Harry Potter and the Book of Shadows

Angst Lords

She had just passed outside the Hogwarts gate.

"Once again, my dear, your predictable habits will be your downfall," a voice hissed in her ear as a potion-soaked cloth was plastered over her nose and mouth. With a sneer, the man tore her wand and clip free of her robes, tossing them aside carelessly. "Won't be needing that." Struggling, she landed a hard elbow to her assailant's side. Her last thought was 'Too much henbane...' before the early morning light faded to black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry awoke to sunlight streaming though the window. The previous night came back in a rush when he realized he was sprawled out on his back, still fully clothed. At least he'd taken his glasses off, he thought as he sat up and rubbed his eyes. Ron was pulling on a clean shirt when Harry looked up. Neville, Dean, and Seamus were long gone.

"Didn't want to wake you," he said, pointing at Harry's rumpled uniform. "You looked pretty tired."

"It's fine," Harry replied, ignoring the memories that had arisen with consciousness.

Deciding he didn't feel like making the effort to shower before changing, he just exchanged his wrinkly clothes for a set of fresh ones. Maybe he'd take a shower at Number Twelve later. Maybe he'd hide there for the rest of the weekend. Maybe he'd lock himself up in Kreacher's closet permanently so he'd stop making other people's lives more miserable than they already were.

"So what happened when you guys practiced?" Ron asked casually as Harry put on a pair of tennis shoes.

Not looking up from the laces Harry asked, "What did McGonagall say?"

Ron sighed, but Harry's wish was granted and he didn't ask any more about Ginny. "We're getting Apparition lessons."

Harry sat up. "So? Everyone gets those- wait, you mean now?"

Apparition lessons were for students sixteen and over who had parental permission to take them, or for any student in seventh year. For quite a few sixth year Gryffindors, lessons had begun when they'd come back from the holidays. They required parent or guardian approval to be taken in sixth year which Harry had unsurprisingly, not gotten from the Dursleys. Ron had also been denied by his mother for reasons unknown to them. Hermione could have, but hadn't, taken them on her own. At the time, Harry thought she might have been taking pity on Ron, but since finding out Dumbledore had been arranging their classes to keep them together, he might have asked her to wait. Now that he thought about it, that could also very well be the reason Ron had been denied by his mother. Thinking back on the last Order meeting, Harry wondered if Dumbledore thought they would have just gone ahead and tried it on their own anyway.

"Yeah, sort of like your Occlumency with Snape. McGonagall's going to teach us, though." Ron looked infinitely relieved.

Surprised and relieved himself, Harry asked, "So are we taking 'extra Transfiguration lessons' or something?"

"Nah, we're just supposed to keep quiet about it. Make up stuff if we get asked- extra quidditch training or prefect meetings- stuff like that." Ron stood when Harry did. "She said she'd talk to you about it at the meeting today."

Harry ignored Hermione's questioning glance when they met up in the common room. He didn't expect Ginny to show. She didn't. Once seated in the Great Hall at the long table with sporadic groupings of other Gryffindors, Harry tried to shove the events of the previous night to the back of his mind. The Order meeting was soon and he had other things to worry about. Spying Ginny far down the table, sitting with a smiling Julian, was almost enough to crack his determination, but he resolutely looked away. He was glad when breakfast was over and he had an excuse to leave the castle before the Hogsmeade visit.

He walked alone to the Room of Requirement. The note Hermione had given him from McGonagall had suggested the best place to Floo to Number Twelve would be Persephone's office, but Harry didn't want to risk going down to the dungeons. In fact, his heart sped up that he'd have to face either or both of them at the meeting. Did Dumbledore know he'd quit? Had Snape figured out he and Ginny had overheard the strange argument he'd had with Persephone? He hadn't seen either of them at breakfast but that was nothing unusual. Preparing himself for an awkward Order meeting, Harry slipped into the room containing only a simple working fireplace.

The kitchen was fairly full when he sputtered out of the fireplace. Mrs. Weasley immediately rushed over to help pat the soot out of Harry's clothes. Coughing, Harry greeted the assembled Order members.

Along with Ron's mother, several other Weasleys were there: Mr. Weasley, Charlie and Bill, but not the twins. Unsurprisingly, Percy was also not present. Harry wondered if he ever reconcile with his family. With things hanging by a thread, he wished Percy would come to his senses. Kingsley was seated at the table and smiled at him. Harry didn't see Lupin right away and was about to ask where he was when he heard voices from the entryway above. Tonks' perky greeting was followed by a more indistinct rumble that Harry immediately identified as Dumbledore. Assuming Lupin had let them in, Harry sat next to Kingsley, across from Ron's parents. As Tonks. Moody, and Dumbledore came into sight on the stairs, there was another muffled conversation at the front door. By the tone, someone sounded concerned, but the door clicked shut swiftly and three sets of feet made their way down to the kitchen.

