Harry Potter & The Blade of Carmen-Eversor

Chapter Nine

Harry nodded eagerly and Susie sighed. "Would you mind if I don't tell you just yet? It's just I'd rather not repeat myself and Ron and Hermione are bound to want to know too..."

Harry gave her a small smile then shook his head to say that no, he didn't mind. He then took the pendant out of his pocket once more and sat observing it for a moment.

"Are you going to put it on?" Susie asked him, her eyes too scanning the surface of the necklace.

Harry didn't answer; instead he slipped the dark cord over his head and let it fall to the base of his neck. However, nothing happened straight away. After a couple of tensely expectant minutes, Harry sighed disappointedly and made to take it off again but just at that moment, the talisman began to take effect.

The cord began to tighten steadily until it was a snug fit around his neck, but it didn't stop there.
By the time Harry realised the loop was not going to stop getting smaller and he'd tried to get his fingers beneath the cord, it was too late. It was already beginning to dig into the flesh of his neck and Harry knew there was nothing he could do to prevent it from strangling him.

He looked up at Susie and saw her staring wide-eyed and mesmerised by the noose-like necklace. She came to her senses only as she saw Harry mouth desperately, "Help me!"

She leapt forward and together they both frantically scratched at the cord trying in vain to loosen it. Harry sank off his chair onto his knees, a pounding in his ears as he gasped and gulped for air. The pressure on his eyes was excruciating - he felt they were going to be pushed right out of their sockets at any moment and then his vision dimmed and blurred, becoming nothing more than a hazy whiteness.

Harry could hear Susie's anguished sobs as she clawed at the cord but he could no longer feel her nails tearing at his neck. He suddenly became very calm - calmer than he had ever been in his life before as he gave himself up for lost. He waited patiently for the sense of release he was sure death would bring, but it didn't come.

Once Harry had accepted the situation and stopped trying to defy it, something extra-ordinary happened, the noose that was the talisman's cord slackened, releasing Harry slightly from its vice-like grip. The pounding in Harry's ears desisted and the blurry whiteness in front of his view cleared, but the scene it revealed was not that of the hospital wing.

It was a sickening scene that Harry immediately recognised despite having only seen it for barely a second previously. It was the same image of Lupin and Voldemort that Harry had glimpsed when he had pressed the crescent moon on the box. However, it was now clearer and not just flashed at him before being snatched away almost instantly. It remained for many minutes and Harry now had sound to go with the picture.

"You have failed me - I wanted you to take care of the girl not try to take on the boy alone. What kind of a fool are you?" Voldemort spoke softly with his usual leer and Harry was able to discern a bite of impatience in the cold voice as its owner paced back and forth in front of the man Harry knew to be Remus Lupin.

Harry was quick to note that Lupin was in a bad way; he was shaking uncontrollably, slumped on the floor with barely any strength left and his robes were bloodied, tattered and torn. Despite all this he remained defiant for as Harry watched he looked up at his tormentor with glinting eyes, "You're the fool for thinking I'd ever harm them, either of them."

Harry saw the flat nostrils flare on the white-faced fiend at the obstinate words and with a jolt Harry realised what was going to happen as the long, spindly fingers brandished a wand.

"Crucio."

Harry's head became full of Lupin's screams of agony. Desperately, Harry wished he could block them out as each one stabbed him through the heart. Once again he felt responsible for his friend's pain.

However, Harry was not allowed to dwell on this further for the images disappeared as the screams faded and a new picture was thrust into view. Harry was not in the least bit surprised when the new picture revealed itself to be of the black-glass bottle, or more correctly, the black-diamond bottle. What did surprise Harry was the sudden taste that came into his mouth, ensnaring his taste buds. The flavour Harry could sense was unlike anything he had ever known before for it was a combination of so many things; bitter tears, warm blood, sweet happiness, sharp pride, tangy sweat, lingering love and too many other obscure things to list. To put it simply it was the very taste of life itself.

Harry wanted to hold onto that taste forever, but all too soon it was slipping away, along with the image of the dark diamond decanter. Abruptly, Harry felt a harsh fierce wind whipping at his hair and face, then the image of the howling tornado appeared. It was spinning too fast for Harry to be sure who the three people trapped within it were, but he thought that the two standing ones were possibly him and Voldemort. He had no idea who the person lying on the ground was - he could see very little of them; not even enough to tell whether they were male or female. This image seemed to get blown away by the screaming tornado and what replaced it was a hazy and distorted image. The only things clear to see were himself and the fair, purple-robed lady that was Camellia. Harry was unable to ascertain whom she held him back from but the feelings that filled his heart hinted painfully as to their identity.

When the image faded Harry felt as though a piece of his heart was torn away with it but he dreaded the picture he knew he was about to be shown.

However, the scene that formed before his eyes was not quite the one he had anticipated it to be. Nor was it a simple picture, merely pasted across his eyes. It was in actual fact one moment of time frozen for him to examine from any angle he chose. Harry was not looking at the picture; he was inside it.

When at first he entered it he was standing in the very centre of the hospital wing, facing away from the door - towards Madam Pomfrey's office. Directly in front of him was a line of beds, two of which were occupied. In the nearest one an unwelcome figure, looking battered and beaten, was propped up on pillows. It was Draco Malfoy. Harry surveyed his adversary with pronounced disgust, but the rigid form was oblivious to him; instead Malfoy stared unblinkingly towards the entrance of the ward with a peculiar expression on his face that Harry struggled to read.

Harry then turned to look at the person in the next bed. The profile he recognised to be his own and he could just make out a tuft of scruffy black hair, for this vision of himself was lying on its side with its back squarely to the door.

Harry stepped forward with the intention of crossing around to see his expression but stopped and first looked at the other people by the bed. There was Mrs Weasley, one hand on Harry's shoulder while her other arm hugged her daughter tightly. The look on Mrs Weasley's face was one of distress as she was frozen in the act of comforting her only girl.

Ginny appeared to have been turning her face away from the door at the moment the scene was frozen, for she had turned her head to face the wall behind Harry's bed and her eyes were scrunched up tight as though trying to blot out an image.

Harry gave these two no more thought as he turned to see a forlorn black dog at the feet of the nurse, who appeared despondent - perhaps because there was a patient she was unable to make well again. But Harry's attention did not linger long on them and he pivoted so that he was now looking at Professor McGonagall, in tears, and Professor Dumbledore. Dumbledore had balled his hands into fists and appeared to be both furious and deeply grieved. There was no benign smile lurking about the corners of his mouth and the usual light in his eyes was absent as his gaze swept past the two figures just beyond him and towards the door.

The two figures beyond Dumbledore were Ron and Susie. Ron was clearly distraught and had been in the act of brushing Susie aside who stood with her hands on his arm trying to hold him back. Ron too was staring with indescribable sadness at the doorway, but Harry did not follow his gaze just yet. He was instead peering at Susie, surprised to find that she was not looking neither at Ron, nor towards the entrance as Harry had expected. She was in actual fact gazing back over her shoulder, her eyes fixed on the Harry on the bed with a fierce kind of sympathy. Yet it wasn't sympathy; it was beyond that and somewhere mixed into it was expectance and understanding.

Harry now had a burning desire to see what his expression was so he cautiously and apprehensively swept around to stand behind Mrs Weasley and Ginny where he could look into his own face.

The Harry on the bed wore a haunted look; a solitary tear frozen on his cheek. The observing Harry's blood ran cold as he could immediately see with just one glimpse of the other Harry's face that the other Harry knew who it was in the doorway without turning to look. He had been expecting them.

With much trepidation, Harry glanced up and stared at the door. Framed in the doorway was Snape, pale-faced and serious, holding the limp form of a girl. Harry didn't need to look at the girl to know she was dead, Snape's eyes told him that. However, Harry did look at the girl - he had to know he had to be sure. For a long time he stared calmly into the open, glassy eyes of Hermione.

Inexplicably he felt nothing. Not a single emotion surfaced - not even shock. Harry continued to survey her lifeless body, hoping against hope that he would spot some faint glimmer of life - but there was none. She was unmistakably dead.

When he truly appreciated this fact he closed his eyes and bowed his head, trembling lest the flood of emotions that threatened to drown him should break forth.

When Harry reopened his eyes the scene was gone and in its place was a white background with only one object in it. A dead butterfly lay pitifully on the whiteness and Harry became confused as two prominent aromas invaded his nostrils. One was the disinfectanty smell of a hospital and the other was strange. Harry breathed in deeply and became further baffled - it was an emotion. Not just any emotion, however. There was no doubt about it; he was smelling overpowering relief.

As soon as he perceived this the image faltered into darkness and the stench of relief vanished. However, the hospital smell remained. Blearily, Harry opened his eyes. He found he was once more lying on the cold hard floor of the hospital wing with Susie at his side. He saw her face was wet with tears and she looked the picture of distress as she helped him to sit up.

Unexpectedly she flung her arms around him and broke down on his shoulder while he patted her awkwardly on the back. After a minute she regained her composure and drew back, unable to look him in the eye as she murmured, "Oh - Harry, I'm so sorry. It's all my fault! The necklace almost killed you and I told you to put it on..."

Harry opened his mouth to reassure her that he did not blame her in the slightest but no words came out. As soon as he had made to speak, he felt the cat-pendant grow hot against his skin. It grew so hot that he was afraid he was going to be burned but then a warm tingling feeling shot up his neck from where the stone rested on it and carried on all the way up into his mouth.

Susie looked at him questioningly through her tear-drenched lashes. "Can you still not speak?"

"I think I can," said Harry tentatively then grinned in relief as he heard the words roll off his tongue, "Yes, I can."

The two of them got unsteadily to their feet and Harry put a hand to his throat as he had suddenly noticed that it was stinging profusely. Susie sat down on the edge of her bed, but then she caught sight of what Harry was doing and grinned at him nervously and apologetically. "You've got some nice deep gouges torn out of your neck there - sorry about that. I was just rather desperate to loosen the cord..."

Harry turned to look in the mirror on the bedside table and let out a long low whistle as he glimpsed the deep scratches. However, his attention was slightly diverted by the cat-pendant.

"Hey! This thing's turned black - it was red when I put it on!" Harry exclaimed as he examined the reflection of the amulet. The cord it was hung upon was once more tight around Harry's throat but it was not restricting his oxygen supply as it had before. However, it fitted so closely that he knew he would not be able to remove it.

"So it has! I wonder why..." Susie began as she too peered at the pendant but then she caught sight of Harry's expression and asked him in concern, "Harry - what is it?"

For now that the initial distractions of returning to reality and the finding of his voice had passed, the images and sensations he had experienced came flooding painfully back to him.

The most prominent of all was the image of Hermione, motionless and unmistakably dead. Harry began to shiver violently as he tried hard to rid that picture from his head.

Susie stood up and steered him over to the bed and forcing him gently to sit on the edge of the bed beside her. And it was only then, when Harry had taken his weight off his knees that he realised they had been liable to buckle at any second.

"You've got the look of someone whose lost the only thing he cares about," Susie told him quietly whilst her eyes surveyed his mien searchingly. "Want to tell me about it?"

Harry distractedly looked up at her, meaning to tell her that he'd rather not talk about it when he suddenly found the words were tumbling out of his mouth regardless of whether he wanted them to or not. Susie listened in awed silence as Harry described exactly what he had seen and felt in each six visions, oblivious to the fact that as she did not know all the background it would not all be quite as clear to her as it was to him.

However, Susie's lack of external knowledge turned out to be more of a help than a hindrance as it allowed her to speak objectively once he had finished.

"Are - are you sure she was dead?" she asked him timidly.

Harry flinched and nodded mutely, clamping his jaw shut and gritting his teeth in an attempt to hold back the wail of despair that he could feel fighting to get out of him.

"But it - it was only one moment in time, taken out of context. Had you seen a different moment, maybe one either side of the one you saw it could have been entirely different," Susie reasoned softly.

"She was definitely dead," Harry whispered hoarsely.

Susie went very quiet and seemed to cast about for something reassuring to say, "It may have just been a nightmare or something - we don't know for sure they were premonitions..."

"I've seen the images before, though briefly and without the extra sense," Harry told her in a quiet voice as he began shaking uncontrollably again.

"What? When?" Susie asked in surprise.

"Just after I pressed the moon-button," Harry replied dully.

"Really? Why didn't you tell us befo... Oh! Sorry, ignore that. Stupid question," Susie muttered abashed as she had temporarily forgotten that Harry had been unable to talk for a while after the incident with the box. Then she added, "But even so, it still doesn't mean they were visions of the future."

"Then I guess we'll just have to wait and see..." Harry said grimly.

For a long time the two of them sat in an awkward silence, broken at length by Susie saying softly, "I really am sorry, Harry."

Harry looked up and tried to give her a reassuring smile but couldn't as he felt he was the one in need of reassurance right now, so he simply said, "None of this was your fault."

"All the same, I still feel responsible."

Harry did not respond to her last statement, for when he had looked up he had caught sight of a black cat perched on one of the windowsills, sunning itself in the weak October rays. Harry stared suspiciously at the cat - he was sure it was the same one that had nipped his ankle that morning, before doing a disappearing act in one of the disused classrooms.

Susie saw where Harry was looking and followed his line of sight until she too noticed the cat. "Aww! What a cute cat! I wonder where he came from - he wasn't there a minute ago was he?"

Harry shook his head, still watching the cat astutely. The cat seemed to sense that they were talking about it for it had opened one of its yellow-green eyes and raised its head to look at them.

"Do you think maybe he belongs to Madam Pomfrey or something for him to be in here?" Susie asked him curiously but Harry did not here her. He was too preoccupied with his own doubtful suspicions regarding the cat.

The cat yawned and stretched before leaping gracefully off the window ledge and trotting over to them. It sat down a couple of feet from Harry where it stared unblinkingly at him for a little while. Then it spoke, "Aren't you going to answer your friend?"

Harry's mouth fell open in astonishment and he said faintly, "What did you say?"

"I asked you if you thought the cat perhaps belongs to Madam Pomfrey." Susie replied, thinking he had been addressing her.

"No - I was talking to the cat," Harry told her distractedly, oblivious to how ridiculous he sounded.

"You were talking to the cat?" Susie repeated sceptically. "Harry, are you sure you're feeling alright?"

"Only you can understand me," The cat said lazily as it began to wash its paws in an unconcerned manner.

Harry felt his face redden as he noticed the glance Susie was shooting at him. It was a glance that told Harry she was questioning his sanity.

Realising what he was about to say would sound foolish, Harry's face further reddened as he muttered, "The cat said only I can understand him."

"The cat said that? Harry, that cat hasn't uttered even the most plaintive mew the whole time it's been here - how can it have said anything?" Susie asked him, looking bewildered.

"You haven't heard anything?" Harry asked, brow furrowed thoughtfully.

Susie shook her head slowly then stood up, "I'm going to get Madam Pomfrey - that pendant must have addled your brains!"

"No! Wait! I'm fine - really," Harry insisted as she surveyed him sceptically. "I assure you that the cat spoke to me - I didn't just dream it."

"Of course I spoke!" The cat said haughtily, "I flatter myself that I amount to more than the ramblings of a wet-behind-the-ears kitten."

"A what? Excuse me?" Harry cried indignantly.

"You heard," the cat replied coolly.

"Yes - I heard but she didn't," Harry hissed crossly, jabbing a thumb in Susie's direction unaware that she was shuffling away from him nervously. "And what do you mean 'kitten'? I bet I'm older than you!"

Before the cat could make a retort, Susie clapped a hand to her forehead and giggled as she exclaimed, "Of course!"

Harry blinked blankly. "Of course what?"

"I've just realised why you can understand the cat but I can't," Susie told him, laughing at the obviousness of it.

"Well?" Harry prompted her irritably.

"Isn't it obvious? The cat-pendant of course!"

Harry's eyes widened as he put a hand up to touch the stone pendant absent-mindedly.

"At last - a kit with intelligence - there's hope for mankind after all," the cat said nonchalantly.

Harry frowned at the cat, "You're a right little ray of sunshine, aren't you?"

"I aim to please," the cat retorted with what was unmistakable as a mock-bow.

"So is that right then - I can understand you because of this talisman?" Harry asked the cat while Susie peered at him quizzically.

"Yes, that is correct."

Susie looked at Harry expectantly, "Well? What did it say?"

"Kindly tell your friend that the 'it' is actually a 'he'," the cat told Harry coldly as it turned its insolent leer upon Susie instead.

Harry raised an eyebrow at the cat, then turned to Susie, "Yes, he said you were right and - er - he would also prefer it if you called him a 'he' rather than an 'it'."

"Does he have a name?" Susie asked curiously, suppressing a smile.

"Oh - that's a point - what do we call you?"

"Marmite," replied the cat shortly.

Harry smirked as he told Susie what the cat had said.

