The Greatest Kind of Magic

20. Slytherin Bugged

"Did you hear?"

"I can't believe it!"

"Well, it's about time, isn't it? After Hogsmeade... and Diagon Alley..."

"Serve them right, the bastards. They should all get the Dementor's Kiss, if you ask me..."

"Only the dementors are on their side..."

"Well, we showed them, didn't we?"

The DA had never had a party before. But today, they felt they truly had something to celebrate. The Ministry had won its first decisive victory since the second rise of Voldemort - all thanks to Dumbledore's Army.

"Listen, listen to this," said Ron, reading from Hermione's Daily Prophet. "The Ministry was informed of the upcoming raid by spies within the Death Eater ranks. Further reports allowed the Aurors to piece together exactly how and when the Death Eaters would attack, and to plan the counterstrike. Many are still amazed by the level of information the Aurors were able to obtain. The Ministry should be congratulated on the excellence of their Intelligence Department..."

"Intelligence Department, that's a good one," said Ernie Macmillan. "Bragging Malfoy Department, more like."

"I still can't believe this worked!" said Dean Thomas, shaking his head. "I mean, you wouldn't think Malfoy would know so much, would you?"

"And you wouldn't think he'd go telling it to all the other Slytherins," added Ron. "Just goes to show they're all in on it."

Hermione frowned, but didn't say anything. Harry guessed what was going through her mind: she was thinking Ron was wrong, even though this time the evidence really was on his side.

Harry privately agreed with Ron, but knew better than to open his mouth. Hermione had been edgy all day. In fact, Harry thought now that she'd been edgy for all of the past two months, worrying constantly about the Extendable Ear in the Slytherin common room being discovered, or about missing some vital piece of information and leading the Order astray. She was extremely sceptical about the things Malfoy told the Slytherins, worrying that he was either making it up, or that the information was wrong in the first place. Harry had thought that this first victory - proof that everything they heard was accurate - would put her fears to rest. But she seemed more anxious than ever.

They'd planted the bug soon after the term's first DA meeting. Harry had pulled the short straw and done the deed - sneaking into the Slytherin common room in his Invisibility Cloak and planting the tiny Extendable Ear under a painting of Salazar Slytherin. Though he'd never admit it, he had secretly enjoyed the mission. It had an aura of thrilling adventure reminiscent of Harry's first three years at Hogwarts. Though the adventures he'd had in those days had often been dangerous and terrifying, they hadn't carried the gravity that had descended over everything after Voldemort's return. Sneaking around in his Invisibility Cloak to spy on Slytherins, however, seemed to bring back some of that almost innocent excitement. Harry only wished Ron and Hermione had been able to share it.

Hermione had wanted to make sure that someone was listening to the Ear every hour of the day. That, however, quickly proved to be impossible. During lessons, no one was available to listen. Late at night, no one was willing. Hermione couldn't force people to stay up all night listening to a silent common room. A couple of people volunteered, but it was obvious they couldn't do it every night, and there simply weren't enough volunteers to organise a "graveyard shift". Hermione herself kept an all-night vigil several times, as did Harry and Ron and the other volunteers. That was enough to figure out that most of the Slytherins went to bed by eleven, and that none got up before seven in the morning. Hermione made the roster from six in the morning to midnight, with gaps during classes. The gaps bothered her, but there was nothing she could do.

To Harry, Hermione's fears about the bug being discovered seemed groundless. After all, what were the chances that anyone would connect the Ministry "spies" with students at Hogwarts? How could anyone even consider the possibility that the information wasn't coming from Aurors spying on Death Eaters, but from the DA spying on Slytherins?

Ron agreed with Harry. "They'll never figure it out," he said with satisfaction. "The Slytherins haven't got a clue someone could be listening to them. I never thought Malfoy was this thick."

"They will figure it out," Hermione said grimly. "They're not stupid, Ron. They'll figure it out eventually."

