Harry Potter and the Deadly Deception

Chapter 8 - Keeping Secrets

Hermione was reviewing her Arithmancy notes for a quiz when the letter arrived at breakfast the next morning. Across from her, Ron, who had been heatedly championing the merits of the Chudley Cannons to a skeptical Dean, stopped in mid-sentence and held up a finger to his friend to shush him as Hermione opened the letter. As he watched, her eyes scanned rapidly back and forth across the parchment, and her brow furrowed in concentration. Finally, she looked up to find him watching her.

"What?" she asked as she folded the parchment back up and replaced it inside the grey envelope.

"Well? It's from Krum, isn't it?" Ron asked.

"Yes, it's from Viktor," Hermione replied coolly.

"Hermione, quit being difficult and tell me what it says. You did ask him about Jameson, didn't you?"

"Oh. Yes, I asked him. He says pretty much the same thing about Evan that Evan said about him--that he didn't know him very well, but that he seemed all right. He says Evan played on one of the other school Quidditch teams, and he thinks he was pretty good."

Ron scowled. "Is that all? Didn't you ask him--"

"If he thought Evan might be a Death Eater?" Hermione finished. "Ron, of course I didn't ask him that."

Ron narrowed his eyes at Hermione. "I know you better than that, Hermione. You would have found a way to ask him something."

"Well," Hermione hedged, "I did ask him if Evan had ever been associated with the Dark Arts that he knew of."

"And?"

"He said no, Ron, not in any context other than their normal classes at school."

"Aha!" Ron said triumphantly. "I knew it! They do teach the Dark Arts at Durmstrang. And you just fell for Krum's innocent act hook, line and sinker, didn't you?"

"Ron, I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer. And you're wrong. The only Dark Arts course Viktor mentions as being part of their curriculum is Defense Against the Dark Arts, just like we have."

"Well, of course he wouldn't tell you, would he?" Ron sneered. "Anyway, it doesn't mean anything. He said he didn't know Jameson well, so he probably wouldn't know if he was into the Dark Arts or not."

"Ron, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar."

"What? Hermione, what are you talking about?"

Hermione sighed, having forgotten that Muggle psychology wasn't likely to be a common topic of conversation in the Wizarding world. "I mean, maybe Evan Jameson is nothing more than a transfer student, just like he says he is. I think that perhaps we should just leave it alone. We have more important things to focus on for now. "

"Such as?" Ron asked.

"You have Quidditch. We both have our research projects for Defense Against the Dark Arts, and I have my independent study for Arithmancy. Oh, it's so exciting! Professor Vector let us spend the second half of our class in the library yesterday and gave us all access to the restricted section. You won't believe what I found in...." She trailed off suddenly, and looked around as if she wondered whether someone may be listening to them.

"I won't believe what?" Ron prompted.

"Oh, never mind. You aren't interested in Arithmancy anyway, and if we don't finish breakfast soon, we'll be late for class." As she finished, Hermione looked down and refused to meet Ron's eyes again, focusing instead on spooning up the last of her porridge.

Strange, he thought. Ron made a mental note to ask her about the library again later, when there weren't so many people around. Although, knowing Hermione, it was probably just some obscure spell for memory improvement, or reading retention or something else equally boring but guaranteed to help her make the most of her precious study time. He started to turn back to Dean, but was distracted by the sudden appearance of his sister at the table.

"Oh, Merlin, I can't believe I overslept," Ginny panted as she slid into the seat next to Hermione. "Pass the toast, would you, Hermione?"

Ron and Hermione both watched in half fascination and half horror as Ginny took a slice of toast and spread it with a generous scoop of marmalade, then added some poached eggs and a large dollop of porridge before sprinkling the top with two strips of crumbled bacon. She squashed another slice of toast down on top of her creation, wrapped it in a napkin, and then began guzzling down a glass of pumpkin juice. Ron looked over at Dean to see what he thought of Ginny's culinary eccentricities. The look on Dean's face could only be described as admiration. Ron shook his head. The boy obviously had it bad.

Ginny slammed her glass back down on the table and stood, grabbing the napkin-wrapped sandwich and nearly tipping Hermione's juice over in her haste.

"Sorry!" she said. "I've got to run. I have Divination first period. I'll never make it on time!"

Ginny slung her rucksack over one shoulder and dashed back towards the doors of the Great Hall. Dean's eyes followed her as she left, a look of bewildered hurt evident on his face. Without bothering to finish his breakfast, he gathered his own books and stood to follow her.

"See you, Ron," he said as he dashed away, calling for Ginny to wait. Ginny's stride faltered for a moment, but she refused to stop and wait for him. However, Dean caught up to her before she managed to reach the entrance and as Hermione and Ron watched, began what looked like a plea for forgiveness.

"She was pretty upset with him after I managed to coax her into the common room last night, you know. Probably even more upset than she was with you," Hermione commented. "Do you think she'll forgive him?"

"Yeah. Ginny's like Mum...flash-point temper. But once she's exploded, she gets over it and moves on. She rarely holds a grudge. They'll be snogging again by the end of the day, I'll bet."

"Are you okay with that?" Hermione asked.

Ron turned to look at her. "Yeah, I think so. Dean's ok. I just...I always kind of thought she and Harry...."

