Harry Potter And The Fall Of Childhood

Chapter 21

Letting Go

"I love you, and because I love you, I would sooner have you hate me for

telling you the truth than adore me for telling you lies." - Pietro

Aretino

***

The remainder of January and all of February slipped away with startling ease. As he whiled away his detention hours polishing armor, and later shoveling away the snowdrifts deposited by winter's last stand in the face of the approaching spring, Harry mused rather cynically about how normal things could seem when they were anything but. The days were growing longer, the sun a more frequent presence than it had been all through the holidays. Inside the castle, the professors continued to increase the workloads, particularly for the fifth and seventh years. Outside, the snow slowly disappeared, leaving behind dark, hard-packed earth. It seemed almost unbelievable that it hid away all the secret bounty of spring and summer, patiently awaiting the return of the sun. Life stirred slowly, tentatively at first, just a tiny green shoot here and there. But then the force of growing things gained momentum, ponderous at first, then picking up more and more speed until the lawns and paths of the grounds exploded with fresh blooms.

The thick layer of ice over the lake slowly diminished until, on the first day of March, (making it a record-breakingly early occurrence), the groans and muted snaps they'd all been hearing for over a week erupted as the ice cracked open, and the dark water gushed between the rapidly shrinking chunks like discolored blood. The enormous roar of it could be heard all over the castle, and the entire school abandoned breakfast to pile out on the lawn and watch. Some of the Mer people emerged, batting aside rapidly melting chunks of ice and briefly lifting their odd, disturbing faces to the sun they had not seen for many months. It was here, protected by the anonymity of being in a very large crowd, that Hermione approached Harry about Viktor Krum for the first time in over a month.

"Hogsmeade next weekend," she said, appearing suddenly at his side and touching his arm. Harry jumped, having himself been absorbed in the spectacle of flashing fins and the grand, oddly satisfying sounds of blocks of ice colliding and shattering. He blinked a moment at her, confused by her abrupt approach. She had been oddly restrained with him throughout the entire month, not cold or rude, but not particularly friendly either. She'd sat with him and Ron as usual, clucking her tongue at their homework and telling them with unmistakable glee about the seventy equations she had to work for Arithmancy by Friday. On the surface the trio was back, same as ever. Hermione and Harry were both easy enough with Ron, who himself seemed mighty glad to have things back as they had been. But on the few occasions Harry had tried to speak with Hermione without Ron around, even on mundane subjects, she'd found something vitally important she had to run off and do, or simply pretended not to have noticed him. Harry didn't know whether she was uncomfortable about their clandestine nighttime meeting, nervous about Viktor, or still angry about the Celestina thing.

"Hogsmeade?" he asked, edging his way back through the crowd until they could have a bit of space to talk more easily.

"This Saturday," she affirmed, nodding. "Viktor will meet us there. Well, he thinks he's meeting me, but..."

"Oh," Harry said, taken aback. "I, er, you wanted me to go with you, then?"

"If it's not too much trouble," Hermione said, a bit sharply.

"No, of course not," Harry said hastily. "But how are we going to, that is--" he waved a hand towards the unmistakable flare of Ron's hair visible towards the front of the crowd.

Hermione glanced briefly over, then away. "Simple," she said. "You pretend not to be going that day. Say you don't feel so great or you want to fly or something. Then come under your cloak. Viktor and I will meet in town, and I'll take him up to that cave where Sirius stayed. You can follow us and we'll see from there. I can get Ron to leave Viktor and me alone."

"Okay," Harry said, nodding. It made sense, and he was relieved at least one of them had done some constructive planning.

"Right then," Hermione said, nodding decisively. "We're meeting in front of the Three Broomsticks at ten o'clock. We'll probably go in for a drink first and then I'll bring him up."

"Okay," Harry said again, wondering if she would look at him directly even once during the entire conversation.

Hermione paused, nodded once more, and strode away without another word. Harry gazed after her, dumbfounded and hurt. She couldn't really be that angry about him sneaking out to see Celestina, could she?

At the thought of Celestina, Harry's hand stole unconsciously to his cloak pocket. He'd received a letter from her just that morning. He hoped it would reaffirm her plans to return around the middle of the month. Though her absence hadn't been nearly as painful as Harry had feared the night they had parted, he was still overwhelmingly eager to see her again. He mostly went about his days as usual, at least after the giggles and glares from the girls, and the knowing looks from the boys stopped a few weeks after the Prophet article had made their relationship suddenly public knowledge. But then there were times--as he slaved over a letter to her behind his curtains at night, or when her replies came from an exhausted Hedwig, written in that carelessly large handwriting and, Harry fancied, still smelling of her hair--then he missed her with a clenching, aching gnaw that made him uncomfortable in his own skin. But then Neville would let out a particularly loud snore, or breakfast would end and they'd have to trudge off to class, and the feeling would slowly subside, temporarily leaving Harry in peace to go about his business, only to return again that night, or the next morning.

Harry was almost glad to hear of Viktor's impending arrival for, if previous events in the year were any indication, one thing would again lead to another. Things happened fast, Harry knew, once they started happening, and at this point he was ready for almost anything that would end the frightening sort of limbo he was currently trapped in.

***

Harry tried very hard to pant without making a sound. His lungs were burning and sweat was trickling maddeningly down the back of his neck, but he dared not stop to wipe it away. Hermione and Krum already had quite a lead on him, and he didn't dare lose sight of Hermione when she was in Krum's company, particularly on the deserted path up to the mountainside cave. They were chatting companionably enough, and Krum hadn't made any sort of menacing gestures, but Harry wasn't about to trust him.

Everybody had been talking about the unseasonably early and hot Spring, and Harry could really believe it. The sun was hot on his back, and he was melting beneath the stifling invisibility cloak. Hermione and Krum had both removed their cloaks, and Hermione had rolled up her sleeves. Krum, Harry noted grimly, had not.

"Here we are," Hermione said as she and Krum turned the last corner. Harry picked up his pace, wincing as a small shower of pebbles went skittering down the path in his wake. Krum had already frowned oddly over his shoulder once in response to the sound of shifting stones, and Harry feared the steep mountain path strewn with everything from oversized grains of sand to boulders would give him away.

"Interesting place," the Bulgarian was saying as Harry rounded the last corner and skidded to a halt so as not to run smack into Hermione. The two of them were standing just outside the small crevice that opened out into the cave Sirius had stayed in. It bothered Harry, now that they had arrived, that Krum knew where this place was. He'd gotten the feeling that Dumbledore, and not many others, knew of its existence. But there was nothing he could do about it now, and Harry shifted to press himself against the mountainside to Hermione's left so he could keep an eye on Krum's every move.

"Just a little cave," Hermione said dismissively. "Nothing really."

"Vell then, vy did you bring me up here?" Krum asked, though there was no puzzlement in his face. Harry was concerned by this for a moment, thinking Krum knew he was found out and had anticipated them, but he realized as Krum laid a hand on Hermione's shoulder that the Bulgarian's mind was not on intrigue.

Harry ground his teeth and clutched his wand (which he had drawn the moment he had spotted the two of them in front of the Three Broomsticks). He was tempted to reveal himself right then and have done with it, for the sight of Krum's short, stubby fingers running up Hermione's arm and sliding around to the back of her neck made his blood boil.

But Hermione was not one to be discounted, and, before Harry had made up his mind to do anything, she had caught Krum's wrist and gently but firmly removed his hand.

"Not here," she said, nodding up at the sky. "It's hot. Let's go inside the cave."

