

"Yes, it is," agreed Sky. Admittedly, it was also a bit farfetched, but he/she wasn't going to pull any punches when Christmas with her parents and Harry was at stake!

"We certainly have no intention of kidnapping anyone," said Dumbledore placatingly. His eyebrows had risen in utter shock and he was peering at Sky worriedly over his half-moon spectacles. "We are merely trying to ensure your well-being over term break…"

"I mean no disrespect, Headmaster, but I fail to see how that would be your concern", he said bluntly. "You are only responsible for me during term. You have no say over what I do over the holidays, only my guardians do, and the Dursleys have already given permission for me to spend Christmas with the Grangers."

Dumbledore frowned: "I am sorry to give you and Miss Granger a disappointment, I know you are quite close…"

"You are in no position to disappoint us on this matter, sir," said Sky adamantly.

"I'm afraid I am, Mr Potter. As your guardians are Muggles, you see-"

"Something which didn't seem to matter in the least when I was left with them," pointed out Sky – and thoughts of Harry's treatment at the hands of those three made his tone bitingly bitter. "It's not like anyone ever cared about their suitability, after all."

"What do you mean, Mr Potter?" asked McGonagall. Sky was pleased to hear a dangerous note to her tone.

Dumbledore looked older and wearier than he/she'd ever seen him in either life. "That is not the point at the moment. The school has guardianship over any muggle raised student, which means…"

"…that my Head of House acts in loco parenti during term, yes, I know," finished Sky, but he wasn't about to budge.

Besides, this was a sore point for her. She'd found out the matter of Heads of Houses having magical guardianships over their muggleborn students after she was petrified in second year and nobody so much as informed her parents. They had been out of their mind with worry at not hearing from her for so long and she'd been furious, more so when the books she'd hunted down had confirmed that it was McGonagall's right to keep them in the dark. She had carefully determined the limits of such power, however, and now she was secure in her/his rights.

"Despite this, Headmaster, neither you nor Professor McGonagall have any authority to keep me at school longer than that. I checked," he added sharply when it seemed Dumbledore would try and negate what he was saying, "and the Hogwarts Chart is quite clear on the matter. Unless we're back to the kidnapping issue?" he asked, perhaps a little snidely.

Dumbledore regarded him gravely: "Alas, Harry, nobody wishes you harm. We are not your enemies."

Sky deflated. The Headmaster was right. They weren't the enemy… but then why would they want to keep him from having a good Christmas?

"We are merely thinking of your safety… and of that of others. With Sirius Black on the loose…" Dumbledore sighed deeply.

Sky blinked. Oh, that was it! Of course, he should have realized.

For a moment, he hesitated. He could understand his Headmaster's worry: they didn't know Sirius was innocent after all.

But then Dumbledore made a mistake: "I'm sure you don't want to put two innocent Muggles at risk, do you? Or put your friend Miss Granger in a difficult position? After all, if you insist on going to the Grangers, I'm afraid we will have to explain the whole truth to them."

He scowled ferociously: "The Doctors Granger know all about Black already!"

"They know?" Dumbledore seemed genuinely flabbergasted.

"Of course!" spat Sky, quite offended. "Just because they're Muggles doesn't mean they don't read the Prophet! And aside for that, Leia and I told them everything. We always do."

"What?" The old Headmaster looked as if the idea was too alien for him to even comprehend. "You… you told them…"

"Yes," confirmed Sky strongly and his/her heart constricted a little. She/he recalled Harry's pained indignation over Dumbledore's secret-keeping tendencies, in their first life. It seemed her best friend had understood their mentor better than her…

"It was only fair, you understand, what with their daughter being a potential target for a mass-murderer," he blabbed, barely realizing he was being defensive. "Lavender's Grandmother has been helping them get in touch with some good ward-raisers, so they'll be protected…"

"What do you mean, a potential target?" protested McGonagall. "Miss Granger is not-"

"She's Muggleborn, isn't she?" asked Sky cuttingly. "You heard Malfoy at the beginning of November – and we all know he's not the only one… if Black believes in the same idiocy…"

Dumbledore sighed deeply. "I see. I am sorry you were exposed to such unjustified vitriol so soon. Prejudice is a terrible thing… But surely this means you see my point? It will be for the best if you remain safely in Hogwarts."

