Harry Potter And The Fall Of Childhood

Chapter 12

Perhaps What We Do Not Know

"To the question of your life you are the answer, and to the problems of your life you are the solution." - Joe Cordare

***

Harry shot up, eyes wide and heart pounding. It was sheer willpower that restrained his terrified scream.

"'bout time," Ron said, leaning back. "I've been thumping you for nearly ten minutes. Did you go somewhere last night?"

"What?" Harry looked blankly at him for a moment, brain unable to process much more than the fact that he was awake and that he was rather grumpy about it.

"Come on!" Ron looked exasperated. "You're usually up half an hour before me. We'll miss breakfast if you don't hurry up."

"Yay, breakfast," Harry muttered rebelliously, but he slid out of bed anyway. The world tilted and swirled strangely around him and he had to grip Ron's arm for support.

"Whoa, alright?" The annoyance melted away into concern as his friend steadied him, then kept a careful eye on him as he scrabbled for clean robes.

"Just really tired," Harry yawned. "I went--" He paused, robe half on as the previous nights events slammed into him like the Hogwarts Express at full steam ahead. "Oh, hell," He said succinctly, yanking down the robe with numbed hands.

"What's wrong?" Ron was at his side immediately, one hand on Harry's back while the other rose to prod at his scar. "Do you need--"

"I need a lobotomy," Harry snapped, ducking away from his hands. He softened, though, as he saw Ron's hurt look. "Sorry, I'm grumpy. I..." He paused, glancing about him for the first time at the other occupants of the room, all of whom were staring anxiously at him. "Oh for Merlin's sake, I'm not going to collapse."

"That's why you're skeletal," Dean muttered.

Harry self-consciously smoothed a hand down over his robes, feeling for himself the protrusions of his ribs. He sighed softly, mind going back to that book in Hogsmeade. He'd only checked as a sort of precaution, but maybe it was time, well past time, to do something about the whole mess.

At least everyone else went back to their morning preparations, and indeed Seamus was tugging Dean out the door as Harry watched. All except Ron, that was.

"What did you do last night?" he muttered, watching Harry like a hawk.

"Er, private conversation," Harry muttered back. "And Hermione. I need her brain, anyway."

"Oh dear," Ron sighed, sounding remarkably like his mother. "That sounds ominous."

"It is," Harry said, no levity in his voice. Ron's eyes widened a little, but Harry gave him no opportunity to pursue it further as he slipped into the bathroom to wash up.

He scowled darkly at the mirror as it let out a little "meep" at his appearance.

"Shut up," He muttered. "I know how I look."

"Apparently not," the mirror snarked. "You could hide a Hippogriff in the bags under your eyes."

"Didn't I say shut up?"

"You used to be such a nice, polite boy." The mirror sighed nostalgically. "They all get so rude as they grow up."

Harry stomped out of the bathroom, muttering about uppity inanimate objects.

"My, you're in rare form," Hermione observed as he and Ron made it downstairs a few moments later. "And could you have possibly taken any longer?"

"We'll try next time," Harry snapped, heading off for the portrait without waiting for them. Behind him he could hear Hermione's surprised huff and Ron's murmured reply. He'd probably be ambushed at the earliest opportunity. It was very uncharacteristic for him to be grumpy. He was usually the definition of amiability, unless there was a Malfoy or a Dark Lord in the vicinity. But this morning he had to admit that going the Snape route was very satisfying.

As he headed for the Great Hall, Harry simultaneously tried not to remember, and obsessively replayed, the conversation he'd overheard the night before. He'd been so exhausted, probably from the Patronus, that he'd been unable to do little more than hear and remember. Now, as his thoughts cleared and his sense returned, he was beginning to panic. The implications of what he'd heard were vast, and he had a sinking suspicion that Hermione, with her quick thinking and impeccable logic, would be able to come up with even more problems and issues. He was developing a headache and it wasn't even nine o'clock yet.

As he slid into a seat, Harry glanced up and down the Gryffindor table. Almost everyone was eating and chatting merrily, disgustingly energetic. Fred and George were looking particularly gleeful, practically bouncing in their seats as if waiting for something. Harry felt deep sympathy for their intended victim.

As he turned back to his plate, his eyes caught and held a pair of brown ones. Ginny looked as if she were mortified to be caught staring, but as if she couldn't look away. Harry felt a sudden surge of something indefinably powerful and sad as she pulled her glance away with seeming reluctance, her shoulders taut. He made a resolution to speak to her as soon as he could get her alone, to talk to her both about the way she'd found him and Hermione, and also perhaps this odd feeling he was getting that maybe there was something wrong, after all.

"Fred and George are looking dangerous," Ron observed as he plopped down next to Harry. "We better watch out."

"Oh, I don't know," Harry replied before he could stop himself. "Something tells me they won't be bothering me at least."

Ron gave him a strange look, but was distracted as the post arrived.

"Hey!" he cried. "Isn't that Erroll?"

"Watch it!" Hermione leapt to her feet, only partially escaping the minor tidal wave as Erroll plummeted straight down and landed with a terrific splash in the pumpkin juice. "Great start to the day," she muttered, glaring down at her damp robes.

"Oi, get him out before he drowns," one of the twins called.

"Hopefully the letter is waterproofed," the other added.

"Are you kidding? It's from Mum, of course it's waterproof and fireproof and tamper proof. She'd spell it to check to see if we washed behind our ears if she could."

Erroll lay limply on the table after Ron fished him out, feebly waggling his leg. Ron untied the letter, luckily intact, and then began drying off the ancient bird.

"Give it here." The twins had come up behind them and one snatched the letter. "Let's have a look." He trailed off, scanning the letter rapidly. "Oi, we're supposed to come home for Christmas this year," he exclaimed, looking scandalized

"We can't! We wouldn't be able to--"

"Shut up," the other twin muttered, casting furtive looks around.

"Does she give a reason?" Ron asked, looking a little concerned.

"She just says she and Dad want us all home this holiday. Say, Bill is coming out, and Charlie is trying, too. Maybe it won't be such a bad idea after all."

Ron was still frowning, his eyes flicking from the letter to Harry as his brow creased in worry.

"Well," he began carefully, "Mum might just have to settle for three out of four, because I really don't think--"

"Oh, Mum is way ahead of you." George waved the pumpkin scented letter in Ron's face. "Harry, you're cordially invited to join us, as well."

"I what?"

"Christmas, Burrow," Fred said slowly and carefully. "Mum and Dad invited you."

"It's great fun," Ron added, looking highly relieved. Harry wasn't sure whether to be touched by Ron's unwillingness to leave him, or supremely irritated.

"Ginny!" George called up the table. "We're going home for Christmas!"

Ginny headed their way rapidly, a smile blooming on her face. To Harry's eye she looked immensely relieved. "Really?" she asked. "Let me see." She grabbed the letter and scanned it. The twins and Ron were trading Christmas memories and slavering over their Mother's traditional holiday dinners, so Harry was the only one to see the way Ginny paled as she read.

"Something wrong?" he asked softly.

She jumped, looking up almost guiltily. "No," she said quickly, then applied an obviously fake smile. "So, you'll be staying with us this Christmas?"

"Er, actually not," Harry said cautiously.

"What?" Three sets of Weasley ears had caught that and Harry found himself the center of the fixed attention of the formidable redheads.

"Why ever not?" Ron demanded.

"I can't," Harry said, his eyes flicking from Ron to the other three. "It's not, er, safe. I wasn't allowed over the summer, and nothing has changed since then."

"But--" Ron began.

"He's right," Ginny cut in quickly, holding up a hand to forestall her brother. "It wouldn't be safe for Harry to leave Hogwarts grounds."

"Then I'm not going either," Ron proclaimed, jutting out his chin.

"No, you really should." Harry laid a hand on his friend's arm, trying to communicate with a look. Ron had apparently forgotten about Moody's offer of extra tuition, and Harry wasn't about to remind him in front of his siblings. "You haven't gone home all four years, it's time you enjoyed Christmas with your family."

"But what about you?" Ron asked.

"I'll be fine." Harry tried his own smile, suspecting it wasn't any more sincere than Ginny's had been. If he were honest with himself, Harry would have to admit that the thought of spending Christmas without Ron was not something he even wanted to consider. For Harry, Christmas had come to symbolize everything that the wizarding world had to offer him, in magic and in friends and love. The idea of waking up alone in the boys' dorms on Christmas morning, of not having anyone there to share the surprises and treasures with was sort of sad.

But Harry suspected that one of the main reasons the Weasleys had always stayed over Christmas and Easter holidays was to keep him company. He blessed them for their kindness, but now he thought maybe it was time for the family to enjoy the holidays together. Especially now, he realized, his thoughts darkening.

"Are you sure?" Ron asked, looking torn.

"Positive." Harry's smile was a little less brittle now. "Go home and have a wonderful time. I'm sure you've missed having Christmas at home." He knew he was right as Ron's eyes lit up.

"Well, that's settled then," Ginny said briskly. Harry looked at her oddly. There was something off about the tension in her stance, the way her hands flexed almost spasmodically on the table edge. He remembered that this wasn't the first time he'd felt something amiss with her and redoubled his intent to get her alone and speak to her. "I'll write Mum and extend your apologies, Harry," she continued, looking rather pleased. That too was odd, for at the risk of becoming an egotist, Harry would have thought she would have been delighted to share his company at Christmas.

"You'll have to give Erroll time to rest," Fred said, scooping up the limp owl.

Ginny's reply was cut off as a clear ringing tone sounded through the hall. A hush fell over the students and they all turned towards the head table where Dumbledore stood, beaming indiscriminately around at everybody.

"Good morning, students," He called cheerily. "I have an announcement to make, one I hope will please you all immensely." He paused, waiting for the excited whispers to die down before continuing. "The staff and I always try our best to supply you not just with knowledge, but also with happy memories here at Hogwarts. To that end, we've decided to make a tradition of the Yule Ball which was held last year. I know how much you all enjoyed--" Dumbledore was cut off as half the hall erupted in cheers and the other half in groans. Harry wasn't exactly sure where he fell in that division, for balls weren't exactly his favorite activity. There was all that dancing ... in public ... and the whole disaster of finding a date.

His eyes flicked automatically towards the Ravenclaw table as his mind came to the obvious conclusion. He just hoped, after the odd way she'd reacted the day before, that Padma would be amenable. He honestly couldn't think why she had acted so oddly, but he added her to his ever-growing list of people to talk to.

