Blood (thicker than) Water (but what about) Lemonade?

Desolation, Devastation

Avril and Harry ran into the Entrance Hall, and skidded to a stop in front of McGonagall.

"Professor!" Avril sputtered, blocking McGonagall's way, "Ron Weasley- his dad works at the Ministry- he could be hurt!"

To Harry's surprise, McGonagall looked indifferent. "I'm sorry, Miss Ardree, but there's nothing we can do. Dumbledore's sending owls every which way, but we are receiving very little news. It appears that anyone who was at the Ministry has been either taken away or," she paused, looking very harassed, "killed." She patted her hair, which was still being held under her sleeping cap and was very frayed looking, and glanced around the Hall, as if there were Death Eaters lurking near the entrance. "Now, please go and find a seat in the Great Hall. Professor Dumbledore wants everyone together. We'll fill you in on all the news we can. Until then, all you can do is pray."

Harry felt as if he were going to be sick. His stomach lurched and his knees threaten to buckle.

"Let's go sit down," he croaked to Avril, who had also gone very pale. They sunk into seats at their table, where Angelina Johnson, a friend of hers from Ravenclaw, and a few younger Gryffindors harry didn't know were already sitting. Angelina looked at her wits end with worry, and Avril leaned toward him. "Angelina's big brother works for the Games and Recreation department- she mentioned it awhile ago."

Harry didn't reply.

Snape, who had been sent to monitor the students in the Hall spotted Avril and hurried to her table.

"Are you all right?" he asked in a low voice, sitting on her other side.

Avril nodded, though it felt as if she had a rather large lump in her throat. "I am. What news?"

Snape looked reluctant. "We haven't much- Dumbledore's waiting for Voldemort to send him some sort of demand letter for the ones who were kidnapped."

He spoke of this as if it were an event happening in some far away, unfortunate country, instead of in their very own neighborhood.

Avril nodded, then glanced at Harry. He was staring at his hands, which were resting on the table in front of him, a look of disbelief on his face.

"I'd best be going," Snape muttered, following Avril's gaze. "I must speak with members of my house."

Avril bid him good-bye and turned back to Harry. "Don't be so worried, Harry," she said, trying to comfort him, "after all, I may have heard Ron wrong- Mr Weasley might not even be at the Ministry. He may be at home, glad he's not at the Ministry. Or he might be hiding, safe in a secret wall where the Death Eaters can't find them. In the Ministry back home, they had all sorts of secret passages and walls that only select people knew about. I know this because my dad was a trusted Auror and kept the maps of the Ministry castle, where it showed the secret rooms. He told me that some of them held gold, spell books, and even deadly potions! There was one room-"

"Avril, could you just shut up now-please?" Harry asked, his voice tinged with hysteria, "I don't want to think about what's going on at the Ministry or anything at all. Tell me later, OK?"

Avril nodded and stopped talking. She rested her hand on his arm and sighed. "I hope they find out some information soon. I can't stand the suspense."

Harry gritted his teeth against the constantly pounding inside his head. Why, why was this happening? Why did bad things happen to good people?

Defeated and hopelessly downcast, Harry lowered his head into his arms, resting on the table. Avril didn't know what to say. She felt for him, understood his anxiety; remembered it from when she would wait for her parents to come home from their missions. But usually, she had been alone during that time. There was rarely anyone around to ease her worry, and therefore she didn't know what to say to Harry.

On the other hand, Harry probably wouldn't have heard it. He was lost in his own thoughts. This was different from the fast-thinking, cast spell first ask questions later type scenarios Harry was used to. This required no action on his part- just waiting. There was absolutely nothing Harry could do. He was helpless. But that wasn't the worst of it. Having to sit in the quiet of the Great Hall, unable to act, unable to help, forced Harry to listen to the harsh conceptions that were running through his mind.

This was all his fault. Voldemort wouldn't be going after innocent people if it hadn't been for him. Mr Weasley wouldn't be in danger if it wasn't for Harry. Somehow, Voldemort knew that the Weasley's were his family. He knew how much Harry cared about them, and went after them. First Ginny, and now this?

Harry was jerked from his thoughts when a loud bang issued in the entrance when the doors flung open. Professor McGonagall came in, walking quickly and stressfully. In her hand was a thick envelope, much like the ones they gave out at Hogwarts during the summer.

Harry and Avril jumped up and approached her first.

"Is that the list?" Harry demanded.

McGonagall nodded, her face paling and her lips tight.