"I know. So did I," Hermione said wistfully. "But, like you said, Dean's ok. He really likes Ginny." The bell signaling that they only had five minutes left before their first class of the day sounded loudly just then, and Hermione hastily finished the rest of her juice. "Hurry up," she said, motioning to Ron's plate. "Professor McGonagall will give us detention if we're late."

Ron snagged another couple of pieces of bacon to eat on the way, and then together they sprinted towards the Transfiguration classroom. As they climbed the staircase to the first floor, they met Neville coming the other way. When he passed them without a word, Hermione and Ron looked at each other, and then reversed direction to follow their friend.

"Hey, Neville, wait a tick," Ron called.

Neville halted in the middle of the staircase and looked back at them, appearing slightly dazed. "Oh, 'lo Ron, Hermione. Didn't see you. I was just headed for Transfiguration. Where are you two going?"

"Neville," Hermione began gently, "in the first place, you're going the wrong way. And in the second place, didn't Professor McGonagall excuse you from classes for the next few days?"

"Did she?" Neville asked, sounding confused. "I guess I forgot."

Hermione stepped down once and peered more closely at him. He was pasty-faced, and his eyes were red with great dark circles underneath. Hermione looked around for eavesdroppers, then spoke in a low voice.

"You didn't sleep at all last night, did you?" she asked.

Neville shook his head, then swallowed hard and looked down at his feet.

"Who can blame him?" Ron asked. "After Harry.... I don't think I slept for days."

Hermione and Ron had been studying together in the common room the previous evening when Neville had wandered in, looking pale and shaken. Alarmed, Hermione led him over to one of the sofas, afraid he wouldn't make it on his own power. When she had asked him what was the matter, the only thing he had been able to do was hand her a piece of parchment. Hermione was shocked to read that Neville's grandmother had been found dead at her home in Lancashire. Eventually Neville was able to tell them that Professor McGonagall had called him into her office after classes and explained that she had received an owl from his Uncle Algie. When Neville had insisted, she had given him the letter. However, it contained pitifully few details, save that the cause of her death was unknown and that authorities were conducting an investigation.

Hermione had asked, "Neville, what are you doing here? Why didn't Professor McGonagall send you to the infirmary?"

"She...she tried," Neville answered. "I didn't want to go there. I...I didn't want to be alone. I wanted to be with...with family. So I came here."

Tears had sprung to Hermione's eyes and she had grabbed Neville in a fierce hug. Even Ron's eyes had seemed a bit watery, and he had cleared his throat several times. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse.

"You did right, Neville," was all he said. He joined them on the sofa, sitting on the other side of Neville, and together the three of them had sat in silence, numb. None of them said it, but the obvious thought that had crossed their minds was that Neville's gran had been a victim of the killing curse. Will this ever end? Hermione thought. When other students began wandering in, she had decided it would be best to put Neville to bed. She followed the two boys up to their dormitory, where she and Ron kept Neville company until he appeared to drift into a restless slumber.

Now, Hermione still found herself unable to find the words to comfort Neville, but she did her best. "Neville, maybe it was just her time. She wasn't young, after all. Death is...a natural part of the circle of life," she finished, cringing at the platitude.

"Maybe," Neville replied, "but she was only 97. I think we all know what happened."

"But why?" Hermione asked. "Why would they--"

She didn't get to finish her sentence because the second bell rang.

"We'd better get to class," Ron said. "If we hurry, maybe McGonagall will give us a pass this time."

"You go ahead, Ron. Tell Professor McGonagall that I'm escorting Neville to the hospital wing. I'm certain she'll understand."

"All right. I'll come by and check in on you later, Neville." Ron attempted a half-hearted smile then started back up the staircase, followed by Hermione and Neville. At the landing, they parted company.

"Don't forget to take notes for me," Hermione called after Ron as he loped off towards the Transfiguration classroom.

Ron waved without looking back to show he'd heard. Hermione turned to Neville, and saw that he was swaying lightly on his feet. She grabbed him by the arm to prevent him from tumbling backwards down the staircase.

"Come on, Neville, let's get you to Madam Pomfrey," she said, gently pulling him in the direction of the hospital wing.

"Thanks, Hermione."

"Shush. No thanks necessary. We're family, remember?" Hermione squeezed his Neville's lightly for emphasis.

