Harry Potter & The Blade of Carmen-Eversor

"Harry - is this knife what created the cut on your thigh?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

"Yes."

Harry then proceeded to tell Dumbledore and Sirius about Eryx giving him the knife, about the Death Eater's finding them; about the wall melting when he plunged the blade of the Carmen-Eversor into it. He also told them of Voldemort and the Death Eater's surrounding him and of his escape on Merula's back. Finally he told them about the Death Eater casting the Avada Kedavra curse and how it had hit the knife, rebounded off and killed one of the Death Eaters. Here Harry's voice trailed off into silence and the three of them sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

"He knows!" exclaimed Harry abruptly, making both Dumbledore and Sirius jump. They stared at him.

Sirius asked with more than a trace of bewilderment in his voice, "Who knows what?"

"The PrÃ'cerius charm; Voldemort knows I know how to work it - Siramad told him. Siramad also told him about Hermione, then Voldemort killed him. Oh, if only he had never told me the blasted charm, then none of this would ever have happened," Harry burst out savagely

Sirius looked blankly between Harry and Dumbledore.

"Er - who's Siramad? What is this prÃ'cerius charm and what has Hermione got to do with anything? Look would someone please mind telling me what's going on?"

Harry looked imploringly at Dumbledore. Having just relived one of his recent surreal adventures, he did not feel much like reliving another. Dumbledore appeared to have correctly interpreted Harry's glance as he began to inform Harry's godfather of Harry's meeting with Siramad. Exhaustion was beginning to set in upon Harry, so he slid down his bed until he was lying flat on his back. The whole time he had been talking, he had been propped up on his pillows but now felt a burning desire to lie down and go to sleep. Harry must have dozed off, because a little while later Sirius was gently shaking him awake.

"Sorry Harry, I know you must be worn out, but there are a few more things we need to discuss before you can go to sleep."

Dumbledore was peering at Harry too, looking more concerned than Harry had seen him look in a long time. Dumbledore leaned forward and spoke gently to him, "There is a period of some ten days we still have to account for, Harry. Ten days in which you appeared to be dead in every respect except that your heart and lungs were functioning perfectly. Can you tell us what happened in this time?"

"Oh! Yes I can - sorry, I would have said before only I forgot. Before I found the knife but after I came back here my scar hurt again. Like the previous time, I must have blacked out. This time though, I think I got stuck somewhere in between because I didn't come back to the ward, but I was no longer in Siramad's castle either. When I did eventually go back to the castle and Eryx found me, he too thought I'd died; he said something like 'you've been lying as though dead for ten days.'"

"Can you describe this 'in-between' place for me?"

"Er - well, there isn't much to describe. It was just nothingness; I couldn't see, hear, feel or smell anything. It was like I was floating in darkness. There was also no time-scale there either; it was a bit of a shock to learn I'd spent ten days in there."

"A shock?" said Dumbledore sharply, "In what way was it a shock?"

Harry felt quite puzzled. "Er -"

"Let me rephrase the question. Did you feel as though you had been there for a longer stretch of time or a shorter one?"

"A shorter one," said Harry firmly.

Dumbledore gave Harry an odd look, that Harry did not know the meaning of. "You said there was no time scale, yet you are certain that you were there for less than ten days. How can you be sure that there was no time scale?"

Brow furrowed, Harry considered his answer.

"Er - perhaps there was a time-scale then, but it was definitely different from our one."

Dumbledore beamed at him, only adding to Harry's bemusement. Having been quiet for some time, Sirius spoke. Voicing as he did so part of what Harry had been thinking.

"So, are you going to tell us your thoughts on the events of the last two weeks then, Dumbledore?"

"What is it you want to know?" Dumbledore replied. Harry thought he seemed a bit evasive.

"Well - how Harry could be in two places at once for starters!

"I have already given you my theory regarding that," Dumbledore said shortly.

"What?" said Harry looking confused as he sat up once more. "When? I must have been asleep..."

"Shortly before you woke up, Harry." Dumbledore sighed. He looked as though he did not much care for the prospect of going over the conversation again. However, he seemed to understand how important it was for Harry to know what had been said too, because he sighed again before beginning to speak.

"When you walked into the hospital wing earlier, accompanied by Professor Grubbly-Plank, it was as though a fog had lifted from within my mind, showing me a bigger picture than that which had previously been accessible to me. For you see, neither Madam Pomfrey nor myself had been able to come to any satisfactory conclusions as to why you were responding to none of Madam Pomfrey's remedies. A fall like the one you suffered, though serious in its own right, was not potentially capable of rendering you unconscious for the length of time it did. We therefore agreed that something else must have happened also. However, until you set foot in the ward this evening, there were no likely reasons that we could come across.

"Now, I was never left in any doubt about the fact that both versions of yourself were, in fact, both you. There seemed to be some confusion amongst the others initially, for they thought that perhaps the second apparition was someone else who had assumed your form using Poly-juice potion. It was only when you touched the unconscious form of yourself and faded away, that this option was entirely ruled out.

"So the question now was, how could you assume two forms at once? Well, there is a small variety of methods; two of the most likely being time-travel and the Apographonum spell, I believe you have started to learn about this spell in Transfiguration. There were two principal flaws with the time-travel route. First, there was no opportunity for you to travel back in time without anyone seeing you do so and second, even if you had had the opportunity, you did not have the means for you no longer have access to a time-turner. Then I considered the possibility of your performing the Apographonum spell. The main problems with that method, however, were that you have only just been introduced to the spell and therefore have not had any time to put it into practise. Though even if you had, you would have been unable to perform such a convincing replica of yourself, as that is very advanced magic. The fact that you were unconscious only strengthens the argument against your using the spell. Finally, when the second form disappeared it did not revert back to a living creature and as I am sure you are aware, the Apographonum spell requires the transfiguration of a living creature or being.

"There was one other possibility that occurred to me; that you had spirit-travelled."

"I what?" asked Harry keenly. He caught a glimpse of Sirius's face and was surprised to see that he was surveying Dumbledore sceptically.

"Spirit-travelled, Harry. Spirit-travel, or soul-release as it is sometimes called, occurs when part - or all - of a person's soul leaves their body temporarily. After your experiences with Dementors you should know that a person can still be alive even if their soul is destroyed. Well, on that basis, it is also possible for a person to survive if their soul still exists but becomes separated from their body.

"The most common form of spirit-travel is through dreams; part of a person's soul leaves the body and what it experiences is passed on via a dream. However, this is a different sort of dream, like the ones you have experienced before awaking with your scar hurting, to ordinary dreams. For spirit-travel dreams are not really dreams at all, but visions while the body sleeps."

