Book of Memories

Chapter 18: THE CONVERSATION

It was several weeks since they raided the library. Hermione insisted on taking her time to poke through the book. Just as Harry expected -- to his great displeasure -- the dream about Sirius had come back, night after night. Quidditch practice and games, both of which were, remarkably, still putting Gryffindor in the running to win the Quidditch Cup. And still, the name James Griffith brought the picture of the wizard with the untidy hair into Harry's mind. It was driving him bananas. "They're dead," he kept telling himself, "and nothing's going to bring them back." But finally, while Hermione was nearly drooling over Necromancy: Outlawed or Outgrown late one night in the commons, Ron couldn't take it anymore.

"What'd you take that book out for?" he asked her.

"I thought that maybe, just maybe, there would be something in here for Sirius," she said. Ron kept quiet as Hermione continued flipping through it.

"I don't want him back," said Harry suddenly. Ron and Hermione shot him looks of utter shock.

"What?" they both said, staring, mouths wide open.

"You're just going to hit a dead end," said Harry matter-of-factly. "It's hopeless. You know a recurring dream I've been having lately?" Ron and Hermione stared. "I see him staring at me and he keeps saying 'You killed me.' It wakes me up sweating."

"You know what you need to do again, Harry," said Hermione suggestively.

"You're feeling miserable again and you won't talk to anyone," Ron said, staring at Harry like a hawk.

"I told you -- exactly -- what was bothering me," said Harry.

"No you didn't. Cought it up, Harry. What is it now?"

"There isn't anything," he told her, telling the one hundred-percent truth. "Ron?" he said, turning to Ron. "You believe me?" Ron merely shrugged. He clearly didn't want to take sides.

"You're impossible! I do everything I can to cheer you up and you aren't helping," Hermione said, sounding very irritated.

"Good," said Harry. "Keep sounding irritated. That's what makes me feel better."

Hermione stormed up the spiral stairs to the girls' dormitory.

"Are you?" Ron asked.

"No!" said Harry exasperatedly. "I'm not hiding anything! Honest!" He sighed and slumped back into his chair. "She's right, the cow."

"Right about what?"

Harry stood up and started towards the spiral staircase to go up to bed.

"Harry!" Ron called. "Right about what!"

Harry didn't bother replying.

The next day, Sunday, as he woke up, Harry was slightly less gloomy. He thought, slight as it might be, that he could talk to... her... again and start feeling normal again. Hermione, on the other hand, was going to sieze this sudden slight up-lifting to see if she couldn't make Harry feel even better... She suckered him into walking alone with her around the lake while eating pieces of toast the next morning.

"No," said Harry, turning away, disgusted at the thought.

Hermione had once again suggested the most ridiculous thing ever and it was even more ridiculous since he already tried it once and it backfired.

"No," he repeated. "I'm not. I refuse." He folded his arms in protest and stopped walking.

"Come on! Do it. For me?" she added, giving him puppy eyes, the sight of which was most sickening, Harry thought. He stuck his chin higher into the air, tapping an impatient foot. "Please?" said Hermione.

Harry took off his cloak and threw it over Hermione's face then folded his arms again.

"Still not back to normal yet, I see," she said, the cloak blowing lightly in the breeze. It did prevent the snow from collecting in her hair but she pulled it off and stuffed it into Harry's folded arms.

"No. Cho... No," he said shortly.

"She already agreed to talk to you on Monday after Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione with an air of superiority.

Harry put his cloak back on. As mad as he was at Hermione at the moment, it didn't distract him from being very cold; the end of February was no warmer than January.

"You go back and tell her I'm not speaking to her," said Harry as cold as the air surrounding him. "I'm going back inside before I freeze to death. Of course, a few weeks ago I might not have minded."

He turned on his heel and walked furiously back to the castle. Hermione stood for a moment and watched, saddened, as Harry left. She watched his steps all up through the castle, shivering in the cold wind, watched as he opened the castle doors and went out of sight. By no means, though, did her relationship with Harry extend beyond a strong friendship.