Neville smiled sadly, his eyes shining. "Right. Family."

~~~~~~~~~~

Much to Ginny's chagrin, Dean followed her through the castle. She had hoped he would get the message and leave off until they could discuss the matter in private, but he persisted in his attempts to get her to talk to him.

"Ginny, I don't understand. Why are you so angry with me?" he pleaded.

"If you don't understand, I can't help you, Dean, especially not now. I'm late for class." Ginny increased her pace, but with his longer legs, Dean was able to keep up easily. She absolutely refused to be seen running through the castle, with Dean in pursuit. Finally, she rounded on him underneath the entrance to Trelawney's tower.

"Dean Thomas, do you mean to tell me that you have absolutely NO idea why I'm angry?" Ginny demanded.

"It's not that I have no idea. I understand that you're angry about what happened last night with Jameson, I just don't understand why," Dean explained in a bewildered tone.

Ginny sighed heavily and wondered if all boys were completely thick, or if it was only boys that attended Hogwarts, or perhaps even if it was just the Gryffindor boys

"Dean, I expected Ron to behave like a complete prat. He's been suspicious of Evan ever since they met on the train, and he's always been overprotective of me. But you..."

"Ginny, all I did was introduce myself and thank him for walking back with you."

"Dean, I'm not stupid." Ginny's lips pressed together in a thin line, and she gazed steadily at Dean until he could no longer meet her gaze.

"Okay, maybe it wasn't exactly like that," he admitted sheepishly.

"Dean, I know we've only just started going out, but you've known me for four years, now. Have I ever said or done anything that would make you think you couldn't trust me?"

"Of course not, Ginny," Dean protested, "but it's not you I don't trust."

"I think it is," Ginny countered. "I don't think either you or Ron trusts that I'm old enough to make sound decisions about who I choose to be friends with."

Dean was silent for a moment, then he lightly touched Ginny under her chin and tipped her face up towards his. "I trust you, Ginny. I was just...concerned when it took you so long to get back to the common room. I know," he explained when she began to protest. "I understand you had things to discuss with Jameson and Professor Shacklebolt. Still, he's a Slytherin." He paused and placed a finger against Ginny's lips when she would have protested again. "And I wouldn't have been so concerned if I didn't, well, care for you as much as I do."

Ginny's heart melted a little when she saw that Dean sincerely meant what he was saying. Still, she wasn't certain if she was ready for Dean to care quite so much about her. In any case, she didn't have time to think about it now; glancing at her watch, she shook her head when she realized she was already five minutes late for Divination.

"Dean, we'll finish talking about this later, okay? Right now, I really need to get to class."

Ginny was surprised when Dean leaned over and kissed her softly. Her cheeks grew warm, and she looked around to see if anyone was watching. Fortunately, they seemed to be alone in the corridor.

"I'll see you at lunch, then?" he asked.

"Yes," Ginny answered softly, the corners of her mouth tilting upwards in a small smile.

Dean grinned, backing away slowly. He waved once before finally turning around and disappearing around a corner. Ginny returned the wave, then climbed up the rope ladder and was met with the oppressive heat of the Divination classroom. Ginny often wondered if Professor Trelawney deliberately kept the classroom warm in order to distract and disorient her students to the point that they no longer cared whether or not their teacher was competent, so long as the class ended quickly.

I've got to learn some cooling charms, she thought to herself as she crossed over to the table she shared with Luna Lovegood on the other side of the room. Luna was already there, gazing into a crystal ball. Ginny bit back a moan of frustration; she hated the crystal ball. Sometimes she could actually see patterns in tea leaves, at least well enough to fake it. Tarot was simply a matter of memorizing facts and figures about each card, as far as she was concerned. Trelawney had never batted an eye at Ginny's Tarot predictions; she had received special tutoring from Ron on the subject, ever since her third year. Sometimes Harry had helped, too....

Ginny quickly squelched that thought and plunked herself down into the chair across from Luna.

"Good morning," Luna said in a dreamy voice that was not unlike Professor Trelawney's.

"'Morning Luna," Ginny answered. She glanced furtively around the room and determined that Professor Trelawney had not made an appearance in the classroom, yet. Guess the fates told her she was going to be late today, Ginny thought. She took advantage of the opportunity to gulp down the sandwich she had stashed in her rucksack, while Luna stared intently into the cloudy crystal before her.

"See anything interesting?" Ginny asked.

"Mmm-hmm," Luna replied vaguely. "I see a girl. She's fallen madly in love with a tall, dark, handsome stranger. She's going to marry him and have half a dozen children, all boys. Well, it's difficult to tell about the last one. Might be a girl."

Ginny snorted. "Dean's not a stranger. And I'm not ready to book the chapel just yet, Luna."

Luna looked up from the crystal for the first time and gave Ginny an appraising look. "No," she said finally. "I don't suppose you are. Still, he's good company, yes?"

Ginny smiled. "Exceedingly. So," she said, nodding toward the crystal, "Nothing yet?"

"Nothing. I've never been skilled at crystal gazing. I prefer scrying with water. I think the magical properties of crystals are highly overrated," Luna explained.

"I think it's all bunk," retorted Ginny. "Still, I supposed you'd better let me have a crack at it."

"Of course." Luna pushed the crystal towards Ginny. "Try to come up with something new, though, Ginny. Even Professor Trelawney is unlikely to accept 'mauled by a rampaging Hippogriff' as your dire fate yet again. I have a feeling Ronald overused that one himself."

Ginny nodded and began staring into the crystal, much like Luna had been doing when she had first sat down. After five minutes of seeing nothing but swirling smoke on the inside of the crystal, she leaned back in her chair.

"I give up. I have no inner eye, and I'm glad of it. With my luck, I would probably wind up like Cassandra...no one would believe me," Ginny elaborated, when Luna looked puzzled.

Ginny pushed the crystal back towards Luna, who resumed gazing into it. Ginny watched Luna carefully, and when Luna's eyes began to unfocus, she quietly slipped a piece of parchment from her rucksack and dated it with her quill. Moments later, Luna began muttering softly, and Ginny began scribbling furiously as the other girl described things she could see.

"A cup...shattered on the floor. A card...the Four of Wands. But it looks odd. The wands are all different colors, and no one is dancing."

"What colors?" Ginny asked in a low voice.

"Red, blue, green and gold," Luna answered slowly.

Ginny recorded Luna's response and then waited again. Luna soon continued.

"A shadow."

"Of what?" Ginny asked.

"I can't see. Just a shadow. And...I think...a stag, with a rider." Luna's voice trailed off, and she said nothing more. After a moment her eyes focused on Ginny. "I think that's probably it for the day."

Ginny studied the parchment, wondering what to make of it. "That's definitely one of the stranger sessions you've had," she commented. Ginny started to hand the parchment to Luna, but at that moment Professor Trelawney appeared at her elbow.

"Good morning, dears," she said in her usual misty voice.

"Good morning, Professor," the girls chorused together.

Professor Trelawney took the parchment and tutted as she read over what Ginny had written. "Too much chocolate clouding your vision again, Miss Lovegood? Do try to focus a bit harder. And what about you, Miss Weasley?" she asked, returning the parchment to Ginny.

"I haven't seen anything today, Professor," Ginny responded.

The professor clucked again. "The members of your family seem to have the misfortune of having no more inner eye than most Muggles, I'm afraid," she said absently. "Except for perhaps your brother Percy. He was one of the better students in his year. I hope he has put his talents to good use since leaving Hogwarts. The fates have whispered to me that we may be seeing him again, soon."

Didn't realize the Daily Prophet corresponded with the Fates, Ginny thought. She rolled her eyes and looked out towards one of the windows. She had already been reprimanded once this term for speaking sharply to Professor Trelawney. If it happened again, Ginny was certain she would receive a detention. She bit her tongue until the professor drifted away to the next table. When Ginny focused her gaze on Luna once more, she saw that the other girl had covered her mouth with her hand to hide her smile.

"What are you laughing at?" Ginny growled.

"You," Luna answered. "You shouldn't let her get to you, Ginny."

"I know. Aren't you supposed to be focusing?" Ginny asked pointedly.

"I don't think I'll get anything else today." Luna reached across the table for the parchment and read over the items in her "visions". "You know, I think the chocolate helped. I'll have to purchase more chocolate frogs at Honeyduke's when we go to Hogsmeade." As Luna's eyes continued to scan the page, her brow wrinkled in puzzlement. "I don't know what to make of any of this. Mum was much better at scrying than I am," she said, sighing.

"Do you really see these things in the crystal, and not just in your head?" Ginny asked.

"It's hard to explain. The crystal acts as a focal point. When I see something, I see it everywhere. In my head, in the crystal, right in front of me."

"All I ever see is the smoke."

"Professor Firenze is right...true divination is a rare gift. It isn't a skill you can develop if the ability isn't present to begin with," Luna explained. "It's usually hereditary."

"Guess Trelawney was right, then. I don't recall there ever being a seer in my family. Are you ever going to tell anyone?"

"Not unless I have to. Professor Dumbledore knows, though. Every female child in my mum's line had the sight to some extent, though some less than others," Luna explained, sighing.

"You'll get better, Luna. Want to try again? We've still got half the period left."

"Yes. Oh, before I forget, here."

Luna handed Ginny a rolled up parchment that turned out to be the latest issue of The Quibbler, the magazine that Luna's father owned. Ginny looked at Luna questioningly.

"Page 4, but not now," Luna said cryptically. "Trelawney will take it up if she sees it. There's an article in there about Diamond-back Guzzlemaws." When Ginny looked at her oddly again, Luna elaborated, "She collects them."

"The articles, or the Guzzlemaws?" Ginny asked.

"Both," Luna replied matter-of-factly before she resumed peering into the crystal once again.