"I knew that would please some of you," Dumbledore said, his voice cutting through the buzz of chatter and Harry's thoughts alike. "And I hope it will please you even further to know that this year the ball will be held right after the last day of exams, instead of over the holiday itself. We would like everybody to have the opportunity to attend, whether they wish to go home over the holidays or not." He paused, as if trying to remember something. "Oh yes, and when I said everybody, I meant fourth years and above." He smiled indulgently at the mass protest from the younger students. "You'll have plenty of opportunity to attend balls in your later years here, have no fear. Oh, and we'll be having a surprise performer at this year's ball, one which I think will be more than a treat for you. So," he concluded, "Why don't we all get down to the business of finding a date, hmm?"

"Who are you going with?" Fred bellowed up to the head table.

"Well now, that's an excellent question," Dumbledore replied amicably, restraining McGonagall's outrage. "Let's see," And he made a big production of scanning the staff table, amidst increasingly wild suggestions from nearby students. By the time they had gotten to Fang, at least a few of the staff were smiling. "Well now," cried Dumbledore, "I think I have the perfect solution. Severus, would you do me the honor?"

Ron sprayed tea all over himself and his neighbors.

Hermione, who had held her silence throughout the entirety of breakfast so far, looked as if she was about to pass out.

The twins turned positively green.

Casting his eyes back up to the front of the hall, Harry had to work hard to control his howls. Snape looked like he wanted to bite Dumbledore's head off. Literally, from the way he was grinding his teeth.

"I'm afraid, Headmaster," he ground out, "That I will have to decline your ... kind ... offer." And with that he rose and swept out. Harry could have sworn he heard an audible growling as he billowed by.

Dumbledore just smiled tolerantly after him, looking completely unperturbed and in fact rather amused.

"Dumbledore's the only living creature who could ever get away with that," Hermione gasped, giving in to her giggles as most of the rest of the hall had.

"How marvelous would it be to be Snape's boss?" Ron asked.

"It's not like that," Harry said slowly, his own amusement drowned out by his roiling emotions. "They're friends, I think."

"Shh," Hermione said, laying a hand on his arm. "I don't think that was the impression Dumbledore was going for."

"Probably not." Harry sat back, eyes still on the Headmaster. It was mind-boggling, the idea that a simple joke, something which could easily be interpreted by the unaware as just a game, would be an important sign of animosity to the watchful.

"He's really manipulative," Harry muttered.

"Dumbledore?" Ron was startled. "I doubt he knows what the word means."

Harry smiled humorlessly. "I need to talk to you guys," he said quietly. "It's important."

"Now?" Hermione reached for her schedule. "We only have ten minutes before Potions."

"Let's skip it." Harry just glared at Hermione's aghast look. "This is really important."

"But Snape--"

"Will be in a horrid mood because of Dumbledore anyway. All the more reason to skip it." Harry cut in. "Look I ... something happened last night and I need your help." He struggled with his words, feeling the sort of haze he'd been walking around in all morning beginning to shatter under the force of Dumbledore's benign smile.

"But if all three of us are missing it will be obvious we're doing something," Hermione protested. "We could get in serious trouble."

"The twins skip class all the time," Ron pointed out. "We never have before except if one of us is in the hospital. One time won't hurt." He looked incredibly eager to escape Potions.

"Where then?" Hermione asked, looking resigned.

"Moaning Myrtle's bathroom," Harry decided. "But let's go one at a time. I'll go first." He rose and hurried out of the hall without another word, just wanting to be alone for a bit.

He bypassed the main staircase in favor of a smaller, less trafficked one. The bathroom was only on the second floor, but it was halfway across the castle, so it took him a few minutes to get there. Looking cautiously up and down the hall, Harry quickly slipped through the door.

"So you've finally come to visit me?" A sepulchral voice issued from a stall to his right, followed a moment later by Myrtle's insubstantial form.

"Oh hi, Myrtle." Harry hesitated, having forgotten that she was likely to be around. "Er, sort of. My friends and I, we sort of need somewhere private to talk, and we figured since no one ever comes down here--"

"That's right, no one." Myrtle began blubbering. "I'm all alone, all the time. No one comes to visit Myrtle."

"Myrtle," Ron hissed as he entered. "Be quiet. You'll bring a prefect down on us." He glanced apologetically at Harry. "A not cool one, I mean."

"Would serve you right," she sniffed.

"Tell you what," Harry said, losing patience. "If you leave us alone to talk, I'll come back and visit you some other time."

"Promise?" She asked, pathetically hopeful.

"Promise," Harry agreed.

"How'd you manage that?" Hermione asked, coming in just in time to see Myrtle disappearing down the nearest toilet.

"Promised her his charming company," Ron quipped.

"So, spill," Hermione said, hands on her hips. "This better be really good to make us miss class."

"Not good, exactly," Harry said, taking a few steps back to lean against the wall. "And I'm sorry to make you miss class, but this is really important."

"Well if you hadn't said anything, Ron and I would have dragged you off somewhere anyway," she admitted, her hands falling to her sides. "Does this have anything to do with how you've been acting today?"

"Yeah." Harry controlled the urge to repeatedly bang his head back against the stone wall until it stopped swimming. "Last night, I heard some things." He paused a moment, watching as his friends each took up a position leaning up against a wall or stall. "I went to see Dumbledore, to talk to him about Dementors." He frowned, a thought occurring to him. "You have your Daily Prophet, Hermione?"

"It came just before I left." She fished it out of her robes and extended it. "I didn't get a chance to look at it. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Azkaban," Harry muttered, opening the paper with trepidation. He stared for a long moment at the headline, not quite grasping the significance. "Or not," he muttered. Flipping the page over, he saw that there was a story about the Dementors at Hogwarts, though it was tucked away on page 3 and consisted of only two paragraphs.

"What?" Ron reached for the paper and Harry gave it up willingly. "What does the French bid to have the World Cup in Paris in three years have to do with anything?" he asked. "Aside from the fact that a Portkey there would cost a bundle."

"It doesn't. There's nothing in there about Azkaban. Look on page 3--there's a story about the attack yesterday--but it doesn't say anything about where the Dementors came from."

"You think they came from Azkaban?" Hermione asked. "That would make sense, I guess. Dumbledore did tell Fudge to remove them from Azkaban, he said they would turn on us."

"But you'd think The Prophet would report something as big as that," Ron objected, scanning the short passage about the attack himself. "And this article is tiny. All it says is that Dementors were spotted outside Hogsmeade and they were driven off by the Patronus spell."

"Probably the ministry hushing it up," Harry muttered darkly. "Sounds like something Fudge would do."

"But he couldn't keep Azkaban being abandoned quiet, could he? I mean, that's huge. All those prisoners, there are hundreds of them, they would have been freed. There's no way that could have been hushed up." Hermione began pacing, her hands clasped in the small of her back.

"Then where did the Dementors come from?" Harry asked. "I mean, I've only heard or seen them connected to Azkaban. Do they all originate there? Do they live ... or whatever it is they do ... anywhere else?"

"I--" Hermione stopped dead, looking like she had just been slapped in the face. "I don't know," she said finally.

"Are you serious?" Ron was exultant. "She doesn't know something!"

"Be quiet," Hermione snapped. "A prefect or ghost will hear you. And no, I don't know." Harry recognized the unstoppable square of her jaw. "But I can find out easily enough."

"Wait." Harry caught her arm as she turned to leave. "That's not the main reason why I called you guys up here."

"What could be more important than Dementors turning against us?" she demanded, looking almost desperate to get to the library. "I'll have to alter my exam preparation schedule," she muttered, reaching for her bag.

"Try the fact that Dumbledore knew the Dementors were coming yesterday," Harry snapped, his patience wearing thin. "Try the fact that he set us up, that he set me up."

"What?" Hermione's bag thudded to the floor and Ron cracked his head on the edge of a stall as he straightened too quickly.

"You heard me." Harry folded his arms across his chest, feeling the thudding of his heart in his wrists. "I heard him last night. He and Professor Lupin were talking. He said it was lucky the Dementors were in this area, that he could use them for his own purposes. He said ... I had thought they were from Azkaban because he said Voldemort had sent them."

"Wait, wait." Hermione lifted a hand to stop him. "Start at the beginning and tell us everything you heard. As exactly as you can remember."

"I'm not making this up," Harry snapped.

"I know. You wouldn't." Hermione slumped against the sink facing him. In the mirror over her shoulder, Harry could see his own haggard face, the lines of tension and fatigue, and the dull quality to his expression.

I look like I'm in shock, he thought randomly. And then, of course I do.

"Just tell us every word you can remember." Hermione scrubbed her hands together, businesslike. "I'm sure you're misinterpreting something. This can't be right."

"I'm not. It was late, but I remember it very well." Harry took a moment to compose his thoughts and then launched into as detailed a description as he could manage, down to the way Professor Lupin had gripped Dumbledore's arm and the fear in his eyes.

When he was done there was an echoing silence in the bathroom. Ron's eyes were wide, his face pale. Slowly, as if in a daze, Hermione slid down to hunch on the floor, hugging her knees. "Oh God," she murmured finally.

"You think it was for you, the whole thing?" Ron asked. Harry noted absently that his friend's hands were white-knuckled where he gripped the edges of the stall door he'd banged.

"Who else?" Harry shrugged. "I'm the only student I know of who can conjure a Patronus. And why have the staff positioned with wands ready but hold them back until it was all over. If they were all right there within sight, they should have Apparated in long before I cast my Patronus."

"He's right," Hermione said, becoming a sudden blur of action as she scrambled for her bag and drew out parchment and quill. "The question is why?"

"I don't know." Harry followed her example and slid to the floor, back cushioned against the wall. "I've been too dazed to think, I guess. I just..." He trailed off, shrugging again.

"Dumbledore," Ron whispered disbelievingly.

"And Lupin and Sirius," Harry agreed.

"Sirius wouldn't hurt you," Ron said firmly.

"I know. But he didn't know about this beforehand." Harry hesitated, the words sticking in his throat. "And I used to think that Dumbledore would never hurt me either."

"He wouldn't," Hermione said sharply, dipping her quill in ink. "He had all those people ready with their Patroni. You heard him assuring Professor Lupin, if anything had gone wrong with you or your spell, they would have Apparated right in."

"Why is the plural of stuff ending in -us -i?" Ron asked to no one in particular. "I've always wondered that."

"They're nouns of the second declension," Hermione muttered absently, scribbling wildly on her parchment. "A little help here would be appreciated," she added after a moment.

"Doing what?" Ron joined her by the sinks, crouching over her parchment. "Oh, um ... don't look at me. I have no idea."

"Harry?"

"What?" Harry answered bleakly.

"Oh for God's sake!" Hermione slammed down her quill and glared first at him then at Ron. "The two of you need to snap out of it. So Dumbledore isn't the pure-as-snow icon you've always thought. So what? I for one know he had a reason for what he did, and I have no doubt he had to do worse during the rise of Grindelwald and the last time with you-Know-Who. You both just need to take a step back and realize that Dumbledore is as human as the rest of us and he does what he can."

