Harry Potter and the Book of Shadows

In The Library

"Stay here, Harry," Dumbledore said, turning toward the fire that had burned down to embers in the kitchen fireplace. Kindling the meager glow back into life with a few sticks of wood from the pile by the hearth, Dumbledore paused as he threw a pinch of Floo powder into the dancing flames. "I know you have much to tell, Harry, but I must see to the others first. Stay and rest, I will return shortly."

His mind still swirling in confusion, Harry had no strength to argue. Glancing around the familiar room blankly, he couldn't even summon the energy to feel resentful that he'd been closeted away from everyone again. Lungs burning and eyes still watering, he had the oddest sensation that the stone kitchen floor was awfully close before he felt the wind knocked out of him and the room went black.

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

Kreacher had been gazing at the pretty pictures in his new garden book when he heard a commotion in the kitchen. Resentful his peace had been disturbed yet again, he cautiously peeked out the boiler room door. Seeing the wizard his former family had hated so sweep into the kitchen, he retreated slightly, though he still watched suspiciously through the crack. That boy, his new master, smelling of ash and smoke, was also there looking vacantly around as though lost.

Something interesting had happened, no doubt. Not that it truly interested Kreacher. His long confinement over the past year had taught him he rather liked staying in his cozy nest of blankets and having edible food appear at regular intervals. Even through all the years the house had been empty, he'd been obliged to muddle through cleaning as best as his ancient body could. Then, when the other Master had arrived, he'd been rudely chased from room to room, treated once again as little better than a slimy insect, given contradicting orders that left him confused and irritable. Of course he'd used an opportunity to end his torment, though if he chose to think about it, it was perhaps not the best decision he could have made. Not that he ever did think about it.

Instead, he looked through the lovely picture books the intruders had given him, recalling the golden days when he'd been allowed out in the gardens, and felt a glimmer of remembered happiness. His former mistress might have been as cruel and incongruous as his last Master, but she had allowed him the gardens. Even without the ingrained loyalty of generations bred into him, that reason alone would have won his devotion.

Knowing he would not be summoned, Kreacher took a slow step backward, one eye still on the scene in the kitchen. The old wizard disappeared through green flames, leaving the new Master where he was, still wheezing and bewildered. Just as he was about to turn away, Kreacher saw the boy crumple to the ground in an inelegant heap.

Debating for a moment, Kreacher made a decision and opened the boiler room door.

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

Clutching the gory Book in his hands, Lucius Malfoy suppressed a triumphant smile as he waited just outside the scarred wooden door. It was he who held the sought-after prize, he would present it to the Dark Lord, and he who would once again be the most trusted, and therefore most favored, of his followers. Added to the pride that still sang from the knowledge that his son had presented the key to finding it, unaided no less, Lucius was indeed having a difficult time concealing his excitement.

Even so, he did school his features into a carefully arranged mask of indifference when the door finally opened, admitting him into the dimly lit room. Reining in his emotions, he willed his mind blank and quiet as he faced the Dark Lord.

Voldemort did not give the impression of any emotion at all as he watched Lucius enter the room. Wormtail had arrived well before, screeching intolerably about Lucius' usurpment of the mission. One of the other Death Eaters had taken his painfully quivering form away mere moments before word arrived Lucius had returned, apparently with said prize.

"I have brought the Book, my lord," Lucius said, his voice calm and even.

"So it would appear." The Dark Lord made no move to take it.

There was an eternal second when neither moved. Almost reluctantly, Lucius set the Book on the stained wooden table that separated him from his master. Seating himself in the worn chair in front of the fire, facing the Book, Voldemort placed one skeletal hand upon it.

Lucius breathed deeply and evenly, unwilling to risk his tenuous position by rushing the Dark Lord into confirming he had in fact, found the lost and legendary Book of Shadows. It was an accomplishment to be lauded in the eyes of more than just his master, though Lucius gladly gave him the sole right to bestow admiration for the deed. The reward that was rightly his would be given. Patience was all he needed.

"It surprises me that you are the one to bring this..." Voldemort allowed himself a slow glance at the softly glowing white cover. "...gift."

Seeing an opportunity, Lucius replied without emotion, "It would seem my family has once again proven how resourceful it can be."

The Dark Lord well understood the subtler meaning to Lucius' words. "So it would seem. Wormtail did mention Draco was the one who provided the proper type of Blood."

Lucius' self-satisfaction blinded him to the slight curl of his master's lip. It would have reminded him he had failed numerous times to provide the necessary component to dowsing the Book of Shadows' location himself.

