Lux Aeterna

Lux Aeterna: Chapter Five - The Work Begins

Remus exerted all his concentration on the large, grey boulder floating before him, moving it slowly to one side, and then letting it down gently on the ground a short distance away. It landed neatly and securely with a dull thud, sending up a small cloud of brown dust at its base. With weary satisfaction, Remus turned around and levitated the next lump of rock in his path.

The same monotonous task had consumed him for the last fifteen hours, ever since Sirius and Ron had abandoned the Aurors to race back into the rubble of Azkaban to retrieve the bodies of their loved-ones. The work was exhausting, the effort of trying to clear a path into the debris proceeding only slowly on account of the air being so thick with dust. But the Aurors refused to give up. Remus was certain his lungs were filling with dirt, but concern for his friends, and the certainty that if they weren't found soon they would be buried by the unstable structure kept him going.

Remus aimed his wand at the next boulder and said, "Wingardium leviosa!" The rock instantly rose up from the ground, and Remus guided it carefully to one side, trying to ignore the ache that travelled up his tired wand-arm at the action.

Neither he nor his colleagues had slept for twenty-four hours, and the weariness was beginning to tell. They were all slowing down, lulled into a passive sort of motion both by their own exhaustion and by the greenhouse effect of the dust around them that was trapping the last rays of the sun and making them feel warm and sleepy.

Help had arrived from the Wizarding Emergency Services, but most of the Aurors felt too personally involved with the situation to leave the work to their more qualified colleagues. Besides, the Emergency Wizards needed all the help they could get. Their resources had apparently been stretched to the limit by the baffling plethora of emergencies that had coincided with the destruction of Azkaban, among them the collapse of an entire block of buildings on Knockturn Alley in London.

The news was bizarre, but Remus had no time to dwell on the strange events that had been taking place across the country. His concern for his friends had been rising with every passing minute, and now he had yet another fear. Dusk was falling, and it wouldn't be long before the full moon rose and the wolf took hold. He knew he would have to leave soon, and make for the confines of the cage he kept in the cellar of his house near Cornwall, but he desperately wanted to see some progress made before he left.

His arm was really starting to ache now, but as he moved another rock, Remus had to concede that he was lucky, really. Normally he would feel far worse on the day of the full moon. And he hadn't even slept in twenty-four hours! Perhaps the adrenaline in his system was preventing him from feeling as ill as he should. No doubt it would all hit him in an hour or so. Still, he hoped the transformation wouldn't be too painful.

An enormous boulder lay ahead, and Remus knew he wouldn't be able to shift it on his own. To his right he caught a glimpse of Mira McGonagall, and she nodded in affirmation. Together they pointed their wands at the large obstruction, and said, "Wingardium leviosa!" The rock lifted slightly, but refused to rise any higher. It then dropped back to earth with a loud crash.

Several frustrating attempts later, and a large crowd had gathered by the huge rock. Remus laughed inwardly every time another person would arrive on the scene assuming that he was in some way incompetent and then try to show him how it was done. All of them failed, of course, but it was funny to see it happen time and time again. Finally, he suggested that they all try to lift it together simultaneously. Somewhat abashed, they agreed, and Remus hurried to gather as many people as possible for the spell. The sun was barely visible on the horizon now, but he had no intention of leaving until the irritating lump of rock was beaten.

Together, the witches and wizards cast the Levitation Charm on the rock. Slowly it rose up off the ground and hovered in place. "All right," McGonagall boomed, "Move it over to the left!" Two dozen wands slowly moved to the left, guiding the floating boulder. There was an agonising moment as it seemed to tremble too near the path, threatening to fall, but gradually the magic re-asserted its power over the article, and it moved to the desired touchdown area.

Remus wiped his brow in relief. "Great. Thanks, everyone. That worked really well." The others returned to their own areas, mumbling replies that were inaudible.

McGonagall grinned at him. "I think they just said, 'You're welcome.'"

"Either that," Remus quipped, laughing "or, 'Go to hell'." He turned back to where the boulder had blocked his path before. A cave now stood in front of him, its entrance newly revealed by the removal of the large rock. As he stepped closer to investigate, he heard McGonagall approach from behind. Then she gasped, and jumped in delight. "This is it!" she exclaimed. "This is where they ran off. The Weasley boy was trapped under those rocks there," she said, pointing.

"That's great," Remus replied, feeling hopeful at last. "We'll find them in no time. The Throne Room can't be far from here, and I'm sure that's where Sirius would have gone to find Harry." He rubbed his arm absently, thinking. "Damn! I wish I could stay a bit longer. We're so close now."

Mira clucked sympathetically. "Don't worry, we'll find them. She looked him up and down, considering. "Look, there's no need for you to come straight back tomorrow. Rest up first. Sirius is going to need your support in the days ahead."

