Harry Potter and the Watcher's Council

"Bottom line is, even if you see 'em coming, you're not ready for the big moments. No one asks for their life to change, not really. But it does. So what are we, helpless? Puppets? No. The big moments are gonna come. You can't help that. It's what you do afterwards that counts. That's when you find out who you are." -Whistler, "Becoming, Part I"

Harry spent the days leading up to Christmas in a state of nervous agitation. He found he couldn't stand to be in the same room with Ginny for more than a few minutes, not that she seemed to notice. In fact, Ginny spent most of her time locked in her room with Dawn, or out with Buffy and Willow on shopping trips to get new supplies for Defense class. She did not mention the vampire attack they’d witnessed, nor did she say a word about Malfoy. Ron likewise kept silent. Harry suspected his friend was torn. He caught Ron gazing at his sister with alternating looks of rage and worry countless times. Harry himself didn’t know what to think. He only knew that he wished he hadn’t seen Ginny with Malfoy that night on the dance floor. The image of the two of them kissing played over and over in his head like a broken record, making Harry irritable and depressed in turns.

Contrary to all attempts to forget about what he’d seen, or at the very least pretend it had never happened, Harry couldn’t seem to stop thinking about Malfoy, either. He remembered the way Malfoy had stared at Ginny, had touched her so easily and familiarly, each time feeling a pang of sickness in his stomach. He was only thankful Ron hadn't seen that kiss--he didn't want to imagine his friend's reaction to such a thing.

The only thing that comforted Harry was the fact that, from what Malfoy and Ginny had discussed after the fight in the alley, it seemed Dumbledore knew something of what was going on. She had definitely mentioned the Order to Malfoy, and seemed to think they might have sent the vampires to kill her. Harry couldn't imagine Dumbledore trying to have Ginny killed--the entire idea was ridiculous--but then maybe that was simply part of Malfoy's ploy to turn Ginny against them, making her believe that the Order was out to get her. Harry felt only slightly better knowing that someone, at least, was aware of the situation. It wasn't all down to him and for this, at least, Harry was grateful. He was sick of keeping secrets and of others—people he should’ve been able to trust with his life—keeping things from him. It had nearly destroyed him the year before, and the last thing Harry wanted was to lose another friend because he’d been kept in the dark, thinking all depended on him.

Ron woke him on Christmas morning sounding more cheerful than he had in weeks. "Oi, Harry!" he said, throwing his pillow at the sleeping boy across the room. "We've got presents!"

It never failed to surprise Harry how excited Ron could get over presents. Maybe it was the fact that, until coming to Hogwarts, Harry had never really had a proper Christmas before (unless you counted watched Dudley open his gifts while smirking at Harry, who usually had none, which Harry didn't), but he never felt the same kind of excitement at seeing them as Ron seemed to. Harry groaned and rolled onto his back, reaching blindly on the bedside table for his glasses.

"Was the pillow throwing really necessary?" Harry asked grumpily, sitting up in bed. He fixed his glasses onto his face and saw that he did indeed have a small pile of gifts at the foot of his bed. He threw back the covers and crawled to the end of his bed, picking up the topmost gift and grinning as he watched Ron tear into his own large pile.

Harry had gotten a new Skiving Snackbox from Hermione ("to replace the one you used for me"), a new jumper and some mince pies from Mrs. Weasley, a pair of Chudley Canons socks that flashed in alternating stripes of orange and black with zooming cannons flying across the toes from Ron, who seemed determined that Harry should like his Quidditch team, and, to Harry's great surprise, a small, square package from Remus Lupin, his former Defense professor. Harry frowned at the package, worrying that he hadn't thought to get anything for Lupin. Now that Sirius was gone, he didn't feel like he had much of a connection with the other man.

"What's in it then?" asked Ron, who grinned at him from beneath a large pile of shredded wrappings.

Harry shrugged and opened the package carefully. To his surprise, a thin volume of black leather and parchment fell onto his lap from the wrapping.

"It looks like a diary," Harry said, nonplussed. Why would Lupin send him something like this? The cover was smooth and worn, and just a little battered.

"Is there anything written in it?" Ron asked a bit nervously. "It’s not... enchanted? Or evil?"

Harry rolled his eyes at his friend. "Why would Lupin send me an evil diary?" He opened the diary, and to his surprise there were words on the first page already.

