Chapter 35: Eye of the Snake

November 24, 2002 – Sunday

Gryffindor Common Room

Hagrid had finally come back from wherever it was he had been. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Dawn had snuck down to his cabin and learned that he had gone to see the Giants. Then Umbridge had shown up with Buffy. After that, Hermione and Dawn took it upon themselves to try and make sure Hagrid didn't do anything to get himself dismissed, as Umbridge was trying to do with undesirable teachers.

Hermione and Dawn had ploughed their way to Hagrid's cabin through two feet of snow on Sunday morning. The landscape was a blanket of pristine white, the air biting and crisp, their breaths puffing out in visible clouds. They returned just before lunch, shivering slightly, their robes damp to the knees, and their faces tinged with a rosy flush from the cold.

"So?" said Ron, looking up when they entered, his eyebrows raised in anticipation. "Got all his lessons planned for him?"

"Well, we tried," Hermione said dully, her voice heavy with frustration. She pulled out her wand and gave it a complicated little wave so that hot air streamed out of the tip; she then pointed this at her robes, which began to steam as they dried out. She then turned her wand on Dawn and dried her robes also, the steam rising in wisps around them.

"He wasn't even there when we arrived; we were knocking for at least half an hour. And then he came stumping out of the Forest—" Dawn said, her tone a mix of exasperation and worry.

Harry groaned, rubbing his temples. "What's he keeping in there? Did he say?"

"No," said Hermione miserably, her shoulders slumping. "He said he wants them to be a surprise. I tried to explain about Umbridge, but he just doesn't get it. He kept saying nobody in their right mind would rather study Knarls than Chimaeras—oh, I don't think he's got a Chimaera, but that's not for lack of trying, from what he said about how hard it is to get eggs."

Dawn nodded, her face reflecting Hermione's concern. "I don't know how many times we told him he'd be better off following Grubbly-Plank's plan. I honestly don't think he listened to half of what we said. He's in a bit of a funny mood, you know. He still won't say how he got all those injuries."

It was with a certain amount of apprehension that Harry, Dawn, Ron, and Hermione headed down to Hagrid's on Tuesday, heavily muffled against the cold. The sky was a leaden gray, promising more snow, and the chill seeped through their layers of clothing.

November 26, 2002 – Tuesday

Forbidden Forest

Harry, Ron, Dawn, and Hermione headed down to Hagrid's on Tuesday, heavily muffled against the cold. The snow crunched under their boots, and their breaths formed little clouds in the frosty air. Dawn was worried, not only about what Hagrid might have decided to teach them, but also about how the rest of the class, particularly Malfoy and his cronies, would behave if Umbridge was watching them. The thought of Umbridge's beady eyes and tight-lipped smile made her shiver more than the cold, and she couldn't shake the feeling of impending trouble.

However, the High Inquisitor was nowhere to be seen as they struggled through the snow toward Hagrid, who stood waiting for them on the edge of the forest. He did not present a reassuring sight; the bruises that had been purple on Saturday night were now tinged with green and yellow, and some of his cuts still seemed to be bleeding, oozing slowly against his rugged skin.

Hagrid was carrying what looked like half a dead cow over his shoulder. The carcass hung limply, its exposed flesh a stark contrast against the whiteness of the snow.

"We're workin' in here today!" Hagrid called happily to the approaching students, jerking his head back at the dark trees behind him. "Bit more sheltered! Anyway, they prefer the dark."

"What prefers the dark?" Malfoy said sharply to Crabbe and Goyle, a trace of panic in his voice. "What did he say prefers the dark — did you hear?"

"Ready?" said Hagrid happily, looking around at the class. His eyes twinkled with excitement despite his battered appearance. "Right, well, I've bin savin' a trip inter the Forest fer yer fifth year. Thought we'd go an' see these creatures in their natural habitat. Now, what we're studyin' today is pretty rare, I reckon I'm probably the on'y person in Britain who's managed ter train 'em."

"And you're sure they're trained, are you?" said Malfoy, the panic in his voice even more pronounced. His pale face looked almost ghostly against the snowy backdrop. "Only it wouldn't be the first time you'd brought wild stuff to class, would it?"

The Slytherins murmured agreement and a few Gryffindors looked as though they thought Malfoy had a fair point too. There was a nervous shifting among the students, their eyes flicking from Hagrid to the ominous darkness of the forest.

"Course they're trained," said Hagrid, scowling and hoisting the dead cow a little higher on his shoulder. His expression was a mix of determination and defensiveness, clearly feeling the weight of the students' doubts.

"So what happened to your face, then?" demanded Malfoy, his voice tinged with suspicion and a hint of malicious satisfaction.

"Mind yer own business!" said Hagrid angrily. "Now, if yeh've finished askin' stupid questions, follow me!" He turned and strode straight into the forest. His massive form seemed to blend with the shadows, creating an imposing silhouette against the darkening wood. Nobody seemed much disposed to follow. Harry and Dawn glanced at Ron and Hermione, who sighed but nodded, and the four of them set off after Hagrid, leading the rest of the class.

They walked for about ten minutes, the forest growing denser with each step, until they reached a place where the trees stood so closely together that it was as dark as twilight and there was no snow on the ground at all. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves, and an eerie silence enveloped them. Hagrid deposited his half a cow with a grunt on the ground, the carcass landing with a heavy thud. He stepped back and turned to face his class again, most of whom were creeping toward him from tree to tree, peering around nervously as though expecting to be set upon at any moment.

"Gather roun', gather roun'," Hagrid encouraged, his voice echoing slightly in the stillness. "Now, they'll be attracted by the smell o' the meat, but I'm going ter give 'em a call anyway, 'cause they'll like ter know it's me."

