9th March

"Someone's chirpy this morning." Ron commented as I walked with vigour into the Hospital Wing this morning.

I beamed, "I get to see George today, you know, amongst other things…!"

"Ew." He screwed up his face, "Too much information."

"Oh Ronald, stop being so prudish." I retorted, "Besides, the relationship I have with your brother isn't all about sex, you know. We have these things called conversations. Maybe you and your girlfriend should try having one of those."

He glared at me, "So d'you want to know what happened last night?"

"First off, Harry – it's good to see you awake. You're looking a lot better than I was expecting."

"I woke up late last night." Harry informed me.

"Probably about an hour after you were unceremoniously sent to bed." Ron joked, recalling my annoyance at being told what to do, as I took a seat on the edge of Harry's bed, "You missed a real -"

Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat, her foot tapping the flagged floor, "Your potions are ready."

I looked up to see the little medicine cups of liquid sitting at the bed I so often occupied. That was a hint and a half. I walked over and downed them like shots before returning to sit on Harry's bed again. I was making her aware of my disapproval of her actions last night, not arranging for me to bring potions with me to go out for lunch with George today.

"Tell me everything." I looked between the two boys, swinging my feet back and forth in anticipation.

"Well…" Ron began, "He started threatening to get out of bed to murder McLaggen when he found out the final score from the match was 320-60."

I smirked, "That's all taken care of, don't you worry your cracked skull over that. How's your head anyway?"

Harry placed his hand on his bandages, "Bit tender under all this. What did you do to McLaggen?"

"Me?" I questioned, dramatically placing a hand on my chest, "What makes you think I did anything?"

Ron chuckled, "Because you do revenge in the best way."

"I'll take that as a compliment." I smiled before saying, "Well, if you must know, McLaggen very mysteriously had his hand put in warm water when he was sleeping -"

"No. Way." Harry and Ron grinned simultaneously.

"And he may have had a powerful laxative put in his glass of water by his bed… He did have a good loooooong drink before going to sleep, I heard…"

Ron was in stitches at the idea, "Bet he didn't see it coming."

Harry clutched his sides, gasping for breath, "I bet he saw it coming and couldn't stop it! Please tell me it was running down his legs?"

"I can't possibly comment." I tried to straighten my face, "But what I do recall is the terrible smell coming down the stairs from the boys' dormitory."

"Oh I feel so much better now." Harry smiled, "I actually wanted to ask you -"

I held up a wiggling finger, "My story for yours."

"Okay… So I saw Malfoy and a couple of girls before the match yesterday. They were definitely up to something – why would he be skulking off when the rest of the school is outside?"

"I don't know, Harry…" I sighed, I felt like I'd heard this story a thousand times, though part of me was very curious as to who the girls were and why he didn't ask me for help.

Harry sat up a little straighter, an eye checked to see if Madam Pomfrey was still in her office as he lowered his voice, "I've decided to take action: I summoned Kreacher and he was fighting Dobby, so he appeared too, with Peeves. Anyway, I asked them to tail Malfoy – where he's going, who he's meeting and what he's doing around the clock. I thought of every way to prevent Kreacher from telling Malfoy what he's doing. I've told them to give me an update when it's just the four of us."

"Oh Harry…"

"I want to know what's going on with Malfoy." He stated, "And before you object, I know that you know he's up to something. I know you feel like you owe him, but -"

"Fine." I said, "Even my curiosity is getting the better of me…"

It was so refreshing walking the cobbled streets of Edinburgh this afternoon with George. It was his idea; to be away from the confines of somewhere we both know and to explore some place new. He had the camera out, snapping pictures left, right and centre. The medieval Old Town strongly reminded me of Diagon Alley, except I was surrounded by Muggles going about their daily business as we ambled along doing a bit of window shopping.

After purchasing a box of the finest Scottish shortbread, we walked the length of the Royal Mile, up towards Edinburgh Castle. We stood, looking out over the city, hand in hand, without a care in the world.

"You hungry?" George asked me.

I smiled at him, "You've just seen the sign for the all-day fry, haven't you?" I pointed towards a shop front on one of the streets below us.

"Maybe?" he smirked, "So can we? Go in?"

I gave him a gentle shove, "Course we can!" I took the lead, descending down the hill from the castle, walking into the café where we were seated at the window.

"You seem a lot happier." George said after we ordered a fry each, "Your hand function must be nearly back to normal now?" he watched as I gripped onto the tiny milk jug handle with my left hand.

"You have no idea how much of a relief it is," I told him, pouring milk into my tea and doing the same for him, "I'm still aware of weaknesses…" I reached my hand out across the table and gripped onto his.

"Have you still been sleeping a lot?" he asked as he gently played with my fingers.

