The Descent Beckons

Chapter 3 - Revealed Prophecies

***

You can never plan the future by the past - Edmund Burke

***

It was common knowledge and had been proven many times over that Albus Dumbledore was a wise and clever man. However, it was surprising that even Dumbledore could be this well-informed, and for that reason Hermione eyed him suspiciously.

"Excuse me, Headmaster," said Ginny, shuffling nervously under Dumbledore's heavy gaze, "what do you mean? You can't possibly have been expecting us..."

"Why, yes, my dear girl, I have actually," replied Dumbledore cheerfully. "If you'll just follow me up to my office I'll inform you how. I always feel explanations go much better with tea and cake."

Hermione thought he was being a bit too jolly at a moment when five very unfamiliar teenagers had inexplicably materialised in his school (a feat that was considered to be utterly impossible according to Hogwarts, a History, which Hermione had read so many times that she now memorised the heavy tome in its entirety).

He led the extremely bewildered group back over to the gargoyle and declared "Nose-Biting Teacup!" As the statue was sliding back he turned and smiled. "Had a nasty accident with one of those the other day...those Gryffindors have such a wonderful sense of humour!"

As they entered the proverbial office of Dumbledore, and Hermione couldn't help but gasp in dismay.

Hermione had found little need to spend time in Dumbledore's office over the years, being the conscientious rule-follower she was, but she had formed a clear picture of the room in her mind during those times she did. She fondly recalled the crooked antique furniture, covered with delicately embroidered rugs and tapestries, the walls covered floor to ceiling with ancient and enchanted books, the striking yet entirely functional trinkets that littered the tabletops.

This room they had entered, however, was the absolute opposite of the room Hermione treasured, and she felt completely appalled.

The embroidered rugs and tapestries were gone, now replaced with shockingly bright tie-dyed bed sheets. The cosy tatty armchairs that always made visitors feel at ease were also removed, a ring of vibrant floating beanbags in their place. Hermione looked around in horrified awe, stepping cautiously into the colourful nightmare but instantly recoiling as she caught sight of the mauve shag-pile rugs that were covering the wooden floors.

"Please, take a seat," said Dumbledore, gesturing to the hovering beanbags that had now begun generating a low humming noise. The group made their way over to the chairs, awkwardly half-jumping half-falling into them. Only Draco, by some unexplainable force of nature, seemed to make taking a seat on the suspended lumps appear elegant. Dumbledore selected an acid-green beanbag, and settled himself into it.

"Now," he said, inspecting them all meticulously over his glasses, "I'm sure you are feeling quite befuddled, and allow me to clear things up as much as possible. Your first question, I daresay, is how exactly was I expecting you?" He took the group's agreed nods as a sign to continue. "Well, it was quite strange. Barely two months ago, I found a book which had one way or another found its way onto my desk. Naturally, my overwhelming curiosity forced me to take a peek. I was astonished to discover that this ancient tome held, among other things, a prophecy."

"A prophecy?" said Hermione. "What did it say?"

"Well, it was a prophecy of five people. Two girls, three boys. Two that would have hair redder than burning skies, two that would have hair darker than the depths of shadows, and the last, with hair so bright, snow may grow to be envious of its immaculate translucency. One would be marked with the iconic fury of the heavens, and this was his journey, he was the one meant to be here."

Hermione's eyes flickered over to Harry beside her. He was fiddling with a button on his robe, his green eyes fixed intently on the floor. Hermione knew he would be blaming himself, that his mind would be whispering guilty thoughts that it was his fault they were all trapped.

"The prophecy foretold that these five would arrive on a crisp winter's night, when the moon had risen at half its magnitude, and Orion was directly above. Logically, I have been watching the firmament scrupulously, trying to map out when you would appear, and as it would seem, thankfully, my calculations have been entirely accurate."

Ron was the first to break the silence. "So, you mean, this was supposed to happen?"

Dumbledore nodded.

"But why?" asked Ginny, frustrated.