"Sorry," Harry said, feeling like he was thinking clearly for the first time since the previous night. "I just felt ... I mean he's always been like ... kinda like God. He always seems to know what's happening and what to do about it and how to be...good. Always good."

"I know." Hermione's look was compassionate now as she beckoned him over. "It's a shock to me, too, that he would do something like that. But right now we just need to focus on finding out why."

Harry scooted over to them, peering with Ron down at the parchment. He grimaced a little at the orderly chart Hermione had drawn, creating a spectrum from "probable" to "highly unlikely" under which were written several theories.

"I doubt that," Ron said after a moment, jabbing his finger at "Dumbledore under Imperius." "If Harry can fight it off, I'm sure Dumbledore can."

"Oh, not necessarily. Fighting off Imperius has just as much to do with mindset and personality as raw magical power."

"Still, it's not a likely. It's a possible."

"Alright." Hermione made the adjustment then looked to Harry for comment.

"I don't get that one," he said finally, pointing at "Training or testing Harry." "If he wanted to train me with the Patronus, he could have just used a Boggart and not risked all the students. And he already knows I can cast it anyway. I proved that in my third year."

"So that leaves us with Dumbledore having been kidnapped and replaced with someone taking Polyjuice," Ron pointed out.

"No." Harry shook his head firmly. "His eyes were twinkling this morning."

"Huh?" Ron was clearly mystified.

"Harry's right." Hermione shifted that scenario over to the "unlikely" column. "Polyjuice just gives the body, not the emotions and facial expressions. And that Dumbledore look ... I doubt anyone, good or bad, could manage that...Dumbledoreness."

"Any more ideas?" Harry asked, gesturing at the mostly empty chart.

"No," his friends chorused after a moment.

"It just doesn't make sense." Hermione looked immensely frustrated, and Harry could sympathize. "By all logic he should have had the Dementors headed off miles before they reached Hogsmeade. I know some of the advanced warning wards extend for nearly a hundred kilometers around the school. He should have had the teachers take care of them; I'm sure they could have."

"So where does that leave us?" Ron asked.

"Confused," Harry said, thudding his head back against the unforgiving stone. "Ow," he added, rubbing the sore spot.

"That's what you get for banging your head against the wall," Hermione admonished.

Any further discussion was cut off by the chime indicating the break between classes.

"Alright," Hermione said, her briskness back in full force. "There's no way we're missing Transfiguration, too. We'll be in enough trouble as it is if Snape tells McGonagall we skipped Potions."

"Of course he will," Harry said, standing and reaching for his stuff.

"But, wait." Ron waved both hands before them, looking lost. "What are we doing? What's the plan?"

"I'll hit the library, see what I can find about Dementors. I'll check Hogwarts: A History too, for information about the castle wards." Hermione shouldered her bag and headed for the door. "Come on, we've got to get across the whole castle in five minutes."

"What about us?" Harry asked, trailing after her.

"You can help me," she said as if it were obvious. Then, seeing their horrified expressions she glared and sighed. "Fine, Ron you can help me in the library. Harry, you write to Sirius."

"And say what? 'Gee, what do you know about Dumbledore setting me up? Care to let me in on the huge secret you're all working so hard to keep quiet?'"

"No. Ask him casually if he heard about the attack, and mention that you'd really like to talk to him."

"I'm still not sure about this Polyjuice business," Ron cut in. "Isn't there a way to see for sure."

Hermione frowned as they thudded up the Charms corridor and skidded around a corner. "Well, there's an antidote, but it's even more complex than the potion itself. And I think it only keeps for twenty-four hours after it's complete, so we'd have to do some serious planning."

"Does that mean we wouldn't be able to use it for a couple months like in second year?" Harry asked.

"Try six months. Each month you have to go through a different cycle of preparations. And I think you have to have something of the person you think is being impersonated. It's really very complicated, which is probably why Polyjuice is so effective."

"I knew there was a reason aside from Snape why I hated potions," Harry muttered as they piled into Transfiguration just ahead of the chime.

"Library before dinner," Hermione muttered to them as McGonagall started outlining her notes on the board.

"I'll be a bit late," Harry mouthed back before turning to face the front and getting out his materials. He had a thing or two to take care of today, and the sooner it was over, one way or another, the better.

***

As it turned out, Harry was actually early that evening. He'd heard from one of her Ravenclaw classmates that Padma was in fact in the library, not out by the lake or in any of the other places he'd been looking.

Harry wound his way through the shelves, trailing his fingers along the spines of the books as he walked. He didn't really understand Hermione's near obsession with this place and all the thousands of books, but he had to admit there was something both soothing and exciting about the Hogwarts library. He ducked around the final turn and spotted her, hunched over a slender volume at their normal table.

Harry paused a moment out of her line of sight and studied her. Her hair was braided, which he had found was her favorite style. She said it was easier and safer, and Harry could certainly understand that as the long waves of it would definitely get in the way sometimes. And he also liked the way a braid bared her face, showing the smooth arch of brow and the precise lines of jaw and neck. From his vantage he could see the fixed concentration of her expression, the way she barely blinked as she read. She wasn't even looking as she took notes, but Harry knew that they would be nearly as neat as Hermione's all the same. He considered for a moment just turning around and slipping away, knowing full well she would never be aware of his brief presence. But then he glanced down and caught the sparkle of his Prefect badge and the Gryffindor Lion pinned beside it. Gryffindors were brave, and it didn't matter if no one was around to witness his retreat, he felt like that lion was watching him.

"Hey," he said softly. Despite his attempt not to startle her, she jumped nearly an inch and clapped a hand to her mouth.

"Goodness, Harry. You nearly gave me a heart attack."

"Sorry." He approached the table and stood uncertainly beside her. "What are you reading that's so interesting?"

"Oh, I'm working on the History project. Just doing a little background research about my subject's life." She pointed at the book and Harry automatically glanced down. He felt very much like Padma must have a moment ago as he saw what the page held. His heart gave a mighty jump and he felt a little light-headed.

"Who is your subject?" he heard himself ask, though he couldn't really feel his lips moving.

"Her name was Cryssen de Lauvere. She was a dark witch in the thirteenth century." Padma shrugged, looking a bit miffed. "I don't know why Binns gave me a dark witch, but there it is."

"And what is that?" Harry asked, gesturing at the book.

"Oh, that's her familiar. It says here that de Lauvere had her from the time she was a teenager. Are you alright?" Padma looked at him oddly, and Harry couldn't exactly blame her. He probably looked like he'd seen a ghost. Which, in a way, he had.

"Was de Lauvere a Parselmouth?" he asked, ignoring her question.

"No. Harry, why don't you sit down, you look really pale. Are you feeling ill again?"

"Are you sure? I mean, did it definitely say that she wasn't a Parselmouth, or have you just not found anything about that?"

"I'm sure. It says in this same book that she wasn't, which is why having a snake like that was so weird. Are you sure you're--"

"Yeah," Harry said, slowly taking the chair beside her. "I'm alright. I just ... that snake ..."

"It's really real, I know." Padma tilted the book and squinted at the image. The drawing was rendered in surprisingly vivid detail and color, Harry noted as he looked closer. The caption proclaimed it the work of one of de Lauvere's supporters, a man who was also well-known for his excellent artwork and his improvements on animation charms. Harry could understand why as the snake shifted and stretched, muscle rippling all down its length. Its head lifted and fathomless eyes seemed to look right up at Harry as its forked tongue flickered out and danced just along the edge of two-dimensionality.

"Nagini," Harry said softly.

"What? Harry? Harry!" He blinked and shook his head as Padma slammed the book shut and then reached to shake him. "Harry, snap out of it, you're scaring me!"

"Sorry," he said, gently stilling her hands. Indeed, as he looked up at her, he realized that her dark eyes were wide and her face was unnaturally pale. "What did I do?" he asked in bewilderment.

"You, you hissed at the book like you were talking to the snake or something."

"I--oh." Harry slumped as he realized what had happened. "That artist was a little too good," he muttered morosely.

"What?" Padma looked a little calmer now that he was speaking English, but she still seemed unsettled.

"I'm a Parselmouth, you know," Harry said, meeting her eyes. "But to speak parseltongue it's necessary, for me at least, to be face to face with a snake. A snake, or something that looks enough like a snake to let me believe it's real."

"Oh, that makes sense, I suppose." Padma chewed her lip a moment, appearing to take comfort in the information. "What did you say, then?"

"I said," Harry hesitated, just realizing exactly what he had said. "I thought I'd seen that snake before, that's all. I was startled."

"Oh, well that's silly. Snakes don't live seven hundred years." Padma glanced back down at the book, then slid it decisively away and stacked her notes.

"But it was exactly like her, down to the pattern of shading on her hood," Harry said, mostly to himself.

"That's probably a mark of the breed," Padma pointed out. "They all look very similar."

"Probably," Harry agreed, though he wasn't really sure if he believed that. He'd been so certain from the very second he'd laid eyes on her that that artist, seven hundred years ago, had been drawing Nagini. But of course, that was impossible. Snakes, even those owned by dark wizards and witches, didn't live seven hundred years.

"So, do you have Christmas plans?" Padma asked, effectively dispelling the haze surrounding Harry.

"Um, not really. Ron and the rest of his family are going home, and that'll be a little strange. But Hermione will still be around, and I'm sure I'll find something to do."

"You're not going home?" she asked quizzically.

"I never do," Harry answered, then hastily continued before she could inquire further. The Dursleys really weren't a topic he wished to discuss with her, with anybody, really. "What about you? Is your family doing anything?"

"My parents are taking Parvati and me to see relatives in South India. It should be exciting; I haven't been there since I was just a baby."

Harry took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. There had been little trace so far of that odd distance she'd displayed yesterday, and the lion's golden eyes were still fixed upon him. "You know, it was really considerate of Dumbledore to schedule the Yule Ball before everybody left. That way everyone who wants to can attend and still go home."

"Uh-huh," she agreed, one eyebrow climbing.

"Well, you know, I was thinking. We've been dating for a few months now, and pretty much the whole school knows that. So I figured maybe you'd like to go to the ball with me? I mean," he hastened on, "it would only make sense. And you did promise to show me a thing or two about dancing--"

"Yes," Padma interrupted, a slow smile lighting up her face. "Of course I'll go with you."

"Oh, good," Harry let out on a breath of relief.

Padma cocked her head at him, frowning a little. "You act as if you expected me to say no," she said curiously.

Harry ducked his head, the relief he felt colored with renewed nervousness. "Well," he said carefully, "you seemed sort of strange, yesterday. You just left without saying anything, and I thought maybe you were mad at me or something."

