Distorted Reflections

CHAPTER SEVEN

Harry awoke the following morning to find that the tortured agony that had possessed him just last night had disappeared. He felt surprisingly alert, more so than he had been in a long time, but... there was something odd. He no longer mourned the ruby charm, though he could feel its absence, which was strange enough as it was - but something else felt queer. He sat up and straightened his glasses, noticing a peculiarly hollow sensation inside of him, somewhere around his stomach. Figuring it was probably just hunger - for he hadn't eaten in nearly two days - Harry shrugged it away, slipped out of bed, and crossed the room, opening Ron's door cautiously, in case there was someone else in there. There was no one inside.

Assuming that Ron had gone to Yvette's place for the night, Harry closed the door quietly. He slipped out of his robes (wrinkled from overnight wear) and changed into a pair of dark pants and a soft green shirt. He shaved quickly, then walked calmly down the stairs to the lobby, immediately catching sight of Neville and Clarice, who were talking in a corner. Yawning, he pushed his way to their table, pulling up a chair and sitting down in between them.

"Well, look who's up," said Clarice brightly. "You slept past noon."

"Oh," said Harry, looking at the clock on the wall above the bar. "I guess I did."

Neville began to grin - but stopped abruptly. "Harry, where's that ruby charm?" he asked.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh, you missed quite a show last night. Hermione showed up at two in the morning and took it back."

"Wait, did you say she took it back?" Neville asked in disbelief.

"What ruby charm?" said Clarice.

Harry briefly explained the history of the bracelet to Clarice, then told them both about the events of the previous night. When he had finished, Neville was shaking his head.

"That girl has gone mad," he said. "She's not at all the way I remember her from Hogwarts."

"You should have seen the way she acted at the Candle Ball," Harry responded. "She's changed. She wouldn't explain anything. She's become spontaneous and out of control, not at all logical the way I remember her. It's unnatural."

"I agree," said Neville. "By the way, have either of you seen Ron and Yvette?"

"Ron didn't come back last night," said Harry. "I thought he'd gone to Yvette's place. Clarice, were they with you last night? Clarice?"

But Clarice had suddenly paled, and had covered her mouth with her hand. She was staring towards the other corner of the room, her eyes enormous in her face. "What - what's Caleb doing?" she stammered, inhaling sharply. Harry and Neville followed her gaze to a spot partly curtained from the bar. Though he was partially obscured by the navy drapery, Caleb's face was definitely visible.

"He's... he's..." Harry squinted at the curtains, suddenly observing a pair of heels behind the curtain, and a hand tracing circles on Caleb's face. "Ugh, he's kissing someone," he said, absolutely appalled.

"You're kidding," said Neville.

"No, really, look at them! That's disgusting, why anyone would want to kiss Caleb is beyond me -" Harry stopped short, his jaw dropping. He had just caught sight of a very familiar head of curly hair, part of which was tied back with a caramel ribbon. "Wait a minute... that's - that's Hermione!"

With a loud cry, Harry dashed through the crowds, shoving people out of the way, spurred on by fury and the heat of betrayal. He reached the little curtained niche and flung the navy material back, revealing none other than Hermione and Caleb, kissing each other like it would be outlawed the next day. They broke apart as Harry opened the curtains, and Hermione's face dropped into a mask of terror.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me, Hermione," said Harry, his voice low and deadly still. "I had my doubts about how serious you were at the fountain yesterday, but honestly, I think you can do better than Caleb."

"Oh, Harry, it isn't what it looks like -" Hermione tried to speak, but Harry cut her off.

"I think it's exactly what it looks like. Who knew though, that you'd actually be interested in a slimy git like Caleb. Of all people, Hermione!"

Caleb's eyes burned almost as brightly as Harry's, and he raised his fist threateningly, but Harry's speed and reflexes surpassed Caleb's by far. Harry smiled and promptly punched Caleb squarely in the eye. With a yelp, Caleb toppled over, and Disapparated.