"I don't see why!" protested Sky. "After all, doesn't Black believe me to be in Hogwarts? The Prophet reported that the Azkaban guards heard him repeat 'He's at Hogwarts… He's at Hogwarts'. Therefore it makes sense for me to leave the school, especially in a period when the security will be lax due to the festivities."

"Ah, but he would probably take that into account…" tried Dumbledore.

"I doubt it. A man on the run would have no way to keep track of the time, especially after years in prison." He said that with the utmost certainty: she'd experienced this on her own skin during her time as a fugitive, companion to the 'Undesirable N° 1'. She and Harry had been so surprised that it was Christmas when they'd arrived in Godric's Hollow… "And anyway, he would likely assume that I am with my relatives. Therefore the Granger residence is the perfect hiding place," he concluded stubbornly.

Dumbledore gazed at him with a disappointed frown. Sky stared back, a steely glint in his emerald eyes.

"As Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, it is my duty to ensure your safety…" tried Dumbledore.

"Shoudn't that be Madam Bones' duty, sir? As Head of the DMLE? She's in a better position to protect me, after all. In fact, if you're so concerned about my safety, I think you should ask her for a couple of Aurors to be deployed to the task. I know she mentioned to Susan in a letter that it would be possible to arrange it…"

Dumbledore sighed, and capitulated, though he looked anything but happy.

Sky left the office as quickly as politeness would allow, joy warring with worry in her heart and positively reeling at his own daring.

Never would he/she have imagined going against Albus Dumbledore's wishes so blatantly…

Perhaps it was just another sign that she/he was no longer a child, appearances notwhitstanding.

He didn't tell Leia about his confrontation with the Headmaster; he wasn't sure how she would take it. Harry was very much Dumbledore's man, but Sky hoped that on this matter, at least, he would have sided with her/him regardless.

---

Christmas morning found Sky, Leia, Julia and David all gathered on the carpet in their sitting room, passing around presents under the Christmas tree where two magical trinkets, charmed by none other than the young witch and wizard currently tearing into the brightly coloured packages, played their merry tunes at intervals.

There was quiet laughter and a lot of heartfelt thanks and the spicy smell of freshly baked German Lebkuchen in the air and to Sky, it was a bittersweet atmosphere, that he nonetheless wouldn't have traded for anything.

He felt tears of joy and mingled grief pool in his eyes when he saw Leia's gift: a copy of the original Tales of Beetle the Bard. It would seem just a chance for a muggle raised child to read the stories his magical peers had grown up with, to everybody else, but the two of them knew: to them, it was so much more.

Leia's elation at receiving tickets for an actual Quidditch match was everything David could have hoped from his little surprise – and the stars in his eyes were rivalling his daughter's as they bounced excitedly in their places, daydreaming of the spectacle awaiting them.

Julia was gushing over the Toothflossing Stringmints Sky had bought for her remembering how much she'd liked them the First Time, when the day took a turn for the worst.

An unexpected ring of their doorbell shattered the cosy, cheerful atmosphere, leaving them looking at each other, puzzled and worried. Nobody comes calling so early on Christmas morning with good news…

---

Sky and Leia remained where they were while the Grangers went to see to the door, straining to hear what was going on.

Julia and David soon returned looking tense and wary and with two strangers in tow.

Strangers who wore non-descript grey robes, moved unobtrusively and did not bother hiding the wands on their forearms.

Sky and Leia exchanged a tense glance. Unspeakables, they were sure of it!

"There you are, Mr. Potter!" exclaimed the shorter of the two, with a cheer who felt so false it made Sky grit his teeth in reaction. "Allow me to wish you a Merry Christmas!"

