Harry Potter and the Legacy of the Light

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Harry Potter and the Legacy of the Light A Harry Potter/The Dark Is Rising Sequence Fusion By: Gramarye

Chapter Twenty-Five - Decisive Action

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Between today and tomorrow are graves, and between promising and fulfilling are chasms.

    - Ruckett

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"I'm telling you, it can't fail."

"Why do I get the feeling that I've heard this argument before? More than once?"

"If you're going to be difficult, Ron--"

"Difficult, he says."

"But do you really think she'll fall for it? It sounded good when we were talking about it, but...I don't know."

"If we're convincing enough, I don't see how she can't."

"*If* we're convincing enough."

"Gin, you didn't have any problems with it before."

"I had PLENTY of problems with it before, Harry."

"Then why in hell did you tell me it was a good plan?"

"I'll thank you not to swear at my sister, Potter."

"Like I haven't heard worse from you, *brother*."

"Honestly, we don't have time for this. McGonagall's coming in twenty minutes and if I'm not in my room by then--"

"All right, all right, keep your hair on."

"So who's going? We can't ALL go in."

"...."

"...."

"......."

"Well, *I'm* going."

"As it's your plan, I certainly hope so."

"Does that mean you're not going, Ron?"

"Of course I'm going, you stupid git. Gin?"

"Only if Hermione agrees to go."

"But I'm not allowed to speak to Natalie! I shouldn't even be *seeing* her, let alone speaking to her. If McGonagall came in--"

"That's the beauty of it--you DON'T speak. You're there to...to...."

"To lend credence to your lies?"

"There's no need to get shirty."

"As if I hadn't broken enough rules already--"

"Fine. If you don't want to come in with us, you can go up to your room and wait, or you can stay out here with Neville and keep watch for McGonagall."

"Me? Why do *I* have to keep watch?"

"Because we need you to stall her."

"Oh, oka--hey, wait! How do I do that?"

"Pretend she's asked you a question in class and you don't know the answer."

"Or pretend she's Snape, whichever works better."

"Oh, do shut up, Ron."

"I was only trying to help!"

"D'you have any idea how *unhelpful* that was? Imagining McGonagall with that nasty greasy hair...eurgh...."

"Eighteen minutes!"

"Are you going or not?"

"....all right."

"Thank you."

"I just hope you know what you're doing, Harry."

"Things'll be fine...I hope." The last part was under his breath.

The five of them had been standing on the landing outside the second- year girls' dormitory for a good ten minutes. Explaining the plan had taken Harry less than no time, but the resulting squabble had dragged on long enough to make him nervous about its success.

The key was being convincing. He had to put the weight of his whole Boy Who Lived reputation behind his words. He had to act like the fate of humanity depended on his ability to set things right.

The method disgusted him--regardless of what Snape constantly hinted, wasn't that exactly the sort of behaviour he tried to avoid at all costs?--but if he guessed rightly, it would get the desired response.

If he guessed rightly. If they were convincing enough.

If. If.

He knocked on the dormitory door before he could change his mind.

"Who is it?" a girl's voice called out.

"It's Harry," he shouted back, feeling incredibly silly.

Giggles and squeals of giddy delight, quickly shushed, penetrated the thick wood of the door. The prospect of a late night visit from the famous Harry Potter, Quidditch Seeker and resident hero, subject of many a gushy article in "Witch Weekly", had sent several young hearts a-fluttering.

"Just a minute, Harry!" another girl's voice shrilled. "We're not decent!"

The proclamation was followed by a short burst of nervous giggles and excited chatter. Harry groaned.

"Simpering little idiots," Ginny sneered.

It took a rather long time for the girls to become 'decent'. Harry could feel Hermione twitching faintly nearby, every twitch marking off a precious second wasted.

Finally, the door opened a crack, and the artfully tousled head of Jennifer Spratt peeped out onto the landing.

Harry did a double take. Apparently, her concept of getting 'decent' had also included applying lip colour, rouge, and two lurid streaks of blue eye shadow. Bright red lips pulled back from slightly crooked teeth.

"Why, Harry, what a surprise! What brings you here so late?" Jennifer said archly, trying to sound coy and flirtatious in the way that only a love struck twelve-year-old girl can.

"I need to talk to Natalie." He did his best not to gape at her appearance. "Is she in?"

The lipsticked smile closed over her teeth. Her flirtatious grin gave way to a tight and unfriendly stare.

"Just a minute." She shut the door in his face.

Neville nudged Harry. "Was that *make-up* she had on?"

"Just barely," Hermione muttered.

"Only thing missing was a fright wig," Ginny said with a snort. "She'd have been all set for an early Hallowe'en."

"Ooh," Ron cooed, curling his fingers into mocking claws, like a cat's. "Temper, temper, little miss."

Ginny judiciously punched him in the arm.

The door opened, all the way this time. The breeze it created sent an miasma of musky perfume wafting into the corridor, a synthetic floral scent strong enough to make Harry's eyes water.

