The Temple of Le Fay

Chapter Fourteen: Letters From Far From Home

Harry was awakened a few days later by the soft tapping of Hedwig at the dormitory window. He clambered unhappily from his bed, for it was very early, and made his way to the window. Hedwig fluttered through on the chilly autumn breeze and hooted softly as Harry shut the window and untied the letter from her leg. She glided gracefully over to his bedside table, and sipped daintily from the goblet of water he had put there the night before.

Harry climbed back into bed and sat the letter on the bedside table. He closed his eyes and tried to will himself back to sleep. It didn't work. Whenever he was on the verge of dozing off, he caught himself wondering what the letter read. Eventually, and with a mournful sigh for the lost hours of sleep, he turned over and picked up the letter. He slipped on his glasses and opened up the parchment. Remus' neat handwriting stared up at him from the page. Moving his glasses, he rubbed his eyes to chase away the sleep and started reading.

Dear Harry,

We're glad to hear that things have started well this year. Sorry it's taken so long to get back to you, but as you can imagine we're pretty busy. Business is keeping us moving and there's a lot of paperwork, accounts and so on. I'm sure you understand.

Incidentally Harry, phases of the moon? You're not anywhere near as funny as you think you are. That's okay, though, your Dad loved that joke too. He actually was pretty good at Divination. He had a great imagination on him, though, and I think our teacher was even more gullible than Trelawney.

As for your Exploding Snap problem, I do have an idea how to help. The challenge in matching your staggering achievements is being able to perform under pressure. I don't want people going crazy over this sort of thing, it's not worth it, but a little bit of a scare here and there can help people perform wonders.

As for explaining the rules, well, don't. People will pick it up quickly enough, and if they don't want to play at first, then they can just watch. The only way you can improve people's abilities is by testing them, expanding their ranges. They'll keep up with you if they want to, so don't worry about how to move so slowly that everyone can keep up.

I understand from a mutual friend that you had fun in Diagon Alley last time you were there. It's an interesting place, and the people you can meet there know all sorts of things that can prove to be useful. I always find that someone you bump into unexpectedly can prove to be the most interesting part of your day. I've learnt a lot from that sort of meeting.

Glad to hear that Ginny made the team. I'm sure I don't need to remind you to stay in your own changing room at all times. Padfoot wants to say something about this. Hang on.

I want to be sure you're behaving yourself, Harry. I'm not ready to be a great godparent yet, understand?

Harry blushed deeply, and was profoundly grateful Ron wasn't awake. This was one letter he wouldn't be showing the others.

Anyway, Ginny's family would kill you before I even got a chance to hear the news, I'm sure.

Harry could barely believe what he was reading.

What exactly does Sirius think of me?

Harry thought. I'm not even thinking about that stuff until Ginny is a lot older.

He grimaced.

Okay,

he admitted to himself. I'm not going to actually do any of that stuff until Ginny is a lot older.

He turned back to the letter.

Moony says I'm being too hard on you, but I'm just making up in quality for all the chats I'm not around to give you in quantity. Seriously, Harry, you do not want to go there.

Moony again, Harry. I've sent Padfoot to his room to think about what he did. I don't think he'll pick on you again.

He has a point, though. Be honest, Harry, the thought has crossed your mind, I'm sure. Still, don't act on it.

There endeth the lesson as the Marauders would give it. Trust me when I say for once that you're lucky your Dad isn't around to give it. He was always very in favour of acting properly. If in doubt, just imagine Ron and the other Weasley men standing over you.

Anyway, we'd better go. Hope Hedwig doesn't mind the flight, but we're pretty far south right now. Still, she'll be happy to stretch her wings, I'm sure. She's been a bit cooped up in here with us the last few days.

Write back soon,

M & P

Harry put the letter away in his trunk and sank back into his bed. How on earth was he ever going to look Sirius and Remus in the eye again?

His last thought as he sunk back into sleep was; And how am I going to give people a scare?

*

Herbology that day was even more sapping than normal. Halloween was approaching, and the autumn winter had bitten hard. In response, Professor Sprout had increased the heating charms around the greenhouse to almost unbearable levels. Harry was among the many who abandoned their robes almost as soon as he walked into the greenhouse. Stripped down to his shirtsleeves, Harry was still sweltering by the time they reached break. A house elf arrived during break with drinks for the class, and Harry took his goblet gratefully. The orange juice tasted wonderful, and he rolled the cool goblet over his forehead as well. Looking back into the greenhouse, he cast a baleful eye over the Audrus Audrus plants that were that lesson's practical subjects. The plants resembled Venus Flytraps, except they were snapping at the students rather than any of the late season insects that had taken refuge in the warmth of the greenhouse.

