Harry Potter and the Psychic Serpent

"Well? Why did you give that photograph to Harry?"

Hermione had been a wreck all through Potions after the photograph of her in the bikini had been passed around. But now it looked to Harry like she was back to herself; he could almost see the wheels spinning in her brain as she prepared to answer.

"I didn't!" she cried. Harry opened his mouth in shock. This he was not expecting.

"What do you mean, you didn't? That was your handwriting on the back. I'd know it anywhere. And what did With love from Hermione mean?"

"Oh, for pete's sake, Ron! Have you--" she turned to Harry "--or you ever received a card or letter from me that wasn't signed that way?"

Ron was clearly thinking about that. "No, I suppose not. Still--"

"Anyway, all I wanted to say is, now I know what happened to that photo! I've been missing it since last summer!"

"What?" Ron and Harry said together.

"See, I had a pile of photos, and I thought I'd send one to Harry with his birthday card and present, so I chose this nice shot of the three of us in front of the house where we were staying on Corfu--really amazing, it was built right into the hill, steps going up to the top carved right out of the--"

"Hermione!" Ron interjected.

"All right, all right. I had a couple of copies of the photo I was actually planning to send Harry. I turned over one of them and wrote on the back. Then I did a few other things: wrapped the present, wrote out the card. When I came back to the photo, I thought it felt a little thick, and I discovered that there were two stuck together. I pulled them apart and put the one I'd written on inside the birthday card. I suppose I never looked at the front. I just assumed it was the one I'd selected. I was in a hurry. We were running late. I sealed the envelope and got everything ready to send by owl post. Snuffles helped. I only missed the photo Harry has much later; I assumed I dropped it somewhere. Then, after Bulgaria, worrying about where it was didn't seem to be important any more."

Ron looked like he acceded this point; some things did pale in comparison to being kidnapped by dark wizards. He turned to Harry.

"So why are you still carrying it around?"

Harry swallowed. They had been planning to tell Ron, and now Hermione was lying to him. Should he tell the truth? Harry wondered. He looked at Hermione. Would she ever forgive him if he did? If he told Ron now that they were a couple, chances were it wouldn't be true in about ten seconds...

"Ron," he said, having made his decision. "When I got the birthday card, I opened it and that fell out. Dudley picked it up and started--reacting to it. Then he asked me if she was my girlfriend. Well, I was so sick and tired of that from the year before--you know, Rita Skeeter and all--so I just grabbed it from him and told him no, she wasn't my girlfriend. My potions text was on my desk; I just opened it anywhere and threw the photo in and slammed it shut. I never looked at it. Today was the first time I'd ever actually seen it."

Ron looked at them through narrowed eyes. "So you're saying that you didn't know you sent it to Harry," he turned to Harry, "and you never looked at it?"

"That's right," Harry said, while Hermione nodded, her face grim. Ron looked skeptical. "Because if you two were--you know--you could tell me. I'm not a baby. I could take it."

Harry's throat felt tight. We should have told him! He looked at Hermione. Now. Now. Let's tell him now! he thought.

But Hermione laughed. "Oh, Ron! We know you're not a baby."

"It's just that--you seem to spend a lot of time together, and--"

"Well, we go running in the morning, sure, but we'd be with you more if you weren't seeing someone, so that mostly leaves just the two of us. Not that we begrudge you spending time with Parvati," she said a little shakily. "But--well, we do kind of miss you."

He smiled now at both of them. Harry felt dreadful. "You're right, I haven't been around much. What say we all go down to see Hagrid after classes today, like old times? I was going to spend some time with Parvati, but I'll make an excuse."

Harry smiled feebly. "Sure," he said, sounding more sure than he felt. He started to hoist his rucksack onto his shoulder when Hermione stopped him.

"Harry, now that I know where that photo has been--could I please have it back?"

He stopped in shock; he put down the bag and burrowed in it to find where he'd stashed the photograph after Snape had handed it back to him. He gave it to her and she thrust it into the pocket of her robes. She donned her own bag again and turned her back to them, heading up the marble stairs.

"Come on, you two! We're already late for Charms!"

Ron clapped Harry on the shoulder as they started to follow her.

"Hey--sorry about all that. Just me being stupid."

No, thought Harry. Just you being spot on.

"S'okay," Harry said indistinctly as they followed Hermione up the steps.

After Moody's class, they took their books back to the common room, then went down to Hagrid's hut (after Ron spoke to a disgruntled-looking Parvati for a minute). He was delighted to see them and started getting the tea things ready as soon as they were in the door. Hermione helped him, getting out the milk jug and some cups and saucers while Harry and Ron set out plates and checked Hagrid's pantry cupboard for the least rock-like cakes and biscuits available.