Lupin entered first, followed by McGonagall and Snape. Harry kept his eyes on the scarred kitchen table. Wondering if Hagrid was going to make it, Harry kept quiet as Dumbledore began the meeting.

"As you all know, we've begun looking into asking the Angst Lords for their assistance in fighting Voldemort's Dementor army." He paused to look to Arthur who nodded briefly, then at Tonks who nervously tapped a stack of files in front of her. "While the search for the Book of Shadows continues to be a priority, it might be best if we focused on possible allies today."

Tonks cleared her throat. "I managed to copy the files the Ministry had on them." She shuffled the folders. "There's quite a bit of information here." Murmurs broke out, but she shook her head. "But I'm still not sure this is the best course of action. Do we even know if any of them are interested?"

Mr. Weasley looked ready to answer, but Dumbledore spoke first, "Arthur will fill us in, in a moment."

"Tell us what you've got so far," Bill encouraged.

Opening the folder on top, Tonks took out a photo and lay it facing the members opposite her. "This is the man Arthur's been in contact with, Maurice Farrington."

Harry craned his neck to get a better look at the photo. A youngish Black man smirked up at him with a casually indifferent expression. Harry was surprised. He'd expected an Angst Lord to look... he didn't know what he'd expected, really. Certainly not anything as normal as the man in the photograph. More cruel, perhaps? More like the Death Eaters he'd faced? There was a certain harsh line to the man's smile and looking into his eyes, Harry shivered a bit. But there was nothing remarkable that would have told Harry this was one of the most dangerous men in the wizarding world.

Tonks scanned the file in front of her. "Maurice Wyatt Farrington, a.k.a. 'Grim', aged thirty three. Half-Muggle, both parents still alive, two brothers. Muggle father, the rest wizards. No spouse or children. Graduated from the United States Academy for Extranormal Studies at Evansville, Indiana."

Kingsley leaned over and whispered to Harry, "The Axe is a military-run school in the States. Top quality."

Tonks continued, "High scores on the Advanced Exam in sixth year granted him admission to the Elite Academy. Did an internship in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office here-" Harry wasn't the only one who glanced at Mr. Weasley, realizing where they had met. "-then was recruited by the U.S. Bureau of Mystical Registry. Later left the Spell Registry under 'unusual circumstances'." Tonks snorted softly at that note. "Legit job listed as an antiques dealer and charm professional. Current occupation stated as a free-lance 'enchantment specialist', who breaks curses and enchantments, and/or enchants objects. The only address listed is for a store called 'Timeless Treasures' in Fort Christian, Ohio, which would seem to be his base of operations. Known Angst Lord activities include the DW case, the incident on Victory Lane, and at least three patients in the permanent care ward at Mary Todd Lincoln Magical Health Care Center. Government contracts are assumed, further files labeled as Restricted Access, U.S. employees with level seven clearance only."

Harry had no idea what the last few incidents were but it sounded bad. Certainly anything leaving anyone in a permanent care wizarding hospital center couldn't be good.

"Level seven?" Kingsley exclaimed. "I thought it only went up to five!"

Tonks smiled mirthlessly. "Exactly."

Bill and Charlie were giving their father an odd look. Mr. Weasley shrugged nervously. "He's really a charming fellow. Not at all what the file makes him out as..."

Sensing Mrs. Weasley's growing irritation at her husband, Tonks clipped the picture back into Farrington's file and moved on to the next one.

"This is the supposed 'leader' of the bunch." She withdrew a picture of a pleasant looking man Harry thought resembled someone's older uncle more than a dangerous psychopath. No ruthless lines or malice showed in any part of his expression as he smiled genially up at them.

"Robert Lesse, a.k.a. 'TAG', aged forty-nine."

Examining the photo, Bill asked, "What does TAG stand for?"

"Doesn't say," Tonks replied. "Muggle-born, both parents deceased, no siblings. Married, one son, both living as Muggles. Graduated from Fulton Academy, no secondary school. Started at the Woonsocket Medical Center psych ward right out of Fulton, recruited by Mary Todd Lincoln Center Permanent Care Facility five years later. Head of the ward since seventy-nine. Address listed is the staff mailbox at MTL. Known Angst Lord activities," Tonks rifled through what looked to Harry as at least thirty pages of text, "are quite extensive. Supposedly, he's responsible for at least half of the patients in his own ward. Again, government contracts assumed, level seven clearance only."