Panic starting to stir in his belly, Sky mumbled a response, his eyes darting worriedly from one unremarkable man to the other. Why are they here? Has our situation come out at last? But how...?

"We are terribly sorry to interrupt your celebrations, but I'm afraid it couldn't be helped. We are here on behalf of the Ministry of Magic – Department of Misteries, to be precise. I daresay you have heard of us?" he asked with a fake chuckle.

Sky nodded dumbly, his suspicions confirmed. What could they possibly want from me? Today of all days?

Julia, displaying good manners although in a chilling tone, asked politely: "What can we do for you, then?"

"Surely whatever it is could have waited one day?" added David in a considerably unfriendly tone.

"Alas, I'm afraid not! Arranging this was not easy after all."

Arranging what? wondered Sky, more and more worried.

"If you could follow us, Mr. Potter?" said the second Unspeakable. He was barely pretending to be polite and his droned tone put Sky on edge instantly.

"F-follow you?" he squeaked, his concerns mounting powerfully like the tide. Where are they planning to take me?

"What do you mean, follow you?" Leia stood up belligerently. "You can't just barge in here and think we'll go meekly along with whatever you think you can do!"

The two exchanged a meaningful glance.

The falsely-cheerful one said, carefully: "Ah… yes, yes. Truthseeker mentioned your… protectiveness, Miss Granger… ah... very commendable." He chuckled again and Sky clenched his fists. "However, it is also unnecessary in this instance. Ah… let me assure you, Mr. Potter is in no danger."

Yeah, right, thought Sky, his stomach tightening.

"This is irrelevant," interjected the other Unspeakable in a sour tone. "You have no choice, Mr. Potter, so kindly cease to make things difficult."

"Now wait just a minute!" exclaimed David angrily. "That's ridiculous, what authority do you think you have…?"

Sky exchanged a helpless glance with Leia and then, falling back into the habit of her/his childhood, turned to her/his mother in a mute appeal. Julia promptly moved to his side, trying to look reassuring.

"We have the full backing of the Ministry of Magic, Muggle!" was saying the Unspeakable snottily.

"Harry is under our responsibility over the Christmas holidays and we will not, in good conscience, send him off with perfect strangers," said Julia, posing a hand on Sky's shoulder. "I'm sure you understand." Her tone, though perfectly polite, evoked images of tempered steel blades iced all over.

Sky slid closer to her, who put an arm around him protectively. Leia stepped closer on his other side, muscles rigid with tension.

The two Unspeakables looked floored, as if they hadn't even taken into consideration the possibility of opposition.

"We are from the Ministry of Magic!" protested the taller one, as if that should settle the matter. From Sky's and Leia's point of view, it was an excellent reason not to do what they wanted!

"So you say," spat David. "But we have no way of knowing, do we? You could be using magic to fake your identities. What do we know of what you're capable of?"

The nastier Unspeakable's face reddened in outrage: "You have no idea of what we can do, Muggle!"

But the other shot him a warning look. Then he stepped forth: "It does you honour, Dr. Granger, to want to protect a child in your care," he said placatingly, "but let me assure you that we are, indeed, tasked by the Ministry to escort Mr. Potter there. I'm sure we can lay your doubts to rest if we just talk this over…"

"You can't be serious!" exploded his partner. "You're going to let this mere Muggle dictate…"

"Shut up!" hissed the other, but the damage had been done. Sky and Leia were both glaring at him and the Grangers were suddenly stone-faced.

After a moment of embarrassed silence, the more diplomatic Unspeakable tried to smooth things over: "Ah… we started on the wrong foot," he said in a conciliatory tone. "We merely want Mr. Potter to accompany us to the Ministry for… ah… a bureaucratic matter," he said persuasively.

Julia raised her eyebrows sceptically: "On Christmas Day?"

"Ah… it won't take more than a couple hours," entreated the Unspeakable, "and then we will leave you to your… ah… celebration."

