The Legacy of the Founders

THE LEGACY OF THE FOUNDERS

Chapter Five: The Stranger

"Did you get them?" Hermione asked the moment Ron had opened the door to Myrtle's bathroom.

"Five jars of Elemental Sand, just the way you like them," said Ron, carrying the jars Hermione had given him over to the cauldron and setting them on the floor. They were no longer empty, though; instead held small amounts of coloured powder. "They even come in different flavours," said Ron.

"There wasn't any trouble?" Hermione inquired.

"Well, I knocked over Snape's shrake oil, but I managed to get most of it back in the vial. Might have been his hair gel, though."

Hermione smiled to herself and began opening the jars Ron had brought her. She had never worked with Elemental Sands before - they were too advanced even for seventh years - but she had read everything she could about them in preparation, and felt confident that she at least wouldn't blow anything up. "I hope you didn't take too much," she said as she screwed off the final lid.

"Nah, just a few pinches," said Ron, kneeling beside the cauldron.

"Okay," said Hermione, peering down at the book sitting open in front of her. "We have to add them in the right order, so it goes: yellow, red, blue, green, black. You got that?"

"Not in the slightest," said Ron, as Hermione began adding the yellow powder. Soon, as she added each consecutive Sand, the mixture inside the cauldron turned into a rainbow swirl with the odd beetle eye or shrivelfig leaf visible. "Okay," Hermione said, putting down the last empty jar and dusting her hands over the cauldron. "It's ready."

"Ready?" said Ron sceptically. "Shouldn't there be...flames or something?"

"Not yet," said Hermione. "I have to say an incantation first, but we'll wait until the others get back with the stone to do that."

"Right," said Ron. "So - uh - what do we do until then?"

Hermione exhaled a thoughtful breath and looked up at the ceiling for a moment. "Wanna throw toilet paper at the wall?"

Ron shrugged. "Why not?"

* * *

Harry was the first to step inside the Chamber. He made a cursory sweep of the room with his wandlight and, finding nothing moving inside, turned back to Ginny. She was holding her arms against her chest and looking up at the ceiling, which was lost in darkness. Harry quickly shone his light at the roof to show her that it was bare, then looked down again. Ginny stared at her feet, which were resting just outside the Chamber, and with a visible effort, she stepped over the threshold.

"It's empty," Harry said reassuringly, although he didn't think Ginny heard him. She walked forward and came to stand beside him, trembling slightly. They heard an impressed whistle from behind them.

"Now this is more like it," said Draco, gazing around the chamber with approving eyes. They roamed over the bare stone walls, the enormous pillars wrapped around with sculpted snakes, and finally, the towering statue of Salazar Slytherin at the far end. "And there's my great, great, great, great grandfather." He tilted his head to the side and fixed the statue with a quizzical expression. "Apparently, the astonishing good looks are a Malfoy-only trait."

Harry ignored him and turned back to the chamber. "I guess we'd better start looking for the stone," he said. "Ginny and I will look over here and you--"

"Urgh!" said Draco with disgust. He had taken several steps forward and instantly screwed up his face. "What is that smell?"

Harry and Ginny both sniffed the air and grimaced unpleasantly. "I don't know," said Harry, pinching his nose closed.

Draco turned to Ginny. "Was it you, Weasley?" Ginny scowled back furiously.

"Leave her alone," Harry said automatically, and looked around the chamber once more. He walked in the direction Draco had started in, with Ginny following close behind, and soon, as the shadows parted, he saw something lying against the wall. Something big.

Harry jumped back immediately. His heart began to hammer painfully against his ribcage and his entire body went numb with shock. Beside him, Ginny let out a frightened squeal. But Harry expected the thing to move, and when it didn't, he calmed his nerves and took another tentative step forward. It's dead, he realised.

"That," said Draco, drawing level with Harry and Ginny, "is the second biggest snake I've ever seen."

"That's the basilisk," said Harry. "Slytherin's monster."

"That's the basilisk?" Draco said incredulously. He pinched his nostrils shut and approached the carcass without fear. "Jesus, Potter, what'd you do to the poor bastard?"

Harry and Ginny moved closer. It was obvious that the basilisk had been decaying all these years; its corpse was sallow and bloated, its skin swarming with insects, and the gashes around its eyes were crusty with congealed blood. The ground beside its head was also stained a dark, permanent purple and two dried streaks of blood ran from the snake's rotted eye sockets. Harry felt like throwing up. "It wasn't just me," he said hoarsely. "Fawkes helped."

"Fawkes?" said Draco, his voice slightly nasal. "Dumbledore's phoenix? I knew you were taking the credit for someone else, Potter."

"He's not," Ginny said firmly, as though she resented the comment. "Harry stabbed it with a sword."

"I should say he did," said Draco. He turned away from the basilisk's corpse and walked to the other end of the chamber. "What do you say we start looking for this stone, ey?" And he began searching the corners of the room with his wandlight, crouching low to inspect them properly.

Harry followed him to the other end of the chamber, careful not to let Ginny out of his sight, and stopped in front of the statue of Slytherin. His heart began to beat faster. This is where he'd seen her, lying crumpled and unconscious, red hair strewn around her head like a river of blood. He remembered picking her up in his arms, wishing, hoping, praying that she wasn't dead. And how pale she'd been, her head lolling hopelessly from side to side as Harry tried to wake her. He looked sideways now, at Ginny, and was overcome by such a profound feeling of relief that he almost choked on it. "Are you okay?" he asked. Ginny was gazing at the same spot that Harry had been. She nodded absently-mindedly, without looking at him. "Ginny?"

Her name seemed to jolt her out of her reverie; she turned towards him as though she was surprised to find him there. "Harry," she said, almost entirely to herself.

"Are you okay?" Harry repeated.

Ginny nodded - too vigorously. Harry was worried about her, but he knew the best way to help her would be to find the stone so that they could get out of here as soon as possible. So he gazed up at the statue of Slytherin, and sighed. "Well, there's only one place it can be, really." He hoisted himself up onto the pedestal that supported the statue and craned his neck to see further up. Slytherin's hands were joined together, as though he was carrying something, and Harry was willing to bet that that something was the stone. "Wait here," he said to Ginny. "I'll be right back." She nodded and smiled bravely as Harry began to climb.

There weren't many footholds on which to gain purchase, so it was slow going, but soon he managed to perch himself on a sculpted chain hanging from Slytherin's pocket, and look at the statues hands. They were empty; palms up and lying flat, but empty all the same.

"Anything?" came Draco's voice from below.

"No," Harry called back. With his tongue stuck thoughtfully between his teeth, he gazed further up to where the dark wizard's face was. It was so high up that it was mostly obscured by shadow, and escaped Harry's attempt to illuminate it with his wand. "It could be in the eye sockets," he said, thinking that they looked a little hollow. He was only really guessing though.

"Toss your wand up," Draco called out from below.

"You toss your wand up," said Harry, who had become rather protective of his own over the years.

"Fat chance," said Draco. "This wand's been in my family for generations. It's irreplaceable."

Harry sighed in frustration and looked up once more. He judged the distance to Slytherin's face, and then, leaning out slightly, threw his wand upwards. It spun end over end towards the roof, illuminating Slytherin's chest, his neck, his yawning mouth (which was still hanging open from all those years ago, when the basilisk had emerged from it) and finally, his eyes. They were creepy, Harry thought, but also solid. "Nothing," he said, as his wand clattered to the ground below. Ginny quickly retrieved it and held it for him as he descended the statue. He jumped down from the pedestal once he reached it and dusted off his jeans. "Thanks," he said, as Ginny handed him his wand.

"Great," said Draco, sounding thoroughly vexed. "I knew that stupid book was wrong. I mean, where could you possibly hide something in this place? All there is is a lot of giant pillars, an ugly statue and a great big...." He slowly trailed off, and turned to looked pointedly at Harry. Harry stared right back. Then, slowly, all three pairs of eyes swivelled around and came to rest on the basilisk corpse. "Oh, no," said Draco. "Please tell me it isn't."

But Harry was full of excitement. "It must be," he said keenly. "Isn't that what all evil geniuses do - hide their secret possessions inside their evil pet monsters? It's like a rule."

