Harry Potter & The Blade of Carmen-Eversor

Chapter Two

Then the Professor McGonagall Harry had met outside opened the door and surveyed the shocked expressions the entire class wore with much amusement. Hermione suddenly clapped a hand to her forehead and pronounced, "Apographonum."

The Professor McGonagall at the front of the class disappeared only to be replaced by a disgruntled-looking tawny owl. Whilst the remaining Professor McGonagall strode briskly past Harry, coming to a halt at her desk.

"I believe I told you to find a seat," she said sternly as Harry was jerked back to his senses.

"Oh, um, right," he mumbled recollecting himself. Ron had turned his back to Harry pointedly. He need not have bothered though, as the fact he had plonked himself at Dean and Seamus' usual table was hint enough for Harry who went and sat with Hermione instead. She flushed furiously as Lavender and Pavarti, seated at the table in front of theirs, nudged each other and giggled with their hands over their mouths. Harry felt distinctly hot in the face as they kept turning round and shooting glances at him before dissolving into fresh fits of giggles.

Professor McGonagall, meanwhile, had proceeded to write up the word that Hermione had said (Apographonum) on the blackboard. "Can anyone tell me what this word means?"

To nobody's surprise, Hermione raised her hand. "Apographonum is an immensely complex incantation that transfigures one living creature into an exact replica of another. The person who cast the spell can then control this creature, making it do whatever they command it."

"Ten points to Gryffindor," said Professor McGonagall, giving Hermione a rare smile. "This spell can also be used to transfigure an animal into a person as I demonstrated earlier with this owl. It is possible to make a replica that would fool even those people who know the character and mannerisms of the person intimately. However, that requires a very powerful bit of magic and immense concentration behind the spell. Today you will begin by making notes on pages 133 to 157 of Chapter 8. Homework is to complete any of today's work that you do not get done by the end of the lesson. You will also make the necessary preparations, described in these pages, so that we may commence work on the incantation next lesson. You may talk quietly, but if I feel the level of noise gets too high you will work in silence. Does anyone have any questions?"

There were none, so everyone set to work muttering mutinously about the workload.

"Urgh, 24 pages! That'll take me ages - I'll never get all that done by the end of the lesson," Harry groaned.

"You probably ought to make a start then, shouldn't you," Hermione whispered smiling sweetly at him, "How are you feeling now, anyway?"

He was actually still feeling extremely sore - his bones might be back to normal but his head and insides felt as though they had been thoroughly beaten. However, he decided not to tell her this, he knew she was already feeling exceptionally guilty.

Instead he replied, "Oh, yeah I'm fine. Madam Pomfrey fixed me up - so what happened to you? It's just you left before I woke up and then you didn't come back again either."

Harry was surprised to see her turn beetroot-red, but the reason for it soon became apparent. "Er, well, I fell asleep too and then Madam Pomfrey woke me up. She told me off because I was still on your bed and everything. She looked a bit shocked, to be honest..."

"It's always the quiet ones you have to watch out for," Harry whispered back, grinning as she blushed an even deeper shade of red.

"And there was me thinking you said I wasn't usually quiet," she retorted as she started scribbling away on her parchment. Harry sat chin in hand, leaning on his elbow and gazed at her, ignoring Pavarti and Lavender who still kept turning to look at them.

"Miss Brown! Miss Patil!" shouted Professor McGonagall, making most of the class leap about a foot in the air, "Will you please get on with your own work and stop keep turning around, or do I have to separate you?"

They muttered apologies and refrained from turning round for the rest of the lesson, much to Harry's relief. As soon as Professor McGonagall had settled herself behind her desk once more, Harry laid down his quill and sat gazing at Hermione. She kept shooting him questioning glances out of the corner of her eye before finally, flinging down her quill.

"What? Why do you keep staring at me? You're putting me off," she tried to glare at him, but failed miserably so pursed her lips instead so that she would not smile. Harry did not answer straight away, but just went on looking at her, amazed that he could have failed to notice before how pretty she was. She had certainly changed in appearance significantly since their first year. She no longer had big front teeth, not since Madam Pomfrey had shrunk them, back in their fourth year, and her bushy hair was a lot tamer nowadays. Though Harry strongly suspected that that was more her own doing than being naturally less bushy. She also looked more grown up not that he was surprised about that.

Seeing she was still waiting for him to respond, he leant forwards and murmured in her ear, "I love you." He immediately blushed, but did not turn away. Instead he surveyed her calmly, wondering if she was going to laugh or cry for she seemed on the verge of both. She also looked ready to fling her arms around him, and he could not quite decide whether or not he was glad she held herself in. The middle of a Transfiguration lesson certainly was not the best time for a show of affection, yet he desperately wanted to hold her in his arms like he had the day before. After a moment's hesitation she linked her fingers in his and gave him a serene smile.

Thinking that he really should get on with some of his work now rather than leave it all to do as homework, Harry put her hand to his lips and kissed it lightly before letting it go. He then hazarded a glance in Ron's direction and saw Ron shoot a look of mingled fury and envy at him. Harry quickly looked away, his insides writhing guiltily. Hermione too appeared to be uncomfortable; she had seen Ron's face too.

The end of the lesson could not have come quickly enough for Harry, he and Hermione hurried after Ron who had stormed out as soon as the bell indicating the end of the lesson had rung. However, what with all the people pouring out of classrooms along the length of the corridor, they lost him.

Someone was shoved roughly into Harry's chest, causing him to double up in agony. Hermione grabbed his arm and yanked him into the nearest empty classroom where he sank to the floor. She pushed the door to, before dumping her bag and kneeling down next to him.

"Are you alright?" she asked looking concerned. He heaved himself into a sitting position and nodded slowly. "I thought you said you were fine now," she said slowly, taking his hand in hers again, "Did you only say that to make me feel better?"

Harry said nothing. He just sat, staring at the floor wishing the pain in his chest would subside enough for him to be able to speak freely. When he looked up, their faces were barely a foot apart. He leant forward and kissed her lips gently before slumping back against the wall. The next moment, before either of them really knew what was going on, they were kissing passionately. Harry pulled her as close to him as he could.

After a considerable length of time the kiss ended and, both breathing heavily, they got unsteadily to their feet. Hermione snuggled herself under his arm and rested her head on his shoulder while he draped his arms over her. Although he was still shorter than most of the boys in his year, Harry had grown a lot during his time at Hogwarts and was now three or four inches taller than Hermione was. They stood entwined like this for a little while until Hermione suddenly looked at her watch and gasped.

"Harry, Harry! Come on! We're going to be late for Care of Magical Creatures." And with that she scooped up her bag and tugged on his arm.

Harry groaned and checked his own watch. "Hey, we've still got a bit of time. Hagrid won't mind if we're late."

But she gave him such a severe look that he decided it would be best if he went with her after all. He allowed himself to be steered out of the classroom and down the corridor. When they reached the marble staircase he grabbed her by the hand and they proceeded in this manner until Hagrid's wooden hut, standing alone on the outskirts of the forbidden forest, loomed into view.

There were cat-calls and jeers from the Slytherins (they were learning with them again, though they had been allowed to enjoy a two-year break during their fifth and sixth years) as they approached, still hand in hand. Hagrid beamed as he saw them, then called for them to hurry up. Ron, Harry could see, was looking very sour and this caused him to feel a fresh pang of guilt.