"What does that mean, really?" Harry asked. He didn't care if it was a stupid question. "The 'level seven' thing?"

Surprisingly, Mr. Weasley was the one to answer, "I think it was mentioned before, the Angst Lords aren't a unified group. They work for anyone who will pay and even against each other." Harry knew this and so far wasn't satisfied with where the answer was going. "Well, sometimes the people who need their, um, services, are socially prominent people, or families. Government employees, too. Or even the government itself will contract one or more to, um, help. But as you can imagine, associating with individuals of their... talents is not something any elected official wants well-known. So in addition to whatever payment they receive, their activity is disavowed in any government file. Level seven clearance is a code."

Tonks and Kingsley gave him a strange look. Tonks asked, "Farrington told you that?"

"Who's next?" Mr. Weasley gestured to the remaining folders.

With a shake of the head, Tonks pulled out the next file and picture. "Arella Klee, a.k.a 'The Lady', aged twenty-seven."

The woman in the picture struck Harry as very young. He might have thought her pretty if not for the cruel twist to her smile. There was something unnerving about the way she grinned at the camera, as if she knew something they didn't.

"Muggle born," Tonks continued, "deceased father, mother still alive, one Muggle brother. No spouse, no children. Graduated MS Four, secondary was the Uncasville Institute for Medicinal Education, left with just a First Level. Got a job with Magus Therapeutics-"

"They're the ones who developed the Wolfsbane Potion! Damocles Belby is the head of Magus," Lupin broke in.

Tonks nodded, "Yep, apparently she worked on that project and cashed out when it went public. Quit Magus and went to work for The Werewolf Liberation Front as the head of their clinical lab. Only address listed is for her registered magical pets, one crup, one thestral, and a," Tonks brow furrowed, "Tennessee Fainting Goat? Address is to an abandoned vineyard in Napa Valley, California. Known Angst Lord activities include the DW case, the Halloween Massacre- obviously not you, Harry-" Tonks added quickly, "- more than a few patients in Lesse's ward, and several things noted as non-contract."

"What does that mean?" Bill asked.

"No idea," Tonks replied. "The usual government level seven, et cetera."

"How did she get into U and ME after going to an MS?" Charlie wondered aloud. He shook his head. "Wait, maybe I don't want to know."

Harry looked to Mr. Weasley. "What's an MS?"

Mrs. Weasley answered, "Well, in the States, not all magical families can afford to send their children to the boarding schools, so their magical government set up public day schools for them, free of charge."

"To be blunt Harry, those schools aren't very good," Charlie added. "The MS stands for 'Magic School' and the number refers to how old it is, and to a degree, where it is. The first public school was MS One, etcetera." He waved his hand in an 'and so on' fashion. "But Uncasville, everyone calls it 'you and me,' that's a top-notch medical program. She must be good."

Skimming into some of the details of her file Tonks grimaced. "Too good, looks like."

"Next?" McGonagall prodded, looking less than pleased with the information they'd gotten so far.

A picture of a slightly overweight young man fell on the table next. His expression was half-bored, half irritated, as if he had somewhere better to be. "Scissors MacGillicutty, a.k.a-"

"His first name is Scissors?" Charlie exclaimed.

Tonks shook her head. "Probably not, but it's the only thing listed. A.k.a 'Snips', not surprisingly, aged twenty-six. Half-Muggle, both parents still alive, no siblings. No spouse, no children. Graduated MS Two, no wizarding secondary school. Went to a Muggle university, graduated with a degree in computer programming. Works for a Muggle technologies company. According to this," she skimmed quickly, "he does 'freelance work finding information for wizards who want to know'."

"Want to know what?" Harry asked.

"Doesn't say," Tonks replied. "Something nasty, I imagine."

Frowning slightly, Mr. Weasley spoke up, "He's quite good at esoteric searches. Finding lost objects or obscure spells. Farrington has used his services often, as I understand it."

"Would he know where to find the Book of Shadows?" Kingsley asked.

"That's a good question." Mr. Weasley seemed to contemplate. "He might know something about it."

"Has You-Know-Who asked him?" Bill wondered, looking at Dumbledore.

The elder wizard seemed to think a moment. "That would be something worth finding out."

Harry caught his almost imperceptible nod to Snape, and Snape's barely noticeable acknowledgment in return.

