Harry Potter and the Daoimear de Dán

Chapter Seven- Feathers & Frolicking Tigers

Ron was feeling quite philosophical that evening. He and Harry had given up on research quite quickly and had gone back to the common room. It had been quite crowded and so they went outside to take advantage of the slightly improving weather.

"Full moon tonight," Harry said, looking up into the sky. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he heard a sad howl from somewhere in the distance.

"Where's Remus?" Ron asked him.

"At home. Sirius left this afternoon to join him."

"Hermione's taking a while. Wonder what Dumbledore wanted."

"No idea," said Harry. "Probably something to do with being a phoenix. You know how much he loves phoenixes."

"Yeah. Bit like Hagrid and dragons."

"Except that phoenixes burst into flames, they don't breathe them."

"Wouldn't it be funny if Hermione did that?" asked Ron.

"I think the word you're looking for is weird, Ron."

"Yeah." Ron paused and thought deeply for a moment. "Don't you think it's strange that all these elements are coming together now? It's as if there's a big cosmic plan which says that the war against Voldemort is scheduled to take place on a specific date, and the pieces are being moved into place in preparation for it."

"What do you mean?" asked Harry.

"Well, I mean, we didn't know Maura even existed until last term, then she randomly shows up. Then we get told we're all descended from these people. I mean, when did I ever show much promise in Divination until I suddenly find out I'm a shaman? Not Ginny, not Bill or Fred, but me."

"I think it's called effort Ron, and you never put any in before," Harry joked.

"There is that," Ron said quickly, "but there's other things too. I just get this feeling... Like everything's moving into place and we're all a part of it. Like everything is happening for a reason."

"OK. Well... Been in any good trances lately?"

"Not really since the Guardians were here. I'm new at this lark and I don't trust Trelawney. I might never get out of it. You know some shamans went into such deep trances they never came out? They stayed like that until they died. Sometimes they were killed."

"Why?"

"People were scared, I suppose. Scared of the unknown."

"You're very philosophical this evening Ronald," said Harry with an ill-concealed smirk. Ron returned it.

"It's the shaman in me. We're by nature quite a deep-thinking bunch. Unlike you plunge-in head-first-ask-questions-later warrior sorts."

"Hey!"

"I'm not knocking it, Harry. I mean, have you ever heard of shamans winning wars? That's your department. Don't you see what I mean? We've got the combination to win the war and it's all come together pretty quickly. As if someone is deciding everything."

"You believe in God, Ron?"

"I guess so. I mean, who created magic in the first place? Who gave it to wizards and who decides who gets it and who doesn't..."

"OK Ron!" Harry exclaimed. "You're starting to scare me now. Can I have my Quidditch-obsessed best friend back please?"

Ron grinned.

"Got a bit intense, did I?" he asked. "I've just been thinking about this stuff more and more lately."

"Me too. I worry..."

"I know, mate, I know. But the way I see it, the sooner we get on with it, the sooner everyone can get on with their lives. And maybe we'll have enough time to cram for our NEWTs."

Harry laughed. Somehow, Ron always managed to make the most dire of situations amusing.

***

Hermione was not yet back when they decided to head back inside. According to Parvati, Hermione hadn't returned to the tower since leaving with them after dinner. Had it been anyone else, they might not have panicked. But Harry and Ron still recalled her kidnapping a few months earlier with quite painful clarity, and so they shot off to find the Marauder's Map.

"Hang on!" Harry said, smacking himself in the forehead. "Didn't we give it to Hermione at lunch to look after?"

"Yes."

"Well, we'll just have to look for her the hard way. Now, if we were Hermione, where would we be?" Harry asked.

"Library," they said together, shooting off in the direction of the library.

Sometimes, Harry liked Hermione's predictability when it came to studying. As they shot around the corner and into the library (earning glares from Madam Pince), the common sight of Hermione's head bent over a book was a welcome, relieving sight.

