Harry Potter and the Sect of the Serpent

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: Visions

It was dark but for a blue-white light softly glowing around the edges of the rooms, making everything look silvery and ghost-like. Harry walked softly from the foyer at Grimmauld Place and ascended the dark staircase. The candles were lit in their sconces, but they, too, gave off an eerie silvery light rather than their normal, warm glow.

As he reached the top of the stairs, he turned abruptly, and headed for the room he shared with Ron on the second floor. The door swung open easily and silently at his touch, but Harry paused as he realized someone was already in the room.

The figure had his back to Harry and was kneeling by one of the four-poster beds, hunched over a bundle lying on top of the duvet. He gave off a different quality of light than the rest of the room had done, warmer and more golden. He was wearing dark, midnight blue robes over denims and black leather boots, and his thick black hair hung down past his shoulders, fringe obscuring his face. He leaned forward and a strange sound rent the silence.

"Pbbbbbthhhhhhhh!"

The figure straightened, and Harry realized with a shock that it was Sirius, though not Sirius as Harry had ever known him. He was young, his face smooth and free of the deep lines and hollows that twelve years of pain had wrought; his eyes sparkled and his lips quirked upwards at the edges in a quintessentially Sirius smile.

"That's right, you little bugger!! I'm gonna get you!"

Harry moved quickly into the room, opening his mouth to speak, but as he approached, he saw what was in the bundle on the bed, and the words froze, half formed, in his mouth.

Lying atop the coverlet, squirming and wriggling, was the object of Sirius' attention. It was a baby boy, dressed in a pale green tee shirt several sizes too large, with a cartoon broomstick embroidered on the front. The infant was maybe two or three months old, with enormous green eyes that followed Sirius' every movement and an absurd quantity of dark messy hair.

"Oh you want more, do ya?" Sirius teased. He raised the baby's shirt, bent over and blew another enormous raspberry on the boy's stomach. The baby opened his mouth in a huge toothless smile and then made an odd, uncertain sort of sound. Sirius sat up at once and studied him, cocking his head to one side. Harry could almost picture Snuffles' big black ears perking up.

"What was that?" he said curiously, bending towards the baby once again. The little boy squealed delightedly, grasping a lock of Sirius' long hair in his tiny fist, and then gurgled again in what was very clearly an attempt to laugh.

"Well bugger me," Sirius whispered, studying the child. He bent forward and blew another wet raspberry on the soft infant tummy. The baby opened his mouth wide, green eyes shining.

Then laughter exploded from the little boy's mouth like a golden bubble. Sirius and Harry both watched it, transfixed, as it rose several feet into the air and hovered.

"James!" Sirius shouted. "Lily! Come qui--"

The golden bubble burst suddenly, and became a thousand tiny specks of light which danced apart and flew all about the room. The infant watched them with delight and continued to laugh. One of the specks flew right up to Harry; it was the tiniest person he'd ever seen.

"He laughed!" Sirius cried, an impish grin breaking across his face as the last of the golden specks disappeared into the cracks and shadows of the room. "I made Harry laugh!" He was staring across the room, and Harry followed his gaze eagerly, hoping for a glimpse of his mum and dad. The room was empty. Sirius' face suddenly became mock sober.

"Well that's because, Prongs old man, I am funny. I am the epitome of hilarity and mirth. You, on the other hand, have become a Responsible Father who is unfunny in every conceivable way -- not a single funny bone in your completely humorless body. You are a twit sans wit, a bloody-- oops!" He glanced a few feet to the left, his expression contrite. Then he grinned.

"Eh, he can't understand a word I'm saying anyway, can you, yeh little nipper?" He turned back to the infant Harry and started tickling him again.

"Yeah, yeah. We're fine," he said dismissively, obviously still talking to the invisible Lily and James. Harry's heart was beginning to beat rather painfully. "I think I can look after my own godson for ten minutes' time!"

James must have made some sort of sarcastic remark because Sirius threw a rather black look over his shoulder before scooping the baby up into his arms. He lay back across the bed, feet dangling towards the floor and placed the infant Harry on his stomach. The baby raised himself up slightly on his arms to watch Sirius and laughed again.

"That's right, mate," Sirius chortled, one large hand covering the baby's tiny back. "You'll always have your uncle Sirius to laugh at." Without warning, Sirius glanced over and looked the older Harry directly in the eye.

With a jolt, Harry woke up.

A stream of white light was pouring through a gap in the curtains around his bed. He stared at it for a moment, watching motes of dust dancing in the light like the tiny specks of laughter from his dream. Suddenly, however, it occurred to him that there was far too much light. He squinted at it for a moment before sitting bolt upright and throwing open the curtains. The sun was blazing through the dormitory window. He had overslept.