Draco groaned. "Why can't good hygiene ever be a rule?"

Harry approached the basilisk's corpse once more and surveyed it thoughtfully. The others came to stand behind him, though they kept their distance. "Well," he said, "it's already pretty decomposed, so it shouldn't be too hard to find it. I'm guessing it's in the stomach...."

"In the stomach?" Draco coughed in disbelief.

Harry ignored him and walked further down the snake to where he supposed its stomach might be. "Maybe I can just..." he said, and trailed off as he lifted his wand. "Reducto!"

SPLAT!

A small section of the snake's flesh, soft as it was, exploded outwards and splashed all over Harry. He flinched back and screwed his eyes shut reflexively. After a moment, he opened them again and looked down at himself. He was covered from head to toe in bits of mottled basilisk tissue, and dripping with purple blood. He expected the other two - Draco at the very least - to burst out laughing, but they remained silent. When he turned around, he found out why. They had obviously followed him to the middle of the snake.

"You - absolute - prat!" Draco exclaimed, looking down at himself in horror. He, like Harry, was covered in the basilisk's purple blood, though he seemed to have escaped the ragged bits of flesh. He raised his hand and swept a wad of gunk out of his eye, then flicked it to the floor. "I... am going to kill you for this," he said furiously, "after you buy me a new shirt!"

Harry ignored Draco's temper and turned to Ginny instead, who looked just as bad. "I'm sorry," he said guiltily.

"It's okay," said Ginny, trying to look as though she had no problem with being covered in basilisk blood.

"I just...I thought...." Harry spluttered.

"Oh, you thought did you?" snapped Draco. "Well, that's funny because I was under the impression that you skipped that part of the cognitive process!" He continued to glare angrily at Harry. "'Maybe if I just Reducto it' - honestly!"

Harry sighed and turned back to the basilisk. "Well, how are we going to get it out then? I blasted a hole in it, but I don't think I got through to the stomach."

"What a shame," said Draco, his voice dripping sarcasm. "I was so looking forward to being covered with bits of half-digested rats too." He pushed roughly past Harry and crouched down in front of the open wound. "I'll do it," he said impatiently, and held his hand out to Harry. "Give me your wand."

"Why?" said Harry. "Use your own wand."

"I'm not sticking my wand in there!" Draco said heatedly, as though he was sure Harry was crazy. "Do you have any idea how much this cost?"

"I thought you said it's been in your family for generations?" Harry demanded crossly.

"It has," said Draco, looking shifty. "One of them."

Harry glared at him. "Generations is plural."

Draco's eyes widened. "Is it?" he said, his voice saturated with fake astonishment. Harry rolled his eyes. Here we go. "I did not know that," Draco continued. "I thought the 's' was silent, you see. But it all makes sense now. Thank you, Potter - you've opened my eyes." Harry rolled his again. "Look," said Draco, all pretence of gratitude vanishing in the blink of an eye, "do you want this stone or not?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"Then cut the English lessons and give me your bloody wand!"

Harry sighed exasperatedly and handed his wand to Draco, who snatched it from his grip. He then turned to Ginny with raised eyebrows and a smile. She giggled back.

They both watched as Draco stuck Harry's wand inside the basilisk's body and let it rest against a section of discoloured muscle. "Diffindo exactus," he muttered, and began dragging the wand down. The flesh parted cleanly beneath the tip, as though Draco was slicing it open with a scalpel. The smell became worse, but thankfully Draco didn't complain. "There," he said, standing up to admire his handiwork. "Now all you have to do is stick your hand inside and grab the stone."

"Me?" Harry exclaimed. "Why don't you do it?"

Draco just looked at him. "If you think I'm going to put my hand inside a partly-decayed, five-tonne snake, then you must have been dropped at birth."

Harry sighed irritably. "You know, you could start doing something for once! It was your bright idea to come with us and all you've done is complain and whinge about your stupid clothes. You're like an old woman."

Draco looked outraged. "An old woman!" he roared. "You'd better watch your tongue, Potter, if you want to--" But he didn't finish, because, with an impatient sigh, Ginny pushed past them both, knelt down on the floor and stuck her entire arm inside the basilisk.

Harry and Draco goggled at her in stunned silence. Her arm was in up to the shoulder and her face was turned to the side, barely an inch away from the snake's scales. Nevertheless, she was probing around inside, with her tongue between her teeth and an expression of intense concentration on her face. Harry looked over at Draco, who was wearing the same the look of respect that he was.

It took another minute before Ginny withdrew her arm, which now looked as though it had been dipped in purple ink. "Is this it?" she asked, getting to her feet and holding something out to Harry. He didn't take it, but he could tell just by looking at it that it was Slytherin's stone. It was about twice the size of a Snitch, and although it was now covered in the basilisk's purple blood, Harry could tell that it was a dark green gemstone, like an emerald. "It must be," he said, looking up at Ginny with a smile. "Good job." Ginny flushed all the way to the tips of her ears.

"Well," said Draco, collecting himself up again, "I think we've got everything we came for. So what do you say we get the hell out of this stink hole?"

"Okay," said Harry, letting Draco lead the way back to the entrance. Ginny went next and Harry walked behind her, keeping a wary eye on her back. Was she really okay? He had expected her to take their return to the chamber worse than this, but she seemed fine. When she reached the other end of the room, however, she paused in front of Slytherin's statue and stared at the space between his feet, where Tom had put her. Harry stopped behind her whilst Draco, glancing back briefly, continued into the tunnel.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked gingerly.

Ginny turned around with a smile on her face. "Yeah." Harry's heart swelled at her expression, to think that she had faced her fears and emerged happier for it. Hopefully Tom would no longer plague her dreams and she would be able to forget about the chamber once and for all. Seeing her smile like that, Harry thought he might be able to forget about it too. "Come on," he said, smiling back, "let's go."

* * *

"YES!" hollered Ron, raising both arms above his head. "Twelve seconds and a new record. Eat that, Hermione." He turned towards her with a grin and, like her, paled as soon as he noticed the others in the room. The wad of toilet paper he'd thrown at the wall fell to the floor with a wet thwack. "Oh," he said, his ears turning pink, "you're back. Er - we were just - um...."

"Getting in touch with your juvenile side?" Draco suggested. The rest of Ron's face turned pink.

Hermione scrambled quickly to her feet and attempted to compose herself, but a moment later she was gaping at Harry, Draco and Ginny, who, she noticed, were all covered in dark purple slime. "What happened?" she asked, her mouth hanging open.

"What happened?" Draco echoed sourly as he stalked to the other side of the room. "Potter blew up a snake, that's what happened." He leaned against the wall and folded his arms with a scowl. Somehow, despite being covered in a thick, glutinous goo, he still managed to look graceful. Just barely though.

"You blew up a snake?" Hermione asked, turning to Harry with her eyebrows raised.

"I didn't blow it up," Harry replied indignantly. "We had to cut it open to get the stone."

"What do you mean?" said Ron, pushing himself up from his knees.

Harry sighed. "The stone was inside the basilisk."

"Inside the basilisk?" said Hermione. Harry nodded. "Wow, that's... kind of clever."

Harry glared at her, so she quickly turned away from him. "Oh, Ginny - what happened to your arm?" Although all three of them were splattered with the basilisk's blood, Ginny's arm appeared to have been dipped in it.

"Oh, I - um - had to get the stone out," Ginny replied timidly.

"Why didn't one of the boys do it?" Hermione demanded.

"They were arguing," said Ginny, with a small smile.

Hermione scoffed. "So much for chivalry. So do you have it?" Ginny nodded and held the stone out to her. "Er - maybe you should hold on to it," Hermione suggested, cringing at the sight of the blood clinging to it. She was, nevertheless, intensely curious to see it, so she inspected it as best she could before kneeling in front of the cauldron again. The others crowded around her, all except Draco, who continued to lean against the wall and glare grudgingly at Harry. "Now, I have to say an incantation," Hermione told them, a little apprehensively, "and it's in Latin - so don't laugh." When no one made any response, she turned self-consciously back to the cauldron, cleared her throat and began reading from the book.