They all sat down to eat and drink their tea, laughing merrily about Hermione's inability to not reel off the history of the English and tea or Harry's and Ron's inability to correctly judge the right moment to start drinking, inevitably getting burned tongues with the first sip, resulting in slightly lisping speech for a while.

Then they settled down and looked at each other seriously. Harry raised his tea cup and the others followed suit.

"To Neville," he said quietly.

"To Neville," Hagrid, Ron and Hermione responded, clinking teacups with Harry and each other. They all drank, then continued with quieter conversation. When it was close to time for the evening meal, they cleared up the tea things and prepared to go back to the castle.

"Coming to dinner, Hagrid?" Hermione asked him. But suddenly, Harry realized he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Hagrid eat a meal in the Great Hall.

"Nah, I--I have other plans," he said dodgily.

Harry said, "Oh, going to see your mum?"

Hagrid nodded. "How could I not? Ye know, now that she's here an' all, after all this time..."

"Of course you should go eat with your mother," Hermione said with feeling.

"I do kinder miss the meals in the Great Hall..." he faltered, looking at them guiltily. "The elves do sech ripping puddings..."

Harry smiled at him. "Any time you want us to nick you something from the kitchens, just let us know. We're happy to."

"Definitely," Ron agreed. Hermione made a face at him.

"You just like the house elves waiting on you hand and foot..." she said just a touch snidely.

"What's wrong with that?" Ron sounded defensive.

"Say, Ron," Hagrid interrupted. "Ain't yer birthday comin' up soon?"

"On the fifteenth."

"That's only a week away! Tell yer what, we'll have another nice little party here like fer yer sister, and ye won't have to worry 'bout folks surprising ye 'cause I'm telling ye now."

Ron shrugged. "Sounds good to me. That was great cake we had for Ginny's party."

"I'll get Biddy to make the same again, if you like," Hermione said.

"Sounds like a plan," Hagrid said, showing them to the door. "Thanks fer comin' ter tea."

"Give your mother our regards," Harry said as they were leaving.

"I will!" He started to go, then opened the door again. "Say--you three haven't seen something flying round the school groun's lookin' a lot like a golden griffin, have ye? Mum insists one was flyin' over the giants' camp a couple of times, but I don't see how. I mean, they don' like this part of the world; Dumbledore had that one brought in special..."

Ron and Hermione both looked at Harry, who looked very guilty.

"Uh, no," said Ron. "It was probably something else. I mean, what are the chances?"

Hagrid laughed. "Yer right, Ron. Only--it's hard to tell me mum she's wrong 'bout anythin' when I been waitin' so long ter see her. Nex' time she mentions it I'll jest change the subject."

"Good idea, Hagrid," Harry said shakily. They all said goodbye to him and he shut the door. They looked at each other and heaved a collective sigh of relief. They started walking back to the castle.

"What have you been doing, Harry?" Ron wanted to know as they walked. "Buzzing the giants?"

"No, just practicing my flying, so it feels more natural."

Ron stopped and stared at him. "What's that like?" he asked softly, sounding a little awed. "Flying under your own power, no broomstick?"

Harry looked over Ron's shoulder at the evening sky, at the pink-tinged clouds scudding low over the tree tops on the horizon. "It's like--a dream. You know, the kind of dream where you imagine you can just lift up your arms and fly. Only--I'm not asleep..."

Hermione grimaced. "For me, it was more like a nightmare..."

Ron laughed. "So, not going to try out for the Quidditch team openings next year?"

Hermione smiled sarcastically. "Very funny."

They started walking toward the castle again. Ron looked like he was thinking about saying something, then hesitating, then finally coming out with it. "Tomorrow morning, do you think--"

"What?" Harry said, lengthening his stride to match Ron's long legs.

"Could I come running with you two?"

Harry stopped now. "Running? You?"

Ron looked down at him, obviously offended. "Yeah. What's wrong with that?"

"Aren't you the one always calling us mad for getting up early to run?"

Ron looked slightly embarrassed. "Parvati's been telling me I'm too skinny," he said quietly. He glanced at Hermione, then back to Harry.

Harry shrugged. "Sure. We do warm-ups at six-thirty."

"Six-thirty!" Ron made a face. Harry laughed.

"Or," Harry said, "you could use an engorgement charm on your muscles and wind up looking like the Incredible Hulk."

"The what?"

"Sorry. Muggle comic book. Was a television show for a while."

Ron shook his head, and they resumed walking for a few more paces, but then stopped again when they were right outside the doors to the entrance hall.

"Harry," Ron said slowly. "I just wanted to say again--I'm sorry for the way I reacted this morning. You know, about that photo..."

Hermione jumped in, a nervous quaver in her voice. "Well, honestly, Ron, you could have used your brain! If Harry thought that a picture like that were in his potions text, do you really think he would have given the book to Neville, especially when he was working right next to Malfoy?"