Harry frowned at that, but it made a sort of sense. The narrow defile that led to the crevice entrance was not a place Harry would like to duel in, if things came to that. Curses would bounce off the rock walls and ricochet like mad, and it would be as dangerous to defend himself as to stand and wait to be cursed. He followed the pair into the cave, smiling in relief as Hermione withdrew her wand. She only lit it, but Harry felt better seeing it in her hand. He moved in close behind her and placed a light hand on her shoulder, both to reassure her that he was there and to offer a quick, silent pep talk. She was strung taught beneath his touch, her seemingly casual hold on her wand actually a quivering death grip. She gave the slightest of starts at Harry's touch, then relaxed just a bit. Harry gave her a quick squeeze, then stepped back. He took up a position slightly behind her and to the side where he could easily observe both of them, and step between them if he needed to.

"I wanted to talk to you," Hermione said before Krum could try to touch her again.

Krum frowned in concern and took a step forward. "Vat is it?" he asked. "Ven a girl says that, it is never good news."

"I suppose not," Hermione said, fiddling with her wand.

"Hermione," Krum said, working his way through her name with dogged determination and coming out the other side mostly triumphant, "I know it has been difficult. Ve are a continent apart, and owls are only letters, after all. But I had such a vonderful time over the holidays. Your parents are such nice people, and attending the ball vith you again vas a joy. I vouldn't vant you to make any hasty decisions. Please, just think--"

"I have," Hermione said, cutting him off. "Quite a lot, actually. And about Christmas as a matter of fact."

"And?" he asked, obviously worried.

"Why did you put a memory charm on me?" Hermione asked, staring directly up at him.

Krum started and took a quick step backwards. "A vat?" he asked, and Harry noted his accent had thickened as his face had paled.

"You heard me," Hermione said, not giving an inch. "A memory charm. That you put on me after Christmas. And probably before that too, if my guess is right. I want to know why."

The Bulgarian opened his mouth, then closed it. Harry kept a close eye both on his face and his hands. He was relieved to see Krum not making any move for his wand, wherever he had it tucked away.

"I didn't," He said finally, not looking at Hermione.

"You did," Hermione said, and Harry was both impressed and a little frightened by her implacable face and voice. "I know you did. I remember you doing it. I would like to know why."

Krum sighed and slumped a little. Harry got the impression he hadn't really expected to be able to deny it, but he had tried anyway.

"How did you remember?" he asked after a moment.

"That's not important," Hermione said. "Just tell me, and do it quickly."

Krum's eyes flickered to Hermione's wand, which, though it wasn't actually pointed at him, was still weaving an unconscious pattern of light in the air in his general direction.

"Alright," he said hastily, holding very still. "I vill tell you. And I hope ven I am done you vill understand, you vill forgive me."

"Well, I don't know," Hermione said a bit caustically. "You erased my memory. You took something away from me. And you probably did it more than once, didn't you?"

"No. Only vonce."

Hermione frowned. "Just once?" she asked again.

Krum nodded eagerly. "Just vonce," he affirmed. "After Christmas."

"And what did you erase then?" Hermione continued, still frowning.

"Your dreams," he said. "You told me about them at your parents' house. I vould have done it then, but I vas afraid you'd mentioned the dreams to your parents and they'd ask about them later. If you had forgotten, it could have been a disaster." He shrugged his oddly rounded shoulders. "I had to vait until ve returned to Hogvarts."

Hermione studied him for a long moment, and Harry could see her come to the conclusion that the Bulgarian was telling the truth. Harry tended to agree, but that didn't make any sense. Hermione had said dreams weren't a symptom of a previous memory charm, but Harry couldn't think of any other reason to go to the trouble and danger of erasing something so seemingly trivial.

"Why don't you just tell me everything," Hermione said. "From the very beginning. Why did you erase my dreams? Did someone tell you to do it? Who?" She hesitated in the rapid fire questioning then added more quietly, "Did someone make you? Do you think you were put under Imperius?" There was another pause as Krum stood unmoving. "Does this have anything to do with the fact that I'm Harry's best friend?"

In his concealment, Harry winced. He'd thought that himself, of course, had practically held it as truth, in fact. The idea had hurt him deeply, in the way watching Ron sacrifice himself in the giant chess match in their first year to let him and Hermione get through had hurt. But hearing her say it out loud, her voice a little hushed, a little afraid, twisted the knife of guilt just a little bit more. Harry wondered bitterly where his convictions about not getting anyone else involved in the danger and conflict he knew was to come had gotten to.

"You think I'm vone of them," Krum said, suddenly emerging from his silence. He sounded almost hurt. "After everything I've told you about me, about Durmstrang and vat people expect from us and how I feel about that, you still think I'm vone of them. A Death Eater."

"What do you expect me to think?" Hermione asked, and for the first time her composure visibly wavered. "What you did, it's not just illegal, it's wrong. I trusted you."

"It vasn't wrong," Viktor said, his chin coming up and his hunched shoulders straightening. "And I'll show you. I'm not one of them." He reached for his left sleeve, and both Harry and Hermione tensed. But his hand didn't come back brandishing a wand. Instead he rolled the dark blue sleeve back and turned his arm out towards Hermione and the unseen Harry. The slightly weather-roughened flesh was unmarred.

"How do you know about the mark?" Hermione demanded. "That's not common knowledge."

"I saw it," Krum said. "On Headmaster Karkaroff at the end of last year. He came to me before he left, tried to varn me, tell me something vas coming." He let out a breath. "He vas very afraid."

"Hmm," Hermione said noncommittally. She gazed at the bare arm a moment, then made a slight gesture with her wand. Silently, Krum bared his other arm, which was similarly unmarked.

"I'm not vone of them," he said, his voice laced with contempt for the very idea. "And vat I did vasn't wrong. It vas very right. You asked if it has anything to do with Harry Potter? It could save his life, vat I did."

Harry frowned in confusion, and he could see a similar expression on Hermione's face. Krum seemed to genuinely believe what he was saying, and though he was gazing almost pleadingly at Hermione, asking some sort of understanding and forgiveness, Harry could also see the pride in his stance and hear it in his voice as he spoke.

"I don't understand," Hermione said, never taking her eyes off the Bulgarian. "How could erasing my dreams save Harry's life? You're really going to have to tell me everything if you want me to believe anything."

Krum sighed and seemed to deflate again. His sleeves remained rolled up and he crossed his bare arms over his chest, staring down at them with seeming fascination.

"Alright," he said after a pause. "I'll tell you vat you vant to know." He lifted a hand and scrubbed at his face, then turned away from them. One hand came up and ran through his short-cropped hair, and Harry heard him sigh again. Hermione took a half step towards him, almost as if she wanted to offer comfort for the distress he was obviously in.

But then Krum was moving, and for the first time Harry saw some of the grace and lightning speed that made him a world-class Seeker exercised on the ground. He had spun around and thrust his wand into Hermione's face before she could even form a curse. His other hand snatched her wand away in a move that a tiny part of Harry's brain categorized as a very neatly executed three-fingered Snitch catch.

Harry's own wand was moving even as his brain caught up to what he was seeing, but he lost precious seconds because, in moving forward, Hermione had placed herself between Harry and Krum. As he sprung forward, no longer caring about stealth, he heard Hermione's gasp and small, startled cry. He tried to throw off the cloak so he could use his wand freely, but it had tangled about his head and shoulders and seemed only to tighten as he struggled.

