Harry Potter

by Dome2801

Harry Potter

In the Past to Change the Future: Reading

Book 6

By: RandomReader90

Fandom: Harry Potter

Status: Completed

Fic type: Friendship

Pairings/Main char.: Hermione G.

Published: 2010-05-20

Last updated: 2012-01-16

Words count: 291,710

Chapters count: 31

Converted using

Date: 2017-11-02

1. Chapter 1

In the Past to Change the Future: Reading the Half-Blood Prince

The Other Minister

AN: Hi all, sorry for the wait, here is the first chapter of this next

installment in the series, I hope you all enjoy it. For a few weeks at least my

updates will probably be a touch slower than normal, thanks to an

overwhelming amount of work that I need to do in the real world. I hope

you all enjoy this next installment and thanks for reading and supporting me

this far, it has been great! :). As usual I would like to thank everyone who

has reviewed my last two stories, it is always really encouraging to hear

what you all think. I would also just like to take this opportunity to make

mention of the fact that I do not own Harry Potter, or anything else which

you may recognise, that belongs to JK Rowling and Co, consider this a

standard disclaimer just in case I forget to add it occasionally. Well onto the

story! Happy Reading! Cheers!

With two books down and two to go, the room was sitting on the edge of

their seat waiting to find out what was going to happen next. The break

from reading had done everyone a world of good. After finding out about

Sirius' fate, they all needed to let off some steam and think about something

else. However even as the atmosphere lightened with time, a dark cloud of

worry hung over everyone's head, as they didn't know what catastrophe was

going to happen next. As they waited for Professors Dumbledore and

McGonagall to return, conversation ensued. Hermione and Lily, having

exhausted a twenty year history lesson in muggle culture, were now

discussing the differences in Hogwarts curriculum between the 70's and 90's

with input from, Alice Smith, Frank Longbottom and Severus Snape. In one

corner of the room Remus Lupin and James Potter were discussing

something in hushed tones, which made the room at large fear for their

lives, or at least their natural hair colour. In another corner Sirius and

Regulus Black were having a game of chess, which seemed to reaching its

conclusion, to the delight of one brother and the chagrin of the other.

"I can't believe you did that!"

"It's your fault, you shouldn't have taken my knight..."

"That didn't mean that you needed to take my queen."

"Tough, payback is a bitch sometimes, brother."

Sirius mumbled something under his breath that no one could hear.

"You know sometimes I think the reason you left home was so that you

wouldn't have to lose to me in chess anymore," taunted Regulus.

"You know perfectly well that wasn't the reason!" retorted Sirius, "though I

will admit it was a beneficial consequence. Just remember though brother, I

can still kick your scrawny little behind to Mongolia in a duel."

"Scrawny, who are you calling scrawny?" replied Regulus, "I'll get you for

that."

There were a few minutes of rare silence.

"Ha, checkmate!" declared Regulus, "pity your duelling skills can't help you

in a simple game of chess."

Sirius scowled slightly, though it was easy to tell that he had enjoyed the

game none the less, as he waved his wand, vanishing the set. "So what are

you lovely ladies discussing?" he asked charmingly, as the brothers made

their way back to the main group.

"Who are you calling ladies?" scowled Severus.

"Whoops, sorry, I keep forgetting Smith isn't a lady," replied Sirius with a

grin. He stopped and stared at his seat for a minute and then waved his

wand a few times over it before sitting down. He could see James and

Remus scowling slightly at being tharwted.

"We were discussing school work," said Lily, "something which you seem

to know nothing about at times."

"What about it?" asked Sirius, "I doubt the curriculum has changed much

over the years, apart from defence, which really is a complete load of

dragon dung, so yes nothing has changed."

"The only real difference we can see is in potions, seems Snapey's

curriculum is more advanced than Sluggy's," commented Alice.

"Not surprising really," said Lily, "Sev is brilliant at potions."

"What is seventh year like compared to sixth year here?" asked Hermione

curiously, having never completed her final year, though the others didn't

know that yet.

"For us or the wizarding population in general?" asked Sirius, lounging

back in his charm-free chair.

"Is there a difference?" asked Severus with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes actually," said Sirius lazily, "I am not boasting, but everyone here

would be classed as an extraordinary student, we are all ahead of most of

our peers in our studies in our relevant areas, which by the way is probably

the only reason why Minnie and Sir Twinkle-Eyes are letting us skip to read

these books."

"To answer Mie's question," said Remus, inviting himself and James into

the conversation, "For the former, it probably isn't that difficult, as you have

probably already studied the material, for the rest of the world, I daresay it

would be the normal, each year is harder and more stressful than the last."

"Kind of like these books," commented Frank, "I swear each one is more

stressful than the last."

Hermione winced, oh boy, wasn't that true.

"That is actually kind of scary if you think about it," said James, "I really

don't think I want to know what is going to happen next, but at the same

time I really really do need to know otherwise I would probably go crazy."

"I assure you Mr Potter, that we all seem to share that sentiment,"

announced Minerva, as she and Albus entered the room, unbeknown to

everyone else, "and seeing that is the case, I guess that it is time for us to

begin the next book."

Sirius eyed the professor's chairs with a small smirk as they sat down.

When Minerva sat down, there was an instantaneous effect.

"I thought you got rid of the charm before you sat down!" said James with

wide-eyes, "what on earth possessed you to transfer it to Minnie's chair?"

Sirius merely let out a bark of laughter as the room watched in awe as their

transfiguration mistress was turned into a shocking canary yellow bullfrog,

and the cushion of the chair turned into a miniature swamp. Fortunately the

transfiguration only lasted a minute, leaving a disgruntled professor in its

wake and everyone else in uproar.

"Who is responsible for this?" asked Minerva sternly, her eyes falling on the

marauders.

"Given the reactions, I would have to say Mr Potter," said Albus with a

highly amused twinkle in his eyes.

"Whoops?"

"Perhaps we should just begin reading," said Lily, sending an amused scowl

at her boyfriend, effectively diffusing any possible tension.

"Very well, if you want to continue from where we left off, it is Severus'

turn to read," said Hermione pulling out the book and handing it to him.

Severus raised an eyebrow at the title, it seems that this could be an

interesting book for him.

Harry Potter and the Half'-Blood Prince

Lily's raised her eyebrows and smirked a little, well, well, well this was an

interesting turn of events.

"Who on earth is the half-blood prince?" asked James.

Lily winked at a smirking Severus, "I have no idea," she said innocently,

"perhaps we should read and find out."

"That would indeed seem to be the logical solution, Ms Evans," said

Dumbledore with a slight twinkle.

The Other Minister

"There is another minister?"

"Perhaps if you let me read, Lupin, I would be able to explain," said Snape.

It was nearing midnight and the Prime Minister was sitting alone in his

office, reading a long memo that was slipping through his brain without

leaving the slightest trace of meaning behind. He was waiting for a call

from the President of a far distant country, and between wondering

when the wretched man would telephone, and trying to suppress

unpleasant memories of what had been a very long, tiring, and difficult

week, there was not much space in his head for anything else.

"It is obviously the muggle Prime Minister," said Lily, "I wonder who it is."

"No one you would recognise, probably," said Minerva.

The more he attempted to focus on the print on the page before him,

the more clearly the Prime Minister could see the gloating face of one

of his political opponents. This particular opponent had appeared on

the news that very day, not only to enumerate all the terrible things

that had happened in the last week (as though anyone needed

reminding) but also to explain why each and every one of them was the

government's fault.

"Welcome to the world of politics!" said Frank, "though, I do wonder why

this chapter is here, and how we got the muggle minister's perspective."

"It probably is there to give an idea of what is going on," said Remus.

"As for the perspective," said Hermione, "now that Voldie is back with a

vengeance, many of his attacks cross into the muggle world, there are quite

a few major ones actually, so eventually the head of the muggle government

met Harry, chosen-one, boy-who-lived and all that rot."

The Prime Minister's pulse quickened at the very thought of these

accusations, for they were neither fair nor true. How on earth was his

government supposed to have stopped that bridge collapsing? It was

outrageous for anybody to suggest that they were not spending enough

on bridges. The bridge was fewer than ten years old, and the best

experts were at a loss to explain why it had snapped cleanly in two,

sending a dozen cars into the watery depths of the river below.

"I have a pretty good explanation for it though," said Regulus darkly.

And how dare anyone suggest that it was lack of policemen that had

resulted in those two very nasty and well-publicized murders? Or that

the government should have somehow foreseen the freak hurricane in

the West Country that had caused so much damage to both people and

property? And was it his fault that one of his Junior Ministers, Herbert

Chorley, had chosen this week to act so peculiarly that he was now

going to be spending a lot more time with his family?

"Now that is rather suspicious," said Minerva, "the last one reeks of the

imperious curse."

"A grim mood has gripped the country," the opponent had concluded,

barely concealing his own broad grin.

And unfortunately, this was perfectly true. The Prime Minister felt it

himself; people really did seem more miserable than usual. Even the

weather was dismal; all this chilly mist in the middle of July… It wasn't

right, it wasn't normal…

"Oh joy," said Sirius sarcastically, "now the dementors are out to play, didn't

they have enough to eat when I was with them for twelve years."

He turned over the second page of the memo, saw how much longer it

went on, and gave it up as a bad job. Stretching his arms above his

head he looked around his office mournfully. It was a handsome room,

with a fine marble fireplace facing the long sash windows, firmly closed

against the unseasonable chill. With a slight shiver, the Prime Minister

got up and moved over to the window, looking out at the thin mist that

was pressing itself against the glass. It was then, as he stood with his

back to the room, that he heard a soft cough behind him. He froze, nose

to nose with his own scared-looking reflection in the dark glass. He

knew that cough. He had heard it before. He turned very slowly to face

the empty room.

"What the?"

"Hello?" he said, trying to sound braver than he felt.

For a brief moment he allowed himself the impossible hope that nobody

would answer him. However, a voice responded at once, a crisp,

decisive voice that sounded as though it were reading a prepared

statement. It was coming — as the Prime Minister had known at the

first cough — from the froglike little man wearing a long silver wig

who was depicted in a small, dirty oil painting in the far corner of the

room.

"To the Prime Minister of Muggles. Urgent we meet. Kindly respond

immediately. Sincerely, Fudge."

"The muggle minister and minister for magic communicate?" asked Lily, "I

didn't know that."

"Funny thing about governments," said Alice, "they do tend to talk to each

other, besides there seems to be some... jurisdictional issues."

The man in the painting looked inquiringly at the Prime Minister.

"Er," said the Prime Minister, "listen… It's not a very good time for

me… I'm waiting for a telephone call, you see… from the President of

—"

"That can be rearranged," said the portrait at once. The Prime

Minister's heart sank. He had been afraid of that.

"He doesn't seem very eager to meet with Fudge," observed James.

"That just proves that he has met him. Would you be eager to meet Fudge?

He is an absolute imbecile, a corrupt one at that," pointed out Sirius.

"But I really was rather hoping to speak —"

"We shall arrange for the President to forget to call. He will telephone

tomorrow night instead," said the little man. "Kindly respond

immediately to Mr. Fudge."

"I… oh… very well," said the Prime Minister weakly. "Yes, I'll see

Fudge."

"Doesn't really seem to have much of a choice in the matter," commented

Remus.

He hurried back to his desk, straightening his tie as he went. He had

barely resumed his seat, and arranged his face into what he hoped was

a relaxed and unfazed expression, when bright green flames burst into

life in the empty grate beneath his marble mantelpiece. He watched,

trying not to betray a flicker of surprise or alarm, as a portly man

appeared within the flames, spinning as fast as a top. Seconds later, he

had climbed out onto a rather fine antique rug, brushing ash from the

sleeves of his long pin-striped cloak, a lime-green bowler hat in his

hand.

"Ah… Prime Minister," said Cornelius Fudge, striding forward with

his hand outstretched. "Good to see you again."

The Prime Minister could not honestly return this compliment, so said

nothing at all.

"You know, for a politician I am beginning to like him," said Sirius.

He was not remotely pleased to see Fudge, whose occasional

appearances, apart from being downright alarming in themselves,

generally meant that he was about to hear some very bad news.

Furthermore, Fudge was looking distinctly careworn. He was thinner,

balder, and grayer, and his face had a crumpled look. The Prime

Minister had seen that kind of look in politicians before, and it never

boded well.

"How can I help you?" he said, shaking Fudge's hand very briefly and

gesturing toward the hardest of the chairs in front of the desk.

"Difficult to know where to begin," muttered Fudge, pulling up the

chair, sitting down, and placing his green bowler upon his knees.

"What a week, what a week…"

"Had a bad one too, have you?" asked the Prime Minister stiffly,

hoping to convey by this that he had quite enough on his plate already

without any extra helpings from Fudge.

"Yes, of course," said Fudge, rubbing his eyes wearily and looking

morosely at the Prime Minister. "I've been having the same week you

have, Prime Minister. The Brockdale Bridge… the Bones and Vance

murders… not to mention the ruckus in the West Country…"

"Whose murders?" queried Minerva.

"Bones and Vance," answered Severus, checking the names.

"Amelia Bones and Emmeline Vance," elaborated Hermione, "I can tell you

why too. Bones because she was tipped to be the next minister of magic,

and probably was the biggest potential threat to Riddle in the ministry,

whether she got office or not."

"The Vances are an old pureblood family as well," said James, "and are

decidedly anti-Voldemort, I think she was also listed as an order member in

the last book as well."

"Was she murdered because she was an order member or a Vance though?"

wondered Remus. Hermione shrugged, either was possible.

"You — er — your — I mean to say, some of your people were — were

involved in those — those things, were they?"

Fudge fixed the Prime Minister with a rather stern look. "Of course

they were," he said, "Surely you've realized what's going on?"

"Not being a wizard, or having a strong intergovernmental rapport, that is

highly unlikely," pointed out Regulus, "though I must say, I don't really

have the impression that Fudge's cognitive functions work all that well."

"I…" hesitated the Prime Minister.

It was precisely this sort of behaviour that made him dislike Fudge's

visits so much. He was, after all, the Prime Minister and did not

appreciate being made to feel like an ignorant schoolboy. But of course,

it had been like this from his very first meeting with Fudge on his very

first evening as Prime Minister. He remembered it as though it were

yesterday and knew it would haunt him until his dying day.

"I feel some reminiscing coming on," said Alice, "tell us a story, Uncle

Sevvy," she simpered in a childlike voice.

"Once upon a time, Alice Smith decided to annoy Severus Snape, she did

not live happily ever after. The end," supplied Regulus. Severus snorted and

read the real story.

He had been standing alone in this very office, savouring the triumph

that was his after so many years of dreaming and scheming, when he

had heard a cough behind him, just like tonight, and turned to find that

ugly little portrait talking to him, announcing that the Minister of

Magic was about to arrive and introduce himself.

Naturally, he had thought that the long campaign and the strain of the

election had caused him to go mad. He had been utterly terrified to find

a portrait talking to him, though this had been nothing to how he felt

when a self-proclaimed wizard had bounced out of the fireplace and

shaken his hand. He had remained speechless throughout Fudge's

kindly explanation that there were witches and wizards still living in

secret all over the world and his reassurances that he was not to bother

his head about them as the Ministry of Magic took responsibility for

the whole Wizarding community and prevented the non-magical

population from getting wind of them. It was, said Fudge, a difficult job

that encompassed everything from regulations on responsible use of

broomsticks to keeping the dragon population under control (the Prime

Minister remembered clutching the desk for support at this point).

Fudge had then patted the shoulder of the still-dumbstruck Prime

Minister in a fatherly sort of way.

"Not to worry," he had said, "it's odds-on you'll never see me again. I'll

only bother you if there's something really serious going on our end,

something that's likely to affect the Muggles — the non-magical

population, I should say. Otherwise, it's live and let live. And I must

say, you're taking it a lot better than your predecessor. He tried to

throw me out the window, thought I was a hoax planned by the

opposition."

At this, the Prime Minister had found his voice at last. "You're —

you're not a hoax, then?"

Someone snorted.

It had been his last, desperate hope.

"No," said Fudge gently. "No, I'm afraid I'm not. Look."

"Oh I wouldn't be too sure, Fudge hasn't proven himself to be very genuine

or sincere," pointed out Sirius, "he's quite the hoax if you ask me... he tries

to fool people into thinking he actually has a brain which can construct an

individual thought."

And he had turned the Prime Minister's teacup into a gerbil.

"But," said the Prime Minister breathlessly, watching his teacup

chewing on the corner of his next speech, "but why — why has nobody

told me —?"

"The Minister of Magic only reveals him — or herself to the Muggle

Prime Minister of the day," said Fudge, poking his wand back inside

his jacket. "We find it the best way to maintain secrecy."

"But then," bleated the Prime Minister, "why hasn't a former Prime

Minister warned me —?"

"I'm sure that knowing that your successor is about to get the shock of their

life can be a pretty good consolation prize, why would you want to ruin

that?" asked Alice.

At this, Fudge had actually laughed.

"My dear Prime Minister, are you ever going to tell anybody?"

Still chortling, Fudge had thrown some powder into the fireplace,

stepped into the emerald flames, and vanished with a whooshing sound.

The Prime Minister had stood there, quite motionless, and realized that

he would never, as long as he lived, dare mention this encounter to a

living soul, for who in the wide world would believe him?

"That too," said Remus, "I like Smith's reasoning better."

"Don't worry wolfie, I'm sure once the shock wears off he will think of it

too," said Alice, consolingly.

The shock had taken a little while to wear off. For a time, he had tried

to convince himself that Fudge had indeed been a hallucination

brought on by lack of sleep during his gruelling election campaign.

In a vain attempt to rid himself of all reminders of this uncomfortable

encounter, he had given the gerbil to his delighted niece and instructed

his private secretary to take down the portrait of the ugly little man

who had announced Fudge's arrival. To the Prime Minister's dismay,

however, the portrait had proved impossible to remove. When several

carpenters, a builder or two, an art historian, and the Chancellor of the

Exchequer had all tried unsuccessfully to pry it from the wall, the

Prime Minister had abandoned the attempt and simply resolved to

hope that the thing remained motionless and silent for the rest of his

term in office. Occasionally he could have sworn he saw out of the

corner of his eye the occupant of the painting yawning, or else

scratching his nose; even, once or twice, simply walking out of his

frame and leaving nothing but a stretch of muddy-brown canvas

behind.

However, he had trained himself not to look at the picture very much,

and always to tell himself firmly that his eyes were playing tricks on

him when anything like this happened.

"Merlin bless his little delusion," said Lily, "should send James over, then

the poor minister would know that magic is real!"

"My, my, Ms Evans is endorsing a prank, on a muggle and authority figure

no-less," said Sirius in false shock, "oh dear the apocalypse must be

coming."

"Hate to break it to you Paddy," said Remus, "but the apocalypse has

already been and gone, it occurred when James was made headboy, then

again when Lily agreed to date him, then again when..."

"Apparently we have multiple apocalypses, I wonder if anyone managed to

predict that?" wondered Regulus quietly.

"Besides," said Lily, "I didn't endorse any pranking, I was merely saying

that James can be rather memorable."

"Watch the mental images there Lily, didn't need thoughts of Potter being

memorable in my head," cringed Alice.

Severus paled and looked rather ill at the implication.

Then, three years ago, on a night very like tonight, the Prime Minister

had been alone in his office when the portrait had once again

announced the imminent arrival of Fudge, who had burst out of the

fireplace, sopping wet and in a state of considerable panic. Before the

Prime Minister could ask why he was dripping all over the Axminster,

Fudge had started ranting about a prison the Prime Minister had never

heard of, a man named "Serious" Black, something that sounded like

"Hogwarts," and a boy called Harry Potter, none of which made the

remotest sense to the Prime Minister.

"Seems I'm important," said Sirius, "even the muggle government knows

my name."

"… I've just come from Azkaban," Fudge had panted, tipping a large

amount of water out of the rim of his bowler hat into his pocket.

"Middle of the North Sea, you know, nasty flight… the dementors are

in uproar"— he shuddered — "they've never had a breakout before.

"At least Paddy is unique," said James.

"I doubt anyone would ever say he lacks personality or ... uniqueness," said

Frank.

"Are you implying that I am weird," asked Sirius.

"I thought he made it painfully obvious," retorted Regulus.

Anyway, I had to come to you, Prime Minister. Black's a known

Muggle killer and may be planning to rejoin You-Know-Who… But of

course, you don't even know who You-Know-Who is!" He had gazed

hopelessly at the Prime Minister for a moment, then said, "Well, sit

down, sit down, I'd better fill you in… Have a whiskey…"

The Prime Minister rather resented being told to sit down in his own

office, let alone offered his own whiskey, but he sat nevertheless. Fudge

pulled out his wand, conjured two large glasses full of amber liquid out

of thin air, pushed one of them into the Prime Minister's hand, and

drew up a chair.

Fudge had talked for more than an hour. At one point, he had refused

to say a certain name aloud and wrote it instead on a piece of

parchment, which he had thrust into the Prime Minister's whiskey-free

hand. When at last Fudge had stood up to leave, the Prime Minister

had stood up too.

"So you think that…" He had squinted down at the name in his left

hand. "Lord Vol —"

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!" snarled Fudge.

"I'm sorry… You think that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is still alive,

then?"

"Well, Dumbledore says he is," said Fudge, as he had fastened his pin-

striped cloak under his chin, "but we've never found him. If you ask

me, he's not dangerous unless he's got support, so it's Black we ought to

be worrying about.

"Oh you should worry," said Remus, "just not for that reason."

You'll put out that warning, then? Excellent. Well, I hope we don't see

each other again, Prime Minister! Good night."

But they had seen each other again. Less than a year later a harassed-

looking Fudge had appeared out of thin air in the cabinet room to

inform the Prime Minister that there had been a spot of bother at the

Kwidditch (or that was what it had sounded like) World Cup and that

several Muggles had been "involved," but that the Prime Minister was

not to worry, the fact that You-Know-Who's Mark had been seen again

meant nothing; Fudge was sure it was an isolated incident, and the

Muggle Liaison Office was dealing with all memory modifications as

they spoke.

"Oh, and I almost forgot," Fudge had added. "We're importing three

foreign dragons and a sphinx for the Triwizard Tournament, quite

routine, but the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical

Creatures tells me that it's down in the rule book that we have to notify

you if we're bringing highly dangerous creatures into the country."

"I'm sure that made his day," said Lily rather pleasantly.

"I — what — dragons?" spluttered the Prime Minister.

"Yes, three," said Fudge. "And a sphinx. Well, good day to you."

The Prime Minister had hoped beyond hope that dragons and sphinxes

would be the worst of it, but no. Less than two years later, Fudge had

erupted out of the fire yet again, this time with the news that there had

been a mass breakout from Azkaban.

"A mass breakout?" repeated the Prime Minister hoarsely.

"No need to worry, no need to worry!" shouted Fudge, already with one

foot in the flames. "We'll have them rounded up in no time — just

thought you ought to know!"

And before the Prime Minister could shout, "Now, wait just one

moment!" Fudge had vanished in a shower of green sparks.

"Ha, take that Bella," said Sirius, "I am more important, I got a whole

speech, while you and your cronies didn't even merit your names or an

explanation."

"Is he sane?" wondered Hermione.

"That is up for debate," replied Remus quietly, "though the fact we

willingly put up with him, and Smith for that matter, probably doesn't say

much about our own sanity."

Whatever the press and the opposition might say, the Prime Minister

was not a foolish man. It had not escaped his notice that, despite

Fudge's assurances at their first meeting, they were now seeing rather a

lot of each other, nor that Fudge was becoming more flustered with

each visit. Little though he liked to think about the Minister of Magic

(or, as he always called Fudge in his head, the Other Minister), the

Prime Minister could not help but fear that the next time Fudge

appeared it would be with graver news still. The site, therefore, of

Fudge stepping out of the fire once more, looking dishevelled and

fretful and sternly surprised that the Prime Minister did not know

exactly why he was there, was about the worst thing that had happened

in the course of this extremely gloomy week.

"How should I know what's going on in the — er — Wizarding

community?" snapped the Prime Minister now. "I have a country to

run and quite enough concerns at the moment without —"

"We have the same concerns," Fudge interrupted. "The Brockdale

Bridge didn't wear out. That wasn't really a hurricane. Those murders

were not the work of Muggles. And Herbert Chorley's family would be

safer without him. We are currently making arrangements to have him

transferred to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

The move should be affected tonight."

"What do you… I'm afraid I… What?" blustered the Prime Minister.

Fudge took a great, deep breath and said, "Prime Minister, I am very

sorry to have to tell you that he's back. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named

is back."

"Only took him about a year to figure it out," pointed out James, "at this

rate he will decide to actually act and do something by Christmas."

"Back? When you say 'back'… he's alive? I mean —"

The Prime Minister groped in his memory for the details of that

horrible conversation of three years previously, when Fudge had told

him about the wizard who was feared above all others, the wizard who

had committed a thousand terrible crimes before his mysterious

disappearance fifteen years earlier.

"Yes, alive," said Fudge. "That is — I don't know — is a man alive if he

can't be killed? I don't really understand it, and Dumbledore won't

explain properly — but anyway, he's certainly got a body and is

walking and talking and killing, so I suppose, for the purposes of our

discussion, yes, he's alive."

The Prime Minister did not know what to say to this, but a persistent

habit of wishing to appear well-informed on any subject that came up

made him cast around for any details he could remember of their

previous conversations.

"Definitely a politician then."

"Is Serious Black with — er — He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

"Black? Black?" said Fudge distractedly, turning his bowler rapidly in

his fingers. "Sirius Black, you mean? Merlin's beard, no. Black's dead.

Turns out we were — er — mistaken about Black. He was innocent

after all. And he wasn't in league with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named

either. I mean," he added defensively, spinning the bowler hat still

faster, "all the evidence pointed — we had more than fifty eyewitnesses

— but anyway, as I say, he's dead. Murdered, as a matter of fact. On

Ministry of Magic premises. There's going to be an inquiry, actually…"

"I'm glad that the inquiry is coming, that is the least of what Fudge

deserves," said Lily, "but I suppose we should be happy as well, with the

fact that everyone knows Sirius is innocent."

"While Fudge acknowledged it privately and called off all search, Sirius

wasn't actually declared innocent," said Hermione aggravated, "he was

declared dead, however they used the loophole of the fact he didn't have a

trial and was never found guilty to weasel out of actually having to

publically acknowledge that they were wrong or apologise or pardon him.

Most people weren't even told he was dead, the Prophet only published that

an unnamed individual was killed on ministry property during the battle...

bastards."

To his great surprise, the Prime Minister felt a fleeting stab of pity for

Fudge at this point.

"Oh I don't" growled Remus, "just deserts for his actions if you ask me."

It was, however, eclipsed almost immediately by a glow of smugness at

the thought that, deficient though he himself might be in the area of

materializing out of fireplaces, there had never been a murder in any of

the government departments under his charge… Not yet, anyway…

While the Prime Minister surreptitiously touched the wood of his desk,

Fudge continued, "But Blacks by-the-by now. The point is, we're at

war, Prime Minister, and steps must be taken."

"At war?" repeated the Prime Minister nervously. "Surely that's a little

bit of an overstatement?"

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has now been joined by those of his

followers who broke out of Azkaban in January," said Fudge, speaking

more and more rapidly and twirling his bowler so fast that it was a

lime-green blur. "Since they have moved into the open, they have been

wreaking havoc. The Brockdale Bridge — he did it, Prime Minister, he

threatened a mass Muggle killing unless I stood aside for him and —"

"Good grief, so it's your fault those people were killed and I'm having

to answer questions about rusted rigging and corroded expansion joints

and I don't know what else!" said the Prime Minister furiously.

"My fault!" said Fudge, colouring up. "Are you saying you would have

caved in to blackmail like that?"

"Maybe not," said the Prime Minister, standing up and striding about

the room, "but I would have put all my efforts into catching the

blackmailer before he committed any such atrocity!"

"Do you really think I wasn't already making every effort?" demanded

Fudge heatedly.

"honestly... No," said Frank, "considering you spent a year denying that he

could ever return and ostracising those who could help you. I definitely

don't think you have made every effort."

"Every Auror in the Ministry was — and is — trying to find him and

round up his followers, but we happen to be talking about one of the

most powerful wizards of all time, a wizard who has eluded capture for

almost three decades!"

"So I suppose you're going to tell me he caused the hurricane in the

West Country too?" said the Prime Minister, his temper rising with

every pace he took. It was infuriating to discover the reason for all

these terrible disasters and not to be able to tell the public, almost

worse than it being the government's fault after all.

Regulus snorted... politicians are such amusing creatures.

"That was no hurricane," said Fudge miserably.

"Excuse me!" barked the Prime Minister, now positively stamping up

and down. "Trees uprooted, roofs ripped off, lampposts bent, horrible

injuries —"

"It was the Death Eaters," said Fudge. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-

Named's followers. And… and we suspect giant involvement."

The Prime Minister stopped in his tracks as though he had hit an

invisible wall. "What involvement?"

Fudge grimaced. "He used giants last time, when he wanted to go for

the grand effect," he said. "The Office of Misinformation has been

working around the clock, we've had teams of Obliviators out trying to

modify the memories of all the Muggles who saw what really happened,

we've got most of the Department for the Regulation and Control of

Magical Creatures running around Somerset, but we can't find the

giant — it's been a disaster."

"You don't say!" said the Prime Minister furiously.

"I won't deny that morale is pretty low at the Ministry," said Fudge.

"What with all that, and then losing Amelia Bones."

"That is such a tragedy," said Minerva, "she is an amazing witch and would

be such an asset to the ministry and the order during the war."

"Losing who?"

"Amelia Bones. Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

We think He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named may have murdered her in

person, because she was a very gifted witch and — and all the evidence

was that she put up a real fight."

Fudge cleared his throat and, with an effort, it seemed, stopped

spinning his bowler hat.

"But that murder was in the newspapers," said the Prime Minister,

momentarily diverted from his anger. "Our newspapers. Amelia

Bones… it just said she was a middle-aged woman who lived alone. It

was a — a nasty killing, wasn't it? It's had rather a lot of publicity. The

police are baffled, you see."

"How nasty are we looking at?" asked Minerva, not entirely sure that she

wanted to know.

"Let's just say that there was blood and other body parts everywhere and

she was not in one piece," said Hermione, "they had some pictures of it on

the muggle news. Though not all the blood was hers, according to the

Prophet anyway, so she must have done some damage."

Fudge sighed. "Well, of course they are," he said. "Killed in a room

that was locked from the inside, wasn't she? We, on the other hand,

know exactly who did it, not that that gets us any further toward

catching him. And then there was Emmeline Vance, maybe you didn't

hear about that one —"

"Oh yes I did!" said the Prime Minister. "It happened just around the

corner from here, as a matter of fact. The papers had a field day with

it, 'breakdown of law and order in the Prime Minister's backyard — '"

Lily let out a low whistle, "the Vances must be rich if Emmeline lives in

Downing St."

"And as if all that wasn't enough," said Fudge, barely listening to the

Prime Minister, "we've got Dementors swarming all over the place,

attacking people left, right, and center…"

Once upon a happier time this sentence would have been unintelligible

to the Prime Minister, but he was wiser now.

"I thought Dementors guard the prisoners in Azkaban," he said

cautiously.

"They did," said Fudge wearily. "But not anymore. They've deserted

the prison and joined He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I won't pretend

that wasn't a blow."

"But," said the Prime Minister, with a sense of dawning horror, "didn't

you tell me they're the creatures that drain hope and happiness out of

people?"

"That's right. And they're breeding. That's what's causing all this

mist."

The Prime Minister sank, weak-kneed, into the nearest chair. The idea

of invisible creatures swooping through the towns and countryside,

spreading despair and hopelessness in his voters, made him feel quite

faint.

"Now see here, Fudge — you've got to do something! It's your

responsibility as Minister of Magic!"

"Because he has been so responsible up to this point," said Regulus dryly.

"My dear Prime Minister, you can't honestly think I'm still Minister of

Magic after all this?

"Definitely not," said Lily, "thank goodness that there is some justice in the

world."

"I daresay that having Money-bags Malfoy in Azkaban is part of that

reason," said Sirius cynically.

I was sacked three days ago! The whole Wizarding community has

been screaming for my resignation for a fortnight. I've never known

them so united in my whole term of office!" said Fudge, with a brave

attempt at a smile.

The Prime Minister was momentarily lost for words. Despite his

indignation at the position into which he had been placed, he still

rather felt for the shrunken-looking man sitting opposite him.

"I'm very sorry," he said finally. "If there's anything I can do?"

"It's very kind of you, Prime Minister, but there is nothing. I was sent

here tonight to bring you up to date on recent events and to introduce

you to my successor. I rather thought he'd be here by now, but of

course, he's very busy at the moment, with so much going on."

Fudge looked around at the portrait of the ugly little man wearing the

long curly silver wig, who was digging in his ear with the point of a

quill. Catching Fudge's eye, the portrait said, "He'll be here in a

moment, he's just finishing a letter to Dumbledore."

Dumbledore smiled slightly, it seemed that he was back in favour again,

even women were less fickle than politicians.

"I wish him luck," said Fudge, sounding bitter for the first time. "I've

been writing to Dumbledore twice a day for the past fortnight, but he

won't budge. If he'd just been prepared to persuade the boy, I might

still be… Well, maybe Scrimgeour will have more success."

"What boy?" queried James, having a shrewd idea.

"Your son, they obviously want to turn him into some sort of symbol,"

observed Frank.

"I doubt I would risk my precarious relationship with Mr Potter by telling

him that the ministry wishes to manipulate him so as to preserve Cornelius'

time as minister of magic," said Albus, "that would probably put me more

into the proverbial doghouse than I already am."

Hermione felt it was a bit rich for Albus to say anyone wanted to

manipulate Harry.

"Scrimgeour is minister?" clarified Minerva, picking up on the newest piece

of information.

"Is he any good?" Alice.

"He can't be worse than Fudge," pointed out Lily.

Hermione chewed her lip for a moment, wondering how best to describe

Scrimgeour.

"He was probably better than Fudge, but he was more concerned with being

seen to do something, than actually doing something, if you know what I

mean," said Hermione.

"So he is a politician," summarised Regulus.

Fudge subsided into what was clearly an aggrieved silence, but it was

broken almost immediately by the portrait, which suddenly spoke in its

crisp, official voice.

"To the Prime Minister of Muggles. Requesting a meeting. Urgent.

Kindly respond immediately. Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister of Magic."

"Yes, yes, fine," said the Prime Minister distractedly, and he barely

flinched as the flames in the grate turned emerald green again, rose up,

and revealed a second spinning wizard in their heart, disgorging him

moments later onto the antique rug. Fudge got to his feet and, after a

moment's hesitation, the Prime Minister did the same, watching the

new arrival straighten up, dust down his long black robes, and look

around. The Prime Minister's first, foolish thought was that Rufus

Scrimgeour looked rather like an old lion.

"Apparently not much has changed on that front," said Minerva, "Rufus

always had appalling hair."

There were streaks of gray in his mane of tawny hair and his bushy

eyebrows; he had keen yellowish eyes behind a pair of wire-rimmed

spectacles and a certain rangy, loping grace even though he walked

with a slight limp. There was an immediate impression of shrewdness

and toughness; the Prime Minister thought he understood why the

Wizarding community preferred Scrimgeour to Fudge as a leader in

these dangerous times.

"I would personally prefer a blast-ended screwt for minister over Fudge,"

said Sirius.

"How do you do?" said the Prime Minister politely, holding out his

hand.

Scrimgeour grasped it briefly, his eyes scanning the room, then pulled

out a wand from under his robes.

"Fudge told you everything?" he asked, striding over to the door and

tapping the keyhole with his wand. The Prime Minister heard the lock

click.

"Er — yes," said the Prime Minister. "And if you don't mind, I'd

rather that door remained unlocked."

"I'd rather not be interrupted," said Scrimgeour shortly, "or watched,"

he added, pointing his wand at the windows, so that the curtains swept

across them.

"Right, well, I'm a busy man, so let's get down to business. First of all,

we need to discuss your security."

The Prime Minister drew himself up to his fullest height and replied, "I

am perfectly happy with the security I've already got, thank you very

—"

"Unfortunately that won't help much against garbage munchers," said Alice.

Hermione nodded, they figured this out first hand in the future when there

was a successful attack on the muggle government.

"Well, we're not," Scrimgeour cut in. "It'll be a poor lookout for the

Muggles if their Prime Minister gets put under the Imperius Curse.

The new secretary in your outer office —"

"I'm not getting rid of Kingsley Shacklebolt, if that's what you're

suggesting!" said the Prime Minister hotly.

Most of the room at the very least cracked a smile, while the others were

bent over laughing.

"Seems the ministry didn't take Kingsley's involvement in the Order very

well," observed Minerva.

"Why do you say that?" asked Lily, not understanding how that could be

deduced from what they read.

Minerva chuckled, "oh child, there is always one auror watching the

muggle minister, particularly during the war, however it is seen as a

punishment, or as a way to get rid of a problem. Most of the aurors would

balk at having to work with muggles all day and not be seen to do any

magic. They must not have been impressed with Kingsley's divided loyalty,

particularly since he was such a trusted auror, as we saw in the last book,

this is their way of unofficially expressing their displeasure."

"He's highly efficient, gets through twice the work the rest of them —"

"I wonder why"

"That's because he's a wizard," said Scrimgeour, without a flicker of a

smile. "A highly trained Auror, who has been assigned to you for your

protection."

"Now, wait a moment!" declared the Prime Minister. "You can't just

put your people into my office, I decide who works for me —"

"I thought you were happy with Shacklebolt?" said Scrimgeour coldly.

"I am — that's to say, I was —"

"Then there's no problem, is there?" said Scrimgeour.

"He probably doesn't enjoy being manipulated," said Sirius, "which is

normal."

"I… well, as long as Shacklebolt's work continues to be… er…

excellent," said the Prime Minister lamely, but Scrimgeour barely

seemed to hear him.

"Now, about Herbert Chorley, your Junior Minister," he continued.

"The one who has been entertaining the public by impersonating a

duck."

"What about him?" asked the Prime Minister.

"Imperius curse," deduced Frank.

"He has clearly reacted to a poorly performed Imperius Curse," said

Scrimgeour. "It's addled his brains, but he could still be dangerous."

"He's only quacking!" said the Prime Minister weakly. "Surely a bit of

a rest… Maybe go easy on the drink…"

"It must be hard for the poor man to get his head around," sympathised Lily.

"A team of Healers from St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies

and Injuries are examining him as we speak. So far he has attempted to

strangle three of them," said Scrimgeour. "I think it best that we

remove him from Muggle society for a while."

"I… well… He'll be all right, won't he?" said the Prime Minister

anxiously.

Sirius raised his eyebrows looking mildly impressed, "wow, he actually

seems to care, I didn't know if that was possible for a politician."

Scrimgeour merely shrugged, already moving back toward the

fireplace.

"Well, that's really all I had to say. I will keep you posted of

developments, Prime Minister — or, at least, I shall probably be too

busy to come personally, in which case I shall send Fudge here. He has

consented to stay on in an advisory capacity."

Fudge attempted to smile, but was unsuccessful; he merely looked as

though he had a toothache. Scrimgeour was already rummaging in his

pocket for the mysterious powder that turned the fire green. The Prime

Minister gazed hopelessly at the pair of them for a moment, then the

words he had fought to suppress all evening burst from him at last.

"But for heaven's sake — you're wizards! You can do magic! Surely

you can sort out — well — anything!"

James smiled sadly and shook his head, "you poor deluded man, I pity you."

Scrimgeour turned slowly on the spot and exchanged an incredulous

look with Fudge, who really did manage a smile this time as he said

kindly, "The trouble is, the other side can do magic too, Prime

Minister."

"That pretty much sums the problem up nicely," said Alice.

And with that, the two wizards stepped one after the other into the

bright green fire and vanished.

"That is the first chapter over," announced Severus.

"Well that was a fairly ominous way to start the chapter," observed Albus,

"however having that perspective was very informative, it seems we are

now up to speed on what is happening in both worlds. Hopefully the next

chapter may have a lighter tone to it."

"Only way to find out Albus is if you read the thing," said Minerva

pointedly.

"I suppose that is my cue to relieve young Severus of the book then," said

Albus pleasantly, taking the book and turning to the next page.

AN: Thanks for reading, please review! Cheers!

2. Chapter 2

Spinners End

AN: Here is the next chapter, I know I am not updating as quickly as I like,

but uni and exams comes first, which means I have no real life or time. Oh

well such as life. I would love to thank everyone who reviewed the last

chapter, the response blew me away! Here is the next chapter, please enjoy.

As always I will point out that I don't own anything which you recognise.

Happy Reading! Cheers!

Albus Dumbledore opened the book to the second chapter, before his

formidable colleague could threaten to cause him bodily harm.

"Spinner's End" he read out pleasantly.

Severus raised his eyebrows, wondering why his home suburb was a

chapter title, and if he was going to be part of the forthcoming revelations.

"I think this is going to be another alternate perspective chapter," said

Hermione looking decidedly puzzled, "because I don't really recognise the

name, at least not in context of the events of the year."

"That is where you live don't you Sev?" said Lily.

"I am aware," said Severus snarkily, there was no need to tell him what he

already knew or let the marauders know, Merlin knows how much the

insufferable quartet annoyed him at school, he did not need them able to

bother him during the summer also.

Many miles away the chilly mist that had pressed against the Prime

Minister's windows drifted over a dirty river that wound between

overgrown, rubbish-strewn banks. An immense chimney, relic of a

disused mill, reared up, shadowy and ominous. There was no sound

apart from the whisper of the black water and no sign of life apart

from a scrawny fox that had slunk down the bank to nose hopefully at

some old fish-and-chip wrappings in the tall grass.

But then, with a very faint pop, a slim, hooded figure appeared out of

thin air on the edge of the river.

"I wonder who it is," said James.

"Obviously not Harry or one of his friends, as they haven't learnt to

apparate yet," said Remus.

The fox froze, wary eyes fixed upon this strange new phenomenon. The

figure seemed to take its bearings for a few moments, then set off with

light, quick strides, its long cloak rustling over the grass. With a second

and louder pop, another hooded figure materialized.

"Wait!"

"Then there were two," observed Frank wryly.

The harsh cry startled the fox, now crouching almost flat in the

undergrowth. It leapt from its hiding place and up the bank. There was

a flash of green light, a yelp, and the fox fell back to the ground, dead.

"My guess is a death eater," said Alice, "because from what I have

observed, the Order or aurors aren't quite that paranoid, Moody aside, even

then they aren't quite so hex-happy with the AK."

The second figure turned over the animal with its toe.

"Just a fox," said a woman's voice dismissively from under the hood. "I

thought perhaps an Auror — Cissy, wait!"

"Bella and Cissy," growled Sirius.

But her quarry, who had paused and looked back at the flash of light,

was already scrambling up the bank the fox had just fallen down.

"Cissy — Narcissa — listen to me —"

The second woman caught the first and seized her arm, but the other

wrenched it away.

"Go back, Bella!"

"You must listen to me!"

"I've listened already. I've made my decision. Leave me alone!"

"Wow, Cissy grew a backbone," commented Sirius.

"Not surprising," said Regulus, "considering you spent most of your

childhood helping her find it, after all there is only so many times you can

tease and prank someone before they finally retaliate."

"Ah yes, torture by lace patterns, who knew women could be so

vindictive?" replied Sirius.

The woman named Narcissa gained the top of the bank, where a line of

old railings separated the river from a narrow, cobbled street. The

other woman, Bella, followed at once. Side by side they stood looking

across the road at the rows and rows of dilapidated brick houses, their

windows dull and blind in the darkness.

"He lives here?" asked Bella in a voice of contempt. "Here? In this

Muggle dunghill? We must be the first of our kind ever to set foot —"

"Who is she talking about?" wondered James.

"Does it look like anyone, apart from the ever omniscient Hermione

Granger, actually knows?" questioned Alice.

James accepted her point, not realising that two other members of the room

were more than aware of the prospective homeowner, though if the others

paid attention to Lily's earlier observation, than they all would have known

for sure.

But Narcissa was not listening; she had slipped through a gap in the

rusty railings and was already hurrying across the road.

"Cissy, wait!"

Bella followed, her cloak streaming behind, and saw Narcissa darting

through an alley between the houses into a second, almost identical

street. Some of the streetlamps were broken; the two women were

running between patches of light and deep darkness. The pursuer

caught up with her prey just as she turned another corner, this time

succeeding in catching hold of her arm and swinging her around so

that they faced each other.

"Cissy, you must not do this, you can't trust him —"

"The Dark Lord trusts him, doesn't he?"

"The Dark Lord is… I believe… mistaken," Bella panted, and her eyes

gleamed momentarily under her hood as she looked around to check

that they were indeed alone.

"Bella doubting the judgement of the mouldy one? I never thought this day

would come," commented Regulus.

"In any case, we were told not to speak of the plan to anyone. This is a

betrayal of the Dark Lord's —"

"Let go, Bella!" snarled Narcissa, and she drew a wand from beneath

her cloak, holding it threateningly in the other's face. Bella merely

laughed.

"Cissy, your own sister? You wouldn't —"

"There is nothing I wouldn't do anymore!" Narcissa breathed, a note of

hysteria in her voice, and as she brought down the wand like a knife,

there was another flash of light. Bella let go of her sister's arm as

though burned.

"What has her knickers in a twist?" asked Frank.

"Knowing Cissa, the thing she values beyond all else is family," commented

Sirius cautiously, "so my guess is that something is threatening either Lucy

or Dracy. If the albino goose is still on the deserted island than I would

daresay that has not helped Narcissa either."

"Narcissa!"

But Narcissa had rushed ahead. Rubbing her hand, her pursuer

followed again, keeping her distance now, as they moved deeper into

the deserted labyrinth of brick houses. At last, Narcissa hurried up a

street named Spinner's End, over which the towering mill chimney

seemed to hover like a giant admonitory finger. Her footsteps echoed on

the cobbles as she passed boarded and broken windows, until she

reached the very last house, where a dim light glimmered through the

curtains in a downstairs room.

She had knocked on the door before Bella, cursing under her breath,

had caught up. Together they stood waiting, panting slightly, breathing

in the smell of the dirty river that was carried to them on the night

breeze. After a few seconds, they heard movement behind the door and

it opened a crack. A sliver of a man could be seen looking out at them,

a man with long black hair parted in curtains around a sallow face and

black eyes.

"Sounds rather like Snape," observed Alice.

Severus nodded seeing no point in denying it.

Narcissa threw back her hood. She was so pale that she seemed to shine

in the darkness; the long blonde hair streaming down her back gave

her the look of a drowned person.

"Narcissa!" said the man, opening the door a little wider, so that the

light fell upon her and her sister too. "What a pleasant surprise!

"Severus," she said in a strained whisper. "May I speak to you? It's

urgent."

"But of course."

He stood back to allow her to pass him into the house. Her still-hooded

sister followed without invitation.

"Snape," she said curtly as she passed him.

"Seems someone isn't in Bella's good graces," observed Regulus.

"Why would I want to be?" asked Severus.

"Bellatrix," he replied, his thin mouth curling into a slightly mocking

smile as he closed the door with a snap behind them.

They had stepped directly into a tiny sitting room, which had the

feeling of a dark, padded cell. The walls were completely covered in

books, most of them bound in old black or brown leather; a threadbare

sofa, an old armchair, and a rickety table stood grouped together in a

pool of dim light cast by a candle-filled lamp hung from the ceiling. The

place had an air of neglect, as though it was not usually inhabited.

Snape gestured Narcissa to the sofa. She threw off her cloak, cast it

aside, and sat down, staring at her white and trembling hands clasped

in her lap. Bellatrix lowered her hood more slowly. Dark as her sister

was fair, with heavily lidded eyes and a strong jaw, she did not take her

gaze from Snape as she moved to stand behind Narcissa.

"So, what can I do for you?" Snape asked, settling himself in the

armchair opposite the two sisters.

"We… we are alone, aren't we?" Narcissa asked quietly.

"Yes, of course. Well, Wormtail's here, but we're not counting vermin,

are we?"

"Wormtail is there?" asked James, "then why haven't you done anything to

catch him and clear Sirius' name?"

"Do you really hate me that much Potter?" asked Severus, "would you like

me to subject myself to death and torture at the hands of the dark lord for

being a traitor, in return for clearing the name of someone who is already

dead?"

As much as it annoyed him, Sirius could understand Snape's reasoning,

besides he had a suspicion that even if the future Pettigrew was brought

before the ministry, they wouldn't do anything more than they had already,

which was basically nothing, because Scrimgeour was head of the aurors

when he escaped and was unfairly and wrongly sentenced to the dementor's

kiss, if evidence about his innocence became public then Scrimgeour would

be up a creek without a paddle.

He pointed his wand at the wall of books behind him and with a bang, a

hidden door flew open, revealing a narrow staircase upon which a

small man stood frozen.

"As you have clearly realized, Wormtail, we have guests," said Snape

lazily.

The man crept, hunchbacked, down the last few steps and moved into

the room. He had small, watery eyes, a pointed nose, and wore an

unpleasant simper. His left hand was caressing his right, which looked

as though it was encased in a bright silver glove.

"Narcissa!" he said, in a squeaky voice. "And Bellatrix! How charming

—"

"Wormtail will get us drinks, if you'd like them," said Snape. "And

then he will return to his bedroom."

Wormtail winced as though Snape had thrown something at him.

"I am not your servant!" he squeaked, avoiding Snape's eye.

"Really? I was under the impression that the Dark Lord placed you

here to assist me."

"To assist, yes — but not to make you drinks and — and clean your

house!"

"I had no idea, Wormtail, that you were craving more dangerous

assignments," said Snape silkily. "This can be easily arranged: I shall

speak to the Dark Lord —"

"I can speak to him myself if I want to!"

"Of course you can," said Snape, sneering. "But in the meantime, bring

us drinks. Some of the elf-made wine will do."

Wormtail hesitated for a moment, looking as though he might argue,

but then turned and headed through a second hidden door. They heard

banging and a clinking of glasses. Within seconds he was back, bearing

a dusty bottle and three glasses upon a tray. He dropped these on the

rickety table and scurried from their presence, slamming the book-

covered door behind him.

Regulus almost pitied the future Pettigrew, being a reminder of his

childhood tormentors and having played a significant part in Lily's death, it

would not be surprising if Pettigrew wished he was in Azkaban rather than

at Snape's debatable mercy.

Snape poured out three glasses of bloodred wine and handed two of

them to the sisters. Narcissa murmured a word of thanks, whilst

Bellatrix said nothing, but continued to glower at Snape. This did not

seem to discompose him; on the contrary, he looked rather amused.

"The Dark Lord," he said, raising his glass and draining it.

"Why would you toast that sadistic bastard?" asked James.

"Given the company, who am I meant to toast, the Dalai Lama?" sneered

Severus.

"Why would Snape want to toast a woolly animal?" asked Remus looking

confused, "what is so special about a Dalai lama?"

A few people snorted, however no one wished to discuss the contentious

subject of Tibetan politics, so those who understood the reference preferred

to let the ignorant purebloods happily labour under the impression that the

Dalai Lama was actually a lama.

The sisters copied him. Snape refilled their glasses. As Narcissa took

her second drink she said in a rush, "Severus, I'm sorry to come here

like this, but I had to see you. I think you are the only one who can help

me —"

Snape held up a hand to stop her, then pointed his wand again at the

concealed staircase door. There was a loud bang and a squeal, followed

by the sound of Wormtail scurrying back up the stairs.

"My apologies," said Snape. "He has lately taken to listening at doors, I

don't know what he means by it… You were saying, Narcissa?"

She took a great, shuddering breath and started again.

"Severus, I know I ought not to be here, I have been told to say nothing

to anyone, but —"

"Then you ought to hold your tongue!" snarled Bellatrix. "Particularly

in present company!"

'"Present company'?" repeated Snape sardonically. "And what am I to

understand by that, Bellatrix?"

"That I don't trust you, Snape, as you very well know!"

Narcissa let out a noise that might have been a dry sob and covered her

face with her hands. Snape set his glass down upon the table and sat

back again, his hands upon the arms of his chair, smiling into

Bellatrix's glowering face.

"Indeed a pissed off Bella, without a wand or not being able to do magic, is

a rather amusing sight," smirked Sirius.

"Indeed," said Severus, "pity that she had a wand on her when she killed

you though. Gryffindor bravery only liking to take on unarmed opponents."

James looked ready to stand up and start hexing Snape for that retort,

however the fact that Sirius was merely shaking his head, finding a weird

sort of humour in the comment, stopped him. Sirius was in no way ready to

risk the wrath of the women in the room and hex anyone maliciously,

Narcissa and her lacy torture had nothing on a pissed off Lily Evans.

"Narcissa, I think we ought to hear what Bellatrix is bursting to say; it

will save tedious interruptions. Well, continue, Bellatrix," said Snape.

"Why is it that you do not trust me?"

"This should be interesting," commented Remus.

"Indeed Lupin, I am sure my future self lives to amuse you."

"A hundred reasons!" she said loudly, striding out from behind the

sofa to slam her glass upon the table. "Where to start! Where were you

when the Dark Lord fell? Why did you never make any attempt to find

him when he vanished? What have you been doing all these years that

you've lived in Dumbledore's pocket? Why did you stop the Dark Lord

procuring the Philosopher's Stone? Why did you not return at once

when the Dark Lord was reborn? Where were you a few weeks ago

when we battled to retrieve the prophecy for the Dark Lord? And why,

Snape, is Harry Potter still alive, when you have had him at your mercy

for five years?"

"It will be interesting to see the answer to these questions," commented

Albus.

She paused, her chest rising and falling rapidly, the color high in her

cheeks. Behind her, Narcissa sat motionless, her face still hidden in her

hands. Snape smiled.

"That's never good," said James.

"Before I answer you — oh yes, Bellatrix, I am going to answer! You

can carry my words back to the others who whisper behind my back,

and carry false tales of my treachery to the Dark Lord! Before I answer

you, I say, let me ask a question in turn. Do you really think that the

Dark Lord has not asked me each and every one of those questions?

And do you really think that, had I not been able to give satisfactory

answers, I would be sitting here talking to you?"

"Touché," conceded Sirius, "that was well played."

She hesitated.

"I know he believes you, but…"

"You think he is mistaken? Or that I have somehow hoodwinked him?

Fooled the Dark Lord, the greatest wizard, the most accomplished

Legilimens the world has ever seen?"

"Well either him or Albus," said Minerva, "I would personally prefer the

former in that case. But I daresay deceiving either of them is no mean feat."

Bellatrix said nothing, but looked, for the first time, a little discomfited.

"She would not be happy if the Dark Lord knew what she was implying,"

observed Regulus.

"Is that a suggestion?" asked Severus dryly.

Snape did not press the point. He picked up his drink again, sipped it,

and continued, "You ask where I was when the Dark Lord fell. I was

where he had ordered me to be, at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and

Wizardry, because he wished me to spy upon Albus Dumbledore. You

know, I presume, that it was on the Dark Lord's orders that I took up

the post?"

"What? The reason why you are a teacher is on his orders?" asked Remus.

"So it seems," said Albus calmly, "I am not surprised, after all Tom would

have had to have thought that he was in control, however I assure you that I

can just as resourceful as Tom himself when it is required."

Hermione wondered if resourceful was a code word for manipulative.

She nodded almost imperceptibly and then opened her mouth, but

Snape forestalled her.

"You ask why I did not attempt to find him when he vanished. For the

same reason that Avery, Yaxley, the Carrows, Greyback, (Remus

growled) Lucius"— he inclined his head slightly to Narcissa — "and

many others did not attempt to find him. I believed him finished. I am

not proud of it, I was wrong, but there it is… If he had not forgiven we

who lost faith at that time, he would have very few followers left."

"He'd have me!" said Bellatrix passionately. "I, who spent many years

in Azkaban for him!"

"Yes, indeed, most admirable," said Snape in a bored voice. "Of course,

you weren't a lot of use to him in prison, but the gesture was

undoubtedly fine —"

Sirius snorted, he always enjoyed watching someone tear into his delightful

cousin, even if it was Sniv- Severus.

"Gesture!" she shrieked; in her fury she looked slightly mad. "While I

endured the dementors, you remained at Hogwarts, comfortably

playing Dumbledore's pet!"

"I'm sorry, but if I had a choice of going to prison of living in a castle, I

don't think I would pick prison," said Regulus.

"Not quite," said Snape calmly. "He wouldn't give me the Defense

Against the Dark Arts job, you know. Seemed to think it might, ah,

bring about a relapse… tempt me into my old ways."

"I think that could be a sign that Albus liked him though," said Minerva,

"after all there is an unsettling trend regarding Defence Professors, I would

be more worried for Severus if Albus actually gave him the position."

Hermione wondered about the reaction to Severus' new subject would be

then.

"Why did I get the job then?" asked Remus.

"Probably because if there was a choice of dying and being seriously

injured, or having to eat your own food for another year, death and

destruction probably sounded pretty appealing," said James.

"This was your sacrifice for the Dark Lord, not to teach your favorite

subject?" she jeered. "Why did you stay there all that time, Snape?

Still spying on Dumbledore for a master you believed dead?"

"Hardly," said Snape, "although the Dark Lord is pleased that I never

deserted my post: I had sixteen years of information on Dumbledore to

give him when he returned, a rather more useful welcome-back present

than endless reminiscences of how unpleasant Azkaban is…"

"Why did you have to give information on the headmaster? After all he is

the reason you weren't thrown into Azkaban with all the other death eaters!"

James was still having trouble accepting that his youthful stereotypes of

good and evil, dark and light were not as they appeared to be and that 'bad'

things were sometimes done were done for good reasons. For someone who

grew up judging people on their actions alone, often blind to their

motivations, it was an immense transition, one which would no doubt cause

much conflict in the future.

"Because if he didn't return, or returned with nothing he would not be alive

at this particular point in the future," said Frank.

"But you stayed —"

"Yes, Bellatrix, I stayed," said Snape, betraying a hint of impatience

for the first time. "I had a comfortable job that I preferred to a stint in

Azkaban. They were rounding up the Death Eaters, you know.

Dumbledore's protection kept me out of jail; it was most convenient

and I used it. I repeat: The Dark Lord does not complain that I stayed,

so I do not see why you do.

"Teaching in a castle or being in prison with Bella," mused Sirius

sarcastically, "It seems to be a pretty tough choice... not."

"I think you next wanted to know," he pressed on, a little more loudly,

for Bellatrix showed every sign of interrupting, "why I stood between

the Dark Lord and the Philosopher's Stone. That is easily answered. He

did not know whether he could trust me. He thought, like you, that I

had turned from faithful Death Eater to Dumbledore's stooge. He was

in a pitiable condition, very weak, sharing the body of a mediocre

wizard. He did not dare reveal himself to a former ally if that ally

might turn him over to Dumbledore or the Ministry. I deeply regret

that he did not trust me. He would have returned to power three years

sooner. As it was, I saw only greedy and unworthy Quirrell attempting

to steal the stone and, I admit, I did all I could to thwart him."

"So you are saying that you WERE on his side?" said James, still having

trouble mentally processing everything.

"That is probably debatable one way or another," said Alice calmly, as

though discussing the weather, "though considering the Weird One's

sadism, I certainly wouldn't admit to actively trying to make the Mouldy

one kick the proverbial cauldron."

Regulus looked pensive wondering if it was possible for Severus to have

been able to sense the Dark Lord's presence though the mark and what

implications that might have for the reliability of "death eater Severus'"

story.

Bellatrix's mouth twisted as though she had taken an unpleasant dose

of medicine.

"But you didn't return when he came back, you didn't fly back to him

at once when you felt the Dark Mark burn —"

"Correct. I returned two hours later. I returned on Dumbledore's

orders."

"On Dumbledore's —?" she began, in tones of outrage.

"I'm guessing that thinking things through and being logical is not one of

your cousin's strong points," observed Frank, "because even I can see the

value of waiting and gaining trust, and I'm not either a death eater or a spy."

"Think!" said Snape, impatient again. "Think! By waiting two hours,

just two hours, I ensured that I could remain at Hogwarts as a spy! By

allowing Dumbledore to think that I was only returning to the Dark

Lord's side because I was ordered to, I have been able to pass

information on Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix ever since!

Consider, Bellatrix: The Dark Mark had been growing stronger for

months. I knew he must be about to return, all the Death Eaters knew!

I had plenty of time to think about what I wanted to do, to plan my

next move, to escape like Karkaroff, didn't I? The Dark Lord's initial

displeasure at my lateness vanished entirely, I assure you, when I

explained that I remained faithful, although Dumbledore thought I was

his man. Yes, the Dark Lord thought that I had left him forever, but he

was wrong."

"But what use have you been?" sneered Bellatrix. "What useful

information have we had from you?"

"No matter how little he bring, I daresay that it will be more than you

brought back from Azkaban, lovie," sneered Alice, who for some reason

was not fond of Bellatrix Lestrange.

"My information has been conveyed directly to the Dark Lord," said

Snape. "If he chooses not to share it with you —"

"He shares everything with me!" said Bellatrix, firing up at once. "He

calls me his most loyal, his most faithful —"

"Does he?" said Snape, his voice delicately inflected to suggest his

disbelief. "Does he still, after the fiasco at the Ministry?"

"You know Snape," said Sirius almost casually, "If you keep your attitude

with Bella up, I may actually start having to like you." He then gave an

exaggerated shiver at the thought. This caused a few snorts of laughter,

helping to fight against the looming darkness in the atmosphere.

"That was not my fault!" said Bellatrix, flushing. "The Dark Lord has,

in the past, entrusted me with his most precious — if Lucius hadn't —"

"Don't you dare — don't you dare blame my husband!" said Narcissa,

in a low and deadly voice, looking up at her sister.

"Cissa 101, family comes before all else," commented Regulus, "that is how

we were all raised, however the message got distorted at several points or is

only applied selectively." He sent Sirius a knowing look, who snorted

slightly.

"There is no point apportioning blame," said Snape smoothly. "What is

done, is done."

"But not by you!" said Bellatrix furiously. "No, you were once again

absent while the rest of us ran dangers, were you not, Snape?

"My orders were to remain behind," said Snape. "Perhaps you disagree

with the Dark Lord, perhaps you think that Dumbledore would not

have noticed if I had joined forces with the Death Eaters to fight the

Order of the Phoenix? And — forgive me — you speak of dangers…

you were facing six teenagers, were you not?"

"Touché"

"Thank goodness you said that, I was dying to point that out."

"I will admit that the six of you did extremely well, considering you were

out-numbered two to one, by fully fledged death eater with a cauldron full

of dark arts experience," said Regulus.

"They were joined, as you very well know, by half of the Order before

long!" snarled Bellatrix.

"Seems someone is feeling a tad defensive," cooed Alice sarcastically.

"And, while we are on the subject of the Order, you still claim you

cannot reveal the whereabouts of their headquarters, don't you?"

"I am not the Secret-Keeper; I cannot speak the name of the place. You

understand how the enchantment works, I think?

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, naughty Snape," said Regulus, "patronising Bella."

The Dark Lord is satisfied with the information I have passed him on

the Order. It led, as perhaps you have guessed, to the recent capture

and murder of Emmeline Vance, and it certainly helped dispose of

Sirius Black, though I give you full credit for finishing him off."

"WHAT! You greasy bastard! How could you!" said James, the death of his

best friend, coupled with his lingering dislike of Snape was proven to be a

rather potent combination, "did you hear that! He is the reason why Padfoot

is dead... he hasn't even batted an eyelid."

"Potter," said Regulus calmly, "we are all upset that my brother is dead.

However please note, that while we might have suspicions either way, none

of us know for certain which side the future Severus Snape is on. However

that doesn't matter completely in this conversation, because either way

Severus would respond the same way, whether it is the truth or he is

keeping his cover, we don't know, so take whatever he says as a grain of

salt, unless he is sticking it to my lovely cousin, and don't keep turning into

a rampaging hippogriff after every answer Severus gives."

He inclined his head and toasted her. Her expression did not soften.

"You are avoiding my last question, Snape. Harry Potter. You could

have killed him at any point in the past five years. You have not done it.

Why?"

"Have you discussed this matter with the Dark Lord?" asked Snape.

"He… lately, we… I am asking you, Snape!"

Sirius snickered, while there was the question of Snape's true loyalty which

had been raised, it was still amusing to watch someone stick it to his merry

murderess of a mad cousin.

"If I had murdered Harry Potter, the Dark Lord could not have used

his blood to regenerate, making him invincible —"

"You claim you foresaw his use of the boy!" she jeered.

"I do not claim it; I had no idea of his plans; I have already confessed

that I thought the Dark Lord dead. I am merely trying to explain why

the Dark Lord is not sorry that Potter survived, at least until a year

ago…"

"But why did you keep him alive?"

"Is Ms Lestrange an idiot?" asked Remus dryly, while he also was unsure

where Snape's loyalties truly lay at present... or future rather, he could still

predict the gist of the answer that was to be given.

"Apparently," said Frank dryly.

"Have you not understood me? It was only Dumbledore's protection

that was keeping me out of Azkaban! Do you disagree that murdering

his favorite student might have turned him against me? But there was

more to it than that. I should remind you that when Potter first arrived

at Hogwarts there were still many stories circulating about him,

rumors that he himself was a great Dark wizard, which was how he

had survived the Dark Lord's attack. Indeed, many of the Dark Lords

old followers thought Potter might be a standard around which we

could all rally once more. I was curious, I admit it, and not at all

inclined to murder him the moment he set foot in the castle.

"Is that true?" asked Lily, "did people really think he was a dark wizard?"

Hermione thought back to Harry telling her about the library in second year

and nodded, "unfortunately, yes. Especially during the chamber of secrets

incident where it was revealed that he was a parselmouth, most people

immediately assumed that he was dark and was a dark lord himself, which

is why he defeated Riddle as an infant."

"Of course, it became apparent to me very quickly that he had no

extraordinary talent at all. He has fought his way out of a number of

tight corners by a simple combination of sheer luck and more talented

friends.

He is mediocre to the last degree, though as obnoxious and self-satisfied

as was his father before him. I have done my utmost to have him

thrown out of Hogwarts, where I believe he scarcely belongs, but kill

him, or allow him to be killed in front of me? I would have been a fool

to risk it with Dumbledore close at hand."

"And through all this we are supposed to believe Dumbledore has never

suspected you?" asked Bellatrix. "He has no idea of your true

allegiance, he trusts you implicitly still?"

"Now that is an interesting question," observed Remus, sitting up a bit

straighter.

"I have played my part well," said Snape. "And you overlook

Dumbledore's greatest weakness: He has to believe the best of people. I

spun him a tale of deepest remorse when I joined his staff, fresh from

my Death Eater days, and he embraced me with open arms — though,

as I say, never allowing me nearer the Dark Arts than he could help.

Dumbledore has been a great wizard — oh yes, he has," (for Bellatrix

had made a scathing noise), "the Dark Lord acknowledges it. I am

pleased to say, however, that Dumbledore is growing old. The duel with

the Dark Lord last month shook him. He has since sustained a serious

injury because his reactions are slower than they once were. But

through all these years, he has never stopped trusting Severus Snape,

and therein lies my great value to the Dark Lord."

Dumbledore vaguely nodded at that statement, he could see some nuggets

of truth in that assessment of his character, however he felt that his

forgiveness was not quite so blind as what Severus dictated. He knew he

valued of second-chances, having been given one himself after the period

with Gellert as a child, but he always tempered them with judgement, while

it may sound arrogant, Albus believed that if he trusted Severus' redemption

in the future, than chances are that it was true. Although if Tom Riddle and

his followers only saw blind trust, then it was not his own fault that they

underestimated him.

"But the Headmaster was not injured in the battle was he?" asked Lily, "he

seemed fine."

"As far as I know, he was," said Hermione, "Professor Dumbledore's injury

occurred after." Hermione suppressed the urge to smile, knowing the future

Severus' allegiances helped her pick up clues about it in here, one being the

fact that Dumbledore's injury was implied to have occurred during the

battle, like Lily said, which nicely hid the fact that he was horcrux hunting.

"How?"

"You'll see."

"I'm really starting to hate those words you know."

Hermione simply chuckled.

Bellatrix still looked unhappy, though she appeared unsure how best to

attack Snape next. Taking advantage of her silence, Snape turned to

her sister.

"Now… you came to ask me for help, Narcissa?"

Narcissa looked up at him, her face eloquent with despair.

"Yes, Severus. I — I think you are the only one who can help me, I have

nowhere else to turn. Lucius is in jail and…"

She closed her eyes and two large tears seeped from beneath her

eyelids.

"The Dark Lord has forbidden me to speak of it," Narcissa continued,

her eyes still closed. "He wishes none to know of the plan. It is… very

secret. But —"

"If he has forbidden it, you ought not to speak," said Snape at once.

"The Dark Lord's word is law."

Narcissa gasped as though he had doused her with cold water. Bellatrix

looked satisfied for the first time since she had entered the house.

"There!" she said triumphantly to her sister. "Even Snape says so: You

were told not to talk, so hold your silence!"

"Shut up hag," said Frank, "I want to know what she has to say."

But Snape had gotten to his feet and strode to the small window, peered

through the curtains at the deserted street, then closed them again with

a jerk. He turned around to face Narcissa, frowning.

"It so happens that I know of the plan," he said in a low voice. "I am

one of the few the Dark Lord has told. Nevertheless, had I not been in

on the secret, Narcissa, you would have been guilty of great treachery

to the Dark Lord."

"I thought you must know about it!" said Narcissa, breathing more

freely. "He trusts you so, Severus…"

"That isn't going to make the weird one happy," predicted Alice.

"You know about the plan?" said Bellatrix, her fleeting expression of

satisfaction replaced by a look of outrage. "You know?"

"Certainly," said Snape. "But what help do you require, Narcissa? If

you are imagining I can persuade the Dark Lord to change his mind, I

am afraid there is no hope, none at all."

"What is the plan?" asked James suspicious, voicing the thought on

everyone's mind.

"Severus," she whispered, tears sliding down her pale cheeks. "My

son… my only son…"

Regulus sat up, he could guess what part of the plan was.

"It seems Draco is taking his father's place, as much as that kid is an

arrogant prat, he is going to be in for a year of pain, which includes the

wakeup call from hell."

Sirius looked grim, he understood what his brother was implying.

"What's happening?"

"Draco should be proud," said Bellatrix indifferently. "The Dark Lord

is granting him a great honour. And I will say this for Draco: I can see

he isn't shrinking away from his duty, he seems glad of a chance to

prove himself, excited at the prospect —"

"He's a death eater?" asked Lily, "but he is just a boy, he would only be

sixteen."

Regulus cleared his throat quietly, "I am sixteen," he pointed out, "age

doesn't matter to the dark lord, neither does your basic human rights for that

matter, like I said Draco Malfoy is in for a shock as he wakes up to reality."

"How could she be so excited about that? It is disgusting, he is making a

boy do a task for him and I doubt it is going to be pleasant by any measure,"

said Lily, overcome with disgust by Bellatrix's attitude, "what about

Narcissa as well, she is letting her son do this..."

"I think the point of the visit to me Lily, is that she doesn't want her son to

do this," pointed out Severus quietly.

"Evans, I will admit that Cissy is not my favourite cousin by any stretch of

the imagination, she is the perfect pureblood princess and has the attitude to

match, however one thing I will always credit her with is that she does

genuinely care for her family," said Sirius quietly, "I daresay if you waiting

long enough you will get quite the outburst from her."

Narcissa began to cry in earnest, gazing beseechingly all the while at

Snape.

"That's because he is sixteen and has no idea what lies in store! Why,

Severus? Why my son? It is too dangerous! This is vengeance for

Lucius's mistake, I know it!"

Snape said nothing. He looked away from the sight of her tears as

though they were indecent, but he could not pretend not to hear her.

"Seems something has not changed," said Lily, "you have always hated it

when people cry, particularly women, actually come to think of it most

emotional outbursts make you feel uncomfortable."

"That's why he's chosen Draco, isn't it?" she persisted. "To punish

Lucius?"

Regulus smiled grimly, Cissy has probably hit it right in one.

"If Draco succeeds," said Snape, still looking away from her, "he will

be honoured above all others."

"But he won't succeed!" sobbed Narcissa. "How can he, when the Dark

Lord himself —?"

Bellatrix gasped; Narcissa seemed to lose her nerve.

Dumbledore raised his silver eyebrows at that, well that slip of information

narrowed down the possibilities... as there were not many things which Tom

had yet to do, apart from loving someone, killing the younger Mr Potter and

himself, take over Hogwarts or the ministry. Out of all of these options he

didn't think that he was assign the former as a task to young Mr Malfoy,

which spelled an... interesting... future ahead.

"I only meant… that nobody has yet succeeded… Severus… please…

You are, you have always been, Draco's favourite teacher… You are

Lucius's old friend… I beg you… You are the Dark Lord's favourite,

his most trusted advisor… Will you speak to him, persuade him —?"

"I doubt Snape is suicidal," commented Frank, "From what I have heard,

the sadistic leader of the dark is rather set in his ways and probably

wouldn't appreciate whatever advice that Snape would give."

"The Dark Lord will not be persuaded, and I am not stupid enough to

attempt it," said Snape flatly. "I cannot pretend that the Dark Lord is

not angry with Lucius. Lucius was supposed to be in charge. He got

himself captured, along with how many others, and failed to retrieve

the prophecy into the bargain. Yes, the Dark Lord is angry, Narcissa,

very angry indeed."

"Then I am right, he has chosen Draco in revenge!" choked Narcissa.

"He does not mean him to succeed, he wants him to be killed trying!"

When Snape said nothing,

"That, that is horrible," said Lily, "how could anyone want to follow him?"

No one had any answer to that.

Narcissa seemed to lose what little self-restraint she still possessed.

Standing up, she staggered to Snape and seized the front of his robes.

Her face close to his, her tears falling onto his chest, she gasped, "You

could do it. You could do it instead of Draco, Severus. You would

succeed, of course you would, and he would reward you beyond all of

us -"

"That must be some task he wants done," said Remus, "a reward beyond all

of us..." he quoted.

"Oh it was," said Hermione grimly, "and no I won't say what it is."

Snape caught hold of her wrists and removed her clutching hands.

Looking down into her tearstained face, he said slowly, "He intends me

to do it in the end, I think. But he is determined that Draco should try

first. You see, in the unlikely event that Draco succeeds, I shall be able

to remain at Hogwarts a little longer, fulfilling my useful role as spy."

Albus' mind once again began to spin rapidly; it was obviously a Hogwarts

task, which made the assassination of himself or Harry to be the most

probable, although his instincts were telling him that Tom would not want

anyone to surpass him by killing Harry, which meant he was the most likely

target. However Albus, as usual, decided to keep his conclusions to himself,

as it would be intriguing to see the predictions and reactions of the room, as

more information became available.

"In other words, it doesn't matter to him if Draco is killed!"

"Course not," said Regulus bitterly, "his followers aren't people, they are

expendable pawns to him, mere numbers."

"All in all you're just another brick in the wall," quoted Hermione,

remembering a song.

"That is an accurate, but odd way to put it," said Regulus slightly confused

at the metaphor.

"Is that song out yet? Another Brick in the Wall?" asked Hermione.

Everyone gave her blank faces, "okay, awkward then, it is a muggle song,

which came out in the late 70's, but obviously not yet... okay shutting up

now..."

"The Dark Lord is very angry," repeated Snape quietly. "He failed to

hear the prophecy. You know as well as I do, Narcissa, that he does not

forgive easily."

She crumpled, falling at his feet, sobbing and moaning on the floor.

"My only son… my only son…"

"She really does love her son," said Alice.

"Surprising isn't it, considering he acts like a snot-nosed ferret most of the

time," said James.

"So did you," sneered Severus, "and it doesn't seem to have made your

mother stop loving you."

"Sev, James," scolded Lily, "that was rude... both of you."

"You should be proud!" said Bellatrix ruthlessly. "If I had sons, I

would be glad to give them up to the service of the Dark Lord!"

"And that honey," said Alice acidly, "is why we thank Merlin that you aren't

a mother."

Narcissa gave a little scream of despair and clutched at her long blonde

hair. Snape stooped, seized her by the arms, lifted her up, and steered

her back onto the sofa. He then poured her more wine and forced the

glass into her hand.

"Narcissa, that's enough. Drink this. Listen to me."

She quieted a little; slopping wine down herself, she took a shaky sip.

"It might be possible… for me to help Draco."

She sat up, her face paper-white, her eyes huge.

"Severus — oh, Severus — you would help him? Would you look after

him, see he comes to no harm?"

"I can try."

"That is rather loose," observed Frank.

She flung away her glass; it skidded across the table as she slid off the

sofa into a kneeling position at Snape's feet, seized his hand in both of

hers, and pressed her lips to it.

"If you are there to protect him… Severus, will you swear it? Will you

make the Unbreakable Vow?"

"Well this is interesting," said a wide-eyed Lily, voicing the thought of

everyone else in the room, whose collective jaw was in the general area of

the floor.

"The Unbreakable Vow?"

Snape's expression was blank, unreadable. Bellatrix, however, let out a

cackle of triumphant laughter.

"Aren't you listening, Narcissa? Oh, he'll try, I'm sure… The usual

empty words, the usual slithering out of action… oh, on the Dark

Lord's orders, of course!"

"She really doesn't like you," observed Regulus, diverting the attention for a

moment.

Snape did not look at Bellatrix. His black eyes were fixed upon

Narcissa's tear-filled blue ones as she continued to clutch his hand.

"Certainly, Narcissa, I shall make the Unbreakable Vow," he said

quietly. "Perhaps your sister will consent to be our Bonder."

Bellatrix's mouth fell open.

"I don't think she was expecting that," observed Remus.

"This means that Snape has to be a death eater, why else would he lock

himself into something as damning as an unbreakable vow, unless he was

truly on the Mouldy One's side," said James with a bit of a snarl.

Snape lowered himself so that he was kneeling opposite Narcissa.

Beneath Bellatrix's astonished gaze, they grasped right hands.

"You will need your wand, Bellatrix," said Snape coldly.

She drew it, still looking astonished.

"And you will need to move a little closer," he said.

She stepped forward so that she stood over them, and placed the tip of

her wand on their linked hands.

Narcissa spoke.

"Will you, Severus, watch over my son, Draco, as he attempts to fulfil

the Dark Lord's wishes?"

"I will," said Snape.

A thin tongue of brilliant flame issued from the wand and wound its

way around their hands like a red-hot wire.

Minerva nodded, that wasn't terribly damning at the moment.

"And will you, to the best of your ability, protect him from harm?"

"I will," said Snape.

A second tongue of flame shot from the wand and interlinked with the

first, making a fine, glowing chain.

"That is still not too bad yet," said Frank.

"And, should it prove necessary… if it seems Draco will fail…"

whispered Narcissa (Snape's hand twitched within hers, but he did not

draw away),

Albus raised an eyebrow as he noted the sign of hesitancy on Severus' part.

"will you carry out the deed that the Dark Lord has ordered Draco to

perform?"

There was a moment's silence. Bellatrix watched, her wand upon their

clasped hands, her eyes wide.

"I will," said Snape.

Lily gasped quietly.

Bellatrix's astounded face glowed red in the blaze of a third unique

flame, which shot from the wand, twisted with the others, and bound

itself thickly around their clasped hands, like a fiery snake.

"That is the end of a rather intriguing and informative chapter," concluded

the headmaster.

"Indeed," said James, "I think we have found someone out to be a real death

eater."

"Some of the things Snape said and did were rather suspicious," agreed

Remus mildly, seeing the validity in James' statement, agreeing with his

assessment of Snape's loyalties.

Lily looked torn, she did not want to believe that her friend was a true and

loyal deatheater, despite the evidence which seemed to mount up against

him.

Frank and Alice, both weren't sure what to believe, they could see

arguments for both, as it was obvious that Snape would have given the same

answers either way, however the willingness to partake in an unbreakable

vow was rather damning. But on the other hand again Severus' presence in

the room, as chosen by Hermione was also a clear indicator that Snape was

not a loyal death eater, or was at the very least redeemable.

Severus himself was introspective and quiet, he knew in himself that

especially now he would never willingly become a death eater, however

even if he did become one, he didn't think he would be able to continue to

be loyal to the man who was responsible for murdering his first ever and

perhaps only true friend. But he would admit to himself that he was scared.

Scared of what he now had to do thanks to the vow, added to the thought of

the reactions of those in the room, he was bloody petrified.

Regulus was quiet and was trying to think back and remember any critical

information, which would help him make an informed decision, however

presently he was more inclined to see Severus as anti-death eater, because

firstly he trusted Hermione's judgement in including him in the room as

well as his own personal knowledge of Severus, having known him for six

years and seen his friendship with the muggle-born Lily Evans and from his

observations made throughout the chapter.

Sirius' face was blank, he was ready to judge yet, or give away any of his

opinions into what seemed to him to be a rather anti-Snape room at present,

so he did what he was best at and changed the topic.

"I honestly don't care right now whether Snape is good or bad, he just spent

a chapter sticking to Bella, the bitch who murdered me, so that puts him in

my good books as far as I'm concerned!"

"As I said before, in either scenario, whether ultimately working for Albus,

Riddle or himself, Severus is extremely talented to be able to hoodwink one

or both of the two most powerful wizards of our age," said Minerva.

"I doubt there is anything which we can add to our assumptions from here,

so perhaps we should allow Minerva to read the next chapter, which might

be more illuminating," said Albus serenely, passing the book onto his

colleague.

AN: Thanks for reading, please review! Cheers!

3. Chapter 3

Will and Won'tAN: Here is another chapter. I would once again like to

thanks all those who have been reviewing, it has been really encouraging to

have recieved so much feedback. As usual I do not own anything that you

can recognise, as rights for Harry Potter go to JK Rowling etc, not to me :(.

I hope you enjoy this next installment. Happy reading! Cheers!

"This chapter is entitled Will and Won't,"

"That's... descriptive," supplied James.

"It appears to be focused on Mr Potter once again," observed Minerva

scanning the first few lines.

Hermione let out a sigh of relief, she was glad, it meant that she now

actually had a clue what was happening.

Harry Potter was snoring loudly.

"What a lovely way to start a chapter," said Alice with a grin.

"Ms Smith, I have read one sentence and already you are interrupting me,"

scolded Minerva.

"At least he's sleeping," said Remus, pointing out a positive.

He had been sitting in a chair beside his bedroom window for the best

part of four hours, staring out at the darkening street, and had finally

fallen asleep with one side of his face pressed against the cold

windowpane, his glasses askew and his mouth wide open. The misty fog

his breath had left on the window sparkled in the orange glare of the

streetlamp outside, and the artificial light drained his face of all colour,

so that he looked ghostly beneath his shock of untidy black hair.

"Harry, love," said Hermione shaking her head, "that wasn't the light, you

looked like a ghost for the entire year."

The room was strewn with various possessions and a good smattering

of rubbish. Owl feathers, apple cores, and sweet wrappers littered the

floor, a number of spellbooks lay higgledy-piggledy among the tangled

robes on his bed, and a mess of newspapers sat in a puddle of light on

his desk.

"At least that sounds like a normal teenagers room," said James.

"Don't ever go into their dorm," advised Lily, looking at Hermione, "it looks

like a bomb has ripped through there, how they find their underwear every

morning I don't know."

"Magic, love," said James, "that is the glorious power of summoning

charms."

"Besides," teased Sirius, "what makes you think we actually wear

underwear."

"You want us to test that theory Black?" asked Alice, twirling her wand.

"Oh Smith," Sirius cooed, "I never knew you felt that way."

"Please don't Alice," begged Hermione, having a suspicious feeling that

Alice would actually have the guts to make good on her threat, "I don't

think I could stand the mental scarring."

McGonagall let out a cough, disrupting the conversation, which she really

did not need to hear, and drew attention back to the book.

The headline of one blared:

HARRY POTTER: THE CHOSEN ONE?

Rumours continue to fly about the mysterious recent disturbance at the

Ministry of Magic, during which He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was

sighted once more.

"We're not allowed to talk about it, don't ask me anything" said one

agitated Obliviator, who refused to give his name as he left the Ministry

last night.

Nevertheless, highly placed sources within the Ministry have confirmed

that the disturbance centred on the fabled Hall of Prophecy. Though

Ministry spokeswizards have hitherto refused even to confirm the

existence of such a place, a growing number of the Wizarding

community believe that the Death Eaters now serving sentences in

Azkaban for trespass and attempted theft were attempting to steal a

prophecy. The nature of that prophecy is unknown, although

speculation is rife that it concerns Harry Potter, the only person ever

known to have survived the Killing Curse, and who is also known to

have been at the Ministry on the night in question. Some are going so

far as to call Potter "the Chosen One," believing that the prophecy

names him as the only one who will be able to rid us of He-Who-Must-

No t-Be-Named.

The current whereabouts of the prophecy, if it exists, are unknown,

although {ctd. page2, column 5)

Sirius snorted dryly, "seems that the ministry is still relying heavily on the

prophet."

"That doesn't favour the ministry at all though, it seemed surprising

accurate," pointed out Lily.

"Which is suspicious since they had no real source of information,

Scrimgeour (that is the minister correct?) , is obviously using the prophet as

a way of calming public anxiety, as well as shifting the responsibility of the

war onto Harry, rather than having to bear the burden themselves, which

makes it a load of propaganda and utter tripe," said Sirius cynically,

"although for once accurate tripe, which is more coincidence than anything

else."

A second newspaper lay beside die first. This one bore the headline:

SCRIMGEOUR SUCCEEDS FUDGE

Most of this front page was taken up with a large black-and-white

picture of a man with a lionlike mane of thick hair and a rather

ravaged face. The picture was moving — the man was waving at the

ceiling.

Rufus Scrimgeour, previously Head of the Auror office in the

Department of Magical Law Enforcement, has succeeded Cornelius

Fudge as Minister of Magic. The appointment has largely been greeted

with enthusiasm by the Wizarding community, though rumors of a rift

between the new Minister and Albus Dumbledore, newly reinstated

Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, surfaced within hours of

Scrimgeour taking office.

Albus smiled, he wasn't at all surprised, oh well that is part of the fun...

apologies, job description.

Scrimgeour's representatives admitted that he had met with

Dumbledore at once upon taking possession of the top job, but refused

to comment on the topics under discussion. Albus Dumbledore is

known to (ctd. page 3, column 2)

To the left of this paper sat another, which had been folded so that a

story bearing the title ministry guarantees students' safety was visible.

"But Hogwarts is safe," said Lily, "it is the safest place in Britain, with the

headmaster there."

Hermione suppressed the urge to snort, she was genuinely beginning to like

Lily, though she admittedly had a stronger affinity for the boys, however

Lily's idealism grated on her, particularly because she knew that she used to

be like that too, before the war jaded her. Looking back the idea that

Hogwarts was completely safe was utter rubbish, in first year there was

Fluffy, Quirrellmort and the troll, second year was the obliviator extrodinare

and the Basilisk; third was swarms of dementors and an "escaped mass

murderer" who managed to penetrate the grounds; fourth was dragons and

death eaters both visible and in disguise, while the fifth year was Dolores

freaking Umbridge and her bloody quill (pun intended). Oh yes, Hogwarts

was safe, safe indeed.

Newly appointed Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, spoke today of

the tough new measures taken by his Ministry to ensure the safety of

students returning to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this

autumn.

"For obvious reasons, the Ministry will not be going into detail about its

stringent new security plans," said the Minister, although an insider

confirmed that measures include defensive spells and charms, a

complex array of countercurses, and a small task force of Aurors

dedicated solely to the protection of Hogwarts School.

Most seem reassured by the new Minister's tough stand on student

safety. Said Mrs. Augusta Longbottom, "My grandson, Neville — a

good friend of Harry Potter's, incidentally, who fought the Death

Eaters alongside him at the Ministry in June and —

"Wow, Mum is mentioned," said Frank, "good to see she is peddling my

son's questionable fame, though in her own way it means that she is proud

of him, which is good. I will admit though that seemed more like Mum's

chance to flaunt Neville rather than actually say how much she supported

the safety measures."

But the rest of this story was obscured by the large birdcage, standing

on top of it. Inside it was a magnificent snowy owl. Her amber eyes

surveyed the room imperiously, her head swivelling occasionally to gaze

at her snoring master. Once or twice she clicked her beak impatiently,

but Harry was too deeply asleep to hear her.

A large trunk stood in the very middle of the room. Its lid was open; it

looked expectant; yet it was almost empty but for a residue of old

underwear, sweets, empty ink bottles, and broken quills that coated the

very bottom.

"Considering that boy lives out of his suitcase, I suppose I shouldn't be

surprised," said Hermione shaking her head, affectionately.

Nearby, on the floor, lay a purple leaflet emblazoned with the words:

— — ISSUED ON BEHALF OF — —

The Ministry of Magic

PROTECTING YOUR HOME AND FAMILY AGAINST DARK

FORCES

The Wizarding community is currently under threat from an

organization calling itself the Death Eaters. Observing the following

simple security guidelines will help protect you, your family, and your

home from attack.

1. You are advised not to leave the house alone.

2. Particular care should be taken during the hours of darkness.

Wherever possible, arrange to complete journeys before night has

fallen.

3. Review the security arrangements around your house, making sure

that all family members are aware of emergency measures such as

Shield and Disillusionment Charms, and, in the case of underage family

members, Side-Along-Apparition.

4. Agree on security questions with close friends and family so as to

detect Death Eaters masquerading as others by use of the Polyjuice

Potion (see page 2).

5. Should you feel that a family member, colleague, friend, or

neighbour is acting in a strange manner, contact the Magical Law

Enforcement Squad at once. They may have been put under the

Imperius Curse (see page 4).

6. Should the Dark Mark appear over any dwelling place or other

building, DO NOT ENTER, but contact the Auror office immediately.

7. Unconfirmed sightings suggest that the Death Eaters may now be

using Inferi (see page 10). Any sighting of an Inferius, or encounter

with same, should be reported to the Ministry IMMEDIATELY.

"Were any other pamphlets published for muggle born households?" asked

Lily, "because there wouldn't be much that a muggle born could do at home

about side-along apparition or to evade the death eaters, especially if they

are underage, and that is who is being targeted by him and his followers."

"No the ministry did nothing else for muggleborns, the pamphlet was utter

rubbish, but the Order did a lot to help though," said Hermione, "from what

I was told they used the registrar from Hogwarts to locate the homes of all

the families and put basic wards that would block death eaters from

entering, and alert the order, this was apparently done for all the families of

the current and future students."

Albus nodded, "that is similar to what we do presently; however we

currently do it with the minister's blessing."

"I don't think that is the case this time, from what I understood it was all

done rather covertly, though if Scrimgeour knew then he didn't do anything

actively stop it," said Hermione.

"May I ask how you knew all this, considering you are not yet a member of

the Order?" asked Minerva.

"It was something I asked, because I was worried that there wouldn't be any

protection for my parents and that they might have been attacked," said

Hermione.

"So to sum up," said Sirius, "the ministry are continuing to do nothing of

use and leaving all the work to the order."

Harry grunted in his sleep and his face slid down the window an inch

or so, making his glasses still more lopsided, but he did not wake up.

An alarm clock, repaired by Harry several years ago, ticked loudly on

the sill, showing one minute to eleven. Beside it, held in place by

Harry's relaxed hand, was a piece of parchment covered in thin,

slanting writing. Harry had read this letter so often since its arrival

three days ago that although it had been delivered in a tightly furled

scroll, it now lay quite flat.

Minerva raised an eyebrow in surprise at the content of the message.

Dear Harry,

If it is convenient to you, I shall call at number four, Privet Drive this

coming Friday at eleven p.m. to escort you to the Burrow, where you

have been invited to spend the remainder of your school holidays.

If you are agreeable, I should also be glad of your assistance in a matter

to which I hope to attend on the way to the Burrow. I shall explain this

more fully when I see you.

Kindly send your answer by return of this owl. Hoping to see you this

Friday,

I am yours most sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Remus let out a low whistle, he had a feeling that the headmaster didn't

send letters or personally escort students all that often.

"I wonder what is going to happen here," said James, voicing what was on

everyone's mind.

Though he already knew it by heart, Harry had been stealing glances at

this missive every few minutes since seven o'clock that evening, when

he had first taken up his position beside his bedroom window, which

had a reasonable view of both ends of Privet Drive. He knew it was

pointless to keep rereading Dumbledore's words; Harry had sent back

his "yes" with the delivering owl, as requested, and all he could do now

was wait: Either Dumbledore was going to come, or he was not.

"Why wouldn't he come though?" asked Lily, "the headmaster doesn't really

seem the type to be unreliable."

"It is probably the oddness of the situation, it must be a bit disconcerting to

be having your headmaster visit you during the holidays," deduced James.

But Harry had not packed. It just seemed too good to be true that he

was going to be rescued from the Dursleys after a mere fortnight of

their company. He could not shrug off the feeling that something was

going to go wrong — his reply to Dumbledore's letter might have gone

astray; Dumbledore could be prevented from collecting him; the letter

might turn out not to be from Dumbledore at all, but a trick or joke or

trap. Harry had not been able to face packing and then being let down

and having to unpack again. The only gesture he had made to the

possibility of a journey was to shut his snowy owl, Hedwig, safely in her

cage.

"That isn't very organised," said Lily, with a slight frown.

Hermione smiled, "it only takes him about five minutes to pack whenever

he goes anywhere anyway, he doesn't honestly have all that much stuff, Ron

on the other hand," she smiled softly at the memory, "he hated packing and

always made a fuss and took forever, probably to try and get someone to

take pity on him and do it for him... lazy sod, although admittedly, a lovable

lazy sod."

The minute hand on the alarm clock reached the number twelve and, at

that precise moment, the street-lamp outside the window went out.

Harry awoke as though the sudden darkness were an alarm. Hastily

straightening his glasses and unsticking his cheek from the glass, he

pressed his nose against the window instead and squinted down at the

pavement. A tall figure in a long, billowing cloak was walking up the

garden path.

Severus suddenly smiled, somewhat viciously, "I wonder if Tuney and the

walrus are still up?"

Harry jumped up as though he had received an electric shock, knocked

over his chair, and started snatching anything and everything within

reach from the floor and throwing it into the trunk. Then as he lobbed

a set of robes, two spellbooks, and a packet of clasps across the room,

the doorbell rang. Downstairs in the living room his Uncle Vernon

shouted, "Who the blazes is calling at this time of night?"

Harry froze with a brass telescope in one hand and a pair of trainers in

the other. He had completely forgotten to warn the Dursleys that

Dumbledore might be coming.

"Whoops?" asked James innocently, with a smile that in no way reflected

his tone.

Feeling both panicky and close to laughter, he clambered over the

trunk and wrenched open his bedroom door in time to hear a deep

voice say, "Good evening. You must be Mr. Dursley. I daresay Harry

has told you I would be coming for him?"

Harry ran down the stairs two at a time, coming to an abrupt halt

several steps from the bottom, as long experience had taught him to

remain out of arm's reach of his uncle whenever possible.

Hermione, Lily and several other scowled darkly at that comment.

There in the doorway stood a tall, thin man with waist-length silver

hair and beard. Half-moon spectacles were perched on his crooked

nose, and he was wearing a long black travelling cloak and a pointed

hat. Vernon Dursley, whose moustache was quite as bushy as

Dumbledore's, though black, and who was wearing a puce dressing

gown, was staring at the visitor as though he could not believe his tiny

eyes.

"Judging by your look of stunned disbelief, Harry did not warn you

that I was coming," said Dumbledore pleasantly. "However, let us

assume that you have invited me warmly into your house. It is unwise

to linger overlong on doorsteps in these troubled times."

This generated a few smiles, it would be somewhat interesting and amusing

to see how Dumbledore handled the Dursleys.

He stepped smartly over the threshold and closed the front door behind

him.

"It is a long time since my last visit," said Dumbledore, peering down

his crooked nose at Uncle Vernon. "I must say, your agapanthus are

flourishing."

Vernon Dursley said nothing at all. Harry did not doubt that speech

would return to him, and soon — the vein pulsing in his uncles temple

was reaching danger point — but something about Dumbledore seemed

to have robbed him temporarily of breath. It might have been the

blatant wizardishness of his appearance, but it might, too, have been

that even Uncle Vernon could sense that here was a man whom it would

be very difficult to bully.

Albus merely smiled serenely, with the ever-present twinkle shining

brightly in his eye.

"Ah, good evening Harry," said Dumbledore, looking up at him

through his half-moon glasses with a most satisfied expression.

"Excellent, excellent."

These words seemed to rouse Uncle Vernon. It was clear that as far as

he was concerned, any man who could look at Harry and say

"excellent" was a man with whom he could never see eye to eye.

"Must be a Potter trait," said Alice, "I remember Lily saying something

remarkably similar a few years ago."

"I don't mean to be rude —" he began, in a tone that threatened

rudeness in every syllable.

"— yet, sadly, accidental rudeness occurs alarmingly often,"

Dumbledore finished the sentence gravely. "Best to say nothing at all,

my dear man. Ah, and this must be Petunia."

A few people grinned at that statement, and waited eagerly for Petunia

Dursley's debut in this book.

The kitchen door had opened, and there stood Harry's aunt, wearing

rubber gloves and a housecoat over her nightdress, clearly halfway

through her usual pre-bedtime wipe-down of all the kitchen surfaces.

Her rather horsey face registered nothing but shock.

"Albus Dumbledore," said Dumbledore, when Uncle Vernon failed to

effect an introduction. "We have corresponded, of course." Harry

thought this an odd way of reminding Aunt Petunia that he had once

sent her an exploding letter, but Aunt Petunia did not challenge the

term.

"No," said Lily, "Tuney also sent him a letter when I started Hogwarts, to

see if she could go too."

"Indeed," said Albus, "It was quite a nice letter as well, she seems to truly

love her sister and wanted nothing more than to have the chance to look out

for you while you were here. I was very sad to have been the cause of such

a separation."

"Petunia Evans is not the first sibling to ever have written to Hogwarts

either," said Minerva, "we get one such letter from a sibling every few

years, it is always so sad to have to turn them away."

"And this must be your son, Dudley?"

Dudley had that moment peered round the living room door, his large,

blond head rising out of the stripy collar of his pyjamas looked oddly

disembodied, his mouth gaping in astonishment and fear. Dumbledore

waited a moment or two, apparently to see whether any of the Dursleys

were going to say anything, but as the silence stretched on he smiled.

"Shall we assume that you have invited me into your sitting room?"

"You certainly aren't backwards in coming forwards are you Professor,"

commented James.

"I see no reason to be, if nothing else it saves time, or provides some rather

amusing reactions."

Dudley scrambled out of the way as Dumbledore passed him. Harry,

still clutching the telescope and trainers, jumped the last few stairs and

followed Dumbledore, who had settled himself in the armchair nearest

the fire and was taking in the surroundings with an expression of

benign interest. He looked quite extraordinarily out of place.

"Aren't — aren't we leaving, sir?" Harry asked anxiously.

"Yes, indeed we are, but there are a few matters we need to discuss

first," said Dumbledore. "And I would prefer not to do so in the open.

We shall trespass upon your aunt and uncle's hospitality only a little

longer."

"You will, will you?"

"Apparently so, seems he doesn't really have much choice in the matter,"

said Remus, with a faint note of amusement resonating throughout his

voice.

Vernon Dursley had entered the room, Petunia at his shoulder, and

Dudley skulking behind them both.

"Yes," said Dumbledore simply, "I shall."

He drew his wand so rapidly that Harry barely saw it; with a casual

flick, the sofa zoomed forward and knocked the knees out from under

all three of the Dursleys so that they collapsed upon it in a heap.

Another flick of the wand and the sofa zoomed back to its original

position.

"We may as well be comfortable," said Dumbledore pleasantly.

The room, even the Professors, cracked up at that.

"I knew there was a reason we liked you Professor," said James between

laughs, "you have an awesome sense of humour!"

"Why thank you Mr Potter," said Albus amused, "I suppose it is rather

convenient for you, otherwise your stay at this school would have been

wrought with many more difficulties, I cannot see many of my predecessors

taking kindly to the theft of their undergarments."

The marauders smiled guiltily.

As he replaced his wand in his pocket, Harry saw that his hand was

blackened and shriveled; it looked as though his flesh had been burned

away.

"What happened?" asked James immediately sobering.

"I'm guessing that is the injury he sustained, which Severus was referring

to," said Frank, thinking back to the last chapter.

"Sir — what happened to your —?"

"Later, Harry," said Dumbledore. "Please sit down."

Harry took the remaining armchair, choosing not to look at the

Dursleys, who seemed stunned into silence.

"I would assume that you were going to offer me refreshment,"

Dumbledore said to Uncle Vernon, "but the evidence so far suggests

that that would be optimistic to the point of foolishness."

There were a few snorts at that comment.

A third twitch of the wand, and a dusty bottle and five glasses appeared

in midair. The bottle tipped and poured a generous measure of honey-

colored liquid into each of the glasses, which then floated to each

person in the room.

"Madam Rosmertas finest oak-matured mead," said Dumbledore,

raising his glass to Harry, who caught hold of his own and sipped.

"Good choice," said Frank approvingly, "that stuff is good."

Minerva nodded in agreement, however in her opinion nothing could be a

good, muggle, malted scotch whiskey and she had a feeling that said bottle

would be opened before the week was out.

He had never tasted anything like it before, but enjoyed it immensely.

The Dursleys, after quick, scared looks at one another, tried to ignore

their glasses completely, a difficult feat, as they were nudging them

gently on the sides of their heads.

There were several chuckles, as the room appreciated the humour present in

the situation.

Harry could not suppress a suspicion that Dumbledore was rather

enjoying himself.

Dumbledore's response to that dastardly accusation was to have his eyes

twinkle even brighter, which everyone deduced to mean agreement.

"Well, Harry," said Dumbledore, turning toward him, "a difficulty has

arisen which I hope you will be able to solve for us. By us, I mean the

Order of the Phoenix. But first of all I must tell you that Sirius's will

was discovered a week ago and that he left you everything he owned."

"I doubt there was anyone else he could give it too," said Regulus.

"It would be yours if you didn't die on me, you little bugger."

"Thanks brother, I'm really feeling the love."

"I can see the point though," said Sirius, "Harry is probably as good as a son

to me, as well as probably being the closest eligible blood relative I could

give it to."

"How is that?" asked Hermione, "never really finding out the logistics of

how the will would work."

"Heir has to be a male, directly descended from the Black line," quoted

Regulus.

"But Potter isn't a Black," pointed out Severus.

"Jamesie-boy, what is Aunt Dora's name?" sang Sirius.

"My mum?" said James, "Dorea Potter."

"Née?"

"Black."

From this Regulus took over again, "which means that James and by

extension Harry are direct descendants from the House of Black, which

means they are eligible to inherit. Which is probably just as well because

the closest male is Draco, which would give the wealth and Black

knowledge to the Dark Lord, which is something one must avoid at all

costs."

"Why couldn't Tonks inherit?" asked Hermione, "apart from the paternal

connection Sirius had for Harry."

"Two reasons," said Sirius, "one is that Andie was disowned by Uncle

Ciggy when she married Teddy-bear, I could inherit because Dad has never

taken me off, only mother. The second is that Nymphie and Andie are both

females, while females can leave inheritances, they are unable to be the

primary beneficiary in the Black line, due to all that shared knowledge and

possessive nature of pureblood families wanting to preserve their lines and

all that other rubbish we talked about in the last book."

"Can I ask a question?" injected Lily.

"I think you already did Evans," said Smith shaking her head.

"Why isn't there a will reading?"

"They generally don't occur in the wizarding world as magic usually takes

care of most of it and changes the deeds according to will, which are

magically activated upon death, any extra objects bestowed, outside of

gringotts accounts and housing and anything with a written deed, are

distributed by the ministry, which are alerted, again by magic, when they

need to redistribute someone's possessions and usually they will alert the

recipient if they don't already know," explained Frank, taking his turn at

explaining the pureblood traditions.

"Since Harry was left everything, there is no need for the ministry to be

involved, although they are alerted when a will is executed," said Alice,

"which is pretty much a stroke of genius by Sirius, because the ministry has

no way to get involved, they will know that Harry gets everything, but not

what he gets and most of the stuff will be in the house under fidelius, so

they will never find out anyway."

"That was... informative," said Lily, her mind spinning from pureblood

tradition overload.

Over on the sofa, Uncle Vernons head turned, but Harry did not look at

him, nor could he think of anything to say except, "Oh. Right."

"This is, in the main, fairly straightforward," Dumbledore went on.

"You add a reasonable amount of gold to your account at gringotts,

and you inherit all of Sirius's personal possessions. The slightly

problematic part of the legacy —"

"His godfather's dead?" said Uncle Vernon loudly from the sofa.

"Dang," said Sirius, "that means Harry loses his leverage."

"If he is absent he won't need any leverage though," pointed out Frank.

Dumbledore and Harry both turned to look at him. The glass of mead

was now knocking quite insistently on the side of Vernons head; he

attempted to beat it away. "He's dead? His godfather?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore. He did not ask Harry why he had not confided

in the Dursleys. "Our problem," he continued to Harry, as if there had

been no interruption, "is that Sirius also left you number twelve,

Grimmauld Place."

"He's been left a house?" said Uncle Vernon greedily, his small eyes

narrowing, but nobody answered him.

"You can keep using it as headquarters," said Harry. "I don't care. You

can have it, I don't really want it." Harry never wanted to set foot in

number twelve, Grimmauld Place again if he could help it. He thought

he would be haunted forever by the memory of Sirius prowling its dark

musty rooms alone, imprisoned within the place he had wanted so

desperately to leave.

Hermione smiled, she knew that changed somewhat when Kreacher

changed his attitude, Harry became attached to the house and the fact that

he was able to share an aspect of his life with Sirius.

"That is generous," said Dumbledore. "We have, however, vacated the

building temporarily."

"Why?"

"Well," said Dumbledore, ignoring the mutterings of Uncle Vernon,

who was now being rapped smartly over the head by the persistent

glass of mead,

Once again chuckles filled the room.

"Black family tradition decreed that the house was handed down the

direct line, to the next male with the name of 'Black.' Sirius was the

very last of the line as his younger brother, Regulus, predeceased him

and both were childless. While his will makes it perfectly plain that he

wants you to have the house, it is nevertheless possible that some spell

or enchantment has been set upon the place to ensure that it cannot be

owned by anyone other than a pureblood."

"There is," said Sirius, "however it is easier to remove than the one to allow

women to inherit, and I probably had to do something while I was staying

there."

"Mother would almost be proud," snickered Regulus, "you took the time to

learn the prestigious ways of the most noble and ancient house of black,

although admittedly not for any reason she would approve of.

A vivid image of the shrieking, spitting portrait of Sirius's mother that

hung in the hall of number twelve, Grimmauld Place flashed into

Harry's mind. "I bet there has," he said.

Without realizing what he was doing, Harry sprang to his feet; the

telescope and trainers in his lap rolled across the floor. Bellatrix

Lestrange, Sirius's killer, inherit his house?

"It would go to Draco," said Regulus, "but that is quite frankly almost as

bad. I can definitely understand Harry's anger."

"No," he said.

"Well, obviously we would prefer that she didn't get it either," said

Dumbledore calmly. "The situation is fraught with complications. We

do not know whether the enchantments we ourselves have placed upon

it, for example, making it Unplottable, will hold now that ownership

has passed from Sirius's hands. It might be that Bellatrix will arrive on

the doorstep at any moment. Naturally we had to move out until such

time as we have clarified the position."

"But how are you going to find out if I'm allowed to own it?"

"Fortunately," said Dumbledore, "there is a simple test."

"What?" asked Severus.

"Kreacher," said Regulus, with absolutely no emotion, which for those who

knew him well enough, so at that point really only Sirius, could tell that he

was still upset by Kreacher's betrayal of Sirius and was having trouble

reconciling Kreacher as his friend and companion to the Kreacher who

killed his brother.

He placed his empty glass on a small table beside his chair, but before

he could do anything else, Uncle Vernon shouted, "Will you get these

ruddy things off us?"

Harry looked around; all three of the Dursleys were cowering with

their arms over their heads as their glasses bounced up and down on

their skulls, their contents flying everywhere.

The mental image was indeed rather amusing, and created many a-smile in

the room.

"We have to do that sometime," said James.

"Agreed," said Remus and Sirius.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," said Dumbledore politely, and he raised his wand

again. All three glasses vanished. "But it would have been better

manners to drink it, you know."

That comment however caused mass amounts of laughter and snorts of

amusement from all within the room. Even McGonagall cracked a smile at

her colleagues' sense of humour.

It looked as though Uncle Vernon was bursting with any number of

unpleasant retorts, but he merely shrank back into the cushions with

Aunt Petunia and Dudley and said nothing, keeping his small piggy

eyes on Dumbledore's wand.

"You see," Dumbledore said, turning back to Harry and again speaking

as though Uncle Vernon had not uttered, "if you have indeed inherited

the house, you have also inherited —"

He flicked his wand for a fifth time. There was a loud crack, and a

house-elf appeared, with a snout for a nose, giant bat's ears, and

enormous bloodshot eyes, crouching on the Dursleys' shag carpet and

covered in grimy rags. Aunt Petunia let out a hair-raising shriek;

nothing this filthy had entered her house in living memory. Dudley

drew his large, bare, pink feet off the floor and sat with them raised

almost above his head, as though he thought the creature might run up

his pajama trousers, and Uncle Vernon bellowed, "What the hell is

that?"

"I'm sure Tuney loved seeing Kreacher, he is abnormal to her and also is

dirty and unkept," said Lily, "the look on her face would be priceless."

"Kreacher," finished Dumbledore.

"Kreacher won't, Kreacher won't, Kreacher won't!" croaked the

house-elf, quite as loudly as Uncle Vernon, stamping his long, gnarled

feet and pulling his ears. "Kreacher belongs to Miss Bellatrix, oh yes,

Kreacher belongs to the Blacks, Kreacher wants his new mistress,

Kreacher won't go to the Potter brat, Kreacher won't, won't, won't —"

"Oh yes," sneered Snape, "I'm sure Lestrange will treat him with love and

kindness."

"She doesn't even know how to do that with people, let alone inferior

beings," said Sirius acidly.

"As you can see, Harry," said Dumbledore loudly, over Kreacher's

continued croaks of "wont, won't, won't," "Kreacher is showing a

certain reluctance to pass into your ownership."

"I don't care," said Harry again, looking with disgust at the writhing,

stamping house-elf. "I don't want him."

"Won't, won't, won't, won't —"

"You would prefer him to pass into the ownership of Bellatrix

Lestrange? Bearing in mind that he has lived at the headquarters of the

Order of the Phoenix for the past year?"

"He is definitely Harry's," said Regulus, "if he was Bella's he would already

be in her dubious care, rather than protesting against going into Harry's."

"Won't, won't, won't, won't —"

Harry stared at Dumbledore. He knew that Kreacher could not be

permitted to go and live with Bellatrix Lestrange, but the idea of

owning him, of having responsibility for the creature that had betrayed

Sirius, was repugnant.

"Give him an order," said Dumbledore. "If he has passed into your

ownership, he will have to obey. If not, then we shall have to think of

some other means of keeping him from his rightful mistress."

"Won't, won't, won't, WON'T!"

Kreacher's voice had risen to a scream. Harry could think of nothing to

say, except,

"Kreacher, shut up!"

"That works," said James.

It looked for a moment as though Kreacher was going to choke. He

grabbed his throat, his mouth still working furiously, his eyes bulging.

After a few seconds of frantic gulping, he threw himself face forward

onto the carpet (Aunt Petunia whimpered) and beat the floor with his

hands and feet, giving himself over to a violent, but entirely silent,

tantrum.

"Seems Harry has won one murderous, angry and childish house-elf...

kudos to him," said Remus dryly, "he is going to have fun."

"Should I fear for Kreacher's life expectancy?" asked Regulus, knowing that

Harry probably wouldn't take kindly to having a contributing factor of

Sirius' death so close. He knew that he was having problems thinking about

Kreacher and he had some pleasant memories of the elf.

"Well, that simplifies matters," said Dumbledore cheerfully. "It means

that Sirius knew what he was doing. You are the rightful owner of

number twelve, Grimmauld Place and of Kreacher."

"Do I — do I have to keep him with me?" Harry asked, aghast, as

Kreacher thrashed around at his feet.

"Not if you don't want to," said Dumbledore. "If I might make a

suggestion, you could send him to Hogwarts to work in the kitchen

there. In that way, the other house-elves could keep an eye on him."

"You have Dobby there as well," pointed out James, "I doubt he would let

Kreacher do anything more to betray Harry."

"Yeah," said Harry in relief, "yeah, I'll do that. Er — Kreacher — I

want you to go to Hogwarts and work in the kitchens there with the

other house-elves."

Kreacher, who was now lying flat on his back with his arms and legs in

the air, gave Harry one upside-down look of deepest loathing and, with

another loud crack, vanished.

Hermione shook her head, she almost forgot how much Kreacher used to

hate Harry, she had gotten so used to the two of them getting along that it

almost seemed bizarre for Kreacher to not hero worship her friend.

"Good," said Dumbledore. "There is also the matter of the hippogriff,

Buckbeak. Hagrid has been looking after him since Sirius died, but

Buckbeak is yours now, so if you would prefer to make different

arrangements —"

"No," said Harry at once, "he can stay with Hagrid. I think Buckbeak

would prefer that."

"Hagrid will be delighted," said Dumbledore, smiling. "He was thrilled

to see Buckbeak again. Incidentally, we have decided, in the interests of

Buckbeak's safety, to rechristen him 'Witherwings' for the time being,

though I doubt that the Ministry would ever guess he is the hippogriff

they once sentenced to death. Now, Harry, is your trunk packed?"

"Erm…"

"Take that as a no," advised Frank.

"Doubtful that I would turn up?" Dumbledore suggested shrewdly.

"I'll just go and — er — finish off," said Harry hastily, hurrying to pick

up his fallen telescope and trainers.

It took him a little over ten minutes to track down everything he

needed; at last he had managed to extract his Invisibility Cloak from

under the bed, screwed the top back on his jar of colour-change ink,

and forced the lid of his trunk shut on his cauldron. Then, heaving his

trunk in one hand and holding Hedwig's cage in the other, he made his

way back downstairs, He was disappointed to discover that

Dumbledore was not waiting in the hall, which meant that he had to

return to the living room.

"I wonder what he is going to do to Tuney and Vermin," said Severus.

Nobody was talking. Dumbledore was humming quietly, apparently

quite at his ease, but the atmosphere was thicker than cold custard, and

Harry did not dare look at the Dursleys as he said, "Professor — I'm

ready now."

"Good," said Dumbledore. "Just one last thing, then." And he turned

to speak to the Dursleys once more.

"As you will no doubt be aware, Harry comes of age in a years time —"

"No," said Aunt Petunia, speaking for the first time since

Dumbledore's arrival.

"I'm sorry?" said Dumbledore politely.

"No, he doesn't. He's a month younger than Dudley, and Dudders

doesn't turn eighteen until the year after next."

"You come of age in the muggle world at 18?" asked Remus curiously.

Lily nodded, "you can do different things at different ages, but you are still

considered a minor until 18, I think it is different in some cultures though."

"Ah," said Dumbledore pleasantly, "but in the Wizarding world, we

come of age at seventeen."

Uncle Vernon muttered, "Preposterous," but Dumbledore ignored him,

"That isn't really such a monumental difference," pointed out James, "what

difference does a year make?"

"Now, as you already know, the wizard called Lord Voldemort has

returned to this country. The Wizarding community is currently in a

state of open warfare. Harry, whom Lord Voldemort has already

attempted to kill on a number of occasions, is in even greater danger

now than the day when I left him upon your doorstep fifteen years ago,

with a letter explaining about his parents' murder and expressing the

hope that you would care for him as though he were your own."

"Cause that one worked out extremely well," said Sirius sarcastically.

"In my defence, I would not anticipate this occurrence," said Albus, "at

present the only communication I have had with Petunia Evans was a letter

which expressed her love and hope to continue as part of her sister's life,

which in my opinion would have lent itself to the belief that she would care

for Harry as though he was her own, as I would do for any of my nieces or

nephews if I had any. I was apparently mistaken in my judgement."

Dumbledore paused, and although his voice remained light and calm,

and he gave no obvious sign of anger, Harry felt a kind of chill

emanating from him and noticed that the Dursleys drew very slightly

closer together.

"You did not do as I asked. You have never treated Harry as a son. He

has known nothing but neglect and often cruelty at your hands. The

best that can be said is that he has at least escaped the appalling

damage you have inflicted upon the unfortunate boy sitting between

you."

"The spoiled brat is probably in for a rather large wake up from the sounds

of it, the real world, contrary to his opinion, does not revolve around

Dudley Dursley," said Frank.

Both Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon looked around instinctively, as

though expecting to see someone other than Dudley squeezed between

them.

"Us — mistreat Dudders? What d'you —?" began Uncle Vernon

furiously, but Dumbledore raised his ringer for silence, a silence which

fell as though he had struck Uncle Vernon dumb.

"The magic I evoked fifteen years ago means that Harry has powerful

protection while he can still call this house 'home.' However miserable

he has been here, however unwelcome, however badly treated, you

have at least, grudgingly, allowed him houseroom. This magic will cease

to operate the moment that Harry turns seventeen; in other words, at

the moment he becomes a man. I ask only this: that you allow Harry to

return, once more, to this house, before his seventeenth birthday, which

will ensure that the protection continues until that time."

None of the Dursleys said anything. Dudley was frowning slightly, as

though he was still trying to work out when he had ever been

mistreated.

"Don't work too hard on that," said James, "wouldn't want you to overexert

yourself."

Uncle Vernon looked as though he had something stuck in his throat;

Aunt Petunia, however, was oddly flushed.

"Well, Harry… time for us to be off," said Dumbledore at last, standing

up and straightening his long black cloak. "Until we meet again," he

said to the Dursleys, who looked as though that moment could wait

forever as far as they were concerned, and after doffing his hat, he

swept from the room.

"Bye," said Harry hastily to the Dursleys, and followed Dumbledore,

who paused beside Harry's trunk, upon which Hedwig's cage was

perched.

"We do not want to be encumbered by these just now," he said, pulling

out his wand again. "I shall send them to the Burrow to await us there.

However, I would like you to bring your Invisibility Cloak… just in

case."

Harry extracted his cloak from his trunk with some difficulty, trying

not to show Dumbledore the mess within.

Albus merely smile, "I will admit to having been a teenager myself at one

point, no amount of mess would shock me, my brother was rather messy

during his teenage years."

When he had stuffed it into an inside pocket of his jacket, Dumbledore

waved his wand and the trunk, cage, and Hedwig vanished.

Dumbledore then waved his wand again, and the front door opened

onto cool, misty darkness.

"And now, Harry, let us step out into the night and pursue that flighty

temptress, adventure."

"What adventure?" asked Lily, "I hope he doesn't have to do anything too

dangerous. Though I am sure that the headmaster won't let him get hurt."

"You flatter me Ms Evans," said Albus serenely.

"May I ask a question?" asked Hermione tentatively, wanting an answer to a

question which both Harry and herself had wondered about during the hunt

and after.

"I think you just did, Mie," said Sirius with a grin.

"Can it Black," retorted Hermione.

"Who is the question for?" asked Lily.

"Professor Dumbledore," said Hermione.

"Go ahead, Hermione, I will endeavour to answer you to the best of my

ability," said Albus.

"Why did Harry have to go there? It seems that you realised that the

Dursley's mistreated Harry when he came to school, why didn't you stop it

or take him away from there? In the last book your future self said that you

knew you were condemning and what not, why? "

"Apart from the blood wards I am assuming?" surmised Albus, "I think,

even now that given young Harry's role, he would be safer in muggle world

with family, than in the wizarding world with a friend, even if Mr Black

was able to take guardianship I would have advised that Harry go there,

though perhaps having Sirius as a next door neighbour."

"How come?" asked Sirius his voice an octave higher than usual, "I would

have taken better care of him than the Dursleys."

"I am not debating that Mr Black, however that doesn't mean that there

wouldn't be those who would, even in this time there are reporters such as

Skeeter who would incite outcry against his placement. If Harry did not go

to family who had an undisputable claim, namely his aunt by blood, than no

matter how explicating Mr Potter and Ms Evans requested he go to you, the

case would be settled in the ministry, and given the less than desirable

nature of the ministry, I do not doubt that the rights to the saviour of the

wizarding world would be sold to the highest bidder who would at best use

Harry to his own advantage, or alternatively go to another family with

money who might support Tom, making Harry either a sacrifice or a future

leader of the death eaters. Then factor in the media and we would have a

disaster on our hands. While I am deeply upset that Harry's treatment has

been less than satisfactory, his treatment at his aunt or uncles house is

probably indisputably better than he would get anywhere else or in the

wizarding world."

Hermione unfortunately could see the logic in this and could not dispute it,

she could imagine what would happen if someone like Umbridge or Mrs

Black was given custody, the thought sent a shiver of disgust down her

spine. If she stayed, as part of her hoped she would, then Harry will

hopefully never have to suffer the loss of his parents or life at the Dursleys,

on the other hand even if the room decided to keep the future as it was

mapped out, then she would at least be able to answer one of Harry's many

questions.

"Were there any more comments or questions before I pass the book on to

Mr Longbottom?" asked Minerva, since no one volunteered, the book was

handed over and Frank turned to the next page.

AN: Thanks for reading, please review! Cheers!

4. Chapter 4

Horace Slughorn

AN: HI all, sorry about the wait (again) real life is rather busy at the

moment. I hope to put at least another chapter up within the week, so

fingers crossed nothing happens to change that. I would like to send out a

huge thanks to all who have reviewed, it has been really encouraging for me

to read all your comments! As per usual there is also a disclaimer here,

stating that I OWN NOTHING!. Got it?. Good. I hope you all enjoy the

next update, and I hope to have another out soon! Cheers!

"Horace Slughorn," read out Frank

"That is odd," observed Lily, "what is he doing here? I though Sev was the

potions professor."

Despite the fact that he had spent every waking moment of the past few

days hoping desperately that Dumbledore would indeed come to fetch

him, Harry felt distinctly awkward as they set off down Privet Drive

together. He had never had a proper conversation with the headmaster

outside of Hogwarts before; there was usually a desk between them.

The memory of their last face-to-face encounter kept intruding too, and

it rather heightened Harry's sense of embarrassment; he had shouted a

lot on that occasion, not to mention done his best to smash several of

Dumbledore's most prized possessions.

"I predict an awkward silence in that case then," said Alice, "I spy with my

inner eye..."

Dumbledore, however, seemed completely relaxed.

"Keep your wand at the ready, Harry," he said brightly.

"But I thought I'm not allowed to use magic outside school, sir?"

"If there is an attack," said Dumbledore, "I give you permission to use

any counter-jinx or curse that might occur to you. However, I do not

think you need worry about being attacked tonight."

"Why not, sir?"

"You are with me," said Dumbledore simply.

"Of course," said Lily, "no one would ever dare to try and attack Professor

Dumbledore."

Albus smiled, he tended to agree, however if his prediction of the

assassination plot against him it would be unlikely for anyone else to want

to try and hurt him, at risk of incurring Tom's wrath for interfering with a

mission, or punishment, whatever the task actually was.

"This will do, Harry."

He came to an abrupt halt at the end of Privet Drive.

"You have not, of course, passed your Apparition Test," he said.

"No," said Harry. "I thought you had to be seventeen?"

"You do," said Dumbledore. "So you will need to hold on to my arm

very tightly. My left, if you don't mind — as you have noticed, my wand

arm is a little fragile at the moment."

Harry gripped Dumbledore's proffered forearm.

"Very good," said Dumbledore. "Well, here we go."

Harry felt Dumbledore's arm twist away from him and redoubled his

grip; the next thing he knew, everything went black; he was being

pressed very hard from all directions; he could not breathe, there were

iron bands tightening around his chest; his eyeballs were being forced

back into his head; his eardrums were being pushed deeper into his

skull and then — He gulped great lungfulls of cold night air and

opened his streaming eyes. He felt as though he had just been forced

through a very tight rubber tube. It was a few seconds before he

realized that Privet Drive had vanished. He and Dumbledore were now

standing in what appeared to be a deserted village square, in the centre

of which stood an old war memorial and a few benches. His

comprehension catching up with his senses, Harry realized that he had

just Apparated for the first time in his life.

"Welcome to the wonderful world of apparition," said James, "that is a

rather vivid, though accurate description of the sensation."

"Are you all right?" asked Dumbledore, looking down at him

solicitously. "The sensation does take some getting used to."

"I'm fine," said Harry, rubbing his ears, which felt as though they had

left Privet Drive rather reluctantly. "But I think I might prefer

brooms…"

Dumbledore smiled, drew his travelling cloak a little more lightly

around his neck, and said, "This way."

He set off at a brisk pace, past an empty inn and a few houses.

According to a clock on a nearby church, it was almost midnight.

"So tell me, Harry," said Dumbledore. "Your scar… has it been hurting

at all?"

"Good question"

Harry raised a hand unconsciously to his forehead and rubbed the

lightning-shaped mark.

"No," he said,

"Surprising," remarked James.

"I'm sure there is a reason for that though," said Lily.

"and I've been wondering about that. I thought it would be burning all

the time now Voldemort's getting so powerful again."

He glanced up at Dumbledore and saw that he was wearing a satisfied

expression.

"I, on the other hand, thought otherwise," said Dumbledore. "Lord

Voldemort has finally realized the dangerous access to his thoughts and

feelings you have been enjoying. It appears that he is now employing

Occlumency against you."

"Not surprising," admitted Regulus, "the Dark Lord doesn't like to share his

plans, thoughts or feelings with his followers, let alone his enemies."

"Well, I'm not complaining," said Harry, who missed neither the

disturbing dreams nor the startling flashes of insight into Voldemort's

mind.

They turned a corner, passing a telephone box and a bus shelter. Harry

looked sideways at Dumbledore again. "Professor?"

"Harry?"

"Er — where exactly are we?"

"This, Harry, is the charming village of Budleigh Babberton."

"That is a random place to go at midnight during the holidays," observed

Remus.

"And what are we doing here?"

"Ah yes, of course, I haven't told you," said Dumbledore. "Well, I have

lost count of the number of times I have said this in recent years, but

we are, once again, one member of staff short. We are here to persuade

an old colleague of mine to come out of retirement and return to

Hogwarts."

"I wonder if it is anyone we know," said Lily.

"given the chapter title, my guess is that it is Slughorn, so yes," said

Severus.

"How can I help with that, sir?"

"Oh, I think we'll find a use for you," said Dumbledore vaguely.

Albus chuckled he could see his plan, it was a very good one if he dared say

so himself.

"Left here, Harry."

They proceeded up a steep, narrow street lined with houses. All the

windows were dark. The odd chill that had lain over Privet Drive for

two weeks persisted here too. Thinking of Dementors, Harry cast a look

over his shoulder and grasped his wand reassuringly in his pocket.

"Professor, why couldn't we just Apparate directly into your old

colleague's house?"

"Because it would be quite as rude as kicking down the front door,"

said Dumbledore. "Courtesy dictates that we offer fellow wizards the

opportunity of denying us entry. In any case, most Wizarding dwellings

are magically protected from unwanted Apparators. At Hogwarts, for

instance —"

"— you can't Apparate anywhere inside the buildings or grounds," said

Harry quickly. "Hermione Granger told me."

"At least something I said managed to stick," said Hermione with a wry

smile, thinking back to the fond memories of her friends.

"How could it not when the messenger is such a beautiful creature,"

charmed Sirius, causing Hermione to snort.

Regulus smiled and leaned in to Hermione, "while my brother is just

teasing, the content and sentiment is infinitely true."

"And she is quite right. We turn left again."

The church clock chimed midnight behind them. Harry wondered why

Dumbledore did not consider it rude to call on his old colleague so late,

but now that conversation had been established, he had more pressing

questions to ask.

"Sir, I saw in the Daily Prophet that Fudge has been sacked…"

"Correct," said Dumbledore, now turning up a steep side street. "He

has been replaced, as I am sure you also saw, by Rufus Scrimgeour,

who used to be Head of the Auror office."

"Is he… Do you think he's good?" asked Harry.

"He is a politician," said Sirius, "so that would be the standard no, good

politicians don't exist."

"An interesting question," said Dumbledore. "He is able, certainly. A

more decisive and forceful personality than Cornelius."

"Yes, but I meant —"

"I know what you meant. Rufus is a man of action and, having fought

Dark wizards for most of his working life, does not underestimate Lord

Voldemort."

Harry waited, but Dumbledore did not say anything about the

disagreement with Scrimgeour that the Daily Prophet had reported,

and he did not have the nerve to pursue the subject, so he changed it.

"And… sir… I saw about Madam Bones."

"Yes," said Dumbledore quietly. "A terrible loss. She was a great witch.

Just up here, I think — ouch."

He had pointed with his injured hand.

"Professor, what happened to your…?"

"I have no time to explain now," said Dumbledore. "It is a thrilling tale,

I wish to do it justice."

Minerva was tempted to roll her eyes, her colleague was such a drama

queen at times.

He smiled at Harry, who understood that he was not being snubbed,

and that he had permission to keep asking questions.

"Sir — I got a Ministry of Magic leaflet by owl, about security

measures we should all take against the Death Eaters…"

"Yes, I received one myself," said Dumbledore, still smiling. "Did you

find it useful?"

"Not really."

"You and the rest of wizarding Britain," muttered Hermione.

"No, I thought not. You have not asked me, for instance, what is my

favorite flavour of jam, to check that I am indeed Professor

Dumbledore and not an impostor."

"I didn't…" Harry began, not entirely sure whether he was being

reprimanded or not.

"For future reference, Harry, it is raspberry… although of course, if I

were a Death Eater, I would have been sure to research my own jam

preferences before impersonating myself."

"It isn't really all that accurate, after all you can always interrogate for the

purpose of the questions, and if you take the time to brew polyjuice and

create an elaborate plot, the miscreant would surely think of that as well,"

said James, "those leaflets couldn't foil a marauder prank, let alone a death

eater impersonation."

"Shouldn't that be the other way round?" asked Remus with a grin.

"Er… right," said Harry. "Well, on that leaflet, it said something about

Inferi. What exactly are they? The leaflet wasn't very clear."

"They are corpses," said Dumbledore calmly. "Dead bodies that have

been bewitched to do a Dark wizard's bidding. Inferi have not been

seen for a long time, however, not since Voldemort was last powerful…

He killed enough people to make an army of them, of course. This is the

place, Harry, just here…"

Hermione shivered she could almost imagine the handsome boy next to her

being pulled under the water by inferi, as described by Harry and Kreacher.

"You alright?" asked Regulus kindly.

"Yeah," lied Hermione, "the idea of inferi creeps me out."

"You and the rest of the world," replied Regulus, "one moment, you haven't

actually encountered inferi have you?"

The room looked intrigued at that question.

"No I haven't," replied Hermione quietly.

"Thank Merlin for small blessings then," said Minerva.

They were nearing a small, neat stone house set in its own garden.

Harry was too busy digesting the horrible idea of Inferi to have much

attention left for anything else, but as they reached the front gate,

Dumbledore stopped dead and Harry walked into him.

"Oh dear. Oh dear, dear, dear."

"What happened?"

Harry followed his gaze up the carefully tended front path and felt his

heart sink. The front door was hanging off its hinges.

Dumbledore glanced up and down the street. It seemed quite deserted.

"Wand out and follow me, Harry," he said quietly.

He opened the gate and walked swiftly and silently up the garden path,

Harry at his heels, then pushed the front door very slowly, his wand

raised and at the ready.

"Lumos."

Dumbledore's wand tip ignited, casting its light up a narrow hallway.

To the left, another door stood open. Holding his illuminated wand

aloft, Dumbledore walked into the sitting room with Harry right

behind him.

A scene of total devastation met their eyes. A grandfather clock lay

splintered at their feet, its face cracked, its pendulum lying a little

farther away like a dropped sword. A piano was on its side, its keys

strewn across the floor. The wreckage of a fallen chandelier flittered

nearby. Cushions lay deflated, feathers oozing from slashes in their

sides; fragments of glass and china lay like powder over everything.

Dumbledore raised his wand even higher, so that its light was thrown

upon the walls, where something darkly red and glutinous was

spattered over the wallpaper. Harry's small intake of breath made

Dumbledore look around.

"What on earth happened to Old Sluggy?" asked James looking slightly

concerned.

"Not pretty, is it?" he said heavily. "Yes, something horrible has

happened here."

Minerva raised an eyebrow slightly, Albus wasn't at all like that usually

when something tragic happened, he was a man of action and would have

cast at least three spells by that point, rather than pointing out what seemed

to be obvious.

Dumbledore moved carefully into the middle of the room, scrutinizing

the wreckage at his feet. Harry followed, gazing around, half-scared of

what he might see hidden behind the wreck of the piano or the

overturned sofa, but there was no sign of a body.

"Maybe there was a fight and — and they dragged him off, Professor?"

Harry suggested, trying not to imagine how badly wounded a man

would have to be to leave those stains spattered halfway up the walls.

"I don't think so," said Dumbledore quietly, peering behind an

overstuffed armchair lying on its side.

"You mean he's —?"

"Still here somewhere? Yes."

Minerva raised her eyebrow once more, so the devastation was a defence

mechanism then, she should have known, Horace Slughorn always had a

flair for the melodramatic.

And without warning, Dumbledore swooped, plunging the tip of his

wand into the seat of the overstuffed armchair, which yelled, "Ouch!"

"Good evening, Horace," said Dumbledore, straightening up again.

Harry's jaw dropped. Where a split second before there had been an

armchair, there now crouched an enormously fat, bald, old man who

was massaging his lower belly and squinting up at Dumbledore with an

aggrieved and watery eye.

"Why on earth is he hiding?" asked Lily, "surely he wouldn't be in any

trouble..."

"On the run from the law?" teased Sirius, "I never knew old Sluggy had it in

him."

"You know that is not what I meant Sirius!" scolded Lily, Sirius merely

grinned and raised an eyebrow, "I meant from Death Eaters, so why should

he be hiding?"

"That was an interesting method of hiding though," observed Regulus,

"most people would probably fall for it, especially given the present, or

rather future climate."

"The headmaster didn't," pointed out James.

"There was no need to stick the wand in that hard," he said gruffly,

clambering to his feet. "It hurt."

The wandlight sparkled on his shiny pate, his prominent eyes, his

enormous, silver, walruslike mustache, and the highly polished buttons

on the maroon velvet jacket he was wearing over a pair of lilac silk

pajamas. The top of his head barely reached Dumbledore's chin.

"Seems his fashion sense hasn't changed much over the years," said Albus,

"Lilac and marroon, an interesting combination, I will have to try it

sometimes."

"What gave it away?" he grunted as he staggered to his feet, still

rubbing his lower belly. He seemed remarkably unabashed for a man

who had just been discovered pretending to be an armchair.

"My dear Horace," said Dumbledore, looking amused, "if the Death

Eaters really had come to call, the Dark Mark would have been set over

the house."

The wizard clapped a pudgy hand to his vast forehead.

"The Dark Mark," he muttered. "Knew there was something… ah well.

Wouldn't have had time anyway, I'd only just put the finishing touches

to my upholstery when you entered the room."

He heaved a great sigh that made the ends of his mustache flutter.

"Would you like my assistance clearing up?" asked Dumbledore

politely.

"Please," said the other.

They stood back to back, the tall thin wizard and the short round one,

and waved their wands in one identical sweeping motion.

The furniture flew back to its original places; ornaments re-formed in

midair, feathers zoomed into their cushions; torn books repaired

themselves as they landed upon their shelves; oil lanterns soared onto

side tables and reignited; a vast collection of splintered silver picture

frames flew glittering across the room and alighted, whole and

untarnished, upon a desk; rips, cracks, and holes healed everywhere,

and the walls wiped themselves clean.

"What kind of blood was that, incidentally?" asked Dumbledore loudly

over the chiming of the newly unsmashed grandfather flock.

"On the walls? Dragon," shouted the wizard called Horace, as, with a

deafening grinding and tinkling, the chandelier screwed itself back into

the ceiling.

There was a final plunk from the piano, and silence.

"Yes, dragon," repeated the wizard conversationally. "My last bottle,

and prices are sky-high at the moment. Still, it might be reusable."

He stumped over to a small crystal bottle standing on top of a

sideboard and held it up to the light, examining the thick liquid within.

"Hmm. Bit dusty."

"I'm sure that won't be problem if it is used for interior decor again," said

Alice.

He set the bottle back on the sideboard and sighed. It was then that his

gaze fell upon Harry.

"This will be interesting," said Regulus, "He will adore Harry Potter."

"Oho," he said, his large round eyes flying to Harry's forehead and the

lightning-shaped scar it bore. "Oho!"

"This," said Dumbledore, moving forward to make the introduction,

"is Harry Potter. Harry, this is an old Friend and colleague of mine,

Horace Slughorn."

Slughorn turned on Dumbledore, his expression shrewd. "So that's how

you thought you'd persuade me, is it? Well, the answer's no, Albus."

"So Harry is the bait then," said Severus, "but if Slughorn is coming back,

he would teach potions, what would that mean for me then?"

"Who knows," said Sirius, "you might get your wish and will finally have

an excuse to curse all the incompetent dunderheads in your classes, as I

don't know... defence teacher."

"The headmaster may have found out about the vow and that you are a

traitor and fired you or given you the defence post in order to drive you out

of the school with the rest of the vastly growing number," pointed out

James.

"While the second is possible, the first is more likely," said Minerva, "after

all Riddle is now in the open therefore it is integral that someone who

understands the Dark Arts teaches them to defend against it, which due to

his past, Severus is probably more than capable of doing."

"Oh great, that means I'll be dead within a year," said Severus sarcastically.

"Better than being Lockhart," replied Regulus.

He pushed past Harry, his face turned resolutely away with the air of a

man trying to resist temptation.

"I suppose we can have a drink, at least?" asked Dumbledore. "For old

time's sake?"

Slughorn hesitated.

"All right then, one drink," he said ungraciously.

Dumbledore smiled at Harry and directed him toward a chair not

unlike the one that Slughorn had so recently impersonated, which stood

right beside the newly burning fire and a brightly glowing oil lamp.

Harry took the seat with the distinct impression that Dumbledore, for

some reason, wanted to keep him as visible as possible. Certainly when

Slughorn, who had been busy with decanters and glasses, turned to face

the room again, his eyes fell immediately upon Harry.

"Hmpf," he said, looking away quickly as though frightened of hurting

his eyes. "Here —" He gave a drink to Dumbledore, who had sat down

without invitation, thrust the tray at Harry, and then sank into the

cushions of the repaired sofa and a disgruntled silence. His legs were so

short they did not touch the floor.

"Well, how have you been keeping, Horace?" Dumbledore asked.

"Not so well," said Slughorn at once. "Weak chest. Wheezy.

Rheumatism too. Can't move like I used to. Well, that's to be expected.

Old age. Fatigue."

"And yet you must have moved fairly quickly to prepare such a

welcome for us at such short notice," said Dumbledore. "You can't

have had more than three minutes' warning?"

Slughorn said, half irritably, half proudly, "Two. Didn't hear my

Intruder Charm go off, I was taking a bath. Still," he added sternly,

seeming to pull himself back together again, "the fact remains that I'm

an old man, Albus. A tired old man who's earned the right to a quiet

life and a few creature comforts."

"How quiet can it be if he is turning himself into furniture on a regular

basis?" asked Alice.

He certainly had those, thought Harry, looking around the room. It was

stuffy and cluttered, yet nobody could say it was uncomfortable; there

were soft chairs and footstools, drinks and books, boxes of chocolates

and plump cushions. If Harry had not known who lived there, he would

have guessed at a rich, fussy old lady.

Sirius snorted, he wasn't surprised, the description fitted him to a T.

"You're not yet as old as I am, Horace," said Dumbledore.

"Well, maybe you ought to think about retirement yourself," said

Slughorn bluntly. His pale gooseberry eyes had found Dumbledore's

injured hand. "Reactions not what they were, I see."

"You're quite right," said Dumbledore serenely, shaking back his sleeve

to reveal the tips of those burned and blackened fingers; the sight of

them made the back of Harry's neck prickle unpleasantly.

Regulus couldn't help but wrinkle his brow in worry at the description of

the headmaster's hand, the description of it, combined with his knowledge

of the Dark Arts made him very nervous indeed. Glancing around he

noticed that Sirius and Severus were thinking similar things as well from

the indications on their faces.

"I am undoubtedly slower than I was. But on the other hand…"He

shrugged and spread his hands wide, as though to say that age had its

compensations, and Harry noticed a ring on his uninjured hand that he

had never seen Dumbledore wear before: It was large, rather clumsily

made of what looked like gold, and was set with a heavy black stone

that had cracked down the middle. Slughorn's eyes lingered for a

moment on the ring too, and Harry saw a tiny frown momentarily

crease his wide forehead.

Albus was curious at that observation, Slughorn's reaction to the ring

intrigued him it also made him wonder if his future self intentionally drew

notice to it.

"So, all these precautions against intruders, Horace… are they for the

Death Eaters' benefit, or mine?" asked Dumbledore.

"What would the Death Eaters want with a poor broken-down old

buffer like me?" demanded Slughorn.

"I imagine that they would want you to turn your considerable talents

to coercion, torture, and murder," said Dumbledore. "Are you really

telling me that they haven't come recruiting yet?"

"For all his faults, Sluggy is not a death eater," said Sirius.

"Sirius," said Lily, "professor Slughorn is a very good teacher."

Slughorn eyed Dumbledore balefully for a moment, then muttered, "I

haven't given them the chance. I've been on the move for a year. Never

stay in one place more than a week. Move from Muggle house to

Muggle house — the owners of this place are on holiday in the Canary

Islands — it's been very pleasant, I'll be sorry to leave. It's quite easy

once you know how, one simple Freezing Charm on these absurd

burglar alarms they use instead of Sneako-scopes and make sure the

neighbours don't spot you bringing in the piano."

"He takes a piano with him everywhere he goes?" asked Alice, deducing the

important information from the spiel.

"Ingenious," said Dumbledore. "But it sounds a rather tiring existence

for a broken-down old buffer in search of a quiet life. Now, if you were

to return to Hogwarts —"

"If you're going to tell me my life would be more peaceful at that

pestilential school, you can save your breath, Albus! I might have been

in hiding, but some funny rumours have reached me since Dolores

Umbridge left! If that's how you treat teachers these days —"

"Professor Umbridge ran afoul of our centaur herd," said Dumbledore.

"I think you, Horace, would have known better than to stride into the

forest and call a horde of angry centaurs 'filthy half-breeds.'"

"Most people have that level of intelligence," said Remus dryly.

"That's what she did, did she?" said Slughorn. "Idiotic woman. Never

liked her."

Harry chuckled and both Dumbledore and Slughorn looked round at

him.

"Sorry," Harry said hastily. "It's just — I didn't like her either."

"That is a rather mild way of saying it."

Dumbledore stood up rather suddenly.

"Are you leaving?" asked Slughorn at once, looking hopeful.

"No, I was wondering whether I might use your bathroom," said

Dumbledore.

"Oh," said Slughorn, clearly disappointed. "Second on the left down

the hall."

Dumbledore strode from the room. Once the door had closed behind

him, there was silence. After a few moments, Slughorn got to his feet

but seemed uncertain what to do with himself. He shot a furtive look at

Harry, then crossed to the fire and turned his back on it, warming his

wide behind.

"Don't think I don't know why he's brought you," he said abruptly.

Harry merely looked at Slughorn. Slughorn's watery eyes slid over

Harry's scar, this time taking in the rest of his face.

"You look very like your father."

"Yeah, I've been told," said Harry.

"Except for your eyes. You've got — -"

"My mother's eyes, yeah." Harry had heard it so often he found it a bit

wearing.

"Hmpf. Yes, well. You shouldn't have favourites as a teacher, of course,

but she was one of mine. Your mother," Slughorn added, in answer to

Harry's questioning look.

Lily smiled at that.

"Wow, that is some achievement," said Alice rolling her eyes, "a balding

walrus likes Lily, congratulations."

"Don't worry," said James to Lily, "you are my favourite as well, and you

don't even have to share that honour with anyone else."

Lily smiled and blushed.

"Lily Evans. One of the brightest I ever taught. Vivacious, you know.

Charming girl. I used to tell her she ought to have been in my House.

Very cheeky answers I used to get back too."

"Which was your House?"

"I was Head of Slytherin," said Slughorn. "Oh, now," he went on

quickly, seeing the expression on Harry's face and wagging a stubby

ringer at him, "don't go holding that against me! You'll be Gryffindor

like her, I suppose? Yes, it usually goes in families. Not always, though.

Ever heard of Sirius Black? You must have done — been in the papers

for the last couple of years — died a few weeks ago —"

"Seems his subtly is as good as ever," said Regulus tartly, he had nothing

too serious against Slughorn, apart from the way he objectified students and

used them as commodities for his own personal gain something which he

was very transparent about.

It was as though an invisible hand had twisted Harry's intestines and

held them tight.

"Well, anyway, he was a big pal of your father's at school. The whole

Black family had been in my House, but Sirius ended up in Gryffindor!

Shame — he was a talented boy. I got his brother, Regulus, when he

came along, but I'd have liked the set."

Regulus snorted dryly, "he makes us sound like one of mother's antique

jewels, trinkets to be collected."

Sirius snorted, "took you that long to figure it out, six years I'm impressed

there may be hope that you will develop a brain at some point little

brother."

"Ha ha ha, considering your own track record, I think you are the one

missing a brain, a fact which is evidenced by you claims that I, the superior

and smarter sibling, lack one."

He sounded like an enthusiastic collector who had been outbid at

auction. Apparently lost in memories, he gazed at the opposite wall,

turning idly on the spot to ensure an even heat on his backside.

"Your mother was Muggle-born, of course. Couldn't believe it when I

found out. Thought she must have been pure-blood, she was so good."

A few people snorted unamusedly at the prejudice displayed.

"One of my best friends is Muggle-born," said Harry, "and she's the

best in our year."

Hermione smiled and blushed at the compliment.

"I'm guessing you will soon be ascending onto the trinket shelf with Harry

as well," surmised Regulus

"Funny how that sometimes happens, isn't it?" said Slughorn.

"Not really," said Harry coldly.

Slughorn looked down at him in surprise. "You mustn't think I'm

prejudiced!" he said. "No, no, no! Haven't I just said your mother was

one of my all-time favorite students? And there was Dirk Cresswell in

the year after her too — now Head of the Goblin Liaison Office, of

course — another Muggle-born, a very gifted student, and still gives me

excellent inside information on the goings-on at Gringotts!"

He bounced up and down a little, smiling in a self-satisfied way, and

pointed at the many glittering photograph frames on the dresser, each

peopled with tiny moving occupants.

"All ex-students, all signed. You'll notice Barnabas Cuffe, editor of the

Daily Prophet, ("Is that really something to boast about?" asked someone)

he's always interested to hear my take on the day's news. And

Ambrosius Flume, of Honeydukes — a hamper every birthday, and all

because I was able to give him an introduction to Ciceron Harkisss who

gave him his first job! And at the back — you'll see her if you just

crane your neck — that's Gwenog Jones, who of course captains the

Holyhead Harpies… People are always astonished to hear I'm on first-

name terms with the Harpies, and free tickets whenever I want them!"

This thought seemed to cheer him up enormously.

"And all these people know where to find you, to send you stuff?"

asked Harry, who could not help wondering why the Death Eaters had

not yet tracked down Slughorn if hampers of sweets, Quidditch tickets,

and visitors craving his advice and opinions could find him.

"Now that is a good question," said James dryly.

The smile slid from Slughorn's face as quickly as the blood from his

walls.

"Of course not," he said, looking down at Harry. "I have been out of

touch with everybody for a year."

Harry had the impression that the words shocked Slughorn himself; he

looked quite unsettled for a moment. Then he shrugged.

"Who would have thought that the Slug had enough forbearance to live

without extra chocolate and tickets for a whole year! I wonder if he has

tried rats yet, it seems my future self was rather fond of them... hang on he

didn't have a choice in the matter." drawled Sirius sarcastically.

"Still… the prudent wizard keeps his head down in such times. All very

well for Dumbledore to talk, but taking up a post at Hogwarts just now

would be tantamount to declaring my public allegiance to the Order of

the Phoenix! And while I'm sure they're very admirable and brave and

all the rest of it, I don't personally fancy the mortality rate —"

"It is the defence teachers who have the morality rate, not the staff in

general," pointed out James.

"You don't have to join the Order to teach at Hogwarts," said Harry,

who could not quite keep a note of derision out of his voice: It was hard

to sympathize with Slughorn's cosseted existence when he remembered

Sirius, crouching in a cave and living on rats. "Most of the teachers

aren't in it, and none of them has ever been killed — well, unless you

count Quirrell, and he got what he deserved seeing as he was working

with Voldemort."

Harry had been sure Slughorn would be one of those wizards who

could not bear to hear Voldemort's name spoken aloud, and was not

disappointed: Slughorn gave a shudder and a squawk of protest, which

Harry ignored.

"I reckon the staff are safer than most people while Dumbledore's

headmaster; he's supposed to be the only one Voldemort ever feared,

isn't he?" Harry went on.

Slughorn gazed into space for a moment or two: He seemed to be

thinking over Harry's words.

"Well, yes, it is true that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has never

sought a fight with Dumbledore," he muttered grudgingly. "And I

suppose one could argue that as I have not joined the Death Eaters, He-

Who-Must-Not-Be-Named can hardly count me a friend… in which

case, I might well be safer a little closer to Albus… I cannot pretend

that Amelia Bones's death did not shake me… If she, with all her

Ministry contacts and protection…"

Albus nodded sympathetically, "Amelia Bones was another favourite of

Horace, even more because she always refused the help he offered and did

it all on her own back."

Dumbledore re-entered the room and Slughorn jumped as though he

had forgotten he was in the house.

"Oh, there you are, Albus," he said. "You've been a very long lime.

Upset stomach?"

"No, I was merely reading the Muggle magazines," said Dumbledore.

"I do love knitting patterns. Well, Harry, we have trespassed upon

Horace's hospitality quite long enough; I think it is time for us to

leave."

Not at all reluctant to obey, Harry jumped to his feet. Slughorn seemed

taken aback.

"You're leaving?"

"Yes, indeed. I think I know a lost cause when I see one."

"Lost…?"

"Apparently his resolve isn't as steadfast as he might think," commented

Remus dryly.

Slughorn seemed agitated. He twiddled his fat thumbs and fidgeted as

he watched Dumbledore fasten his traveling cloak, and Harry zip up

his jacket.

"Well, I'm sorry you don't want the job, Horace," said Dumbledore,

raising his uninjured hand in a farewell salute. "Hogwarts would have

been glad to see you back again. Our greatly increased security

notwithstanding, you will always be welcome to visit, should you wish

to."

"Yes… well… very gracious… as I say…"

"Good-bye, then."

"Bye," said Harry.

They were at the front door when there was a shout from behind them.

"All right, all right, I'll do it!"

Albus chuckled, Horace was rather predictable.

Dumbledore turned to see Slughorn standing breathless in the doorway

to the sitting room.

"You will come out of retirement?"

"Yes, yes," said Slughorn impatiently. "I must be mad, but yes."

"Wonderful," said Dumbledore, beaming. "Then, Horace, we shall see

you on the first of September."

"Yes, I daresay you will," grunted Slughorn.

As they set off down the garden path, Slughorn's voice floated after

them, "I'll want a pay rise, Dumbledore!"

"Of course," sneered Severus, "he has a year of shopping and self-

indulgence to make up for, not that he wasn't living in squalor to begin

with."

Dumbledore chuckled. The garden gate swung shut behind them, and

they set off back down the hill through the dark and the swirling mist.

"Well done, Harry," said Dumbledore.

"I didn't do anything," said Harry in surprise.

"Oh yes you did. You showed Horace exactly how much he stands to

gain by returning to Hogwarts. Did you like him?"

"Er…"

Harry wasn't sure whether he liked Slughorn or not. He supposed he

had been pleasant in his way, but he had also seemed vain and,

whatever he said to the contrary, much too surprised that a Muggle-

born should make a good witch.

Sirius nodded, that assessment showed good judgement.

"Horace," said Dumbledore, relieving Harry of the responsibility to say

any of this, "likes his comfort. He also likes the company of the famous,

the successful, and the powerful. He enjoys the feeling that he

influences these people. He has never wanted to occupy the throne

himself; he prefers the backseat — more room to spread out, you see.

He used to handpick favourites at Hogwarts, sometimes for their

ambition or their brains, sometimes for their charm or their talent, and

he had an uncanny knack for choosing those who would go on to

become outstanding in their various fields. Horace formed a kind of

club of his favourites with himself at the centre, making introductions,

forging useful contacts between members, and always reaping some

kind of benefit in return, whether a free box of his favourite

crystallized pineapple or the chance to recommend the next junior

member of the Goblin liaison Office."

Harry had a sudden and vivid mental image of a great swollen spider,

spinning a web around it, twitching a thread here and there to bring its

large and juicy flies a little closer.

Regulus snorted at the mental image, though it was extremely accurate, he

supposed it was a compliment then that Slughorn thought that he would go

far.

"I tell you all this," Dumbledore continued, "not to turn you against

Horace — or, as we must now call him, Professor Slughorn — but to

put you on your guard. He will undoubtedly try to collect you, Harry.

You would be the jewel of his collection; 'the Boy Who Lived'… or, as

they call you these days, 'the Chosen One.'"

At these words, a chill that had nothing to do with the surrounding

mist stole over Harry. He was reminded of words he had heard a few

weeks ago, words that had a horrible and particular meaning to him:

Neither can live while the other survives…

"Poor dear, having that hanging over his head," said Lily sympathetically.

Dumbledore had stopped walking, level with the church they had

passed earlier.

"This will do, Harry. If you will grasp my arm."

Braced this time, Harry was ready for the Apparition, but still found it

unpleasant.

When the pressure disappeared and he found himself able to breathe

again, he was standing in a country lane beside Dumbledore and

looking ahead to the crooked silhouette of his second favourite building

in the world: the Burrow.

"That means his favourite must be Hogwarts," guessed Sirius.

Severus found himself agreeing that Hogwarts, despite the temerity and

stupidity of its occupants was one of the best buildings in the world.

In spite of the feeling of dread that had just swept through him, his

spirits could not help but lift at the sight of it. Ron was in there… and

so was Mrs. Weasley, who could cook better than anyone he knew…

"Only because he doesn't count his own cooking," said Hermione, "Harry

really is a fantastic cook." She almost wished she took up Harry's many

offers to cook on the hunt, however Hermione's hunting and food gathering

skills were worse than her cooking skills and she felt she had to contribute

someway, otherwise she would feel as though she was being a burden on

Harry if he had to provide everything.

"If you don't mind, Harry," said Dumbledore, as they passed through

the gate, "I'd like a few words with you before we part. In private.

Perhaps in here?"

Dumbledore pointed toward a run-down stone outhouse where the

Weasleys kept their broomsticks. A little puzzled, Harry followed

Dumbledore through the creaking door into a space a little smaller

than the average cupboard. Dumbledore illuminated the tip of his

wand, so that it glowed like a torch, and smiled down at Harry.

Severus snorted, only his respect for the teachers in the room and the fact

his name was no Alice Smith, prevented him from making what would be a

highly inappropriate comment about a student entering a broom closet with

the headmaster.

"I hope you will forgive me for mentioning it, Harry, but I am pleased

and a little proud at how well you seem to be coping after everything

that happened at the Ministry. Permit me to say that I think Sirius

would have been proud of you."

Sirius nodded, from the little they had seen thus far, Harry had been

handling himself rather well.

Harry swallowed; his voice seemed to have deserted him. He did not

think he could stand to discuss Sirius; it had been painful enough to

hear Uncle Vernon say "His godfather's dead?" and even worse to hear

Sirius's name thrown out casually by Slughorn.

"It was cruel," said Dumbledore softly, "that you and Sirius had such a

short time together. A brutal ending to what should have been a long

and happy relationship."

Harry nodded, his eyes fixed resolutely on the spider now climbing

Dumbledore's hat. He could tell that Dumbledore understood, that he

might even suspect that until his letter arrived, Harry had spent nearly

all his time at the Dursleys' lying on his bed, refusing meals, and

staring at the misted window, full of the chill emptiness that he had

come to associate with Dementors.

"He was better than I expected," said Hermione, "however he still spent a

lot of time staring into space that year."

"It's just hard," Harry said finally, in a low voice, "to realize he won't

write to me again."

His eyes burned suddenly and he blinked. He felt stupid for admitting

it, but the fact that he had had someone outside Hogwarts who cared

what happened to him, almost like a parent, had been one of the best

things about discovering his godfather… and now the post owls would

never bring him that comfort again…

Lily shook her head, she truly felt for her son, how much he must have had

to endure... and now he didn't even have an adult that he was able to turn to.

"Sirius represented much to you that you had never known before,"

said Dumbledore gently. "Naturally, the loss is devastating…"

"But while I was at the Dursleys'…" interrupted Harry, his voice

growing stronger, "I realized I can't shut myself away or — or crack

up. Sirius wouldn't have wanted that, would he? And anyway, life's too

short… Look at Madam Bones, look at Emmeline Vance… It could be

me next, couldn't it? But if it is," he said fiercely, now looking straight

into Dumbledore's blue eyes gleaming in the wandlight, "I'll make sure

I take as many Death Eaters with me as I can, and Voldemort too if I

can manage it."

"Now that sounds remarkably like Sirius," remarked Regulus, "perhaps you

rubbed off on the kid more than you realised."

"Spoken both like your mother and father's son and Sirius's true

godson!" said Dumbledore, with an approving pat on Harry's back. "I

take my hat off to you — or I would, if I were not afraid of showering

you in spiders. And now, Harry, on a closely related subject… I gather

that you have been taking the Daily Prophet over the last two weeks?"

"Yes," said Harry, and his heart beat a little faster.

"Then you will have seen that there have been not so much leaks as

floods concerning your adventure in the Hall of Prophecy?"

"Yes," said Harry again. "And now everyone knows that I'm the one

—"

"No, they do not," interrupted Dumbledore. "There are only two

people in the whole world who know the full contents of the prophecy

made about you and Lord Voldemort, and they are both standing in

this smelly, spidery broom shed. It is true, however, that many have

guessed, correctly, that Voldemort sent his Death Eaters to steal a

prophecy, and that the prophecy concerned you. Now, I think I am

correct in saying that you have not told anybody that you know what

the prophecy said?"

"No," said Harry.

"A wise decision, on the whole," said Dumbledore. "Although I think

you ought to relax it in favour of your friends, Mr. Ronald Weasley and

Miss Hermione Granger. Yes," he continued, when Harry looked

startled, "I think they ought to know. You do them a disservice by not

confiding something this important to them."

"I didn't want —"

"— to worry or frighten them?" said Dumbledore, surveying Harry

over the top of his half-moon spectacles. "Or perhaps, to confess that

you yourself are worried and frightened? You need your friends,

Harry. As you so rightly said, Sirius would not have wanted you to shut

yourself away."

Hermione smiled, "as shocking as it was, I am glad he told us, if he had to

deal with that on his own as well as everything else he probably would have

had a mental breakdown at some point, though admittedly that would

probably end with him telling me anyway... so really all hiding would have

achieved would be an unnecessary mental breakdown, which honestly was

good to have avoided."

Harry said nothing, but Dumbledore did not seem to require an

answer. He continued, "On a different, though related, subject, it is my

wish that you take private lessons with me this year."

"What?" spluttered James.

"Well that's... interesting," commented Remus dryly, "I'm guessing this is

another unprecedented event."

Albus nodded, "indeed I have not taught any private lessons since I became

headmaster."

"Private — with you?" said Harry, surprised out of his preoccupied

silence.

"Yes. I think it is time that I took a greater hand in your education."

"What will you be teaching me, sir?"

"Oh, a little of this, a little of that," said Dumbledore airily.

"That's helpful."

Harry waited hopefully, but Dumbledore did not elaborate, so ho asked

something else that had been bothering him slightly.

"If I'm having lessons with you, I won't have to do Occlumency lessons

with Snape, will I?"

''Professor Snape, Harry — and no, you will not."

"Good," said Harry in relief, "because they were a —"

He stopped, careful not to say what he really thought.

"I think the word 'fiasco' would be a good one here," said Dumbledore,

nodding.

Harry laughed.

"Well, that means I won't see much of Professor Snape from now on,"

he said, "because he won't let me carry on Potions unless I get

'Outstanding' in my OWL., which I know I haven't."

"Beside's Professor Slughorn will be Harry's teacher now," said Lily, "Sev is

not there, and I doubt Professor Slughorn would mind having Harry in his

class."

"He would probably bend over and bow down for the chance to have the

boy who lived in his class, let alone indebted for that reason," remarked

Severus sarcastically.

"Don't count your owls before they are delivered," said Dumbledore

gravely. "Which, now I think of it, ought to be some time later today.

Now, two more things, Harry, before we part.

"Firstly, I wish you to keep your Invisibility Cloak with you at all times

from this moment onward. Even within Hogwarts itself. Just in case,

you understand me?"

"Why?" asked James curiously, while he suspected that the headmaster

turned a blind eye to the use of the cloak at school, he didn't think he would

openly suggest it like he did just then.

"Safety precaution Mr Potter, it was not an invitation to mischief," said

Minerva.

Albus nodded in agreement, it seemed the plots were set for Hogwarts this

year, which confirmed his suspicions about up-coming events and certain

death eater missions.

Harry nodded.

"And lastly, while you stay here, the Burrow has been given the highest

security the Ministry of Magic can provide. These measures have

caused a certain amount of inconvenience to Arthur and Molly — all

their post, for instance, is being searched at the Ministry before being

sent on. They do not mind in the slightest, for their only concern is your

safety. However, it would be poor repayment if you risked your neck

while staying with them."

"I understand," said Harry quickly.

"Very well, then," said Dumbledore, pushing open the broom shed

door and stepping out into the yard. "I see a light in the kitchen. Let us

not deprive Molly any longer of the chance to deplore how thin you

are."

Hermione snorted, the headmaster seemed to have Molly Weasley's reaction

down to a T.

"That is the end of the chapter," said Frank.

"Oh goodie," said Alice, "that means it is my turn to read."

"Merlin help us," whispered Remus shaking his head, "that means the next

chapter is going to be interesting, whether we like it or not."

AN: Thanks for reading, please review! Cheers!

5. Chapter 5

Excess of Phlegm

AN: Here is the next chapter, sorry about the wait. I will alos take this

chance to thank everyone for their lovely reviews, it has been really

encouraging. Before we get into the next chapter though, I want to just let

everyone know it will probably be about a months wait on the next chapter,

as I am travelling overseas for awhile soon, so no time for FF unfortunately.

As usual I own nothing you recognise. Happy reading! Cheers!

"Well this chapter sounds absolutely delicious," said Alice, "it is named,

and I quote: Excess of Phlegm."

"Sounds like someone has the flu," said Frank.

Hermione flushed slightly, she knew that in the past she was a bit too hard

on Fleur, as she didn't really take the time to get to know her until Shell

Cottage.

Harry and Dumbledore approached the back door of the Burrow,

which was surrounded by the familiar litter of old Wellington boots

and rusty cauldrons; Harry could hear the soft clucking of sleepy

chickens coming from a distant shed. Dumbledore knocked three times

and Harry saw sudden movement behind the kitchen window.

"Who's there?" said a nervous voice he recognized as Mrs. Weasley's.

"Declare yourself!"

"It is I, Dumbledore, bringing Harry."

The door opened at once. There stood Mrs. Weasley, short, plump, and

wearing an old green dressing gown.

"Harry, dear! Gracious, Albus, you gave me a fright, you said not to

expect you before morning!"

"We were lucky," said Dumbledore, ushering Harry over the threshold.

"Slughorn proved much more persuadable than I had expected.

Harry's doing, of course. Ah, hello, Nymphadora!"

Harry looked around and saw that Mrs. Weasley was not alone, despite

the lateness of the hour. A young witch with a pale, heart-shaped face

and mousy brown hair was sitting at the table clutching a large mug

between her hands.

"That's a bit dull for her," observed Sirius, "I hope everything is okay for

her, apart from the obvious loss of her favourite cousin."

"Hello, Professor," she said. "Wotcher, Harry."

"Hi, Tonks."

Harry thought she looked drawn, even ill, and there was something

forced in her smile. Certainly her appearance was less colourful than

usual without her customary shade of bubble-gum-pink hair.

"I'd better be off," she said quickly, standing up and pulling her cloak

around her shoulders. "Thanks for the tea and sympathy, Molly"

"Why would she need sympathy, and from Molly Weasley?" asked Regulus,

"something else must be going on, because Molly would be the last person

to help someone grieve for Sirius, after all she is not all that fond of my

brother for some reason."

"She is intimidated by my awe-inspiring charm, wit and good looks," said

Sirius gesturing broadly.

"Perhaps if it wasn't all obscured by your overly large ego Black," retorted

Severus.

"Why thank you Snape, the implication that I am correct is probably the

largest compliment you have ever given me," said Sirius.

"Please don't leave on my account," said Dumbledore courteously, "I

cannot stay, I have urgent matters to discuss with Rufus Scrimgeour."

"No, no, I need to get going," said Tonks, not meeting Dumbledore's

eyes. "'Night…"

"Dear, why not come to dinner at the weekend, Remus and Mad-Eye

are coming…?"

"No, really, Molly… thanks anyway… Good night, everyone."

Tonks hurried past Dumbledore and Harry into the yard; a few paces

beyond the doorstep, she turned on the spot and vanished into thin air.

Harry noticed that Mrs. Weasley looked troubled.

"Well, I shall see you at Hogwarts, Harry," said Dumbledore. "Take

care of yourself. Molly, your servant."

He made Mrs. Weasley a bow and followed Tonks, vanishing at

precisely the same spot.

"Probably the designated apparition point," surmised Remus.

Mrs. Weasley closed the door on the empty yard and then steered

Harry by the shoulders into the full glow of the lantern on the table to

examine his appearance.

"You're like Ron," she sighed, looking him up and down. "Both of you

look as though you've had Stretching jinxes put on you. I swear Ron's

grown four inches since I last bought him school robes. Are you

hungry, Harry?"

"Yeah, I am," said Harry, suddenly realizing just how hungry he was,

"Sit down, dear, I'll knock something up."

As Harry sat down, a furry ginger cat with a squashed face lumped

onto his knees and settled there, purring.

"So Hermione's here?" he asked happily as he tickled Crookshanks

behind the ears.

"Oh yes, she arrived the day before yesterday," said Mrs. Weasley,

rapping a large iron pot with her wand. It bounced onto the stove with

a loud clang and began to bubble at once. "Everyone's in bed, of

course, we didn't expect you for hours. Here you are…"

She tapped the pot again; it rose into the air, flew toward Harry, and

tipped over; Mrs. Weasley slid a bowl nearly beneath it just in time to

catch the stream of thick, steaming onion soup.

"Bread, dear?"

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley."

She waved her wand over her shoulder; a loaf of bread and a knife

soared gracefully onto the table; as the loaf sliced itself and the soup

pot dropped back onto the stove, Mrs. Weasley sat down opposite him.

Hermione shook her head, she was still horrible at magic cooking, well

cooking in general, but not having proper instructions or learning how to do

it made her an appalling chef.

"So you persuaded Horace Slughorn to take the job?"

Harry nodded, his mouth so full of hot soup that he could not speak.

"He taught Arthur and me," said Mrs. Weasley. "He was at Hogwarts

for ages, started around the same time as Dumbledore, I think. Did you

like him?"

His mouth now full of bread, Harry shrugged and gave a noncommittal

jerk of the head.

"I know what you mean," said Mrs. Weasley, nodding wisely. "Of

course he can be charming when he wants to be, but Arthur's never

liked him much. The Ministry's littered with Slughorn's old favourites,

he was always good at giving leg ups, but he never had much time for

Arthur… didn't seem to think he was enough of a highflier.

"While he is talented, well known and well-loved," said Minerva, "I have

found Arthur to be generally content in his role in life, not seeking to

improve himself by any means necessary."

Well, that just shows you, even Slughorn makes mistakes. I don't know

whether Ron's told you in any of his letters… it's only just happened…

but Arthur's been promoted!"

It could not have been clearer that Mrs. Weasley had been bursting to

say this. Harry swallowed a large amount of very hot soup and thought

he could feel his throat blistering.

"That's great!" he gasped.

"You are sweet," beamed Mrs. Weasley, possibly taking his watering

eyes for emotion at the news.

"Yes, Rufus Scrimgeour has set up several new offices in response to the

present situation, and Arthur's heading the Office for the Detection

and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective

Objects. It's a big job, he's got ten people reporting to him now!"

"What exactly?"

"Well, you see, in all the panic about You-Know-Who, odd things have

been cropping up for sale everywhere, things that are supposed to

guard against You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters.

Most of the room nodded, it was the same in 1978 also.

You can imagine the kind of thing… so-called protective potions that

are really gravy with a bit of bubotuber pus added, or instructions for

defensive jinxes that actually make your ears fall off… Well, in the

main the perpetrators are just people like Mundungus Fletcher, who've

never done an honest day's work in their lives and are taking

advantage of how frightened everybody is, but every now and then

something really nasty turns up. The other day Arthur confiscated a

box of cursed Sneakoscopes that were almost certainly planted by a

Death Eater.

"I guess the irony of something used for protection being used to attack is

appreciated," commented Frank.

So you see, it's a very important job, and I tell him it's just silly to miss

dealing with spark plugs and toasters and all the rest of that Muggle

rubbish." Mrs. Weasley ended her speech with a stern look, as if it had

been Harry suggesting that it was natural to miss spark plugs.

"Is Mr. Weasley still at work?" Harry asked.

"Yes, he is. As a matter of fact, he's a tiny bit late… He said he'd be

back around midnight…"

She turned to look at a large clock that was perched awkwardly on top

of a pile of sheets in the washing basket at the end of the table. Harry

recognized it at once: It had nine hands, each inscribed with the name

of a family member, and usually hung on the Weasleys' sitting room

wall, though its current position suggested that Mrs. Weasley had taken

to carrying it around the house with her.

"I think ever since Arthur's attack," said Hermione thinking back.

Every single one of its nine hands was now pointing at "mortal peril."

"It's been like that for a while now," said Mrs. Weasley, in an

unconvincingly casual voice, "ever since You-Know-Who came back

into the open. I suppose everybody's in mortal danger now… I don't

think it can be just our family… but I don't know anyone else who's got

a clock like this, so I can't check. Oh!"

With a sudden exclamation she pointed at the clock's face. Mr.

Weasley's hand had switched to "travelling."

"He's coming!"

And sure enough, a moment later there was a knock on the back door.

Mrs. Weasley jumped up and hurried to it; with one hand on the

doorknob and her face pressed against the wood she called softly,

"Arthur, is that you?"

"Wouldn't the clock tell her that?" asked James.

"Yes," came Mr. Weasley's weary voice. "But I would say that even if I

were a Death Eater, dear. Ask the question!"

"Oh, honestly…"

"Molly!"

"All right, all right… What is your dearest ambition?"

"To find out how airplanes stay up."

Mrs. Weasley nodded and turned the doorknob, but apparently Mr.

Weasley was holding tight to it on the other side, because the door

remained firmly shut.

"Molly! I've got to ask you your question first!"

"Arthur, really, this is just silly…"

"What do you like me to call you when we're alone together?"

Even by the dim light of the lantern Harry could tell that Mrs. Weasley

had turned bright red; he himself felt suddenly warm around the ears

and neck, and hastily gulped soup, clattering his spoon as loudly as he

could against the bowl.

"Mollywobbles," whispered a mortified Mrs. Weasley into the crack at

the edge of the door.

A few people snorted at the answer.

"Reggie, you will have to use that next time you see her," decreed Sirius.

"Why can't you do it?" asked Regulus.

"The only time we see her is when Aunt Lucy and her family does

something, since of the two of us you are still a member of the family, you

will be the one she sees next, ergo the illustrious task falls to you."

"Correct," said Mr. Weasley. "Now you can let me in."

Mrs. Weasley opened the door to reveal her husband, a thin, balding,

red-haired wizard wearing horn-rimmed spectacles and a long and

dusty travelling cloak.

"I still don't see why we have to go through that every time you come

home," said Mrs. Weasley, still pink in the face as she helped her

husband out of his cloak. "I mean, a Death Eater might have forced the

answer out of you before impersonating you!"

"I know, dear, but it's Ministry procedure, and I have to set an

example. Something smells good… onion soup?"

"To whom must he set an example?" asked James with a look of innocent

curiosity on his face, which more than proved he was taking the mickey out

of Arthur Weasley.

Mr. Weasley turned hopefully in the direction of the table.

"Harry! We didn't expect you until morning!"

They shook hands, and Mr. Weasley dropped into the chair beside

Harry as Mrs. Weasley set a bowl of soup in front of him too.

"Thanks, Molly. It's been a tough night. Some idiot's started selling

Metamorph-Medals. Just sling them around your neck and you'll be

able to change your appearance at will. A hundred thousand disguises,

all for ten Galleons!"

"And what really happens when you put them on?"

"Mostly you just turn a fairly unpleasant orange colour, but a couple of

people have also sprouted tentacle like warts all over their bodies. As if

St. Mungo's didn't have enough to do already!"

"Those products must put such a huge strain on the healers," said Lily, "see

boys there is another reason why you should do any dangerous pranks."

"Our pranks are always reversible Lily," said James with a winning smile,

"people just don't like to ask us for our help to fix them, their own fault

really..."

Lily rolled her eyes and threw a cushion at her boyfriend.

"It sounds like the sort of thing Fred and George would find funny,"

said Mrs. Weasley hesitantly. "Are you sure…?"

"Of course I am!" said Mr. Weasley. "The boys wouldn't do anything

like that now, not when people are desperate for protection!"

"So is that why you're late, Metamorph-Medals?"

"No, we got wind of a nasty backfiring jinx down in Elephant and

Castle, but luckily the Magical Law Enforcement Squad had sorted it

out by the time we got there…"

Harry stifled a yawn behind his hand.

"Bed," said an undeceived Mrs. Weasley at once. "I've got Fred and

George's room all ready for you, you'll have it to yourself."

"Why, where are they?"

"Oh, they're in Diagon Alley, sleeping in the little flat over their joke

shop as they're so busy," said Mrs. Weasley. "I must say, I didn't

approve at first, but they do seem to have a bit of a flair for business!

Come on, dear, your trunks already up there."

"They do have style," admitted Remus, "so it isn't surprising that it has been

transferred over to their beloved business also."

"'Night, Mr. Weasley," said Harry, pushing back his chair.

Crookshanks leapt lightly from his lap and slunk out of the room.

"G'night, Harry," said Mr. Weasley.

Harry saw Mrs. Weasley glance at the clock in the washing basket as

they left the kitchen. All the hands were once again at "mortal peril."

Fred and George's bedroom was on the second floor. Mrs. Weasley

pointed her wand at a lamp on the bedside table and it ignited at once,

bathing the room in a pleasant golden glow. Though a large vase of

flowers had been placed on a desk in front of the small window, their

perfume could not disguise the lingering smell of what Harry thought

was gunpowder.

"Why am I not surprised," said Hermione.

"What is gun powder?" asked James.

"Something muggles use to make things explode... in other words the twins

have been blowing stuff up," explained Lily.