"So," said Marmite, "enough of the niceties... Now that you can understand me I'd better tell you why I'm here."

However, the cat was unable to say any more as the door to the hospital wing burst open, and Ron and Hermione came striding through it. The relief on their faces was evident as they spotted Susie was up and about, but this relief was short lived as they caught sight of Harry.

Both he and Susie had turned around when the ward door opened but the sight of Hermione passing through it had a dramatic effect on Harry. He leapt to his feet as though he'd just been prodded in the back with a white-hot poker. The colour drained from his face as he watched her cross over to him in alarm.

"Harry, what is it? You look as though you've seen a ghost!" she said to him in quiet concern and took his hands in hers. The touch of her warm skin next to his was too much for Harry to bear having just seen an image of her dead only minutes before. He stumbled forwards and buried his face in her neck, clinging to her desperately, not ever wanting to let her go. He was afraid that if he did she would slip out of his reach forever.

Somewhat surprised, Hermione put her arms around him and held him close sensing his desperation but not knowing what caused it.

"What's happened?" Harry heard Ron ask Susie in an anxious undertone. If Susie made a reply then it was in too quiet a voice for Harry to hear what she said.

Harry had felt hollow ever since he had seen that fifth image, as though his emotions had somehow been muffled and deadened. Now a sadness, so acute that it made his head swim and his knees weak, filled every one of his fibres as he held Hermione close. He was painfully reminded of all he knew he was to lose.

Harry did not cry - he felt quite capable of doing so, but somehow it seemed wrong for him to grief when he still had her, so he slowly stepped out of her arms to look into her eyes.

She was gazing deeply, penetratingly into his eyes and Harry could see that perplexity was the paramount of her emotions. Then he heard her gasp softly as her gaze dropped to his neck. She reached out a tentative hand to touch the abrasions encircling his throat.

"What did this?" she asked him in wonderment.

Harry gave her a small smile and indicated Susie, "That little wild cat there."

As Harry looked at Susie he was surprised to see she was once more in tears, leaning her hand on Ron's shoulder while he looked tense and worried. However, before Harry could dwell any more on this a small voice floated up from somewhere around his ankles. "Er - wild cat? I hope you weren't using that term to insult one of your kind."

Harry peered down and saw a pair of yellow-green eyes glaring up at him. He was also quick to note that Marmite had his fangs barred to show his displeasure.

"Er - I didn't mean to offend you - I only said that to make a comparison."

Marmite merely blinked, clearly not appeased.

"Harry? What was that all about?" Ron asked, unable to hide his confusion.

Susie sat up and jerked her head in Marmite's direction. "Harry can talk to the cat."

"Harry can talk to the cat?" Ron repeated slowly as though sure he must have misheard. "Since when has Harry been able to talk to cats? No wait - hold on a minute - Harry can talk again?"

Susie laughed despite herself at Ron's apparent bewilderment and Hermione observed, "Well, it seems as though a lot has happened in the past hour - any chance of someone filling us in? Oh - and I hope you're feeling better now Susie."

Just as Susie was telling Hermione that she was feeling much better now, Harry heard the same small voice speak from the floor. "I don't have all day to be hanging around waiting for your attention, you know. If you don't want to hear what I've got to say then fine, just say so that I can stop wasting my time."

"No wait - don't go! I didn't mean to ignore you, it's just that today has been so chaotic. What have you got to tell me?" Harry replied in a pacifying tone as he knelt down opposite the cat. Seeing Ron was about to speak again, Harry held up a hand to indicate for him to hold his tongue.

Marmite sat down on his haunches again and surveyed Harry intently, his expression impassive. "If you think today was chaotic then you just wait until you find out what else you've got in store for you... Today will seem tame by comparison."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked warily, conscious to the fact that Ron, Hermione and Susie were all listening in apparent confusion to what appeared to them to be a one-sided conversation.

"Exactly what I say," Marmite replied evasively. "Let's just cut to the chase, shall we? I came hear primarily to put a proposition to you. Will you hear it?"

Harry nodded reluctantly. Suddenly it seemed the whole animal kingdom was all for throwing unexpected propositions at him. Harry had not cared much for the last proposition made to him and doubted very much if he would like this one any better, but as he couldn't see the harm in just hearing it there seemed no point in refusing.

"The next time we meet I will be in danger of my life. Now, you can choose to either save me or leave me, whichever best suits you. But know this - if you save me I will be your familiar."

"My familiar?" Harry echoed suspiciously. "Are you not a true cat then?"

"Oh, I see you have been successfully brainwashed by those silly fairy tales too... Well, yes I am a true cat - not an imp in cat's form - and as your familiar I would be your guide," the cat told him coolly, visibly affronted by Harry's words.

"What makes you think I need a guide?"

"What makes you think you don't?" the cat replied evenly.

Harry had no reply to that so he changed topic slightly by asking, "This pendant - how does it work? I mean, why does it allow me to understand you?"

Marmite flicked his tail impatiently. "Now is not the time for the hows or whys. Just be content that you can understand me."

Harry scowled crossly at the cat. "Fine, if you won't tell me that will you at least tell me how I can take this thing off?"

"You would do better to keep it on," was all the response Harry was to receive.

"Why?" Harry asked, exasperated that the cat didn't seem to be about to explain anything in simple terms.

"As I said before, now is not the time for hows or whys."

As he seemed to be getting nowhere further on the topic of the pendant, Harry decided the time was ripe for a subject switch.

"How do you know you'll be in danger when we next meet?"

"I was once the familiar to a Prophet and she taught me a thing or two about predicting the future," Marmite replied, now scratching an itch under his chin.

Harry peered at Marmite dubiously, "You can predict the future?"

"To some extent, yes," Marmite told Harry whilst surveying him astutely. "You don't believe me, do you?"

"I didn't say that," Harry replied not wanting to commit himself.

"No, not in so many words you didn't, but your tone made it obvious. Well, suit yourself, it's your privilege to believe or disbelieve me as you will but I can predict the future. Why do you think I came to the castle this very morning? Because I knew today would be the day you found your voice."

"I already had my voice when I first met you," said Harry, raising an eyebrow.

"That's what you think - but you weren't able to talk to me then, were you? The thing you have to remember about fortune telling is that our actions are always so complicated that a vision is never quite as clear as it first appears. As your familiar I would be able to show you how to see bits of your future."

"I think I've seen quite enough previews of my future already, thanks all the same," Harry said as he gave an involuntary shudder.

Marmite stared up into Harry's eyes for a long time before getting to his feet and bounding up onto the window ledge whose window was open. "As you please - fair fortune be yours until next we meet."

Then, without premeditation, the cat sprang out of the window. Harry's jaw dropped in horror and he hurried over to the window and stuck his head out of it. However, there was no sign of the little black cat at all.

When Harry brought his head back into the ward and turned around he was met by three pairs of questioning eyes. He crossed back over to where Ron, Hermione and Susie were sat - or in Hermione's case stood - waiting expectantly for an explanation.

"Fat lot of good talking to that cryptic cat was! He didn't tell me anything straight-forwardly," Harry burst out in frustration as he sank onto the bed across from Susie and Ron.

Hermione came over and sat beside him, once more slipping a hand into his. "What exactly did he say?"

So Harry told them the half of the conversation with Marmite they had been unable to hear, then added. "He also said that the reason why only I could understand him was because of this pendant - but he didn't tell me why this pendant allows me to hear him, nor did he say anything else of much consequence, for that matter..."

They all sat in contemplative silence for a brief time before Ron - who had been staring in awe at Harry's neck - nudged Susie and said, "Did you really do that to Harry?"

Harry looked up just as Susie nodded miserably and was in time to see she was on the verge of tears again.

"Hey - what you crying for?" Ron asked her softly, apparently worried about her.

"I'm not crying - and I'm fine," Susie tried to smile as she spoke and dried her eyes, but Harry caught her shoot the merest half glance at Hermione and had enough sense to realise she too was thinking about his premonition...

Harry shrugged off the dark thoughts meditating about the premonition inspired, as he became aware that Ron was speaking again.

"So are you guys going to tell us what we've missed then? Hey - I've just had a thought. Harry, you didn't at any point have difficulty breathing did you?"

Harry and Susie exchanged a surprised glance before Harry turned to Ron, "Yeah, I did - when I put this thing on." He indicated the amulet that hung closely around his throat. "What made you ask?"

To Harry's further surprise Ron laughed as Hermione became discernibly pink. "Well, about half way through History of Magic, Hermione and I were a bit bored so we thought we'd make things a little more interesting."

"Oh yeah?" Harry replied curiously, raising his eyebrows at Hermione who was looking somewhat disgruntled. "What did you do?"

" I challenged her to a Bertie Botts contest," Ron told Harry, smirking slyly at Hermione.

"Challenged her to a what?" Susie asked keenly, for she had not known Ron or Hermione long enough to know about how competitive they were about every - even something as minor as eating sweets.

Harry rolled his eyes jokingly at Ron, then turned to explain to Susie what a 'Bertie Botts contest' involved. "Basically, since last Christmas Ron and Hermione have had this obsession with eating Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans. The contest Ron mentioned involves them selecting a bean for one another and then they have to eat it slowly without making any facial expressions - mind you, Hermione always cheats and swallows her bean without chewing it -"

"I do not!" Hermione protested indignantly.

"So anyway, this contest carries on until someone pulls a face. I'm sure you can see that the way to win is to select a particularly disgusting bean for your opponent... I think the funniest occasion had to be when Ron thought he'd chosen an odious one for Hermione but it turned out to be honey. Mind you, he still won - Hermione laughed because he'd been so sure it was going to be horrible -"

"Yeah, I knew it was a nice one - I just pretended it wasn't to trick her and it worked!" Ron interrupted defensively.

"Once you get to know these two a bit better," Harry continued to tell Susie, ignoring Ron's interruption and the scowl Hermione was still fixing him with, "you'll soon realise that they can never refuse a challenge and they take the contest dead seriously."

"The only reason why you're so scornful of it is because you were no good yourself," Hermione told him bluntly. "And haven't you forgotten to mention the minor fact that it was you who came up with the concept for the contest in the first place?"

He beamed at her, "True; so anyway, judging by Ron's smirk, I'd say you lost, am I right?"

"To put it mildly! She choked on a mustard-flavoured one and went into this coughing fit. Professor Binns sent her out to get a glass of water because she was disrupting his lesson!" Ron told Harry and Susie, a definite note of glee detectable in his voice. Then he became a bit more sober as he added, "But when we were outside the classroom she couldn't breathe - so is this another one of those weird shared-pain things to do with the spell?"

"Maybe... You said this was just after half way through the lesson, yes? Well, it was about forty minutes after you two left that I put the pendant on..." said Harry. He then went on to tell Ron and Hermione about what had happened when he'd put it on - how it had almost strangled him, then his visions - or at least five of the six he had seen. Instinct told him not to trouble them with what he'd seen in the fifth one - there was no point in it hanging over their heads too.

Having told Ron and Hermione what they'd missed, Harry paused then decided he ought to tell Susie about the spell and one or two of the other occurrences of the past week.

After Harry had finished, Susie sat staring at him raptly, "And I suppose you're going to tell me that this is just an average week for you guys!"

"Thankfully no. Though we've had more than out fair share of mystery and adventure over the years, none of them has been quite as action-packed as this one has in only the first two months of term," Harry replied quietly.

The atmosphere had once more become tense and serious. For a long time no one spoke, they were all trying to get their heads around everything that had happened. Talking about his visions made Harry feel sick with dread. As if seeing an image of Hermione dead hadn't been bad enough, he also had the extra trauma of worrying about Lupin for the first scene had said all too clearly that at some point Voldemort was going to catch up with him again...

Then as well as that there was the fearfulness in waiting for the implied confrontation that he himself would have with the Dark Lord. Harry was almost certain that the two standing figures within the tornado had been he and Voldemort. He wondered just how long his luck would last - surely there would come a time when he would be forced to bow to the inevitable rather than side-step the death that Voldemort promised him. In every one of his meetings with Voldemort so far, Harry had come close to death - would there perhaps come a time when the result would actually be death?

Then there had been the image of Camellia holding him back. Harry knew who she kept him back from yet at the same time didn't know. He thought it felt the same as it does when you know what you are trying to say but the word is just on the tip of your tongue so you can't quite remember it. But all the same, he longed for the stolen meeting and dreaded it too. He appreciated that the meeting would be a stolen one because if it were allowed then there would have been no need for Camellia to restrain him and drag him back. Somehow Harry knew that the meeting was going to be the last chance for a goodbye he would not want to make.

Lastly, there was the image of the dead butterfly to be taken into account. It was not that Harry found this image either frightening or repulsive, but that he did not understand what the butterfly had to do with anything. He had perception enough to realise it must be the same butterfly as the one mentioned in Professor Trelawney's prediction, but what he couldn't get his head around was, what was its significance?

"There are way too many questions buzzing around my head, but what I most want to know is what exactly is this box-thing and what else does it do?" Hermione said at length, speaking quietly to no one in particular.

"Or more specifically," put in Susie, "How did the box take Harry's voice and transfer it into the amulet?"

While they were all thinking this over, Ron was staring at Susie strangely. When she finally noticed, she smiled sweetly and said, "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Malfoy. What did you do to Malfoy?"

Harry and Hermione looked up eagerly as Susie replied, "I took his anger and his spite."

"How?" Hermione inquired, mildly puzzled.

"Have you ever heard of 'Hollow Breath'?"

They all shook their heads mutely. Susie gave a small resigned sigh, "Well, I guess I'd better tell you what it is then.

"I don't know everything about it, but to put it in simple terms it is an ability that can't be taught; if a person does not have it at birth then they won't ever have it. However, the only way you find out if you possess it or not is by performing it, so many people are capable of it but never know.

"It's a bit difficult to define exactly what it is because it's not something that can be seen. If you watch someone perform it - as you did when I performed it on Malfoy - then you can't see what it is they do but you can see that they have done something. But basically, the best definition of 'Hollow Breath' I can give you is that it is the capability of drawing out another person's emotions starting with they're most prominent ones. However, 'Hollow Breath' requires for the person who executes it to adopt a specific posture. They must have the right fist clenched whilst the left hand is placed with the palm flat upon the - err - victim's (for want of a better word) chest, directly across the heart. The two people must also have direct eye contact.

"Now this next bit is the part I'm not too good at describing but I'll have a go so forgive me if this comes out wrong. Well, the performing person then draws breath, but it isn't a breath of air. It's not a breath of the other person's emotions either because they pass through the left palm - hence the burns - I suppose it is simply a hollow breath. Now, the transfer of feelings can only be made if the person taking them truly wants it to. I could stand before any of you now in the accepted stance but if I don't want the emotions then the transfer won't be made - 'Hollow Breath' is entirely within my control.

"As I said before, it is the prominent emotions that are drawn out first - in Malfoy's case it was his anger and spite - and then the other emotions will follow until I break the connection."

"Once you've taken their emotions, will they get them back?" Ron asked her as she paused for breath.

"Yes, but they can only get them back once someone else has done something that would trigger an emotion; the person could not think of something to provoke the feelings," seeing that Ron was looking a bit blank, Susie rephrased what she'd said slightly. "Take Malfoy as an example, he's wandering around unable to feel anger towards anyone until someone does something to infuriate him; he cannot be angry about what angered him before until someone else does something to trigger the emotion. He is unable to think about anything that may cause him to be cross."

"Ah - ok. I see now. So, do you know what Malfoy was in such a vindictive mood for?" Ron replied curiously.

Harry was slightly surprised that Susie abruptly became very uncomfortable, but this surprise did not linger long when Susie glanced in his direction as she responded, "Well - yes. But please don't ask me to tell you what it was about."

"Why not?" Ron asked somewhat baffled.

"Well, I know this is only Malfoy, but I know how I would feel if someone was to take my feelings and distribute them around without asking me..."

Harry peered at Susie cautiously, "Was it something to do with me?"

Susie nodded, "Partly - look I know he's a prized prat most of the time -"

"All of the time you mean," muttered Ron under his breath.

"- but he's human too and has his fears and insecurities. He's hurting inside and he blamed it on you," Susie finished, looking directly at Harry for a moment before dropping her gaze.

"Me? Why?" Harry asked, perplexed, then when he was struck by a sudden thought he added, "Hang on - is this anything to do with that Daily Prophet article and his father?"

Susie nodded again, looking even more uncomfortable. "But if I were you I wouldn't believe everything I read in that Daily Prophet article."

"What do you mean?" said three confused voices at once.

"The incident - with all the muggle torturing - it was all a set-up; Lucius Malfoy isn't You-Know-Who's right hand man," Susie told them quietly. "Please don't ask me anymore though - I've already said more than I should have done."

