The Refiner's Fire

Abraxan

Story Summary:
Complete. Prequel to "The Time of Destiny." In the summer before his sixth year at Hogwarts, Harry Potter learns to come to terms with the death of Sirius. As he heals and grows emotionally, he learns how to enjoy life again. But there's a war on, and Voldemort's primary objective is to kill Harry Potter, by any means necessary. As a result, Harry and his friends have a very adventurous sixth year at Hogwarts. Canon-based through OotP with some OC.

Chapter 21

Chapter Summary:
Fangirls, the Animagus transformation, a visit to Hogsmeade and a scary situation in the middle of the night.
Posted:
02/17/2005
Hits:
5,470
Author's Note:
Many thanks to my brilliant Brit-picker, Kelpie, and to Blakevich, Starfox, Pilar and Shawn for beta-reading!


Chapter 21 - Fans and Foes

The Daily Prophet, The Quibbler, Witch Weekly, Teen Witch Weekly and other periodicals had jumped all over the story of Harry fighting off the Dementors in Hogsmeade. Since he'd spent the holidays with the Weasleys, he was unaware of how much press coverage that incident had generated. Once again, the magazines in particular had taken that one incident, which was impressive enough by itself, and embroidered on it floridly, going on and on about the "dashing hero of Hogsmeade," his "brilliant green eyes," his "charmingly tousled black hair," the "adorable little dimple" in his chin, his "gorgeous cheekbones," his "massive, masculine shoulders," and his "chivalrous attention to the victims." They even re-ran the hidden camera photos taken of him during the summer, with Casey cropped out of the pictures. The furore these articles created hit Harry during his first morning of classes. The group of fans was following him again, calling out to him, touching him when and where they could. Some of the D.A. members were among the group. He rounded on them angrily.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" he snarled, his face stony, his eyes filled with frustration and suppressed rage. He glared at the D.A. members in particular. "If you want to stay in D.A., you'll stop doing this right now, and you'll get the rest of these girls to stop following me."

"Ooooo, look how his eyes flash!" "Hasn't he developed lovely big muscles this term?" "D'you suppose he and that Weasley girl have broken up yet?" "Harry, if I faint, will you catch me?" "Isn't he dreamy?" The annoying comments floated to him even as he distanced himself from the group. He was growling by the time he got to class.


"What's wrong?" Hermione asked as he sat down next to her and Ron in Transfiguration.


"I have 'fans' following me around again," Harry snarled. "Some are D.A. members. I threatened to throw them out if they keep following me, and told them they'd better stop those other girls from following me, as well."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Hermione said sympathetically. "Articles about the Dementor attack in Hogsmeade came out during the holidays. They were very. . .um. . .flattering toward you. That's probably what caused this latest fan problem. I didn't want to mention the articles to you while you were at the Weasleys."

"Yeah, and Mum told us not to say a word," Ron added. "She was so angry, she cancelled all her subscriptions and burned the paper and magazines before you and Remus arrived."

"I wish they'd leave me alone," Harry sighed, running his fingers roughly through his already-messy hair. He sighed again as he took out his book, parchment, quill and wand to get ready for class.

"They're just excited because you've been written up in the magazines, Harry," Hermione assured him. "They'll move on to something else soon."

"I hope you're right," he grumbled, "but I won't hold my breath waiting for it to happen."

Professor McGonagall called the class to order. "Today we're going to see how you're doing on your Animagus transformations. Did you all practice over the holidays?" She waited while the class responded, nearly every one with a "Yes, Professor." The only one who didn't answer at all was Harry, who no longer needed to 'practice' his transformations. "Good. Who wants to show me what you can do? Anyone?"

After a few moments of stillness in the room in which nobody responded, Hermione raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"I don't usually have a lot of trouble with these spells, but I can't manage more than a paw no matter how hard I try," she said in frustration. "Is there anything else we can do to help with the transformation?"

"That's an excellent question. Unfortunately, the answer is no. You have to follow the procedure. The vast majority of wizards never learn this transformation at all. I want to give you as good a chance as possible, so we'll keep touching on it from time to time, and I do want you to keep practicing. Don't become frustrated and angry about it. Such emotions block your magic." She took a breath and glanced around the class brightly. "Now then. How many of you can do a paw?" A few hands went up, Hermione's and Harry's included. Ron hung his head. He still hadn't managed to even change the colour of the hair on his hand, much less make it a paw. "How many have managed to do more than a paw?" Only Harry raised his hand. "Mr. Potter. What have you managed to do?" She and Harry had discussed this before class. He was going to reveal one of his forms and tell the class about it.

"I've, erm, managed to turn into a cat," Harry said hesitantly.

"Have you really?" McGonagall said, feigning surprise, a small smile on her face. "Can you show us? Come up here where we can all see you."

Harry walked to the front of the class and turned to face them. He took a deep, calming breath and blew it out, willing himself to transform s-l-o-w-l-y, rather than instantaneously as he was actually capable of doing now. He looked at his left hand, a frown of concentration on his face as he forced the transformation to happen as gradually as possible, and it became a cat's paw. Slowly but surely, black fur grew up his arm, the other hand turned into a paw and black fur grew up that arm, and he dropped to all fours as fur covered his rapidly shrinking body. Within a few moments' time, a black cat with green eyes stood where Harry Potter had been standing. The class gasped as the transformation occurred.

Parvati's hand shot up.

"Yes, Miss Patil?"

"Is it easier for Harry to do this because his father was an Animagus?"

"Possibly. I expected it to be easier for him, partly because of his father's ability, and partly because of how rapidly he learned how to transform his hand into a paw. If you can grasp the concept and apply it even a little at first, the entire transformation will go easier for you in the long run."