A considerable amount of floor space was devoted to a vast number of

unmarked, sealed cardboard boxes, amongst which stood Harry's

school trunk. The room looked as though it was being used as a

temporary warehouse.

"It probably was," said Remus dryly.

Hedwig hooted happily at Harry from her perch on top of a large

wardrobe, then took off through the window; Harry knew she had been

waiting to see him before going hunting. Harry bade Mrs. Weasley

good night, put on pyjamas, and got into one of the beds. There was

something hard inside the pillowcase. He groped inside it and pulled

out a sticky purple-and-orange sweet, which he recognized as a Puking

Pastille. Smiling to himself, he rolled over and was instantly asleep.

Seconds later, or so it seemed to Harry, he was awakened by what

sounded like cannon fire as the door burst open. Sitting bolt upright, he

heard the rasp of the curtains being pulled back: The dazzling sunlight

seemed to poke him hard in both eyes. Shielding them with one hand,

he groped hopelessly for his glasses with the other.

"Wuzzgoinon?"

"We didn't know you were here already!" said a loud and excited voice,

and he received a sharp blow to the top of the head.

"Ron, don't hit him!" said a girl's voice reproachfully.

"Enter the dynamic duo of Granger and Weasley I presume," said James.

"Something like that."

Harry's hand found his glasses and he shoved them on, though the light

was so bright he could hardly see anyway. A long, looming shadow

quivered in front of him for a moment; he blinked and Ron Weasley

came into focus, grinning down at him.

"All right?"

"Never been better," said Harry, rubbing the top of his head and

slumping back onto his pillows. "You?"

"Not bad," said Ron, pulling over a cardboard box and sitting on it.

"When did you get here? Mum's only just told us!"

"What time was it?" asked Frank.

"About seven in the morning, too early for summer holidays if you ask me,"

said Hermione, "he woke up, went down for breakfast, found out Harry was

hear, then dragged me out of bed so as to wake up another innocent person

from their blissful slumber."

"But you were there," pointed out Regulus.

"I wanted to see Harry, I had been worried about him over the summer with

the whole ministry fiasco and all, so I decided I would wait and hex Ronald

another day for interrupting my beauty sleep."

"About one o'clock this morning."

"Were the Muggles all right? Did they treat you okay?"

"Same as usual," said Harry, as Hermione perched herself on the edge

of his bed, "they didn't talk to me much, but I like it better that way.

How're you, Hermione?"

"Oh, I'm fine," said Hermione, who was scrutinizing Harry as though

he was sickening for something.

He thought he knew what was behind this, and as he had no wish to

discuss Sirius's death or any other miserable subject at the moment, he

said, "What's the time? Have I missed breakfast?"

"Don't worry about that, Mum's bringing you up a tray; she reckons

you look underfed," said Ron, rolling his eyes.

"Of course," said Sirius, "Mollywobbles likes to mollycoddle."

"So, what's been going on?"

"Nothing much, I've just been stuck at my aunt and uncle's, haven't I?"

"Come off it!" said Ron. "You've been off with Dumbledore!"

"It wasn't that exciting. He just wanted me to help him persuade this

old teacher to come out of retirement. His name's Horace Slughorn."

"Oh," said Ron, looking disappointed. "We thought…"

Hermione flashed a warning look at Ron, and Ron changed tack at top

speed.

"… we thought it'd be something like that."

"You did?" said Harry, amused.

"Yeah… yeah, now Umbridge has left, obviously we need a new

Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, don't we? So, er, what's he

like?"

"He looks a bit like a walrus, and he used to be Head of Slytherin," said

Harry.

"Something wrong, Hermione?"

She was watching him as though expecting strange symptoms to

manifest themselves at any moment. She rearranged her features

hastily in an unconvincing smile.

"Bloody observant prick," muttered Hermione.

"No, of course not! So, um, did Slughorn seem like he'll be a good

teacher?"

"Dunno," said Harry. "He can't be worse than Umbridge, can he?"

"That's true."

"I know someone who's worse than Umbridge," said a voice from the

doorway. Ron's younger sister slouched into the room, looking

irritable.

"Whoever she was insulting, that was a bit harsh," said Regulus.

Hermione blushed slightly, "it was a bit."

"Hi, Harry."

"What's up with you?" Ron asked.

"It's her," said Ginny, plonking herself down on Harry's bed. "She's

driving me mad."

"What's she done now?" asked Hermione sympathetically.

"It's the way she talks to me… you'd think I was about three!"

"I know," said Hermione, dropping her voice. "She's so full of herself."

"Who on earth are you talking about," asked Severus.

Hermione blushed, she couldn't believe she was so mean to Fleur. The fact

she didn't know Fleur was no real excuse in her mind.

Harry was astonished to hear Hermione talking about Mrs. Weasley

like this and could not blame Ron for saying angrily, "Can't you two

lay off her for five seconds?"

Hermione burst out laughing at that, she couldn't believe that Harry thought

they were talking about Molly Weasley, though considering the

circumstances it wasn't completely illogical.

"I'm guessing you aren't talking about Molly in reality," surmised Frank,

from the words in the book and Hermione's reaction to Harry's thoughts.

"Oh, that's right, defend her," snapped Ginny. "We all know you can't

get enough of her."

This seemed an odd comment to make about Ron's mother. Starting to

feel that he was missing something, Harry said, "Who are you…?"

But his question was answered before he could finish it. The bedroom

door flew open again, and Harry instinctively yanked the bedcovers up

to his chin so hard that Hermione and Ginny slid off the bed onto the

floor.

A young woman was standing in the doorway, a woman of such

breathtaking beauty that the room seemed to have become strangely

airless. She was tall and willowy with long blonde hair and appeared to

emanate a faint, silvery glow. To complete this vision of perfection, she

was carrying a heavily laden breakfast tray.

"Fleur Delacour," guessed Lily.

Hermione nodded.

James looked ready to drool at whatever mental image he had conjured

from the description.

"James!" scolded Lily.

"Please forgive dear old Prongs, Lily," said Sirius, "the poor boy must be

feeling a bit hungry, he really shows the truth of the saying that 'the way to

a man's heart is through his stomach'. Bring him a tray of food and he will

be eating out of the palm of your hand quicker than you could hex him

blue... add a French maid's outfit and I doubt there is a thing in the world he

won't do."

Lily shook her head with a smile.

"Well while Evans is contemplating Potter's birthday present, perhaps I

might be permitted to continue?" asked Alice pointedly, bringing the

attention back to the book.

"'Arry," she said in a throaty voice. "Eet 'as been too long!"

As she swept over the threshold toward him, Mrs. Weasley was

revealed, bobbing along in her wake, looking rather cross.

"There was no need to bring up the tray, I was just about to do it

myself!"

"Eet was no trouble," said Fleur Delacour, setting the tray across

Harry's knees and then swooping to kiss him on each cheek: He felt the

places where her mouth had touched him burn. "I 'ave been longing to

see 'im. You remember my seester, Gabrielle? She never stops talking

about 'Arry Potter. She will be delighted to see you again."

"Oh… is she here too?" Harry croaked.

"No, no, silly boy," said Fleur with a tinkling laugh, "I mean next

summer, when we… but do you not know?"

Her great blue eyes widened and she looked reproachfully at Mrs.

Weasley, who said, "We hadn't got around to telling him yet."

Fleur turned back to Harry, swinging her silvery sheet of hair so that it

whipped Mrs. Weasley across the face. "Bill and I are going to be

married!"

"Oh," said Harry blankly. He could not help noticing how Mrs.

Weasley, Hermione, and Ginny were all determinedly avoiding one

another's gaze.

"I'm guessing the Weasley women don't really like Fleur," observed Sirius.

"No," said Hermione, "particularly not Mrs Weasley, I think she might be

somewhat prejudiced against Veela's or rather had a stereotypical view of

them, in anycase she didn't approve of the relationship with Fleur, after all

no one is good enough for her son, and well with Fleur staying there for the

summer, let's just say Molly isn't as subtle as she thinks she is and made her

dislike rather well known, which in turned really hurt Fleur, which made

her become a bit of bitch, as Molly always tried to undermine her."

"I'm guessing your opinion of her has changed," observed Regulus.

Hermione nodded bashfully, "I was out of line and I admit it. I have spent a

bit of time with Fleur since then and I genuinely like her and count her as

one of my friends, and I know that Harry does as well. I think if they were

given the chance Harry and Fleur probably would have become close

friends."

"Wow. Er… congratulations!"

She swooped down upon him and kissed him again.

"Bill is very busy at ze moment, working very 'ard, and I only work

part-time at Gringotts for my Eenglish, so he brought me 'ere for a few

days to get to know 'is family properly. I was so pleased to 'ear you

would be coming… zere isn't much to do 'ere, unless you like cooking

and chickens! Well… enjoy your breakfast, 'Arry!"

With these words she turned gracefully and seemed to float out of the

room, closing the door quietly behind her.

Mrs. Weasley made a noise that sounded like, "tchah!"

"Mum hates her," said Ginny quietly.

"I do not hate her!" said Mrs. Weasley in a cross whisper.

"Despite all evidence to the contrary," said Severus sarcastically.

"I just think they've hurried into this engagement, that's all!"

"They've known each other a year," said Ron, who looked oddly groggy

and was staring at the closed door.

"Well, that's not very long! I know why it's happened, of course. Its all

this uncertainty with You-Know-Who coming back, people think they

might be dead tomorrow, so they're rushing all sorts of decisions they'd

normally take time over. It was the same last time he was powerful,

people eloping left, right, and centre…"

"Including you and Dad," said Ginny slyly.

"Yes, well, your father and I were made for each other, what was the

point in waiting?" said Mrs. Weasley. "Whereas Bill and Fleur…

well… what have they really got in common? He's a hardworking,

down-to-earth sort of person, whereas she's…"

"Much the same once you see past the whole veela thing," admitted

Hermione, "although I didn't realise it at the time."

"A cow," said Ginny, nodding. "But Bill's not that down-to-earth. He's

a Curse-Breaker, isn't he, he likes a bit of adventure, a bit of glamour…

I expect that's why he's gone for Phlegm."

"Ah the elusive chapter title is revealed," observed Frank.

"Stop calling her that, Ginny," said Mrs. Weasley sharply, as Harry

and Hermione laughed. "Well, I'd better get on… Eat your eggs while

they're warm, Harry."

Looking careworn, she left the room. Ron still seemed slightly punch-

drunk; he was shaking his head experimentally like a dog trying to rid

its ears of water.

"Don't you get used to her if she's staying in the same house?" Harry

asked.

"Well, you do," said Ron, "but if she jumps out at you unexpectedly,

like then…"

"It's pathetic," said Hermione furiously, striding away from Ron as far

as she could go and turning to face him with her arms folded once she

had reached the wall.

"Jealous?" said Regulus with a bit of a smirk.

"A little," admitted Hermione, "I had a bit of a thing for Ron."

"Did I understand the use of past tense?" asked Regulus as he snorted and

leaned close, "hopefully we will get to personally experience jealous side of

you here as well."

Hermione smiled and blushed slightly, but was determined to have the last

word, so responded teasingly, "why on earth would I be jealous of your

brother's fangirls? They don't have a brain between them."

Regulus smirked at the response, "because they are also pursuing other

members of the Black family as well, apparently money and dashing good

looks appeal to them."

"You mean Andromeda don't you?" replied Hermione cheekily.

"Enough of the sweet nothings you two, will I have to split you up in order

to keep my lunch down?" asked Alice rather loudly.

"Like you and Longbottom can talk," replied Regulus, but nevertheless the

conversation between the two ceased.

"You don't really want her around forever?" Ginny asked Ron

incredulously. When he merely shrugged, she said, "Well, Mum's going

to put a stop to it if she can, I bet you anything."

"How's she going to manage that?" asked Harry.

"She keeps trying to get Tonks round for dinner. I think she's hoping

Bill will fall for Tonks instead. I hope he does, I'd much rather have her

in the family."

Hermione snorted dryly, even if Bill did fall for Tonks, Tonks would never

fall for Bill. Besides she found out later that Fleur and Nymphadora were

actually fairly good friends, probably stemming from being nearly the only

two young women in a male-dominated Order as well as both having

people judge them solely on their looks, but the friendship between the two

meant that Tonks would never do anything to come between Bill and Fleur,

even if she wasn't mooning over Remus.

"Yeah, that'll work," said Ron sarcastically. "Listen, no bloke in his

right mind's going to fancy Tonks when Fleur's around.

"I don't know," said James, "after all Tonks is a metamorphagus, so she can

turn into whoever she wants, which means she can probably look hotter

than Fleur if she wanted to."

"You have to feel sorry for that girl when she meets hormonal teenage boys:

a metamorph with a possible nickname of Nympho... she is in for one hell

of adolescence," said Alice.

Sirius cringed slightly, "Smith is right, I really feel sorry for Nymphie when

she gets to Hogwarts... no wonder she hates her name."

I mean, Tonks is okay- looking when she isn't doing stupid things to her

hair and her nose, but…"

"She's a damn sight nicer than Phlegm!" said Ginny.

"Fleur was better once you got to know her, however she could be very

blunt and upfront though, which is something you learn to appreciate after

awhile," said Hermione.

"And she's more intelligent, she's an Auror!" said Hermione from the

corner.

"Well Fleur does work at Gringotts, so I doubt she is a real slouch, as well

as getting into the tournament and still being alive," pointed out James.

"Oh yes," mocked Lily, "stand up for the veela."

"Well you aren't there Lily-flower so I must defend person who comes

closest to achieving your insurpassing beauty," replied James with a smile.

"I think I might throw up," muttered Severus under his breath.

"Fleur's not stupid, she was good enough to enter the Triwizard

Tournament," said Harry.

"Not you as well!" said Hermione bitterly.

"Somebody is jealous," sang Lily under her breath.

"I suppose you like the way Phlegm says ''Arry,' do you?" asked Ginny

scornfully.

"Apparently Hermione wasn't the only one," observed Remus, "seems

Ginny's crush on Harry hasn't abated."

"I feel kind of bad," said Hermione, "because Harry and Fleur had the

potential to become really close friends thanks to everything in the

tournament, but all of the women in the house seemed to try and prevent it."

"No," said Harry, wishing he hadn't spoken, "I was just saying,

Phlegm… I mean, Fleur…"

"I'd much rather have Tonks in the family," said Ginny. "At least she's

a laugh."

"She hasn't been much of a laugh lately," said Ron. "Every time I've

seen her she's looked more like Moaning Myrtle."

"That's not fair," snapped Hermione. "She still hasn't got over what

happened… you know… I mean, he was her cousin!"

"Oh Nymphie," said Sirius, "I don't like you when you are depressed, I

would must rather you smile."

"Perhaps she just needs someone to help cheer her up," smirked Alice,

"perhaps Lupin can have that doll party with her that you mentioned a few

days ago, I'm sure forcing a werewolf to endure a puddifoot-esque tea party

with a bunch of dolls would make anyone smile."

Most people shook their heads at Alice's suggestion. Hermione smirked,

"that is a good idea, if only someone mentioned it to Remus..."

Harry's heart sank. They had arrived at Sirius. He picked up a fork

and began shovelling scrambled eggs into his mouth, hoping to deflect

any invitation to join in this part of the conversation.

"Tonks and Sirius barely knew each other!" said Ron. "Sirius was in

Azkaban half her life and before that their families never met…"

"I beg to differ," said Sirius, "i spent a good part of the summer with my

lovely cousin, I know her rather well and can't wait to tease her as she

grows into a charming, ungraceful lady-type person."

"Admittedly even I know Nym," said Regulus, "though I'm guessing that

Ron was trying to make a point rather than worrying about the major

details."

"That's not the point," said Hermione. "She thinks it was her fault he

died!"

"How does she work that one out?" asked Harry, in spite of himself.

"Oh great," said Alice, "another idiot with survivors guilt, Sirius why did

you have to die? I don't know if I can stand anymore ridiculous unnecessary

angst."

"I'm glad that is the reason you are hoping for my continued existence...

whatever happened to actually liking me?"

"Why on earth would anyone do that?" replied Alice.

"Well, she was fighting Bellatrix Lestrange, wasn't she? I think she

feels that if only she had finished her off, Bellatrix couldn't have killed

Sirius."

"That's stupid," said Ron.

"It's survivor's guilt," said Hermione. "I know Lupin's tried to talk her

round, but she's still really down. She's actually having trouble with

her Metamorphosing!"

Sirius cursed under his breath, that was bad.

Hermione smiled wryly as the misinterpretation of Remus' future actions.

"With her…?"

"She can't change her appearance like she used to," explained

Hermione. "I think her powers must have been affected by shock, or

something."

"I didn't know that could happen," said Harry.

"Nor did I," said Hermione, "but I suppose if you're really

depressed…"

The door opened again and Mrs. Weasley popped her head in.

"Ginny," she whispered, "come downstairs and help me with the

lunch."

"I'm talking to this lot!" said Ginny, outraged.

"Now!" said Mrs. Weasley, and withdrew.

"She only wants me there so she doesn't have to be alone with Phlegm!"

said Ginny crossly. She swung her long red hair around in a very good

imitation of Fleur and pranced across the room with her arms held

aloft like a ballerina.

"You lot had better come down quickly too," she said as she left.

Harry took advantage of the temporary silence to eat more breakfast.

Hermione was peering into Fred and George's boxes, though every now

and then she cast sideways looks at Harry. Ron, who was now helping

himself to Harry's toast, was still gazing dreamily at the door.

"What's this?" Hermione asked eventually, holding up what looked like

a small telescope.

"Dunno," said Ron, "but if Fred and George left it here, it's probably

not ready for the joke shop yet, so be careful"

"Your mum said the shop's going well," said Harry. "Said Fred and

George have got a real flair for business."

"That's an understatement," said Ron. "They're raking in the

Galleons! I can't wait to see the place, we haven't been to Diagon Alley

yet, because Mum says Dad's got to be there for extra security and he's

been really busy at work, but it sounds excellent."

"And what about Percy?" asked Harry; the third-eldest Weasley

brother had fallen out with the rest of the family. "Is he talking to your

mum and dad again?"

"Nope," said Ron.

"But he knows your dad was right all along now about Voldemort being

back —"

"Dumbledore says people find it far easier to forgive others for being

wrong than being right," said Hermione. "I heard him telling your

mum, Ron."

"Sounds like the sort of mental thing Dumbledore would say," said

Ron.

"Wounds to a person's pride are the hardest to recover from," commented

Albus serenely.

"He's going to be giving me private lessons this year," said Harry

conversationally.

Ron choked on his bit of toast, and Hermione gasped.

"You kept that quiet!" said Ron.

"I only just remembered," said Harry honestly. "He told me last night

in your broom shed."

"Blimey… private lessons with Dumbledore!" said Ron, looking

impressed. "I wonder why he's…?"

His voice tailed away. Harry saw him and Hermione exchange looks.

Harry laid down his knife and fork, his heart beating rather fast

considering that all he was doing was sitting in bed. Dumbledore had

said to do it… Why not now? He fixed his eyes on his fork, which was

gleaming in the sunlight streaming into his lap, and said, "I don't know

exactly why he's going to be giving me lessons, but I think it must be

because of the prophecy."

Neither Ron nor Hermione spoke. Harry had the impression that both

had frozen. He continued, still speaking to his fork, "You know, the one

they were trying to steal at the Ministry."

"Of course we knew what he was talking about!' said an indignant

Hermione, "we were just shocked that he mentioned it."

"Nobody knows what it said, though," said Hermione quickly. "It got

smashed."

"Although the Prophet says…" began Ron, but Hermione said, "Shh!"

"The Prophet's got it right," said Harry, looking up at them both with a

great effort: Hermione seemed frightened and Ron amazed.

"Oh yes, because it is such an honour to be forced into mortal combat with

a murdering megalomainiac," sneered Severus.

"I think he was probably amazed by the fact that the Prophet managed to

print something true... it is a rather rare occurrence," pointed out Lily, "there

is no need to be so harsh about the poor boy."

"That glass ball that smashed wasn't the only record of the prophecy. I

heard the whole thing in Dumbledore's office, he was the one the

prophecy was made to, so he could tell me. From what it said," Harry

took a deep breath, "it looks like I'm the one who's got to finish off

Voldemort… At least, it said neither of us could live while the other

survives."

"It was shocking at the time to be told that, and it took me a few days to

process," admitted Hermione, "however it wasn't quite as unexpected as I

thought it would be considering Harry's history."

The three of them gazed at one another in silence for a moment. Then

there was a loud bang and Hermione vanished behind a puff of black

smoke.

"Neat."

Hermione rolled her eyes, she was so glad when she was able to hex the

twins back later on in the year.

"Hermione!" shouted Harry and Ron; the breakfast tray slid to the

floor with a crash.

Hermione emerged, coughing, out of the smoke, clutching the telescope

and sporting a brilliantly purple black eye.

"I squeezed it and it… it punched me!" she gasped.

And sure enough, they now saw a tiny fist on a long spring protruding

from the end of the telescope.

A few people laughed.

"Oi," said an amused but slightly offended Hermione, "that hurt! You

shouldn't laugh. That's mean!"

"Don't worry," said Ron, who was plainly trying not to laugh, "Mum'll

fix that, she's good at healing minor injuries…"

"Oh well, never mind that now!" said Hermione hastily. "Harry, oh,

Harry…"

She sat down on the edge of his bed again.

"We wondered, after we got back from the Ministry… Obviously, we

didn't want to say anything to you, but from what Lucius Malfoy said

about the prophecy, how it was about you and Voldemort, well, we

thought it might be something like this… Oh, Harry…" She stared at

him, then whispered, "Are you scared?"

"Not as much as I was," said Harry. "When I first heard it, I was… but

now, it seems as though I always knew I'd have to face him in the

end…"

"I guess Harry is right though," said James with a sigh, "after everything

which he apparently goes through it isn't all that surprising that it will come

down to that."

"It's true," said Sirius, "if anyone has a psycho mass murderer coming after

them they will either get you in the end, or stop trying, and the only way

that is going to happen is if said psycho starts pushing up daisies."

"But stopping the Dark Lord will be no mean feat, considering the

horcruxes which are probably floating around, I doubt they will be

destroyed without a fight," said Regulus.

"Indeed," said Minerva dryly, sending Albus a pointed look "they might

take a few of the vanquisher's limbs down with them."

"When we heard Dumbledore was collecting you in person, we thought

he might be telling you something or showing you something to do with

the prophecy," said Ron eagerly. "And we were kind of right, weren't

we? He wouldn't be giving you lessons if he thought you were a goner,

wouldn't waste his time — he must think you've got a chance!"

'Or he knew he was going to die soon and had to pass information on,'

thought Hermione to herself, barely repressing a derisive snort.

"That's true," said Hermione. "I wonder what he'll teach you, Harry?

Really advanced defensive magic, probably… powerful counter-

curses… anti-jinxes…"

"I'm guessing you are going into stress relief mode now," said Sirius, "you

do seem to talk quite a bit when you are stressed out or trying to come to

grips with something."

Harry did not really listen. A warmth was spreading through him that

had nothing to do with the sunlight; a tight obstruction in his chest

seemed to be dissolving. He knew that Ron and Hermione were more

shocked than they were letting on, but the mere fact that they were still

there on either side of him, speaking bracing words of comfort, not

shrinking from him as though he were contaminated or dangerous, was

worth more than he could ever tell them.

Hermione smiled at that, she was glad Harry knew that nothing that

happened would stop her from standing by his side and helping him, even

this time-travelling mission, whilst also a magical experiment, was done on

her part to help ensure Harry, despite his own objections, would be able to

have a better life than he had in her reality.

"… and evasive enchantments generally," concluded Hermione. "Well,

at least you know one lesson you'll be having this year, that's one more

than Ron and me. I wonder when our OWL results will come?"

"Can't be long now, it's been a month," said Ron.

"Hang on," said Harry, as another part of last night's conversation

came back to him. "I think Dumbledore said our OWL results would

be arriving today!"

"Today?" shrieked Hermione. "Today? But why didn't you… oh my

God… you should have said…"

"Well somebody is excited," drawled Severus, somewhat amused at

Hermione's antics, "i don't remember anyone else ever being quite that

excited about school results."

She leapt to her feet.

"I'm going to see whether any owls have come…"

But when Harry arrived downstairs ten minutes later, fully dressed and

carrying his empty breakfast tray, it was to find Hermione sitting at the

kitchen table in great agitation, while Mrs. Weasley tried to lessen her

resemblance to half a panda.

"I did not look like a panda!" insisted Hermione shrilly.

"Sure sure," said James.

"Even if you did, I'm sure you were a very cute panda," said Regulus with a

half smile.

Hermione smiled slightly, "still, I did not look like a panda!"

"It just won't budge," Mrs. Weasley was saying anxiously, standing

over Hermione with her wand in her hand and a copy of The Healer's

Helpmate open at "Bruises, Cuts, and Abrasions." "This has always

worked before, I just can't understand it."

"It'll be Fred and George's idea of a funny joke, making sure it can't

come off," said Ginny.

"But it's got to come off!" squeaked Hermione. "I can't go around

looking like this forever!"

"So you admit you do look like a panda," teased Regulus.

Hermione glared at the offending persons in the room who chose to laugh at

her situation.

"You won't, dear, we'll find an antidote, don't worry," said Mrs.

Weasley soothingly.

"Bill told me Fred and George are very amusing!" said Fleur, smiling

serenely.

"Yes, I can hardly breathe for laughing," snapped Hermione.

She jumped up and started walking round and round the kitchen,

twisting her fingers together.

"Mrs. Weasley, you're quite, quite sure no owls have arrived this

morning?"

"Yes, dear, I'd have noticed," said Mrs. Weasley patiently. "But it's

barely nine, there's still plenty of time…"

"I know I messed up Ancient Runes," muttered Hermione feverishly, "I

definitely made at least one serious mistranslation. And the Defence

Against the Dark Arts practical was no good at all. I thought

Transfiguration went all right at the time, but looking back —"

"Love I hate to say it, but you are babbling," said Lily.

"I know," said Hermione blushing at her past self's behaviour, it didn't seem

so idiotic back then, "in my defence my mind was still really from a certain

prophecy so that may have made me slightly more hysterical than

appropriate."

"So what were your excuses for the other time you went insane then?"

asked James with a grin.

Hermione blushed again, "that admittedly was another reason why I didn't

like Fleur, she is rather blunt, and she told me straight out that I was making

an arse out of myself so I should just calm down, because there was nothing

I could do about it other than drive everyone else mad... for some reason I

liked her even less after that, but I think she had a point."

"No kidding."

"Hermione, will you shut up, you're not the only one who's nervous!"

barked Ron. "And when you've got your eleven 'Outstanding'

OWLs…"

"Don't, don't, don't!" said Hermione, flapping her hands hysterically.

"I know I've failed everything!"

"What happens if we fail?" Harry asked the room at large, but it was

again Hermione who answered.

"We discuss our options with our Head of House, I asked Professor

McGonagall at the end of last term."

Harry's stomach squirmed. He wished he had eaten less breakfast.

"At Beauxbatons," said Fleur complacently, "we 'ad a different way of

doing things. I think eet was better. We sat our examinations after six

years of study, not five, and then…"

"Indeed," said Minerva, "it is slightly different, in France you have to repeat

subjects until you pass them and their education is rather complete at the

end of the six years, the final year is then more specialised than Hogwarts

and is tailored towards the various career areas. Both systems have merits,

however I will admit to being more partial to that employed by Hogwarts."

Fleur's words were drowned in a scream. Hermione was pointing

through the kitchen window. Three black specks were clearly visible in

the sky, growing larger all the time.

"I'm guessing at the time you didn't do much to endear yourself to Fleur

either," observed Frank.

"I can almost feel for the poor French maid," said Alice, "it is rather

intimidating to meet your boyfriend or fiancé's family and have everyone in

the house determined to hate you." She gave a pointed look at Frank

"My family isn't that bad!" defended Frank, "oh alright I'll admit my mother

and uncle weren't exactly the world's most accommodating, but I'm sure

they warmed up to you eventually."

"Oh yes," said Alice, "because throwing insults at someone constantly is

such a good example of that, perhaps I'll try it myself next time I see them."

"You did it pretty well the first time round," said Frank under his breath,

remembering Alice asked his mother, why she felt the need to wear a bird

of prey on her hat, apart from drawing the attention away from the vulture-

shaped nose adorning her face. Suffice to say neither party were impressed

at the time, however he was sure that his mother secretly enjoyed sparring

with Alice and would warm up to her... eventually.

"They're definitely owls," said Ron hoarsely, jumping up to join

Hermione at the window.

"And there are three of them," said Harry, hastening to her other side.

"One for each of us," said Hermione in a terrified whisper. "Oh no…

oh no… oh no…"

She gripped both Harry and Ron tightly around the elbows.

The owls were flying directly at the Burrow, three handsome tawnies,

each of which, it became clear as they flew lower over the path leading

up to the house, was carrying a large square envelope.

"Oh no!" squealed Hermione.

Mrs. Weasley squeezed past them and opened the kitchen window. One,

two, three, the owls soared through it and landed on the table in a neat

line. All three of them lifted their right legs. Harry moved forward. The

letter addressed to him was tied to the leg of the owl in the middle. He

untied it with fumbling fingers. To his left, Ron was trying to detach his

own results; to his right, Hermione's hands were shaking so much she

was making her whole owl tremble. Nobody in the kitchen spoke. At

last, Harry managed to detach the envelope. He slit it open quickly and

unfolded the parchment inside.

Ordinary Wizarding Level Results

Pass Grades:

Outstanding (O)

Exceeds Expectations (E)

Acceptable (A)

Fail Grades:

Poor (P)

Dreadful (D)

Troll (T)

"Ooh," said Lily, "how did he go?"

"We'll have to see Evans, my lovely, after all I am the one with the

knowledge and power... so you'll all have to just be nice to me," replied

Alice. Lily stuck her tongue out at her friend.

Harry James Potter has achieved:

Astronomy: A

Care of Magical Creatures: E

Charms: E

Defense Against the Dark Arts: O

Divination: P

Herbology: E

History of Magic: D

Potions: E

Transfiguration: E

"So that is one O, five E's and an A with two fails," tallied up James,

looking slightly disappointed, "that is good I suppose."

"What did you get?" asked Hermione curiously.

"All Os with an E in arithmacy and an A in history," replied James.

"Everyone else?" asked Hermione curiously.

"Straight O's with an E in history and muggle studies, though please note

that I wasn't enrolled in MS," said Sirius.

"Pretty much straight O's, but I got an E in herbology and failed Potions

dismally," said Remus.

"Your turn Mie," prompted Sirius.

"You'll see," teased Hermione back, "Regulus?"

Regulus mumbled something under his breath, incoherently.

"You might want to repeat that one brother of mine," said Sirius with a grin,

already knowing the answers, rather enjoying forcing his brother into the

spotlight for once, something which he tended to avoid most of the time

outside of quidditch.

Regulus glared at Sirius, "fine I got straight O's."

Hermione let out a low whistle, if someone announced that a couple of

years ago, she probably would have been green with envy, but she knew

now that there were more important things in the world than school,

however that didn't mean she didn't appreciate how much work that would

have taken and was not deeply impressed by the academic fortitude of the

young man sitting next to her.

"Your turn Snape," said Regulus, eager to move the attention away from

himself.

"Os in all via history, which was an A and runes which was an E, I was not

stupid enough to bother trying to take the utter bollocks which was

divinitian," said Severus.

"Professors?" asked James with a grin.

"Not going to happen Mr Potter," said Minerva sternly.

"Well in that case I got O's in all wanded subjects, arithmacy and runes,

with E's in history, potions, herbology and astro," volunteered Frank.

"I got a delightful scorecard filled with five O's three E's and an A," said

Alice, "while Lily next to me outsmarted all the other girls in the year, and

achieved a wonderful seven O's with two E's."

"Indeed," said Albus pleasantly, "it seems we have all of our best students

here together in one room, although I am sure that is not a mere coincidence

and was planned as such when this trip was designed."

Hermione nodded in affirmation, "curiously, what is Peter like as a

student?"

Minerva answered this one, "as much as it pains me to say it given future

events, Mr Pettigrew is a reasonably well talented student, and sits

comfortably in the above average bracket of students, however given his

companions who as you have heard are some of the most talented students

we have, his own achievements tend to pale and lose their weight and

importance, but as I said by no means is he untalented, after all he did

manage to become an animagus, which is something which can only be

done through help to a small extent."

"Well as merry as this was, I am eager to move on and hear Mie's results, so

Al, fire away," said Frank.

Harry read the parchment through several times, his breathing

becoming easier with each reading. It was all right: He had always

known that he would fail Divination, and he had had no chance of

passing History of Magic, given that he had collapsed halfway through

the examination, but he had passed everything else! He ran his finger

down the grades… he had passed well in Transfiguration and

Herbology, he had even exceeded expectations at Potions! And best of

all, he had achieved "Outstanding" at Defense Against the Dark Arts!

"That one was a given though," said Hermione.

He looked around. Hermione had her back to him and her head bent,

but Ron was looking delighted.

"Only failed Divination and History of Magic, and who cares about

them?" he said happily to Harry. "Here… swap…"

"They are quite respectable results, by no mean the best possible, but

definitely above average," said Minerva.

Harry glanced down Ron's grades: There were no "Outstandings"

there…

"Knew you'd be top at Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Ron,

punching Harry on the shoulder. "We've done all right, haven't we?"

"Well done!" said Mrs. Weasley proudly, ruffling Ron's hair. "Seven

OWLs, that's more than Fred and George got together!"

"More by choice than necessity," pointed out Sirius, "though I suppose that

is one way that you can get around having people force you to do more

subjects than you want."

"Hermione?" said Ginny tentatively, for Hermione still hadn't turned

around. "How did you do?"

"I — not bad," said Hermione in a small voice.

"Oh, come off it," said Ron, striding over to her and whipping her

results out of her hand. "Yep… ten 'Outstandings' and one 'Exceeds

Expectations' at Defensc Against the Dark Arts." He looked down at

her, half-amused, half-exasperated. "You're actually disappointed,

aren't you?"

A few people gave her a round of applause.

"Congratulations Hermione," said Lily.

"I still beat you," whispered Regulus to her, to which she promptly swatted

him over the back of the head.

Hermione shook her head, but Harry laughed.

"Well, we're N.E.W.T. students now!" grinned Ron. "Mum, are there

any more sausages?"

Hermione smiled at the typical Ron response, nothing was more important

than food, she really missed him and his eccentricities, you don't realise

how much you miss the little things until they are gone and you are in a

different time period where they haven't been born yet.

Harry looked back down at his results. They were as good as he could

have hoped for. He felt just one tiny twinge of regret… This was the

end of his ambition to become an Auror. He had not secured the

required Potions grade. He had known all along that he wouldn't, but

he still felt a sinking in his stomach as he looked again at that small

black E.

"Don't worry," said James bracingly, "Sluggy will let him in no worries,

even if just for the joy of teaching him."

It was odd, really, seeing that it had been a Death Eater in disguise who

had first told Harry he would make a good Auror, but somehow the

idea had taken hold of him, and he couldn't really think of anything

else he would like to be. Moreover, it had seemed the right destiny for

him since he had heard the prophecy a few weeks ago… Neither can

live while the other survives… Wouldn't he be living up to the

prophecy, and giving himself the best chance of survival, if he joined

those highly trained wizards whose job it was to find and kill

Voldemort?

"That is good logic," admitted Remus.

"And that dear wolf-man, is the end of the chapter," said Alice closing the

book.

"Perhaps we should have another short break before the next chapter, as the

need to stretch our legs seems to be becoming overwhelming," said

Dumbledore. Everyone agreed and got up and had a bit of a break, with a

walk, talk and chance to have a brief change of scenery, before sitting back

down and having Lily take over the reins.

AN: Thanks for reading, please review! Cheers!

6. Chapter 6

Draco's Detour

AN: Hello all... I AM BACK! Which means I am back to writing and

updating. Sorry about the wait, but that is life. Here is the next chapter, I

hope you all enjoy it. Thanks heaps to everyone who has reviewed I have

really appreciated some of the feedback that I have been recieving, I'm

sorry if I didn't reply but holidays tend to do that to you. I hope you all

enjoy this next installment. As per usual I own nothing which you can

recognise, that belongs to JK Rowling and others. Happy reading! Cheers!

"I guess this means it is my turn to read," said Lily picking up the book,

"the chapter looks intriguing, it is called Draco's Detour."

"Wow, ferret-face must be special if he gets his own chapter, perhaps we

will learn the real reason why Harry has so many relationship problems

with girls," said Alice happily, a few people nodded along having not really

been listening, but the reaction of those who were paying attention was

rather spectacular, several people yelped at the implication, Hermione spat

out the water she was drinking all over the table, before bursting out

laughing at the absurdity of the idea.

"Alice Smith," said Lily, "I don't know what on earth goes on in that weird

head of yours, but I would appreciate if you left the ridiculous comments

about my son's love life out of your choice of conversation topics, it is bad

enough you try and make my boyfriend gay, but my son..."

"Well Smith isn't really providing much of an endorsement to the virtues of

femineity," pointed out Remus.

"What are you going on about?" asked Sirius tuning into the conversation.

"Weren't you listening?" asked Hermione between chuckles.

"As a general rule, I don't listen to Smith when she opens her mouth as the

majority of what she says is utter rubbish," replied Sirius, "what I am more

interested in is what happens next in young Harry's adventures. By and by

Evans, that was your cue to keep reading."

Harry remained within the confines of the Burrow's garden over the

next few weeks. He spent most of his days playing two-a-side Quidditch

in the Weasleys' orchard (he and Hermione against Ron and Ginny;

Hermione was dreadful and Ginny good, so they were reasonably well

matched) and his evenings eating triple helpings of everything Mrs.

Weasley put in front of him.

It would have been a happy, peaceful holiday had it not been for the

stones of disappearances, odd accidents, even of deaths now appearing

almost daily in the Prophet. Sometimes Bill and Mr. Weasley brought

home news before it even reached the paper. To Mrs. Weasley's

displeasure, Harry's sixteenth birthday celebrations were marred by

grisly tidings brought to the party by Remus Lupin, who was looking

gaunt and grim, his brown hair streaked liberally with gray, his clothes

more ragged and patched than ever.

"Apparantly Voldies return isn't agreeing with him," observed Sirius, "I'm

guessing you are utilising the advantages of your furry problem."

"I unfortunately figured that is a possibility as well," said Remus, "it isn't

one I am thrilled about honestly, but someone probably has to do it."

"What exactly?" asked Frank suspiciously.

"Undercover in the werewolves or order rep in the werewolves," said James

grimly, "probably not the future we had in mind for old Moony here."

"There have been another couple of dementor attacks," he announced,

as Mrs. Weasley passed him a large slice of birthday cake. "And

they've found Igor Karkaroff's body in a shack up north. The Dark

Mark had been set over it… well, frankly, I'm surprised he stayed alive

for even a year after deserting the Death Eaters; Sirius's brother,

Regulus, only managed a few days as far as I can remember."

"That's nice," said Regulus, "at least I am mentioned in one sentence so far,

I wonder if we can beat last books record of two sentences about me, or is

that just being foolishly optimistic?"

"If Sirius didn't find out about the death until he escaped, how would Lupin

know how long Black had before he karked it?" asked Frank.

"I think," said Hermione, "That Snape would have been able to tell the

order when Regulus defected or at least deserted, and the tapestry would tell

everyone else when he died, put both together, hey-presto..."

"Yes, well," said Mrs. Weasley, frowning, "perhaps we should talk

about something diff…"

"Did you hear about Florean Fortescue, Remus?" asked Bill, who was

being plied with wine by Fleur. "The man who ran…"

"Is the ice-cream place in Diagon Alley?" Harry interrupted, with an

unpleasant, hollow sensation in the pit of his stomach. "He used to give

me free ice creams. What's happened to him?"

"Dragged off, by the look of his place."

"Why?" asked Ron, while Mrs. Weasley pointedly glared at Bill.

"Who knows? He must've upset them somehow. He was a good man,

Florean."

"Living in the alley, he would probably know a lot of information about

what is going on, he could have witnessed something or known too much,

or been a resource they want to use," said Regulus.

"Florean was also very sharp and observant," said Albus, "he would be a

huge asset, or liability if he found out something."

"Talking of Diagon Alley," said Mr. Weasley, "looks like Ollivander's

gone too."

"The wandmaker?" said Ginny, looking startled.

"That's the one. Shop's empty. No sign of a struggle. No one knows

whether he left voluntarily or was kidnapped."

"I'd say the latter," said Sirius, "a wandmaker would definitely be an asset,

particularly considering the odd behaviour between Harry and Tommy boy's

wands."

"As well as the fact that several key members are probably have had their

wands snapped when they went to Azkaban and I doubt that someone like

Dolohov could waltz down Diagon Ally to buy a new one after the

inevitable escape," said Severus grimly.

"We can't be sure that they will break out though, Sev," reminded Lily.

"Well considering the Dark Lord has done it once, he can do it again, what's

more the dementors are clearly no longer under ministry authority so that is

most of the protection done away with, it is probably only a matter of time,"

replied Severus.

"But what'll people do for wands?"

"They'll make do with other makers," said Lupin. "But Ollivander was

the best, and if the other side have got him it's not so good for us."

The day after this rather gloomy birthday tea, their letters and

booklists arrived from Hogwarts. Harry's included a surprise: he had

been made Quidditch Captain.

"Good work!" crowed James, "my son is quidditch captian!"

"He gets that from you, both the insane quidditch skills and knack for

leadership," said Lily proudly, although she preferred academic

achievement, she was still thrilled for her son and his success and obvious

talent, and also for the further connection it helped forge between Harry and

James, it helped make the fact that it was their son real.

"That gives you equal status with prefects!" cried Hermione happily.

"You can use our special bathroom now and everything!"

"Wow, I remember when Charlie wore one of these," said Ron,

examining the badge with glee. "Harry, this is so cool, you're my

Captain… if you let me back on the team, I suppose, ha ha…"

"Well, I don't suppose we can put off a trip to Diagon Alley much

longer now you've got these," sighed Mrs. Weasley, looking down Ron's

booklist. "We'll go on Saturday as long as your father doesn't have to

go into work again. I'm not going there without him."

"Mum, d'you honestly think You-Know-Who's going to be hiding

behind a bookshelf in Flourish and Blotts?" sniggered Ron.

"Probably not the best thing to joke about, considering the present climate

and the involvement in the order," said Minerva sternly.

"Fortescue and Ollivander went on holiday, did they?" said Mrs.

Weasley, firing up at once. "If you think security's a laughing matter

you can stay behind and I'll get your things myself…"

"No, I wanna come, I want to see Fred and George's shop!" said Ron

hastily.

"Then you just buck up your ideas, young man, before I decide you're

too immature to come with us!" said Mrs. Weasley angrily, snatching

up her clock, all nine hands of which were still pointing at "mortal

peril," and balancing it on top of a pile of just-laundered towels. "And

that goes for returning to Hogwarts as well!"

"Someone is tense," remarked Remus dryly.

"It's not like she doesn't have reason to be stressed though," pointed out

Lily, "she must have a lot on her plate, what with the order, the danger, her

children and a wedding on the horizon."

"By the sounds of it she is hoping that the wedding will be scratched off the

list," sneered Severus.

Hermione opened her mouth to defend Molly, but she closed it, she knew

that there was no point for a few reasons, one Molly was indeed less than

thrilled to have Fleur in the family at this point, two most people in the

room tended to employ sarcastic remarks, which meant that most of what

they commented on regarding people's characters and actions, particularly

when nothing major was happening, should be taken as a grain of salt.

Ron turned to stare incredulously at Harry as his mother hoisted the

laundry basket and the teetering clock into her arms and stormed out

of the room.

"Blimey… you can't even make a joke round here anymore…"

But Ron was careful not to be flippant about Voldemort over the next

few days. Saturday dawned without any more outbursts from Mrs.

Weasley, though she seemed very tense at breakfast. Bill, who would be

staying at home with Fleur (much to Hermione and Ginny's pleasure),

passed a full money bag across the table to Harry.

"Where's mine?" demanded Ron at once, his eyes wide.

"That's already Harry's, idiot," said Bill. "I got it out of your vault for

you, Harry, because it's taking about five hours for the public to get to

their gold at the moment, the goblins have tightened security so much.

Two days ago Arkie Philpott had a Probity Probe stuck up his… Well,

trust me, this way's easier."

"Yeah," said James, "I think I prefer that way as well, probity probes hurt."

"How do you know that?" asked Hermione curiously.

"Let's just say, I have ticked off Filch a few too many times, so he decided

that I looked like I was smuggling something in to the castle last year."

"Were you smuggling something into the castle last year?" asked Hermione

pointedly.

"That Mie, is beside the point," said James with a grin on his face.

"Thanks, Bill," said Harry, pocketing his gold.

"E is always so thoughtful," purred Fleur adoringly, stroking Bill's

nose. Ginny mimed vomiting into her cereal behind Fleur. Harry

choked over his cornflakes, and Ron thumped him on the back.

It was an overcast, murky day. One of the special Ministry of Magic

cars, in which Harry had ridden once before, was awaiting them in the

front yard when they emerged from the house, pulling on their cloaks.

"It's good Dad can get us these again," said Ron appreciatively,

stretching luxuriously as the car moved smoothly away from the

Burrow, Bill and Fleur waving from the kitchen window. He, Harry,

Hermione, and Ginny were all sitting in roomy comfort in the wide

backseat.

"Don't get used to it, it's only because of Harry," said Mr. Weasley over

his shoulder.

He and Mrs. Weasley were in front with the Ministry driver; the front

passenger seat had obligingly stretched into what resembled a two-

seater sofa. "He's been given top-grade security status. And we'll be

joining up with additional security at the Leaky Cauldron too."

Harry said nothing; he did not much fancy doing his shopping while

surrounded by a battalion of Aurors. He had stowed his Invisibility

Cloak in his backpack and felt that, if that was good enough for

Dumbledore, it ought to be good enough for the Ministry, though now

he came to think of it, he was not sure the Ministry knew about his

cloak.

"I doubt it," said James, "Potter family heirloom, technically no one without

the last name Potter is meant to know about it."

"Well that failed spectacularly on your behalf then," pointed out Severus.

"Here you are, then," said the driver, a surprisingly short while later,

speaking for the first time as he slowed in Charing Cross Road and

stopped outside the Leaky Cauldron. "I'm to wait for you, any idea

how long you'll be?"

"A couple of hours, I expect," said Mr. Weasley. "Ah, good, he's here!"

Harry imitated Mr. Weasley and peered through the window; his heart

leapt. There were no Aurors waiting outside the inn, but instead the

gigantic, black-bearded form of Rubeus Hagrid, the Hogwarts

gamekeeper, wearing a long beaverskin coat, beaming at the sight of

Harry's face and oblivious to the startled stares of passing Muggles.

"Hagrid is the security!" said James, "that is awesome."

"He's probably ideal," said Remus, "because he is loyal, but won't be

completely overbearing, as well as having giant blood most curses will

bounce right off him."

"Harry!" he boomed, sweeping Harry into a bone-crushing hug the

moment Harry had stepped out of the car. "Buckbeak… Witherwings,

I mean… yeh should see him, Harry, he's so happy ter be back in the

open air… I know, jus' like old times, innit? See, the Ministry wanted

ter send a bunch o' Aurors,

"A bunch or aurors, or a bunch of ministry sycophants who would try and

convince Harry to become poster boy or pawn, they are probably part of

what Pup needs to be protected from," said Sirius.

but Dumbledore said I'd do," said Hagrid proudly, throwing out his

chest and tucking his thumbs into his pockets. "Lets get goin' then…

after yeh, Molly, Arthur…"

The Leaky Cauldron was, for the first time in Harry's memory,

completely empty. Only Tom the landlord, wizened and toothless,

remained of the old crowd. He looked up hopefully as they entered, but

before he could speak, Hagrid said importantly, "Jus' passin' through

today, Tom, sure yeh understand, Hogwarts business, yeh know."

Tom nodded gloomily and returned to wiping glasses; Harry,

Hermione, Hagrid, and the Weasleys walked through the bar and out

into the chilly little courtyard at the back where the dustbins stood.

Hagrid raised his pink umbrella and rapped a certain brick in the wall,

which opened at once to form an archway onto a winding cobbled

street. They stepped through the entrance and paused, looking around.

Diagon Alley had changed. The colourful, glittering window displays of

spellbooks, potion ingredients, and cauldrons were lost to view, hidden

behind the large Ministry of Magic posters that had been pasted over

them.

"It is a bit like that now, there are notice boards and wanted posters

everywhere, but there is still the hustle of daily life, I guess because the

threat is so new at the moment it is going for shock value, hopefully the

alley will regain some of its life soon enough," commented Frank.

Most of these sombre purple posters carried blown-up versions of the

security advice on the Ministry pamphlets that had been sent out over

the summer, but others bore moving black-and-white photographs of

Death Eaters known to be on the loose. Bellatrix Lestrange was

sneering from the front of the nearest apothecary. A few windows were

boarded up, including those of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor.

On the other hand, a number of shabby-looking stalls had sprung up

along the street. The nearest one, which had been erected outside

Flourish and Blotts, under a striped, stained awning, had a cardboard

sign pinned to its front:

AMULETS

Effective Against Werewolves, Dementors, and Inferi!

Remus snorted, you would need more than an amulet to stop a werewolf.

A seedy-looking little wizard was rattling armfuls of silver symbols on

chains at passersby.

"One for your little girl, madam?" he called at Mrs. Weasley as they

passed, leering at Ginny. "Protect her pretty neck?"

"If I were on duty…" said Mr. Weasley, glaring angrily at the amulet

seller.

"Yes, but don't go arresting anyone now, dear, we're in a hurry," said

Mrs. Weasley, nervously consulting a list. "I think we'd better do

Madam Malkin's first, Hermione wants new dress robes, and Ron's

showing much too much ankle in his school robes, and you must need

new ones too, Harry, you've grown so much… come on, everyone…"

"Molly, it doesn't make sense for all of us to go to Madam Malkin's,"

said Mr. Weasley. "Why don't those three go with Hagrid, and we can

go to Flourish and Blotts and get everyone's school-books?"

"I don't know," said Mrs. Weasley anxiously, clearly torn between a

desire to finish the shopping quickly and the wish to stick together in a

pack. "Hagrid, do you think —?"

"Don't fret, they'll be fine with me, Molly," said Hagrid soothingly,

waving an airy hand the size of a dustbin lid. Mrs. Weasley did not look

entirely convinced, but allowed the separation, scurrying off toward

Flourish and Blotts with her husband and Ginny while Harry, Ron,

Hermione, and Hagrid set off for Madam Malkin's.

Harry noticed that many of the people who passed them had the same

harried, anxious look as Mrs. Weasley, and that nobody was stopping

to talk anymore; the shoppers stayed together in their own tightly knit

groups, moving intently about their business. Nobody seemed to be

shopping alone.

"Fear," surmised Alice succinctly.

"Migh' be a bit of a squeeze in there with all of us," said Hagrid,

stopping outside Madam Malkin's and bending down to peer through

the window. "I'll stand guard outside, all right?"

So Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the little shop together. It

appeared, at first glance, to be empty, but no sooner had the door

swung shut behind them than they heard a familiar voice issuing from

behind a rack of dress robes in spangled green and blue.

"… not a child, in case you haven't noticed, Mother. I am perfectly

capable of doing my shopping alone."

"Someone's got a broomstick stuck up their arse," observed James.

"It is probably our cousin," added Sirius

There was a clucking noise and a voice Harry recognized as that of

Madam Malkin, the owner, said, "Now, dear, your mother's quite right,

none of us is supposed to go wandering around on our own anymore,

it's nothing to do with being a child…"

"Watch where you're sticking that pin, will you!"

A teenage boy with a pale, pointed face and white-blond hair appeared

from behind the rack, wearing a handsome set of dark green robes that

glittered with pins around the hem and the edges of the sleeves. He

strode to the mirror and examined himself; it was a few moments

before he noticed Harry, Ron, and Hermione reflected over his

shoulder. His light gray eyes narrowed.

"If you're wondering what the smell is, Mother, a Mudblood just

walked in," said Draco Malfoy.

"Seems someone is feeling particularly vile this morning," observed Alice.

"The nerve of that boy!" said James, "how dare he say that!"

"I don't think there's any need for language like that!" said Madam

Malkin, scurrying out from behind the clothes rack holding a tape

measure and a wand. "And I don't want wands drawn in my shop

either!" she added hastily, for a glance toward the door had shown her

Harry and Ron both standing there with their wands out and pointing

at Malfoy. Hermione, who was standing slightly behind them,

whispered, "No, don't, honestly, it's not worth it. "

"Yeah, like you'd dare do magic out of school," sneered Malfoy.

"Who needs magic anyway?" asked Sirius, "when venting frustration,

throwing punches is rather invigorating, it gives you a sense of achievement

when you give someone a black-eye, knowing it was your personal

handiwork."

"I'm going to pretend you never said that, Mr Black," said Minerva, no

longer bothering to reprimand him, it would have been a waste of breath

anyway.

"Who blacked your eye, Granger? I want to send them flowers."

"I didn't know he felt that way about the Weasley twins," said Alice, "poor

Harry must be heartbroken."

Lily rolled her eyes, pulled out her wand, flicked it silently, Alice bent

down to grab her feet and yelp in pain as her toenails grew rapidly within

her warm winter boots, unfortunately all that came out was a loud QUACK.

Which inevitably caused everyone to laugh. In a moment of sudden

inspiration Hermione pulled out her wand and conjured a Mrs Longbottom-

esque hat, but instead of having a stuffed vulture on top, there was a huge

duck, to match Alice's new voice.

"I told you Ali, not to do that again! If you imply that about our son again I

will hex you to China and have rabid pandas attack you and your pyjamas!"

said Lily.

"By the way, nice hat," said Frank, seeing the resemblance between his

girlfriend and his mother.

"It was for the mental images," said Hermione with a shrug.

"That's quite enough!" said Madam Malkin sharply, looking over her

shoulder for support. "Madam, please!"

Narcissa Malfoy strolled out from behind the clothes rack.

"Put those away," she said coldly to Harry and Ron. "If you attack my

son again, I shall ensure that it is the last thing you ever do."

"Cissa can be rather overprotective, probably worse now that her family's

livelihood depends on her son's ability to complete a certain unnamed task,"

said Regulus.

"That makes her so much more fun to bait though," said Sirius.

"Really?" said Harry, taking a step forward and gazing into the

smoothly arrogant face that, for all its pallor, still resembled her

sister's. He was as tall as she was now. "Going to get a few Death Eater

pals to do us in, are you?"

Madam Malkin squealed and clutched at her heart.

"Really, you shouldn't accuse… dangerous thing to say… wands away,

please!"

But Harry did not lower his wand. Narcissa Malfoy smiled

unpleasantly.

"I see that being Dumbledore's favourite has given you a false sense of

security, Harry Potter. But Dumbledore won't always be there to

protect you."

Dumbledore in the room raised an eyebrow, that was an interesting and

rather loaded commented, and supported the theory which was weaving

itself in his head.

Harry looked mockingly all around the shop. "Wow… look at that…

he's not here now! So why not have a go? They might be able to find

you a double cell in Azkaban with your loser of a husband!"

"The kid has guts, I'll give him that," said Sirius, looking oddly proud of his

godson for baiting Cissa, he had a feeling that comment would be rather

effective.

Malfoy made an angry movement toward Harry, but stumbled over his

overlong robe. Ron laughed loudly.

"Don't you dare talk to my mother like that, Potter!" Malfoy snarled.

"It's all right, Draco," said Narcissa, restraining him with her thin

white fingers upon his shoulder. "I expect Potter will be reunited with

dear Sirius before I am reunited with Lucius."

"Ouch," winced Remus, "that was harsh!"

"How dare she say that to my son!" said an indignant James.

Harry raised his wand higher.

"Harry, no!" moaned Hermione, grabbing his arm and attempting to

push it down by his side. "Think… You mustn't… You'll be in such

trouble…"

Madam Malkin dithered for a moment on the spot, then seemed to

decide to act as though nothing was happening in the hope that it

wouldn't. She bent toward Malfoy, who was still glaring at Harry.

"I think this left sleeve could come up a little bit more, dear, let me

just…"

"Ouch!" bellowed Malfoy, slapping her hand away. "Watch where

you're putting your pins, woman! Mother, I don't think I want these

anymore."

"Well that is rather telling," said Regulus, "he was probably marked within

about a month, because that accursed tattoo hurts to touch for about a

month after, though it is still tender for a bit longer."

Hermione flushed slightly, she felt bad that she didn't believe or give

credence to Harry's suspicions, she should know by now not to doubt his

gut. Come to think of it there was a lot of her behaviour this school year

that she was not entirely pleased with.

He pulled the robes over his head and threw them onto the floor at

Madam Malkin's feet.

"You're right, Draco," said Narcissa, with a contemptuous glance at

Hermione, "now I know the kind of scum that shops here… We'll do

better at Twilfitt and Tatting's."

And with that, the pair of them strode out of the shop, Malfoy taking

care to bang as hard as he could into Ron on the way out.

"Well, really?" said Madam Malkin, snatching up the fallen robes and

moving the tip of her wand over them like a vacuum cleaner, so that it

removed all the dust.

She was distracted all through the fitting of Ron's and Harry's new

robes, tried to sell Hermione wizard's dress robes instead of witch's,

and when she finally bowed them out of the shop it was with an air of

being glad to see the back of them.

"Got ev'rything?" asked Hagrid brightly when they reappeared at his

side.

"Just about," said Harry. "Did you see the Malfoys?"

"Yeah," said Hagrid, unconcerned. "Bu they wouldn' dare make

trouble in the middle o' Diagon Alley, Harry. Don' worry about them."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged looks, but before they could

disabuse Hagrid of this comfortable notion, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and

Ginny appeared, all clutching heavy packages of books.

"Everyone all right?" said Mrs. Weasley. "Got your robes? Right then,

we can pop in at the Apothecary and Eeylops on the way to Fred and

George's… stick close, now…"

Neither Harry nor Ron bought any ingredients at the Apothecary,

seeing that they were no longer studying Potions,

"That they know of anyway," said Frank, "that will change soon."

but both bought large boxes of owl nuts for Hedwig and Pigwidgeon at

Eeylops Owl Emporium. Then, with Mrs. Weasley checking her watch

every minute or so, they headed farther along the street in search of

Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, the joke shop run by Fred and George.

"We really haven't got too long," Mrs. Weasley said. "So we'll just have

a quick look around and then back to the car. We must be close, that's

number ninety-two… ninety-four…"

"Whoa," said Ron, stopping in his tracks.

Set against the dull, poster-muffled shop Fronts around them, Fred and

Georges windows hit the eye like a firework display.

"Is that really all that unexpected?" asked James, "those two have a flair for

the dramatic."

Casual passersby were looking back over their shoulders at the

windows, and a few rather stunned-looking people had actually come to

a halt, transfixed. The left-hand window was dazzlingly full of an

assortment of goods that revolved, popped, flashed, bounced, and

shrieked; Harry's eyes began to water just looking at it. The right-hand

window was covered with a gigantic poster, purple like those of the

Ministry, but emblazoned with flashing yellow letters:

WHY ARE YOU WORRYING ABOUT

YOU-KNOW-WHO?

YOU SHOULD BE WORRYING ABOUT

U-NO-POO —

THE CONSTIPATION SENSATION

THAT'S GRIPPING THE NATION!

The product tagline caused rampant laughter to fill the room.

"That is bloody brilliant!" said James between fits of laughter.

"If that doesn't put them on Voldie's blacklist, I don't know what will," said

Sirius.

"I'm sure if they have a rather spectacular anti-burglar or alarm system in

place to deter any attacks or unwanted visitors, they would probably turn

the perpetrators into pink, hula-dancing chickens or something equally as

insane, but effective," added Remus logically.

"I really should have asked them about that," said Hermione, cursing herself

for not taking the opportunities to ask such questions, she had a feeling that

Remus probably wasn't too far off the mark with his assumption.

Harry started to laugh. He heard a weak sort of moan beside him and

looked around to see Mrs. Weasley gazing, dumbfounded, at the poster.

Her lips moved silently, mouthing the name "U-No-Poo."

"They'll be murdered in their beds!" she whispered.

"No they won't!" said Ron, who, like Harry, was laughing. "This is

brilliant!"

And he and Harry led the way into the shop. It was packed with

customers; Harry could not get near the shelves. He stared around,

looking up at the boxes piled to the ceiling: Here were the Skiving

Snackboxes that the twins had perfected during their last, unfinished

year at Hogwarts; Harry noticed that the Nosebleed Nougat was most

popular, with only one battered box left on the shelf.

"It's the least painful," said Remus knowledgably, "If you vomit too much

you get awful stomach cramps and sore abdominal muscles for days after,

and no one likes to have a fever, it can cause you to do things which

become blackmail fodder."

"You know, I don't even want to know how you know that," said Hermione

shaking her head.

There were bins full of trick wands, the cheapest merely turning into

rubber chickens or pairs of briefs when waved, the most expensive

beating the unwary user around the head and neck, and boxes of quills,

which came in Self-Inking, Spell-Checking, and Smart-Answer

varieties. A space cleared in the crowd, and Harry pushed his way

toward the counter, where a gaggle of delighted ten-year-olds was

watching a tiny little wooden man slowly ascending the steps to a real

set of gallows, both perched on a box that read: Reusable hangman -

spell it or he'll swing!

Hermione smiled proudly, "I gave them that idea! They asked me if there

were any muggle games or classroom distractions which they might be able

to adapt, hangman was always a childhood favourite of mine when I was in

primary school."

"'Patented Daydream Charms…'"

Hermione had managed to squeeze through to a large display near the

counter and was reading the information on the back of a box bearing

a highly colored picture of a handsome youth and a swooning girl who

were standing on the deck of a pirate ship.

"'One simple incantation and you will enter a top-quality, highly

realistic, thirty-minute daydream, easy to fit into the average school

lesson and virtually undetectable (side effects include vacant expression

and minor drooling). Not for sale to under-sixteens.' "You know," said

Hermione, looking up at Harry, "that really is extraordinary magic!"

"For that, Hermione," said a voice behind them, "you can have one for

free."

"Are they good?" asked Alice curiously, having recovered from her

quacking experience.

"How do you know I tried it?" asked Hermione innocently.

"The smirk on your face is one indicator," said Lily.

"They are truly brilliant magic... I used that one quidditch practice, which

the boys dragged me to, they are rather brilliant... realistic too," said

Hermione, "after I told them that, they sent me another for my birthday."

A beaming Fred stood before them, wearing a set of magenta robes that

clashed magnificently with his flaming hair.

"How are you, Harry?" They shook hands. "And what's happened to

your eye, Hermione?"

"Your punching telescope," she said ruefully.

"Oh blimey, I forgot about those," said Fred. "Here —"

He pulled a tub out of his pocket and handed it to her; she unscrewed it

gingerly to reveal a thick yellow paste.

"Just dab it on, that bruise'll be gone within the hour," said Fred. "We

had to find a decent bruise remover. We're testing most of our products

on ourselves."

Hermione looked nervous. "It is safe, isn't it?" she asked.

"I doubt they would tell you if it wasn't," said Remus.

"Course it is," said Fred bracingly. "Come on, Harry, I'll give you a

tour."

"Financier's benefits," guessed James, "that was probably a brilliant

investment, they get free joke materials whenever he needs them."

Harry left Hermione dabbing her black eye with paste and followed

Fred toward the back of the shop, where he saw a stand of card and

rope tricks.

"Muggle magic tricks!" said Fred happily, pointing them out. "For

freaks like Dad, you know, who love Muggle stuff. It's not a big earner,

but we do fairly steady business, they're great novelties… Oh, here's

George…"

Fred's twin shook Harry's hand energetically.

"Giving him the tour? Come through the back, Harry, that's where

we're making the real money… pocket anything, you, and you'll pay in

more than Galleons!" he added warningly to a small boy who hastily

whipped his hand out of the tub labelled EDIBLE DARK MARKS —

THEY'LL MAKE ANYONE SICK!

George pushed back a curtain beside the Muggle tricks and Harry saw

a darker, less crowded room. The packaging on the products lining

these shelves was more subdued.

"We've just developed this more serious line," said Fred. "Funny how it

happened…"

"You wouldn't believe how many people, even people who work at the

Ministry, can't do a decent Shield Charm," said George. "'Course, they

didn't have you teaching them, Harry."

Severus had a feeling about where this line of conversation was going and

began smirking.

"That's right… Well, we thought Shield Hats were a bit of a laugh, you

know, challenge your mate to jinx you while wearing it and watch his

face when the jinx just bounces off. But the Ministry bought five

hundred for all its support staff! And we're still getting massive

orders!"

Sirius burst out laughing, "that is brilliant, the ministry's safety and skill

level is truly a joke! What other government purchases their safety

equipment from a joke shop! Weasley Wizarding Wheezes keeping the

ministry safe since 1996."

He wasn't the only one who caught the irony as most of the other occupants

of the room were snorting, smirking or giggling as well.

"So we've expanded into a range of Shield Cloaks, Shield Gloves…"

"… I mean, they wouldn't help much against the Unforgivable Curses,

but for minor to moderate hexes or jinxes…"

"And then we thought we'd get into the whole area of Defense Against

the Dark Arts, because it's such a money spinner," continued George

enthusiastically. "This is cool. Look, Instant Darkness Powder, we're

importing it from Peru. Handy if you want to make a quick escape."

"And our Decoy Detonators are just walking off the shelves, look," said

Fred, pointing at a number of weird-looking black horn-type objects

that were indeed attempting to scurry out of sight. "You just drop one

surreptitiously and it'll run off and make a nice loud noise out of sight,

giving you a diversion if you need one.

"Brilliant!"

"Handy," said Harry, impressed.

"Here," said George, catching a couple and throwing them to Harry.

A young witch with short blonde hair poked her head around the

curtain; Harry saw that she too was wearing magenta staff robes.

"There's a customer out here looking for a joke cauldron, Mr. Weasley

and Mr. Weasley," she said.

"Wow, Mr Weasley..." commented Hermione, "that almost makes them

sound respectable... I never thought I would see the day!"

Harry found it very odd to hear Fred and George called "Mr.

Weasley," but they took it in their stride.

"Right you are, Verity, I'm coming," said George promptly. "Harry,

you help yourself to anything you want, all right? No charge."

"I can't do that!" said Harry, who had already pulled out his money

bag to pay for the Decoy Detonators.

"You don't pay here," said Fred firmly, waving away Harry's gold.

"But…"

"You gave us our start-up loan, we haven't forgotten," said George

sternly "Take whatever you like, and just remember to tell people

where you got it, if they ask."

George swept off through the curtain to help with the customers, and

Fred led Harry back into the main part of the shop to find Hermione

and Ginny still poring over the Patented Daydream Charms.

"Haven't you girls found our special WonderWitch products yet?"

asked Fred. "Follow me, ladies…"

Near the window was an array of violently pink products around which

a cluster of excited girls was giggling enthusiastically. Hermione and

Ginny both hung back, looking wary.

"There you go," said Fred proudly. "Best range of love potions you'll

find anywhere."

"Should they really sell those?" asked Lily.

"They aren't illegal," said James, "and when used correctly they can make

fairly awesome pranks."

"The potions the twins sold were rather obvious when they were in effect,

they were fairly exaggerated and were more commonly used for jokes and

revenge rather than malicious intent, although there were not quite so nice

instances when they were used as well," said Hermione, the last bit she said

with a frown, remembering the Romilda Vane debacle and how it resulted

in Ron almost dying by poison.

Ginny raised an eyebrow sceptically. "Do they work?" she asked.

"Certainly they work, for up to twenty-four hours at a time depending

on the weight of the boy in question…"

"So 24hrs so they really are more joke orientated, that isn't very long acting

for a love potion in anycase," observed Severus, "the more potent and

illegal types last for much longer periods of time and have lasting effects

usually."

"… and the attractiveness of the girl," said George, reappearing

suddenly at their side. "But we're not selling them to our sister," he

added, becoming suddenly stern, "not when she's already got about

five boys on the go from what we've…"

"Whatever you've heard from Ron is a big fat lie," said Ginny calmly,

leaning forward to take a small pink pot off the shelf.

"Yes the dear boy does seem prone to exaggeration," said Alice.

Hermione smiled, "although it annoys me to no end, it is truly part of his

charm and what makes him so... Ron, I suppose."

"What's this?"

"Guaranteed ten-second pimple vanisher," said Fred. "Excellent on

everything from boils to blackheads, but don't change the subject. Are

you or are you not currently going out with a boy called Dean

Thomas?"

"Yes, I am," said Ginny. "And last time I looked, he was definitely one

boy, not five. What are those?"

She was pointing at a number of round balls of fluff in shades of pink

and purple, all rolling around the bottom of a cage and emitting high-

pitched squeaks.

"Pygmy Puffs," said George. "Miniature puffskeins, we can't breed

them fast enough. So what about Michael Corner?"

"I dumped him, he was a bad loser," said Ginny, putting a finger

through the bars of the cage and watching the Pygmy Puffs crowd

around it. "They're really cute!"

"They're fairly cuddly, yes," conceded Fred. "But you're moving

through boyfriends a bit fast, aren't you?"

Ginny turned to look at him, her hands on her hips. There was such a

Mrs. Weasley-ish glare on her face that Harry was surprised Fred

didn't recoil.

"Like mother like daughter apparently."

"It's none of your business. And I'll thank you'' she added angrily to

Ron, who had just appeared at George's elbow, laden with

merchandise, "not to tell tales about me to these two!"

"That's three Galleons, nine Sickles, and a Knut," said Fred, examining

the many boxes in Ron's arms. "Cough up."

"I'm your brother!"

"And that's our stuff you're nicking. Three Galleons, nine Sickles. I'll

knock off the Knut."

"Considering the sheer number of Weasleys in the world, they probably

can't afford to do family discounts," commented Frank wryly.

"But I haven't got three Galleons, nine Sickles!"

"You'd better put it back then, and mind you put it on the right

shelves."

Ron dropped several boxes, swore, and made a rude hand gesture at

Fred that was unfortunately spotted by Mrs. Weasley, who had chosen

that moment to appear.

"If I see you do that again I'll jinx your fingers together," she said

sharply.

"Mum, can I have a Pygmy Puff?" said Ginny at once.

"A what?" said Mrs. Weasley warily.

"Look, they're so sweet…"

Mrs. Weasley moved aside to look at the Pygmy Puffs, and Harry, Ron,

and Hermione momentarily had an unimpeded view out of the window.

Draco Malfoy was hurrying up the street alone. As he passed Weasleys'

Wizard Wheezes, he glanced over his shoulder. Seconds later, he moved

beyond the scope of the window and they lost sight of him.

"Wonder where his mummy is?" said Harry, frowning.

"Given her the slip by the looks of it," said Ron.

"Why, though?" said Hermione.

"I have a feeling about where this is going to go," said Regulus nudging

Hermione.

Harry said nothing; he was thinking too hard. Narcissa Malfoy would

not have let her precious son out of her sight willingly; Malfoy must

have made a real effort to free himself from her clutches. Harry,

knowing and loathing Malfoy, was sure the reason could not be

innocent.

He glanced around. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were bending over the

Pygmy Puffs. Mr. Weasley was delightedly examining a pack of Muggle

marked playing cards. Fred and George were both helping customers.

On the other side of the glass, Hagrid was standing with his back to

them, looking up and down the street.

"Get under here, quick," said Harry, pulling his Invisibility Cloak out

of his bag.

"Oh — I don't know, Harry," said Hermione, looking uncertainly

toward Mrs. Weasley.

"Was that real or token resistance?" asked Sirius with a smile.

"Come on," said Ron.

She hesitated for a second longer, then ducked under the cloak with

Harry and Ron.

"Definitely token, you probably wanted to go as much as the others, if you

truly didn't want to be there I doubt hell or highwater could force you do to

go, or do anything you didn't want to do," said Regulus with a smirk on his

face, nudging Hermione gently in the ribs.

"Are you calling me stubborn Mr Black?" asked Hermione with a grin and

raised eyebrow.

"Yes."

Nobody noticed them vanish; they were all too interested in Fred and

George's products. Harry, Ron, and Hermione squeezed their way out

of the door as quickly as they could, but by the time they gained the

street, Malfoy had disappeared just as successfully as they had.

"He was going in that direction," murmured Harry as quietly as

possible, so that the humming Hagrid would not hear them. "C'mon."

They scurried along, peering left and right, through shop windows and

doors, until Hermione pointed ahead.

"That's him, isn't it?" she whispered. "Turning left?"

"Big surprise," whispered Ron.

For Malfoy had glanced around, then slid into Knockturn Alley and

out of sight.

"Quick, or we'll lose him," said Harry, speeding up.

"Our feet'll be seen!" said Hermione anxiously, as the cloak flapped a

little around their ankles; it was much more difficult hiding all three of

them under the cloak nowadays.

"It doesn't matter," said Harry impatiently. "Just hurry!"

But Knockturn Alley, the side street devoted to the Dark Arts, looked

completely deserted. They peered into windows as they passed, but

none of the shops seemed to have any customers at all. Harry supposed

it was a bit of a giveaway in these dangerous and suspicious times to

buy Dark artifacts — or at least, to be seen buying them.

Hermione gave his arm a hard pinch.

"Ouch!"

"Shh! Look! He's in there!" she breathed in Harry's ear.

They had drawn level with the only shop in Knockturn Alley that

Harry had ever visited, Borgin and Burkes, which sold a wide variety

of sinister objects. There in the midst of the cases full of skulls and old

bottles stood Draco Malfoy with his back to them, just visible beyond

the very same large black cabinet in which Harry had once hidden to

avoid Malfoy and his father.

Hermione grimaced, of course they talked about the cabinet, not what was

near it! How could they have been so stupid, if anyone else in the room

guessed before the end she would be supremely annoyed with herself.

Judging by the movements of Malfoy's hands, he was talking

animatedly. The proprietor of the shop, Mr. Borgin, an oily-haired,

stooping man, stood facing Malfoy. He was wearing a curious

expression of mingled resentment and fear.

"If only we could hear what they're saying!" said Hermione.

"We can!" said Ron excitedly. "Hang on, damn."

He dropped a couple more of the boxes he was still clutching as he

fumbled with the largest.

"Extendable Ears, look!"

"Fantastic!" said Hermione, as Ron unravelled the long, flesh-coloured

strings and began to feed them toward the bottom of the door. "Oh, I

hope the door isn't Imperturbable…"

"No!" said Ron gleefully. "Listen!"

They put their heads together and listened intently to the ends of the

strings, through which Malfoy's voice could be heard loud and clear, as

though a radio had been turned on.

"… you know how to fix it?"

"Possibly," said Borgin, in a tone that suggested he was unwilling to

commit himself. "I'll need to see it, though. Why don't you bring it into

the shop?"

"I can't," said Malfoy. "It's got to stay put. I just need you to tell me

how to do it."

Harry saw Borgin lick his lips nervously.

"Well, without seeing it, I must say it will be a very difficult job,

perhaps impossible. I couldn't guarantee anything."

"No?" said Malfoy, and Harry knew, just by his tone, that Malfoy was

sneering. "Perhaps this will make you more confident."

He moved toward Borgin and was blocked from view by the cabinet.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione shuffled sideways to try and keep him in

sight, but all they could see was Borgin, looking very frightened.

"What did he show him?" asked Remus suspiciously.

Regulus absentmindedly rubbed his right hand over his left forearm, "I

think I have a fair idea."

"Tell anyone," said Malfoy, "and there will be retribution. You know

Fenrir Greyback? He's a family friend. He'll be dropping in from time

to time to make sure you're giving the problem your full attention."

Remus let out a low growl, an automatic response to the animal who had

maliciously inflicted with the curse. Sirius and James also scowled at the

name of the thing who was responsible for harming their best friend.

Hermione let out a shiver of disgust, her memories of Fenrir Greyback were

not pleasant to say the least, in actuality they were the cause of many of her

nightmares.

"I'm guessing no one here is a fan of Fenrir Greyback," said Frank,

observing the reactions of the room.

"Who is Fenrir Greyback?" asked Lily, "I have never heard of him."

"Lucky you," said Hermione darkly, "Fenrir Greyback," she spat the name

like it was the deadliest poison, "is a loathsome, vile, sadistic thing,

undeserving of any title, who takes pleasure in torturing other human

beings, particularly children and inflicting them with lycantropathy, one

example being Remus, and generally trying to make their lives a living

hell."

"That pretty much sums it up," said Sirius grimly, "apparently he isn't one

of your favourite people either."

"He's definitely in the bottom three alongside Voldemort, sorry Regulus,

and your delightful cousin," sneered Hermione. The mention of anything

which related directly back to Hermione's sojourn at Malfoy Manor and

torture at the hands of Bellatrix and to a lesser extent Fenrir Greyback, was

guaranteed to transform the time-traveller into a foul, hysterical and

sometimes violent mood, as she tried to suppress the bad memories.

Fortunately the transformation was more than evident to the members of the

room, so in response Regulus awkwardly put his arm around Hermione and

gave her a bit of a hug, in order to try and calm her down.

"So he's an evil werewolf," surmised Lily, finding the answer to her

question.

"There will be no need for…"

"I'll decide that," said Malfoy. "Well, I'd better be off. And don't forget

to keep that one safe, I'll need it."

"Perhaps you'd like to take it now?"

"No, of course I wouldn't, you stupid, little man, how would I look

carrying that down the street? Just don't sell it."

"Of course not… sir."

Borgin made a bow as deep as the one Harry had once seen him give

Lucius Malfoy.

"Not a word to anyone, Borgin, and that includes my mother,

understand?"

"Naturally, naturally," murmured Borgin, bowing again.

Next moment, the bell over the door tinkled loudly as Malfoy stalked

out of the shop looking very pleased with himself. He passed so close to

Harry, Ron, and Hermione that they felt the cloak flutter around their

knees again. Inside the shop, Borgin remained frozen; his unctuous

smile had vanished; he looked worried.

"That probably isn't a very good sign."

"What was that about?" whispered Ron, reeling in the Extendable

Ears.

"Dunno," said Harry, thinking hard. "He wants something mended…

and he wants to reserve something in there… Could you see what he

pointed at when he said 'that one'?"

"No, he was behind that cabinet…"

Hermione felt like putting her head in her hands at that statement, it wasn't

behind the cabinet, it was the cabinet!

"You two stay here," whispered Hermione.

"What are you…?"

But Hermione had already ducked out from under the cloak. She

checked her hair in the reflection in the glass, then marched into the

shop, setting the bell tinkling again. Ron hastily fed the Extendable

Ears back under the door and passed one of the strings to Harry.

"This could be interesting," said James with a bit of a smirk.

"Who would you suggest going in? Ron who every man and his dog can

pick as a Weasley from 100 yards? Or Harry Potter, the most well

recognised teenager in magical Britain and who would create an instant

scandal if he was even seen near Knockturn Ally?" bit back Hermione

defensively, still tense from having to think about Lestrange and Greyback.

"Someone's PMSing, and it is not Moony," said James, "I wasn't trying to

insult you or anything Mie, if I did I'm sorry, you are definitely the best

choice to be in there."

Hermione took a deep breath, "Sorry James, I shouldn't have snapped at

you, but I warn you if you tell me that I am PMSing one more time I swear

I will set another flock of canaries on you."

"Hello, horrible morning, isn't it?" Hermione said brightly to Borgin,

who did not answer, but cast her a suspicious look. Humming cheerily,

Hermione strolled through the jumble of objects on display.

"Is this necklace for sale?" she asked, pausing beside a glass-fronted

case.

"If you've got one and a half thousand Galleons," said Mr. Borgin

coldly.

"Oh… er… no, I haven't got quite that much," said Hermione, walking

on. "And… what about this lovely… um… skull?"

"Sixteen Galleons."

"So it's for sale, then? It isn't being… kept for anyone?"

"Your subtlety is simply mind-blowing," drawled Severus sarcastically.

"Be nice Sev," scolded Lily with a smile at her friend.

Mr. Borgin squinted at her. Harry had the nasty feeling he knew

exactly what Hermione was up to. Apparently Hermione felt she had

been rumbled too because she suddenly threw caution to the winds.

"The thing is, that… er… boy who was in here just now, Draco Malfoy,

well, he's a friend of mine, and I want to get him a birthday present,

but if he's already reserved anything, I obviously don't want to get him

the same thing, so… um…"

"You aren't going to set a flock of canaries on me if I laugh will you?"

asked James.

Hermione shook her head, while blushing, it did sound truly horrible the

way she said it. She swore it sounded better in her head.

It was a pretty lame story in Harry's opinion, and apparently Borgin

thought so too.

"I wholeheartedly agree," said Remus, "sorry, Mie."

"Don't worry I am internally hanging my head in shame at saying it, so feel

free to laugh as necessary."

"Out," he said sharply. "Get out!"

Hermione did not wait to be asked twice, but hurried to the door with

Borgin at her heels. As the bell tinkled again, Borgin slammed the door

behind her and put up the closed sign.

"Ah well," said Ron, throwing the cloak back over Hermione. "Worth a

try, but you were a bit obvious…"

"No kidding."

"Well, next time you can show me how it's done, Master of Mystery!"

she snapped.

"He has less subtlety than I do, I can only imagine what he would have

said!" said Hermione defensively.

"I don't know, all three of you are pretty tactless at times," drawled Severus,

"that definitely was not one of your sharper moments."

Ron and Hermione bickered all the way back to Weasleys' Wizard

Wheezes, where they were forced to stop so that they could dodge

undetected around a very anxious-looking Mrs. Weasley and Hagrid,

who had clearly noticed their absence. Once in the shop, Harry

whipped off the Invisibility Cloak, hid it in his bag, and joined in with

the other two when they insisted, in answer to Mrs. Weasleys

accusations, that they had been in the back room all along, and that she

could not have looked properly.

"I wonder who fell for it?" wondered James, "if they raised the Weasley

twins they must know more than they let on sometimes."

"Probably less than it seemed at the time," agreed Hermione.

"That is the end of the chapter, would you like to read next James?" asked

Lily.

"Sure, but can we have another break after this so that we can have a snack,

I can hear Moony's belly rumbling from here."

"That is an excellent idea Mr Potter, as Albus and I need to make sure the

school is still standing in our absence," said Minerva, "so the quicker you

read the quicker we can finish. Tally ho."

AN: Thanks for reading, please review! Cheers!

7. Chapter 7

The Slug Club

AN: Here is another chapter for your amusement. I hope you all enjoy it. As

usual a big thank you to those who have reviewed, I appreciate it

immensely. As normal I own nothing which you recognise. Please enjoy the

humble manifestation of my imagination though. Cheers!

"You are going to love this chapter Paddy," announced James, "it is called

The Slug Club."

"Bleh," said Sirius.

"You don't like him?" asked Hermione.

"Don't get him started," advised Remus, "Our darling Padfoot dislikes being

commoditised by over-bearing and over-weight birds of prey."

"I would say walrus of prey, but let's not split hairs," said Hermione with a

shrug, she had a mixed opinion of Slughorn herself now or rather saw him

as embodying one of many shades of grey.

Harry spent a lot of the last week of the holidays pondering the

meaning of Malfoy's behaviour in Knockturn Alley. What disturbed

him most was the satisfied look on Malfoy's face as he had left the shop.

Nothing that made Malfoy look that happy could be good news.

To his slight annoyance, however, neither Ron nor Hermione seemed

quite as curious about Malfoy's activities as he was; or at least, they

seemed to get bored of discussing it after a few days.

"Yes, I've already agreed it was fishy, Harry," said Hermione a little

impatiently. She was sitting on the windowsill in Fred and George's

room with her feet up on one of the cardboard boxes and had only

grudgingly looked up from her new copy of Advanced Rune

Translation. "But haven't we agreed there could be a lot of

explanations?"

"I'm guessing interrupting reading or study time is a no-no," said Regulus.

"You bet!" said Hermione.

"He's like that as well," whispered Regulus to Hermione again, motioning

to Severus.

"I heard that."

"Maybe he's broken his Hand of Glory" said Ron vaguely, as he

attempted to straighten his broomstick's bent tail twigs. "Remember

that shriveled-up arm Malfoy had?"

"But what about when he said, 'Don't forget to keep that one safe'?"

asked Harry for the umpteenth time. "That sounded to me like

Borgin's got another one of the broken objects, and Malfoy wants

both."

It seemed that Harry was closer to the mark than anticipated, curse his

bloody good instincts!

"You reckon?" said Ron, now trying to scrape some dirt off his broom

handle.

"Yeah, I do," said Harry. When neither Ron nor Hermione answered,

he said, "Malfoy's father's in Azkaban. Don't you think Malfoy'd like

revenge?"

Ron looked up, blinking.

"Malfoy, revenge? What can he do about it?"

"A lot," murmured Hermione to herself.

"That's my point, I don't know!" said Harry, frustrated. "But he's up

to something and I think we should take it seriously. His father's a

Death Eater and…"

Harry broke off, his eyes fixed on the window behind Hermione, his

mouth open. A startling thought had just occurred to him.

"Harry?" said Hermione in an anxious voice. "What's wrong?"

"Your scar's not hurting again, is it?" asked Ron nervously.

"He's a Death Eater," said Harry slowly. "He's replaced his father as a

Death Eater!"

"He's good," said Regulus with a low whistle.

"You think he is correct?" asked Hermione challengingly, "how can you

know?"

"Why wouldn't he be?" challenged Regulus in return with a raised eyebrow,

he knew what most of the objections would be and that his presence in the

room disproved them all.

There was a silence; then Ron erupted in laughter. "Malfoy? He's

sixteen, Harry! You think You-Know-Who would let Malfoy join?"

"It seems very unlikely, Harry," said Hermione in a repressive sort of

voice.

Regulus cleared his throat for once drawing attention to the fact that he was

still sixteen years old, at school and a death eater, thus dispelling the power

of the argument.

"What makes you think —?"

"In Madam Malkin's. She didn't touch him, but he yelled and jerked

his arm away from her when she went to roll up his sleeve. It was his

left arm. He's been branded with the Dark Mark."

Ron and Hermione looked at each other.

"Well…" said Ron, sounding thoroughly unconvinced.

"I think he just wanted to get out of there, Harry," said Hermione.

"What did the look mean?" asked Remus.

"We weren't sure what state Harry was going to be in after Sirius' death,

letters can only convey so much, we were worried that he may have grasped

onto the 'Draco Malfoy conspiracy' as a way dealing with grief or as a

distraction," said Hermione cautiously, "Harry can tend to focus obsessively

on certain things, such as the hallway in the dreams in the previous years,

which is often detrimental. Unfortunately, and I regret to have thought this,

after the events at the end of the last year, although we in no way blame

Harry for what happened, Ron and I were both rather reticent to fully trust

his judgement. The events of the department of mysteries really brought

home just how high the stakes were if we were wrong."

"How do you feel about that now?" asked Frank looking at Hermione.

Hermione smiled weakly, "if I told you that, it might give away the ending."

"How would you describe Harry's behaviour this year?" asked Lily

curiously, looking out for the well-being of her son.

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip in thought, "from my impressions and

conclusions, I think Harry was caught in a tough spot and was having some

sort of... I don't know if it is the right word, but identity crisis. I think he

was having trouble reconciling the meaning of the prophecy and the future

to his life, which is something he sorely needed parental guidance from,

which made the loss of Sirius, and you and James as well, even more stark.

I think Harry was caught between his desire to be a normal teenage and do

normal teenage things, and this huge burden that he was going to be forced

to bear."

Lily shook her head sadly, she was truly upset that her son, or any child,

should be forced to carry Harry's burden. Little did she know just how hard

a burden defeating Voldemort was going to be.

"He showed Borgin something we couldn't see," Harry pressed on

stubbornly. "Something that seriously scared Borgin. It was the Mark,

I know it… he was showing Borgin who he was dealing with, you saw

how seriously Borgin took him!"

Ron and Hermione exchanged another look.

"I have a feeling that is going to happen a lot in this upcoming book," said

Sirius.

"I our defence, he wasn't actually meant to see them!" said Hermione with a

wry smile, "stupid observant prick."

"I'm not sure, Harry…"

"Yeah, I still don't reckon You-Know-Who would let Malfoy join…"

Annoyed, but absolutely convinced he was right, Harry snatched up a

pile of filthy Quidditch robes and left the room; Mrs. Weasley had been

urging them for days not to leave their washing and packing until the

last moment. On the landing he bumped into Ginny, who was returning

to her room carrying a pile of freshly laundered clothes.

"I wouldn't go in the kitchen just now," she warned him. "There's a lot

of Phlegm around."

"I'll be careful not to slip in it." Harry smiled.

Sure enough, when he entered the kitchen it was to find Fleur sitting at

the kitchen table, in full flow about plans for her wedding to Bill, while

Mrs. Weasley kept watch over a pile of self-peeling sprouts, looking

bad-tempered.

"… Bill and I 'ave almost decided on only two bridesmaids, Ginny and

Gabrielle will look very sweet togezzer. I am theenking of dressing zem

in pale gold, pink would of course be 'orrible with Ginny's 'air!"

Hermione giggled, she couldn't help her. Now she knew Fleur better she

appreciated her brutal honesty and bluntness. The statement about Ginny's

hair was such a classic example of Fleur's sometimes shocking candour

about everything.

"Ah, Harry!" said Mrs. Weasley loudly, cutting across Fleur's

monologue. "Good, I wanted to explain about the security

arrangements for the journey to Hogwarts tomorrow. We've got

Ministry cars again, and there will be Aurors waiting at the station."

"Is Tonks going to be there?" asked Harry, handing over his Quidditch

things.

"No, I don't think so, she's been stationed somewhere else from what

Arthur said."

"She has let 'erself go, zat Tonks," Fleur mused, examining her own

stunning reflection in the back of a teaspoon. "A big mistake if you

ask."

Sirius scowled, he didn't like people speaking ill of his little Nymphie.

Hermione saw and laughed.

"Unfortunately Fleur had a point," said Hermione, "Tonks had let herself

go, everyone thought so, Fleur though was one of the few that actually had

the guts to say it to her face as well."

"Yes, thank you," said Mrs. Weasley tartly, cutting across Fleur again.

"You'd better get on, Harry, I want the trunks ready tonight, if

possible, so we don't have the usual last-minute scramble."

And in fact, their departure the following morning was smoother than

usual. The Ministry cars glided up to the front of the Burrow to find

them waiting, trunks packed; Hermione's cat, Crookshanks, safely

enclosed in his travelling basket; and Hedwig; Ron's owl, Pigwidgeon;

and Ginny's new purple Pygmy Puff, Arnold, in cages.

"Au revoir, 'Arry," said Fleur throatily, kissing him good-bye. Ron

hurried forward, looking hopeful, but Ginny stuck out her foot and

Ron fell, sprawling in the dust at Fleur's feet. Furious, red-faced, and

dirt-spattered, he hurried into the car without saying good-bye.

"I think the kiss was a Harry special," said Frank, "as good a guy as Ron

undoubtedly is, I doubt he has the same relationship to Fleur as Harry, after

all he probably hasn't done much to recommend himself to her apart from

drool or look at her innumerable assets, which probably has the opposite

effect. Although it seems Ginny wasn't all too pleased with the kiss either.

Poor Ron for bearing the brunt of her annoyance."

There was no cheerful Hagrid waiting for them at King's Cross Station.

Instead, two grim-faced, bearded Aurors in dark Muggle suits moved

forward the moment the cars stopped and, flanking the party, marched

them into the station without speaking.

"Quick, quick, through the barrier," said Mrs. Weasley, who seemed a

little flustered by this austere efficiency. "Harry had better go first,

with…"

She looked inquiringly at one of the Aurors, who nodded briefly, seized

Harry's upper arm, and attempted to steer him toward the barrier

between platforms nine and ten.

"I can walk, thanks," said Harry irritably, jerking his arm out of the

Auror's grip. He pushed his trolley directly at the solid barrier,

ignoring his silent companion, and found himself, a second later,

standing on platform nine and three-quarters, where the scarlet

Hogwarts Express stood belching steam over the crowd.

Hermione and the Weasleys joined him within seconds. Without

waiting to consult his grim-faced Auror, Harry motioned to Ron and

Hermione to follow him up the platform, looking for an empty

compartment.

"We can't, Harry," said Hermione, looking apologetic. "Ron and I've

got to go to the prefects' carriage first and then patrol the corridors for

a bit."

"Ah yes, the wondrous joys of prefect duties," said Remus with a sigh.

"Oh yeah, I forgot," said Harry.

"You'd better get straight on the train, all of you, you've only got a few

minutes to go," said Mrs. Weasley, consulting her watch. "Well, have a

lovely term, Ron…"

"Mr. Weasley, can I have a quick word?" said Harry, making up his

mind on the spur of the moment.

"Of course," said Mr. Weasley, who looked slightly surprised, but

followed Harry out of earshot of the others nevertheless.

Harry had thought it through carefully and come to the conclusion

that, if he was to tell anyone, Mr. Weasley was the right person; firstly,

because he worked at the Ministry and was therefore in the best

position to make further investigations, and secondly, because he

thought that there was not too much risk of Mr. Weasley exploding

with anger. He could see Mrs. Weasley and the grim-faced Auror

casting the pair of them suspicious looks as they moved away.

"When we were in Diagon Alley," Harry began, but Mr. Weasley

forestalled him with a grimace.

"Am I about to discover where you, Ron, and Hermione disappeared to

while you were supposed to be in the back room of Fred and George's

shop?"

"How did you…?"

"Harry, please. You're talking to the man who raised Fred and

George."

"I knew it!"

"Er… yeah, all right, we weren't in the back room."

"Very well, then, let's hear the worst."

"Well, we followed Draco Malfoy. We used my Invisibility Cloak."

"Did you have any particular reason for doing so, or was it a mere

whim?"

"Because I thought Malfoy was up to something," said Harry,

disregarding Mr. Weasley's look of mingled exasperation and

amusement. "He'd given his mother the slip and I wanted to know

why."

"Of course you did," said Mr. Weasley, sounding resigned. "Well? Did

you find out why?"

"He went into Borgin and Burkes," said Harry, "and started bullying

the bloke in there, Borgin, to help him fix something. And he said he

wanted Borgin to keep something else for him. He made it sound like it

was the same kind of thing that needed fixing. Like they were a pair.

And…"

Hermione felt like shaking her head, the sheer accuracy of Harry's

deductions was almost annoying her, as they made her and Ron look like

idiots for ignoring them, particularly in light of the events to come.

Harry took a deep breath.

"There's something else. We saw Malfoy jump about a mile when

Madam Malkin tried to touch his left arm. I think he's been branded

with the Dark Mark. I think he's replaced his father as a Death Eater."

Mr. Weasley looked taken aback.

Hermione chewed on her lip thoughtfully, she wondered if he was shocked

at suggestion or if he was shocked that Harry deduced it so easily.

Considering the omniscience of Dumbledore, the latter was more than

possible.

After a moment he said, "Harry, I doubt whether You-Know-Who

would allow a sixteen-year-old…"

Regulus laughed, but it was a dry sarcastic laugh, rather than an expression

of amusement.

"Does anyone really know what You-Know-Who would or wouldn't

do?" asked Harry angrily. "Mr. Weasley, I'm sorry, but isn't it worth

investigating? If Malfoy wants something fixing, and he needs to

threaten Borgin to get it done, it's probably something Dark or

dangerous, isn't it?"

"I doubt it, to be honest, Harry," said Mr. Weasley slowly. "You see,

when Lucius Malfoy was arrested, we raided his house. We took away

everything that might have been dangerous."

"I think you missed something," said Harry stubbornly.

"Well, maybe," said Mr. Weasley, but Harry could tell that Mr. Weasley

was humouring him.

There was a whistle behind them; nearly everyone had boarded the

train and the doors were closing.

"You'd better hurry!" said Mr. Weasley, as Mrs. Weasley cried,

"Harry, quickly!"

He hurried forward and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley helped him load his

trunk onto the train.

"Now, dear, you're coming to us for Christmas, it's all fixed with

Dumbledore, so we'll see you quite soon," said Mrs. Weasley through

the window, as Harry slammed the door shut behind him and the train

began to move. "You make sure you look after yourself and…"

The train was gathering speed.

"… be good and…" She was jogging to keep up now. "… stay safe!"

"Is the last one even possible?" asked Alice sarcastically.

"No," said Hermione with a tight smile.

Harry waved until the train had turned a corner and Mr. and Mrs.

Weasley were lost to view, then turned to see where the others had got

to. He supposed Ron and Hermione were cloistered in the prefects'

carriage, but Ginny was a little way along the corridor, chatting to

some friends. He made his way toward her, dragging his trunk.

People stared shamelessly as he approached. They even pressed their

faces against the windows of their compartments to get a look at him.

He had expected an upswing in the amount of gaping and gawping he

would have to endure this term after all the "Chosen One" rumors in

the Daily Prophet, but he did not enjoy the sensation of standing in a

very bright spotlight.

"Sit with Neville," commanded Alice, "that way I can hear more about my

son!"

"Why would we want that? He's related to you!" retorted Sirius.

"Shove it Black!" said Alice

"Real witty Smithy!" replied Sirius with a grin, knowing the adaptation to

her last name would annoy her.

He tapped Ginny on the shoulder.

"Fancy trying to find a compartment?"

"I can't, Harry, I said I'd meet Dean," said Ginny brightly. "See you

later."

"Right," said Harry. He felt a strange twinge of annoyance as she

walked away, her long red hair dancing behind her; he had become so

used to her presence over the summer that he had almost forgotten that

Ginny did not hang around with him, Ron, and Hermione while at

school. Then he blinked and looked around: He was surrounded by

mesmerized girls.

"There are worse things that could happen," said James.

"Really?" drawled Lily, sending James a pointed glare, the effect of which

was ruined by the grin on her face at her boyfriend's antics.

"What can I say, us Potter's have it all, the charm, intelligence, wit..."

"You forgot ego," coughed Remus.

"...women can't help but be mesmerized when faced with such perfection."

"Is he serious?" asked Hermione to Remus.

Remus grinned, "no. He is just being an arse, in other words himself.

Because Lily used to rag on him about his arrogance, he tends to exaggerate

it as a bit of a joke, you get use to it."

"I doubt I have a choice but to," replied Hermione.

"Hi, Harry!" said a familiar voice from behind him.

"Neville!" said Harry in relief, turning to see a round-faced boy

struggling toward him.

"Score. Sucked in Black, I win," crowed Alice.

"Considering you were the only one aware of this competition, it means that

you were the only participant, which means by rights you are the loser as

well. Sucked in loser," replied Sirius with a smirk.

"Insolent puppy," huffed Alice.

"Hello, Harry," said a girl with long hair and large misty eyes, who was

just behind Neville.

"Luna, hi, how are you?"

"Very well, thank you," said Luna. She was clutching a magazine to her

chest; large letters on the front announced that there was a pair of free

Spectrespecs inside.

"Quibbler still going strong, then?" asked Harry, who felt a certain

fondness for the magazine, having given it an exclusive interview the

previous year.

"Oh yes, circulation's well up," said Luna happily.

"Let's find seats," said Harry, and the three of them set off along the

train through hordes of silently staring students. At last they found an

empty compartment, and Harry hurried inside gratefully.

"They're even staring at us?" said Neville, indicating himself and Luna.

"Because we're with you!"

"They're staring at you because you were at the Ministry too," said

Harry, as he hoisted his trunk into the luggage rack. "Our little

adventure there was all over the Daily Prophet, you must've seen it."

"Yes, I thought Gran would be angry about all the publicity," said

Neville, "but she was really pleased. Says I'm starting to live up to my

dad at long last. She bought me a new wand, look!"

"He didn't need the department of mysteries to make me proud," said Frank,

"I'm sure at some point he will torment Ali, which will make me prouder

than James Potter!"

"OI!" yelped an 'offended' James.

He pulled it out and showed it to Harry.

"Cherry and unicorn hair," he said proudly. "We think it was one of

the last Ollivander ever sold, he vanished next day… oy, come back

here, Trevor!"

And he dived under the seat to retrieve his toad as it made one of its

frequent bids for freedom.

"Are we still doing D.A. meetings this year, Harry?" asked Luna, who

was detaching a pair of psychedelic spectacles from the middle of The

Quibbler.

"No point now we've got rid of Umbridge, is there?" said Harry, sitting

down. Neville bumped his head against the seat as he emerged from

under it. He looked most disappointed.

"I think it would be useful to help build alliances as well as prepare for the

inevitable upcoming violence," said Regulus, "which makes it far from

useless."

"I liked the D.A.! I learned loads with you!"

"I enjoyed the meetings too," said Luna serenely. "It was like having

friends."

This was one of those uncomfortable things Luna often said and which

made Harry feel a squirming mixture of pity and embarrassment.

Before he could respond, however, there was a disturbance outside

their compartment door; a group of fourth-year girls was whispering

and giggling together on the other side of the glass.

Hermione scowled she wasn't particularly fond of Harry's array of fangirls

that year, especially after the love potion incident and Ron's near death

experience. Harry wasn't particularly happy about them either, perhaps she

had been around the marauders too long, but she was beginning to

appreciate just how amusing watching Harry try to avoid them was.

"You ask him!"

"No, you! "

"I'll do it!"

And one of them, a bold-looking girl with large dark eyes, a prominent

chin, and long black hair pushed her way through the door.

"Hi, Harry, I'm Romilda, Romilda Vane," she said loudly and

confidently. "Why don't you join us in our compartment? You don't

have to sit with them," she added in a stage whisper, indicating

Neville's bottom, which was sticking out from under the seat again as

he groped around for Trevor,

"There is nothing wrong with my son's bottom," declared Alice,

"particularly if it is anything like his father's..." unfortunately she was cut

off when Lily whacked her with a cushion, "hey, that's abuse!"

"So is your drivel... little thing known as verbal abuse, tic for tac Ali,"

replied Lily cheekily.

and Luna, who was now wearing her free Spectrespecs, which gave her

the look of a demented, multicolored owl.

"They're friends of mine," said Harry coldly.

"Oh," said the girl, looking very surprised. "Oh. Okay."

And she withdrew, sliding the door closed behind her.

"People expect you to have cooler friends than us," said Luna, once

again displaying her knack for embarrassing honesty.

"You are cool," said Harry shortly. "None of them was at the Ministry.

They didn't fight with me."

"Good lad," said Frank approvingly.

"That's a very nice thing to say," beamed Luna. Then she pushed her

Spectrespecs farther up her nose and settled down to read The

Quibbler.

"We didn't face him, though," said Neville, emerging from under the

seat with fluff and dust in his hair and a resigned-looking Trevor in his

hand. "You did. You should hear my gran talk about you. 'That Harry

Potter's got more backbone than the whole Ministry of Magic put

together!' She'd give anything to have you as a grandson…"

"I'm not sure about that," said Sirius, "that would mean she would have to

put up with Prongs for a son, even his own mother has problems with that,

which is why she semi-adopted me as an infinitely better child."

"Well my mother has always been nice enough to put up with strays..."

retorted James, "Besides in a trade off for me as a son vs having Smith as a

daughter who do you think she would choose?"

"Didn't realise you liked Frankie that way Potter," simpered Alice, "seems I

was right about you all along."

"That is quite enough of that," interrupted Minerva, "how about you

continue to read."

Harry laughed uncomfortably and changed the subject to OWL.

results as soon as he could. While Neville recited his grades and

wondered aloud whether he would be allowed to take a Transfiguration

NEWT, with only an "Acceptable," Harry watched him without really

listening.

Minerva shook her head, as fond as she was of the boy, she couldn't bend

the rules for anyone.

Neville's childhood had been blighted by Voldemort just as much as

Harry's had, but Neville had no idea how close he had come to having

Harry's destiny. The prophecy could have referred to either of them,

yet, for his own inscrutable reasons, Voldemort had chosen to believe

that Harry was the one meant.

Had Voldemort chosen Neville, it would be Neville sitting opposite

Harry bearing the lightning-shaped scar and the weight of the

prophecy… Or would it? Would Neville's mother have died to save

him, as Lily had died for Harry?

"If I had the chance, yes I would," said Alice seriously, "I hope Neville

never has to doubt the fact that Frank and I will love him dearly."

Surely she would… But what if she had been unable to stand between

her son and Voldemort? Would there then have been no "Chosen One"

at all? An empty seat where Neville now sat and a scarless Harry who

would have been kissed good-bye by his own mother, not Ron's?

"You all right, Harry? You look funny," said Neville.

Harry started. "Sorry… I…"

"Wrackspurt got you?" asked Luna sympathetically, peering at Harry

through her enormous coloured spectacles.

"I… what?"

"A Wrackspurt… They're invisible. They float in through your ears

and make your brain go fuzzy," she said. "I thought I felt one zooming

around in here."

She flapped her hands at thin air, as though beating off large invisible

moths. Harry and Neville caught each other's eyes and hastily began to

talk of Quidditch.

The weather beyond the train windows was as patchy as it had been all

summer; they passed through stretches of the chilling mist, then out

into weak, clear sunlight. It was during one of the clear spells, when the

sun was visible almost directly overhead, that Ron and Hermione

entered the compartment at last.

"Wish the lunch trolley would hurry up, I'm starving," said Ron

longingly, slumping into the seat beside Harry and rubbing his

stomach. "Hi, Neville. Hi, Luna. Guess what?" he added, turning to

Harry. "Malfoy's not doing prefect duty. He's just sitting in his

compartment with the other Slytherins, we saw him when we passed."

"Someone is feeling lazy," said Lily, "that isn't really the hallmark of a good

prefect."

"Neither is being a death eater," said James with a scowl, thinking of

Draco's suspected allegiances, "probably better that he is lazy than abusing

his authority."

"Does that mean you can't be a good prefect?" asked Hermione to Regulus

in an undertone.

"I am a brilliant and conscientious prefect, I'll have you know and I barely

abuse my position," replied Regulus.

"Barely?"

"You'll see," smirked Regulus, glad to use Hermione's favourite phrase back

at her, he was sure his brother, being the general victim of his 'abuse' of

power, would share his frustration with the general room.

Harry sat up straight, interested. It was not like Malfoy to pass up the

chance to demonstrate his power as prefect, which he had happily

abused all the previous year.

"What did he do when he saw you?"

"The usual," said Ron indifferently, demonstrating a rude hand

gesture. "Not like him, though, is it? Well… that is"— he did the hand

gesture again — "but why isn't he out there bullying first years?"

"I'll have you know I don't bully anyone with my position," said Regulus

with a smile, baiting his brother, he sent a smile and a wink to Hermione,

letting her know this would answer her remark.

Sirius snorted, "What do you call putting me in detention every time you

see me then?"

"Justice, someone has to be your conscience and show you the error your

ways, seeing as everyone else is blinded by ignorance or your so called

'charm'," retorted Regulus, "besides it amuses me. You would do the same

to me!"

"I'm pretty sure it is revenge for leaving you alone to endure Cissa's

wedding talk," countered Sirius, conveniently ignoring the truth that he

probably deserved it for everything else he got away with and would

reciprocate given the chance.

"That is just a convenient benefit," replied Regulus with a smile.

"Yes, 'I believe that is worth a detention brother, tsk tsk breathing too loudly

in a hallway...'" mocked Sirius.

"Despite all that you deserve it for all the detentions you deserve, but don't

get! Besides in the scheme of your behavioural history, I have scarcely

contributed to the sheer number of detentions you have amassed."

By this point quite a few people were chuckling at the antics of the two

brothers, the two professors found it especially amusing.

"Perhaps we should get back to the point," said James trying to use his

shiny head boy badge to take control.

"Indeed, that point being my brother abuses his position to pick on poor

defenceless siblings!" said Sirius, trying and succeeding to get the last

word, as James shook his head and just started to read anyway.

"Dunno," said Harry, but his mind was racing. Didn't this look as

though Malfoy had more important things on his mind than bullying

younger students?

"Maybe he preferred the Inquisitorial Squad," said Hermione. "Maybe

being a prefect seems a bit tame after that."

"Power is power," said Sirius, "Draco probably likes it."

"Besides prefects still get to assign detention," said Regulus with a smirk.

"I don't think so," said Harry. "I think he's —"

But before he could expound on his theory, the compartment door slid

open again and a breathless third-year girl stepped inside.

"I'm supposed to deliver these to Neville Longbottom and Harry P-

Potter," she faltered, as her eyes met Harry's and she turned scarlet.

She was holding out two scrolls of parchment tied with violet ribbon.

Perplexed, Harry and Neville took the scroll addressed to each of them

and the girl stumbled back out of the compartment.

"What is it?" Ron demanded, as Harry unrolled his.

"An invitation," said Harry.

"Probably Sluggy's attempt to compensate for not having seven years to

pick his precious favourites, I wonder what type of people he will invite,"

said Frank, "apart from Harry and Neville, though it seems that he is

picking people with some of legacy or recognition to start with."

Harry,

I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of lunch in

compartment C.

Sincerely,

Professor H. E. F. Slughorn

"But what does he want me for?" asked Neville nervously, as though he

was expecting detention.

"No idea," said Harry, which was not entirely true, though he had no

proof yet that his hunch was correct. "Listen," he added, seized by a

sudden brain wave, "let's go under the Invisibility Cloak, then we

might get a good look at Malfoy on the way, see what he's up to."

This idea, however, came to nothing: The corridors, which were packed

with people on the lookout for the lunch trolley, were impossible to

negotiate while wearing the cloak. Harry stowed it regretfully back in

his bag, reflecting that it would have been nice to wear it just to avoid

all the staring, which seemed to have increased in intensity even since

he had last walked down the train. Every now and then, students would

hurtle out of their compartments to get a better look at him. The

exception was Cho Chang, who darted into her compartment when she

saw Harry coming. As Harry passed the window, he saw her deep in

determined conversation with her friend Marietta, who was wearing a

very thick layer of makeup that did not entirely obscure the odd

formation of pimples still etched across her face. Smirking slightly,

Harry pushed on.

"When did they go away?" asked Lily with a bit of a wicked smile on her

face.

"They will go away when she feels sorry for telling on us, which is different

to sorry for getting pimples and caught and for getting your best friend into

trouble," said Hermione, "I think she was still rather angry about the

situation which probably made it rather difficult for her to actually feel

sorry having done it and wronging everyone."

"Did they go away?" asked Frank.

"Eventually," said Hermione.

When they reached compartment C, they saw at once that they were

not Slughorn's only invitees, although judging by the enthusiasm of

Slughorn's welcome, Harry was the most warmly anticipated.

"Harry, m'boy!" said Slughorn, jumping up at the sight of him so that

his great velvet-covered belly seemed to fill all the remaining space in

the compartment. His shiny bald head and great silvery mustache

gleamed as brightly in the sunlight as the golden buttons on his

waistcoat. "Good to see you, good to see you! And you must be Mr.

Longbottom!"

Neville nodded, looking scared. At a gesture from Slughorn, they sat

down opposite each other in the only two empty seats, which were

nearest the door. Harry glanced around at their fellow guests. He

recognized a Slytherin from their year, a tall black boy with high

cheekbones and long, slanting eyes; there were also two seventh-year

boys Harry did not know and, squashed in the corner beside Slughorn

and looking as though she was not entirely sure how she had got there,

Ginny.

"Wonder what she did to earn the punishment, I mean pleasure," said Sirius.

"Now, do you know everyone?" Slughorn asked Harry and Neville.

"Blaise Zabini is in your year, of course —"

Zabini did not make any sign of recognition or greeting, nor did Harry

or Neville: Gryffindor and Slytherin students loathed each other on

principle.

"This is Cormac McLaggen, perhaps you've come across each other —?

No?"

McLaggen, a large, wiry-haired youth, raised a hand, and Harry and

Neville nodded back at him.

"—and this is Marcus Belby, I don't know whether —?"

Belby, who was thin and nervous-looking, gave a strained smile.

"— and this charming young lady tells me she knows you!" Slughorn

finished.

Ginny grimaced at Harry and Neville from behind Slughorn's back.

"My sentiments exactly," said Sirius.

"Well now, this is most pleasant," said Slughorn cozily. "A chance to

get to know you all a little better. Here, take a napkin. I've packed my

own lunch; the trolley, as I remember it, is heavy on liquorice wands,

and a poor old man's digestive system isn't quite up to such things…

Pheasant, Belby?"

"Because pheasant is such a healthy snack," sneered Severus.

"Not with all the fat which Professor Slughorn has them with, and he thinks

liquorice is bad for his digestion," said Alice.

Belby started and accepted what looked like half a cold pheasant.

"I was just telling young Marcus here that I had the pleasure of

teaching his Uncle Damocles," Slughorn told Harry and Neville, now

passing around a basket of rolls. "Outstanding wizard, outstanding,

and his Order of Merlin most well-deserved. Do you see much of your

uncle, Marcus?"

Unfortunately, Beiby had just taken a large mouthful of pheasant; in

his haste to answer Slughorn he swallowed too fast, turned purple, and

began to choke.

"Anapneo," said Slughorn calmly, pointing his wand at Belby, whose

airway seemed to clear at once.

"Not… not much of him, no," gasped Belby, his eyes streaming.

"Bump-bam! Wrong answer," said Alice.

"Well, of course, I daresay he's busy," said Slughorn, looking

questioningly at Belby. "I doubt he invented the Wolfsbane Potion

without considerable hard work!"

"Wolfsbane Potion?" asked Severus curiously, "what does that do?"

"Remus will like this one, it is a potion for werewolves which allows them

to keep their mind while in wolf form, although apparently it tastes horrific,

but it is a real breakthrough in terms of curing lycantropathy and reducing

the effects of it," explained Hermione.

Remus smiled, "it's good to see there is some hope for the future then, even

if it is in the little things."

"I suppose…" said Belby, who seemed afraid to take another bite of

pheasant until he was sure that Slughorn had finished with him. "Er…

he and my dad don't get on very well, you see, so I don't really know

much about…"

"Going, going, gone! Well done Belby, you managed to escape the

transformation into one of Slughorn's objectified trinkets," congratulated

Sirius.

His voice tailed away as Slughorn gave him a cold smile and turned to

McLaggen instead.

"Now, you, Cormac," said Slughorn, "I happen to know you see a lot of

your Uncle Tiberius, because he has a rather splendid picture of the

two of you hunting nogtails in, I think, Norfolk?"

"Oh, yeah, that was fun, that was," said McLaggen. "We went with

Bertie Higgs and Rufus Scrimgeour; this was before he became

Minister, obviously —"

"Well he knows how to play the name game," observed Frank.

"Ah, you know Bertie and Rufus too?" beamed Slughorn, now offering

around a small tray of pies; somehow, Belby was missed out. "Now tell

me…"

It was as Harry had suspected. Everyone here seemed to have been

invited because they were connected to somebody well-known or

influential — everyone except Ginny. Zabini, who was interrogated

after McLaggen, turned out to have a famously beautiful witch for a

mother (from what Harry could make out, she had been married seven

times, each of her husbands dying mysteriously and leaving her

mounds of gold).

"A femme fatale it seems," said Sirius, "and people wonder why I don't

trust women, especially those who judge by names and bank accounts. The

idiots who trust them are open prey for a black widow."

It was Neville's turn next: This was a very uncomfortable ten minutes,

for Neville's parents, well-known Aurors, had been tortured into

insanity by Bellatrix Lestrange and a couple of Death Eater cronies. At

the end of Neville's interview, Harry had the impression that Slughorn

was reserving judgment on Neville, yet to see whether he had any of his

parents' flair.

"Apparently they have flair," stage whispered Remus to Sirius, teasing the

future Mr and Mrs Longbottom.

"And now," said Slughorn, shifting massively in his seat with the air of

a compere introducing his star act. "Harry Potter! Where to begin? I

feel I barely scratched the surface when we met over the summer!" He

contemplated Harry for a moment as though he was a particularly

large and succulent piece of pheasant, then said, "'The Chosen One,'

they're calling you now!"

Harry said nothing. Belby, McLaggen, and Zabini were all staring at

him.

"Of course," said Slughorn, watching Harry closely, "there have been

rumours for years… I remember when… well — after that terrible

night — Lily — James — and you survived — and the word was that

you must have powers beyond the ordinary —"

"Harry Potter the collectors edition, available for purchase for your pleasure

for the low low price of a pheasant lunch," mocked Regulus.

Zabini gave a tiny little cough that was clearly supposed to indicate

amused skepticism. An angry voice burst out from behind Slughorn.

"Yeah, Zabini, because you're so talented… at posing…"

Hermione burst out laughing, no one else really understood the joke, but

then no one else really knew Blaise Zabini or Ginny well enough to find it

quite so funny.

"Oh dear!" chuckled Slughorn comfortably, looking around at Ginny,

who was glaring at Zabini around Slughorn's great belly. "You want to

be careful, Blaise! I saw this young lady perform the most marvelous

Bat-Bogey Hex as I was passing her carriage! I wouldn't cross her!"

"Ginny is another one whose temper is as fiery as her hair," said Hermione.

Zabini merely looked contemptuous.

"Anyway," said Slughorn, turning back to Harry. "Such rumors this

summer. Of course, one doesn't know what to believe, the Prophet has

been known to print inaccuracies, make mistakes — but there seems

little doubt, given the number of witnesses, that there was quite a

disturbance at the Ministry and that you were there in the thick of it

all!"

Harry, who could not see any way out of this without flatly lying,

nodded but still said nothing. Slughorn beamed at him.

"Seems Horace is on a fishing expedition," commented Albus, "I daresay I

probably denied him the information from myself so he too is trying to find

out what is happening."

"So modest, so modest, no wonder Dumbledore is so fond — you were

there, then? But the rest of the stories — so sensational, of course, one

doesn't know quite what to believe — this fabled prophecy, for instance

—"

"We never heard a prophecy," said Neville, turning geranium pink as

he said it.

"That's right," said Ginny staunchly. "Neville and I were both there

too, and all this 'Chosen One' rubbish is just the Prophet making things

up as usual."

"You were both there too, were you?" said Slughorn with great interest,

looking from Ginny to Neville, but both of them sat clam-like before his

encouraging smile.

"It seems they will both now have Sluggy's undivided attention for the rest

of the year."

"Yes… well… it is true that the Prophet often exaggerates, of course…"

Slughorn said, sounding a little disappointed. "I remember dear

Gwenog telling me (Gwenog Jones, I mean, of course, Captain of the

Holyhead Harpies) —"

"You mean that little Welsh pocket-rocket in Ravenclaw?" asked James,

"wow good going, I new that little girl had talent, she is what a second

year? She scored so many goals in her first match against Hufflepuff this

year, it was insane. I'm not surprised she went professional."

"Indeed," said Lily, "She was at a lot of Professor Slughorn's parties after

that, she was one of the youngest there. You may not like him, you must

admit he has a good eye for who is going to do well in life."

"You just like him, because he supports you and let us use the labs in years

past for our various experiments," pointed out Severus.

He meandered off into a long-winded reminiscence, but Harry had the

distinct impression that Slughorn had not finished with him, and that

he had not been convinced by Neville and Ginny.

The afternoon wore on with more anecdotes about illustrious wizards

Slughorn had taught, all of whom had been delighted to join what he

called the "Slug Club" at Hogwarts. Harry could not wait to leave, but

couldn't see how to do so politely. Finally the train emerged from yet

another long misty stretch into a red sunset, and Slughorn looked

around, blinking in the twilight.

"Good gracious, it's getting dark already! I didn't notice that they'd lit

the lamps! You'd better go and change into your robes, all of you.

McLaggen, you must drop by and borrow that book on nogtails. Harry,

Blaise — any time you're passing. Same goes for you, miss," he

twinkled at Ginny. "Well, off you go, off you go!"

As he pushed past Harry into the darkening corridor, Zabini shot him

a filthy look that Harry returned with interest. He, Ginny, and Neville

followed Zabini back along the train.

"I'm glad that's over," muttered Neville. "Strange man, isn't he?"

"Yeah, he is a bit," said Harry, his eyes on Zabini. "How come you

ended up in there, Ginny?"

"He saw me hex Zacharias Smith," said Ginny. "You remember that

idiot from Hufflepuff who was in the D.A.? He kept on and on asking

about what happened at the Ministry and in the end he annoyed me so

much I hexed him — when Slughorn came in I thought I was going to

get detention, but he just thought it was; it really good hex and invited

me to lunch! Mad, eh?"

"If all it takes is a good hex to get invited, no wonder he rags after us so

much," said James.

"After you perhaps," corrected Remus with a dry and somewhat bitter edge

to his voice, "after all werewolves aren't likely to succeed in life, which

keeps me relatively safe from becoming a collector's item, no matter how

many good hexes I throw."

"I'm not sure about that Moons," said James teasingly, trying to divert the

moment of self-pity, "it could just be that you have caused too many

disasters in his classroom for him to forgive, after all no one forgets

accidently being turned electric orange and being given flatulence from a

pepper-up potion gone wrong."

"I'll have you remember that potion came in rather handy for other

activities!" argues Remus, his slight embarrassment over-taking his

bitterness against his condition.

"Better reason for inviting someone than because their mother's

famous," said Harry, scowling at the back of Zabini's head, "or

because their uncle —"

But he broke off. An idea had just occurred to him, a reckless but

potentially wonderful idea…

"Sounds familiar," said Lily, "he gets that from his father!"

"Most of our brilliant pranks do indeed have such humble beginnings,"

acquiesced James

Hermione grimaced, she knew what this thought was, and in her opinion it

was not one of Harry's brighter ones.

In a minute's time, Zabini was going to reenter the Slytherin sixth-year

compartment and Malfoy would be sitting there, thinking himself

unheard by anybody except fellow Slytherins…

"Oh dear, he shouldn't do that, imagine what would happen if he was caught

or discovered!" worried Lily. Hermione knew this fear was well founded.

If Harry could only enter, unseen, behind him, what might he not see or

hear? True, there was little of the journey left… Hogsmeade Station

had to be less than half an hour away, judging by the wildness of the

scenery flashing by the windows… but nobody else seemed prepared to

take Harry's suspicions seriously, so it was down to him to prove them.

Hermione grimaced, she knew they should have taken Harry more seriously

in retrospect, but her position seemed justified at the time.

"I'll see you two later," said Harry under his breath, pulling out his

Invisibility Cloak and flinging it over himself.

"But what're you —?" asked Neville.

"Later!" whispered Harry, darting after Zabini as quietly as possible,

though the rattling of the train made such caution almost pointless.

The corridors were almost completely empty now. Nearly everyone had

returned to their carriages to change into their school robes and pack

up their possessions. Though he was as close as he could get to Zabini

without touching him, Harry was not quick enough to slip into the

compartment when Zabini opened the door. Zabini was already sliding

it shut when Harry hastily stuck out his foot to prevent it closing.

"What's wrong with this thing?" said Zabini angrily as he smashed the

sliding door repeatedly into Harry's foot.

Harry seized the door and pushed it open, hard; Zabini, still clinging

on to the handle, toppled over sideways into Gregory Goyle's lap, and

in the ensuing ruckus, Harry darted into the compartment, leapt onto

Zabini's temporarily empty seat, and hoisted himself up into the

luggage rack.

"Smooth," said Remus dryly.

"That was well-thought out," said James sarcastically.

"Must be a family trait," said Severus.

"Yes well that Lily, tsk tsk, she never does anything properly," injected

Alice, twisting Severus' comment.

"Cheers Ali," said Lily wryly, "love you too."

It was fortunate that Goyle and Zabini were snarling at each other,

drawing all eyes onto them, for Harry was quite sure his feet and

ankles had been revealed as the cloak had flapped around them;

indeed, for one horrible moment he thought he saw Malfoy's eyes

follow his trainer as it whipped upward out of sight.

"That can't be good," said Frank.

But then Goyle slammed the door shut and flung Zabini off him;

Zabini collapsed into his own seat looking ruffled, Vincent Crabbe

returned to his comic, and Malfoy, sniggering, lay back down across

two seats with his head in Pansy Parkinsons lap. Harry lay curled

uncomfortably under the cloak to ensure that every inch of him

remained hidden, and watched Pansy stroke the sleek blond hair off

Malfoy's forehead, smirking as she did so, as though anyone would

have loved to have been in her place. The lanterns swinging from the

carriage ceiling cast a bright light over the scene: Harry could read

every word of Crabbe's comic directly below him.

"So, Zabini," said Malfoy, "what did Slughorn want?"

"Just trying to make up to well-connected people," said Zabini, who

was still glowering at Goyle. "Not that he managed to find many."

This information did not seem to please Malfoy. "Who else had he

invited?" he demanded.

"McLaggen from Gryffindor," said Zabini.

"Oh yeah, his uncle's big in the Ministry," said Malfoy.

"— someone else called Belby, from Ravenclaw…"

"Not him, he's a prat!" said Pansy.

"— and Longbottom, Potter, and that Weasley girl," finished Zabini.

Malfoy sat up very suddenly, knocking Pansy's hand aside.

"He invited Longbottom?"

"Of course," said Alice, "our son is awesome."

"Just like his mother," said Frank.

"No he's not," said Hermione, trying to picture for a moment Neville

Longbottom with Alice's sense of humour, "thank Merlin for that."

"Well, I assume so, as Longbottom was there," said Zabini

indifferently.

"What's Longbottom got to interest Slughorn?" Zabini shrugged.

"Potter, precious Potter, obviously he wanted a look at 'the Chosen

One,'" sneered Malfoy, "but that Weasley girl! What's so special about

her?"

"A lot of boys like her," said Pansy, watching Malfoy out of the corner

of her eyes for his reaction. "Even you think she's good-looking, don't

you, Blaise, and we all know how hard you are to please!"

"I wouldn't touch a filthy little blood traitor like her whatever she

looked like," said Zabini coldly, and Pansy looked pleased. Malfoy sank

back across her lap and allowed her to resume the stroking of his hair.

"Well, I pity Slughorn's taste. Maybe he's going a bit senile. Shame, my

father always said he was a good wizard in his day. My father used to

be a bit of a favourite of his. Slughorn probably hasn't heard I'm on the

train, or —"

"I wouldn't bank on an invitation," said Zabini. "He asked me about

Notts father when I first arrived. They used to be old friends,

apparently, but when he heard he'd been caught at the Ministry he

didn't look happy, and Nott didn't get an invitation, did he? I don't

think Slughorn's interested in Death Eaters."

"One of his redeemable qualities," said James.

Malfoy looked angry, but forced out a singularly humourless laugh.

"Well, who cares what he's interested in? What is he, when you come

down to it? Just some stupid teacher." Malfoy yawned ostentatiously.

"You are only saying that because you weren't invited," said Regulus, "if

you were you would be crowing from here to kingdom come."

"I mean, I might not even be at Hogwarts next year, what's it matter to

me if some fat old has-been likes me or not?"

"What do you mean, you might not be at Hogwarts next year?" said

Pansy indignantly, ceasing grooming Malfoy at once.

"Well, you never know," said Malfoy with the ghost of a smirk. "I

might have — er — moved on to bigger and better things."

Crouched in the luggage rack under his cloak, Harry's heart began to

race. What would Ron and Hermione say about this?

"Unfortunately if Malfoy has seen Harry he is probably putting on a show

for him, probably having guessed his intentions for being there," pointed

out Frank, "however that being said, it doesn't make what he has to say less

accurate."

Crabbe and Goyle were gawping at Malfoy; apparently they had had

no inkling of any plans to move on to bigger and better things. Even

Zabini had allowed a look of curiosity to mar his haughty features.

Pansy resumed the slow stroking of Malfoy s hair, looking

dumbfounded.

"Do you mean — Him?"

Malfoy shrugged.

"Mother wants me to complete my education, but personally, I don't

see it as that important these days. I mean, think about it… When the

Dark Lord takes over, is he going to care how many O.W.L.s or

N.E.W.T.s anyone's got? Of course he isn't. It'll be all about the kind of

service he received, the level of devotion he was shown."

Regulus sighed, "that is true to a point, however the Dark Lord doesn't

recruit people haphazardly there are always reasons, such as financial

resources available, influence, placement, knowledge or talents. If Draco

wants to not be expendable he needs something to make him

indispensable."

"Is that why you try so hard at school?" asked James, "to make yourself

indispensable and thus save your own skin."

Regulus snorted dryly, "trust me, considering the fact I am definitely not

loyal to the idiot I daresay my indispensability is pointless to try and

achieve. Even if I did have it, it didn't appear to save me in your son's

reality."

"Besides it is a Black family pride thing as well, the Black family boasts

about being the most ancient pureblood line, therefore it is drilled into us

from birth that we have to live up to our reputation. Why else do you think

we are forced to learn so much crap before even starting school? To prove

the worth of the ancient lines!" explained Sirius, however there was a bitter

and somewhat sarcastic tone to it, "though as much as it pains me to admit

it, that is one part of the Black legacy I am proud to have. Stupidity so

would not suit my complexion."

"I have to concur," said Albus, "all the Blacks which I have taught, no

matter their political bias have all been exceptional students... I remember

one time when Walburga Black took on one of her year mates, the most

talented transfiguration student I had seen in some time... it was quite the

sight."

For some reason this remark made Minerva McGonagall flush slightly,

something which the Blacks noticed which gave both a lot more respect for

the transfiguration professor.

"It is this quality though that made Sluggy want to have the complete set,"

added Sirius, bringing the topic of conversation back to a more chapter

related topic.

"And you think you'll be able to do something for him?" asked Zabini

scathingly. "Sixteen years old and not even fully qualified yet?"

"I've just said, haven't I? Maybe he doesn't care if I'm qualified.

Maybe the job he wants me to do isn't something that you need to be

qualified for," said Malfoy quietly.

Albus' mind was awhirl, possible staging or not, this chapter was full of

hints about the future, which provided more food for thought than the

discussion of Horace's pheasant.

Crabbe and Goyle were both sitting with their mouths open like

gargoyles. Pansy was gazing down at Malfoy as though she had never

seen anything so awe-inspiring.

"I can see Hogwarts," said Malfoy, clearly relishing the effect he had

created as he pointed out of the blackened window. "We'd better get

our robes on."

Harry was so busy staring at Malfoy, he did not notice Goyle reaching

up for his trunk; as he swung it down, it hit Harry hard on the side of

the head. He let out an involuntary gasp of pain, and Malfoy looked up

at the luggage rack, frowning.

Harry was not afraid of Malfoy, but he still did not much like the idea

of being discovered hiding under his Invisibility Cloak by a group of

unfriendly Slytherins. Eyes still watering and head still throbbing, he

drew his wand, careful not to disarrange the cloak, and waited, breath

held. To his relief, Malfoy seemed to decide that he had imagined the

noise; he pulled on his robes like the others, locked his trunk, and as

the train slowed to a jerky crawl, fastened a thick new travelling cloak

round his neck.

Harry could see the corridors filling up again and hoped that Hermione

and Ron would take his things out onto the platform for him; he was

stuck where he was until the compartment had quite emptied. At last,

with a final lurch, the train came to a complete halt. Goyle threw the

door open and muscled his way out into a crowd of second years,

punching them aside; Crabbe and Zabini followed.

"You go on," Malfoy told Pansy, who was waiting for him with her

hand held out as though hoping he would hold it. "I just want to check

something."

"Oh crap," said Remus, which pretty much summed up the sentiments of

the room at that time.

Pansy left. Now Harry and Malfoy were alone in the compartment.

People were filing past, descending onto the dark platform. Malfoy

moved over to the compartment door and let down the blinds, so that

people in the corridor beyond could not peer in. He then bent down

over his trunk and opened it again.

Harry peered down over the edge of the luggage rack, his heart

pumping a little faster. What had Malfoy wanted to hide from Pansy?

Was he about to see the mysterious broken object it was so important

to mend?

"Idiot," cursed Hermione under her breath.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Without warning, Malfoy pointed his wand at Harry, who was instantly

paralyzed. As though in slow motion, he toppled out of the luggage

rack and fell, with an agonizing, floor-shaking crash, at Malfoy's feet,

the Invisibility Cloak trapped beneath him, his whole body revealed

with his legs still curled absurdly into the cramped kneeling position.

He couldn't move a muscle; he could only gaze up at Malfoy, who

smiled broadly.

"I thought so," he said jubilantly. "I heard Goyle's trunk hit you. And I

thought I saw something white flash through the air after Zabini came

back…"

His eyes lingered for a moment upon Harry's trainers.

"You didn't hear anything I care about, Potter. But while I've got you

here…"

And he stamped, hard, on Harry's face. Harry felt his nose break;

blood spurted everywhere.

Lily scowled, how dare he do that to her son.

"That's from my father. Now, let's see…"

Malfoy dragged the cloak out from under Harry's immobilized body

and threw it over him.

"I don't reckon they'll find you till the trains back in London," he said

quietly. "See you around, Potter… or not."

And taking care to tread on Harry's fingers, Malfoy left the

compartment.

"Why that little wretch!" shrieked Lily, "how dare he do that to my son."

"You can't be surprised that he did though," said Frank calmly, "after all, he

probably, irrationally mind you, blames Harry for his father's imprisonment,

so it isn't surprising that he took revenge, when unfortunately it was pretty

much delivered with a pretty pink bow to his doorstep with no

inconvenience to himself."

Lily nodded and accepted the logic, even though he was still annoyed at the

logic.

"I hope that he gets out of it soon though, we would hate for him to not

make it to school," said Remus.

"I'm sure there is someone from the order there specifically to make sure

Harry gets to school, they will notice when he doesn't get off the train,"

soothed James.

"While you all relax, Minerva and I will go and check that no one else has

tried to fill your shoes and burn the school to the ground, we will

recommence in an hour, as always I will ensure that you will be well

stocked with refreshments for that period," said Albus calmly and smoothly

departing the room with Minerva on his flamboyant lime green heels.

Once outside the room the Professors had their own conversation.

"Albus I am worried about what is going to happen and what the Malfoy

boy is up to. Do you have any idea?" Minerva asked worriedly while not so

subtly fishing for information about her colleagues usually accurate

deductions.

"There is any number of possibilities of what could happen, for all we know

young Draco could try and force the whole of Slytherin house to learn irish

dancing so as to prepare them for roles as future spies," said Albus serenely,

well aware he was probably exasperating his colleague.

"Albus! Be serious," said Minerva sternly, or at least as sternly as you can

when talking with your boss.

"I am," said Albus, "I have always found Irish dancing to be a remarkable

form of entertainment, no one would anticipate them as intelligence agents

either. However that is one of many options floating through my mind from

the limited information we have been given."

"Can you venture a more realistic suggestion?" asked Minerva pointedly.

"I could," said Albus politely, "however I will decline at the present

moment, after all while there are hints I would not wish to spoil the ending

and element of surprise, as that is something Hermione is keen to preserve,

if nothing else the young lady deserves some amusement after everything

she appears to have been through, I daresay we have only skimmed the

surface so far and there are darker events to come. However I am more than

willing to share some of my more unique theories if you wish to hear them,

it involves young Mr Malfoy disguising himself as a ferret to infiltrate the

kitchens and woo the house-elves into placing love potions into staff meals

as a diversion..."

Minerva huffed slightly and turned on her heel, walking in the opposite

direction to make her way to her office. As Albus made his way forth

whistling a tune he heard his colleague cursing him, as the words

'insufferable man,' resonated throughout the hallway.

AN: Thanks for reading, please review! Cheers!

8. Chapter 8

Snape Victorious

AN: Here is another chapter, thanks to all who reviewed the last. As usual I

own nothing which you can recognise. Please enjoy this latest installment.

Cheers!

Minerva McGonagall felt refreshed from the break, there was nothing like

writing a nice, long, ranting letter lamenting the exasperating tendencies of

her boss and friend to make her feel better and she was sure that Alastor

would garner some amusement from it, even if she had to be deliberately

vague about what she was doing at the moment. In fact Minerva felt ready

to take on whatever the rest of the afternoon would throw at her. However

while walking back to the room on the seventh floor, she mused to her that

she probably would never be ready for what might occur in the room, given

the content of the books they were reading coupled with the rather

interesting combination of people.

Upon entering the room, Minerva saw the students in conversation with

each other. Sirius Black's capacity for intelligent conversation, it seemed,

would never cease to amaze her as he was currently in the middle of a

rather heated discussion with Hermione about a contestable point in the area

of Ancient Runes. By Hermione's look of exasperation it seemed that her

point was not prevailing which appeared to be vexing the time-traveller

greatly. Minerva felt the air shift behind her and noticed that Albus had just

arrived as well, so the pair of teachers quietly made their way over to their

seats and listened into the debate. After a few minutes they decided it was

time to get back to reading the book.

"As delightful as it is to see you all exercising your brains during your stay

here, I fear we must continue reading the book," interrupted Albus

smoothly, "if I recall correctly it is time for Mr Black to read for us, once he

has finished detailing us on the history and superiority of Celtic runes over

Egyptian runes in protective warding, which by and by, I did not realise was

part of the Hogwarts curriculum."

"Perhaps you could mention that to Professor Richards next time he

complains that I don't pay enough attention in class," said Sirius as he

picked up the book, "well this chapter looks fun, it is called Snape

Victorious."

"Do you finally perfect your shampoo recipe?" asked Lily cheekily, teasing

her friend.

"That would be called Snape Triumphant, rather than Snape Victorious,"

replied Severus.

"Given the events thus far," said Remus, "I am more inclined to think it

would be Snape getting the dark arts job, rather than performing what has

proven to be an impossible task, trust me we've tried degreasing your hair,

doesn't work."

"Unless you get rid of the hair all together," reminded Sirius with a bit of a

smirk.

Severus shuddered, he remembered the incident Sirius was referring to,

quite frankly he would rather have greasy hair than a bald head.

Harry could not move a muscle. He lay there beneath the Invisibility

Cloak feeling the blood from his nose flow, hot and wet, over his face,

listening to the voices and footsteps in the corridor beyond. His

immediate thought was that someone would, surely check the

compartments before the train departed again. But at once came the

dispiriting realization that even if somebody looked into the

compartment, he would be neither seen nor heard. His best hope was

that somebody else would walk in and step on him. Harry had never

hated Malfoy more than as he lay there, like an absurd turtle on its

back,

Hermione snorted, at least her friend's bizarre descriptions extended to

himself as well.

blood dripping sickeningly into his open mouth. What a stupid

situation to have landed himself in… and now the last few footsteps

were dying away; everyone was shuffling along the dark platform

outside; he could hear the scraping of trunks and loud babble of talk.

Ron and Hermione would think that he had left the train without them.

Once they arrived at Hogwarts and took their places in the Great Hall,

looked up and down the Gryffindor table a few times, and finally

realized that he was not there, he, no doubt, would be halfway back to

London.

"He's being pessimistic again," observed Lily, "why couldn't he have

inherited my optimism, it makes life so much more bearable."

He tried to make a sound, even a grunt, but it was impossible. Then he

remembered that some wizards, like Dumbledore, could perform spells

without speaking, so he tried to summon his wand, which had fallen out

of his hand, by saying the words "Accio Wand!" over and over again in

his head, but nothing happened.

"Normally people also have a wand," pointed out Frank dryly.

"But Harry has done wandless magic before," pointed out Lily.

"Accidental wandless magic is different to other wandless magic,"

explained Minerva, "when performing wandless magic, you need to connect

with your magical core and channel your magic through your body. It is

easy to do this accidentally as strong emotion can often work as the

connection, however doing this deliberately is harder because you have to

build the connection yourself, which Harry is not doing, which is why

nothing is happening."

He thought he could hear the rustling of the trees that surrounded the

lake, and the far-off hoot of an owl, but no hint of a search being made

or even (he despised himself slightly for hoping it) panicked voices

wondering where Harry Potter had gone. A feeling of hopelessness

spread through him as he imagined the convoy of thestral-drawn

carriages trundling up to the school and the muffled yells of laughter

issuing from whichever carriage Malfoy was riding in, where he could

be recounting his attack on Harry to Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, and Pansy

Parkinson.

The train lurched, causing Harry to roll over onto his side. Now he was

staring at the dusty underside of the seats instead of the ceiling. The

floor began to vibrate as the engine roared into life. The Express was

leaving and nobody knew he was still on it…

Then he felt his Invisibility Cloak fly off him and a voice overhead said,

"Wotcher, Harry."

"Thank goodness, that means Tonks has arrived," said Lily breathing out a

sigh of relief.

"Good on you Nymphie for saving the day," said Sirius, "usually it is her

that needs to be saved, especially after some of her clumsier moments."

There was a flash of red light and Harry's body unfroze; he was able to

push himself into a more dignified sitting position, hastily wipe the

blood off his bruised race with the back of his hand, and raise his head

to look up at Tonks, who was holding the Invisibility Cloak she had just

pulled away.

"We'd better get out of here, quickly," she said, as the train windows

became obscured with steam and they began to move out of the station.

"Come on, we'll jump."

Harry hurried after her into the corridor. She pulled open the train

door and leapt onto the platform, which seemed to be sliding

underneath them as the train gathered momentum. He followed her,

staggered a little on landing, then straightened up in time to see the

gleaming scarlet steam engine pick up speed, round the corner, and

disappear from view.

The cold night air was soothing on his throbbing nose. Tonks was

looking at him; he felt angry and embarrassed that he had been

discovered in such a ridiculous position. Silently she handed him back

the Invisibility Cloak.

"Who did it?"

"Draco Malfoy," said Harry bitterly. "Thanks for… well…"

"No problem," said Tonks, without smiling. From what Harry could see

in the darkness, she was as mousy-haired and miserable-looking as she

had been when he had met her at the Burrow.

Sirius shook his head, he didn't like his little cousin to be upset, hopefully

someone would thrash whoever did it in his absence, perhaps Moony might

be able to step in for him and hex the offending person.

"I can fix your nose if you stand still."

Harry did not think much of this idea;

"Considering Nym's clumsiness, she is probably rather adept at healing

charms by now," said Regulus.

he had been intending to visit Madam Pomfrey, the matron, in whom

he had a little more confidence when it came to Healing Spells, but it

seemed rude to say this, so he stayed stock-still and closed his eyes,

"Episkey" said Tonks.

Harry's nose felt very hot, and then very cold. He raised a hand and

felt gingerly. It seemed to be mended. "Thanks a lot!"

"He sounds so surprised," drawled Severus.

"You'd better put that cloak back on, and we can walk up to the

school," said Tonks, still unsmiling.

As Harry swung the cloak back over himself, she waved her wand; an

immense silvery four-legged creature erupted from it and streaked off

into the darkness.

"Was that a Patronus?" asked Harry, who had seen Dumbledore send

messages like this.

"Yes, I'm sending word to the castle that I've got you or they'll worry.

Come on, we'd better not dawdle."

They set off toward the lane that led to the school.

"How did you find me?"

"I noticed you hadn't left the train and I knew you had that cloak. I

thought you might be hiding for some reason. When I saw the blinds

were drawn down on that compartment I thought I'd check."

"But what are you doing here, anyway?" Harry asked.

"I'm stationed in Hogsmeade now, to give the school extra protection,"

said Tonks.

"Is it just you who's stationed up here, or —?"

"No, Proudfoot, Savage, and Dawlish are here too."

"Dawlish, that Auror Dumbledore attacked last year?"

"That's right."

They trudged up the dark, deserted lane, following the freshly made

carriage tracks. Harry looked sideways at Tonks under his cloak. Last

year she had been inquisitive (to the point of being a little annoying at

times), she had laughed easily, she had made jokes. Now she seemed

older and much more serious and purposeful. Was this all the effect of

what had happened at the Ministry? He reflected uncomfortably that

Hermione would have suggested he say something consoling about

Sirius to her, that it hadn't been her fault at all, but he couldn't bring

himself to do it. He was far from blaming her for Sirius's death; it was

no more her fault than anyone else's (and much less than his), but he

did not like talking about Sirius if he could avoid it. And so they

tramped on through the cold night in silence, Tonks's long cloak

whispering on the ground behind them.

Having always traveled there by carriage, Harry had never before

appreciated just how far Hogwarts was from Hogsmeade Station.

"It is even further when you are cold, hungry and humiliated and walking in

an uncomfortable silence," remarked Frank dryly.

With great relief he finally saw the tall pillars on either side of the

gates, each topped with a winged boar. He was cold, he was hungry and

he was quite keen to leave this new, gloomy Tonks behind. But when he

put out a hand to push open the gates, he found them chained shut.

"Well with the return of the Dark Lord, you can't expect the castle to be left

without security," pointed out Severus with a raised eyebrow at what

seemed to be a foolish action.

"Alohomora!" he said confidently, pointing his wand at the padlock,

but nothing happened.

"No duh," said Alice, "it seems your son is a few arrows short of a quiver at

the moment."

"That won't work on these," said Tonks. "Dumbledore bewitched them

himself."

Harry looked around, "I could climb a wall," he suggested.

"Really," asked Severus, "I'm sure it would be amusing to see him try."

Hermione agreed, and shook her head at the utter stupidity of her friend at

the moment.

"No, you couldn't," said Tonks flatly. "Anti-intruder jinxes on all of

them. Security's been tightened a hundredfold this summer."

"Well then," said Harry, starting to feel annoyed at her lack of

helpfulness, "I suppose I'll just have to sleep out here and wait for

morning. "

"Someone's coming down for you," said Tonks, "Look."

A lantern was bobbing at the distant foot of the castle. Harry was so

pleased to see it he felt he could even endure Filch's wheezy criticisms

of his tardiness and rants about how his timekeeping would improve

with the regular application of thumbscrews.

It was not until the glowing yellow light was ten feet away from them,

and had pulled off his Invisibility Cloak so that he could be seen, that

he recognized, with a rush of pure loathing, the uplit hooked nose and

long, black, greasy hair of Severus Snape.

"Better than no one," conceded James.

"Well, well, well," sneered Snape, taking out his wand and tapping the

padlock once, so that the chains snaked backward and the gates

creaked open. "Nice of you to turn up, Potter, although you have

evidently decided that the wearing of school robes would detract from

your appearance."

"I couldn't change, I didn't have my —" Harry began, but Snape cut

across him.

"There is no need to wait, Nymphadora, Potter is quite — ah — safe in

my hands."

"That is probably debatable," said James, "how do we know that your

mysterious mission you will be doing for Draco won't involve harming my

son?"

"Even if it does, I doubt I would do it so early in the year, after all I have to

let Draco have a go first," sneered Severus in reply.

"I meant Hagrid to get the message," said Tonks, frowning.

"Hagrid was late for the start-of-term feast, just like Potter here, so I

took it instead. And incidentally," said Snape, standing back to allow

Harry to pass him, "I was interested to see your new Patronus."

"Her patronus has changed?" asked Regulus, "that is not common, but I

guess not surprising considering a person's personality changes after major

upheavels, which can be reflected through a patronus change."

"I wonder what it is? And what it was, for that matter as well," mused

Sirius.

"It was a chameleon to start with," said Hermione after a moment of

thought, remembering Tonks telling her the summer before the adventure,

"however I won't tell you what it becomes."

He shut the gates in her face with a loud clang and tapped the chains

with his wand again, so that they slithered, clinking, back into place.

"I think you were better off with the old one," said Snape, the malice in

his voice unmistakable. "The new one looks weak."

Hermione snorted, she understood the subtle dig against Remus, even if no

one else knew what he was talking about.

As Snape swung the lantern about, Harry saw, fleetingly, a look of

shock and anger on Tonks's face. Then she was covered in darkness

once more.

"Good night," Harry called to her over his shoulder, as he began the

walk up to the school with Snape. "Thanks for… everything,"

"See you, Harry."

Snape did not speak for a minute or so. Harry felt as though his body

was generating waves of hatred so powerful that it seemed incredible

that Snape could not feel them burning him. He had loathed Snape

from their first encounter, but Snape had placed himself forever and

irrevocably beyond the possibility of Harry's forgiveness by his attitude

toward Sirius.

"He shouldn't worry about that," said Sirius shaking his head, "that was

nothing, we were positively tame."

"It seems like he is still trying to assign tangible blame for it and is using

Snape as a scapegoat," surmised Frank.

Whatever Dumbledore said, Harry had had time to think over the

summer, and had concluded that Snape's snide remarks to Sirius about

remaining safely hidden while the rest of the Order of the Phoenix were

off fighting Voldemort had probably been a powerful factor in Sirius

rushing off to the Ministry the night that he had died.

"Black probably wouldn't have even contemplated it when Potter Jnr was in

danger," said Snape, happy to be able to shift the blame from himself and

not be implicated in the death of Sirius Black.

Harry clung to this notion, because it enabled him to blame Snape,

which felt satisfying, and also because he knew that if anyone was not

sorry that Sirius was dead, it was the man now striding next to him in

the darkness.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor for lateness, I think," said Snape. "And,

let me see, another twenty for your Muggle attire. You know, I don't

believe any House has ever been in negative figures this early in the

term: We haven't even started pudding. You might have set a record,

Potter."

The fury and hatred bubbling inside Harry seemed to blaze white-hot,

but he would rather have been immobilized all the way back to London

than tell Snape why he was late.

"I suppose you wanted to make an entrance, did you?" Snape

continued. "And with no flying car available you decided that bursting

into the Great Hall halfway through the feast ought to create a

dramatic effect."

"Why are you being such an arse Sev? You aren't helping to improve his

opinion of you," scolded Lily, upset at the treatment of her son.

"I have to," said Snape sarcastically, "my future self is a bastard remember."

Still Harry remained silent, though he thought his chest might explode.

He knew that Snape had come to fetch him for this, for the few minutes

when he could needle and torment Harry without anyone else listening.

They reached the castle steps at last and as the great oaken front doors

swung open into the vast flagged entrance hall, a burst of talk and

laughter and of tinkling plates and glasses greeted them through the

doors standing open into the Great Hail. Harry wondered whether he

could slip his Invisibility Cloak back on, thereby gaining his seat at the

long Gryffindor table (which, inconveniently, was the farthest from the

entrance hall) without being noticed. As though he had read Harry's

mind, however, Snape said, "No cloak. You can walk in so that

everyone sees you, which is what you wanted, I'm sure."

"If nothing else it will teach him not to get caught and be so stupid and rash

when trying to spy on someone," said Snape.

Harry turned on the spot and marched straight through the open

doors: anything to get away from Snape. The Great Hall with its four

long House tables and its staff table set at the top of the room was

decorated as usual with floating candles that made the plates below

glitter and glow. It was all a shimmering blur to Harry, however, who

walked so fast that he was passing the Hufflepuff table before people

really started to stare, and by the time they were standing up to get a

good look at him, he had spotted Ron and Hermione, sped along the

benches toward them, and forced his way in between them.

"Where've you — blimey, what've you done to your face?" said Ron,

goggling at him along with everyone else in the vicinity.

A few people chuckled.

"How bad did he look?" asked Alice.

"Pretty bad," said Hermione, "I was going to tell him off for being so

stupid, Neville had already explained his ill-thought plan to us, but seeing

him walk in and quite frankly looking pathetic made me feel sorry for him

instead."

"Why, what's wrong with it?" said Harry, grabbing a spoon and

squinting at his distorted reflection.

"You're covered in blood!" said Hermione. "Come here —"

She raised her wand, said "Tergeo!" and siphoned off the dried blood.

"Thanks," said Harry, feeling his now clean face. "How's my nose

looking?

"Apparently he doesn't trust Nym's spellwork," observed Regulus.

"Normal," said Hermione anxiously. "Why shouldn't it? Harry, what

happened? We've been terrified!"

"I'll tell you later," said Harry curtly. He was very conscious that

Ginny, Neville, Dean, and Seamus were listening in; even Nearly

Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, had come floating along the bench

to eavesdrop.

"Don't let them fool you," said Remus, "the ghosts are among the biggest

gossips in the castle."

"Can't say I blame them," said Alice, "after all they can't do much else, so

they have to amuse themselves somehow, exploring the castle probably gets

boring after a while."

"But —" said Hermione.

"Not now, Hermione," said Harry, in a darkly significant voice. He

hoped very much that they would all assume he had been involved in

something heroic, preferably involving a couple of Death Eaters and a

dementor.

Hermione snorted, as did several others.

"I think I spotted James in there, which is relieving, because Harry is very

much like Lily in personality most of the times," observed Remus dryly

with a smile on his face.

Of course, Malfoy would spread the story as wide as he could, but there

was always a chance it wouldn't reach too many Gryffindor ears. He

reached across Ron for a couple of chicken legs and a handful of chips,

but before he could take them they vanished, to be replaced with

puddings.

"You missed the Sorting, anyway," said Hermione, as Ron dived for a

large chocolate gateau.

"Hat say anything interesting?" asked Harry, taking a piece of treacle

tart.

"More of the same, really… advising us all to unite in the face enemies,

you know."

"Dumbledore mentioned Voldemort at all?"

"Not yet, but he always saves his proper speech for after the feast

doesn't he? It can't be long now."

"Snape said Hagrid was late for the feast —"

"You've seen Snape? How come?" said Ron between frenzied

mouthfuls of gateau.

"What is with the continual mentions of food?" asked Remus, who was

feeling slightly peckish again, not surprising since the full moon was only a

week away.

"Bumped into him," said Harry evasively.

"Hagrid was only a few minutes late," said Hermione. "Look, he's

waving at you, Harry."

Harry looked up at the staff table and grinned at Hagrid, who was

indeed waving at him. Hagrid had never quite managed to comport

himself with the dignity of Professor McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor

House, the top of whose head came up to somewhere between Hagrid's

elbow and shoulder as they were sitting side by side, and who was

looking disapprovingly at this enthusiastic greeting. Harry was

surprised to see the Divination teacher, Professor Trelawney, sitting on

Hagrid's other side; she rarely left her tower room, and he had never

seen her at the start-of-term feast before. She looked as odd as ever,

glittering with beads and trailing shawls, her eyes magnified to

enormous size by her spectacles. Having always considered her a bit of

a fraud, Harry had been shocked to discover at the end of the previous

term that it had been she who had made the prediction that caused

Lord Voldemort to kill Harry's parents and attack Harry himself.

"Well she had to make a correct one sometime," said James, "however

much I wish the content was different."

The knowledge made him even less eager to find himself in her

company, thankfully, this year he would be dropping Divination. Her

great beaconlike eyes swivelled in his direction; he hastily looked away

toward the Slytherin table. Draco Malfoy was miming the shatter ring

of a nose to raucous laughter and applause. Harry dropped his gaze to

his treacle tart, his insides burning again. What he would give to fight

Malfoy one-on-one…

"At least Harry wants a fair fight," muttered Severus quietly, so not many

people heard, "unlike some parental figure who needs a guard dog to

protect him."

"So what did Professor Slughorn want?" Hermione asked.

"To know what really happened at the Ministry." said Harry.

"Him and everyone else here," sniffed Hermione. "People were

interrogating us about it on the train, weren't they, Ron?"

"Yeah," said Ron. "All wanting to know if you really are 'the Chosen

One' —"

"There has been much talk on that very subject even amongst the

ghosts," interrupted Nearly Headless Nick, inclining his barely

connected head toward Harry so that it wobbled dangerously on its

ruff. "I am considered something of a Potter authority; it is widely

known that we are friendly. I have assured the spirit community that I

will not pester you for information, however. 'Harry Potter knows that

he can confide in me with complete confidence,' I told them. 'I would

rather die than betray his trust.'"

"I didn't know it was possible to die twice," mused Alice.

"That's not saying much, seeing as you're already dead," Ron observed.

"Once again, you show all the sensitivity of a blunt axe," said Nearly

Headless Nick in affronted tones, and he rose into the air and glided

back toward the far end of the Gryffindor table just as Dumbledore got

to his feet at the staff table. The talk and laughter echoing around the

Hall died away almost instantly.

"The very best of evenings to you!" he said, smiling broadly, his arms

opened wide as though to embrace the whole room.

"What happened to his hand?" gasped Hermione.

She was not the only one who had noticed. Dumbledore's right hand

was as blackened and dead-looking as it had been on the night he had

come to fetch Harry from the Dursleys. Whispers it the room;

Dumbledore, interpreting them correctly, merely smiled and shook his

purple-and-gold sleeve over his injury.

"Apparently it didn't heal," said Regulus, who knew that a malignant, black,

dead limb was never a good thing, in fact it was the extreme opposite. The

tenseness around his brother's eyes showed a similar train of thought,

although Sirius had no real outward reaction to the observation. Severus

arched his eyebrow, which indicated shared observations.

"Nothing to worry about," he said airily. "Now… to our new students,

welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of

magical education awaits you…"

"His hand was like that when I saw him over the summer," Harry

whispered to Hermione. "I thought he'd have cured it by now,

though… or Madam Pomfrey would've done."

"It looks as if it's died," said Hermione, with a nauseated expression.

"But there are some injuries you can't cure… old curses… and there

are poisons without antidotes…"

Regulus felt like quirking an eyebrow, it seemed the time traveller next to

him was indeed rather intelligent, her 'past' self was right on the money and

followed the same train of thought as many of the others in the room,

including the headmaster himself.

"… and Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to say that there is a

blanket ban on any joke items bought at the shop called Weasleys'

Wizard Wheezes.

"Those wishing to play for their House Quidditch teams should give

their names to their Heads of House as usual. We are also looking for

new Quidditch commentators, who should do likewise.

"We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year, Professor

Slughorn"— Slughorn stood up, his bald head gleaming in the

candlelight, his big waistcoated belly casting the table into shadow —

"is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post of

Potions master."

"Potions?"

"Potions?"

The word echoed all over the Hall as people wondered wheel they had

heard right.

"Potions?" said Ron and Hermione together, turning to stare Harry.

"But you said —"

"I don't think he actually specified, like you he seemed to draw the same

conclusions regarding Professor Slughorn's subject," commented Frank.

"Professor Snape, meanwhile," said Dumbledore, raising voice so that

it carried over all the muttering, "will be taking the position of Defence

Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"If nothing else," said Lily, "I am glad that Severus is teaching the position,

because I doubt there would be anyone who knows more about the field or

how to fight the dark arts. This is very important considering the

circumstances of the time."

"I didn't realise there were such benefits to learning dark magic," said James

sarcastically, his views on dark magic despite being less vocal, clearly had

not changed much yet.

"No!" said Harry, so loudly that many heads turned in his direction. He

did not care; he was staring up at the staff table, incensed. How could

Snape be given the Defence Against the Dark Arts job after all this

time? Hadn't it been widely known for years that Dumbledore did not

trust him to do it?

"I think it might have been assumed, but I doubt Sev has given the

headmaster reason not to trust him with it, he was probably waiting for the

opportune moment," defended Lily.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, she wondered what reactions Lily would give

at the end of the book after Dumbledore's murder, it was be interesting and

probably very loud.

"But Harry, you said that Slughorn was going to be teaching Defense

Against the Dark Arts!" said Hermione.

"I thought he was!" said Harry, racking his brains to remember when

Dumbledore had told him this, but now that he came to think of it, he

was unable to recall Dumbledore ever telling him what Slughorn would

be teaching. Snape, who was sitting on Dumbledore's right, did not

stand up his mention of his name; he merely raised a hand in lazy

acknowledgment of the applause from the Slytherin table, yet Harry

was sure he could detect a look of triumph on the features he loathed so

much.

"Well, there's one good thing," he said savagely. "Snape'll be gone by

the end of the year."

"What do you mean?" asked Ron.

"That job's jinxed. No ones lasted more than a year… Quirrell actually

died doing it… Personally, I'm going to keep my fingers crossed for

another death…"

"Harry!" said Lily in shock, although she had reconciled herself to the fact

that her best friend in the future acted every inch the bastard to her son,

something which she was still deeply upset and angry about, it was hard to

deal with the fact that her son was wishing for the death of her newly-

reconciled best friend.

"Harry!" said Hermione, shocked and reproachful.

"He might just go back to teaching Potions at the end of the year," said

Ron reasonably. "That Slughorn bloke might not want to stay long-

term. Moody didn't."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were not

the only ones who had been talking; the whole Hall had erupted in a

buzz of conversation at the news that Snape had finally achieved his

heart's desire. Seemingly oblivious to the sensational nature of the news

he had just imparted, Dumbledore said nothing more about staff

appointments, but waited a few seconds to ensure that the silence was

absolute before continuing.

"Now, as everybody in this Hall knows, Lord Voldemort and his

followers are once more at large and gaining in strength."

The silence seemed to tauten and strain as Dumbledore spoke. Harry

glanced at Malfoy. Malfoy was not looking at Dumbledore, but making

his fork hover in midair with his wand, as though he found the

headmaster's words unworthy of his attention.

"I cannot emphasize strongly enough how dangerous the present

situation is, and how much care each of us at Hogwarts must take to

ensure that we remain safe. The castle's magical fortifications have

been strengthened over the summer, we are protected in new and more

powerful ways, but we must still guard scrupulously against

carelessness on the part of any student or member of staff. I urge you,

therefore, to abide by any security restrictions that you teachers might

impose upon you, however irksome you might find them — in

particular, the rule that you are not to be out of after hours. I implore

you, should you notice anything strange or suspicious within or outside

the castle, to report it to a member of staff immediately. I trust you to

conduct yourselves, always, with the utmost regard for your own and

others' safety."

Dumbledore's blue eyes swept over the students before he smiled once

more.

"But now, your beds await, as warm and comfortable as you could

possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well-rested for

your lessons tomorrow. Let us therefore say good night. Pip pip!"

With the usual deafening scraping noise, the benches moved back and

the hundreds of students began to file out of the Great Hall toward

their dormitories. Harry, who was in no hurry at all to leave with the

gawping crowd, nor to get near enough to Malfoy to allow him to retell

the story of the nose-stamping, lagged behind, pretending to retie the

lace on his trainer, allowing most of Gryffindors to draw ahead of him.

Hermione had darted ahead to fulfil her prefect's duty of shepherding

the first years, but Ron remained with Harry.

"What really happened to your nose?" he asked, once they were at the

very back of the throng pressing out of the Hall, and out of earshot of

anyone else.

Harry told him. It was a mark of the strength of their friendship that

Ron did not laugh.

"To his face anyway," said Severus.

"I saw Malfoy miming something to do with a nose," he said darkly.

"Yeah, well, never mind that," said Harry bitterly. "Listen to what he

was saying before he found out I was there…"

Harry had expected Ron to be stunned by Malfoys boasts. With what

Harry considered pure pigheadedness, however, Ron was unimpressed.

"Come on, Harry, he was just showing off for Parkinson… What kind

of mission would You-Know-Who have given him?"

"How d'you know Voldemort doesn't need someone at Hogwarts? It

wouldn't be the first —"

"Definitely not," said James, sending a look to Regulus, which the younger

Black pointedly ignored.

"I wish yeh'd stop sayin' tha name, Harry," said a reproachful voice

behind them. Harry looked over his shoulder to see Hagrid shaking his

head.

"Dumbledore uses that name," said Harry stubbornly

"Yeah, well, tha's Dumbledore, innit?" said Hagrid mysteriously. "So

how come yeh were late, Harry? I was worried."

"Got held up on the train," said Harry. "Why were you late?"

"I was with Grawp," said Hagrid happily. "Los' track o' the time. He's

got a new home up in the mountains now, Dumbledore fixed it — nice

big cave. He's much happier than he was in the forest. We were havin'

a good chat."

"As in Grawp can now speak coherent English, or did Hagrid talk and

Grawp sit there?" questioned Alice.

"Probably a bit of both," conceded Hermione.

"Seems you did well with him then... Hermy," teased Sirius. To which

Hermione scowled and suddenly what looked like a grand piano fell on

Sirius' head, though to the animagus' fortune it was only made out of

Styrofoam.

"It seems that puppy required some discipline," replied Hermione sweetly.

"Really?" said Harry, taking care not to catch Ron's eye; the last time

he had met Hagrid's half-brother, a vicious giant with a talent for

ripping up trees by the roots, his vocabulary had comprised five words,

two of which he was unable to pronounce properly.

"Oh yeah, he's really come on," said Hagrid proudly. "Yeh'll be

amazed. I'm thinkin' o' trainin' him up as me assistant."

Ron snorted loudly, but managed to pass it off as a violent sneeze. They

were now standing beside the oak front doors.

"Anyway, I'll see yeh tomorrow, firs' lesson's straight after lunch. Come

early an' yeh can say hello ter Buck — I mean, Witherwings!"

Raising an arm in cheery farewell, he headed out of the doors into the

darkness. Harry and Ron looked at each other. Harry could tell that

Ron was experiencing the same sinking feeling as himself.

"You're not taking Care of Magical Creatures, are you?"

Ron shook his head. "And you're not either, are you?"

Harry shook his head too.

"And Hermione," said Ron, "she's not, is she?"

Harry shook his head again. Exactly what Hagrid would say when he

realized his three favourite students had given up his subject, he did

not like to think.

"Poor Hagrid," said Lily sympathetically.

"Yes and that is the end of the chapter, which means it is Moony's turn to

read," sang Sirius.

"Well then why don't you give me the book?" asked Remus patiently.

"My pleasure," said Sirius with a grin, proceeding to whack his friend over

the head with the volume before dumping it in the werewolf's lap.

Remus then picked the book up and whacked Sirius back, "insolent puppy,

bad dog!" he scolded. He then opened the book to the right page and turned

the room, "so where were we?"

AN: Thanks for reading, please review! Cheers!

9. Chapter 9

The Half-Blood Prince

AN: Here is another chapter for your enjoyment. Before we go any further I

am obliged to make the usual disclaimer of the fact that I don't own

anything you can recognise. Thanks once again to those who have

reviewed, it was great hearing your thoughts on the story. Without any

further ado, happy reading! Cheers!

Remus looked down at the title, "It seems that we have reached the chapter

from which the book is named, The Half-Blood Prince," Remus looked a

bit confused though, "it is weird though, because there isn't any royalty as

such in the wizarding world."

Severus smirked slightly, he knew the meaning of the chapter, for obvious

reasons, anything to baffle the marauders was a good thing in his opinion.

Lily also looked rather smug as she too knew her friend's nickname.

"Well there is only one way to find out isn't there," said Dumbledore with a

twinkle in his eye.

Harry and Ron met Hermione in the common room before breakfast

next morning. Hoping for some support in his theory, Harry lost no

time in telling Hermione what he had overheard Malfoy saying on the

Hogwarts Express.

"But he was obviously showing off for Parkinson, wasn't he?"

interjected Ron quickly, before Hermione could say anything.

"Well," she said uncertainly, "I don't know… It would be like Malfoy

to make himself seem more important than he is… but that's a big lie to

tell…"

"Exactly," said Harry, but he could not press the point, because so

many people were trying to listen in to his conversation, not to mention

staring at him and whispering behind their hands.

"It's rude to point," Ron snapped at a particularly minuscule first-year

boy as they joined the queue to climb out of the portrait hole. The boy,

who had been muttering something about Harry behind his hand to his

friend, promptly turned scarlet and toppled out of the hole in alarm.

Ron sniggered. "I love being a sixth year. And we're going to be getting

free time this year. Whole periods when we can just sit up here and

relax."

"I don't think Mr Weasley quite understands the purpose of these free

periods," said Minerva with an arched eyebrow.

"We're going to need that time for studying, Ron!" said Hermione, as

they set off down the corridor.

"Yeah, but not today," said Ron. "Today's going to be a real loss, I

reckon."

"Hold it!" said Hermione, throwing out an arm and halting a passing

fourth year, who was attempting to push past her with a lime-green

disk clutched tightly in his hand. "Fanged Frisbees banned, hand it

over," she told him sternly.

The scowling boy handed over the snarling Frisbee, ducked under her

arm, and took off after his friends. Ron waited for him to vanish, then

tugged the Frisbee from Hermione's grip.

"Excellent, I've always wanted one of these."

"I don't think he quite understands the role of a prefect either," commented

Remus dryly. Sirius snorted, he knew that Remus (not just when he was

under the influence of the rest of them) did the same.

"I don't think you should take the rules to extremes either," said James, "a

student leader such as a prefect should be someone who is liked, willing not

to nitpick on the rules and is considered approachable by the students,

which makes them better mediators for problems than the professors."

Minerva unfortunately felt herself obliged to nod in agreement, as that was

one of the qualities that made James Potter such a good head boy, because

he was smart, a natural leader, but was always approachable to the students,

who felt comfortable going to him for problems.

Hermione's remonstration was drowned by a loud giggle; Lavender

Brown had apparently found Ron's remark highly amusing. She

continued to laugh as she passed them, glancing back at Ron over her

shoulder. Ron looked rather pleased with himself.

"Oooh!" cooed Alice.

"Love is in the air, doo doo doo, doo doo doo, love is in the air," sang Lily,

also recognising the signs of a female crush.

Hermione blushed, great! This meant that she would have to hear about

Lavander again! Mind you she didn't care so much now, she and Lavander

got on better before she left. The war seemed to have matured her, along

with everyone else and the near miss with Fenrir Greyback it seemed shook

a lot of sense into her.

The ceiling of the Great Hall was serenely blue and streaked with frail,

wispy clouds, just like the squares of sky visible through the high

mullioned windows. While they tucked into porridge and eggs and

bacon, Harry and Ron told Hermione about their embarassing

conversation with Hagrid the previous evening.

"But he can't really think we'd continue Care of Magical Creatures!"

she said, looking distressed. "I mean, when has any of us expressed…

you know… any enthusiasm?"

"That's it, though, innit?" said Ron, swallowing an entire fried egg

whole. "We were the ones who made the most effort in classes because

we like Hagrid. But he thinks we liked the stupid subject. D'ya reckon

anyone's going to go on to N.E.W.T.?"

"A few people did actually," said Hermione, "despite Hagrid's

unconventional teaching methods he got the class through well enough and

a few people went through and kept studying it, but unfortunately none of

us did."

Neither Harry nor Hermione answered; there was no need. They knew

perfectly well that nobody in their year would want to continue Care of

Magical Creatures. They avoided Hagrid's eye and returned his cheery

wave only half-heartedly when he left the staff table ten minutes later.

After they had eaten, they remained in their places, awaiting Professor

McGonagall's descent from the staff table. The distribution of class

schedules was more complicated than usual this year, for Professor

McGonagall needed first to confirm that everybody had achieved the

necessary O.W.L. grades to continue with their chosen N.E.W.T.s.

Hermione was immediately cleared to continue with Charms, Defence

Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology, Arithmancy,

Ancient Runes, and Potions, and shot off to a first period Ancient

Runes class without further ado.

"That is quite the schedule," commented Regulus.

"It isn't like you are doing much less though little brother," pointed out

Sirius, "so don't tease Mie!"

"I wasn't teasing you, I was teasing Hermione," replied Regulus.

Neville took a little longer to sort out; his round face was anxious as

Professor McGonagall looked down his application and then consulted

his O.W.L results.

"Herbology, fine," she said. "Professor Sprout will be delighted to see

you back with an 'Outstanding' O.W.L. And you qualify for Defense

Against the Dark Arts with 'Exceeds Expectations.' But the problem is

Transfiguration. I'm sorry, Longbottom, but an 'Acceptable' really

isn't good enough to continue to N.E.W.T. level. Just don't think you'd

be able to cope with the coursework."

Neville hung his head. Professor McGonagall peered at him through

her square spectacles.

"Why do you want to continue with Transfiguration, anyway? I've

never had the impression that you particularly enjoyed it."

"I can answer that one," said Frank, "I think, my mother has something to

do with it."

Neville looked miserable and muttered something about "my

grandmother wants."

"Hmph," snorted Professor McGonagall. "It's high time your

grandmother learned to be proud of the grandson she's got, rather

than the one she thinks she ought to have - particularly after what

happened at the Ministry."

"Well said Professor," cheered Alice.

Neville turned very pink and blinked confusedly; Professor

McGonagall had never paid him a compliment before.

"I'm sorry, Longbottom, but I cannot let you into my N.E.W.T. class. I

see that you have an 'Exceeds Expectations' in Charm however - why

not try for a N.E.W.T. in Charms?"

"My grandmother thinks Charms is a soft option," mumbled Neville.

Minerva snorted, if she remembered correctly Augusta failed her charms

OWL spectacularly, her test involved the escape of a giant opera singing

parakeet which was meant to be shrunk and charmed to tap-dance, the exam

had to be put on hold while the offending bird was captured and returned to

normal. It was a rather memorable exam.

"Take Charms," said Professor McGonagall, "and I shall drop Augusta

a line reminding her that just because she failed her Charms O.W.L.,

the subject is not necessarily worthless." Smiling slightly at the look of

delighted incredulity on Neville's face, Professor McGonagall tapped a

blank schedule with the tip of her wand and handed it, now carrying

details of his new classes, to Neville.

"My mother failed charms?" asked Frank incredulously, "she never told me

that! I'll have to ask her about it."

"If she declines answering than feel free to ask me, I remember the exam

rather clearly," said Minerva with a smile, which caused even more

incredulous looks to flow through the room.

Professor McGonagall turned next to Parvati Patil, whose first question

was whether Firenze, the handsome centaur, was still teaching

Divination.

"He and Professor Trelawney are dividing classes between them this

year," said Professor McGonagall, a hint of disapproval in her voice; it

was common knowledge that she despised the subject of Divination.

"The sixth year is being taken by Professor Trelawney."

Parvati set off for Divination five minutes later looking slightly

crestfallen.

"I thought she liked Trelawney," said James looking slightly confused.

"Honey," said Lily, "no matter how much they like Trelawney, for teenage

girls she will be no match for a handsome male centaur."

"So, Potter, Potter…" said Professor McGonagall, consulting her notes

as she turned to Harry. "Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts,

Herbology, Transfiguration… all fine. I must say, I was pleased with

your Transfiguration mark, Potter, very pleased. Now, why haven't you

applied to continue with Potions? I thought it was your ambition to

become an Auror?"

"It was, but you told me I had to get an 'Outstanding' in my O.W.L.,

Professor."

"And so you did when Professor Snape was teaching the subject.

Professor Slughorn, however, is perfectly happy to accept N.E.W.T.

students with 'Exceeds Expectations' at O.W.L. Do you wish to proceed

with Potions?"

"Yes," said Harry, "but I didn't buy the books or any ingredients or

anything-"

"I'm sure Professor Slughorn will be able to lend you some," said

Professor McGonagall.

"Very well, Potter, here is your schedule. Oh, by the way- twenty

hopefuls have already put down their names for the Gryffindor

Quidditch team. I shall pass the list to you in due course and you can

fix up trials at your leisure."

"That should be a good selection then," said James, "provided they can all

actually tell one end of the broom from another.

A few minutes later, Ron was cleared to do the same subjects as Harry,

and the two of them left the table together.

"Look," said Ron delightedly, gazing ar his schedule, "we've got a free

period now… and a free period after break… and after lunch…

excellent."

They returned to the common room, which was empty apart from a

half dozen seventh years, including Katie Bell, the only remaining

member of the original Gryffindor Quidditch team that Harry had

joined in his first year.

"I thought you'd get that, well done," she called over, pointing at the

Captains badge on Harry's chest. "Tell me when you call trials!"

"Don't be stupid," said Harry, "you don't need to try out, I watched

you play for five years…"

"You mustn't start off like that," she said warningly. "For all you know,

there's someone much better than me out there. Good teams have been

ruined before now because Captains just kept playing the old faces, or

letting in their friends…"

Ron looked a little uncomfortable and began playing with the Fanged

Frisbee Hermione had taken from the fourth-year student. It zoomed

around the common room, snarling and attempting to take bites of the

tapestry. Crookshanks's yellow eyes followed it and he hissed when it

came too close.

"Just like his owner," said James.

"I am not a cat," insisted Hermione.

"Perhaps, but since you are female you are probably able to have a hissing

fit worthy of one," joked James.

"Yes," drawled Hermione, "that probably explains why I like conjuring

canaries so much."