Her par- Julia and David exchanged a glance, silently communicating. Sky felt his/her mother's hand tighten almost painfully on his shoulder, but wouldn't dream of complaining. He was grateful for her support.

"Is someone from Harry's school going to be there?" asked Julia, not bothering to hide her distrust.

The Unspeakable's eyes widened in alarm: "Ah… no… no, it's not a school matter, after all, is it?" He attempted a nervous laughter.

Julia wasn't fazed: "How would we know? You haven't bothered to say what this is all about. Harry's only contact with your world is through school, what else could it be?"

The second Unspeakable snorted disdainfully: "Your utter ignorance does not change Mr. Potter's role in our society-"

"We are aware of his role – a role he is too young to take on by far," interjected David firmly.

The more diplomatic of the two Unspeakables stopped the other's retort with a sharp glance.

"Ah… we… would prefer not involve the Headmaster needlessly," he explained, with the light tone of someone who expected to be taken at face value.

Not happening! thought Sky.

Beside him, he felt Leia stiffen as well and knew his best friend was thinking along the same lines. Despite all his fault, Dumbledore was still their leader. They weren't going to go against him – and for the Ministry, too… as if they were worthy of any kind of trust!

Sky took a steadying breath and spoke calmly, if in a biting tone: "You expect me to follow two perfect strangers who refuse to even explain what they want with me…?"

But the second Unspeakable seemed to have had enough. "Listen, boy, we don't have time to waste on your nonsense. You will do as you're told or…"

Sky's wand was in his hand before he even realized he was drawing it. Something in the man's voice was grating on his nerves badly. Leia's wand was already trained on him. Julia and David were pale and darted their worried eyes from one couple to the other.

"There is no need for this…" said the diplomatic Unspeakable, alarmed.

"You think you can take on a trained wizard, you little brats?" snarled his partner with an ugly sneer. "You'll be in a world of trouble for using magic when you're not allowed… and on a Ministry official no less…"

"How do we even know you're who you say you are?" challenged Leia defiantly. "For all we know, you might be Death Eaters!"

"Or assassins paid by Black!" added Sky, sending a mental apology to poor Sirius.

Julia let out a strangled cry and dove for the telephone. David grabbed the poker as she speed-dialled – Sky gasped, knowing it would be no use against magic and terrified that her dad might be hurt – the diplomatic Unspeakable shouted for calm – Julia frantically yelled into the receiver: "Dahlia? Dahlia, two wizards showed up and want Harry and-"

She didn't get any further because the rude Unspeakable whipped his wand out and bellowed: "Relashio!"

She was thrown away by the force of it and the phone dropped on the carpet with a dull thunk.

David, Leia and Sky roared with rage in unison.

Before the Unspeakable could recognize what was going on, Sky's Expelliarmus, overcharged by his fear and fury, hit him square in the chest, wrenching his wand from him. His surprise lasted but an instant, because Leia had gone straight for the big guns and Stunned him where he stood. David had jumped the other one, who was deftly avoiding his enraged blows and desperately trying to calm him with placating words. The dentist wasn't listening: he was too busy yelling at him for daring to hurt his wife.

That was the scene Madam Bones and Lavender's Grandmother walked in, accompanied by three grim-looking Aurors.

The Head of DMLE took in the muggle man assaulting an Unspeakable, the shaken-looking muggle woman, the two pale children with wands drawn against another, stunned Unspeakable, and drew herself to her full height: "What in the world is going on here?"

---

It took some time to settle down in the kitchen, conjured cups of tea being passed around with Julia's biscuits.

Lavender's Grandmother sat with Julia, who looked terribly shaken. Sky had overheard her murmur with a wail in her voice: "Oh, Dahlia, how am I going to deal with all this?"

The older woman had patted her back comfortingly: "Now, now, Julia…"

Sky had torn himself from the scene, overwhelmed with guilt. She'd told her parents a great deal about Harry the First Time, but they'd never been so… involved, and certainly not so soon.