I nodded, "I sleep every lunchtime, but that's just because of the nerve potion. There's less pain, so I'm generally sleeping less?" I told him, "But Madam Pomfrey didn't give me any potions for now – don't ask – so I'm going to have to go back sooner than I wish."

"You know I'm going to have to ask?"

"She doesn't want me out in public, especially with those potions in my system, she said I'm too vulnerable -"

"Ah." George nodded, "You can understand her point, though?" and as I was about to open my mouth to object he said, "I know you were annoyed at her calling you vulnerable, and -"

I sat back, allowing the plates of food to be placed in front of us before responding, "I'm with you, I'm safe with you, I trust you, that you'll -"

George tapped my plate with his knife, "Eat – you'll feel better."

I smirked, "That sounds just like something R -"

"I think in this moment he'd be able to talk sense into you." George raised an eyebrow, chewing on a piece of bacon, "You get grouchy when you're hungry and tired – yes, I'm flattered that you argue the case for me, but she is a Medi-witch and sometimes you just have to -"

I sighed, shaking my head, "You're as bad as she is, but at least you'll kiss me and make me forget what I was annoyed about."

"That, I will do with gladness." He smiled, "Eat."

10th March

"Kit-Kat, I need to talk to you." Ginny approached me at breakfast, "Now."

I knew that meant I had to drop everything, I learnt that lesson rather painfully back in second year, but to my surprise she slipped into the seat beside me. The boys were discharged from the Hospital Wing when I arrived for my potions. I imagine Hermione is in her element, filling them in on the latest gossip about McLaggen, which I may or may not have had a hand in, "What's up?" I asked, setting down my toast, alarmed by the look of anger on her face.

"Dean." She said through gritted teeth, "He was making fun of Harry getting hit by that Bludger. He could have died! It's no laughing matter! How can someone be so insensitive?"

It was one of those moments that when someone is staring at you, expecting you to have a perfectly balanced response, but you have nothing, "What an arse." Was all I could conjure in the moment.

"What if it was me who took the hit? Would he be laughing then?"

"He certainly wouldn't be laughing if he woke hours later in the Hospital Wing with bandages around his head."

"Right?!" Ginny seemed satisfied with my response, "I don't understand –" she paused, distracted by something or someone behind me, an amused expression grew on her face, "did you hear about what happened to McLaggen?"

I shrugged my shoulders.

Ginny drew my attention to the group of seventh year boys who had just passed behind us. She lowered her voice before saying, "Someone put hair removal potion into his shampoo. Please tell me it was you."

"I heard it was actually in his conditioner bottle." I said, taking a sip of juice.

Ginny beamed, "Marry me."

"Only if things don't work out with George."

"Deal." We shook hands.

"I think the patchy look is quite riveting." I remarked, not shying away from staring at the sparse tufts of blonde hair on McLaggen's head, "I wondered if I got the consistency right."

Ginny smirked, "Any further plans?"

"That would be telling, little sister." I tapped my nose, "But I do recall Peeves owes me a favour…"

"What're you two talking about?" Harry slipped into the seat beside me and Ron sat opposite with Hermione, "What happened to McLaggen's hair – did you?"

I placed a hand on my chest and acted astounded, "Why do you lot always suspect me?"

"WHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" a high pitched cackling noise sounded, followed by the appearance of Peeves, whose face was alive with excitement, "PEEEEEEVSSSSIIIEEE'S HERE!"

"Now?!" Ginny's eyes locked onto mine as Peeves started pelting raw eggs at McLaggen whose friends abandoned him, quickly running out of the line of fire.

Peeves was laughing hysterically, clearly having the time of his life, making 'eggsellent' puns and mocking McLaggen's poor efforts at the Quidditch match for all to hear. The school was collectively in fits of laughter as Peeves commented on how McLaggen wasn't looking his best, and proceeded to cheer him up with different types of flours, being poured over his balding head. And also sweetened him up by adding some sugar. It was only when the jug of pumpkin juice was being lifted that McGonagall stepped in and threatened him – but she was too late – and McLaggen was a sodden sticky mess. A spell was shot in his direction, making Peeves leave the Great Hall to loud cheers and his own chuckles of glee.

Ginny grinned, "I don't need a man to make me happy, not when I've got you."

I leaned in close so only she could hear, "A man has his uses."

"Now that has brightened up my morning." Harry commented with a grin, quickly followed by a cheerful looking Ron giving me a discreet pat across the table before getting up and Hermione taking a bite out of her toast to hide her glee.

Ginny and I shared a glance, "What exactly are you referring to, Harry?" I asked him as Ginny tried to hide the sudden colour in her cheeks.

"McLaggen, Peeves, the -" he pointed to the trail of mess McLaggen left behind, "what'd you -?"

I shook my head, "Where's Ronniekins going?"