"Bollocks!" he shouted. Ron snorted loudly and groaned; the rest of the sixth year boys were already dressed and gone. In a panic of lateness, Harry threw on his clothes haphazardly, grabbed his satchel and raced out of the room. It was Friday, his sleepy brain managed to tell him, and he was late for his Occlumency lesson.

Harry raced down the stairs and through the corridors until he arrived, panting, at Professor Lindell's office door. He raised his fist to knock, but the door swung away from him. Professor Lindell stood in the doorway looking cross.

"You're late, Mr. Potter," she said, peering at him over the tops of her oval glasses. Harry mumbled a breathless apology as he moved past her into the office.

"Have you been practicing?" she asked, moving around behind her battered and ancient wooden desk.

"Mmm hmm..." Harry said, averting his eyes as he dug through his satchel, well aware of the irony of trying to lie to his Legilimency teacher.

"Well, let's see about that," she said briskly, clearing a few rolls of parchment off of her desk. "We'll start with Legilimency, whenever you're ready."

Harry nodded and drew his wand. Professor Lindell had taught him the incantation and the wand movement, but, as she had so often told them in her Defence lectures, it was the intent which really put the power behind the Legilimency spell. Harry's intent, it seemed, was not quite powerful enough. At first, he had not been able to make anything happen at all; Professor Lindell's natural tendency, as a trained Occlumens, to block her mind made basic Legilimency very difficult. Eventually, however, he had learned ways to wiggle around the mental barriers she retained even when she was trying to relax. He had, so far, only succeeded in seeing a few flashes of random memory before she forced him out again. It was an exhausting process.

Harry took a deep breath as he pointed his wand at Professor Lindell's head and concentrated on a small mole between her eyebrows. "Legilimens!" he said firmly. At first, as before, nothing happened, but slowly he began to feel out the cracks he knew were there. It was a very strange sensation, almost like peeling a hard boiled egg.

And then he was in. It usually happened like that, in all of an instant. Images were flashing at him randomly, and he knew he had only a few moments before Professor Lindell would push him out, so he began to concentrate on the memories he had weeks ago decided to seek out.

An old house. Someone pouring tea. A high heeled shoe. A laughing face. A flash of red hair in a crowd of kids. Harry pressed. A girl with long red hair and sparkling green eyes sitting at a table with other girls and laughing about-- Nothing.

Harry opened his eyes. Professor Lindell was watching him from across the desk.

"That was... better," she said slowly. She rubbed her index finger across the bridge of her nose and sighed.

"I know what you're looking for," she said in a different tone.

Harry opened his mouth and then closed it again. "What do you mean?" he managed at last. She regarded him with those cold grey-blue eyes of hers.

"I know what you're looking for, Mr. Potter," she repeated, "but I'm afraid I haven't much to give. I didn't know her that well."

Harry dropped his eyes to his lap and studied the back of his right hand, wrapped around his wand. He watched the tendons under his skin as he flexed and released.

"I didn't know her at all," he said softly. He glanced up and caught her studying him. "I'm sorry," he said in a firmer voice. "It's just, I've learned a lot about my dad from Re-- Professor Lupin and... and other people, but I still don't know much about her. I just wanted to..."

"That's all right," Professor Lindell replied. "Remus Lupin was very good friends with your parents, wasn't he? I suppose he would have sought you out while he was teaching here." Harry didn't reply. "I have all his notes," she continued absently. "He certainly seems to have been the most competent of your string of Defense teachers." She paused for a moment. "Do you know why he left?"

"He..." Harry began. "Health problems," he said quickly, hoping that Professor Lindell would not ask him to elaborate. She didn't. "Did you, er... know each other? At school, I mean?"

Professor Lindell raised an eyebrow at him. "I knew of him," she replied. "Actually, everyone knew of him because he ran round with James Potter and his crowd, and everyone knew them," she said thoughtfully. "He was a prefect, and he was friends with Lily, who was friends with my sister, Penny. But I wasn't particularly friendly with any of them. I was much younger."

Harry nodded, not sure what to say.

"Are you ready to continue?" she asked him, drawing her own wand. Harry braced himself. "Legilimens."

Harry pictured the Centre in his mind and a very tight ball of clouds at its center. He was getting much better at Occlumency now that he didn't have to worry about what he might be forced to see. He and Professor Lindell had come to a sort of agreement after the unfortunate post-Snape lesson, that they would keep confidential whatever one of them might see of the other's mind.