"Exorere, Flamma Vitae. Prodi ex - hey!" Everyone in the room was shaking with laughter, and Ron was producing a number of unflattering snorts.

"Sorry," said Harry, quelling his laughter with a cough and a sniff. "You just sound really stupid."

Hermione glared at him. "Well, unless you'd rather we keep the stone and wait until Voldemort comes and takes it, I suggest you let me get on with it."

"Right," said Ron, coughing too. "Go on, we won't laugh this time."

Hermione gave Ron and Harry a distrustful look and turned back to the cauldron. With a deep breath, she began again. "Exorere, Flamma Vitae. Prodi ex loco tuo elementorum, in hunc mundum vivorum."

She let the words fade and silence ensued once more. "Did it work?" asked Ron.

"Three times!" Hermione snapped irritably. "I have to say it three times."

Ron, looking wary of her temper, took a step back. Hermione let out a long, calming sigh and turned back to the book. "Exorere, Flamma Vitae. Prodi ex loco tuo elementorum, in hunc mundum vivorum." She let the words sink in once more, then spoke them again. "Exorere, Flamma Vitae. Prodi ex loco tuo elementorum, in hunc mundum viv--" She broke off, as at that moment a loud bang sounded in the empty bathroom and a bright red spark cracked inside the cauldron. Harry and Ron leapt back, Ginny screamed in fright and Hermione fell backwards; only Draco was able to keep his composure - he flinched only slightly. Slowly, all five of them crept forward and peered inside the cauldron.

At the bottom, a dark red flame was burning; the colour of light shining through a ruby. The fire was licking at the sides of the cauldron, as though it was trying to claw its way out, and the sound it made was like no ordinary fire - instead of a soft crackle it was uttering an eerie hiss that filled the entire bathroom. It sounded as though a snake was burning in the middle of the flames.

"Wow," said Ron, gazing into the depths of the cauldron, "that is pretty cool."

Hermione clambered to her feet again, before Draco could see her sitting on the floor, and turned to Ginny. "All you have to do is drop the stone inside," she said. "The fire will immolate it and it'll be destroyed. But don't touch the flames, whatever you do."

"Why not?" asked Ron.

"You don't want to know," Hermione replied grimly.

Ginny looked first at Harry, for reassurance. When he smiled encouragingly and nodded, she stepped up to the cauldron and held out her hand, the stone clutched in her palm. Hermione was sure Harry would have done it for her, but she had the feeling that by letting Ginny do it, he was making sure that she felt needed and important to what they were doing. It made Hermione proud of him.

Holding her hand far above the tips of the flames, which had leapt up hungrily once Ginny put her arm over them, she released her grip on the stone and let it fall into the cauldron. The flames instantly consumed it and began to hiss louder than ever. In the blood-red centre of the fire Hermione could see the gemstone melting, as no ordinary gemstone ever would. It was like watching a pack of wild beasts devour their prey.

Everyone was watching the spectacle with grave expressions, and by the time the stone had completely melted and the flames had died down again, Hermione realised that they were all thinking the same thing. "This was too easy," said Harry, looking up.

Ron nodded slowly, still watching the flames, and beside Harry, Ginny looked nervous. "Well, that's because we all did our part and acted before Voldemort had a chance to," Hermione said positively. "I think it's nice that something went smoothly for once." She could tell, however, that none of them were convinced, and wasn't sure if she was either.

"You know what this means," said Draco, as a statement rather than a question. He was looking at Harry.

"He'll know," said Harry.

"I was actually thinking of our scars," Draco clarified. "They'll burn like hell once he finds out."

Harry said nothing, but Hermione could tell he was worried. Ginny was gazing up at him with an anxious expression, as though she wanted to put her arms around him.

"Well, I think it's time for lunch," Hermione said bracingly. "And we have to figure out what we're doing tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" said Ron, looking confused. The others all wore the same expression.

"Christmas!" Hermione reminded them forcefully.

"Oh, right."

"Honestly...."

She turned around and noticed that Draco had retreated into himself; she could almost hear the sound of his barriers crashing down again. She wondered whether she should ask him to join them again, but she still had no delusions about whether Draco would accept the invitation. And he didn't look all that bothered by it - just slightly uncomfortable. Oh, well, thought Hermione. That's only for the presents. I'm sure I'll see him during the day. And there was always the feast to look forward to.

"I'd better extinguish the fire," Hermione said, withdrawing a large, water-filled vial from her pocket.

"Ooh, is that Living Water?" Ron asked.

"No," said Hermione, screwing the top off and dousing the fire. "Extinguishing Draught."

"Oh," said Ron, with disappointment.

The fire let out a rather agonised hiss as it expired, and soon all that was left was the empty cauldron. "Hey, no cleaning up," Ron said brightly as he looked into the cauldron.

"The fire consumes the ingredients," Hermione explained, pocketing her vial again. "So who's carrying the cauldron?"

"Not me."

"Not me."

"Not me."

Hermione looked around sternly.

"Can we hurry this up?" said Draco, who was looking over Hermione's shoulder in dismay.

"Why?"

"Because," said Draco, "Myrtle's back."

* * *

Ginny's heart felt lighter than it had in years. She had been down to the Chamber of Secrets again and conquered her fears, and now she was free to forget about Tom and his callous betrayal. And what was more, she had held Harry's hand! Oh, how wonderful that had been - it made her smile just to remember it.

If only Draco hadn't interrupted them. She and Harry had been looking right into each other's eyes, sparks of energy flying between them and something like recognition burning in Harry's gaze. At least, that's what Ginny thought it might have been - that Harry had finally realised how she felt about him and looked deep inside himself to see if he felt the same way. Of course, Ginny still didn't know whether he did - or even if he'd actually registered her feelings - because stupid Malfoy had spoiled the moment with his stupid jokes. Still, she was grateful that he'd come along, because his levity made her feel less tense and frightened, and showed her the Chamber in a whole new light. It seemed much smaller now than it had in her first year. Her dreams had been so exaggerated!

But she had been in her room for more than an hour now, replaying that moment in the cave with Harry over and over again, so she supposed she'd better go down to the common room and socialise a little. She pushed herself out of bed, wondering why the sky outside looked so miserable when it was such a beautiful day, and went downstairs.

Harry was asleep on one of the couches. He was always the first thing Ginny looked for when she entered a room, and today was no different. She took advantage of his slumber to watch him for a while; his face looked open and serene when he slept, free of the darkness that tainted it when he was awake. And Ginny liked the way his hair hung around his head, so wild and untamed and black as night. She smiled broadly and felt a familiar flutter in her chest.

"Mmmph," Harry mumbled, and opened his eyes.

Ginny's own eyes flew wide open and she quickly spun around to leave, but walked smack into a wall instead. "Ow!" She clapped her hand over her nose and bit back tears, of both the pain and humiliation variety.

"Ginny," Harry said groggily, obviously stirring. Please no, Ginny thought desperately. Go back to sleep. "Are you all right?"

"Uh, yeah," Ginny said, her voice muffled by her hand and the bump to her nose. She was also still facing the wall. "I'm fine." But Harry obviously didn't believe her. He came over and stood beside her, tilting his head to see her face. "Did you hurt your nose?"

Ginny looked sideways, with both hands covering her nose, and shook her head. "Just - um - I just have a cold." She pretended to sneeze.

"Oh. Well, do you want me to go to Madam Pomfrey for some Pepper Up potion?"

"No," Ginny replied hastily. "It's- it's not serious. I'll just go and lie down for a while."

"Okay," Harry said slowly. Without another word, Ginny turned around and bolted up the girls' staircase. She ran into her room when she reached it and collapsed facedown on her bed, groaning into her quilt. "I am such an idiot," she said aloud. She turned aside to look out her window, and suddenly knew exactly how the sky felt.

* * *

After Harry had finally convinced himself that there was nothing wrong with Ginny - at least, nothing that Madam Pomfrey could fix - he shrugged on his cloak and trekked down to Hagrid's hut to visit Sirius. His godfather greeted him amiably at the door and let him inside, where a giant-sized fire was raging in the fireplace. "How are you, Harry?" Sirius asked him as he rubbed his hands together.