Avril took the envelope and broke the seal, which was stamped with a serpent symbol. McGonagall went to sit down beside Angelina.

Inside the envelope was a letter. Avril began reading, while Harry read over her shoulder.

My Dearest Nemesis and Mudblood Lover,

I am sorry to have kept you waiting, but sorting out hostages and gathering their names can be quite overtaxing. I expect you'll want them, of course, so I enclose their names on the list below. You'll find that many of them are family men (or, women- I am not a sexist man). Much to my delight, many of them parent your precious students. Unfortunately (to you, of course), some resisted capture and had to be executed. I report this with the deepest regret, but once a hostage has rebelled, they are of no use to you any longer. I know you'll understand. Do not make fuss, dear Dumbledore- they were worthless. Back to business. For the hostages, I want three simple things. Firstly, your resignation from Hogwarts. Secondly, Fudge's resignation from the Ministry, and third and most importantly, the Thaumaturgism spell books. If my requisitions are met, I will set the hostages (listed below, for your convenience) free. This will, of course, do them little good, as they will be dead within a mere month of their freedom regardless. But alas! I am giving too much away. I will give you and Fudge one month to resign and find the spell books. After that, I am afraid I will be forced to 'lighten our load of boarders' - they do eat quite a bit, you know.

Happy Christmas,

Lord Voldemort

P.S. Do not be a fool, Dumbledore. I know you have the books.

"I can't believe him!" Harry burst out angrily. Avril jumped, her fingers trembling. She, who had never met Voldemort, but had been raised to fear him like any other young witch or wizard, was in a state of shock.

"He jokes around about 'lightening his load' that bastard!"

This felt better- only slightly, but better- being able to express some sort of emotion.

Harry stormed toward McGonagall, stopping only a few inches from her.

"When did you get this?" Harry demanded, waving the letter. McGonagall looked ready to cry. Instead, she straightened and looked Harry in the eye. "Only a moment ago. Dumbledore has read it, and is now planning action."

Avril came up behind them. "Harry?" she whispered, holding another piece of parchment in her hand.

"What is it?" Harry asked, taking the parchment from her and scanning it.

It was the list of names, written alphabetically, supposedly for 'Dumbledore's convenience'.

At the top, there were a few names, but the most recognizable were Bones and Brockelshurst. There was also Diggory. Amos Diggory, Harry thought, then continued to read. Moon, Plaigitte, Kardaik, Quintif and Rightmyer...

Avril scanned quicker.

"Shayfire, Sherwin, Vixenne, Warbleck, Weasley! Harry! Mr Weasley's on the list!"

Harry wasn't sure how to take this. On one hand, he wasn't dead. That was a major relief. On the other hand, how long would he remain alive? At least they knew. That was the only good thing (if you could call it that) Harry could find in this whole ordeal.

He turned to McGonagall. "When did you find out about this?" he asked her, the now familiar wave of nausea washing over him.

McGonagall gave him a strange look, and began walking to the exit.

Harry and Avril followed her, listening as she talked.

"Professor Snape came to Dumbledore early this morning, babbling about some sort of attack. Then, we received an owl from a connection of Dumbledore's-" she stopped, and whirled around to face them. "But you will breathe none of this to anyone, do you hear? I've already told you too much."

Harry and Avril both nodded, then watched as McGonagall left the Hall. They both exchanged glances.

"Uncle... Severus?" Avril whispered, turning her gaze to where Snape was speaking to the members of his house.

Some of them, Harry noted, didn't look the least bit upset. Or surprised, he thought bitterly. That explained Malfoy's sudden desire to 'spend Christmas with his family'.

Harry's attention was suddenly diverted by Avril, who was tugging on his sleeve.

"Harry," she muttered, nodding her head toward the Gryffindor table.

There, her Ravenclaw friend was trying to comfort Angelina, who had collapsed completely and was in tears.

"What's happened?" Avril asked, sitting across from them.

"It's her brother- Tyler. He, he wasn't on the list," the Ravenclaw girl said, trying valiantly to calm her down.

Harry stared his Quidditch captain, stunned. This was unbelievable. Only three days ago her top priority was the Quidditch team. Her main concern had been to form a truce between Harry and Avril. It had been so important to her.

Now, such things seemed childish and totally irrelevant.

Listening to Angelina's soft sobs made Harry realize that.

He looked around, at the pale, frightened faces of Hogwarts. Some were like Angelina- in tears.

The scene made Harry think about what the Weasleys might be doing at that very moment. He could see it. There would probably be a tree in their living room, decorated with homemade ornaments, a pile of lumpy presents (jumpers) piled underneath.