Ron looked at her with a strange expression at first, then began laughing. He shook his head and put his hand on Harry's shoulder.

"She has a point, Harry. Even you aren't that daft..."

"Ha ha," Harry laughed unenthusiastically.

Still laughing, Ron entered the hall, Harry and Hermione behind him. Harry frowned at her; this was getting worse and worse, he thought. Ron's going to feel like a complete idiot when he eventually finds out. Harry hadn't been with her for almost a month, but he was starting to feel like it would be worth it to lose her by telling Ron the truth. Although then he would probably lose Ron too, and no longer have any best friends...

Promptly at eight o'clock, Harry reported to Snape's office. He went in through the classroom this time, rather than the secret entrance. Everyone knew he had detention, there was no point in sneaking around.

The door to the office was open, but he closed it upon entering. Snape was grading essays; he put the one he'd just been marking on a large pile to his left, then grabbed one of the two to his right. He was almost done. He didn't look up or say anything to Harry, who went wordlessly to the wing chair by the fire and sat to wait.

When Snape put the last essay into the pile of graded parchments, he looked up at Harry. "The headmaster and Professor Moody will be away for a few days next week, from the fourteenth to the sixteenth. Defense Against the Dark Arts classes will be canceled and Professor McGonagall will be in charge of the school," he said tonelessly. Harry swallowed.

"Why will they be away?"

"Avery's and Nott's trial. Moody's doing preliminary testimony on the fourteenth, the actual trial is on the fifteenth, and, if necessary, the sixteenth will be used for jury deliberations. Unless they simply come back with the verdict on the fifteenth, and frankly, I don't see how they can take more than a few minutes to decide this one."

Harry nodded. "Won't Lupin have to testify too?"

"Remus doesn't signify. Moody left him out of his report. He's unofficial. For that matter, Moody made out he was just visiting the village for the day, having a drink, when his magical eye allowed him to see what Avery and Nott were up to. And since you came along after the fact, Dumbledore convinced the Ministry to leave you out of it, too."

"What will happen to them if the verdict doesn't go their way?"

"They will go to Azkaban, although their sentences may be light due to the cushioning charms preventing any dire injuries."

"You say that like Moody should have let people get hurt to get the Death Eaters in trouble for doing something worse."

"No. But there are undoubtedly things that they have done that are worse, that had worse consequences. Things we may never know about."

Harry nodded. He couldn't see them getting much for blowing up a pub that fell like pillows upon the people within. Maybe they'll have to make restitution to Madam Rosmerta, he thought. Do wizards have lawsuits? he wondered. He realized he was dreadfully ignorant of wizarding law.

Suddenly, Sirius' head appeared in the fireplace. "Harry! Thanks for getting him here, Severus. How are you, Harry?"

He smiled at his godfather. "Fine." His voice shook a little; he was actually not feeling particularly well since he and Hermione had told Ron what he now thought of as The Great Flaming Lie. Rather like The Great Fire of London. Which, he felt, would prove to be the lesser disaster by the time this was over. His stomach had been in knots all day, not particularly helped along by the stale biscuits he'd had at Hagrid's, plus Hagrid telling them about his having been seen flying by the giants.

"Are you sure?" Sirius seemed to see something in Harry's face which disturbed him. Harry looked at Snape in desperation.

"I'm afraid I rather embarrassed Harry and Hermione in class today. Purely for the purpose of giving him a detention, to get him here at this time. I'm sure he'll get over it." He looked at Harry with one eyebrow raised, and Harry knew he'd better get over it now. He smiled feebly.

"I'm fine. Just--like he said. A bit embarrassed," he told Sirius, who smiled sympathetically.

"Severus has to worry about his reputation, you know, Harry. You're mature enough to understand that."

"Why did you need to talk to me, Sirius?"

He sighed and looked as if he'd rather be kissed by a dementor. "Harry, I know you won't want to hear this, but--I want to pull you out of school for the rest of the year."

"What?"

"Hear me out. I said that I want to. I'll give you my reasons in a moment, but if you don't want to, that will be that. But I want to tell you my thinking first. Please?"

Harry nodded, his throat tight. Whatever it was, it had to be bad for Sirius to want to take such a drastic step. "Lucius Malfoy is getting very aggressive about recruiting younger people for the Death Eaters. Percy Weasley has been targeted."

"Percy!"

Sirius nodded. "He received an owl post last night. He is to report to Knockturn Alley next Saturday to meet someone who will take him to another location to hear his answer. There's no chance of replacing him with an operative in disguise--since our little debacle on Christmas night, the Death Eaters are doing elaborate tests now to ascertain the true identity of anyone attending a meeting. If he goes and agrees, he gets the Dark Mark and becomes a Death Eater; if he goes and refuses, he gets killed. If he doesn't go--"

"What?"

