Harry Potter and the Prophecy of the Strinx

Harry Potter and the Prophecy of the Strinx

By Moon Weasley

Chapter Twenty-Two:

Loosing Ginny

Explaining to his friends why he hadn't told them about Neville's parents was a tiresome experience. Seeing as Ginny didn't even know anything about Harry's little visit inside Dumbledore's Pensive last year, he had to retell the entire story from the beginning. When she was finally brought up to speed they'd already reached the gates to Hogwarts, and Hermione insisted on a walk around the lake to "discuss matters further".

Both Ron and Hermione were obviously quite hurt by the fact that he'd kept this from them for an entire year. Hermione seemed downright miffed and had adopted a scary stony-faced air whenever she addressed him. Ron had taken the news of Harry's little secret slightly better, but he too was acting uncharacteristically strained.

"But Dumbledore made me promise not to say anything," Harry argued pleadingly in a futile attempt to make them understand his reasons for secrecy.

"So?" Ron retorted, a slight edge to his voice. "Since when did you start abiding Dumbledore's every whim? If I'm not mistaken you've even lied to him on occasion."

"Yeah," Hermione chimed in. "Don't take this the wrong way, Harry, because I under no circumstance encourage lying or breaching promises. But our case is sort of special, isn't it? We're all targets for Voldemort these days, and the fewer secrets we have, the better. One of these days something might happen and something that seems totally inconsequential, like information about the Longbottoms, might make a difference."

"I see your point, Hermione," said Harry defensively, "and if it had been any other kind of news I would've told you. But Dumbledore said, and I happened to agree with him for once, that it should be up to Neville if he wanted people to know about this or not. Besides," he added mischievously, "I'm fairly certain both of you have secrets you haven't told each other too. I don't pressure you to tell me everything, you know. Shouldn't that be a three-way deal?"

Stuttering and mumbling profusely Ron and Hermione wisely let the matter rest with that. Judging by the way their faces suddenly looked to be ablaze, both were probably thinking about their (to others) obvious crush on each other, which they both adamantly refused to address. Dunderheads, Harry thought affectionately. But at least that got them to shut up.

When they finally made it back to the castle, dinner was about to be served. Exhausted both from the long walk and the turmoil in Hogsmeade, none of them felt compelled to climb seven staircases only to return down minutes later. Still clutching their bulging bags and covered in dust and soot from the explosion, they headed straight for the Great Hall and sat down at the Gryffindor table.

Unsurprisingly the attack on Gladrags was the hot topic of the evening. Rumours, most of them ridiculously off the mark, were circling the hall but Harry was too tired to pay any attention to them. When plates suddenly appeared bulging with scrumptious looking food, Harry took a leaf out of Ron's book and began wolfing down his dinner. He figured that with his mouth full of food he could avoid being dragged into any conversations, and quite frankly he needed some time to think about a few things.

The attack on Gladrags had been Harry's second hands-on experience with what Voldemort and his evil followers were capable of. Sure, he'd read about some of the Muggle-attacks as well as a few Wizard murders that the Ministry had labelled "incidental and unlinked", but experiencing it up close was very different from reading about it. Fleetingly he wondered if the Daily Prophet would continue its chosen path of squashing all rumours about Voldemort's return and lie about this attack as well.

Well, no matter what they wrote tomorrow at least Harry and his friends knew otherwise. Today he'd actually witnessed this evil up close and he felt incredibly guilty about it all. No matter how many times someone told him it wasn't his fault, Harry knew that essentially it really was his mistake to bear. His foolish wish to win the cup had compelled him to propose to Cedric that they'd share it. It had been his suggestion, and the stupidest suggestion he'd ever made!

And now Voldemort was back to his old murderous self, his Death Eaters were out wrecking havoc and death, and suddenly Neville was on the Dark Lord's list of people to terrorise and badger. Poor stumbling, fumbling Neville. He didn't deserve this at all.

Harry managed to avoid all conversations and as soon as the others had finished eating (Ron took his flaming time as usual) they headed back to the common room. Ron, clearly keen on cracking open a packet of freshly bought Sugar Quills suggested a game of Exploding Snap before bed, but Harry turned him down and made for the dormitories. He'd barely reached the staircase when the portrait swung open and a sombre looking Professor McGonagall climbed through.

She strode purposefully across the room, and turned to the crowd of curious Gryffindors.

"May I have your attention, please?" she requested unnecessarily seeing as the common room was dead silent and all eyes already on her.

"I'm sure you're all aware of the unfortunate incident in Hogsmeade this afternoon," she began gravely. "It pains me to inform you that a wizard was brutally murdered today. Death Eaters unknown struck down and killed the proprietor of Gladrags with the Avada Kedavra curse, seemingly just because they felt like it. Our thoughts go to the family left behind."

Complete silence reigned. Everyone bowed their heads mournfully. Professor McGonagall surreptitiously wiped away some tears before she continued.

"It is also a sad day for Hogwarts and Gryffindor in particular, as one of our own was also affected in the attack. In the mayhem that followed fifth year Neville Longbottom was caught in crossfire and stunned. He's been transported to St. Mungo's Hospital where he most likely will be kept for the remainder of the year."

Gasps broke lose at this statement.

"What?" Ginny interrupted shocked. "Why? Couldn't they just revive him?"

Professor McGonagall shook her head sadly. "I'm afraid Mr. Longbottom hit his head rather badly at the impact and is currently suffering from a severe case of amnesia. He's under the best care at St. Mungo's and will return to school as soon as his memory has returned to normal."

She let her eyes travel over the shaken Gryffindors assembled in the common room. "I suggest you all retire to your dormitories early this evening," she suggested in a mild tone, looking and sounding very un-McGonagall like. "It's been a trying day for all of us and a bit of rest wouldn't go amiss, I'm sure."

The prefects with Hermione in the lead immediately began ushering the first and second years up to their respective dormitories, and little by little the older students followed suit. Ron and Harry dawdled behind hoping to get a few minutes of uninterrupted conversing before turning in. Hermione soon came running down the stairs from the girls' dormitories and joined them.

"Poor Neville," she exclaimed breathlessly. "He's always the unlucky one isn't he?"

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "But he didn't just get caught in the crossfire, like McGonagall said, did he? You all heard that Marvin fellow. He said the Death Eaters sought him out specially and started with that bizarre questioning. Wonder what that was all about?"

Ron looked every bit as confused as Harry. "Yet another mystery to add to our Hagrid-sized pile of unanswered questions I guess," he said dejectedly followed by a very long yawn.

"Ugh," Hermione said looking slightly repulsed. "An up close look at your tonsils was not an image I particularly wanted to take with me to bed."

"Really? What body part did you have in mind, then?" he asked innocently all the while waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Hermione's mouth dropped open and for about two seconds she looked thoroughly scandalized.

"Probably all of them," Harry muttered but thankfully none of them seemed to have heard him. He watched as Ron expertly took a step back to avoid Hermione's swinging fist from hitting his arm.

"Kind of freaky though, isn't it Harry, having Voldemort chase after someone other than you," Ron said arching an eyebrow. Hermione instantly stopped trying to maim him. Harry nodded. "Yeah it is. Poor guy, my heart goes out to him."

* * *

Even though Neville had never been a student you much noticed (except when he botched up the odd spell or potion), his absence from class was surprisingly noticeable. Harry even found it difficult to fall a sleep at night without Neville's soft snores to lull him to sleep.

But as the days passed most students grew accustomed to the empty bed and desk. Hermione kept asking Professor McGonagall for news on Neville's recovery almost daily but their head of house could little tell. After a while Hermione stopped inquiring, telling the boys that it just depressed her being told that Neville's state of health was still at a status quo.

"Better try to put it out of my mind," she said morosely, "and be pleasantly surprised with good tidings when least expected." Harry couldn't help but sort of agree with her reasoning and after that all thoughts of Neville Longbottom were pushed to the back of their minds.

*

All in all the weeks leading up to the Easter holidays were not the best they'd had that year. After the tragic attack on Hogsmeade their spirits had taken a slight beating. Harry once again lapsed into one of his trademark depressions blaming himself for Voldemort's return and all the terror that brought. Ron and Hermione, with the aid of Fred and George did their best to take his mind off things with endless invitations to chess games, OWL revisions or prank pulling. For brief moments at a time their efforts seemed to be working. Harry would crack a smile, share a joke or join Ron in his dirge against Hermione's revision schedules. But every time the sight of Neville's empty bed or desk would result in an instant setback.

Ron's vision of a fun and carefree Easter holiday was fading fast. Harry was acting glummer than the attic-ghoul at The Burrow these days, and naturally something had to happen to irk Hermione into a right state as well.

True to their agreement Ron had trooped up to the vulture-like librarian the day before the holiday began with the intent to pick up the books they'd ordered on prophecies. Hermione had been counting the days, and Ron was silently looking forward to presenting them to her, hoping an enthusiastic hug might come his way.

With thoughts of close bodily contact with Hermione on his mind, Ron was literally boogieing up to Madam Pince's desk accompanying his bop with shrill whistling. The librarian speared him with a most poisonous glare, clearly quite unimpressed with the show.

"This is a library, Mr. Weasley," she hissed harshly when Ron finally made it up to her desk, finishing off his performance with an ungraceful pirouette. "In libraries we read books, not skip around like lascivious goats in the spring."

