The Beginning of The End

Chapter Ten

Preparations

The weeks that followed Hagrid's departure brought upon a slew of bad news from the outside world. Word came that a huge portion of Hogsmeade had suffered a massive attack by Death Eaters and Voldemort himself. All the Gryffindor's had stared in horror at the pictures in the Daily Prophet, many of their favorite stores looking as though they were great ruins. Honeydukes was a mountain of bricks and ash with colorful packages and brightly wrapped candy dotting the ground surrounding it. There was an interview with a horrified Madame Rosmerta as she described her narrow escape when Death Eaters had swarmed the Three Broomsticks. The Post Office looked to be nothing more than a colossal pile of black, smoking rubble upon which hundreds and hundreds of dead owls littered. Harry had rushed up to the owlery to visit Hedwig in reassurance after he'd witnessed that photo.

Needless to say, the air inside Hogwarts was not as relaxed as it had been prior to this news. The list of missing wizards and witches grew longer and longer so that Harry chose not to open the Daily Prophet anymore.

Harry missed Hagrid. It was like being back in fifth year, not knowing where he was or if he was safe, although Harry had been thoroughly relieved when he'd received an owl from him about a week after he'd left. In the untidy note, Hagrid had told Harry that he was doing well, and that Madame Maxime had joined him as soon as he'd gotten word to her. Harry worried slightly that Hagrid had been too vague as to whether he'd had any luck with the giants, but Hermione reasoned that Hagrid's living conditions probably weren't so good and that it may be difficult for him to write anything at all, much less a huge detailed letter. Harry had to agree.

He had received word that the training was to begin. Snape and Lupin hadn't had any luck finding a boggart in the castle, so Dumbledore had sent for one. It had taken about a week to arrive and Harry had been grateful for the delay, selfish as it was.

Harry asked Ron and Hermione for their opinions on what the boggart might turn into for him, but neither of them had a clue. Ron had confessed as they climbed into their four-posters one night that he couldn't see how it wouldn't be Voldemort. Harry secretly agreed, but tried not to focus all his energy thinking about Lord Voldemort appearing in the eight-floor classroom out of a wardrobe.

With the chilled December weather, it was impossible for Harry to keep up with his morning swim. Sometimes he walked around the corridors of the castle for a few hours before breakfast; other times he jogged across the grounds, Fang at his side. Very seldom would he lay awake in bed, staring at the curtains, his mind turning around and around on thoughts such as what Hagrid was doing at that very moment or if their favorite waitress in The Three Broomsticks had survived the attack. Harry never slept past sunrise and was usually awake to watch the fiery globe make its ascent over the lake.

On the day the first training session was to take place, Harry made his way numbly down to breakfast, not having slept a wink. He hadn't had the energy to get out of bed to go outside or to walk around Hogwarts, so he dressed very slowly, wanting desperately to crawl back into bed and have a sleep. But he knew he wouldn't be able to nap, so it was no use either way. Harry barely glanced in the mirror before descending the spiral steps into the common room.

The common room was deserted of students except for a very few getting some homework done or in Harry's case unable to sleep. He glanced at the sofa near the window, thinking that he could sit and relax while he waited for Ron or Hermione to come down. But the window seat was occupied by Ginny.

She was already dressed in her robes, looking very refreshed with her hair pulled back and her legs curled beneath her. She had that same sketchpad Harry had seen her using at the Burrow and she seemed to be drawing the view from the window.

Ignoring the fluttering in his stomach that accompanied looking at Ginny these days, Harry walked over to her. "Hey."

Ginny looked up, her eyes absentminded for a second. "Hi."

Harry nodded towards the drawing and sat down in a chair close by. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "I dunno what's wrong with me this year, usually Sarah has to drag me out of bed in order for me to make my lessons. One summer Mum threatened to overturn my mattress when I slept until noon every day."

Harry shook his head, thinking of Aunt Petunia pounding on the bedroom door to wake him up. He'd take Mrs. Weasley overturning his mattress any day. "Could be worse, I s'pose."

"I suppose," she sighed again and continued drawing.

Harry took a breath. "Um, er, you never told me how things went with Dumbledore a few weeks back."

Ginny's pencil stilled on the drawing. "Things went fine. He made me write to Mum and Dad."

"I figured as much," Harry said. "Sorry."