He turned, shook his shaggy head to get the hair out of his face, and gave an odd, shrieking cry that echoed through the dark trees like the call of some monstrous bird. The sound was chilling, slicing through the forest air with a haunting resonance. Nobody laughed; most of them looked too scared to make a sound, their eyes wide and breaths held.

Hagrid gave the shrieking cry again. A minute passed in which the class continued to peer nervously over their shoulders and around trees for a first glimpse of whatever it was that was coming. The forest seemed to hold its breath, the usual rustlings and distant calls of wildlife eerily absent. And then, as Hagrid shook his hair back for a third time and expanded his enormous chest, Dawn nudged Hermione and pointed into the black space between two gnarled yew trees.

A pair of blank, white, shining eyes were growing larger through the gloom, and a moment later, the dragonish face, neck, and then skeletal body of a great, black, winged horse emerged from the darkness. Its eyes were like cold orbs of moonlight, unblinking and otherworldly. It looked around at the class for a few seconds, swishing its long black tail, then bowed its head and began to tear flesh from the dead cow with its pointed fangs. The ripping sound was disturbingly loud in the quiet of the forest.

Dawn looked eagerly at Harry and Ron. She could tell Harry too could see them, but Ron was still staring around into the trees, his expression bewildered. After a few seconds, Ron whispered, "Why doesn't Hagrid call again?"

Most of the rest of the class were wearing expressions as confused and nervously expectant as Ron's, their eyes darting around as if they might catch a glimpse of the mysterious creatures they could not see. Only five people seemed able to see the Thestrals: a stringy Slytherin boy standing just behind Goyle, who was watching the horse eating with an expression of great distaste on his face; Neville, whose eyes were following the swishing progress of the long black tail; Harry; Dawn; and Hermione. The rest continued to peer anxiously into the darkness, oblivious to the spectral horse standing mere feet from them.

"Oh, an' here comes another one!" said Hagrid proudly, as a second black horse appeared out of the dark trees. Its leathery wings folded closer to its body, and it dipped its head to gorge on the meat, joining the first Thestral with a guttural snarl. "Now… put yer hands up, who can see 'em?"

Harry, Dawn, Hermione, and Neville raised their hands, their expressions a mix of curiosity and unease.

"Yeah... yeah, I knew you'd be able ter, Harry," Hagrid said seriously, his voice tinged with a mixture of sorrow and understanding. "Didn't know about you Hermione, or you Dawn. An' you too, Neville, eh? An' —"

"Excuse me," said Malfoy in a sneering voice, his pale face twisted with disdain, "but what exactly are we supposed to be seeing?"

For an answer, Hagrid pointed at the cow carcass on the ground. The whole class stared at it for a few seconds, their eyes widening as realization set in. Then several people gasped, and Parvati squealed, retreating with a frightened expression.

Dawn understood why: Bits of flesh were stripping themselves away from the bones and vanishing into thin air, creating a disturbing and surreal spectacle. The invisible Thestrals' ravenous feeding left the carcass mysteriously dismantled.

"What's doing it?" Parvati demanded in a terrified voice, retreating further behind the nearest tree. "What's eating it?"

"Thestrals," said Hagrid proudly, his broad smile contrasting with the eerie scene before them.

Hermione looked at Dawn, her eyes lighting up with sudden comprehension. "Oh!"

Dawn thought for a moment, racking her brain for where she had heard the name before. Then it dawned on her. She remembered reading about them over the summer. Only those who had seen death could see Thestrals. She understood now why she and Buffy could see them. Both of them had seen death, in the form of their mother dying.

Dawn looked to Hermione, her eyes searching for understanding. "When have you seen death?"

"When I jumped," Hermione responded, her voice soft and reflective.

Dawn's eyes went wide with realization. 'Of course,' she thought. Hermione had witnessed her own death when she had willingly sacrificed herself for Dawn. It was why Hermione could see the Thestrals now.

"Hogwarts has got a whole herd of 'em in here. Now, who knows — ?" Hagrid said, his voice brimming with enthusiasm.

"But they're really, really unlucky!" interrupted Parvati, looking alarmed. Her eyes were wide, her voice trembling slightly as she continued, "They're supposed to bring all sorts of horrible misfortune on people who see them. Professor Trelawney told me once—"

"No, no, no," said Hagrid, chuckling, his laughter resonating through the stillness of the forest. "Tha's jus' superstition, that is. They aren' unlucky, they're dead clever an' useful! Course, this lot don' get a lot o' work, it's mainly jus' pullin' the school carriages unless Dumbledore's takin' a long journey an' don' want ter Apparate — an' here's another couple, look —"

Two more Thestrals emerged quietly from the dark trees, their skeletal forms and bat-like wings casting eerie shadows in the dim light. One of them passed very close to Parvati, who shivered and pressed herself closer to the tree, her breath hitching. "I think I felt something, I think it's near me!" she whispered, eyes darting nervously.

"Don' worry, it won' hurt yeh," said Hagrid patiently, his tone reassuring despite the uncanny presence of the creatures. "Righ', now, who can tell me why some o' yeh can see 'em an' some can't?"

Dawn and Hermione raised their hands, their expressions reflecting a blend of understanding and gravity.

"Dawn, go on then," said Hagrid, beaming at her with pride and encouragement.

"The only people who can see Thestrals," Dawn said, her voice steady and clear, "are people who have seen death."

"Tha's exactly right," said Hagrid solemnly, nodding with approval. "Ten points ter Gryffindor. Now, Thestrals —"

"Hem, hem." The sudden, sugary cough of Professor Umbridge sliced through the air, silencing Hagrid. She was standing a few feet away from Dawn, wearing her signature green hat and cloak, her eyes glittering with disapproval as she clutched her clipboard tightly. Her presence felt like a cold shadow descending upon the group, her tight-lipped smile failing to hide her true intentions.