Hermione edged her head to a space further up the Gryffindor table where Ron was now sitting with Lavender, the two of them sitting in a stony silence. Hermione's expression was quite the contrary, though she tried to hide it.

"I've got a meeting with Dumbledore this evening." Harry shared conversationally.

"You know Harry," I said sarcastically, "You really ought to stop getting yourself into so much trouble. It wasn't fair all those pranks you pulled on poor McLaggen…"

He rolled his eyes, "Fred and George would be proud."

11th March

I sat down in front of Harry this morning, tapping the table excitedly with the palms of my hands, "Sorry I'm late… tell me everything."

"Did you know that Tom Riddle worked in Borgin and Burkes when he left school?"

"No…" I said, my interest definitely piqued.

"But first he applied for Defence Against the Arts post," he said slowly, watching for reactions from Hermione, Ron and me.

I leaned forwards, "It sort of makes sense – he felt at home here, didn't he?"

Harry nodded, I knew he was ashamed to feel the same way. Hogwarts was considered a safe haven for the two of us, "So in Borgin and Burke's Tom's job was to persuade people to part with their treasures for sale by the partners. So we went into the memory of a House Elf called Hokey, who worked for an old witch called Hepzibah Smith."

Harry told us all about Hepzibah Smith – a rich old lady, with plenty of collectables who put on her pink dress and rouged her cheeks for Tom coming to visit. He seemed proficient in the art of careful flattery, bringing her flowers and she had cakes ready for him to eat. On that particular occasion, Tom had been asked by Burke to offer Hepzibah five-hundred Galleons for her goblin-made armour. But she deflected from his business-like approach, showing Tom her most prized possession –

"You'll never guess what it was?" Harry questioned, wishing to be humoured.

Hermione placed her hands in her hair, as though searching the curly strands for answers.

"No idea." I said, shrugging my shoulders, "A solid gold statue with the crest of some famous wizarding family, if you tell me it's my family's I'll -?" I said wildly.

Harry shook his head, "Guess again."

"A pot of Merlin's toe clippings?"

"Ew, Ronald, that's disgusting." Hermione grimaced.

Harry laughed, "Kathryn was closer."

Hermione scrambled for anything viable, "A statue of -"

"Helga Hufflepuff's golden cup." Harry interrupted, "Apparently she was distantly descended from the Hufflepuff's. And d'you know what else she had that she'd bought from Borgin and Burke's? Think about Merope."

"Slytherin's locket?" I asked in wonder.

Harry nodded, "And Tom's eyes had a red gleam like they are permanently now."

"Creepy red snake-like slits." My body gave an involuntary shake at the thought of is eyes pouring into mine, trying to invade my mind, my memories, my privacy.

"Two days later Hepzibah Smith was found dead. Hokey the House Elf was convicted by the Ministry of poisoning her mistress's evening cocoa by accident."

Hermione let out a heartfelt sob, "No… Did Hokey confess to it, like Morfin did about killing the Riddles?"

Harry nodded, "That's what Dumbledore thinks, too. Hokey remembered putting something in the cocoa which turned out not to be sugar, but having not meant to do it, but she was old and confused…"

"The poor thing…" Hermione looked as though she was trying to hold it together, "What happened to her? Do you know?"

"I don't know…" Harry said sympathetically, "But what we do know is that by the time Hepzibah's family worked out that the locket and cup were both gone, Tom had resigned his position in Borgin and Burkes and he wasn't seen for a very long time after that."

"B*stard." Ron said, flabbergasted.

Harry looked between the three of us as we took all the details in, "Dumbledore also pointed out the pattern of behaviour – Tom taking trophies in the Orphanage and then taking his trophies from Morfin and Hepzibah. He hopes that we'll understand the significance of him taking Hufflepuff's cup because of his deep connection to Hogwarts -"

"Do you think he still has them?" Hermione asked.

Harry once again shrugged his shoulders, "If they are as important to him as Dumbledore seems to think, then I'd say yes." he paused before saying, "Dumbledore also showed me one of his memories with Tom Riddle ten years later when he was made Headmaster…"

"Didn't Voldemort curse the DADA post when Dumbledore was Headmaster?" Hermione questioned.

Harry nodded, "He looked completely different, his skin was pale as snow, waxy and oddly distorted, his eyes were bloodshot, too. By that stage he wasn't going by Tom anymore and as Dumbledore refused to call him Voldemort, the feeling in the room changed."

Basically Voldemort asked for a teaching position again, having asked and being refused by Professor Dippet when he was eighteen. Dumbledore told him that he was sorry to believe half of the things he had done from leaving Hogwarts. He was annoyed at this, calling it 'greatness' that he has pushed the boundaries of magic, further than they had perhaps been pushed before. Dumbledore put him in his place by telling him that he was woefully ignorant of other types of magic.