Malfoy, flanked, as he always was at Hogwarts, by his thuggish cronies Crabbe and Goyle, narrowed his eyes maliciously as Harry and Hermione drew nearer. He made no comment to Harry, but whispered something to Crabbe and Goyle that made them guffaw stupidly.

"Now, ah've got a treat fer yeh all this lesson," said Hagrid rubbing his hands together gleefully, "If yeh'd all like ter follow me." And he led them off in the direction of the forbidden forest.

"What do you reckon he's managed to get hold of this time?" Harry asked Hermione nervously.

Hermione shrugged then said, "I would say I hope it isn't dangerous, but, well, this is Hagrid we're talking about."

Hagrid led them to a paddock on the very fringe of the forest which contained a variety of different breeds of winged horse, all tethered to the wooden posts surrounding the enclosure.

Harry and Hermione glanced quizzically at each other.

"Why's he so pleased about Winged horses?" Harry wondered aloud, voicing what each of them had been thinking. "I mean, you would have thought he'd find their lack of fangs or poison sings disappointing..."

Feeling her nudge him, Harry turned to look where Hermione was pointing. The familiar towering figure of a woman was striding towards the class leading an enormous palomino horse in her wake. It was Madam Maxime, headmistress of Beauxbatons.

"What's he like, eh?" Harry laughingly said, nodding his head in Hagrid's direction.

But before Hermione could answer, Hagrid's booming voice rang out, "Ev'ry one get in ter pairs an' gather round. Now then, fer the next co'ple o' weeks, yeh'll be observin' an' takin' care o' the horse I assign to yer pair."

Hands still clasped Hermione and Harry moved nearer to the fence along with the rest of the class, who were separating themselves into groups. Ron, Harry could see, did not look best pleased that he would be partnering Neville. Harry did not blame him, if he had been working with Neville he would be just as annoyed. Though Neville was a kind sort of person, he was incredibly forgetful and accident-prone; Harry had never known anyone to have as many mishaps as he did. It also meant that anyone working with Neville had extra work to do to counter all the havoc he caused. Both Ron and Harry realised Ron would probably end up doing most of the work which only seemed to add to Ron's foul temper.

Hagrid had started to direct the class to their steeds, but halted when Malfoy swaggered forward, closely followed by Crabbe and Goyle. He frowned at them for a moment.

"Ah, I forgot there was an odd number in this class. You three'd better take that Abraxan there, it'll be t'only one that can carry yeh all," said Hagrid, indicating the palomino Madam Maxime still held. For some reason Malfoy looked a bit put out, but he merely stared insolently at Hagrid before slouching over to where Madam Maxime stood waiting patiently.

Shortly after that it was Harry and Hermione's turn.

"I thought you two could see how yeh got on with tha' Thestral over there. His name's Merula and he's a bit o' a handful, d'yeh think yeh can manage 'im?"

Harry glanced nervously at the powerful-looking all-black horse Hagrid had just pointed out. It was tossing its head haughtily, pawing the ground with diamond-hard hoofs.

"Er -" Harry began but Hermione interrupted him,

"Oh, of course we can handle him." Hagrid beamed at them before turning to Dean and Seamus who were the next pair.

"Are you mad?" Harry hissed at her, eyeing the Thestral warily, "he looks ready to stomp us flat!"

Hermione's eyes gleamed excitedly as she waved aside what he said with an impatient hand, "Never mind about that, it's all just a front. Anyway, I thought you would want to take care of him, seeing as he's an extremely rare Thestral." Seeing him look blank, she continued, " Oh honestly Harry! Do you ever read our set books? Thestral's have the power to become invisible."

Harry gaped at her.

"Really?" he said eagerly once he had found his voice again. "This could turn out to be quite a lot of fun after all..." Harry trailed off and shot her a mischievous look.

As they approached the Thestral, he turned his sleek black face to look at them. Harry sincerely hoped that Hermione was right about it all being a front, because there was a wild look in Merula's eye Harry did not much like.

Hermione, however, took a tentative step forwards and held out a hand for Merula to smell. He stood considering her before sniffing her gingerly and then nuzzling her hand to Harry's very great surprise and relief. Emboldened by her success Harry held out a hand also. Merula snorted then started tossing his head about again as Harry hastily retreated back a few paces.

"I don't think he likes me very much," Harry muttered, watching Merula. He had now calmed down again and was letting Hermione pat him. "It sounded as though Hagrid had trouble with him too, maybe he only likes girls."

"He's not a unicorn, Harry," Hermione replied, tutting. "He's probably funny around Hagrid because Hagrid isn't really interested in him and funny around you because you're all tense."

"Well it's him that's making me tense. If only he'd stop tossing his head about like - "

"He's stopped now, so why don't you try holding your hand out again?" Hermione asked him impatiently. Harry scowled at her; he did not trust Merula and therefore did not particularly feel like offering his hand to him, as he suspected Merula would have no scruples in devouring it as a light snack. However, Harry felt that it would be better to get it over with now, seeing as he would be caring for Merula for the next few weeks.

Cautiously Harry held out his hand. Again, Merula snorted and threw back his magnificent head but this time Harry did not back away. It seemed that Merula noticed this, for he stood stock-still for a several minutes observing Harry. Finally, he nudged Harry's hand with his nose and Harry proceeded to pat him.

"There now see, that wasn't so bad was it? I wonder how everyone else is getting on," Hermione said, peering over Merula's high-curved back in an attempt to see Ron and Neville. Harry turned to look too and saw that they didn't seem to have any problems at the moment. The horse they were with was a chestnut-coloured Aethonan; a reasonably common variety of winged horse, especially in Britain and Ireland. The Aethonan was standing obediently by the fence while Ron and Neville got to know it better.

Gazing around at the rest of the class, Harry saw that he and Hermione had the only Thestral. Most people had Aethonans like Ron and Neville, though some of the more thickset Slytherins were beside enormous palominos not unlike the one Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were accompanying. Dean and Seamus, Harry noticed, were the only ones with a flighty looking grey horse, which was considerably smaller than the horses in the rest of the herd.

Meanwhile, Hagrid was stood deeply engrossed in a conversation with Madam Maxime when Malfoy sneered loudly, "What a great lesson this is. We get to pat a pony."

Hagrid looked over at Malfoy, obviously bewildered. "What're yeh jest pattin 'im fer? Why aren't yeh riding 'im?" Then seeing that the rest of the class still had both feet squarely on the ground he added, "Well, what're yeh waiting fer - why not take a ride round the paddock?"

With that, he turned back to Madam Maxime shrugging.

"I wonder what she's doing here anyway," Hermione asked thoughtfully. Harry did not answer; he had a more pressing concern to worry about.

"Are you sure he won't mind us riding him?" Harry asked Hermione, eyeing Merula warily.

"Oh don't be so silly," she replied abruptly. "Of course he won't mind - he'll probably be glad not to be tied to that fence."

She then proceeded to walk around Merula, taking in everything from his mood to his height before saying contemplatively, "Any ideas as to how we'll get onto his back without saddle and stirrups? It's just that he's so tall."

Harry thought tall was a bit of an understatement; he would only just reach Merula's high-arching back with his hands if he were to stand on tiptoe, his arms out-stretched to their full extent. However, he saw that the most straightforward route would be for him to give Hermione a leg-up and then scale the perimeter fence himself afterwards.