"Well, we know of two families already that have been destroyed because a young man and a young woman who recently graduated from Hogwarts were being recruited. They aren't even bothering with torture first, to coerce them. Just one chance is being given. One was a girl who finished the same year as Percy, Penelope something..."

"Penelope Clearwater?"

"Yes. Did you know her?"

Harry swallowed. "She's Percy's girlfriend. Last summer, Ron told me they were seeing each other again. What happened?"

"Well--" he sighed. "She received the letter, same as Percy. But she didn't tell anyone. Just panicked, then locked herself up in her flat when the time came and quietly killed herself. Left a note explaining why."

"No!" Harry felt tears streaming down his face. He remembered Penelope, in her black robes and prefect badge. She had been petrified by the basilisk at the same time that Hermione was. Percy was probably devastated, and now he was also being recruited.

"That's not all. When she didn't show, Malfoy sent Death Eaters over to her parents' house. They were all killed. The Dark Mark was over the house. We don't know who did it precisely. Mother, father, grandfather and a little brother. There was a big age difference between him and Penelope. He would have started at Hogwarts next year. Memory charms specialists eradicated witnesses' memories of the Mark. The Ministry is still determined to cover up Voldemort's return to prevent panic. I say, sometimes it's appropriate to panic..."

Harry was crying freely, hearing of the destruction of the Clearwater family. "Who else?" he choked.

"A young man who was actually a Slytherin. Used to be captain of the Quidditch team. Marcus Flint."

"Flint? Flint refused to become a Death Eater?"

Sirius shook his head. "You can't judge a wizard just by his house these days, Harry. Evidently he was quite a good Quidditch player, got a job as a reserve player with Pride of Portree, the team over on the Isle of Skye. The Prides are very good, have a very loyal following." He bowed his head. "All the poor kid wanted to do was play Quidditch, you know? His own dad is a Death Eater, turns out. He went to Skye, where the team was having practice, and tried to bring his son to Malfoy. Wound up killing him instead. There were witnesses. He's gone underground; there's a manhunt on now for him, but the Daily Prophet won't have anything about it until tomorrow morning--this just happened last night--and I'll bet you they just depict it as a family squabble or something. Trouble is, because Marcus didn't show up, some Death Eaters went over to the Flint house and his mum and a houseguest staying there are dead now. Malfoy didn't know Marcus' dad was going to try to fetch him to comply. Obviously the elder Flint knew what would happen if Marcus didn't. Now he's on the run from Malfoy and Voldemort and the other Death Eaters as well as the Ministry. And I thought I had it bad...of course, I didn't kill my own son while trying to convince him to become a Death Eater, so I'm not going to waste any time feeling sorry for him."

Not that it did Karkaroff much good to run from Voldemort, Harry thought. He took a deep breath. He removed his glasses, wiped his eyes with his sleeve, then replaced them. Even the families of Death Eaters weren't safe. He realized that Draco Malfoy had had no choice but to get the Dark Mark on Christmas night. Otherwise, he too would probably have been killed by his own father. He thought of poor Marcus Flint, whom he had never liked, but who had stood up to his own father and refused to be a Death Eater, and died because of it. Somehow, he thought, people had to find out about what really happened to him. People had to know what really drove poor Penelope to kill herself, and who killed her family, who fired the Dark Mark over their house, and the Flint house.

"Percy," Harry said with a shaky voice. "What's he going to do? And--what about the other Weasleys?" He felt like he was going to throw up. He thought of the Burrow with the Dark Mark over it; he thought of Bill, tall and handsome and laughing at the ceilidh; he thought of Charlie with the dragons when he'd done the first task at the tournament the year before; he thought of the twins and Ron and--

And Ginny.

"Why don't you have Lucius Malfoy yet?" he demanded, practically sobbing it. Sirius heaved another great sigh; he had dark circles under his eyes, Harry noticed.

"It's not for lack of trying, Harry. Our operatives know Malfoy is doing these things, but we don't have any solid evidence to nail him. The Ministry is being very pigheaded about wanting to find benign, non-Voldemort-related explanations for everything that's been happening."

"When they thought you'd killed that street of Muggles and Peter Pettigrew, they just hauled you off without worrying about evidence."

Sirius grimaced. "Those were different times. And it's quite possible that even if a pack of Aurors swooped down over Malfoy Manor this second, all they'd find is an apparently respectful wizarding household with old money, maybe a few more Dark Arts artifacts than there should be, but nothing connecting Lucius Malfoy to anything illegal. He's covered his tracks well, has Malfoy. Quiet a puppeteer."

Harry tried to regain his composure, only partly succeeding. "Why do you want to take me out of school? Shouldn't you be worrying about Percy and the Weasleys?"

