Hidden gears

A few days later, at the break of dawn, Harry awoke in his irksomely familiar bed in the infirmary, blinking a few times to shut out the dazzling morning light.

'Good morning, Master Harry!' Minnie's shrill voice rattled his brains, serving its purpose better than a few dozen alarms. 'You is looking very fit today. Is Master Harry wishing for some breakfast?'

'Thanks, Minnie,' returned Harry grumpily, pressing the cushion onto his face to muffle the volume of her piercing shriek. He rather liked his family house-elves, but they were a bit much to deal with so early. Nevertheless, he suspected that Minnie was earnestly pleased to be able to serve him while he was at school, so he couldn't quite bring himself to order her to be quiet. She really was adorable.

'Ah, I bid you good morning as well, Harry. I hope you are faring better today?'

Harry ceased his antics with the pillow immediately. With as much dignity as he could muster, he sat up, ignoring the embarrassment as best as he could. He looked towards his visitor and just barely managed to turn his curse into a cough. 'Good morning, Headmaster. To what do I owe the pleasure?' Harry swore those damned eyes twinkled in amusement at the scene they had witnessed.

'Making sure one of our brightest is up to snuff, naturally. That is what I told Poppy, at least. She really is giving it her best with you, you know? I hope you've let her know that you appreciate her devotion.'

'Considering that she only yesterday threatened to jinx me if I were to further call her Madam Pomfrey, I'd say we're good, Professor,' said Harry with a weak smile. 'I am grateful for your concern, sir, but if this is more than a simple check-up, I'd rather have my Head of House in attendance.'

Dumbledore smiled. 'I am glad that you have found trust in a few members of staff, at least. But have I really done anything to warrant this level of mistrust in comparison to Professor Snape?'

'I...guess not.' Harry sighed, rubbing his eyes.

The old warlock, however, looked rather interested. 'Now, do I have to take this as a token of confidence or a sign that you've become a bit wary of Professor Snape, Harry?'

Harry mentally cursed himself for real this time. Dealing with one of history's slyest and most powerful wizards ten seconds after rousing from sleep was clearly beyond him. 'I'm sorry, sir. Please do not take my words at face value when I'm barely awake; I'm really not a morning person. In the interest of clarifying the matter, I do not wish to complain about my Head of House. If anything, I feel like I overreacted a bit when we last spoke in your office, sir. I still stand behind the sentiments spoken, but there was no need for that tone or my...theatrical departure. I have meant to apologise for that, but with one thing and another...'

Yet Dumbledore merely smiled benignly, waving his hand as if to dispel the bad air. 'Don't worry, my boy. You may have trouble imagining it, but even your grandfather and I weren't born with a beard, you know.' His eyes shone jovially when he spotted a small box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans that Daphne had left for Harry. 'Indeed, sometimes our youthful desires catch up to us even at our ripe age.' With great care, Dumbledore picked a single bean of a warm yellow colour. 'If I may?' he asked hopefully.

Harry raised an eyebrow and shrugged. He really couldn't tell if the eccentricities were meant to throw him off or part of the real Dumbledore. Taking in the garish mint green robe, he surmised it to be the latter.

'Ah, most excellent: peach! Maybe our luck is finally having a turn for the better.' Dumbledore chuckled happily, apparently oblivious to Harry's disbelieving look. 'But in earnest, I wanted to inform you that three older students of House Gryffindor have been temporarily suspended for their part in the incident that has landed you here.'

Harry raised an eyebrow. 'Three, sir?'

Dumbledore nodded. 'Indeed, three, Harry.'

Harry hesitated for a bit. 'There were more than three people involved, Professor. Besides me, I mean.'

'I am aware of that. Sadly, only three people came forward and openly admitted their guilt. They claimed it to be a prank that may have gotten out of hand when you used advanced defensive magic.'

'Sir, with all due respect, as you said, I used defensive magic.' Harry scoffed. 'I find it hard to believe that more than a handful of students picked a Blasting Curse at random in their panicked effort to-as you say-react to me casting a Shield Charm.'