Harry, Ron and Hermione did not ask Susie anymore about Malfoy and the Daily Prophet article. A pause followed Susie's words, which was finally disturbed by Hermione. "So do you feel what the other person feels when you withdraw each emotion?"

"Yes. However, the owner of the sentiment feels it more acutely before they release it." Susie replied softly, a slightly sad, far-away look spread across her face as she spoke.

"Susie - I've just had a thought. When you fainted was that because of lack of air? I mean, if it really is a hollow breath then wouldn't that mean you get starved of oxygen?" Hermione asked her quietly, seeming to be both mildly concerned and confused.

"Yes... Yes, that's right," Susie told her, snapping back to the present.

Harry, Ron and Hermione stared at her in amazement. "You know the danger of that, yet you're still prepared to perform it? Even on someone as undeserving as Malfoy?"

Susie didn't reply. She simply peered at the floor as though fascinated by it while Harry, Ron and Hermione swapped identical expressions of undisguised amazement.

"But couldn't this 'Hollow Breath' kill you?" Ron asked her in a voice only just discernible as being above a whisper.

"Yes - if I were to keep the contact for too long it would kill me."

There didn't appear to be much to say in response so Ron made a stab at changing the subject slightly by asking pleasantly, "When did you first find out you could do this 'Hollow Breath' thing?"

Unexpectedly, Susie jumped to her feet and crossed slowly over to the open window. She leant against its frame and gazed out of it for a long time in silence.

Harry, Ron and Hermione waited quietly for her to speak. At one point Ron opened his mouth uncertainly to speak but Hermione put a finger to her lips, at the same time giving him a look that said plainly, "Be patient". Harry then realised that Susie was going to tell them whatever it was, but would do so in her own time.

And sure enough, shortly after he'd appreciated this Susie turned around and strode back over to them, however, she did not retake her seat. The far-away look had returned and her eyes also seemed slightly dimmed and glazed. Before anyone could ask her if she was ok, she began to speak.

"The first time I perform 'Hollow Breath' was when I was seven and it was on Nain, my foster mother."

"You're fostered?" Ron interrupted, surprised.

Susie inclined her head and continued, "My parents died before I was even a year old so, needless to say, I have no memories of them. I was taken to an orphanage for a few months, then I went to live with John and Nain Saxon down in Portsmouth and - besides staying at Hogwarts - I've lived there ever since -"

"Why didn't they adopt you?" inquired Ron cutting across her a second time and appearing nonplussed when Hermione shot him a reproving glance for being insensitive.

"I don't really know. I think they wanted to adopt me but couldn't - I'm not sure why... Well anyway, John was a Captain in the Navy - he was a Muggle; Nain's a witch - and so we lived in a little house, overlooking the harbour where his ship was moored. He used to go all over the world and bring us back presents and gifts from overseas - I wanted so much to go with him, but he told me it wasn't allowed."

Susie paused and laughed a soft, empty laugh. The expression on her face said clearly that she was getting swept up in her recollections of the past.

"I was so disappointed when he told me he was to sail to South Africa; I'd always dreamed of going there to see the lions and I remember crying for about a week because he wouldn't let me go too... He promised me that one day, when he didn't have to carry out Navy work anymore, he would get his own yacht and we'd travel the globe together... But he never came back from that voyage to Africa.

"Nain received a telegram - that's something a bit like a letter -" Susie added as she noticed Ron looking blank, "to say that his ship had sunk and he was missing; presumed dead. I was down at the docks when she came to tell me. When Nain found me I knew before she told me, I could tell by her eyes...

"For a long time we simply stared out to sea together - I think a part of me still believed his ship was just beyond the horizon and that we'd see it at any minute... Then Nain told me gently that it was time to go, but I couldn't leave, I couldn't just let go. I told her he was going to come back to us - he had to come back to us. He'd promised we'd sail the world together and he never broke his promises, so he had to come back..."

Silent tears poured down Susie's cheeks, but she didn't seem to notice. It was apparent to Harry that she was back there, on those same docks, staring out to sea. Waiting for the only father figure she'd ever known to return.

"Then Nain got angry with me - she was hurting so deeply and the last thing she needed was a defiant brat who was in denial. She spoke harshly to me about John. I can't remember all the things she said, but one thing that stood out in my memory particularly was she said he had loved the ocean and his ships more than he'd loved us... I longed for her to stop saying what she did and I clenched my fists, shouting at her that it wasn't true.

"I remember reaching out a hand -" as she said this Harry watched Susie reach out a hand all the while staring at the wall with an intent concentration. "I meant to put it over her mouth to prevent her from speaking, but being only seven I couldn't reach. My hand only came up to her chest so I rested it there, over her heart. Then she became silent and gazed into my eyes and I could see her anguish and torment shining in them. I wanted so much to take her hurt and pain away and the moment I thought it - I began to feel her grief, mind you it was only some of her grief that I took for there was so much of it, it almost overwhelmed me. That was the first time I withdrew emotions using 'Hollow Breath' and that's when Nain knew I was the daughter of a witch. I passed out right there on the jetty and I don't recall much else about that time or for quite a long time afterwards either - the only other thing I do recollect is that when I first woke up Nain hugged me close and called me her little heart thief..."

Susie's voice, which had been so calm and steady throughout trembled as she uttered the last words. For a moment longer she remained exactly as she was, staring with misty eyes at the wall with her right fist clenched and her left arm stretched out ahead of her. Then Ron stood up, hesitantly putting his arms around her and just holding her in silence. Hermione sniffed quietly and rested her head on Harry's shoulder. Even Harry felt a little affected by what she had said as he felt a tingling in his throat. A moment later, Harry realised that the tingling was not actually in his throat but around it and Hermione's sitting up to massage her throat a minute later only helped to confirm that Yueliang Du was healing his abrasions.

Susie pulled back from Ron and dried her eyes. Ron peered at her, concerned. "Are you alright?"

She nodded then smiled weakly. "I'm sorry about that - I guess you could say I was a bit of a Daddy's girl. Well, I know he wasn't my real Dad but -"

"It's ok - you don't need to explain anything to us," Hermione told her kindly.

Susie managed to give Hermione a warm smile then Harry saw her eyes widen as she turned to look at him. "Your neck! It's healed! That spell-thing you were telling me about is strange isn't it? Shall we go and ask Madam Pomfrey if we can leave now?"

Harry nodded fervently - the hospital wing was not his favourite place. He then had a sudden thought. Usually Madam Pomfrey would check on the patients in her care at regular intervals but she still had not emerged from her study since going in there after Professor Sprout had departed, and that was more than an hour and a half ago now.

Still mulling this over, Harry stood up and trailed in the wake of his peers as they ambled over to Madam Pomfrey's office. The door was closed so Hermione rapped sharply on the it three times. There was no response. Hermione knocked another three times, but louder this time. Still nothing.

"Is she in there, do you reckon?" Ron asked, shrugging as he spoke.

"She went in there ages ago but I haven't seen her come out again and Harry and I have been in here the whole time so we would have seen her leave if she had..." Susie told him looking quite mystified.

"Maybe she's asleep," Ron suggested doubtfully.

Once more Hermione pounded loudly on the door. There was still no answer and it struck Harry as dubious that Madam Pomfrey - or anyone else for that matter - could have slept through the hammering Hermione had just given the door.

By now the four of them were getting edgy. Hesitantly, Hermione reached out a hand and tried the handle - it turned readily and the door swung slowly ajar.

Hermione poked her head around the door and let out a shrill shriek at the sight that befell her eyes. She staggered backwards, careering into Ron who had been stood behind her. With mounting apprehension, Harry stepped up to the door and peered around it.

He gasped at what he saw and only just managed to stifle his yell of shock. With a jolt he felt as though a glassful of ice cubes had gone cascading down into his stomach.

"Ron - go get Dumbledore! Quickly!" Harry cried hoarsely.

Ron stared at Harry in alarm. "What is it? What's happened?"

Harry grimly nudged the door with the toe of his trainers. Ron let out a vehement exclamation as it swung open to its full extent, revealing a harrowing scene.

Harry's eyes swept over Madam Pomfrey's office in blatant disgusted wonderment. The best thing he could think of to describe what he was seeing was that a freak hurricane had torn through the office. Every cupboard door had been flung open - some were even dangling precariously off their hinges - and each cupboard had been striped bear of its contents, which lay strewn over the work surfaces. There was broken glass everywhere as it seemed to Harry that every single bottle, phial and beaker had been smashed, while colourful concoctions of potions and remedies that had been splashed or spilled inter-mingled on the flagstone floor.

Notes and papers littered the floor; their ink had run in the places where the potion splatters had struck. To put it simply, the office was in a bad way. However, whatever state the room was in, it was nothing like as bad as that of Madam Pomfrey.

She was bound tightly to a spindly wooden chair and was apparently unconscious for her head was slumped forward with her chin resting upon her chest. There were several evenly spaced, deep gouges torn out of her left shoulder and blood had already accumulated in a sinister red puddle at the foot of her chair.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Susie all stared in speechless disbelief each wondering the precise same thing. How could this have happened without any of them hearing even the faintest sound?

It was Harry that found his voice first and turned to Ron - "Well, what are you waiting for? Go find Dumbledore!"

"Oh - yeah - right," Ron mumbled coming to his senses and backing away. He then turned and sprinted the length of the hospital wing and out of sight.

Harry then took a deep, calming breath as he stepped into the office with the intention of releasing Madam Pomfrey from the cords that bound her to the chair. As he crossed through the chaotic scene he felt the shards of glass breaking underfoot, but he failed to notice that the crunching sound one would expect to hear was absent.

Susie and Hermione reluctantly followed him and aided him in his attempt to untie her. They all fumbled with the tight knots but they were too small for anyone to prise undone. Realising that it was hopeless to try and untie them by hand, Harry pulled out the pocket knife Sirius had bestowed upon him and began hacking away carefully, ensuring that it was only the ropes that felt the steel edge of the blade.

After all the cords had fallen harmlessly to the floor, Harry gently lifted the nurse from the chair and carried her without too much difficulty into the ward itself. He then set her down on one of the beds just as Dumbledore came striding into the wing, closely followed by Ron.

The look on Dumbledore's usually kindly face was formidable; he appeared to be radiating an indefinable sense of power with such intensity that it was almost palpable. Catching sight of Madam Pomfrey's form his features arranged themselves into a picture of fury.

"What happened?" said Dumbledore in a dangerously quiet voice, his eyes on the nurse.

"We don't know," Harry began uncertainly. "We were in here to keep Susie company, then we went to ask Madam Pomfrey if she was well enough to leave and we just found her strapped to a chair amidst all that."

Harry pointed in the direction of the ransacked room. Dumbledore walked briskly over to the doorway and peered inside but did not appear in the least bit shocked by the state he found the study in. Harry thought it looked as though he'd expected it to be like that then he realised why - Ron was bound to have told him.

Dumbledore returned to the bedside and examined the profound cuts on her shoulder. Harry too peered at them and now he was looking at them properly he noticed that they had the appearance of wounds one would expect to be predicted by the talons of a large bird.

This baffled Harry. Why should a bird have reason to attack her? However, he did not have long to ponder on this for Dumbledore began to speak again.

"And did none of you hear anything? I presume you were in the ward when this took place," Dumbledore asked them, looking searchingly from one to another.

"Yes - we were here; or at least Harry and Susie were. When Ron and I arrived Madam Pomfrey had already gone into her office but we didn't hear even the slightest sound the whole time we were here," Hermione answered in a trembling voice. Harry looked up at her and saw that she was very pale and was shaking a little. It was apparent that she had still not fully recovered from the shock of the scene she had discovered. He crossed silently over to her and put a comforting arm about her shoulders.

Although he had at first been dismayed upon opening the door, Harry had now got over it as such scenes were no stranger to him. Hermione, and even Ron, on the other hand had not always been present when he had witnessed or be subject to grisly and terrifying situations so were understandably not as familiar to them as he was.

Dumbledore meanwhile had disappeared into the office. He returned to view morbidly carrying a bottle that had mercifully escaped being smashed. He also brought strips of linen, a couple of clean bandages and a small, cracked jar containing a pink ointment.

Silently, Dumbledore set to work at cleaning up the nurse's wounds then applying the contents of the bottle and the jar before dressing the cuts. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Susie simply observed what he did without saying a word. Harry for his part was a little wary of Dumbledore for fear that Dumbledore may vent some of his wrath on him should he draw attention to himself by speaking. Dumbledore, who was usually faintly amused by something or other, had now become unapproachable because he was so furious - he was one of those people who rarely got truly angry, but when they did are not a person one would wish to cross.

Once Dumbledore had completed his task of healing Madam Pomfrey, Harry watched him extract his wand from somewhere within his robes, then point it at her and say quietly but clearly, "Enervate."

Madam Pomfrey's eyes opened. She looked dazed then when she spotted Dumbledore standing over her, made an attempt to sit up. Dumbledore gently laid a hand on her uninjured shoulder and bid her to lie still.

"Stay there, Poppy," he said quietly, his expression softening. "Can you tell us any of what happened to you?"

Madam Pomfrey sank weakly back onto the bed and adopted an expression that stated she was clearly straining to remember all that had occurred.

"I had returned to my office having finished seeing to Miss Bones, in order to catch up on some of my neglected paper work when a tawny owl appeared outside the window, tapping to come in. As it had a letter clamped in its beak I saw no reason not to let it in so I opened the window. It swooped in and, dropped the letter - well, it was more of a note really - onto my desk and swooped out again.

"It was just after I'd unfolded the note that I heard a man's voice say something softly behind me - that's all I can remember. But -" Madam Pomfrey stopped without finishing her last sentence and gazed at Dumbledore in a peculiar way. Harry thought it was perhaps a resigned look she gave him, but he couldn't be sure.

"But what?" Dumbledore prompted her gently.

Madam Pomfrey fumbled in her robe pocket, evidently searching for something. Once she had located what she sought she fished out a crumpled piece of paper and handed it to Dumbledore.

Looking over Dumbledore's shoulder, Harry read the words that were written in the red ink with a jolt.

The Order of the Phoenix has returned.

Harry was astounded. The Order of the Phoenix? Returned? The Order of the Phoenix had been a renegade group who was against the magical community in general but hated Voldemort and his Death Eaters even more. Few people had ever actually seen a member of the Order of the Phoenix but everyone knew how to recognise them by their distinctive livery. Their trademark robes were scarlet and gold with a black silhouette of a phoenix bursting into flames emblazoned across the chest. They also sported black masks what only covered their eyes, nose and cheeks but had slits to see through.

The organisation might be small, but it was certainly effective. It had only twelve members, whom Harry had met back in his fifth year when he had been unfortunate enough to get himself caught up in the middle of a full-scale battle between the Death Eaters and the Order of the Phoenix.

Harry had been stunned at the number of Death Eaters who had slain by the Order of the Phoenix, whilst the members of the Order of the Phoenix had all escaped capture with their lives.

However, they had slipped back into obscurity since that incident and this was the first time in just over a year that Harry had heard them spoken of. They were a bafflement and no mistake; no one could discern precisely what they stood for, which appeared to be to their advantage. And while they had proved themselves to be efficient killers they too had shown some mercy when it had been requested.

What mystified Harry most about the Order of the Phoenix was that they all seemed to have contrasting opinions regarding him. Having been saved from Voldemort by them back in his fifth year, their leader - or the person Harry supposed was their leader - had asked him to join their ranks while one or two of the other members had made attempts to take his life.

And so now they had returned. Or so it would appear if this note were to be believed. But what Harry still had to determine was whether they were an organisation that he should work alongside or against. On the one hand they opposed Voldemort and seemed to be the most efficient group when it came to depleting his ranks, which was always a good thing, but on the other they had portrayed overse animosity to various members of the magical community who had likewise opposed Voldemort.
Indeed, it had been the lethal assassins of the Order of the Phoenix that had murdered the late Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, in cold blood...

Harry was summoned from his reverie by the sound of Dumbledore speaking once more.

"Did any of you touch anything when you went into the office?" Dumbledore asked Harry, Hermione and Susie sharply.

Susie shook her head timidly. "All we did was untie Madam Pomfrey before coming straight back out again."

There was a very short pause, hardly to be called a pause really, that followed Susie's words before Dumbledore spoke again.

"Mr. Weasley, would you be so kind as to fetch Professor McGonagall please? If you were to inform her briefly of the events that have taken place and escort her up to the ward I would be very grateful," said Dumbledore gravely as he himself began sweeping toward the entrance of the wing. Turning to Harry, Hermione and Susie he added, "would you three please remain here with Madam Pomfrey? I have an errand I must see to, but I will not be absent for above half and hour. Poppy, please refrain from getting up - you will need to rest after your ordeal. Rest assured that I will not be gone longer than is absolutely necessary."