"I'm sorry," he heard Krum say, very softly. "You von't remember, but I really am. Obliv--"

"Expelliarmus!" Harry cried, finally untangling himself and thrusting his wand between Hermione and Krum. The force of the spell propelled them away from each other. Krum sailed halfway across the cave and skidded a meter or two upon landing. Harry extended an arm and winced as Hermione crashed into it, nearly knocking them both over. With his other hand he caught both Viktor and Hermione's wands as they sailed towards him.

"Here," he said, shoving Hermione's wand at her.

"Is he alright?" she asked, straightening up and staring over at Krum, who lay unmoving several meters away.

"Are you?" Harry asked, shooting Krum a disgusted look.

"Yes," she said reassuringly. "Just shook up a bit."

"He tried to do it again," Harry seethed, releasing Hermione and taking a step towards Krum.

"Wait." Hermione caught his arm as Krum began to stir. He groaned, rolled over clutching his side, and sat up. Both Harry and Hermione leveled their wands at him, and Harry added the Bulgarian's own in his other hand for good measure.

"Stand up," he said. The harshness of his own voice surprised him, and Krum obeyed without protest.

"Harry," he said, obviously surprised. "How--oh." His eyes had found the shining puddle of the invisibility cloak. "I should have known. Hermione's too smart to come out to a deserted place alone with me."

"Damn right," Harry said. "Now then, let's try this again. Why don't you tell us just what you think you're doing, putting memory charms on Hermione? Who are you working for? Just because you don't have the Mark doesn't mean you're not working for Voldemort. What's this about saving my life?"

Krum grimaced. "There's not much I can tell you," he said.

"Well, you'll excuse me if I don't believe that," Harry snapped. "You were just about to erase Hermione's memory of being charmed. You've obviously got something to hide."

"Vell, I can't tell you," Viktor said again. "Because I don't know."

"You don't know why you erased my memory?" Hermione demanded, sounding outraged.

"There's an old Bulgarian saying," Krum said, gazing levelly at Hermione. "Roughly translated it says 'Give others only what you have been given yourself. It is only this way you can be a just man.'"

Harry scowled at the seeming evasion, but beside him, Hermione inhaled sharply.

"You've been charmed too," she said. "Your memory's been altered, and you know it."

Krum nodded. "I know I had to do vat I did," he said. "I knew I had to vatch for signs, and if I found them, make you forget them. I know it's important, life or death." He paused and met each of their eyes. "I know what I did vas right."

Harry eyed him suspiciously. He looked like he was telling the truth, but at the moment that didn't mean much to Harry. "And what else?" he asked. "Do you remember who told you this?"

"Someone in the summer," Krum said, his eyes unfocusing as he cast his mind backwards. "Someone who came to me after I returned home from Hogvarts. Someone I trust. Someone who is doing good, who is villing to act ven others von't."

"That's great," Harry said sarcastically. "Any chance you could tell us who this so righteous person is?"

Krum shrugged, his gaze returning to Harry. "I can't remember."

"And you just, you trust this?" Hermione exploded, speaking for the first time in several minutes. "You just trust this knowledge without knowing where you got it, knowing there are things you don't remember. You were willing to do something so, so invasive and violating to me because you know it's right? I trusted you! I listened to all your talk of proving that Durmstrang doesn't turn out all dark wizards, how you felt after the third task and being used by evil. I listened and I believed you. And now you...you can't just go around committing a crime when you think you're in the right. That's not right, that's the sort of thing that makes both sides of a war equally despicable. You were what, going to put the spell on me and spend the afternoon snogging with me? Then go on as if nothing had happened?"

"I care about you," Krum said, flushing at her accusations.

"Do you?" Hermione asked. Harry heard a small quaver in her voice. "Do you really? Or was I just convenient? Did you have this in mind from the very beginning?"

"No!" the Bulgarian exclaimed, taking a step forward. He stopped at Harry's glare. "I met you first before I met..." he trailed off, his brow creasing as if he were reaching for a thought that would not come.

"Well, that's great," Hermione said, and her voice was definitely shaking now. Glancing briefly at her, Harry saw that she was near tears. "You care about me, that's great. So you were just going to keep erasing my memory for however long it takes to do whatever it is you or your mysterious friend has planned. How many people have you done this to?"

"Just you," Krum said, then winced, realizing how that sounded. "I mean I didn't really vant...you and I vere doing so vell together--"

"What would you have done," Hermione cut in, her words exploding out of her with great force, "if I had brought you up here today to break it off with you? Would you have erased that from my memory too?" Harry watched her as she raged, pained by the misery he saw in her. He wondered if she had been saving all this up, the betrayal and anger, the deep sense of violation, for the past month, ever since he'd restored her memory. He was almost glad she hadn't spoken to him much since then--he didn't know how to deal with a Hermione so distraught.

"I never," Krum started, seeming physically pained by Hermione's outburst. "Hermione I...you are very dear to me. I vould never hurt you."

"Too late," Hermione said, and laughed a little bitterly. "You can't magic a relationship into working, and don't tell me you wouldn't have. I know you, Viktor. I saw that look on your face. You would have done it."

"I need to be near you," he said, gesturing a bit wildly. "It's important. For you, for Harry." He paused and glanced away. "And for me, too. Don't think this vas easy for me, putting a charm on you. I didn't vant to do it, violate your trust. But it vas the right thing to do."

"You can't magic feelings like that," Hermione said, quieter now. "Harry, I think we should go."

"But," Harry protested, waving his wand in surprise, "we don't know anything. He hasn't told us anything of use. We don't even know if the dreams were all he erased."

"They vere," Krum said.

"And we don't know why he did it and we don't know if he's telling the truth about being charmed himself, and we don't know if he's done anything else."

"And we're not going to find out." Hermione looked suddenly drained, almost reduced. Her shoulders slumped and she didn't look at Krum. "I believe him about the charm, it makes sense." She laughed hollowly. "I'd like to think that maybe I know just a little about him, even after everything."

Harry scowled, but he couldn't think of anything to say in reply. After all, he, too, was inclined to believe Krum's claims. It was partly instinct, partly based on his admittedly small store of knowledge about the Bulgarian. He remembered Hermione's impassioned defense of him their first day back at school that September, remembered her saying how the Bulgarian felt about the third task.

"Crouch put you under the Imperius curse," he said, turning away from Hermione and staring at Krum again. "He did it because he believed that it was the right thing to do, to obey his master. He was proud of himself. You put a memory charm on Hermione because you believe it was the right thing to do." He paused, struggling for the words to articulate something both Sirius and Dumbledore had tried to explain when they'd talked about Crouch Sr. and his brief reign of power in the ministry after Voldemort's fall. "You can't fight violence with violence," he said finally, grateful to Sirius for lending the right words. "The Muggles say that two wrongs don't make a right. I say what you did was sick and twisted and," he paused for emphasis, "unforgivable. I say even if you think you're saving my life, and I don't believe that for one second, it makes no sense, you had no right to do that to Hermione." He paused again and regarded Viktor's scowling, almost defiant face. He was reminded suddenly of Cornelius Fudge, of the almost desperate way he had denied the return of Voldemort. "I think you know it, too," he said, suddenly inspired. "You know how wrong it was, or else you wouldn't be working so hard to convince us it was right."

Krum was very still, only his eyes moving as they darted away from Harry. He continued to watch the Bulgarian until Hermione shifted beside him.

"Let's go," she said again, touching Harry's arm.

"You just want to leave him?" Harry asked, frowning.

Hermione sighed. "There's nothing else to do," she said. "We've already talked about the Ministry."

"We could take him to Dumbledore," Harry protested.

"And he could do what? He can't restore Viktor's memory, we don't know enough about what he's forgotten."