"I'm good," said Harry, taking a seat on one of the couches. It felt strange to have engaged in something so important this morning and yet keep everyone else in the dark about it. Usually, after Harry emerged from one of his Voldemort-related ordeals, he was required to retell his story, come to grips with whatever horrid things he had seen and face the fickle moods of a thousand nosy students. But now, life simply moved on and everyone - including Sirius - was none the wiser to their clever coup. It made Harry feel slightly guilty.

"So, looking forward to Christmas?" Sirius asked as he began to make tea. Harry had rarely seen him so cheerful. "Yeah," he replied.

"Wish I could come to the Feast," Sirius said despondently.

"Oh, we're raiding the kitchens before we come to see you, so don't worry," Harry assured him. Sirius grinned broadly. It was strange - and nice - to see his smiles reach his eyes. The eyes themselves still harboured the memories of Azkaban, but Harry didn't think that would ever change, so he was content to see that they were brighter than usual.

"And how are the others?" Sirius inquired, handing Harry a boiling hot cup of tea.

"They're good," said Harry, accepting the cup and sipping from it gingerly. "Thanks."

Sirius settled down on the opposite couch and drank his tea as though it were spring water. "And how are you?" he asked again, a graver tone in his voice. "Really, I mean."

"I'm fine," said Harry, emphasising his point with a smile. "Really."

"And your scar?"

"It's - uh...." Harry didn't think it would matter if he told Sirius his scar had been acting up. They all knew Voldemort was on the loose and it was bound to start hurting more frequently now that he was. So he finished truthfully, though he omitted any mention of his dreams.

"And you will go to Dumbledore if it starts to hurt badly...?" said Sirius, lowering his eyes in warning.

"Yes," Harry sighed.

Sirius smiled again, apparently satisfied. "Good." He drained the rest of his tea and set the cup down. "Are you planning on staying long?"

Harry paused mid-sip and looked up. Wasn't that a bit of a rude question to ask a guest? "No...why?"

"Because I was in the middle of wrapping your present."

Harry lowered his cup and tried to hide his smile. "Sirius, you didn't have to...."

"What do you mean?" said Sirius, incredulously. "Of course I had to. But more importantly - I wanted to. I have the gold, Harry, I just can't spend it very easily, being a wanted criminal and all."

Harry let a smile creep onto his face, and drained the rest of his tea.

"Right then," said Sirius, as he collected Harry's cup. "Now bugger off so I can figure out how to tie a bow."

* * *

It was getting late by the time Hermione returned to the common room. "Did you get the books back?" Ron asked her from his seat by the fire.

"Yep," said Hermione, sinking into the chair beside Ron. "I had to hide from Madam Pince for a while though. She wasn't as co-operative as last time." Ron yawned and turned to face the fire. "Where's Ginny?" Hermione inquired.

"In her room, I think - hiding from Harry."

Hermione smiled. "Those two are so cute together."

"Yeah," Ron snorted, "the incessant blushing is really adorable."

"It is," said Hermione. "Do you think she'll ever tell him?"

"Honestly?" said Ron. "I don't think she'll breathe a word unless someone else does it for her."

"Don't you dare," said Hermione, brandishing a menacing finger at him.

Ron just shrugged. "Well, someone should."

"No," said Hermione. "It doesn't work like that. You can't rely on other people to interfere with your relationships - you have to tell the people you love how you feel about them. And if Ginny really loves Harry, then she'll tell him."

Ron fell silent and gazed more intently into the fire. "I guess you're right."

"Of course I am," said Hermione, getting to her feet. "I think I'm going to go to bed."

"All right," said Ron, without looking at her.

"Thanks for your help with the potion today, as well," Hermione added.

Ron snorted cynically. "Yeah, I was really useful."

"You were," Hermione said earnestly. "You think I could've stolen those ingredients form Snape's office?"

"Of course you could have," said Ron, rather bitterly. "You took those books from the library, didn't you?"

"Yes, but if Madam Pince had caught me I would've been given detention. If Snape had caught you, he would have force-fed you every potion he has until your head exploded!"

"How would he catch me?" said Ron. "I had the Map!"

"Still," said Hermione desperately, "we couldn't have done it without you."

Ron made a sceptical noise and turned back to the fire. "Good night, Hermione." His tone brooked no further argument.

"Good night," Hermione muttered, and left the common room.

* * *

Draco was waiting for it. He was sitting up in bed, staring blankly at the far wall and counting the stones. When he got to twenty-seven, it happened. He clutched at his side as his scar started to burn with such intensity that he thought it would break open and start to bleed. The pain wasn't localised to his scar this time - it spread through his entire body like wildfire until even his toes felt as though they were burning. "Bloody hell!" he choked out as he fell sideways on his bed. He wondered briefly whether Harry was experiencing the same thing, but the pain quickly spread through his head and soon he had no attention to spare for Harry's well-being - not that he had much in the first place.

It was the same feeling he experienced when Dementors were near - as though he would never be happy again. Only instead of a biting cold spreading through his body, it was a blazing heat, so hot and painful that he was forced to grit his teeth to keep from crying out. But if his father couldn't make him scream, then Voldemort sure as hell wouldn't. Only that was a lie, because his father could make him scream.

It felt like hours until the pain subsided, and once it had Draco's entire body was numb. He pushed himself up with one hand, clutching his scar with the other, and rested his head against the cool stone wall behind him. "Bastard," he muttered, picturing Voldemort's ugly, bone-white face. "I hope you like that."

He breathed deeply until the feeling returned to his body and he could close his eyes at last. This brought him no respite though, and soon his mind was in as much agony as his body had been.

* * *

Harry gulped in several mouthfuls of air and finally opened his eyes. That was the worst pain he had ever felt. In all the years of sharing Voldemort's emotions - such as they were - he had never experienced such blinding anguish. It was like being tortured.

He sat up in bed and pulled on his glasses, the room sharpening into focus. The dormitory looked eerie when it was empty; the darkness clung to the corners and beneath the beds, and the curtains seemed to sway despite the fact that the window was closed. It unsettled Harry more than he would have liked, considering he had revisited the Chamber of Secrets only a few hours ago. He wondered whether Ginny was okay, and whether she was sleeping. Would she still dream of Tom now that she had been down to the Chamber and faced her fears? If she did, Harry didn't think he'd ever forgive himself.

* * *

Ginny was dreaming, and her heart sank when she saw where she was. Towering stone walls surrounded two rows of serpentine pillars; a bloated carcass (which had never appeared in her dreams before) lay at one end of the room; and at the other, a statue of an enormous man, whose eyes looked nothing like stone. She was facing the statue's feet, and she could feel a presence behind her. She spun around, and saw him standing there.

"Tom." He had his back to her, but there was no mistaking those pale hands and that unruly black hair. She had seen him so often before, and he looked just the same now. But when he turned around to face her, Ginny realised that it wasn't Tom at all. She saw green eyes instead of black, a kind smile instead of a malicious grin, and although his hair was dark and unkempt, he wasn't as pale as he had first appeared. "Harry?" Ginny said bewilderedly. "Where's Tom?"

"I killed him," Harry replied plainly.

"You did?"

He nodded. "He said to say that he's sorry. He didn't know how you felt about him."

"Does he know now?" Ginny asked.

"I'm not sure," said Harry, looking confused. "I think so." He turned around and looked towards the open doorway, then back at Ginny. "Come on, let's get out of here. It smells too much."

Ginny nodded and followed him. They left the Chamber and entered the black tunnel beyond, where Ginny could barely see a thing. The darkness pressed in around her, obscuring the ground and the walls and the ceiling; all she could see was Harry. She turned around to see where the Chamber was, but found that it had disappeared. When she turned back again, Harry was only a speck in the darkness. "Harry, wait!" she called out, and started running to catch up. "Harry!" But no matter how fast she ran, she never drew any closer. And Harry just kept walking, always ahead of her, always unreachable.

* * *

When Harry woke on Christmas morning, he was surprised to see that it was bright and sunny outside, even though the grounds were covered in snow. It would melt soon, he supposed, but at the moment the landscape looked like a wonderful contradiction of climates. He stepped lazily out of bed and took his time to get dressed, then collected the presents at the foot of his bed, plus the ones he had for Hermione, Ron and Ginny, and headed down to the common room. Only Ginny was there when he arrived, sitting in an armchair by the fire with her legs drawn up. "Hey, Gin," he said, lying his presents down on the rug, beside Ginny's. "Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas, Harry," she replied. Her skin was slightly pale as she looked up at him, but there were bright spots of colour on her cheeks, which, coupled with her dark green jumper and bright red hair, made her look rather Christmasy.