And with that he had reached the ward door. He passed through it without a backward glance and strode briskly out of sight. Ron turned to his companions, still looking concerned. "Well, I'll see you in a bit then. I'd best go get McGonagall."

No sooner had he too disappeared from view did Madam Pomfrey made to sit up. Harry spotted her intention and she wasn't quick enough for he gently but firmly placed a hand on her uninjured shoulder, entreating her to stay where she was. "Dumbledore told you to lie still and get some rest - please don't be difficult."

Madam Pomfrey sighed at him exasperatedly but all the same did as she was told and lay back down. After a quiet moment she smiled at Harry wryly and said, "I never thought I'd see the day that I would be being taken care of by one of my own patients - particularly you, Potter."

Harry laughed softly, "Yes, it does seem a bit ironic that I should be the one attending to you when you're injured, doesn't it?"

The three standing people, realising they might have a bit of a wait ahead of them, all drew up chairs on either side of Madam Pomfrey's bedside. They talked in quiet whispers amongst themselves for shortly after Dumbledore's departure the nurse had drifted softly to sleep.

Harry was not in the least bit surprised that she should drift off so readily, despite the obvious discomfort her shoulder was in, for he remembered how groggy he himself had felt not long after the accident with the knife.

The topic Harry, Hermione and Susie were deliberating was why it was someone - that someone presumably being a representative of the Order of the Phoenix - would have reason to attack the Hogwarts matron. Judging by the state the office was in, they speculated that whoever it was appeared to have been searching frantically for something. The questions this supposition inspired were what was it someone was so desperate to get hold of and did they manage to procure it?

At present these were not questions to which they were likely to get any satisfactory answers, so Harry decided he might as well voice another thing that he had been mulling over. "How was it that this could happen without one of us hearing something?"

A silencing charm," Hermione informed him simply.

"But how would that work? Even if whoever it was put charms on both themselves and Madam Pomfrey surely we would still have been able to hear the breaking of glass and slamming of cupboard doors?"

"There are different types of silencing charms," Susie told him before Hermione had a chance to. "There are some that can be placed over an entire room, meaning that no matter what occurred within, not a sound would be perceived. I'm guessing that that was what Madam Pomfrey's attacker did to prevent detection."

"Did you not notice that all was silent when we went in her study to retrieve her? The glass should have crunched and chinked beneath our trainers but it didn't - nor did your pocket knife make any noise as you hacked away at her bonds with it. Susie's right; whoever it was did perform a silencing charm on the room so that no one would hear what was happening from outside," Hermione added with grim quietness.

Harry looked from one girl to the other, slightly awed that they could notice such things at a time such as that one, when logic and clear thinking usually went out of the window. However, he was spared from making a response by the sudden arrival of Ron and Professor McGonagall.

"Professor Dumbledore has still not returned yet then?" Professor McGonagall inquired briskly once she had reached the foot of Madam Pomfrey's bed. "Did he leave any indication as to where he was going?"

They all shook their heads in tense silence. Professor McGonagall tutted and made a slight jerk of her head before pacing over to the entrance to the nurses office. Harry heard her give a sharp gasp as her eyes met the scene of chaos within.

Professor McGonagall hastily averted her eyes and returned to the group who sat huddled around the bed. There didn't seem to be anything for anyone to say. Harry, Hermione and Susie were not keen on resuming their conversation now that Professor McGonagall was present so everyone avoided catching everyone else's gaze and settled themselves to wait for Dumbledore in an awkward silence.

They had no longer than ten minutes to wait before footsteps could be heard out in the adjoining corridor. Seconds later a grave looking Dumbledore appeared, deep in conversation with a comparatively young blonde wizard who Harry did not recognise.

"Ah - Minerva," said Dumbledore as soon as he perceived her presence. "I trust Mr. Weasley informed you of what happened?"

"He told me all he was able to," replied Professor McGonagall crisply, clearly wishing he had been able to tell her more. She then eyed the blonde wizard who stood by Dumbledore's side curiously.

Seeing where she was peering, Dumbledore introduced the stranger to them.

"Everyone, this is Mr. Rushworth - Junior Minister of the Department of Magical Catastrophes. Mr. Rushworth, may I introduce Professor McGonagall?" Dumbledore pointed to Professor McGonagall and Mr. Rushworth nodded to her. Dumbledore then went to point to each person as he spoke their name, "Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter, Miss Bones, Miss Granger, and Madam Pomfrey."

Having greeted them all politely, Mr. Rushworth turned to Dumbledore once more. "Might it be possible for me to inspect the crime scene? Thank you."

Dumbledore showed Mr. Rushworth into Madam Pomfrey's office. They returned very shortly, Mr. Rushworth now whipping out a notebook to jot down his observations.

He then questioned Harry, Ron, Hermione and Susie about what they might have either seen or heard. Soon afterwards, Madam Pomfrey was woken up and upon finding her fit enough for quizzing, Rushworth asked her a few questions about what had happened to her.

"Well, Dumbledore -it certainly fits in with the circumstances of the other attacks. Is there any chance of preserving the scene exactly as it is now? I feel it necessary for our top unspeakable to be brought in. However, he is at present otherwise engaged. Would it be all right for him to pop in on Sunday? I'm sure he'd like to speak to these fine people, as he'll doubtless have a few questions of his own to put to them. Very thorough is our man, Jack Stirling," said Rushworth with a slight smile.

Dumbledore looked mildly surprised as he asked his next question, "Is it quite necessary for it to be Stirling himself?"

Harry watched Dumbledore as he spoke and came to the conclusion that he had been hoping for things to be sorted out promptly in order for things to return to normality quickly.

"Oh yes, quite necessary - if it is a matter regarding the Order of the Phoenix then we must have Stirling doing the investigating," Rushworth told Dumbledore firmly and decisively, running a hand through his straw coloured hair as he spoke.

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "Very well, I'll put a preserving charm on the room directly. Would you care to join me in a drink before you have to depart?"

Rushworth accepted the offer gladly and Dumbledore once more turned to the party clustering by Madam Pomfrey's bed. "Perhaps you four would like to head down to dinner? I will let you know between now and Sunday when your presence is required - thank you for your help."

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Susie all got readily to their feet and left the ward as Dumbledore turned to speak quietly with McGonagall and Rushworth.

It was only once they had put several corridors between them and the hospital wing that any of them acquired any inclination to speak. Ron looked meaningfully at Harry and said, "Well, what do you make of all that then?"

Harry looked back at Ron vacuously; unable to detect the reasoning behind the meaningful look he had given him. "What do I make of all what?"

Before Ron could answer, however, they had turned around a blind corner and Ron had knocked someone small to the floor. The small someone turned out to be Professor Flitwick.

"Do try and watch where you are going, Weasley," Professor Flitwick squeaked irritably as he scrabbled to his feet and brushed off his robes. Catching sight of Susie, his frown evaporated entirely and was instead replaced by a small smile. "Ah, Miss Bones - just the person I was hoping to meet. Might I have a brief talk with you?"

"Err - yes alright. Don't wait for me guys, I'll catch up with you later," Susie said curiously, as she turned and followed Flitwick back down the corridor she had just walked through.

Harry, Ron and Hermione hung back for a moment, unsure of whether or not they ought to wait for her despite what she'd said. However, as they watched her retreating back out of sight they reached a mutual agreement that they may as well head down to dinner and meet up with her again later.

As they walked, Hermione informed Ron of what they had speculated about while he was fetching McGonagall. Harry sauntered along in silence, hardly hearing one word in ten of which they spoke for he was too involved in sifting through his own private thoughts and emotions to leave much room for attending to anything else.

Harry once more occupied his mind with replaying the six images the cat-pendant had shown him. It was not the first time he wondered if they were premonitions and nor was it to be the last time either. He longed to know if what he had seen was what would be or what might be; maybe they had been warnings. Perhaps the visions he had seen would only come true if he did or did not do something.

What worried him most was that in the hospital wing scene they none of them had appeared to have aged noticeably. Was that then a sign the events would take place comparatively soon?

Harry shook himself mentally in an attempt to dispel the unpleasant and cast a sly sideways glance at Hermione. She was chatting fervently with Ron and her eyes were alight with animation. Such animation made a shocking contrast to the eyes he had seen in his vision. Those eyes had been glassy, expressionless, and somehow strangely unreal. Had Harry not seen that pair of lifeless eyes he would never have imagined her eyes could ever be so cold and devoid of emotion.

Harry gave an involuntary shudder. His sudden movement caught her attention and Hermione immediately stopped in mid-sentence to ask him if he was all right.

Harry nodded silently. He didn't quite trust his voice not to tremble should he speak so he remained reflective and grave. Hermione and Ron exchanged a quizzical glance.

"Something troubling you, Harry?" Ron inquired lightly.

Harry shook his head but did not make a verbal response. It appeared to him that Ron and Hermione now knew him well enough by now to know that when he quietly told them that nothing was disturbing his peace, it usually signified that something was. However, they also seemed to know that he would not speak his mind if they persevered in pressing him about it. He would tell them more obligingly in his own time, when he was ready.

This was therefore why he, Ron and Hermione now continued their journey in silence. He was quiet because he had no inclination to speak and they were quiet because they were waiting patiently for the time when he would obtain some. Although he did not turn to look at either of his companions, Harry could feel them scrutinising him every now and then and he was resigned to it.

By this time, the three of them had covered almost all the distance between the hospital wing and the Great Hall, and they were shortly to approach the marble staircase. It was at the top of this staircase that Harry came to a halt.

Although he had no desire to be alone at present - quite the reverse in fact - the thought of entering the noisy hubbub of the Great Hall and trying to pretend that he had seen or sensed or experienced nothing did not appeal to him in the slightest. He was reluctant to descend the staircase, yet he was not sure where he would go if not into the Great Hall.

Seeing him stop short, apparently deep in thought, Ron and Hermione halted too and observed him perceptively as he deliberated.

"You not hungry then?" Ron asked him at length.

Harry did not respond immediately for he was on the brink of deciding what he was most desirous of doing. After a brief hesitation he looked up at Ron and shook his head, I'll see you guys later - I don't feel much like going down to dinner after all."

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked him softly, concern detectable in her quiet voice. Harry nodded but said nothing more.

"Want us to stay with you?" she added astutely.

Harry glanced up and caught her line of sight, shooting her a brief look that said all to clearly that he didn't want to be alone. However, the words he spoke contradicted this. "Nah - I'm alright. I'll see you in a bit."

He then turned on his heel and began walking away. Judging by the silence behind him, Harry could tell that Ron and Hermione were not quite sure whether or not to take him at his word and leave him to his own devices. However, it soon became apparent that they were going down to dinner as he heard the sound of soft foot falls retreating down the staircase.

Harry sighed. He would have appreciated company very much, but his pride had prevented his asking for it. So it was a little despondently that Harry wandered aimlessly along, once more submerged in his own thoughts.

He became so submerged in his own thoughts that he only became aware that someone was following him once they had almost caught up with him. Harry turned and found Hermione only a couple of paces behind him.

"I thought maybe you could use some company after all - you don't mind do you? I mean, I'll go if you'd rather," she said in a pacifying way.

Harry stepped back so they were level with one another and hugged her to him whispering a simple, "Thank you," in her ear.

When they broke apart she gave him a warm smile, or at least an attempt at a warm smile. Harry could see that though she tried to mask her concern on his behalf she was unable to conceal it completely. He wondered if any of what troubled him likewise troubled her, or if they were both worrying about issues that they were unable to communicate with one another.

It was only now that Harry had something he could not, ought not, tell Hermione that he could sympathise with her and feel that perhaps she had valid justifications for why she could not tell him everything after all. He liked the situation still less than he had, but had to accept the secrets now he held one or two of his own.

Hermione put an arm around his waist and snuggled in under his shoulder as he rested his arm about her shoulders. They sauntered along in an apparently aimless manner, neither one speaking though both had much to say. There was a kind of comfort derived from the silence between them and it turned out to be one of those rare occasions when silence speaks more than any words ever could.

After possibly half an hour of contemplative strolling, they once more found themselves at the top of the marble staircase. Harry was struck by a sudden thought and broke the stillness between them.

"Shall we head down to the stables and Hagrid's? Fang and Merula will need feeding so we may as well go now..." he said quietly, staring towards the castle's main entrance doors.

Hermione made no reply but took her silence for ascent and therefore steered her down the steps and across the hall to the great oak doors.

Apparently it had been raining earlier. When Harry and Hermione stepped out into the early evening surrounding the castle they found the dark world sparkling and glistening; the leaves of trees and shrubs dripping with the rain drops of an earlier shower. The moonlight shone pale and cold, bathing the grounds in a silvery glow. Its light was caught in each drop of rain and bead of dew and was refracted, giving the grass the appearance of having been studded with millions of glittering diamonds.

The rain clouds had long since dispersed, leaving the deep blue sky clear and crisp. As the pair of the, made their way across the lawns, they felt the world was somehow fresh and new; it looked to them like a masterpiece of a painting that had only just been finished. It was so short a time after its completion in fact, that the paint was still wet and glistening.

"It's a beautiful night, isn't it?" Hermione murmured to Harry in a soft voice full of awe and wonder.

"You're not wrong," Harry agreed quietly, hugging her close.

They made their way down to Hagrid's hut first. It looked wrong to Harry that it should seem so cold and deserted. He dearly missed their frequent trips down to have tea with Hagrid and catch up on each other's news. Hagrid had only been absent for just short of three weeks, but to Harry it felt much longer. The only other occasions Harry had known for Hagrid to be away were when he had gone on a job with Madam Maxime for Dumbledore during the summer holidays after Harry's fourth year. And also for the brief time he had spent in Azkaban way back during the dark months of Harry's second year. It was unnatural for Hagrid to be away and Harry couldn't help but feel a bad omen lurked around the empty cabin, waiting to be found.

Hermione called to Fang, having just unlocked and opened the door. He came bounding out delightedly, almost bowling Harry over in his eagerness to get out. While Hermione kept an eye on the dog's progress outside, ensuring he didn't scamper off outside of Hagrid's border fence, Harry crossed the threshold and meandered his way to the cupboard containing Fang's food in the twilight.

"Honestly Harry!" Hermione exclaimed a few moments later as she hurried inside, glad to be out of the draft. "Why didn't you light a torch or two? I'll be surprised if you can see anything in this light."

She then muttered a few well-chosen words whilst simultaneously waving her wand, thereby causing the torches to kindle. They cast a warm orange glow around the room that cheered it profoundly, even Harry felt a little less disheartened as he surveyed the now-welcoming room quietly.

Now that he could see what he was doing, Harry found it much easier to locate the somewhat diminished sack, which held Fang's food. He pulled the coarse pouch out and proceeded to pour food into a nearby metal dog bowl. This wasn't made easy by the fact that Fang in his eagerness had shoved his head right into the bowl before Harry had had a chance to even finish tipping food into it.

Tutting with faint annoyance and slight amusement, Harry stowed the bag back in its place in the cupboard. It was as he did so that his hand once more connected with the wad of wizarding photographs had concealed conveniently in the cupboard.

Harry wasn't exactly sure why, but for some reason he had a burning desire to look at the faded photograph of his great-great-grandparents and his great-grandfather. He once more extracted the pictures from their resting place on the shelf and sifted impatiently through them until his eyes found the one they had sought.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked him apprehensively as she crossed over to him and sat down by his side.

"Nothing much - I just wanted another look at this picture, that's all," Harry replied lightly, all too aware that her apprehension sprouted from the fear that he was going to start quizzing her about the book again.

Harry did indeed have the book in mind, but he knew better than to comment on it. He wondered briefly why a copy of this particular photograph would be in Siramad's book - what was its relevance?

However, Harry did not spend long on musing over this. He instead turned to Hermione thoughtfully and inquired, "Any ideas why Hagrid has got all these photos hidden away in one of his cupboards?"

She gave a small shrug of her shoulders, looking vaguely relieved at the same time as reflective. At length she said, "He gave you a book full of wizarding photographs of your parents before, didn't he?"

"Yes - that was back in our first year. Why do you ask?" Harry peered at her questioningly, not having seen where she was leading.

"Well, all these pictures are in some way connected to you; your friends, your family etc., so I was just thinking that maybe he was planning to make you another album - but one with others in it besides just your parents..."

"Yeah, maybe," Harry agreed slowly. "I guess that would explain why he hasn't shown them to us before - he'd want it to be a surprise..."

He trailed off and they each exchanged guilty grins, then Harry slightly reluctantly returned the photographs to their original position and tidies up the cupboard before getting to his feet.

"Do you want to go for a walk before we go to the stables?" Harry said after they had once more extinguished the torches and put everything they had touched back in its place.

Hermione turned to look at him, appearing a bit nervous. "Are you sure that's such a good idea after last time?"