"Hermione! Have you been here all this time?" asked Harry with concern. She looked up, quite surprised to see them there, as if she hadn't even heard them come into the library.

"Oh, I had to speak to Dumbledore. Then I came here. Were you worried?"

"No," said Ron in a quite sarcastic tone. "We just guessed you'd been kidnapped again."

Hermione actually looked like she might cry. Harry and Ron both pulled up chairs and shared concerned looks.

"What's the matter, Hermione?" asked Harry. She quickly explained what Dumbledore had revealed to her earlier.

"Wow," said Ron. "You've got as much history as Harry and Maura."

"Yes," she said, her lip trembling. "Isn't it lovely?"

Harry looked at her, his green eyes meeting her brown eyes.

"What is it?" he asked softly. For a moment, Hermione forgot Ron was even there and just allowed herself to drown in green. But she then remembered the things he'd said and broke the stare.

"It's nothing. Nothing," she said quietly. Then she shut the book and tucked it under her arm. "We really should get back to the tower."

Before either could protest, she was out of the door and all they could do was follow.

***

It had been quite some time since Harry had serious problems getting to sleep. But it was now three in the morning, and he was still wide-awake. He slid out of bed, trying to be quiet enough not to wake the others up. He shoved his glasses on and fumbled around for a moment before finding his thick scarlet and gold dressing gown. Once wrapped up, he headed out of the room and down to the common room.

He hadn't expected to see anyone else down there, but at the same time, he was not surprised to see Hermione there. What was surprising, however, was what she was doing. When Hermione couldn't get to sleep, she came down here to read- everyone in Gryffindor from her roommates and best friends to the littlest of First years knew that. But tonight (or this morning, depending on your point of view) she was simply sitting staring into the fire.

"Hermione?" he whispered. Startled, Hermione jumped about a foot in the air.

"Harry? What are you doing up?" she asked, recovering quickly.

"Couldn't sleep. What's the matter?"

"Nothing. I can't sleep either."

"I can see that. But the day Hermione Granger chooses to stare into space instead of read is the day the earth spins in the other direction."

"Maybe I've had enough reading," she said shortly. Harry sat down beside her, ignoring the fact that this was the closest he'd been to her for some time. Now he was just concerned about his best friend.

"What happened with Dumbledore?"

"I told you."

"OK. What happened after that?"

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong. It's probably just a hormonal imbalance resulting from my menstrual cycle."

"Don't try and put me off with menstrual stuff," he said, going slightly green just the same.

She sighed haltingly, and he realised she was close to tears again. Without needing to think about it, his arms went around her and he hugged her tightly. After a minute like that, Hermione pulled away. She reached for the book she'd been reading in the library and handed it to him wordlessly. She'd marked several pages, and he opened it to the first mark.

"Nuala Mac Fiann, granddaughter of the great and wise Ruairi, founder of the Order of the Phoenix and High Priest of the Connaught kingdom...." Harry skipped through the list of Ruairi's achievements, "was found guilty of treason and murder against her people..." Now he read Nuala Mac Fiann's list of achievements, or more accurately, crimes. Whoever she had been, she sounded highly undesirable. Harry looked up at Hermione briefly, but she was back to staring into space. He went onto the second page she'd marked.

"In 1621, Liam Fitzgerald of County Sligo was found guilty of killing fifteen young women in a ritual sacrifice. It is not clear what the ritual entailed, but it is believed he was attempting to harness magical power..." Harry trailed off there, already getting the gist of what was troubling Hermione. But then he moved to the final page she'd marked.

"James MacLennon of County Londonderry was, in 1841, thwarted in his attempts to take over Belfast through use of magic. After killing fifteen young women in the same ritual sacrifice that another descendant of the great Ruairi attempted some 200 years previously, MacLennon destroyed a section of Belfast before being brought down by members of the famed Order of the Phoenix. Members of his family were found to know nothing of his plans and were allowed to leave Ireland..."

Harry looked at her with concern.