Hermione began to cry, and reached out to touch Harry, but he jerked out of her grasp. Without warning the empty feeling in his stomach grew considerably, leaving him breathless and winded.

"Don't touch me," he said, every note in his voice scorched with blistering hatred.

Hermione drew back and opened her mouth again - but stopped. She knotted her brows together at someone over Harry's shoulder, then shook her head, wiped her eyes, and looked again. And all at once she jumped up and exclaimed in amazement, "Nora?!"

The entire crowd turned and looked at the someone behind Harry. There stood Clarice, looking very stern. "It's been a while, hasn't it, Hermione?"

Harry, who had been trembling with distress, looked at Hermione, then Clarice, then back at Hermione, and said, "What are you two on about? Clarice, why did she just call you Nora?"

Hermione stared at Harry. "Why did you just call Nora Clarice?"

"Because that's her bloody name!" Harry shouted, stunning everyone into silence. "What the hell is going on here?"

Clarice tapped Harry gently on the shoulder. "I'm afraid this misunderstanding is all my fault," she said faintly. "Harry, my name isn't really Clarice. It's Nora. Nora Everett."

Harry gaped. "You can't be serious."

"Quite, actually."

"Why in hell would you change your goddamn name?" The transition that Harry had just made from skepticism to rage was quite apparent.

Clarice closed her eyes. "Please, Harry, calm down. It's a long story, but it'll make sense once I'm done, I promise," she assured him soothingly.

"It'd damn well better make sense, because I'm about to go off the deep end right now and it's your fault." Harry retorted, not at all placated. He was shivering, despite the mild heat, and his eyes were livid.

Clarice patted his back serenely, and drew the curtain closed around the small group. "All right then. This may come as a shock to you, so be prepared. Hermione and I never worked together. I have never been employed at the Ministry in my life. I am the sister of Grace Everett, whom you know more commonly as Yvette, and Tarranon Everett, whose false name is Caleb McKinley.

"Two or three years back, Hermione dated Tarranon - more commonly known as Tar - and was going to marry him. Yet Tar knew that Hermione's heart belonged to someone else, and he got angry and jealous, finally beating her viciously and causing her to leave him almost immediately.

"Everything about their relationship was hidden from the papers, but some people knew about the situation - people who were not supposed to know - and became a potential danger to the confidence of the secret. We all knew that, should the wizard media uncover this scandal, some serious consequences would certainly be in order, and Hermione did not want that for Tarranon. She urged us to leave town, which we did at first. What she did not know was that, in order to return to London and reestablish connection with the rest of the world, we changed our names. Tar took up a different surname than Grace and I did, just to be on the safe side. But Caleb and Yvette and I are all really siblings. Have I helped the situation?" Clarice - or, rather, Nora - finished, looking anxious.

"Not really," said Harry. "Well, yes, I understand what happened, but I have a few questions."

"Very well," said Nora. "Let's hear them."

"First of all, when did you intend to tell us this?" Harry asked, his voice detached and raw.

Nora looked sheepish. "I didn't," she said. "I had hoped that you would be successful with Hermione at the Candle Ball, and I wouldn't be needed anymore, but I was wrong."

"Which leads us to my second question," said Harry. "If you never worked with Hermione, how did you know that we went to school together, or that I was in love with her?"

Hermione, who had been examining something on the floor, looked up at that last statement, but said nothing.

"Oh, Harry," said Nora. "When I said that Tar became envious, do you think it was over something silly like a past boyfriend? Of course not. Hermione loved you too. She was constantly talking about you, and all of your assets, and how wonderful you were on a broom, et cetera. Both Tar and I figured it out from there. That's why he doesn't like you. You stole Hermione, without even meaning to."

"Yeah, right," said Harry. "I must be pretty bad at robbing people, if the things that get taken always come back to them for a quick snog behind the curtain."

"Oh, shut it, Harry," Hermione snapped, startling everyone. "I've had enough of that wounded soldier attitude of yours. I already told you I loved you, don't you trust me?"

"No," said Harry. "I don't think you deserve to be trusted. What were you trying to do, find the most repulsive thing on the planet and kiss it to improve my trust?"

