Scala ad Caelum

by GRND

Ages ago, a wizard known as Herpo the Foul defied Death and doomed the world and those who were yet to be born. His ambition was put to an end, yet briefly, for the events of the past are bound to happen again as the ages come and go. It is in the present age, as Voldemort's reign of terror is deemed as over, that the Wizarding World would understand the story had yet to finish.

55. Chapter 52 - A spark of hope

Hello there, again!

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The Nighteyes Corps were founded in the nineteenth century, though not with such a name, and much less to serve the same purpose as they do now. At first, the unit was founded to cover the needs due to the increasing population of Magical Australia, as many people saw an opportunity in the great island. Some came to found and prosper their business in a growing economy. Others in search of a peaceful place to settle their households and families. Good folk, most of them. But, of course, there were others of not-so kind nature.

The criminality grew exponentially within the first twenty years, to a point in which the Aurors were overwhelmed. Here, a wizard named Mikkail Haywood, an experienced and renowned Auror, was put in charge of this newly-founded unit. For a time, this investment in the field of public safety was a most successful one. But also an offence the criminal groups took to heart. So, they set aside their differences and created a united front against the Ministry.

Murders were committed, kidnappings were carried out, and dread was spread from one end of the country to the other. For a time, to wear blue and black meant a death wish. No one dared to stand against these criminals, not even the politicians, whom most came to accept bribes in exchange of their passiveness. Regardless, none of this seemed to stop Haywood, whose determination and courage knew no limits. He lost friends, comrades and even family. He acted outside the Law. And he paid the price in blood, at last. But his death meant change, as he became the martyr the country needed. The common-folk revolted against their politicians, getting rid of those who had sold their souls for money. A new batch of politicians seized power, and they were able to unite the country against criminality.

It was said their leader fell one night, dark and moonless as none other. It was said this bunch of brave Aurors fell over them as hawks, and their eyes gleamed crimson in the blackness of the night. It was said their fury guided them that night.

So the legend was borne among folk. So the Nighteyes came to exist.

---

Chapter 52 - A spark of hope

Ron stood impassively in front of such a sorry sight, almost deaf to all those cries and whimpers.

All in truth, it was a wonder it had not come to this way earlier. Since her first day at Hogwarts, Umbridge had made it known that her objective was to make the School great again. What she considered great, at least. To sack all those Professors of questionable nature who happened to support Dumbledore; to recruit a bunch of ambitious fools and to give them power and a name, that of the Disciplinary Party; to raise and seize power by the Minister's hand.

And through all of that had Sybil Trelawney survived until today.

Dawn had arrived as per usual, its bright embrace melting the last remains of frost of the year. And the day had started like any other for Ron, with a warm and delicious breakfast in a silent and almost empty Hall. His mind had wandered about countless topics as per usual as he paid no mind to his surroundings. About Umbridge and how to stop her; about Voldemort and all the mysteries behind him; about his stance at Nurgon, where he'd come to be aware of how many things he needed to improve.

And it had been Tracey, as they made their way out of the Hall with their bellies full of food, who had taken notice of the arising trouble.

"Look there," she pointed with her chin. "Why's everyone heading outside?"

For a moment they halted and stood like fools amidst the current of students who made their way outside. Then he caught sight of a very familiar flash of red. "Ginny! What's going on?"

Ginny was shoved into them, and her fight through the crowd came to an end. She was about to open her mouth, but another one beat her to it. "Trelawney is getting sacked!" Alaine answered loudly, piercing through the crowd as if wind through a hole. "Or so people say. They also say that Umbridge woke up furious today, like a frenzied beast. And I wonder, doesn't that happen every day?"

Ron and Tracey shared a quick glance, then he threaded their way through the sea of students with ease. Some, those whom he shoved aside, sent him foul looks, yet refrained themselves from further action. There were a bunch of first-years who stuck to their tails as he opened the way for them. Finally he stepped outside, into Godric's Courtyard. There, both the sun and the cool wind greeted him enthusiastically, and for a moment warmth and cold had a fight of their own in which none rose victorious.

It took him a mighty effort to slither his way into the first row, but he arrived just in time, it seemed.

Trelawney stood alone, face red and damped by tears, all her belongings trailing behind. Her trembling hand managed to raise a handkerchief up to her nose, then sniffed loudly into it. "Please," she begged hoarsely, "you cannot do this to me. I've been here for fourteen years… Hogwarts is the only home I know… I left it all behind for this… I-I will change my methods, I promise! But please… Don't make me leave my home…"

The stillness of the crowd surprised Ron a bit. No one dared to utter a word there, despite the morbidity of the situation. It had drawn them all as if bees to honey, but that was as far as it went. Trelawney was not the first Professor to get fired this year, nor the most beloved of them. However, the other two had happened in silence, in the shadow's secrecy, and all they had known of them was the aftermath. Today they witnessed such a cruel spectacle. Not even the few members of the Disciplinary Party among the many nameless students had the nerve to do a thing but staring.

Yet those cries did little to Umbridge, who stood emotionless in front of the Professor, hands crossed over her belly. "I'm afraid I cannot do that, my dear Sibyl," she said. "I've already got another person for the job, you see, and he is also to take over your chambers. I sincerely thank you for your work here through the years, and also for your devotion to the subject of Divination. However, your methods are utter rubbish. They've no place in the School I want to build."

Ron could but grimace to such a comment—a woman cruel and rude as no other, indeed.

Still, someone was able to break through the Courtyard's stillness; a woman brave enough to face the very Headmistress. Minerva McGonagall strode out of the castle and the crowd parted ways for her to step through them. Her arrival was preceded by a choir of whispers, let it be confused, nervous or even scared. And not without a reason, for Ron had seen storms way more peaceful than that which her eyes showed.

"Oh shit," Alaine mused. "She's gonna eat that toad alive." For a moment Ron saw hope in her eyes. Which he wanted to share, of course. But he had come to learn to never bet against Umbridge.

First, McGonagall took care of Trelawney, embracing her colleague and whispering soft words into her ear. Then she glanced at Umbridge. "Is this really necessary?" she hissed. "To put on such a show and humiliate Sibyl in front of her students? To send her away when there are countless chambers which can be used?"

"It is, Minerva." Somehow she managed to remain calm against such a tempest. "First, this was not intended. She just happened to be too loud in her cries, and so, people gathered around. Now, in regards to the second matter, yes, I am aware there are many chambers without use in the castle. However, a person costs the School money; food, basic needs and leisure among many other expenses. We are in no position to waste such an amount of money when there's no need. More so in such times of need."

Her points were solid, Ron reckoned with a bit of shame. And it wasn't he alone who shared such an opinion, for many heads had nodded to those words whether they've wanted to or not. On top of that, it was no secret that Trelawney was a fraud. Unlike the previous sackings, this one made sense.

"There's not much to see here," Ron sighed then, about to fight his way out of the crowd. But his eyes stuck glued to the confrontation, as did everyone else's. Perhaps if Dumbeldore were here, he could've put an end to this sombre spectacle. Then he remembered he had lost, too.

"Is there anything you wish to say?" Umbridge asked then, a smirk ever-present on her round face.

"There are several things," McGonagall replied coldly. Yet no further word came out of her mouth.

"Good. Keep them for yourself, if so." That said, Umbridge left and walked into the castle. The crowd opened a way for her, of course, and their whispers ceased just to come back stronger once she became a shadow in the distance.

On her behalf, McGonagall did not have eyes for anything but Trelawney. From his spot, Ron could not hear the words mused between them. But he saw the way Trelawney was escorted out of the School by her colleague. How her eyes could not raise from the ground and how her cries shook her body from tip to toes.

And he felt a faint wave of rage and shame then. And a far larger one of resignation.

"How can someone be so cruel?" Alaine mused once the crowd became much thinner. "She enjoys the suffering of those she doesn't like."

Ginny could but nod to those words, though a certain shadow lingered in her eyes. And so did in Ron's, though fainter. This was a cruel world, that he knew, and Umbridge was not the worst one could find. That thought alone helped him to drag Umbridge and Trelawney out of his mind.

There were far more pressing matters he needed to deal with.

---

Hermione let out a tired sigh as she stirred the cauldron. It was a thick liquid of a deep, green colour, and the large, wooden spoon had to fight its way through it.

She then took a moment to breathe fresh air and to roll up the sleeves of her sweater. Winter it might be, yet the potion's steam was enough to turn her into a sweaty mess. And such problems were shared by Neville, who sat by her side. The boy cut a large stick of elfroot into smaller pieces. Her eyes could but linger on those pieces. He'd tried his best, but few were of similar size.

Hermione was sure most of those mistakes had been caused by Snape, whose mere presence was enough to make Neville's hands tremble. And the Professor had visited their table quite a few times, as per usual. It didn't matter the fact Harry wasn't his partner anymore, it seemed. Not even her brains and skills were enough to fight away the Professor's prejudices.

"Elfroot, now," Hermione commanded as she pulled the spoon out of the cauldron. "Timing is of the essence here." And so, she poured all the ingredients into the cauldron, and the bitter steam which rose from it told her this was a good work. It would be good enough to gain Snape's approbation, at least.

Class ended an hour later, and she welcomed the cold of the dungeons with open arms. In the end, Snape had frowned upon their work, but had said nothing. Which could be translated into a flawless work.

"If there's someone who'll never have to worry about Umbridge, that's Snape," Harry grunted once they were about to exit the dungeons. "She's a demon, but Snape is worse."

"Do you reckon he'll apply for the Defence position next year?" Neville wondered aloud, then he shuddered. "Dear Merlin, I don't know what's worse. I think I'd rather have him stick to Potions. Better the devil you know than that you don't, or so they say…"

In the afternoon came a class of Defence. An incredibly boring one to add to the list. It brought her back to the times of Quirrell and Lockhart, and that greatly infuriated her. More so because she knew Faith Gourcuff was a very cacaple witch. Not only due to her successful resume, but also because of how she spoke of the matter.

"She looks bored," Harry pointed out as the Professor answered one of Padma's questions. "And rather irascible today."

Hermione had noted that, too. Mainly because of the few times her eyes had fallen upon them, dark and cold, yet also with a strange glint. And it wasn't once or twice, but several. And not to them alone, but to each and every student.