The bedroom looked no different than any room inhabited by five girls would look. Discarded work robes and clothing were piled in little islands on the floor. More clothing peeked out from under the beds, rumpled and wrinkled as if it had been hastily shoved underneath. Forlorn exercise books and rolls of parchment gathered dust in far corners, though copies of "Witch Weekly", "Young and Magical", and "Hello!"--the latest wizarding world edition--lay open on every bed. One of the girls had brought an old wireless to school, and in between crackles of static WWN blared the Weird Sisters' newest hit single.

With the exception of Jennifer, the occupants of the room were sitting on their beds doing whatever they had been doing before Harry's timely interruption. Barbara Baden-Smith had a quill in hand, writing in her diary. Isolde Yeggersnell was helping Lee Jordan's younger sister Philippa put her thick hair into tight plaits. Natalie was the only one facing away from the door. She lay on her stomach on her bed with her legs up in the air, reading "Witch Weekly". She didn't turn around as the door opened.

Harry pointed to the wireless. "Could you shut that off?"

Barbara was closest to it. She rolled over and switched it off.

"Thanks," he said. He raised his voice a few notches. "I need to talk to Natalie alone."

None of the girls moved.

"Please? It's very important."

Isolde Yeggersnell slid off her bed and slowly got to her feet.

The Yeggersnell family was something of an oddity at Hogwarts. Though most families, especially pure-blooded ones like the Yeggersnells, had all of their offspring in the same House, each of the four Yeggersnell children had been Sorted into a different House. Isolde, the youngest, was in Gryffindor. Her brother Marke was a sixth-year, a Hufflepuff prefect. Two elder siblings had already graduated: sister Brangaene from Slytherin, brother Melot from Ravenclaw. But regardless of the difference in their Sorting, all the siblings shared the same straight, fair hair and ice-blue eyes.

It was those eyes, superior and challenging, that were turned on Harry now. Isolde had no intention of being kicked out of her room without a fight. She was a Yeggersnell, after all.

"Anything you have to say to her you can say to us," she declared.

It took Harry a moment to work up his nerve to push forward.

"I really need to talk to Natalie...*alone*." He folded his arms squarely across his chest and leaned against the doorjamb to show he wasn't going anywhere. Even if he couldn't play waiting games with them, he had to make it look like he could.

Isolde's cold stare appraised him, weighing his words.

The beginnings of a cold sweat prickled on his scalp.

After a lengthy pause, she shrugged, accepting defeat as gracefully as if she had won.

"C'mon, Jinks." She tugged at Philippa's half-done hair. "Let's all go and see what Pongo and Fen are doing."

"Isolde--" Barbara protested, but stopped short as Isolde levelled an ice-blue gaze at her.

"You coming, Bee?"

Barbara glanced at Natalie, then at Harry, then back at Isolde. She nodded.

"C'mon, then."

Barbara set her quill down and shoved the diary under her pillow, thought better of it, and opened her trunk and threw it inside. She locked the trunk and pocketed the key, then tossed him a little triumphant smirk.

Giving every impression that she had chosen to leave the room of her own accord, Isolde marched to the door. As she was still holding on to Philippa's hair, Philippa had little choice but to follow. She scooped up a handful of hair elastics and scrambled off the bed, wincing when Isolde's tight grip yanked at her scalp. Barbara trailed a few paces behind, chewing fitfully on her lower lip. Jennifer joined her friends as they reached the door.

Harry stood aside to let them pass. A soft shuffling of feet behind him told him that Ron, Ginny, Neville, and Hermione had done the same.

He watched the younger girls file down the stairs to the common room. He had no idea who 'Pongo' and 'Fen' were. Nicknames, he guessed. The younger girls often did odd things like that.

Ron, Ginny, and Hermione followed him into the vacated room. Harry made signs to Neville, telling him to go and stand by the landing to keep watch for McGonagall. Neville went, but not without making a few signs of his own that indicated his displeasure in a way Harry hadn't thought he knew. Ron's bad influence at work, he was sure. He closed the door.

Throughout his dialogue with her roommates, Natalie had not moved once. She hadn't even looked around. She continued to lie facedown on her bed, scanning the pages of her magazine.

He walked over to stand next to her, to her left. Ron and Ginny took the other side of the bed and stood close together, creating a unified Weasley front. Hermione wandered to stand at the foot of the antique four-poster. She stood there with a confused and slightly disoriented expression, as if she wasn't quite sure how she had come to be there. She occasionally yanked at the high collar of her fluffy dressing gown, pulling the open ends together.

"Hullo, Natalie," Harry said.

Natalie's eyes flicked up at him, then back down to the open magazine.

"I'm not s'pposed to talk to anyone," she replied primly, very proper. She glanced over her shoulder at Hermione. "'Specially you. McGonagall said so."

Ginny laughed lightly. "Oh, you don't have to talk to any of us."

"That's right." Ron drew himself up to his full height, trying to look as intimidating as possible. "We're the ones talking to you."

With the tip of a finger, Natalie flipped the page, displaying a showy advertisement for Circe's Choice Cold Creem--Brighten Your Complexion Overnight! at only 10 Galleons 7 Sickles a jar.

"I'll tell McGonagall on you." She threw the warning over her shoulder, allowing them to catch it if they wanted.

*So far, so good,* Harry thought. *No problems yet.*

"Go right ahead," he said, slipping into his most casual voice. "In fact, go and find her right now. We'll be right behind."