Madam Bones and her Aurors were interrogating the two Unspeakables and by the grim look on her face, she was not liking their answers.

Sky shook his head, amazed that the stern woman was here at all. Apparently the 'support group for muggle parents of Hogwarts children' his dad had mentioned was a lot more efficient than he'd been led to believe!

He joined Leia where she was listening intently to the adults' words. The girl hadn't put her wand away, despite the Aurors' entreaties. Then again, neither had Sky.

"So you thought kidnapping Mr. Potter from the house he is a guest in would be a smart way to go about things?" was asking Madam Bones rigidly.

The shorter Unspeakable's eyes widened comically as he gave them a good'ol'boy smile even more fake than his cheer. "Kidnapping! Ah… that is such a strong word! No, no… we just thought it would be best to… ah… deal with this little matter while most Ministry employees aren't at work… to… ah… spare Mr. Potter the commotion his presence might provoke…"

"I see. You wanted to… deal with this matter. This little bureaucratic matter, that you refused to explain to Mr. Potter's hosts."

"They're just Muggles!" protested the other one disdainfully.

Leia hissed furiously and everybody turned to watch her in various degrees of surprise.

"With an attitude like yours, I'm of half a mind to demand you show us your left arm!" she spat.

Sky gasped softly.

The Unspeakable jumped to his feet, his face reddening disturbingly: "How dare you! You little snot, I'll teach you to…"

"That is enough!" shouted Madam Bones, standing up as well and towering over the angry wizard with her imposing presence, despite being shorter than him. "Control yourself, or I will have you arrested for assault on a minor witch!"

The Unspeakable spluttered and choked on his own rage, but let his partner yank him down to sit.

"It is a good request," interjected a deep, previously unheard voice. "A reasonable request."

They turned to its source to see a tall and bulky Auror with a very serious expression and the air of a warrior about him.

"I will not let you insult me so!" shouted the rude Unspeakable jumping to his feet again, despite his partner's attempt at quieting him.

"The lady doth protest too much," commented the second Auror, a weedy-looking woman with a mean smile, that reminded Sky unpleasantly of Theodore Nott.

"How dare you!" cried the tall wizard rounding on her.

"We will discuss your attitude – and loyalties – back at Headquarters – at length," intervened Madam Bones sternly. "In the meanwhile…"

"Ah… Madam Bones, I really must point out… we do have the backing of our Department… it would not do to…"

"Yes, yes! Fine! I understand!" she burst out, clearly annoyed.

Then she turned to the two children: "Mr. Potter, I'm afraid it would be best to simply go and see what it is the Department of Mysteries want with you. I am more than willing to offer myself and one of my Aurors as escorts, however."

Sky felt his stomach tightening, but it was a rather better deal than he'd feared, so he nodded, trying to formulate some thanks.

"I'm coming too." The surprising statement came from her dad: David looked unflinchingly at the various wizards and witches in his kitchen. It was apparent that he would not budge.

"Ah… I am not sure…" started the diplomatic Unspeakable, only to be interrupted by an outraged snort from his partner: "Preposterous! A Muggle in the Ministry, that's…"

"Your opinion on the matter is duly noted," cut him off Madam Bones with chilling accuracy. "Doctor Granger, as you and your wife are, indeed, the adults Mr. Potter is entrusted to, I am sure nobody could possibly object to your presence."

She glared around, daring anyone to contradict her, and the Unspeakables visibly swallowed their objections.

---

And so they went.

The rude Unspeakable had been none-too gently dragged away by the Auror with the deep voice and his more diplomatic companion was left to lead the way into the Ministry, his fake cheer rather dimmed by the turn of events, while Madam Bones and the weedy-looking Auror, whose name turned out to be Rathbone, brought up the rear.

Sky was indescribably grateful for her/his dad's comforting presence at his side, even though David looked almost overwhelmed by the entire experience.