'A reasonable assumption. I, too, find the explanation given somewhat lacking, especially considering the remarkable destruction they wreaked. Still, you should know how these things would go if an official inquiry were to take place. The evidence is mostly circumstantial, and there were no witnesses. In fact, it would not be impossible to construe the events in a way that would present you in a less than inculpable light.'

Harry narrowed his eyes. 'So you're saying that I should take all this as a token of justice because I cannot hope for better, sir?'

Dumbledore nodded gravely.

'If I were to take a guess, I would say that there was probably no one suspended who belonged to any major family with a Wizengamot background?' Harry spat.

Dumbledore lowered his head slightly. 'You are correct, Harry. It is most curious.'

'Gryffindors indeed,' Harry sneered, turning his head away from his headmaster, not willing to let him see the anger that burned in his eyes.

'I wish I had better news. Given your grandfather's actions, I doubt you will have to face any more ambuscades in the foreseeable future. Only a truly desperate person would dare risk facing your family's wrath. A small silver lining, at least.'

Harry remained silent. Yes, I'm probably somewhat safe for now, but no thanks to anyone but Grandfather. Shouldn't have expected anything to begin with, I guess.

'Well, if you'll excuse me, Harry. I look forward to seeing your academic results at the end of the year.'

'Thank you, sir,' the younger Black murmured absentmindedly.

~BLHD~

'So, that's everything, really! I know it's not the most interesting of topics, but it can't all be duels and catching bad guys. Merlin knows, I wish it were. So, any questions? And I really wouldn't mind queries about something other than the history of Alchemy, if you catch my drift.' The man grinned rascally.

'Professor Prewett? I have a question, but I fear it really doesn't fit with the topic of the lesson...'

'Finnigan, two points to Gryffindor!' Their History of Magic teacher laughed. 'Now, what is this intriguing question you have for us?'

'Sir, I wonder. You know, there was all that trouble a few weeks ago, with all the rumours and stuff, and I wondered if you could tell us a bit about the Blacks...' His voice trailed away weakly.

Hermione sat up straight, and she wasn't the only one either. A lot of people who had been in the process of packing up their belongings suddenly sat very still.

'Ah, yes,' Prewett responded, the grin sliding off his face. 'Well, it's only natural to be curious. Let me tell you two things about the Blacks.' He sat back on his desk, taking out his wand. 'First and foremost: they are dangerous in every way known to wizardkind.'

'You mean like in a duel, sir?' Finnigan asked.

'Yes, but that's not everything, I'm afraid. It's true, though; I personally don't know of any person called Black that was not at least above-average in matters of duelling.' He winced slightly and rubbed his side. 'I'm sure you remember what that big-headed son of a bitch, his grace, Lord Black did. That one's particularly nasty, let me tell you. You'd all better stay clear of him until he finally bites the dust. Don't mess with a Black unless you're really sure of yourself.'

'You're exaggerating, sir. Their little prince has been beaten pretty soundly, hasn't he?' someone called from the backline.

'Don't be daft, Ron. Their last scion's...personal history aside, I'm sure Harry Black would blow most of you to smithereens before you'd have drawn your wands. It's true that you or Neville here probably know more about Defence than him, but I hear he's dabbling in some NEWT level stuff in Charms, so I wouldn't call him exactly harmless. Still, you don't get what I'm really talking about here. It's not all about magical prowess, don't you see? Some blasting idiots really upset the old tosser, and now the shit has really hit the fan.'

'What do you mean, sir? You, ehm, you're talking about Lord Black again, right, sir?' Hermione asked carefully, trying not to upset her teacher who clearly harboured a deep dislike for the man.

'Right, right, you wouldn't know of course. You're Muggle-born, correct, Granger?' Prewett asked.

'That's right, sir,' she returned a bit stiffly.

He smiled faintly. 'No need to glare at me, young lady. I don't give a rat's ass. What I'm talking about is that some complete buffoon provoked the Blacks long enough that they've now publicly declared vendetta against all those that attack their kin. Barmy, right, but still really dangerous.'

'What?' Finnigan shouted loudly. 'You mean that's for real?'

Their professor chuckled spiritlessly. 'Yes, sadly that bit of gossip is true.'

Another one in the back row raised her voice. 'Vendetta? How can the Blacks get away with that? Why don't they do something about them in the Wizengamot or something?'