Ron snickered despite himself and feeling quite daring, winked at the irritated book lover.

"Ah, come on Madam Pince," he said in a singsong voice. "Although I resent the goat-comparison, it is in fact virtually spring and I might be feeling quite randy for all you know."

Madam Pince gasped scandalously clutching her heart. "Honestly, Mr. Weasley! I should report that foul mouth of yours to your head of house! I believe she would be most unimpressed."

"I believe you're right," Ron answered cheekily. "But audacities aside, I'm here to pick up the books we've ordered for our Divination project. Helga Hufflepuff - Founder and Fortune teller" by Avril Smith and "A trip down memory lane: Prophecies long forgotten (and probably for good reason)" by Derek Fluff. Please procure!" Ron stretched out a freckly arm but Madam Pince made no move to retrieve their order.

"I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Weasley, but the books in question are regrettably not in stock at the moment." She was smiling most evilly, not looking sorry at all.

"What do you mean not in stock?" Ron hissed perplexedly mentally seeing the long awaited hug with Hermione disappearing into thin air.

"Not in stock means they're not available at the moment," explained Pince with thinly concealed patience. "According to the publishers those particular titles will not be available for another three months." She pushed her minuscule glasses up her beaky nose giving Ron a most haughty glare. "I suggest you and Mr. Potter make arrangements with Professor Trelawney to change your assignment."

Feeling a childish rage overtake him Ron rudely gave the librarian the finger before stomping out of the Library. He made a mental pact never to enter the blasted room again knowing of course that he'd break this promise the minute Hermione asked him to. No books meant no hug. But worse of all no books meant no bloody new leads to the Prophecy of the Strinx. Everything seemed to go against them this year.

Breaking the news to Hermione was the hardest part and as expected she did not take it in stride. Feeling as though her precious library had personally failed her, she stomped down to Madam Pince giving her, according to stunned witnesses, a piece of her mind. Naturally her rage didn't produce the books in question, and she returned to Gryffindor Tower half an hour later the air completely gone out of her and with a note saying she, along with Ron, was banned from the library for two whole weeks.

*

Despite his newfound glumness Harry still managed to continue contemplating who among them the betrayer could possibly be. After nearly five years at Hogwarts he now suddenly became aware of how very few students besides the ones in Gryffindor and fifth year he really knew. This fact made the process of finding potential suspects rather difficult.

As no new suspects had presented themselves lately, Harry decided to concentrate on the few loose ends he did have. This basically meant finding out why Charlie Weasley had been acting so peculiar lately. And seeing as he didn't particularly fancy walking up to Charlie and start a tedious interrogation Harry had to contend himself with some subtle spying.

After two weeks of intensely scrutinizing Charlie in class Harry was none the wiser. Professor Weasley was acting nothing but professor-like and Harry was beginning to think that perhaps the inkling he'd had earlier was uncalled for. And there was nothing that would please him more. He'd more or less given the whole thing up when Hermione made a passing comment one night at dinner that gave new fuel to his suspicions.

"I wonder where he's going every night," she said casually as she spooned mashed potatoes onto her plate.

"Who're you talking about?" Ron inquired (or at least that's what Harry thought he said; it was hard to tell with liberal amounts of half chewed pork chops threatening to escape his mouth).

"You definitively need to work on your table manners, Ronald," Hermione chided sternly. "Sorry 'bout that, mum," Ron answered tersely and Harry felt a most unwelcome bickering rise to the surface.

"Ignore the oaf," he said with a pointed look at his best friend. Ron scowled but made no comment, as he was too busy refilling his mouth with food. "What were you saying earlier?"

"I was just wondering where Charlie slips off to every night. He's been doing it for weeks now. As soon as the dinner plates are magically cleared and the desserts arrive he sneaks out of his seat and slips out that door right behind Professor Vector's chair. He's always looking over his shoulder and tiptoeing away like no one is supposed to notice." She snorted. "Honestly, you Weasleys are the most indiscreet people I have ever met. Who does he think he's fooling?"

"Don't know," Ron answered looking unconcerned with the whole thing. "Charlie's known for that sort of behaviour around our house. When he was younger mum never knew where he was or what he was up to. Always sneaking around, he was. Mind you, it usually was to tend to some creature or the other that mum wouldn't let into the house if her life depended on it."

He took a swig of his goblet of pumpkin juice, snickering somewhat. "I remember one time when mom found him harbouring a baby Hippogriff in dad's Muggle shed. If you thought that Howler I got in second year was bad, try adding to it tenfold and you'll get a rough idea at her reaction."

Hermione seemed to buy Ron's explanation and immediately launched into a long rant about how she hoped he wasn't crossbreeding dangerous creatures down in Hagrid's hut or something along those lines. She would probably have sprinted off to McGonagall with her suspicions if Ron hadn't managed to tick her off with an offhand comment about what a prissy prefect she'd turned into. Effectively tuning out their little "discussion" Harry decided to see what exactly Professor Weasley was tending to while other's enjoyed their pudding.

The next evening Harry was ready. He'd managed to ditch Ron and Hermione for a few minutes before History of Magic earlier that day and snuck down to the Great Hall for a spot of reconnaissance. With the exception of The Fat Friar hovering in a far corner busily trying to persuade the Grey Lady to accompany him on a float around the castle, the hall had been deserted. Feeling very much like a burglar preparing for a big heist, Harry tiptoed up behind the teachers' table and opened the door Hermione had pointed out the previous night. It opened without sound and with beating heart Harry slipped through.

He found himself standing in a dimly lit corridor, and knowing his time was scarce, he began trotting forward curious as to where it might lead. Barely a minute later Harry had run into a dead end. He'd seen no other doors or exit points on his way and feeling a hidden door was imminent, he began tapping on the brick wall in front of him. And voila, a minute later a sizeable hole in the wall turned translucent and Harry climbed through - and found himself behind one of the large sculptures that adorned the dungeon corridors.

The enormous sphinx-like statue effectively hid his appearance, and casting a glimpse of the wall behind him Harry noticed that he'd emerged from the door of a small castle in a huge painting. Clever, he thought admiringly and hurried off to History of Magic. But not clever enough, he'd be here this evening...

And this was exactly where Harry was now. After faking a stomachache he had under the pretence of going to bed, bid Ron and Hermione good night and rushed out of the Great Hall. He was now crouching behind one of the many stone sculptures, eyes firmly planted on the painting in question. And as expected the freckly face of Charlie Weasley materialized in the doorway just as the puddings were scheduled to arrive on the tables in the Great Hall. He stole a furtive glance over his shoulder and quickly scanned the nearest vicinity for prying eyes. Blissfully unaware of the fact that Harry's Omnioculars were recording every step he made, Charlie began trotting further down the corridor leading to the dungeon classrooms.

"What is it with you and dark, draughty dungeons," Harry muttered dolefully. "What are you up to, Weasley?"

Charlie skulked around a corner and began descending a set of steep stone steps. Harry followed at a safe distance, making sure to stay hidden in the dungeon corridors' liberally supplied shadows.

Every now and then Charlie would pause, leap into a shadow or alcove and secretively stare down the corridor behind him as if making sure no one was on his trail. There was something oddly nervous and jumpy about the professor's demeanour, and Harry's feeling that he was on to something not quite legal grew stronger with each passing second.

Eventually Charlie reached his intended destination. He paused outside a door, knocking carefully on it. That's the door to the Potions classroom, Harry realized with a jolt. Was he off to steal some illicit potion ingredients perhaps? Or was he meeting someone here? Could Charlie really be the betrayer or was he perhaps in conspiracy with someone?

The door to the classroom opened silently and Charlie slid inside, shutting the door firmly behind him. For the thousandth time that year Harry cursed the fact that he'd lost the Maurauder's Map the previous year. How was he supposed to find out what went on in there without it?

Having waited a few seconds just to make sure no one was around Harry emerged from his chosen shadow and walked over to the door. He put his ear to it straining to make out any sounds that might tell him what Charlie was doing there. At first he couldn't hear a damn thing. Clearly he's doing something he shouldn't Harry thought with heavy heart.

But then suddenly he made out a faint sound of - what could that be? It sounded kind of like Ron when he was enjoying a particular scrumptious treacle tart - a lot of smacking sounds and moans of delight. Had Charlie gone completely mental? But as suddenly as it started the sounds stopped. Harry's heart skipped a beat. Was Charlie on to him? Quick and soundless as a panther he sprinted a few meters down the corridor and threw himself behind a particularly nasty bust of Salazar Slytherin (For some reason there seemed to be an awful lot of those down here). He really should have taken the time to fetch his Invisibility cloak. Sneaking around without it was not at all easy!

As it turned out it hiding was a wise move because the Potion's door opened moments later and the stout figure of Charlie Weasley backed out of the doorway clutching a jar of what looked oddly like disembowelled salamanders.

"Thanks ever so much, Professor Delacour," Charlie said in an unnaturally loud voice. "This will definitely calm those Kelpies, they've been quite a handful lately." He stepped out into the corridor and Harry made out a long blond ponytail just behind Charlie's fiery red hair.

"Don't menzion it, Professor," Fleur said in her unmistakeable French tone of voice. "I'll be happy to brew up zome more for you if it zhould be nezazary."

