Harry Potter and the Watcher's Council

"Passion. It lies in all of us. Sleeping, waiting. And though unwanted... unbidden... it will stir, open its jaws, and howl. It speaks to us, guides us... Passion rules us all. And we obey. What other choice do we have?" -Angelus, Passion

"Please, Madam Pomfrey? I'm telling you, I can't possibly rest any more than I already have done. I feel fine!"

Madam Pomfrey frowned at her patient, then heaved a great sigh. "Oh, all right then. I suppose you can rest in your dormitory, after all. But don't overexert yourself at the Feast tonight," she warned Harry, "or you'll have me to answer to!"

"Yes, ma'am," Harry said meekly. He grinned at Ron and Hermione, who were standing by his cot, having come for a visit. He waited until the nurse had gone, then swung his legs over the side of the cot and prepared to stand up. His muscles still ached, even after two days of being in the infirmary, but Harry couldn't stand to stay there any longer. And he didn't want to miss the Halloween Feast that night, either. Halloween was always absolutely terrific at Howarts--decorations, real live flying bats, and the House-Elves always outdid themselves with the Feast.

"Give me a hand, Ron," Harry said, gingerly placing his stockinged feet on the tile floor. "My muscles are still a bit on the shaky side." Ron helped him up, and Harry was relieved to find that, although he was still sore and aching from his crash, his legs seemed to be holding up just fine and he could walk without assistance.

The trio left the infirmary and made their way to the Gryffindor common room. It was a Monday afternoon; luckily Ron and Hermione had a free period, or else they wouldn't have been able to help Harry convince Pomfrey to let him go. The common room was deserted, as most of the other Gryffindors were in class. Harry sank gratefully into a squashy chair by the fire the second they climbed through the portrait hole.

"I've brought you the homework from Charms, Harry," Hermione told him, taking the chair opposite him and beginning to rifle through her very full bag. "You missed Glamour Charms. It was really very enlightening. We can go over it now, if you like."

"Thanks Hermione, but I'm really more interested in whether you've found out anything about Slayers yet? Or Buffy in particular?" Hermione flushed and Harry saw her sneak a surreptitious glance at Ron before answering.

"Well, we had a lot of work to do this weekend, I'm trying really hard to master that Locator Spell Willow taught us last week..."

Harry glanced at Ron, his eyebrows raised. They'd had a whole weekend free, without even Quidditch practice to worry about, and they hadn't done any research? Ron saw his questioning glance and shrugged his shoulders.

"Don't look at me, mate," he said, "I'm really just there for moral support. She's the one that does all the thinking."

"Well, what do we know?" Harry asked, exasperated. If he didn't know better, he'd think that Ron and Hermione didn't care what their Defense professors were up to. Harry liked Buffy and Willow--respected them, even--but they were definitely up to something. He was sick of seeing his friends hurt, Harry thought grimly, and if that meant being a bit paranoid about things, then so be it. He refused to be responsible for anything bad happening at Hogwarts. If something happened to Ron or Hermione, he didn't think he could bear it.

"Well," said Hermione, pulling out a notepad from her bag, "so far we don't know much. We know that when a Slayer dies, another is called. Buffy is the oldest Slayer on record." Hermione frowned thoughtfully. "She's only twenty-one. They don't have a very long life expectancy, do they?"

"So one girl dies, and another girl is chosen to take her place?" Harry asked. "If Buffy has died twice, then shouldn't there be loads of Slayers running about?"

"Well technically speaking, Buffy isn't the active Slayer. She was killed by the Master four years ago, and another girl was called to take her place. So that other girl must be the Slayer. Only I don't suppose she could just give it up or something. She's still got the powers and all," Hermione said.

Harry sighed to himself. They didn't know much, that was true, and without actually asking Buffy or Willow about it, he didn't expect they'd learn much else. They'd been through most of the books in the Hogwarts library, and none of them so much as mentioned the Slayer, or the Watcher's Council, or anyone called Faith. There'd been a section on the Master in an outdated text entitled Everything You Ever Wanted to Know about Vampires But Were Afraid to Ask. All that book had said was that the Master was the oldest vampire on record and currently resided beneath a mystical barrier in America. Hermione had found mention of the Judge--the demon Malfoy had been so keen about in detention--in several books, but they all said the same basic thing: took an army to stop him, no weapon forged could kill him. None of which was useful to them at all.

"It doesn't seem fair, does it?" Ron said, settling himself on the carpet in front of the fire. "I mean, one day you're just some normal teenage girl wondering whether John will ask you to the formal, and then--bam! You've got a sacred duty to fulfill that will probably get you killed. Quickly."

Harry frowned. Ron's words reminded him of something Buffy had said, something about having a destiny... "That's it!" he said excitedly.

Ron sent him a confused look. "It is?"

"Listen, do you remember back in detention, when I sort of, er, had that attack?"

"You mean that time you blew up all of Snape's pickled rat brains in a fit of rage?" Hermione asked. "No, I'd completely forgotten. Must have slipped my mind somehow." She rolled her eyes.

"Er, right," Harry said, embarrassed. "The point isn't the rat brain thing. Buffy came to talk to me after, and she said something about a British man telling her she had a destiny."

Hermione's eyes lit up in sudden understanding, and a small smile played about her lips. "And the first day of class, do you remember what she said when she told us about being the Slayer?"

"You mean the thing about dying before she could vote? Or the way she insulted our nationality? That was kind of rude, now that I think about it," Ron said. "She seems to have something against the British. Thinks all we do is drink tea and eat scones."

Hermione huffed. "Honestly, Ron. Be serious for once. She said that she missed the vampire's heart, her first time out, and she would've died right then if it hadn't been for..."

"Her Watcher," Harry completed her thought triumphantly. They grinned at each other.

"So what you're trying to tell me is that some British bloke calling himself Watcher told Buffy she's the Slayer?" Ron asked, confused.

Harry frowned. "Well, I guess we really still don't really know anything for certain. This Watcher fellow, he helped Buffy kill that first vampire, right? So maybe he's not just some bloke they send out the one time, to inform girls of their sacred duty."

"No," Hermione said with a dawning realization, "it's really very simple, isn't it? He's a Watcher. He Watches. He's like her... her boss or something."

"Only, where is he now?" Ron asked. "If his job is to Watch her, what's she doing at Hogwarts without him? Plus, can you really picture Buffy taking orders from some stodgy British guy? And, I hate to be the constant bearer of bad news, but that still doesn't tell us why they might possibly need a student."

"No," said Hermione slowly, "but it does explain what the Watcher's Council is. It should've been obvious from the beginning! Remember what Willow told us about the creation of the Slayer? A group of men seeking to keep the world safe from the vampires and demons invoked druid earth magics to create the Slayer. The Watcher's Council must have evolved from those original creators!"

"If the Council created the Slayer and is supposed to Watch her, then why did Buffy quit?" Harry asked, biting his lip. "What if she's not working for them anymore because, well, because she's working against them?" His gaze flitted from Hermione's drawn expression to Ron's worried eyes. "She could be some kind of, of rogue Slayer. That would certainly explain the lack of Watcher. And if that's the case, someone at Hogwarts is in grave danger."

Just then the portrait hole swung forward, admitting a raucous group of fifth and sixth years returning from afternoon classes. "Harry!" Ginny said when she saw him. She, along with Seamus and Colin, came over to join them at the fire.

"Pomfrey finally let you out, eh?" Seamus asked with a grin. "Brilliant catch, by the way. Been meaning to tell you, only that old dragon wouldn't let any of us in to see you! Said we'd be interfering with your rest."

Harry grinned at him, his worries about the Slayer momentarily forgotten. "It was good, wasn't it? Wish I could have seen Malfoy's face when he realized I'd actually seen the Snitch."

"He had a terrible fit right there on the pitch," Colin said cheerfully. "He's got no one to blame but himself, though. Should've realized you wouldn't fake a dive so close to the stands."

"Are you coming to the Feast?" Ginny asked. "Only, I don't suppose you're up to it Harry." She sounded a bit put out, but patted him reassuringly on the arm.

Harry stood up. "Of course I'm going. It's Halloween! I can't miss the pumpkin pasties, and I heard Dumbledore's got some famous band to play during dinner."

"Great!" Hermione grinned mischievously. "Maybe there'll be dancing. You'll have to save a slot on your card for me, Harry," she said with a wink.

Harry sat back down abruptly. He hated dancing. Faced with fighting off a load of dementors or dancing, he'd take the dementors. "I'm feeling a bit woozy, actually," he lied. After two days straight in bed, he had more energy than he knew what to do with. "Maybe I'll stay here, and someone could just bring me a few pasties?"

Ginny grabbed Harry's right arm and Hermione grabbed his left, and together they hauled him out of his chair and frog-marched him through the portrait hole. "You're going to the Feast, you're going to dance, and you're going to have fun!" Hermione commanded.

"Ron!" Harry craned his neck around to send a pleading look toward his friend. Ron was too busy talking to Seamus and Colin to notice.

"Did you see that save I made just after the rain really started coming down?" Ron was saying enthusiastically. "Pucey was aiming for the right hoop, but something about the way he held himself, I just knew, and sure enough he went for the left at the last second!"

Harry turned back to Hermione and Ginny, who were carrying on their own conversation in excited whispers on either side of him. "And you'll never guess who was in there with her!" Ginny said, gripping Harry's arm even tighter in her excitement.

"Ow, Ginny!" Harry complained.

"Sorry, Harry. But it's just too awful! You'll never guess," she said to Hermione, clearly wanting the other girl to give it a go anyway.

"Er, Michael Corner?" Hermione ventured.

Ginny shook her head. "Guess again."

"Dean?"

"Nope. Oh, you'll never get it. She was in there with what's her name, Marietta Edgecomb. I heard she spent all summer at St. Mungo's, getting those spots removed. She looked all right in the cupboard with Cho, that's for certain," Ginny giggled.

Harry's startled gaze flew to Ginny's laughing face. Hermione gasped. "But surely they weren't, you know!" Hermione said, utterly scandalized.

"Oh, but they were!" Ginny said. "I guess things didn't work out with Michael for a reason. Oh, sorry Harry. I know you were kind of seeing her last year. But I'm sure it's no reflection on you, of course." Ginny gave his arm a little squeeze.

Harry shrugged, willing himself not to think about what Ginny had just told Hermione. What Cho did in broom cupboards was none of his business, he told himself firmly. Upon reflection he found that it didn't really bother him all that much. His infatuation with the dark haired Ravenclaw had been well over by the end of his fifth year. Besides, he had more important things to worry about than who Cho was kissing these days.

"That's all right," he told Ginny. "She wasn't a very good kisser anyhow." He grimaced, remembering his one kiss with Cho. She'd cried. It had been awful.

They entered the Great Hall to find it already full of students and professors mingling and trying unsuccessfully to avoid the swooping swarms of live bats Professor Flitwick had conjured for the occasion. The long tables, Harry saw with relief, were still firmly in place. He didn't think there'd be room for dancing, although a band was setting up to the left of the head table.