"Look, Hermione," Harry told her, trying not feel so annoyed at her for spoiling the party atmosphere. "Even if the Slytherins find the bug, what's the worst that can happen? I mean, we'll know they found the thing, because we're always listening. And it's not like we can get expelled - I mean, think of what the Slytherins did to Liam. And they're all still here."

"Oh, yes," Hermione said acidly. "They're still here. Scrubbing toilets every night for the rest of the term. If you want to join them, Harry, you're welcome to it."

One of the first things the DA learned through the Extendable Ears was how the Slytherins had been punished for their attack on Liam. Harry grinned as he thought of Malfoy scrubbing toilets on a house-elf's orders. But he knew Hermione had something more on her mind.

"The Slytherins are cunning, that's their trait," she said. "They can discover the bug and manage to hide that from us. Then they can feed us false information, or worse, plant a bug on us."

Ron shook his head. "I don't get it, Hermione. You were all for bugging the Slytherins. It was your idea!" He hesitated before adding, "It was a good idea."

Hermione relaxed a little, and a smile touched her lips. "Thanks, Ron." She sighed. "It was the best I could come up with."

"Right," said Ron. "So why are you sitting here moping when it actually worked?"

Hermione sighed. "I'm not moping, Ron. I'm worrying. There are so many things that can go wrong."

"But they didn't go wrong," Harry argued. "Like Ron said - it worked. Whatever happens now, there are nine more Death Eaters in Azkaban because of us!"

Hermione just shook her head and went over to the bookshelves. Harry and Ron groaned, but followed her, looking wistfully towards the other end of the room, where Liam was fiddling with his CD player. The Room of Requirement was set up as it would be for a DA meeting: a low stage with bookshelves at one end, and a clear space in the centre of the room, as a sort of practice arena.

Hermione had attempted to start a serious meeting, but the rest of the DA only wanted to celebrate. Harry thought this might be another reason why Hermione was so irritable, though she did seem genuinely worried about something.

Several people cheered when music began to play, and several more cheered when a seventh-year came into the room with a half-full bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey. "Swiped it from Filch's office," the boy announced with a grin, taking a swig and passing the bottle to Ernie Macmillan.

The only person not celebrating was Hermione. She ignored all Harry's and Ron's attempts to make her relax, and started flipping through Defense books, muttering something about wards under her breath.

It worked, Harry thought. It worked, and nothing went wrong.

But watching Hermione, Harry couldn't quite share in everyone else's excitement. He looked over at Ron, and knew that he felt the same way. The two exchanged a knowing glace, both thinking the exact same thing.

Nothing went wrong. So why does Hermione look so worried?

***

"Spies," hissed Malfoy through clenched teeth. "Spies within the Death Eater ranks." He waved the newspaper angrily. "Like any Ministry spy could ever get that close! The Ministry is incompetent! They're all as stupid as Fudge himself - how could they ever find out about this?" He tossed the paper into the fire.

Standing against the wall, a little apart from the other Slytherins, Bauer nudged Jeremy and they both grinned. They suppressed their grins quickly, knowing it wasn't a good idea to show satisfaction at Malfoy's rage - but there was something truly comical about his disheveled hair, his flushed face and his open disbelief that the Azkaban raid had failed. He'd been going on about it for weeks, bragging about how much he knew, showing off by telling everyone all the details. If the raid had succeeded, his father would now be free, and Malfoy would have an even stronger hold on all the other Slytherins.

Instead, he was reduced to an almost-gibbering rage.

"Any second now, his head will explode," said Bauer quietly. "Pop!"

Jeremy had to clap a hand over his mouth and turn to the wall until his laughing fit passed. He pretended he was coughing, and Bauer slapped him on the back to play along.

"Wish it would explode," Jeremy whispered once he'd got himself under control. "Then we'd be rid of him."

Pansy Parkinson, who was standing nearby, turned around and glared at them. "What are you two whispering about?"