"You just want to...let him go?" Harry asked. The idea didn't sit well with him.

Hermione met his eyes firmly. "I want to let him go," she said.

Harry paused, then nodded. He understood the difference in meaning.

"It's up to you," he said. He turned back to Viktor. "We're going to leave now. You stay up here for at least half an hour, give us time to get down the mountain." He gently disengaged Hermione's hold on his arm and took a step forward. "And don't ever come near Hermione again, or Dumbledore and the Ministry will be the least of your worries."

He didn't wait for an acknowledgement, but simply scooped up his invisibility cloak and backed towards the entrance of the cave, pressing Hermione behind him. He kept his eyes on Krum the whole time, though the Bulgarian didn't even twitch.

"Harry," he said suddenly, just as Harry was about to step out into the sunlight again.

He paused, and behind him Hermione turned back to hear.

"What?"

Krum shifted awkwardly, obviously conflicted. "It's not just Hermione," he said abruptly, all in a rush as if to get whatever it was out quickly.

"Not just Hermione what?" Harry asked, a cold feeling building inside.

"You," Krum said, staring fixedly at the cave wall. "Ve gave you a potion. Vat you said, about magicking feelings. It vas wrong, I know, but ve vere told to do it."

"What are you talking about?" Harry demanded, his heart lurching. Somewhere, in a deep, desperate place, he knew what Krum was about to say, had known it for a long time.

"Celestina Varbeck," Viktor said. "I put a potion in your drink. It's a sort of love potion, but not. More like obsession in a glass."

Harry shuddered, remembering the fleeting, easily dismissed thought he'd had so many weeks before in Hogsmeade.

"Addicted," he whispered, his gut churning.

"Harry." Hermione put a hand on his back and edged up beside him in the narrow cave entrance. Peripherally, Harry was aware that only now did she show the unvarnished anger he himself had been feeling. Throughout the entire encounter he had felt that she wasn't entirely unsympathetic to Krum, that no matter how hurt or betrayed she was, she still remembered talking with him in the library, spending Christmas with him and her family. But now that Harry was directly involved, her fury was unchecked.

"What potion was it?" she asked, her look unforgiving. "And how do we counter it?"

"It's very obscure," Krum said. "I don't know how to counter it. I don't know if you can." He held up his hand as Hermione started to advance. "Ask Snape," he said hastily. "If vat I've heard about Snape is true...he just might have seen the recipe. Tell him it vas one of Reynard's potions, one of the secret lot he did that vere never published. Tell him it had Celestina's hair in it."

"That's all you know?" Hermione asked.

Krum frowned. "I didn't make it. I saw her put her hair in. But it did smell familiar. Like vormvood."

"That's not much to go on," Hermione said, sounding remarkably menacing. She eyed him for a long moment, then apparently decided she wasn't going to get any more information on that subject. "How do you know Celestina? How is she involved?"

"She vrote to me," Krum explained. He was speaking flatly now, no emotion in the monotone. "I'd never met her before the ball, but I vas told by...somebody that she vould help me. She slipped me a vial when ve first sat down together, and I vas to put it in his drink. I don't know if she knows anything more than I do."

Harry watched almost detachedly as they spoke. His mind was a whirling mess of frantic denial and the quiet, desolate surety that it was true. He knew Krum wasn't lying, realized that he had silently, unbeknownst even to himself, suspected this all along. So many things--the way he seemed to drown in her presence, the too quick way she had insinuated herself into his life, his uncharacteristic dismissal of the Prophet article, the sheer monumental force of will it had taken to stop their snogging session--it all made sense now. A sense which he had ignored for three months. And the worst of it was, Harry realized, that knowledge was not freedom. Even as he thought of Celestina, a deep, inconsolable ache kindled inside him at the memory of her. His skin seemed to shrink on his bones, his temperature fluctuated wildly, and his entire being pounded with the need to see her again, touch her again.

It made him sick.

"You know an awful lot about this," Hermione was saying suspiciously, "for someone whose memory has been erased."

"Celestina told me," Krum said. "In her note, she mentioned Reynard."

"And why did you do it, do you know?" Hermione asked, her voice dripping with disdain.

Krum shrugged again. "Vas supposed to," he said. He had the grace to look ashamed. "It vas important that he get involved with her, that they be seen together in public."

"Well, that part worked," Hermione muttered. Harry had to smile a little, even then. It seemed that yes, she could still be angry about that.

"Anything else you want to share?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know anything else," Krum said, lifting his hands as if to show their emptiness.

"Well," Hermione said, "do let us know if your memory improves."

"I vill," Krum said, and Harry thought he just might mean it. "And I'm sorry," the Bulgarian added, gazing at both of them. "I hope you can forgive me."

Hermione made a small, dismissive noise, but Harry's mind was elsewhere. He was suddenly replaying the past few minutes, absorbing the conversation for the first time.

"Reynard," he said suddenly. "You said Reynard invented the potion."

"Yes," Krum said. "Celestina said so."

"Well, did she happen to mention that Reynard was a Death Eater?" Harry asked. It gave him little satisfaction to see the shocked dismay cross Krum's face. Beside him, Hermione went rigid.

"No," Krum said quietly. "She said he made potions that vere never made public. Ve learned about him at Durmstrang, how brilliant he vas. But no one ever said he vas...I thought...I didn't think...but I never...I still believe, just because he vas a Death Eater - he's dead, yes? - that doesn't mean I'm helping--"

"Do you know anything about the Reynard Manifestation?" Harry asked, cutting him off. He had no desire to hear the Bulgarian's frightened, worried protestations.

"No," Krum said without hesitating. "I've never heard of it. And I really didn't know--"

"Do you know who did make the potion?"

"No."

"It wasn't Celestina?"

"I don't think so. I don't think she has the skill."

"Probably not," Harry agreed. "And you really don't know why it's important that Hermione forget those weird dreams?"

"No. I svear."

"Yeah, well, you'll forgive me if your word doesn't mean all that much right now," Hermione said. "Let's go, Harry. You wait for at least half an hour before you leave, you understand? We'll leave your wand on the top rail of the stile we climbed over on the lane from Hogsmeade."

Krum nodded, seeming to withdraw into himself in the face of Hermione's anger. Harry had little sympathy for him.

"Write us if you remember anything," Hermione said. It was not a request. "Or if you're contacted by your mysterious friend again."

"Okay," Krum agreed. "I vill. Hermione, I--"

"Let's go," Hermione said again, tugging at Harry's arm.

They backed out of the cave together, and Harry flung the invisibility cloak over them both. It was not much protection in the narrow defile leading up to the cave, but it made Harry feel much less exposed on the mountainside with Krum somewhere above them.

"Well," Hermione said after they had reached flat ground again and were making their way back towards Hogsmeade.

"Yeah," Harry said.

"We need to go to Dumbledore now," she said. "Talk to Snape. Get that potion reversed."

"Yeah."

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you alright?"

He paused, considering. "No."

"Me neither," she said, heaving a deep sigh.

***

"Now then," Dumbledore said, setting Hermione's teacup before her. "What can I do for you two?"

"We need to tell you some things," Harry said, gazing Trelawney-like into his teacup.

Dumbledore nodded, taking his seat behind his desk. "You can, of course, speak freely with me," he said reassuringly. "Did you have lunch in Hogsmeade? It will be served downstairs in just half an hour."

"No, that's alright," Harry said. He didn't think he could manage anything more than tea, and Hermione did not contradict him.

"Well then," Dumbledore said. He paused a moment, glancing from one to the other. When neither of them took him up on the segue, he sat back and spoke again. "You two have returned rather early from Hogsmeade today. Was that just in order to speak to me?"

