Harry Potter and the Time of Good Intentions

Harry stared up at the ceiling of the infirmary. His mind was racing like a rocket, zooming all over, throwing out more ideas and memories than he could process. He took a deep breath and tried to focus on one memory. There; he had it. He was getting the beginning of the autumn term back....

They were in Greenhouse #6, for the most advanced students. Only sixth- and seventh-years used this one. The plants were more dangerous than those in the other greenhouses, and, in some cases, more likely to be used in dangerous potions or salves the knowledge of which was restricted to older students or even, sometimes, professors.

The sixth-year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs had been assigned to prune night-blooming plants called Flowering Giant Tarragon (

Erechtheus dracunculoides giganthes) which were slumbering nicely and had all of their spiny, white mouth-like blooms closed, as it was the middle of the afternoon. Harry was very uneasy about the possibility that the eight-foot-tall plant he was sharing with Ron might be sentient, and hoped the pruning wouldn't waken it from its nap. It's just like getting a little haircut, he thought of saying to it, should it become aware of what they were doing. (Could the thing understand English? he wondered.) Except that it was more like a multiple amputation.

As they pruned the extra growth, they had to use their wands to quickly cauterize both the stump on the plant and on the piece they'd trimmed, as Professor Sprout was putting the pruned bits into a crate to be delivered to Madam Pomfrey after the class. The ends of the pruned pieces needed to be cauterized to keep the sap from pouring out, which was very similar to the most corrosive stomach acid and extremely valuable for a variety of potions with medical applications. It was also used for etching runes into obsidian--for making valuable protective amulets--and as one of the ingredients in Wolfsbane Potion, as were many other nocturnal plants. Ron was wearing dragon-hide gloves that would be impervious to the acid, should any fall on him.

Harry eyed the large closed blooms nervously as he worked; he was very glad he was not required to be present at midnight, which was when they opened. Professor Sprout had said you could set your watch by it. Some of the seventh-years had to come late at night to feed the plants, when they opened. They were said to spit their acid at the creatures (freshly-slaughtered game killed by Hagrid) that were brought for them to eat, and their "meals" would start breaking down before they were even gathered inside the spiny-toothed maws. They were supposed to be especially aggressive during the full moon, when the seventh-years would leave the food at around eleven o'clock and run swiftly back to the castle before any blossoms opened prematurely. Harry was starting to miss the Blast-Ended Skrewts, and wondering whether he could drop Herbology and take up something nice and safe like Ancient Runes. (Alas, he knew he couldn't drop it; it wasn't an elective.)

Next to him, Ron was holding a machete-like knife at the ready while Harry held his wand poised to do the cauterization. Since one didn't want to use the non-dominant hand for either the knife or the wand, it was a two-man job. Wands didn't work very well in the left hand if you were right handed, and Harry shuddered at the thought of a greenhouse full of people using the machete-sized blades with their non-dominant hands.

SWISH! went Ron's blade. Harry was already pointing his wand and now he cried, "Kauterion!" He moved the wand quickly to the plant stump from the amputated section, the arc of crackling light following, as he made sure the cuts were thoroughly sealed. In moments it was as though a hot iron had seared both. Harry ended the spell and the plant flinched. His stomach clenched nervously, ready to lunge out of the way should it awake....

He noticed Ron smirking at him. "Scared?" Harry wanted to hex him.

"You're not?"

Ron shrugged. "It's just a flower. A really big flower, but a flower."

"I don't know many flowers that could eat me for breakfast. Just don't wake it, all right?"

Ron laughed, then dropped the cauterized stem into a basket, the knife hanging easily by his side. "You are scared."

"Yeah, well, it's well known that stupid people don't have the sense to be scared by dangerous things...." he retorted, starting to get angry and trying to rein himself in. But Ron laughed.

"If that's the kind of thing you said to Dudley much, no wonder he beat you up constantly when you were kids...."

That was it. Harry didn't care if Ron was holding something that could skin a hippogriff alive. He pointed his wand at him, shaking. "You do not mention him, ever. Do you hear me?"

Ron looked surprised, then grimaced. "Right. Sorry," he said quietly, looking genuinely contrite. Harry backed off, lowering his wand. He was surprised Ron apologized so quickly. He had made a careless remark about Dudley--something he'd done many times before the previous June, with impunity--not thinking about how guilty Harry still felt about his death. It had been less than three months. They had both carried the coffin on their shoulders to the graveyard. Ron had been my friend then, Harry thought. What was he now?

They continued working, an unspoken detente between them. At length, Harry noticed Ron looking at where Hermione was working with Neville, wielding her wand expertly while Neville, in his own expert way, cleanly cut the extraneous growth from their plant. Ron wasn't ogling her; instead, he seemed to be checking that she wasn't checking on them. He said quietly to Harry, "I have an idea for Hermione's birthday present. Something we could get her together."

Harry looked up, startled. Together? It was Thursday, and Hermione's birthday was Monday. He hadn't thought of anything at all, and if he didn't agree to go in with Ron, he'd probably be empty-handed on Monday. Reluctantly, he asked quietly, "What is it?"

Ron told him what he wanted to do; Harry immediately knew it was perfect, but inside he was seething that he hadn't thought of it. He swallowed. "Why couldn't you do it yourself? Why include me? I mean--I'll do it, but I'm just wondering--why?"

Ron shuffled his feet a little. "Pigwidgeon is hopeless for anything big. And you know these school owls. They're almost as bad, some of them. I know of one that might be able to handle part of it, a large eagle-owl that likes to sit up in the very top of the Owlery. But we'll need to use Hedwig, too. Between the two of them, they should be able to get it here all right. I don't want to ask someone who's not used to owls to handle more than two, though. They'll have a hard enough time getting Hedwig and the other owl rigged up with the package."

Harry pondered this; it was true. He looked at Ron suspiciously again.

"What made you think of this?"

He shrugged. "Oh--just something Hermione said at my house--" He stopped, turning red, and Harry thought he might be remembering their row. He knew that he was. They went back to work.

After class, Ron said to him hurriedly, "Right; I'll write two letters and send them off, one with Hedwig and one with the other owl. I'll tell them to--to send it to Hagrid! That way it will go down to his hut, and Hermione won't spot it. It would look damn suspicious if it came to one of us in the Great Hall during breakfast. She'd be sure to figure it out."

Harry didn't respond as Ron ran down to Hagrid's hut excitedly; he watched him go, wishing he could bury his pride and have their old friendship back. It didn't help that Ron was the one who'd thought of the perfect gift for his girlfriend. Harry swallowed, then turned back toward the castle, shouldering his rucksack. The other sixth year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs were emerging from the greenhouse now, and Hermione caught him up.

"There you are!" she said, smiling brightly and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. Harry tried to smile back at her, but he had the feeling it hadn't worked very well when she said, "Are you well? You look like you're going to be sick."

He shook his head. "No, I'm fine."

"Where's Ron going?"

"Um--he needs to ask Hagrid something. He'll be along soon."

She nodded, linking her arm in his and putting her head on his shoulder as they walked. She seemed to be oblivious to the rift between him and Ron. "What do you want to do now? We have a couple of hours free before we eat." She gave him a sly smile which he didn't return. He was in a bad mood and wanted to wallow in it; he wasn't appreciating her efforts to cheer him up.

"I need to read for Lupin's class," he said curtly, speeding up, forcing her to quicken her pace and take her head off his shoulder.

"Oh," she said simply, looking a bit deflated.

"But--but I have to go talk to him first. I'll see you in the Great Hall."

"All right," she said, looking disappointed. They'd reached the entrance hall. She kissed him on the cheek again and went up to Gryffindor Tower, while he took the stairs to Lupin's office. But even as he was about to knock, he knew he didn't want to speak to his professor. He was beginning to feel weary of the bad mood; the urge to wallow had passed. Now he wanted to feel light and free, as he hadn't in ages.

Light.

Free.

That was it! He sprinted up the numerous stairs to the Astronomy Tower, which would be deserted at this hour. He raised the trapdoor and stepped out onto the stone flags paving the observation deck, looking to the west, where the sun was getting lower in the pink-tinged sky, and to the east, where he would be going, toward a sky that was already periwinkle-blue shading down to sapphire. He looked up; the evening star, Venus, already shone brightly in the velvety, cloudless sky.

He smiled and sighed. It was perfect flying weather. He closed his eyes, letting the change course through him, feeling the familiar wrench of his bones changing shape, a pain that had become so familiar he was numb to it now. It was just part of the process. He gazed out over the landscape, preparing to spread his wings--

"Aaah!" He turned, then immediately reverted to his human form, collapsing onto his stomach. He looked up, swallowing.

"Ginny! What are you doing here?"

She stood near the open trapdoor, her mouth hanging open. "I--I--I left my notes up here last night--" she stammered, walking to the west parapet to retrieve the worn leather envelope which bore the stamped initials V.A.W. and the Gryffindor seal. She opened the flap, withdrew a parchment, then nodded and put it back in the envelope. He'd seen her with her notes many times, but he hadn't notice the tanned leather case when he'd arrived on the observation deck.

They looked at each other awkwardly. "Well," Harry said at last. "I--I was going to try to go for a little flight over the forest before dinner. I need to unwind. Stuck in the greenhouse all afternoon." Stuck with your git of a brother, he kept himself from saying.

She nodded. "It's just that--I've never seen you--seen you do that before. I mean--I heard about it. You told all of us; but while Draco and Ron and Hermione have seen you--"

"Right," he said, nodding. "You haven't." He shuffled his feet awkwardly. "Well," he said, breaking the silence. "Here I go."