Suddenly, Harry had the peeling egg sensation again, only he felt it from the inside, and memories were flickering through his mind. Remus was handing him a piece of chocolate on the train. Remus was helping him up off the floor after a particularly nasty session with the boggart. Remus was drinking tea in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place. Remus was standing out on the grounds, near the willow, and he was--

"NO!" Harry shouted out loud. He felt a sharp pain in his knee and in his head at the same time. Everything was dark. It took him a moment to realize that was because he had his eyes closed.

"Mr. Potter!"

When he opened them, he was kneeling on the floor. Apparently, he'd fallen out of his chair and hit his head on the desk on the way down.

"Ow," he muttered, a bit belatedly.

"Are you all right?" Professor Lindell grabbed his arm and helped him back into his chair.

"I think so," he said softly. He hadn't reacted that strongly to Legilimency in a long time -- not since last year, actually. It had been the memory, he realized. He hadn't wanted Lindell to see the night he'd watched Remus change.

Professor Lindell sunk down into the other leather wingback and stared at him avidly. Her glasses were slightly askew and her hair was coming down in wisps around her face.

"Did I hex you?" he asked, rubbing his head.

"Don't worry about that," she said briskly, which obviously meant that he had. He frowned at her, and she arched an eyebrow at him. "You missed."

"Sorry," Harry groaned. "I get a little carried away sometimes."

The corners of Professor Lindell's mouth twitched. "No wonder Professor Snape didn't want to teach you any more."

Harry huffed. "Shall we go again?" he asked, sitting up straighter.

Professor Lindell held a hand up. "Just rest for a minute," she said, standing. She went around behind her desk and began gathering together things to make tea. "Was that Professor Lupin?" she asked absently as she started the kettle boiling with her wand. Harry nodded when she glanced sideways at him.

"I imagine he was on both our minds because we were talking about him," she said, passing Harry a plain white china teacup. He accepted it, took a sip, and thought briefly that Remus would probably like Professor Lindell, if only for her taste in tea. "You and he know one another outside of school, don't you?" she asked.

"We're friends," Harry said impulsively. She glanced at him again. He knew it sounded rather odd that a man in his thirties should be friends with a sixteen year old boy, but Professor Lindell was good at not judging things. Or, if she did, she was good at not saying anything about it.

"What's that you've got there?" Professor Lindell asked him suddenly, gesturing to his shirt. Harry looked down; his school tie was loose about his neck and he hadn't done up the top button of his shirt. Somehow, perhaps when he'd fallen, his amulet had fallen out and now hung framed against the red and gold of his tie. He ran his finger over the raised markings on it.

"Famly heirloom," he mumbled, not looking up. "It was my dad's. Remus gave it to me."

"May I see it?" Lindell asked. Harry glanced up at her. He was loath to part with it, even for a moment, but seeing a peculiar glint in her eyes, he acquiesced, careful not to upset his glasses as he drew the chain up over his head. Professor Lindell took the amulet from him reverently and adjusted her glasses to peer at it closely over the tops of them.

"Did Professor Lupin explain to you what it is?" she asked him.

Harry frowned. "It's just an amulet my dad found in a second hand shop."

"Actually, it's a good deal more than that," Professor Lindell replied, turning the amulet over in her hands. "This is a speliquary."

"A what?"

Professor Lindell glanced up at him over her glasses and raised an eyebrow. "An artifact, Mr. Potter, created for the purpose of storing spells, or in this case, a single spell; it doesn't seem large enough to hold more than one."

Harry frowned. Remus had mentioned something about a charm, but he had said that they had never been able to make it work. "What kind of spell?" he asked curiously.

"It could be almost anything," Lindell replied, turning one of the little rings with the tip of her finger. "Most charms can be stored to be triggered for use at another time if one has the proper receptacle. This one..." she frowned at the amulet. "This one seems to be locked."

"Locked?" Harry repeated, dumbly.

"Mmm..." Professor Lindell agreed. She sniffed loudly and passed the amulet back to him. "It looks like it's a puzzle," she said simply. "Solve the puzzle and you unlock the spell. However, if it hasn't shown any magical properties in all this time, I would assume that it is empty. The spell must have been used up."

Harry took the amulet back and quickly placed the chain once more around his neck. He looked down at the little red stone in the center before tucking it neatly back into the collar of his shirt.

"Well," Professor Lindell said briskly. "I think that should be all for today, Mr. Potter. I want you to keep practicing..." Harry suppressed a groan. "And don't bother telling me that you can't. You live with an entire house full of people; surely one of them will assent to help you."