"Oh!" Ginny said when she saw the band. "That's Heisenburg's Handyman. They're supposed to be really good." The Gryffindors found seats near the center of the table, Hermione and Ginny finally relinquishing their hold on Harry after forcing him to promise he wouldn't turn and run if they let go.

The Feast itself was magnificent. The House-Elves had really outdone themselves this year. There were hams and meat pies, roast chicken and lamb, and pumpkin had been incorporated into every dish somehow or other. "I wonder if the House-Elves have been watching Iron Chef?" Dennis Creevey said to a third year girl.

"Iron what?" she asked, heaping her plate high with meat pie.

Harry turned his attention to his plate, on which he'd piled a bit of everything. The food was delicious, but he thought it would be a long time before he wanted to even see another pumpkin after this. The band started to play a very loud, fast paced song, so that after a bit everyone gave up trying to make conversation and simply bobbed in time to the music. Ginny leaped up at the sound of the music and pulled Hermione into the aisle between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables to dance. Soon Parvati and Lavender joined them, although Hermione wasn't doing much dancing. Harry felt a bit sorry for her; everyone was watching them, and she looked extremely uncomfortable. That was, until she marched over to him and Ron and demanded they join her.

"You have to!" she told them. "Harry, you promised." She pointed to the group of girls between the tables. They were giggling and dancing around to the music.

"I did no such thing!" Harry said, but Hermione grabbed them both by the hand and yanked. Exchanging tortured glances, Harry and Ron allowed themselves to be dragged over to the group of dancing Gryffindors. They had just reached Ginny and the rest when a thunderous boom rang through the hall as the double doors flew open with such force that they slammed into the stone walls on either side of the arched entrance. The band stopped playing abruptly. Harry craned his neck toward the entrance, trying to see what all the ruckus was about.

Harry strained his neck, standing on his tiptoes, but he couldn't see anything but loads of black pointed hats. Ron, who was tall enough to see over everyone else, turned to look as well. "It's Hagrid," he told Harry in a low voice. "He looks... he looks awful!"

"Professor Dumbledore, sir!" Hagrid gasped, pushing his way through the students until he reached the head table. "You've got to come quick, sir! They're everywhere, coming out of the forest, they are!" He sounded out of breath, as if he'd run all the way from his hut, but his face was gray and haggard. "Dementors, sir!"

At the word 'dementors' a first year screamed and the hall erupted in a general panic, students shouting and running for the doors. "Silence!" Dumbledore said in a quiet but commanding voice. "Everyone return to your seats. Professors, please come with me."

The Professors all stood to follow Dumbledore. He turned to Buffy and Willow, and although Harry couldn't hear their words, he could tell that Buffy was arguing with the Headmaster. After a few moments she turned away angrily, but she and Willow did not follow the rest of the professors as they marched resolutely passed the House tables and out the doors of the Great Hall. Harry turned to follow automatically. If there were dementors at Hogwarts, he could help fight them. Inwardly he cringed at the idea, but this was what he was meant to do, after all--protect people, protect his friends.

Hermione grasped his sleeve as he turned to leave. He looked down at her hand on his arm, confused. "Harry, what are you doing?" she asked, her voice full of knowing dread.

"I've got to go with them, Hermione," he said, his green eyes shining with determination and a bit of anticipation as well. "I can help them."

Hermione stiffened and she dropped her hand from his sleeve. Reaching inside the pocket of her robes, she pulled out her wand. "Then I'm going too," she said.

"Hermione, no. There's no time to argue about this!" Harry's voice was urgent. He didn't want his friends in danger, that was the whole point of him going--to protect them!

"Then don't," said Ron, pulling out his wand as well. Ginny, Lavender, and Parvati all reached for their wands. Parvati looked like she might be sick right there, but her dark eyes were determined. All around them members of the D.A. were standing from their house tables, their wands out, ready to join the battle. Harry bit his lip, filled with indecision. This wasn't their fight, he thought frantically. If they were injured, it would be his fault. Nevertheless it gave him a feeling of incredible warmth that they were all willing to stand up with him in the face of this threat. He swallowed nervously.

Hermione gave him a tremulous smile. "This is the kind of thing we've been training for, Harry. I know you think this is your battle, that you've got to do it all, but it's not. It's our world too, Harry, and I'll be damned if I'm going to stand around and watch it be torn to pieces!" Her dark eyes were fierce, daring him to contradict her.

Harry gave in with a sigh. "Fine then. I can't stop you coming. Just don't get hurt, or I'll never forgive myself," he said.

They turned as a group to leave the Hall. About twenty D.A. members had joined Harry. They ran through the entrance hall at top speed and burst through the front doors of the castle onto a horrifying scene. Their teachers stood just to the left of the forest, surrounded by dementors. Professors Sinastra and Vector lay immobile on the ground; the rest were shooting Patronuses frantically at the dementors, who were closing in quickly. Professor Dumbledore conjured a powerful Patronus that charged at least thirty dementors down, but there were hundreds streaming out of the forest. There was no way the professors could contend with that many dementors alone.

"Let's go!" Harry yelled, running forward. "And remember, think happy thoughts!" He motioned to Ron, Ginny, and a few others to approach the dementors from the left, while Harry, Hermione and the rest ran to the right, creating an outer circle around the dementors, trapping the creatures between themselves and the professors. "Expecto Patronum!" Harry yelled, shooting a brilliant silver stag at the nearest group of dementors. They were like swarming ants on a bit of food, Harry thought to himself, disgusted, feeding off the life force of the witches and wizards around them.

All around him he heard the echoing cries of his fellow students as they surrounded the dementors and began conjuring their own Patronuses, surprising the hooded creatures with their attack. Luna stood a few feet away from him, her blond hair waving in the wind as she yelled her spell. A huge silver blob erupted from the tip of Luna's wand, driving several dementors into the forest. Susan Bones and Neville were with him as well, expelling Patronuses in the direction of the hooded creatures, their faces determined and fierce.

"Call your friends back, Potter!" Professor McGonagall yelled harshly from within the circle of dementors. Harry ignored her. If they left know, their teachers would die, he was sure of it.

"Expecto Patronum!" Harry yelled as his only response. Despite the awful feeling of cold despair threatening to overwhelm him, Harry forced himself to continue, pulling a sudden burst of strength from within that kept him conscious. A bright silver stag leapt once more from his wand tip and cantered toward the crowd of dementors, its antlers bowed to sweep them aside. Harry saw Ron's eagle Patronus sweeping around the circle of dementors, driving them away, while Ginny's tiger Patronus leaped at the crowd of hooded creatures. Harry could feel himself getting colder and colder, and his vision began to grow blurry, but he reached down deep inside himself to conjure up yet another Patronus.

Suddenly the air grew warmer, the cold, clammy feeling in his chest ebbed away, and Harry felt as if he could breathe freely again. The dementors were retreating into the forest at last. He was covered in a cold sweat and his hands were trembling. He felt utterly drained, but at the same time inexplicably elated. They had faced down a whole army of dementors and managed to drive them away, somehow.

His friends gathered around him, looking drained and pale, but with a light in their eyes that matched the high Harry was experiencing at their victory. Harry thought he knew what they were feeling--a sense of accomplishment, that they were finally doing something to fight the darkness that threatened their world and their lives.

"Potter!" Snape glared at the group of students on the lawn. "Just what do you think--"

He was cut off by Professor McGonagall, whose voice shook with anger and fear. "Utterly irresponsible, leading students into danger like that! What were you thinking? You could have been killed! You could have gotten them killed!" she yelled, her face pale and splotchy.

"But he didn't," Professor Dumbledore said quietly from behind her. "And for that, at least, we should be grateful."

"Please, Professor," Hermione spoke up, her voice earnest, "we had to help. And we did. It's not Harry's fault. He tried to stop us coming, but we couldn't let him go without us. This is our school, too," she added defiantly, "and we had to protect it!" Her voice trembled at contradicting a professor, but she stood straight, her shoulders back and her chin lifted, determined to defend Harry and take responsibility for herself. Harry felt a surge of gratitude for his friend and suddenly found himself blinking hard, trying to hold back tears. He was so lucky, he realized suddenly. So lucky to have friends like Hermione, friends willing to defend him and protect him the same way he wanted to do for them.

The other students were speaking up now, too, a barrage of voices proclaiming Harry's innocence. Seamus was pointing out that they'd saved all their teachers from certain death, while Justin Finch-Fletchley exclaimed loudly that rampaging hippogriffs couldn't have dragged him from the battle. They were all defending him to McGonagall, and the poor woman looked defeated and drained. Professor Dumbledore placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and, giving Harry a tiny wink, lead her toward the castle doors. The rest of the professors had just begun to follow, Snape muttering darkly as he did so, when a cry went up among the students.

"Ginny!" Dean yelled. "She was with me a few minutes ago, and now she's gone!" Harry felt as if someone had just punched him hard in the gut. All the blood drained from his head in a rush, leaving him trembling with fear. Ginny was missing. If something happened to her, he'd never forgive himself, he thought frantically. They had to find her!

"Oh no, oh no!" Professor Flitwick said, wringing his tiny hands. "She can't have gone far! Professors, spread out and search the forest. Poor girl must've gotten lost in there in all the confusion."

Harry knew no such thing had happened. Ginny was far too sensible to go anywhere near the forest, especially when the dementors had been retreating in that direction. "Harry," Hermione whispered urgently, "Harry, the map! If Ginny is still on school grounds, we should be able to find her with it!"

"It's in my trunk," he said glumly. "Oh, of course! Accio Marauder's Map!" he yelled out, praying frantically that his Summoning Charm would work. Ron's face was parchment white, his dusting of freckles standing out in stark contrast to his pale skin. "We'll find her, Ron," Harry said fervently, his eyes blazing. "I swear it."

The map came zooming out of an open seventh floor window and raced across the lawn. Harry caught it deftly and unrolled the old parchment. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good," he muttered, tapping the map with his wand. Immediately lines appeared on the parchment, spreading out to form a detailed map of the castle and grounds. Harry's eyes searched frantically for Ginny's name.

"I don't see her!" Ron said, his voice desolate. "Harry...!"

"There!" Hermione yelled. "At the edge of the forest. And, oh no! Look who's with her." Her voice had dropped to a terrified whisper. Harry stared at the small blue dot that represented Ginny in horror. Two more tiny dots moved about the map near Ginny, labeled "Bellatrix Lestrange" and "Lucius Malfoy." A feeling of immense calm and cold fury swept through him. Bellatrix had one of his friends, but she wasn't going to get away this time. No, Harry thought, this time she would die.

The map fell from his numb fingers as Harry stalked across the lawn to the forest, Ron and Hermione trailing a few paces behind him. The rest of the students watched them go. Harry faintly heard Parvati crying. All his concentration was focused on the forest as he headed toward the spot where he'd seen Ginny's name. They entered the forest quietly, not speaking as they swept passed the great trees, dead leaves crunching beneath their feet. From his left Harry could hear Professor Snape calling for Ginny, his voice sounding more human than Harry had ever thought possible. A sudden loud rustling coming from the bushes in front of them brought Harry up short. Stopping abruptly he held up a hand to Ron and Hermione, signaling that they should stay back. Harry approached the tangle of bushes, his wand held in front of him with a firm, steady hand. He half hoped it would be Lestrange. His rage was so great, he had no doubt that he could cast an Unforgivable curse at her. This time, he would succeed.