She nodded, and he executed the change again. He was looking up at her from slightly higher than her waist, his eyes level with her lower ribs, and she advanced toward him uncertainly. When he felt her fingers combing through his mane, and heard her sigh of satisfaction at the softness, he couldn't stop the rumbling purr that always moved through him from growing even louder. As she continued to move her hand he thought he might very well lose his Animagus form from sheer happiness; she rubbed her warm palm down his flinching, muscled back, her fingers trailing onto his flank. She seemed to have forgotten it was him, Harry Potter, and not an actual golden griffin she was petting.

His hide twitched under her touch, and he backed away from her slightly, trying to maintain his composure, before spreading his wings. The sight of them made her gasp; they absorbed and transformed the rays of the sun, low in the sky as it was, producing rainbow colors on their translucent surfaces.

"Oh, Harry," she breathed, awestruck. He stepped up on the parapet and leapt into the sky, moving his wings slowly as he built height, soon finding himself over the forest. He felt the exultation in his chest, the sensation that he could touch the sky, as he banked and turned, as he soared on a thermal of warm air. There was nothing like it in the world, not even flying on a broomstick, and as he flew, he felt his cares drop away, and nothing mattered now but the beauty of the setting sun and the lights starting to glow in the castle windows, and the delighted expression of Ginny Weasley, watching him return to the tower where she waited for him yet, her face aglow.

He landed lightly and folded his wings against his flanks again, looking up at her. The wonder in her eyes made her look more beautiful than he'd ever seen her, somehow. The setting sun had set her hair afire, and her dark eyes seemed to burn into his. She stepped toward him, smiling uncertainly, stroking his fur again as though rewarding a pet for performing a trick, but he didn't mind; he closed his eyes, relishing her touch, knowing that the moment he reverted to his human form she would back away from him. As long as he remained a griffin, he could have this closeness, and she wouldn't think it odd or awkward....

Oh, dear, he thought, as she continued to pet him just as if he were her cat. I can't take much more of this....

He waited for her to move her hand back up to his mane, a fairly neutral sort of location, before he changed back. He had had his head in her lap as she knelt on the deck, and now he crouched beside her, his human head in her lap, while she continued to run her fingers through his hair. He could feel the warmth of her thigh under his cheek, through her clothes, and each time her fingers combed through his hair, his chest hitched; did she realize what she was doing? He felt like he had goose-pimples all over his scalp, like electric currents were emanating from her fingertips. He turned over, looking up at her, wrapping his hands around her wrists to stop her from putting her fingers in his hair again. It was too much. He felt like he would go insane if she continued. She looked down at him without any surprise, as though she imagined she was still regarding a griffin. When he slowly released her wrists and he sat up, she reached out and removed his glasses from his face. He held his breath, wondering why she'd done this.

But she simply said, "You're as bad as Percy and my father. How you can see anything when these things are so filthy is beyond me." She took out her wand and touched them briefly, uttering a simple cleaning charm, and returned the glasses to him. He was sitting up now, his legs folded economically. He replaced the glasses on his face, thanking her. The strange moment that had seemed suspended in time, when she'd been running her fingers through his human hair, had passed. Neither one of them commented on it. Instead, they sat close together, not touching, watching the deep blue creep from the eastern horizon, above them, and finally, down the western sky like a blanket being drawn gently over the world.

"Why are you and Ron angry with each other?" she said suddenly, still gazing at the sky. He turned to look at her profile. He hadn't been expecting that. Evidently, unlike Hermione, she wasn't oblivious to the difference in his friendship with Ron. He returned his eyes to the sky again. Somehow, he didn't feel like making up elaborate lies. He would tell her exactly what was what. It would be a relief to talk to someone objective about it.

"He told me I should break up with Hermione," he said simply. That startled her.

"What? He said that?"

"Yes. Because he says we're not in love with each other."

"He said that?" She sounded more hacked off now than Harry was. She crossed her arms, frowning. "Oh, like he knows. I'm sorry, Harry. I had no idea."

"No--it gets even better." He paraphrased for her the reasons why Ron speculated Hermione might have been with Harry to begin with. Her jaw dropped in disbelief.

"He said that?" she said again. "He actually said that?"

"Yes."

She shook her head, looking at the sky. "Well, no wonder you're hacked off at him. I don't blame you a bit."

He drew his mouth into a line. "Well, yes, I do think I'm somewhat justified. For someone I'm pretty sure is in love with Hermione, he had some pretty unflattering things to say about her."

She looked at him, alarmed. "Oh. So you know how he feels about her?"

He grimaced. "Well, I haven't exactly been living in a cave for the last three years, Ginny," he said, feeling slightly insulted.

"I'm sorry, Harry, of course you haven't. I just mean--well--did you think that's how he felt about her when you and Hermione--I mean--when you started sort of seeing each other?"

Harry sighed and looked away. "Yeah. And Hermione said--" He paused. What had she said.? Ron is an immature git. Don't get me wrong; I love him like a brother....I just cannot believe the way he acted about the Yule Ball, even now. The way he finally asked me--if that could be called asking me. Hermione, you're a girl....How flattering for him to notice....I don't think he's going to have a girlfriend for a long time....He's still such a big baby, and won't say how he feels...

"Hermione thought he probably wouldn't be ready to have a girlfriend for a long time, because of not being able to express his feelings....I--I told him she wouldn't wait forever...."

Ginny shrugged. "Well, he seems to be over that. He was with Parvati."

Right, Harry thought. Parvati. Chosen specifically because she wasn't a good friend, so it was a no-risk relationship. Too bad he couldn't stop thinking of Hermione at a very crucial moment....He cleared his throat. "You do know why Parvati broke up with him?"

Ginny blushed and nodded. "Everyone knows that. I don't know if it's Ron who'll never live it down or poor Parvati. And I'm pretty sure Hermione knows--enough people have laughed about it in the common room--but she seems to want to pretend not to know. I'm not sure what good that does."

He shrugged. "I guess she feels protected by pretending not to know. It means she doesn't have to discuss it."

Ginny nodded, then looked at him sympathetically. "I think you want to forgive Ron. But it would mean swallowing your pride, because--because he said some terrible things, and you don't necessarily want to act like he didn't upset you..."

"That's not all. When he was saying these things, Malfoy--I mean, Draco--was right outside the room, listening. He got an earful. He was especially smug about hearing me telling Ron that from now on your boyfriend was going to be my best friend. Looked like he was having a good laugh about it, he was. I was just hacked off at Ron and--and I had to say something. But it just occurred to me--I don't want people knowing what Ron said. It would kill Hermione, that Ron said those things about her. About her motivations, I mean. Could you--could you ask Mal--er, Draco--not to say anything about what he heard? To anyone?"

She smiled and nodded. "Of course." She watched him with an amused light in her eyes. "You're still getting used to it, aren't you?"

"What?"

"Calling him 'Draco.'"

"Oh. That. I'm not used to doing it here at Hogwarts. I kind of got used to it on the job, during the summer. We thought the other lads would think it strange for us to call each other by our last names. Although I didn't have to actually say his name much, not directly. We were all just 'the lads' during the summer. Sam and Dick--er, Aberforth--and the others didn't expect either one of us to behave in a certain way because of what house we were in or anything. It was just about the work. And I have to admit, for a git who's sat on his bum all his life, he actually was able to work when he put his mind to it. I used to think that knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll was a pretty good way to cement a friendship, but planting trees in Surrey might not be a bad way to do it either."

He grinned at her, remembering the satisfaction of stepping back with 'the lads,' looking at a newly-planted allee of trees--similar to the oaks that used to lead from the castle down to the greenhouses--at an estate near New Stokington. In time, the branches of the London plane trees would meet overhead, forming a tunnel over the drive leading from the main road to the manor house on the hill, surrounded by the immaculately manicured home park and backed by a tremendous hedge maze and eighteenth-century-style garden. The only thing bad about that job was that Malfoy had thrown Harry's shirt into the middle of the hedge maze--as a prank--while Harry was napping and sunning himself after lunch, and Harry had had to go into the maze to retrieve it. He'd started to get flashbacks to the Triwizard Tournament and had broken out in a cold sweat. Of course, it hadn't helped that he wasn't sleeping at night. His twenty minutes after lunch every day was all the sleep he was getting for almost two months...

He shook himself and looked at her. "Anyway, I may be getting used to calling him 'Draco' sometimes, but I don't really want him to be my best friend. Ron's my best friend. And even though I really don't want anyone to know what Ron said about Hermione, I think the biggest reason why I'm still hacked off at him is--" He hesitated, unsure how to express it.

"What?" she finally said, after waiting for a minute.

He sighed and looked for Venus in the early-evening sky, burning bright and sure. "I'm afraid he might be right."

"What?" she said, meaning it in a different way this time. "Harry, you don't believe that Hermione really only--er, I mean--"

"No, I don't mean he was right about that," he said, feeling a warmth move up his neck to his face. "I mean--well, you and Draco. I've seen--I mean, heard--the two of you say--er, say--"

"What?" It was starting to sound like the only word in her vocabulary.

"I've heard you say 'I love you' to each other," he said in a rush, before he could lose his nerve. "But--Hermione and I never do that. We never have."

She smiled and laughed, touching his arm in what he assumed she thought was a reassuring and friendly gesture. "Oh, Harry, is that all? You really think that means the two of you shouldn't be together? Not everybody--not everybody says it all the time. I think it's pretty clear that you have--that you have a very deep affection for each other. Don't pay attention to Ron. You make--you make a very nice couple," she said softly, not looking at him. "Ron's just--well, you know how he feels about her--"

Harry nodded. "And it's not as though I can ignore that either. You're right. I did know how he felt about her and I--I went ahead anyway--"

Her hand was still on his arm, and she gave him a friendly squeeze to reassure him. "Harry. Stop fretting about this. You and Hermione are fine. Gracious! You have a lot less to worry about than me and Draco. At least Hermione doesn't have six brothers who'd just as soon eviscerate you as look at you."