Remus nodded sadly. "Yeah, this is going to be really hard on him. Knowing Sirius he'll think this is something he needs to feel guilty about. But I'll try to get here early. It's the least I can do for him... I'd better go now. The full moon will be-"

Remus looked up at the sky, and received the greatest shock of his life, more astonishing than the news that the baby Harry Potter had survived an attack from the Dark Lord. For there, shining brightly through the dark brown haze above, just as he remembered it from his childhood, was the full moon. And he hadn't transformed.

***

Three months earlier...

Harry stood on the granite steps outside the main entrance of Hogwarts, watching impatiently as students clambered into the horseless carriages lined up on the gravel path below. The wide, sweeping lawn of Hogwarts stretched out before him like a carpet, drawing his gaze down toward the Great Lake which moved restlessly in the distance, its dull surface marked with stiff, angular ripples that sheared the grey mass like an army of silver knives. The sky above was a lighter shade of grey.

All in all, Harry had to admit it was rather a bland, uninteresting day, the kind that is never shown on picture postcards but which you know to be the unpleasant, inevitable reality of a place. Not quite what you'd expect or hope of the Scottish Highlands at Christmas time, but inarguably real. Harry supposed he should be content with that. There was much to be said for truth and honesty, after all.

But he wasn't content. The miserable, damp picture of the Hogwarts countryside served merely to remind him of the cold, bleak place that his thoughts now habituated. It was further proof of his certainty that the world would never, absolutely never, give him what he hoped for. Disappointment was inevitable, and no matter how deserving he felt he was, fate simply wouldn't deliver what he needed. He wasn't going to get his parents back just by hoping for it, or by suffering just enough that a positive turn would seem bound to follow. It simply wouldn't happen, and it was time to accept that.

Yet he couldn't help but long for something special to happen. The miracle of seeing his dreams translate into reality occupied his thoughts daily. He'd earned it, surely. Was it too much to ask for what everyone else received as a matter of course?

All he had ever wanted was to know his parents; he had never dreamed of anything more elaborate than that. While some boys fantasised about buying Ferraris, playing for the national football team, or marrying an attractive blonde, Harry had only ever wondered what it would be like to live with his own family. That luxury had been denied him, and he had accepted it. For years he had lived with the complete certainty that death was irreversible. He had never presumed to ask for anything more.

Then he had discovered magic, and it offered up all sorts of possibilities. The ultimate possibility, the one he was now certain all his years at Hogwarts had been leading up to, was necromancy. Everyone said it was unspeakably monstrous, that it left a terrible mark on the souls of those it touched. They had told him to forget about it, even after he had held his mother for one precious moment and breathed in the warm scent of her hair. They had told him it would destroy him.

Maybe it would destroy him, but he had to at least try. The guilt of not trying would hurt him far more than the sting of failure. That was why he had decided to remain at Hogwarts for Christmas, and not take up Sirius and Arabella's invitation to Privet Lawns.

Staying behind hadn't been an easy decision to make. He was tired, worn down by the refusal of every adult figure in his life to assist him in his efforts to save his parents. They had hindered him every step of the way, drove him close to despair by refusing to help. They had even charmed the entrance to the Restricted Section of the library to prevent him entering. They had exhausted him, crushed almost all his hope and spirit. When Malfoy had approached him in the stables near Hagrid's hut, Harry had been on the verge of giving up. It hadn't been easy finding the energy or the inclination to continue, especially when the figure that had miraculously appeared to solve all his problems was the least trustworthy individual Harry had ever had the misfortune of knowing.

He would have loved to go home for Christmas. The thought of spending a nice, normal, quiet Christmas with family was very attractive to him, especially after the difficulties of the last few months. Sirius and Arabella had promised him a Christmas tree, a proper turkey dinner and presents. It would have been wonderful, almost like having a real family. Almost.

But there were other incentives for going home too. Harry still felt that he needed to clear the air with Sirius, and the holidays would have offered him the perfect opportunity to do so. Their argument over Harry's fixation with necromancy, and the dangers of Sirius' profession, had almost destroyed their friendship. And however much Harry wanted his parents back, he couldn't bear the thought of Sirius hating or resenting him in any way. Sirius had been there for him through thick and thin, and he could never forget that. He loved Sirius, almost like a brother, he supposed, and desperately craved the elder man's reassurance that he hadn't lost his good opinion forever. It was hard to say now when he would ever get the chance to clear the air.

Deep down, however, Harry was also conscious that going home would symbolise, both to himself and to his godparents, that he was giving up. While he almost felt tired and discouraged enough to do so, he just couldn't, not when there was even the slightest chance of saving his Mum and Dad. He wasn't ready to concede failure yet.