Harry chose to sit on the rug, and warmed his hands by the fire. "Are the others up yet?"

"I haven't seen them," said Ginny.

Harry nodded to himself and stared at the patterns on the ornate crimson rug he was sitting on. With Ron and Hermione absent, it was the perfect time to ask Ginny about her dreams. And he did want to; he wanted to find out whether her return to the Chamber of Secrets had once and for all banished her fears of Tom Riddle and what he had done to her. But dreams were a very personal subject and one couldn't just ask someone about theirs, could they? "So," said Harry, turning his head to look at Ginny, "did you - er - sleep well?"

Ginny nodded with a small smile on her lips. Well, I suppose that's a good sign, Harry thought with relief. He returned Ginny's smile and turned back to the fire. The sound of a door opening, however, drew his attention away again. A moment later, Hermione alighted from the girls' staircase, beaming cheerfully and carrying a large pile of presents. "Happy Christmas."

Harry and Ginny returned her greeting and relaxed once more as they waited for Ron. It took close to ten minutes for him to appear, and when he did he looked particularly fatigued. "Happy Christmas," he muttered before yawning. He dropped his presents on the rug and settled into an armchair, where he rested his head and closed his eyes.

"Didn't get much sleep?" Harry inquired. Ron grunted in reply.

"Well," said Hermione, jumping to her feet and trying to make up for Ron's missing smile with an extra bright one of her own, "why don't I hand out the presents?"

They spent the next fifteen minutes tearing open gifts, laughing profusely at some of them, and, in Harry and Ron's case, throwing the occasional balled up sheet of wrapping paper at each other. Harry had received some good gifts this year. Ron had given him what had, at first, appeared to be a children's pop-up book about Quidditch. Upon opening it, however, Harry realised that unlike their Muggle counterparts, wizarding pop-up books allowed their occupants to move around the page, and so a tall blonde-haired wizard, who Harry vaguely recalled seeing at the Quidditch World Cup, was now strolling back and forth and spouting advice at him. "How're you going to catch the Snitch with all that hair in your eyes? And where is your broomstick anyway? You think you can skip practice just because it's Christmas?" Ron had soon become agitated by the blonde wizard's ramblings and clamped the book shut. Harry could still hear his indignant and muffled cries from inside.

Hermione had given him, to Harry's surprise, a Foe Glass. It wasn't as large as the one he had seen in the fake Moody's office in his fourth year, but it looked as though it served the same purpose. At the moment there were no shadowy figures inside it, as there had been in the impostor Moody's, but Harry could have sworn his reflection was slightly blurred around the edges. "I got it last summer in Diagon Alley," Hermione explained. "The larger ones were extremely expensive, but I found this one for a good price."

"Thanks," Harry replied, setting the Foe Glass down on the rug and trying not to look at it too often.

He opened Ginny's present next (whilst Ginny herself watched on and bit her fingernails). It turned out to be a book called The Gryffindor Lineage, and contained a long, expansive history of the Gryffindor family. It was a large, impressive looking book, bound in a crimson leather cover and decorated in gilded designs. It looked rather expensive too. "Wow," said Harry. He looked up at Ginny. "Thanks."

"Do you like it?" Ginny asked anxiously. "Because... if you don't.. .then I can take it back and get you something else. I just... I didn't know if you wanted a book, but I thought you might like to read about... about your family. But if you don't...." She flushed bright red and looked down at the floor.

"I love it," said Harry, smiling warmly. And he did. It had never occurred to him to do some research on his family, now that he knew who they were. The book looked full of interesting facts and tales; the first page Harry opened to had a moving illustration of two extremely brawny wizards locked in a fierce sword fight. He wondered, briefly, whether the gene for a muscular body had been lost somewhere along the way.

"Thanks, Gin," he said again. Ginny smiled timidly and turned an even brighter shade of red.

As well as the gifts he'd received from Ron, Hermione and Ginny, there was also Mrs. Weasley's usual box of fudge and accompanying jumper, Hagrid's latest attempt at cooking (which, Harry quickly realised, wasn't any better than his last), and a small box from Sirius. Harry chuckled as he removed the poorly tied red bow. As soon as he did, however, the box expanded until it was several times larger than it had been, almost as tall as Harry himself. "Shrinking Spell," said Ron with a smile. "Mum and dad used to use them on our presents all the time."

His curiosity now piqued, Harry ripped his way through the wrapping paper and found a nondescript brown box inside. The others were all watching him with equal curiosity. Harry tossed the wrapping paper aside, opened one end of the box and pulled out...

"Merlin's beard!" Ron exclaimed at the top of his voice. He was on his feet already and his mouth was hanging open. "That's... that's...."

"A broomstick," said Harry, staring at Sirius' gift in puzzlement. "But I've already got a broomstick."

"Not this one you haven't," said Ron. "You know what this is?" He dropped to his knees beside Harry. "This is a Firebolt SE - I read about them in Which Broomstick? They're only supposed to be making a few hundred of them. Most are going to the professional teams and only a few are being sold to the public. But... you'd have to be rich to get one, or know someone really important. And they're not even out yet!"

Harry raised his eyebrows and looked down at his new broomstick. It had the same highly polished ash handle and birch tail twigs, and it was exactly the same size and shape as Harry's regular Firebolt. It also bore the gilded name of the broomstick on the handle. But there was something different about this broom, Harry realised, as he held it up and let it hover above the ground. It looked as though it was desperate to start flying, almost as though it was conscious. It made a soft humming noise as it hovered, but kept almost perfectly still. And according to the user's manual that came with it, it had several dozen more features than the regular Firebolt.

"This is so cool," said Ron, gazing at the Firebolt SE with overflowing admiration. "You won't ever have to worry about getting outstripped with this. No one else in the school will get one!"

* * *

"Ha!" cried Draco, as he tore the wrapping paper off his present. A shiny new broomstick rolled out onto the floor, gleaming in the sunlight that was pouring through his window. He picked it up and admired it smugly.

It was a Firebolt SE, he knew; he had seen it in Which Broomstick? and heard his father's associates talking about it. That, he supposed, was how his mother had managed to acquire one - a strong connection with the right person and a sack full of galleons.

Draco's broom, unlike those he had seen, appeared to have been customised. The handle was black instead of brown, and beneath the gold-letter name of the broomstick was his own name, gleaming as brightly as the handle itself.

"Wait till Potter sees this," he said with a grin.

* * *

Hermione watched Ginny unwrap Harry's gift with a smile on her face. Harry himself looked quite nervous, but it was nothing to how Ginny had looked earlier. It was nice to see them like that - to know that they were anxious to please each other and sometimes unsure of how to do so. It was so much better than a person who was always confident and always sure of himself and who never once got the least bit nervous around her. Hypothetically, of course, Hermione reminded herself.

When Ginny had torn off the wrapping paper on Harry's present and opened the box inside, her expression turned to one she might wear if she had just been told she had inherited Hogwarts castle. Her mouth was hanging slightly open, and she was staring at the barrettes inside with dazed eyes.

"D'you like them?" Harry asked.

"I..." said Ginny, "I... I...."

"She loves them," said Hermione, patting Ginny on the arm. Ginny nodded absently. "Well, I guess I should pack up this mess," said Hermione, and swept all of the discarded wrapping paper into the waste bin with a wave of her wand. "Thanks for the new diary, Harry," she added, picking it up from her armrest. She had said no books, but a diary was thoughtful. Especially this one, which came with a quill that vibrated whenever you forgot something you had written in the diary with it. She also picked up the Egyptian wizarding statue that Ron had given her, which he'd asked Bill for. "And thanks for the statue, Ron. Ron?" Evidently, he liked Hermione's present, as he was in the process of scoffing down every sweet in the Honeyduke's sampler in one sitting. "Save some room for breakfast," Hermione suggested.