"I'm not entirely sure. After all, I did not write the prophecy. However, there must be a reason. You would not have been sent here if there wasn't," Dumbledore paused, and furrowed his brow thoughtfully, creating further grooves into his already wrinkled forehead. "Tell me, where exactly did you come from?"

"We came from here, from Hogwarts!" exclaimed Ron, becoming further confused by the instant.

"Yes, I know," said Dumbledore, gesturing to their Hogwarts cloaks, "but what time did you come from? What year?"

"1996," replied Ron.

"Ah," was Dumbledore's only reply. He pulled his wand out of his sleeve and gave a quick flick of his wrist. Promptly, a bulky plate laden with multi-coloured cakes and an indigo teapot floated in through the window on a shiny silver tray, parking itself right in the centre of the ring of beanbags.

"Tea?" he asked, summoning six teacups a nearby shelf.

"Why do you ask, Professor?" said Ron, highly puzzled at this point.

"Well, I thought you might be thirsty...and tea goes marvellously with cake," replied Dumbledore, cheerily pouring the cups.

"No, Professor, I mean about what time we come from, why would you ask about that?" said Ron.

Dumbledore set the teapot down on the tray and passed around the tea. "Well, because I'm afraid I've got some news for you..."

"What? What is it?" demanded Ginny, who looked as though she was about to fall off her cherry-red beanbag no matter what Dumbledore said.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Well it seems as though you may have travelled a little further than you might have originally believed..."

"How far?" asked Hermione, leaning forward in her seat and raising an eyebrow inquiringly.

"Oh, about twenty years," replied Dumbledore calmly.

"Twenty years? What are you talking about? What year is it?" exclaimed Ron, leaping out of his seat and looking quite perplexed.

"It is presently December, 1976."

"BLOODY HELL!" yelled Ron, sitting down so fast the beanbag dropped a few inches and shuddered irately.

"What, you didn't pick that up from this impeccable décor?" snorted Draco. "When the portraits are wearing rose-coloured glasses, you have to know you're in the seventies." He gestured to the paintings of previous headmasters who were sheepishly taking the spectacles off and tucking them into their robes.

"Well, if you knew, why didn't you say something?" snapped Ron.

"And what, end your frustration? Where's the fun in that?" replied Draco.

Hermione shushed them and turned back to Dumbledore. "How are we supposed to get home, Professor? Those lights that brought us here, they're gone."

Dumbledore paused. "I'm not sure, my dear. However, if I were to guess, I believe it would have to be something you do, something you must work out. Not many would be able to help you out here."

"Well that's helpful," said Draco sarcastically.

Hermione shot him a warning look. "What else did that book say, Professor? Could we perhaps have a look at it?" she asked.

"Oh, no, impossible," said Dumbledore lightly. "I'm afraid it's out of my care now. That book is a genuine artefact; I have given it to the proper officials."

"What?" cried Hermione. "But that book might be our only clue as to how to get home!"

"But it may not," replied Dumbledore, his tone severe. "I suggest you find other means of working this out. That book is far too rare to put in the care of five sixteen-year-olds."

Hermione felt speechless. How could Dumbledore, who had always had so much faith in them, suddenly be so mistrusting? And to be so doubtful towards Hermione, patron of the library, over a book, of all things!

"What are we supposed to do in the mean time?" asked Ginny.

"Well, I daresay you can stay here," said Dumbledore, scratching his head thoughtfully. "However, you might have to be split up..."

"I have no problem whatsoever with that, Professor," said Draco.

"Oh, good," smiled Dumbledore. "Now, excuse my discourtesy, although I'm assuming you know mine, I don't yet know your names."

It felt extremely strange for Hermione to be introducing herself to someone she had known for six years.

"Hermione Granger."

"Draco Malfoy."

"Oh, you must be Lucius's son, and the spitting image of him too."