"Come on, Harry. Tar kissed me, not vice versa."

"Yes, and the fact that you were just hanging there all limp like a rag doll certainly explains the lipstick all over his face, now, doesn't it?" Said Harry, very peeved now.

"Do you honestly think that, after all I told you last night, I would go around doing things with all my old friends?" Hermione retorted.

"Well first tell me which last night you mean," said Harry icily. "The part at the fountain, where you were all over me with kisses and hugs and whatnot, but then flat-out refused my marriage proposal, gave no reasonable explanation for why you did so, and ran away? Or the part where you took the only thing that was keeping me together, the thing you gave me, and ran away again, leaving me in absolute agony? Clarify for me, because I'm having some trouble defining which one was more hurtful."

"Stop being an arrogant bastard, Harry," snarled Hermione. "You said you weren't hurt when I turned you down, and you know it."

"Yeah, sure, and then you swiped the thing that was keeping me from being depressed and dejected, like I've been for the past five bloody years!"

"I needed it more than you did!"

"You did not!" Harry yelled. "You wanted it because you thought your little dramas were more important than my complete and utter heartbreak. You reckoned, 'sure, why not run on down to Harry's and pinch the thing that helps him stay alive? He won't miss it; he'd do anything for me!' Nice try, Hermione, but I think that bracelet is due back on my wrist now."

"Harry, shut up."

"No. I'm going to finish what I've started," Harry said frostily. Something was beginning to sting in his throat, and all the thoughts of last night, the ones about injuring Hermione in order to retrieve the bracelet, came swiftly flooding back. He shuddered, and talked on, his eyes a green inferno.

"You think you can control me, like I'm just some toy that you can play with and throw away when you're done, but you're wrong. You are the most shameless, shallow, and self-absorbed person I've ever met, and I can't believe you don't even have the decency not to flaunt it!"

Hermione's eyes flashed dangerously, and she stepped up to Harry and slapped him hard in the face, the ruby on her wrist jangling as her hand connected with his jaw. "You egotistical prat!" she screeched. "How dare you say those things to me! You haven't got the slightest idea of what's going on, and yet you think that you have the right to go telling tales all over the place! Whatever made you think you could treat me this way -" she halted her speech with a jolt, staring at the dark, rapidly swelling handprint on Harry's cheek, and covered her mouth in horror. "Oh, God, Harry, did I -"

Harry looked murderous. "Yes, you did. Now tell me, Hermione, if you're the one who can't keep her tongue to herself, why am I the one who gets slapped?"

"I didn't mean to, it just - happened!" Hermione burst out, tears welling up in her eyes. "Let me fix it, please, I've got my wand right here and -"

"There is no way in hell I'm letting you come within five feet of you, Hermione Granger. That's it."

"Harry, please!" Hermione tried to wrap her arms around him, but he shoved her away.

"You heard me." Harry's voice was cold and distant now.

"Harry, you're becoming as bad as Tar was!" Hermione shrieked, ridden with grief. That stung.

"I am not as bad as Tar was. I would never hit you, under any circumstances, not like he did. Which is not really so useful to either of us, seeing as how you evidently prefer violent men. Maybe I'm just not your type." Something flickered in the back of Harry's mind as he said this, and once again he remembered his thoughts from the previous night.

"Harry, will you please just listen to me!" Hermione was sobbing now. "I never meant to hurt you, I never meant to lie to you -"

"Are you trying to tell me you said you loved me by accident?" Harry said. "Hermione, if you find yourself in a hole, stop digging, damnit!"

"Um, hello..." said Neville quietly, waving his hand between the two timidly.

"Do you think I intended to get you involved in this mess? I thought it was over with Tar. And then I saw him, and he started talking to me, and all of a sudden we were kissing. I wasn't thinking! It was just a kiss, nothing more!"

"It was not just a kiss," said Harry seriously. "It was obscene. If that was just a kiss, then Voldemort is just a teeny bit irksome."