"Property of Sirius Black. Keep out. THIS MEANS YOU, MOONY!"

The rest of the pages were blank. Harry flipped through the pages, only stopping when a folded slip of parchment fell out onto his lap.

Dear Harry-
I found this diary in an old box of Sirius's things and I thought you might like to have it. It’s not enchanted, but there is a password on it to prevent anyone reading the entries. Once you figure out the password (which I won't reveal--I trust you to find it on your own!), you'll be able to read the diary as well, although I warn you, there are things in it that you may not... like, per se. Sirius wrote in this when we were in school, and afterwards, until he was taken to Azkaban.

There are private things in it that I am trusting you to be discreet with. I'm not worried though, Harry. From what I know of you, you're not a judgmental person; rather you're quite accepting of other people's faults. It’s something that I marveled at during my time at Hogwarts as your professor, and I know your parents would be proud of you.

With that in mind, I want you to know, Harry, that if you should ever need anything, please call on me. I know we haven't been close, not like you and Sirius were, but Lily and James, and Sirius too, they were my friends--the best friends I ever had. I know they'd want me to be looking after you, and that is what I would like, too. If you ever need to contact me, just send a message with Hedwig. She'll always be able to find me, and so should you.

Yours Sincerely,
Remus

Harry tucked the note back into the pages of the diary, a strange tickling sensation burning at the corners of his eyes. To distract himself, he showed Ron the front page. Ron snorted.

"Bit paranoid, wasn't he? Why would Professor Lupin want to go reading his diary? He doesn't seem the type, really."

"He says there's a password on it, but I'm to figure it out myself." Harry swallowed and shoved the small book into his trunk with the rest of his gifts. He didn't want to think about Sirius today, not with everything else that was happening. Just then Dawn and Willow burst into their room, causing Ron to squeak and pull his bed sheet up to his chin.

"We're not decent in here!" he yelled, flushing.

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Puh-leeze," she said, grabbing Ron by the hand and trying to drag him from the bed. "You'd think people who wear dresses half the time would be a little less prudey."

"Giles is making pancakes!" Willow told them, seeming far more excited about the prospect than Harry thought was strictly necessary. "With chocolate and strawberries and whip cream!"

Harry followed them downstairs, watching with amusement as Ron tried very hard to pretend he didn't like all the attention Dawn paid him.

"Did you have a good Christmas? Get anything good?" Harry asked Willow.

She snorted. "I'm Jewish, hello! Not everybody worships Santa, you know."

The pancakes turned out to be quite delicious, and Harry could almost see why Willow had been so excited about them. Even Ginny, who'd been sullen and secretive for most of their stay, came out of her shell a bit to smile and thank Giles for breakfast. Harry noticed that she looked downright awful, with huge dark circles under her eyes. Her skin was pale and papery-looking, her usually bright hair dull and lank. Maybe Malfoy had broken up with her, he wondered hopefully. But just as he was starting to believe it from her morose expression, a large tawny eagle owl landed on the window sill and began tapping impatiently at the glass. Buffy opened the window and the owl swooped inside, dropping a long, thin package on Ginny’s lap before flying off again, ruffling its feathers importantly.

"Oooh, what is it?" Dawn, who still wasn't used to owl post, asked excitedly.

Ginny unwrapped the package carefully to reveal something that flashed silver and green: a dagger, Harry saw when she placed it on the table to examine it, with an emerald studded hilt and a silver sheath decorated with delicate filigree work.

Giles's eyes lit on the dagger with a look of excitement.

"May I?" he asked Ginny, taking the dagger gingerly in his hands when she offered it to him. He ran his finger delicately down the silvery blade and took off his glasses to peer more closely at the hilt.

"Hm, yes, I thought so," he muttered to himself. "This is almost certainly the Dagger of Amalia." They all stared at him blankly. He cleared his throat. "Amalia was thought to be an Indian Princess who lived in sometime during the fifth century. She was chosen among all the daughters of royal lineage to be um, sacrificed to the goddess Lakshmi after a particularly horrendous season of draught. As legend would have it, her secret lover was the very one chosen to perform the task, and this is the dagger he used to bleed her. It’s very rare, and I was quite certain it had been lost but, uh, perhaps I should consult my books, see if I can find anything else..." He trailed off, handing the dagger back to Ginny and staring into space, seemingly lost in thought.