Bearing Voldemort's long and assessing look cost Lucius little effort. He was supremely sure he would be rewarded in due time. Their ascent to power was assured now they were in possession of the Book. A flicker of annoyance tripped through his mind that the Dark Lord hadn't so much as opened it to begin delving into its power. Surely they should strike quickly to ensure a swift and total victory. Voldemort sensed his follower's brief irritation. With a deliberate and leisurely hand, he opened the Book.

The pages were smeared with crimson blood and for a brief second, Lucius thought he ought to have cleaned the Book before handing it over. As Voldemort wiped at the stains, he reconsidered, thinking perhaps it best it was obvious he hadn't attempted to glean his own knowledge before yielding it.

"Wormtail was most upset you were the one to claim the Book first," Voldemort commented.

Lucius' smile grew brittle. "Perhaps he should have been more..." He paused. "...thorough, in his efforts, then."

"Perhaps," Voldemort agreed, the tiniest hint of displeasure creeping over his expressionless face as he turned yet another page.

Lucius dared to glance at the soiled pages, wondering what could have caused the change. Fear curled in the back of his mind as he saw beneath the smudges of blood, the pages appeared blank.

"It would seem there is a problem." Voldemort's voice was a low hiss as he pushed the ancient Book toward Lucius.

Clamping down his rising panic, Lucius stuttered, "I don't... I don't understand. The dowsing said the Book was there. Its appearance is exactly as-"

"Appearances--" Voldemort slammed the cover shut. "--can be deceiving." Pulling something from a pocket of his robes, he gave Lucius an assessing glance. "There is one way to tell."

Malfoy recognized the Book fragment they had recovered from the Dark Arts professor. If it matched a missing page in the Book, it might absolve him. Painfully slowly, Voldemort examined each page of the tome, looking for a torn page. Before he even reached the end of the gory, empty pages, Lucius knew the fragment had not come from that book.

"Perhaps the fragment is fake?" Lucius conjectured desperately, though it seemed unlikely the scrap that did bear writing was a forgery while the vast, empty pages were real. Frantically he thought of reasons the Book might be blank. "It could be only the Guardian can read the Book. Or a particular spell is required to bring the writing to light."

This gave Voldemort pause. "Valid points. But it still does not explain why the fragment does not match. We need to look further into this new development. Your son may yet again have the opportunity to prove his worthiness."

Seeing an opportunity, Lucius stood a bit straighter. "I assure you he would perform any task set to him with most careful attention."

"Unlike his father?" The cold smile had returned. "I will see to it. Leave me."

Though his conjectures had not been dismissed, Lucius knew his life and position, and that of his entire family, dangled by a thread. Concealing his fear, he swept out of the room.

Voldemort caught the eye of the Death Eater standing just outside the door. "Send Wormtail in."

With a nod, the man left and within moments, returned, shoving a trembling Wormtail into the room.

Ignoring his subordinate's quaking, Voldemort said crisply, "There's someone I want found."

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

Confusion drove Harry's thoughts though his mind in dark and frightening swirls. Horrible shrieks and blazing fire sparked panic, though some part of him knew the people he saw trapped behind rippled, melting glass did not belong there. Green fire mixed with dancing yellow as Harry ran from room to room trying to save his friends from the deadly, choking flames.

Suddenly, he burst through a door to see a room, and in the center, a glowing white book holding the thick, swirling smoke at bay. Others appeared in the room- Persephone lunging for the Book, just snatching it out of Voldemort's grasp. As the Dark Lord transformed into Lucius Malfoy, he saw Persephone drop the tome as Snape dragged her toward a wall of swirling smoke. Snape yelled something he didn't understand, then fled the room as Lucius pinned Harry with a triumphant smile and disappeared with the Book.

Alone, and without the Book to shield him, Harry felt the heat of the flames close in as the choking smoke billowed around him, drowning out the sound of screams.

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

Painfully, Snape made his way past the sentries standing guard outside the crumbling granite structure that served as Voldemort's most current hiding place. The ancient castle had long ago been abandoned and forgotten, though traces of magic still lingered in the earth and air surrounding the unstable stones. Made reasonably comfortable by low-ranking followers eager to prove their worthiness, the cold drafts dissipated the closer Snape drew to Voldemort's chamber.

There was no guard outside the door, for which Snape was grateful. It gave him time to school his thoughts back into the careful compartments that had kept him sane and hidden from the Dark Lord. A flash of pain behind his eyes made the effort agonizing, bringing back memories of how the struggle to learn Occlumency in his youth had left him with migraines for days on end. Pure will and the knowledge that anything but an impervious wall to his innermost thoughts would lead to not only his demise, but the torture and deaths of many others, Snape calmed his breathing and knocked softly on the pockmarked door.

