Mistaken Identity

Her black clogs were pounding hard and fast against the stone floor, the sound echoing through the hall, slicing the silence. Shoulder length, crimson tendrils flew wildly about her face, sticking to her lip gloss. Impatiently, she flung back her hair, never reducing her haste. The sound of her own rapid breathing was deafening in the calm of Hogwarts. People would be wondering where she was soon. She wouldn't let them for long.

At last she reached her destination, just at the end of the corridor in front of the Fat Lady. She'd get what she needed from him. His natural heroic instincts would assure that. The rest was merely a matter of persuasion, now that she'd taken care of the other one...

He heard her footfalls from a distance and turned about to face her.

"Harry, I've finally found you!" gasped the girl, quite flushed and breathing heavily. She clutched a hand to her chest, choking, thirsty for air.

"What is it, Ginny?" he asked her urgently, looking down the hall in the direction she had come, before looking once again at her.

"Come on." She grabbed his hand and started to pull him, leaving the fat lady bewildered in their wake.

She guided him down one deserted corridor after another, and through a few passageways he could never have guessed she knew existed.

"Ginny," he panted after quite a while of running, "where are we going?"

"You'll see."

"Tell me what's the matter!"

"Come on, faster! We're nearly there!"

She came to a halt in front of a door at the end of one particularly dismal looking hall.

"A broom closet?" Harry asked, bemused.

"Just get in," she whispered with a wicked grin.

Harry furrowed his brow, altogether exceedingly confused. However, he complied, and entered the dark, dingy space. After all, the possibility of this event not involving an imminent threat, but rather a direct attempt at a sexual encounter wasn't much incentive for Harry to loll about asking questions.

Ginny entered in after him. Her fingers ran insinuatingly over the grubby wood as she shut the door behind her and locked it. She turned to him, hungry eyes boring into the boy fast becoming a man, and slid the straps of her bag from her shoulders, allowing it to plop gently on the floor behind her, unsettling the ancient dust caked beneath their feet. She dropped down, unbuckling the worn leather satchel, and removed from it a candle, which she lit with her wand and suspended in midair in the corner. Its light poured over her features, the wicked grin still firm in place. She advanced upon him slowly, kicking aside a few boxes. With her thumb, she aloofly wiped at the corners of her mouth. Stroking her wand seductively, still sauntering ever so leisurely, she backed Harry against the wall, pinning him to it, one arm on either side, her body most definitely too close to his, rubbing up against him purposefully.

She leaned in close and let her lips brush against his ear as she whispered, "I'm going to enjoy this."

She backed away chuckling to herself, raising her wand high above her head. Instinctively, Harry went to reach for his, but before he could get to it she had yelled, "Stupefy!"

~*~*~

Harry woke in a daze. He tried to gather his thoughts, but his mind seemed to be fogged over.

He remembered Ginny and the closet...or did he? Had it been a dream? No, he could feel a cold stone wall behind him... couldn't he? Or was he still asleep? Blearily, he tried to move, but couldn't. His sudden panic at this snapped him into awareness. Rusty shackles bound his wrists and ankles to the wall. His arms were positioned straight above his head, causing his hands to be numb. He struggled fiercely against the chains, but his efforts were fruitless. His arms and legs were heavy, his head swam, his eyes stung. It was useless.

In the darkened corner he could hear soft laughter. His stomach turned over at the sound. This wasn't like her. She didn't like bondage, did she? Well, Harry certainly didn't. The thought alone brought back memories of being tied up to Tom Riddle, Sr.'s grave, memories that still haunted his dreams.

"What the hell's gotten into you, Ginny?" he demanded weakly.

She stepped closer to him, coming into sharper focus within the floating candle's light. Fiery red hair, freckles, a soft jaw line; all were thrown into dramatic relief. She clucked her tongue, feigning a disappointed look, though her amusement was still abundantly evident.

"Not as bright as I've been told, after all." She smiled again, tittering.

His mind was jarred. Forcefully, he was reminded of his confrontation with Barty Crouch, Jr. after the third task of the Triwizard Tournament.

Harry's eyes narrowed against the pressing obscurity. "Who are you?" His voice shook slightly as he said this. He became aware suddenly of how vulnerable he was. He took note that she twirled his wand lazily between her fingers, her own wand discarded on the ground.

"Ah. He gets it. Better late than never, as they say." She stepped a little closer. "No, I'm not Ginny. But can he guess who?"

Harry looked at the tarnished manacles that held him in place. "Merlin, you're Filch," he blurted out, horror struck.

Ginny's smile widened, "Come now! Don't you want to play? You're getting it all wrong."

"Is this a bloody game?"

"Aw, come on. I'll give you a hint." She cleared her throat and said in a bitterly familiar voice, "Wotcher, Harry." Then she winked in a foolish looking way.

It couldn't be--"Tonks?"

"He's grasped it." She smiled, satisfied. "Can he guess why?"

"Is this some stupid precaution the Order's taking? Because if it is I--"

"Cold," she cut him off, "You're getting very cold."

He swallowed hard, allowing a worry ever-present in his mind to come to the forefront. "Voldemort."

"Ding ding ding!" She chortled patting his head and saying as though she were praising an infant, "Very good, Harry. Who's a clever little lad?" She poked his nose with her finger.

"You're off your bloody rocker."

"Wrong, Harry. I'm not crazy." She adopted a serious look and added in a deadly whisper, "I'm finally seeing things clearly. My whole life I never felt like I fit in. They would all tease me here at school, you know." She put on a high pitched, childlike voice. "'Clumsy Boots Nymphadora!' 'Nose-in-the-dirt Nymphadora!'" Her eyes narrowed and she continued on in a misty tone, more talking to herself than Harry. "But they were all just jealous... The Dark Lord has shown me that I can be of invaluable help in realizing his vision... I have a place now... People respect me."

She was ripped from her reverie when Harry persisted, "What have you done with Ginny?"

Another twisted smile crept its way onto her face. "She had to be positioned out of the way. Don't fret, pet. She's in a safe place."

"If you lay a hand on her--"

"He should be worried about himself right now," she interjected in the same placid tone.

"Quit talking like that!" he yelled, struggling once more against his bindings. He was breathing heavily now. His anger was rising. If she did anything to Ginny...he tried to put it out of his mind.

Tonks continued with a business-like attitude as though she hadn't heard him. "Now, I could have killed you before, but I didn't. The reason for that is not just because attempting to harm the Great Harry Potter has been the source of many wizards' undoing; I'm not just concerned for my health, I assure you. I need a little information from you, first."

"Oh really?" he responded brusquely through gritted teeth. "And what's that?"