Once more they all got lost into the monotonous life of Hogwarts. Swarmed by an absurd amount of homework and lectures and studying. Harry, also busy with his Quidditch training. Ron, who spent far too much time on his own training in the Forest. And she, still trying to come up with a way to not only defeat Umbridge, but also to help those house-elves which were in need of saving. At times she wondered if Neville and Tracey were the only ones who still thought Umbridge's seat of power could be crumbled. Whose faith stood set in stone.

A week had gone by since Trelawney's sacking, and it had become just another story to put past them. No replacement had been found yet, regardless of Umbridge's words, and it did not seem as if she was in a rush. Perhaps she didn't have much faith in Divination either, Hermione wondered.

"I get shivers each time we walk into the Forest," Tracey said then. "I cannot forget what happened to Buckbeak. How easy it was for Macnair to execute him in front of us all…"

"That's good," Ron nodded firmly, "you mustn't forget. We all must carve that moment into our memories, because that bastard needs to be held accountable for his actions. And it seems that it's only us who care."

That wasn't true, which he seemed to know very well, but still she said nothing to correct him. Frustration could do that to one, even to someone as clever as Ron was.

They held a meeting in a secret chamber of the fifth level, one long forgotten and abandoned. It was ample and not so cold, much to their surprise. A large window shed light and warmth upon them, just as it showed great views to the Ravenclaw Tower. No piece of furniture was there to fill the space, save the pillows and blankets they'd brought from their respective common rooms.

It lay buried under the statue of a pegasus, its open wings so large and majestic one would never notice there was a little button right under the left hoof. To access the room, one needed to press the said button five times, then halt, then two.

Another of the castle's wonders. One revealed to them by the Marauder's Map. If such a wonderful thing had been in the twins' pocket for years, Hermione could now understand how well they seemed to know the castle and all the secrets it hid.

"Has Professor Gourcuff sent any of you weird glances during her lectures?" Hermione asked to change the topic. Buckbeak's death was a memory which still visited her nights regularly. She needn't carve it into her mind more than it already was.

"Say again?" Tracey blinked.

"Well, recently she's started to eye us from time to time, out of nowhere," the girl explained. "Not anyone in particular, but to all of us, Gryffindors. Though it was so subtle that I doubt anyone else noticed. Honestly, I just did it because lately I've become a nervous mess. It must be due to the school's stress. And because of Umbridge, too."

"I don't think so," Ron said as he stood up. "I would have noticed if so, or so I believe. With us, she's just a bored teacher who doesn't seem to like teaching. And I understand her. With such a resume, to be ordered around like a simple apprentice must be tough, if not humiliating. She clearly knows far more about Defence and Dark Arts than whoever stupid, asslicker designed the Ministry's program for the subject."

"Do you think she's onto us?" Neville asked. "I mean, it was Umbridge who recruited her. For all we know, she could be one of her spies."

"Perhaps," Harry sighed, "but I don't think so. I have no foundation to back up this, just a gut of mine."

"I agree," Ron nodded, then he stretched like a cat. "Well, I guess it's time to leave. For me, at least. It ain't that I don't appreciate your company, of course, but the fact that, once again, we've failed to come up with a plan to hurt Umbridge in any way. I've better things to do."

"Your tournament is in a month, right?" Tracey cut in from her spot close to the window, where a weak ray of sun did its best to light her face.

Ron gave her a nod in response. "Second weekend. Thursday to Sunday, actually."

"Then, it's the same as our Quidditch camp," Harry added thoughtfully. "Funny, isn't it?

Hermione sent him a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"

Harry leaned back into the wall with a bitter smile on his face. "Here we are, trying to come up with a way to hurt Umbridge and to destroy her seat of power, yet, in less than a month, Ron will travel to America and Tracey and I to Denmark, so we can follow our dreams, so we can represent Hogwarts at the highest level and do her a favour while at it."

"We've already had this conversation quite a few times," Neville sighed.

"I know, I know," Harry shrugged the matter away, though his annoyed mood persisted. "I'm not gonna drop the camp just to spite her, for much I'd love to. I will not allow her to…"

"To make me drop my dreams," Ron completed with a roll of his eyes. "We know, Neville. You don't need to remind us each day." A slightly tense silence made an act of presence. Only Ron seemed to not notice it. Or to not care. "Well, like I said, it's time to go. I'll see you guys around, I guess."

He took up the stairs and left. The noise of his footsteps soon became just another whisper in the hallways. For a minute, no one uttered a word, each lost in their own mind. Harry left next, arguing that he fancied a fly to clear his mind. So only three remained, and they wore the silence like a heavy robe on a summer day.

Finally, it was Neville who broke the silence. "What do you think about Trelawney's sacking, Hermione? It's been a week since it happened, and we've barely shared a word about it."

"For as much I try, I just cannot care about her the same way I did with Hagrid and Lupin," Hermione admitted with a bit of shame. "It might speak ill of me, but I don't care. She was a fraud, and her lectures were a waste of time. In fact, more than once I've thought of dropping the subject. But that would be the easy way out. To admit defeat and prove all those bigots right."

"How's the elves thing going?" the boy asked next.

"Even worse," Hermione sighed. "The concept of them being nothing but slaves is deeply rooted within the Wizarding World. If I ask a pureblood about it, let it be a Gryffindor or a Slytherin, they look at me as if I had grown a third arm. It's their nature, they've told me. Same goes to those half-bloods who grew up in the Wizarding World, and even to those who did not."

"And the muggle-borns?" Tracey cut in.

"Most of them, they just don't care." There had been one student, a sixth-year from Hufflepuff, who had told her such was the way of life and nature—big ate small, in his words. "And what do you think about the elves, Tracey? I've never asked you. And your opinion is one of great value, as you are a half-blood who's lived like a pureblood since he was born."

She looked very uncomfortable suddenly. "Well, it's a rather complex matter, honestly. At home, we've always made use of domestic-elves. There's Rayad, who helps my father with his business and sees that all goes well within the household. There's Isis, who's been my personal elf since I was an infant; and my friend, too. And lastly there's Spooky, Darren's. We treat them very well, of course, but still they work as any other elf would. At first, my mother was against their use, I think, but she changed her mind as soon as she saw how useful they were. And how great they were treated and how happy they felt being useful, that's it."

Hermione was about to voice out her thoughts, but her friend did not allow her the chance. "Of course, they are very well treated and loved. Not slaves, never. Servants would be a better word."

"So, slaves in all but name," the Gryffindor pointed out sourly. Tracey blushed and avoided her eyes. Deeply rooted, indeed. However, she was wise enough to not go further into the matter. Perhaps because of Neville's pleading eyes. Maybe due to the voice inside her which screamed to think twice before speaking.

To Hermione, her friends had become a most precious treasure. Even more than magic. She would not make a dent in their relationships just because of her stubbornness and lack of touch; as Ron once referred to it. So she stood up and bid them farewell, arguing that the pile of essays which awaited in the common room would not be written themselves.

The matter of the elves felt like a heavy burden upon her shoulders; one she could not shrug away for much she tried. I will, as soon as I come up with a way to help them. To make people understand they deserve better. Hermione was so lost in her thoughts she barely paid attention to her surroundings.

About to hop in a moving staircase which would take her to the upper level, a hateful voice startled her. "And where are you going, Miss? So alone in such lonely corridors? You are a long way from your Tower, little cub."

Hermione turned around, though she had no need. There awaited none other than Gertrude Meads, her long, fiery mane cascading all over her shoulders. The golden badge of the Party, a hammer upon a table, shone in her breast. To her sides walked two students whose names she did not know. A tall, brown-skinned Hufflepuff to her left. A short, dark-haired Ravenclaw to her right.

By her sides, yes, but always a few steps behind. To show who was in charge to anyone who might still doubt it.

"I was taking a stroll through the castle to clear my mind a bit," Hermione said. Though her tongue now felt rough and heavy. And she could but hope for her face to not sweat and her hands to not tremble. Lying was an art she was not familiar with, indeed. "There's so much homework and so little time in a day, you know? Honestly, I've just wandered thoughtlessly for an hour or so. I was making my way back to the common room."

"Thoughtlessly, indeed!" Gertrude snickered. And so did her two companions a tad later. Though not so gracefully, of course, as she made mocking an art. "Your nose is gonna grow if you keep lying like that, little cub! Well, who cares? It won't make you uglier than you already are, that's for sure. Though it would make quite a legendary pair with those teeth of yours. Now, you better spill the beans before I lose my temper here. Say, what are you and your little gang of misfits up to?"

"S-Say again?" Hermione tried to ignore those petty insults. She knew she was above them, that they meant nothing. But still they hurt.

"Come on, girlie, don't you dare to cry on me!" the Prefect groaned. "Once a week, you and your friends come here, into these deserted hallways where no one might see you. Then you disappear out of thin air, just to come back an hour or so later. Each damn week! Quite suspicious, don't you think so?"

"I've seen you," the Hufflepuff nodded, looking proud of himself. "For the past three weeks, you've come here every Sunday."

"See?" Gertrude sent the taller boy a bright smile, just as her hand caressed his arm softly. He seemed to grow another inch. "Now, talk."

"I was just… I was just…" She was done. No word seemed to come to her, much less a bunch of them which could become a decent excuse.

"She's here on my behalf." The voice came from behind, loud and firm. Hermione had never been so happy to see a Professor. Faith Gourcuff walked down the stairs with a steady stride, eyes set on the Party's members. The long skirt she wore seemed to dance to each step, so did her braided hair. "I wanted to prepare something special for our next class of Defence, and I made use of her since she's the best student of her promotion. Now, is there a problem with that?"

If glares could kill, it would be impossible to explain how Gertrude stood on her feet. But she did, tall and proud. Unlike her two lackeys, who gulped down their nerves as they took a few steps back.

"And this class of yours," Gertrude started, "would not happen to escape from the Ministry's guidebook, would it? Because I'm sure the Headmistress will find that very displeasing."