"So when most people dream - does that mean part of their soul has left them?" Harry asked, only understanding half of what Dumbledore was describing.

"No; perhaps I am not explaining myself clearly enough. When most people dream they are shown visions based on information the subconscious part of their brain has accumulated during the day. The images are muddled so, usually do not reflect reality. However, when someone spirit-travels during their sleep they see what they believe to be a dream, but are actually seeing what I described before; visions while the body sleeps."

"So, you think that I've spirit-travelled before?" Harry inquired incredulously. "Hang on a minute. In my dreams/visions with Voldemort, he didn't know I was there, but this time he saw and spoke to me. Why could he see me this time but not before?"

"And if Harry really did spirit-travel, how was it that he was as solid as though still in his body?" Sirius added in a low, disbelieving voice. Dumbledore sighed heavily and stood up. He paced the foot of Harry's bed a couple of times before returning to his chair across from Sirius.

"As for your question Harry, Voldemort has not been able to see you previously because only a small part of your soul has been released. It would only have been faint and indistinct therefore Voldemort would only see it if he knew it was there. Otherwise the part of your soul would have been too difficult to distinguish from the surrounding air..."

Dumbledore lapsed into thoughtful silence. Both Harry and Sirius waited with baited breath for him to speak again. Many minutes crept quietly by and still Dumbledore showed no inclination that he would continue. When Harry could bear the suspense no more, he said -

"Er - Professor?"

Dumbledore looked up slowly.

"Er - are you going to - to tell us why I was solid?" Harry asked in a hesitant voice. It was a moment before Dumbledore made any indication that he had heard him.

"To be honest with you Harry, I'm not entirely certain." Seeing Harry was still peering at him expectantly, Dumbledore felt obliged to continue, "I can give you my theory Harry, but it is no more than that.

"The gift of spirit-travel is rare; almost as rare as the ability to converse in parsel-tongue, and because it is almost impossible to see a small part of the soul when it is separated from the body many people do not believe it exists. Now, I say 'a small part of the soul' because those who have been able to separate a small part of their soul from themselves have only ever separated a piece of it. It generally being believed that to release the whole soul was too dangerous in case it was destroyed while it had no body to protect it.

"As there are so few spirit-travelers, and those who do possess the gift keep it quiet, it is difficult to conduct any conclusive studies in the field. However, until now, there have been no recorded cases of complete soul-release and this leads me to think that perhaps the information gathered on the subject of partial soul-release is not applicable to that of complete soul-release."

Glancing at Sirius, Harry saw that his godfather's expression almost exactly mirrored his feeling of bemusement.

"Are you both following me so far?"

"Er - " said Harry who could not honestly say he was.

"I think I understood most, but could you tell me how someone can break a piece off their soul without damaging it?" Sirius said, still looking puzzled.

"I'm no expert on the matter and I myself cannot spirit-travel so I don't know exactly how a person can split their soul, but I can tell you why it happens without damaging it.

"The soul is quite different from the body - if you were to take one of your arms off it would be a very messy and painful business, and yet someone's soul can be severed many times without it suffering at all. The main reason behind this is that, while the body is connected to each of its parts rigidly, the soul is more like a gas in its configuration - it can move freely, allowing foreign bodies to pass through it. As it is not bonded so compactly, it is easier to break the few bonds holding it together. With fewer bonds to break, less damage is done."

"Ok, thank you... Though you still haven't explained why Harry's soul was solid." Remarked Sirius, looking at Dumbledore suspiciously.

Harry thought that it seemed as though Sirius too had noticed Dumbledore was being evasive - normally Dumbledore would not go off explaining something else until he had finished explaining what he had already started.

"There is no need to be so impatient, Sirius," Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling again, slightly. "It was you who asked me to explain about severing souls, remember?

"Well, my reason for thinking that partial release is different from complete release is simply because in the only instance of complete release the situation has changed. Firstly, when a person spirit-travels they can normally only remember a small amount of the visions they saw - Harry, on the other hand, remembers almost all of his experiences. Secondly, the person's soul cannot be seen by anyone else, nor their presence be known about in any other way - whereas Harry could be seen, touched and heard. Thirdly, the soul is unable to participate in conversations - Harry was able to hold intelligent conversations -"

"Well, that makes a chang," muttered Sirius dryly.

Harry opened his mouth to make a sarcastic retort but Dumbledore was already talking again, so he merely shot Sirius a disgruntled look.

"Fourthly, a person who has released their soul while they sleep can be awoken straight away and the wandering part of their soul returns immediately. Sirius, I need not remind you that Harry would not awaken until his soul returned to him of its own accord; we were unable to wake him for even a brief stretch of time. And lastly, when a person is spirit-traveling their soul is wispy and undetectable. Harry was entirely solid - it was almost as though his soul had created another, temporary body for itself."

"Harry had two bodies?" Sirius asked harshly. "How can that be possible, Dumbledore?"

"The only feasible explanation that has occurred to me is that it is some sort of defence mechanism; one that only comes into action when the soul is entirely removed from the body."

"But then, when a Dementor... performs its... its kiss," here Sirius gave an involuntary shudder and Harry felt an icy shiver pass through him at the mere thought of the Dementor's last - and worst - weapon; the Dementor's kiss. This involved a Dementor clamping its jaw over a person's mouth and sucking out their soul. "Why does the soul not create its extra body to defend itself?"

Dumbledore frowned. Not at Sirius as such, but more because he was trying to decide how to answer. "Harry - you said that there was a bit of a gap in your memory just after you fell down the spiral staircase, am I right?"

"Yes..." said Harry slowly.

"And you don't remember anything, anything at all, between your fall and flying on Merula?" Dumbledore prompted.

"No," Harry said, wondering what this had to do with anything.

"Then it would appear," Dumbledore began after a moment's reflection, "that the soul requires some time in which to focus all its energy into making its substitute vessel. I am presuming that Harry has no recollections of this period because his soul was preoccupied with concentrating on firming itself up. This would therefore explain why a soul does not defend itself when attacked by a Dementor - it does not have enough time."

"So, if it was spirit-traveling, then what caused me to do it just at that moment?" Harry pondered aloud.

"Another defense mechanism?" Sirius suggested, shrugging.

"I'm not sure, Harry," Dumbledore said as he stroked his beard reflectively. "But Sirius, you could be right. This wants some thinking about..." Dumbledore lapsed into thoughtful silence once more. Then stood up and started pacing the hospital wing again. He stopped at one of the windows, peering out of it for a few minutes before swivelling to face Harry.