"It's not a full moon tonight so we should be safe. And anyway, I'm sure Fang would appreciate the exercise," Harry replied, nodding in Fang's direction as he spoke.

There was no denying the fact that Fang really could do with a proper chance to stretch his legs. Of late, he had hardly been outside at all whereas when Hagrid was around, Fang would spend perhaps half to most of the day out of the hut, either following Hagrid when he went on his rounds or else lying in the sun in Hagrid's pumpkin patch.

"Oh alright - I guess it isn't as late as before and you're right, Fang ought to get a decent walk - but we'd better be careful," Hermione relented, still apparently nervous.

"Hermione - relax. What could possibly happen? I mean, it's not like we're going into the Forbidden Forest or anything," Harry told her cheerfully as he chivvied a sprightly Fang out through the front door.

"Famous last words, Harry," Hermione muttered grimly. "Famous last words."

Harry, however, did not hear her. He was already out of the hut and beckoning for her to follow him. Hermione cautiously shut the door, tapping the lock with her wand. She smiled to herself as she turned around, for she was just in time to watch a crazy race that was occurring between Harry and Fang. It was obvious that Fang was going to be the victor, but he kept slowing up to let Harry catch up. Hermione amused herself with watching Fang toying with Harry, allowing Harry to think he was in with a chance of beating him before suddenly tearing off again.

After a few minutes of confused chasing and being chased, the two of them, dog and boy both, came hurtling back over to Hermione who was walking leisurely towards them.

When Harry reached her he came skidding to a stop, his trainers glistening with the dusting of dew they had acquired. He also had a big silly grin on his face as he bent forward, clutching his knees in an attempt to rid himself of the stitch beneath his ribs.

"What's got into you, eh?" Hermione inquired laughingly, her face too breaking into a wide smile. It seemed his sudden carefree joy was infectious.

Still beaming broadly Harry straightened up, panting out his reply before he had fully caught his breath. "I dunno - the moonlight - I guess!"

At the reference to moonlight, Harry saw Hermione's eyes widen perceptibly. She was peering at his neck as though suddenly noticing something for the first time.

"What? What is it?" Harry asked as he absent-mindedly lifted a hand to his throat, his fingertips brushing against the cat-pendant as he did so.

"You've got silver lines on your neck now too. I think they correlate to where your scratches from Susie were," Hermione answered him, still staring shrewdly at the stripes of shining silver around his throat.

"I guess it's not all that surprising really, if you think about it," Harry said, sounding dismissive. "I mean, if Yueliang Du healed the scratches then surely it makes sense for there to be silver lines, doesn't it?"

Hermione still looked perplexed about something and it wasn't very long until Harry found out what. "Give me your hand a minute."

Somewhat baffled, Harry obligingly extended both his arms for she had not specified which one it was she wanted to view. Hermione took hold of his right hand and hauled it into the path of moonbeams, turning it palm-side up so she could inspect the pad of his index finger.

Barely discernible was a silver crescent moon in the corresponding spot to where the button had branded him. However, this silver blemish was exceedingly faint and quite unlike the moon scars he had on his neck, one of his hands or his leg.

"Hmmm..." Hermione muttered thoughtfully.

Eyebrows arched, Harry returned "Hmmm what?"

She turned her eyes upward to look at his face and he could see she was deep in thought about something.

"I just don't really understand the logic behind this spell, that's all. I mean, why is it that the scratches can be seen much more brightly than the branded moon yet they were only superficial injuries? And why is it that sometimes we share pain, but other times we don't? Also, does You-Know-Who feel my afflictions too or is it merely yours?"

Harry had no answers to any of these questions so simply shrugged apologetically.

"This spell has to be following some kind of pattern or rule of logic but I cannot for the life of me see what!" she exclaimed exasperatedly. "This has to be the most complicated spell I have ever come across."

Harry nodded fervently and they both fell silent for a moment. Fang came trotting merrily back over to them, reminding them of their reason for being out and thereby prompting them to resume walking again. They followed in an off-hand manner after the black boar hound without heeding which direction it was that they were heading in. At length Harry introduced conversation again.

"Have you noticed anything that could be classed as a 'side-effect'? Besides the resistance to other healing spells and the moon-scars, I mean," Harry asked her both apprehensively and pensively.

She was quiet at first, apparently contemplating her answer. "No, not really. Though saying that I have noticed an odd twinge every now and then in one of the places the spell healed, either a place healed in you or in me."

"Yeah, I've noticed that too, now you come to mention it," Harry agreed introspectively. He looked up and suddenly realised that Fang was no where to be seen. He nudged Hermione, muttering, "Can you see that hound of Hagrid's anywhere?"

Hermione's eyes too scanned their surroundings. After many minutes of fruitless surveying their efforts finally paid off when Harry detected the sign of movement just in the fringe of the trees. A moment later the silhouette of a black dog emerged, with its nose pressed to the ground. Fang had evidently picked up the scent of something and ordinarily Harry would not have paid much attention. However, he experienced an eerie prickling on the back of his neck and so turned to look edgily over his shoulder. It was a good thing he did, for there, not even a hundred yards behind them, was a cloaked and hooded figure sweeping towards them.

Harry only had time to register that the tall, dark-clad figure had raised its wand and was hurrying towards them, before he turned back around and grabbed Hermione's hand in a blind panic, yelling, "Run!"

She too glanced behind them and upon seeing the now-running figure, broke into a frightened sprint. As their pursuer was between them and the castle their only chance of escape was to run headlong into the Forbidden Forest with the faint hope of losing their unwelcome shadow in the dense undergrowth.

Harry had been just about to call this out to Hermione as they tore along, when he heard whoever it was that was chasing them bellow something in a voice Harry was almost positive he recognised. Next second, there was a flash then something white-hot grazed the side of his left ear and he watched, half-terrified as a spell shot through the gap between he and Hermione.

Hermione let out a startled cry and the two of them simultaneously increased their pace. Barely a second later they reached the perimeter of the forest and hurtled inside without considering what they were doing - there was simply no time to do anything save act.

While they had been out in the open their pursuer had the advantage with his long legs and so consequently longer stride. However, his towering height soon became a hindrance in the overgrown and entwining wood. Ignoring the sole piece of advice Hagrid had given them about the forest, Harry and Hermione left the path with only a split-second's hesitation. Each knowing that to remain on the well-trodden trails would result in certain capture.

It seemed to Harry to be ages that this hunt went on for, but it was in reality no more than ten minutes. Ten long and petrifying minutes. They were by now deep enough in the forest for the moonlight to be blocked out entirely. Though this made it nearly impossible for them to see overhanging branches or bramble bushes until it was too late, it also made it harder for their progress to be traced by the person behind them.

Neither Harry not Hermione spoke to one another, but they did keep a tight grip upon one another's hand regardless of the merciless thorns and boughs that struck and scratched them relentlessly. The undergrowth was now so dense that the branches were entwining securely so Harry and Hermione were both obliged to stop and forcibly part them.

The lofty person who was still trailing them but the distance between hunter and hunted had grown considerably, allowing the two young people the occasional pause to regain their breath and attempt to get their bearings.

"Who is that?" Hermione whispered in a trembling voice at just one such breather.

"I don't know," Harry muttered, out of breath. "But I don't think we should hang around to find out."

So they set off again at a steady jog, neither one of them had sufficient energy for sprinting now. Harry had a harsh stitch that felt like someone had stuck a knife in his ribs but he didn't dare to stop long enough to get rid of it, for the constant crackling and rustling in the gaping blackness behind him told him plainly that they were still being followed.

Hermione, who had been leading for a short while now, came to an abrupt halt meaning Harry had to dodge to avoid crashing into the back of her. He stumbled sideways and gasped at the sight before him.

The thick forest canopy had suddenly thinned without warning and the moonlight filtering readily upon the scene was almost enough to blind him after the intense darkness he had been engulfed by only moments before. Ahead of him the ground fell away sharply, leaving he and Hermione standing on the very edge of a yawning precipice.

There was nothing for it but to begin clambering cautiously down the rocky face as the someone crashing through the undergrowth behind them was getting dangerously close again, for if they remained where they were it would not be long before whoever it was stumbled upon them.

Hermione let out a frightened whimper as Harry scrambled over the edge of the ravine.

"Hermione come on!" he hissed frantically as she continued to stand immobile on the brink.

"I can't!" she wailed, closing her eyes.

"Hermione - you have to. It's our only chance, now get moving!"

Still Hermione remained motionless where she was. Harry grabbed one of her ankles, knocking her to the floor so he could desperately haul her after him. Realising that he wasn't going to leave her any choice, Hermione came to her senses and crawled off the side, clambering down the rocky slope alongside Harry.

They crept cautiously downward, but not cautiously enough for Harry lost his footing, dislodging a cascade of small stones and causing them both to tumble down in a confused helter-skelter of rocks, dust and bodies.

The mini avalanche of stones and grit soon escalated and when Harry and Hermione reached the bottom of the slope it was amid much dust, blood and bruises.

Looking back up the sheer wall of the ravine, Harry could see their attacker was now pacing along the rim, looking for another way down. The only advantage Harry was able to discern from their tumble was that they had made the already precarious surface now impassable, what with all the loose stones.

Seeing that they were still in clear view, albeit clear view half a mile below the figure, Harry pulled Hermione to her feet and together they hobbled into the thicket of trees to their right.

The Forest floor down here had a dense covering of bracken that had not yet been killed off by frost. Harry and Hermione, both of whom were exceedingly battered and bruised, each looking the worse for wear, slunk into a particularly thick crop of this half-dead greenery and sank to the floor out of sight.

No sooner had they fallen exhausted to the ground, a quiet popping noise indicated that the person who sought them had just thought of Apparating to the bottom of the gorge. The sound of fast-flowing water nearby alerted Harry to the fact that it must be a gorge they had stumbled into, one that fortunately for them had a thicket of trees growing in the bottom of it.

Harry held his breath as he heard footsteps and the sound of twigs cracking draw nearer. However, their pursuer did not know exactly where they were and so mercifully walked within four feet of them without becoming aware that they were there.

Hermione had buried her face into Harry's shoulder and Harry could feel her shaking slightly as she clung to him. He longed to be able to put his arms around her and reassure her that everything was going to be fine but did not dare to in case his movement alerted the other person to their presence.

How long they lay like this, hardly daring to breathe for fear of discovery Harry knew not but even after a substantial period of silence had slipped by he was unwilling to trust the silence as meaning the other person had departed.

He was wise to remain motionless, for the dark-robed individual who had chased them so determinedly through the Forbidden Forest was far from gone. Instead their stalker had retreated a short distance away and was observing the thicket vigilantly, awaiting the slightest movement to act upon.

After a while, Harry heard a soft rustling about ten yards to the right of his head. This rustling was almost immediately followed by a triumphant shout and the rushing sound as a spell whizzed through the air, which was then followed by a quiet, dull thud and the sound of fast approaching feet. In the twilight, Harry could just make out the impression of red and gold sweeping past as the figure hurried over to locate what the spell had struck.

It turned out that the person had stunned a rabbit thinking that the movement had been by either one of the human quarry it had chased. Despondently, the figure searched the bushes and bracken nearby. Harry once more held his breath, while his heart pounded loudly making him feel sure its sound would carry across the short distance between searcher and sought. The tall person was rummaging around so close now that Harry could hear the rhythm of their heavy breathing.

This scrabbling search was only half-hearted, however. And it wasn't long until the someone gave them up, presumably assuming that they must be long gone by now and disappeared with a dissatisfied 'pop'.

For a long time both Harry and Hermione continued to lie still, ignoring the numbness and stiffness this caused, neither one of them yet bold enough to entertain the possibility that their pursuer had really gone. But gone they had, for after a while the stillness and tranquillity was once again broken by the odd rabbit or other small mammal lopping about without provoking another attack.

Cautiously, Hermione raised her head a few inches and murmured almost inaudibly, "Have they really gone now, do you reckon?"

Harry strained to catch any unnatural sounds for a moment before answering. As everything sounded as it should, he was able to reply in the affirmative. "Yes, I think whoever it was has really left."

Carefully, they both sat up. Each wincing at their assortment of afflictions that they had received from their skid down the rock face. Harry's head was pounding, but he had as yet to ascertain whether this was because he had hit his head or Hermione had hit hers. As it turned out, Hermione had hurt hers for now that she was sat up her face and shoulders became illuminated by the pale moon. Harry was then able to see that she had sustained a blow to the side of her head, which had been cut. Her hair was wet with blood on one side and stuck closely to her scalp.

"You're bleeding!" Harry cried in concern.

"Not much," Hermione replied, trying hard not to grimace.

"Let me have a look," he insisted, ignoring her statement.

Hermione brushed him off impatiently and got to her feet. Harry followed suit, still staring at her in alarm.

"Harry, honestly I'm fine," she told him earnestly, "Don't fuss."

"Ok, ok - you're fine. Just humour me then, ok?"

She relented but only because she no longer had the strength to argue; she barely had energy enough to stand unsupported. Harry checked her head injury and found it was fairly minor, but being a scalp wound had bled freely.

He put his arm around her and she likewise put hers around him, then they supported one another as they hobbled slowly toward the sound of running water. A short distance away, obscured by the dense thicket of trees, was a fast flowing river that had cut the deep ravine over the course of many decades.

What Harry was a little surprised at was that there was vegetation down in the bottom of the gorge, growing alongside the river. Not that his geography was all that great, but what he did know was that more often than not a narrow gorge such as this one was usually apt to containing nothing more than the river whose constant flowing had gouged away the rock in the first place. However, Harry was not at leisure to spend much time mulling this over at present, so he simply contented himself with being thankful that there had been vegetation enough to conceal them regardless of how it came to be there.

A short but agonisingly slow walk had brought the two of them to what could be described as a sort of small-scale shingle beach upon which they appreciatively sank onto.

Having first quenched their thirsts with some of the cool water, they set about cleaning up their scrapes and grazes. Harry scooped up some water and set about washing the clotted blood from Hermione's hair. It was slow work as most of the water trickled through Harry's fingers before it reached her, no matter how tightly he pressed his hands together in an attempt to prevent it.

One might have wondered why Hermione did not just simply put her head in the river itself as this would certainly rinse out the blood much more efficiently. But this was out of the question for the water was bitingly cold and Harry's hands were already numb and painful. Therefore Hermione placing her head in the rapidly flowing liquid would be decidedly foolish lest she should get hypothermia.

By the time Harry had washed all remaining traces of the blood from Hermione's hair, Yueliang Du had kicked in and healed the wound that had initially created the mess. Though Harry did not voice them, he had his suspicions that the spell was beginning to take effect quicker than it had been previously. He was not altogether sure whether he should be glad of this or not, for while he was especially thankful that they had to endure any pain for a curtailed length of time, he felt an uneasiness as to the possible consequences this was bound to induce.

At present, however, Harry had one or two more pressing concerns to worry about. Since neither one of them had been intending on leaving the castle in the first instance, they had not stopped to retrieve their winter cloaks from their dormitories. And while this had not really mattered all the time they had been sprinting through the forest, now that they were out in the open they were sincerely regretting leaving without them.

It was vitally important that the two of them did something to generate warmth, for having lain still for the length of time they had had caused them to lose the heat they had created by running. Then the cleaning of cuts in the icy river had robbed them of still more precious warmth, meaning that they were both now in very real danger of suffering from exposure.

Hermione was much colder than Harry who was already shivering violently. She was in fact now too cold to even shiver and all she remained able to do was curl up into a ball while Harry did his best to shelter her from the harsh wind.

Harry frantically scanned their surroundings, desperately searching for a way out. The cliff faces on either side of the river were too sheer to attempt to scramble back up even if they had possessed the strength, which right now they most certainly didn't. However, the less steep side was of no use to them for it would lead them away from Hogwarts and it was on the other side of the fast flowing river, which Harry felt right now would have been particularly stupid to try and cross. They were certainly in an impossible situation. If only they could be warmer, then maybe a way out would be easier to spot.

Harry had a sudden inspiration that made him physically jump at the unexpectedness of it. Sensing his abrupt movement, Hermione opened an eye and peered at him blearily.

"Hermione - that night when we had Astronomy and I was cold, what was the spell you used to warm me up?" Harry asked her urgently.

Hermione's other eye snapped open and she unsteadily pushed herself up onto her elbow. Harry presumed the cold was making it difficult for her to think clearly because she appeared to be straining to remember. After a tense pause she pulled out her wand and murmured, "Calidus fovçre."

Immediately Harry experienced a cloud of warmth settling upon him, then next moment Hermione had turned her wand upon herself and performed the warming charm a second time. The sudden comfort of heat after being deprived of it for so long was overwhelming, and the two of them were temporarily speechless as they basked in their new found heat.

"Where would I be without you, eh?" Hermione said laughingly as she rolled over onto her back and gazed at Harry in adoration.

