Widows' Walk, Chapter 17

We deal with an assortment of matters here, from parting out a dead basilisk to a double batch of Wolfsbane and at the end, a chess game which ends in a surprising draw.

I had no idea it was THAT long since I updated…

Albus Dumbledore peered over his half-glasses at Snape, Minerva, Harry, and young Mr. Weasley in his office. The quiet whirr of his shelves full of 'toys' formed a backdrop to his words. "I have devised a document which splits all the gains from the sale of basilisk remains into eight parts. One share should go to Hogwarts itself as its long home and resting place. Three shares to Mr. Potter here, as the slayer of the beast and the only one who can open the door to its lair. Two shares should go to Professor Snape, for directing the dissection of it into proper ingredients and as the broker for the sale. The remaining two shares should go to Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger. Is there some reason she isn't here?"

Snape raised one eyebrow but let this bit of 'blatant favoritism' pass, no doubt thinking of his own two shares.

Harry spoke up. "She said she'd leave the work for us this time. I guess she's still not all the way well from last summer." He looked wretched as he said it. Given how those injuries occurred, perhaps rightly so.

The Potions Master interjected. "She still wishes to work with me on the next batch of Wolfsbane. Madam Pomfrey might not object to one activity or the other but could well put her foot down on both." Severus once again sat with his back all the way against the chair, which he only did when he was quite exhausted himself. Albus hoped the younger man would indeed give both boys much to do on this project—the Swiss had warned him that Snape's latest stay had worn him out more than usual.

"How very sensible," Professor McGonagall said. "And I hope that members of my own House will still pay attention to their studies while this is going on. This need not happen overnight in any case. What is left of the monster will keep as it has for several years already." She gave both boys a searing look. "Since neither of you are in History of Magic, you will need to find other opportunities for napping."

"I will supervise Mr. Weasley to some extent since he's my assistant till the beginning of spring Quidditch," Snape said, who didn't look enthused about it.

Neither did young Weasley. However, with Winky in the picture, he wasn't likely to be starved or overworked.

Dumbledore didn't really want to redo the calculations. Then he thought of a purpose which would pass muster. "Perhaps that share should go to the library? They could use the funds to continue subscriptions to the periodical library and repair some of the older books."

"That's the same as giving it to Hermione anyway," the red-haired Gryffindor said with a laugh. "Harry?"

"Yeah, some of them we need for homework are falling apart," Mr. Potter said. "And I didn't even know there were magazines till this year. I mean, we try to be careful with books, but some of them are really old. Madam Pince won't let us check some of them out because of that."

Both Severus and Minerva nodded their agreement. No wonder, since both had complained about the condition of some of the references they normally directed students to use. No doubt Madam Pince would be delighted at this windfall. Albus himself lost track of the years at his age. Surely thirty years ago was the 1930's, not the 1960's! Some of the books they had might be a couple of centuries old—he hadn't looked through the library catalog for quite some time. I should go through the Restricted Section to clean out the worst again, though perhaps having the Darkest ones in my personal library is not the best idea. I wish I could destroy the very worst of them, and yet the portraits shout me down if I mention that. Then he realized exactly why he needed to keep a few of them. The Ghost Dagger that had silenced Snape for a few dreadful hours had been used ages ago, but perhaps there was a counter to it which didn't require a ghost. Since Madam Lestrange had used it once, she was likely to use it again.

Dumbledore took out his quill and revised the name of the recipient of the final eighth share of the proceeds from the basilisk. He mentioned the clause which allowed Severus to take part of his share in kind as well as in Galleons and it was approved by all the parties present, once he was able to find out how much those basilisk bits were worth. Snape took an oath to value everything fairly, since he would be the one acting as broker and appraiser for most.

Albus was pleased to see nobody complained, and that the other man's shields were mostly down with no mental reservations about his promise. He was also very happy about another source of income for both Hogwarts and the Order which need not be reported to the Board of Governors. He suspected that all the other parties were going to keep these funds off the books as well. Harry would be happy to have funds to help his new family, which the Ministry could not fuss about. Mr. Weasley would be tested with wealth. Snape had mentioned the boy was to receive an allowance, so there would be a good outward reason if he threw money around. Madam Pince was certainly not going to ask questions about anything which would help her keep the library in good shape, and Severus deserved to be reimbursed for extra labor. Plus, his presents to others at Hogwarts this year were more generous than usual—no doubt he had been so with his social obligations on the other side as well. It was wrong to keep his younger friend short of funds.

He still planned to send out a begging letter over new brooms to the wealthier families. Madam Hooch had often complained about how old the brooms she had were, and no doubt the children did so as well. Telling the parents that the ones they had learned on were still here would undoubtedly do the trick. There was some amusement value watching Muggleborn children having to deal with them, but a few of the brooms had simply fallen apart and could no longer be dealt with by renewing the charms. I would not care to tell Miss Granger, for instance, that the reason she had such difficulty was from the equipment and not any lack in her own magic. At least she'd been given a better one for her remedials.

He had been surprised when none of the other Houses followed Slytherin's example and simply purchased better ones for the whole team and not just for one special Seeker. Perhaps he ought to hint at the advantage that team had because of that to certain parents?

"Headmaster?" Minerva said, adding a fake cough for good measure.

He surfaced out of his thoughts and back to his office. "Ah, yes. I now ask both you boys to do as much of the labor required to clear the area, since Professor Snape must do the rest by harvesting the parts and preparing them for sale. Harry, please make yourself available whenever necessary to enter the Chamber. As the professor is still on potions for his health, it would be best to avoid him having to visit the clinic more often. Madam Pomfrey would be quite upset. We all know she can make her displeasure known."

Both lads nodded vigorously, while Snape merely grimaced. Then Albus looked at everyone in the room. "Try to avoid becoming sick or injured during this next week. She will have a guest from Switzerland for a few days and would dislike interruptions."

Snape almost smiled. No doubt he would enjoy a chat with the elder Master Lowenstein when he wasn't flat on his back. Albus realized that he shouldn't interrupt his potions master during this next week, either. I sometimes have him here just to have someone to talk to who can keep up with me. Perhaps I should send an owl to Tom to ask him the same thing? Severus didn't get much rest for Christmas break till he went to Switzerland.

He dismissed everyone but his Deputy, feeling quite cheerful at the thought of extra Galleons coming in.

Once they were gone, Minerva had clearly thought about Christmas as well. "I heard Auror Moody was here right before the staff dinner, but didn't stay. I'm surprised we didn't have a quick conference about the Order while we all had time."

Albus was surprised, too, now that he thought about it. "Severus gave him his Christmas present then. It was an hour with Veritaserum and Winky there to make sure things didn't go too far. Alastor still doesn't like her, even after all this time. Snape offered me the memory, but I've already meddled too much there. He joked that I just didn't want to hear the two of them agree that Gryffindor should be outlawed when I refused."

