Harry Potter and the Fifth Year from Hell

Chapter 15 - The Direction Writer

It was a bit late to repair the damage, but Harry swore to himself not to meddle in things that weren´t his business from now on. He´d had it with sneaking and spying.

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer´s Stone, Ch. 15

* * *

"C´mon, Harry, we´ve got to do it. We´ve got to do something?"

Ron and Harry trailed behind the rest of the Gryffindor team as they jogged back to the castle. The soft rain that had been falling all day had suddenly become torrential, and Harry had called an early halt to Quidditch practice. Ron was hissing in Harry´s ear on the same subject he´d been harping on every time he got Harry alone - how they had to find out what was up with McGonagall and her letter-addressing contraption. In the week since the Quidditch trials, Ron hadn´t let up.

"But... Hermione..." Harry protested. Hermione refused to even consider the possibility that her favourite professor might have been involved in burning down her house. She would be appalled if she knew what Ron wanted to do.

"It´s for Hermione," said Ron fiercely, shielding the raindrops from his face with one hand and glaring at Harry. "And we shouldn´t involve her even if she wanted to. She´s a prefect, Harry. She´s supposed to stop things like this, not help plan them." Harry couldn´t help thinking that he would feel - well, safer - if Hermione was helping them. She was good at planning things. Harry´s blood ran cold at the thought of being caught snooping around in Professor McGonagall´s office. They´d really get expelled for that.

They had racked their brains trying to think of a better way. Hermione had once proposed just asking Professor McGonagall about the device, but... while Harry really didn´t think McGonagall was a Death Eater spy, he couldn´t be sure of that. What if she was? He had thought about going to Professor Dumbledore with their suspicions, but it was too awkward to seem to be accusing one of their professors with such a small amount of evidence. He couldn´t face it.

And, as Ron had pointed out, they had the Marauder´s Map, they had the Invisibility Cloak, and they even had the unlocking penknife Sirius had given Harry. What could go wrong? Harry groaned as a hundred things that could go wrong presented themselves to his suddenly aching mind.

"All right, all right, but not tonight," he muttered. "Tomorrow night." Ron flashed him a grin, and then turned to talk to Dean, who was waiting just inside the shelter of the castle door.

Harry had decided to include the two new reserves - Dean Thomas and Sophie Greene - in all the team practices. Oliver Wood had been opposed the whole idea of reserves, claiming that they disrupted team unity and encouraged regular players to coddle themselves when they had trifling little injuries ("like being in a coma," whispered Fred). Given that almost his entire team would be leaving at the end of this year, Harry had a different view. He wished he could have more than two backup players. Not that he had a reserve Seeker, any more than Oliver had. Dean flew well enough to be a Seeker, but he didn´t seem to have the eye for it. His best position was Chaser, and he could play Keeper, too. Sophie was a natural Beater, and she could also play Chaser, though she was nowhere near as fast as Dean. Ron was shaping up very well as the starting Keeper - Fred and George had to work hard to conceal their brotherly pride.

Harry´s Quidditch anxieties fell away from him as he ran up the staircases and his other anxieties crowded back in. Hermione was supposed to be watching Malfoy on the Map every night while they were at practice. So far she hadn´t reported anything of interest, but Ron accused her of skiving off to do homework and neglecting the Map. Harry thought Ron was probably right - Hermione could get awfully involved in her schoolwork. He hadn´t heard from Sirius yet, except that Hedwig had brought back a five-word acknowledgement (`Got your note - more later.´) when she´d delivered Harry´s letter. Harry suspected that Sirius was busy doing something difficult and dangerous. He was hoping to see him on the first Hogsmeade weekend, but that was the weekend before Halloween, more than a month away. In the meantime...

Ron halted suddenly as Harry was climbing through the portrait hole, forcing Dean and Harry to come to a stop behind him. Ron was staring at Hermione´s cat, which was standing in the middle of the room staring at an empty wall. His fur was raised and his tail was high and bushed out.

"Harry, look at Crookshanks!" Ron whispered. "What´s he looking at? I´ll bet... d´you think he´s in here?"

"Who?" asked Dean. Harry ignored him, looking around desperately for Hermione. She was supposed to have the Map - that would show Malfoy, if he were here. The common room was crowded with students, but Harry didn´t see Hermione anywhere. Their usual table was empty. Crookshanks arched his back and hissed, and Harry acted.

"Hold the door!" he muttered to Ron as he brushed past him. He made a quick grab at the area of wall where Crookshanks seemed to be staring, but he didn´t feel anything. He looked in frustration at Crookshanks, who was now looking at Harry.

"Where is he, boy?" he asked the cat. "Look at him, would you, you stupid animal?" Crookshanks put his ears back and glared at Harry. Great, now he´s mad at me.

"Damn it, where´s Hermione?" snapped Ron. "Dean, go help Harry."

Dean was staring in bewilderment from Ron to Harry. "What in bloody blazes are you two on about?" he asked. Harry continued to make grabs in the air, ruefully aware that he looked like an idiot and half the common room was staring at him now.

"Uhh, it´s Peeves," said Harry, thinking quickly. "You know how he can turn invisible? We think he´s in here right now."

"So?" asked Dean, but he started walking and feeling around in the air. "What´ll I do if I catch him?"

"Grab him and hold him!" said Ron. He was plastered against the portrait hole door with his arms stretched out against the wall on both sides. There was no way anyone could get past him. Harry´s attention returned to Crookshanks as the cat moved nearer the door, sniffing suspiciously, and lashing his tail. Harry followed quickly, waving his arms in front of him.

"Gaah!" Ron made a strangled sound as the portrait door opened behind him and he nearly fell backwards.

"Make way, make way, for the food supply," trumpeted George, giving Ron a hard shove with the barrel he was carrying. "Lemonade and pumpkin pie for everyone!" Behind George, Fred started to climb in, an enormous tray in his hands. Alicia and Katie brought up the rear, carrying similar trays. There was an immediate commotion in the common room as the students began to converge on the offered food.

"GEORGE!" yelled Ron furiously, "stop it! We have to guard the door." He rushed back to the doorway, jostling Fred and sending the tray of pies cascading to the ground.

"What the hell do you think you´re doing?" demanded Fred, giving Ron a hard elbow. "Pick those up!" Harry slid desperately between the pies and the wall. Katie and Alicia had dropped back, not wanting to step on the food - there was room, just barely, for a skinny person to slide through. Harry wiggled through the portrait door, and past the two annoyed girls. Was that...? Did he hear... footsteps? He followed the sound - yes, it was clearer now - running footsteps retreating down the corridor. Harry pelted after them.