An hour later they reluctantly left the sunlit common room for the

Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom four floors below. Hermione

was already queuing outside, carrying an armful of heavy books and

looking put-upon.

"We got so much homework for Runes," she said anxiously when

Harry and Ron joined her. "A fifteen-inch essay, two translations, and

I've got to read these by Wednesday!"

"Got to or want to?" asked Sirius, he knew the workload of ancient runes

and that was not it.

"Shame," yawned Ron..

"You wait," she said resentfully. "I bet Snape gives us loads."

The classroom door opened as she spoke, and Snape stepped into the

corridor, his sallow face framed as ever by two curtains of greasy black

hair. Silence fell over the queue immediately.

"Inside," he said.

"Most Professors usually begin with 'hello' or 'welcome'", commented

Minerva sternly, future tragedies or not, she was not impressed by Professor

Snape's teaching habits, as demonstrated by the two previous books.

However she respected her senior colleague's judgement in the matter as

well as not wanting to be seen as unprofessional by the students and

reprimand someone for something they had yet to do.

Harry looked around as they entered. Snape had imposed his

personality upon the room already; it was gloomier than usual, as

curtains had been drawn over the windows, and was lit by candlelight.

New pictures adorned the walls, many of them showing people who

appeared to be in pain, sporting grisly injuries or strangely contorted

body parts. Nobody spoke as they settled down, looking around at the

shadowy, gruesome pictures.

"You aren't trying to ease them into it are you?" asked Sirius dryly,

"macabre much."

"I have not asked you to take out your books," said Snape, closing the

door and moving to face the class from behind his desk; Hermione

hastily dropped her copy of Confronting the Faceless back into her bag

and stowed it under her chair. "I wish to speak to you, and I want your

fullest attention."

His black eyes roved over their upturned faces, lingering for a fraction

of a second longer on Harry's than anyone else's.

"You have had five teachers in this subject so far, I believe."

You believe… like you haven't watched them all come and go, hoping

you'd be next, thought Harry scathingly.

"I don't think I would be particularly keen to be killed, captured or carted

off by a herd of centaurs, so it isn't something that would be waiting

anxiously to experience," replied Severus sarcastically.

"Naturally, these teachers will all have had their own methods and

priorities. Given this confusion I am surprised so many of you scraped

an O.W.L. in this subject.

"Well I'm not," said Minerva, her voice once again reflecting her dislike of

Snape's methods, "young Mr Potter proved to be an exemplary teacher, I

daresay the future Snape could almost do well to take a few leaves out of

Harry's book."

I shall be even more surprised if all of you manage to keep up with the

N.E.W.T. work, which will be more advanced."

Snape set off around the edge of the room, speaking now in a lower

voice; the class craned their necks to keep him in view. "The Dark

Arts," said Snape, "are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal.

Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time

a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before.

You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible."

Harry stared at Snape. It was surely one thing to respect the Dark Arts

as a dangerous enemy, another to speak of them, as Snape was doing,

with a loving caress in his voice?

"Your defences," said Snape, a little louder, "must therefore be as

flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo. These pictures" - he

indicated a few of them as he swept past - "give a fair representation of

what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse" -

he waved a hand toward a witch who was clearly shrieking in agony -

"feel the Dementor's Kiss" - a wizard lying huddled and blank-eyed,

slumped against a wall - "or provoke the aggression of the Inferius" - a

bloody mass upon ground.

"Did you take the pictures yourself during your exploits?" asked James, still

disgusted with the idea that people would become death eaters and use dark

magic and destroy people's lives just for kicks.

"Has an Inferius been seen, then?" said Parvati Patil in a high pitched

voice. "Is it definite, is he using them?"

"The Dark Lord has used Inferi in the past," said Snape, "which means

you would be well-advised to assume he might use them again. Now…"

He set off again around the other side of the classroom toward his desk,

and again, they watched him as he walked, his dark robes billowing

behind him.

"… you are, I believe, complete novices in the use of nonverbal spells.

What is the advantage of a nonverbal spell?"

Hermione's hand shot into the air. Snape took his time looking around

at everybody else, making sure he had no choice, before saying curtly,

"Very well - Miss Granger?"

"Please tell me that you don't recite the textbook," begged Lily.

"I can't do that," said Hermione.

"As much as I abhor Sev's future attitude, I truly do, I also know some of

his pet peeves: one is people who don't try and figure things out for

themselves or to quote him, "use what small portion of their brain which is

capable of independent thought," said Lily, "that is a one way ticket to

annoy him, which I used to enjoy because we would then be able to spend

summers editing potions books and making corrections and creating spells."

"Your adversary has no warning about what kind of magic you're

about to perform," said Hermione, "which gives you a split-second

advantage."

"An answer copied almost word for word from The Standard Book of

Spells, Grade Six," said Snape dismissively (over in the corner, Malfoy

sniggered), "but correct in essentials. Yes, those who progress in using

magic without shouting incantations gain an element of surprise in

their spell-casting. Not all wizards can do this, of course; it is a question

of concentration and mind power which some" - his gaze lingered

maliciously upon Harry once more - "lack."

"Someone seems to be having a go at a certain Pup," commented Sirius

pointedly.

Harry knew Snape was thinking of their disastrous Occlumency lessons

of the previous year. He refused to drop his gaze, but glowered at Snape

until Snape looked away.

"You will now divide," Snape went on, "into pairs. One partner will

attempt to jinx the other without speaking. The other will attempt to

repel the jinx in equal silence. Carry on."

"Shouldn't you explain that a bit better?" asked Frank.

"Shouldn't you actually explain it?" added Alice bluntly.

Although Snape did not know it, Harry had taught at least half the

class (everyone who had been a member of the D.A.) how to perform a

Shield Charm the previous year. None of them had ever cast the charm

without speaking, however. A reasonable amount of cheating ensued;

many people were merely whispering the incantation instead of saying

it aloud. Typically, ten minutes into the lesson Hermione managed to

repel Neville's muttered Jelly-Legs Jinx without uttering a single word,

a feat that would surely have earned her twenty points for Gryffindor

from any reasonable teacher, thought Harry bitterly, but which Snape

ignored.

"I still haven't forgiven your future self for that," teased Hermione.

He swept between them as they practiced, looking just as much like an

overgrown bat as ever, lingering to watch Harry and Ron struggling

with the task. Ron, who was supposed to be jinxing Harry, was purple

in the face, his lips tightly compressed to save himself from the

temptation of muttering the incantation. Harry had his wand raised,

waiting on tenterhooks to repel a jinx that seemed unlikely ever to

come.

"It is tough the first time," sympathised Lily.

"Especially when no one explains what they are actually meant to do,"

added James pointedly.

"Pathetic, Weasley," said Snape, after a while. "Here — let me show

you —"

He turned his wand on Harry so fast that Harry reacted instinctively;

all thought of nonverbal spells forgotten, he yelled, "Protego!"

"Better than nothing, but it probably won't impress the vicious jury," said

Regulus.

His Shield Charm was so strong Snape was knocked off-balance and hit

a desk. The whole class had looked around and now watched as Snape

righted himself, scowling.

"Do you remember me telling you we are practicing nonverbal spells,

Potter?"

"Yes," said Harry stiffly.

"Yes, sir."

"There's no need to call me 'sir,' Professor."

Everyone cracked up at that, Severus and the professors included.

"I applaud you," said Sirius, "Prongs, your son is a true Gryffindor and

marauder!"

"My pleasure!"

"That was such a cheeky Lily thing to say," added Alice between giggles, "I

always said when you two procreate the world better watch out, and lookie

here, I was right!"

The words had escaped him before he knew what he was saying.

Several people gasped, including Hermione. Behind Snape, however,

Ron, Dean, and Seamus grinned appreciatively.

"Detention, Saturday night, my office," said Snape. "I do not take

cheek from anyone, Potter… not even 'the Chosen One.'"

"That was brilliant, Harry!" chortled Ron, once they were safely on

their way to break a short while later.

"It truly was," said James, "I love our son..."

"Indeed," said Lily wickedly, "he's following his father's footsteps and

annoying Sniv- I mean Severus."

"You are an evil, evil woman Lily Evans," said Snape shaking his head.

"You really shouldn't have said it," said Hermione, frowning at Ron.

"What made you?"

"Plenty of courage which lacked any semblance of cognitive function,"

supplied Lily with a grin, which showed she was teasing.

"He's your son," pointed out Frank.

"He tried to jinx me, in case you didn't notice!" fumed Harry. "I had

enough of that during those Occlumency lessons! Why doesn't he use

another guinea pig for a change? What's Dumbledore playing at,

anyway, letting him teach Defence? Did you hear him talking about the

Dark Arts? He loves them! All that unfixed, indestructble stuff —"

"Well," said Hermione, "I thought he sounded a bit like you."

"How?" asked James.

"That will shut him up in any case," said Frank.

"Like me?"

"Yes, when you were telling us what it's like to face Voldemort. You said

it wasn't just memorizing a bunch of spells, you said it was just you and

your brains and your guts - well, wasn't that what Snape was saying?

That it really comes down to being brave and quick-thinking?"

Harry was so disarmed that she had thought his words as well worth

memorizing as The Standard Book of Spells that he did not argue.

"The highest compliment Mie can pay someone, I am sure," said Sirius.

"You bet," retorted Hermione, "which is why I will never quote you."

"Harry! Hey, Harry!"

Harry looked around; Jack Sloper, one of the Beaters on last year's

Gryffindor Quidditch team, was hurrying toward him holding a roll of

parchment.

"For you," panted Sloper. "Listen, I heard you're the new Captain.

When're you holding trials?"

"I'm not sure yet," said Harry, thinking privately that Sloper would be

very lucky to get back on the team.

"I'll let you know."

"Oh, right. I was hoping it'd be this weekend —"

But Harry was not listening; he had just recognized the thin, slanting

writing on the parchment. Leaving Sloper in mid-sentence, he hurried

away with Ron and Hermione, unrolling the parchment as he went.

Dear Harry,

I would like to start our private lessons this Saturday.

Kindly come along to my office at 8 P.M. I hope you are enjoying your

first day back at school.

Yours sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

P.S. I enjoy Acid Pops.

"Sweet," said James.

"That is good," said Alice, "it means that Lily's curiosity won't have to go

much longer without being sated."

"My curiosity?" asked Lily, "How dare you pin it all on me! You are just as

curious as I am, Alice Smith!"

"He enjoys Acid Pops?" said Ron, who had read the message over

Harry's shoulder and was looking perplexed.

"It's the password to get past the gargoyle outside his study," said

Harry in a low voice. "Ha! Snape's not going to be pleased… I won't be

able to do his detention!"

"That's convenient."

He, Ron, and Hermione spent the whole of break speculating on what

Dumbledore would teach Harry. Ron thought it most likely to be

spectacular jinxes and hexes of the type the Death Eaters would not

know. Hermione said such things were illegal, and thought it much

more likely that Dumbledore wanted to teach Harry advanced

Defensive magic.

"Any guesses Professor?" asked Frank, "after all you are the teacher."

"Even if I know, I am more than happy to let the suspense build for the

moment," said Albus serenely.

After break, she went off to Arithmancy while Harry and Ron returned

to the common room where they grudgingly started Snape's homework.

This turned out to be so complex that they still had not finished when

Hermione joined them for their after-lunch free period (though she

considerably speeded up the process).

"They underestimated themselves," said Hermione, "Harry did fine with it,

he just tried to make it harder than it had to be, trying to find hidden

catches, his defence work continued to be exemplary."

They had only just finished when the bell rang for the afternoon's

double Potions and they beat the familiar path down to the dungeon

classroom that had, for so long, been Snape's. When they arrived in the

corridor they saw that there were only a dozen people progressing to

N.E.W.T. level. Crabbe and Goyle had evidently failed to achieve the

required O.W.L. grade, but four Slytherins had made it through,

including Malfoy. Four Ravenclaws were there, and one Hufflepuff,

Ernie Macmillan, whom Harry liked despite his rather pompous

manner.

"I still can't get over how small the classes are," said Lily, "we have 100 in

our grade, and probably half continued with potions, which is still about

50."

"The smaller population is a testament to the war I think, the sheer numbers

that were killed or fled decreased, and who wants to have children in a war,

a few years below it starts building up again, as there was a post-war baby

boom, but still coming from a muggle school the small sizes are a bit

bizarre," commented Hermione.

"Harry," Ernie said portentously, holding out his hand as Harry

approached, "didn't get a chance to speak in Defence Against The

Dark Arts this morning. Good lesson, I thought, but Shield Charms are

old hat, of course, for us old D.A. lags… And how are you, Ron —

Hermione?"

Before they could say more than "fine," the dungeon door opened and

Slughorn's belly preceded him out of the door. As they filed into the

room, his great walrus mustache curved above his beaming mouth, and

he greeted Harry and Zabini with particular enthusiasm.

The dungeon was, most unusually, already full of vapors and odd

smells. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sniffed interestedly as they passed

large, bubbling cauldrons. The four Slytherins took a table together, as

did the four Ravenclaws. This left Harry, Ron, and Hermione to share

a table with Ernie. They chose the one nearest a gold-coloured cauldron

that was emitting one of the most seductive scents Harry had ever

inhaled:

"Amortenia," guessed Alice.

Somehow it reminded him simultaneously of treacle tart, the woody

smell of a broomstick handle, and something flowery he thought he

might have smelled at the Burrow.

"That is similar to what I smell," said James, "the broomstick thing must

run in the family."

He found that he was breathing very slowly and deeply and that the

potion's fumes seemed to be filling him up like drink. A great

contentment stole over him; he grinned across at Ron, who grinned

back lazily.

"Now then, now then, now then," said Slughorn, whose massive outline

was quivering through the many shimmering vapors. "Scales out,

everyone, and potion kits, and don't forget your copies of Advanced

Potion-Making…"

"Sir?" said Harry, raising his hand.

"Harry, m'boy?"

"I haven't got a book or scales or anything — nor's Ron — we didn't

realize we'd be able to do the N.E.W.T., you see —"

"Ah, yes, Professor McGonagall did mention… not to worry, my dear

boy, not to worry at all. You can use ingredients from the store

cupboard today, and I'm sure we can lend you some scales, and we've

got a small stock of old books here, they'll do until you can write to

Flourish and Blotts…" Slughorn strode over to a corner cupboard and,

after a moment's foraging, emerged with two very battered-looking

copies of Advanced Potion-Making by Libatius Borage, which he gave

to Harry and Ron along with two sets of tarnished scales.

"Now then," said Slughorn, returning to the front of the class and

inflating his already bulging chest so that the buttons on his waistcoat

threatened to burst off, "I've prepared a few potions for you to have a

look at, just out of interest, you know. These are the kind of thing you

ought to be able to make after completing your N.E.W.T.s. You ought to

have heard of 'em, even if you haven't made 'em yet. Anyone tell me

what this one is?"

He indicated the cauldron nearest the Slytherin table. Harry raised

himself slighty in his seat and saw what looked like plain water boiling

away inside it.

Lily looked like she wanted to say, but James stopped her, "Moony aside I

think we have all done advanced potions, so we don't need a fill in lesson

right now, unless you would like me to start the history of quidditch again."

"I might stay quiet," decided Lily, "besides Mie will tell us the answers."

Hermione's well-practiced hand hit the air before anybody else's;

Slughorn pointed at her.

"It's Veritaserum, a colourless, odourless potion that forces the drinker

to tell the truth," said Hermione.

"Very good, very good!" said Slughorn happily. "Now," he continued,

pointing at the cauldron nearest the Ravenclaw table, "this one here is

pretty well known… Featured in a few Ministry leaflets lately too…

Who can —?"

Hermione's hand was fastest once more.

"lt's Polyjuice Potion, sir," she said.

Harry too had recognized the slow-bubbling, mudlike substance the

second cauldron, but did not resent Hermione getting the credit for

answering the question; she, after all, was the one who had succeeded

in making it, back in their second year.

"Harry did help," admitted Hermione, "I am happy to share the spotlight

with him. He did most of the work prepping the ingredients, he has never

had any trouble with that, his technique is very good, he just makes silly

errors in the actual brewing."

"Excellent, excellent! Now, this one here… yes, my dear?" said

Slughorn, now looking slightly bemused, as Hermione's hand punched

the air again.

"It's Amortentia!"

"Someone's enthusiastic."

"It is indeed. It seems almost foolish to ask," said Slughorn, who was

looking mightily impressed, "but I assume you know what it does?"

"It's the most powerful love potion in the world!" said Hermione.

"Quite right! You recognized it, I suppose, by its distinctive mother-of-

pearl sheen?"

"And the steam rising in characteristic spirals," said Hermione

enthusiastically, "and it's supposed to smell differently to each of

according to what attracts us, and I can smell freshly mown grass and

new parchment and -"

But she turned slightly pink and did not complete the sentence.

"Do you want to finish that sentence, Mie?" asked Sirius slyly.

"Nope," said Hermione, "unless you want to profess your true love's

signature scent."

"May I ask your name, my dear?" said Slughorn, ignoring Hermione's

embarrassment.

"Hermione Granger, sir."

"Granger? Granger? Can you possibly be related to Hector Dagworth-

Granger, who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?"

"No. I don't think so, sir. I'm Muggle-born, you see."

Harry saw Malfoy lean close to Nott and whisper something; both of

them sniggered, but Slughorn showed no dismay; on the contrary, he

beamed and looked from Hermione to Harry, who was sitting next to

her.

"Oho! 'One of my best friends is Muggle-born, and she's the best in our

year!' I'm assuming this is the very friend of whom you spoke, Harry?"

"Yes, sir," said Harry.

"Well, well, take twenty well-earned points for Gryffindor, Miss

Granger," said Slughorn genially.

Malfoy looked rather as he had done the time Hermione had punched

him in the face.

"That is a good memory, and a very good face if I recall correctly," smirked

Hermione.

Hermione turned to Harry with a radiant expression and whispered,

"Did you really tell him I'm the best in the year? Oh, Harry!"

"Well, what's so impressive about that?" whispered Ron, who for some

reason looked annoyed. "You are the best in the year — I'd've told him

so if he'd asked me!"

"Ah," cooed Alice, "does someone want some of Mie's attention?"

Hermione smiled but made a "shhing" gesture, so that they could hear

what Slughorn was saying. Ron looked slightly disgruntled.

"Amortentia doesn't really create love, of course. It is impossible to

manufacture or imitate love. No, this will simply cause a powerful

infatuation or obsession. It is probably the most dangerous and

powerful potion in this room — oh yes," he said, nodding gravely at

Malfoy and Nott, both of whom were smirking sceptically. "When you

have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the

power of obsessive love."

"And now," said Slughorn, "it is time for us to start work."

"Sir, you haven't told us what's in this one," said Ernie Macmillan,

pointing at a small black cauldron standing on Slughorn's desk. The

potion within was splashing about merrily; it was the colour of molten

gold, and large drops were leaping like goldfish above the surface,

though not a particle had spilled.

"I think he did that on purpose," said Sirius, "Sluggy likes his theatrics."

"Oho," said Slughorn again. Harry was sure that Slughorn had not

forgotten the potion at all, but had waited to be asked for dramatic

effect.

"Yes. That. Well, that one, ladies and gentlemen, is a most curious little

potion called Felix Felicis. I take it," he turned, smiling, to look at

Hermione, who had let out an audible gasp, "that you know what Felix

Felicis does, Miss Granger?"

"It's liquid luck," said Hermione excitedly. "It makes you lucky!"

"Is it the prize for the best potion like usual?" asked Sirius. Hermione

nodded.

"Who won it in your classes?" asked Hermione curiously, assuming

probably Severus.

"Lily won it in our group," said Sirius.

"No offence Lily," said Hermione, "I assumed Severus would have."

"I probably would have, but my NEWT potion partner was sub-standard,

which meant I was constantly checking to make sure he wouldn't do

anything which would cause his cauldron to explode and kill me," said

Severus, clearly not impressed, "but Lily deserved it anyway."

"I learnt it all from you though," pointed out Lily, "spending our childhoods

and summer holidays with potion books helped a lot. You are clearly better

in potions, namely because I prefer charms to potions."

The whole class seemed to sit up a little straighter. Now all Harry could

see of Malfoy was the back of his sleek blond head, because he was at

last giving Slughorn his full and undivided attention.

"Quite right, take another ten points for Gryffindor. Yes, it's a funny

little potion, Felix Felicis," said Slughorn. "Desperately tricky to make,

and disastrous to get wrong. However, if brewed correctly, as this has

been, you will find that all your endeavours tend to succeed… at least

until the effects wear off."

"Why don't people drink it all the time, sir?" said Terry Boot eagerly.

"Because if taken in excess, it causes giddiness, recklessness, and

dangerous overconfidence," said Slughorn. "Too much of a good thing,

you know… highly toxic in large quantities. But taken sparingly and

very occasionally…"

"And like all drugs and potions, it loses its potency if taken in large

quantities rendering the body immune to its effects, which is very

dangerous as people will take on idiotic and dangerous tasks which they are

incapable of doing resulting in carnage," said Severus.

"Have you ever taken it, sir?" asked Michael Corner with great

interest.

"Twice in my life," said Slughorn. "Once when I was twenty-four, once

when I was fifty-seven. Two tablespoonfuls taken with breakfast. Two

perfect days." He gazed dreamily into the distance. Whether he was

playacting or not, thought Harry, the effect was good.

"And that," said Slughorn, apparently coming back to earth, "is what I

shall be offering as a prize in this lesson."

There was silence in which every bubble and gurgle of the surrounding

potions seemed magnified tenfold.

"One tiny bottle of Felix Felicis," said Slughorn, taking a minuscule

glass bottle with a cork in it out of his pocket and showing it to them

all. "Enough for twelve hours' luck. From dawn till dusk, you will be

lucky in everything you attempt. Now, I must give you warning that

Felix Felicis is a banned substance in organized competitions…

sporting events, for instance, examinations, or elections. So the winner

is to use it on an ordinary day only… and watch how that ordinary day

becomes extraordinary!"

"Perhaps if you tried harder in potions Prongs, we would have been saved a

year of misery and Lily-pining," teased Sirius.

"He would have needed more than luck, a personality transplant perhaps

which is not something even Felix is capable of," retorted Lily, however the

remark was softened by the fact she pulled up James' hand to her lips and

kissed it tenderly.

"So," said Slughorn, suddenly brisk, "how are you to win this fabulous

prize? Well, by turning to page ten of Advanced Potion Making. We

have a little over an hour left to us, which should be time for you to

make a decent attempt at the Draught of Living Death. I know it is

more complex than anything you have attempted before, and I do not

expect a perfect potion from anybody. The person who does best,

however, will win little Felix here. Off you go!"

There was a scraping as everyone drew their cauldrons toward them

and some loud clunks as people began adding weights to their scales,

but nobody spoke. The concentration within the room was almost

tangible. Harry saw Malfoy riffling feverishly through his copy of

Advanced Potion-Making. It could not have been clearer that Malfoy

really wanted that lucky day. Harry bent swiftly over the tattered book

Slughorn had lent him.

To his annoyance he saw that the previous owner had scribbled all over

the pages, so that the margins were as black as the printed portions.

Lily and Severus looked thoughtful, obviously wondering if it was their old

potion book.

Bending low to decipher the ingredients (even here, the previous owner

had made annotations and crossed things out) Harry hurried off

toward the store cupboard to find what he needed. As he dashed back

to his cauldron, he saw Malfoy cutting up Valerian roots as fast as he

could.

Everyone kept glancing around at what the rest of the class was doing;

this was both an advantage and a disadvantage of Potions, that it was

hard to keep your work private. Within ten minutes, the whole place

was full of bluish steam. Hermione, of course, seemed to have

progressed furthest. Her potion already resembled the "smooth, black

currant-coloured liquid" mentioned as the ideal halfway stage.

"Your good," said Lily.

"I'd already studied the recipes in the first few chapters before class that

way I knew what to expect and how to do everything instantly and could be

prepared," said Hermione.

"Did you make alterations to the recipe?" asked Lily curiously, "if you take

the time to study them like you do, it seems to be the natural reaction,

because spending that long you would probably be able to spot the flaws in

the recipe and make alterations."

Hermione shook her head.

Having finished chopping his roots, Harry bent low over his book

again. It was really very irritating, having to try and decipher the

directions under all the stupid scribbles of the previous owner, who for

some reason had taken issue with the order to cut up the sopophorous

bean and had written in the alternative instruction: Crush with flat

side of silver dagger, releases juice better than cutting.

Lily looked triumphant, she was right, Harry got Snape's copy of their

annotated potions book.

"Sir, I think you knew my grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy?" Harry

looked up; Slughorn was just passing the Slytherin table.

"Yes," said Slughorn, without looking at Malfoy, "I was sorry to hear

he had died, although of course it wasn't unexpected, dragon pox at his

age…"

And he walked away. Harry bent back over his cauldron, smirking. He

could tell that Malfoy had expected to be treated like Harry or Zabini;

perhaps even hoped for some preferential treatment of the type he had

learned to expect from Snape. It looked as though Malfoy would have

to rely on nothing but talent to win the bottle of Felix Felicis. The

sopophorous bean was proving very difficult to cut up. Harry turned to

Hermione.

"Can I borrow your silver knife?"

"Yay!" said Lily, "he is going to use the other instructions. I am so happy!"

She nodded impatiently, not taking her eyes off her potion, which was

still deep purple, though according to the book ought to be turning a

light shade of lilac by now.

Harry crushed his bean with the flat side of the dagger. To his

astonishment, it immediately exuded so much juice he was amazed the

shrivelled bean could have held it all. Hastily scooping it all into the

cauldron he saw, to his surprise, that the potion immediately turned

exactly the shade of lilac described by the textbook.

His annoyance with the previous owner vanishing on the spot, Harry

now squinted at the next line of instructions. According the book, he

had to stir counter-clockwise until the potion turned clear as water.

According to the addition the previous owner made, however, he ought

to add a clockwise stir after every seventh counter-clockwise stir. Could

the old owner be right twice?

"Yeah, I'd say so," said Sirius, "Lily does that a lot too, it helps to aerate the

potion and can speed up the process, but it has to be done at precisely the

right time, which is why I never do it, because I can never be arsed to work

out the arithmacy to the stirs."

Harry stirred counter-clockwise, held his breath, and stirred once

clockwise. The effect was immediate. The potion turned pale pink.

"How are you doing that?" demanded Hermione, who was redfaced

and whose hair was growing bushier and bushier in the fumes from her

cauldron; her potion was still resolutely purple.

"I was feeling rather annoyed that point," conceded Hermione.

"Add a clockwise stir —"

"No, no, the book says counter-clockwise!" she snapped.

"Hate to break it to you Hermione, but books are not always right, like in

cooking in potions there are many ways of achieving the same results,

however some are better than others," said Severus.

Harry shrugged and continued what he was doing. Seven stirs

counterdockwise, one clockwise, pause… seven stirs counterclockwise,

one stir clockwise…

Across the table, Ron was cursing fluently under his breath; his potion

looked like liquid licorice.

"How on earth do

"How on earth do you manage that?" asked James.

"Apart from sticking Moony in front of a cauldron?" asked Sirius, "no idea,

and quite frankly I don't particularly care."

Harry glanced around. As far as he could see, no one else's potion had

turned as pale as his. He felt elated, something that had certainly never

happened before in this dungeon.

"I'm so proud of him," said Lily, "although if someone encouraged him,

Harry would be excelling in potions before now."

"And time's… up!" called Slughorn. "Stop stirring, please!"

Slughorn moved slowly among the tables, peering into cauldrons. He

made no comment, but occasionally gave the potions a stir or a sniff. At

last he reached the table where Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ernie were

sitting. He smiled ruefully at the tarlike substance in Ron's cauldron.

He passed over Ernie's navy concoction. Hermione's potion he gave an

approving nod. Then he saw Harry's, and a look of incredulous delight

spread over his face.

"The clear winner!" he cried to the dungeon. "Excellent, excellent,

Harry! Good lord, it's clear you've inherited your mother's talent. She

was a dab hand at Potions, Lily was! Here you are, then, here you are

— one bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised, and use it well!"

Lily was so happy that her son won. She only felt bad that it had taken him

that long to do it, if she had survived, she would have been alive to teach

him the little handy hints and explain them to him, rather than have him

learn them through a second hand potion book. If he continued to use the

book and successfully pull off all the potions in it she would be very

impressed, after all she knew that some of the alterations while more

effective, made the potion significantly harder.

Harry slipped the tiny bottle of golden liquid into his inner pocket,

feeling an odd combination of delight at the furious looks on the

Slytherins' faces and guilt at the disappointed expression on

Hermione's. Ron looked simply dumbfounded.

"Why are you disappointed?" asked Lily.

"I always work hard to be the best, and it appeared that Harry was

succeeding without even trying, it made me slightly jealous," admitted

Hermione.

"How did you do that?" he whispered to Harry as they left the

dungeon.

"Got lucky, I suppose," said Harry, because Malfoy was within earshot.

Once they were securely ensconced at the Gryffindor table for dinner,

however, he felt safe enough to tell them. Hermione's face became

stonier with every word he uttered.

"I s'pose you think I cheated?" he finished, aggravated by her

expression.

"Well, it wasn't exactly your own work, was it?" she said stiffly.

"But the instruction in the book aren't your own work either," said James

defending his son.

"He only followed different instructions to ours," said Ron, "Could've

been a catastrophe, couldn't it? But he took a risk and it paid off." He

heaved a sigh. "Slughorn could've handed me that book, but no, I get

the one no one's ever written on. Puked on, by the look of page fifty-

two, but —"

"Hang on," said a voice close by Harry's left ear and he caught a

sudden waft of that flowery smell he had picked up in Slughorn's

dungeon.

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

He looked around and saw that Ginny had joined them. "Did I hear

right? You've been taking orders from something someone wrote in a

book, Harry?"

She looked alarmed and angry. Harry knew what was on her mind at

once.

"It's nothing," he said reassuringly, lowering his voice. "It's not like,

you know, Riddle's diary. It's just an old textbook someone's scribbled

on."

"But you're doing what it says?"

"I just tried a few of the tips written in the margins, honestly, Ginny,

there's nothing funny -"

"Ginny's got a point," said Hermione, perking up at once.

"Why are you so happy, shouldn't you be worried that he might be being

possessed?" asked Regulus pointedly.

Hermione flushed slightly in response.

"We ought to check that there's nothing odd about it. I mean, all these

funny instructions, who knows?"

"Hey!" said Harry indignantly, as she pulled his copy of Advanced

Potion-Making out of his bag and raised her wand. "Specialis Revelio!"

she said, rapping it smartly on the front cover. Nothing whatsoever

happened. The book simply lay there, looking old and dirty and dog-

eared.

"Finished?" said Harry irritably. "Or d'you want to wait and see if it

does a few backflips?"

"It seems all right," said Hermione, still staring at the book

suspiciously. "I mean, it really does seem to be… just a textbook."

"An awesome textbook by the sounds of it, but a textbook none the less,"

said James.

"Good. Then I'll have it back," said Harry, snatching it off the table,

but it slipped from his hand and landed open on the floor.

Nobody else was looking. Harry bent low to retrieve the book, and as

he did so, he saw something scribbled along the bottom of the back

cover in the same small, cramped handwriting as the instructions that

had won him his bottle of Felix Felicis, now safely hidden inside a pair

of socks in his trunk upstairs.

This book is the property of the Half Blood Prince.

"So the half-blood Prince is obviously a person," said Frank, "any ideas."

Lily was wondering if she gave it away her joy at Harry inheriting the book,

but it seemed that they were all still all in the dark, Severus aside.

"I don't know who it belongs to, but the euphemism itself does give a few

clues," said Regulus, "it is someone who is half-blood obviously and

somehow related to the Prince family, which is a respected pure-blood line,

despite what Mother says about it. What we don't know is when in the

timeline this person existed, so it could be anyone from the inception of the

prince family a few centuries ago up until a student a year or two above

Mie."

"You obviously know, don't you Mie," said Sirius giving Hermione a grin.

"Yes, but no matter the cuteness of the puppy dog eyes I am not going to

tell you!"

"Worth a shot," shrugged Sirius.

"What do you think of Harry using the book though?" asked Frank,

"because I can see where Hermione is coming from, Harry is using

someone else's knowledge which is giving him an unfair advantage over

everyone else."

"But even so, who would give up the book, it is probably has some

awesome stuff in it," pointed out James.

"Well I think he should use it!" said Lily staunchly.

"I would have pegged you as the opposite, with your love of authority

figures and rules, Lily," commented Frank.

"Perhaps," said Lily, thinking about how to word her answer without giving

away who wrote the book, "but one of the things I have always done is

annotating recipes and potions, in those potions I have reached many of the

same alterations myself. If I was alive, I would take pleasure in teaching

potions to my son and passing on my knowledge to him. If Harry gets the

chance to learn these things through the book, I think he should take every

opportunity to do so. My only regret is that I am not the one who gets to

teach him."

Hermione felt tears form in her eyes at that. She always knew that Harry

was always looking for a connection with his parents, Lily especially since

he had flying in common with James. In her jealously she never saw how

much this book meant to Harry and how it was able to forge a connection

between him and his mother, something which he longed for. She felt guilty

for trying to undermine that connection and take it away from him.

"You alright?" asked Regulus quietly. Hermione nodded.

"Yeah, just feeling a touch homesick, missing Harry and what not," said

Hermione half-truthfully.

"Are you ready to read Hermione?" asked Remus, "or would you like to

take a break?"

"I'll be right," said Hermione, "though I am admittedly getting a bit peckish,

so perhaps we should have dinner after this next chapter?"

"What are we waiting for?" asked Lily, "full steam ahead, I want to hear

more about my son."

AN: Thanks for reading, please review! Cheers!

10. Chapter 10

The House of Gaunt

AN: Here is another chapter. Thank you for the reviews, it is great to hear

people's opinions about my writing. Once again I must remark that I own

nothing you can recognise, cool? I hope you all enjoy this next chapter.

Happy Reading! Cheers!

"This will be an interesting chapter," noted Hermione looking at the title, "it

is called The House of Gaunt."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.

"Aren't the Gaunts that pureblood family that was cuckoo?" asked James.

"Astute as ever Potter," commented Regulus, "but yes, the Gaunts were the

descendants of Salazar Slytherin, but were dirt poor and rather touched in

the head. However unless I am mistaken one of them married into our

family at one stage, which means that like it or not, we are related to them."

"So that is where Mother get's it from," said Sirius, "mind you considering

who your mother is Prongs, it is highly likely that you are related to that

house as well, which could explain your irrational behaviour at times

"Ah pure-blood relations, it is like a sordid soap opera, only slightly more

incestuous," said Hermione, "shall I continue?"

For or the rest of the week's Potions lessons Harry continued to follow

the Half-Blood Prince's instructions wherever they deviated from

Libatius Borage's, with the result that by their fourth lesson Slughorn

was raving about Harrys abilities, saying that he had rarely taught

anyone so talented. Neither Ron nor Hermione was delighted by this.

Although Harry had offered to share his book with both of them, Ron

had more difficulty deciphering the handwriting than Harry did, and

could not keep asking Harry to read aloud or it might look suspicious.

Hermione, meanwhile, was resolutely plowing on with what she called

the "official" instructions, but becoming increasingly bad-tempered as

they yielded poorer results than the Prince's.

"This is another one of those moments when it is quite bizarre to be reading

about myself," commented Hermione

Severus however couldn't help but smirk, it was always gratifying to know

that you were better than someone.

Harry wondered vaguely who the Half-Blood Prince had been.

Although the amount of homework they had been given prevented him

from reading the whole of his copy of Advanced Potion-Making, he had

skimmed through it sufficiently to see that there was barely a page on

which the Prince had not made additional notes, not all of them

concerned with potion-making. Here and there were directions for

what looked like spells that the Prince had made up himself.

Lily felt like coughing, she was an active contributor to the spells thank you

very much!

"Or herself," said Hermione irritably, overhearing Harry pointing

some of these out to Ron in the common room on Saturday evening. "It

might have been a girl. I think the handwriting looks more like a girl's

than a boy's."

"The Half-Blood Prince, he was called," Harry said. "How many girls

have been Princes?"

"It is a last name," said Alice, "so probably at least fifty percent of that

family."

Hermione seemed to have no answer to this. She merely scowled and

twitched her essay on The Principles of Rematerialization away from

Ron, who was trying to read it upside down. Harry looked at his watch

and hurriedly put the old copy of Advanced Potion-Making back into

his bag.

"It's five to eight, I'd better go, I'll be late for Dumbledore."

"Oh goodie," said Lily, "I am insanely curious about what my son is going

to learn about."

Sirius cocked his head to like side, much like his animal counterpart would

do, "you don't look insane," he remarked dryly, "although I guess the fact

you are willing dating Prongs and will have his babies is a strong argument

for your original deduction regarding your sanity."

"Padfoot, shut up," said James casually.

"Ooooh!" gasped Hermione, looking up at once. "Good luck! We'll wait

up, we want to hear what he teaches you!"

"Hope it goes okay," said Ron, and the pair of them watched Harry

leave through the portrait hole.

Harry proceeded through deserted corridors, though he had to step

hastily behind a statue when Professor Trelawney appeared around a

corner, muttering to herself as she shuffled a pack of dirty-looking

playing cards, reading them as she walked.

"Two of spades: conflict," she murmured, as she passed the place where

Harry crouched, hidden. "Seven of spades: an ill omen. Ten of spades:

violence. Knave of spades: a dark young man, possibly troubled, one

who dislikes the questioner —"

She stopped dead, right on the other side of Harry's statue.

"Well, that can't be right," she said, annoyed, and Harry heard her

reshuffling vigorously as she set off again, leaving nothing but a whiff

of cooking sherry behind her.

"Trelawney is quite the card," said Lily, finding the divination professor's

antics rather amusing, even more so now that she wasn't making her son's

life miserable by predicting his death.

Harry waited until he was quite sure she had gone, then hurried off

again until he reached the spot in the seventh-floor corridor where a

single gargoyle stood against the wall.

"Acid Pops," said Harry, and the gargoyle leapt aside; the wall behind

it slid apart, and a moving spiral stone staircase was revealed, onto

which Harry stepped, so that he was carried in smooth circles up to the

door with the brass knocker that led to Dumbledore's Office. Harry

knocked.

"Come in," said Dumbledore s voice.

"Good evening, sir," said Harry, walking into the headmaster's office.

"Ah, good evening, Harry. Sit down," said Dumbledore, smiling. "I

hope you've had an enjoyable first week back at school?"

"Yes, thanks, sir," said Harry.

"You must have been busy, a detention under your belt already!"

"Considering his genetics, the fact that he managed to last until his first

afternoon of classes is rather impressive," said Remus before motioning to

James and Sirius next to him, "that lot can barely make it through the

sorting and opening feast."

"Er," began Harry awkwardly, but Dumbledore did not look too stern.

"I have arranged with Professor Snape that you will do your detention

next Saturday instead."

"Right," said Harry, who had more pressing matters on his mind than

Snapes detention, and now looked around surreptitiously for some

indication of what Dumbledore was planning to do with him this

evening. The circular office looked just as it always did; the delicate

silver instruments stood on spindle-legged tables, puffing smoke and

whirring; portraits of previous headmasters and headmistresses dozed

in their frames, and Dumbledore's magnificent phoenix, Fawkes, stood

on his perch behind the door, watching Harry with bright interest. It

did not even look as though Dumbledore had cleared a space for

duelling practice.

"I don't think I would be teaching young Harry duelling," said Albus,

"however I have no doubt that the actual content will be just as fascinating.

"So, Harry," said Dumbledore, in a businesslike voice. "You have been

wondering, I am sure, what I have planned for you during these — for

want of a better word — lessons?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, I have decided that it is time, now that you know what prompted

Lord Voldemort to try and kill you fifteen years ago, for you to be

given certain information." There was a pause.

"You said, at the end of last term, you were going to tell me

everything," said Harry. It was hard to keep a note of accusation from

his voice. "Sir," he added.

"And so I did," said Dumbledore placidly. "I told you everything I

know. From this point forth, we shall be leaving the firm foundation of

fact and journeying together through the murky marshes of memory

into thickets of wildest guesswork. From here on in, Harry, I may be as

woefully wrong as Humphrey Belcher, who believed the time was ripe

for a cheese cauldron."

"I don't think the time will ever be right for a cheese cauldron," drawled

Regulus.

"Unless you are a mouse," remarked Lily with a cheeky grin.

"But you think you're right?" said Harry.

"Naturally I do, but as I have already proven to you, I make mistakes

like the next man. In fact, being — forgive me — rather cleverer than

most men, my mistakes tend to be correspondingly huger."

"Sir," said Harry tentatively, "does what you're going to tell me have

anything to do with the prophecy? Will it help me… survive?"

"It has a very great deal to do with the prophecy," said Dumbledore, as

casually as if Harry had asked him about the next days weather, "and I

certainly hope that it will help you to survive."

Hermione felt like snorting, she felt the true answer would be more along

the lines to 'help you ensure you won't die until the opportune moment,'

however she felt she had to restrain herself and keep reading.

Dumbledore got to his feet and walked around the desk, past Harry,

who turned eagerly in his seat to watch Dumbledore bending over the

cabinet beside the door. When Dumbledore straightened up, he was

holding a familiar shallow stone basin etched with odd markings

around its rim. He placed the Pensieve on the desk in front of Harry.

"You look worried."

Harry had indeed been eyeing the Pensieve with some apprehension.

His previous experiences with the odd device that stored and revealed

thoughts and memories, though highly instructive, had also been

uncomfortable. The last time he had disturbed its contents, he had seen

much more than he would have wished. But Dumbledore was smiling.

"This time, you enter the Pensieve with me… and, even more unusually,

with permission."

"Where are we going, sir?"

"For a trip down Bob Ogden's memory lane," said Dumbledore,

pulling from his pocket a crystal bottle containing a swirling silvery-

white substance.

"Who was Bob Ogden?"

"He was employed by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement,"

said Dumbledore. "He died some time ago, but not before I had tracked

him down and persuaded him to confide these recollections to me. We

are about to accompany him on a visit he made in the course of his

duties. If you will stand, Harry…"

"Ahh," said Albus, he knew now exactly what was going to happen, he was

curious about the contents of the information gathered by his future self,

although his own personal work thus far had been rather enlightening.

But Dumbledore was having difficulty pulling out the stopper of the

crystal bottle: His injured hand seemed stiff and painful.

"Shall — shall I, sir?"

"No matter, Harry —"

Dumbledore pointed his wand at the bottle and the cork flew out.

"Sir — how did you injure your hand?" Harry asked again, looking at

the blackened fingers with a mixture of revulsion and pity.

"Now is not the moment for that story, Harry. Not yet. We have an

appointment with Bob Ogden."

Dumbledore tipped the silvery contents of the bottle into the Pensieve,

where they swirled and shimmered, neither liquid nor gas. "After

you," said Dumbledore, gesturing toward the bowl. Harry bent

forward, took a deep breath, and plunged his face into the silvery

substance. He felt his feet leave the office floor; he was falling, falling

through whirling darkness and then, quite suddenly, he was blinking in

dazzling sunlight. Before his eyes had adjusted, Dumbledore landed

beside him.

Albus chuckled, "a finger will usually suffice, however I will probably not

be the one to refute Harry's interesting pensieve etiquette."

They were standing in a country lane bordered by high, tangled

hedgerows, beneath a summer sky as bright and blue as a forget-me-

not. Some ten feet in front of them stood a short, plump man wearing

enormously thick glasses that reduced his eyes to molelike specks. He

was reading a wooden signpost that was sticking out of the brambles on

the left-hand side of the road. Harry knew this must be Ogden; he was

the only person in sight, and he was also wearing the strange

assortment of clothes so often chosen by inexperienced wizards trying

to look like Muggles: in this case, a frock coat and spats over a striped

one-piece bathing costume.

The muggle-savvy group in the room, all found this mental image rather

hilarious.

Before Harry had time to do more than register his bizarre appearance,

however, Ogden had set off at a brisk walk down the lane.

Dumbledore and Harry followed. As they passed the wooden sign,

Harry looked up at its two arms. The one pointing back the way they

had come read: Great Hangleton, 5 miles. The arm pointing after

Ogden said Little Hangleton, 1 mile.

"Isn't that the town where the resident evil sadist's family was from, it was

mentioned in at the start of the first book we read," supplied James.

They walked a short way with nothing to see but the hedgerows, the

wide blue sky overhead and the swishing, frock-coated figure ahead.

Then the lane curved to the left and fell away, sloping steeply down a

hillside, so that they had a sudden, unexpected view of a whole valley

laid out in front of them. Harry could see a village, undoubtedly Little

Hangleton, nestled between two steep hills, its church and graveyard

clearly visible. Across the valley, set on the opposite hillside, was a

handsome manor house surrounded by a wide expanse of velvety green

lawn.

Ogden had broken into a reluctant trot due to the steep downward

slope. Dumbledore lengthened his stride, and Harry hurried to keep

up. He thought Little Hangleton must be their final destination and

wondered, as he had done on the night they had found Slughorn, why

they had to approach it from such a distance. He soon discovered that

he was mistaken in thinking that they were going to the village,

however. The lane curved to the right and when they rounded the

corner, it was to see the very edge of Ogden's frock coat vanishing

through a gap in the hedge.

Dumbledore and Harry followed him onto a narrow dirt track

bordered by higher and wilder hedgerows than those they had left

behind. The path was crooked, rocky, and potholed, sloping down-hill

like the last one, and it seemed to be heading for a patch of dark trees a

little below them. Sure enough, the track soon opened up at the copse,

and Dumbledore and Harry came to a halt behind Ogden, who had

stopped and drawn his wand.

Despite the cloudless sky, the old trees ahead cast deep, dark, cool

shadows, and it was a few seconds before Harry's eyes discerned the

building half-hidden amongst the tangle of trunks. It seemed to him a

very strange location to choose for a house, or else an odd decision to

leave the trees growing nearby, blocking all light and the view of the

valley below. He wondered whether it was inhabited; its walls were

mossy and so many tiles had fallen off the roof that the rafters were

visible in places. Nettles grew all around it, their tips reaching the

windows, which were tiny and thick with grime. Just as he had

concluded that nobody could possibly live there, however, one of the

windows was thrown open with a clatter, and a thin trickle of steam or

smoke issued from it, as though somebody was cooking.

"I think those particular residents need to work on their cleanliness

standards and perhaps some good scouring charms," said Lily, wrinkling

her nose up in disgust.

Ogden moved forward quietly and, it seemed to Harry, rather

cautiously. As the dark shadows of the trees slid over him, he stopped

again, staring at the front door, to which somebody had nailed a dead

snake.

"Yep," said Alice, "I understand the need for caution now. I'm guessing

these guys won't be winning any awards for home decorating in the near

future."

Then there was a rustle and a crack, and a man in rags dropped from

the nearest tree, landing on his feet right in front of Ogden, who leapt

backward so fast he stood on the tails of his frock coat and stumbled.

"You're not welcome."

"That wasn't very nice," said Lily, "but then again we would have been

suspicious if they greeted Ogden with a hot cuppa at the ready as well."

Hermione was staring at the text looking puzzled for a moment, "why was

that line in italics?" she wondered aloud.

"It might explain it you keep reading," teased Remus, throwing Hermione's

own words back in her face.

The man standing before them had thick hair so matted with dirt it

could have been any colour. Several of his teeth were missing. His eyes

were small and dark and stared in opposite directions. He might have

looked comical, but he did not; the effect was frightening, and Harry

could not blame Ogden for backing away several more paces before he

spoke.

"Er — good morning. I'm from the Ministry of Magic —"

"You're not welcome."

"Er — I'm sorry — I don't understand you," said Ogden nervously.

Harry thought Ogden was being extremely dim; the stranger was

making himself very clear in Harry's opinion, particularly as he was

brandishing a wand in one hand and a short and rather bloody knife in

the other.

"You understand him, I'm sure, Harry?" said Dumbledore quietly.

"Parseltongue, of course," said Frank.

"Yes, of course," said Harry, slightly nonplussed. "Why can't Ogden

—?"

But as his eyes found the dead snake on the door again, he suddenly

understood.

"He's speaking Parseltongue?"

"Very good," said Dumbledore, nodding and smiling.

The man in rags was now advancing on Ogden, knife in one hand,

wand in the other.

"Now, look —" Ogden began, but too late: There was a bang, and

Ogden was on the ground, clutching his nose, while a nasty yellowish

goo squirted from between his fingers.

"Eww," said Lily, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

"Morfin!" said a loud voice.

An elderly man had come hurrying out of the cottage, banging the door

behind him so that the dead snake swung pathetically. This man was

shorter than the first, and oddly proportioned; his shoulders were very

broad and his arms overlong, which, with his bright brown eyes, short

scrubby hair, and wrinkled face, gave him the look of a powerful, aged

monkey. He came to a halt beside the man with the knife, who was now

cackling with laughter at the sight of Ogden on the ground.

"Ministry, is it?" said the older man, looking down at Ogden.

"Correct!" said Ogden angrily, dabbing his face. "And you, I take it,

are Mr. Gaunt?"

"S'right," said Gaunt. "Got you in the face, did he?"

"Yes, he did!" snapped Ogden.

"Should've made your presence known, shouldn't you?" said Gaunt

aggressively. "This is private property. Can't just walk in here and not

expect my son to defend himself."

"Defend himself against what, man?" said Ogden, clambering back to

his feet.

"It seems the only thing that people need to defend against is the son

himself," commented Remus.

"Busybodies. Intruders. Muggles and filth." Ogden pointed his wand at

his own nose, which was still issuing large amounts of what looked like

yellow pus, and the flow stopped at once. Mr. Gaunt spoke out of the

corner of his mouth to Morfin.

"Get in the house. Don't argue."

This time, ready for it, Harry recognized Parseltongue; even while he

could understand what was being said, he distinguished the weird

hissing noise that was all Ogden could hear.

Morfin seemed to be on the point of disagreeing, but when his father

cast him a threatening look he changed his mind, lumbering away to

the cottage with an odd rolling gait and slamming the front door

behind him, so that the snake swung sadly again.

"It's your son I'm here to see, Mr. Gaunt," said Ogden, as he mopped

the last of the pus from the front of his coat. "That was Morfin, wasn't

it?"

"Ah, that was Morfin," said the old man indifferently. "Are you pure-

blood?" he asked, suddenly aggressive.

"That's neither here nor there," said Ogden coldly,

"So no," deduced Regulus.

and Harry felt his respect for Ogden rise. Apparently Gaunt felt rather

differently. He squinted into Ogden's face and muttered, in what was

clearly supposed to be an offensive tone, "Now I come to think about it,

I've seen noses like yours down in the village."

"I don't doubt it, if your son's been let loose on them," said Ogden.

"Perhaps we could continue this discussion inside?"

"Inside?"

"Yes, Mr. Gaunt. I've already told you. I'm here about Morfin. We sent

an owl —"

"I've no use for owls," said Gaunt. "I don't open letters."

"Not that I blame him, most of them are rubbish anyway," commented

Sirius, "but right now I like the ministry better than Morfin and Old Man

Gaunt, stupid supremacists."

"Then you can hardly complain that you get no warning of visitors,"

said Ogden tartly. "I am here following a serious breach of Wizarding

law, which occurred here in the early hours of this morning —"

"All right, all right, all right!" bellowed Gaunt. "Come in the bleeding

house, then, and much good it'll do you!"

The house seemed to contain three tiny rooms. Two doors led off the

main room, which served as kitchen and living room com-bined.

Morfin was sitting in a filthy armchair beside the smoking fire, twisting

a live adder between his thick fingers and crooning softly at it in

Parseltongue:

Hissy, hissy, little snakey,

Slither on the floor

You be good to Morfin

Or he'll nail you to the door.

"Well that wasn't weird, disturbing or disgusting," commented Alice

sarcastically.

There was a scuffling noise in the corner beside the open window, and

Harry realized that there was somebody else in the room, a girl whose

ragged gray dress was the exact colour of the dirty stone wall behind

her. She was standing beside a steaming pot on a grimy black stove,

and was fiddling around with the shelf of squalid-looking pots and pans

above it. Her hair was lank and dull and she had a plain, pale, rather

heavy face. Her eyes, like her brother's, stared in opposite directions.

She looked a little cleaner than the two men, but Harry thought he had

never seen a more defeated-looking person.

"M'daughter, Merope," said Gaunt grudgingly, as Ogden looked

inquiringly toward her.

"Good morning," said Ogden.

She did not answer, but with a frightened glance at her father turned

her back on the room and continued shifting the pots on the shelf

behind her.

"Well, Mr. Gaunt," said Ogden, "to get straight to the point, we have

reason to believe that your son, Morfin, performed magic in front of a

Muggle late last night."

There was a deafening clang. Merope had dropped one of the pots.

"Pick it up!" Gaunt bellowed at her. "That's it, grub on the floor like

some filthy Muggle, what's your wand for, you useless sack of muck?"

"That is no way to treat your daughter, you mangy sack of goat-fed dragon

dung!" said Lily viciously, feeling sorry for the girl and absolutely furious

with the audacity and general horridness of the Gaunt patriarch.

"Mr. Gaunt, please!" said Ogden in a shocked voice, as Merope, who

had already picked up the pot, flushed blotchily scarlet, lost her grip on

the pot again, drew her wand shakily from her pocket, pointed it at the

pot, and muttered a hasty, inaudible spell that caused the pot to shoot

across the floor away from her, hit the opposite wall, and crack in two.

"Poor girl," said Lily, "mind you it is probably that man's fault that she is

anxious about doing magic, I highly doubt she lives in a atmosphere

conducive to learning or feeling at ease."

"Which is probably why my son is so horrible at potions," said Alice

pointedly , staring at Severus across the room.

Morfin let out a mad cackle of laughter. Gaunt screamed, "Mend it,

you pointless lump, mend it!"

Merope stumbled across the room, but before she had time to raise her

wand, Ogden had lifted his own and said firmly, "Reparo." The pot

mended itself instantly.

Gaunt looked for a moment as though he was going to shout at Ogden,

but seemed to think better of it: Instead, he jeered at his daughter,

"Lucky the nice man from the Ministry's here, isn't it? Perhaps he'll

take you off my hands, perhaps he doesn't mind dirty Squibs…"

Without looking at anybody or thanking Ogden, Merope picked up the

pot and returned it, hands trembling, to its shelf. She then stood quite

still, her back against the wall between the filthy window and the stove,

as though she wished for nothing more than to sink into the stone and

vanish.

"Why that man... the nerve of him," said an angry Lily, Alice and Hermione

nodding in agreement.

"Mr. Gaunt," Ogden began again, "as I've said: the reason for my visit

—"

"I heard you the first time!" snapped Gaunt. "And so what? Morfin

gave a Muggle a bit of what was coming to him — what about it,

then?"

"Morfin has broken Wizarding law," said Ogden sternly.

"'Morfin has broken Wizarding law.'" Gaunt imitated Ogden's voice,

making it pompous and singsong. Morfin cackled again. "He taught a

filthy Muggle a lesson, that's illegal now, is it?"

"Why yes," said Lily viciously, "yes it is. I am sure that whatever filthy

muggle you taught a lesson, was not even half as filthy as you, you

imbecilic lard of pigeon fat."

"Yes," said Ogden. "I'm afraid it is."

He pulled from an inside pocket a small scroll of parchment and

unrolled it.

"What's that, then, his sentence?" said Gaunt, his voice rising angrily.

"It is a summons to the Ministry for a hearing —"

"Summons! Summons? Who do you think you are, summoning my son

anywhere?"

"Someone who doesn't live in a hovel?" suggested Alice with a sickly

sweet, aka vicious smile.

"I'm Head of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad," said Ogden.

"And you think we're scum, do you?" screamed Gaunt, advancing on

Ogden now, with a dirty yellow-nailed finger pointing at his chest.

"Scum who'll come running when the Ministry tells 'em to? Do you

know who you're talking to, you filthy little Mudblood, do you?"

"I was under the impression that I was speaking to Mr. Gaunt," said

Ogden, looking wary, but standing his ground.

"You know, I think I might even start liking this Ogden guy," commented

Sirius.

"Which says a lot," said Remus, "considering how bigger bone he has to

pick with the ministry of magic."

"That's right!" roared Gaunt. For a moment, Harry thought Gaunt

was making an obscene hand gesture, but then realized that he was

showing Ogden the ugly, black-stoned ring he was wearing on his

middle finger, waving it before Ogden's eyes. "See this? See this? Know

what it is? Know where it came from? Centuries it's been in our family,

that's how far back we go, and pure-blood all the way! Know how

much I've been offered for this, with the Peverell coat of arms engraved

on the stone?"

Albus' eyebrows raised. Hermione muttered something incomprehensible

under her breath at the mention of the ring. James raised his eyebrow, he

was a descendant of the Perverell family, that meant that he was related to

these psychotics and their off-spring, one of who he had a feeling was the

very megalomaniac they were learning how to destroy.

"I've really no idea," said Ogden, blinking as the ring sailed within an

inch of his nose, "and it's quite beside the point, Mr. Gaunt. Your son

has committed —"

With a howl of rage, Gaunt ran toward his daughter. For a split second,

Harry thought he was going to throttle her as his hand flew to her

throat; next moment, he was dragging her toward Ogden by a gold

chain around her neck.

Hermione silently cursed the existence of the very chain, whilst Lily was

protesting once again against the way Marvolo Gaunt treated his off-spring.

"See this?" he bellowed at Ogden, shaking a heavy gold locket at him,

while Merope spluttered and gasped for breath.

"I see it, I see it!" said Ogden hastily.

"Slytherin's!" yelled Gaunt. "Salazar Slytherin's! We're his last living

descendants, what do you say to that, eh?"

"That you are still a psychotic maniac who should not have been allowed to

reproduce?" supplied Frank.

"We now know where the insane streak came from?" offered James, more

as a joke, however he still earned several scowls from the two slytherins in

the room and Hermione.

"Even if you were his last living descendants, you don't really have much to

show for it, I would rather be a muggle-born and live like a normal person,

than be related to Slytherin and be psycho and live in a hovel. Believe it or

not, despite what my mother says: lineage is not everything," said Sirius,

"not that I have anything against muggle-borns, after all two of my

favourite witches are utterly brilliant, brainy and beautiful muggle-borns."

He then sent an exaggerated wink to Lily and Hermione.

"Who don't fall your bull either," added Lily cheekily.

"Mr. Gaunt, your daughter!" said Ogden in alarm, but Gaunt had

already released Merope; she staggered away from him, back to her

corner, massaging her neck and gulping for air.

"So!" said Gaunt triumphantly, as though he had just proved a

complicated point beyond all possible dispute. "Don't you go talking to

us as if we're dirt on your shoes! Generations of pure-bloods, wizards

all — more than you can say, I don't doubt!"

"He hasn't really made a point or cognitive argument at all though," pointed

out Frank, ever the Ravenclaw.

And he spat on the floor at Ogdens feet. Morfin cackled again. Merope,

huddled beside the window, her head bowed and her face hidden by her

lank hair, said nothing.

"Mr. Gaunt," said Ogden doggedly, "I am afraid that neither your

ancestors nor mine have anything to do with the matter in hand. I am

here because of Morfin, Morfin and the Muggle he accosted late last

night. Our information"— he glanced down at his scroll of parchment

— "is that Morfin performed a jinx or hex on the said Muggle, causing

him to erupt in highly painful hives."

Morfin giggled.

"Be quiet, boy," snarled Gaunt in Parseltongue, and Morfin fell silent

again.

"And so what if he did, then?" Gaunt said defiantly to Ogden, "I expect

you've wiped the Muggle's filthy face clean for him, and his memory to

boot —"

"Not really the point though," said Remus.

"That's hardly the point, is it, Mr. Gaunt?" said Ogden. "This was an

unprovoked attack on a defenceless —"

"Ar, I had you marked out as a Muggle-lover the moment I saw you,"

sneered Gaunt, and he spat on the floor again.

"I think the word he is looking for there is sane," commented Remus

sarcastically.

"This discussion is getting us nowhere," said Ogden firmly. "It is clear

from your son's attitude that he feels no remorse for his actions." He

glanced down at his scroll of parchment again. "Morfin will attend a

hearing on the fourteenth of September to answer the charges of using

magic in front of a Muggle and causing harm and distress to that same

Mugg —"

Ogden broke off. The jingling, clopping sounds of horses and loud,

laughing voices were drifting in through the open window. Apparently

the winding lane to the village passed very close to the copse where the

house stood. Gaunt froze, listening, his eyes wide. Morfin hissed and

turned his face toward the sounds, his expression hungry. Merope

raised her head. Her face, Harry saw, was starkly white.

"Why would that be so shocking?"

"My God, what an eyesore!" rang out a girl's voice, as clearly audible

through the open window as if she had stood in the room beside them.

"Couldn't your father have that hovel cleared away, Tom?"

"It's not ours," said a young man's voice. "Everything on the other side

of the valley belongs to us, but that cottage belongs to an old tramp

called Gaunt, and his children. The son's quite mad, you should hear

some of the stories they tell in the village —"

The girl laughed. The jingling, clopping noises were growing louder

and louder. Morfin made to get out of his armchair.

"What a lovely couple, they seem to be uppity snobs and are probably

absolutely perfect for each other."

Hermione figured that Voldemort's bad genes culminated from both sides of

his family.

"Keep your seat," said his father warningly, in Parseltongue.

"Tom," said the girl's voice again, now so close they were clearly right

beside the house, "I might be wrong — but has somebody nailed a

snake to that door?"

"Good lord, you're right!" said the man's voice. "That'll be the son, I

told you he's not right in the head. Don't look at it, Cecilia, darling."

The jingling and clopping sounds were now growing faint again.

"'Darling,'" whispered Morfin in Parseltongue, looking at his sister.

"'Darling, he called her. So he wouldn't have you anyway."

Merope was so white Harry felt sure she was going to faint.

"Oh dear, the poor girl likes him," said Lily looking sad for the girl, she

knew that she didn't have a chance with either the rich snob of a boy, or

with her family's support.

"She could probably do better, though compared to her father he is probably

an absolute saint," observed Alice.

"What's that?" said Gaunt sharply, also in Parseltongue, looking from

his son to his daughter. "What did you say, Morfin?"

"She likes looking at that Muggle," said Morfin, a vicious expression on

his face as he stared at his sister, who now looked terrified. "Always in

the garden when he passes, peering through the hedge at him, isn't she?

And last night —" Merope shook her head jerkily, imploringly, but

Morfin went on ruthlessly, "Hanging out of the window waiting for him

to ride home, wasn't she?"

"Some brother he is," said Alice.

"He's even worse than mine," said Sirius.

"I only tell mother what you want her to know, don't you dare deny it! You

are proud when she finds out that you defy her!" replied Regulus.

"Hanging out of the window to look at a Muggle?" said Gaunt quietly.

All three of the Gaunts seemed to have forgotten Ogden, who was

looking both bewildered and irritated at this renewed outbreak of

incomprehensible hissing and rasping.

"Is it true?" said Gaunt in a deadly voice, advancing a step or two

toward the terrified girl. "My daughter — pure-blooded descendant of

Salazar Slytherin — hankering after a filthy, dirt-veined Muggle?"

Merope shook her head frantically, pressing herself into the wall,

apparently unable to speak.

"But I got him, Father!"cackled Morfin. "I got him as he went by and he

didn't look so pretty with hives all over him, did he, Merope?"

"I don't imagine that he would," remarked Severus flatly.

"You disgusting little Squib, you filthy little blood traitor!"roared Gaunt,

losing control, and his hands closed around his daughter's throat.

"WHAT!" shrieked Lily at the top of her lungs in absolute outrage. Remus

merely rubbed his ears and shook his head in an attempt to stop the sudden

ringing caused by Lily's justified outburst.

Hermione too was shocked and was having trouble reading without bursting

onto her soapbox. Harry told her that Merope Gaunt's home life was bad,

but she never imagined just how horrific it was.

Both Harry and Ogden yelled "No!" at the same time; Ogden raised

his wand and cried, "Relashio!"

Gaunt was thrown backward, away from his daughter; he tripped over

a chair and fell flat on his back. With a roar of rage, Morfin leapt out

of his chair and ran at Ogden, brandishing his bloody knife and firing

hexes indiscriminately from his wand.

Ogden ran for his life.

"Smart man, smart, smart man," said Remus.

"I know people told us horror stories of the Gaunt family as children, but

hearing about the reality is something else entirely," said Frank, "it does

make people think about the credibility behind the pureblood philosophy, as

the Gaunts are in no way superior, quite the opposite, despite their so-called

'noble birth', however all the steps taken to preserve their ancestry has

resulted in them becoming crazed lunatics, which will cause them all to die

out eventually anyway or become so mutated and deformed that won't be

recognisably human."

"I wonder if the Dark Lord knows about his family's history," mused

Severus.

"He does," said Hermione, thinking about the fact that a horcrux was hidden

in his ancestral home and that one of the upcoming memories will be about

the meeting between Morfin and Tom.

"Then how on earth can he propagate the pure-blood philosophy when he

can see the flaws of it and what it probably did to him?" asked Lily.

"That is simple," said Regulus, "in the wizarding world, which demographic

has the most money, influence and resources to plunder? The pure-bloods,

namely the old families. What the Dark Lord really wants is one thing,

power. I doubt he cares two flobberworms for the philosophy he is

supporting. He has merely chosen that particular ideology, because it is the

one which all the wealthy pure-bloods will give their money to and will

support, because it is in their own interests."

"That is insane!" said Lily.

"Not at all," replied Sirius, "it is smart. He gets what he wants, namely

power and control, while the purebloods think they are getting the better

end of the deal. The book mentioned that so many of the old families

supported him, after all why wouldn't you support something in your own

personal interests? After all human beings seem to be an inherently selfish

bunch. As much as I hate to say it, Voldie is smart, he can play politics and

work to people's fears and uses that to seduce them to support him. Take my

family, the message to mother is the supremacy and prosperity of the ever-

superior purebloods, something which she loves, however when courting

our father's behaviour he represents his movement as being one to protect

the wizarding world from the muggles and maintaining the secrecy of the

wizarding world, which my father appreciates as he has a fear of muggles

and what their technology when combined with discrimination would do to

the wizarding race, after all wizards have no counter for the nuclear

weapons. Despite the varying tactics he gets the same result: support. He

could be a bloody politician I swear!"

That explanation left silence in the room for a few moments before

Hermione filled it by continuing to read.

Dumbledore indicated that they ought to follow and Harry obeyed,

Merope's screams echoing in his ears.

Ogden hurtled up the path and erupted onto the main lane, his arms

over his head, where he collided with the glossy chestnut horse ridden

by a very handsome, dark-haired young man. Both he and the pretty

girl riding beside him on a gray horse roared with laughter at the sight

of Ogden, who bounced off the horse's flank and set off again, his frock

coat flying, covered from head to foot in dust, running pell-mell up the

lane.

"I think that will do, Harry," said Dumbledore. He took Harry by the

elbow and tugged. Next moment, they were both soaring weightlessly

through darkness, until they landed squarely on their feet, back in

Dumbledore's now twilit office.

"What happened to the girl in the cottage?" said Harry at once, as

Dumbledore lit extra lamps with a flick of his wand. "Merope, or

whatever her name was?"

"Oh, she survived," said Dumbledore, reseating himself behind his desk

and indicating that Harry should sit down too. "Ogden Apparated

back to the Ministry and returned with reinforcements within fifteen

minutes. Morfin and his father attempted to fight, but both were

overpowered, removed from the cottage, and subsequently convicted by

the Wizengamot. Morfin, who already had a record of Muggle attacks,

was sentenced to three years in Azkaban. Marvolo, who had injured

several Ministry employees in addition to Ogden, received six months."

"Good," said Lily viciously, "they deserve it for how they treat their

daughter."

"Marvolo?" Harry repeated wonderingly.

"That's right," said Dumbledore, smiling in approval. "I am glad to see

you're keeping up."

"That old man was —?"

"Voldemort's grandfather, yes," said Dumbledore. "Marvolo, his son,

Morfin, and his daughter, Merope, were the last of the Gaunts, a very

ancient Wizarding family noted for a vein of instability and violence

that flourished through the generations due to their habit of marrying

their own cousins.

Lack of sense coupled with a great liking for grandeur meant that the

family gold was squandered several generations before Marvolo was

born. He, as you saw, was left in squalor and poverty, with a very nasty

temper, a fantastic amount of arrogance and pride, and a couple of

family heirlooms that he treasured just as much as his son, and rather

more than his daughter."

"So Merope," said Harry, leaning forward in his chair and staring at

Dumbledore, "so Merope was… Sir, does that mean she was…

Voldemort's mother?"

"It does," said Dumbledore. "And it so happens that we also had a

glimpse of Voldemort's father. I wonder whether you noticed?"

"The Muggle Morfin attacked? The man on the horse?"

"Great lineage, no wonder the Dark Lord is as insane as he seems in these

books," said Snape.

"Very good indeed," said Dumbledore, beaming. "Yes, that was Tom

Riddle senior, the handsome Muggle who used to go riding past the

Gaunt cottage and for whom Merope Gaunt cherished a secret,

burning passion."

"And they ended up married?" Harry said in disbelief, unable to

imagine two people less likely to fall in love.

"I have a feeling the love will be unrequited, if not artificially generated on

one side of the union," commented Remus dryly.

"I think you are forgetting," said Dumbledore, "that Merope was a

witch. I do not believe that her magical powers appeared to their best

advantage when she was being terrorized by her father. Once Marvolo

and Morfin were safely in Azkaban, once she was alone and free for the

first time in her life, then, I am sure, she was able to give full rein to her

abilities and to plot her escape from the desperate life she had led for

eighteen years.

"Can you not think of any measure Merope could have taken to make

Tom Riddle forget his Muggle companion, and fall in love with her

instead?"

"The Imperius Curse?" Harry suggested. "Or a love potion?"

"Very good. Personally, I am inclined to think that she used a love

potion. I am sure it would have seemed more romantic to her, and I do

not think it would have been very difficult, some hot day, when Riddle

was riding alone, to persuade him to take a drink of water.

In any case, within a few months of the scene we have just witnessed,

the village of Little Hangleton enjoyed a tremendous scandal. You can

imagine the gossip it caused when the squire's son ran off with the

tramp's daughter, Merope.

"But the villagers' shock was nothing to Marvolo's. He returned from

Azkaban, expecting to find his daughter dutifully awaiting his return

with a hot meal ready on his table. Instead, he found a clear inch of

dust and her note of farewell, explaining what she had done.

"Good, he deserves it for how he has treated her," said Lily, "I would feel

happy for Merope, if I didn't have a bad feeling it would end in tragedy."

"From all that I have been able to discover, he never mentioned her

name or existence from that time forth. The shock of her desertion may

have contributed to his early death — or perhaps he had simply never

learned to feed himself. Azkaban had greatly weakened Marvolo, and

he did not live to see Morfin return to the cottage."

"And Merope? She… she died, didn't she? Wasn't Voldemort brought

up in an orphanage?"

"Yes, indeed," said Dumbledore. "We must do a certain amount of

guessing here, although I do not think it is difficult to deduce what

happened. You see, within a few months of their runaway marriage,

Tom Riddle reappeared at the manor house in Little Hangleton without

his wife. The rumour flew around the neighbourhood that he was

talking of being 'hoodwinked' and 'taken in.' What he meant, I am

sure, is that he had been under an enchantment that had now lifted,

though I daresay he did not dare use those precise words for fear of

being thought insane. When they heard what he was saying, however,

the villagers guessed that Merope had lied to Tom Riddle, pretending

that she was going to have his baby, and that he had married her for

this reason."

"She did end up having his baby though," pointed out James, "otherwise the

world would be minus an evil dark lord and be in general a much happier

place."

"But she did have his baby."

"But not until a year after they were married. Tom Riddle left her while

she was still pregnant."

"What went wrong?" asked Harry. "Why did the love potion stop

working?"

"Again, this is guesswork," said Dumbledore, "but I believe that

Merope, who was deeply in love with her husband, could not bear to

continue enslaving him by magical means. I believe that she made the

choice to stop giving him the potion. Perhaps, besotted as she was, she

had convinced herself that he would by now have fallen in love with her

in return. Perhaps she thought he would stay for the baby's sake. If so,

she was wrong on both counts. He left her, never saw her again, and

never troubled to discover what became of his son."

"Poor girl," said Lily, "I do feel for her, having to grow up with that horrid

man, only to be deserted by her husband when she was pregnant and left to

die. She hasn't had an easy life of it."

The sky outside was inky black and the lamps in Dumbledore's office

seemed to glow more brightly than before.

"I think that will do for tonight, Harry," said Dumbledore after a

moment or two.

"Yes, sir," said Harry.

He got to his feet, but did not leave.

"Sir… is it important to know all this about Voldemort's past?"

"Very important, I think," said Dumbledore.

"It is important to learn about your adversary," said Minerva, "it is the best

way of finding an Achilles heel, so to speak, however I have a feeling that

Albus has more in mind than just a trip down memory lane."

"And it… it's got something to do with the prophecy?"

"It has everything to do with the prophecy."

"Right," said Harry, a little confused, but reassured all the same.

He turned to go, then another question occurred to him, and he turned

back again. "Sir, am I allowed to tell Ron and Hermione everything

you've told me?"

"I am glad he asked," said Hermione.

Dumbledore considered him for a moment, then said, "Yes, I think Mr.

Weasley and Miss Granger have proved themselves trust-worthy. But

Harry, I am going to ask you to ask them not to repeat any of this to

anybody else. It would not be a good idea if word got around how much

I know, or suspect, about Lord Voldemort's secrets."

"Ain't that the truth."

"No, sir, I'll make sure it's just Ron and Hermione. Good night."

He turned away again, and was almost at the door when he saw it.

Sitting on one of the little spindle-legged tables that supported so many

frail-looking silver instruments, was an ugly gold ring set with a large,

cracked, black stone.

"Sir," said Harry, staring at it. "That ring —"

"Yes?" said Dumbledore.

"You were wearing it when we visited Professor Slughorn that night."

"So I was," Dumbledore agreed.

"But isn't it… sir, isn't it the same ring Marvolo Gaunt showed

Ogden?"

Dumbledore bowed his head. "The very same."

Albus raised his eyebrow. The cogs in his head began spinning on overtime.

"But how come —? Have you always had it?"

"No, I acquired it very recently," said Dumbledore. "A few days before

I came to fetch you from your aunt and uncle's, in fact."

"That would be around the time you injured your hand, then, sir?"

"Around that time, yes, Harry."

"Smart kid," commented Minerva.

Harry hesitated. Dumbledore was smiling.

"Sir, how exactly —?"

"Too late, Harry! You shall hear the story another time. Good night."

"Good night, sir."

"That is the end," said Hermione.

"Interesting chapter," commented Severus.

"Now we know why Voldie is so cuckoo," added Remus.

"You do have to feel sorry for Merope though," said Lily, "none of that was

her fault."

"She still chose to trick the man and use a love potion, there is a reason why

people say they are dangerous, while she probably deserved a bit of

happiness, all that remained after was three extremely hurt people, creating

artificial love can leave no winners, only losers," said Sirius.

"Are you saying she got what she deserved?" asked Lily dangerously.

"No Evans," said Sirius, "to quote one of your muggle physicists: for every

action there is an equal and opposite reaction, she tried to falsely create

love, so she got hate instead, that is the way life works."

"Perhaps now would be a good time to break for dinner then," suggested

Albus, stopping any arguments pre-emptively.

"Wonderful idea," said Minerva, "as it is time for us to check up on the rest

of the school now anyway. Also we must ask that you all remain in the

room from now on, as we have spread a story that you are all in quarantine

at the moment due to the contraction of a type of flu, very believable as

there are other students in that supposed position at the moment in reality."

"Okay Professor," said Lily, "we are happy to keep Hermione company

anyway."

"Well all that remains is for some of the delicious roast to be sent up here

and all will be well, and perhaps some lemon meringue pie for desert," said

Albus pensively, "I hope you all enjoy your meal and the break and we shall

see you all soon enough to continue the tale."

AN: Thanks for reading, please review! Cheers!

11. Chapter 11

Hermione's Helping Hand

AN: Here is the next installment. As normal, I own nothing. I would once

again like to thank all those who have reviewed or messaged me, I

appreciate the feedback. Happy reading! Cheers!

"You look happy," remarked Hermione to Remus after they all had finished

tucking into a satisfying dinner.

"What can I say, nothing like a satisfying roast leg of lamb to make the

world a better place," replied Remus.

"Considering you probably ate a whole leg by yourself, I am sure that you

are the authority on the matter," injected Severus, "if didn't know better I

would say you turned into a pig once a month instead of a wolf."

"On that note, when is the lemon meringue pie arriving?" asked James.

"Hopefully soon and before Moony starts feeling peckish again, because I

would actually like to get some," responded Sirius.

Thankfully the pie arrived soon after Sirius made his pronouncement, which

led to another round of silence while everyone savoured the desert. Soon

after that the professors arrived again delaying any other chance for

conversation among the teens.

"Shall we get back into it?" asked Minerva, sitting down, being cautious to

check for any spells on her seat or vicinity, "if we go quickly we might be

able to have a bit of an early night, I think a good night's sleep would be

good for everyone."

"I believe that it is Regulus' turn to read, if I remember rightly," said Albus

serenely. Regulus took that as his cue to pick up the book and turn to the

next chapter.

"So Hermione, did you lend a hand to anyone in your sixth year?" asked

Regulus, glancing at the newest title.

"What do you mean?"

Regulus gestured at the chapter title, Hermione looked puzzle for a minute

before it dawned on her, causing her to blush profusely.

"I am intrigued," declared Sirius, "what is this helping hand Mie gives

someone, and how does my brother know about it."

"The chapter is titled Hermione's Helping Hand," replied Regulus, "the

only way we can find out what hand Hermione gives is by reading, which

will be best accomplished once you shut up."

As Hermione had predicted, the sixth years' free periods were not the

hours of blissful relaxation Ron had anticipated, but times in which to

attempt to keep up with the vast amount of homework they were being

set. Not only were they studying as though they had exams every day,

but the lessons themselves had become more demanding than ever

before. Harry barely understood half of what Professor McGonagall

said to them these days; even Hermione had had to ask her to repeat

instructions once or twice. Incredibly, and to Hermione's increasing

resentment, Harry's best subject had suddenly become Potions, thanks

to the Half-Blood Prince.

Lily looked proud.

Nonverbal spells were now expected, not only in Defence Against the

Dark Arts, but in Charms and Transfiguration too. Harry frequently

looked over at his classmates in the common room or at mealtimes to

see them purple in the face and straining as though they had overdosed

on U-No-Poo;

"If only someone slipped some into their pumpkin juice, then we could

have a real comparison," said James, however seeing the looks from the two

most feared females in existence (Lily and Professor McGonagall) he

suddenly changed tacks, "I mean, what a horrible thing to happen to them,

if they practice a bit more they should be better soon."

"Much improved Mr Potter," said Minerva, "you seem often to forget that

there are Professors in this room as well."

but he knew that they were really struggling to make spells work

without saying incantations aloud. It was a relief to get outside into the

greenhouses; they were dealing with more dangerous plants than ever

in Herbology, but at least they were still allowed to swear loudly if the

Venomous Tentacula seized them unexpectedly from behind.

One result of their enormous workload and the frantic hours of

practicing nonverbal spells was that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had so

far been unable to find time to go and visit Hagrid. He had stopped

coming to meals at the staff table, an ominous sign, and on the few

occasions when they had passed him in the corridors or out in the

grounds, he had mysteriously failed to notice them or hear their

greetings.

"Someone is annoyed with them," said Lily, "poor Hagrid though, he was so

excited to have them again."

"We've got to go and explain," said Hermione, looking up at Hagrid's

huge empty chair at the staff table the following Saturday at breakfast.

"We've got Quidditch tryouts this morning!" said Ron. "And we're

supposed to be practicing that Aguamenti Charm from Flitwick!

Anyway, explain what? How are we going to tell him we hated his

stupid subject?"

"We didn't hate it!" said Hermione.

"Are you lying?" asked Alice sweetly, looking rather sceptical.

"A little," admitted Hermione.

"Speak for yourself, I haven't forgotten the skrewts," said Ron darkly.

"And I'm telling you now, we've had a narrow escape. You didn't hear

him going on about his gormless brother — we'd have been teaching

Grawp how to tie his shoelaces if we'd stayed."

"Has he actually met Grawp, yet?" asked Frank, thinking back.

"I hate not talking to Hagrid," said Hermione, looking upset.

"We'll go down after Quidditch," Harry assured her. He too was

missing Hagrid, although like Ron he thought that they were better off

without Grawp in their lives. "But trials might take all morning, the

number of people who have applied." He felt slightly nervous at

confronting the first hurdle of his Captaincy. "I dunno why the team's

this popular all of a sudden."

"Gee, famous, heroic, captain?" drawled Sirius.

"Not to mention he looks like his father," said Lily, "which means that he

surely handsome as well."

"I am sure having your eyes though, will only improve him," replied James,

to which Lily smiled.

"Oh, come on, Harry," said Hermione, suddenly impatient. "It's not

Quidditch that's popular, it's you! You've never been more interesting,

and frankly, you've never been more fanciable."

"Speaking from experience?" asked Alice wagging her eyebrows.

"Eww no," said Hermione, "I got over my crush on Harry before my second

year, besides it would be like dating my brother. Trust me; incest is not

something I am fond of."

Ron gagged on a large piece of kipper. Hermione spared him one look

of disdain before turning back to Harry.

"Everyone knows you've been telling the truth now, don't they? The

whole Wizarding world has had to admit that you were right about

Voldemort being back and that you really have fought him twice in the

last two years and escaped both times. And now they're calling you 'the

Chosen One' — well, come on, can't you see why people are fascinated

by you?"

Harry was finding the Great Hall very hot all of a sudden, even though

the ceiling still looked cold and rainy.

"Anyone would think you were making him uncomfortable, Mie,"

commented Remus.

"And you've been through all that persecution from the Ministry when

they were trying to make out you were unstable and a liar. You can still

see the marks on the back of your hand where that evil woman made

you write with your own blood, but you stuck to your story anyway…"

"You can still see where those brains got hold of me in the Ministry,

look," said Ron, shaking back his sleeves.

"And it doesn't hurt that you've grown about a foot over the summer

either," Hermione finished, ignoring Ron.

"I'm tall," said Ron inconsequentially.

"Aww, is someone feeling left out. Jealous because Mie's attention is

elsewhere at the moment?" asked Alice.

The post owls arrived, swooping down through rain-flecked windows,

scattering everyone with droplets of water. Most people were receiving

more post than usual; anxious parents were keen to hear from their

children and to reassure them, in turn, that all was well at home. Harry

had received no mail since the start of term; his only regular

correspondent was now dead and although he had hoped that Lupin

might write occasionally, he had so far been disappointed.

Lily threw a disappointed look at Remus, for good measure. Thankfully

Remus had the good grace to blush and look reasonably ashamed of his

future actions, or lack thereof.

He was very surprised, therefore, to see the snowy white Hedwig

circling amongst all the brown and gray owls. She landed in front of

him carrying a large, square package. A moment later, an identical

package landed in front of Ron, crushing beneath it his minuscule and

exhausted owl, Pigwidgeon.

"Ha!" said Harry, unwrapping the parcel to reveal a new copy of

Advanced Potion-Making, fresh from Flourish and Blotts.

Lily looked sad, that meant that Harry would have to give back the book

and the small part of her legacy.

"Oh good," said Hermione, delighted. "Now you can give that

graffitied copy back."

"Are you mad?" said Harry. "I'm keeping it! Look, I've thought it out

—"

He pulled the old copy of Advanced Potion-Making out of his bag and

tapped the cover with his wand, muttering, "Diffindo!" The cover fell

off. He did the same thing with the brand-new book (Hermione looked

scandalized).

"I did not!" protested Hermione fruitlessly.

He then swapped the covers, tapped each, and said, "Reparo!"

There sat the Prince's copy, disguised as a new book, and there sat the

fresh copy from Flourish and Blotts, looking thoroughly secondhand.

"I'll give Slughorn back the new one, he can't complain, it cost nine

Galleons."

Hermione pressed her lips together, looking angry and disapproving,

but was distracted by a third owl landing in front of her carrying that

day's copy of the Daily Prophet. She unfolded it hastily and scanned the

front page.

"Anyone we know dead?" asked Ron in a determinedly casual voice; he

posed the same question every time Hermione opened her paper.

"No, but there have been more Dementor attacks," said Hermione.

"And an arrest."

"Excellent, who?" said Harry, thinking of Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Unfortunately I don't think so," said Sirius, "and even if Bella did get

arrested she wouldn't stay behind bars for long before her precious master

bailed her and the rest of them out."

"Stan Shunpike," said Hermione.

"What?" said Harry, startled.

"'Stanley Shunpike, conductor on the popular Wizarding conveyance

the Knight Bus, has been arrested on suspicion of Death Eater activity.

Mr. Shunpike, 21, was taken into custody late last night after a raid on

his Clapham home… '"

"Stan Shunpike, a Death Eater?" said Harry, remembering the spotty

youth he had first met three years before. "No way!"

"He might have been put under the Imperius Curse," said Ron

reasonably. "You never can tell."

"It doesn't look like it," said Hermione, who was still reading. "It says

here he was arrested after he was overheard talking about the Death

Eaters' secret plans in a pub." She looked up with a troubled

expression on her face. "If he was under the Imperius Curse, he'd

hardly stand around gossiping about their plans, would he?"

"It sounds like the ministry is trying to make it look like they are achieving

more than they are, by using Shunpike as a scapegoat. While he is

undoubtedly stupid, last time I checked that wasn't a crime," drawled

Severus.

"Probably what happened to me," said Sirius bitterly.

"It sounds like he was trying to make out he knew more than he did,"

said Ron. "Isn't he the one who claimed he was going to become

Minister of Magic when he was trying to chat up those veela?"

"Yeah, that's him," said Harry. "I dunno what they're playing at,

taking Stan seriously."

"They probably want to look as though they're doing something," said

Hermione, frowning.

"People are terrified — you know the Patil twins' parents want them to

go home? And Eloise Midgen has already been withdrawn. Her father

picked her up last night."

"What!" said Ron, goggling at Hermione. "But Hogwarts is safer than

their homes, bound to be! We've got Aurors, and all those extra

protective spells, and we've got Dumbledore!"

"Here, here," said Lily, glad that the headmaster would always be there to

keep Hogwarts safe, little did she know she was in for a rude awakening.

"I think during times of crisis, when the future is uncertain, people like to

be surrounded by their family and those that they love," said Dumbledore,

not addressing the conception of his infallibility.

"I don't think we've got him all the time," said Hermione very quietly,

glancing toward the staff table over the top of the Prophet. "Haven't

you noticed? His seat's been empty as often as Hagrid's this past

week."

Harry and Ron looked up at the staff table. The headmaster's chair

was indeed empty. Now Harry came to think of it, he had not seen

Dumbledore since their private lesson a week ago.

"I think he's left the school to do something with the Order," said

Hermione in a low voice. "I mean… it's all looking serious, isn't it?"

Harry and Ron did not answer, but Harry knew that they were all

thinking the same thing. There had been a horrible incident the day

before, when Hannah Abbott had been taken out of Herbology to be

told her mother had been found dead. They had not seen Hannah since.

"Poor dear," said Alice, "I think we have all seen this happen though,

usually after it does the student won't come back, after a tragedy like that

family's like to stick together."

When they left the Gryffindor table five minutes later to head down to

the Quidditch pitch, they passed Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil.

Remembering what Hermione had said about the Patil twins' parents

wanting them to leave Hogwarts, Harry was unsurprised to see that the

two best friends were whispering together, looking distressed. What did

surprise him was that when Ron drew level with them, Parvati

suddenly nudged Lavender, who looked around and gave Ron a wide

smile. Ron blinked at her, then returned the smile uncertainly. His walk

instantly became something more like a strut.

"Seems someone has a crush," commented Lily, "this should be somewhat

amusing, as it is rather entertaining to hear about teenage dating failures

when it isn't that of your own offspring."

Hermione cursed inwardly, she was going to be teased mercilessly

throughout the book. She knew it.

Harry resisted the temptation to laugh, remembering that Ron had

refrained from doing so after Malfoy had broken Harry's nose;

Hermione, however, looked cold and distant all the way down to the

stadium through the cool, misty drizzle, and departed to find a place in

the stands without wishing Ron good luck.

"Problem Mie?" asked James, arching an eyebrow looking rather smug.

"Yes," said Hermione, "you are annoying me."

As Harry had expected, the trials took most of the morning. Half of

Gryffindor House seemed to have turned up, from first years who were

nervously clutching a selection of the dreadful old school brooms, to

seventh years who towered over the rest, looking coolly intimidating.

The latter included a large, wiry-haired boy Harry recognized

immediately from the Hogwarts Express.

"We met on the train, in old Sluggy's compartment," he said

confidently, stepping out of the crowd to shake Harry's hand. "Cormac

McLaggen, Keeper."

"You didn't try out last year, did you?" asked Harry, taking note of the

breadth of McLaggen and thinking that he would probably block all

three goal hoops without even moving.

Someone snorted at that observation.

"I was in the hospital wing when they held the trials," said McLaggen,

with something of a swagger. "Ate a pound of doxy eggs for a bet."

"Is that meant to impress him?" asked James, "as admirable as the feat

might be, it doesn't show much dedication to the team."

"Right," said Harry. "Well… if you wait over there…"

He pointed over to the edge of the pitch, close to where Hermione was

sitting. He thought he saw a flicker of annoyance pass over McLaggen's

face and wondered whether McLaggen expected preferential treatment

because they were both "old Sluggy's" favourites.

Harry decided to start with a basic test, asking all applicants for the

team to divide into groups of ten and fly once around the pitch. This

was a good decision: the first ten was made up of first years, and it

could not have been plainer that they had hardly ever flown before.

Only one boy managed to remain airborne for more than a few

seconds, and he was so surprised he promptly crashed into one of the

goal posts.

Someone laughed at the mental image, though it probably wasn't that funny

from the boy's perspective.

The second group was comprised of ten of the silliest girls Harry had

ever encountered, who, when he blew his whistle, merely fell about

giggling and clutching one another. Romilda Vane was amongst them.

When he told them to leave the pitch, they did so quite cheerfully and

went to sit in the stands to heckle everyone else.

The third group had a pileup halfway around the pitch. Most of the

fourth group had come without broomsticks. The fifth group were

Hufflepuffs.

"What the?" asked James.

"What a lovely display of house pride," commented Minerva wryly.

"I think that might be there for the view, rather than for the game," guessed

Alice.

"If there's anyone else here who's not from Gryffindor," roared Harry,

who was starting to get seriously annoyed, "leave now, please!

There was a pause, then a couple of little Ravenclaws went sprinting off

the pitch, snorting with laughter. After two hours, many complaints,

and several tantrums, one involving a crashed Comet Two Sixty and

several broken teeth, Harry had found himself three Chasers: Katie

Bell, returned to the team after an excellent trial; a new find called

Demelza Robins, who was particularly good at dodging Bludgers; and

Ginny Weasley, who had outflown all the competition and scored

seventeen goals to boot.

James looked suitably impressed.

Pleased though he was with his choices, Harry had also shouted himself

hoarse at the many complainers and was now enduring a similar battle

with the rejected Beaters.

"That's my final decision and if you don't get out of the way of the

Keepers I'll hex you," he bellowed.

Neither of his chosen Beaters had the old brilliance of Fred and

George, but he was still reasonably pleased with them: Jimmy Peakes,

a short but broad-chested third-year boy who had managed to raise a

lump the size of an egg on the back of Harry's head with a ferociously

hit Bludger, and Ritchie Coote, who looked weedy but aimed well.

Sirius nodded approvingly, they were good qualities in a beater, after all it

was a position that required skill rather than just plain muscle.

They now joined Katie, Demelza, and Ginny in the stands to watch the

selection of their last team member.

Harry had deliberately left the trial of the Keepers until last, hoping for

an emptier stadium and less pressure on all concerned. Unfortunately,

however, all the rejected players and a number of people who had come

down to watch after a lengthy breakfast had joined the crowd by now,

so that it was larger than ever. As each Keeper flew up to the goal

hoops, the crowd roared and jeered in equal measure. Harry glanced

over at Ron, who had always had a problem with nerves; Harry had

hoped that winning their final match last term might have cured it, but

apparently not: Ron was a delicate shade of green.

None of the first five applicants saved more than two goals apiece. To

Harry's great disappointment, Cormac McLaggen saved four penalties

out of five. On the last one, however, he shot off in completely the

wrong direction; the crowd laughed and booed and McLaggen

returned to the ground grinding his teeth.

"Must have been a good feint then by the chaser," said James. For some

unknown reason Hermione looked rather sheepish.

Ron looked ready to pass out as he mounted his Cleansweep Eleven.

"Good luck!" cried a voice from the stands. Harry looked around,

expecting to see Hermione, but it was Lavender Brown. He would have

quite liked to have hidden his face in his hands, as she did a moment

later, but thought that as the Captain he ought to show slightly more

grit, and so turned to watch Ron do his trial. Yet he need not have

worried: Ron saved one, two, three, four, five penalties in a row.

"Nice work," said James, "good for him! He is probably better to have on

the team than McLaggen anyway, that one seems to have an attitude

problem."

Delighted, and resisting joining in the cheers of the crowd with

difficulty, Harry turned to McLaggen to tell him that, most

unfortunately, Ron had beaten him, only to find McLaggen's red face

inches from his own. He stepped back hastily.

"His sister didn't really try," said McLaggen menacingly. There was a

vein pulsing in his temple like the one Harry had often ad-mired in

Uncle Vernon's.

"She gave him an easy save."

"He clearly doesn't know anything about siblings," said Sirius, sparing a

glance to his own.

"Rubbish," said Harry coldly. "That was the one he nearly missed."

McLaggen took a step nearer Harry, who stood his ground this time.

"Give me another go."

"No," said Harry. "You've had your go. You saved four. Ron saved five.

Ron's Keeper, he won it fair and square. Get out of my way."

He thought for a moment that McLaggen might punch him, but he

contented himself with an ugly grimace and stormed away, growling

what sounded like threats to thin air.

Harry turned around to find his new team beaming at him.

"Well done," he croaked. "You flew really well —"

"You did brilliantly, Ron!"

This time it really was Hermione running toward them from the

stands; Harry saw Lavender walking off the pitch, arm in arm with

Parvati, a rather grumpy expression on her face. Ron looked extremely

pleased with himself and even taller than usual as he grinned at the

team and at Hermione. After fixing the time of their first full practice

for the following Thursday, Harry, Ron, and Hermione bade good-bye

to the rest of the team and headed off toward Hagrid's. A watery sun

was trying to break through the clouds now and it had stopped

drizzling at last. Harry felt extremely hungry; he hoped there would be

some-thing to eat at Hagrid's.

"I thought I was going to miss that fourth penalty," Ron was saying

happily. "Tricky shot from Demelza, did you see, had a bit of spin on it

—"

"Yes, yes, you were magnificent," said Hermione, looking amused.

"You really don't care do you," observed Frank.

Hermione smiled guiltily, "however it was such a typical Ron reaction, that

it amused me."

"I was better than that McLaggen anyway," said Ron in a highly

satisfied voice. "Did you see him lumbering off in the wrong direction

on his fifth? Looked like he'd been Confunded…"

To Harry's surprise, Hermione turned a very deep shade of pink at

these words. Ron noticed nothing; he was too busy describing each of

his other penalties in loving detail.

"Something you want to tell us, Mie?" asked Sirius.

"Nope."

The great gray hippogriff, Buckbeak, was tethered in front of Hagrid's

cabin. He clicked his razor-sharp beak at their approach and turned

his huge head toward them.

"Oh dear," said Hermione nervously. "He's still a bit scary, isn't he?"

"Come off it, you've ridden him, haven't you?" said Ron. Harry

stepped forward and bowed low to the hippogriff without breaking eye

contact or blinking. After a few seconds, Buckbeak sank into a bow too.

"How are you?" Harry asked him in a low voice, moving forward to

stroke the feathery head. "Missing him? But you're okay here with

Hagrid, aren't you?"

"Oy!" said a loud voice.

Hagrid had come striding around the corner of his cabin wearing a

large flowery apron and carrying a sack of potatoes. His enormous

boarhound, Fang, was at his heels; Fang gave a booming bark and

bounded forward.

"Git away from him! He'll have yer fingers — oh. It's yeh lot."

Hermione snorted lightly, "you would think he would be more grateful

considering the amount of time I took to try and convince people Buckbeak

wasn't dangerous, but apparently not."

Fang was jumping up at Hermione and Ron, attempting to lick their

ears. Hagrid stood and looked at them all for a split second, then

turned and strode into his cabin, slamming the door behind him.

Lily winced, it seemed that Hagrid was annoyed with her son.

"Oh dear!" said Hermione, looking stricken.

"Don't worry about it," said Harry grimly. He walked over to the door

and knocked loudly. "Hagrid! Open up, we want to talk to you!"

There was no sound from within.

"If you don't open the door, we'll blast it open!" Harry said, pulling out

his wand.

"But he's a teacher!" reminded Lily looking scandalised, then she turned to

James accusingly, "he gets it from you!"

"Harry!" said Hermione, sounding shocked. "You can't possibly —"

"Yeah, I can!" said Harry. "Stand back —"

But before he could say anything else, the door flew open again as

Harry had known it would, and there stood Hagrid, glowering down at

him and looking, despite the flowery apron, positively alarming.

"I'm a teacher!" he roared at Harry. "A teacher, Potter! How dare yeh

threaten ter break down my door!"

"I'm sorry, sir" said Harry, emphasizing the last word as he stowed his

wand inside his robes.

Hagrid looked stunned. "Since when have yeh called me 'sir'?"

"Since when have you called me 'Potter'?"

"Oh, very clever," growled Hagrid. "Very amusin'. That's me

outsmarted, innit? All righ', come in then, yeh ungrateful little…"

Mumbling darkly, he stood back to let them pass. Hermione scurried in

after Harry, looking rather frightened.

"In my defence, Hagrid is rather intimidating when he is angry or annoyed."

"Well?" said Hagrid grumpily, as Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat down

around his enormous wooden table, Fang laying his head immediately

upon Harry's knee and drooling all over his robes. "What's this?

Feelin' sorry for me? Reckon I'm lonely or summat?"

"No," said Harry at once. "We wanted to see you."

"We've missed you!" said Hermione tremulously.

"Missed me, have yeh?" snorted Hagrid. "Yeah. Righ'."

He stomped around, brewing up tea in his enormous copper kettle,

muttering all the while. Finally he slammed down three bucket-sized

mugs of mahogany-brown tea in front of them and a plate of his rock

cakes. Harry was hungry enough even for Hagrid's cooking, and took

one at once.

"Hagrid," said Hermione timidly, when he joined them at the table and

started peeling his potatoes with a brutality that suggested that each

tuber had done him a great personal wrong, "we really wanted to carry

on with Care of Magical Creatures, you know." Hagrid gave another

great snort. Harry rather thought some bogeys landed on the potatoes,

and was inwardly thankful that they were not staying for dinner.

"We did!" said Hermione. "But none of us could fit it into our

schedules!"

"Yeah. Righ'," said Hagrid again.

There was a funny squelching sound and they all looked around:

Hermione let out a tiny shriek, and Ron leapt out of his seat and

hurried around the table away from the large barrel standing in the

corner that they had only just noticed. It was full of what looked like

foot-long maggots, slimy, white, and writhing.

"Eww."

"What are they, Hagrid?" asked Harry, trying to sound interested

rather than revolted, but putting down his rock cake all the same.

"Jus' giant grubs," said Hagrid.

"And they grow into…?" said Ron, looking apprehensive.

"They won' grow inter nuthin'," said Hagrid. "I got 'em ter feed ter

Aragog."

"Who is Aragog, again?" asked James.

"The giant acromatula, which I have thankfully never met," said Hermione,

"though I have seen some of his off-spring."

"Why couldn't Hagrid have a ferret or something as a pet?" said Lily.

"I'm sure we could try and tempt Malfoy Jnr into volunteering," replied

Severus.

And without warning, he burst into tears.

"Hagrid!" cried Hermione, leaping up, hurrying around the table the

long way to avoid the barrel of maggots, and putting an arm around his

shaking shoulders. "What is it?"

"It's… him…" gulped Hagrid, his beetle-black eyes stream-ing as he

mopped his face with his apron. "It's… Aragog… I think he's dyin'…

He got ill over the summer an' he's not gettin' better… I don' know

what I'll do if he… if he… We've bin tergether so long…"

Hermione patted Hagrid's shoulder, looking at a complete loss for

anything to say. Harry knew how she felt. He had known Hagrid to

present a vicious baby dragon with a teddy bear, seen him croon over

giant scorpions with suckers and stingers, attempt to reason with his

brutal giant of a half-brother, but this was perhaps the most

incomprehensible of all his monster fancies: the gigantic talking spider,

Aragog, who dwelled deep in the Forbidden Forest and which he and

Ron had only narrowly escaped four years previously.

"How narrowly are we talking?" asked James.

"I was petrified at the time, so I'm not sure, but let's just say that neither of

them like to talk about it, which means that it was bad," said Hermione.

"Is there — is there anything we can do?" Hermione asked, ignoring

Ron's frantic grimaces and head-shakings.

"I don' think there is, Hermione," choked Hagrid,

"Thank Merlin for small mercies," said Alice, "otherwise you could have

ended up as an acromatula chew toy... human flavoured for your pet's

enjoyment."

attempting to stem the flood of his tears. "See, the rest o' the tribe…

Aragog's family… they're gettin' a bit funny now he's ill… bit

restive…"

"Yeah, I think we saw a bit of that side of them," said Ron in an

undertone.

"… I don' reckon it'd be safe fer anyone but me ter go near the colony

at the mo'," Hagrid finished,

"By the sounds of it, it wasn't all that safe in the first place," commented

Remus dryly.

blowing his nose hard on his apron and looking up. "But thanks fer

offerin', Hermione… It means a lot."

After that, the atmosphere lightened considerably, for although neither

Harry nor Ron had shown any inclination to go and feed giant grubs to

a murderous, gargantuan spider, Hagrid seemed to take it for granted

that they would have liked to have done and became his usual self once

more.

"Ar, I always knew yeh'd find it hard ter squeeze me inter yer

timetables," he said gruffly, pouring them more tea. "Even if yeh

applied fer Time-Turners —"

"We couldn't have done," said Hermione. "We smashed the entire

stock of Ministry Time-Turners when we were there last summer. It

was in the Daily Prophet."

"How did you get here then?" asked Frank curiously.

"Magic," replied Hermione, "no, the unspeakables remade some and

apparently used the opportunity to advance their work in that particular

field, and voila, here I am."

"Ar, well then," said Hagrid. "There's no way yeh could've done it…

I'm sorry I've bin — yeh know — I've jus' bin worried about Aragog…

an I did wonder whether, if Professor Grubbly-Plank had bin teachin'

yeh —"

At which all three of them stated categorically and untruthfully that

Professor Grubbly-Plank, who had substituted for Hagrid a few times,

was a dreadful teacher, with the result that by the time Hagrid waved

them off the premises at dusk, he looked quite cheerful.

"Nothing like a good lie to make everyone feel better," said Sirius dryly.

"I'm starving," said Harry, once the door had closed behind them and

they were hurrying through the dark and deserted grounds; he had

abandoned the rock cake after an ominous cracking noise from one of

his back teeth.

"And I've got that detention with Snape tonight, I haven't got much

time for dinner."

As they came into the castle they spotted Cormac McLaggen entering

the Great Hall. It took him two attempts to get through the doors; he

ricocheted off the frame on the first attempt. Ron merely guffawed

gloatingly and strode off into the Hall after him, but Harry caught

Hermione's arm and held her back.

"That is rather suspicious," commented Severus with an arched brow.

Hermione blushed.

"What?" said Hermione defensively.

"If you ask me," said Harry quietly, "McLaggen looks like he was

Confunded this morning. And he was standing right in front of where

you were sitting."

Hermione blushed.

"Stupid observant prat," muttered Hermione.

"You know calling someone stupid followed by observant tends to

contradict your desired expression of distaste," replied Regulus with a grin.

"Why thank you, Mr Smart-Arse," replied Hermione, shoving Regulus

playfully with her shoulder.

"My butt is rather nice, isn't it?" whispered Regulus to Hermione, making

her flush even more.

"I wouldn't know," she said airily, "though I suppose I will have to take

your word for it, since I doubt anyone else would want to look at it."

"Touché, ma mie," replied Regulus still smiling.

"Oh, all right then, I did it," she whispered. "But you should have

heard the way he was talking about Ron and Ginny! Anyway, he's got a

nasty temper, you saw how he reacted when he didn't get in — you

wouldn't have wanted someone like that on the team."

"No," said Harry. "No, I suppose that's true. But wasn't that dishonest,

Hermione? I mean, you're a prefect, aren't you?"

"My son wouldn't be teasing you now would he?" smirked Lily.

"Oh, be quiet," she snapped, as he smirked.

"What are you two doing?" demanded Ron, reappearing in the

doorway to the Great Hall and looking suspicious.

"Nothing," said Harry and Hermione together, and they hurried after

Ron. The smell of roast beef made Harry's stomach ache with hunger,

but they had barely taken three steps toward the Gryffindor table

when Professor Slughorn appeared in front of them, blocking their

path.

"Harry, Harry, just the man I was hoping to see!" he boomed genially,

twiddling the ends of his walrus mustache and puffing out his

enormous belly, "I was hoping to catch you before dinner! What do you

say to a spot of supper tonight in my rooms instead? We're having a

little party, just a few rising stars, I've got McLaggen coming and

Zabini, the charming Melinda Bobbin — I don't know whether you

know her? Her family owns a large chain of apothecaries — and, of

course, I hope very much that Miss Granger will favour me by coming

too."

"Welcome to the collection," said Sirius.

Slughorn made Hermione a little bow as he finished speaking. It was as

though Ron was not present; Slughorn did not so much as look at him.

"I can't come, Professor," said Harry at once. "I've got a detention with

Professor Snape."

"Oh dear!" said Slughorn, his face falling comically. "Dear, dear, I was

counting on you, Harry! Well, now, I'll just have to have a word with

Severus and explain the situation. I'm sure I'll be able to persuade him

to postpone your detention. Yes, I'll see you both later!" He bustled

away out of the Hall.

Severus arched an eyebrow, "perhaps senility is making him delusional."

"He's got no chance of persuading Snape," said Harry, the moment

Slughorn was out of earshot. "This detention's already been postponed

once; Snape did it for Dumbledore, but he won't do it for anyone else."

"Oh, I wish you could come, I don't want to go on my own!" said

Hermione anxiously; Harry knew that she was thinking about

McLaggen.

"I doubt you'll be alone, Ginny'll probably be invited," snapped Ron,

who did not seem to have taken kindly to being ignored by Slughorn.

"He should be thankful," said Sirius, "it is bloody annoying."

After dinner they made their way back to Gryffindor Tower. The

common room was very crowded, as most people had finished dinner

by now, but they managed to find a free table and sat down; Ron, who

had been in a bad mood ever since the encounter with Slughorn, folded

his arms and frowned at the ceiling. Hermione reached out for a copy

of the Evening Prophet, which somebody had left abandoned on a

chair.

"Anything new?" said Harry.

"Not really…" Hermione had opened the newspaper and was scanning

the inside pages. "Oh, look, your dad's in here, Ron — he's all right!"

she added quickly, for Ron had looked around in alarm. "It just says

he's been to visit the Malfoys' house. 'This second search of the Death

Eaters residence does not seem to have yielded any results. Arthur

Weasley of the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit

Defensive Spells and Protective Objects said that his team had been

acting upon a confidential tip-off.'"

"Yeah, mine!" said Harry. "I told him at Kings Cross about Malfoy and

that thing he was trying to get Borgin to fix! Well, if it's not at their

house, he must have brought whatever it is to Hogwarts with him —"

"But how can he have done, Harry?" said Hermione, putting down the

newspaper with a surprised look. "We were all searched when we

arrived, weren't we?"

"Really?" asked James, "though I suppose I can see why."

"Were you?" said Harry, taken aback. "I wasn't!"

"Oh no, of course you weren't, I forgot you were late. Well, Filch ran

over all of us with Secrecy Sensors when we got into the entrance hall.

Any Dark object would have been found, I know for a fact Crabbe had

a shrunken head confiscated. So you see, Malfoy can't have brought in

anything dangerous!"

Momentarily stymied, Harry watched Ginny Weasley playing with

Arnold the Pygmy Puff for a while before seeing a way around this

objection.

"Someone's sent it to him by owl, then," he said. "His mother or

someone."

"All the owls are being checked too," said Hermione. "Filch told us so

when he was jabbing those Secrecy Sensors everywhere he could

reach."

"I'm guessing it was a bad idea to annoy Filch when he had those things

inhand," said James.

Really stumped this time, Harry found nothing else to say. There did

not seem to be any way Malfoy could have brought a dangerous or

Dark object into the school. He looked hopefully at Ron, who was

sitting with his arms folded, staring over at Lavender Brown.

"Can you think of any way Malfoy —?"

"Oh, drop it, Harry," said Ron.

"Apparently Lavender provides better food for thought than my cousin, not

that that is actually surprising, I would be worried if it was the opposite,"

observed Sirius.

"What does that say about Harry then?" smirked Alice.

"Listen, it's not my fault Slughorn invited Hermione and me to his

stupid party, neither of us wanted to go, you know!" said Harry, firing

up.

"Well, as I'm not invited to any parties," said Ron, getting to his feet

again, "I think I'll go to bed."

He stomped off toward the door to the boys' dormitories, leaving Harry

and Hermione staring after him.

"Harry?" said the new Chaser, Demelza Robins, appearing suddenly at

his shoulder. "I've got a message for you."

"From Professor Slughorn?" asked Harry, sitting up hopefully.

"It is like choosing whether you want to die by drowning or being burnt

alive: detention with Snivellous Snape or a party with Slughorn,"

commented Sirius.

"No… from Professor Snape," said Demelza. Harry's heart sank. "He

says you're to come to his office at half past eight tonight to do your

detention— er— no matter how many party invitations you've

received. And he wanted you to know you'll be sorting out rotten

flobberworms from good ones, to use in Potions and — and he says

there's no need to bring protective gloves."

"Sev," said Lily warningly.

"I think the last part was said just for dramatic effect Lils," pointed out

Alice, "apart from the absolute and utter grossness of the task, there is no

real reason to wear the gloves. However I will admit that is not a detention I

would like to have."

"I've done it," said Remus, "Slughorn, once decided that it might make me

better at potions if I actually had to compensate for the materials I waste

during my 'unsatisfactory potion experiments.' It isn't that bad, dissecting

toads is worse."

"Right," said Harry grimly. "Thanks a lot, Demelza."

"And on that cheery note the chapter ends," announced Regulus.

"And what a fun chapter it was," said Severus sarcastically, "hopefully my

next one will be more interesting."

"Only one way to find out," said Alice cheerily, "off you hop Sevi-kins."

The look on Severus' face indicated that Alice Smith would be in for a

world of pain if she used that name again. Finally with an icy glare that

could freeze the fires of hell itself, Severus took the book and turned to the

next chapter.

AN: Thanks for reading, please review! Cheers!

12. Chapter 12

Silver and Opals

AN: Here is the next chapter. I will keep this brief. Thanks to all who

reviewed. I don't own anything you can recognise, please enjoy. Happy

Reading, Cheers!

Severus stared down at the chapter title and did not look impressed, it

seemed he was going to be reading about jewellery or some other inane and

insipid subject, "Silver and Opals," he read out shortly.

"Seems you might get your wish Snape, it sounds like there is an interesting

chapter ahead," commented Sirius sarcastically.

"You have no idea," said Hermione.

Where was Dumbledore, and what was he doing?

"I ask myself the same question quite often," said Minerva.

Harry caught sight of the headmaster only twice over the next few

weeks. He rarely appeared at meals anymore, and Harry was sure

Hermione was right in thinking that he was leaving the school for days

at a time. Had Dumbledore forgotten the lessons he was supposed to be

giving Harry? Dumbledore had said that the lessons were leading to

something to do with the prophecy; Harry had felt bolstered,

comforted, and now he felt slightly abandoned.

"If nothing else, Albus would not have forgotten it, especially if it is about

Riddle's past, he might be busy trying to find information, of course the

Order would be rather time consuming as well," commented Minerva.

Halfway through October came their first trip of the term to

Hogsmeade. Harry had wondered whether these trips would still be

allowed, given the increasingly tight security measures around the

school, but was pleased to know that they were going ahead; it was

always good to get out of the castle grounds for a few hours.

"Aww," said Hermione, "he didn't mention my birthday, probably wasn't

exciting enough."

"It would be your coming of age too," said Frank, "what was it like?"

"It was good, one of the elves, I am assuming Dobby made a cake for me

and we ate it in common room together, nothing extravagant, but it was

fun."

"What did you get?" asked Lily curiously, "I hope my son remembered to

get you a present!"

"Of course, Ron and Harry bought me this, though I think the idea came

from Harry," said Hermione, as she pulled out a necklace from around her

neck, it was simple and understated silver in the shape of a winged key,

with the number seventeen engraved on it.

"That is really nice," said Alice when she walked over to get a closer look at

it, "why a key though?"

"It is a muggle tradition, when someone comes of age, usually either at 18

or 21 they are given a key, which is symbolic, which is why I think the idea

was Harry's as out of him and Ron, he would be the one who would know

about that tradition. Since it was my coming of age in the wizarding world,

I was given a key necklace, it was a really nice gesture I thought. The fact it

is a winged key is reminiscent of our first adventure against Quirrell in first

year, one of the obstacles were flying keys. So it is a really one of my most

valued possessions."

"Isn't my son sweet!" said Lily, "I'm proud of him."

"I'm sure it is a nice necklace love, but I am sure that I speak for everyone

with a Y chromosome in this room when I say it is time to move on," said

James.

Harry woke early on the morning of the trip, which was proving

stormy, and whiled away the time until breakfast by reading his copy of

Advanced Potion-Making. He did not usually lie in bed reading his

textbooks; that sort of behaviour, as Ron rightly said, was indecent in

anybody except Hermione, who was simply weird that way.

Harry felt, however, that the Half-Blood Princes copy of Advanced

Potion-Making hardly qualified as a textbook. The more Harry pored

over the book, the more he realized how much was in there, not only

the handy hints and shortcuts on potions that was earning him such a

glowing reputation with Slughorn, but also the imaginative little jinxes

and hexes scribbled in the margins, which Harry was sure, judging by

the crossings-out and revisions, that the Prince had invented himself.

Lily felt like clearly her throat, but restrained herself.

Harry had already attempted a few of the Prince's self-invented spells.

There had been a hex that caused toenails to grow alarmingly fast (he

had tried this on Crabbe in the corridor, with very entertaining

results); a jinx that glued the tongue to the roof of the mouth (which he

had twice used, to general applause, on an unsuspecting Argus Filch);

and, perhaps most useful of all, Muffliato, a spell that filled the ears of

anyone nearby with an unidentifiable buzzing, so that lengthy

conversations could be held in class without being overheard.

"Does he know what the spells are before he tests them?" asked Sirius,

"because that could be dangerous, after all it is only luck which has allowed

for the fact that those were all tame spells, it could be bad if there was

something dark in there, he should at least test them on dummies first."

"I never thought I would see the day when Paddy would lecture us on

elementary wand safety, particularly after the buffalo incident," said Remus

looking decidedly amused.

"Perhaps, but at least I knew what I was meant to be doing, one of my

calculations didn't pan out... if you haven't guessed already, I have read

about some pretty bad spells, and trust me I wouldn't want any of those to

be used accidentally on someone due to their own ignorance about what it

does."

Hermione felt slightly more vindicated in terms of her attitude towards the

book, but only slightly, she still felt bad for trying to take away Harry's

connection to Lily in potions.

The only person who did not find these charms amusing was Hermione,

who maintained a rigidly disapproving expression throughout and

refused to talk at all if Harry had used the Muffliato spell on anyone in

the vicinity.

Sitting up in bed, Harry turned the book sideways so as to examine

more closely the scribbled instructions for a spell that seemed to have

caused the Prince some trouble. There were many crossings-out and

alterations, but finally, crammed into a corner of the page, the scribble:

Levicorpus (nvbl)

"I know that one, levicorpus, that would levitate the body, or corpus," said

James, "it seems the Prince guy is before our time, because we use that spell

at the moment."

"I know," muttered Severus bitterly, before turning back to the book.

While the wind and sleet pounded relentlessly on the windows, and

Neville snored loudly, Harry stared at the letters in brackets. Nvbl…

that had to mean "nonverbal." Harry rather doubted he would be able

to bring off this particular spell; he was still having difficulty with

nonverbal spells, something Snape had been quick to comment on in

every D.A.D.A. class. On the other hand, the Prince had proved a much

more effective teacher than Snape so far.

For some reason, no-one knew why, Lily found that utterly hilarious.

"I always thought she was crazy," commented Frank dryly.

"She proved that when she finally started dating Prongs," pointed out

Remus.

Pointing his wand at nothing in particular, he gave it an upward flick

and said Levicorpus! inside his head.

"Aaaaaaaargh!"

There was a flash of light and the room was full of voices: Everyone

had woken up as Ron had let out a yell. Harry sent Advanced Potion-

Making flying in panic; Ron was dangling upside down in midair as

though an invisible hook had hoisted him up by the ankle.

The room filled with laughter at the image painted by the book.

"What an inventive way to wake someone up," commented Sirius with a

rather devious look on his face.

"Don't you dare," said Remus, "I will personally kill and dismember you if

you do that to me!"

"Sorry!" yelled Harry, as Dean and Seamus roared with laughter, and

Neville picked himself up from the floor, having fallen out of Bed.

"Hang on — I'll let you down —"

He groped for the potion book and riffled through it in a panic, trying

to find the right page; at last he located it and deciphered the cramped

word underneath the spell: Praying that this was the counter-jinx,

Harry thought Liberacorpus! with all his might. There was another

flash of light, and Ron fell in a heap onto his mattress.

"Sorry," repeated Harry weakly, while Dean and Seamus continued to

roar with laughter.

"Tomorrow," said Ron in a muffled voice, "I'd rather you set the alarm

clock."

The room filled with laughter again.

By the time they had got dressed, padding themselves out with several

of Mrs. Weasleys hand-knitted sweaters and carrying cloaks, scarves,

and gloves, Ron's shock had subsided and he had decided that Harry's

new spell was highly amusing; so amusing, in fact, that he lost no time

in regaling Hermione with the story as they sat down for breakfast.

"… and then there was another flash, of light and I landed on the bed

again!" Ron grinned, helping himself to sausages.

Hermione had not cracked a smile during this anecdote, and now

turned an expression of wintry disapproval upon Harry.

"Was this spell, by any chance, another one from that potion book of

yours?" she asked.

Harry frowned at her. "Always jump to the worst conclusion, don't

you?"

"Was it?"

"Well… yeah, it was, but so what?"

"So you just decided to try out an unknown, handwritten incantation

and see what would happen?"

"You have a point," said Sirius.

"I know," said Hermione her smug tone, masking her regret at her actions

that year.

"Why does it matter if it's handwritten?" said Harry, preferring not to

answer the rest of the question.

"Because it's probably not Ministry of Magic approved," said

Hermione. "And also," she added, as Harry and Ron rolled their eyes,

"because I'm starting to think this Prince character was a bit dodgy."

Both Harry and Ron shouted her down at once.

"It was a laugh!" said Ron, upending a ketchup bottle over his

sausages. "Just a laugh, Hermione, that's all!"

"Dangling people upside down by the ankle?" said Hermione. "Who

puts their time and energy into making up spells like that?"

James avoided eye contact and began whistling very loudly. While Lily and

Severus were exchanging amused glances.

"Fred and George," said Ron, shrugging, "it's their kind of thing. And,

er —"

"My dad," said Harry. He had only just remembered.

"What?" said Ron and Hermione together.

"My dad used this spell," said Harry. "I — Lupin told me."

"Liar," whistled the past version of the aforementioned werewolf.

This last part was not true; in fact, Harry had seen his father use the

spell on Snape, but he had never told Ron and Hermione about that

particular excursion into the Pensieve. Now, however, a wonderful

possibility occurred to him. Could the Half-Blood Prince possibly be

—?

Severus almost felt like throwing up, James Potter was definitely not going

to take credit for the invention of his and Lily's spells, although come to

think of it, he was actually the inspiration they had in their heads when

inventing their spells, so as their 'muse' per say, perhaps he did have some

claim after all.

"Maybe your dad did use it, Harry," said Hermione, "but he's not the

only one. We've seen a whole bunch of people use it, in case you've

forgotten. Dangling people in the air. Making them float along, asleep,

helpless."

"Death eaters," said Regulus immediately recognising where Hermione was

going.

Harry stared at her. With a sinking feeling, he too remembered the

behaviour of the Death Eaters at the Quidditch World Cup. Ron came

to his aid.

"That was different," he said robustly. "They were abusing it. Harry

and his dad were just having a laugh. You don't like the Prince,

Hermione," he added, pointing a sausage at her sternly, "because he's

better than you at Potions —"

"It's got nothing to do with that!" said Hermione, her cheeks

reddening.

"Liar," sang Alice.

"Okay, I was a touch jealous," admitted Hermione.

"A touch?" asked Severus pointedly.

"That is all I will admit to," said Hermione.

"I just think it's very irresponsible to start performing spells when you

don't even know what they're for, and stop talking about 'the Prince' as

if it's his title, I bet it's just a stupid nickname, and it doesn't seem as

though he was a very nice person to me!"

"I don't see where you get that from," said Harry heatedly. "If he'd

been a budding Death Eater he wouldn't have been boasting about

being 'half-blood,' would he?"

Even as he said it, Harry remembered that his father had been pure-

blood, but he pushed the thought out of his mind; he would worry

about that later.

"The Death Eaters can't all be pure-blood, there aren't enough pure-

blood wizards left," said Hermione stubbornly. "I expect most of them

are half-bloods pretending to be pure. It's only Muggle-borns they hate,

they'd be quite happy to let you and Ron join up."

"Are you quite sure about that?" asked Regulus sarcastically.

"There is no way they'd let me be a Death Eater!" said Ron

indignantly, a bit of sausage flying off the fork he was now brandishing

at Hermione and hitting Ernie Macmillan on the head. "My whole

family are blood traitors! That's as bad as Muggle-borns to Death

Eaters!"

"And they'd love to have me," said Harry sarcastically. "We'd be best

pals if they didn't keep trying to do me in."

"I will concede that I spoke without thinking," said Hermione.

This made Ron laugh; even Hermione gave a grudging smile, and a

distraction arrived in the shape of Ginny.

"Hey, Harry, I'm supposed to give you this."

It was a scroll of parchment with Harry's name written upon it in

familiar thin, slanting writing.

"Thanks, Ginny… It's Dumbledore's next lesson!" Harry told Ron and

Hermione, pulling open the parchment and quickly reading its

contents.

"Monday evening!" He felt suddenly light and happy. "Want to join us

in Hogsmeade, Ginny?" he asked.

"I'm going with Dean — might see you there," she replied, waving at

them as she left.

Filch was standing at the oak front doors as usual, checking off the

names of people who had permission to go into Hogsmeade. The

process took even longer than normal as Filch was triple-checking

everybody with his Secrecy Sensor.

"What does it matter if we're smuggling Dark stuff OUT?" demanded

Ron, eyeing the long thin Secrecy Sensor with apprehension. "Surely

you ought to be checking what we bring back IN?"

"Are you sure you want to ask that when Filch is armed with a long, pointed

thing?"

His cheek earned him a few extra jabs with the Sensor, and he was still

wincing as they stepped out into the wind and sleet.

The walk into Hogsmeade was not enjoyable. Harry wrapped his scarf

over his lower face; the exposed part soon felt both raw and numb. The

road to the village was full of students bent double against the bitter

wind. More than once Harry wondered whether they might not have

had a better time in the warm common room, and when they finally

reached Hogsmeade and saw that Zonko's Joke Shop had been

boarded up, Harry took it as confirmation that this trip was not

destined to be fun. Ron pointed, with a thickly gloved hand, toward

Honeydukes, which was mercifully open, and Harry and Hermione

staggered in his wake into the crowded shop.

"Thank God," shivered Ron as they were enveloped by warm, toffee-

scented air. "Let's stay here all afternoon."

"Harry, m'boy!" said a booming voice from behind them.

"Oh no," muttered Harry. The three of them turned to see Professor

Slughorn, who was wearing an enormous furry hat and an overcoat

with matching fur collar, clutching a large bag of crystalized pineapple,

and occupying at least a quarter of the shop.

"Harry, that's three of my little suppers you've missed now!" said

Slughorn, poking him genially in the chest.

"It won't do, m'boy, I'm determined to have you! Miss Granger loves

them, don't you?"

"Yes," said Hermione helplessly, "they're really —"

"Shut up!" said Hermione indignantly, when she noticed Sirius laughing at

her.

"So why don't you come along, Harry?" demanded Slughorn.

"Well, I've had Quidditch practice, Professor," said Harry, who had

indeed been scheduling practices every time Slughorn had sent him a

little, violet ribbon-adorned invitation. This strategy meant that Ron

was not left out, and they usually had a laugh with Ginny, imagining

Hermione shut up with McLaggen and Zabini.

"I hate him, I truly hate him," said Hermione.

"Well, I certainly expect you to win your first match after all the hard

work!" said Slughorn. "But a little recreation never hurt anybody.

Now, how about Monday night, you can't possibly want to practice in

this weather…"

"I can't, Professor, I've got — er — an appointment with Professor

Dumbledore that evening."

"Unlucky again!" cried Slughorn dramatically. "Ah, well… you can't

evade me forever, Harry!"

"But he can try," said Regulus, "and he is obviously succeeding."

And with a regal wave, he waddled out of the shop, taking as little

notice of Ron as though he had been a display of Cockroach Clusters.

"I can't believe you've wriggled out of another one," said Hermione,

shaking her head. "They're not that bad, you know… They're even

quite fun sometimes…" But then she caught sight of Ron's expression.

"Oh, look — they've got deluxe sugar quills — those would last hours!"

Glad that Hermione had changed the subject, Harry showed much

more interest in the new extra-large sugar quills than he would

normally have done, but Ron continued to look moody and merely

shrugged when Hermione asked him where he wanted to go next.

"Let's go to the Three Broomsticks," said Harry. "It'll be warm."

They bundled their scarves back over their faces and left the

sweetshop. The bitter wind was like knives on their faces after the

sugary warmth of Honeydukes. The street was not very busy; nobody

was lingering to chat, just hurrying toward their destinations. The

exceptions were two men a little ahead of them, standing just outside

the Three Broomsticks. One was very tall and thin; squinting through

his rain-washed glasses Harry recognized the barman who worked in

the other Hogsmeade pub, the Hog's Head. As Harry, Ron, and

Hermione drew closer, the barman drew his cloak more tightly around

his neck and walked away, leaving the shorter man to fumble with

something in his arms. They were barely feet from him when Harry

realized who the man was.

"Mundungus!"

The squat, bandy-legged man with long, straggly, ginger hair jumped

and dropped an ancient suitcase, which burst open, releasing what

looked like the entire contents of a junk shop window.

"What was he doing in the Hogs Head? Isn't he banned from there?" asked

Minerva.

"Oh, 'ello, 'Arry," said Mundungus Fletcher, with a most unconvincing

stab at airiness. "Well, don't let me keep ya."

"Sounds suspicious," commented Frank.

"It's Mungdungus," said Hermione, "everything he does is suspicious."

And he began scrabbling on the ground to retrieve the contents of his

suitcase with every appearance of a man eager to be gone.

"Are you selling this stuff?" asked Harry, watching Mundungus grab

an assortment of grubby-looking objects from the ground.

"Oh, well, gotta scrape a living," said Mundungus. "Gimme that!"

"What is that stuff?" asked Regulus suspiciously, now knowing about

Dung's sticky fingers.

Ron had stooped down and picked up something silver.

"Hang on," Ron said slowly. "This looks familiar —"

"Thank you!" said Mundungus, snatching the goblet out of Ron's hand

and stuffing it back into the case. "Well, I'll see you all — OUCH!"

The corners of Severus' mouth crept upward as he read the next passage,

seemed Potter had a temper.

Harry had pinned Mundungus against the wall of the pub by the

throat. Holding him fast with one hand, he pulled out his wand.

"What is he doing?" asked Lily looking shocked.

"Harry!" squealed Hermione.

"You took that from Sirius's house," said Harry, who was almost nose

to nose with Mundungus and was breathing in an unpleasant smell of

old tobacco and spirits. "That had the Black family crest on it."

"He's selling our family heirlooms?" asked Regulus looking outraged,

unlike his brother he had nothing against his family's history and the stories

which surrounded the many heirlooms.

"If only Mother was alive that day," said Sirius wistfully.

"That isn't the point Sirius and you know it," said Regulus, "even though

you have the whole rebellious thing going, that doesn't stop the fact that this

is our family's history being pawned away, your godson's inheritance as

well. I don't think it is right that our entire history, which believe it or not is

not all bad, is being sold on back alley streets by criminals."

"Feisty little kitty cat isn't he," said Sirius, looking somewhat amused, the

regard of family heirlooms was a long-time point of contention between the

two.

"Hey! Put a sock in it mutt!" said Regulus, "at least I am the proud Prince of

the lions rather than someone's lapdog!"

"Meow," taunted Sirius, "little prince has found his claws, pity dogs hunt

and eat little kitties like you for breakfast, claws and all."

"Would you like to calm down and explain the joke, or shall we allow you

to take it outside and fight it out like children?" asked Remus dryly, acting

as mediator between the brothers.

"Very well, would you like to explain Sirius or should I?" asked Regulus.

"Seems little kitty doesn't have a lion's heart after all," said Sirius getting a

final barb in, "it is a play on our names, astronomy 101 if you will, Sirius is

the brightest star in the Canis Major constellation, making it the dog star-"

"And the constellation Orion's lapdog," added in Regulus with a grin,

before taking over the explanation, "Regulus means prince or little king,

and is the brightest star in the Leo constellation..."

"Which makes my brother either a Gryffindor or a little kitty cat," finished

Sirius, "by the way he takes exception to being called both of those names,

if anyone is interested."

"So that would make Regulus the Lion King," said Hermione with a smirk,

however no one seemed to get the joke.

"I suppose it does," said Regulus proudly, taking the comment at face value.

"Perhaps I should start calling you Simba then," teased Hermione. However

still no one got the joke, not even those raised in the muggle-world, which

suddenly awoke Hermione to the fact that the movie didn't come out until

she was at Hogwarts... no wonder she was getting blank face.

"How is that relevant?" asked Regulus, looking decidedly confused.

"I just realised, it is a muggle thing, a future muggle thing at that. When I

was in my fourth year a movie came out called the Lion King, and the

prince turned king of the Lions in that film was called Simba. Good movie,

Disney movie actually," finished Hermione, the last part was added for Lily

and Severus, who would actually know what a Disney movie was and why

it would be such a popular movie in the future.

"Alright, moving on then," said Severus turning back to the book.

"I — no — what —?" spluttered Mundungus, who was slowly turning

purple.

"What did you do, go back the night he died and strip the place?"

snarled Harry.

"Why that little bugger," said James, while he wasn't crazy about the Black

family as a whole, he couldn't abide by the fact that such disrespect was

being paid to his best friend in the future.

"I — no —"

"Give it to me!"

"Harry, you mustn't!" shrieked Hermione, as Mundungus started to

turn blue. There was a bang, and Harry felt his hands fly off

Mundungus's throat. Gasping and spluttering, Mundungus seized his

fallen case, then — CRACK — he Disapparated.

"Who hexed Harry?" asked Lily.

"I did," admitted Hermione, "however considering what Dung is, I probably

should have conjured a few frying pans instead or set Kreacher on him."

Sirius snorted, although not getting Hermione's reference to the future, he

could imagine Kreacher happily punishing Dung for stealing his precious

Black family heirlooms.

Harry swore at the top of his voice, spinning on the spot to see where

Mundungus had gone.

"COME BACK, YOU THIEVING —!"

"There's no point, Harry." Tonks had appeared out of nowhere, her

mousy hair wet with sleet. "Mundungus will probably be in London by

now. There's no point yelling."

"Apart from making himself feel better," pointed out Remus, "yelling can

be rather cathartic."

"He's nicked Sirius's stuff! Nicked it!"

"Yes, but still," said Tonks, who seemed perfectly untroubled by this

piece of information. "You should get out of the cold."

She watched them go through the door of the Three Broom-sticks. The

moment he was inside, Harry burst out, "He was nicking Sirius's

stuff!"

"I know, Harry, but please don't shout, people are staring," whispered

Hermione. "Go and sit down, I'll get you a drink."

Harry was still fuming when Hermione returned to their table a few

minutes later holding three bottles of butterbeer.

"Can't the Order control Mundungus?" Harry demanded of the other

two in a furious whisper. "Can't they at least stop him stealing

everything that's not fixed down when he's at headquarters?"

"Shh!" said Hermione desperately, looking around to make sure

nobody was listening; there were a couple of warlocks sitting close by

who were staring at Harry with great interest, and Zabini was lolling

against a pillar not far away. "Harry, I'd be annoyed too, I know it's

your things he's stealing —"

Harry gagged on his butterbeer; he had momentarily forgotten that he

owned number twelve, Grimmauld Place.

"Wow," said Regulus, "that is some kid, most people his age would be over

the moon to have inherited such a huge trove of valuables, the heirlooms

alone are worth quite a bit. It is rather touching to see that he is more

concerned with my brother's memory than with the financial losses he

would be making through the theft of his valuables."

"You have a remarkable son," complimented Albus to Lily and James,

"such an attitude is truly rare."

"Yeah, it's my stuff!" he said. "No wonder he wasn't pleased to see me!

Well, I'm going to tell Dumbledore what's going on, he's the only one

who scares Mundungus."

"Good idea," whispered Hermione, clearly pleased that Harry was

calming down. "Ron, what are you staring at?"

"Nothing," said Ron, hastily looking away from the bar, but Harry

knew he was trying to catch the eye of the curvy and attractive

barmaid, Madam Rosmerta, for whom he had long nursed a soft spot.

"I expect 'nothing's' in the back getting more firewhisky," said

Hermione waspishly.

"You noticed too?" smirked Alice, reading the signs of Hermione's

behaviour rather well, she was female after all.

"Ron can have all the subtly of a sledgehammer, he was rather obvious

about his interest," commented Hermione, "it was actually quite amusing

some of the things he use to do to get her attention. He once tried to take the

bottles back to the bar for her, probably to impress her or steal a glance of

her while she was bending over or something, but he ended up losing his

balance and landed flat on his face and sent all of the bottles flying, it was

hilarious."

Ron ignored this jibe, sipping his drink in what he evidently considered

to be a dignified silence. Harry was thinking about Sirius, and how he

had hated those silver goblets anyway. Hermione drummed her fingers

on the table, her eyes flickering between Ron and the bar. The moment

Harry drained the last drops in his bottle she said, "Shall we call it a

day and go back to school, then?"

The other two nodded; it had not been a fun trip and the weather was

getting worse the longer they stayed. Once again they drew their cloaks

tightly around them, rearranged their scarves, pulled on their gloves,

then followed Katie Bell and a friend out of the pub and back up the

High Street. Harry's thoughts strayed to Ginny as they trudged up the

road to Hogwarts through the frozen slush. They had not met up with

her, undoubtedly, thought Harry, because she and Dean were cozily

closeted in Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop, that haunt of happy couples.

Scowling, he bowed his head against the swirling sleet and trudged on.

"Is he jealous as well?" asked Alice, "hopefully his second shot at true love

is better than his first attempt, but just as amusing for our sakes. Although

may I point out it seems that young Harry has a tendency to like other

people's girlfriends."

It was a little while before Harry became aware that the voices of Katie

Bell and her friend, which were being carried back to him on the wind,

had become shriller and louder. Harry squinted at their indistinct

figures. The two girls were having an argument about something Katie

was holding in her hand. "It's nothing to do with you, Leanne!" Harry

heard Katie say.

They rounded a corner in the lane, sleet coming thick and fast, blurring

Harry's glasses. Just as he raised a gloved hand to wipe them, Leanne

made to grab hold of the package Katie was holding; Katie tugged it

back and the package fell to the ground. At once, Katie rose into the

air, not as Ron had done, suspended comically by the ankle, but

gracefully, her arms outstretched, as though she was about to fly. Yet

there was something wrong, something eerie… Her hair was whipped

around her by the fierce wind, but her eyes were closed and her face

was quite empty of expression. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Leanne had

all halted in their tracks, watching.

"What in Merlin's name was that girl holding?" said Regulus, "it sounds

like she has touched something that has been enchanted with a dark spell."

"Seems Snape got his wish for an eventful chapter after all," said James.

Then, six feet above the ground, Katie let out a terrible scream. Her

eyes flew open but whatever she could see, or whatever she was feeling,

was clearly causing her terrible anguish. She screamed and screamed;

Leanne started to scream too and seized Katie's ankles, trying to tug

her back to the ground. Harry, Ron, and Hermione rushed forward to

help, but even as they grabbed Katie's legs, she fell on top of them;

Harry and Ron managed to catch her but she was writhing so much

they could hardly hold her. Instead they lowered her to the ground

where she thrashed and screamed, apparently unable to recognize any

of them.

"What has happened to her?" asked Lily looking worried, "I have never

heard of a spell which causes that before."

"I have," said Sirius grimly, "it looks like one which is commonly used by

the older families to guard their family heirlooms and stop people from

stealing them or being sold for things such as gambling debts. Let's just say

there is a reason they aren't taught as part of the Hogwarts curriculum."

"One of the many reason I am glad to be a muggle-born," said Hermione,

"purebloods are psychos."

"You do know you are in a room full of them," pointed out Frank.

"None of which seem to be remotely sane, which proves her point quite

nicely if you ask me," added Lily.

Harry looked around; the landscape seemed deserted.

"Stay there!" he shouted at the others over the howling wind. "I'm

going for help!"

He began to sprint toward the school; he had never seen anyone behave

as Katie had just behaved and could not think what had caused it; he

hurtled around a bend in the lane and collided with what seemed to be

an enormous bear on its hind legs.

"Hagrid!" he panted, disentangling himself from the hedgerow into

which he had fallen.

"That's good," said James, "probably quicker than running all the way back

to the school."

"Harry!" said Hagrid, who had sleet trapped in his eyebrows and

beard, and was wearing his great, shaggy beaverskin coat. "Jus' bin

visitin' Grawp, he's comin' on so well yeh wouldn' —"

"Hagrid, someone's hurt back there, or cursed, or something —"

"Wha?" said Hagrid, bending lower to hear what Harry was saying

over the raging wind.

"Someone's been cursed!" bellowed Harry.

"Cursed? Who's bin cursed — not Ron? Hermione?"

"No, it's not them, it's Katie Bell — this way…"

Together they ran back along the lane. It took them no time to find the

little group of people around Katie, who was still writhing and

screaming on the ground; Ron, Hermione, and Leanne were all trying

to quiet her.

"Get back!" shouted Hagrid. "Lemme see her!"

"Something's happened to her!" sobbed Leanne. "I don't know what

—"

Hagrid stared at Katie for a second, then without a word, bent down,

scooped her into his arms, and ran off toward the castle with her.

Within seconds, Katie's piercing screams had died away and the only

sound was the roar of the wind. Hermione hurried over to Katie's

wailing friend and put an arm around her.

"It's Leanne, isn't it?"

The girl nodded.

"Did it just happen all of a sudden, or —?"

"It was when that package tore," sobbed Leanne, pointing at the now

sodden brown-paper package on the ground, which had split open to

reveal a greenish glitter. Ron bent down, his hand out-stretched, but

Harry seized his arm and pulled him back.

"Don't touch it!"

"That Merlin that Harry has such good instincts when in danger," said

Remus, "otherwise Ron would be dead, although I must say that it should

be rather obvious that when touching that thing did that to Katie that it

would not be smart to try it yourself."

Hermione shook her head, looking rather shocked, it seemed that Harry

saved Ron's life a second time that year. She couldn't imagine how close she

and Ron probably came to dying without Harry being able to think

rationally or rather instinctively under pressure: he saved her from being

mauled by Grawp in the previous book and now saved Ron's life at least

twice in this, not counting the events of the department of mysteries or the

incident with the troll in first year.

He crouched down. An ornate opal necklace was visible, poking out of

the paper.

"I've seen that before," said Harry, staring at the thing. "It was on

display in Borgin and Burkes ages ago. The label said it was cursed.

Katie must have touched it." He looked up at Leanne, who had started

to shake uncontrollably. "How did Katie get hold of this?"

"Good question," said Minerva sternly, she didn't like seeing any of her

students, present or future being harmed.

"Well, that's why we were arguing. She came back from the bathroom

in the Three Broomsticks holding it, said it was a surprise for

somebody at Hogwarts and she had to deliver it. She looked all funny

when she said it… Oh no, oh no, I bet she'd been Imperiused and I

didn't realize!"

"Likely," admitted Regulus.

Leanne shook with renewed sobs. Hermione patted her shoulder gently.

"She didn't say who'd given it to her, Leanne?"

"No… she wouldn't tell me… and I said she was being stupid and not to

take it up to school, but she just wouldn't listen and… and then I tried

to grab it from her… and — and —"

Leanne let out a wail of despair.

"Who was she meant to give it too?" asked Sirius suspiciously, that could be

the key to opening the mystery of Draco's mission, he suspected that even if

not done directly he would be the mastermind, scratch that, just mind (there

was nothing masterful about it in his opinion) behind the operation even if

he didn't do it directly.

"We'd better get up to school," said Hermione, her arm still around

Leanne. "We'll be able to find out how she is. Come on…"

Harry hesitated for a moment, then pulled his scarf from around his

face and, ignoring Ron's gasp, carefully covered the necklace in it and

picked it up.

"We'll need to show this to Madam Pomfrey," he said.

As they followed Hermione and Leanne up the road, Harry was

thinking furiously. They had just entered the grounds when he spoke,

unable to keep his thoughts to himself any longer.

"Malfoy knows about this necklace. It was in a case at Borgin and

Burkes four years ago, I saw him having a good look at it while I was

hiding from him and his dad. This is what he was buying that day when

we followed him! He remembered it and he went back for it!"

"I — I dunno, Harry," said Ron hesitantly. "Loads of people go to

Borgin and Burkes… and didn't that girl say Katie got it in the girls'

bathroom?"

"First point," said Regulus, "I doubt Borgin and Burkes have a huge

Hogwarts clientele, firstly none of the students could afford the stuff sold in

there, secondly the guy has a brain and would not sell anything to a student,

which are not known for their subtly or ability not to implicate the shop in

their nefarious deeds."

"She said she came back from the bathroom with it, she didn't

necessarily get it in the bathroom itself —"

"Good point," added James.

"McGonagall!" said Ron warningly.

Harry looked up. Sure enough, Professor McGonagall was hurrying

down the stone steps through swirling sleet to meet them.

"Hagrid says you four saw what happened to Katie Bell — upstairs to

my office at once, please! What's that you're holding, Potter?"

"It's the thing she touched," said Harry.

"Good lord," said Professor McGonagall, looking alarmed as she took

the necklace from Harry.

"No, no, Filch, they're with me!" she added hastily, as Filch came

shuffling eagerly across the entrance hall holding his Secrecy Sensor

aloft. "Take this necklace to Professor Snape at once, but be sure not to

touch it, keep it wrapped in the scarf!"

"Why Snape?" asked James.

"As you frequently like to point out Potter, my knowledge in the dark arts is

probably unparralelled, present company excluded most likely, which

means I would be the most capable of figuring out what in Merlin's name

was going on with that necklace and perhaps the best way to help the

students, by the sounds of it, it would be beyond the skills of a basic medi-

witch."

Harry and the others followed Professor McGonagall upstairs and into

her office. The sleet-spattered windows were rattling in their frames,

and the room was chilly despite the fire crackling in the grate.

Professor McGonagall closed the door and swept around her desk to

face Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the still sobbing Leanne.

"Well?" she said sharply. "What happened?"

Haltingly, and with many pauses while she attempted to control her

crying, Leanne told Professor McGonagall how Katie had gone to the

bathroom in the Three Broomsticks and returned holding the

unmarked package, how Katie had seemed a little odd, and how they

had argued about the advisability of agreeing to deliver unknown

objects, the argument culminating in the tussle over the parcel, which

tore open. At this point, Leanne was so overcome, there was no getting

another word out of her.

"All right," said Professor McGonagall, not unkindly, "go up to the

hospital wing, please, Leanne, and get Madam Pomfrey to give you

something for shock."

When she had left the room, Professor McGonagall turned back to

Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"What happened when Katie touched the necklace?"

"She rose up in the air," said Harry, before either Ron or Hermione

could speak, "and then began to scream, and collapsed. Professor, can I

see Professor Dumbledore, please?"

"The headmaster is away until Monday, Potter," said Professor

McGonagall, looking surprised.

"I always wondered how Harry could always surprise you with everything

that came out of his mouth, you would think your future self would be used

to it by now," commented Hermione wryly.

"Away?" Harry repeated angrily.

"Yes, Potter, away!" said Professor McGonagall tartly. "But anything

you have to say about this horrible business can be said to me, I'm

sure!"

For a split second, Harry hesitated. Professor McGonagall did not

invite confidences; Dumbledore, though in many ways more

intimidating, still seemed less likely to scorn a theory, however wild.

"I'm guessing my future self is in for another shocking revelation from Mr

Potter then," commented Minerva, "although we can probably guess what it

is knowing his perspective."

This was a life-and-death matter, though, and no moment to worry

about being laughed at.

"I think Draco Malfoy gave Katie that necklace, Professor."

On one side of him, Ron rubbed his nose in apparent embarrassment;

on the other, Hermione shuffled her feet as though quite keen to put a

bit of distance between herself and Harry.

"That is a very serious accusation, Potter," said Professor McGonagall,

after a shocked pause. "Do you have any proof?"

"No," said Harry, "but…" and he told her about following Malfoy to

Borgin and Burkes and the conversation they had over-heard between

him and Mr. Borgin.

When he had finished speaking, Professor McGonagall looked slightly

confused.

"Malfoy took something to Borgin and Burkes for repair?"

"No, Professor, he just wanted Borgin to tell him how to mend

something, he didn't have it with him. But that's not the point, the

thing is that he bought something at the same time, and I think it was

that necklace —"

"You saw Malfoy leaving the shop with a similar package?"

"No, Professor, he told Borgin to keep it in the shop for him —"

"But Harry," Hermione interrupted, "Borgin asked him if he wanted to

take it with him, and Malfoy said no —"

"You aren't really helping Mie," observed Sirius.

"I wasn't exactly convinced myself at that point," admitted Hermione.

"Which implies that our son was right?" asked James pointedly, to which

Hermione stared at the ground.

"Because he didn't want to touch it, obviously!" said Harry angrily.

"What he actually said was, 'How would I look carrying that down the

street?'" said Hermione.

"Well, he would look a bit of a prat carrying a necklace," interjected

Ron.

"That is true," conceded Alice with a bit of a smile.

"Oh, Ron," said Hermione despairingly, "it would be all wrapped up,

so he wouldn't have to touch it, and quite easy to hide inside a cloak, so

nobody would see it! I think whatever he reserved at Borgin and

Burkes was noisy or bulky, something he knew would draw attention to

him if he carried it down the street — and in any case," she pressed on

loudly, before Harry could interrupt, "I asked Borgin about the

necklace, don't you remember? When I went in to try and find out

what Malfoy had asked him to keep, I saw it there. And Borgin just

told me the price, he didn't say it was already sold or anything —"

"That is fairly logical, however that doesn't mean one of his friends didn't

get it for him and arrange the drop and the scenario," said Regulus, "you do

have a rather remarkable brain, even if your lying abilities are not quite up

to scratch."

"Well, you were being really obvious, he realized what you were up to

within about five seconds, of course he wasn't going to tell you —

anyway, Malfoy could've sent off for it since —"

"That's enough!" said Professor McGonagall, as Hermione opened her

mouth to retort, looking furious. "Potter, I appreciate you telling me

this, but we cannot point the finger of blame at Mr. Malfoy purely

because he visited the shop where this necklace might have been

purchased. The same is probably true of hundreds of people —"

"— that's what I said —" muttered Ron.

"Not students though," reminded Sirius.

"— and in any case, we have put stringent security measures in place

this year. I do not believe that necklace can possibly have entered this

school without our knowledge —"

"But —"

"— and what is more," said Professor McGonagall, with an air of awful

finality, "Mr. Malfoy was not in Hogsmeade today."

"Now that is interesting," commented Lily, "seems he has an alibi, but if it

wasn't him, who else could it be?"

"A Professor perhaps?" said James casually, given the conversation they

witnessed earlier in the book, it would seem Snape was likely going to

become a major antagonist in this story, which meant it would be foolish

not to table him as a possible suspect.

Harry gaped at her, deflating.

"How do you know, Professor?"

"Because he was doing detention with me. He has now failed to

complete his Transfiguration homework twice in a row. So, thank you

for telling me your suspicions, Potter," she said as she marched past

them, "but I need to go up to the hospital wing now to check on Katie

Bell. Good day to you all."

She held open her office door. They had no choice but to file past her

without another word.

Harry was angry with the other two for siding with McGonagall;

nevertheless, he felt compelled to join in once they started discussing

what had happened.

"So who do you reckon Katie was supposed to give the necklace to?"

asked Ron, as they climbed the stairs to the common room.

"Goodness only knows," said Hermione. "But whoever it was has had a

narrow escape. No one could have opened that package without

touching the necklace."

"It could've been meant for loads of people," said Harry. "Dumbledore

— the Death Eaters would love to get rid of him, he must be one of

their top targets. Or Slughorn — Dumbledore reckons Voldemort

really wanted him and they can't be pleased that he's sided with

Dumbledore. Or —"

"Or you," said Hermione, looking troubled.

"You thought of it too?" asked Regulus, "I doubt it is the case, but it is a

possibility."

"Couldn't have been," said Harry, "or Katie would've just turned

around in the lane and given it to me, wouldn't she? I was behind her

all the way out of the Three Broomsticks. It would have made much

more sense to deliver the parcel outside Hogwarts, what with Filch

searching everyone who goes in and out. I wonder why Malfoy told her

to take it into the castle?"

"Harry, Malfoy wasn't in Hogsmeade!" said Hermione, actually

stamping her foot in frustration.

"Point to Hermione," scored Alice.

"He must have used an accomplice, then," said Harry. "Crabbe or

Goyle — or, come to think of it, another Death Eater, he'll have loads

better cronies than Crabbe and Goyle now he's joined up —"

"And point back to Harry," continued Alice, "I am guessing that these types

of arguments are going to become quite a common occurrence this book."

"Unfortunately," mentioned Hermione, "however hopefully that means you

won't comment every single time or jump down my throat."

Ron and Hermione exchanged looks that plainly said There's no point

arguing with him.

"There isn't though," said Hermione, "that boy was too stubborn for his own

good."

"Sounds like both his parents," commented Remus, "I don't think he could

avoid the trait if he tried."

"Dilligrout," said Hermione firmly as they reached the Fat Lady.

The portrait swung open to admit them to the common room. It was

quite full and smelled of damp clothing; many people seemed to have

returned from Hogsmeade early because of the bad weather. There was

no buzz of fear or speculation, however: Clearly, the news of Katie's

fate had not yet spread.

"It wasn't a very slick attack, really, when you stop and think about it,"

said Ron, casually turfing a first year out of one of the good armchairs

by the fire so that he could sit down. "The curse didn't even make it

into the castle. Not what you'd call foolproof."

"No kidding," said James, "whoever did it isn't exactly a thinker, there are

way too many loopholes, our pranks are more well thought out than that,

whoever did it clearly doesn't have the temperament for planning and

execution, he would never be able to become a marauder."

"You're right," said Hermione, prodding Ron out of the chair with her

foot and offering it to the first year again. "It wasn't very well thought-

out at all."

"But since when has Malfoy been one of the world's great thinkers?"

asked Harry.

Neither Ron nor Hermione answered him.

"That is the end of the chapter, it seemed I got more excitement than I

wished for," said Severus dryly.

"Is Katie going to be okay?" asked Lily.

"She is fine eventually," said Hermione, "she spent a bit of time in St

Mungos and then she came back to school."

"Poor girl," said Alice, "perhaps we should hope for an inanely boring

chapter about lace patterns or the like next time, as I don't think we really

want the action that is looming on the horizon."

"Perhaps if I may be given the book, I can try and oblige," said Albus,

"though may I warn you, lace patterns can be truly interesting and I have

found many materials to be quite adventurous, if I may say so myself."

The room took in their headmaster resplendent in his purple and gold robes,

indeed no one could call the eccentric Professor's choice in materials

boring.

AN: Thanks for reading, please review! Cheers!

13. Chapter 13

The Secret Riddle

AN: Sorry for wait, however my keyboard is screwed which makes writin

rather painful and difficult. No matter, a new chapter is here for your

enjoyment. Thanks to my awesome reviewers, much appreciated. As usual I

own nothin... pity. Cheers!

"It seems that we will be returning to Harry's lessons in the upcoming

chapter," observed Albus Dumbledore, "this chapter is entitled The Secret

Riddle."

"Intriguing."

Albus privately agreed, he wondered what memory his future self would be

showing Harry that particular lesson, and if his present self was aware of

the contents.

Katie was removed to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and

Injuries the following day, by which time the news that she had been

cursed had spread all over the school, though the details were confused

and nobody other than Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Leanne seemed to

know that Katie herself had not been the intended target.

"Oh, and Malfoy knows, of course," said Harry to Ron and Hermione,

who continued their new policy of feigning deafness whenever Harry

mentioned his Malfoy-Is-a-Death-Eater theory.

"He has a point though," said Sirius, "even if he didn't orchestrate the whole

thing, which is still likely considering it has the markings of a thoughtless

teenager under-pressure, it was horribly thought out in other words. The

attack was no school yard prank, and the content of the necklace points to

death eater involvement, which means that if Draco is a death eater, which I

am sure he is, he would know. Also the whole slytherin pure-blood family

grapevine works pretty quickly so if he isn't Cissa would probably know

thanks to Bella, and Cissa would definitely tell her son about what was

going on at Hogwarts, even if just to avoid having him placed in danger."

Harry had wondered whether Dumbledore would return from

wherever he had been in time for Monday night's lesson, but having

had no word to the contrary, he presented himself outside

Dumbledore's office at eight o'clock, knocked, and was told to enter.

There sat Dumbledore looking unusually tired; his hand was as black

and burned as ever, but he smiled when he gestured to Harry to sit

down. The Pensieve was sitting on the desk again, casting silvery specks

of light over the ceiling.

"You have had a busy time while I have been away," Dumbledore said.

"I believe you witnessed Katie's accident."

"Yes, sir. How is she?"

"Still very unwell, although she was relatively lucky. She appears to

have brushed the necklace with the smallest possible amount of skin;

there was a tiny hole in her glove. Had she put it on, had she even held

it in her ungloved hand, she would have died, perhaps instantly.

"Some necklace," commented Lily, then she turned to James, "never buy

me opals."

"Righto and I will try to avoid anything which is cursed as well."

"Probably for the best," agreed Lily.

Luckily Professor Snape was able to do enough to prevent a rapid

spread of the curse —"

"Why him?" asked Harry quickly. "Why not Madam Pomfrey?"

"Impertinent," said a soft voice from one of the portraits on the wall,

and Phineas Nigellus Black, Sirius's great-great-grandfather, raised his

head from his arms where he had appeared to be sleeping. "I would not

have permitted a student to question the way Hogwarts operated in my

day."

"If it isn't niggling Nigellus," said Sirius, "come to think of it, it has been

too long since I have paid him a visit, perhaps I will have to be sent to the

headmasters office soon."

"I can help in that endeavour if you wish, I have no problems with trying to

get you in trouble," said Regulus cheekily.

"Perhaps you should join me then, the news we were working together on a

nefarious plot would send Mother into a fit, because Nigellus being the

snarky idiot he is, would tell her even if just to get a reaction out of her,"

replied Sirius.

"And Dad would probably just start laughing," added Regulus, "well at least

once Mother is out of ear-shot."

"Yes, thank you, Phineas," said Dumbledore quellingly. "Professor

Snape knows much more about the Dark Arts than Madam Pomfrey,

Harry. Anyway, the St. Mungo's staff are sending me hourly reports,

and I am hopeful that Katie will make a full recovery in time."

"Where were you this weekend, sir?" Harry asked, disregarding a

strong feeling that he might be pushing his luck, a feeling apparently

shared by Phineas Nigellus, who hissed softly.

"I would rather not say just now," said Dumbledore. "However, I shall

tell you in due course."

"You will?" said Harry, startled.

"Yes, I expect so," said Dumbledore, withdrawing a fresh bottle of

silver memories from inside his robes and uncorking it with a prod of

his wand.

"Sir," said Harry tentatively, "I met Mundungus in Hogsmeade."

"Ah yes, I am already aware that Mundungus has been treating your

inheritance with light-fingered contempt," said Dumbledore, frowning

a little. "He has gone to ground since you accosted him outside the

Three Broomsticks; I rather think he dreads facing me. However, rest

assured that he will not be making away with any more of Sirius's old

possessions."

"That mangy old half-blood has been stealing Black heirlooms?" said

Phineas Nigellus, incensed; and he stalked out of his frame,

undoubtedly to visit his portrait in number twelve, Grimmauld Place.

"Ah well," said Sirius, "that is him neutralised for the rest of the evening."

"Professor," said Harry, after a short pause, "did Professor

McGonagall tell you what I told her after Katie got hurt? About Draco

Malfoy?"

"She told me of your suspicions, yes," said Dumbledore.

"And do you —?"

"I shall take all appropriate measures to investigate anyone who might

have had a hand in Katie's accident," said Dumbledore. "But what

concerns me now, Harry, is our lesson."

Harry felt slightly resentful at this: If their lessons were so very

important, why had there been such a long gap between the first and

second?

"Good question," said Minerva, "what have you been doing Albus and why

are you delaying the sharing of your knowledge."

"I have no idea," lied Albus serenely, he did in fact have several ideas: it

would let any implications sink in if Harry was left to dwell on each, the

other is that he seemed to be timing them so that the right amount of

knowledge would be imparted before what Albus presumed to be his death.

However, he said no more about Draco Malfoy, but watched as

Dumbledore poured the fresh memories into the Pensieve and began

swirling the stone basin once more between his long-fingered hands.

"You will remember, I am sure, that we left the tale of Lord

Voldemort's beginnings at the point where the handsome Muggle, Tom

Riddle, had abandoned his witch wife, Merope, and returned to his

family home in Little Hangleton. Merope was left alone in London,

expecting the baby who would one day become Lord Voldemort."

"How do you know she was in London, sir?"

"Because of the evidence of one Caractacus Burke," said Dumbledore,

"who, by an odd coincidence, helped found the very shop whence came

the necklace we have just been discussing."

He swilled the contents of the Pensieve as Harry had seen him swill

them before, much as a gold prospector sifts for gold. Up out of the

swirling, silvery mass rose a little old man revolving slowly in the

Pensieve, silver as a ghost but much more solid, with a thatch of hair

that completely covered his eyes.

"Yes, we acquired it in curious circumstances. It was brought in by a

young witch just before Christmas, oh, many years ago now. She said

she needed the gold badly, well, that much was obvious. Covered in

rags and pretty far along… Going to have a baby, see. She said the

locket had been Slytherin's. Well, we hear that sort of story all the time,

'Oh, this was Merlin's, this was, his favourite teapot,' but when I

looked at it, it had his mark all right, and a few simple spells were

enough to tell me the truth. Of course, that made it near enough

priceless. She didn't seem to have any idea how much it was worth.

Happy to get ten Galleons for it. Best bargain we ever made!"

"Ten galleons!" asked Lily outraged, "that is appalling, how could he do

that to the poor girl."

"That is business Lily," said Severus, "most people and businesses thrive on

exploiting those in lessor circumstances, think about the sweat shop

factories and companies operating out of third world countries, they are

exploiting people in much the same manner. It seems that there is no room

for morals in good business."

Dumbledore gave the Pensieve an extra-vigorous shake and Caractacus

Burke descended back into the swirling mass of memory from whence

he had come.

"He only gave her ten Galleons?" said Harry indignantly.

"Caractacus Burke was not famed for his generosity," said

Dumbledore. "So we know that, near the end of her pregnancy, Merope

was alone in London and in desperate need of gold, desperate enough

to sell her one and only valuable possession, the locket that was one of

Marvolo's treasured family heirlooms."

"But she could do magic!" said Harry impatiently. "She could have got

food and everything for herself by magic, couldn't she?"

"Technically she wouldn't be able to conjure food," said James, "after all

Gamps laws of elemental transfiguration prevent that, but she could still use

magic to summon food, create cleaner and nicer clothing and better living

conditions."

"Possibly," said Frank, "but remember she never had much magical powers

and hasn't seemed to gone to Hogwarts so her magic wouldn't be very

advanced or at least not very refined, which could create difficulties in

doing such complex magic as conjuring things and what not."

"Ah," said Dumbledore, "perhaps she could. But it is my belief — I am

guessing again, but I am sure I am right — that when her husband

abandoned her, Merope stopped using magic. I do not think that she

wanted to be a witch any longer. Of course, it is also possible that her

unrequited love and the attendant despair sapped her of her powers;

that can happen. In any case, as you are about to see, Merope refused

to raise her wand even to save her own life."

"Or for the life of her son it seems either," commented Minerva, "who

knows how much would be different if Tom Riddle had a family of mother

figure or source of love and affection."

"She wouldn't even stay alive for her son?"

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Could you possibly be feeling sorry

for Lord Voldemort?"

"I think he empathises with the struggles of being an orphan," said

Hermione, "that connection has always haunted him, especially the fact that

much of his life is similar to that of Tom Riddle's."

"No," said Harry quickly, "but she had a choice, didn't she, not like my

mother —"

"Your mother had a choice too," said Dumbledore gently. "Yes, Merope

Riddle chose death in spite of a son who needed her, but do not judge

her too harshly, Harry. She was greatly weakened by long suffering and

she never had your mother's courage. And now, if you will stand…"

"Where are we going?" Harry asked, as Dumbledore joined him at the

front of the desk.

"This time," said Dumbledore, "we are going to enter my memory. I

think you will find it both rich in detail and satisfyingly accurate. After

you, Harry…"

Harry bent over the Pensieve; his face broke the cool surface of the

memory and then he was falling through darkness again… Seconds

later, his feet hit firm ground; he opened his eyes and found that he and

Dumbledore were standing in a bustling, old-fashioned London street.

Dumbledore had a feeling about which memory was about to be shared, a

very enlightening one if he dared to say so himself.

"There I am," said Dumbledore brightly, pointing ahead of them to a

tall figure crossing the road in front of a horse-drawn milk cart.

This younger Albus Dumbledore's long hair and beard were auburn.

Having reached their side of the street, he strode off along the

pavement, drawing many curious glances due to the flamboyantly cut

suit of plum velvet that he was wearing.

"Nice suit, sir," said Harry, before he could stop himself, but

Dumbledore merely chuckled as they followed his younger self a short

distance, finally passing through a set of iron gates into a bare

courtyard that fronted a rather grim, square building surrounded by

high railings. He mounted the few steps leading to the front door and

knocked once. After a moment or two, the door was opened by a

scruffy girl wearing an apron.

"Good afternoon. I have an appointment with a Mrs. Cole, who, I

believe, is the matron here?"

"Oh," said the bewildered-looking girl, taking in Dumbledore's

eccentric appearance. "Um… just a mo'… MRS. COLE!" she bellowed

over her shoulder.

Harry heard a distant voice shouting something in response. The girl

turned back to Dumbledore. "Come in, she's on 'er way."

Dumbledore stepped into a hallway tiled in black and white; the whole

place was shabby but spotlessly clean. Harry and the older Dumbledore

followed. Before the front door had closed behind them, a skinny,

harassed-looking woman came scurrying toward them. She had a

sharp-featured face that appeared more anxious than unkind, and she

was talking over her shoulder to another aproned helper as she walked

toward Dumbledore.

"… and take the iodine upstairs to Martha, Billy Stubbs has been

picking his scabs and Eric Whalley's oozing all over his sheets —

chicken pox on top of everything else," she said to nobody in particular,

and then her eyes fell upon Dumbledore and she stopped dead in her

tracks, looking as astonished as if a giraffe had just crossed her

threshold.

"Good afternoon," said Dumbledore, holding out his hand. Mrs. Cole

simply gaped.

"Your choice in clothing can have that effect on people," commented

Minerva wryly.

"My name is Albus Dumbledore. I sent you a letter requesting an

appointment and you very kindly invited me here today."

Mrs. Cole blinked. Apparently deciding that Dumbledore was not a

hallucination, she said feebly, "Oh yes. Well — well then — you'd

better come into my room. Yes."

She led Dumbledore into a small room that seemed part sitting room,

part office. It was as shabby as the hallway and the furniture was old

and mismatched. She invited Dumbledore to sit on a rickety chair and

seated herself behind a cluttered desk, eyeing him nervously.

"I am here, as I told you in my letter, to discuss Tom Riddle and

arrangements for his future," said Dumbledore.

"Are you family?" asked Mrs. Cole.

"No, I am a teacher," said Dumbledore. "I have come to offer Tom a

place at my school."

"What school's this, then?"

"It is called Hogwarts," said Dumbledore.

"And how come you're interested in Tom?"

"We believe he has qualities we are looking for."

"You mean he's won a scholarship? How can he have done? He's never

been entered for one."

"Well, his name has been down for our school since birth —"

"Who registered him? His parents?"

"She seems rather switched on," commented Lily, "though I suppose if you

have to look after an orphanage of children for a living it isn't really all that

surprising."

There was no doubt that Mrs. Cole was an inconveniently sharp

woman. Apparently Dumbledore thought so too, for Harry now saw

him slip his wand out of the pocket of his velvet suit, at the same time

picking up a piece of perfectly blank paper from Mrs. Cole's desktop.

"Here," said Dumbledore, waving his wand once as he passed her the

piece of paper, "I think this will make everything clear."

"Albus!" scolded Minerva.

"Yes, Minerva?" asked Albus serenely turning back to the book. This

interaction caused no small amount of amusement for the marauders, it

seemed that even the headmaster was not immune from the Transfiguration

professor's scolding.

Mrs. Cole's eyes slid out of focus and back again as she gazed intently

at the blank paper for a moment.

"That seems perfectly in order," she said placidly, handing it back.

Then her eyes fell upon a bottle of gin and two glasses that had

certainly not been present a few seconds before.

Dumbledore raised an amused eyebrow, it seems young Harry was rather

observant, however since he hadn't wanted to do anymore magic on the

caretaker, he had to use the universal truth serum to gain some answers.

"Er — may I offer you a glass of gin?" she said in an extra-refined

voice.

"Thank you very much," said Dumbledore, beaming.

It soon became clear that Mrs. Cole was no novice when it came to gin

drinking. Pouring both of them a generous measure, she drained her

own glass in one gulp.

"Probably another side-effect of having to put up with kids for a living,"

commented Sirius, "if they are anything like me and Reggie growing up,

there is no wonder she is rather attached to her bottle of gin."

"That is unfair Sirius, most of those children have more things on their

mind than practical jokes," rebuked Hermione, "do you know how close

Harry might have come to growing up in an orphanage? He told me once

that his Uncle regularly considered putting him in one, how close could he

have become to growing up like Tom Riddle?"

"I see your point Hermione," said Sirius gravely, "and it is no laughing

matter. However I think you missed mine, working with children no matter

how well behaved they are is a demanding job and it would probably

require some form of stress relief for the staff. On a lighter note though, do

you seriously think growing up with my mother would not have been a

traumatic experience?"

Smacking her lips frankly, she smiled at Dumbledore for the first time,

and he didn't hesitate to press his advantage.

"I was wondering whether you could tell me anything of Tom Riddle's

history? I think he was born here in the orphanage?"

"That's right," said Mrs. Cole, helping herself to more gin. "I

remember it clear as anything, because I'd just started here myself.

New Year's Eve and bitter cold, snowing, you know. Nasty night. And

this girl, not much older than I was myself at the time, came staggering

up the front steps. Well, she wasn't the first. We took her in, and she

had the baby within the hour. And she was dead in another hour."

"Poor girl," cooed Lily sympathetically.

Mrs. Cole nodded impressively and took another generous gulp of gin.

"Did she say anything before she died?" asked Dumbledore. "Anything

about the boy's father, for instance?"

"Now, as it happens, she did," said Mrs. Cole, who seemed to be rather

enjoying herself now, with the gin in her hand and an eager audience

for her story.

"I remember she said to me, 'I hope he looks like his papa,' and I won't

lie, she was right to hope it, because she was no beauty — and then she

told me he was to be named Tom, for his father, and Marvolo, for her

father — yes, I know, funny name, isn't it? We wondered whether she

came from a circus — and she said the boy's surname was to be Riddle.

And she died soon after that without another word. Well, we named

him just as she'd said, it seemed so important to the poor girl, but no

Tom nor Marvolo nor any kind of Riddle ever came looking for him,

nor any family at all, so he stayed in the orphanage and he's been here

ever since."

"Dark Lord or not, that is no place for a boy to grow up," said Minerva,

"orphanages have changed significantly since that era. Bear in mind that is

was during the 1930's, when the world, wizard and muggle alike was

suffering from the Great Depression, combined with the results of the first

great muggle war and the Spanish flu pandemic... well there would be more

orphans that ever before, whether by death or both parents, or parents not

being able to afford to keep their children. They were also living in a new

level of poverty as the government could not afford the upkeep of

orphanages so they were often neglected. Indeed no child should have to

grow up in those conditions."

"But he is the Dark Lord, surely if no one else does, he deserves to have

experienced such suffering considering how much he causes himself. How

many orphans has he been responsible for?" asked James.

"But how would his experience have shaped who he became?" asked Frank

philosophically, "was he born evil? It is the never ending debate of nature or

nurture."

Mrs. Cole helped herself, almost absentmindedly, to another healthy

measure of gin. Two pink spots had appeared high on her cheekbones.

Then she said, "He's a funny boy."

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "I thought he might be."

"He was a funny baby too. He hardly ever cried, you know. And then,

when he got a little older, he was… odd."

"Odd in what way?" asked Dumbledore gently.

"Well, he —"

But Mrs. Cole pulled up short, and there was nothing blurry or vague

about the inquisitorial glance she shot Dumbledore over her gin glass.

"He's definitely got a place at your school, you say?"

"Definitely," said Dumbledore.

"And nothing I say can change that?"

"Nothing," said Dumbledore.

"You'll be taking him away, whatever?"

"Whatever," repeated Dumbledore gravely.

"That much trouble then?" asked Regulus.

She squinted at him as though deciding whether or not to trust him.

Apparently she decided she could, because she said in a sudden rush,

"He scares the other children."

"You mean he is a bully?" asked Dumbledore.

"I think he must be," said Mrs. Cole, frowning slightly, "but it's very

hard to catch him at it. There have been incidents… Nasty things…"

Dumbledore did not press her, though Harry could tell that he was

interested. She took yet another gulp of gin and her rosy cheeks grew

rosier still.

"Billy Stubbs's rabbit… well, Tom said he didn't do it and I don't see

how he could have done, but even so, it didn't hang itself from the

rafters, did it?"

"Eww," said Alice, "that is sick."

"I shouldn't think so, no," said Dumbledore quietly.

"But I'm jiggered if I know how he got up there to do it. All I know is

he and Billy had argued the day before. And then"— Mrs. Cole took

another swig of gin, slopping a little over her chin this time — "on the

summer outing — we take them out, you know, once a year, to the

countryside or to the seaside — well, Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop

were never quite right afterwards, and all we ever got out of them was

that they'd gone into a cave with Tom Riddle. He swore they'd just

gone exploring, but something happened in there, I'm sure of it. And,

well, there have been a lot of things, funny things…"

Hermione couldn't suppress a shiver at the mention of that blasted cave. She

wished it never existed.

She looked around at Dumbledore again, and though her cheeks were

flushed, her gaze was steady. "I don't think many people will be sorry

to see the back of him."

"You understand, I'm sure, that we will not be keeping him

permanently?" said Dumbledore. "He will have to return here, at the

very least, every summer."

"Oh, well, that's better than a whack on the nose with a rusty poker,"

said Mrs. Cole with a slight hiccup. She got to her feet, and Harry was

impressed to see that she was quite steady, even though two-thirds of

the gin was now gone. "I suppose you'd like to see him?"

"Very much," said Dumbledore, rising too.

She led him out of her office and up the stone stairs, calling out

instructions and admonitions to helpers and children as she passed.

The orphans, Harry saw, were all wearing the same kind of grayish

tunic. They looked reasonably well-cared for, but there was no denying

that this was a grim place in which to grow up.

"Here we are," said Mrs. Cole, as they turned off the second landing

and stopped outside the first door in a long corridor. She knocked twice

and entered.

"Tom? You've got a visitor. This is Mr. Dumberton — sorry,

Dunderbore. He's come to tell you — well, I'll let him do it."

"Dumberton," said James, "I will have to remember that one."

Harry and the two Dumbledores entered the room, and Mrs. Cole

closed the door on them. It was a small bare room with nothing in it

except an old wardrobe and an iron bedstead. A boy was sitting on top

of the gray blankets, his legs stretched out in front of him, holding a

book. There was no trace of the Gaunts in Tom Riddle's face. Merope

had got her dying wish: He was his handsome father in miniature, tall

for eleven years old, dark-haired, and pale. His eyes narrowed slightly

as he took in Dumbledore's eccentric appearance. There was a

moment's silence.

"How do you do, Tom?" said Dumbledore, walking forward and

holding out his hand.

The boy hesitated, then took it, and they shook hands. Dumbledore

drew up the hard wooden chair beside Riddle, so that the pair of them

looked rather like a hospital patient and visitor.

"I am Professor Dumbledore."

"'Professor'?" repeated Riddle. He looked wary. "Is that like 'doctor'?

What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?"

He was pointing at the door through which Mrs. Cole had just left.

"No, no," said Dumbledore, smiling.

"I don't believe you," said Riddle. "She wants me looked at, doesn't

she? Tell the truth!"

He spoke the last three words with a ringing force that was almost

shocking. It was a command, and it sounded as though he had given it

many times before.

"Authoritative brat isn't he," commented James.

"Seems megalomania started young," added Remus.

"Perhaps in an orphanage in that time it was the only way to be heard"

pointed out Lily.

"Are you determined to think well of everyone, Evans, because it is a

useless endeavour, there is no way to make anything the Dark Lord does rit.

You can't justify the atrocities that he has committed," said Regulus firmly.

"I'm not trying to, " said Lily, "However I refuse to believe that someone is

born evil, if they were what could stop one of our children from being a

dark lord? We need to believe that if we love our children enough we will

be able to keep them on the correct route and prevent another Dark Lord

from ever existing."

"But it not only nurture that contributes, because by your logic, your son

should be a dark lord if a crap childhood is the defining factor, so there

must be other influences," pointed out Frank.

"As intriguing as I find it, philosophy is getting us nowhere, can we please

read again," commented James impatiently.

His eyes had widened and he was glaring at Dumbledore, who made no

response except to continue smiling pleasantly. After a few seconds

Riddle stopped glaring, though he looked, if anything, warier still.