Ginny lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "Not your fault, I knew it was the right thing to do."

Harry glanced up at the curtness in Ginny's voice. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable, but the truth was he hadn't forgotten about her nightmare so quickly and had meant to find out what happened with Dumbledore much sooner. However, Harry hadn't seen ample time to talk to her about it with training to think about and Hagrid's leaving. When he did try to look for her, it always seemed that she was in the company of her friends or nowhere to be found. It left him to think that it was rather strange, how little he knew about Ginny--what kind of classes she took, what she did in her spare time. Harry wondered how he could know so little about a person he'd known for almost seven years. However, he felt he needed to know what had happened with her talk with Dumbledore so he resigned himself to asking her.

"Dumbledore said that it was okay, then?" Harry asked tentatively.

Ginny sighed very faintly, but continued drawing. "He told me that he didn't think I was doing things against my will. If I have another, I'm supposed to write down what I remember as soon as I wake up."

"I s'pose that's a good idea," Harry said.

"I suppose."

After another silence, Hermione and Ron came down and the four of them sat down to breakfast and listened to the owls flutter into the Great Hall and everyone became busy opening their mail. There was a distraction when a Hufflepuff girl got up from the table and fled the hall in tears, a letter clutched in her hand. They watched a few other girls run after her, followed immediately by Professor Sprout, head of Hufflepuff House. The poor girl had obviously just suffered at the hands of Voldemort.

This type of occurrence wasn't rare, and talk in the hall rose again a few minutes later as everyone reluctantly got on with things. Harry was contemplating his porridge, Ron and Hermione were talking in low voices, and Ginny was finishing up some homework. Seamus then engaged Harry in talk of Quidditch defense and they got into a half-hearted discussion. Harry could feel Hermione and Ron glancing at him every few seconds and he knew that the training was on their minds as well.

Everyone in the hall looked up as Dumbledore stood at the head table and clapped his hands once. "Ah, it's good to know that I can still achieve gaining your attention so easily," he said with a smile. "It is my pleasure to announce that Hogwarts will be treated to another Winter Ball this year." There were scattered applause and a few cheers throughout the Hall. "The Ball will take place on December eighteenth, just before your winter holiday from classes. So if you are planning on going home, you will still be able to attend the gala. Formal attire is required, of course. I daresay I can trust all of you to look for attire in other forms than your costumes from this past Halloween Feast. Thank you!"

Another Ball. Harry closed his eyes briefly and tried not to think about the disastrous Winter Ball's of the past. In Harry's fifth year, after Voldemort's rebirth and after the Hogwarts Quidditch tournaments had to be canceled, Dumbledore had decided that a Winter Formal would be a wonderful way for everyone in the castle to forget about the problems of the outside world and relax.

However, to Harry a winter ball did not mean relaxation-- the furthest thing from it actually. He felt guilty to be dressing up in expensive robes, eating delicious food, dancing and laughing while Voldemort continually took over in the wizarding world. Harry had thought that there wouldn't be a ball this year indefinitely owing to the attack on Hogsmeade. Obviously he'd been wrong and now the chore of finding a date and the torture of spending the entire night wishing he were somewhere else was suddenly upon him.

When he'd been in fifth year, Harry had gone to ball without a date. It had been fun enough, even if the entire night had been a constant reminder of Cho Chang, which in turn had reminded him of Cedric. Last year, Harry had accepted an invitation from Anna Pegry, a Ravenclaw in his year. The only reason he'd accepted had been because he hadn't wanted Hermione to go into a fit of worry as she had during fifth year. So he'd gone to the ball with Anna and Harry had to endure an entire evening of her eyes darting fascinatingly to his scar every three seconds.

It was no wonder that he would rather spend the entire night serving detention with Filch, or taking on ten or twenty boggart-turned-Voldemorts. He just didn't like the whole ordeal and what it stood for. It made him angry, and it made him remember things that he would have to spend the rest of his life trying to forget.

So when Hermione voiced her shock that there was going to be a ball this year, Harry couldn't suppress his anger.

"I think it's stupid," he muttered, throwing his fork on his plate with a clatter that made Ginny jump. "Really stupid."

The group around went silent. Harry was willing to bet that Seamus, Dean, Neville, Lavender and Parvati were exchanging shocked looks. He would also be willing to bet that Hermione was biting her bottom lip with her eyes full of concern and that Ron was pretending like nothing was going on, trying to encourage others to do the same without actually saying it.