Hagrid, who had never heard Umbridge's fake cough before, was gazing in some concern at the closest Thestral, evidently under the impression that it had made the sound.

"Hem, hem," Umbridge said again, her voice dripping with false sweetness.

"Oh, hello!" Hagrid said, smiling broadly as he located the source of the noise. His face lit up with his usual warmth, but there was a hint of confusion in his eyes.

"You received the note I sent to your cabin this morning?" Umbridge continued in the same loud, slow voice she had used with him earlier, as though she was addressing somebody both foreign and very slow. Her tone was condescending, each word pronounced with exaggerated clarity. "Telling you that I would be inspecting your lesson?"

"Oh, yeah," said Hagrid brightly, his smile unwavering. "Glad yeh found the place all righ'! Well, as you can see — or, I dunno — can you? We're doin' Thestrals today —"

"I'm sorry?" said Umbridge loudly, cupping her hand around her ear and frowning with mock confusion. "What did you say?"

Hagrid looked a little confused, his brows knitting together as he tried to comprehend her reaction. "Er — Thestrals!" he said loudly. "Big — er — winged horses, yeh know!" He flapped his gigantic arms hopefully, trying to illustrate his point with broad, sweeping gestures.

Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows at him, her lips curling into a disdainful smirk. She muttered as she made a note on her clipboard: "Has... to... resort... to... crude... sign... language."

Hagrid's cheeks flushed slightly, a rare sign of embarrassment. "Well... anyway..." he said, turning back to the class and looking slightly flustered. "Erm... what was I sayin'?"

"Appears... to... have... poor... short... term... memory," muttered Umbridge, loudly enough for everyone to hear her. Her voice carried an edge of malicious satisfaction, as though she relished every moment of belittling Hagrid. Draco Malfoy looked as though Christmas had come a month early, a triumphant smirk plastered across his face; Dawn and Hermione, on the other hand, had turned scarlet with suppressed rage, their fists clenched in indignation.

"Oh, yeah," said Hagrid, throwing an uneasy glance at Umbridge's clipboard, but plowing on valiantly. His large hands gestured toward the Thestral as he spoke, his voice filled with affection for the creatures. "Yeah, I was gonna tell yeh how come we got a herd. Yeah, so, we started off with a male an' five females. This one," he patted the first horse to have appeared, its sleek, dark body gleaming faintly in the dim light, "name o' Tenebrus, he's my special favourite, firs' one born here in the Forest —"

"Are you aware," Umbridge said loudly, interrupting him, her voice cutting through the air like a knife, "that the Ministry of Magic has classified Thestrals as dangerous?"

Dawn exchanged a worried glance with Hermione. They knew what was likely coming now. Hagrid would probably be on probation soon, his teaching methods and choice of creatures scrutinized and criticized.

Hagrid merely chuckled, though there was a nervous edge to his laughter. "Thestrals aren' dangerous! All righ', they might take a bite outta yeh if yeh really annoy them —"

"Shows... signs... of… pleasure... at... idea... of… violence," muttered Umbridge, scribbling furiously on her clipboard, her eyes gleaming with a sort of malicious delight.

Dawn shook her head in frustration. She intended to talk to Buffy that evening about how they could help Hagrid.

"No — come on!" said Hagrid, looking a little anxious now, his eyes darting from Umbridge to the students. "I mean, a dog'll bite if yeh bait it, won' it — but Thestrals have jus' got a bad reputation because o' the death thing — people used ter think they were bad omens, didn' they? Jus' didn' understand, did they?"

Dawn raised her hand, her expression resolute.

Hagrid nodded, "Yes, Dawn."

Dawn turned to Umbridge, her voice calm but firm. "Professor Umbridge, Thestrals are not dangerous, despite the Ministry deeming them so. This is my second year at Hogwarts, and I've seen them both years pulling the carriages. One of the fourth years in Ravenclaw told me she had seen them since her first year. Which means they have been here that long at least. If they have been here that long and they're dangerous, wouldn't Professor Dumbledore have put a stop to using them in pulling the carriages?"

Umbridge did not answer, ignoring Dawn; she finished writing her last note, then looked up at Hagrid and said, again very loudly and slowly, "Please continue teaching as usual. I am going to walk"—she mimed walking, her exaggerated movements drawing muffled laughter from Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson—"among the students"—she pointed around at individual members of the class—"and ask them questions." She pointed at her mouth to indicate talking.

Hagrid stared at her, clearly at a complete loss to understand why she was acting as though he did not comprehend normal English. Dawn and Hermione had tears of fury in their eyes now, their fists clenched at their sides.

"You hag, you evil hag!" Hermione whispered too low for Umbridge to hear, her voice trembling with suppressed rage. "I know what you're doing, you awful, twisted, vicious—"

Dawn nodded in agreement with her twin, her expression equally fierce.

"Erm... anyway," said Hagrid, clearly struggling to regain the flow of his lesson, "so — Thestrals. Yeah. Well, there are loads o' good stuff abou' them…"

"Do you find," said Professor Umbridge in a ringing voice to Pansy Parkinson, "that you are able to understand Professor Hagrid when he talks?"

Just like Dawn and Hermione, Pansy had tears in her eyes, but these were tears of laughter; indeed, her answer was almost incoherent because she was trying to suppress her giggles. "No... because... well... it sounds... like grunting a lot of the time..." Pansy said, her voice quivering with barely-contained mirth.

Umbridge scribbled on her clipboard, her smile widening with each note. The few unbruised bits of Hagrid's face flushed, but he tried to act as though he had not heard Pansy's answer. "Er... yeah... good stuff abou' Thestrals. Well, once they're tamed, like this lot, yeh'll never be lost again. 'Mazin' sense o' direction, jus' tell 'em where yeh want ter go —" Hagrid said, his voice growing more enthusiastic as he spoke about the creatures he loved.