"We've got something for her," said Ron, playing along.

Natalie turned the page. "Then go give it to her and leave me alone."

"I don't think you understand." Harry leaned forward, closing the distance between them. "We've got a part of Hermione's old paper. It's a little bit *burnt*, but it's hers. Her original essay."

That got Natalie's interest. She looked up at him, frowning. She stared into his eyes and at his face, thoroughly searching for any hint of deceit or trickery. Harry carefully kept his expression blank.

She pushed the magazine away and rolled over on her side, propping herself up on her elbow. "So?"

Here came the dicey part. He had to get this exactly right.

"We've also got an eyewitness who saw you burning something in the library fireplace."

He hoped he hadn't imagined the flash of panic that lit up her eyes like lightning, because like lightning it had gone before he knew it.

"So?" she repeated, infinitely calm.

She hadn't called his bluff. There was still a chance.

"Listen," he said sternly, looking down at her over his glasses in a manner that would have made Will raise a shrewd eyebrow. "We all know Hermione didn't cheat. We know you were failing Potions. And we know you had the opportunity to take the essay and pretend you hadn't found it. So either you own up and tell McGonagall you cheated, or we'll go give our evidence to her and...and let her draw her own conclusions." He ended on a deliberately vague note, filled with unspecified threat, and settled down to wait for the reaction.

But to his surprise--and great disappointment--she didn't scream or faint or start to cry.

He had expected that the ultimatum would produce a scene of monumental proportions, with floods of tears followed by a complete confession. All the while there would be pleas for mercy, for understanding, for a chance to set things right. Dramatic and effective. That was how things were supposed to go. He'd had it all worked out in his mind.

But Natalie, it seemed, had forgotten all of her lines in the middle of the performance and spoiled everything.

Her tight, peaked face with its boiled gooseberry eyes stared up at him for a long time, long enough to make him feel uncomfortable. Staring back at her, he noted that there were spots on her face that he hadn't seen before. She had tried to treat the acne with Madam Pomfrey's special concealing cream--there was a small pot of it next to her bed-- but it only made her look spottier.

"All right," she said. "I'll tell her."

Her clamped his mouth shut and held his breath to keep from crowing "You WILL?". When he was sure that he could control himself again, he let his breath out in a long, slow hiss through his teeth.

"Good," was all he said.

"I will," Natalie repeated slowly, "on one condition."

"One condition?" Ron wrinkled his nose distastefully. "You don't GET a condition. You should consider yourself lucky we're telling you this at all."

"Ron," Hermione said warningly.

Ron glowered, but remained silent. Hermione turned her attention back to Natalie.

"What do you want?" she asked, very quietly.

Harry's chest tightened. Once again, things weren't going right. He had not expected Hermione to say anything. Truthfully, his plan had *depended* on Hermione not saying anything, but he didn't fancy tapping her on the shoulder and telling her to be quiet. Better to wait and see where this led, and be prepared to head it off if it looked like going wrong.

Hermione's quiet response, however, achieved more than his veiled threats. Natalie's lower lip quivered, and the spots on her face stood out even more than before. Harry could tell that the fortitude and sheer nerve that had sustained her thus far was fading fast. She was losing her courage before their eyes.

It wasn't a pleasant sight. He had to look away.

"I...I can't...."

"You can't what?" Hermione quizzed.

The words came out in a rush. "Ican'tletmyparentsknowthatIgotexpelled."

"Figures," Ron said scornfully. "You should've thought of that before you went off and did this damn stupid thing."

The tears came. Natalie's face crumpled in on itself, and she buried her head in her pillow.

"They *mustn't* know!" Her keening wail was barely audible. "They can't! They'd DIE if they found out!"

Both Ron and Ginny flinched, bodies stiffening as if they had been hit with a Full Body-Bind.

In a horrible flash of deja vu, Harry felt his skin crawl as the air temperature of the room seemed to plummet.

The Weasley siblings had been transformed. All outward signs of life had disappeared from Ginny's face. The deadened, soulless expression-- the view into the empty room that had frightened Hermione so badly--had come crashing down upon her once more, cutting her off from the world. Ron, however, had transcended the relatively simple emotion of anger. He had passed through shock and fury and rage to reach a deep, abiding malevolence. If he had had his wand at hand, Natalie's worries about expulsion and saving face would have been meaningless. The teachers would have been too preoccupied tracking down and gathering what they could find of her remains to concern themselves with her reputation.

But before either of them could react, Hermione strode around the side of the bed and sat down next to Natalie's prone form.

"So you want me to ask for leniency," she said.

Her matter-of-factness broke the spell that had fallen over Ron and Ginny. Ginny blinked, and her eyes returned to normal--or some close approximation of it. Ron squeezed his hands into fists and redirected his gaze to the beaming smile of the "Witch Weekly" cover girl.

Hermione traced the stitching on the bedspread with her fingertips. "You want me to ask McGonagall and the others to go easy on you. Model-but-misguided student, first offence, won't ever happen again, Brownie's honour, that sort of thing."

There was no sarcasm in her voice. No trace of any spite or malice. "That's what you want?"

Face still hidden by her pillow, Natalie nodded feeble assent.

Hermione's hand gripped the blanket, crushing and twisting the cloth. "Answer me."