Most children are complimented when told they are like their parents, Hermione mused. She wondered whether Draco ever found it flattering to be considered a replica of his father. Whether he was proud that he was growing to be the mirror image of a man so unmerciful, so cruel, so vindictive. However if Draco had found the statement offensive his face was not betraying his true feelings. He stared back at Dumbledore blankly, and gave a small nod.

"Ron Weasley."

"Ginny Weasley."

"Oh, Arthur's children, I believe! There's that trademark red hair, of course."

Dumbledore paused and looked at Harry thoughtfully. "James's son?"

Harry, who had been silent this entire time, nodded. "Yes. Harry. Er, Harry Potter."

Dumbledore beamed. "I trust you've inherited James's unwavering lust for life. Such spirit in that boy..."

"Erm, Dumbledore? What's Harry to do if people ask him his name? He can't very well say he's Harry Potter," asked Hermione. She willed him to stop talking of James, Hermione could sense Harry needed a while for everything to sink in. She knew he wouldn't want to face James until it was necessary to do so.

"No, he can't. You three," he gestured to Ron, Ginny and Draco, "your fathers graduated many years ago, so if any curious student asks, say you're distant relatives. Harry, I would suggest you temporarily share the same last name as Miss Granger, as I presume she is muggle-born and her surname would not raise uncertainty."

"Potter and Granger sharing the same surname? A sign for the future perhaps..." muttered Draco.

Hermione felt herself uncontrollably blush and shot Draco a withering look. He smirked and gave her a quick wink.

Dumbledore paid no attention to this and wandered over to his desk to begin shuffling through a teetering pile of parchment. "Now, as to your accommodation, do you have a preference as to which House you are put in?" he asked.

"Gryffindor," said Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny at the same time that Draco declared "Slytherin."

Dumbledore looked up, amused. "Ah, good. There is space for three in Gryffindor, and two in Slytherin. Harry, Hermione and Ginny, why don't you three take the room in Gryffindor, and Draco and Ron can stay in Slytherin."

Draco and Ron looked at each other, horrified. "Not him!" they said in unison.

"Please Headmaster, anywhere but with Malfoy! Put me in Ravenclaw, I look great in blue. Or I'll even go with the Hufflepuffs, if worse comes to worse! Or you--you can put me in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, or the lake, yeah, yeah the lake! Or the Forbidden Forest, the centaurs'll love me! Or the dungeons, or with the house elves, or anywhere!" begged Ron, putting his hands together pleadingly.

Dumbledore chuckled. "I'm sure you will be fine in Slytherin, Mister Weasley. They can be very hospitable hosts, you know."

"Not to Gryffindors, they're not," mumbled Ron, folding him arms across his chest morosely.

"He's right. Usually we're only nice to people if there's something in it for us, like a free castle. Or a hefty amount of lime cheesecake. We're not agreeable on our own accord," said Draco.

Ron gestured to Draco in a 'you see?' kind of way, but Dumbledore ignored it with a wave of his hand. "Nonsense. You'll do very well in Slytherin. I'll let you go to your rooms now, so you can relax, and I'll have a talk to Madam Pomfrey as to whether she'll be able to get you some clothes and schoolbooks."

Ron froze in the middle of sending particularly hateful glares at Draco and turned to Dumbledore. "What? We still have to work?"

"Of course, you're not to miss out on an education no matter what time you're in," replied Dumbledore, leading them to the door. He ushered them down the spiral staircase and disappeared down a nearby passageway, humming softly to himself.

"Work? Do you realise he just told us that despite the little fact that we just flew twenty years back in time we still have to do work?" said Ron, staring at them all in disbelief.

"Oh, Ron, don't get all huffy. It's going to be so fascinating to get to see how teaching methods have changed over time," said Hermione, positively glowing at the fact that they weren't going to miss out on classes.

"Well," said Draco, looking at Hermione as though she had a particularly nasty disease, "its all been lovely, but if you don't mind I'm going to head over to the Slytherin common room, you know, try and find some people capable of a conversation that isn't mind-numbingly boring." He gave them a mocking wave before turning on his heel and heading down the corridor.