He grimaced. "Very vivid, Ginny." And not a bad way to try to get me to stop thinking about you....

She smiled sunnily. "Thank you, thank you."

The dome of blue above them was definitely a night sky now, and not remotely a twilight sky. "We should go down to the Great Hall. After my flight, I could eat a hippogriff," he said, feeling his stomach move within him in a way that had nothing to do with her proximity now and everything to do with not having eaten for five hours. She smiled at him, and then his stomach lurched in the not-food way again. Damn you, Draco Malfoy! he thought. I'm as bad as Ron. I had my chance, and I blew it. Now she's moved on. She thinks Hermione and I make a good couple. We do. We make a good couple. I won't let Ron get to me....

"Flying gives you a good appetite, does it?"

I will not let Ron Weasley get to me, I will not let Ron Weasley get to me....

"Something about the way it feels when the cool air is going through my lungs, I think," he said, trying to carry on a conversation with her and think his new mantra at the same time. "You could have come with me, you know. You could some other time, if you like." He felt his stomach jumping around again. He couldn't believe he'd just dared to say that. Time for a new mantra.

She's Draco Malfoy's girlfriend. Hermione and I make a good couple. She's Draco Malfoy's girlfriend. Hermione and I make a good couple....

"I couldn't have come with you this time, Harry. I don't have my broom with me. But I could bring it some other time, yes."

"I didn't mean flying with me on a broom." He looked at her, waiting for her to realize. When she did, her eyes opened so wide, he thought it made her look about five years old.

"You mean--"

"--as a passenger."

"Oh." She stared at him, then turned her head, biting her lower lip slightly. Harry had to look away from her. She was not making him think of a five-year-old any more. The wind was moving the hair off her shoulders lightly, and he remembered the feeling of her fingers running through his hair again....

"Well, think about it. You might not want to. Hermione hated it. Of course, she hates flying in general--"

"It's not the flying," she said softly, meeting his eyes, then looking away again.

She opened the trap door and started to go down, but turned when he said, "Wait, Ginny." He handed her the leather envelope which held her notes. "You almost forgot this again."

"Oh, right," she said, taking it, looked more than a little flustered now. He followed her down into the castle and they walked down staircase after staircase to the Great Hall without speaking, then sat down next to each other at the Gryffindor table. Both Ron and Hermione looked up when they did. They each looked like they wanted to ask where they'd been. Finally, it was Seamus who did it.

"You two look like you've just come from a tryst in the Astronomy Tower," he said, laughing at their red faces. Seeing their eyes open wide, he dropped his jaw, before saying, "I'm right? You're joking!"

"No!" Harry said immediately, glancing at Ron and Hermione. "I mean--we were just talking. I went up there to--do something else, and Ginny forgot her notes, and--"

Seamus rolled his eyes. "Relax, Harry. Even I know you wouldn't be brainless enough to go after Draco Malfoy's girlfriend, and your best friend's sister, and to risk the smartest witch in the school hexing you," he added, glancing furtively at Hermione. Harry smiled feebly. He tried not to look at Ginny; he rather got the impression she was blushing furiously. He could feel the heat emanating from her.

"My reputation for brilliance precedes me, obviously," he said wryly.

They had a good laugh at that, including Harry (and even Ron, he noted).

I can do this, Harry thought. I can be with Ginny and just think of her as a friend. (Although it would help if Seamus didn't make jokes about trysts in the Astronomy Tower.) He looked at Hermione. Ginny's right; Hermione and I work well together. He tried to give her a feeble smile across the table, but Hermione didn't take notice of this; she seemed to be looking at Ginny strangely during the remainder of the evening meal....

"Harry!"

His eyes flew open. Remus Lupin was striding across the infirmary, looking concerned. Harry sat up. It was so good to see him again! Even though he knew, realistically, that he had seen him the day before for class (he didn't remember the class, but he remembered his timetable now), he felt like he hadn't seen him since he and Jamie had watched the Longbottoms drag him off to the werewolf camp. Jamie. Lupin didn't know Jamie and never would. He thought of what a good honorary-uncle he'd been, bouncing him and Jamie on his knee when they were wee (he winced--I have to stop doing that), reading them bedtime stories when he babysat them, wrestling on the drawing room rug with the twins and pretending they had overwhelmed him, groaning melodramatically....and then mysteriously disappearing several nights a month, until he moved in with them because he couldn't hold down a job in the wizarding world. Sirius would come and stay at Hog's End too, during the full moon, keeping his friend company when he was in his wolf form, although Lupin was actually quite docile at these times owing to his parents' expertise in brewing the Wolfsbane Potion. Harry remembered one time when he was allowed to stroke the wolf's soft fur; the red eyes were disconcerting, but they were still somehow Remus' eyes, and he knew that the potion would prevent him from being harmed. Sirius had slept by his side in dog form. Was that when Sirius and his mother started carrying on? Harry wondered. After Remus Lupin moved in with us and before the Aurors came to get him?

He shook himself. I have to remember things from this life. That's the immediate problem. I can think about processing my memories of my other life later....

He smiled up at his teacher. Lupin patted his shoulder. "I saw you go off with the headmaster after breakfast, and I have a free period right now, so rather than skulk about the staff room, I thought I'd ask him why he was talking to you. He told me you were down here, and could probably use some company. What's wrong, Harry?"

Harry grimaced, not knowing whether Dumbledore wanted the entire world to know what he'd done with the timelines. "I--I'm having trouble remembering things. Things about the last eight months. But Madam Pomfrey gave me some potion, and it feels like it's starting to work. I've already remembered something from way back in September..."

"I see. Why do you think this happened? A curse? A hex? And if so, from whom?"

Harry hesitated. "No, it's not a curse or a hex. I think--I think it has to do with the insomnia I had last summer." That was partially true. He was certain that his judgment wouldn't have been impaired and he wouldn't have done the spell with Voldemort if he'd been sleeping.

"Hmmm," Lupin said thoughtfully, his chin in his hand, as he sat in a chair at Harry's bedside.

"And last night I remembered something from later in September, and Christmas day..."

"Last night? How long have you been feeling this way?"

Harry sighed. "That's not important. I--I talked to Dumbledore about Snape, as well. About what to do about it."

Lupin grimaced. "Sirius and Arabella and the other operatives have been chasing Peter around Great Britain for the last eight months, Harry. What makes you think you can do any better?"

"I told Professor Dumbledore that we should contact Wormtail and offer to trade me for Snape. Except it wouldn't be a trade, not really. It would be an ambush."

His professor was struck speechless momentarily, his mouth hanging open. "What? Are you mad, Harry? Are you sure it's just your memory giving you trouble?" The werewolf looked like he might very well cart him off to St. Mungo's any minute.

"Yes, I'm sure. He's--he's started--started--" He swallowed; he couldn't bear to think of it. From when he was six, he remembered his stepfather running his long, thin fingers wonderingly through his wife's dark red hair as she sat at her dressing table, brushing the tresses that went past her waist....

He shook himself again. "He's started cutting off fingers, Professor," he said, hardening his voice. Lupin's look of horror touched Harry; clearly all of the adolescent animosity toward Severus Snape was purely in the past. He remembered Snape being at Lupin's flat in Manchester the previous Christmas, before he went to the Death Eater's meeting where Draco Malfoy was initiated. Sirius had joked about Snape putting up with socializing with the two former Gryffindors, now his fellow operatives, but Harry imagined it had to be better than spending Christmas alone. Although, perhaps, he might have gone to see his uncle in Dunoon for the holiday....

"Professor MacDermid!" Harry said suddenly, sitting up. "What time is it?"

Lupin checked his watch. "The second bell for the second period is about to--"

Rrrrrriiiiinnnnnggggg!

"--ring," he finished lamely, after the noise from the bell had died down.

Harry realized he must have been oblivious to the first bell while he was thinking about being with Ginny at the top of the Astronomy Tower. He scrambled out of the bed, crouching down to find his shoes under it, swearing softly and then thinking, I will not adopt Draco Malfoy's bad habits. I will not adopt Draco Malfoy's bad habits... But then he said, "Bugger! I mean--brilliant; I'm going to be late again--"

"Harry, you're in no condition to go to class! Get back in bed!"

Harry started pulling on his shoes and tying the laces quickly. "I'm fine. I told you the potion's helping. It will be easier for me to remember things if I'm going through my usual routine instead of lying in bed. Honestly, I'm fine." He sprang to his feet, heading for the door of the infirmary, but then he realized he still had a problem and he turned on his heel, going back to Lupin, who was standing with his arms crossed, a bemused expression on his face. "Professor, I, ah, I could use--"

Lupin reached into his pocket, and amidst red and blue sparks, he took out a small piece of parchment, which already had on it a note for Professor MacDermid excusing Harry for his lateness. He handed it to Harry with a smile, not saying a word. Harry looked at it in amazement.

"Are you sure you shouldn't be teaching Divination? You couldn't be worse than Trelawney."

Lupin laughed, and Harry couldn't help but laugh too; it was infectious. He liked it when Professor Lupin laughed. He so rarely looked anything other than pensive. "I suppose you are feeling better, Harry, to be making jokes about teachers," he said, trying to sound like he was chiding him, but his eyes were still merry.

Harry left, looking over his shoulder at him again for a moment, remembering the thin, defeated-looking man who had been removed from Hog's End and placed in the purple Ministry carriage, to spend years locked up in a werewolf detention camp in the mountains...