The older woman snorted. "I can't say I blame them. With you as Head, and me as Deputy and Head of Gryffindor, while you used to be both before? Why should any other House trust us? Severus has finally given up, while Filius and Pomona did that decades ago. I suspect they warned him when he first arrived here, but he had so much faith in you at first."

Dumbledore winced. "Yes, letting him organize his Slytherins when they were still allowed to win the House Cup probably gave him the wrong idea."

"You have only yourself to blame, Albus," Minerva said sharply. "That first Leaving Feast with Harry and his friends here I nearly went to the Board of Governors myself. By now it wouldn't make any difference. After last year, Umbridge's own favoritism has made almost everyone resigned to your own. I have no idea why the Weasley twins were concerned about having points taken from them, except they probably realized that there would be no special bonuses from her. Granted, even some of the Slytherins were cheering her departure, though they tried to avoid being noticed." She grinned, then became sober. "No doubt Mr. Montague's continuing health problems were considered a small sacrifice."

"I haven't noticed much trouble in the halls so far this year," the Headmaster said. Montague's parents had been angry at first and then resigned that nothing would be done. Rather like Severus himself at the time.

"No, Severus is keeping his in line this year, but he can only do so much if we let ours run rampant. Fortunately, several of the troublemakers play Quidditch, so I can use that to keep them mostly well-behaved," McGonagall said. "Please do not call in any of my malefactors for biscuits and extra points. We've tried that in the past and it has not worked well. Since Snape must supervise the Trio this year, allow him to manage them while I keep an eye on the rest."

"What?" It seemed that his Deputy had seen through his arrangements.

"Mr. Weasley as his assistant this winter, Mr. Potter for ah, Remedial Potions, and now both boys on basilisk duty. Miss Granger will no doubt do what she can to learn how to make the Wolfsbane potion. It would be fair, I suppose, to take a few of his under my wing." She looked as if she was considering it seriously.

"I will have Mr. Andreas as my mascot for the rest of this year," he pointed out. Then he realized he hadn't actually told the boy when he could come up yet. "Perhaps I should take over another Sunday chocolate session with the first years there."

"That would be wise," she said. "They have likely heard the usual horror stories from the older Slytherins, but they might still listen if one of their own has a better experience." Then she took out her notebook and her quill. "So, what has the Order done during this surprisingly quiet season? Any great plans for the future, or do we wait until the other side acts?"

Albus knew that she was right to ask. "So far, we have simply enjoyed it. Yet if the calm continues, Minister Fudge will lapse into his usual coma."

Minerva looked keenly at him. And she was right to do so. He had drifted quite a bit during this last meeting with the others. "Madam Umbridge will insist that Tom is just a phantom again as well. I wish she had faced some kind of penalty for using a Blood Quill. A cursed artifact like that usually draws three years in Azkaban."

Dumbledore shrugged. "Influence and money talk louder than the laws on the books," he said. "Even though the elder Malfoy is now there, many other families bought their way out."

"She was also careful about her choice of victims," the older woman said with bitterness. She looked as if she wanted to supervise detention on the former Headmistress. "That is not an example for us to follow any more. I am happy that tensions here have lessened, but I am not foolish enough to think it will hold all year if we manage things the way we have in the past."

"Young Malfoy has learned to hold his tongue, or use charm instead of whining," he said.

"Why not? He knows he'll be considered at fault if anything happens."

Dumbledore was startled. He was used to hearing that from Snape, but not McGonagall. He sighed. "I suppose you're right. He isn't as friendless as Severus was, or as skilled at gathering followers as Tom was, but I have to admit we both enjoyed the pranks on all three of them."

"I wouldn't call them pranks, Albus," she said. "I know, I laughed as much as you did at some of them. We both overlooked much for Mr. Lupin's sake. Remus still leans on his charm and a certain flexibility with the truth to get his way at times, but we taught him it would work. And…yet, plans?"

He nodded. "We need to keep things fair for all the houses. If only the feud between the Weasleys and the Malfoys could be managed. However, if young Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy learn how to deal with each other assisting Professor Snape, that would help."

"So, Severus will have that responsibility as well," Minerva said and took more notes. "Still, there was less animosity than usual during the fall Quidditch season. It was a surprise to see the Hufflepuff team act up, but I suppose it's their turn. Madam Hooch has some theories on it and wasn't afraid to discuss them during the break. And yet, the Order?"

Albus wished she wasn't quite so stubborn, but it was probably good for everyone that she was. "I wish I had plans. It seems that they are on the tip of my tongue, and then an hour has passed, and someone is here with a problem. I fear Tom can draw from both the living and the dead to remain among us, but I don't know what to do about that. However, Filius is working on the Dark Mark and how to break its hold. Severus has told me he would be happy to reduce the numbers of the living Death Eaters at need, but I don't want to sacrifice him needlessly."

"He would be the first to understand," Minerva said in a flat voice. "Still, if what you say is true, it would not help as much as any of us would like."

"If any others have left Britain, we haven't heard of them. But perhaps you and Alastor should have another talk with Filius on the problem."

She nodded briskly. Then she looked somber. "If there is some way you can record your ideas while you are er, thinking hard? Perhaps it would be easier if Moody and I come up with possible solutions and then bring them to you? All final decisions should be yours, Albus, but the school takes a great deal from you."

He sighed. What she hadn't said was 'when Umbridge was in charge you were able to run the Order with your whole mind and not just half of it'. And…once he was through drifting and had come to any helpful conclusion, he could pull that memory out and look at it in his Pensieve. "I know it seems like we are always delaying till Harry is old enough to fulfil his part in the prophecy, and sadly, you are partly correct. We should do more." If only he knew what.

McGonagall tapped her notebook with the nib of her quill. "Filius has spoken to a couple of Death Eaters in Azkaban who have volunteered for any tests including physical amputation. Perhaps we haven't looked at the problem hard enough. No doubt some of Tom's supporters aren't Marked, but it could be productive to find out which ones are. We already have names of those who pleaded they were under the Imperius. Wouldn't it be fascinating to find out which ones wanted it removed by floating the rumor that it could be done? After all, they are in grave danger of being forced to do evil again if they don't. And it could be entertaining to find out who isn't enthused." She snickered.

"It would help if we actually had a method of removing it," Albus said morosely. "Perhaps we should find out."

Minerva nodded. "Filius will be done with his late afternoon remedials by now."

Dumbledore called for tea and sent a quick message. The tiny Charms Professor arrived, who looked like he needed a break anyway. Once settled, Flitwick said, "I wish I had more to report. One fellow wished I would cut it out if I could leave him most of his arm. I used a spell to monitor it when he said he was in the most pain, and something radiated underneath the surface like a ghastly beating heart. I don't think the influence spread past the shoulder joint, though. I fear physical removal might not help much. I plan to tell Severus as much. It would only be right to know what options he has."