"Y...yes."

Ron laughed hollowly. The air had to force its way out of his mouth. "Nothing doing. Hermione wouldn't even consi--"

"Fine."

Ron all but gagged on his words.

"Hermione!" Ginny breathed.

Natalie spun around, flipping onto her back. One of her messy plaits had come undone, and hair spilled lopsidedly around her puffy face and fell in tangles across her reddened eyes. She stared up at Hermione, unable and yet desperately wanting to believe what she had just heard.

"You p-p-promise?" she faltered.

Hermione nodded once. "I promise."

"Oh!" Natalie pressed a hand to her mouth.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, more than a little frustrated. This wouldn't *quite* ruin his brilliantly constructed plan, but certainly it would make things more difficult for all of them. He couldn't decide whether Hermione was being overly magnanimous or incredibly stupid.

"Oh, thank you!" At that moment Natalie would have fallen to her knees kissed Hermione's feet if the older girl had asked her to. "Thank you!"

Hermione didn't acknowledge the gratitude. The bedsprings creaked as she got to her feet.

"I thought we were *friends*," she said. Not angrily, but regretfully. There was a deep sense of loss in the way she said the word 'friends'; a sense of something unsalvageable.

Astonishment and relief had stopped Natalie's tears, but now they came again thick and fast.

"I...I d-d-don't know," she spluttered when she could catch her breath between sobs. "I was mad. Completely mad."

She hiccoughed a few times. "I w-went to get the essay like you said, and I got to your room and opened the trunk and...and....I don't know what happened, but next thing I knew I was in my room and my bed was right there and then I came back later and...it was *there* and...."

"And you copied it."

"I didn't mean to! I was only going to use it to get started, honest I was!"

"Ha!" Ron barked.

"Honest!" Her breathing had speeded up; if it kept on that way she would be hyperventilating in a minute. "I swear it! I came back and I started to write but nothing I thought of sounded right, and it was midnight and I was so afraid and I needed something, *anything*, and before I knew it I'd...."

"Taken Hermione's work and passed it off as your own," Ginny finished, truthfully if not kindly.

Natalie's face went a greyish-white.

Before guilt could push it away, a mean little voice in the back of Harry's mind rejoiced: *Is this the scene you wanted?*

"I would've failed it." She hiccoughed again, releasing a staccato string of sobs. "I know I would've. Mum and Dad...I couldn't fail." Turning beseeching eyes on Hermione, she made one last stab at apology. "I...I know I can't ask you to forgive me--"

Hermione looked away. "Then don't."

Natalie was saved from the awful prospect of replying by a rattle at the door.

Harry cursed silently. They'd lost track of time.

Ron ran over, swearing colourfully as he tripped over a book and got his feet entangled in the straps of a discarded bra.

"What is it?" he hissed through the keyhole.

"She's coming!" Neville was on the near side of panic.

"Then head her off!" Ron shouted.

Neville whimpered. "But--"

"DO IT!"

Natalie was forgotten. In a clattering of shoes and slap-slapping of slippers, Ginny and Hermione were already bolting for the door. They were outside before Harry could think to move himself.

By the time he had slipped into the passageway and shut the door behind him, the dragging end of Ginny's old robe had just disappeared up the staircase. Her room was two floors above. Hermione was on the floor above that. With any luck, their roommates wouldn't question a sudden, breathless appearance. Lavender and Parvati could be trusted to keep quiet--perhaps the fourth-year girls would, too.

"...some last-minute revising in Hermione's room! Yes, just me and Ron and Harry, doing some last minute revising! Just us!"

Neville's too-loud voice rang out in the confined stone enclosure of the tower staircase. Ron and Harry quickly straightened their robes and flattened their hair with their hands as McGonagall's pointed hat came into view, followed by the rest of her. Neville trailed doggedly at her heels, stumbling a little when he missed the top step.

"Good evening, Professor McGonagall," Ron and Harry chirruped.

"Good evening, gentlemen." She nodded to them. "Mr. Longbottom tells me that you have a test tomorrow in Herbology."

Behind her, Neville's head was bobbing frantically as he mouthed 'Yes, yes, say yes'.

"Yes'm," Ron lied smoothly. "Got do to good in that class, y'know. Right, Harry?"

"That's right, Ron."

They both knew how fake they sounded, but by some miracle McGonagall didn't press them further.

"I certainly hope you do well then, Mr. Weasley." She faintly stressed the proper adjective. "Miss Granger is in her room?"

"Yes, she is," Harry said, praying it was true. "She was wondering when you would be coming."

"Indeed?" McGonagall paused. She tapped a finger to her cheek, as if a thought had struck her. "By any chance, do you know if Miss McDonald is in her room? Her roommates were downstairs, but I didn't see her with them."

Harry bit the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood.

"Why, no, I don't know." With all the manipulative skill of a chess player avoiding a dangerous gambit, Ron delicately sidestepped the question. "We've been in Hermione's room since we got back from the hearing."

"I haven't seen her at all tonight," Neville supplied helpfully, taking his cue from Ron. "Natalie, I mean. Have you, Harry?"

Harry shook his head, fighting back the nausea that the coppery taste of blood had sent churning through his stomach.