And Ginny's eyes were focused on his... he felt them.

"Hey, maybe it'll be fun," Ron said lightly after a few moments. "You know, a night to forget everything that's going on and just... have fun." Ron locked eyes with Harry and told him in a single look that he understood, but it was no good throwing a tantrum in front of everyone.

Harry took a deep breath and nodded slightly. "Yeah. I guess your right."

"So, we're going together, right?" Ron addressed Hermione as he swallowed a huge gulp of orange juice.

Hermione's eyes slid over to Ron and Harry couldn't help the smirk at his best friend's lack of cordiality.

"Sure," Hermione said on a sigh and then muttered to herself, "How can I resist such a flattering invitation?" Harry heard her and caught her eye. Hermione grinned reluctantly at his smirk and Harry sent her a wink. He glanced at Ginny but she wasn't looking at them. Her eyes were focused unwaveringly on her homework and she was writing furiously.

Harry's smile faltered slightly.

At that moment, many of the benches in the hall slid back and people began to walk out of the hall to get to their classes. Harry's stomach gave a lurch and his heart sank as he looked at his watch. It was time to go up to the eighth floor.

Ron and Hermione were staring at him as he slid his chair back and dazedly got to his feet. "I'll find you later," he mumbled to them. He saw Ginny lift her head slightly and without looking up at him, she returned to her writing, her face completely unreadable.

Harry made it up to the eighth floor in record time and before he knew it he was standing inside the large, spacious room with no windows, dusty desks and benches pushed to one side. Sirius and Lupin were standing in the middle of the room talking.

"Hey," Sirius said, when he saw Harry. "Come on in, Harry; Dumbledore hasn't arrived up here yet."

"He's still at breakfast," Harry said, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat then asked in a low voice, "Where's Snape?"

"He's on his way up, he's got the boggart," Lupin said.

Harry nodded and wiped the palms of his hands on his robes. They were suddenly very sweaty.

"Try and take it easy, Harry," Lupin said quietly. "We're all here, and remember it's only a boggart, I know you can handle that."

Harry nodded and thought of getting back to Ron and Hermione after this whole ordeal was over. "Yeah. Third year stuff, piece of cake."

Lupin smirked at him. "Seems like yesterday to me, you know."

Harry half smiled. "Yeah. I remember the first class you ever taught us... the boggart in that wardrobe. You wouldn't let me fight it in class because you thought it would turn into Voldemort."

"I was wrong."

Harry nodded.

"You were wrong?" Sirius muttered incredulously.

"It does happen occasionally," Lupin admitted mildly.

Harry smiled reluctantly. "Was that your first time, then? Being wrong?"

"Now, Harry, really," Lupin scolded lightly. "Maybe the second time."

"I would have to say third or forth," Sirius corrected.

The door creaking open interrupted them, and Dumbledore and Snape walked inside the room, floating a large wooden box, which was rattling.

Harry's stomach rolled slightly, but he forced himself to remember Lupin's words. It was only a boggart, after all.

Dumbledore turned to Harry. "Hello, Harry. How was your breakfast?"

"Okay," he said, smiling inwardly at Dumbledore's tone. As if they were simply getting together to discuss the weather.

Dumbledore waited until Snape had adjusted the large wooden crate. "Let us begin. We need to first establish the protective shield in order for me to fully understand how this will work. I have an idea of what kind of barriers will arise, but am not completely sure. Harry, you've memorized the chant?"

Harry nodded, letting the words run through him once again.

"Will the barriers arise even without a dark force?" Sirius questioned.

Lupin nodded for Dumbledore. "The spell is a protective chant; it can be used anytime if our research is correct. It's the factor of the necessary elements that will provide the curse strong enough to banish whatever the force."
Harry spoke his question slowly, trying to phrase it correctly. "So, anyone can chant this spell as a protective measure, but it will only destroy the thing if the proper elements are used?"

Dumbledore nodded. "According to my research. We will know more about this after we finish here. Harry, Severus, take your wands out please, and point them thus."

Dumbledore, Harry and Snape stood in a triangle and pointed their wands towards the center, their tips almost touching. Sirius and Lupin sat in the far corner of the room at a small marble table.