"Vicious, aren't they? We had to deal with them last year."

Harry turned around and smiled at Cho. The Ravenclaw girl had her collar unbuttoned, her sleeves rolled up, what looked suspiciously like calves liver in her hair and two slashes across the front of her jumper. Harry didn't want to think about what seventh year Magical Creatures project she was working on that had done that to her. "If they had legs, Hagrid would be teaching us about them, not Sprout," he said.

"I've seen Hagrid hanging around this greenhouse," Cho said. "I think he's hoping for a cutting."

"A cutting? He can take one of Skeeter's swords to them for all I care," Harry said. "Sorry. I didn't mean to snap. I didn't sleep well last night."

"Something wrong?"

"No, I just got a letter in at about five o'clock this morning," he said, leaning back against the greenhouse. From the outside, it was pleasantly warm, and Harry had left his robe inside.

"Strange time to get a letter," Cho said. She leaned on the greenhouse next to him. "Not from one of the Brisbane kids, was it?"

Harry thought briefly of Nick and Josh, two Australian students he'd met the previous year. "No, it was from my godfather."

"Oh. I didn't know you had, well. . ." she tailed off, blushing slightly.

I didn't mean to mention Sirius. Blast.

"I didn't know either, not until a few years ago. He had to go away just after I was born."

"Oh. Well, I'm glad you have someone," Cho said. She looked as though she wished she hadn't said anything. "I mean, I know you don't have it easy, but, I mean, er. . ."

Harry smiled at her.

"Thank you," he said gently.

She looked at the ground for a moment. "Harry, can I ask you something?" she said quietly.

"Yeah, I guess so," Harry replied. He watched her intently as she chewed on her lip.

"Can we. . . talk sometime? About, well, about. . ."

"The Triwizard Tournament?" Harry asked. Cho looked up sharply, and Harry was horrified to see tears in her eyes.

"Would that be okay?" she asked, her voice cracking slightly.

"Of course. When do you want to do it?"

"Could we meet up a week on Saturday? It's Hogsmeade weekend, and I thought we could find somewhere quiet to talk."

"Yeah, no problems," Harry said as Professor Sprout appeared at the greenhouse door to call them back in. "I'll talk to you before then, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks, Harry," Cho said. She smiled slightly as he trudged dispiritedly back to his Audrus Audrus.

*

"What was that about?" Ron asked. He was slapping at his Audrus plant with the flat of a trowel, and seemed to be enjoying himself, if not entirely focusing on the conversation at hand.

"Cho wanted to talk to me alone sometime," Harry said. "About, well, you know. . . Anyway, we said we'd get together next Saturday when everyone's in Hogsmeade."

"Don't you have plans with Ginny that day?" Hermione asked, expertly tickling her Audrus under its chin so that it opened its jaws wide and let her pour a bottle of plant food inside.

"Er, no, not yet," Harry admitted. "I know I shouldn't abandon her on a Hogsmeade weekend, but I have to talk to Cho at some point." He slapped at his Audrus, which was winding a creeper around his wrist. "I've been expecting her to come and want to talk since last year," he added tiredly. "I don't know what to say to her."

"Just tell her the truth," Ron said distractedly, ducking as his plant lunged at him. With a victorious whoop he managed to throw his plant food, bottle and all, into the plant's gaping mouth. A quick "Reducto!" burst the bottle and the Audrus swallowed in surprise.

"Five points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley," Professor Sprout called from the end of the potting bench. "I don't want you using magic around these plants They're far too fragile."

"Fragile," Ron repeated as they left the greenhouse an hour later. "She's mad. I swear, I could almost think that Hagrid's taking Herbology at the moment. Some of the plants we've had this year are just evil."

"Mmm, interesting though, aren't they," Hermione said. She was watching Harry, who seemed to be in a world of his own. "What do you think, Harry?"

"Yeah, very interesting," Harry replied in a distracted voice. "Better than Herbology, isn't it?"

Ron stopped short. "What?"

Harry looked at him. "What?"

Hermione sighed. "Sometimes I wonder how I keep up with you two. Such witty repartee, such stunning conversation. . ." She laughed as they looked at her indignantly.

"Harry, what were you thinking about?"