"Do you think you could try to control the release of your soul?"

"I guess I could try," Harry said, feeling a little taken-aback by the way Dumbledore had spoken. He had sounded almost urgent. "Professor - are you alright?"

"Yes Harry, I'm fine," Dumbledore replied quietly. "I'm just a little concerned that every time you spirit-travel you seem to be drawn to Voldemort."

There was a very pregnant pause.

Dumbledore gazed out of the window once more. Harry could not really see the point in his doing so; it was so dark outside that he would not be able to see anything.

"What do you mean - drawn to Voldemort?" asked Sirius at last. Unable to keep the anxiety he felt out of his voice.

There was another pause and Harry was just beginning to wonder if Dumbledore had heard Sirius, when Dumbledore shot Sirius a penetrating glance before answering. "I mean what I say; Harry's soul is drawn to Voldemort. In every instance in which Harry has spirit-travelled, his soul has taken him to where ever Lord Voldemort is. Those dreams he had were not dreams at all - they actually happened... Harry, have you released your soul at any other time besides the ones you have told us about?"

"Um... I don't think so. But then I still don't know how to tell the difference between normal dreams and these vision things."

"Please could you describe to me what your visions felt like?" Dumbledore was looking at Harry intently.

"But Professor - I haven't had one for ages and I can't really remember much of what happened -" Harry protested.

"I did not ask you to tell me what happened, but what they felt like."

Harry thought back to his last vision of Voldemort. It had been almost half a year ago now and he could barely remember what it had been about. But then, Dumbledore had said he did not want to know what had happened... Harry concentrated hard on trying to remember some strange feeling that was different to any he had felt while dreaming, but he couldn't. The only thing he could remember was how vivid and real his vision had been. He lay there, glowering up at the ceiling for a minute or so more, when it suddenly hit him - the vision had been more real than just a dream.

"The visions felt real," he pronounced decisively and Dumbledore smiled at him. Harry had a sneaking suspicion that Dumbledore had already known the answer but was just trying to get Harry to find it himself.

"Have you noticed any other differences between the visions and your dreams?"

Harry scowled. His mind was reeling with all that he had learned this evening and he was finding it difficult to concentrate properly. What he most wanted was to lie down and have a nice long sleep, as he felt as though he had been awake for days. He thought back to his visions again; what else was different besides them being real? Well, they seemed more normal. Unlike in dreams he did not flit randomly from one place to another and the things he saw were - well - logical. He did not see blue lions, flying fish or anything else that was unnatural in his visions. He repeated these thoughts to Dumbledore who looked pleased.

"Now you will be able to know when you are just dreaming and when you are spirit-travelling," said Dumbledore.

"But we still don't know how he can control where he goes and what he does," Sirius pointed out, looking almost as tired as Harry felt.

"One step at a time, Sirius. If Harry knows he is spirit-travelling then perhaps he can make a conscious effort to control his spirit-self. There is something else I want you to think about, I'm afraid, Harry. There has to be a reason behind soul-release occurring when it does, but unfortunately I cannot see it at present. I don't expect you to come up with an answer yet, Harry - all I'm asking is for you to consider the circumstances of each vision to see if you can find any connections..."

Harry nodded, then yawned widely.

"I think perhaps we ought to leave you to get some rest now." Dumbledore smiled kindly at Harry, who was just beginning to nod again when a sudden thought occurred to him.

"Wait a minute, Professor - there are a couple of things I want to ask you about. May I?"

"You may Harry," Dumbledore replied. He crossed over to Harry's bed and sat down again.

"The knife; when I told you about the knife, Sirius said he thought that they'd all been destroyed - but why were they destroyed?" Harry was watching Dumbledore as he said this and so saw him exchange a worried glance with Sirius. Harry was intrigued.

"Do you know what the Carmen-Eversor does, Harry?" Sirius answered him at a nod from Dumbledore.

"Eryx told me that the knife destroys spells," Harry replied carefully. Sirius looked meaningfully at Dumbledore, who then said, "Was that all Eryx told you?"

"Yes. Well, he did look as though he was going to say more, but then the Death Eater's found us so he couldn't. Why?" asked Harry, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Because Harry, the Carmen-Eversor does more than just destroy spells, it -" began Sirius, but stopped speaking abruptly at a glance from Dumbledore. Harry and Sirius were both staring at him quizzically.

"What? What else does it do?" Harry could not understand why Dumbledore had stopped Sirius telling him; apparently Sirius did not understand either. He was staring at Dumbledore with raised eyebrows.

"Dumbledore, what...?"

But Dumbledore started to talk over him. "All the Carmen-Eversor knives - or at least almost all of them - were gathered up and destroyed for the simple reason that they were too dangerous to be allowed to exist. Think of what could happen if they fell into the wrong hands. For example, imagine what would happen should Lord Voldemort get hold of one..."

"Was that the only reason?" asked Harry, who suspected that Dumbledore was keeping something from him. Dumbledore, however, ignored the question. Instead he said, "You said there were a few things you wanted to know - what else do you wish to ask me?"

Harry continued to look at Dumbledore suspiciously, trying to catch his eye. He gave up in the end because Dumbledore was staring determinedly up at the ceiling. "Well - there is some stuff I still don't really understand about spirit-travelling. Like, for instance, why my leg was injured when it was my soul that got stabbed."

"Hmmm..." Dumbledore mused, absent-mindedly stroking his beard. "Again I can only give you my suspicions Harry, I do not know for certain. It is my belief that when your spirit-self reverted back into your body it transferred everything it experienced over to your original form, including your memories and injury. For when you received your wound initially, we were unaware of it - it only became apparent that you were hurt when you returned."

"And why is it that my soul returns when my scar hurts?"

"Good question, Harry. It is one I have no answer for," Dumbledore said calmly.

Harry stared at him blankly. He was accustomed to feeling that Dumbledore had all the answers so it threw him slightly to find that Dumbledore could not answer this question.

"Harry - after you returned here for the first time and the statue found you, you told us that he said you'd been lying on the floor, apparently dead for ten days. Is that correct?" Sirius asked him thoughtfully.

"Er -yes." Harry was beginning to fell quite fed-up by the fact that every time Dumbledore or Sirius altered the subject with a question, he could not see the relevance of it.