Dumbledore spoke quietly to Harry and Snape. "The chant, then if you please. Harry, you begin."

He took a shaky breath and spoke the words clearly.

"Bene omnia vincit, the power of goodness shall conquer all. In the wake of evil's return, goodness shall prevail."

Snape joined him after the first mantra and then Dumbledore. Their voices were loud, clear and strong.

Harry felt something like heat seep into him, but he still kept up the chant.

"Bene omnia vincit, the power of goodness shall conquer all. In the wake of evil's return, goodness shall prevail."

His eyes remained on the center of the wands, and saw that his own was trembling slightly. His wand hand felt warm and tingly and the sensations started to spread into his limbs.

They were speaking quicker now, the words blending into each other, their voices becoming low and hoarse. Harry had no concept of time; every thought flew out of his head as he concentrated on something... he didn't know quite what it was.

"Bene omnia vincit, the power of goodness shall conquer all. In the wake of evil's return, goodness shall prevail."

And then, without warning, from his own wand burst a shower of sparks which rose high above their heads into a beam of white light. The light spread into the other two wands and seemed to crash through Harry's body. He staggered, but kept up the chant, his wand now connected to the beam of light, which linked all three wands. Through the blinding light, he saw Snape's black eyes, narrowed and focused, and Dumbledore's bright eyes, sharp with intensity.

Through the hum of the chant, which was now lower than a whisper from all three elements, Harry heard Lupin's voice, small and distant. "Stop the chant."

Dumbledore stopped chanting at once, yanking his wand from the connection, and the light fell from its huge height and shot back into all three wands. Harry felt a quick, shocking jolt and he stumbled backwards again.

The room came into focus and he could see Snape's face shining with power, and Sirius in the background, his eyes wide and his breathing shallow. Harry was shaking all over, not because he was frightened, but because he could feel the intense magic inside his very skin. Harry had felt something like this only once before when his wand had been connected with Voldemort's. But at that time, it had been torture to keep his wand connected; this time, he had been drawn to the beam, to the light that connected the three wands.

Harry looked up at Dumbledore, whose eyes were gleaming with elation.

"Far greater than I had hoped," he croaked. "Far greater than I had hoped."

Lupin looked at his watch. "Thirty-eight minutes."

Harry stared at him. "What? Th-that was thirty-eight minutes?"

Dumbledore looked pleased. "We will try it again, and for double the time. Remus, allow me the time after an hour has passed." Then he looked at Harry and Snape. "Are we quite ready?"

Harry took a deep breath and nodded. If nearly forty minutes had passed before, Harry knew he could certainly handle an hour. It had seemed like four minutes to him.

"Harry, begin please," Dumbledore said.

The hour was tallied and Harry thought it had been shorter than last time, although an immense fatigue began to course through him after Dumbledore broke the connection. He glanced at Snape who showed no sign of vulnerability and then at Dumbledore who looked tired but normal.

"We will have a break while I read over Remus' accounts," Dumbledore said.

Harry glanced at Lupin who held out several pages of parchment, all covered in a scrawly penmanship. Harry realized that Lupin must have been taking notes while they had been under the spell.

Walking over to a stone marble bench covered in a white cloth, Harry sat down and remained quiet, and after a minute, he felt Sirius sit down next to him. Harry breathed deeply, glad for the break.

Dumbledore stood after reading through the notes carefully. "Okay, I would like to continue now, with the boggart. Harry, do you need another minute?"

Harry felt Snape's eyes bore holes into him as if daring him to ask for another minute. "No," he said firmly and stood up. "I'm ready."

"Good," Dumbledore said and Harry noticed that the Headmaster looked exhausted.

Sirius clapped him on the shoulder before going back to the small table in the corner. Lupin turned to Harry after adjusting the wooden crate slightly. "Okay, Harry, if it takes the form of a Dementor, cast your patronus. If it assumes the shape of Voldemort, simply use the Riddikulus Spell. Alright?"

Harry nodded, his mind set. Just a boggart, just a boggart. The crate opened at Lupin's command.

Harry stood where he was, suddenly paralyzed as he stared into the glowing red eyes and the pale face that haunted his sleep. Lord Voldemort had emerged, black robes billowing, his wand raised and pointed at Harry. Voldemort threw back his head and laughed, that high, piercing cold laugh and suddenly Harry was tied against a gravestone and Voldemort was running a long finger down his cheek. He tried to break free and found himself stumbling backwards.