"Cho," Harry sighed. "She's going to ask me. . . Well, you know what she's going to ask me, right?"

Hermione nodded sympathetically. Ron looked from one to the other in bemusement.

"Hello?" he said, waving his hand between them. "Someone here who doesn't speak the same language as you two. What are you two going on about?"

"Oh honestly Ron, isn't it obvious?" Hermione said. "Cho will want to know if Cedric said anything about her to Harry when he. . ." She tailed off. Even after nearly eighteen months, it was still painful to talk about Cedric.

"Oh, right," Ron said. He looked at the ground, his ears colouring pinkly in a way that Harry suspected had little to do with the cool autumn wind blowing around them. "Did he?" Ron asked.

Harry hesitated. He had told almost no-one, not even Ginny, what had really happened on that horrible night. Only Sirius and Professor Dumbledore knew the full story. Whenever he thought about it, Harry was almost overwhelmed by the painful memories.

"No," he said eventually. "The way he died, he didn't have time to say anything."

Hermione and Ron bowed their heads for a moment. They had seen the Avada Kedavra curse in use, and the thought of Cedric falling lifeless to the ground sent shivers down their spines. Reflexively, Hermione reached for Ron's hand. He took it and squeezed it gently.

"Come on," he said. "We'd better get in to lunch. I'm not going to think of what to say to her standing out here."

*

The next few days passed slowly. Harry felt a mounting sense of dread whenever he saw Cho pass by. He found he was looking for her in the hallways now, trying to judge her mood. The few times that he'd seen her during the previous year had given him no indication of how she would act when they had their discussion.

One piece of good news was that Ginny didn't mind Harry missing the trip to Hogsmeade.

"I know you have to have this talk with her," she said, curled up against him in one of the Gryffindor common room's oversized armchairs. "So of course I don't mind you missing the trip. I can go with Dean and the others. He already asked me the other day."

Harry looked over to where Dean was engaged in a heated game of Exploding Snap with Josh and Vickie, and felt a pang of jealousy that his roommate would be enjoying his Saturday. He leant forward and kissed Ginny's forehead.

"I don't deserve you," he whispered to her. "No-one kept faith with me for as long as you did. Hermione and Ron have both wanted to chuck me off the Astronomy Tower over the least few years, but you've always been there for me. Forgive me for being too stupid to realise it."

"You're forgiven," she giggled. "Besides, Hermione always had faith in you. And Ron only thought you were a prat in the fourth year because you wouldn't admit you were a prat."

"Fine. I'm a prat," Harry smiled. "Will Ron forgive me now?"

"Ron forgave you two years ago," she laughed. "You do remember that, right?"

"You mean that you tricked me into admitting to being a prat?" Harry said, grinning down at her.

"I guess I did. Aren't I clever?"

The two laughed, and Harry felt some of the dread lift from him as he held Ginny close.

*

By the Sunday night, Harry was actually starting to feel like the talk with Cho would be a good experience. Admittedly, it would be good in the sense that a trip to the dentist was good; Harry would feel happier for it being over. Nonetheless, he found himself thinking of the night of the third task a little more often, and it was less of a strain to do so. He knew that he would never feel comfortable remembering Voldemort's resurrection, nor the way he had duelled with the former Tom Riddle. However, having something other than his own emotions to focus on allowed him to view the memories with a greater sense of detachment that he welcomed.

That week went by much as any other. Harry struggled through Potions on Wednesday. Goyle had returned to his usual state of hopelessness, and when he melted another cauldron -a school one, as Goyle had melted Harry's, Ron's Neville's and eventually his own- Snape lost his temper and actually took points from Slytherin for the first time that anyone could remember. Ron was crowing with delight as they left the classroom.

"Twenty points! And he only took five from Neville for turning Pansy Parkinson into a whelk. This may be the best day of my life."

"You don't exactly have high standards, do you?"

"Oh, come on Hermione, even you have to admit that it was a laugh watching Goyle trying to work out how many points twenty was."

Hermione smiled very slightly. "Well, yes, I suppose it was slightly amusing, but really Ron, it's not very in keeping with the idea of getting on with everyone is it?"

"Hermione, I like the ideas as much as anyone, I really do," Ron said. "But it's going to be a while before I can accept Goyle as a decent bloke, okay? I mean, there's the way Crabbe and him keep trying to get Harry in trouble, for a start."

"You think that's what they're doing?" Harry asked. Even with all the accidents they'd caused, he'd thought that they were just thick.