But they would be forgotten, Harry told himself. They probably won't be opened for months- if at all.

No, the Weasley's would probably be gathered in the kitchen. Mrs Weasley would cry. Ginny would too.

Harry knew them well enough for that.

Ron wouldn't though. He and his brothers would probably be sick. Harry shuddered. He didn't want to think about something like that.

He erased the image from his mind, but to without great difficulty.

There was so much heartache going on Christmas.

Harry gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, hating Voldemort more than Snape, more than the Dursley's, more than, Malfoy. He hated this man- this monster that thrived on ripping families apart. At that moment, Harry was engulfed in trembling rage. He wanted to throw things- he wanted to kick-hurt something. This wasn't fair.

Suddenly, Angelina let out a fresh cry and Harry couldn't take it anymore. He stood quickly, causing the bench to scrape loudly on the floor.

The noise made several already shaken people jump.

Harry headed quickly to the door, Avril following close behind him.

No one tried to stop them, not even when McGonagall ran into them on the stairway.

Together, Harry and Avril walked silently to their dormitory.

"Jingley Ring," Harry snapped at the Fat Lady. she swung her door open, clearly shocked at his tone.

Once inside the Common Room, Harry went straight up to his dormitory, without speaking to Avril.

Avril watched him go, not knowing what to do or say, when a flash of white suddenly caught her attention.

It was his owl, Hedwig. She was sitting perched on the back of a chair. Several letters were laying at her feet. Avril was drawn to the letters; due to recent events her curiosity was overwhelming. She picked up the three letters, and saw that two were addressed to Harry/Avril, and one (from Sirius) was blank.

Avril slit open the letter with no seal, and read:

Harry and Avril,

I've only just heard the news. It's awful, isn't it? I'm listening as best I can to my Wizarding Wireless Network radio for details. So far, You-Know-Who has taken hostages, though the news doesn't know who exactly yet. There's more. Ron probably didn't tell you, but his dad Mr Weasley had to work at the Ministry Christmas Eve until early Christmas Morning. Now, I'm not sure, but I'm afraid that Mr Weasley may be in trouble. I've written Ron with my condolences, and I really hope that, if Mr Weasley's with You-Know-Who, Ron's family is all right. I can't stand to think of how distressed they are! I know that Harry will probably be upset about this, but remember: we aren't actually sure whether or not Mr Weasley is still at the Ministry. I thought I'd just write you with the news, in case you hadn't yet heard. I'll be back after the holidays, and hopefully Ron will too. If he writes back, I'll write to you again.

See you soon (hopefully),

Love From Hermione.

Avril dropped the note, her mind spinning. Hermione didn't know? Well, she had probably written that an hour or so ago. Avril picked up the next letter and tore it open. The untidy scrawl and numerous ink blots instantly told her that it was from Ron and her heart began to race quickly.

Ministry's been attacked. Dad was working- You Know Who's got him now- Dumbledore wrote. Mum and Ginny are all mad and crying, and Percy's in his room. Bill and Charlie'r coming down to help the Magical Law Enforcement Squad- well, what's left of it. Fred and George want to help too, but Mum won't hear of it. Expect that there's a lot going on at Hogwarts too. Just heard the news on the Wireless: Fudge wasn't at the Ministry. He's fine- just really angry and all that crap. I can't promise that I'll be back after Christmas- have to see what happens. Wish you were here- could really use someone to talk to. Ron

Avril stared at the letter in disbelief. Those poor people. Her hands trembling, Avril shoved the letter back into it's envelope.

Next, Avril pried the blank envelope open and read:

Harry,

I'm pretty sure you know about what's happened in London- Dumbledore's written me, and so I'm assuming he's told you. I can't write much, as I'm needed elsewhere, but I'm going to tell you one thing- listen to whatever Dumbledore says, and trust no one but your closest friends. That means Hermione and Ron. Voldemort's starting his official reign of terror now, and unless you're not careful, you could end up like some of those Ministry workers. I'll be gone for awhile- there's something I need to do for Dumbledore. I'll write as soon as I get back, and maybe even before that. Until then, keep one eye on Snape, and the other on the Lamia.. They both need watching.

Remember- trust no one

Sirius

Avril decided to disregard the Lamia comment. It wasn't the time. Instead, she put the letter back in its envelope and took it up to Harry.

"Harry?" she knocked timidly on the door as she opened it.