The bushes exploded suddenly with a force that knocked Harry straight into Hermione, and they went tumbling onto the forest floor. Harry's glasses flew off and he scrambled for them frantically, wondering hysterically if he was going to die all because he'd lost his glasses and couldn't see to defend himself. His fingers closed around metal and he hurried to put on the glasses. The world came into sharp focus and suddenly Ginny was there, stumbling from the wreckage of the bushes. Her eyes were wild and frantic as she lurched towards him, bleeding profusely from a long gash on her arm. "Harry!" she yelled, her voice a mixture of relief and pain. "Ron! We've got to get out of here!"

Ron caught her as she tripped over a root. Flinging her arm around his shoulders, Ron supported her as Harry and Hermione followed. "They're right behind me!" Ginny gasped. "Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange... they're here. How are they here?!"

Snape emerged from the trees ahead of them, his wand held before him with a steady hand. His dark eyes shone with a strange mixture of disgust, determination, and fury. "Potter," he spat, motioning for them to move quickly, toward the path out of the forest. "I should have known you'd do something so foolish as to go looking for the girl yourself. Are you trying to get yourself killed, or is it simply that you've got too many friends to keep up with? Looking to lose another with your recklessness?"

A sudden anger burned hot in Harry at Snape's words, which so exactly matched his own guilty feelings. Only when Snape said them, Harry felt defensive and angry, rather than guilt-ridden and upset. He glared at the Professor, his rage bubbling just beneath the surface, wishing that just this once he could hex Snape, really let him have it. Sirius had been right not to trust the man. He had been a Death Eater, a dark wizard, and always would be, regardless of what Dumbledore thought. Harry fingered his wand almost unconsciously as Snape's dark eyes dared him to try something.

"Harry, don't!" Ginny gasped. "We've got to get out of here now!" Harry blinked and suddenly his anger fled, leaving behind only worry for his friends and the desire to see them all safely back in the castle.

"Right," he said, turning away from Snape after a moment of thoughtful silence. "Come on, then. That cut looks bad, Ginny. We'd better take you to the hospital wing straight away."

They made their way back to the castle in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Harry's mind swirled frantically around several ideas at once, all fighting for dominance in his mind. Why had Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange tried to take Ginny? Were they after her in particular? And for that matter, how had Ginny managed to escape them so quickly? A sudden image flashed in his mind--Bellatrix kneeling on the floor before him, head bowed. "We have to get the girl," his dream self had said. "Yes master," Bellatrix's eager voice whispered in his mind, "she will be yours."

Could that conversation that he'd dreamed--his vision--possibly have been about Ginny? He'd never told Dumbledore about it like he'd promised Ron and Hermione. He'd had detention that night, had that fight with Malfoy, and in all the confusion he'd completely forgotten to speak to the headmaster about his dream. But is that really it? a sneaky little voice in the back of his mind piped up unexpectedly. Did you really just forget, or did you refrain from talking to the headmaster for a reason?

They reached the castle doors and hurried through them. Students huddled in small groups in the entryway and all along the corridors, whispering in hushed tones as the four of them passed through on their way to the hospital wing. Harry caught snatches of their conversations, bits and pieces that made him feel as if he were in some sort of play and didn't know the lines, and wasn't even really sure of the plot, for that matter. "...Shield Spell was absolutely unreal!" "...got his own army, I hear." "I heard five students died!"

Only days later, after the excitement of the attack had died down and things had pretty much returned to normal, did Harry find out what had happened inside the castle while he and his friends had been fighting off the dementors. Willow, it seemed, had done a particularly impressive spell that formed a shield of magical energy around the Great Hall—nothing had been able to get in or out while the barrier was in place. All of the students that hadn't gone out to fight were trapped inside the barrier, with the result that none of them had seen anything of the attack first hand and rumors spread like wildifre about what had actually happened.

Harry followed Ron and Ginny down the twisting corridors, trying to ignore the students around him. It would have been easier if they didn't seem to be staring at him so intently and whispering behind their hands. Just ahead, Ron and Ginny stopped suddenly. Ron's shoulders drew up, tense, and his voice was full of anger and a tired sort of desperation when he spoke. "Get out of the way, Malfoy."

Harry stepped up to stand on Ginny's other side, so that between him and Ron, nothing could happen to her. Malfoy's eyes flicked from Ron to Harry, then to Ginny, trembling with weakness between them. Behind him, Crabbe and Goyle stood menacingly, cracking their knuckles with strange grins on their faces. "Well," Malfoy said after a long moment, "isn't it just like a load of foolish Gryffindors, to go running off to save the day and end up getting themselves hurt instead." His lip curled at them in distaste. "You can't really think you've won."

Harry'd had enough. He strode forward quickly, his wand held straight in front of him. The very air around him seemed to crackle with a furious energy as he pressed the tip of his wand hard into Malfoy's chest, just above his heart.

"This is just the beginning," Harry said, his voice low and dangerous. His eyes, always bright, positively burned as he stared Malfoy down. "You think we don't know that? But we'll fight, and we'll keep on fighting, until we're free or we're dead! Because what's the point of living, if you've got to do it under the oppression of a psychopathic murderer? At least," he added, taking another step forward so that the two boys were only a few inches apart, "At least I'll have lived. I'm alive, which is more than I can say for you, if you don't get out of our way now."

Malfoy's icy silver eyes stared into his, returning his fury with equal fire. He didn't back down, Harry had to give him that, but that was the only thing Harry would give him. His father had just attacked the school with dementors and attempted to kidnap Ginny for who knows what reason. Harry's nerves had reached a point of tautness so great he could practically feel them straining against his skin, desperate for relief. If something didn't give, he would snap. He only hoped Malfoy would be the one to bear the brunt of his rage unleashed. He glared into Malfoy's eyes, daring the other boy to say something, anything--to give him the slightest excuse to let loose all his frustration and pain and anger onto the pale boy in front of him.

"What is the meaning of this?" Professor McGonagall's irate voice echoed down the corridor from a distance behind him. "You students should be in your common rooms! Go on, it's not safe here!" she hustled a group of Ravenclaws down the corridor. Harry knew she would notice the group of them in a moment, lecture them, maybe even give him a detention for threatening another student. At some point Harry knew he'd be dragged to Dumbledore's office, where they'd have a long, tiring discussion about the importance of his continued safety and maybe even a lecture about not judging people based on their parents' actions, but for now Harry couldn't force himself to care. His eyes focused unblinkingly on Malfoy, who stared back as if frozen in a pose of pure, unadulterated hatred. If he would only so much as twitch, move his wand arm just a bit, it would be enough of an excuse for Harry. After all the pain and death and anger and betrayal of the last few months, the world seemed to narrow to this--standing in a corridor with the one accessible person in this world he hated enough to hurt. He would destroy Malfoy if he could. At that moment, he felt he felt he could produce a perfect Cruciatus curse.

Then Malfoy did something that took Harry completely off guard. He held up his hands, palms facing Harry, and began backing away from him. Crabbe and Goyle wore identical looks of confusion, but followed Malfoy's lead, turning to leave the corridor and head toward the Slytherin common room. "If that's the way of it, Potter," he said calmly, his eyes unreadable in the shifting torch light of the corridor, "then consider me surrendered. Go on, get your little girlfriend to the infirmary. You've managed to damage someone tonight, and ironically enough it was one of the people you should have been protecting. You've won this battle. But it doesn't end here." He paused, his eyes deadly serious but a small smile playing about his lips. "No, it never ends." With that he turned his back on them and strode out of sight, his cloak swirling around the corner in a swish of black and green.

***********

After seeing Ginny to the hospital wing, Harry and Hermione left her there with Ron, who hovered protectively as if he expected Death Eaters to burst in at any moment. Hermione was unusually pensive as they climbed the many staircases to Gryffindor tower, a frown marring her forehead in what Harry suspected would quickly become permanent worry lines.

"It just doesn't seem right, does it?" she said suddenly, stopping in the middle of the seventh floor corridor.

"What doesn't?" Harry asked tiredly. After all the emotions of the day--his happiness during the Feast, the sense of inevitability during the attack, his fear when he'd realized Ginny was missing, and finally his anger at Malfoy--he couldn't feel anything at this point, not even interest in what Hermione was saying. He felt numb and drained. Nothing seemed to matter; all he wanted to do was climb into his bed and sleep. He had given so much of himself. He had nothing left, not even for Hermione. He began walking again, not caring if she thought he was rude.

"What would Lestrange and Malfoy want Ginny for?" she asked, following after Harry, her face a mask of confusion. "How did she escape so quickly? Maybe they grabbed the wrong person and let her go. But no, they wouldn't just let her go, would they?"

They reached the portrait of the Fat Lady and Harry climbed through, his mind blissfully blank as he let his body follow its usual patterns mechanically. Hermione was asking the same questions that he had been asking himself, but he just couldn't think about it now. He headed toward dormitory stairs, leaving Hermione staring after him in the center of the common room, a look of dumb shock on her face. He'd never just walked away from her before. He knew that he was probably hurting her, but his brain simply refused to process anything further.

"Harry, are you even listening to me?" she called after him. "Are you just... are you just going to walk away?" The aching quality of her words made him pause on the third stair.

"I just can't do this right now," he said, his back to her. He gripped the railing of the staircase with a clammy hand, willing himself onward.

"I... I understand," she said finally, her voice cracking with emotion.

"No, you don't understand. You can never understand. No one can." Harry's voice was quiet and devoid of emotion. As he made his way up to his room, he could hear Hermione sobbing quietly in the empty common room. He would have to make it up to her later, he knew, but for now... He focused on his bed, and sleep... Sleep, where his mind would be empty of the day's events and he could pretend, if only a few hours, that he was a normal boy again.

A dreamless sleep was not to be. He dreamed again that night--of the club and the Sirius of Snape's youth. They sat at a high round table, sipping fizzy drinks and listening to the band play as if they were out for a night on the town. The club was dark as, lit only by strange colored lights on the ceiling that spun around, sending their beams in all different directions. Sirius sat across from him, his face layered in shadows, his lips curved in a frown. He tossed his hair out of his eyes impatiently and leaned forward, gesturing for Harry to do the same.

He brought his mouth close to Harry's ear. "Fear no more the heat o' the sun, nor the furious winter's rages," he whispered, his breath strangely cold in Harry's ear. Harry drew back uncertainly, confusion written clearly on his young face. Sirius's dark eyes bored into his, then shifted to the crowd of dancers.

The flickering lights settled briefly on a couple near the edge of the dance floor. Their backs were to him, the girl dancing seductively to the slow, heavy strains of the music while the boy watched, letting his hands slide from her hands raised above her head, down her arms and sides to grasp her hips firmly. Even in the dim lighting there was no mistaking the boy--Harry knew of no one but Draco Malfoy with hair that color. The music grew louder and louder, until the words of the song were all he could hear.