"Assuming they can understand you, of course," said Malfoy loudly, and Pansy Parkinson collapsed in a fit of renewed giggles, her laughter ringing through the clearing.

Professor Umbridge smiled indulgently and then turned to Neville, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You can see the Thestrals, Longbottom, can you?" she asked, her voice dripping with condescension. Neville nodded hesitantly. "Who did you see die?" she inquired, her tone devoid of any genuine concern or empathy.

Neville's face went pale, and he hesitated. "My… my grandad," he said quietly, his voice trembling slightly.

"And what do you think of them?" Umbridge said, waving her stubby hand at the Thestrals, who by now had stripped a great deal of the carcass down to bone, their dark forms stark against the snowy background.

"Erm," said Neville nervously, glancing at Hagrid for reassurance. "Well, they're... er... OK..." His voice was small and uncertain.

"Students... are... too... intimidated... to... admit... they... are... frightened," muttered Umbridge, making another note on her clipboard, her expression one of cold satisfaction.

"No!" said Neville, looking upset and frustrated. "No, I'm not scared of them!" His cheeks flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment.

"It's quite all right," said Umbridge, patting Neville's shoulder in a condescending manner. "Well, Hagrid," she turned to look up at him again, her smile icy and insincere, "I think I've got enough to be getting along with. You will receive the results of your inspection in ten days' time." She finished her statement with a sharp nod and then bustled from their midst, her heels crunching on the frosty ground as she departed.

Hermione looked at Dawn and mouthed, 'Buffy, tonight.' Her eyes were alight with a fierce determination.

Dawn nodded in agreement, her own resolve hardening.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

"That foul, lying, twisting old gargoyle!" stormed Hermione half an hour later, as they trudged back up to the castle through the snow. Her voice was filled with a rare intensity of anger, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright with fury. "You see what she's up to? It's her thing about half-breeds all over again — she's trying to make out Hagrid's some kind of dimwitted troll, just because he had a giantess for a mother — and, oh, it's not fair, that really wasn't a bad lesson at all. I mean, all right, if it had been Blast-Ended Skrewts again, but Thestrals are fine — in fact, for Hagrid, they're really good!"

Dawn nodded, her face set in determined lines. "Hermione and I are going to talk to Buffy tonight about it. Though I doubt she could do much without blowing her cover."

"Umbridge said they're dangerous," said Ron, his brow furrowed in confusion and concern.

Dawn sighed, her breath forming a mist in the cold air. "And as I said, they're safe. They've been pulling the carriages since I arrived here last year, Ron. Luna said she could see them since she was a first year. I doubt Professor Dumbledore would continue to let them pull the carriages if they were dangerous."

"I suppose a teacher like Grubbly-Plank wouldn't usually show them to us before NEWT level," Hermione added thoughtfully, "but, well, they are very interesting, aren't they? The way some people can see them and some can't!"

Harry turned to Hermione, his curiosity piqued. "Why do you, Hermione?" he asked quietly, recalling she had raised her hand during Hagrid's lesson. "When did you see death?"

Hermione sighed deeply, her breath hitching slightly as she prepared to share a painful memory. "When I jumped from the tower intending to sacrifice myself for Dawn. I knew at that point I was going to die. And so you can see I can see Thestrals because I saw death in a more personal way than you or Dawn have. As it was my own death I was witnessing."

Harry looked at Hermione for a moment, the weight of her words sinking in. Neither Hermione nor Dawn had told him or Ron the full details of what had happened in Sunnydale. They had just known Dawn was safe, and at the time, that had been all that mattered. "I'm sorry, Hermione," he said softly, his eyes filled with empathy.

"It's okay, Harry." Hermione smiled at her friend, though the sadness lingered in her eyes.

"I'm surprised so many people could see them," said Ron, his brow furrowed in thought. "Four in a class —"

Dawn sighed, the weight of her experiences making her voice heavy. "Well, I can see them because Buffy and I found our mom when she died," she began, her eyes reflecting a distant sorrow. "Buffy can see them because she's the Slayer. She sees death all the time in what she does as the Slayer. Harry probably can see them because he and I watched as Cedric was killed right in front of us."

Ron nodded slowly, digesting this information. The air was thick with unspoken grief and the shared burden of their pasts. Dawn's revelation cast a somber pall over the group, each of them lost in their own memories of loss and confrontation with mortality.

December 18, 2002 – Wednesday

Room of Requirement

December arrived, bringing with it more snow and a positive avalanche of homework for the fifth-years. The castle grounds were blanketed in white, the cold air crisp and biting. Inside, the warmth of the common rooms was a welcome refuge from the relentless winter chill.

Ron and Hermione's prefect duties also became more and more onerous as Christmas approached, their schedules packed with patrols and meetings. Dawn hung out with them as much as her studies allowed, despite Hermione's insistence that she didn't have to. Dawn's presence was a comforting constant amidst the whirlwind of responsibilities, her quiet determination and unwavering support a balm to their frazzled nerves.

This Christmas, Hermione was going skiing with her adopted parents. The Grangers had even invited Buffy and Dawn to come with them. The invitation had been a welcome surprise, and the Summers' sisters had immediately said yes, thrilled at the prospect of a holiday filled with snow and laughter rather than the usual chaos.

The excitement of the upcoming trip added a buzz of anticipation to their days, a light at the end of the tunnel of endless assignments and prefect duties. But before they could think about holidays, there was still work to be done.

Harry was the first to arrive in the Room of Requirement for their last DA meeting before the holidays, the familiar space morphing to accommodate the needs of the group. The room was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the icy corridors of the castle. He was followed shortly by Luna, her dreamy expression and ethereal presence bringing a touch of whimsy to the room. Then came Angelina, Katie, and Alicia, their faces set with determination.