"Then it would appear that this time your soul - if you really did spirit-travel because I'm still not convinced that that is what you did - did not completely return. Well, if it had then the statue-man would not have been able to see you still... So Dumbledore, tell me, why is that? Every other time Harry's soul completely returns, yet on this occasion only part of it did." Sirius was looking at Dumbledore intently.

Harry got the distinct impression that he was doing all he could to find a flaw in Dumbledore's soul-release theory. This puzzled him profoundly. Why was his godfather so adamant that he - Harry - had not spirit-traveled?

"Another example of the situations surrounding both partial and complete soul-release differing," said Dumbledore simply.

Sounding somewhat dubious, Sirius replied, "And you think there's nothing more to it than that?"

An invisible beam of understanding passed between them and Harry saw Sirius's jaw drop. Sirius closed it again quickly, now appearing completely satisfied with what Dumbledore had said, though far from happy about it. Harry yearned to know what was going on, for he was perceptive enough (even in his current state of exhaustion) to realise that there was an underlying message to all that had been said tonight, though it was a little beyond his reach.

He knew better than to ask either of his companions about it directly, however, for they would either deny all knowledge of there being one, or else tell him that it was a matter merely between themselves. Well, either way, Harry thought to himself, they're not going to tell me so why bother wasting my breath. The ironic thing was, that this was one occasion that, had Harry wasted his breath, he would have found out what he was so desperate to know. It was a few moments before anyone spoke again. Harry, who had been gazing at the reflections on the ceiling, cast by the Carmen-Eversor, was the first to speak.

"What I most want to know," he said in a quiet voice barely more than a whisper, "is why the Avada Kedavra curse didn't kill me. I mean, I thought it was meant to be unblockable..."

"Who did you say cast it?"

"What? Er... I didn't; I don't know who did it." Harry once again failed to see the connection between his question and Dumbledore's. Sometimes Harry wished that Dumbledore would just get straight to the point without asking seemingly irrelevant questions first. This was one of those times.

"So it wasn't Voldemort?"

"No, it was definitely one of the Death Eaters. Which one, though, I couldn't tell you. Does it matter?" Harry asked, immediately wishing he hadn't.

The expression Dumbledore now wore made it all to clear that it did matter.

"I am assuming that the curse hit the flat part of the blade and was deflected as had the spell hit the edge of the blade it would have been destroyed. You are perfectly correct, Harry, when you say that the Avada Kedavra curse is unblockable. However, there are one or two exceptional circumstances. When two powerful contradicting spells are thrust against one another, neither of them works quite how it would be expected to. The Avada Kedavra curse is meant to be unblockable and the Carmen-Eversor knife was designed to... destroy spells. When they collided, the Avada Kedavra curse did not kill you but the knife did not destroy it either. The compromise that entailed was that Avada Kedavra was deflected.

"The blade of Carmen-Eversor is derived from an older magic than that from whence Avada Kedavra curse came. Therefore, on that basis, I would be inclined to say that the knife is the more cogent of the two, though I still have my doubts..."

"What is going to happen to the knife?" asked Sirius suddenly.

Dumbledore looked politely puzzled. "What do you mean, 'what is going to happen to it?'"

"Well, you're surely not going to let Harry keep it," here Harry shot Sirius an outraged glance, "so I was wondering what you are going to do with it."

"And why wouldn't I let Harry keep it?" Both Harry and Sirius goggled at him.

Dumbledore merely blinked as Sirius, still dumbfounded, attempted to answer.

"But - you - he - the others were destroyed because they -" Sirius stopped and just shook his head in disbelief.

"I can see no reason why Harry should not be allowed to keep the knife, so long as he exercises the same caution with it as he does with the Marauder's Map," said Dumbledore very seriously, looking directly at Harry as he spoke.

Harry now fought back a mad desire to laugh at the look on Sirius's face. He was opening and closing his mouth, apparently speechless. If Sirius had been dumbfounded a minute ago, it was nothing to what he was now; he appeared to be floundering like a fish out of water.

When Sirius at last recovered enough to speak, he said in a voice full of astonishment, "Harry has the Marauder's Map? Why didn't you tell me? Hang on, How do you even know about it?"

Both Harry and Dumbledore ignored him and Dumbledore said, "Now Harry, I want you to appreciate the importance for you to keep this knife a secret - do not let anyone know that you have it. And make sure you use it wisely - it is a deep, impenetrable magic so any mistakes will be difficult to rectify. Do you understand me?"

Harry nodded, but muttered, "Does that mean I can't even tell Ron and Hermione?"

"I will allow you to tell them, but they are to be the only exceptions. And I would like to speak with them first."

Thinking that this sounded fair, Harry nodded again. Sirius was looking slightly put out about something, but Harry did not get a chance to ask why as Dumbledore had stood up and was saying, "Well, I really think that it is time for you to get some rest now, Harry. Anything else you wish to ask me can wait until the morning. Goodnight."

Sirius also uttered a good night before transforming into his dog form. Dumbledore strode over to Madam Pomfrey's office and rapped on the door lightly. There was no answer so Dumbledore assumed that she was asleep and left the ward, the black dog trotting in his wake.

The lamps began to dim and Harry hurriedly snatched up the knife from off his bedside cabinet, cramming it back into his robe pocket. He then proceeded to put these in the cupboard as he began to close his eyes sleepily.

Harry's exhaustion was so complete that he was asleep almost before his head touched the pillow.

*

Harry slept better that night than he could remember ever having slept, so he awoke the following afternoon feeling utterly refreshed.

On opening his eyes, Harry saw that Hermione was avidly reading an old-looking, black leather bound book in a chair at his side. He also saw Ron pacing the foot of his bed anxiously. Neither of them were aware that he was awake until he sat up and put his glasses on, bringing the ward and its contents into sharper focus.

"Harry!" Hermione squeaked, obviously relieved. Ron stopped pacing and looked up. He then rushed over and plonked himself down on the chair opposite Hermione's.

"How - how are you?" he asked hesitantly.

"Like you care," Harry replied, glaring coldly at Ron, who looked as though Harry had just brandished a whip at him.

"Harry - that's not fair," said Hermione sharply. "You have no idea how worried we have both been."

"No - I do. You're right, that wasn't fair of me. I -"

But Ron cut across him, "No, I deserved that but I really didn't mean for..."

It was Harry's turn to interrupt Ron. He could see that Ron had suffered enough, "I know, just forget it. No, forget it!" he repeated as Ron was opening his mouth uncertainly.

"Look, if anything, you've probably saved my life."

Both Ron and Hermione looked confused.

"Harry, what...?"

"Has Dumbledore spoken to you?" They nodded mutely, so Harry continued "What did he tell you? Everything that happened, or..."