"Yes," Harry said. He glanced briefly at Hermione, but she was making a great study out of selecting a crumpet. She would be no help now, Harry could tell. He hesitated for a moment longer, then plunged right in. "Viktor Krum," he said, deciding that the end was a good place to start. "He put a memory charm on Hermione and he gave me a sort of love potion."

Dumbledore's teacup landed in his saucer with a rattle. The Headmaster sat still for a moment, both hands planted on his desk, concern chasing startlement across his face, to be replaced with a sad sort of resignation.

"Tell me everything," he said quietly.

Harry did, interrupted here and there by Hermione, who could better describe her own dreams and could answer some of Dumbledore's questions about Viktor's history and behavior.

"I see," Dumbledore said after they had finished. "I see."

"Well I don't," Hermione said, sounding much more herself. Harry smiled a little. It seemed someone else had discovered the odd but profound comfort that was to be found in sharing troubles with Albus Dumbledore. "Why did he erase my dreams?" Hermione continued. "Could he really be trying to save Harry's life? Should we have brought him back here? Could you have broken the memory charms?"

Dumbledore lifted a hand, forestalling the flood. "A moment, Miss Granger," he said, taking a sip of tea. "There is much here to ponder. Harry, did you believe Mr. Krum? Did you ever detect a lie in him?"

"No," Harry said almost reluctantly. It was true--he hadn't once gotten the impression that Viktor was trying to fool them. The revelation of the potion seemed to support that; Krum had had no discernible reason to tell them except a pained conscience. Harry was cynical enough, however, to note that the ostensible purpose of the potion, having him and Celestina publicly paired, was already accomplished.

"I see," Dumbledore said again. "In that case, and I trust your judgment in this matter, Harry, you have already done all you could. If you had escorted Mr. Krum back here, I could only have spoken with him. Breaking a memory charm, if you do not know exactly what has been erased, is an immensely dangerous undertaking. It could result in anything from a mild headache to insanity, even death."

Hermione shuddered. "What about the Ministry?" she asked. "I mean, I figured there was really nothing we could do, but..."

"Quite right," Dumbledore said. "Even discounting the current attitude of many Ministry members towards myself, this school, and Mr. Potter, there is little or nothing they can legally do. A grave fault, and one I have long urged correction of, of the International Confederation of Wizards."

"And the rest?" Hermione asked, apparently deciding not to pursue the matter of punishment any further. "Do you know why he would have erased my dreams?"

"I do not," Dumbledore said, rising. "I can, however, attempt to discover some things. If you would stand up please, Miss Granger, I can attempt to discover if any other memory charms, or perhaps another unwanted spell, has been placed on you."

Hermione rose, folding her hands before her and watching almost nervously as Dumbledore withdrew his wand.

"Now then, you understand what I'm going to do, I imagine."

Hermione nodded, looking as eager as she did whenever Flitwick demonstrated a new charm they would be learning.

"Well then, this won't hurt a bit," Dumbledore said, lifting his wand. "Vestigium Encantidum!" An oddly colored streak of light burst from the tip of his wand and expanded as it rushed towards Hermione. By the time it reached her, it was large enough to circle her entire body in a too bright glow, colors shifting and swirling dizzyingly within it. That lasted only a moment, for then the shell of light seemed to fragment, splitting first in half, then the halves in half and again and again, the pieces overlapping each other and sliding about Hermione as they were formed. When the light show finally settled down, Hermione stood limbed in countless patches of multi-colored light, all different shapes and sizes, many overlapping or stacked on top of each other, their colors blending and shifting together.

"Wow," Harry said, one hand unconsciously reaching out to try and touch the light. The moment his fingers penetrated the first layer, he snatched them back, gazing in surprise at them.

"Rather amazing, isn't it?" Dumbledore asked, smiling warmly at him. "Go on, it's alright to touch."

Harry tried again, this time allowing his fingers to sink all the way through the thick mass of color and light until the tips rested on Hermione's shoulder. It was one of the strangest things he had ever experienced, and living in the wizarding world as he did, that was saying something. It was almost as if his fingers could hear, and each individual fragment of light was singing a different song. The sensation was clamorous, almost overwhelming, and Harry could not stand it for very long.

"What is that?" he asked, slightly awed.

"It's like Priori Incantatem," Hermione said, her voice emerging almost eerily from the multi-colored sphere that was her head. "Except it works on people. It's showing all the spells performed on me in reverse order."

"Quite right," Dumbledore nodded. "Though unfortunately, it is not entirely inclusive. The Imperius Curse, for example, will not be revealed by this spell." He sighed heavily. "It is an unfortunate thing that there is no way to prove that a person has been affected by Imperius. If we could do that, I suspect quite a few prominent citizens who claimed such affliction fourteen years ago would find themselves in some amount of trouble."

"But it'll show most other spells?" Harry asked, still staring at the spectacular display around Hermione. "And how can you tell what they are?"

"Most spells and charms, yes," Dumbledore agreed. "A memory charm, certainly. There are ways of concealing a spell from a later revealing such as this, but I am sure such methods are well beyond the means of young Mr. Krum. As for how I can tell, I am very old, Harry, and I have lived with magic all my life. There will come a time for you, as well, when each and every spell acquires its own particular flavor, a signature if you will. Given sufficient time and study, you will be able to identify them as well, even spells you have never encountered before. Now then." He lifted his wand again and approached Hermione. He flicked just the tip of his wand into the light, hooking it beneath the edge of a pale blue circle hovering around Hermione's chin, lifting it away from her like a fisherman spearing a fish. "Ah," he said, studying the quivering circle suspended from the tip of his wand. "I do believe somebody did not duck quite quickly enough in Defense yesterday, hmm? A bit of a chattering charm." Hermione smiled, and Harry chuckled. It had been quite funny, really, seeing Hermione trying furiously to speak and revoke the charm as her teeth clattered together.

Dumbledore continued on in the same manner, slowly peeling away spell after spell, identifying them, and flicking them away into thin air. He worked his way around Hermione, following some sort of pattern Harry could not discern. He was astounded by the sheer array of spells Hermione had been the subject of, and it was actually sort of fun trying to guess based on the color, shape, and location. The majority of the spells were perfectly ordinary, barring a few nastier surprises courtesy of Moody's dueling lessons. There was one tense moment as Dumbledore removed a vibrantly red polygon from Hermione's back and could not, for a long moment, identify it.

"Ah," he said finally, probing it gently with a finger. "Nothing to fear, simply a token of Misters Fred and George Weasleys' esteem. Tell me, Miss Granger, did you have some trouble with your tongue a while back?"

The memory restoring charm made an appearance a few minutes later, unwrapping itself from around Hermione's temples and down to the back of her head. It was a misty silver, and it sort of reminded Harry of the thoughts inside a Pensieve.

"Nicely done," Dumbledore approved, examining it. "You say Professor Snape taught you?"

"Yes, sir," Harry affirmed, wondering suddenly if Professor Snape could get in trouble for that. But Dumbledore simply nodded and moved on with no further comment.

The memory charm was easy enough to spot. Harry knew what it was the moment Dumbledore held it up. He had removed it from the back of Hermione's head, and it hung, an oddly opaque foggy curve, swaying gently in the air.

"Ah," Dumbledore said, studying it. "Not particularly powerful, but it would suffice." He examined it a moment further, then flicked it away. "I can recognize the caster now," he said, running his wand down Hermione's back, then up her arm as if searching for something. He moved more quickly then, dismissing spell after spell, though it barely seemed to make a dent in the multitude.