"Voldemort then said," Harry told us, "The old argument, but nothing I have seen in the world had supported your famous pronouncement that love is more powerful than my kind of magic, Dumbledore."

I imagined the scene, a not-very-human looking Voldemort sneering, trying to hold in his rage, his irises reddening as Dumbledore replies, "Perhaps you have been looking in the wrong places."

"Voldemort then suggests starting his research in Hogwarts, sharing his knowledge with students, placing himself and his talents at Dumbledore's disposal, being his to command."

I snorted, "Yeah, somehow I think that's a bit of brown nosing?"

"Dumbledore thought so, too." Harry said, "He then asked about the people he commands – the Death Eaters – and what they'd do with Voldemort being at Hogwarts. He got even more agitated at that statement, too, calling the Death Eaters his 'friends'."

"Friends?" Hermione slammed her mug down a little harder than expected.

"Aye. Some friends." I scoffed, rolling my eyes, "He'd be commanding them from Hogwarts, he'd probably have education infiltrated – Dumbledore would've been sacked or murdered and we'd all be learning the Dark Arts, using the unforgivable curses for fun – we'd be Voldemort's Army and he'd have one of his pawns as Headmaster and another pawn as Minister for Magic. And I'd – actually let's not think about where I'd be, who I'd be…" I resigned myself back to silence again, a few moments passed, as we considered where we'd be and if we'd even be alive, never mind at Hogwarts.

Ron sat forwards, "They're more like servants than friends!"

"That's what Dumbledore said!" Harry nodded to Ron, "He mentioned the Death Eaters that were accompanying him in the Hog's Head by name. Voldemort wasn't amused at Dumbledore's omniscience, either… So Dumbledore asked him what he'd really came back to Hogwarts for, because it wasn't teaching."

"Oh wow." Hermione looked taken aback.

"Say it like it is, Dumble." I concurred sardonically, "I think it's fair to say he's maintained his sensitivity levels over the years."

Harry pursued his storytelling, "Dumbledore also confirmed on the spot that he wasn't going to give Voldemort the job and asked again what the purpose of his visit was. Voldemort looked very much like he'd love nothing more than to murder Dumbledore."

"Nothing's changed then?" Ron joked.

"Yeah, Voldemort considered duelling Dumbledore, but thought better of it and left. But the DADA job has been cursed ever since. That was the end of the memory… He said that I need to get this memory from Slughorn – it's the last piece of the puzzle to find out what Voldemort's real intentions were. So I need your help," he consulted the three of us, "How am I going to convince Slughorn to give me a memory he doesn't want to?"

The three of us looked at each other, stumped.

13th March

I was sitting in a cool, sterile-white office, nervously swinging my legs as I sat on the edge of the examination table. I received an owl during Muggle Studies, tapping on Professor Burbage's window, asking me to attend St Mungo's after class. My appointment was scheduled to begin twenty minutes ago and I was now beginning to wish I'd brought a book to read. The shelf above the desk was becoming increasingly tempting as I'd read every poster on the walls and every pamphlet in the very sparse stand.

"My apologies for my tardiness," Jensen said as soon as he walked through the door, pulling the light blue scrub cap off his head, dropping it into the bin, placing a white lab coat over his lime green robes, "It's been a particularly busy shift. I see you've been amusing yourself with my library." He noticed the book specialising in Paediatric Cardiothoracic Healing in my hand.

"Sorry." I snapped the book shut and immediately returned it to the space in the shelf.

He gave me a small smile, "That's quite alright," he said, summoning a huge pile of bound parchment, "I've been looking at your file… it's been seven weeks following your discharge from inpatient care and ten weeks since you woke from your coma."

I sat quietly as my Healer flicked through the pages, looking between his facial expressions and the mass of writing.

"You're very quiet today."

I glanced up at him, "I didn't think I'd have another appointment with you for another couple of weeks."

"I have a hectic schedule over the next two weeks and I wanted to review your case sooner rather than later." He stood, rubbing his hands together, "Do you mind popping up on the table and I'll check you over and take a sample of your blood for examination?"

"What are you looking for?" I asked as I lay down.

"Traces of poison, signs of residual infection, your blood count, general health," he said as he worked, "All looks well here, your internal organs appear to be in perfect condition. What about this arm of yours?"

I unwrapped the bandage slowly, revealing the light pink coloured scar, which he poked and prodded, testing my dexterity as well, "I haven't had any bother since the night Ron was – is something wrong?"

Jensen had stopped what he was doing, "No, no, nothing at all. Do you mind?" he indicated for me to give him my hand for him to prick my finger for the sample of blood, "You don't need to wear that bandage anymore." I felt a sharp nip on my forefinger and Jensen used his wand to direct the spot of blood into the air. He stared up at it, separating it into its separate components, looking at each in turn.