'It's not that easy, you know,' said Prewett. 'Don't ask me that stuff, I can't be bothered with all that really intricate political crap.' A few people snickered appreciatively. 'I always was more the hexing first, talking later guy, but, apparently, or so I've been told, there exist those really old laws that practically nobody knows anymore, and if there is such a thing, you can count on those conniving bitches of Blacks to be aware of them. So, as long as there are sufficient grounds to invoke those laws-Merlin alone knows what exactly those are-then it seems it's completely legal to attack all disputants of major Wizengamot lines.'

'But, sir, why don't they change the rules?'

'They can't, that's why.' The muscular former head of the Auror Office leant his back against the desk and tossed his wand high in the air, catching it with alternating hands without really paying attention. 'Some laws are bound to the institution of the Wizengamot itself. You should know by now that the Wizengamot precedes the British Ministry of Magic by several centuries. It's not possible to change or abolish some of them. But those are not even the worst. There was a time when case-law was mostly done verbally.'

'Sir, you mean there are laws that aren't written down but are just as binding as all those you can read up?' Hermione asked, horrified.

'That's exactly what I mean, Miss Granger. Glad to see you realise the magnitude of the problem,' he replied in a falsely cheerful tone.

'B-but how can such a law even be followed if there are no records,' she asked, aghast.

'I never said there were no records. I just said there were no public records.' He sighed dramatically. 'Look, let's not get into that right now. We've gotten way off topic here. Point is, the Blacks can legally and practically declare war on any family that attacks their offspring for the foreseeable future.'

'And those without Wizengamot connections, Professor?' Finnigan asked apprehensively.

Their teacher actually seemed to wince at the thought. 'You'd better not even ask.'

After a few seconds of pensive silence, Hermione decided to steer the conversation back to the beginning. A little bit more can't hurt, right? Greengrass and Harry aren't here anyway, and I can't really imagine Draco minding me asking questions, so... 'Sir, you said there were two things we should know about the Blacks, didn't you?'

'Ah, right you are, Miss Granger,' he said with forced joviality, clearly relieved to have escaped the topic somewhat. 'Right, here's the second thing: don't ever assume that you really know what their game is. If you don't share their name, they'll never be completely open with you. I want to stress this point especially since we have you Slytherins in this class. I'm sure you think Harry Black looks right harmless and friendly. I'd wager most of you believe he's some kind of personable, reclusive kid who likes his studies and fancy robes.' Prewett's airy personality was by now a mere memory. He looked tense, not unlike a predator ready to pounce or, Hermione mused, flee. 'If you really think so, then you've already lost the game before you even know you're playing. Listen up, kids: if a Black has to choose between his family and his friends; his family and his love; his family and justice; hell, if the Blacks have to choose between the lives of hundreds and their thrice-be-damned family, then they'll always pick their own cursed brood without a second thought.'

They all gaped wordlessly at their teacher whose eyes had a slightly mad gleam to them. He was shaking, Hermione realised. Oh my god! What could've happened to make him hate the Blacks like that...?

Professor Prewett made a grotesque face, gripping his wand so hard that the knuckles turned white as snow. 'Right, don't tell me later that I didn't warn you. Now trot along or I'll have to endure another of Minerva's lectures about "proper behaviour for educational figures".'

Hermione packed her things and shot out of the classroom as fast as she could, eager to leave the awkward atmosphere behind, never quite noticing the cold look she had been receiving for the last ten minutes.

~BLHD~

'Isn't this enough, Ma...' Harry coughed sheepishly, cringing slightly when Pomfrey raised her wand threateningly. 'I mean, Poppy?' he amended hastily.

The matron glared at him for a second before smiling back. 'Well, truthfully, I could've let you loose days ago, but you've been sleeping so much I thought you were still recovering. Maybe you're just bored with the lessons, hm?'

'What?' Harry replied in a suitably outraged voice. 'Never! I love healing! Granted, I would love it even more if I could learn it without ending up here heavily injured sometime soon, but you can't have everything I guess.' He smiled back at her. 'And you're a really good teacher, Poppy!'