"Oh." Harry's heart busily plummeted past his toes as she paused for a long moment, looking as if she were struggling with words. "Not mad," she said finally. "Just a little ... confused. I needed some time to think about some things."

"But everything's alright?" he asked.

"Sure, everything's fine." She smiled at him again, though it didn't reach and illuminate her eyes like the last one had.

"Good," he answered, feeling the inevitable approach of an awkward moment. "So," He said quickly, "How about that fair trade business? You busy this Saturday?"

"Now I am. We can do Quidditch in the morning and dancing in the afternoon. Although," she frowned a bit, "I'll have to get a school broom. I actually never bought one."

"Oh, that's alright." Harry gestured to his chest. "The Quidditch Captain badge doubles as a key for the Quidditch supply shed. I can get you a broom. It might be better to learn on one of the slower ones anyway."

"Hear hear. Slow is good. I have no desire to go zipping and looping and crashing like you lot do." She grinned teasingly at him and then started sliding her notes into her bag. "And I'll find us a big enough room to work on dancing. And I'll borrow the wireless one of the girls in my dorm has. We'll have you waltzing and grinding with the best of them by the time the ball comes around."

"So you two are going together?" A new voice cut in before Harry could point out that Waltzing and grinding didn't seem like compatible forms of dancing. Both he and Padma turned to regard Parvati, who had slipped up behind them without either noticing.

"Yes, we are," Padma answered, an uncharacteristic edge in her voice.

"Hmph." Parvati stepped back and tossed her hair. Unlike Padma, she often wore hers loose and flowing down her back. "You know, Harry," she said, ignoring her sister, "you could just go with me, again. After all, we had such a wonderful time last year." She flicked a hooded glance at Padma and then finished with a sweet, "We are identical, you know. Why go to the trouble of getting another date when you have one all ready right here?" She indicated herself with a hand over her heart, the effect only ruined by the marked resemblance the gesture carried to one Professor Trelawney employed all too often.

"That's quite alright," Harry answered, trying hard not to laugh at the comparison. "I'm quite happy going with Padma, thanks."

Parvati dropped her dramatic pose and shot a truly venomous look at her twin before returning to Harry. "Well," she purred, "just let me know if you change your mind. After all, I'm a Gryffindor. It's always better to date inside the house, rather than out. Makes ... certain things so much easier." She licked her lips and cast her eyes up and down his form in a very disconcerting manner.

"Ah, sure," Harry agreed, casting a sideways look at his girlfriend. Her face was blank, though he could see irritation in the way her jaw was clenched. "But like I said, I'm quite happy with the way things are."

Parvati looked confused for a moment, as if he weren't following some script she'd set out for him. "Well, that's nice, I'm sure," she said after a pause, then turned to sweep dramatically away, being sure to let her robes swirl up around her knees and reveal her bare legs beneath as she left.

"Well, that was ... kinda uncomfortable," Harry observed, turning back to Padma.

"Oh, that's Parvati for you." She avoided his gaze and went back to packing her notes and quills.

"What do you mean? I mean, she's always been pretty nice to me, genuinely nice. Not like ... that." Harry waved vaguely after the departed girl, still a little unsettled by the saccharine tone of her voice.

"Hmm," Padma said noncommittally.

"No, seriously. What do you think is up?" Harry insisted.

She paused, hands suspended over the straps of her bag and her look considering. "Well," she said finally, dropping her hands into her lap, "you probably didn't see this, but she was a little bit behind us yesterday on the way back to Hogsmeade. We all turned around when you shouted. Hey, how did you know, anyway?" She paused mid sentence, as if just noticing his early warning.

"I can hear things." He frowned, gesturing helplessly as she gave him an encouraging look. "When Dementors get close, I hear ... some things. Professor Lupin--you remember him--he says I'm really susceptible to Dementor attacks. I guess I just felt them coming earlier than some other people, though I bet a bunch of students felt them. It was really cold, you know, too cold. I guess I was just the only one who recognized it for what it was."

Padma nodded, accepting the somewhat abridged explanation. "Right," she continued. "So we all turned around and people started running. Parvati and that girl Lavender, they were far enough down the hill so they would have no chance of getting to the castle. They ran anyway, but they'd only gotten a little behind us when you cast that spell." She paused, an odd, pinched expression crossing her face. "I heard Parvati scream and I turned to see. She looked ... she looked awestruck." She shrugged and turned back to her bag. "You've said yourself how some girls just chase after you for who you are. You can add Parvati to that list, especially after yesterday."

"I don't like that," Harry murmured distractedly, standing and helping Padma attach her cloak.

"I didn't think you would. Parvati would just love to be seen with a powerful, handsome wizard." She smiled a little sadly at his blush. "And after yesterday, you're not just powerful in name anymore."

"Good thing my name wasn't in The Prophet then," he said morosely.

"Definitely." She stood on tiptoes and pecked his lips. "Look, I've gotta run. My dorm mates and I are having a sort of girls' night."

"Have fun," Harry said, then caught her hands as she reached for the stack of books left on the table. "Don't worry about those. I'll take care of them."

"Thanks." She planted one more kiss on his mouth, then slipped away into the shelves.

Harry lifted the books into his arms and started off, glancing from the numbers on the spines to the signs above the shelves he passed. He didn't know how Muggle libraries possibly stayed organized with books being haphazardly put back all over the place. The Hogwarts library was invariably in pristine order, each book in its proper, labeled slot. He ducked down an aisle in the history section, carefully finding just the right spot before sliding in the appropriate book. The shelves would make a supremely rude noise and spit the book right back at you if you put it in the wrong spot, and that would invariably bring Madam Pince down on you, in full tirade about the Dewey Decimal System and, if you were really unlucky, alphabetical order.

Harry peered around the end of the aisle and squinted up at the library clock as he neared the end of his armload. Ron and Hermione should arrive any minute, so he quickened his pace into the next aisle. He stopped though as he came to the bottom of the pile and the slim volume Padma had been studying when he found her. It was entitled Cryssen de Lauvere: A Chronicle of The Early Years and A Study of Light and Dark. Harry eyed it for a long moment, his fingers toying with the pages. He flipped it open on his palm, watching as the pages fell open at the picture of the snake where the most recent creases in the spine guided them. He stared down at the snake for a long moment. She, for he had no doubt the serpent was female, was sleeping now, her massive head in profile and the tip of her long body twitching. Harry wondered randomly if she still moved, still breathed and slept and stared when the book was shut.

He quickly closed the volume, and then strode back to the table with it still in his hands. He knelt by his chair and slipped the book into the front pocket of his bag, making a mental note to check it out with Madam Pince before he left.

He wasn't really looking as he stood and turned, so he slammed full tilt into Hermione, sending her books flying and knocking her back into Ron.

"Whoa!" Ron grabbed her about the waist, steadying her and then letting his hands linger, his fingers stroking, unconsciously Harry thought, along the curve of her waist and the swell of her hips.

"Sorry." Harry bent and began collecting Hermione's books and bag, stacking them neatly on the table. "I wasn't looking."

"Apparently." Even if Ron wasn't aware of what he was doing, Hermione definitely was. She looked like she couldn't decide whether to yank away or sink back into his arms.

Harry eyed them warily for a moment, not sure himself what to do. But then he caught Hermione's downcast eyes and she straightened, stepping away from Ron.

"Right." She said, clasping her hands tightly before her as she approached the table. "There wasn't all that much, honestly. Just at first glance I'd have to say that a lot of these are more about Azkaban and its history, some of the famous prisoners and stuff. And I'm not sure if Dementors are listed in the Encyclopedia of Magical Creatures."

"I'll check that," Harry said, reaching for the book which was about the size of his head.

"No you don't." Hermione snatched it away and shoved it at Ron. "You are going to write a letter to Sirius."

Harry slumped down into his chair and groaned. "Hermiiiiiiione..."

"Oh, please. Would you rather do research?"

"In this case, yes." He pouted at her glare. "Look, I really don't know what to say. I mean, I can't make it sound like anything's really wrong or he'll drop everything and come running. But I have to get the point across that I'm curious about the Dementor attack, but I can't let on that I know anything's up with it in the first place."

"Just be subtle." Hermione settled down across the table, pushing quill and parchment towards him, and then more to Ron. "Take notes," she ordered, "And try to make them legible, will you? And comprehensible would be nice. And you," She wagged a finger at Harry, "get cracking on that casual yet inquisitive letter."

Harry scowled down at the blank parchment, flicking the quill between his fingers. Writing to Sirius had never been a problem before; in fact it had always been a pleasure. But now that he knew Sirius was keeping something from him, something big enough to warrant a Dementor attack, he didn't even know where to start. Right, he just needed to make this as normal as possible.

Dear Snuffles,

How are you? Everything's pretty normal here, just Quidditch and homework and Dementors. You know anything about that? I mean, I'm not accusing you or anything, but if you know something that involves me, it only makes sense that I'm let in on it.

Damn. That was all wrong.

Dear Snuffles,

Funny thing happened yesterday. We got attacked by Dementors. Weird, huh? What do you think about that. Say, you heard from Dumbledore or Professor Lupin lately?

Harry crumpled up that one too. "Third time's the charm," he muttered.

Dear Snuffles,

How are things? You doing alright? I haven't heard from you in a while and I was starting to worry a bit. I just wanted to make sure everything is going well, and tell you how things are here.

Padma and I are going to the Yule Ball together, and she's going to teach me how to dance. I'm kind of nervous about that, because I'm not sure you can teach someone to have rhythm.

Quidditch practice is going pretty well, and so are most of my classes. Potions, of course, is the exception, but that's nothing new.

Well now, that was good. Nice and normal, much like all the rest of his letters. Now he just needed to talk about the Dementors.

"Say Hermione--"

"No."

"You didn't even--"

"No, I will not write that for you, any more than I'd write your Potions essay for you." She didn't even bother looking up from her book as she spoke, and Harry decided not to waste a pout on someone who couldn't appreciate it.

"Meanie."

"Just, I don't know, just give a factual account of what happened and then ask what he thinks of it." She gestured disdainfully at his discarded parchments. "And stop wasting trees."

"Trees?" Ron looked up from The Encyclopedia. "Uh, Hermione, parchment doesn't come from trees. It comes from those neat mass-duplication spells."

"And where, exactly, do you think the material to make the paper you're duplicating comes from? Thin air?"

"Oh, don't tell me you're starting a Tree Liberation Front. I can just see it now, nice forest green buttons that flash 'Leaf Us Alone'!"

"Good idea, thanks," Harry said quickly. "I'll just, er, write that now."

"You do that," Hermione muttered, giving Ron a dark look. "And I think I'd be capable of thinking up something quite a bit more original than that, thank you not so very much."