"Listed address is a condemned warehouse in Manhattan, New York. Known Angst Lord activities include the DW file, the Oscar Crease Affair, and assumed government contracts. He's the new guy it seems, file's short. Last one." Tonks sighed.

No picture appeared. "Renfield. No alias, though that might be it. No age given. No family info, no background information. No current address or occupation listed. Known Angst Lord activities include the Twilight incident, and supposedly most of the remaining patients in Lesse's ward."

She gestured with open hands at the files. "So there you have it. Five psychopaths to aid in the fight against an army of Dementors."

McGonagall and Mrs. Weasley weren't the only Order members with dubious looks on their faces.

"Thank you, Tonks," Dumbledore said. Turning to Arthur he nodded to him. "What have you heard?"

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat and looked at the parchment in front of him. "Well, Farrington replied to the letter I sent. Sent me a package, actually, with some rather interesting, well, we'll get to that. It sounds like he at least, would be willing to aid our cause and he said he would speak to the others for us."

Harry remembered the match Portkey Ron's father had given him at the last meeting. "Did he send you the matches?"

"Yes," Mr. Weasley perked up. "He sent me a whole book of them, charmed them himself. They're special, you see- left as they are, all you have to do is imagine the place you'd like to be and they'll send you there, but without the usual Portkey time restriction. Sort of like Apparating. The one I sent to you in the note I charmed into a more regular Portkey to send you here."

"I don't like you accepting gifts from that man," Mrs. Weasley said sharply. "Bad enough he lent us that monstrosity of a car- which we would have done just as well without," she added. "I don't like being in his debt."

"I wouldn't say we were in his-" Mr. Weasley broke off and sighed. Whether they'd had this argument too many times before or he just didn't care to continue it in front of the whole Order, Harry couldn't tell.

Arthur patted his robes, searching for something. "He also sent me... where is it now?" He stood and dug around in the deep pockets known to wizarding clothing. "Aha! Here it is."

He withdrew a small silver object that drew several curious glances. Tonks wrinkled her brows and asked, "What's that?"

Leaning closer, Harry stared in confusion for a moment. "Wait, is that a mobile phone?"

Looking down at the small metal thing in his hand, Arthur replied, "Yes! At least I think that's what he called it." He chuckled. "Well, you would know, wouldn't you, Harry? In fact, Farrington said you or Hermione would probably be able to help if I ran into any trouble with it."

"What kind of trouble does he expect you to have with it?" Mrs. Weasley eyed the portable phone with suspicion.

"The same kind dad has with every other kind of Muggle stuff," Bill said with a grin.

Harry felt his own suspicion grow. "Why would he want you to have one? Will it even work with all the magic going on around here?"

Mr. Weasley pulled out a folded bit of parchment. "It should. There have been some new developments with metal alloys that are allowing some Muggle technology to work along with magic. Americans really hate to give up their gadgets, especially in mixed families. This is plated with something called Salazarium- the metal disrupts magic so the inner parts of this little device will work, supposedly even within Hogwarts. The U.S. military developed it to make armor, but while it blocks most all spells, it also won't allow the wearer's magic to work. I heard they're onto something else that'll allow one-way transmissions of magic, but I don't know much about that."

Harry was stunned. "So American wizards can use computers and other Muggle stuff and magic?"

"They do tend to be a little less strict about blurring the line between Muggles and wizards, but certain rules do still apply," Kinsgley said.

"Have you used it?' Harry nodded to the phone.

Mr. Weasley blushed a little. "Well, Farrington sent me the instructions and said he'd put some numbers in there I might want, but..."

Harry recalled his uncle and cousin's frustration at trying to set all the features on their new phones. Not to mention the endless hours of ring tone selection. "Yeah, they can be pretty complicated."

Suddenly the phone buzzed and a tune filled the room. Mr. Weasley started and dropped the phone onto the table where it continued to buzz and play its sprightly song. Everyone shifted their chairs away from the table in surprise.

"It's making noise!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed.

Recovering, Harry said, "It's ringing."

Since Mr. Weasley made no move to answer it, Harry picked it up. Flipping the phone open, he hesitantly said, "Hello?"

"Who is this?" The voice on the other end was low-pitched and pleasant, if not mildly surprised.

"Who is this?" Harry repeated, though he had a pretty good idea.

"Is Arthur Weasley there?" the voice asked.

"Whom may I say is calling?" The etiquette Aunt Petunia had drilled into him for the scarce occasions he was allowed to answer the phone on Privet Drive randomly asserted itself.

There was a slight laugh. "Farrington. Maurice Farrington. And who is this?"