She beamed at him. 'That is sweet of you to say. Now sit still, and don't think I'll go easy on your last check-up just because you heap praise on me.'

'Yes, ma'am,' replied a grinning Harry, earning himself a sharpish poke with a wand to his ribs.

Fifteen minutes later, the matron finally seemed satisfied with her findings. 'Well, everything looks in order. You still seem a bit weaker than I'd like, but we'll have to go with it for now. If you think anything is off or you think your sleeping habits get even worse, come by and we'll have another look.'

Harry snorted. I really have other problems than my sleeping habits for now.

Pomfrey, reading his expression, raised her finger in lecture. 'Harry, if you don't take this seriously, maybe we should confine you to the infirmary for another week or so? Or maybe I should have Minnie follow you all day?'

Harry eagerly shook his head, trying with all his might to arrange his face into an expression of remorseful insight. 'NO! I mean, no, that won't be necessary, Poppy.'

She seemed far from convinced but obviously decided to let it go. 'We shall see. Now off you go. I bet you can't wait to resume your studies.'

'Thanks again for everything!' Harry said to the retreating form of the matron.

'If you want to do me a favour, Harry,' she replied on her way to her office, 'please make it at least a fortnight before you end up here again.'

Harry couldn't help himself and chuckled a bit. Swinging his legs from the bed, he turned towards the small creature at his side. Minnie, doing her utmost to be prepared, held out one of his new Hogwarts robes for him with an expectant expression. Not wanting to waste his energy trying to argue with a zealous elf, Harry let her help him dress.

'Thanks, Minnie. You may retreat to the kitchens if you want. I'll call you should I need anything. And please don't appear on your own when I'm in the company of outsiders.'

The small elf drooped. 'Minnie will do as Master Harry commands.'

Harry rolled his eyes good-naturedly. 'You were a big help, Minnie,' he said gently, 'and I promise I'll call upon you often, alright?'

'Master Harry will?' Minnie's pout instantly turned into a radiant and hopeful smile when she saw him nod. 'Minnie will be doing her bestest then!' She smoothed some imaginary creases on his robes, bowed deeply to him, and disapparated with a big smile and a loud crack.

Harry gripped his wand and craned his neck, flexing the muscles in his shoulders. Right, now onwards to take charge of my own fate again. His mind made up, he purposefully strode towards the exit of the infirmary.

~BLHD~

Hermione sighed–again. It had been a long day, like all the other days recently. While she personally didn't mind the school work, even in light of the 'upcoming' exams, her agreement with Draco had resulted in her spending at least three hours a day pouring over private information she was really still convinced she had no business knowing.

She couldn't deny that she'd learned a lot, of course. She also took advantage of the three questions Draco granted her each session they spent together. But even in light of her newly rekindled friendship with Harry, she couldn't quite help herself and wondered if she was doing the right thing, all in all. She knew enough by now to take all the stories Professor Prewett spouted with a pinch of salt, but they did leave a really nasty aftertaste, as if they were somehow polluting her memories, worming their way unbidden into the depths of her imagination, showing her housemates in an ugly, disfiguring light. She couldn't quite keep herself from brooding over how her parents would react if they knew what she was doing every evening...

Hermione sighed–again. At least I've got this part down. Most Slytherins seem to be either sighing, smirking or sneering half of the time, so I think I'm making progress.

Walking in front of a large group of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs who were also headed to the Great Hall, her sarcastic insights were suddenly disrupted when she felt the weight of her school bag drop. Looking back, she saw all her parchment and most of her books widespread on the floor.

Hermione sighed–again.

She kneeled down and made to collect her belongings, ignoring the taunting remarks and occasional 'unintentional' kicks that scattered her homework across the corridor. Just when one of the last Hufflepuffs was about to casually strike out at her copy of Hogwarts: A History, she heard a small pitiful yell before said Hufflepuff did a runner, blue horns sprouting from his behind.

'Need any help, Hermione?'

She looked up and returned a grateful little smile towards her aider. 'Thanks, Miss Fawley.'

The prefect sniggered. 'No need to thank me; I've been looking for a chance to try that jinx for weeks. I wonder how he'll sit down for dinner.'