Besides, he told himself, this would be the final attempt. If Malfoy proved once again to be a liar, then Harry would stop trying to succeed on his own, at least for awhile. The thought of spending another year obsessing over his dead parents was just too horrible to imagine. He was tired of all that, and it had got him nowhere.

But maybe this time he would succeed...

Harry rubbed his eyes wearily, and consciously forced himself to relax. He had to look normal for Ron and Hermione so they wouldn't suspect anything. They were upstairs finishing the last of their packing, but would be leaving soon for The Burrow. Harry didn't want them worrying about him over the holidays. They deserved a break from the non-stop craziness of being friends of famous Harry Potter. Now that they were so happy together, finally 'a couple', he was sure they'd have a wonderful time without him over the holidays. The last thing they needed was more agony over their psychotic friend.

Once again he reminded himself that this would be it, the last attempt, the final gulp of air before reaching the pool wall. He was relieved that it would all be over soon. He would just put whatever energy he had left into this one last, desperate effort, and if he failed, then at least he would know that he had done his best. When it was all over everything would get back to normal. He'd play chess with Ron, maybe get some work done for the O.W.L.s with Hermione. It would be just like old times, and people would stop worrying about him.

It was a real nuisance, being worried about. Sirius was bad enough, but Harry now suspected that his godfather had coaxed Hermione and Ron into spying for him. Between the three of them, Professor Dumbledore, and Ginny Weasley of all people, Harry could hardly sneeze without being asked about it. It was all very irritating, which was why Malfoy had refused to work with him until the holidays began, when most of the students would be absent.

The Slytherin boy was adamant about the need for complete privacy. He was terrified of being seen practising the Dark Arts by any of the teachers. Harry knew that the Ministry had given him a lot of trouble lately, especially following the mysterious disappearance of the remains of his inheritance. Being seen practising Dark Magic would only serve to make his situation worse, so the need for discretion had forced them to wait until the Christmas holidays. It made sense in a paranoid, Slytherin kind of way, but Harry resented the fact that he had been forced to give up his only chance to see his godparents, and to face the unpleasant possibility that Malfoy had been lying about his abilities.

The sight of his two friends standing near one of the carriages broke Harry's train of thought, and he listened somewhat enviously to their lighthearted banter. Ron and Hermione looked so happy together, so comfortable with each other. They hardly even argued anymore. Harry supposed it was just the novelty of being a couple that was making them go out of their way to be so agreeable to each other. No doubt they would revert to their usual selves in a month or two.

Plastering a fake smile over his face, Harry walked up behind Ron and helped him lift his trunk into the carriage. "All set?" he asked, nodding at Hermione as she moved away to help Lavender Brown with her vanity case.

"Yeah, I think that's everything," Ron replied. "I almost forgot Pig, but then I found him stuffed under my pillow." Laughing Ron pulled the tiny ball of feathers out of his pocket. Pigwidgeon looked around tiredly before lifting his wing over his head and going back to sleep.

"What's wrong with him? He usually has more energy than that," Harry said, poking the immobile bird with his finger.

Ron looked a little guilty. "I used him to send a letter to Mum yesterday, and he, em, just got back from Hermione's place." Catching the knowing smile on Harry's face, he quickly tried to defend himself, "Well, her parents didn't know the address to send her presents to. I couldn't very well leave her without presents on Christmas morning, now, could I?"

"Oh, I'm sure you would have thought of something," Harry said significantly.

Ron blinked at him before finally understanding. "Oh, go away, Harry! You're worse than Fred and George. You're filthy, the lot of you. Honestly."

Harry laughed. "Yeah. Maybe that's why we're so useless with the ladies."

"Well, Fred and George may be useless, but you're not," Ron said, patting him on the shoulder. Harry looked at him curiously. "Didn't you hear?" Ron asked, smiling archly, "Ginny's staying at Hogwarts for Christmas too. Now I wonder why that could be..."

"Ginny's staying," Harry gasped, horrified. "Oh, no. No. She can't be."

Ron put his hands on his hips. His expression struggled between amusement and accusation. "Look, Harry, we both know she has a crush on you, but if you say one thing to hurt her feelings, I swear I'll-"

Harry raised his hands in surrender. "No, no, Ron, I didn't mean it like that."

Ron said nothing.

Harry stepped forward and spoke quietly and placatingly. "You know I'd never say anything to hurt her. I just thought that I was the only Gryffindor staying behind. If Ginny's there too, it'll be... awkward. You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I suppose. I just, well, don't want her to get hurt. I'm kind of responsible for her."

Harry nodded emphatically. "I know. And I won't hurt her. I promise."

"Good, I'll hold you to that, because the last thing I need is Mum on my back again, telling me to look after your sister," Ron said, grinning as Harry laughed at his impersonation of his mother's voice. Ron climbed up into the carriage and looked fondly back at the school. "I sometimes forget how impressive it is," he said, pointing up at the enormous towers above. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

Harry just smiled. It looked grey and dull to him. He supposed everything looked nice when you were in love.