"Who are you?"

"I have told you. My name is Professor Dumbledore and I work at a

school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you a place at my school

— your new school, if you would like to come."

Riddle's reaction to this was most surprising. He leapt from the bed

and backed away from Dumbledore, looking furious.

"You can't kid me! The asylum, that's where you're from, isn't it?

'Professor,' yes, of course — well, I'm not going, see? That old cat's the

one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy

Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they'll tell you!"

"Apparently Riddle is scared," observed Sirius, "From what I've read,

asylums are pretty bad places to be in, so probably justified."

"You read?" asked Severus sceptically, tat earned a pointed look from Sirius

and Lily.

Albus wasn't sure if fear was truly what was governing Tom, in reflection

perhaps the fact that he himself (Albus) was an unknown phenomenon, thus

one that couldn't be controlled instantly.

"I am not from the asylum," said Dumbledore patiently. "I am a

teacher and, if you will sit down calmly, I shall tell you about Hogwarts.

Of course, if you would rather not come to the school, nobody will force

you —"

"I'd like to see them try," sneered Riddle.

"Apparently self-delusion about is supposed invincibility started early on

too," observed Alice wryly.

"Hogwarts," Dumbledore went on, as though he had not heard Riddle's

last words, "is a school for people with special abilities —"

"I'm not mad!"

"I know that you are not mad. Hogwarts is not a school for mad people.

It is a school of magic."

There was silence. Riddle had frozen, his face expressionless, but his

eyes were flickering back and forth between each of Dumbledore's, as

though trying to catch one of them lying.

"Magic?" he repeated in a whisper.

"That's right," said Dumbledore.

"It's… it's magic, what I can do?"

"That was anticlimactic," commented Minerva, "most tat I have informed

usually scream or at least have a moment of disbelief easy acceptance is

rather startling."

"I wonder what Riddle is able to do," asked James curiously.

Albus smiled before reading, knowing what was coming up was a nice

feeling, unfortunately not a frequent one at the moment, quite the contrary

Albus never felt so challenged or out of control until Hermione arrived

alongside her books.

"What is it that you can do?"

"All sorts," breathed Riddle. A flush of excitement was rising up his

neck into his hollow cheeks; he looked fevered. "I can make filings

move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them

to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people

who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to."

"Pleasant and not at all sadistic," remarked Alice dryly.

His legs were trembling. He stumbled forward and sat down on the bed

again, staring at his hands, his head bowed as though in prayer.

"I knew I was different," he whispered to his own quivering fingers. "I

knew I was special. Always, I knew there was something."

"Well, you were quite right," said Dumbledore, who was no longer

smiling, but watching Riddle intently. "You are a wizard."

Riddle lifted his head. His face was transfigured: There was a wild

happiness upon it, yet for some reason it did not make him better

looking; on the contrary, his finely carved features seemed somehow

rougher, his expression almost bestial.

"Happy Dark Lord is not pretty, actually most scary face to be seen," said

Regulus.

Hermione couldn't help but agree.

"Are you a wizard too?"

"Yes, I am."

"Prove it," said Riddle at once, in the same commanding tone he had

used when he had said, "Tell the truth."

"Perhaps a certain tone of voice contains some form of magical control,"

mused Minerva.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "If, as I take it, you are accepting

your place at Hogwarts —"

"Of course I am!"

"Then you will address me as 'Professor' or 'sir.'"

"Burn!"

Riddle's expression hardened for the most fleeting moment before he

said, in an unrecognizably polite voice, "I'm sorry, sir. I meant —

please, Professor, could you show me —?"

Harry was sure that Dumbledore was going to refuse, that he would tell

Riddle there would be plenty of time for practical demonstrations at

Hogwarts, that they were currently in a building full of Muggles and

must therefore be cautious.

"It isn't an uncommon request, most staff expect to be asked and are

actually surprised if students or their parents don't need proof," said

Minerva.

To his great surprise, however, Dumbledore drew his wand from an

inside pocket of his suit jacket, pointed it at the shabby wardrobe in the

corner, and gave the wand a casual flick. The wardrobe burst into

flames.

"Why did you choose to do that?" asked James.

"Character research," said Albus ambiguously.

Riddle jumped to his feet; Harry could hardly blame him for howling

in shock and rage; all his worldly possessions must be in there. But

even as Riddle rounded on Dumbledore, the flames vanished, leaving

the wardrobe completely undamaged. Riddle stared from the wardrobe

to Dumbledore; then, his expression greedy, he pointed at the wand.

"Where can I get one of them?"

"All in good time," said Dumbledore. "I think there is something trying

to get out of your wardrobe."

And sure enough, a faint rattling could be heard from inside it. For the

first time, Riddle looked frightened.

"Open the door," said Dumbledore.

Riddle hesitated, then crossed the room and threw open the wardrobe

door. On the topmost shelf, above a rail of threadbare clothes, a small

cardboard box was shaking and rattling as though there were several

frantic mice trapped inside it.

"Take it out," said Dumbledore.

Riddle took down the quaking box. He looked unnerved.

"I'm guessing tat said box isn't meant to quake, rattle etc," remarked Remus

dryly.

"Is there anything in that box that you ought not to have?" asked

Dumbledore.

Riddle threw Dumbledore a long, clear, calculating look. "Yes, I

suppose so, sir," he said finally, in an expressionless voice.

"Open it," said Dumbledore.

Riddle took off the lid and tipped the contents onto his bed without

looking at them. Harry, who had expected something much more

exciting, saw a mess of small, everyday objects: a yo-yo, a silver

thimble, and a tarnished mouth organ among them. Once free of the

box, they stopped quivering and lay quite still upon the thin blankets.

"You will return them to their owners with your apologies," said

Dumbledore calmly, putting his wand back into his jacket. "I shall

know whether it has been done. And be warned: Thieving is not

tolerated at Hogwarts."

"No," said Sirius sarcastically, "but setting a basilisk on students is such a

brilliant alternative."

Riddle did not look remotely abashed; he was still staring coldly and

appraisingly at Dumbledore. At last he said in a colorless voice, "Yes,

sir."

"At Hogwarts," Dumbledore went on, "we teach you not only to use

magic, but to control it. You have — inadvertently, I am sure — been

using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our

school. You are not the first, nor will you be the last, to allow your

magic to run away with you. But you should know that Hogwarts can

expel students, and the Ministry of Magic — yes, there is a Ministry —

will punish lawbreakers still more severely. All new wizards must

accept that, in entering our world, they abide by our laws."

"Yes, sir," said Riddle again.

It was impossible to tell what he was thinking; his face remained quite

blank as he put the little cache of stolen objects back into the

cardboard box. When he had finished, he turned to Dumbledore and

said baldly, "I haven't got any money."

"That is easily remedied," said Dumbledore, drawing a leather money-

pouch from his pocket. "There is a fund at Hogwarts for those who

require assistance to buy books and robes. You might have to buy some

of your spellbooks and so on secondhand, but —"

"Where do you buy spellbooks?" interrupted Riddle, who had taken

the heavy money bag without thanking Dumbledore, and was now

examining a fat gold Galleon.

"In Diagon Alley," said Dumbledore. "I have your list of books and

school equipment with me. I can help you find everything —"

"You're coming with me?" asked Riddle, looking up.

"Certainly, if you —"

"I don't need you," said Riddle. "I'm used to doing things for myself, I

go round London on my own all the time. How do you get to this

Diagon Alley — sir?" he added, catching Dumbledore's eye.

Harry thought that Dumbledore would insist upon accompanying

Riddle, but once again he was surprised.

"Indeed, we cannot insist on accompanying students, it is not our place,"

said Minerva, "however even in the event they do not want our escort we

tend to watch anyway, benefit of magic is you can look out for someone

without being seen."

Dumbledore handed Riddle the envelope containing his list of

equipment, and after telling Riddle exactly how to get to the Leaky

Cauldron from the orphanage, he said, "You will be able to see it,

although Muggles around you — non-magical people, that is — will

not. Ask for Tom the barman — easy enough to remember, as he shares

your name —"

Riddle gave an irritable twitch, as though trying to displace an irksome

fly.

"You dislike the name 'Tom'?"

"There are a lot of Toms," muttered Riddle.

"Not surprising e doesn't like the name, as in an overcrowded orphanage

you would probably always be looking for a way to stand out and be

recognised as an individual, there would probably be several Toms at the

orphanage to compete with," commented Frank.

Then, as though he could not suppress the question, as though it burst

from him in spite of himself, he asked, "Was my father a wizard? He

was called Tom Riddle too, they've told me."

"I'm afraid I don't know," said Dumbledore, his voice gentle.

"My mother can't have been magic, or she wouldn't have died," said

Riddle, more to himself than Dumbledore.

"That is a very simplistic view of the world," said Regulus, "Not even with

the dark arts can one avoid death completely, even horcruxes can be

destroyed. But then again he's a child still, so you can't fault him for his

view of the world."

"It must've been him. So — when I've got all my stuff — when do I

come to this Hogwarts?"

"All the details are on the second piece of parchment in your envelope,"

said Dumbledore. "You will leave from King's Cross Station on the first

of September. There is a train ticket in there too."

Riddle nodded. Dumbledore got to his feet and held out his hand again.

Taking it, Riddle said, "I can speak to snakes. I found out when we've

been to the country on trips — they find me, they whisper to me. Is that

normal for a wizard?"

"Nope," said James, "no wonder he is into all the dark arts, parcelmouth and

all."

"Your son is a parcelmouth," reminded Lily sternly.

"Not by choice, only because of Mouldy," said James, his son was not dark

like Voldemort!

"You can't choose what you are born with Potter," reprimanded Severus, "If

you could, I have no doubt you would not have such horrific hair."

Harry could tell that he had withheld mention of this strangest power

until that moment, determined to impress.

"It is unusual," said Dumbledore, after a moment's hesitation, "but not

unheard of."

"I guess that makes him unique," said Remus.

His tone was casual but his eyes moved curiously over Riddle's face.

They stood for a moment, man and boy, staring at each other. Then the

handshake was broken; Dumbledore was at the door.

"Good-bye, Tom. I shall see you at Hogwarts."

"I think that will do," said the white-haired Dumbledore at Harry's

side, and seconds later, they were soaring weightlessly through

darkness once more, before landing squarely in the present-day office.

"That is one messed up kid," said Alice, "I found him to be rather freaky

mind you."

"Sit down," said Dumbledore, landing beside Harry.

Harry obeyed, his mind still full of what he had just seen.

"He believed it much quicker than I did — I mean, when you told him

he was a wizard," said Harry. "I didn't believe Hagrid at first, when he

told me."

"Yes, Riddle was perfectly ready to believe that he was — to use his

word — 'special,'" said Dumbledore.

Whereas Harry had the opposite drilled into him from a young age, mused

Hermione to herself.

"Did you know — then?" asked Harry.

"Did I know that I had just met the most dangerous Dark wizard of all

time?" said Dumbledore. "No, I had no idea that he was to grow up to

be what he is. However, I was certainly intrigued by him. I returned to

Hogwarts intending to keep an eye upon him, something I should have

done in any case, given that he was alone and friendless, but which,

already, I felt I ought to do for others' sake as much as his.

"His powers, as you heard, were surprisingly well-developed for such a

young wizard and — most interestingly and ominously of all — he had

already discovered that he had some measure of control over them, and

begun to use them consciously. And as you saw, they were not the

random experiments typical of young wizards: He was already using

magic against other people, to frighten, to punish, to control. The little

stories of the strangled rabbit and the young boy and girl he lured into

a cave were most suggestive… 'I can make them hurt if I want to… '"

"That was the point when Tom Riddle became kind of scary," said Lily with

a shiver.

"And he was a Parselmouth," interjected Harry.

"Yes, indeed; a rare ability, and one supposedly connected with the

Dark Arts, although as we know, there are Parselmouths among the

great and the good too. In fact, his ability to speak to serpents did not

make me nearly as uneasy as his obvious instincts for cruelty, secrecy,

and domination. Time is making fools of us again," said Dumbledore,

indicating the dark sky beyond the windows. "But before we part, I

want to draw your attention to certain features of the scene we have

just witnessed, for they have a great bearing on the matters we shall be

discussing in future meetings. Firstly, I hope you noticed Riddle's

reaction when I mentioned that another shared his first name, 'Tom'?"

Harry nodded.

"There he showed his contempt for anything that tied him to other

people, anything that made him ordinary. Even then, he wished to be

different, separate, notorious. He shed his name, as you know, within a

few short years of that conversation and created the mask of 'Lord

Voldemort' behind which he has been hidden for so long.

"I trust that you also noticed that Tom Riddle was already highly self-

sufficient, secretive, and, apparently, friendless? He did not want help

or companionship on his trip to Diagon Alley. He preferred to operate

alone. The adult Voldemort is the same. You will hear many of his

Death Eaters claiming that they are in his confidence, that they alone

are close to him, even understand him. They are deluded. Lord

Voldemort has never had a friend, nor do I believe that he has ever

wanted one.

"From what I have encountered, that is very true," confirmed Regulus.

"Poor Bella," sneered Sirius.

"And lastly — I hope you are not too sleepy to pay attention to this,

Harry — the young Tom Riddle liked to collect trophies. You saw the

box of stolen articles he had hidden in his room. These were taken from

victims of his bullying behaviour, souvenirs, if you will, of particularly

unpleasant bits of magic. Bear in mind this magpie-like tendency, for

this, particularly, will be important later.

"How?" wondered Lily.

"I think we might eventually be learning about the horcruxes," surmised

Frank, "after all with the prophecy Harry would have to know about the

challenges he will face, the horcruxes will certainly be tat and from what

Sirius and Regulus said you need objects to store your soul in."

"Stupid Ravenclaws," muttered Hermione, why did they need to be so

bloody smart.

"I think that was an oxymoron," teased Regulus.

"You're an ox and a moron," replied Hermione under her breath.

"And now, it really is time for bed."

Harry got to his feet. As he walked across the room, his eyes fell I upon

the little table on which Marvolo Gaunt's ring had rested last I time,

but the ring was no longer there.

"Yes, Harry?" said Dumbledore, for Harry had come to a halt.

"The ring's gone," said Harry, looking around. "But I thought I you

might have the mouth organ or something."

Dumbledore beamed at him, peering over the top of his half moon

spectacles.

"Very astute, Harry, but the mouth organ was only ever a mouth

organ."

"Does that mean the ring became something else too?" questioned James,

knowing the answer.

"I have a feeling it became a dark object starting wit H," supplied Remus.

And on that enigmatic note he waved to Harry, who understood himself

to be dismissed.

"I suspect the chapter ends on that enigmatic note as well?" queried

Minerva, to which Albus nodded, "why don't you give me the book so that

we can get through a couple more chapters before we turn in for the night."

AN: Thanks for readin, please review. Cheers!

14. Chapter 14

Felix Felicis

AN: Hi all, here is the next chapter. I would like to apologise for the

spelling errors in the last chapter, my keyboard was broken and several

characters weren't working, so I think spell check and tired editing ended up

missing a few of my errors, so sorry. Thank you to all who reviewed the last

chapter, I truly appreciate it. As per usual I own nothing which you can

recognise, it belongs to JK Rowling and all affiliated parties. I hope you

enjoy the next installment of the story. Happy reading! Cheers!

"Is everyone ready for the next chapter?" queried Minerva, once everyone

nodded their assent, she opened the book to the next page. "Felix Felicis is

the title, perhaps Mr Potter uses his potion."

Harry had Herbology first thing the following morning. He had been

unable to tell Ron and Hermione about his lesson with Dumbledore

over breakfast for fear of being over-heard, but he filled them in as

they walked across the vegetable patch toward the greenhouses. The

weekend's brutal wind had died out at last; the weird mist had

returned and it took them a little longer than usual to find the correct

greenhouse.

"Wow, scary thought, the boy You-Know-Who," said Ron quietly, as

they took their places around one of the gnarled Snargaluff stumps that

formed this terms project, and began pulling on their protective gloves.

"But I still don't get why Dumbledore's showing you all this. I mean,

it's really interesting and everything, but what's the point?"

"Know thy enemy probably," suggested James, "though I daresay there will

be a further point to the memories, which will probably make sense further

down the track."

"Dunno," said Harry, inserting a gum shield. "But he says it's all

important and it'll help me survive."

"I think it's fascinating," said Hermione earnestly. "It makes absolute

sense to know as much about Voldemort as possible. How else will you

find out his weaknesses?"

"Sounds like what Reggie was doing before I made my grand escape,"

commented Sirius, "he was starting to gather information about the bastard,

and what he has done, I swear your bedroom looked like a shrine to the

idiot with all the news clippings you stuck on there."

Hermione went wide eyed for a moment, that explained his bedroom in the

future, "did you use a permanent sticking charm on them or something,

because they were still there in the future."

"I didn't see the point," said Regulus, "just a regular charm, after all Mother

approved of my interest, though admittedly I think she believes that I like

the Dark Lord, so she would have no reason to try and take them down."

"Then why are they still there in the future?" asked Hermione.

"Perhaps Sirius never got around to cleaning it or decided to leave it there

for some nefarious reason of his own," shrugged Regulus.

"So how was Slughorn's latest party?" Harry asked her thickly

through the gum shield.

"Oh, it was quite fun, really," said Hermione, now putting on protective

goggles. "I mean, he drones on about famous exploits a bit, and he

absolutely fawns on McLaggen because he's so well connected, but he

gave us some really nice food and he introduced us to Gwenog Jones."

"Gwenog Jones?" said Ron, his eyes widening under his own goggles.

"The Gwenog Jones? Captain of the Holyhead Harpies?"

"I thought he supported the Cannons," commented James.

"I think he supports the game of quidditch first and foremost, besides most

of the males there, fans of the Harpies or not, were happy to keep her

company, for reasons I am sure you can imagine," commented Hermione

dryly.

"That's right," said Hermione. "Personally, I thought she was a bit full

of herself, but —"

"Quite enough chat over here!" said Professor Sprout briskly, bustling

over and looking stern. "You're lagging behind, everybody else has

started, and Neville's already got his first pod!"

"My son is better than yours!" teased Alice, poking her tongue out at Lily.

"That is only because he does not require a wand which would only result

in a display living up to his maternal heritage," drawled Severus, knowing

that when Alice was distracted she could have interesting results when

performing charms, either mispronouncing it and altering the charms

slightly, or 'accidentally' missing her targets and hit dubiously innocent

civilians, or else a combination of the two. He had a suspicion that she was

the inspiration for Flitwick's fabled buffalo story.

They looked around; sure enough, there sat Neville with a bloody lip

and several nasty scratches along the side of his face, but clutching an

unpleasantly pulsating green object about the size of a grapefruit.

"Okay, Professor, we're starting now!" said Ron, adding quietly, when

she had turned away again, "should've used Muffliato, Harry."

"No, we shouldn't!" said Hermione at once, looking, as she always did,

intensely cross at the thought of the Half-Blood Prince and his spells.

"Well, come on… we'd better get going…"

Lily and Severus both smirked slightly.

"Haven't you ever tried to make up spells?"asked Lily curiously, "it is rather

fun, I have done a couple, and I wouldn't be surprised if some of the boys

have as well."

Hermione flushed slightly, while she was excellent at following instructions

and applying theories and charms in all manners of settings, she was not

gifted with the ability to create spells or alter them, without instructions to

rely on she was quite useless... something proven by her many cooking

misadventures during the horcrux hunt... if only she thought to pack some

recipe books perhaps the quality of her cooking might have improved.

She gave the other two an apprehensive look; they all took deep breaths

and then dived at the gnarled stump between them.

It sprang to life at once; long, prickly, bramblelike vines flew out of the

top and whipped through the air. One tangled itself in Hermione's hair,

and Ron beat it back with a pair of secateurs; Harry succeeded in

trapping a couple of vines and knotting them together; a hole opened in

the middle of all the tentaclelike branches; Hermione plunged her arm

bravely into this hole, which closed like a trap around her elbow;

Harry and Ron tugged and wrenched at the vines, forcing the hole to

open again, and Hermione snatched her arm free, clutching in her

fingers a pod just like Neville's. At once, the prickly vines shot back

inside, and the gnarled stump sat there looking like an innocently dead

lump of wood.

"Not a bad display of team work," commented Albus, "I have seen much

more disastrous results in my time teaching."

"I remember those plants," said James nostalgically, "we got in trouble for

using a modified freezing charm on them, apparently there is a way to cheat

in herbology, mind you I would rather have the detention than do it without

magic."

Minerva snorted, she remembered the herbology professor talking about the

incident, he was actually rather impressed with the charm, the only reason

the quartet was given detention was because they had recently pulled a

prank in the greenhouses which involved several fire-breathing ducks and a

panda bear, unfortunately the marauder's involvement could not be proven,

hence they couldn't be punished which meant an alternate infraction had to

be exploited instead. It was a rather popular tactic among the staff when it

came to dealing with Potter, Black, Lupin and Pettigrew.

"You know, I don't think I'll be having any of these in my garden when

I've got my own place," said Ron, pushing his goggles up onto his

forehead and wiping sweat from his face.

"Pass me a bowl," said Hermione, holding the pulsating pod at arm's

length; Harry handed one over and she dropped the pod into it with a

look of disgust on her face.

"Don't be squeamish, squeeze it out, they're best when they're fresh!"

called Professor Sprout.

"Anyway," said Hermione, continuing their interrupted conversation

as though a lump of wood had not just attacked them, "Slughorn's

going to have a Christmas party, Harry, and there's no way you'll be

able to wriggle out of this one because he actually asked me to check

your free evenings, so he could be sure to have it on a night you can

come."

"Perhaps a convenient trip to the hospital wing could be arranged, nothing

like a good dose of food poisoning, accidental or otherwise, to get you out

of unwanted obligations," said Sirius with a grin.

Harry groaned. Meanwhile, Ron, who was attempting to burst the pod

in the bowl by putting both hands on it, standing up, and squashing it

as hard as he could, said angrily, "And this is another party just for

Slughorn's favorites, is it?"

"Just for the Slug Club, yes," said Hermione.

"I hate that name," said Lily, "surely he could have come up with something

better."

The pod flew out from under Ron's fingers and hit the green house

glass, rebounding onto the back of Professor Sprout's head and

knocking off her old, patched hat. Harry went to retrieve the pod;

when he got back, Hermione was saying, "Look, I didn't make up the

name 'Slug Club' —"

"'Slug Club,'" repeated Ron with a sneer worthy of Malfoy.

"I'm not too sure," said Remus dryly, "but I think he might be jealous."

"It's pathetic. Well, I hope you enjoy your party. Why don't you try

hooking up with McLaggen, then Slughorn can make you King and

Queen Slug —"

Hermione flushed slightly, because she did just that, much to her disgust,

trying to get revenge on Ron was not worth having to put up with that

imbecile.

"We're allowed to bring guests," said Hermione, who for some reason

had turned a bright, boiling scarlet, "and I was going to ask you to

come, but if you think it's that stupid then I won't bother!"

Harry suddenly wished the pod had flown a little farther, so that he

need not have been sitting here with the pair of them. Unnoticed by

either, he seized the bowl that contained the pod and began to try and

open it by the noisiest and most energetic means he could think of;

unfortunately, he could still hear every word of their conversation.

"You were going to ask me?" asked Ron, in a completely different

voice.

"Yes," said Hermione angrily. "But obviously if you'd rather I hooked

up with McLaggen…"

There was a pause while Harry continued to pound the resilient pod

with a trowel.

"'No, I wouldn't,'" said Ron, in a very quiet voice.

"Well that had to be the most awkward ask-out that I had ever heard,"

commented Lily, "were you taking lessons from my son. That rivalled some

of James' attempts in awkwardness."

Hermione flushed, "looking back, it is pretty bad isn't it. What can I say,

we're friends with Harry, which automatically means that nothing can be

simple, we prefer trauma... it adds so much more flavour to your life."

"So you and Ron, eh?" asked Regulus with a nudge, "if you two get

together how come you are here and he is not?"

"Let's just say a few things in the future throw the metaphorical spanner

into the works of what I am sure would have been a romance for the ages,"

said Hermione, "besides, though I act like a bit of an idiot in this book we

do work things out. Eventually we decided that we were more in love with

the idea of being together than actually being together."

"What do you mean?" asked James looking slightly confused. Lily just

smiled and patted him on the arm, she knew perfectly well that relationships

were not his forte, something which she was quite proud of, because if he

did understand them he probably would have moved on from her years

ago... something which she was now eternally thankful that he didn't do.

"Just that we spent a lot of time with the Weasley family and that it was

almost expected that me and Ron would get together, with all our bickering

we were compared to an old married couple, which even further cemented

the idea in our minds. Also I guess everyone, both the Weasleys and myself

included, were in love with the idea of having one big happy family, which

trust me is not the case," Hermione paused for a moment to think of Fred

and the Weasley family, it was definitely not the fairytale she had

envisioned, "I think I was so in love with the idea of it that I thought I was

in love with Ron as well. Not that I don't love him, just not in that way

anymore."

"Complicated," said Sirius with a low whistle.

"Girls," said James shaking his head, fortunately Lily whacked him across

the back of the head before Hermione or Alice could reach for their wands.

"So what lead to this epiphany?" probed Regulus.

"Why do you care so much?" teased Hermione lightly, "it took awhile, it

started the next year when some stuff happened and I was given the chance

to think and over-think everything that had happened between us, but I

guess it still took awhile, these things don't happen overnight."

Harry missed the pod, hit the bowl, and shattered it.

"Reparo," he said hastily, poking the pieces with his wand, and the

bowl sprang back together again. The crash, however, appeared to have

awoken Ron and Hermione to Harry's presence. Hermione looked

flustered and immediately started fussing about for her copy of Flesh-

Eating Trees of the World to find out the correct way to juice

Snargaluff pods; Ron, on the other hand, looked sheepish but also

rather pleased with himself.

"Hand that over, Harry," said Hermione hurriedly. "It says we're

supposed to puncture them with something sharp…"

Harry passed her the pod in the bowl; he and Ron both snapped their

goggles back over their eyes and dived, once more, for the stump. It

was not as though he was really surprised, thought Harry, as he

wrestled with a thorny vine intent upon throttling him; he had had an

inkling that this might happen sooner or later.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, she supposed she shouldn't be surprised about

it, however given Harry's general ineptitude in the relationships department

she was.

But he was not sure how he felt about it…

"I never knew Harry had mixed feelings about it," commented Hermione,

slightly surprised.

He and Cho were now too embarrassed to look at each other, let alone

talk to each other; what if Ron and Hermione started going out

together, then split up? Could their friendship survive it? Harry

remembered the few weeks when they had not been talking to each

other in the third year; he had not enjoyed trying to bridge the distance

between them.

Hermione looked slightly guilty, considering despite the lack of relationship

with Ron in sixth year, Harry was put in that position anyway due to the

lack of maturity displayed by Ronald, and admittedly herself at times as

well.

And then, what if they didn't split up? What if they became like Bill

and Fleur, and it became excruciatingly embarrassing to be in their

presence, so that he was shut out for good?

Hermione suddenly had an image of her calling Ron 'Won-Won' like

Lavender did, which made her shiver in disgust. Suddenly she didn't blame

Harry for being uncertain about a possible relationship between the two of

them.

"Gotcha!" yelled Ron, pulling a second pod from the stump just as

Hermione managed to burst the first one open, so that the bowl was full

of tubers wriggling like pale green worms.

The rest of the lesson passed without further mention of Slughorn's

party. Although Harry watched his two friends more closely over the

next few days, Ron and Hermione did not seem any different except

that they were a little politer to each other than usual. Harry supposed

he would just have to wait to see what happened under the influence of

butterbeer in Slughorn's dimly lit room on the night of the party.

Hermione snorted slightly, she knew perfectly well what happened at

Slughorn's party.

In the meantime, however, he had more pressing worries. Katie Bell

was still in St. Mungo's Hospital with no prospect of leaving, which

meant that the promising Gryffindor team Harry had been training so

carefully since September was one Chaser short. He kept putting off

replacing Katie in the hope that she would return, but their opening

match against Slytherin was looming, and he finally had to accept that

she would not be back in time to play. Harry did not think he could

stand another full-House tryout. With a sinking feeling that had little to

do with Quidditch, he cornered Dean Thomas after Transfiguration

one day.

"Why would that cause a sinking feeling?" asked James.

"You'll see," said Hermione.

Most of the class had already left, although several twittering yellow

birds were still zooming around the room, all of Hermione's creation;

nobody else had succeeded in conjuring so much as a feather from thin

air.

"That was a fun lesson," reminisced Sirius, sharing a devious look with

James. Considering they mastered it prior to becoming an animagus, the

two along with Peter, spent the lesson conjuring slightly more vibrant birds.

They doubted that Minerva McGonagall would ever forget the day the

armies of flamingos, toucans and swans went to war against each other.

Sirius' only regret about the lesson was that James' flamingos beat what, in

his mind, was a vastly superior army of toucans.

"Are you still interested in playing Chaser?"

"Wha —? Yeah, of course!" said Dean excitedly. Over Dean's shoulder,

Harry saw Seamus Finnegan slamming his books into his bag, looking

sour. One of the reasons why Harry would have preferred not to have

to ask Dean to play was that he knew Seamus would not like it. On the

other hand, he had to do what was best for the team, and Dean had

outflown Seamus at the tryouts.

"Nothing like inter-house, or rather inter-dorm rivalry," said Remus, "you

should see those two sometimes when they are trying to out do each other,

particularly when practicing new charms or types of transfiguration."

"Well then, you're in," said Harry. "There's a practice tonight, seven

o'clock."

"Right," said Dean. "Cheers, Harry! Blimey, I can't wait to tell

Ginny!"

He sprinted out of the room, leaving Harry and Seamus alone together,

an uncomfortable moment made no easier when a bird dropping

landed on Seamus's head as one of Hermione's canaries whizzed over

them.

Seamus was not the only person disgruntled by the choice of Katie's

substitute. There was much muttering in the common room about the

fact that Harry had now chosen two of his class-mates for the team. As

Harry had endured much worse mutterings than this in his school

career, he was not particularly bothered, but all the same, the pressure

was increasing to provide a win in the upcoming match against

Slytherin. If Gryffindor won, Harry knew that the whole House would

forget that they had criticized him and swear that they had always

known it was a great team. If they lost… well, Harry thought wryly, he

had still endured worse mutterings…

Harry had no reason to regret his choice once he saw Dean fly that

evening; he worked well with Ginny and Demelza. The Beaters, Peakes

and Coote, were getting better all the time. The only problem was Ron.

Harry had known all along that Ron was an inconsistent player who

suffered from nerves and a lack of confidence, and unfortunately, the

looming prospect of the opening game of the season seemed to have

brought out all his old insecurities. After letting in half a dozen goals,

most of them scored by Ginny, his technique became wilder and wilder,

until he finally punched an oncoming Demelza Robins in the mouth.

"I'll admit to not knowing much about quidditch, but I am assuming that

isn't meant to happen," said Lily cheekily, "perhaps your friend Viktor could

offer Ron some lessons."

"I doubt Ronald would have appreciated that," said Hermione dryly,

"despite the fact he was a bigger fan-girl, than Viktor's actual fan-girls.

Though I admit I only say that because I love him."

"It was an accident, I'm sorry, Demelza, really sorry!" Ron shouted

after her as she zigzagged back to the ground, dripping blood

everywhere. "I just —"

"Panicked," Ginny said angrily, landing next to Demelza and

examining her fat lip. "You prat, Ron, look at the state of her!"

"I can fix that," said Harry, landing beside the two girls, pointing his

wand at Demelzas mouth, and saying "Episkey."

"You have no idea how happy Harry was once he taught himself that

charm," said Hermione, "it meant he didn't have to go to the white room of

death, aka the hospital wing every five minutes after he did something

spectacularly stupid."

"And Ginny, don't call Ron a prat, you're not the Captain of this team

—"

"Well, you seemed too busy to call him a prat and I thought someone

should —"

Harry forced himself not to laugh.

Several people in the room showed no such restraint.

"In the air, everyone, let's go…"

Overall it was one of the worst practices they had had all term, though

Harry did not feel that honesty was the best policy when they were this

close to the match.

"Good work, everyone, I think we'll flatten Slytherin," he said

bracingly, and the Chasers and Beaters left the changing room looking

reasonably happy with themselves.

"I played like a sack of dragon dung," said Ron in a hollow voice when

the door had swung shut behind Ginny.

"No, you didn't," said Harry firmly. "You're the best Keeper I tried

out, Ron. Your only problem is nerves."

He kept up a relentless flow of encouragement all the way back to the

castle, and by the time they reached the second floor, Ron was looking

marginally more cheerful. When Harry pushed open the tapestry to

take their usual shortcut up to Gryffindor Tower, however, they found

themselves looking at Dean and Ginny, who were locked in a close

embrace and kissing fiercely as though glued together.

"Oh fun, this should be interesting," said Remus.

"Why do you say that?" queried James.

"It wouldn't be included if it wasn't," pointed out Frank.

It was as though something large and scaly erupted into life in Harry's

stomach, clawing at his insides: Hot blood seemed to flood his brain, so

that all thought was extinguished, replaced by a savage urge to jinx

Dean into a jelly. Wrestling with this sudden madness, he heard Ron's

voice as though from a great distance away.

"Oy!"

"I think someone might be jealous," commented Frank dryly, "as last time I

checked large scaly monsters don't inhabit people's digestive systems."

Dean and Ginny broke apart and looked around. "What?" said Ginny.

"I don't want to find my own sister snogging people in public!"

"This was a deserted corridor till you came butting in!" said Ginny.

Dean was looking embarrassed. He gave Harry a shifty grin that Harry

did not return, as the newborn monster inside him was roaring for

Dean's instant dismissal from the team.

"Please hold on to your sanity son!" pleaded James, "it isn't worth losing a

quidditch match over."

"Er… c'mon, Ginny," said Dean, "let's go back to the common

room…"

"You go!" said Ginny. "I want a word with my dear brother!" Dean

left, looking as though he was not sorry to depart the scene.

"Some Gryffindor he is," commented Sirius.

"Yes I forgot that the absence of a brain was requirement for entry into that

house," drawled Severus, "most people would have called what he did

smart."

"Right," said Ginny, tossing her long red hair out of her face and

glaring at Ron, "let's get this straight once and for all. It is none of your

business who I go out with or what I do with them, Ron —"

"Yeah, it is!" said Ron, just as angrily. "D' you think I want people

saying my sister's a —"

"A what?" shouted Ginny, drawing her wand. "A what, exactly?"

"He doesn't mean anything, Ginny —" said Harry automatically,

though the monster was roaring its approval of Ron's words.

"Oh yes he does!" she said, flaring up at Harry. "Just because he's

never snogged anyone in his life, just because the best kiss he's ever had

is from our Auntie Muriel —"

Albus shivered slightly at the thought of Muriel Prewett kissing anybody...

ghastly woman.

"Shut your mouth!" bellowed Ron, bypassing red and turning maroon.

"No, I will not!" yelled Ginny, beside herself. "I've seen you with

Phlegm, hoping she'll kiss you on the cheek every time you see her, it's

pathetic! If you went out and got a bit of snogging done yourself, you

wouldn't mind so much that everyone else does it!"

Hermione had a feeling that she found the inspiration for the 'Won-Won and

Lav-Lav' fiasco.

Ron had pulled out his wand too; Harry stepped swiftly between them.

"I'm not sure if that was immensely stupid or immensely brave,"

commented James, "either way it doesn't say much about his self-

preservation instincts."

"It's acts like that which define Harry," commented Hermione.

"He gets it from you," said Lily looking at her future husband.

"You don't know what you're talking about!" Ron roared, trying to get

a clear shot at Ginny around Harry, who was now standing in front of

her with his arms outstretched. "Just because I don't do it in public

—!"

Ginny screamed with derisive laughter, trying to push Harry out of the

way.

"Been kissing Pigwidgeon, have you? Or have you got a picture of

Auntie Muriel stashed under your pillow?"

"You —"

A streak of orange light flew under Harry's left arm and missed Ginny

by inches; Harry pushed Ron up against the wall.

"Don't be stupid —"

"Harry's snogged Cho Chang!" shouted Ginny, who sounded close to

tears now. "And Hermione snogged Viktor Krum, it's only you who

acts like it's something disgusting, Ron, and that's because you've got

about as much experience as a twelve-year-old!"

"Something which he will soon rectify," commented Hermione.

And with that, she stormed away. Harry quickly let go of Ron; the look

on his face was murderous. They both stood there, breathing heavily,

until Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat, appeared around the corner, which broke

the tension.

"C'mon," said Harry, as the sound of Filch's shuffling feet reached

their ears.

They hurried up the stairs and along a seventh-floor corridor. "Oy, out

of the way!" Ron barked at a small girl who jumped in fright and

dropped a bottle of toadspawn.

"That was polite," commented Severus sarcastically. Hermione wasn't sure

whether to grimace or smirk at the thought that it was either Crabbe or

Goyle who was posing as the small girl.

Harry hardly noticed the sound of shattering glass; he felt disoriented,

dizzy; being struck by a lightning bolt must be something like this. It's

just because she's Ron's sister, he told himself. You just didn't like

seeing her kissing Dean because she's Ron's sister… But unbidden into

his mind came an image of that same deserted corridor with himself

kissing Ginny instead…

"Trust me," said Frank, "he wouldn't be doing that if he thought of her as a

sister."

The monster in his chest purred… but then he saw Ron ripping open

the tapestry curtain and drawing his wand on Harry, shouting things

like "betrayal of trust"… "supposed to be my friend"…

"Is he talking about you or Dean?" asked Alice curiously.

"No idea," said Hermione, "however it does explain a few things that

happened though."

"D'you think Hermione did snog Krum?" Ron asked abruptly, as they

approached the Fat Lady. Harry gave a guilty start and wrenched his

imagination away from a corridor in which no Ron intruded, in which

he and Ginny were quite alone —

"What?" he said confusedly. "Oh… er…" The honest answer was

"yes," but he did not want to give it. However, Ron seemed to gather

the worst from the look on Harry's face.

"A smite upon Harry's gorgeous, but expressive eyes," said Hermione half-

heartedly cursing her best friend.

"Dilligrout," he said darkly to the Fat Lady, and they climbed through

the portrait hole into the common room.

Neither of them mentioned Ginny or Hermione again; indeed, they

barely spoke to each other that evening and got into bed in silence, each

absorbed in his own thoughts, Harry lay awake for a long time, looking

up at the canopy of his four-poster and trying to convince himself that

his feelings for Ginny were entirely elder-brotherly. They had lived,

had they not, like brother and sister all summer, playing Quidditch,

teasing Ron, and having a laugh about Bill and Phlegm? He had known

Ginny for years now… It was natural that he should feel protective…

natural that he should want to look out for her… want to rip Dean limb

from limb for kissing her… No… he would have to control that

particular brotherly feeling…

"That is not a brotherly sentiment," said Regulus, "because I better hope

Sirius doesn't want to do that if he ever sees me with a female, not that it

would probably ever happen."

"Why not?" asked Hermione curiously, not quite understanding what he

thought was unlikely, him kissing someone, or Sirius walking in on said

kiss. However in her personal opinion, she doubted the former would be a

problem as the younger Black cut an impressive figure.

"According to your timeline I die next year," pointed out Regulus, "doesn't

leave all that much time, provided I actually choose to have some modicum

of taste."

Ron gave a great grunting snore. She's Ron's sister, Harry told himself

firmly. Ron's sister. She's out-of-bounds. He would not risk his

friendship with Ron for anything. He punched his pillow into a more

comfortable shape and waited for sleep to come, trying his utmost not

to allow his thoughts to stray anywhere near Ginny.

Harry awoke next morning feeling slightly dazed and confused by a

series of dreams in which Ron had chased him with a Beater's bat, but

by midday he would have happily exchanged the dream Ron for the

real one, who was not only cold-shouldering Ginny and Dean, but also

treating a hurt and bewildered Hermione with an icy, sneering

indifference.

"I wish I knew why he did that at the time," said Hermione.

"How come?" asked Frank.

"So I could hit him over the head with my arithmacy textbook," said

Hermione, "he was being an imbecilic moron."

What was more, Ron seemed to have become, overnight, as touchy and

ready to lash out as the average Blast-Ended Skrewt. Harry spent the

day attempting to keep the peace between Ron and Hermione with no

success; finally, Hermione departed for bed in high dudgeon, and Ron

stalked off to the boys' dormitory after swearing angrily at several

frightened first years for looking at him.

To Harry's dismay, Ron's new aggression did not wear off over the next

few days. Worse still, it coincided with an even deeper dip in his

Keeping skills, which made him still more aggressive, so that during the

final Quidditch practice before Saturdays match, he failed to save

every single goal the Chasers aimed at him, but bellowed at everybody

so much that he reduced Demelza Robins to tears.

"Please don't kill me for saying this," said James.

"Which is usually an indication that Lily is going to hex him," pointed out

Remus, "however do go on..."

"But I think his sister is right, Ron definitely needs to get something, if you

get my drift," said James.

"Oh yes," mocked Alice, "it is affecting his quidditch performance."

Hermione snorted, perhaps she should thank Lavander after all, Ron was

infinitely easier to deal with when he had his tongue down her throat than

when he was blowing up at the rest of the school pointlessly.

"You shut up and leave her alone!" shouted Peakes, who was about

two-thirds Ron's height, though admittedly carrying a heavy bat.

"ENOUGH!" bellowed Harry, who had seen Ginny glowering in Ron's

direction and, remembering her reputation as an accomplished caster

of the Bat-Bogey Hex, soared over to intervene before things got out of

hand.

"Peakes, go and pack up the Bludgers. Demelza, pull yourself together,

you played really well today, Ron…" he waited until the rest of the

team were out of earshot before saying it, "you're my best mate, but

carry on treating the rest of them like this and I'm going to kick you off

the team."

He really thought for a moment that Ron might hit him, but then

something much worse happened: Ron seemed to sag on his broom; all

the fight went out of him and he said, "I resign. I'm pathetic."

"You're not pathetic and you're not resigning!" said Harry fiercely,

seizing Ron by the front of his robes. "You can save anything when

you're on form, it's a mental problem you've got!"

"You calling me mental?"

"Yeah, maybe I am!"

They glared at each other for a moment, then Ron shook his head

wearily. "I know you haven't got any time to find another Keeper, so

I'll play tomorrow, but if we lose, and we will, I'm taking myself off the

team."

Nothing Harry said made any difference. He tried boosting Ron's

confidence all through dinner, but Ron was too busy being grumpy and

surly with Hermione to notice. Harry persisted in the common room

that evening, but his assertion that the whole team would be devastated

if Ron left was somewhat undermined by the fact that the rest of the

team was sitting in a huddle in a distant corner, clearly muttering

about Ron and casting him nasty looks.

A few people snorted at that.

Finally Harry tried getting angry again in the hope of provoking Ron

into a defiant, and hopefully goal-saving, attitude, but this strategy did

not appear to work any better than encouragement; Ron went to bed as

dejected and hopeless as ever.

Harry lay awake for a very long time in the darkness. He did not want

to lose the upcoming match; not only was it his first as Captain, but he

was determined to beat Draco Malfoy at Quidditch even if he could not

yet prove his suspicions about him. Yet if Ron played as he had done in

the last few practices, their chances of winning were very slim…

If only there was something he could do to make Ron pull himself

together… make him play at the top of his form… something that

would ensure that Ron had a really good day… And the answer came

to Harry in one, sudden, glorious stroke of inspiration.

"Please tell me he doesn't do what I think he is going to do!" begged Lily.

"Very well," said Hermione.

"But it is illegal to use Felix for competitions... he could get into trouble,"

said Lily, "especially if Severus is the one who finds out."

"Relax Lils," said James trying to calm her, "he's a Potter, when do we ever

get caught?"

"Do you really want an answer to that question, Mr Potter?" said Minerva

McGonagall pointedly.

Breakfast was the usual excitable affair next morning; the Slytherins

hissed and booed loudly as every member of the Gryffindor team

entered the Great Hall. Harry glanced at the ceiling and saw a clear,

pale blue sky: a good omen. The Gryffindor table, a solid mass of red

and gold, cheered as Harry and Ron approached. Harry grinned and

waved; Ron grimaced weakly and shook his head.

"Cheer up, Ron!" called Lavender. "I know you'll be brilliant!"

Ron ignored her.

"Tea?" Harry asked him. "Coffee? Pumpkin juice?"

"Anything," said Ron glumly, taking a moody bite of toast.

A few minutes later Hermione, who had become so tired of Ron's

recent unpleasant behaviour that she had not come down to breakfast

with them, paused on her way up the table.

"How are you both feeling?" she asked tentatively, her eyes on the back

of Ron's head.

"Fine," said Harry, who was concentrating on handing Ron a glass of

pumpkin juice.

"There you go, Ron. Drink up."

Ron had just raised the glass to his lips when Hermione spoke sharply.

"Don't drink that, Ron!"

Both Harry and Ron looked up at her.

"Why not?" said Ron.

"Yes, why not?" asked James, though he had a feeling about what Hermione

was thinking, he just wasn't sure if Harry actually went through with the

potion, after all the kid seemed to have a pretty strong moral compass and

sense of fair-play, so he wasn't really likely to go through with it in his

opinion.

Hermione was now staring at Harry as though she could not believe

her eyes.

"You just put something in that drink."

"Excuse me?" said Harry.

"You heard me. I saw you. You just tipped something into Ron's drink.

You've got the bottle in your hand right now!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Harry, stowing the little

bottle hastily in his pocket.

"Ron, I warn you, don't drink it!" Hermione said again, alarmed, but

Ron picked up the glass, drained it in one gulp, and said, "Stop bossing

me around, Hermione."

She looked scandalized. Bending low so that only Harry could hear her,

she hissed, "You should be expelled for that. I'd never have believed it

of you, Harry!"

"Because you would dob him in and get him expelled?" asked Remus

amusedly, "after all imagine how guilty you would feel if you were

responsible for removing him from a place he considers to be a home and

leaving him to fend for himself against an evil mass murderer without even

finishing his education..."

"Shut up," said Hermione flushing slighty, "I get it, I wouldn't turn Harry in,

so just shut up so we can keep reading."

"Look who's talking," he whispered back. "Confunded anyone lately?"

She stormed up the table away from them. Harry watched her go

without regret. Hermione had never really understood what a serious

business Quidditch was. He then looked around at Ron, who was

smacking his lips.

"He knew?" asked Lily.

"I think he suspected," said Alice, "though I don't think Harry was trying to

hide it, after all it seems he almost did it on purpose when Hermione was

around so she would comment on it."

"Nearly time!' said Harry blithely.

The frosty grass crunched underfoot as they strode down to the

stadium.

"Pretty lucky the weathers this good, eh?" Harry asked Ron.

Hermione snorted slightly, Harry was playing this up well, probably to

reaffirm Ron's suspicions.

"Yeah," said Ron, who was pale and sick-looking.

Ginny and Demelza were already wearing their Quidditch robes and

waiting in the changing room.

"Conditions look ideal," said Ginny, ignoring Ron. "And guess what?

That Slytherin Chaser Vaisey — he took a Bludger in the head

yesterday during their practice, and he's too sore to play! And even

better than that — Malfoy's gone off sick too!"

"What?" said Harry, wheeling around to stare at her. "He's ill? What's

wrong with him?"

"No idea, but it's great for us," said Ginny brightly. "They're playing

Harper instead; he's in my year and he's an idiot."

"Not that Malfoy was actually all that good himself," commented

Hermione.

Harry smiled back vaguely, but as he pulled on his scarlet robes his

mind was far from Quidditch. Malfoy had once before claimed he could

not play due to injury, but on that occasion he had made sure the whole

match was rescheduled for a time that suited the Slytherins better. Why

was he now happy to let a substitute go on? Was he really ill, or was he

faking?

"While curious and worth consideration," said James, "it is quidditch time,

so speculate later."

"Fishy, isn't it?" he said in an undertone to Ron. "Malfoy not playing?"

"Lucky, I call it," said Ron, looking slightly more animated. "And

Vaisey off too, he's their best goal scorer, I didn't fancy — hey!" he said

suddenly, freezing halfway through pulling on his Keepers gloves and

staring at Harry.

"What?"

"I… you…" Ron had dropped his voice, he looked both scared and

excited. "My drink… my pumpkin juice… you didn't…?"

Harry raised his eyebrows, but said nothing except, "We'll be starting

in about five minutes, you'd better get your boots on."

They walked out onto the pitch to tumultuous roars and boos. One end

of the stadium was solid red and gold; the other, a sea of green and

silver. Many Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had taken sides too: Amidst

all the yelling and clapping Harry could distinctly hear the roar of

Luna Lovegood's famous lion-topped hat. Harry stepped up to Madam

Hooch, the referee, who was standing ready to release the balls from

the crate.

"Captains shake hands," she said, and Harry had his hand crushed by

the new Slytherin Captain, Urquhart. "Mount your brooms. On the

whistle… three… two… one…"

The whistle sounded, Harry and the others kicked off hard from the

frozen ground, and they were away.

Harry soared around the perimeter of the grounds, looking around for

the Snitch and keeping one eye on Harper, who was zigzagging far

below him. Then a voice that was jarringly different to the usual

commentator's started up.

Hermione scowled, she wasn't fond of Zacharias Smith, or his style of

commentary, she agreed with Harry and Ron, Luna's was much better.

"Well, there they go, and I think we're all surprised to see the team that

Potter's put together this year. Many thought, given Ronald Weasley's

patchy performance as Keeper last year, that he might be off the team,

but of course, a close personal friendship with the Captain does

help…"

These words were greeted with jeers and applause from the Slytherin

end of the pitch. Harry craned around on his broom to look toward the

commentator's podium. A tall, skinny blond boy with an upturned nose

was standing there, talking into the magical megaphone that had once

been Lee Jordan's; Harry recognized Zacharias Smith, a Hufflepuff

player whom he heartily disliked.

"Hex him later," suggested Sirius.

"It seems I got all of my family's quality genes so wherever in the family

the prick turned up in got the crap leftovers," observed Alice.

"Because your genes are so good," pointed out Remus dryly, "if you were

given the decent ones then your family is screwed."

"Oh, and here comes Slytherin's first attempt on goal, it's Urquhart

streaking down the pitch and —"

Harrys stomach turned over.

"— Weasley saves it, well, he's bound to get lucky sometimes, I

suppose…"

"That's good," said James, "it is working."

"That's right, Smith, he is," muttered Harry, grinning to himself, as he

dived amongst the Chasers with his eyes searching all around for some

hint of the elusive Snitch.

With half an hour of the game gone, Gryffindor were leading sixty

points to zero, Ron having made some truly spectacular saves, some by

the very tips of his gloves, and Ginny having scored four of

Gryffindor's six goals. This effectively stopped Zacharias wondering

loudly whether the two Weasleys were only there because Harry liked

them, and he started on Peakes and Coote instead.

"Of course, Coote isn't really the usual build for a Beater," said

Zacharias loftily, "they've generally got a bit more muscle —"

"Aim is more important," disagreed Sirius, "after all what is the point of

speeding ball if it isn't going to hit anything."

"Then why are you playing?" asked Regulus, "you can hit a flying target to

save yourself."

"Your hospital wing record begs to differ," replied Sirius with a smirk, "I

love playing you in quidditch, the only time I can send you to the hospital

wing and not get in trouble."

"Hit a Bludger at him!" Harry called to Coote as he zoomed past, but

Coote, grinning broadly, chose to aim the next Bludger at Harper

instead, who was just passing Harry in the opposite direction. Harry

was pleased to hear the dull thunk that meant the Bludger had found

its mark.

It seemed as though Gryffindor could do no wrong. Again and again

they scored, and again and again, at the other end of the pitch, Ron

saved goals with apparent ease. He was actually smiling now, and when

the crowd greeted a particularly good save with a rousing chorus of the

old favorite "Weasley Is Our King," he pretended to conduct them

from on high.

"Thinks he's something special today, doesn't he?" said a snide voice,

and Harry was nearly knocked off his broom as Harper collided with

him hard and deliberately. "Your blood-traitor pal…"

Madam Hooch's back was turned, and though Gryffindors below

shouted in anger, by the time she looked around, Harper had already

sped off. His shoulder aching, Harry raced after him, determined to

ram him back…

"And I think Harper of Slytherin's seen the Snitch!" said Zacharias

Smith through his megaphone. "Yes, he's certainly seen something

Potter hasn't!"

Smith really was an idiot, thought Harry, hadn't he noticed them

collide? But next moment, his stomach seemed to drop out of the, sky

— Smith was right and Harry was wrong: Harper had not sped

upward at random; he had spotted what Harry had not: The Snitch

was speeding along high above them, glinting brightly against the clear

blue sky.

"Come on son, you can do it" encouraged James.

Harry accelerated; the wind was whistling in his ears so that it

drowned all sound of Smith's commentary or the crowd, but Harper

was still ahead of him, and Gryffindor was only a hundred points up; if

Harper got there first Gryffindor had lost… and now Harper was feet

from it, his hand outstretched…

"Oy, Harper!" yelled Harry in desperation. "How much did Malfoy

pay you to come on instead of him?"

"Are you allowed to do that?" wondered Lily.

"Unconventional, but not uncommon, probably not meant to, but that stops

nobody," said Regulus, "Sirius is particularly fond of using that tactic, we

have had some fascinating conversations and aired quite a bit of dirty

laundry while playing quidditch."

He did not know what made him say it, but Harper did a double-take;

he fumbled the Snitch, let it slip through his fingers, and shot right past

it. Harry made a great swipe for the tiny, fluttering ball and caught it.

"YES!" Harry yelled.

Wheeling around, he hurtled back toward the ground, the Snitch held

high in his hand. As the crowd realized what had happened, a great

shout went up that almost drowned the sound of the whistle that

signaled the end of the game.

"Ginny, where're you going?" yelled Harry, who had found hint self

trapped in the midst of a mass midair hug with the rest of the team, but

Ginny sped right on past them until, with an almighty crash, she

collided with the commentators podium.

"Whoops," said Frank dryly, "what a shame her broomstick chose that

moment to malfunction."

As the crowd shrieked and laughed, the Gryffindor team landed beside

the wreckage of wood under which Zacharias was feebly stirring;

Harry heard Ginny saying blithely to an irate Professor McGonagall,

"Forgot to brake, Professor, sorry."

Most of the room found themselves in fits of laughter.

Laughing, Harry broke free of the rest of the team and hugged Ginny,

but let go very quickly. Avoiding her gaze, he clapped cheering Ron on

the back instead as, all enmity forgotten, the Gryffindor team left the

pitch arm in arm, punching the air and waving to their supporters.

The atmosphere in the changing room was jubilant. "Party up in the

common room, Seamus said!" yelled Dean exuberantly. "C'mon,

Ginny, Demelza!"

Ron and Harry were the last two in the changing room. They were just

about to leave when Hermione entered. She was twisting her

Gryffindor scarf in her hands and looked upset but determined. "I

want a word with you, Harry." She took a deep breath. "You shouldn't

have done it. You heard Slughorn, its illegal."

"What are you going to do, turn us in?" demanded Ron.

"What are you two talking about?" asked Harry, turning away to hang

up his robes so that neither of them would see him grinning,

"He faked it!" said Lily.

"Yes love," said James, "I guessed that awhile back, our son has a very

strong sense of fair play, I doubted he actually did it."

"You know perfectly well what we're talking about!" said Hermione

shrilly. "You spiked Ron's juice with lucky potion at breakfast! Felix

Felicis!"

"No, I didn't," said Harry, turning back to face them both.

"Yes you did, Harry, and that's why everything went right, there were

Slytherin players missing and Ron saved everything!"

"That probably isn't the best thing to say when trying to impress a boy,"

pointed out Regulus, "you are meant to compliment their quidditch skills,

rather than say the only reason they could save something is out of luck...

you might want to remember that for next time."

"I didn't put it in!" said Harry, grinning broadly. He slipped his hand

inside his jacket pocket and drew out the tiny bottle that Hermione had

seen in his hand that morning. It was full of golden potion and the cork

was still tightly sealed with wax. "I wanted Ron to think I'd done it, so I

faked it when I knew you were looking." He looked at Ron. "You saved

everything because you felt lucky. You did it all yourself."

He pocketed the potion again.

"There really wasn't anything in my pumpkin juice?" Ron said,

astounded. "But the weather's good… and Vaisey couldn't play… I

honestly haven't been given lucky potion?"

Harry shook his head. Ron gaped at him for a moment, then rounded

on Hermione, imitating her voice. "You added Felix Felicis to Ron's

juice this morning, that's why he saved everything! See! I can save

goals without help, Hermione!"

"Told you it would backfire," said a smug Regulus.

"Put a cork in it," said Hermione pouting slightly, she knew considering

upcoming events and the Lav-Lav fiasco just how much that comment

backfired.

"I didn't know you felt that way," said Regulus blithely, knowing Hermione

wasn't really annoyed with him.

"Now I see why Sirius ran away from home, so he wouldn't have to put up

with you constantly," retorted Hermione.

"It's good to see someone else sympathises with my desire to strangle him,

although from what I have heard about his quidditch regime there might

actually be a queue."

"I never said you couldn't — Ron, you thought you'd been given it

too!"

But Ron had already strode past her out of the door with his

broomstick over his shoulder.

"Er," said Harry into the sudden silence; he had not expected his plan

to backfire like this, "shall… shall we go up to the party, then?"

"You go!" said Hermione, blinking back tears. "I'm sick of Ron at the

moment, I don't know what I'm supposed to have done…"

"Snog a fabulous, foreign, older student and quidditch star two years

previously," supplied Alice.

"I'm sure that is just what she wants to be told Ali," said Frank rolling his

eyes.

And she stormed out of the changing room too. Harry walked slowly

back up the grounds toward the castle through the crowd, many of

whom shouted congratulations at him, but he felt a great sense of

letdown; he had been sure that if Ron won the match, he and Hermione

would be friends again immediately. He did not see how he could

possibly explain to Hermione that what she had done to offend Ron was

kiss Viktor Krum, not when the offense had occurred so long ago.

"It is simple, you open your mouth and say the words..." said Alice with a

grin, "your son is an idiot Lils, well lets try it together for Hermione then,

repeat after me..."

Fortunately for Hermione's sanity Alice never go to continue and begin her

lesson, because for some unknown reason she found that she had been

silenced by someone from across the room. Regulus smirked slightly as

slipped his wand back into its holster.

"Good work Mie," said Sirius, "we should have done that years ago!"

Hermione looked confused for a minute... she didn't silence Alice, so who

did? She glanced to her side and saw Regulus looking rather smug and she

figured out who was responsible for temporarily preserving the little sanity

those in the room had left.

"Oh I am sure it was my pleasure," drawled Hermione, not bothering to

correct the assumption, it would take too long and she wanted to get back to

finishing the chapter.

Harry could not see Hermione at the Gryffindor celebration party,

which was in full swing when he arrived. Renewed cheers and clapping

greeted his appearance, and he was soon surrounded by a mob of

people congratulating him. What with trying to shake off the Creevey

brothers, who wanted a blow-by-blow match analysis, and the large

group of girls that encircled him, laughing at his least amusing

comments and batting their eyelids, it was some time before he could

try and find Ron. At last, he extricated himself from Romilda Vane,

who was hinting heavily that she would like to go to Slughorn's

Christmas party with him. As he was ducking toward the drinks table,

he walked straight into Ginny, Arnold the Pygmy Puff riding on her

shoulder and Crookshanks mewing hopefully at her heels.

"Looking for Ron?" she asked, smirking. "He's over there, the filthy

hypocrite."

"What has he done now?" asked Severus.

"More of a question of who," replied Hermione.

"I'm guessing that the answer is not you," deduced Frank.

Harry looked into the corner she was indicating. There, in full view of

the whole room, stood Ron wrapped so closely around Lavender Brown

it was hard to tell whose hands were whose.

"That was... unexpected," said Remus.

"It looks like he's eating her face, doesn't it?" said Ginny

dispassionately. "But I suppose he's got to refine his technique

somehow. Good game, Harry."

"Tell me James," said Lily with a devious smirk which spelt trouble for

James, "how did you refine your technique."

The look which graced James Potter's face was priceless. His face paled so

fast it looked like a colour change charm had been used and his eyes

popped out of his head comically, as he tried to find an answer which

wouldn't endanger his manhood. Remus and Sirius on the other hand

couldn't contain their amusement. Severus wondered if it would be

appropriate to take a photograph of the moment.

"Umm, umm," stuttered James.

"Perhaps I should continue reading," supplied Minerva, as much as she

enjoyed watching her head-boy squirm, she was anxious to finish the

chapter.

She patted him on the arm; Harry felt a swooping sensation in his

stomach, but then she walked off to help herself to more butterbeer.

Crookshanks trotted after her, his yellow eyes fixed upon Arnold.

"Perhaps another case of true love," suggested Remus.

"Either that or dinner," said Sirius.

Harry turned away from Ron, who did not look like he would be

surfacing soon, just as the portrait hole was closing. With a sinking

feeling, he thought he saw a mane of bushy brown hair whipping out of

sight.

"You saw, I am guessing," said Frank.

"He wasn't exactly hiding it," pointed out Hermione.

He darted forward, sidestepped Romilda Vane again, and pushed open

the portrait of the Fat Lady. The corridor outside, seemed to be

deserted.

"Hermione?"

He found her in the first unlocked classroom he tried.

"Stupid boy knows me too well," said Hermione, "I only just got there a

minute before and I was sprinting."

She was sitting on the teacher's desk, alone except for a small ring of

twittering yellow birds circling her head, which she had clearly just

conjured out of midair. Harry could not help admiring her spell-work

at a time like this.

Hermione blushed slightly, it felt good to know that Harry admired her.

"Oh, hello, Harry," she said in a brittle voice. "I was just practicing."

"Yeah… they're — er — really good…" said Harry.

He had no idea what to say to her. He was just wondering whether

there was any chance that she had not noticed Ron, that she had merely

left the room because the party was a little too rowdy, when she said, in

an unnaturally high-pitched voice, "Ron seems to be enjoying the

celebrations."

"Er… does he?" said Harry.

"Don't pretend you didn't see him," said Hermione. "He wasn't exactly

hiding it, was —?"

The door behind them burst open. To Harry's horror, Ron came in,

laughing, pulling Lavender by the hand.

"Was that done intentionally?" queried Lily.

"Haven't the foggiest," said Hermione, "I wasn't about to go up and ask,

now was I?"

"Oh," he said, drawing up short at the sight of Harry and Hermione.

"Oops!" said Lavender, and she backed out of the room, giggling. The

door swung shut behind her.

There was a horrible, swelling, billowing silence. Hermione was staring

at Ron, who refused to look at her, but said with an odd mixture of

bravado and awkwardness, "Hi, Harry! Wondered where you'd got

to!"

Hermione slid off the desk. The little flock of golden birds continued to

twitter in circles around her head so that she looked like a strange,

feathery model of the solar system.

"I think that must be oddest description of me thus far," mused Hermione,

"a strange, feathery model of the solar system... I suppose we should give

Harry points for having a rather active imagination."

"You shouldn't leave Lavender waiting outside," she said quietly.

"She'll wonder where you've gone."

She walked very slowly and erectly toward the door. Harry glanced at

Ron, who was looking relieved that nothing worse had happened.

"Yet," guessed Regulus, after seeing what Hermione did to Rita and

Umbridge, he got the feeling she could be rather vindictive.

"Oppugno!" came a shriek from the doorway.

"Whatever happened to silent casting?" teased James, apparently

sufficiently recovered from Lily's wicked moment.

Hermione decided that since James obviously doubted her ability to cast the

spell silently, she would give him a demonstration of her casting

capabilities. James only narrowly avoided being dive-bombed by a flock of

canaries by pulling out his wand and transfiguring them silently into

bubbles.

"See, I can do silent casting too," smirked James.

Hermione contemplated trying again, but decided she would postpone her

revenge until a later date, a date when James would not be suspecting it.

Harry spun around to see Hermione pointing her wand at Ron, her

expression wild: The little flock of birds was speeding like a hail of fat

golden bullets toward Ron, who yelped and covered his face with his

hands, but the birds attacked, pecking and clawing at every bit of flesh

they could reach.

"Gerremoffme!" he yelled, but with one last look of vindictive fury,

Hermione wrenched open the door and disappeared through it. Harry

thought he heard a sob before it slammed.

"Someone's touchy," remarked Sirius.

"I suppose Ron was," said Hermione lightly, purposely misinterpreting the

sarcastic remark, "he did tend to tread rather carefully after that and became

rather uncomfortable at the sight of canaries."

"You are vengeful one, aren't you Mie," said James.

"Perhaps that is an indication for you to fear for your life," said Hermione,

"I may like your son, but that won't stop me from hexing you."

"Perhaps not," said James, "but since you love my son and want his

continued existence, you have a vested interested in protecting me and the

Potter family jewels."

"Perhaps," replied Hermione, "but turning said jewels lime green and

electric orange wouldn't interfere with that sentiment."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," said Lily.

"That was the end of the chapter," said Minerva, she was glad it was

because it seemed everyone's minds had wandered for the present. After a

few more minutes of diversion, Albus called the group back to order.

"Perhaps Mr Longbottom could take the silencing charm off Miss Smith

and we can resume reading, perhaps a final chapter before we turn in for the

night?"

"I thought it was too quiet," said Frank, as he took the book, opened it to the

next page, before flicking his wand in Alice's direction, removing the

charm. However to avoid any scenes Frank started reading straight away.

AN: Thanks for reading, please review! Cheers!

15. Chapter 15

The Unbreakable Vow

AN: Here is another chapter. A massive thank you to all who reviewed, it

was much appreciated and I enjoyed reading your feedback. As per usual I

own nothing which you can recognise, I merely enjoy mucking around with

the characters. I hope you enjoy the next installment. Happy Reading!

Cheers!

"The Unbreakable Vow," read out Frank quickly, moving on straight away

to the story before Alice could scold the room for the extended period of

bliss while she was under the silencing charm, as it was unlikely that she

would have had the same appreciation of the incident.

Snow was swirling against the icy windows once more; Christmas was

approaching fast. Hagrid had already single-handedly delivered the

usual twelve Christmas trees to the Great Hall; garlands of holly and

tinsel had been twisted around the banisters of the stairs; everlasting

candles glowed from inside the helmets of suits of armor and great

bunches of mistletoe had been hung at intervals along the corridors.

Large groups of girls tended to converge underneath the mistletoe

bunches every time Harry went past, which caused blockages in the

corridors; fortunately, however, Harry's frequent night-time

wanderings had given him an unusually good knowledge of the castle's

secret passageways, so that he was often, without too much difficulty, to

navigate mistletoe-free routes between classes.

"Who would imagine that mistletoe would pose such a problem for a

hormonal sixteen year old kid?" said Alice, "I don't remember Frank

avoiding it last Christmas, or this Christmas for that matter."

"Well I sympathise with him," said Lily hautily, "I spent a good four years

trying to avoid meeting a certain imbecile under the accursed plant."

"Though I must say, you seem to have a new found appreciation for the

plant," smirked James, rather pleased at that change.

Ron, who might once have found the necessity of these detours excuse

for jealousy rather than hilarity, simply roared with laughter about it

all. Although Harry much preferred this new laughing, joking Ron to

the moody, aggressive model he had been enduring for the last few

weeks, the improved Ron came at a heavy price. Firstly, Harry had to

put up with the frequent presence of Lavender Brown, who seemed to

regard any moment that she was not kissing Ron as a moment wasted;

and secondly, Harry found himself once more the best friend of two

people who seemed unlikely ever to speak to each other again.

"He's exaggerating," said Hermione, "we did speak to each other again."

"And I am sure whatever happened to cause the reconciliation was equally

as dramatic as the cause of it," said Regulus, "I am betting on a fight and the

reappearance of the birds."

"I'll give you a reappearance of the birds," muttered Hermione.

Ron, whose hands and forearms still bore scratches and cuts from

Hermione's bird attack, was taking a defensive and resentful tone.

"She can't complain," he told Harry. "She snogged Krum. So she's

found out someone wants to snog me too. Well, it's a free country. I

haven't done anything wrong."

"Firstly," said Lily, "I believe that was two years ago, if James was hung up

on the people I may or may not have kissed two years ago he would be

meeting the wrong side of my wand."

"That is why he never let you know," said Remus, "instead we had to put up

with it and ended up on the wrong side of his wand due to no fault of our

own."

"May I point out here, that you always got revenge in triplicate," said James

dryly.

"That is because you always annoyed three people when you did it, so you

punishment had to suit the crime," said Sirius with a shrug.

Harry did not answer, but pretended to be absorbed in the book they

were supposed to have read before Charms next morning

(Quintessence: A Quest). Determined as he was to remain friends with

both Ron and Hermione, he was spending a lot of time with his mouth

shut tight.

"I never promised Hermione anything," Ron mumbled. "I mean, all

right, I was going to go to Slughorn's Christmas party with her, but she

never said… just as friends… I'm a free agent…"

Harry turned a page of Quintessence, aware that Ron was watching

him. Ron's voice trailed away in mutters, barely audible over the loud

crackling of the fire, though Harry thought he caught the words

"Krum" and "Can't complain" again.

"Oh for Merlins sake," said Severus, "if we have to put up with that pathetic

whining for a whole chapter, I quit, that boy is going to get on my wits end

soon."

"He's not that bad, it is better that he is childish and not have to worry about

reality for awhile, instead of having to fear for his life in the wilderness or

something," defended Hermione staunchly, while she agreed with Severus

that Ron was rather annoying at times, and that particular part of sixth year

was one of them, she still loved the boy and he was one of her best friends.

Hermione's schedule was so full that Harry could only talk to her

properly in the evenings, when Ron was, in any case, so tightly

wrapped around Lavender that he did not notice what Harry was

doing. Hermione refused to sit in the common room while Ron was

there, so Harry generally joined her in the library, which meant that

their conversations were held in whispers.

"He's at perfect liberty to kiss whomever he likes," said Hermione,

while the librarian, Madam Pince, prowled the shelves behind them. "I

really couldn't care less."

She raised her quill and dotted an 'i' so ferociously that she punctured

a hole in her parchment.

"Could have fooled me," said Severus sarcastically.

Harry said nothing. He thought his voice might soon vanish from the

lack of use. He bent a little lower over Advanced Potion-Making and

continued to make notes on Everlasting Elixirs, occasionally pausing to

decipher the prince's useful additions to Libatius Borage's text.

"And incidentally," said Hermione, after a few moments, "you need to

be careful."

"For the last time," said Harry, speaking in a slightly hoarse tone after

three-quarters of an hour of silence, "I am not giving back this book.

I've learned more from the Half-blood prince than Snape or Slughorn

have taught me in —"

"I'm not talking about your stupid so-called prince," said Hermione,

giving his book a nasty look as though it had been rude to her. "I'm

talking about earlier. I went into the girl's bathroom just before I came

in here and there were about a dozen girls in there, including that

Romilda Vane, trying to decide how to slip you a love potion.

"Oh fun," said Sirius, "it is like playing Russian roulette except instead of

scoring a bullet from a gun, you win the infatuation of a sycophantic

fangirl, not sure which is worse, however I guess that means that Harry will

have to be careful when eating now."

Hermione merely looked at him, "how on earth do you know what Russian

Roulette is?"

"I read, I figured a bookworm such as yourself would have figured that

out," teased Sirius.

They're all hoping they're going to get you to take them to Slughorn's

party, and they all seem to have bought Fred and George's love potions,

which I'm afraid to say probably work —"

"Why didn't you confiscate them then?" demanded Harry, it seemed

extraordinary that Hermione's mania for upholding the rules could

have abandoned her at this crucial juncture.

"They didn't have the potions with them in the bathroom," said

Hermione scornfully, "They were just discussing tactics. As I doubt the

Half-blood prince" she gave the book another scornful look "could

dream up an antidote for a dozen different love potions at once, I'd just

invite someone to go with you, that'll stop all the others thinking

they've still got a chance. It's tomorrow night, they're getting

desperate."

Severus smirked, he wondered if Hermione wanted to bet on that.

"There isn't anyone I want to invite," mumbled Harry, who was still

not trying to think about Ginny any more than he could help, despite

the fact the fact that she kept cropping up in his dreams in ways that

made him devoutly thankful that Ron could not perform Legilimency.

"I don't think Ron would be able to, in all honesty," said Regulus, "as it

requires a lot of mind control and given his reaction to Veelas and the

imperious curse, which use much of the same discipline, he would not be

able to master it."

"Well, just be careful what you drink, because Romilda Vane looked

like she meant business." said Hermione grimly.

She hitched up the long roll of parchment on which she was writing her

Arithmancy essay and continued to scratch away with her quill. Harry

watched her with his mind a long way away.

"Hang on a moment," he said slowly. "I thought Filch had banned

anything bought at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes?"

"And when has anyone ever paid attention to what Filch has banned?"

asked Hermione, still concentrating on her essay.

"But I thought all the owls were being searched. So how come these

girls are able to bring love potions into the school?"

"Fred and George send them disguised as perfumes and cough

potions," said Hermione. "It's part of their Owl order service."

"You know a lot about it."

Hermione gave him the kind of nasty look she had just given his copy

of Advanced Potion-Making.

"It was all on the back of the bottles they showed Ginny and me in the

summer," she said coldly, "I don't go around putting potions in

people's drinks… or pretending to either, which is just as bad…"

"That was a bit harsh," commented James.

"I know," said Hermione guiltily, "however I had to siphon my tension out

on someone and he was the only person around for the most part. Harry had

a really tough year and I will admit that Ron and I probably didn't help it at

all."

"Yeah, well, never mind that," said Harry quickly. "The point is, Filch

is being fooled isn't he? These girls are getting stuff into the school

disguised as something else! So why couldn't Malfoy have brought the

necklace into the school —?"

"Oh, Harry… not that again…"

"Come on, why not?" demanded Harry.

"Look," sighed Hermione, "Secrecy Sensors detect jinxes, curses, and

concealment charms, don't they? They're used to find dark magic and

dark objects. They'd have picked up a powerful curse, like the one in

the necklace, within seconds. But something that's just been put in the

wrong bottle wouldn't register — anyway Love potions aren't dark or

dangerous -"

"Are you sure about that?" asked Sirius, "they are almost as bad the

imperious, as they give someone else the power and control over your

mind."

"But the charter on the sale of restricted potions only allows for certain love

potions to be marketed," pointed out Frank, "after all there are defence

mechanisms which must be proven to have been incorporated, such as the

reduced potency if exposed to for an extended period of time."

"What I don't understand is why they are allowed on the market at all," said

Lily, "you shouldn't be able to manipulate someone's emotions like that."

"Most people do it without potions anyway," pointed out Sirius, "besides

because love potions are a restricted substance the ministry can tax them, so

they wouldn't want to lose a valuable source of profit, if the potions were

banned then the ministry would lose that income."

"Potions are generally considered to be either a sort of joke, used for pranks

or to inspire or kick-start affection, and more frequently in the past, because

they are in fact lust potions for procreation methods, either for some sort of

increased affection or to make wedding nights of arranged marriages more

successful," explained Frank, flushing slightly, love/lust potions was not a

subject he was particularly fond of talking about at all, let alone in front of

two professors and several students who he was still only getting to know, "

so while not considered the most socially acceptable option it doesn't stop it

from happening."

"So Al," said Lily, "why does your boyfriend need to know so much about

lust potions."

"Shut up Lils before I mention..."

"Perhaps you would like to continue," said Lily meekly, her cheeks

matching her hair.

"Easy for you to say," muttered Harry, thinking of Romilda Vane.

"— so it would be down to Filch to realize it wasn't a cough potion, and

he's not a very good wizard, I doubt he can tell one potion from —"

Hermione stopped dead; Harry had heard it too. Somebody had moved

close behind them among the dark bookshelves. They waited, and a

moment later the vulturelike countenance of Madam Pince appeared

around the corner, her sunken cheeks, her skin like parchment, and her

long hooked nose illuminated unflatteringly by the lamp she was

carrying.

"The library is now closed," she said, "Mind you return anything you

have borrowed to the correct — what have you been doing to that

book, you depraved boy?"

"Technically nothing," said Remus, "since it was the Prince who did it,

rather than Harry."

"It isn't the library's, it's mine!" said Harry hastily, snatching his copy

of Advanced Potion-Making off the table as she lunged at it with a

clawlike hand.

"Spoiled!" she hissed. "Desecrated, befouled!"

"It's just a book that's been written on!" said Harry, tugging it out of

her grip.

She looked as though she might have a seizure; Hermione, who had

hastily packed her things, grabbed Harry by the arm and frogmarched

him away.

"She'll ban you from the library if you're not careful. Why did you

have to bring that stupid book?"

"It's not my fault she's barking mad, Hermione. Or d'you think she

overheard you being rude about Filch? I've always thought there might

be something between them…"

A few people looked sick at the thought, Albus chuckled, he was well

aware of the various staff relationships.

"Oh, ha ha…"

Enjoying the fact that they could speak normally again, they made

their way along the deserted lamp-lit corridors back to the common

room, arguing whether or not Filch and Madam Pince were secretly in

love with each other.

"Baubles" said Harry to the Fat Lady, this being the new, festive

password.

"Same to you," said the fat lady with a roguish grin, and she swung

forward to admit them.

"Hi, Harry!" said Romilda Vane, the moment he had climbed through

the portrait hole. "Fancy a gillywater?"

Hermione gave him a "what-did-I-tell-you?" look over her shoulder.

"No thanks," said Harry quickly. "I don't like it much."

"Well, take these anyway," said Romilda, thrusting a box into his

hands. "Chocolate Cauldrons, they've got firewhiskey in them. My

gran sent them to me, but I don't like them."

"She has all the subtly of a demented hippogriff," commented Severus, "that

girl would never survive in Slytherin."

"That is an insult to hippogriffs," commented Remus.

"Oh — right — thanks a lot." said Harry, who could not think what

else to say. "Er — I ' m just going over here with…"

He hurried off behind Hermione, his voice tailing away feebly.

"Told you," said Hermione succinctly, " Sooner you ask someone,

sooner they'll all leave you alone and you can —"

But her face suddenly turned blank; she had just spotted Ron and

Lavender, who were intertwined in the same armchair.

"Well, good night, Harry" said Hermione, though it was only seven

o'clock in the evening, and she left for the girl s' dormitory without

another word.

Harry went to bed comforting himself that there was only one more

day of lessons to struggle through, plus Slughorn's party, after which

he and Ron would depart together for the Burrow. It now seemed

impossible that Ron and Hermione would make up with each other

before the holidays began, but perhaps, somehow, the break would give

them time to calm down, think better of their behaviour…

Hermione felt guilty for the fact that Harry caught in such a hard place, in

retrospect everything they did seemed so immature and childish. Harry

didn't deserve having both his friends effectively abandon him for a good

portion of the year. Perhaps it was no wonder he became so immersed in the

Draco Malfoy mystery, as neither her nor Ron were doing anything

worthwhile with him.

But his hopes were not high, and they sank still lower after enduring a

Transfiguration lesson with them both next day. They had just

embarked upon the immensely difficult topic of human

transfiguration; working in front of mirrors, they were supposed to be

changing the colour of their own eyebrows. Hermione laughed

unkindly at Ron's disastrous first attempt, during which he somehow

managed to give himself a spectacular handlebar moustache;

"It was funny," defended Hermione, "handlebars do not suit a 16 year old

Ron."

Ron retaliated by doing a cruel but accurate impression of Hermione

jumping up and down in her seat every time Professor McGonagall

asked a question, which Lavender and Parvati found deeply amusing

and which reduced Hermione to the verge of tears again. She raced out

of the classroom on the bell, leaving half her things behind; Harry,

deciding that her need was greater than Ron's just now, scooped up her

remaining possessions and followed her. He finally tracked her down as

she emerged from a girl's bathroom on the floor below. She was

accompanied by Luna Lovegood, who was patting her vaguely on the

back.

"Oh, hello, Harry," said Luna. "Did you know one of your eyebrows is

bright yellow?"

"So he managed to do it during the first class?" asked Lily.

Hermione nodded, "Harry was very dedicated to his schoolwork throughout

this time. I will admit to being rather proud of him, he did improve so

much."

"Well it wasn't like he had anyone to distract him at the time though,"

pointed out James.

"Hi, Luna. Hermione, you left your stuff…"

He held out her books.

"Oh, yes," said Hermione in a choked voice, taking her things and

turning away quickly to hide the fact she was wiping her eyes with her

pencil case. "Thank you, Harry. Well, I'd better get going…"

And she hurried off, without ever giving Harry any time to offer words

of comfort, though admittedly he could not think of any.

"She's a bit upset," said Luna. "I thought at first it was Moaning

Myrtle in there, but it turned out to be Hermione. She said something

about Ron Weasley…"

"Yeah, they've had a row," said Harry.

"He says funny things sometimes, doesn't he?" said Luna as they set off

down the corridor together. "But he can be a bit unkind. I noticed that

last year."

"I do like how adorably blunt that girl is," said Alice, "if only more people

were like that."

"I s'pose," said Harry. Luna was demonstrating her usual knack of

speaking uncomfortable truths; he had never met anyone quite like her.

"So have you had a good term?"

"Oh, it's been all right," said Luna. "A bit lonely without the D.A.

Ginny's been nice, though. She stopped two boys in our

Transfiguration class calling me 'Loony' the other day —"

"How would you like to come to Slughorn's party with me tonight?"

"Aww," said Lily, "that is so nice of him, I am sure she would love to go."

The words were out of Harry's mouth before he could stop them; he

heard himself say them as though it were a stranger speaking. Luna

turned her protuberant eyes to him in surprise.

"Slughorn's party? With you?"

"Yeah," said Harry, "We're supposed to bring guests, so I thought you

might like… I mean…" He was keen to make his intentions perfectly

clear. "I mean, just as friends, you know. But if you don't want to…"

He was already half hoping that she didn't want to.

"Oh no, I'd love to go with you as friends!" said Luna, beaming as he

had never seen her beam before.

"For someone who didn't have all that many friends, Luna was thrilled to be

invited," said Hermione, "it meant the world to her."

"Nobody's ever asked me to a party before, as a friend! Is that why you

dyed your eyebrow, for the party? Should I dye mine too?"

"No" said Harry firmly, "That was a mistake. I'll get Hermione to put

it right for me. So I'll meet you in the entrance hall at eight o'clock

then."

"AHA!" screamed a voice from overhead and both of them jumped;

unnoticed by either of them, they had just passed underneath Peeves,

who was hanging upside down from a chandelier and grinning

maliciously at them.

"Potty asked Loony to go to the party! Potty lurves Loony! Potty

luuuuuurves Looooony!"

And he zoomed away cackling and shrieking, "Potty loves Loony!"

"I would rather go with Luna than a sycophantic brainless twit who is more

enamoured with Harry's fame and bank balance than him," said Sirius, "he

could do worse."

"High praise for someone who believes the worst of every female he

meets," commented Lily dryly.

"Nice to keep these things private," said Harry. And sure enough, in no

time at all the whole school seemed to know that Harry Potter was

taking Luna Lovegood to Slughorn's party.

"You could've taken anyone!" said Ron in disbelief over dinner.

"Anyone! And you chose Loony Lovegood?"

"Don't call her that, Ron!" snapped Ginny, pausing behind Harry on

her way to join friends. "I'm really glad you're taking her Harry, she's

so excited."

And she moved on down the table to sit with Dean. Harry tried to feel

pleased that Ginny was glad he was taking Luna to the party but could

not quite manage it. A long way along the table Hermione was sitting

alone, playing with her stew. Harry noticed Ron looking at her

furtively.

"You could say sorry," suggested Harry bluntly.

"What, and get attacked by another flock of canaries?" muttered Ron.

"I wouldn't have attacked him for apologising," protested Hermione.

"What about for mimicking you?" asked Regulus.

"Well I wouldn't use canaries again anyway," said Hermione, avoiding the

fact that the younger Black had a point.

"What did you have to imitate her for?"

"She laughed at my moustache!"

"So did I, it was the stupidest thing I've ever seen."

But Ron did not seem to have heard; Lavender had just arrived with

Parvati. Squeezing herself in between Harry and Ron, Lavender flung

her arms around Ron's neck.

"Hi, Harry," said Parvati who, like Harry, looked faintly embarrassed

and bored by the behaviour of their two friends.

"Pav was actually fairly nice throughout the whole thing, I think she was

sick of hearing Lavander extol the virtues of her 'won-won'."

"Won-Won?" asked Regulus, "makes him sound like a lolly, Won-won, bon-

bon, not such a huge difference."

"Hi," said Harry, "How're you? You're staying at Hogwarts, then? I

heard your parents wanted you to leave."

"I managed to talk them out of it for the time being," said Parvati.

"That Katie thing really freaked them out, but as there hasn't been

anything since… Oh, hi, Hermione!"

Parvati positively beamed. Harry could tell that she was feeling guilty

for having laughed at Hermione in Transfiguration. He looked around

and saw that Hermione was beaming back, if possible even more

brightly. Girls were very strange sometimes.

"Hi, Parvati!" said Hermione, ignoring Ron and Lavender completely.

"Are you going to Slughorn's party tonight?"

"No invite," said Parvati gloomily. "I'd love to go, though, it sounds like

it's going to be really good… You're going, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'm meeting Cormac at eight, and we're —"

"WHAT!"

"I was rather pissed after the whole imitation thing," admitted Hermione,

"not my proudest moment to be sure, probably make the top ten list of the

most stupid things I have ever done, so I needed to do something for

revenge and that was the first thing I thought of."

"You know that makes you no better than Ron, who you are doing the same

thing as," pointed out Sirius, "you are both using people to manipulate each

other's emotions."

"How do you know that Ron and Lavender aren't the romance of the

century?" said Hermione, although privately acknowledging Sirius' point.

There was a noise like a plunger being withdrawn from a blocked sink,

and Ron surfaced. Hermione acted as though she had not seen or heard

anything.

"— we're going up to the party together."

"Cormac?" said Parvati. "Cormac McLaggen, you mean?"

"That's right," said Hermione sweetly. "The one who almost" - she put

a great deal of emphasis on the word — "became Gryffindor Keeper."

"Are you going out with him, then?" asked Parvati, wide-eyed.

"Oh - yes - didn't you know?" said Hermione, with a most un-

Hermione-ish giggle.

"No!" said Parvati, looking positively agog at this piece of gossip.

"Wow, you like your Quidditch players, don't you? First Krum, then

McLaggen."

"I like really good Quidditch players," Hermione corrected her, still

smiling. "Well, see you… Got to go and get ready for the party…"

"That was laying it on a bit thick don't you think," commented Lily.

Hermione shrugged, "like I said, I am not proud of it, but in my defence I

don't always think all that clearly when I am angry and I was spewing mad

after transfiguration that day. Also having to follow through on my revenge

and go with Cormac was punishment enough for it."

She left. At once Lavender and Parvati put their heads together to

discuss this new development, with everything they had ever heard

about McLaggen, and all they had ever guessed about Hermione. Ron

looked strangely blank and said nothing. Harry was left to ponder in

silence the depths to which girls would sink to get revenge.

"Ah the psyche of a female species," sighed James, "my son is ambitious,

trying to do what no man has ever done before."

"Oh, I don't know Potter," drawled Alice, "I think you know enough about

women to realise that you are on the verge of being hexed within an inch of

your life... though I am sure one of us will be kind enough to leave the

measly few inches to ensure Harry's future existence."

"Oi!" said James, after a moment when he realised that Alice had just made

a dig against his... masculinity.

Sirius couldn't suppress a snort at that. Severus was having similar

problems, truce or not, watching someone decimate James Potter would

always be one of his favourite past-times, even better than doing it himself

because he wouldn't be blamed or in the line of fire. Apparently letting

Alice Smith talk again was good for something.

When he arrived in the entrance hall at eight o'clock that night, he

found an unusually large number of girls lurking there, all of whom

seemed to be staring at him resentfully as he approached Luna. She

was wearing a set of spangled silver robes that were attracting a certain

amount of giggles from the onlookers, but otherwise she looked quite

nice. Harry was glad, in any case, that she had left off her radish

earrings, her butterbeer cork necklace, and her Spectrespecs.

"Hi," he said. "Shall we get going then?"

"Oh yes," she said happily. "Where is the party?"

"Slughorn's office," said Harry, leading her up the marble staircase

away from all the staring and muttering. "Did you hear, there's

supposed to be a vampire coming?"

"Rufus Scrimgeour?" asked Luna.

"I didn't realise he was a vampire," commented Minerva dryly, she would

have to remember to tell Alastor about that, she was sure he would

appreciate the rumour's entertainment value

"I - what?" said Harry, disconcerted. "You mean the Minister of

Magic?"

"Yes, he's a vampire," said Luna matter-of-factly. "Father wrote a very

long article about it when Scrimgeour first took over from Cornelius

Fudge, but he was forced not to publish by somebody from the

Ministry. Obviously, they didn't want the truth to get out!"

"Or else he didn't want a political incident made out of it, resulting with

having to renegotiate peace treaties, while fighting Riddle at the same

time," commented Frank, interrupting himself, "after all Vampires have

designated hierarchies and are very territorial, I doubt they would take

kindly to the insinuation which could result in some serious repercussions

for the ministry, which they don't need given the political climate of the

time."

Harry, who thought it most unlikely that Rufus Scrimgeour was a

vampire, but who was used to Luna repeating her father's bizarre

views as though they were fact, did not reply; they were already

approaching Slughorn's office and the sounds of laughter, music, and

loud conversation were growing louder with every step they took.

Whether it had been built that way, or because he had used magical

trickery to make it so, Slughorn's office was much larger than the usual

teacher's study. The ceiling and walls had been draped with emerald,

crimson, and gold hangings, so that it looked as though they were all

inside a vast tent. The room was crowded and stuffy and bathed in the

red light cast by an ornate golden lamp dangling from the centre of the

ceiling in which real fairies were fluttering, each a brilliant speck of

light. Loud singing accompanied by what sounded like mandolins

issued from a distant corner; a haze of pipe smoke hung over several

elderly warlocks deep in conversation, and a number of house-elves

were negotiating their way squeakily through the forest of knees,

obscured by the heavy silver platters of food they were bearing, so that

they looked like little roving tables.

"Harry, m'boy!" boomed Slughorn, almost as soon as Harry and Luna

had squeezed in through the door. "Come in, come in, so many people

I'd like you to meet!"

"Or who would like to meet him?" queried Sirius dryly.

Slughorn was wearing a tasselled velvet hat to match his smoking

jacket. Gripping Harry's arm so tightly he might have been hoping to

Disapparate with him, Slughorn led him purposefully into the party;

Harry seized Luna's hand and dragged her along with him.

"Harry, I'd like you to meet Eldred Worple, an old student of mine,

author of Blood Brothers: My Life Amongst the Vampires — and, of

course, his friend Sanguini."

Worple, who was a small, stout, bespectacled man, grabbed Harry's

hand and shook it enthusiastically; the vampire Sanguini, who was tall

and emaciated with dark shadows under his eyes, merely nodded. He

looked rather bored. A gaggle of girls was standing close to him,

looking curious and excited.

"I wonder what cut of the profits Sluggy would get if he scored Worple a

deal with Harry?" wondered Sirius, pointedly, guessing what the ploy

would most likely be.

"Harry Potter, I am simply delighted!" said Worple, peering short-

sightedly up into Harry's face. "I was saying to Professor Slughorn

only the other day, 'Where is the biography of Harry Potter for which

we have all been waiting?'"

"Er," said Harry, "were you?"

"Just as modest as Horace described!" said Worple. "But seriously"—

his manner changed; it became suddenly businesslike — "I would be

delighted to write it myself — people are craving to know more about

you, dear boy, craving! If you were prepared to grant me a few

interviews, say in four- or five-hour sessions, why, we could have the

book finished within months. And all with very little effort on your

part,

"And undoubtedly some creative licence on his," remarked Severus.

I assure you — ask Sanguini here if it isn't quite — Sanguini, stay

here!" added Worple, suddenly stern, for the vampire had been edging

toward the nearby group of girls, a rather hungry look in his eye.

"Really, should he have brought a vampire into a school, it isn't really all

that safe," commented Minerva.

"Here, have a pasty," said Worple, seizing one from a passing elf and

stuffing it into Sanguini's hand before turning his attention back to

Harry.

"My dear boy, the gold you could make, you have no idea —"

"I'm definitely not interested," said Harry firmly, "and I've just seen a

friend of mine, sorry." He pulled Luna after him into the crowd; he

had indeed just seen a long mane of brown hair disappear between

what looked like two members of the Weird Sisters.

"Running off to snog Cormac McLaggen, are we?" teased Lily.

Hermione snorted, that couldn't be further from the truth.

"Hermione! Hermione!"

"Harry! There you are, thank goodness! Hi, Luna!"

"What's happened to you?" asked Harry, for Hermione looked

distinctly dishevelled, rather as though she had just fought her way out

of a thicket of Devil's Snare.

"I think I would rather face a devils snare again than go out with Cormac

McLaggen," said Hermione.

"When did you face a devils snare?" asked Alice, it sounded familiar, but

she couldn't place it.

"In my first year, it was one of the protections guarding the stone,"

reminded Hermione, "I am sure I told you about it though."

"You did," said Frank thinking back, "however we have learnt so much

since then that some of the earlier details seem to get blurred and it hard to

remember everything, even though it has only been about four days."

Lily figured that would probably explain why no one had picked up on

Severus' nickname yet, despite Hermione mentioning it at the start, given

everything else they learnt it was probably the last thing on their mind. She

quietly pondered about how many people would hex themselves once it was

destined to be revealed, it would be amusing for sure.

"Oh, I've just escaped — I mean, I've just left Cormac," she said.

"Under the mistletoe," she added in explanation, as Harry continued to

look questioningly at her.

"Serves you right for coming with him," he told her severely.

"I thought he'd annoy Ron most," said Hermione dispassionately. "I

debated for a while about Zacharias Smith, but I thought, on the whole

—"

"You considered Smith?" said Harry, revoked.

"I'm not that bad!" said Alice.

Remus shot her a look which said 'really?'

"I know Ali," said Frank, "even if other less gentlemanly boys can't see it.

However there is no denying it, your relation Zacharias is an absolute twat."

"Yes, I did, and I'm starting to wish I'd chosen him, McLaggen makes

Grawp look a gentleman. Let's go this way, we'll be able to see him

coming, he's so tall…" The three of them made their way over to the

other side of the room, scooping up goblets of mead on the way,

realizing too late that Professor Trelawney was standing there alone.

"I like Trelawney," Luna said.

"She probably has the right temperament to get along well with her,"

commented Lily.

"Hello," said Luna politely to Professor Trelawney.

"Good evening, my dear," said Professor Trelawney, focusing upon

Luna with some difficulty. Harry could smell cooking sherry again. "I

haven't seen you in my classes lately…"

"No, I've got Firenze this year," said Luna.

"Oh, of course," said Professor Trelawney with an angry, drunken

titter. "Or Dobbin, as I prefer to think of him. You would have thought,

would you not, that now I am returned to the school Professor

Dumbledore might have got rid of the horse? But no… we share

classes… It's an insult, frankly, an insult. Do you know…"

"Alas, I don't think Firenze would be allowed back into the forest, so he

would be welcomed at Hogwarts for as long as he wishes to stay," said

Albus.

Professor Trelawney seemed too tipsy to have recognized Harry. Under

cover of her furious criticisms of Firenze, Harry drew closer to

Hermione and said, "Let's get something straight. Are you planning to

tell Ron that you interfered at Keeper tryouts?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Do you really think I'd stoop that

low?"

Harry looked at her shrewdly. "Hermione, if you can ask out

McLaggen —"

"He has a point," said Regulus.

"I know, I just didn't feel like telling him that," said Hermione with a shrug,

she really could not believe how immature and petty she was being that

year.

"There's a difference," said Hermione with dignity. "I've got no plans

to tell Ron anything about what might, or might not, have happened at

Keeper tryouts."

"Good," said Harry fervently. "Because he'll just fall apart again, and

we'll lose the next match —"

"Quidditch!" said Hermione angrily. "Is that all boys care about?

Cormac hasn't asked me one single question about myself, no, I've just

been treated to 'A Hundred Great Saves Made by Cormac McLaggen'

nonstop ever since — oh no, here he comes!" She moved so fast it was

as though she had Disapparated; one moment she was there, the next,

she had squeezed between two guffawing witches and vanished.

"Seen Hermione?" asked McLaggen, forcing his way through the

throng a minute later.

"No, sorry," said Harry, and he turned quickly to join in Luna's

conversation, forgetting for a split second to whom she was talking.

"Harry Potter!" said Professor Trelawney in deep, vibrant tones,

noticing him for the first time.

"Oh, hello," said Harry unenthusiastically.

"My dear boy!" she said in a very carrying whisper. "The rumours!

The stories! 'The Chosen One'! Of course, I have known for a very long

time… The omens were never good, Harry… But why have you not

returned to Divination? For you, of all people, the subject is of the

utmost importance!"

"Wouldn't Firenze be teaching it anyway," pointed out James.

"Ah, Sybill, we all think our subject's most important!" said a loud

voice, and Slughorn appeared at Professor Trelawney s other side, his

face very red, his velvet hat a little askew, a glass of mead in one hand

and an enormous mince pie in the other. "But I don't think I've ever

known such a natural at Potions!" said Slughorn, regarding Harry

with a fond, if bloodshot, eye. "Instinctive, you know — like his

mother! I've only ever taught a few with this kind of ability, I can tell

you that, Sybill — why even Severus —"

And to Harry's horror, Slughorn threw out an arm and seemed to

scoop Snape out of thin air toward them.

"Stop skulking and come and join us, Severus!" hiccuped Slughorn

happily. "I was just talking about Harry's exceptional potion-making!

Some credit must go to you, of course, you taught him for five years!"

Hermione couldn't resist bursting out into laughter at that point, from an

outsiders perspective, whose worldview had matured beyond earning points

in class, the irony of Harry using Snape's book to master potions, which

Snape couldn't teach him was terrific. If only she saw the humour in it the

first time around, life would have been so much easier.

Trapped, with Slughorns arm around his shoulders, Snape looked

down his hooked nose at Harry, his black eyes narrowed.

"Funny, I never had the impression that I managed to teach Potter

anything at all."

Hermione snorted, as did a few others.

"Apparently you were mistaken," said Hermione, her voice brimming with

mirth.

"Well, then, it's natural ability!" shouted Slughorn. "You should have

seen what he gave me, first lesson, Draught of Living Death — never

had a student produce finer on a first attempt, I don't think even you,

Severus —"

"Considering we were doing it after class in third year there is no wonder,"

said Lily.

"Really?" said Snape quietly, his eyes still boring into Harry, who felt a

certain disquiet. The last thing he wanted was for Snape to start

investigating the source of his newfound brilliance at Potions.

"Remind me what other subjects you're taking, Harry?" asked

Slughorn.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Transfiguration,

Herbology…"

"All the subjects required, in short, for an Auror," said Snape with the

faintest sneer.

"Yeah, well, that's what I'd like to do," said Harry defiantly.

"And a great one you'll make too!" boomed Slughorn.

"I don't think you should be an Auror, Harry," said Luna unexpectedly.

Everybody looked at her. "The Aurors are part of the Rotfang

Conspiracy, I thought everyone knew that. They're planning to bring

down the Ministry of Magic from within using a combination of Dark

Magic and gum disease."

The room erupted in laughter. James praised whatever deities existed for

including Luna Lovegood in his son's life, it made reading these books so

much more fun.

Minerva mentally noted to tell Alastor that particular conspiracy as well,

Merlin knows that man needed to laugh a bit more.

Harry inhaled half his mead up his nose as he started to laugh. Really,

it had been worth bringing Luna just for this. Emerging from his

goblet, coughing, sopping wet but still grinning, he saw something

calculated to raise his spirits even higher: Draco Malfoy being dragged

by the ear toward them by Argus Filch.

"Always fun to watch when it isn't you," said James, "Filch is quite talented

at pulling ears, he has it down to a particularly painful art form."

"Professor Slughorn," wheezed Filch, his jowls aquiver and the

maniacal light of mischief-detection in his bulging eyes, "I discovered

this boy lurking in an upstairs corridor. He claims to have been invited

to your party and to have been delayed in setting out. Did you issue him

with an invitation?"

Malfoy pulled himself free of Filch's grip, looking furious. "All right, I

wasn't invited!" he said angrily. "I was trying to gate crash, happy?"

"Why would he want to be there though?" asked James, "after all being a

Malfoy he isn't in the position where he would benefit from Slughorn's

influence. Sounds more like an excuse for being caught wandering around

after hours."

"No, I'm not!" said Filch, a statement at complete odds with the glee on

his face. "You're in trouble, you are! Didn't the headmaster say that

night-time prowling's out, unless you've got permission, didn't he, eh?"

"That's all right, Argus, that's all right," said Slughorn, waving a

hand. "It's Christmas, and it's not a crime to want to come to a party.

Just this once, we'll forget any punishment; you may stay, Draco.

Filich's expression of outraged disappointment was perfectly

predictable; but why, Harry wondered, watching him, did Malfoy look

almost equally unhappy?

"That is easy," said Sirius, "instead of doing whatever it is he needed to

sneak out and do, he will now be forced to attend a party with a sycophantic

walrus."

"Kindly remember Horace Slughorn is a Professor, Sirius," warned

Minerva, although she didn't particularly disagree with the sentiment

expressed.

"I thought we weren't being punished for our actions within the room...

Minnie," said Sirius with a huge grin, which annoyed the deputy

headmistress to no end.

And why was Snape looking at Malfoy as though both angry and… was

it possible?… a little afraid?

"Curious."

But almost before Harry had registered what he had seen, Filch had

turned and shuffled away, muttering under his breath; Malfoy had

composed his face into a smile and was thanking Slughorn for his

generosity, and Snape's face was smoothly inscrutable again.

"It's nothing, nothing," said Slughorn, waving away Malfoy's thanks.

"I did know your grandfather, after all…"

"He always spoke very highly of you, sir," said Malfoy quickly. "Said

you were the best potion-maker he'd ever known…"

Harry stared at Malfoy. It was not the sucking-up that intrigued him;

he had watched Malfoy do that to Snape for a long time. It was the fact

that Malfoy did, after all, look a little ill. This was the first time he had

seen Malfoy close up for ages; he now saw that Malfoy had dark

shadows under his eyes and a distinctly greyish tinge to his skin.

"Seems mission impossible is living up to its name," observed Lily.

"I'd like a word with you, Draco," said Snape suddenly.

"Now, Severus," said Slughorn, hiccuping again, "it's Christmas, don't

be too hard —"

"I am his Head of House, and I shall decide how hard, or otherwise, to

be," said Snape curtly. "Follow me, Draco."

They left, Snape leading the way, Malfoy looking resentful. Harry stood

there for a moment, irresolute, then said, "I'll be back in a bit, Luna —

er — bathroom."

"Please don't tell me he is going to do what I think he is," said Lily, shaking

her head in dismay.

"Put it this way Lily, we know you, if he didn't take the chance you would

be lamenting the fact we aren't going to find out what is going on, your

curiosity is one of your most defining traits."

"All right," she said cheerfully, and he thought he heard her, as he

hurried off into the crowd, resume the subject of the Rotfang

Conspiracy with Professor Trelawney, who seemed sincerely interested.

"Of course she would."

It was easy, once out of the party, to pull his Invisibility Cloak out of his

pocket and throw it over himself, for the corridor was quite deserted.

What was more difficult was finding Snape and Malfoy. Harry ran

down the corridor, the noise of his feet masked by the music and loud

talk still issuing from Slughorn's office behind him. Perhaps Snape had

taken Malfoy to his office in the dungeons… or perhaps he was

escorting him back to the Slytherin common room… Harry pressed his

ear against door after door as he dashed down the corridor until, with

a great jolt of excitement, he crouched down to the keyhole of the last

classroom in the corridor and heard voices.

"… cannot afford mistakes, Draco, because if you are expelled —"

"I didn't have anything to do with it, all right?"

"I hope you are telling the truth, because it was both clumsy and

foolish. Already you are suspected of having a hand in it."

"What are you talking about?" Lily asked Severus.

"I do not know at this point in time, however if I could hazard a guess I

would say Katie," said Severus.

"Who suspects me?" said Malfoy angrily. "For the last time, I didn't do

it, okay? That Bell girl must've had an enemy no one knows about —

don't look at me like that! I know what you're doing, I'm not stupid,

but it won't work — I can stop you!"

There was a pause and then Snape said quietly, "Ah… Aunt Bellatrix

has been teaching you Occlumency, I see. What thoughts are you trying

to conceal from your master, Draco?"

"Really," said Regulus, "an interesting twist, it seems Dad and Uncle

Ciggy's decision to teach her those skills is coming back to bite us in the

arse."

"Language, Mr Black," scolded Minerva, trying to create some semblance

of order within the room.

"I'm not trying to conceal anything from him, I just don't want you

butting in!" Harry pressed his ear still more closely against the

keyhole…

"Butting into what?" asked James suspiciously, "not doubt it is whatever

task Snape will happily be completing for Draco in order to be honoured

above all others."

"That isn't really the most appealing prize, the Dark Lord is not someone

you want to be close to," said Regulus with a slight shiver of disgust.

What had happened to make Malfoy speak to Snape like this — Snape,

toward whom he had always shown respect, even liking?

"In public," pointed out Minerva, "what goes on behind closed doors could

be something else entirely. After all given Mr Snape's misadventures here at

Hogwarts, I doubt he favours public discipline, which could humiliate his

charges." A stern look was levelled at the three present marauders, who

swallowed nervously.

"So that is why you have been avoiding me this term? You have feared

my interference? You realize that, had anybody else failed to come to

my office when I had told them repeatedly to be there, Draco —"

"So put me in detention! Report me to Dumbledore!" jeered Malfoy.

There was another pause. Then Snape said, "You know perfectly well

that I do not wish to do either of those things."

"You'd better stop telling me to come to your office then!"

"Listen to me," said Snape, his voice so low now that Harry had to push

his ear very hard against the keyhole to hear. "I am trying to help you.

I swore to your mother I would protect you. I made the Unbreakable

Vow, Draco —"

"Looks like you'll have to break it, then, because I don't need your

protection! It's my job, he gave it to me and I'm doing it, I've got a plan

and it's going to work, it's just taking a bit longer than I thought it

would!"

"I would rather give him my help," said Severus, "I don't think I lived

through spying on the Dark Lord to be killed by the pride of a 16 year old

boy."

"What is your plan?"

"It's none of your business!"

"If you tell me what you are trying to do, I can assist you…"

"I have all the assistance I need, thanks, I'm not alone!"

"You were certainly alone tonight, which was foolish in the extreme,

wandering the corridors without lookouts or backup, these are

elementary mistakes —"

"I would've had Crabbe and Goyle with me if you hadn't put them in

detention!"

Hermione was impressed, apparently future Severus did know how to

discipline his own house.

"Keep your voice down!" spat Snape, for Malfoy's voice had risen

excitedly. "If your friends Crabbe and Goyle intend to pass their

Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L this time around, they will need

to work a little harder than they are doing at pres —"

"What does it matter?" said Malfoy. "Defense Against the Dark Arts

— its all just a joke, isn't it, an act? Like any of us need protecting

against the Dark Arts —"

"Defence also teaches some rather valuable knowledge about the world we

live in and how to generally defend yourself in the magical world and is

imperative that everyone should take it seriously, no matter which side of

the fence they find themselves on," said Albus seriously.

"It is an act that is crucial to success, Draco!" said Snape. "Where do

you think I would have been all these years, if I had not known how to

act? Now listen to me! You are being incautious, wandering around at

night, getting yourself caught, and if you are placing your reliance in

assistants like Crabbe and Goyle —"

"They're not the only ones, I've got other people on my side, better

people!"

"Then why not confide in me, and I can —"

"They aren't at Hogwarts though," pointed out James, "and I doubt they

would be able to get in."

Hermione thought that was a case of famous last words.

"I know what you're up to! You want to steal my glory!"

"What glory?" sneered James, "I didn't think there was glory in murdering

people and destroying families or living on your knee trying to appease a

sadistic and psychotic dictator."

There was another pause, then Snape said coldly, "You are speaking

like a child. I quite understand that your fathers capture and

imprisonment has upset you, but —"

Harry had barely a second's warning; he heard Malfoy's footsteps on

the other side of the door and flung himself out of the way just as it

burst open. Malfoy was striding away down the corridor, past the open

door of Slughorns office, around the distant corner, and out of sight.

Hardly daring to breathe, Harry remained crouched down as Snape

emerged slowly from the classroom. His expression unfathomable, he

returned to the party. Harry remained on the floor, hidden beneath the

cloak, his mind racing.

"That is the end of the chapter," said Frank, marking the page.

"I believe that it is time to turn in if that is the case," said Minerva, "it has

been a long day, beginning with learning about a prophecy this morning and

everything else since then, I believe we all deserve an early night. And

since no one in this room, or one of Harry's friends have died, I see no

reason for any of you to be drinking firewhiskey tonight."

"How did you know about that?" asked Remus, looking shocked that their

antics from the other night were exposed.

"I believe, Mr Lupin, that you have neglected to realise that your teachers

were once such students as well," said Albus, looking decidedly amused, "I

can tell you many stories about Minerva's tenure at Hogwarts, however I

doubt she would appreciate me undermining her authority, so I will leave it

to your imagination instead."

Minerva gifted her colleague with a death stare.

"It seems I was not meant to bring that up," said Albus still amused,

"however my colleague's instruction still stands, even though the majority

of you are of age, you are still at school and while we are happy to bend the

rules at time, we will not do so every night, so please restrain yourself for

the time being."

"Given the general trend of the books I doubt we will have to wait long for

an excuse to break out the fire-whiskey anyway," commented Severus.

"Hopefully it will be to toast the death of my cousin the murderer if that is

the case," said Sirius, "because if we are going to drink in honour of

someone, we should also be given the chance to drink in celebration."

"That is a moot point at the moment Sirius," said Lily, "don't worry

Professors, we will be fine for tonight."

"I'll keep them in line," said James with a smirk.

"That is what I am afraid of," muttered Minerva, "oh well, it is time for us

to attend to our own patrols and duties, I trust that you will take this

opportunity to have a good night's rest while you can."

"We will," assured Lily.

"Eventually," added Alice in an undertone. Once the Professors left, the

room split off as people began to do their own thing, as they pondered what

was going to happen in the books.

At the start, Hermione went and joined Alice for some girl talk and which

involved general grilling about Neville and his love life (Alice figured if

she couldn't be the nosy and inappropriate parent, which she was sure she

was going to be, in the future, she may as well take the chance now.) A

conversation which Frank listened into at the start but quickly got bored

with, he had no desire to interfere with his son's life that much and while

listening proved to be an interesting foray into the psyche of a female he

would rather maintain what little sanity he had left after dating Alice for

over a year and move on, talking to the marauders seemed a blessing after

hearing the blow by blows about how Neville ended up asking Hermione

out for the Yule ball back in fourth year.

"Sanity at last," he said as he joined the marauders.

"What happened to your other, crazy half?" asked James.

"Girl talk."

"Ahh," said James, "you have my sympathy, although admittedly, I don't

know much about the phenomenon, other than I want to avoid it, but I think

Mie could do with a bit of something to help loosen her up, and since she

doesn't seem the type to indulge in the most common method of stress relief

for someone her age, a bit of girl talk could probably do her some good."

"You are so lucky, she isn't around to hear you say that," pointed out

Remus, "she would kill you for implying that she needs to get laid, and Lily

would probably help."

"Which is why I am not letting them hear me," said James with a grin.

"Be careful Prongs," cautioned Sirius with a grin, "you are sitting with three

people who would not hesitate to sell you out at the opportune moment,

when we are looking forward to some comic relief, hopefully we might see

some more of her rather impressive spell repertoire."

James snorted and threatened to do something rather rude if they even

dared, which led to a change in topic and a rather amusing discussion for all

involved.

Across the room, Lily and Severus were sitting on the couch discussing

spell work and their past creations.

"I am surprised one of the idiots hasn't remembered that I am the half-blood

prince yet," said Severus, "and you were the one trying to convince me that

they have two brain cells to rub together."

"I think they are just distracted it has been a pretty intense week, do you

remember every bit of evidence that was given earlier this week?"

challenged Lily.

"What if I said yes," challenged Severus in return.

"I would say you were a show off," replied Lily, knowing full well that

Severus was avoiding the fact she had a point, if he could remember then he

would be rubbing it in her face rather than avoiding having to give a

definitive answer.

"I'll give you show off," growled Severus, reaching for his wand, Lily

mirrored the action and soon the two were having a duel. Their favourite

form of stress relief when growing up, after all siphoning off you frustration

on someone who won't get mad at you for hexing them was always valuable

to both their temperaments, especially given the alarming content of the

books and the fact they couldn't do anything to help yet, which was

something Severus knew never ceased to drive Lily crazy. She was not

someone who would sit on the sideline and wait while there were injustices

in the world to fix.

Regulus was left on his own, so he decided to capitalise on the rare chance

and went into the recently acquired adjacent room, which suddenly

replicated a large oval, and went for a run. He figured it would take awhile

for people to exhaust all topics of conversation so he might even manage an

earlier shower before everyone else made a stampede.

Finally after a good thirty minutes the various groups in the room split off

again and reformed, which resulted in Hermione approaching Severus.

"What happened to everyone else?" asked Severus, who had needed a few

minutes to recover after the duel with Lily, during which the red-head had

flounced off somewhere, along with the rest of the room it seemed, as only

he and Hermione were left in the sitting room.

"Frank and Alice needed some 'couple time', so did Lily and James," said

Hermione counting them off on her fingers, "Remus and Sirius have paired

off and are doing Merlin knows what, however I doubt it is the same as the

other four, I know Remus doesn't swing that way and it would be a loss for

womankind if Sirius did too."

Severus looked rather ill, "I did not need that mental image" he complain, "I

feel like I need to scourfigy my brain now."

"Oh suck it up," said Hermione unrepentantly, it was rather amusing seeing

the taciturn Slytherin, who was going to be her Professor look so disturbed,

"who is missing? Oh right Regulus, well I think he is still exercising in the

other room, he went in there awhile back and hasn't come out yet."

"Of course," said Severus, "from what I know, Regulus Black likes to

exercise and he tends to go running every day, and forces his team to do the

same. While I would admit that it benefits the quidditch team immensely, as

they are all proven to be dedicated and are fit and disciplined, however on

the other hand I don't think I have ever heard of a person who half the house

wants to murder more, the team generally hates it, as do their friends and

girlfriends or boyfriends. Although most of them aren't too serious, as we

do have one of the best teams around thanks to him."

"Complimenting me, Sevvy?" asked Regulus, emerging from his room,

wiping the sweat away from his face with a towel provided by the room.

"Can it you syphilitic newt's brain," grouched Severus.

"No thanks," said Regulus cheerfully as he continued past, giving Hermione

a glance as he walked past. Hermione took the chance to admire the rather

impressive physique of the youngest Black. Perhaps there was a reason she

was so attracted to quidditch players, exercise proved to be rather

beneficial.

Severus rolled his eyes and snorted quietly, which brought Hermione back

to reality.

"Oh, right," said Hermione, "so umm, tell me about some of your creations,

they truly are remarkable."

"So you approve of me now?" asked Severus pointedly.

Hermione merely stared at him.

"What can I say, I love magic and have too much time over the summer and

when I am at school," said Severus, purposely keeping his magic tricks to

himself.

"Did Lily help?" asked Hermione, she had a suspicion that she did.

Severus nodded, "we each had a copy of the book, and used it as our base to

alter potions and spells. Altering potions was something we did over the

holidays, when we couldn't technically use out wands, but we both still

wanted to keep in touch with the magical world and each other and this was

something we both were passionate about."

Hermione nodded, she had begun to suspect as much. She had another

question, she doubted she would get an answer, but thought she might as

well ask while she had the chance.

"Are you in love with Lily?" she asked. As she predicted Severus closed up

and begun to stand up and walk away, Hermione quickly grabbed his arm

before he stormed off, "wait, you don't have to verbalise your answer, your

body language was enough, but before you stalk off as I am sure you will,

let me say something. I do think Lily and James are perfect for each other,

they do suit each other rather well and they seem to truly love each other

and I know that Lily is head over heels for James, despite his many flaws.

While I am not trying to trivialise any feelings you must have for her, I just

think you should re-evaluate how you feel. After all, take it from someone

who knows, it is easy to become in love with the idea of someone rather

than the person themselves. Given your history and early friendship you

might be in the same situation as I was with Ronald, more in love with the

fantasy of your childhood friend, rather than accepting reality."

"How dare you!" scowled Severus, glaring at Hermione.

Having found his future self much more intimidating Hermione was not

completely cowed, "I know it wasn't me place..."

"No kidding," growled Severus.

"...but please just think about it."

Hermione watched as Snape stormed off, she was actually expecting a more

volatile reaction, she dearly hoped that he did think about it, because she

knew who he grew up to be and she didn't want to see the mostly nice, if

rather sarcastic and snarky, boy in the room grow up to become the bitter

man of his future. With a sigh Hermione stood up and headed for the

bathroom. It was time to turn in and see if she could manage a few hours of

sleep, after all if they finished the book, tomorrow was going to be a very

trying day.

AN: Thanks for reading, please review! Cheers!

16. Chapter 16

A Very Frosty Christmas

AN: Here is another chapter, I am getting them out as quickly as I can, I am

rather busy with study at the moment, but I am managing. A big thanks to

those who have reviewed the story thus far, it is has been great to read your

thoughts and they have proven to be a great encouragement. As usual I

don't own anything you can recognise, all Harry Potter rights belong to JK

Rowling and Co. Please enjoy the latest update. Happy Reading! Cheers!

The morning, as usual came too quickly for everyone's liking, however

sleep was a luxury which many of the members of the room were not

indulging in enough, more than one person laid awake at night pondering

what was going to happen and the mysterious task of Draco Malfoy.

Despite the continued fascination with the future, the room made a silent

vow not to discuss the possibilities of various future outcomes in the books,

or at least not over breakfast anyway...

"Then Potter rode in on this ridiculous white horse, complete with a sword

and shield, leading an army of enchanted suits of armour into the great hall,

he then pulled a furious Lily Evans onto his 'noble steed' and galloped up

the aisle to the staff table, slid off the horse and kneeled before Lily..."

"Probably the only time his ego has allowed him to show any semblance of

humility, even if it was just for show," injected a sneering Snape, which

earned him a scowl from Alice who was enjoying her chance to recount her

tale to Hermione.

"As I was saying," said Alice, her hands extravagantly gesturing to help

articulate the story, "he kneeled before my darling best friend and said, and

I quote "oh fair maiden, as your humble rescuer, all I ask in return for

saving you from a life of misery and despair is for you to grant me a single

token of your affection and consent to allow me to spend eternity basking in

your magnificence.""

Most of the room burst into laughter, Lily included, she found the incident

more than slightly amusing now.

"You haven't gotten to the best bit yet, Smith," said Sirius with a grin.

"Of course at that point my darling best friend roused herself from her

stupor and silent anger and proceeded to verbally and magically express her

lack of appreciation for her saviour's actions, what was it that you said

again..."

"Allow me, it is one of my fondest memories" said Remus with a smirk

gracing his face, he then put on a ridiculously high pitched voice, "Why you

Janus-faced, bastard son of a toad-faced cankerblossom, if you don't pull

the broomstick out of your derriere this instant, I swear I will hex you so

hard that all the kings horses and all the kings men won't be able to put your

humpty-dumpties back together again!"

Hermione couldn't contain herself and went into conniptions of laughter at

that point, tears were leaking out of her eyes as she could picture the event

so vividly, Remus' hilarious interpretation of Lily's rather shrill voice, added

a lot of humour to the experience as well. She only wished that Harry could

be there to see it and learn about his parents in this way. However

unfortunately for everyone, Harry was still in the late 90's sinking into a

form of depression, after all having so much of his life defined by

Voldemort he was having trouble adapting to a Voldemort free world.

Although she felt guilty that he was missing out on this opportunity to meet

his parents first hand, she felt that it would be worth it. If everything went

according to the plan devised by herself and Minerva then Harry would

finally have a chance to grow up with his parents and have the chance to be

happy. Even if the plan failed and she returned home, Harry would have a

chance to see his parents and their friends for the people they truly were and

would be able to see that they were honestly and unequivocally loved him

and were proud of him and what he had achieved: he would see that it was

more than the meaningless platitudes that people say to reassure him, it

would be a tangible reality, and Hermione knew that for someone like Harry

that would be worth more than anything in the world. Alice continuing her

anecdote brought Hermione's mind back to the rather amusing subject at

hand.

"Then Lily charmed the sword and shield to fly, causing a rather amusing

scene where the errant knight was being forcefully flown through the castle,

out onto the grounds and was unceremoniously dropped into the lake."

More laughter rang throughout the room and the good humour lasted well

up until the professors came and organised the room for another day of

reading. With a grin on her face, Alice picked up the newly produced book

and opened it to the next chapter.

"Well ladles and jelly-spoons, I come before you, to stand behind you and

tell you that snowmen abound in the next chapter, which is entitled A Very

Frosty Christmas."

"Why can't you just say things normally?" asked Remus.

"Where is the fun in that? I find my way infinitely wittier," replied Alice

with a grin, before heading into the new chapter.

"So Snape was offering to help him? He was definitely offering to help

him?"

"If you ask that once more," said Harry, "I'm going to stick this sprout

—"

"I'm only checking!" said Ron. They were standing alone at the

Burrow's kitchen sink, peeling a mountain of sprouts for Mrs. Weasley.

Snow was drifting past the window in front of them.

"Pity," said James, "I was hoping to find out where the sprout's new home

was going to be."

"Yes, Snape was offering to help him!" said Harry. "He said he'd

promised Malfoy's mother to protect him, that he'd made an

Unbreakable Oath or something —"

"An Unbreakable Vow?" said Ron, looking stunned. "Nah, he can't

have… Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," said Harry. "Why, what does it mean?"

"Well, you can't break an Unbreakable Vow…"

"Really?" asked Severus sarcastically, "I never would have guessed that."

"I'd worked that much out for myself, funnily enough. What happens if

you break it, then?"

"You die," said Ron simply. "Fred and George tried to get me to make

one when I was about five.

"What?" shrieked Hermione, "I didn't know about that! How could they be

so irresponsible and ask him to do that!"

"Umm, Mie," pointed out James calmly, used to calming down hysterical

witches, an unsuspected benefit of dating Lily, "if Ron was only about 5,

then the twins were probably only seven, I doubt they would have fully

understood what they were doing either. For a seven year old the idea of an

unbreakable vow is probably considered to be the same as a pinky

promise."

"True," admitted Hermione calming down slightly, "but still, it would have

been awful if he went through with it."

"Yes," drawled Severus, "there would be one less imbecile in the world, and

one less infatuation for the lovely Hermione to involve herself with."

"Severus!" scolded Lily, looking appalled at what he said, not knowing

about the conversation between Hermione and Severus last night or the

tension it had evidently caused.

Hermione merely sent Severus a look, she understood that Severus would

probably be a bit pissed with her for awhile due to the conversation the

previous night. After years spent with Harry, she realised that arguing the

point would probably be useless and would probably just annoy Snape even

more, so she decided to let it go for the time being.

I nearly did too, I was holding hands with Fred and everything when

Dad found us. He went mental," said Ron, with a reminiscent gleam in

his eyes. "Only time I've ever seen Dad as angry as Mum, Fred reckons

his left buttock has never been the same since."

"Yeah, well, passing over Fred's left buttock —"

"I beg your pardon?" said Fred's voice as the twins entered the kitchen.

"Aaah, George, look at this. They're using knives and everything. Bless

them."

"Harry doesn't trust himself to use magic for cutting things up, he prefers to

do it by hand," offered Hermione, redirecting her mind from the

confrontation she had with Severus the previous night.

"I'll be seventeen in two and a bit months' time," said Ron grumpily,

"and then I'll be able to do it by magic!"

"But meanwhile," said George, sitting down at the kitchen table and

putting his feet up on it, "we can enjoy watching you demonstrate the

correct use of a — whoops-a-daisy!"

"You made me do that!" said Ron angrily, sucking his cut thumb. "You

wait, when I'm seventeen —"

"I'm sure you'll dazzle us all with hitherto unsuspected magical skills,"

yawned Fred.

"And speaking of hitherto unsuspected skills, Ronald," said George,

"what is this we hear from Ginny about you and a young lady called —

unless our information is faulty — Lavender Brown?"

Ron turned a little pink, but did not look displeased as he turned back

to the sprouts.

"Mind your own business."

"His retorts are so snappy he could probably pass himself off as a

crocodile," commented James.

"What a snappy retort," said Fred. "I really don't know how you think

of them. No, what we wanted to know was… how did it happen?"

"What d'you mean?"

"Did she have an accident or something?"

"What?"

"Well, how did she sustain such extensive brain damage? Careful,

now!"

"That wasn't very nice!" said Hermione.

"That is brothers for you," said Regulus, "I remember my own doing that

after a girl asked me to Hogesmeade within his earshot, almost word for

word."

"If I remember correctly though," said Frank, who was apparently also

present at the time, "it sounded much more serious and insulting than

sibling teasing, most of the room thought it was a deliberate insult and that

you were going to have a duel to the death as a result."

"While I will admit, I have nothing against thrashing by baby brother

soundly in a duel, we've never killed each other...yet." said Sirius.

"I still marvel at how well the two of you managed to hide the fact you don't

loath each other with the fire of a thousand suns," commented Lily, "from

what James told me, even he and Remus thought that."

"Why on earth would we want to stop provoking each other, it is so much

fun!" said Sirius dryly.

Mrs. Weasley entered the room just in time to see Ron throw the sprout

knife at Fred, who had turned it into a paper airplane with one lazy

flick of his wand,

"Ron!" she said furiously. "Don't you ever let me see you throwing

knives again!"

"I won't," said Ron, "let you see," he added under his breath, as he

turned back to the sprout mountain.

"Ah the typical response of a teenager," said James wistfully.

"Fred, George, I'm sorry, dears, but Remus is arriving tonight, so Bill

will have to squeeze in with you two."

"No problem," said George.

"Then, as Charlie isn't coming home, that just leaves Harry and Ron in

the attic, and if Fleur shares with Ginny —"

"— that'll make Ginny's Christmas —" muttered Fred.

"Honestly," said Hermione, "she isn't that bad, however I think Ginny was

slightly envious of her relationship with Harry and the fact she was getting

a lot more of the attention in the family."

"What does Fleur think of Ginny?" wondered Lily.

"I think she sees her as immature more than anything else, but no different

to what she is generally used to, apparently Fleur is used to girls being

rather unpleasant to her due to her veela upbringing, it probably gets a bit

old after awhile."

"— everyone should be comfortable. Well, they'll have a bed, anyway,"

said Mrs. Weasley, sounding slightly harassed.

"Percy definitely not showing his ugly face, then?" asked Fred. Mrs.

Weasley turned away before she answered.

"No, he's busy, I expect, at the Ministry."

"Or he's the world's biggest prat," said Fred, as Mrs. Weasley left the

kitchen. "One of the two. Well, let's get going, then, George."

"I have a feeling that it is more the latter than the former, although I daresay

the ministry is busy considering the political climate," commented Frank.

"What are you two up to?" asked Ron. "Can't you help us with these

sprouts? You could just use your wand and then we'll be free too!"

"No, I don't think we can do that," said Fred seriously. "It's very

character-building stuff, learning to peel sprouts without magic, makes

you appreciate how difficult it is for Muggles and Squibs —"

"— and if you want people to help you, Ron," added George, throwing

the paper airplane at him, "I wouldn't chuck knives at them. Just a

little hint. We're off to the village, there's a very pretty girl working in

the paper shop who thinks my card tricks are something marvellous…

almost like real magic…"

"Good on them," said Sirius, "I like the way they think."

"Gits," said Ron darkly, watching Fred and George setting off across

the snowy yard. "Would've only taken them ten seconds and then we

could've gone too."

"I couldn't," said Harry. "I promised Dumbledore I wouldn't wander

off while I'm staying here."

"Oh yeah," said Ron. He peeled a few more sprouts and then said, "Are

you going to tell Dumbledore what you heard Snape and Malfoy saying

to each other?"

"Yep," said Harry. "I'm going to tell anyone who can put a stop to it,

and Dumbledore's top of the list. I might have another word with your

dad too."

"Pity you didn't hear what Malfoy's actually doing, though."

"I couldn't have done, could I? That was the whole point, he was

refusing to tell Snape."

There was silence for a moment or two, then Ron said, "Course, you

know what they'll all say? Dad and Dumbledore and all of them?

They'll say Snape isn't really trying to help Malfoy, he was just trying

to find out what Malfoy's up to."

"I daresay my future self never would have predicted a day when Ron

Weasley would have defended me," remarked Severus.

"They didn't hear him," said Harry flatly. "No one's that good an actor,

not even Snape."

"Yeah… I'm just saying, though" said Ron.

Harry turned to face him, frowning. "You think I'm right, though?"

"Yeah, I do!" said Ron hastily. "Seriously, I do! But they're all

convinced Snape's in the Order, aren't they?"

Harry said nothing. It had already occurred to him that this would be

the most likely objection to his new evidence; he could hear Hermione

now: Obviously, Harry, he was pretending to offer help so he could

trick Malfoy into telling him what he's doing…

This was pure imagination, however, as he had had no opportunity to

tell Hermione what he had overheard. She had disappeared from

Slughorn's party before he returned to it, or so he had been informed

by an irate McLaggen, and she had already gone to bed by the time he

returned to the common room. As he and Ron had left for the Burrow

early the next day, he had barely had time to wish her a happy

Christmas and to tell her that he had some very important news when

they got back from the holidays. He was not entirely sure that she had

heard him, though; Ron and Lavender had been saying a thoroughly

nonverbal good-bye just behind him at the time.

"Were you staying at school?" asked Lily, "I thought you wanted to spend

time with your parents."

"I did, however my parents were away and wouldn't get back home until the

next day so I organised with the Professors to catch the knight bus from the

village after 7pm the next day, that way they would actually be home when

I arrived," said Hermione, "I am glad I did, because I didn't get to spend

much time with my parents and every little bit counted."

"Does something happen to them?" asked Lily sympathetically.

Hermione a small smile and motioned to Alice to keep reading.

Still, even Hermione would not be able to deny one thing: Malfoy was

definitely up to something, and Snape knew it, so Harry felt fully

justified in saying "I told you so," which he had done several times to

Ron already.

Harry did not get the chance to speak to Mr. Weasley, who was

working very long hours at the Ministry, until Christmas Eve night.

The Weasleys and their guests were sitting in the living room, which

Ginny had decorated so lavishly that it was rather like sitting in a

paper-chain explosion. Fred, George, Harry, and Ron were the only

ones who knew that the angel on top of the tree was actually a garden

gnome that had bitten Fred on the ankle as he pulled up carrots for

Christmas dinner. Stupefied, painted gold, stuffed into a miniature tutu

and with small wings glued to its back, it glowered down at them all,

the ugliest angel Harry had ever seen, with a large bald head like a

potato and rather hairy feet.

A few people chuckled at the image, while the three marauders exchanged

contemplative looks which generally did not bode well for mankind.

"Don't even think about it," said Minerva sternly.

They were all supposed to be listening to a Christmas broadcast by

Mrs. Weasleys favorite singer, Celestina Warbeck, whose voice was

warbling out of the large wooden wireless set. Fleur, who seemed to

find Celestina very dull, was talking so loudly in the corner that a

scowling Mrs. Weasley kept pointing her wand at the volume control,

so that Celestina grew louder and louder.

"How mature," said Severus sarcastically, "it seems we now know where

the Weasleys get their childish tendencies from."

"You mean like sticking up for you," retorted Hermione, not resisting the

chance to retort at the dig Snape made against Ron and his family, and

indirectly her.

"I think the fact that no one else has stood up to Fleur and called her on it,

shows that the Warbeck bird must be pretty bad," said James.

Under cover of a particularly jazzy number called "A Cauldron Full of

Hot, Strong Love," Fred and George started a game of Exploding Snap

with Ginny. Ron kept shooting Bill and Fleur covert looks, as though

hoping to pick up tips.

Meanwhile, Remus Lupin, who was thinner and more ragged-looking

than ever, was sitting beside the fire, staring into its depths as though

he could not hear Celestinas voice.

"A feat in itself I am sure," said Sirius, "I know Warbeck, Mother actually

likes to listen to her as well, probably only because gorgeous Celestina is

such a horrific singer that it reminds Mother of her own voice, which she

likes to use too often for the sanity of the human race."

Oh, come and stir my cauldron,

And if you do it right,

I'll boil you up some hot strong love

To keep you warm tonight.

"I think I want to puke," said Frank.

"We danced to this when we were eighteen!" said Mrs. Weasley, wiping

her eyes on her knitting. "Do you remember, Arthur?"

"Mphf?" said Mr. Weasley, whose head had been nodding over the

satsuma he was peeling. "Oh yes… marvelous tune…"

With an effort, he sat up a little straighter and looked around at Harry,

who was sitting next to him.

"Sorry about this," he said, jerking his head toward the wireless as

Celestina broke into the chorus. "Be over soon."

"Apparently he doesn't like it either, not that I blame him," commented

Frank, "Warbeck is probably another one of those things which is

universally loathed by all who carry a Y chromosome, although from

everyone else's reaction most X chromosomes aren't all that fond of it

either."

"She is an acquired taste, rather like regurgitated spam," said Sirius.

"How do you know about spam and how disgusting it is? Petunia complains

constantly about having to eat it at school."

"My neighbour, a lovely muggle girl, made me try some over the holidays,

it was disgusting, I can't believe they are made to eat that at school... makes

me glad that we have house-elves cooking at Hogwarts."

"You live in the muggle world?" asked Regulus, "I thought you were with

the Potters."

"Nah," said Sirius, "once I came of age I bought my own place with what

Uncle Alphie left me, it is on the outskirts of a small muggle town

bordering a few properties, my neighbours are a muggle family who own a

mechanic shop."

"I'm guessing they are helping you with your infamous motorbike,"

commented Hermione.

"No problem," said Harry, grinning. "Has it been busy at the

Ministry?"

"Very," said Mr. Weasley. "I wouldn't mind if we were getting

anywhere, but of the three arrests we've made in the last couple of

months, I doubt that one of them is a genuine Death Eater — only don't

repeat that, Harry," he added quickly, looking much more awake all of

a sudden.

"So let me get this straight," said Regulus, "in one night six underage

students were able to capture more death eaters than the entire ministry and

their auror corps has in six months. I'm not sure if that says something good

about you Mie, or something pretty appalling about the state of the

ministry."

"No offence to Mie," said Sirius, "probably the latter, because it seems that

the ministry is a pack of buffoons."

"That's fine," said Hermione with a weak smile, "we weren't nearly as

successful in the department of mysteries as we hoped, our expedition had a

cost which we did not want to pay."

Sirius' smile faded slightly at the reminder of his death, "if only Bella was

one of the ones brought to justice it would have been better, but if that's

what it takes to get so many out of action then I guess it is a price we just

have to pay. Make the best of what we have I suppose and deal with what is

left, there is no point dwelling too much on the past if it is going to

adversely affect the future."

"A wise philosophy Mr Black," said Albus, looking impressed at the

maturity shown by his student at that point.

"They're not still holding Stan Shunpike, are they?" asked Harry.

"I'm afraid so," said Mr. Weasley. "I know Dumbledore's tried

appealing directly to Scrimgeour about Stan… I mean, anybody who

has actually interviewed him agrees that he's about as much a Death

Eater as this satsuma… but the top levels want to look as though

they're making some progress, and 'three arrests' sounds better than

'three mistaken arrests and releases'… but again, this is all top

secret…"

"I won't say anything," said Harry. He hesitated for a moment,

wondering how best to embark on what he wanted to say; as he

marshalled his thoughts, Celestina Warbeck began a ballad called "You

Charmed the Heart Right Out of Me."

A few people shivered in disgust.

"Mr. Weasley, you know what I told you at the station when we were

setting off for school?"

"I checked, Harry," said Mr. Weasley at once. "I went and searched the

Malfoys' house. There was nothing, either broken or whole, that

shouldn't have been there."

"Yeah, I know, I saw in the Prophet that you'd looked… but this is

something different… Well, something more…"

And he told Mr. Weasley everything he had overheard between Malfoy

and Snape, As Harry spoke, he saw Lupin's head turn a little toward

him, taking in every word.

"Finished brooding have we?" asked James, "about time you should pay

attention to our son, we haven't really seen that much of you these last few

books Moony, particularly this one."

When he had finished, there was silence, except for Celestina's

crooning.

Oh, my poor heart, where has it gone?

It's left me for a spell…

"Has it occurred to you, Harry," said Mr. Weasley, "that Snape was

simply pretending —?"

"Pretending to offer help, so that he could find out what Malfoy's up

to?" said Harry quickly. "Yeah, I thought you'd say that. But how do

we know?"

"It isn't our business to know," said Lupin unexpectedly. He had

turned his back on the fire now and faced Harry across Mr. Weasley.

"It's Dumbledore's business. Dumbledore trusts Severus, and that

ought to be good enough for all of us."

"But," said Harry, "just say — just say Dumbledore's wrong about

Snape —"

"People have said it, many times. It comes down to whether or not you

trust Dumbledore's judgment. I do; therefore, I trust Severus."

"But Dumbledore can make mistakes," argued Harry.

"That is true," said Albus, "it is evident that my future self has made errors

regarding Harry, however I see no reason why this should be one of them."

"He says it himself. And you"— he looked Lupin straight in the eye —

"do you honestly like Snape?"

"The million galleon question," commented Frank.

"Should I block my ears, or would you like me to hear about how much you

all loath me?" asked Severus.

"I neither like nor dislike Severus," said Lupin. "No, Harry, I am

speaking the truth," he added, as Harry pulled a sceptical expression.

"We shall never be bosom friends, perhaps; after all that happened

between James and Sirius and Severus, there is too much bitterness

there.

"Perhaps," said Hermione, "however Harry is not James, or Sirius for that

matter, something which people seem to forget in these books. As much as I

hate to say it,"

"Though I am sure that has never stopped you from saying anything,"

sneered Severus.

"Thank you for that insight Severus, however your future self, as we can

see has done nothing to endear himself to Harry or to do anything but

cultivate that response," said Hermione, "so really this is more than just

inherited prejudices, there is a substantive reason behind why Harry holds

the opinions he does."

"Yet that didn't stop you from not believing Potter I am sure," retorted

Severus coldly.

Minerva cleared her throat, "if you are both quite finished, perhaps we

could continue to read."

But I do not forget that during the year I taught at Hogwarts, Severus

made the Wolfsbane Potion for me every month, made it perfectly, so

that I did not have to suffer as I usually do at the full moon."

"But he 'accidentally' let it slip that you're a werewolf, so you had to

leave!" said Harry angrily.

"What?" said Lily, outraged, "how could you?"

"I haven't done it yet," said Severus defensively, before continuing, "so

don't get up me yet, as it is it seems to only be a method of cultivating, what

was it... a substantive reason behind why Harry holds such a low opinion of

me."

Lupin shrugged. "The news would have leaked out anyway. We both

know he wanted my job, but he could have wreaked much worse

damage on me by tampering with the potion. He kept me healthy. I

must be grateful."

"Oh yes, I am sure my future self was looking forward to becoming one of

the many 'has-beens' of the defence post, from where I am sitting potions is

much better, the morality rate is significantly better."

"Maybe he didn't dare mess with the potion with Dumbledore watching

him!" said Harry.

"You are determined to hate him, Harry," said Lupin with a faint smile.

"And I understand; with James as your father, with Sirius as your

godfather, you have inherited an old prejudice.

"I agree with Mie," said James staunchly defending his son, "Harry had no

contact with Sirius or myself before Hogwarts to have inherited that

prejudice, Snape created it all on his own!"

"That is enough bickering between you," said Minerva, "can we please just

read in peace, it is too early for this."

"I think someone might be hung-over," stage-whispered Sirius to Remus,

who snorted in amusement, earning the two boys a glare from their annoyed

transfiguration professor.

By all means tell Dumbledore what you have told Arthur and me, but

do not expect him to share your view of the matter; do not even expect

him to be surprised by what you tell him. It might have been on

Dumbledore's orders that Severus questioned Draco."

… and now you've torn it quite apart

I'll thank you to give back my heart!

Celestina ended her song on a very long, high-pitched note and loud

applause issued out of the wireless, which Mrs. Weasley joined in with

enthusiastically.

"Eez eet over?" said Fleur loudly. "Thank goodness, what an 'orrible

—"

"Ah Fleur Delacour, flower of the heart, her blunt honesty does grow on

you after awhile," commented Sirius.

"Shall we have a nightcap, then?" asked Mr. Weasley loudly, leaping to

his feet. "Who wants eggnog?"

"Guess who is trying to play peace-maker."

"What have you been up to lately?" Harry asked Lupin, as Mr,

Weasley bustled off to fetch the eggnog, and everybody else stretched

and broke into conversation.

"Oh, I've been underground," said Lupin. "Almost literally. That's

why I haven't been able to write, Harry; sending letters to you would

have been something of a giveaway."

"What do you mean?"

"I've been living among my fellows, my equals," said Lupin.

"Werewolves," he added, at Harry's look of incomprehension. "Nearly

all of them are on Voldemort's side. Dumbledore wanted a spy and here

I was… ready-made."

"Wouldn't they be a bit hostile towards you, being a wizard and all?"

pointed out James, "jealousy and all that rot."

He sounded a little bitter, and perhaps realized it, for he smiled more

warmly as he went on, "I am not complaining; it is necessary work and

who can do it better than I? However, it has been difficult gaining their

trust. I bear the unmistakable signs of having tried to live among

wizards, you see, whereas they have shunned normal society and live on

the margins, stealing — and sometimes killing — to eat."

"Why is there plight so bad though?" asked Lily, "What is stopping them,

besides the bigotry from actually being part of society or forming their

own?"

"Magic," said Albus, "most werewolves were not actually witches or

wizards to begin with, they were muggles who were attacked. Have you not

wondered why Mr Lupin is the only werewolf to have come from

Hogwarts? As I had often said, Hogwarts is open to anyone who possesses

magical talent, no matter the circumstances of their birth or any affliction.

The reason why he is the first is because he is the only magical werewolf

since I began my tenure as headmaster, even before then there were only

very few others."

"So what happens to the others then?"

"For the muggles who are bitten, they are thrust headlong into a world they

don't understand, which discriminates against them and are not truly able to

fit in to it. This creates resentment towards the magical world and wizards,"

expanded Minerva.

"Why are more muggles bitten than wizards?" asked Hermione, slightly

surprised at this information, as it wasn't included in any of the textbooks

she had read.

"If you know that there is a threat, you can take measures to prevent

anything from happening," said Albus, "many houses have wards installed

against werewolves either to keep them out or to at least alert families and

the ministry of their presence in the general area. Wizards also know to take

precautions on nights of the full moon. So knowing about the threat is what

helps prevent the spread among wizards, however muggles don't have that

knowledge so they don't have the same defences available against them."

"There is also discrimination in the ministry as well, if a werewolf attacks a

wizard the penalty is death and they are executed, however if they attack a

muggle the penalty isn't nearly as harsh," added Frank.

Hermione noticed that throughout this conversation, as fascinating as it

was, Sirius alternated between looking pointedly at the floor or staring

mournfully at Remus and occasionally Severus. Obviously what he almost

did that day with the willow weighed heavily on his mind. Hermione looked

up again and saw Lily shaking her head.

"That is so wrong!"

"Perhaps we should read on Lils," suggested Alice, "I don't think wondering

about the stupidity of human kind is productive at the moment."

"How come they like Voldemort?"

"They think that, under his rule, they will have a better life," said

Lupin.

"Why would they think that?" asked Hermione, "after all they would only

be weapons and Voldemort reminds me of Hitler, exterminating everything

considered impure, surely werewolves would be included in that."

"Even if they are weapons, to werewolves who have been disenfranchised

and have no purpose and no real meaning to their existence in their eyes, it

is probably better than nothing," pointed out Frank, "besides they probably

consider it to be a chance to get revenge on the wizarding world."

"And it is hard to argue with Greyback out there…"

The three marauders snarled at the name, they shared a universal hatred of

Greyback for what he did to Remus.

"Who's Greyback?"

"You haven't heard of him?" Lupin's hands closed convulsively in his

lap. "Fenrir Greyback is, perhaps, the most savage werewolf alive

today. He regards it as his mission in life to bite and to contaminate as

many people as possible; he wants to create enough werewolves to

overcome the wizards. Voldemort has promised him prey in return for

his services. Greyback specializes in children… Bite them young, he

says, and raise them away from their parents, raise them to hate

normal wizards. Voldemort has threatened to unleash him upon

people's sons and daughters; it is a threat that usually produces good

results."

"That is sick!" said Lily outraged, the entire room looked rather disgusted

and horrified at the idea.

"Greyback is also considered to be the head werewolf," commented Remus

looking rather ill at the mention of the lupine creature who contaminated

him, "because he is magical he has that distinction, he is the most

powerful."

"I thought you said they didn't like werewolves with magical abilities,"

pointed out Lily.

"Magic is one of those things, they all want it, so they will either respect

someone who has it or hate them due to jealousy, depending on who

appeals to them most, because Greyback is very pro-werewolf 'we can rise

up and rule the world,' his message makes him a very attractive leader for

them," explained Remus.

Lupin paused and then said, "It was Greyback who bit me."

"What?" said Harry, astonished. "When — when you were a kid, you

mean?"

"Yes. My father had offended him. I did not know, for a very long time,

the identity of the werewolf who had attacked me; I even felt pity for

him, thinking that he had had no control, knowing by then how it felt

to transform. But Greyback is not like that. At the full moon, he

positions himself close to victims, ensuring that he is near enough to

strike. He plans it all. And this is the man Voldemort is using to

marshal the werewolves. I cannot pretend that my particular brand of

reasoned argument is making much headway against Greyback's

insistence that we werewolves deserve blood, that we ought to revenge

ourselves on normal people."

"But you are normal!" said Harry fiercely. "You've just got a — a

problem —"

"A furry little problem," added James with a slight smile, still rather ill at

the turn the discussion had taken though.

Lupin burst out laughing. "Sometimes you remind me a lot of James.

He called it my 'furry little problem' in company. Many people were

under the impression that I owned a badly behaved rabbit."

"Lupin's lupine lapin," remarked Sirius, trying to lighten the mood.

"Lapin?" asked Alice, "what is a lapin, it sound like he is going to do a lap

dance, it isn't that I'm not interested, just I think Frankie might take

exception to that idea."

"Lapin is French for rabbit," explained Hermione, snickering slightly at the

rather clever play on words.

He accepted a glass of eggnog from Mr. Weasley with a word of thanks,

looking slightly more cheerful, Harry, meanwhile, felt a rush of

excitement: This last mention of his father had reminded him that

there was something he had been looking forward to asking Lupin.

"Have you ever heard of someone called the Half-Blood Prince?"

"The Half-Blood what?"

"I'll take that as a no," commented Frank dryly, "although it is bugging me,

because I feel we have heard that name somewhere before this book, I just

can't place it, my inner Ravenclaw is not impressed."

Hermione smiled, knowing that she used it to convince Severus of her

authenticity.

"Prince," said Harry, watching him closely for signs of recognition.

"There are no Wizarding princes," said Lupin, now smiling.

"In terms of title, however it is a respected pure-blood last name," pointed

out Regulus, "respected by everyone but Mother, in any case, but even that

is more due to personal antagonism towards members of the family than the

lineage as a whole."

"Is this a title you're thinking of adopting? I should have thought being

'the Chosen One' would be enough."

"It's nothing to do with me!" said Harry indignantly. "The Half-Blood

Prince is someone who used to go to Hogwarts, I've got his old Potions

book. He wrote spells all over it, spells he invented. One of them was

Levicorpus —"

"Oh, that one had a great vogue during my time at Hogwarts," said

Lupin reminiscently. "There were a few months in my fifth year when

you couldn't move for being hoisted into the air by your ankle."

Severus smirked slightly, he was rather proud of that spell, even if he did

not like the consequences of one instance of its use. He was also personally

responsible for at least three quarters of the times the marauders were

dangling upside down.

"My dad used it," said Harry. "I saw him in the Pensieve, he used it on

Snape."

He tried to sound casual, as though this was a throwaway comment of

no real importance, but he was not sure he had achieved the right

effect; Lupin's smile was a little too understanding.

"Yes," he said, "but he wasn't the only one. As I say, it was very

popular… You know how these spells come and go…"

"But it sounds like it was invented while you were at school," Harry

persisted.

Lily smiled, her son was so smart!

"Not necessarily," said Lupin. "Jinxes go in and out of fashion like

everything else."

He looked into Harry's face and then said quietly, "James was a

pureblood, Harry, and I promise you, he never asked us to call him

'Prince.'"

Abandoning pretense, Harry said, "And it wasn't Sirius? Or you?"

"Definitely not."

"Oh." Harry stared into the fire. "I just thought — well, he's helped me

out a lot in Potions classes, the Prince has."

"How old is this book, Harry?"

"I dunno, I've never checked."

"Well, perhaps that will give you some clue as to when the Prince was

at Hogwarts," said Lupin.

Shortly after this, Fleur decided to imitate Celestina singing "A

Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love," which was taken by everyone,

once they had glimpsed Mrs. Weasley's expression, to be the cue to go

to bed. Harry and Ron climbed all the way up to Ron's attic bedroom,

where a camp bed had been added for Harry.

Ron fell asleep almost immediately, but Harry delved into his trunk

and pulled out his copy of Advanced Potion-Making before getting into

bed. There he turned its pages, searching, until he finally found, at the

front of the book, the date that it had been published. It was nearly

fifty years old.

"So probably a descendant of the Prince line from when the majority of our

parents were at school," said Frank, "any ideas, this is really bugging me."

Those who knew who the prince was, which was Lily, Severus, Hermione

and the two professors, did not share their knowledge, so Alice decided

perhaps it would just be best to keep reading.

Neither his father, nor his father's friends, had been at Hogwarts fifty

years ago. Feeling disappointed, Harry threw the book back into his

trunk, turned off the lamp, and rolled over, thinking of werewolves and

Snape, Stan Shunpike and the Half-Blood Prince, and finally falling

into an uneasy sleep full of creeping shadows and the cries of bitten

children…

"She's got to be joking…"

"I'm guessing we have reached a change in scene," observed Remus dryly.

Harry woke with a start to find a bulging stocking lying over the end of

his bed. He put on his glasses and looked around; the tiny window was

almost completely obscured with snow and, in front of it, Ron was

sitting bolt upright in bed and examining what appeared to be a thick

gold chain.

Hermione started snickering, she remembered hearing about and seeing the

infamous gold chain. Once Lavender realised that Ron was going to break

up with her, she started subtly getting revenge on him, one way was

mentioning said golden chain and asking why 'Won-won' wouldn't wear it...

did it mean she didn't love her anymore?

"What's that?" asked Harry.

"It's from Lavender," said Ron, sounding revolted. "She can't honestly

think I'd wear…"

Harry looked more closely and let out a shout of laughter. Dangling

from the chain in large gold letters were the words:

"My sweetheart"

A burst of laughter rippled throughout the room.

"Thank you for never making me wear that!" said an appreciative James to

Lily.

"Aren't you proud to be my girlfriend?" asked Lily in a fake hurt voice,

seeing how far to China her boyfriend would dig himself this time.

"Of course I am," appeased James.

"So why wouldn't you want to wear something which shows how much I

love you?" pushed Lily.

Sirius snorted, as amusing as it was to see his brother in all but blood talk

himself into the metaphorical dog, or perhaps stag house, he decided to

rescue James... just this once anyway.

"What Prongsie is saying is that you wouldn't need to force him to do it, he

would endure that or any other humiliation he hasn't already subjected

himself to for the last six years more than willingly for your sake," teased

Sirius, "such as the time..."

"I think it is time Smith starts to read again," interrupted James quickly,

sending a pointed stare towards Alice. Who in response took an extra long

time to resume reading, just to annoy James.

"Nice," he said. "Classy. You should definitely wear it in front of Fred

and George."

"If you tell them," said Ron, shoving the necklace out of sight under his

pillow, "I — I — I'll—"

"Stutter at me?" said Harry, grinning. "Come on, would I?"

"In a heartbeat," said James, thinking about what he would do in Harry's

position, a course of action approved by the other marauders present.

"Did he?" asked Regulus curiously with a grin.

"Not directly, instead he 'let it slip' to Ginny and me, knowing that it would

make its way back to the twins as a result," said Hermione.

"How could she think I'd like something like that, though?" Ron

demanded of thin air, looking rather shocked.

"Well, think back," said Harry. "Have you ever let it slip that you'd

like to go out in public with the words 'My Sweetheart' round your

neck?"

Most of the room chuckled at that comment.

"Well… we don't really talk much," said Ron. "It's mainly…"

"Snogging," said Harry.

"Well, yeah," said Ron. He hesitated a moment, then said, "Is

Hermione really going out with McLaggen?"

"Not if he was the last man on earth," said Hermione immediately, with an

enormous amount of certainty.

"I dunno," said Harry. "They were at Slughorn's party together, but I

don't think it went that well."

Ron looked slightly more cheerful as he delved deeper into his stocking.

Harry's presents included a sweater with a large Golden Snitch worked

onto the front, hand-knitted by Mrs. Weasley, a large box of Weasleys'

Wizard Wheezes products from the twins, and a slightly damp,

mouldy-smelling package that came with a label reading To Master,

From Kreacher.

"I wonder what Kreacher got him," said Regulus.

"Depends how much he likes you," said Sirius, "for the last Christmas I

spent at home he gave me a sheep's intestine... I have no idea why and quite

frankly I don't want to know, while he made Reg, what was it? Some form

of tapestry for your room."

Regulus nodded, "I have a feeling that Harry will probably be closer to the

animal carcass end of the spectrum than the elaborate tapestry."

Harry stared at it. "D'you reckon this is safe to open?" he asked.

"Can't be anything dangerous, all our mail's still being searched at the

Ministry," replied Ron, though he was eyeing the parcel suspiciously.

"I didn't think of giving Kreacher anything. Do people usually give

their house-elves Christmas presents?" asked Harry, prodding the

parcel cautiously.

"Most people do," said Frank, "after all they are considered to be part of

your family for the most part."

"Hermione would," said Ron. "But let's wait and see what it is before

you start feeling guilty."

A moment later, Harry had given a loud yell and leapt out of his camp

bed; the package contained a large number of maggots. "Nice," said

Ron, roaring with laughter. "Very thoughtful."

"I'd rather have them than that necklace," said Harry, which sobered

Ron up at once.

"He makes a convincing argument, that young Mr Potter," said Frank,

agreeing with Harry most thoroughly.

Everybody was wearing new sweaters when they all sat down for

Christmas lunch, everyone except Fleur (on whom, it appeared, Mrs.

Weasley had not wanted to waste one) and Mrs. Weasley herself, who

was sporting a brand-new midnight blue witch's hat glittering with

what looked like tiny starlike diamonds, and a spectacular golden

necklace.

"Does it call her a sweet heart too?" asked Severus, "perhaps her and Ron's

are a matching set."

"Fred and George gave them to me! Aren't they beautiful?"

"Well, we find we appreciate you more and more, Mum, now we're

washing our own socks," said George, waving an airy hand. "Parsnips,

Remus?"

"I've been washing my own socks for years now since Kreacher decided to

tamper with them and put some interesting elements in them, safety

precaution, and trust me it hasn't made me appreciate Mother anymore,"

said Sirius.

"Harry, you've got a maggot in your hair," said Ginny cheerfully,

leaning across the table to pick it out; Harry felt goose bumps erupt up

his neck that had nothing to do with the maggot.

"'Ow 'orrible," said Fleur, with an affected little shudder.

"Teasing or being serious?" wondered Lily.

Hermione shrugged, she thought it would probably be the former, as Fleur

had an extremely high tolerance for disgusting things Hermione had

discovered, and probably also saw through the fact that Ginny was

interested in Harry.

"Yes, isn't it?" said Ron. "Gravy, Fleur?"

In his eagerness to help her, he knocked the gravy boat flying; Bill

waved his wand and the gravy soared up in the air and returned

meekly to the boat.

"You are as bad as zat Tonks," said Fleur to Ron, when she had

finished kissing Bill in thanks. "She is always knocking —"

"I invited dear Tonks to come along today," said Mrs. Weasley, setting

down the carrots with unnecessary force and glaring at Fleur. "But she

wouldn't come. Have you spoken to her lately, Remus?"

"No, I haven't been in contact with anybody very much," said Lupin.

"But Tonks has got her own family to go to, hasn't she?"

"Hmmm," said Mrs. Weasley. "Maybe. I got the impression she was

planning to spend Christmas alone, actually."

Hermione had to suppress a snort at, what was now identified as, Mrs

Weasley's not so subtle comments about their relationship.

She gave Lupin an annoyed look, as though it was all his fault she was

getting Fleur for a daughter-in-law instead of Tonks,

Hermione couldn't resist a snort at that one, Harry was on the wrong track

completely, which was rather amusing in her eyes, mind you Harry always

was horrible at anything to do with relationships.

but Harry, glancing across at Fleur, who was now feeding Bill bits of

turkey off her own fork, thought that Mrs. Weasley was fighting a long-

lost battle. He was, however, reminded of a question he had with regard

to Tonks, and who better to ask than Lupin, the man who knew all

about Patronuses?

"I doubt I know all," said Remus.

"Tonks's Patronus has changed its form," he told him. "Snape said so

anyway. I didn't know that could happen. Why would your Patronus

change?"

Lupin took his time chewing his turkey and swallowing before saying

slowly, "Sometimes… a great shock… an emotional up-heaval…"

"It looked big, and it had four legs," said Harry, struck by a sudden

thought and lowering his voice. "Hey… it couldn't be —?"

"Arthur!"

"I don' think it would be Mr Weasley," said Regulus dryly.

Hermione snickered slightly, Harry was off on the wrong track once again,

much to her amusement.

said Mrs. Weasley suddenly. She had risen from her chair; her hand

was pressed over her heart and she was staring out of the kitchen

window. "Arthur — it's Percy!"

"What?"

Mr. Weasley looked around. Everybody looked quickly at the window;

Ginny stood up for a better look. There, sure enough, was Percy

Weasley, striding across the snowy yard, his horn-rimmed glasses

glinting in the sunlight. He was not, however, alone.

"Arthur, he's — he's with the Minister!"

"Ah, so we have the real reason for his visit," said Sirius cynically.

And sure enough, the man Harry had seen in the Daily Prophet was

following along in Percy's wake, limping slightly, his mane of graying

hair and his black cloak flecked with snow. Before any of, them could

say anything, before Mr. and Mrs. Weasley could do more than

exchange stunned looks, the back door opened and there stood Percy.

There was a moment's painful silence. Then Percy said rather stiffly,

"Happy Christmas, Mother."

"Well that sounded like he is someone seeking a family reunion," said

James.

"Oh, Percy!" said Mrs. Weasley, and she threw herself into his arms.

"Apparently Mollywobbles didn't get the owl," said Sirius.

Rufus Scrimgeour paused in the doorway, leaning on his walking stick

and smiling as he observed this affecting scene.

"Do I detect sarcasm in young Harry's thoughts?" commented Frank.

"You must forgive this intrusion," he said, when Mrs. Weasley looked

around at him, beaming and wiping her eyes. "Percy and I were in the

vicinity — working, you know — and he couldn't resist dropping in

and seeing you all."

But Percy showed no sign of wanting to greet any of the rest of the

family. He stood, poker-straight and awkward-looking, and stared over

everybody else's heads. Mr. Weasley, Fred, and George were all

observing him, stony-faced.

"Please, come in, sit down, Minister!" fluttered Mrs. Weasley,

straightening her hat. "Have a little purkey, or some tooding… I mean

—"

"No, no, my dear Molly," said Scrimgeour.

Harry guessed that he had checked her name with Percy before they

entered the house. "I don't want to intrude, wouldn't be here at all if

Percy hadn't wanted to see you all so badly…"

Someone let out a derisive snort at that one.

"Oh, Perce!" said Mrs. Weasley tearfully, reaching up to kiss him.

"… We've only looked in for five minutes, so I'll have a stroll around

the yard while you catch up with Percy. No, no, I assure you I don't

want to butt in! Well, if anybody cared to show me your charming

garden… Ah, that young man's finished, why doesn't he take a stroll

with me?"

"I don't think that fooled anyone," commented Regulus.

"Water is less transparent that that," said Remus.

"No wonder you and your friends are idiots if that is who your role models

are," sneered Severus. Hermione rolled her eyes, she felt Severus was being

stupid with that comment, no one would ever accuse Scrimgeour as proving

a model for any of their behaviours.

The atmosphere around the table changed perceptibly. Everybody

looked from Scrimgeour to Harry. Nobody seemed to find Scrimgeour's

pretence that he did not know Harry's name convincing, or find it

natural that he should be chosen to accompany the Minister around the

garden when Ginny, Fleur, and George also had clean plates.

"Yeah, all right," said Harry into the silence.

He was not fooled; for all Scrimgeour's talk that they had just been in

the area, that Percy wanted to look up his family, this must be the real

reason that they had come, so that Scrimgeour could speak to Harry

alone.

"It's fine," he said quietly, as he passed Lupin, who had half risen from

his chair. "Fine," he added, as Mr. Weasley opened his mouth to speak.

"Wonderful!" said Scrimgeour, standing back to let Harry pass

through the door ahead of him. "We'll just take a turn around the

garden, and Percy and I'll be off. Carry on, everyone!"

"Oh yes what a merry Christmas it will be now, with a meddling ministry of

magic rocking up on your doorstep to crash the celebrations," said Sirius.

Harry walked across the yard toward the Weasleys' overgrown, snow-

covered garden, Scrimgeour limping slightly at his side. He had, Harry

knew, been Head of the Auror office; he looked tough and battle-

scarred, very different from portly Fudge in his bowler hat.

"Charming," said Scrimgeour, stopping at the garden fence and

looking out over the snowy lawn and the indistinguishable plants.

"Charming."

Harry said nothing. He could tell that Scrimgeour was watching him.

"I've wanted to meet you for a very long time," said Scrimgeour, after a

few moments. "Did you know that?"

"No," said Harry truthfully.

"Not surprising though."

"Oh yes, for a very long time. But Dumbledore has been very protective

of you," said Scrimgeour. "Natural, of course, natural, after what

you've been through… Especially what happened at the Ministry…"

He waited for Harry to say something, but Harry did not oblige, so he

went on, "I have been hoping for an occasion to talk to you ever since I

gained office, but Dumbledore has — most understandably, as I say —

prevented this."

"Most likely with good reason," said Minerva.

Still, Harry said nothing, waiting.

"The rumors that have flown around!" said Scrimgeour. "Well, of

course, we both know how these stories get distorted… all these

whispers of a prophecy… of you being 'the Chosen One'…"

They were getting near it now, Harry thought, the reason Scrimgeour

was here.

"I assume that Dumbledore has discussed these matters with you?"

Harry deliberated, wondering whether he ought to lie or not. He looked

at the little gnome prints all around the flowerbeds, amid the scuffed-

up patch that marked the spot where Fred had caught the gnome now

wearing the tutu at the top of the Christmas tree. Finally, he decided on

the truth… or a bit of it.

"Yeah, we've discussed it."

"Have you, have you…" said Scrimgeour. Harry could see, out of the

corner of his eye, Scrimgeour squinting at him, so he pretended to be

very interested in a gnome that had just poked its head out from

underneath a frozen rhododendron. "And what has Dumbledore told

you, Harry?"

"Sorry, but that's between us," said Harry.

He kept his voice as pleasant as he could, and Scrimgeour's tone, too,

was light and friendly as he said, "Oh, of course, if it's a question of

confidences, I wouldn't want you to divulge… no, no… and in any case,

does it really matter whether you are 'the Chosen One' or not?"

Sirius sucked in a breath, he knew where this was going. Scrimgeour it

seems is a politician through and through, and seemed to be

underestimating Harry's observation skills.

Harry had to mull that one over for a few seconds before responding.

"I don't really know what you mean, Minister."

"Well, of course, to you it will matter enormously," said Scrimgeour

with a laugh. "But to the Wizarding community at large… it's all

perception, isn't it? It's what people believe that's important."

Harry said nothing. He thought he saw, dimly, where they were

heading, but he was not going to help Scrimgeour get there.

"Good boy," said Regulus, "very Slytherin of him."

"Harry has matured a lot since his trial the year before, he is handling

himself much better around high level ministry officials, he is thinking

before he speaks and not letting them take advantage of him," observed

Frank.

The gnome under the rhododendron was now digging for worms at its

roots, and Harry kept his eyes fixed upon it.

"People believe you are 'the Chosen One,' you see," said Scrimgeour.

"They think you quite the hero — which, of course, you are, Harry,

chosen or not! How many times have you faced He-Who-Must-Not-Be-

Named now? Well, anyway," he pressed on, without waiting for a reply,

"the point is, you are a symbol of hope for many, Harry. The idea that

there is somebody out there who might be able, who might even be

destined, to destroy He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named — well, naturally, it

gives people a lift. And I can't help but feel that, once you realize this,

you might consider it, well, almost a duty, to stand alongside the

Ministry, and give everyone a boost."

"And most likely allow the ministry to shift the responsibility for dealing

with the threat to him, rather than doing their jobs," said Frank.

The gnome had just managed to get hold of a worm. It was now tugging

very hard on it, trying to get it out of the frozen ground. Harry was

silent so long that Scrimgeour said, looking from Harry to the gnome,

"Funny little chaps, aren't they? But what say you, Harry?"

"I don't exactly understand what you want," said Harry slowly.

"'Stand alongside the Ministry'… What does that mean?"

"Oh, well, nothing at all onerous, I assure you," said Scrimgeour. "If

you were to be seen popping in and out of the Ministry from time to

time, for instance, that would give the right impression. And of course,

while you were there, you would have ample opportunity to speak to

Gawain Robards, my successor as Head of the Auror office. Dolores

Umbridge has told me that you cherish an ambition to become an

Auror.

"What?" said Lily, "that syphilitic cane toad is still employed by the

ministry? Surely she should have lost her job at least! What she did to my

son is illegal! Also what right does she have to even pretend to know

anything or presume to pretend to care about my son and his future, if she

had her way she was transfigure Harry into a flobberworm or insect so her

toadiness could eat him for second breakfast."

Well, that could be arranged very easily…"

Harry felt anger bubbling in the pit of his stomach: So Dolores

Umbridge was still at the Ministry, was she?

"Family resemblance it seems it still going strong in some aspects,"

commented Remus.

"So basically," he said, as though he just wanted to clarify a few points,

"you'd like to give the impression that I'm working for the Ministry?"

"It would give everyone a lift to think you were more involved, Harry,"

said Scrimgeour, sounding relieved that Harry had cottoned on so

quickly. "'The Chosen One,' you know… It's all about giving people

hope, the feeling that exciting things are happening…"

"But if I keep running in and out of the Ministry," said Harry, still

endeavoring to keep his voice friendly, "won't that seem as though I

approve of what the Ministry's up to?"

"Touché."

"Oh goodie," said James "it seems it is about to get exciting."

"Well," said Scrimgeour, frowning slightly, "well, yes, that's partly why

we'd like —"

"No, I don't think that'll work," said Harry pleasantly. "You see, I

don't like some of the things the Ministry's doing. Locking up Stan

Shunpike, for instance."

Scrimgeour did not speak for a moment but his expression hardened

instantly. "I would not expect you to understand," he said, and he was

not as successful at keeping anger out of his voice as Harry had been.

"These are dangerous times, and certain measures need to be taken.

You are sixteen years old —"

"Dumbledore's a lot older than sixteen, and he doesn't think Stan

should be in Azkaban either," said Harry. "You're making Stan a

scapegoat, just like you want to make me a mascot."

"A very accurate summary," observed Minerva.

They looked at each other, long and hard. Finally Scrimgeour said,

with no pretense at warmth, "I see. You prefer — like your hero,

Dumbledore — to disassociate yourself from the Ministry?"

"I don't want to be used," said Harry.

"Some would say it's your duty to be used by the Ministry!"

"I disagree," said Lily emphatically, "I believe it should be quite the

opposite, it is the government's responsibility to serve the people and

represent their interests, rather than use the people, my son in particular, to

serve their own interests."

Sirius snorted cynically, "and Grindelwald fought for the 'greater good'.

Theory and reality don't always correspond, like it or not humans tend to

screw things up since we are all inherently screwed up ourselves, so while

in theory government is meant to be some all-encompassing pluralist ideal,

in reality it is just as corrupt as the rest of society."

"Yeah, and others might say it's your duty to check that people really

are Death Eaters before you chuck them in prison," said Harry, his

temper rising now. "You're doing what Barty Crouch did. You never

get it right, you people, do you? Either we've got Fudge, pretending

everything's lovely while people get murdered right under his nose, or

we've got you, chucking the wrong people into jail and trying to

pretend you've got 'the Chosen One' working for you!" '

"So you're not 'the Chosen One'?" said Scrimgeour.

"I thought you said it didn't matter either way?" said Harry, with a

bitter laugh. "Not to you anyway."

"Whoopsie," said Regulus, "seems that the poison's in the potion now,

Scrimgeour has walked into that one."

"I shouldn't have said that," said Scrimgeour quickly. "It was tactless

—"

"No, it was honest," said Harry. "One of the only honest things you've

said to me. You don't care whether I live or die, but you do care that I

help you convince everyone you're winning the war against Voldemort.

I haven't forgotten, Minister…"

He raised his right fist. There, shining white on the back of his cold

hand, were the scars which Dolores Umbridge had forced him to carve

into his own flesh: I must not tell lies.

"It would be considered a lie if Harry appeared to approve of what the

ministry was doing," said James, "and the ministry seems to be so adamant

that he tells the truth."

"Seems you are all a bunch of brash Gryffindors," said Severus

disparagingly, "you seem to approve of the isolation of a potential ally. If

Potter thought at all, he could use his influence and make the ministry

indebted to him and make them do what he wants. If he showed he would

'rise above the abuses of the ministry' and overlook the past to help,

provided he was given the right incentive of course, he could see the toad

removed from her post and sent to the pits of hell or he could organise to

receive combat training from aurors, his influence could even counteract

any negative political backlash associated with releasing those who were

falsely arrested. While Potter's wit is still strong, he lacks the political

knowledge to use these connections to his advantage."

"Are you saying that it is wrong for my son to not want to endorse those

who have tortured him, or to give credibility to those who do not deserve

it?" snarled James, defending his son's position, and his own personal

beliefs.

"Sometimes it is necessary to overcome personal sensibilities in order to

win a war," responded Severus, "which is clearly why you lot are all in

Gryffindor, rather than in Slytherin."

"I don't remember you rushing to my defence when I was trying to tell

everyone Voldemort was back. The Ministry wasn't so keen to be pals

last year."

They stood in silence as icy as the ground beneath their feet. The

gnome had finally managed to extricate his worm and was now sucking

on it happily, leaning against the bottommost branches of the

rhododendron bush.

"What is Dumbledore up to?" said Scrimgeour brusquely. "Where

does he go when he is absent from Hogwarts?"

"No idea," said Harry.

"And you wouldn't tell me if you knew," said Scrimgeour, "would

you?"

"No, I wouldn't," said Harry.

"Well, then, I shall have to see whether I can't find out by other

means."

"You can try," said Harry indifferently. "But you seem cleverer than

Fudge, so I'd have thought you'd have learned from his mistakes. He

tried interfering at Hogwarts. You might have noticed he's not Minister

anymore, but Dumbledore's still headmaster. I'd leave Dumbledore

alone, if I were you."

"The kid makes a good point there," said Remus with a vindictive smirk,

Fudge deserved to be kicked out of office and more for everything that

happened the previous year.

There was a long pause.

"Well, it is clear to me that he has done a very good job on you," said

Scrimgeour, his eyes cold and hard behind his wire-rimmed glasses,

"Dumbledore's man through and through, aren't you, Potter?"

"Yeah, I am," said Harry. "Glad we straightened that out."

And turning his back on the Minister of Magic, he strode back toward

the house.

"That is the end of the chapter," announced Alice, leading to some general

discussion and further heated debates between the opposing worldviews of

Severus Snape and James Potter, however not everyone was focused on

what was fast descending into a squabble, thankfully no wands had been

drawn yet.

During the last couple of line of the chapter, knowing what was about to

come up, Hermione focused her gaze on the headmaster, to try and gauge

his reaction. She was interested to note that when Harry stated that he was

indeed Dumbledore's man through and through, that Albus, even 20 odd

years prior to the event was visibly touched. While she conceded that a

good actor could fake emotion, she did not believe this was the case. Firstly

Albus did not know what was coming up or that such a profound remark

would be made, secondly despite all her recent misgivings about Albus

Dumbledore and his 'love' for Harry, Hermione's instincts told her that the

sincerity in his gaze was indeed genuine and he was touched by the loyalty

of his future student. Hermione was having trouble reconciling her

conflicting thoughts about the headmaster, part of her was telling her that he

did care for Harry, and this was fuelled by the headmaster's recent reaction.

However this was at war with the other half of her mind, which was still

haunted by the image of her best-friend's 'corpse' and finding out that

someone she inherently trusted was the reason her best friend had sacrificed

himself. In short, since the war Hermione had been forced to re-evaluate her

opinion of the headmaster, who was more of a riddle than Riddle himself.

All she knew is that Dumbledore did care for Harry, however he was also

utilitarian in his worldview and methods, the shades of grey in-between

would have to be filled in as more information was gathered.

AN: Thanks fore reading, please review! Cheers!

17. Chapter 17

A Sluggish Memory

AN: Here is another chapter once again. Before I get into the usual stuff, I

have had a few reviews ask about what is happening with the epilogue of

DH etc. Just to be clear for the intents and purposes of this story the

epilogue does not exist and was never written, therefore they will not ever

read it. Everything to the last chapter remains the same, after that point I am

using my creative license and ability as an author of fanfiction to change it.

Okay, now that is out of the way, time to move forward. As usual I don't

own anything you can recognise, that all belongs to JK Rowling among

others. I would also like to thank everyone who has read and reviewed, it

has been a great encouragement, I know my chapters are slower than

normal, but that is what happens when I don't have time, but the reviews are

encouraging me to find time and keep going, so thanks! On with the story,

enjoy the new chapter, happy reading! Cheers!

"Are you ready to rumble Lils?" asked Alice, "whoops, I meant read, are

you ready to read?"

"If it means you will shut up for five minute, yes, yes I am," responded Lily,

"now give me the book like a good little girl, and if you play nice Frank

might give you a kiss."

"Well if that is the incentive..."

Lily quickly found herself in possession of the book and the room was

blissfully silent for a few moments while Alice and Frank were

preoccupied. At least until someone coughed, which Lily took as a signal to

begin.

"A Sluggish Memory," read out Lily, "perhaps we are back to the lessons."

Late in the afternoon, a few days after New Year, Harry, Ron, and

Ginny lined up beside the kitchen fire to return to Hogwarts. The

Ministry had arranged this one-off connection to the Floo Network to

return students quickly and safely to the school. Only Mrs. Weasley

was there to say good-bye, as Mr. Weasley, Fred, George, Bill, and

Fleur were all at work. Mrs. Weasley dissolved into tears at the

moment of parting. Admittedly, it took very little to set her off lately;

she had been crying on and off ever since Percy had stormed from the

house on Christmas Day with his glasses splattered with mashed

parsnip (for which Fred, George, and Ginny all claimed credit).