With the help of the older girl, Hermione had soon arranged her possessions in an orderly pile.

'Blasted idiots. Sorry, Hermione.' Fawley indicated Hermione's bag that now sported a long and precise cut. 'Looks like something hit by a Severing Charm if you ask me.'

Hermione nodded, keeping her head down. 'Why do they insist on doing this...?'

Fawley put her arm around her, dragging her gently to her feet again. 'Come on, it's not so bad. Here, let me help you.' She murmured something and swished her wand in a complicated pattern until a wiggling mass of colourful wrapping papers packed her school material in one chequered box. 'Meh,' the older girl said critically, 'my mum somehow manages to do it a lot more elegantly. Well, it'll have to do.' She smiled and picked up the parcel, carrying it under one of her arms. 'Come on, let's get you to the common room.'

'Thanks,' Hermione muttered dejectedly.

Fawley laughed warmly. 'It's nothing, Hermione.' She looked around in a playfully conspiratorial manner. 'Hey, do you have anything planned after dinner?'

'Well,' Hermione said guardedly, 'I'm supposed to meet someone, but why do you ask?'

'Ah, well, if you've got something planned already,' Fawley answered loftily. 'And here I wanted to let you in on the secret that the house-elves here make really great ice-cream if you ask them nicely. But, I can see that you have an important meeting, of course...' She grinned at Hermione again, her long, curly blond hair dancing to the tune of her suppressed laughter.

Hermione bit her lip. 'Well,' she responded slowly, 'well, I suppose he won't really mind if I'm late for once.'

Fawley beamed with joy. 'Awesome! But first, let's get your stuff into the dormitories. A friend of mine is really good with Knitting Charms. That'll last longer than trying to mend it with a simple Reparo.'

This time, Hermione returned a much more earnest smile. 'Thank you.' She spoke in a soft tone that bordered on whispering.

Fawley winked at her. 'Come on, I haven't had my ice-cream for days now! The sacrifices school demands!' She threw her free hand dramatically towards the ceiling. 'I'll show you how to get into the kitchens while we're at it. I'm sure not many first years know...'

And Hermione, again, could only smile back.

~BLHD~

It was much, much later in the evening that Hermione finally returned to the common room. Draco was sitting by the fire talking with Harry, who was gesticulating wildly, his face grim.

'Where have you been?!' snapped Draco. 'I've been waiting for two hours. At least tell me before you decide to ditch me, Granger!'

Hermione looked vaguely embarrassed. 'Sorry, Draco. I just...something came up. It won't happen again, sorry.'

Harry and Draco exchanged a short glance before Draco gave a great shrug. 'Well, if it's just this once...'

Hermione grinned guiltily before addressing Harry. 'It's good to see you out of the infirmary again!'

Harry smiled back. Odd, thought Hermione. If I didn't know better, I'd say he looks kind of sad.

'Thanks, it is good to be back. At least I don't have to worry about catching up on coursework. I'm grateful you kept me up to date, Hermione.'

She gave him a small smile. 'It was nothing. I'm looking forward to having someone who takes the end of year exams seriously. Tracey and Draco insist that they're ages away and keep putting off their revisions.'

Draco rolled his eyes. 'You're barmy, Granger. We've still got four months. Four months! I'll be damned if I start revising already.'

'Ah, well. Don't mind me showing you up in Transfiguration again, then,' she said delicately.

Draco's eye twitched almost indiscernibly, forcing Harry to stifle his laughter.

~BLHD~

Harry climbed the stairs to the seventh corridor, inwardly steeling himself. Last chance to reconsider, Harry. He paused, clenching his wand again. Shaking his head, he proceeded towards the room Draco had told him about.

Knocking twice, he turned the handle. He was barely one step into the room, his eyes glued to the impressive amount of documents Draco had gathered when he heard a voice shouting.

'Flippendo! Expelliarmus!'

Harry whirled around, batting the first jinx into the wall by pure instinct, ducking the Disarming Charm in one smooth motion, before pointing his wand in the general direction of the spells, twirling his wand left twice before jabbing it violently forward.