"Brilliant!" Charlie boomed waving energetically at the part-Veela before trotting down the corridor. As he passed Harry's hideout, he could have sworn Charlie cast a peeved look in his direction. Harry waited until Charlie was safely out of sight before he climbed the many stairs back to Gryffindor Tower.

And as he stripped out of his robes and sought out a clean pyjama, Harry felt oddly happy. He felt it was safe to assume that Charlie was in the clear. Obviously the peculiar behaviour they'd seem on occasion was more due to embarrassment that he had to turn to Calming Potions now and then to handle the Magical Beasts he presented in class. Probably some kind of professional pride, Harry thought sleepily and for the first time in months he slept the whole night without nightmares.

*

Ron, completely unaware of the private investigation Harry had going on his brother, had spent every available moment in the weeks following the Hogsmeade attack scrutinizing a few of his own personal top-candidates for the traitorous spy of the year award. Just because Hermione didn't believe they weren't two-timings bastards didn't mean it was so. One of these days she was bound to be wrong, statistically anyway.

Esteemed member of the Order of the Phoenix aside, Snape was still Ron's top choice by default. Until proven otherwise he would maintain this attitude to his dying day! Bloody greasy grouch!

But should someone per chance accidentally slip a few drops of Veritaserum into Ron's goblet and started questioning him about the depths of his distrust to the hated Potions Master, Ron's truthful answer might surprise them.

Harry's tales of Snape's contribution to the fight against Voldemort had in fact made an impact on his previously so adamant claim that Snape was evil personified. Having the former Death Eater on top of his guys-to-hate list was more out of old habit than anything else these days - and to irk Hermione, naturally.

But even if Ron had truly suspected Snape to be the culprit, spying on him would be next to impossible anyway. He had therefore wisely forgone the idea of trailing the cruel git and had instead made the chief decision to divide his attention between his two runners up, namely Draco Malfoy and Max Strober.

Given Hermione's reluctance to accept neither Malfoy nor Mad-Max as likely suspects, Ron had decided to keep her in the dark for the time being. And given Harry's gloomy demeanour the past weeks, Ron hadn't been particularly keen to include him either. "I'm just doing some early reconnaissance anyway," Ron argued defensively every time his guilty conscience started eating away at him.

Presently he was busy tiptoeing after Max up the winding staircases leading to the Owlery. This was the third time in less than two weeks that Ron had spotted him sneaking up here in the dusk.

"Not sending off letters to your dear old Mutter und Vater, are you?" Ron muttered scathingly as he watched the German slip through the door. Immediately loud hooting and frantic rustling of wings broke loose and shaking his head Ron heard the tosser trying and failing to shush the indignant birds to silence.

"I should bloody well hex him good for cruelty to animals," Ron muttered under his breath as he distinctly made out feeble and clearly distressed hoots coming from Pig. He fought down an overwhelming urge to storm in there and send off some of the crueller curses in his repertoire on that good-for-nothing pet-torturer for upsetting his precious owl. Ron didn't show it much but in truth he was extremely fond of the minute, twittering bird and to think that this bumbling fool were upsetting the little feathery twit were almost more than he could take.

Fortunately for his mission, Ron managed to control his emotions. Still fuming he pussyfooted over to the door to get a better idea about what was going on in there. Max had left it standing slightly ajar. Ron peered inside and saw the exact same scene play out before him as the two previous times he'd followed him up here.

Max was twittering around the Owlery presumably searching for a fitting owl, all the while casting surreptitious glances over his shoulder. Having settled for a large tawny he fumblingly procured a parchment from within his robes. Like the other times Ron had followed Max to the Owlery, Max now took his time to carefully read through the letter, muttering inaudibly to himself as he did so.

At one time he pulled out his wand and erased something. A second later he acquired a quill and added a few lines. Though Ron thought he could give a pretty accurate guess to the contents of these letters as well as the receiver, nothing Max ever did in the Owlery gave him any proof to back up his suspicions. All he had was circumstantial and Ron knew it.

Since Ron had started paying closer attention to Max, his whereabouts and whom he hung out with, he'd been surprised to notice that the German dimwit somehow always managed to stay in an alarmingly close proximity to Harry. He was never farther than five seats away from him at the Gryffindor table and could always be found doing his homework and assignments on the table next to the one Hermione, Harry and he usually occupied in the common room. And at Quidditch practise Ron had noticed that the Keeper more often than not had his attention focused on Harry and his Seeker-workout rather than his own performance in front of the hoops.

Everywhere Ron turned these days Max would be found hovering suspiciously close by. Needless to say he found all this oddly peculiar and too much to be just incidental. But still he wouldn't mind some solid proof to back up his claim that Max was in fact, however subtly, keeping a close tab on Harry.

"I need a sodding Magnifying Charm, that's what I need," Ron muttered impatiently. Max was now holding the parchment up to the light in order to read and if only Ron had the good grace to pay attention in Charms when they'd covered sowing related spells last term he would've had a good shot at reading parts of Max's letter. "Better read up on that till next time," he mumbled as he watched Max fold up the parchment and nervously tie it to the leg of his chosen owl. "Hermione will probably force us to memorize the whole bloody charms book anyway. Might as well get a head start..."

Expecting Max to leave the Owlery shortly Ron dashed across the hall and hid behind an old wooden barrel. Seconds later a loud crash could be heard from behind the door and Ron heard Max bellow what he assumed was a string of very nasty German curse words.

"Scheiße! Verdammte winzige Eule!"

"You don't say?" Ron muttered. Frantic flapping of wings and loud indignant hoots could be heard from the Owlery. "And so gifted with animals too," he added sarcastically.

The door suddenly burst open and a twittering lump of feathers the size of a tennis ball came spiralling through.

"Pig!" Ron shouted without thinking. Luckily his outburst was drowned in the continuous sound of German gibberish pouring out the door. But even if Max had missed Ron's brash yell, Pig had not. The minute owl let out a series of very happy sounding hoots and flew giddily towards him.

"No you stupid feathery git," Ron hissed at his bird but the command was totally lost on the enthusiastic owl. Clearly mistaking Ron's flailing arms and shaking head as an open invitation for a cuddle, Pigwigeon dived straight for his master's head. "Bloody bird will blow my cover," Ron garbled frantically with a quick anxious glance at the Owlery door, but Max had not yet left the room.

"Come here you brainless show-off!"

Leaping out from behind the barrel he quickly snatched the elfin owl in midair and dove back, a squeaking Pig clutched firmly in his freckled hands. "Shut your effing beak," he mumbled pleadingly stuffing his index finger into his beak in a desperate attempt to silence the hyperactive bird. Painful as it was, it luckily did the trick and seconds later Max fell out the door, completely covered in feathers and followed by angry owl hoots. Still spluttering and fuming in German, Max practically ran down the stairs. Finally the sound of his voice ebbed out and Ron emerged from his makeshift hideout, a joyful-looking Pig still locked to his forefinger.

"Close call, huh Pig?" Ron whispered in relief wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. "But let's just get one thing straight little bird: nibbling on my fingers will not be tolerated in the future." Pig hooted happily and promptly began pecking with feverish at Ron's left thumb.

"Dim, deaf and deranged," Ron exclaimed despairingly, swatting Pig dejectedly over the wings. "Everything I own is bloody rubbish, no doubt about that..."

* * *

As neither Ron nor Harry's hunt for evidence against possible spy suspects had proved especially fruitful so far, they both decided to keep their suspicions private for the time being. Knowing perfectly well that any discussion of what-ifs or questionable presumptive evidence would be frowned upon and rejected by Hermione, neither boy chanced approaching her with their beliefs. She would simply pick their case apart with rational explanations and logical reasoning, and none of them were especially eager to debate and dispute this with the brainiest chick at Hogwarts.

Besides, the before mentioned brainy chick had recently moved into a frantic overdrive having discovered that the OWL examinations were "just around the corner" and was presently unresponsive to any topic of conversation that didn't in any way relate to schoolwork.

Hermione had on the first day of the Easter holiday, without any warning, bobbed down the stairs from her dormitory completely weighed down by monstrous tomes, multiple scrolls of parchment and some scary-looking charts. She'd summoned Harry and Ron with such an air of sternness that neither dared refuse her and promptly begun organizing an extensive revision schedule for them to follow.

Her eyes had shone with such manic determination that not even Ron had dared to utter the standard reply he always gave whenever Hermione began fretting about revisions ("But the OWLs are months away, we've got ages!"). She had them trapped for half a day doing practise essays for History of Magic and Harry still cringed just thinking about it.

Ron and he had luckily managed to sneak off as soon as Hermione had started colour-coding her meticulous notes from Binns' class lectures. She'd been so engrossed in her work that it took almost three hours before she noticed that they'd done a runner. Needless to say she'd been less than pleased with their lack of studiousness.

A week later Hermione's OWL obsession had reached epic proportions and Harry was seriously considering talking to McGonagall about having her committed to St.Mungo's if her revision-mania didn't subside soon. If she were to continue in this pace, there would be no sanity left in the poor girl come June and then all her studying would've been for nothing.

Hermione's ambition to perform spectacularly on her exams wouldn't have been a problem really if she'd simply contend herself to her own achievement. But for reasons beyond Harry's comprehension her ambition also seemed to include his and Ron's results. She was constantly breathing down their necks, checking their progress and proofreading mock tests especially composed for their learning benefit only.