"Through a few unwitting sources at the Order, I found out that you've heard the lost prophecy. Not one wizard in the Order knows what it contained... apart from Dumbledore and yourself, of course."

"Is that right?" he snarled, "Well, I'm not interested, thanks."

She sniggered. "You're very brave. It must be easy for you. You're convinced I don't have it in me to torture you, to perform the Unforgivables on you until I break you. And you may be right..." She smiled sweetly. "But there are other ways I can crack you...more fun ways."

He didn't speak; he simply stood there, bound, grinding his teeth.

She attempted to wait patiently for him to ask what she had meant by that last bit, but her excitement got the better of her.

"Doesn't he want to know what my plans are for him?" She arched a playful eyebrow. He didn't speak. "He doesn't want to know how I'll get him to tell me everything I ask him to tell me?"

"No, Tonks," Harry affirmed, trying to keep his voice steady as his anger continued to mount. "He doesn't want to know. Whatever it is, just get on with it."

"He thinks he's strong enough to endure?" She chuckled again. "He doesn't know what he's getting himself in for."

"I'm not afraid to die," he spat out, "Why would I tell you something so important? To avoid death? You've already implied that you'll kill me once I've told you."

"You won't do it for yourself..." she whispered, smiling so wide he could spot her wisdom teeth. She looked very pleased with herself.

Then it hit him. It was like something cold and slimy was slithering down into his stomach. He couldn't breathe. She was going to hurt someone...someone he cared about...and he'd be letting it happen.

Tonks merely kept smiling that sick smile that didn't look right on Ginny's sweet face... the face she had put on to trick him... that beautiful face that he might never get to see the real Ginny smile with ever again...he'd be helpless to prevent it...

"Let's think," she said at last. "Who does Harry Potter care for?" She scratched her chin and pretended to look off pondering something. Her eyebrows knitted and her eyes became unfocused. After a moment of this act, her face lit up, as though she'd had an epiphany. "I know!" she burst out, "Sirius Black!" She quickly covered her mouth with both hands and let out a forged gasp. "I'm so sorry. I forgot..." she said almost convincingly, before adding viciously, "he's dead."

White hot fury rose inside Harry, but he did not lash out. If she knew he was distressed it would get her more wound up. He had to keep her here as long as he could, focused on hurting him.

"You know, Harry, when Ginny was at the Order last she was regaling me with the story of your spectacular water rescue in the second task of the Triwizard Tournament. I believe Ron was 'the thing you would most miss'." She looked ecstatic. "Let's put it to the test, shall we?"

She strode away from him, towards the door. He was just about to scream out that she couldn't go hurt Ron when she turned abruptly. "Try to imagine this," she whispered maliciously.

Her face was Ginny's one second, contorted in concentration, and then the next second it was Ron's face that stared back at him. This was not Ron as Harry had ever seen him before. He was cut and bruised and in a right state. He fell to the floor and coughed, cradling his stomach.

"What the hell's gotten into you Harry?" He coughed again. This time blood came up and spattered across the dusty floor. Suddenly, his eyes widened fearfully and he began to scurry back away from the horrified boy shackled to the wall. "Harry, put the wand away. Harry, please. No--" He threw himself onto his back and went into convulsions.

"No!" Harry bellowed. He felt numb as he cursed himself for losing his calm. It's not Ron, he reminded himself, it's her.

She stopped twitching and began rolling around on the floor, laughing wildly.

At last she lay still and sighed, collecting herself. She stood and changed into her actual form.

Tonks looked just as Harry remembered, apart from her short hair being jet black with a single white stripe at the front. She approached him again. "What do you think of my acting? I know, I know, it would have been more convincing if I hadn't still been wearing this girl's uniform, but luckily I've got a boy's one in my pack...just in case."

Harry couldn't think of anything to say, so he did the first thing that came to his mind.

He spat in her face.

At first, Tonks didn't do anything. She stood perfectly still, no sign of anger, then her face slipped into something like a grin. Calmly, she wiped off his saliva with the back of her hand as it ran sluggishly down her cheek, then slowly licked it off herself. She smirked.

"You disgust me," Harry avowed, clenching his jaw.

"That's too bad. I like you; you're spirited. It makes it a lot more fun for me."

"Go to hell."

She leaned in a little closer. Her face was merely inches from his now. "You know, Harry... you look good in chains..." Tonks wasn't smiling anymore. She looked at him ardently, her voice misty. "...almost good enough to eat."

"What?"

"Before I go, I think I'll have a little taste."

She leaned in and bit hard on his lower lip. He jerked away and spat on the ground, then looked back at her, revolted.

Tonks snarled.

"Fine," she growled, "he doesn't like to play." She shook her head at him slowly. "He's still just a boy." Without warning, she smiled again, sweetly. "Now then. About your good friend Ron...I don't think I'll hurt him just yet. I'll need Hermione out of the way for what I've got planned. They're dating now, am I right?"

He didn't respond. She was still standing too close.

"Tonks is always right," she whispered, her breath sweeping over his face. He shuddered. "ACCIO PACK!"

Worn leather flew across the small room. Not taking her eyes off Harry, she pulled from it a large, opaque orb. Holding it in both hands she whispered an incantation. "Indiquez à lui ce que mauvais attend."

The orb became illuminated for an instant. There was an onslaught of pearly-white light in brilliant, segmented streams. When darkness had once again overtaken the small room, Harry looked into the ball's murkey depths and saw within it the entirety of the broom closet they were in. It was as though by looking into it, he was looking through the eyes of a third person in the room, though the two of them remained alone. The orb stayed hovering opposite Harry's face when Tonks detached her hands from it and drew away.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Tonks began conversationally, eyeing the incredible object. "Some know it as Au Cercle de Yeux. I don't believe you'll find it on the Hogwarts curriculum. There were only two made in France in the second century. The incantation, as you may have noticed, is in French. It's the only French incantation that was not lost during the Revolution."

Tonks had not taken her eyes off of the floating globe. She looked as if she were in awe of it. It was telling that she spoke of it with such great reverence. What if it were a bomb...or a portkey which she could use to bring Voldemort here to the school? The beautiful, hovering object seemed evil to the defenseless boy chained opposite it.

Finally, she looked to Harry, whose face was stricken. She could not have been more pleased by this. "Don't worry, pet... It's not a killer. Just an aid in my little project. Au Cercle de Yeux will allow you to watch every move I make as though you were right there with me. You see, Harry, I figure that me describing what I'm going to do to your friends doesn't really compare to making you watch it." More chortling, maniacal and malevolent. "Take notes. I'll be back soon to discuss it with you..."She arched her brow. "Maybe then you'll feel like playing." She blew him a kiss and turned on her heel, leaving Harry to watch within the orb whatever wicked deeds were to ensue.