"Hey, hello, I have a question for you two..." Neville interjected softly.

"It was just a kiss!" Hermione repeated. "I don't love him, I love you!"

"Yeah, and you sure have a great way of showing it," Harry retorted.

"Hey!" Neville exclaimed.

"WHAT?!" Hermione and Harry demanded in unison.

"Sorry to trouble you, but have either of you seen Ron and - and Grace, since last night? Because Nora and I have been talking and neither of us remember either of them coming back to the inn."

"No, I haven't noticed them anywhere; I thought they were staying with you, Clar - I mean, Nora," said Harry.

"I was under the impression that they were with you, but clearly this is not the case," Nora answered, looking slightly worried.

At that exact moment, a loud crash distracted the group, causing them all to look up, surprised. Pulling aside the curtain, Harry looked toward the door, where the noise appeared to have originated from, and gasped.

"Yvette!"

"You mean Grace," said Nora, coming to stand beside him. "Yvette doesn't exist -" she never finished her sentence, for her mouth was hanging so far open that any intelligible speech would have been impossible.

"Grace, what happened to you?!"

Grace stood at the door, her face smudged with tears and grime. Her dress was completely ruined. Folds of thick fabric hung in slashes to the floor, dragging behind like some kind of abysmal train. Grace's hair, once gleaming and yellow, was streaked with dust and sludge. A cut above her eyebrow was gleaming with bright blood, and her entire body was smeared with thick, dripping mud. Her lip was quivering, and she seemed on the verge of collapse.

"I - I was - I was -" Grace choked out, crumpling onto Neville, who made a suffering face, and hauled her into the little curtained room, sliding the drape shut behind her. He lay her carefully down on the floor, where she lay like limp doll, speaking weakly. "I was - wait a second, why - why are you using my - my real name?"

"I told them," Nora explained sincerely. "It was inevitable. Grace, what happened? Who did this to you?"

"I - I was attacked," said Grace, sniffling. "What did you tell them?"

"That we changed our names because of Hermione's and Tar's relationship," said Nora, her eyes glowing with alarm. "Now tell me, who did this to you?"

"Her - Hermione's here?" asked Grace.

"I'm here," said Hermione, leaning over and looking kindly at her.

"Is Harry here too? I doubt you two got on well. Actually, I bet you fought like dogs," said Grace, smiling feebly.

Hermione's empathetic expression vanished.

"Grace, please tell us what happened," Nora implored anxiously. "Why would someone do this to you?"

"I - I don't know," Grace answered. "I remember Apparating into Diagon Alley with Ron, late last night. I wanted to take a walk, so we went down a little alleyway near Gringott's. We were strolling down it, when a man, all in black, appeared from nowhere. I can't recall much about him, since he wore a hood, but he had fingers with claws that were long and black. The last thing I can recollect was screaming for help, and then being seized and pushed to the ground. I woke up just a few minutes ago, with this -" Grace craned her neck forward and lifted her hair. A ghastly egg-sized bump, inflamed and caked with dried blood, rose from the crown of her head. "It hurts," she whispered.

"Oh, God," Harry heard Nora say, and watched Hermione draw her wand and mutter something. The swelling disappeared, and the lump slowly melted away, leaving nothing more than a small scab. Harry would have felt impressed at Hermione's efficiency, but something had dropped out of him when Grace had mentioned the assailant's claws. They were exactly what he remembered from his dream. He shivered, and leaned forward, looking straight at Grace.

"What happened to Ron?" he asked.

"I don't know that either," she answered nervously. "I think - I think the man kidnapped him." Grace's face was contorted and twisted with an unreadable expression. Harry presumed it was concentration, and compelled himself to ignore the twitching feeling that twanged in his side, telling him that something was amiss.

"I think we should go and investigate," he said.

The rest of the group stared at him. "Harry, if that's where Grace was hurt, maybe it isn't such a good idea--" Hermione began uncertainly, but her statement was abruptly sliced off by Harry.