"It's not fair, you know," Parvati grumbled.


"Yeah," Lavender agreed crossly.

"It's not our fault our parents aren't Animagi," Parvati continued.


"Miss Patil, Miss Brown, that is quite enough. You both know that wizards and witches all learn at different speeds. Harry just has a talent for this particular transformation. If you work hard at it, you may work it out, too. I can tell you this - James Potter's parents were not Animagi, nor were Sirius Black's. Yet both of them became Animagi, simply through hard work and determined study. You can do it too if you apply yourself as seriously as they did."

"But I am," complained Hermione. "I'm trying as hard as I know how, but I'm not getting anywhere."

"It took James and Sirius two years to learn how. Don't be impatient, Miss Granger." She smiled down at Harry, who sat quietly by her feet. "Now, let's have a look at Mr. Potter, shall we? Harry, may I pick you up so the class can see you better?"

The cat looked up at her then stood on its back legs, reaching up with its front legs, finally putting its front feet against the professor's robes. She lifted him gently and held him in her arms, then turned him around carefully so the class could see all sides of him.

"Now if you'll look at him, can anyone tell me what his distinguishing mark will be? You're required to register your distinguishing mark when you register as an Animagus."

Hermione and Ron kept their hands down. They knew too much about Harry's transfigurations, and were worried they'd let something slip if they spoke in class.


Neville raised his hand.

"Yes, Mr. Longbottom?"

"He has green eyes, like Harry's."

"That's right, he does. But eye colour is rarely a distinguishing mark. In some species, all the members of that species have eyes of one colour, such as horses who have either brown or blue eyes, or one brown and one blue in some cases. If you saw a green-eyed horse, you'd be shocked, wouldn't you? So when an Animagus transforms, his eye colour usually becomes that of the species he is changing into. In rare cases, the Animagus form will have something different about it than real beings of that species, but it is, as I said, rare. Cats often have green eyes, so that's probably why Harry has green eyes as a cat. Someone else?"

"He's long and muscular like Harry," Parvati offered, making Lavender giggle.

McGonagall stroked the suddenly tense cat. "There now, it's all right," she crooned soothingly, then remembered he was a student, not really a cat. She cleared her throat and answered Parvati's comment. "Yes, his physical form is similar to Harry's, although that is not always the case. Is there anything else you notice about this cat?"

Seamus raised his hand. "It looks like he has a little lighter hair over his right eye. Is that a marking of some kind?"

"Well spotted, Mr. Finnegan. Mr. Potter, as you're all aware, has a lightning bolt shaped scar just above his right eye. This marking is similar to that scar, and will be used when Harry is registered as an Animagus. As you can see, the marking is subtle, just a slightly lighter colour of hair. If it were a bold marking, such as white hair against the black of the cat, it would be obvious from a distance that this cat must be Harry Potter in Animagus form. Keeping your markings subtle like this is a very good idea, if you can manage it. Mr. Potter must have made a conscious decision to keep his marking subtle, and sorted out how to control it at some point in mastering this transformation." She walked around the class so everyone could see the marking on Harry's face. "Can anyone tell me why Mr. Potter might have chosen to be a cat?"

"Because it was what we were starting with," Neville offered. "He could make his hand a cat's paw, so I guess he just. . .kept going?"

"That may very well be true," she replied as she set the cat back on the floor, stroking its back gently as she did so. "Thank you, Mr. Potter. You may change back now."

Harry changed back as slowly as he could manage. Soon he was standing before the class, ears red at having been the subject of such close scrutiny.


"Mr. Potter, can you tell us why you chose to become a cat?"

"Neville had it right. Since I could do a paw, I thought it would be simplest to stick with a cat. And cats can go nearly anywhere and not be noticed. I thought that could be useful."


"Well done, Mr. Potter. Thirty points for achieving the transformation. And Mr. Longbottom - ten points each for your excellent questions and your understanding of Harry's reasoning. Do any of you have questions for Mr. Potter?" Several hands went up. "Yes, Mr. Thomas?"

"How long did it take you to do it?" Dean asked.

"Erm. . .a while. I didn't keep track," Harry said evasively. Several hands were still lifted.

"Yes, Miss Brown?"

"How does it feel to change size so much?" she asked.

"Excellent question, Miss Brown. Five points. Harry?"

"It. . .well, it's hard to explain," he began lamely. "Erm. . .well, at first it feels like I'm being stretched, which is odd because I'm getting smaller. It doesn't hurt, it just. . .pulls? I guess that's as good a term as any. The oddest thing is to be looking up from so close to the floor. But I can jump really well, just like a cat," he added with a grin. "That's brilliant, really, quite fun."


"Show us!" somebody called.


Harry glanced at his professor and saw an approving nod. He forced himself to change slowly again, then jumped from the floor beside Professor McGonagall to the top of Ron's desk, where he proceeded to paw the parchments there and circle around to lie down. The class was laughing by this time at his very cat-like behaviour. He leapt suddenly in the air and raced across Ron's desk, Hermione's desk, and jumped across the aisle to Seamus's desk, then leaped on top of Seamus's head, balancing there with his tail waving in the air. He lashed his tail about a bit, hitting Seamus in the face, then tickling his ear before leaping a huge distance to the window sill, where he curled up in a sunbeam and started purring. The class applauded, whistled and cheered for him, amidst much laughter.

"All right, Mr. Potter, you can change back," Professor McGonagall said with a smile. "Well done. You make a very convincing cat." Soon Harry himself sat grinning mischievously on the windowsill. Hands were raised all around the room. "More questions? Yes, Miss Brown?"

"When you're a cat, do you think like a cat or a person?" Lavender said.