He felt satisfied as he walked down the stairs to the dungeons. Remus Lupin would still be in a camp if I hadn't fixed the timelines. He decided to feel good about this, as it was easier than trying to feel good about not having his mother and sister and little brothers....

"Ah, Mr. Potter!" Snape's uncle said as soon as Harry opened the dungeon door and entered. "How good of ye te condescend to join oos!" Harry winced as he walked forward, holding the parchment out to him as though it might explode. Professor MacDermid took it and glanced at it quickly, crumbling it in his hand. Harry shivered under his gaze. He had remembered Uncle Duncan as a far less stern man. But this man was not his "Uncle Duncan." He did not consider Harry to be a member of his family. "Take yer place!" he ordered Harry curtly, clearly looking put-out at not being able to take away house points, since Harry was excused for his tardiness.

He turned and glanced at the other students; the girls had all fixed their eyes on their handsome professor--despite his sternness--with dreamy expressions on their faces. Harry saw now the resemblance to a famous Scottish actor, and he took his place next to Pansy without her noticing. He rolled his eyes. At least he wasn't wearing a kilt, he thought, remembering Hermione's reaction to Snape at the ceilidh. He might very well make all of them faint.

How he got through the class he never knew, since Pansy was in another world, and he felt like Neville's toad could probably outdo him on a potions test, his mind was so addled. The potion was making him remember more things, but now the events were scattered and out of order, confusing in the way they tumbled into his head hither-thither. He tried to clear his head, remember Hermione's birthday....

Hermione was sitting in one of the armchairs near the fire in the common room. Harry and Ron had just walked down the stairs from the boys' dorms, carrying her gift between them. She'd already opened her presents from Ginny and Neville. Her eyes opened wide as they set the brown-paper-wrapped object before her on the floor; they could tell from her face that she knew exactly what it was.

Before she had even opened it, she was throwing her arms around each of them in turn, kissing Ron on the cheek and kissing Harry for slightly longer on the mouth. Then she dove at it, tearing off the paper. She laid it down flat and fumbled at the catches, opening the case, then began to move her hands gently, wonderingly, over the cinnamon-colored cello lying in the green felt-lined case. She removed the bow from its place and found the new rosin that was secreted in its own little niche. She rosined the bow and began to tune the cello, her face glowing the entire time.

When she felt satisfied with the tuning, she played a scale, going up and down, then repeating it, over and over, until finally, Ron said, "You don't just have to play scales, you know. We have some new music for you, too."

She looked up, swallowing. "Really?" Ron drew a large envelope out of his rucksack and presented it to her. She opened it, her smile growing even larger as she raised her eyes to Harry's. "Bach. Unaccompanied cello suites. You remembered I was playing Bach at the ceilidh."

Harry tried to maintain his smile; he hadn't remembered, actually. It was Ron's idea; when he'd written to Hermione's parents, asking them to send her cello, he wanted to know whether they could think of any specific music she might want. When he had their answer, he'd written to Bill and Bill had bought it for him in London. Technically speaking, it wasn't from Harry; he hadn't even known about it, and he tried to hide it now. She pulled Harry's mouth down to hers, parting her lips slightly for a moment, then whispering in his ear, "

I'll thank you properly later," with a sly look that was impossible to misinterpret. Harry looked at Ron, who was looking very pleased with himself. Harry again felt like hitting him.

She spread out the music on a footstool and started to play; Harry tried to forget being upset with Ron and just listened. Her face was amazing to watch; she seemed to go through all of the emotions a human being was capable of experiencing while she played, all very clear on her face, and Harry had the thought that he had never seen her happier since he had known her. In the throes of physical passion, yes, purely happy, no. Not quite like this. Having her cello seemed to complete her in a way that nothing else did. Harry felt his resentment of Ron surface again. He never should have agreed to this, he thought. He should have thought of his own present. He remembered the lion bookends he'd given her the previous Christmas and frowned. If he had bought something himself, he probably would have been upstaged by the cello. He grimaced as he realized that nothing he could have thought of would probably outdo this.

He pretended to feel ill afterward and said he was going to the hospital wing. Hermione wanted to come with him, but he said she should stay in the common room and enjoy her birthday presents. She didn't need a lot of convincing. When he left, Ron was sitting on the floor near her chair, his heart showing plainly on his face; he watched her pleasure as she played, the cello cradled between her legs, and Harry thought he saw her left hand behaving strangely on the strings....He caught Ginny's eye as he left; she was sending a small, pitying smile his way, which was something he did not want to encourage. He was fine; he didn't need pity.

Harry didn't go to the hospital wing, but up to the Astronomy Tower again, taking a short flight over the forest before dinner. Afterward, Hermione didn't come back up to Gryffindor Tower, but it didn't occur to him to wonder where she was; he was simply relieved he didn't have to face her "gratitude" for the present that was Ron's idea.

He managed to avoid her every day after classes were over, and she failed to come to the common room each night after dinner, so he was caught somewhat unawares when she grabbed him by the robes as he was coming out of the portrait hole Saturday afternoon following her birthday, and he had no good excuse when she suggested they go up to Fluffy's old lair....

Harry hesitated for many reasons: they hadn't been up there since the day he'd learned of Dudley's death; she wanted to "thank" him for the birthday present, which hadn't been his idea; and he was still thinking about the things Ron had said about why she was with him. He was determined to come up with a way to get out of this, but as soon as they were in the room alone, lit only by a few candles Hermione had conjured right after they'd entered, she started doing things that drove all thoughts of escape out of his mind....

He lay on the magically cushioned floor afterward, Hermione's head pillowed on his chest while she made little contented noises, snuggling closer against him. Harry's head ached; he felt he'd been unforgivably weak. He should have found a way to avoid being in this situation, but when she had started unbuttoning his shirt while kissing his neck, then moving her hands down his body....

I'm a terrible person, he thought. A voice at the back of his brain answered, For shagging your own girlfriend? When she wanted it? That's terrible why?

Because I should be able to tell her I love her.

Only if it's true, the voice responded. Harry grimaced. It was a good point. To say such a thing and not mean it--that was worse than not saying it at all.

But I mean it, he thought. Don't I? I love her. Yes. Of course I do. This is silly. I shouldn't let Ron mess with my mind. I'll do it. I'll say it.

Silence. Minutes passed.

Here I go, he thought. I'm going to say it.

Silence.

He wasn't sure how much time had gone by when Hermione sat up, saying, "We should probably get dressed and go down to dinner." He drew in his breath, looking at her. Damn. It was so hard not to stare; she was so beautiful, and her continued routine of running in the mornings meant she was in fabulous physical condition now, even more so than when she'd begun the runs with him and Dudley in Surrey. She hadn't a stitch on and looked flawless from head to foot. His breath hitched. Was it any wonder he hadn't pushed her away?

"I, er, um--yeah. We should go downstairs..."

She looked down at his body, smiling slyly. "Sorry. Am I making it difficult for you to want to go?" She had a look of power about her. Harry wished men could better hide when they were sexually stimulated.

"Actually, I am pretty hungry..." He tried to think of other things. Food. That would be good. Think of food. Leg of lamb. He looked at her legs. Okay, bad example, he thought. Melons. Stop! his brain shouted. Really bad example....

He forced himself to stand and started gathering up his clothes. Professor Trelawney. There. That was helping. He continued thinking of the Divination professor, finding that it was very, very effective as a way to shake off the stimulation he had started to feel again. He dressed without looking at her, hearing her moving around, also dressing. Apparently she wasn't put out by his not wanting another go-round. He felt ashamed enough as it was.

Just say it.

As they moved toward the door, preparing to leave, he looked down at her; she was flushed with her fulfillment, her curls beautifully askew on her head, and he gathered her into his arms, kissing her again, feeling her body mold itself to his, her arms binding him to her. When he broke the kiss, looking down at her, he took a deep breath and said, "Hermione."

She looked up at him expectantly. He continued to look at her, his mouth working soundlessly. She laughed after a minute.

"Yes? You had something to say?"

He took a deep breath again. "Hermione, I--I--" He felt like his heart was going so quickly it would leap from his ribcage.

Just say it.

"Hermione, I--I lo--" He stopped.

I should be able to tell her I love her.

Only if it's true.

His mouth worked some more, but nothing came out. She smiled up at him.

"Harry, if we don't go soon, dinner will be over and we'll have to go down to the kitchens for food."

He closed his mouth again and nodded. "Right. We should go." Before he lost his resolve again and ripped off her clothes again, and his....

He looked furtively at where Hermione was working with Draco Malfoy. Malfoy seemed to be taking every opportunity to either look down the front of her robes or drop things on the floor so he could peek at her legs while scrambling around to pick up whatever he had dropped. I wish Ginny could see him at this, he thought. Maybe then she wouldn't think so highly of him. Then he noticed Ron, who had a look of absolute hatred on his face as he ground asphodel root into a fine powder with his mortar and pestle, working next to Millicent Bulstrode. Harry thought the hatred was directed at him at first, which struck him as odd, since he knew that they were getting along better. Then he realized that it was directed at Malfoy; Ron had also noticed the trouble Malfoy was taking to ogle Hermione, and was clearly incensed.

Harry was jolted. Oh, he thought. I'm supposed to be upset that he's looking at my girlfriend that way, instead of thinking that Ginny should see him so she'd know what he really is...

He sighed, going back to work, trying to break Pansy's stare as she gazed dreamily at Professor MacDermid, who was sitting at his lectern on a high stool, poring over his notes for other classes. He put an elbow in her ribs and hissed her name. She shot him a look of death. Harry glanced again at the stern sixtyish man with the salt-and-pepper hair and beard, looking through his reading glasses and frowning, rather than slapping Harry on the back and offering to take him sailing on the Firth of Clyde, as the whole family had done during the summer when Harry was thirteen in his other life....