~*~*~

Once again, the form of Ginny Weasley made her way through the halls. She swiftly brushed away any dust the grubby broom closet had left on her uniform.

"Have you seen Hermione Gracin?" she asked a passing Ravenclaw.

"You mean Hermione Granger?" the girl asked suspiciously, knowing Ginny and Hermione had been close friends for years.

"Yes, right. Have you?" she urged.

"Sure, try the library. She's always there this time of day...with you."

"Right. Silly me," she giggled, twirling a bit of her auburn hair, feigning idiocy.

"Right," the Ravenclaw girl said, bewildered, then left.

Tonks watched until she was out of sight before ducking into an empty classroom. From her bag, she removed a boy's uniform she'd gotten from the laundry. She removed the girl's uniform, almost seductively, and whispered, "How are you enjoying the view, Harry? First time you've seen Ginny half naked, perhaps?"

Back in the broom closet, Harry struggled against the chains once again, his eyes avoiding the orb which was allowing him a full view of this risqué scene. He didn't want to look...it wasn't really Ginny...it was just a lunatic in Ginny's skin...Ginny's sweet, soft skin... "No!" he shouted, realizing he'd almost peeped.

"Perhaps you like this look better, eh?" Tonks asked, cruel amusement in her voice.

Hearing this, he glanced back into the sphere, and saw a fully clothed Ron. In his hand he appeared to be holding a letter.

"It's time for me to rendezvous with your best-mate's girl."

Tonks strode rapidly through one corridor after the next, finally coming across what appeared to be the school library. Yes, it all was coming back to her now. Her pace slowed as she entered, searching through the labyrinth of shelving. In the rear of the library, she spotted Hermione sitting alone at a table, her face mere inches away from a rather large book titled Olde Majiks: A History. So close was the book, in fact, that the only distinguishing characteristic visible was her trademake bushy, mouse-brown hair. Tonks suddenly froze. The scene was uncanny, and it reminded her...

*FLASHBACK*

An awkward Second year Hufflepuff girl sat at a bench at break time reading from the book Olde Majiks: A History. No one sat with her...not ever. On this particular day, however, things seemed as though they might take a turn for the better. Unexpectedly, a group of Fifth year girls called, "Hey, Nymphadora! Over here!" They smiled kindly and motioned with their hands for her to join them. Her heart jumped into her throat. She nodded her head, shoved her book into her bag, and began to skip towards them. Without warning, her foot latched onto a small rock in the path, and she tripped. She hit the ground hard with a sickening thud. Her bag ripped open, ink staining the well kept grounds of Hogwarts. The Fifth year girls who had called to her began to laugh hysterically.

"You owe me a galleon!" one of them screeched, "I told you she would fall all over herself!"

"You are so bad!" another giggled. Then they began their insufferable chanting of the vicious names students had created for her. The young Tonks gathered her things and ran off towards the school, tears blurring her vision and the growing noise of chanting causing her mind to swirl.

*FLASH FORWARD*

Tonks shook the memory from her brain.

Your empathy towards the girl is irrelevant, a voice said softly in her mind, she's part of the plan.

"Yes, master," Tonks whispered aloud, "I know what I must do."

Using her Metamorphmagus ability, she augmented her vocal chords, allowing her to achieve a deep voice identical to Ron's. The letter still in hand, Tonks approached Hermione, tapping her shoulder.

Hermione gasped, startled, and looked up. "Ron, there you are." She slammed the book closed and jumped up, snaking her arms around her boyfriend's waist...or, what she thought was her boyfriend, rather.

"Hullo," Tonks greeted cheerily, leaning down to receive a soft kiss. After all, the act had to be convincing. She was to behave as Ron would have. Hermione moaned and pulled closer, deepening the kiss. Tonks finally pulled away for breath.

"Wow," she breathed, "what was that for?"

Hermione grinned sheepishly. "You know... for last night."

"Must have been some night." Tonks cocked an eyebrow.

"You prat, you know it was," she whispered suggestively while purposefully pressing her chest against Ron's abdomen.

Tonks cleared her throat and pulled away from Hermione's grasp.

"Almost forgot, I was asked to give this to you straight away." She held out the letter she'd been holding. "It came just now from the Ministry."

Hermione cocked her head to the side slightly, forehead contracting in curiosity. Once she had taken it from his outstretched hand, Hermione turned the envelope over. She allowed her fingers to run across the official Ministry stamp that sealed it before delicately pealing it apart. Her overlarge, chocolate eyes poured over the hastily scrawled lettering:

Dear Hermione Granger,

We at the Ministry of Magic regret to inform you that at 9:04 a.m. on this, the morning of December third, your parents were found deceased at their dental practice by a family of muggles. They are thought to have been targets of an assassination. As of yet, however, we are unable to confirm this. Our intelligence so far has led us to believe that it was, in fact, carried out by one or more death eaters. We extend our apologies that you must learn of the regrettable incidence in this manor. Headmaster Dumbledore will soon be contacted with more information.

Sincerely,

Perpetua Night

Ministry of Magic

Secretary, Department of Magical Law Enforcement

Hermione began to shake violently. Her glassy eyes reflected in them the dreaded letter. She knew it had been a possibility her parents would be casualties in this war. Every night, in her dreams, she saw herself going home for summer vacation to find her parents dead, mutilated by their own dentistry instruments. It's just that Ron told her he would never let that happen, and she had believed him.

"What's it say?" Tonks asked concern in her voice. Tonks slipped the parchment from between Hermione's hands and pretended to look horrified as she read it over. Of course, Tonks had written it, and even gone through the pain of transforming her palm into the shape of the official Ministry stamp before pressing it in hot wax, which she thought was a nice touch. She'd planned this thing for months. She'd anticipated every eventuality, every curve ball the Golden Boy, Potter, might send sailing her way. If things kept going according to plan, it would be over soon...

It was too easy.

"Hermione. I'm..." Tonks laid a cautious hand on her shoulder. "I'm so sorry..."

"My parents," Hermione managed to say feebly. "My parents...what do I do now?"

She looked to be on the threshold of mental collapse. Her eyes were still fogged glass that stared off into nothingness. As Harry watched her in the enchanted sphere, he thought angrily how she had never looked so unsure and alone.