Harry bent back to his parchment, giving an inward sigh of relief as Ron's only response was a grunt and a rustling of pages. He honestly couldn't understand why they fought like that. Granted, their personalities were sort of on the opposite ends of the spectrum, but weren't opposites supposed to attract? No, he reminded himself, the attraction was already there. It was just the whole issue of talking about it that got in the way.

I don't know if you get The Daily Prophet but even if you do you'd probably have missed it considering it was on the third page. More Ministry hush up, I suppose. Anyway, if you haven't heard, there was a Dementor sighting nearby. Not just a Dementor, either, but a whole slew of them. Army, I suppose. Anyway we were on our way back from Hogsmeade, and I turned back the bulk of them with a Patronus. I was sort of worried that they were from Azkaban, remembering what Dumbledore said last year. But I haven't heard anything about that. Have you? Maybe Professor Lupin might know something.

Harry paused, then erased that last sentence. He didn't want any hints that he knew Professor Lupin had been at Hogwarts, or that Sirius himself already knew what was going on. So:

Anyway, write back soon, I'm waiting to hear from you. And take care of yourself.

Harry.

He lifted the sheet and waved it to dry the ink, reading as he did. "Okay," He said, "I think that's good."

"Let's see." Hermione snatched the letter from him and perused it quickly.

"What, you won't help me with it but you'll criticize?" Harry asked.

"I find all those atrocious spelling mistakes in your essays, don't I?" She finished the letter and then nodded. "That's good."

"Okay, this is ridiculous." Ron slammed the encyclopedia shut and thudded his fist down on top of it. "What good is this thing if every single thing I look up just refers me to another entry which just refers me to another which just refers me back to the first?"

"What have you checked?" Hermione reached for the book and slid it towards her.

"Everything from Azkaban to spirits. The only entry with any information was 'Dementor' and all it said was 'origin unknown. Classification unknown.' That's real helpful."

"Well, that sort of makes sense. I mean, who wants to get close enough to a Dementor to figure out its genus and species?"

"Well, don't give up yet." Hermione pushed the encyclopedia away and reached for another book, nearly as large. "That was just a reference for magical creatures. We've still got some more specific books to look through. I'm sure we'll find something. Say, Harry are you going to send that letter right now?"

"I was planning on hitting the owlery after dinner, why?"

Hermione ducked under the table and came up with her overstuffed bag. "Because I have a letter to send, and I figured the sooner it goes out, the sooner an answer can come back."

She extended a roll to him and Harry accepted it. "Where to? And do you want me to use a school owl, or Hedwig?"

"It's for Viktor. But you can't use Hedwig, remember? We're supposed to bring our pets to magical creatures tomorrow. You'll have to send both using school owls."

"Aren't you going to send Viktor a Christmas present?" Ron asked, eyeing the letter as if it were a Flobberworm.

"Um, well, actually..." Hermione chewed her lip, looking suddenly very nervous. "I won't have to send it. Viktor will be coming out here for Christmas. He'd originally planned to stay at my house just over the break with my parents and me, but I've asked him to come out two days early so we can go to the ball."

Ron went through a whole spectrum of colors, from white to red, to an alarming purple, before finally settling on a greenish tint. "That's ... that's nice," He finally croaked. "Saves you the trouble of finding a date to the ball, at least."

"Yeah," Hermione answered, looking nearly as upset as Ron did.

"Um, so, you're both going home this Christmas," Harry said, trying to break the tension.

"I guess." Hermione smiled half-heartedly up at him. "Will you mind being alone? Because I'm sure my parents would--"

"My mom already invited him, remember?" Ron cut in. "And it's not safe."

"Oh, don't worry about it." Harry stood up quickly, gathering the letters. "I'm sure I'll find something to occupy my time. I'll be back in a bit after I mail these." He turned and escaped as quickly as he could without looking like he was actually running. The heavy, thick quality to the air around those two was really getting to him. And, more than that, the news that Hermione was going home as well was a bit of a surprise. Granted, he remembered now that she'd mentioned Viktor's visit to him months ago, but he hadn't thought it through.

Now, as he started climbing the long way up to the owlery, he couldn't help feeling a little sorry for himself at the prospect of the long, lonely holiday ahead. He didn't think Moody would be particularly festive company, no matter what he was teaching Harry.

The only thing that really consoled him as he continued on his way was the thought that perhaps Hagrid would be back before the next term began. It would be lovely to see his friend again. Harry had missed his unflagging kindness, his ingenuous smile, even his cooking. He decided to ask Professor McKinnon at the next Magical Creatures class about it, see if she knew when the Groundskeeper would be back.

Harry broke into a light jog, realizing that it wouldn't be particularly wise to leave Ron and Hermione alone together. Better get back as soon as possible and play distraction and middleman.

He wasn't particularly looking where he was going, just involved in his worries and thoughts, so it wasn't surprising that he plunged headfirst into another person as they both rounded a corner from opposite directions and turned towards the owlery. Ginny let out a grunt of surprise, the force of the encounter sending her sprawling. Harry staggered back against the wall, groaning as his glasses dug painfully into his face where her head had struck him.

"Ow," she muttered, slowly pulling herself to her feet.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Ginny," he said, reaching forward as much to steady himself as her. "Are you alright?"

"Fine." She bent and retrieved a letter from the ground, smoothing out some wrinkles. "In a hurry?" she asked as she rose again.

"Yeah. I wanted to get back to the library as fast as I could. Ron and Hermione are being weird again." He shrugged helplessly and was gratified as she nodded in understanding, her eyes sparking with amusement and exasperation. "I just need to mail some letters. You heading up there too?"

"I'm sending Mum our replies, telling her what time to pick us up at the station." They turned as one, beginning the climb up the narrow stairway. "It's too bad you can't come along with us," she added.

Harry shot her a quick look, something telling him she didn't think it was too bad at all. But that made little sense, so he dismissed the odd thought. "I'll be fine here. I'm sure I'll find enough to occupy my time," he said casually.

"I'm sure Hermione will be glad to oblige," she said, almost archly.

"Ginny?" Harry stopped as they entered the owlery, putting a hand on her arm and turning her to face him. "I sort of wanted to talk to you about that, actually."

"Oh, don't worry." She shook off his hand and crossed to the rows of perches. "I won't go around telling people, especially not Ron."

"That's not what I meant," he said, a little surprised by her brusqueness. He'd always known Ginny to be soft-spoken, almost painfully polite. "I wanted to make sure you knew that there's nothing going on with Hermione and me. I had just had a nightmare and she happened to be in the common room when I came down. We just fell asleep like that."

She paused a moment, her hands poised over a spotted school owl. "Why are you telling me this?" she asked, her head turned away.

"Well, I just ... you ... Ron ..." Harry let out an exasperated grunt and dropped his head into his hands. "Look, I just wanted to be sure you didn't get the wrong impression. I know Ron likes Hermione, and sometimes he gets really angry--"

"Well I don't want to snog Hermione, so this really doesn't concern me," she said, tying the letter to the owl's leg and moving to the window with it.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked, feeling like he was missing something really important here. "You're acting sort of strange."

She spun abruptly back to him as the owl departed, her lips tight with anger. "Not that you'd know," she snapped. "It's not like you even really know what's normal for me anyway. And just so you know, I don't care what you do with Hermione. Just make sure Ron doesn't find out."

"I'm not--"

"See you around," she said, brushing past him and practically running down the stairs. Harry stared after her, hurt and baffled by her outburst. When he finally moved, retrieving two owls and giving them their instructions, ignoring Hedwig's indignant hoot at being passed up for duty, his mind was not on what he was doing. He kept replaying Ginny's words in his head, remembering the anger on her face, and then thinking about the desperation he'd seen in her that morning several weeks before. He felt like he was seeing half the picture, like there was something important going on, something he had to figure out.

But at the same time it was Ginny's business, and if she was angry with him he probably shouldn't go snooping in it. Sighing, and thinking almost nostalgically of the days when she just had a little crush on him and would blush and stammer, he turned away from the departing owls and headed for the stairs himself. He would see Ginny soon enough at Quidditch practice, and maybe then he could apologize, for whatever it was he had done.

***

"Catch him!"

"Hey, watch it!"

"Everybody duck!"

The fifty or so students passing through the entrance hall all hit the ground and covered their heads as a feathered missile shot overhead and thudded against the far wall.

"Bloody hell, what was that?" Seamus pulled himself up, gawking at the lump now twitching and rolling about on the floor.

"That is my owl," Ron growled, approaching Pig menacingly. "And he's about to come along nice and quiet like, aren't you?"

Pig's miniscule head appeared from under a rumpled wing. He took one look at the towering figure of his owner and promptly took off again, though his flight was a little wobbly from his abrupt collision with the stone wall.

"Oh for--" was as far as Ron got as his grab was woozily evaded and all the people who had just begun to pick themselves up dove back to the floor.

Harry, still on the stairs from the second floor, watched with a growing sense of doom as Pig attempted to dive bomb a group of cowering Ravenclaws.

"What on Earth?" he heard from behind him, then Hermione pushed him aside. She looked rather silly, with her usually bursting book bag now nearly empty. Nearly, that was, except for an irritated looking Crookshanks whose disgruntled head peered out of the flap and over her shoulder with interest at the still rampaging Pig. "Hasn't anybody heard of a summoning charm?" she muttered, reaching for her wand. "Put those Quidditch skills of yours to good use, will you?" she added.

Before Harry could answer she had taken a step behind him and performed the spell, her shouted "Accio Pigwidgeon!" cutting through the tumult in the room.

The tiny owl let out a squawk of surprised indignation as he abruptly changed course midair and shot at an even more alarming speed towards the stairs. Harry crouched a little, waiting for just the right moment as the rabid little thing whizzed over his head towards the quickly retreating Hermione.

Then he sprung.

There was an astounding shriek from Pig, a sound which seemed completely impossible coming from such a little bird. Harry found himself at the center of a veritable explosion of feathers and pecking and more outlandish noises. It took him nearly a minute to subdue the beast and by then Ron had panted up the stairs to them, open cage swinging from his hand and his face beet red.

"Get him in, get him in!" he exclaimed, practically stuffing the protesting owl through the door and then slamming it shut. There was a collective sigh of relief below them and Hedwig, who had spent the entire episode perched on Harry's shoulder, gave a disapproving hoot. Pig retorted with a high-pitched squeak, and the hall slowly returned to normal amidst the preceding owl argument.

"Right then," Hermione said, coming back down the stairs. "We'll be late."

"This better be worth it," Ron muttered rebelliously as they continued down the stairs and towards the main doors of the castle.

"I'm sure it will be," Harry assured. "Professor McKinnon usually has interesting lessons, remember?"