Normally Harry and Ron humoured her by applying themselves for a few hours and then skirt off, hiding out in empty classrooms playing chess or exploding snap or mocking around on the Quidditch pitch. The punishment for these precious hours of relaxation and fun were always sharp verbal lashings from Hermione as soon as they appeared in the portrait hole, and always ended with her and Ron storming of in a huff having bickered and squabbled for an hour or so.

Yesterday evening Hermione had simply broke down in tears when Ron had thrown a particularly nasty comment her way, and Harry knew it was probably because Ron felt guilty as hell that they now could be found in the farthest corner of the library pouring over stacks of practise exams for Transfiguration.

It had taken Hermione a while to persuade Ron to step foot into the library again. He was still rather peeved with Madam Pince for screwing up the order on those prophecy-books and as they scurried past her desk he made some very rude gestures in her direction. Madam Pince had looked fit to kill and if Hermione hadn't had the good sense to grab hold of Ron's tie and drag him away into the maze of bookshelves thus hiding their whereabouts to the seething librarian, Ron would probably at this precise moment be serving a detention. Instead he found himself being pushed rather violently down into a wooden chair by one very irritated looking Hermione Granger.

"Honestly, Ron!" Hermione whispered shrilly as she handed out an eighteen-paged practice exam and pointedly ignored the devastated looks the boys was giving her as they reluctantly accepted the heavy parchment.

"One shouldn't believe you'd just turned sixteen," she continued in a huff when Ron offered no word of apology for his actions. "When pray tell do you plan on maturing even a smidge?"

Ron was staring sadly at the comprehensive exam in front of him, hesitantly turning the first page over.

"Could you possibly manage to reduce your handwriting a bit more, 'Mione," he asked innocently ignoring her initial question. "I mean, I can actually read this without squinting or resort to Magnifying Charms." He grinned widely. "Shave half a millimetre of your handwriting and I'm sure you could've fitted at least two more questions per page."

Hermione glared at him, but offered no comment. Harry pretended to be busy unscrewing the lid of his inkbottle to avoid breaking out in titters.

"Witty," said Hermione sarcastically and haughtily tossed her hair back before taking a seat. "But seeing as you're so worried about there not being enough questions you can both look forward to an oral quiz as soon as you've finished with the practice paper. You have one hour to complete it starting now. Better get a move on!"

She smiled almost evilly as Harry and Ron began moaning and groaning loudly in frustration. Serves them right, she thought irritably. They hadn't been applying themselves at all lately and with the OWLs looming over them just weeks away it was high time they started doing some serious revising.

They'll thank you afterwards, she thought comfortingly, mentally picturing how she'd bask in their gratefulness when the whole thing was over.

Unfortunately it didn't seem like the seriousness of the OWLs had quite sunk in with one Ronald Weasley. Just twenty minutes later Hermione glanced up from the very riveting chapter on Greg the Ghastly's failed attempt to start a House Elf rebellion in the fifteenth century and to her utter dismay found Ron performing what looked to be dismal attempts at origami.

Not only were the origami extremely poorly done but it also involved several parchments of her carefully constructed practice exam. The redhead was in such a state of concentration that he completely missed Hermione practically breathing fire down his neck in pure fury. Harry however had noticed but could little do to alert Ron of the impending danger.

"That's pretty," Hermione said sweetly only inches from Ron's ear. Despite the fact that she was practically whispering Ron jumped so high in his chair one should've thought someone had put a trumpet to his ear and blown hard and long into it.

"Oh, eh, Hermione didn't see you there," he stuttered embarrassedly and futilely tried to hide the masterpiece under the table.

"Oh but you shouldn't conceal such beauty," Hermione continued silkily and despite (or perhaps because of) her sweet tone of voice Ron instantly knew he was in trouble. Big trouble.

"Eh," he began clearly at a loss for words but Hermione yanked the "art" out of his hands and held it out in front of her between two fingers as if it was a piece of filth. "How could you?" she asked, her voice finally starting to sound more like the angry Hermione Ron was expecting to reprimand him. The calm and serene version had quite frankly scared him shitless.

"Here I devote hours of my own precious study time to create exams for you to practice and what do you do?" She was seething and Ron didn't even have a chance to put in a word in his defence. Not that it would've mattered much, Harry thought resignedly. Lame excuses from Ron would only make things worse, anyway.

"Is this how you choose to repay my effort?"

She stared dubiously at the shapeless lump of parchment in her hands. Hermione was looking frightfully angry at this point and Harry, who'd also been taking a break from her extensive paper (though had obviously done so in a much more discreet manner), tried futilely to slink away from the table. Hermione however spotted him in time.

"Stay right where you are, Harry!" she crowed heatedly and he immediately sank back into his seat. For obvious reasons he felt oddly whipped, and that was not a feeling he particularly liked. Beside him Hermione was continuing verbally bashing a very red-faced and annoyed-looking Ron.

"I can't believe this is the way you repay my efforts - by purposely vandalizing this parchment into this unrecognisable...thing?"

"Actually, it's supposed to be a Knarl, but I guess some people aren't that familiar with all the magical creatures around," Ron interrupted irately.

Hermione cast the lump yet a reproachful look and snorted arrogantly. Harry could definitely see her point. Not that he'd ever seen a Knarl up front, but he was still pretty sure it looked nothing like the disfigured paper ball of Ron's.

"Sure, make fun of my handiwork," Ron retorted offended. "But for your information, professor, I was simply taking a small break having finished the questions on this particular parchment. He snatched the Knarl-ish page in question from Hermione's grip and waved it in front of her face to emphasize his point.

She snorted once more. "Like I actually believe that lame excuse of yours. You're always putting off schoolwork, procrastinating and leaving everything to the last minute. Still you whine about not getting good enough marks and that your mother's always on your case to be more like Percy. Honestly, if I hadn't bothered nagging you half to death every day of the year you'd probably be repeating third year as we speak!"

Oh my, Harry thought with concern. Ron might not be the most studious of blokes, but he had a decent enough head on his shoulders (how else could one explain his brilliance at chess?) and would certainly had scraped through both third and fourth year even without applying himself much.

"Poor, struggling Hermione," Ron hissed venomously clearly feeling less charitable towards his crush after Hermione's spiteful words. "Not only must she memorize every bloody book in the library, terrorise fellow students with her Prefect badge, bully and torment frightened house-elves into deals they don't even want, but she also has to spend half her day pestering her good-for-nothing friend to do his homework. You expect me to simply fall apart without you by my side, don't you?"

Hermione was now sporting a very unbecoming purple tinge to her cheeks and Harry had a distinct feeling he should be somewhere else right now if he valued his health. Unfortunately means of escape were none-existing.

"That was not what I meant," she hissed icily. "I was simply trying to make you realize that I spent a huge amount of time trying to do something helpful for you and now I'm sitting here watching my effort being turned into poorly shaped Knarls. That is kind of discouraging seeing as I hardly slept a wink last night finishing it!"

"And as I've been trying to tell you if you'd just stop ranting for a blasted second," Ron yelled in open frustration setting of a wave of hushing sounds from the nearby tables. "I have completed the seven first pages and was simply taking a small break to collect my thoughts!"

Harry snickered into his textbook knowing full well that Ron never partook in any form of thought collecting. If he'd done that he wouldn't be Ron, now would he?

"Besides," Ron continued before Hermione had a chance to begin chastising him again, "I don't hear you going off at Harry. He's been doodling on his parchment the last ten minutes, you know." He shot Harry a sideways look as if to say that's what you get for snickering at me, and Harry glared back. He wasn't especially keen on a heated discussion about the reasons for his lack of concentration right now.

Hermione however didn't appear to have heard Ron's revelation about Harry's crime, or if she did she'd chosen to ignore it giving Ron her full attention.

"Why do I even bother with you?" she asked half screaming flailing her arms frustrated in the air. "You're obviously never going to change, at least not until you've failed spectacularly on the OWLs."

"What makes you so sure I'll fail?" Ron roared his face so red Harry was unable to make out his freckles. "Because you're a lazy git!" Hermione bellowed back. Harry wanted to curl up and hide. This was just so embarrassing. He shrugged apologetically to the group of sixth year Ravenclaws that where now demonstratively packing up their things and casting livid looks at the bawling duo.

"But if you know I'm a lazy git and I'm destined to fail, that why on earth do you spend so much time pestering me and concocting intensely long practice exams?"

"Because I love you and want you to do well!!"

The silence following Hermione's out of control admission was deafening.

Ron was gaping openly, a mix of shock and stunned disbelief plastered all over his face. And even though Harry knew fully well how Hermione felt about Ron it was still odd to hear her actually say it out loud. Truthfully he hadn't expected this to be revealed in the library of all places and certainly not in the presence of so many witnesses. The fact that she'd screamed it though seemed oddly fitting.

A quick look at Hermione told Harry that she'd just realized what she'd said. For a few very long seconds she was rooted to the spot, and if it weren't for the fact that he could see her eyes blinking once in a while, Harry would've thought she'd been Petrified again. Suddenly however she snapped out of her daze and immediately began gathering her books and parchments, hastily shoving them into her book bag. She was talking very fast as she did this, steadfastly avoiding their gazes.

"I mean, we've been through a lot, the three of us and I love you very much. Both of you, that is. It's perfectly natural to love your friends and I'd just hate to see us separated because of schoolwork or failed exams..." She drew a sharp breath and with much difficulty hoisted the bag onto her shoulder.