I will burn for you, feel pain for you. I will twist the knife that bleeds my aching heart, and tear it apart. I will lie for you, beg and steal for you. I will crawl on hands and knees until you see, you're just like me...

Draco's head bent toward the girl, whispering something in her ear and she turned to face him, her red hair whipping around in a vibrant circle of color--Ginny. With a sudden shock of movement and blur of color and space as if he'd just been transported by a Portkey, Harry was Draco, standing on the dance floor with Ginny in his arms, staring up at him. Her eyes were dark, almost black, and he lost himself in their depths and time split its husk, expanding in an impossibly endless moment. Moments like this are buds on the tree of life, flowers of darkness they are, he thought as he fell deeper and deeper into her gaze.

She began to sing in earnest, over the words of the song that played around them. Harry felt as if he were drowning in the music itself, the waves of its hypnotic rhythm crashing over him again and again, until all he could do was hold onto Ginny as tight as he dared, unable to let go.

"Violate all the love that I'm missing. Throw away all the pain that I'm living. You will believe in me. And I can never be ignored..." Her voice resounded in his ears, low and husky, and his mind wrapped itself around her words, seeking shelter from the storm of music. Her fingers trailed from his shoulders up his neck to tangle in the hair at his nape. Tightening her grip on his head almost painfully, she leaned up and pressed her lips fiercely against his.

Her lips were burning hot against his, mirroring the scorching intensity of his emotions, the keenness with which he felt that brief kiss. He felt it deeply, to his core; this was the first thing that had felt truly right and so singularly perfect to him since Sirius's death.

The moment thoughts of Sirius entered his mind she pulled away, leaving him feeling strangely empty and cold. She backed away from him slowly, letting her hands fall gracefully to her sides. Her hair began to darken and shorten, the delicate bones in her face shifted, became more angular, until she was Ginny no longer, and Sirius once again stood before him.

"When sorrows come, they come not in single spies, but in battalions," he said. He turned his back on Harry and began walking away slowly. Harry was beginning to hate these dreams, dreams that made him feel the joy of being with Sirius once again immediately followed by the immeasurable pain of losing him all over. He watched Sirius's retreating back with a mixture of pain, longing, and anger. Sirius glanced back over his shoulder at Harry one last time. "You have to know what to see."

*************

Harry woke with a start, his heart pounding hard and irregularly in his ears. The exact images of the dream were vague and soft with sleep, but the panic of his racing heart, the sweat that soaked his pajamas and the dull throbbing of his scar were all too painfully real. Reaching for his glasses Harry kicked off his blankets and stood on shaky legs. No matter what his reasoning had been before, he had to go to Dumbledore now. He felt it deep in his gut--something was coming, something big. He wanted answers.

Drawing back the bed hangings carefully, Harry opened his trunk as quietly as he could and rummaged around until he found what he was looking for--his father's old Invisibility Cloak. Taking a deep breath he pulled the cloak on, letting the silky, liquid-like fabric settle around him.

As he made his way as quickly and quietly as possible along the deserted corridors, Harry tried desperately to remember the specifics of his dream. Sirius had been there, of that he was certain, and someone else close to him too. It was the emotions he remembered most--the overwhelming feeling of betrayal, followed immediately by a sense of perfect rightness, then loss, pain, and confusion. And something about the sun, and spies... what had Sirius been trying to tell him?

Because now, after two of these dreams, Harry was certain that they couldn't be ordinary productions of his unconscious mind. Somehow, someway, Sirius was sending him messages, trying to tell him something. Trying to... to warn him? If only he could remember his words!

More quickly than he'd thought possible, Harry found himself in front of the gargoyle that guarded the headmaster's office. He had no idea what time it was, or, he realized, what he planned to say to the headmaster once he wakened him. He could just imagine how the conversation would play out.

"Er, excuse me Professor, but I've had another nightmare," Harry would say.

Dumbledore would nod thoughtfully and appear concerned. "Yes, I rather expected as much," he would tell Harry gravely. "As Voldemort's power increases, so too will the frequency and vibrancy of your visions."

"No sir. I mean, this dream was different. It was... I think it was from Sirius."

And then Dumbledore would look even more concerned, and worry if perhaps Harry had finally lost it. He'd realize that, with Harry as its only hope of salvation, the wizarding world was doomed and they might as well give up to Voldemort sooner, while lives could still be spared, rather than later.

No, Harry decided suddenly, he couldn't go to Dumbledore with this. The old man was counting on him to fulfill the prophecy. He truly believed that somehow, someway, Harry could defeat the greatest dark wizard since Salazar Slytherin himself. If anything, Harry thought bitterly, he couldn't take away the hope of an old man, the one man who might actually be able to save them. Turning his back on the gargoyle, Harry made his way despondently back to his dormitory. Buffy was right, after all. Her words echoed in his head as he climbed back into bed and pulled the hangings, laying down for what he knew would be another restless night. "In the end you're always by yourself. You're all you've got..."

He closed his eyes, but sleep refused to take him.

*********

Over the next few weeks Harry threw himself into his studies and practices in a vain attempt to drown out the sneaking suspicions in his head and to so thoroughly exhaust himself that the dreams could not come. He worked long hours in the common room, going over his essays with more rigor than was strictly necessary, to the surprise of Ron and the delight of Hermione, who, he suspected, finally felt as if they had something in common. Quidditch practices became more brutal than ever. Harry drove his team hard, knowing that his Beaters had to shape up if they were going to defeat Ravenclaw in their next match, which take place shortly after the holidays.

D.A. meetings were equally driven, with Harry drilling the group in all manner of hexes, curses, and jinxes. By the end of November they'd all successfully mastered the Slashing Hex, Jumping Jinx, and Implosion Curse. In what little spare time he made for himself, Harry began helping Hermione with her potion making and research. They had nearly completely the Chronos Concoction and were just beginning the speed and agility potion.

Harry found he had no trouble keeping himself too busy to think, with everything he had going on. His classes, Quidditch, and the D.A. kept him busy enough, but he had additional lessons to contend with as well. His Occlumency lessons had been going well, and helped to exhaust him so completely that, if it weren't for Snape's continued hostility toward him, Harry would almost look forward to them. His lessons with Willow were tiring in a different way; after each lesson he found himself more frustrated with his inability to accomplish even the smallest bits of wandless spells, aside from turning people into rats, which Harry didn't see as being terribly useful.

"Harry, are you even trying?" Willow asked him one day, sounding just as frustrated as he felt. She was trying to teach him a simple spell that would allow him to conjure fire from thin air, but all he'd been able to do so far was produce the slightest bit of smoke. And even that time was probably just a trick of the lighting, Harry thought with a disappointed sigh.

"Look, I just can't do this. It's a waste of your time, trying to teach me," Harry said miserably.

"Whatever. I can teach you, but you have to want to learn. And if you're not going to try, then why should I even bother?" She frowned at him, her hands on her hips. "Now try again, and this time actually try. Remember, this is a concentration exercise. Don't worry too much about the words. Think fire," she commanded.

Harry concentrated hard, willing his mind to clear of all thoughts and focus only on the space between them. "In the spirit of Apollo, King of Sun and Fire, I call. Forces of fire, thee do my will. From air to fire... create!" All of his energy was focused on the words, the space in front of him, and the idea of fire. He was concentrating so hard that he almost didn't notice the sudden rush of heat running through him, bursting from his fingers and springing into the air, creating a small ball of fire.

"Concentrate, Harry," Willow whispered excitedly. "You can control the fire, it's connected to you. Try pushing it toward that desk over there."

Move, Harry thought at the fire, not realizing that he'd said the word out loud as well. The fire moved slowly but inexorably toward the desk. Move! he thought harder, and with a sudden lurch, the flames flew across the room. The desk promptly burst into flames, breaking Harry's concentration. He felt a sudden swoop of coldness in his gut and a strange feeling of loss as the force he'd been channeling left him. To his embarrassed horror the desk was burning merrily in the center of the classroom, the flames consuming it very close to threatening the chair beside it.

Willow merely waved her hand at it. "Extinguish!" she commanded. The fire died instantly, leaving the desk a charred, smoking heap.

"I've ruined that desk," Harry said in surprise. He shook his head.

"Harry," Willow said, smiling at him, "Harry, you did it! You conjured fire. Without crystals and those smelly herbs, even."

"It's just a small spell," Harry said, although he was secretly pleased with himself. He smiled. "I really did it, didn't I?"

"That's a big, fiery yes," Willow said. "Now go away. I have papers to grade. You guys should think about getting some computers in here. You would not believe some of the handwriting I have to deal with!"

Harry retrieved his bag from Willow's desk and headed back to Gryffindor, where he needed to begin his Potions essay on the importance of rosemary for memory potions. In class the week before they had begun a particularly difficult memory potion that took two weeks to brew. The potion itself would induce the drinker to relive repressed memories—primarily in the form of dreams--hidden within his unconscious mind. Snape had hinted that they would be testing their potions on the last day of the term, and Harry knew his needed to be perfect. Snape could very well kick him out of the class after this term.

He was just rounding the corner on the third floor corridor when the sound of two people speaking in hushed, angry tones echoed down the stone walls. He crept closer, sticking to the shadows, and saw two figures on the stair ahead.

"Why are you doing this, Weasley?" Draco Malfoy's arrogant tones caught his ear. His voice sounded confused and almost wishful. "I thought you and Potter..."

Harry moved closer at the sound of his name. The sight that greeted him shocked him to his core. There on the stair, hidden in the shadows, stood Draco Malfoy and Ginny. They stood apart, both looking extremely uncomfortable. Harry didn't know what to make of it. Ginny wasn't exactly being friendly with Malfoy, but neither were they fighting as they normally did. What could she be playing at, having a private conversation in a shadowy corridor with a Malfoy, of all people?

"Harry and I..." Ginny trailed off, looking far away, "...maybe at one time I would have been happy to have him. But now, after Tom... I can't."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "You crave the dark, is that it? Sick of perfect Potter and his oh-so-morally-superior friends?"

Ginny took a step back, surprise written clearly on her face. "No, it's nothing like that!" she said with more vehemence than Harry had known she could posses. "It's just... didn't you know? Harry looks like him. And sometimes... when I see him from a distance, or out of the corner of my eye, I think he is Tom, come back for me." She shuddered.

Harry turned away from them and strode back down the corridor toward the opposite stair, resolved not to listen in on their conversation any longer. He had heard enough--more than enough--and was surprised to find how hurt he was by Ginny's comments. He repulsed her, because he looked like Tom Riddle. Riddle, who had possessed her and stolen bits of her soul; Riddle, who had manipulated her for an entire year, taken away her free will and forced her to work his dark magics. And this was who Ginny saw when she looked at him? No wonder she had been avoiding him for weeks, ever since the incident with the dementors. She had been acting so strangely lately: leaving a room when he entered, changing direction in the halls between classes when she saw him coming, and if he did manage to catch her, she made hasty excuses and fled.