"Right then, if you stand by his flank and put your hands on his back - "

"I don't think I can reach," she cut across him again, looking sceptical.

"Do you mind not keep interrupting me?! Look, at least just see if you can reach then I'll give you a boost."

After several unsuccessful attempts Hermione finally managed to scramble ungainly onto Merula's back. The main reason as to why it had been so difficult (ignoring Merula's towering height) was because Merula had not wanted to remain still. Each time Hermione had been on the brink of mounting him, Merula would sidle away, resulting in both Harry and Hermione falling painfully forwards into the muddy ground. By now, their robes were looking extremely bedraggled.

Harry wiped his mucky hands on the sides of his filthy robes in the vain hope that they would be a bit cleaner, before clambering onto the fence. It swayed violently and he clung tightly to the damp wood, barely managing to keep on.

"Do you think you could bring him a bit closer so I at least have a chance of mounting him?" Harry called out to Hermione while Merula wandered as far from the rocking fence as was feasible whilst still being securely tethered to it. Hermione appeared doubtful but nevertheless, she did her best to coax him back to the now-still fence.

Once he was within grasping distance, Harry took a hand off the fence and took a handful of Merula's thick mane. He then went ahead and heaved himself onto Merula's back just in front of Hermione, who put her arms about his waist.

Leaning across Merula's neck, Harry unclipped the lead rope from the metal ring on the fence post. There were no reigns but Harry decided their best bet would be to attach the lead rope to the other side of Merula's halter. This would at least provide him with some makeshift reigns to hold onto.

Harry swung himself upright again, only to have to lean over Merula's neck on the other side. Inside him, Harry's chest cried out in protest as he stretched further than it could stand, his muscles were still sore. Despite the pain, he made no sound but merely grimaced as he righted himself once more.

By this time a large proportion of the class were either riding their horses or flying them around the paddock. Once or twice, Harry thought that some of the horses were going to collide but they did not; each time they veered away sharply just at the last moment. Not sure whether he would enjoy the flight or not, Harry nudged Merula sharply with his heels. Merula broke into an ambling walk, then a grudging trot and next moment he was cantering, Harry and Hermione just about managing to cling on.

Before Harry was quite ready for him to do so, Merula had spread his magnificent black wings and left the ground smoothly. It was an odd feeling, to begin with Harry thought it felt like a cross between riding a horse and riding an eagle. But that could not be right, he told himself as he thought back to the time during his third year when he had flown on Buckbeak the Hippogriff. Buckbeak had been a cross between an eagle and a horse and the sensation Harry was experiencing now was not the same as the rocking motion Harry had felt then. This was much smoother and definitely more comfortable; when Harry had ridden Buckbeak, the Hippogriff's wings had kept catching him painfully under his knees.

While Harry was still attempting to determine what riding a Winged Horse felt like, there was an unexpected pop and suddenly he, Hermione and Merula had disappeared from view. Harry heard Hermione's startled gasp right in his ear. All around them there were many yells of surprise from their peers and classmates as they saw them vanish.

Harry felt very queasy as he looked down to where Merula's shoulders had been only moments before because where Merula should have been there was nothing. Harry could still feel Merula beneath him, and Hermione clinging painfully tight to him around his waist. Her response to Merula's sudden disappearance was to grasp Harry in a firmer grip to reassure herself that she wasn't going to fall.

Having done a full circle around the enclosure, their steed came into land. Merula's hooves hit the ground with a series of loud thuds, nearly jolting Harry - and so consequently Hermione also - from his seat. Harry craned his head around to see most of the class looking about wildly, obviously wondering where he and Hermione now were.

"Harry, should we dismount now or wait until he reappears?" Hermione's voice came floating over his shoulder. Before he could respond, however, a second loud popping noise announced the reappearance of Merula and therefore him and Hermione too.

"I'd say when he reappears," said Harry turning round and grinning at her.

There was a tumult of noise as people (mainly the girls) screamed in shock for the second time, then Harry and Hermione found themselves in the midst of an excited, chattering crowd consisting of almost all the class. Ron was one of the few who had not rushed over. Instead he was standing by his Aethonan looking surly. Harry raised one leg over the lustrous neck of Merula so he could slide off easily. He then took Hermione's hand and helped her down gently as she too swung a leg over Merula's neck.

Neville had managed to edge up to Harry's elbow, where he stood gawping at Harry, apparently too awe-struck to notice all the people jostling him. Seamus, accompanied by Dean, had pushed his way over and was telling both Harry and Hermione how amazing it had been. Then Hagrid sidled over.

"Break it up there kids, break it up. Come on now, yeh've all got yer own horses to be takin' care o'."

People began to go back to their own horses and they all spent the remainder of the lesson feeding, grooming and watering them. Just as the bell rang faintly across the lawns, Hagrid boomed out, in his west-country burr,

"Now, like ah said at the beginin' o' the lesson yeh'll be takin' care o' yeh horse fer the next few weeks. So, I want each of yeh ter come down ter this paddock an' feed 'em twice a day. Ah'll also be wantin' yeh to keep a logbook of yer observations. Right, yeh can go an' have yer lunch now."

Harry and Hermione made to follow the rest of the class who were streaming across the grounds back up to the castle but Hagrid called out to them, "Harry, Hermione - could I have a word?"

Feeling a little surprised they doubled back obligingly.

"Dumbledore told me what yeh did, Harry," Hagrid said, visibly swelling with pride. He then turned, beaming, to Hermione who took a step back nervously.

"Yer a very fortunate girl, Hermione, ter have someone esteem yeh so greatly. Now you both better make sure yeh take good care of each other - thar's dangerous times ahead fer yeh both if I'm not much mistaken. I also want yeh to look out fer Ron an' all; don't leave 'im out - he deserves your attention too.

"Now, I'm not gonna lecture yeh anymore but bear in mind what ah've said. Ah'm gonna be goin' away fer a l'il while; Dumbledore's got another job fer me an' Olympe, an' we'll be leavin' Hogwarts tonight."

"What is it you've got to do?" Harry asked him keenly, but Hagrid shook his head slightly and yanked them both into a bear-hug embrace.

"Can't tell yeh that," he said gruffly. "Jest keep yerselves outta trouble, ok? I'll see yeh in a couple o' weeks..." and with that, Hagrid turned on his heel and made his way back to his cabin where Harry could see Madam Maxime waiting.

"I wonder what he's up to this time?" Harry mused aloud.

"I think it'll be something to do with the giants, like before. Dumbledore has probably asked Hagrid and Madam Maxime to extend the olive branch to them," said Hermione confidently.

"Hmmm, maybe. Hagrid's right though; we'd better go talk to Ron." Harry sighed looking as though anything else in the world would have been more appealing than approaching Ron right now. They made their way slowly back up the castle, not saying very much.

When they reached the entrance hall Harry poked his head around the double doors into the great hall. Most of the school appeared to be in there, commencing on their lunches but as Harry could not see Ron at the Gryffindor table he suggested to Hermione that they ought to go up to Gryffindor tower as that was the most likely place for Ron to be sulking.

*

They stumbled across Neville, Dean, and Seamus hurrying down the spiral staircase leading to the boy's dormitories.

"You don't happen to have seen Ron anywhere since Care of Magical Creatures have you?" Harry inquired of them.