Bauer sneered. "None of you business, Parkinson." He added under his breath: "Nosy cow."

Apparently, Pansy heard, because her eyes narrowed furiously. "It is my business, Bauer," she said coldly, "because I don't reckon everyone in this house is exactly trustworthy. I'm sure Draco would want to know if anyone's keeping secrets from the rest of us!"

Bauer held out his hands, the picture of innocence. "No secrets here, Parkinson. Leighton and I were just wondering how Malfoy knew so much about this raid, if it's so top-secret."

Bauer said the last part a little too loud. In a flash, Malfoy was standing in front of them, his face even angrier than before. "My family," he said slowly, staring at Bauer threateningly, "are among the highest ranks of the Death Eaters. Of course they know everything that goes on. The Dark Lord trusts us."

And you can't keep your mouth shut, Jeremy thought. Bet they don't know you blab all their secrets to our entire house.

Bauer was obviously thinking the same thing, because he said, his voice still one of exaggerated innocence, "But you tell all of us. I mean... if it's so secret, should you really be telling everyone in Slytherin?"

"Are you suggesting," said Malfoy in a voice laden with menace, "that someone in this room betrayed us?"

Jeremy knew then that Bauer had made a mistake. A moment ago, the other Slytherins had been watching Bauer with a sort of amused admiration - he was still the only one in the entire house who dared to show Malfoy open disrespect. But when that disrespect cast suspicion on the rest of them, admiration quickly turned to hostility.

"You'd better watch your mouth, Bauer," hissed Blaise Zabini.

"That's not what I meant," said Bauer quickly. "I'm just saying something might've slipped. I mean, if someone was spying on us - well, Malfoy told us all the details."

"Oh yes, Bauer," said Malfoy quietly. "I told you all the details." He looked around at all his housemates with an almost pleasant expression. "I happen to think everyone in this room is trustworthy." He looked at Bauer and his face darkened again. "But it could be I made a mistake."

Jeremy knew exactly where this was going. Bauer's going to cop the blame.

Bauer - clever, quick-witted Bauer - had slipped. Unable to resist the temptation to gloat over Malfoy's disappointment, he'd gone too far. Malfoy wasn't stupid - Jeremy couldn't help being impressed at how quickly he'd turned the tables on Bauer. Jeremy was reminded that Malfoy's power over the others came from more than his connections, more than his threats. Malfoy's ability to manipulate those around him made him more dangerous than his Death Eater family ever could.

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Bauer, not quite managing to sound undaunted. "If you're suggesting I gave you away..." - he laughed, again not-quite-nonchalant - "...you're mental. I wasn't here half the time - I didn't hear most of the stuff you said. I always get back late from detention."

Jeremy slowly reached into his pocket, feeling for his wand. Whatever Bauer said, Jeremy was starting to see him as a friend. Or an ally, at least. Jeremy and Bauer often found themselves working together in detention. The house-elves didn't seem to have any orders to stop them talking to each other, so they were often joking and laughing as they prepared food or washed dishes or scrubbed toilets. When the work wasn't hard, they lingered in detention, because it was much more enjoyable than sitting around in the cold Slytherin common room, listening to Malfoy bragging.

"Oh, yes," Malfoy said. "You do get back late. I wonder why that is, Bauer? Could it be that you like cleaning toilets so much, you can't bring yourself to stop at curfew?" Behind him, the ever-present Crabbe and Goyle guffawed dutifully.

Jeremy's fingers closed around his wand.

Bauer had once saved Jeremy from Malfoy. Now Bauer had put himself on the line, and Jeremy owed him. He had no doubt that Malfoy could, and would do something terrible, unless someone stepped in on Bauer's side. Even - Jeremy suppressed a shudder - the Grady treatment.