"Excellent question. Five points," McGonagall said. "Harry?"

"It's a little of both, really. The cat wanted to play with the parchment and lie in the sunshine. I'm the one who wanted to tickle Seamus and mess up his hair," Harry said with a chuckle. "Both the cat and I enjoy the jumping around bits."

"Can the cat take you over? I mean, can it make you do something it wants but you don't want to?" Neville asked when he was called on.

"So far, I'm the one in charge," Harry said with a laugh and a shrug. "When the cat comes up with something it wants to do, it usually seems like a fun idea to me. We seem to get along well."

The class laughed.

"Can you tell us the process you used to do the transformation?" Hermione asked. She'd asked Harry this in private many times, and still wasn't satisfied with his answers.

Harry thought a while, trying to come up with something different to what he'd told her before. Finally, he hit on an idea. "Hermione, remember when you taught me how to transform a cat into a monkey when I was in hospital? I had a lot of trouble with that until you told me to start small, with only a paw. So when I started trying to do the Animagus transformation, I did as you and Professor McGonagall both said, and just started with a paw. When I had one paw done, I did a foot, then the other foot, then the legs, saving my wand hand as the last thing that I changed. When we did the kitten to monkey transformation, I had a lot of trouble with it, as I said, but I think it was because I liked the kitten a lot and didn't want to see it hurt. Maybe that's why the rest of you are having trouble. You're afraid you're going to hurt yourself, or get stuck somehow. I can honestly tell you, it does not hurt. It doesn't tickle either," he said ruefully, "but it's more a stretching feeling than anything else. If you can stop worrying about getting hurt, you may progress faster." As Harry was talking, Ron's face lit up with understanding. He grinned at Harry. Hermione still looked a little puzzled, but thoughtful as well. Harry glanced around the room. Everyone seemed to be thinking hard about what he'd said.

"Excellent question, Miss Granger. Five points. Harry, that answer was outstanding. Fifteen points." McGonagall smiled warmly at him. "Are there any more questions? Mr. Potter, thank you very much. You may sit down. Open your books. . .yes, Mr. Thomas?"

"When does Harry get registered?" Dean asked as Harry returned to his seat.

"I will be sending in the paperwork within the next week or so," she responded. "All right, today we begin the study of Apparition." That got a cheer from the class. "I want you to read the chapters on Apparition and write me two feet of parchment on how its done, how it can go wrong, and how Apparating incorrectly - also known as 'splinching yourself' - can be repaired. The essay is due in one week. For now, open your books and we'll start going through the steps of Apparition." Seeing Hermione's hand shoot up, the professor anticipated her question. "And yes, I know you cannot Apparate within the grounds of Hogwarts. Once you have the concepts firmly in place, we'll go to Hogsmeade and practice." Hermione dropped her hand, joining in the cheers of her classmates at this announcement.

* * * * *

On their next Hogsmeade visit, Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione stopped by The Ladies Shop where Ginny had bought the sparkly potion that made Ron ill. Madam Pomfrey and Professor Snape had needed to work together to sort out what the dangerous ingredient in the potion was. They had found a subtle poison in it that had to be taken internally to be activated. That property of the poison was why Harry's soft kisses on Ginny's neck didn't poison him. He never got the potion inside him, but Ron had, by licking Hermione's neck.

"Good morning, good morning," Madam Desiree said warmly as the four friends entered the shop. "I must apologize most sincerely for your potion being contaminated. I have changed suppliers and thrown out every potion I got from the old one. I cannot imagine how such an awful thing happened. Professors Dumbledore and Snape came to see me about it. Professor Snape and I both tested every potion I had, and none of them were contaminated. It must have been a terrible accident at the manufacturer's. How fortunate that you survived, young man. My sincere apologies!"

The girls smiled and accepted the woman's fluttery request for forgiveness easily. Ron stood grim-faced. He hadn't wanted to enter the shop at all. He never wanted Hermione or Ginny to use these products again, but nearly every girl third year and above at Hogwarts used them with no ill effects. Only Ginny's bottle of potion had caused any problem at all. Maybe it was just a fluke. But Ron was still nervous. He remembered vividly how it felt to be dying of poison, to not be able to breathe properly, and not have any way of fighting the effects of the poison himself.

Harry was uneasy too. Something about the woman rang false. Maybe it was just that her fluttery, overly-feminine mannerisms reminded him uncomfortably of Professor Trelawney and Rita Skeeter. He concentrated on his glasses to see if they'd reveal anything about the woman, but nothing looked unusual, whether he looked at her without his glasses while cleaning them on his shirt tail, or through them normally or through them with their powers invoked. She must be as she appeared, not someone hidden behind a 'glamour,' but still, something about her bothered him greatly.

The boys followed their girlfriends as they wandered through the shop escorted by Madam Desiree. She had offered to give them various products as an apology. "What's this one do?" Ginny asked, picking up a bottle of potion labelled "Hair Glo."

"Oh, your hair is so lovely, but this product, it makes your hair shine like a mirror, sparkle like jewels. It's a beautiful effect," Madam Desiree enthused.

"I have your Hair Shine product on my hair now," Ginny said. "How does this one differ?"

"It has a much stronger effect. You will see your hair glisten in ways it never has before. Here, let me put some on your hair. It won't take a moment." The woman got a hairbrush out of a case and started brushing Ginny's long red hair. "First we brush your hair well."

"I brush it a thousand strokes a night. My mum said that would make it shiny," Ginny offered.