Harry was sitting on his bed, staring out the window at the beautiful Christmas morning. his presents were still at the foot of his bed, unmoved, untouched.

Avril's were still where she'd dumped them, on Ron's bed.

"What?" Harry asked without looking at her.

"You've got post."

Harry took the letters.

He read them, then crumpled them and leaned against one of the posts on his four poster.

"Everyone's heard, then," he said dully.

Avril nodded. "It- it was on the news."

Avril sat down beside him, and looked out onto the grounds. There was white everywhere; it had snowed the night before, and the grounds were magical. Snow fell softly, slowly, in large flakes settling perfectly on the already white ground. The scene was deceitful- it implied a wonderful Christmas. It implied a perfect, white Christmas.

Avril sighed and rested her head, exhausted and spiritless, on Harry's shoulder. "What's going to happen?" she whispered, unsure.

Harry hesitated, then took her hand, friend to friend. "I, I don't know," he answered truthfully.

"We'll have to wait."

Having Avril looking to Harry gave him a sort of strength, and he tried to sound confident.

"Dumbledore'll sort it out, though, I know he will. Until then, there isn't much we can do."

Avril sat straight up again and fought back tears.

"It's not fair!" she choked, standing and yanking her hand away. "Why should all those people- all those families- have to suffer? On Christmas, no less?"

Harry stood too now, and took hold of her shoulders.

"Because Voldemort's a sick monster, Avril. That's why," he answered fiercely. "Because there's evil in the world, and no matter how hard we fight against it, there will always be some sort of evil. The important thing is," he said, gripping her shoulders tightly and glaring into her eyes, "we need to resist it. We need to be one of the few who can withstand the temptation."

He let go of her then, and averted his eyes, which were glazing over with retention for his parents. They had fought bravely against Voldemort's evil, their courage never wavering-until he'd killed them.

"Dumbledore once said that we are only as weak as we are divided, as strong as we are united. As long as we stay together, Avril, there's hope for anyone," he told her, trembling with a mix of fear and fury.

Avril stepped into Harry's arms, tears gathering in her eyes. "Even the innocent?" she whispered, thinking of Mr Weasley and the hostages.

Harry hesitantly returned embrace, to comfort Avril, and rested his chin in her hair. Fighting this wouldn't be easy. Things like this never were. But they'd have to try. It was the best chance they had.

Harry pulled back, and looked into Avril's dark blue-grey eyes, recognizing the fear and affliction in them.

"Especially the innocent."

19

Arrest

Ron, returned with the rest of the school the following week. So did Ginny, Fred and George.

In a way, Harry wished they hadn't. The anguish they were under was unmistakable, and there was only so much you could say or do to try and cheer them up.

Fred and George no longer drew attention to themselves. Instead, they buried themselves in their Weasley Wizard Wheezes, hardly speaking to anyone except their family, which didn't exactly include Harry, Hermione and Avril.

Ginny was devastated. Often, the youngest Weasley would disappear into her dormitory, only to emerge with bloodshot eyes and a tear-streaked face. She couldn't concentrate on her school work, she couldn't sleep (according to Hermione) and hardly ate. It was perfectly understandable; none of the Weasley's slept or ate much these days.

Ron was the worst, mainly because he and Harry were close. He had always been the joker, the sarcastic, jesting, he'll-pat-you-on-the-back-but-for-the-love-of-God-don't-hug-him one of the four (once three). Now, he was spiritless. He was quiet, jumpy, and distant with his friends. He wasn't Ron. After a few days or so, Hermione and Avril began pressuring Harry to speak with him.

Harry didn't like the thought of that. Ron was 'insubstantial' (as Hermione put it) at the moment. Harry didn't want to break him by saying the wrong thing.

"I don't know Hermione," he said, glancing nervously up at the door of the dormitory, "I'm not usually the one who talks. Can't you-"

"No, Harry," Hermione had interrupted, "I can't talk to him. You're his best friend. You've been through a lot together. You don't have to hug him- I promise. Just let him know how much we... care about him, and that we're there for him if he needs us. OK?"

Harry hesitated, looking from Avril to Hermione, then back to the dormitory door.

"You're right," he sighed, standing. "I'll talk to him."

They were right. He had to be there for Ron- for all the Weasley's. Besides, as he'd found out the week before, comforting people made him feel stronger.

Stronger was good.

Harry smiled weakly and climbed the winding staircase up to the dormitory. He went inside, and saw Ron lying on his stomach, on his bed.

"Hey," Harry said, sitting on the edge of his.

Ron looked up, but didn't reply.