Ron watched him hatefully as he disappeared around the corner. "I can't believe I have to share a room with that jumped-up wanker. Don't be surprised if I end up stuffing a table lamp down his throat while he's sleeping."

***

"Password?"

"We told you already, we don't know it, but we're Gryffindors! Can't you let us in?"

"And I told you that I'm sorry, but without the password no one goes through!" said the Fat Lady shortly, crossing her arms in a huff. "And besides that, I've never seen you before in my life!"

"That's because you haven't met us yet!" snapped Hermione, her hand twitching for her wand. She wasn't sure how well spells worked on paintings, but she wasn't opposed to testing it out.

A mellow voice spoke up behind them and stopped Hermione's ever-growing violent streak from surfacing. "Are you having some trouble there?"

Hermione froze. She had spent endless lessons listening to that voice talk rapturously of dark creatures and protective incantations, and although it was yet to obtain its endearing husky edge, it was unmistakable.

Sure enough, the smiling face of a teenage Professor Lupin greeted them around the side of the towering pile of books wrapped in his arms. "Hello. Who are you all?"

Hermione was the first to cease gaping and she desperately tried to find her voice. "Erm--Hi there. I'm Hermione Granger, this is my--erm--brother, Harry, and this is Ron Weasley and his sister Ginny."

"Oh, hello. I'm Remus. Remus Lupin. How come I've never seen you around at school before?"

Hermione struggled to find a believable answer. "Well..."

"Erm..."

"Ah..."

"We're on exchange!" exclaimed Ginny.

Hermione looked at her gratefully. "Yeah! We go to this small Wizarding school in London that only opened up a few years ago, you know, the Ministry are trying it out to see how it works having two British magic schools. And so this year they wanted to see how an exchange would go. And we were sent here on behalf of our school and Dumbledore's put us in Gryffindor to stay..."

Remus raised an eyebrow and looked at them warily. "Well, I don't quite believe you, but what the hell." He turned to the portrait and whispered the password inaudibly. The Fat Lady reluctantly granted them entry, grumbling obscenities as she swung open.

They entered the familiar common room, festooned proudly with shimmering scarlet and gold, but currently also highly decorated with unconscious Gryffindors passed out due to the excessive celebrations.

Remus rolled his eyes and set his books down on the nearby desk. "They could at least have the decency to pass out in their beds, how am I supposed to study for Monday's Potions test when they're snoring all over the place?" He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his sandy blonde hair. "I'll show you to your room. I suppose you're staying in the spare one, because there's no other free space apart from there..."

*

He led them up to a room at the far end of the corridor, its door unintentionally hidden by an oversized houseplant. The door opened to a room fitted snugly with three heavy wooden beds that were adorned with matching red and gold blankets.

Remus gave them a smile and gestured for them to enter. "Well, I hope you find it alright. There're no classes today, being Sunday, so why don't you have a sleep in and set yourselves up? Lunch and dinner are served in the Great Hall, you can go down when you're ready." He gave them a quick nod before leaving and closed the door.

Ron stared after him. "Bloody hell he looks different, doesn't he? Surprising what twenty years does to people."

Harry gave no reply and dropped down on the bed beside the window, sitting down with his back against the wall. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, a rush of postponed thoughts thundering through his mind.

He knew he should be euphoric that somehow he had been given the chance to come back and spend time with his parents and their friends at a time when they were all alive. But how could he be elated to get this chance when he knew what cruel fate was in store for the future? When he knew that it would be his birth, his mere existence that would lead to the downfall of everyone he loved? When he knew that in little over five years his parents would be dead? It was too much to see them now, so blissfully unaware.

"I trust you've inherited James's unwavering lust for life."

Dumbledore's words sent a sharp stab of guilt through Harry's heavy heart as he recalled how spirited James had been at the party. Who knew how many relatives and friends had been at that party, so many to soon lose their lives. James, Lily, Sirius...