"Bloody menace," Ron muttered, though Harry assumed he was talking about Pig, not McKinnon. The substitute teacher had requested that everyone who had one should bring their personal pets to class that day. No one really knew why, but it sounded like a supremely bad idea to Harry. All those cats and owls and rats and who knew what all in one place couldn't end well.

Hedwig gave a final, quelling volley towards Pig, then folded her wings neatly and rubbed her cheek against Harry's. "You have a bad feeling about this, too?" he asked her in an undertone. She cocked her head, her intelligent eyes studying him closely. "Yeah, I thought so."

The three crossed the lawn in silence, and Harry could see that they were the last to arrive to the joint Gryffindor-Slytherin lesson. Seamus had arrived just before them, blessedly free of animal companionship.

After a few moments of startled yelps and general mayhem of squeaks and meows and flapping wings, they all settled in a loose circle around Professor McKinnon where she sat in front of Hagrid's hut.

"Good morning everybody," She began cheerfully. "I see many of you have brought your own brand of magical creatures along today."

"Wish I hadn't," Ron muttered, still glaring at the now subdued Pig. Harry had to silently agree. The morning had been going just fine, all three friends and their respective creatures making their way down towards class after Charms. That was, until Ron got fed up with Pig's incessant squealing and let him out of his cage to fly ahead.

"Let's see." McKinnon stood up and began making her way around the circle. "We have several owls, three cats, a toad, and two rats." Ron shuddered. Harry couldn't really blame him. Ron had taken the truth about Scabbers very personally, and hadn't tolerated a rat since. "Now, the reason I've asked you all to bring your friends along today is that we will be discussing some of the grayer areas of the study of magical creatures." The Professor returned to the center of the circle and lifted a copy of their textbook, furling its pages. "This book tells you about the really magical creatures, the Unicorns and Centaurs, Hippogriffs and Sprites, all the ones that Muggles only dream of." She dropped the book again and surveyed them. "But they aren't the only creatures who contain magic. Muggles might not know it, but they are actually looking at magical creatures everyday. Can anybody tell me where magic comes from?" she asked.

There was a resounding silence.

"Oh my," she murmured. "Well, don't worry if none of you know. I have a feeling it is a topic you will be discussing in another of your classes very soon." Hermione looked disappointed to have to wait, and Harry realized for the first time that she, too, had been baffled by the question. He was surprised that she hadn't encountered such a seemingly basic fact in all her readings. "So," McKinnon continued, "Let's just pass over that question for the moment and simply say that like human beings, certain species of animals have both magical and non-magical representatives."

"You're saying there are Muggle owls and magic owls?" Ron asked, surprised.

"Exactly." She smiled, then nodded at Pig. "Though I can assure you that any owl who is capable of carrying a message in a timely and proper manner is magical."

"Oh, my bird's a squib," Ron mumbled.

"In any case," McKinnon went on, "It works the same way for all the animals I see represented here. Some cats are born magical, some are not. Not many of the smaller rodents are magical in a way we can truly measure, but it would not be a lie to say that some do contain a spark of magic all their own. Now, can anybody hazard a guess about what, exactly, this magic entails?"

There was another pause, then Hermione's hand slowly rose. "Well, take owls," she started as McKinnon nodded to her. "You said an owl who could carry a message was magical. But it must not just be the ability to fly with a bit of parchment tied to your leg. I was thinking that the magic you're talking about is a sort of heightened awareness and understanding." She glanced up at Harry and the owl on his shoulder. "Sometimes I swear Hedwig understands every word Harry is saying."

"Excellent, Miss Granger. Five points to Gryffindor. Miss Granger is quite correct about the nature of an owl's magic," She explained to the rest of the class. "It is a sort of heightened intelligence, to put it in very basic terms. Some owls have other abilities, such as finding people and places they've never been before. Some Magizoologists claim that there is a sort of magical owl communication network, but that has yet to be proved or disproved as the source of such an ability. Other owls have incredible speed, seeming almost to Apparate from one place to another." She paused at their surprised gasps. "They don't, of course. Apparition requires the recitation of a specific incantation which you will all be learning in a few years. But it looks almost like they are Apparating when they zoom about so fast."

"What about the other animals?" Neville asked, eyeing Trevor with interest. "Do they understand us better, too?"

"Mostly, yes. How many of you have sometimes felt like your cat, or owl, or whatever was really listening to you and understanding you? Or have you even thought that they were communicating with you in their own way?" She glanced around and nodded as practically every hand went up. Even, Harry noticed with an inward chuckle, Crabbe and Goyle's. He had always thought they had a hard enough time understanding each other, let alone a pet. "Different animals have different talents, much as different wizards do. Some cats, dogs, foxes and such have a nearly uncanny sense of other animals, able to spot transfigurations and illusions where a revealing spell could not."

"So you're saying some Muggle," Malfoy's voice made the word an epithet, "could actually have a magical creature in their home? Shouldn't something be done about that?"

"Yes and no." McKinnon paused, as if searching for a way that would help them understand. "Let's see, have you all studied the sticking charms yet?" They all nodded, some more ruefully than others. Harry had to suppress a wince at the memory of his hands irreversibly clasped together by an attraction spell. It had taken Flitwick nearly half an hour to reverse that. "Well then, Muggles have a similar system, though they call it magnets. It's not a spell, of course, but a particular material which reacts in a similar way to the attractive and repellant nature of Earth itself." She sighed as everybody but Hermione looked confused. "Basically, the Muggles make metal stick to metal. Wizards use magnetic forces as well, usually in the preparation of potions, but it is not a widely known or understood phenomenon. Well, magic seems to act in a similar way. Magical creatures tend to end up in magical families. This is not, of course, a hard and fast rule, but that isn't a big issue. A Muggle who had a magical cat, for instance, would probably attribute its unusual nature to great intelligence, if he even noticed at all." She smiled at Draco's disbelief. "You'll find, Mr. Malfoy, that Muggles, wizards as well, don't see what they don't want to, or what doesn't fit in with what they know. There is no real harm in a Muggle having a magical creature, either to the Muggle or the animal. It just adds to the legends which surround certain breeds in Muggle eyes."

"How do we tell if our animal is magical?" Neville asked. "You said owls carry messages, but what about the rest?"

"Well, that's harder to pin down. For some reason, owls are the animal which is easiest to discern. This is possibly because few Muggles keep owls for pets. For cats, dogs, other birds, even fish and toads, it is more difficult to tell. But I'm sure if you keep your eye out, you'll spot something. It could be anything really, from surprisingly fast healing in some aquatic species to that increased awareness we were speaking of earlier. Now," McKinnon reached into her robes and removed her wand. "You're probably all wondering why I asked you to bring your friends today. I could have just as easily explained all this without them here. So, what we're going to do is go around the circle. If you have an animal, please tell us its name and a little bit about it, perhaps why you feel it is magical and what it's talents are."

"What's the wand for?" Millicent Bulstrode demanded, hugging a surprisingly fluffy brown cat close to her chest.

"That's the other reason why I asked you to bring your animals. We've been experiencing a few problems about the castle with small vermin, and sanitation in general. Just as a precaution, I will be performing an advanced sanitation spell on all your creatures. Don't worry, it won't hurt them a bit. I promise they'll smell minty fresh when I'm done, and they'll stay clean for several weeks to come." She glanced around the circle, and then gestured to Neville. "So, Mr. Longbottom, who is this delightful fellow?"

As Neville explained how he'd acquired Trevor, and about his odd habit of being able to blend in almost anywhere, in spite of his vibrantly green color, McKinnon gently took the toad from his hands. Hermione leaned forward with interest and watched as she performed a complicated series of wand movements, and murmured a long string of Latin.

"She wasn't kidding when she said advanced," Ron observed. "That sounded like a bloody paragraph."

"The length of the incantation has little to do with the level of the spell's difficulty," Hermione remarked, though she didn't take her eyes off McKinnon. Glancing at her, Harry couldn't help noticing the odd intensity in her look, that expression he'd seen many times before when Hermione thought she was on to something.

"What?" he asked in a low voice as McKinnon moved on to Dean and his spotted owl.

"Shh." Hermione lifted a hand and Harry obliged, listening as he thought Hermione was to McKinnon as she repeated the spell. "Give me parchment," Hermione hissed. "And a quill. I left mine in the dorm so Crookshanks would be more comfortable."

"What--" Ron started.

"Parchment, now." Hermione snapped.

Shrugging, Harry obliged. Hermione snatched the sheet from him, drawing up her knees and tucking it against them so it would be hidden from the rest of the class. She seized the quill and ink as well, leaning forward even further as McKinnon came to Parvati and her little black kitten. Hermione's lips moved, a beat behind McKinnon's as her hand flew across the page. As far as Harry could tell, she was transcribing the spell.

"It's just a sanitation spell," Ron said, looking confused. "No need to get all excited."

"But it's not just a sanitation spell," Hermione hissed. McKinnon was now exactly opposite them, her back turned as she spoke with Lavender. "Look at this." She shoved the parchment at them, then snatched it back at their blank looks. "Just give me a minute to figure it out."

She bent over the page, writing, then crossing out, then writing again. Harry and Ron exchanged a look, then as one converged on her and peered over her shoulders.

"Say, that sort of looks like that finding spell we learned in charms last year," Ron said, pointing at the first word.

"Sort of, but not exactly," Harry agreed.

"It's in a different conjugation, that's all," Hermione explained. Then, as she finished and examined her work she let out a satisfied, and surprised, "Huh."

"What?" Harry reached for the paper, and frowned at Hermione's neat writing beneath the lines of Latin. "Reveal thyself, show me thy true form. Banish these masks, and let them no longer trouble mine eyes. Be clean." He read softly. "What in the world is that?"

"Some cleaning spell," Ron muttered. "And what's up with the 'thy' and 'mine eyes'? None of our other spells are like that. They just say, Light, or like that last bit, 'be clean.' Much easier to remember."

"It means it's really old. Spells weren't always just one simple command word, but they'd be like this." Hermione glanced up from the sheet, then quickly tucked it away as McKinnon approached.

"Well now," the Professor said, "What an energetic fellow he is."

"What does it do?" Harry mouthed to Hermione as Ron talked about Pig, being sure to disclaim that the name was not his idea. Hermione just shook her head, cutting her eyes towards McKinnon.

Harry waited impatiently as the Professor worked her way through Pig, Crookshanks, and then admired Hedwig's elegant self. He contained himself as she continued around the circle until she was three people away, leaning over Pansy Parkinson.

"Well?" he whispered.

"It's actually two spells. The last bit is clear enough, a rather simple cleaning spell we learned in second year. See, watch there." As Harry followed her glance to McKinnon, and observed her perform the spell more closely, he saw that Hermione was right. The last wand gesture and word were very familiar.