"I suppose we'll be leaving soon. Where'd Hermione get to?"

Harry looked around. "I think she's helping Lavender bring all her bags down."

"Oh," Ron said, looking disappointed. "Hey, Harry, won't you get bored here all Christmas by yourself?"

Harry smiled softly. "I'll have Ginny."

"True. But, seriously. What are you going to do?"

"Study, mostly," Harry said, looking around. "Maybe practice some new Quidditch moves."

Ron sat up suddenly, making Harry turn, and asked quietly, "You're not planning on reading up on that, em, necromancy stuff, are you? Please tell me you're not."

Harry tried to look genuine. "Of course, not. How can I, now that they've charmed the library?"

Ron looked unconvinced. "I know you. You always find a way..."

"I'm just going to study, Ron. It'll be nice to have the tower to myself. Well, practically to myself."

"Mmmm." Ron's face lit up with a smile as he saw Hermione running down the steps towards them. She looked thoroughly annoyed.

Hermione leapt up into the carriage beside Ron. "Can you believe Lavender Brown?" she said angrily. "Five trunks! Five! And they're all bigger than mine are. And she had to pack two vanity cases and a full-length mirror. It shouldn't be allowed. As a prefect, I'm going to lodge an official complaint with Professor Dumbledore. I'm sure she'll take up all the space in the luggage compartment too, and-"

Ron winked at Harry before turning back to Hermione. "She didn't thank you for helping her, did she?"

Hermione stopped in mid-sentence, looking annoyed at the interruption to her scathing monologue on Lavender Brown's excessive luggage. "No, but that's not the point..."

Ron and Harry started laughing.

All at once, the line of carriages started moving slowly down the gravel path. Harry walked alongside Ron and Hermione's carriage, saying goodbye.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said quickly as they approached the exit of the castle grounds, "Do be careful. I heard Draco Malfoy isn't going home this Christmas. Lavender said he's staying here so the Ministry can't get to him."

"They'd probably arrest him if he left," Ron said thoughtfully. "Wouldn't that be great?"

Hermione grinned, but quickly became serious. "Be careful, Harry. Just stay away from him, and there won't be any trouble."

Harry nodded solemnly. "I will. Now have a good Christmas. And don't forget to send me a photo of Ron in his Weasley jumper!"

Hermione giggled.

"Bye!" she and Ron called happily as the carriages passed through the castle gates, leaving Harry behind.

Harry stopped at the gates, waving back at his two friends. He wondered if the next time he saw them, he'd be introducing them to his parents once again.

***

One week later...

Sirius sat on the living-room floor of his home in Privet Lawns, trying hard to keep his patience as he conversed with the Minister of Magic, whose head was sitting in the fire, looking wide-awake and furious.

"Minister, I'm telling you," Sirius explained, "It's gone. Vanished. Not a trace of it anywhere in the house."

"Are you certain you checked all the vaults?"

"Yes. A dozen times, at least. It's not there."

"Mr Black," Algie Longbottom said, with a trace of exasperation creeping into his voice, "it was there three weeks ago. You told me yourself. How can it have just vanished?"

"I don't know. I can't explain it."

"Did you question the boy?"

"Draco?"

The minister nodded.

Sirius didn't reply at once. He was a little confused that the Minister of Magic, a man supposedly well versed in the law, was asking him if he had interrogated a sixteen year old boy. Surely that was illegal. Finally Sirius cleared his throat. "No, Minister. I was under the impression that it was illegal to interrogate a minor."

Algie Longbottom glared at him. "I never said anything about interrogating him. Just go to the boy and ask him where he's hidden his father's money. Simple as that. I'm sure you can manage it, considering your past dealings with him."

Sirius sighed deeply. The last time he had spoken to Draco Malfoy was on a pier at Azkaban. Draco had confided in him, trusted him enough to talk about his future. But for that conversation, Draco would have become a Death Eater, and Sirius, Arabella, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Snape would now be dead. Draco had saved all their lives, returning them safely to Hogwarts via a Portkey. Sirius was reluctant to betray the boy he owed his life to. "Minister, is there really any point in hassling the kid? I mean, he couldn't possibly have hidden it. Albus assures me Draco hasn't left the school recently."

"He could have had outside help. I want you to go to Hogwarts today, and ask him about it-"

"Minister, perhaps it would be better if-"

"Let me finish, Mr Black. You are to ask him where he's hidden it. If he refuses to tell, or if he feigns ignorance, threaten him with imprisonment. I'm sure I can arrange it if need be. The little worm deserves a bit of a fright."

"He's just a child."