As he climbed the stairs to the seventh floor corridor, a rush of guilt and anger flooded him. He felt terrible that he reminded Ginny of her time with Riddle, but all the same, it wasn't his fault he looked like him. And why had it never been a problem before? Was it because he was older now, closer to the age Riddle had been when he'd preserved the memory of himself in his diary? And why couldn't Ginny differentiate between the two of them? He may resemble Riddle physically, but he was completely different in all other ways, all the important ways! Couldn't Ginny see past his exterior, to know that he wasn't anything like Riddle? How could she ever possibly think so?

Harry had worked himself into a fine rage by the time he reached the common room. He made his way over to Ron and Hermione, who were spending a rare night off from homework playing a game of chess. Ron was winning, of course; Hermione had never been a match for him, although she kept trying nonetheless. Harry pulled up a chair to their table and slumped miserably in it, drumming his fingers impatiently on the arm.

"Harry, do you mind?" Hermione asked, glaring at her chess pieces. "I'm trying to concentrate." Harry frowned at her. Her mood seemed to match his tonight. He wondered if it had anything to do with Ron, who hadn't looked anywhere but the chessboard since Harry arrived, despite the fact that he was obviously winning and had never had to pay much attention to the chessboard in games against Hermione anyway.

"Look," Harry said, ignoring her sniping tone, "this is important. I've just--" he lowered his voice to a whisper, glancing around the common room to make sure no one else was listening, "I've just seen Ginny on the stair, talking to Malfoy."

Hermione's eyes flew to meet his, but Ron merely shrugged. "Talking as in fighting and slandering each other's families and nearly resorting to fisticuffs, you mean?"

"No," Harry said, "it was a conversation. The kind without insults and flying hexes." Harry then proceeded to tell them everything he'd heard. Hermione gazed at him in mute sympathy, while Ron's face got redder and redder until he finally stood and bent over Harry's chair threateningly.

"Look, I don't care what you think you heard. You think I can't tell what you're on about, the both of you? Oh, I know you think I'm not as clever as you, that I can't put things together like you can. But if you're trying to insinuate that my sister is... is in league with Malfoy of all people... then I, well I don't know what I'll do because I'm too upset right now to think of something, but it'll be bad!" He glared at Harry and Hermione in mute defiance, daring them to argue.

"Ron, please calm down!" Hermione said. "I don't think Ginny is in with Malfoy, but she has been acting strange lately, you've got to admit. Harry, you said you saw them. Were they standing close together, anything that would indicate...?"

Harry shook his head as Ron dropped back into his own chair, his face a blank mask. "No, and they looked really uncomfortable too. What I want to know is, how can she possibly think I'm anything like Riddle? It's completely ridiculous!"

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "Honestly, Harry. Stick to the matter at hand. I hardly think it's important what Ginny told Malfoy. She was probably lying, anyway. It's more the fact that they were talking at all."

"I don't think so," Harry said, anger in his voice. "She seemed sincere. And you two never saw him. Riddle, I mean. I look like him," he admitted bitterly. "I do."

Hermione stood up. "Well, I'll try to catch Ginny tonight in her dormitory. Maybe a bit of girl talk will loosen her lips and we can find out what she's up to. Anyway, I've been meaning to ask her what exactly happened in the forest on Halloween, but she never seems to be around anymore."

"You can do that? That girl talk thing? Will there be gossiping about boys and painting each other's toenails, then?" Ron asked snidely.

Hermione glared at him. "When will you learn, Ron Weasley, that I AM A GIRL?" With that, Hermione stormed off to her dormitory, stomping her feet and leaving several first and second years staring after her as if she was mad. Ron left soon after, muttering something about needing his sleep for Hogsmeade the next day, but Harry remained in the common room, resolving to wait until Ginny returned. Pulling out his potions notes and his copy of One Thousand Magical Plants and Fungi, Harry tried to concentrate on his essay, but his mind kept replaying the conversation he'd witnessed. The common room emptied slowly. It was a Friday night so none of the Gryffindors were in much of a rush to go to bed, and the Hogsmeade visit the next day meant his housemates were more exuberant than usual. Hours passed and still Ginny did not return to Gryffindor tower. As his anger mounted, so too did his feelings of guilt and worry. What if something had happened to Ginny, what if Malfoy had done something to her, and he had just left her there with that pointy-faced git? Harry had walked away because he'd heard something he didn't like, not even considering the safety of his friend...

Just as the last straggler mounted the steps toward the dormitory, the portrait hole swung forward and Ginny stepped through, quietly shutting the portrait behind her. She was holding her robes, rather than wearing them; instead she wore Muggle clothes--plain jeans and a white t-shirt. She had a decidedly mussed appearance; her hair straggled from its tie at the back of her head and her clothes were rumpled and dirty. She seemed tired, too, her shoulders slumped and weary. When she turned back to face the common room, her eyes lit on Harry and she started.

"Harry! What are you still doing up? It's late. You should be in bed," she scolded.

Harry stood up slowly, his eyes never leaving Ginny's face. He didn't know what he hoped to find there, but the guilty, closed expression he saw in her eyes wasn't it. "And so should you. Curfew was hours ago," he said, his voice deceptively casual. "What was so important, that you'd risk getting detention and losing points from Gryffindor?"

She laughed nervously, taking a few steps toward the spiraling stair that led to her dormitory. "You sound like Hermione. Next you'll be making me color-coded study charts and telling me it's only six months until O.W.L.s."

She reached the stair and was about to start up it when Harry spoke. "I know what's going on, Ginny." She froze and turned to face him, a strange mixture of incredulity and relief in her eyes. Harry didn't know anything, not really, but he couldn't let her just go off again and avoid talking to him as she'd done for the past two weeks. His anger, too, was rising, bubbling just beneath the surface. Why was she being like this, so secretive and closed off from him, when he'd always been able to read her expressions so easily? Why was she hiding things from him, avoiding him so suddenly? Suddenly he realized--this could have nothing to do with Tom Riddle or the similarity in their looks. He'd been confused by her conversation with Malfoy, so taken off guard by the strangeness of it that he'd been blinded to the obvious. He may have looked like Riddle once, but they were only the superficial similarities of dark hair and pale skin. And the deeper similarities--his ability to speak Parseltongue, their wands, the Sorting Hat wanting to put him in Slytherin--in his mind those were things that connected him to Riddle, but Ginny didn't know about them. Couldn't know, as she'd been unconscious in the Chamber of Secrets. So why then had she told Malfoy that, and what was she hiding from them?

"What do you mean, you know?" she asked, taking long strides now to stand directly in front of him. "Harry, this is serious! You can't go telling anyone, not Ron, not Hermione..." Her face was flushed with anger, but in her eyes he saw something else... fear, and something deeper, something like loathing.

Harry's eyes narrowed into slices of burning green as he glared at her. When he spoke, his voice was low and dangerous. "Ginny, they already know. Ron doesn't believe it of course. Can't, can he, you being his sister and all. Who would believe that sweet, innocent little Ginny Weasley would be in league with them?"

"Them? Harry, I don't... I don't understand!" Her own eyes narrowed and she shook her head in confusion.

"I saw you with him!" Harry said. "I... I heard what you said, about me and Riddle. That you can't stand to be around me. Well I'm not like him, Ginny, I'm not!" Harry yelled. "And I don't see how you possibly believe that, either! Why did you say those, those things? What were you doing with Malfoy? What happened in the forest on Halloween, for that matter, and why have you been avoiding me ever since?" As he spoke Harry's anger quickly dissipated, shifting and tearing inside him until all he could feel was the pain of her words slicing through him, the keenness of betrayal that she'd told Malfoy and not him, and worst of all the terrible, wrenching fear that she might be right.

Her face paled suddenly and she took a step away from him. She was trying to gather herself, Harry saw, but her eyes betrayed her still. She'd winced at his shouted accusations, but the amber depths of her eyes remained cold and calculating. "Harry, I know you feel betrayed."

"Yes, well, that's one of the unpleasant side effects of betrayal," Harry said, his voice bitter.

She flinched at his words and looked away from him. "I suppose I deserve that," she said, her voice low. Her eyes blazed at him with sudden anger. "I'm sorry you had to hear those things, Harry. Those words were never meant for your ears. But you've got to understand, there are some things I can't tell you. Some things I won't tell you."

"But you'll tell Malfoy? He doesn't even know you." He glared at her.

She glared right back. "You don't know me, Harry! And you've never tried to be my friend before now. One guess as to why that is! You three are desperate to know what happened in the forest. You don't care about me and you never have. Even Ron... you know, before he came to Hogwarts and met you, we were best friends. We did everything together, shared everything. But now I'm lucky if I can get him to say two words to me." She stopped suddenly, breathing hard. Harry's mind raced with a blurring whorl of thoughts. He'd never seen Ginny this angry and this hurt, and he didn't know what to do, especially when his own anger still coursed through him. "I thought that things would be different this year. It seemed as if... but the second we got to school, everything went back to how it always was. So yeah, Harry, I do talk to Malfoy. Because he at least doesn't pretend friendship and caring. He at least is honest in his derision. He calls me a stupid little girl to my face rather than just treating me like one!"

"I don't think you're stupid, but you're certainly aiming to change my mind!" Harry yelled. "It's Malfoy, Ginny! He's not your friend, and he never will be. He's just like his father. Or have you forgotten what his father did to you!?"

Ginny backed away from him, wrapping her arms around her body tightly in an unconscious effort to protect herself from his words. Her voice cracked when she spoke, but her eyes blazed with loathing and rage. "How could I forget, Harry? When Riddle is out there right now, biding his time, waiting to get his hands on me. Again." She turned her back on him and started up the stair to her dormitory. "Just leave me alone from now on. I don't want to see you."

Harry knew he should stop her, call her back and work things out, but he didn't. He was sick of having to fight for everything, of having to convince people he was genuine! If Ginny wanted to think he was like Riddle, if she'd rather sneak around with Malfoy and put herself in danger, that was her lookout. He couldn't protect his friends if they didn't want protecting. "Fine," he muttered to himself, "that's just the way I want it. She wants to run about with Malfoy, fine. We don't need her anyway."

Harry lay in bed that night, eyes wide open, replaying the argument in his head over and over. Sleep refused to come. Instead, Ginny's words echoed in his mind, and no matter how hard he tried to think of other things, or to clear his mind for his Occlumency practice, her words wouldn't leave him. If he could maintain his anger, that would be one thing. But instead the familiar feelings of guilt and worry had begun to set in, driving away the cleanness of rage. Anger was so easy to deal with, so unadulterated in its single minded pursuit to burn and destroy. Guilt hungered. It survived to feed on worry and doubt and torturous thoughts of what could have been. It howled.

The problem was, Harry knew Ginny was right. He and Ginny hadn't been comfortable around each other since they'd met, and Ron often pretended he didn't have a younger sister when it came to doing anything remotely dangerous or important. And Hermione... he'd thought the two of them were friends, but what kind of friend could she really be to Ginny when her first loyalties were always to him and Ron? They had closed themselves off from her, decided long ago that her fate would be--had to be--separate from theirs. He thought it had been out of a desire to protect her. Ginny was younger than them, and unconnected to Harry in a way that would make her much less of a target for Voldemort and his followers.