"Just as well." She nodded to them again. "Better go to bed, boys. You'll need your sleep for the test. Good night."

"Good night, Professor," they chorused brightly as she headed up the stairs to the fifth-year girls' dormitory.

Once she was out of sight and earshot, their legs gave out. The three of them wobbled over to grab the walls for support.

"Nice try, Neville," Ron said sarcastically. "I think she almost might have believed you for a moment there."

Neville gave him a black look. "You can do your own dirty work next time."

A few floors above them, a door shut with a loud, echoing click.

"I think we already have," Harry murmured.

        *        *        *

They didn't discuss the previous night's events or the faculty hearing until late the next day. Harry had managed to get hold of Colin before breakfast and inform him of the plan's apparent success, but the daily routine of classes and schoolwork occupied his mind until they were all seated at the table in the Great Hall.

Colin was over at the Hufflepuff table, talking earnestly to a pretty, snub-nosed girl whose name Harry didn't know. He'd seen them working together on Muggle Studies assignments. It was likely that they were class partners, or something like that. But it was just as well that he wasn't eating with them--Colin was still a valuable part of the plan. The last resort, so to speak.

He reached for the mustard pot, and used the opportunity to secretly study his friends.

Neville's had just come from the greenhouses, and his fingernails were caked with dirt from some extra-credit repotting he had volunteered for in Herbology. He was being very careful with his hands; he wanted to avoid a mouth full of loam and potting soil.

Ron and Ginny were unusually quiet. Ron certainly wasn't eating as much as he had the night before. In fact, he was taking less food than usual, and wasn't stealing choice bits from his sister's plate. Ginny had also taken smaller portions than normal, but kept complaining of thirst. She had downed almost an entire pitcher of water, and half a pitcher of pumpkin juice as well.

Hermione's appetite, on the other hand, had returned. Just then, she was tucking into the evening's pudding, a rich, cinnamony apple tart, with gusto.

A spicy tingling under his nose brought him out of his musings. He recalled that he had taken the mustard pot for a reason, and hastily smeared a thick layer of the condiment on his slab of roast beef.

As he returned the pot to its place beside the salt cellar, he darted a glance down the table. Natalie was calmly finishing her meal at the opposite end. Her roommates surrounded her. chatting and laughing over something one of them had said.

No sign of nerves on that end.

To prolong the meal, the five of them took numerous but small helpings of food. A potato here, a slice of bread there, the odd candied fruit. They hadn't planned it deliberately, but soon enough they were the only ones left sitting at the Gryffindor table.

Some of the Slytherin and Hufflepuff students had stayed behind as well. There were enough students remaining in the Hall to allow for quiet conversation, but they were all under the hooded yet watchful eyes of Professor Snape, who was lingering over a goblet of wine at the Head Table.

As a prelude to discussion, Ron poked Hermione with the end of his spoon that wasn't sticky.

"Ready?" he said around a mouthful of apple and cream.

She wiped her lips daintily with her napkin. "Ready as I'll ever be."

"I wish we could come with you," said Ginny.

Neville nodded. "So do I. There's--there's something about this that I don't like."

"Well, this is a change." Ron leaned back in his chair. "You trying to take over Harry's job? He's the one with the creepy visions."

Neville frowned. "That's not funny."

"I know it's not," Ron bristled. "It's just...just...oh, what's that Muggle phrase?"

"Whistling in the dark?" Harry suggested facetiously.

Ron didn't notice the sarcasm. "Whatever. Something like that."

Neville's frown deepened. "I know I wasn't in the room, so I probably missed something, but...."

"But what?" Harry pressed.

"I still I don't understand why she agreed to own up all of a sudden."

"You know, I was thinking that, too," Ginny said. "Didn't any of you think it was a bit too...quick?"

Harry used a piece of bread to soak up the juices on his plate. "She certainly didn't panic."

"Maybe she's got something up her sleeve," Ron said, eyes narrowing.

"No," Hermione said confidently. "She would have used it by now, and don't you think we'd have heard about it if she had?"

"Maybe she told McGonagall on us," Neville offered, fidgeting in his chair.

"It's her word against ours," Harry said.

"Exactly." Hermione viciously speared a gooey apple with her fork and dumped most of the pitcher of cream over her plate. "That's probably why she did it in the first place. She thought she could get away with it."

Harry glanced up sharply. "You don't believe what she said?"

Her hand paused in mid-air. The chunk of apple fell from her fork and landed on her plate with a wet plop.

"I don't know what I believe," she said, calm once more.

Ron tossed down his pumpkin juice. "What *I* can't believe is that you agreed to plead for her. After what she did?"

Hermione mopped at the front of her robe with her napkin and said nothing.

Ginny propped her elbows on the table. "Do you think McGonagall will listen?"

"Natalie seemed to think so," Harry remarked.

Ron grunted. "Even if McGonagall agrees, that doesn't mean Sprout or Flitwick will. Not to mention Snape," he said, casting a glance at the Head Table.

Hermione flashed him a easy smile. "It'll all work out in the end, Ron. Trust me."

Something in the tone of her voice bothered Harry, though he couldn't pinpoint what bothered him. He made a mental note to ask her about it later.