They each returned their presents to their rooms and made their way down to the Great Hall, which looked as festive as ever. The usual twelve Christmas trees were standing proudly around the room, decorated in golden tinsel and real snow. Fairies were also flittering among the leaves and laughing in their shrill voices as they poked fun at the people in the hall. "Carrot-head!" one of them cried as Ron walked past, before clutching her stomach and collapsing with laughter. Ron made to flick the fairy off her branch, but Hermione stopped him.

Once they had seated themselves at the almost empty Gryffindor table, they ate and talked more than they had in weeks, not because they had anything particularly interesting to talk about, but because it was hard not to get into the spirit when everything around them looked so warm and cheerful. Hermione was dismayed, however, to see that Draco wasn't at breakfast. It bothered her more than she would have thought. Was he sitting alone in his room wishing he had someone to talk to? Was he wandering the halls, all alone and miserable and desperate for a friend? I don't think so, thought Hermione. She had trouble picturing Draco with anything less than haughty satisfaction on his face. He just didn't get lonely. Still, Hermione would have liked to see him.

At the end of the meal she excused herself from the table with a rather poor attempt at a cover story. "I - uh - have to - I just have to do something first, and then I'll meet you guys outside, okay?"

Only Ron seemed perplexed by this, but he simply shrugged in the end. Hermione walked prudently back to the marble staircase, then quickened her pace until she had reached the fifth floor. She walked up to the door of the Charms classroom and stopped outside it, her hand perched on the handle. She didn't really expect him to be here, but if she had had the urge to come and look, perhaps Draco had too. Was it so absurd to imagine that he wanted to see her on Christmas morning? Probably, Hermione thought glumly. She pushed the door open nevertheless, and found...

"Draco...."

He was standing with his back to her, staring out the window with his back perfectly straight. He was wearing a dark grey shirt, a pair of black trousers and black leather shoes. His hair was the only colour on his outfit, but that only made it stand out all the more. He also had a silver buckle on his belt, which Hermione saw when he turned around. He was wearing an amused smirk on his face. "I had a feeling you'd come."

"Me too," said Hermione. "I mean," she added hastily, "I had a feeling that you'd come. Because... obviously... I knew that I was coming, because... I'm me," she finished lamely. Draco raised his eyebrows, which always made Hermione feel stupid. She took a deep breath and shook her head clear. "So - um - Happy Christmas."

"You, too," said Draco. Hermione wondered if he was capable of using the word happy in a sentence. Perhaps he didn't know what it meant. He's not stupid, she told herself.

Draco was looking at her with that piercing gaze that seemed to punch holes right through her. She looked down at the floor and bit her lip nervously. Should she do it? What would he say? Would he throw it back at her and tell her never to waste his time again? Only one way to find out. Hermione reached a hand into her pocket and pulled out a slender box, wrapped in simple green paper. She had wanted to tie it with a silver ribbon, but she had her doubts as to whether Draco would appreciate something like that. "I - um -" she spluttered, "I got you this." She held the gift out to him and waited nervously.

"What's that?" asked Draco, confused.

"It's... it's a gift," said Hermione.

Draco looked up and raised his eyebrows. "A gift?" Hermione nodded. "For who?"

Hermione tiled her head to the side and fixed Draco with an impatient look. "Who do you think?"

Draco frowned and eyed the present distrustfully. "You got me a gift?"

"It's not really a gift," Hermione replied. "It's just... something I thought you could use."

Draco turned his curious expression on Hermione, and then, slowly, he reached out a pale hand and took the box from her. Hermione retracted her own hand quickly and waited with anticipation. He's going to hate it, part of her thought. No, he won't, another part answered. It's not a fancy gift and he can't construe it the wrong way. Like he ever would, said the first part.

Draco was slowly peeling off the wrapping paper, being careful not to rip any of it. Does that mean he appreciates the time I spent on it? Hermione wondered. Draco had finished with the wrapping paper now. He put it aside on one of the tables, and slid open the box in his hands. An amused smile crept over his face as he extracted what was inside. "A new quill." He held it lightly between two of his fingers and looked at it appraisingly. "Very masculine." Hermione smiled. "Why'd you get green and black?" Draco asked.

Hermione's smile faded. "I just... I thought... you know, because... you wear a lot of black and... you're in Slytherin." She dropped her head in defeat. "I can take it back if you don't like it."

"No," said Draco, still smiling. "I like it." Relief flooded through Hermione's body; she felt herself relax slightly. Only slightly though - it was impossible to relax fully in Draco's presence.

A silence had settled between them, and while it seemed ordinary at first, it soon became awkward. "Well, I should probably go," said Hermione, as Draco looked up. "I'm meeting Ron, Harry and Ginny outside." She paused for a moment, and then, abandoning caution, continued. "You can come if you like. I mean, after the business in the Chamber, they don't hate you as much as before."

"Yes, they do," said Draco, without a trace of self-pity.

"Well... not that much," Hermione assured him. "And I'm pretty sure Ginny doesn't." She looked down at her shoes for a moment, before taking a deep breath and continuing. "We're having a snowball fight so...."

"Snowball fight?" said Draco with sudden interest. "Why didn't you say so?"

Hermione broke into a grin. "So you'll come?"

Draco smiled. "Sure. I wouldn't pass up a chance to hit Potter in the face with something cold and wet."

"Well, that wasn't really the point..." said Hermione, albeit half-heartedly. "Anyway," she added, "they're probably out there already, so I'll see you down there." She turned around and headed towards the door, but Draco stopped her.

"Hey, Granger...."

Hermione turned around so fast she almost strained her neck. "Yes?"

"Catch," said Draco, and threw something across the room. Hermione caught it reflexively and stared at it in disbelief. It was a gift, shaped like a bottle of some sort and wrapped in fancy red paper.

"You got me a gift?" Hermione asked incredulously, her voice so soft she wasn't sure if she had spoken the words or merely thought them.

"Not a gift," said Draco. "Just something I thought you could use."

Hermione smiled vaguely without looking at Draco. She was floored. He had actually given her a present - out of the kindness of his own heart, if that's what was in it. Did he buy gifts for anyone else? Had he ever bought one in his life? And why was hers shaped like a bottle? "This isn't alcohol, is it?" Hermione asked apprehensively.

"No, but it probably has the same effect if you drink it," Draco replied cryptically.

Hermione was struggling to overcome her astonishment, but she managed to work around it and pull off the ribbon tied around the bottle. Where did Draco learn to tie ribbons?

"I didn't wrap it," he answered as though he had read her thoughts. "The store did."

Oh, thought Hermione. Well, it's still thoughtful - especially for Draco. She took the wrapping paper off as carefully as Draco had taken it off her gift. Inside she found a bottle, as she had expected, but instead of liquid, there was powder inside. Several different coloured powders actually, layered one on top of the other so that they created a nice rainbow. "Elemental Sands," Hermione breathed, gaping at the bottle. "How... how did you get this? They're supposed to be rare."

"They are," said Draco. "But I know people who sell them. I had them owl it to me." Hermione looked up, still gaping. "I saw how interested you were in them yesterday," Draco explained, "so I thought you'd want a chance to work with them without having to use them so quickly."

"Th- thank you," Hermione stammered.

Draco smiled, a little sheepishly, and nodded. "Well - ah - you probably don't want to keep your friends waiting, so...."

"Right," said Hermione, recovering herself. "I'll see you in a little while." She clutched the bottle of Sands tightly and left the room, grinning from ear to ear as she walked. Back in her room, she stashed Draco's present in her bottom drawer, almost as though she expected it to be stolen, then threw on her cloak and made her way down to the Entrance Hall.

* * *

After Harry had finished breakfast, he, Ron and Ginny all returned to their rooms to retrieve their cloaks and broomsticks before bounding back down to the Entrance Hall. They leaned their broomsticks against the banister and sat down on the bottom step to wait for Hermione, so that she wouldn't have to trudge across the snowy grounds on her own. Before long, however, Ron decided that he hadn't eaten enough at breakfast and nipped back into the Great Hall for a second helping. Harry watched him go with a sinking feeling, the cause of which he couldn't quite pinpoint. He let out a long breath and turned back to Ginny, who was staring in the opposite direction. After a moment she turned around again, and flinched when she saw Harry looking at her. "Hi," she said squeakily, and turned bright red. Why is she saying hi? Harry wondered. He turned away and looked instead at the two suits of armour standing beside the front doors, who were engaged in a roaring duet of 'The Twelve Days of Christmas'. Their voices were almost as rusty as their joints, and the repeated clanking didn't help either.