The minister eyed him severely. "Don't let yourself be fooled, Black. These Malfoys are trouble. That kid is going to turn out just like his father, mark my words. We have to stamp him down now, while we still can."

Sirius opened his mouth to protest, but changed his mind. He didn't know Draco Malfoy very well, but the boy had saved his life once, along with the lives of almost everyone he cared about. Harry seemed to think he was evil, but Sirius preferred to think that anyone could redeem themself. Draco was just a child, after all. There was no telling how he'd turn out.

"Minister, I was going to suggest talking to the servants before taking any action with the boy. It might not be necessary to-"

"Mr Black, I gave you your orders. You are to question Draco Malfoy today. And need I point out that you were the last and only person seen in Malfoy Manor before the gold disappeared? It doesn't look good, I can tell you. Some would say it looks downright suspicious. I can only protect you so far. Good day to you."

The face vanished from the flames, and Sirius sat back, astonished.

***

The floor of the fifth year Gryffindor boy's dormitory was littered with pieces of parchment, open bottles, and squashed bits of root. In the centre, sitting on a waist-high pedestal was Harry's standard size two pewter cauldron, and nearby, sitting on the floor and cursing over a too-small pestle and mortar, was Harry himself.

Posing by the gothic window, dressed in his finest black robes, and twirling his wand around in his fingers like a baton, was Draco Malfoy. He was singing, "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer," to himself over and over, just because he didn't know all the words, and because he knew it was driving Harry mad.

Harry could feel the other boy's eyes boring into the back of his skull as he worked, even as the haunting tones of, "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer," continued to grate on his ears. It was unnerving to say the least. He kept expecting to feel the cool, sharp tip of a wand against his neck at any moment, but surprisingly it never came.

As he ground up the last of the smelly roots they had collected for the potion, the melody finally stopped and he heard Malfoy ask, "Are you done yet, Potter? You've been at it all morning. I can't believe you make grinding roots look so complicated. But then again, this is you we're talking about."

"I'm finished now," Harry replied with forced calm. "I'd like to see you sit and inhale this stuff for three hours. The least you can do is tell me what the hell it's for."

"I wouldn't want to confuse you, Potter."

"Haha," Harry said flatly. "Come on, Malfoy. For all I know, you could be making me do this just for the cheap thrill of it. What's it really for?"

"It's to go into an Enriching Potion for Weasley, since his family lost their entire fortune. Two Knuts, they lost, wasn't it?"

Harry turned around to glare at the other boy. Malfoy was such a pain. Here they were, alone, forced to work together for at least a fortnight, and Malfoy insisted on making things difficult. It was so typical.

Deliberately ignoring the other boy's last comment, Harry picked up his bowl of crushed roots. "What do you want me to do with these?" he asked, idly thinking of the many uses that sprang immediately to mind.

Malfoy pointed to the small cauldron sitting in the centre of the room.

Harry poured the roots in on top of the other ingredients, and waited. He knew he'd have to ask Malfoy what to do next, but was trying to put if off as long as possible. Malfoy never offered information. Everything Harry wanted to know, he had to ask, and it was getting very annoying.

He was spared from having to speak up, however, as Malfoy himself cast a distraction, crossing the room to Ron's bed, and tearing down one of the many pictures of the Chudley Canons from the wall. He held it in his hands and looked down at it, shaking his head in mock reproach. "What is it about Weasley?" he asked. "Everything about him is inferior, even the one thing in his miserable little life he can change: his favourite Quidditch team. The Chudley Cannons! It's pathetic."

Harry stood up and snatched the picture off him. "Leave Ron's stuff alone, Malfoy, or we can filthy up your dormitory instead. I'm sure I'd love to look through Goyle's things, and see his collection of women's underwear."

"Yes, that would be right up your alley, wouldn't it, Potter?" Malfoy deadpanned, moving on to Neville's bed. "Who sleeps here?" he asked, grimacing at the heap of empty Chocolate Frog wrappers lying on the floor next to it.

"Neville."

"Oh yes, Longbottom, of course. Greedy little pig, isn't he?"

Harry didn't answer, but began picking up the bits of root and parchment littering the area he had been working in.

"And this is Finnegan's bed," Malfoy observed, moving on.

Harry stared at him. "How did you know that was Seamus' bed?"

"Oh, same way you know about Goyle's collection of women's underwear, I suppose," he replied, smiling darkly.

"You've been in here before!" Harry exclaimed, horrified. "When?"

Draco merely looked at him before moving on to the next bed. "And this is yours, isn't it, Potter? Hmmm. I suppose Weasley made you put up these stupid pictures of his Quidditch team. Shall I tear them down for you?"

"No!" Harry exclaimed, before forcing himself to calm down. "Just get the hell away from my stuff, Malfoy! Get over here!"