Neville let out a frightened whimper and looked fearfully over his shoulder as Dean muttered darkly, "He's up in our dormitory, but I'd give him a wide berth if I were you, Harry. He's in such a temper."

They scurried past, heading for the portrait hole. Harry turned to Hermione who looked tense. "You probably should wait here. I'll try talking to him first..."

Hermione nodded slowly, then went and sat down at one of the tables. She rummaged around in her bag for a minute or so before finally pulling a battered black leather-bound book out of it.

Gritting his teeth, Harry started to climb the winding staircase. He took a deep breath then pushed open the door whose sign read, 'Seventh year boys.'

Harry found Ron lying on his back on his four-poster, frowning furiously at the curtained canopy above him. When he saw Harry framed in the doorway, Ron's frown deepened to such an extent Harry would never believed possible, before turning on his side with his back to Harry.

"Ron, we need to talk,." Harry said taking a tentative step towards his friend.

"Get lost, Harry," he snarled. "We have nothing to discuss."

"Oh but I think we do," Harry replied, his temper beginning to get the better of him.

"Really? Do I look interested?" Ron spat and Harry glared at him.

"This is stupid! I never meant for this - " Harry began but Ron did not let him finish,

"No you never do, do you?" His voice was deadly quiet and shook with suppressed rage.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked coolly.

Ron had sat up and was positively seething with fury as he fixed Harry with a look of intense loathing. Harry almost quailed under that look alone and he retreated back a step. There was nothing but icy silence from Ron.

When Harry could bear the charged atmosphere no longer he said, "Well?"

Ron raised an eyebrow. "Well what?"

Harry repeated his question "I asked you what you meant when you said I never do mean for things to happen."

Ron dropped his gaze and stood up before saying, "I don't want to talk about it with you; I don't want to talk to you about anything."

He had started walking towards Harry with the intention of going down the stairs.

"Well that's just tough isn't it, because neither one of us is leaving until we get this sorted," Harry said as he barred the doorway.

"Get out of the way, Harry." Ron's dangerously quiet voice was back.

"I'm not moving," was the stubborn reply Harry made.

What occurred next happened so quickly that nobody quite knew exactly what was going on. First, Ron walked over to Harry with the belief that Harry would stand aside. When Harry remained defiantly where he was, Ron lost his temper and made a swipe at Harry. This probably would not have been a problem if Harry had not just happened, by chance, to turn his head to the right at that very moment. But as he did, Ron's arm connected with Harry's already-injured left temple, causing him to lose his balance. Harry saw Ron's arms reach out and clutch wildly at thin air in slow motion as he began to tumble backwards. He felt a pain in his head such as he had never known. His vision began to go dark around the edges as he slipped out of consciousness and the last thing Harry saw was Ron's anguished face as he watched Harry fall helplessly.

*

On a bleak and desolate moor-side the crumbling ruins of an ancient and once-magnificent castle stood, lonely and abandoned. Or so it would seem.

The castle was in fact, still in its prime. The walls withstood the never-ceasing battering thrown at them by the harsh weather as well now as they had done when they were first built, if not better; for there was a strange magic at work on and around the castle. Any person who possessed no magic would see nothing more than a dangerous ruin, damp and derelict. It was a place they would avoid at any cost. However, a magical person on the other hand would see even less; the hillside would appear to be empty apart from miles of withered grass covered sparsely with gorse bushes, heather and bracken. Unless of course they knew the castle was there.

Then they would see it as clearly as daylight. Few people knew of the castle's continued existence, therefore the people who inhabited it were guaranteed peace and privacy. Or at least they were, until a crisp, breezy October's morning when a cloaked figure appeared on the castle's porch; appeared so suddenly and silently that one might have thought he had just popped out from the very air itself.

The cloaked figure pulled the rope-like cord adjacent to the oak double-doors and heard a distant tinkling from deep within the castle. Many minutes slipped by with the black-robed person waiting patiently on the doorstep, until finally echoing footsteps from the other side of the door announced some else's arrival.

An old lady in a full-length, navy blue dress with lacy white apron heaved the oak front doors apart, but only very slightly. She peered out and gasped. The cloaked figure was a doddering old man, so frail looking that one good strong gust of wind would probably have been enough to separate all his quivering particles. The woman rushed to open the door to its full extent, whilst bustling the man inside.

"Come in dear, come in," she puffed, apparently still out of breath from her long trek across the length of the castle.

"Bless my word!" she exclaimed when she had recovered her breath. "How ever did you come to be here?" She cast her eyes over the bleak moor side that surrounded them for many undisturbed miles.

She shooed him in and hurriedly closed the door on the cold draughts that were threatening to engulf them from outside. Neither the man nor the horse-keeper was aware that they were being watched; a boy with scruffy black hair was hovering above the castle on an invisible Winged Horse. His name was Harry Potter.

"Take us down, Merula," Harry whispered to his horse as he tugged the reigns gently. Obediently the horse came in to land on the springy heather two hundred yards away from the castle entrance.

Harry was bewildered. Where was he? He had a strange sensation that he had been here before but he could not remember ever having seen this splendid castle's profile previously. However, what he was most confused about was the fact that he remembered arguing with Ron in the common room not all that long ago. So how did he suddenly find himself flying over a desolate heath? What strange magic was at work here? Perhaps he was dreaming... Harry pinched his leg harder than was necessary, but as it hurt it ruled out the possibility of him being in some bizarre dream. Then he vaguely remembered falling backwards - had he fallen through some kind of portal that had transported him to wherever he was now? He was not certain that portals existed, but then with the magical word nothing seemed to surprise him anymore... But then he thought, 'if I did fall into a portal or something, how did I come to be flying on Merula's back? Surely he could not have come through the same portal?'

The unanswerable questions chased each other around Harry's brain until he felt dizzy trying to keep up with them. Then, with a jolt, he had a horrible thought; what if he was dead? He shook himself mentally. How could he be dead? He was not the pearly white translucent colour of a ghost and he seemed solid enough... He was just being paranoid. Stop panicking, he told himself.

He shrugged, trying to shake away all the weird questions buzzing within him. He then swung his leg over the horse's back and jumped down. He could immediately see that he had reappeared. Moments later, a loud popping sound behind him told him that Merula had followed suit. Sure enough, when Harry turned around, there stood the muscular frame of Merula.

He isn't so bad after all, Harry thought as he patted Merula's broad black shoulders. Flecks of foam surrounded his mouth as Merula nudged Harry's hand, hoping for a sugar lump or a carrot, perhaps. Realising what he was after Harry turned out his pockets saying, "Sorry boy - I don't have anything for you I'm afraid. How about eating some of this grass?

Merula snorted and gave Harry a look unmistakable as a derisive stare. Harry shrugged again, "Suit yourself. I'm going to try and get into that castle - will you wait out here for me?"

Tossing his head, Merula whinnied. A second loud POP and Merula had vanished from view once more. Harry sincerely hoped that Merula would reappear again when the time came for them to leave. He threw a last hopeful glance at where he thought the horse might be, before trudging quietly up the stone steps leading to the castle doors.

Before he had got much more than half way up the stairs the air around him rippled as though in anticipation of something. Instinct told Harry that he was not safe here. Feeling very exposed, Harry raced up the remainder of the steps three at a time and ducked down behind a life-size statue of a man on a plinth next to the doors.