~~~~~~~~~~

Harry sat in the back of the Transfiguration classroom. He had made it a point on the first day of class to choose a seat as far from Ron and Hermione as he possibly could. Sometimes he was able to slouch down in just his seat enough that Professor McGonagall did not seem to notice him when she called on students to demonstrate a new incantation. Today, he wasn't so lucky. She was walking around the room from desk to desk, grading each student's attempt at transfiguring a rabbit into a fern. This was their first lesson in transfiguring one life form into another. Harry had been struggling with it all morning, and had yet to complete the maneuver successfully. The most he had been able to do was turn his rabbit slightly green.

It was his turn. The professor stepped up to Harry's desk and nodded at him. "Mr. Jameson?"

Harry took a deep breath, then twirled his wand around in the complicated figure eight motion the Professor had demonstrated at the beginning of the period, and cried, "Cunniculus filicatus!"

The rabbit promptly sprouted small fern leaves where once its fur had been. Harry moaned in frustration.

"Perhaps you should move closer to the front of the room, Mr. Jameson. The proper incantation is 'cunniculus filicis.'" Keep practicing. I'll be back before the end of the period, and you may try again." She moved on to the next student.

Harry heard snickers to his left, and discovered Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle watching him.

"What are you looking at?" he grumbled.

"That was pathetic, Jameson," Malfoy said between guffaws.

"Then let's see you do any better," Harry said in a low voice. He didn't want to attract Professor McGonagall's attention.

Malfoy smirked, pointed his wand at this rabbit and muttered the incantation. With a soft "whoosh," the rabbit morphed into an attractive potted plant.

"Very nice, Mr. Malfoy," said Professor McGonagall, who had been observing unnoticed. "However, the assignment is to transfigure the rabbit into a fern, not a geranium. Keep trying."

Harry coughed to cover his own laughter at the scowl on Malfoy's face.

"Shut it," Malfoy hissed.

Harry ignored him and went back to work. By the end of the period, he had finally managed to transform the rabbit into something resembling a small fern, though somewhat hairy. He was satisfied when McGonagall gave him 90% for the day.

Unfortunately, Malfoy decided to accompany him to his next class.