In fact, she had put aside Viktor Krum ever since the term started to deal with Harry but she was filled with a deep concern that Harry refused to recognize. Or, he might have recognized, but refused to admit. Harry liked Cho -- a lot -- as Hermione very well knew but he refused to shelve his bad feelings and talk to Cho once again.

It was like battling ten-foot-long Blast-Ended Screwts with a Spell-O-Taped wand.

"YOU WHAT?" Harry bellowed at Hermione during lunch that same day, standing up, his knife and fork falling with a clatter. A few people from the Hufflepuff table stood up to see who had just screamed like someone had just died.

"She agreed to it!" said Hermione hastily. She continued to talk, very irritated at Harry. "Another night by yourselves in Hogmseade. This Saturday. It'll be great. I spoke to her and she has something to tell you. You want to hear it, I know you do. It's not so bad. Oh come on!" she added, correctly interpreting Harry's silence.

"I don't think he likes you anymore than he likes Dumbledore right now," said Ron, unable to stop himself from laughing.

Hermione glowered at him. Ron had said exatly what Harry was thinking except he was too angry to say it. Cho had walked out on him and he was supposed to just talk to her again? After all he's been through? And not care that she just... just... walked out? Or was it all in his head and he was just making a big deal about it for nothing?

Hermione didn't press the subject and kept her silence. It was Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan and Neville Longbottom that almost persuaded Harry to agree to it, finally. They began to talk to Harry as soon as he walked in to the dormitory so he could fake going to sleep and then sneak out to the library again with Ron.

"You do know, Harry, that everyone's been wondering when you two are gonna talk again," said Dean, looking at Harry like he was just delaying the inevitable.

"We have experience with girls!" said Seamus.

"Oh really?" said Harry suspiciously. Of course, he hadn't been paying much attention to anyone except himself lately...

"While you were skulking around since September, the rest of the school has been living in a parallel universe," said Dean sarcastically. "You weren't the only one who managed to get a girlfriend," he added, smirking.

"Harry, if she wants to talk to you, you should go hear what she has to say," said Seamus sternly.

"You - weren't - there," said Harry sharply back. "She just said 'I'm sorry, I can't, good bye,' and just... walked out!"

"Maybe she's hiding something," said Dean while raising an eyebrow. "Eh?" Harry stared at the floor.

"Yeah, maybe," he muttered dully to himself. Was she?

"Harry?" said Seamus as if he just thought of something. Harry looked up at him. "What exactly did you tell her, anyway?"

"Well, I... that is... but..." stuttered Harry. He didn't feel much like outright telling exactly what he told Cho, so he settled instead for saying, "We started by saying 'How are you,' and she said 'fine' and I said 'miserable' and she asked me what and - do we really have to talk about this?" he added, feeling very unsettled about the subject matter.

"Ha!" said Dean proudly. "Hermione -"

"Hermione, eh? She put you up to this, didn't she," said Harry, looking from one guilty face to the next. There was a pause while Dean and Seamus struggled to think of something that wouldn't make Harry say --

"Good night," he said before they could come up with anything, now fully red-faced and embarassed that Hermione was once again fumbling around in his personal life.

He couldn't deny to himself that, as much as he pretended to hate Hermione for stuff like this, she was just trying her very best to get Harry back with Cho even if her methods were a bit... shady.

Harry shut the curtains on his four-post bed tight after removing his Order of Merlin necklace and watch but that didn't stop Hermione's soldiers. After a few minutes' silence --

"Come on, mate!" shouted Dean desperately. "Hermione just wants to see you two back together again! Everyone in Gryffindor and Ravenclaw does! Heck! Almost the entire school! Don't think I'm lying when I say that almost every day when her and you leave the Great Hall for breakfast, lunch and dinner almost everyone from Gryffindor and Ravenclaw are talking about you two!"

"So?" said Harry, pulling his covers over his head, not letting on that he was surprised and quite shocked that so many people wanted to see them back together. That would explain the looks from some Ravenclaw seventh years...