Albus knew that he and Filius would have to have a public disagreement soon, as they had discussed when the Charms professor had revealed his work as Manticore during the Grindelwald war, but not today. They would need some private meetings to work out the scenario. He supposed he ought to tell his Deputy and Moody before doing so. However, he didn't need to start it today. "Were there any spells that helped at all?" he asked.

Flitwick sighed. "A healing spell I use for migraines worked for a few hours, but didn't last. I will talk to Poppy to ask her if she can think of any reason for that. I wonder if there's a connection with the brain with the Dark Mark? It would make removing it more difficult, but it could explain some of the problems those who bear one have."

"Perhaps we ought to be thankful any of them want to be rid of it," Minerva said, looking thoughtful.

He thought of something. "I knew a case where someone who was using Polyjuice was in a fire but was able to move out before it stopped working. His original shape didn't have any burns, at least none to speak of. Could that have any relevance?"

The Charms professor looked startled. "I should talk about that with Madam Pomfrey as well. I wouldn't be able to take any into Azkaban, of course, but I suppose Severus might prove cooperative. It would be interesting to see if the Mark carried over."

Minerva sat bolt upright. "Perhaps it would work for an Auror to drink some if wounded in battle? At least they would have time to reach St. Mungo's for treatment."

Dumbledore blinked. "Or keep them in a battle somewhat longer. Young Mr. Crouch retained Moody's form for a full day, if not more, through repeated doses."

Sadly, the meeting dissolved with no firm plans, though Filius took off to consult with Poppy. He should have directed the two with them to come up with some ideas based on what they had discussed. Soon there would be a full meeting of the Order. Fortunately, Mrs. Weasley had reached an understanding with Kreacher, so the place was still livable. However, he could foresee when it might not be usable. I don't want to use the Burrow, though no doubt the family would be all right with it. I really don't want Hogwarts to be the only bastion. I should research some alternate locations.

He forced himself to write that much down and then made another notation about Polyjuice. I have been tempted to enjoy the use of a younger body. Might I think more clearly if my shell was less aged? It could be worth a trial, though with Poppy's assistance. He made a note about that as well. He wasn't sure he had any hair from his younger self, but it would be worth looking for some. Albus briefly amused himself with imagining everyone in the Order changing into Hagrid for any sort of mass battle.

He recalled a discussion with Severus about eliminating the Inner Circle—Mrs. Malfoy would try to secure her sister in some other location, while offering the use of the punchbowl to his Potions professor. Albus had been so tempted by the thought that he'd nearly said, "Bugger waiting till Harry is old enough, let me call Moody and we'll work it out."

But that would mean all his careful planning for the Trio would have been wasted. He wasn't quite ready to do that—though an unexpected victory could have happened at the Ministry last spring. If only I could have held Tom in place just one moment longer! He sighed. Harry and his friends could have died that day as well.

Dumbledore hoped Flitwick's research would bear fruit—one theory about Riddle was that he drained vitality from his Marked people, whether they were alive or dead. Reducing the number of living followers would work only if someone could cut the connection to the dead ones. He didn't want to delve into necromancy unless he must.

He drank some tea. He knew he was failing as a leader. Additional resources would help, of course, but not much if he couldn't give anyone directions.

It felt so odd to not have any answers to the many questions Snape, Moody and most of all, Minerva, had. Yes, I should see Poppy.

Snape looked over the catalog Potter had given him. It had a second address label pasted over another, and so he peeled it off. Ah, so the original had been sent to someone in Little Hangleton. He knew who else lived in the area since he'd carefully explored the area after various meetings.

And then the Knut dropped. The Dark Lord wants me to have access to the Chamber of Secrets, along with a source of funds the Ministry and Gringotts know nothing about. He clearly guessed well who would have to process the parts for any sale. Meanwhile, the Headmaster gave me his blessing as well since it would benefit the Trio. I wonder if I'll be given a shopping list for the rest of the Chamber soon? But having access without the boy's presence could still be a problem.

Well, it would be difficult without a Speaking Stone, which Professor Flitwick was going to give him. Snape knew he would need it anyway, because Miss Granger was going to have more than enough questions to fill one up, possibly two of them. He wouldn't need much of the space in one to record what Mr. Potter said to enter the Chamber. He would need a bit of private practice to imitate that, but once done, that part of the Stone could be erased.

He remembered what else he would need and decided to visit Hagrid. Besides, it had been almost a week since he'd let Fang and Patsy drool on him. He didn't know what the half-giant was feeding the puppy, but he could swear the beast which once fit in his pocket was double that size already. I should be grading, but this is better, he thought, as he sat in the big guest chair and felt buried in drooling dogs. It took a short while for Hagrid to bring what he needed, since they were now raised on an adjacent property in case some idiot got ideas again.

Harry and Ron waited in the girls' loo and chatted with Moaning Myrtle, who seemed in good spirits. Harry asked if she'd had a nice Christmas.

"Oh, yes! All us ghosts had a lovely feast. The elves are so helpful, the way they are with the Death-Day celebration. Nick is such a flirt! The Headmaster burned some presents for us. Wasn't that sweet? I have a mirror I can see myself in now."

Harry only pretended to smile, because he didn't like thinking about mirrors. If only he'd opened his present from Sirius when he'd received it! I wish my godfather had mentioned them when we talked at the Floo. I could have had a lot more time with him and Remus without worrying about the Toad. It hurt to think that Sirius didn't think of things either. He must not have told Remus about the present, or surely, he would have reminded us.

At least he's here this year. Who knows what horror would have taught in his place. At least I was never fooled by Umbridge the way I was by fake Moody. Then he had another thought. We shouldn't go anywhere during the full moon. Harry hated thinking that his friend might forget his potion again. It felt weird to be suspicious of Lupin but trust Snape. Of course, it was a bit late to worry. Both he and Ron would be under the earth with only the Potions master around in a few minutes. I should remember that he's had endless chances at me already.

Myrtle floated off, probably to harass whoever was taking a bath somewhere. Ron yawned. "I'm glad I don't have Astronomy this year. I guess our teacher has a lie-in every morning, but I'm just not a night person. Dad was, and so is Bill, but I'm more like Mum that way."

"But Sinistra can't be a vampire, she's in direct sun some of the time in the Great Hall," Harry said. "Just like Snape out for Quidditch our first year." He remembered Hermione pointing that kind of thing out both times. She'd used the phrase, "A lovely theory slain by an ugly fact" and sighed dramatically along with it.

He would almost rather be in the Common room right now with her throwing quills at the two of them as a reminder about homework—but being here meant money he could send to his new family without the Ministry getting involved. Mum had told them she had plenty for a few months and by then the pension should come in, but of course she would say that.

But there should be an article in the Prophet if the Ministry sat on it too long, or so Harry hoped. If she tells us. We should have some of this money long before then and send some to her anyway.

Then Snape arrived, holding a broom in one hand and a sack with something wiggling inside it in the other. Ron kept looking from one thing to the other without settling on just one.