"Harry Potter," for some reason Harry hastily added, "sir."

There was a definite laugh. "And how did you come by a phone that I sent to Arthur? I trust nothing untoward happened to him."

For the lack of concern in his voice, he may as well have been asking about the weather. "I... um, he was explaining how you sent him the phone."

"So he is there," the Farrington concluded. "Put him on, would you? Better yet," he said before Harry could give Mr. Weasley the phone, "put it on speaker, please. Little button on the right side."

Fiddling a bit, Harry hit the small button. "Is that it?"

"You tell me." Farrington's voice sounded clear in the room.

"Farrington?" Mr. Weasley asked hesitantly.

"Weasley!" Farrington said brightly. "Enjoying your new toy?"

Mrs. Weasley humphed loudly enough for the phone to pick it up.

"Is that Molly?" Everyone could hear the grin in the Angst Lord's voice. "Did you like the ring?"

"I don't know what he's talking about," Mrs. Weasley replied loftily, refusing to look at the phone.

Bill and Charlie didn't know what to think of their mother intentionally snubbing such a dangerous person or Farrington's obvious pleasure at niggling her about his acquaintanceship with their father.

Attempting to diffuse the situation, Arthur leaned toward the phone and, obviously not sure how it worked, said loudly, "We were just speaking about your offer of assistance with our situation."

"I can hear you just fine, old boy. No need to yell. Talking about me then, were you?" His mocking tone unnerved and annoyed Harry for some reason. It was as if he considered their war with Voldemort inconsequential or worse, a big joke.

Dumbledore indicated for Mr. Weasley to continue the conversation. Harry thought perhaps not letting the Angst Lord know how many Order members were present or who they were was a good idea as well.

"Yes, in fact we were wondering if you'd had a chance to speak to any of the others yet." Mr. Weasley still looked as if he thought he needed to be closer or talk louder for the phone to work.

"Sure," Farrington replied evenly. "Snips and TAG are in. Arella wants a timeline."

"Timeline?" Mr. Weasley repeated confusedly.

There was a faint laugh again. "She's a little... protective of her free time. If this is going to be a lengthy process, she might want to discuss alternate payment. Or she might refuse altogether."

"I don't..." Mr. Weasley looked around and shrugged. "I'm not sure we can really say how long this will take."

There was the sound of shifting on the other end of the phone. "That's what I told her. Is there a meeting outline or something? Anything to let her know how this will fit in her schedule if she agrees?"

"Well," Mr. Weasley tried to think, "I suppose if you all agree, we'd need some time for training and such. It depends on what kind of help you'll be providing. I can't imagine we'd need to actually meet all that often, though." Looking around at the other Order members they all seemed to silently agree it would be better to have as many of the Angst Lords on their side as possible. No one wanted to think about Voldemort considering contracting them as well. "I'm sure we can work something out to her satisfaction."

"That will probably be acceptable, then," Farrington agreed. "Haven't gotten a hold of Renfield yet. He's been hard to find of late."

Mr. Weasley nodded. "I see. Thank you for your help so far. When will we know for sure?"

"Hard to say," Farrington's tone was vague. "I'll talk to Arella later today. Wouldn't want to call her now, too early. Snips might have a line on Renfield. As soon as I get a definitive answer, I'll send a contract your way. You might want to find someone good to read it over first. Have fun with the toys."

There was a click and then silence.

Mr. Weasley stared at the phone for a moment and then closed it and put it in his pocket. "Well there you are, then."

Dumbledore looked pensive. "For now, I think we should continue looking into the Book and where Voldemort might be in his search. Charlie, carry on with your research with the Dementors so we have something to start with when the Angst Lords are ready to join us."

Most of the members seemed to take that as a signal the meeting was over. Everyone stood and quiet conversation broke out. Harry made his way to Dumbledore.

"Do we have any Blood of the Betrayed?" he asked without preamble. "To find the Book with dowsing?"

Dumbledore's frown did not reassure Harry at all. "We did have a small sample to work with. However, when we attempted it on a map, it did not seem to work."

"Does that mean we did it wrong or that the historian was wrong?" Harry asked.

"That is the question," Dumbledore replied with a sad smile.

A thought struck Harry and he looked to Mr. Weasley. "Would Farrington know?"

"About Blood of the Betrayed or how to use it?" Mr. Weasley shrugged. "I have no idea."

"Call him and find out," Harry insisted. When Mr. Weasley made no move to do so, Harry held his hand out for the phone. "I'll do it."