Perhaps... perhaps they had underestimated her, and in doing so ensured her betrayal. They had sent her running straight to the other side. Straight to Malfoy, who was certainly cunning enough to convince her with his "I'm so misunderstood" act. And it was an act, of that Harry was sure. Ginny didn't know, hadn't been around for Malfoy's worst acts toward them. Shutting her out had been a mistake, he saw that now. Rather than protecting her, it had given Voldemort access to someone he knew was a weakness. Ginny had given into Voldemort once before, had been possessed by him. Could it be happening again?

Harry's thoughts raced furiously. What had Riddle told him down in the Chamber? I grew powerful. Powerful enough to start feeding Miss Weasley a few of my secrets, to start pouring a little of my soul back into her... Harry covered his face with his hands, wishing he could stop thinking. A theory was beginning to take shape in his mind. He resisted it with all his will, but it simply couldn't be ignored. Everything added up--the strange warning dreams, the events of Halloween, the conversation they'd overheard between Buffy and Willow, and most of all the coldness he had seen in Ginny's eyes that night... he had read these things wrong before. He hoped he was wrong this time. More than ever, he needed to talk to Hermione.

When he awoke the next morning Harry was surprised to discover Ron had already left the tower. He wandered down to the common room and found Hermione waiting for him, holding out a few pieces of toast. "Ron's left already, with Dean and Seamus," she said, unable to meet his eyes. "I thought we could go to Hogsmeade together. I wouldn't bother, but Christmas is coming up and I still need to buy gifts for everyone."

Harry nodded his agreement and took the toast from her gratefully. The moment they left the castle grounds, Harry slowed down and caught his friend's eye. "We need to talk," he said quietly. "I spoke to Ginny last night."

A surprised look flitted across Hermione's face. "So did I," she admitted. "Did you... argue? Because all she would say was that she wanted nothing to do with us, and to leave her alone."

"We argued," he said, his eyes firmly on the light dusting of snow on the road. "I'm almost glad Ron decided to go on ahead. I needed to speak to you alone. After the way he reacted last night... he wouldn't like what I've got to say."

"Well go on then," Hermione encouraged.

"I told her I'd heard what she'd said to Malfoy, and she, well, let's just say shouting was a big theme. I guess we were both pretty angry. But the important part was, she said that she is talking to Malfoy, telling him things. Because she can't tell us. Apparently, we treat her like a child and we've never been her friends, so she's betraying us altogether," he said, shoving his clenched fists deep into the pockets of his cloak.

Hermione shook her head in disbelief. "She actually said that? That she was betraying us?"

Harry rolled his eyes at her. "Of course she didn't say that. But she more or less admitted it."

"Well which was it? More, or less? Harry, these are serious accusations. We can't just run around telling people Ginny's some kind of traitor without evidence."

Harry sighed. "I know that. That's why I'm only telling you. You had to have been there, to have seen the look in her eyes. It was so..."

"Cold," Hermione said. "Like ice. And hard, determined. I saw her last night, remember? I waited up for her, outside the door to her room, and she was so upset. I tried to comfort her, you know? But she pushed me away and told me to leave off, only not in those words, mind you, and her eyes... Harry, she looked like she hated me!"

Harry bit his lip. "That's just the thing, it's not like Ginny to act like that, is it? She's got a temper all right, but she's never been mean before. Something's going on with her, and I'd bet my Firebolt it's got to do with Malfoy and what happened on Halloween. She's been... different since then. Surely you've noticed."

Hermione's eyes flew to his, filled with fear and horror. "Oh Harry, you don't think..." Her voice dropped to a whisper and they stopped walking altogether. They had just reached the edge of Hogsmeade, and other students filed past them, eager to spend a day in the village. "Imperius?"

Harry swallowed hard and nodded. "Something like that." He looked around, noting the groups of students and teachers surrounding them. "We'll talk later. There's more I need to tell you. And Hermione, I don't think Ron should know."

"What shouldn't I know?" Ron asked from behind them. Harry spun around to stare guiltily at his friend. Ron grinned at them.

Harry started. "Er, the surprise I'm planning for Christmas," was all he could think of.

"Well come on then," Ron said, his bad mood of the night before apparently forgotten. "The village is all decked out for Christmas. Honeydukes has some excellent new flavors of sugarquills in, and Zonko's has just started carrying Weasley Wizard Wheezes products!"

Harry and Hermione followed Ron through the village. Harry tried to put his fight with Ginny behind him and just enjoy this day with his friends. The village looked like a wonderland. The shops were decorated with everything from enchanted icicles that never melted to fairy lights to ten-foot tall Christmas trees. Harry bought gifts for his friends and had a fine time hiding them from Ron, who was forever trying to take a peek inside his bags. At Zonko's Harry bought several Weasley products, including a set of Extendable Ears and a Skiving Snackbox, just in case he ever felt the need to leave Potions class a bit early. Upon reflection, he thought as he paid for his purchases, he felt that need almost every lesson. But maybe he could sneak a bit of nosebleed nougat into Draco Malfoy's evening pumpkin juice...

The day ended with the three of them stopping by the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer. Half the school was there, including most of the professors. Professor McGonagall sat in the corner with Flitwick and Snape, her cheeks rosy. Harry wondered briefly if his Head of House had had a bit too much too drink when she began giggling uncontrollably at something Snape had said. Madam Rosmerta was busy filling orders and chatting with her customers, so Harry, Hermione, and Ron found a small table near the back of the room and squeezed around it to wait for the crowd at the bar to thin. The pub itself was decorated in full force with several trees scattered about, boughs of holly gracing the stair to the upper level, and all manner of owl sporting bells and wreaths perched among the rafters of the high ceiling. Harry saw Hagrid sitting at a table with Buffy and Willow and waved at him.

Hagrid raised his tankard to Harry and took a large swallow of his drink before standing up to say hello. To Harry's surprise, Buffy and Willow followed him over, and he spent an uncomfortable moment staring at them, wondering if they were in on the plot to turn Ginny against her friends and family. "Hello there, Harry!" Hagrid boomed, patting Harry on the back none too gently. Harry winced but gave the man a welcoming smile. "Hermione, Ron," Hagrid acknowledged. "Haven't seen you three much this term outside o' lessons. Been a bit busy, have yeh?"

"Sorry about that," Harry said. "Quidditch, and er, you know."

"I've bin hearin' things," Hagrid said with a wink. "More'n Quidditch goin' on up at the school. Still, yeh always make it to my class. Can't complain now, can I?"

"I'm so sorry, Hagrid," Hermione said. "We could have tea. Tomorrow?"

"Now there, Hermione. Don't go beatin' yerself up about it. Tea it is!"

Buffy and Willow watched the exchange with smiles. After a few minutes of chatting, Hagrid, who was more willing to brave the crowds, left to get the three of them drinks. Buffy and Willow looked at each other, then pulled up chairs to their already cramped table. Ron was sitting next to Buffy now, and Harry noticed his friend's ears were bright red. Harry repressed a smile. If he wasn't much mistaken, Ron had a crush on their professor.

Buffy leaned in conspiratorially. "We had to talk to you guys in private, where no one could overhear us," she said in a low whisper. Harry had to lean across the table to hear her. "Professor Dumbledore thinks you're in some kind of danger. Nothing we can't handle. That's why he wants you guys to spend Christmas with us."

Hermione shook her head. "No, I've got to go home to my parents. They want me home this Christmas."

Harry knew Hermione wanted to be there to protect them if she needed to. "What kind of danger?" he asked. "Why can't we just stay at Hogwarts? It's the safest place in Britain."

"Duh. Because every beastie from here to Bangladesh will know you're at Hogwarts. It's not exactly a big secret where you are most of the time," Buffy replied.

"Bangladesh?" Willow asked, giving Buffy a doubtful look.

"Well, you know, it's far away. It's still far away, right? Geography was never my cup of tea. In fact, I don't even like tea. I prefer coffee, or if I'm feeling really risky, a diet soda."

"Why do I have to go, then?" Ron interrupted. "Mum and Dad wanted to have a family Christmas, for once. Bill and Charlie are supposed to be coming and everything!"

"That's a cover up," Willow whispered. "Your brothers never really planned to come home. Your parents have been planning to send you and Ginny away all along."

"But why?" Hermione asked. "Harry's always in danger. It's not as if this is exactly new. Why does it matter where he goes? Won't it just follow him?"

"If he was the one in danger, then that might matter," Buffy said dryly. "We can't explain right now. You'll just have to trust us. And anyway, it's pointless to argue. No points for Hermione," Buffy quipped, smiling at her own joke.

"A-and it'll be fun!" Willow tried to be cheerful. "We can do stuff. You know, non-school stuff. Watch movies, play board games. Oh! We can watch "A Charlie Brown Christmas"! I can teach you all the Snoopy dance!"

Harry smiled a little at that. It didn't much matter to him where he spent Christmas. Hermione shook her head again. "I told you, I've got to go home this year. I'll speak to Dumbledore about it. Maybe something can be arranged? Wards, or a protection spell?"

Buffy stood and patted Hermione on the shoulder. "You want to see your family. I get that. I really do. Just keep in mind that it might not be safe for them to be around you."

Willow stood to go as well, but Hermione stopped them with a pleading look. "They're Muggles," she said. "If I don't protect them, who will?"

Willow smiled sympathetically. "We'll figure it out. Meet me after class on Thursday. Maybe we can work out some wards for the house, some kind of protection spell."

Hagrid came back with their drinks just then, and the Defense professors left. Harry noticed that they stopped by another table on their way out to talk to another student--Ginny. To his relief, Ginny was sitting with Colin and Luna. What did he expect, that she'd be sitting with Malfoy, flaunting their newfound relationship, whatever it was? Of course not. She'd have to keep it quiet, and so would he, else their Houses would think them traitors. Which they were, Harry reminded himself bitterly.

************

"What do you reckon Buffy was all about?" Ron asked later, on their walk back to the castle.

Hermione and Harry exchanged a glance. Harry knew Hermione was thinking the same thing--did this have anything to do with Ginny? Could it be possible that Dumbledore knew something wasn't right with her, or were the Defense professors leading the headmaster astray somehow?

Hermione shrugged after a long moment of silence. "Can't be sure, but there's absolutely no way I'm leaving Mum and Dad alone this Christmas. If something's going to happen, I need to be there to protect them."

"Maybe Dumbledore can get a couple of Aurors to protect them. Or members of the Order," Ron suggested. "We could all go to Grimmauld Place, like last year. It's unplottable and hidden by the Fidelius Charm."

Harry stared at the snow-covered path and tried not to think of last year. Sirius had been so happy then, singing and going out of his way to make it a good time. But Harry had spent most of the holiday thinking he'd been possessed by Voldemort. And all Sirius's efforts had been wasted, because he'd been too selfish to consider others...

"I doubt it," Hermione said, interrupting his thoughts. "The Aurors are out of their minds with work as it is, and the Order... well who knows what they get up to, but it's more important than protecting a couple of Muggles." Hermione's voice was grim and determined. "I have to do it."

"Still, I wouldn't mind seeing some, what do you call them, voo-mies?" Ron said. "What is a voo-mie, anyway?"