A giant soap bubble sprang from his wand with a sound like a vinyl coming to a grinding halt. The bubble soared through the room and hit a figure that crouched in the shadows to his right. The assailant raised his wand again but, instead of another incantation, blew a great blue bubble from his mouth.

'Now, now, Draco. A bit overeager, aren't we? Good to see you, too.' Harry smiled evilly. 'Is it already time for me to put you in your place again?'

Draco raised both of his hands in panic, letting go of his wand in the process. 'N-no, Harry, I...' But he couldn't keep protesting his innocence, as another soap bubble, even bigger than the last grew from both his mouth and nose. It took at least ten seconds for the frantic Draco to pop it, and even then the ordeal seemed to have taken the strength out of him. Fighting for breath, he lay on the floor, spitting soap.

'You know,' Harry said, smirking, 'I've always wondered if those bubbles taste of lye. If they do, I can't imagine it's a very pleasurable experience, in addition to the little problem of respiration, of course.'

Draco looked up resentfully, throwing up another mouthful of smaller bubbles.

Harry kneeled down in front of him, shooting him a grandfatherly look. 'This may be the time to asseverate me of your humorous intentions, Draco. Otherwise, I might just, in equally good spirits, forget the counter-charm, you know?'

Draco nodded emphatically. 'I'b dobby, Habby!' he pleaded through the foam that by now engulfed his entire mouth.

Harry looked unconvinced, levelling a playful smile in Hermione's direction who'd observed the spectacle in silence the whole time. 'What do you think, Hermione? Does this constitute an apology?'

She seemed torn between reproof and amusement, and shrugged, an insecure smile on her lips. 'I'm not sure, Harry, but I don't want him spitting on the floor the whole time. Could you do something about that?'

Harry laughed and hit Draco hard on the head with his wand. The bubbles disappeared in an instant.

'What kind of counter-charm is that?! Hitting me like that...'

'Oh, it was nothing, really. The actual spell had nothing to do with that, I just wanted to take the opportunity.' Harry smiled down at the usually poised Malfoy and held out his hand.

Draco reluctantly decided to take it but shot Harry a nasty look all the same. 'There was no need for that, I just wanted to make sure you haven't gotten rusty, you know. Lying in the infirmary for weeks and all that.'

'You're doing these things regularly?' Hermione asked, eyes wide open.

'Yeah,' Harry returned. 'Every once in a while, Draco seems to think he can get me.'

'How often has he, then?' Hermione asked inquisitively.

'Nowhere near often enough,' grumbled Draco, brushing the dust from his robes and taking a seat in front of Hermione, trying very much to ignore the feeling of biting into a large piece of soap.

Harry turned towards Hermione, smirked, and mouthed, 'Never.'

'Yes, yes. As amusing as it is, I'm sure you haven't come here merely to ruin my tea for me. Merlin, I can't drink this anymore! Can't you do anything about the lingering taste, mate?'

Harry shrugged uncaringly. 'I'd try brushing my teeth, Draco.'

'Haha, really witty, man,' Draco shot Harry one last shirty glare. 'Speaking of witty.' All of a sudden, the Malfoy seemed to regain his fervour. 'How have you managed to escape Tracey and Greengrass? It sure didn't look like Greengrass wanted to let you out of her sight ever again. You can bring her into our dormitory if you really want, you know? I don't mind.'

Harry shuddered. 'They, uh, I may have led them to believe that I'm taking a bath right now, actually.' He sheepishly looked down at their assorted lists and documents, avoiding their gazes.

'Harry,' Hermione interrupted the boys, 'why don't you simply tell her to back off a bit? You're letting her walk right over you. That's why the situation's become like this in the first place.'

Harry smiled in a slightly embarrassed fashion. 'Yes, I'm aware of that. It's...complicated.' He looked at Hermione's list of the people she'd met this year. Catching Draco's glance, he nodded subtly.

'I don't know, Harry,' started Hermione again. 'There really has to be a better way to deal with her.'

'Concerning Greengrass,' Draco looked positively alight with glee for some strange reason, 'are you sure you want to encourage her wondering why you're taking so long in the bath? What if she decides to check when you don't come back for an hour or longer? If she overcomes her inhibitions once, you'll forever be in danger of her doing it again, you know?'