Tonks grabbed Hermione by the shoulders and shook her slightly. "Hermione, look at me." Hermione rolled her neck back to look up into Ron's unfocused face. Tonks loosened her grip and lifted a hand to Hermione's cheek. When Tonks spoke again, it was gentle, but very slow and pronounced. "Now, listen to me very carefully, ok? Dad works in that department, so I'll go owl him. In the meantime, you're going to go to Dumbledore's office, and tell him what's happened. Then insist that you be able to wait there until he gets word from the Ministry. Can you do that for me?"

Hermione nodded her head slowly. At this consent, Tonks took her in Ron's arms and held her for a moment. As Ron's chin rested on Hermione's crown, his mouth contorted into a warped smile. "There's my brave girl."

~*~*~

Once in the hall, Tonks enlisted a third year Hufflepuff to escort Hermione to Dumbledore's office, insisting, "I would go with her if I could, but I have to go owl someone. It's extremely important that she get there straight away, you understand." Tonks waited until she was sure the girls were headed in the direction she had ordered before turning and walking away. "That takes care of that meddlesome twat," she muttered to herself. "And I thought she was the smart one." Passersby looked at Tonks curiously. She didn't have time for this. There was still much to be done...

Harry watched in the orb as Hermione and the small Hufflepuff girl rounded the corner into an adjoining corridor, wishing he could stay with her and see what would happen. However, Tonks had other plans, and the view within the orb followed the profile of Ron as Tonks slipped unnoticed into an unoccupied prefect bathroom.

Settling herself on the edge of the pool-sized tub with assorted spouts, Tonks pulled once again from her bag the girls' uniform. To Harry's confusion, she began to rip it in strategic places: across the chest of her blouse, down the sleeve of the robe, and through the seam of the neatly pleated skirt. She then proceeded to situate it on Ron's lanky body in a haphazard way. Perhaps she planned to publicly humiliate his Weasley companion? To Harry's dismay, Ron's face became contorted in concentration, and the next moment...

"Having fun yet, Harry?" Tonks whispered, looking directly where the orb would have been positioned in the room. It was haunting to have Tonks stare straight into him from the globe that floated only inches from his face. Her gaze was unavoidable. But what Harry especially disliked was her choice of disguises. It wasn't right for Tonks to be laughing like she was while looking like that.

"With that clever little witch out of the way, we can finally pay your friend Ron a little visit." More laughter. "I hope he likes Hermione's new look..."

~*~*~

Tonks crouched in the shadow of a large statue of Filligus the Frightener. Her every breath rose moistly and clung to the thin air as she stood at the base of the tall, winding staircase leading up through the Divination tower. She knew Ron would be soon making his way down. She checked her watch. Class should have let out right then.

Soon after, the sounds of footfalls and grumbled complaints began to resonate loudly from the tower's top. She waited for many of the students to pass before seeing Ron towards the back of the throng. He was tall and handsome, muscular from his Quidditch playing, no longer awkward and lanky. He looked so different than he had that first summer at the Order...

*FLASHBACK*

Tonks sat on the floor of one of the upper rooms in Black Manor. They had all been renovating it. Hermione and Ginny were down in the kitchen, helping Mrs. Weasley clean up a mess Fred and George had made when they had apparated, knocking over a statue and waking up the portrait of Mrs. Black. Harry and Ron were with Tonks. The boys stood on chairs, cleaning out a high cabinet. Ron had found an old pair of absurdly thick glasses. He put them on and was entertaining Harry by impersonating Professor Trelawney. In a misty voice, he would predict Harry's death in increasingly more impossible ways. Finally, Harry fell off his chair, rolling with laughter. Tonks watched over them, beaming.

*FLASH FORWARD*

"Oy, Ron," inquired a boy with blondish hair and a thick Irish accent, snapping Tonks from her trance. "Why wasn't Harry in class?"

"Dunno." Ron shrugged. "After lunch he said he was going back to the common room to get his dream journal. Haven't seen him since."

Just then, Tonks stumbled out from behind the menacing statue.

"Hermione!" Ron yelled as she fell into him. He caught her with great difficulty. "What's happened to you?"

The boys he had been talking to--Seamus, Dean, and Neville-- rushed over to help. Ron lifted her up into a standing position and held her fast by the shoulders. She looked faint, and was bleeding steadily from her lip. She didn't speak. She looked to be in shock. Her eyes were slightly crossed and unfocused.

"She needs to get to the hospital wing," he said to the others. He slipped his arm about her and helped to support her as they walked. "Who did this to you?" He pleaded, running a hand softly over her bruised cheek, "Hermione, please. Say something..."

"M...Ma..." Her voice was weak and raspy as she tried to make out the word.

"Come on..." he encouraged.

"Malfoy." As her breath escaped with this single word, she collapsed again into his arms.

"Help me carry her!" Ron shouted to the three boys standing about him.

The four of them lugged her all the way to the Infirmary, moving as fast as they could, shouting at students to move aside as they came barging through. Madame Pomfrey came bustling to their aid as they arrived.

"Lay her here, quickly," the Head Nurse had ordered, ostensibly vexed. "Tell me what happened."

"I'm not sure," Ron said, out of breath, grasping Hermione's hand as Pomfrey examined her. "I wasn't there."

Madame Pomfrey looked at the hand held in Ron's. She glanced up at the four boys, clucking her tongue disapprovingly. "You children are going to have to leave."

"No," Ron stated fiercely, "I'm not leaving her."

"Young man, this girl must go through a complete physical examination, seeing as how you cannot tell me what was done to her."

"You don't think someone..." Ron couldn't bring himself to say it. Hermione's torn skirt revealed her upper thighs. He looked down and saw they were covered with what may probably have been fingernail markings. "Merlin."

Madame Pomfrey looked at him sadly. "I'm sorry, but you all must leave. She requires immediate attention."

Ron nodded his head in assent. He let go of Hermione, reluctantly, and walked over to the three boys at the foot of her bed.

"I'm going to go have a little chat with Malfoy. Any of you care to join me?"

Dean, Seamus and Neville all nodded resolutely, then followed silently behind Ron as he left. As Madame Pomfrey closed the curtain around her, Harry wished the orb would allow him to follow after his friends. No, on second thought, he wished he could be free of these bloody chains so he could find Ron in time to warn him... find him before he found Malfoy...

~*~*~

Hermione sat opposite Dumbledore with her face in her hands. He had found her outside of his office with a third year Hufflepuff girl. She had been like stone as he assisted her up the revolving staircase. Now the numbing shock of her parents' death had ebbed away, and tears poured silently down her pale cheeks. How could she have let herself be comforted by Ron? She shouldn't have been such a foolish romantic, thinking Ron would keep her parents safe when he was hundreds of miles away from them. Where had her sense gone? She blamed herself entirely. She should have written to them, told them all about the Order, told them to go into hiding. No, that would have made them even bigger targets, knowing about the Order. They could have been tortured to the point of insanity for information, like Neville's parents had been...