"Hermione?"

"What's to say that I don't end up like them? Ritual human sacrifices? Destroying cities?" she asked in a quiet, terrified voice.

"You don't have an evil bone in your body, Hermione!" he exclaimed. She laughed harshly.

"Of course I do, Harry. Don't be so naive. Everyone has the potential for good or bad. Otherwise we'd be angels."

"Yes, that's true. But Hermione, you're not evil. You don't even like being mean to Malfoy!"

"I know that, but if you read more of this book, which is all about Ruairi's descendants by the way, you'd learn that even more of them turned bad. They didn't start off bad. But when they started using their powers, they got corrupted. They got addicted to the power they possessed."

"I have a question," he said. "How many descendants of Ruairi have there been in the last two thousand years?"

"Well, according to the book, he fathered nine children who lived to adulthood. They each had a number of children... There's quite a few. They spread out all over Ireland and Britain and beyond."

"Are you telling me that each one of them turned bad?"

"No," she admitted.

"Earlier, you said Rowena Ravenclaw was one, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Should I go and wake up the Ravenclaws and tell them that their founder went evil?"

"No. She didn't."

"And your great-grandmother?"

"No."

"What about some of the others?"

"Well... There was a woman during the witch-hunts who hid a lot of innocent witches and wizards from the mobs..."

"Any more?"

"One of Ruairi's sons was renowned for healing people just by touching them."

"And?"

"I can't think of any more. I haven't read the whole book yet."

"Hermione, there are bad apples in every... basket? I always forget the whole phrase." Harry smiled a little sheepishly. Hermione nodded.

"I know what you mean."

"Well there are. I mean, look at my mum and my Aunt Petunia. Both from the same gene pool, both very different. And I don't just mean the magic thing."

"That's true."

"There's good and bad in every family, Hermione. Those few were pretty bad, it's true. But that's because they were weak."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that being good is hard. Being bad is a whole lot easier."

"We must choose between what is right and what is easy," Hermione recalled.

"Exactly. And I don't know anyone stronger than you," he told her. "You're good Hermione, you're good and strong and you're like Ruairi and your great-grandmother. Not like those weak-willed people who had their heads turned by power. Power isn't everything. Blood isn't everything. You're descended from this fantastic Ruairi bloke it's true, but you earned your place in the Order. You. Not because you're related to him but because you deserve it."

Harry paused for breath, taken aback by his own speech-making. Hermione sniffed.

"You must think I'm so stupid," she mumbled.

"No I don't," he said, hugging her again, trying not to notice that her hair smelled of raspberries and that his heart had started racing. "You couldn't be stupid even if you tried. Everyone has doubts, you know. Even the great Hermione Granger."

"I suppose."

"Will you do something for me?" he asked. She now looked suspiciously at him.

"What?"

"Get some sleep. You look terrible."

"Oh thanks a lot."

"You're welcome. Anyway, you get to miss Arithmancy tomorrow so we can practice transfiguring in daylight. Remember?"

"Yes," she said, mustering a smile.

"That's another thing," he said, remembering more of their earlier conversations. "The phoenix wouldn't have chosen you if you weren't good, would it? Did it choose any of those bad guys?"

"No," she admitted, feeling quite a lot better now. She managed a smile for him. "Night Harry. Thank you."

"You're welcome of course. Sweet dreams."

***

The three new animagi were quite eager to get to their transfiguration lesson the next morning. They each wolfed down their breakfasts, despite Hermione's concerns that they'd get terrible indigestion. They then followed Professor McGonagall down the transfiguration corridor, way past anywhere they'd gone before. She opened a door and they followed her through.

"Where are we, Professor?" the ever-curious Hermione asked.

"Staff quarters, Miss Granger," she replied shortly. The three looked around curiously, but the corridor seemed like just any other corridor in the school. She led them right down to the end of the corridor and opened another door. This door, however, led outside.