"Just hear what Cho has to say?"

"No," said Harry flatly. Really, though, what harm was there? He was no stranger to rejection. All Cho could do was walk out again and then Harry would be free to yell at Hermione and she wouldn't be able to do anything about it because --

"You'll deserve it, you know, if she walks out again," said Harry at breakfast the next morning, not so sure he should be agreeing to this.

"Fine," said Hermione in an unctuous tone that reminded Harry of Professor Karkaroff, who used to be headmaster at Durmstrang Academy. Harry couldn't tell whether she meant to say it pleasantly or scathingly -- it sure sounded like both. "This Friday at five in the Three Broomsticks," she added in the same tone. Hermione then finished the last of her breakfast, dropped her fork with a clatter and walked quickly towards the exit of the Great Hall.

"D'you think she has her... you know?" Ron asked Harry, watching Hermione leave.

"Let her go," said Harry, shrugging. "If it works, I won't be able to get rid of her. If we try to cheer her up, she'll think she's right. We can't have that."

With Hermione gone, Ron didn't have to stifle the laugh.

The end of February meant the start of March and March meant warmer weather, to everyone's great pleasure. It had been a rough winter and the days of fall were littered with thunderstorms and rain. The night just before Harry and Cho were to meet again, a heavy rain made sure to wash away the last of the snow. It also washed away the dream of Sirius that night, to be replaced by an especially strange one.

He was lying on the floor of a pit, deep underground. Harry scrambled to his feet and looked all around, frantically, for a way out. He looked left. There was a wall only a few feet away. He looked right. There was still another wall the same distance away. He looked in front of him and behind him and there were still only more walls. Above him was a hole which looked to be at least one hundred feet high, far too high to simply jump up at.

The place was not lit very well. It was very damp, very creepy and a white dementor had popped into existence from thin air, starting to advance on Harry. He went to look for his wand -- it wasn't there.

Harry held out a finger stupidly and roared, "EXPECT PATRONUM!" while thinking of his few hours last year with his mom and dad. A cloudy mist erupted from his finger tips and flew a few inches before vanishing. The dementor laughed. He changed his thoughts to the time three years ago when he nearly escaped the Dursleys to live with Sirius and shouted "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" again. Another cloudy mist came out from his fingertips but was even less useful.

The dementor came closer. Harry's vision was failing and he was becoming weak. An unpleasant, paralyzing chill was threatening to consume him. The dementor now stood over him as Harry's knees failed him and he fell backwards onto the ground. It was smiling, stretching the terrible, scabbed skin over where there should be eyes.

Harry changed his thoughts again to the past summer and the huge birthday cake. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" he roared. Nothing. Harry switched his mind to one last desperate thought, this time looking forward to his time with Cho this weekend and shouted once more, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

Harry clasped a hand to his mouth as a shadowy figure of himself, an exact copy as he was, burst forth from his fingers with it's skin glowing a bright white. The dementor took out a black box laden with golden trimmings and dropped it onto the floor before disappearing with a pop. Harry's shadow pointed to the box and faded away.

The real Harry stood up slowly, taking his time to recover from the dementor, and opened the black box. Inside it was a piece of parchment with words written on it. He read them.

We walked the narrow path, beneath the smoking skies.

Sometimes you can barely tell the difference between darkness and light.

Do you have faith in what we believe? The truest test is when we cannot... when we cannot see.

I hear pounding feet in the... in the streets below and the... and the women crying and the... and the children know that there... that there's something wrong and it's hard to belive that love will prevail.

Oh it won't rain all the time.

The sky won't fall forever.

And though the night seems long, your tears won't fall forever.

Oh, when I'm lonely, I lie awake at night and I wish you were here.

I miss you.

Can you tell me is there something more to believe in?

Or is this all there is?

In the pounding feet in the... in the streets below and the... and the window breaks and... and a woman falls. There's... there's something wrong. It's... it's so hard to belive that love will prevail.

Oh it won't rain all the time.

The sky won't fall forever.