"How could this have happened?" she asked after a long time of sitting in silence. Her words were choked out amid hushed sobs.

"The Ministry should be owling at any moment," Dumbledore assured. "We'll know then."

"Do you think it was death eaters?"

He looked at her despondently and sighed softly, resigning to tell her the truth. "It is possible."

She removed her hands to uncover her face and looked at him, stifling herself enough to ask, "But how would they have known where to find them, Professor? Known about their dentistry practice?"

He paused for a moment, surveying her over the spectacles resting on his long, crooked nose.

"In recent months, it has come to our attention that there is a leak within the Order. This leak would have been in the position to gather information regarding anyone who had at some point come into contact with our initiative."

Hermione opened her mouth to question him further when Madame Pomfrey came bursting into the room.

"She's gone! Albus, Hermione Granger is--" She cut herself off as she realized the identity of the apparently uninjured girl sitting across from Dumbledore.

"Is here." Dumbledore stood in greeting. "And quite safe."

"No. No she...she was in the Infirmary...she was hurt," Madame Pomfrey stammered, "I...I saw her."

Dumbledore looked at the frightened nurse for a moment. He nodded, and calmly motioned for her to take a seat beside Hermione. "Tell me what you saw."

~*~*~

Draco Malfoy sauntered elegantly from his Transfiguration class flanked by his cronies, Crabbe and Goyle. Crabbe was guffawing stupidly at a joke Draco hadn't even finished telling.

"And so the half-blood says to the bartender--" He stopped cold. His eyes widened, sparkling maliciously. A smirk played across his pasty, angular face. His lip curled upwards, exposing pointed teeth. "Were you waiting out here for me, Weasel? Very thoughtful of you. A bit pouf-ish, but all the same..." His eyes went from Ron to each of the other boys surrounding him in turn, mockingly.

"Malfoy, you smarmy bastard," Ron snarled, knuckles white from clutching his wand so tightly.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're rubbish with insults?"

"Alright. Then let's just skip to the part where I kill you." He had a crazed look about him as he took a step towards Draco, who's smirk flickered slightly as he threw out his arms in front of Crabbe and Goyle.

"Back off boys," he addressed his associates, who had been about to take Ron down. "I like his spirit." He looked back to Ron. "What's troubling you Weasley? How can I make it worse?"

"What did you do to her?"

"What are you prattling on about?" He held up one dainty hand and began to examine his fingernails. "Make it quick. I'm becoming bored with you."

Ron apparently did not hear him.

"Did you rape her? Because if you did I swear I'll tear out your liver, fasten a stuffed vulture to it, and wear it as a hat." He could have meant it, too, for in his eyes was illuminated a demented glimmer.

"Delusional, eh? Worried someone's gotten to Granger's goods first?" He smiled. "As much as I hope that's the case, I wouldn't condescend to do it myself." He stopped analyzing his cuticles and fixed his grey eyes on Ron, carefully watching for his reaction. "We've been over this before, Weasley: I have standards for the things I allow my hands to touch. I don't fancy dirtying them up with Mudblood."

Ron made a move as if to lunge for him, but Dean gripped his arm hard. Draco laughed, which, as usual, was the cue for Crabbe and Goyle to laugh as well.

"Look," Draco said, calming himself, "Last I saw her, she was outside the library and you were telling some third year to take her to see Dumbledore."

"That's the sorriest lie I've ever heard, seeing as how I would remember a thing like that," Ron hissed.

"That must be a side affect of the aforementioned delusions," Draco stated, reasonably.

"I've had enough of his crap," Seamus chimed in, "I say we fight."

"Wait." Neville held up a tentative hand. "I'm remembering something."

Everyone present turned and watched him carefully as he frowned, trying to think.

"Oh!" he exclaimed suddenly, "I know! Remember during Divination when I was sent to the owlry?" The Gryffindor boys nodded. "Well, I was coming back, and I forgot to make a right turn somewhere, because you guys know how confused I get when the staircases move around--"

"Bored now," Draco cut him off, once again looking at his nails.

"Right..." Neville coughed, embarrassed. "Well, anyways, I saw Dumbledore and Hermione with a third year Hufflepuff girl outside his office. 'Mione looked real upset, but she wasn't hurt or nuffink, and it wasn't that long before we found her like she was."

Ron looked at Dean and Seamus. "Something strange is going on," he told them darkly, before turning and adding, "I'll deal with you later, Malfoy."

"I'll look forward to it," Draco retorted coldly. He snapped his fingers, indicating Crabbe and Goyle should follow him as he turned on his heel and went.

The four Gryffindors remained outside the Transfiguration room, which was to be their next class.

"What are you planning to do?" Dean asked Ron.

"Maybe you should wait until Harry gets back from...wherever it is he went off to," Neville suggested.

"Harry..." Ron thought a moment, eyes alight. "That's it!" he exclaimed, finally.

He began to run back in the direction of the Gryffindor common room.

"Where are you going?" Seamus yelled at his retreating back. Dean shrugged.

~*~*~

Somewhere in the gloom, a door was creaking open. Its motion made dust swirl in the candlelight.

"Wotcher Harry."

He had seen her coming. In the orb, he had watched as Madame Pomfrey went to get her wand and Tonks snuck behind a portrait of a 17^th century nurse. She had slithered her way through the crawl space and came out behind a tapestry in an empty corridor. She had run the whole way back to the broom closet.

The door snapped shut. The lock clicked in place.

A beaten-up Hermione stepped into focus. With a flick of her wand, the Cercle de Yeux became once again murky. She levitated it to her, shoving it back into her bag.

"Had enough time to mull things over, love?" She waited for a response that refused to come. "What's wrong?" She stepped closer. "Have I upset you?" Her curious tone could not mask her joy, nor did it try. She put on a pout. "I was hoping you'd enjoy my performance. I thought you would especially appreciate the effort I put into imitating their voices. You know, that doesn't come naturally to all metamorphmagii. It takes a long time to learn how to match the shape of your vocal chords to get just the right resonance for each individual person."

"Was that spectacle the best you could come up with?" Harry asked at last.

"Yes, actually," she stated. "Why? Not up to your standards as far as psychological torture goes?"

"Yes. In truth, I found it to be a bit anticlimactic," he said with some satisfaction, "When all this ends, one way or another Hermione will find out her parents aren't dead and Ron will realize Hermione was never hurt, and all your work will be discredited."