"Goodness knows there are too many other things that can pull us apart..."

The last sentence came out a mere whisper but Harry heard it loud and clear. Ron opened his mouth but nothing came out and Hermione took advantage of his muteness and escaped the premises at a remarkable pace.

Harry cleared his throat and sank back in his chair staring pointedly at Ron, his most annoying "I-told-you-so look" plastered all over his face.

"Don't say a word, Potter," Ron growled threateningly. Harry complied, but to Ron's dismay he insisted on wearing the broadest smirk imaginable the rest of the day.

* * *

Easter Sunday turned out to be the sunniest day Harry could remember. The snow had begun thawing, and the first snowdrops had even sprouted. The wind was blessedly warm and held a definite promise of coming spring. All in all it was a lovely day, or at least it would have been thought Harry sourly, if Max bloody Strober would just shrivel up and die already!

Hermione and Ron had recovered from the awkward library incident surprisingly fast much to Harry's delight. But with nearly five years of practical experience brawling and making-up, Harry thought it was about time they learned how to resolve these episodes in a swifter manner.

And so given that the Clerk of the Weather had blessed them with a beautiful day like this, they'd pinched a wheelbarrow from one of Filch's cupboards and wheeled all of Hermione's books outside for an al fresco study session. She'd trotted behind them down the corridors fretting anxiously over the fact that they were breaking eleven school rules, but seemed to have cooled down considerably after they'd settled down by the lake. In fact she looked extremely content, Harry noted with a small grin, sitting next to Ron comparing notes on Herbology.

He amused himself for a while, spying on them over the top of his History of Magic book. Every now and then Hermione would point out something to Ron on the parchment in front of them and accidentally brush his hand in the process. Ron's ears had been permanently red the past half hour, and judging by the glazed look on his face Harry seriously doubted he'd heard a single word Hermione had told him all day.

Harry's day would have been quite enjoyable too if it weren't for the sickening display further down the shoreline. Turning his head slightly he caught sight of a wave of red curls blowing softly in the breeze. Don't look, he admonished sternly, tightening the grip on his book and forcing his eyes back to the all but fascinating text on yet another Goblin rebellion.

But it was no good. For a fleeting moment Harry considered charming his eyes so they wouldn't leave the book, but he quickly dismissed that notion. He'd go mad in about ten seconds anyway.

Pretending to search for a book Harry staggered over to Hermione's still overloaded wheelbarrow and began picking up titles at random. Standing there he had a perfect view of the most heartbreaking sight he'd ever seen: Max Strober and Ginny Weasley were sitting huddled close together, giggling over a stack of parchments. Supposedly it was a tutoring session, but watching them break into yet another laughing fit, Harry wasn't so sure he believed that to be the whole truth.

Ron had almost lost his grip on the wheelbarrow when he caught sight of his sister snuggling up to the dickhead and if Hermione hadn't been so quick on the uptake and disarmed him with a quick "Expelliarmus", Max would probably be lying in the infirmary at this very moment nursing extensive bruising if not worse.

"Why did you do that," Ron had yelled angrily at Hermione as she picked up his wand and pocketed it. "And give me back my wand this instant."

Hermione had simply brushed her hair back importantly and shot Ron a reproachful look.

"As you might remember, Ronald," she said with an icy edge to her voice, "I am a Prefect and one of my sworn duties is to prevent that situations like this get out of hand. It is, as you know perfectly well, not allowed to hex a fellow student simply because you don't like him."

She sat down on a recently conjured blanket and patted the spot next to her, indicating that Ron should sit down. Sputtering and mumbling profanities under his breath, no doubt directed at the smarmy Max, he dropped down beside her. Hermione gave him an approving nod.

"Besides, it's nothing to get so worked up over anyway," she said comfortingly, winking cheekily at Harry behind Ron's back.

Though Harry had never breathed a word to her about his recently discovered feelings for the youngest Weasley, he still had a gut wrenching feeling that Hermione knew exactly what went on inside his head. He shot her a poisonous glare, wordlessly telling her not to say anything around Ron. Not that he was particularly worried. Hermione knew perfectly well that he'd retaliate in seconds, disclosing certain things to Ron.

Ron made a loud snorting sound. "Nothing to worry about? My little sister is more or less perched on some pervy seventh year's lap and I'm supposed to be cool about it?" He shot Hermione an incredulous look.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, Ron," she said with feeling. "Max has sportingly offered to tutor Ginny in Transfiguration, nothing more nothing less. She was having some problems with one of the Switching Charms and although I normally try to give some helpful pointers, I've been swamped lately and haven't had a second to spare for tutorials."

"Oh yeah, tutoring," Ron snorted sarcastically with another venomous glare in Ginny and Max's direction. "I'm sure he's a wonderful tutor. Probably very gifted in the subtle art of tongue sucking and love-bites. I'm more than a little tempted to write a lengthy letter to mum about this. She'll probably send the git a Howler to rival the one I got in second year. That'll teach him to mess around with young, impressionable girls..."

He was clearly about to jump to his feet again, but Hermione grabbed hold of his robes and yanked him back into a sitting position. "Now don't be a git," she chided but Harry could have sworn he saw her fighting back a small smile. She thrust a stack of meticulously compiled notes in his lap and scooted closer to him. "I believe we came down here to study Herbology, not spy on your sister. You're the one who's requested a run-through of this term's Herbology-notes, so let's get to it!"

It had taken less than five minutes for Ron to forget all about the stomach-turning tutorial. Harry however was not so lucky. After almost an hour of futile attempts to finish the chapter he was reading, he gave up. Without so much as a look in Ginny's direction he gathered his books and quills and shoved it forcefully into his book bag. He scampered to his feet and Hermione shot him a questioning look.

"Are you leaving already? We've only been here about an hour! I thought you had several chapters to read. You can't possibly have finished already?"

Harry shook his head. "No, but I can't concentrate here." He blushed. Please don't ask why I can't concentrate, he thought feverishly. Hermione arched an eyebrow knowingly but didn't say anything.

"Eh, I think I'll head back to the castle," Harry said much too casually and Ron stared at him disbelievingly.

"Why would you rather be inside a mouldy cold castle when you can be outside in the sunshine?"

"Eh," Harry said again at total loss.

"You're thinking about the meeting tonight, aren't you?" Hermione asked matter-of-factly with yet another wink.

"Eh, yeah that's right," stammered Harry.

"Oh blimey, Harry I totally forgot there's another Order of the Phoenix meeting tonight," Ron exclaimed at tad too loudly making both Harry and Hermione shush at him.

"Not so loud," Hermione hissed and Ron hurriedly threw his hands apologetically up in the air.

"Sorry," he muttered sheepishly but at least he didn't ask any further questions.

Harry gave them a half-hearted wave and began trotting back towards the school. I'm not going to look back, he told himself sternly picking up the pace. But in the end he couldn't resist casting a quick look over his shoulder. Immediately he regretted it.

Ron and Hermione had unsurprisingly returned to their notes and seemed oblivious to the outside world. They didn't seem to be missing Harry in the slightest. And as depressing as that realization was it was nothing compared to the sight that awaited him a bit further down the shore. In the shadows of a huge birch Ginny and Max were kissing passionately, their Transfiguration books forgotten on the ground.

The air around Harry had seemingly vanished, because as he continued watching them kiss (Ginny had by now crawled into Max's lap and he had his arms around her waist) it was getting harder and harder to breathe. He was clearly suffocating but it didn't really matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

Harry sank to his knees, still gasping and heaving for oxygen. He quickly hid his face in his hands, unwilling as he was to continue looking at the nauseating scene.

Knowing perfectly well that he should get up and find somewhere less public for this heartbroken collapse, he couldn't seem to work his feet. Naturally someone had to come walking up the path at this precise minute. Harry heard the footsteps coming nearer and nearer and he was almost certain it was Hermione or Ron. But to his surprise he realized he didn't much care if they saw him in this state. It didn't matter - nothing mattered anymore.

The footsteps came to a halt right beside him, and he could feel eyes on his back. "Please Obliviate me," he croaked out hoarsely his mouth completely covered in his robes.

"Why would I do that?" asked a girl's voice curiously and Harry's head whipped up immediately.

* * *

"Could I have your attention please? If everyone would be so kind as to find a chair and settle down, this meeting can commence."

The slightly agitated voice of Professor McGonagall was futilely trying to drown out the loud gabble that filled the Grand Conference Room. Dumbledore had called another meeting in the Order of the Phoenix and tonight's gathering showed the largest turnout to date.

When Harry arrived the room was already full of witches and wizards, most of them engaged in animated discussions. Having still not fully recovered from the nasty shock of seeing Ginny snog Max down by the lake, his mood wasn't particularly open to intense socializing. He'd therefore chosen a seat down at the very end of the table and was currently pretending to read a day old copy of the Daily Prophet that he'd nicked out of Goyle's bag during Potions earlier that afternoon (that baboon probably couldn't read anyway).

Gloomy as his spirits were, he still couldn't help but smile a little as he watched McGonagall throw her hands up in the air in pure frustration when no one appeared to take any notice of her polite plea for attention. Out of earshot as he was, Harry couldn't be sure but it looked suspiciously like she was muttering a few near profanities under her breath as she stalked over to Professor Dumbledore clearly looking for help with the uncontrollable mass that was the Order.