He had barely dived out of sight when several wizards apparated on the porch. Harry stopped himself crying out just in time. They were all clad in hooded black robes and every one of them wore a white mask. Harry felt a harsh jolt in the region of his stomach as the realisation hit him; they were death eaters.

Harry nervously flattened himself to the wall and sunk as low to the ground as was physically possible. He was incredibly glad that the statue he had ducked down behind was of a large beefy man - it made it a whole lot easier for him to remain obscured from the view of the death eaters.

Suddenly Harry wondered if he was in a memory. In his second year at Hogwarts Harry had fallen through the pages of an enchanted diary, the diary of Lord Voldemort when he went by the name of Tom Riddle. Then in Harry's fourth year Harry had managed to get inside a pensieve containing Dumbledore's thoughts.

If Harry was in fact in someone else's memory then he would, like both occasions previously, be little more than a phantom to the people of this era. They would neither be able to see, hear or feel his existence. However, Harry felt it would be best not to leap out of his hiding place for the possibility still remained that he was not in a memory. He did not fancy revealing his presence to the death eaters when he knew what kind of welcome he would receive should he do so.

Just then one of the death eaters started talking, tearing Harry's concentration away from his own thoughts.

"Every thing is in place, we will wait for His signal," came the low growling voice of the death eater nearest the spot Harry hid himself. Harry was left in no doubt as to whose signal it was they were waiting for, but he hardly had time to wonder what the signal might be when a piercing scream cut the air more effectively than a knife. The swarm of wizards before Harry all raised their wands and bellowed in unison,

"OBLITTERARE"

Without further ado, the doors melted. Nothing remained. Not a single hint of the thick wooden doors that had withstood hundreds of cruel winters was left. Harry gulped - the death eaters had entirely blotted out the existence of those doors. He started imagining what they would do if they knew he was crouched here only feet away from them and gulped again.

A considerable length of time passed before Harry dared to leave his concealed place, he wanted to be absolutely certain that all the death eaters were gone before he emerged. The shrill screams were still ringing out and all of a sudden Harry's voice was joining the other. His scar was searing with a blinding pain, far worse than he had ever experienced before. He felt himself losing consciousness again, but before he did he distinctly remembered feeling stone-cold hands grabbing him and hauling him away.

*

Everything was dark. Harry's eyelids were too heavy to open so he kept them tight shut. He could sense people around him, they were murmuring to one another but the voices were all a jumble. Then he heard someone sobbing uncontrollably. He recognised the sound of the voice as being Hermione's. His brain came into clearer focus and he heard her saying the same sentence over and over, "He's going to die, isn't he? Oh God, he's going to die..."

Harry wanted to console her but started to panic, as he became aware that he could not move. He relaxed slightly though because he heard the calming voice of Dumbledore. "Miss Granger, do not fret yourself so. Harry will be fine I am sure of it."

"Why won't he wake then?" came Ron's would-be calm voice.

There was an awkward pause then -

"As to that, Mr. Weasley, I cannot say."

Harry's eyes snapped open as Hermione wailed again and he made a motion with his hand in an attempt to reach out to her. He was beginning to feel his limbs again, he could barely move them.

Ron, Hermione, and Dumbledore all stared at him; Madam Pomfrey was there too. Harry heard Ron say his name in relief and Harry opened his mouth to say something in response, but next moment his eyes rolled up inside his head as the pain in his scar started again. He was dissolving into blackness once more and there was not a single thing he or any of the others could do about it.

*

The stone-cold hands were gripping Harry's shoulders tightly and he was vaguely aware of someone shaking him roughly. He opened his eyes groggily and found he was no longer in the hospital wing.

Harry was no longer on the porch either, but he was certain he had returned to the strange citadel where the Death Eaters had materialised. He stared at the person clutching his shoulders and blinked. It was not really a person at all but the statue he had dived behind. Harry stood gaping at him.

"Er - I don't mean to be rude, but wha - who are you?" Harry asked when he had at last regained the use of his vocal cords.

The statue-man did not answer, just held Harry tightly in his stone grip. He was squinting at Harry shrewdly when he said, "You are the Potter boy. How did you come to be here?"

"I - don't - really - know," Harry replied falteringly. "I thought I must have got into in some else's memory somehow, but I can't have done - not if you can see me..."

"Those masked men, were they His followers?"

Harry was bewildered by the sudden change of subject but nodded nevertheless, "Yes; they are called Death Eaters."

Harry looked around and saw he was at the bottom of a stone chute, similar to the one behind the one-eyed crone's hump back at Hogwarts. The statue-man looked pensive and did not seem to be about to explain anything so Harry cleared his throat loudly and said, "Sorry, but I still don't really know who you are or where I am."

Man-of-stone fixed Harry with his cold stare, before answering. "I am the likeness of the great Siegfried Eryx. This castle was his home while he was alive, I was commissioned in memory of him and have stood by the entrance welcoming visitors (who are mercifully rare) for centuries.

"Here at this castle, you are in the bleakest, most untouched region of Scotland's far north, far further north than your Hogwarts. And yet you have been to this place before, have you not? Only you did not enter it by those doors, did you? But instead by the means of a book."

It took a minute for Harry to register what stone-Eryx had said. "So this is where Siramad brought me," Harry said, thinking that this explained why he had the strange feeling he had been here before. "How did you know I came here?"

"Siramad is the master of this castle now and I heard him speak of his idea to bring you here, as he walked past me and down the front steps with a man I have never seen before. That is how I came to know of your being here."

"Do you know why the Death Eaters are here?" Harry asked.

"It is my belief that they are here to question Siramad about his meeting with you. I have heard unlikely tales you see, and someone has spoken of the Dark Lord's having heard rumours about Siramad helping you. He Who Must Not Be Named is anxious to learn of what Siramad has told you."

Harry looked aghast. "What should I do?"

Statue-Eryx gazed at Harry stonily, "Do? Why should you do anything?"

"Because it's my fault. Siramad - "

"It is not. It is Siramad's own fault, he could have told you what he did without letting anyone else know, but he wanted to tell people he was going to help dispose of you-know-who. It was his own vanity that brought him to this." Eryx's cold reply cut Harry short.

Harry simply stared meekly.

"I still feel responsib - AAARRGH!" Harry screamed as his head felt as though it was going to split down his scar. He vaguely remembered thinking, no not again, before he was plunged into that sickening darkness once more.

*

This time, however, his mind remained active. He seemed to be in neither the hospital wing, nor at Eryx's castle. It was as though he had got stuck somewhere in between, where there was nothing. No sound, no colour, no texture, just never-ceasing blackness. It unnerved him no end. He could not even tell whether he was standing or sitting or lying. There was simply nothing in existence except him.

Harry lost track of how much time had passed, for all he knew it could have been only a matter of minutes or it could have been a number of days; there was no time-scale here, wherever here was... Harry was almost glad when his scar burned agonisingly into his forehead; it would at least mean he would be pulled from this in-between place.

Sure enough, he felt himself slipping away and when he opened his eyes he found himself in the damp stone corridor, lying beneath the chute as he had before he had left. The statue was nowhere to be seen so Harry got unsteadily to his feet. He felt extremely weak and shaky, but made his way slowly along the passage all the same. He came to a door at the end that was locked. Harry felt into his pockets until he located his wand. Having pulled it out, he muttered "Alohomora" a useful spell Hermione had shown him in his first year, which unlocked most locks.