"Very good, Harry." She nodded her head, impressed. "Yes, that was taken into consideration months ago when I first began to run through some possible courses of action."

"Then why did you go through all the trouble of running around misleading them? Not a very evil plan, wouldn't you say?" He was trying to provoke her, get her to reveal her plan.

She threw her hands up in the air, saying sarcastically, "You've got me. In fact, I'll just set you free and go apologize to your friends." She laughed.

He ignored her outburst, continuing, "A more observant person might say that this entire setup has been a bluff. You have no intention to hurt me. You're afraid to touch me. You know what might happen if you do."

"Interesting notion, Harry. But, I'm not the one who's bluffing. I can tell you're playing at a mind game of your own. A bit ironic, really." She cocked her head to the side curiously, and took another step closer, suggestively biting her lip, her mood again changing to be seductive. "But, no...I'm not afraid to touch you."

Harry's face, not seconds before, had been confident and daring, and now was drained of its color. He had meant to threaten her, and only encouraged her. Although he knew what she had implied, he still felt compelled to ask, "What do you mean?"

"I can give you what you want, Harry. I can be anything you want me to be. If only you'd stop fighting it, we could rule the magical world. You and me, Harry." She took another step. "Permeating power, both prisoners to pleasure." She paused dramatically. "What do you think?"

"It makes me want to heave."

She smirked.

"Well, I haven't finished my pitch yet," she said incredibly calm, "The question is: What would you want? I've given it a great deal of thought as of late, and I think I've stumbled upon an adequate answer."

Harry closed his eyes tight, anticipating her next move.

"Come now, Harry," Ginny's voice coaxed, her breath brushing over his face. "This is what you want, isn't it? It's the reason this was my initial disguise. I knew I could lure you here if I looked like her. Why else would you be refusing to look at me right now?"

"You're not her."

"But I can be." She leaned in now, nibbling softly on his earlobe.

"No," Harry whimpered feebly, his defenses weakening.

"You don't mean that, though. I can smell your hunger. You've been waiting a year for her to come back around, wishing she could want you like she did as a child, watching as she was passed from guy to guy, feeling like you'd missed your chance. This is it. I'm giving you your second chance, Harry. Take it."

"No." He shook his head violently. "You're on the other side now."

"There aren't any sides. There's only us. We'll run away together. No good or evil will ever find us." She took a step back. "Harry, look at me."

He opened his eyes to see his longtime love. "Ginny," he whispered.

"That's right. It's me. We can finally be together." She reached out and ran her fingertips along his jaw. "I just need to know one thing...just this one little thing and it will all be over..."

"The prophecy?" Harry asked weakly.

"That's right," she said gently.

Harry nodded his head, and began feebly, "The prophecy says...that the only way Voldemort can defeat me..."

"Yes?" she urged.

"...is to perform the killing curse..." He slumped over more, quickly fading.

"Go on." She urged more firmly this time.

"...in a tutu." Much to the fury of Tonks, Harry smiled, straightening his body, suddenly fully alert.

Realizing what had just happened, she began to clap her hands slowly, sardonically. "Bravo, Harry," she said with one final clap that echoed dully around the small space. "Very clever...You almost had me going."

"Likewise."

"I didn't think you'd go for that 'run away together' bit, seeing as how you've been able to resist the Dark Lord's influence on several occasions. It was worth a shot, though."

"Another waste of time, eh? Tough break."

"Ah, yes. I digress. As we were discussing before, Ron and Hermione aren't going to be physically harmed in this process. Does he want to know why?"

"Sure; why not?"

She smiled excitedly. "Several reasons, actually; the first being that they must not get in my way. I needed them to be distracted. Right now their minds are on one track. They're not thinking about where Ginny or you have disappeared to; they're caught up in their own pathetic existence. With me so far?"

He didn't reply. Inwardly he felt foolish. He had been so wrapped up in their battle of wits that he momentarily allowed himself to forget she had taken Ginny, as well.

"Secondly," she continued, "I needed them to demonstrate my powers of persuasion. If I can fool them, then I can certainly fool Ginny. She's not exceedingly bright, that one. And lastly, it'll be more damaging to Ron and Hermione when they receive the bittersweet news: Her parents are alive, she's in perfectly good health, but they allowed themselves to be tricked, resulting in the harm soon to be done to Ginny...if things go as planned. Now you hang three minds in the balance, Harry."

"What are you going to do to her?" he demanded, his eyes wide and his voice fierce.

"Ginny? Oh, Harry, it'll be glorious. I wish you could watch, but I think it will be worse for you if you don't."

Harry was breathing very heavily now.

"You must be wondering where she is," Tonks stated. "Of all people, you should already know." She laughed again. "After all, it was you who locked her up this morning after breakfast. Wonder what you're going to do to her next?"

Harry's eyes enlarged, comprehending after a moment that she had disguised herself as him to trick Ginny, as she had done using Ginny to get to him. "You're sick," he murmured hazily.

"No, Harry. You are. You need help. I wonder what the Weasleys will think when they find out what you did to their poor daughter." She looked off in contemplation.

"If you hurt her I'll kill you."

"They'll probably disown you," she continued on, thoughtfully.

"They'll know it wasn't me. Ron and Hermione will figure it out."

"Maybe so." She nodded. "In any case, being tortured for hours is a very traumatic thing to go through, believe me. You come out of it a different person. Every time Ginny sees your face, I'll be there in her mind; performing a curse on her, pouring potions on her lithe body...anything to make her scream out your name in pain. Do you think she'll want you around the Burrow come summer? That she'll want Ron to continue being your friend? They'll side with her. She's a Weasley; you're not."

"I'm as good as... It won't be like that," he said, more to convince himself.

She wasn't listening. She was already changing clothes again. When next she spoke, she spoke as Harry. "You have a really great body." She flexed Harry's toned arms and ran his imposter hands over his imposter washboard stomach. "I really enjoy being in it; controlling it." As she spoke, she began to lengthen one of Harry's nails. She stepped close to Harry and ran the sharp, elongated fingernail down his cheek, slicing it open. Harry refused to make a noise, though in a great deal of pain. He stood, horrified, as Tonks pressed into him. He felt his own body roughly pushing him into the wall as Tonks ran a tongue over the fresh wound on Harry's face. Her salty saliva caused his cheek to sear again with pain.

"Last chance to give me what I came for," she said, backing away towards the door.

"Would it really stop you?"