"Honestly, Ron. You should've taken Muggle Studies. You're hopeless!" Hermione said with a small smile.

Harry laughed. "It's a movie, only that's an American term, actually. It's a film. They have cameras that take moving pictures, and they can speak and things, and they act out a story," he explained.

"Mad. Muggles are absolutely mad. And what's a board game?"

Harry explained monopoly and scrabble to Ron while they ate dinner in the Great Hall. Ron shook his head and muttered an occasional comment, sounding more like his father than he perhaps would have liked. After dinner Harry and Hermione headed to the second floor girl's bathroom, which they were once again using to brew their secret potions. Their projects weren't precisely illegal this time, but Harry doubted Snape would appreciate his two least favorite students hanging about in his lab. He'd be suspicious as well. Neither Harry nor Hermione had ever done special projects, and besides, Harry thought to himself as he set up his cauldron in an empty stall, Snape was suspicious of anything Harry did. He didn't need an excuse to take points from Gryffindor. Harry's existence seemed to be reason enough.

Harry and Hermione worked in silence. Harry found he'd come to enjoy these times. Making potions--without Snape glaring at him from across the room, that was--could be quite relaxing and allowed him to clear his mind. Harry wondered if this was what had attracted Snape to potion making.

"Hand me the boomslang skin," Hermione said, stirring her potion carefully. Harry watched as Hermione carefully shredded it and added it to her potion. She stirred it counter clockwise three times with precise, careful movements, then prodded the fire beneath her cauldron with her wand, causing the flames to die out. "There," she said, taking a step back from it. "That's it then. I hope it works. I don't fancy trying to get more of that acromantula hair."

"It'll work" Harry said, concentrating on his own mixture now, the Accelero Potion. When taken properly, it should give the drinker added speed and agility. Its use was strictly regulated among the Quidditch world--all the professional teams tested their players for it, because it unfairly enhanced a player's skills. He finished stirring and took a step back from his cauldron. "There, that's all I can do tonight. Anyway, Hermione," he said as they began packing up their things, "your potions always work. It's mine you should be worried about."

"Still, we'll need to test it. Maybe at the meeting next week?" she suggested.

"That's fine. We won't be doing much anyway, as it's our last meeting before the holiday. And we've got that Potions test the next day as well." Harry grimaced at the thought. He needed to work on his memory potion if he wanted to pass Snape's class this term.

"Speaking of which, I need to add the mugwort to my Subconscious Serum. Want to come along to the dungeons?"

Harry shrugged. They headed toward the dungeons in silence. It was not quite curfew yet, but neither of them doubted that, should Filch or Snape himself catch them out this close to it, they'd get in some sort of trouble. Just as they reached the last step heading down to the lab, Hermione grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him against the wall. Her eyes were wide as she stared into the dim corridor in front of them.

"...can't keep happening," he heard a voice saying from inside one of the unused classrooms. "The strain alone is enough to make you a candidate in the Miss Lunatic Pageant!"

"Buffy," Hermione whispered to him. "Who else talks like that?"

"Why would the Council call on them?" another voice asked. Harry strained his ears to hear more. "There's nothing for it..." he made out. "...keep on coming, but I'll just keep on killing them!" Harry heard Hermione gasp in shock. Harry felt a tremor go through him--who were they planning on killing?

"Did you hear that?" Buffy asked.

Just then Willow's head popped out from the doorway of the classroom. Her eyes swept the area, lighting on the two of them. Harry didn't think she could really see them. "Who's there?" she asked. "Go back to your common room, whoever you are. Curfew's in ten minutes."

Harry pulled Hermione up the stair and out of sight. They practically ran through the corridors to the seventh floor, where Harry gasped the password at the Fat Lady's portrait. They scrambled through the entrance and shut the door, then simply stood and stared at each other, neither knowing what to say. Finally, Hermione broke the shocked silence between them.

"Well, we knew they were pretty dodgy. Still, it could be some sort of Slayer thing. She mentioned the Council again, the Council sending someone."

"Or something," Harry said with a shudder. "You've heard her stories, you know the kinds of things Buffy fights. What if the Council's trying to kill her or something, for going against them?"

Hermione shook her head. "They wouldn't. They're the good guys, remember? Ugh. I've got to work on my Potions essay. I don't have time for this!"

Harry tried to follow Hermione's lead and work on his essay, but his mind refused to focus on the properties of rosemary and cloves. Instead the events of that weekend swirled in his head. He stared into the fire as he remembered everything that had happened. He was confused and worried and so, so tired...

He was in the club again, on the second level this time, staring down from a balcony at the dancers below. Sirius stood next to him, leaning against the banister with his back to the dancers. "Back again, then?" he said with a smile.

Harry nodded absently. "Can't seem to stay away," he explained. He gave the other boy a glare. "No offense to you, but these dreams aren't exactly my idea of fun. I wish you'd tell me what this is all about and stop being so bloody cryptic all the time."

Sirius flashed a brilliant smile at him. "Where's the fun in that?" he asked. "Then you'd know everything and we'd have to stop having these little chats of ours. Besides," he said, lifting his glass in a salute to Harry, "I quite enjoy the drinks. They're free, you know."

"Can't you be serious, for once?" Harry said, turning away from him to look down at the dancers.

"I'm always Sirius," Sirius said, grinning at his own bad joke.

Harry wrinkled his nose. "That's awful You were never this annoying in life, you know. So what's the message this time? Let me guess--'You have to know what to see'?"

"Something quite different, actually. A great man once said, 'And since you know you cannot see yourself, so well as by reflection, I, your glass, will modestly discover to yourself, that of yourself which you yet know not of.'"

"Sounds like a great prat to me," Harry said.

"Shakespeare, actually. But all the same... I'm here to show you what you refuse to see." He motioned to the dancers below, and the world blurred around the edges, until the only person Harry could see clearly was Ginny, standing alone among the dancers. She was staring at someone across the room, someone Harry couldn't quite make out, but she didn't move, although her face reflected a desire and need so painfully obvious that Harry winced to see it.

"And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, the instruments of darkness tell us truths, win us with honest trifles, to betray's in deepest consequence." Harry heard Sirius's voice as if from afar. Watching Ginny in pain was like watching a train wreck--terrible and brutal, and yet he couldn't look away. She turned in slow circles on the dance floor, arms wrapped around herself as the music flowed over and around her in a blue haze. It was strange, Harry thought, that he could see the music, but then these dreams always were.

Ginny stopped spinning as the music reached a higher pitch, raising her face to look up at him now, as if she'd known all along he'd been watching her. Her eyes seemed to be speaking the lyrics directly to him; Harry heard them in his mind, felt them wrap around him now in blue and violet tendrils, even when she looked away.

Under blue moon I saw yo., So soon you'll take me up in your arms too late to beg you or cancel it though I know it must be the killing time --unwillingly mine. Fate, up against your will through the thick and thin, he will wait until you give yourself to him...

Harry felt Sirius take his hand in an icy grasp and suddenly they were on the dance floor with Ginny. Sirius dropped Harry's hand and moved to stand behind her. His dark eyes blazed at Harry from over Ginny's head. Harry knew Sirius was trying to tell him something, but couldn't quite figure out what...

In starlit nights I saw you. So cruelly you kissed me. Your lips a magic world, your sky all hung with jewels--the killing moon will come too soon.

"You have to know what to see," Sirius said. As he had once before, he began to transform. His hair lengthened and lightened from pitch black to silvery blonde, his facial bones shifted and sharpened, becoming the pointed face of Draco Malfoy. Cold silver eyes stared at him from behind Ginny. Ginny gazed at him unseeingly, her dark eyes blank and unfocused. Malfoy wrapped his arm around Ginny, pulling her against him. His other hand, pale and spider-like, snaked into her hair and wrapped the red strands tight around it.

"What do you see?" Malfoy asked. His face changed again, becoming ridged and hard, brilliant white teeth lengthening into sharp fangs. With a sudden snarl he sank his teeth into Ginny, who stood still without struggle, although her eyes reflected her horror and pain as the life drained out of her. And his eyes... Harry found himself drowning in those pools of molten silver, now slightly tinged with the red of Ginny's blood. He wanted to scream, to leap forward and stop him, but he was frozen in place. All he could do was watch.

Harry jerked awake suddenly to find himself slumped over on his Potions essay. He sat up quickly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Bad dream?" Hermione asked from across the table, her dark eyes reflecting her concern.

"Yeah," Harry replied. His brain felt heavy and water-laden. The dream had been important, he knew. Another message from Sirius, but somehow he couldn't recall the details, only blurred images and vague ideas. Sirius had been there, of course, saying things that made very little sense to him, no doubt. And Ginny... she had been there, and a vampire?

"Voldemort?" Hermione asked bluntly, her quill still scratching at her parchment.

"What? No. No, I've been having these weird dreams about Sirius."

Hermione paused in her writing. She didn't look at him, but lay her quill down. "What are they about? The... the place... the Department of Mysteries?"

"No." Harry shook his head. "You'll laugh if I tell you."

"Go on then," she said with a smile. "I could use a good laugh."

"All right. Well, I can't remember much. But I'm in this club, and there's music. Sirius is there, only he's young, right? And he says a load of cryptic things I can never really remember afterward, and sips fizzy drinks."

Hermione laughed. "Well, it's not as dire as I had supposed then. Fizzy drinks?"

Harry shrugged. "He's says they're free."

"Well, speaking of dreams you can't remember, maybe you should get to work on your Potions essay. We're testing our Subconscious Serums next week, you know. Snape will be furious if yours isn't absolutely perfect," she said, turning back to her own essay.

Harry set himself to his essay, trying to drown out the sounds of his fellow Gryffindors playing a raucous game of Wizard Charades. Parvati was attempting an impersonation of Professor Dumbledore, but giggling too much to really get her point across. Harry turned resolutely to his essay.

Clove is especially helpful in recalling prophetic dreams and has even been known to induce visions when properly mixed with mugwort and rosemary...

After several minutes of reading his notes, cross-referencing his library books with his Potions texts, and painstakingly copying down bits of information that he thought might make his essay better, Harry lay down his quill and sat back in his chair with a tired sigh. Just as he was about to tell Hermione he was going up to bed for the night, the portrait hole opened, catching his eye. Ginny snuck through, almost entirely unnoticed by the occupants of the common room because of the loud games going on, but Harry and Hermione both saw her. It was long after curfew, Harry noted, and once again she looked dirty and worn out. Her robes were disheveled as if she'd pulled them on rather haphazardly, and beneath them Harry could see she wore jeans. He watched her creep past the group of Gryffindors in the common room. Just as she started up the stair to her dormitory, her robes caught on the bannister, revealing more of her jeans, which seem to be covered in patches of...slime?

"What's she been up to?" Hermione asked, her nose wrinkled. "Looks as if she's been crawling about the sewers or something."

Harry's mouth pressed into a thin line. "That, or sneaking into Hogsmeade through the Honeydukes passage."

Hermione's eyes widened in sudden understanding. "She wasn't sneaking out, Harry. She was sneaking back in. My guess is she never left Hogsmeade with the rest of us."