"And it does, it does. Your hair shines beautifully. This potion will make it shine magically. You'll see." She brushed Ginny's hair a few more moments, then set the brush aside and reached for the potion. "For hair as long as yours, you put a drop of potion in your hands the size of a Sickle, just so," she said, showing Ginny the potion in her hand, "then rub your hands together and simply stroke it gently through your hair, thus." She rubbed the potion into Ginny's hair, and exactly as promised, it soon sparkled like jewels and reflected light like a mirror, just as Madam Desiree had promised. It was a remarkable effect.

"Oh, I like that! I'll take it," Ginny said with a grin.

"This one says it controls curls," Hermione said, holding out a bottle of potion whose label she'd been reading. "Does it work well?"

"Oh, certainly. Let me show you how it's done." She got out a new hairbrush and brushed Hermione's hair, then applied the potion. Hermione's normally unruly hair suddenly formed itself into beautiful loose spirals of curls.

"That's gorgeous! Thanks! I'll take the large flagon of that one, please," Hermione said. "Do you like it, Ron?" she said, turning to him and bouncing her curls with her hand, her eyes dancing in delight.

Ron gazed at her, his love for her in his eyes. "I don't care what your hair looks like," he said simply. "You're beautiful. And yes, your hair looks pretty like that."

Ginny looked at Harry expectantly. "Yes, Gin, I think your hair looks very pretty too," he said with a smile, knowing that's what she wanted to hear. He honestly preferred the look of her hair without the potion, but it seemed to make her happy to have something new to do with it, so he went along. He glanced up at the shopkeeper warily. "You're certain these have not been contaminated? They won't make the girls or us sick in any way?"

"I had them all tested before I put them out, after the scare we had with that other potion," she assured him. She looked at the girls. "Is there anything else I can get for you today?"

"No, thanks," they both said. The woman put the hairbrushes in a basket under the counter, then wrapped the potions for the girls and handed them their packages. "With my compliments, and again, my apologies for that awful incident."

"Thank you," the girls said, then took their boyfriends' hands and walked toward the door.

"Do come again!" she called as they left the shop. "Have a lovely day!"

As the four friends walked away, the two girls chattering happily about their purchases, Harry caught Ron's eye over their heads.

"That woman gives me the creeps," he murmured.

"Too right," Ron agreed wholeheartedly.

* * * * *

A few nights later, Harry was awakened from a sound sleep by the feeling of cold air hitting his body. The curtains around his bed must have come open, or he'd kicked off his covers. He opened his eyes a crack, just long enough to see that the curtains around the bed were closed. It was still nice and dark inside his bed's heavy curtains. He closed his eyes quickly, trying not to wake up too much, and felt around groggily for his covers. He nearly leaped out of bed when his hand encountered bare skin very close to him. Not just bare skin - soft, lovely girl skin. He was asleep, he had to be. This was a dream, a much nicer dream than he normally had. He kept his eyes closed, not wanting the dream to end. He let his hand linger, gently, slowly exploring this fascinating territory. His hand sent his brain some very interesting signals. This was a breast. A breast? In his bed? What a perfect dream! He smiled, enjoying the vivid dream his brain had so kindly sent him. He'd worry about having dirty thoughts about Ginny later. Right now, he was having as happy a dream as a sixteen year old boy could manage. He hoped his dream would last. He wondered where it would end and immediately squashed that thought so as not to jinx the dream. A soft giggle came from somewhere behind that breast and his hand drew back quickly, as if it were burned. His eyes flew open and every cell of his body was instantly, wholly, tremblingly awake.

"What's the matter," Ginny said with a seductive, throaty chuckle. "Too hot for you in here?" She rolled over on her side and snuggled up against him. Harry scrambled away as fast as he could, his hands in front of him, trying to keep a decent distance between them. She moved closer and his hands wound up on her narrow waist and the softness of her nearly flat tummy. He had to fight the urge to rub his hands all over that deliciously silky skin.

"Ginny, are you crazy? Your brother is in the next bed!" he whispered urgently.

"Yeah, that makes it all the more exciting, doesn't it?" she said, unbuttoning his pyjama top and running her hands over the muscles of his chest and shoulders, then trailing her hand down his torso and getting dangerously close to an area he didn't want her to reach right at the moment, especially with her volatile brother sleeping just a few feet away.

He backed out of bed, his curtains parting as he moved away. "What are you doing?" he whispered, gazing at her in horrified fascination. The moonlight spilled through the gap in his curtains and gave the planes of her beautiful body an opalescent glow as she rolled around languidly on his bed. He couldn't stop looking at her, his eyes wandering in hungry captivation from her smiling face with her teasing eyes, to her dainty feet with their delicately curled toes and tiny toenails, taking in every absolutely enchanting detail in between. He shook his head, willing himself to disciplined thought. This wasn't the way his Ginny acted, but it certainly looked like every square inch of the Ginny he'd imagined, from her glorious long red hair to - oh my, he'd never thought she'd have freckles there! And look there - an exquisite little heart-shaped birthmark in another spot that he was just dying to kiss. He swallowed hard, reminding himself to breathe, trying again to control himself, to assess the situation. Something just wasn't right. He had no idea what might make her behave this way. Well, he did have an idea, actually, but the Ginny he knew wouldn't do this with Ron and the other boys so close by. He shook his head, trying to regain command of his brain. "Erm. . .what's the password?"

"Huh?" she said in surprise, suddenly distracted from running her hands up and down her body, displaying herself in every way possible, driving him completely, deliciously mad.

"The," Harry gulped, his mouth dry as a desert, his voice cracking, while he tried desperately to look at her eyes, not to look at all the riches she was flaunting, "password."

"What password?" she replied, looking puzzled for a moment before stretching, arching her back, and running her hands over her breasts suggestively. "Come on, Harry, come to me. It's lonely in here."