As he neared the head of the staircase, the sound stopped. Malfoy (or whoever) must have frozen. Harry stopped too, and listened for the sound of breathing. The riot of Weasley yelling coming out through the portrait hole obscured any sounds his quarry might be making. Harry moved quickly to the head of the staircase and threw his arms out. But the staircase was wide - he couldn´t bar the whole width. And the corridor continued to another small stair that cut through to the fourth floor. He couldn´t block all paths. There was a blessed decrease of noise as Ron shoved his way out of the portrait door and slammed it closed. He ignored the Fat Lady´s indignant comment and ran to join Harry.

"Where is he? Did he get out?" Harry gestured for Ron to be silent. They both listened with painful intensity. Was that a rustle of cloth? It was impossible to tell where it had come from. After a few more minutes of groping and listening, they had to give up and admit that their quarry had got away. They sat on the top step of the staircase, and Harry told Ron about the footprints he had heard.

"So where´s the ruddy Marauder´s Map when we need it?" asked Ron disgustedly.

"Hush," said Harry, frowning. "He could still be here listening."

"Not bloody likely," said Ron with a snort. "I feature him running like a bunny rabbit to his hole and hiding his head under the covers." Harry grinned.

"So you think it was Malfoy?"

"Who else?" said Ron. "Why´d you tell Dean it was Peeves?" Harry shrugged.

"I didn´t want to explain about Invisibility Cloaks," he said. "Dean doesn´t know about mine." He thought for a minute. "Maybe we should tell the Gryffindors that Malfoy is sneaking in with an Invisibility Cloak -" He broke off and both boys jumped up at the sound of footsteps running up the stairs. They relaxed when Hermione appeared around the bend, gasping for breath.

"Where were you?" asked Ron, frowning heavily.

"Why´d you stop following him?" demanded Hermione at the same time. "You almost had him twice, Harry. What happened?"

"Where is he now?" Harry said urgently, reaching out for the Map in Hermione´s hand. "Was it Malfoy?" Hermione nodded, too winded to speak, and pointed at a dot on the map moving quickly toward the entrance to the Slytherin common room.

"And where were you?" Ron asked again, his voice loud and angry. Hermione put her hands on her hips and leaned toward him. Apparently she had her breath back again.

"I went to the library, Ron. I suppose you have a problem with that? I was watching the Map."

"So why didn´t you see Malfoy heading this way?" Ron raised a sceptical eyebrow and Hermione´s temperature seemed to go up several degrees. "Got a little carried away with your Arithmancy homework, did you?"

"NO! Neville wanted some help with Transfigurations, and I couldn´t look at the Map while he was there, could I? As soon as I got ri - as soon as he went away, I saw Malfoy was in our common room and you two had him trapped. Why´d you let him out?"

"We couldn´t see him, Hermione, because he was invisible." Hermione flushed pinker.

"Well, I thought so, but then it seemed like you could see him. How´d you even know he was there?"

"Crookshanks," said Ron succinctly. He looked over at Harry, who was absorbed in the Map. "What´s he doing?"

"He´s in his dormitory," said Harry, "on his bed, it looks like." He looked at Hermione. "Did you see what he did before we got there? Did he have time to activate the Revealall again?" They began walking back toward the Gryffindor common room.

"I don´t know," said Hermione defensively. "The last time I saw him, he was going into his dormitory. And then, when Neville left, I saw him near the common room door and you two and Dean were just outside in the corridor."

"Well, how long was he in there?" asked Ron. "How long were you talking to Neville?"

Hermione´s brow cleared and she looked thoughtful. "I left for the library about twenty minutes after you two went to practice. I needed to look in Eastler´s book on Goblin runes. You know how the -" Ron raised his eyes to the ceiling and she hurried on. "Anyway, Malfoy and all his crowd were there in the library. But after a few minutes Malfoy got up and left. I watched him on the Map, but he went down to the dungeons and into the Slytherin common room. And then Neville came over - he had the whole idea of Sticking Spells backward - and that took about fifteen minutes, maybe twenty. As soon as he left, I looked at the Map again. That´s when I saw you in the corridor, and Malfoy was inside the common room.

Harry calculated. "So, if it took Malfoy ten minutes to get from the Slytherin Dungeon to our common room, that means he was in there for five or ten minutes. Could you tell which way he was walking, Hermione?" They halted just out of earshot of the Fat Lady´s portrait, whispering now.

Hermione frowned, staring into space as if she could see the Map before her. "Toward the door, I´d say, but very slowly."

"Well, it´s obvious what happened," said Ron in an eager whisper. "He saw Hermione go into the library and I´m sure he knew we were at practice - we go at the same time every night. So he scurried down to his room, got the Revealall and the cloak, and went sneaking into our common room to set it again. Five or ten minutes is just about how long it would take. And if we hadn´t stopped practice early because of the rain, he´d´ve been away in plenty of time. So all we have to do is try the Occulte Patefacio until we find where he set it."

"I can´t believe we let him get the Revealall back," Harry said, scowling. "Nosy sod!"

"Don´t worry, Harry," said Hermione under her breath. "Leaping Leprechauns," she said out loud to the Fat Lady, and then returned to a whisper as they climbed through the portrait hole. "We´ll find out where he set it and just avoid that place."

But they couldn´t find any evidence that Malfoy had set the Revealall anywhere. Ron contributed to the cause by getting into a loud shouting match with Fred and George over the dropped pies, distracting everyone from noticing Harry and Hermione as they pointed their wands all over the room and murmured "Occulte Patefacio" dozens of times.

"This doesn´t make sense," Hermione hissed. "It has to be somewhere where he can see us."

"Maybe he didn´t have time, after all," suggested Harry.

"Yeah, right, Mo-Ron!" Fred´s voice broke into their whispered colloquy. "Harry, what´s this tripe about Peeves being in here invisible?"

Harry looked up. "Umm, I´m not sure if it´s Peeves or not. But someone´s been eavesdropping in here." Everyone in the room was listening to Harry. "I think someone´s been in here invisible," he said, with perfect sincerity. "Crookshanks sensed someone just now." Some of the Gryffindors looked sceptical or unconcerned, but most of the group seemed to believe Harry. Take that, Malfoy, thought Harry. Just try to sneak in here with half of Gryffindor on the lookout for invisible spies!

Ron broke away from his dispute and joined them. "Haven´t you guys found it yet?" They shook their heads. "Did you look behind the curtains?"