It was unlike anything they'd ever seen at Hogwarts in the last seven years. In fact, all three of them were certain that these were the most beautiful gardens they'd ever seen. The garden was a quadrangle within the castle, and Harry suspected that all the windows overlooking the garden from all sides were staff quarters, because he'd never looked out of a window in the school and seen this. It was quite a large garden, considering it was nestled within the castle. It was filled with beautiful, colourful plants of all descriptions, some magical, some not. The lawn was perfectly manicured and springy underfoot.

"This is Professor Sprout's pride and joy," said McGonagall. "She took it on after the previous Herbology teacher retired and she spends all her spare time here. None of the windows are of classrooms, so we are quite safe from intrusion here."

"But what if..." Ron looked quite concerned now. "What if we break the plants? I mean, I'm a tiger. I bet they do a lot of damage to roses."

"We won't be gambolling about like sheep, Mr Weasley," said the Professor. Ron actually looked a little disappointed.

"Is Sirius joining us?" asked Harry. McGonagall shook her head.

"Professor White has a duelling lesson to teach. Now, I want you to transfigure in a moment. Try and hold your form as long as you can."

The three each did so, a lion, a tiger and a phoenix replacing the three seventeen year old students. Ron was the first to resume his human form, followed by Harry. Hermione was able to hold her form for a few more minutes, before slumping onto the floor. They looked impressed.

"Honestly," she said, standing up with help from Ron. "What do you think us girls go through each month? This is nothing."

Professor McGonagall nodded in understanding while the two boys looked horrified, their eyes full of newfound appreciation and admiration for the alleged weaker sex. They repeated the transformation again and again, until the three found themselves overcoming the pain as if it were just another Imperious curse to rise above. After about half an hour, they were up to moving about. Anyone looking out onto the garden that morning would have been surprised to see a lion sniffing the blue roses appreciatively, a tiger rolling around in the soft grass and a phoenix perched at the top of the highest tree.

"You've all done very well," McGonagall said as it was time to leave. "We will meet on Thursday evening and go out into the grounds. It should allow you to stretch your legs. Or wings, as the case maybe."

"Thank you Professor," Harry said as they headed back into the school.

"Oh and don't bother trying to find the garden again. We teachers value our privacy too dearly," she said, a twinkle in her eye.

***

"Harry, do you have your copy of Fantastic Beasts with you?" Hermione asked as they settled down in History of Magic.

"Somewhere," he said, rifling through his bag. He pulled out a very worn copy of Newt Scamander's life work Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.

"Thanks," she said with a tiny smile.

As Professor Binns began his hourly drone, she opened the book and began reading. Both Harry and Ron were scandalised. Hermione always listened in class, even in this most boring of classes. They all attempted to pay attention to Binns, but as Dean Thomas' head fell onto his desk, so too did Harry Potter's attention wane. He instead found himself captivated by the girl sitting next to him, despite his attempts to focus on anything else. She was leafing idly through the book as if she had something specific in mind but wasn't hurrying to it. Hermione-watching was far more interesting than goblins and Oddballs, he thought. He rested his head on his arms and feigned sleep so he could watch her unnoticed. He watched as she did all those things so quintessentially Hermione: lip biting, eyebrow furrowing and everything else. He watched as her brown eyes darted from word to word, page to page.

Then he suddenly remembered a Care of Magical Creatures lesson sometime in October. He had been listening to Hagrid's excited lecture on dragons, and had been idly doodling across the page as he was wont to do. He watched nervously as Hermione flicked through the book, past Clabberts and Crups... There it was, just above the listing for Romanian Longhorn: I LOVE HERMIONE. He'd clearly spent quite some time on it too, for the letters were all quite exact and well-written. He'd forgotten about it until now. Still pretending to be asleep, he watched for her reaction.

She blinked once and turned the page. Either she didn't notice, which would've been hard considering how large he'd written it, or she chose to simply ignore it. But he did notice that she suddenly stopped idly flicking through and headed purposely to the page she required. He wasn't surprised to see her stop at the listing for Phoenix and begin making notes about it.