"I won't ask how its going," Harry said, picking at his bedspread, eyeing Ron warily.

"Good," Ron muttered.

There was an uncomfortable silence, the Harry took a deep breath.

"Look, Ron, I know that- that this is really hard for you- I mean, your dad-"

"I know," Ron cut in, holding his head up with his elbows. "You, Hermione and Avril are all worried about me and you're behind me for support all the way, and if I ever need to talk to someone-"

"Exactly," Harry affirmed.

There was another silence.

"So, have you heard any news?" Ron asked, tilting his head slightly and glancing at Harry.

Avril had been to see Snape the night before, and had come back with some rather unusual news.

"Dumbledore says he'll resign as Headmaster of Hogwarts- it's only a title; it means nothing. It doesn't mean he won't remain at Hogwarts," Avril had reported to Hermione and Harry when she'd returned. They'd filled Hermione in on the details of the ransom letter, but had thought the details a little too severe for Ron. "But Fudge refuses to resign as Minister. He told Dumbledore that You Know Who doesn't scare him in the slightest, and that if he doesn't return his Ministry members safely within a week, he'll go after You Know Who's Death Eaters."

"Yeah, like that'll do any good," Harry had muttered bitterly. "What's he going to do? He doesn't have a Hit Wizard Team anymore."

"Actually, he does," Avril had replied grimly. "There's a few who hadn't been on shift or something. He's in the process of scouring the county in search of people who were involved."

Suddenly, Harry had had an idea.

"But what about the spell books?" he pressed. "The Thaumatism spell books. What are they?"

Avril shrugged.

Both she and Harry had looked at Hermione, who'd furrowed her brow for a moment, deep in thought. Then-

"The Thaumaturgism spell books?" she asked, looking uncertain.

Avril had lit up.

"Yeah! The Thaumaturgism spell books! Do you know about them?"

Hermione had nodded slowly. "I remember reading something about them once... I can't remember exactly, but I know I could find the book in the Library somewhere. Give me a few days?"

And so Hermione had been spending most of her free time (when she wasn't consoling Ginny or worrying about Ron) in the library, pouring over thick, books with tiny print featuring different kinds of spells.

The funny thing was, Avril remembered something about those spell books too. Maybe it was from a time when she and Hermione had been doing homework. Hermione was known for reading aloud anything she thought was interesting. Avril knew she'd heard it somewhere, but couldn't think of when, or where, or any other details. Oh well, she'd reasoned to herself, I'll know soon enough. Hermione's got to be getting closer.

"A little- not much," Harry answered truthfully. Snape had apologetically denied knowing any details of the condition of the hostages- Voldemort hadn't sent another letter since Christmas.

"Figures," Ron muttered, sitting up and kicking the side of his bed rhythmically.

"Well-" Thud, thud, thud. Harry stopped, trying to think of comforting words over top of the kicking noise.

"Ron-" Thud, thud, thud.

"Dumbledore's-" Thud, thud, thud-

"Ron, would you quit it?" Harry blurted, leaping forward and grabbing hold of Ron's feet.

Ron stopped kicking.

"Dumbledore's doing all he can," Harry explained, leaning back onto his own bed.

"Any word of my dad though?" Ron asked.

"No. But in some ways, that's a good thing," Harry offered.

"How?" Ron sounded skeptical.

"Well, in some Muggle movies Dudley used to go see at the cinema, every time the terrorist- that's a bad guy- er, killed one of his hostages, he sent a message telling the ransom payers so they would hurry up- I'm not helping, am I?" Harry said, wincing.

Ron gave a small smile. "You're helping more than you think."

He rolled back onto his stomach, and propped his head up on his arms, which were folded in front of him.

"God- I used to think I had it so bad, you know? I hated being poor, I wished my dad'd get a better job- sometimes I wished he didn't like Muggles so much- maybe then he'd get a promotion. I told him that once," he added, looking extremely remorseful. "I was so mad. I don't even remember why. I remember being jealous of you, Harry. Not because of your fame, but because you had money. Now I think to myself, 'you're such a dumbass Ron. At least you have parents.' Well, had parents."

"No, don't say that," Harry protested, climbing off his bed and kneeling beside Ron's. "You still have a dad Ron- don't give up that easily. Think of what Mr Weasley'd say if you lost hope so quick."

Ron looked up then, and for the first time since Harry had ever known him, he saw tears in Ron's eyes. They didn't threaten to break, didn't threaten to stream down Ron's face, but they were there, glistening and making his eyes cloud.