Obediently, and looking completely nonplussed, Draco moved back to the centre of the room. He looked down into the cauldron and winced at the smell. "Yuck! Smells just like Weasley's pillow."

"Cut it out," Harry snapped.

"I'm just trying to lighten the mood a bit, Potter. I mean, I do have to work with you for the next two weeks."

"Don't remind me. And you're not lightening the mood. You're deliberately trying to provoke me."

Draco smiled serenely. "I didn't say I was lightening it for you, Potter. From where I'm standing you've got the sweetest part of the deal. You get to spend time with me. I, on the other hand-"

"Oh, shut up."

"Fine, then," Draco snapped, sitting down petulantly on the end of Harry's bed. The action reminded Harry very much of one of the few occasions when he had seen a spoiled Dudley Dursley being reprimanded by his parents. Draco glared at him. "But I still say it smells like Weasley's pillow."

Harry groaned, and reminded himself that he had known all along that resurrecting his parents would be a long and arduous undertaking.

***

Two days later...

Ginny put down the book she had been reading and glanced around the deserted Hogwarts Library. It was eerily quiet in the old, musty room, with most of the students having gone home a few days earlier. Even Madam Pince was absent, off on some errand or other. Since the start of the school holidays, only an occasional Ravenclaw student had been in to break up the dead silence with the gentle flutter of pages turning or with the pleasant echo of tough leather volumes being stacked on wooden desks.

Now, however, Ginny found herself alone, and it was making her feel paranoid. No matter how hard she tried to immerse herself in the text on Locking Charms, she kept being distracted by a feeling of being watched. The sensation was getting stronger than ever, and she found herself regretting the absence of the many students that would normally be sitting around chatting and breaking her concentration. Anything would have been better than the creepy feeling of being watched from the shadows. And was it her imagination, or had the air suddenly become much cooler?

Shuddering, she tried to turn her attention back to the book in front of her, but her mind refused to focus. Something within her just hadn't felt right lately. The strange fits of coldness, the dreams about Harry, in which she found herself in a panic for his safety, the paranoia she was feeling now... Somehow it all seemed to be connected. Ultimately, every one of her thoughts came back to Harry, every single thread she pursued involved him, but what he had to do with her paranoia and general insanity was anyone's guess. She just couldn't understand it.

It would have been nice to talk to someone about it. In years past, she would have turned to Percy. He had always understood her much better than Fred and George, or even Ron, ever could. He had always given her sensible, practical advice rather than meaningless sympathy, and that was something she missed terribly. Now, however, he was dead, and she couldn't turn to Ron or Hermione either, since they were at home. Fred and George were gone too. So there was absolutely no one she could turn to for advice.

Of course, Harry would have been the ideal person to talk to, but he had made it quite clear that he wanted to be left alone. He hadn't said a word to her since the beginning of the Christmas holidays, even though they were the only two people staying in Gryffindor Tower and he looked utterly miserable.

It would have been nice simply to chat to him. She was curious to know why he wasn't spending any more time in the library. Even with the lock on the Restricted Section, there was no reason why he couldn't continue his research in the General Section. He had seemed so focused, so dedicated to bringing back his parents that she couldn't understand why he suddenly seemed to have given up. And she missed not being able to watch him while working in the library. It was inspiring to see him work so hard for something he believed in.

If only he'd been more willing to talk to her, she could have cheered him up too. She had already made progress on finding out about the lock on the Restricted Section, and was certain that she was close to finding out how to remove it. Together, she and Harry could succeed much sooner. But Harry didn't want to speak to her, didn't want to even acknowledge her existence. He didn't want her help, and certainly didn't want to help her. It hurt.

She tried to tell herself that he was suffering, far more than she was, and that was why he wanted to be alone. He had been forced to give up all hope of saving his parents, his exams were fast approaching, he was worried about the dangers of his godfather's profession, his best friend's little sister had a crush on him... No wonder he was upset. And to make matters worse, he had been forced to endure Professor Trelawney's impressive impersonation of his dead mother. Yes, Harry was definitely worse off than she was. It would be selfish to add to his troubles.

And so she was alone, with nobody to turn to, and the walls of the library were feeling oppressive and all too watchful. She looked around again. Still alone. Shivering in the coolness of the room, she hugged her cardigan tighter around her shoulders, and looked down at her book. She had to be close to a solution. There were only so many Locking Charms, after all.

A gust of icy air blew past her, and she yelped softly in dismay as the pages turned. Her hands flew up to stop them, but halted in mid-air as suspicion crept over her. Instead, she let the pages turn, and watched in fascination as they continued to flick over, one after another. She swallowed hard at the realisation that the pages were moving of their own volition; there was no longer any draft in the room at all. The turning finally stopped, and she looked down, and read, "The Portal Charm. The Simple Solution to Any Locked Door. Why struggle with complicated locks, when you can create a new, unlocked door? By skilled plumber and handyman Burgle R. Kleptes."