"Potter!" Binns suddenly called. "Your thoughts on the 17th Century Witch burnings?"

"Uh...." Harry sat up straight and realised everyone was looking his way, hoping for an answer. He hadn't done the reading and so had no idea what he was meant to be saying.

"Well, Professor... They were born out of fear and paranoia from Muggles. They had no idea what was really going on because the magical and Muggle worlds had been separate for so long... Uh... I think a few Muggles in power used that fear to prey on less powerful Muggles and the... Um... burnings say more about the Muggle state of affairs at the time than the magical state of affairs..."

There then followed an uneasy silence as he wondered if he'd make a complete arse of himself or if he'd somehow stumbled onto the right answer.

"Quite right Potter!" said Binns happily. "Clearly some of us have done the reading!"

Hermione looked up from the book with a slightly amused 'no you didn't' expression, before turning back to the page she was so engrossed in.

***

Hermione was quieter than usual that evening, to the point that even Sirius and Maura were asking what was wrong. She duelled without enthusiasm or interest of any sort, and Harry and Ron would've confronted her about it had they not been interrupted.

It had started off quite simply with Professor Dumbledore and Remus Lupin turning up during the duelling lesson to speak to Sirius. This in itself was not unusual- Sirius was often summoned away somewhere for one reason or another. But this time was unusual. With Dumbledore and Remus was Narcissa Malfoy. Sirius listened to Remus' quiet whispers with a look of horror, then he, Remus and Narcissa went off down the hall. He didn't even pause to look back at his students. Dumbledore looked solemnly at Maura.

"Miss Kennealy, you can be sure that Lucius Malfoy does not know your identity."

"What?"

"The two he mentioned in the kidnap were Harry and Ron. Mrs Malfoy has kept your secret well."

"What did he do to her?" asked Harry in a voice full of quiet fury.

"Mrs Malfoy has come here for protection. She will be safe here," said Dumbledore, neatly sidestepping the question. Then he too left the room. The four of them exchanged worried looks.

"She took a beating or two to keep your identity secret," Harry guessed. Maura looked mortified.

"For me?"

"Looks that way."

"There's probably other stuff to it," added Ron. "I mean, I bet she wasn't thrilled to hear old Lucius' plans to make his son a Death Eater."

"I can't imagine that Lucius was ever very kind to her. This may have been her excuse to get out at last," finished Hermione sadly. "But I think we're probably done here."

"Good," said Harry quietly. "I want to go to the library."

"I'll come," offered Ron, but Harry shook his head.

"No, I'll be fine." He then shot out of the room. Ron and Hermione shared a worried look.

"What's the matter with him?" he asked. "Come to think of it, what's wrong with you?"

"Nothing's wrong with me," said Hermione, immediately on the defensive.

"Yeah right," snorted Ron. "Do me a favour will you? Whatever's going on or not going on with you and Harry, sort it out. I'm getting tired of all these mood swings the both of you are having."

Hermione looked as if she'd just been slapped. Tears brimmed at the edges of her eyes.

"It's not my fault, Ron," she whispered before bolting out of the room. Maura cocked an eyebrow at Ron.

"Well Ron, I never thought I'd say this, but that was even more cack-handed than I would've managed."

"I didn't mean... Oh bloody Hell! They're driving me crazy," he said with a frustrated sigh.

"They're driving everyone crazy," Maura said. "They'll battle it out soon enough."

"No they won't," he predicted. "I know them. They'll both bottle it up and do nothing."

***

Doing nothing had been Hermione's plan at first, but when she found herself in the library, she decided to throw caution to the wind and confront Harry. He was sitting at their usual table, huddled over a book. When she got close enough, she realised he was reading about lions.

"Hello Harry," she said, sitting opposite him. He grunted a reply before beginning to write feverish notes on a sheet of parchment.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" she asked.

"Not right now, I'm busy," he mumbled. She sighed.