"Fear not, child," Professor Gourcuff smirked as she came to stand by Hermione's side. Her presence felt like that of a warm beacon, which filled the girl with a sense of safety. "Now, care to explain why there are tears in Granger's face? I would find it very displeasing if an older student was being mean and cruel to a girl three years younger. And a proper action of a coward, too."

Gertrude simply blinked at that. "She tripped and hit her shin with the stairs. Her whimpering brought us to her. That's all." Now, here was a girl who knew the art of lying.

Hermione almost felt a prang of envy toward her. Almost. And when the girl's eyes fell upon her, soft and warm out of a sudden, she could only follow her game. "Yes, that's what happened." The words came out of her mouth weakly. No one had believed them, she knew. But it was her word, willingly, and that was enough to put an end to the matter.

"Off you go, then," Faith Gourcuff sighed, waving the Party away. "Come on, I'm sure students like you have plenty to do in such times of the year. If not, I will be happy to provide you three with another essay about Nundus."

They took their leave instantly, going upstairs in silence. And the staircase decided to move as soon as those three hopped on it. As the Professor's eyes were set upon their retreating figures, Hermione used that moment to wipe out her tears with the back of her hand. Obviously she needed to sniff at that moment.

Still the Professor made no comment, instead she confronted the girl with a soft voice, "Why did you grant her such an easy way out? All you needed to do was to admit she's been bullying you. Then I would have acted as the situation deserved. Now I cannot do a thing."

"I wanted no problems with her," Hermione admitted weakly. "Meads is a powerful witch now that she's the head of the Party. This was the wisest move."

"The most spineless move," the Professor corrected firmly. "You need to stand up against the bullies, Granger. No, wait, forget that. You need to stand up against whichever you are afraid of. Otherwise, you will never be able to overcome such fears. Do you think any of your friends would have acted the way you did? That either Potter or Weasley would have allowed Meads to walk away like that? I don't believe so."

"I don't fear her."

"Oh, really? If so, why those tears and shakings? Must be a cold day!" Hermione lowered her head, and the Professor took a bit of pity on her. "Listen, I talk from experience here. I was just like you once, you know? There were many who envied me because of my brains, and even more who despised me because of my blood's lack of purity. But I proved them wrong when I learned nothing would ever change unless I grew the balls to stand up to them. So I did. Then they left me alone."

A soft hand fell over Hermione's shoulders. "Think about my words, please. When you do that, if you change your opinion, if you feel like taking a stance against those who see an easy target on you, come and visit me in my chambers. Its doors will always be open to a witch like you, Granger."

---

The moment the door closed after Hermione, Neville became aware of it once more.

For a minute or so silence reigned within the chamber; cold and oppressive. He tried to fidget with the end of his sleeves to divert his mind from such a thought, to think of anything else. But he could not, and his face must have shown his distress.

"What's the matter, Neville?" Tracey asked worriedly.

It took him a few seconds to gather his words. "Say, have you ever felt as if you were not enough? As if you did not belong at all?" His rambling was met with more silence. Though there was a change in Tracey's features. She was not worried anymore, but surprised.

"Say what?"

"Look at them, Tracey, for Merlin's sake." He couldn't hide it anymore, so it was time to get it out. All of it. Finally. "Harry, Hermione and Ron. No matter what, no matter against whom, they never surrender and always manage to move forward. No, wait, let me finish. I need to get this out. So, I've given this a thought lately. They are relentless, those three. They are special. Brave, talented and just. It was them three who were targeted by the Heir of Slytherin. Not you, and much less me. Why? Because that bastard knew they were dangerous."

Fortunately, Tracey remained silent and allowed him to continue his rant. "Then, in our first year, when something happened, it was me who ran to seek help, and it was them who stayed to fight. Ron and Harry, although reckless sometimes, they always stand up to that which is wrong. Hermione, she's started a venture to help the downtrodden, such as elves and werewolves, for much delusional her good will is. Then there's me, a boy whose only talents are plants and herbs."

And the last and most important part could but come out in a whisper, "I just feel out of place, you know?"

Again, Tracey remained silent. Then she stood up with a sigh and walked toward the boy. She fell by his side, the tip of their elbows faintly gracing one another "I know that feeling," she said sourly.

Neville perked up at that, "What, really?"

"Of course. I've felt so all my life, since I have a memory. It all started when I was an infant, you know? Because of my House's situation, I've always been around the pureblood bubble. On the edge, almost like an outcast yet still a part of it. There were people like Daphne and Malfoy, who gave a semblance of perfection. People like Parkinson, Bulstrode, Crabbe and Goyle, who knew very well what their role was. People like Blaise, strong enough to not care about the mocking whispers. People like Nott, whose strength alone granted them a position of privilege. Then there was me, the shy half-blood out of place."

"But that changed, right?"

"It changed, thanks to Ron," the Slytherin nodded. "Then it became a matter of four, and at last I felt that I belonged to a group. We had our fair share of ups and downs, of course; of differences and arguments, but also of laughs and smiles. But it changed yet again, and it became a matter of two. Ron and me, alone in Slytherin, where many still look down upon us. And each time I look at him, each time I see his resolve, that fire within his eyes for much colder he's turned, I feel like an outcast once more. Like a companion who must wait aside as his dear friend fights and suffers."

"And how do you deal with that?" Neville mused.

"Because, deep inside me, I know those thoughts are utter rubbish, no matter how loud they are some days," she gave him the hint of a mirthless smile. "I know it, with no hint of doubt, when he smiles at me. When that coldness of his disappears in those moments of peace we cherise so much; those jokes and laughs we share. When he's lost and I'm there to lend him a shoulder. When I don't allow him to give up, or when I help him to calm down after a moment of frustration. It was long ago when I understood that some people were never meant to be the main characters. But that's okay with me. All I care about is helping my friends. Because I fear solitude. It used to give me nightmares. But not now, here, surrounded by friends. Us five, Neville. We are a group. And sometimes a bit of glue is necessary to fill the cracks."

"So, we are glue, you and me?"

His comment managed to get a real smile out of Tracey. Which he now shared.

"We are glue, indeed, you and me. We ventured into the Forest, into a nest of Acromantulas, to save them. Were we scared that day? Hell yes! I almost shat and pissed my pants when Aragog talked to us. Yet I endured it all. For Harry, Hermione and Ron. For my friends. And so you did."

---

The third week of February fell upon them like a hammer. Windy days sieged Hogwarts for days, but they shoved away the thick clouds which had covered the castle for weeks. And so the Sun was finally able to brighten the sky, one blue and clear. That, too, helped to finally bid farewell to the cold.

And so, they all wore nothing but their academic robes in the greenhouses. "Valerian is a plant which grows best under sunlight," Professor Sprout explained. In her hands was clutched a cluster of plants with green leaves and white flowers. "In fact, this is why I've waited so long to show them to you. Their use is, mostly, for potions; advanced potions. Such as the Draught of the Living Death and the Draught of Peace."

As she talked, Hermione made her best to write down all of it in her notebook. She could but feel excited at the mention of such advanced potions. She'd read plenty about them last year, when times were far calmer, and they were said to be of advanced brewing. But I've already brewed the Polyjuice Potion, and that too is of advanced level. Time would tell, she reckoned.

In the end, to nurture and take care of valerians was quite easy, and that allowed her mind to wander about other topics. She could still remember Gertrude's insults and how deep they've carved into her. Hermione had believed for that weakness of hers to be long overcomed. Since she came into the Wizarding World, she'd been mocked for the purity of her blood, not for her looks. That felt like a stupid thing now, proper for elementary school and children's nonsense.

But it was not, it seemed.

Then came the words Professor Gourcuff had said to her. Now, four days after the incident, all she could do was to think and think about them. Because of that, she came to a decision.

When class ended and they made their way back to the castle, about to cross the large arc which welcomed them into Godric's Courtyard, she halted. Harry and Neville could but put an end to their conversation and stare at her, surprised.

"Is there any problem?" Neville asked, to which Harry raised his brows in support.

"No," she replied. "Well, yes, there's a problem. And I need to sort it out, now."

"But now it's lunch time," Harry pointed out. "Don't get me wrong, Hermione. I'm here for whatever you might need, but I've had Quidditch practice this morning, and it got so long that I missed breakfast. I'm utterly famished."

"Don't worry. This is something I need to deal with myself."

"Something about the elves?" Neville ventured.

"More or less." Lying felt easier than being honest, so she took that way. And before her two friends could call her out, she left in a hurry. "Don't worry about me! I'll see you in Transfiguration!"

She ran with such haste and so little pause through so many hallways that she felt about to faint by the time she reached her destination. Her sight even blurred for a moment. Okay, time to slow down. Hands on her knees, she took a few slower breaths, then cleaned the sweat from her forehead and bolted up.

In front stood a thick door of dark wood—Lupin's had been of a fairer shade, if she recalled correctly. She knocked twice and waited for an answer. None came. She hesitated, but still pushed the door open. Inside waited the familiar classroom of Defence, if not a bit cleaner than usual. There was no one here.

Hermione did not allow that to stop her and took the staircase up at the end of the room. Once she reached the top another door stood in her way. She was about to knock, but a voice came from inside. "Come in."

So she did.

She was welcomed into a large and bright chamber, with big, oval windows through which light seeped effortlessly. There was no carpet to embellish the light woodblock, however, there were countless drawings on the walls; all of them done with charcoal over thick paper. Of breathtaking landscapes; such as an endless waterfall which ran deep into the ground, a frosted land and a forest of bright flowers, of a fortified, crumbling city and a garden of gold and white.

"Didn't think you'd come to me this soon."

The voice pulled Hermione out of her awe. Only then she took notice of the young woman at the end of the room. Faith Gourcuff sent her an amused look as she set aside her food; though the plate was almost clean by now. "Come on, girl. Come here and take a seat. I don't bite, that's a promise."

"Those drawings, are they yours?" Hermione could but ask as she made her way over the table, eyes still set on them.