"What good would that do?" snapped Hermione. "He couldn´t see anything if the ball was set there. Why don´t you go check your beds?"

Ron checked behind all the window-curtains anyway, with no success. They didn´t find the telltale green glow anywhere in their dorm room either. Ron insisted they check both the boys´ and the girls´ bathrooms ("we don´t know what kind of pervy git we´re dealing with here") but these, too, were empty of shadowy green balls. There was no evidence that Malfoy had done anything at all in Gryffindor Tower.

*

The next day was Sunday and they spent most of it on schoolwork. Their teachers had begun talking about OWLs, and loading them with work. Hermione had as many books spread out and piled up around her as she had ever had during their third year. She muttered to herself as she worked, utterly absorbed in keeping up with her eleven classes. Harry and Ron were too busy themselves to try to hear what she was saying. They spoke to each other in occasional terse phrases, but for the most part, the only sound was that of quills scratching on parchment and hard rain drumming against the window by their table in the common room.

As the afternoon and evening wore on, however, Harry found himself working less and less, and worrying more and more about what would happen later that night. He had promised Ron that they would investigate Professor McGonagall´s office after everyone else went to bed. At about ten o´clock, he looked across the table at Ron. Ron was bent over his parchment with the tip of his tongue stuck out in concentration, but he seemed to feel Harry´s gaze. He looked up, raised his brows, and glanced at his watch before returning to his work. About ten minutes later, Ron threw his quill down and arched his back in a stretch.

"Time to go to bed," he said, starting to pile up his books and papers. Harry followed suit. Hermione worked on, oblivious. Ron nudged a book from one of her piles onto her parchment, and she looked up, her eyes unfocused.

"Hmmn?"

"Bed, Hermione," said Ron patiently. "Time to go to bed."

Hermione removed the strand of hair she was chewing from her mouth, staring absently at Ron. As her eyes gradually focused on his face, a slight blush crept across her cheeks. Harry looked quickly at Ron. Yes, the ears are red. Harry rolled his eyes, secure in the knowledge that neither of his friends was paying the slightest bit of attention to him at the moment.

"Classes tomorrow, remember?" said Harry helpfully. "I think we´ve worked long enough for tonight. What about bed, and an early start, and all that?" He couldn´t help smirking - he had worried that Hermione would guess that he and Ron were up to something, but she obviously had other things on her mind as she gathered her belongings and climbed the stairs to the girls´ dorm. Harry looked around. Only a few students were still in the common room - mostly seventh-years. NEWTs demanded even more preparation time than OWLs.

Harry and Ron took their things upstairs and came back down, carrying Harry´s book bag with the invisibility cloak inside. Their plan was simple - they would go out of the portrait door openly, and put on the cloak as soon as they were out of sight of the Fat Lady. Angelina Johnson looked up from her chair by the fire as they passed.

"And where are you two going," she asked, in a rare moment of prefect-y officiousness.

"Library," said Ron, holding up a book in illustration. "Got to return this."

"Well, hurry up," said Angelina, returning her eyes to her own book. "Lights out at eleven." They nodded and climbed out through the hole. At the head of the stairs, they pulled out the Marauder´s Map and examined it carefully. Hermione was in her dorm room, probably reading. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle also appeared to be in their beds. Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape were still in their offices, as were Filch and Mrs. Norris. There was no reason for them to patrol while students were still allowed to be in the corridors. However, the corridors were deserted, and the library held only Madam Pince and four students. There was no sign of Peeves.

"Let´s hurry," said Harry. "We can see how she locks up." He pulled out the invisibility cloak and draped it over them. It barely reached the floor, since Ron had got so tall and Harry had got - less short, anyway. It would be impossible, now, for two of them to use it to carry a dragon in a crate, as Harry and Hermione had done their first year. Harry matched his steps to Ron´s and they walked quickly down to the first floor.

The door to Professor McGonagall´s study was open. She was humming to herself as she tidied up stacks of paper and locked some away in the drawers of her desk. Harry was careful not to catch Ron´s eye, afraid he would laugh, as she broke into song - a few words of operatic-sounding gibberish. Next, Professor McGonagall closed the doors of a large ebony cupboard behind her desk. She muttered a locking spell, and used her wand to put what sounded like a hex on the lock. Then she strode briskly out of the room, pausing to put a locking spell on the door as well. Harry and Ron pressed themselves against the wall and watched her walk away.

"I bet the address-thingy is in that black cupboard," Ron whispered as McGonagall´s ringing footsteps faded into silence. "Did you see that hex she put on it?" Harry nodded worriedly. Professor Weasley had taught them to disarm quite a lot of hexes in the last couple of weeks, but the one Professor McGonagall had done was unfamiliar to him. What if it turned them into mice or something? A vision flashed through Harry´s mind of McGonagall, in her Animagus cat form, trapping two helpless mice with her claws. He shook his head to dispel the unpleasant picture and whispered roughly to Ron.

"Let´s get this door open."

But that was easier said than done. None of the unlocking charms they tried had she slightest effect on the door. The device that Sirius had given Harry didn´t work either. Whatever spell McGonagall had used on the door, it was a good one. They could not get in.

*

"We need a Plan B." Ron rested his chin in his hands, staring glumly at Harry. They were the only ones in the common room now. They had, unfortunately, succeeded in returning before eleven o´clock, falling dejectedly into their usual places just in time to say goodnight to Angelina and Katie as they went up to bed. Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"Out with it, Harry," ordered Ron. "I can see you have an idea." Harry hadn´t meant to have an idea, but a picture of himself and Hermione on Buckbeak had popped into his head. Hermione had opened the window to Professor Flitwick´s office with a simple Alohomora spell. It was possible that Professor McGonagall´s window was similarly unguarded. Reluctantly, Harry explained this to Ron.

"Wicked!" Ron was instantly re-animated. "Buckbeak´s not here, but we can ride one of the winged horses!"

"Or we could just use my Firebolt," said Harry dryly. "The one that´s sitting up in our room." Harry didn´t like leaving his beloved broom in the school broom shed, and usually kept it safely locked in his trunk.

"Oh, yeah, that would work too." Ron grinned at Harry, then frowned. "Can it carry us both? We could Summon another broom for me."

"No, we can´t. We only have one invisibility cloak," said Harry, "and it´s probably not a good idea to go flying around without one, eh?"

"Yeah, I guess that would be kind of against the rules," agreed Ron. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let´s go!"