On his way down to the Great Hall for lunch, Harry pondered how exactly one asked for help practicing Legilimency. Excuse me, but I was wondering, would you mind terribly if I poked about in your brain a bit? I just need to have a look at all of your most private memories. It's for my homework, you see...

His stomach growled noisily as the warm smells of bangers and mash floated to meet him. He turned instinctively towards the Gryffindor table where Ron and Hermione were already sitting, when something caught his eye.

Gwyn was standing up at the Ravenclaw table, waving her arms frantically at him. Harry swerved and made a bee line for her. Then he noticed that Justin was sitting next to Padma and looking rather uncomfortable.

"What's up?" he asked.

Gwyn grinned and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, thoroughly amused by Harry's embarrassment. "Well, I just thought we all ought to eat lunch together! I mean, we're kind of a team now, right? The Anti-Snape Defense League -- or something. But we only ever do boring stuff like study..." Padma rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. Justin looked like he might be choking on one of his sausages.

"Erm, that's a nice idea," Harry said uncertainly, "but won't we get into trouble sitting over here?"

"That's what I said," Justin grumbled. He glanced about the hall shiftily as though he was ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble.

Padma shook her head. "We looked it up," she said simply. "It's traditional for Hogwarts students to eat with their housemates, but it's not a rule."

"And if it's not a rule," Gwyn added, pulling Harry down onto the bench next to her, "then we can't get in trouble for it, can we?"

"S'pose not," Harry agreed, still a little confused, but pleasantly so. A plate appeared in front of him and he obligingly began serving himself. He wondered idly if Ravenclaw food would taste different than Gryffindor food.

"Er..." Justin said in an unhappy whisper. "I think people are staring." Gwyn immediately started glaring around the room indiscriminately.

"They're just not used to seeing people from different houses mingling like this," Padma said primly, "but I think it's a grand idea. We shouldn't be so divided all the time. It's like the sorting hat said; it makes us weaker. I think we're setting a very good example." Justin nodded, but Harry thought he looked as though he didn't really want to be an example -- good or otherwise.

"You should bring that up with Hermione next time," Harry said.

"Next time?" Padma looked confused.

Harry grinned innocently. "Course! Next time we have lunch together and you lot all come round to Gryffindor table!" Padma's look of smug superiority began to slide off her face.

"Hallo Harry," someone said vaguely. Harry looked up as Luna dropped down onto the seat next to him. "What are you doing here?"

"Having lunch, it seems," Harry said with a grin.

Luna cocked her head to one side as she stared at him a bit blankly."But won't Ron mind?"

Harry frowned. "Mind?" He twisted around in his seat and looked back over his shoulder towards the Gryffindor table. Ron was staring at him. Glowering at him, actually, but as soon as he saw Harry turn around, he ducked his head and started studying his lunch intently. Hermione, who had her back to Harry, turned in her seat. She smiled slightly and gave a little wave. Harry waved back.

"Oh, who cares what he thinks?" Gwyn huffed. "What's his problem, anyway? He's been downright rude lately. Did you see the way he was acting in Herbology last class? He practically threw that tray of Monkswood seeds at me when I asked him to pass them."

"Yeah," Harry said, turning back to his lunch with one final glance at Ron. "He's been in a right mood for weeks. At first I thought it was to do with the Quidditch match, but now..."

"I thought he did very well," Luna said. She was openly staring over her shoulder at Ron as she nibbled delicately on a cooked carrot from the end of her fork.

"Oy! Heads up!" Justin hissed suddenly. "Malfoy at three o'clock!" They all turned to look, except for Luna, who was still watching Ron. Malfoy saw them and hesitated, a look of confusion passing over his face. Gwyn gave him a huge smile and waved. Unfortunately, she only used one finger. Malfoy's eyes narrowed and he made a quick change in direction, heading for the other end of the hall.

Padma was watching Malfoy, her expression troubled. Harry caught her eye and she sighed slightly. "I don't like it," she said quietly. "He's been over here two or three times a week."

"Doing what?" Harry demanded.

Padma shrugged. "Just making snide comments, really, but it's the way he says them more than what he says."

"And he's always lurking about after lessons like he's waiting for her," Justin added. "Bad form, all 'round."

"He's just a blowhard with a stupid crush," Gwyn said vehemently. "All bark and no bite. Nothing I can't handle." She began sawing her sausages with a bit more fervor than was probably necessary, and Harry glanced across the table at Justin and Padma, who shared his worried expression.

"I think Ron's upset," Luna said suddenly. They all turned to look at her. She gazed around at each of them in turn. "I'm going to go cheer him up."

Harry snorted. "Good luck with that," he said, but Luna didn't seem to hear him. She gathered up her plate and headed for the Gryffindor table.