The boy walked mechanically, barely registering the familiar Atrium. The only thing that kept her/his terror-filled swirling thoughts about having been busted at bay was that they'd only wanted him, and not Leia. Surely if this was about the illegal time travel they would have taken us both?

The few workers present gawked with undisguised curiosity at the odd group as they passed by the tacky fountain, with the jets of water gushing from the wands of the witch and wizard, the point of the centaur's arrow, the tip of the goblin's hat and the house-elf's ears.

Harry's right, it's really awfully tasteless... still better than the horror Voldemort came up with, though...

The security man weighed their wands with his mouth open and the look of someone who can't believe his eyes and ears. Sky scowled and lowered his head to hide the thrice-damned scar when he heard the excited whispers of 'Harry Potter, it's Harry Potter!…'

How did Harry stand it? Oh right, he hated it…

But even annoyance couldn't counter his dread… he almost felt as frightened now as she had when they'd been following Harry in his attempt to rescue Sirius…

Merlin, it seems so long ago…

It was perhaps strange, but the time they'd broken into the Ministry to look for Slytherin's Locket was a pale and vague memory in comparison to the richness of details with which the accursed nightly adventure was vividly replaying itself in her mind.

Sky's feeling of foreboding increased as they passed through the golden gates to the lifts he remembered all too well. He noticed in passing that the golden grilles made a lot less noise in sliding apart than the great clanking echoing in his/her memory.

The Unspeakable pressed the number nine button and the odd group stood still, each of them silent and stony-faced, as the lift began to descend, jangling and rattling.

Sky felt his/her dad discreetly clutching his shoulder and he pressed against his side as much as he dared, wishing he could hug him openly.

They stepped out into a deserted corridor that was exactly as it had been that night; then suddenly they were standing in the large, circular room that had featured a lot in her nightmares, always giving her a trapped and helpless feeling.

The identical, unmarked, handle-less black doors were as creepy as in her/his memory, and so were the cool, shimmering candles whose flames burned blue, their lights multiplying in the shining marble floor where they were reflected as if in dark water.

He closed his eyes in synch with the door being shut, not wanting to experience again the dizzying, stomach-churning sensation of the circular wall rotating all around him, the shivering blue flames moving ghastly sideways, ever faster, blurring into lines in their speed, until it felt as if the floor might move, too. The mere memory made him feel queasy.

He kept his eyes firmly closed and his grip on David's arm tight until he was sure that everything had become stationary once again.

The Unspeakable seemed on the verge of saying something, but then the oppressive silence apparently got to him and he just cleared his throat self-consciously, turning to a shiny, smooth door, apparently selected at random.

Sky's thoughts flew wildly as the wizard guided them quickly through and beyond.

So many memories of this place chased each other frantically in his/her mind…

An enormous glass tank of deep green liquid, with a number of pearly-white objects drifting around lazily in it, glimmering eerily… brains, though they looked more like spoilt cauliflowers…

A larger, dimly lit room whose centre sank to form a great stone pit some twenty feet deep, stone benches running all around it and descending in steep steps like an amphitheatre…

The brilliant glare of beautiful, dancing, diamond-sparkling lights in a room full of clocks large and small, grandfather and carriage… the busy, relentless ticking filling the place like thousands of minuscule, marching footsteps…

And most of all… a terrifying stone archway, unsupported by any surrounding wall… ancient, cracked, crumbling… hung with a tattered black veil which was fluttering very slightly despite the chilly stillness of the air, as though it had just been touched… as though someone was just behind it… and the blind, horrifying fear that had seized her in seeing Harry so fascinated with it, looking intrigued enough to climb up on the dais and walk through it…

They saw none of that this time, however. The Unspeakable just led them quickly through unimportant corridors.

And suddenly, they were there: the place that had haunted her memory and, she was sure, Harry's too.

High as a church, cold as the light from the shivering blue flames of the candles and full of nothing but towering shelves covered in small, dusty, glass orbs that glimmered dully.