Harry let his eyes wander around the room for a moment while he waited for the Headmaster to intervene and get this show on the road. The Weasleys were all present and accounted for as usual. Mrs. Weasley looked a little under the weather, Harry noticed. He could clearly make out heavy bags under her eyes and her complexion, though always on the pale side, appeared more pallid and wan than he thought healthy.

By comparison Mr. Weasley looked like an advertisement for ginseng or the like, though he too was looking a little worse for wear. But while Mrs. Weasley looked tired and sombre, his mood was positively chipper. This however was most likely closely connected to the fact that the wizard he was talking to (a rather scruffy looking fellow Harry didn't know though he had a distinct feeling he'd seen him somewhere before) had just presented him with what appeared to be a Muggle electric shaver.

A little way back Charlie and Hagrid was engrossed in a heated discussion about the proper way to control Chinese Fireballs during mating season, with Bill as an amused bystander. To their immediate left Madam Maxime's impressive frame was perched on a ridiculously small chair and she appeared to be telling the scornful Mr. Diggle something or the other. He had a look of utmost disinterest firmly etched on his face, and kept sending Dumbledore and McGonagall some rather imploring looks obviously eager for the meeting to get started. The half-giantess hadn't noticed Mr. Diggle's lackadaisical attitude, or perhaps Harry thought with a half-smile, she was purposefully torturing him.

Remus Lupin had so far wandered calmly among the members without participating actively in any of the discussions. In the end he'd approached Percy, who like Harry, had already taken a seat and was busily browsing through a stack of parchments carefully laid out in front of him. Lupin's friendly attempt at a conversation didn't look too successful Harry noticed with a frown. Percy had glanced briefly at Lupin, given a curt nod and resumed his frantic reading. Lupin looked half amused; half offended by Percy's abrupt brush-off and shrugging he'd taken a seat at the table, though far away from the previous Head Boy.

"A Sickle for your thoughts," Sirius's voice whispered in Harry's ear making him jump in his seat. His godfather chuckled gleefully and slumped down next to Harry, leaning casually back in his chair and propping his feet up on the meticulously polished mahogany table. A generously sized lump of mud slid of the heel of his boots, and Harry was certain that he heard Percy sniff disapprovingly further down the table. Sirius however appeared unfazed by this.

"Or perhaps I should offer a full Galleon? Looks like it's something big you're brooding over." He sent his godson a mischievous smile. "May I inquire if it's Voldy or girly related?"

Harry gave him an incredulous look and Sirius chortled. "As if I'd tell you anyway you big git," Harry replied cheekily.

"Ah," Sirius answered knowingly and ruffled Harry's hair. "Who's the girl? Don't hold out on me, or I swear I'll be forced to give you The Talk. Is she pretty?"

"Funny, but I don't recall admitting either a) that I was brooding over something, or b) that it was girl related. For all you know it could be something about Voldemort, couldn't it?"

Still smiling Sirius shook his head. "Nope, can't fool me with clever diversions like that, o' wee one. Big furrow on your forehead like that has to be something big, but you'd tell me or Dumbledore about it if it was Voldemort."

He looked very smug Harry noticed as he wiped his nails over his robes and pretended to admire them proudly.

"You're extremely annoying, do you know that?" Harry asked through clenched teeth. Sirius sniggered. "Oh yes, I've been told that before actually, would you believe it? Now don't hold your poor old godfather in suspense: Who is she, and more importantly have you snogged her yet?"

Harry blushed at Sirius forwardness, and averted his eyes from the tittering guardian.

"No I haven't and I don't think it's likely to happen either," he finally answered. "Can we please drop it? I don't feel like taking about it."

And thankfully Sirius did as requested and they fell into a comfortable silence. No, Harry definitely didn't feel like talking about it. Not now. Not again.

As he watched McGonagall trot back to the head of the table, presumably to make another attempt at quietening the masses, Harry's mind wandered back to the events of the afternoon. Letting out a heartfelt sigh, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. It had definitely been a weird sort of day!

Outside Hogwarts castle, 13.14pm:

"Why do you want me to Obliviate you?"

That voice most definitely did not belong to Hermione Granger or Ron Weasley for that matter! Harry had never felt more embarrassed.

The yet unidentified (though clearly female) voice continued talking.

"That has to be the queerest request I've ever gotten, and with lengthy experience from three very strange brothers that's really saying something."

Realizing that he'd just made a complete fool of himself in front of this unknown girl, Harry cursed the wards that made Apparition impossible within Hogwarts Grounds. Not that he knew how to apparate per say, but still.

Reluctantly he removed his head from his hands and looked up at the girl that he seconds earlier had commanded to memory charm him. A pretty girl with brown curly hair and a very winning smile was looking down on him, seemingly halfway torn between amusement and wonder at what he was doing sprawled on the lawns like this.

"Do you often get the urge to have your memory altered? Don't take this the wrong way or anything, but that is kind of an odd thing to ask a passing girl."

She was chewing on her lip as she said this, clearly wanting to smile but not really sure if she should. Though suddenly her eyes shot up and her expression changed from mild amusement to embarrassment.

"Oh my wand, it's not another one of those odd fainting fits the Prophet kept writing about last year, is it?" She looked so awkward that Harry felt sorry for her. He staggered to his feet, dusted off his robes and shook his head.

"No, no fit this time," he said reassuringly and the girl's smile returned.

"Oh well, that's good I suppose. Though it's still a rather peculiar thing to be doing, lying around on the lawns like that, pleading passers by for memory alterations. But if I'm about to mess with your head, so to say I daresay some proper introductions are in order, don't you think? I'm Eloise Midgen, Ravenclaw sixth year."

She offered Harry her hand. "Harry Potter, Gryffindor fifth year," he replied automatically shaking her hand.

"You know, I actually knew that," Eloise said with a wink and Harry blushed. Of course she did. But come to think of it, the name Eloise Midgen wasn't totally unknown to him either.

"I've heard about you too," he blurted out and Eloise rolled her eyes. "Oh I'm sure you have," she said casually. "Not my brightest idea, trying to charm away my acne. My friends still keep asking me if I'd perhaps been sorted into Ravenclaw by mistake. I expect the rumours about my unfortunate mishap also reached the confined tower of Gryffindor?"

Harry nodded dumbly, he remembered someone mentioning that a couple of years ago, but for some reason that wasn't what he'd thought of. Hadn't Ron said something about an off-centre nose last year? Harry cast Eloise another look. No, there was definitely nothing wrong with her nose. It looked perfectly aligned to him and nothing else about her appearance was anything to frown about either.

Oh Fudge, Harry suddenly thought with alarm. Am I checking her out?

And it was no denying the fact that he obviously was. She was very pretty indeed, and something about the way she talked to him appealed to Harry. It was blessedly void of the usual response of either awe or disgust (depending on whether your loyalties lied with Dumbledore or Fudge), something that made a very pleasant change indeed.

"So," Eloise said looking simply curious now, "aren't you going to tell me which memory I supposedly am going to discard off?"

"No," Harry answered airily. Eloise arched an eyebrow and Harry couldn't help the huge smile that was forming. She was really cute when she did that. "No?" she asked incredulously. "Changed your mind about fiddling with the brain, have you?"

"Absolutely. Firstly because I have no proof that you're actually capable of performing such a complicated spell given your very shady charm's history (Eloise gasped mock-offended) and secondly if I had my memory altered there's always the risk that I'd loose my memory of you."

I can't believe I just said that!

Inwardly Harry was shocked and appalled by his own daring. Outwardly however he was grinning cheekily at his newly made friend only to have her blush furiously in return. When he strode up the many stairs to Gryffindor Tower a few minutes later, Harry was humming happily, quite pleased that he'd just had the balls to ask her out on a date next Hogsmeade Weekend (given that there actually would be one). It wasn't until now, sitting in Dumbledore's Conference Room waiting for the meeting to be called to order, that something had occurred to him.

Why exactly had he flirted so shamelessly with Eloise today? Would he done the same if he hadn't watched Ginny kissing Max just moments earlier? Was he perhaps only using Eloise to make Ginny jealous (if that could even be accomplished) or did he truly like her? After some soul-searching Harry concluded that it probably was a little of both that had made him act so totally out of character earlier this afternoon.

Yes, he definitely hoped that going out with Eloise would stir a reaction from Ginny, and yes he honestly did like Eloise. In fact he liked her very much. She was very beautiful, quite witty and best of all not the least bit intimidated by the fact that he was Harry Potter. Deciding that he had nothing to be ashamed off (he was a fifteen year old boy for crying out loud - he was supposed to date girls!), he pushed the topic out of his mind. And just in time it turned out.

McGonagall had finally managed to get everyone's attention (with the aid of the Sonorus Charm and a harsh verbal scolding) and the meeting could finally commence.

"Welcome yet again friends and allies," Dumbledore began with a smile and the room instantly fell to total silence. "We're gathered for another meeting of the Order of the Phoenix and I'm happy to say that we're still complete in number. Let's pray it'll stay that way." A low murmur of consent was accompanied by much nodding of heads.

"As I'm sure you're all aware of the unfortunate development in Voldemort-related incidents since our last congregation, a matter that will be discussed later on. On a happier note though, it gives me great pleasure to welcome yet another wizard to our resistance."