Gwyn giggled. "I think someone's got a crush on our friend Ron," she said, waggling her eyebrows suggestively. Justin looked amused, and Padma smiled slightly.

"You think so?" Harry frowned, trying to look over his shoulder unobtrusively.

"Where have you been living, under a rock?" Padma snorted. "Luna's fancied Ron since last year!" Harry stared at her dumbly and she giggled. "Why do you think she was always wearing that ridiculous hat and cheering for Gryffindor?"

"Huh," Harry said, furrowing his brow. "D'you think I should tell Ron?" Padma and Gwyn burst into giggles.

"Nah," Gwyn said through her laughter. "I think it's better if you let him figure it out on his own."

Harry rolled his eyes. "That could take ages..." For some reason, this made Gwyn and Padma laugh all the more.

"No way!" Ron said vehemently as they walked towards the Room of Requirement later that night. "No offense Harry, but I saw the way you used to look when you came back from Occlumency lessons with Snape, and I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, maybe Malfoy."

Harry scowled. If his own best mate didn't trust him to, he doubted that anyone else would want him poking about in their head. Then again, he and Ron had been less than friendly lately, and Harry's change of scenery at lunch hadn't helped anything. Maybe his refusal had something to do with that.

Harry glanced over at Hermione, who was judiciously avoiding his gaze, clearly hoping not to be asked. He scowled some more.

The Room of Requirement was just as it always was for them. Harry had grown so accustomed to the bookshelves and cushions and dark detectors, he sometimes found himself forgetting that it could be anything else. He glanced over at the wall where the large Foe Glass hung. A shadowy figure was lurking just out of sight, features blurred by the grey mist that normally filled the mirror. It gave Harry pause, but he supposed he didn't have to worry until he saw the whites of the eyes, or so he'd been told.

One by one the DA members started filling the room. They'd begun dueling in earnest now, putting their jinxes, hexes, and blocking spells to good use. More than a few of them habitually left sporting bruises and sprains, but no one complained.

"I've been thinking," Hermione said as she began setting out the cushions, "maybe we ought to learn a few healing spells as well; just basic first aid. It might come in handy."

Harry nodded as he watched Ron, who was whipping his wand out of his pocket again and again, practicing to outdraw an attacker. "But who are we going to get to teach us?" Harry asked. "I mean, I don't know any healing spells. Do you?"

Hermione shook her head. "They're different magic than we usually learn around here, but I'm sure I could find a few good books..." She wandered over to the bookshelf and started examining the titles.

The door opened and Ron whirled around, drawing his wand fiercely just as Neville walked into the room. Neville jumped.

"Ha!" Ron laughed triumphantly. "Sorry, mate. Just practicing, you know. Wanna have a go?" Neville recovered himself and shook his head vaguely as he bypassed Ron to go speak to Harry. Ron frowned.

"I think the new people are all caught up," he said breathlessly. "I mean, we haven't done Patronuses yet, but I thought you would probably review those with everybody later."

"You're already caught up?" Harry asked, surprised. Neville smiled broadly and nodded.

"We've been working really hard," he said proudly. "Some of them are getting awfully good. Phoebe's got an Expelliarmus that'll knock your socks off." He grinned. "Literally." Ron wandered towards them.

"Isn't she that Slytherin?" he asked.

"Yeah, why?"

Ron shrugged. "I dunno. I just don't think it's a very good idea to be teaching Slytherin's how to duel, that's all."

Neville frowned. "She's not like Malfoy and his lot, and neither is Terrance," he said, flushing slightly. "I think they've got as much right to learn how to defend themselves as any of us, right Harry?" Harry agreed. Ron scowled.

As soon as everyone had arrived, Harry paired them up and began making his way around between the pairs, correcting people now and then and observing how they were working together. He felt a mounting sense of pride as he watched them.

Suddenly, a loud crash burst out over the sounds of the duels going on around him. Harry whirled towards the noise, his wand at the ready. Several other people followed his lead until there were more than half a dozen wands pointing at the figure in the open doorway.

"Gwyn!" Harry exclaimed, surprised to see her. "What are you doing here? Did you come to--" He took a few steps towards her and realized almost immediately that something wasn't right. Her eyes were wide and red, her hair tousled and windblown, and her robes half open. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Gwyn took a step backwards towards the open door. She was staring around at the room full of people, several of whom were still energetically cursing one another. She threw a wide-eyed glance at Harry, and opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. She paused, putting her hand to her throat.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked again, worry clouding his thoughts.

Gwyn opened her mouth again, but still, no sound came out.