"You know why I called you." Voldemort's reedy voice held no hint of question as Snape entered.

Expressionless, Snape replied, "I do not."

There was no fawning attitude, no oily protest that he could not possibly know his Master's mind, like that of his most trusted servant, nor was there the barely concealed arrogance of his other ranking follower. Voldemort considered the man in front of him for a moment. The calm indifference shielded a careful intellect and ambitious nature, but the Dark Lord had never seen Snape step outside a vigilantly maintained course. It was for this reason he did not trust his spy fully. At no time had Snape given any sign he was anything less than loyal, but at the same time, at no time did he overextend himself to further his Master's grand plan. Every task was performed to exacting and perfected standards, with no hint of betrayal, but that in itself made Voldemort wary. One with such complete control over himself made an ideal mole to infiltrate the Order, headed by an excellent Occlumens such as Dumbledore, but it also made him resistant to Voldemort's control. The very traits Voldemort prized in his spy made him doubly suspicious of his loyalty.

Voldemort's hand drifted over the bloodstained book lying haphazardly on his desk. Snape's eyes flicked to it, then back to Voldemort.

"The Book of Shadows," the Dark Lord stated. He sat behind the desk, tenting his fingers. "Or so we were led to believe."

"It is not, then?" Snape allowed a hint of surprise to flit across his face.

Flipping the cover open, Voldemort gestured to the pages within, blank save for the odd drip and smear of blood that stained the pages here and there.

"I see," Snape said. "What would you have me do?"

The subtleness of the comment almost escaped Voldemort's notice, but his thin slash of a mouth curved into a mockery of a smile. "Yes, what to do?" Closing the Book, he pinned Snape with his reptilian gaze. "An important question. But first, I would know why you were there when the Book was recovered. Malfoy learned from his son the location and stumbled upon Wormtail's attempt at retrieval, but I cannot imagine how you came across such information."

Snape kept his surprise hidden. Lucius had obviously not told the Dark Lord of his failed attempt to extract Blood of the Betrayed from Persephone. Finding out why would be a task for later. For now, he concealed his relief at the knowledge Voldemort seemed to be unaware of who exactly had been in the Shrieking Shack when the Book was discovered.

"I overheard Draco planning his trickery of the Weasley girl. After he managed to get the sample, I followed him to an empty classroom where he dowsed the Book's location using maps from the Hogwarts library. I was unwilling to interrupt since there was a chance he would be successful. And he was..." Snape glanced at the Book on the desk. "...to a degree. I followed him to the Shrieking Shack after he used the Floo network to tell you of his plan."

"Such initiative," Voldemort commented.

The barest of shrugs was Snape's reply. "Either I would be of assistance upon arriving or not. When the Potter boy showed up-"

"Potter was there?" Angrily, Voldemort half-rose out of his chair.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Lucius did not tell you? Yes, he and his ineffectual little band were as interfering as usual, but Malfoy and Wormtail managed to fend well enough."

"One would hope," Voldemort said icily, thinking of the past times he'd been outmaneuvered by Potter's ragtag group. "What of you?"

"I did my best to mislead and distract the Order when they showed up so that Malfoy could abscond with the Book," he answered evenly.

Sitting back in his chair, Voldemort frowned. "So Dumbledore's misfits learned of this plan as well."

"I would assume Potter sent word before foolishly rushing in himself," Snape suggested.

A vague noise was his only reply. "Why did no one think to take Potter captive?"

"A fire started somewhere in the attics," Snape began, "possibly from one left untended or an ashwinder nest. The Shrieking Shack is in some disrepair. Once we had possession of the Book, any secondary actions seemed unwise."

There was a long silence. "Draco needs to learn discretion. There are several ways Potter and Dumbledore might have discovered either the Book's location or our plan, but Draco's indiscreet pride in his accomplishments is the likely cause." His cold eyes boring into Snape's, he said, "You will teach the boy control. It is a failing that seems to taint his bloodline."

Inclining his head in acceptance, Snape took a small step back, thinking he had been dismissed.

"You will also oversee a task I intend to set to the boy," Voldmeort said after a long pause.

"Would that not be better accomplished by his father?" Snape asked.

The Dark Lord rose and turned to the long window behind him in an obvious act of dismissal. Without further question, Snape left the dilapidated castle, not allowing relief to sweep through him until he was safely back within the confines of Hogwarts.