"Or could it be," Malfoy continued, all traces of humour abandoned, "that you use that time to go chat to your Mudblood friends? Could it be..." - his voice dropped to a menacing whisper - "that you use that time to make your report to Dumbledore?"

This is absurd, Jeremy thought, though he tightened his grip on his wand. Surely no one is going to buy this?

But he knew in his heart that they would, or at least pretend to. It didn't matter to them if the accusations were real - all that mattered was that it wasn't their life on the line. It wasn't them who would be beaten and burned.

Bauer reached this conclusion a second faster.

"Expelliarmus!" he bellowed, and Malfoy's wand was in the air. Suddenly, the Slytherins were scrabbling around frantically, some trying to grab Malfoy's wand, others reaching for their own, and still others trying desperately to get away before they got caught in the crossfire. Bauer shouted another curse, which hit Goyle in the chest. Jeremy saw Goyle stumble, but never knew what he'd been hit with, because at that moment, Crabbe shouted, "Reducto!" and Jeremy barely managed to duck in time.

The curse sailed over his head and hit the wall behind him. Jeremy felt a sting as a small shard of stone buried itself in the back of his neck. He sucked in a breath of air, and immediately began to cough, choking on the dust from the damaged wall.

Trying not to think what that curse would've done to his head, Jeremy scrambled to his feet, then fell to his knees again when he realized that he'd dropped his wand. The floor was littered with bits of stone, wood chips and scraps of canvas - Jeremy realised that Crabbe must've hit the portrait of Salazar Slytherin. He felt among the debris, hoping against hope that his wand was undamaged.

His fingers closed around something small and round.

Jeremy picked it up without thinking. It was a tiny red button, barely larger than a thumbnail. What drew Jeremy's attention was that it was obviously magical - he could feel its power as a tingle in his fingertips. Jeremy knew that this object didn't belong - clearly it wasn't a part of the damaged wall or the destroyed painting. Something told Jeremy that it was important, and he tried to ignore the noise of the fight to figure out what the object might be. He peered at it closely, and saw a tiny logo printed on its surface - three "W"s with curly arms twisted around each other.

Jeremy got to his feet.

Crabbe and Goyle were lying on the floor - Crabbe clearly unconscious, Goyle the victim of a full body bind. Malfoy and Bauer were locked together, ripping in with their fists and shoes, their wands forgotten. The rest of the house was standing against the walls, watching the fight with open mouths.

"Hit him, Draco!" squealed Pansy Parkinson from the sidelines.

Jeremy cleared his throat. "Malfoy," he said, realising even as the name came out that it wouldn't be heard. "Malfoy!" he repeated, shouting.

This time, Malfoy seemed to hear. He shoved Bauer hard, and the other boy stumbled backwards. Before he could throw another punch, Malfoy had turned on Jeremy. "You're next, Leighton," he said, though he didn't seem to be in any mood to attack. His nose was bleeding profusely.

"Yeah, probably," Jeremy said, for once not really caring what Malfoy would do. It was clear now that the other Slytherins would rather stand by and watch than join in the fight. Malfoy was fighting alone.

Jeremy held out the strange object he'd found on the floor. "Do what you want, Malfoy. But you'd better take a look at this."

***

Liam couldn't help being surprised at how quickly the DA took to his Muggle music. He had put on some old CDs, classic songs that Sarah's parents used to play when he was at her house. Parvati and Lavender had dragged a couple of boys into the centre of the room to dance. Other people had quickly joined in, and the party was now in full swing. Liam guessed that a lot of the Muggle-borns had heard their parents playing these songs, too.

The songs gave Liam an odd sense of nostalgia, because they reminded him of the parties he'd had back at Stonewall, when Sarah would hijack the CD player and force everyone to dance to the "golden oldies", stomping around the living room in their Doc Martens. Davey would endure this like a martyr, while Liam usually sat on the couch, chatting with Jessie. He'd never been much into dancing, until Ginny. Even now, he was reluctant to dance in front of all these people, and Ginny seemed the same. They sat together on the stage, not really talking, just watching the people dancing.