Hermione glanced quizzically at Ron before answering, "He told us everything that happened to you when you spirit-travelled."

Harry was not sure whether relief or annoyance was the more prominent of his emotions. While he was exceptionally glad he would not have to relieve his experience all over again, he had wanted to be the one that told them about it.

Harry sighed resignedly, "But did he tell you that I've spirit-travelled before?"

The look on their faces made it evident that he had not. Then Ron said, "You never told us before that you can spirit-travel."

"That's because I didn't know before," said Harry impatiently, "I just thought it was dreaming. You know the times when I've woken up with my scar hurting? Well, Dumbledore reckons I was spirit-travelling then and so my dreams weren't really dreams at all - they actually happened."

Harry saw that Ron was looking nervous as he asked, "Um...You said I'd probably saved your life - in what way did I save you?"

"Well, every time soul-release occurs I always seem to go to where Voldemort is," Ron gritted his teeth at the mention of Voldemort, "So if it hadn't been for you none of us would know that I could spirit-travel. At least now I can try to control it when it happens, because if I meet Voldemort again..." Harry trailed off meaningfully.

Hermione was looking horrified; Ron awkward. After a charged silence Hermione said, "Harry - do you know why you're soul comes back when your scar hurts?"

Harry's brow contracted slightly, "No actually. I asked Dumbledore last night, but he said he doesn't know. I guess we could try asking him again later; there's some other questions I want to ask him."

"What else do you want to know about?" Ron asked curiously.

"Er -" Harry had wanted to ask Dumbledore if Hermione would be safe or not, now Voldemort knew about her part in the PrÃ'cerius charm. However, he did not want to make her look even more horrified than she already did, so he cast about for something else he could say.

"Dumbledore told me that spirit-travel is almost as rare as being able to speak parsel-tongue, so I was wondering how it is that there is so much more known about soul-release if that's the case..."

Ron was giving Harry a slightly wary, almost disbelieving look but remained quiet. Thinking about the PrÃ'cerius charm triggered Harry to have another thought.

"Hey, Hermione - I've just remembered. The day after we met Siramad when we were talking to Dumbledore you said that he had already performed the PrÃ'cerius charm. How did you know?"

Hermione let out an impatient 'tuh'. "Do you two ever actually read any books? Well anyway, you did know that Dumbledore defeated the Dark wizard Grindelwald back in 1945 didn't you?" she said testily, ignoring the fact that both Harry and Ron were scowling at her. "Well, he performed the PrÃ'cerius charm in order to do so."

"What did he sacrifice?" asked Ron in an awed voice. It took a moment for Harry to realise what Ron had said.

"Oh! So you know about the PrÃ'cerius charm too, do you?" Harry said, blushing as he did so.

"Yeah, Hermione told me while you were still out cold." Ron replied, smirking at Harry's red face. Harry chanced a glance at Hermione and saw that she too had turned pink. A slight pause followed Ron's statement, only to be broken by Hermione a few seconds later.

"I don't know - the book didn't say what he sacrificed... Not that I'm surprised, though. It was a bit personal."

"Hey!" shouted Ron excitedly. Harry stared at him. "Um... I just had a thought," he said sheepishly.

"I wondered what that funny whirring noise was," Harry muttered.

"Well," Ron continued giving Harry a mock-offended glare. "We all know that Dumbledore is the only one You-Know-Who is fearful of. Maybe it's because Dumbledore's stronger than him in the sense that Dumbledore was prepared to give up his most precious thing, but You-Know-Who isn't. Maybe You-Know-Who thinks Dumbledore will use the charm on again, but on him this time..."

"That's a really good idea!" Hermione exclaimed warmly, "There had to be more to it than just because Dumbledore saw through him at school, and this could be it!"

Harry had just opened his mouth to congratulate Ron on his new found brilliance when the hospital wing door burst open, revealing the last person Harry would have expected to see.

Draco Malfoy swaggered forwards, alone. There was no sign of Crabbe or Goyle at all, and Harry noticed that Malfoy did not seem to be quite his usual confident self.

Upon reaching the foot of Harry's bed, Malfoy stopped and put his hands in his pockets. No one spoke. Ron and Hermione were glaring at Malfoy who leered back before turning his attention to Harry. Harry was surveying his adversary with pronounced mistrust.

"Was there something you wanted?" he inquired lightly.

Harry saw Malfoy's gaze flit to Ron and Hermione before returning back to himself. "I want a word with you, Potter; alone."

Harry was intrigued. Here was Malfoy, who never usually went anywhere without his blundering bodyguards, standing alone asking for a private word and without sneering once. Something must definitely be bothering Malfoy and Harry was too fascinated to pass up an opportunity of finding out what, should it arise.

Ron was the first person to speak up, however, "Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of us."

Malfoy gave Ron a contemptuous glance and for a moment looked as though he was going to make his usual scathing retort. However, he remained silent much to everyone's surprise.

Harry eyed Malfoy steadily for a little longer. He then turned to his friends, "Ron, Hermione - could you give us a minute?"

"I'm not leaving," Ron replied flatly, "I don't trust him not to try anything while you're still injured."

"That's a bit coming from you; I mean you're the one who put him in here in the first place," Malfoy sneered malevolently.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Ron hissed angrily, his ears reddening as he took a step closer to Malfoy.

"Oh, don't I? You really ought to learn to control that temper of yours, Weasley. It could get you into a lot of trouble, if you're not careful," Malfoy returned softly.

Harry grabbed a handful of Ron's robes to stop him launching himself at Malfoy. Hermione stood up and stalked around to the other side of Harry's bed to where Ron was seething furiously.

"Harry, are you sure?" Hermione asked him as she took Ron's arm.

"Yes, just go. I'll be fine."

Hermione shot Malfoy one last disgusted glance as she steered Ron out of the ward. Harry and Malfoy watched them leave in silence. Once the door had clicked well and truly shut, Harry turned back to Malfoy, "Well?"

Malfoy ignored him and sat down in Ron's now-empty chair, all the time staring shrewdly at Harry. At length he said, "So, what is it that's wrong with you? It must be very serious for you to miss two weeks worth of lessons."

Harry just blinked at him coldly. He knew Malfoy was here for some other reason than just to make snide remarks for he could have done that in front of Ron and Hermione - their presence had never stopped him before. Harry just wished that he would hurry up and get to his point.

"But then again," Malfoy continued, his eyes narrowing, "It can't have been all that serious if you were well enough to go off gallivanting around Scotland."