The rest of the Order was watching him with mixed expressions of amusement and suspicion. Harry ignored them and tried to find the numbers stored in the phone to call the Angst Lord. Finding it, he didn't allow himself time to think about what he was doing and hit 'send'.

"Arthur, problem?" Farrington picked up on the second ring.

Swallowing his sudden nervousness, Harry said, "It's actually Harry Potter, sir. I- we- had a question."

"I'm sure you have many," Farrington said easily.

"I've heard you're an expert about magical objects and things." Harry hoped mild flattery would be helpful. "Do you know anything about Blood of the Betrayed?"

"I know a bit. What do you want to know?" Farrington sounded at least slightly interested.

Deciding how much he should tell him was difficult and Harry didn't have time to be prudent. "We were trying to find something by dowsing with it and a map but it didn't work."

"Not surprising," Farrington replied. "What were you looking for?"

Harry hesitated. He looked from Mr. Weasley to Dumbledore. Dumbledore indicated he should tell Farrington whatever he needed to know.

"The Book of Shadows," Harry said, wincing and hoping he hadn't just made a huge mistake.

"Hmmm." The Angst Lord didn't seem surprised at all. "Where'd you get the Blood?"

Harry put his hand over the mouthpiece and asked, "He wants to know where we got the Blood of the Betrayed."

"Actually," Farrington, continued before any of the Order could reply, "the real question is, can you trace the source?"

Harry repeated the new question and was met with shakes of the head. "No, I don't think we know who gave it."

"That's the problem then." Farrington sighed. "Don't know a whole lot about the Book, but dowsing with Blood of the Betrayed, or any magically derived blood for that matter, usually only works when it's from a pure source."

"Pure?" Harry repeated.

"Virgin," Farrington clarified. "Odd quirk of old magic. Anything else?"

"No, I don't think so," Harry said. "Thank you."

He closed the phone and gave it back to Mr. Weasley. "He said dowsing only works with magical blood that came from a virgin."

With everyone staring at him, Harry fought a blush and lost.

"How are we going to find that?" Bill asked.

"Maybe MacGillicutty will know," Tonks suggested.

Though he knew his friends were waiting for him to come back to visit Hogsmeade, Harry sighed and sat at the table. Staring blankly at the boiler room door, he almost didn't hear when Lupin came back down the stairs.

"I thought you'd be off to Hogsmeade by now," Lupin said, pouring himself another cup of tea.

Harry didn't answer. When he looked up, it was clear he hadn't heard what Lupin had said. "You don't think a shop on Knockturn Alley would have it, do you?"

Lupin paused. "I'm sure Dumbledore is looking into places to find Blood of the Betrayed, Harry. Why don't you forget about it for now and go to Hogsmeade with your friends?"

He knew Lupin was just trying to help, and a part of him wanted to forget the whole mess, but he couldn't. That, and he wasn't sure he wanted to run into Ginny in Hogsmeade with her friends or worse yet, with Julian.

"Something wrong, Harry?" Lupin asked.

Everything, Harry thought. "No, just tried of it all, I suppose. Maybe you're right," he stood, "I should go to Hogsmeade." He spotted the door again. "Maybe I'll get Kreacher a new book."

Raising his eyebrows, Lupin stood as well, intending to clean up the various teacups and spoons scattered about the table. "That would be kind of you."

Harry opened the door to the tiny room and spotted Kreacher huddled under the boiler on his cushion. He had been looking through the large garden book Ginny had given him and clutched it tightly to his chest when he saw Harry peering at him.

"Would you like another one?" Harry pointed at the book.

Eying him suspiciously, Kreacher seemed to consider for a long time. Harry wondered if he thought it might be a trick of some sort. Finally, he said, "Yes."

Nodding, Harry closed the door with click. He suddenly felt restless and the urge to get out nearly overwhelmed him. Bidding Lupin goodbye, he stepped into the green flames. He sensed the answer was right in front of them, but he couldn't see it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ginny was heading for the Great Hall and eventually down to Hogsmeade. She'd brushed off her friends' invitation to go down with them earlier in the day, but had said she'd meet them at the Three Broomsticks in the afternoon. She'd spent the morning wandering the hallways trying to sort out her thoughts but unable to focus long enough on any of them to get very far. Figuring it was close enough to afternoon and she could always wander around the shops until she ran into Julian and the others, Ginny sighed and kept walking. Two hallways from the grand staircase, a voice halted her.

"Ginny!"

Turning she saw Harry jogging to catch up with her. "Headed down to Hogsmeade?"

Nodding, she replied, "Yeah. You?"