"Ha!" said Willow in a whispered smirk to Dawn. "I bet ten minutes before he'd consult his books! Pay up!"

As Dawn morosely handed over a crisp green bill to Willow, Buffy examined the dagger from her perch on the kitchen counter. "You have a friend out there," Buffy remarked between bites of pancake. "A really rich friend, with a really weird idea of romance."

Ginny flushed as she read the note that had accompanied it, and Harry knew instantly that the dagger was from Malfoy. His hands clenched in fists beneath the table, and he had to work hard to suppress the things he wanted to shout at Ginny. Ron had no such qualms.

"How can you stand it!" he said, standing up so quickly his chair went flying backwards. "He's disgusting and Slytherin and, oh yeah, completely evil!"

Buffy tried to step in. "Ron, I don't think it’s really any of your--"

"She's my sister!" Ron yelled. "I won't have her carrying on with a, a Malfoy! "

"It’s her life," Dawn said. "You can't tell her what to do just because you're older!" She was talking to Ron, but glaring at Buffy.

"All right, for those of you who have just tuned in, everyone here is a crazy person!" Ron said. "This is Draco Malfoy we're talking about. As in son of Lucius. As in guy who tried to do us all in last year. As in guy who gave you that diary! "

"Ron, I know who he is!" Ginny said, standing up to face him. "And for the last time, just stay out of it. You can't possibly understand!" She was in his face now, yelling. "Draco is not his father. Last I checked, they were separate entities!"

"So it’s 'Draco' now, is it? I can't believe this!" Ron roared. "You're actually buying his repentant, I'm-not-my-father act?!"

"I know what I'm doing, Ron," Ginny said coldly, clutching the dagger to her chest protectively. "Why can't you just trust me?"

"You're not acting in a very trustworthy manner, are you?" Ron asked, his eyes wild and dark. "Won't talk to me for weeks on end, refuse to tell us what happened on Halloween... in September you were talking about how evil the Slytherins were and nearly hexing Malfoy on the Quidditch pitch! And now you're making googly eyes at him and it’s, it’s... against all laws of god and man! He's a Malfoy! We're Weasleys! We're meant to hate each other!"

"It’s my decision, Ron, and you yelling at me certainly isn’t going to change it! You've got no right! Ignoring me for four years, and now suddenly you want to be my friend again, but I know what this is really about. I'm not stupid," she spat, and Harry could see she was very close to tears. "You think I know something, and you're desperate to find out what. Can't stand to be left in the dark, none of you! But I'm not some toy that you can just conveniently remember exists the moment you get bored!" She stopped, breathing hard, and stared around at all of them. Buffy's eyes were sad with sympathy, Willow looked ready to pound Ron into the ground, and Spike watched it all with a highly amused expression on his face, as if it was one of his television programs.

"You tell him, Red," Spike encouraged. Ginny glared at him fiercely and ran from the room with a sob. Harry heard the distant sound of a door slamming and knew she'd locked herself in her room again.

Harry tried to finish his breakfast but he couldn't eat. His stomach was tied in knots, and though he didn't want to, though he wanted to stay angry at Ginny, he couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for her. Ron looked torn between being crushed and terribly angry at the same time. Harry knew his friend would never accept Ginny being friends--or having any sort of relationship, for that matter—with Draco Malfoy. Malfoy had always been their enemy, since that first train ride to school. Harry couldn't pretend to understand it, either. Malfoy had always been so cruel and nasty to them, and particularly about Ron's family. Still, Harry knew what it felt like to have no friends, to be desperate for people to notice him. And if Ginny really was under some sort of Love Spell... well it wasn't as if she could help it, exactly. Yelling at her certainly wasn't going to help.

It was with this in mind that, when Ron attempted to distract himself with yet another episode of "Dawson's Creek," Harry snuck upstairs and knocked softly on Ginny's door. She didn't answer, but he could hear music coming through the thin panel of wood and knocked a little harder.

"Go away!" Ginny yelled this time.

Harry tried to door, only to find it locked. With only a small twinge of guilt, Harry fetched his wand from his room and whispered a quick "Alohamora! " to unlock the door. He pushed it open slowly and peeked his head in to find Ginny lying on her bed in a tight ball, her back to the room. Music blared from a stereo on the dresser, a very melancholy tune that seemed vaguely familiar to Harry.

