Heir Of Voldemort

Set - a few days after ch. 9

Notes: Like I said, things are getting worse, Voldemort´s naughty behaviour causing all kinds of upsets, left right and centre. This is the second chapter of that former one-chapter epic.

And, again, this all belongs to respective owners. I just take things, break them and glue them back together in funny shapes :)

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Professor McGonagall strode into the deserted Great Hall, her eyes scanning the few pupils who remained. Her shoes clicked on the floor, echoing in the eerie silence, her expression grim.

She had just returned from a brief sojourn to the Ministry and the situation there was as bad as she had guessed it would be.

Everywhere she had looked, wizards were trying to hold everything together, while being horribly aware that anyone they were working with, even themselves could be agents of the Dark Lord.

People were silent, work being done with haste. The usual chatter and bustle that frequently filled the offices had all but dried up, everyone casting surreptitious and suspicious glances at their neighbours, lest they be betrayed.

After persuading Cornelius Fudge that she was truly acting of her own volition and giving him the lecture she had longed to for years, she had been granted permission to return to Hogwarts with orders for any of the old groups she could get hold of.

Still, despite all her assurances, Fudge seemed to trust her about as far as he could throw a muggle bus without magic.

However, her interests did not lie with making a good impression on the ignorant and generally useless Minister of Magic, but centrally with protecting the remaining pupils of Hogwarts.

The size of the Great Hall and the fall in the numbers still resident made the building look even bigger and the figures more insignificant. Less than thirty pupils remained and every one of them still looked dubious about their decision to stay.

They were grouped together in a frightened mass at the end of the hall. Every pair of eyes had swung to the door the moment McGonagall had entered, the initial panic giving way to immediate relief.

Once again, there was silence.

The banners in the Hall were all black, out of respect for the dearly missed Head Master, who had been laid to rest on the high banks of the lake only days earlier. It had only seemed right that he had buried in the place he had loved with every fibre of his being.

His grave was marked with a simple headstone, elaborate gold lettering etched in the white marble, which Professor McGonagall knew would be lovingly cared for as if it were Dumbledore himself.

The few that remained at the school had emerged for the quiet funeral on the lakeside, even the ghosts and house elves. Several former teachers and a few braver friends joined them.

It came as no surprise that Cornelius Fudge, the Minister, claimed he was `otherwise engaged´ and could not come to the school, where Voldemort seemed to have taken to finding fresh victims.

However, those who resided on the grounds made their presence felt.

Centaurs came out of the dark forest, bringing with them Unicorns and some of the other mystical creatures that Dumbledore had granted sanctuary there. A pair of satyrs played a sad tune on their wind pipes, the Mer-people rising from the lake to pay tribute to the fallen Wizard.

It had been a sorrowful day, knots of pupils weeping together, the teachers present unashamed to join them. However, it also gave them the strength and resolve to continue the fight where Dumbledore had left it.

Quieter, though still as touching, the funeral for Dennis Creevey had been held shortly after the Head Master´s. His body had been dumped on the edge of the school grounds after Voldemort had finished with him.

The boy looked like he had suffered a lot before the killing curse granted him peace.

At the request of his muggle parents and wizard brother, the boy was buried in the school grounds in one of the places that he had loved best, near the Quidditch field.

Only a few Gryffindors were in attendance, including the Gryffindor Trio, which had caused poor Mrs Creevey to weep, as she had clasped Harry Potter´s hands, confiding how much Dennis worshipped him.

They had departed quickly, lest the murderer of their son was still close, but Colin had elected to stay, determined to finish what he had started, in spite of what had happened to his brother.

He was one of the few faces lining the Hall that McGonagall now paced.

The fear that seemed to fill the halls was hardly surprising, so much so that even Peeves silent for once.

Since the Headmaster´s death and before the shockwaves that had rippled through the wizarding world had subsided, two more pupils had vanished from within the castle grounds before their parents could even summon them home, and a third was found dead by the lake.

All three had been muggle-borns.

Only one muggle-born witch and one wizard remained.

The rest had all fled back to their muggle homes, far from the world of magic and most importantly, far from the school, which - they believed - was certainly a lot safer than being at Hogwarts was at the present time.

Given the position as Head Mistress, Professor McGonagall had made it her duty to oversee the completion of Dumbledore´s long-term wishes, despite wanting nothing more than to hide herself in one of the highest rooms in the tallest towers and weep until she had no tears left.