"Focus, Harry," came Lupin's sharp voice and at once the picture of the graveyard vanished from his mind and Harry was in the room on the eight floor and the boggart-Voldemort was advancing on him, wand raised.

Harry clicked into action, focusing his mind and raising his own wand. He watched Voldemort stumble and fall to his knees and Harry shouted, "Riddikulus!" The abnormality of Voldemort falling to the ground caused a crazed laughter to bubble up inside Harry's head and the boggart vanished with a snap.

"Excellent!" cried Dumbledore.

"Well done, Harry," said Lupin proudly and Harry was transported back five years to when he'd defeated the boggart in Lupin's Anti-Dementor lessons.

After that, Dumbledore insisted that they conjure the protection shield once again, this time keeping the connection longer than one hour. They practiced it twice more, each time, gaining another thirty minutes. When Dumbledore finally announced that they had covered enough for today, Harry heaved a sigh of relief. Even though the protection shield made him feel like time wasn't passing, it indeed was and a slow, steady fatigue had begun to creep up on Harry.

"I think we've covered enough for today," Dumbledore said. "Harry, I've no doubt that you will be able to handle the training. We will begin next week."

"Headmaster," Snape began, no doubt to protest the length of time they would wait, but Dumbledore held up a hand.

"Next week. Now if you would all excuse me, I have things I need to see to. Sirius, Remus, if you could meet me in my office in a few minutes, please?"

Harry sank down onto the stone bench again and watched Dumbledore leave the room. Snape performed a Floating Charm on the large wooden box and floated it out without a word to any of them.

"Well," Sirius said, as he, Harry and Lupin walked from the room. He cast an arm around Harry's shoulders. "I'm feeling slightly better about this. Harry, you did very well."

"Yeah, well, it was just a boggart," Harry mumbled as the three of them descended the deserted steps.

"It's still an accomplishment, Harry," Lupin said.

"Snape doesn't seem to think so," Harry said.

"Don't pay any attention to him, Harry, he wouldn't know success if it bit him in the-"

"Let's not go there," Lupin interrupted Sirius.

Harry looked at his watch and almost gasped at the time. They'd been in that room for nearly six hours. Lunch had passed and he'd missed an entire day of classes; Transfiguration was half-over.

Harry voiced something he'd wondered when Dumbledore had insisted they continue next week and not sooner. "Why are we waiting until next week? Do you know?" he asked Sirius and Lupin. He saw them exchange looks and Harry's heart sank. "Has something else happened?"

Sirius sighed and ran a hand down his face. For a split second, he was the man Harry had seen on the muggle news five years ago. "The Ministry aurors are having some trouble. It's the Dementors. They've populated a small muggle town and have performed the Kiss to hundreds of people. The muggles don't know the cause of this since they can't see the Dementor's and the entire town is in a panic. They think it's some sort of plague, people are just dropping dead all over the place for no known reason...not dead, soulless, but they've taken to calling it "brain-dead," or something. Many have been killing themselves because half their families have been Kissed and they have no idea what's happening. It's one of the top priorities right now and Dumbledore is taking much time corresponding with the Aurors helping to gain control over the situation. It's bad, Harry, it's... really bad."

Sirius mentioned the name of the town and Harry breathed a huge sigh of relief that it wasn't anywhere near Hermione's house. Or anywhere near Privet Drive.

"Which is why... I'm sorry to say that we can't spend Christmas together, Harry." Sirius stopped walking and turned to him. "Remus and I are going to help straiten this out."

Harry's stomach lurched. "But you can't... the Dementor's-"

"I'll be fine, Harry, don't worry about me- and we'll both be here for each training session, I promise. I'm just sorry about the holiday, I was hoping that we could spend it together, but it doesn't look like it's possible."

"I hadn't even thought about it," he said weakly. Now he had to worry about Sirius and Lupin dealing with the Dementors. Would it ever end?

"We need to go to Dumbledore's office now, Harry, we'll find you afterwards to say goodbye," Lupin told him and Harry nodded numbly.

A horrible restlessness settled in the pit of Harry's stomach as he blindly walked in the opposite direction of Gryffindor Tower and headed outside instead, grateful for the freezing December air. He ran with Fang for a while and had just began to make the usual path around the lake when he spotted something in the distance. At the edge of the water, there were two people. Harry couldn't make out their faces--but he knew one of them. He could spot the long red hair a mile away. She was seated on a huge bolder and the other person was standing a short distance away... and he was taking her picture.