Ginny smiled and whispered, "Thank you."

***

"Ah, Sirius, do come in," Dumbledore said, shaking hands with the other man. "I'm glad you're here. Harry has been behaving most strangely." He gestured to the vacant seat before his desk, and moved around to sit down. "Please have a seat. Yes, as I was saying, I think perhaps it would be a good idea for you to speak with your godson. You might even be able to persuade him to go home for the Christmas. It really would do him a world of good to get away from the school for awhile."

Sirius nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, I was hoping he would change his mind about that. But what do you mean when you see he's been behaving strangely? More strangely than usual, then?"

A sad smile passed over the old headmaster's face. "I'm afraid so. He has not been back to the library since we charmed the Restricted Section. Now, I took that as a positive sign," Dumbledore said, sighing, "But recently, I have begun to have some other misgivings. It would appear that he is spending a considerable amount of time in the Slytherin dungeons, I suspect with Draco Malfoy. It may be that they have simply overcome their past dislike for one another and are now friends-"

"Pah!" Sirius interjected. "As if!"

"Yes, quite. Or the Malfoy boy is assisting him in his efforts to resurrect Lily and James, no doubt for some considerable price. The latter does seem more likely."

"Damn. I'll talk to him, Albus. Actually, I'll talk to Draco too, since he's the reason I came here in the first place."

Albus observed him curiously. "Oh?"

"I have to ask him some questions about his father's money," Sirius explained. "It would appear that what's left of it has mysteriously vanished from the manor's vaults."

"How mysterious," Albus remarked dryly.

"Yes, and if I don't find it, Algie Longbottom is going to implicate me in its theft."

Dumbledore eyed him seriously. "Well, Sirius, I can't say that I know where the money is, but I will tell you this: as clever as the Malfoy boy is, and as determined as I'm sure he was to hide it, there's no way he would have been capable of a Concealment Charm powerful enough to get past the Ministry's watch on the place. He didn't do it."

"Then who did?" Sirius asked, concerned.

Dumbledore shook his head, but gave no reply.

***

It only took a moment for Ginny to charm the wall separating the main section of the Hogwarts Library from the adjoining Restricted Section, creating a new door. The absence of any onlookers made the job a lot easier, but just to be on the safe side, she cast as Invisibility Spell over the new entrance. Instantly it vanished from sight, leaving the original, uninteresting wall in its place.

Delighted, she clapped her hands together and ran to gather her books, thinking only of finding Harry and telling him the good news, but then, just as she was stuffing the last of her books into her satchel, another thought occurred to her. If she showed Harry the new entrance, it was likely that he would just thank her, use it, and then go back to ignoring her again. But if she used it herself, and discovered how to resurrect his parents, then he would love her for the rest of his life. It would be the greatest gift she could possibly give him. To see his face light up with joy, and to know that she was the cause of that joy, would be like a dream come true.

She was certain she could do it. How hard could it be? And if she succeeded... Harry would take her seriously, respect her as much as he respected Hermione. He would stop thinking of her as a silly, shy, little girl. He would actually fall in love with her, just as she had always dreamed.

In that instant, she made up her mind, and passed through the invisible door to the Restricted Section. A gust of cold air followed her.

***

It was with a deep sense of foreboding that Sirius left Professor Dumbledore's office later that afternoon and went in search of Draco Malfoy. The headmaster's thoughtful silence throughout their conversation, and more particularly his calculated refusal to discuss who he suspected was responsible for the disappearance of the Malfoy fortune, had struck him as deeply ominous. Dumbledore knew far more than he was revealing, and Sirius suspected that somewhere deep in the old man's mind, a connection was forming between the disappearance of the gold and Harry's new friendship with Draco.

Sirius knew that it wasn't unusual for Dumbledore to keep his cards close to his chest, and whenever he did, it was generally for the right reasons. Nevertheless, it was a deeply worrying sign, especially if Harry was involved.

Looking down at the entrance to the Slytherin dungeons, Sirius sighed and quickened his step. Hopefully the Malfoy boy would be willing to talk.

***

Alone in Gryffindor Tower, Harry took advantage of the silence and the privacy to begin work on some of the more technical aspects of the Necromancy Spell. A date had to be set, and that was easier said than done. There were astronomical considerations to be taken into account (a new moon was vital), and certain planetary configurations were thought to make for a more powerful spell. If he could find a day when Jupiter and Mars would be in line with the Earth and the sun, then his chances of success would increase markedly, or so Malfoy insisted.

Harry spread his star charts out over his bed, and began pouring over the dates. The nearest new moon was in ten days, on January second, but the planets would not be configured favourably on that day. Disappointed, Harry moved on to check the next new moon, just over a month away. Again, the planets weren't favourable. He moved on to the next...