Harry stared at him incredulously - how did he know? Then he remembered - one of the Death Eaters that had found him and Eryx had been Lucius Malfoy. Lucius was bound to have sent dear old Draco to snoop around, trying to find out what Harry was doing at Siramad's castle in the first place. Well, he thought angrily, I'm not going to tell him anything.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy," he said curtly. Malfoy's eyes were now mere slits - Harry thought that if he were to narrow them any further they would be closed.

"I know you were skulking around Siramad's castle so there's no point denying it. What I want to know is why?"

Harry longed to say 'well you're just going to have to go on wanting then, aren't you' but thought better of it. He wasn't going to admit to being at the castle.

"Siramad?" Harry asked in what he hoped was an innocently curious tone.

Malfoy glowered at him, "Enough with the act - what were you doing there?"

"Look at me, " Harry replied flatly. "Do I really look as though I'm fit for careering across the countryside?"

Harry had a point. There was just no denying the fact that he, though much better than the previous day, looked very weak and frail in appearance; he had lost quite a substantial amount of weight and had a paler complexion than even Malfoy at present. His normally bright eyes were weary and bloodshot, underlined by deep, dark circle. Malfoy seemed to be considering this - Harry got the impression that he was feeling less self-assured anyway.

Abruptly, Malfoy said, "Stand up!"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard."

"Yes, I heard. Might I inquire why you wish me to get up?" Harry asked mildly, feeling faintly annoyed that Malfoy assumed that he would do what Malfoy commanded him to.

"I just want you to, that's all."

"Ah, but you must have a reason - it'd be pointless otherwise," Harry reasoned.

Malfoy scowled at him sulkily. It was clear to Harry that Malfoy knew Harry had the upper hand, as he rather resentfully muttered, "Fine, I'll tell you. I only wanted to see if you're really as weak as you look or if it's all a front."

It was Harry's turn to glare. "What do you mean?"

"Well - you don't look as though you'll be able to stand up without support, but I just wanted to make absolutely certain that that really was the case."

In response, Harry carefully swung his legs over the edge of his bed, ignoring the stab of pain that shot through his recently repaired limb. Malfoy watched him expectantly as he lowered his feet to the floor. Harry tried to keep his face impassive; he did not want Malfoy to know he was hurting, yet at the same time he wanted to trick him into believing that he - Harry - was not well enough to have been at Siramad's castle.

Harry braced himself as he gingerly put his weight on his leg. For the first few seconds he was fine so let go of the bed. He suddenly swayed and almost toppled over as the pain pulsated through him at full measure. Malfoy had leapt up and was pushing Harry back onto his bed. Even amid his agony Harry felt utter astonishment as his arch-enemy helped him. Harry sank down and screwed his eyes up against the throbbing in his leg. When he had more or less recovered, he opened them to find Malfoy peering at him in an unexpected way.

"Happy now?" Harry grunted savagely.

"Not really - I have nothing to tell my father that he will want to hear," Malfoy replied quietly.

"Your father? What has he got to do with anything?" Harry tried to arrange his face into a politely puzzled expression.

For a split second Harry thought Malfoy looked furious with himself, but the glower that had spread across his face had dispersed almost as soon as it came, leaving Harry feeling as though he must have imagined it.

"My father saw you at Siramad's castle," Malfoy said coolly, his eyes narrowed in suspicion once more. "He then cast Avada Kedavra on you, yet you're still here. How did you deflect the curse?"

Malfoy was staring at Harry intently. Harry could tell that he had successfully confused him; Malfoy could not see how Harry could possibly have been wondering around Siramad's castle the day before, by looking at him. Yet his father had been adamant that Harry had been there.

Harry had enough sense to realise that Malfoy was now trying a more subtle approach in the hope that Harry would give himself away. He therefore adopted a confused expression, "I still haven't the faintest idea of what you're talking about. Maybe your Dad saw someone who looked like me..."

"It was definitely you."

Harry raised his eyebrows and replied scathingly, "Well - your Dad must be having hallucinations because I wasn't there. It sounds as though he's losing his touch, maybe he should -"

"I'm warning you Potter, one more word about my father and you'll regret it." Malfoy's eyes were glinting and his usually pale complexion was slightly flushed. Harry immediately realised that he had touched a raw nerve.

Deciding not to press his advantage, Harry replied, "Ok, ok - if you still don't believe I wasn't there then go ask Madam Pomfrey - she'll tell you."

Malfoy stalked off to Madam Pomfrey's office shooting a suspicious glance at Harry over his shoulder. There some muffled talking, then Harry heard Madam Pomfrey's voice much higher than usual and sounding somewhat insulted,

" You think I can't tell when my own patients are seriously ill? How dare you! Get out -go on..."

Malfoy hastily came back into view, being chivvied along by a very harassed-looking Madam Pomfrey. Harry smirked as Malfoy was forced out of the hospital wing.

No sooner had the nurse slammed the door behind Malfoy and stormed back to her office, fuming to herself, the door opened once more and Ron and Hermione strode towards him.

"What was all that about?" Ron asked as soon as he had settled himself back into one of the chairs at Harry's bedside.

Harry proceeded to tell his friends everything Malfoy had told him - which hadn't been much. When he had finished, they all seemed to be wondering the same thing.

"Why did he come to see you, though?" Hermione mused aloud. "I mean, I would have thought that his pride would get in the way of his asking you for anything."

"Well, there's something fishy going on, that's for sure!" exclaimed Ron. "That has to be the only time I've ever seen Malfoy go anywhere without Crabbe and Goyle. I wonder why he came alone..."

"Yeah, me too. He did seem pretty edgy about something - I wonder what it could be..." Harry replied pensively.

"What's bothering me most is, why did he stop you from falling over?" Hermione said looking both thoughtful and puzzled.

"Yeah - I would've expected him to just sit there and laugh in my face... Er - what day is it?"

Ron looked u at him slightly surprised. "It's Friday. Er - what's the day got to do with anything?"

"Hmmm? Oh - nothing, I was just wondering, that's all."

"First Quidditch match of the season tomorrow," said Ron with a sly glance at Harry who was now looking thunderstruck.

"WHAT???" he bellowed.

"Hey, calm down - ok? We're not playing - it's Slytherin versus Hufflepuff," Ron replied, laughing at Harry's reaction.

"You did that to me on purpose, didn't you?" Harry said feeling slightly affronted.

"Who me? No," Ron replied in an innocent voice that fooled no one. "So," he continued, "What are this years tactics?"