He sighed. I miss Snape.

Near the beginning of October, he again went up to the Astronomy Tower after classes, as had become his wont, and found that he wasn't alone. Ginny stood looking out over the lawns, sloping past the lake and down to the forest. She whirled when she heard his step on the stone flags, looking guilty.

"Oh, Harry. I--I was wondering whether you might be coming up here to--you know."

He nodded at her. "You know I do this almost every day. Why did you need to wonder?"

She frowned. "That wasn't quite the right word. I--I've been trying to get up my nerve--"

"What, Ginny?"

She took a deep breath. "You mentioned my--my being a passenger," she said in a rush. "I--I think I'd like to try that." She looked as though it had taken every ounce of her courage to say it. He tried not to grin ear to ear. He loved it so much, and while he knew she wouldn't have quite the same experience that he had, not actually being the one doing the flying, he was glad there was someone with whom he could share this.

Hermione had sworn adamantly that she would never do it again, "

Even if I needed to escape from an erupting volcano." Since the Saturday after her birthday, when he hadn't managed to tell her he loved her, he'd seen her and Ron in the common room late at night. He still didn't know where she was going in the evenings, and somehow, his pride prevented him from asking. Whatever it was, as she'd told Ron, she wasn't doing it for him, for Harry. That's fine, Harry thought. I don't expect her to live her entire life around me. But he'd also been unable to forget the way she'd responded to Ron, and the way it had felt to hold Ginny close against him, under the Invisibility Cloak, while they waited to be able to get back upstairs past Filch....

"Are you sure, Ginny?" he asked, to give her an out, if she wanted one. She nodded vigorously. He smiled at her, feeling happier than he had in a long time. He warned her before he did it, then felt the change move through his body, his paws strike the stone, his mane surrounding his head, trailing onto his back; then he spread his wings. She unbuttoned her robe below the waist; she was wearing jeans underneath. When she threw her leg over him, her robes wound up being draped across his haunches. She gripped him tightly with her knees and leaned forward a little, sinking her fingers into his soft mane. He would have gasped if he'd had a human voice box, from the incredible sensation of her body being pressed against him, but all that came out of him was a sound like a rumbling purr.

She whispered into one of his curved ears, turning toward her voice, "I'm ready."

He took a deep breath and stepped up onto the parapet, leaping into the sky. He felt her gasp and grip his mane more tightly still, her knees starting to make his ribs ache. As he moved his wings, he felt her relax a little, although she was still hanging on securely, and after he'd been in the air for several minutes, heading straight over the forest, he dared to turn, going slowly, hoping she wouldn't let go and fall. Her grip tightened during the banking, but he could feel that she'd recovered again and was starting to be more at ease with riding a golden griffin who also happened to be Harry Potter.

As the sun was setting, he came back to the observation deck, landing lightly after spiraling down from high above it. When he landed, she didn't dismount right away. She seemed to be getting her breath still. Finally, she put one foot down and pulled her leg from over his back, immediately collapsing onto the deck. Harry changed back, looking at her anxiously.

"Are you all right? What's wrong? You--you hated it, didn't you?"

She looked up at him, swallowing. "No, Harry! It--it was wonderful. It's just that--that corkscrew spiral at the end....Well, let's just say it's a good thing I haven't eaten my dinner yet."

He laughed then, and she joined him briefly. "Sorry. It's the most efficient way to get down from a considerable height. But speaking of dinner, I'm starving. Do you need a minute to recuperate, or can you walk down the stairs now?"

"I--I think I need a lifetime to recuperate. I don't mean that in a bad way. That sounds bad, doesn't it? What I mean is--I can't believe you can do that whenever you want. You can just--do it. It's so amazing...."

He smiled bashfully now. "I'm glad you could experience a little of it, too. I'll never convince Hermione to do that again."

Ginny nodded, looking down. "How are things between the two of you?"

Harry looked out over the forest. "Fine, I guess. Well, maybe a little awkward. I don't know, really. I'm still trying to figure that out."

She patted his arm. "Well, you do that. When you've got someone to be with, really be with, and they're the one--it's like no other feeling in the world." He looked at her shining face, lit up with the happiness of a girl truly in love with her boyfriend, and Harry's stomach clenched. He tried to smile feebly.

"Yes. I can see that," he said softly, making her color.

She met him several times a week, having to wear progressively heavier clothes as the end of the term neared and the days became shorter and darkness began to shroud the castle even before classes ended for the day. One day, he decided to do something a little differently; when they were flying over the forest, he looked down for fires, easier to see now that it was almost the time of the winter solstice. At last, he was rewarded, and, finding a clearing nearby where he could corkscrew down--she was used to this by now--he 'explained' to her that there was someone he wanted her to meet. She didn't think this was much of an explanation, but when he led her to the next clearing, where the giants were cooking their usual ration of meat and Hagrid's mother was sitting on the ground, industriously sewing brown hides together to make a new cloak, she froze, as petrified as if she'd been looked at by a basilisk.

Fridwulfa looked up, crying, "'Arry!" so loud they had to cover their ears. A moment later, she had tempered her volume, having forgotten, since she wasn't around humans very much. She refrained from picking up Ginny, as she'd done with Hermione, and at length, Ginny felt comfortable enough to sit on the ground next to Harry, talking to Hagrid's mother and admiring her needlework and the beautiful furs she was working.

When he'd flown her back to the castle, she dismounted quickly, sitting down on the observation deck with a thump, breathing as though she was quite winded. Harry changed back and sat, watching her.

"Are you all right?"

She nodded, then stood. Harry stood next to her, then caught her when she wobbled a bit upon taking a step toward the trap door. She fell into his arms, not bothering to back up, but gripping his forearms tightly.

"Oh, Harry. Just when I think you've shown me enough wonders--you go and outdo yourself...."

She looked up at him, her eyes shining in the moonlight, and, not thinking, he leaned down and kissed her. It was over quickly; it was not a lingering kiss. She didn't move afterward, but continued to gaze up at him. Finally, she backed up and brushed her hair out of her face; evidently she wasn't going to comment on being kissed.

"We should probably go down to dinner," she said evenly, as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Harry didn't know whether she simply didn't think anything of his kissing her any more, as though he were just another brother, or whether she was indicating she was all right with him kissing her as something more than a brother. It hadn't been a deep kiss, so he had no way of judging.

But then, at Christmas--he gave her the amulet and she gave it back to him after he told her he loved her. He hadn't meant to say it; he'd thought it would be nice for her to have a remembrance of their having survived the Chamber of Secrets, as he had, but then the words I love you just poured out of him, as they hadn't when he was with Hermione. Then she said his name:

Draco.

He remembered something else from Christmas Day, something that hadn't risen to the surface of his consciousness before: when he emerged from the pantry and was about to go through the kitchen again, Ron and Hermione were there. Ginny must have passed them, he thought. They didn't look like they were expecting another person to come out of the pantry. They were standing very close together, talking softly, and then Ron held something up above their heads; Harry could see that it was a small green sprig of something. Hermione looked up at it, blushing, and then suddenly, Ron swooped down, kissing her. She clung to him for a half-minute before pulling away, beet red. Ron was grinning. She ran out of the kitchen again, laughing, and he ran after her, as though they were children playing a game.

When you've got someone to be with, really be with, and they're the one--it's like no other feeling in the world....

For weeks after the holiday, he went on solitary flights over the forest. He wasn't surprised about this, after her reaction on Christmas day. He no longer went up to the tower every day, as he didn't like flying when it was excessively windy or cold, and especially not when snow was coming down. It was a very snowy winter. Finally, after February had begun, he found her waiting for him at the parapet on an unseasonably warm day. Snow was melting all over the grounds, leaving large messy puddles and soggy patches of loamy ground. When they walked down to Hagrid's for class, or to the greenhouses, they all squelched with every step. Harry didn't see why they couldn't fly their brooms across the lawns when the terrain was so bad, but they weren't permitted to get to classes except on foot. Madam Hooch said it was bad enough trying to control fourteen flyers on the confines of the Quidditch pitch during a match, but she'd need to be called in to do air-traffic control if there were thirty students going down to the greenhouses or Hagrid's cabin and thirty students returning to the castle every period throughout the day.

He almost decided to leave upon seeing her, but she turned and said, "Harry!"

He stopped, his heart turning over. It was too painful to see her like this. He avoided her whenever possible. He tried not to look at her when he was running in the morning (the eight of them used the Great Hall now). If she was in the common room, he read in his dorm or in the library. He sat well away from her during meals.

"What?" he said softly.

"I--I'm so sorry if I hurt you. At Christmas. I miss you, you know. Spending time with you. If we couldn't still be friends, I don't know what I'd do--"

He swallowed and stepped forward. "It's colder high in air than on the ground. Are you dressed warmly enough?" If she was willing to put Christmas behind her, he was too. He knew he was pathetic, to want to be with her no matter what, even when she didn't return his feelings, but he couldn't help himself. He'd found himself on the verge of breaking up with Hermione many times, but the only time they seemed to be able to talk was after they'd slept together, which he avoided until she practically resorted to kidnaping him (he wished he were stronger at these times). And yet, to break up with her after that seemed cruel, as though he were judging her and finding her wanting. Sometimes she had a wistful look on her face, and he wondered whether she wished he were Ron....He wanted to do the right thing, but he was afraid he'd be without both of his best friends if he did....