...your faith was strong but you needed proof / you saw her bathing on the roof / her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you / she tied you to the kitchen chair / she broke your throne, she cut your hair / and from your lips she drew the Hallelujah...

"Ginny?" he said, coming into the room and shutting the door behind him. Now that he was here, he had no idea what he'd been thinking. He didn't know how to deal with girls on a good day, much less when they were angry and upset and wanted nothing to do with him. Just look at the mess he'd made of things with Cho.

Ginny didn't move, but said into her pillow, "I told you, Harry. I don't want to talk about it."

...maybe I've been here before / I know this room, I've walked this floor / I used to live alone before I knew you / I've seen your flag on the marble arch / love is not a victory march / it's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah...

"Then don't talk," Harry said after a long minute, perching lightly on the end of her bed. "But I've got something to say to you." She didn't respond, so Harry continued awkwardly. "We saw you the other night, Ginny. Behind the club in the alley." She stirred a little, but didn't speak. "I know what you must be going through, and how confusing and difficult it must be for you. And it’s true, we haven't been the best of friends to you. I haven't been a good friend at all. But Ginny, I've had other things on my mind! Voldemort returning, playing tricks with my head, Sirius... You're not exactly being fair to me."

He hadn't meant to accuse her. He felt another twinge of guilt but pushed it firmly aside. Now that he was here, talking to her, he couldn't help but feel all the hurt she'd pushed on him for the past month, since their fight. His words had caused a response, at least; Ginny rolled onto her back and sat up, drawing her knees into her chest to rest her chin on them. She glared at him, and Harry thought dully that her eyes seemed to be the only thing alive in her face.

"I'm not being fair?" she said, her voice filled with bitterness. "I'm not being fair! Life's not fair, Harry! I never thought it would be like this. I didn't realize how it would feel, having to fight everyday to keep the people I love safe. How could you possibly think you could know what I'm going through?! Everything comes so easy to you, Harry. You've faced Voldemort what, four times, and lived to tell about it? Do you realize that Buffy is the oldest Slayer ever, and she's only twenty-one? How is that fair? If I'm lucky--if we're all lucky!--we may live to graduate from Hogwarts, and you're talking to me about fair?"

Harry stared at her, confused. "What are you talking about, you have to fight? You think you're alone, that you're the only one who's frightened? There’s a war coming, Ginny! Do you think I’m not scared out of my wits? That we all aren’t?" Harry felt the urge to grab her by the shoulders and shake her to make her understand. A strange look came into her eyes, and Harry felt a brief spark of hope that perhaps, somehow, he’d gotten through to her. Taking a deep breath, he stared her down. "Do you know what that prophecy said, the one Voldemort was so keen to get his hands on?" Ginny shook her head, the anger in her eyes dimming only a little. "It said that it’s got to be me or him. One of us has got to kill the other, or neither of us can survive. Do you understand what that means, Ginny? I'm protected for now, but sooner or later, I've got to face him. And I'm going to die."

Ginny's lips parted in surprise and she stared at him, her anger forgotten. She reached out to touch his shoulder gently, but he recoiled from her with a glare. "Harry..." she whispered, scooting closer to him on the bed. "I didn't... but it’s not... you're not going to die!" Her eyes were hard as she said this, grasping his shoulders to force him to look at her. "I won't let you!"

And then she kissed him.

It was exactly like the kiss in his dream. Her lips burned hot against his, and a feeling of complete and utter rightness settled over him, as if this was where he was meant to be.

...there was a time you let me know / what's really going on below / but now you never show it to me, do you? / I remember when I moved in you / your holy dark was moving too / And every breath we drew was Hallelujah...

But as soon as the kiss had started it was over and she was pushing him away, dashing tears from her eyes angrily.

"You have to go now, Harry!" she said, burying her face in her hands. "Just... just leave me alone! Get out!"

Harry left in a daze and found himself back in the room he shared with Ron, not really knowing how he'd gotten there, feeling as if his emotions had simply shut down due to an overload. He'd gone and told Ginny about the prophecy, and now she'd probably tell Malfoy, not that it really mattered if Voldemort knew--he was trying to kill Harry regardless. And then she'd kissed him. What had that all been about? Was she fighting the spell she was under, somehow? And what had she meant, she was fighting to keep the people she loved safe?