"And anyway," she continued, "I think she'll be all too glad to own up. Better to do it yourself than run the risk of having someone else do it for you. She can tell her side of the story, that way."

"Play the innocent," Ginny said sagely, nodding as if she knew exactly what Hermione meant.

"What would you have done if she hadn't confessed?" Neville was looking at Harry, though he seemed to be directing the question to Hermione.

"Exactly what I said," Harry declared before Hermione could speak. "I'd have found Colin and told him to give McGonagall the pieces of Hermione's paper. His story'd be as believable as any of ours."

Neville looked troubled. "But it would only be a story. There wouldn't be any proof that she cheated."

"There wouldn't be any proof he was lying, either," Ron said. "We want doubt, that's all."

"That doesn't change the fact that we lied to her," Neville said stubbornly.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "So? What of it?"

"She lied to us first," Ron said defensively.

Neville looked down at his plate. When he spoke, his voice was soft and sad. "So does that make us right?"

An awkward silence fell upon the table. None of them knew what to say. Ron stared intently at the viscous, muddy puddle of cinnamon and apple mush and cream in his bowl as if it was a scrying device that would reveal a suitable reply.

Harry checked his watch. "It's time."

As one, they got up from the table and pushed in their chairs. Snape drained his goblet and stood as well, handing his napkin to the bobbing house elf that appeared at his side.

The five students left the Great Hall, headed for the Transfiguration classroom. Snape followed them at a moderate but regular distance. Through the fabric of his robes, Harry could feel the little white stone growing colder by the minute.

They stopped outside the classroom and bunched together, moving aside to allow Snape to enter first. He strolled up to them, robes flapping as they always did, appearing to be overcome with the sheer tedium of what promised to be an uneventful faculty meeting.

"Granger, Weasley," he murmured, his cold eyes brushing over them with the most cursory of glances. Harry, Ginny, and Neville might not have existed.

Stiffly, Ron and Hermione walked into the classroom. Through the open door, Harry saw that McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout were already in their seats--exactly as he had observed the night before. Natalie was sitting in the front of the room. He couldn't see who was next to her. Snape's billowing robes partially blocked his view.

Snape had turned around to shut and lock the door, and noticed that the little knot of Gryffindors had not moved.

"Well?" he said curtly.

The word hit Harry with a stinging jolt, like an electrical shock, and he found himself unintentionally blurting out:

"Could we come in, sir? For Hermione?"

A small corner of Snape's mouth quirked in one of his characteristic un-smiles. "Touching, Potter, if nauseating. But each student is allowed one other person as witness and counsel, not three. As I'm sure you know quite well."

"Oh, I know, sir." Harry's mind whirled. "But--"

"Yes?"

The idea that came to him was so perfect that it should have been accompanied by a angelic host singing the "Hallelujah Chorus" from Handel's 'Messiah'.

"But you see, sir, we were told that all of us should be there for her tonight. As an extra precaution, you see."

The un-smile went away. "And who told you that?"

Neville and Ginny pressed up against him, filling the space between him and Snape with their presence.

"Professor Stanton, sir," he said, all innocently bright green eyes magnified by glasses--and very, very meaningful voice.

For a second, Snape seemed to go some place very far-off. The light went out of his eyes, and with it went all of his usual pomposity and arrogance and condescending coldness. It left his face looking vacant and empty, like an old rubber mask.

"Would it be all right, sir?" Harry asked.

His voice brought Snape back from wherever he had been. Wordlessly, the Potions Master moved to one side, allowing them to enter the room.

Victory strutted and crowed inside Harry, preening itself like a rooster. It didn't happen often--best to enjoy it now, while he could.

But even though he had won the little contest of wills, he did not wish to push their luck. He and Neville and Ginny went to the last row of desks. They took their seats as unobtrusively as possible, picking up the chairs to stop them from making noise on the floor.

Snape hastened up to the front of the room and joined the four Heads of House on the teacher's dais. McGonagall looked as he approached, and in the same movement of her head noticed the newcomers at the back of the room. Her brow furrowed in suspicion, but the ridges smoothed out as Snape quickly leaned over and whispered in her ear.

When he had finished speaking and had taken his seat, she stood and fixed Harry, Ginny, and Neville with a steely eye.

"Before we begin these proceedings, I must demand that all who are not directly participating in this hearing remain silent. Any disturbance, no matter how minor, will result in severe and immediate disciplinary action."

Startled, Ron and Hermione turned around to discover who she was addressing. Natalie looked behind as well, as did the person who was sitting beside her. Harry blenched to find himself under the chilly scrutiny of Isolde Yeggersnell.

McGonagall rapped her knuckles on the table, bringing them all back to the subject at hand. She shuffled through a small stack of papers that lay in front of her on the desk.

"In light of evidence presented to me last night, the Heads of House have had to re-evaluate our position on this incident."

An excited quiver raced through Harry's guts. So Natalie had confessed after all. That made things a lot easier.

McGonagall continued. "There is nothing we want more than to bring this unfortunate matter to a fair and unbiased conclusion...."

As she droned on with talk of matters more legal and official than personal, Harry's hand slowly slid into the pocket where he kept the little stone. It was still bitterly cold--Snape wasn't that far from them, after all--so he did not dare to touch it. He held his hand as close to the stone as he could tolerate, and shut his eyes.