"Apparently the family reunion didn't go as planned," observed Remus

dryly.

"Splattered food and food fights are the hallmark or any family Christmas

or extended period of time in the same room, at least in my family anyway,"

commented James.

"I thought that only happened when Paddy and I are visiting," pointed out

Remus.

James shrugged, "you're family aren't you?"

"Don't cry, Mum," said Ginny, patting her on the back as Mrs. Weasley

sobbed into her shoulder. "It's okay…"

"Yeah, don't worry about us," said Ron, permitting his mother to plant

a very wet kiss on his cheek, "or about Percy. He's such a prat, it's not

really a loss, is it?"

"Not really what you say to an upset and probably menopausal woman,"

said James.

"I don't know," said Regulus, "I tell Mother that very thing quite frequently

when she starts ranting about a certain blemish upon our family's honour."

Sirius snorted, enjoying the implied insult and decided to deliberately

misconstrue it, "What did Bella do to get on the wrong side of her wand."

"Murder you twenty something years too late," replied Regulus.

"Oi!" said James, angry at the inappropriate slight against his 'brother',

"take that back, you shouldn't joke about that."

Mrs. Weasley sobbed harder than ever as she enfolded Harry in her

arms.

"Promise me you'll look after yourself… Stay out of trouble…"

"With his genes and horrible track-record, that is like convincing Hagrid

that his pets are actually dangerous creatures."

"I always do, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry. "I like a quiet life, you know

me."

She gave a watery chuckle and stood back. "Be good, then, all of

you…"

Harry stepped into the emerald fire and shouted "Hogwarts!" He had

one last fleeting view of the Weasleys' kitchen and Mrs. Weasley's

tearful face before the flames engulfed him; spinning very fast, he

caught blurred glimpses of other Wizarding rooms, which were

whipped out of sight before he could get a proper look; then he was

slowing down, finally stopping squarely in the fireplace in Professor

McGonagall's office. She barely glanced up from her work as he

clambered out over the grate.

"Evening, Potter. Try not to get too much ash on the carpet."

"Such a warm and friendly welcome," observed Severus sarcastically.

"No, Professor."

Harry straightened his glasses and flattened his hair as Ron came

spinning into view. When Ginny had arrived, all three of them trooped

out of McGonagall's office and off toward Gryffindor Tower. Harry

glanced out of the corridor windows as they passed; the sun was

already sinking over grounds carpeted in deeper snow than had lain

over the Burrow garden. In the distance, he could see Hagrid feeding

Buckbeak in front of his cabin.

"Baubles," said Ron confidently, when they reached the Fat Lady, who

was looking rather paler than usual and winced at his loud voice.

"No," she said.

"What d'you mean, 'no'?

"There is a new password," she said. "And please don't shout."

"Someone made her annual visit to the drunk monks it seems," said Sirius.

"But we've been away, how're we supposed to —?"

"Harry! Ginny!"

Hermione was hurrying toward them, very pink-faced and wearing a

cloak, hat, and gloves.

"I got back a couple of hours ago, I've just been down to visit Hagrid

and Buck — I mean Witherwings," she said breathlessly. "Did you

have a good Christmas?"

"Yeah," said Ron at once, "pretty eventful, Rufus Scrim —"

"I've got something for you, Harry," said Hermione, neither looking at

Ron nor giving any sign that she had heard him. "Oh, hang on —

password. Abstinence."

"Someone is still a widdle bit annoyed at ickle Ronniekins it seems,"

deduced Alice.

"I had recently spent time with Lavender, so yes, I was a little annoyed by

that point," said Hermione.

"Precisely," said the Fat Lady in a feeble voice, and swung forward to

reveal the portrait hole.

"What's up with her?" asked Harry.

"Overindulged over Christmas, apparently," said Hermione, rolling

her eyes as she led the way into the packed common room. "She and

her friend Violet drank their way through all the wine in that picture of

drunk monks down by the Charms corridor. Anyway…"

She rummaged in her pocket for a moment, then pulled out a scroll of

parchment with Dumbledore's writing on it.

"Great," said Harry, unrolling it at once to discover that his next lesson

with Dumbledore was scheduled for the following night. "I've got loads

to tell him — and you. Let's sit down —"

But at that moment there was a loud squeal of "Won-Won!" and

Lavender Brown came hurtling out of nowhere and flung herself into

Ron's arms.

"Well that is slightly embarrassing," said Alice, she then turned to Frank,

"don't ever do that to me, the nickname thing in any case, I don't mind it if

you fling yourself into my arms though."

"I think you would be more likely to do the nickname things to me, quite

honestly," said Frank, "and that is something I would prefer to avoid."

"Particularly if Smith kept to the tradition of substituting the first

consonants for the letter W, it could be rather embarrassing," pointed out

Sirius, snickering slightly.

"What?" asked Hermione slightly confused as she tried to work it out...

Frank, drop the 'fr' and add a 'w', would give... "Oh" said Hermione turning

red as the implications hit her, indeed that could be rather embarrassing.

"You have a disturbing mind, you know that don't you Black," said Frank,

looking rather uncomfortable at the joke made at his expense, hopefully

Alice loved him enough not to use the idea Black had given her... probably

on purpose.

"No one has ever accused me of being normal," said Sirius, "however I will

note that I prefer the term 'creatively unconventional' to disturbed, because

the latter reminds me too much of my psychotic family."

Several onlookers sniggered; Hermione gave a tinkling laugh and said,

"There's a table over here… Coming, Ginny?"

"No, thanks, I said I'd meet Dean," said Ginny, though Harry could not

help noticing that she did not sound very enthusiastic.

Leaving Ron and Lavender locked in a kind of vertical wrestling,

match, Harry led Hermione over to the spare table.

"So how was your Christmas?"

"Oh, fine," she shrugged. "Nothing special. How was it at Won-

Won's?"

"I'll tell you in a minute," said Harry. "Look, Hermione, can't you —"

"No, I can't," she said flatly. "So don't even ask."

"I thought maybe, you know, over Christmas —"

"It was the Fat Lady who drank a vat of five-hundred-year-old wine,

Harry, not me. So what was this important news you wanted to tell

me?"

"I don't know," said Regulus with a teasing lilt to his voice, "there is a lot to

be said about the benefits of drunken logic, I doubt it could do anything to

worsen your present, or rather past, disposition."

"I wouldn't be too sure," said Sirius, "five hundred years, wine is probably

vinegar by now, which definitely would have turned things slightly sour."

She looked too fierce to argue with at that moment, so Harry dropped

the subject of Ron and recounted all that he had overheard between

Malfoy and Snape. When he had finished, Hermione sat in thought for

a moment and then said, "Don't you think —?"

"— he was pretending to offer help so that he could trick Malfoy into

telling him what he's doing?"

"Well, yes," said Hermione.

"Ron's dad and Lupin think so," Harry said grudgingly. "But this

definitely proves Malfoy's planning something, you can't deny that."

"No, I can't," she answered slowly.

"And he's acting on Voldemort's orders, just like I said!"

"Hmm… did either of them actually mention Voldemort's name?"

Harry frowned, trying to remember. "I'm not sure… Snape definitely

said 'your master,' and who else would that be?"

"I don't know," said Hermione, biting her lip. "Maybe his father?"

"Not a Malfoy's style," said Sirius shaking his head, "while Lucy would

love to be called master by his own son, I doubt the younger Malfoy, who

seems quite similar to his father, would ever be caught doing it, not even

adding in teenage rebellion and all that rot."

"Besides," drawled Severus, "as much as I hate to burst your bubble, isn't

Malfoy Snr still checked in at the Azkaban hotel."

She stared across the room, apparently lost in thought, not even

noticing Lavender tickling Ron.

"How's Lupin?"

"Not great," said Harry, and he told her all about Lupin's mission

among the werewolves and the difficulties he was facing. "Have you

heard of this Fenrir Greyback?"

"Yes, I have!" said Hermione, sounding startled. "And so have you,

Harry!"

"When, History of Magic? You know full well I never listened…"

"No, no, not History of Magic — Malfoy threatened Borgin with him!"

said Hermione. "Back in Knockturn Alley, don't you remember? He

told Borgin that Greyback was an old family friend and that he'd be

checking up on Borgin's progress!"

Harry gaped at her. "I forgot! But this proves Malfoys a Death Eater,

how else could he be in contact with Greyback and telling him what to

do?"

"Yeah, that little fact didn't do much to advance your own argument,"

commented Lily cheekily.

"It is pretty suspicious," breathed Hermione. "Unless…"

"Oh, come on," said Harry in exasperation, "you can't get round this

one!"

"Well… there is the possibility it was an empty threat."

"You're unbelievable, you are," said Harry, shaking his head. "We'll

see who's right… You'll be eating your words, Hermione, just like the

Ministry. Oh yeah, I had a row with Rufus Scrimgeour as well…"

Hermione sighed, while that certainly was the case, she wished that she was

right and that no one was conspiring to murder anyone.

The new term started next morning with a pleasant surprise for the

sixth years: a large sign had been pinned to the common room notice

boards overnight.

APPARITION LESSONS

If you are seventeen years of age, or will turn seventeen on or before

the 31st August next, you are eligible for a twelve-week course of

Apparition Lessons from a Ministry of Magic Apparition instructor.

Please sign below if you would like to participate. Cost: 12 Galleons.

Harry and Ron joined the crowd that was jostling around the notice

and taking it in turns to write their names at the bottom. Ron was just

taking out his quill to sign after Hermione when Lavender crept up

behind him, slipped her hands over his eyes, and trilled, "Guess who,

Won-Won?"

Harry turned to see Hermione stalking off; he caught up with her,

having no wish to stay behind with Ron and Lavender, but to his

surprise, Ron caught up with them only a little way beyond the portrait

hole, his ears bright red and his expression disgruntled.

"Trouble in paradise?"

Without a word, Hermione sped up to walk with Neville.

"So — Apparition," said Ron, his tone making it perfectly plain that

Harry was not to mention what had just happened. "Should be a laugh,

eh?"

"I dunno," said Harry. "Maybe it's better when you do it yourself, I

didn't enjoy it much when Dumbledore took me along for the ride."

"I forgot you'd already done it… I'd better pass my test first time,"

said Ron, looking anxious. "Fred and George did."

"Charlie failed, though, didn't he?"

"Yeah, but Charlie's bigger than me"— Ron held his arms out from his

body as though he was a gorilla — "so Fred and George didn't go on

about it much… not to his face anyway…"

"Ah sibling affection," said Frank with a smile.

"How did you all do on your tests?" asked Hermione, curiously.

"The three of us all passed first time," said James, "I think being an

animagus helped, because you become used to drawing your magic to the

surface and you have a different way to approaching your magic, which

made it quite a lot easier."

"Being a werewolf probably helped a bit as well," said Remus, "for much

the same reasons."

"I can kind of do it," said Regulus, "but I haven't really started the course

yet, but Dad started teaching me a bit on the holidays to give me a head

start, so not really a relevant question for me."

"I failed the first time," mumbled Lily to herself.

"Sorry didn't catch that Lils," said Sirius brightly, knowing what she said.

"I said, I failed the first time," repeated Lily, louder, "I ended up in the

wrong place, nothing wrong with my ability to apparate, just my ability to

navigate."

"Lily suffers from the universal female affliction of not being able to read a

map," said James.

"Watch it bucko, I can hex you remember," warned Lily, good naturedly.

"What about you, Frank and Alice?" asked Hermione curiously.

"We both failed the first time as well," said Frank, "I splinched myself,

while Ali didn't land in the desired position, as in she fell flat on her face

when she landed."

"I didn't realise you could fail for that," commented Regulus.

"Apparently you can, not being able to land properly causes undue risk to

the apparator and any surrounding people," commented Alice, "in other

words they were scared I would take out myself or some other person when

I land."

"What about you, Sev?" asked Lily, feeling guilty that she didn't actually

know.

"Passed first time," said Severus with a shrug.

Lily gave him a smile, "I am not surprised you are a very focused and

determined person, which is needed for apparition, good work."

"When can we take the actual test?"

"Soon as we're seventeen. That's only March for me!"

"Yeah, but you wouldn't be able to Apparate in here, not in the

castle…"

"Not the point, is it? Everyone would know I could Apparate if I

wanted."

"It reminds me of the hype the comes with passing a muggle driving test,"

said Hermione, remembering her cousins boasting about it and how they

competed with each other and teased each other about it.

Ron was not the only one to be excited at the prospect of Apparition.

All that day there was much talk about the forthcoming, lessons; a

great deal of store was set by being able to vanish and reappear at will.

"How cool will it be when we can just —" Seamus clicked his ringers to

indicate disappearance. "Me cousin Fergus does it just to annoy me,

you wait till I can do it back… He'll never have another peaceful

moment…"

Lost in visions of this happy prospect, he flicked his wand a little too

enthusiastically, so that instead of producing the fountain of pure water

that was the object of today's Charms lesson, he let out a hoselike jet

that ricocheted off the ceiling and knocked Professor Flitwick flat on

his face.

"Whoops," said Alice sounding amused, "that sounds like something I

would do."

"Not would do," said Remus, "you have done it."

"Harry's already Apparated," Ron told a slightly abashed Seamus,

after Professor Flitwick had dried himself off with a wave of his wand

and set Seamus lines: "I am a wizard, not a baboon brandishing a

stick." "Dum — er — someone took him. Side-Along-Apparition, you

know."

"Whoa!" whispered Seamus, and he, Dean, and Neville put their heads

a little closer to hear what Apparition felt like. For the rest of the day,

Harry was besieged with requests from the other sixth years to describe

the sensation of Apparition.

"What I don't understand," said Lily, "is that if side-along apparition is

possible and people can do it, why don't parents do it on their children

rather than flooing or riding broomsticks? I know you need a special license

for it, but why don't more people get them."

"Couple of reasons Ms Evans," answered Albus, "one apparating with

children can be very dangerous, as children lack the ability to focus or clear

their minds which increases the risk of splinching, it is illegal to apparate

with a child under 11 years, although there are provisos for extenuating

circumstances. Secondly apparition is a difficult art to master, side-along

even more so, very few wizards and witches have the skill level, or the

magical ability to take more than one person safely, even then it is usually

only over short distances. Very few wizards, myself being one, have

mastered the art of side-along apparition can do it over long distances."

Hermione smirked, remembering something Harry mentioned about the

expedition to the coast later on that year, "so what would the chances be of

someone our age to side-along apparate someone across Britain, say to

Dover or something?"

"They would be very slim indeed, Hermione," said Minerva, "I doubt

anyone outside of Albus would be able to achieve such a feat."

"Oh," said Hermione, it appeared that the laws of magic were just another

set of rules which Harry regularly broke.

All of them seemed awed, rather than put off, when he told them how

uncomfortable it was, and he was still answering detailed questions at

ten to eight that evening, when he was forced to lie and say that he

needed to return a book to the library, so as to escape in time for his

lesson with Dumbledore.

"Of course the idiots are awed," said Severus, "none of their parents would

be able to do it and they are probably wondering who took him."

"Given what was just revealed, I doubt it was hard to piece together," said

Frank.

"For a normal person perhaps," said Severus, "however most people, which

includes all Gryffindors, are utter idiots."

"Aww," said Lily, faking hurt, "surely there are some exceptions to that,

remember who you are in a room with."

Severus snorted, and although he knew he would probably regret saying

this, "of course, apologies Smith, I didn't mean to include you with the other

imbeciles."

The room was gobsmacked, which was just the reaction Severus was

aiming for.

"Why thank you Sevvy, it is about time people realised how superior I am

to everyone," said Alice with a devilish smile, then she turned to the

marauders and brandished a baguette which appeared on the table, "begone

fiends, otherwise my minions will rise up and destroy you leaving you to

face the ultimate wrath... a pissed off Lily Evans!"

Most of the room was now in hysterical laughter at Alice's display.

"I'm sorry," drawled Severus, amused, "I never meant to imply that you

were superior, merely that instead of having the brains of a goldfish like

your compatriots, you have the intelligence of plankton."

The lamps in Dumbledore's office were lit, the portraits of previous

headmasters were snoring gently in their frames, and the Pensieve was

ready upon the desk once more. Dumbledore's hands lay on either side

of it, the right one as blackened and burnt-looking as ever. It did not

seem to have healed at all and Harry wondered, for perhaps the

hundredth time, what had caused such a distinctive injury, but did not

ask; Dumbledore had said that he would know eventually and there

was, in any case, another subject he wanted to discuss. But before

Harry could say anything about Snape and Malfoy, Dumbledore spoke.

"I hear that you met the Minister of Magic over Christmas?"

"Yes," said Alice, "and he didn't even offer to dress up like Santa and let

them take photos."

"Yes," said Harry. "He's not very happy with me."

"No," sighed Dumbledore. "He is not very happy with me either. We

must try not to sink beneath our anguish, Harry, but battle on."

Harry grinned.

"He wanted me to tell the Wizarding community that the Ministry's

doing a wonderful job."

Dumbledore smiled.

"It was Fudge's idea originally, you know. During his last days in office,

when he was trying desperately to cling to his post, he sought a meeting

with you, hoping that you would give him your support —"

"After everything Fudge did last year?" said Harry angrily. "After

Umbridge?"

"I told Cornelius there was no chance of it, but the idea did not die

when he left office. Within hours of Scrimgeour's appointment we met

and he demanded that I arrange a meeting with you —"

"So that's why you argued!" Harry blurted out. "It was in the Daily

Prophet"

"The Prophet is bound to report the truth occasionally," said

Dumbledore, "if only accidentally.

"Journalism at its finest," said Frank wistfully.

Yes, that was why we argued. Well, it appears that Rufus found a way

to corner you at last."

"He accused me of being 'Dumbledore's man through and through.'"

"How very rude of him."

"I told him I was."

Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again.

Behind Harry, Fawkes the phoenix let out a low, soft, musical cry. To

Harry's intense embarrassment, he suddenly realized that

Dumbledore's bright blue eyes looked rather watery, and stared hastily

at his own knees.

Hermione smiled, it seems that she was partially right in her assessment of

Albus Dumbledore, he did care for Harry, after all that statement would

mean nothing if he didn't value Harry to begin with.

"I would tell him the same thing," affirmed James, it was true no matter

what happened he and his family would always be behind Albus

Dumbledore fully, he was proud that his family's beliefs carried through to

the next generation, even if he wasn't there to share it himself.

Severus snorted slightly, at the display, although out of respect for the truce

going he did not say anything, however he personally thought, especially

still being cloistered in the walls of Hogwarts, Potter couldn't say

definitively who was exactly right, perhaps it was just his future as a slave

to two masters, but Severus thought completely associating yourself with

one person and following them with blind devotion was unwise. Although

he would admit that from what he knew Albus Dumbledore's side was

better than the Dark Lord's.

When Dumbledore spoke, however, his voice was quite steady.

"I am very touched, Harry."

"Scrimgeour wanted to know where you go when you're not at

Hogwarts," said Harry, still looking fixedly at his knees.

"Yes, he is very nosy about that," said Dumbledore, now sounding

cheerful, and Harry thought it safe to look up again.

"He has even attempted to have me followed. Amusing, really. He set

Dawlish to tail me. It wasn't kind. I have already been forced to jinx

Dawlish once; I did it again with the greatest regret."

"Why don't you tell them sir?" asked Lily, "not that I am questioning you or

anything."

Albus sighed, "given I don't have all the knowledge of my future self I can

only hazard a guess. It seems that circumstances in the next was are

different, as the Order no longer acts as an independent statutory body,

separate from the ministry, although like all others we are bound by the law

and do make private reports to the DMLE and Minister, at least we do

presently. Given the change in the structure of the order and previous

events, the relationship with the ministry is probably tenuous at best.

Scrimgeour, while being more competent than Cornelius, is still a politician

and reassuring the public is his number one priority, therefore any

information or actions of the Order, if known would be used to bolster his

political goals. This attitude could pose a significant problem if dealing

with sensitive information or sensitive dealings, which we do not want

known by anyone under any circumstances."

"So you don't want Scrimgeour and by extension the rest of the world,

which included death eaters and his royal darkness to know what you are

doing, which is most likely, from what we've deduced in any case, hunting

the horcruxes," surmised James.

"Correct Mr Potter, an excellent deduction" said Albus with a smile.

"So they still don't know where you go?" asked Harry, hoping for more

information on this intriguing subject, but Dumbledore merely smiled

over the top of his half-moon spectacles.

"No, they don't, and the time is not quite right for you to know either.

Now, I suggest we press on, unless there's anything else —?"

"There is, actually, sir," said Harry. "It's about Malfoy and Snape."

"Professor Snape, Harry."

"Why do you bother doing that anyway?" asked Sirius, "I am sure you all

know that we don't call you by your proper titles outside of class, seems like

a lost cause."

"It is merely good manners, Mr Black," said Minerva, "it serves a reminder

of the expectation, particularly when certain students forget to use their

manners even when in class."

"You wouldn't be talking about us, now would you Minnie?" asked Sirius

with a grin.

"Yes, sir. I overheard them during Professor Slughorns party… well, I

followed them, actually…"

Dumbledore listened to Harry's story with an impassive face. When

Harry had finished he did not speak for a few moments, then said,

"Thank you for telling me this, Harry, but I suggest that you put it out

of your mind. I do not think that it is of great importance."

"I don't think he will like hearing that," commented Remus, "Harry has

proven to be too curious for his own good."

"Not of great importance?" repeated Harry incredulously. "Professor,

did you understand —?"

"Yes, Harry, blessed as I am with extraordinary brainpower, I

understood everything you told me," said Dumbledore, a little sharply.

"I think you might even consider the possibility that I understood more

than you did. Again, I am glad that you have confided in me, but let me

reassure you that you have not told me anything that causes me

disquiet."

"I don't mean to tell you how to do your job Professor," said Sirius, "but

wasn't it proven in the last book that keeping Harry in the dark generally

has bad consequences, so shouldn't you at least tell him so that he knows

what is going on, it will be the only way to stop him from being caught up

with it and doing something stupid."

"Sirius," scolded Lily quietly, "as much as I want to agree with you,

Professor Dumbledore probably knows exactly what is happening and

probably has a reason for not telling Harry, so we should probably trust his

judgement."

Sirius didn't bother arguing, but merely shrugged, as if to say you keep your

opinion, I'll keep mine.

Harry sat in seething silence, glaring at Dumbledore. What was going

on? Did this mean that Dumbledore had indeed ordered Snape to find

out what Malfoy was doing, in which case he had already heard

everything Harry had just told him from Snape? Or was he really

worried by what he had heard, but pretending not to be?

"So, sir," said Harry, in what he hoped was a polite, calm voice, "you

definitely still trust —?"

"I have been tolerant enough to answer that question already," said

Dumbledore, but he did not sound very tolerant anymore. "My answer

has not changed."

"Yes," sneered Severus, "despite my personality flaws, I am not a complete

bastard, I am sorry to disappoint your friend, but I can be honourable

sometimes and I am trustworthy and not the villain he so dearly wishes me

to be."

"I should think not," said a snide voice; Phineas Nigellus was evidently

only pretending to be asleep. Dumbledore ignored him.

"And now, Harry, I must insist that we press on. I have more important

things to discuss with you this evening."

Harry sat there feeling mutinous. How would it be if he refused to

permit the change of subject, if he insisted upon arguing the case

against Malfoy? As though he had read Harry's mind, Dumbledore

shook his head.

"Ah, Harry, how often this happens, even between the best of friends!

Each of us believes that what he has to say is much more important

than anything the other might have to contribute!"

"I doubt it would be legimacy," smiled Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling,

"after so many years as a headmaster, I have become rather proficient in the

language of teenage boys."

"I don't think what you've got to say is unimportant, sir," said Harry

stiffly.

"Well, you are quite right, because it is not," said Dumbledore briskly.

"I have two more memories to show you this evening, both obtained

with enormous difficulty, and the second of them is, I think, the most

important I have collected."

Harry did not say anything to this; he still felt angry at the reception

his confidences had received, but could not see what was to be gained

by arguing further.

"So," said Dumbledore, in a ringing voice, "we meet this evening to

continue the tale of Tom Riddle, whom we left last lesson poised on the

threshold of his years at Hogwarts. You will remember how excited he

was to hear that he was a wizard, that he refused my company on a trip

to Diagon Alley, and that I, in turn, warned him against continued

thievery when he arrived at school. Well, the start of the school year

arrived and with it came Tom Riddle, a quiet boy in his secondhand

robes, who lined up with the other first years to be sorted. He was

placed in Slytherin House almost the moment that the Sorting Hat

touched his head," continued Dumbledore,

Severus shivered slightly, he could see the uncanny resemblance between

them at that moment, it was not a pleasant feeling knowing that he had

something in common with the person who murdered his Lily, his best

friend and the debatable love of his life.

waving his blackened hand toward the shelf over his head where the

Sorting Hat sat, ancient and unmoving. "How soon Riddle learned that

the famous founder of the House could talk to snakes, I do not know —

perhaps that very evening. The knowledge can only have excited him

and increased his sense of self-importance.

"However, if he was frightening or impressing fellow Slytherins with

displays of Parseltongue in their common room, no hint of it reached

the staff. He showed no sign of outward arrogance or aggression at all.

As an unusually talented and very good-looking orphan, he naturally

drew attention and sympathy from the staff almost from the moment of

his arrival. He seemed polite, quiet, and thirsty for knowledge. Nearly

all were most favourably impressed by him."

"Didn't you tell them, sir, what he'd been like when you met him at the

orphanage?" asked Harry.

"No, I did not. Though he had shown no hint of remorse, it was possible

that he felt sorry for how he had behaved before and was resolved to

turn over a fresh leaf. I chose to give him that chance."

"Why?"

Albus sighed, "because people need second chances and who are we to

deny them that opportunity, after all who knows how many other dark lords

may have existed if they weren't given a wake up call and a second chance."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, she wondered if he was talking about

himself and how he most likely woke up after the death of his sister and

took advantage of a second chance. It seemed that the views of Albus

Dumbledore in this case gave some interesting insights into his psyche.

Dumbledore paused and looked inquiringly at Harry, who had opened

his mouth to speak. Here, again, was Dumbledore's tendency to trust

people in spite of overwhelming evidence that they did not deserve it!

But then Harry remembered something…

"But you didn't really trust him, sir, did you? He told me… the Riddle

who came out of that diary said, 'Dumbledore never seemed to like me

as much as the other teachers did.'"

"Let us say that I did not take it for granted that he was trustworthy,"

said Dumbledore. "I had, as I have already indicated, resolved to keep

a close eye upon him, and so I did. I cannot pretend that I gleaned a

great deal from my observations at first. He was very guarded with me;

he felt, I am sure, that in the thrill of discovering his true identity he

had told me a little too much. He was careful never to reveal as much

again, but he could not take back what he had let slip in his excitement,

nor what Mrs. Cole had confided in me. However, he had the sense

never to try and charm me as he charmed so many of my colleagues.

"As he moved up the school, he gathered about him a group of

dedicated friends; I call them that, for want of a better term, although

as I have already indicated, Riddle undoubtedly felt no affection for

any of them. This group had a kind of dark glamour within the castle.

They were a motley collection; a mixture of the weak seeking

protection, the ambitious seeking some shared glory, and the thuggish

gravitating toward a leader who could show them more refined forms

of cruelty. In other words, they were the forerunners of the Death

Eaters, and indeed some of them became the first Death Eaters after

leaving Hogwarts.

"Rigidly controlled by Riddle, they were never detected in open

wrongdoing, although their seven years at Hogwarts were marked by a

number of nasty incidents to which they were never satisfactorily

linked, the most serious of which was, of course, the opening of the

Chamber of Secrets, which resulted in the death of a girl. As you know,

Hagrid was wrongly accused of that crime.

"How come none of the other teachers noticed?" asked Frank, "some of

them, Slughorn surely, must have taught back then and seen what was

happening."

Albus sighed, "indeed it is true, however people believe what they want to

believe, I daresay many of the teachers were blinded by Tom's charming

persona and refused to associate such things with him, many of the students

are the same. His charm and charisma is something which has served him

well throughout life, and will continue to do so I daresay."

"I have not been able to find many memories of Riddle at Hogwarts,"

said Dumbledore, placing his withered hand on the Pensieve. "Few who

knew him then are prepared to talk about him; they are too terrified.

What I know, I found out after he had left Hogwarts, after much

painstaking effort, after tracing those few who could be tricked into

speaking, after searching old records and questioning Muggle and

wizard witnesses alike.

Those whom I could persuade to talk told me that Riddle was obsessed

with his parentage. This is understandable, of course; he had grown up

in an orphanage and naturally wished to know how he came to be

there. It seems that he searched in vain for some trace of Tom Riddle

senior on the shields in the trophy room, on the lists of prefects in the

old school records, even in the books of Wizarding history. Finally he

was forced to accept that his father had never set foot in Hogwarts. I

believe that it was then that he dropped the name forever, assumed the

identity of Lord Voldemort, and began his investigations into his

previously despised mother's family — the woman whom, you will

remember, he had thought could not be a witch if she had succumbed

to the shameful human weakness of death.

James Potter put on his thinking face, as he pondered that last statement.

Lord Voldemort seemed obsessed with gaining immortality, could the

foundation of this obsession be the death of his mother... an interesting

thought, especially considering he never thought he would ever try and

rationalise the motives of a dark lord, however there wasn't much else to do

in the room so he had no choice but to think and overthink everything, not

being able to take charge or take action was killing him.

"All he had to go upon was the single name 'Marvolo,' which he knew

from those who ran the orphanage had been his mother's father's

name. Finally, after painstaking research, through old books of

Wizarding families, he discovered the existence of Slytherin's surviving

line. In the summer of his sixteenth year, he left the orphanage to which

he returned annually and set off to find his Gaunt relatives. And now,

Harry, if you will stand…"

Dumbledore rose, and Harry saw that he was again holding a small

crystal bottle filled with swirling, pearly memory.

Regulus raised his eyebrows, "this should be an interesting memory."

"Indeed," said Albus, looking intrigued, "I have not come into possession of

it yet."

Frank was thinking back to information about Voldemort's family given in

the first book, "would this be about the point in the timeline, where we

suspect he murders his muggle family?"

"I would say so," said Albus, "would you please read on Ms Evans." The

headmaster's curiosity about this memory was palpable.

"I was very lucky to collect this," he said, as he poured the gleaming

mass into the Pensieve. "As you will understand when we have

experienced it. Shall we?"

Harry stepped up to the stone basin and bowed obediently until his face

sank through the surface of the memory; he felt the familiar sensation

of falling through nothingness and then landed upon a dirty stone floor

in almost total darkness.

It took him several seconds to recognize the place, by which time

Dumbledore had landed beside him. The Gaunts' house was now more

indescribably filthy than anywhere Harry had ever seen. The ceiling

was thick with cobwebs, the floor coated in grime; mouldy and rotting

food lay upon the table amidst a mass of crusted pots. The only light

came from a single guttering candle placed at the feet of a man with

hair and beard so overgrown Harry could see neither eyes nor mouth.

He was slumped in an armchair by the fire, and Harry wondered for a

moment whether he was dead. But then there came a loud knock on the

door and the man jerked awake, raising a wand in his right hand and a

short knife in his left.

The door creaked open. There on the threshold, holding an old-

fashioned lamp, stood a boy Harry recognized at once: tall, pale, dark-

haired, and handsome — the teenage Voldemort.

Voldemort's eyes moved slowly around the hovel and then found the

man in the armchair. For a few seconds they looked at each other, then

the man staggered upright, the many empty bottles at his feet clattering

and tinkling across the floor.

"YOU!"he bellowed. "YOU!"

"Why is he yelling at him?" asked Lily, "I thought this was their first

meeting."

"He looks like his muggle father, remember Lils," prompted James,

thinking back to previous information given about the younger Voldemort.

And he hurtled drunkenly at Riddle, wand and knife held aloft.

"Stop."

Riddle spoke in Parseltongue. The man skidded into the table, sending

mouldy pots crashing to the floor. He stared at Riddle. There was a

long silence while they contemplated each other. The man broke it.

"You speak it?"

"Yes, I speak it," said Riddle.

"Obviously," said Severus sarcastically.

He moved forward into the room, allowing the door to swing shut

behind him. Harry could not help but feel a resentful admiration for

Voldemort's complete lack of fear.

"Considering the Gaunts aren't the best wizards, teenage Riddle could

probably duel circles around him. Given his future actions, he doesn't really

seem to be one who has an aversion to violence, after all he is about to

commit patricide, so killing his cousin probably won't labour his conscience

too much," said Sirius.

His race merely expressed disgust and, perhaps, disappointment.

"Where is Marvolo?" he asked.

"Dead," said the other. "Died years ago, didn't he?"

Riddle frowned.

"Who are you, then?"

"I'm Morfin, ain't I?"

"Marvolo's son?"

"'Course I am, then…"

Morfin pushed the hair out of his dirty face, the better to see Riddle,

and Harry saw that he wore Marvolo's black-stoned ring on his right

hand.

"The same one as in the headmaster's office," added Remus.

"I thought you was that Muggle," whispered Morfin. "You look mighty

like that Muggle."

"What Muggle?" said Riddle sharply.

"That Muggle what my sister took a fancy to, that Muggle what lives in

the big house over the way,"said Morfin, and he spat unexpectedly upon

the floor between them. "You look right like him. Riddle. But he's older

now, in 'e? He's older'n you, now I think on it…"

Morfin looked slightly dazed and swayed a little, still clutching the edge

of the table for support. "He come back, see," he added stupidly.

Voldemort was gazing at Morfin as though appraising his possibilities.

Now he moved a little closer and said, "Riddle came back?"

"Ar, he left her, and serve her right, marrying filth!" said Morfin,

spitting on the floor again. "Robbed us, mind, before she ran off.,

where's the locket, eh, where's Slytherin's locket?"

"She is his sister!" said Lily looking disgusted, "surely she is worth more

than some trinket, shouldn't he be concerned about the fact that she was left

alone to die in the streets of London?"

Voldemort did not answer. Morfin was working himself into a rage

again; he brandished his knife and shouted, "Dishonoured us, she did,

that little slut! And who're you, coming here and asking questions

about all that? It's over, innit… It's over…"

He looked away, staggering slightly, and Voldemort moved forward. As

he did so, an unnatural darkness fell, extinguishing Voldemort's lamp

and Morfin's candle, extinguishing everything…

"End of the memory," observed Alice.

Dumbledore's fingers closed tightly around Harry's arm and they were

soaring back into the present again. The soft golden light in

Dumbledore's office seemed to dazzle Harry's eyes after that

impenetrable darkness.

"Is that all?" said Harry at once. "Why did it go dark, what

happened?"

"Because Morfin could not remember anything from that point

onward," said Dumbledore, gesturing Harry back into his seat. "When

he awoke next morning, he was lying on the floor, quite alone.

Marvolo's ring had gone.

"I wonder who took that?" asked Severus sarcastically.

"Meanwhile, in the village of Little Hangleton, a maid was running

along the High Street, screaming that there were three bodies lying in

the drawing room of the big house: Tom Riddle Senior and his mother

and father.

"Apparently he was in the mood for patricide with some paternal

grandparents for kicks and giggles to finish the night off on a high note,"

said Alice, "that is... wrong."

"Patricide is wrong, murder is wrong," drawled Severus, "I'm glad that they

teach you something in Gryffindor."

"They have to teach it somewhere," retorted James, "after all it seems they

skipped that lesson in Slytherin."

"The Muggle authorities were perplexed. As far as I am aware, they do

not know to this day how the Riddles died, for the Avada Kedavra

curse does not usually leave any sign of damage… The exception sits

before me," Dumbledore added, with a nod to Harry's scar. "The

Ministry, on the other hand, knew at once that this was a wizard's

murder. They also knew that a convicted Muggle-hater lived across the

valley from the Riddle house, a Muggle-hater who had already been

imprisoned once for attacking one of the murdered people.

"So the Ministry called upon Morfin. They did not need to question

him, to use Veritaserum or Legilimency.

"Seems to be the ministry's way," commented Sirius bitterly.

He admitted to the murder on the spot, giving details only the

murderer could know. He was proud, he said, to have killed the

Muggles, had been awaiting his chance all these years. He handed over

his wand, which was proved at once to have been used to kill the

Riddles. And he permitted himself to be led off to Azkaban without a

fight. All that disturbed him was the fact that his father's ring had

disappeared. 'He'll kill me for losing it,' he told his captors over and

over again. 'He'll kill me for losing his ring.' And that, apparently, was

all he ever said again. He lived out the remainder of his life in Azkaban,

lamenting the loss of Marvolo's last heirloom, and is buried beside the

prison, alongside the other poor souls who have expired within its

walls."

"So he remembers murdering them, by the sounds of it in excruciating

depth, but can't remember how he lost a ring... definitely dodgy," said

James, "probably a memory charm."

"So Voldemort stole Morfin's wand and used it?" said Harry, sitting up

straight.

"That's right," said Dumbledore. "We have no memories to show us

this, but I think we can be fairly sure what happened. Voldemort

Stupefied his uncle, took his wand, and proceeded across the valley to

'the big house over the way.' There he murdered the Muggle man who

had abandoned his witch mother, and, for good measure, his Muggle

grandparents, thus obliterating the last of the unworthy Riddle line and

revenging himself upon the father who never wanted him. Then he

returned to the Gaunt hovel, performed the complex bit of magic that

would implant a false memory in his uncle's mind, laid Morfin's wand

beside its unconscious owner, pocketed the ancient ring he wore, and

departed."

"And Morfin never realized he hadn't done it?"

"Never," said Dumbledore. "He gave, as I say, a full and boastful

confession."

"But he had this real memory in him all the time!"

"But why bother searching for something, which you don't know is there,"

summed up Remus.

"Yes, but it took a great deal of skilled Legilimency to coax it out of

him," said Dumbledore, "and why should anybody delve further into

Morfin's mind when he had already confessed to the crime? However, I

was able to secure a visit to Morfin in the last weeks of his life, by

which time I was attempting to discover as much as I could about

Voldemort's past. I extracted this memory with difficulty. When I saw

what it contained, I attempted to use it to secure Morfin's release from

Azkaban. Before the Ministry reached their decision, however, Morfin

had died."

"But how come the Ministry didn't realize that Voldemort had done all

that to Morfin?" Harry asked angrily "He was underage at the time,

wasn't he? I thought they could detect underage magic!"

"Only if they aren't around non-magic users," said Sirius, "bless pure-blood

prejudice and favouritism by the ministry."

"You are quite right — they can detect magic, but not the perpetrator:

You will remember that you were blamed by the Ministry for the Hover

Charm that was, in fact, cast by —"

"Dobby," growled Harry; this injustice still rankled. "So if you're

underage and you do magic inside an adult witch or wizard's house, the

Ministry won't know?"

"They will certainly be unable to tell who performed the magic," said

Dumbledore, smiling slightly at the look of great indignation on Harrys

face. "They rely on witch and wizard parents to enforce their

offspring's obedience while within their walls."

"Some do," said Alice, "it seems that the Weasleys might to an extent,

however most don't. Particularly given the present political climate, most

parents are happy to help their children train over the holidays and to

improve their skills. However there are other families, not mentioning any

names, like the Black family, which openly admit to exploiting the loophole

provided."

"That is wrong," said Lily, "I understand the first part of why it isn't

enforced, but given that the threat of Riddle is mostly to muggle-borns, isn't

it more important that we also are able to receive training to help in case of

an emergency."

"Well, that's rubbish," snapped Harry. "Look what happened here,

look what happened to Morfin!"

"I agree," said Dumbledore. "Whatever Morfin was, he did not deserve

to die as he did, blamed for murders he had not committed. But it is

getting late, and I want you to see this other memory before we part…"

"Two for one this session," said Alice, "why things are moving fast now."

Dumbledore took from an inside pocket another crystal phial and

Harry fell silent at once, remembering that Dumbledore had said it was

the most important one he had collected. Harry noticed that the

contents proved difficult to empty into the Pensieve, as though they had

congealed slightly; did memories go bad?

"This will not take long," said Dumbledore, when he had finally

emptied the phial. "We shall be back before you know it. Once more

into the Pensieve, then…"

And Harry fell again through the silver surface, landing this time right

in front of a man he recognized at once. It was a much younger Horace

Slughorn. Harry was so used to him bald that he found the sight of

Slughorn with thick, shiny, straw-coloured hair quite disconcerting; it

looked as though he had had his head thatched, though there was

already a shiny Galleon-sized bald patch on his crown. His mustache,

less massive than it was these days, was gingery-blond. He was not

quite as round as the Slughorn Harry knew, though the golden buttons

on his richly embroidered waistcoat were taking a fair amount of

strain. His little feet resting upon a velvet pouffe, he was sitting well

back in a comfortable winged armchair, one hand grasping a small

glass of wine, the other searching through a box of crystallized

pineapple.

Harry looked around as Dumbledore appeared beside him and saw

that they were standing in Slughorn's office. Half a dozen boys were

sitting around Slughorn, all on harder or lower seats than his, and all

in their mid-teens. Harry recognized Voldemort at once. His was the

most handsome face and he looked the most relaxed of all the boys.

"Shouldn't you be worried about the fact your son is calling other boys

handsome?" queried Alice.

"Eww," said Lily, "that is seriously too far that time Al, seriously, that is an

accursed dark lord you are referring to... that is wrong."

His right hand lay negligently upon the arm of his chair; with a jolt,

Harry saw that he was wearing Marvolo's gold-and-black ring; he had

already killed his father.

"Sir, is it true that Professor Merrythought is retiring?" he asked.

"Tom, Tom, if I knew I couldn't tell you," said Slughorn, wagging a

reproving, sugar-covered finger at Riddle, though ruining the effect

slightly by winking. "I must say, I'd like to know where you get your

information, boy, more knowledgeable than half the staff, you are."

"Which pretty much confirmed the piece of information," said James.

Riddle smiled; the other boys laughed and cast him admiring looks.

"What with your uncanny ability to know things you shouldn't, and

your careful flattery of the people who matter — thank you for the

pineapple, by the way, you're quite right, it is my favourite —"

As several of the boys tittered, something very odd happened.

"Did they breakout into a barbershop quartet, while Slughorn and Riddle

turned into tap-dancing penguins?" guessed Alice.

Lily snorted, "not quite."

The whole room was suddenly filled with a thick white fog, so that

Harry could see nothing but the face of Dumbledore, who was standing

beside him. Then Slughorn's voice rang out through the mist,

unnaturally loudly, "You'll go wrong, boy, mark my words."

The fog cleared as suddenly as it had appeared and yet nobody made

any allusion to it, nor did anybody look as though anything unusual

had just happened.

"Sounds like it has been tampered with," said Frank, "I remember one of the

ministry lawyers who came round for dinner saying that it was possible and

that sounds like one which has been done crudely."

Bewildered, Harry looked around as a small golden clock standing

upon Slughorn's desk chimed eleven o'clock.

"Good gracious, is it that time already?" said Slughorn. "You'd better

get going, boys, or we'll all be in trouble. Lestrange, I want your essay

by tomorrow or its detention. Same goes for you, Avery."

"Two founding garbage munchers I presume," said Sirius.

"No wonder both families are in so deep with the Dark Lord, if their parents

were founding members," said Regulus.

"Their relative offspring have also always been very public about recruiting

for the cause," added Severus.

Slughorn pulled himself out of his armchair and carried his empty

glass over to his desk as the boys filed out. Voldemort, however, stayed

behind. Harry could tell he had dawdled deliberately, wanting to be last

in the room with Slughorn.

"Look sharp, Tom," said Slughorn, turning around and finding him

still present. "You don't want to be caught out of bed out of hours, and

you a prefect…"

"Sir, I wanted to ask you something."

"Ask away, then, m'boy, ask away…"

"Sir, I wondered what you know about… about Horcruxes?"

"We were right," said Regulus, "bugger. That is going to be a pain to get

around then, I was actually hoping we were wrong."

"I wonder how Sluggy would react to that," said Frank, "I doubt that is the

question he expected to come out of Riddle's mouth, or the mouth of any

student for that matter. Probably regrets letting him ask the question now."

And it happened all over again: The dense fog filled the room so that

Harry could not see Slughorn or Voldemort at all; only Dumbledore,

smiling serenely beside him. Then Slughorn's voice boomed out again,

just as it had done before.

"I don't know anything about Horcruxes and I wouldn't tell you if I

did! Now get out of here at once and don't let me catch you mentioning

them again!"

"Definitely sounds like an altered memory then," said Severus, "our

illustrious head of house is hiding something."

"I think we know where Riddle got his information from," surmised Remus.

"How on earth would Slughorn know about horcruxes of all things, he is a

potions master for Merlin's sake!" said James.

"I guess we can only read on and see," said Minerva, looking distinctly

annoyed at the contribution her colleague, perhaps unknowingly, made

towards to creation of the worst dark lord in British history.

"Well, that's that," said Dumbledore placidly beside Harry. "Time to

go."

And Harry's feet left the floor to fall, seconds later, back onto the rug in

front of Dumbledore's desk.

"That's all there is?" said Harry blankly.

Dumbledore had said that this was the most important memory of all,

but he could not see what was so significant about it. Admittedly the

fog, and the fact that nobody seemed to have noticed it, was odd, but

other than that nothing seemed to have happened except that

Voldemort had asked a question and failed to get an answer.

"Of course," said Remus, "Harry doesn't know what horcruxes are at that

point, so he wouldn't understand the significance of it."

"As you might have noticed," said Dumbledore, reseating himself

behind his desk, "that memory has been tampered with."

"Tampered with?" repeated Harry, sitting back down too.

"Certainly," said Dumbledore. "Professor Slughorn has meddled with

his own recollections."

"But why would he do that?"

"Because, I think, he is ashamed of what he remembers," said

Dumbledore. "He has tried to rework the memory to show himself in a

better light, obliterating those parts which he does not wish me to see.

It is, as you will have noticed, very crudely done, and that is all to the

good, for it shows that the true memory is still there beneath the

alterations.

"Of course," said Frank, "it seems that the original memory has been

covered up, rather than completely changed or removed, so it is still there

beneath the surface."

"And so, for the first time, I am giving you homework, Harry. It will be

your job to persuade Professor Slughorn to divulge the real memory,

which will undoubtedly be our most crucial piece of information of

all."

Harry stared at him.

"But surely, sir," he said, keeping his voice as respectful as possible,

"you don't need me — you could use Legilimency… or Veritaserum…"

"Professor Slughorn is an extremely able wizard who will be expecting

both," said Dumbledore. "He is much more accomplished at

Occlumency than poor Morfin Gaunt, and I would be astonished if he

has not carried an antidote to Veritaserum with him ever since I

coerced him into giving me this travesty of a recollection.

"When would that have been, Sir?" asked Remus.

"I don't know," said Albus, "I was unaware of Horace's contribution to this

aspect of Tom's uprising, probably after his downfall when I started

investigating why he wasn't truly dead."

"Could that be why the death eaters might be after Professor Slughorn?"

asked Lily, "to protect the knowledge about their master's quest for

immorality."

"Most likely," agreed Albus with a nod.

"No, I think it would be foolish to attempt to wrest the truth from

Professor Slughorn by force, and might do much more harm than

good; I do not wish him to leave Hogwarts. However, he has his

weaknesses like the rest of us, and I believe that you are the one person

who might be able to penetrate his defences. It is most important that

we secure the true memory, Harry… How important, we will only

know when we have seen the real thing. So, good luck… and good

night."

"Why is it so important, though?" asked James, "we know that he probably

made horcruxes, which was confirmed when he asked, why is the rest of the

memory so important."

"If it wasn't important, I doubt Slughorn would have hidden it," rebuked

Severus with a sneer, "besides we suspect that he has more than one,

perhaps that is what the conversation is about or might tell us."

"How many does he have?" asked Alice. Hermione decided not to answer,

besides it would be interesting to hear what they said.

The room all put on their thinking faces for a few moments pondering the

possibilities.

"At least 2, given the information already gathered," said Remus, digging

through the notes he had made throughout.

"I would say three," said Regulus, "as three is a magically important

number, and the Dark Lord would probably like the symbolism. Also

because assuming that diary was one, I'd say the ring would be the other,

considering it is heavily featured in the memories, and has been destroyed,

given the huge crack mentioned in it."

"That brings the count up to two, brother," said Sirius, "you are missing

one."

"I know," said Regulus, "I can count remember. That is two that have been

destroyed, if that was all there was, I don't know if we would be having

horcrux lessons, which leads me to presume that there is one more out there

which needs destroying."

"But what?"

"Perhaps the locket," suggested Alice, "it has been mentioned a few times."

The room fell silent. It seemed that a general consensus about the number

of horcruxes was reached, only Hermione knew that although they were

close, they had missed the mark entirely, by four to be precise, but she

figured they could learn that when Harry did too, a bit of suspense never

hurt anyone.

A little taken aback by the abrupt dismissal, Harry got to his feet

quickly. "Good night, sir."

As he closed the study door behind him, he distinctly heard Phineas

Nigellus say, "I can't see why the boy should be able to do it better than

you, Dumbledore."

"I wouldn't expect you to, Phineas," replied Dumbledore, and Fawkes

gave another low, musical cry.

"That is because my son is awesome," said James.

"Also Slughorn is prone to flattery and people who stroke his ego, Harry

would be able to that better than anyone," said Lily.

James snorted, "while that probably works, surely it would just be easier to

get him drunk. In vino veritas and all that."

"Men," said Lily shaking her head, "you have no sense of finesse."

"Which is why I need you Lily my love," replied James with a smile.

Alice mimed vomiting.

"Hypocrite," commented Remus to Alice.

"Shall we continue?" asked Albus.

"That was the end of the chapter," said Lily, passing the book onto James.

"That means it is my turn once more," said James, turning to the next

chapter.

AN: Thanks for reading, please review! Cheers!

18. Chapter 18

Birthday Surprises

AN: I will make this short. Yes I know updates are slower, but I am

insanely busy but will try and do at least one a week. Here is the next one

for your enjoyment. Thanks to those who have reviewed, it is much

appreciated. As usual I own nothing. Cheers!

"This looks fun," said James, "it is called Birthday Surprises."

"Really!" said Hermione sitting up straighter, looking excited, "good I've

been looking forward to hearing about this." Hermione realised that this

was the chapter where Ron suddenly fell in love with Romilda Vane.

Ordinarily she would be worried, she mused, but she already knew it would

take more than a bit of poison to kill Ron, or for Harry to let Ron be killed,

so she knew it ended well, however she never got the full story of the love

potion incident and she was sure it was going to be a bright spot on what

would fast descend into a rather heavy and depressing spiral of calamity.

"Whose birthday?" asked Lily, curiously.

"Won-Won's," said Hermione with a smile, "it was an interesting one at

that, I don't think you could ever say that Ron didn't come of age with a

bang."

"I am curious now," whined Sirius.

"Good," said Hermione, poking her tongue out.

The next day Harry confided in both Ron and Hermione the task that

Dumbledore had set him, though separately, for Hermione still refused

to remain in Ron's presence longer than it took to give him a

contemptuous look.

"Someone is touchy," commented Sirius.

"Is it that time of the month?" asked James innocently, a remark which

necessitated him to duck when a cushion shaped missile headed towards his

head, although he need not have worried about moving as sport had never

been Hermione's strong point and she accidentally hit Sirius, who was

sitting next to him, something which caused no small amount of amusement

in the room

"Shut up," pouted Hermione

"At least we know why you don't play chaser," commented Sirius, rubbing

his forehead.

"You mean apart from that I hate flying on broomsticks?" said Hermione.

"What do you like to fly on then?" asked Regulus with a grin.

Hermione smirked and in a mysterious voice uttered one word, "dragons."

This caused the entire room to burst into laughter, thinking that she was

yanking their collective chain, after all when would she have ever had the

chance to ride a dragon... Poor deluded souls.

Ron thought that Harry was unlikely to have any trouble with

Slughorn at all.

"He loves you," he said over breakfast, waving an airy forkful of fried

egg. "Won't refuse you anything, will he? Not his little Potions Prince.

Just hang back after class this afternoon and ask him. "

"Probably not the best idea," said Albus, "I have known Horace for many

years and he takes deceptively prodigious care of himself and any secrets he

holds, I daresay more finesse will be required, which I am sure young Harry

will be capable of providing."

Hermione couldn't resist a snort, finesse generally wasn't a term she would

associate with Harry, who had the subtly of a frying pan to the head, a trait

shared by most teenage males.

Hermione, however, took a gloomier view.

"He must be determined to hide what really happened if Dumbledore

couldn't get it out of him," she said in a low voice, as they stood in the

deserted, snowy courtyard at break. "Horcruxes… Horcruxes… I've

never even heard of them…"

"Not surprising," said Regulus, "after all they aren't something which are

taught in schools, for good reason, there are probably only a dozen people

in magical Britain who know they exist, excluding those in the room

anyway. They are also only taught in depth in two books and referenced

fleetingly in only two or so other very dark books."

"How would Riddle have heard about them then?" asked James, "after all

he already had heard of them before heading to Slughorn, so where did he

initially learn about them."

"There was a copy of one of the books Regulus mentioned in the library

until I began my tenure as headmaster, at which point I removed it and

destroyed it so no others would be able to access the information," stated

Albus, "Tom could have read about them in this particular book, I believe it

was an in depth analysis of necromancy and other methods of preserving

life and immorality."

"You destroyed it?" asked Hermione looking confused, where did she get

the copy in her handbag from then, the book Albus mentioned didn't sound

like the book she had either.

"Indeed, I did not feel it was appropriate to have in a school and as

Hogwarts books are charmed to be unable to leave the school, I decided the

only way to stop it from either being reinstated on the shelves or else

retrieved by errant students was to destroy it," said Albus serenely, his mind

thinking about the implications of Hermione's question, it appeared they

had access to another copy of such a book in her future.

"You haven't?"

Harry was disappointed; he had hoped that Hermione might have been

able to give him a clue as to what Horcruxes were.

"They must be really advanced Dark magic, or why would Voldemort

have wanted to know about them? I think it's going to be difficult to get

the information, Harry, you'll have to be very careful about how you

approach Slughorn, think out a strategy…"

"Ron reckons I should just hang back after Potions this afternoon…"

"Oh, well, if Won-Won thinks that, you'd better do it," she said, flaring

up at once. "After all, when has Won-Won's judgment ever been

faulty?"

"Definitely PMSing," commented Alice, "I feel sorry for your boyfriend

Mie."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"How come Smith can say that and I can't?" asked James.

"Because you are male," said Hermione.

"And you say I am sexist."

"Hermione, can't you —"

"No!" she said angrily, and stormed away, leaving Harry alone and

ankle-deep in snow.

Potions lessons were uncomfortable enough these days, seeing as Harry,

Ron and Hermione had to share a desk. Today, Hermione moved her

cauldron around the table so that she was close to Ernie, and ignored

both Harry and Ron.

"What've you done?" Ron muttered to Harry, looking at Hermione's

haughty profile.

"What has Harry done?" asked Hermione looking offended at, "while he

was a contributing factor, Ronald also was a huge reason for my attitude."

But before Harry could answer, Slughorn was calling for silence from

the front of the room.

"Settle down, settle down, please! Quickly, now, lots of work to get

through this afternoon! Golpalott's Third Law…who can tell me —?

But Miss Granger can, of course!"

Hermione recited at top speed: "Golpalott's-Third-Law- states-that-

the-antidote-for-a-blended-poison-will-be-equal-to-more-than-the-sum-

of-the-antidotes-for-each-of-the-separate- components."

"Precisely!" beamed Slughorn. "Ten points for Gryffindor! Now, if we

accept Golpalott's Third Law as true…"

Harry was going to have to take Slughorn's word for it that Golpalott's

Third Law was true, because he had not understood any of it. Nobody

apart from Hermione seemed to be following what Slughorn said next,

either.

"And how many books did you have to inhale before you reached that

point?" asked Severus.

"Only three," said Hermione meekly, "it would have only been two if one of

them didn't propose a different approach to the application... Oh shut up!"

"… which means, of course, that assuming we have achieved correct

identification of the potion's ingredients by Scarpin's Revelaspell, our

primary aim is not the relatively simple one of selecting antidotes to

those ingredients in a of themselves, but to find that added component

which will, by an almost alchemical process, transform these disparate

elements —"

Ron was sitting beside Harry with his mouth half open, doodling

absently on his new copy of Advanced Potion-Making. Ron kept

forgetting that he could no longer rely on Hermione to help him out of

trouble when he failed to grasp what was going on.

"… and so," finished Slughorn, "I want each of you to come and take

one of these phials from my desk. You are to create an antidote for the

poison within it before the end of the lesson. Good luck, and don't

forget your protective gloves!"

Hermione had left her stool and was halfway towards Siughorn's desk

before the rest of the class had realized it was time to move, and by the

time Harry, Ron and Ernie returned to the table, she had already

tipped the contents of her phial into her cauldron and was kindling a

fire underneath it.

"It's a shame that the Prince won't be able to help you much with this,

Harry," she said brightly as she straightened up. "You have to

understand the principles involved this time. No short cuts or cheats!"

"Someone is eager," commented Remus dryly.

Hermione shrugged, "it did kind of annoy me that Harry was doing so well

with so little work, however I knew that his theory wasn't as good as mine

and he hadn't done research on it to help him understand, I saw it as a

chance to... prove my worth ."

"Why does it annoy you that other people, particularly Harry do better than

you?" asked Lily.

Hermione shrugged, "it is kind of stupid now, but I knew from the start that

I wasn't going to fit in properly at Hogwarts because I was a muggle-born,

so I always worked hard to justify my right be there, so it kind of annoyed

me when anyone, not just Harry, did things so well without having to do the

same amount of work as I did."

"That is still no excuse to take it out on my son," pointed out Lily.

"I know," said Hermione with a smile, "if it makes it a bit better I do feel

bad about the fact that I was quite a bitch during that year."

Annoyed, Harry uncorked the poison he had taken from Sliughorn's

desk, which was a garish shade of pink, tipped it into his cauldron and

lit a fire underneath it. He did not have the faintest idea what he was

supposed to do next. He glanced at Ron, who was now standing there

looking rather gormless, having copied everything Harry had done.

"You sure the Prince hasn't got any tips?" Ron muttered to Harry.

Severus smiled, this could be interesting, he knew what he had written in

that chapter, while he understood the concept completely, Hermione was

right that time, there was no cure for being able to completely understand

the theory.

Harry pulled out his trusty copy of Advanced Potion-Making and

turned to the chapter on Antidotes. There was Golpalott's Third Law,

stated word for word as Hermione had recited it, but not a single

illuminating note in the Prince's hand to explain what it meant.

Apparently the Prince, like Hermione, had had no difficulty

understanding it.

"No, not that the Prince wouldn't have understood it," said Lily, "but there

isn't much you can add to it."

"Nothing," said Harry gloomily.

Hermione was now waving her wand enthusiastically over her

cauldron. Unfortunately, they could not copy the spell she was doing

because she was now so good at non-verbal incantations that she did

not need to say the words aloud.

Ernie Macmillan, however, was muttering, "Specialis revelio!" over his

cauldron, which sounded impressive, so Harry and Ron hastened to

imitate him.

"Imbeciles," said Severus, "that reveals spells, it is completely ineffective

against potions."

It took Harry only five minutes to realize that his reputation as the best

potion-maker in the class was crashing around his ears. Slughorn had

peered hopefully into his cauldron on his first circuit of the dungeon,

preparing to exclaim in delight as he usually did, and instead had

withdrawn his head hastily, coughing, as the smell of bad eggs

overwhelmed him. Hermione's expression could not have been any

smugger; she had loathed being out-performed in every Potions class.

She was now decanting the mysteriously separated ingredients of her

poison into ten different crystal phials.

"While I don't know what poisons you have," said Sirius, "I have the

distinct impression that your work is over-kill."

"It was," admitted Hermione sheepishly, "I was trying to impress

Slughorn."

"Really?" asked Sirius, "why in Merlin's name would you want to do that? I

used to purpose screw up my potions so he wouldn't fawn over me like a

sycophantic walrus."

"Used to?" asked Hermione pointedly.

Sirius smiled and jabbed a thumb in Lily's direction, "she wouldn't let me

do it, apparently when one is partnered with Lily Evans you have no choice

but to do the potion correctly otherwise you risk damage to life and limb."

More to avoid watching this irritating sight than anything else, Harry

bent over the Half-Blood Prince's book and turned a few pages with

unnecessary force. And there it was, scrawled right across a long list of

antidotes.

Just shove a bezoar down their throats.

Lily couldn't help but burst out laughing, that was something Severus would

say, she could see it. Bezoars were his cure for everything, and she meant

almost everything, as he admitted since entering the room that he used them

to help get rid of hangovers.

Harry stared at these words for a moment. Hadn't he once, long ago,

heard of bezoars? Hadn't Snape mentioned them in their first ever

Potions lesson? "A stone taken from the stomach of a goat, which will

protect from most poisons."

Of course Severus would mention his blessed stones on the first lesson to

every class, thought Lily suppressing a snort.

It was not an answer to the Golpalott problem, and had Snape still

been their teacher, Harry would not have dared do it, but this was a

moment for desperate measures. He hastened towards the store

cupboard and rummaged within it, pushing aside unicorn horns and

tangles of dried herbs until he found, at the very back, a small card box

on which had been scribbled the word Bezoars.

He opened the box just as Slughorn called, "Two minutes left,

everyone!" Inside were half a dozen shrivelled brown objects, looking

more like dried-up kidneys than real stones. Harry seized one, put the

box back in the cupboard and hurried back to his cauldron.

"Time's… UP!" called Slughorn genially. "Well, let's see how you've

done! Blaise… what have you got for me?"

Slowly, Slughorn moved around the room, examining the various

antidotes. Nobody had finished the task, although Hermione was trying

to cram a few more ingredients into her bottle before Slughorn reached

her. Ron had given up completely, and was merely trying to avoid

breathing in the putrid fumes issuing from his cauldron. Harry stood

there waiting, the bezoar clutched in a slightly sweaty hand.

Slughorn reached their table last. He sniffed Ernie's potion and passed

on to Ron's with a grimace. He did not linger over Ron's cauldron, but

backed away swiftly, retching slightly.

"And you, Harry," he said. "What have you got to show me?"

Harry held out his hand, the bezoar sitting on his palm.

Slughorn looked down at it for a full ten seconds. Harry wondered, for

a moment, whether he was going to shout at him. Then he threw back

his head and roared with laughter.

"You've got a nerve, boy!" he boomed, taking the bezoar and holding it

up so that the class could see it. "Oh, you're like your mother… well, I

can't fault you… a bezoar would certainly act as an antidote to all these

potions!"

Snape felt vindicated, his reliance on bezoars was once again proven to be

right.

"I don't think Mie is going to like this though," commented Sirius.

Hermione, who was sweaty-faced and had soot on her nose, looked

livid.

"Told you," said Sirius, "never doubt my inner eye."

Her half-finished antidote, comprising fifty-two ingredients including a

chunk of her own hair, bubbled sluggishly behind Slughorn, who had

eyes for nobody but Harry.

"And you thought of a bezoar all by yourself, did you, Harry?" she

asked through gritted teeth.

"That's the individual spirit a real potion-maker needs!" said Slughorn

happily, before Harry could reply. "Just like his mother, she had the

same intuitive grasp of potion-making, it's undoubtedly from Lily he

gets it… yes, Harry, yes, if you've got a bezoar to hand, of course that

would do the trick… although as they don't work on everything, and

are pretty rare, it's still worth knowing how to mix antidotes…"

The only person in the room looking angrier than Hermione was

Malfoy, who, Harry was pleased to see, had spilled something that

looked like cat sick over himself. Before either of them could express

their fury that Harry had come top of the class by not doing any work,

however, the bell rang.

"Time to pack up!" said Slughorn. "And an extra ten points to

Gryffindor for sheer cheek!" Still chuckling, he waddled back to his

desk at the front of the dungeon.

"I wouldn't be surprised if he gave Harry points just for being related to the

lovely Miss Evans," commented Alice.

Harry dawdled behind, taking an inordinate amount of time to do up

his bag. Neither Ron nor Hermione wished him luck as they left; both

looked rather annoyed. At last Harry and Slughorn were the only two

left in the room.

"Come on, now, Harry, you'll be late for your next lesson," said

Slughorn affably, snapping the gold clasps shut on his dragonskin

briefcase.

"Sir," said Harry, reminding himself irresistibly of Voldemort, "I

wanted to ask you something."

"Ask away, then, my dear boy, ask away…"

"Sir, I wondered what you know about… about Horcruxes?"

Slughorn froze. His round face seemed to sink in upon itself. He licked

his lips and said hoarsely, "What did you say?"

"Oh bother, this won't be fun."

"I asked whether you know anything about Horcruxes, sir. You see — "

"Dumbledore put you up to this," whispered Slughorn.

His voice had changed completely. It was not genial any more, but

shocked, terrified. He fumbled in his breast pocket and pulled out a

handkerchief, mopping his sweating brow.

"Dumbledore's shown you that — that memory," said Slughorn.

"Well? Hasn't he?"

"Yes," said Harry, deciding on the spot that it was best not to lie.

"Yes, of course," said Slughorn quietly, still dabbing at his white face.

"Of course… well, if you've seen that memory, Harry, you'll know that

I don't know anything — anything" — he repeated the word forcefully

— "about Horcruxes."

"Liar," sang Alice under her breath.

"He must have said something pretty bad if he is that petrified," said Frank.

He seized his dragonskin briefcase, stuffed his handkerchief back into

his pocket and marched to the dungeon door.

"Sir," said Harry desperately, "I just thought there might be a bit more

to the memory -"

"Did you?" said Slughorn. "Then you were wrong, weren't you?

WRONG!"

He bellowed the last word and, before Harry could say another word,

slammed the dungeon door behind him.

Neither Ron nor Hermione was at all sympathetic when Harry told

them of this disastrous interview. Hermione was still seething at the

way Harry had triumphed without doing the work properly. Ron was

resentful that Harry hadn't slipped him a bezoar, too.

"It would've just looked stupid if we'd both done it!" said Harry

irritably.

"Look, I had to try and soften him up so I could ask him about

Voldemort, didn't I? Oh, will you get a grip!" he added in exasperation,

as Ron winced at the sound of the name.

Infuriated by his failure and by Ron and Hermione's attitudes, Harry

brooded for the next few days over what to do next about Slughorn. He

decided that, for the time being, he would let Slughorn think that he

had forgotten all about Horcruxes; it was surely best to lull him into a

false sense of security before returning to the attack. When Harry did

not question Slughorn again, the Potions master reverted to his usual

affectionate treatment of him, and appeared to have put the matter

from his mind.

"Looks can be deceiving," commented Minvera, "for all his other faults,

Horace is not stupid."

Harry awaited an invitation to one of his little evening parties,

determined to accept this time, even if he had to reschedule Quidditch

practice. Unfortunately, however, no such invitation arrived. Harry

checked with Hermione and Ginny: neither of them had received an

invitation and nor, as far as they knew, had anybody else. Harry could

not help wondering whether this meant that Slughorn was not quite as

forgetful as he appeared, simply determined to give Harry no

additional opportunities to question him.

Meanwhile, the Hogwarts library had failed Hermione for the first lime

in living memory. She was so shocked, she even forgot that she was

annoyed at Harry for his trick with the bezoar, "I haven't found one

single explanation of what Horcruxes do!" she told him. "Not a single

one! I've been right through the restricted section and even in the most

horrible books, where they tell you how to brew the most gruesome

potions — nothing! All I could find was this, in the introduction to

Magick Mostc Evile — listen — 'Of the Horcrux, wickedest of magical

inventions, we shall not speak nor give direction'… I mean, why

mention it, then?" she said impatiently, slamming the old book shut; it

let out a ghostly wail. "Oh, shut up," she snapped, stuffing it back into

her bag.

"While I am sorry that the library has failed you," said Albus, "knowing

what you do about horcruxes now, would you condone having such a book

available to be read by the student populous at large?"

"No," agreed Hermione.

The snow melted around the school as February arrived, to be replaced

by cold, dreary wetness. Purplish-grey clouds hung low over the castle

and a constant fall of chilly rain made the lawns slippery and muddy.

The upshot of this was that the sixth-years' first Apparition lesson,

which was scheduled for a Saturday morning so that no normal lessons

would be missed, took place in the Great Hall instead of in the grounds.

When Harry and Hermione arrived in the Hall (Ron had come down

with Lavender)they found that the tables had disappeared. Rain lashed

against the high windows and the enchanted ceiling swirled darkly

above them as they assembled in front of Professors McGonagall,

Snape, Flitwick and Sprout — the Heads of House — and a small

wizard whom Harry took to be the Apparition Instructor from the

Ministry. He was oddly colourless, with transparent eyelashes,

"Transparent or splinched off?" asked someone.

wispy hair and an insubstantial air, as though a single gust of wind

might blow him away. Harry wondered whether constant

disappearances and reappearances had somehow diminished his

substance, or whether this frail build was ideal for anyone wishing to

vanish.

"Good morning," said the Ministry wizard, when all the students had

arrived and the Heads of House had called for quiet. "My name is

Wilkie Twycross and I shall be your Ministry Apparition Instructor for

the next twelve weeks. I hope to be able to prepare you for your

Apparition test in this time —"

"Malfoy, be quiet and pay attention!" barked Professor McGonagall.

Everybody looked round. Malfoy had flushed a dull pink; he looked

furious as he stepped away from Crabbe, with whom he appeared to

have been having a whispered argument. Harry glanced quickly at

Snape, who also looked annoyed, though Harry strongly suspected that

this was less because of Malfoy's rudeness than the fact that

McGonagall had reprimanded one of his house.

"— by which time, many of you may be ready to take your test,"

Twycross continued, as though there had been no interruption.

"As you may know, it is usually impossible to Apparate or Disapparate

within Hogwarts. The Headmaster has lifted this enchantment, purely

within the Great Hall, for one hour, so as to enable you to practice. May

I emphasize that you will not be able to Apparate outside the walls of

this Hall, and that you would be unwise to try.

"I would like each of you to place yourselves now so that you have a

clear five feet of space in front of you."

There was a great scrambling and jostling as people separated, banged

into each other, and ordered others out of their space. The Heads of

House moved among the students, marshalling them into position and

breaking up arguments.

"Harry, where are you going?" demanded Hermione.

"To visit his lover," said Alice.

"He doesn't have a lover," pointed out James, "not for lack of desire for a

certain redhead though, my son has good taste."

But Harry did not answer; he was moving quickly through the crowd,

past the place where Professor Flitwick was making squeaky attempts

to position a few Ravenclaws, all of whom wanted to be near the front,

past Professor Sprout, who was chivvying the Hufflepuffs into line,

until, by dodging around Ernie Macmillan, he managed to position

himself right at the back of the crowd, directly behind Malfoy, who was

taking advantage of the general upheaval to continue his argument

with Crabbe, standing five feet away and looking mutinous.

"See I was right," said Alice triumphantly.

"Get this through your head Ali," said Lily, "Draco Malfoy is not and never

will be my son's lover!"

"I'm sure Harry will be glad of that reassurance," said Hermione dryly,

finding Alice's weird sense of humour rather exciting, she could imagine

Harry's reaction if he heard her... it would be amusing, well for everyone

but Alice in anycase.

"I don't know how much longer, all right?" Malfoy shot at him,

oblivious to Harry standing right behind him. "It's taking longer than I

thought it would."

"Ah the plotting," said Lily, "seems Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are in on

it too."

"Who is Rose and Gilderoy?" asked James, looking completely baffled.

"Characters from a famous muggle play called 'Hamlet'," explained Lily.

"To be or not to be, that is the question," said Hermione, quoting the well

known Shakespearean line.

Crabbe opened his mouth, but Malfoy appeared to second-guess what

he was going to say.

"Look, it's none of your business what I'm doing, Crabbe, you and

Goyle just do as you're told and keep a lookout!"

"I tell my friends what I'm up to, if I want them to keep a lookout for

me," Harry said, just loud enough for Malfoy to hear him.

Malfoy spun round on the spot, his hand flying to his wand, but at that

precise moment the four Heads of House shouted, "Quiet!" and silence

fell again. Malfoy turned slowly to face the front.

"Thank you," said Twycross. "Now then…"

He waved his wand. Old-fashioned wooden hoops instantly appeared

on the floor in from of every student.

"The important things to remember when Apparating are the three

D's!" said Twycross. "Destination, Determination, Deliberation!

"Seems the teaching method hasn't changed," commented Frank.

Minerva actually snorted, "it was the same when I was a student, so I

wouldn't be surprised if it remains the teaching method for another century

or so."

"Well considering everyone in the room, aside from baby Reggie can

apparate, the method is probably effective, even if boring as Binns and the

1886 goblin-troll wars," said Sirius, "mind you I always found just

visualising where you want to go is the most important thing."

"Step one: fix your mind firmly upon the desired destination," said

Twycross. "In this case, the interior of your hoop. Kindly concentrate

upon that destination now."

Everybody looked around furtively, to check that everyone else was

staring into their hoop, then hastily did as they were told. Harry gazed

at the circular patch of dusty floor enclosed by his hoop and tried hard

to think of nothing else. This proved impossible, as he couldn't stop

puzzling over what Malfoy was doing that needed lookouts.

"Step two," said Twycross, "focus your determination to occupy the

visualised space! Let your yearning to enter it flood from your mind to

every particle of your body! "

Harry glanced around surreptitiously. A little way to his left, Ernie

Macmillan was contemplating his hoop so hard that his face had turned

pink; it looked as though he was straining to lay a Quaffle-sized egg.

Harry bit back a laugh and hastily returned his gaze to his own hoop.

"Step three," called Twycross, "only when I give the command… turn

on the spot, feeling your way into nothingness, moving with

deliberation. On my command, now… one —"

Harry glanced around again; lots of people were looking positively

alarmed at being asked to Apparate so quickly.

"— two — "

Harry tried to fix his thoughts on his hoop again; he had already

forgotten what the three D's stood for.

"Dumb, dumber and dumbest," suggested Severus.

"— THREE!"

Harry spun on the spot, lost his balance and nearly fell over. He was

not the only one. The whole Hall was suddenly full of staggering

people; Neville was flat on his back; Ernie Macmillan, on the other

hand, had done a kind of pirouetting leap into his hoop and looked

momentarily thrilled, until he caught sight of Dean Thomas roaring

with laughter at him.

"Whoops," chuckled Lily, "you would think he would feel the whole chest

compression thing if he did manage it, oh well pride can distort the mental

faculties at times, so we might as well forgive him."

"Never mind, never mind," said Twycross dryly, who did not seem to

have expected anything better. "Adjust your hoops, please, and back to

your original positions…"

The second attempt was no better than the first. The third was just as

bad. Not until the fourth did anything exciting happen. There was a

horrible screech of pain and everybody looked around, terrified, to see

Susan Bones of Hufflepuff wobbling in her hoop with her left leg still

standing five feet away where she had started.

"That is Amelia's niece, correct?" said Minerva, "she might have got a

primer on apparition before the lessons, after all if you know what to do,

when you are in danger she would probably be able to apparate away safely

enough, after all fleeing for your life would make you pretty determined."

The Heads of House converged on her; there was a great bang and a

puff of purple smoke, which cleared to reveal Susan sobbing, reunited

with her leg but looking horrified.

"Doesn't matter," said Frank with a shrug, "everyone splinches at least once

when training, it is better to do it there than out in the real world."

"Harry didn't" said Hermione proudly, "it took him a few lessons before

something happened, but once he figured it all out in his head he had no

trouble with it, didn't even splinch once... bastard, he just miraculously

appeared in his circle."

"I'm guessing you splinched?" deduced James.

"Only once," said Hermione, "once I did it, I became determined not to do it

again, after that I was fine, I think that was the lesson before Harry

managed, so we both succeeded in the same lesson."

"Splinching, or the separation of random body parts," said Wilkie

Twycross dispassionately, "occurs when the mind is insufficiently

determined. You must concentrate continually upon your destination,

and move, without haste, but with deliberation… thus."

Twycross stepped forwards, turned gracefully on the spot with his arms

outstretched and vanished in a swirl of robes, reappearing at the back

of the Hall. "Remember the three D's," he said, "and try again… one

— two — three"

But an hour later, Susan's Splinching was still the most interesting

thing that had happened. Twycross did not seem discouraged.

Fastening his cloak at his neck, he merely said, "Until next Saturday,

everybody, and do not forget: Destination. Determination.

Deliberation."

With that, he waved his wand, Vanishing the hoops, and walked out of

the Hall accompanied by Professor McGonagall. Talk broke out at once

as people began moving towards the Entrance Hall.

"How did you do?" asked Ron, hurrying towards Harry. "I think I felt

something the last time I tried — a kind of tingling in my feet."

"I expect your trainers are too small, Won-Won," said a voice behind

them, and Hermione stalked past, smirking.

"I didn't feel anything," said Harry, ignoring this interruption. "But I

don't care about that now-"

"What d'you mean, you don't care… don't you want to learn to

Apparate?" said Ron incredulously.

"I'm not fussed, really. I prefer flying," said Harry, glancing over his

shoulder to see where Malfoy was, and speeding up as they came into

the Entrance Hall. "Look, hurry up, will you, there's something I want

to do…"

Perplexed, Ron followed Harry back to Gryffindor Tower at a run.

They were temporarily detained by Peeves, who had jammed a door on

the fourth floor shut and was refusing to let anyone pass until they set

fire to their own pants, but Harry and Ron simply turned back and

took one of their trusted shortcuts. Within five minutes, they were

climbing through the portrait hole.

"Are you going to tell me what we're doing, then?" asked Ron, panting

slightly.

"Up here," said Harry, and he crossed the common room and led the

way through the door to the boys' staircase.

Their dormitory was, as Harry had hoped, empty. He flung open his

trunk and began to rummage in it, while Ron watched impatiently.

"Harry…"

"Malfoy's using Crabbe and Goyle as lookouts. He was arguing with

Crabbe just now. I want to know… aha."

He had found it, a folded square of apparently blank parchment, which

he now smoothed out and tapped with the tip of his wand. "I solemnly

swear that I am up to no good… or Malfoy is,"

At once, the Marauder's Map appeared on the parchment's surface.

Here was a detailed plan of every one of the castle's floors and, moving

around it, the tiny, labelled black dots that signified each of the castle's

occupants.

"Help me find Malfoy," said Harry urgently.

"You should have installed a search function on it so you could find

people," said Hermione, "it would have made life so much easier."

"We did, but it is passworded," said James with a shrug.

"What is the password?" asked Hermione.

The three marauders in the room has what appeared to be a silent

conversation, which eventually deemed Hermione worthy of the

knowledge, after all she knew a lot about it already and was deeply

involved in the marauder legacy, so Remus leaned in and whispered it into

her ear, after all it was a well-guarded Marauder secret, "In the name of

chaos, madness and desire, the location of ... I solemnly require."

Hermione snorted, "very lyrical, it is unique, I thought it would just be 'I

solemnly swear to find...'"

"It would be too easy to guess," said Remus with a shrug, "besides we were

feeling creative at the time."

Hermione looked puzzled for a moment before whispering back to Remus,

"why desire?"

"Guess who was using the map to stalk a certain redhead at the time, "

answered Remus with a grin.

He laid the map upon his bed and he and Ron leaned over it, searching.

"There!" said Ron, after a minute or so. "He's in the Slytherin common

room, look… with Parkinson and Zabini and Crabbe and Goyle…"

Harry looked down at the map, disappointed, but rallied almost at

once.

"Well, I'm keeping an eye on him from now on," he said firmly. "And

the moment I see him lurking somewhere with Crabbe and Goyle

keeping watch outside, it'll be on with the old Invisibility Cloak and off

to find out what he's —"

He broke off as Neville entered the dormitory, bringing with him a

strong smell of singed material, and began rummaging in his trunk for

a fresh pair of pants.

"Why was my son on fire?" asked Alice slowly.

"I don't even think I want to know," said Frank with a sigh.

Despite his determination to catch Malfoy out, Harry had no luck at all

over the next couple of weeks. Although he consulted the map as often

as he could, sometimes making unnecessary visits to the bathroom

between lessons to search it, he did not once see Malfoy anywhere

suspicious. Admittedly, he spotted Crabbe and Goyle moving around

the castle on their own more often than usual, sometimes remaining

stationary in deserted corridors, but at these times Malfoy was not only

nowhere near them, but impossible to locate on the map at all.

This was most mysterious. Harry toyed with the possibility that Malfoy

was actually leaving the school grounds, but could not see how he could

be doing it, given the very high level of security now operating within

the castle. He could only suppose that he was missing Malfoy amongst

the hundreds of tiny black dots upon the map. As for the fact that

Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle appeared to be going their different ways

when they were usually inseparable, these things happened as people

got older — Ron and Hermione, Harry reflected sadly, were living

proof.

"Not for long though," said Hermione.

"Pity," said Regulus, "I was enjoying the repartee going back and forth."

Hermione quirked an eyebrow, "perhaps, but it was a pain in the butt for

Harry and quite frankly was rather exhausting, Ron is good at making sure I

don't get too caught up in my school work."

February moved towards March with no change in the weather except

that it became windy as well as wet. To general indignation, a sign went

up on all common-room noticeboards that the next trip into

Hogsmeade had been cancelled. Ron was furious.

"It was on my birthday!" he said, "I was looking forward to that!"

"Not a big surprise, though, is it?" said Harry. "Not after what

happened to Katie."

She had still not returned from St. Mungo's. What was more, further

disappearances had been reported in the Daily Prophet, including

several relatives of students at Hogwarts.

"But now all I've got to look forward to is stupid Apparition!" said Ron

grumpily. "Big birthday treat…"

Three lessons on, Apparition was proving as difficult as ever, though a

few more people had managed to Splinch themselves. Frustration was

running high and there was a certain amount of ill-feeling towards

Wilkie Twycross and his three D's, which had inspired a number of

nicknames for him, the politest of which were Dog-breath and Dung-

head.

"That seems to be another characteristic of apparition lessons which hasn't

changed much throughout history," said Sirius, "we had some rather

creative nicknames as well in our year."

"Which you four were personally responsible for, if I am not mistaken,"

pointed out Frank.

"Of course, that was half the fun," said James, "we had to do something to

make the lessons interesting."

"Happy birthday, Ron," said Harry, when they were woken on the first

of March by Seamus and Dean leaving noisily for breakfast. "Have a

present."

Hermione chuckled, she was looking forward to this scene.

He threw the package across on to Ron's bed, where it joined a small

pile of them that must, Harry assumed, have been delivered by house-

elves in the night.

"Cheers," said Ron drowsily, and as he ripped off the paper Harry got

out of bed, opened his own trunk and began rummaging in it for the

Marauder's Map, which he hid after every use. He turfed out half the

contents of his trunk before he found it hiding beneath the rolled-up

socks in which he was still keeping his bottle of lucky potion, Felix

Felicis.

"Right," he murmured, taking it back to bed with him, tapping it

quietly and murmuring, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," so

that Neville, who was passing the foot of his bed at the time, would not

hear.

"Nice one, Harry!" said Ron enthusiastically, waving the new pair of

Quidditch Keeper's gloves Harry had given him.

"Quidditch merchandise, always a good present," said Regulus approvingly.

"No problem," said Harry absent-mindedly, as he searched the

Slytherin dormitory closely for Malfoy. "Hey… I don't think he's in his

bed…"

Ron did not answer; he was too busy unwrapping presents, every now

and then letting out an exclamation of pleasure.

"Seriously good haul this year!" he announced, holding up a heavy gold

watch with odd symbols around the edge and tiny moving stars instead

of hands. "See what Mum and Dad got me? Blimey, I think I'll come of

age next year too…"

"Cool," muttered Harry, sparing the watch a glance before peering

more closely at the map. Where was Malfoy? He did not seem to be at

the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, eating breakfast… he was

nowhere near Snape, who was sitting in his study… he wasn't in any of

the bathrooms or in the hospital wing…

"That is a touch obsessive," said Remus.

"But for good reason, my cousin is acting suspicious and is up to

something," pointed out Sirius.

"Want one?" said Ron thickly, holding out a box of Chocolate

Cauldrons.

"No thanks," said Harry, looking up. "Malfoy's gone again!"

"Can't have done," said Ron, stuffing a second Cauldron into his

mouth as he slid out of bed to get dressed. "Come on if you don't hurry

up you'll have to Apparate on an empty-stomach… might make it

easier, I suppose…"

"Only if you suffer from nausea as a side-effect," said Minerva, "there are

wizards who have apparition sickness, as well as some with portkey

sickness, which are very similar to those in the muggle world who get car

sick, or motion sickness."

"I should have thought there would be an equivalent," mused Lily.

Ron looked thoughtfully at the box of Chocolate Cauldrons, then

shrugged and helped himself to a third.

Hermione smiled, Ron's tendency to think with his digestive system was

going to get him into trouble this time.

Harry tapped the map with his wand, muttered, "Mischief managed,"

though it hadn't been, and got dressed, thinking hard. There had to be

an explanation for Malfoy's periodic disappearances, but he simply

could not think what it could be. The best way of finding out would be

to tail him, but even with the Invisibility Cloak this was an impractical

idea; he had lessons, Quidditch practice, homework and Apparition; he

could not follow Malfoy around school all day without his absence

being remarked upon, "Ready?" he said to Ron.

He was halfway to the dormitory door when he realized that Ron had

not moved, but was leaning on his bedpost, staring out of the rain-

washed window with a strangely un-focused look on his face.

Hermione burst out laughing.

"What?" asked Lily, "what is happening? Why is Mie laughing? And why

does Ron have a blank face?"

James glanced ahead and did not bother suppressing his snort of

amusement.

"Ron? Breakfast."

"I'm not hungry."

"That's a first," said Hermione, her voice filled with mirth.

Harry stared at him.

"I thought you just said —?"

"Well, all right, I'll come down with you," sighed Ron, "but I don't

want to eat."

Harry scrutinized him suspiciously.

"You've just eaten half a box of Chocolate Cauldrons, haven't you?"

"Never stopped Ronald from eating before," said Hermione fondly, for the

most part, at least now Ron was not part of her while in the past, she found

Ron's traits rather endearing, part of what made him, after all he wouldn't be

their Ron Weasley if he didn't have the stomach of thirty garbage trucks.

"It's not that," Ron sighed again. "You… you wouldn't understand."

"Fair enough," said Harry, albeit puzzled, as he turned to open the

door.

"Harry!" said Ron suddenly.

"What?"

"Harry, I can't stand it!"

"You can't stand what?" asked Harry, now starting to feel definitely

alarmed. Ron was rather pale and looked as though he was about to be

sick.

"What on earth is going on?" asked Remus.

Hermione giggled, "you'll see, now shut up because I am enjoying hearing

about this."

"Suffice to say Moony, you will find it amusing," said James with a lop-

sided grin.

"I can't stop thinking about her!" said Ron hoarsely.

Harry gaped at him. He had not expected this and was not sure he

wanted to hear it. Friends they might be, but if Ron started calling

Lavender "Lav-Lav", he would have to put his foot down.

Alice shuddered, "if he did, I might have to start throwing up, those two

were making me nauseous just reading about their sordid tales."

"Why does that stop you having breakfast?" Harry asked, trying to

inject a note of common sense into the proceedings.

"I don't think she knows I exist," said Ron with a desperate gesture.

"Ah," said Sirius, "love potion, should be amusing."

"Who on earth would want to give a love potion to that imbecile though?"

asked Severus.

"She definitely knows you exist," said Harry, bewildered. "She keeps

snogging you, doesn't she?"

Ron blinked.

"Who are you talking about?"

"So it isn't Lavender then," deduced Frank.

"Who are you talking about?" said Harry, with an increasing sense that

all reason had dropped out of the conversation.

"Romilda Vane," said Ron softly, and his whole face seemed to

illuminate as he said it, as though hit by a ray of purest sunlight.

Hermione burst out laughing, "just give me a moment to savour that."

Most of the room joined her in her amusement at the situation which was

unfolding.

"So, he got... Harry's... potion... from that... sky-high floozy," observed Lily,

between fits of laughter at Ron's situation.

"Oh well whatever happens next should be amusing," said Remus with a

smile, "love potion pranks are always the best."

"Please do not bring that up," begged James.

"I am intrigued now," said Alice, "do tell beloved Wolfie."

"Well, it was fifth year," began Remus, Sirius this time put his head in his

hands to avoid the humiliation of the upcoming story, "and James was

pining over his unrequited love for one Miss Lily Evans, and being a

general pain in the arse, so nothing out of the ordinary. So I decided to

distract him, and give him a different case of unrequited love to deal with,

after all our beloved head boy is quite the drama king, so he would never

truly be happy if he wasn't involved in a soap-opera worthy crisis of the

heart. Seeing as I was rather angry at Sirius at the time, for reasons which

will not be disclosed, I decided that they both needed to be pranked. Long

story short, I decided to feed James a love potion for one Sirius Black, who

was then given a love potion attuned to one Peter Pettigrew, which resulted

in James pining after a freaked out Sirius, who was in turn pining for a

rather disturbed Wormy."

Most of the room returned to fits of laughter, this time at the expense of

James and Sirius. Regulus sincerely wished he got to see the results first

hand, it would have made him a very happy brother to see Sirius running

away from Potter while chasing Peter Pettigrew of all people.

"I still don't know how you got away with that," said James, recovering

from the embarrassment dealt to him and his dignity.

"He burns water Prongsie," pointed out Sirius, "there is no way Moony

would be able to brew a love potion, or any potion for that matter, so why

would we suspect him to use a love potion of all things on us?"

"As amusing as this surely is, can we return to the unlucky in love Ron

Weasley?" asked Frank.

They stared at each other for almost a whole minute, before Harry

said, "This is a joke, right? You're joking."

"I think… Harry, I think I love her," said Ron in a strangled voice.

"Okay," said Harry, walking up to Ron to get a better look at the

glazed eyes and the pallid complexion, "Okay… say that again with a

straight face."

"I love her," repeated Ron breathlessly. "Have you seen her hair, it's all

black and shiny and silky… and her eyes? Her big dark eyes? And her

"

"This is really funny and everything," said Harry impatiently, "but

joke's over, all right? Drop it."

"Can't he tell that the idiot is under a potion?" asked Severus, "it is insanely

obvious, even for a brainless lion."

He turned to leave; he had got two steps towards the door when a

crashing blow hit him on the right ear. Staggering, he looked round.

Ron's fist was drawn right back, his face was contorted with rage; he

was about to strike again.

"Why did he do that?" asked Lily, "why would he hit my son?"

Harry reacted instinctively; his wand was out of his pocket and the

incantation sprang to mind without conscious thought: Levicorpus!

Ron yelled as his heel was wrenched upwards once more; he dangled

helplessly, upside down, his robes hanging off him.

"What was that for?" Harry bellowed.

"You insulted her, Harry! You said it was a joke!" shouted Ron, who

was slowly turning purple in the face as all the blood rushed to his

head.

"The he is lucky it was Harry who dealt with him, as I probably would have

said worse, and if he punched me, well let's just say that no reconciliation

would occur between us... ever!" said Hermione.

"This is insane!" said Harry. "What's got into —?"

And then he saw the box lying open on Ron's bed and the truth hit him

with the force of a stampeding troll.

"Where did you get those Chocolate Cauldrons?"

"They were a birthday present!" shouted Ron, revolving slowly in

midair as he struggled to get free. "I offered you one, didn't I?"

"You just picked them up off the floor, didn't you?"

"They'd fallen off my bed, all right? Let me go!"

"They didn't fall off your bed, you prat, don't you understand? They

were mine, I chucked them out of my trunk when I was looking for the

map. They're the Chocolate Cauldrons Romilda gave me before

Christmas and they're all spiked with love potion!"

But only one word of this seemed to have registered with Ron.

"Romilda," sighed Sirius, girlishly mocking the idea of a simpering female.

"You are disturbingly good at that voice," observed Regulus.

"Romilda?" he repeated. "Did you say Romilda? Harry - do you know

her? Can you introduce me?"

Harry stared at the dangling Ron, whose face now looked tremendously

hopeful, and fought a strong desire to laugh. A part of him — the part

closest to his throbbing right ear - was quite keen on the idea of letting

Ron down and watching him run amok until the effects of the potion

wore off…

"That is what is father would do," said Remus.

"You would do the exact same thing if it happened to me," pointed out

James.

but on the other hand, they were supposed to be friends, Ron had not

been himself when he had attacked, and Harry thought that he would

deserve another punching if he permitted Ron to declare undying love

for Romilda Vane.

"True," said Remus, "but I am pretty sure I would do it anyway, a single

punch would be a small price to pay for the ensuing chaos."

"Yeah, I'll introduce you," said Harry, thinking fast. "I'm going to let

you down now, okay?"

He sent Ron crashing back to the floor (his ear did hurt quite a lot), but

Ron simply bounded to his feet again, grinning.

"She'll be in Slughorn's office," said Harry confidently, leading the way

to the door.

"Why will she be in there?" asked Ron anxiously, hurrying to keep up.

"Oh, she has extra Potions lessons with him," said Harry, inventing

wildly.

"Maybe I could ask if I can have them with her?" said Ron eagerly.

"Great idea," said Harry. Lavender was waiting beside the portrait

hole, a complication Harry had not foreseen.

Hermione smiled, she was rather enjoying Ron's potion induced antics, if

only they were friends at the time, she might have managed to see them first

hand, that would definitely have put her in a good mood for the rest of the

day, poisoning aside of course.

"You're late, Won-Won!" she pouted. "I've got you a birthday —"

"Leave me alone," said Ron impatiently, "Harry's going to introduce

me to Romilda Vane."

"I bet she liked that," said Frank.

And without another word to her, he pushed his way out of the portrait

hole. Harry tried to make an apologetic face to Lavender, but it might

have turned out simply amused, because she looked more offended

than ever as the Fat Lady swung shut behind them. Harry had been

slightly worried that Slughorn might be at breakfast, but he answered

his office door at the first knock, wearing a green velvet dressing-gown

and matching nightcap and looking rather bleary-eyed.

"Harry," he mumbled. "This is very early for a call… I generally sleep

late on a Saturday…"

"Professor, I'm really sorry to disturb you," said Harry as quietly as

possible, while Ron stood on tiptoe, attempting to see past Slughorn

into his room, "but my friend Ron's swallowed a love potion by

mistake. You couldn't make him an antidote, could you? I'd take him to

Madam Pomfrey, but we're not supposed to have anything from

Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and, you know… awkward questions…"

"I'd have thought you could have whipped him up a remedy, Harry, an

expert potioneer like you?" asked Slughorn.

"Er," said Harry, somewhat distracted by the fact that Ron was now

elbowing him in the ribs in an attempt to force his way into the room,

"well, I've never mixed an antidote for a love potion, sir, and by the

time I get it right Ron might've done something serious "

"And probably brewing in the same room and Rommy the vain would not

be conducive to success," added Sirus.

Helpfully, Ron chose this moment to moan, "I can't see her. Harry — is

he hiding her?"

"Was this potion within date?" asked Slughorn, now eyeing Ron with

professional interest. "They can strengthen, you know, the longer

they're kept."

"That would explain a lot," panted Harry, now positively wrestling

with Ron to keep him from knocking Slughorn over. "It's his birthday,

Professor," he added imploringly.

"Oh, all right, come in, then, come in," said Slughorn, relenting. "I've

got the necessary here in my bag, it's not a difficult antidote…"

Ron burst through the door into Slughorn's overheated, crowded study,

tripped over a tasselled footstool, regained his balance by seizing Harry

around the neck and muttered, "She didn't see that, did she?"

"She's not here yet," said Harry, watching Slughorn opening his potion

kit and adding a few pinches of this and that to a small crystal bottle.

"That's good," said Ron fervently. "How do I look?"

"Does he want the honest answer or the lie to make him feel better?" asked

Regulus.

"Very handsome," said Slughorn smoothly, handing Ron a glass of

clear liquid. "Now drink that up, it's a tonic for the nerves, keep you

calm when she arrives, you know,"

"Brilliant," said Ron eagerly, and he gulped the antidote down noisily.

Harry and Slughorn watched him. For a moment, Ron beamed at

them. Then, very slowly, his grin sagged and vanished, to be replaced

by an expression of utmost horror.

"I wish I could have seen that," said Hermione wistfully.

"Back to normal, then?" said Harry, grinning. Slughorn chuckled.

"Thanks a lot, Professor."

"Don't mention it, m'boy, don't mention it," said Slughorn, as Ron

collapsed into a nearby armchair, looking devastated. "Pick-me-up,

that's what he needs," Slughorn continued, now-bustling over to a table

loaded with drinks. "I've got butterbeer, I've got wine, I've got one last

bottle of this oak-matured mead… hmm… meant to give that to

Dumbledore for Christmas… ah well…" he shrugged "… he can't miss

what he's never had! Why don't we open it now and celebrate Mr.

Weasley's birthday? Nothing like a fine spirit to chase away the pangs

of disappointed love…"

"Idiot," said Minerva, "he should know better than to give alcohol to a

student of all people."

Hermione snorted, Minerva had no idea how true this was in that instance.

However Hermione had a feeling that the transfiguration professor would

be more than willing to drink with her students by the time the books were

done, and at many moment before then too.

He chortled again and Harry joined in. This was the first time he had

found himself almost alone with Slughorn since his disastrous first

attempt to extract the true memory from him. Perhaps, if he could just

keep Slughorn in a good mood… perhaps if they got through enough of

the oak-matured mead…

"That's the spirit," said Sirius, "literally now that I think about it."

"There you are, then," said Slughorn, handing Harry and Ron a glass

of mead each, before raising his own. "Well, a very happy birthday,

Ralph —"

"— Ron —" whispered Harry.

But Ron, who did not appear to be listening to the toast, had already

thrown the mead into his mouth and swallowed it. There was one

second, hardly more than a heartbeat, in which Harry knew there was

something terribly wrong and Slughorn, it seemed, did not.

"What's wrong?" asked Lily worriedly. James looked down, it seems that

the end could be quite near, but seeing as Hermione was not worried or in

tears or holding the arm of Regulus Black in a death grip he assumed that

everything would turn out okay.

"— and may you have many more —"

"Ron!"

Ron had dropped his glass; he half-rose from his chair and then

crumpled, his extremities jerking uncontrollably. Foam was dribbling

from his mouth and his eyes were bulging from their sockets.

"He's been poisoned!" said Lily with wide-eyes, stating the obvious.

Severus decided it wasn't the right moment to respond with a 'duh'.

"Professor!" Harry bellowed. "Do something!"

But Slughorn seemed paralysed by shock. Ron twitched and choked:

his skin was turning blue.

"Some good he is in an emergency," said Sirius darkly.

Severus idly wondered which poison would cause that reaction, he could

think of five off the top of his head, though there were probably many more.

"What — but —" spluttered Slughorn.

"Yes," said Sirius, "because spluttering is always so productive and saves

lives."

Harry leapt over a low table and sprinted towards Slughorn's open

potion kit, pulling out jars and pouches, while the terrible sound of

Ron's gargling breath filled the room. Then he found it - the shrivelled

kidney-like stone Slughorn had taken from him in Potions.

"Good boy," said Severus, nothing like a good bezoar to solve all potion

problems.

He hurtled back to Ron's side, wrenched open his jaw and thrust the

bezoar into his mouth. Ron gave a great shudder, a rattling gasp and

his body became limp and still.

"And that is the end of the chapter," said James.

"That was a rather sombre note to end on," said Remus, "I am assuming that

he is alright."

Hermione nodded, "as you could probably guess considering I have spoken

a bit about things that happen in the future with Ron, and for things to

happen, such as reconciliation he actually needs to be alive."

"Just to be clear, you aren't the one who is trying to murder Slughorn or

Ron in a fit of anger or jealously are you?" teased Regulus.

Hermione shot him a smile and proceeded to discipline him for the

unseemly remark by trying to knock some sense into him, literally. "Though

I had thought of it, so no I cannot claim the credit for those actions," said

Hermione with a tight grin.

"More importantly," said Frank, "who is the person who is trying to off

Hogwarts staff and pupils?"

"I have a fairly shrewd idea," said James, "the syphilitic, albino ferret."

"May I point out," said Alice idly, "in order for Malferret to be a syphilitic

ferret, he would have actually had to find someone willing to sleep with

him."

"So did not need that image right now Ali," said Frank cringing, an action

shared by most in the room, awkward silence ensued until Sirius broke it.

"Well, only one way to find out more about the mysterious murder and

mayhem," said Sirius, palm outstretched, "so hit me up Prongsie, it is my

turn to read."

AN: Thanks for reading, please review! Cheers!

19. Chapter 19

Elf Tails

AN: Thanks for reading, here is the next chapter. I know I am slower than

normal, but I am working on it, I am at uni and my end of semester

workload is greater than anytime I have to do it in. I hope you enjoy the

chapter anyway. I own nothing you recognise. Happy reading! Cheers!

Sirius stared down at the and looked slightly confused at the title, "This

chapter is called Elf Tails, which is kind of weird as last time I checked

Elves don't have tails."

"Probably, tale as in story you idiot," said James rolling his eyes.

"Look at the spelling, it is spelt T-A-I-L, not T-A-L-E, I am not that stupid,"

said Sirius.

"Could have fooled me," murmured Severus to himself.

James leaned over and had a look, "so it is, what can I say homophones are

a pain the butt, how was I suppose to know?"

"I don't know, Prongs, perhaps by listening to me?" asked Sirius

sarcastically.

"So, all in all, not one of Ron's better birthdays?" said Fred.

"Oh well, I guess that means he is still alive," said Lily, "not that we didn't

already know that though."

It was evening; the hospital wing was quiet, the windows curtained, the

lamps lit. Ron's was the only occupied bed. Harry, Hermione, and

Ginny were sitting around him; they had spent all day waiting outside

the double doors, trying to see inside whenever somebody went in or

out. Madam Pomfrey had only let them enter at eight o'clock. Fred and

George had arrived at ten past.

"This isn't how we imagined handing over our present," said George

grimly, putting down a large wrapped gift on Ron's bedside cabinet

and sitting beside Ginny.

"Yeah, when we pictured the scene, he was conscious," said Fred.

"There we were in Hogsmeade, waiting to surprise him —" said

George.

"Perhaps it is a good thing Ron was in hospital then," commented Frank.

"You were in Hogsmeade?" asked Ginny, looking up.

"We were thinking of buying Zonko's," said Fred gloomily.

"Business must be going well then."

"A Hogsmeade branch, you know, but a fat lot of good it'll do us if you

lot aren't allowed out at weekends to buy our stuff anymore… But

never mind that now."

He drew up a chair beside Harry and looked at Ron's pale face.

"How exactly did it happen, Harry?"

Harry retold the story he had already recounted, it felt like a hundred

times to Dumbledore, to McGonagall, to Madam Pomfrey, to

Hermione, and to Ginny.

"… and then I got the bezoar down his throat and his breathing eased

up a bit, Slughorn ran for help,

"I assume that means he stopped spluttering and managed to do something

constructive," commented Remus.

McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey turned up, and they brought Ron up

here. They reckon he'll be all right. Madam Pomfrey says he'll have to

stay here a week or so… keep taking essence of rue…"

"Blimey, it was lucky you thought of a bezoar," said George in a low

voice.

"Lucky there was one in the room," said Harry, who kept turning cold

at the thought of what would have happened if he had not been able to

lay hands on the little stone.

"He wasn't the only one," said Hermione, "as annoyed at Ron as I may have

been I don't want the idiot dead, I am too fond of him to do that."

Hermione gave an almost inaudible sniff. She had been exceptionally

quiet all day. Having hurtled, white-faced, up to Harry outside the

hospital wing and demanded to know what had happened. she had

taken almost no part in Harry and Ginny's obsessive discussion about

how Ron had been poisoned, but merely stood beside them, clench-

jawed and frightened-looking, until at last they had been allowed in to

see him.

"I was scared," admitted Hermione, "I didn't want him to die thinking I

hated him."

"Do Mum and Dad know?" Fred asked Ginny.

"They've already seen him, they arrived an hour ago — they're in

Dumbledore's office now, but they'll be back soon…"

There was a pause while they all watched Ron mumble a little in his

sleep.

"So the poison was in the drink?" said Fred quietly.

"Yes," said Harry at once; he could think of nothing else and was glad

for the opportunity to start discussing it again. "Slughorn poured it out

—"

"Would he have been able to slip something into Ron's glass without

you seeing?"

"Probably," said Harry, "but why would Slughorn want to poison

Ron?"

"No idea," said Fred, frowning. "You don't think he could have mixed

up the glasses by mistake? Meaning to get you?"

"Why would Slughorn want to poison Harry?" asked Ginny.

"I dunno," said Fred, "but there must be loads of people who'd like to

poison Harry, mustn't there? 'The Chosen One' and all that?"

"So you think Slughorn's a Death Eater?" said Ginny.

"Not the type," said Minerva shaking her head.

"Anything's possible," said Fred darkly.

"He could be under the Imperius Curse," said George.

"Or he could be innocent," said Ginny. "The poison could have been in

the bottle, in which case it was probably meant for Slughorn himself."

"But wasn't the bottle meant to go to Albus for Christmas," pointed out

Minerva.

"It seems we have found Draco's mission then," said Regulus, "to eliminate

the headmaster, I suppose it is logical, I've honestly wondered why he hasn't

done it before now."

"We don't know for certain, how could Malfoy know it for Dumbledore, but

even if he did, he won't succeed will he?" asked Lily, "after all it is

Professor Dumbledore, so Draco would be able to do it, not even the Dark

Lord himself has managed to do that in either time period, so we are

probably safe." Lily smiled and seemed slightly more assured now. A few

people exchanged glances at her naivety and ability to delude herself.

Whether Malfoy succeeded or not, it was going to make the rest of the book

a lot more tense.

"Who'd want to kill Slughorn?"

"Dumbledore reckons Voldemort wanted Slughorn on his side," said

Harry. "Slughorn was in hiding for a year before he came to Hogwarts.

And…" He thought of the memory Dumbledore had not yet been able

to extract from Slughorn. "And maybe Voldemort wants him out of the

way, maybe he thinks he could be valuable to Dumbledore."

"But you said Slughorn had been planning to give that bottle to

Dumbledore for Christmas," Ginny reminded him. "So the poisoner

could just as easily have been after Dumbledore."

"Ah logic," said Frank, breathing a sigh of relief, "I was wondering when

you would get there."

"Then the poisoner didn't know Slughorn very well," said Hermione,

speaking for the first time in hours and sounding as though she had a

bad head cold. "Anyone who knew Slughorn would have known there

was a good chance he'd keep something that tasty for himself."

"I guess that is the point though," said Frank, "If it is Draco, and we a

running by the assumption that the bottle was intended for Professor

Dumbledore, which is not for certain, well Draco probably doesn't know

Slughorn very well, after all he isn't a Slug and Snape is still his head of

house, he wouldn't know much about Sluggy's magpie like tendencies."

"Er-my-nee," croaked Ron unexpectedly from between them.

"He's awake!" said Lily.

They all fell silent, watching him anxiously, but after muttering

incomprehensibly for a moment he merely started snoring.

"Not for long apparently," said James.

The dormitory doors flew open, making them all jump: Hagrid came

striding toward them, his hair rain-flecked, his bearskin coat flapping

behind him, a crossbow in his hand, leaving a trail of muddy dolphin-

sized footprints all over the floor.

"Bin in the forest all day!" he panted. "Aragog's worse, I bin readin' to

him — didn' get up ter dinner till jus' now an' then Professor Sprout

told me abou' Ron! How is he?"

"Not bad," said Harry. "They say he'll be okay."

"No more than six visitors at a time!" said Madam Pomfrey, hurrying

out of her office.

"Hagrid makes six," George pointed out.

"Oh… yes…" said Madam Pomfrey, who seemed to have been counting

Hagrid as several people due to his vastness. To cover her confusion,

she hurried off to clear up his muddy foot prints with her wand.

"I don' believe this," said Hagrid hoarsely, shaking his great shaggy

head as he stared down at Ron. "Jus' don' believe it… Look at him

lyin' there… Who'd want ter hurt him, eh?"

"That's just what we were discussing," said Harry. "We don't know."

"Someone couldn' have a grudge against the Gryfinndor Quidditch

team, could they?" said Hagrid anxiously. "Firs' Katie, now Ron…"

"Interesting idea," said James, eying the younger Black up and down,

having Regulus Black the Slytherin captain and seeker out of commission

would make it much easier to win the upcoming match against Slytherin.

Lily whacked him across the head, "don't even think about it."

"I can't see anyone trying to bump off a Quidditch team," said George.

"Wood might've done the Slytherins if he could've got away with it,"

said Fred fairly.

"Well, I don't think it's Quidditch, but I think there's a connection

between the attacks," said Hermione quietly

"How d'you work that out?" asked Fred.

"Well, for one thing, they both ought to have been fatal and weren't,

although that was pure luck. And for another, neither the poison nor

the necklace seems to have reached the person who was supposed to be

killed. Of course," she added broodingly, "that makes the person

behind this even more dangerous in a way, because they don't seem to

care how many people they finish off before they actually reach their

victim."

"Surely you must know it is Draco," said James, "why are you letting him

stay in school."

"I daresay I fear for his life if he is forced to leave, and that would also

force Severus to complete Draco's task," said Albus.

"So you are being merciful?" asked Lily, "I suppose that makes sense."

"I disagree. Sometimes showing mercy can be unmerciful," pointed out

Regulus, "after all is Draco's redemption really worth the lives of the other

students? What if the next one dies, would you expel him and send him to

Azkaban or would you keep him at Hogwarts knowing that he could kill

even more innocent students? Like it or not, Draco poses a risk to the

school. Is his protection more important than the lives of the rest of the

students?"

There was a moment of silence while the alternate opinions were

considered by the members of the room.

Before anybody could respond to this ominous pronouncement, the

dormitory doors opened again and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley hurried up

the ward. They had done no more than satisfy themselves that Ron

would make a full recovery on their last visit to the ward; now Mrs.

Weasley seized hold of Harry and hugged him very tightly.

"Dumbledore's told us how you saved him with the bezoar," she

sobbed. "Oh, Harry, what can we say? You saved Ginny… you saved

Arthur… now you've saved Ron."

"This is the second time Harry has saved Ron from being caught in the

crossfire," pointed out James, "remember he stopped him from picking up

the necklace as well."

"That is so true," said Hermione, "I don't know how many times Harry has

saved our lives, but it is more than I realised looking back now."

"Don't be… I didn't…" muttered Harry awkwardly.

"Half our family does seem to owe you their lives, now I stop and think

about it," Mr. Weasley said in a constricted voice. "Well, all I can say is

that it was a lucky day for the Weasleys when Ron decided to sit in

your compartment on the Hogwarts Express Harry."

Harry could not think of any reply to this and was almost glad when

Madam Pomfrey reminded them that there were only supposed to be

six visitors around Ron's bed; he and Hermione rose at once to leave

and Hagrid decided to go with them, leaving Ron with his family.

"It's terrible," growled Hagrid into his beard, as the three of them

walked back along the corridor to the marble staircase. "All this new

security, an kids are still gettin' hurt… Dumbledore's worried sick…

He don' say much, but I can tell…"

"I daresay Regulus' thoughts are being contemplated by my future self as

well," admitted Albus in the past.

"Hasn't he got any ideas, Hagrid?" asked Hermione desperately.

"I spect he's got hundreds of ideas, brain like his," said Hagrid. "But

he doesn' know who sent that necklace nor put poison in that wine, or

they'dve bin caught, wouldn they? Wha' worries me," said Hagrid,

lowering his voice and glancing over his shoulder (Harry, for good

measure, checked the ceiling for Peeves), "is how long Hogwarts can

stay open if kids are bein' attacked. Chamber o' Secrets all over again,

isn' it? There'll be panic, more parents takin their kids outta school, an

nex' thing yeh know the board o' governors…"

"It must be so painful for Hagrid to go through that again," said Lily, "at

least they can't blame him this time."

"He's a half-giant, if nothing else it would be a convenient place to lay the

blame if needed, like it or not, some people will never escape prejudice,"

said Sirius staunchly.

Hagrid stopped talking as the ghost of a long-haired woman drifted

serenely past, then resumed in a hoarse whisper, "… the board o'

governors'll be talkin about shuttin' us up fer good."

"Surely not?" said Hermione, looking worried.

"Gotta see it from their point o' view," said Hagrid heavily. "I mean,

it's always bin a bit of a risk sendin a kid ter Hogwarts, hasn' it? Yer

expect accidents, don' yeh, wit hundreds of underage wizards all locked

up tergether, but attempted murder, tha's diff'rent. 'S'no wonder

Dumbledore's angry with Sn —"

Hagrid stopped in his tracks, a familiar, guilty expression on what was

visible of his face above his tangled black beard.

"Oh goodie, we are talking about me again," drawled Severus, "my day

keeps on getting better and better."

"What?" said Harry quickly. "Dumbledore's angry with Snape?"

"I wonder why?" asked Lily, "Sev hasn't done anything wrong, or at least

out of the ordinary for his rather ill-tempered future self."

"Well he is probably meant to control Draco and make sure that he doesn't

harm anyone else while still plotting, Severus is probably in charge of

ensuring the safety of the innocent third parties, considering the slip up and

current consequences, I wouldn't be surprised if Snape's future self was in

deep trouble if what I have assumed is correct," pointed out Frank.

"I never said tha'," said Hagrid, though his look of panic could not

have been a bigger giveaway. "Look at the time, it's gettin' on fer

midnight, I need ter —"

"Hagrid, why is Dumbledore angry with Snape?" Harry asked loudly.

"Shhhh!" said Hagrid, looking both nervous and angry. "Don' shout

stuff like that, Harry, d'yeh wan' me ter lose me job? Mind, I don'

suppose yeh'd care, would yeh, not now yeh've given up Care of Mag

—"

"Don't try and make me feel guilty, it won't work!" said Harry

forcefully. "What's Snape done?"

"I dunno, Harry, I shouldn'ta heard it at all! I — well, I was comin'

outta the forest the other evenin' an' I overheard 'em talking — well,

arguin'. Didn't like ter draw attention to meself, so I sorta skulked an'

tried not ter listen, but it was a — well, a heated discussion an' it wasn'

easy ter block it out."

"How can Hagrid not draw attention to himself?" asked James, "he isn't

exactly all that hard to miss."

"Well?" Harry urged him, as Hagrid shuffled his enormous feet

uneasily.

"Well — I jus' heard Snape sayin' Dumbledore took too much fer

granted an maybe he — Snape — didn' wan' ter do it anymore —"

"Do what?"

"Good question," agreed Remus.

"Could be anything," pointed out Regulus, "Spying, acting like a bastard,

putting up with Draco Malferret and family, have Trelawny as a colleague,

wear colours other than black, wash his hair..."

"Can it Black," snarled Severus, ending Regulus' attempt to redirect the

general thought process away from those thoughts which could be

detrimental to the seventh year Slytherin's health.

"I dunno, Harry, it sounded like Snape was feelin' a bit overworked,

tha's all — anyway, Dumbledore told him flat out he'd agreed ter do it

an' that was all there was to it. Pretty firm with him. An' then he said

summat abou' Snape makin' investigations in his House, in Slytherin.

Well, there's nothin' strange abou' that!" Hagrid added hastily, as

Harry and Hermione exchanged looks full of meaning. "All the Heads

o' Houses were asked ter look inter that necklace business —"

"Yeah, but Dumbledore's not having rows with the rest of them, is he?"

said Harry.

"Look," Hagrid twisted his crossbow uncomfortably in his hands; there

was a loud splintering sound and it snapped in two. "I know what

yeh're like abou' Snape, Harry, an' I don' want yeh ter go readin' more

inter this than there is."

"Look out," said Hermione tersely.

They turned just in time to see the shadow of Argus Filch looming over

the wall behind them before the man himself turned the corner,

hunchbacked, his jowls aquiver.

"Oho!" he wheezed. "Out of bed so late, this'll mean detention!"

"No it won', Filch," said Hagrid shortly. "They're with me, aren'

they?"

"And what difference does that make?" asked Filch obnoxiously.

"I'm a ruddy teacher, aren' I, yeh sneakin' Squib!" said Hagrid, firing

up at once.

"I'm guessing that Filch and Hagrid don't really get along," observed

Remus, "I never really noticed before."

"Not surprising Lupin," said Snape, "considering one lives in the castle and

the other on the grounds, so they probably don't spend all that much time

together."

There was a nasty hissing noise as Filch swelled with fury; Mrs. Norris

had arrived, unseen, and was twisting herself sinuously around Filch's

skinny ankles.

"Get goin," said Hagrid out of the corner of his mouth.

Harry did not need telling twice; he and Hermione both hurried off;

Hagrid's and Filch's raised voices echoed behind them as they ran.

They passed Peeves near the turning into Gryffindor Tower, but he was

streaking happily toward the source of the yelling, cackling and calling,

When there's strife and when there's trouble

Call on Peevsie, he'll make double!

"Seems his purpose in life remains the same," commented Remus dryly,

"can always count on Peeves to make life interesting."

The Fat Lady was snoozing and not pleased to be woken, but swung

forward grumpily to allow them to clamber into the mercifully peaceful

and empty common room. It did not seem that people knew about Ron

yet; Harry was very relieved: He had been interrogated enough that

day. Hermione bade him good night and set off for the girls' dormitory.

Harry, however, remained behind, taking a seat beside the fire and

looking down into the dying embers.

So Dumbledore had argued with Snape. In spite of all he had told

Harry, in spite of his insistence that he trusted Snape completely, he

had lost his temper with him… He did not think that Snape had tried

hard enough to investigate the Slytherins… or, perhaps, to investigate a

single Slytherin: Malfoy?

"Or perhaps investigate and prevent his attempts at the mysterious task

from harming other students," said James, "after all nothing gets past the

headmaster, so he would know exactly what was happening and be able to

take measures against it."

Was it because Dumbledore did not want Harry to do anything foolish,

to take matters into his own hands, that he had pretended there was

nothing in Harry's suspicions? That seemed likely. It might even be

that Dumbledore did not want anything to distract Harry from their

lessons, or from procuring that memory from Slughorn.

"While that may be a possibility, which I will not deny," said Minerva, "I

agree with Albus that Harry from what we have read would be the best

candidate for getting information from Horace Slughorn."

Perhaps Dumbledore did not think it right to confide suspicions about

his staff to sixteen-year-olds…

"That is also definitely a point," said Alice, "as stunning as I am sure your

son is, he probably doesn't need to know all the teachers gossip, because if

he was going to be told about disagreements he would probably have to be

told about the invariable arguments which would surround such possibilities

as Sybil Trelawney seeing herself as the future mother of Snape's bastard

son."

Hermione found that comparison rather amusing to say the least, she

wished she could see Snape the potions master's reaction to that scenario...

she doubted there would be anything of Trelawney and her inner eye left to

actually carry a baby.

"There you are, Potter!"

Harry jumped to his feet in shock, his wand at the ready. He had been

quite convinced that the common room was empty; he had not been at

all prepared for a hulking figure to rise suddenly out of a distant chair.

A closer look showed him that it was Cormac McLaggen.

"I've been waiting for you to come back," said McLaggen, disregarding

Harry's drawn wand. "Must've fallen asleep. Look, I saw them taking

Weasley up to the hospital wing earlier. Didn't look like he'll be fit for

next week's match."

It took Harry a few moments to realize what McLaggen was talking

about.

"Oh… right… Quidditch," he said, putting his wand back into the belt

of his jeans and running a hand wearily through his hair. "Yeah… he

might not make it."

"Well, then, I'll be playing Keeper, won't I?" said McLaggen.

"Yeah," said Harry. "Yeah, I suppose so…"

He could not think of an argument against it; after all, McLaggen had

certainly performed second-best in the trials.

Hermione groaned, if only Harry wasn't so nice and told McLaggen to piss

off, it would have made the world a much better place.

"Excellent," said McLaggen in a satisfied voice. "So when's practice?"

"What? Oh… there's one tomorrow evening."

"Good. Listen, Potter, we should have a talk beforehand. I've got some

ideas on strategy you might find useful."

"Right," said Harry unenthusiastically. "Well, I'll hear them tomorrow,

then. I'm pretty tired now… see you…"

The news that Ron had been poisoned spread quickly next day, but it

did not cause the sensation that Katie's attack had done. People seemed

to think that it might have been an accident, given that he had been in

the Potions master's room at the time, and that as he had been given an

antidote immediately there was no real harm done.

"Yes pity he didn't die," said Regulus sarcastically, "the gossipers would

have had so much more fun."

Hermione swatted him on the shoulder, "be nice," she scolded, "that is my

best friend you are talking about."

"Give me one good reason why?" responded Regulus giving Hermione a

smirk, revelling the verbal sparring.

"Because I said so," said Hermione poking her tongue out.

"I said a good reason," replied Regulus with a smile.

"Oh, right," said Hermione, "because if you don't I will use an interesting

spell that I learnt in a transfiguration book and turn you from Regulus to

Regina Black... is that a good enough reason?"

Regulus let out a theatrical sigh, "you wound me, ma Mie. Oh well, not the

first time I have faced that spell, and let me tell you, you would be doing

yourself a favour by allowing me to remain a male, after all what can beat

my dazzling good looks?"

"Apart from my own?" butted in Sirius.

"Arrogant berks," said Hermione shaking her head, although smiling

slightly, it seemed that Regulus managed to make her mood several times

brighter than it was before that conversation.

In fact, the Gryffindors were generally much more interested in the

upcoming Quidditch match against Hufflepuff, for many of them

wanted to see Zacharias Smith, who played Chaser on the Hufflepuff

team, punished soundly for his commentary during the opening match

against Slytherin.

Harry, however, had never been less interested in Quidditch; he was

rapidly becoming obsessed with Draco Malfoy. Still checking the

Marauder's Map whenever he got a chance, he sometimes made

detours to wherever Malfoy happened to be, but had not yet detected

him doing anything out of the ordinary. And still there were those

inexplicable times when Malfoy simply vanished from the map…

James looked slightly scandalised that something was more important than

quidditch, "I know that whatever Draco is doing is probably important,

however I think he is going a bit far, after all the headmaster at the very

least knows what is going on, a lot more than Harry does, so he should just

trust him to take care of it, after all what can Harry possibly do without

getting in trouble himself?"

But Harry did not get a lot of time to consider the problem, what with

Quidditch practice, homework, and the fact that he was now being

dogged wherever he went by Cormac McLaggen and Lavender Brown.

"If I was chased by those two, I think I would happily stalk Malfoy to the

ends of the earth," commented Frank, "they sound like they will probably

be unbearable."

"They were," said Hermione.

He could not decide which of them was more annoying. McLaggen kept

up a constant stream of hints that he would make a better permanent

Keeper for the team than Ron, and that now that Harry was seeing him

play regularly he would surely come around to this way of thinking too;

he was also keen to criticize the other players and provide Harry with

detailed training schemes, so that more than once Harry was forced to

remind him who was Captain.

Meanwhile, Lavender kept sidling up to Harry to discuss Ron, which

Harry found almost more wearing than McLaggen's Quidditch

lectures. At first, Lavender had been very annoyed that nobody had

thought to tell her that Ron was in the hospital wing — "I mean, I am

his girlfriend!"—but unfortunately she had now decided to forgive

Harry this lapse of memory and was keen to have lots of in-depth chats

with him about Ron's feelings, a most uncomfortable experience that

Harry would have happily forgone.

"Really?" asked James, "for the females in the room, don't talk to a guys

mate about their feelings, because they probably won't be honest and they

probably don't care."

"Yet I was able to have so many conversations with you about Sirius,"

teased Lily, with a grin.

"Look, why don't you talk to Ron about all this?" Harry asked, after a

particularly long interrogation from Lavender that took in everything

from precisely what Ron had said about her new drew robes to whether

or not Harry thought that Ron considered his relationship with

Lavender to be "serious."

"Well, I would, but he's always asleep when I go and see him!" said

Lavender fretfully.

"Is he?" said Harry, surprised, for he had found Ron perfectly alert

every time he had been up to the hospital wing, both highly interested

in the news of Dumbledore and Snape's row and keen abuse McLaggen

as much as possible.

"Someone is faking sleep," commented Alice, "poor Lavender, or perhaps

poor Ron he is going to have some fun when Lav-Lav finds out about his

sleeping habits."

"I don't know how anyone could be fooled by him, he snores like a freight

train," said Hermione, "something he doesn't do when he fakes sleep."

"Is Hermione Granger still visiting him?" Lavender demanded

suddenly.

"Yeah, I think so. Well, they're friends, aren't they?" said Harry

uncomfortably.

"Friends, don't make me laugh," said Lavender scornfully. "She didn't

talk to him for weeks after he started going out with me! But I suppose

she wants to make up with him now he's all interesting…"

"Would you call getting poisoned being interesting?" asked Harry.

"Anyway — sorry, got to go — there's McLaggen coming for a talk

about Quidditch," said Harry hurriedly, and he dashed sideways

through a door pretending to be solid wall and sprinted down the

shortcut that would take him off to Potions where, thankfully, neither

Lavender nor McLaggen could follow him.

"Apparently Sluggy can have his purposes after all," said James.

On the morning of the Quidditch match against Hufflepuff, Harry

dropped in on the hospital wing before heading down to the pitch. Ron

was very agitated; Madam Pomfrey would not let him go down to

watch the match, feeling it would overexcite him.

"So how's McLaggen shaping up?" he asked Harry nervously,

apparently forgetting that he had already asked the same question

twice.

"I've told you," said Harry patiently, "he could be world-class and I

wouldn't want to keep him. He keeps trying to tell everyone what to do,

he thinks he could play every position better than the rest of us. I can't

wait to be shot of him. And speaking of getting shot of people," Harry

added, getting to his feet and picking up his Firebolt, "will you stop

pretending to be asleep when Lavender comes to see you? She's driving

me mad as well."

"Oh," said Ron, looking sheepish. "Yeah. All right."

"If you don't want to go out with her anymore, just tell her," said

Harry.

"Yeah… well… it's not that easy, is it?" said Ron.

"Really," said Regulus, "last time I checked it was just one sentence, or

perhaps he lacks the courage of a true Gryffindor."

He paused. "Hermione going to look in before the match?" he added

casually.

"Oooh," cooed Alice.

"No, she's already gone down to the pitch with Ginny."

"Oh," said Ron, looking rather glum. "Right. Well, good luck. Hope

you hammer McLag — I mean, Smith."

"I'll try," said Harry, shouldering his broom. "See you after the

match."

He hurried down through the deserted corridors; the whole school was

outside, either already seated in the stadium or heading down toward

it. He was looking out of the windows he passed, trying to gauge how

much wind they were facing, when a noise ahead made him glance up

and he saw Malfoy walking toward him, accompanied by two girls,

both of whom looked sulky and resentful.

"How that guy manages to get one girl let alone two truly baffles me," said

Lily, "apparently horrible looks compensate for his even worse attitude,

mind you that probably explains the sulky looks."

Malfoy stopped short at the sight of Harry, then gave a short,

humourless laugh and continued walking.

"Where're you going?" Harry demanded.

"Yeah, I'm really going to tell you, because it's your business, Potter,"

sneered Malfoy. "You'd better hurry up, they'll be waiting for 'the

Chosen Captain' — 'the Boy Who Scored' — whatever they call you

these days."

One of the girls gave an unwilling giggle. Harry stared at her. She

blushed. Malfoy pushed past Harry and she and her friend followed at

a trot, turning the corner and vanishing from view.

Harry stood rooted on the spot and watched them disappear. This was

infuriating; he was already cutting it fine to get to the match on time

and yet there was Malfoy, skulking off while the rest of the school was

absent: Harry's best chance yet of discovering what Malfoy was up to.

The silent seconds trickled past, and Harry remained where he was,

frozen, gazing at the place where Malfoy had vanished…

"Oh come on," said James, "just go to the game already."

"Where have you been?" demanded Ginny, as Harry sprinted into the

changing rooms. The whole team was changed and ready; Coote and

Peakes, the Beaters, were both hitting their clubs nervously against

their legs.

"I met Malfoy," Harry told her quietly, as he pulled his scarlet robes

over his head. "So I wanted to know how come he's up at the castle

with a couple of girlfriends while everyone else is down here…"

"Does it matter right now?"

"Well, I'm not likely to find out, am I?" said Harry, seizing his Firebolt

and pushing his glasses straight. "Come on then!"

And without another word, he marched out onto the pitch to deafening

cheers and boos.

There was little wind; the clouds were patchy; every now and then

there were dazzling flashes of bright sunlight.

"Tricky conditions!" McLaggen said bracingly to the team. "Coote,

Peakes, you'll want to fly out of the sun, so they don't see you coming

—"

"That is good advice," said Sirius, "however it is not really his place as a

temporary team member to usurp the captains authority."

"I'm the Captain, McLaggen, shut up giving them instructions," said

Harry angrily. "Just get up by the goal posts!"

Once McLaggen had marched off, Harry turned to Coote and Peakes.

"Make sure you do fly out of the sun," he told them grudgingly.

He shook hands with the Hufflepuff Captain, and then, on Madam

Hooch's whistle, kicked off and rose into the air, higher than the rest of

his team, streaking around the pitch in search of the Snitch. If he could

catch it good and early, there might be a chance he could get back up to

the castle, seize the Marauder's Map, and find out what Malfoy was

doing…

"Whatever motivates him," said Alice, "are you sure that my thoughts

regarding young Harry's relationship with Draco are unfounded, because

Harry isn't doing much to deny them."

"And that's Smith of Hufflepuff with the Quaffle," said a dreamy voice,

echoing over the grounds. "He did the commentary last time, of course,

and Ginny Weasley flew into him, I think probably on purpose, it

looked like it. Smith was being quite rude about Gryffindor, I expect he

regrets that now he's playing them — oh, look, he's lost the Quaffle,

Ginny took it from him, I do like her, she's very nice…"

Alice doubled over in laughter, "please tell me that Luna is commentating!"

"She is," confirmed Hermione.

"Sweet," said Alice, "this will make it interesting!"

Harry stared down at the commentator's podium. Surely nobody in

their right mind would have let Luna Lovegood commentate?

"Don't you choose the quidditch commentators Professor?" asked Remus

with a hint of a smirk gracing his face.

But even from above there was no mistaking that long, dirty-blonde

hair, nor the necklace of butterbeer corks… Beside Luna, Professor

McGonagall was looking slightly uncomfortable, as though she was

indeed having second thoughts about this appointment.

"… but now that big Hufflepuff player's got the Quaffle from her, I

can't remember his name, it's something like Bibble — no, Buggins —"

"It's Cadwallader!" said Professor McGonagall loudly from beside

Luna. The crowd laughed.

"Whoops," said James with a grin.

Harry stared around for the Snitch; there was no sign of it. Moments

later, Cadwallader scored. McLaggen had been shouting criticism at

Ginny for allowing the Quaffle out of her possession, with the result

that he had not noticed the large red ball soaring past his right ear.

"Idiot," said James, "he should play his position, not judge and try and play

everyone else's."

"McLaggen, will you pay attention to what you're supposed to be doing

and leave everyone else alone!" bellowed Harry, wheeling around to

face his Keeper.

"You're not setting a great example!" McLaggen shouted back, red-

faced and furious.

"He's the captain you idiot, that is his job!" said James angrily, McLaggen

was really starting to tick him off.

"How on earth did you manage to go out with this guy?" asked Lily with an

arched eyebrow.

"Like I said, having to actually follow through on my idea and go to the

party with McLaggen, was more than enough punishment for trying to

manipulate Ron's emotions, trust me I learnt my lesson that time," said

Hermione.

"And Harry Potter's now having an argument with his Keeper," said

Luna serenely, while both Hufflepuffs and Slytherins below in the

crowd cheered and jeered. "I don't think that'll help him find the

Snitch, but maybe it's a clever ruse…"

Swearing angrily, Harry spun round and set off around the pitch again,

scanning the skies for some sign of the tiny, winged golden ball. Ginny

and Demelza scored a goal apiece, giving the red-and-gold-clad

supporters below something to cheer about. Then Cadwallader scored

again, making things level, but Luna did not seem to have noticed; she

appeared singularly uninterested in such mundane things as the score,

and kept attempting to draw the crowd's attention to such things as

interestingly shaped clouds and the possibility that Zacharias Smith,

who had so far failed to maintain possession of the Quaffle for longer

than a minute, was suffering from something called "Loser's Lurgy."

"Sounds painful," said Remus dryly.

"Hopefully it is painful to the hufflepuff score," said James.

"No such luck mate," said Sirius, checking out the next line.

"Seventy-forty to Hufflepuff!" barked Professor McGonagall into

Luna's megaphone.

"Is it, already?" said Luna vaguely. "Oh, look! The Gryffindor

Keeper's got hold of one of the Beater's bats."

Harry spun around in midair. Sure enough, McLaggen, for reasons

best known to himself, had pulled Peakes's bat from him and appeared

to be demonstrating how to hit a Bludger toward an oncoming

Cadwallader.

"For Merlin's sake," said James, "it's no wonder my son's team is losing,

McLaggen isn't even trying to do his job!"

"Will you give him back his bat and get back to the goal posts!" roared

Harry,

"Couldn't have said it better myself," said James.

pelting toward McLaggen just as McLaggen took a ferocious swipe at

the Bludger and mishit it. A blinding, sickening pain… a flash of

light… distant screams… and the sensation of falling down a long

tunnel…

"He hit my son with a bludger?" asked Lily, not looking very impressed.

"Is he sure that it was a mishit?" asked Severus dryly.

And the next thing Harry knew, he was lying in a remarkably warm

and comfortable bed and looking up at a lamp that was throwing a

circle of golden light onto a shadowy ceiling. He raised his head

awkwardly. There on his left was a familiar-looking, freckly, red-haired

person.

"Welcome to the hospital wing, may I take your order?" said Hermione.

"Nice of you to drop in," said Ron, grinning.

Harry blinked and looked around. Of course: He was in the hospital

wing. The sky outside was indigo streaked with crimson. The match

must have finished hours ago… as had any hope of cornering Malfoy.

Harry's head felt strangely heavy; he raised a hand and felt a stiff

turban of bandages.

"So he is more disappointed for missing Malfoy, than for losing quidditch,

provided that no one on the team showed initiative and had someone take

over his seeker position, after all you can win with just two chasers but you

can't win without a seeker," commented James.

"You have to wonder though," said Lily, "why is harry so obsessive about

finding what Draco is up to?"

"I have a possible theory," said Frank.

"Enlighten us then, oh Ravenclaw," said Sirius.

"Well Harry obviously before coming to Hogwarts has never had anyone

approve of him or value his opinions, correct?"

"Something which I plan to have words with my sister about, but yes,"

agreed Lily.

"So he is probably very sensitive to having people approve of him and

value him, to make up for what was lacking in his childhood," continued

Frank.

"Not quite," disagreed Regulus, "as he doesn't really care now if people say

stuff about him, remember the comment before the first quidditch game this

year, how he didn't care what people thought about him."

"I think Longbottom has a point though," said James, "after all Harry was

very sensitive when people didn't believe him when he said he didn't put his

name in the goblet in fourth year, or the same when people didn't believe

that he was back in the last book, I think just in comparison to that the

quidditch seemed mild, so I agree he does care if people believe him and

approve of him."

"Either way you want to interpret that works, however the people he

undoubtedly seeks approval from most are those he is emotionally attached

to: Ron, Hermione, probably the headmaster and Professor McGonagall as

well," said Frank.

"And our son!" added Alice, "but I see that point, after all he seemed not to

care so much about the tournament when Ron admitted he believed him.

But please continue dear Frankie, I am eager to hear how this story ends, I

am hoping for hot pink pandas eating Chinese chicken noodle pancakes."

"Okay," said Frank, moving past Alice's crazy train of thought, "so in this

case, the people whose opinions he counts on most don't believe him, so

perhaps the whole stalker thing could be him trying to prove his worth and

on some level win their approval."

"What do you think, Hermione?" asked Minerva, she was impressed with

the Ravenclaw's deduction.

"I think that it is certainly logical and very plausible," admitted Hermione,

"however it wasn't something that occurred to Ron or I."

"That is not surprising though because it is often harder to analyse people

when you are the one involved, you aren't able to be as objective and what

not," pointed out Regulus, hoping that would make Hermione feel better, as

he had a feeling that not thinking of that as a explanation would make her

feel guilty for not being a good enough friend for Harry, or at least a worse

friend than she was proving to be that year.

Hermione shrugged, "however I just thought that Harry, knowing that

Draco was related to Lestrange as well as being linked in with the other

death eaters, was focussing on him as a way of dealing his grief. I figured

that he needed a tangible person to focus his anti-death eater sentiments on,

and Draco was the best candidate because he couldn't really hunt down

Lestrange while still at school. I will admit, although I think that my theory

has some credibility yours makes sense and fits in with Harry's over all

attitude, which is displayed through all the time I have known him, rather

than just explaining a single circumstance."

"Perhaps Longbottom needs to become a mind healer instead of an auror,"

suggested Remus dryly.

"And how do you feel about that?" responded James with a grin.

"I honestly don't think Ali and I need to spend any more time in St Mungos

or with mind healers in the future, thank you very much," said Frank, the

joke struck a chord within him about the future which lay in store for him

and Alice.

The room turned silent at that reminder of what was hanging on these books

and Sirius took it as the queue to keep reading, suffice to say the room was

now rather subdued.

"What happened?"

"Cracked skull," said Madam Pomfrey, bustling up and pushing him

back against his pillows.

"Nothing to worry about, I mended it at once, but I'm keeping you in

overnight. You shouldn't over exert yourself for a few hours."

"I don't want to stay here overnight," said Harry angrily, sitting up and

throwing back his covers. "I want to find McLaggen and kill him."

"I'm afraid that would come under the heading of 'overexertion,'" said

Madam Pomfrey, pushing him firmly back onto the bed and raising her

wand in a threatening manner.

Hermione snorted quietly, who knew Madame Pomfrey had a sense of

humour.

"You will stay here until I discharge you, Potter, or I shall call the

headmaster."

She bustled back into her office, and Harry sank back into his pillows,

fuming.

"D'you know how much we lost by?" he asked Ron through clenched

teeth.

"Well, yeah I do," said Ron apologetically. "Final score was three

hundred and twenty to sixty."

James winced slightly, but said nothing.

"Brilliant," said Harry savagely. "Really brilliant! When I get hold of

McLaggen —"

"You don't want to get hold of him, he's the size of a troll," said Ron

reasonably. "Personally, I think there's a lot to be said for hexing him

with that toenail thing of the Prince's. Anyway, the rest of the team

might've dealt with him before you get out of here, they're not

happy…"

There was a note of badly suppressed glee in Ron's voice; Harry could

tell he was nothing short of thrilled that McLaggen had messed up so

badly. Harry lay there, staring up at the patch of light on the ceiling,

his recently mended skull not hurting, precisely, but feeling slightly

tender underneath all the bandaging.

"I could hear the match commentary from here," said Ron, his voice

now shaking with laughter. "I hope Luna always commentates from

now on… Loser's Lurgy…"

But Harry was still too angry to see much humor in the situation, and

after a while Ron's snorts subsided.

"Ginny came in to visit while you were unconscious," he said, after a

long pause, and Harry's imagination zoomed into overdrive, rapidly

constructing a scene in which Ginny, weeping over his lifeless form,

confessed her feelings of deep attraction to him while Ron gave them

his blessing…

A few people looked amused at Harry's rather vivid imagination.

"She reckons you only just arrived on time for the match. How come?

You left here early enough."

"Oh…" said Harry, as the scene in his mind's eye imploded. "Yeah…

well, I saw Malfoy sneaking off with a couple of girls who didn't look

like they wanted to be with him, and that's the second time he's made

sure he isn't down on the Quidditch pitch with the rest of the school; he

skipped the last match too, remember?" Harry sighed. "Wish I'd

followed him now, the match was such a fiasco…"

"Don't be stupid," said Ron sharply. "You couldn't have missed a

Quidditch match just to follow Malfoy, you're the Captain!"

"I want to know what he's up to," said Harry. "And don't tell me it's all

in my head, not after what I overheard between him and Snape —"

Hermione raised an eyebrow, she could see Frank's point about how Harry

was looking for her and Ron's approval.

"I never said it was all in your head," said Ron, hoisting himself up on

an elbow in turn and frowning at Harry, "but there's no rule saying

only one person at a time can be plotting anything in this place! You're

getting a bit obsessed with Malfoy, Harry. I mean, thinking about

missing a match just to follow him…"

"I want to catch him at it!" said Harry in frustration. "I mean, where's

he going when he disappears off the map?"

"I dunno… Hogsmeade?" suggested Ron, yawning.

"I've never seen him going along any of the secret passageway on the

map. I thought they were being watched now anyway?"

"Well then, I dunno," said Ron.

Silence fell between them. Harry stared up at the circle of lamp light

above him, thinking…

"That's dangerous for him," murmured Severus quietly.

If only he had Rufus Scrimgeour's power, he would have been able to

set a tail upon Malfoy, but unfortunately Harry did not have an office

full of Aurors at his command… He thought fleetingly of trying to set

something up with the D.A., but there again was the problem that

people would be missed from lessons; most of them, after all, still had

full schedules…

Sirius raised an eyebrow, he could see where Harry was going with this, the

chapter title now seemed to make sense.

There was a low, rumbling snore from Ron's bed. After a while Madam

Pomfrey came out of her office, this time wearing a thick dressing

gown. It was easiest to feign sleep; Harry rolled over onto his side and

listened to all the curtains closing themselves as she waved her wand.

The lamps dimmed, and she returned to her office; he heard the door

click behind her and knew that she was off to bed.

This was, Harry reflected in the darkness, the third time that he had

been brought to the hospital wing because of a Quidditch injury. Last

time he had fallen off his broom due to the presence of Dementors

around the pitch, and the time before that, all the bones had been

removed from his arm by the incurably inept Professor Lockhart…

That had been his most painful injury by far… he remembered the

agony of regrowing an armful of bones in one night, a discomfort not

eased by the arrival of an unexpected visitor in the middle of the —

Harry sat bolt upright, his heart pounding, his bandage turban askew.

"Light bulb moment," comment Lily with a faint smile, though still feeling

subdued after the allusion to her friends' fate, all of the their fates.

He had the solution at last: There was a way to have Malfoy followed

— how could he have forgotten, why hadn't he thought of it before?

But the question was, how to call him? What did you do? Quietly,

tentatively, Harry spoke into the darkness.

"Kreacher?"

Sirius rolled his eyes, of course, the ratty house-elf who terrorised his

childhood on his mother's orders and sold him out to Bella would be there.

There was a very loud crack, and the sounds of scuffling and squeaks

filled the silent room. Ron awoke with a yelp.

"What's going —?"

Harry pointed his wand hastily at the door of Madam Pomfrey's office

and muttered, "Muffliato!" so that she would not come running. Then

he scrambled to the end of his bed for a better look at what was going

on. Two house-elves were rolling around on the floor in the middle of

the dormitory, one wearing a shrunken maroon jumper and several

woolly hats, the other, a filthy old rag strung over his hips like a

loincloth.

"Seems Dobby is there too."

Then there was another loud bang, and Peeves the Poltergeist appeared

in midair above the wrestling elves.

"I was watching that, Potty!" he told Harry indignantly, pointing at the

fight below, before letting out a loud cackle. "Look at the ickle

creatures squabbling, bitey bitey, punchy punchy —"

"Seems Peeves has found a new form of entertainment, I thought he was

being rather quiet in this book," said Remus dryly.

"Seems they don't like each other," observed James, "not surprising mind

you, you have one elf who worships the ground Harry walks on and the

other who willingly and knowingly led Harry into a trap which was meant

to kill him."

"Kreacher will not insult Harry Potter in front of Dobby, no he won't,

or Dobby will shut Kreacher's mouth for him!" cried Dobby in a high-

pitched voice.

"— kicky, scratchy!" cried Peeves happily, now pelting bits of' chalk at

the elves to enrage them further. "Tweaky, pokey!"

"Kreacher will say what he likes about his master, oh yes, and what a

master he is, filthy friend of Mudbloods, oh, what would poor

Kreacher's mistress say —?"

Exactly what Kreacher's mistress would have said they did not find

out, for at that moment Dobby sank his knobbly little fist into

Kreacher's mouth and knocked out half of his teeth. Harry and Ron

both leapt out of their beds and wrenched the two elves apart, though

they continued to try and kick and punch each other, egged on by

Peeves, who swooped around the lamp squealing, "Stick your fingers

up his nosey, draw his cork and pull his earsies —"

Harry aimed his wand at Peeves and said, "Langlock!" Peeves clutched

at his throat, gulped, then swooped from the room making obscene

gestures but unable to speak, owing to the fact that his tongue had just

glued itself to the roof of his mouth.

"Good idea," said Lily, "I didn't realise that magic could actually affect a

poltergeist, not that I have ever tried."

"We have," said Remus, "we hex Peeves all the time."

"Nice one," said Ron appreciatively, lifting Dobby into the air so that

his flailing limbs no longer made contact with Kreacher. "That was

another Prince hex, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," said Harry, twisting Kreacher's wizened arm into a half nelson.

"Right — I'm forbidding you to fight each other! Well, Kreacher,

you're forbidden to fight Dobby. Dobby, I know I'm not allowed to give

you orders —"

"He will do it anyway," guessed Regulus, "considering he is most likely

Harry's elf."

"Dobby is a free house-elf and he can obey anyone he likes and Dobby

will do whatever Harry Potter wants him to do!" said Dobby, tears now

streaming down his shriveled little face onto his jumper.

"How does that work?" asked Hermione, "he just said he was free."

"Probably referred to the fact that he has freedom within the bond, so

although he has bound himself to Harry, Harry wants him to be free and

have freedom of choice, so Dobby is free," said Regulus, "mind you I am

not an expert, you would have to ask a house-elf to be sure though."

"Okay then," said Harry, and he and Ron both released the elves, who

fell to the floor but did not continue fighting.

"Master called me?" croaked Kreacher, sinking into a bow even as he

gave Harry a look that plainly wished him a painful death.

"Yeah, I did," said Harry, glancing toward Madam Pomfrey's office

door to check that the Muffliato spell was still working; there was no

sign that she had heard any of the commotion. "I've got a job for you."

"Kreacher will do whatever Master wants," said Kreacher, sinking so

low that his lips almost touched his gnarled toes, "because Kreacher

has no choice, but Kreacher is ashamed to have such a master, yes —"

"Dobby will do it, Harry Potter!" squeaked Dobby, his tennis-ball-sized

eyes still swimming in tears. "Dobby would be honoured to help Harry

Potter!"

"Come to think of it, it would be good to have both of you," said Harry.

"Okay then… I want you to tail Draco Malfoy."

Ignoring the look of mingled surprise and exasperation on Ron's face,

Harry went on, "I want to know where he's going, who he's meeting,

and what he's doing. I want you to follow him around the clock."

"Yes, Harry Potter!" said Dobby at once, his great eyes shining with

excitement. "And if Dobby does it wrong, Dobby will throw himself off

the topmost tower, Harry Potter!"

"I think that is a bit too literal and enthusiastic," commented James.

"There won't be any need for that," said Harry hastily.

"Master wants me to follow the youngest of the Malfoys?" croaked

Kreacher. "Master wants me to spy upon the pureblood great-nephew

of my old mistress?"

"That's the one," said Harry, foreseeing a great danger and

determining to prevent it immediately. "And you're forbidden to tip

him off, Kreacher, or to show him what you're up to, or to talk to him

at all, or to write him messages or… or to contact him in any way. Got

it?"

"He learns fast that one," said Severus.

He thought he could see Kreacher struggling to see a loophole in the

instructions he had just been given and waited. After a moment or two,

and to Harrys great satisfaction, Kreacher bowed deeply again and

said, with bitter resentment, "Master thinks of everything, and

Kreacher must obey him even though Kreacher would much rather be

the servant of the Malfoy boy, oh yes…"

"That's settled, then," said Harry. "I'll want regular reports, but make

sure I'm not surrounded by people when you turn up. Ron and

Hermione are okay. And don't tell anyone what you're doing. Just stick

to Malfoy like a couple of wart plasters."

"That is the end of the chapter," said Sirius.

"Do we want to read one more or stop for lunch?" asked Minerva.

"Can we read one more?" begged Lily, "I am curious about what has been

happening."

"Better make it quick though, love," said James, "I can hear Moony's

stomach rumbling from here."

"Can it Prongs," said Remus, "now give me the book Paddy so that I can

read, to appease Lily, then we can have some lunch."

AN: Thanks for reading, please review! Cheers!

20. Chapter 20

Lord Voldemort's Request

AN: Hi all, thanks for reading and especially to those who have reviewed, it

is very encouraging to hear everyone's thoughts. As usual I own nothing

which you can recognise. Please enjoy the next chapter. Happy reading!

Cheers!

"It seems that the next chapter will be rather intriguing," said Remus, "Lord

Voldemort's Request"

"What on earth could he want?" asked Sirius.

"I don't know," drawled Regulus, "perhaps world domination, power,

money, a female companion which is better than Bella, a trip to Hawaii,

hang on make that Antartica, the Hawaiian sun would probably kill him, oh

and probably some anger management classes for good measure, because

he is horrid to be around when he is in a bad mood."

"I was trying to be realistic," said Sirius, purposely avoiding the dreaded

pun.

"I was," pointed out Regulus, "apart from the last two in anycase, he is a

megalomaniac who is seeking more power and resources, namely money

something which he obviously has never had and he obviously has a

complex due to his upbringing which makes him want to subjugate all

others, which falls under the category of world domination. As for Bella,

when you see her around him, you will understand what I mean it is

disturbing!"

"Okay, did not need that mental image," cringed Sirius.

"Well on that pleasant note perhaps Wolfie can read on," said Alice, Remus

scrunched his nose at his new nickname, but did as the fair lady

commanded.

Harry and Ron left the hospital wing first thing on Monday morning,

restored to full health by the ministrations of Madam Pomfrey and now

able to enjoy the benefits of having been knocked out and poisoned, the

best of which was that Hermione was friends with Ron again.

Hermione even escorted them down to breakfast, bringing with her the

news that Ginny had argued with Dean. The drowsing creature in

Harry's chest suddenly raised its head, sniffing the air hopefully.

"I wonder what species of animal it is?" asked Alice, "perhaps a platypus,

they are interesting creatures."

"What did they row about?" he asked, trying to sound casual as they

turned onto a seventh-floor corridor that was deserted but for a very

small girl who had been examining a tapestry of trolls in tutus. She

looked terrified at the sight of the approaching sixth years and dropped

the heavy brass scales she was carrying.

"Isn't that basically where we are?" questioned Regulus, "after all I

remember that bizarre note we received which told us to be at the tapestry

of the ballet-dancing trolls by nine o'clock, weirdest letter I ever received."

Hermione cursed herself, of course they should have been suspicious about

the fact that the trolls marked the entrance to the Room of Requirement.

"It's all right!" said Hermione kindly, hurrying forward to help her.

"Here…"

She tapped the broken scales with her wand and said, "Reparo." The

girl did not say thank you, but remained rooted to the spot as they

passed and watched them out of sight; Ron glanced back at her.

"I swear they're getting smaller," he said.

"Or perhaps with the amount of food the dunderhead consumes he is merely

getting bigger," remarked Severus.

"Never mind her," said Harry, a little impatiently. "What did Ginny

and Dean row about, Hermione?"

Hermione snorted, it was good to see Harry's priorities in order.

"Oh, Dean was laughing about McLaggen hitting that Bludger at you,"

said Hermione.

"It must've looked funny," said Ron reasonably

"It didn't look funny at all!" said Hermione hotly, "It looked terrible

and if Coote and Peakes hadn't caught Harry he could have been badly

hurt!"

"Yeah, well, there was no need for Ginny and Dean to split up over it,"

said Harry, still trying to sound casual. "Or are they still together?"

"Yes, they are — but why are you so interested?" asked Hermione,

giving Harry a sharp look.

"He had the subtlety of a sledge-hammer hitting an oversized anvil," said

Hermione"it was kind of obvious, at least to me anyway."

"Trust me," said Lily with a grin, "it is a family trait."

"I never took you as the obvious male type," replied Hermione.

"Oh, but I am," said Lily, sending James a smirk, who was caught between

pretending to be offended or smirking in triumph in light of the vocalisation

of Lily's regard for him. Although now that James thought about it,

considering how vocal she had been in her disapproval of him, it shouldn't

surprise anyone that she could be just as emphatic in voicing her new

approval of him and their change in relationship.

"I just don't want my Quidditch team messed up again!" he said

hastily, but Hermione continued to look suspicious, and he was most

relieved when a voice behind them called, "Harry!" giving him an

excuse to turn his back on her.

"Oh, hi, Luna."

"I went to the hospital wing to find you," said Luna, rummaging in her

bag. "But they said you'd left…"

She thrust what appeared to be a green onion, a large spotted toadstool,

and a considerable amount of what looked like cat litter into Ron's

hands, finally pulling out a rather grubby scroll of parchment that she

handed to Harry.

"… I've been told to give you this."

It was a small roll of parchment, which Harry recognized at once as

another invitation to a lesson with Dumbledore.

"Tonight," he told Ron and Hermione, once he had unrolled it.

"Nice commentary last match!" said Ron to Luna as she took back the

green onion, the toadstool, and the cat litter. Luna smiled vaguely.

"I would too if I carried cat litter in my school bag," said Sirius.

"You're making fun of me, aren't you?" she said. "Everyone says I was

dreadful."

"No, I'm serious!" said Ron earnestly. "I can't remember enjoying

commentary more! What is this, by the way?" he added, holding the

onion-like object up to eye level.

"Oh, it's a Gurdyroot," she said, stuffing the cat litter and the toadstool

back into her bag. "You can keep it if you like, I've got a few of them.

They're really excellent for warding off Gulping Plimpies." And she

walked away, leaving Ron chortling, still clutching the Gurdyroot.

"They also taste disgusting," said Hermione.

"Do we want to know how you knew that?" asked Regulus. Hermione

shook her head in the negative.

"You know, she's grown on me, Luna," he said, as they set off again for

the Great Hall. "I know she's insane, but it's in a good —" He stopped

talking very suddenly. Lavender Brown was standing at the foot of the

marble staircase looking thunderous.

"Uh oh," sang Alice, "somebody's in trouble!"

"Hi," said Ron nervously.

"C'mon," Harry muttered to Hermione, and they sped past, though not

before they had heard Lavender say, "Why didn't you tell me you were

getting out today? And why was she with you?"

"Mie or Luna?" asked James with a grin, knowing the answer.

"Ah, yes, my dorm mate is not all that fond of me at the moment," said

Hermione dryly.

"Understatement if I've ever heard one, by the sounds of it," commented

Remus..

Ron looked both sulky and annoyed when he appeared at breakfast

half an hour later, and though he sat with Lavender, Harry did not see

them exchange a word all the time they were together. Hermione was

acting as though she was quite oblivious to all of this, but once or twice

Harry saw an inexplicable smirk cross her face.

"Any particular reason?" asked Regulus.

"Oh you know the usual, sun shining, birds chirping..."

"A bit of lavender blowing in the breeze?" added Lily, "blowing away that

is."

"Still waiting for that," said Hermione, "Ron still needs to learn to grow a

pair before that happens, but it was amusing in the mean time. Even though

I don't hate Lavender, we aren't exactly the best of friends, she always liked

to show off about all the boys who liked her, so it was rather amusing

watching her get jealous of the bushy-haired bookworm."

"Your hair isn't all that bushy though," observed Alice, looking at

Hermione's long brown hair.

"It is, it's just a lot longer now, so some of the weight helps counter if, but if

I cut it back again it would be horrific, particularly during humidity...

potions class never really agreed with my hair," commented Hermione.

"I can imagine," observed Severus sarcastically, "given its current state, I

can only imagine what potion fumes would do to it. I honestly prefer my

own hair... after all at least I will always be able to see..."

All that day she seemed to be in a particularly good mood, and that

evening in the common room she even consented to look over (in other

words, finish writing) Harry's Herbology essay, something she had

been resolutely refusing to do up to this point, because she had known

that Harry would then let Ron copy his work.

"He was pretty much done anyway," said Hermione, "his grades did really

improve that year, in all his classes, between stalking Draco, quidditch and

avoiding unwanted members of the castle, he did really well in his classes."

"Thanks a lot, Hermione," said Harry, giving her a hasty pat on the

back as he checked his watch and saw that it was nearly eight o'clock.

"Listen, I've got to hurry or I'll be late for Dumbledore…"

She did not answer, but merely crossed out a few of his feebler

sentences in a weary sort of way. Grinning, Harry hurried out through

the portrait hole and off to the headmaster's office. The gargoyle leapt

aside at the mention of toffee éclairs, and Harry took the spiral

staircase two steps at a time, knocking on the door just as a clock

within chimed eight.

"Perfect timing."

"Enter," called Dumbledore, but as Harry put out a hand to push the

door, it was wrenched open from inside. There stood Professor

Trelawney.

"That is odd," commented Frank.

"Aha!" she cried, pointing dramatically at Harry as she blinked at him

through her magnifying spectacles. "So this is the reason I am to be

thrown unceremoniously from your office, Dumbledore!"

"My dear Sybil," said Dumbledore in a slightly exasperated voice,

"there is no question of throwing you unceremoniously from anywhere,

but Harry does have an appointment, and I really don't think there is

any more to be said —"

"Very well," said Professor Trelawney, in a deeply wounded voice. "If

you will not banish the usurping nag, so be it… Perhaps I shall find a

school where my talents are better appreciated…"

She pushed past Harry and disappeared down the spiral staircase; they

heard her stumble halfway down, and Harry guessed that she had

tripped over one of her trailing shawls.

"Please close the door and sit down, Harry," said Dumbledore,

sounding rather tired.

"Trelawney does that to you," said Hermione.

Harry obeyed, noticing as he took his usual seat in front of

Dumbledore's desk that the Pensieve lay between them once more, as

did two more tiny crystal bottles full of swirling memory.

"Professor Trelawney still isn't happy Firenze is teaching, then?"

Harry asked.

"No," said Dumbledore, "Divination is turning out to be much more

trouble than I could have foreseen, never having studied the subject

myself. I cannot ask Firenze to return to the forest, where he is now an

outcast, nor can I ask Sybil Trelawney to leave. Between ourselves, she

has no idea of the danger she would be in outside the castle. She does

not know — and I think it would be unwise to enlighten her — that she

made the prophecy about you and Voldemort, you see."

"Would Vo-vo mort, know that it was her?" asked James, "after all he never

got to see the initials on the sphere which indicated that it was her."

"But the thing is Potter," said Severus, "whoever overheard the prophecy

would know and would probably tell the Dark Lord, if he didn't pull it from

their mind himself."

"Also, just the fact that he knows that Dumbledore knows who made the

prophecy, hired her at the same time period and protected her during the

Umbridge years would surely have made him suspicious, the Dark Lord is a

lot of things, unfortunately an idiot isn't one of them," added Regulus.

Dumbledore heaved a deep sigh, then said, "But never mind my

staffing problems. We have much more important matters to discuss.

Firstly — have you managed the task I set you at the end of our

previous lesson?"

"Ah," said Harry, brought up short. What with Apparition lessons and

Quidditch and Ron being poisoned and getting his skull cracked and

his determination to find out what Draco Malfoy was up to, Harry had

almost forgotten about the memory Dumbledore had asked him to

extract from Professor Slughorn.

"I'll take that as a no," said Frank.

"Well, I asked Professor Slughorn about it at the end of Potions, sir,

but, er, he wouldn't give it to me." There was a little silence.

"I see," said Dumbledore eventually, peering at Harry over the top of

his half-moon spectacles and giving Harry the usual sensation that he

was being X-rayed. "And you feel that you have exerted your very best

efforts in this matter, do you? That you have exercised all of your

considerable ingenuity? That you have left no depth of cunning

unplumbed in your quest to retrieve the memory?"

"Also a no," said Severus, "if that was his display of cunning, I would hate

to see his display of stupidity."

"Well," Harry stalled, at a loss for what to say next. His single attempt

to get hold of the memory suddenly seemed embarrassingly feeble.

"That would be because it was," said Severus, "a typical idiotic Gryffindor

approach to what is clearly a Slytherin problem."

"You realise you are in a room of Gryffindors don't you, Sev," said Lily

sweetly, a tone which always spelt trouble.

"None of whom can deny that his attempt was utter bollocks," added

Severus pointedly, silently saying 'beat that'.

"Well… the day Ron swallowed love potion by mistake I took him to

Professor Slughorn. I thought maybe if I got Professor Slughorn in a

good enough mood —"

"And did that work?" asked Dumbledore.

"Well, no, sir, because Ron got poisoned —"

"— which, naturally, made you forget all about trying to retrieve the

memory; I would have expected nothing else, while your best friend

was in danger. Once it became clear that Mr. Weasley was going to

make a full recovery, however, I would have hoped that you returned to

the task I set you. I thought I made it clear to you how very important

that memory is. Indeed, I did my best to impress upon you that it is the

most crucial memory of all and that we will be wasting our time

without it."

"You give an impressive guilt trip, Professor," complimented James.

"Perhaps, however I have not yet perfected it to the point where I can make

you and your friends behave," said Albus with his eyes twinkling.

Sirius averted his eyes, he knew perfectly well how effective the

headmaster's guilt trips were, much to his regret.

A hot, prickly feeling of shame spread from the top of Harry's head all

the way down his body. Dumbledore had not raised his voice, he did not

even sound angry, but Harry would have preferred him to yell; this

cold disappointment was worse than anything.

"Sir," he said, a little desperately, "it isn't that I wasn't bothered or

anything, I've just had other — other things…"

"Other things on your mind," Dumbledore finished the sentence for

him. "I see."

Silence fell between them again, the most uncomfortable silence Harry

had ever experienced with Dumbledore; it seemed to go on and on,

punctuated only by the little grunting snores of the portrait of

Armando Dippet over Dumbledore's head. Harry felt strangely

diminished, as though he had shrunk a little since he had entered the

room. When he could stand it no longer he said, "Professor

Dumbledore, I'm really sorry. I should have done more… I should have

realized you wouldn't have asked me to do it if it wasn't really

important."

Minerva almost smiled, rather than ranting and raving like most professors,

Albus' method of merely being silent and allowing others to fill in the gaps

was a very effective method and one he employed rather frequently and

with results.

"Thank you for saying that, Harry," said Dumbledore quietly. "May I

hope, then, that you will give this matter higher priority from now on?

There will be little point in our meeting after tonight unless we have

that memory."

"I'll do it, sir, I'll get it from him," he said earnestly.

"Then we shall say no more about it just now," said Dumbledore more

kindly, "but continue with our story where we left off. You remember

where that was?"

"Yes, sir," said Harry quickly. "Voldemort killed his father and his

grandparents and made it look as though his Uncle Morfin did it. Then

he went back to Hogwarts and he asked… he asked Professor Slughorn

about Horcruxes," he mumbled shamefacedly.

"Very good," said Dumbledore. "Now, you will remember, I hope, that I

told you at the very outset of these meetings of ours that we would be

entering the realms of guesswork and speculation?"

"Yes, sir."

"Thus far, as I hope you agree, I have shown you reasonably firm

sources of fact for my deductions as to what Voldemort did until the

age of seventeen?"

Harry nodded.

"But now, Harry," said Dumbledore, "now things become murkier and

stranger. If it was difficult to find evidence about the boy Riddle, it has

been almost impossible to find anyone prepared to reminisce about the

man Voldemort. In fact, I doubt whether there is a soul alive, apart

from himself, who could give us a full account of his life since he left

Hogwarts. However, I have two last memories that I would like to share

with you." Dumbledore indicated the two little crystal bottles gleaming

beside the Pensieve. "I shall then be glad of your opinion as to whether

the conclusions I have drawn from them seem likely."

"I'm intrigued," said Regulus, "would you like me to take over scribe duties

for the chapter Lupin?" Remus nodded it would be difficult to read and

write at the same time.

The idea that Dumbledore valued his opinion this highly made Harry

feel even more deeply ashamed that he had failed in the task of

retrieving the Horcrux memory, and he shifted guiltily in his seat as

Dumbledore raised the first of the two bottles to the light and examined

it.

Minerva was quite sure that was a deliberate move on Albus' part, but she

kept silent.

"I hope you are not tired of diving into other people's memories, for

they are curious recollections, these two," he said. "This first one came

from a very old house-elf by the name of Hokey. Before we see what

Hokey witnessed, I must quickly recount how Lord Voldemort left

Hogwarts.

"Hokey," said Alice, "the name sounds familiar, I just don't know where

from though."

"I am sure elucidation is nearer than you think," replied Lily cheekily.

"He reached the seventh year of his schooling with, as you might have

expected, top grades in every examination he had taken. All around

him, his classmates were deciding which jobs they were to pursue once

they had left Hogwarts. Nearly everybody expected spectacular things

from Tom Riddle, prefect, Head Boy, winner of the Award for Special

Services to the School. I know that several teachers, Professor Slughorn

amongst them, suggested that he join the Ministry of Magic, offered to

set up appointments, put him in touch with useful contacts. He refused

all offers. The next thing the staff knew, Voldemort was working at

Borgin and Burkes."

"Interesting choice," said James, "from shop-hand to dark lord, customer

service must have really been a nightmare."

"It isn't surprising though," said Sirius, "given the rather... dubious... nature

of the shop, it would probably be the easiest way for him to learn about

dark magic and some of the more 'interesting' objects in existence, which is

something he appears to be rather interested in now."

"At Borgin and Burkes?" Harry repeated, stunned.

"At Borgin and Burkes," repeated Dumbledore calmly. "I think you

will see what attractions the place held for him when we have entered

Hokey's memory. But this was not Voldemort's first choice of job.

Hardly anyone knew of it at the time — I was one of the few in whom

the then headmaster confided — but Voldemort first approached

Professor Dippet and asked whether he could remain at Hogwarts as a

teacher."

"Now that is a scary thought," said Lily, looking repulsed, "who in their

right mind would let him teach children."

"He wanted to stay here? Why?" asked Harry, more amazed still.

"I believe he had several reasons, though he confided none of them to

Professor Dippet," said Dumbledore. "Firstly, and very importantly,

Voldemort was, I believe, more attached to this school than he has ever

been to a person. Hogwarts was where he had been happiest; the first

and only place he had felt at home."

Harry felt slightly uncomfortable at these words, for this was exactly

how he felt about Hogwarts too.

Severus also looked rather uncomfortable at those words as well. Sirius also

had a quiver of disgust run through him, although in his defence no one

who lived with and was hated by his mother would ever call her house their

home, for him coming to Hogwarts was a chance to get out from under her

thumb and cruel expectations and truly become his own person, rather than

the monster he was sure his darling-mother wanted him to be.

"Secondly, the castle is a stronghold of ancient magic. Undoubtedly

Voldemort had penetrated many more of its secrets than most of the

students who pass through the place, but he may have felt that there

were still mysteries to unravel, stores of magic to tap. And thirdly, as a

teacher, he would have had great power and influence over young

witches and wizards.

"And that is the scary part," said Lily, "I would not want him influencing

my children, or any children, he could use it as a place to start building an

army, it would make his quest for world domination so much easier."

Perhaps he had gained the idea from Professor Slughorn, the teacher

with whom he was on best terms, who had demonstrated how

influential a role a teacher can play. I do not imagine for an instant that

Voldemort envisaged spending the rest of his life at Hogwarts, but I do

think that he saw it as a useful recruiting ground, and a place where he

might begin to build himself an army."

"But he didn't get the job, sir?"

"No, he did not. Professor Dippet told him that he was too young at

eighteen, but invited him to reapply in a few years, if he still wished to

teach."

"How did you feel about that, sir?" asked Harry hesitantly.

"Deeply uneasy," said Dumbledore. "I had advised Armando against

the appointment — I did not give the reasons I have given you, for

Professor Dippet was very fond of Voldemort and convinced of his

honesty. But I did not want Lord Voldemort back at this school, and

especially not in a position of power."

"Which job did he want, sir? What subject did he want to teach?"

Somehow, Harry knew the answer even before Dumbledore gave it.

"The one that no one can keep would be my guess," said Frank dryly.

"While most likely true, given he knew that Professor Merryweather was

retiring, her successor a decommissioned auror among two others stayed in

that position for many years continually," pointed out Minerva.

"Defence Against the Dark Arts. It was being taught at the time by an

old Professor by the name of Galatea Merrythought, who had been at

Hogwarts for nearly fifty years.

"So Voldemort went off to Borgin and Burkes, and all the staff who had

admired him said what a waste it was, a brilliant young wizard like

that, working in a shop. However, Voldemort was no mere assistant.

Polite and handsome and clever, he was soon given particular jobs of

the type that only exist in a place like Borgin and Burkes, which

specializes, as you know, Harry, in objects with unusual and powerful

properties. Voldemort was sent to persuade people to part with their

treasures for sale by the partners, and he was, by all accounts,

unusually gifted at doing this."

"No kidding."

"I'll bet he was," said Harry, unable to contain himself.

"Well, quite," said Dumbledore, with a faint smile. "And now it is time

to hear from Hokey the house-elf, who worked for a very old, very rich

witch by the name of Hepzibah Smith."

Alice gasped, "I know that name. I remember now, she was my great aunt.

It is some form of family mystery she was killed by her house-elf, that

would be Hokey, however several family heirlooms went missing at the

same time, causing uproar in the family, it is a story that everyone knows."

"I have a feeling that we will be hearing a rather different version of it,"

pointed out Regulus, "it is rather odd that a house-elf killed her mistress,

even by accident, add a mystery visit by the Dark Lord, I think we have a

conspiracy brewing."

Dumbledore tapped a bottle with his wand, the cork flew out, and he

tipped the swirling memory into the Pensieve, saying as he did so,

"After you, Harry."

Harry got to his feet and bent once more over the rippling silver

contents of the stone basin until his face touched them. He tumbled

through dark nothingness and landed in a sitting room in front of an

immensely fat old lady wearing an elaborate ginger wig and a brilliant

pink set of robes that flowed all around her, giving her the look of a

melting iced cake.

"Attractive look," commented Frank nudging Alice, "Seems the fashion

sense runs in the family."

"At least she isn't wearing a stuffed vulture on top of her hat to reflect her

personality," replied Alice.

She was looking into a small jewelled mirror and dabbing rouge onto

her already scarlet cheeks with a large powder puff, while the tiniest

and oldest house-elf Harry had ever seen laced her fleshy feet into tight

satin slippers.

"Hurry up, Hokey!" said Hepzibah imperiously. "He said he'd come at

four, it's only a couple of minutes to and he's never been late yet!"

She tucked away her powder puff as the house-elf straightened up. The

top of the elf's head barely reached the seat of Hepzibah's chair, and

her papery skin hung off her frame just like the crisp linen sheet she

wore draped like a toga.

"How do I look?" said Hepzibah, turning her head to admire the

various angles of her face in the mirror.

"Lovely, madam," squeaked Hokey.

Harry could only assume that it was down in Hokey's contract that she

must lie through her teeth when asked this question, because Hepzibah

Smith looked a long way from lovely in his opinion. A tinkling doorbell

rang and both mistress and elf jumped.

"Quick, quick, he's here, Hokey!" cried Hepzibah and the elf scurried

out of the room, which was so crammed with objects that it was

difficult to see how anybody could navigate their way across it without

knocking over at least a dozen things: There were cabinets full of little

lacquered boxes, cases full of gold-embossed books, shelves of orbs and

celestial globes, and many flourishing potted plants in brass containers.

In fact, the room looked like a cross between a magical antique shop

and a conservatory.

"Welcome to my family," said Alice, "most of that stuff got distributed

around after her death we probably have a good portion of the rubbish

sitting in the attic, although I think there were a few nice pieces among the

utter rubbish there."

"I am going to go out on a limb and guess that your family is fairly well

off," said Hermione.

"Uh-huh," said Alice, "another one of the old rich families, not quite the

same league as those two idiots there," she gestured towards Sirius and

Regulus, "but we are pretty old, apparently we can trace ancestry to Helga

Hufflepuff and beyond."

The house-elf returned within minutes, followed by a tall young man

Harry had no difficulty whatsoever in recognizing as Voldemort. He

was plainly dressed in a black suit; his hair was a little longer than it

had been at school and his cheeks were hollowed, but all of this suited

him; he looked more handsome than ever.

"It is really disturbing how he always notices that," said Alice.

He picked his way through the cramped room with an air that showed

he had visited many times before and bowed low over Hepzibah's fat

little hand, brushing it with his lips.

"I brought you flowers," he said quietly, producing a bunch of roses

from nowhere.

"You naughty boy, you shouldn't have!" squealed old Hepzibah, though

Harry noticed that she had an empty vase standing ready on the

nearest little table.

"I guess they have done that before," said Frank.

"You do spoil this old lady, Tom… Sit down, sit down… Where's

Hokey? Ah…"

The house-elf had come dashing back into the room carrying a tray of

little cakes, which she set at her mistress's elbow.

"Help yourself, Tom," said Hepzibah, "I know how you love my cakes.

Now, how are you? You look pale. They overwork you at that shop, I've

said it a hundred times…"

Voldemort smiled mechanically and Hepzibah simpered.

"Well, what's your excuse for visiting this time?" she asked, battering

her lashes.

"Mr. Burke would like to make an improved offer for the goblin-made

armor," said Voldemort. "Five hundred Galleons, he feels it is a more

than fair —"

"Now, now, not so fast, or I'll think you're only here for my trinkets!"

pouted Hepzibah.

"I am ordered here because of them," said Voldemort quietly. "I am

only a poor assistant, madam, who must do as he is told. Mr. Burke

wishes me to inquire —"

"Oh, Mr. Burke, phooey!" said Hepzibah, waving a little hand. "I've

something to show you that I've never shown Mr. Burke! Can you keep

a secret, Tom? Will you promise you won't tell Mr. Burke I've got it?

He'd never let me rest if he knew I'd shown it to you, and I'm not

selling, not to Burke, not to anyone! But you, Tom, you'll appreciate it

for its history, not how many Galleons you can get for it."

"I'm guessing we are about to see the infamous heirloom," said James, "do

you know what it is?"

"I think it belonged to Hufflepuff, not really sure though, after all never let

the truth get in the way of a good old family mystery," said Alice, "I am

rather curious, I will admit though."

"I'd be glad to see anything Miss Hepzibah shows me," said Voldemort

quietly, and Hepzibah gave another girlish giggle.

"Considering how much old enchanted crap we have," said Alice, "that is

not surprising."

"I had Hokey bring it out for me… Hokey, where are you? I want to

show Mr. Riddle our finest treasure… In fact, bring both, while you're

at it…"

"Here, madam," squeaked the house-elf, and Harry saw two leather

boxes, one on top of the other, moving across the room as if of their own

volition, though he knew the tiny elf was holding them over her head as

she wended her way between tables, pouffes, and footstools.

"Now," said Hepzibah happily, taking the boxes from the elf, laying

them in her lap, and preparing to open the topmost one, "I think you'll

like this, Tom… Oh, if my family knew I was showing you… They can't

wait to get their hands on this!"

She opened the lid. Harry edged forward a little to get a better view

and saw what looked like a small golden cup with two finely wrought

handles.

Hermione scowled slightly, she wasn't really all that fond of the cup, or the

things which preceded its retrieval for that matter.