Harry shrugged. "Uh…the tunnel is pretty narrow." Then he remembered and added, "Sir."

"If I can manage trees and being hexed at the same time, this shouldn't be much trouble." Then the older man gave them about half a death-glare, and Harry fell silent. Yeah, he would keep his wand to himself this time. Ron bit his lip. His friend probably remembered the Shack a few years ago as well.

Actually, going into the Chamber might be easier with a broom. Harry wished he'd thought of it himself. He'd probably like going through Gringotts that way as well even if the carts were loads of fun.

"Er, ah, professor? What's in the bag?" Ron clearly couldn't hold it in any longer.

"A rooster. After all, we don't know if the monster was male or female. There might be eggs. I have already told Hagrid he may not have any."

Ron looked like he'd swallowed a Puking Pastille backwards, and Harry felt nearly the same. Neither one of them had thought of that.

Snape gestured towards the sink. Harry hissed at the snake emblem and the door to the Chamber opened. He approached it carefully. It didn't smell as bad as he was afraid of. Just as well it's been a few years, though.

"I'll go down first," he said, and then jumped through and slid down. He didn't fit as well as he had a few years ago, but there was still enough room. It was almost fun now that he wasn't terrified about Ginny. I hope someone shifted the rocks and that they don't block the exit. I would have been trapped without Fawkes. Maybe Snape should have brought the Hat, too.

He landed and used his wand for Lumos. The rocks were really close to the end of the slide. He swallowed a bit and called up, "There's some rubble down here. I'll keep the light on."

"You do know you could have run into a blocked end down there, Mr. Potter? However, it's useful to know you have failed yet again to dash your brains out. Mr. Weasley, please wait here till I arrive safely below."

Harry knew the owner of that soul-shivering drawl was looking out for him, but he couldn't help but shake a bit anyway. I hate it when he's right. He stood back as far as he could to allow more space for the others.

He was gobsmacked to see how Snape slowly and carefully emerged from the twisting tunnel. That much control over any broom was hard. The professor slowly nodded at Harry and then stopped and stood up while the broom waited for him. That done, he took both broom and sack and stood over by Harry.

"There is just barely room for you, Mr. Weasley, try not to come down too fast," Snape said.

Ron came down and landed better than Harry had. All three turned to face a wall of fallen stones, though there were some spaces between them. Their voices mostly bounced off the barrier. Snape set his broom and the sack on the floor—the sack was still tied up—and blasted a few of the rocks away. He looked pale and was a bit sweaty, though. He turned to the boys and said, "I believe I will allow you gentlemen to start earning your keep."

Harry enjoyed destroying the rocks into powder and so did Ron. I bet the twins would have a lot of fun with this, too!

The smaller pieces of rock settled down and left a visible gap. The smell was a bit thicker now, but still not as awful as Harry had been worried about.

Then Snape directed them to send another Lumos up, as bright as they could manage, while he sent bright light from his wand as well. With his other hand, he untied the bag and let a dizzy-looking rooster loose. The bird's crow really did echo now, with more of the Chamber open to the air.

Once they were done with that, they lowered the amount of light and watched Snape put the rooster back into the bag.

Ron said, "I know this sound stupid, but could this rock be used to make repairs somewhere else around here? Dad used to mash up rubble to make a road to run the auto from the shop up to the house before he put in the flying gear."

"That's a very interesting idea, Mr. Weasley. I'll ask Mr. Filch if he can use this material elsewhere. The house elves would manage the transport, but he could find it helpful. Let's call it an evening. We have much more stone to remove, and I find myself unwilling to face so much dead basilisk tonight."

Harry reluctantly agreed. They'd made a good start, and they all had homework. As much as he wanted to get at things right away, he didn't really want to spend all night at it.

Snape looked at them with some amusement on his face. Harry realized why. How were they going to get back up again with no Hat? The tunnel didn't look like as much fun to crawl up as it was to come down.

The professor clearly enjoyed letting them stew a few moments as dismay showed on their faces. "Gentlemen, as much as I hate doing this, I will ride up and toss this broomstick down and each of you ride up on it."

"Yes, sir," Harry and Ron said in unison.

Snape and his bag of confused rooster went up the tunnel. Harry did itch with curiosity to find out how good the broom was—it looked different than the one the professor had used in the mock duel. I hope it doesn't bite me!

Suddenly he heard the clatter as the stick rattled down the stony passage. "Mr. Weasley, next, please."

Ron picked it up gingerly. "Harry," his friend hissed, "this is a Blood Broom!" Then he bowed as he held it and said, "I know I am only borrowing this for now. I promise to give it back as soon as I'm done. Your master said it was all right, honest!" Then he mounted it like it was going to bite him in a very personal place and slowly drifted upwards.

Harry gulped when the broom came back down for him. Maybe it was like Buckbeak, so he bowed to it just like Ron did. Besides, nobody was here to make fun of anything he said. "I promise not to do anything stupid, sir. And I'll give you back as soon as I can."

Like Snape this year, touching the broom now felt safer, but still could be dangerous. He mounted and thought, I want this broom! Or one just like it, he amended, just in case his thoughts were heard somehow. He already had one of the finest ones, but this…this was a person. He knew he would ask Ron more about it as soon as he could.

As he entered the sloping tunnel, he realized that he never had done this kind of flying, ever. "Broom," he said softly, "if you know how to do this, I won't stop you." He sighed in relief as he was carried upwards and only had to be careful to duck his head.

He was on top not long afterwards. Harry reluctantly gave the broom back to Snape. The professor was grimacing but looked happier once it was back in his hands. "We shall meet again about a week from now. I'll talk to Mr. Filch about any use for the rubble. Five points to you, Mr. Weasley."

Ron's mouth gaped open and was speechless all the way up to the dorm. Harry didn't blame him. Once they were there and in a corner of the Common room where the other conversations made theirs private, his friend said, "I won't tell anyone, not even Hermione. They'd never believe me."

Harry nodded. Then he asked, "What's up with that broom? How did you know how to treat it?"

"There are less than a hundred Blood brooms left out of maybe five hundred ever made. You could tell because it's a Black Shadow. There are some other brands like the Black Angus, but the Shadow is the best in the world. Nobody knows how to duplicate them now. Most of them have been lost or broken since a couple of centuries ago. With most of them, they won't let anyone but the owner even touch it. The greasy git did us a huge favor tonight letting us actually ride it."

Harry swallowed. "I pretended it was Buckbeak and bowed to it. I really want one!"

"So do I, mate, so do I." Ron offered a wry smile and set out his chess board, which offered them even more privacy. "It's said they'll come when they're called. It's an automatic disqualification for ten games if you try to bring one out for Quidditch, though."

"I don't care," Harry said. Just the few moments on that broom that he'd had made him long for more. Even he knew that it would be too much trouble to try for Snape's, though. The professor might forgive him, but he was pretty sure the broom itself wouldn't.