As they climbed the stairs, Harry felt his tiredness slip away and his anticipation build. For years, he´d been wishing for an excuse to climb out their dormitory window at night and take a ride on his broom. When they got to the room, Neville was snoring loudly, and Dean and Seamus seemed to be asleep as well. Harry removed the cloak from his book bag and retrieved his Firebolt from his trunk, while Ron cautiously opened the casement window closest to their beds. It opened with a protesting squeak, but none of their dormitory mates stirred. It was still raining hard outside, but the thickness of the castle wall kept any rain from blowing in through the open window.

Harry mounted his broom and hovered next to Ron. "Hop on," he whispered. "Let´s get the cloak arranged before we go out." Ron swung his leg over the broom.

"Bugger!" exclaimed Ron, in an indignant hiss. "Budge up, Harry. The Cushioning Charm doesn´t go back this far."

"All right, but shut up," whispered Harry, scooting forward. "Here." He threw the cloak over their two heads and wrapped it around beneath their legs so they couldn´t be seen from below. It actually fit better in this position than when they were trying to walk. As soon as they got the cloak tucked in, Harry shot through the window with a suddenness that drew another curse from Ron. He looped gleefully in the air, and then hovered by the window so they could close it again. The invisibility cloak actually kept them dry - Harry hadn´t realized it was waterproof.

"This is brilliant!" Harry said to Ron. He fell into a steep dive and curled around the bottom of their tower, heading for Professor McGonagall´s office. The broom was more sluggish than he was used to, with the double weight on it, but it responded gallantly. Harry put on a little more speed, testing the broom´s capabilities.

"Bloody hell, Harry!" Ron clutched his shirt with both hands. "Do you always have to fly like a maniac?" Harry laughed and shot along the side of the castle, looking for McGonagall´s window. He could tell that Ron was only half-serious. There! Harry pulled up by the window and hovered effortlessly. This was much easier on a broom than it had been on a hippogryph.

Ron already had his wand out. "Alohomora," he said. There was a click, but the window didn´t open. Harry fished in the back pocket of his trousers and brought out the pocketknife Sirius had given him. He pointed it at the window latch and pushed a button. There was another quiet click, and the window opened a few inches. Harry pulled at it, and guided the broom gently inside. They were in!

Ron unwound the cloak from around them and hopped off the broom. Harry dismounted and propped the Firebolt carefully against the wall beside the window.

"You are such a sodding show-off, Potter," grumbled Ron, giving Harry a straight-arm to the shoulder. Harry grinned.

"We can´t all be nancy-boy Keepers, Weasley," he said. "Now shut up, and let´s get to work."

A quick search of the room by wand light revealed mostly a lack of hiding places for an address-writing device. The walls were either bare stone or open bookcases. Most of the desk drawers were unlocked and held nothing more exciting than parchment, files, ink, and quills. The two locked drawers were too narrow to contain more than a few papers. Inevitably, they both turned to the black cupboard built into the wall behind the desk.

"Malus Patefacio," said Harry cautiously, pointing his wand at the lock. Immediately, a sinister red glow appeared, writhing sinuously around the knobs of the cupboard´s two doors. Harry and Ron exchanged glances. This was not one of the hexes they´d covered in Defence Against the Dark Arts. Shrugging, Harry began trying Disarming Charms. Ron prowled restlessly around the room, as Harry tried spell after spell and the telltale glow remained stubbornly present.

"We really need Hermione for this -" began Harry in disgust, but Ron waved him to silence.

"Shh!" he hissed. He pressed his ear against the wooden door, obviously straining his ears to listen. "Someone´s out there!"

Harry whipped the Marauder´s Map from his pocket and unfolded it quickly. One glance told him the worst. Dots labelled `Severus Snape´ and `Minerva McGonagall´ were moving down the corridor toward them, with `Argus Filch´ following behind. Ron came to look over Harry´s shoulder and his face turned white. He leapt for the broom and swept the invisibility cloak up from the floor where he´d dropped it. Harry swung back around and, with a Deletrius, made the red glow from the hex disappear.

"Come on, Harry!" Ron was already on the broom, holding the invisibility cloak ready to throw over Harry. Voices came through the door as Harry jumped on the front of the broom and pulled the cloak over his head.

"Really, Severus, I have no idea what makes you think - you see, the wards on my door are perfectly unbroken." Professor McGonagall sounded furious.

"I assure you, Minerva, my information is reliable." Snape´s voice was as sneering as ever. "They were planning to fly on Potter´s broom and enter through your window."

The door to the office burst open just as Harry pushed open the window to fly out. He froze for a second as the two professors´ eyes seemed to focus on him, and then he realized that they were looking at the open window, not at him. Instantly, Snape rushed forward and made a grab at the window. Harry backed the broom hastily, barely avoiding Snape´s quick hand. The Potions professor stationed himself in front of the window and looked wildly about the office, while Professor McGonagall lit the torches. She looked very discomposed, and there were bright red spots on her sharp cheekbones.

"Well, Severus, it appears that someone was in here. What was your information, exactly?"

"They could still be in here," spat Snape. "Potter´s got that damned invisibility cloak." Harry had a feeling of déjà vu. This was exactly the position he and Ron had been in with Malfoy the day before. He eyed the window longingly. If he could manage to get past Snape... But Snape was tall enough to block almost the entire window, and if they tried to fly over his head he would see them - the cloak wasn´t tucked up properly. Frantically, Harry began wrapping the cloak under their legs. Ron, obviously thinking along the same lines, helped.

Argus Filch came into the room behind Professor McGonagall. "There´s water on the floor!" he snarled, pointing to the damp spot where the invisibility cloak had lain. Snape appeared to be calculating quickly.

"Filch! Guard this window. Don´t let anyone get out. Professor, I suggest we -" McGonagall cut him off.

"If you have information that Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley are out of their beds," she said coldly, "I suggest we go check for ourselves."

"Agreed," said Snape promptly. "Filch, stay here until we return. Professor?" Snape gestured to Professor McGonagall to precede him and they left the office at a near run. The door slammed closed behind them. Harry turned to look at Ron in horror. Ron looked helplessly back at Harry, his face white.

Filch closed the window, and looked suspiciously around the room. Ron pulled out his wand and gestured it at Filch, raising a querying eyebrow. Harry shook his head fiercely. Even if they Stunned Filch and flew out immediately, they would have a hard time getting out the window, around the tower, and through their own window by the time McGonagall and Snape climbed four flights of stairs. If they were going to be caught anyway, it was much better not to be caught assaulting a school employee. Maybe we can... Harry´s mind stuttered as he tried to think of a viable plan.