"What's she doing here?" Ron demanded, coming up behind Harry. "How did you know where we were? Harry, did you tell her about the Room--"

"Shut up, Ron," Harry barked. He moved towards Gwyn again and reached for her hand, but she pulled away from him, continuing to point at her throat. "Tell me what's wrong!" he pleaded softly, aware that the entire club was now staring. Padma and Justin pushed to the front of the crowd.

"I don't think she can, Harry," Hermione said suddenly. She pointed her wand at Gwyn. "Finite Incantatem." Gwyn coughed slightly.

"Thanks," she said. Her voice was hoarse and strained, as though she'd been yelling. She glanced around at the many faces that were now turned towards her. "I-- I'm sorry. I didn't know anyone would be here. I'd better..." She turned and started out of the room.

"Hang on!" Harry said, catching her arm gently. She flinched at his touch and he frowned in concern. "What are you doing here? Who hexed you?"

"I just... I didn't..." She took a deep breath to steady herself. "I was coming to practice. I didn't know you would be in here."

"Practice?" Ron repeated, an ugly scowl on his face.

"Ron, shush!" Hermione hissed.

"Where's your violin, then?" Harry asked gently, ignoring Ron as best he could. Gwyn stared at him blankly.

"What did you do to your face?" Justin asked, his voice tinged with concern. Gwyn put her hand up to her cheek quickly, but not before Harry saw a crescent of red marks there. She quickly turned her head away.

"Answer the questions!" Ron yelled. "I want to know what the bloody hell you're doing here! You're just using our room that we found..." Ron turned to Harry, his face beginning to turn an ugly shade of red. "What do you do, come here to snog?"

"Shut UP, Ron!" Harry yelled, rounding on him. Gwyn whirled around and started out the door again. Harry made to follow her.

"Neville! Take over! Get everybody back to work!" Harry caught a glimpse of Neville's wide eyed terror and Ron's red faced fury before he dashed out the door.

"Wait a minute!" he called, catching Gwyn again. "Tell me what's going on!"

"I just... Accident. Really..." She stared up at him, and Harry realized that she looked like she was about to cry. It threw him; he'd never seen her this upset before. "I'm not going to discuss it, Harry. I just want to be alone."

"I don't think you should be," he countered, now genuinely worried. "Something happened to you. Something bad?" She shrugged away from his outstretched hand, taking a deep breath.

"Just let it go, Harry." Her voice was controlled now, and very hard. "It's nothing. I don't want to talk about it, OK?" She glared up at him, eyes dry and glinting angrily.

"You'd better get back to your club," she said firmly, taking a step away from him. Harry nodded vaguely. Gwyn turned and walked away, and Harry stayed where he was, waiting for her to change her mind, the way she had before, and come back to tell him what was bothering her, arms around his shoulders.

But she never did.

Justin flopped down, face buried in his stack of books, and moaned pitifully. "We will never finish this essay," he complained. "We'll be stuck here all through Christmas holidays with no presents, and no puddings, and nothing to keep us company but Snape's blasted essay."

"That's the spirit," Padma muttered acerbically. She had one quill tucked behind her ear, and another in her hand as she scribbled down notes from the treatise she was currently reading. It was Sunday night, and the four of them had been diligently researching the effects of the lunar cycle on various magical maladies, potions, and ingredients in the library all weekend long.

Harry turned a page in his book and found himself almost wishing that Justin's prediction were true, as it would mean that he would at least have some company for the holidays. Ron wasn't speaking to him at all any more. Had they been a few years younger, there would probably be a thick black line drawn down the center of the sixth year boys' dormitory; they were far too mature for that, however, and so each had instead gone about his weekend as though the other didn't exist. Harry had actually relished the difficult research project for the asylum it offered him from the angry redhead glaring at him across the Gryffindor common room.

"Ugh. Bloody lunar cycles. Bloody moon. Stupid bloody healing potions and moons, mooncalves and their dung, and bloody great tides and..." Justin was rambling as he folded the corners of his parchment. Talking ceaselessly about nothing was, Harry had come to understand, Justin's preferred mechanism of procrastination. They had all quickly learned to tune him out when he was in that mood.

Harry rested his head lethargically in one hand and stared over at Gwyn, sitting across the table from him. She was doodling intricate little treble clefs in the margins of her essay. He hadn't yet been able to convince her to tell him what had happened Friday night, and although she acted cheerfully enough around him, Harry was concerned by small changes in her behavior. He had grown used to the way she reached for his hand when they were together, the way she stood on her tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek when she thought it would make him blush, the way she sniggered and laughed under her breath, but she hadn't done any of those things all weekend. He wondered if it was his imagination, or if she was actively avoiding contact with him. He wondered vaguely if she'd been talking to Cho again. Maybe Cho had told her something that had upset her on Friday night. Maybe she'd changed her mind about him entirely...