Harry lay on his bed for a long time, staring at the ceiling, his mind rushing with questions that had no answers.

Eventually Harry made his way down to the parlor, where the rest of the day was spent in tense silence, broken only by the sounds of the television and Spike's occasional comments about the characters on his program. Ginny would not leave her room despite pleas from Dawn and Buffy, although Harry found he was happier that way. He didn't understand what had happened between them, and he had a sinking feeling in his stomach that it hadn't changed anything. Neither did he understand the thing between her and Malfoy, and he didn't want to, either. The only thing he really knew for sure was that she wasn't the same girl who'd tried to get him to dance at Halloween, and something was terribly, terribly wrong. Instead of worrying about it, he poured over his defense texts, trying to figure out what could possibly have happened to her to make her act this way. He was hoping desperately that it wasn't a Love Potion, because Hermione had told them bleakly that most Love Potions were irreversible. He was sure it had to be some kind of curse, and that Malfoy was the key. All afternoon he sat in the parlor with the rest, reading about the symptoms of mind controlling curses until his eyes blurred.

The golden light of the day had all but leeched from the room by the time Harry decided to take a break. Slamming his book shut, he turned his attention to the television, which was once again showing "Dawson's Creek." Harry wrinkled his nose--this wasn't his idea of a good program. Far too much angst, and it was really quite unrealistic, as far as he could tell.

"Er, anyone up for a film?" he suggested, sending a pleading look toward Willow who, looking equally bored, was examining some of the new crystals and herbs she had bought that week.

"Great!" she exclaimed, standing up. "I'll make popcorn. You guys choose something. Nothing Indian, though. That last one about the singing whale..."

They had just decided on Star Wars, which Ron was eager to see after Willow's attempted metaphor during their first Defense class, when Willow returned with a large bowl of popcorn. "I come bearing popcorny goodne--" and with a sudden shriek she dropped the bowl, scattering popcorn across the carpet, and grabbed her head, her face screwed up in pain.

"Will!" Buffy yelled, running to her friend. "What's wrong?"

"It’s the wards!" she gasped, tears now streaming from her eyes. "Someone's trying to get in. I need...arggh!" She pushed Buffy away suddenly. Her head whipped up and she stared Harry directly in the eyes, although he didn't think she really saw him at all. And then she began to speak, and as she did so, her eyes turned black as ink, frightening dark pools where green and white used to be.

"Enemies rise and fall!" she yelled. "Circling arms, raise a wall!" She lifted her own arms and a circle of golden light flooded from them, pouring outward to surround them.

Buffy ran to the window. "We're being attacked!" she yelled. "The barrier's up, but some of them are trapped inside with us!"

Without a word Harry pulled his wand out and headed for the door, followed closely behind by Ron. Two black robed figures burst through the door just as they reached it. "Stupefy!" one of them roared, his wand shooting a jet of red at Harry. He dodged just in time, rolling across the hall to avoid the spell.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry yelled his own spell from the floor. The man's wand flew from his hand and Harry caught it deftly, straggling to his feet just in time to hear Ron cry out and fall to the floor, hit by a spell from the other attacker.

Buffy ran into the hall, quickly followed by Willow, who stopped the armed man with a shouted command in a deep voice that was surely not her own, "STAY THERE." As Buffy began fighting with the man Harry had disarmed, the other man, who'd been running forward to finish Ron off, slowed to almost a complete stop. He moved as if stuck in a quagmire, straining against some unseen force.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Harry yelled, freezing the slowed man and forcing his limbs to snap together, immobile. Meanwhile Buffy had quickly immobilized the other man, who was clearly not used to physical fighting, and was kneeling beside him, one knee pressed into his chest, her hand on his throat.

"A little help would be nice!" she called out.

"Get out of the way!" Harry commanded, and the moment she did, thin ropes shot from his wand with a loud BANG, wrapping themselves around the man.

Harry rushed to Ron's side. He'd only been Stunned, Harry saw with relief. "Enervate!" Harry whispered, pointing his wand at his friend. Ron moaned and opened his eyes.

"What's going on?" he asked. "Is everything okay? Did we win?"

Harry gave him a small smile. "Sort of." He helped Ron to his feet, then strode over the bound man. Kneeling down beside him, he ripped off the man's hood to reveal a face he'd never seen before.