"Merr! Mrowl!" A demanding meow came through the office door. Filch responded immediately, crossing to open the door and let in his pet cat, Mrs. Norris. Harry tensed, leaning forward and grasping the broomstick tightly. If Filch opened the door wide enough... Harry could feel Ron holding on more tightly behind him. Good, he´s ready. Harry floated the broom over Professor McGonagall´s desk, angling for the opening that would be created when Filch opened the door. Filch wasn´t as tall as Snape, but it would be tricky flying over his head.

"Have you come to keep me company, my sweet?" Filch murmured, opening the door. He leaned over to stroke the cat and Harry reacted in an instant, shooting the gap between Filch´s back and the top of the door. Even with Filch bent over, they had to duck their heads.

They were out. Now, if they could just beat the two professors back to the common room! Harry leaned over until his face was almost touching the broomstick and sped toward the tower stair. Behind him, he could hear Ron making squeaky, indistinct sounds of terror. Harry didn´t think he had ever flown so fast. The wind whistled in his ears and the stone walls blurred as they passed. He made a nearly impossible right angle turn into the stair and shot straight up through the open stairwell. Ron cursed and grabbed him around the waist to keep from sliding off the back of the broom.

Harry had never flown inside a building before - it was wonderful! He flashed past Snape and McGonagall about halfway up. He could hear a scrap of their conversation - "assure you, Minerva, I have excellent reason to believe" - before they were left behind, out of hearing range. The Firebolt burst out at the top of the stairs and turned instantly toward the door to the Gryffindor common room. An unwelcome realization came to him Harry, and he pulled the broomstick up in a sudden stop. They would have to get off the broom, and remove the invisibility cloak to give the password to the Fat Lady. Did they have time? No! - Snape´s and McGonagall´s voices floated up from the head of the stairs. They were on the last flight - it would be impossible to get through the portrait door before their heads appeared.

Harry floated indecisively, watching the approaching man and woman with horror. They were striding at almost a running pace. It occurred to Harry that both professors must be in good shape, especially McGonagall - at her age... He shook his head to clear it, and followed them as they passed him and stopped in front of the portrait door.

Professor McGonagall spoke sharply to the Fat Lady. "Have any students come through here?"

"Not recently," said the Fat Lady, yawning. "About an hour ago..." Professor McGonagall didn´t wait for her to finish the sentence.

"Let us in, please. Leaping Leprechauns!" The portrait of the Fat Lady swung wide and Harry flew through as it opened, trying desperately not to brush against the two professors as he passed literally in front of their noses. He put on full speed again, shooting through the familiar common room in the blink of an eye and heading for the spiral stair to the boys´ dormitories.

"Blimey, Harry!" Ron let out an involuntary whisper of protest as Harry started the tight circles necessary to fly up the stairs. There was no well in the centre of these stairs - they were built around a thick stone column. Harry tried not to enjoy it too much as he whipped around and around, constantly feeling that he was about to crash into the outside wall or the stairs ahead of him. This was precision flying as he had never done it before - one tiny mistake, and both of them would be knocked cold, possibly killed. He was careful not to make any mistakes. Finally, they reached the top floor of the tower. Open the door - there! Close it quietly, and...

"We made it!" Harry pulled the Firebolt to a stop over Ron´s bed. Ron rolled off, dragging the invisibility cloak with him. In the dim moonlight from the window, his face looked ghostly white, tinged with green.

"Remind me... to... kill you... tomorrow," Ron gasped, but he pushed the invisibility cloak between his sheets, whipped off his shirt and threw it onto the floor, and pulled the bedcovers up to his chin, closing his eyes and feigning sleep. Harry pulled off his shirt, too. There was no time to put the Firebolt back in the trunk. He Banished it to stand quietly against the wall beside the door, and climbed into bed. Suddenly Ron gasped.

"Harry, the window - we left it unlocked." Harry jumped back out of bed and ran to the window. He latched it quickly, and leapt back into the bed, pulling the covers up. There were voices outside.

"Lumos." Both professors entered, their wands held up to give off a soft light. Harry tried to control his breathing, forcing the slow, deep pattern of sleep.

"Well, really, Severus, they´re both in their beds," whispered McGonagall accusingly.

"Check the windows," hissed Snape. "They must have gone out your office window before we got there, and flown back around here." He stalked to the window between their two beds, peering at it suspiciously.

"If you haven´t noticed, Professor Snape, it´s pouring rain outside. Why do you suppose they´re not wet?" asked McGonagall sarcastically. "Look at Mr. Weasley´s hair - bone dry! Look at this window sill - not a drop!" Through his slitted eyes, Harry saw Ron turn over and groan as McGonagall pointed her wand near his face. Both professors pulled back and lowered their voices. Harry saw that Snape was actually quivering with fury.

"They got back somehow," he said fiercely. "Look, there´s Potter´s broom!" He pointed to the broom, propped up behind the open door.

"Yes, I´ve noticed that Mr. Potter prefers to keep his broom up here," said McGonagall. "No doubt he fears sabotage from certain unscrupulous Quidditch rivals." She fixed Snape with a disdainful look as he reached out and touched Harry´s broom. Harry was glad brooms weren´t like cars - if they were, his broom´s motor would be smoking after a ride like that. Snape flung away with an impatient exclamation. He prowled around the room, checking window latches, and examining the floor carefully with his outstretched wand. Presumably he was looking for water drops, or some kind of clue. McGonagall watched him with her arms crossed and one foot tapping.

Harry closed his eyes and concentrated on his slow breathing as Snape came to a halt beside his bed. Even with his eyes closed, he could feel Snape´s furious glare.

"Potter´s not wearing pajamas," he said abruptly. Harry started a little at the voice so close to his face. Should he "wake up?" No, it was better not to face any interrogation right now. Harry winced as if the light from Snape´s wand was bothering him, and turned his head restlessly on his pillow. "And both Potter and Weasley have left their bed curtains open," Snape continued.

"I don´t monitor what my students wear to bed or how they keep their curtains," said McGonagall, her voice frosted with ice. "Are you quite finished disturbing my House? I would like to go to sleep myself."

"There was someone in your office, just as I said," Snape pointed out.

"Yes, there was," snapped McGonagall. "But since you refuse to tell me on what grounds you suspect Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley of being that person, I see no reason to -"

Snape made a wordless exclamation of rage and stalked out of the room. Professor McGonagall followed him. She paused as she was closing the door, and took one last look around the room. Neville´s snores made a soothing counterpoint to the rain beating against the windows. Harry saw Professor McGonagall smile faintly as she softly closed the door.