"I wonder whether you know what it is, Tom? Pick it up, have a good

look!" whispered Hepzibah, and Voldemort stretched out a long-

fingered hand and lifted the cup by one handle out of its snug silken

wrappings. Harry thought he saw a red gleam in his dark eyes. His

greedy expression was curiously mirrored on Hepzibah's face, except

that her tiny eyes were fixed upon Voldemort's handsome features.

"A badger," murmured Voldemort, examining the engraving upon the

cup. "Then this was…?"

"Helga Hufflepuff's, as you very well know, you clever boy!" said

Hepzibah,

"So it was true," said Alice, "it was a hufflepuff relic that went missing, I

thought that was just boasting to make the story more interesting."

"What is in the other box then?" aske Lily, "any ideas, Al?"

Alice shook her head, "probably not anything that was highly desired by the

family, as the cup is what the story is about, unless she miraculously has

other founders' relics hidden away in her house that we don't know about."

leaning forward with a loud creaking of corsets and actually pinching

his hollow cheek. "Didn't I tell you I was distantly descended? This has

been handed down in the family for years and years. Lovely, isn't it?

And all sorts of powers it's supposed to possess too, but I haven't tested

them thoroughly, I just keep it nice and safe in here…"

She hooked the cup back off Voldemort's long forefinger and restored

it gently to its box, too intent upon settling it carefully back into

position to notice the shadow that crossed Voldemort's face as the cup

was taken away.

"Seems kleptomania is going to make a comeback into Mr Riddle's

character," said Lily.

"Kleptomaniac, megalomaniac, this guy is too maniacal," said Alice

shaking her head.

"Now then," said Hepzibah happily, "where's Hokey? Oh yes, there

you are — take that away now, Hokey."

The elf obediently took the boxed cup, and Hepzibah turned her

attention to the much flatter box in her lap.

"I think you'll like this even more, Tom," she whispered. "Lean in a

little, dear boy, so you can see… Of course, Burke knows I've got this

one, I bought it from him, and I daresay he'd love to get it back when

I'm gone…"

She slid back the fine filigree clasp and flipped open the box. There

upon the smooth crimson velvet lay a heavy golden locket.

"Could that be his mother's locket?" asked James.

"Probably," agreed Sirius, "it fits, after all it was an heirloom sold to Burke,

of course he would sell it after awhile and would probably love to retain

such a profitable object after Hepizbah Smith's death."

Voldemort reached out his hand, without invitation this time, and held

it up to the light, staring at it.

"Slytherin's mark," he said quietly, as the light played upon an ornate,

serpentine S.

"That's right!" said Hepzibah, delighted, apparently, at the sight of

Voldemort gazing at her locket, transfixed. "I had to pay an arm and a

leg for it, but I couldn't let it pass, not a real treasure like that, had to

have it for my collection. Burke bought it, apparently, from a ragged-

looking woman who seemed to have stolen it, but had no idea of its true

value —"

There was no mistaking it this time: Voldemort's eyes flashed scarlet at

the words, and Harry saw his knuckles whiten on the locket's chain.

"Not surprising," commented Frank.

"How would he know that it belonged to his mother though?" asked James.

"Interesting question," commented Albus, "most likely he put it together

himself, he knew that his family were the heirs of Slytherin, therefore that

there is the possibility of such an heirloom belonging to himself, however

since he worked at Borgin and Burke's, who would not hesitate to regale

their young protégé with their business exploits, he would probably have

heard the story of his mother, without them realising that they were telling

him."

"Perhaps that is part of the reason why he stayed there for so long, he was

trying to track down his own family heirlooms," commented Regulus,

"probably why he always charmed Hepzibah, because he probably knew it

was sold to her and needed confirmation that it didn't move on from the

sale, best way would be to see it for himself."

"— I daresay Burke paid her a pittance but there you are… Pretty,

isn't it? And again, all kinds of powers attributed to it, though I just

keep it nice and safe…"

She reached out to take the locket back. For a moment, Harry thought

Voldemort was not going to let go of it, but then it had slid through his

fingers and was back in its red velvet cushion.

"So there you are, Tom, dear, and I hope you enjoyed that!"

She looked him full in the face and for the first time, Harry saw her

foolish smile falter.

"Are you all right, dear?"

"Oh yes," said Voldemort quietly. "Yes, I'm very well…"

"I thought — but a trick of the light, I suppose —" said Hepzibah,

looking unnerved, and Harry guessed that she too had seen the

momentary red gleam in Voldemort's eyes.

Regulus nodded minutely, the whole red-eyed thing wasn't really the most

appealing feature of the Dark Lord, unless of course he was trying to scare

the bejeezes out of someone, then it was rather effective.

"Here, Hokey, take these away and lock them up again… The usual

enchantments…"

"Time to leave, Harry," said Dumbledore quietly, and as the in tie elf

bobbed away bearing the boxes, Dumbledore grasped Harry once

again above the elbow and together they rose up through oblivion and

back to Dumbledore's office.

"That was interesting," observed Frank.

"To say the least," said Alice, looking rather shocked that a member of her

family was most likely killed by the Dark Lord, even if it wasn't a member

she liked or knew, the fact was that someone in her family's life was

devalued to the point that a few trinkets were worth more than the woman

herself.

"Hepzibah Smith died two days after that little scene," said

Dumbledore, resuming his seat and indicating that Harry should do the

same.

"I guess that is the answer to the mystery of the murder and the missing tea

cup," said James, "I'm sorry though Smith, it is really bad that a member of

your family was murdered by the monster."

Alice shrugged, "I didn't exactly know her, all it shows is that Tom Riddle is

a ruthless maniac who will do anything to get his way, even murder, but

then again that is something we already knew."

"Hokey the house-elf was convicted by the Ministry of poisoning her

mistress's evening cocoa by accident."

"How convenient," said Severus dryly.

"No way!" said Harry angrily.

"I see we are of one mind," said Dumbledore. "Certainly, there are

many similarities between this death and that of the Riddles. In both

cases, somebody else took the blame, someone who had a clear memory

of having caused the death —"

"Hokey confessed?"

"She remembered putting something in her mistress's cocoa that

turned out not to be sugar, but a lethal and little-known poison," said

Dumbledore.

"Why would a lethal and little know poison be in the same place as where

she prepared cocoa?" asked Alice, "that is utterly ridiculous, shouldn't there

be questions about why such an ingredient was in her house?"

"It was concluded that she had not meant to do it, but being old and

confused —"

"Voldemort modified her memory, just like he did with Morfin!"

"Yes, that is my conclusion too," said Dumbledore. "And, just as with

Morfin, the Ministry was predisposed to suspect Hokey —"

"— because she was a house-elf," said Harry. He had rarely felt more

in sympathy with the society Hermione had set up, S.P.E.W.

Hermione let out a genuine smile at that, she was proud of Harry for that

comment.

"Precisely," said Dumbledore. "She was old, she admitted to having

tampered with the drink, and nobody at the Ministry bothered to

inquire further. As in the case of Morfin, by the time I traced her and

managed to extract this memory, her life was almost over — but her

memory, of course, proves nothing except that Voldemort knew of the

existence of the cup and the locket.

"Do you have that memory yet?" asked Alice. Dumbledore shook his head

in the negative.

"I wonder what year you get that memory, or if it would be too late to clear

Hokey," mused Sirius with a rather devious grin, that usually meant that

some sort of elabourate scheme was brewing in the depths of his mind.

"Why do you ask?" asked Lily, looking wary.

"Just thinking," said Sirius innocently.

"That is the problem," muttered Lily.

"By the time Hokey was convicted, Hepzibah's family had realized that

two of her greatest treasures were missing. It took them a while to be

sure of this, for she had many hiding places, having always guarded her

collection most jealously. But before they were sure beyond doubt that

the cup and the locket were both gone, the assistant who had worked at

Borgin and Burkes, the young man who had visited Hepzibah so

regularly and charmed her so well, had resigned his post and vanished.

"What a coincidence," said Severus sarcastically.

His superiors had no idea where he had gone; they were as surprised as

anyone at his disappearance. And that was the last that was seen or

heard of Tom Riddle for a very long time.

"Now," said Dumbledore, "if you don't mind, Harry, I want to pause

once more to draw your attention to certain points of our story.

Voldemort had committed another murder; whether it was his first

since he killed the Riddles, I do not know, but I think it was. This time,

as you will have seen, he killed not for revenge, but for gain. He wanted

the two fabulous trophies that poor, besotted, old woman showed him.

Just as he had once robbed the other children at his orphanage, just as

he had stolen his Uncle Morfin's ring, so he ran off now with Hepzibahs

cup and locket."

"That brings his stolen booty up to three," said Regulus, "which doesn't

make sense!"

"What do you mean?" questioned Lily.

"Well we are under the assumption that the Dark Lord made three

horcruxes," explained Regulus, "which we assumed are the diary, the ring

and one other thing, which we assumed to be the locket, so why did he steal

the cup then if he had his three containers?"

"Why wouldn't he steal it though?" said Sirius, "I mean he doesn't really

appear to be the sort who would not take such a trophy, even if he didn't

need it for the horcruxes, he would probably want it as a trophy and to

discover some of it's hidden powers which could be useful."

"True," conceded Regulus, dismissing the matter from his mind for the

moment.

"But," said Harry, frowning, "it seems mad… Risking everything,

throwing away his job, just for those…"

"It isn't really the prime job, it isn't like he was giving up being the minister

of magic or something, he was a glorified check-out chick," said Lily.

Hermione snorted, she wondered what would happen if someone called the

infamous Voldemort that to his face.

"Mad to you, perhaps, but not to Voldemort," said Dumbledore. "I

hope you will understand in due course exactly what those objects

meant to him, Harry, but you must admit that it is not difficult to

imagine that he saw the locket, at least, as rightfully his."

"The locket maybe," said Harry, "but why take the cup as well?"

"It had belonged to another of Hogwarts's founders," said Dumbledore.

"I think he still felt a great pull toward the school and that he could not

resist an object so steeped in Hogwarts history. There were other

reasons, I think… I hope to be able to demonstrate them to you in due

course.

Minerva's eyes narrowed, after several years as a teacher, she was very

adept at understanding the nuances of Albus' language, it seemed that

young Regulus' point was not as silly as it was made out to be... surely

Voldemort could not have had four horcruxes? The thought of having so

many was so appalling and was beyond her realm of imagination.

"And now for the very last recollection I have to show you, at least until

you manage to retrieve Professor Slughorn's memory for us. Ten years

separates Hokey's memory and this one, ten years during which we can

only guess at what Lord Voldemort was doing…"

Harry got to his feet once more as Dumbledore emptied the last

memory into the Pensieve.

"Whose memory is it?" he asked.

"Mine," said Dumbledore.

"Of course," murmured Albus, it must be the memory of his application for

the defence position.

And Harry dived after Dumbledore through the shifting silver mass,

landing in the very office he had just left. There was Fawkes

slumbering happily on his perch, and there behind the desk was

Dumbledore, who looked very similar to the Dumbledore standing

beside Harry, though both hands were whole and undamaged and his

face was, perhaps, a little less lined. The one difference between the

present-day office and this one was that it was snowing in the past;

bluish flecks were drifting past the window in the dark and building up

on the outside ledge. The younger Dumbledore seemed to be waiting for

something, and sure enough, moments after their arrival, there was a

knock on the door and he said, "Enter."

Harry let out a hastily stifled gasp. Voldemort had entered the room.

His features were not those Harry had seen emerge from the great

stone cauldron almost two years ago: They were not as snake-like, the

eyes were not yet scarlet, the face not yet masklike, and yet he was no

longer handsome Tom Riddle.

"That is not what I expected to happen," admitted James looking rather

shocked, "you actually let Riddle into the school."

"It was during the holidays," said Albus, "and I was admittedly curious as to

what he desired, I did not anticipate a huge risk, rest assured nothing

remotely dangerous occurred during the meeting."

It was as though his features had been burned and blurred; they were

waxy and oddly distorted, and the whites of the eyes now had a

permanently bloody look, though the pupils were not yet the slits that

Harry knew they would become. He was wearing a long black cloak,

and his face was as pale as the snow glistening on his shoulders.

"That is the effect of having to much dark magic and distorting your very

essence through rituals and the creation of horcruxes," said Albus,

explaining the changes in description to the room at large.

"In other words, he has made all of his horcruxes," translated Severus

The Dumbledore behind the desk showed no sign of surprise. Evidently

this visit had been made by appointment.

"Good evening, Tom," said Dumbledore easily. "Won't you sit down?"

"Thank you," said Voldemort, and he took the seat to which

Dumbledore had gestured — the very seat, by the looks of it, that

Harry had just vacated in the present. "I heard that you had become

headmaster," he said, and his voice was slightly higher and colder than

it had been. "A worthy choice."

"I am glad you approve," said Dumbledore, smiling. "May I offer you a

drink?"

"That would be welcome," said Voldemort. "I have come a long way."b

"This is rather odd," said Lily looking decided uncomfortable at the image

portrayed in the book, "it seems so... polite, but ugh, I don't know."

Dumbledore stood and swept over to the cabinet where he now kept the

Pensieve, but which then was full of bottles. Having handed Voldemort

a goblet of wine and poured one for himself, he returned to the seat

behind his desk.

"So, Tom… to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Voldemort did not answer at once, but merely sipped his wine.

"They do not call me 'Tom' anymore," he said. "These days, I am

known as —"

"I know what you are known as," said Dumbledore, smiling, pleasantly.

"But to me, I'm afraid, you will always be Tom Riddle. It is one of the

irritating things about old teachers. I am afraid that they never quite

forget their charges' youthful beginnings."

"Point to Dumbledore," commentated James.

He raised his glass as though toasting Voldemort, whose face remained

expressionless. Nevertheless, Harry felt the atmosphere in the room

change subtly: Dumbledore's refusal to use Voldemort's chosen name

was a refusal to allow Voldemort to dictate the terms of the meeting,

and Harry could tell that Voldemort took it as such.

Albus' eyes twinkled slightly, Harry was correct his refusal to concede was

very much by design.

"I am surprised you have remained here so long," said Voldemort after

a short pause. "I always wondered why a wizard such as yourself never

wished to leave school."

"Well," said Dumbledore, still smiling, "to a wizard such as myself,

there can be nothing more important than passing on ancient skills,

helping hone young minds. If I remember correctly, you once saw the

attraction of teaching too."

"I see it still," said Voldemort.

"I don't really see the attraction of having a murder as a teacher though,

quite honestly," said Alice.

"I merely wondered why you — who are so often asked for advice by

the Ministry, and who have twice, I think, been offered the post of

Minister —"

"Three times at the last count, actually," said Dumbledore. "But the

Ministry never attracted me as a career. Again, something we have in

common, I think."

Voldemort inclined his head, unsmiling, and took another sip of wine.

Dumbledore did not break the silence that stretched between them now,

but waited, with a look of pleasant expectancy, for Voldemort to talk

first.

"I have returned," he said, after a little while, "later, perhaps, than

Professor Dippet expected… but I have returned, nevertheless, to

request again what he once told me I was too young to have. I have

come to you to ask that you permit me to return to this castle, to teach.

I think you must know that I have seen and done much since I left this

place. I could show and tell your students things they can gain from no

other wizard."

"I think there is a reason they aren't being shown such things, thank you

very much," said James quite coldly, the idea of teaching children the dark

arts was utterly repulsive to him and went against everything he believed in.

Dumbledore considered Voldemort over the top of his own goblet for a

while before speaking.

"Yes, I certainly do know that you have seen and done much since

leaving us," he said quietly. "Rumours of your doings have reached

your old school, Tom. I should be sorry to believe half of them."

Voldemort's expression remained impassive as he said, "Greatness

inspires envy, envy engenders spite, spite spawns lies. You must know

this, Dumbledore."

"You call it 'greatness,' what you have been doing, do you?" asked

Dumbledore delicately.

"I would award that comment another point if I was you," said Frank, easily

able to see the rebuke the headmaster's words.

"Certainly," said Voldemort, and his eyes seemed to burn red. "I have

experimented; I have pushed the boundaries of magic further, perhaps,

than they have ever been pushed —"

"Considering the type of magic you are pushing, that is not necessarily a

good thing," commented Frank dryly.

"Of some kinds of magic," Dumbledore corrected him quietly. "Of

some. Of others, you remain… forgive me… woefully ignorant."

For the first time, Voldemort smiled. It was a taut leer, an evil thing,

more threatening than a look of rage.

Regulus definitely agreed with that sentiment.

"The old argument," he said softly. "But nothing I have seen in the

world has supported your famous pronouncements that love is more

powerful than my kind of magic, Dumbledore."

"Perhaps you have been looking in the wrong places," suggested

Dumbledore.

"Well, then, what better place to start my fresh researches than here, at

Hogwarts?" said Voldemort. "Will you let me return? Will you let me

share my knowledge with your students? I place myself and my talents

at your disposal. I am yours to command."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "And what will become of those

whom you command? What will happen to those who call themselves

— or so rumour has it — the Death Eaters?"

"He had them already?" asked Alice.

"This memory is about nine years old," said Albus, "it occurred about a year

before Tom and his group moved into the open and became a true public

threat, rather than just another obscure political group, Tom had a following

long before he became the Dark Lord he is at present, I doubt he would

have risen so high if he didn't have such a powerful support base in the

years leading up to it."

Harry could tell that Voldemort had not expected Dumbledore to know

this name; he saw Voldemort's eyes flash red again and the slitlike

nostrils flare.

"My friends," he said, after a moment's pause, "will carry on without

me, I am sure."

"I am glad to hear that you consider them friends," said Dumbledore.

"I was under the impression that they are more in the order of

servants."

"You are mistaken," said Voldemort.

"Then if I were to go to the Hog's Head tonight, I would not find a

group of them — Nott, Rosier, Muldber, Dolohov — awaiting your

return? Devoted friends indeed, to travel this far with you on a snowy

night, merely to wish you luck as you attempted to secure a teaching

post."

"Point three to the headmaster," tallied James.

There could be no doubt that Dumbledore's detailed knowledge of

those with whom he was traveling was even less welcome to Voldemort;

however, he rallied almost at once.

"You are omniscient as ever, Dumbledore."

"Oh no, merely friendly with the local barmen," said Dumbledore

lightly.

This time Minerva almost snorted, she knew Aberforth rather well, she had

never once heard the term 'friend' described to his and Albus' relationship,

yes they were brothers, allies, however they were not best described as

friends, there was too much history between the two for that to happen,

Minerva didn't have the foggiest idea of what their past was, but she knew

that it was great barrier in their relationship.

"Now, Tom…"

Dumbledore set down his empty glass and drew himself up in his seat,

the tips of his fingers together in a very characteristic gesture.

"Let us speak openly. Why have you come here tonight, surrounded by

henchmen, to request a job we both know you do not want?"

Voldemort looked coldly surprised. "A job I do not want? On the

contrary, Dumbledore, I want it very much."

"Oh, you want to come back to Hogwarts, but you do not want to teach

any more than you wanted to when you were eighteen. What is it you're

after, Tom? Why not try an open request for once?"

"I don't think saying, Hi my name is Tom, and I am a megalomaniac dark

lord and would like the opportunity to be paid while I pervert and corrupt

the next generation of children for my cause and own personal enjoyment,

would exactly work," said James rather sarcastically.

Voldemort sneered. "If you do not want to give me a job —"

"Of course I don't," said Dumbledore. "And I don't think for a

moment you expected me to. Nevertheless, you came here, you asked,

you must have had a purpose."

'Did he ever' thought Hermione to herself, Harry was right once again, he

came and stashed the diadem and then decided to give the rest of it a whirl,

since he has already completed what he came to do.

Voldemort stood up. He looked less like Tom Riddle than ever, his

features thick with rage. "This is your final word?"

"It is," said Dumbledore, also standing.

"Then we have nothing more to say to each other."

"No, nothing," said Dumbledore, and a great sadness filled his face.

"The time is long gone when I could frighten you with a burning

wardrobe and force you to make repayment for your crimes. But I wish

I could, Tom… I wish I could…"

"I don't think that condescension is going to go down well," observed

Regulus.

For a second, Harry was on the verge of shouting a pointless warning:

He was sure that Voldemort's hand had twitched toward his pocket and

his wand; but then the moment had passed, Voldemort had turned

away, the door was closing, and he was gone.

Harry felt Dumbledore's hand close over his arm again and moments

later, they were standing together on almost the same spot, but there

was no snow building on the window ledge, and Dumbledore's hand

was blackened and dead-looking once more.

"Why?" said Harry at once, looking up into Dumbledore's face. "Why

did he come back? Did you ever find out?"

"I have ideas," said Dumbledore, "but no more than that."

"You think it is more than just influencing the next generation?" asked Lily.

Albus declined answering, he had a theory spinning in his head, but was

still hesitant to share it.

"What ideas, sir?"

"I shall tell you, Harry, when you have retrieved that memory from

Professor Slughorn," said Dumbledore. "When you have that last piece

of the jigsaw, everything will, I hope, be clear… to both of us."

"Now i am definitely curious about what that memory holds," said Lily.

"Please wait until after lunch though," begged Remus, "there is only a few

lines left of the chapter and I really need to eat."

"he does" agreed Sirius, "I can hear his stomach from hear."

Harry was still burning with curiosity and even though Dumbledore

had walked to the door and was holding it open for him, he did not

move at once.

"Was he after the Defence Against the Dark Arts job again, sir? He

didn't say…"

"Oh, he definitely wanted the Defence Against the Dark Arts job," said

Dumbledore. "The aftermath of our little meeting proved that. You see,

we have never been able to keep a Defence Against the Dark Arts

teacher for longer than a year since I refused the post to Lord

Voldemort."

"So we were right about the curse," said James.

"Curious," said Severus, though his mind thinking, "i wonder what that

would mean for me as teacher, because I am marked as one of his death

eaters by that point, would that curse include me?"

"An interesting thought," mused Albus, "we will have to see what happens,

however since the chapter appears to be over, I believe we could all benefit

from some lunch and a short break."

"An excellent idea, if I do say so myself," said Remus, stomach a-rumbling.

AN: Thanks for reading, please review! Cheers!

21. Chapter 21

The Unknowable Room

AN: Hello again, here is another chapter in this delightful saga, for your

enjoyment. A huge thanks to those who have messaged and reviewed, it

was much appreciated. As per normal, I own nothing which you can

recognise, although you have probably picked up on that by now. I hope

you enjoy the next chapter. Happy Reading! Cheers!

"I think compliments to the house-elves are in order," said Sirius, "that was

an absolutely brilliant lunch, I love taco day."

"It is so much better than what Tuney has to eat at school," said Lily, "I

don't know if I could survive on spam and overcooked cabbage after being

at Hogwarts for so long, if nothing else the food is worth coming to school

for."

"What time will the teachers get back?" queried Hermione.

"I think we have another few minutes," said James checking his watch.

"It still amazes me that they leave every meal break to make sure no-one

has burnt the school down," commented Regulus, "considering the most

probable offenders are in this room, I would be more concerned about

leaving everyone here to their own devices."

"Perhaps they foolishly trust Potter's abilities as a head boy to keep his

friends in line," snickered Alice.

"What abilities?" questioned Severus snarkily, "I've never seen him exercise

any form of restraint on his idiotic friends."

"That would be because his idiotic friends are not so idiotic as to not remind

said head boy that they have six and a half years worth of blackmail

material, and counting, to let slip to either the delightful Miss Evans or our

illustrious head of house if he gets such a silly idea in his head," responded

Sirius with a smirk.

"Besides the fact that the school is still standing is a testament to my

capabilities as a head," pointed out James wryly.

"Your capabilities?" asked Lily pointedly, "I think you are mistaking that for

my capabilities."

"Yes dear," replied James rolling his eyes and then looked at Lily lovingly,

"no matter how strong we are individually though, we work better as a

team, in everything we do, not just head duties."

Lily couldn't help smile at her prat of a boyfriend after that, he might be a

prat, but he was her lovable, romantic prat.

"I guess that is my cue to go throw up," said Alice cheerfully.

"You are Longbottom are just as bad if not worse though," complained

Remus.

"And proud of it," said Alice, "it is not nauseating if you are the one doing

it, something you seem determined never to find out, Wolfboy."

Hermione snorted, Remus did eventually take the time to learn it for

himself, but it was obviously quite a struggle to do so, so Alice's comment

was more than accurate in this instance. The banter tided the room over

until the professors' arrival not long after, soon they were all settled down

and ready to have Hermione read the next chapter.

"The Unknowable Room" read out Hermione.

"Mysterious," commented Regulus.

"That would have to be here, wouldn't it?" said James, "after all how many

more unknown rooms can the castle hold?"

"Have you been down to the chamber of secrets?" asked Hermione. Of

course everyone shook their head in the negative, "then there is at least one,

so why not be quiet and let me read."

"Someone is PMSing, and it is not Moony," commented James.

"I heard that," said Hermione not bothering to look up at him.

"Oi," said an offended Remus at the same time.

Harry wracked his brains over the next week as to how he was to

persuade Slughorn to hand over the true memory, but nothing in the

nature of a brain wave occurred and he was reduced to doing what he

did increasingly these days when at a loss: poring over his Potions

book, hoping that the Prince would have scribbled something useful in

a margin, as he had done so many times before.

"You won't find anything in there," said Hermione firmly, late on

Sunday evening.

"Don't start, Hermione," said Harry. "If it hadn't been for the Prince,

Ron wouldn't be sitting here now."

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

Hermione dismissively.

"Without the prompting of the Prince," said Severus pointedly, "would you

have immediately thought to use a bezoar?"

Hermione stayed silently, because while she may have thought of it

eventually, it wouldn't have been the instant reaction that Harry had and

Ron probably would have died.

Harry ignored her. He had just found an incantation

("Sectumsempra!") scrawled in a margin above the intriguing words

"For enemies," and was itching to try it out, but thought it best not to

in front of Hermione.

Severus looked pale as did Lily, that was not a spell to use on a person

arbitrarily, if he did that it would have horrible results. The spell wasn't

even intended for use on people, although they adapted it as a special

duelling spell later, it's original purpose was to be a strong cutting spell that

would enable them to magically cut through animal carcasses and other

special materials for potions.

Instead, he surreptitiously folded down the corner of the page.

Bad idea, thought Lily, bad, bad idea.

They were sitting beside the fire in the common room; the only other

people awake were fellow sixth years. There had been a certain amount

of excitement earlier when they had come back from dinner to find a

new sign on the notice board that announced the date for their

Apparition Test. Those who would be seventeen on or before the first

test date, the twenty-first of April, had the option of signing up for

additional practice sessions, which would take place (heavily

supervised) in Hogsmeade.

Ron had panicked on reading this notice; he had still not managed to

Apparate and feared he would not be ready for the test. Hermione, who

had now achieved Apparition twice, was a little more confident, but

Harry, who would not be seventeen for another four months, could not

take the test whether ready or not.

"At least you can Apparate, though!" said Ron tensely. "You'll have no

trouble come July!"

"I've only done it once," Harry reminded him; he had finally managed

to disappear and rematerialize inside his hoop during their previous

lesson.

"That is impressive considering he didn't splinch on his first go," said

Minerva.

Having wasted a lot of time worrying aloud about Apparition, Ron was

now struggling to finish a viciously difficult essay for Snape that Harry

and Hermione had already completed. Harry fully expected to receive

low marks on his, because he had disagreed with Snape on the best way

to tackle Dementors, but he did not care: Slughorn's memory was the

most important thing to him now.

"That is good to see," said Lily proudly, "both that Harry is doing his

homework for the headmaster, but is also trying and seems to be working

hard for school."

"You realise that apart from that first lesson, I haven't been mentioned at all

this book for my teaching," observed Severus.

"I know," said Hermione, "that is because Harry is good at the subject and

has no problems with the course work, so you have no means to antagonise

him and when you did he always passed, so you had no reason to keep

doing it. But I think everything with the prophecy and all else that was

going on, Harry was working hard for school that year, I was really proud

of him."

"Yet we don't see you telling him that at all, do we?" said Severus.

"I know," said Hermione regretfully, "I was being an idiot that year.

Considering Frank's theory it probably would have meant a lot to him."

"I'm telling you, the stupid Prince isn't going to be able to help you

with this, Harry!" said Hermione, more loudly. "There's only one way

to force someone to do what you want, and that's the Imperius Curse,

which is illegal —"

"Yeah, I know that, thanks," said Harry, not looking up from the book.

"That's why I'm looking for something different. Dumbledore says

Veritaserum won't do it, but there might be something else, a potion or

a spell…"

"You're going about it the wrong way," said Hermione. "Only you can

get the memory, Dumbledore says. That must mean you can persuade

Slughorn where other people can't. It's not a question of slipping him a

potion, anyone could do that —"

"How do you spell 'belligerent'?" said Ron, shaking his quill very hard

while staring at his parchment. "It can't be B — U — M —"

"Surely he should know that," said Severus, "or was he truly a dunderhead

after all."

"No, it isn't," said Hermione, pulling Ron's essay toward her. "And

'augury' doesn't begin O — R — G either. What kind of quill are you

using?"

"It's one of Fred and George's Spell-Check ones, but I think the charm

must be wearing off."

"Or was replaced by one that spelt rude words or deliberately misspelt

words," said James.

"Actually, that is probably about right," said Hermione, "because even

though Ron isn't the world's best speller, he doesn't usually use augury and

orgy interchangeably, how did you guess that?."

"It is what I would do," said Sirius, "besides didn't the twins visit him in the

hospital wing, so they probably did it then."

"I feel mildly relieved now," said Hermione, "I was beginning to think that

he was going senile or something or that Lavander had turned his brains

into mush."

"Yes, it must," said Hermione, pointing at the title of his essay,

"because we were asked how we'd deal with dementors, not 'Dugbogs',

and I don't remember you changing your name to 'Roonil Wazlib'

either."

"Ah no!" said Ron, staring horror-struck at the parchment. "Don't say

I'll have to write the whole thing out again!"

"It's okay, we can fix it," said Hermione, pulling the essay toward her

and taking out her wand.

"I love you, Hermione," said Ron, sinking back in his chair, rubbing his

eyes wearily.

Hermione turned faintly pink, but merely said, "Don't let Lavender

hear you saying that."

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

me."

"Grow a pair why don't you," said Alice, "seriously he knows nothing about

women that boy, he just needs to suck it up and do it, rather than pussy-

footing around and leading her on like a wimp. Is he a Gryffindor or not?"

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

"You haven't ever chucked anyone, have you?" said Ron. "You and

Cho just —"

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

"Wish that would happen with me and Lavender," said Ron gloomily,

watching Hermione silently tapping each of his misspelled words with

the end of her wand, so that they corrected themselves on the page.

"But the more I hint I want to finish it, the tighter she holds on. It's like

going out with the giant squid."

"Lovely comparison," said Alice, "it is a wonder that anyone would go out

with him if he compares them continually to sea creatures, which fyi boys,

is not a good thing."

"There," said Hermione, some twenty minutes later, handing back

Ron's essay.

"Thanks a million," said Ron. "Can I borrow your quill for the

conclusion?" Harry, who had found nothing useful in the Half-Blood

Prince's notes so far, looked around; the three of them were now the

only ones left in the common room, Seamus having just gone up to bed

cursing Snape and his essay. The only sounds were the crackling of the

fire and Ron scratching out one last paragraph on Dementors using

Hermione's quill. Harry had just closed the Half-Blood Prince's book,

yawning, when —

Crack.

Hermione let out a little shriek; Ron spilled ink all over his freshly

completed essay, and Harry said, "Kreacher!"

"I take it, its report time," said Remus dryly, "Where's Dobby?"

"In terms of insanity," said Sirius, "only a few points behind Kreacher."

The house-elf bowed low and addressed his own gnarled toes. "Master

said he wanted regular reports on what the Malfoy boy is doing, so

Kreacher has come to give —"

Crack.

Dobby appeared alongside Kreacher, his tea-cozy hat askew. "Dobby

has been helping too, Harry Potter!" he squeaked, casting Kreacher a

resentful look. "And Kreacher ought to tell Dobby when he is coming to

see Harry Potter so they can make their reports together!"

"What is this?" asked Hermione, still looking shocked by these sudden

appearances. "What's going on, Harry?"

Harry hesitated before answering, because he had not told Hermione

about setting Kreacher and Dobby to tail Malfoy; house-elves were

always such a touchy subject with her.

"Understatement of the century," said Regulus.

"I'll have you know that I have been very calm that year," said Hermione.

"But no less shrewish," pointed out Regulus, "you seem to have moved

your obsession onto the Prince book... and you said that Harry was the one

with obsessive tendencies."

"Oi!" said Hermione, "that wasn't very nice."

"Doesn't stop it from being true," said Regulus with a shrug and a slight

smirk, showing that he enjoyed provoking the time-traveller.

"Well… they've been following Malfoy for me," he said.

"Night and day," croaked Kreacher.

"Dobby has not slept for a week, Harry Potter!" said Dobby proudly,

swaying where he stood. Hermione looked indignant.

"I don't think Harry was after that type of dedication," said Lily.

"Can't really blame him though," said James, "it isn't as though he knows

the obsessive nature of house-elves having grown up in a muggle

household."

"You haven't slept, Dobby? But surely, Harry, you didn't tell him not to

—"

"No, of course I didn't," said Harry quickly. "Dobby, you can sleep, all

right? But has either of you found out anything?" he hastened to ask,

before Hermione could intervene again.

"Master Malfoy moves with a nobility that befits his pure blood,"

croaked Kreacher at once. "His features recall the fine bones of my

mistress and his manners are those of —"

"Do we really have to hear this?" asked Sirius, with a look of mild disgust

on his face, "I got enough of the Black family perfection at home from the

little bugger, I don't need to hear it now."

"Sirius," said Hermione with a slight scolding tone.

"'you do not live up to the fine features which were bestowed upon you by

my mistress, you should kiss the very ground she walks on for having sired

you'. Never mind that she is an utter cow and a horrible woman. I doubt,

especially with your temper Mie, that it would be something you would

handle with equanimity," said Sirius.

"Surely she didn't say that!" said Hermione disbelievingly.

Regulus snorted, "it was actually pretty close, however I don't think Sear

could have stomached repeating any more of the sterling adjectives given to

my mother."

"Draco Malfoy is a bad boy!" squeaked Dobby angrily. "A bad boy

who — who —" He shuddered from the tassel of his tea cozy to the toes

of his socks and then ran at the fire, as though about to dive into it.

Harry, to whom this was not entirely unexpected, caught him around

the middle and held him fast. For a few seconds Dobby struggled, then

went limp.

"At least he has some knowledge," said Frank, looking slightly amused at

the situation.

"Thank you, Harry Potter," he panted. "Dobby still finds it difficult to

speak ill of his old masters."

Harry released him; Dobby straightened his tea cozy and said defiantly

to Kreacher, "But Kreacher should know that Draco Malfoy is not a

good master to a house-elf!"

"Yeah, we don't need to hear about you being in love with Malfoy,"

Harry told Kreacher. "Let's fast forward to where he's actually been

going."

Kreacher bowed again, looking furious, and then said, "Master Malfoy

eats in the Great Hall, he sleeps in a dormitory in the dungeons, he

attends his classes in a variety of —"

"Dobby, you tell me," said Harry, cutting across Kreacher. "Has he

been going anywhere he shouldn't have?"

"Don't worry about Kreacher," said Regulus, "he was just being vindictive,

he doesn't seem to like Harry."

"Probably more the fact that he didn't seem to like me, and I liked Harry,"

said Sirius caustically.

"And once again we see Black's arrogance in believing that the entire world

revolves around him," said Severus sarcastically.

"Harry Potter, sir," squeaked Dobby, his great orblike eyes shining in

the firelight, "the Malfoy boy is breaking no rules that Dobby can

discover, but he is still keen to avoid detection. He has been making

regular visits to the seventh floor with a variety of other students, who

keep watch for him while he enters —"

"The Room of Requirement!" said Harry, smacking himself hard on

the forehead with Advanced Potion-Making. Hermione and Ron stared

at him. "That's where he's been sneaking off to! That's where he's

doing… whatever he's doing! And I bet that's why he's been

disappearing off the map — come to think of it, I've never seen the

Room of Requirement on there!"

"Maybe the Marauders never knew the room was there," said Ron.

Said marauders looked sheepish.

"I think it'll be part of the magic of the room," said Hermione. "If you

need it to be unplottable, it will be."

"I prefer Hermione's explanation," said James with a slight grin.

"Dobby, have you managed to get in to have a look at what Malfoy's

doing?" said Harry eagerly.

"No, Harry Potter, that is impossible," said Dobby.

"No, it's not," said Harry at once. "Malfoy got into our headquarters

there last year, so I'll be able to get in and spy on him, no problem."

"But I don't think you will, Harry," said Hermione slowly. "Malfoy

already knew exactly how we were using the room, didn't he, because

that stupid Marietta had blabbed. He needed the room to become the

headquarters of the D.A., so it did. But you don't know what the room

becomes when Malfoy goes in there, so you don't know what to ask it to

transform into."

"There'll be a way around that," said Harry dismissively. "You've done

brilliantly, Dobby."

"Shouldn't be too hard," said James, "after all we know that he is plotting

something, most likely murder, so if you ask for that it shouldn't be too

hard."

"Kreacher's done well too," said Hermione kindly; but far from

looking grateful, Kreacher averted his huge, bloodshot eyes and

croaked at the ceiling, "The Mudblood is speaking to Kreacher,

Kreacher will pretend he cannot hear —"

"Sorry about that," apologised Regulus to Hermione, "I really should try

and get him away from Mother for a bit, when she isn't influencing him he

isn't all that bad."

Hermione squeezed his hand, "it okay."

"Get out of it," Harry snapped at him, and Kreacher made one last

deep bow and Disapparated. "You'd better go and get some sleep too,

Dobby."

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

vanished.

"How good is this?" said Harry enthusiastically, turning to Ron and

Hermione the moment the room was elf-free again. "We know where

Malfoy's going! We've got him cornered now!"

"Yeah, it's great," said Ron glumly, who was attempting to mop up the

sodden mass of ink that had recently been an almost completed essay.

Hermione pulled it toward her and began siphoning the ink off with

her wand.

"But what's all this about him going up there with a variety of

students'?" said Hermione. "How many people are in on it? You

wouldn't think he'd trust lots of them to know what he's doing—"

"Yeah, that is weird," said Harry, frowning. "I heard him telling

Crabbe it wasn't Crabbe's business what he was doing… so what's he

telling all these… all these…" Harry's voice tailed away; he was staring

at the fire. "God, I've been stupid," he said quietly. "It's obvious, isn't

it? There was a great vat of it down in the dungeon… He could've

nicked some any time during that lesson…"

"Clarification please," said Lily calmly.

"Nicked what?" said Ron.

"Polyjuice Potion. He stole some of the Polyjuice Potion Slughorn

showed us in our first Potions lesson… There aren't a whole variety of

students standing guard for Malfoy… it's just Crabbe and Goyle as

usual… Yeah, it all fits!" said Harry, jumping up and starting to pace

in front of the fire. "They're stupid enough to do what they're told even

if he won't tell them what he's up to, but he doesn't want them to be

seen lurking around outside the Room of Requirement, so he's got them

taking Polyjuice to make them look like other people… Those two girls

I saw him with when he missed Quidditch — ha! Crabbe and Goyle!"

"You know, the image of those two as innocent girls, would probably make

all of this worth it," said James, "provided Draco doesn't succeed of

course."

"Do you mean to say," said Hermione in a hushed voice, "that that little

girl whose scales I repaired —?"

"Yeah, of course!" said Harry loudly, staring at her. "Of course! Malfoy

must've been inside the room at the time, so she — what am I talking

about? — he dropped the scales to tell Malfoy not to come out, because

there was someone there! And there was that girl who dropped the

toadspawn too! We've been walking past him all the time and not

realizing it!"

"He is remarkably good at piecing things together," said Lily.

"He gets it from you," said James with a shoulder nudge and a smile.

"Don't worry James, you aren't too bad at it either, I think it was a joint

effort," said Lily returning the smile.

"He is," said Hermione proudly, "he always has been, that is what he is like

with everything, especially school work, it might not make sense for a

while, but once he puts it all together in a way that he understands nothing

can stop him."

"That makes catching him easier though too," said Remus, "after all if you

can stun the two idiots, and wait, or just hang around under the cloak you

should be able to see Malfoy when he goes in or out, as he won't know that

Harry is following him."

"He's got Crabbe and Goyle transforming into girls?" guffawed Ron.

"Blimey… no wonder they don't look too happy these days. I'm

surprised they don't tell him to stuff it."

"Well, they wouldn't, would they, if he's shown them his Dark Mark?"

said Harry.

"Hmmm… the Dark Mark we don't know exists," said Hermione

skeptically, rolling up Ron's dried essay before it could come to any

more harm and handing it to him.

"What do you think the probability of it not existing is?" asked Severus

pointedly.

"Back then quite high," said Hermione, "I couldn't believe that he would be

so stupid as to want one, or that Riddle would be so depraved as to actually

force a sixteen year old to be branded like cattle for all eternity."

"I think you are forgetting that the depravity of Riddle knows no bounds,"

said Alice, "after all this is the guy who went to murder a toddler, so I don't

think the usual scales of humanity apply."

"We'll see," said Harry confidently.

"Yes, we will," Hermione said, getting to her feet and stretching. "But,

Harry, before you get all excited, I still don't think you'll be able to get

into the Room of Requirement without knowing what's there first. And

I don't think you should forget"— she heaved her bag onto her

shoulder and gave him a very serious look — "that what you're

supposed to be concentrating on is getting that memory from Slughorn.

Good night."

Harry watched her go, feeling slightly disgruntled. Once the door to the

girls' dormitories had closed behind her he rounded on Ron. "What

d'you think?"

"Wish I could Disapparate like a house-elf," said Ron, staring at the

spot where Dobby had vanished. "I'd have that Apparition Test in the

bag."

"Nice attention span," said James, snickering slightly.

Harry did not sleep well that night. He lay awake for what felt like

hours, wondering how Malfoy was using the Room of Requirement and

what he, Harry, would see when he went in there the following day, for

whatever Hermione said, Harry was sure that if Malfoy had been able

to see the headquarters of the D.A., he would be able to see Malfoy's,

what could it be? A meeting place? A hideout? A store-room? A

workshop? Harrys mind worked feverishly and his dreams, when he

finally fell asleep, were broken and disturbed by images of Malfoy, who

turned into Slughorn, who turned into Snape…

Harry was in a state of great anticipation over breakfast the following

morning; he had a free period before Defense Against the Dark Arts

and was determined to spend it trying to get into the Room of

Requirement. Hermione was rather ostentatiously showing no interest

in his whispered plans for forcing entry into the room, which irritated

Harry, because he thought she might be a lot of help if she wanted to.

"Probably," admitted Hermione, "but I thought the attempt was juvenile and

quite stupid, although I should have supported him, he was my friend after

all, and he supported me throughout my SPEW years even though he

thought it was stupid as well."

"Look," he said quietly, leaning forward and putting a hand on the

Daily Prophet, which she had just removed from a post owl, to stop her

from opening it and vanishing behind it. "I haven't forgotten about

Slughorn, but I haven't got a clue how to get that memory off him, and

until I get a brain wave why shouldn't I find out what Malfoy's doing?"

"I've already told you, you need to persuade Slughorn," said Hermione.

"It's not a question of tricking him or bewitching him, or Dumbledore

could have done it in a second. Instead of messing around outside the

Room of Requirement"— she jerked the Prophet out from under

Harrys hand and unfolded it to look at the front page — "you should

go and find Slughorn and start appealing to his better nature."

"He has a better nature?" asked Sirius.

"I figured that if Harry explained what he needed it for and how important it

was, that he would accept it," said Hermione.

"That is utter crap," said Severus bluntly, "Slughorn is a Slytherin and is not

stupid enough to depart with it willingly. It is obviously something he

desperately wants to hide if he has taken the time to suppress it, people are

selfish and inherently screwed up, Slughorn would want to protect himself

at all costs, besides he would probably just justify it to himself as Harry

exaggerating."

"Well how would you go about it then O Cunning One?" asked Hermione

testily, not giving him a chance to answer before returning to reading the

chapter.

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

"Yes!" said Hermione, causing both Harry and Ron to gag on their

breakfast. "But it's all right, he's not dead — its Mundungus, he's been

arrested and sent to Azkaban! Something to do with impersonating an

Inferius during an attempted burglary,

"So he was just being an utter pillock then," said Minerva, "nothing new

there."

and someone called Octavius Pepper has vanished. Oh, and how

horrible, a nine-year-old boy has been arrested for trying to kill his

grandparents, they think he was under the Imperius Curse."

"Poor kid," said Lily, "imagine having to live with yourself after trying to

do that!"

"I feel bad for the grandparents," said James, "because it must be horrifying

to see your grandson do that and they wouldn't be able to do anything about

it either, after all they wouldn't want to do anything to harm their own

grandchild."

"How would you deal with that situation?" said Alice.

"It is a dilemma many face, Ms Smith, both now and in the future," said

Albus sombrely, "does anyone know what the auror's solution is?"

Frank nodded, "auror policy is to place a second imperious curse on the

victim to stop them from committing the crime, usually to drop their wand

and take a restrained position, from which they can be transported to either

St Mungo's or the ministry."

"Correct," said Minerva, "often having a second imperius curse placed on

you will remove the first, unless it was significantly more powerful,

therefore once the second is removed after the situation is dealt with will

restore the balance, there are several instances when this won't work, does

anyone know them?"

Sirius, Regulus and Severus all exchanged glances which signified that they

all did.

Hermione decided to hazard a guess, she admittedly found this impromptu

lesson quite fascinating, "I guess with what you said about the original

caster being more powerful. However I guess this is quite rare."

"Why would that be rare?" prompted Minerva.

"Because..." Hermione paused to think for a moment, "because the power of

the curse diminishes with time, therefore the newer curse would generally

be more powerful than the existing curse."

"Correct," said Minerva, "Ms Evans, can you try and tell me another reason

why the second curse might not always work, although it only happens

rarely."

"I don't know," said Lily meekly.

"That is alright, child," said Minerva, "I want you to try and think about it

and figure it out."

Lily took a moment to consider it.

"Perhaps if the orders did not contradict each other, then there would be no

reason for the curses to be in opposition, therefore the override would not

occur," said Lily slowly. Severus nodded encouragingly, she was on the

right track, "however because you are purposely asking to contradict their

prior orders, that would be quite rare also."

"Well done," said Minerva, "if we weren't in the room I would award you

points for that deduction, which is correct. Since these two instances only

happen rarely the auror solution is generally effective."

"Is it right though for the aurors to have that power?" asked James, "what if

they abuse it?"

"The use of the unforgivables once they were authorised are under tight

regulation," said Minerva, "all auror wands have a monitoring charm on

them which alerts the ministry if they use the curse, if they do there is a

mountain of paperwork to get through afterwards. For those of you from the

muggle world, the procedure following such a spell is like the procedure

when a policeman is forced to shoot someone, there are strict regulations

surrounding it."

"That was enlightening," said Remus.

They finished their breakfast in silence. Hermione set off immediately

for Ancient Runes; Ron for the common room, where he still had to

finish his conclusion on Snape's Dementor essay, and Harry for the

corridor on the seventh floor and the stretch of wall opposite the

tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy teaching trolls to do ballet.

Harry slipped on his Invisibility Cloak once he had found an empty

passage, but he need not have bothered. When he reached his

destination he found it deserted. Harry was not sure whether his

chances of getting inside the room were better with Malfoy inside it or

out, but at least his first attempt was not going to be complicated by the

presence of Crabbe or Goyle pretending to be an eleven-year-old girl.

He closed his eyes as he approached the place where the Room of

Requirement's door was concealed. He knew what he had to do; he had

become most accomplished at it last year. Concentrating with all his

might he thought, I need to see what Malfoy's doing in here… I need to

see what Malfoy's doing in here… I need to see what Malfoy's doing in

here…

"He is going about it the wrong way," predicted Remus.

Three times he walked past the door; then, his heart pounding with

excitement, he opened his eyes and faced it — but he was still looking at

a stretch of mundanely blank wall. He moved forward and gave it an

experimental push. The stone remained solid and unyielding.

"Okay," said Harry aloud. "Okay… I thought the wrong thing…" He

pondered for a moment then set off again, eyes closed, concentrating as

hard as he could. I need to see the place where Malfoy keeps coming

secretly… I need to see the place where Malfoy keeps coming secretly…

After three walks past, he opened his eyes expectantly.

There was no door.

"Oh, come off it," he told the wall irritably. "That was a clear

instruction. Fine." He thought hard for several minutes before striding

off once more. I need you to become the place you become for Draco

Malfoy…

"He probably needs the actual use of the room or the purpose of the room

Draco is in, his whole approach is flawed," analysed Frank.

He did not immediately open his eyes when he had finished his

patrolling; he was listening hard, as though he might hear the door pop

into existence. He heard nothing, however, except the distant twittering

of birds outside. He opened his eyes. There was still no door. Harry

swore. Someone screamed. He looked around to see a gaggle of first

years running back around the corner, apparently under the

impression that they had just encountered a particularly foulmouthed

ghost.

Harry tried every variation of I need to see what Draco Malfoy is doing

inside you that he could think of for a whole hour, at the end of which

he was forced to concede that Hermione might have had a point: The

room simply did not want to open for him. Frustrated and annoyed, he

set off for Defence Against the Dark Arts, pulling off his Invisibility

Cloak and stuffing it into his bag as he went.

"Late again, Potter," said Snape coldly, as Harry hurried into the

candlelit classroom. "Ten points from Gryfrindor." Harry scowled at

Snape as he flung himself into the seat beside Ron. Half the class were

still on their feet, taking out books and organizing their things; he

could not be much later than any of them.

"Before we start, I want your dementor essays," said Snape, waving his

wand carelessly, so that twenty-five scrolls of parchment soared into the

air and landed in a neat pile on his desk. "And I hope for your sakes

they are better than the tripe I had to endure on resisting the Imperius

Curse. Now, if you will all open your books to page — what is it, Mr.

Finnigan?"

"Sir," said Seamus, "I've been wondering, how do you tell the

difference between an Inferius and a ghost? Because there was

something in the paper about an Inferius —"

"No, there wasn't," said Snape in a bored voice.

"But sir, I heard people talking —"

"If you had actually read the article in question, Mr. Finnigan, you

would have known that the so-called Inferius was nothing but a smelly

sneak thief by the name of Mundungus Fletcher."

"Apparently you don't like Mundungus," observed Frank.

"I have a low tolerance for stupidity," replied Severus.

"I thought Snape and Mundungus were on the same side," muttered

Harry to Ron and Hermione. "Shouldn't he be upset Mundungus has

been arrest —"

"But Potter seems to have a lot to say on the subject," said Snape,

pointing suddenly at the back of the room, his black eyes fixed on

Harry. "Let us ask Potter how we would tell the difference between an

Inferius and a ghost."

The whole class looked around at Harry, who hastily tried to recall

what Dumbledore had told him the night that they had gone to visit

Slughorn. "Er — well — ghosts are transparent —" he said.

"I suppose that is one answer," said Lily looking quite amused at her son's

response, "though probably not the one that Sev was looking for."

"I imagine not," agreed Alice.

"Be proud that was the first time Snape managed to trip Harry up in class

all year," said Hermione.

"Oh, very good," interrupted Snape, his lip curling. "Yes, it in easy to

see that nearly six years of magical education have not been wasted on

you, Potter. 'Ghosts are transparent.'"

"It sounds so stupid when Snape puts it like that," said James defending his

son, "your future self didn't even let him finish."

Pansy Parkinson let out a high-pitched giggle. Several other people

were smirking. Harry took a deep breath and continued calmly, though

his insides were boiling, "Yeah, ghosts are transparent, but Inferi are

dead bodies, aren't they? So they'd be solid —"

"A five-year-old could have told us as much," sneered Snape. "The

Inferius is a corpse that has been reanimated by a Dark wizard's spells.

It is not alive, it is merely used like a puppet to do the wizard's bidding.

A ghost, as I trust that you are all aware by now, is the imprint of a

departed soul left upon the earth, and of course, as Potter so wisely tells

us, transparent."

"Well, what Harry said is the most useful if we're trying to tell them

apart!" said Ron. "When we come face-to-face with one down a dark

alley, we're going to be having a look to see if its solid, aren't we, we're

not going to be asking, 'Excuse me, are you the imprint of a departed

soul?'"

There were quite a few chuckles resounding through the room at that point.

"Mr Weasley does seem to have a point," said Albus looking distinctly

amused.

There was a ripple of laughter, instantly quelled by the look Snape gave

the class.

"Another ten points from Gryffindor," said Snape. "I would expect

nothing more sophisticated from you, Ronald Weasley, the boy so solid

he cannot Apparate half an inch across a room."

"Ouch," said Regulus, "that was low."

"Would it have been better if I remarked on his lack of bravery and balls

which has lead to his inability to dump a female?" drawled Severus.

"Why not?" asked Alice, "it would have been fun to read his reaction."

"At least he has a female willing to go out with him," retorted James.

"No!" whispered Hermione, grabbing Harry's arm as he opened his

mouth furiously. "There's no point, you'll just end up in detention

again, leave it!"

"Now open your books to page two hundred and thirteen," said Snape,

smirking a little, "and read the first two paragraphs on the Cruciatus

Curse."

Ron was very subdued all through the class. When the bell sounded at

the end of the lesson, Lavender caught up with Ron and Harry

(Hermione mysteriously melted out of sight as she approached) and

abused Snape hotly for his jibe about Ron's Apparition, but this

seemed to merely irritate Ron, and he shook her off by making a detour

into the boys' bathroom with Harry.

"Snape's right, though, isn't he?" said Ron, after staring into a cracked

mirror for a minute or two. "I dunno whether it's worth me taking the

test. I just can't get the hang of Apparition."

"You might as well do the extra practice sessions in Hogsmeade and see

where they get you," said Harry reasonably. "It'll be more interesting

than trying to get into a stupid hoop anyway. Then, if you're still not —

you know — as good as you'd like to be, you can postpone the test, do it

with me over the summer — Myrtle, this is the boys' bathroom!"

The ghost of a girl had risen out of the toilet in a cubicle behind them

and was now floating in midair, staring at them through thick, white,

round glasses. "Oh," she said glumly. "It's you two."

"I thought she liked Harry?" asked James, "bathtub stalking and all that."

"Who were you expecting?" said Ron, looking at her in the mirror.

"Nobody," said Myrtle, picking moodily at a spot on her chin. "He said

he'd come back and see me, but then you said you'd pop in and visit me

too"— she gave Harry a reproachful look — "and I haven't seen you

for months and months. I've learned not to expect too much from

boys."

"Does she have another crush?" said Lily.

"Probably good, as Harry can do better than a hormonal ghost," said James.

"I thought you lived in that girls' bathroom?" said Harry, who had

been careful to give the place a wide berth for some years now.

"I do," she said, with a sulky little shrug, "but that doesn't mean I can't

visit other places. I came and saw you in your bath once, remember?"

"Vividly," said Harry.

"But I thought he liked me," she said plaintively. "Maybe if you two

left, he'd come back again. We had lots in common. I'm sure he felt it."

"I wonder who her latest victim is?" commented James.

"That wasn't very nice," scolded Lily, giving his a light swat.

And she looked hopefully toward the door. "When you say you had lots

in common," said Ron, sounding rather amused now, "d'you mean he

lives in an S-bend too?"

"At least I didn't say that," pointed out James.

"No," said Myrtle defiantly, her voice echoing loudly around the old

tiled bathroom. "I mean he's sensitive, people bully him too, and he

feels lonely and hasn't got anybody to talk to, and he's not afraid to

show his feelings and cry!"

"Poor kid," said Lily, "I hope he feels better soon."

"There's been a boy in here crying?" said Harry curiously. "A young

boy?"

"Never you mind!" said Myrtle, her small, leaky eyes fixed on Ron,

who was now definitely grinning. "I promised I wouldn't tell anyone,

and I'll take his secret to the —"

"— not the grave, surely?" said Ron with a snort. "The sewers,

maybe."

Hermione interrupted herself snorting slightly, "as much as I hate to admit

it, James was right, at this point he has nothing on Ron. Inconsiderate prat."

However her criticism was bellied by a fond and slightly nostalgic smile, as

she thought about her two friends.

Myrtle gave a howl of rage and dived back into the toilet, causing water

to slop over the sides and onto the floor. Goading Myrtle seemed to

have put fresh heart into Ron. "You're right," he said, swinging his

schoolbag back over his shoulder, "I'll do the practice sessions in

Hogsmeade before I decide about taking the test."

And so the following weekend, Ron joined Hermione and the rest of the

sixth years who would turn seventeen in time to take the test in a

fortnight. Harry felt rather jealous watching them all get ready to go

into the village; he missed making trips there, and it was a particularly

fine spring day, one of the first clear skies they had seen in a long time.

However, he had decided to use the time to attempt another assault on

the Room of Requirement.

"You'd do better," said Hermione, when he confided this plan to Ron

and her in the entrance hall, "to go straight to Slughorn's office and try

and get that memory from him."

"I've been trying!" said Harry crossly, which was perfectly true. He

had lagged behind after every Potions lesson that week in an attempt to

corner Slughorn, but the Potions master always left the dungeon so fast

that Harry had not been able to catch him. Twice, Harry had gone to

his office and knocked, but received no reply, though on the second

occasion he was sure he had heard the quickly stifled sounds of an old

gramophone.

"He is avoiding him," surmised Regulus, "Slughorn can be very persistent, I

think Harry would do better than to catch him off guard somehow, don't ask

me how, I don't know, but if he keeps trying and being obvious he is just

going to make Slughorn more and more suspicious and cautious about the

whole thing."

"He doesn't want to talk to me, Hermione! He can tell I've been trying

to get him on his own again, and he's not going to let it happen!"

"Well, you've just got to keep at it, haven't you?"

The short queue of people waiting to file past Filch, who was doing his

usual prodding act with the Secrecy Sensor, moved forward a few steps

and Harry did not answer in case he was overheard by the caretaker.

He wished Ron and Hermione both luck, then turned and climbed the

marble staircase again, determined, whatever Hermione said, to devote

an hour or two to the Room of Requirement.

Once out of sight of the entrance hall, Harry pulled the Marauder's

Map and his Invisibility Cloak from his bag. Having concealed himself,

he tapped the map, murmured, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no

good," and scanned it carefully.

As it was Sunday morning, nearly all the students were inside their

various common rooms, the Gryffindors in one tower, the Ravenclaws

in another, the Slytherins in the dungeons, and the Hufflepuffs in the

basement near the kitchens. Here and there a stray person meandered

around the library or up a corridor. There were a few people out in the

grounds, and there, alone in the seventh-floor corridor, was Gregory

Goyle. There was no sign of the Room of Requirement, but Harry was

not worried about that; if Goyle was standing guard outside it, the

room was open, whether the map was aware of it or not. He therefore

sprinted up the stairs, slowing down only when he reached the corner

into the corridor, when he began to creep, very slowly, toward the very

same little girl, clutching her heavy brass scales, that Hermione had so

kindly helped a fortnight before. He waited until he was right behind

her before bending very low and whispering, "Hello… you're very

pretty, aren't you?"

"Well that would have been fun, if not detrimental to no one knowing about

Harry's presence," commented Frank.

"I think his aim might be to make him/her leave," said Lily, "not the way I

would go about it, I admit, but it would probably work."

Goyle gave a high-pitched scream of terror, threw the scales up into the

air, and sprinted away, vanishing from sight long before the sound of

the scales smashing had stopped echoing around the corridor.

Laughing, Harry turned to contemplate the blank wall behind which,

he was sure, Draco Malfoy was now standing frozen, aware that

someone unwelcome was out there, but not daring to make an

appearance. It gave Harry a most agreeable feeling of power as he tried

to remember what form of words he had not yet tried.

"He needs to guess what is in there and if he is right the room would open,"

said Frank, "or at least that is my perception of it."

Yet this hopeful mood did not last long. Half an hour later, having tried

many more variations of his request to see what Malfoy was up to, the

wall was just as doorless as ever. Harry felt frustrated beyond belief

Malfoy might be just feet away from him, and there was still not the

tiniest shred of evidence as to what he was doing in there. Losing his

patience completely, Harry ran at the wall and kicked it.

"I am sure that would help the cause," said Remus wryly, "kicking solid

objects never really helps anything, right Padfoot?"

Sirius gave a shifty smile, "I will admit to punching a few solid walls in my

time."

"You mean like the time when you actually broke the bones in your hand?"

asked James, "that was the stupidest thing I had ever seen."

"I figured it would be a softer punch than your head, which is what I was

originally going to aim for," retorted Sirius.

"So my ego saved the day again?" teased James.

"So he finally admits to having an over-large ego," commented Alice, "only

took him seven years."

"OUCH!"

He thought he might have broken his toe; as he clutched it and hopped

on one foot, the Invisibility Cloak slipped off him.

"Harry?"

He spun around, one-legged, and toppled over. There, to his utter

astonishment, was Tonks, walking toward him as though she frequently

strolled up this corridor.

"What're you doing here?" he said, scrambling to his feet again; why

did she always have to find him lying on the floor?

"Attack of the teenage pride," said Alice.

"No one likes to embarrass themselves around a pretty girl though," said

James.

"Yet you did it constantly for six years," commented Lily dryly.

"I came to see Dumbledore," said Tonks. Harry thought she looked

terrible: thinner than usual, her mouse-coloured hair lank.

Sirius and Regulus both turned serious at the mention of Tonk's description.

"I hope she is alright," said Sirius worriedly.

"Perhaps she needs..." began James.

"Don't finish that sentence, James, otherwise I will charm yellow lemmings

to chase you around the castle for a week," warned Lily.

"Don't worry," assured Hermione, "she gets better soon enough."

"You know what is wrong with her," stated Regulus.

Hermione nodded, "I wasn't sure, but I had an idea at the time and know for

certain now."

"What is wrong with her," asked Sirius.

"Let's just say, Potter's solution isn't too far off," she said.

"I will kill the bastard who did this to her," threatened Sirius, "no one gets

away with hurting Nymphie on me."

No one quite understood why that statement amused Hermione so much.

"His office isn't here," said Harry, "it's round the other side of the

castle, behind the gargoyle—"

"If she is anything like her cousin, she would have spent a considerable

amount of time in that office," said Minerva, "thankfully I won't be the one

who will have to deal with that generation of Blacks."

"I know," said Tonks. "He's not there. Apparently he's gone away

again."

"Has he?" said Harry, putting his bruised foot gingerly back on the

floor. "Hey — you don't know where he goes, I suppose?"

"No," said Tonks.

"What did you want to see him about?"

"Nothing in particular," said Tonks, picking, apparently unconsciously,

at the sleeve of her robe. "I just thought he might know what's going

on. I've heard rumours… people getting hurt."

"Curious."

"Yeah, I know, it's all been in the papers," said Harry. "That little kid

trying to kill his —"

"The Prophet's often behind the times," said Tonks, who didn't seem to

be listening to him. "You haven't had any letters from anyone in the

Order recently?"

"No one from the Order writes to me anymore," said Harry, "not since

Sirius —" He saw that her eyes had filled with tears.

"Poor girl," said Lily sympathetically.

"I'm sorry," he muttered awkwardly. "I mean… I miss him, as well."

"What?" said Tonks blankly, as though she had not heard him. "Well…

I'll see you around, Harry…"

And she turned abruptly and walked back down the corridor, leaving

Harry to stare after her. After a minute or so, he pulled the Invisibility

Cloak on again and resumed his efforts to get into the Room of

Requirement, but his heart was not in it. Finally, a hollow feeling in his

stomach and the knowledge that Ron and Hermione would soon be

back for lunch made him abandon the attempt and leave the corridor

to Malfoy who, hopefully, would be too afraid to leave for some hours

to come. He found Ron and Hermione in the Great Hall, already

halfway through an early lunch.

"I did it — well, kind of!" Ron told Harry enthusiastically when he

caught sight of him. "I was supposed to be Apparating to outside

Madam Puddifoots Tea Shop and I overshot it a bit, ended up near

Scrivenshafts, but at least I moved!"

"Isn't that about three blocks too far?" questioned Severus, "that is more

than a bit, but then I suppose little things amuse little brains."

"Good one," said Harry. "How'd you do, Hermione?"

"Oh, she was perfect, obviously," said Ron, before Hermione could

answer. "Perfect deliberation, divination, and desperation or whatever

the hell it is — we all went for a quick drink in the Three Broomsticks

after and you should've heard Twycross going on about her — I'll be

surprised if he doesn't pop the question soon —"

"He wasn't that bad," said Hermione, bashfully, "Ron was just exaggerating,

like he was prone to do."

"And what about you?" asked Hermione, ignoring Ron. "Have you

been up at the Room of Requirement all this time?"

"Yep," said Harry. "And guess who I ran into up there? Tonks!"

"Tonks?" repeated Ron and Hermione together, looking surprised.

"Yeah, she said she'd come to visit Dumbledore."

"If you ask me," said Ron once Harry had finished describing his

conversation with Tonks, "she's cracking up a bit. Losing her nerve

after what happened at the Ministry."

"It's a bit odd," said Hermione, who for some reason looked very

concerned. "She's supposed to be guarding the school, why she

suddenly abandoning her post to come and see Dumbledore when he's

not even here?"

"I had a thought," said Harry tentatively. He felt strange about voicing

it; this was much more Hermione's territory than his. "You don't think

she can have been… you know… in love with Sirius?"

."Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew!" said Sirius, "I think I need to go scourgify my brain

now. Seriously... don't say it Prongs!" Thankfully the dreaded pun did not

cross anyone's lips.

"I know our parents are second cousins, but I don't think Sirius is that

obsessed with the family," said Regulus.

"Besides Andie would murder me," said Sirius, "I am honest, that woman,

white sheep and all, however she is still as scary as Bella when she is

pissed."

Hermione stared at him. "What on earth makes you say that?"

"I dunno," said Harry, shrugging, "but she was nearly crying when I

mentioned his name, and her Patronus is a big four-legged thing now. I

wondered whether it hadn't become… you know… him."

"It's a thought," said Hermione slowly. "But I still don't know why

she'd be bursting into the castle to see Dumbledore, if that's really why

she was here."

"Goes back to what I said, doesn't it?" said Ron, who was now

shoveling mashed potato into his mouth. "She's gone a bit funny. Lost

her nerve. Women," he said wisely to Harry, "they're easily upset."

"Does he really want to say that?" asked James, "he is sitting next to one."

"Hasn't stopped you yet," pointed out Hermione.

"Since when has Potter even been smart though?" added Severus.

"And yet," said Hermione, coming out of her reverie, "I doubt you'd

find a woman who sulked for half an hour because Madam Rosmerta

didn't laugh at their joke about the hag, the Healer, and the Mimbulus

mimbletonia."

"And snap," said Alice.

Ron scowled.

"And that is the end of the chapter," said Hermione.

"Well that was interesting," said Lily.

"Actually it was rather pointless, we didn't really learn much apart from the

fact Malfoy was using the room, Severus' future self is still an arse and that

Nym is upset, okay that is one worthwhile thing, but my point stands," said

Regulus, summing everything up, "hopefully things will turn out well

enough for Nym."

"Well, perhaps your chapter will be more enlightening then," replied

Hermione with a fake indignant sniff.

"Well hand it over and I will begin reading, as the fair lady commands,"

replied Regulus giving Hermione a smile, which she returned somewhat

shyly.

AN: Thanks for reading, please review! Cheers!

22. Chapter 22

After the Burial

AN: Here is another chapter for your amusement. A big thank you to my

reviewers and those who have sent messages about my story, your feedback

is much appreciated. As usual, I own nothing which you can recognise,

Happy reading! Cheers!

"Seems someone is going to kick the cauldron," observed Regulus, "this

chapter is called After the Burial."

"I hope it is no-one you know," said Lily.

"Obviously it was, otherwise they wouldn't go to the burial," pointed out

Remus.

Silence filled the room as people contemplated who would be the next to

fall, Hermione felt they would all be pleasantly relieved when they

discovered it was Aragog, however she figured they could wallow in it until

then.

"Perhaps that is an indication that you should start reading," pointed out

Hermione, giving Regulus a metaphorical kick up the arse so they could

start the next chapter.

Patches of bright blue sky were beginning to appear over the castle

turrets, but these signs of approaching summer did not lift Harry's

mood. He had been thwarted, both in his attempts to find out what

Malfoy was doing, and in his efforts to start a conversation with

Slughorn that might lead, somehow, to Slughorn handing over the

memory he had apparently suppressed for decades.

"For the last time, just forget about Malfoy," Hermione told Harry

firmly.

"So not going to happen," predicted Alice, "that boy has too much of Lily

and her insane curiosity to do something so rational."

"Because you are the perfect picture of sanity and rationality," pointed out

Lily dryly.

"You said it, not me," joked Alice.

They were sitting with Ron in a sunny corner of the courtyard after

lunch. Hermione and Ron were both clutching a Ministry of Magic

leaflet — Common Apparition Mistakes and How to Avoid Them —

for they were taking their tests that very afternoon, but by and large

the leaflets had not proved soothing to the nerves.

"No they generally just make people more nervous as they basically tell you

how many ways it is possible to screw up," said Remus.

"And Ali has probably done all of them at least once," said Frank.

Ron gave a start and tried to hide behind Hermione as a girl came

around the corner.

"It isn't Lavender," said Hermione wearily.

"Oh, good," said Ron, relaxing.

"Harry Potter?" said the girl. "I was asked to give you this."

"Thanks…"

Harry's heart sank as he took the small scroll of parchment. Once the

girl was out of earshot he said, "Dumbledore said we wouldn't be

having any more lessons until I got the memory!"

"I don't understand completely why that has happened," said Sirius, "not

that I don't think that the memories are important, but why have they been

stretched out for so long over the year, and why hasn't Harry been taught

any other tactics that could help, considering the present circumstances."

Silently he considered the circumstances to be the fact that someone was

out to kill Dumbledore, so he should ideally give all the information straight

away in case Draco somehow got lucky and succeeded, or that rather

intriguing curse in the headmaster's hand proved to be as terminal as Sirius

suspected it to be, no-one who grew up with the Black family library would

doubt the severity of a curse which managed to kill and seemingly poison

an entire limb.

"I cannot divine the future reasoning of myself," was all that Albus said on

the matter.

"Maybe he wants to check on how you're doing?" suggested Hermione,

as Harry unrolled the parchment; but rather than finding

Dumbledore's long, narrow, slanted writing he saw an untidy sprawl,

very difficult to read due to the presence of large blotches on the

parchment where the ink had run.

Dear Harry, Ron and Hermione!

Aragog died last night. Harry and Ron, you met him and you know

how special he was.

"So we were getting nervous over the death of a giant spider, which was

probably in fact a blessing to humanity?" said James.

"Pretty much," said Hermione, "I never met Aragog, and I am quite happy

having it stay that way for all eternity."

"I like how Hagrid used the term 'special'," snickered Sirius, "while he was

probably special to Hagrid, I have a feeling that Aragog was special in a

whole new, and not so pleasant way."

Hermione, I know you'd have liked him. It would mean a lot to me if

you'd nip down for the burial later this evening. I'm planning on doing

it round dusk, that was his favourite time of day.

I know you're not supposed to be out that late, but you can use the

cloak. Wouldn't ask, but I can't face it alone.

Hagrid

"Please tell me you are not going to sneak out of school to attend the

funeral of a dead spider!" said Lily.

"I won't," said Hermione, which was true as well, because she never went.

"It seems that is the case though, considering the fact that in order for

something to take place 'after the burial' said burial must have occurred, and

I doubt it would be included if Harry didn't attend," pointed out Frank

logically.

"Look at this," said Harry, handing the note to Hermione.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," she said, scanning it quickly and passing it to

Ron, who read it through looking increasingly incredulous.

"He's mental" he said furiously. "That thing told its mates to eat Harry

and me! Told them to help themselves! And now Hagrid expects us to

go down there and cry over its horrible hairy body!"

"I think Ron would be more likely to do a little dance over its hairy body,"

said Hermione, "I have never seen anyone so afraid of spiders in my entire

life."

"It's not just that," said Hermione. "He's asking us to leave the castle

at night and he knows security's a million times tighter and how much

trouble we'd be in if we were caught."

"We've been down to see him by night before," said Harry.

"Yes, but for something like this?" said Hermione. "We've risked a lot

to help Hagrid out, but after all — Aragog's dead. If it were a question

of saving him —"

"— I'd want to go even less," said Ron firmly. "You didn't meet him,

Hermione. Believe me, being dead will have improved him a lot."

"From what Harry told me, I think Ron had a point," said Hermione, "dead

is probably Aragog's best form."

"Which is good," said Alice, "because I don't really feel like hearing a

soliloquy about a million giant acromatulas, thank you very much."

"Scared Smith?" challenged Severus.

"Not all, just not much of a spider enthusiast," said Alice, however to prove

her point she conjured a spider and charmed it to tap dance briefly on the

table top.

Harry took the note back and stared down at all the inky blotches all

over it. Tears had clearly fallen thick and fast upon the parchment…

"Harry, you can't be thinking of going," said Hermione. "It's such a

pointless thing to get detention for."

Harry sighed. "Yeah, I know," he said. "I s'pose Hagrid'll have to bury

Aragog without us."

"Yes, he will," said Hermione, looking relieved. "Look, Potions will be

almost empty this afternoon, with us all off doing our tests… Try and

soften Slughorn up a bit then!"

"Fifty-seventh time lucky, you think?" said Harry bitterly.

"Is he exaggerating or not?" asked Lily.

"Probably not," admitted Hermione, "as much grief as I gave him over it, he

did try fairly hard to get the memory, he just didn't have much success."

"Lucky," said Ron suddenly. "Harry, that's it — get lucky!"

"Of course the potion!" said Lily, "that is a brilliant idea."

"What d'you mean?"

"Use your lucky potion!"

"Ron, that's — that's it!" said Hermione, sounding stunned. "Of

course! Why didn't I think of it?"

Harry stared at them both. "Felix Felicis?" he said. "I dunno… I was

sort of saving it…"

"What for?" demanded Ron incredulously.

"What on earth is more important than this memory, Harry?" asked

Hermione.

Harry did not answer. The thought of that little golden bottle had

hovered on the edges of his imagination for some time; vague and

unformulated plans that involved Ginny splitting up with Dean, and

Ron somehow being happy to see her with a new boyfriend, had been

fermenting in the depths of his brain, unacknowledged except during

dreams or the twilight time between sleeping and waking…

"Well that doesn't mean it won't happen during the time he takes the

potion," pointed out James, "it is meant to be a pretty cool potion, so if he

gets lucky, why can't it be in more than one area."

"Harry? Are you still with us?" asked Hermione.

"Wha —? Yeah, of course," he said, pulling himself together. "Well…

okay. If I can't get Slughorn to talk this afternoon, I'll take some Felix

and have another go this evening."

"That's decided, then," said Hermione briskly, getting to her feet and

performing a graceful pirouette. "Destination… determination…

deliberation…" she murmured.

"Oh, stop that," Ron begged her, "I feel sick enough as it is — quick,

hide me!"

"It isn't Lavender!" said Hermione impatiently, as another couple of

girls appeared in the courtyard and Ron dived behind her.

"Cool," said Ron, peering over Hermione's shoulder to check. "Blimey,

they don't look happy, do they?"

"They're the Montgomery sisters and of course they don't look happy,

didn't you hear what happened to their little brother?" said Hermione.

"My guess is something bad, and most likely to do with future Snape's

associates," said James.

"How astute," said Severus, "I guess we know where your son's perchance

to state to blaringly obvious comes from."

"I'm losing track of what's happening to everyone's relatives, to be

honest," said Ron.

"Well, their brother was attacked by a werewolf. The rumor is that

their mother refused to help the Death Eaters. Anyway, the boy was

only five and he died in St. Mungos, they couldn't save him."

"Poor kid," said Remus, feeling very sympathetic, for obvious reasons.

"He died?" repeated Harry, shocked. "But surely werewolves don't kill,

they just turn you into one of them?"

"They sometimes kill," said Ron, who looked unusually grave now.

"I've heard of it happening when the werewolf gets carried away."

"A lot of children and older people die from werewolf bites," said Remus,

"because their bodies just aren't able to fight it."

"How old were you when you were bitten?" asked Hermione softly.

"Eight," said Remus, quietly trying to repress the memories of the time.

"What was the werewolf's name?" said Harry quickly.

"Well, the rumour is that it was that Fenrir Greyback," said Hermione.

Lupin's stricken face was transformed into an ugly scowl at the mention of

Greyback, he let out a low and dangerous growl.

"I knew it — the maniac who likes attacking kids, the one Lupin told

me about!" said Harry angrily.

Hermione looked at him bleakly.

"Harry, you've got to get that memory," she said. "It's all about

stopping Voldemort, isn't it? These dreadful things that are happening

are all down to him…"

"Well said," said Lily with a small smile, "though I wish that it wasn't the

case that such a thing needed to be done. I am sure when we all died, James

and I, as well as Frank and Ali in a way, we did it so that your generation

would be able to live in peace, not have to fight our same battle."

"We don't live in such an ideal world though," said James, "sometimes the

truth hurts, but you need to suck it up and get on with what you have to do,

you can't always dwell upon the what-ifs, they won't change the present,

they will only make it worse."

"Perhaps," said Lily, "but you need a goal, something to fight for, which

you never lose sight of, in order to make it all worth it. For me it is the hope

that our children will not have to fight this war and won't have to grow up

in the wizarding world with this same fear hanging over their heads.

Nobody can take that hope away from me."

"Very philosophical," observed Remus.

The bell rang overhead in the castle and both Hermione and Ron

jumped to their feet, looking terrified.

"You'll do fine," Harry told them both, as they headed toward the

entrance hall to meet the rest of the people taking their Apparition

Test. "Good luck."

"And you too!" said Hermione with a significant look, as Harry headed

off to the dungeons.

There were only three of them in Potions that afternoon: Harry, Ernie,

and Draco Malfoy.

"Only three late babies it seems," said Alice, "that is not many, but

considering the whole size difference between now and the future it is

probably actually about right."

"All too young to Apparate just yet?" said Slughorh genially, "Not

turned seventeen yet?"

They shook their heads.

"Ah well," said Slughorn cheerily, "as we're so few, we'll do something

for fun. I want you all to brew me up something amusing!"

"Could be interesting," said Severus, all the things he could do with that

invitation...

"That sounds good, sir," said Ernie sycophantically, rubbing his hands

together. Malfoy, on the other hand, did not crack a smile.

"What do you mean, 'something amusing'?" he said irritably.

"Oh, surprise me," said Slughorn airily.

Malfoy opened his copy of Advanced Potion-Making with a sulky

expression. It could not have been plainer that he thought this lesson

was a waste of time. Undoubtedly, Harry thought, watching him over

the top of his own book, Malfoy was begrudging the time he could

otherwise be spending in the Room of Requirement. Was it his

imagination, or did Malfoy, like Tonks, look thinner! Certainly he

looked paler; his skin still had that greyish tinge, probably because he

so rarely saw daylight these days. But there was no air of smugness,

excitement, or superiority; none of the swagger that he had had on the

Hogwarts Express, when he had boasted openly of the mission he had

been given by Voldemort… There could be only one conclusion, in

Harry's opinion: The mission, whatever it was, was going badly.

"That is good, I suppose," said Lily.

"However if he is the one attacking people, how long until he lashes out

with another plan which could potentially kill someone," pointed out Sirius.

Hermione couldn't even assure the room no-one died, because it wasn't true.

Cheered by this thought, Harry skimmed through his copy of

Advanced Potion-Making and found a heavily corrected Half-Blood

Prince's version of "An Elixir to Induce Euphoria," which seemed not

only to meet Slughorn's instructions, but which might (Harry's heart

leapt as the thought struck him) put Slughorn into such a good mood

that he would be prepared to hand over that memory if Harry could

persuade him to taste some…

"Now that is starting to be a bit better," said Sirius.

"Do you think it would work?" asked Severus pointedly.

"Not really," said Sirius, "but he is starting to get on the right track."

"Well, now, this looks absolutely wonderful," said Slughorn an hour

and a half later, clapping his hands together as he stared down into the

sunshine yellow contents of Harry's cauldron. "Euphoria, I take it?

And what's that I smell? Mmmm… you've added just a sprig of

peppermint, haven't you? Unorthodox, but what a stroke of

inspiration, Harry, of course, that would tend to counterbalance the

occasional side effects of excessive singing and nose-tweaking… I really

don't know where you get these brain waves, my boy… unless —"

Harry pushed the Half-Blood Prince's book deeper into his bag with his

foot.

"— it's just your mother's genes coming out in you!"

"Oh… yeah, maybe," said Harry, relieved.

Ernie was looking rather grumpy; determined to outshine Harry for

once, he had most rashly invented his own potion, which had curdled

and formed a kind of purple dumpling at the bottom of his cauldron.

"Idiot," sneered Severus, "never create a potion like that, brewing it is only

the last stage, you have to plan everything on paper first, work out

ingredients and try to predict how they will interact and what the results

will be."

Malfoy was already packing up, sour-faced; Slughorn had pronounced

his Hiccuping Solution merely "passable."

The bell rang and both Ernie and Malfoy left at once. "Sir," Harry

began, but Slughorn immediately glanced over his shoulder; when he

saw that the room was empty but for himself and Harry, he hurried

away as fast as he could.

"Slughorn is still too clued in," said Frank.

"He isn't stupid," pointed out Regulus, "quite the opposite he is a Slytherin,

through and through, he has all the cunning which our noble house is

famous for, along with intellect."

"Sounds like he has a fan," drawled Sirius.

"No, just stating a fact, my personal opinion has little influence on the

matter."

"Professor — Professor, don't you want to taste my po —?" called

Harry desperately.

But Slughorn had gone. Disappointed, Harry emptied the cauldron,

packed up his things, left the dungeon, and walked slowly back upstairs

to the common room. Ron and Hermione returned in the late

afternoon.

"Harry!" cried Hermione as she climbed through the portrait hole.

"Harry, I passed!"

"Well done," said the room.

"First time and all," said Sirius, "seems with all the success stories in the

room, little Reggie has a lot to live up to this year."

"Well done!" he said. "And Ron?"

"He — he just failed," whispered Hermione, as Ron came slouching

into the room looking most morose. "It was really unlucky, a tiny thing,

the examiner just spotted that he'd left half an eyebrow behind… How

did it go with Slughorn?"

"No joy," said Harry, as Ron joined them. "Bad luck, mate, but you'll

pass next time — we can take it together."

"Yeah, I s'pose," said Ron grumpily. "But half an eyebrow – like that

matters!"

"It does though," said Minerva, "if he has a problem splinching now, he

could end up in serious trouble if he ever has to do it again under pressure

or when he is nervous, which is when most accidents happen, there is a

reason they are so strict about it."

Hermione felt the splinching problem while on the run made more sense

now.

"I am sure he will get it the next time though," said Lily.

Hermione almost snorted, Ron never actually took the test again, because

they decided it would be too great a risk for someone who is known to be

close to Harry to enter an infiltrated ministry, so he never took before the

run, and afterwards, well it was the last thing on anyone's mind to be

honest.

"I know," said Hermione soothingly, "it does seem really harsh…"

They spent most of their dinner roundly abusing the Apparition

examiner, and Ron looked fractionally more cheerful by the time they

set off back to the common room, now discussing the continuing

problem of Slughorn and the memory.

"So, Harry — you going to use the Felix Felicis or what?" Ron

demanded.

"Yeah, I s'pose I'd better," said Harry. "I don't reckon I'll need all of it,

not twenty-four hours' worth, it can't take all night… I'll just take a

mouthful. Two or three hours should do it."

"It's a great feeling when you take it," said Ron reminiscently. "Like

you can't do anything wrong."

"What are you talking about?" said Hermione, laughing. "You've never

taken any!"

"Yeah, but I thought I had, didn't I?" said Ron, as though explaining

the obvious. "Same difference really…"

"Ah the placebo effect," said Hermione shaking her head, laughing quietly,

"he is such an idiot at times, but I love him anyway."

As they had only just seen Slughorn enter the Great Hall and knew that

he liked to take time over meals, they lingered for a while in the

common room, the plan being that Harry should go to Slughorn s office

once the teacher had had time to get back there. When the sun had

sunk to the level of the treetops in the Forbidden Forest, they decided

the moment had come, and after checking carefully that Neville, Dean,

and Seamus were all in the common room, sneaked up to the boys'

dormitory.

Harry took out the rolled-up socks at the bottom of his trunk and

extracted the tiny, gleaming bottle.

"Well, here goes," said Harry, and he raised the little bottle and look a

carefully measured gulp.

"What does it feel like?" whispered Hermione.

Harry did not answer for a moment. Then, slowly but surely, an

exhilarating sense of infinite opportunity stole through him; he felt as

though he could have done anything, anything at all… and getting the

memory from Slughorn seemed suddenly not only possible, but

positively easy…He got to his feet, smiling, brimming with confidence.

"Excellent," he said. "Really excellent. Right… I'm going down to

Hagrid's."

"Where did that idea come from?" asked Sirius looking worried, "not that I

doubt it would be a good idea, however it is rather freaky considering the

effect the potion has on his brain almost controlling his thoughts."

"Don't worry Black," sneered Severus, "only an idiot would equate Felix

with the imperious curse, it only highlights options that are already

considered and gives you a nudge to the one that is most likely to succeed."

Surprisingly the sarcastic comment did comfort Sirius slightly, who had a

slight phobia of mind control spells and potions, not surprising considering

his delightful cousin touted the idea that if Sirius didn't want to willing join

the Dark Idiot, then a few well-aimed spells would do the trick nicely,

which is why he got of that house so quickly that winter break and joined

the Potter family.

"What?" said Ron and Hermione together, looking aghast.

"No, Harry — you've got to go and see Slughorn, remember?" said

Hermione.

"No," said Harry confidently. "I'm going to Hagrid's, I've got a good

feeling about going to Hagrid's."

"You've got a good feeling about burying a giant spider?" asked Ron,

looking stunned.

"Yeah," said Harry, pulling his Invisibility Cloak out of his bag. "I feel

like it's the place to be tonight, you know what I mean?"

"No," said Ron and Hermione together, both looking positively

alarmed now.

"I was thinking slightly along the same lines as Sirius, to be honest," said

Hermione, "I should have realised he was considering going down there

already, he isn't the type to want to let Hagrid down, knowing him he would

have snuck down anyway."

"This is Felix Felicis, I suppose?" said Hermione anxiously, holding up

the bottle to the light. "You haven't got another little bottle full of — I

don't know —"

"Essence of Insanity?" suggested Ron, as Harry swung his cloak over

his shoulders.

Harry laughed, and Ron and Hermione looked even more alarmed.

"Trust me," he said. "I know what I'm doing… or at least" he strolled

confidently to the door — "Felix does."

"Didn't actually make me feel all that much better," admitted Hermione

with a smile, giving a running commentary of the scene.

He pulled the Invisibility Cloak over his head and set off down the

stairs, Ron and Hermione hurrying along behind him. At the foot of the

stairs, Harry slid through the open door.

"What were you doing up there with her" shrieked Lavender Brown,

staring right through Harry at Ron and Hermione emerging together

from the boys' dormitories.

Harry heard Ron spluttering behind him as he darted across the room

away from them.

"Perhaps if Harry is lucky Ron will finally grow a pair and they won't have

to listen to Lav-Lav," said Alice.

"Nope," said Hermione with a grimace.

"What happened?" asked Lily with a sigh.

"She broke up with him," said Hermione, "he just stood there while she was

yelling."

"Apparently there are some limits to what Felix can do then," said Alice,

"even a lucky potion can't make Ronald Weasley grow a pair."

"That is a bit harsh," said Hermione.

"Not from where I am sitting," said Alice with a shrug, "I prefer people to

be blunt, so I don't respect the fact that Ron is stringing her along, I also

admire gumption, the ability for people to take initiative and achieve what

the need to, even if it isn't the most popular decision. At this point Ronnie-

boy is doing neither of these things. Perhaps you are blinded by love?"

Hermione smiled, "a bit," said Hermione, "more the image of wanting to

love him and deluding myself that we were perfect for each other, which

isn't the case."

Getting through the portrait hole was simple; as he approached it,

Ginny and Dean came through it, and Harry was able to slip between

them. As he did so, he brushed accidentally against Ginny.

"Don't push me, please, Dean," she said, sounding annoyed. "You're

always doing that, I can get through perfectly well on my own…"

"Trouble in paradise," commented James, "he does work fast tonight."

"Harry Potter, relationship wrecker," said Sirius, envisioning blaring,

colourful signs, "but what can you expect considering his father."

The portrait swung closed behind Harry, but not before he had heard

Dean make an angry retort… His feeling of elation increasing, Harry

strode off through the castle. He did not have to creep along, for he met

nobody on his way, but this did not surprise him in the slightest. This

evening, he was the luckiest person at Hogwarts. Why he knew that

going to Hagrid's was the right thing to do, he had no idea. It was as

though the potion was illuminating a few steps of the path at a time. He

could not see the final destination, he could not see where Slughorn

came in, but he knew that he was going the right way to get that

memory. When he reached the entrance hall he saw that Filch had

forgotten to lock the front door. Beaming, Harry threw it open and

breathed in the smell of clean air and grass for a moment before

walking down the steps into the dusk.

It was when he reached the bottom step that it occurred to him how

very pleasant it would be to pass the vegetable patch on his walk to

Hagrid's. It was not strictly on the way, but it seemed clear to Harry

that this was a whim on which he should act, so he directed his feet

immediately toward the vegetable patch, where he was pleased, but not

altogether surprised, to find Professor Slughorn in conversation with

Professor Sprout. Harry lurked behind a low stone wall, feeling at

peace with the world and listening to their conversation.

"Lucky he was out here then," said Frank dryly, stating the blaringly

obvious.

"Seems he gets his memory then," said Alice, "the question is how... my bet

is by conjuring shiny hats and tap-dancing around the grounds with statues

of giraffes and some singing dandelions."

"How on earth would that work?" asked Severus, posing the question on

everyone's mind.

"Would you be able to refuse someone who did that anything?" challenged

Alice, the result was a bewildered silence as the room pondered the

scenario, Alice took this as agreement and the room's concession to her

superior point.

"I do thank you for taking the time, Pomona," Slughorn was saying

courteously, "most authorities agree that they are at their most

efficacious if picked at twilight."

"Oh, I quite agree," said Professor Sprout warmly. "That enough for

you?"

"Plenty, plenty," said Slughorn, who, Harry saw, was carrying an

armful of leafy plants. "This should allow for a few leaves for each of

my third years, and some to spare if anybody over-stews them… Well,

good evening to you, and many thanks again!"

Professor Sprout headed off into the gathering darkness in the

direction of her greenhouses, and Slughorn directed his steps to the

spot where Harry stood, invisible. Seized with an immediate desire to

reveal himself, Harry pulled off the cloak with a flourish.

"Good evening, Professor."

"Merlin's beard, Harry, you made me jump," said Slughotn, stopping

dead in his tracks and looking wary. "How did you get out of the

castle?"

"I think Filch must've forgotten to lock the doors," said Harry

cheerfully, and was delighted to see Slughorn scowl.

"I'll be reporting that man, he's more concerned about litter than

proper security if you ask me… But why are you out then, Harry?"

"Well, sir, it's Hagrid," said Harry, who knew that the right thing to do

just now was to tell the truth. "He's pretty upset… But you won't tell

anyone, Professor? I don't want trouble for him…"

Slughorn's curiosity was evidently aroused. "Well, I can't promise

that," he said gruffly. "But I know that Dumbledore trusts Hagrid to

the hilt, so I'm sure he can't be up to anything very dreadful…"

"Well, it's this giant spider, he's had it for years… It lived in the

forest… It could talk and everything —"

"I heard rumours there were acromantulas in the forest," said

Slughorn softly, looking over at the mass of black trees. "It's true,

then?"

"I see where this is going," said Frank with a grin, "not fully, but in the

immediate future anyway, he is going to cash in on Sluggy's love of rare

potion ingredients, getting his hands on a recently killed acromatula, with

no personal risk is going to go a long way."

"My way was more original," pouted Alice, which was made ridiculous by

her grin.

"Yes," said Harry. "But this one, Aragog, the first one Hagrid ever got,

it died last night. He's devastated. He wants company while he buries it

and I said I'd go."

"Touching, touching," said Slughorn absentmindedly, his large droopy

eyes fixed upon the distant lights of Hagrid's cabin. "But acromantula

venom is very valuable… If the beast only just died it might not yet

have dried out… Of course, I wouldn't want to do anything insensitive

if Hagrid is upset… but if there was any way to procure some… I

mean, it's almost impossible to get venom from an acromantula while

it's alive…" Slughorn seemed to be talking more to himself than Harry

now. "… seems an awful waste not to collect it… might get a hundred

Galleons a pint… To be frank, my salary is not large…"

"He is a rather obvious chap, isn't he," observed a rather amused Frank.

And now Harry saw clearly what was to be done. "Well," he said, with

a most convincing hesitancy, "well, if you wanted to come, Professor,

Hagrid would probably be really pleased… Give Aragog a better send-

off, you know…"

"This is rather amusing," said Lily with a slight giggle, "it is almost like it is

orchestrated, it would have been amusing to see it in real life."

"I would still prefer tap-dancing giraffe statues and singing dandelions,"

injected Alice.

"Yes, of course," said Slughorn, his eyes now gleaming with

enthusiasm. "I tell you what, Harry, I'll meet you down there with a

bottle or two… We'll drink the poor beast's — well — not health — but

we'll send it off in style, anyway, once it's buried. And I'll change my

tie, this one is a little exuberant for the occasion…"

He bustled back into the castle, and Harry sped off to Hagrid's,

delighted with himself.

"Yeh came," croaked Hagrid, when he opened the door and saw Harry

emerging from the Invisibility Cloak in front of him.

"Yeah — Ron and Hermione couldn't, though," said Harry. "They're

really sorry."

"Liar," coughed James.

"Don — don matter… Hed've bin touched yeh're here, though,

Harry…"

"Not so sure about that one," said Remus dryly.

Hagrid gave a great sob. He had made himself a black armband out of

what looked like a rag dipped in boot polish, and his eyes were puffy,

red, and swollen. Harry patted him consolingly on the elbow, which

was the highest point of Hagrid he could easily reach.

"Where are we burying him?" he asked. "The forest?"

"Blimey, no," said Hagrid, wiping his streaming eyes on the bottom of

his shirt. "The other spiders won' let me anywhere near their webs now

Aragog's gone. Turns out it was only on his orders they didn' eat me!

Can yeh believe that, Harry?"

"Honestly, it doesn't surprise me one bit," said Sirius.

The honest answer was "yes"; Harry recalled with painful ease the

scene when he and Ron had come face-to-face with the acromantulas.

They had been quite clear that Aragog was the only thing that stopped

them from eating Hagrid.

"Never bin an area o' the forest I couldn' go before!" said Hagrid,

shaking his head.

"It wasn' easy, gettin' Aragog's body out o' there, I can tell yeh — they

usually eat their dead, see… But I wanted ter give 'im a nice burial… a

proper send-off…"

He broke into sobs again and Harry resumed the patting of his elbow,

saying as he did so (for the potion seemed to indicate that it was the

right thing to do), "Professor Slughorn met me coming down here,

Hagrid."

"Not in trouble, are yeh?" said Hagrid, looking up, alarmed. "Yeh

shouldn' be outta the castle in the evenin', I know it, it's my fault —"

"No, no, when he heard what I was doing he said he'd like to come and

pay his last respects to Aragog too," said Harry. "He's gone to change

into something more suitable, I think… and he said he'd bring some

bottles so we can drink to Aragog's memory…"

"Alcohol," said Sirius, "the universal truth serum, more effective because

people don't realise they are being dosed. This could be interesting."

Hermione nodded, "all we really got out of Harry was that it was a lot easier

to get the memory when Slughorn was drunk, I am curious about what else

happened though, I wonder if something was said which touched a nerve,

because you would think that he would take more pleasure out of describing

a drunk teacher than he did, mind you the actual memory probably would

have put damper on things too."

"Did he?" said Hagrid, looking both astonished and touched. "Tha's —

tha's righ' nice of him, that is, an' not turnin' yeh in either. I've never

really had a lot ter do with Horace Slughorn before… Comin' ter see

old Aragog off, though, eh? Well… he'd've liked that, Aragog

would…"

Harry thought privately that what Aragog would have liked most

about Slughorn was the ample amount of edible flesh he provided, but

he merely moved to the rear window of Hagrid's hut, where he saw the

rather horrible sight of the enormous dead spider lying on its back

outside, its legs curled and tangled.

"Are we going to bury him here, Hagrid, in your garden?"

"Jus' beyond the pumpkin patch, I thought," said Hagrid in a choked

voice. "I've already dug the — yeh know — grave. Jus' thought we'd

say a few nice things over him — happy memories, yeh know —"

"I'm not sure how many of those Harry would have which featured Aragog,

to be honest," said James.

His voice quivered and broke. There was a knock on the door, and he

turned to answer it, blowing his nose on his great spotted handkerchief

as he did so. Slughorn hurried over the threshold, several bottles in his

arms, and wearing a sombre black cravat.

"Hagrid," he said, in a deep, grave voice. "So very sorry to hear of your

loss."

"Tha's very nice of yeh," said Hagrid. "Thanks a lot. An' thanks fer not

givin Harry detention neither…"

"Wouldn't have dreamed of it," said Slughorn. "Sad night, sad night…

Where is the poor creature?"

"Who is about to make him a rich, rich man," added Sirius.

"Out here," said Hagrid in a shaking voice. "Shall we — shall we do it,

then?"

The three of them stepped out into the back garden. The moon was

glistening palely through the trees now, and its rays mingled with the

light spilling from Hagrid's window to illuminate Aragog's body lying

on the edge of a massive pit beside a ten-foot- high mound of freshly

dug earth.

"Magnificent," said Slughorn, approaching the spiders head, where

eight milky eyes stared blankly at the sky and two huge, curved pincers

shone, motionless, in the moonlight. Harry thought he heard the tinkle

of bottles as Slughorn bent over the pincers, apparently examining the

enormous hairy head.

"Its not ev'ryone appreciates how beau'iful they are' said Hagrid to

Slughorn's back, tears leaking from the corners of his crinkled eyes. "I

didn' know yeh were interested in creatures like Aragog, Horace."

"Interested? My dear Hagrid, I revere them," said Slughorn, stepping

back from the body.

"And the amount of money they are worth," added Sirius.

"I think possessing such rare ingredients would also give him a level of

prestige in the potions community as well," pointed out Severus.

Harry saw the glint of a bottle disappear beneath his cloak, though

Hagrid, mopping his eyes once more, noticed nothing. "Now… shall we

proceed to the burial?"

Hagrid nodded and moved forward. He heaved the gigantic spider into

his arms and, with an enormous grunt, rolled it into the dark pit. It hit

the bottom with a rather horrible, crunchy thud. Hagrid started to cry

again.

"Of course, it's difficult for you, who knew him best," said Slughorn,

who like Harry could reach no higher than Hagrid's elbow, but patted

it all the same. "Why don't I say a few words?"

He must have got a lot of good quality venom from Aragog, Harry

thought, for Slughorn wore a satisfied smirk as he stepped up to the

rim of the pit and said, in a slow, impressive voice, "Farewell, Aragog,

king of arachnids, whose long and faithful friendship those who knew

you won't forget! Though your body will decay, your spirit lingers on in

the quiet, web-spun places of your forest home. May your many-eyed

descendants ever flourish and your human friends find solace for the

loss they have sustained."

"I agree with my son," said James, "only some good quality venom would

warrant such a speech for a dead spider."

"Tha was… tha was… beau'iful!" howled Hagrid, and he collapsed

onto the compost heap, crying harder than ever.

"There, there," said Slughorn, waving his wand so that the huge pile of

earth rose up and then fell, with a muffled sort of crash, onto the dead

spider, forming a smooth mound. "Let's get inside and have a drink.

Get on his other side, Harry… That's it… Up you come, Hagrid… Well

done…"

They deposited Hagrid in a chair at the table. Fang, who had been

skulking in his basket during the burial, now came padding softly

across to them and put his heavy head into Harry's lap as usual.

Slughorn uncorked one of the bottles of wine he had brought.

"I have had it all tested for poison," he assured Harry,

"That is reassuring," said Hermione. Regulus glanced down at the next line,

he didn't think Hermione would have the same good opinion of Slughorn

after his next sentence.

pouring most of the first bottle into one of Hagrid's bucket-sized mugs

and handing it to Hagrid. "Had a house-elf taste every bottle after what

happened to your poor friend Rupert."

"What!" shrieked Hermione, "how dare he use an innocent house-elf in that

way?"

"Not to mention, I don't think your friend's name is Rupert, either," added

Remus dryly.

"You are not helping," said Hermione, "He is treating house-elves like they

are inferior, it doesn't matter to him if they live or die, an attitude shared by

Tom Marvolo Riddle!"

"Calm down," said Regulus, rubbing her back, "I honestly agree with you,

however, there is no use getting worked up over it, you can't change what

has happened. Now take a deep breath and I will move on."

Harry saw, in his mind's eye, the expression on Hermione's face if she

ever heard about this abuse of house elves, and decided never to

mention it to her.

"Probably a wise decision," murmured James quietly to Lily, he knew better

than to let Hermione hear him say that, "and we said that Harry had no

survival instincts..."

"One for Harry…" said Slughorn, dividing a second bottle between two

mugs, "… and one for me. Well"— he raised his mug high — "to

Aragog."

"Aragog," said Harry and Hagrid together. Both Slughorn and Hagrid

drank deeply. Harry, however, with the way ahead illuminated for him

by Felix Felicis, knew that he must not drink, so he merely pretended to

take a gulp and then set the mug back on the table before him.

"I doubt he would have drank anyway," said Hermione, "while he enjoys it

occasionally, Harry isn't much of a drinker and I have never seen him get

anywhere close to intoxicated."

"He doesn't get that from either of his parents," murmured Remus quietly to

Hermione, which made her smile.

"I had him from an egg, yeh know," said Hagrid morosely. "'Tiny little

thing he was when he hatched. 'Bout the size of a Pekingese"

"Sweet," said Slughorn.

"Used ter keep him in a cupboard up at the school until… well…"

Hagrid's face darkened and Harry knew why: Tom Riddle had

contrived to have Hagrid thrown out of school, blamed for opening the

Chamber of Secrets. Slughorn, however, did not seem to be listening;

he was looking up at the ceiling, from which a number of brass pots

hung, and also a long, silky skein of bright white hair.

"Unicorn hair," guessed Remus, "seems Slughorn has found his newest best

friend."

"That's not unicorn hair, Hagrid?"

"Oh, yeah," said Hagrid indifferently. "Gets pulled out of their tails,

they catch it on branches an' stuff in the forest, yeh know…"

"But my dear chap, do you know how much that's worth?"

"I use it fer bindin' on bandages an' stuff if a creature gets in jured,"

said Hagrid, shrugging. "It's dead useful… very strong."

"I think such a trivial use would be affronting to Slughorn's highly

expensive senses," said James.

"I am not sure whether I should remind you that there are other staff

members present," said Minerva pointedly, while she agreed with much of

the comments about her colleague she felt that it was necessary to provide a

token show of disapproval.

"You are thinking the same thing," said Sirius cockily, "we've heard some of

the things that have been said in the staffroom, you have said the same thing

about him yourself, Professor, and you said in the last book that you don't

like to speak ill of your colleagues, I never took you as a liar."

"That is quite enough, Mr Black," scolded Minerva sternly, to hide her

slight embarrassment at being found out and called out by one of her

students.

Slughorn took another deep draught from his mug, his eyes moving

carefully around the cabin now, looking, Harry knew, for more

treasures that he might be able to convert into a plentiful supply of

oak-matured mead, crystallized pineapple, and velvet smoking jackets.

He refilled Hagrid's mug and his own, and questioned him about the

creatures that lived in the forest these days and how Hagrid was able to

look after them all. Hagrid, becoming expansive under the influence of

the drink and Slughorn's flattering interest, stopped mopping his eyes

and entered happily into a long explanation of bowtruckle husbandry.

The Felix Felicis gave Harry a little nudge at this point, and he noticed

that the supply of drink that Slughorn had brought was running out

fast. Harry had not yet managed to bring off the Refilling Charm

without saying the incantation aloud, but the idea that he might not be

able to do it tonight was laughable: Indeed, Harry grinned to himself

as, unnoticed by either Hagrid or Slughorn (now swapping tales of the

illegal trade in dragon eggs) he pointed his wand under the table at the

emptying bottles and they immediately began to refill.

"Could he still do it once the potion was removed?" wondered Lily.

Hermione nodded, "like I said, when Harry figures something out, nothing

can stop him," she said proudly, "Felix just helped him work it out, I was

impressed though, because we only learnt that charm that day in charms, so

when he was able to do it the next lesson, without help I, and Professor

Flitwick for that matter, were very impressed, he earned some good points

for Gryffindor that lesson."

After an hour or so, Hagrid and Slughorn began making extravagant

toasts: to Hogwarts, to Dumbledore, to elf-made wine, and to —

"Harry Potter!" bellowed Hagrid, slopping some of his fourteenth

bucket of wine down his chin as he drained it.

"Yes, indeed," cried Slughorn a little thickly, "Parry Otter, the Chosen

Boy Who — well — something of that sort," he mumbled, and drained

his mug too.

Not long after this, Hagrid became tearful again and pressed the whole

unicorn tail upon Slughorn, who pocketed it with cries of, "To

friendship! To generosity! To ten Galleons a hair!"

And for a while after that, Hagrid and Slughorn were sitting side by

side, arms around each other, singing a slow sad song about a dying

wizard called Odo.

"Ah, Odo the hero," said Frank, "the drunken ballad of all wizardkind, my

mother's interpretation is rather amusing I must admit."

"Aaargh, the good die young," muttered Hagrid, slumping low onto the

table, a little cross-eyed, while Slughorn continued to war-ble the

refrain. "Me dad was no age ter go… nor were yer mum' an' dad,

Harry…"

Great fat tears oozed out of the corners of Hagrid's crinkled eyes again;

he grasped Harry's arm and shook it

"Bes' wiz and witchard o' their age… I never knew… terrible thing…

terrible thing…"

Hermione's eyes widened in comprehension, obviously Harry's parents

were an important topic of conversation, unless it was some new

information about them, he wasn't all that fond of talking about it and was

rather touchy about the topic.

And Odo the hero, they bore him back home

To the place that he'd known as a lad, sang Slughorn plaintively.

They laid him to rest with his hat inside out.

And his wand snapped in two, which was sad.

"… terrible," Hagrid grunted, and his great shaggy head rolled

sideways onto his arms and he fell asleep, snoring deeply.

"Sorry," said Slughorn with a hiccup. "Can't carry a tune to save my

life."

"Hagrid wasn't talking about your singing," said Harry quietly. "He

was talking about my mum and dad dying."

Hermione smiled sadly, as did a few others in the room. The atmosphere in

the room became sombre and everyone gave their undivided attention to

Regulus and the book.

"Oh," said Slughorn, repressing a large belch. "Oh dear. Yes, that was

— was terrible indeed. Terrible… terrible…"

He looked quite at a loss for what to say, and resorted to refilling their

mugs.

"I don't — don't suppose you remember it, Harry?" he asked

awkwardly.

"No — well, I was only one when they died," said Harry, his eyes on the

flame of the candle flickering in Hagrid's heavy snores. "But I've found

out pretty much what happened since. My dad died first. Did you know

that?"

"I — I didn't," said Slughorn in a hushed voice.

"Yeah… Voldemort murdered him and then stepped over his body

toward my mum," said Harry.

Slughorn gave a great shudder, but he did not seem able to tear his

horrified gaze away from Harry's face.

"He told her to get out of the way," said Harry remorselessly. "He told

me she needn't have died. He only wanted me. She could have run."

"Oh dear," breathed Slughorn. "She could have… she needn't… That's

awful…"

"It is, isn't it?" said Harry, in a voice barely more than a whisper. "But

she didn't move. Dad was already dead, but she didn't want me to go

too. She tried to plead with Voldemort… but he just laughed…"

Everyone was looking rather sad and the atmosphere was rather mournful,

such a stark reminder of the tragedies to come could not fail to gain

everyone's undivided attention.

"That's enough!" said Slughorn suddenly, raising a shaking hand.

"Really, my dear boy, enough… I'm an old man… I don't need to

hear… I don't want to hear…"

"I forgot," lied Harry, Felix Felicis leading him on. "You liked her,

didn't you?"

"Liked her?" said Slughorn, his eyes brimming with tears once more.

"I don't imagine anyone who met her wouldn't have liked her… Very

brave… Very funny… It was the most horrible thing…"

"But you won't help her son," said Harry. "She gave me her life, but

you won't give me a memory."

Sirius raised an eyebrow, emotional blackmail, crude but definitely

effective.

Hagrid's rumbling snores filled the cabin. Harry looked steadily into

Slughorn's tear-filled eyes. The Potions master seemed unable to look

away.

"Don't say that," he whispered. "It isn't a question… If it were to help

you, of course… but no purpose can be served…"

"It can," said Harry clearly. "Dumbledore needs information. I need

information."

He knew he was safe: Felix was telling him that Slughorn would

remember nothing of this in the morning. Looking Slughorn straight in

the eye, Harry leaned forward a little.

"I am the Chosen One. I have to kill him. I need that memory."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, that was probably the only time Harry

referred to himself as the chosen one, he really was pulling out all the stops

to get the memory. In a way she admired him for it, because she knew from

experience that it would have taken a lot for him to actually say that and use

his parents and his 'title' in that way, both those topics were not things he

discussed lightly.

Slughorn turned paler than ever; his shiny forehead gleamed with

sweat.

"You are the Chosen One?"

"Of course I am," said Harry calmly.

"But then… my dear boy… you're asking a great deal… you're asking

me, in fact, to aid you in your attempt to destroy —"

"Shouldn't that be a reason to help?" asked Severus pointedly, "unless he is

acting as an accessory to the Dark Lord and wishes him to remain

powerful."

"You don't want to get rid of the wizard who killed Lily Evans?'"

"Harry, Harry, of course I do, but —"

"He's scared," concluded James.

"You're scared he'll find out you helped me?"

Slughorn said nothing; he looked terrified.

"Be brave like my mother, Professor…"

Slughorn raised a pudgy hand and pressed his shaking fingers to his

mouth; he looked for a moment like an enormously overgrown baby.

"I am not proud…" he whispered through his fingers. "I am ashamed

of what — of what that memory shows… I think I may have done great

damage that day…"

"Dang, we need to see that memory, it must be pretty important," said

Alice.

"It will probably tell us about the horcruxes and perhaps how many of the

little buggers he made," said Alice.

"You'd cancel out anything you did by giving me the memory," said

Harry. "It would be a very brave and noble thing to do."

Hagrid twitched in his sleep and snored on. Slughorn and Harry stared

at each other over the guttering candle. There was a long, long silence,

but Felix Felicis told Harry not to break it, to wait. Then, very slowly,

Slughorn put his hand in his pocket and pulled out his wand. He put

his other hand inside his cloak and took out a small, empty bottle. Still

looking into Harry's eyes, Slughorn touched the tip of his wand to his

temple and withdrew it, so that a long, silver thread of memory came

away too, clinging to the wand tip. Longer and longer the memory

stretched until it broke and swung, silvery bright, from the wand.

Slughorn lowered it into the bottle where it coiled, then spread, swirling

like gas. He corked the bottle with a trembling hand and then passed it

across the table to Harry.

"Thank you very much, Professor."

"You're a good boy," said Professor Slughorn, tears trickling down his

fat cheeks into his walrus mustache. "And you've got her eyes… Just

don't think too badly of me once you've seen it…"

And he too put his head on his arms, gave a deep sigh, and fell asleep.

"That is the end," announced Regulus.

There was silence as everyone recovered from the stark reminder of the

horrors, which the future had in store for them.

"I find how Harry used our deaths to be a bit... I don't know, weird," said

Lily, "I guess it is odd to see our future used as a bargaining chip."

"While it was an odd approach," admitted James, "I think that it worked,

which is the most important thing, not to mention that it is kind of fitting,

because the reason we die in the future is to save our son and as you

mentioned before in hope of being able to create a better future for them to

grow up in, using and manipulating that event in this instance fulfils that

criteria. I think it would hypocritical to berate our son for doing what we set

out to do."

"Very insightful, Mr Potter," praised Minerva.

"I honestly respect Harry for doing that," admitted Hermione, "the two

topics he hates to talk about is the fact that he is the chosen one, followed

by your deaths, the fact that he was able to overcome that and put it aside to

get the memory is no small feat, and I definitely respect him more for it

now."

"You didn't know?" asked Regulus.

"He only gave a brief run-down, which basically consisted of 'I got

Slughorn drunk and he gave it to me and probably won't remember it in the

morning', Harry isn't always the most elabourate person you would ever

meet," explained Hermione with a fond smile, showing that she loved him

for it.

"Do you know what the memory is about precisely?" queried Frank,

knowing what the answer would probably be.

"Of course," said Hermione, "however I won't tell you, it would be best if

you heard about if first hand in the next chapter."

"I suppose that your first not-so-subtle clue that you want me to read," said

Severus pointedly.

"Well it isn't like she wants you to transform into a raccoon, stand on two

legs and do the soft-shoe-shuffle, is it?" asked Lily cheekily, Severus rolled

his eyes.

"Just give me the accursed book Black," growled Severus, not giving

Regulus a chance to respond he snatched the book from the younger Black

and turned to the next page.

AN: Thanks for reading, please review! Cheers!

23. Chapter 23

Horcruxes

AN: I will make this quick, as I am sure this isn't the bit you came to read,

here is the next chapter (surprise surprise), as usual I have really

appreciated the feedback people have been leaving me, so thanks! As usual,

I own nothing which anyone can recognise, so no lawsuits :) Happy

reading! Cheers!

Severus stared at the title, "Seems that our general assumption about the

Dark Lord is about to finally be proved correct, the title of this chapter is

Horcruxes."

"Should be informative then," said Frank.

"We finally get to learn the contents of the mysterious memory!" said Alice.

"Why did you bother alliterating it?" wondered Remus.

"Everything is better alliterated, my wimpy wolfie," responded Alice.

Harry could feel the Felix Felicis wearing off as he creeped back into

the castle. The front door had remained unlocked for him, but on the

third floor he met Peeves and only narrowly avoided detection by

diving sideways through one of his shortcuts. By the time he got up to

the portrait of the Fat Lady and pulled off his Invisibility Cloak, he was

not surprised to find her in a most unhelpful mood.

"What sort of time do you call this?"

"I'm really sorry — I had to go out for something important —"

"Well, the password changed at midnight, so you'll just have to sleep in

the corridor, won't you?"

"Oh bother," said Lily.

"You're joking!" said Harry. "Why did it have to change at midnight?"

"That's the way it is," said the Fat Lady. "If you're angry, go and take

it up with the headmaster, he's the one who's tightened security."

"I didn't think that he was back yet," said James.

"Apparently things can change without Potters being made aware of the

fact," responded Severus before turning back to the book.

"Fantastic," said Harry bitterly, looking around at the hard floor.

"Really brilliant. Yeah, I would go and take it up with Dumbledore if

he was here, because he's the one who wanted me to —"

"He is here," said a voice behind Harry. "Professor Dumbledore

returned to the school an hour ago."

Nearly Headless Nick was gliding toward Harry, his head wobbling as

usual upon his ruff.

"That is good," said Lily, "now we can find out the memory straight away

rather than having to wait, I hope you are still awake sir, not sleeping or

anything."

"I am sure I will be up and dealing with the inevitable paperwork which

would have piled up in my absence, Ms Evans," said Albus with a smile,

"unfortunately, not matter how long you leave it there, it never ends up

doing itself."

"I had it from the Bloody Baron, who saw him arrive," said Nick. "He

appeared, according to the Baron, to be in good spirits, though a little

tired, of course."

"Where is he?" said Harry, his heart leaping.

"Oh, groaning and clanking up on the Astronomy Tower, it's a,

favourite pastime of his —"

"Not the Bloody Baron — Dumbledore!"

"Oh — in his office," said Nick. "I believe, from what the Baron said,

that he had business to attend to before turning in —"

"Yeah, he has," said Harry, excitement blazing in his chest at the

prospect of telling Dumbledore he had secured the memory. He

wheeled about and sprinted off again, ignoring the Fat Lady who was

calling after him.

"Come back! All right, I lied! I was annoyed you woke me up! The

password's still 'tapeworm'!"

"Seems we had more influence over her than we thought," said Sirius.

But Harry was already hurtling back along the corridor and within

minutes, he was saying "toffee eclairs" to Dumbledore's gargoyle,

which leapt aside, permitting Harry entrance onto the spiral staircase.

"Enter," said Dumbledore when Harry knocked. He sounded

exhausted. Harry pushed open the door. There was Dumbledore's

office, looking the same as ever, but with black, star-strewn skies

beyond the windows.

"Good gracious, Harry," said Dumbledore in surprise. "To what do I

owe this very late pleasure?"

"Sir — I've got it. I've got the memory from Slughorn."

Harry pulled out the tiny glass bottle and showed it to Dumbledore.

For a moment or two, the headmaster looked stunned. Then his face

split in a wide smile.

"Harry, this is spectacular news! Very well done indeed! I knew you

could do it!"

All thought of the lateness of the hour apparently forgotten, he hurried

around his desk, took the bottle with Slughorn's memory in his

uninjured hand, and strode over to the cabinet where he kept the

Pensieve.

"And now," said Dumbledore, placing the stone basin upon the desk

and emptying the contents of the bottle into it. "Now, at last, we shall

see. Harry, quickly…"

"You seem excited, Professor," observed Frank.

"Indeed, I like being able to solve a problem, and this memory will no

doubt be the missing link that we are looking for," said Albus.

Harry bowed obediently over the Pensieve and felt his feet leave the

office floor… Once again he fell through darkness and landed in

Horace Slughorn's office many years before. There was the much

younger Slughorn, with his thick, shiny, straw-coloured hair and his

gingery-blond mustache, sitting again in the comfortable winged

armchair in his office, his feet resting upon a velvet pouffe, a small

glass of wine in one hand, the other rummaging in a box of crystallized

pineapple. And there were the half dozen teenage boys sitting around

Slughorn with Tom Riddle in the midst of them, Marvolo's gold-and-

black ring gleaming on his finger. Dumbledore landed beside Harry

just as Riddle asked, "Sir is it true that Professor Merrythought is

retiring?"

"Tom, Tom, if I knew I couldn't tell you," said Slughorn, wagging his

finger reprovingly at Riddle, though winking at the same time. "I must

say, I'd like to know where you get your information, boy, more

knowledgeable than half the staff, you are."

"How would he have found that out?" wondered Minerva, "we generally try

to keep staffing issues in the staff room."

"He probably asked her," said Sirius, "it seems none of the teachers back

then could refuse him anything, so he probably asked a question about it

and she told him."

"From what Harry told me as well, Riddle was also on fairly good terms

with some of the ghosts, so they would probably have found out and he

could probably charm that information out of one fairly easily, especially

considering some of the other information he got from some of them," said

Hermione dryly.

"What information, Hermione?" asked Minerva pointedly.

Hermione blushed, whoops, she wasn't meant to let that piece of

information about the diadem slip, "umm, probably can't tell you at this

point, so you'll have to wait and see."

"Spoilsport," teased Regulus.

Hermione smiled, "I had to wait seven years for some of this information,

you can deal with waiting a couple more days, so don't complain."

Riddle smiled; the other boys laughed and cast him admiring looks.

"What with your uncanny ability to know things you shouldn't, and

your careful flattery of the people who matter — thank you for the

pineapple, by the way, you're quite right, it is my favourite —" Several

of the boys tittered again. "— I confidently expect you to rise to

Minister of Magic within twenty years. Fifteen, if you keep sending me

pineapple, I have excellent contacts at the Ministry."

"I don't think Riddle making minister is such a good thing to be honest,"

said Remus dryly.

Tom Riddle merely smiled as the others laughed again. Harry noticed

that he was by no means the eldest of the group of boys, but that they

all seemed to look to him as their leader.

"That can be odd," said Remus, "most people tend to associate age with

leadership."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, " not always, look at Harry, he was by far one

of the youngest in the DA, yet he was the leader, some people just tend to

exude leadership."

"I really don't like it when you compare my son to an evil dark bastard,"

said James.

"I don't know that politics would suit me, sir," he said when the

laughter had died away. "I don't have the right kind of background,

for one thing."

A couple of the boys around him smirked at each other. Harry was sure

they were enjoying a private joke, undoubtedly about what they knew,

or suspected, regarding their gang leader's famous ancestor.

"Nonsense," said Slughorn briskly, "couldn't be plainer you come from

decent Wizarding stock, abilities like yours. No, you'll go far, Tom, I've

never been wrong about a student yet."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at the blatant pure-blood implications of that

statement.

The small golden clock standing upon Slughorn's desk chimed eleven

o'clock behind him and he looked around.

"Good gracious, is it that time already? You'd better get going boys, or

we'll all be in trouble. Lestrange, I want your essay by in morrow or it's

detention. Same goes for you, Avery."

One by one, the boys filed out of the room. Slughorn heaved himself out

of his armchair and carried his empty glass over to his desk. A

movement behind him made him look around; Riddle was still standing

there.

"Look sharp, Tom, you don't want to be caught out of bed out of hours,

and you a prefect…"

"Sir, I wanted to ask you something."

"Ask away, then, m'boy, ask away…"

"Sir, I wondered what you know about… about Horcruxes?'

Slughorn stared at him, his thick ringers absentmindedly clawing the

stem of his wine glass.

"Project for Defense Against the Dark Arts, is it?"

"Slightly different to the original memory," observed Frank.

But Harry could tell that Slughorn knew perfectly well that this was

not schoolwork.

"Not exactly, sir," said Riddle. "I came across the term while reading

and I didn't fully understand it."

"No… well… you'd be hard-pushed to find a book at Hogwarts that'll

give you details on Horcruxes, Tom, that's very Dark stuff, very Dark

indeed," said Slughorn.

"But you obviously know all about them, sir? I mean, a wizard like you

— sorry, I mean, if you can't tell me, obviously —I just knew if anyone

could tell me, you could—so I just thought I'd–"

It was very well done, thought Harry, the hesitancy, the casual tone, the

careful flattery, none of it overdone. He, Harry, had had too much

experience of trying to wheedle information out of reluctant people not

to recognize a master at work. He could tell that Riddle wanted the

information very, very much; perhaps had been working toward this

moment for weeks.

"Well," said Slughorn, not looking at Riddle, but fiddling with the

ribbon on top of his box of crystallized pineapple, "well, it can't hurt to

give you an overview, of course. Just so that you understand the term.

A Horcrux is the word used for an object in which a person has

concealed part of their soul."

His voice was carefully controlled, but Harry could sense his

excitement.

"Is that comment about Slughorn?" asked Lily, "Why would he be excited

by it."

Severus glanced down, "I doubt it refers to anyone else, I can't tell you why,

murder and immortality aren't generally topics which engender excitement

in most."

"Perhaps it was the chance to stroke his ego and prove that he is as all-

knowing as Riddle says he is?" suggested Frank, "but I don't know, as

you've said, it isn't the most pleasant of topics."

"Understatement, if I've ever heard one," said Sirius.

"Well, you split your soul, you see," said Slughorn, "and hide part of it

in an object outside the body. Then, even if one's body is attacked or

destroyed, one cannot die, for part of the soul remains earthbound and

undamaged. But of course, existence in such a form…"

Slughorn's face crumpled and Harry found himself remembering

words he had heard nearly two years before: "I was ripped from my

body, I was less than spirit, less than the meanest ghost… but still, I

was alive."

"… few would want it, Tom, very few. Death would be preferable."

"Oh yes," said Sirius with a heavy dose of sarcasm, "making horcruxes is

bad, why you ask? Because when your body is destroyed you get a bit

uncomfortable, it isn't as though you have to actually murder someone or

anything!"

But Riddle's hunger was now apparent; his expression was greedy, he

could no longer hide his longing.

"How do you split your soul?"

"Well," said Slughorn uncomfortably, "you must understand that the

soul is supposed to remain intact and whole. Splitting it is an act of

violation, it is against nature."

"Okay," said Regulus, "surely this has to be the first sign that something is

wrong with the conversation."

"You mean apart from the fact that such a conversation had taken place,

they aren't discussing the weather Black!" responded James.

"But how do you do it?"

"By an act of evil — the supreme act of evil. By committing murder.

Killing rips the soul apart. The wizard intent upon creating a Horcrux

would use the damage to his advantage: He would encase the torn

portion —"

"Encase? But how —?"

"There is a spell, do not ask me, I don't know!" said Slughorn shaking

his head like an old elephant bothered by mosquitoes. "Do I look as

though I have tried it — do I look like a killer?"

"No, sir, of course not," said Riddle quickly. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean

to offend…"

"Not at all, not at all, not offended," said Slughorn gruffly, "It is

natural to feel some curiosity about these things… Wizards of a certain

calibre have always been drawn to that aspect of magic…"

"Do you think he was perhaps one of them once?" wondered Lily.

Severus made an indescript noise at that remark as he skimmed the next

line, Hermione could tell the moment he found out the suspected number of

horcruxes, he looked like he had just been clobbered with Kreacher's fry

pan, his eyes widened and he mouthed the 'seven' with a look of shock on

his face.

"What's up, Severus?" asked Regulus also noticing the rather sudden

change which came over his housemate, "you don't look so good."

"There is a reason for that," said Severus quietly, "lets just say that some of

your assumptions are about to be proven dramatically wrong."

"Yes, sir," said Riddle. "What I don't understand, though — just out of

curiosity — I mean, would one Horcrux be much use? Can you only

split your soul once? Wouldn't it be better, make you stronger, to have

your soul in more pieces,

"But isn't that what we already knew," said James, "I mean it has been

deduced that he has more than one."

"He isn't referring to that theory," said Hermione.

I mean, for instance, isn't seven the most powerfully magical number,

wouldn't seven —?"

"Seven!" said Alice in a disbelieving voice, which portrayed her shock at

the number quite accurately, "he made seven of the bloody things!"

"That is what it says," confirmed Severus quietly.

"But... seven!" said Alice, "that is insane. That means that they have to

destroy seven of those things."

Alice's disbelief was shared throughout the room, no one (except Hermione

of course) expected such a huge number, the only difference between Alice

and the rest of the room was that Alice was making an attempt to vocalise

her shock and was still mouthing the word 'seven' in disbelief over and over

again. Even Albus Dumbledore was shocked to the very tips of his fluffy,

rainbow socks. The news that Tom had horcruxes, while not known

previously to him before these books, did not shock him, as he expected

Tom to have attempted various means to become immortal, his name itself

was evidence enough of that (Voldemort, when broken down into three

words vol, de and mort, could be loosely translated into flee or steal from

death); however the knowledge that he made potentially made six horcruxes

to form a seven-part soul was beyond even his rather 'high' expectations of

Tom Riddle. To have done such a thing was mind-boggling.

"Seems you maths was wrong," commented James after a moment of

silence, once Alice's shock and tendency to repeat the word 'seven' wore

off.

Regulus just shook his head, "That is insane, I mean serious beyond

comprehension, the fact he made seven of them, one is bad enough, but

seven, that is... I don't think there are even words."

"I know I am no expert on the dark arts, but if he can make one, or as we

suspected previous three, what would stop him from making seven?" asked

Frank.

"The information about it is in a book in our ancestral library," explained

Sirius, "and I've read about it, trust me the process is horrific, I had to throw

up after I finished reading it, trust me that was the last time I had a family

dark arts lesson after a meal, and it is meant to make you horribly

unstable..."

"Dark Lord's got that one covered," murmured Regulus, "trust me on this,

the Dark Lord is many things, however mentally stable is not one of them,

this actually explains why, to an extent, I doubt he would actually make

one, let alone seven if he was stable to begin with, but I digress. What my

brother is saying is that if you read it, which I honestly think could be

worthwhile especially if we decide to destroy them ourselves, you will

understand just how utterly ghastly it is, one is bad enough, two has been

done before, I think, so three as horrible as it is possible, but the idea of

making seven is completely inconceivable, I would not even think it would

be possible..."

"Discounting the harsh reality that you would have to murder seven

people," added Sirius darkly.

"I can't believe he made seven," said Alice once again, which indicated to

Severus that the conversation probably wouldn't progress much further, so

he recommenced reading.

"Merlin's beard, Tom!" yelped Slughorn. "Seven! Isn't it bad enough

to think of killing one person? And in any case… bad enough to divide

the soul… but to rip it into seven pieces…"

Slughorn looked deeply troubled now: He was gazing at Riddle as

though he had never seen him plainly before, and Harry could tell that

he was regretting entering into the conversation at all.

"Of course," he muttered, "this is all hypothetical, what we're

discussing, isn't it? All academic…"

"Yes, sir, of course," said Riddle quickly.

"But all the same, Tom… keep it quiet, what I've told — that's to say,

what we've discussed. People wouldn't like to think we've been chatting

about Horcruxes. It's a banned subject at Hogwarts, you know…

Dumbledore's particularly fierce about it…"

"I wonder why," said Remus rather sarcastically.

"I won't say a word, sir," said Riddle, and he left, but not before Harry

had glimpsed his face, which was full of that same wild happiness it had

worn when he had first found out that he was a wizard, the sort of

happiness that did not enhance his handsome features, but made them,

somehow, less human…

"Thank you, Harry," said Dumbledore quietly. "Let us go…"

When Harry landed back on the office floor Dumbledore was; already

sitting down behind his desk. Harry sat too and waited for Dumbledore

to speak.

"I have been hoping for this piece of evidence for a very long time,"

said Dumbledore at last. "It confirms the theory on which I have been

working, it tells me that I am right, and also how very far there is still

to go…"

"So you suspected that he made seven?" asked Lily.

"I obvious do in the future, however my own theory until that memory was

more in line with Tom possessing only three horcruxes," said Albus.

Harry suddenly noticed that every single one of the old headmasters

and headmistresses in the portraits around the walls was awake and

listening in on their conversation. A corpulent, red nosed wizard had

actually taken out an ear trumpet.

"Subtle"

"Well, Harry," said Dumbledore, "I am sure you understood the

significance of what we just heard. At the same age as you are now, give

or take a few months, Tom Riddle was doing all he could to find out

how to make himself immortal."

"You think he succeeded then, sir?" asked Harry. "He made a

Horcrux? And that's why he didn't die when he attacked me? He had a

Horcrux hidden somewhere? A bit of his soul was safe?"

"That and then some," said James darkly.

"A bit… or more," said Dumbledore. "You heard Voldemort, what he

particularly wanted from Horace was an opinion on what would

happen to the wizard who created more than one Horcrux, what would

happen to the wizard so determined to evade death that he would be

prepared to murder many times, rip his soul repeatedly, so as to store it

in many, separately concealed Horcruxes. No book would have given

him that information. As far as I know — as far, I am sure, as

Voldemort knew — no wizard had ever done more than tear his soul in

two."

"As in murder more than one person, thus splitting their soul or divide their

soul into more than two containers?" queried Remus.

"The latter," decided Albus, "because there are people who have murdered

more than one, many of them in fact, which shows that the reference is to

the separation of the severed soul."

Dumbledore paused for a moment, marshaling his thought, and then

said, "Four years ago, I received what I considered certain proof that

Voldemort had split his soul."

"Where?" asked Harry. "How?"

"You handed it to me, Harry," said Dumbledore.

"The diary, Riddles diary, the one giving instructions on how to reopen

the Chamber of Secrets."

"I don't understand, sir," said Harry.

"Well, although I did not see the Riddle who came out of the diary,

what you described to me was a phenomenon I had never witnessed. A

mere memory starting to act and think for itself? A mere memory,

sapping the life out of the girl into whose hands it had fallen? No,

something much more sinister had lived inside that book… a fragment

of soul, I was almost sure of it. The diary had been a Horcrux. But this

raised as many questions as it answered. What intrigued and alarmed

me most was that that diary had been intended as a weapon as much as

a safeguard."

"I still don't understand," said Harry.

"Well, it worked as a Horcrux is supposed to work — in other words,

the fragment of soul concealed inside it was kept safe and had

undoubtedly played its part in preventing the death of its owner. But

there could be no doubt that Riddle really wanted that diary read,

wanted the piece of his soul to inhabit or possess somebody else, so that

Slytherin's monster would be unleashed again."

"Well, he didn't want his hard work to be wasted," said Harry. "He

wanted people to know he was Slytherin's heir, because he couldn't

take credit at the time."

"Quite correct," said Dumbledore, nodding. "But don't you see, Harry,

that if he intended the diary to be passed to, or planted on, some future

Hogwarts student, he was being remarkably blasé about that precious

fragment of his soul concealed within it. The point of a Horcrux is, as

Professor Slughorn explained, to keep part of the self hidden and safe,

not to fling it into somebody else's path and run the risk that they

might destroy it — as indeed happened: That particular fragment of

soul is no more; you saw to that.

"That is one down," said Sirius, "only six more to go."

"I would say it would be less than that," said Albus enigmatically.

"How exactly did Harry destroy it, again?" asked Lily.

"He stabbed it with a basilisk fang," said Hermione lightly, which

completely opposed the gravity of the conversation, "although that was

after the basilisk had bitten him of course, so they put up a bit of a fight."

"He was bitten by a basilisk!" shrieked Lily, "you didn't tell us that!"

"Whoops?" said Hermione dryly, "I thought I did."

"You only said, what was it...," said Frank trying to think back, "that is

right, that he battled the basilisk and won, nothing about being bitten by it."

"Don't worry, I only found out for sure during the hunt, so you found out

quicker than I did," said Hermione, "I was rather shocked when he told

me."

"What hunt were you on?" asked Remus looking puzzled.

"What?" said Hermione looking alarmed, which was reflected by the fact

her voice jumped several octaves, "what hunt are you talking about, I didn't

mention the hunt..."

"Yes you did," said Regulus pointedly, staring at Hermione, "you said and I

quote 'I only found out for sure during the hunt'."

"Umm," said Hermione looking alarmed, it seems that she was getting worn

down by all the memories and the stress of reading about what was coming

up that she was getting careless in how she spoke, going back on the

defensive she said "I didn't realise you were listening to me!"

"You just told me that my son get bitten by a basilisk," said Lily slightly, or

perhaps more than slightly, hysterical, "and you expect us not to be paying

attention!"

Hermione looked abashed after that particular truth, before conceding

slightly "The hunt refers to an excursion that Harry, Ron and I had in the

time frame of the next book," said Hermione vaguely.

"Well that was informative," said Severus sarcastically, "for a know-it-all

you aren't exactly the most elucidating person around."

"I think I elucidated rather clearly the fact that you will have to wait and

see!" retorted Hermione.

"So back on topic," said James pointedly, "my son was bitten by a basilisk."

"How on earth is he still alive," said Remus in amazement, "that kid takes

after James to the extreme, while Prongs is a rule-breaker, I don't think he

has defied the laws of magic yet."

"Phoenix tears," answered Hermione, "or at least he knew with certainty

that phoenix tears were the only antidote. I did tell you that Fawkes was

down there, so I assume he leant a hand, or rather a couple of tears. I

honestly don't know much more than you do, Harry is rather tight-lipped

about his adventures, I only found out when he told me that something, and

I quote 'hurt more than the time I was bitten by that basilisk'."

Silence descended on the room for a moment after that and Severus decided

it was time to read once again.

"The careless way in which Voldemort regarded this Horcrux seemed

most ominous to me. It suggested that he must have made — or had

been planning to make — more Horcruxes, so that the loss of his first

would not be so detrimental. I did not wish to believe it, but nothing

else seemed to make sense. Then you told me, two years later, that on

the night that Voldemort returned to his body, he made a most

illuminating and alarming statement to his Death Eaters. 'I who have

gone further than anybody along the path that leads to immortality.'

That was what you told me he said. 'Further than anybody!' And I

thought I knew what that meant, though the Death Eaters did not. He

was referring to his Horcruxes, Horcruxes in the plural, Harry, which I

don't believe any other wizard has ever had. Yet it fitted: Lord

Voldomort has seemed to grow less human with the passing years, and

the transformation he had undergone seemed to me to be only

explainable if his soul was mutilated beyond the realms of what we

might call 'usual evil'…"

Regulus snorted, that was the understatement of the century, considering he

was branded with the bastard's mark, he knew just how evil he really could

be, and it was not pretty to say the least.

"So he's made himself impossible to kill by murdering other people?"

said Harry. "Why couldn't he make a Philosopher's Stone, or steal one,

if he was so interested in immortality?"

"He probably got off on the sadistic nature of this particular method," said

Sirius crudely.

"Sirius!" scolded Lily.

"Well, we know that he tried to do just that, five years ago," said

Dumbledore. "But there are several reasons why, I think, a

Philosopher's Stone would appeal less than Horcruxes to Lord

Voldemort.

"While the Elixir of Life does indeed extend life, it must be drunk

regularly, for all eternity, if the drinker is to maintain the immortality.

Therefore, Voldemort would be entirely dependant on the Elixir, and if

it ran out, or was contaminated, or if the Stone was stolen, he would die

just like any other man. Voldemort likes to operate alone, remember. I

believe that he would have found the thought of being dependent, even

on the Elixir, intolerable. Of course he was prepared to drink it if it

would take him out of the horrible part-life to which he was

condemned after attacking you, but only to regain a body. Thereafter, I

am convinced, he intended to continue to rely on his Horcruxes. He

would need nothing more, if only he could regain a human form. He

was already immortal, you see… or as close to immortal as any man

can be.

"So pretty much what I said," said Sirius.

"But now, Harry, armed with this information, the crucial memory you

have succeeded in procuring for us, we are closer to the secret of

finishing Lord Voldemort than anyone has ever been before. You heard

him, Harry: 'Wouldn't it be better, make you stronger, to have your

soul in more pieces… isn't seven the most powerfully magical

number…' Isn't seven the most powerfully magical number. Yes, I

think the idea of a seven-part soul would greatly appeal to Lord

Voldemort."

"Interesting," said Alice, "does that mean that he has seven horcruxes, or six

with the seventh being in his body?"

"Intriguing question," commented Minerva.

"He made seven Horcruxes?" said Harry, horror-struck,

while several of the portraits on the walls made similar noises of shock

mid outrage. "But they could be anywhere in the world — hidden —

buried or invisible —"

"I am glad to see you appreciate the magnitude of the problem," said

Dumbledore calmly. "But firstly, no, Harry, not seven Horcruxes: six.

'Liar' thought Hermione to herself, Dumbledore knew perfectly well that

Harry was the seventh horcrux.

The seventh part of his soul, however maimed, resides inside his

regenerated body. That was the part of him that lived a spectral

existence for so many years during his exile; without that, he has no self

at all. That seventh piece of soul will be the last that anybody wishing to

kill Voldemort must attack — the piece that lives in his body."

"But the six Horcruxes, then," said Harry, a little desperately, "how are

we supposed to find them?"

"You are forgetting… you have already destroyed one of them. And I

have destroyed another."

"You have?" said Harry eagerly.

"Yes indeed," said Dumbledore, and he raised his blackened, burned-

looking hand. "The ring, Harry. Marvolo's ring. And a terrible curse

there was upon it too. Had it not been — forgive me the lack of seemly

modesty — for my own prodigious skill, and for Professor Snape's

timely action when I returned to Hogwarts, desperately injured, I

might not have lived to tell the tale. However, a withered hand does not

seem an unreasonable exchange for a seventh of Voldemort's soul. The

ring is no longer a Horcrux."

"So that means that there are four left," said Alice, "oh well that is better

than the six we were thinking that still remained, but it still seems like it is

going to be an utter pain in the derriere to take care of, not mention

probably rather dangerous, especially if the headmaster was almost killed

destroying one and Harry was bitten by a basilisk destroying the other."

"But how did you find it?"

"Well, as you now know, for many years I have made it my business to

discover as much as I can about Voldemort's past life. I have traveled

widely, visiting those places he once knew. I stumbled across the ring

hidden in the ruin of the Gaunt's house. It seems that once Voldemort

had succeeded in sealing a piece of his soul inside it, he did not want to

wear it anymore. He hid it, protected by many powerful enchantments,

in the shack where his ancestors had once lived (Morfin having been

carted off to Azkaban, of course), never guessing that I might one day

take the trouble to visit the ruin, or that I might be keeping an eye open

for traces of magical concealment. However, we should not

congratulate ourselves too heartily. You destroyed the diary and I the

ring, but if we are right in our theory of a seven-part soul, four

Horcruxes remain."

"And they could be anything?" said Harry. "They could be oh, in tin

cans or, I dunno, empty potion bottles…"

"The Dark Lord suffers from the full selection of the seven deadly sins, one

of which is vanity," said Regulus, "I doubt he would use things that are so

inconspicuous."

"Besides," said Severus, "haven't we just been reading about the various

trinkets that have mysteriously disappeared around the Dark Lord, I

somehow doubt that was shown just for kicks and giggles."

"Be kind Sev," said Lily, "we had forewarning about the existence of

Horcruxes, so we could see the importance of the trinkets, Harry didn't and

considering the rather shocking news he just received, I think he is entitled

not to remember everything he ever saw."

"You are thinking of Portkeys, Harry, which must be ordinary objects,

easy to overlook. But would Lord Voldemort use tin cans or old potion

bottles to guard his own precious soul? You are forgetting what I have

showed you. Lord Voldemort liked to collect trophies, and he preferred

objects with a powerful magical history. His pride, his belief in his own

superiority, his determination to carve for himself a startling place in

magical history; these things, suggest to me that Voldemort would have

chosen his Horcruxes with some care, favouring objects worthy of the

honour."

"The diary wasn't that special."

"The diary, as you have said yourself, was proof that he was the Heir of

Slytherin. I am sure that Voldemort considered it of stupendous

importance."

"So, the other Horcruxes?" said Harry. "Do you think you know what

they are, sir?"

"I can only guess," said Dumbledore. "For the reasons I have already

given, I believe that Lord Voldemort would prefer objects that, in

themselves, have a certain grandeur. I have therefore trawled back

through Voldemort's past to see if I can find evidence that such

artifacts have disappeared around him."

"The locket!" said Harry loudly, "Hufflepuff's cup!"

"Yes," said Dumbledore, smiling, "I would be prepared to bet —

perhaps not my other hand — but a couple of fingers, that they became

Horcruxes three and four.

"So what are five and six then?" asked James.

The remaining two, assuming again that he created a total of six, are

more of a problem, but I will hazard a guess that, having secured

objects from Hufflepuff and Slytherin, he set out to track down objects

owned by Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. Four objects from the four

founders would, I am sure, have exerted a powerful pull over

Voldemort's imagination. I cannot answer for whether he ever

managed to find anything of Ravenclaw's. I am confident, however,

that the only known relic of Gryffindor remains safe."

Dumbledore pointed his blackened fingers to the wall behind him,

where a ruby-encrusted sword reposed within a glass case.

"What about the sorting hat?" questioned Lily.

"While that is indeed a relic of Gryffindor, and Tom would like nothing

more than to use it, he would not have access to it to make it into a horcrux,

besides I probably already checked myself to be sure," said Albus.

"Do you think that's why he really wanted to come back to Hogwarts,

sir?" said Harry. "To try and find something from one of the other

founders?"

"My thoughts precisely," said Dumbledore. "But unfortunately, that

does not advance us much further, for he was turned away, or so I

believe, without the chance to search the school. I am forced to

conclude that he never fulfilled his ambition of collecting four

founders' objects. He definitely had two — he may have found three —

that is the best we can do for now."

"Even if he got something of Ravenclaw's or of Gryffindor's, that leaves

a sixth Horcrux," said Harry, counting on his fingers. "Unless he's got

both?"

"I don't think so," said Dumbledore. "I think I know what the sixth

Horcrux is. I wonder what you will say when I confess that I have been

curious for a while about the behaviour of the snake, Nagini?"

"The snake?" said Harry, startled. "You can use animals as

Horcruxes?"

"Apparently yes," said James.

"Well, it is inadvisable to do so," said Dumbledore, "because to confide

a part of your soul to something that can think and move for itself is

obviously a very risky business. However, if my calculations are

correct, Voldemort was still at least one Horcrux short of his goal of six

when he entered your parents' house with the intention of killing you.

He seems to have reserved the process of making Horcruxes for

particularly significant deaths. You would certainly have been that. He

believed that in killing you, he was destroying the danger the prophecy

had outlined. He believed he was making himself invincible. I am sure

that he was intending to make his final Horcrux with your death. As we

know, he failed.

"So that means if we take care of the horcruxes now there will only be five

at the most," observed Remus, making a note on the parchment he was

writing the important facts on.

After an interval of some years, however, he used Nagini to kill an old

Muggle man, and it might then have occurred to him to turn her into

his last Horcrux. She underlines the Slytherin connection, which

enhances Lord Voldemorts mystique; I think he is perhaps as fond of

her as he can be of anything; he certainly likes to keep her close, and he

seems to have an unusual amount of control over her, even for a

Parselmouth."

"So," said Harry, "the diary's gone, the ring's gone. The cup, the

locket, and the snake are still intact, and you think there might be a

Horcrux that was once Ravenclaw's or Gryffindor's?"

"An admirably succinct and accurate summary, yes," said Dumbledore,

bowing his head.

"So… are you still looking for them, sir? Is that where you've been

going when you've been leaving the school?"

"Correct," said Dumbledore. "I have been looking for a very long time.

I think… perhaps… I may be close to finding another one. There are

hopeful signs."

"And if you do," said Harry quickly, "can I come with you and help get

rid of it?"

"Good question," said Sirius approvingly.

"Surely you don't mean he should go, Sirius!" said Lily, "he could get hurt

or killed."

"But Harry, for obvious reasons is going to play an active part in the

destruction of Tom Riddle, therefore he needs to know first-hand what some

of the obstacles which he could face would be, what to look for etc, he

won't be able to learn that from a classroom," said Sirius adamantly.

"But surely the headmaster can do it, so why does Harry need to go too?"

replied Lily.

"Alas, Ms Evans, as much as I have often wished it otherwise, I am not

infalliable and considering my injury I daresay help would be most

appreciated, besides if something were ever to happen to me Harry would

need to know more about how to destroy them and the barriers which can

be used to prevent that from occurring."

Dumbledore looked at Harry very intently for a moment before saying,

"Yes, I think so."

"I can?" said Harry, thoroughly taken aback.

"He seems surprised that he is actually going to be included with the

permission of an authority figure," observed Frank.

"Well the last book, showed how big of an error not doing that was," said

Remus looking at Sirius.

"Oh yes," said Dumbledore, smiling slightly. "I think you have earned

that right."

Harry felt his heart lift. It was very good not to hear words of caution

and protection for once. The headmasters and head-mistresses around

the walls seemed less impressed by Dumbledore's decision; Harry saw a

few of them shaking their heads and Phineas Nigellus actually snorted.

"A family trait apparently," said Remus dryly, to which both Sirius and

Regulus snorted, thus accentuating his point.

"Does Voldemort know when a Horcrux is destroyed, sir? Can he feel

it?" Harry asked, ignoring the portraits.

"A very interesting question, Harry. I believe not. I believe that

Voldemort is now so immersed in evil, and these crucial parts of

himself have been detached for so long, he does not feel as we do.

Perhaps, at the point of death, he might be aware of his loss… but he

was not aware, for instance, that the diary had been destroyed until he

forced the truth out of Lucius Malfoy. When Voldemort discovered that

the diary had been mutilated and robbed of all its powers, I am told

that his anger was terrible to behold."

"But I thought he meant Lucius Malfoy to smuggle it into Hogwarts?"

"Yes, he did, years ago, when he was sure he would be able to create

more Horcruxes, but still Lucius was supposed to wait for Voldemorts

say-so, and he never received it, for Voldemort vanished shortly after

giving him the diary. No doubt he thought that Lucius would not dare

do anything with the Horcrux other than guard it carefully, but he was

counting too much upon Lucius's fear of a master who had been gone

for years and whom Lucius believed dead. Of course, Lucius did not

know what the diary really was. I understand that Voldemort had told

him the diary would cause the Chamber of Secrets to reopen because it

was cleverly enchanted. Had Lucius known he held a portion of his

masters soul in his hands, he would undoubtedly have treated it with

more reverence —

"He would have known for sure that he was going to come back, so he

wouldn't have done anything that would potentially make him angry,"

observed Sirius.

but instead he went ahead and carried out the old plan for his own

ends. By planting the diary upon Arthur Weasleys daughter, he hoped

to discredit Arthur and get rid of a highly incriminating magical object

in one stroke. Ah, poor Lucius… what with Voldemorts fury about the

fact that he threw away the Horcrux for his own gain, and the fiasco at

the Ministry last year, I would not be surprised if he is not secretly glad

to be safe in Azkaban at the moment."

Having seen the Dark Lord angry before, after all said sadistic bastard was

rather fond of public punishment which would then put the fear of a

thousand hungry hornets into the rest of his followers, Regulus would not

be surprised if that was the case.

Harry sat in thought for a moment, then asked, "So if all of his

Horcruxes are destroyed, Voldemort could be killed?"

"Yes, I think so," said Dumbledore. "Without his Horcruxes,

Voldemort will be a mortal man with a maimed and diminished soul.

Never forget, though, that while his soul may be damaged beyond

repair, his brain and his magical powers remain intact. It will take

uncommon skill and power to kill a wizard like Voldemort even

without his Horcruxes."

"And there's the silver lining we were all looking out for," said Alice

sarcastically.

"If that isn't the case, why hasn't Harry been trained in combat so he would

be able to pose some sort of threat to Riddle?" asked Sirius.

"But I haven't got uncommon skill and power," said Harry, before he

could stop himself.

"Yes, you have," said Dumbledore firmly. "You have a power that

Voldemort has never had. You can —"

"I know!" said Harry impatiently. "I can love!" It was only with

difficulty that he stopped himself adding, "Big deal!"

Minerva McGonagall privately disagreed, Harry being able to love was a

big deal, after all they just read about the path a similar boy had taken who

was not able to do that, it was not a pretty sight.

"Yes, Harry, you can love," said Dumbledore, who looked as though he

knew perfectly well what Harry had just refrained from saying.

"Which, given everything that has happened to you, is a great and

remarkable thing. You are still too young to understand how unusual

you are, Harry."

"So, when the prophecy says that I'll have 'power the Dark Lord knows

not,' it just means — love?" asked Harry, feeling a little let down.

"Does that mean if he screws a couple of women Voldie will keel over and

die?" asked James, trying to lighten the room, all he got in return were

several glares from the female member of the room and the urge to duck as

a flying duck soared out of Hermione's wand towards his head. Thankfully

that did have the desired effect in the end as the tone was slightly lighter.

"Yes — just love," said Dumbledore. "But Harry, never forget that

what the prophecy says is only significant because Voldemort made it

so. I told you this at the end of last year. Voldemort singled you out as

the person who would be most dangerous to him — and in doing so, he

made you the person who would be most dangerous to him!"

"But it comes to the same —"

"No, it doesn't!" said Dumbledore, sounding impatient now. Pointing at

Harry with his black, withered hand, he said, "You are setting too

much store by the prophecy!"

"Why are you so impatient, Sir," asked Lily.

"Because Harry is not thinking about this the way he should, he needs to

understand what the prophecy really means to him, if he doesn't understand

it properly it could have resounding negative effects," said Albus.

Hermione nodded slightly, "I think that Harry was subconsciously letting

himself be ruled by the prophecy, as he thought he had a death sentence on

him and thus wanted to live like a normal person for awhile, which I think

is part of the reason why he became so obsessed with Ginny and focused so

much on her, because that is the normal thing for a teenager to do- have

angst issues, a girlfriend etc. Despite his desire to be normal I don't think

Harry ever truly believed that he could win, he interpreted it as a death

sentence and let that rule his life, look at his desire to become an auror of

instance, he wanted to do it because it would help him fight Riddle, he

made the prophecy the centre of his life and never thought about what he

wanted that wasn't centred around Riddle."

"But," spluttered Harry, "but you said the prophecy means —"

"If Voldemort had never heard of the prophecy, would it have been

fulfilled? Would it have meant anything? Of course not! Do you think

every prophecy in the Hall of Prophecy has been fulfilled?"

"So you think that it is self-fulfilling?" said Frank.

"But didn't we kind of establish that already in the last book when we

analysed it," pointed out Alice.

"But," said Harry, bewildered, "but last year, you said one of us would

have to kill the other —"

"Harry, Harry, only because Voldemort made a grave error, and acted

on Professor Trelawney's words! If Voldemort had never murdered

your father, would he have imparted in you a furious desire for

revenge? Of course not! If he had not forced your mother to die for

you, would he have given you a magical protection he could not

penetrate? Of course not, Harry! Don't you see? Voldemort himself

created his worst enemy, just as tyrants everywhere do! Have you any

idea how much tyrants fear the people they oppress? All of them realize

that, one day, amongst their many victims, there is sure to be one who

rises against them and strikes back! Voldemort is no different! Always

he was on the lookout for the one who would challenge him. He heard

the prophecy and he leapt into action, with the result that he not only

handpicked the man most likely to finish him, he handed him uniquely

deadly weapons!"

"Don't you love irony sometimes," said Sirius.

"I know," said Regulus in response, "it is rather nice to see karma come

back and bite him in the arse."

"But —"

"It is essential that you understand this!" said Dumbledore, standing

up and striding about the room, his glittering robes swooshing in his

wake; Harry had never seen him so agitated. "By attempting to kill

you, Voldemort himself singled out the remarkable person who sits

here in front of me, and gave him the tools for the job! It is Voldemort's

fault that you were able to see into his thoughts, his ambitions, that you

even understand the snakelike language in which he gives orders, and

yet, Harry, despite your privileged insight into Voldemort's world

(which, incidentally, is a gift any Death Eater would kill to have), you

have never been seduced by the Dark Arts, never, even for a second,

shown the slightest desire to become one of Voldemort's followers!"

"Of course I haven't!" said Harry indignantly. "He killed my mum and

dad!"

Lily and James couldn't help but smile proudly at that point, it was touching

to see their son care that much for them.

"You are protected, in short, by your ability to love!" said Dumbledore

loudly. "The only protection that can possibly work against the lure of

power like Voldemort's! In spite of all the temptation you have

endured, all the suffering, you remain pure of heart, just as pure as you

were at the age of eleven, when you stared into a mirror that reflected

your heart's desire, and it showed you only the way to thwart Lord

Voldemort, and not immortality or riches. Harry, have you any idea

how few wizards could have seen what you saw in that mirror?

Voldemort should have known then what he was dealing with, but he

did not!

"What did Harry see in that mirror?" asked Lily.

"You," said Hermione with a smile, "you and James, his family, you were

his heart's desire."

That comment proved too moving and touching for Lily to handle, as tears

began to well in her eyes.

"But he knows it now. You have flitted into Lord Voldemort's mind

without damage to yourself, but he cannot possess you without

enduring mortal agony, as he discovered in the Ministry. I do not think

he understands why, Harry, but then, he was in such a hurry to

mutilate his own soul, he never paused to understand the incomparable

power of a soul that is untarnished and whole."

"But, sir," said Harry, making valiant efforts not to sound

argumentative, "it all comes to the same thing, doesn't it? I've got to

try and kill him, or —"

"Got to?" said Dumbledore. "Of course you've got to! But not because

of the prophecy! Because you, yourself, will never rest until you've

tried! We both know it! Imagine, please, just for a moment, that you

had never heard that prophecy! How would you feel about Voldemort

now? Think!"

Harry watched Dumbledore striding up and down in front of him, and

thought. He thought of his mother, his father, and Sirius. He thought of

Cedric Diggory. He thought of all the terrible deeds he knew Lord

Voldemort had done. A flame seemed to leap inside his chest, searing

his throat.

"I'd want him finished," said Harry quietly. "And I'd want to do it."

"Of course you would!" cried Dumbledore. "You see, the prophecy

does not mean you have to do anything! But the prophecy caused Lord

Voldemort to mark you as his equal… In other words, you are free to

choose your way, quite free to turn your back on the prophecy! But

Voldemort continues to set store by the prophecy. He will continue to

hunt you… which makes it certain, really, that —"

"That one of us is going to end up killing the other," said Harry. "Yes."

But he understood at last what Dumbledore had been trying to tell him.

It was, he thought, the difference between being dragged into the arena

to face a battle to the death and walking into the arena with your head

held high. Some people, perhaps, would say that there was little to

choose between the two ways, but Dumbledore knew — and so do I,

thought Harry, with a rush of fierce pride, and so did my parents —

that there was all the difference in the world.

"I am proud of him," said Albus, "that was a huge step for him to take."

Everyone else nodded, there was no one who remained unmoved by Harry's

new resolution, it appeared to be a turning point in his attitude, and even

though it was only an insignificant change, it made all the difference in the

world. After all, being the ones who were being given this knowledge, they

were in the same position as Harry was, they could be dragged into the ring

by the responsibility that came with the privilege of being privy to the

information, or they could work to destroy Lord Voldemort with pride,

knowing that they were doing it to save their children and right the wrongs

of the future. To them as well, it did make all the difference in the world.

AN: Thanks for reading, please review! Cheers!

24. Chapter 24

Sectumsempra

AN: Hi all, sorry this is later than I anticipated, however I will compensate

and make this note short. Please enjoy the chapter, as usual I own nothing

that you can recognise. I have really appreciate the reviews and messages

sent to me, I am sorry if I don't always get to reply to them, but that is life

sometimes. Please enjoy the chapter. Happy Reading! Cheers!

"That was a very powerful ending to the chapter," said Lily, the tears which

welled in her eyes were a clear indication of just how much it had

emotionally moved her.

"If that was indeed the end, perhaps it would be a good place to stop for a

few minutes so that we can have a change of scenery and perhaps some

afternoon tea," suggested Minerva, "however we will make it a short break

only, so that we can keep reading, as I am sure we are all quite anxious to

see what will happen next."

It seemed the idea of a break was just what the healer ordered, as it gave

everyone a chance to regroup and for the tension to ease, however

Hermione knew that the encouraging spirit wouldn't last long, which was

highlighted by the fact that she used the time to surreptitiously check the

level of her bottle of alcohol, as she knew a commemorative drink would be

in order soon enough, a refilling charm would definitely be in order before

the book was over.

However Hermione's actions were not as surreptitious as she assumed, as

the two people sitting on either side of her noticed the action, and came to

the correct conclusion that someone was indeed going to be kicking the

proverbial cauldron soon, to be quite honest neither of them were

particularly anxious to find out who. Of Remus and Regulus, only the latter

had the audacity to point out Hermione's aforementioned lack of stealth

skills.

"Smooth," murmured Regulus to Hermione.

"What?"said Hermione looking confused, not knowing what he was

referring to, was Sirius making an idiot of himself again?

"Your bottle checking skills, very stealth like, you could practically be a

ninja," said Regulus with a slight smile, "Said action could either mean you

are either a closet alcoholic, or else murder and mayhem which will require

fortifying drinks is about to ensue."

Hermione gave him a slight glare, but you could tell her heart wasn't in it,

"from what you have heard this far, did you think that there is a possibility

of anything else happening?"

"What, your alcoholism? I didn't see any indications of it, there have been

no mention of raging parties or anything where you could become

addicted," said Regulus, purposefully side-stepping the rhetorical question

in an attempt to put a smile back on Hermione's face, even if just for a

second.

Hermione snorted, which was close enough for Regulus at the moment,

"both are probably true, because there will be enough commemorative

drinks and bad memories coming up that we will all probably be raging

alcoholics by the end of the books, including me."

"Perhaps we should diversify the alcohol then, make it more interesting,

firewhiskey probably gets boring after awhile," joked Regulus.

Hermione actually smiled at that comment, however the grin was slightly

devious, which would have made a lesser man more afraid, "if you say so,

you can go steal Minerva's collection of single malt scotch whiskey, and I'll

enlist Lily to charm a few bottles of mead from Slughorn."

Regulus had to restrain himself from pouting, "why I can't I do Slughorn,

that is almost too easy."

Hermione just smiled sweetly and deadly and raised a finger and ran it

down Regulus' face, "Precisely. Stealing from McGonagall will require

slytherin cunning, I doubt anyone else could pull such a feat."

Unfortunately Regulus' didn't take the bait this time, instead he responded

in kind and leaned forward and trailed his fingers down Hermione's cheek

mimicking her action, "if it is as necessary as you say, I am sure

McGonagall would volunteer it herself." Regulus paused and leaned in and

whispered into her ear, "Now that is the Slytherin response to the problem."

Across the room, Sirius looked up and saw his baby brother and time-

travelling friend staring into each other's eyes, caressing each other cheeks

and his brother whispering what appeared to be sweet-nothings into Mie's

ear. That would not do. It is his prerogative as an older brother to break up

any moments as he sees fit, besides, with neither of them appearing to

watch their backs, it was the perfect opportunity for a prank. Pulling out his

trusty wand, giving it a few flicks, the smirking animagus conjured a piece

of parchment, wrote on it and enchanted it with several interesting spells,

before tapping one last time with his wand. Sirius sat back to watch the

action unfold.

What appeared to be a paper plane zoomed towards Hermione and Regulus,

disrupting their quite verbal sparring, which both were enjoying thoroughly.

The plane collided head on with Regulus' cheek, which caused it to burst

open, filling the room with the music of the can-can, before a voice chimed

in singing along:

"Can you, can you separate please; can you step away please; and let us all

read!"

Unfortunately the pair weren't given time to respond to the enchanted letter

as two spells shot out of the envelope as it burst into flames at the end of the

song, one hit Hermione causing her voice to sound like helium, making her

impersonate a cross between a chipmunk and Minnie mouse. While the

second beam hit Regulus, which turned him into a bright yellow duck, said

Duck let out an indignant quack at his offending brother for the spell.

"Sirius!" screeched Hermione, however her new voice prevented it from

sounding at all intimidating, instead it sent the room into fits of laughter,

causing Hermione to cross her arms and scowl, however it was evident she

was amused, even if only by the plight of Regulus the bright yellow duck,

as her eyes were twinkling in delight. Deciding that if you can't beat 'em,

join 'em, Hermione turned to what used to be her friend and started singing

in her new, hilarious voice, "rubber ducky, you're the one, you make bath

time lots of fun, rubber duck I'm awfully fond of you."

This had the room completely in hysterics; those who knew Sesame Street

were particularly amused. For the sake of Regulus' ego, it was lucky the

spells were not permanent and wore off not long after.

"That was mean!" said Regulus, glaring amusedly at his brother.

"No it wasn't," said Alice, in between fits of laughter, "that was absolutely,

quacking, hilarious."

"Oh well," said Regulus shrugging with a devious grin, "I guess that means

that my revenge will have to be even more hilarious, besides, I will have

Mie to help!"

"Perhaps it is time to start reading," mediated Minerva, who while she

enjoyed the prank, felt it was time to move on before a full scale prank war

broke out.

"Probably lucky those two didn't make it into the same house, I don't think

Gryffindor tower would still be standing afterwards," murmured Remus to

Hermione, "though i must say, it is a nice change from the usual yelling,

insulting and hexing which they have going, you have no idea how bizarre

it is for us to see them get along... well somewhat anyway."

"This chapter is called Sectumsempra," read out Albus, whose calm voice

easily cut through the chaos of the room, drawing the attention to the more

serious subject at hand.

Unknown to most, Lily and Severus exchanged a look which basically said

'oh crap'. Even Hermione tensed slightly she was unsure of what would

happen in this chapter and the scenes which occurred prior to the casting of

the aforementioned curse.

Exhausted but delighted with his night's work, Harry told Ron and

Hermione everything that had happened during next morning's

Charms lesson (having first cast the Muffliato spell upon those nearest

them). They were both satisfyingly impressed by the way he had

wheedled the memory out of Slughorn and positively awed when he

told them about Voldemort's Horcruxes and Dumbledore's promise to

take Harry along, should he find another one.

"Wow," said Ron, when Harry had finally finished telling them

everything; Ron was waving his wand very vaguely in the direction of

the ceiling without paying the slightest bit of attention to what he was

doing. "Wow. You're actually going to go with Dumbledore… and try

and destroy… wow."

"Ron, you're making it snow," said Hermione patiently,

"I like snow," said Alice, "I should try that sometime, then I could make

snowballs and hex them toward people, all in the name of education of

course, Wolfie so often points out that my aim is rubbish, so perhaps he

won't object to being my first target."

grabbing his wrist and redirecting his wand away from the ceiling from

which, sure enough, large white flakes had started to fall. Lavender

Brown, Harry noticed, glared at Hermione from a neighbouring table

through very red eyes, and Hermione immediately let go of Ron's arm.

"Oh yeah," said Ron, looking down at his shoulders in vague surprise.

"Sorry… looks like we've all got horrible dandruff now…"

He brushed some of the fake snow off Hermione's shoulder. Lavender

burst into tears. Ron looked immensely guilty and turned his back on

her.

"We split up," he told Harry out of the corner of his mouth, "Last

night. When she saw me coming out of the dormitory with Hermione.

Obviously she couldn't see you, so she thought it had just been the two

of us."

"That is going to make for a tense dorm room," said Lily.

Hermione shrugged, "if worst came to worst, I would just crash in the boys

room on one of their beds."

"Ah," said Harry. "Well — you don't mind it's over, do you?"

"No," Ron admitted. "It was pretty bad while she was yelling, but at

least I didn't have to finish it."

"Coward," said Hermione, though she looked amused. "Well, it was a

bad night for romance all around. Ginny and Dean split up too,

Harry."

Harry thought there was a rather knowing look in her eye as she told

him that, but she could not possibly know that his insides were

suddenly dancing the conga. Keeping his face as immobile and his voice

as indifferent as he could, he asked, "How come?"

Hermione snorted, "he was about as subtle as father in that department, no

offence Lily."

Lily snorted, "none taken."

"Oh, something really silly… She said he was always trying to help her

through the portrait hole, like she couldn't climb in herself… but

they've been a bit rocky for ages."

Harry glanced over at Dean on the other side of the classroom. He

certainly looked unhappy.

"Of course, this puts you in a bit of a dilemma, doesn't it?" said

Hermione.

"What d'you mean?" said Harry quickly.

"The Quidditch team," said Hermione. "If Ginny and Dean aren't

speaking…"

"Oh — oh yeah," said Harry.

"Flitwick," said Ron in a warning tone. The tiny little Charms master

was bobbing his way toward them, and Hermione was the only one who

had managed to turn vinegar into wine; her glass flask was full of deep

crimson liquid, whereas the contents of Harry's and Ron's were still

murky brown.

"Now, now, boys," squeaked Professor Flitwick reproachfully. "A little

less talk, a little more action… Let me see you try…"

Together they raised their wands, concentrating with all their might,

and pointed them at their flasks. Harry's vinegar turned to ice; Ron's

flask exploded.

"Nice"

"Yes… for homework," said Professor Flitwick, reemerging from under

the table and pulling shards of glass out of the top of his hat,

"practice."

They had one of their rare joint free periods after Charms and walked

back to the common room together. Ron seemed to be positively light-

hearted about the end of his relationship with Lavender, and Hermione

seemed cheery too, though when asked what she was grinning about

she simply said, "It's a nice day."

"A nice day for what though?" teased Alice, waggling her eyebrows.

Neither of them seemed to have noticed that a fierce battle was raging

inside Harry's brain:

She's Ron's sister.

But she's ditched Dean!

She's still Ron's sister.

I'm his best mate!

That'll make it worse.

If I talked to him first —

He'd hit you.

What if I don't care?

He's your best mate!

"That is quite the battle," said Remus dryly.

"And I wasn't quite as oblivious as painted either," said Hermione, "his eyes

were glazed over and he wasn't participating in our conversation, which

meant that some deep thinking had to be going on upstairs."

Harry barely noticed that they were climbing through the portrait hole

into the sunny common room, and only vaguely registered the small

group of seventh years clustered together there, until Hermione cried,

"Katie! You're back! Are you okay?"

Harry stared: It was indeed Katie Bell, looking completely healthy and

surrounded by her jubilant friends.

"Oh, I am glad that she is alright," said Lily, "it was horrible what happened

to her, it is good to see she is back and healthy."

"I'm really well!" she said happily. "They let me out of St. Mungos on

Monday, I had a couple of days at home with Mum and Dad and then

came back here this morning. Leanne was just telling me about

McLaggen and the last match, Harry…"

"Yeah," said Harry, "well, now you're back and Ron's fit, we'll have a

decent chance of thrashing Ravenclaw, which means we could still be in

the running for the Cup. Listen, Katie…"

He had to put the question to her at once; his curiosity even drove

Ginny temporarily from his brain. He dropped his voice as Katie's

friends started gathering up their things; apparently they were late for

Transfiguration.

"… that necklace… can you remember who gave it to you now?"

"No," said Katie, shaking her head ruefully. "Everyone's been asking

me, but I haven't got a clue. The last thing I remember was walking

into the ladies' in the Three Broomsticks."

"You definitely went into the bathroom, then?" said Hermione.

"Well, I know I pushed open the door," said Katie, "so I suppose

whoever Imperiused me was standing just behind it. After that, my

memory's a blank until about two weeks ago in St. Mungo's. Listen, I'd

better go, I wouldn't put it past McGonagall to give me lines even if it is

my first day back…"

"I would not be so cruel," said Minerva, "the poor child has been in

hospital."

"That never stopped you doing that to us," pointed out Sirius cheekily.

"That is because no other students have the audacity to do the things you

do, therefore you are worthy of an exception."

"Hear that Prongs, Paddy, we are worthy of an exception," added Remus

with a grin, "always good to know we make an impression."

She caught up her bag and books and hurried after her friends, leaving

Harry, Ron, and Hermione to sit down at a window table and ponder

what she had told them.

"So it must have been a girl or a woman who gave Katie the necklace,"

said Hermione, "to be in the ladies' bathroom."

"Or someone who looked like a girl or a woman," said Harry. "Don't

forget, there was a cauldron full of Polyjuice Potion at Hogwarts. We

know some of it got stolen…"

In his mind's eye, he watched a parade of Crabbes and Goyles prance

past, all transformed into girls.

"Good point," said Regulus, "because that even opens up the possibility of

Draco being in Hogesmeade, as he may have had one of his lackeys take the

potion and do the detention for him."

"I never thought of that," said Hermione, "not that it was what happened,

but you make an interesting point."

"I think I'm going to take another swig of Felix," said Harry, "and

have a go at the Room of Requirement again."

"That would be a complete waste of potion," said Hermione flatly,

putting down the copy of Spellmans Syllabary she had just taken out of

her bag. "Luck can only get you so far, Harry. The situation with

Slughorn was different; you always had the ability to persuade him,

you just needed to tweak the circumstances a bit. Luck isn't enough to

get you through a powerful enchantment, though. Don't go wasting the

rest of that potion! You'll need all the luck you can get if Dumbledore

takes you along with him…" She dropped her voice to a whisper.

"True," said James.

"He is darn lucky he didn't do something so foolish, I would murder him!"

said Hermione, thinking about the role the potion played in keeping them

safe and all relatively unharmed the night of the incident on the astronomy

tower.

"Couldn't we make some more?" Ron asked Harry, ignoring

Hermione. "It'd be great to have a stock of it… Have a look in the

book…"

Harry pulled his copy of Advanced Potion-Making out of his bap, and

looked up Felix Felicis.

"It is a difficult potion," admitted Lily.

"Blimey, it's seriously complicated," he said, running an eye down the

list of ingredients. "And it takes six months… You've got to let it

stew…"

"Typical," said Ron.

Harry was about to put his book away again when he noticed the

corner of a page folded down; turning to it, he saw the Sectumsempra

spell, captioned "For Enemies," that he had marked a few weeks

previously. He had still not found out what it did, mainly because he

did not want to test it around Hermione, but he was considering trying

it out on McLaggen next time he came up behind him unawares.

Lily paled, she hoped beyond all else that Harry would not do that, because

no-one deserved that spell, while Severus obviously wrote 'for enemies' she

wrote 'not for human use' on her own notes, along with the counter curse

they found necessary to develop. If Harry ended up using that spell all hell

would break loose on earth, no exaggeration.

The only person who was not particularly pleased to see Katie Bell

back at school was Dean Thomas, because he would no longer be

required to fill her place as Chaser. He took the blow stoically enough

when Harry told him, merely grunting and shrugging, but Harry had

the distinct feeling as he walked away that Dean and Seamus were

muttering mutinously behind his back.

"Could be the fact that he knew that Ginny still liked him as well," pointed

out Hermione.

"How do you know that?" wondered Regulus.

"I spent a bit of time with Dean the following year," said Hermione,

wincing as she thought of her tenure at Malfoy Manor, and the necessary

respite found at Shell Cottage with the merry group of escapees, although

she made some strong friendships in that time, it was still painful to think

about.

The following fortnight saw the best Quidditch practices Harry had

known as Captain. His team was so pleased to be rid of McLaggen, so

glad to have Katie back at last, that they were flying extremely well.

Ginny did not seem at all upset about the breakup with Dean; on the

contrary, she was the life and soul of the team. Her imitations of Ron

anxiously bobbing up and down in front of the goal posts as the Quaffle

sped toward him, or of Harry bellowing orders at McLaggen before

being knocked out cold, kept them all highly amused. Harry, laughing

with the others, was glad to have an innocent reason to look at Ginny;

he had received several more Bludger injuries during practice because

he had not been keeping his eyes on the Snitch.

"Idiot," said Remus shaking his head, "just like his father."

The battle still raged inside his head: Ginny or Ron? Sometimes he

thought that the post-Lavender Ron might not mind too much if he

asked Ginny out, but then he remembered Ron's expression when he

had seen her kissing Dean, and was sure that Ron would consider it

base treachery if Harry so much as held her hand…

"Somehow I think Harry will want to do more than hold her hand," joked

Alice, "teenage male and all that."

Yet Harry could not help himself talking to Ginny, laughing with her,

walking back from practice with her; however much his conscience

ached, he found himself wondering how best to get her on her own. It

would have been ideal if Slughorn had given another of his little

parties, for Ron would not be around — but unfortunately, Slughorn

seemed to have given them up. Once or twice Harry considered asking

for Hermione's help, but he did not think he could stand seeing the

smug look on her face; he thought he caught it sometimes when

Hermione spotted him staring at Ginny or laughing at her jokes. And

to complicate matters, he had the nagging worry that if he didn't do it,

somebody else was sure to ask Ginny out soon: He and Ron were at

least agreed on the fact that she was too popular for her own good.

All in all, the temptation to take another gulp of Felix Felicis was

becoming stronger by the day, for surely this was a case for, as

Hermione put it, "tweaking the circumstances"? The balmy days slid

gently through May, and Ron seemed to be there at Harry's shoulder

every time he saw Ginny. Harry found himself longing for a stroke of

luck that would somehow cause Ron to realize that nothing would

make him happier than his best friend and his sister falling for each

other and to leave them alone together for longer than a few seconds.

There seemed no chance of either while the final Quidditch game of the

season was looming; Ron wanted to talk tactics with Harry all the time

and had little thought for anything else.

"That would be Ron," said Hermione fondly, "however, I think Ron would

prefer Ginny to date Harry than any other, because he trusts Harry to be

able to look after her, as well as the fact that he and his family had this

fantasy of a happy Weasley family, keeping the trio together for life and that

kind of thing."

"Lunacy and fantasy are probably not the best foundation for a

relationship," said Sirius cynically, "I doubt it would work out if that is the

case."