She confirmed that she was dressed warmly enough and he changed and spread his wings. She climbed onto his back and clutched his mane in her hands, and they took to the air together, Harry's heart feeling like it would burst. They continued to meet again as the days grew longer and warmer and the sun set later and later. They never spoke of Christmas or the amulet, and Harry did not kiss her again.

Sometimes he spiraled down into a clearing in the forest which had flattened grass in it, and Ginny told him the first time they landed there that they needed to be careful because it might be a fairy ring, and if they walked in it, they would be compelled to dance for twenty-four hours straight or until they dropped down dead. Harry walked onto the flattened grass with impunity and immediately started to dance crazily.

"Oh, no! I'm stuck in a fairy ring!" he cried. She looked horrified, standing in the trees still, her hands clutching her cheeks. Suddenly Harry stopped; he had to bend over, laughing. She frowned, striding into the clearing and hitting him on the arm.

"Oh! Don't you do that to me, Harry Potter!" But then she couldn't help laughing too, and after that, they would go to the same clearing and lay down on the fragrant grass, gazing up at the sky. The fairy ring, as they began to call it, became their favorite spot to gaze at the clouds, seeing various shapes in them, and talk to their hearts' contents about anything and everything--except his girlfriend and her boyfriend. And her brother.

On the day before her birthday, he was very late coming up to the tower, and even though the days were now longer than the nights, it was already getting dark.

"Oh, there you are! I thought you might not be coming."

"I was on my way, but Professor Flitwick nabbed me and made me help him; he was teaching the third year Hufflepuffs some beginning dueling charms and wanted me to demonstrate with him. Several of them told him the class should be over, but you know how he is at times--said the class would be over when he said it was over. Can't interrupt dueling, you know." He sighed. "When they noticed it was getting dark, he finally dismissed them--and me. Sorry if I made you wait."

She shrugged. "It's all right. The sky's so pretty right now--it'll be amazing to be up in it...."

He looked at her face, gazing with wonder at the twilit sky. He swallowed, then decided it would be wiser to just change into his griffin form, so he did. They had a glorious flight over the forest, and the sky put on a spectacular show for them. As usual, he went down in the clearing with the fairy ring. They laid on the grass, not touching, staring up at the sky, at the banks of clouds being tinged red and yellow and pink and orange.

"A Blast-Ended Skrewt!" Harry said suddenly, laughing, pointing at a horizontal cloud with what looked like a curled-up tail. Ginny also laughed.

"Professor Flitwick!" she said, pointing at a cloud that looked amazingly like the little dueling maniac.

"The Burrow!" Harry cried, pointing at a motley collection of shapes that looked rather like the Weasley home. He sighed, looking at it, yearning toward it. He wondered whether it was a source of comfort for Ginny or a place she was longing to escape. She still had two more years of school. At Christmas, she'd described having a row with her mother just before discovering the basilisk amulet in Knockturn Alley, and that had been at the end of her third year, when she still had four years of school left.

Ginny was silent. Perhaps it had been insensitive of him to say he thought that cloud looked like the Burrow, and she was being silent rather than telling him not to mention her home. The "Burrow" cloud was breaking up now into smaller bits.

"Look! the house is breaking up into house-elves!" The shapes didn't really look remotely like elves, but he couldn't think of anything else to say. He waited for her to call him on it, to say, It does not look like house-elves, Harry Potter! And she she would laugh at him and he would get that warm feeling in his chest from hearing her laugh....

But there was no response. He turned his head. "Ginny?" he said, even as he was turning.

In the dim light of the clearing--he hadn't noticed it was so dark on the ground because he'd been gazing up at the sky--he could see what looked like a large thick black blanket covering her completely. Recognizing the lethifold for what it was immediately, he sprang to his feet, drawing his wand.

"Expecto Patronum!" he shouted. The other students in his year had finally had the opportunity to practice conjuring a Patronus, but rather than practicing on dementors, they practiced on lethifolds which were being kept by Hagrid for Professor Lupin's use. They lived in several cages behind his hut. One of them must have escaped and made its way into the forest. The only spell that repelled a lethifold was the Patronus charm.

The ghostly image of the stag burst forth from his wand and galloped toward Ginny's prostrate form. Immediately, the lethifold withdrew from her as though some invisible person had simply pulled gently on a blanket covering her. She was lying still as a statue. The stag chased the flat black shadow through the trees, but Harry, for once, didn't stop to watch it. He went to his knees beside her, wringing his hands. He looked for her chest to rise and fall, but there was no movement. He wondered how long the dreadful thing had been cutting off her air. Was it too late? He leaned forward, pinching her nose and opening her mouth; he put his mouth against hers, breathing into it insistently, thinking, Come on Ginny, come on---

Harry wasn't sure how long it was before she began gasping. He pulled back, so relieved he thought he might cry. She started coughing in earnest and he sat her up, holding her, but also patting her on the back. Soon the coughing subsided and she leaned against him, her head on his shoulder, his arms around her, his heart thumping so loudly he was certain she would be able to hear it.

She pulled back from him a little bit, holding onto his face, her eyes meeting his with a desperate expression. Then she completely shocked him by pulling him toward her, their mouths meeting. When she pulled back from the kiss, she whispered to him, "Thank you, Harry."

He nodded, caressing her cheek with his hand. It was getting very dark now and he could barely see her. Somehow, the dark made him bolder. "If anything had happened to you Ginny--" His voice caught; he couldn't continue, so he simply pulled her to him again. This time her mouth opened under his as she slid her arms around his neck, and he held her so close it was as though he was trying to make her a part of him. At length, their mouths separated, and he slid his lips down her throat, hearing her sigh in approval, and he was so happy he couldn't contain himself. He slid his lips along her jaw, then up to her right ear, and, after kissing it, whispered to her, "I love you so much, Ginny...."

She pushed him away, coming to her senses. She looked up at the sky. Her voice shaking, she said, "That thing came looking for food because it's getting dark. We should go back."

He nodded, looking away from her. For a few glorious minutes, it had been as though they were together, as though they were a couple. He swallowed and changed into his Animagus form, trying to push down his jumbled emotions, trying to think only the uncomplicated thoughts of a golden griffin. She straddled him quickly and he took off; soon they were winging their way back to the Astronomy Tower, and when they landed, he changed back into his human form immediately, then turned over, so she was sitting astride him while he looked up at her. He ran his hands up her arms; she looked down at him impassively as he put his hands behind her neck and pulled her mouth down to his. She let him do it, and he felt her open her mouth against his, kissing him back again. She was lying on top of him now and his arms were wrapped around her, holding her to him tightly. She was gurgling in her throat as they kissed and the movements she was making on top of him were driving him mad.

Then--it all stopped. She rolled off him and stood up, going to the parapet, looking down at the dark grounds, and when Harry went to stand beside her, he saw that she was crying.

"Ginny--don't--"

"I can't help it, Harry. I'm sorry--I shouldn't have done that when we landed. I just--I just thought, one last time, it would be just one last time--"

"Last?" he whispered.

"Well-- you did save my life." She said, with a small smile. "Again."

"You didn't do that in the Chamber of Secrets."

"Harry! I was twelve years old. And I had a huge crush on you," she added, reddening.

"So you only kiss boys who've saved your life whom you don't have huge crushes on?"

She reddened again, and then they were silent, both looking over the grounds, and slowly his hand came to be covering hers. But then she withdrew it. "I thought--I thought I could do this. Just be your friend. But I think I'm just leading you on to spend so much time with you. Until today, it seemed we were doing so well, that we were just good friends, and--"

"Ginny," he interrupted her. "You didn't kiss me like we were friends."

She looked down; she was still red. "I'm sorry Harry. I don't think I'll be coming up here any more. Thank you for saving me, but--but you can't kiss me any more, and I can't kiss you. And you can't tell me you love me. Please--try to understand. I never meant to hurt you. I just--"

"--you're in love with Draco Malfoy." She nodded, not meeting his eyes.

"Good-bye, Harry," she said softly, and soon she was out of sight, through the trapdoor and going down into the castle.

Harry sat down on the stone flags, staring at the sky, letting the tears fall down his cheeks without wiping them. He didn't go down to dinner. When his watch said that it was midnight, he finally went down to Gryffindor Tower and climbed into his bed without speaking to anyone. And even though he knew it would never happen, in his dreams, she was in his arms, up on the observation deck, and she was telling him that she loved him too....

"Potter!"

Harry looked up. Professor McGonagall was glaring at him, her hands on her hips. He blinked and swallowed.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"The headmaster wishes to see you," she said tersely, her eyes flashing, her mouth very thin.

Harry could see that Dumbledore was standing in the doorway to the Transfiguration classroom, with an expression that implied he was trying very hard not to laugh. Harry walked toward the door without looking at Ron, Hermione, or Professor McGonagall.

Once they were both in the corridor, the door to the classroom closed, Dumbledore started walking, and Harry understood that he was to walk beside him. He did this without saying a word; the headmaster too was silent. Finally, the old man stopped and turned to Harry.

"Harry, I understand that you meant well to offer yourself for Severus. But I simply cannot allow you to place yourself in danger in that way."

"But Professor--"

Dumbledore held up his hand and Harry stopped. "We're doing this my way. Yes, we will contact Wormtail and make him think we want to trade you for Snape, somewhere in the Forbidden Forest. We will not tell him about the Clash just yet. We will also tell him that you know who the heir is, and what the heir's purpose is. He will, of course, suspect that we are not dealing honestly with him. He will contact us to say what he wishes to do; we, of course, will know that he is not dealing honestly with us. But until we receive his response to the proposal, we shall have no way to evaluate our options. If he seems very eager to do things as we are proposing, I believe we should be even more cautious than if he produces his own plan."

Harry nodded. "Right. When are you sending the owl?"