"The password. Something only you and I know," he prompted. He still wasn't certain if he wanted this person to be an impostor or his Ginny. Either way, he knew he was in big trouble.

She gave up on her seductive actions for a moment as she pondered his question. "Oh. OK. Um. . .let's see. She has six brothers?"

Frantic fear coursed through his body as Harry leaped onto his bed and shoved the girl out onto the cold stone floor unceremoniously. She hit with a thud and lay there crying, holding her elbow as if it were hurt. "Ron! Ron, wake up!" he hollered, waking all his room mates. He was suddenly so angry, the world seemed tinged with red. "And you, whoever you are, cover up Ginny's body! Where is she? Have you hurt her?" His swift rage was replaced by terror, pouring through Harry's veins in uncontrollable torrents. What if Ginny was dead? No, he'd know if she was dead. He'd feel it. He was certain of that. Where was she? He picked up his dressing gown and tossed it over the trembling girl.

Ron woke up, rubbing his eyes sleepily, his hair standing on end as he peered through his curtains. "Whassup?" He looked blearily around and saw the crying girl on the floor, now mostly covered by Harry's dressing gown. Ron was immediately fully awake. "Ginny? What the bloody hell are you. . .?" He looked at his best friend in appalled disbelief. "Harry?"

"This is NOT Ginny!" Harry cried, angry again. He pointed his wand at the girl on the floor. "Incarcerous," he cried, and ropes flew out of the end of his wand and bound the girl tightly, the dressing gown slipping off of her breasts as the ropes pulled taut. Harry threw his blanket over his captive. No way was anyone going to see his Ginny's body without her permission. "This girl tried to seduce me. I don't know who she is, but she is not Ginny Weasley!"

"How do you know, Harry?" asked a bemused-looking Neville, tilting his head to study the girl's face. "She looks just like Ginny."

"She didn't know the password," Harry snapped, feeling an urgent need to leave, but knowing he had to explain what was going on so his friends didn't release this girl before they found out what she knew and why she had tried to seduce him.

"What password?" Neville replied, puzzled.

"The one that lets me know it really is Ginny I'm talking to. When I asked this girl for the password, she said, 'She has six brothers.' 'She' - not 'I' - and EVERYONE knows there are six Weasley brothers!" Harry looked at his friends frantically, willing them to understand and help him. "I'm going to the girls' dormitory to find Ginny. Ron, you guard this girl. Neville, run and get McGonagall. Seamus, stop that!" he snapped as Seamus reached out to lift the blanket a wee bit for a little peek at the goods beneath it.

Seamus grumbled, "Harry gets all the fun," quietly as he backed away. Harry shot him a filthy look.

"Harry, you can't get into the girls' dormitory," Ron protested. "The stairs turn into a slide, and an alarm goes off - you remember when I tried that last year."

"That's why I'm flying," he replied. "Accio Firebolt!" His broom leapt to his hand.

"Nobody can fly in a spiral staircase," Dean protested, "not even you, Harry."

"I'm bloody well going to try. I have to see if Ginny's all right. MOVE, Neville! Ron, don't let anyone untie her - and keep her covered!" Harry cried as he kicked off and flew out the door, his open shirt flapping around him. Dean was right, nobody had ever heard of someone even trying to fly a broom up or down one of the Gryffindor tower spiral staircases, but Harry was going to manage it or die trying. He had to fly with the broom in a steep dive to make the turns, but dives were his speciality, so he managed it, getting through the boys' staircase with no real problem, zooming across the Common Room and making his way up the girls' staircase. The alarm sounded, but the stairs stayed solid. Apparently the alarm was set to go off when a male crossed the threshold whether on foot or on a broom, so the planners must have thought someone might try flying in on a broom someday. He reached the door marked "Fifth Year Girls" and pounded on it, calling "Ginny! Ginny!" Finally, a girl opened the door a tiny bit. He shoved it open further and demanded, "Where's Ginny? Is she here?"

The girl gaped openly at Harry's bare chest before coming to her senses and saying, "Hang on, let me look." She gulped as she tore her eyes away from him, then disappeared and returned a few moments later, looking puzzled. "She's not here, Harry. What's wrong?"

"Someone's Polyjuiced herself to look like Ginny. I need to find her. She could be hurt. Did you check the wardrobes?" he asked anxiously. "I can't stand this. I'll help you look," he added, throwing the door open and flying into the room. "Sorry," he said to the squealing girls who were rushing to cover their pyjamas with anything close at hand. "I promise not to look, but I have to find Ginny."

The girl who'd answered the door explained the situation to the others as they all went through their wardrobes and trunks, and even looked under their beds, stealing peeks at Harry as often as they could. He was searching so frantically, he didn't notice their attention. They also searched Ginny's wardrobe and trunk and under her bed. No Ginny, but her bed did look slept in, and felt warm. She hadn't been gone long.

"Where could she be?" Harry muttered anxiously.

"Maybe the loo?" one of the girls suggested. "When the alarm goes off, we're supposed to stay in whatever room we're in until it's shut off. Enchantments make us stay on the floor we're on when the alarm sounds, so she might be stuck there."

"Thanks!" he cried, turning his broom to the door. Then he stopped. "Oh wait - where is it?"

"Down two flights and turn left, you can't miss it," one of the girls answered.

"Thanks again!" Harry said, and then zoomed out of the door, down the stairs and down the left corridor to the loo. He banged on the door so hard, his fist throbbed from the concussions. "Ginny? Ginny! Are you in there?"

Ginny came to the door, her hair dishevelled from sleep, her eyes groggy, her dressing gown tied loosely over her nightgown, fluffy old slippers on her feet. She looked very young and not at all seductive, and amazingly beautiful and wonderfully seductive at the same time. He gasped at the sight of her. "Ginny! Thank goodness! I was so worried!"