Harry instantly dropped the paper and strode towards the door, never even looking back. 'I... Good point, Draco, thank you. I think I'd better head back right this instant. I'll see the both of you later.'

Harry did, in fact, not head straight for the common room. He made a brief detour to the library because there was something he might end up needing if his plans were to come to fruition. It took a lot of begging, but in the end, Madam Pince gave him the tome he requested. The magic he sought to learn was not exactly forbidden for first years or even in the restricted section, but the staff rigorously discouraged the students from learning it. Professor Flitwick had once told him that he usually avoided the topic altogether before OWLs. There existed countermeasures of course, but the problem was specifically detecting if the charm had been cast in the first place. Not to mention that only very rare individuals would end up casting it correctly, but precision was not, Harry reminded himself, what he had in mind in any case.

Serviceable Secrets of the Synapse firmly lodged under his arm, Harry sped towards the common room, slightly worried Draco may have had a point with Daphne. A few minutes later, he carefully opened the secret passage, peering into the room. There were only two people visible, and Harry immediately recognised the silhouettes of Tracey and Daphne. Tracey looked up when he entered, and to his immediate worry, her face looked dead serious, not a single trace of playfulness, fake or otherwise, perceivable.

With a slight sense of apprehension, he drew nearer, making no effort to soften his steps. Daphne raised her head a bit. She looked like a person that has been to hell and back–several times. Her hair was dishevelled; her clothes wrinkled; her gaze was dull and downcast. When their eyes finally met, her body trembled, and she gave a puny wail, her eyes welling up immediately.

Harry rushed to their side, sitting down on Daphne's other side. 'What's happened?' he asked urgently.

Tracey, uncharacteristically, grimaced. 'Five minutes after you decided to make your getaway,' she shot him a scolding look, 'Daphne got an owl.' She sighed, rubbing her eyes. 'It's not good. You better read it yourself.'

She gently nudged her best friend, who seemed to fight off her stupor briefly. Her trembling hands passed him a fairly important looking piece of abraded parchment, one of those that were usually reserved for official business. On the front, nearly unrecognisable from the stains of Daphne's dolour, stood the proud coat of arms of the Greengrass family.

Harry looked in confusion over to Daphne, but his cousin was hiding her sobbing face from him, her arms clasping her legs. Tracey gently rubbed Daphne's back but nodded towards the envelope again. 'Read it, Harry.'

Bewildered, Harry unfolded the parchment.

'Daphne,

It has come to my attention that, despite all the ongoing chaos and malicious rumours surrounding a certain person, you still insist on associating with him on a daily basis. As I've explained to you previously, I intend to manoeuvre the Greengrass line into a more advantageous position, and that is mutually exclusive to any form of continued, permanent association with the Blacks.

You will, therefore, cease your interactions with Harry Black during your stay at Hogwarts, lest you endanger my plans for our family. If you go against my will in this matter, I will immediately have you and your sister out of Britain.

I'm sorry it has come to this. Stay put until my current negotiations are finished, or I'll arrange it so that you'll never see the boy again. The same will happen should you complain to your mother. Don't test me.

Your grandmother,
Esmerelle Greengrass'

Harry narrowed his eyes. The instant I am about to put my plan into action this happens? I admit we were a bit careless, but the timing is beyond coincidence. And because of the special circumstances in regards to the Greengrasses, Grandfather won't be able to help me with this one... Damn!

'Harry...' He turned his head and looked down at the shrunken, near lifeless figure of his cousin. She gazed at him with a pleading, fearful expression, an endless stream of tears springing from her ocean-blue eyes. She grabbed a fistful of his robes, lowered her head and whispered so quietly that Harry, at first, wasn't sure that she had murmured anything at all, 'Please don't leave me...'

'Two weeks,' Harry answered softly, his green eyes blazing with determination. 'Give me two weeks.'

'You promised,' she said under her breath. 'You promised that you wouldn't leave me, too.'

'And I won't,' he said solemnly, throwing one arm around her shoulder in a somewhat lopsided embrace. Daphne broke out in tears again, holding onto Harry's robes as if her life depended on it. Over her head, Tracey and Harry exchanged a meaningful glance.