"As soon as I walk you back to your class. Is everything all right, Harry?"

Harry rubbed his head. "I'm still getting back to normal. I've remembered a number of things, and sometimes I can just let my feet take me where they will, and I wind up going to the right place at the right time, but it seems like, if I try to think about it too much, I can't quite get at the thoughts I want...."

Dumbledore nodded. "It will get better. Now, go back to class. I've told the elves they are to have an additional training session tomorrow at nine in the morning. I've cancelled all Quidditch practices. Flitwick will be meeting with you and the Dueling Club in the afternoon. I'm afraid that no matter how much time you need to get back all of your memories, we can't worry about that overmuch just now. You need to focus on the present. Can you do that, Harry?"

He nodded. "Yes, sir." He wouldn't let Dumbledore down.

Between classes, he told Ron and Hermione what Dumbledore had said; he just started talking to them in the corridor, hoping they wouldn't turn away from him after what he'd said the day before. Had he lost both of them?

But Ron nodded when he heard Dumbledore's plan. "He's got the right idea. And Elven Army tomorrow morning and Dueling Club in the afternoon? Good idea. We have to be ready for anything Wormtail might throw at us."

He and Hermione seemed to be avoiding each other during the rest of the day, Harry thought. Why do they think they have to prove they're not interested in each other? he wondered. I said I wasn't upset. He hoped that the battle plans would distract them enough that their collective relationship would normalize again soon.

The weekend passed in a blur of elves and dueling. His two best friends were all-business during this time, and he did not attempt to discuss private matters with them. They had the same schedule again Sunday that they had Saturday. Finally, at lunch on Monday, Dumbledore stopped by the Gryffindor table, whispering to Harry, "I'm off to see Snuffles and some of the others. I'll be back tomorrow. We haven't heard back yet from our friend." Harry grimaced at the idea of calling Wormtail their "friend." And yet, once--he had been. One of his parents' closest friends. Their Secret Keeper.

He went through the rest of his classes feeling tense; something about the day didn't feel right. Perhaps he was just being irrational to think that it was risky for Dumbledore to leave the school at this time, but by the end of the day, he was wishing he had asked him to stay. He had a very bad feeling something was about to happen.

And then it did.

He was up on the parapet, about to change into a griffin and fly over the forest, when Ginny flung open the trapdoor and finished running breathlessly up the stairs. She was panting and red-faced, and Harry caught her arms, concerned for her. "What is it?" he demanded, seeing how distressed she was. She couldn't speak, but removed a parchment and an agate marble from her robe pocket. The agate was painted to resemble a disembodied eyeball. Harry frowned at it; he took the parchment from her and read:

Dear Draco,

Your misguided headmaster thinks he is in charge of the world. I am writing to you to tell you that this is not so. He has offered to trade Harry Potter for your head of house. While it would please my master greatly for me to be able to give him Harry Potter, it would also please him for me to give him you. He also seems to think that I do not know the Forbidden Forest like the back of my hand and will need to give me instructions about where to go to make the trade. I have spent far too much time in that forest in my lifetime not to know exactly where I want this to take place. He will not manipulate me.

If he wants his precious Potions Master back, the only thing I am willing to take in trade is you. Use this magic eye to see where to come for your head of house. Come alone and before it is too late. You carry the Mark; surely you have felt yourself being summoned repeatedly in the last six months? If you wish it, you might have another chance to serve the Dark Lord. You will have to pay for your previous disobedience, but in the end, our Master would have another servant, and that is what is important.

Remember--quickly and alone.

It was unsigned. Harry looked up at her stricken face. He held out his hand; she was holding the agate carefully between her thumb and forefinger. She gave it to him and he rolled it in his palm, then closed his fist on it tightly, starting to get a foggy picture in his mind. As the fog cleared, he saw Severus Snape, haggard and bony, in the grips of very, very large black pincers.

Aragog.

Or one of his children. Harry could see the horrible multiple eyes of the creature; they weren't cloudy and blinded like Aragog's, so it probably wasn't him, but that hardly mattered. He could see that the creature had something in one of his other pincers.

Draco Malfoy.

He'd already gone, and he'd been captured too. His head flopped about on his neck. Harry prayed that he was merely unconscious, that his neck hadn't snapped. He swallowed and looked up at Ginny.

"Who found the letter and the eye?"

"Mariah."

Harry drew his lips into a line. He was still undecided on Mariah. He remembered the strangeness with the gloves. Then he shook himself, trying to focus on Ginny. "You've seen it, haven't you?" He hated to think of her reaction to seeing what he had when he'd held the agate.

She nodded, looking stricken. "Oh, Harry!" She threw herself onto him and he held her as she sobbed. He couldn't stand seeing her so distressed. After letting her cry a little, he held her at arms' length.

"We're going to get him back. We're going to get them both back. Understand?" She nodded her tear-stained face. "Now, Dumbledore left the castle this morning, which means McGonagall's in charge. Go to her and tell her to round up the teachers. We need to do this right. Those are Acromantulae out there; most curses and hexes will bounce right off them. And it's not just a couple of them, either. It's a bloody colony. I'll get the other members of the Dueling Club, and I'll have Ron and Hermione go talk to the elves. We'll probably only be able to get McGonagall to use students as a backup, but hopefully we won't be needed if the teachers and elves are in on it. Oh! And I'll send Hedwig to alert the giants. They can't do magic, but they're half again as big as the largest spider in the colony. You know what to do?"

She nodded, looking strangely calm. "Go to McGonagall."

"Good girl. Let's go!"

They raced down the tower steps, diverging at the bottom to go in different directions. Harry raced to the Owlery, scratching out a note with the quill kept chained to the wall there, written on the cheap foolscap kept in the Owlery for people who arrived without parchment or an otherwise pre-written document.

He watched Hedwig fly off, then realized that there was another letter he needed to write. He tried to describe the situation as clearly and succinctly as possible, then addressed it to Mr. Weasley at the Ministry and tied it to another owl's leg. Harry wasn't sure there was anyone at the Ministry who was trustworthy other than Mr. Weasley, but he had to take a chance that Ron's and Ginny's father could get some Aurors to the castle.

He ran from the Owlery to Gryffindor Tower to find Ron and Hermione, so they could rally the elves. But when he reached the portrait hole, Ginny was emerging from it with her brother and Hermione, as well as the other Gryffindor Dueling Club members: Parvati, Ruth, and Tony.

"Harry!" Ron said urgently. "We have a problem. We can't find the teachers anywhere. They're gone."

Harry frowned. "What do you mean, gone?"

Ginny wrung her hands. "I can't find any of them anywhere. They're just--gone."

He pushed past them, flinging the password carelessly at the Fat Lady, then sprinting up the stairs to the dorm once he was in the common room. He took the map from his trunk and activated it; as soon as he saw what was what, he ran down the stairs and out the portrait hole again, clutching the parchment tightly in his hands. He knelt on the stone floor and the others joined him as he spread out the map for them to see. Ruth, Parvati and Tony widened their eyes upon seeing the map.

Harry pointed at the Slytherin common room. "Here they are. See? It looks like every teacher's name is there. Except for Dumbledore; he's away."

Ginny gasped. "You think something has happened there, and that's why Mariah or Millicent called the teachers to come to their common room?"

Harry frowned. "I don't know. Look here--" He pointed to the corridor outside the Slytherin common room, where there were dots labeled Mariah Kirkner and Millicent Bulstrode.

"Are they guarding the entrance?" Ron asked. They all looked at each other in horror. Was this planned? Then Mariah and Millicent seemed to have given up on entering their own common room, and they started moving down the corridor toward the stairs to the entrance hall. Harry moved his eyes over the map; there were other dots moving toward their position now: the Head Boy and Head Girl, Liam Quirke and Cho Chang, who had both made it into the Dueling Club in October. (They'd practiced over the summer.) Justin Finch-Fletchley was with them; he'd also qualified for Dueling Club this time. Evan Davies, Susan Bones and Ernie MacMillan were also headed their way.

"The whole Dueling Club is coming up here," Harry said, pointing out the labeled dots. "They must have noticed something wrong too."

He swallowed. The headmaster was away. The teachers were in the dungeons. The Dueling Club was gathering, and they would be looking to him, their leader, to tell them what to do. He hoped the giants would be able to do something. And Hagrid could call off Aragog. No--wait. Hagrid was in the Slytherin common room too. That wasn't good; that wasn't a place he would ever go voluntarily, emergency or no emergency.

He called this to their attention. "I think--it's possible that the teachers are being held prisoner. Look at this: the student names in the common room are Zabini, Nott, Crabbe and Goyle. Their dads are all Death Eaters. The other Slytherin students are in their dorms--maybe they're prisoners, too. Perhaps Mariah and Millicent couldn't get into the common room because the password was changed."

He turned to Tony, who was an incredibly fast runner. "Go down to the kitchens and find Dobby the house-elf and bring him here." Tony nodded and ran off without asking any questions. He turned to the others.

"The whole Dueling Club will probably be here in a minute--except for Malfoy and Tony. We're going to have to be the ones to go into the forest for Malfoy and Snape." He turned to Ginny. "You have told them about Malfoy and Snape?" She nodded.

"Good. Of course, when the others get here we'll have to explain again. Anyway, I've already sent an owl to the giants--"

"The what?" Parvati and Ruth said together. Harry swallowed.

"Hagrid's mum and some friends have been living in the forest for about a year and a half now. They'll help us, don't worry. They're all loyal to Dumbledore."

Suddenly, the other members of the Dueling Club appeared from around the corner. Ernie, Evan, Liam, Justin, Cho and Susan were winded, and Mariah and Millicent looked positively frantic.