"Drawn by this very hand, indeed. Memories to immortalise my adventures, but also a hobby of mine to distract my mind when it runs relentless some nights." She took a moment to smile, then pointed at the largest drawing. "That waterfall, in the old Alazthi Kingdom, where it's said the Ancient Age ended, runs into the very depths of this world, and it goes upward; remnants of a legendary battle, it's said. That frosted land is the Swedish Stepee, a most dangerous place when I've done multiple researches about its wildlife. The forest of flowers, in Argentina, once was a settlement for a long forgotten race, the People of the Forest. That fortified city is all which is left of the Maidens of Hecate, a group of female warriors who did not withstand the end of their Age. And last comes the Evergreen Gardens, Ouagadougou's pride."

Hermione nodded, totally awed by her tales. However, the Professor brought her back without further preamble. "Well, tell me, has your mind settled?"

"I want to be strong, like you," she confessed in a low voice. "Not because of strength by itself, but because it will allow me to prove everyone wrong. That I, a mudblood, am as worthy of magic as they are. I don't want to feel their condescending glares anymore. I don't want to feel as if I wasn't enough anymore. I don't want to doubt myself, to feel like I need to prove again and again that I deserve to use magic. Because, no matter how good my grades are, or how much I work to master all those charms and spells we are taught, nothing seems to be enough for them."

"Oh, really?" the Professor raised a brow. "Such selfish desires you have, child. But, is there more to it, I wonder? People talk about you within the castle's walls—people mock you and your delusions. I've heard a few whispers about you wanting to free the elves from their slavery. Whispers about how passionately you defended werewolves."

Hermione was left speechless for a few seconds—did people mock her because she wanted to help a downtrodden folk? Of course they would laugh at me. Even my own friends think of it as a delusion. Then she gave a thought to the Professor's question. And silence lingered for a few minutes.

"I want to fight for the elves' freedom," she said, at last, "I want to help those looked down upon by the purebloods because I sympathise with them. But the real reason why I desire to become stronger is for my own benefit. Because I don't wanna cry ever again for some petty words. Because I want to feel accepted and respected for once."

"There it is, honesty!" Faith Gourcuff grinned as she clapped her hands. "You are quite sensible for a girl of fourteen years-old. Way more than me when I was your age, in fact. Back then, all I cared about were flashy spells and boys. Anyhow, let us not deviate from the matter. May I ask you something? Well, I'll take that as a yes. What made you so wise at such a young age? Because I feel like you are a most interesting person, Hermione Granger. Even if you do not think so."

She blinked, taken aback by this turn of events. "W-What made me so wise?" she repeated. "I don't know. This is the way I am. I've never thought of it as anything special. My parents raised me this way."

"Oh, but it is," the Professor went on, grinning as wide as before. "You and your friends, all of you are interesting and special folk. Three Gryffindors and two Slytherhins, who try their best to fight that devilish and hateful toad of Umbridge. Friends of Harry Potter. You tried to fight the Heir of Slytherin last year, right? And you succeeded, for much horrible it went. More so, Potter also ended up in the medical wing in your first year; oddly funny!"

"W-What do you mean?"

"I mean that trouble always finds a way here, to this School. To you and your friends." Suddenly she turned serious. "Power to defend your own, is that not what you want? Is that not why Ronald Weasley spends so much time alone in the Forest, training like a maniac?"

Again she was unable to utter a single word. Though not by awe this time, but by a mix of nervousness and fear. Who was this woman who knew so much about them?

"Come on, child," the Professor huffed. "Your eyes speak by themselves, and they scream how much you mistrust me. Have I scared you, perhaps? I apologise, then. Words have never been a virtue of mine, as I prefer going straight to the point no matter how delicate the matter might be. Of course I would look into the castle I'm about to live in, about the students I'm about to educate. I'm still a Nighteye, member of the most elite Australian corp. But now I'm also a Professor of Defence, and, as such, I must see to the safety of my students. I must see that they know of ways to defend themselves. A thing I cannot do because of the stupid guidelines the Ministry has imposed upon me. See where I'm going, child?"

"N-No?"

The young woman let out a deep sigh, "I wanna help you all. To be prepared for what might come in the future, for I believe that as long as Harry Potter is here, danger will come to Hogwarts. But I cannot trust most; especially from Slytherin and Ravenclaw."

"Wait a moment," Hermione cut in. "Is that why you've been glancing at us recently?"

"Perhaps," she said with a shrug. "An involuntary act, most likely. But, yes, I've been considering you, lions of Gryffindor. I've seen how your eyes shone whenever we spoke of magic and its uses, how fast the light died whenever the lecture became a theoretical one. And I've also seen your hatred toward Umbridge. Shy and careful, of course, but present nonetheless. I can help you, yes, but it will need to be done in secret, safe from those prying ears and eyes. And for that I need your help, Granger, as you know your fellow students better than I."

The idea took a while to settle in her mind. "So, you want to teach us. To really teach us, I mean?"

"Precisely. To you and to anyone else who might need this knowledge and might be of trust, regardless of age, gender or House." She halted, and her features turned thoughtful. "We will also need a safe place, now that I think about it. We cannot do it here, obviously. I'm afraid Umbridge has far too many eyes and ears within this castle."

"And you want me to organise it all?" Hermione asked, a bit overwhelmed.

"Of course I do! You are clever, child. And this will not be the first time you do something dangerous and secret within these walls, I'm sure of that."

"But… I came here to become stronger. To be a bit more like you. All this…"

"And you will achieve so," Professor Gourcuff cut in. "But why settle on such a poor goal when way more can be achieved? Are you so selfish that you will not give a chance to those in need of it to obtain the precious knowledge you so desire? Sorry to pop your bubble, Granger, but you aren't the only one who's been hounded by the Disciplinary Party. Just this week, I've seen more than twenty students in tears; all powerless to fight back. And I've seen retaliation, too, though unsuccessful. Led by the Weasley twins, mostly. But their efforts are not enough, as they are greatly outnumbered and outpowered."

Hermione could but blush in shame to such words. Then she chastised herself for thinking in such a way. "I'm not selfish," she defended herself. "It's just that… That I'm not good with people. I have few friends, you see, and such friendships were born out of their efforts more than mine. If it were for me, well, I would have remained as lonely as I've always been."

"Born?" the Professor took a moment to glance at the girl. "What kind of fourteen-year-old girl speaks with such words? Oh, dear. You are worse than me when I was your age. Still you've managed to find four great friends, a feat I could never manage. Life is a cruel thing, indeed."

"You had trouble making friends, really?" Hermione found that rather unbelievable. This witch in front of her was gorgeous and strong, confident and proud, intelligent and extroverted. How could she dare to think they were similar.

"Trouble? What an understatement!" she snickered. "It was a deed so impossible to achieve I long ago came to lose all hope. But I'm fine now, as I came to enjoy solitude. Anyhow, let's not turn this talk into an interrogation. Focus on the future, not the past. And the future lies within your hands, Granger. Say, are you ready to set aside your selfishness, or your social anxiety, as you referred to it, to make a change? Knowledge will be given to you all if you decide so, and it will be your efforts which will have a say in whoever makes the best out of it."

Hermione saw such a challenge in her eyes, such a taunt, she could but bolt up and walk away. Only when she stepped out of the room did she understand the decision was already taken.

She would make a change.

---

Quidditch practice had ended half an hour ago, but still did Harry remain in the dressing room, hair still damped from the shower. Sat across him were George and Fred, whose answer he still waited for. They were alone, as everyone else had left for breakfast.

"A room big enough to host about twenty students, if not more, you say?" George wondered, puzzled.

"For a lecture of Defence?" Fred added. "A rather unauthorised and illegal one, on top of that. Damn it, Harry. You sure know how to sell me a class!"

Then they shared a look, and spoke at the same time, "And what about the dear Map we gave you, Harry? Haven't you made use of it? Don't let us down like this, please."

"I have," the boy sighed, already fed up with their nonsense. How their siblings could have withstood this for years amazed him. "To keep an eye on Umbridge and the Party, mostly. But also to control the two new Professors."

"One of which, if what dear Hermione says is true, might be on our side?" Fred cut in.

"Hermione would never lie about something this serious."

"Well, yes, but what if she got tricked?" George pointed out. "Love her very much, but she ain't very clever, if you know what I mean. She's just like dear Percy—her blind faith in a Professor could be our doom." Fred was quick to nod at those words.

"I've already thought about it," Harry confessed. "And you might've hit the nail, unfortunately. However, on our own, we stand no chance against Umbridge. And don't you give me that look, Fred. What have we accomplished in these three months? To witness the sacking of three Professors who were loyal to Dumbledore? To go through countless detentions, each one worse than the previous? To see how a bunch of morons think themselves above us? Please. We aren't even talking about Umbridge here. We cannot defeat the bloody Party. Damn it!"

His burst allowed the birth of a wonder, to silence the twins. A glint of surprise shone in their eyes when they shared a look. Then glanced at Harry and opened their mouths. Yet no word came out for a few more seconds.

"Well, ain't truth an ugly thing?" George said sourly.

"And to have it reminded by our junior?" Fred added, even gloomier. "That's bad, Georgie. Horrible. Terrific. Ugly…"

"I already used that word."

"Awful. Dreadful. Nasty. Ghastly?"

"Oh, not that last one. Too fancy a word. Proper of Perce."

"Damn. Take it out, then."

"Can you two focus for a second?" Harry groaned, about to lose his temper. "This is serious, bloody hell. This could mean a difference. And I don't know about you two, but I'm so fed up with losing. Of bowing to that hellish woman and doing as she says. I'm sick of it, so much that I have trouble sleeping. I see her in my dreams!"

They eyed him carefully. Then, again, shared a look. "We'll trust your judgement, Harry," George said at last.

"If you trust Hermione, then so do we," Fred nodded. "And if such trust ends up being our doom, then so be it. Now, back to the initial matter… Well, what you ask is quite a challenge."

"Or rather, a delusion."

"Honestly, I don't know if there's even such a room. One which could host more than twenty students, but also one which cannot be found easily…"

"It sounds bloody impossible."

Then they grinned, "And don't we love a damn challenge, Georgie?"

"That we do, Freddie! Okay, the matter is settled. We'll find such room for you, Harry."

That said, they sprung up and left in a hurry; the cold air from outside seeped into the dressing room through the open door. Only then did Harry realise he'd been left alone with a yet to be cleaned room. Damn them! Whatever. As long as they find that room.

And he would not need to wait long for the twins.