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

Something cold and wet trickling down his neck brought Harry back to consciousness with a start. Memories rushed back, making him sit up in alarm, dislodging the wet cloth that had been the source of the icy drip. It made a squelching plop noise as it landed on the floor, causing Harry to look down in confusion. To his surprise, Kreacher was sprawled on his back next to the wet cloth, looking as though he had been knocked over, which Harry supposed, he might have been by the sudden movement. Though, as he thought about it more, he couldn't imagine why Kreacher would have been hovering over him. Or better yet, why he was lying on the floor in the first place.

Harry opened his mouth to demand answers to the questions that had followed consciousness and fell into another fit of coughing. As he tried to catch his breath, a wave of dizziness swept over him, explaining his position on the floor.

"Master should lie back down," Kreacher suggested.

Still coughing, Harry sputtered out, "What?"

"Master should-" the ancient house-elf began.

"No. I mean," Harry coughed again, "what are you doing?"

Kreacher suddenly looked uncertain. "Kreacher was..." he trailed off. Knowing Harry would eventually force it out of him, he muttered, "Kreacher was helping."

Having caught his breath finally, Harry looked at Kreacher dubiously. He couldn't fathom why the hateful servant would do anything remotely useful. What could he possibly gain? Had he run off while Harry was unconscious and been to see the Death Eaters again? "Helping? Why?"

For the first time, Harry saw an expression other than resentful malevolence cross the house-elf's face. The brief flicker of hope was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by Kreacher's usual surly glower, but Harry had seen it. Caught off guard by the idea Kreacher might have warmed up to him for some reason, Harry forgot he'd even asked a question.

Kreacher fought the urge to blurt out the answer, a compulsion he'd learned to resist in the years he'd been left alone in an empty house. Still, generations of breeding and the beginnings of trust he felt in his new master made it difficult. He glanced toward the boiler room. Revealing why he'd decided to try to obey his new master more willingly might ruin his comfortable situation. Admitting to himself the others who invaded the house thought highly of the boy only added to Kreacher's internal struggle. He feared revealing his longings would be used as a weapon against him. The new master had given him back his gardens. Perhaps only in picture form, but it was better than the banishment to the dusty attics he'd suffered before. His former mistress had not been above threatening to destroy the gardens when Kreacher disobeyed or, more often, made mistakes.

He had to answer, but how much to reveal? Some part of Kreacher knew his time was coming to an end. If there was a slight chance he could see a real garden again...

"Master has given Kreacher back his gardens."

Harry stared blankly. "Gardens?"

Shuffling back to his nest of blankets, Kreacher retrieved the large picture book of cottage gardens. "Kreacher's mistress had sometimes let Kreacher in the gardens."

Not expecting this bizarre turn of events, Harry merely nodded when Kreacher held open the book to a favored two-page layout of a mossy green garden full of brightly colored flowers.

Harry didn't have to attempt to make sense of the odd turn the conversation had taken as the fire flared bright green, admitting Dumbledore into the cozy kitchen. Without another word, Kreacher scurried back to his nest under the boiler, closing the door behind him.

Seeing Harry on the floor, Dumbledore's expression was concerned. "Are you all right?"

Standing, Harry nodded then fell into another coughing fit. Urging Harry to the long kitchen table and into a chair, Dumbledore removed a glass vial from his robes and placed it in front of Harry. "That should help, I think."

The liquid trailed a soothing coolness down Harry's throat, calming the urge to cough. For the first time since he'd dragged Ginny out of the burning shack, Harry managed a deep breath. He let it out in a whoosh when re realized he didn't know anything about his friends. It had looked like they'd all made it out, but were they safe?

"The others," Harry said in a rush. "Are they all right? Hermione? Ron?"

"They are all fine," Dumbledore assured him. "Madame Pomfrey has everything well in hand."

"What about Snape?" He'd allowed, even encouraged, Lucius Malfoy to take the Book of Shadows. Had Dumbledore heard when Harry had tried to tell him outside the house? "He let Lucius Malfoy take the Book."

"Ah, yes." Dumbledore sat back with a pensive look on his face. "The Book."

Confused by this blasé response, Harry sat up in anger. "Don't you care?"

Dumbledore leveled a reproving gaze at Harry. As Harry settled back, chastised, Dumbledore tented his fingers. "Professor Snape informed me that the Book found in the Shrieking Shack might not have been the actual Book of Shadows."

To Harry, who had read the descriptions and seen with his own eyes the softly glowing book with the bloodstained runes carved into it, this seemed like a weak excuse made up by a Death Eater spy. The expression on his face spoke volumes.