Several minutes passed before I built up the courage to ask, "Is everything okay?"

"Why don't you come over here and sit down?" he sat at the desk and wrote on a piece of parchment he took out of his drawer, "You see these numbers here? That's your current blood count, you can compare them to the scale."

"They're all normal?"

A smile appeared on his lips, "They are. It's time."

"Time to wean myself off my potions?"

"Time to wean yourself off your potions."

I beamed at him, "Are you being serious?"

"The numbers don't lie." He nodded, "You've worked incredibly hard, and over the next number of weeks, I'm going to slowly reduce your medications."

Twenty minutes later I was back in Hogwarts with Madam Pomfrey, handing her the letter attached to my new prescription. She seemed uneasy at the idea of reducing my potion dosages so soon, stating that I was being weaned off rather quickly.

"The numbers don't lie." She said, still sounding unconvinced, "Okay then. Here you go." She prepared my evening medications for me, "See you in the morning. Any issues, you know where to find me."

16th March

"You won't find anything in there," Hermione said firmly this evening after watching Harry desperately pour over the Prince's notes to find an answer to his main objective: getting that memory.

"Don't start, Hermione," Harry said, "If it hadn't been for the Prince, Ron wouldn't be sitting here now."

"He would if you'd just listened to Snape in our first year." Hermione said dismissively.

Harry ignored her. Ron and I shared a glance before staring back into the fire again, deep in thought, "So are you excited for your Apparition test, now that you've had time to calm down?"

"Excited?" Ron looked panicked, setting down his quill having been reading over his essay for Snape, "At least you've managed to do it!"

"I'll take that as a 'no', then?" I said, "I only apparated for the first time yesterday, I have no idea how! Besides, we've until the 21st April to figure it out."

"I'm telling you, the stupid Prince isn't going to be able to help you with this, Harry!" Hermione spoke louder this time, "There's only one way to force someone to do what you want, and that's the Imperius Curse, which is illegal -"

Harry looked up from the book long enough to glare at her before resuming his attention back to the scribbled notes in the margins, "Yeah, I know, thanks. That's why I'm looking for something different. Dumbledore says Veritaserum won't do it, but there might be something else, a potion or a spell…"

"You're going about it the wrong way," Hermione said impatiently, and I resumed looking at my Muggle Studies textbook, having scored out a poorly worded sentence on my essay plan, "Only you can get the memory, Dumbledore says. That must mean you can persuade Slughorn where other people can't. It's not a question of slipping him a potion, anyone could do that -"

"How d'you spell 'belligerent'?" Ron asked me loudly, shaking his quill very hard whilst staring at his parchment, "It can't be B – U – M…"

I reached over to have a look, but Hermione got there first, "No, it isn't," she said, pulling the essay towards herself, "And 'augury' doesn't begin O – R – G either. What kind of quill are you using?"

"It's one of Fred and George's spell-checking ones… but I think the charm must be wearing off…"

"I'll get them to send another one, if you like?" I asked, "Or I'll get them to put the charm on this one again and they'll probably do it for free?"

Ron nodded with a smile, handing the quill over.

Hermione snorted, "Yes, it must, because I believe the essay was on 'Dementors' not 'Dugbogs' and I don't remember you changing your name to 'Roonil Wazlib', either."

"Ah, no!" Ron stared, horror struck at the parchment, "Don't say I'll have to write the whole thing out again!"

"It's okay, we can fix it," Hermione took out her wand, taking the essay back again.

"I love you, Hermione." Ron said, sinking back into his chair again, rubbing his eyes wearily.

I sat perfectly still, daring only to move my eyes to look at Hermione, who had gone faintly pink before saying, "Don't let Lavender hear you say that."

"I won't," Ron said into his hands, "Or maybe I will… then she'll ditch me."

I sighed audibly.

"Why don't you ditch her if you want to finish it?" Harry asked.

"You haven't chucked anyone, have you?" said Ron, "You and Cho just -"

"Sort of fell apart, yeah." Harry said.

I looked up from my work and said, "I broke up with Oliver – you need to be direct – I remember him not accepting me 'needing space' and he didn't really know how to take 'no' for an answer, and we all know what happened there… "

"You never talk about him," Hermione said, "What actually happened?"

I felt mightily uncomfortable talking about it, but said, "I don't really know myself, I just know I was too young and it was doomed from the beginning. I should have – it's complicated – but I quickly realised that it was a bad idea and dumped him for being a prat, then that whole incident with the firewhiskey happened and – I'd rather forget about it, because I know deep down he's a good guy, circumstances and teenage hormones were not on his side and it was a mess and the last time I saw him I got angry and – Ron just pull off the plaster, quick and straight to the point. Trust me."

"That break-up was a mess." Harry said.

"Cheers, mate."

Ron leaned forwards, "Do you regret it?"