***

The corridor to the Slytherin common room terminated in a plain, stone wall, which Sirius fondly remembered from his own days as a young student at Hogwarts. It seemed a very long time since he had last crept down to the dungeons with James and Remus, and sometimes Peter too, looking for ways to sneak inside or boobytrap the entrance. Smiling softly at the happy memories, he ran his fingers along the familiar brickwork, feeling for a long, arrow-shaped crack. His fingers rested upon it almost immediately, and he felt inside. A single piece of antler, still smooth, was lodged inside. Sirius tickled it lightly, and the door to the Slytherin common room opened before him. Ah, he thought, happy memories, and he entered, ignoring the look of shock on Draco Malfoy's face.

***

Harry smiled wistfully to himself. On the fourth of April he would have his parents back. It was the perfect day to attempt the spell: there would be a new moon, plus all nine planets would be in alignment with the sun... It was even better than he could have hoped for. It was a long wait, but the time in between would be used constructively. He would use it to make sure than everything would be perfect for the big day. Nothing would go wrong.

Harry wiped back the tear that crept from the corner of his eye, and began collecting the various star charts and books laid out before him. His hands stopped on a very familiar and much used-looking piece of parchment, The Marauder's Map. Sirius had owled it back to him before the holidays, along with his Pensieve. By force of recent habit, his eyes were drawn to the Slytherin dungeons, and he immediately saw that something was wrong. Instead of just the one name he had become used to seeing in that portion of the castle, there were two. Sirius was in the dungeons with Draco.

Cold fear settled around Harry's heart. If Sirius was talking to Draco, then he must have found out about their deal, or at least begun to suspect something. If he found out, he would ruin everything. In a panic, Harry dropped the Marauder's Map onto the floor, grabbed his Invisibility Cloak from his chest, and ran from the room. He had to hear their conversation, he had to find a way to stop Draco from telling Sirius too much.

***

Ginny moved silently between the long rows of shelving that held the ancient texts of the Restricted Section. She had never been in this part of the Hogwarts Library before, and was struck by the antique beauty of its rich mahogany flooring and by the air of vague history that hung about its walls. She supposed it was one of the oldest parts of the castle. Some of the books lining the shelves were probably studied by Hogwarts' earliest students, perhaps even by the founders themselves. The very thought thrilled her, and she leaned forward for a closer examination.

Some of the books looked terrifying, with horrifying and grizzly images on their covers. Others were simple, unassuming in appearance, reminding her painfully of Tom Riddle's diary. It would have come of no surprise to her to come across that book on the shelves in front of her, some of which were entirely devoted to the Dark Arts. She supposed Professor Snape would have felt right at home in the Restricted Section.

The books were arranged alphabetically by title, which she supposed would make her task somewhat easier. She moved along the shelving until she reached the section of books beginning with the letter N. Gently she drew her finger along the spines of the books, letting her eyes scan the titles. It didn't take her very long to come across the first book on necromancy, entitled, "Necromancy, A History of Resurrection"," but that didn't sound entirely helpful. She needed practical instructions, not a longwinded discussion. She moved on. The next few books also appeared useless.

She reached the end of the shelf and looked around to see where the section continued. The books beginning with the letter N resumed on the bottom shelf behind her, but she could hardly make out the titles with the shelf being so close to the dark flooring. Crouching down low, she moved as near as she could to the books. She had to angle her head to make out the print. "Necromancy, Is it Ethical?" appeared unhelpful, as did, "Necromancy in the Dark Ages."

An unexpected breath of cold air on her neck made her stiffen suddenly. Afraid to look up, she stayed perfectly still, hoping it was just her imagination. Nothing happened. Relaxing slightly, she loosened the muscles in her shoulders and released the breath she'd been holding. For a moment, she had felt like someone had been standing right behind her, leaning down over her, breathing on her neck. She let her eyes close for a moment and just concentrated on breathing. This was getting old. For almost a month now she'd been having these odd fits of paranoia. But there was nothing there, she told herself. It was all in her head.

Ginny opened her eyes and continued her examination of the books. She wasn't going to look behind her. There was never anything there, so there was no point. She just had to focus on the job at hand, think of the look on Harry's face when she solved all his problems for him. Think of Harry...

There it was again.

"Who's there?" Ginny whispered uncertainly. "This isn't funny."

The air around her suddenly became icy cold. Moving stiffly, both from fear and the chill, Ginny forced herself to stand up straight and turn around, and face the red-haired woman who was standing right behind her.

Lily Potter extended her hand, and said, "Oh, thank you. I thought you'd never see me. Please, if you care about Harry, I need your help..."

***

A/N: There'll be more soon, I promise J Now please don't forget to review!

Pleiades