Harry blinked back the hot, furious tears that were rapidly stinging his eyes. The agonising pain was still too raw to think about seeing Sirius here yet. He looked out the window and took a deep breath. The bed sank down as Hermione sat beside him, her familiar lavender scent oddly calming. She slipped her delicate hand into his and leant in so close her dark curls tickled his cheek.

"Do you want us to leave you alone for a while?" she asked him quietly.

Harry glanced at her. She was staring at him so beautifully; her concerned brown eyes studying every inch of his glum expression. "No, I was just thinking of going for a walk. By myself. So I can get a chance to think about this all."

Harry expected her to protest, but she merely nodded. Harry felt a surge of gratitude that she understood, that she made no move to stop him, that there were no questions. He laid his robes down on the bed and took a grey jacket out of the chest of drawers beside his bed, nodding his farewell as he left the room.

*

"Should I go with him?" asked Ron.

"No," said Ginny and Hermione.

Ron frowned. "Why not?"

"Because Harry needs time to work this all out, and he needs to be alone," said Ginny as she flopped down onto the bed by the door.

Ron pulled a stool from beside the wooden dresser and sat down. "Well, what are we supposed to do in the meantime?"

"We are going to work on how we're getting home," said Hermione. "Anybody got any ideas?"

Ron shrugged. "I'm still trying to get over the fact that this was supposed to happen. We were meant to come here."

"I know," agreed Ginny, resting her chin on her hand. "Someone, Merlin knows who, knew this would happen. It's kind of frightening."

They sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, until Hermione rose off the bed.

"Right, well then, I guess I'm going to go and check out anything to do with time-travel in the library," she said, heading to the door. "What are you all going to do?"

"I was going to take a walk as well, just to clear my head," said Ginny, sitting up. "I'll walk down with you to the library, though."

Hermione turned to Ron. "How about you, you want to come help me look up books?"

"Erm, well, I was actually feeling a bit tired, so I was just going to crash for a bit..."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Fine, I guess I'll be saving us from impending doom all by myself today. We'll see you later."

"Hey, Lupin said we should have a sleep-in! Do you really want me to disobey a professor? Well, future professor..."

"It's never stopped you before," snapped Hermione, shutting the door forcefully to stop a response. She stomped down the corridor and Ginny had to hurry to reach her pace.

"Sometimes, your brother is the most aggravating person to ever be in my presence."

Ginny shrugged. "At least you get a break from him over the summer."

"You're right," said Hermione. "There are people worse off than me out there. I feel for you, Gin, I really do."

***

Ginny pulled her violet scarf tighter around her neck, shivering slightly from the frosty wind that was breezing around her. She squinted, protecting her deep-brown eyes from the bright white sea of snow, brighter than usual due to the sun beaming cheerfully down, uncommonly exposed. There was not a cloud tarnishing the impeccable sapphire sky, a rare occurrence during December.

Ginny took that as a pleasant sign that this would be a good day, despite the nagging fact of her walking through a time five years before her own birth. However that fact brought too many confusing thoughts to Ginny's already perplexed mind, so she made the conscious decision to forget her troubles and simply enjoy the present, whatever year it might be.

Her feet crunched merrily in the snow, leaving a path of petite footprints trailing behind her. She made her way around the edge of the castle, letting her mood guide her, and she found herself heading in the direction of the Quidditch sheds. Traipsing along, Ginny was captivated by the breathtaking view of the sun lighting the surface of the lake, making it sparkle as though stars had fallen from the sky and settled themselves in the unmoving water.

An astounding thundering noise emerging from behind the furthest shed startled her out of her peaceful stupor. Despite the fact that this noise was quite mysterious to Ginny, and frankly quite frightening, she decided to satisfy her curiosity and find out what was making that racket. She took a deep breath of cool, crisp winter air, tapped into the deepest resources of her distinctive Gryffindor courage and strode confidently towards the rumbling sound.