"Are you asking that as George's brother or as a friend?"

He shrugged his shoulders.

"I regret what happened and how out of control everything got, but I don't regret what I learnt as a result of it, because it ultimately came to George and me getting together and I wouldn't want to wish that away." I said, "It could've been handled better, but I didn't know how, I was a third year going out with a seventh year. If I had a half-way decent mother, I doubt I'd have been so stupid. It was nice to be liked and I know that sounds pathetic, but that's how it was."

"Yeah, but look at how happy you and George are, now." Hermione smiled, "All you've been through has made you stronger."

"Aye and emotionally f*cked up."

Ron sniggered, "I think we could all do with a bit of therapy, you know, with everything."

"Agreed." Harry sighed.

Hermione handed Ron's edited essay back, "There."

"Thanks a million," he said, before turning to me, "Can I borrow your quill for the conclusion?"

"Oh yeah, here." I handed him my spare quill from my bag, "Night Seamus!" I called out in response to our friend, who, too, was cursing Snape's gruelling essay like Ron beside me.

Crack.

Hermione and I let out a little shriek; Ron spilled ink all over his essay and Harry said, "Kreacher!"

"Master said he wanted regular reports on what the Malfoy boy is doing so Kreacher has come to give -"

Crack.

Dobby appeared alongside Kreacher, his tea-cosy hat askew.

"Dobby has been helping, too, Harry Potter!" he squeaked, casting Kreacher a resentful look, "And Kreacher ought to tell Dobby when he is coming to see Harry Potter so they can make their reports together!"

"What is this?" Hermione asked, feeling as shocked as I was at their sudden appearance, "What's going on, Harry?"

"You didn't tell her?" I questioned, standing to get a better view of the two House Elves.

Harry's face dropped.

"Miss Bella?" Kreacher fell onto his knees, attempting to kiss my feet, "What are you doing here with Mudbloods and Blood Traitors alike?"

"Harry you need to forbid him to tell -" I said in a rising panic.

"Kreacher I forbid you to tell anyone that Kathryn is alive. Her relatives must never find out that she survived."

Kreacher froze on the spot, glaring at Harry before looking up at me, "Miss Bella's daughter?"

"You know about me?"

"Kreacher met Miss Katy when you was a baby," he spoke, his eyes wide, his attention devoted to me, "But Kreacher has been forbidden by Miss Bella and Miss Cissy to speak of you."

I glanced at Harry, who shrugged his shoulders as Kreacher appeared to worship the ground I stood upon, "Tell me about the time you met me." I asked as Harry explained the situation to Hermione. I overheard Dobby saying that he hadn't slept and Hermione wasn't best amused.

"Kreacher only met you once when you was visiting my mistress -" he told me gladly.

"Bellatrix's Aunt Walburga?"

Kreacher bowed again, "Miss Bella and Miss Cissy was both very sad. Miss Cissy had Master Malfoy and he was a new baby."

"Do you know what they talked about?"

"No, Miss Katy, I was forbidden to listen."

I nodded, disappointed.

"Dobby you can sleep, alright?" Harry said quickly, "But has either of you found out anything?"

"Master Malfoy moves with a nobility that befits his pure blood," Kreacher croaked at once, "His features recall the fine bones of my mistress and his manners are those of -"

"Draco Malfoy is a bad boy!" squeaked Dobby angrily, "A bad boy who – who -"

He shuddered from the tassel of his tea cosy to the toes of his socks and then ran at the fire, as though about to dive into it; Harry caught him around the middle and held him tight. Dobby struggled for a few seconds before going limp.

"Thank you, Harry Potter," Dobby panted, "Dobby still finds it difficult to speak ill of his old masters…" Harry then released the House Elf and Dobby turned defiantly to Kreacher and said, "But Kreacher should know that Draco Malfoy is not a good master to a house elf!"

"Yeah, we don't need to hear about you being in love with Malfoy," Harry told Kreacher, "Let's fast forward to where he's actually been going."

Kreacher bowed again, looking furious, the happiness he had around me was now gone, "Master Malfoy eats in the Great Hall, he sleeps in the dormitory in the dungeons, he attends his classes in a variety of -"

"Dobby, you tell me," Harry cut across Kreacher, "Has he been going anywhere he shouldn't have?"

"Harry Potter, sir," squeaked Dobby, his great orb-like eyes shining in the firelight, "the Malfoy boy is breaking no rules that Dobby can discover, but he is still keen to avoid detection. He has been making regular visits to the seventh floor with a variety of other students, who keep watch for him while he enters -"

"The Room of Requirement!" Harry smacked himself across the head with Advanced Potion-Making, "That's where he's been sneaking off to! That's where he's going… whatever he's doing! And I bet that's why he's been disappearing off the map – come to think of it, I've never seen the Room of Requirement on there!"