"What's going on? I heard the alarm, and just stayed here. . ." she said, waving one arm sleepily in the general direction of the bathroom behind her. "How did you get up here?"

"On my broom," he answered, nodding at the broom he was hovering on. He reached out to her. "Come on, get up here. We have to go to my room."

"What? Why?" Ginny answered warily, taking a step back from him. "Who are you and what have you done with Harry Potter?"

"I'm Harry, honest. Would anyone else be barmy enough to try flying up here?"

She thought for the briefest moment, then a wry grin crossed her face. "If you flew up here, you're definitely the real Harry Potter."

Harry's cheeky grin appeared briefly before he went on. "Someone has Polyjuiced herself. . ." he smacked himself in the forehead as realization hit, "oh no, it could be himself! Gross!!"

"What?"

"Someone got in my bed that looked exactly like you - erm, well, I suppose she looks exactly like you," he said with a sudden flush of embarrassment as he remembered ogling the beautiful girl in his bed while trying very hard not to look at her. "Just come with me, you'll understand as soon as you see. And McGonagall should be there by now.'

"McGonagall?"

"Please wake up, Ginny, it will be loads easier for you to understand," Harry said with a fond chuckle. "What's the password?"

"Cat in jumper. Why?"

"Just making sure," he said as he pulled her onto the broom in front of him and kissed her soundly.

"Why is your shirt open?" she asked as they broke the kiss.

"Long story. Tell you later," he said grimly. She looked at him in surprise. He rarely sounded that serious unless there was imminent danger or he was flamingly angry.


"What did she do to you?" she asked anxiously, pushing the pyjama top aside, trying to look him over for wounds.

"She didn't hurt me, don't worry," he assured her. "She unbuttoned my shirt. I came to my senses sometime around then, I guess."

"Huh?"

"May I please explain it later?" he said patiently.

"Oh. OK," she agreed. "Wait a minute. How did you know where to look for me?"

"I flew up to your dorm and we searched for you. The girls told me you might be in the loo."

"You went into my room looking like that?" She looked from his face, which looked gaunt and handsome with the vestiges of his rage and fear making his jaw tense and his eyes flame, to his muscular chest. "Oh, my. I'll bet you made quite an impression," she said with a smile.

"Huh?"

"I'll explain it later, Harry," she said, giving him a peck on the nose and settling back into his arms for the flight to his room.

Ginny squealed as they flew down her spiral staircase and up his. "I didn't think anyone could fly these staircases," she said, giggling.

"I didn't see any other way to deal with the situation," he replied, holding her tightly.

The alarm turned off as soon as Harry left the girls' staircase. Hermione had heard his voice but was forced by the tower's enchantments to stay on her own floor until the alarm was turned off. As soon as it quieted, she came pelting down the girls' dorm stairs, across the Common Room and up the stairs to the boys' dormitories. "What's going on?" she called up the stairs to the broom tail she could see moving above her. Nobody but Harry would try such a feat of flying, she thought.

"Come and see," Harry called down to her.

When they arrived in Harry's room, four boys, a girl who looked exactly like Ginny and a very upset Professor all stared at Harry. "I trust there's an explanation for all this, Potter?" Professor McGonagall said tersely, pulling her tartan dressing gown more tightly around her. "And do button your shirt. There's already been enough excitement around here this evening."

Harry blushed, helped Ginny off of his broom and stood his broom in the corner, then buttoned his pyjama top as he explained what had happened. He told the professor that he'd feared Ginny was hurt, captive or even dead, since someone was impersonating her, so he'd gone to rescue her. He was shaking now as his adrenalin ebbed away after the long panic of discovering the girl in his bed and then trying to find Ginny. When he finished his story, he sat on the edge of his bed, pulled Ginny next to him and held on to her as if he'd never let her go, with his face buried in her neck. He breathed in the scent of her, trembling at the thought that he might have lost her forever. She held him quietly, stroking his hair and back to calm him, waiting for him to relax.

When Harry was past the worst of the adrenalin letdown, Ginny looked at the girl on the floor. "What I want to know is," she said quietly, "who is this, and how did she get my hair to do the Polyjuice?"

"I'd like to know that as well," McGonagall said. "She won't speak. We'll just have to wait until the Polyjuice wears off to see who she is."

Harry straightened up as an idea hit him. "I know one way she could've got the hair."

Everyone looked at him, puzzled.

"That woman in The Ladies' Shop - she brushed your hair, Ginny, then put the brush in a basket. It had a few of your hairs in it. I saw them. They caught the light as she put the brush away."

"You think Madam Desiree is trying to hurt you somehow?" Ginny said in disbelief.

"I don't know, but her having your hair in the brush just sticks in my mind. She had Hermione's hair in another brush too," Harry reminded her.

"Whoever this is, it must be a Gryffindor or she couldn't get in," McGonagall said. Then she turned slowly to Neville. "Unless, of course," she said carefully, "someone left a list of passwords lying about where it could be stolen. . .again?"

"I haven't written them down, Professor, honest!" Neville protested.

"Well, we'll see what this girl has to say when she's herself then," McGonagall said, still eyeing Neville suspiciously.

"I'll go search the girls' dormitory, see if any of the girls are missing," Hermione offered. "What do you want me to tell the girls when they ask? They were worried about the alarm, except for those who found out from Harry what was going on."

"Tell them the truth," McGonagall replied tartly. "Someone has taken Polyjuice potion to impersonate Ginny Weasley in order to harm Harry Potter. Harry was smart enough to see through the charade. Maybe knowing he's not so easily fooled will keep others from trying it."