Two days later, on a full moon night, they came to see them in the common room. The place was almost packed to the brim due to the upcoming exams, thus all the hearths roared alive and strong; the noise of the charring wood being second only to that of the quills scratching paper. And so, the twins seemed to appear out of thin air. Fred dropped himself on a couch next to Hermione, whereas George took a seat on Harry's armrest. And they both remained silent for a moment.

"It's impossible," George admitted reluctantly.

"Bloody impossible," Fred added with a sigh.

"Say what?" Hermione spluttered, her quill still dancing in her hands as she refused to finish the essay until perfection were to be achieved.

"The room you asked us to get," they both said at the same time. "There's no such a room here. Nope, there's not."

It was the response Harry had been waiting for, but still it disappointed him. "Not even a secret room? One somehow hidden even to the Map?"

"We've tried, Harry," George said. "We searched from the dungeons to the Astronomy Tower. We walked through all those abandoned and almost forgotten corridors on the sixth floor. We tried all the secret passages within the castle, and poked at every brick to see if there was a room hidden underneath."

"We snuck into Filch's office," Fred cut in, "to see if there was any map we had yet to steal from him. We even searched outside the castle, in the Forest. And all of that with Gertrude's dogs upon us. But there's nothing. Unless…"

"There's the Headmaster's office," George finished.

"That won't do," Hermione said softly. At last she set aside her essay, which now was a pile of sheets thicker than Harry's and Neville's combined. If theirs were to be doubled, of course. "Umbridge has no access to that room, but there we'd be easy prey. All she'd need to do is to wait outside."

"So, the Professor's plan is screwed, isn't it?" Nevilled said.

"And what about it?" Fred said, then. "We've always fought on our own against those bigots from Slytherin. We don't need no Professor to aid us."

Harry was about to cut in, to remind them of how badly they were losing. But it was Hermione who took the word for herself. And the frown she wore as she pointed her quill at them was one so fierce the boy didn't dare to voice out his thoughts.

"Oh, really? We don't need her to keep fighting and to keep losing, is that what you mean?" Even the twins were taken aback by this sudden sprout of character. "Because just yesterday I saw you two and your friends running from Flint and his gang with the tail between your legs. Come on! Wake up, you morons! This isn't you two and your stupid prank war against Slytherin anymore. This is everyone's business now. Are you gonna tell all those who get bullied by the Party each day that all will be settled? That you two will save them? Please, do not make me laugh! We need someone to teach us how to really fight back. How to stand our ground."

The twins shared a look, then glanced at Hermione. "So, violence it is," Fred said, to which George added, "I like violence."

"No!" Hermione snapped back. "Well, not necessarily. But we need to show them we can stand our ground. By chance, have you ever seen a member of the Party targeting your brother Percy? Because I have not. And he might be the one who's stopped them more than anyone else. Still they glare daggers at him and walk away. Why's that, you reckon? Because everyone knows that, if he wanted, if he were to feel threatened, he could sweep the floor with Gertrude and her dogs all by himself. Or their fellow and rebellious Slytherin, Claire Tossard. Or Cedric Diggory or Roger Davies and his friends."

They all stilled, eyes set on Hermione. It didn't take her much to blush. "What?" she almost growled.

"Nothing!" Neville was quick to say. "We just were…"

"Surprised!" Fred grinned. "And quite delighted! Still, as much as I loved your explosion, it won't change the fact there's nothing to do."

"So, a place is all you need, right?"

A new voice came from behind, surprising them all. For a moment Harry's heart almost leaped out of him. Then he turned around and his worry turned into confusion.

"Didn't Mum teach you to never eavesdrop, Gin-Gin?" George said sourly.

She blushed, "Don't call me that! And, yes, she taught me so. But I couldn't help myself. Here you are, heads bunched up, talking in whispers and huddled in this corner of the common room. I wasn't the only one to notice it, for the record. Just the only one to come closer."

"As it should," George nodded. "Our reputation truly precedes us."

"And I'm glad to see you back, Gin-Gin!" Fred grinned. "At last you show this nosey side of yours! Long time no see, dear sister!"

Hermione meddled in before Ginny could bite back, as her face had turned just as red as her hair. "How much did you hear?" she sighed.

"I don't know. All of it, perhaps? I won't tell a soul, I swear. But I want to help."

"And how are you supposed to do that, dear sister? Won't you be hinting that you could succeed where we failed, right? Because, if so, I'd need to laugh quite loudly at that. And I would never dare to mock you!"

"Hear, hear!"

Ginny completely ignored them. Instead her eyes found Hermione's. "I want to help. I'll find that room. Or I'll try, at least. All I ask is that you let me alone, to do it on my own." It was the most serious he'd ever seen her.

Hermione seemed to doubt, and so did Harry. But Neville did not. "Of course, you can help us, right? We've found a wall, either way."

Her face brightened so much she almost put the warmth in shame. "Thank you! Really! I won't let you down!" That said, she left and ran toward the dormitories, spearing through a group of sixth-graders who glared at her.

"Now, what was that?" Fred whistled.

"Talk about the unexpected!" George nodded with a grin.

"What is so strange about it?" Hermione asked, confused.

"Well, perhaps the fact this was the real Ginny. Our sister, the one and only." A smile was drawn on the twins' faces. "Whom we've not seen since she came into Hogwarts. Last year was hard for everyone, that I know, but more so for her. From what I know, all the friends she made are no longer her friends. For one reason or another, but that ain't our business."

"And this right here, this was Gin-Gin. Still, I have no idea how she plans to find such a place. We weren't lying when we said we tried our best. Just as we don't lie when we say no one knows this castle as we do."

"But she seemed so sure of herself," Harry pointed out. He could see the way Hermione bit her lip, as if hesitating. But Harry told her not with a simple look. What happened between Ginny and Voldemort was something only she could share. Whenever and however she decided. "How do you reckon she plans to do it?"

Fred shook his head as he stood up, "No bloody idea." Then followed George, "But we wish her good luck. Well, I'm afraid this is all for today, folks. We are off to bed. And you should do the same, Harry. I can already feel Wood's eyes on our back. Let us not give our dear captain a heart attack. Not before he's lifted the Cup."

And they left in laughter, glancing and pointing at Oliver.

On his behalf, Harry could but lean back into his couch. His essay lay long forgotten atop of the table. And long unfinished. "Going to bed sounds like a good idea," he sighed.

"Don't you have something to do first?" Hermione pointed out.

"Perhaps, but I can do it tomorrow."

"Tomorrow you'll be given more essays. And then you will complain about how much homework you have to do. And then you'll come to me, begging for my work."

Her nagging was all Harry needed to stand up, "That's a problem for the Harry of the future. Goodnight, you two." He was so tired the journey to his room seemed endless, though it was a rather short one. So tired he didn't bother to prepare his things for tomorrow.

If he arrived late to the training, then so be it. And if Wood decided to kill him because of that, then, at least, he wouldn't need to see Umbridge's face once again. Still, he couldn't sink into the oneiric world for how exhausted he was. There they were to visit him, as per usual, the faces of those he'd let down. Hagrid, Lupin and Dumbledore. And above them all raised that of Umbridge.

So he rolled and rolled in his bed. Until sleep consumed him at some point of the night.

---

The night was so dark no light seeped through the windows; the downcasted sky too powerful a wall for the moon to shine upon the castle. And the shadows waited, halted and silent. And Ginny observed them, trying to swallow her fear so she could look brave. The few torches on the walls did little to ease his anxiousness, as their weak flames could but cast more shadows into the night.

I'm a Gryffindor, damn it! But the shadows did not seem to care about that, and their embrace became a much heavier one. Harry and the others were late, and she cursed them for that. First, Hermione had proposed to meet late into the night, when no unwanted eyes could follow them. And Ginny, of course, had needed to wait for them alone and cold.

Where are they? She cursed them yet again. No sound came from the adjoining hallway, and it wasn't as if her eyes could pierce through the dark veil of the night. Her wand was tightly clutched in her hand, which sweated and trembled. If only Charlie could see her now. Oh, how disappointed he would feel!

The sound of footsteps finally reached her ears. She sprang up and walked out from her hiding spot, right behind the statue of a centaur, trying to put on a calm mask. But there was no one there. And the footsteps halted. No. Not again, please. Not you, Tom.

But it wasn't Tom who spoke. It was Harry. "Sorry for being late. We found some trouble right at the exit of the Tower. Filch and his cat; always in the worst place and moment."

They appeared out of thin air.

"H-How? W-What on earth?" Ginny spluttered.

Harry just stored something into the little bag which hung from his shoulder, "There's no time to explain it now. Come on, show us the room. I don't like being here, where anyone might see us, for too long."

Three pairs of eyes fell over Ginny, then. And it took the redhead a few seconds to snap out of her stupor. "Right. The room. Follow me." She took them through the dark hallway swiftly. The deep silence made their footsteps rumble against the walls, which only made her speed up.

We now take a turn to the left, and then we walk twenty steps forward. And… Here it should be. Ginny gulped down a knot as her hand hovered over the wall. It felt cold and raspy to the touch.

"Lumos," Hermione mused from behind. A dazzling light revealed the sturdy walls of Hogwarts to them. It was just a regular wall. "Oh, crap! Sorry!" With a whisper Hermione reduced the power of her spell, and so the light became powerful enough to bright their faces.

"And well?" Harry whispered. "What is supposed to happen?"

Ginny did not answer him. Instead she clapped the wall as she tried to conceive her embarrassment. Come on! It's supposed to be here. Appear, damn it! A faint click was heard, then. Soon enough the stone walls started to morph, and a huge door of pale wood replaced it. Its knobs were of golden metal, almost warm to the touch.

No one uttered a word for a few seconds.

"What the hell?" Neville mused in awe. "I've gone through this corridor countless times. Never ever have I seen this door. Not here, not anywhere in the castle…" Hermione could but open and close her mouth again and again, yet no word came out. And Harry… Well, all he did was to stare at Ginny in shock.

And that caused the girl to blush even more, though not in shame this time. Her hand was quick to push the knob down, and so she stormed into the Room of Requirement. There, she was left as rooted as her three companions behind, amazed at the sight in front of them.