Harry peered at her intently for a moment. He then checked his watch and said seriously, "If it weren't for me I'd say that right about now you'd be seated comfortably at a table in the Gryffindor common room, making a start on some piece or other of homework that wasn't due in for at least two weeks!"

Hermione smiled at the accuracy of his conjecture but did not reply straight away. Instead she sat and took one of his hands before leaning her back against him.

"It's not because of you that we're down here," she told him composedly.

Harry raised his eyebrows at her, but as she was no longer facing him she was unaware of the sceptical look he was fixing her with. "It is because of me, Hermione. I was the one who -"

But Hermione wasn't going to allow him to finish. She turned around and put a finger to his lips to silence him before starting to speak herself. "Ok, it is partly because of you but how were you to know that someone from the Order of the Phoenix was going to chase us, leaving us no option but to get stranded down here. And anyway, you were right - Fang needed a proper walk. It's just unfortunate that someone decided to take advantage of the fact that we were out alone... Speaking of Fang - where on earth did he get to?"

Harry shrugged, "You know how much of a coward he is - he probably saw the stranger running after us and headed back to Hagrid's. You know, I'm betting that when we get back to Hogwarts we'll find him sat on Hagrid's doorstep waiting to be let back in."

Hermione was quiet for a time after Harry's speech, peering around her with newly awakened interest.

"Where do you reckon it is we are? I mean, it can't be in the Hogwarts' grounds anymore because -"

"- Whoever it was stalking us Disapparated, then apparated down here and they wouldn't have been able to do that if we were still in Hogwarts," Harry finished for her. "I don't know where we are... Hey - wait a minute. Did you say that the person who followed us was a member of the Order of the Phoenix?"

Hermione nodded, "Hence the red and gold robes. Do you reckon it was the same one that broke into Madam Pomfrey's office?"

"It would make sense for it to be the same one, wouldn't it? I wonder what it was they were after..." Harry replied, thinking aloud.

Hermione once more rested her head on his shoulder and Harry put his arms around her protectively. Each was thoughtful for a time, then Harry broke the stillness of the surrounding night by saying, "So what are we going to do now then?"

"You are going to come with us and you are going to come quietly," growled a towering figure behind Harry. Both Harry and Hermione cried out in shock and leapt around, alarmed to see three people dressed in red and gold robes sporting a black phoenix on the front standing only a few yards away. Each of the people was masked and each had their wand trained on one or the other of the two frightened young people.

Harry got to his feet quickly, as did Hermione who stood slightly behind him. By looking at the three people before him Harry was able to see that they had not long been there and had probably apparated just as he was speaking, thereby explaining why he had not heard them arrive.

The central hooded figure was a tall and broad-shouldered man. He was the one who had followed them and he was the one who had spoken. No doubt when he had left them earlier it was to retrieve some allies who would assist him in his search for them.

Harry turned his attention to the man's two companions. The person on the left was a man whose hood was so deep it shrouded all of the man's facial features in darkness, making it difficult for Harry to tell whether he recognised him or not. Harry then looked at the third person of the party. A young woman was stood on the tall man's right flank with her face masked but her hood down. She was lithe and graceful with a head of long silvery-blonde hair and though Harry had not seen her for in excess of two years, he had no trouble in recognising her picturesque profile.

"Fleur? Fleur Delacour?" he gasped in utter astonishment.

The woman laughed softly and tossed her hair over her slender shoulders pointedly. Hers was a silvery laugh that went very well with her silvery hair. "'Ello 'Arry! I am vairy glad to see zat you have not fergotten me."

The two men appeared to be scowling heavily at Fleur, but as Harry could only see part of one face and hardly anything of the other it was extremely difficult to be sure.

Harry gaped at Fleur with his mouth hanging open and he was completely astounded. If Hermione's silence was anything to go by then she too was at a loss for words.

When Harry had recovered he turned to face the middle man defiantly, "And what makes you think we'll go anywhere with you?"

"Harry, Harry, Harry," began the man jovially, "just because we don't want to hurt you -" Here the mysterious figure made a low noise of dissent, earning himself a reproving glance from the speaker, "- doesn't mean that we won't."

He clicked his fingers once and Harry instantly felt thin cords snaking their way up his body and binding him tightly. A fleeting glance at Hermione was sufficient to tell him that she too had been tied up.

"Now," said the man, speaking in a friendly yet stern voice, which did not suit the situation at all, "we can either do this the easy way or the hard way - it is entirely your choice."

"What is it you want from us?" Harry asked coolly, ignoring what the tall fellow had said.

"You'll find out soon enough," was the pleasantly spoken reply Harry received before the man turned to the shrouded figure on his left, "What's the time?"

The man extended his left arm and pulled back his sleeve to see his watch, but as he did so the moonlight fell on the man's forearm revealing a red tattoo. Harry felt his jaw drop a second time as he realised with a jolt that it was not a tattoo but in actual fact the Dark Mark.

"You're a Death Eater?" Harry said hoarsely, not at all understanding what was going on. Curtly, the man pulled his sleeve back down so that it once more covered the sign on his arm. He withdrew further into his hood so that Harry was no longer able to see the pale, pointed chin that had surfaced a moment ago.

The middle man laughed heartily at his companion's reaction and turned back to Harry who was surveying the three before him with undisguised disgust.

"Sadly for my friend here, there are some spots that don't ever come off - but then I suppose you'd know all about that..." he trailed off, eyeing Harry's lightning bolt scar. Harry then saw him begin to squint in disbelief at him, then at Hermione.

After a moment he shook his head slightly, adding, "I think the moonlight must be playing tricks with my eyes for I'm sure you both have distinctly sliver complexions... But perhaps we all do in this light."

He once again turned to the man on his left, "I do believe you forgot to tell me what the time was!"

"Nine o'clock, just gone," growled the man shortly. His voice was strangely muffled - no doubt because of the hood. But Harry was almost positive that it was a voice he would have had no problem in recognising in normal circumstances.

After a long silence on her part, Fleur spoke again but this time in her natural tongue, "Jean! Maintenant nous irons - sans perdre de temps!"

Harry was astounded. Never in his life had he ever had a French lesson yet, inexplicably, he knew exactly what Fleur had said. It had been to the effect of 'we will go now - without wasting any time'.

The man she had addressed - Jean - then replied in the same language, "Voulez-vous venir avec moi, s'il vous plaît?"

The pair of them moved a short distance away where they continued their conversation in hushed voices. Though they were still conversing fluently in French Harry caught the odd word of their talk. He was then able to establish that someone (he'd not managed to catch the name) had been expecting the three Order of the Phoenix members to attend some sort of meeting almost an hour ago, regardless of whether they had been able to bring him - Harry - with them or not.

He kept up a muttered running commentary of what he heard for Hermione's benefit, whose first comment at a convenient pause was, "You didn't tell me you could understand French!"

Harry turned his head to look at her and returned, "Until just know - I didn't know I could."

She looked as baffled by this statement as he felt but was prevented from replying by the return of Fleur and Jean.

"We are to leave now and I advise you both strongly not to resist for we will be using Apparation. Therefore any struggling on your parts would most likely result in your being splinched and I'm sure neither of you wants for that to happen," Jean told them mildly, walking over to where they were stood still tightly bound.

There was a faint 'pop' and Harry saw the un-named man Disapparate. Next minute Harry felt the strong hands of Jean gripping his shoulders, while Fleur took hold of Hermione. Then Harry experienced a very strange sensation that was entirely new to him. He saw the gorge scene disappear to be almost instantly replaced by a different place altogether.

Harry found he had suddenly appeared in the grounds of an ancient ruin of what seemed to be an abbey. The landscape surrounding the abbey was the quaintly beautiful rolling hills of northern or western England, informing Harry that they were no longer in Scotland's rough and rugged mountainous terrain.

Before Harry could observe anything else that might give him a better idea of his present situation, he felt the cords around his legs slackening and falling away. He was now able to walk without falling over, however, his arms remained clamped securely to his sides, preventing him from being able to extract his wand from his robe pocket.

Side by side, Harry and Hermione were forced to march into the ruins of the abbey itself. There were one or two areas that were still roofed, but more often than not the passages and rooms they walked trough had no ceiling save the starry sky.

After weaving in and out of seemingly endless passages and chambers for many minutes, Harry and Hermione were finally escorted into an antechamber with a huge arched window at one end. Here they were told to wait before the rotting oak door they had passed through was slammed and bolted shut behind them.

There was the sound of voices on the other side of them door, then echoing footsteps hastily growing fainter.

"Where are we now?" Hermione asked Harry anxiously, her eyes darting around looking for an escape route.

Harry too looked around as he shook his head in response. The walls of the room were too high to climb and the door they had just come through was now bolted - possibly guarded. Their only hope of escape was through the window whose glass had long since been removed. However, the window, though hug, was set high up into the wall and as both of them were still bound securely there was no way they could scale up to it.

Hermione sank despondently to her knees, evidently still trying to think of an escape plan though she had given up hope of their finding one in time.

"What is it you reckon they want with us?" Harry asked her after a while, sinking to the floor in frustration too.

Hermione shook her head, "I don't know, Harry. I just don't know."

Harry was quiet for a minute the inquired thoughtfully. "Did you get the feeling you would have recognised either of the two men had they been unmasked?"

Hermione looked up and peered searchingly at Harry before replying, "I'm positive I know the shorter man - the one with the Dark Mark on his arm. Only I can't think who it is... I'm sure I'll kick myself at the obviousness when I find out, but just at the moment I can't think who it could be. About that Jean bloke though - I don't recollect seeing him or anyone like him ever before. Did you think you recognised him then?"

"I think so - but I've vaguely seen all of the Order of the Phoenix people previously though, haven't I? So it's probably because of that..." Harry replied, thinking back to the night back in his fifth year when he had met the renegades who had formed what he had come to know as the Order of the Phoenix.

"I suppose you didn't know before that Delacour was one of them?" Hermione asked him quietly, sounding repelled that Fleur had turned out to belong to that organisation. "I mean, you identified her almost straight away just now, so didn't you know she was one of them when you saw them all together?"

"Well, I assume the reason why I didn't recognise her before was simply due to the fact I didn't see everyone clearly then, and they were all hooded and masked - much more like our elusive Death Eater friend..." Harry said thoughtfully.

"Speaking of him," began Hermione pragmatically. "Is he still a Death Eater or is he a convert? And if he's still a Death Eater, then what's he up to?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," he responded nonchalantly, "but whoever he was, he certainly was eager to conceal his identity from us, wasn't he? I wonder why that could be..."

Harry temporarily sank into his own conjectures as to possible reasons so it took him a minute to notice that Hermione was biting her lip apprehensively. When he did finally perceive her behaviour, he stared at her expectantly for a moment before losing his patience and prompted, "Well, what is it? What have you just worked out?"

Harry looked at her more closely and soon became aware that she was more than just apprehensive; she was completely taken aback.

With much trepidation, she gazed up at him with wide eyes as she stuttered out her reply. "Harry, you - you don't think...? Surely... Surely not... Not Snape?"

I must have heard wrong, Harry thought to himself, she didn't just say Snape, did she? Harry stared blankly at her, nonplussed. "What did you just say?"

"The Death Eater/Order of the Phoenix associate - whatever he is - is Snape," she said quietly.

Initially, Harry was stunned. Snape wouldn't join up with the Order of the Phoenix, would he? Dumbledore trusted him and usually Dumbledore didn't misplace his trust even though he bestowed it upon candidates most other people won't even give a second glance to...

But then the pieces began to slide into place. Snape had been away for the past couple of days and the Order of the Phoenix had suddenly re-emerged. Snape - being a former Death Eater - had the Dark Mark branded onto his arm, as had the mysterious man. And if the man really was Snape, then that clarified why he had been so eager that he - Harry - and Hermione did not see his face for they would immediately have known who he was. Then there was the fact that Harry had been able to glimpse part - albeit a small part - of the fellow's chin, which had been of a pale complexion; Snape's sallow skin would appear pale in the pale moonlight.

Now all Harry had to do was establish what motive Snape might have for forming an alliance with the unpredictable and highly dangerous troop of people that made up the Order of the Phoenix.

Then the solution hit him, it was so simple that he wondered how he could have failed to see it sooner. As Snape was already spy for Dumbledore against Voldemort, why not act as a spy who kept a watch on the Order of the Phoenix too? Harry ran this theory past Hermione who agreed with it whole-heartedly. Now they had solved that little mystery, they were once more suddenly left wondering how they were to escape. Since their minds were no longer puzzling over the mysterious man, they were again free to worry about their present situation.

"Harry, do you have your wand?"

"Of course - but I can't reach it," he replied in a defeated voice.

"Maybe I can. My arms don't appear to have been so immovable bound as yours and I can move them a little." She demonstrated exactly how much she could wriggle her arms. It may not have been much, but it might just be sufficient for her intended purpose and it seemed to have an encouraging effect on them both.

"Do you think you could?" Harry asked eagerly, trying to contain his delight as there was still every possibility that the attempt would fail. "It's in my right pocket if you want to have a go at retrieving it."

Hermione shuffled awkwardly on her knees until her arm was as close to his robe pocket as she could get it. With a determined expression set upon her face she made a start at the vexing task.

It was slow work for not only were Hermione's wrists at the wrong angle in relation to his pocket, her hands were at the wrong height too. Despite all her attempts at kneeling up and shifting to try to improve the position. Perhaps if the two of them had remained standing the operation would have been less trying, but as they could not easily get back into a vertical position she just had to proceed as she was.

Harry sat very still, only moving when she directed him to, and kept quiet, not wanting to break her concentration.

After many tense minutes Hermione let out a triumphant, "Yes! I've got it!"

And sure enough, there in her hand was Harry's wand. Harry beamed at her greatly relieved and said, "Now all you need to do is decide upon a spell to perform."

Hermione smiled broadly, "I've already chosen one."

She then pointed the wand at Harry and waved it jerkily. However, the bonds were too restrictive for the swishing movement to work correctly so instead the sudden motion served to do no more than send the wand clattering onto the floor a couple of feet away.

All triumph quickly left Hermione as she scuttled over to where it lay and tried vainly to pick it up again. Pale-faced and defeated she returned her gaze to Harry who had joined her to help. "I can't get at it - the cords are too tight for me to be able to reach."

"How about lying on your side - couldn't you reach it that way?" Harry suggested desperately.

"If I lie on the floor I won't be able to get back up again, so even if I did manage to get hold of your wand I wouldn't be in a position to cast any spells with it," she replied in a voice that told Harry all too plainly that she had all but given up hope.

"Well, what if I were to try and reach it - would you be able to take it from my hand?"

She looked at him dubiously, "I doubt if you'd be able to get it. I mean, can you move your arms at all?"

Harry tried but couldn't so dejectedly shook his head. "There must be something else we can try."

Shoulders slumped, Hermione lowered her gaze to the floor and muttered softly, "Like what?"

Harry cast his eyes around them again, hoping blindly that some sudden inspiration would hit him and reveal a feasible getaway plan. Having scanned the walls and window before to no avail, he turned his attention to the floor in case something there might catch his eye and provide a solution.

However, there was nothing but cracked flagstones with grass sprouting up between them and the odd loose stone block. None of which were of any use to him at present.

It was as Harry swivelled around to scan the ground behind him that he felt something brush against his leg. Wondering what it could be, Harry looked down and saw a thin, rectangular bulge in his pocket. Of course! The gadget knife from Sirius! He carried it almost everywhere with him - if only Hermione could get it...

"Hey Hermione!" Harry hissed hurriedly, "I've got an idea - forget the wand and see if you can get the knife out of my pocket instead."

Fleetingly her eyes brightened and her expression cleared, but then her face fell again as she asked nervously, "Its not the Carmen-Eversor, is it? Because if it is we may as well -"

"No - its the penknife Sirius gave me a couple of years back," Harry cut across her in an urgent impatience. "Hurry though - they're bound to come back soon, seeing as it's a while since they left."

Hermione said nothing more but manoeuvred as speedily as she could over to Harry's side and set to work at plucking the knife from his pocket.

The practise of trying for the wand seemed to have had an effect for Hermione was able to get the blade much more efficiently than she had the wand. Once it was firmly within her grasp she ensured that no repeat of earlier occurred and kept a good grip on its handle.

She immediately made a start on hacking away at the thin robes binding Harry, they fell away readily and it was in only a short space f time that he was entirely free from his ropes. Without wasting any time he took the knife from her and slashed her cords in only a few clean strokes.

For a moment after they had been released from their bonds they simply stood staring at one another. They came to their senses and frantically looked around. The only possibility was the window but before they had even reached the wall upon which the window was situated, they heard a sound that would have chilled anyone's blood had they been in the same predicament. It was the soft sound of fast approaching footsteps on the other side of the door. Their captors had returned.