After all, she had known Albus since she - herself - had attended Hogwarts, so many years before. He had helped her learn transfiguration so well that he actually assigned her as the teacher for it, when he received the exalted post of Headmaster.

Approaching the top of the Great hall, where the Prefects and Seniors were standing, she stopped in front of the Head Girl, Hermione Granger of Gryffindor, one of a small knot of seniors that remained.

"What´s the news from the Ministry?" Professor Lupin asked. He had returned to the school almost immediately after Dumbledore´s death, while many of the other teachers fled in a panic.

He looked more tired than he ever had when he had taught at Hogwarts, but he was determined to protect the school, along with the other half a dozen teachers who remained, grim-faced but equally resolved.

All of them looked tense and drawn and, judging by the decor of the hall, they had been keeping tabs on the pupils by sleeping in the Great Hall with all of them, lest You-Know-Who attempted another kidnapping.

McGonagall´s lips thinned when she observed that Professor Snape was no longer present with the other members of teaching staff.

Where he had gone, she had no doubts.

He and Professor Dumbledore had confided in her the details of his double-sided mask shortly after they had heard of Lord Voldemort´s resurrection, lest anything should happen to either of them.

Part of her both cursed and blessed their foresight, but now, her attention had to be on her pupils and the school.

"They have no plans to aid us, as yet," the Head Mistress stated gravely. "They did not believe that such a thing would happen, so now, they have been given this unpleasant wake-up call. Everyone in the Ministry is under suspicion and I certainly was not as welcome as I had been in the past."

"But they have to do something!" Granger protested. She looked as drawn and exhausted as the teachers. "They can´t just leave the school open and ready for You-Know-Who to just walk in and take over."

Professor McGonagall shook her head sadly. "I´m afraid it is too late for that, Miss Granger," she said. "In my opinion, I believe that they already think the school a lost cause, so they do not want to waste their valuable time in trying to save it, since there is little left to save."

"There´s always something to save!" Colin Creevey said emphatically. "Professor Dumbledore would have wanted this school to go on, even after he..." He trailed off and looked around the Great Hall. "I don´t believe he´d want it to be abandoned."

"That is what I informed the Ministry of, Mr. Creevey," McGonagall said quietly. "I am afraid that they do not share our opinion." She sighed wearily. "They believe that a school without pupils is impossible to save, no matter how much we protest."

"But the deaths! Surely they have to do something!" Professor Flitwick´s face bore a look of betrayal and disbelief that the Ministry could be so callous. "They could still protect what we have left!"

"Their argument," the Head mistress said grimly. "Is that if we wish to protect the children, we should send them all away, never to return. We would seal the school and leave it in that state until Voldemort is defeated."

"Unless he takes over and starts a new school for the Dark Arts," Professor Sprout put in angrily. "The Ministry doesn´t know what they´re talking about!"

"Is there a chance that he will try and take over?" The question was voiced by one of Granger´s two closest friends, Harry Potter. McGonagall almost smiled. He looked determined and defiant, just like his father in many ways.

Although, the Phoenix that perched upon his shoulder certainly wasn´t something that James would have tolerated easily.

"He could achieve it with ease at present, Potter, unless we find some way to prevent it," Professor McGonagall said, watching as he brought Fawkes down on his forearm, stroking the bird´s fluffy, regrowing plumage.

It had surprised her when the newly reborn Phoenix had crawled across the floor to Harry, as soon as he entered the tower office, to take the sobbing Hermione back to her dormitory only a few days previously.

Without question, the young man had gently scooped up the tiny, bald creature. He had turned to Dumbledore, where he rested in his seat, and - causing McGonagall to break down again - had said, "Don´t worry. I´ll take care of him, Professor."

Somehow, there was a bond between boy and bird.

Something...

Something she knew was significant but couldn´t quite remember.

"All of you," she called, clapping her hands to get the attention of the group of teenagers. "As you can see, there are few of us left. In houses, I want you to go up to your dormitories - staying together - and collect anything you should need and bring it down here. This will be where we work and live. Anyone who does not accept this arrangement, you are welcome to return home."

Silence greeted this statement.

"Very well, into your houses and go."

***

"What have you done?"

Kneeling in front of a statue in the back room of his costume shop, Ethan looked up guiltily at the fuming woman standing in the doorway, her hands on her hips, her eyes flashing with ire.