"Heard you and the Weaselette were looking cozy after the meeting last night," Malfoy said, grinning.

Harry realized Malfoy's tone implied that they were much more than "cozy," and felt his blood begin to boil at the insinuation. Malfoy had absolutely no business talking about or even thinking about Ginny in that manner.

"She's one of the DA facilitators," Harry said shortly. "That's all there is to it. Professor Shacklebolt and two other students were there, too."

"Except that they left," Malfoy said.

"How would you know?" Harry demanded. No one had been around when he and Ginny had walked to Gryffindor tower. He was certain of it.

"I have my sources. You know, the Room of Requirement can be anything you want it to be. Even a bedroom. Though, I doubt the Weaselette needs much more than a broom closet to do any 'facilitating'," Malfoy said in an oily voice. Crabbe and Goyle, who were following behind them, chortled.

Harry's hand clenched into a fist. Just when he was about to drop his books to swing, Professor Dumbledore interrupted from behind them.

"Mr. Jameson, a word please."

Malfoy sneered, but he left without further comment, followed by Crabbe and Goyle. Deprived of a target for his frustration, Harry turned and punched the stone wall as hard as he could. He hardly noticed the resulting pain in his knuckles, so great was his anger at Malfoy and at the entire word at that moment. Then he turned to Dumbledore.

"Why'd you stop me?" he asked.

"I believe you know the answer to that as well as I do, Evan. Fighting is forbidden anywhere inside or around Hogwarts Castle."

"But the things he said about Ginny...and me.... He's disgusting," Harry finished, looking down at the blood that was now trickling from his hand. His next class was History of Magic; he would be a Slytherin in an entire room full of no one besides Gryffindors. What I wouldn't do for a skiving snackbox right about now, Harry thought.

"You don't look well, Mr. Jameson," Dumbledore said calmly.

"No sir, I'm certain I don't," Harry answered. His hand was beginning to throb a bit now

"Perhaps you should visit Madam Pomfrey, then. I believe she may have the perfect remedy for your hand, and for your headache."

Harry realized then that his head was pounding. It felt as if he was being struck repeatedly by Cornish pixies with miniscule hammers. His shoulders slumped gratefully; he knew he wouldn't have been able to control his temper if anything else had happened today.

"Yes, sir. I think I should," he said, nodding, which had the unfortunate side-effect of causing the pixies with the hammers to re-double their efforts.

"Go ahead then," the professor said. "I will make your excuses to your professors and instruct them to send your assignments for the day by owl. You are excused from classes for the rest of the day, except," Dumbledore continued when Harry began to step away, "except for your independent study with me. I will expect you at 4 o'clock sharp."

"Yes sir," Harry answered.