"Don't bother trying to drown your sorrows in work. It doesn't work. I speak from experience," she told him. He made no response, instead he kept writing furiously. She sat silently for a moment watching him.

"I know why you did it, you know."

Harry looked up.

"Did what?" he asked cautiously, not wanting to know the answer.

"I know why you broke up with me," she said. His eyes widened for second, but his poker face was back in place quickly.

"I told you why," he said quietly.

"Oh I know the reason you gave me. I also know why you really did it," she said. He had resumed writing and she was now beginning to get irritated with him.

"Harry, are you listening to me?" she demanded. He kept on writing. She grabbed his quill out of his hand, but his grip was tight. It snapped with a sickening crack. It was the quill she'd bought a year ago for his birthday- a rare eagle feather with a gold nib. It had been a replacement for the one before, which she'd also bought him. He treasured the quill and was rarely seen writing with anything else. Her eyes widened in horror.

"I'm sorry, Harry! I didn't mean to... I'm sorry."

The tumult of emotions Hermione had been dealing with all day now overcame her. Just as she'd bolted from Ron and Maura, now she ran away from Harry.

***

He sighed very heavily once she was out of the room. Did she really know? Was he really that obvious? Did she hate him for it? Why had she just run out? A million and one questions all jostled for pole position in his head, and he had no idea where to begin. Added to that, Hermione had just broken his quill, so he couldn't finish the notes he'd been writing about lions. He'd got the idea from her of course, and had wanted to strike while he was inspired enough. Unlike the phoenix, which was a magical creature, much of the information on lions wasn't much use- he didn't need to know how lions lived alongside other lions, because he didn't intend to live anywhere near any real lions unless he bought a house overlooking London Zoo. For the same reason, he had no desire to know how they killed their prey and ate the meat raw. So with a heavy sigh, he gave up and went to the common room.

Ron was there, challenging one of the Fifth Years to a game of chess. Every Gryffindor bar Hermione was in the common room.

"Hey Harry, how are you?" Colin Creevey was at his shoulder.

"Hi Colin," he said blandly. "Seen Hermione?"

"No, sorry. Are you ready for the Hufflepuff game next week?"

Harry had, for once, forgotten all about Quidditch.

"Oh, yeah," he said distractedly. "Ready as ever."

"That's great," started Colin. But before he could continue, Harry was off talking to Ginny.

"Ginny, have you seen Hermione?"

"Saw her disappear up to the dorms about five minutes ago. Everything OK, Harry?" she asked.

"Oh, fine."

"I know something's going on, you know," she said. "You all keep disappearing and missing classes. And that mysterious girl..."

"I don't have time to talk now Gin, I'm sorry," he said apologetically before heading up to his own dorm. It was deserted- everyone was down in the common room. He flopped onto his bed and sighed.

Every day since he had broken up with Hermione had been harder than the day before. The dull ache hadn't ebbed away with time as he'd hoped. Instead, he just seemed to feel worse. He supposed it didn't help that he had to pretend to be just friends with her when all he really wanted to was take her in his arms and not let go ever again. He had hoped in a way that she would hate him, because that would make it easier to deal with. Instead, Hermione had taken it with dignity and had determinedly stayed his best friend.

Then after about twenty-five minutes brooding, there came a knock on the door.

"Yeah?" he asked in a voice that, to him, sounded positively suicidal. The door opened, and in came Hermione.

"Hello," she said. "I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't handle myself very well. I seem to be all over the place lately."

"It's all right Hermione, honestly," he managed, sitting up. She hovered uncertainly by the door for a moment before moving over to him.

"I um... Got you something," she said, holding out a brand new quill. It was a bright scarlet feather, with the slightest hint of purple at the end of the feather. The nib was a finely crafted gold specimen made in London by Monkthorpe & Sons Quillmakers (Since AD 1123)- the kind his eagle feather quill had.

"What?"