"Harry!" Millicent exclaimed breathily when she saw him. "Blaise Zabini! He's gone mad! Says he's You-Know-Who's agent at Hogwarts! He's--he's taken the teachers prisoner in Slytherin House and we can't get in!"

Harry nodded. "We know. And a Death Eater has Draco Malfoy and Professor Snape in the forest at the mercy of giant carnivorous spiders."

She frowned. "What? Professor Snape is--"

"No," he said, interrupting her. "He was never on sabbatical. He's been a prisoner all this time. I had Dumbledore offer to trade me for him, and now this is what's happened...."

Hermione put her hand on his arm. She seemed to have forgotten about being hacked off at him for breaking up with her. "You can't blame yourself, Harry. Who else would have offered themselves up like that?"

He looked at her. "We have to assume that what we're going to find in the forest is a trap. We go knowing that we might none of us come back." He looked around at them all. "It was going to be the teachers, but someone thought of that and took the teachers prisoner, where we can't get at them. That leaves us--inexperienced students. And they know it. Except--this is the Hogwarts Dueling Club. We're the best of the best." He looked around at them all, trying to change their expressions of fear and uncertainty into confidence and malevolence. "They don't know who they're dealing with."

Harry felt Ginny shiver beside him, and he tried to give her a reassuring smile, knowing that she feared Draco Malfoy was already dead. But now Tony had arrived with Dobby, and Harry had to concentrate on something else.

"Dobby! You're my field sergeant. I can't be present to lead you, but I have an assignment that only you and the Elven Army can handle."

Dobby hesitated. "I--I know that you is my general, Harry Potter sir, but--but where is Headmaster? A battle? Should not Headmaster say what I is to do?"

"Headmaster--er, Dumbledore isn't here Dobby, and we have a problem. Two problems, actually. The one I want you to work on is here in the castle. Some Slytherin students, led by Blaise Zabini, have taken the teachers prisoner in the Slytherin common room. We can't get in. Even Slytherins loyal to Dumbledore can't get in. They changed the password. But you and the other elves can get in."

Dobby nodded his head. "Of course we is able to get in, Mr. General Harry Potter, sir!"

"Right. And then--remember your training. Try to bind up the ones who are doing this, rather than throwing people around with hover charms and such, all right? And try to figure out how they've subdued the teachers. It might be a potion, Imperius, or some other curse. If you manage to get them out of there before we get back, tell them we've gone into the forest and need their help, if they feel able. I'm trusting you, Dobby. And if you get that done and we're not back--we wouldn't say no to some help from the elves, either. Come to the forest if you can. You and the other elves are the only ones who can get into the Slytherin common room, Dobby. I'm relying on you."

Dobby stood to attention and saluted smartly, then popped! out of sight again. Harry looked up at the others. They were all looking to him, even Liam and Cho, the Head Boy and Head Girl. They're all relying on me.

"Now," he said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. "Everyone get their broomsticks--or borrow someone else's broomstick if it's a good one and yours isn't terribly new. We need the best equipment. Also, go back to your houses--" he pointed at Mariah and Millicent "--except for you two--and tell all of the students to meet up on the parapets. Take any tower--the West Tower, the Astronomy Tower--it doesn't matter. Millicent and Mariah--check all the public rooms, like the library and Trophy Room and Great Hall. Get every student in the castle. Everyone should be up on the parapets in fifteen minutes."

They all dispersed; the Gryffindors ran back into the portrait hole; Ron went for brooms while Harry gathered all of the remaining students of the house into the common room and told them that the Dueling Club was going to the forest to rescue Professor Snape and Draco Malfoy from a Death Eater and some giant spiders because some Slytherin students were keeping the teachers prisoner in the dungeons. They were all shocked.

"I need for everyone to get their brooms and come up onto the parapets. The Dueling Club will fly out first. Katie," he put his hand on her shoulder, "I need you to keep track of the time. If an hour has passed after we've left and no one has come back, and the teachers and house-elves haven't emerged from the dungeons to help, we're going to need a second wave. Begin with seventh-years. Pass the responsibility of watching the time to a sixth-year before you go. After an hour, the sixth-years will go, on down to the fourth-years. I don't want third year and younger students to try to fight. Hopefully it won't even come down to needing fourth- or fifth-years." His voice caught, and a tear rolled down Katie's cheek. He thought of hearing her give birth, in his other life. He'd thought of many things about this life that were better in the few days he'd been back, but he'd never expected this....

The students of Hogwarts moved upward like so many rushed commuters trying to emerge from a tube station in the heart of London. Harry led the Gryffindors up the stairs of the West Tower, and when he emerged on the stone deck, the early evening sky starting to darken, he felt his heart leap into his throat as he saw the throngs of other students lining the parapets of the castle. They were everywhere.

He looked to Ginny, whose boyfriend was in the forest; he thought of Snape, the only father he'd ever known. This had to work. He saw that she was holding the agate eyeball charm. He held out his hand for it and she didn't hesitate to give it to him; he held it tightly in his palm and closed his eyes, seeing that they were still there; he saw Pettigrew now, nearby, and someone else--

He swallowed. The heir.

Having confirmed that Snape and Malfoy were still alive--for now--he handed the eyeball charm back to Ginny, and as he did so, an owl that seemed to come from the direction of the village suddenly alit on the parapet where Harry was leaning. He jerked away from it, then saw that it was trying to give him a letter. He took it off the bird's leg and it immediately took off again, not waiting for a response. Harry read the letter with his heart in his throat, then crumpled it. Ron and Hermione leaned in close to him. In spite of the terrible letter, he felt a warmth around his heart; they were a team again. All animosities and hurts were forgotten; perhaps only temporarily, but he knew that if anyone could rise above petty arguments to do the work at hand, it was Ron and Hermione. It was one of the things he loved the most about the two of them.

"What is it?" Hermione demanded to know.

Harry looked up at them, thinking about the letter again, feeling angrier than he'd ever been in his life. "It's Dumbledore. This says he's dead. I refuse to believe it."

Hermione covered her mouth with her hand, horrified. Ron set his jaw, looking as angry as Harry felt. Harry thought, I will not let you rattle me, Wormtail. I refuse. He pointed his wand at his throat, saying, "Sonorus." Taking a deep breath, he began speaking.

"This letter," he said, holding up the crumpled parchment, "says that Albus Dumbledore is dead. I do not believe it!" A shocked gasp traveled through the crowd. "But whether he is alive or dead, we can't give up the fight! This is what many of us have been both dreading and anticipating," he said evenly, his voice carrying to the farthest student. "We are battling Death Eaters and those sympathizing with Death Eaters right here at Hogwarts. And we're on our own. Now, some of you have experienced losses this year--" He glanced at Jules Quinn now, who was orphaned just a month ago, he now remembered, in a Death Eater attack on his home. "--but we do not intend for the losses to include Professor Snape and Draco Malfoy, who have already stood up to dark wizards and shown where their loyalties lie.

"You have been told what we have to do, but not how we are going to do it. There is a colony of Acromantulae in the Forbidden Forest--giant spiders. We will be fighting at least one Death Eater, maybe more, but the giant spiders will be the most difficult to manage. Most curses and hexes will bounce right off them. It will be necessary to aim for their eyes or use physical force--like conjured ropes--to subdue them. I've written to the Ministry, asking them to send Aurors, but we don't know how long that will take and we're not going to wait. The Dueling Club is going first. Katie Bell will keep time." He saw Ginny hand Katie the eyeball charm. "After an hour, if the Aurors haven't come, the seventh-years will go. An hour after that, sixth-years. No one under fourth year should try to go. If no one has returned an hour after the fourth-years have gone--" He swallowed. "You may assume that we have lost the battle."

Silence. He wished he could say something more stirring, more confident. He wished he could say they would win the battle. Instead, he ended the amplifying charm and put his wand away, looking around at the other students with whom he was about to go into battle. He loved every one of them, in their way, and the thought of losing any of them made his stomach turn over and sweat break out on his palms. Not a sound came from anyone on the parapets after the echo of his voice died away. All of the students looked toward the forest, dark and ominous and forbidden to them for as long as they could remember.

It was Ruth who started it.

Harry remembered her clear voice singing the Ravel; now it lifted in a familiar hymn. He was surprised she knew it, but perhaps all English schoolchildren learned it when they were young, regardless of religion or whether they went to wizard or Muggle primary school or, like the Weasleys, stayed at home and learned at their mothers' knees. He had learned it in the village school in Little Whinging, but it had never occurred to him to wonder how universal a thing it might be on their small island.

"And did those feet in ancient time..."

Then Will Flitwick's flute of a voice joined hers:

"...walk upon England's mountains green?"

And even though Harry thought of it as an English hymn, the voices of all of the others around him picked up the tune and enlarged it, as though this had been planned, as though it were rehearsed. And even though they were facing battle in "Scotland's forests green" and not on "England's mountains green," and even though some of them were from Ireland or Scotland or Wales, or the Channel Islands, or Orkney or Shetland, it hardly mattered; it was what the song represented that mattered. Solidarity. Hope. A cause that was right and just.

The voices swelled as the second verse began, the parapets resounding with the anthem, and Harry's eyes stung; he began to join in croakily, because of the tightness in his throat, Blake's words never seeming more poignant and more laden with meaning:

Bring us all back safely, bring us all back safely...

"Snape, Malfoy and Dumbledore!" he cried, his voice strong and sure as he shot forward, leading the others into battle. They flanked him, seven on each side of him in a V-formation, driving toward the trees.

The other students on the parapets took up the battle cry and repeated it as the warriors flew toward the forest, and the mountains echoed it back until it seemed that the entire landscape reverberated with the sound.