"And the first part?" he asked.

It is a revealing spell," Hermione said, nodding at Ron who appeared to swell where he sat. "And I could be wrong, but I think it's supposed to reveal Animagi, or a person otherwise transfigured into an animal."

"Huh," Harry said thoughtfully. "I think you're right. It would make sense. Good security, after Skeeter and The Rat."

Ron grunted an ascent, though he wasn't looking at them. "Lookit that," he said, jerking his chin to where McKinnon was standing before Malfoy and the large owl perched on his arm.

"He looks furious," Hermione observed.

"Probably at the thought that his precious, pureblood owl would have fleas," Ron snapped.

"No, no I don't think so." Harry leaned closer to them, gesturing slightly. "Look at McKinnon. She's just staring at him, not the owl."

"You think maybe he knows it's not just a cleaning spell?" Hermione suggested.

"I think maybe he's supposed to. Look, remember the other morning, how Dumbledore made fun of Snape in front of everybody? I think it's like that. It's supposed to send a message to the right people, the one's who are watching."

"You're starting to think like a Slytherin," Ron said dubiously.

"Not just me. I bet you my Firebolt Dumbledore put her up to it. It seems like something he'd do." Harry glared morosely at Malfoy as McKinnon moved on to finish the circle. "I just keep wondering how many things like this I've missed over the past few years."

"We've been over this." Hermione placed a gentle hand on his arm. "Dumbledore does what he must. And I really can't blame him for wanting Malfoy to know, and to tell his father, that we're being careful, that we won't be surprised again."

"I know." Harry sighed and absently smoothed Hedwig's feathers. "I know and I think I understand, but that doesn't mean I have to like it."

His friends didn't have a chance to reply as McKinnon finished her tour of the class and returned to the center to address them. "Alright everybody, I'm letting you all out twenty minutes early so you'll have time to return your friends to the owlery or your dorms before lunch. Thank you all for an enjoyable lesson."

"Ooo, lunch." Ron scrambled to his feet, giving Pig a look as the owl began caterwauling.

"Er, I need to ask McKinnon some stuff," Harry said, reaching for his bag and the book tucked within.

"You're not going to ask about the spell, are you? Because all she'll say is that it was necessary, or that Dumbledore told her to."

"No, not that." Harry's questing fingers encountered the smooth leather and he drew out the text. "I just have a few questions about snakes."

"Do you want us to wait?" Hermione asked, looking a bit dubious about his explanation.

Harry shrugged and stood. "You don't have to. But lunch doesn't start for twenty minutes anyway, so why not?" This would probably turn out to be nothing, and if he told them to leave they'd just get curious and worry.

He didn't wait for an answer, but crossed to McKinnon. He could hear his friend's moving behind him as he approached.

"Professor? Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"What do you need, Harry?" She turned to him, reaching a gentle finger to stroke Hedwig's feathers.

"Well, I was doing some research for a history project, and I ran across a picture of a snake. I just have a few questions about it, and snakes in general."

McKinnon nodded and started to reach for the book, then paused. "Tell you what. I remember a while back you said you had some questions about phoenixes, too. Did you ever get them answered?"

"No. I haven't really looked, though."

"Well, I've always found it easier to learn hands on than from a book. Why don't you, and your friends as well, wait for me in the hut here. I try to spend some time in there everyday to keep Fang company for Professor Hagrid. I'll be back down in about ten minutes with some demonstration materials." She paused and grinned at their expressions. "And lunch, of course."

"That would be brilliant," Harry said, happy to be able to enter Hagrid's cabin again. He'd missed the feeling of complete safety he had there, the smell of growing things and decaying things. Of course it all wouldn't be complete without its usual occupant, but he'd be seeing Hagrid soon enough.

"So, I'll send down lunch with some elves, and be back directly." McKinnon trotted off towards the castle, completely missing Hermione's disapproving look at the mention of House Elves.

"Oi, Fang!" Harry called as he opened the cabin door. The massive hound nearly sent the three of them toppling with his exuberant greeting, and it took nearly the entire wait for lunch to settle him down.

"Poor guy, he must be lonely down here without Hagrid," Hermione said, scratching behind the ears and doing her best to avoid the drool. Crookshanks, peering over her shoulder, gave a sort of kitty 'humph' and settled back to sleep in Hermione's bag.

"Mr. Harry Potter, sir. I is having lunch for you and your Weasel and your Hermi and the very kind Professor."

"Hey, Dobby," Harry greeted, moving forward to help clear the table. "Goodness, are you trying to feed an army?"

"Harry Potter sir needs to eat much," the elf proclaimed, herding Harry towards the head of the table. "Harry Potter sir needs to eat until he goes pop."

"You're exactly right, Dobby," Hermione said, moving to sit beside Harry and surveying the vast array of sandwiches, the platter of bread and the seeming cauldronful of pasta and salad.

Dobby beamed at the praise, then leapt lightly onto the table, snatched Harry's empty plate and began filling it with enormous portions. "Dobby will help make Harry Potter sir nice and fat for his Weasel and his Hermi," he said cheerfully.

Before he could protest, Harry found himself face-to-face with a truly heaped plate of lunch and presented quite pointedly with a fork. "Harry Potter sir is much too skinny. And he doesn't eat enough."

"Alright, alright." Harry accepted the treatment with as much good humor as he could manage. He was hungry, but that wasn't saying much considering hunger had become his perpetual state these days. Now it was just a matter of coping with the food.

"Here we are," McKinnon said as she opened the door. Looking up, Harry was more than a little surprised to see who, or what, was accompanying her.

"Wow, is that a phoenix?" Hermione asked, her eyes going round.

"It's Fawkes," Harry explained. "Dumbledore's phoenix. Hullo, Fawkes." The phoenix eyed him and gave a trill in greeting.

"So you've met. I thought you might have." McKinnon settled herself at the table, dismissing Dobby with kind thanks, which seemed to soften Hermione a bit. "He had a burning day about a week ago, so he's at his brightest."

"He's lovely," Hermione murmured, then laughed as Fawkes turned to her and bobbed his head. "I didn't know Dumbledore had a phoenix," she continued, watching the light shimmer about Fawkes with fascination.

"He stays in the office, mostly. He's quite an effective guardian. He has an uncanny sense for danger and lies. He also is a wonderful messenger, faster and safer than an owl for those things that just need to stay quiet." Fawkes hopped lightly from her arm onto the table, looking around at the company with interest as McKinnon filled her own plate.

"He's not mentioned in Hogwarts: A History." Hermione observed. "Does that mean that he's not a permanent part of the castle and the defenses?"

"Phoenixes attach themselves to a person, not a place. They tend to choose their, well I suppose you'd have to say partner. Anyway, they choose this partner when the human is relatively young, usually in their teens or a little older. They are fiercely loyal, and stay by the side of their chosen companion until their death." She hesitated a moment, then sighed. "Or until they renounce their oath to light magic."

"Will he eat with us?" Ron asked, extending a crust for Fawkes.

"Maybe." McKinnon smiled indulgently as Fawkes minced across the table towards Ron, eyeing the bread speculatively. "It's a little odd, about phoenixes. They can eat human food, but they don't have to. No one really knows what they do eat. They just seem to sustain themselves on air."

"He seems to like it," Ron observed as Fawkes delicately accepted the offering, then devoured it with interest.

"Here, try this." Hermione plucked a slice of meat from the platter and extended it on her finger. Fawkes moved up the table to her, his beautiful wings held high for balance. The phoenix had nearly reached Hermione when their came an indignant yowl from behind her. An orange blur flew onto the table and resolved itself into a hissing Crookshanks.

"Crookshanks!" Hermione reached for her cat in dismay. "That's a phoenix. Behave yourself!" But the cat ignored her, keeping his huge, golden eyes locked firmly on Fawkes. His enormous, bottlebrush tail was puffed and his back was arched in challenge.

"Well now, that is odd." McKinnon rose and rounded the table, extending an arm for Fawkes and gesturing for Hermione to get Crookshanks.

"I don't know what's wrong with him." Hermione struggled a moment with her recalcitrant cat, and finally scooped him up by the scruff of the neck. She held him, kicking and protesting, for a moment before rising and hurrying across the room to put him outside.

"He's just ill-tempered," Ron said, reaching a tentative finger to touch Fawkes tail feathers. "I've been saying that for years."

"He is an interesting fellow," McKinnon agreed, waving aside Hermione's apologies. "Don't worry. See, Fawkes isn't even rumpled. Your cat probably just didn't like you giving attention to any other creature."

"I suppose." Hermione frowned back over her shoulder. "But really, he is a silly cat sometimes."

"Can I get that in writing?" Ron asked.

"Oh, be quiet." Hermione retook her seat, as did McKinnon after she'd deposited Fawkes onto the table between Hermione and Harry.

"So, Harry, what was it you wanted to ask about phoenixes?"

"Well, I looked them up in our textbook, and there really wasn't much there." Harry reached for his fork, wanting it to appear that he was eating something like everyone else. He was a little unnerved by the way Fawkes watched his every move.

"Well, that's probably because there's not much known about phoenixes. Did you have a specific topic in mind?"

"Well, I was wondering about this business with other dimensions. I mean, our textbooks almost never talk about unproven theories and speculation, but that was practically the entire entry on phoenixes."

McKinnon nodded, watching in amusement as Fawkes moved purposefully towards Harry. "Watch out Harry, Fawkes is on a mission."

"What does he--oh." Harry's question was answered as the bird stepped off the table and dropped lightly to his lap, where he promptly settled in quite comfortably. Harry felt a warmth spread through him from every place Fawkes touched, and he smiled in pleasure down at the phoenix. "Glad I make a good pillow, there, Fawkes."

"To answer your question, I honestly don't know much more about the theories of dimensionality than is written in our book." McKinnon paused, noticing Ron's blank look. Hermione, as usual, looked as if she had read the relevant passage at least three times. "Some Magizoologists have put together some seemingly unrelated facts and concluded that phoenixes have access to another realm of sorts, a sort of higher plane, I suppose you could say. There's no conclusive evidence to persuade me either way, though Fawkes here does disappear every once in a while with no explanation."

"Sort of sounds like Dementors," Hermione said. "It's all theory, not much evidence."

"Well, I wouldn't say phoenixes were much like Dementors in any other way," Ron pointed out, jerking his thumb to where Fawkes was emitting a low-level humming against Harry's ribs.

"Well, no, of course not. But you are right about the lack of evidence. It is frustrating that this field has gotten so little attention in recent decades, indeed in the majority of magical history. I have long said that much could be learned from our feathered or four-footed friends." McKinnon smiled fondly at Fawkes, then over at the dozing Hedwig and the happily munching Pig. "It's exciting to know that there's so much knowledge out there just waiting to be discovered, but it's frustrating, as I said."