*

Harry woke the next morning at first light - a niggling feeling of Something Wrong in his stomach. He sat up in sudden dismay as he remembered - first, that Professor Dumbledore seemed to have an uncanny way of knowing what was going on anywhere in the castle; second, that he and Ron had undoubtedly left their fingerprints all over Professor McGonagall´s office; and third, that Snape had known somehow what he and Ron were doing. He wondered miserably if Snape had a potion to identify fingerprints. He also wondered if they had missed finding the Revealall´s new location, or if Malfoy had set some other diabolical spying device. He stifled an urge to wake up Ron and discuss all this. Until they found out how Snape had known what they were doing, they would have to be very careful about what they said.

At breakfast, Hermione noticed that both Ron and Harry were pale and yawning. "What´s wrong with you?" she said suspiciously. "Didn´t you go to bed when I did?"

Harry squirmed uncomfortably, but Ron brightened. "I don´t know," he said. "Exactly what time did you go to bed?"

"Weren´t you watching me on the Map?" Hermione asked tartly. "I thought you liked to time how long we girls spend in the bathroom."

Ron blushed, but smirked. "It looks the same on the Map whether you´re reading or sleeping, Hermione. Maybe you should -" Harry kicked him, and he broke off. Patrick Finnigan had come up behind Ron´s shoulder.

"Er, Harry? Harry Potter?" he asked respectfully.

"Yes."

"Erm, could you go to - Professor McGonagall asked me to tell you that Professor Dumbledore wants to see you in his office." Harry could feel his face whitening, and his eyes sought Ron´s. Ron looked horrified.

"Just me?" asked Harry. He was surprised to hear that his voice sounded normal. "Right now?"

"Yes," said Patrick. "Professor McGonagall said she would meet you there." Harry gave Ron one last despairing look and slowly stood up. Both Ron and Hermione stared at him as he walked the length of the Great Hall to the door. He looked at the high table - Snape was watching him with an expressionless face. At the Slytherin table, Malfoy was watching him as well. He whispered something to Crabbe, and Crabbe looked at Harry, too. Do they know what this is about? Surely they´d look happier, if they knew I was about to be expelled?

More dark thoughts passed through Harry´s mind as he made his way to the second floor. Why wasn´t Ron summoned as well? Would he be interviewed separately? Maybe only Harry was suspected - he resolved not to mention Ron under any circumstances, even if he had to lie.

All too soon, Harry was standing in front of the stone gargoyle that hid the entrance to the Headmaster´s office. As he hesitated, wondering which sweet was the current password, the stone wall slid silently open, revealing a rising curved stair. Harry stepped onto it and rode upward, his brain buzzing with nervous conjectures. Professor McGonagall would be up there - would she question him about last night? Would they use Veritaserum for something like this?

As he stepped off the top of the stair, Dumbledore´s polished oak door swung open as well and, reluctantly, Harry entered the Headmaster´s circular office. A quick glance around the room showed him that Dumbledore was standing by his desk, and Professor McGonagall was seated on a sofa to one side of the fireplace. Next to her was - Harry frowned in confusion - old Mrs. Figg. What did she have to do with this?

"Hello, Harry. Won´t you have a seat?" Dumbledore indicated the sofa to the other side of the fireplace. He looked serious, but not angry. Harry sank into the sofa, looking from Dumbledore to McGonagall to Mrs. Figg.

"Thank you," he said uncomfortably. "Er, hello, Mrs. Figg."

"Hello, Harry," said Mrs. Figg. She looked pleasant, but did not smile. Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat and spoke.

"Harry, I´m afraid we have some unpleasant news for you."

Harry could feel the bottom drop out of his stomach. Sirius? Had Sirius been hurt or... killed? He managed to stammer out one word. "Sirius -?"

"No, Harry. Sirius is fine." Professor Dumbledore reached out one hand and lightly touched Harry´s shoulder. "It´s your aunt and uncle, the Dursleys." The Dursleys? Harry was amazed at the wrenching guilt he felt. If something had happened to the Dursleys, it had to be his fault. But what -?

"I´m sorry to tell you that they have moved household and left no forwarding address," said Dumbledore gravely. "They´ve left no word with this school. I assume they haven´t contacted you, either?" Harry shook his head numbly. "We can only conclude that they wish to be hidden from the wizarding world."

"Of course I followed them," said Mrs. Figg. "It was ridiculously easy. But, Harry, I don´t believe they have any intention of having you live with them again. I believe they are afraid of - Lord Voldemort." She winced, but spoke the name firmly.

Through his numbness, Harry felt a bolt of joy shoot through him. Never to live with the Dursleys ever again! And by their choice, not his! Dumbledore couldn´t ask him to live with the Dursleys if they wouldn´t accept him. He looked from Professor Dumbledore to Professor McGonagall. They both looked very serious and upset.

"I knew those people couldn´t be depended on," McGonagall said bitterly. "Albus, do we continue to protect them now? They´ve completely broken the agreement."

Agreement? What agreement? Harry tried to look inconspicuous as he listened closely. The headmaster pursed his lips thoughtfully.

"Yes, they have broken the agreement indeed. But, Arabella, if you wouldn´t mind watching over them for a few more weeks? If nothing happens by, say, Halloween, I think we can safely draw you off for a more useful role. We can arrange for another Special Protection Zone, at least."

Mrs. Figg nodded agreement "I can´t say I´ll be sorry to give up my Muggle disguise," she said. "So hard to keep up with the Quidditch standings. But Albus, Minerva - what in the world are we to do with Harry next summer? Nothing else can possibly be as safe..."

"I talked to Sirius about that," Harry broke in impulsively. The three older people all turned their heads and looked at him in surprise. Harry continued more quietly. "I thought - when the Dursleys tossed me out this summer - that they wouldn´t want me back. Sirius said that he´d make a home for me."

The other three exchanged worried glances; they didn´t seem to think much of this idea.

"He is my guardian," Harry said stubbornly. The headmaster nodded understandingly.

"Yes, he is your legal guardian, Harry, but as for you living with him...." He pursed his lips and continued briskly. "We´ll have plenty of time to resolve that before next summer. For now - is there anything you need? Anything we should retrieve for you from among the Dursleys´ belongings?"