"Well," said Angelina dully, "we've finally replaced you."

"Replaced me?" said Harry blankly, a frown creasing his forehead.

"You and Fred and George," Angelina said impatiently. "We've got another Seeker!"

"Who?" said Harry quickly, his interest piqued.

"Dawn Summers," said Katie, a hint of pride in her voice.

Harry gaped at her, his surprise evident. Dawn had always been athletic and quick, but he hadn't expected her to take up Quidditch so soon.

"Yeah, I know," said Angelina, catching Harry's expression, "but she's pretty good, actually. Nothing on you, of course, but as we can't have you…"

"And what about the Beaters?" Harry asked, trying to keep his voice even, though a hint of concern laced his tone.

"Andrew Kirke," said Alicia without enthusiasm, "and Jack Sloper. Neither of them are brilliant, but compared to the rest of the idiots who turned up…"

The conversation was cut short by the arrival of Ron, Dawn, Hermione, and Neville, their chatter filling the room. Harry walked over to Dawn and hugged her tightly, the warmth of his embrace a comforting gesture amid the chaos of their lives.

"I'm glad it was you," Harry said, pulling back to look at her.

Dawn looked at Harry, confused. "What?"

"Seeker. Angelina just told me. I'm glad it was you who got picked for Seeker," Harry explained, his eyes shining with pride.

Dawn blushed, a faint pink tint spreading across her cheeks. "Thanks, Harry. But I'm only filling in while you're sidelined. Once you're back, I will gladly give it to you. I wanted to be a Chaser anyway."

Hermione rolled her eyes at her sister, a mix of exasperation and fondness. "Just promise me you will be careful," she said, her voice tinged with concern.

Dawn nodded, her expression serious. "I will."

Harry smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I have a surprise for you. For the rest of the season, you can use my Firebolt. Then next year, if you want to continue playing Quidditch, I'll help you get your own."

Dawn's face lit up with a brilliant smile, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Thanks, Harry," she said, her voice filled with gratitude and joy.

Five minutes later, everyone was finally gathered in the Room of Requirement.

"OK," Harry said, calling them all to order. "I thought this evening we should just go over the things we've done so far, because it's the last meeting before the holidays and there's no point starting anything new right before a three-week break—"

"We're not doing anything new?" said Zacharias Smith, his voice tinged with disappointment. "If I'd known that, I wouldn't have come."

"We're all really sorry Harry didn't tell you, then," said Fred loudly, a sarcastic edge to his tone.

"—we can practice in pairs," continued Harry, ignoring the interruption. "We'll start with the Impediment Jinx for ten minutes, and then we can get out the cushions and try Stunning again."

The members of the DA divided up obediently; Hermione and Dawn paired up as usual. The room was soon filled with intermittent cries of "Impedimenta!" as students practiced the jinx.

Hermione smiled at Dawn, who had significantly improved in her spellwork over the weeks since the DA started. She was confident that Dawn would pass her OWLs with no problems anymore. Some instructors had even mentioned that Hermione's influence had rubbed off on Dawn, but Hermione wasn't so sure. She believed Dawn had simply come into her own. Hermione was proud that in just over a year, Dawn had come so far. Though Buffy didn't show it in front of Umbridge, Hermione knew that she too was proud of what Dawn had accomplished.

"You're getting really good," Harry said, beaming around at them. "When we get back from the holidays, we can start doing some of the big stuff — maybe even Patronuses."

There was a murmur of excitement at this prospect. The room began to clear in the usual twos and threes; most people wished each other a 'Happy Christmas' as they left. Feeling cheerful, Harry collected up the cushions with Ron, Dawn, and Hermione and stacked them neatly away.

Ron, Dawn, and Hermione chatted animatedly as they finished tidying up. The anticipation of the holidays and the progress they had made with the DA filled them with a warm sense of accomplishment. As they headed out, leaving Harry to lock up, their laughter echoed softly in the now quiet room, a testament to the strong bond they shared and the brighter days they hoped for.

Gryffindor Common Room

Harry returned to the common room half an hour later to find Dawn, Hermione, and Ron occupying the best seats by the fire; nearly everybody else had gone to bed. The flickering flames cast a warm, golden glow over the room, making the shadows dance on the walls and giving it a cozy, inviting atmosphere. The warmth from the hearth wrapped around him like a comforting blanket, a stark contrast to the chill that had settled deep in his bones.

Hermione was deeply engrossed in writing a very long letter, her quill scratching busily across the parchment. The table beside her was cluttered with ink bottles and crumpled bits of parchment. She had already filled half a roll of parchment, which now dangled precariously from the edge of the table, fluttering slightly in the gentle draft. Dawn, leaning in close, was reading over Hermione's shoulder, occasionally offering a piece of advice or a suggestion. Her eyes, a mirror of Hermione's, sparkled with interest as she pointed out something on the parchment.

Ron was sprawled on the hearthrug, his Transfiguration homework spread out around him. His brow was furrowed in concentration, and he occasionally muttered to himself as he scribbled notes in the margins of his textbook. The flickering firelight highlighted the frustration etched on his face.

"What kept you?" he asked, as Harry sank into the armchair next to Hermione's. The cushions embraced him, and the warmth of the fire began to seep into his bones, soothing the tension in his muscles.

Harry did not answer. He was in a state of shock. Half of him wanted to tell Ron, Dawn, and Hermione what had just happened, but the other half wanted to take the secret with him to the grave. His mind was a tumultuous sea of conflicting emotions, and he couldn't decide which wave to ride.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Hermione asked, peering at him over the tip of her quill. Her eyes, full of concern, searched his face for any clue as to what was troubling him.