And though the night seems long, your tears won't fall, your tears won't fall, your tears won't fall forever.

Last night I had a dream.

You came into my room, you took me into your arms.

Whispering and kissing me and telling me to still belive.

But then the emptiness of a burning sea against which we see our darkest of sadness.

Until I felt safe and warm.

I fell asleep in your arms.

When I awoke I cried again for you were gone.

Oh, can you hear me?

It won't rain all the time.

The sky won't fall forever.

And though the night seems long, your tears won't fall forever.

It won't rain all the time

The sky won't fall forever.

And though the night seems long, your tears won't fall... your tears won't fall... your tears won't fall forever.

- Jane Sibbery, It Can't Rain All The Time

Harry, very confused, looked away from the parchment and noticed that a ladder made of rope had appeared that lead out of the pit. He smiled, very relieved and dropped the parchment. It fell right into the box, which closed itself, and flew out of the hole. Harry grabbed onto the bottom of the ladder and began to climb up, higher and higher.

Halfway out, he had a terrible thought that it wasn't going to be that easy. Something always happens. Nothing was ever easy. But he grinned, looking up and down, seeing that nothing was there, nothing, except the dark pit below him and sunshine above it. He grabbed the Order of Merlin plaque and at that very instant, he found out what was going to go wrong.

The ladder disappeared and Harry fell, fell at least fifty feet, screaming at the top of his lungs as he plummeted, before the dream dissolved and he awoke with a start. He would be keeping that dream to himself, supposing he should have payed attention to the Divination class in which Professor Trelawney went over interpretting dreams. No one would be able to make sense of that, nobody. Harry took Mr. Weasley's never-failing advice and put it out of his mind but he didn't forget the dream, it was just that he preferred not to talk about it. Something in the back of his head kept saying "Tell Cho, tell Cho," but the last time he did that, she walked out. He couldn't stand that again.

Harry waited very impatiently for Friday at five to come and at long last, Ron and Hermione bid him good luck and left. He sat down at a table and a minute later, Cho walked in.

"Hello," said Harry stiffly as she walked over to his table and sat down opposite him.

"Yeah," said Cho, sounding slightly ashamed, "sorry about that."

"Something you wanted to tell me?" said Harry, trying to not sound intimidating, and failing miserably.

"I lied last time, I couldn't help it. I just wanted the second date" -- and Harry tried for dear life to prevent himself from looking shocked she had said the "d" word -- "to go as well as the first. When you went off about what was bugging you, I just felt guilty."

Harry quickly changed tack.

"What - what are you talking about?" he asked slowly.

Cho gave a short-lived smile and rolled her eyes, clearing saying "it's not as good as I made it out to be," but Harry could have guessed that.

"When I told my dad you and I had become great friends he... went ballistic raving... raving he doesn't want me to see that 'unlucky, grateful boy. And they gave him an Order of Merlin for what?'"

Harry had a very strong urge to grab the plaque but successfully beat it down. Hand wanting nothing more than to hold it, he said, "You - er - still want to..."

"Oh, yes, of course," said Cho hastily, waving a dismissive hand at Harry. A smile wanted desperately to smear across his face but all he could manage was a deep, slow, calming breath, causing the urge to hold the plaque to die away. "I don't care what he says. He's a raving lunatic, remember?"

"Heh."

"It was just that... that I just couldn't tell you what really happened because..." The smile underneath Harry's face broke the surface.

"Because you thought I would hate him?" he asked, leaning on the table, feeling slightly better.

"Yeah," said Cho, slouching in her chair. "You were so honest, telling me all of that. I felt guilty!" she added loudly.

"Just don't do it again, eh?" said Harry innocently.

"Heh."

"D'you want to sit here all night, then or do you want to do something?" Harry asked.

"So - so you're not angry?" Cho asked, feeling horrible.

Harry changed tack again, dearly wanting to express how outraged he initially felt, how sad he was, how irritable it made him... but staring into Cho's eyes, he would have to make it sound not as bad as bad it really was.