Harry thought of the small bedroom he normally occupied. The hiding place under his floorboards was empty. His summer clothes - Dudley´s cast-offs - were in the bureau drawers. There were a few books that technically belonged to Dudley that he was rather fond of. Other than that...

"Not really, Professor. Nothing that I´ll miss." As he spoke, a strange feeling, almost of regret, washed over him. He would never see the house on Privet Drive again - the letter slot where he´d found his first Hogwarts letter, the window where he´d escaped with Ron, Fred, and George, the garden hedge where he´d first seen Dobby, the street where he´d walked with Sirius... Harry remembered the flowers in Aunt Petunia´s garden - she always had such nice ones. And Dudley... he hated Dudley, of course, but he´d grown up with him. It would be - strange - never to see him again. With a shock, Harry realized that he had been looking forward to the summer after next - when he would turn seventeen and be able to use magic outside of school. He had been depending on getting some of his own back against Dudley. Well, that would never happen now.

"Very well, Harry," said the headmaster gravely. "Now, Minerva, we had best hurry if we´re going to discuss that other matter before classes begin. Might I prevail upon you to escort Mrs. Figg to the Great Hall? I´m sure she would like some breakfast. Then you can conduct Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger to your office. Contact me through the fire, and Harry and I will join you.

Professor McGonagall agreed. Harry rose to shake hands with Mrs. Figg and remained uncomfortably standing. Were they going to talk about last night, after all? Why get Hermione then? Did they think she was involved?

As the two women left, Harry´s eyes fell upon the phoenix perch beside the door. It looked long disused. He wondered where Fawkes was. Fawkes couldn´t die - as a phoenix, he would burst into flames at the end of his life, and be reborn from the flames as a new chick. Reborn from the flames. Harry froze, thinking furiously. "Child of fire" - if anyone was a child of fire, it was Fawkes. "The child of fire is the father of the storm" - those were the words of Firenze´s message to Harry. Was Fawkes the one? Then what was the storm?

With a start, Harry realized that Dumbledore had seated himself at his desk and was looking at him with amused curiousity. Harry hurried to sit in the chair in front of the desk. As he sat, he couldn´t resist asking, "Where is Fawkes?"

The amusement faded from Dumbledore´s eyes. "He is with Hagrid. You know what Hagrid´s mission is, don´t you, Harry?"

"Sirius told me that he´s collecting representatives for the Order of the Phoenix - to fight Voldemort."

"Indeed." Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "He is racing to do so with all possible speed. For it is a race, Harry - a race between us and Lord Voldemort. If the Order can meet, and appoint a champion, before..." He stared into space.

"Before what?" Harry asked.

"Before Voldemort can regain his lost immortality. If he succeeds in doing that, he will be considerably more difficult to defeat."

Questions boiled up in Harry´s mind. Should he ask about his grandfather, Simon Potter? But a different query came. "How can Voldemort make himself immortal again?"

Dumbledore´s eyes gleamed with humour again. "By my best estimate, he attempted thirty-seven different methods in his previous incarnation. We have evidence of four different attempts he has made since last June. I believe that he does not know which method actually protected him fourteen years ago."

"Do you know?" Harry asked bluntly. "Which one worked, I mean?"

"I am not certain, of course," said Dumbledore, "but I believe I can make a very good guess. A very simple and ancient ploy involving no Dark Magic at all."

"What was it?"

Dumbledore´s eyes twinkled. "I think it is better if I say no more, Harry. You never know what may come to his ears."

Harry nodded, biting his lip thoughtfully. Four attempts since last June. How many ways could there be of cheating death? He had heard of only two - the Elixir of Life from the Philosopher´s Stone, and unicorn blood. The Stone was destroyed - but might Voldemort know how to make another? Unicorn blood only halted death temporarily, and gave a cursed life in return for destroying innocence - but that had not stopped Voldemort from using it before. And then there were phoenix tears... Fawkes´s tears had healed Harry when he was near death from basilisk venom.

"What were the four attempts?" It couldn´t hurt to ask.

Dumbledore looked thoughtful. After a few moments, he spoke. "I can tell you one of them. Since it is public knowledge, it doesn´t endanger any of my information sources. This summer, Endymion Nott travelled to Europe. On his return, he was searched by the Customs Division of the Department of International Magical Cooperation and found to be carrying three hogsheads of virgins´ blood."

"Virgins´ blood?" Harry could hear his voice go high and creaky. What in the world? The headmaster looked solemn.

"It is still sold in Transylvania as a delicacy for vampires. Humanely gathered, of course. They charge an exorbitant price for it. But its importation into Britain is strictly forbidden, above a pint or two for personal use."

Harry blinked. He had written a paper on vampires for Professor Lupin´s class, but he had never met one (as far as he knew). Not that he wanted to meet a vampire - ever. He cleared his throat.

"What did he want the blood for? Was Voldemort going to drink it?"

"Oh, no indeed. Not drink it - bathe in it. It is believed to act as a preservative against the aging process."

"Does it work?"

"Not in the slightest." Dumbledore´s voice was untroubled. "A colossal waste of money." While Harry was gaping at the Headmaster, Professor McGonagall´s face appeared in the fireplace.

"We´re ready for you, Professor."

"Ahh, yes. Harry, will you step into the fire?" Harry obeyed numbly, and felt a whirling sensation. Almost instantly, he found himself climbing out of the fireplace in Professor McGonagall´s study. Professor McGonagall was standing by the fire. Ron and Hermione were staring at him from chairs beside the open window. Harry looked searchingly at Ron. What´s this about? Ron gave a tiny shrug. Don´t know, mate.

Professor Dumbledore stepped out of the firebox behind Harry. He looked at the other four with a pleased smile.

"We had best get right to the subject, for all of you have lessons to go to in about twenty minutes. I received a letter from Harry´s guardian, Sirius Black. Harry, Sirius says that the note you were sent this summer when Miss Granger´s house was set on fire was addressed like a Hogwarts letter?

Harry stammered, looking from the Headmaster to Professor McGonagall. "Oh. Yes. Err, it has the room on it, I mean. Where I was. Not the handwriting." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione roll her eyes. He wasn´t surprised to hear her speak.

"It said `H. Potter, The Kitchen, 7 Larkspur Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey´," she clarified. "It was handwritten in blank ink, with capital, printed letters." Harry nodded his head in corroboration of this description. Professor McGonagall looked keenly interested, and, Harry thought, rather annoyed.