Sirius looked at him, not speaking. Harry looked back at him, then turned to Snape, who looked grimmer than Harry had ever seen him--and that was saying something.

"What?"

Sirius began to speak slowly. "Harry. Brace yourself. One of our operatives saw a piece of owl-post being prepared that you should receive tomorrow morning. It will be a letter in a black-bordered parchment envelope. With a wax seal shaped like the Dark Mark." Harry sucked in his breath. "Yes," Sirius nodded at him. "It's official. You are being recruited."

His head was swimming. "How long will I have?" he choked out.

"I don't know. Percy received his letter last Saturday, so he'll have two weeks total. I rather get the impression they may accelerate your--schedule."

"But even if you take me out of school, what good will that do? What about Ron and Hermione? Won't they still be in danger? And then there's the whole Weasley family..."

"So you won't leave Hogwarts?"

"Leave? It's safe as bloody houses here, Sirius. We should move the whole Weasley family in to protect them. And what about the Grangers? Are they still safe?" He saw Sirius look toward Snape. Harry turned to him.

"I assure you that the Grangers are perfectly safe and that no one save I knows where they are," Snape said softly.

"You?"

"I am their secret-keeper."

Harry's jaw dropped open. They were hiding using the Fidelius Charm, and Snape was their secret keeper! Well, Harry thought, certainly no one would suspect Snape of being the person to fill such a role.

"Percy has met with Dumbledore," Sirius told him. "If your deadline falls after his, he is willing to get the Dark Mark and go undercover for us. Considering that he's probably grieving for Penelope, I think that's a very brave thing to do. He is, of course, concerned about protecting his family. The question is, how soon will Malfoy want you to decide..."

Snape stood and walked to the mantel. "Harry can come here after breakfast and before class tomorrow morning and we can call you and discuss it once we know what is in the letter. Perhaps Percy Weasley can contact Malfoy, indicate that he will comply, take care of it sooner than next Saturday."

Sirius looked like he was thinking about that. "Seems risky. Malfoy might suspect he's up to something. He likes to control the schedule. He'll be suspicious of someone like Percy wanting to move up the date for his getting the Dark Mark."

Harry's hands were shaking. It was all happening too fast. He'd wondered for months when Voldemort or Malfoy would make their move, and suddenly they were, and he wasn't prepared. He didn't even feel sane. He felt mostly like collapsing into a puddle on the floor. Then he had a thought. It formed in his mind slowly, then took full form and became an actual plan.

"Harry?" Sirius said. "You look odd. Are you all right?"

"Malfoy."

"Yes, Malfoy's doing all this, we just can't prove it..."

"No. I mean Draco Malfoy."

"Draco Malfoy?"

"Well, you know he's been trying to figure out a way to catch his dad in some act that will get him put away in Azkaban for a very long time. I need to talk to Malfoy--to Draco, that is, and get him to fix the schedule. You're right, Percy asking to get the Dark Mark early would be suspicious. If he does go undercover, he shouldn't look too eager. But Draco Malfoy could tell his father that there's a particularly opportune time to come and get me...only it would be a trap."

"I forgot about Malfoy's son....And he certainly wouldn't want his dad to harm Ginny's family, from what you told me of those two. Well, he certainly has the motivation to keep the Weasleys safe. The question is, can he do it? Will his dad listen to him?"

"That's what I don't know."

Sirius sighed again. "I think the first thing we have to do is see what's in your recruitment letter tomorrow."

Harry nodded. Snape looked down at Sirius' head in the firebox. "Will that be all, Sirius?"

"That's all for now. Good night, both of you. And Remus says hello. Talk to you tomorrow."

"Good night, Sirius," Harry said softly before his head vanished. He looked up at Snape. The Grangers' secret keeper. He'd had the thought before that he should have been his parents' secret keeper. He hoped the Grangers would be all right...and the Weasleys.

Snape looked back impassively. "I've more essays to grade, Potter. Move along with you. Get back to Gryffindor Tower."

Harry nodded and went to the door. Then he remembered something and stopped, turning around. "Oh--if anyone asks what I did for detention, what should I tell them?"

Snape sat at his desk and looked thoughtful. "Tell anyone who asks that you had to chop roots or something for my stores. Surely you can think of something?"

Harry nodded; Snape was on edge. Perhaps he was remembering being recruited by Malfoy during his seventh year.

"Good night, sir. And--thank you."

Snape whipped his head up; his dark eyes shone in the candlelight. He looked surprised, and--Harry was having a hard time identifying the emotion--touched.

"You're welcome," he said evenly. "Good night, Harry."