He decided to make a test. While she concentrated on her doodles, he slowly reached across the table for the book lying next to her on the table. Reaching for the text, he let his fingers graze the back of her hand. Gwyn's head snapped up and she recoiled as though he'd given her a static shock. He opened his mouth to ask her what was the matter, but was cut off by Padma slamming her book shut.

"I can't listen to this any more!" she cried in exasperation. "You and your stupid waffle! Can't you just shut up and read for ten minutes?" She glared menacingly at Justin, opening his mouth to argue, and she gathered all her books together. Turning, she stomped out of the library.

Wide eyed and slack-jawed, Justin turned towards Harry and Gwyn. Gwyn giggled.

"She's just stressed out," Harry said consolingly. "Don't take it personally."

Justin snorted. "Actually, I'm glad. If she's done for the night, then I can go too." He grabbed his own books and parchments and headed for the exit. "Night!"

"Bye," Gwyn said absently, returning to her doodles. Harry watched her for a minute more, but she was absorbed and oblivious to his gaze.

"So," she said finally, "are you going to call it a night, too?" She didn't look up at him.

Harry shrugged. "Might as well. I've got other lessons besides potions, after all. Lindell's still on me to find somebody to practice Legilimency with, and Hermione's busy babysitting Ron..."

Gwyn snorted. She glanced up at him at last, and her expression was sympathetic. "He was pretty pissed off about me showing up at your meeting, wasn't he?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know what the big deal is. I mean, it's not like the club's some big secret any more. He's just got his knickers in a twist over something and instead of coming out and saying what it is, he just blows up about stupid stuff that doesn't really mean anything."

"Well," Gwyn said with a sigh, "I'm sorry all the same." Normally, Harry thought, she would have reached across the table to take his hand. Tonight she didn't.

"What about you?" he asked, carefully keeping his voice neutral. "Are you okay?"

Gwyn glanced down uncomfortably, and spoke in a voice that was deliberately cheery. "Sure! Why wouldn't I be?"

Harry frowned. "Well, it's just that you--"

"You know, I could help you practice Legilimency," she suggested, smiling up at him. "If you wanted."

Harry looked at her, surprised. "Really? I didn't think..."

"Sure!" she said quickly. "What do I do?"

Harry got the distinct impression that she was changing the subject, but he also knew that Professor Lindell wouldn't accept his excuses for much longer. Sighing inwardly, he reached for his wand.

"Ok then. Close your eyes," he said, and she obeyed. "We'll see if I can make this work."

"I hope you're better at Legilimency than you are at Potions," she said wryly, eyes closed tight. "Should I be worried about you scrambling my brains?"

Harry pointed his wand at her and concentrated. "Legilimens!"

Images came streaming at him all at once, as though he had loosed a flood. One of the courtyards off the Entrance Hall. A wand in his face. A swirl of black robes. A rough stone wall. Pain in his arm. Shadows on the ground. Clouds parting to reveal a single star in the black sky.

Gwyn gasped and Harry opened his eyes, frowning. This was nothing like practicing with the reserved Professor Lindell. It was too confusing, and it was as though he were seeing all the memories from Gwyn's point of view, rushing and roaring without perspective or conscious thought. There was a way around that, he remembered, that Professor Lindell had explained.

"Woah," Gwyn said, her voice shaky. "Is that what's supposed to happen?"

Harry nodded. "Sort of," he said. "I'm going to try again."

Gwyn didn't respond, so Harry pointed his wand again. "Legilimens."

Again, the rush of images almost overpowered him, but this time he pushed, the way he did when trying to reach into Professor Lindell's mind, only instead of reaching in, he was slowly backing out. Abruptly, the images resolved themselves into a single scene. It was like looking down into a pensive; the colors were grey and muted, and the light was ghostly pale. Harry was reminded forcefully of his dream, but pushed the thought aside, trying to concentrate.

Gwyn waved goodbye to Justin and took, as was her custom, the shortcut through a little courtyard on her way to Ravenclaw tower. Harry wondered vaguely when this memory had taken place, and was about to move past it when he saw a flash of blond hair slip out of the shadows behind her and begin to follow. She didn't hear Malfoy coming. She didn't know he was there.

Harry's heart pounded in his ears, as his breath quickened. He had a feeling he knew exactly when this memory had taken place, and began to slip out of the moment, recalling the sounds of dueling students, a door burst open, red rimmed eyes. Then he forced himself to concentrate, and the images from Gwyn's mind coalesced once more.