Dumbledore sighed. "Voldemort himself doubts the authenticity of the Book that was found. As we feared, they have the Book fragment stolen from Professor Dunn. The Book from the Shrieking Shack has no torn pages."

This was news to Harry. Still, that didn't prove Snape wasn't lying. "The fragment may be fake."

"The Book is also blank," Dumbledore added.

"Maybe you can't read it if you're not the Guardian," Harry suggested. Something occurred to him. "Wait, how do you know all this when Lucius stole the Book?"

"All points Professor Snape made to Lord Voldemort." Ignoring Harry's incredulous look, he went on, "I only spoke with him briefly, wanting to get back to you quickly."

"Snape went to Voldemort after he got out of the Shrieking Shack?" Harry exclaimed. Remembering Persephone's still form, Harry's brow furrowed. "Wait, what about Persephone? She-"

"Madame Pomfrey assures me everyone will be fine with a bit of rest," Dumbledore assured him.

He wasn't sure how it was possible, but Harry knew Dumbledore wouldn't lie to him or hide the truth. Shoving the thoughts aside, he focused on the bigger issue. "But the dowsing said the Book would be there."

"Dowsing is not a definitive thing," Dumbledore reminded him. "How exactly did you discover the Book's location?" Harry recounted how they had used Ginny's blood and the maps to narrow down the search. Dumbledore 'hmmed'. "It would make sense it would lead you to the same place if both samples came from Ms. Weasley."

"So we may have dowsed the wrong location?" Harry asked. "But then why did the Book look so much like what it was supposed to?"

"A truly brilliant question," Dumbledore conceded. "What other locations did you see when you used the maps?"

Thinking back, Harry grimaced. "There were thousands of dots. There were a few other very bright ones, one was in Romania." Knowing Dunn's vampire theory, Harry had a sinking feeling the actual Book might still be well within reach for Voldemort. "Do you think the Shrieking Shack Book was a decoy?"

"That is a possibility," Dumbledore agreed.

"Then the other dots might be too," Harry said hopefully. "After all, the notes we had might not be right. Maybe we still don't know how to find the Book." His mind racing, Harry went on, "Professor Dunn had a theory-" Harry looked up, he hadn't gotten a chance to tell the Order what Dunn had told them or what had been in the notes. "We need to have an Order meeting. Professor Dunn had a lot of information about the Book, and I still have a copy of his notes. Have you found his friend yet? The one the notes came from?"

There was a peculiar expression on Dumbledore's face that made Harry pause. Suddenly, he flushed, thinking he'd been babbling on when Dumbledore had likely thought of all that already and set things in motion.

"Ron has already given us the copies, and the Order is gathering as we speak to assess them," Dumbledore said, confirming Harry's thoughts. Yet the peculiar expression remained.

Harry looked around instinctively. "Are they coming soon?"

Shaking his head, Dumbledore said, "Not here." To Harry's inquisitive gaze, he replied, "When we do arrange an in-person meeting with the Angst Lords, we will need another secure location. Tonks was working on finalizing the defense spells when we sent word out. It seemed a good a time as any to make sure the new site was well protected."

"Are we going there?" Harry asked, preparing himself to be left behind.

"If you feel you're recovered enough," Dumbledore replied.

Hiding his surprise, Harry stood. "Let's go."

"Harry! You're back!" Hermione's enthusiastic hug met him as he walked through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room.

"So what happened?" Ron didn't even give Harry a chance to answer before pelting him with more questions. "Why'd they take you off? Something they don't want us to know? Did you find the Book before the Shack went up?"

Glancing around, Harry asked, "Where's Ginny?" Horrible thoughts filled his mind. "She's not still in the hospital wing, is she?"

Hermione's smile was reassuring, if not a bit curious. "No. She went up to get some notes to look at until you came back. Didn't anyone let you know we were all fine?"

The look on her and Ron's faces made Harry think the actual question was: had he asked before now? Shoving aside his annoyance at the idea, he replied, "Well yeah, but I'm happy to see for myself."

The relief on his face at seeing them that still lingered must have been evident, as they both had the grace to look a bit sheepish.

Urging his friends to the unpopular drafty corner by the window, Harry dropped his voice. "They're not sure it was the real Book."

Harry imagined he'd had the same look when Dumbledore had told him what Snape had said. He recounted everything they'd discussed at the meeting, including Snape's report from his discussion with Voldemort. Hermione looked pensive, but Ron looked unconvinced.

"So Snape went to see You-Know, I mean-" Ron corrected himself at Harry's look, "-Voldemort, right after?"

"Yeah," Harry replied. "Or really, that's what Dumbledore said. Snape wasn't at the meeting. What?" Ron and Hermione had exchanged a funny look Harry didn't understand.