The lock clicked and Harry eased the door open to find he was in the very same corridor, with the twelve doors, that he had arrived in when he had taken the portkey. Thinking back, he remembered that Siramad had been in the room behind the second door on the left. Should he try it again?

Something was telling him that if he went through that door now, he would not be coming out again in a hurry. But on the other hand someone might come through any of the doors at any moment and then where would that leave him? Dead probably...

Making up his mind, Harry tried the first door on his right. It creaked on its hinges noisily. Cursing his luck, Harry hastily dashed in and closed the door again, looking frantically around the thankfully deserted room for a hiding place. It appeared to be a storeroom of some kind and was filled to bursting with boxes and trunks of varying shapes, sizes and degrees of shabbiness.

Harry selected a large trunk obscured in shadow, which looked big enough for someone taller than he was to fit inside reasonably comfortably and dived in. Pulling the lid to, Harry left enough of a gap to peer through. The minutes lengthened and still not a soul emerged into the store cupboard.

Harry decided that his presence must have gone unnoticed after all and hauled the lid of the trunk off. As he was putting it back, he caught sight of something glinting in the depths of the case. Intrigued, he reached a hand in to pull whatever it was out.

Harry gasped - it was a dagger. Not just any dagger, though. It was made of a metal Harry did not recognise, a cross between the colours of gold and silver merged spectacularly and flawlessly into one. There was barely sufficient light in that darkened room to see by, yet crescendos of light played across the blade taking his breath away.

Harry was so mesmerised by the dagger that he failed to notice the creaking of the door as someone entered the room stealthily behind him. Suddenly Harry felt a hand thrust roughly over his mouth and a stony voice in his ear, "Hark at ye! I could have killed you had I been one of those Death Eaters!"

Warm relief swept over Harry, as he understood who had crept up on him. The hard hands loosened their hold allowing him to turn and stare into the disbelieving face of Eryx's statue.

"You're not fully here are you?" Eryx said giving Harry a shrewd calculating look. "I thought you'd died the other week, when you just blacked out on me. Went as cold as ice you did! But you look and feel alive enough now... "

Harry's mouth was just hanging open.

"Catching flies are you?" came the cold voice.

Harry, feeling sheepish, closed his mouth as he cast about for something sensible to say. "Hang on - You said you thought I'd died 'the other week,' but I was here talking to you earlier."

"There's something strange going on here and no mistake. You've been lying back in that passageway as though dead for ten days! How could you have been out of it for so long and not realise it?" said Eryx, looking confused.

"Ten days?" Harry uttered faintly. He had been in that strange void for ten days without truly realising it. He gave an involuntary shudder.

"I don't know how it is you came to be here, nor what in heaven's name is going on but there's one thing I'm certain of and that is you're not safe here. I know you wanted to help Siramad but it's too late for that now, he's dead.

"He finally revealed to the Dark One what he told you; the PrÃ'cerius charm. To make matters worse he also told He Who Shall Remain Nameless who you need to sacrifice in order for the charm to work. Your friend is in very real danger." Eryx said this in an urgent whisper.

"What should I do?" Harry cried weakly, feeling as though the ground had just fallen away from beneath his feet.

"Get back to Hogwarts. You-Know-Who hasn't managed to get passed Dumbledore's defences there yet. But take that knife with you." Here he glanced at the shimmering dagger still clutched in Harry's hands, "it belonged to my counterpart when he lived. No one knows of its continued existence and it is a shame for such a great thing to be left unused, so I want you to have it. But for goodness sake, let no one and I repeat no one know that you have it - do you understand me? People would kill for that dagger. By giving it to you I am intending for it to protect you not put you in worse danger."

"But why is it so great?" asked Harry awe-struck.

"Because," said Eryx speaking so low and hurried that Harry leant forward, afraid he would miss what Eryx said next, "this is the blade of Carmen-Eversor... spell-destroyer."

Eryx looked as though he would have said more, but was cut short by people talking out in the hall,

"Did you just here voices?"

"Sounded as though they came from in there..." came the all-too-familiar curt voice of Lucius Malfoy.

Harry's blood froze as the door burst open, revealing two astounded death-eaters. It was lucky for Harry that they were so surprised because it gave him time to push past as statue-Erxy detained them. Harry sprinted to where the door of the passageway was and found nothing but solid wall. Without thinking, as though he had meant to do it the whole time, Harry plunged the blade of the Carmen-Eversor deep into the stone right up to the hilt. Instantly the wall melted, revealing a gaping hole large enough for Harry to squeeze through.

Harry barely had time to marvel at what the knife had just done when angry snarls of fury broke forth behind him. He thrust the knife into his pocket so he could use both hands to scramble up the stone-chute, praying its blade would not pierce his leg. All the time expecting for one of the death eaters to either catch up with him or stun him with a spell. Yet miraculously he made it to the top of the chute still in one piece.

Just as he was tearing down the steps and thanking his lucky stars, there was a series of popping noises around him as at least twenty hooded and masked Death Eaters surrounded Harry, accompanied by a red-eyed, snake-faced fiend; who was none other than Lord Voldemort himself.

The stabbing pains in his scar started up once more, but this time Harry somehow forced himself to remain conscious. The thought of what Voldemort would do to him, should he tumble into the desolate nothingness once more, was enough incentive for Harry to overpower the waves of intoxicating insensibility that threatened to engulf him.

"Well, well, well! If it isn't our good friend, Harry Potter," sneered the cold, cruel voice of Voldemort. "What? Leaving so soon? And you haven't even had a chance to greet us yet!"

Voldemort started sweeping down the stairs towards Harry, his black robes billowing out behind him. Harry spun stupidly on the spot casting his eyes around, desperate to find a way out. But there was none - the death eaters had arranged themselves in a tight circle, filling even the gap where Voldemort had been standing. Harry was sick with dread - he couldn't possibly see a way out of this one. Unless -

Harry speedily plunged his hand into his robe pocket and brought out his wand, pointing it at Voldemort, who merely laughed his far too high laugh, while his eyes glinted dangerously.

"Use your disarming spell on me if you will, but it will not produce the effect you are hoping for." Said Voldemort grinning maliciously and holding out his wand, "this is not my wand; Wormtail kindly leant me his. Do you think I would allow you to trick me into the same spell twice? Foolish boy."

Harry was totally gob-smacked. It was as though Voldemort had read his mind, for Harry had just been considering trying to produce Priori Incantatem - the reverse spell effect. This threw Harry completely and he stood stock-still feeling very vulnerable.

"You're friend Mr. Siramad very kindly told me of his meeting with you. It is a pity he went to so much trouble to help you Harry, for his efforts will be wasted when I kill you now. You should have sacrificed your precious Mudblood when you had the chance." Voldemort leered. He was clearly enjoying this. Harry could see he could not believe his luck that Harry had walked into their midst so unprotected.

Several loud thuds resounded behind Harry, who turned to see nothing besides the ring of Death Eaters now looking quizzically at each other. Harry was confused for a moment, then immediately understood as he heard a gentle horsy snort in his ear. Voldemort looked suddenly suspicious.

"Tell me," he said coldly, "how is it that you came to be with us today? Surely Dumbledore would not send his defender out alone and unprotected."