At last, after nearly an hour, he stepped back and surveyed Hermione. "Well then, Miss Granger," he said. "I have found nothing else untoward. Mr. Krum does not appear to have cast any other spell or charm on you, nor have I discovered anything worrying cast by anyone else. If I do not miss my guess, I have gone back roughly ten months. Would you like me to continue?"

Hermione paused, and Harry could just make out her chewing lightly on her lip in thought. "No," she said finally. "Viktor said he met me before any of whatever it is started, so I think ten months is fine. That would make it before the Third Task, and I think everything started after that, anyway." She hesitated and then shrugged. "If the dreams are related to some other spell, either it's not showing up or it was cast earlier, and that could be anytime. If they're not, well, then I have no idea what any of it means."

"I can continue, if it would make you feel any better," Dumbledore offered gently.

"No," Hermione said again. "That's fine. I don't think we're going to find anything out this way."

Dumbledore nodded and lifted his wand again, banishing all the remaining spells. Harry blinked a little, unaccustomed to a Hermione in black who wasn't almost dazzlingly bright.

"Now then," Dumbledore said, smiling kindly at Hermione. "There are just a few other things, Miss Granger. I will, of course, need to notify your parents of what has occurred. I would suggest you write them a letter yourself to accompany mine to reassure them. If they like, we can have their fireplace connected to the floo so you can speak to them face to face, as it were, and reassure them that way."

"Thank you, professor," Hermione said, nodding. "I think they'd like that. They liked Viktor, and this will be a shock for them."

"Not just them, I'm sure," Dumbledore said, accompanying the comment with one of his looks. Hermione bent her head in a slight nod. "Also," Dumbledore continued, "please keep me apprised of any new developments. If you notice anything, anything at all unusual in yourself or others, or if Mr. Krum attempts to contact you, come to me right away."

"Yes, sir," Hermione said, nodding and giving Harry a somewhat reproachful look.

"Is there anything else you wish to tell me?" Dumbledore asked.

Hermione hesitated, appearing on the verge of saying something. Then she shook her head, obviously dismissing whatever it was as unimportant. "No, sir. Nothing I can think of."

"Feel free to find me at any time," the Headmaster said. "Just ask Harry if you have trouble, he seems to have a knack for guessing my passwords. See me if you have anything to tell me, or if you simply have a hankering for a lemon drop."

"Thank you, sir," Hermione said, smiling in pleasure.

"Now then," Dumbledore said, finally returning to his seat behind the desk. "If there is nothing else, Miss Granger, would you kindly return to your dormitory, please? Mr. Potter and I have some things to discuss, and I'm sure you would welcome the quiet to pursue your studies while most of the school is still in Hogsmeade."

"Yes," Hermione agreed, reaching for her discarded cloak. "Thank you, Professor, for everything."

"Of course, Miss Granger."

Dumbledore's benign smile and kindly eyes followed Hermione as she left the room. She flicked Harry an encouraging look as she passed. The Headmaster sat still for a long moment after the door had shut behind her, then reached for a roll of parchment.

"I shall summon Professor Snape," he said, writing rapidly. "I'm sure you are eager to have this business disposed of."

"Yes," Harry said, with feeling.

Dumbledore dispatched his note with Fawkes, then returned to his desk. He steepled his fingers and rested his chin on them, regarding Harry with uncanny attention. "It is a painful thing," he said after a long, somewhat uncomfortable silence, "not to be trusted."

Harry winced, opening his mouth to reply. What he was going to say, he didn't know, but Dumbledore forestalled him.

"It is an even greater blow," he continued, "when one finds that he cannot trust his own mind, his own heart." He paused then, but Harry could only nod. "You should have come to me about Miss Granger," he said finally. Harry almost flinched. The Headmaster had never reprimanded him before, and the mild, almost gentle way in which it was done made it worse. "You endangered both her and yourself by not doing so," the Headmaster continued.

"I know," Harry said, unable to look away.

"I would like to know why, please."

"I don't...I really don't know, sir," Harry said, feeling the heat creep up his neck. He felt utterly miserable in that moment, even more so because now, when it really counted, he still couldn't explain his reasoning. There was the Dementor attack, of course, and Harry could still recall the shock of that seeming betrayal, but he didn't think that had been a major part of his decision not to involve the Headmaster. "I just didn't," he continued a bit lamely. "I wanted to take care of it myself and I just thought...I just felt..."

"You don't really know why," Dumbledore said, nodding slowly. "I think, perhaps, I understand." Harry wished the Headmaster would share that knowledge, but Dumbledore didn't do so. "You did, at least, speak to an adult." A slight smile finally broke across his face. "However in the world did you convince Severus to help you?"

Harry relaxed a little, relieved no longer to be the subject of such a painfully forgiving gaze. "I don't really know that, either," he said, shrugging. "I just...asked."

"Most interesting," Dumbledore said, sitting back. "You did go to the right man, however. Severus is excellent with many counter and reversal spells, and I think you may have discovered that his talent in teaching lies with the individual, not the group."

"Yes," Harry agreed.

"Speak of the devil," Dumbledore said, rising to his feet. A moment later there was a brisk knock at the office door, which admitted a scowling Snape on Dumbledore's summons.

"Headmaster," he said, sketching a slight bow. His eyes fell on Harry and the scowl deepened. "Potter, what a surprise. What trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?"

"It seems, Severus, that Harry is in need of your potions expertise," Dumbledore said.

"Hasn't seemed to occur to him yet, no matter what mark I give him," Snape sneered.

"It appears," Dumbledore sailed on, seemingly ignoring the muttered remark, "that someone has given an obscure and rather complicated potion to our Mr. Potter, which he now needs to have neutralized. Come, sit down. Tea?"

Snape sat, and refused the offered tea, but his interest was obviously peaked. He listened as Harry repeated, nearly verbatim, what Krum had said about the potion.

"Hmm," he said when Harry had finished. "Fine mess, Potter, fine mess."

"Can't you reverse it?" Harry asked, alarmed.

"Of course I can," Snape said, looking offended. "It will take some doing, however. I have never seen the recipe for this particular concoction of Reynard's, I have only heard rumors. I can, however, attempt to reconstruct the potion, based on the clues from Mr. Krum and your own symptoms."

"Reynard did seem to invent a lot," Harry said, frowning.

"Why do you think the Dark Lord kept him around? He was little use in a duel, cared little for political, even personal principles. All he cared about was creating his potions. I heard a rumor once that the Dark Lord actually had him imprisoned in his lab for nearly a decade after some transgression or other, but Reynard didn't seem to mind."

"Do you think this is related to the manifestation I read about?" Harry asked.

Snape rolled his eyes. "How should I have cause to know? I would think not, though. This manifestation sounds like something big, something very important, and the name implies it's something that, once set in motion, takes time to come to fruition. This potion, no matter how effective or innovative, fits neither description."

"Okay," Harry nodded, "that makes sense."

"I'm glad you approve," Snape said sarcastically.

"What will you need to neutralize this particular potion, Severus?" Dumbledore cut in, diverting the impending contest of glares.

"A very accurate description of the symptoms, Potter," Snape said. "The matter is rather complicated by the fact that the potion was in effect personalized by the addition of the hairs. That makes it much more powerful and difficult to reverse. I suspect I will have to resort to Paritor scales, which I unfortunately do not have in stock, as they are both expensive and rare." He sighed dramatically at Harry's blank look. "Oh, honestly, Potter. Your utter ignorance of Latin, not to mention potion ingredients, is appalling. Paritor fish are magical creatures that inhabit only a few sites in Britain, all underground lakes. They are, as you would know if you had an inkling of talent for languages, all exactly alike, down to the last cell. Many of their body parts and secretions can serve as an antidote to the very personalized and specified sort of potion we are dealing with here."