"Hermione, perhaps you should wait to tell me something until I'm in more of a mood to hear you out. Because, as of right now, I think I'd be more likely to listen to you if you told me that Tar is really an exotic dancer and that you're really a man," Harry replied calmly. Hermione looked astonished, and rather unsure of whether to cry or to laugh. Harry resented this look, but knew better than to threaten Hermione further, especially considering the fact that she was clutching her wand.

"I think Harry's right," said Grace, suddenly looking animated and vigorous. "We should explore the scene of the crime, and see if we can find anything to do with Ron. I'll go."

"Grace, you should stay here, if you're injured, and you must be in a state of shock over Ron" said Nora, looking severe.

"I am not staying here," Grace replied tersely. She thrust out her lower lip, giving her a pouty - and not at all attractive - glare. "I want to help my darling Ronniekins. Besides, how will you know where the kidnapping took place, without me?"

Nora wore a grim expression, but she nodded. "I'll stay here, then, and search the rooms for anything," she said.

"I'll remain with Nora," said Neville hastily. "I need to keep the inn running, don't I?" he asked, sounding innocent, but avoiding the others' eyes.

"Fine, that's settled. Neville and I will stay here, and Grace, Harry, and Hermione will go look for clues," said Nora. "Off you go, then."

"Ooh, this is such fun!" Grace squealed. "I feel like such a detective!"

Hermione shot Grace a glance that Harry couldn't help agreeing with. If Grace was truly disturbed by Ron's disappearance, she certainly had an odd way of showing it. Harry got the distinct feeling that she was hiding something from the rest of them, yet he said nothing, and reluctantly followed a ragged yet vivacious Grace out the door.

"Well," said Neville, looking after them. "Harry seems to be feeling a bit off today, doesn't he?"

"It's the bracelet," said Nora. "Remember what Hermione said to him last night? It has the power to enliven the wearer. But I think that, although it may have been cheering Harry up, I don't think it was eliminating all those other emotions inside of him. Instead, I think it was just storing them somewhere, and when he took the charm off, all those sensations came rushing back, but all at once, so that he didn't have the option of feeling angry, or miserable, or lonely at different times. It all happened simultaneously, and that's why he's been acting like that."

"Point taken," said Neville with a nod. "Now, what do you say we get to work on Ron's room? There's got to be something of use up there."

"I've got high hopes," said Nora, with a subtle grin. She did not display any of the anxiety that was slowly beginning to prevail over her hard-driving optimism. "Let's go."

* * *

Harry was feeling more than a little annoyed at his companions as he trudged down mysterious sidestreets in search of the alleyway Grace and Ron had walked down the night before. Grace was behaving quite curiously, even for her - sometimes she was so vibrant and excited that Harry nearly believed that she was hiding something, and other times she was so excessively melodramatic that he was sure that she was hiding something. Either way he wanted to scream at her.

Hermione, of course, was not being much of a comfort either. She, like him, seemed to be under the impression that Grace was withholding valuable details from them, and was performing very poorly in her attempts to conceal it. Yet Hermione was, in contrast, a very good actress, and could obscure her opinions more easily than Harry. This aggravated Harry exceptionally, both because she said nothing of the situation, and because he was unable to restrain his thoughts the way she could. It didn't help that he was infuriated with her for kissing Tar, and he made sure to be distinctly aloof towards her the entire time.

"Oh, look, there it is!" Grace called out eagerly, pointing with one polished fingernail. "Gabriel Avenue, I'm positive this is the one we went down!" She dashed down it, her tattered dress bursting out in little flutters as she ran. "Come on, you two!"

Harry gazed hesitantly down the street. It was dim and terribly eerie-looking. Sinister shadows darted furtively behind shaded windows, and a tall streetlamp emitted a ghost of a light on the corner. All in all, it didn't appear to be the sort of place one would promenade down during a romantic outing. Harry couldn't even recall ever seeing it in Diagon Alley, which was strange, because he thought he had known every route by heart. Then again, he thought, this is the wizarding world. Weird things randomly occur all the time. Yet something was stirring inside of him, something was warning him to stay away. He disregarded it.