"What makes you think I'm alone?" asked Harry coolly.

Voldemort's nostrils flared, looking flatter and more contorted than ever. He cast his eyes about them for some other sign of life. Harry was trying hard not to look in Merula's general direction, as he did not want to give the horse's presence away. Then Harry's heart leapt as he felt Merula kneel down onto his front knees beside him.

"I don't see anyone else here. Why do you bluff Harry? Do you not want to feel alone? Well, you need not worry about that for I will be sending you to meet your parents very soon." Harry could tell that Voldemort knew there was someone or something else here, but was trying to make Harry give it away.

There was a very brief pause, then - "You wish," Harry spat suddenly as he lunged awkwardly onto Merula's invisible back. Voldemort let out a howl of fury and just before Harry disappeared from sight, one of the death eaters raised its wand and bellowed, "AVADA KEDAVRA"

Harry felt a thrill of horror as a flash of green light sped towards him. Impulsively he made to pull the dagger out of his pocket but, inexplicably, found it was already in his hand. Split seconds later, the spell hit the blade with such force that knocked the knife tip backwards, where it sank deep into the flesh of Harry's leg. The spell ricocheted off, hitting one of the masked men. The death eater it struck fell to the floor like a stone as life was wiped from his body.

Wasting no more time, Harry pulled the knife out of his leg as he and Merula - now both fully invisible - soared upwards and hurried back to the aegis of Hogwarts.

*

Harry began to drift in and out of consciousness, as blood seeped continually from the gaping wound on his thigh. The pain was not really the issue as he felt almost completely numb; no, the problem was that every so often he felt himself slipping sideways off Merula. He knew that to fall off completely would be certain death as they glided hundreds of feet above rocky mountain terrain.

Hours later, when the sky was turning a deep blue with stars bursting forth rapidly and Harry was just beginning to feel that he could last no further, the many turrets and towers of Hogwarts Castle swam into view. The horse did not seem to realise that Harry would not be able to muster enough strength to get back into the castle by himself, and proceeded to land in the paddock, next to some lean-to stables that must have been erected since Harry's last Care of Magical Creatures lesson.

However, fate must have been on Harry's side because there was a gasp and someone exclaimed, "Good heavens!" as he and Merula appeared. Harry slid off and landed in the grass with a thump.

A light clicked on in the stable as an elderly witch with grey hair clinging closely to her face stepped out. It was Professor Grubbly-Plank - the temporary Care of Magical Creatures teacher during Hagrid's absence. Her wrinkled face peered at him in concern as she crouched beside him and rolling him over.

"What have you been doing, Potter?" she asked frowning at him, then catching sight of the blood blossoming on his robes she cried, "Oh my! We had best get you up to the hospital wing."

She was remarkably strong for a lady her age, for Professor Grubbly-Plank hauled Harry upright and supported him all the way up to the fourth floor. Their progress was agonisingly slow, but as Harry reached his last reserves of strength the ward door came into view. Only minutes later Harry found himself in the cosy subtly lit hospital wing.

A very strange scene befell their eyes. Harry blinked. He could see himself tucked up in a bed with Ron and Hermione seated either side of him, while Dumbledore stood at the foot of the bed having a sombre conversation with Madam Pomfrey and a large black dog sat alertly by his feet. Harry was still trying to take in what he was seeing when everyone (except the Harry on the bed) turned to look at him, all wearing matching expressions of disbelief and astonishment.

"Harry?" squeaked Hermione in disbelief as Madam Pomfrey took deep, steadying breaths. Dumbledore was looking thoughtful and Ron just appeared to be nonplussed. They all kept looking between the two Harry's, as though in an attempt to appreciate what was happening. Professor Grubbly-Plank let go of Harry abruptly in surprise.

Harry felt the last of his strength leaving him and made a tremendous effort to reach the other him. No one made any movement to stop him they were all too bemused. Upon reaching himself, he did the first thing he could think of, which was to grab his wrist (the wrist of the Harry upon the bed that is). Instantaneously, he left the confused scene as he slipped out of consciousness.

*

"But Albus, surely he can't have been - I mean to say, he was solid! I half carried him up here!"

"I do not fully understand it myself, Hester. Yet that seem the only feasible explanation."

Harry heard voices around him, but did not really understand them. He felt rather light-headed, and opened his eyes somewhat groggily. He could see that he was once more tucked up in bed in the hospital wing. As heartily sick of waking up to find himself in the ward as he was, Harry could not help but feel glad that he was in familiar territory - it has been most unnerving to suddenly find himself in a strange castle without fully knowing how he had arrived there.

Having squinted around, Harry was able to ascertain that he must have been standing over himself only a few minutes ago as Madam Pomfrey, Dumbledore, Professor Grubbly-Plank, Ron, Hermione and the shaggy black dog that was Sirius were all crowding around his bed, apparently still in shock. The other him was nowhere in sight, however.

Harry was still trying to get his head around what had just happened when he suddenly became very aware of six pairs of eyes staring straight at him. He tried to sit up, but immediately felt extremely dizzy as his leg seared with pain.

Harry yelped, clutching at his leg and Dumbledore swept forwards, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Lie still Harry, you'll feel better in a moment," said Dumbledore quietly before turning to Madam Pomfrey, "Poppy - would you mind taking a look at his leg please?"

Harry saw her nod slightly. She then proceeded to draw back the bedclothes carefully. Harry heard her gasp loudly and, peering down, he got the distinct impression that he must have lost a lot of blood, now understanding why he felt so light-headed; the once-white sheets and his blue paisley pyjamas had disappeared under a sea of red. The sight of so much blood made Harry feel particularly faint, so he hastily closed his eyes. Harry heard the sounds of footsteps retreating a short distance before returning, accompanied by Madam Pomfrey saying softly,

"I'm afraid this is going to sting a little, Potter."

Harry briefly felt the sensation of a liquid being poured onto the wound just above his knee, when he suddenly felt as though his leg was on fire. He swore vehemently as he writhed around jerkily, also hearing Professor Grubbly-Plank exclaim, "Well really!" just as Dumbledore said very firmly and loudly, "Poppy - no!"

Harry's eyes were beginning to water as the pain in his leg intensified harshly and he thought that the potion appeared to have done nothing more than aggravate his injury. This was confirmed seconds later as Dumbledore said thoughtfully,

"This is no ordinary wound - that healing potion may as well have been poison for all the good it has done. No, this wants thinking about..."

A momentary silence fell only to be broken almost straight away by a beautiful and unearthly music. From the first note of the mournful yet melodic tune, Harry felt his pain and anxiety ebbing away. He opened his eyes to see a breath-taking bird perched on Dumbledore's shoulder, bearing red and gold plumage; it was a phoenix.

Fawkes fluttered down onto Harry's duvet and Harry extended a hand out to the bird. After a moment, which had passed with Fawkes appearing to consider Harry thoughtfully, Dumbledore's phoenix hopped over to Harry's injured limb. Thick, pearly tears splashed down from the bird's eyes, landing on the gash in Harry's leg. Phoenix tears are renowned for their healing properties, however, something more than a little bit unexpected was occurring; as each shimmering droplet touched the gaping hole it hissed and sizzled, while jets of steam issued forth.