"Well, they may just be thick," Ron said. "But I find it hard to believe that Goyle's melted four cauldrons in seven practical lessons. Even Neville's never done that. And he only does it when you're his partner, you notice that?"

Harry hadn't. "This is why you beat me at chess every time we play, isn't it?" he asked. "You're good at spotting patterns and stuff."

"Yeah, guess so," Ron said, colouring slightly. "I still can't beat Dad, though. He's amazing. Plays with a set of Muggle chessmen, too."

"Maybe that's why Professor Dumbledore wants your Dad to help him? I mean, if you can work out what Crabbe and Goyle are up to, maybe your Dad is working out what their Dads are up to."

"Yeah, maybe," Ron said. "Thing is, if you're right and I'm wrong, then I'll be embarrassed about thinking Crabbe and Goyle haven't changed. If you're right and my Dad's wrong, though, then things could be a bit more serious."

"Well, you'll just have to trust your Dad not to get anything wrong, won't you?" Hermione said.

"Yeah, besides, if he can beat you at chess, I don't reckon that Crabbe and Goyle's Dads can be much of a challenge," Harry said. Ron smiled appreciatively as the three of them made this way into the Great Hall for dinner.

*

Later that night, Harry tossed and turned as he tried vainly to get some sleep. Normally he felt exhausted after Double Potions, but Ron's enthusiasm for Goyle's points loss had been infectious and the two of them had laughed about it until Ron dropped off to sleep. Harry could hear him snoring gently on the far side of the room.

Harry sat up and thumped his pillows several times to try and make them comfortable. Lying back down, he curled up under the heavy blanket and closed his eyes.

Five minutes later he gave up, and got out of bed to get a drink of water. Lying back down, he sighed heavily. He didn't feel in the least bit tired.

It's Thursday tomorrow. Herbology in the morning. I suppose I'll see Cho at break time. We can sort out where we're going to go on Saturday. . .

It was Harry's last conscious thought as he drifted suddenly into restless sleep.

*

"Master?"

"Tell me of your progress."

"As slow as we imagined. The information we have before us is so great, and the clues we are looking for are likely to be tiny, if indeed they exist at all."

"I must be patient, you mean."

"We must all be patient my lord."

"I am immortal. Time has no meaning. Make sure that no one else can find the information, however."

"Of course, my lord."

The man was shown from the chamber. Although his head was hooded, Harry knew that he was sweating heavily.

"Besides, I have other pursuits to entertain me, don't I, Wormtail?"

Peter Pettigrew stpped out of the shadows in the corner of the room. He wasn't masked, and every drop of sweat was visible on his brow. He looked dreadful, completely bald now, with his grey skin hanging off him. Harry wondered if he could eat at all, or whether he threw everything up as soon as he swallowed it. "Yes master. Your orders have been carried out exactly as you requested," he whispered, wringing his hands as he trembled. Harry saw the candle light of the room glint off Wormtail's silver hand.

"Lord Voldemort does not request, Wormtail."

"O-of course, master, a mere slip of the tongue, I-"

"You live by my will alone, Wormtail. Lord Voldemort's gratitude is not infinite, even if my life is."

"Of course, master. Your will shall be carried out, exactly as you ordered."

"See that it is, Wormtail. I imagine I do not need to explain to you again what will happen if Albus Dumbledore's motley collection of mudbloods, half-bloods and blood traitors find Le Fay's last resting place before I do."

"No master. I understand perfectly what will happen."

"I consider that unlikely, Wormtail. I know you have little imagination, although I suppose that over these last years you have truly come to understand and appreciate pain. Rest assured that if I am thwarted once more then I shall ensure that my suffering, great though it shall be, shall pale in comparison to that of my worthless followers."

Pettigrew muttered something about checking on the preparations and headed for the door.

"Before you leave. . ."

From the way Wormtail tensed, he seemed to know what was coming. There wasn't even any flash of light, he just screamed, and his legs buckled under him. His shabby robes pooled around him as he curled up on the floor, the effects of the Cruciatus curse shredding him tortuously.

Harry buckled to his knees, the pain from his scar tearing through his skull as Wormtail screamed. Harry's sight blurred into blackness as his fingers clawed at the air.

And then, as soon as it had begun, it stopped. Wormtail lay whimpering on the floor of the room, great shuddering breaths escaping him as he tried to stand.

"Go now, and see that my forces are ready. Do not fail me, Wormtail."