Dumbledore gestured down the table and instantly the giddy-looking man Harry had seen talking to Mr. Weasley broke into a wide grin and jumped to his feet while waving enthusiastically to the other members.

"I'm Dedalus Diggle," he squeaked piercingly and three seats further down the table the always grumpy-looking Orson Diggle shuddered in his seat. "I'm Orson's older brother," Dedalus informed proudly confirming Harry's suspicion that they were somehow related despite the obvious difference in spirits. Orson Diggle looked mortified and shook his head disbelievingly. Clearly the sibling love wasn't at its peak, Harry noted dryly.

"And a hearty welcome from all of us," Dumbledore said calmly signalling for Dedalus to sit down. "Now before we address the first item on the agenda, I would just like to remind you all that with Voldemort acting more boldly with each passing day, we need to act swifter, recruit more members willing to fight him, and last but not least concoct a plan to rid the world of this plague once and for all." The room was quiet as everyone was clearly absorbing the severity of their mission.

"We're terribly delayed as it is so I suggest we get down to business immediately," McGonagall broke in with a reproachful glare around the table. "First on the agenda is a report on Rubeus Hagrid and Madam Maxime's progress in the giant negotiations. Hagrid, the floor is yours."

Seeming to take McGonagall on her word, Hagrid jumped out of his chair so abruptly it toppled over and hit the floor with much sound.

"Thank yeh, professor Dumbledore sir," the half-giant boomed as he strode up to the head of the table. "Me an' Olympe are really proud teh announce teh yeh all that our mission has been a smashin' success!"

From her seat across the room Madam Maxime nodded in concord and excited whisperings immediately broke out.

"That is excellent news, Hagrid," Dumbledore commended heartily awarding the gamekeeper with a warm smile. Hagrid blushed crimson inside his huge beard. "Oh, it was nuthin' really," he answered modestly. Madam Maxime snorted incredulously fixing him with a disbelieving stare.

"Nathin' you zay?" she shrieked hotly and Hagrid had the good sense to look bashful. "Twize we were almozt decapitated by monzteruz lunatics, ze head-giant almozt zat on me at one point and they almost made you zeir dinner after you inzulted zeir favourite drink!"

Mr. Weasley and many with him were trying hard to hide their amusement as Hagrid launched into a bumbling explanation that quite frankly no one understood a word of. Mrs. Weasley however was trying to save the situation by swatting her husband sternly over the arm with her bag and soon he and the others titter tatters had wiped their grins away. But upon closer inspection Harry could still see Mr. Weasley's eyes shining with unleashed laughter.

Snape, who'd been sitting hunched in a corner the entire time all mute and sullen, sneered openly making Harry want to beat him over the head with his size two pewter cauldron. Esteemed member of the Order aside, Snape was still Harry's least favourite person in the world without contest, closely followed by that bastard Max...

A few minutes later Dumbledore had managed to calm down the very upset Hagrid enough for him to continue his report. Harry was pleased to learn that three herds of giants were now both eager and ready to take part in the fight against Lord Voldemort at the Order's command. Dumbledore yet again had to resort to firing colourful sparks out of his wand to calm the excited crowd.

"Does this mean you'll stay at Hogwarts from now on?" Harry asked hopefully just as Hagrid settled down in his upturned chair. "Yep, I'll take up me gameskeeping again," he said happily, beaming at Harry. "Charlie here will continue teaching Care of Magical Creatures for the remainder of the year though, don't see any point in changing teacher with so little left of the year anyway."

Harry had no objections to this. He was thrilled that Hagrid was back, but truthfully he did prefer Charlie's teaching methods.

"That was truly wonderful news, Hagrid," Dumbledore praised. "My hope is only that the rest of the meeting will bring us even more happy tidings. Perhaps you would enlighten us to what the next item on the agenda is, professor McGonagall?"

"Certainly," she replied evenly, adjusting her glasses slightly as she peered down on the parchment in front of her. "Percy Weasley, employee with the Ministry of Magic has asked for a few minutes of our time."

She gazed inquiringly at Percy who immediately began searching through his parchments while absentmindedly stroking a hand through his neatly combed hair. "Yes, thank you, professor for granting me a few seconds of our precious time together," he replied in that snooty Head Boy voice that Harry secretly had detested his entire third year. Once again he found himself utterly astonished by the fact that this boy actually was related to Ron, and even more unbelievable, the twins.

Gazing haughtily up the table, Percy cleared his throat. "During my work at the Ministry I've come across some rather startling information that I believe the Order should be alerted off." Noting that he now had everyone's undivided attention, Percy smiled smugly and continued his obviously pre-rehearsed speech.

"Just last week I accidentally overheard a most private conversation between two of the Ministry's Unspeakables about what appeared to be newly recruited Death Eaters. Not that the Ministry are openly admitting that the Death Eaters are still active nor that the Dark Lord has returned, far from it, but the Unspeakables have always been rather, well independent in their work. Not that they specifically said Death Eaters either but judging by the activities these people had engaged in it was pretty clear to me what club they'd just enrolled in."

"I believe that about the Unspeakables, they're not blinded by Fudge's position on this," Mr. Weasley injected with a nod. "I've had some vague conversations with Bode, one of the agents and he very discreetly confirmed that they're subtly looking into Death Eater activity if I interpreted him correctly."

He gave Percy a supportive look and the former Headboy smiled gratefully at his father before continuing his report.

"I must say the information I overheard literally threw me for a loop, and after making some discreet inquiries with an acquaintance in the Department of Mysteries, who by the way shall remain nameless for safety reasons, this was sadly confirmed. It appears that two of this Order's alleged supporters have changed sides so to speak, and are now working as spies for The Dark Lord."

Shocked gasps instantly echoed through the room. Spies, Harry thought dejectedly. This whole bloody year seemed to have revolved around nothing but spies and betrayers. Would there be anyone left in the end that he really could trust a hundred percent? Somehow Harry thought the odds of that were rather slim.

"Settle down, people," Dumbledore urged in his usual calm manner. "Nothing more will be revealed unless we can calm down enough for young Mr. Weasley to finish his report. Now Mr. Weasley, I'm sure you realize that to accuse someone of betrayal requires absolute evidence? If they should turn out innocent, a great wrong will have been done them by proclaiming disloyalty without proof."

"Yes, I do realize this," Percy said quickly, a frantic gleam suddenly lit in his eyes, "and that's why I'm not going to reveal the names here tonight. Instead I suggest that only professor Dumbledore will be notified of the suspects' identities until further inquires could be made. But I will say this; they are not present at this meeting. But that said I also suggest a heavy lid be laid on any sensitive information that'll be revealed her tonight. The other operatives should be alerted of news on a need to know basis only until we know more about the reliability of these persons."

"That's the wisest thing anyone's said all night!" Orson Diggle burst out angrily making poor Lupin jump in fright in the seat next to him. "In my opinion we've been far to loose with our information as it is, and I would also like to take this opportunity to address my heartfelt concern about some of the recruitments that have been made lately." He cast Sirius a sinister look, and Harry felt his godfather tense beside him.

"I assume you're referring to the recruitment of Marcus Flint and his boyfriend," he said icily returning the glare with fervour. "Still on about that, are you?"

"That's right, Black," Diggle spat furiously. "Just the notion of a former Slytherin supposedly working for the eradication of the Dark Lord is ludicrous! None of them are trustworthy; he's clearly in just to reap personal benefits. I know the Flints by reputation and there's no way any son of theirs would willingly aid Dumbledore and his followers. Their practically joined at the hip with Malfoy! I'm still deeply shocked and appalled that the Order had approved the use of these Neanderthals for our noble mission. I'll bet my bowler those two queers are the spies Weasley's talking about..."

"Hem hem!"

A sharp fake cough broke Orson Diggle off in mid-rant.

Harry had watched in silent disbelief as the very unlovable Diggle had thrown what could only be described as a massive tantrum trying desperately to slaughter what Harry personally believed to be Sirius and Lupin's most ingenious recruitment to date. It was therefore with some glee he noticed Snape getting to his feet and sauntering towards Diggle with a murderous look in his eyes.

"Unless," he began in a very calm and chilling voice that Harry, by experience, knew was a sign of nothing pleasant, "you're not fully informed on my background, Mr. Diggle, I think it's prudent for me to disclose some minor facts from my student years here at Hogwarts."

Bill and Charlie instantly pushed their chairs aside to allow Snape free space to loom over a spluttering Diggle.

"Do I shock you terribly Mr. Diggle when I reveal that I was sorted into Slytherin? Today I even serve as Head of Slytherin House. It would sadden me greatly if I found out that you didn't trust me, considering what I'm currently risking for this Order. Or," he asked in a deadly drawl, "do you perhaps think that I too am a spy for Voldemort?"

Still stuttering and mumbling profusely Orson Diggle at least had the good grace to look somewhat bashful. Embarrassed he slunk back in his chair and evaded Snape's ominous stare.

"You tell him, Snape old boy!" Sirius boomed in an uncharacteristically chummy manner and Harry couldn't help but stare disbelievingly at him. He wasn't the only one though; Snape himself looked flabbergasted for a moment, something Harry didn't know was possible. He'd never seen Snape looking publicly discomposed before and the sight was highly amusing.