Harry closed his eyes once more and grimaced. When he next looked down he saw that Fawke's tears had sort-of worked. There was no longer a gouge of torn flesh, but it was evident that there had been one. Usually a phoenix will repair an injury entirely, but Fawke's tears, though magic enough heal the cut, were not sufficiently powerful enough to rid Harry's leg of the scar it now bore.

"Harry, would you mind holding out your right arm for me, please?" Dumbledore asked him quietly. Judging by the looks on Ron and Hermione's faces, Harry could tell that they were as bewildered by this request as he was.

"Um... yes, of - of course," said Harry, looking curiously at Dumbledore and extending his right arm. While Harry was still pondering the relevance of his arm, Dumbledore was scrutinising Harry's elbow and upper arm closely. Finally he said,

"This was the arm pierced by the basilisk's fang five years ago, was it not?" Harry nodded dumbly and Dumbledore continued. "Well, as you can see, no trace of that wound remains and it too was healed by Fawkes. Harry, could you enlightened us as to what created the cut on your leg - for only an immensely powerful magical object could have resisted the healing potion and phoenix tears."

Harry closed his eyes, wondering how much to tell Dumbledore. He had no problem with telling Dumbledore about the knife but he was less enthusiastic about the fact Madam Pomfrey and Professor Grubbly-Plank would know about it too. Harry heard Eryx's words sound in his head once more -

"Let no one and I repeat, no one, know that you have it... People would kill for that dagger..."

Making up his mind, Harry opened his eyes and tried to sound as convincing as possible -

"I can't remember."

This pronouncement was followed by a series of low rumbling growls and Harry felt his cheeks go very slightly pink as he realised that Sirius had seen through him straight away.

Dumbledore surveyed Harry with his penetrating gaze, before saying, "Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, I think that it is time for you both to return to your dormitories." As they got up to leave, each bidding Harry good night and looking s trifle confused, Dumbledore turned to Madam Pomfrey and Professor Grubbly-Plank.

"Poppy, Hester would you mind leaving us? I need to speak to Harry alone..."

"But Professor, look at the poor boy! He needs rest! I must insist - "

Dumbledore did not let her finish, however, "Poppy - this is a matter of great importance. Kindly do as I ask."

Madam Pomfrey looked as though she might have argued some more, but contented herself with merely shaking her head as she strode briskly into her office. Professor Grubbly-Plank stared after her for a moment before recollecting herself.

"I'll take my leave of you then, Albus. I had best finish tending to the horses."

Dumbledore watched her go, then as the door of the hospital wing clicked shut he glanced at the great black dog before turning to Harry.

"Now then, Harry. Are you going to tell us what caused your rather spectacular wound?" said Dumbledore quietly, indicating the man who had just appeared at Harry's bedside as he spoke. Harry scowled at Sirius, who glowered back, before starting to speak.

"I'm sorry, Professor - it's just that I didn't really want everyone else to know too."

"Yes, I surmised as much." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled slightly under his half moon spectacles, but his face remained serious.

Harry took a good deep breath, then began to tell them everything. He had wondered if he should tell them about his and Ron's argument, which seemed to have been the start of the whole bizarre scenario, but as he started to mention it, Sirius waved an impatient hand at him and said, "Yes, yes - Ron told us about that. What we want to know is what happened after that."

"Alright, I was just getting to that part - though I don't really understand it. I remember seeing Ron try and grab me as I fell backwards, but then there's a bit of a gap because the next thing I can remember is flying on Merula's back over a wild and desolate moor."

"Er - Merula? Who's Merula?" Sirius asked, looking puzzled.

"Oh! Sorry - Merula is the name of the Winged Horse Hermione and I are looking after in Care of Magical Creatures."

"He is a Thestral, I believe?" Dumbledore said softly.

"Yes. We came across a frail old man clambering through the heather, but I did not speak to him. We merely followed him and he led us to a castle. A lady came to the door and let him in, but neither of them knew Merula or I were there because we were - "

"Invisible," Sirius finished his sentence for him. "What I'd quite like to know is how you could be both lying in a heap at the bottom of a staircase and flying on the back of a Winged Horse across the countryside."

Sirius was looking at Dumbledore as he spoke, apparently hoping for an answer. If Sirius thought Dumbledore was going to tell him what he thought, then he was mistaken for when Dumbledore next spoke it was only to say, "Please continue, Harry."

So Harry told them about dismounting Merula and climbing up the stairs at the castle entrance, then ducking behind the statue beside the door when the Death Eaters suddenly apparated onto the porch. He also told them about the screaming, wondering as he did so who it was that had screamed. He paused before continuing,

"Then the Death Eaters all pointed their wands at the door and shouted something - an incantation I think - and the doors! They just melted! There was nothing left - no dust or charred wood or anything! After that they all crossed the threshold of the castle and disappeared. I waited behind the statue for a bit - I wanted to make sure that they had really gone - and just after I'd crawled out from behind the statue my scar hurt. I felt someone grab me, then I must have blacked out because the next thing I know I'm in here with you Professor, Ron and Hermione all standing over me."

Here he halted. Images were flashing rapidly across his mind so it took a minute for him to realise that Dumbledore and Sirius were waiting for him to persevere. Harry was sorely tempted to ask Dumbledore for his theories on what had happened, but seven years experience of Dumbledore had taught Harry that Dumbledore would not tell him anything until he finished his recital.

"Right... well... where was I? Oh-yeah! So I was here for only a few minutes before my scar seared with pain again and I was sort-of pulled away. Ok, not really pulled away - that's just what it felt like," he added hastily, seeing Sirius was opening his mouth to speak again.

"Then I found myself back at the castle, only I wasn't on the porch anymore. I was in a stone passageway at the bottom of a chute. I wasn't alone anymore either - the stone statue I had hidden behind was there too. The statue-man said he was of someone called Eryx - or something like that - and that I was at Siramad's castle."

Harry saw Dumbledore and Sirius exchange glances, then Harry went on to tell them as much as he could remember of what Eryx had said.

Harry spoke into the rapt silence for many minutes, his voice growing steadily more hoarse throughout. When he got to the part about finding the knife Harry paused again, musing as to what had become of the knife. He could recall putting it back into the pocket of his robes, but he was no longer wearing them. And anyway, he thought to himself, there had been two of himself when he had reached the hospital wing; the knife had been in the pocket of the Harry Professor Grubbly-Plank had escorted, but he was now the Harry who had been lying in the bed. Harry shook his head at the strangeness of the situation, still trying to get his head around the whole thing just as Sirius said, "Well?"

Feeling puzzled, Harry replied, "Well what?"

"Then what happened? Why have you stopped?" Sirius cried exasperatedly.

Harry did not reply, instead he turned to Dumbledore and said, "Er - Professor, do you know where my robes are?"

Dumbledore appeared to come out of a reverie. He looked at Harry thoughtfully for a moment, then -

"I believe they are in that bedside cabinet there." He pointed to the bedside table on Harry's right and both of them ignored the stupefied expression on Sirius's face. Harry pulled open the door and, sure enough, his robes were folded neatly inside.

He hauled them out, noticing that they were slightly heavier than normal. Tentatively, he plunged a hand in the pocket, remembering as he did so the last time the blade had connected with his skin. As he had suspected, the knife was there. He looked up and whispered dramatically,

"This is what I found in the trunk; the blade of Carmen-Eversor."