"Um...Cassie...nice to see you in my humble shop..."

"Ethan..." She held up a finger. "I´m warning you. Tell me what you´ve done."

He gave her a hopefully-impish grin, but he had an odd-feeling that he looked more like a rabbit caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. "Well, y´see, I hadn´t played with chaos for a while..."

"Ethan."

"That mean´s I´m in trouble, doesn´t it?"

"My little boy is out there and I want to know that he´s not in any danger," Dark brown eyes glared down at him. "You can have as much fun as you please, as long as Alexander isn´t hurt."

"Ah...well...you see, he does have one of the cursed pieces of costume..."

"Ethan!"

"But he´s safe! Really!"

"And how do you work that one out?"

He got up, motioning around the shop. "Each person becomes their costume and he was dressed as a soldier, complete with a gun. He´ll be safe and so will the two girls that he´s with."

"Two...girls?"

Nodding, the wizard grinned. "Pretty little red head with a ghost costume and a bottle blonde with an Eighteenth century damsel costume." Cassandra´s face went white. "Is that bad?"

"Is that bad?" she echoed in disbelief. "Is that BAD?!? She´s the bloody Slayer, Ethan! And you´ve turned her into a damsel in distress! As if raising dark powers isn´t bad enough, you turn the only thing that can stop them into a swooning `Lady´!" She froze as the bell on the front door jingled. "Finish it, Ethan." She hissed, before pulling the hood of her invisibility cloak up and vanishing. "Finish it now."

Ethan turned back to the statue, then sighed, shaking his head. "Only a little while longer," he muttered, sinking back into the shadows as footsteps approached the curtains, opening to permit a very familiar face to enter.

The wizard hid a smirk.

This was going to be interesting.

Rayne and Ripper reunited...

***

Pacing across the jet-black floor, Voldemort was acting like a caged beast. None of the Death Eaters dared to approach him in this humour, exchanging wary glances to one another around the room.

Since early that morning, he had been doing so. Most assumed that it was something to do with some power source drying up again, combined with the sheer frustration of the previous days.

"The school was meant to fall," he murmured, his face wrinkled in thought. "The loss of the Head Master was meant to shatter them completely."

"It...I thought it did, Sir..." one of the younger Death Eaters volunteered.

He was writhing on the stone-flagged floor, screaming in agony soon enough, as Voldemort reminded him why a rhetorical question was never meant to be answered in the circle of Death Eaters.

"Young fool," Stalking back to his throne, Voldemort swung around and sat down heavily, his long fingers drumming rapidly on the decorated arms of the high-backed seat. "I believed he was the heart of the school...my mistake...and so, the school still remains inhabited..."

"What...what do you intend to do, Master?" Malfoy asked carefully.

Voldemort leaned back, a pensive look crossing his reptilian features. "I suppose that I will take them a pupil at a time, if I have to, and bring their precious school down around them, stone by stone, to show them that their feeble hope and belief cannot save them."

"Why not hunt them down when they are away from the safety of the school?"

Sighing, Voldemort pointed his wand at the Death Eater who spoke and boredly said, "Crucio." When the man stopped screaming, the Dark Lord leaned forward on his throne. "What part of tearing their school down around them, stone by stone, to shatter their remaining faith did you misunderstand? The few that remain there are strong. I must break them, if only for sheer entertainment´s sake."

"I-I beg your pardon, M-Master." Scrambling back to his position in the circle, the young Death Eater bowed deeply. "I simply did not understand the-the complexities of your plans."

"And you understand better now, I´ll wager, hmm?" The man nodded desperately, his arms still shuddering from the pain. "It is rather surprising what a little pain can do for the memory, isn´t it?"

No one dared to reply.

"Now, my Death Eaters, I suggest that you prepare yourselves," He slowly stood, his midnight black robes flowing around him, making him seem so much taller and more powerful. "Malfoy, see what our ...friends at the Ministry have found out."

The tall, lean man sloped out, his son at his heels.

"Avery," A white finger singled out the man. "See if you can´t find dear Mundungus Fletcher. I would rather like to talk to him..." Avery made a sound like a combination of grunting and laughing.

A short, squat figure hurried forward. "My Lord, if I may beg your permission, I would like to bring you Black and Lupin."