"No, master," Wormtail managed to whisper as he somehow dragged himself from the room.

For the first time, Harry looked at the figure seated on a chair atop a raised dais at the back of the room. Lord Voldemort sat languidly in the chair, the fingers of one hand drumming on the arm of the chair. His face was exactly as Harry remembered; Pale, cold, reptilian with its large eyes and slits where his nostrils should have been. As Harry watched, Voldemort's thin, lipless mouth spread into a wide, toothless, sinister smile. Voldemort settled back in his chair, and Harry could feel the wave of pleasure radiating off him like a snake slithering across the floor.

"And then," Voldemort said quietly to himself. "Then we shall truly make people suffer."

Voldemort's grin grew still wider, and he started to laugh.

Harry's scar exploded in pain.

His eyes slammed open, and Harry snapped upright in bed, gasping for breath as his scar pulsed angrily on his forehead. Stumbling from his bed and out of the dormitory, he made it to the common room before dropping at his knees, clutching at his head.

*

"Harry?"

Harry's eyes fluttered open. He looked around him, his vision blurred. He reached up gingerly to touch his scar, and felt the coolness of an ice pack laying on his forehead.

The cold triggered a rush of memories and sensations as Harry came to full wakefulnesss.

"Voldemort!" he gasped, trying to sit upright. Strong hands clasped his arms and forced him back onto the bed. He realised that he was in the hospital wing as someone spoke to him.

"Lie down, mate. It's alright."

"Ron?" He looked at his friend, whose face was changing colour swiftly from ashen concern to furious pink.

"Yeah, Harry. Listen, you ever do that again and I swear I'll tear you a new-"

There was a cough from the other side of Harry's bed. Harry turned away from Ron and saw Professor Dumbledore sitting calmly, with Ginny beside him. Ginny was red eyed, and even paler than Ron had been.

"I believe that what Mr. Weasley is trying to say is that Miss Weasley here found you lying on the floor of the Gryffindor common room, and she was rather perturbed when she could not awaken you."

"I'm sorry," Harry said. He tried to catch Ginny's eye, but she was staring into her lap. She gulped, and nodded slightly, but wouldn't look at him.

"What were you doing down there, anyway?" Ron asked.

"Voldemort," Harry said again. "I had a dream, but it wasn't a dream, you know?"

"A vision?" Dumbledore asked. Harry nodded. The Headmaster looked over the top of his half-moon spectacles at Harry. "Do you remember anything about it?"

Harry recounted what he had seen. When he told the three of them about Voldemort placing the Cruciatus curse on Wormtail, Ginny shuddered and Ron hissed. Dumbledore, however, looked unperturbed. Reaching inside his robe, he pulled out a copy of the Daily Prophet.

"You may wish to read this," he said.

Harry looked at the front page.

DARK ATTACKS

The Dark Mark was seen again for the first time in nearly three months last night,

writes your special correspondent Rita Skeeter. The homes of several Ministry of Magic workers were assaulted, but protective measures set in place by Deputy Minister Arthur Weasley repelled the attacks.

Not so lucky, however, was the Museum of Medieval Magic, located in Tooting Bec, London. The Museum was attacked by approximately thirty dark wizards, and the museum's curator, Circa Centauri, was subjected to the Cruciatus curse while several of the wizards ransacked his office. Whether or not they found what they were looking for is not known, although Centauri was able to confirm that they did not query him regarding any specific information before being taken to St. Mungo's for treatment.

Although these attacks were believed to have been brought to an end by Ministry action, Minister Fudge now faces further questions about what action he will take over this latest dark activity. Rumours of a return from the grave by He Who Must Not be Named have been spreading for over a year now, since Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived...

Harry put the paper down, not wanting to relive the issues Skeeter would bring up.

"This is true, isn't it?" he asked. "Rita Skeeter wrote this, and she can be trusted, can't she?" he said, looking at Ron.

"Yes. Rita Skeeter had a break from her job last year, and seems to have returned with a renewed passion for the truth," Dumbledore said gravely. "While I am not sure quite what caused this change, I think it admirable that she is now seeking out the facts," he added, with what Harry thought might have been a small smile.

"However, the fact remains that Harry's vision last night coincided with a resurgence of attacks by Voldemort's forces."

Ron shuddered at the mention of Voldemort's name.

"It seems that after a year of relative peace for you," Dumbledore continued, politely ignoring Ron's discomfort, "you are once again to be subject to Voldemort's mood swings. I wish there were a way to spare you this, Harry, but-"

"But the information could be useful. If I don't collapse before I can tell someone. What time were the attacks carried out?"