Harry turned and left, closing the door behind him. He was climbing the marble stairs leading up from the entrance hall when he stopped and realized that Snape had called him "Harry" when talking to him and not about him for the first time. He smiled to himself. Snape was starting to grow on him. He and Sirius didn't even trade gibes any more; they were perfectly civil to each other, even when making suggestions for action on which they didn't agree.

He continued up the stairs, wishing he could use a Time Turner to go back to the morning, again and again, live this day over and over, never having to go forward, never having to get to tomorrow morning's owl post and a certain black-trimmed parchment envelope...

The next morning, they walked considerably more slowly back to the castle after Ron came along with them for his first run. The warm-down exercises had helped Ron somewhat, and he was able to imitate the pull-ups Harry was doing under the Quidditch bleachers, but he wasn't succeeding in hiding how winded he felt as he walked beside the two of them, while they were breathing normally and looking quite refreshed from the run. Ron tugged ineffectually at the heavy front door to the castle, then stepped aside as Harry pulled on it and it pivoted open.

Then Harry, Ron and Hermione stopped dead; Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were loitering idly near the foot of the marble stairs. Funny, Harry thought; first time I've seen all three of them together outside class for a while. He wondered whether the two large boys had already been recruited. Malfoy looked up with an evil grin when he saw the three of them, then he primarily focused on Hermione in her running clothes. Now that it was warmer, she had gone back to using a running bra and very tight bicycle shorts. After almost a year of running practically every morning, Harry thought she looked more incredible than ever, and Malfoy was registering this on his face also. I wish Ginny could see that, he thought. Then Malfoy's evil grin shifted to the exhausted Ron.

"So! Weasley! I saw that you got a real good look at that photo. Commit it to memory? Because I know that I can conjure it up in my brain--" he tapped his temple "--any time I want. And Potter, well...of course he can picture even more any time he wants..."

Harry froze at Malfoy's words and looked at Ron, who was turning red. If he thought Ron didn't have the strength to attack Malfoy after the morning run, he got rid of that idea as soon as Ron dove at Malfoy. He grabbed him by the upper arms and pushed him up against a wall. Crabbe and Goyle started after him, but Harry pulled his wand out of his sock and pointed it at each of them in quick succession, putting the Impedimenta curse on them. Now they were both still heading toward Ron and Malfoy, but very, very slowly, so that their movements were indiscernible.

Malfoy swallowed while up against the wall with Ron inches from his face. "What did you have to do that for?" he said to Harry.

Harry gave him a lopsided ironic smile. "Yeah, I suppose slowing those two down is kind of redundant, isn't it?"

Hermione guffawed, and then after a moment Harry joined her. Harry had not told them about the post he was expecting; he had tried to be cheerful all the previous evening and all morning, not letting on that anything was wrong. Ron was still looking very serious. He told Malfoy, "Harry and Hermione are friends. Not that you'd understand being friends with a girl. You think they're only good for one thing."

"What would you know about my personal life? And remember--your sister is my friend. So if what you're saying is true, I should be seeing a lot more action from your sister than I have been...oof!"

Ron brought his knee up into Malfoy's groin; Harry flinched involuntarily. He thought he would probably react that way even if it were Voldemort getting a knee in the groin. The very thought was just too...

"You don't talk about my sister! And you don't talk to my sister, ever again, you dirty, slimy little snake..."

Harry heard Sandy hissing at him, but he was distracted, so he asked her to repeat what she'd said. Maybe it was important, something that was about to happen in the entrance hall...

"I said, tell your friend that snakes are some of the cleanest creatures there are," she said with an injured tone to her voice.

Ron whirled on hearing Harry speak Parseltongue, and then hearing Sandy's hissing. "What is it?" he wanted to know. "Is she--?" Ron looked at Malfoy, whose arms he was still holding against the wall; he didn't want Malfoy to know about Sandy's Sight.

"Nah, it's not that. She's just--a little upset about what you said. She wants you to know that snakes are actually quite clean."

"Oh. Can you tell her I'm sorry?"

"He's sorry, Sandy," Harry hissed to her.

"I heard him. We're also not slimy," she hissed with that hurt voice again.

"Yes, yes," Harry said a little impatiently. "He's very sorry, Sandy."

Malfoy scowled. "Do you wear that damn snake all the time, Potter?"

Harry scowled back. "Do you wear that face all the time, Malfoy?"

Even Ron laughed now, stepping back from Malfoy and letting him go. Malfoy rubbed both upper arms simultaneously. Harry, Ron and Hermione walked up the marble stairs together.

"Hey!" Malfoy called after them. They turned; he stood at the foot of the stairs where Crabbe and Goyle were still making infinitesimal progress toward where Ron had been back when Harry had put the curse on them. "Aren't you going to do anything about them?"