"Don´t be so foolish, Wormtail," Voldemort sighed, waving Peter Pettigrew with an imperious motion of his hand. "You have neither the wit or the capabilities to capture your former friends," One of Voldemort´s long fingers caressed his own chin in thought. "However, assume your vermin form. See what the whispers are in Diagon Alley. Find out what the rumours are, lest there be any that may be of use."

A Ministry worker approached, bowing slightly. "What of me, Master?"

"You have one of the wretched Weasleys in your department, do you not?" Eyes glittered eagerly behind the grim mask. "They have always been a...difficulty we have never overcome," Voldemort unfurled his hand. "Go and see to it."

The younger Death Eater darted off, chuckling with malicious glee.

It went without saying that the Weasley family were not the most popular wizarding families in Voldemort´s point of view, mainly because of their ambivalence regarding muggles and the barrier between the magic world and the muggle world.

Yes, their daughter had been fun to toy with, but...

It wasn´t enough.

They were the strongest supporters of Dumbledore and probably would still be, so to break up their family, the loyal, unified mudblood-lovers, even if it took him days, weeks or months would be...

Smiling slightly, Voldemort sank back down onto his throne, his long hands flexing sensually around the velveteen padding on the crafted arms. Yes, he could be patient, but he would break them.

His attention shifted slightly, to the shadowy figure skulking on the sidelines.

Snape.

As always, the Potions Master of Hogwarts was a puzzle to the Dark Lord. Deadly and calculating, Snape was still strangely uneasy when it came to the more hands-on work, usually being the first to leave the scene while his contemporaries would stay and revel in the bloodbaths.

He could kill, the Dark Lord knew it well, but he preferred to see a clean death, as opposed to the bloody ones that many of the Death Eaters favoured. Many of them appreciated the agony they could inflict with a blade as well as a wand, sheerly to prolong the torment of their victim.

Oddly squeamish around freshly-killed bodies, he could artistically dissect the corpses barely hours later with a deftness that eluded many of the Dark Wizards and a coolness that had first drawn Voldemort´s eye to him.

Those carefully dissected bodies were often the special...trinkets left outside the homes of families who had dared to stand against him, as a quiet warning.

More than once, Voldemort had concealed himself under an invisibility cloak to watch as the doors of a house would open, then the screams would start: the delicious screams, the pleas and the weeping.

Yes, an intact corpse would yield the same results, but seeing the body of a father, a mother, a sister, a friend, a lover...one lost but you hoped, imagined, prayed to anyone who listened that they would return safely...to find them mutilated so carefully that the skin of the face literally slipped off - like a grotesque mask - when you tried to close the glassy eyes...

Snape was quite simply an artist.

Not only did his skill with a blade fascinate Voldemort, but he could brew a poison to kill fifty people in one sitting or an antidote for the substances that the Ministry had tried to poison various Death Eaters with, during his previous reign.

"Severus."

And his name...

The hiss of the Potions Master´s name on his lips simply felt evil.

"Master," Snape approached the low dais, dipping his head in as close to a bow as he was willing.

"I believe you have been keeping some contact with my Lady," The cloaked figure´s shoulders tightened, causing Voldemort to raise a mental eyebrow. What was this? "I wish to hear from her, to receive some evidence that my Heir is thriving."

Snape´s narrow shoulders slumped marginally, possibly with relief, something that Voldemort didn´t miss, a look of intrigue flickering in his scarlet eyes.

"I will see what I can do, Master," Snape´s silken voice came from behind the mask, slightly muffled.

"Be sure you do it successfully, Severus," Threat hung on his words. "I would hate to have to punish you." Snape nodded grimly and turned, walking straight out of the dark lair as quickly as possible.

Watching him go, the Dark Lord thoughtfully scratched the hollow of his cheek with the tip of his index finger. "Tell me, Nott," he murmured. "Does Snape seem to be a little distracted to you?"

"My Lord?"

Shaking his head, Voldemort smiled a thin smile. "Never mind, Nott." He said with a casual wave of his hand. He would not forget it, though, and should he need to verify Snape´s loyalty...

The thin smile widened a millimeter.

Yes, he would remember.

***

"Evidence..."

Ethan nodded. "That´s what Sev said and I think he means that in the sense that if he doesn´t get it, there´s going to be the Devil to pay," He grimaced. "This Devil being the one you had to shag and the one paying up with interest being Sev, in blood."

"Evidence," Cassandra repeated quietly, making her lover study her anxiously.

She hadn´t been nearly as affectionate as she usually was around him. As soon as he had entered the house, she had motioned him to the seat nearest the Christmas tree that stood in the corner of the living room.