Harry launched enthusiastically into his plans for this year's Gryffindor Quidditch team. Hermione once more immersed herself in the black leather book, as she grew tired of the endless Quidditch talk.

Ron was just making a suggestion about how he thought they could improve their chances for the cup when Hermione gasped loudly and flung down her book. Both Harry and Ron looked up in surprise and were astonished to see that all the colour had drained from Hermione's horrified face. She had her hands over her mouth and was staring transfixed at the book, lying page down on the floor.

"Hermione - what...?" Harry began, looking at her in concern.

"No, don't ask me - please don't ask me," she whispered shakily behind her hands and closed her eyes.

Ron meanwhile had stood up and walked apprehensively over to the book. He merely stared at it, apparently very reluctant to pick it up. He took a deep breath and made to pick it up but leapt back in alarm as Hermione shrieked, "Ron! No! Stop!"

She had reopened her eyes and hurled herself between Ron and the book. Harry watched in speechless dismay as she scooped it up and ran full pelt out of the hospital wing. Ron just stared stupidly after her.

"What was that all about?" Harry muttered in an undertone.

"Beats me," Ron returned, shrugging.

*

Harry barely saw Hermione at all over the weekend and when he did she was very twitchy and secretive. She had point-blank refused to tell them why the book had caused her to react in the way she had and was very apt to changing the subject or slinking away when they continued to badger her about it.

Saturday morning arrived and proved to be extremely cold and wet. Harry laughed heartily at the thought of Malfoy having to play Quidditch in the gale that was hammering unceasingly on the castle walls. Although initially he had been severely disappointed that Madam Pomfrey refused to allow him to watch the match, Harry's disappointment very soon turned to relief. Ron came to visit him accompanied by the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, all looking as though they had taken a dip in the lake wearing their robes.

"It rained then, I see," Harry said mildly, eyeing the pools of water that were collecting on the floor from where the rain had dripped off their cloaks. "Was it a good match?"

"To put it one way," Ron replied, his eyes gleaming.

"Hufflepuff put up a good fight then?"

Natalie McDonald, Eleanor Gavin and Rosie Kier - the Gryffindor chasers - all burst into peals of laughter. "You could say that!" wheezed Natalie clutching her stomach.

"Harry! Harry! Hufflepuff beat Slytherin!" squeaked Colin Creevey excitedly.

Harry's jaw dropped. "What? You're kidding me! Hufflepuff actually beat Slytherin?"

Colin was jumping up and down in his delight as Seamus Finnigan rolled around on the floor clasping at a stitch in his side. Ron was looking serenely happy, an uplifted expression spread across his face.

"Malfoy's face! You should have seen it - he couldn't believe what happened! I wish I had a photo, though," Ron added sounded a tad disappointed.

"Ooh! Ooh!" squeaked Colin suddenly. "I got one! I got one!"

Colin may be sixteen but he appeared to have changed very little since his first year, he was still over-awed by Harry, still shorter than all of his year and many in the lower ones come to think about it, and he was still a camera fanatic. He brandished his camera in a kind of mad ecstasy under the noses of his team mates.

"That's one picture you're definitely going to have to show me once it's developed," said Harry with a laugh as he got to imagining what it would be like.

"I'll go get it developed now!" Colin babbled excitedly, "I've got the solution in my dormitory." And with that he scampered away, clutching his camera fondly to his chest.

"So are you going to tell me what happened?" Harry asked as the girl's giggles subsided.

"Well, there wasn't much going on for most of the game - neither the Hufflepuffs nor the Slytherins had much luck in scoring because the Quaffle kept getting blown off course. But then, after about an hour or something the Hufflepuff Seeker - Susan Bones - did this awesome bit of flying. It was some kind of diversionary tactic.

"You see, Malfoy was closer to the snitch than she was but he hadn't spotted it, so if she were to fly at it Malfoy would see and get there first. What she did instead was to fly in the opposite direction with a look of deep concentration. Thinking she was after the snitch, Malfoy took off after her and managed to get ahead of her easily on his Nimbus 2001, then as soon as he had passed her she did this huge arc-thing - a bit like a loop-the-loop and doubled back. She'd caught the snitch at the other end of the stadium before Malfoy had realised she was no longer behind him. I'm telling you Harry, it was an amazing piece of flying..." Ron said with an odd, dreamy look in his eyes.

"So, how are you now Harry?" Seamus asked as Ron finished talking. Harry cast a sidelong glance at his friend before answering and saw that he was once more looking uncomfortable.

"Um. Yeah I'm doing loads better. Hopefully Madam Pomfrey will let me out of here tomorrow - I think I'll go mad if I have to stay in here much longer, it's so dull!"

"Well, while we're all here," said Ron soberly, "shall we start discussing this season's tactics?"

"Shouldn't we wait for Colin to come back?" inquired Eleanor shyly.

"Oh good point - I'd forgotten he'd gone. How long do you reckon it takes for photos to be developed?"

Apparently not long. No sooner had Ron finished the question, the Gryffindor Keeper returned waving a blown-up colour photograph for them all to see. There was a great tumult of laughter as the team surveyed the profile of a disgusted and disbelieving Malfoy. No doubt attracted by the volume of noise they were emitting, Madam Pomfrey marched into the ward, lips pursed and hands on hips in a threatening fashion.

"And what do you all think you're doing? This is a hospital wing not a Quidditch pitch - or at least it was!" Her eyes flashed dangerously as they swept over the muddy muddles that were accumulating on her no longer clean floor. The team gulped and shuffled backwards nervously; for such a kindly woman it was astonishing how much she now looked like a ferocious tiger.

"This boy needs rest! Now would you all kindly leave before Filch sees the mess you've made."

"But -" Harry protested. He somehow did not think he would be able to survive the remainder of the day without someone to keep him company.

It seemed that Madam Pomfrey knew what he was going to ask for she said, "Oh very well. Weasley you may stay so long as you go and get yourself cleaned and dried first."

She then began to fuss over Harry, taking his temperature and checking how his leg was doing as Harry's team mates trooped out amid many farewells,

"Bye Harry!"

"Later Potter."

"See you in a bit..."

*

The rest of the day passed by fairly uneventfully. As the news that Harry was now properly awake swept through the school, more and more people came to visit him. So many in fact that Madam Pomfrey barred everyone except Ron from the ward.

Dumbledore looked in on Harry just as the sun was beginning to set again, illuminating the hospital wing with rich pinks and reds shot with gold.

"Good evening, Harry," said Dumbledore pleasantly as he sat down.