"Okay," Harry said slowly. "I have money, if--"

Snape waved a dismissive hand. "No. It would take weeks to receive any if I were to order them. As I said, they are very rare. And I suspect you are eager to have this potion reversed as soon as possible."

Harry nodded. "So what can we do?" he asked, perplexed.

Snape sighed, seeming greatly put upon. "It seems, Mr. Potter, that you and I must go fishing."

***

Snape left shortly, after deciding that he and Harry would leave ridiculously early the next morning for some undisclosed location for what Snape called "an adventure in aquatic horror." He also ordered Harry to bring along an object that Celestina had handled extensively. Cynically, Harry wondered if he himself would do.

"Well then," Dumbledore said, after he had ushered the Professor out, already muttering with some glee about binding agents and preservation spans and reinforcement loops. Harry sipped absently at his now cold tea, then frowned slightly as Dumbledore solicitously refilled his cup. It seemed the interview wasn't quite over yet.

"It seems," Dumbledore said, foregoing his desk and taking the chair next to Harry, "that you and I owe each other a bit of a talk, hmm?"

"I reckon," Harry said, swirling his tea.

"It is strange," the Headmaster continued musingly. "It appears that I owe you an apology, the second one I must tender this year."

"An apology?" Harry asked, startled. "What do you have to apologize for, Professor?"

"For not knowing," the Headmaster said, quite seriously. "For inviting someone into this castle who meant you harm...again. For not recognizing the harm already done. For not speaking to you over a month ago when that interesting article appeared in the Prophet. I knew then, should have known then, that, though you are not adverse to breaking certain rules, sneaking out of the castle entirely without your friends is unusual for you."

"I knew, too," Harry said softly. "I mean, I think I did. There were these little...moments, I remember now. When I would think something about her or me and it would just be the absolute wrong thing I should be thinking. But the problem was it felt so right."

"It appears we both are guilty of not listening to our own instincts," Dumbledore said gently. "Harry, I'm sure Professor Moody has said this to you many, many times, and I myself may have told you something similar before as well. But it bears repeating, and repeating often." He set down his teacup, leaned over, and took both Harry's hands in his. His skin was very thin and delicate beneath Harry's fingers. "Listen to yourself," he said quietly, intensely. "Listen to your fears and your gut-reactions. Know your beliefs, know your instincts. Find that part of you that knows things before the rest of you does. Learn to be guided by it, and you will not be led astray."

"I think I understand," Harry said quietly.

"I have made mistakes," Dumbledore said, squeezing Harry's hands to stop his protests. "I spent a year with a murderer masquerading as an old friend. I did not recognize the danger in your illness earlier this year. I invited a person into a place that should be inviolable for you, then did not see the danger you were in when I should have, by all rights. I have made mistakes, Harry, and I will continue to do so." He paused and smiled gently. "I am very old, Harry, and very tired. I think, perhaps, it is time we started listening to your instincts, not mine, hmm?"

"I--" Harry said, taken aback. It was one thing to suspect a change in the Headmaster, to note the weariness in his eyes and the slight stoop in his shoulders. It was entirely another matter to hear him say it.

"Now," Dumbledore continued, seeming to understand Harry's predicament. "I will ask you, and please answer honestly, Harry. Are you alright?"

Harry glanced down at their hands, still clasped. His were smaller than Dumbledores's, held with immense, humbling care in the Headmaster's. "I think I will be," Harry said quietly. "I feel...when the potion is reversed I'll feel much better, I think. I'll need to talk to her, ask her..."

"Yes." Dumbledore gave his hands one last squeeze, then released them, sitting back. "As to that, I wished to ask you. You do have legal recourse in such a case, with a mind-altering potion administered without your knowledge. Do you wish to pursue the matter in that way?"

Harry frowned, already shaking his head. "It would be mad," he said ruefully. "Me being me and her being her, there'd probably be some sort of trial...no, I can't do that."

"I thought you would say so," Dumbledore agreed. "So, tell me, what is it that you would like to do?"

Harry thought of the letter he had received the first of March, the very morning Hermione had approached him. At the time the news it bore, Celestina's projected return date of March 21, had filled him with exultation. Now it frightened him. "I'd like, well I'd like to ask her, like Hermione did Viktor," Harry said. "I think, I think that helped her. She's been...well, I guess I sort of know how she felt now, but I've been worried about her. And I think confronting him about it was good for her."

"Alright," Dumbledore said, nodding. "You'll understand, however, if I ask you to allow me to be present, much as you were for Miss Granger. I can, as you well know, secrete myself quite effectively."

"I'd like that," Harry said, nodding.

"Excellent. Do inform me as soon as you have set up such a rendezvous. And, if possible, do stay within the castle grounds, if not the castle itself. I'm sure we can work out a way for Miss Warbeck to slip in, don't you think?"

"Yes," Harry nodded, rather relieved. "And Headmaster, you don't owe me an apology. I should have come to you, I know that. Not just this time, but earlier too, when I was sick."

Dumbledore nodded, but there was an odd, satisfied sort of smile on his face. "It's alright, Harry. Let's just agree to both be sorry and leave it at that, shall we?"

Harry smiled and agreed.

"And," Dumbledore continued, "you do look much improved since your collapse. I'm glad to see that my trust that you would take the nutrient potions and make yourself healthy again was not misplaced."

"Yes sir," Harry said. "I finished with the nutrient potions right after Christmas. Madam Pomfrey said I looked fine and that I could stop early, as long as my weight stayed up."

"That's excellent," Dumbledore said, nodding. Harry had no doubt he'd known that already, but he suspected the Headmaster was glad to hear him speak of it anyway. "Do you know, Harry, what was wrong, then?" he asked gently. "And incidentally, Vestigium Encantidum was one of the methods I employed then in my attempts to discover a curse. You were rather unconscious at the time and probably do not remember."

Harry looked away, an odd, fuzzy feeling creeping through him. He suddenly couldn't think clearly, couldn't put together Dumbledore's question with any sort of sensible answer. "Er," he said, fumbling.

"It's alright," Dumbledore assured, raising a hand and stopping him. "I think, perhaps, you were reacting to the pain of the events of last year. It is, according to my dear brother - I hope you don't mind Harry, but I did consult with him about you - not entirely surprising that you reacted in such a way. But you pulled yourself through it marvelously, and Sirius and I, and your friends, I'm sure, are very glad of it."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said, feeling suddenly unsettled and restless.

"Well." Dumbledore sighed dramatically. "As much as I'd like to spend the rest of the afternoon in your pleasant company, Harry, it seems the rest of the world is determined to deprive me of such a treat." He cast a mournful look to the substantial stack of parchments on his desk.

"Of course." Harry rose hastily. "I didn't mean to keep you."

"Oh, do feel free to interrupt me at any time," Dumbledore said, twinkling more like his old self as he escorted Harry to the door. "And," he added, touching Harry's shoulder as they reached the door, "thank you for coming to me now. You and Severus will have your little adventure, the potion can be neutralized, and we can attempt to discover from Miss Warbeck what Mr. Krum apparently did not know."

"Yes sir," Harry said.