An unbelievable chamber expanded in every direction, large enough to host more than a hundred people. Ten large and beautifully-crafted chandeliers hung from the ceiling, which arched upward in an inverted pyramid. Few windows of great size allowed the night's void to seep into the chamber, though it was repelled by the countless torches and warmths which set the room ablaze.

"This is…" Hermione gulped.

"A wonder?" Neville could but add.

The walls were covered by many bookshelves filled to the brim with books of each and every colour, thickness and size. Swords, axes, hammers and spears were displayed behind glasses here and there. And many kinds of pits divided the chamber into different sections; some were pillowed and welcoming, others filled with sand and there were a few of unsteady and irregular surfaces.

And amidst it all stood Alaine Baldwin, seated on a tall chair with her arms widely open. As if the chamber's queen. "Welcome you all," she began with a grin, "to this most wonderful place! Come on, don't be so shy and come closer. And, for the love of God, someone close that door now! It's damn cold outside!"

The door closed behind them, but not to their doing.

Harry, Hermione and Neville shared a moment of silence; then they broke it in their own way.

"What's she doing here?" Hermione squealed.

"Since when is this room here?" Harry asked, his eyes busy wandering around.

"Who is she?" Neville pointed at the Slytherin.

Alaine's grin fell off her face, replaced by a frown. "I'm Alaine Baldwin. And I'm here to help you. No, to save your asses, better said. As a little bird told me that, for whatever reason, you guys were in need of a place like this, yet were unable to find it. Yes, I know—I'm so very kind. You don't need to tell me that. Nor to thank me, really."

Ginny let out an exasperated sigh, "You can trust her. And, yes, you can also thank her, as she was who found this place. With my help, of course."

Harry ignored them, instead made his way around the chamber, eyes full of sparkling wonder, "This is incredible…"

Of course, it was Hermione who took the word. "Thank you, Alaine," she said as she rubbed her temples. "May I ask you how you found this place? Excuse the doubt in my voice, but, well, I find it hard to believe you could succeed where the twins and us failed."

Alained stood up, and the chair banished. "That's quite easy to answer. I asked the elves. Simple as that."

"You asked the elves?" Hermione repeated slowly.

"That's what I said. They know more than anyone else about the castle. All its secrets, all its wonders, which includes those yet to be discovered by us, students." And which such answer she managed to accomplish a miracle: Alaine had just left Hermione Granger speechless.

"But how does it work?" Harry asked from the other end of the room, and the heads turned toward him. "I've walked through this hallway more times than I care to count. Yet in none of them stood such a door on the wall. Never."

"You lacked a purpose," Alaine explained with a shrug. "Or a need. Or a desire."

"A purpose?" Now it was Ginny who voiced out her doubts. When Alaine had first brought her to this place, she'd been so awed no questions had arisen in her mind. She'd accepted it as another of Hogwarts's wonders. And when the Slytherin had told her to wait for the Gryffindors outside, to then bring them to the wall, where a door would appear out of nowhere, she'd said nothing.

"Don't ask me about the specifics," the Slytherin sighed, "because I have no bloody idea about how this room works. Pinky told me to come here, to stand in front of the wall and project my desires. The more sense of urgency within them, the better. So she told me. So I did. And so this room came to exist. Because I needed it."

The trio shared a look. Then Harry gave a firm nod, to which Hermione followed reluctantly whereas Neville smiled. "It's perfect," the boy said. "Thank you, Alaine. Really. And you too, Ginny. We'll make the best of it."

"That's better," she nodded. "But there's something else." Her eyes searched Ginny's, who returned the glance. "We want in."

Again they shared a look, and when Harry opened his mouth there was not so much kindness in his eyes. But Hermione stopped him, much to Ginny's surprise. "Don't bother, Harry," she started. "They already know about our plan. You heard her—the magic within this room, it seems, creates a space to suit one's needs. And this chamber is perfect for training." Her eyes fell upon Ginny, a sour look on her face. "You did overhear all the conversation, didn't you?"

Ginny could but lower her gaze, "I'm sorry, really. But I… I knew I couldn't change what I've done, so I decided to help instead. I, well, I really wanted to be useful, you know? I hate Umbridge, too. And if there's someone who can stop her now that Dumbledore's gone, that's you three. You and my brothers."

"And us, too, Ginny," Alaine cut in fiercely.

Hermione closed the distance with them, "I do trust you," she said softly. "The two of you. But there's something you must understand. This is extremely dangerous, because if Umbridge or anyone from the Party catches a sniff of this, the punishment will be very ugly. Because of that, we need to act with the utmost secrecy."

"Count on me," Ginny said.

"Same goes here," Alaine nodded.

But Harry did not seem so convinced yet. "Why do you want to stop Umbridge so fervently? You're a Slytherin. She's very soft on you."

"Because I hate her," the girl replied, fierce as a lion. "She's a hateful woman, who's hurt my friends just because they dared to express their dislike. Because the Party, those loyal lapdogs of hers, enjoy the suffering of others. Because I love Hogwarts, and she's making a ruin of it. I could go on for the entire night, Potter, and I might need a few hours of the morning to finish the list. Else, you could just trust me, as I've risked my neck enough to discover this place and show it to you. So, which one is gonna be?"

For a moment Harry showed no reaction. Then he gave the hint of a smile. "I like you, Alaine. I wish there were a hundred like you in the castle. We would've already stopped Umbridge, that way."

And with those words arose a sprout of jealousy within Ginny. Hot and fierce, it was. Yet it was cold that she felt; enough to make her shiver. Because it brought back a certain memory. That of Tom and his words. "You want the boy, Potter, don't you? You want him all for yourself. But he's the hero of the Wizarding World, and he sees nothing but a little girl in you. Nothing but his friend's little sister. I can change that. You and me, together. I can make you strong and desirable, Ginny. A Queen. Not only to his eyes, but to everyone else's."

So had he won her favour, and so had she started to heed his advice. Tom had turned her into the ace student of her year, which had earned her the praise from many and the jealousy from others. Tom had turned her into a Queen. A Queen to be discarded when he'd suck all the use she could offer him.

A warm hand fell on her shoulder. "Are you okay, Ginny?" Alaine asked worriedly.

"Oh, yes," she was quick to answer. Yet too late still, as she'd become the centre of attention. "I'm exhausted, that's all." Her words did little to ease their concern, it seemed. "I'm fine, I swear!" And that was another mistake to add to the pile. All she could hope for was for the stinging in her eyes to not grow into tears. If it hadn't already.

Fortunately, they all silently agreed to not tell her otherwise.

"Well, if the matter is settled, then I have a little favour to ask of you," Alaine said sheepishly. "I might need a bit of help to walk down to my common room. The Gryffindor Tower is but a few hallways from here, but the dungeons are not. And the castle ain't a very welcoming place so deep into the night, you see. Not to talk about Filch, the Professors and the Party."

Hermione glanced at Harry, who gave her a reluctant nod. "This will be another secret you'll keep for yourself, Alaine," he said while pulling some dark cloth from his bag. It was a long piece of good silk, black as night itself.

It took Ginny a few seconds to connect the dots. "An invisible cloak!" she gasped. "That's how you appeared out of thin air, when I heard your footsteps yet could not see you anywhere."

"That's wicked!" Alaine whistled, eyes gleaming. "For how long have you had it? My God, the wonders I could make with that!"

"Now, that's something I'd rather not say," the boy replied as he walked toward the Slytherin. He then unfolded the cloak and got underneath. "Come on, step inside. It's large enough to hide three people."

Alaine practically threw herself under the cloak. When Harry pulled it down, they banished. Woah! It's flawless. Ginny had seen such cloaks before, of course; there was a time in which Bill had developed quite the interest in them. But the one stored at some vault in their attic could not be compared with this one. For much she tried, there was not a single flaw she could detect.

"Will you wait for me to come back?" Harry asked, his voice a whisper from afar now.

Hermione just unfolded some piece of parchment and took a look at it. "No. I think we should go back to the common room now. We'll wait for you there."

"Are you sure?" Last thing Ginny needed was to be caught wandering around deep into the night. Oh, the rumours that would be said!

"Totally," Hermione said.

And she was right, for not a single shadow crossed their way. Regardless, Ginny did not feel at ease until she laid down in her bed, where darkness did not scare her so much. Still she drew out her wand once she changed into her nightdress, as per usual, and still she casted a weak Lumos once the curtains closed around her bed.

And it took her more than a hour, but she finally fell asleep under the shelter of the faint light.

---

At last Sunday came, and Ron found himself up on his feet way earlier than usual.

In fact, dawn had yet to bless the morning, and the night's dark veil seemed to eat all which could not be saved by the torches' feeble light. He dressed in silence, though his roommates didn't care about his comings and goings, and walked outside. There awaited Tracey, sleepy features carved into her face. She, too, wasn't a morning person.

"Is the coast clear?" she managed to ask between yawns.

"Let's find out."

No one stood watch in the common room, and so, they made their way out without further preamble. Now came the challenge, though. They'd been asked to go up to the last floor, to a hallway not so far from the Gryffindor Tower. It wasn't early enough for people to be up, nor late enough for Filch to still watch the corridors. Still, their ascend was a slow one. Wherever a corner appeared, Ron paused and leaned his head out to watch for any danger.

Yet they found none, thus they arrived safe and sound.

They came to stand in front of a plain wall. "So, what now?" Tracey asked.

"Now comes this, I guess." Ron closed his eyes and thought about his need to find a room so they could train in secret. He projected it against the wall. Nothing happened for a while, and just when he was about to walk away, feeling a fool, a door morphed into the wall.

And then he really felt like a fool.

"Well, that went well," he said sourly, to which Tracey grinned as she pushed the door open.

Thus they were welcome into a most splendid place. The chamber was large and high, very well illuminated, but what really caught his eye were the many pits around. It resembled Nurgon, but not so old a place. He wandered around for a few seconds, awed, then he took in the other's presence.

Faith Gourcuff stood near a large, opened window, paying no attention to the newcomers as her gaze ventured into the dark void the night was; her blue, long skirts flapped to the wind's tune. Harry, Hermione and Neville were there, of course, wide awake and ready. But so were the twins and Ginny. And Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan. And Alaine Baldwin.