Suddenly, everything made sense.

This had nothing to do with their Ritual.

They were here for the Prophecy!

As his jumbled thought rearranged themselves around a different kind of worry and his dread morphed into panic at the unknown that he was forcibly facing – would he/she be able to touch the Prophecy? Would she trigger its protections? Had the weight of the Prophecy shifted to her shoulders now? Would it come to light that she wasn't the real Harry? – they walked hurriedly along the shadowy aisles of the Prophecy Hall, on and on until she spied the glimmering silver figure that had been etched indelibly in her mind that night.

Row ninety-seven.

And a little way down it… a tiny, yellowing label affixed to the shelf right beneath a dully glowing glass sphere so dusty it must not have been touched for many years.

He was too short to read it, even craning his neck, but he didn't need to. He already knew that it carried the date of Trelawney's ill-fated Prophecy, the initials of the giver and receiver of the prediction, and the indication that condemned Harry to his fate: Dark Lord and (?)Harry Potter.

The Unspeakable had recovered all of his enthusiasm and was now explaining with genuine excitement what it was and how retrieving it worked.

For possibly the first time in his/her life, Sky tuned out someone giving a lecture, however brief. He just stared at the sphere, his thoughts churning so fast and confusingly that he couldn't make any sense of them.

Suddenly he realized that a stepladder had appeared before him.

Everybody was looking at him expectantly, even her dad.

He climbed the few steps slowly and reluctantly. The very air seemed to hum and vibrate with suspense.

Not knowing what else to do… he reached out to the glowing sphere.

And the world exploded in pain.

---

Hermione awoke groggily to an indistinct world that swam blurrily before her eyes, unable to focus.

White lights, an odd, sanitized smell, vague shapes moving soothingly and orderly around her, shadows invading her view a moment and disappearing the next.

It was calming and confusing at once.

"…hear me?" a gentle but indistinct voice reached her ears. It came from far away. Why didn't whoever was calling come closer, instead of shouting from afar?

She tried to answer, to ask, she had so many questions… but she was so tired, so tired… staying awake was too strenuous a task…

---

She woke again and was confused, there wasn't light and she didn't know where she was.

She tried to call out, was anybody here? But words would not come…

"…awake? Oh, goodness me…"

Yes, there was someone here, but why could she not see? She tried to discern something, squinting her tired eyes… her throat constricted and wouldn't form sounds…

"Do not try to talk," a sympathetic voice close by told her soothingly. "You are unwell still."

Unwell…

Her eyes were drooping, in was an effort to keep them open…

"…try to rest. Sleep again, it will speed up recovery…"

The rest of the sentence was lost as she fell asleep once more.

---

She blinked her eyes open blearily against white, harsh light.

"…finally awake! That is very good…"

It was a bright and cheery voice exclaiming over her, but her sluggish brain could not grasp everything it was saying.

"…St. Mungo's now, so worry not…"

She seized the name greedily from the confusion of sounds bombarding her and clung to it. It was important. She recognized it. She didn't know what it meant, but it held answers, she was sure of it. If only she wasn't so weary… if she could just remember…

Shadows were moving around her now and she had the strangest sensation that she'd seen them doing so before, but could not fathom where… they were strangely comforting though… calming…

A shape vanished from right beside her, then returned. She could barely paid it enough mind to notice…

St. Mungo's… St. Mungo's… there was more than that, she was sure…

"…help you…"

The voice was murmuring soothingly but she didn't listen, didn't want to lose the train of thought…

St. Mungo's… St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries! That was it! She got it!

The enormous achievement gave her a sense of profound triumph.

Someone was helping her gently to raise a little from where she was lying and bringing something cool to her lips, but she was still fully occupied with her triumphant thought.

She was in St. Mungo's… she was ill… no, she was hurt!

The satisfaction in figuring it out didn't leave any space for worry about its meaning and she let her eyes drift shut in contentment. Besides, she didn't feel any pain. That was good.