"Well it's the first good thing the git's done all his life," Sirius whispered apologetically out of the corner of his mouth when he noticed Harry's disbelieving stare. "That Orson-prick has been a right pain in the arse!" True as it might be, Harry couldn't help but shake his head.

"Well seeing as you're already out and about," Professor McGonagall commented dryly with a nod in Snape's direction, "I suppose we could skip a few items ahead on the agenda. If you'd kindly give your report now it'll save you the trouble of skulking back and forth to your corner once more." She smiled sweetly at the Potions master and he gave her a curt nod.

"Certainly," he said stiffly backing away from the trembling Orson Diggle, straightening his robes and walking up to the head of the table.

"As you might gather judging by the fact that I've resumed my teaching here at the school, I have returned from my mission in Eastern-Europe. For those not acquainted with the purpose of my little study trip, I suggest you get someone else to recap it for you so that we can try to end this meeting at a respectable hour."

Dedalus Diggle looked slightly put out by this but smiled beamingly at Snape none the less. "My dear friend, Igor Karkaroff," Snape continued with a slight sarcasm to his voice, "have graciously agreed to continue the meticulous work of researching the entire Durmstrang restricted section in hope of finding any clues as to what Voldemort might be plotting. When I left to resume my position as Potions Master, we had little if nothing to go on. And I must confess that my faith in his abilities to even come up with a simple Cheering charm was less than hopeful. But surprise surprise, the old dog actually came through."

Excited murmurs instantly broke out. Clearly still more than a little miffed by the lack of respect the members showed for meeting protocol this evening, McGonagall banged her goblet forcefully on the table creating an insanely racket.

"I'd greatly appreciate if everyone would please hold their tongue while others are delivering a report," she said tartly glancing menacingly around the room. Everyone seemed to shrink in their seats under her reproachful stare reminding Harry of multiple Transfiguration classes he'd attended.

"Please continue, Severus," McGonagall said placidly. Snape gave a curt nod and resumed speaking.

"As you might remember I've been researching possible means to achieve immortality. It's no secret that The Dark Lord has been known to take an active interest in the subject. So far he's tried all the "common" ways, and with the ceremony last year including Potter's blood (he said this with a sneer), he's taken a grand leap towards his goal. But thankfully he's not quite there yet. Our hope is to find possible methods before he and his followers do."

The Grand conference room was still oddly silent. Clearly not expecting any comments at this point, Snape continued on his monologue. "Our hope of finding anything in the Durmstrang archive was slim to none, but we'd resolved to check it out anyway to be on the safe side. And thank god for that, because early this week Karkaroff stumbled across an ancient Greek text that revealed a forgotten recipe for immortality."

At this not even McGonagall's Antarctic glowering managed to repress the excitement among the members at this news.

"Golly! Really?" Dedalus Diggle shrieked. Mr. Weasley looked as though he'd discovered a shed full of Muggle appliances, the rest of the Order as though they'd stumbled across a great amount of Galleons. Even the obnoxious Orson Diggle looked slightly rumpled by the news.

"That is splendid news, Severus," Dumbledore praised and the chattering subsided somewhat. "Could you elaborate, please or is the information of such a sensitive character that it should remain secret at this point?"

Snape's lip curled into what Harry suspected was to resemble a smile. "I think it would be safest to keep it secret at this point, I'm not quite certain everyone present could be trusted." Harry could have sworn Snape shot him a particularly nasty glare, but before he had the chance to glower back, Snape had resumed speaking.

"I can tell you this however; in order to achieve immortality using this particular method, two things must be present. Firstly a potion of such complexity scarcely any living potions master possesses neither the skills nor the bravery to brew it accurately. Secondly a secret object is needed to serve as sort of a catalyst to kick-start the potion." Here Snape let out a small chuckle, apparently finding something about this funny. Harry couldn't for the life of him see what it could possible be.

"Some of the ingredients are extremely hard to come by and I've taken the liberty of tracing down all known as well as the more shady dealers in Knockturn Alley as well as other dodgy places around across Europe. The respectable dealers have all agreed to alert me if someone should approach them asking for these ingredients. Seeing as I don't expect the same favour from the others I've arranged for wards to be placed around their humble abodes. They'll go off the minute the ingredients in question are mentioned in any way."

Dedalus Diggle was practically bouncing merrily on the tip of his chair, grinning like a village idiot. "Bloody fantastic!" he blurted out in sheer enthusiasm. "But why do we need to know if anyone wants those ingredients exactly?"

Snape looked like he wanted to slap his forehead in pure frustration, but managed to keep his facial expression admiringly neutral. Dedalus's brother however didn't share the Potion Master's patience.

"You effing imbecile! The reason's as clear as glass for crying out loud! Whenever someone requests one or more of these particular, hard to come by ingredients, we trail them. If they perchance turn out to be Death Eaters it'll be safe to assume that You-Know-Who are in fact aware of and trying to use the method in order to secure himself immortality."

"That's correct," Snape intervened. "If so it'll be safe to assume that they're also looking for the secret object. We will of course do our best to limit the supply of these ingredients to a minimum by acquiring whatever we come by ourselves. A search has also been initiated for the object mentioned."

Dedalus Diggle was sporting the deepest blush Harry had ever seen, but nodded eagerly none the less. "Good plan," he muttered almost inaudibly making his snotty brother snort contemptuously a few seats down the table. Harry might agree that Dedalus appeared to be a bit on the dim side, but he certainly didn't deserve such open hostility from a family member. He resolved to show the poor Dedalus some interest before the next meeting.

The remaining items on the agenda were handled much swifter and an hour later Harry found himself comfortably seated in a deep armchair in Dumbledore's office nursing a huge cup of hot cocoa. Sirius was lounging on a sofa across from him, busily working his way down a small bottle of Odgen's Firewhiskey. Harry was filling his Godfather in on the everyday events of Hogwarts, some of which made Sirius launch into crazy tales of the Marauders' schooldays. Harry wished the evening would never end.

That was until Sirius once again broached the topic of girls.

"So Harry my lad," he began leisurely, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Tell your poor old godfather all about your love life. And by the wand of Merlin, do not try to deny that you have one, because no sane fifteen year old boy is immune to the female charms."

Harry was squirming in his seat, his cheeks crimson and eyes focused anywhere but on Sirius. Sirius apparently found Harry's discomfort immensely entertaining.

"So who's the girl?" he probed in what probably was meant to be an inviting tone of voice, taking another hearty sip of Firewhiskey. Knowing that there was no escaping, Harry decided to get this mortifying discussion over and done with.

"Girls," he muttered into his cocoa, making Sirius arch his eyebrows in pure surprise.

"Excuse me, what was that?" The look on his face was one of open disbelief and Harry couldn't help but grin.

"I said girls, as in more than one," he replied toothily. Sirius instantly broke into a loud guffaw.

"You're dating more than one girl? Are you mad? Take the word of a man who's tried that approach and drop one of them. Otherwise you're heading straight for the Hospital wing, you mark my words."

Rolling his eyes Harry snorted at Sirius. "I'm not dating multiple girls simultaneously you git. I'm not that stupid. But still there's kind of more than one girl in the picture if you know what I mean."

Harry then proceeded to tell Sirius all about his date with Eloise, his secret feelings for Ginny and how she was currently involved with a bloody German exchange student. Sirius listened intently without interruption, and when he was finished explaining his predicament he downed the last of his Firewhiskey and smiled weakly at his godson.

"It's not easy being a teenager, is it?" Harry shook his head in agreement. "All I can tell you is to follow you heart. Perhaps you should give this Eloise girl a chance seeing as Ginny isn't available at this point. If it doesn't work out, you just have to be honest with her and tell her straight out and not play with her feelings."

Harry nodded. That made sense, really.

Dumbledore suddenly appeared in the doorway signalling that it was time for Harry to head back to Gryffindor Tower and reluctantly he got to his feet. "Mind if I walk him back?" Sirius asked the headmaster. "As Snuffles naturally," he added hastily seeing Dumbledore's disbelieving look.

"I don't see how that could do any harm," he answered with a smile and the two Gryffindors more or less bounced towards the door. Sirius transformed before the reached the corridor and trotted happily beside Harry his tail waggling merrily in the air. They had a great time with Snuffles entertaining Harry to tears by urinating on Filch's door and playfully humping several disgruntle sounding suits of armour on their route.

In fact it was while Snuffles was busy trying to lick the portrait of a particularly pompous looking wizard they first noticed the peculiar figure lurking in the shadows at the end of the corridor.

"Who has the nerve to walk about at this hour with both teachers and Filch patrolling the castle?" Harry mumbled half to himself. Snuffles however appeared to have heard him, and turned his snout away from the by now almost scared looking portrait and sniffed the air. Seconds later he began growling menacingly, looking as though he wanted nothing more than to chew the stranger's leg off.

"What's with you," Harry ventured half curious, half agitated grabbing a firm hold of Snuffles fur just to be on the safe side. It would be most unwise for Sirius to attack a fellow student, dog form or not.

The next moment the stranger at the end of the corridor cried out "Locatius!" and a cold shiver ran down Harry's back. He knew that spell! It was the one the Dark Wizard Dobby had encountered on the New Years Ball had used. But that was not all that was familiar.

"Bloody broom, that's the person I've been dreaming about!" Harry whispered frantically to Snuffles, yanking him hard in the ears. "It's the one who's supposed to betray me!"