"I'm coming," he yelled out into the gloom, and walked toward Grace, who beamed and tossed her hair at him. Again Harry felt a little twitch, like an electric shock, bolt through him as he observed her. There was definitely a strange factor about Grace's positive attitude. It was almost as if she had wanted Ron to be abducted - but no, that wasn't possible.

"Hurry up, Hermione," Grace screeched. "Ronniekins is near, I can feel it!"

Hermione walked slowly toward them, her brown eyes enormous and vigilant. "I don't like this place," she said, shivering.

"Of course you don't. You'd probably prefer a nice, cozy room with a roaring fireplace, a massive sofa, and our favorite exotic dancer Tarranon by your side," said Harry, clearly enunciating 'Tarranon' with a highly manifest air of mockery.

"Anywhere would be better than this," said Hermione, bluntly overlooking the last portion of Harry's remark.

Harry scowled, displeased that his statement about Tar had had no effect on Hermione whatsoever, but refrained from commenting. All this arguing with her, while refreshing at first, was becoming exhausting.

"Ooh, Harry, Hermione, look!" Grace sang out from the little niche where she was standing. She was holding a piece of cloth in one hand and waving it about.

"Did you find something?" Harry asked Grace gruffly, striding closer to inspect it. Hermione followed suit.

Grace looked indignant. "Of course I found something," she said. "Look at this." She opened her fingers to reveal a bit of black fabric, lined with pale green velvet.

"That's the material from Ron's robes!" Harry declared, taking it from Grace and holding it close to his eyes. It was unquestionably part of the redhead's attire the prior evening. Harry ran his thumbs over it gently, then drew his breath in sharply. He lifted his hand away and stared at it with disbelief. Blood, emanating from a small cut on his palm, trickled slowly over his wrist and down his arm.

Shaking his head, Harry looked back at the cloth, and was shaken to find miniscule red gems embedded in the fabric. Digging his fingernail into the weaving, he was able to pry one out. He held it up to the light of the streetlamp, and his jaw dropped considerably. It was a bit of ruby.

* * *

Nora and Neville sat together at a table in the lobby of the Tin Parrot, both of them very depressed. Neville had previously sent everyone back to their rooms, to allow them more room to move about, but there was no reason to have done so. The two of them had thoroughly searched both Ron's and Grace's bedrooms, without any luck, and is was obvious that there was nothing to be found involving Ron's capture.

At last Nora stood up from her spindly little chair, trying to think sanguinely. "Perhaps we should check the rooms again," she said. "Maybe we've missed something -"

"We've inspected them twice already," said Neville, groaning. "We aren't going to find anything this time, either."

"Well, maybe there's someone up there who noticed some suspicious behavior last night, who might be able to report something."

Neville snorted. "Nora, this is a bar. Everyone's suspicious in a bar."

"Well what would you suggest we do, Mr. We're-Not-Going-To-Find-Anything-So-Let's-Just-Sit-Around-On-Our-Arses!" Nora was stretched to the breaking point now. She hadn't known Ron that well - he was Grace's boyfriend, not hers - but she was moral enough to want to help him, and smart enough to know that, by laying about, they would never get anywhere.

"I don't know," said Neville, honestly mystified.

"Neither do I," said Nora, collapsing back into her chair and sighing dejectedly. "Oh, for God's sake, if we're going to do anything, someone give us a sign!"

At that exact second, a high-pitched meow echoed from the top of the stairs. Nora froze. Little by little, she turned her head towards the noise. A silver tabby stood proudly on the landing, glaring disdainfully at the pair.

"Neville," said Nora slowly, "Is that your cat?"

"No," Neville responded. "I don't keep cats, they make me sneeze."

"Do you allow people to keep cats while staying here?"

"There's a no-pets policy. I don't like animals much."

The tabby arched its back and trotted down the stairs, haughtily lifting its nose into the air as it sashayed past them. It slipped out the door and disappeared around a corner.