"Who's the other one?" he asked, motioning for Ron to unmask the Petrified man.

"It's Crabbe. Or is it Goyle? One of those," Ron said.

Buffy went to the door and looked out. "There's more out there, but they can't get through the barrier," she told them.

Harry rushed to the door to stand next to Buffy. In the darkness of the street outside, through a thin haze that could only be the barrier Willow had erected, at least ten people in dark robes and masks had their wands out and were throwing spells against the barrier. The barrier seemed to drink in their spells, though, rather than wavering. Harry thought it must be designed to convert the magic of the spells into further protection.

"Death Eaters," he said, feeling more calm than he thought was possible. "How long will this barrier hold?"

"As long as we need," Willow gasped, blinking slowly. Her eyes had shifted to green again, Harry saw with relief.

"Your eyes did that freaky thing again, Will," Dawn said, leading Willow back into the parlor to sit on the couch.

"I'm fine," Willow murmured, leaning her head against the back rest of the couch. “I’m fine.”

Harry heard someone running down the stair behind them and whirled around, pointing his wand at the foot of the steps, but it was only Ginny. "What's happened?" she asked, clutching her own wand. "I heard shouting..."

"We're under siege," Buffy said, still staring out the window. "By--what did you call them?--Deaf Cheaters? Weird name for bad guys."

Ginny joined them at the door, staring stonily at the figures outside the barrier. "Aren't you happy to see your new friends?" Ron asked her scathingly. She turned away without a word and went to sit by Willow.

"Well, uh, this is quite unexpected," Giles said from the doorway. "Is there anything we should be doing? I'm quite at a loss for dealing with, uh, what did you call them?"

"Death Eaters," Harry said, turning away from the window to face them. "Voldemort's followers. I shouldn't have come here! They're here for me. Dumbledore said we'd be safe here."

"And you are," Buffy said. "Look, half these guys are escaped convicts, right? Won't the police show up at some point and chase them off?"

Harry shivered. "I hope not. Muggles... they hate Muggles! It won't cost them a thing to kill anyone who tries to stop them. In fact," he said with a bitter glare at Ginny's back, "they'd probably enjoy it!"

"They'll leave," Ginny said suddenly in a cold voice. "They won't waste their time here, once they figure out they can't get through."

Ginny was right. After nearly twenty minutes of trying to break the barrier, the Death Eaters began Disapparating one by one, until they had all gone. The street was silent and dark once more.

They didn't know quite what to do with the Death Eaters they'd captured. Harry Stunned them, not wanting to take any chances, and Spike and Buffy dragged them into the parlor. After tying them securely to some chairs from the kitchen, Harry and Ron revived them. They glared angrily at the group seated in a half circle around them, but didn't speak.

"What should we do with them?" Ron asked nervously.

"I'm always up for a spot of torture," Spike said with a smile.

"I thought you had a soul?" Ginny asked, scooting her chair away from the vampire.

"Oh c'mon now, don't tell me you've never gone after someone with a nice sharp knife and a couple liters of rubbing alcohol," Spike said, looking around eagerly as if he might find those very items lying around the parlor.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Let's be serious here. We captured these Deaf guys. Not what do we do with them?"

"You could let us go," one of them men suggested. "The Dark Lord would reward you--"

"Are you kidding me?" Harry asked, amazed the man would even suggest it. "You do know who I am, right? You came here to kill us!"

The man gave Harry a shrewd look. "That's what you think."

Before they could question the men further, a tapping at the window made everyone jump. Dawn hurried over to see what the noise was. "It’s an owl," she told them. "Should I let it in?"

"Might as well," Giles said.

The owl was from none other than Professor Dumbledore himself. Giles read it with a furrowed brow. "He says to keep these men here until help arrives, which should be shortly, and to leave the barrier up. They'll Portkey in... none of us are to leave the house in the meantime."

They had only a few minutes to wait before the sounds of two people in the front hall made them all jump up. Lupin and Moody strode into the parlor, both looking exhausted. "Thank goodness you're all safe!" Lupin said as he surveyed the room. His eyes landed on the Death Eaters and he flinched. "I'd hoped none of them would get in."