"Yeah, in a bit," he replied.

Wondering why Harry was acting like nothing had happened at all in the dungeons, she frowned. Inwardly shrugging, she decided two could play that game. "Where are Hermione and Ron?"

A look of surprise flickered in Harry's expression but it was so fast, Ginny thought she might have imagined it. "Oh, I said I'd catch up to them. I wanted to ask you something first."

Unsure, Ginny didn't want to hope and so, said cautiously, "Okay. What is it?"

Glancing around, Harry pulled her behind a suit of armor. Dropping his voice he said, "You know we need Blood of the Betrayed, right?"

Hiding the surge of disappointment she felt, she looked down and nodded.

"I think you might be able to give it to us."

Ginny's head snapped up. "Me? Why me?"

"Well, after the-" he stopped suddenly and cleared his throat, "-the Chamber of Secrets, I think you could be a donor. If you're willing, that is."

Ginny chewed her lip and stared at the floor. It was true; her blood might count after what had happened. "I suppose."

"So you'll do it? I knew it!" Harry grinned. "All right, come with me and-"

Confused by his reaction, Ginny hesitated. "Wait! You mean now? I don't... I don't know."

Harry's expression darkened. "Ginny, you know we don't have a lot of time." He glanced at his watch and seemed to grow more agitated. "Don't you want to help me?"

Torn, Ginny said, "Yes, but... now?"

"It won't take long, Ginny, I promise," Harry said encouragingly.

"How do we know it'll even work?" Ginny asked. "What if I don't have it? I'm not sure I want to..."

Frustration colored Harry's face. "Then it won't work anyway. You have to be willing." Seeing Ginny's recoil from his burst of annoyance, he sighed and said, "I'm sorry, it's not you. It's just... you know how important this is."

"I know-"

"Wait!" Harry interrupted her. "What if you just gave a little bit now? Just a few drops, a pinprick. Then we could see if it is Blood of the Betrayed and then we could get more if we needed it later."

"I guess that would be okay," Ginny agreed reluctantly.

Peering around the armor, Harry said, "There, we can sneak into that closet."

Once inside the small broom closet, Ginny sat on an overturned bucket. Harry handed her a small glass vial, not unlike the ones they used to put samples of their Potions assignments in.

Seeing her expression, Harry assured her, "You don't have to fill it. Just a little bit will be enough to start with."

Taking the vial, she asked, "How do I-"

"Here." Harry handed her a small dagger-like knife.

"Where did you get that?" Ginny asked in surprise.

"Oh, I um, bought it," Harry said quickly.

Frowning, she asked, "How did you know I'd agree?"

A soft smile crossed Harry's face. "You've always been there for me."

Ginny hesitated only a second longer, then taking a deep breath, nicked the tip of one finger, hissing slightly at the brief, sharp pain. A drop of bright red blood welled up. She stared at it for a moment as it grew and started to drip down her finger.

"Don't waste it!" Harry almost shouted, startling her. "I mean, I don't want you to have cut yourself for nothing."

Ginny held her finger over the mouth of the small bottle and watched as a few drops splashed onto the bottom. When there was enough to just coat the base, she withdrew her finger and stuck it in her mouth.

Harry took the vial from her and stoppered it. "Thanks, Ginny." He smiled. "I knew I could count on you."

When he turned to leave, she stood. "Wait, that's it?"

Turning back to her, Harry looked a bit confused. "Oh, well... I thought I ought to get this to..."

"Dumbledore?" Ginny supplied, trying to make herself feel better. "Yeah, you're right."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Don't want to keep him waiting. Thanks."

Leaving the broom closet alone, Ginny decided maybe she didn't want to go to the Three Broomsticks after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Harry, Ron, and Hermione returned from Hogsmeade that evening, they weren't in as good of spirits as the rest of Gryffindor. Harry had filled Ron and Hermione in about the Angst Lords. He thought they looked about as enthusiastic as Mrs. Weasley at the prospect of having anything to do with them. Ron at least, tried to argue that if they could somehow assure their temporary loyalty at least, they would make for some very useful allies. Hermione wondered how transient their help would be, if one or more weren't already working for Voldemort. No one seemed to know much about the logistics of a contract with an Angst Lord and if he were honest about it, Harry wasn't sure he wanted to know.