She had remained standing in the doorway, arms crossed over her breasts, her eyes dark and shadowed. Her hair was pulled back in a severe bun, her lips straight, her expression severe.

"What does he mean by evidence?" she finally asked.

Ethan shrugged. "Photos, videos, anything I s´pose..."

Standing in the doorframe of the living room that lead to the hall and the front door, the little witch pressed her temple against the wood. "Shit..."

That definitely made Ethan raise a brow. In all the time he had known her, for her to swear was a rare and usually dangerous thing. "Cassie? Luv?" He started to rise, but she gestured him back down. "Is something..."

"I´m not letting him see what Alex looks like," she said flatly.

"So send him a picture of someone else."

There was a long silence and Cassandra nodded. "Right..." Entering the living room, she rounded the sofa that Ethan was sitting on and reached into the bookshelf that stood against the wall beside him, withdrawing a photograph album.

Standing up and leaning against the arm of the sofa, he watched as she withdrew a large picture of two dark-haired boys and the red head he recognised from the album, gazing at it for a long moment.

He recognised Alexander, but the other boy, he didn´t know. The boy was clad in a black cloak and looked like he was ready to go out for Halloween, a sinister look on his face, while Alexander and the red head were pretending to be scared of him. It was clearly a few years old, but he doubted that You-Know-Who would observe that.

Closing the book with a thump, she slid it away and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Ethan uncomfortably in the living room, studying the Christmas cards strung up here and there.

One of them caught his eye: in it, two snowmen were actually having a snowball fight and what made it noticeable was the fact that they were moving. Raising a brow, Ethan lifted the card down and read it. "Thank you for all your help and I hope things are better for you than they are here. Happy Christmas. Virginia."

"Here," Cassandra had returned from the kitchen, the photograph cut up, a message scrawled on the back.

The remnants of the photograph had the mysterious dark-haired teenager looking suitably ominous and grim. Alexander and the red haired girl had been trimmed off, so he had the appearance fitting the heir of a Dark Lord.

Turning it over, he scanned the message written in Cassandra´s impeccably neat hand-writing. It announced that the Heir was well and that with the growth in darkness the world over, he was growing stronger.

Not entirely a lie, that.

"Thanks," He tucked it away in one of his many pockets. "I´ll see that he gets it as soon as possible." Nodding to the card in his hand, he remarked. "So you got a Christmas card from the little Weasley?"

Cassandra snatched it from him. "I want you to leave."

Turning to look over his shoulder at his lover, Ethan received a scowl in return. "So what have I done, this time, Cassie?" he asked, turning fully to face her, spreading his hands helplessly.

"Eyghon?" Her arms crossed in front of her chest, her brown eyes narrowed at him, giving him an unspoken warning. "I overheard the kids talking about it. You´ve been summoning again, haven´t you?"

"Um..."

"Well?"

"Here´s the thing, Cass...as long as I was going to live, Eyghon was going to be part of me...me and the Ripper," He gave her a wry smile. "I thought it would be better to get rid of the demon, because he is so bloody powerful."

"So you were destroying him?"

"Trying," He smiled weakly. "You did say that red head was the Slayer, right?"

Cassandra narrowed her eyes. "No. The blonde is."

"Oh shit..." Laughing in a very fake fashion, Ethan ran a hand through his hair. "I just thought she was a lively thing...I hope she doesn´t hold the tattoo on her neck against me."

"Tattoo on her neck? Ethan, you didn´t..."

"It was her or me, Cassie! Someone was going to die!"

"And you just chose the bloody SLAYER!"

Grimacing, he shook his head. "You make it sound like a bad thing, luv."

"What part of `We´re trying to defeat Voldemort by destroying the dark powers of the Hellmouth and NOT harming the Slayer´ did you miss?" she yelled savagely. "All I want to do is protect my son and you keep pulling stunts like this!"

"Cass..."

She turned her back on him. "Get out."

"But Cassie, luv..."

Her voice was low. "I´m not in the mood for dealing with you, Ethan. Just go."

Reluctantly, the wizard nodded and walked towards the back door. "I really am sorry, Cass," She didn´t even deign to look at him, a muscle in her cheek twitching, her eyes pressed closed. "You know where I am." He said, before quietly closing the door behind him.