Ginny nudged Liam and gestured towards the DA's bookshelves. Liam looked over to see Hermione flipping through a heavy volume, while Harry and Ron sat nearby, looking bored.

"Shall we go cheer them up?" Ginny asked.

Liam grinned. "Bet you can't make Hermione dance," he said.

"You're on," said Ginny. "Though it's Ron and Harry who are the real challenge."

They walked over to the glum trio. "Who died?" asked Ginny when Ron looked up.

"Hermione's sense of humour," said Ron. "She's been flipping through books and predicting doom all evening."

Hermione turned around and glared at him. "Well, someone has to think about what'll happen next. In case you haven't realised, we haven't won the war yet."

Liam's heart sank. The illusion of somehow being back to his old life evaporated. This was no party in Sarah's lounge room - it was a party celebrating a small victory in a very big war.

Hermione's words seemed to have the same effect on Ron and Ginny, like a slap in the face with a cold fish. But it was Harry who drew Liam's attention. Until that moment, he'd looked simply bored. Now he seemed to slump in his chair, for a moment looking so tired that Liam thought he'd collapse there and then. It passed in an instant, but Liam knew he hadn't imagined it. He felt a wave of sympathy towards Harry, who Liam knew had spent more time listening to the Extendable Ear than anyone else, who had worked so hard to teach everyone in the DA new hexes and spells, who had lost his family just a couple of months ago. Liam didn't know everything that went on in Harry's life, but he knew enough to guess that it hadn't been easy. It was unfair of Hermione not to let him enjoy even this small break.

Ron seemed to notice Harry's reaction, too. He turned on Hermione fiercely. "Hermione, for once can you just relax? We can go back to worrying tomorrow - give us a break!"

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, and then closed it. She looked at Harry and Ron, and her face softened. She sighed and closed the book. "You're right," she said quietly. "I'm sorry."

Liam wished he could do something to make them all feel better, to forget about the war if only for the evening. He himself had forgotten it until Hermione had reminded him, and it seemed so unfair that they couldn't enjoy themselves, that they couldn't have a party that was just fun and carefree and celebrating nothing more momentous than somebody's parents going on holiday.

"I'm with Ron," he said. "Can we just... not think about it tonight. We've earned it - well, you lot have earned it. I mean, you three have been doing most of the work."

"Exactly," said Ginny. "Come on, Hermione, let's dance. You can't read all the time, you'll go bonkers!" She grabbed Hermione's hand and tugged her towards the dance floor.

"That's right," said Ron. "Go on, Hermione."

Hermione hesitated, looking at the book in her hands, and then turning to look at the people dancing.

"We'll have a serious meeting tomorrow," said Ron. "Right, Harry?"

Harry didn't seem to hear. He looked distracted, preoccupied. But after a few seconds, he seemed to shake himself. He looked up and nodded, a not-quite-natural smile on his face. "Yeah. Yeah, we will. We should celebrate." His smile became a little more genuine. "You can go back to predicting doom tomorrow, Hermione."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but she seemed to have made up her mind. "All right, you win." She hesitated, then a wicked smile spread over her face. "But you two have to dance with me."

Ron blanched and shook his head furiously. "Not me. No way."

Harry, looking almost as horrified as Ron, added, "You go on, Hermione. We'll just sit here and..."

"Oh no, you don't," said Hermione and grabbed then each by the hand. Laughing, Ginny grabbed Ron's free arm, while Liam grabbed Harry's, and together, they hauled the reluctant boys to their feet. Then they frog-marched them to the dance floor, where they shuffled around awkwardly for a few minutes, before they got into the spirit of things and stopped feeling self-conscious.