"But what does that mean?" he asked.

"I don't know," she murmured, staring at the stairway Ginny had disappeared into, her forehead marred with worry lines. "I just don't know."

The next week went by in a haze, and before he knew it, Harry found himself in the Potions dungeon on Thursday, waiting nervously for the lesson to begin. His Subconscious Serum bubbled in front of him in his cauldron, complete now that he'd added the final infusion of mugwort. He glanced at Hermione's potion, trying to gauge whether his looked enough like hers to be good enough for an inspection by Snape. Both potions were clear as water, but thick and gelatinous, with a faint haze misting over them. Harry couldn't see a difference between them, but then Snape always found something wrong with his potions, regardless of how perfect they seemed to Harry.

The class was unusually quiet as they waited for Snape to arrive. Draco Malfoy, seated at the desk to the left of Harry one row ahead of him, looked confident and arrogant as ever. His potion looked exactly like Hermione's as well, but then Snape had always favored him. Harry gave the other boy's back a healthy glare. Malfoy undoubtedly knew that regardless of his potion's effectiveness he'd receive a passing grade. Ever since he'd seen Ginny with Malfoy, Harry had found that he'd felt supremely uncomfortable in his presence, rather than the loathing and anger he was used to feeling toward the other boy. In the back of his mind, Harry wondered what things Ginny had told Malfoy about him. Did Malfoy now know that Harry had slept in a cupboard for eleven years of his life? Did he know about the Dursleys, and Sirius, and everything else? For some reason, Harry didn't want Malfoy knowing those kinds of things about him. They were too personal, too private for someone like Malfoy to know.

Just then Snape stalked into the room with a dramatic swirl of black cloak, slamming the door behind him with a loud bang. Harry jumped a little--he couldn't help it. The preparation for this potion had kept him on edge for the past two weeks, knowing that it would determine whether or not he stayed in the class. Ron gave him an encouraging smile--Harry could tell his friend was equally nervous about his own potion.

"Settle down," Snape said, although there was hardly a need. With only ten students left in the class, and all of them nervously regarding their potions, the dungeon was so quiet that Harry could hear the steady dripping of the leaky ceiling. "Has everyone prepared their Subconscious Serums for today?" His lip curled as he glared around at them. No one made a sound, which was just the way Snape seemed to like it.

Snape set them up in pairs to test their potions, and skulked about the dungeon observing and making his usual caustic comments. Harry, who was paired with Dean, watched nervously as the other boy ladled a sample of his potion into a vial for Harry to try. Just as Harry was about to swallow down the strange looking stuff, Snape appeared at his side.

"I don't think so, Potter," he said, taking the vial from Harry.

Harry looked at the Potions master in surprise. Was this some new form of ridicule, not letting him test a potentially dangerous potion? If so, it was fairly abstract as punishments went...

Snape saw his questioning look. "Thomas," he said, "your potions work has been dreadful this term. I'd fear for Potter's life letting him drink this swill; that is, if I cared enough about it. As it is, I don't think the Headmaster would appreciate having his pet student killed in my class. Granger," he called out to Hermione, "come here, if you please."

"Yes professor?" Hermione asked, leaving Ron, who was babbling about spiders the size of trucks, a Quick-Notes Quill scribbling furiously on the desk beside him to take it all down.

"I need you to test Thomas's potion," Snape said, handing the vial to her, apparently unconcerned for Hermione's safety. She swallowed the contents and immediately began spouting off about her latest dream, something about Crookshanks turning into Professor McGonagall and joining the Ice Capades.

Snape sneered. "I suppose your work may have improved somewhat, Thomas. Now, Potter. I am eager to see whether you'll be leaving us next term," he said with an eager glint in his eye.

Harry handed Dean a sample of his own potion and waited nervously to see if it would work. Harry heard Dean's latest dreams with a sigh of relief, thinking that Snape couldn't possibly chuck him out after his Subconscious Serum had worked so well!

"Very well, Potter," Snape said, clearly disappointed. He gave Harry a shrewd look. "You've succeeded at something in my class, finally. Perhaps our cozy little tutoring session can end at last? I will see you on Monday. We can discuss your future in this class then."

"Yes, Professor," Harry said. He watched Snape walk away, amazed. Had his most hated professor actually paid him a compliment? As Harry bottled up his potion for Snape to grade and began cleaning out his cauldron, he played the encounter over in his head. He was glad that he probably wouldn't be kicked out of class, and Snape even seemed to be saying that their Occlumency lessons could end as well. The real question was, why had Snape prevented him from testing Dean's potion? What was he afraid of?

Against his better judgment, Harry decided to stay after class and ask Snape about the incident. Harry waited until the dungeon had mostly cleared out before approaching him. "Er, Professor?" Harry said, interrupting Snape, who was methodically labeling the class's samples of potion.

"What is it, Potter?" Snape asked irritably. "Don't we spend enough time together as it is?"

Harry flushed with anger, but tamped it down quickly. Snape was trying to get to him--he always did. "Quite right, sir," Harry said. "Erm, I was just wondering, why did you prevent me from taking the Subconscious Serum?"

"I told you," Snape said, concentrating hard on his labeling, "I'd rather you not be poisoned."

"Sir? We both know that wasn't it," Harry said bluntly.

Snape lay down the vial he was labeling and glared up at Harry. "If you had a brain to think with, boy, you'd know the answer without having to ask. I've seen some of the things you dream about, you idiot. I can't have you spouting off about your visions of the Dark Lord in the middle of class!"

Harry felt like a fool. "Oh, right," he mumbled, turning to go. He left the dungeon in a daze, and was surprised when he collided with somebody running in the opposite direction.

"Umph," Ginny said from the ground. She glared at Harry as she stood up, straightening her robes. "Honestly Harry, do you ever watch where you're going?"

Harry narrowed his eyes at her. "What are you doing down here? You don't have Potions now."

Ginny made a face at him. "Stalking, much? I'm working on a special project for Snape, and anyway it's none of your business where I go." She stalked past him toward the dungeon he'd just left.

Harry shook his head and started walking, but Ginny's voice stopped him short. "I wouldn't go that way, Harry. Someone's let off a load of garroting gas just down that corridor." Harry shrugged and kept walking. "Fine with me if you want to be turned inside out!" she called after him.

Harry frowned and walked away, ignoring her. She had just come from this direction--she had to be lying. The corridor looked completely empty to him, and aside from the rather larger than usual amount of slime dripping down the walls, he couldn't see anything wrong with it.

As he made his way toward the Defense classroom for his next lesson, he gave up trying to figure Ginny out. She had been normal and so cheerful during the first two months of school, and then suddenly, directly after Halloween, she'd changed, becoming secretive and sneaky, lying at every turn and hurting Hermione by telling her to leave her alone, hurting him...

Harry entered the Defense classroom to find most of the class already assembled, chatting excitedly about the upcoming holiday. Harry sat down next to Ron and Hermione, asking, "What's going on? It is Thursday, isn't it? Where's Willow?"

"She couldn't make it," Ron said, doodling happily on a corner of his class notes. "So Buffy's taking over today. Honestly, I'm glad of it. I quite prefer her lessons to failing miserably at wandless magic."

"What are these desks doing here, then?" Harry asked. "Shouldn't we be moving them out of the way?"

Hermione shook her head. "Buffy said not to. She said we're doing something special today. Oh, look. I think we're starting."

Buffy emerged from her office and began pacing in front of them, biting her lip nervously as if she couldn't quite figure out how to begin.

"Okay, you guys have to promise me you're not going to freak. Parvati, that means you," she said, giving the girl a hard look. Parvati had been notoriously squeamish during Buffy's lessons, shrieking at every little thing. The girl blushed furiously and stared at the floor. "But seriously, this isn't a big deal. One of my... friends is here, and I thought he'd make a good lesson."

Harry and Ron exchanged confused glances. Why would one of Buffy's friends constitute a lesson?

"He's a vampire," she said bluntly at their confused expressions.

"Er, Buffy?" Hermione asked, hand in the air, "Why are you friends with a vampire? I thought you were supposed to, you know, kill them?"

"Yeah, that's my gig," she said, "but there are exceptions. This vampire, he's different. He has a soul. Went through a bunch of demon trials to get it back and everything, and now he's all with the soul having. And he has a chip."

"A chip?" Padma Patil asked.

"Yeah, it's like a computer whats-it in his head that won't let him bite things. Well, nothing in the 'not a demon' category anyway. The government... oh forget it, it's a long story. Come to think of it, most stories involving the United States government tend to be long, boring, and completely wiggy. The point is, he can't bite you, and he wouldn't if he could, so no wands, and no fire!" she warned them. Then she walked to the door leading to her office and opened it.

A man walked out, tall and so violently blonde that Harry was sure he must dye his hair. A cigarette smoked in his pale, pale fingers and he took a long drag on it before giving a less than enthusiastic wave to the class. At Buffy's pointed glare he tossed the cigarette to the stone flagging and snuffed it beneath his boot.

Buffy glowered at him before turning to the class. "This is Spike. Spike, this is my sixth year class. Now play nice, and tell them about being a vampire," she ordered.

He frowned at her. "You know, at least when Giles asks me to do things, he always says please, and then afterwards, if I've done well, I get a cookie," he said. Harry couldn't tell if Spike was joking or not, but decided he must be.

Buffy frowned again, but seemed to be covering up a smile. "Talk!" she ordered.

"Well that was certainly... informative," Hermione said dazedly as they made their way to the Great Hall for dinner. Spike had just finished telling them a series of gruesome and horrifying tales about his life as a vampire, the demons he'd worked against but more oftentimes with, the Slayers he'd fought, the Slayers he'd killed...

"To quote Buffy," Ron said, "I know you meant to say gross and disturbing!"

"Oh, yes, that too," Hermione said in a strange, breathy sort of voice. They reached the Great Hall and took seats at the Gryffindor table, Ron giving Hermione a knowing look with narrowed eyes the entire time.

"You fancy him!" Ron declared, clearly offended by the idea.

Hermione blushed. "Pass the roast beef, please," she said.

As Ron began listing all the reasons why it was a bad idea to fancy a vampire and especially Spike, Harry bolted his dinner in record time and left the hall as quickly as he could, muttering something about needing to do some research for their Defense essay due on Monday. He hated listening to Ron and Hermione argue all the time. Over the summer, when Ron had been complaining about Hermione not writing to them, Ginny had made a comment that had Harry rolling on the floor with laughter. Her eyes twinkling, she'd said, "For Merlin's sake, Ron. You have the emotional maturity of a blueberry scone! She's perfect for you. Just have at it, would you, and stop fluttering about!"

Thinking about Ginny made him frown even more. Why was she being like this? She was right, Harry was desperate to know what had happened to her in the forest on Halloween. Because whatever it was had changed her into someone Harry didn't recognize, someone Harry didn't even think he cared to know.

With a sigh Harry pushed open the doors to the library and threw his things onto an empty table. He glanced at his essay topic, wondering briefly what Snape would think of it ("Werewolves are people, too--discuss"). With another long sigh Harry wandered off into the Dark Creatures section of the stacks, lost in thought.