They entered the silent, empty courtyard, Malfoy only a few steps behind Gwyn now. The space was deserted at this time of night, its trees bare and silver in the dreamlike light, high stone walls closing in like a box. Harry resisted the ridiculous yet overwhelming urge to call out, to warn her. A wash of sensations flowed over him: cold, dark, hungry, hurried, dinner, essay, music... Gwyn was mentally listing things she needed to do that evening. Suddenly, Malfoy stepped on a twig which cracked like a shot in the silent courtyard.

Everything stopped, and Harry felt his -- Gwyn's -- heart jump into his throat in surprise.

Gwyn whirled around. She barely had time to register a look of surprise before the words left his lips.

"Silencio!" he hissed as her lips parted, eyes wide and afraid. Harry could feel his fists clenching tightly, fingernails digging into his palm as Gwyn did the same. Harry's first reaction was to reach for his wand, but stood mesmerized by the scene before him.

Malfoy was beside her in a breath, one of her wrists closed in his hand. Harry opened his mouth to yell, to shout, but no sound came out into the frigid yard. Gwyn's mouth was working feverishly, but all she could hear was the crunch of dry leaves underfoot.

Malfoy smiled.

She tried to wrench her arm out of his grasp, but he tightened his grip on her wrist and twisted her arm, until she hissed. He watched with obvious pleasure as her expression changed from angry indignation to anguish, the breath forced out of her lungs in a sharp gasp of pain. She froze immediately, leaning towards him to ease the sting. He wrapped his wand arm around her waist and pulled her closer, his other arm still twisting hers painfully behind his back. Gwyn inhaled raggedly and smelled his cologne: expensive, musky, and rank.

Her arm still in his iron grasp, he backed her swiftly up against one of the cold stone walls of the courtyard, and her head banged painfully against the granite. She strained to move away from him, ears ringing from the blow, but he had the advantage of both height and weight; no matter how hard she struggled, she remained pinned. Maneuvering her arms behind her back, he quickly cast an Incarcerus spell, causing thin silver cords to shoot from the end of his wand and bind her wrists. Hands safely bound, wand ready in case she moved, he surveyed his work.

She had stopped trying to speak, and set her lips in a thin, hard line. She watched Malfoy warily, following his every movement. Her limbs were tensed, and her heart echoed loudly in her ears, drowning out all other sound.

Malfoy bent his head close to her ear, blond hair grazing her cheek. His whispered words were lost in the pounding of her heart, but his breath was hot and clammy and she flinched as he pressed his body firmly up against her. He gripped her arm to emphasize his words. She grimaced and tried not to gag from fear and revulsion.

He released her arm, but kept her pinned between his body and the ancient stone wall. She glared at him as she worked her hands frantically behind her back. The spell had been sloppily cast, and the cords were loose. Her skin scraped painfully against the cold rough stone of the wall, but she didn't stop. Malfoy, intent on the fear and hatred in her eyes, didn't seem to notice, and she tried to hiss as he pressed even closer. Her defiance seemed to thrill him; she felt it, and inhaled sharply.

Wand firmly in his fist, Malfoy pinned her shoulder against the wall. With his left hand he cupped her face, stroking her cheekbone with the ball of his thumb. His eyes never left hers as he leaned forward and pressed his lips firmly against hers. She tried to turn away but he tightened his grip, pressing his fingers into her face, digging his nails into her cheek. He tasted like salt and licorice.

Suddenly, Gwyn felt the cords give. She jerked her knee into his groin with the ferocity of a caged lion, and Malfoy stumbled backwards, gasping. She was yelling again, calling him every foul thing she could think of, words catapulting through her head though they left her lips without a sound. She wrenched her arms apart, the delicate silver cords snapping and falling to the ground, and she fled into the castle, leaving Malfoy prone in the dirt, broken and alone.

Harry gasped for air and opened his eyes. His stomach churned dangerously, and he thought for a moment that he might be sick. Gwyn's eyes were closed, jaw clenched, and head bowed. There were silent tears running down her face, and she was clutching Harry's hand so fiercely he had to try not to wince in pain. He did not know what to say. There were no words.

Harry felt six years' accumulated hatred boiling inside of him, but he took a deep breath, pushing it back down. There would be time for vengeance later. For now, he reached out and wrapped his arms around Gwyn, pulling her into a tight embrace. Instinctively, she pulled away, her body rigid and tense. After a moment, however, he felt her relax as hot tears spilled onto his shoulder and he heard a heart wrenching sob.