"All right," Hermione said, and left to search the girls' dormitories.

"Mr. Longbottom, would you please go through the boys' dormitories and answer any questions that the other students may have? I imagine there are a lot of confused and nervous students after hearing that alarm and Harry's shouts," McGonagall said.

"Yes, Professor," Neville said, and left to do her bidding.

The sixth year boys' dormitory was quiet for a few moments, and then Dean spoke up. "What I don't understand - well, one of many things I don't understand about this, actually - is how Harry could be hurt by shagging his girlfriend," he said logically. "I mean, I understand that they could get in trouble if they got caught like that, and Ron might not appreciate Harry doing that with his sister, with Ron right here in the next bed. . .but neither of those things would really hurt Harry. Maybe this is just one of those fan girls who figured out a way to get to him."

"You could be right, Mr. Thomas," McGonagall said thoughtfully.

Ginny stood up and circled the girl warily. It was eerie to see two identical girls with such different expressions - Ginny absolutely furious, but concentrating seriously, the other girl looking defiant and fearful at the same time. "I've got it," Ginny said triumphantly.

"Got what?" Harry said, flummoxed.


"I never wear lipstick. My lips are too red as they are, so I've never seen any reason for me to wear lipstick. She has a ton of lipstick on. Look at her! I'll bet it has poison or something in it," she said wisely. "Madam Pomfrey or Professor Snape should analyse it."

"I think that's a good idea," McGonagall said.

"Wipe it off her mouth before she takes it herself," Harry warned. "She may be under Imperius. If Voldemort - get over it!" he snapped to his roommates who gasped at the name, "if he set this up, he probably gave her an order to kill herself if she was caught. That would be his way. He would just consider her to be another tool to be discarded when it isn't useful anymore."

McGonagall nodded, and bent to wipe the girl's lipstick off on a handkerchief. The girl fought her action like a wildcat, despite being tied up. Ron pushed the others aside and sat on the girl. "That's my sister's body. If anyone's going to hold her down, it's going to be me," he said grimly as he suited action to words. He seemed to be taking it personally that his sister had been impersonated in order to harm Harry. With his assistance, McGonagall was able to remove all of the girl's lipstick.

"Mr. Thomas, would you please go to Professor Snape's office and ask him to analyse this lipstick, looking for something that could be harmful? Feel free to tell him the entire story."

"Yes, Professor," Dean said, and ran off to do his errand.

Ginny went back to sit next to Harry on the edge of his bed. He held her close, resting his cheek against the top of her head. Ginny leaned her head against his shoulder, her hand idly tracing the muscles of his chest through his pyjama top. "That feels nice," he murmured, thinking about how it felt so good when Ginny did it, but felt so creepy when that other girl had touched him in a similar way.

"To me, too," she agreed. She snuggled against him, enjoying the feeling of his arm around her back, his hand resting on her shoulder, his thumb gently stroking her cheek.

"I was so scared," Harry murmured, a shiver running through him.

"It's OK now," she assured him. "I'm here, I'm not hurt. Thanks for coming to look for me."

"How could I not?" he said simply.

Hermione returned just then. "The only girl missing from any of the dorms is Parvati Patil. Nobody knows where she is.

In a few more minutes, the girl started to change back into herself. Harry breathed a sigh of relief to see it was a girl, then asked, "Parvati? Why did you do this?"

"Do what? Why am I tied up like this? Where am I?" she said, obviously bewildered.

"Hmm," McGonagall said. "Probably Imperius and a Memory Charm on top of the Polyjuice. I'll take her to Professor Dumbledore and we'll try to find out what we can. Has anyone looked around for her clothes? Surely she didn't come from her room without a stitch on."

Everyone searched the room, and Ginny found Parvati's pyjamas, dressing gown and slippers kicked under Harry's bed. "Here they are," she said.

"Thank you, Miss Weasley," Professor McGonagall said. "Boys, if you will give us a few moments of privacy, we'll get Miss Patil dressed and leave you to finish your night's sleep."

"Get me dressed?" Parvati said in shock. "What do you mean?" She finally realized she was wearing only a blanket and someone's dressing gown. "What happened?"

"That's what I'd like to know," McGonagall said imperiously. "Boys. Shoo." The boys left the room reluctantly, glancing over their shoulders at the tableau of the old witch and the two young ones standing over the bound one.

Just as the boys closed the door to wait in the stairway, Dean ran up the stairs. "Why are you lot out here?" he asked.

Harry and Ron looked at each other. "You explain," Harry said morosely to Ron, sliding down with his back against the wall to sit with his arms around his legs and his head on his knees. Ron filled Dean in on what had happened since he'd left.


"Did you find out anything?" Neville asked Dean.


"Yeah! Professor Snape said one kiss would've killed Harry in a matter of seconds!" Dean said, excited to be carrying such important news.

"Good thing you didn't kiss her, mate," Ron said, grinning and shoving Harry in the shoulder in a companionable way.

"I came so close," Harry said in a subdued voice. "If she'd acted more like Ginny, I probably would have."

Ron's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "You'd shag my sister with me right there in the next bed?"

Harry gave Ron his disgusted squint. "No, of course not. But I would've kissed her before making her leave if she'd acted like Ginny at all. I wouldn't have pushed her away like I kept doing with this one." He shuddered at the memory.

"What did she do that was different from Ginny?" Seamus asked, openly curious.

"Oh, let's see now. . .everything?" Harry snapped, obviously closing the subject.

When Professor McGonagall, Parvati, Hermione and Ginny emerged from the boys' room, Dean stood up and gave the professor his report. "Poison again? Hmm. Thank you, Mr. Thomas. Potter, I'll send up a house elf with clean sheets and pillowcases and new blankets for you. Don't get back into that bed until it's changed. There may be traces of the poison in the bedding."