"Hello Professor. Er - where's Sir - Snuffles?" Harry had been about to say Sirius, but seeing as Madam Pomfrey was still within earshot this would not have been a sensible idea.

"Sir Snuffles?" she exclaimed before she could stop herself, "Who on earth is Sir Snuffles?"

Ron burst out laughing as Harry tried to decide whether a snigger or inward groan would be most appropriate.

"No one you know, Poppy," Dumbledore chuckled.

Looking slightly offended she shook her head and left them to it.

"Er - sorry Professor," said Harry quickly as soon as she had gone.

Dumbledore's eyes were sparkling humorously, "Never mind - no harm done. And Snuffles is in his usual haunt, the mountain side cave. He will be staying in the area for a brief spell before returning to Lupin's."

Harry wasted no more time in asking Dumbledore what he really wanted to know.

"Professor - is Hermione safe now? I mean, Voldemort will come after her now he knows, won't he?" Harry stared earnestly into Dumbledore's face whilst ignoring Ron's wince.

Dumbledore sighed heavily, looking very solemn. "Yes Harry, I believe he will. She is in no immediate danger, however. Though it is essential that for her to take a few extra precautions. Have you informed her of the current situation?"

"No - not yet," Harry admitted.

"Perhaps it would be better if I...?"

Harry nodded. He had not needed for Dumbledore to finish the question. Ron meanwhile was looking very sober.

"She's safe at Hogwarts - but what about when she goes back to her parents?" he asked anxiously.

"Voldemort cannot harm her there," said Dumbledore so firmly that Harry and Ron stared at him, surprised.

"Why not?" Harry queried inquisitively.

"For the same reason he cannot harm you when are in the care of your Aunt and Uncle, Harry," Dumbledore replied simply.

"Which is...?" Ron asked looking completely at sea.

Dumbledore surveyed them both searchingly and had just opened his mouth to answer when a soft voice from the entrance of the ward whispered,

"I can tell you that."

Harry jumped as though he had received an electric shock. The tree of them stared speechlessly as Hermione calmly advanced on them. Her face was pale but resolute.

Dumbledore peered at her in concern, "That's not the way I would have wanted you to find out."

In return she shrugged. "I had an idea that that was the case anyway, so it doesn't matter."

"Even so, I had wanted to tell you in a more gentle fashion."

Hermione nodded her thanks and perched herself on the chair adjacent to Ron's. "So do you want to tell them or shall I?" she said in a small yet distinct voice.

Dumbledore continued to look at her anxiously for a minute or so before replying, "Perhaps it would be best if I did, is that alright?"

"Look, we don't mind who tells us what's going on so long as someone does it soon!" Ron exclaimed pointedly.

"Very well. The reason why Voldemort cannot harm either of you when you are in your relation's care is a simple one. There are very few things Voldemort does not understand - one of them is when a witch or wizard lives as a muggle. He cannot comprehend why anyone who possesses magic would want to get by without it, as muggles do. It is his lack of understanding that is the key.

"Centuries ago, a magic was invoked that would protect any witch or wizard who needed it. So long as they lived like a Muggle - in other words, used no magic - they would be safe from whoever it was that hunted them. Now, this magic's intention was originally to shield young witches and wizards who were hunted by Muggles wishing to burn them at the stake. An underage witch or wizard may not have the ability to perform a freezing charm, therefore meaning they really would be killed if they were captured. However, as witch-hunting died out the magic adapted. It still retained its initial function but could now also protect witches and wizards who are being pursued by Dark magic, so long as the person with the Dark magic does not understand the Muggle way of life.

"Voldemort comes under the stereotypical category of Dark wizards who despise Muggles. He does not understand them and - as I said before - does not understand why a witch or wizard would choose to adopt their way of life. It is because he cannot appreciate their way of life that the magic protects you. Are you following me so far?"

Harry thought he could see what Dumbledore was trying to say, but he wasn't sure. "So is it a bit like how I was protected by my mother's love because he could not understand that either?" he asked in a quiet voice.

"A bit like that, Harry," Dumbledore replied equally quietly. "This time Voldemort cannot see you when you are with your relations because he would see nothing more than just another family of Muggles. His lack of understanding leads him to have a short-sightedness that keeps him from seeing you even though he may be peering through your living room window, so long as you don't use any magic."

"But if Voldemort knows where I live than why doesn't he blow up the Dursley's house while I'm there over the summer, or something?"

"He may know where you live but he doesn't know when you are there and when you are not. I believe he hasn't harmed the Dursleys because their house is the place you are least protected. He has been biding his time, waiting for an occasion when you perform some magic, no matter how small it may, that will break the ancient magic's guardianship over you."

Harry exchanged a nervous glance with Ron. All those times when he had bent the no-magic-in-the-holidays rule could have resulted in his death. It was a very sobering thought.

"Was there anything else you wanted to ask me?" Dumbledore said, breaking the tense pause that had followed his speech. Harry shook his head without thinking.

"Er - actually there was," said Ron throwing Harry a funny look, "we were wondering why there is so much more known about soul-release than parsel-mouths even though you said the ability is almost as rare."

"Simply because these with the ability to speak parsel-tongue keep it even quieter still than those who can spirit-travel. Many of the people who have the ability to talk to snakes never know that they can. Was there anything else?"

It was Hermione's turn to speak up, "I wanted a word with you Professor."

"What about?" he inquired mildly.

"This." She thrust the black book into his hands. For a moment he looked at it curiously - there was no title or name of author on the cover - before opening it cautiously. Harry saw his eyes widen in shock.

"Where did you get this?" he said in a very serious tone.

Hermione shot a frightened glance at Harry before looking imploringly at Dumbledore.

"Perhaps it would be better if we went up to my study."

With that he and Hermione exited the ward in silence.

"I really, really want to know what the big deal is with that book!" Ron burst out crossly.

"Me too," Harry said slowly, though at the same time thinking that perhaps he might not want to know after all.

*

Hours later, Harry was once more lying alone in the darkened ward. He was incredibly tired yet could not for the life of him get to sleep. This was basically because his mind would not switch off; the same questions were buzzing around in circles refusing to let him rest. What does the book say? Why does everyone react strangely? And why - why - did Hermione look at him with fright etched all over her face?

Then he had an idea - he would go find the book and see for himself what it said. The facts that he didn't actually know where the book was and that it would probably be either in Hermione's dormitory or Dumbledore's study did not occur to him. He had just sat up, returned his glasses to their usual spot on the bridge of his nose and reached for his dressing gown when he suddenly drooped back onto his bed in a dead faint.

*