"Maybe the Marauders never knew it was there." Ron suggested.

Hermione added, "Maybe it's just the magic of the Room, if you need it to be unplottable, it will be."

"Dobby, have you managed to get in to have a look at what Malfoy's doing?" Harry asked eagerly.

Dobby shook his head, "No Harry Potter, that is impossible."

"No, it's not," Harry said at once, "Malfoy got into our Headquarters last year, so I'll be able to get in and spy on him, no problem."

"But I don't think you will, Harry," Hermione said slowly, "Malfoy already knew exactly how we were using the Room, didn't he, because that stupid girl Marietta had blabbed. He needed the Room to become the Headquarters of the DA, so it did. But you don't know what the Room becomes when Malfoy goes in there, so you don't know what to ask it to transform it into."

"There'll be a way around that," Harry said dismissively, daring to look at me for a second.

I stood there with my arms folded, "I doubt he'll tell me anything now, just like he didn't tell me anything before."

"You've done brilliantly, Dobby." Harry said.

"Kreacher's done well, too," Hermione spoke kindly, but far from looking grateful, Kreacher averted his huge, bloodshot eyes and croaked at the ceiling, "The Mudblood is speaking to Kreacher, Kreacher will pretend he cannot hear -"

"Get out of it." Harry snapped at him.

Kreacher gave Harry and me a bow each and his disapparated.

"You'd better go get some sleep, too, Dobby."

"Thank you, Harry Potter, sir!" Dobby squeaked happily, and he, too, vanished.

I flung myself into the sofa in front of the fire and let out a sigh. I knew I couldn't confront Draco, because I couldn't risk losing his trust, but I also knew that Harry wasn't going to let this go any time soon.

"How good is this?" Harry was enthusiastic to say the least, "We know where Malfoy's going! We've got him cornered, now!"

"Yeah, it's great," Ron said glumly as Hermione syphoned off the ink from his essay.

Hermione asked, "But what's all this about him going up there with a variety of students?"

"Yeah, didn't you say you saw him with two girls before the Quidditch match?" I questioned.

"How many people are in on it? You wouldn't think he'd trust lots of them to know what he's doing. I'm sure he'd trust Kathryn before younger students?" Hermione continued.

My heart soared at the thought of Draco confiding in me, but my heart dropped at the next thought: how could I help him if he's doing something wrong? Is it bad that I miss him and his company?

Harry nodded, "Yeah, that is weird… I heard him telling Crabbe that it wasn't Crabbe's business what he was doing… so what's he telling all these… all these…" he stared into the fire, "I've been stupid," he spoke quietly, "It's obvious, isn't it? There was a great vat of it down in the dungeon… he could've nicked some any time during that lesson."

"Nicked what?" Ron and I questioned simultaneously.

"Polyjuice Potion. He stole come of the Polyjuice Potion Slughorn showed us in our first Potions lesson. There aren't a whole variety of students standing guard for Malfoy… it's just Crabbe and Goyle as usual… yeah, it all fits!" Harry started pacing back and forth in front of the fire, "They're stupid enough to do what they're told even if he won't tell them what he's up to… but he doesn't want them to be seen lurking outside the Room of Requirement, so he's got them taking Polyjuice Potion to make them look like other people… those two girls I saw with him when he missed Quidditch… ha! Crabbe and Goyle!"

"Do you mean to say." Hermione said in a hushed voice, "that little girl whose scales I repaired -?"

Harry nodded enthusiastically, "Of course! Malfoy must've been inside the Room at the time, so she – what am I talking about – he dropped the scales to tell Malfoy not to come out, because there was someone there! And there was the girl who dropped the toad-spawn, too! We've been walking past him all the time and not realising it."

I let out a breath of surprise, "I can't believe I've missed all this."

"He's got Crabbe and Goyle transforming into girls?" guffawed Ron, "Blimey! No wonder they don't look too happy these days… I'm surprised they don't tell him to stuff it."

"Not if he's showed them his Dark Mark." I said, hiding my left arm awkwardly, "He's doing this for Voldemort, Crabbe and Goyle know better than to mess with the Dark Lord's will."

Hermione stood, stretching, "The Dark Mark, to my best knowledge, you are yet to see, Kathryn. And Harry, before you get overexcited about this, I don't think you'll be able to get into the Room of Requirement until you know what's there first. And I don't think you should forget," she said bossily, "that you're supposed to be concentrating on getting that memory from Slughorn. Goodnight." She gave me a jerk of the head towards the stairs to the girls' dormitory before leaving me to it.

I stood slowly, "She's right…" I admitted, "You should definitely be focusing on Slughorn. Night boys."