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, and then closed it again. After a moment she said, "It's just surprising he went anywhere, quite frankly. After Dumbledore took you to-"

"Grimmauld Place," Harry interjected, having skipped over his isolated sojourn before the meeting.

Hermione's eyebrows creased, but she went on, "Well, Lupin and Tonks got us back to the Hogwarts gate, but Professor Snape and Persephone..."

Harry looked to Ron when Hermione trailed off. Ron shrugged and said, "To be honest I didn't think they'd made it, mate." He glanced at Hermione again. "We saw Hagrid bring them in to the hospital wing. Neither of them looked good. Madame Pomfrey said they'd be fine, though." Ron's doubtful expression mimicked Harry's.

"If he went off to report to You-Know-Who, then she must have been right," Hermione said with a shrug.

Harry decided to tell them what he'd seen in the Shrieking Shack, ending with Snape all but giving Lucius Malfoy the Book. When he'd finished, both Ron and Hermione looked stunned. Hermione recovered first.

"But she's not dead," she stated bluntly. Before Harry could interrupt, she shook her head and continued, "I saw her talking to Madame Pomfrey. She kept trying to get up but Madame Pomfrey wouldn't let her leave."

Ron looked at Harry. "Maybe she was trying to follow Snape."

"But I saw Lucius hit her dead-on with the Killing Curse." Harry winced at his unintentional pun.

Shaking her head, Hermione said, "No, you saw him hit the book she was holding. It won't go through objects. And even if it wasn't the actual Book, it may have been a magical item of some kind. Who knows what effect it had on the curse." Exhaling, she added, "Whatever the case, I know Lucius didn't kill her."

More confused than ever, Harry waved his hand as if to clear the uncertainty from his head. "The Order is looking for Dunn's historian friend." Harry rushed on before whatever Ron wanted to say could leave his mouth, "Voldemort is, too."

"So, how do we find him first?" Ron asked.

Harry smiled. It faded when he saw Ginny coming down the stairs. She caught his eye and hesitated on the bottom step. Her expression closed, but she made her way over to the trio. When it looked like Harry wasn't going to, Hermione filled Ginny in, reining in her curiosity over the sudden awkwardness.

Ginny's reply was the same as Ron's. "So, how do we find him first?"

With input from the Order, Harry outlined their plan, based on Hermione's extensive knowledge of the Hogwarts library and its connection to other major institutions. The others hid their surprise that they were being actively involved in Order business. Even so, Harry answered their unasked question.

"We have time and access to a lot of information. Dumbledore thought it made sense to ask for our help."

Ginny gave him a grin. "Plus he knows we'd be doing it anyway."

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

It had been several weeks since the Shrieking Shack had burned to the ground. It had been written off as an accident, blame laid at the feet of invented transient wizards who had gotten a bit too much to drink at the Hog's Head. Harry and his friends knew the truth, but the other students weren't interested enough to care one way or another. It was odd, the return of normalcy so quickly. Still, some students- those who suspected Harry had been right all along- noticed the tension etched on the faces of the professors.

With Professor Dunn gone, a temporary shuffling of professors had been arranged. Hermione had been right when she'd said Persephone was fine. She was covering Snape's potions classes, to many students' relief. However, Snape had taken over Dunn's classes, to many students' horror. While Harry would never say Snape was pleasant, he was different since the Shrieking Shack. Subdued was the word Hermione had suggested. Ron suggested he just missed his natural habitat in the dank dungeons. They had noticed that even though he had finally achieved professorship of his coveted Dark Arts class, Snape seemed relieved every time class was over and was rarely seen in the classroom or attached office outside of classes. While the DA classes weren't nearly as fun as Lupin's or as interesting as Dunn's, Harry and the others had to admit that, for whatever reason, the edge had been taken off Snape's temper, and the classes were at least, bearable.

Ginny had noticed that Persephone rarely left the dungeons. No one else had noticed, as she was teaching in the Potions classroom and her office was there. She tried to tell herself with the cold weather and Free gone, it made sense, but aside from classes, Ginny hardly ever saw her friend.

Knowing Voldemort was on the same trail to Dunn's mysterious friend lent a sense of urgency to the Order's efforts and the trio's late nights in the library. No one was sure if he was so hard to find because Dunn had never named him, or because he didn't want to be found. As the weeks sped by, they became more anxious and frustrated with their lack of progress in tracking him down, and more concerned Voldemort was making headway where they were not.