"It is kind of romantic though," said Lily, "I mean it would be nice, because

he would be part of a family and have a family who loves him."

"And she has red hair," pointed out James, "there is no better colour in

existence, my son has good taste."

A few people rolled their eyes at that.

"I think that is a matter of opinion, just because Lily is perfect for you, it

isn't necessarily because of her hair colour, what would you do if she

decided to go blonde? So you can't really generalise and say that all red-

heads are perfect for everyone, or at least for all Potters," pointed out Frank.

Ron was not unique in this respect; interest in the Gryffindor-

Ravenclaw game was running extremely high throughout the school,

for the match would decide the Championship, which was still wide

open. If Gryffindor beat Ravenclaw by a margin of three hundred

points (a tall order, and yet Harry had never known his team to fly

better) then they would win the Championship. If they won by less than

three hundred points, they would come second to Ravenclaw; if they

lost by a hundred points they would be third behind Hufflepuff and if

they lost by more than a hundred, they would be in fourth place and

nobody, Harry thought, would ever, ever let him forget that it had been

he who had captained Gryffindor to their first bottom-of-the-table

defeat in two centuries.

The run-up to this crucial match had all the usual features: members of

rival Houses attempting to intimidate opposing teams in the corridors;

unpleasant chants about individual players being rehearsed loudly as

they passed; the team members themselves either swaggering around

enjoying all the attention or else dashing into bathrooms between

classes to throw up. Somehow, the game had become inextricably

linked in Harry's mind with success or failure in his plans for Ginny.

He could not help feeling that if they won by more than three hundred

points, the scenes of euphoria and a nice loud after-match party might

be just as good as a hearty swig of Felix Felicis.

Hermione rolled her eyes at that, seems that one wish did come true for

Harry.

In the midst of all his preoccupations, Harry had not forgotten his

other ambition: finding out what Malfoy was up to in the Room of

Requirement. He was still checking the Marauder's Map, and as he was

unable to locate Malfoy on it, deduced that Malfoy was still spending

plenty of time within the room. Although Harry was losing hope that he

would ever succeed in getting inside the Room of Requirement, he

attempted it whenever he was in the vicinity, but no matter how he

reworded his request, the wall remained firmly doorless.

A few days before the match against Ravenclaw, Harry found himself

walking down to dinner alone from the common room, Ron having

rushed off into a nearby bathroom to throw up yet again, and

Hermione having dashed off to see Professor Vector about a mistake

she thought she might have made in her last Arithmancy essay. More

out of habit than anything, Harry made his usual detour along the

seventh-floor corridor, checking the Marauder's Map as he went. For a

moment he could not find Malfoy anywhere and assumed he must

indeed be inside the Room of Requirement again, but then he saw

Malfoy's tiny, labeled dot standing in a boys' bathroom on the floor

below, accompanied, not by Crabbe or Goyle, but by Moaning Myrtle.

"Why is he in there?" asked Lily.

"Well it is a boys bathroom, so the question is why would Myrtle be there,"

said James, "is there a secret rendez-vous or is Myrtle playing peeping Tom,

or Tomasina again?"

Harry only stopped staring at this unlikely coupling when he walked

right into a suit of armor. The loud crash brought him out of his

reverie; hurrying from the scene lest Filch turn up, he dashed down the

marble staircase and along the passageway below. Outside the

bathroom, he pressed his ear against the door. He could not hear

anything.

"Well people don't usually chat whilst on the dunny," pointed out Sirius,

"and if Myrtle is ogling again then I doubt she would announce her

presence."

He very quietly pushed the door open. Draco Malfoy was standing with

his back to the door, his hands clutching either side of the sink, his

white-blond head bowed.

"Don't," crooned Moaning Myrtle's voice from one of the cubicles.

"Don't… tell me what's wrong… I can help you…"

"No one can help me," said Malfoy. His whole body was shaking. "I

can't do it… I can't… It won't work… and unless I do it soon… he says

he'll kill me…"

"Seems the ideal of being a death eater is well and truly broken,"

commented Regulus, "he was immature at the start of the book, seeing the

mark and a lifetime of servitude as something to boast about, seems he has

finally woken up to reality. Trust me the reality is not pleasant."

"When did you wake up to reality?" asked James, no one could decide

whether the question was meant to be as antagonistic as it came out,

however Regulus did answer it.

"I joined knowing that the Dark Lord was a sadistic, power hungry bastard

and that he probably didn't care about pure-blood supremacy at all, so I had

a clearer picture than Draco is obviously going to have" pointed out

Regulus, "however the reality of what they do is still shocking, it only took

a few meetings to realise that it was worse than I could have ever imagined.

No matter how mentally prepared you are for what you think is going to

happen as a Death Eater, the reality is just so much worse. I can honestly

say that I pity Draco for what he must be going through."

Hermione gave Regulus' hand a squeeze; she thought he was very brave to

say that in front of such an audience. She knew that it must be a hard topic

to discuss, particularly in a room of people who are adamantly against all

Death Eaters. Hermione thought back to the horcrux hunt, even then she

was still continually surprised about the reality of the evil embodied by the

death eaters. Her time at Malfoy Manor, hearing about and seeing the

results of the Carrows' influence at Hogwarts, these horrors took her

completely by surprise and even now, her mind still boggled at what had

happened... what the death eaters had done. Hermione closed her eyes as

the suppressed memories started to assault her. 'No' she thought, she would

not let them out, she decided she would be strong and conquer them,

leaving them to fester another day. She gave Regulus' hand another squeeze,

this time for her own benefit, took a deep breath and waited for the

headmaster to continue.

And Harry realized, with a shock so huge it seemed to root him to the

spot, that Malfoy was crying — actually crying — tears streaming

down his pale face into the grimy basin. Malfoy gasped and gulped and

then, with a great shudder, looked up into flu-cracked mirror and saw

Harry staring at him over his shoulder.

"Merlin," said Alice, "this isn't going to go down well, stupid male pride,

thinking that people seeing them crying emasculates them, well you should

suck it up and get over it, it is no big deal.

Malfoy wheeled around, drawing his wand. Instinctively, Harry pulled

out his own. Malfoy's hex missed Harry by inches, shattering the lamp

on the wall beside him; Harry threw himself sideways, thought

Levicorpus and flicked his wand, but Malfoy blocked the jinx and

raised his wand for another —

"No! No! Stop it!" squealed Moaning Myrtle, her voice echoing loudly

around the tiled room. "Stop! STOP!"

There was a loud bang and the bin behind Harry exploded;

"What type of spells is Malfoy throwing?" asked an outraged Lily, "sure

Harry saw him crying and he is probably stressed with everything that is

going on, but that is no reason for Malfoy to try and murder my son!"

"I must say though," said Minerva, "I am proud of Mr Potter for the way he

is handling himself so far, he is only trying to incapacitate Mr Malfoy,

rather than do lasting damage, most others would usually fight fire with fire

so to speak, rather than just trying to protect themselves."

Harry attempted a Leg-Locker Curse that backfired off the wall

behind Malfoy's ear and smashed the cistern beneath Moaning Myr-tle,

who screamed loudly; water poured everywhere and Harry slipped as

Malfoy, his face contorted, cried, "Cruci —"

"WHAT!" shrieked Lily, "that thing is using the cruciatous curse, and

unforgivable curse, on my son at school!"

The rest of the room echoed Lily's sentiments, only Albus was able to put

aside his anger (which was indeed bubbling beneath the surface almost

reaching boiling point) to notice that Hermione had paled significantly and

looked shocked to her very core, it appeared her shock was eclipsed only by

one other emotion which was playing on her expressive face: guilt. Albus

had a feeling he knew the cause of it as well.

"I think we can safely say that any action Harry takes now is justified," said

James furiously, no one tried to torture his son and got away with it, if it

was possible he would take himself to the future and perform some rather

inventive and painful, but still legal, hexes on Draco Malfoy, after all it is

impossible for a lemming to be able to cast unforgivable on anyone, an idea

which was made even more appealing by the fact that lemmings had a habit

of drowning themselves, which would make James feel infinitely better

about the whole situation.

In response to James comment, Minerva nodded her head, whatever spell

Harry did from now on would be more than justified.

"SECTUMSEMPRA!" bellowed Harry from the floor, waving his wand

wildly.

Severus widened his eyes, he could almost see what was going to happen

and it would not be pretty, Lily however took a different opinion.

"Good!" she said viciously, "he deserves that spell for what he tried to do to

my son."

Blood spurted from Malfoy's face and chest as though he had been

slashed with an invisible sword. He staggered backward and collapsed

onto the waterlogged floor with a great splash, his wand falling from

his limp right hand.

Severus raised an eyebrow, Harry obviously put quite a bit of power behind

the spell for it to create such huge effect.

"Mother of Merlin!" cursed Remus, "what type of spell was that?"

Lily's eyes widened, while she wished the pain and some of the injury

associated with the spell on Draco for what he did, she didn't envisage it

being that life-threatening, her anger turned to worry as she pondered what

could happen to her son if he killed Draco Malfoy. Unfortunately this was a

distinct possibility given the force of the spell used and the fact that the

only people who knew the counter curse were herself and Severus, the only

hope for her son is if Severus found them soon.

"No —" gasped Harry.

Slipping and staggering, Harry got to his feet and plunged toward

Malfoy, whose face was now shining scarlet, his white hands scrabbling

at his blood-soaked chest.

"No — I didn't —"

Harry did not know what he was saying; he fell to his knees beside

Malfoy, who was shaking uncontrollably in a pool of his own blood.

Moaning Myrtle let out a deafening scream:

"MURDER! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER!"

The door banged open behind Harry and he looked up, terrified: Snape

had burst into the room, his face livid.

"Thank Merlin for that," said Lily, letting out a sigh of relief, which was the

opposite reaction to the other students in the room as they thought that

Snape's entrance would mean that Harry was screwed.

Pushing Harry roughly aside, he knelt over Malfoy, drew his wand, and

traced it over the deep wounds Harry's curse had made, muttering an

incantation that sounded almost like song. The flow of blood seemed to

ease; Snape wiped the residue from Malfoy's face and repeated his

spell. Now the wounds seemed to be knitting.

Frank eyed Lily and Severus suspiciously, a theory forming in his head,

which answered the questions cropping in his brain: why did Lily seem to

know what the spell did before it was cast? Why was she specifically

relieved when it was Severus who came onto the scene? And finally, how

did Severus know the counter curse to a homemade spell? All these factors

seemed to paint Snape as the half-blood prince, with Lily as a possible

confidant or side-kick. But that left one question, why the name 'half-blood

Prince'?

Harry was still watching, horrified by what he had done, barely aware

that he too was soaked in blood and water. Moaning Myrtle was still

sobbing and wailing overhead. When Snape had performed his

countercurse for the third time, he half-lifted Malfoy into a standing

position.

"You need the hospital wing. There may be a certain amount of

scarring, but if you take dittany immediately we might avoid even

that… Come…"

He supported Malfoy across the bathroom, turning at the door to say in

a voice of cold fury, "And you, Potter… You wait here for me."

It did not occur to Harry for a second to disobey. He stood up slowly,

shaking, and looked down at the wet floor. There were bloodstains

floating like crimson flowers across its surface. He could not even find

it in himself to tell Moaning Myrtle to be quiet, as she continued to wail

and sob with increasingly evident enjoyment. Snape returned ten

minutes later. He stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind

him.

"Go," he said to Myrtle, and she swooped back into her toilet at once,

leaving a ringing silence behind her.

"I didn't mean it to happen," said Harry at once. His voice echoed in

the cold, watery space. "I didn't know what that spell did."

But Snape ignored this. "Apparently I underestimated you, Potter," he

said quietly. "Who would have thought you knew such Dark Magic?

Who taught you that spell?"

"I — read about it somewhere."

"Where?"

"It was — a library book," Harry invented wildly. "I can't remember

what it was call —"

Severus raised an eyebrow, he knew instantly that Harry's excuse wasn't

going to fly.

"Liar," said Snape. Harry's throat went dry. He knew what Snape was

going to do and he had never been able to prevent it…

The bathroom seemed to shimmer before his eyes; he struggled to

block out all thought, but try as he might, the Half-Blood Prince's copy

of Advanced Potion-Making swam hazily to the forefront of his mind.

"If you are going to use legimancy on my son, I am sure you would realise

that he did it in self-defence and not punish him for it and instead tell the

appropriate authorities about the use of an unforgivable curse," said James

pointedly, knowing instantly that this desire wasn't going to match up with

reality.

And then he was staring at Snape again, in the midst of this wrecked,

soaked bathroom. He stared into Snape's black eyes, hoping against

hope that Snape had not seen what he feared, but —

"Bring me your schoolbag," said Snape softly, "and all of your

schoolbooks. All of them. Bring them to me here. Now!"

There was no point arguing. Harry turned at once and splashed out of

the bathroom. Once in the corridor, he broke into a run toward

Gryffindor Tower. Most people were walking the other way; they gaped

at him, drenched in water and blood, but he answered none of the

questions fired at him as he ran past. He felt stunned; it was as though

a beloved pet had turned suddenly savage; what had the Prince been

thinking to copy such a spell into his book? And what would happen

when Snape saw it? Would he tell Slughorn — Harry's stomach

churned — how Harry had been achieving such good results in Potions

all year? Would he confiscate or destroy the book that had taught

Harry so much… the book that had become a kind of guide and friend?

Harry could not let it happen… He could not…

"I think he is focusing on the wrong thing," said Remus, "he almost killed

someone, admittedly in self-defence and he is thinking about a book."

"It is a coping technique, Mr Lupin," said Minerva, "you see it frequently,

when people aren't ready to face what they have done or had done to them

they focus on something minute to help them cope and keep them sane."

"Where've you —? Why are you soaking —? Is that blood." Ron was

standing at the top of the stairs, looking bewildered at, the sight of

Harry.

"I need your book," Harry panted. "Your Potions book. Quick… give

it to me…"

"But what about the Half-Blood —"

"I'll explain later!"

"He is covered in blood and obviously in a state of shock and probably

looking like hell warmed over and Ron thinks it is the appropriate time to

play 20 questions?" asked Sirius, arching an eyebrow.

Ron pulled his copy of Advanced Potion-Making out of his bag and

handed it over; Harry sprinted off past him and back to the common

room. Here, he seized his schoolbag, ignoring the amazed looks of

several people who had already finished their dinner, threw himself

back out of the portrait hole, and hurtled off along the seventh-floor

skidded to a halt beside the tapestry of dancing trolls, closed his eyes,

and began to walk. I need a place to hide my book… I need a place to

hide my book… I need a place to hide my book… Three times he

walked up and down in front of the stretch of blank wall. When he

opened his eyes, there it was at last: the door to the Room of

Requirement. Harry wrenched it open, flung himself inside, and

slammed it shut.

He gasped. Despite his haste, his panic, his fear of what awaited him

back in the bathroom, he could not help but be overawed by what he

was looking at. He was standing in a room the size of a large cathedral,

whose high windows were sending shafts of light down upon what

looked like a city with towering walls, built of what Harry knew must

be objects hidden by generations of Hogwarts inhabitants. There were

alleyways and roads bordered by teetering piles of broken and

damaged furniture, stowed away, perhaps, to hide the evidence of

mishandled magic, or else hidden by castle-proud house-elves. There

were thousands and thousands of books, no doubt banned or graffitied

or stolen. There were winged catapults and Fanged Frisbees, some still

with enough life in them to hover halfheartedly over the mountains of

other forbidden items; there were chipped bottles of congealed potions,

hats, jewels, cloaks; there were what looked like dragon eggshells,

corked bottles whose contents still shimmered evilly, several rusting

swords, and a heavy, bloodstained axe.

"I don't think we want to know what that was used for," said Alice, trying to

bring some levity back into the room, "perhaps the execution of treasonous

flamingos?"

"How can flamingos commit treason?" wondered Regulus, picking up on

Alice's goal.

"You should watch the movie Aladdin when it comes out then," muttered

Hermione, her face still pale and guilt-stricken at what she had heard. She

was in the long and arduous process of beating herself up over the fact that

she didn't believe Harry when he told her that he used the curse as a defence

against the cruciatous curse. However the masochism she was currently

indulging in was gaining the attention of others in the room, fortunately no

one had commented on it... yet.

Harry hurried forward into one of the many alleyways between all this

hidden treasure. He turned right past an enormous stuffed troll, ran on

a short way, took a left at the broken Vanishing Cabinet in which

Montague had got lost the previous year, finally pausing beside a large

cupboard that seemed to have had acid thrown at its blistered surface.

He opened one of the cupboard's creaking doors: It had already been

used as a hiding place for something in a cage that had long since died;

its skeleton had five legs. He stuffed the Half-Blood Princes book

behind the cage and slammed the door. He paused for a moment, his

heart thumping horribly, gazing around at all the clutter… Would he

be able to find this spot again amidst all this junk? Seizing the chipped

bust of an ugly old warlock from on top of a nearby crate, he stood it

on top of the cupboard where the book was now hidden, perched a

dusty old wig and a tarnished tiara on the statues head to make it more

distinctive, then sprinted back through the alleyways of hidden junk as

fast as he could go, back to the door, back out onto the corridor, where

he slammed the door behind him, and it turned at once back into stone.

Harry ran flat-out toward the bathroom on the floor below, cramming

Ron's copy of Advanced Potion-Making into his bag as he did so. A

minute later, he was back in front of Snape, who held out his hand

wordlessly for Harry's schoolbag. Harry handed it over, panting, a

searing pain in his chest, and waited. One by one, Snape extracted

Harry's books and examined them. Finally, the only book left was the

Potions book, which he looked at very carefully before speaking.

"This is your copy of Advanced Potion-Making, is it, Potter?"

"Yes," said Harry, still breathing hard.

"Liar," murmured Regulus quietly.

"You're quite sure of that, are you, Potter?"

"Yes," said Harry, with a touch more defiance.

"This is the copy of Advanced Potion-Making that you purchased from

Flourish and Blotts?"

"Yes," said Harry firmly.

"Then why," asked Snape, "does it have the name 'Roonil Wazlib'

written inside the front cover?"

A few people could not repress their snorts at that.

Harry's heart missed a beat. "That's my nickname," he said.

"Your nickname," repeated Snape.

"Yeah… that's what my friends call me," said Harry.

"Really?" asked Regulus looking slightly amused at the situation, "tell me

Mie, how often do you call him Roonil Wazlib?"

Hermione looked up, distracted from her self-recriminations by the

question, "never," she admitted, "though perhaps I should start," she added

with a fleeting smile, which didn't last long, as she was back to wallowing

in guilt a few moments later.

"I understand what a nickname is," said Snape. The cold, black eyes

were boring once more into Harry's; he tried not to look into them.

Close your mind… Close your mind… But he had never learned how to

do it properly…

"Do you know what I think, Potter?" said Snape, very quietly. "I think

that you are a liar and a cheat and that you deserve detention with me

every Saturday until the end of term. What do you think, Potter?"

"I think that is completely unfair, considering it was done in self-defence,"

said Minerva, "I anticipate my future self having words with the Professor

and Mr Malfoy facing a similar punishment, although probably being

cursed that badly as a result will teach him a few lessons."

Hermione wondered if the future Minerva actually knew the real story, as

Harry never told her exactly, he probably felt guilty which would add to the

fact that he didn't consult teachers very willingly anyway and that she did

not encourage him to take up the unjust punishment with his head of house,

due to the fact that she didn't believe him when he told her. Hermione also

doubted that Professor Snape would have told the whole story either,

because he took the vow to watch over Draco and do everything in his

power to assist him, so she doubted he would have made public the news

that Draco was meant to be rotting in Azkaban for his actions, as that would

not be conducive to aiding Draco in his task and would thus result in the

death of Snape. Despite all this, the injustice rankled, particularly the

unknowing, but now obvious part Hermione herself played in allowing,

even encouraging it to occur, by simply not believing her best friend when

he told her what happened. Hermione sighed internally, she should have

known that Harry would not lie about something like that.

"I — I don't agree, sir," said Harry, still refusing to look into Snape's

eyes.

"Well, we shall see how you feel after your detentions," said Snape.

"Ten o'clock Saturday morning, Potter. My office."

"But sir…" said Harry, looking up desperately. "Quidditch… the last

match of the…"

"Ten o'clock," whispered Snape, with a smile that showed his yellow

teeth. "Poor Gryffindor… fourth place this year, I fear…"

"What?" said James, "that is not fair, he is using that as an excuse!"

Sirius didn't say anything in response to that, he could sympathise with how

Harry was feeling, as he made a huge error which could have killed

someone, by acting without thinking based on anger, although Harry's was

definitely more morally correct than his own was as it was truly done in

self-defence. However that point aside, he could understand the guilt that

Harry was feeling and the strain that the inevitable isolation from the rest of

his friends and housemates would bring. Sirius wondered for a moment if

the future Severus was seeing the shrieking shack incident when he arrived,

which prompted the harsh reaction that it did. However one thing, having

experienced the worst punishments Hogwarts could offer thanks to his

aforementioned deadly mistake, Sirius could recognise that it wasn't the

world's harshest punishment, which showed that Snape recognised that

there were extenuating circumstances. As a result of the shrieking shack

incident Sirius received a year's worth of weekly detentions, three times a

week which dropped down to one in the new school year, however they

always fell on quidditch days as a punishment, so a few weeks compared to

the 40 odd weeks comprising a school semester was relatively short, this

was discounting the other interesting punishments assigned to him by the

headmaster and various members of staff and the estrangement from his

friends. Sirius knew without a doubt that the future Severus, while

definitely a first-rate bastard, did recognise that it wasn't done with

malicious intent and this was reflected in the punishment.

And he left the bathroom without another word, leaving Harry to stare

into the cracked mirror, feeling sicker, he was sure, than Ron had ever

felt in his life.

Sirius nodded in sympathy, the guilt of knowing that you could have killed

someone and taken their life through your actions, no matter how much you

don't like them, was a heavy cross to bear.

"I won't say 'I told you so,'" said Hermione, an hour later in the

common room.

"Why would you say that?" asked Lily looking slightly confused at

Hermione's response, "I figured that while you wouldn't appreciate the

curse you would sympathise with the circumstances and probably declare a

desire to turn Malfoy into a toad despite his injuries."

This caused another stab of guilt to Hermione's gut.

"Leave it, Hermione," said Ron angrily.

Harry had never made it to dinner; he had no appetite at all. He had

just finished telling Ron, Hermione, and Ginny what had happened, not

that there seemed to have been much need. The news had traveled very

fast: Apparently Moaning Myrtle had taken it upon herself to pop up

in every bathroom in the castle to tell the story; Malfoy had already

been visited in the hospital wing by Pansy Parkinson, who had lost no

time in vilifying Harry far and wide, and Snape had told the staff

precisely what had happened. Harry had already been called out of the

common room to endure fifteen highly unpleasant minutes in the

company of Professor McGonagall, who had told him he was lucky not

to have been expelled and that she supported wholeheartedly Snape's

punishment of detention every Saturday until the end of term.

Minerva raised an eyebrow at that, "I have a feeling that the information I

received was incomplete."

"Perhaps the story passed on watered down the curses used by Draco?"

suggested Alice, "as if Sevie-boy's life is tied to helping Draco with his

mission, he probably wouldn't be proclaiming the need for the ferret to be

expelled, probably be counter-productive to his health is he played an active

role in the expulsion and incarceration of Draco Malfoy."

Minerva nodded, knowing that was probably the case, however the fact that

she once again failed her charge bristled, it was no wonder he never told the

staff anything, her own track record at helping Harry in his time of need

was appalling at best, she failed to help him during the tournament, with

Umbridge and now in protecting him from such a punishment when he

acted purely in self-defence against an unforgivable curse.

"I told you there was something wrong with that Prince person,"

Hermione said, evidently unable to stop herself. "And I was right,

wasn't I."

"Shouldn't you be consoling him?" asked James pointedly, he was not

above guilt-tripping Hermione for her actions, "after all he was almost

tortured at school, a place which he considers to be a safe haven and home

and almost killed someone unintentionally, which probably is not all that

good for a healthy mental state. I thought you were meant to be the

sensitive girl?"

Hermione took a deep breath as guilt once again assaulted her, she knew

she deserved James' censure, because not believing Harry was a huge

mistake and one she never took steps to atone for, if it was anyone else but

Harry she doubted they would even want to have her as a friend after this

incident.

"No, I don't think you were," said Harry stubbornly.

He was having a bad enough time without Hermione lecturing him; the

looks on the Gryffindor team's faces when he had told them he would

not be able to play on Saturday had been the worst punishment of all.

He could feel Ginny's eyes on him now but did not meet them; he did

not want to see disappointment or anger there. He had just told her

that she would be playing Seeker on Saturday and that Dean would be

rejoining the team as Chaser in her place. Perhaps, if they won, Ginny

and Dean would make up during the post-match euphoria… The

thought went through Harry like an icy knife…

"Is that seriously what he is worried about?" asked Alice, "and they say that

women are illogical and overly emotionally."

"Harry," said Hermione, "how can you still stick up for that book when

that spell —"

"I beg to differ Smith," said James, "impressing a pretty woman is always

important, however how can you say that women are logical when Mie is

harassing Harry about a book when he acted out of self-defence."

"I have to ask though," said Lily, voicing everyone's thoughts, "why are you

acting like that?"

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment in an attempt to control the guilt

bubbling within her and to keep some form of semblance of control over

her emotions, which was difficult considering she could feel everyone's

eyes on her.

"I didn't believe him," said Hermione quietly, almost too soft for anyone to

understand.

"Sorry?" asked James, "I didn't quite hear you." James knew he was being

an arse, however considering what had happened to his son, he felt he was

entitled to it since it was in Harry's defence. On top of this the emotional

weight of what was going on was beginning to get to him again and he

needed to siphon his frustration onto someone, Hermione's less than stellar

reaction handed him a perfect opportunity.

"I didn't believe him!" said Hermione this time loudly.

"Why not?" asked Remus, "it is fairly obvious that he isn't the one in the

wrong."

"It just seemed unbelievable," said Hermione shaking her head, "I mean

sure I know that Harry and Draco don't get on and occasionally Draco

throws a hex at Harry, however the fact that he was throwing an

unforgivable, at school of all places just seemed unbelievable. I thought

Harry was exaggerating to cover his own backside."

"What did you think had happened?" asked Albus kindly, he could

understand the troubled girl's point of view, however the fact that such a

thing occurred in his school and that the perpetrators were allowed to get

away without facing the true extent of their actions did not please him, quite

the opposite to be honest.

"Well, as you know from the book so far, Harry had a habit of testing out

these spells, I didn't know that there was a warning or anything attached to

the spell, so I figured that Harry was experimenting with the spells again,

either using Draco as a test dummy, which I know is unlikely given Harry's

personality, or he used it in retaliation to a minor hex and that when he saw

what it truly did he panicked and exaggerated to try and keep himself out of

trouble," explained Hermione, shaking slightly as she let a few stray tears

make tracks down her face.

Regulus made the first move and put his arm around her, "hey, we know

you screwed up, you aren't perfect, no one is, but it is obvious that you feel

bad about it and regret it, besides we've all put our foot it in and screwed up

and said something we regretted later, so we can't exactly judge you for it.

Besides, I am sure Harry forgave you for it, he forgave Ron for not

believing him once, so I am sure he would do the same for you, and if he

can forgive you than you should be able to forgive yourself and move on."

Hermione gave him a hug for that, and a quick kiss on the cheek, which

made Regulus smile for some reason.

"Thanks," she whispered and then turned to the room as a whole, "I do feel

bad about it, I know I let Harry down, when he obviously needed my

support. I should have known he wouldn't lie about someone trying to use

the cruciatous curse on him, yet I didn't believe him, but I would appreciate

it if we could move on, because Regulus was right, we have all screwed up

and said things which were stupid, so if we could get back to reading it

would be much appreciated."

Albus was proud that Hermione was strong enough to admit that she

screwed up to a room full of people, that took great courage, which many

did not have, so he decided to do what the time traveller requested and

continue reading.

"Will you stop harping on about the book!" snapped Harry. "The

Prince only copied it out! It's not like he was advising anyone to use it!

For all we know, he was making a note of something that had been used

against him!"

"I don't believe this," said Hermione. "You're actually defending —"

"I'm not defending what I did!" said Harry quickly. "I wish I hadn't

done it, and not just because I've got about a dozen detentions. You

know I wouldn't've used a spell like that, not even on Malfoy, but you

can't blame the Prince, he hadn't written 'try this out, it's really good'

— he was just making notes for himself, wasn't he, not for anyone

else…"

"Are you telling me," said Hermione, "that you're going to go back

—?"

"And get the book? Yeah, I am," said Harry forcefully. "Listen, without

the Prince I'd never have won the Felix Felicis. I'd never have known

how to save Ron from poisoning, I'd never have —"

"— got a reputation for Potions brilliance you don't deserve," said

Hermione nastily.

"Give it a rest, Hermione!" said Ginny, and Harry was so amazed, so

grateful, he looked up. "By the sound of it, Malfoy was trying to use an

Unforgivable Curse, you should be glad Harry had something good up

his sleeve!"

"Well, of course I'm glad Harry wasn't cursed!" said Hermione, clearly

stung. "But you can't call that Sectumsempra spell good, Ginny, look

where it's landed him! And I'd have thought, seeing what this has done

to your chances in the match —"

"Oh, don't start acting as though you understand Quidditch," snapped

Ginny, "you'll only embarrass yourself."

"I thought you and Ginny got on alright?" said Remus looking confused at

this opposition, however he couldn't fault Ginny as Hermione was taking

the wrong attitude, however he had to admit that the youngest Weasley

sounded rather vindictive herself.

"We do," said Hermione, "we just had a disagreement, about Harry of all

things before this whole thing came up and so I think that influenced

Ginny's opinion and our attitudes in the conversation."

Harry and Ron stared: Hermione and Ginny, who had always got on

together very well, were now sitting with their arms folded, glaring in

opposite directions. Ron looked nervously at Harry, then snatched up a

book at random and hid behind it. Harry, however, little though he

knew he deserved it, felt unbelievably cheerful all of a sudden, even

though none of them spoke again for the rest of the evening.

His lightheartedness was short-lived. There were Slytherin taunts to be

endured next day, not to mention much anger from fellow Gryffindors,

who were most unhappy that their Captain had got himself banned

from the final match of the season. By Saturday morning, whatever he

might have told Hermione, Harry would have gladly exchanged all the

Felix Felicis in the world to be walking down to the Quidditch pitch

with Ron, Ginny, and the others. It was almost unbearable to turn

away from the mass of students streaming out into the sunshine, all of

them wearing rosettes and hats and brandishing banners and scarves,

to descend the stone steps into the dungeons and walk until the distant

sounds of the crowd were quite obliterated, knowing that he would not

be able to hear a word of commentary or a cheer or groan.

"Ah, Potter," said Snape, when Harry had knocked on his door and

entered the unpleasantly familiar office that Snape, despite teaching

floors above now, had not vacated; it was as dimly lit as ever and the

same slimy dead objects were suspended in coloured potions all around

the walls. Ominously, there were many cob-webbed boxes piled on a

table where Harry was clearly supposed to sit; they had an aura of

tedious, hard, and pointless work about them.

"Mr. Filch has been looking for someone to clear out these old files,"

said Snape softly. "They are the records of other Hogwarts wrongdoers

and their punishments. Where the ink has grown faint, or the cards

have suffered damage from mice, we would like you to copy out the

crimes and punishments afresh and, making sure that they are in

alphabetical order, replace them in the boxes. You will not use magic."

"That does sound rather tedious and pointless," admitted Lily, "you would

think that he would be cleaning something."

"Right, Professor," said Harry, with as much contempt as he could put

into the last three syllables.

"I thought you could start," said Snape, a malicious smile on his lips,

"with boxes one thousand and twelve to one thousand and fifty-six. You

will find some familiar names in there, which should add interest to the

task. Here, you see…"

He pulled out a card from one of the topmost boxes with a flourish and

read, "'James Potter and Sirius Black. Apprehended using an illegal

hex upon Bertram Aubrey. Aubreys head twice normal size. Double

detention.'"

Snape sneered. "It must be such a comforting thing that, though they

are gone, a record of their great achievements remains."

"Wow," said Sirius, "we got 44 boxes dedicated to us? That has to be a

record."

"Close to it," admitted Minerva, "however it is not one that you should be

proud of, I doubt it is a record which Harry is proud of."

Harry felt the familiar boiling sensation in the pit of his stomach. Biting

his tongue to prevent himself retaliating, he sat down in front of the

boxes and pulled one toward him.

It was, as Harry had anticipated, useless, boring work, punctuated (as

Snape had clearly planned) with the regular jolt in the stomach that

meant he had just read his father or Sirius's names, usually coupled

together in various petty misdeeds, occasionally accompanied by those

of Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew.

Remus snickered, he liked how he was only occasionally accompanied, he

was just the one who was never caught, but the teachers didn't need to know

that, he was just as bad as the others.

And while he copied out all their various offenses and punishments, he

wondered what was going on outside, where the match would have just

started… Ginny playing Seeker against Cho…

"Wow, old girlfriend vs potential new girlfriend," said James, "that is quite

the showdown."

Harry glanced again and again at the large clock ticking on the wall. It

seemed to be moving half as fast as a regular clock; perhaps Snape had

bewitched it to go extra slowly? He could not have been here for only

half an hour… an hour… an hour and a half… Harry's stomach

started rumbling when the clock showed half past twelve. Snape, who

had not spoken at all since setting Harry his task, finally looked up at

ten past one.

"I think that will do," he said coldly. "Mark the place you have

reached. You will continue at ten o'clock next Saturday."

"Yes, sir."

Harry stuffed a bent card into the box at random and hurried out of

the door before Snape could change his mind, racing back up the stone

steps, straining his ears to hear a sound from the pitch, but all was

quiet… It was over, then…

He hesitated outside the crowded Great Hall, then ran up the marble

staircase; whether Gryffindor had won or lost, the team usually

celebrated or commiserated in their own common room.

"Quid agis?" he said tentatively to the Fat Lady, wondering what he

would find inside.

"Yes," said James, "who won? Please tell me it was Gryffindor!"

Hermione just smiled.

Her expression was unreadable as she replied, "You'll see."

And she swung forward.

A roar of celebration erupted from the hole behind her. Harry gaped as

people began to scream at the sight of him; several hands pulled him

into the room.

"We won!" yelled Ron, bounding into sight and brandishing the silver

Cup at Harry. "We won! Four hundred and fifty to a hundred and

forty! We won!"

"Yes!" cheered James.

"I am glad that their hard work paid off," said Lily.

"Even though he didn't get to play, Harry did do a lot to help with the

preparation in the final days, he worked hard to advise them even when he

couldn't play, he worked a lot with Ginny in the last few days so that she

would be able to fill in for him, so even though he wasn't there he did play

an active role in the victory," said Hermione, proud of what he achieved,

despite of the negativity surrounding him in the last days before the match.

Harry looked around; there was Ginny running toward him; she had a

hard, blazing look in her face as she threw her arms around him. And

without thinking, without planning it, without worrying about the fact

that fifty people were watching, Harry kissed her.

"Woot!" cheered James, "go Harry!"

"Oh yay," said Sirius, however he was rather sarcastic, James and a few

others gave him a look, but he gestured to say that he would explain it at

another time. Considering the emotional nature of the chapter, his concerns

and the inevitable debate could wait until a better moment, it would be

better if they all just moved on and finished the chapter.

After several long moments — or it might have been half an hour — or

possibly several sunlit days — they broke apart. The room had gone

very quiet. Then several people wolf-whistled and there was an

outbreak of nervous giggling. Harry looked over the top of Ginny's

head to see Dean Thomas holding a shattered glass in his hand, and

Romilda Vane looking as though she might throw something. Hermione

was beaming, but Harry's eyes sought Ron. At last he found him, still

clutching the Cup and wearing an expression appropriate to having

been clubbed over the head.

Hermione smiled slightly at that, "well it is Ronald we are talking about,"

she said with a fond smile.

For a fraction of a second they looked at each other, then Ron gave a

tiny jerk of the head that Harry understood to mean, Well — if you

must.

"Well after the Lav-Lav fiasco, I doubt that he can object," said Alice, "at

least one of them has the balls to do what they want about the women in

their life."

The creature in his chest roaring in triumph, he grinned down at Ginny

and gestured wordlessly out of the portrait hole. A long walk in the

grounds seemed indicated, during which — if they had time — they

might discuss the match.

"That is the end of the chapter," announced Albus.

"Thank Merlin," said Frank. The room agreed it was a highly emotional

chapter for many people involved and it was good to have it done and

hopefully have a few moments respite to gather themselves before moving

on again.

AN: Thanks for reading, please review! Cheers!

25. Chapter 25

The Seer Overheard

AN: First things first MERRY CHRISTMAS! I am sorry this has taken so

long, but between Christmas, work, weddings, job-hunting and more

Christmas I have not had all that much time, so it has taken me awhile to

get this done. However I hope you enjoy my christmas present to you all.

As usual thanks a lot for the reviews they have been very encouraging and

have motivated me to keep writing, even when I probably don't have the

time to do it. Also it should now be well established that I don't own

anything you recognise. Merry Christmas everyone, happy reading! Cheers!

PS: See if you can find the Christmas reference :)

"Shall we continue on?" asked Minerva, taking the book. "The Seer

Overheard."

'Oh yay' thought Hermione sarcastically, 'this is going to be a fun chapter,

not emotional at all."

The fact that Harry Potter was going out with Ginny Weasley seemed

to interest a great number of people, most of them girls, yet Harry

found himself newly and happily impervious to gossip over the next few

weeks. After all, it made a very nice change to be talked about because

of something that was making him happier than he could remember

being for a very long time, rather than because he had been involved in

horrific scenes of Dark magic.

"I'm glad he is happy," said Lily with a smile, "I am sure he made a good

choice."

"Well if he makes her happy than of course she is a good choice," said

James, "she also has red hair, so that makes her even better."

Sirius shook his head, perhaps he was too cynical, but he wasn't quite as

enthusiastic about the match as his two friends were.

"Spit it out Padfoot, before it gags you," advised Remus, noticing his

friend's expression, "you don't seem as enthusiastic about the relationship as

Prongs and Lily do."

"Probably because I am not," said Sirius sarcastically.

"Well, go on then" said James, "enlighten us, tell us why you don't think my

son deserves to be happy."

Sirius rolled his eyes at Prongs' attitude, "I think that the opposite is true, I

do think he deserves to be happy, I just don't know if dating Ginny Weasley,

a girl who until this book has been almost non-existant, would make him

happy."

"Why not?" asked Lily, "he seems happy."

"Perhaps, but for how long?" asked Sirius, "perhaps I am just a cynical

bastard..."

"Well you are, but we love you anyway," interrupted Remus.

"Cheers Moony," said Sirius rolling his eyes, "but I have doubts as to

whether a girl, who probably grew up with the image of Harry as a

superhero and pseudo-celebrity has genuine feelings for Harry as a person.

Is she in love with Harry, the emotionally screwed up quidditch player, or

the Boy-who-lived, the rich and famous wizarding superhero? Secondly,

how do we know if her feelings are genuine?"

"She obviously likes him," pointed out Lily, "she is dating him."

"Precisely," said Sirius, rolling his eyes at lily's naivety, he loved the girl

and knew that it was probably a coping mechanism but her endless

optimism and ideal view of the world did grate on him occasionally.

"I don't see how that proves your point," said Lily.

"Let me ask you this," said Sirius, "if one of your childhood fantasy crushes

or a famous celebrity asked you out, would you even think to say no?"

"Like one of the lady bugs, or whatever they are called," said Alice, piping

in.

"The Beatles," corrected Lily.

"So if one of the Beatles asked you out, you would say no?" asked Sirius.

Lily blushed, which gave Sirius the answer, "so you would go out with one

of them, even if you didn't genuinely like them as a person? Since your

blush is enough of an answer to that, then I ask you, how do you know that

Ginny isn't doing the same thing?"

"But Ginny would know a lot more about Harry than any other female, Mie

excluded of course," pointed out Frank logically, "he practically lives with

her family during the summer and they play quidditch together and she has

fought alongside him and knows more of his secrets, for example about his

relationship with Sirius, so while she may see him somewhat still as the

boy-who-lived and a celebrity, it would be a lot less than any other female

Harry could date."

"Still doesn't answer the question of whether or not she genuinely likes

Harry or not," said Sirius with a shrug.

"Just spit it out Padfoot so we can move on," said James rolling his eyes at

his friend.

"Fine," said Sirius, "Ginny has just gotten out of a relationship with another

boy, a friend of Harry as well for that matter, not all that long ago, how do

we know she isn't on the rebound or using Harry to make Dean jealous?"

"Ginny wasn't really in love with Dean," piped in Hermione, "she only

really dated him because she didn't think Harry was interested."

"So you are saying that she dated someone without genuinely liking them?"

said Sirius with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh for crying out loud Black," said Severus getting fed up with, "does it

really matter? They are teenagers, as you so commonly point out most

relationships only last all of a week if they are lucky, just because they are

dating or trying to doesn't mean they have to get married and pop out

children together."

"Seems Lily and I last more than a few weeks," responded James with a

smirk, "after all, some people it seems do marry their high school

sweethearts."

Lily felt like rolling her eyes this time, could those two never resist the

chance to take shots at each other? She let out a sigh, "all I care is that my

son is happy and it is obvious that Ginny makes him happy, so she has my

approval. Now I am sure we have bored the teachers long enough, so why

don't we move on?"

"Yes ma'am!" responded Sirius with a salute, which caused the redhead to

roll her eyes once again.

"You'd think people had better things to gossip about," said Ginny, as

she sat on the common-room floor, leaning against Harry's legs and

reading the Daily Prophet. "Three Dementor attacks in a week, and all

Romilda Vane does is ask me if it's true you've got a Hippogriff

tattooed across your chest."

Ron and Hermione both roared with laughter. Harry ignored them.

"What did you tell her?"

"I told her it's a Hungarian Horntail," said Ginny, turning a page of

the newspaper idly. "Much more macho."

"Thanks," said Harry, grinning. "And what did you tell her Ron's

got?"

"A Pygmy Puff, but I didn't say where."

"See they work well together," said Lily as proof, "if Harry is happy that is

all that matters to me."

Ron scowled as Hermione rolled around laughing.

"Watch it," he said, pointing warningly at Harry and Ginny. "Just

because I've given my permission doesn't mean I can't withdraw it —"

"Your permission", scoffed Ginny. "Since when did you give me

permission to do anything? Anyway, you said yourself you'd rather it

was Harry than Michael or Dean."

"Yeah, I would," said Ron grudgingly. "And just as long as you don't

start snogging each other in public —"

"You filthy hypocrite! What about you and Lavender, thrashing

around like a pair of eels all over the place?" demanded Ginny.

But Ron's tolerance was not to be tested much as they moved into June,

for Harry and Ginny's time together was becoming increasingly

restricted. Ginny's O.W.L.s were approaching and she was therefore

forced to revise for hours into the night. On one such evening, when

Ginny had retired to the library and Harry was sitting beside the

window in the common room, supposedly finishing his Herbology

homework but in reality reliving a particularly happy hour he had

spent down by the lake with Ginny at lunch-time, Hermione dropped

into the seat between him and Ron with an unpleasantly purposeful

look on her face.

"I want to talk to you, Harry."

"What about?" said Harry suspiciously. Only the previous day,

Hermione had told him off for distracting Ginny when she ought to be

working hard for her examinations.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," scolded Regulus.

"Who are you scolding Harry or me?" asked Hermione.

"Mie," replied Regulus using the pun, "probably depends who you did it to,

if you did it to my brother, I would say it is naughty Sirius, but if you did it

to me... well that is a different story."

"Yeah," said Sirius, "she wouldn't do it to you brother."

Regulus smirked at the implication, or rather what he chose the implication

to be.

"I meant that you would have to find someone who could put up with you

long enough for you to even distract them in that manner," smirked Sirius,

always happy to tease his brother, sibling duty of course.

"The so-called Half-Blood Prince."

"Oh, not again," he groaned. "Will you please drop it? "

He had not dared to return to the Room of Requirement to retrieve his

book, and his performance in Potions was suffering accordingly

(though Slughorn, who approved of Ginny, had jocularly attributed

this to Harry being lovesick). But Harry was sure that Snape had not

yet given up hope of laying hands on the Prince's book, and was

determined to leave it where it was while Snape remained on the

lookout.

"How bad was he?" asked Lily.

"He wasn't failing or anything, instead of getting straight outstandings and

being the 'the most remarkable potioneer of his age' he was getting Es and

the occasional O," said Hermione, "notice I wasn't really on his back at the

moment, because he was proving that he could do it by himself as well."

"I'm not dropping it," said Hermione firmly, "until you've heard me

out. Now, I've been trying to find out a bit about who might make a

hobby of inventing Dark spells -"

Severus shuffled indignantly, his spells weren't all dark, it was just that one,

and it wasn't even created for human use originally.

"He didn't make a hobby of it -"

"He, he - who says it's a he?"

"We've been through this," said Harry crossly. "Prince, Hermione,

Prince! "

"Right!" said Hermione, red patches blazing in her cheeks as she pulled

a very old piece of newsprint out of her pocket and slammed it down on

the table in front of Harry. "Look at that! Look at the picture!"

Harry picked up the crumbling piece of paper and stared at the moving

photograph, yellowed with age; Ron leaned over for a look, too. The

picture showed a skinny girl of around fifteen. She was not pretty; she

looked simultaneously cross and sullen, with heavy brows and a long,

pallid face. Underneath the photograph was the caption: Eileen Prince,

Captain of the Hogwarts Gobstones Team.

Severus raised an eyebrow, did Harry just mentally insult his mother?

"So?" said Harry, scanning the short news item to which the picture

belonged; it was a rather dull story about inter-school competitions.

"Her name was Eileen Prince. Prince, Harry."

They looked at each other and Harry realized what Hermione was

trying to say. He burst out laughing.

"No way."

"What?"

"You think she was the Half-Blood…? Oh, come on."

"Well, why not? Harry, there aren't any real princes in the wizarding

world! It's either a nickname, a made-up title somebody's given

themselves, or it could be their actual name, couldn't it? No, listen! If,

say, her father was a wizard whose surname was "Prince", and her

mother was a Muggle, then that would make her a 'half-blood

Prince'!"

Lily quirked an eyebrow, not bad, she thought, Hermione was halfway

there.

"Yeah, very ingenious, Hermione…"

"But it would! Maybe she was proud of being half a Prince!"

"Listen, Hermione, I can tell it's not a girl. I can just tell."

"The truth is that you don't think a girl would have been clever

enough," said Hermione angrily.

"Really?" asked Regulus, "he isn't blind or deaf, so considering how much

time he spends around you, I doubt he could get away with thinking that

was the case/"

"How can I have hung round with you for five years and not think girls

are clever?" said Harry, stung by this. "It's the way he writes. I just

know the Prince was a bloke, I can tell. This girl hasn't got anything to

do with it. Where did you get this, anyway?"

Half a point each, thought Severus, Harry was right that it wasn't a female

who wrote in that book, he had seen Lily's copy the way she formatted

everything was rather different, however he was wrong in thinking that his

mother had nothing to do with it, after all Hermione was actually almost

spot on with most of her theory.

"The library," said Hermione, predictably. "There's a whole collection

of old Prophets up there. Well, I'm going to find out more about Eileen

Prince if I can."

"Enjoy yourself," said Harry irritably.

"I will," said Hermione. "And the first place I'll look," she shot at him,

as she reached the portrait hole, "is records of old Potions awards!"

Harry scowled after her for a moment, then continued his

contemplation of the darkening sky.

"She's just never got over you outperforming her in Potions," said Ron,

returning to his copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi.

"You don't think I'm mad, wanting that book back, do you?"

"Course not," said Ron robustly. "He was a genius, the Prince.

Anyway… without his bezoar tip…" he drew his finger significantly

across his own throat, "I wouldn't be here to discuss it, would I? I

mean, I'm not saying that spell you used on Malfoy was great -"

"Nor am I," said Harry quickly.

"But he healed all right, didn't he? Back on his feet in no time."

"Yeah," said Harry; this was perfectly true, although his conscience

squirmed slightly all the same. "Thanks to Snape…"

"You still got detention with Snape this Saturday?" Ron continued.

"Yeah, and the Saturday after that, and the Saturday after that,'"

sighed Harry. "And he's hinting now that if I don't get all the boxes

done by the end of term, we'll carry on next year."

He was finding these detentions particularly irksome because they cut

into the already limited time he could have been spending with Ginny.

Indeed, he had frequently wondered lately whether Snape did not know

this, for he was keeping Harry later and later every time, while making

pointed asides about Harry having to miss the good weather and the

varied opportunities it offered. Harry was shaken from these bitter

reflections by the appearance at his side of Jimmy Peakes, who was

holding out a scroll of parchment.

"Thanks, Jimmy… hey, it's from Dumbledore!" said Harry excitedly,

unrolling the parchment and scanning it. "He wants me to go to his

office as quick as I can!"

"Why?" asked Remus.

"Perhaps he found another horcrux," guessed Frank.

"Only one way to find out," pointed out Alice, "Read on Professor, before

Lily has an anxiety attack and turns us all into rampaging roosters, except

for Potter of course, he would be a rampaging hen, but never mind..."

They stared at each other.

"Blimey," whispered Ron. "You don't reckon… he hasn't found…?"

"Better go and see, hadn't I?" said Harry, jumping to his feet.

He hurried out of the common room and along the seventh floor as fast

as he could, passing nobody but Peeves, who swooped past in the

opposite direction, throwing bits of chalk at Harry in a routine sort of

way and cackling loudly as he dodged Harry's defensive jinx. Once

Peeves had vanished, there was silence in the corridors; with only

fifteen minutes left until curfew, most people had already returned to

their common rooms. And then Harry heard a scream and a crash. He

stopped in his tracks, listening.

"How - dare - you - aaaaargh!"

The noise was coming from a corridor nearby; Harry sprinted towards

it, his wand at the ready, hurtled round another corner and saw

Professor Trelawney sprawled upon the floor, her head covered in one

of her many shawls, several sherry bottles lying beside her, one broken.

"Well someone should learn not to drink on the job," said Sirius

sarcastically.

"Looking back, I wonder if she was ever sober, it would explain a lot," said

Hermione.

"Professor —"

Harry hurried forwards and helped Professor Trelawney to her feet.

Some of her glittering beads had become entangled with her glasses.

She hiccoughed loudly, patted her hair and pulled herself up on

Harry's helping arm.

"What happened, Professor?"

"You may well ask!" she said shrilly. "I was strolling along, brooding

upon certain Dark portents happen to have glimpsed…"

But Harry was not paying much attention. He had just noticed where

they were standing: there on the right was the tapestry of dancing trolls

and, on the left, that smoothly impenetrable stretch of stone wall that

concealed —

"Professor, were you trying to get into the Room of Requirement?"

"… omens I have been vouchsafed — what?"

She looked suddenly shifty.

"Caught in the act it seems," said James, "who knew teachers could be so

mischievious."

"They made Lupin a teacher so they mustn't have too higher standards on

expected behaviour," pointed out Alice with a teasing grin.

"The Room of Requirement," repeated Harry. "Were you trying to get

in there?"

"I — well — I didn't know students knew about -"

"Not all of them do," said Harry. "But what happened? You

screamed… it sounded as though you were hurt…"

"I — well," said Professor Trelawney, drawing her shawls around her

defensively and staring down at him with her vastly magnified eyes. "I

wished to — ah — deposit certain – um - personal items in the

Room…" And she muttered something about 'nasty accusations'.

"Right," said Harry, glancing down at the sherry bottles. "But you

couldn't get in and hide them?"

"Why couldn't she just banish them?" asked James, "then they wouldn't

need to be hidden."

"At what point did you get the impression that Trelawney actually has

common sense?" asked Sirius.

"Touché."

He found this very odd; the Room had opened for him, after all, when

he had wanted to hide the Half-Blood Prince's book.

"Oh, I got in all right," said Professor Trelawney, glaring at the wall.

"But there was somebody already in there."

"Somebody in —? Who?"demanded Harry. "Who was in there?"

"Who? I have no idea," said Professor Trelawney, looking slightly

taken aback at the urgency in Harry's voice. "I walked into the Room

and I heard a voice, which has never happened before in all my years of

hiding — of using the Room, I mean."

"She is a horrible liar," commented Severus.

"A voice? Saying what? "

"I don't know that it was saying anything," said Professor Trelawney.

"It was… whooping."

"Whooping?"

"Gleefully," she said, nodding.

"Didn't know there was any other kind."

Harry stared at her.

"Was it male or female?"

"I would hazard a guess at male," said Professor Trelawney.

"And it sounded happy?"

"Very happy," said Professor Trelawney sniffily.

"As though it was celebrating?"

"Most definitely."

"And then —?"

"And then I called out, 'Who's there?'"

"You couldn't have found out who it was without asking?" Harry asked

her, slightly frustrated.

"The Inner Eye," said Professor Trelawney with dignity, straightening

her shawls and many strands of glittering beads, "was fixed upon

matters well outside the mundane realms of whooping voices."

"Gee, why not use a spell, lumos can't be that hard," said Regulus

scornfully.

"Right," said Harry hastily; he had heard about Professor Trelawney's

Inner Eye all too often before. "And did the voice say who was there?"

"No, it did not," she said. "Everything went pitch black and the next

thing I knew, I was being hurled headfirst out of the Room!"

"And you didn't see that coming?" said Harry, unable to help himself.

"I am glad that he said that," said Lily, "it was on the tip of my tongue."

"What happened to not disrespecting teachers?" asked Alice.

"Technically to be a teacher you have to actually be able to teach, she can't,

ergo she is not a teacher," explained Lily. No one could fault her logic.

"No, I did not, as I say, it was pitch —" She stopped and glared at him

suspiciously.

"I think you'd better tell Professor Dumbledore," said Harry. "He

ought to know Malfoy's celebrating — I mean, that someone threw you

out of the Room."

To his surprise, Professor Trelawney drew herself up at this suggestion,

looking haughty.

"The Headmaster has intimated that he would prefer fewer visits from

me," she said coldly. "I am not one to press my company upon those

who do not value it. If Dumbledore chooses to ignore the warnings the

cards show —"

Her bony hand closed suddenly around Harry's wrist.

"Again and again, no matter how I lay them out —"

And she pulled a card dramatically from underneath her shawls.

"— the lightning-struck tower," she whispered. "Calamity. Disaster.

Coming nearer all the time…"

Hermione raised her eyebrow, apparently there was some accuracy in her

cards, not that she would admit that aloud.

"Right," said Harry again. "Well… I still think you should tell

Dumbledore about this voice and everything going dark and being

thrown out of the Room…"

"You think so?" Professor Trelawney seemed to consider the matter for

a moment, but Harry could tell that she liked the idea of retelling her

little adventure.

"I'm going to see him right now," said Harry. "I've got a meeting with

him. We could go together."

"Oh, well, in that case," said Professor Trelawney with a smile. She

bent down, scooped up her sherry bottles and dumped them

unceremoniously in a large blue and white vase standing in a nearby

niche.

"I miss having you in my classes, Harry," she said soulfully, as they set

off together. "You were never much of a Seer… but you were a

wonderful Object…"

A few people found this amusing for some reason.

Harry did not reply; he had loathed being the Object of Professor

Trelawney's continual predictions of doom.

"I am afraid," she went on, "that the nag — I'm sorry, the centaur —

knows nothing of cartomancy. I asked him — one Seer to another —

had he not, too, sensed the distant vibrations of coming catastrophe?

But he seemed to find me almost comical. Yes, comical!"

Her voice rose rather hysterically and Harry caught a powerful whiff

of sherry even though the bottles had been left behind.

"Perhaps the horse has heard people say that I have not inherited my

great-great-grandmother's gift. Those rumours have been bandied

about by the jealous for years. You know what I say to such people,

Harry? Would Dumbledore have let me teach at this great school, put

so much trust in me all these years, had I not proved myself to him?"

Harry mumbled something indistinct.

"I well remember my first interview with Dumbledore," went on

Professor Trelawney, in throaty tones. "He was deeply impressed, of

course, deeply impressed… I was staying at the Hog's Head, which I do

not advise, incidentally — bed bugs, dear boy — but funds were low.

Dumbledore did me the courtesy of calling upon me in my room at the

inn. He questioned me… I must confess that, at first, I thought he

seemed ill-disposed towards Divination… and I remember I was

starting to feel a little odd, I had not eaten much that day… but

then…"

And now Harry was paying attention properly for the first time, for he

knew what had happened then: Professor Trelawney had made the

prophecy that had altered the course of his whole life, the prophecy

about him and Voldemort.

"Do we get to find out who overheard?" asked Frank.

Minerva looked down and nodded, seeing the name written clearly in black

and white, she didn't need the 'inner eye' to know that there was about to be

fireworks.

"… but then we were rudely interrupted by Severus Snape!'

"What?"

Hermione surveyed the room, looking at the shocked, angry, very angry and

stunned looks of disbelief, the tension in the room had just soared. On a

positive note, no one had killed anyone yet, however Hermione wondered

how long that would last, as the explosive reactions of the members of the

room boiled over now that they were recovering from their shock.

"Did you just say that Severus Snape was the one responsible for sending a

psychopathic maniac on a mission to murder my best friends?" growled

Remus Lupin in a low voice which was deceptively calm. Hearing Remus'

anger, Hermione flashed back to the incident in the shrieking shack in her

third year when Remus calmly stated that he was going to help Sirius

murder Peter for the betrayal of Lily and James. If Hermione had been

scared of her professor then, he had nothing on this version of Remus who

was a murderously angry werewolf, getting close to the full-moon, with

added emotional turmoil caused by days of life-changing shocks piled one

onto another. If the past was any indication, Hermione guessed that Sirius

would be the next to speak and would explode in anger and try to yell, curse

and hex the betrayer of his friends to infinity and beyond.

Hermione was not really all that satisfied to be proved right, and then some,

not just Sirius had exploded with anger, but nearly all the students in the

room were screaming and cursing Snape, who sat there stoically throughout

it, unable to justify or defend his future actions, even though they had not

yet been committed. However while all hell broke loose in the room around

him, a quiet voice somehow managed to break through all the chaos and

send Severus Snape's world crashing down.

"Why would you do that to us Sev?" pleaded Lily quietly, tears streaking

down her cheeks at her former best friend's betrayal, "did you really hate us

so much?"

Lily's mournful whisper cut Severus to the core there was nothing he could

say in defence. He loved Lily, whether as just a friend or something else he

wasn't sure, but he loved her and to have to live with the knowledge that he

helped kill her was almost too much.

"If that is how you treat your so-called friends, I would hate to see what you

would do to your enemies," snapped James his voice dripping with anger

and hate as he brandished his wand with one hand, trying to hold on to Lily

with the other. Unfortunately for Severus, James wasn't the only one who

had drawn their wand and was pointing it in the direction of Severus.

"That is enough! Lower your wands please" said Dumbledore

authoritatively, taking charge the hard look in his eye showed his anger and

authority, no one would dare challenge that order, no matter how politely

phrased, "we do not know the full circumstances, however I am severely

doubtful that that particular Severus Snape would have passed on the

knowledge if he realised the significance of it, at the time it was delivered I

daresay that the prophecy did not explicitly refer to either the Potters or the

Longbottoms, as neither child was most likely born at that point and neither

Lily, James, Frank or Alice perhaps had even faced Tom three times for it to

apply for them, therefore it is not a personal slight against any person in this

room."

That speech almost made Frank more angry, as he had forgotten in the

ensuing turmoil that the prophecy was about him and Alice as well and was

perhaps one of the reasons why he and Alice were never given the chance

to see their son grow up.

For a reason unknown to anyone, perhaps to take some of the attention

away from his distressed housemate, Regulus decided to chime in with

another lesson in 'megalomaniac psychology 101', otherwise known as 'my

observations as a death eater'. "I agree with the headmaster on that point, I

doubt that this information would have been directly targeted at Evans,

Potter, Longbottom or Smith, that probably came later as they were the only

ones left that fit. I somehow doubt that it would have been crystal clear at

the time who the prophecy referred, so Severus can't be faulted for that,"

Regulus paused this was where his positive thoughts ran out, however

although the next loose thoughts running through his brain weren't all that

bright, however he felt the apparent need to voice them, even if only to

organise them in his brain, "from what I have observed, I also doubt that the

Dark Lord would just sit down on his throne and wait for this person or

challenger to pop up, he would want to eliminate any potential threat early,

remembering the fact that he lacks the usual moral compass, for all we

know he probably killed the families of many of those who were fighting

against him, probably aiming at those who had children or were pregnant,

perhaps the only reason the Dark Lord went after Neville or Harry was

because they were the only two he hadn't been able to eliminate first. That

would probably help explain the extremely low numbers in Hermione's

years at Hogwarts. Perhaps the supreme irony of it all would be if this was

the case and the three times the Potters and Longbottoms defied the Dark

Lord was when said megalomaniac was trying to eliminate his own threats."

"Self fulfilling," said Hermione, thinking about it, she had never thought

about the events of the prophecy that way, "he created his own threat

literally. It is also kind of ironic, considering there was so much talk in my

generation at school about the high percentage of muggle born students,

compared to pure-bloods, however if this was the case, and what Regulus

says definitely has merit, after-all if you are twisted enough to murder one

innocent and defenceless baby, then you are probably twisted enough to kill

a whole population of children, King Herod in the bible was." At the

confused looks of those not from a muggle background Hermione explained

the reference, "Herod was the king of the Jews in the bible when Jesus was

born, I presume you all know who Jesus is, when he found out that the baby

Jesus was the prophesised messiah, thus a threat to him, he ordered all the

male children under two years of age from that region to be killed."

"Nice guy," muttered Remus sarcastically, "however I see the similarities,

but what was your point Hermione?"

"Not so much a point as a random thought," admitted Hermione, "I was just

thinking that because Riddle effectively issued a death warrant for all the

children born to wizarding families around the same years as Harry and I,

which means that the number of muggle-borns in proportion to purebloods

would be higher, something which is contradictory to his so-called 'pure-

blood supremacy' doctrine."

"I can see the irony, however it is still not really helping," said Sirius,

before adding rather darkly, "so the sum of what Reg and Mie have said, is

that instead of Snape being responsible for the death of two people, he is

responsible for the massacre of a generation of children."

Regulus cursed under his breath, not the point he was trying to make and he

definitely doubted it would do anything to help bring his friend out of the

pit of despair, guilt and masochism, which he was currently burying himself

in.

"That is quite enough from everyone," said Albus, "we cannot judge young

Severus for the actions he has not yet committed, especially when we do

not know the full circumstances. For all we know, he did not even willingly

tell Tom what he heard, or my future self obliviated him or took other

evasive action, only to have Tom, who is a skilled legimens take it from his

mind. What is more if Severus is sitting here in this room, Minerva and

Hermione and whoever else worked on this project, must have forgiven him

for this action or believed that he could change, therefore we should respect

that decision, show the same mercy to Severus for what he has not even

done yet. Now, I will hear no more on the matter, so Minerva please read

on."

A stony silence engulf the room and tension was still high, however

Minerva followed her boss' instruction and continued to read.

"What?"

"Yes, there was a commotion outside the door and it flew open, and

there was that rather uncouth barman standing with Snape, who was

waffling about having come the wrong way up the stairs, although I'm

afraid that I myself rather thought he had been apprehended

eavesdropping on my interview with Dumbledore — you see, he himself

was seeking a job at the time, and no doubt hoped to pick up tips! Well,

after that, you know, Dumbledore seemed much more disposed to give

me a job, and I could not help thinking, Harry, that it was because he

appreciated the stark contrast between my own unassuming manners

and quiet talent, compared to the pushing, thrusting young man who

was prepared to listen at keyholes — Harry, dear?"

She looked back over her shoulder, having only just realized that Harry

was no longer with her; he had stopped walking and they were now ten

feet from each other.

"Harry?" she repeated uncertainly.

Perhaps his face was white, to make her look so concerned and

frightened. Harry was standing stock-still as waves of shock crashed

over him, wave after wave, obliterating everything except the

information that had been kept from him for so long… It was Snape

who had overheard the prophecy. It was Snape who had carried the

news of the prophecy to Voldemort. Snape and Peter Pettigrew together

had sent Voldemort hunting after Lily and James and their son…

"No," interrupted Albus taking further evasive action, before any of the

Gryffindor's in the room could once again verbally attack Severus for his

future actions, "while Severus may have contributed, he shared this

knowledge without knowing the results of such an action. He did not ask

Tom to kill anyone, nor did he make him do it, that was the choice of Tom

Riddle and Tom Riddle alone. Understood? I will not have anyone

harassing Severus for what his future self has done."

Nothing else mattered to Harry just now.

"Harry?" said Professor Trelawney again. "Harry — I thought we

were going to see the Headmaster together?"

"You stay here," said Harry through numb lips.

"But, dear… I was going to tell him how I was assaulted in the Room of

—"

"You stay here!" Harry repeated angrily.

She looked alarmed as he ran past her, round the corner into

Dumbledore's corridor, where the lone gargoyle stood sentry. Harry

shouted the password at the gargoyle and ran up the moving spiral

staircase three steps at a time. He did not knock upon Dumbledore's

door, he hammered; and the calm voice answered 'Enter' after Harry

had already flung himself into the room.

Fawkes the phoenix looked round, his bright black eyes gleaming with

reflected gold from the sunset beyond the window. Dumbledore was

standing at the window looking out at the grounds, a long, black

travelling cloak in his arms.

"Well, Harry, I promised that you could come with me."

For a moment or two, Harry did not understand; the conversation with

Trelawney had driven everything else out of his head and his brain

seemed to be moving very slowly.

"Come… with you…?"

"Only if you wish it, of course."

And then Harry remembered why he had been eager to come to

Dumbledore's office in the first place.

"You've found one? You've found a Horcrux?"

Thank Merlin for that, thought Hermione, hoping that Harry and the rest of

the room would latch onto that topic and move on from the rather awkward

and explosive topic of Severus' future actions. However a small part of

Hermione was dreading what was to come as well, because if this is how

they reacted to Severus telling Voldemort about the prophecy, how would

they react to the scene on the astronomy tower? All Hermione knew was

that it would not be pleasant, for anyone.

"I believe so."

Rage and resentment fought shock and excitement: for several

moments, Harry could not speak.

"It is natural to be afraid," said Dumbledore.

"I'm not scared!" said Harry at once, and it was perfectly true; fear

was one emotion he was not feeling at all. "Which Horcrux is it? Where

is it?"

"I am not sure which it is — though I think we can rule out the snake

— but I believe it to be hidden in a cave on the coast many miles from

here, a cave I have been trying to locate for a very long time: the cave

in which Tom Riddle once terrorised two children from his orphanage

on their annual trip; you remember?"

"Yes," said Harry. "How is it protected?"

"I do not know; I have suspicions that may be entirely wrong."

Dumbledore hesitated, then said, "Harry, I promised you that you

could come with me, and I stand by that promise, but it would be very

wrong of me not to warn you that this will be exceedingly dangerous."

"I'm coming," said Harry, almost before Dumbledore had finished

speaking. Boiling with anger at Snape, his desire to do something

desperate and risky had increased tenfold in the last few minutes. This

seemed to show on Harry's face, for Dumbledore moved away from the

window, and looked more closely at Harry, a slight crease between his

silver eyebrows.

"What has happened to you?"

"Nothing," lied Harry promptly.

"What has upset you?"

"I'm not upset."

"Harry, you were never a good Occlumens —"

The word was the spark that ignited Harry's fury.

"Time to bring out the ear muffs," murmured Regulus to Hermione, trying

in vain to ease the tension of the inevitablely ugly and loud confrontation.

"Snape!" he said, very loudly, and Fawkes gave a soft squawk behind

them. "Snape's what's happened! He told Voldemort about the

prophecy, it was him, he listened outside the door, Trelawney told me!"

Dumbledore's expression did not change, but Harry thought his face

whitened under the bloody tinge cast by the setting sun. For a long

moment, Dumbledore said nothing.

"When did you find out about this?" he asked at last.

"Just now!" said Harry, who was refraining from yelling with

enormous difficulty. And then, suddenly, he could not stop himself.

"AND YOU LET HIM TEACH HERE AND HE TOLD

VOLDEMORT TO GO AFTER MY MUM AND DAD!"

Breathing hard as though he were fighting, Harry turned away from

Dumbledore, who still had not moved a muscle, and paced up and

down the study, rubbing his knuckles in his hand and exercising every

last bit of restraint to prevent himself knocking things over. He wanted

to rage and storm at Dumbledore, but he also wanted to go with him to

try and destroy the Horcrux; he wanted to tell him that he was a foolish

old man for trusting Snape, but he was terrified that Dumbledore

would not take him along unless he mastered his anger…

"Harry," said Dumbledore quietly. "Please listen to me."

It was as difficult to stop his relentless pacing as to refrain from

shouting. Harry paused, biting his lip, and looked into Dumbledore's

lined face.

"Professor Snape made a terrible —"

"Don't tell me it was a mistake, sir, he was listening at the door!"

James snorted, his thoughts exactly, he might be able to forgive Snape for

their past, but he doubted he would be able to forgive him for leading to the

death of Lily and himself.

"Please let me finish." Dumbledore waited until Harry had nodded

curtly, then went on. "Professor Snape made a terrible mistake. He was

still in Lord Voldemort's employ on the night he heard the first half of

Professor Trelawney's prophecy. Naturally, he hastened to tell his

master what he had heard, for it concerned his master most deeply. But

he did not know — he had no possible way of knowing — which boy

Voldemort would hunt from then onwards, or that the parents he

would destroy in his murderous quest were people that Professor Snape

knew, that they were your mother and father —"

Harry let out a yell of mirthless laughter.

"He hated my dad like he hated Sirius! Haven't you noticed, Professor,

how the people Snape hates tend to end up dead?"

James muttered something under his breath, however he was cautious

enough not to do it so loud as to allow the professors or even Lily to

understand what he was saying, however it was assumed that whatever was

said was rather negative about a certain Slytherin in the room.

"You have no idea of the remorse Professor Snape felt when he realized

how Lord Voldemort had interpreted the prophecy, Harry. I believe it

to be the greatest regret of his life and the reason that he returned —"

"But he's a very good Occlumens, isn't he, sir?" said Harry, whose

voice was shaking with the effort of keeping it steady. "And isn't

Voldemort convinced that Snape's on his side, even now? Professor…

how can you be sure Snape's on our side?"

"Interesting question," said Sirius, "oh don't look at me like that! I didn't say

or imply anything negative about anyone, I just observed that it was an

interesting question and one that most of us are curious about, even without

the current information."

Hermione acquiesced that Sirius was right, most of the members of the

order, DA and various other individuals involved in the war had wondered

the same thing, even before the upcoming chaos depicted in the book.

Dumbledore did not speak for a moment; he looked as though he was

trying to make up his mind about something. At last he said, "I am

sure. I trust Severus Snape completely."

"How explicit," said Alice dryly, "because that answer would satisfy an

angry teen's curiosity and quest for knowledge."

Harry breathed deeply for a few moments in an effort to steady

himself. It did not work.

"Well, I don't!" he said, as loudly as before. "He's up to something with

Draco Malfoy right now, right under your nose, and you still —"

"We have discussed this, Harry," said Dumbledore, and now he

sounded stern again. "I have told you my views."

"You're leaving the school tonight and I'll bet you haven't even

considered that Snape and Malfoy might decide to —"

Minerva raised an eyebrow, this was the first time she had ever seen or

heard of anyone at Hogwarts, be it student or staff openly question Albus on

his actions and his management of the school, she was intrigued to say the

least and wondered how Mr Potter was going to get away with it.

"To what?" asked Dumbledore, his eyebrows raised. "What is it that

you suspect them of doing, precisely?"

"I… they're up to something!" said Harry and his hands curled into

fists as he said it. "Professor Trelawney was just in the Room of

Requirement, trying to hide her sherry bottles, and she heard Malfoy

whooping, celebrating! He's trying to mend something dangerous in

there and if you ask me he's fixed it at last and you're about to just

walk out of school without —"

"Enough," said Dumbledore. He said it quite calmly, and yet Harry fell

silent at once; he knew that he had finally crossed some invisible line.

"Do you think that I have once left the school unprotected during my

absences this year? I have not. Tonight, when I leave, there will again

be additional protection in place. Please do not suggest that I do not

take the safety of my students seriously, Harry."

Harry was still alive, observed Minerva to herself, quite impressive.

Hermione wasn't sure what she was feeling, obviously given what had

happened the protection given to the school was insufficient, considering it

allowed Fenrir Greyback into a school of all places, a thought which

literally made her sick to the stomach, not to mention how many near

misses occurred that night, she shuddered to think of what could have

happened if they hadn't of taken any Felix Felicis, the only thing she knew

for certain was that it would have been a lot worse and more than just Bill

would have been injured.

"I didn't —" mumbled Harry, a little abashed, but Dumbledore cut

across him.

"I do not wish to discuss the matter any further."

Harry bit back his retort, scared that he had gone too far, that he had

ruined his chance of accompanying Dumbledore, but Dumbledore went

on, "Do you wish to come with me tonight?"

"Yes," said Harry at once.

"Very well, then: listen." Dumbledore drew himself up to his full

height. "I take you with me on one condition: that you obey any

command I might give you at once, and without question."

"Of course."

"Be sure to understand me, Harry. I mean that you must follow even

such orders as 'run', 'hide' or 'go back'. Do I have your word?"

"I - yes, of course."

"If I tell you to hide, you will do so?"

"Yes."

"If I tell you to flee, you will obey?"

"Yes."

"If I tell you to leave me, and save yourself, you will do as I tell you?"

"We have found the catch, ladies and gentlemen," observed Alice, "while

truly admirable, and I am being sincere when I say this as the quality has

probably saved my son on numerous occasions, Harry is a truly selfless

person and i think he would struggle with saving himself at the expense of

other, particularly if the other person is someone he cares about, such as the

headmaster."

"I —"

"Harry?"

They looked at each other for a moment.

"Yes, sir."

"Very good. Then I wish you to go and fetch your Cloak and meet me

in the Entrance Hall in five minutes' time."

Dumbledore turned back to look out of the fiery window; the sun was

now a ruby-red glare along the horizon. Harry walked quickly from the

office and down the spiral staircase. His mind was oddly clear all of a

sudden. He knew what to do.

Ron and Hermione were sitting together in the common room when he

came back. "What does Dumbledore want?" Hermione said at once.

"Harry, are you okay?" she added anxiously.

"I'm fine," said Harry shortly, racing past them. He dashed up the

stairs and into his dormitory, where he flung open his trunk and pulled

out the Marauder's Map and a pair of balled-up socks.

"Interesting combination"

Then he stepped back down the stairs and into the common room,

skidding to a halt where Ron and Hermione sat, looking stunned.

"I haven't got much time," Harry panted, "Dumbledore thinks I'm

getting my Invisibility Cloak. Listen…"

Quickly he told them where he was going, and why. He did not pause

either for Hermione's gasps of horror or for Ron's hasty questions;

they could work out the finer details for themselves later.

"… so you see what this means?" Harry finished at a gallop.

"Dumbledore won't be here tonight, so Malfoy's going to have another

clear shot at whatever he's up to. No, listen to me!" he hissed angrily, as

both Ron and Hermione showed every sign of interrupting. "I know it

was Malfoy celebrating in the Room of Requirement. Here —" He

shoved the Marauder's Map into Hermione's hand. "You've got to

watch him and you've got to watch Snape, too. Use anyone else who you

can rustle up from the DA. Hermione, those contact Galleons will still

work, right? Dumbledore says he's put extra protection in the school,

but if Snape's involved, he'll know what Dumbledore's protection is,

and how to avoid it — but he won't be expecting you lot to be on the

watch, will he?"

"You are going to do it aren't you?" questioned Sirius sharply to Hermione,

"as up till now you haven't been very supportive of Harry's feelings and

suspicions."

"We did," said Hermione, "thank goodness. I know that we hadn't been

supportive, something I am really sorry for, especially since we have seen

things now from Harry's point of view. However there was no way we

wouldn't have done what Harry said."

"Why not?" asked Frank.

"His attitude, when Harry is dead serious, which he was at that moment,

you can tell, he exudes power and authority, just like the headmaster does,

so when he does put on the mantle of leader persay and orders you to do

something, there is no way I would not think to obey. He was exactly the

same when he was leading us in the Department of Mysteries and he proved

himself to be good at it, so why would I question him again?"

"Prongs is much the same," admitted Remus, "he is easy going most of the

time, unless Lily is involved but that is a whole other story, but when he

goes into captain mode, he is something else entirely, leadership suits him

and he commands respect, which is probably one of the reasons why he was

made Head Boy and is able to do a half-decent job at it, despite not being a

prefect."

James actually appeared to be slightly embarrassed by this and flushed

slightly and the muscles which were tense in his shoulders relaxed

infinitesimally.

"Harry —" began Hermione, her eyes huge with fear.

"I haven't got time to argue," said Harry curtly. "Take this as well —"

He thrust the socks into Ron's hands.

"Thanks," said Ron. "Er — why do I need socks?"

"You need what's wrapped in them, it's the Felix Felicis. Share it

between yourselves and Ginny too. Say goodbye to her from me. I'd

better go, Dumbledore's waiting —"

"No!" said Hermione, as Ron unwrapped the tiny little bottle of golden

potion, looking awestruck. "We don't want it, you take it, who knows

what you're going to be facing?"

"I'll be fine, I'll be with Dumbledore," said Harry. "I want to know you

lot are okay… don't look like that, Hermione, I'll see you later…"

Hermione smiled at that, that action defined Harry, looking out for others

before himself even when going out to face countless horrors, she knew that

part of the reason both she and Ron took it, was not because they wanted it

or thought they needed it's help, but because they knew that Harry needed

to focus completely on what was ahead on him, something which both she

and Ron knew he would not be able to do if he was worrying about them

for whatever reason. She knew that potion literally saved their lives that

night and once again she was indebted and eternally thankful for Harry and

his selfless care for them.

And he was off, hurrying back through the portrait hole towards the

Entrance Hall.

Dumbledore was waiting beside the oaken front doors. He turned as

Harry came skidding out on to the topmost stone step, panting hard, a

searing stitch in his side.

"I would like you to wear your Cloak, please," said Dumbledore, and

he waited until Harry had thrown it on before saying, "Very good.

Shall we go?"

Dumbledore set off at once down the stone steps, his own travelling

cloak barely stirring in the still summer air. Harry hurried alongside

him under the Invisibility Cloak, still panting and sweating rather a lot.

"But what will people think when they see you leaving, Professor?"

Harry asked, his mind on Malfoy and Snape.

"That I am off into Hogsmeade for a drink," said Dumbledore lightly.

"I sometimes offer Rosmerta my custom, or else visit the Hog's Head…

or I appear to. It is as good a way as any of disguising one's true

destination."

They made their way down the drive in the gathering twilight. The air

was full of the smells of warm grass, lake water and wood smoke from

Hagrid's cabin. It was difficult to believe that they were heading for

anything dangerous or frightening.

"Professor," said Harry quietly, as the gates at the bottom of the drive

came into view, "will we be Apparating?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "You can Apparate now, I believe?"

"Yes," said Harry, "but I haven't got a licence."

He felt it best to be honest; what if he spoiled everything by turning up

a hundred miles from where he was supposed to go?

"If he is able to apparate a hundred miles I would be impressed,"

commented Minerva.

Hermione almost smiled, Harry apparated more than a hundred miles, five

hundred would be a more accurate estimation, with a side-a-long as well.

"No matter," said Dumbledore, "I can assist you again."

They turned out of the gates into the twilit, deserted lane to

Hogsmeade. Darkness descended fast as they walked and by the time

they reached the High Street night was falling in earnest. Lights

twinkled from windows over shops and as they neared the Three

Broomsticks they heard raucous shouting.

"— and stay out!" shouted Madam Rosmerta, forcibly ejecting a

grubby-looking wizard. "Oh, hello, Albus… you're out late"

"Good evening, Rosmerta, good evening… forgive me, I'm off to the

Hog's Head… no offence, but I feel like a quieter atmosphere

tonight…"

A minute later they turned the corner into the side street where the

Hog's Head's sign creaked a little, though there was no breeze. In

contrast to the Three Broomsticks, the pub appeared to be completely

empty.

"It will not be necessary for us to enter," muttered Dumbledore,

glancing around. "As long as nobody sees us go… now place your hand

upon my arm, Harry. There is no need to grip too hard, I am merely

guiding you. On the count of three — one… two… three…"

Harry turned. At once, there was that horrible sensation that he was

being squeezed through a thick rubber tube; he could not draw breath,

every part of him was being com-pressed almost past endurance and

then, just when he thought he must suffocate, the invisible bands

seemed to burst open, and he was standing in cool darkness, breathing

in lungfuls of fresh, salty air.

"That is the end of the chapter," said Minerva.

"Perhaps we should take our break now," suggested Hermione, "as once we

start the next chapters we probably won't want to stop until we finish."

"Excellent idea," said Albus, "I shall call for some food."

Severus raised an eyebrow, he was not looking forward to this break, no

matter how good a repast the elves would create, he had a feeling that it

would be a rather tension break and not productive for his continued good

health considering the revelations of the last chapter, oh well, perhaps if he

was lucky they would ignore him. He took a chance and glanced up and

saw at least three people still glaring at him. It was going to be a long meal.

AN: Thanks for reading, please review! Cheers!

26. Chapter 26

The Cave

AN: Hello all! Yes I do still exist! Apologies for the length between

updates, however there wasn't much I can do to change the time frame as

circumstances beyond my control like to screw things up (I live in QLD

Australia, which probably explains quite a bit) and I also wanted to try and

do a half-decent job on the chapter, so I figured I would take my time, as it

was a tough and highly emotional chapter to write. I would really like to

thank all those who reviewed and PMed me, I really appreciated the

encouragement and it made me want to update faster and even though I

didn't have much time to respond to most of them I appreciate them none

the less. Now back to the point (as you want to read the story rather than my

rambling) as usual I own nothing which you can recognise. Please enjoy

and happy reading! Cheers!

The break between chapters was tense, however if the general trend of

rising stress levels indicated in the previous book was accurate then it was

most likely needed. The teachers, made the debatably unwise decision to

check that the rest of the school was still standing in their absence, despite

the probability that any fires or incidents would probably originate from

within the room anyway. With the ferocity of glares headed in his direction,

it was lucky the grease in his hair was not flammable, because if it was

there was a strong chance that Severus Snape might have ended up as

kindling. It was fortunate that no major incidents or injuries had broken out,

although that could be chalked up to the fact that Regulus of all people

decided to disarm the most likely offenders in the room, namely James

Potter, his brother, Alice and Severus, after James decided to let his anger

out on an innocently conjured table, covering those opposite him (which

coincidently or not was only Severus and Regulus) in sawdust and other

shrapnel. Although not occurring frequently, Regulus had been caught in

the cross fire between the two rivalling parties enough times to have the

forethought to take preventative action, after all it wasn't a nice place to be.

Hermione backed Regulus in the endeavour, by guarding the wands herself

when everyone raised their opposition about Regulus' sense of self-

preservation, this worked as she was considered to be more of a neutral

party. However Hermione also had a selfish motive, as it meant she

wouldn't have to bother doing it herself when the scene on the astronomy

tower came around, because she didn't need to take divination to know that

the aftermath was not going to be pretty. After what appeared to be an age

in the room, due to the high levels of tension, the teachers reappeared,

which meant that they could resume reading. Which was something they

were all eagerly anticipating, even Hermione, as they were all curious about

what would happen on the adventure to the cave. Even Hermione was

nervous, because while she knew some of the bare bones, she didn't have a

clue about what would happen, only knowing that it was near Brighton,

Dumbledore drank some sort of unhealthy cocktail and that Regulus was

captured and drowned by an army of inferi.

"It is Mr Longbottom's turn to read I believe," said Albus mildly, "perhaps

if he would be so kind..."

"Of course, Sir," said Frank, taking the book and turning to the right page,

"this chapter is called The Cave."

Harry could smell salt and hear rushing waves; a light, chilly breeze

ruffled his hair as he looked out at moon-lit sea and star-strewn sky. He

was standing upon a high outcrop of dark rock, water foaming and

churning below him. He glanced over his shoulder. A towering cliff

stood behind them, a sheer drop, black and faceless. A few large

chunks of rock, such as the one upon which Harry and Dumbledore

were standing, looked as though they had broken away from the cliff

face at some point in the past. It was a bleak, harsh view, the sea and

the rock unrelieved by any tree or sweep of grass or sand.

"What do you think?" asked Dumbledore. He might have been asking

Harry's opinion on whether it was a good site for a picnic.

"They brought the kids from the orphanage here?" asked Harry, who

could not imagine a less cozy spot for a day trip.

"Not here, precisely," said Dumbledore. "There is a village of sorts

about halfway along the cliffs behind us. I believe the orphans were

taken there for a little sea air and a view of the waves. No, I think it was

only ever Tom Riddle and his youthful victims who visited this spot. No

Muggle could reach this rock unless they were uncommonly good

mountaineers, and boats cannot approach the cliffs, the waters around

them are too dangerous. I imagine that Riddle climbed down; magic

would have served better than ropes. And he brought two small

children with him, probably for the pleasure of terrorizing them. I

think the journey alone would have done it, don't you?"

"If it is as bad as it sounds most likely," agreed James.

Harry looked up at the cliff again and felt goose bumps.

"But his final destination — and ours — lies a little farther on. Come."

Dumbledore beckoned Harry to the very edge of the rock where a

series of jagged niches made footholds leading down to boulders that

lay half-submerged in water and closer to the cliff. It was a treacherous

descent and Dumbledore, hampered slightly by his withered hand,

moved slowly. The lower rocks were slippery with seawater. Harry

could feel flecks of cold salt spray hitting his face. "Lumos," said

Dumbledore, as he reached the boulder closest to the cliff face. A

thousand flecks of golden light sparkled upon the dark surface of the

water a few feet below where he crouched; the black wall of rock beside

him was illuminated too. "You see?" said Dumbledore quietly, holding

his wand a little higher. Harry saw a fissure in the cliff into which dark

water was swirling. "You will not object to getting a little wet?"

"Harry can swim, yes?" double checked Lily, "I mean Tuney won't win aunt

of the year awards, but she did make sure he could swim didn't she?"

"He swam during the tournament Lils," pointed out James, "he'll be fine."

Hermione nodded in agreement, "Harry would have learnt at primary

school, besides while not the most refined swimmer, his technique is horrid

actually, he is capable and fairly fast, not to mention fit from quidditch, so

he will be fine." However Hermione held back her desire to add 'for the

moment.'

"No," said Harry.

"Then take off your Invisibility Cloak — there is no need for it now —

and let us take the plunge,"

And with the sudden agility of a much younger man, Dumbledore slid

from the boulder, landed in the sea, and began to swim, with a perfect

breaststroke, toward the dark slit in the rock face, his lit wand held in

his teeth.

"Interesting mental image Professor," commented Alice with a grin.

Harry pulled off his cloak, stuffed it into his pocket, and followed.

The water was icy; Harry's waterlogged clothes billowed around him

and weighed him down. Taking deep breaths that filled his nostrils with

the tang of salt and seaweed, he struck out for the shimmering,

shrinking light now moving deeper into the cliff. The fissure soon

opened into a dark tunnel that Harry could tell would be filled with

water at high tide. The slimy walls were barely three feet apart and

glimmered like wet tar in the passing light of Dumbledore's wand.

"Okay," said Lily with a slightly disgusted look on her face, "I don't even

want to think about what could be in that water, I doubt it is sanitary to say

the least though."

A little way in, the passageway curved to the left, and Harry saw that it

extended far into the cliff. He continued to swim in Dumbledore's

wake, the tips of his benumbed fingers brushing the rough, wet rock.

Then he saw Dumbledore rising out of the water ahead, his silver hair

and dark robes gleaming. When Harry reached the spot he found steps

that led into a large cave. He clambered up them, water streaming from

his soaking clothes, and emerged, shivering uncontrollably, into the still

and freezing air.

"Please tell me he doesn't end up with pneumonia or something as a result

of this," begged Lily.

Hermione thought Lily was being overly optimistic if she thought the worst

outcome of this particular trip was pneumonia.

Dumbledore was standing in the middle of the cave, his wand held high

as he turned slowly on the spot, examining the walls and ceiling.

"Yes, this is the place," said Dumbledore.

"How can you tell?" Harry spoke in a whisper.

"It has known magic," said Dumbledore simply.

Harry could not tell whether the shivers he was experiencing were due

to his spine-deep coldness or to the same awareness of enchantments.

"Perhaps both?"

"Perhaps a drying and warming charm would be suitable," suggested

Minerva, sending her colleague a pointed stare, which stated that she

thought Albus was remiss in his actions in neglecting to take the time to

cast a simple spell to help ensure the comfort of the young Gryffindor.

He watched as Dumbledore continued to revolve on the spot, evidently

concentrating on things Harry could not see.

"This is merely the antechamber, the entrance hall," said Dumbledore

after a moment or two. "We need to penetrate the inner place… Now it

is Lord Voldemort's obstacles that stand in our way, rather than those

nature made…"

Dumbledore approached the wall of the cave and caressed it with his

blackened fingertips, murmuring words in a strange tongue that Harry

did not understand. Twice Dumbledore walked right around the cave,

touching as much of the rough rock as he could, occasionally pausing,

running his fingers backward and forward over a particular spot, until

finally he stopped, his hand pressed flat against the wall.

"Here," he said. "We go on through here. The entrance is concealed."

Harry did not ask how Dumbledore knew. He had never seen a wizard

work things out like this, simply by looking and touching; but Harry

had long since learned that bangs and smoke were more often the

marks of ineptitude than expertise.

"Unless you are pranking someone," pointed out Sirius with a grin, trying to

lighten the mood.

Dumbledore stepped back from the cave wall and pointed his wand at

the rock. For a moment, an arched outline appeared there, blazing

white as though there was a powerful light behind the crack.

"You've d-done it!" said Harry through chattering teeth, but before the

words had left his lips the outline had gone, leaving the rock as bare

and solid as ever. Dumbledore looked around.

"Speak friend and enter," murmured Hermione, for some odd reason her

mind jumped to the riddle and stone entry way in the Lord of the Rings

series. This strange tangent got her some odd looks from most of the room,

even those who knew the whereabouts of the quote. "Sorry, my mind

wandered off on a tangent, read on." After all Voldemort did not strike

Hermione as the type to either draw inspiration from the muggle world or

muggle literature, or to use such a loving word as 'friend' as a password, it

didn't really fit in with the style of evil megalomaniac with antisocial

tendencies.

"Harry, I'm so sorry, I forgot," he said; he now pointed his wand at

Harry and at once, Harry's clothes were as warm and dry as if they

had been hanging in front of a blazing fire.

Minerva sent Albus another look saying 'why didn't you do that earlier?'.

"Thank you," said Harry gratefully, but Dumbledore had already

turned his attention back to the solid cave wall. He did not try any

more magic, but simply stood there staring at it intently, as though

something extremely interesting was written on it. Harry stayed quite

still; he did not want to break Dumbledores concentration. Then, after

two solid minutes, Dumbledore said quietly, "Oh, surely not. So

crude."

"What is it, Professor?"

"I rather think," said Dumbledore, putting his uninjured hand inside

his robes and drawing out a short silver knife of the kind Harry used to

chop potion ingredients, "that we are required to make payment to

pass."

"Payment?" said Harry. "You've got to give the door something?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "Blood, if I am not much mistaken."

"Blood?"

"I believe that explains my comment about how crudeness," said Albus, "I

admit, whilst understanding the logic behind it, physically weakening the

person trying to gain entrance, it is rather cruder than what I would usually

expect from Tom, I expected he would be much more subtle about

achieving that particular end."

"I said it was crude," said Dumbledore, who sounded disdainful, even

disappointed, as though Voldemort had fallen short of higher standards

Dumbledore expected. "The idea, as I am sure you will have gathered,

is that your enemy must weaken him — or herself to enter. Once again,

Lord Voldemort fails to grasp that there are much more terrible things

than physical injury."

"Yeah, but still, if you can avoid it…" said Harry, who had experienced

enough pain not to be keen for more.

"Sometimes, however, it is unavoidable," said Dumbledore, shaking

back the sleeve of his robes and exposing the forearm of his injured

hand.

"Professor!" protested Harry, hurrying forward as Dumbledore raised

his knife. "I'll do it, I'm -" He did not know what he was going to say

— younger, fitter?

"Very true, I'll admit," said Albus, "however I would rather my students

didn't face injury when I can do something to prevent it."

But Dumbledore merely smiled. There was a flash of silver, and a spurt

of scarlet; the rock face was peppered with dark, glistening drops.

"You are very kind, Harry," said Dumbledore, now passing the tip of

his wand over the deep cut he had made in his own arm, so that it

healed instantly, just as Snape had healed Malfoy's wound, "But your

blood is worth more than mine. Ah, that seems to have done the trick,

doesn't it?"

"Why is his blood worth more?" asked Frank curiously, interrupting

himself. He looked around he could see pensieve thoughts on several

people's faces as they contemplated his question, however none of them

volunteered an answer at that point, so after a few moment of silence Frank

took it as his cue to keep reading.

The blazing silver outline of an arch had appeared in the wall once

more, and this time it did not fade away: The blood-spattered rock

within it simply vanished, leaving an opening into what seemed total

darkness. "After me, I think," said Dumbledore, and he walked

through the archway with Harry on his heels, lighting his own wand

hastily as he went.

An eerie sight met their eyes: They were standing on the edge of a great

black lake, so vast that Harry could not make out the distant banks, in

a cavern so high that the ceiling too was out of sight. A misty greenish

light shone far away in what looked like the middle of the lake; it was

reflected in the completely still water below. The greenish glow and the

light from the two wands were the only things that broke the otherwise

velvety blackness, though their rays did not penetrate as far as Harry

would have expected. The darkness was somehow denser than normal

darkness.

A few people shivered at the sinister description, Hermione included.

"Come on people," said Sirius, noticing the reaction to the description, "the

bastard is an evil dark lord, what do you expect? For part of his lair to be all

sunshine, rainbows and daisies?"

This comment, whilst sarcastic and most probably inappropriate helped to

put the rest of the room slightly more at ease, except for Hermione, who

knew that beyond the veneer of still water there were true horrors waiting

below, an army of inferi and most probably the decayed and rotten corpse of

the handsome young man sitting next to her. With this knowledge, no

amount of sarcasm or brevity could make her feel more at ease.

"Let us walk," said Dumbledore quietly. "Be very careful not to step

into the water. Stay close to me."

He set off around the edge of the lake, and Harry followed close behind

him. Their footsteps made echoing, slapping sounds on the narrow rim

of rock that surrounded the water. On and on they walked, but the view

did not vary: on one side of them, the rough cavern wall, on the other,

the boundless expanse of smooth, glassy blackness, in the very middle

of which was that mysterious greenish glow. Harry found the place and

the silence oppressive, unnerving.

"Professor?" he said finally. "Do you think the Horcrux is here?"

"Oh yes," said Dumbledore. "Yes, I'm sure it is. The question is, how

do we get to it?"

"We couldn't… we couldn't just try a Summoning Charm?" Harry

said, sure that it was a stupid suggestion. But he was much keener than

he was prepared to admit on getting out of this place as soon as

possible.

"Well it helps to start with the obvious," said Minerva, "while still easy, it

would also help highlight any other traps that lay in wait."

"You think there would be more?" questioned Lily, looking rather scared by

the thought.

"I don't doubt it," said Minerva darkly.

"Certainly we could," said Dumbledore, stopping so suddenly that

Harry almost walked into him. "Why don't you do it?"

"Me? Oh… okay…" Harry had not expected this, but cleared his

throat and said loudly, wand aloft, "Accio Horcrux!"

With a noise like an explosion, something very large and pale erupted

out of the dark water some twenty feet away; before Harry could see

what it was, it had vanished again with a crashing splash that made

great, deep ripples on the mirrored surface. Harry leapt backward in

shock and hit the wall; his heart was still thundering as he turned to

Dumbledore.

"What in the name of Merlin's left sock was that?" asked James.

Hermione personally felt that ignorance would almost be bliss.

"Your son asks the same question," observed Frank.

"What was that?"

"Something, I think, that is ready to respond should we attempt to seize

the Horcrux."

Harry looked back at the water. The surface of the lake was once more

shining black glass: The ripples had vanished unnaturally fast; Harry's

heart, however, was still pounding.

"Did you think that would happen, sir?"

"I thought something would happen if we made an obvious attempt to

get our hands on the Horcrux. That was a very good idea, Harry; much

the simplest way of finding out what we are facing."

"But we don't know what the thing was," said Harry, looking at the

sinisterly smooth water.

"Don't be so sure," said Minerva, "I have no doubt Albus would have a

fairly clear idea by now."

"What the things are, you mean," said Dumbledore. "I doubt very

much that there is only one of them. Shall we walk on?"

"More than one?" asked Lily weakly, "more than one of what?"

"Professor?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Do you think we're going to have to go into the lake?"

"please say no, please say no, please say no," repeated Lily to herself. Until

James calmed her down by giving her a squeeze and a kiss on the forehead.

"Hey," he murmured softly, "don't worry, Harry will be fine, he is with the

headmaster, he won't let anything happen to Harry."

"Into it? Only if we are very unfortunate."

"You don't think the Horcrux is at the bottom?"

"Oh no… I think the Horcrux is in the middle." And Dumbledore

pointed toward the misty green light in the centre of the lake.

"Quick question," said Alice, "it is all well and good that the thing is in the

centre, but how do you actually plan on getting there? Somehow I think

apparition is out of the question, and I am not all the keen on the whole

swimming across a lake infested with Merlin knows what idea, so how in

Merlin's name do you plan on getting there?"

"So we're going to have to cross the lake to get to it?"

"Yes, I think so." Harry did not say anything. His thoughts were all of

water monsters, of giant serpents, of demons, kelpies, and sprites…

"Nothing quite so nice," muttered Hermione, in the unique of position about

worrying what was going to happen next, considering she never really

found out much about this particular incident, all she knew is that it was

bad.

"You know what is in there?" asked James turning to her.

"Unfortunately," snapped Hermione, "ignorance would be bliss."

"No need to go all PMS on me," said James, "I was just asking."

"Forgive me," said Hermione still sounding slightly bitchy, "I am slightly

anxious if you can't already tell, I only know the ending and a couple of

details of the middle, so I am just as on edge about this as you are."

"Now you know how we feel then," said James, venting right back.

"No, I don't," said Hermione snapping back again, she was tense and the

knowledge of what was about to happen was really getting to her, "you

know why? Because I am the one who had to live through it! I am the one

who had to wait hours, days, weeks, months and even years to find out what

was happening, while worrying about my friend, the person who is closer to

me than my brother. You on the other hand, haven't even met Harry yet,

even if he will be your son one day, and you only have to wait a few days to

find out everything, I have been looking for answers and worrying for over

seven years, so excuse me if I get a bit snappy, but I think you have the

better end of the deal!"

"Perhaps I should read on," said Frank after a long and awkward silence

trying to diffuse some of the tension, "that way we can all find out what is

happening."

"Aha," said Dumbledore, and he stopped again; this time, Harry really

did walk into him; for a moment he toppled on the edge of the dark

water, and Dumbledore's uninjured hand closed tightly around his

upper arm, pulling him back. "So sorry, Harry, I should have given

warning. Stand back against the wall, please; I think I have found the

place."

Harry had no idea what Dumbledore meant; this patch of dark bank

was exactly like every other bit as far as he could tell, but Dumbledore

seemed to have detected something special about time he was running

his hand, not over the rocky wall, but through the thin air, as though

expecting to find and grip something invisible.

"Oho," said Dumbledore happily, seconds later. His hand had closed in

midair upon something Harry could not see. Dumbledore moved closer

to the water; Harry watched nervously as the tips of Dumbledore's

buckled shoes found the utmost edge of the rock rim. Keeping his hand

clenched in midair, Dumbledore raised his wand with the other and

tapped his fist with the point.

Immediately a thick coppery green chain appeared out of thin air,

extending from the depths of the water into Dumbledore's clenched

hand. Dumbledore tapped the chain, which began to slide through his

fist like a snake, coiling itself on the ground with a clinking sound that

echoed noisily off the rocky walls, pulling something from the depths of

the black water. Harry gasped as the ghostly prow of a tiny boat broke

the surface, glowing as green as the chain, and floated, with barely a

ripple, toward the place on the bank where Harry and Dumbledore

stood.

"How did you know that was there?" Harry asked in astonishment.

"Magic always leaves traces," said Dumbledore, as the boat hit the

bank with a gentle bump, "sometimes very distinctive traces. I taught

Tom Riddle. I know his style."

"Besides," said Regulus, "he would need a way to access his little toy if he

ever wants to."

"Is… is this boat safe?"

"Oh yes, I think so. Voldemort needed to create a means to cross the

lake without attracting the wrath of those creatures he had placed

within it in case he ever wanted to visit or remove his Horcrux."

"So the things in the water won't do anything to us if we cross in

Voldemort's boat?"

"I think we must resign ourselves to the fact that they will, at some

point, realize we are not Lord Voldemort. Thus far, however, we have

done well. They have allowed us to raise the boat."

"But why have they let us?" asked Harry, who could not shake off the

vision of tentacles rising out of the dark water the moment they were

out of sight of the bank.

"Voldemort would have been reasonably confident that none but a very

great wizard would have been able to find the boat," said Dumbledore.

"I think he would have been prepared to risk what was, to his mind,

the most unlikely possibility that somebody else would find it, knowing

that he had set other obstacles ahead that only he would be able to

penetrate. We shall see whether he was right."

"Comforting thought," said Remus dryly, "so this is just the warm up act."

Harry looked down into the boat. It really was very small. "It doesn't

look like it was built for two people. Will it hold both of us? Will we be

too heavy together?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Voldemort will not have cared about the

weight, but about the amount of magical power that crossed his lake. I

rather think an enchantment will have been placed upon this boat so

that only one wizard at a time will be able to sail in it."

Hermione mentally made a tick in her head, one point to Albus

Dumbledore.

"But then —?"

"I do not think you will count, Harry: You are underage and

unqualified. Voldemort would never have expected a sixteen-year-old to

reach this place: I think it unlikely that your powers will register

compared to mine."

"You expected something like this," accused Minerva, the only person truly

game to call Dumbledore on his actions at times, "that is why you wanted to

take Harry along."

"I knew nothing of the sort," said Albus, "however as my future self

mentioned, I know Tom Riddle and his style and what he values, there is

nothing wrong with having someone there to watch my back without Tom

knowing, and with what we have learnt about Harry, there is no one more

suitable."

These words did nothing to raise Harrys morale; perhaps Dumbledore

knew it, for he added, "Voldemort's mistake, Harry, Voldemort's

mistake… Age is foolish and forgetful when it underestimates youth…

Now, you first this time, and be careful not to touch the water."

Dumbledore stood aside and Harry climbed carefully into the boat.

Dumbledore stepped in too, coiling the chain onto the floor. They were

crammed in together; Harry could not comfortably sit, but crouched,

his knees jutting over the edge of the boat, which began to move at

once. There was no sound other than the silken rustle of the boat's

prow cleaving the water; it moved without their help, as though an

invisible rope was pulling it onward toward the light in the center. Soon

they could no longer see the walls of the cavern; they might have been

at sea except that there were no waves.

Harry looked down and saw the reflected gold of his wandlight

sparkling and glittering on the black water as they passed. The boat

was carving deep ripples upon the glassy surface, grooves in the dark

mirror… And then Harry saw it, marble white, floating inches below

the surface.

"Professor!" he said, and his startled voice echoed loudly over the silent

water.

"Harry?"

"I think I saw a hand in the water — a human hand!"

"Yes, I am sure you did," said Dumbledore calmly.

"Inferi," summed up Regulus, with a look of supreme distaste, "I agree with

Mie, the demons, sprites and kelpies combined would be better. I know this

is uncharitable, but I am glad that it is them not me."

"Well hopefully it will not get to the point where we have to deal with

them," said Albus, however he privately agreed with the younger Black, the

whole notion of inferi was enough to make anyone sick to their stomach, he

did not envy his future self this mission one iota.

"Is he right?" asked Sirius, Hermione nodded, feeling ill, not appreciating

the irony of Regulus' earlier statement, if anything it made her feel even

worse if that was possible.

Harry stared down into the water, looking for the vanished hand, and a

sick feeling rose in his throat.

"So that thing that jumped out of the water —?"

But Harry had his answer before Dumbledore could reply; the

wandlight had slid over a fresh patch of water and showed him, this

time, a dead man lying faceup inches beneath the surface, his open eyes

misted as though with cobwebs, his hair and his robes swirling around

him like smoke.

"That is creepy," said Alice in a slightly high pitched voice, looking rather

freaked out by the whole concept, she wasn't the only one.

"There are bodies in here!" said Harry, and his voice sounded much

higher than usual and most unlike his own.

"Yes," said Dumbledore placidly, "but we do not need to worry about

them at the moment."

"At the moment?" Harry repeated, tearing his gaze from the water to

look at Dumbledore.

"Key phrase apparently," observed Remus dryly.

"Not while they are merely drifting peacefully below us," said

Dumbledore. "There is nothing to be feared from a body, Harry, any

more than there is anything to be feared from the darkness. Lord

Voldemort, who of course secretly fears both, disagrees. But once again

he reveals his own lack of wisdom. It is the unknown we fear when we

look upon death and darkness, nothing more."

"How philosophical," drawled Sirius, "I don't think that would help Harry

deal with the fact that there are inferi literally less than a stone's throw away

though." Despite his attempt to stay calm and detached from the situation,

even Sirius' voice betrayed the fact that the situation described gave him the

creeps... big time.

Harry said nothing; he did not want to argue, but he found the idea

that there were bodies floating around them and beneath them horrible

and, what was more, he did not believe that they were not dangerous.

"But one of them jumped," he said, trying to make his voice as level

and calm as Dumbledore's. "When I tried to Summon the Horcrux, a

body leapt out of the lake."

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "I am sure that once we take the Horcrux, we

shall find them less peaceable. However, like many creatures that dwell

in cold and darkness, they fear light and warmth, which we shall

therefore call to our aid should the need arise. Fire, Harry,"

Dumbledore added with a smile, in response to Harry's bewildered

expression.

"I'm glad that was established, because I would hate for them to attack and

have Harry not know what to do," said James, secretly pleased to be safely

ensconced in the room rather than on the island.

"Oh… right…" said Harry quickly. He turned his head to look at the

greenish glow toward which the boat was still inexorably sailing. He

could not pretend now that he was not scared. The great black lake,

teeming with the dead… It seemed hours and hours ago that he had

met Professor Trelawney, that he had given Ron and Hermione Felix

Felicis… He suddenly wished he had said a better good-bye to them…

and he hadn't seen Ginny at all…

"The goodbye won't matter," said Lily trying to be stoically and foolishly,

optimistic, "because nothing is going to happen to him, or anyone else."

"Tell the inferi that," muttered Severus under his breath.

"Nearly there," said Dumbledore cheerfully.

"What is there to be cheerful about?" asked Remus.

"Well, Mr Lupin, I doubt being serious and showing how worried I am sure

that i am would help Harry's nerves, so optimism would be the better, if

slightly unrealistic, alternative," replied Albus serenely.

Sure enough, the greenish light seemed to be growing larger at last, and

within minutes, the boat had come to a halt, bumping gently into

something that Harry could not see at first, but when he raised his

illuminated wand he saw that they had reached a small island of

smooth rock in the center of the lake.

"Careful not to touch the water," said Dumbledore again as Harry

climbed out of the boat.

"Yeah, I wouldn't want to do that," said Alice looking disgusted, "touching

something that goodness knows how many corpses are in is disgusting, I

wouldn't want to be anywhere near it."

The island was no larger than Dumbledore's office, an expanse of flat

dark stone on which stood nothing but the source of that greenish light,

which looked much brighter when viewed close to. Harry squinted at

it; at first, he thought it was a lamp of some kind, but then he saw that

the light was coming from a stone basin rather like the Pensieve, which

was set on top of a pedestal. Dumbledore approached the basin and

Harry followed. Side by side, they looked down into it. The basin was

full of an emerald liquid emitting that phosphorescent glow.

"What is it?" asked Harry quietly.

"I am not sure," said Dumbledore. "Something more worrisome than

blood and bodies, however."

Dumbledore pushed back the sleeve of his robe over his blackened

hand, and stretched out the tips of his burned fingers toward the

surface of the potion.

"How do you know that the potion isn't poisonous to touch?" asked Remus.

"We don't," said Albus simply, "but there is only one way to find out."

"Sir, no, don't touch —!"

"I cannot touch," said Dumbledore, smiling faintly. "See? I cannot

approach any nearer than this. You try."

Staring, Harry put his hand into the basin and attempted to touch the

potion. He met an invisible barrier that prevented him coming within

an inch of it. No matter how hard he pushed, his fingers encountered

nothing but what seemed to be solid and flexible air.

"So how do you get into the bowl then?"

"Out of the way, please, Harry," said Dumbledore. He raised his wand

and made complicated movements over the surface of the potion,

murmuring soundlessly. Nothing happened, except perhaps that the

potion glowed a little brighter. Harry remained silent while

Dumbledore worked, but after a while Dumbledore withdrew his wand,

and Harry felt it was safe to talk again.

"You think the Horcrux is in there, sir?"

"Oh yes." Dumbledore peered more closely into the basin. Harry saw

his face reflected, upside down, in the smooth surface of the green

potion. "But how to reach it? This potion cannot be penetrated by

hand, Vanished, parted, scooped up, or siphoned away, nor can it be

Transfigured, Charmed, or otherwise made to change its nature."

"So what now then?" asked Alice, "that doesn't seem to leave many more

options."

"It does leave one notable exception," pointed out Regulus, the twisting

feeling in his gut which started when the potion was first mentioned was

getting more pronounced as his initial suspicion was proving to be correct.

After all the Dark Lord, wouldn't put a rather unpleasant potion there unless

it was to be used as a weapon or defence mechanism, and the most common

way of experiencing the side effects of a potion was drinking them.

Almost absentmindedly, Dumbledore raised his wand again, twirled it

once in midair, and then caught the crystal goblet that he had conjured

out of nowhere.

"I can only conclude that this potion is supposed to be drunk."

"What!" said Lily, sitting up straight, "but who knows what the potion could

be... it would be dangerous."

"That I daresay, Ms Evans, is the entire point of having the potion there,"

said Minerva wryly, as she had figured out the same conclusion as well, "I

highly doubt that Tom Riddle, would leave an innocent potion there, it is

after all first and foremost a defence mechanism, most likely protecting an

object which ensures his immorality, it certainly won't be felix felicis that is

for sure."

"What?" said Harry. "No!"

"Yes, I think so: Only by drinking it can I empty the basin and see what

lies in its depths."

"But what if — what if it kills you?"

"Oh, I doubt that it would work like that," said Dumbledore easily.

"Lord Voldemort would not want to kill the person who reached this

island."

"You quite sure about that?" asked Alice in a rather high pitched voice, "he

hasn't really shown himself to be the most moral person thus far, so I doubt

he is going to change the script in this instance."

Harry couldn't believe it. Was this more of Dumbledore's insane

determination to see good in everyone?

"Sir," said Harry, trying to keep his voice reasonable, "sir, this is

Voldemort we're —"

"I'm sorry, Harry; I should have said, he would not want to

immediately kill the person who reached this island,"

"Key word being immediately I guess," said Sirius his voice dripping in

sarcasm, "because after all there is a lake full of inferi ready to do that, so

why waste a perfectly good potion?"

Dumbledore corrected himself. "He would want to keep them alive

long enough to find out how they managed to penetrate so far through

his defences and, most importantly of all, why they were so intent upon

emptying the basin. Do not forget that Lord Voldemort believes that he

alone knows about his Horcruxes."

Harry made to speak again, but this time Dumbledore raised his hand

for silence, frowning slightly at the emerald liquid, evidently thinking

hard.

"Undoubtedly," he said, finally, "this potion must act in a way that will

prevent me taking the Horcrux. It might paralyze me, cause me to

forget what I am here for, create so much pain I am distracted, or

render me incapable in some other way. This being the case, Harry, it

will be your job to make sure I keep drinking, even if you have to tip

the potion into my protesting mouth. You understand?"

"I don't think Harry is going to like this," said James, "and I really don't

envy him, I don't think I could force feed someone something knowing it

would cause them pain, especially someone I care about, like Harry does

with the headmaster."

Their eyes met over the basin, each pale face lit with that strange, green

light. Harry did not speak. Was this why he had been invited along —

so that he could force-feed Dumbledore a potion that might cause him

unendurable pain?

"I doubt that was the specific reason, however knowing Tom's style an extra

pair of hands is always a benefit."

"You remember," said Dumbledore, "the condition on which I brought

you with me?"

Harry hesitated, looking into the blue eyes that had turned green in the

reflected light of the basin.

"But what if —?"

"You swore, did you not, to follow any command I gave you?"

"Yes, but —"

"I warned you, did I not, that there might be danger?"

"Yes," said Harry, "but —"

"Well, then," said Dumbledore, shaking back his sleeves once more and

raising the empty goblet, "you have my orders."

"That doesn't mean he has to like the orders," pointed out Remus.

"Why can't I drink the potion instead?" asked Harry desperately.

"Because I am much older, much cleverer, and much less valuable,"

said Dumbledore.

"And most likely already dying," muttered Severus to himself thinking

about the curse on the headmaster's hand, he knew enough about the dark

arts to know that whatever it was, the curse would be malignant and

probably spread from the already dead hand. Thankfully only Dumbledore

and Regulus heard that deduction, as it was said so quietly that only those

on either side of the Slytherin could understand, even if accidently.

However both of them had suspected that was the case, after all the Blacks

knew even more dark arts then Severus did and Albus had a lot of

experience in that area himself, so Severus' deduction was no surprise and

did not cause any outward reaction which would require the rest of the

room to know their thoughts.

"Once and for all, Harry, do I have your word that you will do all in

your power to make me keep drinking?"

"Couldn't —?"

"Do I have it?"

"But —"

"Your word, Harry."

"I — all right, but —"

Before Harry could make any further protest, Dumbledore lowered the

crystal goblet into the potion. For a split second, Harry hoped that he

would not be able to touch the potion with the goblet, but the crystal

sank into the surface as nothing else had; when the glass was full to the

brim, Dumbledore lifted it to his mouth.

"Your good health, Harry."

And he drained the goblet. Harry watched, terrified, his hands

gripping the rim of the basin so hard that his fingertips were numb.

"Professor?" he said anxiously, as Dumbledore lowered the empty

glass. "How do you feel?"

"Gee, he just drank a gobletful of merlin knows what, which I doubt is

going to be a health drink... how does he think he is feeling?" said Remus

sarcastically.

Lily threw a cushion at him, "he is worried Remus, there is no need to get

all bitchy about it, just let us read... that goes for all of you!" Lily added the

last part with a glare, which didn't quite conceal her anxiety, however it

showed her desire to just get it over with as soon as possible, Lily's belief in

a happy ending, meant she was sure that it would all be alright in the end,

no matter how bad things were at the moment, all they needed to do was

just get through it as soon as possible. The message of read or else, was

heard clearly and the room silenced itself.

Dumbledore shook his head, his eyes closed. Harry wondered whether

he was in pain. Dumbledore plunged the glass blindly back into the

basin, refilled it, and drank once more. In silence, Dumbledore drank

three gobletfuls of the potion. Then, halfway through the fourth goblet,

he staggered and fell forward against the basin. His eyes were still

closed, his breathing heavy.

"Professor Dumbledore?" said Harry, his voice strained. "Can you

hear me?"

Dumbledore did not answer. His face was twitching as though he was

deeply asleep, but dreaming a horrible dream. His grip on the goblet

was slackening; the potion was about to spill from it. Harry reached

forward and grasped the crystal cup, holding it steady.

"Professor, can you hear me?" he repeated loudly, his voice echoing

around the cavern.

Dumbledore panted and then spoke in a voice Harry did not recognize,

for he had never heard Dumbledore frightened like this.

"I don't want… Don't make me…"

Lily let out a quiet whimper at that statement and declaration of weakness,

and grasped James hand in a death grip. James himself was just staring

wide-eyed, the vivid image painted in his mind filled him with fear and

horror, what was in that goblet that would make such a strong man like

Albus Dumbledore stumble and be reduced to a frightened and frail old

man?

Harry stared into the whitened face he knew so well, at the crooked

nose and half-moon spectacles, and did not know what to do.

"… don't like… want to stop…" moaned Dumbledore.

"You… you can't stop, Professor," said Harry. "You've got to keep

drinking, remember? You told me you had to keep drinking. Here…"

Hating himself, repulsed by what he was doing, Harry forced the goblet

back toward Dumbledore's mouth and tipped it, so that Dumbledore

drank the remainder of the potion inside.

Hermione shook her head, she knew how hard this must have been for

Harry, his respect and almost love of the headmaster would make this a

nightmare for Harry, not just seeing someone he thought invincible made

weak, but because he would in his mind be the one making him weak.

"No…" he groaned, as Harry lowered the goblet back into the basin

and refilled it for him. "I don't want to… I don't want to… Let me

go…"

"It's all right, Professor," said Harry, his hand shaking. "Its all right,

I'm here —"

"Make it stop, make it stop," moaned Dumbledore.

"Yes… yes, this'll make it stop," lied Harry. He tipped the contents of

the goblet into Dumbledore's open mouth.

Dumbledore screamed; the noise echoed all around the vast chamber,

across the dead black water.

"No, no, no, no, I can't, I can't, don't make me, I don't want to…"

"It's all right, Professor, it's all right!" said Harry loudly, his hands

shaking so badly he could hardly scoop up the sixth gobletful of potion;

the basin was now half empty. "Nothing's happening to you, you're

safe, it isn't real, I swear it isn't real — take this, now, take this…"

And obediently, Dumbledore drank, as though it was an antidote Harry

offered him, but upon draining the goblet, he sank to his knees, shaking

uncontrollably.

"It's all my fault, all my fault," he sobbed. "Please make it stop, I know

I did wrong, oh please make it stop and I'll never, never again…"

Albus looked around the room, and saw the power that scene had over the

room's emotions, it was clear that they were all shaken by seeing him in

such a weak and childlike situation. Some hid it better than others, Lily had

tears in her eyes and was clutching Mr Potter's hand as though it was the

only thing tying her to this reality. Mr Potter himself, looked like he had

taken a cauldron to the head and was looking around with wide-eyes trying

to make sense of the situation, from his knowledge of the head boy, both as

a student and observed whilst reading, Albus knew that James Potter was a

person who needed an outlet for his emotions, whether something physical

like sport and quidditch or duelling, or else a target to verbally conquer and

vent his emotions on, since the first option would be immediately discarded

in the present location and circumstances, the latter route was becoming

more and more like an inevitable reality, especially if something else worse

happened to push James over the edge, Albus may not be a seer, but he

knew that it would not be pretty. Albus turned his thoughts to Sirius and

Remus, Remus looked like a lost boy at the moment, Albus understood

why, not being arrogant, he knew that Mr Lupin revered him and hero-

worshipped him, because Albus let him come to Hogwarts and be a 'normal'

wizard, and as a result seeing himself in such a weakened state would

confuse Remus and cause many emotions in him, most of which were

displayed prominently on his face. This was a stark contrast to his friend

though, Sirius was wearing what appeared to be a blank face, which Albus

would bet his favourite pair of woollen socks was a way to mask the fact

that he was assessing the situation and coping with it, he wouldn't be

surprised if Mr Black was drawing upon his considerable potions and dark

arts knowledge and was trying to figure out what the potion was or at least

what it was doing at that moment, the calculating look on Severus Snape's

face showed that while shocked at the reaction was trying to figure out the

potion and it's effects based on possible ingredient combinations which

would produce such a unique colour. Indeed Albus himself was guilty of

doing the exact same thing, after all there are only so many potion

ingredients that can possibly react to give such a unique colour, the most

probable being a special type of magic mushroom, which alternatively can

be used to create delusions or heighten memories, knowing this Albus felt

very grave indeed about what his future self was experiencing, even in the

present time (or is it the past mused Albus to himself) he was forcing

himself to organise his mind and reinforce his occulmency in order to

suppress the painful memories which he has kept hidden for so long.

"This will make it stop, Professor," Harry said, his voice cracking as he

tipped the seventh glass of potion into Dumbledore's mouth.

Dumbledore began to cower as though invisible torturers surrounded

him; his flailing hand almost knocked the refilled goblet from Harry's

trembling hands as he moaned, "Don't hurt them, don't hurt them,

please, please, it's my fault, hurt me instead…"

Albus momentarily closed his eyes to control the pain that those words

wrought within him. Hermione, who had been paying rapturous attention to

the book and the headmaster's reaction to it, noticed this action and knew

that no matter his faults in the future or past, no one could deny that Albus

Dumbledore felt remorse for the actions of his teenaged self.

"Here, drink this, drink this, you'll be all right," said Harry

desperately, and once again Dumbledore obeyed him, opening his

mouth even as he kept his eyes tight shut and shook from head to foot.

And now he fell forward, screaming again, hammering his fists upon

the ground, while Harry filled the ninth goblet.

"Please, please, please, no… not that, not that, I'll do anything…"

"Why is..." began Remus, trying to make sense of what was going on.

"I don't think we really need to know what is going on in Professor

Dumbledore's head at the moment Remus," said Hermione quietly. While

part of Hermione still had mixed feelings about the headmaster's role, she

still had enough respect for him and empathy to know that Albus

Dumbledore would not want such a painful memory aired, after all she

would not want her memories of Bellatrix and Fenrir Greyback to be

relived in her head and then discussed by a room of students. That thought

made Hermione's grasp on her emotions and memories slightly thinner, so

she clutched onto Regulus for further support. Regulus responded to

Hermione's plea for support by taking his left hand out of Hermione's

stronghold and replaced it with his right hand and put the newly liberated

limb around Hermione's shoulders to help comfort her, which put them in a

position similar to that held by Lily and James. Hermione took a deep

breath and tried to focus on the arm around her in order to redirect her

thoughts, unfortunately they turned quickly to the fact that the person next

to her, who had proven to be a sweet and caring boy who she sincerely

liked, would soon be facing the same pain and hardship as the headmaster

was going to, this caused tears to escape from the time-travellers eyes and

make tracks down her cheeks.

"Hey, don't cry," whispered Regulus to Hermione noticing her emotional

response to scene, "it will be alright."

"You can't promise that," whispered Hermione back in anguished tones.

"Isn't that why we are here?" asked Regulus, whispering soothingly into her

ear, "We are here to make it all right."

"Just drink, Professor, just drink…"

Dumbledore drank like a child dying of thirst, but when he had

finished, he yelled again as though his insides were on fire. "No more,

please, no more…"

Harry scooped up a tenth gobletful of potion and felt the crystal scrape

the bottom of the basin.

"Thank Merlin for that," let out Alice, breaking the tension in the room

minutely.

"We're nearly there, Professor. Drink this, drink it…"

He supported Dumbledore's shoulders and again, Dumbledore drained

the glass; then Harry was on his feet once more, refilling the goblet as

Dumbledore began to scream in more anguish than ever, "I want to

die! I want to die! Make it stop, make it stop, I want to die!"

"Drink this, Professor. Drink this…"

Dumbledore drank, and no sooner had he finished than he yelled,

"KILL ME!"

The room collectively winced at that, feeling compassion and sadness at the

pain the headmaster, someone they all respected (to varying degress in

anycase), was going through.

"This — this one will!" gasped Harry. "Just drink this… It'll be over…

all over!"

Dumbledore gulped at the goblet, drained every last drop, and then,

with a great, rattling gasp, rolled over onto his face.

"No!" shouted Harry, who had stood to refill the goblet again; instead

he dropped the cup into the basin, flung himself down beside

Dumbledore, and heaved him over onto his back; Dumbledore's glasses

were askew, his mouth agape, his eyes closed. "No." said Harry,

shaking Dumbledore, "no, you're not dead, you said it wasn't poison,

wake up, wake up — Rennervate!" he cried, his wand pointing at

Dumbledore's chest; there was a flash of red light but nothing

happened. "Rennervate — sir — please —" Dumbledore's eyelids

flickered; Harry's heart lept.

"Thank Merlin for that," said Lily breathing out a sigh of relief, "everything

is going to be alright now."

Hermione almost felt offended on Harry's behalf by that comment, she

knew Lily didn't mean anything by it, however it implied that Harry was

incapable to taking care of himself and needed Dumbledore to save him,

despite all the times when Harry had proven himself worthy and saved

himself and others many times over with little to no help. She reminded

herself that it wasn't meant as an insult, however a stirring of anger

manifested itself in her gut, as a new outlet, aside from crying and breaking

the bones of Regulus' hand, began to form.

"Sir, are you —?"

"Water," croaked Dumbledore.

"Water," panted Harry. "Yes —"

He leapt to his feet and seized the goblet he had dropped in the basin;

he barely registered the golden locket lying curled beneath it.

"Aguamenti!" he shouted, jabbing the goblet with his wand.

The goblet filled with clear water; Harry dropped to his knees beside

Dumbledore, raised his head, and brought the glass to his lips — but it

was empty. Dumbledore groaned and began to pant.

"What?"

"Oh crap," muttered Regulus, he had a bad feeling about what was going to

happen next.

"But I had some — wait — Aguamenti!" said Harry again, pointing his

wand at the goblet. Once more, for a second, clear water gleamed

within it, but as he approached Dumbledore's mouth, the water

vanished again.

"Sir, I'm trying, I'm trying!" said Harry desperately, but he did not

think that Dumbledore could hear him; he had rolled onto his side and

was drawing great, rattling breaths that sounded agonizing.

"Aguamenti — Aguamenti — AGUAMENTI!"

The goblet filled and emptied once more. And now Dumbledores

breathing was fading. His brain whirling in panic, Harry knew,

instinctively, the only way left to get water, because Voldemort had

planned it so…

"Oh crap indeed," said Severus, as the implications struck.

"He has to use the water doesn't he?" surmised Remus, "but aren't there

inferi in there?"

"Well done Lupin," said Severus, sarcasm dripping from his tone, "take a

gold star for that brilliant deduction."

"If Harry disturbs the water, will inferi attack?" asked Remus quietly, with a

very, very strong feeling that he wasn't going to like the answer to this

question.

"Most likely," said Minerva grimly.

"Oh crap indeed," said Frank, echoing Severus' phrasing, summing up the

situation rather succinctly.

He flung himself over to the edge of the rock and plunged the goblet

into the lake, bringing it up full to the brim of icy water that did not

vanish.

"Okay off topic," said Alice, using her charming verbal skills to try and

process everything, "but this is really, really gross, the headmaster is going

to have to drink water that has goodness knows how many rotting corpses

living in it. Please tell me it is not just me but that is -eugh- completely

disgusting." Alice shuddered slightly, "I'm sorry, but the whole inferi,

corpse thing, is kind of freaking me out... don't mind me, I might just go

spew up quietly in the corner or something."

"That is probably not what they are thinking about," said Frank, "but I agree

it is rather disgusting and freaky."

"Sir — here!" Harry yelled, and lunging forward, he tipped the water

clumsily over Dumbledore's face.

It was the best he could do, for the icy feeling on his arm not holding

the cup was not the lingering chill of the water. A slimy white hand had

gripped his wrist, and the creature to whom it belonged was pulling

him, slowly, backward across the rock.

Lily let out a horrified gasp, "No!"

The surface of the lake was no longer mirror-smooth; it was churning,

and everywhere Harry looked, white heads and hands were emerging

from the dark water, men and women and children with sunken,

sightless eyes were moving toward the rock: an army of the dead rising

from the black water.

The imagery caused many a shiver and several whimpers in the room,

Hermione was beginning to shake. It seemed more tangible to her than

anything else as it was her Harry that was experiencing these things, her

heart went out to him, as just the imagery was enough to make her want to

curl up into a ball and cry, yet Harry faced all this, survived and then had to

witness the murder of Albus Dumbledore, it was a wonder Harry had yet to

be committed, she was sure that she would be in a mental asylum from the

inferi alone.

"Just do something!" pleaded Lily, tears streaking down her face, rocking

backwards and forwards.

"Petrificus Totalus!" yelled Harry, struggling to cling to the smooth,

soaked surface of the island as he pointed his wand at the Inferius that

had his arm. It released him, falling backward into the water with a

splash; he scrambled to his feet, but many more Inferi were already

climbing onto the rock, their bony hands clawing at its slippery surface,

their blank, frosted eyes upon him, trailing waterlogged rags, sunken

faces leering.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Harry bellowed again, backing away as he swiped

his wand through the air; six or seven of them crumpled,

Severus let out a low whistle in reaction to that feat, he would not admit to

the fact that he was impressed by the result of that spell.

but more were coming toward him. "Impedimenta! Incarcerous!"

A few of them stumbled, one or two of them bound in ropes, but those

climbing onto the rock behind them merely stepped over or on the

fallen bodies. Still slashing at the air with his wand, Harry yelled,

"Sectumsempra! SECTUMSEMPRA!"

"You can do it, you can do it, you can do it," chanted Lily to herself as she

continued to rock backwards and forwards in her seat.

"That won't work," said Severus glumly.

"Oh and like you could do better?" snapped Hermione, standing up for her

friend and brother in all but blood, "how do you think you would react

when faced with, what was it described as? Oh yes, an army from the dead

rising from the water!"

"Yeah, Snape, how would you fair?" sniped James, unable to resist the

chance to siphon off some of his frustration onto someone else.

But though gashes appeared in their sodden rags and their icy skin,

they had no blood to spill: They walked on, unfeeling, their shrunken

hands outstretched toward him, and as he backed away still farther, he

felt arms enclose him from behind, thin, fleshy arms cold as death, and

his feet left the ground as they lifted him and began to carry him,

slowly and surely, back to the water, and he knew there would be no

release, that he would be drowned, and become one more dead

guardian of a fragment of Voldemorts shattered soul…

Hermione shivered slightly at that, both at the fate of the boy, no man,

sitting next to her as well as how close Harry came to sharing it. Hermione

was beginning to understand why Harry did not like to talk about this scene.

"NO!" cried out Lily, "he can't! I won't let him! Someone has to save him,

he can't die!"

"You don't think he is capable of saving himself?" asked Hermione

staunchly.

"That is not what I meant!" said Lily defensively.

But then, through the darkness, fire erupted: crimson and gold, a ring

of fire that surrounded the rock so that the Inferi holding Harry so

tightly stumbled and faltered; they did not dare pass through the

flames to get to the water. They dropped Harry; he hit the ground,

slipped on the rock, and fell, grazing his arms, then scrambled back up,

raising his wand and staring around. Dumbledore was on his feet

again, pale as any of the surrounding Inferi, but taller than any too, the

fire dancing in his eyes; his wand was raised like a torch and from its

tip emanated the flames, like a vast lasso, encircling them all with

warmth. The Inferi bumped into each other, attempting, blindly, to

escape the fire in which they were enclosed…

"Fire! Of course!" said James, "why didn't Harry think of that?"

"I didn't hear you think of that," attacked Hermione, glad to have a target to

ram into, it seemed James was talented at rubbing Hermione the wrong way

today.

"Forgive me for not thinking clearly when suddenly my son is being

attacked by inferi," said James, snapping back defensively.

"Then you should bloody well forgive your son, who by the way was the

one who actually had to face the army of inferi, for not thinking of it

straight away!" retorted an angry Hermione straight away, "do you, or any

of you think you could have done better? I am not ashamed to admit even

now, having fought in a war, which despite living through it most of you

will have no real experience in yet, I would have probably passed out on the

rock or at the very least lost the contents of my stomach, and I doubt I

would be the only one who do that. You should be proud that Harry's first

instinct was not to take the easy route and think of himself, but to fight, and

considering it was one unqualified, under-aged wizard against a whole

freaking army of inferi, not just one or two or even ten, he did pretty darn

good job! If I thought Ronald had the emotional capacity of a teaspoon,

then you James Potter must have the capacity of a bloody toothpick!"

"Well I am sorry that you didn't like what I said, but that is not what I was

bloody well saying!" yelled James, glaring at Hermione, "I was just trying

to show that I am relieved that the headmaster rescued my son, which I am

grateful for! It is not my fault that you were deliberately misconstruing

everything I have said!"

"So you don't think that Harry could have rescued himself?" replied

Hermione heatedly.

"And there she goes again," cut in James.

"Yes here I go again!" snarled Hermione, "you are showing a remarkable

lack of confidence in your son. I have no doubt that Harry would have

remembered the fire by the time he was knee deep in the water and got

himself out of it. It was probably only a matter of seconds between Harry

filling up that goblet with water and him being dragged away by inferi, after

all I doubt he stopped to deliver a soliloquy about the appearance of inferi,

so forgive him for needing a moment and not being perfect, but I know darn

well he would have got there before it was too late and pulled off another

miracle no else would be capable of. You want to know how I know this?

Because he has done it before, over and over again."

"It seems like you over-dosed on your bitchy pills this morning, because

you are putting words in my mouth," retorted James.

"Relax honey," replied Hermione sarcastically, "I haven't taken them today,

not due for another week, so you might want to sleep with one eye open Mr

Potter, or else you will spend several days being attacked by canaries with

diarrhoea."

"Okay children, break it up," said Alice, "or do I have to move you both to

the naughty corner, because some of us would like to finish the chapter and

the book. Hermione you have a point, Harry did darn well and we should be

proud of him, but James also has a point, being that you were taking what

he was saying a bit too far, so now that our eardrums are no longer bursting,

keep it zipped and let us finish, or else I will steal Frankie's wand and

charm your lips shut for you!"

Dumbledore scooped the locket from the bottom of the stone basin and

stowed it inside his robes. Wordlessly, he gestured to Harry to come to

his side. Distracted by the flames, the Inferi seemed unaware that their

quarry was leaving as Dumbledore led Harry back to the boat, the ring

of fire moving with them, around them, the bewildered Inferi

accompanying them to the waters edge, where they slipped gratefully

back into their dark waters. Harry, who was shaking all over, thought

for a moment that Dumbledore might not be able to climb into the

boat; he staggered a little as he attempted it; all his efforts seemed to be

going into maintaining the ring of protective flame around them.

Albus nodded, Harry was very observant and definitely a good choice in

companion, Miss Granger had a point, he doubted any other student, or

even most members of the Order, would have a better job than that which

Harry had done in the book.

Harry seized him and helped him back to his seat. Once they were both

safely jammed inside again, the boat began to move back across the

black water, away from the rock, still encircled by that ring of fire, and

it seemed that the Inferi swarming below them did not dare resurface.

"Sir," panted Harry, "sir, I forgot — about fire — they were coming at

me and I panicked —"

"At least he did something constructive more constructive than throwing up

with his panic," offered Lily, trying to ease the tension between James and

Hermione.

"Quite understandable," murmured Dumbledore. Harry was alarmed

to hear how faint his voice was.

They reached the bank with a little bump and Harry leapt out, then

turned quickly to help Dumbledore. The moment that Dumbledore

reached the bank he let his wand hand fall; the ring of fire vanished,

but the Inferi did not emerge again from the water.

The little boat sank into the water once more; clanking and tinkling, its

chain slithered back into the lake too. Dumbledore gave a great sigh

and leaned against the cavern wall.

"I am weak…" he said.

"Don't worry, sir," said Harry at once, anxious about Dumbledore's

extreme pallor and by his air of exhaustion. "Don't worry, I'll get us

back… Lean on me, sir…"

Harry was indeed a special person if Albus allowed him to see him at his

weakest, mused Minerva to herself.

And pulling Dumbledore's uninjured arm around his shoulders, Harry

guided his headmaster back around the lake, bearing most of his

weight.

"The protection was… after all… well-designed," said Dumbledore

faintly.

"No kidding"

"One alone could not have done it… You did well, very well, Harry…"

"He did indeed," confirmed the Dumbledore in the room, "I am proud of

him, as we should all be."

"Don't talk now," said Harry, fearing how slurred Dumbledore's voice

had become, how much his feet dragged. "Save your energy, sir… We'll

soon be out of here…"

"The archway will have sealed again… My knife…" '

"There's no need, I got cut on the rock," said Harry firmly. "Just tell

me where…"

"Here…"

Harry wiped his grazed forearm upon the stone: Having received its

tribute of blood, the archway reopened instantly. They crossed the

outer cave, and Harry helped Dumbledore back into the icy seawater

that filled the crevice in the cliff.

"It's going to be all right, sir," Harry said over and over again, more

worried by Dumbledore's silence than he had been by his weakened

voice. "We're nearly there… I can Apparate us both back… Don't

worry…"

"I am not worried, Harry," said Dumbledore, his voice a little stronger

despite the freezing water. "I am with you."

And on that final note, Frank passed the book over to Alice for the next

chapter.

AN: Thanks for reading, please review! Cheers!

27. Chapter 27

The Lightening-Struck Tower

AN: Here I am again... what can I say, life is hectic at the moment, however

despite being slightly slower I have not given up and hopefully the next

chapter will come out somewhat quicker. Many thanks to those who have

reviewed it has been a great encouragement for when thing get busy I don't

always have a chance to write. As usual I own nothing which you can

recognise. Happy reading! Cheers!

"I guess it is my turn now," said Alice wearily, the last chapter took a lot out

of her, however she had a feeling that if someone suggested taking a break,

they would end up with a break... in their legs, provided Hermione gave

their wands back of course after they were confiscated in the before the

previous chapter. Alice idly wondered if Hermione being in control of the

majority of the wands in the room was such a good thing, as the last chapter

showed her to be rather stressed and emotional and combining that with

multiple wands and defenceless peers was never a good combination in her

experience. Call her crazy as a quack, but Alice had a sneaking suspicion

that things were about to get worse for Harry and her little Neville, if

nothing else the catastrophic omen which the chapter was named after was

an indication that she was right. " This one is called The Lightning-Struck

Tower."

"Wasn't that the card that Trelawney pulled out before?" queried Frank.

"Think so," said Alice.

"Oh yay, that was the one which means impending doom and the like," said

Remus sarcastically, "how fun."

"Oh yes," said Hermione matching Remus' sarcastic tone, "it was an

absolute blast."

"Well I am sure mocking of Trelawney awaits, so fear not comrades, as we

proceed forth into the unknown, the quicker we venture the quicker it is all

over," said Alice trying to lighten the mood, because if the title was

considered an omen then it wasn't going to be a broom-ride ahead.

Once back under the starry sky, Harry heaved Dumbledore on to the

top of the nearest boulder and then to his feet. Sodden and shivering,

Dumbledore's weight still upon him, Harry concentrated harder than

he had ever done upon his destination: Hogsmeade.

"It will be a miracle if he makes it, considering the distance as well as the

fact it is a side-along," observed Minerva, "however if anyone can do it, it

would be Harry."

Hermione gave a wry smile, "the laws of magic are just another set of rules

which Harry likes to ignore and break. Part of why I love him, he wouldn't

be Harry if he didn't do the unexpected."

Closing his eyes, gripping Dumbledore's arm as tightly as he could, he

stepped forwards into that feeling of horrible compression. He knew it

had worked before he opened his eyes: the smell of salt, the sea breeze

had gone. He and Dumbledore were shivering and dripping in the

middle of the dark High Street in Hogsmeade.

"He did it," said Lily proudly.

For one horrible moment Harry's imagination showed him more Inferi

creeping towards him around the sides of shops, but he blinked and

saw that nothing was stirring; all was still, the darkness complete but

for a few streetlamps and lit upper windows.

"Poor boy," said Minerva shaking her head, "I doubt anyone would be able

to get that experience out of his head, he will probably be seeing inferi

everywhere for quite awhile."

Personally Hermione thought that Harry would prefer to see inferi

everywhere for a few weeks rather than witness the murder/assisted

suicide/death of the headmaster, but then again she had never seen an

inferius so she couldn't really judge.

"We did it, Professor!" Harry whispered with difficulty; he suddenly

realized that he had a searing stitch in his chest. "We did it! We got the

Horcrux!"

"They did, didn't they," said Lily looking up, "they managed to get it, I

knew it would turn out."

"Evans," said Sirius pointedly, "I think it is a bit early to celebrate,

considering the chapter title is the tarot card representing, in Moony's

words, impending doom. So perhaps just hold it in until the end of the

chapter then we can have a party if you feel like it."

"But no matter what happens, they did it, they got a horcrux, so surely that

almost makes it all worth it, so forgive me if I want to be happy and

celebrate that, even if it is short-lived. There is too little happiness in these

books at the moment, so we should take what we can get, after all it is the

small victories which keep spirits up and help us succeed, so we should

treasure them as they come, because otherwise we will just live under a

grey cloud just like you... Eeyore," defended Lily. Hermione cracked a

small smile at the comparison.

"Isn't your stuffed donkey named Eeyore?" clarified Alice. Lily nodded.

"Quite fitting, considering my brother is an ass," said Regulus with a slight

smile, the banter had almost restored some semblance of calmness in the

atmosphere... almost.

Dumbledore staggered against him. For a moment, Harry thought that

his inexpert Apparition had thrown Dumbledore off-balance; then he

saw his face, paler and damper than ever in the distant light of a

streetlamp.

"Sir, are you all right?"

"I've been better," said Dumbledore weakly, though the corners of his

mouth twitched. "That potion… was no health drink…"

"No kidding"

And to Harry's horror, Dumbledore sank on to the ground.

"Sir — it's okay, sir, you're going to be all right, don't worry -"

He looked around desperately for help, but there was nobody to be seen

and all he could think was that he must somehow get Dumbledore

quickly to the hospital wing.

"We need to get you up to the school, sir… Madam Pomfrey…"

"No," said Dumbledore. "It is… Professor Snape whom I need… but I

do not think… I can walk very far just yet…"

"Right — sir, listen — I'm going to knock on a door, find a place you

can stay — then I can run and get Madam —"

"Severus," said Dumbledore clearly. "I need Severus…"

"I doubt Madam Pomfrey, whilst suitable for a castle of students and their

various maladies, would have the same knowledge of the dark arts and

potions, let alone combined, as the future Professor Snape," said Albus.

"All right then, Snape — but I'm going to have to leave you for a

moment so I can —"

Before Harry could make a move, however, he heard running footsteps.

His heart leapt: somebody had seen, somebody knew they needed help

— and looking around he saw Madam Rosmerta scurrying down the

dark street towards them on high-heeled, fluffy slippers, wearing a silk

dressing-gown embroidered with dragons.

"I saw you Apparate as I was pulling my bedroom curtains! Thank

goodness, thank goodness, I couldn't think what to — but what's wrong

with Albus?"

"What has her panties in a twist?" asked James.

She came to a halt, panting, and stared down, wide-eyed, at

Dumbledore.

"He's hurt," said Harry. "Madam Rosmerta, can he come into the

Three Broomsticks while I go up to the school and get help for him?"

"You can't go up there alone! Don't you realize — haven't you seen

—?"

"Seen what?" asked Frank suspiciously.

"Sweet flying sugar-quills," said Alice with wide-eyes, while she skimmed

ahead for the answer, "hold onto your hats, it is about to get interesting."

"Because it has been so dull lately," sneered Severus.

"If you help me support him," said Harry, not listening to her, "I think

we can get him inside —"

"What has happened?" asked Dumbledore. "Rosmerta, what's

wrong?"

"The — the Dark Mark, Albus."

Albus Dumbledore sat at attention hearing that.

"WHAT!" echoed from all corners of the room as everyone tried to

comprehend that piece of information.

"I think this merits more than a 'sweet flying sugar-quills' Al," said Frank

with wide-eyes, "why is there a dark mark over the school?"

"Snape must have had something to with it," said James accusingly.

"Draco is also a possibility," pointed out Remus trying to be rational.

"But he couldn't have done it without help," pointed out James heatedly,

"how would he know that the headmaster wasn't going to be in the school?

Draco wouldn't have a chance at pulling a stunt like that with the

headmaster and I somehow doubt that Professor Dumbledore informs the

entire school when he is planning a night-time stroll through a inferi-

infested cave. A coincidence, I think not!"

"That could prove the opposite though," pointed out Regulus, trying to

defend his housemate, "as we think that Draco's mission is to try and

assassinate the headmaster, so it would be logical to do that while the

headmaster is in the castle, as you pointed out Draco wouldn't be informed

normally if the headmaster left."'

"Either way, this is a serious matter," said Albus conclusively, using his

leadership skills and teacher persona to hide his fear and shock at the scene,

"speculation at this point is useless, it would be best if Miss Smith read on."

Albus knew that no matter what condition his future self was in, seeing the

dark mark over his precious school would not fail to make him come

straight away, he wouldn't be surprised if Tom and as a result the death eater

and Draco knew, for the first time since they started reading Albus began to

feel real fear about the coming situation.

And she pointed into the sky, in the direction of Hogwarts. Dread

flooded Harry at the sound of the words… he turned and looked. There

it was, hanging in the sky above the school: the blazing green skull with

a serpent tongue, the mark Death Eaters left behind whenever they had

entered a building… wherever they had murdered…

"Merlin, who is dead?" said Lily looking worried, turning to Hermione, as

though she would put them out of their misery, however the information

was not forthcoming.

"When did it appear?" asked Dumbledore, and his hand clenched

painfully upon Harry's shoulder as he struggled to his feet.

"Must have been minutes ago, it wasn't there when I put the cat out,

but when I got upstairs —

Albus mentally noted that this was almost perfectly timed to his arrival in

Hogesmeade... interesting coincidence.

"Thank Merlin," said Lily, "that means that there might be a chance to stop

Draco before he kills someone else."

"We don't know that Draco is the killer," pointed out James with an implied

accusation pointed at Severus.

"I agree with Prongs," said Sirius, "Draco is a sixteen year old kid, sure he

is an arrogant snob and a death eater, but that doesn't mean he is a killer."

"They have a point," said Regulus with a sigh, looking apologetically at

Severus, "I don't think Draco is a killer either, however that doesn't

necessarily mean that Severus did it either, for all we know there could be

other death eaters in Hogwarts or it could just be for show, create fear and

what not. There is a big difference between plotting to kill and even

seriously harm someone and actually doing it."

"We need to return to the castle at once," said Dumbledore.

"Rosmerta," and though he staggered a little, he seemed wholly in

command of the situation, "we need transport - brooms -"

"How are you able to recover just like that?" asked James in slight awe.

"Magic," said Albus mysteriously, however he also gave a serious answer,

"I daresay I would be running on adrenaline, how long that will last I do not

know."

"I've got a couple behind the bar," she said, looking very frightened.

"Shall I run and fetch —?"

"No, Harry can do it."

That raised a flag in Hermione's head, as she now knew that Rosmerta was

under the curse, perhaps the headmaster suspected something considering

the timing of the mark and didn't want to let Rosmerta out of his sight

where she could send another message. What other reason could he have for

wanting Harry to fetch the brooms.

Harry raised his wand at once.

"Accio Rosmerta's brooms."

A second later they heard a loud bang as the front door of the pub

burst open; two brooms had shot out into the street and were racing

each other to Harry's side, where they stopped dead, quivering slightly,

at waist height.

"Rosmerta, please send a message to the Ministry," said Dumbledore,

as he mounted the broom nearest him. "It might be that nobody within

Hogwarts has yet realized anything is wrong… Harry, put on your

Invisibility Cloak."

Harry pulled his Cloak out of his pocket and threw it over himself

before mounting his broom; Madam Rosmerta was already tottering

back towards her pub as Harry and Dumbledore kicked off from the

ground and rose up into the air. As they sped towards the castle, Harry

glanced sideways at Dumbledore, ready to grab him should he fall, but

the sight of the Dark Mark seemed to have acted upon Dumbledore like

a stimulant: he was bent low over his broom, his eyes fixed upon the

Mark, his long silver hair and beard flying behind him in the night air.

And Harry, too, looked ahead at the skull, and fear swelled inside him

like a venomous bubble, compressing his lungs, driving all other

discomfort from his mind… How long had they been away? Had Ron,

Hermione and Ginny's luck run out by now? Was it one of them who

had caused the Mark to be set over the school, or was it Neville, or

Luna, or some other member of the DA? And if it was… he was the one

who had told them to patrol the corridors, he had asked them to leave

the safety of their beds… would he be responsible, again, for the death

of a friend?

"No," said Frank strongly, "it was their choice, from what we have heard of

my son, he would never forgive himself if he stayed in bed and let others

fight, he is a true Gryffindor."

"Seems we have a role reversal, it is now your that is in danger and we are

worried about, rather than ours... it is a weird feeling," commented James,

however the cushion he received in his face indicated that at least one

person in the room found his comment to be in ill-taste.

As they flew over the dark, twisting lane down which they had walked

earlier, Harry heard, over the whistling of the night air in his ears,

Dumbledore muttering in some strange language again. He thought he

understood why as he felt his broom shudder for a moment when they

flew over the boundary wall into the grounds: Dumbledore was

undoing the enchantments he himself had set around the castle, so that

they could enter at speed. The Dark Mark was glittering directly above

the Astronomy Tower, the highest of the castle. Did that mean the death

had occurred there? Dumbledore had already crossed the crenulated

ramparts and was dismounting; Harry landed next to him seconds

later and looked around. The ramparts were deserted. The door to the

spiral staircase that led back into the castle was closed. There was no

sign of a struggle, of a fight to the death, of a body.

"That's good, it means there is no-one dead" said Lily letting out a brief sigh

of relief.

"No, what it means is that there is no-one dead there," corrected Sirius, ever

the ray of sunshine.

"It does beg the question though, of why the mark was above the tower if

that isn't where the disaster is," pointed out Frank.

"What does it mean?" Harry asked Dumbledore, looking up at the

green skull with its serpent's tongue glinting evilly above them. "Is it

the real Mark? Has someone definitely been — Professor?"

In the dim green glow from the Mark Harry saw Dumbledore clutching

at his chest with his blackened hand.

Someone gasped.

"Are you alright Professor?" asked Lily looking worried.

"At the present moment I am perfectly fine Miss Evans, if slightly anxious,"

said Albus gaining the slightest bit of amusement from his own answer, "as

to my future self, I daresay that the potion was not designed to create good

health, combined with the reaction to the curse in my hand, I daresay I am

not very well at all."

"I wouldn't be surprised if the potion was specifically designed to react

negatively with the curse from the ring, if that is what is happened, as it

would provide extra insurance against an individual who is trying to hunt

and destroy the horcruxes," mused Regulus.

"That does seem to fit with Tom's usual style," agreed Albus, impressed by

the observation and possibility raised by the young Slytherin, one which he

had not thought of himself, "and it is something we shall have to bear in

mind and be sure to safe-guard against if we go ahead and try and change

the future in our present time-line."

"Go and wake Severus," said Dumbledore faintly but clearly. "Tell him

what has happened and bring him to me. Do nothing else, speak to

nobody else and do not remove your Cloak. I shall wait here."

Hermione privately wondered if Dumbledore was planning on asking

Severus to kill him or heal him, given her knowledge of the future, she

wouldn't be surprised if it was the former. She also wondered whether if

that was the case and the situation played out how the headmaster had

planned it, how that would have impacted on the events of the next year...

would they have been given more information? Would they have known

from the start that Severus Snape was loyal to Albus Dumbledore?

Hermione shook herself, it would do not good to dwell on what could have

been if circumstances had been tweaked.

"But —"

"You swore to obey me, Harry — go!"

Harry hurried over to the door leading to the spiral staircase, but his

hand had only just closed upon the iron ring of the door when he heard

running footsteps on the other side. He looked round at Dumbledore,

who gestured to him to retreat. Harry backed away, drawing his wand

as he did so.

The door burst open and somebody erupted through it and shouted:

"Expelliarmus!"

Harry's body became instantly rigid and immobile, and he felt himself

fall back against the Tower wall, propped like an unsteady statue,

unable to move or speak. He could not understand how it had

happened — Expelliarmus was not a Freezing Charm —

"Ten points to Gryffindor," muttered Severus sarcastically.

Then, by the light of the Mark, he saw Dumbledore's wand flying in an

arc over the edge of the ramparts and understood… Dumbledore had

wordlessly immobilised Harry, and the second he had taken to perform

the spell had cost him the chance of defending himself.

Lily looked at Albus with gratitude in her eyes, glad that someone was

looking out for her son.

"Why would you need to petrify him?" asked Sirius, "Harry would be your

back-up, they can't see him giving him the element of surprise, not to

mention the fact that Harry himself is probably in a better position to defend

the pair at that particular moment than the headmaster is, no offence

intended."

Minerva raised an eyebrow at that, Sirius Black continued to astound her,

having made a remarkable point, she had a feeling that it was because

Albus didn't want Harry to interfere or have his back, which was an

intriguing thought, because as Mr Black so astutely pointed out if either of

the pair on the tower had a chance at fighting their way out, it would have

to be Harry taking the lead... she wondered what Albus had planned,

however whatever it was, it could not be good.

Standing against the ramparts, very white in the face, Dumbledore still

showed no sign of panic or distress. He merely looked across at his

disarmer and said, "Good evening, Draco."

Malfoy stepped forwards, glancing around quickly to check that he and

Dumbledore were alone. His eyes fell upon the second broom.

"Zut!" swore Sirius under his breath in French.

"Why are you cursing in French?" asked Frank curiously.

"Habit," said Sirius with a shrug, "one Reggie and our father share at times

for that matter. Mother doesn't like people cursing, apparently it is

'undignified and such behaviour is not worthy of a member of the most

noble and ancient house of Black'..."

"Direct quote there by the way," injected Regulus.

"So instead of incurring her wrath..."

"Which you purposefully did on a daily basis," injected Regulus once again,

revelling in the chance to be a pain in his brother's arse.

"When Dad taught us languages, he taught us some of the foreign

equivalents to allow ease when venting frustration without incurring the

wrath of Walburga Black, any more than necessary in any case."

"That is quite hypocritical," said Alice dryly, "because from the impression

her portrait gave, it seemed that she had quite the potty mouth herself."

"Remember this is my beloved mother," said Sirius, "Merlin forbid if she

ever held herself to the standards she imposes on others."

"Before we went onto this lovely tangent, I believe the general point was

that Draco seeing the two brooms is bad... very, very bad," concluded Alice,

"so why don't I just move on then, children?"

"Who else is here?"

"A question I might ask you. Or are you acting alone?"

Harry saw Malfoy's pale eyes shift back to Dumbledore in the greenish

glare of the Mark.

"No," he said. "I've got back-up. There are Death Eaters here in your

school tonight."

"WHAT!" shrieked Lily, "in- the – school? Please excuse me while I go

freak out for a moment."

"How?" asked Frank, "as I would assume there would be some ward or

protection against that."

"Well if you want to get technical, there were always death eaters in the

school," pointed out James, "Draco being one, Snape another, and who

knows there might be more students, Crabbe and Goyle could be death

eaters as well."

Regulus shook his head, "nah, not those two, they have nothing to offer

him, they are too stupid to be good sources of information, besides their

loyalty to Draco means they don't even need the 'honour' of a mark to do

whatever the Dark Lord wants. However Potter has a point, in that they are

probably helping, not that they seem to be the fastest brooms in the box."

"Well, well," said Dumbledore, as though Malfoy was showing him an

ambitious homework project. "Very good indeed. You found a way to

let them in, did you?"

"Aren't you taking this a little too well?" asked Minerva pointedly, "there

are death eaters in a school of unsuspecting and innocent children, shouldn't

you be taking a slightly more active approach to the situation?"

"The order, not to mention yourself, Filius and several other capable

professors in the castle I trust you will have the situation in hand," said

Albus, trying to calm his colleague.

"Provided you informed us that there was a threat," said Minerva pointedly,

knowing perfectly well her boss' tendency to keep pertinent information to

himself.

"Yeah," said Malfoy, who was panting. "Right under your nose and you

never realized!"

"Ingenious," said Dumbledore. "Yet… forgive me… where are they

now? You seem unsupported."

"They met some of your guard. They're having a fight down below.

They won't be long… I came on ahead. I - I've got a job to do."

"Never underestimate the Order of the Pheonix," said James, "particularly

when there is a marauder still in it, I am sure Moony is there using chaos to

keep things at bay."

"Well it isn't like I have a job to keep me away, is it?" asked Remus, an

undercurrent of bitterness residing in his tone.

"I think the work you do for the Order would be more important and

beneficial than any job you could find," said Lily encouragingly.

"Well, then, you must get on and do it, my dear boy," said Dumbledore

softly.

"Hold your hippogriffs right there," said James, looking slightly outraged.

"I don't have any hippogriffs to hold, because someone killed them all," said

Alice, staring pointedly at Remus, her tone suddenly changed to one that

was more pleasant, "however I am willing to pause in order for you to share

your mundane comment to the group."

"Why thank you Smith for that interruption," said James sarcastically,

however his outrage seemed to have deflated during the pause, after all

what is a good rant when you get cut off before you can even start. "What I

was going to say was that it appears that Professor Dumbledore actually

wants Malfoy to kill him."

"Or he knows that he won't be able to, after all if he has had a chance and

hasn't taken it," pointed out Remus, "by the way, for the record, Smith, I

didn't kill your hippogriff, it was a flobberworm and you know it and

somehow I don't think Buckbeak or any other hippogriff would appreciate

the comparison."

"I hate to burst your bubble," said Alice.

"I doubt it," muttered Severus to himself.

"However, you seem to be forgetting one thing in that theory about Draco,"

said Alice. She didn't continue and just left it hanging so the room was in

silence for a moment.

"Fine I'll bite," said Severus, "what are we forgetting, Smithers?"

"Why I'm glad you asked, Severus," said Alice with a smirk, "the arrogance

of males."

"What?" said James, "and you say that I am the sexist one!"

"Don't you remember Voldie's great resurrection soliloquy? It seems men

like to flaunt their 'superiority' to their victims, Draco is male and is

probably in the process of doing the same thing," said Alice.

Remus had to concede that Alice had a point under all the insanity, however

he couldn't see Draco as a killer, it was hard to imagine anyone at their age

as capable of cold-blooded murder.

"In a rare moment of insanity, I am going to agree with Smith," said James,

"different reasons of course, however Malfoy has proven himself capable of

murder what with the necklace and the poisoned bottle, it was only luck and

a few milliseconds which stopped them from being fatal, so we shouldn't

underestimate him. After all, as much as I hate to say it, if Malfoy is

capable of an elaborate lure and decoy, then he might have a few other

tricks up his sleeve, slimy slytherin and all."

There was silence. Harry stood imprisoned within his own invisible,

paralysed body, staring at the two of them, his ears straining to hear

sounds of the Death Eaters' distant fight, and in front of him, Draco

Malfoy did nothing but stare at Albus Dumbledore who, incredibly,

smiled.

"Draco, Draco, you are not a killer."

"How do you know?" said Malfoy at once. He seemed to realize how

childish the words had sounded; Harry saw him flush in the Mark's

greenish light. "You don't know what I'm capable of," said Malfoy

more forcefully, "you don't know what I've done!"

"He probably knows more than you realise," intoned Minerva, shooting her

colleague a pointed look, which said that 'why haven't you dealt with this

earlier'.

"Oh, yes, I do," said Dumbledore mildly. "You almost killed Katie Bell

and Ronald Weasley. You have been trying, with increasing

desperation, to kill me all year. Forgive me, Draco, but they have been

feeble attempts… so feeble, to be honest, that I wonder whether your

heart has been really in it…"

"They may have been feeble, but they almost succeeded in killing two of

my friends!" said Hermione angrily, she did not know how the headmaster

could be so blasé about the near murder of Ronald, not to mention Katie

who was also a friend to her, though admittedly not as close Ron or Harry.

"It has been in it!" said Malfoy vehemently. "I've been working on it all

year, and tonight —"

Somewhere in the depths of the castle below Harry heard a muffled

yell. Malfoy stiffened and glanced over his shoulder.

"Somebody is putting up a good fight," said Dumbledore

conversationally. "But you were saying… yes, you have managed to

introduce Death Eaters into my school which, I admit, I thought

impossible… how did you do it?"

"So there are death eaters in the school?" said Lily, starting to look worried

again, "I thought that perhaps if it was just a trap then there might not be

any in the school and it was just Draco."

Minerva sent a pointed glare at her colleague once again, while she would

trust Albus' judgement blindly on most things, standing by while allowing

death eaters to enter a castle of unsuspecting and innocent students was too

much for her to hand. 'We will discuss this later' was the clear message of

the withering stare sent in the headmaster's direction.

But Malfoy said nothing: he was still listening to whatever was

happening below and seemed almost as paralysed as Harry was.

"Perhaps you ought to get on with the job alone," suggested

Dumbledore. "What if your backup has been thwarted by my guard?

As you have perhaps realized, there are members of the Order of the

Phoenix here tonight, too. And after all, you don't really need help… I

have no wand at the moment… I cannot defend myself."

Malfoy merely stared at him.

"Why isn't he waving his wand about like a lunatic?" asked James, "ideally

it would be the perfect opportunity. Seems Remus was right, Professor

Dumbledore, probably does know that Malfoy wouldn't be able to do it."

"I agree, however we probably shouldn't judge and hypothesise, after all,

who knows what he could have been ordered to do," said Sirius, "Voldie

might want witnesses to the actual event, so that he has proof that it

happened and wasn't a stunt that was pulled allowing the headmaster the

ability to run around using death as an alibi."

"I see," said Dumbledore kindly, when Malfoy neither moved nor

spoke. "You are afraid to act until they join you."

"I'm not afraid!" snarled Malfoy, though he still made no move to hurt

Dumbledore. "It's you who should be scared!"

"But why? I don't think you will kill me, Draco. Killing is not nearly as

easy as the innocent believe… so tell me, while we wait for your

friends… how did you smuggle them in here? It seems to have taken

you a long time to work out how to do it."

"I should think so. It should not have been an easy task to achieve"

muttered Minerva, still angry at the thought that Albus almost invited death

eaters to enter the school.

Malfoy looked as though he was fighting down the urge to shout, or to

vomit. He gulped and took several deep breaths, glaring at

Dumbledore, his wand pointing directly at the latter's heart. Then, as

though he could not help himself, he said, "I had to mend that broken

Vanishing Cabinet that no one's used for years. The one Montague got

lost in last year."

"What?" asked Lily, her curiosity and confusion overcoming her nerves at

this point, "how?"

"Aaaah." Dumbledore's sigh was half a groan. He closed his eyes for a

moment. "That was clever… there is a pair, I take it?"

"The other's in Borgin and Burkes," said Malfoy, "and they make a

kind of passage between them. Montague told me that when he was

stuck in the Hogwarts one, he was trapped in limbo but sometimes he

could hear what was going on at school, and sometimes what was going

on in the shop, as if the Cabinet was travelling between them, but he

couldn't make anyone hear him… in the end he managed to Apparate

out, even though he'd never passed his test. He nearly died doing it.

Everyone thought it was a really good story, but I was the only one who

realized what it meant — even Borgin didn't know — I was the one

who realized there could be a way into Hogwarts through the Cabinets

if I fixed the broken one."

"Impressive," conceded Sirius.

"The boy has a brain," said Regulus, duly impressed by the method devised

by his young cousin, seemed spoilt traits and bad hair-dos aside Draco was

able to be cunning and deserve his house title.

"Very good," murmured Dumbledore. "So the Death Eaters were able

to pass from Borgin and Burkes into the school to help you… a clever

plan, a very clever plan… and, as you say, right under my nose…"

"Yeah," said Malfoy who, bizarrely, seemed to draw courage and

comfort from Dumbledore's praise. "Yeah, it was!"

"That is odd," commented Lily.

"Not really," said Frank pensively, "as I doubt he would be getting much

praise from anyone else, Snape would probably be trying to figure out what

he was up to, Lucius is in Az at that point so no encouragement there and

Narcissa seems rather emotional and is probably under a whole lot of stress

and is probably not in the right frame of mind to do the whole 'you can do

it' 'good work' thing, and finally I seriously doubt that Voldie would be the

type to hand out praise and encouragement. Bearing that in mind, with

everything we've seen, what with the stress of the assignment, after all he

was crying in the bathroom, actually being praised and having his work

acknowledged would probably actually be something he needs or desires, it

is just a bit odd for him that it is coming from the guy he is supposedly

going to kill."

"But there were times," Dumbledore went on, "weren't there, when you

were not sure you would succeed in mending the Cabinet? And you

resorted to crude and badly judged measures such as sending me a

cursed necklace that was bound to reach the wrong hands… poisoning

mead there was only the slightest chance I might drink…"

"Yeah, well, you still didn't realize who was behind that stuff, did you?"

sneered Malfoy, as Dumbledore slid a little down the ramparts, the

strength in his legs apparently fading, and Harry struggled fruitlessly,

mutely, against the enchantment binding him.

"As a matter of fact, I did," said Dumbledore. "I was sure it was you."

"Why didn't you stop me, then?" Malfoy demanded.

"I tried, Draco. Professor Snape has been keeping watch over you on

my orders —"

"He hasn't been doing your orders, he promised my mother —-"

"Of course that is what he would tell you, Draco, but —"

"He's a double-agent, you stupid old man, he isn't working for you, you

just think he is!"

"The same could be said about your side as well," pointed out Remus to the

invisible Draco.

"Either way, Severus is very talented at his role so for all we know he could

be on anyone's side," said Regulus.

"Indeed," said Alice, "for all we know ol' Snapey could secretly be siding

with the albino thestral preservation council, politics be damned."

"I daresay that particular scenario is rather unlikely," remarked Frank dryly.

"We must agree to differ on that, Draco. It so happens that I trust

Professor Snape —"

"Then Severus must be on our side," said Lily.

Hermione wondered how long that sentiment would last.

"Well, you're losing your grip, then!" sneered Malfoy. "He's been

offering me plenty of help — wanting all the glory for himself —

wanting a bit of the action — 'What are you doing? Did you do the

necklace, that was stupid, it could have blown everything —' But I

haven't told him what I've been doing in the Room of Requirement,

he's going to wake up tomorrow and it'll all be over and he won't be the

Dark Lord's favourite any more, he'll be nothing compared to me,

nothing!"

"Very gratifying," said Dumbledore mildly. "We all like appreciation

for our own hard work, of course… but you must have had an

accomplice, all the same… someone in Hogsmeade, someone who was

able to slip Katie the - the - aaaah" Dumbledore closed his eyes again

and nodded, as though he was about to fall asleep. "… of course…

Rosmerta. How long has she been under the Imperius Curse?"

"Rosmerta?" asked Frank looking like a stunned salamander, "I never saw

that coming, though now you think about it does fit."

"Got there at last, have you?" Malfoy taunted.

There was another yell from below, rather louder than the last. Malfoy

looked nervously over his shoulder again, then back at Dumbledore,

who went on, "So poor Rosmerta was forced to lurk in her own

bathroom and pass that necklace to any Hogwarts student who entered

the room unaccompanied? And the poisoned mead… well, naturally,

Rosmerta was able to poison it for you before she sent the bottle to

Slughorn, believing that it was to be my Christmas present… yes, very

neat… very neat… poor Mr. Filch would not, of course, think to check

a bottle of Rosmerta's… tell me, how have you been communicating

with Rosmerta? I thought we had all methods of communication in and

out of the school monitored."

"Interesting question," said Remus looking puzzled, "how did he manage

that?"

"Enchanted coins," said Malfoy, as though he was compelled to keep

talking, though his wand hand was shaking badly. "I had one and she

had the other and I could send her messages —"

"WHAT!" screamed Hermione, "that albino ferret stole my idea! The gall of

him, you would think the actions of a mudblood would be inferior to him..."

"I take it you didn't know," observed Remus wryly, taking a great risk in

interrupting a temperamental Hermione mid-rant.

"No," said Hermione, "Harry didn't think to tell me that death eaters were

plagiarising my work. Why? Why would he do that?"

"Who? Harry or Draco?" asked James, who was suppressing a slight

chuckle at Hermione's indignation.

"Harry!"

"Because you have taken the news so well right now," drawled Severus,

"perhaps he enjoyed having functioning eardrums."

This comment earned him a withering stare from Hermione, who decided

that while annoying, Severus could have an exemption from her revenge for

the moment, as she knew things were going to turn bad for him really soon.

"Isn't that the secret method of communication the group that called

themselves Dumbledore's Army used last year?" asked Dumbledore.

His voice was light and conversational, but Harry saw him slip an inch

lower down the wall as he said it.

"Really Albus," said Minerva, "you couldn't have thought to send Harry

down to get someone who could help you, you are going to be no good to

anyone unless you get help."

"Thank you Minerva, however why I am not privy to the workings of my

mind, I am sure that my future self would have made the best decision, so

perhaps we should trust my judgement in the situation and move on," said

Albus politely, indicating that it was time to move on. While he appreciated

the concern his colleague was showing, the headmaster was slightly irked

by the fact that she was chewing him out in public, in front of his students

and future order members.

"Yeah, I got the idea from them," said Malfoy, with a twisted smile. "I

got the idea of poisoning the mead from the Mudblood Granger, as

well, I heard her talking in the library about Filch not recognising

potions…"

"What?" said Hermione in a quiet voice this time, this comment completely

knocked the wind (and indignation) out from her sails, she couldn't believe

that she had helped Draco try and murder someone... she was an accessory

to murder, even if she didn't know it.

"Please do not use that offensive word in front of me," said

Dumbledore.

Malfoy gave a harsh laugh.

"You care about me saying 'Mudblood' when I'm about to kill you?"

"Yes, I do," said Dumbledore, and Harry saw his feet slide a little on

the floor as he struggled to remain upright. "But as for being about to

kill me, Draco, you have had several long minutes now. We are quite

alone. I am more defenceless than you can have dreamed of finding me,

and still you have not acted…"

Malfoy's mouth contorted involuntarily, as though he had tasted

something very bitter.

"Now, about tonight," Dumbledore went on, "I am a little puzzled

about how it happened… you knew that I had left the school? But of

course," he answered his own question, "Rosmerta saw me leaving, she

tipped you off using your ingenious coins, I'm sure…"

"That's right," said Malfoy. "But she said you were just going for a

drink, you'd be back…"

"Well I suppose that is quite true, in a fashion," observed Albus wryly,

"however I believe I am more partial to mead than to mysterious and

destructive potions."

"Dang," said James, "and there goes my idea for a Christmas present."

"Well, I certainly did have a drink… and I came back… after a

fashion," mumbled Dumbledore. "So you decided to spring a trap for

me?"

"We decided to put the Dark Mark over the Tower and get you to

hurry up here, to see who'd been killed," said Malfoy. "And it

worked!"

"Well… yes and no…" said Dumbledore. "But am I to take it, then,

that nobody has been murdered?"

"Someone's dead," said Malfoy and his voice seemed to go up an octave

as he said it.

"That's good, it shows that he is upset by the thought of someone dying,"

observed Frank, "confirming the idea that he is not a killer."

"One of your people…

"Oh dear," said Lily, "who was it? Who died?" however Alice didn't let the

inevitable debate/arguement even start and just continued reading, she could

let Hermione and James get into another screaming match later, right now

she just wanted to get the chapter over with.

I don't know who, it was dark… I stepped over the body… I was

supposed to be waiting up here when you got back, only your Phoenix

lot got in the way…"

"Well mayhem and disruption of death eater plans is part of the job

description, I believe," drawled Sirius.

"Yes, they do that," said Dumbledore.

There was a bang and shouts from below, louder than ever; it sounded

as though people were fighting on the actual spiral staircase that led to

where Dumbledore, Malfoy and Harry stood, and Harry's heart

thundered unheard in his invisible chest… someone was dead… Malfoy

had stepped over the body… but who was it?

"There is little time, one way or another," said Dumbledore. "So let us

discuss your options, Draco."

"His options?" asked James, "I'm sorry did I miss something here?"

"My options!" said Malfoy loudly. "I'm standing here with a wand —

I'm about to kill you —"

"My dear boy, let us have no more pretence about that. If you were

going to kill me, you would have done it when you first disarmed me,

you would not have stopped for this pleasant chat about ways and

means."

"I haven't got any options!" said Malfoy, and he was suddenly as white

as Dumbledore. "I've got to do it! He'll kill me! He'll kill my whole

family!"

"He is definitely Cissy's son," observed Regulus, "Cissa is someone who

values family more than anything in the world. Politics don't really matter

to her all that much, it just happens that the people she considers family

tend to prosper under certain circumstances detrimental to the majority of

the wizarding world. Ciss would do anything and I mean anything, if it

would protect her family or help her family, or at least those she considers

family. Draco seems to have this trait as well, family is his Achilles heel."

"I appreciate the difficulty of your position," said Dumbledore. "Why

else do you think I have not confronted you before now? Because I

knew that you would have been murdered if Lord Voldemort realized

that I suspected you."

Malfoy winced at the sound of the name.

"I did not dare speak to you of the mission with which I knew you had

been entrusted, in case he used Legilimency against you," continued

Dumbledore. "But now at last we can speak plainly to each other… no

harm has been done, you have hurt nobody, though you are very lucky

that your unintentional victims survived… I can help you, Draco."

"No, you can't," said Malfoy, his wand hand shaking very badly indeed.

"Nobody can. He told me to do it or he'll kill me. I've got no choice."

"Hard place for a seventeen year old," mused Lily quietly.

"Harry had been in harder when he was much younger and didn't take the

easy way out," pointed out James.

"Come over to the right side, Draco, and we can hide you more

completely than you can possibly imagine. What is more, I can send

members of the Order to your mother tonight to hide her likewise.

Your father is safe at the moment in Azkaban… when the time comes

we can protect him too… come over to the right side, Draco… you are

not a killer…"

"No he is not," said Albus looking sympathetic to Draco's pain, "he is just a

young boy."

Malfoy stared at Dumbledore.

"But I got this far, didn't I?" he said slowly. "They thought I'd die in

the attempt, but I'm here… and you're in my power… I'm the one with

the wand… you're at my mercy…"

"No, Draco," said Dumbledore quietly. "It is my mercy, and not yours,

that matters now."

"That is a very poignant thought," commented Frank, "very elegant, but it

sums the situation up well and shows that there is more to the fight than just

who has the most power. It highlights, I guess, that there are real people

who are fighting on both sides, which can alter the course of a situation

more than just who is holding all the wands during the confrontation."

Malfoy did not speak. His mouth was open, his wand hand still

trembling. Harry thought he saw it drop by a fraction — But suddenly

footsteps were thundering up the stairs and a second later Malfoy was

buffeted out of the way as four people in black robes burst through the

door on to the ramparts.

Someone let out a profanity.

"There goes Draco's window of opportunity," said Regulus, "with other

death eaters there he will have no choice but to see the task through or

suffer the consequences. Either way both him and the headmaster are

screwed, because there is no way that Professor Dumbledore could take on

four death eaters who want him dead, when he is wandless and in his

current state of health."

Still paralysed, his eyes staring unblinkingly, Harry gazed in terror

upon four strangers: it seemed the Death Eaters had won the fight

below.

Another string of profanities, which caused an outraged cry from Minerva

McGonagall, filled the room.

A lumpy-looking man with an odd lopsided leer gave a wheezy giggle.

"Dumbledore cornered!" he said, and he turned to a stocky little

woman who looked as though she could be his sister and who was

grinning eagerly. "Dumbledore wandless, Dumbledore alone! Well

done, Draco, well done!"

"Good evening, Amycus," said Dumbledore calmly, as though

welcoming the man to a tea party. "And you've brought Alecto too…

charming…"

"Amycus and Alecto Carrrow," spat Hermione, not thrilled with the actions

of the pair during their tenure at Hogwarts, Neville had told enough stories

for her to hate them with the fire of a thousand blazing suns.