Harry looked back and forth between Crabbe and Goyle, who looked like very ugly statues. "I see no difference." He smiled at Ron and Hermione, who were laughing again, and they continued their progress up the stairs, hearing Malfoy behind them saying, "Finite Incantatem!" to remove the spell from his companions. Harry still felt heavy-hearted, but he did his best to put on a cheerful face, he laughed with the others while feeling hollow inside. The three of them going running together was a good idea. He was glad Ron had joined them; he felt like they were pulling him back into the fold. Perhaps when they did tell him about their relationship, he really would be okay about it...and hopefully, he could find a way to convince Malfoy to accelerate the schedule for putting his father away.

Harry was having trouble eating his breakfast. He kept looking at the food on his plate, thinking, This is my favorite breakfast, but he couldn't eat a bite. He looked up at the open windows just under the enchanted ceiling, showing a pleasantly blue spring sky with a few fluffy white clouds scudding across it. Finally, it happened; one small dark owl flew in a window, then several more owls fluttered in, then all at once it was the usual storm of wings and feathers and packages and scrolls of parchment, as the messengers winged their way toward their destinations. Then Harry spotted a falcon, not an owl, carrying a large crisp parchment envelope edged with black. Here it comes, he thought, his heart in his throat. But it didn't; the falcon swept over to the Ravenclaw table and dropped the envelope in--Roger Davies' hands. Harry opened his eyes wide. Maybe it hadn't been Roger sending the school owls to Draco Malfoy before, but he was certainly being recruited now. This was getting worse and worse. He looked at Roger's face; he was sitting next to his brother Evan, who seemed to be asking him about the mail he'd received. Roger shrugged and shoved it into his rucksack, evidently planning to read it later. Perhaps, Harry thought, Sirius' intelligence was wrong and I'm not the one being recruited today. We need to help the Davies family, Harry thought, before they all get killed...

But suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his right shoulder; it was another falcon, digging his talons in (Harry was sure he'd drawn blood) and then dropping a large cream-colored parchment envelopment with a black border on his lap. Harry winced again as the bird dug its claws in even more to prepare to take off again. Harry didn't watch it go; he looked down at the envelope.

He broke the black wax seal, taking note of the image of the serpent and skull that had been pressed into it. Then he opened the large creamy envelope and pulled out a heavy piece of parchment. There were only ten words on it.

Harry looked around. Everyone seemed to be too busy to take any notice of him. Hermione was reading most of the Daily Prophet, except for the Quidditch page, which Ron was perusing. Will was wolfing down his food hurriedly as usual. Ginny had her nose in a book, while next to her, Amy and Andy bickered good-naturedly. Colin Creevey was talking football to his brother Dennis, and Harry saw with interest that Jules Quinn was staring at Dean Thomas' sister Jamaica (who was very pretty, Harry thought, even at eleven). Ruth Pelta was asking Zoey Russell about their Arithmancy homework, and Fred and George and the other seventh years were talking about the upcoming N.E.W.T.s.

Harry surreptitiously pulled out his wand and said softly, "Harry Potter."

The words on the page disappeared. New words slowly formed in place of the earlier instructions.

Then this message too faded. The parchment was blank. Then the original message slowly reappeared, looking as if it had always been there.

Harry looked up at the staff table. He met Snape's eye. He met Dumbledore's as well. The headmaster nodded at him. Snape rose and went to the door to the secret passage. Harry put the letter in his rucksack and stood, swinging it on his back.

"Tell Hagrid I'll be a little late," he said to Ron, striding out of the Great Hall before Ron could answer. He practically ran down the steps to the dungeons.

Snape's office door was open. Harry walked in, not waiting for an invitation, then closed it, also not waiting to be told. He took the letter out of the bag and laid it on the desk blotter. Snape read it in a quick glance, then looked at Harry. He took out his wand and touched the page.

"Harry Potter," he said in the closest thing to a normal voice he could muster, considering how unnerved he felt. The ten-word message disappeared once more and the page was blank. Then, slowly another message appeared.

You have been chosen to serve the Dark Lord. Be in the Hogwarts library at six-forty-five on Friday evening. Come alone. You will receive further instructions at that time. Touch your wand to this parchment when you are done reading and say your name once more.

Snape stared down at the parchment. He drummed his fingers on the desk impatiently. Then he threw his hands in the air. "Gah! How long do we have to wait for another message to appear?"

Harry looked down at the parchment. "What do you mean?"

"What do you mean, 'what do you mean?'" Snape asked, then looked slightly embarrassed by how silly that sounded. "It's still blank. How long do we have to wait for a new message?"

Harry looked down at the parchment, then back up at Snape. "It looks blank to you?"

Snape looked jolted. "It doesn't look blank to you?" he asked Harry, then looked down at it again.

"No," Harry answered. "It says I'm supposed to be in the school library at six-forty-five tomorrow night to get more instructions."