Professor Dumbledore smiled and bid Harry farewell, then continued on towards the grand staircase ahead of Harry. Harry followed him until Dumbledore disappeared through the door that led to Professor Binns's classroom on the first floor, then Harry continued on to the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey applied an ointment to his now swollen knuckles and gave him a pain relieving draught to take with him, with instructions not to swallow it until he had returned to his dormitory, as it would induce drowsiness almost immediately. Once he had reached the safety of his bed, Harry popped the cork on the small bottle and downed the downed the dose in one gulp. He then rolled over and buried his head in his pillow, hoping he wouldn't wake up until the next morning.

~~~~~~~~~~

Unfortunately, Harry did not sleep until the next morning. He woke from a three-hour nap just in time to attend his Occlumency session with Professor Dumbledore. When he rolled onto his back, he noticed Hedwig was perched on her stand beside his bed.

"Hello, how did you get here?" he asked.

Hedwig squawked and fluttered over to a pile of parchments on Harry's desk, which she picked up and carried back to the bed to drop on his face. He sat up and began sifting through the parchments, then sighed when he realized they were his homework assignments. He shoved them into his rucksack; he could work on them later. For now, he was due at Professor Dumbledore's office.

"Come on," he said to Hedwig. "You can fly back to the Owlery."

Harry held his arm out to Hedwig, and she alit gently upon it. When he made to open the door, it swung open abruptly, and he had to jump back to avoid being hit in the face. He stepped aside to allow Theodore Nott to pass by. Nott was carrying a large book in one arm, which he hastily shoved inside his robes as he walked past Harry.

"Hello," Harry said to the boy.

"Hi," came the terse reply.

"Had a good day?" Harry asked. He thought he might as well attempt to get along with his roommates, as he was stuck with them for the foreseeable future.

Nott turned and gave Harry a typical Slytherin sneer, though it was missing much of Malfoy's virulence. "Look, I'm busy. I have lots of homework, and I don't have time for small talk, so go away."

Taken aback, Harry was only able to mumble, "Sorry," before walking out the door and leaving Nott alone in the dormitory. He thought the boy's behavior was strange, but then again, all Slytherin behavior seemed strange to him. He pushed the incident to the back of his mind as he wound his way around the dreary dungeon passageways. Finally, he reached the ground floor, where he made a detour to the main entrance to the castle in order to allow Hedwig the chance to stretch her wings. She would be able to reach the Owlery on her own from outside.

"See you soon, Hecuba," he whispered to the owl, scratching her head affectionately before releasing her. He watched her take flight, squinting up against the afternoon sun until her dark coat became a speck in the bright sky. He then scrambled to make it to Professor Dumbledore's office by the appointed time. When he reached the stone gargoyle, Dumbledore was waiting for him.

"Good afternoon, Evan. Has your headache abated?"

"Yes, sir. I'm fine now, thanks."

"Good, good. Then you're ready to begin. I've decided we should practice somewhere besides my office today. It's so cramped with all of my oddments, we wouldn't be able to concentrate."

Harry was confused when Dumbledore ushered him into the alcove behind the gargoyle. Perhaps Dumbledore needed to retrieve something from his office before they could begin the lesson?

Then Dumbledore said, "Cockroach Cluster."

With a rumble of stone on stone, the floor beneath them shifted slowly downward until Harry could see that the spiral staircase descended into a narrow passageway extending below the surface of the floor. Harry was oddly pleased; here was a secret that Fred, George and probably even the Marauders had never known about.

At the bottom of the staircase was a wooden doorway that opened into a spacious sitting room, decorated in earthy shades of brown and gold. Well-cushioned chairs and sofas replete with squashy pillows were placed haphazardly about at odd angles to one another. Beneath Harry's feet was a lush, thickly padded carpet, which absorbed the impact of his steps so completely that he was able to glide across the room without making a sound. Along the walls were several landscape paintings, some of which illustrated certain vantage points at or near Hogwarts Castle. At the opposite end of the room, Harry spied an open door that led into several other chambers, and it dawned upon him that these were Professor Dumbledore's personal quarters. A fire was crackling merrily in the fireplace, and a tea service tray was waiting for them on a narrow table behind one of the sofas.

"Would you like some tea?" the professor asked as he began pouring himself a cup.

"Yes, please." Harry was startled by his own response. He hadn't truly wanted the tea, but something gave him the idea that Dumbledore would insist, even if he refused.

"Good." Dumbledore poured a second cup and handed it to Harry. "It's a special blend, gingko and ginseng, both of which are good for clarity of the mind, and helpful when performing mental exercises."

Harry took a sip of the tea and grimaced at the bitterness. He added a lump of sugar and stirred. His second taste was much more pleasant. Dumbledore motioned him over to one of the sofas, and Harry took a seat. Dumbledore sat across from him. Harry had noticed that he took no sugar in his own tea, which surprised him, knowing the professor's propensity for sweets.

Dumbledore must have noticed his quizzical expression, for he said, "Despite my fondness for sherbet lemons, I don't take sugar in my tea. I find it muddles the natural properties of the leaves. Drink up. We have much to accomplish this afternoon before dinner."

Harry finished his tea quickly and returned the cup to the tray, as did Dumbledore, then he remained standing, waiting for instructions from the Headmaster.

"Sit back down, Evan," Professor Dumbledore said gently. He also sat, reclaiming his seat across from Harry.

Strange, Harry thought. Snape had never invited him to sit during their sessions, but he did as his professor instructed. He noticed Dumbledore studying him closely, and felt a distinct uneasiness begin to seep into his bones. Finally, the professor spoke again.

"Based on your experiences with Occlumency last term, you're probably already aware that strong emotions can be counter-productive to work of this nature, Evan. Anger, in particular, is directly in opposition to the skills you'll be building upon in order to successfully shield your mind. Before we begin, is there anything you'd like to tell me?"

Harry laughed bitterly. "Then I'm afraid I'm doomed to failure, Professor Dumbledore. Lately anger is about the only thing I do feel. Take that away from me, and there won't be anything left."

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "I don't want to take away your anger. I merely meant that telling me would help you set it aside temporarily."

"Where do I begin? October 31st, 1981? Or do you just want this week's list?"

"This week will do, Evan."

"Fine. Why didn't you tell me that Umbridge had been exonerated? "

"It's complicated, Harry."

"Don't give me that. It's always complicated."

This statement gave Dumbledore pause, and when he spoke again, he sounded humbled.

"Of course, you're right. I didn't tell you because there wasn't anything you could have done about it, Evan."

"Are you joking? She was going to use an Unforgivable curse on me! She should have been locked up in Azkaban, right along with Lucius Malfoy. I could have testified...." Harry trailed off, realizing as soon as the words were out of his mouth how foolish they were.

"Harry could possibly have testified. But Evan Jameson wasn't there."

"What about Hermione, and Ron? They were there. So were Ginny, Neville and Luna."

"As were Miss Bulstrode, Mr. Crabbe, Mr. Warrington, and Mr. Malfoy, who testified to Minister Fudge that Madam Umbridge was acting within her rights to punish students who were caught vandalizing her office. As Madam Umbridge didn't actually use the curse, there was little evidence to prove she intended to do so, other than the testimony of several students who were caught breaking the rules. Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley and the others were declared by Minister Fudge to be unreliable witnesses and were not allowed to testify during the inquisitorial hearing. Madam Umbridge was proven to have been acting under what she believed to be ministry orders."

"What about the Dementors?" Harry asked. "She admitted that she sent them after me."

"Dementors are unpredictable, Harry. Umbridge claimed she sent the Dementors to protect you from possible Death Eater activity."

"Right." Harry shook his head in disbelief. When it all came down to it, it didn't really matter. He had bigger things to be concerned about than Dolores Umbridge.

Professor Dumbledore gave him a few minutes to collect his thoughts before asking, "Are you ready, now?"

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

"Very well. Now, close your eyes and concentrate on the sound of my voice, Evan...."

Harry began to relax as he recognized one of the techniques he had read about in the books that Dumbledore had loaned him.

"Clear your mind...."

Harry had already attempted some of the exercises on his own while reading through the first chapters of his texts, as Dumbledore had suggested. Clearing his mind was a concept he couldn't seem to grasp any better now than he had with Professor Snape, however. Random thoughts jostled together in his mind, each one demanding his attention. Ron, telling him to leave Ginny alone. Hermione, asking him about Viktor Krum. Cho, shaking his hand. Ginny, walking next to Dean. The Hogwarts Express. Malfoy. Hedwig. The Leaky Cauldron. The Butterbeer. Sirius.

Harry gasped as his head snapped up and his eyes opened to find Professor Dumbledore watching him.

"Evan?"

"I'm all right. I just.... I can't seem to clear my mind. No matter how hard I try, I always wind up thinking about something."

"I think you may be trying too hard."

Professor Dumbledore seemed perplexed, and he rubbed his chin thoughtfully with his hand as he pondered the situation. Harry sat tensely for a moment, until the Professor's brow unfurrowed, and he rose from his seat to retrieve a candle from the mantle.

"Incendio," he whispered, pointing his wand at the wick, which flared into life. Dumbledore then pointed his wand at one of the end tables next to the sofa Harry occupied, waved his wand and called out, "Ambulo!"

The table skittered on four legs over to Harry and plunked itself down in front of him. Professor Dumbledore then placed the candle on the tabletop and sat back down across from Harry.

"Now, this time I want you to focus on the flame of the candle while you listen to my voice. Don't worry about whether or not you are thinking anything. Simply allow your body to relax as you watch the flame. Let the sound of my voice guide you."

Harry nodded, then focused on the small flame before him. He watched as it danced, swaying from side to side in small currents of air. He noticed that the heart of the flame was the brightest; if he looked closely, he could even see a tinge of blue at the very center. The room around him grew dim, and Professor Dumbledore's voice grew indistinct as Harry disregarded everything but the glowing flame. Distantly, he realized that the Professor was asking him a question.

"Can you hear me, Evan?"

Harry nodded.

"Good. You're doing very well. Stay focused on the flame, but listen to my voice."

Harry nodded again.

"I want you to know that you are in a safe place. No harm can befall you here. Allow your body to relax, and open your mind."

Voldemort, thought Harry. Voldemort will sense me.

"No, Evan, he won't. Remember what I told you."

Harry remembered.