"They mainly get left to people. I haven't heard of any that were up for sale since Dad was young." Then Ron's face clouded up. "Maybe if I work hard enough for Snape, he'll let me touch it again."

"Too bad nobody except us knows he has one," Harry said. "All the Quidditch players here would revise like mad and clean the lab for him if they did." Maybe he only got it this year? That would explain a lot. He didn't ride that broom my first year when he was a referee. Oliver Wood would have forfeited the game right then and there just to bow before it if Ron's right about it.

Well, maybe Snape just had to keep it hidden. Then he thought of something before he offered himself up on the altar of Ron's chess playing. I haven't looked through my vault that hard except to pick up some money. Maybe I need to spend more time there and see if my real dad left anything like that. There's stuff on shelves I should check out, and some trunks and chests. Who knows what's in them? And there could be other stuff in the Chamber, too.

He moved a pawn forward, knowing the outcome was predetermined. But Hermione would descend on them with homework soon enough.

Snape missed the appointment to visit the Chamber that next week. He had a very unpleasant one with the Dark Lord instead. Fortunately, his broom waited for him at the gates of Hogwarts and helped him back inside the castle. He-Who-Shat-on-Everyone this evening had been quite unhappy, and when he was unhappy, so was everyone else. Even Bella had felt his wrath for suggesting some Mudblood slicing and dicing to relieve the boredom, while he himself had not made the progress he'd wanted on the longer-lasting Polyjuice. But both had just been excuses.

Macnair had whispered something rude about the Dark Lord and that time of the month and paid for it with a full quarter-hour of screaming. Snape had joined him not long after, though not for quite as long, just for breathing. At least none of the apprentices were at the meeting, except for the slightly elder Mr. Weasley. Even he had received a short dose of corrections along with Wormtail. A bad night for everyone, really.

At least it had been Crucio and not anything more imaginative. It boded ill to start the new week like this. Soon the broom had taken him to the quick entrance to Slytherin, and he'd been able to hang on inside until he'd reached his own quarters. A few of his students had popped out and gaped with amazement but had popped right back in as soon as he'd summoned enough strength to glare at them properly.

The younger Mr. Weasley stood by the door to his quarters. "Sir, are you all right?"

"No." Snape then dropped to the ground. He heard the sound of the door opening and then…nothing.

Ron didn't know what to do. The Potions master slumped on the floor with the broom underneath him. He vaguely remembered that being levitated could go wrong. "Winky?" he said.

The tiny elf stood in the doorway and said. "Oh, master, not again!"

"He rode his broom in, but he sank down on top of it," Ron said. He didn't know what to do. He lingered just outside.

Winky magically lifted the professor into the parlor and onto the couch, which turned into a bed as Snape was laid down on it. "Mistress Nurse needs to come down."

Ron thought quickly. "I bet you can go find her faster than I can," he said. "Is there anything that you can do before you go?"

"Of course, young master." She let light come from her hands. "He feels bad, but Mistress Nurse knows right potions. He will just sleep till then." Then she disappeared with a small 'pop'.

He looked at the unconscious man and hoped he wasn't bleeding to death. Now he understood how terrified Harry must have been earlier in the year with Madam Pomfrey knocked out, too. Maybe I need to take over some of Malfoy's detentions and learn what to do instead of just standing here hoping for the best. He gulped. Should I close the door? Or wait till Winky is back?

Then he heard some noise and turned with his wand out, just in case the wrong visitors showed up. He sighed in relief to see the mediwitch.

She smiled at him warmly. "I'll show you the shortcut between here and the infirmary in case Winky can't help," she said. "And no, I am not angry you faced me with your wand out. You can put it away now." They both entered the room

"Er, of course," he said and stuffed his wand back in his pocket. Whenever Harry was hurt or sick, he felt so helpless. It was worse when it was Hermione. Seeing her go down during the Ministry battle still bothered him. Maybe stupid Malfoy isn't that dumb after all. I should learn some of this healing crap, too.

Snape was still propped up on the couch-bed and Winky hovered over him. The professor was pale and unconscious, the way he'd been in the Shack a few years ago. His muscles were twitching the way Harry's had when he'd been hit by a Crucio right at the end of the Tournament.

"Oh, dear," the mediwitch said as she gazed down on Snape. "Winky, go to the infirmary and fetch two of the purple potions in the cupboard next to my desk. He'll have only the regular sedative tonight and none of that other Swiss muck. He can catch up tomorrow or the next day with those. I'll come here early tomorrow morning and try to convince him not to teach. Mr. Weasley, if you could just sit with him here for a bit? Call Winky to find me if he thrashes about like this—" She demonstrated. "Or if he calls for me, though he really shouldn't wake."

Ron gulped at such responsibility. "Er…would it be all right if I did some homework? He has me do lines now. One line with the right hand, and then the next with the left. He wants me to find out which hand I like better. I still can't tell, but if I do a whole essay like that, I might."

The older woman smiled. "If he wakes up and sees you at work, no doubt he'll be pleased."

"Or he'll think he's hallucinating," he said.

"Well, that too," she added.

The tiny elf returned with two small bottles. Madam Pomfrey carefully poured them down Snape's throat and made sure he swallowed without choking. She had Ron take the second pillow out, so he was lying flatter after that was done. "I am more careful about using magic on him if I don't have to," she said.

Ron nodded. "Harry told me about that." It felt strange to handle another person, especially the professor.

"Yes, you are right to be careful as well. So far nothing happens when a house-elf like Winky uses magic, but then some people don't remember that house elves exist." She grimaced. "I will be by in a couple of hours just to check on him, and then in the morning. But Winky," she said, turning to the tiny elf, "I know this is the time when you normally check on the younger Slytherins. I want you to do that now, and then to rest so you can watch your master while I am away. His new assistant can give you that time while he's here."

Winky went off, though she looked quite grumpy about it.

Soon Madam Pomfrey was gone, and it was just him and Professor Snape. The older man's face looked more relaxed, and he wasn't trembling as much.

Ron pulled out his homework. Just a couple of years ago we would have pooled all our money just to have a chance at him with nobody else around. I could do anything here and not even Winky would know for sure. Now it feels shameful even to think about it. I was like Sirius Black, who didn't care about breaking my leg and hit Snape's head pretending it was an accident. Sorry, Harry, I'm glad I don't have to pretend I like him any more. Even with a new owl it wasn't any fun.

It's weird how things have changed. Snape isn't as scary as he was. Winky helps with that, but he didn't even blow up when Longbottom ruined a class. Even Malfoy has been decent at the captain's meeting. He could be polite before, but it was nasty polite, not real like it's been so far this year. I guess it's the Puffs' turn to act up, but nobody expected it, not even Madam Hooch.

The really strange part is that Filch is different, especially after Christmas break. I swear I saw his dust broom move by itself a couple of times. Harry said he was a Squib, but I kind of wonder about that now.