It was a while before Hermione returned. Harry and Ginny both stood up immediately, grateful for the extra company. "Where's Ron?" Hermione asked.

"Gone for seconds," Harry replied.

Hermione shook her head. "That boy's stomach will be the death of him."

"Let's go," said Harry, who was keen to get outside. "Ron can catch up."

He led the way outside, where there was surprisingly little wind. It wasn't as cold as it might have been, even though the snow was piled high against the walls of the castle, and the snow itself was dense enough to the support their weight. Overhead, the sun was a pale yellow, almost white orb, doing very little to warm the grounds but shining brightly nonetheless.

"Harry," Hermione said as they walked.

"Mmm?"

"Um... I... ah... I asked Draco if he wanted to come down and join us...."

Harry stopped dead in his tracks and turned to her with open-mouthed horror. "You did what?"

"I...." Hermione looked full of remorse. "I just thought it might be nice for him to have some company today. And he's not as bad as he used to be - I know you know that." Harry looked dubiously at Hermione. Beside him, Ginny was smiling slightly. "And besides," Hermione added desperately, "you get a chance to hit him in the face with something wet and cold." Harry sighed and pulled his broomstick out of the snow with a rough tug.

"Fine," he said. "But only because he helped us with the stone. I still don't trust him, Hermione, no matter how much you do."

Hermione dropped her gaze. "I know." Harry opened his mouth to say something further, perhaps to apologise, but decided against it. "Come on," he said, and led the way towards the Quidditch pitch. The snow was packed heavily around its walls, creating steep ramps in some places. There would be snow inside as well, perfect for a snowball fight, and afterwards they could simply mount their brooms and play a game of Quidditch. And with Draco present, at least they could have even teams. Still, that didn't make up for how much of a git he was.

Harry was just about to turn into the Quidditch pitch when he saw something ahead of him that made him stop. It was a dark figure on the edge of the forest, walking towards them. "Who's that?" Hermione asked.

Harry didn't reply. He couldn't see much from this distance, other than the fact that whatever was coming towards them was human. He or she also appeared to be wearing a dark cloak, and looked slightly shorter than Harry. And as the person closed more of the distance, Harry noticed bright blonde hair. At first he thought it might be Draco, coming to join them as Hermione had said he would, but then why would he be coming out of the forest? And why would he have a ponytail?

"It's a girl," said Hermione. And it was; her bright blonde hair (almost as blonde as Draco's) was arranged in a simple ponytail and she was wearing a broad smile on her face. She was also, Harry realised, quite attractive. He was on his guard nevertheless, and subtly positioned himself in front of Hermione and Ginny. At the same time, he slid his hand into his pocket and took hold of his wand, ready to draw it out at a moment's notice. The girl certainly didn't look like any Death Eater Harry had ever seen, but then it was better to be safe than dead.

"Hi," the girl called to them as she drew closer. She waved vigorously and quickened her pace until she had reached them. "Phew," she said, wiping her brow and shaking snow from her hood. "Long walk."

Harry watched her quizzically, expecting some forthcoming explanation. There was none, however. The girl merely looked up with a lively smile on her face. "You must be Harry," she said, her eyes flicking up to his scar. It was the first time in Harry's life that he wished someone would keep looking at his scar, as it was much less disconcerting than when the girl's eyes roamed up and down his body. She was wearing an amused smile much like Draco's. "You're cuter than I thought." Harry felt his ears burn. Behind him, Ginny scowled darkly.

The girl pulled off her gloves and straightened her ponytail, even though it was sitting perfectly. "So," she said, looking at Harry, "I've got something to tell the heir of Gryffindor, which would be you, right?"

"H- how did you...?"

The girl waved her hand dismissively. "Never mind that - this is important. Now--" But she broke off in mid-word, and stared open-mouthed over Harry's shoulder. "Oh, my God! Who is that?"

Harry, Hermione and Ginny all turned around and saw Draco coming down from the castle. He had his hands in his pockets and was walking as straight-backed as ever. "That's Draco," said Hermione, turning back to the girl was a distrustful expression.

"Draco," repeated the girl, beaming brightly. "He's gorgeous!"

Now Hermione was the one scowling, and doing a rather intimidating job of it. Ginny was looking at the girl with disapproving eyes, and the girl herself was still ogling Draco, who was now coming to a stop beside Hermione. He jerked his head lazily towards the blonde girl. "Who's this?"

"Um," said Harry, scratching his head and turning back to the girl, "I'm not really sure." She stared at Draco a moment longer, then blinked and said, "Sorry. My name is--" But for the second time she broke off, and for the second time it was because of something she'd seen over Harry's shoulder. All four of them turned around to see that Ron was coming towards them, his locks of red hair (which had grown rather long recently) standing out vividly against the snow. The girl let out a squeal of what sounded to Harry like delight. "How many cute boys do you have at this school!" She sprinted forward to meet Ron and stopped a foot away from him. Ron recoiled slightly and stared at the girl in confusion. She was looking up at him the same way a young girl might look up at a mighty oak tree. "Wow," she said in awe, "you're really tall."

"Er..." said Ron, glancing at the others for help. Ginny and Hermione were now muffling giggles, Harry had no idea what to do, and Draco had raised an eyebrow. Ron's entire face had turned red, so that he contrasted even more with the snow. "Um..." he said, apparently realising that no one was going to bail him out, "I don't mean to be rude but... who are you?"

"Oh, sorry," said the girl. "I'm Lyra."

"Er - hi," said Ron. "I'm Ron."

"Hi, Ron," said Lyra, holding out her hand. "Pleased to meet you." Ron reached out tentatively and shook Lyra's hand. "Ooh," she said. "You've got a strong grip." Ron smiled weakly and looked as though he wanted to take his hand back, but Lyra wouldn't let go.

"Um, excuse me," said Harry, taking a step forward, "you... you said you had something to tell me...."

"Oh, right," said Lyra, releasing Ron's hand and turning back to Harry. She remained standing beside Ron however. "I have to tell you something about Slytherin's stone."

All five Hogwarts students stared at her with identical expressions. "How... how do you know about...?" Harry began.

"That's not important," said Lyra. "What is important is that you hear what I have to say."

Draco narrowed his eyes suspiciously and crossed his arms. "And what's that?"

"The stone you destroyed," said Lyra. "Slytherin's stone - the one that fits in his sword - Voldemort's making another."

"WHAT?" Harry and Draco exclaimed in unison.

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione.

"I mean he's making another one," said Lyra simply.

Harry, along with everyone else, was speechless. Several dozen questions were whizzing around his head, all vying for an answer.

"But... but... but he can't be," Hermione stammered, looking dumbstruck. "He can't!"

"He can," said Lyra. "And he is. Unless you stop him, of course."

Everyone seemed to lose their voice again. At length, Harry shook his head clear and said, "I'm... I'm sorry - how do you know about Slytherin's stone? And what we did with it?"

"Again," said Lyra, "not important."

"I bloody well think it is," said Draco, with a hint of hollow laughter in his voice. He seemed the only one capable of talking to this girl with any confidence, which, Harry suspected from a tiny, objective, and thoroughly repressed part of himself, was because Draco was in the same league as her physically. He alone didn't seem to be intimidated by her looks or her bubbly attitude. "How do we know we can trust you?" he asked smoothly.

"You don't," said Lyra. "And--"

"Please tell me you're not going to give us one of those 'you shouldn't trust me and if you're smart, you shouldn't even trust yourself' speeches," Draco interrupted. "Because that would just be trite."

Lyra frowned at him. "I was going to say that you shouldn't trust me until I give you a reason to."

"Oh, well that's so much more original."

Lyra pointed a finger at him. "You talk too much. Don't do that."

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny, despite themselves, all smiled. Draco looked furious. It was obvious that no one had ever spoken to him like that before. It was amusing to watch though.