Harry and Hermione froze in horror as the footsteps reached the door. There was the sound of voices just outside the room, but it appeared that the owners of the voices were in no apparent haste to enter the antechamber that was Harry and Hermione's gaol.

Having closely scrutinised every corner of where they were, Harry knew that the room contained nothing that would be suitable to hide behind but even if it had it would have served no other purpose than to delay the inevitable. For the people who sought them would soon find them whether they tried to hide or not anyway.

Harry was in despair. There was no way out - no escape. Not a shred of hope remained. All that was left to do now was wish that the people on the other side of the door would hurry up and stop dawdling as it only prolonged the tension he was under.

Many more minutes slipped past without bringing anyone else into the room and this small breathing space, though only a matter of minutes long, was enough for Hermione to formulate a plan. She had been doing some seriously quick thinking since the sound of people approaching and now she turned to Harry with the beginnings of a scheme that would hopefully save them from they knew not what.

"Harry, listen to me," she began in a low and hurried voice, "I've got an idea that might just work but I don't have time to explain it to you. All you need to do is remain entirely still no matter what happens, ok?"

"Ok," Harry said slowly, utterly perplexed. "What are you going to do?"

"Shhh!" she hissed, "I told you there's no time to explain."

She then grabbed his arm and dragged him over to where the stone blocks lay discarded. She then proceeded to pull out her wand and point it at Harry, muttering, "Glamius stone block."

Harry was briefly aware of a flash of light then a fizzling sound, before he felt an odd tingling sensation running all through him. He did not truly appreciate what it was that Hermione had done until she turned her wand upon herself and whispered "Glamius stone block," a second time.

There was a second flash of light and a second fizzling noise, and Hermione was gone. In her place was another of the slightly crumbled blocks that exactly matched those that made up the walls. It suddenly became very obvious to Harry what Hermione had done; she had altered their outward appearances using the very Camouflaging charm that Flitwick had shown them in their lesson that morning.
As it turned out, Hermione could not have performed the charm a moment too soon, for Harry did not even have a chance to comment on what she had done before the bolt was slid back with a resonating thud.

Four people entered the antechamber, all talking amongst themselves. However, as soon as they perceived the severed cords on the floor in the middle of the apparently deserted room all conversation stopped.

"Zey have gone!" exclaimed Fleur in amazement.

There was a brief pause, then one of the new arrivals whom had not been present in the ravine rounded on Fleur furiously, "What the hell did you do? You were supposed to be guarding them - not letting them escape!"

"Hey - do not shout at me - if you think zat you could have done a bettair job zen why did you not stand outside ze door instead?" Fleur hollered back at the man who had yelled at her.

Before this man, who short and stocky with a heavy jaw, could make a retort Jean held up a hand to prevent him from speaking. Jean then walked over to where the remains of the ropes littered the floor.

Harry didn't know why, but he held his breath as Jean stooped to pick up the cords. Jean examined them closely and when he looked up Harry thought he could discern an astute expression on his face, from the little of his face that was unmasked.

"These have been cut - judging by the neatness I'd say by a knife," he stated in a low voice with the merest trace of a growl. He then looked at Fleur in a calculating manner.

"This boy is a friend of yours, is he not?" Jean asked her sternly.

"We are on - err - how do you say? Friendly terms," she replied softly.

Harry snorted quietly, luckily for him the sound did not carry across to the huddle of people in the centre of the chamber.

"Did you help them to escape?" Jean inquired in a dangerous soft voice.

There was a moment of charged silence, then Fleur exploded indignantly and bellowed an awful lot of things Harry would not have expected to come from the mouth of a supposedly well-bred young lady like her. After she had finished her outburst with her chest heaving with emotion, Jean merely said lightly, "Have you, quite finished or is there anything else you would like to add? No - kindly answer the question."

Fleur simply shook her head meekly.

"Right, thank you. That wasn't so hard now was it? And you remained outside of the door the whole time, yes?"

"My orders were to stay zair so zat is what I did," she replied haughtily.

Jean looked at Fleur intently, as did the two other people. One was the short, irritable wizard the other a plain looking witch who was more or less the same height as the other unknown individual. Harry watched the two newer people for a minute, then once more returned his attention to Jean who was talking again.

"I presume we can conclude from this that you have seen nothing of either of them since closing the door on them earlier?" At a brief nod from Fleur he continued, "Then the only other way out is the window."

All four of the scarlet and gold clad figures turned their eyes upon the window and Harry could see that they all - except Jean whose face remained impassive - wore doubtful expressions.

"Come, let us search outside - they might not have gone far yet," snapped the short wizard with the short temper.

Fleur and the two unknown people immediately began making a beeline for the door, but Jean, however, remained where he was a moment longer. He was stood stock-still, seemingly deep in thought.

"Aren't you coming, Jean?" said Jean slowly. He then took a wand from somewhere in his robes and muttered "Lumos."

Harry felt an exceedingly unpleasant jolt somewhere in the region of his stomach as he saw Jean turn and direct the beam of light from his wand to exactly where he - Harry - was standing.

It was a very tense moment. No sooner had the path of light fallen upon his feet, for presumably he still retained the outward appearance of the stone block, did Harry begin to feel he could not possibly stand motionless for another second longer.

However, Harry resisted the urge to move and was rewarded by Jean lowering his wand, saying softly, "Nox."

"What was zat all about?" Fleur inquired curiously, while the witch and wizard on either side of her seemed to shoot looks of askance at one another.

"Thought I detected a sign of movement, that's all," Jean replied shortly, stroking his chin thoughtfully with his eyes on the severed cords on the floor.

The party by the door once again made to move through it, beckoning for Jean to do likewise. "Do come along, Jean. Let us waste no more time in here - unless of course you mean to tell us that you think they may be hiding behind one of those stone blocks over there..."

"You go ahead," said Jean, waving a hand at them in a preoccupied manner. "I'm going to remain here for a bit - see if I can't find any clues that might solve one or two of these little mysteries."

"Clues?" repeated the wizard with a derisive laugh. "My dear fellow, if I didn't know better I'd say you still believed yourself to be working for the Ministry - clues indeed! I doubt very much if you will find anything of use, why waste your efforts?"

"What little mysteries?" asked the witch in a soft, wispy sort of voice that barely carried across the room to where Harry was standing.

"Well, first of all - they both fell down the sheer face of a ravine, I saw them do so. Yet when we found them on the river bank neither of them was in anyway injured. However, there was blood on their robes when we caught up with them, therefore meaning that they must have been hurt - so what happened to their wounds?"

"They must have healed them, countless potions could do so," snapped the wizard brusquely. "Why do you insist upon making a big deal of it?"

Jean laughed, it was a booming laugh that made many levels to it, that echoed around the high-walled, roofless chamber. "First of all, my friend, what is the chances of their carrying healing drafts in their pockets? And second, how much did you know about magical methods of healing when you were seventeen? No, there is something else going on here that is much deeper. Then take the present scenario. Both bound tightly, unable to reach their wands and locked in a guarded room, they still somehow managed to escape. My question is, how?"

"Are you suggesting that they are not alone? That they have some unseen accomplice with them, who was able to heal them, cut their bonds and help them to escape?" asked the quiet witch in a quiet voice.

"I'm not suggesting anything, save that we have severely underestimated them both," Jean returned thoughtfully. "Look, just go out and have a scout around for a bit - I'm going to stay here."

Without saying a further word, the three people turned and walked slowly out of the chamber. Jean stared after them, continuing to look at the open door for a long while after they had gone. It was only when the faint sound of their footfalls had completely faded away did he stir from his reverie.

He turned and strode towards the collection of blocks, amongst which Harry and Hermione were concealed, and said flatly, "I know you're there, so enough with the pretence and come on out."

Sick with dread, Harry didn't move. Nor did Hermione. Jean took a few steps closer to the assortment of blocks and stopped, inches away from where Harry supposed Hermione to be. Cold sweat was breaking out on Harry's forehead now as he strove to remain perfectly inert.

After a moment of surveying the block gravely, Jean gave it a sharp kick with the steel toe-cap of his boot. He then leapt aback a pace or two in shock as Hermione let out a stifled cry. The fact that his action had provoked a reaction was not what had startled Jean. Harry could see that he was shocked that the cry should have come from somewhere level with his torso.

Slowly and cautiously, Jean extended a hand, while Harry observed him in horror, not knowing what course of action was best to take. However, Harry was saved from coming up with a spur-of-the-moment plan by what Hermione did next.

She screamed, "Harry - run!"

A split-second later, she reappeared unexpectedly as she had leapt forward and sunk her teeth deep into the flesh of Jean's hand. But she had not just bitten into skin and muscle - Harry was able to see a moment later that she had somehow managed to get her teeth behind Jean's tendon. Jean was so astonished that his wand fell from his grasp and before he could do anything more than stare in stunned agony at his hand, Hermione had released him and stalked off after Harry. The two captives leapt through the door, one closely followed by the other and Harry slammed it shut, sliding the bolt across with a resonating clang.

The roles had been reversed; the captives became the captors.

Without further hesitation Harry and Hermione hurtled through corridor after corridor, past room after room hardly heeding where it was they were going in their anxiety to get out. Seeing as neither one remembered anything of their route to the antechamber it did not seem to signify much which way it was in which they ran.

After about five minutes of gruelling running, the pair found themselves in what appeared to have once been a huge and magnificent hall. Now there was not much left to look at - there was no roof, indeed there was barely any walls left to support a roof had one remained, and there was only coarse grass under foot. However, the very fact that so little left of the room was very welcome to Harry and Hermione, for in places stood partitions of wall no more than two foot high.

Without preamble, Harry, followed closely by Hermione, darted forward and hopped off onto the surrounding grass. Harry turned and gave a hand to help Hermione down, at the same time checking that no one was in view of them. They were alone on this side of the abbey; however, they had not yet reached safety for the land around the ruins was all open. There was no cover to be had for about a quarter of a mile where there was a copse of what looked like oak trees.

"Where- is he? Why isn't - he follow- following us?" Hermione panted, looking imploringly at Harry as she clutched at a stitch in her side.

Why Jean was not chasing after them was a mystery to Harry, but one that he had no time to think about just then.

"Dunno - let's worry about that later though. We ought to keep moving," he said, tugging her hand as he cast his eyes around them again warily.

Hearts pounding nervously, they set off at a jog heading for the woodland across the moonlit meadow. It took them possibly about five minutes to reach it, every now and then looking back over their shoulders expecting at any moment to be spotted and pursued. However, it was relatively uneventfully that they came to the copse.

Having walked a short distance into the line of trees, Harry and Hermione came to a stop and sat down, amid the colourful leaf litter that carpeted the forest floor. Harry leant his back against a tree and closed his eyes. For a time, the only sounds that could be heard were the wind rustling the leaves above their heads and the puffing of their heavy breathing as they endeavoured to regain their normal rhythms.

When Harry opened his eyes once more, he found that Hermione was lying sprawled on the leave-strewn ground, clutching at her side. She had evidently still got her stitch.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked her quietly, getting up and crossing over to her before kneeling by her side.

Hermione opened one eye, looked at him briefly then nodded. She then opened her other eye and sat up, fixing Harry with a mildly severe expression.

Perplexed, Harry said, "What? What was that look for?"

She sighed heavily in response and hugged her knees to her chest for a moment or two, whilst leaning her head against them. When she once more looked up at Harry, it was to find him shooting questioning glances at her. She smiled playfully, then said - "Can you do me a favour please, Harry?"

"Sure - what?" Harry replied immediately.

"The next time you get the urge to say something to the effect of, 'what could possibly happen? I mean, it's not like we're going to go into the Forbidden Forest or anything' - don't; just don't say anything at all. Jeez - if ever I heard a jinx, that was one."

She had perhaps intended to affront Harry by saying that, but there had been such a mixture of sweetness and archness when she had spoken that made it impossible for her to have affronted anyone. This was therefore why Harry said nothing in reply but simply leant forward and pressed his lips lightly against hers before drawing back and smiling widely despite the predicament they found themselves in.

Hermione lay back down and gazed at Harry reflectively, a serene smile lighting up her eyes. Harry then settled himself by her side, slipping an arm under her neck in order to draw her head to him while placing his other arm around her waist. Hermione once more buried her face in his neck and he could feel her breath, warm and light as it drifted beneath his collar.

Harry breathed in deeply, relishing the sweet honey fragrance of her hair as it entered his nostrils with each intake of air. As he held her close he could feel her trembling very slightly and so leant back to peer in her face to ensure she was all right. But as he met her gaze and made to speak, she prevented any of his words from leaving his throat by leaning forward and touching her lips softly against his. Harry returned her kiss tenderly at first; their lips only brushing each other as lightly as the autumn leaves upon the trees they sheltered under. Harry soon found himself swept up in the surge of emotions she had stirred within his chest and it wasn't long before he was pressing his face forward into hers with a desperate hunger.

It wasn't long until Harry was aware of nothing but her and indeed she too was exactly the same about him. His heart pounded far faster now than it had at any time previously during the night's frightening adventures for the feelings Harry felt as he kissed Hermione were so intense that they frightened him as well as thrilled him. He was intoxicated in the passions she inspired and nothing else mattered to him anymore, nothing save the reality of loving her so very deeply as he found he did.

They were so close now that Harry could feel her eyelashes fluttering against his cheek, yet still she wasn't near enough. Harry's arms encircled her and drew her nearer still while Hermione had placed one hand lovingly on his chest, her other hand smoothing his scruffy hair.

The kiss lasted a long time, but when it ended neither of them drew away but stayed locked in a fierce embrace. Harry kissed her hot face, utterly ensnared, as the entwined pair listened to the silence around them that was so complete it gave the distinct impression that the whole world had ended and there was nothing left but them.

Harry felt liberated, liberated by the very way she made him feel and he revelled in this freedom from fears and worries that she bestowed unconsciously upon him. At every point of contact between them Harry experienced a tingling sensation that left him befuddled at the same time as yearning for her more profoundly than ever before.

For a considerable length of time they lay still, saying nothing but just merely listening as their beating hearts adopted the same rhythm. Then as other sounds gradually became perceivable again, Harry reluctantly knew that it was time to let her go and start to thing objectively about what it was they were going to do.

It appeared that Hermione had just been thinking more or less the same thing for she loosened her hold on him and leant back on the leaves. "How are we going to get back to Hogwarts?"

"Er - pass," Harry replied flatly, giving her an apologetic grin whilst grimacing inwardly. The only way Harry knew that a person could enter Hogwarts without going through an entrance or secret passage was by using a portkey. However, this was not really an option in their case for they did not have any convenient portkeys at hand that would just happen to take them to Hogwarts.

Apparation would be a method that could get them to Hogsmeade, but the snag was Harry was not old enough to have taken his Apparation test and they neither of them knew how to Apparate. Then there was always the possibility of travelling by Floo powder into Hogsmeade but the problem with this arose in that they did not have any Floo powder, nor indeed access to a fireplace that was connected to the Floo network.

There was a long pause, in which the only sound to be heard was that of the nippy wind as it whipped playfully between the trees, rustling leaves and whirling carelessly through Hermione's hair. Hermione then got carefully to her feet and brushed off the fragments of leaves and twigs that clung to her robes.

"Well, I'd say we've got a long walk ahead of us then," she said grimly as Harry too got to his feet.

"But we don't even know the way," Harry protested meekly, then as he remembered something he withdrew his wand from his pocket and placed it flat on his out stretched palm. "Point me."

The wand spun around on Harry's palm, spinning through quite a number of complete rotations before finally coming to a halt with the tip pointing further into the wood, thankfully in the opposite direction from the abbey they had just fled from.

"Judging by the scenery, we're somewhere in England," said Hermione matter-of-factly, "so - as Hogwarts is situated in Scotland - we need to head north; the same way your wand is indicating."

Harry peered at Hermione in disbelief. "You're not seriously suggesting we walk all the way back to the castle? That's crazy - it'll take us weeks! We're probably hundreds of miles away!"

"Harry - what choice do we have? Anyway, I was thinking more of heading towards Hogwarts but finding a solution en route - there's bound to be a wizarding household that we can seek help at," she told him in quiet earnest, and as Harry had no better proposal to put forward he saw no point in resisting what she had suggested.

"Well, I suppose we ought to put as much distance between us and that abbey back there as is physically possible," Harry said, more to resign himself to the long walk ahead of them than anything else. "But what I still don't get is why we've not been followed... I mean Jean went to all the trouble of chasing us through the Forbidden Forest, then searching for us down in the gorge and even disappearing off so he could get some assistance - you would have thought that after all that he'd not give up so easily."

Hermione looked very intently at Harry before replying seriously, "What makes you think he's given up?"