"The Kitchen?" she said. "How in the world did they --? And that´s where you were, Mr. Potter?" Harry nodded. "Well!" McGonagall definitely looked annoyed now. "I´ve never heard of anyone besides Hogwarts having a Direction-Writer. If it were improperly used -"

"A Direction-Writer? What´s that?"

"It´s one of the treasures of the school," said McGonagall, not seeming to notice that Harry had interrupted her. "It can address envelopes to the current location for any student in the Book of Names."

"Minerva, the day of Harry´s birthday party," Professor Dumbledore sounded grave now, "you were away from your office, as I´m sure you recall."

"Yes, of course, the meeting about -" She broke off with a quick look at the three students. "The meeting that prevented either of us from attending Arabella´s party." Dumbledore nodded.

"Do you think anyone could have used the Direction-Writer while you were gone?"

"Oh, I really don´t see how." Professor McGonagall frowned at the ebony cupboard behind her desk. "I had it locked and warded as usual, and my office door as well. Even if someone managed to get into my office" - Harry felt his face freeze as she suddenly glanced at her window and then swiftly at him and Ron - "I don´t see how anyone could get past my hex on the cupboard door." She considered. "Perhaps a specialist in curse-breaking, if they had a great deal of time to work on it." Harry concentrated on keeping his face perfectly bland. I wasn´t here last night. I´ve never tried to break into that cupboard.

"Could we see the Direction-Writer?" Hermione broke into Professor McGonagall´s musing. Harry looked at her in surprise. Of course! She wasn´t with us last night. Hermione had no reason to feel guilty.

"Well, I don´t see why not..." McGonagall looked at Professor Dumbledore for confirmation. He shrugged, with a slight smile. McGonagall turned to the cupboard behind her and murmured over the lock, moving her wand in a complex pattern. The doors clicked and swung open, and McGonagall tenderly lifted out a box made of dark satiny wood, which sat in the middle compartment of the cupboard. Hermione drew in her breath and leaned forward eagerly, while McGonagall set the box gently on her desk and took out an ancient leather book and a silver pen, like a very fat fountain pen, with a gold tip.

Hermione let out a tiny gasp. "Is that The Book?" she asked, with uncharacteristic shyness. "The one that had my name in it?" McGonagall´s stern expression softened.

"Would you like to see it?"

"Could I?" Hermione´s voice was hushed and serious. McGonagall opened the book carefully and turned quickly to a page.

"There you go, my dear - born September nineteenth, ninetee... well, it´s your birthday tomorrow, isn´t it?" Hermione nodded absently, still staring at the book. Ron rose to look over her shoulder.

"There´s my name," he said, pointing. "You´re here too, Harry."

"What is that book?" asked Harry. Here, again, seemed to be something that everyone in the wizarding world but him knew about. Harry was getting tired of the feeling.

"It is the Book of Names, Harry." The Headmaster answered his question. "Every time a child with magical powers is born in Britain, whether to wizards or to Muggles, his or her name immediately appears in this book. When the time is right, we send them a letter inviting them to attend Hogwarts. Naturally, your name is here."

"And this is the Direction-Writer?" asked Hermione. She was pointing at the fat silver pen.

"Yes, indeed," said McGonagall. "It will write the current direction of any student in the Book of Names, no matter where they might be. I can leave a pile of envelopes, and ask it to do all current students, or all students to be admitted the next year, or any other group I need. It is very efficient."

Harry stood and drew closer to the desk. "Can we see how it works?"

McGonagall drew a small stack of parchment envelopes out of a drawer and set them on top of the Book of Names. She balanced the pen on top of the book. It stood upright on its long gold tip, quivering slightly in apparent eagerness to write.

"Harry Potter," she said. The pen immediately began writing in smooth green looping letters. As soon as it finished, the envelope flew off the pile and settled on the desk. Harry examined it:

Mr. H. Potter

Deputy Headmistress´ Study, First Floor

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

"Cool!" Ron was recovered from his guilt-induced silence. "Why does it say where Harry is right this minute? The ones we usually get have our bedroom on them."

"It always writes where the addressee is at that very moment," said McGonagall, "which is why I do all my Direction-Writing in the night hours. Otherwise, I would get all sorts of temporary locations. But people stay in one place while they sleep. The owls can usually deliver the letters by the morning."

Harry was fascinated. The Direction-Writer seemed to have some of the same magical power as his Marauder´s Map - you could use it to find where people were - not only at Hogwarts, but anywhere, apparently. He spoke up.

"Can it do students who have left school, too?" Professor McGonagall looked startled for a moment, and then frowned thoughtfully.

"I´ve never had an occasion to send out letters to old students, but I believe it was done for invitations to the ceremony when Professor Dumbledore was installed as Headmaster." She looked at Dumbledore. "Was the Direction-Writer used?"

"I think it was," he said. His eyes met Harry´s briefly, and he spoke to the silver pen, which was still quivering expectantly. "Sirius Black," he said slowly. The pen wrote:

Mr. S. Black

Hearthrug in the Parlour

Lupin Lodge

Broomhill Grange, Nottinghamshire

Harry grinned to see that Sirius was asleep on the rug again, but McGonagall gasped sharply.

"Albus! Do you mean to say... all that time... I could have found Sirius Black with this?" She stared at the Headmaster, her face displaying a mixture of guilt and indignation.

"It certainly appears to be so, Minerva," he replied, with a grave twinkle. "But we should be grateful we didn´t think of it, I suppose."

Harry only half-registered this. He was suddenly too occupied to think about what might have happened if Sirius had been located while Peter Pettigrew was still living with Ron in the dormitory. A different thought filled his entire mind. His eyes were drawn to the pile of envelopes, where the Direction-Writer again waited patiently.

Harry tried to speak, but his voice was hoarse. He cleared his throat and tried again.

"Tom Riddle." Four pairs of eyes whipped around to stare at Harry.

"It won´t work for you, Mr. Potter." McGonagall´s voice was severe. "It will only respond to the Headmaster, myself, or a Hogwarts prefect. It was first developed by...." Hermione made an impatient gesture and interrupted her favourite professor.

"Tom Riddle."

The Direction-Writer quivered for a moment, then froze. Then, very slowly, it began to move, increasing in speed as it went:

Mr. T. Riddle

Queen Elizabeth Bedroom

Gifford Hall

Staffordshire

The envelope shot out from beneath the pen. Harry reached out and caught it in his hand.

* * *

Next Chapter: Appropriate Behaviour for Witches and Wizards

In which Hermione´s birthday is celebrated and the Fifth-Year Assembly is held. People talk about Voldemort and stuff, too.