This time, he wanted the emotions more than the actual picture. He didn't know if it was possible to filter out the information he would receive, but it was worth a try. Emotions would be more telling than any words that would be said.

McGonagall's voice melted out of his mind. The inner artist went to work again.

First came the sketch of the room and its occupants--clearer and more sharply defined now that he was actually in the room. But without a warning, the emotions that he was seeking crashed into his unprepared mind, much stronger than they had been before.

Every person in the room had a distinct combination of emotions that surrounded him or her, bringing to mind Trelawney's dismal lectures on the colours and vagaries of his aura and the auras of his classmates. As they were sitting closest to him, Neville and Ginny's emotions were the first ones he could distinguish. They were two bunches of nervous energy. Great waves of suppressed fear and worry buffeted him. It was a struggle to adjust to the constant presence of anxiety, but he had to concentrate on the others in the room.

He directed his attention to the teachers at the head table. Sprout and Flitwick seemed to have similar feelings: a pulsating sympathy tempered by lurid streaks of half-ashamed relief. Most likely they were glad that the cause of the trouble wasn't the students of their house. Snape hadn't changed much since the night before. The sense of self-satisfied snideness was stronger, if anything, though there was also good deal of resentment that Harry suspected was directed at him. But the uncertainty that had been flickering around Professor McGonagall was gone, and her impartiality was no longer desperate. Only a few thin, grey lines of sadness marred what would have been the penultimate representation of Justice with her fiery sword.

Next, to Hermione and Ron. The flame of Ron's anger was still going strong, burning like one of those unquenchable candles used on Muggle birthday cakes. Hard to tell whether he was angry *at* someone or angry *for* someone, but then again it was always hard to tell with Ron. From Hermione, however, he got nothing. No sense of shame or embarrassment, none of the feelings that had registered in his mind last night. Determination, maybe, but not even a strong sense of that. She was a warm body in the room; that was all.

Lastly, for Isolde and Natalie. Isolde he dismissed at once: he might as well have tried to find out the feelings of a girl-shaped chunk of Waterford cut crystal. Natalie exuded the guilty shame that he had expected to find, but with it was...no. Again, the readings he was getting from her were too fuzzy to properly examine. Not blocked--only fuzzy.

Ginny's hand accidentally brushed his arm, bringing him back to himself with a jolt. He had returned just in time; McGonagall had sat down and the main part of the hearing was underway.

"Is there any further evidence that either of you wish to place before us?" she said perfunctorily. "I make this request now because after this no further evidence will be accepted by this committee."

In the other pocket of Harry's robe, the one that did not contain the frigid stone, was the charred piece of parchment.

He started to rise, but as he shifted his weight the stone came to rest on the side of his leg. Even through the layers of fabric the cold pierced him to the bone.

*STOP!* it seemed to shout. *STAY WHERE YOU ARE!*

Harry obeyed, gritting his teeth, breath whistling through his nose as he rubbed his leg to get rid of the burning shock of cold. Ginny gave him a concerned, fearful look, but both she and Neville stayed quite still. None of them wanted to be kicked out.

For the first time, Professor Sprout spoke.

"Miss McDonald. You have admitted to your Headmistress that you intentionally copied the work of another student--Hermione Granger-- and submitted it as your own?"

A brisk nod. "Yes, ma'am."

Professor Flitwick stood on tiptoe and addressed Natalie as well. "You have also admitted that you did so with the express intent of deceiving Professor Snape."

A more subdued nod. "Yes, sir."

"You have also admitted that Miss Granger's work was obtained without her permission and without her knowledge." Snape's voice held the loose, silky quality that spelled danger for all involved.

"Yes sir." There was no nod, and they had to strain to hear her.

With that round of questioning done, it seemed to be McGonagall's turn again. "And all of these statements are true?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Were they made under duress?" Snape asked. His dark eyes glittered thoughtfully, as if the prospect excited him.

Natalie's throat worked painfully. "S...sir?"

"Did someone force you to say them?" Sprout said with a patient, motherly smile.

To her credit, Natalie did not hesitate. "No, ma'am."

"Very well," McGonagall said. "If there are no further questions...?"

Her colleagues shook their heads.

"Very well," she repeated. "Miss Granger, Miss McDonald. Is there anything that either of you wish to say--before we announce our decision?"

Natalie got to her feet with difficulty, clinging to the table as a means of extra support. "I just wanted to tell Hermione that I...I'm very sorry, and...and I was very fortunate to have had her as my friend."

She sat down very quickly. The pretty little speech had taken a lot out of her.

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione stood up.

"I have nothing to say, Headmistress."

She sat down again.

Ginny gasped, and grabbed Harry's hand. Harry was too thunderstruck to pull away.

Natalie fell out of her chair in her haste to spring to her feet.

"Hermione!" she squealed. "You *promised*!"

"Is there something wrong, Miss McDonald?" McGonagall said, more than a little alarmed by the outburst.

Natalie could not get past the first few words of what she wanted to say. "S-she...she promised that...she PROMISED...."

Hermione shrugged. "I really don't know what she's talking about, ma'am."