Harry didn't have an answer to that so he changed the subject, "Let's just get going then, shall we?"

So they made a start on their journey, not speaking much but instead occupying themselves with being extra vigilant in case someone should be trailing them. Every now and again one of them would think they heard or saw something but each of these alerts seemingly turned out to be false alarms for on closer inspection they could discern nothing more than their first panicked supposed detection. However, what Harry did not tell Hermione was that he kept experiencing the prickling sensation on the back of his neck that told him he was being watched. Despite the fact that nothing could be detected definitely when they strained to see or hear something, Harry was almost certain that something or - more accurately - someone unwelcome was keeping a close eye on their progress while remaining out of sight.

"What's the time?" Hermione whispered timidly, gripping Harry's hand tightly.

Harry checked the luminous dial of his wristwatch. "Just gone ten o'clock. Why?"

"I was just wondering, that's all," she replied quietly before falling silent again for a minute. She then seemed to decide that she had had about as much silence as she could stand as she made a stab at conversation. "Who do you reckon the two newer people were? The witch and wizard who appeared with Fleur and Jean, I mean."

"I don't know - I didn't really recognise either of them if that was what you were implying. There certainly seemed to be a lot of friction between that wizard and Jean, didn't there? I wonder why..." Harry said introspectively.

"Jean seemed to be an authority figure, didn't he? Maybe he's got a more powerful role in their little organisation and Mr. Short-temper is jealous - who knows?" Hermione replied testily. Harry could tell by her tone that she cared very little for any of the members of the Order of the Phoenix.

Harry cast a sly sideways glance at Hermione and found that she was chewing her lower lip. However, it was not the sort of biting of her lip that signified she was holding something back. Harry had memorised her expressions so well that he could immediately see that it was more of an absent-minded action, for her preoccupied expression said plainly that she was trying to work something out. So Harry waited patiently, watching her mutely, for her to figure out whatever it was that she was puzzling over.

"The other wizard - he did say something about Jean having worked for the Ministry, didn't he? That isn't just me imagining things is it?" she asked him at length, looking both confused and thoughtful.

"Yeah - that's right. The shorter bloke did mention something about the Ministry - but what was it..." Harry trailed off trying to remember what it was that had passed in the conversation back in the abbey. "Ah - that was it, he said 'if I didn't know better I'd say you still believed yourself to be working for the Ministry...' Why do you want to know?"

Hermione no longer appeared bemused, however, her mien did retain its contemplative countenance. "Well, the look on Jean's face as he said that -well, it was more of a flicker of a look that was gone almost straight away - was, I don't know, almost on edge. Like maybe he's not telling them everything about whatever it was he used to do for the Ministry..."

"What are you saying? That he is still working for the Ministry? Or that he isn't quite the fully-fledged co-member of the Order of the Phoenix that they think he is?" Harry asked, feeling somewhat mystified as he turned to Hermione expectantly.

Her brow was furrowed in thought once more as she replied, "That's just it - I can't quite be sure. All I do know is that he is as complicated to us as we are to him."

By this time the woods were beginning to thin and Harry found that the path they were on was going up a steady hill. As the gradient was quite steep, talking was deferred as both he and Hermione had to save their breath for the gruelling climb up the hillside.

After a while the line of trees halted abruptly, with about three or four metres of tall but withering bracken just beyond it. Then at the other side of the strip of undergrowth was a dry stone wall with a style set into it. Harry and Hermione headed for this style and once over it they found themselves stood on a narrow grass embankment next to a narrow and winding road.

Here the ground levelled out for possibly a hundred yards or so before rising upward again but at a more gradual gradient. The land on the other side of the road was enclosed by yet more dry stone walls and Harry could see another style - this time in the opposite wall - about thirty yards to their left.

"So where are we going to make for? Along the road or over that wall?" Harry asked Hermione, once again turning to check behind them but seeing nothing save the shady woods they had just come through.

Hermione peered along the line of the road in both directions for as far as she could see, then turned her eyes upon the hill ahead of them. It was apparent to Harry that she was weighing up which would be the best route for them to follow.

"Not sure," she said after a brief time of reflection. "The road is likely to lead somewhere so there's a chance that we may come across a house where we can seek help, but then again it is very open. If anyone tries to follow us it won't take much effort or exertion on their part because we'll be in clear view with no hope of cover. However, we have no idea where going up the hill will lead - it could just go to more uninhabited land therefore meaning we'd do better to go along the road. What do you reckon?"

Harry too glanced up and down the road. As far as he could see it was a quiet country lane that would probably not have any vehicles travelling along it at this hour, but then again he could see that Hermione was right. There was no cover to be had except for the perimeter walls but they were too high and precarious to climb unless by style. However, Harry couldn't see any other styles besides the ones they were near to now.

"What's our most pressing concern?" Harry asked her thoughtfully.

There was a pause before Hermione replied, in which she seemed to be considering her answer carefully, "I'd say to not get caught."

"My sentiments exactly," Harry returned gravely. "If it turns out that they do come searching for us up here, which way is it that they'll think we'll go? Road or hill?"

"Road," Hermione answered him quietly. She then turned to look apprehensively up the hill, "then we'd better carry on up, hadn't we?"

Harry nodded mutely. Without further hesitation the pair set off again, crossing the road silently except for the soft pattering of their trainers on the tarmac. They then clambered carefully over the style and picked their way over the rock-strewn grass, each lost in their own thoughts.

"I wonder what happened to Snape," Hermione said after a while. "I mean, after he Disapparated we didn't see him again because he wasn't with Jean, Fleur and the two others when they returned."

"Beats me," Harry replied, shrugging. "Dumbledore will be mad at him though, won't he? For helping Jean to get us away from Hogwarts, I mean."

"Yeah - but I bet you he worms his way out of trouble. He'll probably tell Dumbledore that he was trying to stop them or something..." she said bitterly, a look of disgust on her face.

The mention of Snape had reminded Harry of his fifth vision. As this was something he was not overly keen on thinking about, he cast about quickly for something to distract him. The first thing that came to mind was something Dumbledore had said a couple of days ago and it had the desired effect for it diverted his attention completely.

"Hermione," said Harry suddenly.

"Yes?" Hermione replied warily for she had immediately detected from his tone that he was about to ask her something.

"You know the other night, when the spell reached full-potency in me because you mixed our blood." Harry paused to look quizzically at Hermione. At an apprehensive nod on her part he continued, "Well, Dumbledore said that you'd nearly killed me by what you did - what did he mean?"

Hermione was exceptionally quiet for a moment, evidently thinking carefully about how to reply. "Well, when he said that we all believed the spell was Avada Kedavra, didn't we? And seeing as it reached full-potency sooner because of me he didn't know if the spell was going to kill you or not."

"Oh," Harry responded. His curiosity pacified until he caught sight of the way she was biting her lip at the same time as looking strained. "Is that all he meant when he said that?"

Hermione caught Harry's eye and had been about to attempt to reply cheerfully that it had been, but found herself unable to. So instead she lowered her gaze and shook her head miserably.

"So, what else did he mean?" Harry prompted in a quiet and tensely expectant voice.

Hermione once more peered despairingly at him but did not give him the answer he had expected her to. After all the instances lately that had resulted in her telling him she was unable to answer his questions, Harry was very much surprised to find that she was going to give him an answer - or at least part of one - to his latest entreaty for information.

"I'm not meant to tell you any of this - the only reason Dumbledore informed me was so that I knew the full consequences of my actions and also so that I could do my best to steer clear of trouble. However, I'm going to tell you this because I think it's time you got some answers.

"Well, what it all comes down to is your blood. There is so much more to you than anyone else I've ever known, and you don't even know half of it yourself. You are so deep and complicated that I sometimes just find myself out of my depth. But the thing is, there's more than just blood running through your veins; there's -"

"My mother's protection?" Harry cut in without thinking.

"Yes - but more even than that. You have another protection; one that You-Know-Who doesn't know about, but the thing is it only became a proper protection when he took your blood at the end of the Triwizard Tournament. The very fact that he shares your blood is what keeps you safe, but the protection can only be used once and the problem is, it's now in me too.

"So when Dumbledore said that I had nearly killed you it became that I could nearly kill you because if I'm not careful of what I do and use your protection by mistake, you'll no longer be safe; You-Know-Who would be able to kill you."

"But what is this protection?" Harry inquired in awe, staring at Hermione with rapt concentration. "I don't really understand though, because Voldemort was able to harm me after he'd taken my blood - so how can there be a protection?"

"He can touch your skin now without hurting himself and he can harm you because those things are superficial in comparison with what the protection does. The protection gives you one chance, and one chance only, to defy death."

Harry stared at Hermione in stunned disbelief and stopped walking. She likewise halted, surveying him searchingly. When Harry had got over the shock enough to speak he said, "But why? How? How did it get in me in the first place?"

Hermione let out a small sigh before replying simply, "Your compassion."

"What do you mean?" he asked blankly.

"Harry, I don't have all the answers. All I know is that this protection involves four of us and that you did something noble which was therefore rewarded by a 'link' or something, which is the foundation of this protection. The thing is, You-Know-Who gave you the protection in a way because until he took your blood there was just this 'link' but it was entirely unrelated to him."

"Who's the fourth person? You mentioned that this involved four of us; you, me, Voldemort and someone else," Harry said in some confusion.

Hermione shook her head. "Dumbledore didn't tell me everything - just enough to get the general idea."

The two of them continued to stand on the coarse grass, half way up the hillside, looking at each other intently. They then decided that it would in actual fact be best for them to keep moving on upward so they set off once again.

Harry's head was reeling with all this new information. Voldemort had unwittingly provided him with a protection? It couldn't be true - there must be some mistake. How could he be safe - albeit safe only once - from Voldemort, when Voldemort could harm him. It just didn't make sense. What had he done to warrant a 'link', as Hermione put it?

Then Harry remembered something. The scene came back to him with a sudden jolt; he saw that flicker of triumph in Dumbledore's face all those years ago, just after he had told Dumbledore about Voldemort taking his blood... So Dumbledore had been triumphant after all; many a time afterwards Harry tried to dismiss the look he had seen, thinking that he must have imagined it. But now he knew he hadn't.

So what was it that he, Harry, had done? He again struggled to remember some act of compassion would have been the cause, but he was unable to find it. Instead, he tried to work out who the fourth person in the equation could be. But all the people he considered were the wrong ones... Had he only thought about the most unlikely person and combined this with Hermione's clue about compassion, Harry would have had little trouble in seeing the answer. As it was, his mind was already buzzing with too many other worries and questions and riddles that prevented him from thinking on the matter clearly.

By this time, Harry and Hermione had just about reached the summit of the hill they were ascending. As they arrived on the Plato at the top, they were startled to find that the desolate moor side up there was not deserted. There was someone already at the top; someone who had evidently been waiting impatiently for them to arrive.

Harry's mouth fell open in surprise as he surveyed the unexpected but exceptionally welcome figure of Camellia. Beside him, Hermione jumped a little in shock and let out a barely audible gasp as she realised that it was an angel she was looking at.

Catching sight of the very two people she had been watching out for, Camellia darted forward, toward the still-surprised pair.

"What are you doing here?" Harry blurted out, his voice revealing how exceptionally pleased and relieved he was to see her.

"No time to explain that now - what took you so long to get here?" she replied impatiently. It was only then that Harry noticed how on edge she was as she cast her eyes around nervously, as though at any moment expecting to see something.

"Err," Harry replied blankly. He did not really understand how she could say they had taken such a long time to arrive when the meeting was unexpected - or at least it was to them. Had they arranged to meet at a prearranged time then Harry felt that she would have had some justification in being impatient, but as it was he did not fully appreciate what was going on.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked curiously, looking mildly concerned by the angel's jittery behaviour.

Camellia turned to look at Hermione properly and her face broke into its first true smile of that evening while she seemed to regain her composure somewhat.

"Are you Hermione?" she asked warmly.

Hermione nodded and Harry observed that she had turned suddenly shy. This vaguely amused him for he had never seen her go shy before.

"My name is Camellia; I suppose Harry has told you about me?" the angel asked politely, then turned to fix Harry with a warm, sisterly smile.

Hermione nodded a second time and, having surveyed Harry for a moment, Camellia stepped forward and gave him a caring hug, a cross somewhere between the motherly hug of an older sister and the adoring embrace of a little sister who looked up to him with marked respect. Harry returned the hug, feeling strangely happy at the same time a deprived. Perhaps the feelings this angel stirred in him were the brotherly affections he had neither felt nor been able to bestow for the simple reason that he had no sibling to look out for.

Camellia then drew back from him and likewise hugged Hermione with the same sisterly cordiality. When the two of them broke apart, Harry peered at Camellia quizzically and inquired, "How did you know we were here?"

She smiled sardonically at him before replying, "Having pronounced you to be The Defender, do you really think I'm going to trust you entirely to your own devices? I keep an eye on you every now and then to ensure that you don't land yourself into any trouble that you can't get yourself back out of. And it just so happened that when I checked up on you tonight, it was to find you both racing through the Forbidden Forest! So since then I have been trailing you at a suitable distance and now is the first proper opportunity I have been granted for meeting with you."

Harry raised his eyebrows at the faintly glowing lady, "If you've been following us the whole time, then why didn't you appear before now?"

"I told you, this is the first proper opportunity." Seeing him continue to look questioningly at her, she felt obliged to say something further, "Look, I'll explain all that fully once we get back to Hogwarts - we are not safe here."

"Alright, but what do you have to fear? The members of the Order of the Phoenix cannot harm you -" Harry began to say, felling particularly perplexed, but was unable to finish for Camellia interrupted him in a fearful voice.

"It is not the Order of the Phoenix I shrink from."

"Then what?" Harry said, nonplussed. However, before Camellia could answer him the beginnings of an intense wave of cold swept over Harry without him appreciating what it meant. He shuddered, but at first believed it to be simply that Hermione's warming charm had worn off. That was until he saw them; a seething mass of black clad Dementors, flanked by men in white masks and black robes.

Harry began to hear his mother's screams inside his head, but fought to remain standing if not for his own sake then for Hermione's as she sank into him for support, on the brink of fainting.

Camellia did not appear to have been affected by the Dementors at present, but the expression on her face told Harry that she was deeply afraid of them. Then Harry suddenly understood why. As an angel she was simply condensed soul, spirit and vapour. So while the Death Eaters could not harm her with curses or hexes, the Dementors could destroy her easily. She was to them like a rich banquet and it was only the promise from their master that they should have any opposing souls once he had got the person he sought that kept them from surging forward now.

At first, Harry did not understand why Camellia didn't just do whatever it was she was intending to do to get them away from that hilltop. However, after a moment of searching surveying he could perceive that she appeared to be conserving and collecting up all of her energy.

However, before she had finished doing so one of the masked Death Eaters stepped forward.

"Hand over the boy and girl, angel, and you will not be harmed. Refuse to do as I command and I will allow the Dementors a free-reign. What will you do?" he snapped curtly in a glossy voice. Harry felt a hot, sick swoop of anger within him as he instantly recognised the voice as Snape's.

The advantage of this sudden burst of anger was that it helped to fight off the biting cold grip the Dementors had inside him. The screaming diminished, but he was still weak and shaky.

There was a tense, electrified pause in which everyone awaited the response that the angel would make. However, the minutes slipped past and the Death Eaters began to grow impatient. Camellia was desperately trying to accumulate sufficient strength to allow her to transport two living people over the distance of a couple of hundred miles, when normally the method of transportation she proposed to use was only used on spirit-beings. The progress was painfully slow and Harry began to fear that the Death Eaters would lose all patience and set the Dementors on them before she was ready.

However, help soon arrived from a most unlikely source. There was a ripple in the air on Snape's left side and with a small 'pop' another figure arrived.

Beads of a sinister cold sweat broke out on Harry's forehead as he felt a thrill of horror at the recognition of the profile as being Voldemort's.

"I'll handle this from here, Severus," he pronounced in a cool, lazy voice. Snape acknowledged his words with a small bow and stepped back seemingly unconcernedly between the two Dementors.

Harry briefly wondered how Snape could bear to stand so close to the Dementors when he felt sick and weak because of their presence though they were at least fifty feet away from him. However, Harry did not have long to ponder over this for something happened just at that moment to distract his attention completely.

While Camellia had been collecting up her energy she had closed her eyes as a mark of her concentration. But when the cold voice that was Voldemort's had spoken, she opened her eyes and let out a small startled cry. Upon perceiving her exclamation, Voldemort spun around with narrowed eyes. However, as soon as his eyes fell upon the angel, they widened in absolute astonishment. He froze, and stared at Camellia in disbelief.

Harry looked bemusedly from the Dark Lord to Camellia and found that she was staring at Voldemort with an expression that matched his sheer disbelief, but was also unmistakably wretched and grieved.

"Tom?"