"Hermione told me all that happened as soon as you - er - tore up your photo album," said Cho, saying what Harry was wondering (and that was what had made her want to talk to him again). "She convinced me to fess up."

Harry digressed to simply sitting upright in his chair, arms folded, feeling slightly sullen.

"Yeah, you could say I was a little torn up when you walked out," he said with a touch more attitude than he intended. "I went and told Professor Dumbledore I wanted to have a funeral for Sirius. I still do and I'd like to know what's taking so long."

"L-look, how about we go do something instead of sitting here all night?" said Cho quickly, trying desperately to put Harry's mind in a better place.

Harry looked away, Cho staring at him, and didn't respond. He couldn't explain to himself why he would be ignoring Cho now that things were... supposedly... normal again. It took the nerve-racking sound of a minute's silence for the answer to come to him. She just doesn't understand. She doesn't understand what it has been like to live with the hateful Dursleys for ten years and accept that the Potters died in a car crash. And then you find out on your eleventh birthday -- your birthday, of all days -- that they were killed by a wizard, and that you yourself were a wizard and that your relatives had known and didn't tell you.

But Cho was still sitting there, staring at Harry.

She doesn't understand what it's been like to know that your parents had to have been involved in something but only to have been lied to and told they were simply Aurors and that the person lieing to you was put under a Charm meant to trick you. She doesn't understand what it's been like to have your heart ripped from your chest, rollered, tenderized, beaten, smashed, cut in two, one half cut like swiss cheese and sliced thin like bologna, served on a golden platter to that same Dark wizard, the other half torn to shreds and thrown away like yesterday's garbage -- and all for a reason you don't know.

But Cho was still sitting there, staring at Harry.

No mother, no father, no godfather. Why not no friends, too? For a second he wished he had the mark of ancients again. At least with that Voldemort could attempt another permanent Imperius, invoking the radical mood swings he experienced while trying to fight it off. At least then he wouldn't be responsible for suddenly changing moods, especially on the likes of the one he had just sunken himself into.

But Cho was still sitting there, staring at Harry.

An urge to hold the Order of Merlin plaque caused a furor in Harry's conscience. He could just hold it very quickly and feel slightly guilty but also feel better or not hold it and continue feeling as miserable as he had the past few months.

But this was not a way to be living your life, Harry thought decisively to himself and thankfully, Cho was still sitting there, staring at him.

He leaned forward again, opened his mouth to say something, to which Cho's eyes brightened, took a moment to come up with the right words, and said, "Let's do something."

They both stood up at the same time from their chairs.

They walked towards one another.

And hugged. It felt great. Harry and Cho were back together.

Madam Rosmerta must have noticed it because she gave them both a free butterbeer. She had also used the "L" word again. Harry and Cho both looked at each other oddly, then at Madam Rosmerta, mortified that she had said such a thing.

"Oh come on you two," sighed Madam Rosmerta, the last of her patience leaving her, staring them down like an eagle. "Harry," she said, turning on him, "what did I tell you?"

Harry gulped and said, "You said if Cho really..." -- and there was quite a few seconds where he didn't speak -- "m-me, she wouldn't have left without a good reason and she'll be willing to give it a second try."

"And?"

"And what?"

Madam Rosmerta smiled. Harry and Cho were left both very confused and simply walked out of the Three Broomsticks after drinking their butterbeers. Walking down High Street, they came to the conclusion that Madam Rosmerta was referring to how they were back together again. They made a stop at Gladrag's Wizardwear where Cho wanted desperately to purchase matching dragon hide boots of the ones Harry was wearing.

"Crap! I only took ten galleons with me. Oh, and I really wanted them," Cho complained to herself.

Turning red, Harry shoved another galleon in her hand.

After spending a good half hour in Gladrag's, gauking at gloves imbued with a Strength Charm (Harry managed to lift Cho up with one hand), they both decided they were hungry and would go back to the castle. On the way, however, Harry stopped dead and the sound of his own name in a conversation taking place inside the Three Broomsticks. The two stepped aside the entrance of the building and listened in, standing against the wall.