They'd tried to set aside the worrisome thoughts and enjoy the outing, but apart from the gardening books Harry bought in Flourish and Blotts and the box of chocolates Hermione bought in Honeydukes, they hadn't done much shopping. Even Ron had shrugged off Quality Quidditch stating he already had the best thing in the store. In truth, they'd sat in the Three Broomsticks for some time, contemplating what had transpired there, or more exactly, in the alley behind the pub. Even spotting Julian and his group laughing at another table wasn't enough to distract Harry. Unsurprisingly, they'd found out nothing more about what had happened to Dunn in the tavern. There was no gossip to overhear of any interest to them. Obviously, the townspeople had been asked not to reveal what had really happened to the students who breezed through. Harry wondered how everyone could ignore Madame Rosmerta's distinct pallor and obvious deviation from her usual sunny demeanor.

Before they'd headed back to the castle, Harry found himself wandering down the long main road to stand at the dilapidated fence surrounding the Shrieking Shack. Staring at the run-down building, Harry's thoughts strayed to Blood of the Betrayed and the Book. How much did Voldemort know? How much closer was he to finding it? Somehow, Harry felt having the answers would be almost as terrifying as not knowing. Hermione had lingered a moment longer when the boys turned to leave. When Ron asked what had caught her attention she shrugged it off, saying she thought she had seen something in the window but decided it was no more than the reflection of a bird flying overhead.

Once they were back at the castle, Harry waved off dinner, too lost in thought and worry to feel hungry. Hermione was right, what if some of the Angst Lords were already working for Voldemort? MacGillicutty or Farrington might have already found the kind of Blood of the Betrayed necessary to dowse the Book's location. Farrington hadn't sounded surprised when Harry had asked about it. Could they be on their way to the Book this very minute? What would happen if they did find it?

Other troublesome thoughts quickly followed. Had Voldemort found the other historian? What did they know the Order didn't? Surely Voldemort wanted to become the next Guardian to gain the supposed immortality of the bind, but would it truly help him? Would it make him more powerful? Harry and his friends had stopped searching for what spells the Book might contain, but might it be filled with spells too powerful and horrific for them to imagine? Or would Voldemort find the Book and have nothing without knowing who the Guardian was?

Unanswered questions swirled about in Harry's head. His frenzied pacing across the dormitory floor was interrupted by Ron's sudden arrival.

"You're going to wear a hole in the floor, mate," Ron said jokingly, though the concern on his face was evident. He held out something wrapped in a napkin. "Brought you a sandwich."

Harry took it absently, waving it as he paced. "What happens if Voldemort gets the Book first? Does it say who the Guardian is? How will he know how to take over? And what'll happen after that? Will it really make a difference? I mean, so what if he's the new Guardian? Vampires can be killed. There's got to be more to all this than we've been seeing."

Ron ducked as a piece of tomato flew out of the napkin and sailed over his head. "I don't know. Wouldn't you be better off asking Dumbledore?"

"That's just it," Harry said, plopping down on his bed and finally taking notice of the mangled sandwich in his hand. "I'm not sure any of them know, either. I'm not sure I even know what questions to ask. What do we do if we find it first? Hide it?"

Ron sat next to him and thought. "We should get Hermione up here. She might have some ideas."

Harry frowned and picked the cheese off the sandwich. Chewing silently for a moment, he stood and put the rest of the sandwich on the nightstand by his bed. "I have a better idea. Let's go to the Room of Requirement. Whatever ideas Hermione has are bound to involve looking something up so we may as well be somewhere where we can. And where no one will interrupt us."

Harry knew he had to organize his thoughts before he could talk to anyone in the Order. After he figured out what the exact purpose of finding the Book was, for either side, he could move on to figuring out how to find it and what to do once they did. The brief idea Dumbledore might already have a plan in motion covering all of these problems did not reassure Harry enough to want to talk to him first. Even without knowing the prophecy, Harry instinctively knew this race would ultimately boil down to him and Voldemort alone. He wanted to be as prepared on his own as possible.

Hermione was not in the common room when the descended the stairs. Ron's immediate suggestion of the library was unnecessary and they did indeed find her among the stacks. Seeing their expressions, she gathered her things and followed without question. She asked if they had thought to include Ginny and Harry fought to conceal the awkward feelings her comment had stirred. He didn't remember seeing her in the common room, so they searched the library before giving up and heading to the Room of Requirement without her.

As they entered the secret room, a sudden urgency to solve the mysteries surrounding the Book seized Harry. He wasn't sure how he knew so definitively, but they were running out of time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She came to consciousness slowly and incompletely. Senses deadened from the ill-made Sleeping Draught, she barely caught the silent, fluid movement of an ashwinder gliding by. Its glittering ruby eyes met hers for a second before it moved on and she sank back into the blackness.