"I'd give anything to have him back at the Ministry, making two knuts an hour, Harry, anything."

Harry clapped Ron on the shoulder, knowing almost exactly what Ron meant, and feeling the same way. "I know, Ron. I know."

*****

The weeks of January went by slowly, dragging unbearably. Little news of the hostages came about, until the twenty-eighth, when a large eagle owl (resembling Draco Malfoy's quite a bit) flew through into the Great Hall (which had been hauntingly silent lately), and dropped a bright red Howler onto McGonagall's plate.

(Dumbledore had remained fairly absent during meals, but could be seen (rarely) stalking the corridors, clearly on his way somewhere each time).

All eyes were on the High table.

McGonagall whipped out her wand, but before she could do anything, it opened, and an unnaturally high voice filled the Great Hall. It wasn't a shouting, angry voice that was so common in a Howler. Instead, it was very loud- magnified, actually, and very calm. Chilling, was the word for it.

"Dumbledore," Voldemort's cold, high voice bounced off the walls. A whisper rippled throughout the Hall, mostly of people wondering whether the voice was Voldemort's or not, "I'd like to remind you that you have four days to resign from your position as Headmaster of Hogwarts, and find the Thaumaturgism spells. I'd hate for anything to happen to some of these fine men from your Ministry. Simply so you don't think I'm prevaricating, someone here would like to have a word with you."

There was a slight pause, and the tension hung heavily over the students and teachers of the Hall.

Then, there was a voice. A voice that made Harry heart skip a beat.

"All right! All right. Stop pushing. Hello? Professor Dumbledore? This- this is Arthur Weasley. We're holding out all right. Montgomery Bones has an injured leg, but everything's all right."

There was another pause, as if he was hesitating. The Weasley children were standing. Ginny's arms were wrapped around Fred's waist, and tears were streaking nonstop down her face. Ron was slightly green.

"Don't give him anything, Dumbledore! Don't do anything he asks! He's got a plan, and if you give him what he wants, he'll-"

There was a blasting sound, which sounded sickeningly to Avril like the blast coming from the tip of wand, and a yell of pain. There was silence for a moment, then Voldemort came on again:

"If the spells aren't found and delivered by the first of next month, Dumbledore, he will be first to go, for certain. I've developed a curious repugnance for that particular man. I'm sure his family will be proud. You have four days, Dumbledore."

The Howler then curled up and burst into flames. Ginny shrieked and burst into noisy tears.

Hermione leapt up and put an arm around her, while Fred, George and Ron collapsed, defeated and impotent.

McGonagall got to her feet, trembling from head to toe, and half ran from the Hall, no doubt going to inform Dumbledore. The bell rang, indicating class to begin, but no one moved. Harry and Ron stared numbly at each other, while Avril quavered slightly.

She exchanged alarmed expressions with Snape, who beckoned to her. Slowly, she stood, and approached the High Table.

"Are you all right?" Snape asked in a low voice. His pale complexion had shifted to a sickening shade of green.

"What was that?" Avril asked, not knowing what else to say.

"A warning," he answered, his eyes landing on a sobbing Ginny. "He wanted Arthur to say that. He told him about whatever plan he had, hoping that he'd get up the courage to blurt it out."

Avril nodded, having the slight impulse to cry, simply because she didn't know what else to do.

Snape leaned closer to her, so that their faces were only an inch apart. "Something may happen in the near future, Avril. I can't say what, but if it does, do not make a scene. It is imperative that you do not draw attention to yourself when they come- er, it happens."

"When what happens?" Avril asked, bewildered, "When who come?"

Snape stood and placed a hand on Avril's shoulder. "You'll know. I can't say anything right now- there are eyes and ears."

His eyes traveled to the Slytherin table, where Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle instantly averted their heads.

"Just keep to yourself, Avril. Don't draw attention to yourself. It's very important. Understand?"

Avril frowned curiously but nodded reluctantly.

Snape turned and disappeared through a door behind the table, leaving Avril standing at the near empty table.

She turned to look at Harry, who stared back, equally confused.

Avril then glanced at the Slytherin table. Malfoy made eye contact with her, and grinned maliciously.

The grin made her nervous, but Avril refused to show it. Instead, she turned away, and bit her lip. What was going to happen? She suppressed a shudder, and returned to the Gryffindor table.

"What was that all about?" Harry muttered to her in an undertone.

"I- I don't know," Avril replied softly. "I don't know, but I don't like it. Something's going to happen... to Uncle- to Snape."