"Did Harry have a good Christmas?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"No," said Dumbledore gravely. "Molly offered him some words of comfort one night... and... the next morning she found the photo album Hagrid had given him torn to pieces. I successfully put it back together but I don't know what to do," he said, very distressed. "I just don't know."

"Yes," said Professor McGonagall sternly, "you do know what to do. You have to tell him, Albus!" she pleaded.

"Tell him what, Minerva?" said Dumbledore scathingly. It was very out of touch with his usual manner.

"That it may be possible to revive Sirius!"

Cho immediately covered Harry's mouth with both hands, his ears glued to the conversation. She didn't need to set him down, he slowly slid down the wall to the floor on his own -- or was it that his legs didn't feel like holding him up anymore?

"Should we really be listening to this?" Cho asked. She allowed Harry's head enough movement and he gave her a wild nod. Harry then pulled out something from inside his robes.

"The Invisibility Cloak!" Cho gasped. "Oh no, should we?"

She felt Harry's tongue licking her hand and she pulled it off faster than you could say "gross." Harry covered himself and Cho with the cloak after checking no one was around. They stepped inside and sat up against the wall near the entrance. Harry had to sit as he didn't think he'd be able to stand much longer without collapsing. He let his arms fall wherever they felt like going and concentrated on nothing but the conversation. He whispered to Cho that Dumbledore could see through Invisibility Cloaks and they hid themselves completely out of sight of him.

Professor McGonagall, Dumbledore, Mr. Fudge and Professor Snape -- thankfully not Professor Moody -- were having a cuppa in the back of the Three Broomsticks.

"You said yourself you would research any possible way of reviving Black because," said Professor McGonagall, "and I quote you, Albus, 'He's lost his parents, he cannot lose his godfather and I shudder at the thought.' What harm is there?" she added pleadingly. "He already assumes Black is dead. His mood cannot get any worse!"

"There is a lot of harm -"

"Explain it again then, will you?" Professor McGonagall interrupted sharply.

Dumbledore took a moderate-sized breath. "The Book of Memories cannot revive Sirius. It's power is weak and would only suffice to reattach a willing soul. Such was why it worked with Harry that summer. Telling him is worthless. He'll have false hopes and that's the last thing he needs."

"Yes, but Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger!" Professor McGonagall said pleadingly again. "They found out about the Philosopher's Stone and the basilisk. Surely they could find out how to get the Staff of Cybele?"

Dumbledore gave her a sharp look, eyes dark behind the half-moon spectacles. Professor McGonagall nervously fixed her bun under his gaze.

"It's origins are unknown," said Mr. Fudge abandoning all pretense of ever locating it. "There are no records of it's existence. We only know what it looks like. They should not be looking for it, mind you...

"It's something to do with the Book but I just don't understand. Why doesn't it work? What exactly, your guess is as good as mine. They would not be allowed to keep the staff, of course and I would hazard to guess that the Ministry would be holding it."

Staff, Harry thought to himself?

"The staff is quite powerful, is it not?" asked Professor Snape.

"Oh yes," ensured Dumbledore. "There's been some long-standing rumors that it can even reawaken the dead."

Harry let out an audible gasp which made Cho give him a sharp elbow to the ribs. She could feel the hot breath coming hard and fast out of his nose as she put a hand back over his mouth.

"That's what people used to say about it of course," Dumbledore continued, "and like all ancient rumors have been, they too are false. You can put your tongues back in your mouths if you would like," he added.

Professor McGonagall suddenly became very unnerved.

"Myths, my dear Minerva," said Dumbledore, noting the disturbed look on her face, "and only myths. As far as what must be done with Sirius..."

"Necromancy is outlawed, Albus. Surely -"

"If Lord Voldemort is to be stopped before he can obtain the staff... I have no other solutions and would be glad to hear suggestions," said Dumbledore, eyes glittering. He sighed again, looking distressed. "Please keep this information from Harry -"

"Yes -"

"Right -"

"Will do -"

"- as I have not seen him in worse spirits, ever. If I think I could cheer him up by telling him, I would but we do not even know if the staff exists."