Rounding the corner of the red wooden shed, she was stunned to find Sirius Black sitting tranquilly on a gleaming black beast of a motorbike. Sirius raised an inquiring eyebrow and switched off the bike with a flick of his wrist. Ginny couldn't help but notice how attractive and refined Sirius looked, perched so elegantly on the bike's leather seat. Ginny reasoned that any teenage boy that was placed on a motorbike would be an attractive prospect, although the situation improved greatly if the boy in question was good-looking and there was quite a bit of leather involved. Sirius certainly seemed to have taken every option to improve the situation. His dark hair had that casual, uncared look about it (a look which definitely suited him) and his black leather jacket appeared to be tailored to show off his toned and lean body perfectly.

Ginny frankly thought it ought to be a crime for a boy to look that good in simply a jacket and jeans when she herself spent a fair bit of time picking the right outfit and still never felt completely satisfied with her appearance.

She was in the middle of a long internal spiel on how infuriatingly easy it was for boys to look good, when Sirius stood up and waved a hand in front of Ginny's face, giving her a grin that could have melted the four inches of snow covering the entire Hogwarts grounds around them.

"Hi there," he said, smiling mischievously.

Ginny could see why Sirius had been so popular at school. She soon found herself wondering why she was still standing and not jumping on Sirius to ravish him here between the Quidditch sheds. She took a moment to compose herself and shuffled nervously on her feet, astonished that Sirius had this overwhelming effect on her. She was usually so calm and collected when interacting with boys. The only experience she could vaguely relate it to was the crush on Harry she had a couple of years ago, and this feeling was infinitely more intense that the other had ever been.

She swallowed and cleared her throat. "He-hello," was all she managed before blushing a deep scarlet that almost matched the same copper tone of her hair.

He leaned against the wall of the Quidditch shed and grinned at her, apparently amused at her flustered state. "Well, who are you then? I've never seen you around before."

Ginny's face felt so hot she feared at any moment it might burst into flames. She took a deep breath and willed herself to look into Sirius's deep grey eyes. "I'm Ginny."

He cocked his head and looked at her thoughtfully. "And how come I haven't met you before? I'm sure I would have noticed someone like you around."

Ginny wasn't sure whether to take that as a compliment. "I'm on exchange here with two--well three--friends of mine and my brother."

"Exchange? But you're British! Where're you on exchange from?"

"Britain. I go to this small Wizarding School near London, it only opened a few years ago and the Headmaster is trying out an exchange between the two schools to see how it goes," said Ginny in a rather rehearsed fashion.

Sirius looked at her suspiciously. "I've never heard of another Wizarding School in Britain."

Ginny shrugged and shuffled nervously on her feet. They really hadn't worked out their story clearly enough. "Well, that's because it's new. It's kind of on a test-run with the Ministry, so they're keeping pretty quiet about it."

"Oh." Sirius was still surveying her suspiciously, so Ginny decided it was probably a good idea to steer the subject away from such questionable topics.

"Nice bike," she said, walking over and placing a hand on the smooth leather seat.

Sirius beamed and looked fondly at the motorcycle. "It is, isn't it? It's more comfortable to ride than a broom, and nicer to look at too. I bought it a few months ago."

He walked over and mounted the bike, kicking the starter and the motorbike emitted the same deafening roar that had frightened Ginny earlier. He revved the engine and gave Ginny a cheeky grin.

"Care to go for a ride?" he asked, raising an aristocratic eyebrow as if to dare her.

*

Harry traipsed down the desolate corridors of Hogwarts, hands in pockets and eyes on the ground, deep in thought. It was a surreal feeling to be walking the same hallways he had walked for the past five years and yet be in a completely different place all together. The differences were subtle, but for someone like Harry, who practically knew every inch of Hogwarts, there was enough discrepancy to remind him that this wasn't home.

Harry rounded the corner and the luminous silver hair of Draco Malfoy came into vision. Harry went to call out to him, but paused as he noticed Draco talking to someone that Harry had to inch to the left to see properly.