"Yes well, now we have a few more for Azkaban, eh," Moody said. He approached the two men, his magical eye swiveling in his head. "Let's just give them the Sleeping Draft and we can be on our way. It’s been a long day."

After they had administered the potion to the Death Eaters, who obligingly slumped unconscious in their bonds, Lupin and Moody conjured stretchers for them and departed shortly thereafter, using the Portkey they'd come in on. Harry was almost sad to see them go. He would've liked to ask Lupin about the diary he'd sent Harry, but he could tell the two men had had very little sleep lately. They both had dark rings under their eyes, and Lupin had looked almost ill, his skin pale and delicate looking.

All in all it hadn't been much of a battle, Harry thought to himself as he climbed into bed that night. He lay awake until nearly dawn, though, thinking about the events of the past few months. Because surely, the only way the Death Eaters could have known where they were was if someone told them. And who had the address but none other than Draco Malfoy, judging by the number of owls he'd sent Ginny over the past week. It all led back to Ginny, and that night in the forest. If only he knew for sure what had happened...

Harry dreamed of the club again that night. He smiled at Sirius across the small table, all thoughts of Ginny and curses forgotten for the moment. "It's good to see you," he said shyly.

Sirius flashed a white smile, but it faded quickly from his face. "Yes but... I have another message for you," he said, his eyes sad. "It's starting, and I'm not sure there's a way to stop it."

"Stop what?" Harry asked.

"The killing..."

"You're always so cheerful, when we talk," Harry commented with a grim smile. "Is Ginny going to be here tonight?" he asked suddenly, looking around the club for a sign of her vivid hair.

"Is that what you want, Harry?" Sirius asked solemnly. He sipped diligently at his drink, watching Harry with sharp eyes.

"I don't know what I want anymore," Harry said, gazing out onto the dance floor. "I think she must hate me."

"Love... hate. It's all the same. It’s all... passion."

"It would be easier if I could just hate her," Harry said miserably. "And I think... I think that's what she wants. To be the villain of the thing. Nothing's ever simple anymore. I'm constantly trying to work it out. Who to love or hate. Who to trust. The more I know, the more confused I become. Does it... does it ever get easier?"

Sirius smiled faintly. "Yes, the good guys are always stalwart and true, the bad guys are easily distinguished by their pointy horns or black hats, and we always defeat them and save the day. No one ever dies, and everybody lives happily ever after."

"Liar," Harry said with a small smile.

Sirius gasped suddenly and stood from the table. "You've got to go!" He was yelling, but none of the club's patrons seemed to be able to hear him. His eyes blazed at Harry in the dim light of the club. "You've got to go now! It's all starting!"

The dream faded to darkness and Harry woke gasping and clutching his sheets. "What's wrong?" he heard Ron's voice murmur sleepily from his bed. The sun had just risen. It couldn't be past six in the morning.

And suddenly Harry knew. "Hermione..." he said, swallowing hard. "Something's happened. We've got to find her, now!"

Ron sat up in bed, suddenly wide awake. "You've had another vision?" he asked, fear threading through his voice. "Is she... all right?"

"I don't know!" Harry yelled, frantically pulling on his clothing. "But we've got to... I think I can find her house, if I concentrate hard enough. We'll have to fly..."

"But we'll be seen!" Ron said, dressing as quickly as he could. "What about the International Code of Secrecy, or whatever the damn thing's called?"

"Bugger that!" Harry said, pulling his broom from his trunk. "I don't care if we're seen! I don't care if we're expelled! We've got to find her!"

"Okay, mate. Calm down," Ron said, pulling out his own broom. He clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder as Harry pushed frantically to open the window. "We'll find her."

They flew for what seemed like hours, although when Harry glanced at his watch he discovered it had been only little more than an hour. Harry led them high above the clouds, so that they couldn't be seen from below, urging his broom ever northward. He couldn't explain how he knew where to go, just that he did, and the closer they got, the easier it became for him until--

"There!" Harry yelled, pointing his broom downward toward the place he could sense, rather than see. To his relief there was no one about when he landed on a quiet street of two story, cookie cutter houses that reminded him painfully of Privet Drive. Ron landed next to him, sweating and breathing in gasps.

"Where now?" he asked. But all he had to do was follow Harry's stricken gaze to the neat blue house on the end of the street. Above it, huge and ugly, glittering and shimmering with a sickening green light, was the Dark Mark.