"As I was saying," Lyra continued, turning towards Harry again, "you don't have to put your trust in me until I earn it."

"And how are you going to do that?" Draco demanded sharply, drawing Lyra's attention back to himself.

"I don't know yet," she replied, clearly unfazed by Draco's tone. "But maybe I will soon."

Draco narrowed his eyes suspiciously and folded his arms. At the same moment, Harry found his voice. "So... what do you mean by stopping Voldemort? How do we stop him from making a new stone?"

"Oh, that's easy," said Lyra. "You keep him away from him." She pointed a finger at Draco.

"Why me?" Draco demanded.

"Well, you're the heir of Slytherin, aren't you?"

Draco looked incensed that this girl knew something so personal about him. "What if I am?" he replied defensively.

"Well," said Lyra, "the stone you destroyed had Slytherin's life force in it, didn't it? So Voldemort needs more of it to make another stone. More specifically, he needs your blood."

"My blood?" said Draco incredulously.

"Yes," replied Lyra impatiently. "Thick, red liquid - possibly blue in your case - flows through your veins. It's quite interesting stuff, really."

Draco's eyes narrowed further. The tension between he and Lyra was rapidly rising, so Harry decided to step in. "Ah... there's just one small problem with that."

"What?"

"Voldemort has Slytherin blood, too."

"I know he does," said Lyra. "But he doesn't have anything even close to a life force. He puts his blood in the stone and he'd be lucky if it worked as a paperweight. He'll need Draco's."

"Or my father's," said Draco gravely.

"Your father's?" asked Lyra, looking to Draco for clarification.

He had fallen silent however, so Hermione filled in the blanks. "He's - uh - he's with Voldemort."

"Oh, right," said Lyra. "Tall, blonde guy - pointy face?"

"That's him," Hermione replied, glancing warily at Draco. He turned his stiff-jawed look on her, but didn't let it linger.

"Well, he can't use your father's blood either," said Lyra. "That's not how these inheritance things work. You're the heir of Slytherin in your family line, not your father. It's the last in the line that gets the blood charms, I think. So until you have kids, it's you."

Draco's expression darkened, and he turned it towards the forest. Harry wondered what was going through the other boy's mind, now that he had just discovered he was in even more danger than he had thought - if, of course, this girl was telling the truth. He felt a strange empathy for Draco, which surprised him. Apparently he didn't want him to die, which was more than Draco would ever do for him, he was sure.

"So, that's what we have to do?" said Harry, turning back to Lyra. "We have to keep Malfoy away from Voldemort for the rest of his life?"

"Who?" said Lyra, her brow furrowed.

"What?" said Harry.

"He meant Draco," Hermione explained. "His name is Draco Malfoy."

Lyra turned towards Draco again, surprise etched on her face. "You're a Malfoy?"

Draco raised his chin defiantly. "Yeah - what of it?

Lyra shrugged. "I don't know. I just... after everything I heard... I thought you'd be kind of... different."

Draco's eyes narrowed again. "Different how?"

"Well... you know... like a dark wizard. All black eyes and hooked nose and pointed teeth."

"I think that's an accurate description," said Ron. Lyra turned around and smiled at him.

"Anyway," Harry said loudly, "are you saying we have to keep Malfoy away from him forever?"

"No, not forever," said Lyra. "There's only a certain time that Voldemort can make the stone. Planets need to be in alignment and the moon in a certain phase - I don't know, it's all very complicated. But as long as you keep Draco away from him for the next month or so, you should be right."

"You mean we should be right," said Draco. "If Voldemort gets that stone, your head's in the noose too."

"I know that," Lyra replied crossly. "Everyone's is. That's why you have to stay away from him."

Harry expected Draco to make a sarcastic remark to that, but he merely looked at Lyra with a heavy, brooding expression. "Again," he said at length, "how do we know we can trust you? You seem to know an awful lot about Voldemort. How do we know you're not in league with him?"

"Right, I'm part of the sixteen-year-old girl division," Lyra replied sarcastically. "It's our job to go in first and weaken the enemy by batting our eyelashes at them." She finished with a matching glare, which, coupled with their blonde hair, made her and Draco look like brother and sister, or mirror images of each other. "Anyway," said Lyra, turning away from Draco, "that's what you have to do. Play babysitter for a while, and just make sure he doesn't get into any trouble."

"Babysitter!" Draco roared with indignation. "The only thing in need of babysitting around here is--"

"Shh," said Lyra, putting a finger to her lips. "I told you not to talk so much." Draco fell silent, but only because he was opening and closing his mouth as he attempted to splutter a reply. He was clearly outraged. "Good boy," said Lyra. "Now... I have to go, so I hope you all have a good Christmas, and good luck with your whole saving-the-world thing." She beamed them a smile and turned around to face Ron, her smile growing wider. "Bye, Ron."

"Bye," said Ron, fidgeting under Lyra's gaze.

"It was nice meeting you all," said Lyra, as she began walking towards the front of the school. She pulled her hood over her head so that her blonde hair was hidden from view, and became little more than a dark shape against the snow as she walked between the front gates, the winged boars watching her go.

* * *

No one was particularly interested in Quidditch or snowball fights after hearing what Lyra had to say. They stood in silence for a while, gazing after the strange girl who quickly disappeared from sight and letting the information she had given them sink in. After a while, without speaking, they all turned and trudged back up to the castle, which now felt just as cold as the snow-covered grounds. Draco trailed at a distance, and although he expected the other four to head straight for the Gryffindor common room to discuss their courageous little battle plan, they paused instead at the foot of the marble staircase, looking pensive. Draco felt once again as though he didn't belong, but as no one had said anything about his presence yet, he decided to stay.

"Do you think she's telling the truth?" Ron asked.

"I can't see why she'd lie about something like that," said Harry. "I mean... how can it be a trap? All she told us to do was to keep Malfoy away from Voldemort. I don't see how that can work against us."

"That's true," said Hermione, who was looking thoughtful. "But, how did she know all that stuff?"

No one had an answer to that. Draco himself was highly suspicious of this mysterious girl. She was only sixteen years old and yet she knew all about Voldemort's masterful plan. And where did she get off speaking to him the way she did? I'm a Malfoy, for God's sake, he thought bitterly. "I didn't like her," he said, voicing his thoughts.

Ron snorted. "Of course you didn't - she put you right in your place."

"And yet the question of where she wanted to put you is still open," said Draco, smirking with amusement. Ron flushed and lowered his eyes.

"Well, I don't see how this changes anything," said Harry. "Voldemort's after all of us anyway, and it's not like we have to go to any extra trouble to keep him away from Malfoy."

"I am standing right here, you know," Draco reminded them. "And no one is going to 'keep me away' from anyone."

"I was hoping we wouldn't have to," said Harry. "I'm sure you have the common sense not to go wondering outside the castle or reply to any invitations to one of Voldemort's regularly scheduled shindigs."

"I'm a Slytherin," said Draco. "And therefore in possession of more common sense than any of you louts." Before Harry could make a reply, Draco turned on his heel and headed off towards the dungeons.

The hallways were cold as usual; exceptionally so at this time of year. But as always, the low temperature suited Draco, and calmed him somewhat.

He wasn't sure what to make of this news. He still didn't know whether they could trust this mysterious girl and her ill tidings, but Potter did have a point - what good would it do her, or Voldemort, to make up a story like that? Still, there was something about her. Draco almost had the feeling that she knew part of what he'd been going through lately. But no, she couldn't possibly. No one did.

He stopped outside the entrance to the Slytherin common room, muttered the password, and stepped inside. The fire burning in the grate made the common room slightly warmer than the hallway outside, but not by much. It would be a relief to gain the silence and solitude of his room, but when Draco arrived outside his door, he found it ajar. Instinct told him to draw his wand, which he did at once.

He listened carefully for any sounds issuing from within, but there were none, so he placed his palm flat on the door, raised his wand to chest height, and pushed the door wide open. It hit the wall behind with a resounding crash, but Draco barely heard it. His attention was focused instead on the person standing next to his bed. Her blonde hair hung in twin braids beside her head, and she was smiling at him sweetly.

"Pansy?"

* * *