***

For the first time in weeks, a new face appeared at Hogwarts, the charms set to protect the remaining pupils catching him off-guard and entangling him, before he had a chance to signal that he was a friend.

Liberated from the traps by Professor McGonagall, he had been ushered to the Great Hall, where all the pupils were, despite the fact that there hadn`t been a kidnapping since they had drawn in the new security measures, almost eight weeks previously.

A few tables stood here and there, some beds floating high above the floor, ready to be drawn down when night fell. All the pupils and teachers still inhabited the Hall, the only place they were allowed to go alone, the bathrooms.

Groups sat at tables, some studying from text books, the teachers taking small study session with anyone still determined to finish their magical education. That was the scene that greeted the new arrival.

Brown eyes scanned around the Great Hall, Percy Weasley´s glasses were askew, his robes tangled around his limbs. "Ginny!" He spotted his sister huddled between Harry Potter, his younger brother and Hermione Granger. "Ron!"

"Percy!" Scrambling to her feet, the youngest Weasley flew across the floor to him, hugging him tightly. "What are you doing here?"

Percy looked paler than she remembered, his lips thinning as their mother´s did when she was worried or afraid. "There were rumours going round that Ministry that You-Know-Who was after one of us, so mum told me to come and hide here."

"I´m not sure this is the safest place to be, Perce," Ron had joined them. "But it´s good to see you anyways."

Even though neither of the youngest Weasley children had ever been particularly close to their older brother, he was still family and having family around was always reassuring, especially with things as they were.

"How did you hear that..." Ginny shudder on the word, Harry´s hand on her shoulder calming her. "Y-you-Know-Who was after someone in our family?"

Percy´s face seemed to go a shade whiter and he nodded towards the table that the quartet had been occupying before his arrival. They hurried over to it and sat down, looking around to make sure they wouldn´t be disturbed.

Ginny squeezed between Harry and Ron on one side of the table, while Percy and Hermione sat down on the seats opposite them, the group huddling together over the broad table.

"I shouldn´t tell you this, but it´ll probably come out sooner or later," he muttered softly, his voice shaking. "Someone working in my department turned out to be a Death Eater." Ginny gasped and Ron uttered a curse. "They caught him last week and he was sent to Azkhaban."

"Did he...y´know...try to do you in?" Ron asked. Like his brother, he looked pale.

Percy shook his head, his face going a funny shade of green at the memory. "He...he was given veritaserum at his trial and he said that he had been told by You-Know-Who to get one of us," Ron and Ginny both swallowed hard. "Dad and mum decided it was time for them to go into hiding and said I should come here."

"Why here?" Hermione asked. "Why not go with them?"

Percy shrugged. "I assume that mum wanted us as spread out as possible, but still together, if we´re needed," He smoothed down the front of his black robes, picking a tuft of fluff of it. "Bill is off somewhere with Gringotts, so no one´s heard from him for a while and Charlie is still with the dragons and Fred and George...who knows."

"Th-they´ll be okay, won´t they?"

Harry couldn´t help smiling at the thought of Fred and George, who had left Hogwarts nearly two full years previously. "If any of your family´ll be all right, it´ll be those two, Ginny."

"Do-do you really think so?"

Hermione reached over to squeeze Ginny´s shaky hand. "Absolutely," she sounded so confident that Ron and Harry almost believed her. "Now, if we could just get you over those tendencies of going to the dungeons..."

Ginny looked down at the table top for several seconds, then raised her eyes to Hermione. "I won´t be going back down there again," she said. "Someone told me it wasn´t wise, so I´m not going to do it."

"Don´t tell me Snape told you it was a bad idea..." Ron rolled his eyes.

Ginny´s eyes dropped again, but this time, it wasn´t in shame. It was more like she was hiding something. "He did say that it was a bad idea," she admitted. "But it was someone else who changed my mind."

"And now, you´re not going to tell us, are you?"

The girl gave her brother a small smile. "Not yet," She nestled against him. "Don´t want you to think I´m completely batty."

His arm around her shoulder, Ron smiled, his cheek pressed against Ginny´s flaming hair. "Ginny, I thought you were daft the minute you started to talk about Snape like he was a friend."

"Well, he is."

Crossing his eyes, Ron pulled a face. "See what I mean?" he exclaimed. "Barking!"

For the first time in weeks, laughter rang around the rafters of the Great Hall, as a bird flew across the sky-blue enchanted ceiling, the winter sun shining brightly in on them from all sides.