"At around four o'clock this morning," Dumbledore said. "Miss Weasley found you at around half past."

"I couldn't sleep last night," Harry said. "It must have been pretty late when I finally did fall asleep. I can't have been dreaming for more than a few minutes. If I could have just held on. . ."

"Come now, Harry. Even if you had been able to find me -and for the record, I was away from the school last night- then you had no idea what the attacks would be, nor even that there would be attacks last night. No, you cannot blame yourself for Voldemort's actions."

Harry nodded glumly. He looked again at Ginny, who was wiping her eyes with a handkerchief. He looked at Dumbledore and Ron.

"Could we. . ?"

"Of course," Dumbledore said. "Come, Mr. Weasley. Let us find Miss Granger so that she can fill you in on the exciting classes that you missed out on today. I am sure that there will be a great deal of work for you to catch up on."

Dumbledore and Ron left the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey passed by to give Harry a foul smelling potion. And then Harry and Ginny were alone.

She didn't seem to move. She was just there beside him, hugging him hard in a way that he felt would surely crack his ribs. He wasn't complaining, though. Instead, he returned the embrace with equal force. It seemed a long time until either one lessened their grip.

"I'm sorry I scared you," Harry said at last.

"You'd better be," she said, her voice muffled as she buried her face against his chest. "If you ever do that again, you'll be lucky if Ron gets to you first."

Harry laughed out loud, and tipped Ginny's head back. He kissed her, gently at first and then with a passion born of fear, and hatred of all that she was not.

No fear,

he thought at last. So long as I have this girl beside me, I'm not scared.

*

Madam Pomfrey ordered Harry to stay in the hospital wing overnight, to ensure he was fully recovered. Harry knew that it would be pointless to argue, and so resigned himself to another night in the hospital wing. At least if he had another bad dream, it wouldn't disturb the others.

Hermione dropped by after dinner and took Harry through the lessons he'd missed. Belatedly, he realised that he'd missed the Herbology lesson where he'd hoped to see Cho.

"Oh, it's okay," Hermione said. "She said that she'd rearrange it with you once you were out of here. She thought you wouldn't want to talk about, well, that, if you were ill."

"Hermione, do me a favour. Find her tomorrow and say that we'll meet as planned, would you? I want to get this talk out of the way. Tell her I'll meet her at the Quidditch pitch on Saturday at eleven, if that's alright by her."

Hermione nodded understandingly. "Of course I will."

"Working hard?" a familiar voice came from the doorway. Professor Dumbledore came in and peered at their work.

"Ah, Herbology. Not a great strength of mine, although I have endless admiration for Professor Sprout and her tireless attempts to spread compost throughout the school."

Hermione giggled, and Harry smiled.

"Now, I shan't interrupt for too long, but your friend Ronald mentioned you were looking for a way to scare your Duelling Club pupils, Harry?"

Harry nodded, remembering the letter from Sirius and Remus. It all seemed like a long time ago, even though it had only been a week previously.

"Well, Professor McGonagall has informed me that a Boggart has managed to find its way into the school. Should you wish, it could be used for the Duelling Club."

"Yeah, that'd be good, actually," Harry said, his mind running through the possibilities. "It'd give the others a Dementor to practise their Patronus charms against, which is how I learned."

"Excellent. I shall ask Mr. Filch not to evict it from the premises just yet, then. If you see Professor McGonagall, she will tell you where to find it when you are ready. They do tend to flit around."

Even when Dumbledore had left, Harry continued to think about using the Boggart-Dementor in his Duelling Club sessions. He wondered how close he should stand to it to make sure that it would stay a Dementor even with other people coming forward to tackle it. He wondered-

"Harry? Harry, are you listening to me at all?"

"What? Oh, sorry Hermione. I just think that using the Boggart will really give the Duelling Club a lift, you know?"

"Yes, well, even so, the next meeting isn't until after Halloween, whereas this essay has to be handed in by Monday lunchtime."

Reluctantly, Harry tore his thoughts away from the Boggart and the Duelling Club, and focussed once more on the feeding habits and digestive process of the Matricius plant, which slowly consumed its prey after causing them to hallucinate that they were going about their lives in a normal manner.

Just imagine that

, Ron had scribbled on Hermione's notes. You could be imagining you're in Double Potions, and dying as well. Not sure which is worse, myself.

To be continued...