"Yes, Professor," Harry agreed.

The professor looked up the boys' staircase and across at the girls'. Curious faces peeped around the bend in the stairs in both cases. "Miss Granger, would you please go make certain the girls settle down and get back to sleep? Mr. Weasley, would you do the same for the boys?" They nodded and ran off to send the other students back to bed.

Harry watched McGonagall and Parvati walk through the portrait hole as the other students went into their rooms and back to bed. Ginny hesitated, then came back up to talk to him.

"What are you going to do now?" she asked.


"What do you mean?"

"You can't go back to bed until you have fresh bedding."

"Oh. I'll just sit in the Common Room until then, I guess," he said with a shrug.

"Then I'll sit up with you," she offered.


"You don't have to do that," he said, smiling down at her.


"I want to."

"OK. Let me get my dressing gown and slippers. It'll be cold down there now that the fire's gone out."

A few moments later, they were snuggling together on the couch. Ginny had magically rekindled the fire to take the chill off the room. Harry wrapped his arms around her, enjoying the way her small body fit into his side just so. "Did you know you're perfect?" he said, smiling tenderly at her.


"Well, what else would I be?" she teased. "But of course, I like to hear my perfections explained. Do go on."

"You fit so perfectly under my arm when we're sitting together, as if you were made to fit there. And when we're walking together, your shoulders are at the perfect arm-rest height for me. You're just the right size."

"Oh, is that the only way I'm perfect?" she asked tartly, a saucy grin on her face.

"Well, now that you mention it, you do have one imperfection, but it's a perfect imperfection," he teased, tickling her neck.

The tickling made her giggle. "I have an imperfection? Where?" she demanded, looking up and down her woollen dressing gown as if she could find it there.

"You have this absolutely delicious heart-shaped mark . . ." Harry began.


"I do?"

"Either you or Parvati does - one of you had it. It showed on her."

"That witch!" Ginny snapped indignantly.

"It's in a place you might not have noticed," he said, his eyes dancing. "One of these days, I just may have to see if you're the one who has it. It's in serious need of at least one kiss. I could tell just by looking at it."

"You big tease," she said, laughing.


"It will be a dangerous expedition, not one to be taken lightly, but in the name of science, it should be determined if that mark is yours or hers."


Ginny's eyes were wide. Despite his silly words, Harry was acting very serious for some reason. "Where is it?"

"Someplace you won't let me look for a long, long time, I suspect," he teased, grinning that he'd fooled her for a moment.

"Where?" she asked again.

"On the back of your absolutely gorgeous bum, my sweet girl," he said with a delighted smile. "I will cherish the memory until I'm able to find out for myself if it's yours or not."


"I'm going to find out which of us has it. I don't want you cherishing any memories of Parvati!" Ginny said, pretending to be incensed. She grabbed a small pillow and tried to hit Harry with it, a move he ducked expertly, having dodged much more dangerous objects in Quidditch for several years now. He grabbed her hands and pulled them above her head, adequately stopping any potential carnage with pillows, and then pushed her back on the couch, leaning over her.

"Do you know how absolutely beautiful you are?" he said quietly, and then kissed her softly, the kiss quickly growing more serious. He released her hands and gently cupped her head with one hand, his long fingers laced through her hair, leaning on his other arm to keep his weight off of her. She wrapped her arms around him and moaned, pulling him closer to her. Harry gave up on propriety and lay on top of her, holding her as closely as he could but bracing himself on his elbows to avoid putting his full weight on her, tracing the line of her jaw and the cords of her neck with kisses and soft nibbles. His hand strayed, apparently of its own accord, leaving her hair and running gently down her neck, then her shoulder, then tracing her collarbone briefly. It was heading for her chest with flawless accuracy when, with a sudden groan, he pulled away.

"What?" Ginny said, her face confused.

"Nothing." He sat shaking, his breath coming in gasps.


"What's wrong? Is it your scar?" she asked anxiously.

"No. It's you."

"Me?" she said, aghast. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Nope."

"Then what?"

Harry sat with his elbows on his knees, his head bowed, demanding his body to stop fighting his will. When he thought he'd mastered himself sufficiently, he turned back to Ginny, his gentle touch soothing the worried expression off her face. "We're not ready for where that was going," he said finally.

"Is that what happened? Oh, Harry," she said, moving next to him and wriggling inside his arms, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Don't you know that I've been ready for ages?"

"You have?" He was genuinely shocked.

"Yes," she said, looking up at him with eyes full of love. "Whenever you're ready, I'm ready."

"You are ?" he asked in disbelief.

"Completely. I've been waiting for you forever."

He wrapped his arms around her and held her closely. "I'll remember that," he murmured tenderly as he kissed the top of her head. They watched the embers of the fire until Dobby arrived with fresh bedding for Harry.


"Harry Potter, sir!" Dobby said excitedly. "Dobby is so sorry to hear someone tried to poison you again! Dobby will burn that bedding, sir, every stitch, so there's no chance someone will get sick from it. Dobby will go change your bed right now, don't you worry, Harry Potter, sir!" With that, he hurried up the stairs.

Harry and Ginny smiled at each other, touched and somewhat amused by Dobby's earnest efforts to take good care of Harry. "I guess our late date is nearly over," Harry murmured.

"Yeah. I've enjoyed it in spite of everything," Ginny agreed, snuggling against him again. They sat quietly for a while, only moving when Dobby announced Harry's bed was ready. Harry thanked Dobby sincerely and stood up, pulling Ginny up with him. They shared a chaste but reluctant kiss goodnight and went to their separate rooms.