"It does? Is that all?"

"Well, it also says I've been chosen to serve the Dark Lord and to touch my wand to the paper and say my name again when I'm done reading it."

"It must be charmed so that only you can see it once your identity is verified...well, do it. Touch it again and say your name; let's see what happens."

Harry touched the letter with his wand and said his name again. Immediately, black flames arose from the letter and envelope, consuming them both. Not even ashes remained to show that they had ever existed. Even the wax seal was gone. The parchments that had been sitting nearby on Snape's blotter were unharmed; the blotter itself was not scorched either.

"Well," Harry said, staring down at the desk. "There's not much to tell Sirius, is there? I'd better get to Hagrid's class. Perhaps you could call Sirius for me?" Snape nodded and moved to the fireplace. Before he left, Harry remembered Rogers' letter. "Professor--" he said suddenly, turning back. "I almost forgot. It looked like Roger Davies also got a letter. It was also delivered by a falcon."

Snape, if possible, looked paler. "You didn't say yours was delivered by a falcon. Lucius Malfoy keeps falcons. He's recruiting our Head Boy while he is still in school?" He rubbed his hand over his chin, frowning, deep in thought. "I'll talk to the headmaster about keeping an eye on him."

"And his family," Harry said. "They'll be in danger."

Snape looked levelly at Harry. "Only if he refuses." Harry swallowed. Snape said that as though it were unlikely.

"Are there Death Eaters in his family?"

"Not that I know of. I just--have a bad feeling about Davies."

"What about his brother Evan? Do you think they'll try to recruit him too?"

Snape shook his head. "Too young--"

"He's in fifth year, like me and Draco Malfoy. And he's a prefect too, and an even better dueler than Roger."

"You and Draco Malfoy are in the Prophecy. That is different."

Harry nodded, accepting this. "Well, tell Sirius I'm sorry I missed him. We're reviewing the last three years of Care of Magical Creatures for the O.W.L.s, so I'd better go now--"

"Don't--" Snape said abruptly. Harry jerked his head around. "Don't tell anyone about that letter. Anyone."

Harry nodded. He meant Hermione. And Ron too. He wondered whether Snape suspected how deeply involved he and Hermione had become. Then Harry remembered Snape looking at the photograph from Corfu. He probably suspected. For Harry, it was actually becoming a bit of a dim memory. It was as though he'd dreamt it all...

When he reached Hagrid's hut, the fifth year Gryffindors and Slytherins were seated on benches laid out in a semi-circle before Hagrid's garden, taking notes about unicorns and hippogriffs. Harry tried to catch Draco Malfoy's eye before sitting down, but he wasn't looking in the right direction. He took a seat between Ron and Hermione which they'd saved for him. He listened dimly to the things Hagrid said; only doodles seemed to come out of his quill. Mostly he looked back and forth between Ron and Hermione. He hadn't told Snape or Sirius, but he had already decided, like Percy, that he would do whatever was necessary to ensure their safety. Even--

Getting the Dark Mark.

Harry walked to a table in the far corner of the library and sat down. He checked his watch. It was six-thirty. He'd eaten dinner quickly, then slipped away and run up the marble stairs to the library. The day had lasted forever. First there was Potions, with Snape throwing him worried glances and Hermione giving Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy the evil eye whenever they started ogling her, which was far too often for both Harry and Ron. They were still needling her about the photo; Neville had apologized to her for handing it to Malfoy in the first place, but the damage was done.

Charms was wall-to-wall O.W.L. review, and Harry was pleasantly surprised by how many spells were second nature to him now, especially after he'd absorbed so much for the Triwizard Tournament and now the Dueling Club. But he couldn't help stealing looks at Flitwick, still wondering who'd put that spell on the Charms doorway.

He could barely choke down lunch, and then Transfiguration was more review, and Moody's class was also. This was a little more difficult, though, since they hadn't had the same teacher the whole time, as they had for the other classes. Hermione was the only one who knew anything about werewolves, Moody discovered, and nothing particularly useful had been learnt from Lockhart during their second year. For reasons Harry understood all too well, Moody didn't even want them to use the Lockhart books for reference, which they could have done, Harry thought. Even though he hadn't banished any banshees himself, Lockhart had quite accurately written down the methodology used. Harry thought he might refer to the books anyway, without telling Moody. He could skip over the self-aggrandizing bits. After all, he'd already paid good money for the books, and there was information in them he'd need to know.

Harry looked around the deserted library. It was six-thirty-five. He was on the verge of going into spasmodic table-drumming mode if someone didn't show up soon. He reached out toward the shelves nearest him and pulled a random book down. He flipped open the cover and started to read, just for something to do. The book was, not coincidentally, about dark wizards and some of the things they'd done. Harry opened the book in the middle and started reading.