Harry gave a halfhearted shrug. In truth, he didn't know whether he was all right or not. His thoughts were tangled, and he felt as if he were standing on the edge of a precipice, unsure whether to step back or leap forward.

"What's up?" said Dawn, her eyes filled with curiosity and concern. She leaned forward slightly, her gaze never leaving his face.

"What's happened?" Ron pressed, his brow furrowed with worry. He had set aside his homework, his attention now fully focused on Harry.

Harry didn't quite know how to set about telling them, and still wasn't sure whether he wanted to. Just as he had decided not to say anything, Hermione took matters out of his hands. She knew how much Dawn cared for Harry, but her concern for her friend outweighed her love for her sister and protecting Dawn's emotions.

"Is it Cho?" she asked in a businesslike way. "Did she corner you after the meeting?"

Numbly surprised, Harry nodded. The memory of the encounter with Cho played back in his mind, and he felt a fresh wave of confusion wash over him. Ron sniggered, breaking off when Hermione caught his eye with a stern look.

"So — er — what did she want?" Dawn asked, her voice tinged with jealousy despite her best efforts to hide it. Her fingers clenched the edge of the table, knuckles whitening.

"She—" Harry began, rather hoarsely; he cleared his throat and tried again. "She — er —"

"Did you kiss?" asked Hermione briskly, her eyes widening with curiosity.

Dawn glared at her twin, a knot tightening in her stomach. It was something she didn't really want to hear.

Ron sat up so fast that he sent his ink bottle flying, splattering black droplets all over the rug. The dark stain spread quickly, but Ron disregarded it completely as he stared avidly at Harry. "Well?" he demanded, leaning forward eagerly, his eyes wide with anticipation.

Harry looked from Ron's expression of mingled curiosity and hilarity to Hermione's slight frown, her brow furrowed in contemplation, and finally lingered on Dawn's furious expression. The anger in her eyes made his stomach twist uncomfortably, a knot of guilt and confusion tightening within him. He nodded.

"HA!" Ron made a triumphant gesture with his fist and went into a raucous peal of laughter that made several timid-looking second years over beside the window jump. His laughter echoed through the room, bouncing off the stone walls. A reluctant grin spread over Harry's face as he watched Ron rolling around on the hearthrug, clutching his sides.

Hermione gave Ron a look of deep disgust, her lips pressed into a thin line, before turning to her sister with compassion. She knew Dawn liked Harry and understood the hurt she must be feeling. Pretending to return to her letter, Hermione leaned closer to Dawn and whispered, "You really should tell him how you feel." Her voice was soft, barely audible over Ron's laughter, but it carried a weight of sincerity.

Dawn looked to Hermione, her eyes filled with uncertainty and pain. She knew Hermione was right, but the thought of Harry and Cho together made her heart ache, a dull, persistent throb that wouldn't subside. She wasn't sure what she should do. Would she be ruining a friendship by saying something and possibly coming between Harry and Cho? Or would Harry admit he liked her too? These questions swirled in her mind like a storm, leaving her feeling more confused than ever. She knew she had to work that out before she could approach Harry.

"Well?" Ron said finally, looking up at Harry with an expectant grin. "How was it?"

Harry considered for a moment, recalling the awkward and emotional encounter. "Wet," he said truthfully, his voice flat and devoid of emotion.

Dawn let out a hmph, her face a mask of frustration, and then marched up the stairs to the girls' dormitory. Her footsteps echoed loudly in the sudden silence, each step a hammering reminder of the tension in the room. Harry, Ron, and Hermione watched her retreat in silence, the crackling of the fire the only sound.

"Because she was crying," Harry continued heavily, his voice thick with confusion and a hint of guilt. He then looked to Hermione. "What's up with Dawn?"

Hermione sighed, her eyes shifting from Harry to the staircase leading to the girls' dormitory. "It's between you and Dawn, Harry. I'm not getting in between. But you should talk to her." Her tone was gentle but firm, urging Harry to confront the issue head-on.

"Oh," said Ron, his smile fading slightly. "Are you that bad at kissing?"

"Dunno," said Harry, who hadn't considered this, and immediately felt rather worried. His mind raced with self-doubt, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Maybe I should."

"Of course you're not," said Hermione absently, her attention split between the conversation and her concern for her sister.

"How do you know?" said Ron in a sharp voice, his frustration evident as he leaned forward, narrowing his eyes at Hermione.

"I'm not getting in between," Hermione said again, more firmly this time, a protective edge to her voice as she glanced toward the staircase where Dawn had disappeared.

Ron huffed, deciding to shift the focus of the conversation. "So Hermione, who're you writing the novel to?" he asked, attempting a casual tone but failing to mask his irritation.

"Viktor," Hermione said curtly, her eyes flicking back to her parchment as she dipped her quill in the ink bottle.

"Krum?" Ron asked, his tone tinged with jealousy and surprise. His face reddened slightly, and he clenched his fists in his lap.

Hermione sighed, exasperated. "How many other Viktors do we know?" Her eyes rolled slightly as she resumed writing, the quill scratching busily against the parchment.

Ron said nothing, but his expression turned disgruntled, a shadow of irritation crossing his face. He stared into the fire, the flames reflecting in his eyes, deepening his scowl.

"Well, night," said Hermione, faking a yawn and stretching her arms above her head. She gathered her parchment and quill, using the excuse to go and make sure Dawn was alright. As she moved toward the staircase, she cast a final, concerned glance at Harry, hoping he would take her advice to heart. The warm glow of the fire dimmed slightly as she ascended the stairs, leaving Harry and Ron in a thick, contemplative silence.

Hermione found Dawn sitting on her bed, her arms crossed and her eyes fixed on the far wall. The room was dimly lit by the small lamp on the bedside table, casting long shadows that seemed to mirror the heavy mood hanging in the air. The soft glow of the lamp accentuated the tear tracks on Dawn's cheeks, making her look even more vulnerable.