Liam and Ginny smiled at each other, both feeling much better than they had a few minutes ago. They danced now with the others, and again Liam remembered the carefree days at Stonewall High. He couldn't quite make himself forget reality, forget the war, forget that what they were celebrating was just a small victory in a year of devastating defeats. But he did enjoy himself, and he knew that Ginny did as well. Afterwards, when they sat down to rest, he thought that perhaps forgetting the war wasn't what he or anyone else needed to do. Having fun, despite the war, despite the bad stuff that's happened - that's the real trick. If we can do that, then there's always hope. If we can do that, things aren't all that bad.

***

Harry waited until Hermione was dancing with Neville, and Ron with Parvati, before slipping away. He hoped that no one would notice, though he knew that it was only a matter of time before Ron and Hermione would realise he'd gone. But he desperately wanted a few minutes to himself. He was in no mood for dancing.

He stepped out into the empty hallway and shivered. After the noise and cheer of the Room of Requirement, it seemed quite desolate. But there was an odd sort of comfort in that chilly solitude.

We haven't won the war yet, Hermione's voice echoed in Harry's head. And now Harry silently replied:

No, we haven't. And we won't, until I kill Voldemort. Me. That's all it rests on. Me killing Voldemort.

Harry sighed miserably. He'd never felt so isolated. Everyone else could celebrate the victory, could hope that there'd be another and another until Voldemort was defeated. Harry knew that Voldemort wouldn't be defeated, unless he killed him - and what was the chance of that?

One in a thousand. One in a million. Either I kill him, or he wins. All these little victories - and we've only had one, so far - none of them mean a thing.

"Harry?"

Ron had noticed Harry's absence much quicker than Harry had expected. Harry had thought he wanted to be alone, but he felt a surge of gratitude to Ron for coming after him so quickly.

"What's wrong, mate?" Ron asked.

Harry almost told him. He'd never been so tempted to tell him. But in the end, Harry held back, thinking of the party, thinking of how happy Ron was to have finally achieved something in this hopeless war. I can't tell him it doesn't mean anything, I can't tell him it doesn't make a difference. He forced a smile. "Nothing. I'm okay. Just tired, you know."

Ron crossed his arms. "You'll have to do better than that, Harry. I'm not that thick."

Harry sighed. "What do you want me to say? I'm not in a party mood, that's all." Harry searched his mind for an excuse. "Snape's essay is due tomorrow, and I'm only halfway through." Harry mentally patted himself on the back for thinking of this. Apart from anything else, it happened to be true, and he thought with some dismay about the two feet of parchment he still needed to write. "I don't think he'll accept "victory party" as an excuse."

Ron still looked sceptical. "I haven't finished either, but I'm not out in the hallway feeling sorry for myself. Even Hermione's stopped worrying for a bit."

"Look, I'm just..." Harry stopped. He's my best friend. He knows I'm lying. Ron looked absolutely determined to get the truth, and Harry knew that excuses would not work this time. He had to do better. "Look, Ron. Can you please just drop it? Dumbledore told me something at the end of last year, and it's... well, it's a lot to think about. And... Ron, I can't tell you. Please can you just drop it? I'll tell you when I can, but I can't now."

"Harry, whatever it is... You can tell me. I mean... I'm - well, Hermione is - we're worried about you. Why can't you tell us?"

Harry sighed. "I just can't, Ron. Not yet. Okay? I'll tell you sometime, I promise." And Harry meant it. He couldn't keep the prophesy from his best friends forever. But now just wasn't the time.

Ron finally seemed to cave in. "Harry, you know this isn't fair, right?"

Harry leaned against the cold wall wearily. "Yes, I know. And I'm sorry."

"Whatever," said Ron. Then he grinned. "Well, you're not going back to the common room, that's for sure. If Snape's going to fail me, he'd better fail you, too. Back to the party, Potter!"

Ron's imitation of Snape's commanding tone was so accurate, Harry couldn't help laughing. He allowed Ron to march him back into the Room of Requirement, where an anxious-looking Hermione nearly knocked them over at the door.