However others, most noticeably those in Ginny's year, had worry creasing their expressions for other reasons. Though her OWLs were still some weeks away, she and her classmates could already be seen in the common room well into the night. With their own homework and research for the Order to do, the trio spent as much time as Ginny poring over books. As Hermione and Ginny left the library one evening, Ginny looked over her shoulder, shook her head, a frown creasing her forehead.

Hermione noticed. "Forget something?"

"No," Ginny replied, still frowning. "No. I just... never mind."

Hermione gave her a look, but didn't press. Once they were back in the common room, Harry and Ron immediately demanded an update from Hermione.

"Anything?" Ron asked as Hermione let her backpack land on the table with a loud thump. Ginny's equally heavy stack of mish-mashed parchments, books, and bits of paper landed with a similar thud next to Harry.

"Well, this time I tried cross-referencing names in the Historian Guild registry with anything published about the Book, but didn't come up with anything, really." Hermione's voice was weary.

Harry shook his head in frustration. "Dunn said no reputable historian would have published anything about it. Too bad there's no way to track things that weren't published."

They all fell silent. They hadn't had any luck since Hermione's initial discovery of the Historical Guild's list of registered members. It covered quite a few countries, including Romania, though Dunn had not mentioned where his friend was from.

"There's no other way to contact them?" Harry asked, for what felt like the zillionth time. The Order had resisted sending owls to the names, thinking Voldemort might have the same list and would intercept any attempts to use the usual wizarding communication lines.

Met with the usual uninspired silence, Harry sighed. "I wish wizards had phone books."

"What's a phone book?" Ron asked interestedly.

Harry was in the midst of explaining when Ginny suddenly dove into Hermione's book bag, rummaging furiously. Curiously, they watched as she pulled out a thick sheaf of parchment- the member list of the Historical Guild.

Confused, Harry said, "Ginny, I don't think any of them would be in a phone book."

A gleam in her eye, Ginny flipped to a page toward the end. "Are you sure?"

"Uh, yes?" Ron replied.

She started scanning lists of names. "Look, there are at least a hundred members in the United States, and almost half that in Canada, not to mention the ones here. I don't know a lot about wizarding societies in other countries, I do know that some of the kids in Persephone's school came from mixed families, a lot of whom still used Muggle things at home. You saw her with that computing whatever. They probably have phone numbers. I bet even if none of these wizards has one, they have family that do."

Hermione flushed bright red. "Why didn't I think of that? I have a phone number!"

"So do I," Harry admonished himself. "Well, the Dursleys do."

Ron still looked skeptical. "So say one of them does, or someone they're related to does. How do we find them? Just start looking through phone books hoping for a match? There's probably like, hundreds of them, right?"

Hermione's enthusiasm dampened. "Hundreds of thousands, more like. These names aren't even listed by city for each country." She indicated the list. "They're listed by county in the States and-" She checked other pages. "-province in Canada, city in some other places. This could be a very long search."

"There's got to be a better way," Ron said, looking daunted by the idea.

"Maybe someone in the Order has a better way," Ginny suggested.

"One thing's for sure," Harry said. "Voldemort would never think to use Muggle phone books to find him."

Discouraged, they all turned back to the more mundane task of schoolwork. With a heavy sigh, Ron pulled out his Defense Against the Dark Arts text and started making notes.

"Why did Snape have to give us three feet of essay on vampire talismans? We already did this with Dunn!"

Harry and Hermione, of course agreed with Ron. Ginny however, didn't see the issue. "So what? Just copy your old one and add a bit."

Giving his sister a look, Ron said sarcastically, "Copy the old one? Wow, wish I thought of that! Would have saved me so much time!"

Quickly coming to Ginny's rescue, Hermione said, "Snape read the old ones and said they were rubbish. He still has them."

"So this one has to be twice as long and completely different," Harry added.

"Though really, I suppose it's good," Hermione said as she started writing out her essay using her extensively organized outline. "With all this about the Book, maybe learning more about vampires will inspire us somehow." She looked up suddenly. "You don't think that is what he's trying to do, do you?"

"Absolutely not," the boys replied in unison.

Glaring at his uninspiring empty page, Harry muttered, "Wish we could get some of the better vampire books from the library." Other students in their class, doing the same essay, had checked out most of the books available on the subject. He had looked longingly at the Restricted Section, sure there were volumes in there that would produce an essay even Snape couldn't give a zero. Snape wasn't giving out permission slips for those, though. Harry was sure he just wanted them all to fail.

"So that's what Draco was doing with all those vampire books," Ginny said to herself as she pulled a stack of notes toward her.