"Hang on," said Remus, "Alecto is a girl, did you say that apart from

Bellatrix Lestrange all the death eaters were male."

Regulus nodded, "there are only two exceptions Bella is one, and none of us

knew who the other was, I didn't even know that the Carrows were death

eaters."

"How could you not know?" asked James, "you are one yourself."

"Did you miss the part of the book where Karkaroff explained that you don't

know who all they all are, generally the only people you know the identity

of are the ones you personally know or work with frequently. I don't know

the Carrows at all, apart from reputation, and they are ranked lower."

"There are rankings?" asked Frank, mildly curious as to how the death

eaters were actually organised.

"Not officially," explained Regulus, "however the ones from more elite

families are generally given special roles, rather than just being muscle,

which is probably what the Carrows are. Look at it this way, could you see

someone like Lucius being happily lumped together and treated the same as

Crabbe or willingly being led by the person who shovels the dung at your

local dragon reserve? If you remember the battle in the ministry, the clear

leaders were Lucius and Bella, who come from old pure-blood elite

families, even though someone like Dolohov is probably just as magically

capable."

"I suspected that the death eaters were organised in such a way," mused

Albus, "although it was never confirmed, so that was a very relevant and

most likely very valuable segue." Albus' thoughts went into overdrive, if

Tom left a horcrux in the possession of Lucius Malfoy, if he was to do so

again it would be with another person from an old family who he

considered trusted, such as Bellatrix or one of the Lestrange brothers, and if

family connections were the defining factor then it was not impossible that

Regulus or one of the Blacks would have been entrusted in a similar way,

after all Tom was one of those people who despite being overly-vigilint and

paranoid in most areas could be just as blind and trusting in others with

others... interesting thoughts indeed.

The woman gave an angry little titter.

"Think your little jokes'll help you on your death bed, then?" she

jeered.

"Jokes? No, no, these are manners," replied Dumbledore.

"I don't think she has heard of them," commented Sirius dryly, trying to

lighten the mood. However little did he know that it was about to take an

immediate turn towards the explosive end of the scale.

"Do it," said the stranger standing nearest to Harry, a big, rangy man

with matted grey hair and whiskers, whose black Death Eater's robes

looked uncomfortably tight. He had a voice like none that Harry had

ever heard: a rasping bark of a voice. Harry could smell a powerful

mixture of dirt, sweat and, unmistakeably, of blood coming from him.

His filthy hands had long yellowish nails.

Remus sat up, and growled ferally at the description in the book, only he

(apart from the headmaster and Hermione) recognised the description, the

change in the werewolf's appearance was quite a shock to many in the

room, Severus Snape in particular looked quite intimidated by the stark

transformation, although he did his best at hiding his reaction.

"Moony?" asked James wide-eyed seeing the reaction, "what is wrong?"

It seemed Remus was beyond giving a response comprehensible to the

human ear, as he growled again. This caused James and Sirius to exchange

worried glances.

"That's right," rasped the other. "Pleased to see me, Dumbledore?"

"No, I cannot say that I am…"

Fenrir Greyback grinned, showing pointed teeth.

"What in Merlin's name is he doing in a school? Who let that bastard in?"

shouted an outraged Sirius, before his language down-graded into some

rather interesting and shocking curses.

"Language Mr Black!" scolded Minerva, "I completely agree with the

sentiment, however your vocabulary is presently leaving something to be

desired."

"I thought it summed up the situation perfectly to be honest," retorted James

darkly, "if anyone deserves that language it is Greyback... besides to ask

again, what is that monster doing in a school full of children?"

"You do realise you just implied that someone you consider a friend is in

fact also a monster by extension, don't you?" shot Snape viciously.

"No," said Sirius staunchly, "It is not the fact that Greyback is a werewolf

which makes him a monster, it is his choices. He could choose to try and

overcome the curse and be part of society and not harm anyone, instead

Greyback seeks out the innocent and is known to position himself near

children in hope of infecting them too, it is his complete disregard for

humanity which makes him a monster, not his disease. Remus is not a

monster, he would never willingly try to infect anyone else, because he

wouldn't want them to have to share his burden, as you well know."

"Oi!" yelled Alice over the cacophony of noise that was slowly escalating

into a din, "do you want to listen or not? I am going to start reading again

on the count of three whether you lot shut it or not... 1,2,3, thank you!"

It seemed Alice's tactic worked as all fights temporarily ceased and the

attention was focused on Alice and the book once again.

Blood trickled down his chin and he licked his lips slowly, obscenely.

"WHAT?" shrieked Lily.

"Volume Ms Evans, we like our eardrums are they currently exist."

"sorry, what?" repeated Lily in the same outraged voice, just a lower

register and decibel, "that must mean he has bitten someone... a student..."

"It is not even full moon and he isn't transformed," observed Frank trying to

stay calm, however the fact that a feasting, sadistic werewolf with

cannibalistic tendencies was loose and feasting in the same building in his

son was not aiding his quest for rationality.

"But you know how much I like kids, Dumbledore."

"Am I to take it that you are attacking even without the full moon now?

This is most unusual… you have developed a taste for human flesh that

cannot be satisfied once a month?"

"That is sick!" declared a disgusted and outraged Lily.

"And to think he is in a school full of innocent and unwary children," said

Frank in utter disgust, he wondered if it was worth it. Was Draco's cover

worth the lives of an entire school which were now in jeopardy because a

group of death eaters and a sadistic, child loving, werewolf was in the

school? He somehow doubted that any muggle boarding school would

allow Jack the Ripper or some other well known muggle serial killer into a

school of unsuspecting children, they would be fired on the spot and

probably put in jail too. However given the tense state of the room, he

doubted that it was the time to bring this up, a glance at his transfiguration

professor showed that she was thinking much the same, perhaps he would

leave it to her to ream out the headmaster for his poor choice.

"That's right," said Greyback. "Shocks you, that, does it, Dumbledore?

Frightens you?"

"Well, I cannot pretend it does not disgust me a little," said

Dumbledore. "And, yes, I am a little shocked that Draco here invited

you, of all people, into the school where his friends live…"

"I am as well actually," said James now that he thought about it from that

angle, he hardly doubted whether a monster like Greyback would make a

distinction based on blood purity or house, which would put the pure-blood

slytherins in danger too if they were wandering around.

"I didn't," breathed Malfoy. He was not looking at Greyback; he did

not seem to want to even glance at him. "I didn't know he was going to

come —"

"I wouldn't want to miss a trip to Hogwarts, Dumbledore," rasped

Greyback. "Not when there are throats to be ripped out… delicious,

delicious…"

"He is kind of freaking me out at the moment," injected Alice while he

reads.

"Part of his charm," muttered Hermione looking very pale and shaky, the

thoughts of Greyback were not good for the fragile grasp which held onto

her sanity, indeed the mention of Greyback was enough to bring memories

to the surface which she would rather avoid. She had a momentary

flashback to her time in Malfoy Manor and the things Greyback liked to do

to his victims, thinking about him being in a school of innocent children

was more than enough to make her want to part with the contents of her

stomach, if the churning in her gut was any indication lunch may indeed

soon be a thing of the past for Hermione.

Unfortunately making a comment drew everyone's attention to Hermione

and by extension the sickly pallor of her skin and tears of frustration and

horror which were slowly cascading down her now pale cheeks. "You look

like crap, Mie," observed Frank, bluntly.

"Gee thanks, I thought you were a Ravenclaw, couldn't you have found a

more tactful way to say that?" commented Regulus, the grip on his hand

more than informed him of Hermione's discomfort, he could date the lack of

feeling in his limb to the moment when Greyback began to be described,

which told him the sadistic werewolf was a sensitive subject for Hermione.

"I also thought he had a girlfriend," said Alice sarcastically, "which would

make you think he knew how to talk to girls and not make them cry or run

away screaming."

"As you said, I am a ravenclaw, in this case I made an intelligent and

reasoned decision to be blunt, as I am in a room of people with generally

superior intellect and Alice, so you would have translated it to mean the

same thing anyway, so why waste my breath, when I can save for this

delightful explanation?"

"However, tactful or not, Mr Longbottom has a point," said Minerva,

looking at the time-traveller in concern, "you don't look very well at all my

dear."

"I'll be fine," murmured Hermione, not liking the sudden scrutiny she was

under, "I'll be better once the chapter is over."

And he raised a yellow fingernail and picked at his front teeth, leering

at Dumbledore.

"I could do you for afters, Dumbledore…"

Albus himself let out a slight shudder of distaste at that prospect.

"No," said the fourth Death Eater sharply. He had a heavy, brutal-

looking face. "We've got orders. Draco's got to do it. Now, Draco, and

quickly."

Malfoy was showing less resolution than ever. He looked terrified as he

stared into Dumbledore's face, which was even paler, and rather lower

than usual, as he had slid so far down the rampart wall.

"He's not long for this world anyway, if you ask me!" said the lopsided

man, to the accompaniment of his sister's wheezing giggles. "Look at

him — what's happened to you, then, Dumby?"

"Oh, weaker resistance, slower reflexes, Amycus," said Dumbledore.

"Old age, in short… one day, perhaps, it will happen to you… if you

are lucky…"

"What's that mean, then, what's that mean?" yelled the Death Eater,

suddenly violent.

"Always the same, weren't yeh, Dumby, talking and doing nothing,

nothing, I don't even know why the Dark Lord's bothering to kill yeh!

Come on, Draco, do it!"

But at that moment, there were renewed sounds of scuffling from below

and a voice shouted, "They've blocked the stairs - Reducto!

REDUCTO!"

Harry's heart leapt: so these four had not eliminated all opposition, but

merely broken through the fight to the top of the Tower, and, by the

sound of it, created a barrier behind them —

"Probably a ward of somekind," mused Sirius.

"Now, Draco, quickly!" said the brutal-faced man angrily.

But Malfoy's hand was shaking so badly that he could barely aim.

"I'll do it," snarled Greyback, moving towards Dumbledore with his

hands outstretched, his teeth bared.

"I would much prefer if he didn't, if that has any impact at all," commented

Albus lightly, he had resigned himself to his death, after all he had guessed

it was coming since the beginning of the book, however even he did not

want to become Greyback's latest chewtoy.

"I said no!" shouted the brutal-faced man; there was a flash of light

and the werewolf was blasted out of the way; he hit the ramparts and

staggered, looking furious.

Harry's heart was hammering so hard it seemed impossible that

nobody could hear him standing there, imprisoned by Dumbledore's

spell — if he could only move, he could aim a curse from under the

Cloak —

"Draco, do it, or stand aside so one of us —" screeched the woman, but

at that precise moment the door to the ramparts burst open once more

and there stood Snape, his wand clutched in his hand as his black eyes

swept the scene, from Dumbledore slumped against the wall, to the four

Death Eaters, including the enraged werewolf, and Malfoy.

"Thank Merlin that Severus is here," said Lily letting out a sigh of relief in

hope that her friend would be able to make it all better.

"We've got a problem, Snape," said the lumpy Amycus, whose eyes and

wand were fixed alike upon Dumbledore, "the boy doesn't seem able

—"

"Of course he isn't able to murder someone," said Lily, "he is just that, a

boy, not a hardened murderer like yourself! You should cherish his

innocence not want to destroy it and make him a killer with no care for

humanity like yourself." Lily took a deep breath and tried to calm down and

take a step away from her soapbox, suddenly another thought overcame her,

"it does make you wonder though, why do they do it? Why did they become

killers and follow Riddle, what was so screwed up that they deviated so

much from the right track? After all there is always a reason."

"You are too kind at times Evans," said Sirius in dismay, "no matter what

track or what happens in the past there is always a choice, it might not

always be an equal choice, however every single one of those bastards

made the choice to join and do what they do, sure there past may have

influenced them, but in the end they made the choice."

"That is very true Mr Black," said Albus, "that is why the imperius curse is

unforgivable, because it takes away the free will and ability to choose and

the caster makes the decision for you."

But somebody else had spoken Snape's name, quite softly.

"Severus…"

The sound frightened Harry beyond anything he had experienced all

evening. For the first time, Dumbledore was pleading.

This caused a few people to raise their heads, as none of them ever were

able to imagine their strong and unfailing headmaster in such a weak

position where he would be begging for anything, particularly from

someone who was presently a student.

Snape said nothing, but walked forwards and pushed Malfoy roughly

out of the way. The three Death Eaters fell back without a word. Even

the werewolf seemed cowed. Snape gazed for a moment at Dumbledore,

and there was revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his face.

"He's going to do it isn't he?" predicted Frank.

"Severus… please…"

"No Severus," pleaded Lily, "don't do it! Listen to the headmaster and

please, please don't kill him! I don't want my best friend to be a murderer."

"Probably already too late," muttered James darkly to himself.

Snape raised his wand and pointed it directly at Dumbledore.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Even Alice paused and was taken aback at the finality of the words written

so clearly on the page in black and white, however she decided to take the

blessed moment of shocked silence to read the final few sentences without

interruption.

A jet of green light shot from the end of Snape's wand and hit

Dumbledore squarely in the chest. Harry's scream of horror never left

him; silent and unmoving, he was forced to watch as Dumbledore was

blasted into the air: for a split second he seemed to hang suspended

beneath the shining skull, and then he fell slowly backwards, like a

great rag doll, over the battlements and out of sight.

"Is that the end?" asked Lily, "please tell me that is not the end! It can't be...

it's not right."

"It is the end of the chapter, though there are a few still remaining in the

book," said Alice quietly, knowing her usual exuberant personality would

not be welcome at this point.

"But I don't like the ending... It can't be right it can't be what really

happened!" said Lily plaintively.

"You may not like it Ms Evans," said Albus calmly, "however you cannot

be surprised at how it has turned out, I have suspected it for quite some

time."

"You mean you suspected that you would be murdered by the slimy piece of

scum that is Severus Snape, supposedly reformed death eater turned

murderer?" asked James acidicly, with a certain tone that bordered almost

on hysteria, for James Potter it was hard to imagine a world where Albus

Dumbledore would not be there to act as a leader, figurehead and

benevolent authority.

"While I do not agree with your tone or phrasing Mr Potter, you are correct,

I did in fact guess in the very first chapters what would likely occur and by

whose hand it would most likely occur, even if I did not know all of the

details," confirmed Albus, indeed he had suspected as much from the

second chapter when Severus took the unbreakable vow.

"And so you are saying that because you suspected that it would happen

that it is alright? It is alright to murder someone, take their life and hurt

countless people with an unnecessary loss of life, just because you thought

it was going to happen?" questioned James passionately, before turning to

lash out at the perpetrator himself, "what about you Snivellous? Do you

think it is alright to murder someone, like you just murdered the

headmaster, the only person who believed in your supposed innocence? Do

you? How does it feel to know that you are responsible for the fact that a

great man is dead, will cease to exist, as a direct result of your actions?

Does it feel good? Do you even care at all? Why on earth are you even in

this room at all when you are just going to murder and betray us one by

one..."

"That is enough for now, Mr Potter" commanded Albus quietly but

effectively, "you must all calm down!" The last dictate was given as it

appeared that the other two marauders would happily take over Mr Potter's

spot on the soap-box. "You must stop to consider more of the situation, Mr

Snape hardly had a choice in the matter, as his role in Draco's plot had been

determined since he took the unbreakable vow in the second chapter of this

book, he had no choice but to kill my future self it appears."

"Didn't you just agree with Padfoot earlier, Professor, when he said that

there is always a choice," said Remus in a deep voice which had an

underlying growl remaining from his reaction to not only the presence of

Fenrir Greyback but the other unpleasant details of the book, "Snape could

have chosen to die, instead of murdering you. You said yourself, in an

earlier book, that there comes a time to choose between what is right and

what is easy, Snape chose what was easy, it is never right to murder

someone, particularly not yourself, someone who has done so much to help

so many people, myself and Severus included! In this case, if Snape was

truly a member of the light he would have chosen to do what was right, and

die, instead of murdering someone, which is what I would do in his place!"

"Well aren't you just a bloody Gryffindor then," sneered Snape, reacting

negatively to the pressure and scrutiny he was under due to his former

actions. However in retrospect it was probably not the best idea, as with

everyone under so much pressure and emotionally exhausted from all the

revelations of the future, it was no surprise that this comment became the

spark which set off a whole host of tempers within the room, starting with

the elder Black.

"Excuse me! Who the bloody hell are you to criticise us, considering what

your future self has done!" yelled an angry and confused Sirius who felt the

need to lash out at someone, even while he processed all of this new

information.

From that beginning the room turned into a cacophony of screaming, it was

evident now exactly why Hermione had possession of everyone's wands,

because otherwise Severus would have been nothing more than a grease

smudge on the couch cushion. Finally it was up to Minerva to bring order to

the room (Albus had decided to allow them all the chance to vent, as he

hoped it would help them to release pent up emotions so that they could all

think more clearly.)

"That is quite enough," said Minerva sternly, however scarcely anyone was

paying attention to her they were all too busy yelling.. "ENOUGH! Thank

you. Now I believe after Mr Black died, we had a toast, I believe that Albus

too deserves such recognition, so perhaps Ms Granger could oblige?"

Hermione nodded, slightly cowed by all the yelling, although somewhat

glad that it got the attention off her, giving her a chance to recover from the

mention of Greyback and the memories which it disturbed. She took the

chance to busy herself by preparing the whiskey from her bag, which she

had previously refilled. She only managed to catch one last guilt trip given

to Severus, while she poured.

"I can't believe you did that!" said Lily looking choked up and disappointed

in Severus, "I trusted you and believed that you were a good person. Why

did you have to do it?"

"I don't know, I can't answer for my future self, however I am not that man,

and I hope to Merlin I will never become that man!"

AN; Thanks for reading, please review! Cheers!

Finally all the glasses were filled and passed out, Hermione made extra sure

to check that someone had actually given Severus one (she wouldn't have

been surprised if someone had accidentally excluded him).

"To Albus Dumbledore, a headmaster, colleague and friend, may you rest in

peace and enjoy your next great adventure," toasted Minerva, starting to

feel overcome with sadness at the loss of her friend and colleague in the

future.

"Cheers" and with that everyone downed their drinks.

28. Chapter 28

The Flight of the Prince

AN: So... To answer the FAQs... yes I am alive... surprised? I know I

haven't updated in awhile, I will work on doing it more frequently however

my circumstances have changed and finding time to write is a bit harder,

basically to explain, I used writing as a creative release/method of

procrastination while at uni, however since I have graduated I am no longer

spending hours staring at my computer screen not writing assignments. I am

continuing, however it will just be a bit longer between updates, so just bear

with me. I also would like to thank everyone for the review, sorry for not

responding to them all, however know that even if I don't reply, I really

really appreciated it. As usual I own nothing that you recognise. Please

enjoy the latest chapter, hopefully the next one won't be too far away.

Happy Reading. Cheers!

"I am honoured that you all care so much and think so highly of me," said

Albus, trying to redirect the conversation back to the book, he knew that the

students could probably be there all night venting, however it would be

more valuable to read on in Albus' opinion, after all there were still many

untied strings and unanswered questions which needed to be resolved,

unfortunately the students did not seem eager to comply with his thoughts.

"Well some of us care," said Remus acidly, "others obviously desire the

outcome to the point where they murder you."

"What a lovely observation," said Regulus sarcastically, "It doesn't appear

to be a pointed comment at all."

"Of course you will defend him, you are a death eater and a slytherin after

all, which means murder is a second nature to you," jumped in James,

obviously still rather upset at the recent turn of events.

"What a lovely generalisation," said Regulus dryly, clearly not amused,

"you lose points though for lack of originality, I believe that I have heard

that one before. Besides my presence in this room would indicate that you

don't have the whole story, obviously I am not just a death eater and

slytherin, who enjoys murdering people, otherwise Mie wouldn't have let

me into the room."

While Regulus did raise a valid point, it is rare that such wisdom and

observations are fully valued when the audience is overly emotional, such

as at that moment. No doubt at a later date the implications of the guest

selection regarding the allegiance of Severus Snape would penetrate their

exhausted and overloaded brains at a later date, it would not be now, instead

the insightful comment only added more fuel to the tempers of the sensitive

students in the room.

"Well she let a murderer in, so who knows how flawed her judgement really

is?" sniped back James.

"Thank you for such a sterling compliment, Potter," said Hermione

sarcastically.

"Can we please move on?" asked Alice looking quite frazzled, not quite

ready to deal with the situation fully and able to recognise that this was not

something she could make light of to help cope with, so instead she decided

denial would be the best modus oparendi for the moment and turned her

mind to the next biggest concern in her mind. "I know we are all upset

about Professor Dumbledore dying, however my son is fighting and Malfoy

said that there was a corpse, so could we resume this lovely conversation

once I know that my son is not going to be joining the headmaster on his

next great adventure."

Lily picked up the book with shaking hands and tried to turn to the next

page, however she ended up dropping the book on the floor. A resounding

bang echoed throughout the room as the book hit the floor. Lily just stared

at it with tears welling in her eyes, matching the salty drops of distress

tracking down her porcelain cheeks.

"I can't do it," said Lily, her voice cracking, "I don't think I can read

anymore."

James immediately put his anger to the side, and gathered Lily in his arms,

and made soothing noises to try and console her. "Shh, it will be okay,

you'll see... it will all work out in the end."

"Will it?"

"They will have to answer to you if it doesn't and if you can scare me, you

can scare anyone... they won't dare let it happen any other way."

"So who will read then?" asked Alice.

"I will," said Albus lightly, "it should be an interesting experience reading

about your own death."

"Absolutely fantastic," said Sirius derisively, "such an unexpected joy."

"Yes well, as Miss Smith has said, it is best if we move on and answer some

more questions and tie up some loose ends."

Albus quirked an eyebrow at the title of the chapter, seemed more

interesting information would be revealed about Severus Snape in the

coming chapter, he wondered how many people knew of the Slytherin's

pseudonym. "This chapter is titled The Flight of the Prince."

A few people quirked their eyebrows at the title, however it didn't get as an

intrigued reaction as it would have if it was earlier in the book, there

seemed to be bigger things on everyone's mind.

Harry felt as though he too were hurtling through space; it had not

happened… It could not have happened…

"Out of here, quickly," said Snape.

He seized Malfoy by the scruff of the neck and forced him through the

door ahead of the rest; Greyback and the squat brother and sister

followed, the latter both panting excitedly.

Frank wondered if Snape would double back to get Harry, once they were

all out of the room, after all if Draco Malfoy deduced that there was another

person up in the Tower, then surely Snape would be able to deduce the same

as well as who it probably was. Harry could be in great danger if that was

the case.

As they vanished through the door, Harry realized he could move

again. What was now holding him paralyzed against the wall was not

magic, but horror and shock. He threw the Invisibility Cloak aside as

the brutal-faced Death Eater, last to leave the tower top, was

disappearing through the door.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

The Death Eater buckled as though hit in the back with something

solid and fell to the ground, rigid as a waxwork, but he had barely hit

the floor when Harry was clambering over him and running down the

darkened staircase.

Frank was honestly shocked and wondered why Snape did not come back,

something did not add up there.

Terror tore at Harry's heart… He had to get to Dumbledore and he

had to catch Snape… Somehow the two things were linked… He could

reverse what had happened if he had them both together…

Dumbledore could not have died…

Albus smiled sadly at the naive logic, if only life was that simple,

unfortunately, as he well knew, no matter how hard you might try there is

nothing you can do to bring back the dead, especially not vengeance.

He leapt the last ten steps of the spiral staircase and stopped where he

landed, his wand raised. The dimly lit corridor was full of dust; half the

ceiling seemed to have fallen in; and a battle was raging before him,

but even as he attempted to make out who were fighting whom, he

heard the hated voice shout, "It's over, time to go!" and saw Snape

disappearing around the corner at the far end of the corridor; he and

Malfoy seemed to have forced their way through the fight unscathed.

As Harry plunged after them, one of the fighters detached themselves

from the fray and flew at him: it was the werewolf, Fenrir.

"If he dares to hurt another member of my family, I swear to Merlin I will

sick an angry rhino on that creature!" snarled James going on the defence as

he sensed a possible threat to his son. Despite the circumstances, James'

threat made Remus smile, he was touched that James considered him

family, Sirius yes, but not him. Therefore to hear his friend's righteous

anger was a balm to his spirit, which was beginning to wear thin.

He was on top of Harry before Harry could raise his wand: Harry fell

backward, with filthy matted hair in his face, the stench of sweat and

blood filling his nose and mouth, hot greedy breath at his throat —

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Harry felt Fenrir collapse against him; with a stupendous effort he

pushed the werewolf off and onto the floor as a jet of green light came

flying toward him; he ducked and ran, headfirst, into the fight. His feet

met something squashy and slippery on the floor and he stumbled:

There were two bodies lying there, lying facedown in a pool of blood,

but there was no time to investigate.

"Okay, can we rephrase that... while Harry might not care, one of those

bodies could be my son!" said Alice, slightly annoyed at the lack of

information about her son.

"Don't worry, Neville is fine, he proved himself to be a great leader that

night," said Hermione quietly, still slightly overwhelmed at reliving the

memories and hearing the story 'first hand' from Harry's perspective.

"That is a relief, so who are the cadaver couple then?" asked Alice, "it

wasn't a student was it?"

"There were no fatalities on our side," conceded Hermione, she would

usually not reveal the future but she was beginning to get weary and

couldn't be bothered holding out, after all the stress reading had brought all

she wanted to do was lay down and nap for a long time, reliving the past

was emotionally taxing, even if not physically hard.

"I daresay recent events would beg to differ with that statement," pointed

out Sirius sarcastically.

"Apart from the headmaster then," said Hermione, a current of annoyance

present in her voice.

Harry now saw red hair flying like flames in front of him: Ginny was

locked in combat with the lumpy Death Eater, Amycus, who was

throwing hex after hex at her while she dodged them: Amycus was

giggling, enjoying the sport:

"Crucio - Crucio - you can't dance forever, pretty-"

"How can he want to do that to a child?" said Lily, looking stricken at the

possibility, after all Amycus did have one thing right, Ginny would not be

able to dodge forever, one would eventually get her and she would end up

tortured... a fate which she did not believe befitted anyone, especially not a

child.

Frank scowled slightly, he knew he didn't understand much, however

despite being distracted by the headmaster's death, his annoyance at the

situation the school was in and the lack of action, if not encouragement of it

on Dumbledore's behalf, in order to help Draco, was back in full force, with

interest. Schools were meant to be places of refuge, not war, they should not

involve innocent children, by allowing death eaters to enter a school there

was a great risk to the other students, Frank, while sympathetic to Draco's

situation, believed the price was not worth the risk to his son and all the

other unsuspecting children

"Impedimenta!" yelled Harry.

His jinx hit Amycus in the chest: He gave a piglike squeal of pain, was

lifted off his feet and slammed into the opposite wall, slid down it, and

fell out of sight behind Ron, Professor McGonagall, and Lupin, each of

whom was battling a separate Death Eater.

"Quite impressive," remarked Minerva, "last time I checked, impedimenta

was meant to slow one down or stop them in their tracks, rather than slam

them into walls (not that Amycus Carrow doesn't deserve it)."

"Hell hath no fury like a pissed off Harry Potter," murmured Hermione.

"A family trait," mused Alice.

"Which side?" asked Hermione curiously.

"Both," said quite a number of people in unison.

Beyond them, Harry saw Tonks fighting an enormous blond wizard

who was sending curses flying in all directions, so that they ricocheted

off the walls around them, cracking stone, shattering the nearest

window —

"Harry, where did you come from?" Ginny cried, but there was no time

to answer her. He put his head down and sprinted forward, narrowly

avoiding a blast that erupted over his head, showering them all in bits

of wall. Snape must not escape, he must catch up with Snape —

"Gee what a great friend, sees people getting buried under a pile of rubble,

doesn't even think to see if we are all right before continuing on a quest for

vengeance," said Alice sarcastically.

"Cut him some slack, Smith, it is not like he chose to have a filthy traitor

murder someone he admires in front of him," defended James hotly.

"For crying out loud Potter, I realise that, however if Ginny is out there,

than my son most likely is as well, and I have just as much right to be

concerned about him as you do with Harry," scolded Alice, "besides you of

all people should be able to recognise sarcasm, or does it need to parade

around in multicoloured fur and do the hula?"

"Take that!" shouted Professor McGonagall, and Harry glimpsed the

female Death Eater, Alecto, sprinting away down the corridor with her

arms over her head, her brother right behind her.

"Feeling vicious Professor?" asked Sirius cheekily.

"Minerva is an excellent duellist," affirmed the headmaster, rather amused

by his professor's duelling, before commenting in an undertone to his

blushing colleague, "I daresay though, the enthusiasm is probably a result

of Alastor's influence." This comment only seemed to cause the usually

severe Transfiguration Mistress to become even more flustered.

He launched himself after them but his foot caught on something, and

next moment he was lying across someone's legs. Looking around, he

saw Neville's pale, round face flat against the floor.

"Neville, are you -?"

"M'all right," muttered Neville, who was clutching his stomach,

"Harry… Snape 'n' Malfoy… ran past…"

"Usually that would be an indicator of not being alright," said Regulus.

"But he was," reaffirmed Hermione, she just wanted to get the book over

with, so they could move on, not that what they were moving on to would

be so much better.

"I know, I'm on it!" said Harry, aiming a hex from the floor at the

enormous blond Death Eater who was causing most of the chaos. The

man gave a howl of pain as the spell hit him in the face: He wheeled

around, staggered, and then pounded away after the brother and sister.

Harry scrambled up from the floor and began to sprint along the

corridor, ignoring the bangs issuing from behind him, the yells of the

others to come back, and the mute call of the figures on the ground

whose fate he did not yet know…He skidded around the corner, his

trainers slippery with blood; Snape had an immense head start. Was it

possible that he had already entered the cabinet in the Room of

Requirement, or had the Order made steps to secure it, to prevent the

Death Eaters retreating that way?

"I would be shocked if measures to prevent that had not been taken," said

Frank, "it is simple common sense, although I would have preferred if such

people were not even able to access a school in the first place."

He could hear nothing but his own pounding feet, his own hammering

heart as he sprinted along the next empty corridor, but then spotted a

bloody footprint that showed at least one of the fleeing Death Eaters

was heading toward the front doors — perhaps the Room of

Requirement was indeed blocked — He skidded around another corner

and a curse flew past him; he dived behind a suit of armour that

exploded. He saw the brother and sister running down the marble

staircase ahead and aimed jinxes at them, but merely hit several

bewigged witches in a portrait on the landing, who ran screeching into

neighbouring paintings. As he leapt the wreckage of armor, Harry

heard more shouts and screams; other people within the castle seemed

to have awoken…

"You would hope that the students weren't able to sleep through a battle,"

said James.

"I would prefer the opposite," said Minerva, "that actual dormitories are

extremely well warded and therefore safe, however if the students hear the

commotion and get curious they become potential targets and are put into a

dangerous situation, which we would rather avoid."

"Because allowing Fenrir Greyback into a school full of students is

otherwise so safe," said Hermione sarcastically, more to herself than

anything, however most of the room heard it and conceded the point.

He pelted toward a shortcut, hoping to overtake the brother and sister

and close in on Snape and Malfoy, who must surely have reached the

grounds by now. Remembering to leap the vanishing step halfway

down the concealed staircase, he burst through a tapestry at the bottom

and out into a corridor where a number of bewildered and pyjama-clad

Hufflepuffs stood.

"Harry! We heard a noise, and someone said something aboui the Dark

Mark —" began Ernie Macmillan.

"Because this is really such a good time to be asking questions," said Alice

darkly, "perhaps they would like to sit down for a spot of tea and some

scones and chat about the weather while they are at it."

"Out of the way!" yelled Harry, knocking two boys aside as he sprinted

toward the landing and down the remainder of the marble staircase.

The oak front doors had been blasted open, there were smears of blood

on the flagstones, and several terrified students stood huddled against

the walls, one or two still cowering with their arms over their faces. The

giant Gryffindor hourglass had been hit by a curse, and the rubies

within were still falling, with a loud rattle, onto the flagstones below.

Harry flew across the entrance hall and out into the dark grounds: He

could just make out three figures racing across the lawn, heading for

the gates beyond which they could Disapparate — by the looks of them,

the huge blond Death Eater and, some way ahead of him, Snape and

Malfoy… The cold night air ripped at Harry's lungs as he tore after

them; he saw a flash of light in the distance that momentarily

silhouetted his quarry. He did not know what it was but continued to

run, not yet near enough to get a good aim with a curse —Another

flash, shouts, retaliatory jets of light, and Harry understood: Hagrid

had emerged from his cabin and was trying to stop the Death Eaters

escaping, and though every breath seemed to shred his lungs and the

stitch in his chest was like fire, Harry sped up as an unbidden voice in

his head said: not Hagrid… not Hagrid too…

"No!"

"If five of the ministry's finest couldn't take on Hagrid, I doubt a few death

eaters would have much more luck, his giant blood will protect him,"

observed Remus, making a logical contribution.

Something caught Harry hard in the small of the back and he fell

forward, his face smacking the ground, blood pouring out of both

nostrils: He knew, even as he rolled over, his wand ready, that the

brother and sister he had overtaken using his shortcut were closing in

behind him…

"Impedimenta!" he yelled as he rolled over again, crouching close to

the dark ground, and miraculously his jinx hit one of them, who

stumbled and fell, tripping up the other; Harry leapt to his feet and

sprinted on after Snape.

And now he saw the vast outline of Hagrid, illuminated by the light of

the crescent moon revealed suddenly behind clouds; the blond Death

Eater was aiming curse after curse at the gamekeeper; but Hagrids

immense strength and the toughened skin he had inherited from his

giantess mother seemed to be protecting him. Snape and Malfoy,

however, were still running; they would soon be beyond the gates, able

to Disapparate —Harry tore past Hagrid and his opponent, took aim at

Snape's back, and yelled, "Stupefy!"

"Aiming at spell at someone's back, how noble," snarked Severus, he didn't

really mean it, he knew that his future self probably more than deserved it

for what he had just done, however the tension was getting to him and he

needed to let it out somehow... cue sarcasm. In retrospect, it probably wasn't

the most cunning choice... perhaps the younger Black was right and he was

a masochist.

"Because murdering someone and fleeing the scene is just so noble isn't it?"

replied James, quick to return fire and vent more of his frustration onto the

Slytherin.

"Calm down please," commanded Dumbledore, taking the situation in hand,

"arguing is not going to help anyone and is not productive, so perhaps it

would be best for everyone to restrain themselves."

"Oh yeah, I can see that happening, because Gryffindor's are world-renown

for their self-control and ability to restrain themselves," sneered Severus

again.

"Seems you are the one who is violating the headmaster's decree, not us,

despite our placement in Gryffindor," pointed out Sirius, with one regal

eyebrow arched, as though he was mocking Snape.

Severus snorted wryly, typical, he thought, once again everyone was against

him, the worst part was that he couldn't truly blame them, he didn't know

what to think about the situation himself, and that was killing him more

than any of the attacks (apart from Lily's disappointment). From where he

was sitting right now in the present (or past depending on how you looked

at it), he honestly did not believe that he was capable of becoming the man

described in the book, he didn't WANT to become that man either. However

the evidence was damning and written in the book in black and white, that

no matter how much he hated it , he did in fact become this person, whether

he believed it or not. Was this the truth? Was this truly who he became? Or

was this just some sick joke by Granger, a way of punishing him for all the

hurt inflicted on her and her friends by the bastard he became? He honestly

did not know, and quite frankly it was annoying the heck out of him.

He missed;the jet of red light soared past Snape's head; Snape shouted,

"Run, Draco!"and turned. Twenty yards apart, he and Harry looked at

each other before raising their wands simultaneously.

"Cruc —"

Lily's eyes widened, she couldn't believe that her son was using that

horrible curse again.

But Snape parried the curse, knocking Harry backward off his feet

before he could complete it; Harry rolled over and scrambled back up

again as the huge Death Eater behind him yelled, "Incendio!" Harry

heard an explosive bang and a dancing orange light spilled over all of

them: Hagrid's house was on fire.

"Fang's in there, yer evil —!" Hagrid bellowed.

"Cruc —" yelled Harry for the second time, aiming for the figure

ahead illuminated in the dancing firelight, but Snape blocked the spell

again. Harry could see him sneering.

Severus felt slightly indignant, where everyone was ready to crucify him for

using a single unforgivable on a man who was dying (the diseased hand was

more than enough evidence, without even considering that particularly

delightful potion), Harry had tried, not once but twice, to use an

unforgivable curse on him, yet no-one had said anything in regards to it.

What Severus didn't see was a flash of hurt on Hermione's face, she couldn't

believe her best friend would try and use such a curse, no matter how much

emotional turmoil in him. Having experienced it first-hand she would not

want to have it inflicted on any other human being, let alone being the one

who did it. Perhaps having been exposed to it so many times in his young

life had numbed Harry to the serverity of it, but even if that was the case, it

didn't stop Hermione from being very disappointed in Harry's actions.

"No Unforgivable Curses from you, Potter!" he shouted over the

rushing of the flames, Hagrid's yells, and the wild yelping of the

trapped Fang. "You haven't got the nerve or the ability —"

"Incarc —"Harry roared, but Snape deflected the spell with an almost

lazy flick of his arm.

"Seems Potter isn't as good as he is made out to be," sneered Severus, trying

to verbally siphon off some of the tension and hurt within him.

James growled and probably would have hexed Snape for that if Hermione

hadn't already confiscated his wand several chapters ago. Hermione decided

it was time to show Snape some support.

"I think it is because Severus is a superb dueller in his own right," said

Hermione, giving the sullen Slytherin a supportive smile, "I watched him

duel Lily several days ago and it was quite spectacular, imagine his

capability with twenty more years of practice, knowledge and character

building. There would be no shame in losing a duel to Severus, who has

proven many times to be a highly skilled wizard several times over, and is

able to do things that most wizards would only dream about." Hermione

thought about Harry recounting Snape's flight from the castle during the

battle.

"Because murder is a talent everyone should be proud of," retorted James

acidicly.

Hermione sent the headboy an enigmatic smile, she knew that James Potter

would be jealous when he discovered later on that his nemesis could in fact

fly. Regulus squeezed Hermione's hand and gave her a smile, showing his

appreciation for her standing up for his housemate.

"Fight back!" Harry screamed at him. "Fight back, you cowardly —"

"Coward, did you call me, Potter?" shouted Snape. "Your father would

never attack me unless it was four on one, what would you call him, I

wonder?"

"Stupe —"

"Blocked again and again and again until you learn to keep your mouth

shut and your mind closed, Potter!" sneered Snape, deflecting the curse

once more.

"You are using legimancy on him while duelling?" asked Lily, wide-eyed,

"is that even legal."

"It is not a bad idea, as it allows you to know what the opposition is

thinking, it would be foolish to not press that advantage if you had it,

besides, I am a murderer apparently, so I doubt I would be concerned about

breaking laws," said Severus dryly, with liberal sarcasm evident in his tone.

"Now come!" he shouted at the huge Death Eater behind Harry. "It is

time to be gone, before the Ministry turns up —"

"Impedi —"

But before he could finish this jinx, excruciating pain hit Harry; he

keeled over in the grass. Someone was screaming, he would surely die

of this agony, Snape was going to torture him to death or madness —

"You better not be using the cruciatous curse on my son Snape," sneered

James protectively.

"So he is allowed to try and cast it on me, but I am not allowed to return the

favour?" replied back Severus, "besides, if it hasn't permeated your thick

skull Potter, I am not the only death eater there, therefore it might not have

even been me who cast that curse."

"No!" roared Snape's voice and the pain stopped as suddenly as it had

started; Harry lay curled on the dark grass, clutching his wand and

panting; somewhere overhead Snape was shouting, "Have you

forgotten our orders? Potter belongs to the Dark Lord — we are to

leave him! Go! Go!"

"Seems that Severus wasn't the one who cast the curse," said Regulus softly,

"instead he is the one who stopped it, you should be thanking him rather

than condemning him. After all it would have been easy for him to let Harry

suffer after he tried to cast that curse on Snape not once, but twice, but

instead he stopped it."

Hermione nodded, Regulus raised a valid point, her own knowledge of

Snape's ultimate loyalties also helped her come to that conclusion and made

her more alert for little signs of this in his behaviour. For example, telling

Harry to shut his mouth and close his mind, especially when duelling was in

fact very good advice, which would increase their success in a duel and thus

the longevity of their lives.

And Harry felt the ground shudder under his face as the brother and

sister and the enormous Death Eater obeyed, running toward the gates.

Harry uttered an inarticulate yell of rage: In that instant, he cared not

whether he lived or died.

Pushing himself to his feet again, he staggered blindly toward Snape,

the man he now hated as much as he hated Voldemort himself —

"Sectum —!"

Snape flicked his wand and the curse was repelled yet again; but Harry

was mere feet away now and he could see Snape's face clearly at last:

He was no longer sneering or jeering; the blazing flames showed a face

full of rage. Mustering all his powers of concentration, Harry thought,

Levi —

Lily shook her head, this would not end well for Harry, if nothing else

Severus hated it when people used his own spells against him. She had a

feeling this is where Snape's personal moniker was about to be unveiled.

"No, Potter!" screamed Snape. There was a loud BANG and Harry was

soaring backward, hitting the ground hard again, and this time his

wand flew out of his hand. He could hear Hagrid yelling and Fang

howling as Snape closed in and looked down on him where he lay,

wandless and defenseless as Dumbledore had been. Snape's pale face,

illuminated by the flaming cabin, was suffused with hatred just as it

had been before he had cursed Dumbledore.

"You dare use my own spells against me, Potter? It was I who invented

them — I, the Half-Blood Prince! And you'd turn my inventions on me,

like your filthy father, would you? I don't think so… no!"

There was a moment of silence.

"Your the half-blood prince?" asked an astonished Frank.

"You sound so shocked," observed Severus dryly.

"Did you know this?" asked Remus, turning to Lily.

Lily nodded, "of course I knew," said Lily, as though it was a ridiculous

question.

"Then why didn't you tell us?" said James stunned, he couldn't believe that

a person he thought he would like, who invented all his favourite spells was

in fact Severus Snape of all people a future murderer and death eater to

boot.

"For two reasons," said Lily, "one it was fun watching you trying to figure it

out, especially when the answer was right in front of you the whole time,

literally."

Regulus stared at Hermione, brow scrunched for a moment, "hang on... You

told us that at the very start when you first met us, that was your proof to

Severus that you were genuine."

"I am aware, give the boy a gold star, I was surprised that no one picked up

on that before now."

"I knew that moniker sounded familiar for a reason," said Frank cursing his

own stupidity, he was meant to be a Ravenclaw for crying out loud!

"So you are saying that you wrote all the spells that we enjoy using?" asked

Sirius with a raised eyebrow.

Severus just glared at him, as though to say 'are you really that stupid... I

would think that is obvious.'

"He did," said Lily slightly proudly, happy to be in denial about current

events and talk about the Severus she knew and loved, rather that the

murdering manifestation that was in the books, "although it was a joint

effort, we created them and the potions short cuts together, although there

doesn't seem to be anything new in the book."

"So you are saying that you and Mr Snape wrote all those spells and potions

hints before you completed you OWLs?" asked Minerva, slightly stunned,

but extremely proud of the present achievements of the students (she wasn't

going to touch on what they were doing in the future).

Lily nodded. Hermione looked on with wide-eyes, she remembered being

envious of the 'Prince' when she thought that he made all the hints when he

was in 6th year or above, she didn't even consider that the author of the

spells could have been pre-OWL students... she was more than a little

jealous and was beginning to realise that although she was considered smart

and a bookworm in her own time, she had nothing on the magical

achievements of some of these students, no wonder Voldemort considered

them to be such a potential threat!

The room seemed to be deep in thought, until Sirius decided that the

atmosphere of the room was far too serious and he saw the perfect

opportunity to create a moment of levity.

"So Prongs," said Sirius with a smirk, "are you going to do it?"

"Do what?" asked James looking slightly wary and confused.

"Follow through with it, of course," said Sirius.

"Follow through with what, Padfoot?" asked James.

"Your vow of course!" said an openingly grinning Sirius.

"What vow, for Merlin's sake?" asked James now irritated, well aware that

he was going to become the butt of his friend's joke, not that he minded,

however 'smug Sirius' was particularly annoying to be on the receiving end

of (although amusing for everyone else).

"I distinctly remember you swearing to "smack one on the lips of the author

of these spells and worship the blessed ground on which they walk", which

brings me to my question, we now know who made these spells, so are you

going to man up and follow though?"

The look on James and Severus' faces successfully induced levity into the

serious room, lightening the atmosphere for the time being.

Lily smiled, "since I don't appreciate my boyfriend kissing other males, I

suppose as co-author of said spells I will have to persevere and take one of

the team."

"If it is really that much of a punishment for you to kiss your boyfriend and

future husband you should run away and marry me, Evans, love of my life,"

teased Sirius, proud of how well his antics were working, and happy to have

another opportunity to tease his best-mate.

"Oh Sirius," said Lily with a smile playing along, "how I adore thee, you

truly are the love of my life."

"Don't worry Prongs," said Remus joining in, "they will kill each other

within a week and you will have the love of your life begging to be with

you again, perhaps even Lily will come back to you too."

"OI!" yelled James, "when did it become pick on Prongs day?"

Lily smiled and stroked James' hand consolingly, "Oh honey, it is always

pick on Prongs day."

"Okay, so moving on before this becomes even more disturbing than it

already is," said Frank, "perhaps we should get back to the book."

"joy," muttered Snape to himself, he was enjoying the brief reprieve from

being abused for becoming a murderer.

Harry had dived for his wand; Snape shot a hex at it and it flew feet

away into the darkness and out of sight.

"Kill me then," panted Harry, who felt no fear at all, but only rage and

contempt. "Kill me like you killed him, you coward —"

"DON'T —" screamed Snape, and his face was suddenly demented,

inhuman, as though he was in as much pain as the yelping, howling dog

stuck in the burning house behind them —"CALL ME COWARD!"

Hermione quirked an eyebrow, she had a flashback to Harry calling Lupin a

coward in Grimmauld place, the similarities were quite uncanny, it seems

calling someone a coward was a trademark insult for Harry, and was able to

produce quite volatile results, no matter the individual

And he slashed at the air: Harry felt a white-hot, whiplike something

hit him across the face and was slammed backward into the ground.

Spots of light burst in front of his eyes and for a moment all the breath

seemed to have gone from his body, then he heard a rush of wings

above him and something enormous obscured the stars. Buckbeak had

flown at Snape, who staggered backward as the razor-sharp claws

slashed at him.

Lily huffed, "you know Sev, if you don't want Harry to use your spells

against you, then it is only fair that you don't use my spells against him,

considering he is my son."

"That spell doesn't count," protested Severus, "you didn't even mean to

invent it, it was the accidental by-product of your attempt to replicate a

light-sabre, a very bad attempt, may I add."

Lily glared at him, the failure to create that spell successfully still ranckled,

"ah but you see, it was still my screw up, therefore it is my spell, besides

accident or not it still comes in handy when duelling. But no matter how

useful you should still not use it against my son!"

As Harry raised himself into a sitting position, his head still swimming

from its last contact with the ground, he saw Snape running as hard as

he could, the enormous beast flapping behind him and screeching as

Harry had never heard him screech — Harry struggled to his feet,

looking around groggily for his wand, hoping to give chase again, but

even as his fingers fumbled in the grass, discarding twigs, he knew it

would be too late, and sure enough, by the time he had located his

wand, he turned only to see the hippogriff circling the gates. Snape had

managed to Disapparate just beyond the school's boundaries.

"If I may point out something in Severus' favour, he knows a lot more

painful methods of distracting someone who is wandless than mildly hexing

them and making their wand hard to find, after all Harry still has all his

limbs," pointed out Regulus dryly. Although the glare he received indicated

his mild attempt at humour and standing up for his house-mate was not

appreciated.

"Hagrid," muttered Harry, still dazed, looking around. "HAGRID?"

He stumbled toward the burning house as an enormous figure emerged

from out of the flames carrying Fang on his back. With a cry of

thankfulness, Harry sank to his knees; he was shaking in every limb,

his body ached all over, and his breath came in painful stabs.

"Yeh all righ', Harry? Yeh all righ'? Speak ter me, Harry…"

Hagrids huge, hairy face was swimming above Harry, blocking out the

stars. Harry could smell burnt wood and dog hair; he put out a hand

and felt Fang's reassuringly warm and alive body quivering beside him.

"I'm all right," panted Harry. "Are you?"

"'Course I am… take more'n that ter finish me."

Hagrid put his hands under Harry's arms and raised him up with such

force that Harry's feet momentarily left the ground before Hagrid set

him upright again. He could see blood trickling down Hagrid's cheek

from a deep cut under one eye, which was swelling rapidly.

"We should put out your house," said Harry, "the charm's

'Aguamenti'…"

"Knew it was summat like that," mumbled Hagrid, and he raised a

smoldering pink, flowery umbrella and said, "Aguamenti!"

A jet of water flew out of the umbrella tip. Harry raised his wand arm,

which felt like lead, and murmured "Aguamenti" too: Together, he and

Hagrid poured water on the house until the last flame was

extinguished.

"S'not too bad," said Hagrid hopefully a few minutes later, looking at

the smoking wreck. "Nothin Dumbledore won' be able to put righ'…"

"Oh dear," said Minerva, "he doesn't know, that poor man, he is going to be

devastated."

Harry felt a searing pain in his stomach at the sound of the name. In

the silence and the stillness, horror rose inside him.

"Hagrid…"

"I was bindin' up a couple o' bowtruckle legs when I heard 'em

coming," said Hagrid sadly, still staring at his wrecked cabin. "They'll

bin burnt ter twigs, poor little things…"

"That is one thing I love about Hagrid," said Hermione with a smile, "he

may have just lost all his worldly possessions and his home, but he is still

concerned about others, even if they are just bowtruckles."

"Hagrid…"

"But what happened, Harry? I jus' saw them Death Eaters runnin

down from the castle, but what the ruddy hell was Snape doin' with

'em? Where's he gone — was he chasin' them?"

"Apparently Hagrid didn't get the whole Snape is a traitor owl," said Remus

dryly, however the barb was still clear, despite the airy tone used.

"He…" Harry cleared his throat; it was dry from panic and the smoke.

"Hagrid, he killed…"

"Killed?" said Hagrid loudly, staring down at Harry. "Snape killed?

What're yeh on abou' Harry?"

"Dumbledore," said Harry. "Snape killed… Dumbledore."

"Don't remind me," muttered Snape to himself, thankfully no one heard

him.

Hagrid simply looked at him, the little of his face that could be seen

completely blank, uncomprehending.

"Dumbledore wha, Harry?"

"He's dead. Snape killed him…"

"once again he is making me feel so special and good about myself, just

what every teen wants, to be told they are going to grow up to be bitter and

a murderer, that is something to write about for your careers advice,"

murmured Snape, apparently deciding that talking to himself was better for

his ego than hearing the thinly veiled barbs of those around him.

"Don' say that," said Hagrid roughly. "Snape kill Dumbledore — don'

be stupid, Harry. Wha's made yeh say tha'?"

"The fact the he saw it happen perhaps?" asked James sarcastically.

"I saw it happen."

"Family resemblance anyone?" asked Alice.

"Yeh couldn' have."

"I saw it, Hagrid."

Hagrid shook his head; his expression was disbelieving but

sympathetic, and Harry knew that Hagrid thought he had sustained a

blow to the head, that he was confused, perhaps by the after-effects of a

jinx…

"What musta happened was, Dumbledore musta told Snape ter go with

them Death Eaters," Hagrid said confidently. "I suppose he's gotta

keep his cover. Look, let's get yeh back up ter the school. Come on,

Harry…"

"Seems Hagrid is a fan of denial," said Lily sympathetically.

"He isn't the only one," pointed out Sirius sending Lily a loaded glance.

Harry did not attempt to argue or explain. He was still shaking

uncontrollably. Hagrid would find out soon enough, too soon… As they

directed their steps back toward the castle, Harry saw that many of its

windows were lit now. He could imagine, clearly, the scenes inside as

people moved from room to room, telling each other that Death Eaters

had got in, that the Mark was shining over Hogwarts, that somebody

must have been killed…

The oak front doors stood open ahead of them, light flooding out onto

the drive and the lawn. Slowly, uncertainly, dressing-gowned people

were creeping down the steps, looking around nervously for some sign

of the Death Eaters who had fled into the night. Harry's eyes, however,

were fixed upon the ground at the foot of the tallest tower. He imagined

that he could see a black, huddled mass lying in the grass there, though

he was really too far away to see anything of the sort. Even as he stared

wordlessly at the place where he thought Dumbledore's body must lie,

however, he saw people beginning to move toward it.

"What're they all lookin' at?" said Hagrid, as he and Harry

approached the castle front, Fang keeping as close as he could to their

ankles. "Wha's that lyin' on the grass?" Hagrid added sharply, heading

now toward the foot of the Astronomy Tower, where a small crowd was

congregating. "See it, Harry? Right at the foot of the tower? Under

where the Mark… Blimey… yeh don' think someone got thrown —?"

Hagrid fell silent, the thought apparently too horrible to express aloud.

Harry walked alongside him, feeling the aches and pains in his face and

his legs where the various hexes of the last half hour had hit him,

though in an oddly detached way, as though somebody near him was

suffering them. What was real and inescapable was the awful pressing

feeling in his chest… He and Hagrid moved, dreamlike, through the

murmuring crowd to the very front, where the dumbstruck students

and teachers had left a gap.

Harry heard Hagrid's moan of pain and shock, but he did not stop; he

walked slowly forward until he reached the place where Dumbledore

lay and crouched down beside him. He had known there was no hope

from the moment that the full Body-Bind Curse Dumbledore had

placed upon him lifted, known that it could have happened only

because its caster was dead, but there was still no preparation for

seeing him here, spread-eagled, broken: the greatest wizard Harry had

ever, or would ever, meet.

"That is the problem with denial," said Sirius sagely, "it can't last forever,

and the further in you are the more painful it is when you are forced to face

reality."

Dumbledore's eyes were closed; but for the strange angle of his arms

and legs, he might have been sleeping. Harry reached out, straightened

the half-moon spectacles upon the crooked nose, and wiped a trickle of

blood from the mouth with his own sleeve. Then he gazed down at the

wise old face and tried to absorb the enormous and incomprehensible

truth: that never again would Dumbledore speak to him, never again

could he help …

The crowd murmured behind Harry. After what seemed like a long

time, he became aware that he was kneeling upon something hard and

looked down. The locket they had managed to steal so many hours

before had fallen out of Dumbledore's pocket.

"I forgot about that," said Alice, "hopefully it will be worth it."

It had opened, perhaps due to the force with which it hit the ground.

And although he could not feel more shock or horror or sadness than

he felt already, Harry knew, as he picked it up, that there was

something wrong …

"What could it be?" asked Lily, starting to sound distressed

He turned the locket over in his hands. This was neither as large as the

locket he remembered seeing in the Pensieve, nor were there any

markings upon it, no sign of the ornate S that was supposed to be

Slytherins mark. Moreover, there was nothing inside but for a scrap of

folded parchment wedged tightly into the place where a portrait should

have been.

"You mean this isn't even the real locket?" asked James, "so all this... the

headmaster's death was for nothing?"

Hermione nodded sadly

Automatically, without really thinking about what he was doing, Harry

pulled out the fragment of parchment, opened it, and read by the light

of the many wands that had now been lit behind him:

To the Dark Lord

I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know

that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux

and intend to destroy it as soon as I can.

I face death in the hope that when you meet your match you will be

mortal once more.

R.A.B.

Harry neither knew nor cared what the message meant. Only one thing

mattered: This was not a Horcrux. Dumbledore had weakened himself

by drinking that terrible potion for nothing. Harry crumpled the

parchment in his hand, and his eyes burned with tears as behind him

Fang began to howl.

Silence and shock filled the room, no seemed to know what to say. The

whole room was caught up in the horror of the seemingly now pointless

death that they missed two brothers' eyes making contacting and

simultaneously widening as realisation struck.

AN: Thanks for reading, please review! Cheers!

29. Chapter 29

The Pheonix Lament

AN: Hello! Yes I am alive... funnily enough, I was beginning to doubt that

myself :) I know that this took me a ridiculously long time to post and I

promise that the final chapter won't take anywhere near as long. However

unfortunately real life is always a priority of the wonderful world of fiction,

despite however much we might wish it to be otherwise. A brief

explanation for the delay is that I was working ridiculously long hours for

about six months, and then took a different job and moved overseas. Good

fun! I hope you all enjoy this latest instalment and I promise to have book

six finished by Christmas. Cheers!

PS: as usual I own nothing which anyone can recognise.

"Why can't anything ever be simple?" asked Remus, "who in Merlin's name

is R A B?"

A few people looked at Hermione for an answer.

"It took us over two months to figure it out, so there is no way I am telling

you... work it out yourself," said Hermione.

"Fine we will," said James, "I bet it won't take us two months."

"Well R A B could be a number of things, it could be a person's initials, a

nickname, an acronym or a codename," said Frank thinking it through.

"Who would have Rab for a nickname? It is quite tacky," said James.

"Isn't that very much the pot calling the cauldron black, Prongs?" pointed

out Remus wryly.

"What about Rabastan Lestrange, that could be shortened to Rab as a

nickname," pointed out Alice.

"I don't think it would be him though," pointed out Remus, looking through

some of the notes he had taken during the previous books, "I have it noted

that he was one of the ones convicted alongside Rudolphus, Bellatrix and

Crouch Jnr, for what happened to Longbottom and Smith in the future,

which does not sound like the note writer, who was disenchanted with

Voldie and wanted to destroy him."

"Well cross that off the list then, one person down, 6 billion possibilities to

go. Thanks for the pleasant reminder by the way Lupin, just what we

needed and reminder of just how rosy our future is looking," said Alice.

"Professor Dumbledore, how is RAB spelt, is it one word, or all separate

letters?" asked Lily.

"All individual capital letters with full stops separating them, Ms Evans,"

answered Albus, he was curious to see how they would work it out, he

himself would put his money on Regulus Black as the author however,

which he felt fit in with not only the letters, but also the young man's

personality and attitude, not to mention his presence in the room.

"I guess that leaves code, acronym or initials as the most likely then, if it

was a nickname or name it would probably be all one word," pointed out

Lily, who then turned to Severus and asked in a somewhat colder tone of

voice, "what do you think Severus?"

Severus raised an eyebrow at the tone and use of full name, obviously Lily

was moving from disappointed in him to angry at him, he figured an

explosion of rage would probably not be too far off if she kept true to form,

so in order distract her from focusing on those thoughts which would be

detrimental to his health and ability to bear children, he decided to answer.

"From what we know of the dark lord, the horcruxes are his most precious

secret so very few people would know about them if any, so in order to

figure it out the author would have to be close to the Dark Lord, so most

likely an inner circle death eater."

"Well then, put your death eater knowledge to good use and tell us who it

is!" said Remus, with a slight growl.

"Firstly," said Severus pointedly, glaring at Remus, "I am not a death eater

yet, secondly do you really think that the dark lord publishes and distributes

a member's list complete with phone numbers at every death eaters meeting,

because that it the usual modus operandi of paranoid bastards."

"So probably a person whose initials are R A B, and has the potential to be

a death eater."

"Rex Burton?"

"His middle name is Henry," said Alice, "besides it would probably have to

be someone with a higher level of intelligence than the droppings of a

drunken doxy."

"What about that Burns guy who graduated Slytherin a few years back?"

suggested James.

"Again with the generalisations Potter, secondly you must have the

intelligence, if not the memory of the droppings of a drunken doxy, to quote

Smith, because his first name was Kevin," said Severus.

"Roger Brown?" suggested Frank, "he graduated Ravenclaw the same year

as Lucius Malfoy and that lot. There is also Rachael Parkinson, who

married Thomas Archer-Binchley."

"It couldn't be Rachel," said Alice with a snort.

"Why not, I thought you girls would be all over the feminist side of it,

saying that a female would be just as capable if not more so of pulling off

such a stunt," said James.

"Are you implying that we aren't capable?" asked Lily in a slightly

dangerous voice.

"Of course not Lily-Flower," said James quickly.

"Good, besides we aren't debating the fact that a girl could do it, just that

particular girl," said Lily.

"Why not?"

"Because navigating a cave full of inferi would risk messing up her hair,"

said Alice.

"What do you think Paddy?" asked James, "you have been unusually quiet,

usually you are in the middle of a fray and situation like this, but you

haven't said a thing, are you alright?"

"I don't need to guess," said Sirius, silently communicating with his brother,

"I already know who it is."

At that statement every eye in the room was on Sirius.

"Well who in Merlin's name is it?" asked James impatiently.

"Let me introduce my brother, Regulus Arcturus Black."

Everyone's heads moved to the other Black brother so fast that you would

almost swear that they must have received whiplash.

"Hi, I'm Regulus Black, I like bubble baths, Indian food and long walks on

the beach," said Regulus, using his sense of humour as a method of

diffusing the rather loaded silence which filled the room. Alice was the first

to recover.

"I didn't realise you swung that way, considering how close he and Potter

are, I always thought that Sirius would be the one who enjoyed stirring his

cauldron the other way. But then again after swimming with a lake of dead

corpses you probably have earned yourself a bubblebath," she said.

"Thanks for the reminder," said Regulus with a wince, he was trying not to

think about that lovely lake of inferi, as it was enough to make him want to

throw up or pass out, neither of which he really wanted to do. Inferi and the

whole dead body thing was more than enough to give him the creeps. He

couldn't help but admire fate's sense of humour though, as Sirius' biggest

fear or freak-out factor had always been dementors, and he spent 12 years

in Az, while Regulus had a weakness about dead bodies and inferi and most

likely got to go swimming with them (and was most likely murdered by

them, but that was another thing he didn't want to think about.)

"I can't believed we missed that, it fits perfectly," said Frank, who felt like

an utter imbecile for missing an answer that was literally sitting right in

front of them, "I mean apart from the whole name thing, Black is a death

eater, most likely will be fairly high ranking due to his family connections,

obviously clued in enough to discover the horcruxes as he was one of the

ones who figured them out in pretty much the first book, and he is not only

sitting in the room, but he doesn't seem the be the most loyal death eater

around."

"Why thank you for talking about me like I am not here, could we move on

please, I am finding this conversation somewhat awkward," said Regulus,

not particularly comfortable in the spotlight and under such close scrutiny.

"Thank you for that reminder Mr Black, perhaps it would be time to read

another chapter," interjected the headmaster smoothly, are you ready to read

now Ms Evans?"

"I would rather not if it is all the same, so can we just skip me and maybe

let James read instead and we can continue round."

'Very well," said Minerva, "is that alright with you Mr Potter? Mr Potter!"

James had been staring at the younger Black intently and had his head of

house's words did not register the first time round, causing him to start

when he heard his name called.

"What, sorry, yes of course I can read, would you like me to start now?"

"Yes please Mr Potter," said Minerva, as Albus passed the book on to his

headboy.

"The Phoenix Lament" read out James, and slowly everyone's attention

began to slowly slide across to James and the newest chapter.

"C 'mere, Harry…"

"No."

"Yeh can' stay here, Harry… Come on, now…"

"No."

He did not want to leave Dumbledore's side, he did not want to move

anywhere. Hagrid's hand on his shoulder was trembling. Then another

voice said, "Harry, come on." A much smaller and warmer hand had

enclosed his and was pulling him upward.

"Ladies and gentlemen you are witnessing the all surpassing magic of a

woman's touch," announced Alice.

"How do you know it is a girl, for all you know it could be anyone, after all

everyone has smaller hands than Hagrid," pointed out Frank.

"Grawp wouldn't," pointed out Alice.

Frank opened his mouth to respond, but decided against it, there were times

when it was pointless to argue with Alice, as much as he loved her she was

enough to do his head in at times.

He obeyed its pressure without really thinking about it. Only as he

walked blindly back through the crowd did he realize, from a trace of

flowery scent on the air, that it was Ginny who was leading him back

into the castle.

"Told you so!" said Alice.

"Of course with your firm grasp on reality, no one would ever think to

question your sanity," said Severus dryly.

Incomprehensible voices battered him, sobs and shouts and wails

stabbed the night, but Harry and Ginny walked on, back up the steps

into the entrance hall. Faces swam on the edges of Harry's vision,

people were peering at him, whispering, wondering, and Gryffindor

rubies glistened on the floor like drops of blood as they made their way

toward the marble staircase.

"We're going to the hospital wing," said Ginny.

"I'm not hurt," said Harry.!

"But others probably are, besides a calming potion probably wouldn't do

him any harm," said Remus.

"It's McGonagalls orders," said Ginny. "Everyone's up there, Ron and

Hermione and Lupin and everyone —"

Fear stirred in Harry's chest again: He had forgotten the inert figures

he had left behind.

"Ginny, who else is dead?"

"Don't worry, none of us."

"But the Dark Mark — Malfoy said he stepped over a body —"

"He stepped over Bill, but its all right, he's alive."

"Did anyone else notice that she said 'alive' in stead of 'alright'?" asked

Remus.

"Yes we did, but thank you for pointing out the rather obvious discrepancy

in semantics," said Alice rolling her eyes.

"Wow, two words with more than 2 syllables in one sentence, my, aren't we

feeling smart today," said Remus, mocking Alice in return.

"Thank you children, Moony, I am disappointed in you, I thought you were

meant to be the mature one!" said James with mock outrage in his voice.

"No that would be you, Mr Head Boy," retorted Remus.

"Moving on," said Lily testily, clearing her throat.

There was something in her voice, however, that Harry knew boded ill.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure… he's a — a bit of a mess, that's all. Greyback

attacked him.

Remus and the rest of the room collectively winced.

"What will happen to him since Greyback wasn't transformed?" asked

James, looking at Remus.

"Why is everyone looking at me?" asked Remus.

"You are the one with the most expertise in that area," pointed out Frank,

"personal experience and all."

"Yes, but it is not like I go around biting people at different stages of the

lunar cycle just to see what happens," replied Remus.

"That's not what Heidi Wilson said," said Alice with a knowing smirk and a

meaningful look at Remus which made the werewolf extremely

uncomfortable, as evidenced by the blush creeping up his cheeks.

Madam Pomfrey says he won't — won't look the same anymore…"

Ginny's voice trembled a little.

"We don't really know what the aftereffects will be — I mean,

Greyback being a werewolf, but not transformed at the time."

"But the others… There were other bodies on the ground…"

"Neville and Professor Flitwick are both hurt, but Madam Pomfrey

says they'll be all right. And a Death Eater's dead, he got hit by a

Killing Curse that huge blond one was firing off everywhere — Harry,

if we hadn't had your Felix potion, I think we'd all have been killed,

but everything seemed to just miss us —"

"Thank Merlin for small blessing," said Lily.

"I disagree," said Hermione, "it was a rather large blessing."

They had reached the hospital wing. Pushing open the doors, Harry

saw Neville lying, apparently asleep, in a bed near the door. Ron,

Hermione, Luna, Tonks, and Lupin were gathered around another bed

near the far end of the ward. At the sound of the doors opening, they all

looked up. Hermione ran to Harry and hugged him; Lupin moved

forward too, looking anxious.

"Are you all right, Harry?"

"I'm fine… How's Bill?"

Nobody answered. Harry looked over Hermione's shoulder and saw an

unrecognizable face lying on Bill's pillow, so badly slashed and ripped

that he looked grotesque.

"Poor kid," said Lily shaking her head.

"Who are you calling a kid, he is older than you," pointed out Sirius.

"Stuff it Black," said Lily.

"She is so eloquent when she is in a temper," observed James.

"And you seem to lack the rudimentary brain cells not to annoy her during

those moments," commented Sirius.

"I have them, I choose to ignore them, it is more fun living life on the edge,

not knowing when the next hex will come flying," James then caught eye

contact with Lily, gave her a winning smile and turned back to the book.

Madam Pomfrey was dabbing at his wounds with some harsh-smelling

green ointment. Harry remembered how Snape had mended Malfoy's

Sectumsempra wounds so easily with his wand.

"Can't you fix them with a charm or something?" he asked the matron.

"No charm will work on these," said Madam Pomfrey. "I've tried

everything I know, but there is no cure for werewolf bites."

"But he wasn't bitten at the full moon," said Ron, who was gazing

down into his brother's face as though he could somehow force him to

mend just by staring. "Greyback hadn't transformed, so surely Bill

won't be a — a real —?"

He looked uncertainly at Lupin.

"No, I don't think that Bill will be a true werewolf," said Lupin, "but

that does not mean that there won't be some contamination. Those are

cursed wounds. They are unlikely ever to heal fully, and — and Bill

might have some wolfish characteristics from now on."

"Dumbledore might know something that'd work, though," Ron said.

"Oh crap," said Frank, "they don't know, things are going to get awkward."

"That is the understatement of the century," commented James.

"Where is he? Bill fought those maniacs on Dumbledore's orders,

Dumbledore owes him, he can't leave him in this state -"

"Ron — Dumbledores dead," said Ginny.

"Way to break it to them slowly," said Frank.

"It could be worse," pointed out Alice, "you could say that he kicked the

cauldron, is pushing up daisies, became flobberworm feed..."

"That is quite enough Ms Smith," scolded Professor McGonagall.

"No!" Lupin looked wildly from Ginny to Harry, as though hoping the

latter might contradict her, but when Harry did not, Lupin collapsed

into a chair beside Bill's bed, his hands over his face. Harry had never

seen Lupin lose control before; he felt as though he was intruding upon

something private, indecent. He turned away and caught Ron's eye

instead, exchanging in silence a look that confirmed what Ginny had

said.

"How did he die?" whispered Tonks. "How did it happen?"

"So worm anyone?" asked Alice, "a whole of them has just been opened for

your enjoyment."

"Trust me , it wasn't for anyone's enjoyment," said Hermione.

"Snape killed him," said Harry. "I was there, I saw it. We arrived back

on the Astronomy Tower because that's where the Mark was…

Dumbledore was ill, he was weak, but I think he realized it was a trap

when we heard footsteps running up the stairs. He immobilized me, I

couldn't do anything, I was under the Invisibility Cloak — and then

Malfoy came through the door and disarmed him —"

Hermione clapped her hands to her mouth and Ron groaned.

"You have no idea how guilty I felt at that moment," said Hermione sadly

putting her face in her hands for one moment, "he just proved himself right

and I felt so guilty for not trusting him and his instincts, as they have never

lead us wrong before, if only we had believed him about Draco we could

have prevented so much more, we could have stunned him before he even

made it to the astronomy tower, we didn't think he was dangerous so we

didn't put all our effort into stopping him, but if he never went up there so

much more of this could have been prevented."

"Don't beat yourself up Hermione," said Remus, giving her a comforting pat

of on the shoulder, however while the werewolf's voice was somewhat

soothing there was a menacing quality underneath it that made Hermione

shiver slightly, "yes you screwed up a bit, but ultimately you can't control

the actions of others, it was Draco's choice to join a psychopath and

conspire to murder an innocent man. You did not kill Professor

Dumbledore, that honour fell to someone else in this room."

"Thank you... I think," said Hermione tentatively with a small smile and the

werewolf, she then turned and gave a reproving look to the younger Black

brother who was glaring at Remus.

Luna's mouth trembled.

"— more Death Eaters arrived — and then Snape — and Snape did it.

The Avada Kedavra." Harry couldn't go on.

Madam Pomfrey burst into tears. Nobody paid her any attention

except Ginny, who whispered, "Shh! Listen!"

Gulping, Madam Pomfrey pressed her fingers to her mouth, her eyes

wide. Somewhere out in the darkness, a phoenix was singing in a way

Harry had never heard before: a stricken lament of terrible beauty.

And Harry felt, as he had felt about phoenix song before, that the

music was inside him, not without: It was his own grief turned

magically to song that echoed across the grounds and through the castle

windows.

"The phoenix is a truly amazing creature," said Albus, "I feel very blessed

to have had the companionship of Fawkes. Why, I remember when I first

got him as a hatchling, I was in London at the time and had just had a

meeting with the muggle government in Westminster, he had little puff of

fire and sparks flying, it reminded me of what muggles call fireworks, but

in a miniature form, and after seeing that I was reminded of a peculiar

muggle name Guy Fawkes, who decided to try and blow up the muggle

parliament in the 17th Century..."

Minerva cleared her throat, "Albus," she said warningly.

"Of course my apologies, it is a truly interesting story, but perhaps Mr

Potter should continue with the one we have, which is equally as

fascinating," said Albus with a serene smile.

"I swear he must be the only man who can be sidetracked when talking

about his own death," murmured Alice to Frank.

"I think he is doing to diffuse some of the murderous tension in the room,"

replied Frank in an undertone.

"I am sure he is, but still."

How long they all stood there, listening, he did not know, nor why it

seemed to ease their pain a little to listen to the sound of their

mourning, but it felt like a long time later that the hospital door opened

again and Professor McGonagall entered the ward. Like all the rest,

she bore marks of the recent battle: There were grazes on her face and

her robes were ripped.

"Molly and Arthur are on their way," she said, and the spell of the

music was broken: Everyone roused themselves as though coming out

of trances, turning again to look at Bill, or else to rub their own eyes

shake their heads. "Harry, what happened? According to Hagrid you

were with Professor Dumbledore when he — when it happened. He

says Professor Snape was involved in some —"

"Involved is the understatement of the century," said Lily frostily.

Severus snorted, Lily was definitely moving from disappointed to angry, he

had a feeling she would explode soon.

"Snape killed Dumbledore," said Harry.

She stared at him for a moment, then swayed alarmingly; Madam

Pomfrey, who seemed to have pulled herself together, ran forward,

conjuring a chair from thin air, which she pushed under McGonagall.

"Snape," repeated McGonagall faintly, falling into the chair. "We all

wondered… but he trusted… always… Snape… I can't believe it…"

"Snape was a highly accomplished Occlumens," said Lupin, his voice

uncharacteristically harsh. "We always knew that."

"But Dumbledore swore he was on our side!" whispered Tonks. "I

always thought Dumbledore must know something about Snape that

we didn't…"

"He always hinted that he had an ironclad reason for trusting Snape,"

muttered Professor McGonagall, now dabbing at the corners of her

leaking eyes with a tartan-edged handkerchief. "I mean… with Snapes

history… of course people were bound to wonder… but Dumbledore

told me explicitly that Snape's repentance was absolutely genuine —

Wouldn't hear a word against him!"

"I'd love to know what Snape told him to convince him," said Tonks.

"I know," said Harry, and they all turned to look at him. "Snape passed

Voldemort the information that made Voldemort hunt down my mum

and dad. Then Snape told Dumbledore he hadn't realized what he was

doing, he was really sorry he'd done it, sorry that they were dead."

"I wouldn't be surprised if there was a little more to that story," murmured

Regulus to Hermione, who shrugged non-committed, not willing to give

away any further hints.

They all stared at him.

"And Dumbledore believed that?" said Lupin incredulously.

"Dumbledore believed Snape was sorry James was dead? Snape hated

James…"

"Too right, but you seem to be forgetting another key person from that

equation," said Severus under his breath.

"And he didn't think my mother was worth a damn either," said Harry,

"because she was Muggle-born… 'Mudblood,' he called her…"

"There was a lot more to the relationship than that one incident," point out

Regulus to Hermione.

"We know that now, but how would Harry know that at the time he has only

seen one interaction between his parents and that did not paint a very good

picture of their relationship," replied Hermione.

Nobody asked how Harry knew this. All of them seemed to be lost in

horrified shock, trying to digest the monstrous truth of what had

happened.

"This is all my fault," said Professor McGonagall suddenly. She looked

disoriented, twisting her wet handkerchief in her hands. "My fault. I

sent Filius to fetch Snape tonight, I actually sent for him to come and

help us! If I hadn't alerted Snape to what was going on, he might never

have joined forces with the Death Eaters. I don't think he knew they

were there before Filius told him, I don't think he knew they were

coming."

"It isn't your fault, Minerva," said Lupin firmly. "We all wanted more

help, we were glad to think Snape was on his way…"

"So when he arrived at the fight, he joined in on the Death Eaters'

side?" asked Harry, who wanted every detail of Snape's duplicity and

infamy, feverishly collecting more reasons to hate him, to swear

vengeance.

"Oh what fun," said Severus sarcastically, "another Potter who wants to kill

me, what a joyous life I have."

"Well you should have thought about that before you murdered someone

then, shouldn't you!" replied Lily angrily. Hermione yelped in shock as one

of the wands next to her suddenly flared and produced some red sparks, a

testimony to how angry Lily was now feeling.

"I don't know exactly how it happened," said Professor McGonagall

distractedly. "It's all so confusing… Dumbledore had told us that he

would be leaving the school for a few hours and that we were to patrol

the corridors just in case… Remus, Bill, and Nymphadora were to join

us… and so we patrolled. All seemed quiet. Every secret passageway

out of the school was covered. We knew nobody could fly in. There

were powerful enchantments on every entrance into the castle. I still

don't know how the Death Eaters can possibly have entered…"

"I do," said Harry, and he explained, briefly, about the pair of

Vanishing Cabinets and the magical pathway they formed. "So they got

in through the Room of Requirement."

Almost against his will he glanced from Ron to Hermione, both of

whom looked devastated.

"What happened?" Alice asked, looking at Hermione.

"I think we are about to find out," said James, which saved Hermione from

having to explain.

"I messed up, Harry," said Ron bleakly. "We did like you told us: We

checked the Marauder's Map and we couldn't see Malfoy on it, so we

thought he must be in the Room of Requirement, so me, Ginny, and

Neville went to keep watch on it… but Malfoy got past us."

"He came out of the room about an hour after we started keeping

watch," said Ginny. "He was on his own, clutching that awful

shrivelled arm —"

"His Hand of Glory," said Ron. "Gives light only to the holder,

remember?"

"Anyway," Ginny went on, "he must have been checking whether the

coast was clear to let the Death Eaters out, because the moment he saw

us he threw something into the air and it all went pitch-black —"

"— Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder," said Ron bitterly. "Fred and

George's. I'm going to be having a word with them about who they let

buy their products."

"We tried everything, Lumos, Incendio," said Ginny. "Nothing would

penetrate the darkness; all we could do was grope our way out of the

corridor again, and meanwhile we could hear people rushing past us.

Obviously Malfoy could see because of that hand thing and was guiding

them, but we didn't dare use any curses or anything in case we hit each

other, and by the time we'd reached a corridor that was light, they'd

gone."

"Luckily," said Lupin hoarsely, "Ron, Ginny, and Neville ran into us

almost immediately and told us what had happened. We found the

Death Eaters minutes later, heading in the direction of the Astronomy

Tower. Malfoy obviously hadn't expected more people to be on the

watch; he seemed to have exhausted his supply of Darkness Powder, at

any rate.

A fight broke out, they scattered and we gave chase. One of them,

Gibbon, broke away and headed up the tower stairs -"

"To set off the Mark?" asked Harry.

"He must have done, yes, they must have arranged that before they left

the Room of Requirement," said Lupin. "But I don't think Gibbon

liked the idea of waiting up there alone for Dumbledore, because he

came running back downstairs to rejoin the fight and was hit by a

Killing Curse that just missed me."

"So if Ron was watching the Room of Requirement with Ginny and

Neville," said Harry, turning to Hermione, "were you —?"

"Outside Snape's office, yes," whispered Hermione, her eyes sparkling

with tears, "with Luna. We hung around for ages outside it and

nothing happened… We didn't know what was going on upstairs, Ron

had taken the map — It was nearly midnight when Professor Flitwick

came sprinting down into the dungeons. He was shouting about Death

Eaters in the castle, I don't think he really registered that Luna and I

were there at all, he just burst his way into Snape's office and we heard

him saying that Snape had to go back with him and help and then we

heard a loud thump and Snape came hurtling out of his room and he

saw us and — and —"

"What?" Harry urged her.

"I was so stupid, Harry!" said Hermione in a high-pitched whisper.

"He said Professor Flitwick had collapsed and that we should go and

take care of him while he — while he went to help fight the Death

Eaters —" She covered her face in shame and continued to talk into

her fingers, so that her voice was muffled. "We went into his office to

see if we could help Professor Flitwick and found him unconscious on

the floor… and oh, it's so obvious now, Snape must have Stupefied

Flitwick, but we didn't realize, Harry, we didn't realize, we just let

Snape go!"

"It's not your fault," said Lupin firmly. "Hermione, had you not

obeyed Snape and got out of the way, he probably would have killed

you and Luna."

Severus glared at the present day Lupin, he resented the implication that he

would murder defenceless, innocent children, who he was charged with

protecting. He may have been a lot of things in that future, a bastard, a

murderer and death eater, however he would rather turn his own wand on

himself before he killed or inflicted serious harm on a child.

"So then he came upstairs," said Harry, who was watching Snape

running up the marble staircase in his mind's eye, his black robes

billowing behind him as ever, pulling his wand from under his cloak as

he ascended, "and he found the place where you were all fighting…"

"We were in trouble, we were losing," said Tonks in a low voice.

"Gibbon was down, but the rest of the Death Eaters seemed ready to

fight to the death. Neville had been hurt, Bill had been savaged by

Greyback… It was all dark… curses flying everywhere… The Malfoy

boy had vanished, he must have slipped past, up the stairs… then more

of them ran after him, but one of them blocked the stair behind them

with some kind of curse… Neville ran at it and got thrown up into the

air —"

"None of us could break through," said Ron, "and that massive Death

Eater was still firing off jinxes all over the place, they were bouncing

off the walls and barely missing us…"

"And then Snape was there," said Tonks, "and then he wasn't —"

"I saw him running toward us, but that huge Death Eaters jinx just

missed me right afterward and I ducked and lost track of things," said

Ginny.

"I saw him run straight through the cursed barrier as though it wasn't

there," said Lupin. "I tried to follow him, but was thrown back just

like Neville…"

"It would have been a ward, specifically tied to the dark mark, you would

either need a dark mark to get through or someone who could bring down

the entire ward itself, if Bill was awake he might have been able to do it, it

would have been part of his training as a curse breaker," explained Sirius.

"Or if Bella hadn't offed you in the previous book you probably could take

it down yourself," pointed out Regulus, "even as a kid you took to warding

and runes like no one else could, if someone was able to cover you in battle

you probably could have dealt with it in a couple of minutes."

Sirius didn't deny the praise, "it would depend on what type of ward it was

and who designed it, as depending on the style it could vary in how long it

takes to bring down a ward."

"I knew you were talented in transfiguration and liked runes, but I didn't

realise you were so talented at it, no one hinted about it at all" said

Hermione in awe.

"I wouldn't be surprised if Sirius' death and the Dept of Mysteries was not

as unplanned as we thought," said Frank thinking for a moment, "because

surely He-who-has-two-many-names must have been told that Sirius would

come the moment Harry was in trouble, so it could have been a plot to kill

Sirius as much as it was to kill Harry, after all with some of Sirius' talents

which even as a Ravenclaw I am quite in awe of at the moment, must have

improved so it was probably a goal of the death eater to actually eliminate

Sirius as well."

"Never really thought about it in that way to be honest," admitted

Hermione.

"He must have known a spell we didn't," whispered McGonagall.

"After all — he was the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher… I just

assumed that he was in a hurry to chase after the Death Eaters who'd

escaped up to the tower…"

"He was," said Lily with a glare at Severus, "just not for the reasons you

expected."

"He was," said Harry savagely, "but to help them, not to stop them…

and I'll bet you had to have a Dark Mark to get through that barrier —

so what happened when he came back down?"

"Well, the big Death Eater had just fired off a hex that caused half the

ceiling to fall in, and also broke the curse blocking the stairs," said

Lupin. "We all ran forward — those of us who were still standing

anyway — and then Snape and the boy emerged out of the dust —

obviously, none of us attacked them —"

"We just let them pass," said Tonks in a hollow voice. "We thought they

were being chased by the Death Eaters — and next thing, the other

Death Eaters and Greyback were back and we were fighting again — I

thought I heard Snape shout something, but I don't know what —"

"He shouted, 'It's over,'" said Harry. "He'd done what he'd meant to

do."

They all fell silent. Fawkes's lament was still echoing over the dark

grounds outside. As the music reverberated upon the air, unbidden,

unwelcome thoughts slunk into Harry's mind… Had they taken

Dumbledore's body from the foot of the tower yet? What would happen

to it next? Where would it rest? He clenched his fists tightly in his

pockets. He could feel the small cold lump of the fake Horcrux against

the knuckles of his right hand.

The doors of the hospital wing burst open, making them all jump: Mr.

and Mrs. Weasley were striding up the ward, Fleur just behind them,

her beautiful face terrified.

"Molly — Arthur —" said Professor McGonagall, jumping up and

hurrying to greet them. "I am so sorry —"

"Bill," whispered Mrs. Weasley, darting past Professor McGonagall as

she caught sight of Bill's mangled face. "Oh, Bill!"

Lupin and Tonks had got up hastily and retreated so that Mr. and Mrs.

Weasley could get nearer to the bed. Mrs. Weasley bent over her son

and pressed her lips to his bloody forehead.

"You said Greyback attacked him?" Mr. Weasley asked Professor

McGonagall distractedly. "But he hadn't transformed? So what does

that mean? What will happen to Bill?"

"We don't yet know," said Professor McGonagall, looking helplessly at

Lupin.

"Of course, everyone stare at the werewolf," muttered Lupin under his

breath.

"Once again it is kind of your area of expertise Moons," pointed out Sirius

wryly.

"There will probably be some contamination, Arthur," said Lupin. "It

is an odd case, possibly unique… We don't know what his behaviour

might be like when he awakens…"

Mrs. Weasley took the nasty-smelling ointment from Madam Pomfrey

and began dabbing at Bill's wounds.

"And Dumbledore…" said Mr. Weasley. "Minerva, is it true… Is he

really…?"

As Professor McGonagall nodded, Harry felt Ginny move beside him

and looked at her. Her slightly narrowed eyes were fixed upon Fleur,

who was gazing down at Bill with a frozen expression on her face.

"Dumbledore gone," whispered Mr. Weasley, but Mrs. Weasley had

eyes only for her eldest son; she began to sob, tears falling onto Bill's

mutilated face.

"Of course, it doesn't matter how he looks… It's not r-really

important… but he was a very handsome little b-boy… always very

handsome… and he was g-going to be married!"

"And what do you mean by zat?" said Fleur suddenly and loudly.

"What do you mean, 'he was going to be married?'"

"Oh dear," said Alice, "I don't think that is the right thing to say to a

stressed out veela."

"You theenk Bill will not wish to marry me anymore?" demanded

Fleur. "You theenk, because of these bites, he will not love me?"

"I think she was thinking the other way round," said Lily.

"No, that's not what I —"

"Because 'e will!" said Fleur, drawing herself up to her full height and

throwing back her long mane of silver hair. "It would take more zan a

werewolf to stop Bill loving me!"

"Well, yes, I'm sure," said Mrs. Weasley, "but I thought perhaps —

given how — how he —"

"You thought I would not weesh to marry him? Or per'aps, you

hoped?" said Fleur, her nostrils flaring. "What do I care how he looks?

I am good-looking enough for both of us, I theenk! All these scars show

is zat my husband is brave! And I shall do zat!" she added fiercely,

pushing Mrs. Weasley aside and snatching the ointment from her.

"If you think about it, for Fleur to marry Bill, it would have had to have

been love, after all she is from a wealthy French family and is a veela, so

she could probably choose any rich man in Europe if she wanted to, but

instead she chose Bill, who despite being an awesome guy and the apple of

his mother's eye, has never been such a great match on paper or someone

who you would be aiming to trap into marriage under false pretences," said

Hermione.

Mrs. Weasley fell back against her husband and watched Fleur

mopping up Bill's wounds with a most curious expression upon her

face. Nobody said anything; Harry did not dare move. Like everybody

else, he was waiting for the explosion.

"Our Great-Auntie Muriel," said Mrs. Weasley after a long pause, "has

a very beautiful tiara — goblin-made — which I am sure I could

persuade her to lend you for the wedding. She is very fond of Bill, you

know, and it would look lovely with your hair."

"That wasn't very explosive," said Alice, "I'm depressed, I was hoping for

more fireworks."

"Because there hasn't been enough explosions already in this book?" asked

Remus.

"Thank you," said Fleur stiffly. "I am sure zat will be lovely."

And then, Harry did not quite see how it happened, both, women were

crying and hugging each other. Completely bewildered, wondering

whether the world had gone mad, he turned around: Ron looked as

stunned as he felt and Ginny and Hermione were exchanging startled

looks.

James looked down and suddenly snorted.

"What is so funny Prongs?" asked Sirius, wondering what brought about the

sudden sign of amusement in

"You see!" said a strained voice. Tonks was glaring at Lupin. "She still

wants to marry him, even though he's been bitten! She doesn't care!"

"It's different," said Lupin, barely moving his lips and looking

suddenly tense. "Bill will not be a full werewolf. The cases are

completely —"

"But I don't care either, I don't care!" said Tonks, seizing the front of

Lupin's robes and shaking them. "I've told you a million times…"

And the meaning of Tonks's Patronus and her mouse-colored hair, and

the reason she had come running to find Dumbledore when she had

heard a rumor someone had been attacked by Greyback, all suddenly

became clear to Harry; it had not been Sirius that Tonks had fallen in

love with after all.

"Well, well, well," smirked Alice with a devious grin on her face, the first

true sign of positive emotion, "seems we have a cradle snatcher in our

midst."

"I thought Lupin was meant to the normal, well-behaved one," added on

Frank.

"In that group there is no such thing," snorted Alice.

"Be careful Moons," said James, "those devious three year olds can be

dangerous."

Remus had the grace to blush at this attention... however he quickly lost all

colouring in his face when the next person spoke.

"Not just the so-called three year olds," said Sirius in a low voice containing

a faint growl, "her family is pretty dangerous too, especially if a certain

werewolf is upsetting their favourite cousin."

Remus gulped and looked around noticed that he had one angry animagus

on one side who had gone into guard dog mode, and his brother only one

person away on the other who was looking rather dangerous as well...

suddenly Remus' choice of seat was not looking quite so appealing...

actually come to think of it Australia was quite nice this time of year,

maybe he should go there.

Hermione smiled, "don't worry Remus they aren't going to kill you,"

suddenly the scene from Grimmauld Place when Remus said he was going

to abandon Tonks flashed in her mind, "well at least not yet anyway" she

added as an afterthought.

Remus wondered if the room would be so kind as to provide him with a

blackhole to escape from the two Black's glaring holes into him for

apparently hurting their cousin.

"Perhaps we should read on before Remus loses his Gryffindor courage and

runs off screaming into the sunset," said Alice, "by the way nice

intimidation techniques boys, did you know you have very similar 'I am

going to murder you and transfigure your body into a penguin' looks... must

be in the genes," suddenly Alice found herself being stared at, "okay

shutting up now."

"And I've told you a million times," said Lupin, refusing to meet her

eyes, staring at the floor, "that I am too old for you, too poor… too

dangerous…"

"I've said all along you're taking a ridiculous line on this, Remus," said

Mrs. Weasley over Fleur's shoulder as she patted her on the back.

"I don't know," said Regulus, "I don't think I would want him dating my

cousin."

"Our cousin," corrected Sirius, "and I completely agree."

Remus looked absolutely fluxomed at that statement, he didn't think Sirius

would have held any prejudices against him because of his furry little

problem.

"Please Moony," said Sirius derisively, accurately interpreting the look on

his friend's face, "you know bloody well that it has nothing to do with the

wererabbit syndrome, so don't look at me like that. Nym deserves someone

who will treat her right and not hide behind a pathetic excuse and refuse to

man up and face his fears and allow two of my favourite people to be

happy."

Remus cowered slightly at the pointed looks in his direction and tried to

defend his future self, "it isn't a pathetic excuse..."

Regulus snorted in disbelief, "are you calling our cousin stupid? By the

way, just so you know for future reference you shouldn't insult a girl around

her family as they could in fact be your potential in-laws."

"How did I call her stupid?" asked Remus indignantly.

"Nymphie is and will be a smart person," insisted Sirius, "do you really

think that she lacks the intelligence to grasp the fact that you are a lycan and

what that entails..."

"Especially considering her profession, as an auror she would have seen the

worst of what your kind can do, so if anyone could understand the so called

dangers of being with a werewolf, she could," continued Regulus, picking

up seamlessly.

"Therefore," continued Sirius, "by implying-"

"He didn't just imply it, he made it ridiculously clear in my opinion," butted

in Alice, who was mildly amused by the fact that the two brothers were

ganging up on the werewolf, who she had never seen turn so many different

colours (at least not without the aid of magic, as there was one time when

Peter Pettigrew turned his skin green and his hair fluro pink, but that was a

different story...)

"Why thank you Smith," said Remus, "you aren't exactly helping my cause

here."

"I know," grinned Alice, "why in Merlins name did you think I said it?"

"thank you Smith, but as I was saying, by implying that your lycantropothy

is a problem, despite Nymphie assuring you that it is not, you are insulting

her intelligence."

"Why don't I just apologise now for all stupid things I may say or do and

leave it at that then?" said Remus, "as I am not currently romantically

involved with your cousin, so there isn't really all that much that I can do

right now, so why don't you just all stop glaring at me!"

"Didn't work for me," muttered Snape under his breath.

"We know perfectly well that you aren't involved with the young Ms Tonks

yet... you would have to at least wait until the end of term, after all it would

be hard for St Moony to take his NEWTs while imprisoned for statutory

rape, so why don't we just leave it where it is and move on because quite

frankly I want to finish this book before the apocalypse," said James,

resolving the conflict in his own manner and turning back to the book.

"Why did you let that go on for so long Albus?" asked Minvera quietly as

everyone tried to refocus on James Potter.

"Simple, there are people smiling now."

"I am not being ridiculous," said Lupin steadily. "Tonks deserves

somebody young and whole."

"But she wants you," said Mr. Weasley, with a small smile. "And after

all, Remus, young and whole men do not necessarily remain so."

He gestured sadly at his son, lying between them.

"This is… not the moment to discuss it," said Lupin, avoiding

everybody's eyes as he looked around distractedly. "Dumbledore is

dead…"

"I don't see how that is a valid argument," said Albus mildly, "after all if

anything it would serve to remind us all of how short our life really is,

besides I would be happy to have known there would be more love in the

world. I find in trying moments it is best to focus on the good things in life

rather than just the negative."

"Dumbledore would have been happier than anybody to think that

there was a little more love in the world," said Professor McGonagall

curtly, just as the hospital doors opened again and Hagrid walked in.

"Seems the Professor knows the headmaster very well indeed," said Alice

with a slight raise of her eyebrows, which caused Lily to cringe and shudder

in horror at the absurdity of the hidden (or perhaps not so hidden)

implication.

The little of his face that was not obscured by hair or beard was

soaking and swollen; he was shaking with tears, a vast, spotted

handkerchief in his hand.

"I've… I've done it, Professor," he choked. "M-moved him. Professor

Sprout's got the kids back in bed. Professor Flitwick's lyin down, but

he says he'll be all righ' in a jiffy, an' Professor Slughorn says the

Ministry's bin informed."

"Thank you, Hagrid," said Professor McGonagall, standing up at once

and turning to look at the group around Bill's bed. "I shall have to see

the Ministry when they get here. Hagrid, please tell the Heads of

Houses — Slughorn can represent Slytherin — that I want to see them

in my office forthwith. I would like you to join us too."

As Hagrid nodded, turned, and shuffled out of the room again, she

looked down at Harry.

"Before I meet them I would like a quick word with you, Harry. If

you'll come with me…."

Harry stood up, murmured "See you in a bit" to Ron, Hermione, and

Ginny, and followed Professor McGonagall back down the ward. The

corridors outside were deserted and the only sound was the distant

phoenix song. It was several minutes before Harry became aware that

they were not heading for Professor McGonagall's office, but for

Dumbledore's, and another few seconds before he realized that of

course, she had been deputy headmistress…. Apparently she was now

headmistress… so the room behind the gargoyle was now hers.

In silence they ascended the moving spiral staircase and entered the

circular office. He did not know what he had expected: that the room

would be draped in black, perhaps, or even that Dumbledore's body

might be lying there. In fact, it looked almost exactly as it had done

when he and Dumbledore had left it mere hours previously: the silver

instruments whirring and puffing on their spindle legged tables,

Gryffindor's sword in its glass case gleaming in the moonlight, the

Sorting Hat on a shelf behind the desk, the Fawkes's perch stood

empty, he was still crying his lament to the grounds. And a new portrait

had joined the ranks of the dead headmasters and headmistresses of

Hogwarts: Dumbledore was slumbering in a golden frame over the

desk, his half-moon spectacle perched upon his crooked nose, looking

peaceful and untroubled. After glancing once at this portrait, Professor

McGonagall made an odd movement as though steeling herself, then

rounded the' desk to look at Harry, her face taut and lined.

"Harry," she said, "I would like to know what you and Professor

Dumbledore were doing this evening when you left the school."

"I can't tell you that, Professor," said Harry. He had expected the

question and had his answer ready. It had been here, in this very room,

that Dumbledore had told him that he was to confide the contents of

their lessons to nobody but Ron and Hermione.

Dumbledore looked on approvingly, while Minerva sent the headmaster a

death-glare.

"Am I allowed to know now, or are you planning on obliviating me after we

finish the chapter so I can be ignorant once more?" asked the annoyed

deputy.

"I daresay I have my reasons," said Albus serenely, and in his mind while

he did not object to Minerva knowing, there were other side effects that

were involved that he would rather avoid.

"Reason enough to send three teenagers on a horcrux hunt with next to no

training and no adult support?" asked Minerva pointedly.

"You must remember secrecy is the key we cannot let anyone know about

this, for risk of Tom finding out," replied Albus still calmly, waiting for his

colleague's explosion.

"Are you saying that I am not trustworthy?"

"Not at all, you should know that you are one of the few people I trust

completely, however there are other considerations, firstly the location,

while I believe Hogwarts to be safe at present, there is a strong chance now

that I am gone that Tom will be able to take down the ministry and use that

to extend control in Hogwarts, so I do not want anyone or anything that is at

Hogwarts to know about the mission, which means the portraits in my

office, any portraits at all, no staff and no students! We do not know what

method Tom will use to extract information if he gained influence in

Hogwarts, however he would not be above truth serums and legimancy on

those who could have vital information, which includes you Minerva,"

explained Albus rationally.

"I could leave Hogwarts if that happened and work with them," argued back

Minerva, although with less heat than before.

"No," said Albus gravely, "In that eventuality, we both know you would not

leave Hogwarts, you would stay to protect the students."

Minerva gave the headmaster one last glare, before turning on the headboy

sending him a look saying 'well, what are you waiting for?'

"Harry, it might be important," said Professor McGonagall.

"It is," said Harry, "very, but he didn't want me to tell anyone."

Professor McGonagall glared at him. "Potter" — Harry registered the

renewed use of his surname — "in the light of Professor Dumbledore's

death, I think you must see that the situation has changed somewhat

—"

"I don't think so," said Harry, shrugging. "Professor Dumbledore

never told me to stop following his orders if he died."

"But —"

"There's one thing you should know before the Ministry gets here

though. Madam Rosmerta's under the Imperius Curse, she was helping

Malfoy and the Death Eaters, that's how the necklace and the poisoned

mead —"

"Rosmerta?" said Professor McGonagall incredulously, but before she

could go on, there was a knock on the door behind them and Professors

Sprout, Flitwick, and Slughorn traipsed into the room, followed by

Hagrid, who was still weeping copiously, his huge frame trembling with

grief.

"Snape!" ejaculated Slughorn, who looked the most shaken, pale and

sweating. "Snape! I taught him! I thought I knew him!"

But before any of them could respond to this, a sharp voice spoke from

high on the wall: A sallow-faced wizard with a short black fringe had

just walked back into his empty canvas.

"Minerva, the Minister will be here within seconds, he has just

Disapparated from the Ministry."

"Thank you, Everard," said Professor McGonagall, and she turned

quickly to her teachers.

"I want to talk about what happens to Hogwarts before he gets here,"

she said quickly. "Personally, I am not convinced that the school should

reopen next year. The death of the headmaster at the hands of one of

our colleagues is a terrible stain upon Hogwarts's history. It is

horrible."

"I am sure Dumbledore would have wanted the school to remain open,"

said Professor Sprout. "I feel that if a single pupil wants to come, then

the school ought to remain open for that pupil."

"But will we have a single pupil after this?" said Slughorn, now

dabbing his sweating brow with a silken handkerchief. "Parents will

want to keep their children at home and I can't say I blame them.

Personally, I don't think we're in more danger at Hogwarts than we are

anywhere else, but you can't expect mothers to think like that. They'll

want to keep their families together, it's only natural."

"Well, well, Sluggy has some common sense after all," said Sirius.

"I agree," said Professor McGonagall. "And in any case, it is not true

to say that Dumbledore never envisaged a situation in which Hogwarts

might close. When the Chamber of Secrets reopened he considered the

closure of the school — and I must say that Professor Dumbledore's

murder is more disturbing to me than the idea of Slytherin's monster

living undetected in the bowels of the castle…"

"We must consult the governors," said Professor Flitwick in his

squeaky little voice; he had a large bruise on his forehead but seemed

otherwise unscathed by his collapse in Snape's office. "We must follow

the established procedures. A decision should not be made hastily."

"Hagrid, you haven't said anything," said Professor McGonagall.

"What are your views, ought Hogwarts to remain open?"

Albus looked sincerely touched that Minerva asked Hagrid's opinion.

Hagrid, who had been weeping silently into his large, spotted

handkerchief throughout this conversation, now raised puffy red eyes

and croaked, "I dunno, Professor… that's fer the Heads of House an

the headmistress ter decide…"

"Professor Dumbledore always valued your views," said Professor

McGonagall kindly, "and so do I."

"Well, I'm stayin," said Hagrid, fat tears still leaking out of the corners

of his eyes and trickling down into his tangled beard. "It's me home,

it's bin me home since I was thirteen. An' if there's kids who wan' me

ter teach 'em, I'll do it. But… I dunno… Hogwarts without

Dumbledore…" He gulped and disappeared behind his handkerchief

once more, and there was silence.

"Very well," said Professor McGonagall, glancing out of the window at

the grounds, checking to see whether the Minister was yet approaching,

"then I must agree with Filius that the right thing to do is to consult the

governors, who will make the final decision.

"Now, as to getting students home… there is an argument for doing it

sooner rather than later. We could arrange for the Hogwarts Express to

come tomorrow if necessary —"

"What about Dumbledore's funeral?" said Harry, speaking at last.

"Well…" said Professor McGonagall, losing a little of her briskness as

her voice shook. "I — I know that it was Dumbledore's wish to be laid

to rest here, at Hogwarts —"

"Then that's what'll happen, isn't it?" said Harry fiercely.

"If the Ministry thinks it appropriate," said Professor McGonagall.

"No other headmaster or headmistress has ever been —"

"No other headmaster or headmistress ever gave more to this school,"

growled Hagrid.

"Hogwarts should be Dumbledore's final resting place," said Professor

Flitwick.

"Absolutely," said Professor Sprout.

"And in that case," said Harry, "you shouldn't send the students home

until the funeral's over. They'll want to say —"

The last word caught in his throat, but Professor Sprout completed the

sentence for him.

"Good-bye."

"Those poor students, it must be hard for them to have to attend the funeral

of their headmaster who was murdered right in front of them," said Lily,

before turning to glare at Severus, "don't you agree Severus?"

Regulus winced in sympathy for his housemate, before commenting to

Hermione in an undertone, "so how long do you reckon it will take for Lily

to lose her temper and go off at Severus."

"Hopefully she will wait until the end of the book," murmured Hermione,

feeling slightly sorry for the wizard and all the abuse he would be facing in

the coming books.

"I doubt it, I think she would be lucky to make it to the end of the chapter,"

said Regulus.

"Well said," squeaked Professor Flitwick. "Well said indeed! Our

students should pay tribute, it is fitting. We can arrange transport

home afterward."

"Seconded," barked Professor Sprout.

"I suppose… yes…" said Slughorn in a rather agitated voice, while

Hagrid let out a strangled sob of assent.

"He's coming," said Professor McGonagall suddenly, gazing down into

the grounds. "The Minister… and by the looks of it. he's brought a

delegation…"

"Can I leave, Professor?" said Harry at once.

He had no desire at all to see, or be interrogated by, Rufus Scrimgeour

tonight.

"You may," said Professor McGonagall. "And quickly."

"I thought Gryffindors were meant to be brave, facing the lion head on and

all that," said Frank.

"There is a difference between brave and using your common sense,

nothing good can come from Harry being around the minister, he would just

lose his temper and that wouldn't go down well," said Hermione.

She strode toward the door and held it open for him. He sped down the

spiral staircase and off along the deserted corridor; he had left his

Invisibility Cloak at the top of the Astronomy Tower, but it did not

matter; there was nobody in the corridors to see him pass, not even

Filch, Mrs. Norris, or Peeves. He did not meet another soul until he

turned into the passage leading to the Gryffindor common room.

"Is it true?" whispered the Fat Lady as he approached her. "It is really

true? Dumbledore — dead?"

"Yes," said Harry.

She let out a wail and, without waiting for the password, swung

forward to admit him.

"That must be a first for Octavia, she is usually rather vigilant and I don't

think I ever remember her being all that fond of me," said Albus, "I

remember this one time when I was a student and a meeting went rather late

and unfortunately the password changed that night and no matter what I

tried she would not let me in, although that may have something to do with

the fact that I accidentally set her on fire the week before..."

"Albus, be serious," scolded Minerva.

"I am being serious, you can ask Octavia herself about the incident, she

remembers it quite clearly," replied Albus.

Minerva shook her head, that man was enough to drive anyone batty.

However on the other side of the room three Gryffindors made the note to

ask the fat lady that very question.

As Harry had suspected it would be, the common room was jam-

packed. The room fell silent as he climbed through the portrait hole. He

saw Dean and Seamus sitting in a group nearby: This meant that the

dormitory must be empty, or nearly so. Without speaking to anybody,

without making eye contact at all, Harry walked straight across the

room and through the door to the boys' dormitories. As he had hoped,

Ron was waiting for him, still fully dressed, sitting on his bed. Harry

sat down on his own four-poster and for a moment, they simply stared

at each other.

"They're talking about closing the school," said Harry.

"Lupin said they would," said Ron.

"Ah Moony, ever the wise one," said James.

"Except when it comes to treating my cousin correctly," added Sirius.

There was a pause.

"So?" said Ron in a very low voice, as though he thought the furniture

might be listening in. "Did you find one? Did you get it? A — a

Horcrux?"

Harry shook his head. All that had taken place around that black lake

seemed like an old nightmare now; had it really happened, and only

hours ago?

"You didn't get it?" said Ron, looking crestfallen. "It wasn't there?"

"No," said Harry. "Someone had already taken it and left a fake in its

place."

"Already taken —?"

Wordlessly, Harry pulled the fake locket from his pocket, opened it,

and passed it to Ron. The full story could wait… It did not matter

tonight… nothing mattered except the end, the end of their pointless

adventure, the end of Dumbledore's life…

"R.A.B.," whispered Ron, "but who was that?"

"Dunno," said Harry, lying back on his bed fully clothed and staring

blankly upwards. He felt no curiosity at all about R.A.B.: He doubted

that he would ever feel curious again. As he lay there, he became aware

suddenly that the grounds were silent. Fawkes had stopped singing.

And he knew, without knowing how he knew it, that the phoenix had

gone, had left Hogwarts for good, just as Dumbledore had left the

school, had left the world… had left Harry.

"While I daresay that the Headmaster's death has bigger repercussions than

just abandoning Harry, I do feel for the boy," said Frank, "he seems to be

death on authority figures."

"Not a good joke," warned Hermione, fearing for her eardrums.

"Hermione is right, it is an appalling joke," agreed Lily, slowly turning red

in the face, "however it is not Harry's fault, he did not ask for us to be

murdered, for one set of possible guardians to be tortured, while his

godfather was left to rot in prison before being murdered by his cousin, and

he certainly did not ask for the headmaster to be murdered. I daresay that I

speak for all of us when I say that I did not plan to leave my son, the only

reason I did was because I was murdered, just like everyone else, all

because of the bad choices of someone who I thought might have actually

been a good person!"

Severus stiffened and paled at that, he knew that when Lily blew her top it

would be painful, however even that knowledge could not prepare him for

the revelation of how much his first friend seemed to loathe him at this

point and how much he was to blame for everything that had happened.

Lily continued to rage, however Severus did the miraculous and was able to

tune it out, hoping that once she got it out of her system she would feel

better and be able to move on and then he might be able regain some of his

honour in her eyes once she had calmed down. Although, he mused, the

actions of his future self thus far meant that would probably not be a likely

occurrence. Severus was startled from his musing by the voice of his

housemate speaking to him in an undertone.

"I get that Evans is angry and your future self is a bit of a bastard,"

murmured Regulus, he saw Severus glare at him, "okay, a lot of a bastard,

however why on earth are you just sitting there and taking it, why aren't you

defending yourseld?"

"Geez Black, I don't know, maybe because she is right?" replied by Severus

snarkily.

"How many people have you murdered so far?" asked Regulus.

"Right now, or according to the blasted book?"

"Now"

"None, as you well know," replied Severus.

"And how many times have you seriously considered murdering someone?"

asked Regulus this time in an undertone.

"None, although yours truly is doing a pretty good job of changing my

mind," scowled Severus.

"I will warn you though after living with my brother I am quite hard to kill,"

joked Regulus, "however my point is, you haven't done anything yet and

you clearly don't want to be that person, so why are you just sitting there

and taking it, rather than defending yourself."

Severus sighed.

"Oh," said Regulus, a look of realisation gracing his face, "you are afraid by

standing up to her you will lose your friendship with Evans."

"She was my first friend," admitted Severus quietly, "and I would like to

keep some sort of semblance of that intact, thank you very much."

"I doubt just sitting there is going help that cause at all," said Regulus, "if

anything you are condemning yourself further, after all in court not

speaking to defend yourself is the equivalent to admitting your guilt, so you

are practically declaring yourself a murderer, however if you speak up than

it shows that despite your future choices you are not that person at the

moment, which is the truth. After all you may be a masochistic bastard, but

you aren't a murderer. Besides my general understanding of friendship is

that it forgives others, so if you can forgive Lily for reeming you out for

something you haven't done yet and don't plan to do, then as your friend

surely she can forgive you for defending yourself, and if she can't then is

she truly your friend in the first place?"

Severus sighed, that meant he had even more things to think about, however

he was brought back to reality by the ever rising voice of his friend, whose

face was a shade of pink that clashed horribly with her hair.

"I just don't understand you Severus Snape," said Lily in a rather loud

voice, "how on earth did you change from the little boy I grew up with into

a murderer? Are you even going to try to defend yourself, or do you believe

that murder, betrayal and subservience to a psychotic maggot-ridden despot

is truly an acceptable set of life choices?"

Severus took a deep breath, Merlin help him he was going to try and follow

Black's advice.

"Thank you for that stirling analysis of my character, firstly Lily I believe

congratulations are in order, I think you have broken your record for how

long you can rant for without drawing breath," said Severus calmly with a

dose of sarcasm thrown in for good measure (he was Severus Snape, even

the potential loss of friendship was not enough to change some of his

personality traits). "Now that you having finished, I will answer the last two

questions you asked. Yes, I will defend myself now that you have finished

yelling. As for the other question, no I do not believe that murder, betrayal

and subservience to, how did you put it, a 'psychotic, maggot-ridden despot'

is right, and I hope that I never become the person that is described in these

books." Severus paused for a moment and took a deep breath and continued

in a more serious tone of voice, "I do not know what is going to happen in

the future and what circumstances shape the person I unfortunately become,

however I wish to make one thing clear: I do not have any plan to or desire

to betray you or anyone else and I abhor the idea of murdering anyone,

particularly someone like the headmaster who obviously trusted me, even

when no one else did, therefore I am not the person who is described in

these books. I understand you are angry and upset Lily, however I would

prefer if you did not insult me and blame me for things I have yet to do and

have no intention of ever doing. After all I was under the impression that

friends were meant to support each other."

The room was silent after that announcement. James looked like he wanted

to do something to Severus for daring to speak to Lily like that, however he

was cut off before he could say anything by Severus.

"That goes for everyone actually. Now is that a good enough defence or

would you like me to continue?"

The room was silent again, in truth not many of them expected Severus to

actually defend himself, or to do so in a half-rational manner. Lily in

particular had deflated significantly; despite the fact that she did not

appreciate being called out on what she thought was quite justified

behaviour. James bristled and decided to call Severus out.

"You shouldn't speak to Lily like that, she hasn't done anything wrong!"

said James, wrapping an arm around his girlfriend's shoulders, giving her a

supportive squeeze.

Severus sighed, "once again Potter your veiled implications have all the

subtly of a sledgehammer in a china shop..."

And so the verbal sparring began again, because emboldened by the fact

that he had just defended himself with moderate success (and that Lily was

no longer yelling or cursing his very existence), Severus was more than

happy to snipe back again

"I have to ask Albus," said Minerva quietly, "after what we have learned, do

you still believe your future self had the right measure of Severus Snape."

Albus looked pensive for a moment, "yes Minerva, yes I do, I believe that

Severus Snape is and will be a good man, perhaps not gifted with the

personality needed for the teaching profession, but a good and trustworthy

man none the less."

"Why? How can you still say that after he murdered you?"

"Quite easily my dear there are many reasons, firstly I daresay I was not in

the best of health at the time, if the curse on my hand is any indication I

doubt I would have had much time left at all, combine that with the

delightful cocktail I consumed in the cave, I daresay that my life expectancy

was not looking very good at all. With this in mind consider the vow

Severus took at the beginning of the book, my life was coming to an end I

have no qualms in exchanging my life for that of a friend and colleague,

after all if Severus did not kill me then the price would be his own life and

even at that point I daresay he has a far greater role to play than I could.

Thirdly, the answer lies with Miss Granger herself, while she has shown she

can be quite vindictive when angered, she also has compassion. If she has

allowed Severus in the room it either because she trusts him, she believes

he can be redeemed, or else it is a punishment for what he must do in the

future: putting him in a room with next to no allies and reading a list of

reasons they should hate him. Given Hermione's temperament do you

believe that it could truly be the latter reason?"

Minerva just stared at the man she respected and shook her head... how

could someone possibly be so observant and infuriatingly correct all the

time? Surely it had to hurt. There were days where the calm rationalism of

Albus who-has –too-many-middle-names Dumbledore made her want to

scream.

"If this is the case, why haven't you said anything to help the poor boy, he is

coming under unnecessary fire!"

"Perhaps, but I believe more people subconsciously know it than you would

think: with their up-bringing the two Mr Blacks will know the severity of

the injury sustained to my hand and the consequences of it. Mr Longbottom

himself is quite a rational creature and will surely see the logic in time. And

Ms Evans, well I would hope she has enough sense to look past this little

hiccup and see the bigger picture, at least once she has calmed down

anyway. As for the others, well would they truly believe it if we just told

them... no it is better if they discover it for themselves."

Once again the logic and seeming omniscience of her colleague made her

want to scream (not to mention the fact he just likened his own

murder/euthanasia/assisted suicide whatever it was to a hiccup). Instead

Minerva McGonagall took a deep and hopefully calming breath and turned

back to the students and politely asked an important question.

"So who would like to read the final chapter?"

AN: Thanks for reading, please review! Cheers!

30. Chapter 30

The White Tomb

AN: Well lookie here... I got it done. Surprised? Here is the final chapter of

book 6, book 7 shouldn't be too far off, I made a commitment to this series,

even though I knew it would be an insane amount of work and I will see it

through, although I beg for you patience as it may take some time. I hope

you all have a merry Christmas and consider this my Christmas present to

you. Hopefully the new book shouldn't be too far off, but I honestly can't

make promises about when at present. A massive thanks to those who

reviewed it was a great kick up the bum and gave me the encouragement to

keep going and keep writing, and now you have the finished book, although

I apologise for the rather long wait. So once again, thanks to those who

reviewed, Merry Christmas and enjoy the newest chapter. Cheers!

"Did you want to read the next chapter Lily, or should we keep going

round?" asked James.

"Let Sirius read if he wants it," said Lily, "I would rather just sit this round

out."

Sirius shrugged, "I read about my own death, probably can't get more

awkward than that."

Hermione winced, "I should have realised that was going to be in your

chapter and let someone else read, sorry."

Sirius shrugged, "no biggie, I was going to have to find our anyway. Is

everyone ready?"

"I don't think any of us are really ready for what is to come," mused Frank.

"But delaying is pointless, so read on Black and tell us what will be

happening in the future in a galaxy far, far away," said Alice with a smile.

Remus just stared at Alice, "what in Merlin's name have you been smoking,

Smith?"

"Why did you just make a Star Wars reference?" asked Hermione looking

confused, "wasn't really the right context."

Alice shrugged, "why not?

A few people stared at her.

"My apologies, I really should stop making Alice watch movies with me

during the holidays, that one is my fault," said Lily.

"Just don't let her watch Monty Python or Black Adder and we should be

fine," said Hermione, wincing at horror that Alice Smith could unleash if

she watched Monty Python, she wasn't sure if the world would survive, it

was hard to think that quiet and shy Neville came from such a person.

Hermione privately wondered what Neville would have been like if Alice

survived and raised him, he would certainly be a very different person than

the boy she went to school with.

"Well, I might just start before Smith drives us all insane," said Sirius,

turning to the book, "this chapter is called The White Tomb."

All lessons were suspended, all examinations postponed. Some students

were hurried away from Hogwarts by their parents over the next

couple of days — the Patil twins were gone before breakfast on the

morning following Dumbledore's death and Zacharias Smith was

escorted from the castle by his haughty-looking father. Seamus

Finnigan, on the other hand, refused point-blank to accompany his

mother home; they had a shouting match in the Entrance Hall which

was resolved when she agreed that he could remain behind for the

funeral.

"Seems Seamus has come a long way from the year before, when he blindly

followed his mother's opinions about Harry and Riddle," observed James,

"good on him. He has the true makings of a Gryffindor"

Hermione smiled slightly, now that it was pointed out to her, she noticed

Seamus did mature greatly in order to become one of the rebel leaders of

Hogwarts, who was willing to be tortured to save other students... a true

Gryffindor indeed.

"While we have paused, may I enquire what actions were taken to enable

the OWL and NEWT students to take their tests?" enquired Albus

curiously, ever the headmaster.

"They took them about a week later, I think Ginny said the building was in

Cornwall," said Hermione thinking back, as uncharacteristic as it was,

exams were not really a high priority for her at that point in time.

"That would be the training centre for the Ministry in Truro then," said

Albus, "as I would have suspected."

"Why there?" asked Lily, "why not the Ministry in London?"

"That would be a logistical nightmare Lily," said Frank, "think about it,

hundreds of students having to use the visitors entrance everyday, plus get

registered, their wands recorded, not to mention the possibility of the

students wandering off and ending up in places where they are not wanted,

as there wouldn't be enough staff to supervise all those students the entire

time they are there."

"For those of you who don't know," explained Minerva, "the ministry has

it's own training centre, where new employees do their inductions, initial

trainings as well as any specialised training and testing. That is, for example

where the auror training will take place each year, as well as recruits in

areas such are wizarding law, foreign affairs and finance are able to get their

specific training before entering the ministry at large."

Lily felt slightly sheepish, of course there would be somewhere separate

from the ministry where training would take place, otherwise it would be

the equivalent of sending police recruits to Westminster for instruction.

She had difficulty in finding a bed in Hogsmeade, Seamus told Harry

and Ron, for wizards and witches were pouring into the village,

preparing to pay their last respects to Dumbledore.

Some excitement was caused among the younger students, who had

never seen it before, when a powder-blue carriage the size of a house,

pulled by a dozen giant winged palominos, came soaring out of the sky

in the late afternoon before the funeral and landed on the edge of the

Forest. Harry watched from a window as a gigantic and handsome

olive-skinned, black-haired woman descended the carriage steps and

threw herself into the waiting Hagrid's arms. Meanwhile a delegation

of Ministry officials, including the Minister for Magic himself, was

being accommodated within the castle. Harry was diligently avoiding

contact with any of them; he was sure that, sooner or later, he would be

asked again to account for Dumbledore's last excursion from

Hogwarts.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were spending all of their time

together. The beautiful weather seemed to mock them; Harry could

imagine how it would have been if Dumbledore had not died, and they

had had this time together at the very end of the year, Ginny's

examinations finished, the pressure of homework lifted… and hour by

hour, he put off saying the thing that he knew he must say, doing what

he knew it was right to do, because it was too hard to forgo his best

source of comfort.

Lily raised her eyebrow, seems the Potter nobility, or perhaps stupidity

would be coming through.

They visited the hospital wing twice a day: Neville had been

discharged, but Bill remained under Madam Pomfrey's care. His scars

were as bad as ever; in truth, he now bore a distinct resemblance to

Mad-Eye Moody, though thankfully with both eyes and legs, but in

personality he seemed just the same as ever. All that appeared to have

changed was that he now had a great liking for very rare steaks.

"… so eet ees lucky 'e is marrying me," said Fleur happily, plumping

up Bill's pillows, "because ze British overcook their meat, I 'ave always

said this."

"I suppose I'm just going to have to accept that he really is going to

marry her," sighed Ginny later that evening, as she, Harry, Ron and

Hermione sat beside the open window of the Gryffindor common room,

looking out over the twilit grounds.

"She's not bad," defended Hermione, "once you get past her shell, she is a

great person with an interesting sense of humour."

"So you mentioned."

"She's not that bad," said Harry. "Ugly, though," he added hastily, as

Ginny raised her eyebrows, and she let out a reluctant giggle.

"Well, I suppose if Mum can stand it, I can."

"Anyone else we know died?" Ron asked Hermione, who was perusing

the Evening Prophet.

"I see he still has the emotional range of a teaspoon," observed Lily.

Hermione snorted.

"That has to be one of the most memorable things said so far in the books,

you can't blame me for quoting it... I might have use a similar comparison

for James occasionally," said Lily.

"I don't know Lils," said Sirius, "I don't think you give Prongs enough

credit, since becoming head boy he's matured, he probably would just

scrape in as a desert spoon."

"Oi, I'm sitting right here," said the affronted headboy.

"Which is precisely Padfoot said it," said Remus with a small grin, happy to

be falling back into their usual banter, after the tensions of the past several

chapters.

"Oh shut-up bunny-boy."

"Or what, deer?"

"It's like being in a farm," commented Hermione, observing the interaction

with interaction.

"Count you blessing that you don't have to share a common room with

them," said Lily.

"Well, after the flaming banana incident of '75 we almost didn't have a

common to share," pointed out Alice, smiling at the memory.

Minerva also remembered the incident and winced, there were times when

she hated the fact that all four marauders were extremely talented and smart

as well as obscenely creative.

"What happened?" asked Hermione, she then thought better of it, "you

know what, I don't think I even want to know."

"Good call," affirmed Lily.

Hermione winced at the forced toughness in his voice.

"No," she said reprovingly, folding up the newspaper. "They're still

looking for Snape, but no sign…"

"Of course there isn't," said Harry, who became angry every time this

subject cropped up. "They won't find Snape till they find Voldemort,

and seeing as they've never managed to do that in all this time…"

"Considering the Dark Lord is a fan of irony and has a twisted sense of

humour, he is probably somewhere under a fidelious charm," said Regulus.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, "but then he would have to trust someone

enough to be his secret-keeper."

"He would probably make himself secret keeper," pointed out Regulus,

"after all that is the only person he trusts."

"I'm going to go to bed," yawned Ginny. "I haven't been sleeping that

well since… well… I could do with some sleep."

She kissed Harry (Ron looked away pointedly), waved at the other two

and departed for the girls' dormitories. The moment the door had

closed behind her, Hermione leaned forwards towards Harry with a

most Hermione-ish look on her face.

"How very descriptive," drawled Remus.

"Why thank you... Wolfie," retorted Hermione with a smile.

"Harry, I found something out this morning, in the library…"

"R.A.B.?" said Harry, sitting up straight.

"I'm not in the library, I am in the room of requirement," joked Regulus.

"With colonel mustard and the wrench," added on Hermione, with a faint

smile. She received a room full of confused looks, the purebloods who

didn't know what on earth she was going on about, and from those who

were familiar in the muggle world who were wondering how it was

relevant. Hermione smiled nostalgically, "as you have probably noticed I

am rather fond of books and libraries. Anyway, growing up my parents and

I used to love playing board games together, one of our favourites was

Cluedo, so it became a family joke when I'd say something about going to a

library or being in a library, one of my parents, usually my father, would

add on one of the characters and a weapon, in this case Colonel Mustard

and the wrench... the way Regulus made the comment just made me think

of it and I couldn't resist."

"Sounds intriguing," said Sirius, "you should teach us how to play, Mie.

Perhaps we can learn about this legendary game once we finish reading for

the day, besides anything that involves mustard, libraries and murdering

people with wrenches sounds like fun."

Hermione's smile at that suggestion, showed how much she liked the idea.

It was the first real smile the room had seen from her in a long time, which

showed the toll reliving everything had taken on her. The fact that she

would have a chance to play her favourite muggle board game (tied with

scrabble anyway), which reminded her of her family cheered the time-

traveller immensely.

Lily however was hung up on a different part of Sirius' suggestion, "do you

even know what a wrench is, Sirius?"

Sirius rolled his eye, "surprisingly enough, yes." Lily raised an eyebrow

sceptically. In response Sirius opened his hand and suddenly a wrench

appeared in it, courtesy of the room.

"How on earth do you, a privileged pureblood, know what a wrench is?"

asked Lily in disbelief.

"Well, even though I am a 'privileged pureblood', I am also building my

motorbike, so believe it or not it does come in handy, besides my next door

neighbour runs a mechanic business from his home, so I have learned quite

a bit from him," replied Sirius.

"Now that our post-reading activities have been decided, would the

privileged pureblood, mind continuing with the story?" asked Remus dryly.

"My pleasure M. Lapin," responded Sirius in retaliation, before turning

back to the book.

He did not feel the way he had so often felt before, excited, curious,

burning to get to the bottom of a mystery; he simply knew that the task

of discovering the truth about the real Horcrux had to be completed

before he could move a little further along the dark and winding path

stretching ahead of him, the path that he and Dumbledore had set out

upon together, and which he now knew he would have to journey alone.

There might still be as many as four Horcruxes out there somewhere

and each would need to be found and eliminated before there was even

a possibility that Voldemort could be killed. He kept reciting their

names to himself, as though by listing them he could bring them within

reach: the locket.., the cup… the snake… something of Gryffindor's or

Ravenclaw's… the locket… the cup… the snake… something of

Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's… This mantra seemed to pulse through

Harry's mind as he fell asleep at night, and his dreams were thick with

cups, lockets and mysterious objects that he could not quite reach,

though Dumbledore helpfully offered Harry a rope ladder that turned

to snakes the moment he began to climb…He had shown Hermione the

note inside the locket the morning after Dumbledore's death, and

although she had not immediately recognised the initials as belonging

to some obscure wizard about whom she had been reading, she had

since been rushing off to the library a little more often than was strictly

necessary for somebody who had no homework to do.

"Why was it just you rushing to the library?" asked Alice, "did they think

they would be murdered if they set foot in it?"

"No," said Hermione, "they helped and spent their share of time there too,

we decided to divide and conquer, Ron looked through school records,

although we didn't get to the year Regulus would have been there, because

we did it in chronological order and started a lot earlier than that, as we

figured it would have to be someone with a lot more experience to get

through the obstacles. Harry was looking through the archives of daily

prophets and other publications for possibilities, while I helped with that

and looked through books and well anything else I could find. However due

to my love of libraries and research I did spend a lot more time there than

the others."

"No," she said sadly, "I've been trying, Harry, but I haven't found

anything… there are a couple of reasonably well-known wizards with

those initials - Rosalind Antigone Bungs… Rupert 'Axebanger '

Brookstanton… but they don't seem to fit at all. Judging by that note,

the person who stole the Horcrux knew Voldemort, and I can't find a

shred of evidence that Bungs or Axebanger ever had anything to do

with him…no, actually, it's about… well, Snape."

She looked nervous even saying the name again.

"What about him?" asked Harry heavily, slumping back in his chair.

"Well, it's just that I was sort of right about the Half-Blood Prince

business," she said tentatively.

"D'you have to rub it in, Hermione? How do you think I feel about that

now?"

"No — no — Harry, I didn't mean that!" she said hastily, looking

around to check that they were not being overheard. "It's just that I

was right about Eileen Prince once owning the book. You see… she was

Snape's mother!"

"I thought she wasn't much of a looker," said Ron. Hermione ignored

him.

"Did he just imply my mother was ugly?" asked Severus, in a slightly

dangerous voice.

"I thought he stated it rather clearly," replied James instantly.

"Don't worry it is probably nothing compared to what he says about Black's

mother," said Frank, redirecting the conversation before anything could

break out.

"I was going through the rest of the old Prophets and there was a tiny

announcement about Eileen Prince marrying a man called Tobias

Snape, and then later an announcement saying that she'd given birth to

a —"

"— murderer," spat Harry.

"That wasn't exactly the word I was looking for," said Hermione.

"If the shoe fits," murmured Lily, apparently she was not quite over her

rage, but her comment lacked a lot of the heat of the previous, so Severus

decided to employ selective hearing.

"Well… yes," said Hermione. "So… I was sort of right. Snape must

have been proud of being 'half a Prince', you see? Tobias Snape was a

Muggle from what it said in the Prophet"

"Yeah, that fits," said Harry. "He'd play up the pure-blood side so he

could get in with Lucius Malfoy and the rest of them… he's just like

Voldemort. Pure-blood mother, Muggle father… ashamed of his

parentage, trying to make himself feared using the Dark Arts, gave

himself an impressive new name — Lord Voldemort — the Half-Blood

Prince - how could Dumbledore have missed —?"

"That doesn't really make sense," said Regulus, "If Severus was so keen to

get in with the pureblood crowd, why would he openly advertise the fact

that he is a half-blood. It is not a logical choice of monicker if that is the

inention. While the Prince family isn't exactly poor, the name doesn't carry

much weight in pureblood circles, certainly not enough to outweigh the fact

that the nickname openly states that he is a half-blood."

"Are you saying I am not proud of my mother's family?" questioned

Severus, "you see Black, unlike you I actually like my mother."

"He isn't saying that you don't Snape," said Sirius, "if you opened your eyes

you would notice that Regulus was actually defending you, not insulting

you. He is trying to tell everyone that you must not have chosen that name

in order to make yourself more appealing to those who would like to make

you a sycophantic piece of chattel."

"I must say," said James, butting in, "that have to be my favourite name for

the death eaters so far... sycophantic pieces of chattel. I will give you 10

galleons to say to Lucius Malfoy's face."

"With pleasure," said Sirius with a smirk.

He broke off, looking out of the window. He could not stop himself

dwelling upon Dumbledore's inexcusable trust in Snape… but as

Hermione had just inadvertently reminded him, he, Harry, had been

taken in just the same… in spite of the increasing nastiness of those

scribbled spells, he had refused to believe ill of the boy who had been so

clever, who had helped him so much… Helped him… it was an almost

unendurable thought, now…

"It wasn't only Snape that helped him, it was also me," declared Lily

annoyed, "I was an equal contributor to those spells and hints, he had every

right to know those spells and that potions information, that was the

culmination of nearly five years work."

"I can't believe you are a contributor to the book," said James.

"Why not?" asked Lily, "don't you think I am smart enough to be able to do

it? Or did you seriously think you boys were the only ones to do advanced

extracurricular learning."

"Not what I meant Lils," said James, although he had a suspicion that Lily

was deliberately misinterpret what he said.

"I know, but I am very proud of the creations that are written in that book

and my copy of it. We spent entire summers working out those shortcuts

and potions tricks," said Lily, suddenly remembering the good times she

had with Severus. Lily smiled in memory, she truly enjoyed studying

potions with Sev during the holidays, (and since it didn't require wanded

magic she was able to give her parents a taste of the magical world). She

then looked at Severus, and she saw a slightly older and more sarcastic

version of the fifteen year old boy she made potions with not all that long

ago, he wasn't a murder, at least not yet, he was her friend. Suddenly with a

new resolve Lily decided that hell or high water, she was going to stand

with her first magical friend and there was no way she was going to let him

become a murderer on her watch!

"I still don't get why he didn't turn you in for using that book," said

Ron. "He must've known where you were getting it all from."

"It is simple," said Lily with a smile, "Sev knew that as my son, Harry

deserved to be able to use them, it is his legacy. After all if I was alive I

would have taught him those spells and tips anyway."

Severus smiled, this was the first time Lily had called him Sev since he

pissed her off my murdering Dumbledore in the future. It seemed that

things were looking up.

"He knew," said Harry bitterly. "He knew when I used Sectumsempra.

He didn't really need Legilimency… he might even have known before

then, with Slughom talking about how brilliant I was at Potions…

shouldn't have left his old book in the bottom of that cupboard, should

he?"

"But why didn't he turn you in?"

"I don't think he wanted to associate himself with that book," said

Hermione. "I don't think Dumbledore would have liked it very much if

he'd known. And even if Snape pretended it hadn't been his, Slughorn

would have recognised his writing at once. Anyway, the book was left in

Snape's old classroom, and I'll bet Dumbledore knew his mother was

called 'Prince'."

"I should've shown the book to Dumbledore," said Harry. "All that

time he was showing me how Voldemort was evil even when he was at

school, and I had proof Snape was, too —"

"That book isn't evil," said Lily hotly, "considering I wrote most of those

spells, that means my son is calling me evil! And I most certainly am not."

"I don't know Evans," said Sirius, "you strike me as pretty evil, after all it

took you, what four years to put our poor deer out of his misery."

"How is that evil?" asked Lily archly.

"You didn't have to live him," said Remus.

"He swung between being obnoxiously disappointed and exclaiming about

the perfection of your hair..."

"...Eyes..."

"...voice..."

"...ears..." explained Sirius with input from the beloved werewolf.

"Mind you," said Sirius, "he still does that, so really you are just generally

evil as you make him impossible to live with."

"Are you quite finished?" asked James, looking slightly bored, as he was

well used to this teasing from his friends.

"Did you invent Sectumsempra?" asked Hermione, as she was curious, she

would not have picked Lily as the type to invent dark magic.

"That was a joint project," explained Lily, "it was not originally crafted for

that duelling and human use."

"In some of the potions we were starting to work on by the end of our fifth

year when we invented that spell, some of the ingredients were a bit tricky

to work with, as some of the creatures in particular would have immense

healing powers and would repair the damage caused by knives of regular

cutting charms," added Severus, happy to be able to contribute to the

discussion, now that he was fairly certainly that his favourite red-head

would not castrate him with a wooden spoon or send him to Siberia with

only a toothpick and a pair of shoelaces.

"So we ended up creating sectumsempra, which is a permanent severing or

cutting charm, only later did we realise the negative impacts it could have if

used on a person, it's a long story involving me accidentally severing the

end off a toe on my foot. And it was after that we decided that we should

probably also create a counter-curse and not use it on humans unless we

were really, really cheesed off at them," explained Lily, to the enthralled

room. Hermione was amazed at the talent, even though she prided herself

on being the smartest witch of her generation, her accomplishments paled

compared to those in the room with her.

"You should be thanking me on bended knee Potter," sneered Severus, "If I

didn't talk Lily out of using that spell on a particular part of your anatomy,

you wouldn't have a son to be reading about."

"Really?" asked James, looking at his girlfriend in a mixture of fear and

awe.

"I was getting close after the flamingo incident just before OWLs," said

Lily, "good times, you should be thankful that I only put those charms on

your broomstick."

"That was you?" asked James in shock.

"Finally he believes that it wasn't me," said Remus, "it only took him 18

months."

"I didn't think anyone else was vindictive enough and you threatened to hex

me the day before for interrupting you and that girl in the broom cupboard,"

said James in his defence.

"I think we have strayed into the irrelevant, perhaps Mr Black could

continue," said Minerva, suddenly feeling as though she was looking after a

group of kindergarteners.

"'Evil' is a strong word," said Hermione quietly.

"You were the one who kept telling me the book was dangerous!"

"I'm trying to say, Harry, that you're pulling too much blame on

yourself. I thought the Prince seemed to have a nasty sense of humour,

but I would never have guessed he was a potential killer…"

"None of us could've guessed Snape would… you know," said Ron.

Silence fell between them, each of them lost in their own thoughts, but

Harry was sure that they, like him, were thinking about the following

morning, when Dumbledore's body would be laid to rest. Harry had

never attended a funeral before; there had been no body to bury when

Sirius had died. He did not know what to expect and was a little

worried about what he might see, about how he would feel. He

wondered whether Dumbledore's death would be more real to him once

the funeral was over. Though he had moments when the horrible fact of

it threatened to overwhelm him, there were blank stretches of

numbness where, despite the fact that nobody was talking about

anything else in the whole castle, he still found it difficult to believe that

Dumbledore had really gone. Admittedly he had not, as he had with

Sirius, looked desperately for some kind of loophole, some way that

Dumbledore would come back… he felt in his pocket for the cold chain

of the fake Horcrux, which he now carried with him everywhere, not as

a talisman, but as a reminder of what it had cost and what remained

still to do.

Harry rose early to pack the next day; the Hogwarts Express would be

leaving an hour after the funeral. Downstairs he found the mood in the

Great Hall subdued. Everybody was wearing their dress robes and no

one seemed very hungry. Professor McGonagall had left the throne-like

chair in the middle of the staff table empty. Hagrid's chair was deserted

too: Harry thought that perhaps he had not been able to face

breakfast; but Snape's place had been unceremoniously filled by Rufus

Scrimgeour. Harry avoided his yellowish eyes as they scanned the Hall;

Harry had the uncomfortable feeling that Scrimgeour was looking for

him. Among Scrimgeour's entourage Harry spotted the red hair and

horn-rimmed glasses of Percy Weasley. Ron gave no sign that he was

aware of Percy, apart from stabbing pieces of kipper with unwonted

venom.

Over at the Slytherin table Crabbe and Goyle were muttering together.

Hulking boys though they were, they looked oddly lonely without the

tall, pale figure of Malfoy between them, bossing them around. Harry

had not spared Malfoy much thought. His animosity was all for Snape,

but he had not forgotten the fear in Malfoy's voice on that Tower top,

nor the fact that he had lowered his wand before the other Death

Eaters arrived. Harry did not believe that Malfoy would have killed

Dumbledore. He despised Malfoy still for his infatuation with the Dark

Arts, but now the tiniest drop of pity mingled with his dislike. Where,

Harry wondered, was Malfoy now, and what was Voldemort making

him do under threat of killing him and his parents? Harry's thoughts

were interrupted by a nudge in the ribs from Ginny. Professor

McGonagall had risen to her feet and the mournful hum in the Hall

died away at once.

"It is nearly time," she said. "Please follow your Heads of House out

into the grounds. Gryffindors, after me."

They filed out from behind their benches in near silence. Harry

glimpsed Slughorn at the head of the Slytherin column, wearing

magnificent long emerald-green robes embroidered with silver. He had

never seen Professor Sprout, Head of the Hufflepuffs, looking so clean;

there was not a single patch on her hat, and when they reached the

Entrance Hall, they found Madam Pince standing beside Filch, she in a

thick black veil that fell to her knees, he in an ancient black suit and tie

reeking of mothballs.

"Something going on there?" wondered Alice out-loud.

"I really don't want to know," said Frank, "I think I would have to scourgify

my brain if I did."

While Minerva felt she should say something in defence of a fellow staff

member, most of the present staff employed the very same policy Mr

Longbottom mentioned.

They were heading, as Harry saw when he stepped out on to the stone

steps from the front doors, towards the lake. The warmth of the sun

caressed his face as they followed Professor McGonagall in silence to

the place where hundreds of chairs had been set out in rows. An aisle

ran down the centre of them: there was a marble table standing at the

front, all chairs facing it. It was the most beautiful summer's day.

An extraordinary assortment of people had already settled into half of

the chairs: shabby and smart, old and young. Most Harry did not

recognise, but there were a few that he did, including members of the

Order of the Phoenix: Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mad-Eye Moody, Tonks,

her hair miraculously returned to vividest pink, Remus Lupin, with

whom she seemed to be holding hands,

"So long as you don't do anything too big to piss her off, we'll get along just

fine Moons," said Sirius, however even a deaf and drunken hippogriff could

sense the underlying warning in his voice. Then without batting an

eyebrow, Sirius just continued reading.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill supported by Fleur and followed by Fred

and George, who were wearing jackets of black dragonskin. Then there

was Madame Maxime, who took up two-and-a-half chairs on her own,

Tom, the landlord of the Leaky Cauldron, Arabella Figg, Harry's Squib

neighbour, the hairy bass player from the wizarding group the Weird

Sisters,

"That reminds me, I must have tea with Sylvain sometime soon," said Albus

to himself.

"The bass player from the weird sisters' name is Sylvain?" asked Frank.

"Oh yes, I haven't seen him in several months, he is an excellent

conversationalist and has some very interesting opinions about current

affairs," assured Albus.

Frank just could not picture any rock musician sitting down and having tea

and scones with their eccentric headmaster while chatting about politics.

Ernie Prang, driver of the Knight Bus, Madam Malkin, of the robe

shop in Diagon Alley, and some people whom Harry merely knew by

sight, such as the barman of the Hog's Head and the witch who pushed

the trolley on the Hogwarts Express. The castle ghosts were there too,

barely visible in the bright sunlight, discernible only when they moved,

shimmering insubstantially in the gleaming air.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny filed into seats at the end of a row

beside the lake. People were whispering to each other; it sounded like a

breeze in the grass, but the birdsong was louder by far. The crowd

continued to swell; with a great rush of affection for both of them,

Harry saw Neville being helped into a seat by Luna. They alone of all

the D.A. had responded to Hermione's summons the night that

Dumbledore had died, and Harry knew why: they were the ones who

had missed the D.A. most… probably the ones who had checked their

coins regularly in the hope that there would be another meeting.

Cornelius Fudge walked past them towards the front rows, his

expression miserable, twirling his green bowler hat as usual; Harry

next recognised Rita Skeeter, who, he was infuriated to see, had a

notebook clutched in her red-taloned hand; and then, with a worse jolt

of fury, Dolores Umbridge, an unconvincing expression of grief upon

her toadlike face, a black velvet bow set atop her iron-colored curls. At

the sight of the centaur Firenze, who was standing like a sentinel near

the water's edge, she gave a start and scurried hastily into a seat a good

distance away.

The staff were seated at last. Harry could see Scrimgeour looking grave

and dignified in the front row with Professor McGonagall. He

wondered whether Scrimgeour or any of these important people were

really sorry that Dumbledore was dead. But then he heard music,

strange, otherworldly music, and he forgot his dislike of the Ministry in

looking around for the source of it. He was not the only one: many

heads were turning, searching, a little alarmed.

"In there," whispered Ginny in Harry's ear.

And he saw them in the clear green sunlit water, inches below the

surface, reminding him horribly of the Inferi; a chorus of merpeople

singing in a strange language he did not understand, their pallid faces

rippling, their purplish hair flowing all around them. The music made

the hair on Harry's neck stand up and yet it was not unpleasant. It

spoke very clearly of loss and of despair. As he looked down into the

wild faces of the singers he had the feeling that they, at least, were sorry

for Dumbledore's passing. Then Ginny nudged him again and he

looked round.

"That is quite the who's who of the wizarding world, headmaster," observed

Remus, "you seem to have touched a lot of lives."

Albus merely smiled, the official and superficial turn out did not surprise

him, the one person whose presence touched him above all others was that

of his brother, not that he would ever dream of sharing that with another

soul, not even Minerva.

Hagrid was walking slowly up the aisle between the chairs. He was

crying quite silently, his face gleaming with tears, and in his arms,

wrapped in purple velvet spangled with golden stars, was what Harry

knew to be Dumbledore's body. A sharp pain rose in Harry's throat at

this sight: for a moment, the strange music and the knowledge that

Dumbledore's body was so close seemed to take all warmth from the

day. Ron looked white and shocked. Tears were falling thick and fast

into both Ginny and Hermione's laps.

They could not see clearly what was happening at the front. Hagrid

seemed to have placed the body carefully upon the table. Now he

retreated down the aisle, blowing his nose with loud trumpeting noises

that drew scandalized looks from some, including, Harry saw, Dolores

Umbridge…

"I wonder if the centaurs will make an appearance," mused Minerva,

thinking about how much Dolores loved centaurs in the previous book.

Despite being a professor, Minerva McGonagall had quite the vindictive

streak, reserved especially for those who tortured her students and harmed

those under her care.

but Harry knew that Dumbledore would not have cared. He tried to

make a friendly gesture to Hagrid as he passed, but Hagrid's eyes were

so swollen it was a wonder he could see where he was going. Harry

glanced at the back row to which Hagrid was heading and realized

what was guiding him, for there, dressed in a jacket and trousers each

the size of a small marquee, was the giant Grawp, his great ugly

boulder-like head bowed, docile, almost human. Hagrid sat down next

to his half-brother and Grawp patted Hagrid hard on the head, so that

his chair legs sank into the ground. Harry had a wonderful momentary

urge to laugh. But then the music stopped and he turned to face the

front again.

A little tufty-haired man in plain black robes had got to his feet and

stood now in front of Dumbledore's body. Harry could not hear what

he was saying. Odd words floated back to them over the hundreds of

beads. "Nobility of spirit"… "intellectual contribution"… "greatness

of heart"… it did not mean very much. It had little to do with

Dumbledore as Harry had known him. He suddenly remembered

Dumbledore's idea of a few words: "nitwit", "oddment", "blubber"

and "tweak", and again, had to suppress a grin… what was the matter

with him?

"That sounds more like Albus," said Minerva, "a start of term speech I

presume."

Hermione nodded, "first year, I thought you were mildly insane, no offence

intended, Headmaster."

"None taken," said Albus pleasantly, "I daresay you were correct, after all

once you have seen enough of the world you find sanity is luxury that you

are more than capable of living without, if anything it is a hindrance.

Besides, it would make life too boring if everyone was sane."

There was a soft splashing noise to his left and he saw that the

merpeople had broken the surface to listen, too. He remembered

Dumbledore crouching at the water's edge two years ago, very close to

where Harry now sat, and conversing in Mermish with the

Merchieftainess. Harry wondered where Dumbledore had learned

Mermish. There was so much he had never asked him, so much he

should have said…

"Where did you learn to speak Mermish Albus?" asked Minerva, "I never

thought to ask."

And then, without warning, it swept over him, the dreadful truth, more

completely and undeniably than it had until now. Dumbledore was

dead, gone… he clutched the cold locket in his hand so tightly that it

hurt, but he could not prevent hot tears spilling from his eyes: he

looked away from Ginny and the others and stared out over the lake,

towards the Forest, as the little man in black droned on… there was

movement among the trees. The centaurs had come to pay their

respects, too.

Minerva nodded approvingly, she only hoped Dolores had a front row seat

and could see them clearly.

They did not move into the open but Harry saw them standing quite

still, half-hidden in shadow, watching the wizards, their bows hanging

at their sides. And Harry remembered his first nightmarish trip into

the Forest, the first time he had ever encountered the thing that was

then Voldemort, and how he had faced him, and how he and

Dumbledore had discussed fighting a losing battle not long thereafter.

It was important, Dumbledore said, to fight, and fight again, and keep

fighting, for only then could evil be kept at bay, though never quite

eradicated…

"That is very true," said Albus, interrupting the reading, which was quite

rare in itself, as he was usually content to let the events unfold around him,

"that is something you must take heed of, there is a muggle saying which

states 'that all that is necessary for evil to triumph is that good men do

nothing'"

"Edmund Burke," said Lily, "he is an Irish philosopher from the 18th

Century."

"Correct, Ms Evans," said Dumbledore approvingly, "Mr Burke was a very

wise man, often it will come down to a simple question, do you want to be a

good man? When one is fighting evil, there are two choices you fight it, or

you help it exist, the problem with sitting on the fence is that the devil owns

the fence. When the time comes will you choose what is right or what is

easy?"

And Harry saw very clearly as he sat there under the hot sun how

people who cared about him had stood in front of him one by one, his

mother, his father, his godfather, and finally Dumbledore, all

determined to protect him; but now that was over.

The room quieted and the mood turned more subdued, as the grim and

bleak future ahead was placed in front of them. Lily and James, could not

help but be saddened by the incomprehensible pain their son must be

feeling, after all having been cared for by their parents and supported by

loving families their whole lives, they could not begin to understand how

lonely Harry must be and the pain which would accompany having lost

everyone they had ever looked up to.

He could not let anybody else stand between him and Voldemort; he

must abandon forever the illusion he ought to have lost at the age of

one: that the shelter of a parent's arms meant that nothing could hurt

him. There was no waking from his nightmare, no comforting whisper

in the dark that he was safe really, that it was all in his imagination; the

last and greatest of his protectors had died and he was more alone than

he had ever been before. The little man in black had stopped speaking

at last and resumed his seat. Harry waited for somebody else to get to

their feet; he expected speeches, probably from the Minister, but

nobody moved.

Then several people screamed. Bright, white flames had erupted

around Dumbledore's body and the table upon which it lay: higher and

higher they rose, obscuring the body. White smoke spiralled into the air

and made strange shapes: Harry thought, for one heart-stopping

moment, that he saw a phoenix fly joyfully into the blue, but next

second the fire had vanished. In its place was a white marble tomb,

encasing Dumbledore's body and the table on which he had rested.

There were a few more cries of shock as a shower of arrows soared

through the air, but they fell far short of the crowd. It was, Harry

knew, the centaurs' tribute: he saw them turn tail and disappear back

into the cool trees. Likewise the merpeople sank slowly back into the

green water and were lost from view.

Minerva sighed, it seemed that was the end of the funeral, for the most part

she was glad, hearing about the funeral of a friend was always trying,

especially when she was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that

her friend and mentor was suddenly dead in the future. Even reading about

the funeral was emotionally exhausting, not because it was beautiful and

touching (even though it was), but because it brought closure and made it

real that Albus Dumbledore was dead. She felt for Harry and Hermione and

all the other people in the future, because they would feel her pain

magnified by a thousand and now had a long and dark road ahead,

especially now that one of the beacons of the light had been extinguished

forever.

Harry looked at Ginny, Ron and Hermione: Ron's face was screwed up

as though the sunlight was blinding him. Hermione's face was glazed

with tears, but Ginny was no longer crying. She met Harry's gaze with

the same hard, blazing look that he had seen when she had hugged him

after winning the Quidditch Cup in his absence, and he knew that at

that moment they understood each other perfectly, and that when he

told her what he was going to do now, she would not say "Be careful",

or "Don't do it", but accept his decision, because she would not have

expected anything less of him.

"Really?" asked Alice, "is that really such a good thing? I doubt I would let

Frank run off and try and save the world without saying a few words."

"Smith, for you to do anything without saying a few words is practically

impossible," pointed out Remus.

"Like you fuzznuts are any better when it comes to being silent," retorted

Alice, "my point however is that if you knew that man, or in some people's

cases woman or animal, you claim to be in love with is about to head off on

a dangerous mission, you would probably say something, you aren't just

going to let him ride off into the sunset while waving a white handkerchief

without saying anything. You would at least let them know that you want

them to be careful and watch out for any heffalumps that could potentially

sit on their heads."

"Surely there would be some credit to her for accepting that he has to do the

task and not trying to complicate it further for him," said Lily, defending

Ginny.

"You love Potter don't you Lils?" asked Alice.

Lily nodded.

"Imagine if he turned around and told you that he was breaking up with you

because he had to go battle a dragon or fight a dark lord, or some other

inane quest, would you just sit there and accept it?"

Several people snorted in disbelief, with Lily's passion and fiery temper

there was no way she would just sit there and accept it. Lily herself thought

about it and had to concede that point as well. She would probably hex

James at least once if he ever broke up with her, if he was doing for a

reason other than the fact he didn't love her anymore, then she would

probably hex him again and make it rather painful. If he did it protect her

and planned to leave her on the sideline while he went out to save the

world, then she doubted it would be pretty, after all if that was the case then

he would be acting like an arrogant and chauvinistic ass, with no respect her

capabilities or desires. However despite this, she felt that Ginny and Harry's

circumstances were different.

"I see your point, however unlike any quest James could be sent on, Ginny

would not be able to go or fight to go, after all she is underage with the

trace on her and would probably be more a hindrance than a help. And also

we don't know how Ginny is going to react and if Harry's predictions are

true or not, after all given Harry's track record with women, it wouldn't

surprise me if he was completely wrong in his assumptions."

This time Alice nodded to concede the point, they had no way of knowing if

Harry was accurate, they needed to read on. Sirius took Alice's nod as his

cue to continue reading.

And so he steeled himself to say what he had known he must say ever

since Dumbledore had died.

"Ginny, listen…" he said very quietly, as the buzz of conversation grew

louder around them and people began to get to their feet. "I can't be

involved with you anymore. We've got to stop seeing each other. We

can't be together."

She said, with an oddly twisted smile, "It's for some stupid, noble

reason, isn't it?"

"It's been like… like something out of someone else's life, these last few

weeks with you," said Harry. "But I can't… we can't… I've got things

to do alone now." She did not cry, she simply looked at him,

"Voldemort uses people his enemies are close to. He's already used you

as bait once, and that was just because you're my best friend's sister.

Think how much danger you'll be in if we keep this up. He'll know,

he'll find out. He'll try and get to me through you."

"Umm hate to point out the flaws in that logic," began Frank.

"Sure you hate it," retoreted Alice with a smile.

"Anyway, given the fact that Snape and Malfoy were both at the school for

the majority of the year, I think His Psychotic Darkness probably already

would know, however he isn't likely going to the told about the break-up, so

really by that logic the danger to Ginny hasn't changed at all."

"What if I don't care?" said Ginny fiercely.

"I care," said Harry. "How do you think I'd feel if this was your

funeral… and it was my fault…"

She looked away from him, over the lake.

"I never really gave up on you," she said. "Not really. I always hoped…

Hermione told me to get on with life, maybe go out with some other

people, relax a bit around you, because I never used to be able to talk if

you were in the room, remember? And she thought you might take a

bit more notice if I was a bit more — myself."

"You really propagated the suggestion that she date other people to make

Harry jealous?" asked Regulus, who was slightly shocked, he wouldn't have

pictured Hermione as someone to encourage people to play with others

affections, but then again after McLaggen, who knows.

"That was not exactly what I said," said Hermione, "I believe what I told

Ginny was more along the lines of 'unless you move on and get over your

crush you are never going to be anything to Harry, after all how is he even

going to talk to you if you can't form a coherent sentence in reply. You need

to get over it and move on to someone else and maybe then you might be

more comfortable and get to know him better.' How Ginny decided to

interpret that is beyond my control, I did not intend to imply she should date

other people to make Harry jealous, what type of person do you think I

am?"

"McLaggen," coughed James.

Hermione merely raised an eyebrow and twirled James' confiscated wand

between her fingers, "do you really want to do that, especially when I have

a wand and you don't?"

Sirius decided it would be prudent to continue before Hermione decided she

was craving venison for dinner.

"Smart girl, that Hermione," said Harry, trying to smile. "I just wish

I'd asked you sooner. We could 've had ages… months… years

maybe…"

"But you've been too busy saving the wizarding world," said Ginny,

half-laughing. "Well… I can't say I'm surprised. I knew this would

happen in the end. I knew you wouldn't be happy unless you were

hunting Voldemort. Maybe that's why I like you so much."

There was a bit of a pause there where everyone considered Ginny's remark,

it definitely wasn't what anyone expected to hear Ginny say, that included

Hermione.

"I don't think dark lord hunting is something that would make anyone

happy, even Harry," commented Remus.

"I don't like it," said Alice.

"Well it can't be completely unexpected for Ginny, she must have known

Harry and been able to predict that he was going to break up with her,"

reasoned Lily, "after all none of us were surprised when the idea was

mentioned in the book and we haven't even met Harry in person yet."

"I don't think she knows Harry at all," snorted Sirius, "I think she is being

superficial and is enamoured with his money, power, fame and connections

and probably couldn't tell the difference between Harry and a pumpkin."

"That was harsh, Sirius," replied Lily.

"I think what Paddy meant to say was that Ginny may have trouble

distinguishing the real Harry from the 'boy who lived' and that she is

imposing some characteristics of a childhood hero onto a person," said

Remus intervening and playing peacemaker, trying to avoid any bloodshed,

after all he has seen Lily throw a mean right-hook on occasion and quite

frankly after the day they had he wouldn't want to push her much further.

"I meant exactly what I said," replied Sirius, who was actually in the mood

for an argument, duel or any other method to relieve the tension of

everything he had learnt in the last few hours, which included the

confirmation of his brother's death and the death of a mentor, "she sounds

like she wants a martyr for a boyfriend, rather than an actual human being."

"What do you think Mie?" asked Regulus curiously, after all Hermione was

the one who knew all parties involved.

"I am actually quite appalled at Ginny to be quite honest," said Hermione,

who was in fact shocked at Ginny's response to Harry's declaration, she had

been too caught up in her own emotions to pay attention at the time, so she

didn't know exactly what was said, in fact the more she thought about it, the

angrier she got. "I think both Lily and Sirius had good points, it is true that

it was rather obvious to everyone what Harry was going to do and that

Ginny had time to get her head around it and think rationally about what

was coming and perhaps she could be commended for the fact she is willing

to accept what is happening. However Sirius is right, I always suspected

that Ginny never got over her crush on the 'boy-who-lived', which apart

from being nurtured from infancy, was reinforced when Harry became her

own personal 'knight in shining armour' after the incident with the Chamber

of Secrets. However despite all this, I expected Ginny to at least wish him

luck, tell him to be careful or give him some encouragement to let him

know that despite everything going on she would support him. You would

think she could at least say that she believed in him and that despite not

being with him she would continue to fight and be there if she could help in

any way."

"You're ranting," observed Remus dryly to Hermione, when she looked

ready to continue her frustrated verbal regurgitation.

"How observant," retorted Hermione, "seven years of education and you are

able to tell when someone is ranting. You have my congratulations. That is

quite the achievement."

"That is quite enough," interrupted Minvera, when it looked like tempers

could flare and the room could descend into anarchy, "Now we are close to

finishing the book, squabbling like school children over the romantic life of

two people who are not here is not productive, so could we please move

on!"

Sirius looked like he wanted to argue for a minute before rolling his eyes

and turning back to the book.

Harry could not bear to hear these things (I don't blame him, murmured

Hermione) , nor did he think his resolution would hold if he remained

sitting beside her. Ron, he saw, was now holding Hermione and

stroking her hair while she sobbed into his shoulder, tears dripping

from the end of his own long nose. With a miserable gesture, Harry got

up, turned his back on Ginny and on Dumbledore's tomb and walked

away around the lake. Moving felt much more bearable than sitting

still: just as setting out as soon as possible to track down the Horcruxes

and kill Voldemort would feel better than waiting to do it…

"Harry!"

He turned. Rufus Scrimgeour was limping rapidly towards him around

the bank, leaning on his walking stick.

"Is it illegal to punch the Minister of Magic?" asked James curiously.

"Unfortunately yes," said Minerva. The rather daring headboy raised an

eyebrow at his head of house at the use of the word 'unfortunately', who

knew the straight-laced head could have repressed desires to punch

'upstanding', ministry officials.

"I've been hoping to have a word… do you mind if I walk a little way

with you?"

"No," said Harry indifferently, and set off again.

"Harry, this was a dreadful tragedy," said Scrimgeour quietly, "I

cannot tell you how appalled I was to hear of it. Dumbledore was a very

great wizard. We had our disagreements, as you know, but no one

knows better than I —"

"Enough political bull, can't he just get to the point?" asked James.

"What do you want?" asked Harry flatly.

"Thank you, a son after my own heart."

Scrimgeour looked annoyed but, as before, hastily modified his

expression to one of sorrowful understanding.

"You are, of course, devastated," he said. "I know that you were very

close to Dumbledore. I think you may have been his favourite pupil

ever. The bond between the two of you —"

"Once again, enough politics," said James, "is his powers of observation so

lacking that he can't see that he is not doing himself any favours, Harry

would probably respect him more if he just got to the point."

"He is probably doing it, because he knows that Harry is not going like the

point when he finally gets to it," guessed Remus, "Who ever thought that

the future head of the aurors would be such a coward?"

"I think we all know what the point is going to be," said James, "and Moony

is right, my son is not going to like it."

"What do you want?" Harry repeated, coming to a halt.

Scrimgeour stopped too, leaned on his stick and stared at Harry, his

expression shrewd now.

"The word is that you were with him when he left the school the night

that he died."

"Whose word?" said Harry.

"Somebody Stupefied a Death Eater on top of the Tower after

Dumbledore died. There were also two broomsticks up there. The

Ministry can add two and two, Harry."

"Oh goodie, they have finally made being able to count a perquisite for

working at the ministry, I was beginning to wonder," remarked Alice.

"Glad to hear it," said Harry. "Well, where I went with Dumbledore

and what we did is my business. He didn't want people to know."

"Such loyalty is admirable, of course," said Scrimgeour, who seemed to

be restraining his irritation with difficulty, "but Dumbledore is gone,

Harry. He's gone"

"We noticed," said Minerva, Rufus Scrimgeour, despite his ability to beat

around the bush like a true politician seemed to lack tact and certain people

skills. Although that could just be the remnants of her frustration and

sadness at the situation talking.

"He will only be gone from the school when none here are loyal to

him," said Harry, smiling in spite of himself.

Hermione smiled wryly, she was feeling somewhat emotional reliving all of

this. "And here I thought Harry never paid attention to what professors

said."

Everyone looked at her not understanding the context of her remark.

Hermione took pity on them and decided to explain, "The headmaster said

that during our second year, after the board of governors, otherwise known

as the puppets of Lucius Malfoy, decided to suspend him due to the

Chamber of Secrets incident. Harry is not usually the type to parrot the

words of a teacher, that was always my job."

"My dear boy… even Dumbledore cannot return from the —"

"I am not saying he can. You wouldn't understand. But I've got nothing

to tell you."

"I bet he liked that," said James, "the minister being told that he 'wouldn't

understand', that had to hurt him... I like my son, he has a natural talent for

annoying authority figures."

"Like father, like son it seems Mr Potter," remarked Minerva wryly.

Scrimgeour hesitated, then said, in what was evidently supposed to be a

tone of delicacy, "The Ministry can offer you all sorts of protection, you

know, Harry. I would be delighted to place a couple of my Aurors at

your service —"

Harry laughed.

"So would I," said Sirius, interrupting himself, "after all they wouldn't be

anything more that spies for the ministry, reporting back everything that

Harry is doing. Besides I don't have much confidence in the Ministry at the

best of times, but if Umbridge is a measure of calibre of employees it would

be a liability for Harry to have them know, because I daresay Tommy-Gun

has spies and informants in the ministry, so letting the ministry know would

be rather dangerous. Besides telling the ministry of fools to shove it is

always fun."

"You have an excellent point about the aurors being informants and the

risks of Tom then finding out from his vast network of spies and

informants," praised Dumbledore, as he himself had been contemplating the

same thing.

"Voldemort wants to kill me himself and Aurors won't stop him. So

thanks for the offer, but no thanks."

"So," said Scrimgeour, his voice cold now, "the request I made of you at

Christmas —"

"What request? Oh yeah… the one where I tell the world what a great

job you're doing in exchange for — "

"— for raising everyone's morale!" snapped Scrimgeour.

Harry considered him for a moment.

"Released Stan Shunpike yet?"

"Why is Stan such a sore point for Harry?" asked Lily, she understood the

injustice, but didn't understand why it was such a deal-breaker for Harry.

"That one is easy, Lily-Flower," said James, giving her a reassuring

squeeze, "being wrongly imprisoned in Az is a sore point for Harry, because

of what happened to Sirius. What might just be an injustice of some is a big

deal for Harry, because he is probably able to see the correlation between

the two instances, both being thrown in Azkaban without a trial, completely

innocent of any wrong-doing, in order to advertise the fact that the ministry

is doing a good job during a time of crisis. And like most ads in the world,

the message is completely false and a crock of dragon's dung."

Scrimgeour turned a nasty purple colour highly reminiscent of Uncle

Vernon.

"I see you are —"

"Dumbledore's man through and through," said Harry. "That's right."

Scrimgeour glared at him for another moment, then turned and limped

away without another word. Harry could see Percy and the rest of the

Ministry delegation waiting for him, casting nervous glances at the

sobbing Hagrid and Grawp, who were still in their seats. Ron and

Hermione were hurrying towards Harry, passing Scrimgeour going in

the opposite direction; Harry turned and walked slowly on, waiting for

them to catch up, which they finally did in the shade of a beech tree

under which they had sat in happier times.

"What did Scrimgeour want?" Hermione whispered.

"Same as he wanted at Christmas," shrugged Harry. "Wanted me to

give him inside information on Dumbledore and be the Ministry's new

poster boy."

Ron seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, then he said loudly

to Hermione, "Look, let me go back and hit Percy!"

"No," she said firmly, grabbing his arm.

"It'll make me feel better!"

That remark created a few snickers and was able to diffuse some of the

sadness and tension in the room, better than any sarcastic remarks could.

Harry laughed. Even Hermione grinned a little, though her smile faded

as she looked up at the castle.

"I can't bear the idea that we might never come back." she said softly.

"How can Hogwarts close?"

"Maybe it won't," said Ron. "We're not in any more danger here than

we are at home, are we? Everywhere's the same now. I'd even say

Hogwarts is safer, there are more wizards inside to defend the place.

What d'you reckon, Harry?"

"Ron has a very good point," said Minerva, "even without Albus the

warding on Hogwarts is rather formidable and educating and training the

next generation will be invaluable, after all while most parents can help

with homework and assist their children, they would not be qualified to

teach the students properly and help them learn to defen themselves."

"On the downside a school full of impressionable students is a very

valuable and desirable target," pointed out Sirius, "one which Tom will

want to win and gain control of. Not only because of it's sentimental value

(if dark lords even have feelings and sentiments), but also being able to

indoctrinate the next generation of wizards into little minions and

deatheaters in training is a great tactical asset as well."

"Such a ray of sunshine Paddy," observed Remus, although his friend did

make an excellent point.

"That's me, sunshine on a cloudy day," remarked Sirius.

"And let me guess, when it is cold outside, you're the month of May?" said

Hermione, with a slight smile.

"That's my girl," replied Sirius with a smile. Hermione rolled her eyes and

Sirius took that as his cue to keep reading.

"I'm not coming back even if it does reopen," said Harry.

"Why not?" asked Lily, "he needs his education, how can Harry hunt

horcruxes if he doesn't have a full education?"

"I think the opposite in fact Lily," said Severus quietly, "Harry is the only

one who is able to hunt down the horcruxes at present, and that is the most

important thing at the moment. Learning about goblin rebellions and

suffering through lectures on the importance of NEWTs for a year would be

a waste of time. Your son has proven himself to be a remarkable student

when he values what he is learning, he will probably learn more and teach

himself more while looking for horcruxes, than he would in a classroom.

While I agree education is important, Harry will be able to achieve more

outside of a classroom than inside of one."

"Besides," said Regulus, "he will have two companions, one of which is a

remarkable witch, who is more than able to help him learn anything he feels

he needs to know." Hermione bestowed a smile on Regulus for that

comment.

Ron gaped at him, but Hermione said sadly, "I knew you were going to

say that. But then what will you do?"

"I'm going back to the Dursleys' once more, because Dumbledore

wanted me to," said Harry. "But it'll be a short visit, and then I'll be

gone for good."

"I am glad," said Lily, with a sad smile, 'while Tuney and I are not the best

of friends anymore, I don't want her to be killed. Harry going back there

will give them at least some protection until he turns 17 and a chance for

them all to figure out another way to stay safe, perhaps they can move

overseas?"

"But where will you go if you don't come back to school?"

"I thought I might go back to Godric's Hollow," Harry muttered.

He had had the idea in his head ever since the night of Dumbledore's

death. "For me, it started there, all of it. I've just got a feeling I need to

go there. And I can visit my parents' graves, I'd like that."

Lily was struck by a horrible thought, "has he ever seen our graves?"

Hermione shook her head, "definitely not while at Hogwarts and I can't see

his Aunt and Uncle taking him."

"He should go then," said Lily, upset again, the thought that her only son

would grow up without ever get the chance to see where his parents lived

and died was sad, after all, everyone deserves at least that, "he deserves the

closure, it would help him heal and remind him that he has a family that

will love him, even if we aren't physically there anymore."

"And then what?" said Ron.

"Then I've got to track down the rest of the Horcruxes, haven't I?" said

Harry, his eyes upon Dumbledore's white tomb, reflected in the water

on the other side of the lake. "That's what he wanted me to do, that's

why he told me all about them. If Dumbledore was right — and I'm

sure he was — there are still four of them out there. I've got to find

them and destroy them and then I've got to go after the seventh bit of

Voldemort's soul, the bit that's still in his body, and I'm the one who's

going to kill him. And if I meet Severus Snape along the way," he

added, "so much the better for me, so much the worse for him."

James made the mistake of smiling at that remark, however he quickly

rearranged his features into something less jubilant after he was glared into

submission by Lily, who was finally stepping back into the position of

defender of Severus Snape.

There was a long silence. The crowd had almost dispersed now, the

stragglers giving the monumental figure of Grawp a wide berth as he

cuddled Hagrid, whose howls of grief were still echoing across the

water.

"We'll be there, Harry," said Ron.

"What?"

"At your aunt and uncle's house," said Ron.

"And then we'll go with you, wherever you're going."

"No —" said Harry quickly; he had not counted on this, he had meant

them to understand that he was undertaking this most dangerous

journey alone.

"Oh I am sure they understood just fine, however your son is remarkably

dim if he really thought Mie and Won-won would let him go save the world

alone," remarked Alice.

"Well he is half-Prongs after all," observed Remus, poking fun at his friend.

"You said to us once before," said Hermione quietly, "that there was

time to turn back if we wanted to. We've had time, haven't we?"

"We're with you whatever happens," said Ron. "But, mate, you're

going to have to come round my mum and dad's house before we do

anything else, even Godric's Hollow."

"Why?"

"Bill and Fleur's wedding, remember?"

"Beware the wrath of a pissed-off veela," said Frank, "I think that could

possibly be more scary than he-who-lacks-a-nose."

"You have no idea," said Hermione, she remembered a scene in the final

battle where a death eater when Fleur saw a death eater try and attack a

young girl, suffice to say he got some fireballs in delicate places and several

other spells which made him regret his very existence.

Harry looked at him, startled; the idea that anything as normal as a

wedding could still exist seemed incredible and yet wonderful.

"Yeah, we shouldn't miss that," he said finally.

His hand closed automatically around the fake Horcrux, but in spite of

everything, in spite of the dark and twisting path he saw stretching

ahead for himself, in spite of the final meeting with Voldemort he knew

must come, whether in a month, in a year, or in ten, he felt his heart lift

at the thought that there was still one last golden day of peace left to

enjoy with Ron and Hermione.

"And that is the end of the book," said Sirius.

"Thank Merlin for that," said Alice, a few people looked at her, "what? I

need to use the toilet."

"That was a rather... intense book," summarised Frank, "I can't imagine the

next one is going to be any better."

Hermione shook her head, "I think I should give you some warning, the

next book has some very shocking and tragic revelations, and it will be

tough on everyone, especially me, because I will have to relive some very

bad memories, so I will give you fair warning, I will probably be moody

and emotional and might snap occasionally, so unless for some reason you

deserve it, please don't take it personally."

"Perhaps, if I may be so bold as to suggest that everyone has something to

eat and gets a good night's sleep, as it will help calm any tempers, after all

we do not want to deal with unnecessary anger or frustration caused by

fatigue or hangovers for that matter, so keep that in mind please and try to

relax," advised Albus, who was looking forward to burying himself in some

paperwork while he organised his own thoughts and following that same

advice himself.

"Also," said Minerva speaking up, "I must ask you not to leave the room, as

the rest of the school believes you are all in quarantine with the usual post-

holiday flu epidemic, which is why none of you are in class, so please do

not leave, as this will counter-act your 'get-out of class free' card."

"Unfortunately paperwork won't do itself, so Minerva and I will have to bid

you farewell for the rest of today, we are trusting that despite any frayed

tempers the school will still be standing when return tomorrow. I will get

the elves to send up some food and drink for you to enjoy. Remember,

please try and have a relaxing evening. We will see you tomorrow morning,

like normal."

Everyone nodded their assent and the Professors swept out of the room,

leaving the group to their own devices once again.

"Mie, would you please give us our wands back now that we have finished

the book?" asked Lily politely. Hermione nodded her assent and passed the

confiscated wands back to their rightful owners.

James took the opportunity once he got his to immediately turn and hex

Remus and Sirius, no doubt in retaliation for the teasing they inflicted upon

him during previous chapters. This of course created a mock three-way duel

between the marauders in the room, Hermione watched on eagerly, it was

easily the more creative duel she had seen to date, as the three boys

currently had animated plush versions of their animal forms fighting on the

floor. It seems that pranking and fighting each other was a good source of

relief for the three boys.

Lily in turn met Severus' eye and they got up and moved to another part of

the room, where they spoke for a few minutes, before starting their own

duel, which reminded Hermione strongly of the one they had back in the

forth book, where they were throwing spells at each other to vent off their

frustration, it was blaringly obvious that this was an obvious occurrence in

the past, as they dodged each other's spells with a practiced ease. Hermione

had a suspicion that the marauders themselves would have provided enough

frustration for duelling to become a regular occurrence between the two

friends.

"Do you mind if I go for a run until the food arrives," asked Regulus

quietly, "I enjoy running as it is a good way to get my thoughts in order and

I kind of need one after everything we have learned."

Hermione nodded, "trust me, I understand completely, I was planning on

curling up with a book for a bit. I need a distraction and a bit more time to

spend in denial before tomorrow."

Regulus nodded, "let me know if you need someone to talk to."

"You too, I know reading about what is going to happen to you cannot be

easy, so if you need a willing ear, just let me know, I would say you could

use Longbottom or Smith, but they seem rather preoccupied at the

moment," said Regulus, glancing at the remaining couple who were lost in

their own world at present.

"Go run, I will be more than fine here reading, middle-earth is calling me at

the moment, so I wouldn't be very good company either."

Regulus nodded, squeezed Hermione's hand and headed off.

Food arrived about half an hour later, fish and chips with a rather delicious

looking chocolate cake. The half hour to themselves, did everyone a lot of

good. Most of the tension seemed to have drained from the atmosphere and

people were in much better moods, everyone dug in (Remus was

particularly fond of the cake, with the full moon about a week away he was

craving chocolate) and had fun talking amongst themselves and telling

stories about the past and future alike. Hermione was touched, that after

dinner everyone did indeed settle down and play some games with each

other, and she was able to educate some poor wizards about the joy of

cluedo, scrabble and monopoly. Overall, it was a quiet night, which was a

needed relief after the tensions of the day. However despite the current air

of good humour, there were two questions left unanswered. How long

would this reprieve last? And what startling revelations would tomorrow

bring?

AN: Thanks for Reading, please review. Cheers!

31. Chapter 31

Sequel:

Hi all, the next story is now up, the link is on my profile. Thank you so

much for reading my humble musings and I hope you have enjoyed reading

them as much as I enjoy writing them

Cheers!

RandomReader90