She tilted Harry's head to the side in thought. "The question is, Harry: Would you be willing to risk it?" She ginned in a truly sadistic way, knowing that he couldn't gamble divulging the prophecy on the word of a mad-woman that Ginny would thus be unscathed. It made Harry cringe to see himself look so demented. He was still considering when she sighed, "Oh well," then blew him a kiss. "We'll always have the memories, love."

She left.

~*~*~

"Puking Pasties," Ron said to the Fat Lady upon finally arriving at Gryffindor tower.

He jumped through the portrait hole into the common room. "Harry?" he asked, looking around. The room was deserted. His only company was the roaring fire, which stayed lit all day in the winter.

He ran up the stairs to the boys' dormitories, tripping once, yelling, "Harry?"

He entered the sixth year boys' room. "Harry?" he yelled again. Still no answer. He walked over to his bed, cursing. "Where the hell is he?"

Ron sat down on his soft, scarlet colored comforter. He rested his face in his hands, thinking.

"Maybe he's in class by now..." he mumbled to himself. "What if he's not and I have to come all the way back here? Damn."

Ron furrowed his brow, stumbling upon a new plan of action. "Would Harry mind if I just borrow it...no, he'll understand," he decided, standing up and walking over to Harry's trunk. "I'll explain it to him later. ALOHOMORA!"

The trunk flew open.

He began to dig frantically through Harry's things. He pushed aside the Pocket Sneakoscope and lifted a spellbook, finally spotting what he had been searching for: the Marauder's Map. He took his wand from his pocket, tapped it lightly to the paper, and whispered, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good." Lines began to scrawl their way across the old piece of parchment. His eyes scanned the newly formed map of Hogwarts.

"There he is," he said relieved, as he recognized the form of Harry walking through the corridors, only--"Hold on...that's not Harry." He looked at the name next to Harry's body, and in an instant the day's events were explained. He didn't have much time. Tonks was walking slowly now, because some classes had just let out and students flooded through the halls, but soon she would be with Ginny. He threw aside the map and ran.

~*~*~

A door opened, and light flooded into the room for a moment. It snapped shut, locks clicking.

"Hello, Ginny," said a voice in the complete darkness. A charm was muttered and the floating candle was relit.

The sweet redheaded girl lifted her head. The light shone once again on her face to reveal a glossy bruise. She had fallen hard when Tonks stunned her.

"You bastard," Ginny spat, struggling against the rusted shackles.

Tonks walked to her, laying a hand gently on her pale, freckled face. "Shhh," she cooed, pressing her other hand to Ginny's lips. "It's going to be ok, my love." Harry's face twitched into a smile. "We'll be done by morning."

She jerked her face away, a saline tear falling from her cheek. She had always imagined Harry touching her like this. Something so intimate, something so much an object of her desires, made this experience so much worse.

"What are you going to do to me?" she asked, trying and failing to seem undaunted.

"Whatever it takes."

*FLASHBACK*

Tonks lay in St. Mungos, eating custard. She had received a nasty head injury during the fight at the Ministry of Magic. Harry and his friends had gone looking for Sirius, convinced that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would get to him. It had been a huge mess.

"Hello, Tonks."

She looked over and saw Voldemort, his devilish red eyes piercing through the dim light of the moon, which poured in through an open window. Panicking, she flung her body at the side table, trying to get to her wand. But Voldemort was too quick, and he pinned her to the bed by her throat.

"What are you going to do to me?" she spat indignantly.

"Whatever it takes." He laughed.

Her mind had been weakened by her injury. It didn't take much for him to crack her, to mold her mind the way he wanted to. It had only taken a few hours, and it left the new Tonks with the insatiable hunger to do the same to another being, to dissolve someone until they could fit in the mold that was suitable for her complex agenda...

*FLASH FORWARD*

"I don't understand, Harry. What's happened to you?" Ginny's tears came stronger now, "You can tell me anything; we can talk...I can help you--"

"SILENCE!" Tonks bellowed, flinging back an arm and slapping Ginny full across her face where she had already had a bruise. She screamed in pain.

Tonks closed her eyes, tilting her head back in ecstasy. "Ah. That's better." She grabbed Ginny's tearstained face and jerked it back up to look toward her. "From this point on you'll do less talking, or I'll make you do more screaming. Understand?"

Ginny nodded her head, sobbing uncontrollably. She had never felt more exposed, or more betrayed, in her entire life. Not even when Tom Riddle had turned on her...

"Good. Now then, we'll start out slow. We'll make it a game. How's that sound?" Tonks waited for Ginny to respond, but she didn't. Tonks was smiling again. "Good girl. Silence is the first rule of the game. You're adjusting very well." Tonks caressed Ginny's face again.

"The game is this: I'll begin to do things to you, small things at first, and you'll try not to scream. If you scream, you lose something. It could be a fingernail to begin with, or an article of clothing; things of the like." She stroked Ginny's face again, softly. "You're mine now, puppy...Harry's gonna make you bark." Tonks giggled. "Ready to play?"

~*~*~

Harry had been trying for the last twenty minutes to rip himself from the wall. The chains had dug deep into his arms, making blood run down into his face. He cried out in pain and frustration. The saltiness of his sweat stung like needles in his eyes, and his vision was obscured by crimson secretion. Through this he could make out only the candlelight as it flickered tenderly, like an evil beacon calling him home, encouraging him to lose his will.

To conserve what was left of his energy, Harry went limp, catching his breath. He was losing a lot of blood, he realized numbly, but there was little he could do. Within minutes, he had begun to convulse violently, until he finally lost consciousness.

He was floating through the school. Out of the broom closet his body flew, self-propelled. One corridor after the other he took the course Tonks must have taken to get to Ginny not long before. He flew into a broom closet on the other side of the school and landed softly. He watched in terror as his impostor unbuttoned Ginny's shirt slowly, whispering something in her ear.

Harry's mind then became muddled. Scenes flashed before his mind's eye. Scenes from his past with Ginny; Scenes of things that had not yet come to pass: Ginny being tortured, scalding potions and illegal spells. They flickered uncontrollably in and out of his mind, like a faulty florescent light that caused a blinding pain in his mind's eye.

He gasped, suddenly regaining awareness. He had only been out for a few seconds, but he somehow he was certain he knew everything he needed to know. Within him arose a greater passion than had ever been before. He closed his eyes, power surging through him, and the shackles magically split open, causing him to fall headlong into the soiled flooring. He tried to stand, but fell over, not being able to support his own weight. After much trial and error, he found his footing and staggered out of the room, running as fast as his legs would allow him.

~*~*~

Ron turned a corner and came upon an extremely ugly gargoyle. He hunched over wheezing, his hands on his knees. Still breathing heavily, he straightened himself.