The same greasy dark hair, the same eyes that were almost black and constantly glittered with malice, the same pasty complexion. Severus Snape hadn't changed a bit.

*

Hermione threw the next pile of books heavily onto the table in frustration. She had been searching the endless rows of dusty tomes for anything to do with time-travel, but the closest thing she had found were spells and charms for punctuality, and books on wizards that had invented novelty pocket-watches.

She pushed aside yet another book on watches that could tell where you where you'd been throughout the day, just in case you lost something and needed to retrace your steps. Hermione wondered how you'd be able to find the watch if you lost it if you had always been depending on it to retrace your steps for you.

She groaned in aggravation and placed her elbows on the table, closing her eyes and massaging her temples gently. She was startled when she opened her eyes to find Remus Lupin looking at her concernedly.

"Are you okay?" he asked, taking a seat beside her.

Hermione nodded and disregarded his concern with a wave of her hand. "I'm fine. Just a little headache."

He nodded and looked over at the mountain of books stacked on the desk beside them. "What's all this then? You've been here less than a day and you're already studying? I'm impressed."

Hermione couldn't help slightly blushing, but she shook her head. "No, it's--er--just for personal interest. I'm trying to find out information on time-travel, but unfortunately I've been searching for ages and can't find anything."

"Oh, well you won't find anything in there," said Remus, gesturing to the shelves. "You've got to look in the Restricted Section. They put all the time-travel books in there after some--er--students tried to make their own time-turner."

Hermione inwardly smiled. She could take a very good guess at who those 'students' could have been.

"So how am I going to get into the Restricted Section? You need a note, don't you? But I don't know any of the teachers here and this isn't for class..." said Hermione, biting her lip. She desperately wished Harry had his invisibility cloak with him.

Remus grinned. "Don't worry, I'll help you. Give me five minutes." He stood up and wandered over to the desk of librarian Madam Pince, leaving a bewildered Hermione behind.

*

Ginny found herself nodding and she carefully sat behind Sirius, gripping onto the sides of her seat with shaking hands. She could imagine what her mother would say if she caught sight of her youngest daughter right now, positioned so willingly on this death-trap. Ginny hurriedly pushed the picture of a scolding Molly Weasley to the back of her mind and took a deep breath. Sirius was grinning at her in the side mirror and as she locked eyes with him he gave her a quick wink. He turned the accelerator and the bike lurched forward, throwing Ginny forward into Sirius's back.

They sped down the narrow alley between the Quidditch sheds and Ginny felt the bike slowly rise off the ground as they gathered speed. Her heart jumped and she wrapped her arms around Sirius's waist, hugging him tightly in fear. They were rising up, the same height as the tallest trees in the Forbidden Forest, and the wind was whistling loudly past, whipping Ginny's copper hair every which way.

"You didn't tell me it flew!" she yelled and she felt Sirius's body shake as he cheekily laughed. He turned his head and gave her a smile before Ginny hit him and told him to watch where he was going.

They soared higher and higher until Hogwarts was far below, as tiny as a toy model, surrounded by an ocean of white. The forest stretched out further than Ginny remembered, and the bare trees draped in ice crystals glittered in the sunlight, as though diamonds had replaced the leaves that had long since fallen.

The air was colder the higher they rose, and Ginny snuggled closer to Sirius, burying her face in his shoulder. This time it had nothing to do with fear. Here on the flying motorcycle, with her arms around Sirius, miles above the ground, Ginny felt safer than she had in a long while.

***

References: None for this chapter.

Authors Notes: I know some may think that the description of Dumbledore's office is a little OOC, however Dumbledore strikes me as someone who would embrace pop culture and would have been quite fond of seventies fads. I guess because he's fond of Muggle sweets he wouldn't be opposed to beanbags either.

Next Chapter: A few drunken brawls, a couple of snogs, a broken promise, an offer of darkness and many games of poker.