"Dawn," Hermione said softly as she approached her sister, her heart aching at the sight. "Are you okay?"

Dawn turned to face Hermione, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her voice. "I don't know, Hermione. I just... I didn't want to hear about Harry kissing Cho." Her voice wavered, the pain of unspoken emotions threatening to break through.

Hermione sat down beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, the familiar warmth of her sister's embrace providing a small comfort. "I know it's hard, Dawn. But you can't keep bottling up your feelings." Her voice was gentle yet firm, trying to guide her sister through the turmoil.

Dawn sniffed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, her shoulders trembling slightly. "I know. But it's not that easy. Harry likes Cho, and I don't want to get in the way of that. What if he doesn't feel the same way about me? What if it ruins our friendship?" Her words tumbled out, each one laden with fear and uncertainty.

Hermione gave her a reassuring squeeze, her fingers lightly tracing comforting circles on Dawn's shoulder. "You won't know until you talk to him. Keeping it inside will only make it harder. And if Harry is the friend we know him to be, he'll handle it with care." Her voice was soothing, filled with the wisdom of someone who had faced similar struggles.

Dawn sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I guess you're right. It's just... scary. I don't want to lose him." Her voice was a mere whisper, the fear of rejection looming large in her mind.

"You won't," Hermione said firmly, her eyes locked onto Dawn's, willing her to believe it. "Harry cares about you, Dawn. Maybe not in the way you hope right now, but he does care. And no matter what happens, you still have us, and you still have him as a friend." Her words were a lifeline, offering hope amidst the sea of doubt.

Dawn nodded slowly, her resolve strengthening a bit. "Thanks, Hermione. I'll think about it. Maybe I will talk to him." Her voice held a tentative note of determination, the first step towards confronting her feelings.

Hermione smiled, brushing a strand of hair away from Dawn's face, her touch light and affectionate. "Good. Now, let's get some sleep. Tomorrow's a new day, and who knows? Maybe things will look a little brighter." Her smile was encouraging, a promise of better things to come.

Dawn managed a small smile, the corners of her lips lifting ever so slightly. "Yeah, maybe. Good night, Hermione."

"Good night, Dawn," Hermione said, giving her one last hug before heading to her own bed. The room gradually fell silent, the soft rustling of sheets and the steady rhythm of their breathing the only sounds, as the sisters drifted off to sleep, hopeful for what the new day might bring.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

That night, Hermione dreamed.

Her body felt smooth, powerful, and flexible. She was gliding between shining metal bars, across dark, cold stone... she was flat against the floor, sliding along on her belly... it was dark, yet she could see objects around her shimmering in strange, vibrant colors... she was turning her head... at first glance, the corridor was empty... but no... a man was sitting on the floor ahead, his chin drooping onto his chest, his outline gleaming in the dark... Hermione put out her tongue... she tasted the man's scent on the air... he was alive but drowsy... sitting in front of a door at the end of the corridor...

Hermione longed to bite the man... but she must master the impulse... she had more important work to do...

But the man was stirring... a silver Cloak fell from his legs as he jumped to his feet; and Hermione saw his vibrant, blurred outline towering above her, saw a wand withdrawn from a belt... she had no choice... she reared high from the floor and struck once, twice, three times, plunging her fangs deeply into the man's flesh, feeling his ribs splinter beneath her jaws, feeling the warm gush of blood...

The man was yelling in pain... then he fell silent... he slumped backwards against the wall... blood was splattering onto the floor...

December 19, 2002 – Thursday

Gryffindor Tower

Hermione sat straight up in bed, her heart pounding wildly as she looked around. For a moment she wasn't sure where she was. The dim glow from the moonlight filtering through the curtains cast eerie shadows in the room, making familiar objects seem foreign and menacing. Her breathing was rapid, her hands trembling. The dream had felt so real, so vivid, it was as if she had been living another life.

She got up, her mind still reeling from the vivid imagery of her dream, and made her way to Dawn's bed, shaking her gently awake. "Dawn."

Dawn groggily opened her eyes and looked at her twin, confusion etched on her face. She squinted against the darkness, her voice thick with sleep. "What? What time is it?"

"Late. Dawn, I have to ask you. You said Buffy gets prophetic dreams, right?" Hermione's voice was a mixture of urgency and anxiety, her words tumbling out in a rush.

Dawn nodded, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Yeah, she does," she mumbled, trying to shake off the remnants of her interrupted slumber.

Hermione sighed, running a hand through her tangled hair. "Is it possible for a Potential to get them also?" Her eyes were wide with fear, the moonlight catching the sheen of unshed tears.

Dawn sat up, her mind becoming more alert. She could see the worry in Hermione's eyes and knew this wasn't a casual question. "I don't know," she said, her voice steadier now. "What did you dream about?"

Hermione pulled Dawn out of bed and down into the common room to try and keep from waking the rest of the girls. The cold stone floor sent chills up their legs as they moved quickly and quietly. "Mr. Weasley was bitten by me. Or I guess whoever I was supposed to be in the dream." Her voice was barely above a whisper, trembling with the weight of the revelation.

Just then they saw Professor McGonagall and Neville rush past them up the stairs to the boys' dormitory. The sight of the usually composed professor moving with such urgency set Hermione's heart racing even faster. She looked to Dawn, eyes widening with urgency, and they followed behind, their footsteps quick and silent.

"Over here, Professor," Neville said, his voice tight with worry, his eyes wide with fear.

Professor McGonagall came hurrying into the dormitory in her tartan dressing gown, her glasses perched lopsidedly on the bridge of her bony nose. The urgency in her movements reflected the gravity of the situation. "What is it, Potter? Where does it hurt?" she asked, her voice a blend of concern and authority.