"I gather you threatened to expell him to keep him from finding out?" asked Professor Snape.

"'Threatened' is a strong word, Severus, but yes, and it seems to be working except for that one morning. You will note however that I asked you to not go where he might be at night. Harry might very well have a heart attack if he thinks he's going to get expelled," he added, chuckling very, very lightly.

"You could not just... let it slip... perhaps?" asked Professor McGonagall timidly. "That there is at least some hope for his godfather? Dear me, he came into class one morning and I thought he was going to burst out crying any moment! And he's been doing that for a month!"

"Please, Minerva, aren't you exaggerating just... a little?" said Professor Snape.

"I feel bad, Minerva," said Dumbledore. "I really do... I hate to see the sadness on his face each class but it would be worse if he had any false hopes."

"At the very least you can stop those infernal Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons with Professor Delacour. So many times has he come to Transfiguration so red that if you pressed a finger to his face, you would be extracting blood," said Professor McGonagall hotly.

"Minerva has a point, Albus," said Professor Snape. "I told you about those two classes with Potter. It was frightening."

Dumbledore laughed loudly.

"Had your comeuppance, have you?" he sneered.

Snape made a very strained face for a moment and then he sighed. Dumbledore smiled broadly.

"Maybe you can cheer Harry up by telling him you're sorry," he said, still laughing. "It could have a remarkable effect. Think about it! You just may stop hating James!"

Snape growled.

"Ah, Severus... but please, do say something to him Monday afternoon? At the very least he will be very confused and will become suspicious of you but, after all, that would be an improvement."

"Good, good," said Mr. Fudge. "But what of Peter Pettigrew?"

"What about him, Cornelius?" said Dumbledore suspiciously. "He says he ran from Lord Voldemort and I trust him. He knows the book is here -- just as Lord Voldemort does -- and has not attempted to steal it yet. Now, it is getting late. We should head back."

Professors McGonagall and Snape nodded in agreement. As they left the Three Broomsticks and as Cho and Harry watched them exit, Harry's mouth slowly closed, his head about to burst. Immediately after Cho took her hand off Harry's mouth, he began to almost hyperventilate.

"I know what you're thinking," said Cho before Harry could say a word.

"I know what I'm thinking too," said Harry through heavy breath. "I want to find that staff! I knew it. There's something with that book and it's definitely down the passageway from the third floor corridor."

"You're going to get yourself killed if you go down there again," said Cho sharply.

"So?" said Harry indifferently. "Do you have a quill and parchment on you? I need to write stuff down before I forget -- now."

Harry only thought of one thing to do as Cho pulled out some parchment, a quill and some ink out of her handbag: write down - every - single - thing that he could remember before forgetting any of it -- and that was what he did for a good half hour. Cho didn't outright agree to the idea but it was fruitless to try and stop him.

By the time he finished, he had managed to write everything down, not leaving a thing out. He rolled up the three pieces of parchment it took to get it all down and stuffed them in his robes. Harry didn't show Ron or Hermione yet and begged Cho not to tell anyone until he said so.

Harry made a point to tell Hermione that Cho and him were back on speaking terms and that he was very glad of it. He also made it a point to remind Hermione to keep her I-told-you-so's to herself.

That night, Harry took off his Order of Merlin necklace and placed it on his bedside table, after tossing the grubby package into the garbage once again. He would not be needing the plaque to fall asleep that night, as he had been (just as a small comfort, as it regularly continued to do nothing). There was plenty that aided in the formation of the uncontrollable, huge smile on his face. Harry's heart erupted with joy and there was no stopping the grin.

The Staff of Cybele can revive Sirius. And there are rumors it can bring the dead back. Nevermind what Dumbledore said about expelling him and there being no way to revive the dead. Harry now wanted the book for his own purposes. It had something to do with book. It had to.

Now Harry had plenty to do -- plenty researching with Hermione.