"Nora, I do believe your sign just walked out," said Neville, sounding slightly amused. Nora was a step ahead of him. She was already at the door, wrapping her fleece-lined robes more tightly around her.

"Neville, I'll be right back," she said, shaking her hair back over her shoulders. "If I haven't returned in half an hour, notify the Ministry."

"Wait, but how will I know how to find you?" Neville asked, worry taut in his voice, but it was too late. With a whirl of dark red silk and dyed wool, Nora had gone.

The cat, once it had seen Nora pursuing it, had begun to sprint wildly, all four paws flying off the ground. Nora had always known that cats were light on their feet, but she had never seen such an incredibly swift animal. The tabby was just a streak of silver, tearing down streets and nearly causing several frightful accidents among witches and wizards who were not accustomed to having a bullet in the form of a very fast cat hurtle at them from out of nowhere.

Finally the tabby careened around a bend and vanished into the murkiness of a very dark avenue that Nora did not recognize. Stepping tentatively into the gloom, she reached out a hand and called, "Hello? Is anyone there?"

"Nora?" was the reply. "Nora, it's Hermione, and Grace, and Harry. We're over here."

Nora saw a hand wave at her, and marched over to it. "Hello, everyone. Found anything yet?"

"Yes, a bit of Ron's robes from last night, but nothing else. How did you get here?" came Harry's voice.

Nora could see the twin green bonfires that were his eyes, and could make out the outline of his face - indistinct, but still noticeable. "You'll never believe this," she said. "I followed a cat."

"What?" That was Hermione again. "Did you say a cat?"

"Hermione doesn't understand why you'd be inclined to chase a literal beast, when it's so obvious that human beasts are preferable." Harry's voice radiated with spite, and all of a sudden Nora felt very irritated with him.

"Shut up, Harry, and get over it," she said. "Hermione regrets it, why don't you just leave it alone and move on?"

Harry was silent for a second. Then his eyes widened in horror, and he raised his finger to point at something over Nora's shoulder. "Nora, watch out!"

Nora ducked just in time to see a bright silver thing, like a star, flash over her head and soar straight through the wall opposite them. The cat!

"Look, that's the cat I ran after!" she exclaimed. "Let's go!"

But both Harry and Hermione stood firmly planted to the ground. Nora, who was halfway to the wall already, turned and looked at them. "Hurry up, or we'll lose it!"

"Um, Nora, in case you didn't notice, that thing went right through the wall," said Harry.

"So?"

"It would have to be a ghost in order to do that, and I'm not really that excited about following a dead animal into a wall without any idea of where it leads. Not to mention the fact that we wouldn't be able to go through the wall anyway," Harry argued.

"The cat wouldn't have to be a ghost," said Hermione unexpectedly.

Harry and Nora stared. "What?"

"Well, it could be a fake wall. They're often created in banks and things, mostly when there's something really important that needs hiding. If you've got a false wall there, people think that there's actually a barrier and don't bother trying to break in. There are loads in Gringotts," cited Hermione matter-of-factly.

"Well, how do you know if it's a trick wall?" asked Nora.

"Easily. Like this," said Hermione, walking quickly up to the wall and thrusting her arm forward. Her fingertips went right through the wall. "That's why they aren't such a convenient spell," she said, grinning. "Good for looks and all that, but really rather ineffective if you're trying to keep someone out."

"Thank you, Hermione," said Harry sardonically. "Now, are we to follow that thing or not?"

"The cat, that's right! Let's go!" said Nora, darting forward, grabbing each of their arms and tugging. Harry came willingly, but Hermione stayed rooted to the spot.

"I just realized something," she said, and the tremor in her voice was unmistakable. "Where's Grace?"

The horror Hermione's tone displayed was instantly contagious. Nora gasped and Harry's eyes could have burned holes in steel. Their worst fears were instantly acknowledged, as a rough, male voice spoke from behind the three. "You should be careful who you trust."

A burst of red light issued from a wand that belonged to none of them, and three thuds could be heard in unison as Nora, Harry, and Hermione all hit the ground at the same time.