"Where've you two been?" she asked. "I was just about to go looking for you. It's our turn on the Extendable Ears in a few minutes - we'd better get back to the common room."

Ron groaned. "Oh come on, Hermione, d'you really think the Slytherins will be talking about You-Know-Who's next move now?"

Hermione put her hands on her hips and glared. "Ron, now is when it's most important for us to listen! They'll be wondering how the Aurors knew about the raid - we have to hear everything they say!"

Harry realised she had a point. He didn't mind too much - he still didn't feel much like dancing. Ron didn't seem to want to leave the party, but he, too, had realised Hermione was right.

"Who's next after us?" he asked. "You'd better remind them, or we'll be stuck there all night."

Hermione looked at the roster sheet on the wall. "Colin and Dennis Creevey," she said. Then she looked at the roster again, and her face paled. "Oh, no," she said.

"What?" Harry and Ron asked together. But Hermione had already turned her back to them, and was marching towards the dance floor.

"Parvati! Lavender!" she shouted. "Where's the Extendable Ear?"

Lavender, who was dancing with Terry Boot, pulled away from him and looked curiously at Hermione. "In the common room. Why?"

"Who's listening to it?" Hermione asked quickly, her voice on the verge of panic. "Tell me you left someone listening to it?"

Lavender looked bewildered. "Why, Hermione? They're not going to say anything now..."

Hermione didn't listen to the rest. "Come on!" she commanded Harry and Ron, and sprinted for the door. "I can't believe I've been so careless!" she wailed to no one in particular.

"Bloody hell," said Ron, shaking his head. "So much for a peaceful evening." Then he set off after Hermione, Harry following close behind.

***

"It's a bug," said Samuel Wong. "It has to be."

The Slytherins were crowded into the sixth-year dormitory. One of the more competent students had healed Malfoy's nose and taken the curses off Crabbe and Goyle. They didn't bother to help Bauer, so Jeremy had stepped in. His healing spells were a little bit clumsy, but Bauer didn't seem to mind. He had retreated to the dormitory, after ordering Jeremy to go with the others and listen to everything they said. Jeremy stood at the back of the room, hoping no one would notice him.

"I figured that, Wong," Malfoy said disdainfully, every bit his normal arrogant self. "Can't see any other reason for it to be there." He'd recovered his composure in a matter of seconds after Jeremy had shown him the button. He'd put two and two together with remarkable speed, and ushered everyone out of the common room with just a few hints, threats and waves of his wand.

"How?" asked Blaise Zabini. "I mean, how the hell did it get there?"

"Potter," said Malfoy with absolute certainty. "He has an Invisibility Cloak. I bet he managed to get in here, somehow."

Guess Bauer's off the hook, Jeremy thought. Thank Merlin for Potter.

"Yeah, that stamp on it," said the seventh-year who'd healed Malfoy. "I've seen it before. Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. I've seen some of their stuff in Zonko's, when I was buying presents for my little brother."

"Weasleys," said Malfoy with contempt. "Well, that proves it. Clever, Potter. Very clever."

"So, what are we going to do?" asked Nott. "Feed them false information?"

"They would've heard our little... argument, though," said Samuel Wong. "They'd know we found it."

"We don't know that," said Malfoy. "They might not be listening all the time. They might not figure out that we'd found the thing - thankfully, no one was thick enough to actually yell 'It's a bug!' in there."

"But how will we know?" asked Pansy Parkinson.

Malfoy thought about it for a few seconds. Finally, he said, "We can't. But we can find out." He looked over everyone, to make sure they were all listening. "We carry on as before. Talk normally in the common room - act as if you have no idea about the bug. Don't say anything secret, of course - wouldn't put it past some of you."

"And?" asked Zabini. "What are you gonna do?"

"Well - first we need to find out if it really is a bug. And if it is..." he smiled his slow, dangerous smile. "Let's just say I have an idea."