"Hermione--" Natalie begged, but Snape cut her off coldly.

"You will be silent, Miss McDonald, and return to your seat."

There was no need for prompting. Natalie's legs gave out completely, and it was only by good fortune that she landed in her chair. She lay crooked in the chair like a puppet that had had all of its strings cut and had been tossed aside.

"You are certain that you do not know what she is talking about, Miss Granger?" McGonagall asked.

"Yes, ma'am. I can't imagine what she means."

It was impossible to tell which was worse--the barefaced lie or the sincere and honest way that Hermione had told it.

The Heads of House leaned together, conferring in murmurs and whispers.

Harry could not comprehend what he had just heard. From the look of things, no one else could quite believe it, either. At the front of the room, Ron was sitting very upright, frozen in place. There was no need to see his face to imagine his expression. Neville's mouth kept opening and shutting; gawping like a landed fish. Ginny had let go of his hand, but she too was sitting very straight in her chair. The skin around her mouth was taut and rigid.

The conference ended, and McGonagall stood again. She held a long roll of parchment in her hand, and Harry saw the dark shadow near the bottom that indicated the presence of an official stamp or seal.

She adjusted her glasses, and began to read from the parchment in a loud, clear voice.

"We the undersigned, having duly examined the evidence and testimony concerning this incident of suspected plagiarism, hereby conclude that Natalie McDonald, second year student of Gryffindor House, is guilty of wilfully and knowingly plagiarising another student's work.

"Since the act of plagiarism is a gross violation of the code of behaviour that governs this institution, we therefore have reached the unanimous decision that the said Miss McDonald will be summarily sent down from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for the remainder of the school year. Miss McDonald will be suspended from classes for the following week, removed from residence in Gryffindor Tower for the same time period, and will be returned to her family by the Hogwarts Express at the start of the upcoming Easter holiday.

"Reinstatement will be contingent upon the decision of a further Faculty Hearing to be held at a later date. This committee's decision will be noted in the student files. Copies to Records, etcetera.

"Signed, Minerva McGonagall--Headmistress, Head of Gryffindor House."

With a dry rustle of robes and an equally dry expression on his face, Professor Snape stood. "Severus Snape--Head of Slytherin House."

Professor Sprout stood. "Saxifragia Sprout--Head of Hufflepuff House."

Professor Flitwick was already standing, but that did not make his pronouncement any less final. "Filius Flitwick--Head of Ravenclaw House."

Natalie fainted, landing on the stone floor with a dull thud. Sprout, who was standing closest to her, hurried to kneel by her side. She patted the fallen girl's cheek with a firm, light touch in an attempt to bring her round.

"Saxifragia," McGonagall said, "would you please escort her to the guest quarters in the South wing when she wakes? She will be staying there for the next week. I'll have house elves fetch her belongings and deliver them tonight."

"Certainly, Minerva." Sprout continued her efforts. "Come along, now, wake up." She turned to Isolde. "Miss Yeggersnell, if you wouldn't mind...?"

Isolde looked to McGonagall, and asked, "Professor, could I have a glass of water, please?"

McGonagall looked around the table, then settled on a small round glass paperweight near the desk blotter. With a tap of her wand, she Transfigured the paperweight into a glass of water. Isolde took the glass and unemotionally poured its contents over Natalie's head.

The unconscious girl came to with a gurgling scream, and she began to cry. The dangling sleeves of Sprout's work robe soon soaked up the excess water, and together with Isolde she half-led, half-carried Natalie from the room. McGonagall took the empty glass and returned it to its former state.

Snape, apparently convinced that his part in the proceedings had come to an end, swept out of the room. As before, he paid no attention to the three Gryffindors seated in the back.

Harry was numb all over. He had the feeling that he had just witnessed something horrific but unstoppable, like a car smash or a train wreck. The numbness stayed with him as McGonagall and Flitwick gathered their belongings and papers. It stayed with him as Hermione and Ron stood to bid the professors goodnight and see them out. And it was still there when Hermione and Ron joined the three of them at the back of the room.

"Whew!" Hermione breathed. "I'm glad that's over." The stress and nervous tension that had haunted her face for the past two weeks had vanished, and she was back to her old self once more. She gave Ron a big hug. "Thanks, Ron."

Ron looked like he had been forced to swallow a Bludger whole. He returned the hug with wooden arms.

Hermione then turned to Harry, Ginny, and Neville. "And thank all of you, too, for coming. I don't know what you said to Snape to make him let you stay, but thank you. It meant a lot to me to have you here." She yawned and stretched. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to take a very long and scalding hot bath with plenty of bubbles." And she started to walk to the door.

Harry's arm shot out of its own volition and grabbed her before she could take two paces. Roughly, he pulled her backward.

"Ow, Harry, let go!" she squeaked, twisting her body. "You're hurting me!"

He tightened his grip. "Hermione...*why*?"

Hermione stopped struggling, and smiled at him. Both her smile and her eyes were bland, calm, and utterly without remorse.

"I already told you, Harry," she said. "No one makes a fool of Hermione Granger. No one."

She gently pried Harry's slack hand off her arm, turned on her heel, and walked out of the room.

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Gramarye [email protected] http://gramarye.freehosting.net/ June 15th, 2002