"Harry." Dumbledore caught his chin between gentle fingers. "It will be alright in the end. Even if Miss Warbeck is unhelpful, we are in effect forewarned. The answers may not come all at once, but at least now we have some of the right questions." Harry nodded, and Dumbledore beamed. "Run along, then. I think, perhaps, you and Miss Granger should have a bit of a talk before Mr. Weasley returns from Hogsmeade."

***

Harry paused a moment outside the Fat Lady's portrait. He had taken his time on the way from Dumbledore's office up to the tower, and the mostly deserted corridors had given him a chance to think. A chance he knew he badly needed, but did not particularly want to take. The odd numbness he'd existed in for the past month had been efficiently stripped away, and Harry felt bruised and tender all over, as if just thinking was putting pressure on hurtful places. But, as usual, Dumbledore was absolutely right. He really did need to talk to Hermione.

"Galoshes," he said to the Fat Lady, and slipped into the common room. It was still mid-afternoon, the hot, early Spring sun streaming in through the tower's uncurtained windows and casting an orange glow over the red rugs and furnishings. The vast majority of the school would be in Hogsmeade until the very last minute, and then stream back in a contented flood, moneybags lighter and stomachs heavier, right before dinner was to start. Even the first and second years who had to stay behind seemed to be away, probably out on the grounds, enjoying the novelty of a clear, sunny day.

Hermione sat in their usual corner, her back to the portrait hole as she hunched over her work. She was, however, Harry was sure, perfectly aware of his presence.

"Hullo," he said, slipping into the chair beside her.

"Hi," she returned, keeping her eyes on her parchments.

Harry frowned over at her, searching for a way to start a conversation. She felt so strange to him then, and it hurt him to know that. It was sort of funny, he supposed, that in suffering something very similar, in feeling the same sort of pain, they were driven further apart. He sat there watching her, no longer looking for an opening to speak, but just observing. Hermione worked on beneath his scrutiny, her loose hair concealing her expression from him.

At last she straightened, neatly stacking her parchments with one hand as she smoothed her hair back with the other.

"Will you teach it to me?" she asked, not looking at him.

Harry jumped, startled by the abrupt sound. "Er, teach what?"

"The charm," she said. "The restoring charm. Will you teach it to me?"

"Well, sure," Harry said, a bit flustered. "I reckon that's not a bad idea."

"It will make me feel..." she trailed off, needlessly fussing with her perfectly aligned parchments.

"Safer?" Harry suggested gently.

She didn't respond, but he knew it was the right word. "So, tonight?" she asked.

"If you want," Harry acquiesced. "We can meet down here at two o'clock, like last time. I'll bring the cloak, we can use the same place."

"That's fine," she said, and then began gathering her things.

"Hermione, wait." Harry caught her wrist, stilling her too-quick movements. "Dumbledore said we should talk, and we should."

She tugged at his grip and he released her, hurt and confused. He simply didn't understand why she wouldn't let them take comfort in each other now, when they most needed to.

"Do you really think we could be any good for each other?" she asked, and there was something so quietly lost in her voice that it made Harry catch his breath.

"Yes," he said in a hushed voice. "Things have been so strange with us for a while. I...I think I'd like to be able to talk to you again. And I'd hope that maybe talking to me would help you somehow."

She let out a great, gusty sigh, her body seeming to deflate. "Not yet," she said, looking up at him for the first time. "Just, not yet. Maybe...eventually. It's just I...I don't think I can. I have a lot to think about, Harry. Some decisions to make. Please, just teach me the charm tonight, okay?"

"Okay," Harry agreed, not trying to stop her a second time as she gathered her things and headed for her dormitory. He watched after her for a long time, not knowing what to feel or how to think. This year had been so strange and disjointed, attacks with no follow-up, secrets with no reason. Harry felt lost and alone as he thought of all he had done, all he had seen over the past months.

He dropped his head down onto the table, pillowing it on his folded arms. The fabric of his robes was slightly rough against his cheek and he tried to focus on that, to think only of that. But now that he knew the truth, the siren call of Celestina sounded like a discordant shriek inside him. Now that he knew how Hermione had been feeling over the past month, he wanted even more to comfort her, and knew exactly why he could not.

Not yet, anyway.

He sat slumped there for the rest of the afternoon, thinking of Dumbledore trusting his judgment and dismissing his own, of how it felt to know that you could lie to yourself and be very good at it, and of how long it would be before he and Hermione could look at each other without being reminded of this day and all it had brought. It was only when the rest of the Gryffindors began piling in to put away their things before dinner that he stirred, lifting his head and gazing almost groggily about him. Ron bounced over, loaded down with Honeyduke's delights and full of how Mandy Brocklehurst had pulled Millicent Bulstrode's hair out for calling her a cow. Harry smiled and nodded, wishing it were night already so he could help Hermione the only way she would let him.

***

"Well then," Harry said, smiling as best he could over at his pupil. "You seem to have it."

"Yes," Hermione agreed, lowering her wand. She was, as she had been for the entire time they'd been working, very businesslike and calm. Harry suppressed a yawn and leaned surreptitiously against the wall. He wasn't sure just how long they'd been at it, but he'd bet it wouldn't be long before dawn broke over Hogwarts. It seemed he wouldn't have time to catch even a nap before he was to meet Snape. It had taken Hermione a surprisingly long time to pick up the knack of the Commoneo charm, which Harry attributed to their mutual exhaustion and strain.

But the spells, which she had been firing at an enormous, cloth shrouded armoire, were finally looking just as they should.

"Can I try it on you now?" Hermione asked, glancing over at him for the first time in a while.

"Sure," Harry said, nodding. He'd followed Snape's undoubtedly wise course of not letting her try it on him until it looked like she had a good grasp on it. "It should clear my head and make my thoughts more orderly. Sounds sort of nice."

She smiled just a little and lifted her wand, eyes narrowing in concentration. "Commoneo!"

Harry frowned, staring down at his chest where the spell had struck. "I didn't feel anything," he said. "I don't feel...clearer."

Hermione frowned, shaking her wand as if the fault lay there.

"I've never felt it before, though," Harry continued. "Try it on yourself and see what happens."

Hermione did, and Harry watched in slight confusion as some of the abstraction in her eyes faded away. "Wow," she said, sounding animated for the first time all night. "That really works. It's sort of refreshing. That would be dead useful around exam time."

"Try me again," Harry said, curious now.

Hermione turned her wand on him again, but as before, Harry felt no difference. "Maybe I'm just too tired to know what I'm feeling," he said. He absently lifted a hand and massaged the back of his neck. It was sort of cold, and the stiffness in his back and shoulders had climbed up the column of his spine and settled at the back of his head in a sharp, but receding ache.

"It's pretty noticeable," Hermione objected. "Why would it work on me and not on you? Maybe it's psychosomatic, maybe I'm really not doing the spell right."

"Here, I'll try it on myself," Harry suggested, reaching for his own wand. He lifted it, feeling rather silly as he pointed it at himself. He closed his eyes a moment, summoning the degree of focus and concentration he had learned to grasp under Snape's instruction. But this time he didn't focus on a particular incident or memory. He simply let the spell flow out of him, into his wand, and then back to himself, unfocussed but clearly formed.

"Commoneo!"

It struck him full in the face, and for a few moments Harry was too dazzled by the flash of light to realize what was happening. But then his vision cleared and he realized that something was very, very wrong.

Harry stood stock still for a brief moment, then crumpled to his knees, his wand rolling away from slack fingers. He dimly heard Hermione's alarmed cry, but it was little more than a distant echo. His senses were overloading, his mind nearly buckling under the onslaught as a flood of memories was unleashed, cresting through his consciousness like a tidal wave, and carrying Harry along with it.