"Well, I broke your other one, and I know how much you liked it. So... this is its replacement."

"Where did you get this from?" he asked incredulously, examining the bright, beautiful feather.

"It's a, uh, phoenix feather."

"A phoenix?" he asked. She nodded. His eyes widened as he considered this further. Unless she'd just gone and plucked a feather from Fawkes, there was only one place this could have come from.

"Hermione..."

"Don't Hermione me," she said. "It didn't hurt, and it was a spare nib I had. It's the least I could do."

"No Hermione, the least would be getting me a normal quill. This is above and beyond... It's beautiful."

"I know you like phoenixes," she said. "And nobody else in the world has a quill like this. See the purple at the end? That's how you can tell a phoenix animagus from a real phoenix. Only phoenix animagi have the purple at the tips of their feathers."

"I wondered what was different when I saw you transform," he said. "Are you sure it didn't hurt?"

"It was quite hard at first to try and get it, not being used to having a beak, but it didn't hurt," she said with a smile.

"Thank you. It really is beautiful."

"That wasn't all I came to do," she paused. "I meant what I said earlier, about knowing why. But what I should've added was that I understand. I understand why you did it. I personally would've gone with the straightforward truth, but I forgive you."

"Hermione..."

"No, it's OK," she insisted. She leaned down and kissed him gently on the cheek. Then she turned to leave. As she got to the door, he spoke.

"I do love you, Hermione."

"I know." Then she was gone.

***

The atmosphere the next day was a strange one. Ron was worried that he'd really gone too far with Hermione, Harry was wondering just exactly how Hermione felt and Hermione herself was wondering what had got into her lately.

Just as they thought it couldn't become a stranger day, Draco Malfoy sat down at the Gryffindor table at dinner's end.

"Malfoy!" called Ginny sharply. "What do you think you're doing here?"

"I'm not here out of choice, Weasley," he said acidly. "I need to speak to Potter. Do you have a problem with that?"

"What's the matter, Malfoy?" asked Harry before a full-scale war could erupt.

"I need to speak to you,"

"Yes, you said that. Care to be more specific?"

"Well, I didn't intend to speak to you here in front of everyone."

"Is it embarrassing, Malfoy?" put in Seamus.

"You'd hope so," added Dean. Draco merely glared at them, but it was the sort of glare that makes lesser men crumble.

"Fine," said Harry, increasingly concerned about the possibility of bloodshed. He got up and followed Draco out of the Great Hall and into a quiet corner of the Entrance Hall.

"Is this about your mum?" asked Harry.

"How did you know?" demanded Draco angrily.

"I was there when she arrived. So were Ron and Hermione."

"Oh. Did anyone else see?" he asked. Every shred of sarcastic arrogance Draco had ever summoned was gone now, replaced by raw fear. Harry was surprised to realise that it was not fear for Draco himself but for his mother.

"I don't think so. Maura was there too... Dumbledore came to get Sirius and they took her somewhere. I don't know where."

"Oh."

"What happened, Draco?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen her yet. My father sent about fifty owls this morning demanding to know if she'd sent word."

"What did you say?"

"Nothing, yet. When I asked, Professor Snape told me that my mother saw Dumbledore and that she was safe. But I don't know anything else. And frankly Potter, I'm at a loss for what to do."

"Did you think of going to see Dumbledore about it?" asked Harry.

"No."

"Well, it might be a good start."

"Don't take that tone with me, Potter."

"Well, it is rather obvious," said Harry, trying to stifle laughter.

"Wouldn't you panic if it was your mum?" Draco snapped. Harry's eyes darkened, but his voice remained calm.

"I wouldn't know, Malfoy. It's never been a problem for me."

Then Harry turned and walked back into the Great Hall.

The conversation preyed on Harry's mind for the rest of the evening for two reasons. Firstly, it had only served to remind him what it was like to grow up without parents and secondly, he worried what Lucius Malfoy would do in response to his wife's disappearance. He found out soon enough, too.

***