"It's Ron's dad," Harry said, sitting up again, his face pale and drawn, as if the life had been sucked out of him. "He's been attacked by a snake and it's serious, I saw it happen." His voice wavered, the horror of the vision still gripping him.

Hermione's eyes went wide with understanding. She had seen the same thing Harry had. Harry through his connection to Voldemort. Herself potentially through a Slayer dream. Her mind raced as she connected the dots, feeling a cold dread settle in her stomach. The weight of the situation pressed down on her, making it hard to breathe.

"What do you mean, you saw it happen?" said Professor McGonagall, her dark eyebrows contracting into a deep frown, her gaze sharp and scrutinizing.

"I don't know... I was asleep and then I was there..." Harry said, his voice trailing off as he tried to make sense of the surreal experience.

"I saw it too, Professor," Hermione said, her voice steady despite her heart pounding in her chest. She felt a strange sense of unity with Harry, their shared vision linking them in an inexplicable way.

McGonagall looked to Hermione and frowned, "You mean you both dreamed this?" Her voice was tinged with disbelief, the idea almost too fantastical to accept.

Hermione nodded, her face serious and resolute.

"No!" said Harry angrily, his frustration bubbling over. "I was having a dream at first about something completely different, something stupid... and then this interrupted it. It was real, I didn't imagine it. Mr. Weasley was asleep on the floor and he was attacked by a gigantic snake, there was a load of blood, he collapsed, someone's got to find out where he is…" His voice rose in urgency, the need to be believed pressing down on him.

Professor McGonagall was gazing at Harry and Hermione through her lopsided spectacles as though horrified at what she was seeing.

Hermione sighed, her anxiety evident in the tightness of her voice. "You know Buffy is a Slayer, right?" she asked, watching as McGonagall nodded, her face serious and attentive. "And you know as the Slayer she can get prophetic dreams?" she asked again, and McGonagall nodded once more, a hint of curiosity in her eyes. "Do you know if Potentials can?"

McGonagall nodded thoughtfully, her brow furrowing as she considered the question. "It is possible that a Potential Slayer can get a Slayer dream before they are called, but it is rare. Why?"

"I'm a Potential. I was to be Buffy's successor if something happened to her and..." Hermione said, glancing at Dawn, the weight of her admission hanging heavily in the air.

McGonagall's expression shifted to one of immediate understanding. If Hermione had experienced a genuine Slayer dream, then it was highly likely that Harry's vision was accurate as well. The implications were grave, and the urgency of the situation was clear.

"Put on your dressing gown — we're going to see the Headmaster," McGonagall instructed firmly, her tone brooking no argument. "Hermione, you're coming too. Dawn, I want you to go to Buffy's suite and bring her to the Headmaster's office."

Dawn nodded, feeling the gravity of the situation settle over her like a heavy cloak. The usually warm and safe environment of Hogwarts now felt charged with an electric tension, the familiar corridors filled with foreboding shadows. The castle seemed to hold its breath, the very walls exuding an oppressive sense of dread. She quickly pulled on her dressing gown, her mind racing with concern for Mr. Weasley and the uncertainty of the night ahead. Her thoughts churned, a mix of worry and determination propelling her forward.

"Weasley, you ought to come too," said Professor McGonagall, her voice cutting through the thick tension.

Harry, Dawn, Ron, and Hermione followed Professor McGonagall past the silent figures of Neville, Dean, and Seamus, who watched with wide, anxious eyes. The group moved swiftly out of the dormitory, down the spiral stairs into the common room, and through the portrait hole, each step echoing in the stillness of the night. Dawn felt the weight of their shared urgency, a collective anxiety that bound them together in their mission.

At the junction where their paths diverged, Dawn peeled off from the group, her heart pounding with a new wave of urgency. She watched them head towards Dumbledore's office, their forms quickly swallowed by the shadows of the dimly lit corridor. The flickering torches cast an eerie glow, heightening the sense of impending danger.

Dawn turned and hurried towards Buffy's suite, her footsteps quick and silent on the cold stone floor.

Buffy's Suite

She reached Buffy's suite and stopped in front of the portrait. The eyes of Simon, the portrait guardian, flickered open, his expression one of mild annoyance. "Hellmouth, Simon," Dawn said, giving the password, her voice sharp with urgency.

Simon opened one eye fully and looked at Dawn, a mixture of curiosity and irritation on his painted features. "It is late, Dawn," he said, his tone suggesting he did not appreciate being disturbed.

"And it is an emergency," Dawn replied, her voice unwavering. "I've been sent by Professor McGonagall."

Simon nodded slowly, his expression shifting to one of understanding as his portrait swung open, allowing Dawn into Buffy's suite. The room was dim, the shadows deepened by the late hour. Dawn moved quickly, her footsteps muffled on the thick carpet, and ran over to Buffy's bedroom door, knocking with a sense of urgency that made the sound sharp and insistent.

Buffy opened the door a moment later, her expression shifting from curiosity to concern as she saw Dawn's face, pale and strained. "What's wrong?" she asked, her voice tinged with immediate alertness, eyes narrowing as she sensed the gravity of the situation.

"It's urgent, Buffy. Hermione believes she had a Slayer dream. Professor McGonagall is taking her and Harry to Dumbledore's office. I was sent to get you and take you there also," Dawn said, her voice steady but laced with urgency, her words tumbling out in a rush.

Buffy didn't waste a second, her instincts kicking in. She grabbed a robe from a nearby chair, her movements swift and decisive. "Lead the way," she said, her tone calm but firm, the transformation from sister to Slayer instantaneous. The room's dim light caught the determination in her eyes, a fierce readiness that spoke of countless battles fought and won.