Now that he was thinking about brooms, he remembered the one Snape rode into the room on. He was surprised Winky hadn't already put it away. He open the door again, walked over to it and touched it. It buzzed like a wasp's nest. He bowed to it and said, "Your master is out for the night. I am only going to put you back into the rack. You deserve better than to lie on the floor all night."

It stopped vibrating. Ron carefully set it up into the nook by the door. "There you go, all right now," he told it.

Then he went back to his books and groaned to himself. No excuse to avoid work now. And no one to ask for help. Hermione was less happy about it these days, and the professor couldn't answer questions, which he did if they weren't too stupid. Ron sighed and started the essay on Transfiguration.

He was about halfway through the one for Charms when Winky came back. "He's just sleeping," he told her. In fact, Snape was actually snoring—not as loudly as Ron thought he might with that nose, but still sawing the air the way…the way Dad used to. He swallowed hard at that thought.

He packed up and left. He saw Malfoy hanging around the hallway, looking anxious. "He's sleeping now and not throwing up or anything. I know, it's weird that I'm the one to tell you and not Winky or Madam Pomfrey. This wasn't my idea, honest!"

The blond Slytherin looked genuinely concerned. Malfoy sighed and said, "Oh well, it's not too bad. Our beloved Headmaster could have made Longbottom part of this experiment in House unity."

Ron shrugged. "One of yours is with Flitwick, right?"

"Zabini already practically lives up there because of a girl, and he is good at Charms. He'll probably end up as a practice dummy for new ones."

"I'd almost rather do that than homework," Ron said. "I practice printing with both my right and left hands to find out which one works the best. Snape can read my stuff now, but I don't know if that's an improvement."

"Lucky you," Draco said. "Just wait till the other lessons. I'm told you will have the fun of deportment and despair practice with some of us soon."

"Keepers have to work harder to stay limber since we're in the same spot for most of the game," Ron said. "I'll need it to be fit when Quidditch starts up again in spring."

"But Keepers can stay in it for longer than most of the other positions," Draco said as he stood a little closer, clearly happy to discuss something interesting. "I'm too tall to be a Seeker and we're scouting the second years. Fitzwilliam for the Harpies is in her fifties, though, and still at the top of her game."

Maybe with extra exercise, that leg of mine might not bother me so much in winter. The next time I see Madam Pomfrey, I'll have her look at it. I should be doing the same detentions Malfoy is—if Snape had been worse, even Winky bringing the mediwitch could have been too late. "That's a good point. Anyway, I should do some of my detentions like yours if I'm going to be on watch here. But I'd better head back before curfew. I can't wait till Games Night! I'm definitely bringing my chess set."

Malfoy actually cracked a smile. "I'll be there."

Ron left for Gryffindor Tower. Nice to talk without feeling I've stepped into it. He's been like that at the captains' meetings too. Didn't know Malfoys could be nice without twisting the knife somehow. Wish I knew why I was told to watch Snape on nights like this, and I bet the Drake does, too. Yeah, I should really talk to the old trout upstairs. We all cheered when we knocked the greasy git out a few years ago, but it's different now. I know what a dead person really looks like now…He swallowed hard when he remembered his dad being laid out in the parlor. Even Hermione had been alive even when she'd been Petrified. Death was real and it wasn't something to throw a party over.

Unless it was Moldyshorts, of course, but only if he would just stay dead. Ron chatted with the Fat Lady, went inside, and was happy he'd done some of his work. Hermione looked happy and pecked him on the cheek. That warmed him up a lot!

A week later, Hermione brought a written list of questions with her on the night she was to help with the last phase of the Wolfsbane Potion. Her batch was set up as if she'd done all the previous steps by herself—and she had, really, just with guidance in class like the others. Professor Snape's cauldron was double the size of hers. She also brought a flask of tea and a large sandwich, though she planned to be cautious about how much she drank. Perhaps there was a reason that men often did the potions with the longest times when a brewer must be present, she thought. There was a potion to help slow that down, though Hermione was certain Madam Pomfrey would forbid her from using it. She would try to refrain from coloring outside the lines tonight.

She'd also brought a Dicta-Quill and a sheaf of paper to take down notes. She was pleased that her mentor had brought a Speaking Stone with nine hours' capacity for questions, answers and lectures. "Professor, could you have the Stone speak out loud to the quill and let them go at it while you did something else? Ron's mother often has spells in the Burrow which work without her having to watch them."

The Potions master looked intrigued. "I had not thought of that. I've heard of machines in the Muggle world which carry on without personal attendance. It's certainly worth a trial."

She then brought out some cards.

"Are those for your personal notes? A transcript of our talk tonight might be more helpful," he said.

"No, sir. I plan to label each card with the stage and then turn it the color the potion ought to be at that stage," she said. She'd been inspired by Neville's Skilboard. "I'm sure someone who is color-blind would have to use other clues like smell, though."

"I like that idea," Snape said, as if each word cost him a Galleon. "I suspect Mr. Longbottom would appreciate seeing those cards, too. If his and your system can be applied to longer, more complicated potions I will definitely write an article on it, giving you both credit."

Hermione felt her cheeks grow warm. Her parents had had strong words about who was allowed to have credit on various papers in academia. Very likely this world had more than one Lockhart in it, with or without memory spells. "Thank you, sir." She almost laughed at the probable look on Neville's face if he was ever associated with an article authored by his nemesis.

As the hours wore on, she was in heaven asking even more questions than she'd thought of before. She did try to let the professor finish a paragraph before charging in again, but feared she didn't always succeed.

"Is there no system like the periodic table?" she complained.

"I fear there are too many of them," he said. "I've tried out several and found them all inadequate. Logic is a stranger to the magical world. That's why I thought the puzzle I left would stump anyone, never mind children."

"We have that kind in magazines in the Muggle world," Hermione said. "But how did Quirrell get past it?"

"All the teachers received a key, though the chess game was based on McGonagall's style of play. We were all impressed by young Mr. Weasley winning it."

"Ron has been looking forward to Games Night," she said. "He's been busy being your assistant and with extra lessons. Harry is somewhat more resigned to Remedial Potions. And I here I am, to collect the entire set." Yes, humor about herself was the key.

Snape shrugged. "He is better at it. Oh, please realize the transcript of our session will be lightly edited. I'm supposed to lure you into the Dark with forbidden knowledge, with a side of seduction if that doesn't work. If you wish to spread some juicy rumors, I can help you with composing a few."

Hermione blinked. She hadn't thought of that. Her participation in this was supposed to be a detention, though she would be cautious around some of the Ravenclaws till it was finally their turn. She feared that the skip in her step had given her away when she'd attempted to whine about it around them.