"The hell are you doing here?" Ron could but ask.

His words erased the grin on the girl's face, "Because I say so. That's why."

"It was just a question, Alaine," the redhead sighed. "I was surprised, not annoyed. It's too early for me to think straight." She still tried to act tough, but her eyes showed none of that; the amused gleam in them spoke by itself.

Ron was about to make his way over to his family, but the Professor had another idea. "Well, it seems we are ready to start," she said while closing the window with a twist of her hand. She stilled for a moment, eyeing them all keenly. "First of all, let's be blunt about this. I organised this because I really want to help you. To prepare you for the future, because so it's my duty as your Professor of Defence. Obviously, all we'll learn here will be of use against the Party and whoever or whatever poses a threat to you. But be warned, I want none of you to use any of this knowledge to hurt those who oppose you. Self-defence, that's fine. To defend a dear friend, or even a stranger in need, that's also fine. But to start a fight yourselves? You better pray none of that reaches my ears, as I will cancel this instantly."

Her gaze lingered on the twins for a moment, yet resumed the speech nonetheless. "This must be kept a secret, of course, but it doesn't mean our doors are closed. You will decide who is fit to join us; no matter to which House they belong. I don't care if you all hold the power to decide so, or if you force it entirely upon one. It will be your duty, not mine. All I will do is to teach you, nothing else. Any questions?"

They all remained silent.

"Good," she nodded firmly. "Lupin prepared you well enough for what little time he was given, as his lectures covered the most important creatures and spells. So, we will focus on a very special spell first: the Disillusionment Charm." Hermione raised her hand, as if to explain the spell. But the Professor did not ask for their intervention. She lowered it with a blush on her face. "This beauty of a spell will allow you to move through the castle much safer. To come here, to run from an enemy, or for whatever you might need it. Now, be warned, for this spell is not a simple one to master. More so, there's the fact you all don't have the same level. Still, each one will go at their own pace. Keep a calm head and work hard; that's all."

She made it clear that this spell was not to turn one invisible, but to make one take the exact colour and texture of their surroundings. However, if the caster's skill were of exceptional magnitude, the outcome of the spell could make others believe so. She showed it herself. Twirling her wand around her body, as if wrapping herself with an invisible scarf, she disappeared.

Alaine let out an awed gasp as the other just blinked in surprise. Ron, however, did not rely on his eyes alone, so he expanded his aura and sought the Professor's. It was there, though faintly. All else felt like a shout breaking through the silence, yet hers was a subtle whistle.

Then she became visible once more. "Simple as that. Now, time to draw out your wands and practice!"

Ron did not expect much success within the first hours, but by the time dawn came, its rays seeping through the windows like light needles, the twins made it. They truly disappeared from sight, but there was something strange. Professor Gourcuff seemed to notice it, too.

"You two, try to close out on the others and take their wands away from them."

Silence followed her command, and nine pairs of eyes and ears were put into the task. Alaine and Ginny were first to fall, their surprised gasps breaking through the chamber's stillness. Then a pause that put them on the edge. Neville was next, and five seconds later it was Hermione's turn; the pissed look she wore was a mighty one.

And then the twins made their mistake.

Fred saw his brother as the perfect target, and Ron allowed him to believe so. He loomed from behind, slowly, carefully, tricking both sight and hearing. But not the Sense. Ron waited for him to make his last move, then turned around as if lighting and pointed his wand at Fred.

"Finite!"

And so did Fred become visible, eyes and mouth opened in shock like a fish out of water. "The hell?" he mused.

Then followed George, who'd tried Harry. He just stepped aside as George tried to disarm him, thus he failed, and his grasp slipped to the seeker's forearm.

"Halt!" Faith Gourcuff shouted atop of her lungs, startling the all. "Oh, sorry. Old habits, back from my military training. Anyhow, it wasn't so bad for a first try, Fred and George. But it was far from perfection. Now, Ronald and Harry, care to explain how you manage to locate them?"

The two friends shared a look, then a shrug. "I noticed something weird as they moved," the Gryffindor started. "Like a blur in the air. As if they couldn't mimic the exact colours fast enough. At first I wasn't sure, but it became obvious after he took Hermione out."

"Oh, I saw that too!" Tracey cut in. "Well, more or less. I thought I was making things up, not gonna lie. But I can relate to what Harry just said."

"Honestly, I don't know how to explain it," Ron lied. "I saw something weird. Could be what Harry said."

His answer didn't seem to sit well with the Professor, who said nothing yet turned invisible. Ron felt her closing the distance between them, of course, though her trace wasn't so easy to read as his brother's. However, he decided to stand still and defenceless. If she wanted to prove a point, he wouldn't give her such pleasure.

But then came a murderous intent from her, so powerful Ron could but shudder in fear. And when she was close enough he had no option but to stop her hand, as his moved on its own, spurred by the most primal instinct which was survival. So she became visible again, a smirk of her face as she glanced at where their hands seized one another. "Well, well, well! Ain't you a box full of surprises!"

Ron shook his hand away from her grasp. "You tricked me," he whispered into her ears, quite annoyed. "You used Magical Transmutation to force me to act against my will."

She ignored his comment, instead chatted aloud, "Something weird indeed! Well, it happens sometimes. People might have an ick when feeling the flow of magic. Now, how useful this is, you may wonder. Not so much, I'm afraid. Not against a skilled witch. Care to repeat, Ronald?"

"Do I have a say?"

"Not really!" She walked back with an amused smirk on her face, until she stood about twenty metres from the redhead. He noticed all the eyes on them, curious, yes, but also keen and with a strong desire to learn.

Faith Gourcuff disappeared yet again, and Ron took in her aura yet again. But then it banished, and yet she was invisible. No, this cannot be. One cannot suppress their aura and not break the spell while at it. Now he put all his might into the task, lids so close to one another his eyes might look closed from the outside. Those auras he felt from his friends became deafening shouts to him, yet Ron pulled them aside, to the back of his mind, and went in search of that faint whisper.

He found it, so close to him their noses were about to touch. He bolted back, wand ready at hand, "Finite!" But nothing changed. What? But I thought…

A weight fell upon him from behind. It wasn't heavy enough to make him kneel, but still he did so after a blow in the back of her knees. A clothed arm slithered around his neck, and pulled the air away from his lungs when it closed in a chokehold. "You should tap," she whispered. "Your Sense is incredibly good and polished, more so for a boy about your age. But you still have much to learn."

A sprout of pride was born within Ron. He tried to fight away, to break through her hold. But it only took him a second to understand there was much strength in the body of this petite woman. His face a mix of red and blue, he tapped defeat.

Ron ignored the whispers as he tried to draw as much air to his lungs as possible. He could but cough most of it when his lungs were overfilled. "That was a bloody spectre of magic!" he spluttered between ragged breaths.

His vision unblurred at last, and he took in his surroundings. The students all stood in a circle around the Professor, who did her best to answer all their doubts. "Oh, for Merlin's sake! I'm fine here, you know? You don't need to worry so much about me. It wasn't as if I had just been put to sleep by this psycho of a woman!"

All his rambling seemed to do was to amuse Fred. "Oh, hello there, dear brother! Don't be so discourteous and whimsical. All she did was to hug you!"

"Hear, hear!"

Ron finally stood up, "A hug? I'll give you two a bloody hug!"

Yet she was quick to meddle in, "I reassured them you were fine. Just in need of a bit of air. Now, care to repeat what you just spluttered? I want them to hear it."

In another situation, he might have felt a bit nervous due to the attention he was given. But that feeling was easily dwarfed by annoyance. "I said you used a spectre of magic to trick me. Don't bother denying it. I know it's true." Annoyance was too mighty an emotion to put a bit of respect in his words, it seemed.

Professor Gourcuff tilted her head, but it was Harry who took the word for himself. "Like the ones we saw at the Minor of Hogsmeade?" To which Ron nodded. "Oh, it makes sense. But still… I could not see a thing."

"How did you do it?" Ron asked. "I've seen them in action, and I could tell them apart from the original source. Not this time, though."

She stared at him with such intensity it almost made him nervous. Well, it did make him nervous, yet he did not show it. "Get into pairs and work on this spell," she said at last. "We still are a few hours shy from midday, so there's plenty of time to work and get things done. Feel free to take a rest from time to time. I believe we can make this room to bring us some snacks and drinks." Just then, a table full of fruits, sandwiches and water bottles appeared at the end of the chamber. "Look at that beauty! Well, time to work, now!"

She turned their back on them and walked toward the window. There she took a seat on the windowsill and enjoyed the warm and bright sun. Ron was about to go in her search, more annoyed than in need of answers, yet a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

It was Ginny's.

"Will you pair with us?" she asked shyly, her finger going between Alaine and herself. "For as much as we tried, we achieved nothing. And you, well, it really seemed quite effortless to you."

There was nothing that could've made Ron refuse. So his annoyance was deep buried into his mind, replaced by the time he spent with his sister. However, it wasn't a very successful time, unfortunately. Ron managed to cast the charm on himself, but it took the two girls little time to point out its many flaws. It did not worry him much, let it all be said, as he'd come to learn that effort was a way to achieve most things.

But it did hurt him to see the frustration and defeat within his sister's face. More so after her friend, Alaine, did manage a bit of success. "Did I make it?" she could but shout excitedly. All in truth, she'd banished. Though not as a whole.

"Well, you could say so," Ron said, who didn't know whether to feel amused or surprised. "I can't see you, but I do see your clothes floating in the air."

Alaine let out a startled gasp as she looked down. "Oh, crap!" And with such lack of focus her spell came to an end. "I thought I'd made it!"

"How did you do it?" Ginny asked her avidly.

"I have no idea," the Slytherin replied with a shrug, eyes still sparkling. "All I did was to point my wand at myself and twirl it as the Professor said. Oh, and to think how cool it would be to become invisible. Seems it wasn't enough. Unless…" She was quick to try again, though the results were the same. "Oh, it didn't work!"