"Drink this, please, Mr. Potter," said the voice coaxingly.

Her eyes flew open of their own accord and panic flooded her: Harry! Harry was hurt too! Where was he? Was it serious?

She debated feebly.

The shadow near her was dancing in and out of focus, now being so clear she could recognize a reddish-blond woman with lime green robes and a blue potion in her hands, then losing clarity again in a dizzying blur…

Where was Harry? What had happened to them?

But the woman was pressing the transparent goblet to her lips, saying cajolingly: "Mr. Potter, this will help, please, drink it all…"

Utterly confused, Hermione allowed the woman – Healer, a random thought provided, lime green robes are worn by Healers – to help her gulp down the viscous liquid.

And then she sank into oblivion once more.

---

When she woke up again, it was twilight and she was a little more clear-headed.

She registered the lime-green uniform of whoever was standing next to her bed and guessed St. Mungo's.

Something was nagging at the back of her mind.

"Where's Harry?" she tried to ask, worried beyond reason though with no recollection of why.

Unfortunately, what came out of her mouth sounded more like "Gurglehoarkough?"

Confused, she tried again, but with no better results.

A gentle hand gripped her shoulder lightly: "Do not try and talk yet, Mr. Potter. It will take a few more days before you'll be able to…"

And Hermione could do nothing but let her eyes droop again…

---

Hermione woke feeling comfortable and well-rested, lying in bed in a completely unfamiliar room.

"Ah, good, you're awake!"

She whipped her head to the side, bringing the speaker into view. A gentle-looking witch in lime-green robes was carefully putting down a tray of Potions vials on her bedside table.

"Everybody will be most relieved you have come round at long last, they have been extremely worried."

Extremely worried…

"How long?" she croaked, frowning when her voice came out with a strange tone.

"Six weeks, Mr. Potter. You gave us quite the scare!"

The Healer smiled softly and then bustled about, oblivious to the shock she'd just given her patient.

---

A/N: So, a few random notes… The cost of the subscription to the Daily Prophet is based on Hagrid paying five knuts for having it delivered in Philosopher's Stone; that woolly bears allow you to predict the weather is an old superstition; I chose the date of the Quidditch match based on what the Harry Potter Wiki says is an annual fixture; I don't know if English kids bring home a Christmas ornament they make themselves like Italian children do, but it's a tradition I've always loved, so I've included it anyway… oh, and the title of this chapter is shamelessly stolen from 'Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix'.

And here's a more understandable version of the Baron's conversation with Leia…:

"In all seriousness I must ask, why do you always run, Miss Granger? A well-bred girl like you!" tut-tutted the ghost with reproach.

"Are you… scolding me because I run in the corridors?" asked Leia in disbelief.

"Yes indeed, Miss Granger. It is a custom which does not befit your dignity and I must reprimand you!"

Leia gaped. He couldn't be serious!

"Enough of this! Come now! Let us walk together. I called upon you to apologize. I didn't mean to behave so against a knightly conduct, when you sought me where I am accustomed to hide. I was severely angry and you know, misery makes men ill-tempered. When I calmed, I was most sorry."

"Oh! Ah! Okay, I mean, of course! Ah… a-apology accepted, Baron… Why were you angry, though? I thought perhaps I was bothering you? That you wouldn't want to talk to me anymore…"

"No, fair girl. It is that loathsome scoundrel I must blame. He tried to steel my chains! As clearly he intended to shatter them to torment me… For longer years than you imagine, I have carried these chains. They mark me as penitent: the reason why I was most displeased at his evil actions. My vengeance was terrible and he was severely punished before my wrath was appeased!"

He stopped her gently outside McGonagall's class: "Day after day I lead my life in idleness and a companion like you is a gift I am loathe to loose. I you consent, I would gladly reward you with knowledge and tales, if such a prize is worthy in your eyes."

"It will be my pleasure, Baron."

"Thank you."