The night proceeded and she resorted to her flask of tea. Fortunately, there was one break where they could both leave their respective potions to sit for just under a half hour. She fled to the loo. She almost sighed out loud in relief. Then she ate her sandwich, knowing that lab protocol forbade eating there. I hope Winky brings the professor something, he's still dreadfully thin. She rolled her eyes with annoyance. Yes, her crush on him was still there.

They re-entered the lab just as their batches turned an almost identical yellow color. The fumes made her dizzy. "Would it be all right if I put up a Bubblehead charm just now? For one thing, even though I tied back my hair as much as I can, it sometimes has ideas of its own." That was quite true, as her curls occasionally moved for no reason that she could see.

Snape nodded and did the same. His voice had a funny echo-y quality with both their heads surrounded when he said, "Few people are as careful about hairs as they should be."

She bit her lip. And then, just because, she meowed. She had been able to understand Crookshanks better since her own near transformation. Her mistake had been understandable, but sloppy and she tried diligently not to repeat it.

Becoming an Animagus sounded interesting, but Madam Pomfrey had said when asked, "Not this year." So many things she had to wait for because of that ridiculous Ministry raid. From what Harry had said about the Prophecy, she couldn't see why it would change anything for Moldymort to know it. Another question crossed her mind. Would Snakeface wait till end of year or attack during it just as a change of pace? When do we ever go on the attack?

She must have said it out loud since Professor Snape replied, "Pray direct your questions to the Headmaster. We merely await his orders."

She sniffed. "Perhaps it's time we thought of plans for ourselves." Then she realized what she'd said. "Though not like the kind of like the end of last year. I nearly died-thank you for all those potions to make sure I didn't-and Harry lost his godfather. I learned to dodge Mr. Black's roving hands well enough, but there was no point in telling my friend about them. Just like Ron's leg bothers him but he doesn't say anything either. If and when there is a memorial service, I think I'll come down with an attack of essays or ask Madame Pomfrey to write me an excuse. I think poor Ron is stuck, though." It felt like heresy to speak ill of the dead, and of an Order member too, but she thought she would find sympathetic ears here.

Snape said nothing but lifted one eyebrow. It's just a crush. I will get over it the same way I got over Lockhart. She glanced over at the Potions Master. You would think seeing hair like his would cure me. But then, the fumes in here act like Sleek-Easy on mine. I should be the last to worry about someone else's hair.

At last, they were finished. Her teacher held the edge of his larger cauldron for balance. Winky led the potions master away. It wasn't like him to leave anything unfinished. The empty bottles waited on a nearby table. She was exhausted herself, so she found a funnel, braced each bottle in a rack and filled them that way. The house elf popped back in and showed her how to cap the bottles without magic.

"Do I take all these to Professor Lupin?" She hoped Winky knew the answer. How could Professor Snape brew all night and then teach all day? I hope Remus does something nice for him, she thought, but she had observed that he was better with words than deeds. She remembered how he had persuaded them that he was the poor innocent victim, and that Snape, who had saved their lives, was actually the bad guy. Harry had also told her and Ron that Remus had helped him feel better about his father but hadn't told them why it was necessary in the first place.

Winky replied, "Master Portions Master lying down, never has me take bottles. Says magic hurts them. But Winky can take you to dorm when you are done."

Hermione thought that was a brilliant idea until she tried to lift the basket full of full bottles. Then she had an idea.

She opened the door from the lab to the hallway that led to the Slytherin Common Room and called out, "I am a prefect. I am offering points to help me move these bottles to the Infirmary. We can't use any magic." Madam Pomfrey could give Professor Lupin his Wolfsbane on her own.

Three first year students showed up who looked eager. She told them what she needed, and reminded them again not to use magic. Hermione found some more baskets and split up the load, so she carried most of it. It was a long way up to the hospital wing, but all four of them eventually made it. She gave each of her helpers ten points and thanked them sincerely. They seemed surprised to receive a compliment from a Gryffindor, but they'd showed up when she needed them. The mediwitch was not in, so Hermione left her a note which told her no magic had been used to move the bottles. She called for Winky, and let the elf take her helpers back down to the dungeons first. Then Winky finally took her to her dorm.

She rather hoped that Professor Snape would stay in bed all day because she certainly thought she was going to. She staggered in just as her roommates were getting up. She waved at them as she took a quick shower, changed into nightclothes and fell into bed. Her last thought was, the Headmaster will need to hire three people to replace Professor Snape once he's finally gone.

Snape was surprised to find it was afternoon when he woke up. He normally had enough strength to teach after preparing the wolfsbane and wondered if his classes had been taken over or merely canceled for the day. He checked the lab. The cauldrons were clean, and the bottles were gone. Winky assured him that his assistant had not used any magic to fill the bottles and had paid out in points for assistance to take the bottles up to the Infirmary. There was hope for the young woman yet.

She did have a good idea about letting the Speaking Stone and the Dict-a-Quill work with each other. I can edit the transcript far easier than anything on the stone itself. Erasing material on the stone would leave obvious gaps. Once the transcript was fit for other eyes, he could wipe out the entire conversation. Before that, he would practice the hissing that Potter did on their way down to the Chamber until he could open the door in his own voice.

Winky was happy to bring him a very late breakfast. He decided he would play hooky for just a little while longer and enjoy the quiet meal without the noise and clamor of the hall. He would have another meeting for his Slytherins soon. Perhaps another room inspection would reassure them that he was still looking out for them and not just for other students. It would not do to ignore his own House. He decided to savor a little quiet time first, though. It would be wrong to fake a potions crisis, since it was clear from his fatigue that he might be having one anyway. He remembered what Lowenstein had told him in Switzerland about the potion he'd brewed for Filch. Besides, Poppy would likely write him a note to excuse him any time he asked. It felt so good to enjoy his meal for a change!

Draco Malfoy knew his professor had been forced by the Headmaster into watching over the Trio one way or another. It was good practice for him and the other prefects to watch over the rest of the Snakes anyway. He had heard about Miss Granger blatantly abusing her own power to help her with the Wolfsbane bottles from her temporary assistants who had been thrilled to earn points that way. Perhaps it was just as well she hadn't been sorted into the same house he had. She would be running it by now.

He stopped for a moment as a wave of sadness passed through him. His godfather would likely not be here next year. The last meeting had not gone well for anybody, or so he'd heard. It was well he hadn't been summoned, since he would have to make up to his aunt and possibly in the most embarrassing way. Pansy hates me anyway. Oh, and I'd better teach the Weasel some healing spells. Winky said he was worried about Snape and not doing a little dance of joy. At least he had the sense to send for Madam Pomfrey. I'll have to tell him how to look out for the curse that hurts anyone who doesn't have the Mark. That reminds me, I need to practice those spells, too. Fortunately, there are always a few idiots who try out curses for fun and profit and don't want to admit it to the mediwitch. It's a good thing the old woman is teaching me how to do triage so I know when to call for her myself.