"Bugger, I need a password," he mumbled. "Er...Fainting Fancies? No. Er...Canary Creams?"

The statue sprang to life and hopped aside as the wall behind it split in two. He ran up the revolving staircase and burst into Dumbledore's office, which people seemed to be doing a lot of that day. Madame Pomfrey jumped from her seat, still easily shaken.

"Hermione!" Ron yelled, running over to her. He grabbed her arms and pulled her up into his embrace. "I was so scared I'd lost you," he whispered, running his hand through her bushy hair and holding her tighter. Remembering the urgency of the situation at hand, he untangled himself from Hermione and turned to face Dumbledore. "Tonks is here. She's been going around looking like all of us."

"She's the leak?" Hermione asked.

"Leak? No. Um, I don't know," Ron said. "But we don't have time to discuss it now. I don't know what's going on, but she's got Ginny locked up on the third floor and she was heading that way. We have to get there. Now."

Dumbledore nodded, "Lead the way."

~*~*~

Ginny yelled as the door of the broom closet flew open magically. Harry appeared outside the door just moments later. Tonks raised Harry's wand to him as he entered.

"Don't move another inch!" Tonks roared.

Harry looked over to Ginny, who looked back at him, dazed. She wasn't all there; the pain had already begun to take a toll on her. Her blouse was unbuttoned, as it had been in Harry's vision. The flesh on her stomach had been burned in a few spots, and her face was swollen.

"Let her go, Tonks."

The fake Harry threw his head back, laughing.

"Harry," Tonks said, still with laughter in her voice. "I have your wand. What exactly is my incentive to give her up?"

"I still have power. I managed to free myself, didn't I?"

Tonks tilted her head. "Yes, your efforts are very admirable, but I'm still going to have my way with her." She raised Harry's wand in the air and began to bring it down yelling, "CRUCI--"

"NOOO!" Harry yelled.

Tonks halted just in time.

"If you want me to stop, you have to give me the prophecy."

Harry thought for a moment, torn. He looked at Ginny, knowing it would be so simple to save her.

"The prophecy...only Voldemort can kill Harry...and Harry, Voldemort...He will have powers the Dark Lord knows not," Ginny uttered, still half-unconscious and unaware of what was happening around her.

"Ginny!" moaned Harry.

"Is that so? Well if that's true, then I can't kill you right now?" She began to laugh again. "You have no wand, no friends here, and just look at you: you're barely standing. If that's true, there'd have to be some kind of miracle to stop me...Let's put it to the test, shall we?" She raised Harry's wand again. "Master will be so pleased."

Right as her mouth opened to recite the killing curse, the wand flew from her hand, past Harry's face, and out the door.

"No," Tonks croaked.

Dumbledore came walking into the room, followed by Ron, Hermione, and a very terrified Madame Pomfrey. He raised his wand, and from it a flash of blue-white light erupted through the room, forcing Tonks to reveal herself in her natural form.

Tonks backed away slowly. She tripped and fell, but continued to crawl until a wall inhibited her further progress. "No...n-no...this isn't how it was supposed to happen...oh no...he'll be so angry at me..."

I knew I shouldn't have entrusted you with this task, a soft, cruel voice whispered in her head.

Tonks grabbed her hair and began to pull on it, whimpering, rocking her body back and forth.

You were a nothing when I first came to you...how foolish of me to think you were good for anything...that I could use you, it continued.

"No...no, you can use me...I can do better, I swear," she cried, still swaying her body.

Your heart was never in it...I can hear what you're thinking in the deepest recesses of your mind. You are not, as you should be, a shell. There is still a foolish, heroic part of you that fights me.

"No...I used to know them, though...they were my friends...I don't want to hurt them...shut up idiot child, we serve the Dark Lord now...No! We serve Dumbledore. We serve the Order...No wonder we failed, you can't choose the winning side...No...Bring me back..." Then she cracked and was neither of her two identities. The part of her that was still the Tonks they had all once known was gone, as was the Tonks she had become when Voldemort had gone to her and tortured her. "Stop looking at me! Those eyes are like gasoline potholes. WHO LET YOU IN HERE? You're not supposed to be here...did they let you in the gate?" She began to scream hysterically. Incoherent, anguished words that none among those who stood watch would ever understand.

That's how she was when a St. Mungos crew arrived to haul her away. She was still curled up against the wall, rocking back and forth, screaming into the black oblivion of her own lost identity. Harry held Ginny in his arms as they all watched her leave. He thought to himself that he would never forget the sound, that in that instant he felt the sorriest of all for Tonks. He assumed Ginny felt bad for Tonks as well, though she would never say so. After all, they could both relate to her, both knew what it meant to be possessed by Voldemort; the feeling that you would never be clean again.

Later, Dumbledore got a letter from the Ministry. It said that St. Mungo's records showed a small man fitting the description of Peter Pettigrew signing in as a visitor. It dated around the same time as when Tonks was hospitalized for a head injury after the fight in the Ministry at the end of their Fifth year. It was nearly time for lights-out when Dumbledore had notified them of this by owl. The four of them--Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione--were sitting huddled up under a blanket in front of the crackling fire as Harry read Dumbledore's note aloud.

"So that's when Voldemort got to her," Ron said once Harry had finished, shaking his head.

"Suppose so," Harry said back.

"I still can't believe it happened," Ginny said, then grabbed her stomach in pain. "Ow...Well, maybe I can."

Ron eyed her with concern.

"I'm fine, really. I'm more concerned about Madame Pomfrey, actually."

"Yeah," agreed Hermione. "Can you imagine? She's too traumatized to speak. Locked herself up in her store cupboard."

Ron waved a hand. "She'll be fine by tomorrow. It's not like she thought her parents were dead, or that her girlfriend was raped, or that she was going to be tortured to death."

Hermione looked at him disapprovingly. "Be sensitive."

"By the way Ron," Harry cut in, much to Ron's relief. "How did you know about Tonks?"

"Oh...right. I used the Marauder's Map. Didn't think you'd mind my borrowing it, considering I used it to save your arse, for a change."

"You put it back afterwards, right?"

"Er...yeah, I think so."

"Well you at least erased it?"

"Erm..."

"Ron!"

"I'm pretty sure I did erase it. I'm sure no one's seen it, anyways," Ron affirmed, but Harry noted the uncertainty in his voice.

Both boys looked at each other for a moment before both suddenly jumping up from the couch. They ran pushing each other up the stairs; Harry yelling, Ron cursing.

They both searched the dorm frantically, but--"It's not here!" Harry bellowed.

"Where the hell is it, then?"

~*~*~

*FINITE INCANTATEM*

~*~*~