~~~~~~~~~~

17 August 1996

"No. No. He's not dead. Sirius!"

"Harry, wake up." Professor Dumbledore shook Harry gently, attempting to rouse him from the nightmare.

Harry bolted upright in the middle of the bed, looking frantically around the room. "Sirius?" he asked.

"No, Harry. Sirius is gone."

Harry blinked in surprise, then his face crumpled as he recalled the events at the end of last term, a well as the events of the past week. He rolled over in the bed and faced the wall.

"Go away and leave me alone."

"I can't do that, Harry."

"Why not?" Harry whipped back around, his eyes burning with anger. "I'm nobody now, remember? Thanks to you, Harry Potter doesn't exist. He's dead. I have no life, there's no need to worry about someone who doesn't exist, so just bloody well leave me alone!"

With that, Harry rolled out of the bed and began pulling clothes out of the trunk that Dumbledore had managed to retrieve from the Dursleys'. They had left it on the curb like so much garbage. He stripped out of his pajamas and threw on a jumper and a pair of jeans, then began searching for his trainers.

"What are you doing, Harry?"

"I'm leaving. I'm getting out of this house and away from you, away from everything. I thought I could do this, but I can't. If I'm going to be nobody, I'm going to do it somewhere else."

"I cannot allow you to do that, Harry."

"Really? Well, I'm bloody sick and tired of hearing about what you can't do. You can't let me leave, you can't leave me alone, you can't let me see Ron and Hermione, you can't protect me from Voldemort and you can't bring back Sirius! You can't do anything!"

Dumbledore did not respond to Harry's ranting, he merely stood back while Harry finished dressing himself, then flung the door open and ran into the hall and down the stairs. It was after midnight; Mrs. Figg was the only other occupant of the house, and either she had not been awakened by the racket Harry was making, or she had chosen to ignore it. When Harry finally reached the front door, he felt a surge of fierce joy in his heart. Beyond that door lay freedom.

But it wouldn't budge. Harry wheeled around to find Dumbledore standing silently behind him, his arms resting passively against his sides.

"Open the door," Harry demanded.

"No," Dumbledore said firmly.

"Damn you!"

Harry launched himself at Dumbledore without thinking. It was all his fault. Everything he had suffered from the time he was a year old could be attributed to the man standing before him. Dumbledore was the one who had left him with the Dursleys to face ten years of scorn and neglect. Dumbledore had failed to tell him the truth about his connection to Voldemort, the truth about the prophecy, the truth about his parents. Dumbledore had let that hag Umbridge infiltrate the school with her poison, had let Fudge make a mockery of him in the Daily Prophet, had let the Dementors attack him at the Dursleys' last summer. Dumbledore had let Sirius die. He hated Albus Dumbledore.

"Impedimenta!" Dumbledore shouted in a terrible voice.

Harry was hurled away from the professor and crashed into the front door. Before he could react, Dumbledore shouted again.

"Immobulus!"