He found an empty corner and allowed himself to shiver with fear. It wasn't like the Professor to stay in a day during school time, not even after brewing the Wolfsbane. Snape never showed weakness unless he couldn't avoid it. He's worse than he was before, even with the potions he has to be on. Is the Dark Lord siphoning magic from him? Maybe the full members were drained to allow his resurrection. No wonder there are so many apprentices. When will it be my turn? There's a rumor that even when we're dead He can use us. Maybe Father is safer in Azkaban after all.

Suddenly he was very happy his mother had never taken the Mark. And wished he hadn't. He stood up straight. He didn't know who the Headmaster was going to put in as Head of their House when Snape was gone, but it would be up to the apprentices and other Slytherin prefects like Bulstrode to manage things when it happened.

Hermione felt like going back up on her broom just for fun a few days after she'd helped with the Wolfsbane. She found an empty courtyard—not the first she'd found here, which made her wonder just how many students used to go here—and decided not to wear headphones for a change. She almost wished a couple of purebloods could hear the dreaded Muggle music and make them wonder what they were missing.

It felt marvelous to sway with the broom and let herself whirl about to Cyndi Lauper's "Girls Just Want to Have Fun". The broom seemed to enjoy it, too, and threw in a few moves on its own, or so it seemed. She let her eyes close a bit, though that was dangerous here, but couldn't help it. For once she would let herself relax (though she still had her wand in a wrist-holster courtesy of the real Moody, who had been surprisingly generous with one after she'd asked him which brand was the best). She slowly let her eyes open and spun around, and didn't see anybody. Not that she trusted that, knowing there was more than one invisibility cloak around.

It was enough to enjoy the weak winter sun for the few hours she would see it today.

Pansy Parkinson was happy she'd moved quickly enough to avoid detection. She rather liked the Mudblood's music. And to see the Great Brain looking normal? Call the Quibbler, she thought to herself. It was certainly something different than what passed for music on the Wireless or with the few groups that were popular. Now I'm in Muggle Studies, I can ask Trelawney about their music. If Granger can get one of her machines to work here, I bet we can, too. At least the Fruit Bat will admit when she doesn't know something and will look it up, instead of just pretending. I wonder if we could get one of our wireless machines to pick up Muggle radio stations, too. And if I could get mine at home to do it, too. If I keep the sound down Mum won't know the difference. If I leave my books and papers out, she'll think I'm actually studying. Well, I will be, just not what she thinks.

She asked about a wireless or other machine in class. Trelawney looked intrigued. "Some Muggle devices do work here. Some need charms, though, and you might ask your classmate Zabini about that, since he's assisting Professor Flitwick for the winter."

Pansy nodded. Of course, he spends most of his time there mooning over Edgecombe, but I suppose he'd find out a few things for me. They resumed their look at Muggle films and fashion.

That started her thinking again. We already have moving pictures. Funny they should be ahead of us that way. Maybe we could talk the portraits into performing in plays. I heard the staff used to have pantomimes, but I bet the Headmaster would enjoy dressing up more than he should. No doubt the Professor could do things with a vulture hat to stop a few hearts, especially with the wolf here to see the fruits of his labors. A good thing the Boggart lesson went to hell before he got around to us. Half of us thought Lupin set things up to make fun of our Head of House, and when the vulture hat cracker showed up, even some of the Gryffs agreed. She knew she could see both her parents dead for real and not just as an amusing tableau for the masses. Malfoy's mother had to take over the family with his father in Azkaban. Maybe I should learn more than just etiquette and fashion, she thought soberly. Both of mine could end up dead or Dementor-bait.

She quickly took some notes. This Madonna sounds like my Aunt Shelandy, never mind Blaise's mother! I wonder what their version of Witch Weekly looks like? Then Trelawney talked about Muggle music which this Madonna was famous for and glanced at her when discussing their wireless.

That reminded Pansy of what she'd seen and heard of Granger on her broom. The bookworm had looked like an entirely different person. Someone had clearly removed the wand from her butt. I remember Grandmother once said that Binns and his wife had won a gold medal in broom dancing in what, 1905, something like that? I suppose I might ask him about it in class sometime just to find out if he can say something besides a lecture. It's been years since anyone bothered asking a question in that class! I should write a letter to Nana about it first to make sure I heard her right. If we could use music that wasn't a hundred years old, it might be fun to start a club or something.

Once her classes were over, she rushed through her homework. She didn't want to miss the first Games Night!

Ron sat by his chessboard and pieces, waiting for new victims. He'd celebrated International Pawn Slaughter Day with a few people already. He grinned to himself. There was nothing like forming slanted rows with them with only a few escape holes for his more powerful pieces, whacking the enemy's pawns, and then attacking through the gaps left. Some either became too cautious or not cautious enough. A few copied his maneuvers, but if he drew white, he was usually able to trigger a cascade of attacks before they could. If he drew black, he had to look stupid for a few moves first.

Then he faced Pansy Parkinson and was confused. She either didn't see his traps or saw them all too well. Normally he was able to figure out what the other player was up to, but he was at a loss this time. He was surprised to see her play chess at all, and definitely not this well. She could have seen what he did to others and decided to mess him up by being different. It certainly worked for her so far.

Then she moved her bishop forward into what looked like a vulnerable position. He nearly fell for the easy kill till he saw her knight could jump into a fork threatening his queen unless he moved his pawn out of its place. And if he did that—oh, crap. His rook would be taken then. He didn't play many girls. The one Ravenclaw he'd roasted this evening had started with a standard opening which he had a standard strategy for. He'd paid much less attention to the blonde Slytherin than he should have and was paying for it now. I would have been much more on my guard if I'd been playing Malfoy.

He moved his pawn one square forward anyway to threaten the bishop. Now what was he going to do?

The game ended in an acrimonious draw. They shook hands, somewhat grudgingly, and Ron prepared himself for his next opponent.

Harry came up to him. "How badly did you beat her?"

"We tied," Ron said curtly. He was still fuming.

"Huh. I heard from Dean that she signed up for Muggle studies just after Christmas. I wonder what she's up to?"

"Good question," he said. "She and Malfoy aren't a couple any more. Maybe she did it just to tick him off. I shouldn't underestimate anybody, isn't that what we're taught in DADA?"

"Constant vigilance!" Harry said with a laugh.

After another game where he'd won handily, he took a break and approached Parkinson. "What kind of game were you playing?" he asked.

"Trying not to die." Her pug-nosed face looked grim. She walked off with her shoulders firmly set.

He knew that kind of game. A lot of the kids here were playing it themselves. The Great Hall area was beginning to empty. Well, mate, that essay won't write itself and 'Mione won't even give me hints these days. But once he was in the Common room, he told her what had happened.

His friend nodded as they sat near the fire. "We started that one our first year," she said. "I was terrified when you fell from your horse." Then she grimaced. "It hurts to think of them as people, doesn't it."

Ron swallowed and remembered Snape, helpless on the ground. "Yeah," he said. "It sure does."