"It said in my book that Godric Gryffindor had a phoenix," Harry observed. He reached for his fork and speared some salad, munching contentedly. On his lap Fawkes stirred a little, renewing his gentle hum and rubbing his cheek against Harry's stomach.

"I remember reading that, yes. And it would make sense. Gryffindor was, after all, a great wizard in the history of light magic. I'm sorry I can't help you more here, Harry, but I know little more than is in your textbooks."

"Salright. It's not particularly important anyway. I was just curious more than anything." Harry paused, catching an odd look from Hermione out of the corner of his eye. Turning, he saw her and Ron exchanging glances, then casting secretive smiles towards him. "What?"

"Oh, nothing," Hermione said complacently.

Harry just shrugged, biting into a truly decadent turkey sandwich. "How about snakes? Do you think you can help me out there?"

"Possibly." McKinnon extended her hand, accepting the book Harry offered and opening it to the page he indicated. "Oh my, isn't she a big one."

"So it is a she. I thought so." Harry felt secretly pleased that he had been right about that, no matter how much the very existence of that drawing disturbed him.

"She's about a meter too long to be a male." McKinnon observed, tracing the drawing with a finger. "And quite the unusual specimen."

"What kind of snake is she?" Harry asked

"They're called Inficius snakes, or at least they were." McKinnon squinted down at the caption and then nodded. "Yes, this date is just about right. You see, they've been extinct for a little over five hundred years. They were actually pretty well entrenched in the British Isles, though they luckily never really spread onto the continent."

Ron rose and went around to look over McKinnon's shoulder. "Why luckily?" He asked. "I mean, she does look pretty nasty, but were they really dangerous?"

"Good lad." McKinnon smiled up at him approvingly. "Never let yourself be deceived by appearances, no matter how deadly, or beautiful a thing is. I said luckily because in this case the dangerous appearance is warranted. Inficio means to infect or to poison. And it's well deserved. The venom of these snakes was nearly as deadly as that of a Basilisk."

"If they were so populous, why are they extinct now?" Hermione asked, taking a look herself.

"They were hunted out and killed over the course of several centuries. Let's see, yes this book is about Cryssen ee Lauvere. She was not the first dark witch or wizard to have a snake as a companion, and it seems that the Inficius snakes were particular favorites. So the people of Britain killed any Inficius they found, usually by magical means, as any other way would be rather dangerous."

"Why would people who aren't Parselmouths want snakes as pets or familiars or what have you?" Harry asked, leaning forward. "That doesn't make sense. It seems like the dark wizard would be in as much danger as anybody from that sort of snake."

"A mystery which I also don't have the answer to." McKinnon returned the book to him and smiled wryly. "You're just full of difficult questions, aren't you?"

"Sorry." Harry smiled back and tucked the book away, careful not to disturb Fawkes. For some reason the presence of the phoenix filled him with a sense of peace, both physical and emotional. He could almost literally feel his muscles unknotting, one sinew at a time. "It just seems strange." He hesitated a moment, then decided just to plunge on. "I'm a Parselmouth, you know, and I still get nervous around snakes."

"That's because the only one you've ever really chatted with was a Basilisk," Ron pointed out.

"Still. It's bothering me." Harry shrugged again and reached for the bread. Hermione shifted it closer to him, that smile curving her lips again. "Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked, confused and exasperated.

"I'll tell you after lunch," she said, her smile widening.

"So is that why you were curious about this snake, because you're a Parselmouth?" Ron asked. "And why were you doing research on this de Lauvere person anyway?"

"I wasn't. Padma was and I happened to see the picture in the book." Harry paused again, eyeing McKinnon. He debated with himself about airing his concerns, but finally decided to go with his gut instinct. He liked McKinnon, genuinely and immediately, and he trusted her with what could be a sensitive topic. "The truth is, I recognized her."

"From where?" Hermione extended her hand and Harry dug out the book again so she could take a closer look.

"You guys never saw her. Her name is Nagini, and she's Voldemort's snake." He glanced up to watch McKinnon's reaction, and was gratified by her start.

"Hmm," she said. "It is of course possible that a few snakes survived the purges and have bred."

"No, that's not what I meant. I recognized her, the individual snake. That snake in that book is the spitting image of Nagini."

"It's a snake, Harry. How can you tell them apart?" Ron asked dubiously.

"Believe me, I almost was Nagini's bite-sized Harry snack. I remember her markings and everything about her very clearly." He glanced at McKinnon again. "Do you know if Inficius snakes were identical? Do they all have the same pattern of markings?"

"Not that I know of. I recognized the species by the shape of her head." McKinnon eyed him a long moment, her face unreadable. "But I do know that they did not possess extraordinary lifespans. They lived a few decades, that's all."

"So it can't be her," Hermione said, sounding reassured.

"I suppose." Harry sighed and laid a hand on Fawkes' back, feeling a sort of thrum emanating from the phoenix, more a function of touch than sound.

"You don't sound convinced," McKinnon observed, then nodded as Harry reluctantly shrugged. "Look, I'll do a little checking, but I'm nearly positive about that lifespan business. But I'll check the few sketches and engravings we have of Inficius snakes, see if they are at all identical."

"Aren't you leaving soon?" Hermione asked, then hurried on with, "Not that I want you to go, but I just thought you would only be here until Christmas."

"I will." She nodded and then poured some more tea for them all. "Professor Hagrid will be returning from his business before the next term begins. I'll be long gone by then."

"Will you be spending the holidays with family?" Ron asked, reaching for the dessert tray.

McKinnon paused, her teacup halfway to her lips. "Part of it, yes." She set the cup down without drinking. "I actually don't have much family left. Just my father and uncle."

"Oh," said Ron, flushing a little. "I didn't mean to--"

McKinnon waved him off, smiling distantly. "It's quite alright. It's been a long time. My husband and son have been gone for many years, my sister even longer." A wistful smile crossed her face at the mention of her sister, and Harry felt suddenly her eagerness to speak of that absent sibling. He could sort of understand that, in a vague, someday kind of way. He could intellectually know how the pain of a loss went from knifing agony to a constant pain, and finally faded into a sort of bittersweet acceptance, where remembering was a pleasure, not a pain. He could understand it, but he had yet to feel it.

"Was your sister a Gryffindor too?" he asked. Hermione gave him a quelling look, but Harry ignored her, watching the gentle smile spread across McKinnon's face.

"No, no she wasn't. She actually didn't go to Hogwarts at all. My father was teaching here at the time, and he and my mother decided to leave it up to us girls whether to attend Hogwarts or Beauxbatons because of that. She was older than me, and she chose to attend Beauxbatons. She didn't want to have to deal with having her father as a teacher. When I turned eleven, though, I wasn't ready to go so far away, and I was actually pretty glad to have my father so close even at school." Her smile reshaped itself, reforming lines of neutrality and professional distance. But Harry couldn't suppress the feeling that perhaps that little question, and the even smaller sharing of information and memories, had helped her. He wished for that sort of peace and acceptance with a longing tinged with a guilt for its very existence, and he watched McKinnon nibbling her cake with contemplative eyes.

"Thank you," he said after a silence. "I really appreciate your help."

"Anytime." She rose, beginning to clear away some of the dishes for Dobby to collect. "I'm only sorry I couldn't help you more." She paused to pat Hedwig and then Pig, and to smooth the elegant fall of Fawkes' tail over Harry's arm. "Come on you silly old phoenix. Let's let Harry get to his classes with his friends."

As Harry gently shifted the somnolent phoenix onto McKinnon's waiting arm and rose, he felt like a cool breeze had blown through him. He felt revitalized, practically humming with that pulse he could still feel from Fawkes.

"Thanks to you, too," he said to the phoenix. "You're certainly some lap warmer."

"I'll let you know what I find out about the snakes," McKinnon said as she ushered them to the door. "If I don't have a chance to work on it before the holidays, I'll owl you."

They said their thanks and goodbyes, and trooped up towards the castle to return their pets to their rightful places. They were silent most of the way, until they reached the main doors. Hermione stopped, extending her arms to halt the boys as well.

"You really think that drawing is of Nagini?" she asked Harry.

"Honestly, I don't know. But when I first saw the book, I said her name in Parseltongue." He laughed mirthlessly. "Scared Padma half to death."

"Is she alright?" Hermione asked. "I don't mean to pry, but--."

"I'm not sure about that either. She said she was fine, and she did agree to go to the ball with me." He sighed and rubbed his temples. "Why is everything so complicated?"

"A question philosophers have been pondering since the dawn of time," Ron said somberly, then grinned as the other two gaped at him. "What?"

"And why were you two looking at me like that?" Harry asked, reminded suddenly.

Hermione laughed, her face lighting up as she beamed up at him. "You really weren't paying attention, were you? Harry, you put away two sandwiches, two helpings of salad, pasta, and dessert. I haven't seen you eat like that since fourth year."

"I did?" Harry's hand went automatically to his stomach, which, now that he was looking, did have a contented sort of weight to it. "I did." He grinned back at his delighted friends. "Guess I was hungry, huh?"

"No surprise. You've been eating like a bird for months," Ron said, linking arms with him and tugging at the main doors. "So you're feeling better?"

"Maybe," Harry said, caught by Ron's wording. Personally, he suspected his sudden ability to eat and keep down a full meal had more to do with Fawkes presence than anything else, but if his friends wanted to be reassured, he wouldn't begrudge them that.

"More Dementor research tonight?" Ron asked as they headed for Gryffindor tower.

"Add Inficius Snakes to that, and yes," Hermione agreed. "This business with Nagini, if it really is her, this could be a big deal."

"And it's not like we'll be getting anywhere with the Dementors anyway," Harry agreed. "It seemed pretty much hopeless last night."

Hermione didn't say anything, but Harry knew she had been just as disappointed by the sheer void of information as he and Ron were. She was probably delighted to have a new project. Harry himself couldn't say he was particularly pleased about the whole thing. He could feel that book jolting lightly against his lower back as his bag bounced on his shoulders, and he couldn't stop thinking about that thrice damned snake. He vacillated from absolutely positive it was Nagini to decrying his own gullibility. It was just another thing to add to the ever-growing list of things to do or ponder or discover. He wondered a little bitterly when he would ever get a rest.

But then he remembered the gentle quality to McKinnon's smile, the pleasure she'd taken in remembering her sister. He wanted that so badly sometimes, that quiet which wasn't just outside but inside too. And he supposed, as difficult as it was, that the only way to achieve that sort of quiet was through time and life. As they approached the Fat Lady, Ron and Hermione chatting idly about anything and everything, he wondered if maybe that very acknowledgement, that he had miles to go before he could rest, was part of the peace itself.