"Malfoy has all the books checked out?" Ron exclaimed, throwing down his quill. "Well no wonder we can't get anything useful! I bet he did it on purpose. In fact, I bet Snape told him to."

It was then Hermione remembered something. "But Malfoy's books were from the Restricted Section. I was in line behind him when Madame Pince checked them out. Professor Snape said we couldn't use those."

"Since when does any rule he gives Gryffindors apply to Slytherins? Especially Malfoy," Ron huffed.

The injustice of it did nothing to lighten the mood around the table, nor did it help any of them accomplish much in the way of their essay. It was late when they all decided they'd had enough and headed off to bed.

Neville and Dean were fast asleep by the time Ron and Harry changed and flopped into their respective beds. By his snores, Harry guessed Ron had fallen asleep as soon as his head had hit the pillow. He felt his own eyelids droop with exhaustion.

With a flash of understanding, he sat up like a shot. "Ron!" he whispered loudly. "Ron!"

With a snort, he heard a bleary voice say, "Huh? Wha? It can't be morning already..."

"No! Ron," Harry said, his voice almost shaking with realization. "What if Hermione was right about the vampire essay?"

"Guh?" Ron mumbled sleepily.

"Snape did want us to do more research about vampires without making it obvious it was really to find out more about the Book."

"Since when has Snape ever been that helpful?" Ron's voice was barely audible through his pillow. "Besides, if that were true, he'd have let us into the Restricted Section."

Shaking his head, Harry said, "Not us. Malfoy."

By the sound of Ron's sudden (less muffled) exclamation, Harry knew his fears were not unfounded.

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

Weeks passed with little progress on any front. Ginny remained dwarfed by mountains of books, hard at work preparing for OWLs. Harry and his friends, though they had less schoolwork, spent a great deal of time trying to sift through some of the phone books Persephone had managed to find for them, hoping for a match to one of the Historical Guild's names. They had a short list of people with the right last name, though it was not encouraging. Mr. Weasley had tried some of them with the cell phone he had gotten from Maurice Farrington, with little success. The fact he kept forgetting to recharge the phone, and in fact, had few places to do so, only made things worse. Not to mention the phone had reception in few places Mr. Weasley frequented.

There had been no further Order meetings since progress was grindingly slow in either finding the actual Book of Shadows or Dunn's mysterious friend. Securing the help of the Angst Lords also seemed to be running into problems, since they were very difficult to track down. Even with his phone, Mr. Weasley had little contact with Farrington and when he did manage a conversation, it was usually brief and unsatisfactory. Harry figured the details of the contract were what was causing so much trouble, and wondered if Voldemort had gotten wind of their plans and was bidding for their services as well.

One day at lunch, Harry noticed Draco gloating over his most recent DA essay marks. Of course, the Gryffindors had all scored lower than the Slytherins since Snape had taken over Dunn's classes, but everyone's surprise, the Gryffindors (and even the other Houses) saw less of a discrepancy than they ever had in Potions. Hermione surmised since he'd finally gotten to teach the class he wanted, Snape had relaxed. Ginny just rolled her eyes and disappeared back behind her stacks of notes. Still, Draco made a point of loudly stating how well he was doing, holding his essay high in the air.

"Best essay of anyone's," he said smugly. "Of course, it's to be expected..."

There was something in his tone that caught Harry's attention. It was more than Malfoy's usual false bravado. There was a new confidence in his expression. Something Harry had subconsciously noticed in the last few days, but hadn't recognized until that moment. Smirking haughtily at Harry, Draco turned back to Crabbe and Goyle, glancing from side to side before pulling back his sleeve and itching at a spot on his wrist in a not-so-subtle manner.

Dread settled in the pit of Harry's stomach. He turned to Ron. "I have a bad feeling-"

"Told you to avoid the egg salad mate, looked off to me," Ron said absently, flipping through his notes.

"I'm serious," Harry insisted. "I think Malfoy's been made a Death Eater."

Ron turned, ready with a comeback, but stopped. "Wait, what? Why would you think that?"

"I don't know, I just..." Harry trailed off as Ron turned to see Malfoy look patronizingly at Crabbe and Goyle who had an odd mixture of admiration and jealousy on their faces.

"Blimey, I think you might be right. Why, though? And why now?" Ron asked.

Hermione, who had overheard, wondered, "Do you think the Order knows? Wouldn't Professor Snape have said something?"

"The same Snape who gave Draco access to the Restricted Section but not us?" Ron retorted. Hermione pursed her lips, but didn't reply.

Harry had been meaning to send a note to see how Lupin was doing, and scribbled off something quick on a spare bit of parchment. He could make it to the Owlery before his next class if he hurried.