I went to bed thinking not about the snores coming from Lavender Brown's bed, but of Draco Malfoy. His face consumed my mind, appearing every time I closed my eyes. He was trying to tell me something, but I couldn't hear. We were blocked from getting to each other by an invisible barrier. He was desperate for me to understand, to help him, his eyes pleading with mine as his fists pounded on the divide. I watched as his skin got paler and paler, his face got thinner, I watched the light disappear from his grey eyes with a flash of green.

17th March

This morning was a sleepy one, which wasn't helped by Harry's persistence to pursue Draco Malfoy. Hermione wasn't in the mood either, making that abundantly clear as I sat at the table beside her at breakfast. I kept my mouth shut, reaching for the spoon for the scrambled eggs and serving myself and Ron, whose plate was nearly empty.

"Look," Harry said quietly, leaning forwards and putting a hand onto the Daily Prophet she had just removed from a post owl, to stop her from hiding behind it, "I haven't forgotten about Slughorn, but I haven't got a clue how to get that memory off him, and until I get a brainwave why shouldn't I find out what Malfoy's doing?"

"I've already told you, you need to persuade Slughorn," Hermione said, "It's not a question of tricking him or bewitching him, or Dumbledore could have done it in a second. Instead of messing around outside the Room of Requirement," she jerked the Prophet out from under Harry's hand and unfolded it to look at the front page, "you should go and find Slughorn and start appealing to his better nature."

"Anyone we know -?" Ron asked as Hermione scanned the headlines.

The three of us looked at her expectantly.

"Yes!" she exclaimed, causing us to all choke on our breakfasts, "but it's all right, he's not dead – it's Mundungus, he's been arrested and sent to Azkaban! Something about attempting to impersonate an Inferius during an attempted burglary."

I scoffed.

"… and someone called Octavius Pepper has vanished … oh, how horrible, a nine-year old boy has been arrested for trying to kill his grandparents, they think he was under the Imperius Curse."

Safe to say we spent the rest of breakfast in silence. Before the first bell, Harry and Ron headed up to the Common Room, Hermione went up to Runes and I headed to Muggle Studies to finish off my French Revolution essay. The topic this week was how the Royal Family attempted to flee on 20th June 1791 but were caught at Verannes and sent back to Paris where the King (Louis XVI) was forced to go on trial and was eventually executed by guillotine on 21st January 1793. It seems like history continually repeats itself… The human race is mightily flawed.

By the time Alchemy came around this afternoon, I felt mightily out of sorts. I sat down to work on this week's solitary project – looking at the work surrounding alchemists' belief that metals are not unique substances, but rather the same, but on different stages of development or refinement on their way to becoming gold. The whole thing seemed a little far-fetched for me, but it was work from very early on in existence, and without those studies we wouldn't know what we do today surrounding the Periodic Table.

"You're very quiet," Theodore Nott whispered across the library table, "Not going to offend anyone with your charm today?"

"Frig away off." I said simply, shaking my head at him with a very unamused expression before returning back to my work.

"I was hoping you'd brainstorm -"

Draco snorted, "You really should know not to cross her, or do you have a death wish?"

There was a short pause, during which time the cogs in Theodore Nott's brain got stuck, "So -"

"Trust today to be the day you become interested or at least semi-perceptive of a woman's feelings, Theo," I glared at him, "here's your next lesson, when I tell you to frig away off, that means piss off, leave me alone, I don't want to be bothered by you right now, comprendez?"

"Wha -?"

I rolled my eyes and I sighed deeply, returning back to my work.

"Leave her alone, Nott." Draco snapped as Theo dared to open his mouth again.

An hour later when the bell rang and we packed up to go to Potions together, Draco stayed behind with me as I signed books out with Madam Pince.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah – sorry about earlier, I had a rough night last night." I watched as his face filled with concern, "I'm okay, I just need an early night."

He considered placing a hand on my arm and thought better of it, seeing which arm he'd be touching, "How's your -"

I held up my hand and wiggled my fingers, flexing them as we walked towards potions together, "Couldn't do that at the beginning of the year."

"Show off." He joked, a small smile forming on his face, "Treatment?"

"Ongoing." I nodded, "They've started reducing all the medications. I'm hopeful I'll make a full recovery: ready to punch someone in the face if necessary." I joked in return, "How are you? I feel like we haven't talked in a while…" I felt this longing in my chest, this need to tell him, "I miss you."

His grey eyes met mine, "I miss you too."

I reached over and gave his hand a gentle squeeze as we walked down the dungeons corridor. His hand lingered longer than I thought, when he seemingly reluctantly let go on sight of Pansy Parkinson's red-faced glare which didn't leave me until Draco sat down next to her.

"What was that all about?"

I shook my head, "I don't know…" But I couldn't get the image of Pansy playing with his hair out of my mind. Not only that, but he sat throughout class withdrawn as we took notes, "Leave it with me."