Harry moved towards them, if only to see who she was with, crossing the stone path and walking down the incline of the grass covered hill. As he approached, he heard Ginny laughing and Harry stopped short when he saw her stand up and playfully make a grab for the camera the guy was holding. Harry could make out his face--it was Colin Creevey.

"Come on, we have to get this done!" Colin was saying, laughing at Ginny. She was doubled over and giggling uncontrollably at something.

"Okay, okay," she breathed and pushed the hair out of her face. "I think I'm getting delirious from the freezing cold. Ready?" she pouted in what one might call a seductive face and posed dramatically for the camera.

Collin almost fell over for laughing so hard. "When your ready to act like a normal model-"

"Model?!" Ginny shrieked and doubled over again. "How pathetic you are to choose me for your model! You should have asked Rebecca Ethington. At least she's pretty!"

"Will you just smile for the camera?" Colin asked. "Come on, Ginny... we're almost finished."
"Okay, okay." Ginny sobered and smiled prettily.

Harry was so irritated at the carefree way Ginny smiled for Colin that he left. He didn't want to examine his feelings, he was angry for even feeling them so he slammed himself inside the castle and went up to Gryffindor tower, feeling as though there was no escape from himself. He immediately sat down at the window seat, leaned forward and gripped his hair. He tried to get his mind focused on something other than Ginny but visions of a swarming group of Dementors raiding a town and kissing hundreds of people began to flash across his mind, making him feel sick. The thought of Sirius dealing with that, well, it was just too much to bare.

And suddenly, he paused, noticing something laying on the floor. He realized that it was the sketchbook Ginny had been drawing in this morning.

Needing a distraction, he opened it to the middle.

Harry slowly flipped through the book, forcing his eyes to look at the drawings. He tried very hard to focus on the funny little creatures characterized and named, some with short paragraphs describing them. As he turned the pages, he began to look closer and read some of the descriptions with little situations narrated with each beast. It didn't take long for Harry to become enthralled--all the dark thoughts started to slowly fade from his mind as he studied Ginny's book. Here was an entire story written in the characters descriptions- a story Ginny must have come up with herself. Harry flipped back to ones he'd skimmed over and read them more thoroughly, smiling at her inventiveness.

As he turned to the beginning of the book, Harry looked at the drawings she'd done of her family, smiled at some Animating Charms gone wrong, and marveled at her creativity.

One drawing in particular had his breath to catch in his throat. There on the rough surface of the drawing parchment, was himself-- etched entirely in pencil. It was... flattering, to say the least. He was younger in the picture, probably third year, and positioned on his old Nimbus. Harry started intently at the drawing and marveled at her vision of him back then. The drawing was so detailed, Harry could see the gleam of his glasses and the folds of his shirt.

He found it very hard to swallow suddenly.

The portrait swung open, and Harry jumped and glanced up at Ginny herself scrambling frantically through. When she saw Harry sitting with her sketchbook, she heaved a huge sigh of relief.

"Oh, Harry," she said breathlessly, her face bright red from being outside. She walked over to him. "Thank goodness you have it! I left it in here this morning and I only just thought about it now." She came to a halt in front of him and looked confused when he didn't hand it to her right away.

"Can I... er, have it?"

Harry stared up at her and found he couldn't speak. Ginny looked down at the page the book was opened to and Harry watched her eyes widen and her face pale.

"These are really good," he muttered, cleared his throat and quickly flipped to another page. "Really good."

"Thanks," she said hoarsely and swallowed audibly.

Harry closed the book and stood up to hand it to her. His eyes stayed on her hand which was shaking slightly as she accepted the book and fitted it into her bag. Watching her nervous, fluttering movements, Harry felt an abrupt, but deep need to know that she didn't fancy Colin Creevey. The feeling was so strong and Harry felt so taken aback by it that he muttered something about being tired and headed upstairs. But he felt Ginny's eyes on him as he left the common room and when he fell onto his bed in exhaustion, he forced his mind to stay on her and on her little drawings--away from the dark thoughts that threatened to resurface.

To Be Continued...

More Fic by Casca at

The Hidden Tower