For the next hour, Ginny tried and tried. And Ron tried to help her, but to no avail. George and Fred soon came to his aid, just to achieve as little as their brother. At some point of the morning, Alaine left them to pair up with Harry, whereas Hermione came in their aid. Her advice and approach to the spell was of greater help, as Ron and the twins guided themselves by instinct and feeling.

"Oh, this felt funny!" Ginny gasped. But she stilled once she took in Ron's face.

"Well, it's something," he smiled softly. She'd manage to change into her surroundings' colours, though the texture had not changed. One could see the shape of her nose and mouth through the wooden surface her face was. And her green eyes, which shone as emeralds through it.

"I'm useless," she said hoarsely, tears gathering in her eyes. And neither Ron or Hermione did know what to say to comfort her.

With such a sombre note the morning did end. And when Professor Gourcuff bid them farewell, Ginny was first to go. Ron could but stare at her, lost and frustrated. Just as Tracey did by his side. Though he was the focus of her eyes, and worry was written all over them.

"I'd have a word with you, Ronald," the Professor said, suddenly. "In private, please." It took Tracey a few seconds, but she ended up walking away; even more worried than before. "She cares about you, that one."

"I know," Ron sighed. "And still I give her many reasons to do so. Now, let's get straight to the point. What do you want?"

"I'm amused by the lack of respect in your voice and words," she pointed out. "But another Professor might not be. You should think twice and refrain your tongue before them."

"That I do, as they never gave me reasons not to."

"Oh, but did I?"

"First, you forced me to act against my will by using Magical Transmutation," he observed. "Then, to prove your point, almost sent me into the oneiric realm when there was no need to do so. You could've taken my wand from me, or even hit me with another spell. Yet you almost choked me unconscious."

She made a chair appear out of thin air, then took a seat on it. "I did not force you to act against your will. I gave you a reason to act, and your instinct did the rest. Were you stronger of will, you would have resisted the impulse if you wanted to keep your secret so fervently." Another chair appeared for him, which he took after a few seconds of hesitation. "And we finally stand at the same height, so things might be discussed now. Do you know why I went so hard on you?"

"No, I don't."

"Because I think you are worth it," she said. "I could treat you like a delicate flower, as I treat your sister and her friend. I could treat you like some loyal yet not so bright dog, as I treat Longbottom, Davis, Finnegan and Thomas. Or I could treat you like a hawk in training, as I treat your brothers, Potter and Granger. Yet I see way more within you. A jewel to polish, perhaps. Or a lion to tame, it could be. So I was treated years ago, before I became a Nighteye. Tough hand seldom is the key to forge a wonder out of mediocrity, though not out of brilliance."

Their eyes lingered on one another for a few seconds. "Who are you, Professor? Why are you doing this? Risking yourself and your job for the sake of it."

"I might be risking my job, Ronald, but not myself," she said. "Else, why did I come here in the first place, if not to be a Professor? If not to show my students how to defend themselves? Do you think I would allow a witch such as Umbridge to dictate me what to do? She, an ordinary woman, to me, a Nighteye? I belong to the most elite corp in the world. Damned be I if I allow such an insect to intimidate me."

"You should not underestimate her," Ron said outrightly. "Many did so before you. It did not end well for them."

"I do not underestimate her."

Ron believed her. "And this is your way of teaching? We are students, not soldiers, if I may remind you."

"So I treated your friends. But you, a boy who has gone through Lord Redfield's instruction? I believe you are ready for my ways of teaching."

"How did you do it?" the redhead asked suddenly. "How did you trick me?"

She allowed herself a smile, "A woman has her secrets, Ronald. And so does a man, it seems. Perhaps one day I will share them with you, if I deem you as fit. But not today." She stood up, chair banishing while at it. "I'm afraid I must go. Is there anything else you wish to question me about?"

Ron sprang up, about to walk away without further word. But inside him a fight took place. That of pride against sense. In the end, he pushed his stupid pride away. "Actually, there's something I may ask of you. You see, there's this thing I want to try…"

As the words flowed out of him her smile turned a more amused one. Yet not one of mock, rather of interest. And she came to accept his proposal, much to his surprise.

"Oh, you are such a fool, Ronald!" she snickered. "But I like them fools. I will see it done, if possible. And if impossible, I will see to it nonetheless. See you soon, my dear untamed lion."

---

Ron calmly made his way through the open door. His slow stride and collected breathing gave an impression of impassiveness. Which he did not have at all. If someone could peek under his robes, they would see the hair on his forearms bristling against the woollen jersey; his heart hammering against his chest; and the cold sweat which dampened his skin.

Still he showed resolve, as he had been taught by Gerdnyaram.

Inside, in the familiar classroom of Defence, awaited Faith Gourcuff. The short woman was sitting in a chair, right under a window, as she read a book. The sunlight fell all over her, adding a touch of shine to her dark, unbraided hair. She did not bother to raise her eyes. "Oh, so you came. You are brave, child."

"Were you able to do it?" Ron asked politely.

At last she raised her eyes from the book. It was sheer offence that they showed. And he would've believed them, if not for the amused smirk she gave him. "Of course! Who do you think I am, child? It's right there. Waiting for its precious prey."

Her chin pointed at a tall closet at the end of the room, its wooden doors locked with chain and steel.

"Lupin also jailed it there," the redhead pointed out.

"Who wouldn't? It's the perfect spot. Maybe a dumbass would try to jail it in one's own room. But I'm not a dumbass. Are you?"

Ron let that slip and walked toward the closet. The hammering of his heartbeat became louder. For a moment he stilled in front of it, frozen. Almost scared. His eyes raised in search of Gerdnyaram. Yet she wasn't there, just as they'd agreed. This was something he needed to do alone. Though he found a bit of warmth in his wand, which allowed him to take another step forward.

"May I ask what happened last time you faced a Boggart?" Faith asked, not an ounce of amusement in her voice anymore.

"I could not face it," Ron said without turning back. "I ran away."

"And still you came back? You are bloody brave, Ronald."

"But, wasn't I a fool? So you called me a few days ago."

"Braveness and foolishness go hand by hand," the Professor grinned. "And so it goes for cowardice and intelligence. The key lies within drawing a line between them four. But one can seldom do it. To accomplish that would mean a feat far greater than any other."

He could but smile at that.

"Open it," Ron said then.

And the closet opened with a flick of her finger. From inside came darkness, a misty cloud so thick and deep it resembled a wall. But then it morphed, and a person came out of it. Tall, handsome and proud, Thomas Riddle was. "Hello, my dear Ronald," he smiled widely. "Long time no see."

Tom took a few steps toward the boy. "Oh, look at that. Are you not gonna run this time? Do you not fear me anymore? Oh, but silly me. For a time we were the best of friends! There is nothing to fear!" His cruel smirk brought a bunch of memories back to Ron. After all, it was the same Tom had worn when he'd petrified both Harry and he.

But still Ron did not move an inch. Nor did he flinch away when Tom's hand fell upon his shoulder, giving it a cold squeeze. "You are shameful," he found himself uttering. For a moment Tom was left confused. But not nearly as much as Ron was. "How could I run from you, sorry excuse of a monster?"

All Ron did was to shock his head in awe. And Tom flashed, and his hand no longer felt so heavy in his shoulder. Though he tightened his grip on the boy. "Shameful? You are shameful. You sold your friends. Betrayed them. Almost killed them. You were so blind by your ego and your need for glory that you could not see your sister's suffering. But, oh, here you stand once more. So brave now that you have earned their forgiveness. Yet you cannot forget all you did to them, right? And that brought you back to me. Because you are nothing without me, Ronald Weasley."

"They never came to forgive me, as they never came to blame me." Ron did not need to draw his wand out. A simple look of his eyes was enough to make the Boggart falter. Next he closed the distance between them, and the Boggart could but take a step back. "You are pathetic, simply as that. I have known true evil. I have allowed it to consume me. Granted it the key to my mind. One day I will come to face Him again, that I know. Only then will I settle my mind. Only then will I forgive myself."

Ron allowed himself a cold smile. "Now, begone."

Tom blinked, then his frame darkened. For a moment the Boggart did not seem to know what form to acquire. A bunch of hairy legs and crimson eyes appeared out of nowhere, but then Tom came back for a second. The shadow of a huge spider made an act of presence then, yet briefly. It fled into the closet with a loud shriek.

And silence came, at last.

He then turned around, just to find Faith back on her feet. "So, the Heir of Slytherin," she sighed. "I should have imagined it."

"How do you know it?" Ron said as he took a seat on the closest table at hand. For a reason he felt exhausted, even though it had been a short and easy fight.

"Whispers move swiftly within these walls," the Professor shrugged as she took a seat by his side. Their eyes fell upon the window and the waning Sun it showed. "The fainter, the further they spread. However, that's of no importance as of this moment. You've made it, Ronald. You've conquered your one fear."

"My one fear?" Ron snorted. "I wish."

"Then don't wish so loud, for it might become true," she replied. "When you showed the Boggart you did not fear the Heir of Slytherin anymore, it was left very confused. Lost, I dare to say. Then it tried to change its shape, into that of a spider, I believe. But it quickly realised you did not fear that either, therefore, its one and only skill was proved useless. Perhaps, once it was a true fear from your childhood, but not anymore."

"But I do fear many things," Ron observed.

"You may be scared of things, such as spiders," she went on. "You may feel repulsion toward others, or maybe hatred or sickness, or rage or worry. But fear is too powerful a word. Too powerful an emotion. Most likely, you will meet it again, as we all do. But you stand cold and fearless now. And that could be dangerous. Fear is but just another emotion, as necessary as love, sadness and happiness. It awakes in us the drive to survive, the drive to fight or run. It prevents us from being too reckless. But for that, we need to learn to control fear. Not the other way around."

Ron gave those words a thought, and he found much sense within them. Still he doubted what she had just said could be true. There was no way he had become so cold he did not fear anything anymore. Had it all been drowned in rage? He refused to believe so.

He finally stood up, "Thank you, really. For everything."

She did not utter a word until he was about to exit the classroom. "Will I see you this Sunday? I'm afraid I've become too fond of your dry humour and lack of respect. Besides, there's far too many brats for me to keep an eye on."

Ron gave away the hint of a smile, though she didn't come to see it. "You bet so. Wouldn't miss those lectures for anything in the world."