Harry couldn't budge an inch; he was frozen where he lay against the door. He seethed inside, wanting nothing more than to get his hands around the headmaster's throat and throttle him, but somewhere inside, a small part of him was mortified at his own behavior. He had just physically attacked his headmaster.

"I'm sorry to have to resort to such tactics, Harry, but you've forced my hand. I can't let you go out that door, no matter how much I might wish I could. The safety of too many people, including your own, is at stake." Dumbledore took a deep breath before he continued. "If your own safety means nothing to you, Harry, at least think of your friends. If Voldemort suspects for even a moment that you're still alive, he will stop at nothing to find you. Where do you think he would start?"

Ron. Hermione. The Weasleys.

Tears of frustration and anger began to trickle down Harry's face, but there was nothing he could do about it. Dumbledore could see that his anger had not abated, and therefore had not released him from the jinx yet. He stood before Harry now with a look of sorrow on his face. Harry didn't think he had ever seen him look so old, not even two months ago, after the disaster at the Ministry of Magic.

"I know you hate me right now, Harry, and I don't blame you. I know the situation you're in is horrible, and that you feel I'm the one that put you there, and I can't deny there is some truth there. But, Harry, you cannot leave. You probably haven't thought of it yet, but your link to Voldemort is still there. It is dormant for now, but it will not remain that way if you leave."

Dear Merlin. The scar. Voldemort. How could I have forgotten? Harry's anger slowly began to fade, and he looked up at Dumbledore in a manner that he hoped would communicate his contrition.

The professor nodded, pointed his wand at Harry and murmured, "Finite Incantatem."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. It had been difficult to breathe while he was immobilized; his chest could only move so far. Dumbledore motioned for him to get up, but Harry shook his head and remained where he was, feeling that all of his energy had drained out of him along with his anger. He looked up at Dumbledore from where he sat and asked, "Why is it dormant?"

"I've shielded that part of your mind from Voldemort, Harry. But at best, it's only a temporary solution. That kind of shielding requires the deepest of magics and is extremely draining to maintain over a long period of time. You will need to learn to shield yourself by studying Occlumency." When Harry would have spoken, Professor Dumbledore cut him off. "Don't worry about it for now, Harry. I may be an old man, but I've a few tricks up my sleeve yet. For now, you're safe. We'll worry about Occlumency once school starts."

Harry couldn't suppress the shudder that ran through him at the thought of studying Occlumency with Snape again, but he didn't have the strength to argue the point just now. All he wanted to do was go back to bed. When Dumbledore said nothing further, Harry stood and began walking towards the stairs.

"Harry?"

Harry turned to look at the professor, but remained silent. Professor Dumbledore seemed to be struggling with whether to say something further to Harry, but finally resorted to quietly bidding him good night.

~~~~~~~~~~

"That's right, Harry. You're safe here. No harm can come to you. Whenever you are afraid, picture this room in your mind. The sofas, comfortable cushions, the hidden passageway. Visualize it as a safe haven from all that troubles you. Have you pictured it?"

Harry nodded.

"Good. Now, Harry, picture yourself building the stone walls that surround you. One by one, feel them settle firmly into place. Nothing can penetrate them once you've set them where they need to be. Stone upon stone, keep stacking them until the wall extends over your head. You can levitate them as high as you need them to be."

Harry nodded again. He no longer saw Dumbledore, or the flame in front of him, only the stone wall. As he built it, his haven grew quieter and quieter until he realized he was standing inside a cozy chamber that was completely silent. He turned in a circle; the wall surrounded him entirely. He tested it, gingerly at first with only a tap, then he shoved it hard with the full force of his body. The wall stood firm. He smiled, pleased with himself, enjoying for the first time in his life a sublime peace.

Now, how am I supposed to get out?

As soon as he voiced the thought, the walls around him dissolved as if they had never been there, and he could see Dumbledore sitting before him, as well as the candle on the table, which had burned down considerably since the last time he remembered focusing on it.

"Excellent work, Evan. You've done extremely well today, far better than I expected so early in our sessions. Could you see your wall?"

"Yes. It was amazing. It was so quiet inside."

"The wall can shield you not only from outside intrusions, but also from the noise inside your own mind. I'm very pleased with your progress. It won't be long before you'll be able to build your wall instantaneously. Then the real work begins."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, puzzled.

"You must learn to build a doorway through the wall, so that you don't have to take it down during the normal course of the day. A doorway will allow you to interact with the world around you, while still shielding your mind from unwanted intruders. And eventually, you will learn Legilimency as well."

"Legilimency? Why?" Harry asked. He couldn't fathom why Dumbledore would want him to study the spell that Snape had used to cause him such pain last year.

"For several reasons. For one, because learning how to break through the walls of others is a good technique for learning to strengthen your own wall. Secondly, it will give you much more control over your link to Voldemort. You will learn to recognize the signs of a Legilimens' attack on yourself, no matter how surreptitious."

"But how do you know I'll even be able to do that?" Harry asked.

"It's one of your gifts, Evan," the professor explained.

Harry slumped at this news. Great, he thought. Just what I needed. Another piece of Voldemort to treasure. He sighed, once again feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders.

The corners of Dumbledore's mouth turned up, and his eyes began to twinkle. "My dear boy, I'm afraid you don't understand. This isn't a gift you received from Voldemort; it is one you were born with."

Harry sat up straighter. "What do you mean? How do you know that?"

"Quite simply, because your mother was one of the most skilled Legilimens I've ever met."

~~~~~~~~~~