Dark Obsession

Chapter 5

The corridor leading to the oak door of the hospital wing was crowded with people again; however there was none of the joy and anticipation of the last time. They weren't joyously awaiting the birth of a baby. This time, they were awaiting word of their fellow student.

Harry had carried Katia to Poppy himself, waving off Hermione's suggestion that he magic a stretcher for her. Annika had caught Jamie just before she'd hit the stone floor. Looking back on it, Hermione remembered the whole event in slow motion: hearing the scream, turning to see Katia slide to the floor, then watching her daughter tumble from the young girl's arms. And while she was still shaking, Jamie was now snoozing in her grandmother's arms, completely unfazed by her near miss.

"I want all of you to return to your dormitories," Minerva said as she exited the ward and noted the collection of students milling about. Most, Hermione knew, were there out of curiosity, and would be easy to move on their way. But some, the Gryffindors for instance, would be harder to chivvy along. In fact, theirs were the only voices of protest.

It was decided that David and Zach, Katia's best friends, would stay with her and return to Gryffindor Tower with news of her condition. Mollified, the remaining Gryffindors took their leave.

Harry glanced towards the hospital wing door. Of course, David and Zach would be staying. Primarily because David had utterly refused to leave her side. Zach walked through the oak door a moment later, head down and face pale.

"Is she awake?" Harry asked him.

"No," Zach said dejectedly. "I just couldn't stay in there anymore. I can't take looking at her like that."

Harry and Ron, who had stood vigil over a motionless Hermione a few times, traded a commiserating glance over the third year's head. Ron stepped towards the younger version of himself and led him over to a bench. "Come on, mate. You won't do her any good by worrying yourself into sickness."

Harry shot a grateful look at Ron as he drew the student into a discussion of the Quidditch team's preparations for the upcoming match against Ravenclaw. He stared at the closed door again. His heart thudded in his chest when the door opened a moment later. Hermione, sitting right beside him, took his hand and clasped it tightly.

Poppy surveyed the collection of people and headed straight for Minerva. They spoke quietly for a moment. Minerva nodded and then Poppy turned towards those assembled. Zach had popped off the bench as if he'd been sitting on a spring.

"Is she okay?" he asked before the nurse could even open her mouth.

"She'll be fine," Poppy said, her voice harried, but with a hint of compassion. "She's awake, but still in considerable pain. I have no idea what happened, or what's caused this. All I know for certain is that her injury is magical in origin."

Once the nurse had turned and walked back into the ward, those remaining broke into murmurs. All except for Ron. He turned and left the waiting room without a word.

*^*^*^*^

Mariah had taken her father straight to an empty room near the hospital wing. She knew Ron would keep her informed of the young girl's condition, either in her mind or in person. In the meantime, she needed to have this talk with her father.

"Daddy," she said quietly, "is everything okay at home?"

"Mariah..." her father began, halting when his daughter raised a hand.

"I need to know, Daddy."

"I can't answer that, Mariah, because I don't know. Your moth..," he corrected himself quickly, "Allison left about two months ago. I don't know whether she's left me completely or if she's off on some Diviner thing. She's never been one to let something as trivial as common courtesy get in her way, you know. If Allison needs to go, she goes, and screw anyone else."

Mariah, thinking of Renae's late night departure, nodded her head. "It is the Diviner way," she said, hatred coloring her every word. "I was wondering how you'd managed to come here without her tagging along."

"It seems your fiancé had thought of that, as well, even though it turned out to be unnecessary. He cares for you a great deal, Mariah."

"He loves me," she said, part of her still stunned by it. "And I love him."

"I've never wanted anything else for you, Mia."

Father and daughter embraced on the bench where they sat, Mariah soaking in all she could of her father's arm around her shoulder. Then she carried on with what she really needed to know.

"Have you been dreaming, Daddy?"

If her father was surprised by this, he didn't show it. "No more than usual. Why?" he asked, sounding truly puzzled.

"No reason," she said, not quite keeping the disappointment from her voice.

"Mia," her father began, "you never ask a question for no reason. Tell me what's wr--"

Ron's sudden appearance at the door kept her father from finishing that statement.

"Katia's awake," Ron told both of them.

"Do they know what happened?" Mariah's father asked.

"No," Ron said, his eyes fixed on Mariah's as he told her what Poppy had said.

She's sure it was a spell...magic of some kind?

Yes,

Ron thought back, that's not good, is it?

Not if we choose to believe that Renae wasn't just spouting rubbish.

They both sighed. Mariah's father, used to Diviner/Bond mental discussions, sat quietly and let them talk. "Sorry, Daddy," Mariah took his hand again. "That was rude of us, but there are things happening here..."

"I understand, Mia. Believe me."

Further discussion was tabled as the rest of the dedication party showed up at the door. Harry and Hermione flanked by Jeanne and Brian Granger, the Malfoys, the Weasleys, Sirius, Minerva, Remus and Remus' lady friend, Jory. They all wore nearly identical smiles. Just moments after Ron had left, Poppy had come back out to inform them that she had pinpointed the cause of Katia's pain and that the girl would be fine.

They had planned on an elaborate reception in Hogsmeade, but even in light of Katia's imminent recovery, none of them really felt like celebrating. Jeanne and Molly, however, were having none of that. The staff at Ember's Tavern had worked all morning to prepare the food and they were, by Merlin, going to go there and eat it.

Eyes met all over the room, followed by a collective sigh. Even though outnumbered, those two were a force to be reckoned with when their minds were made up. The way the rest of them saw it, they had two options. Give in now or debate it with the two matriarchs and give in later. No one really had the energy for the latter, so they opted for the former.

Half an hour later, they were all gathered around a cozy fire in one of Ember's back rooms, tables overloaded with rich stews, fresh bread, vegetable casseroles and assorted puddings, all magically maintaining their proper temperature.

There was little conversation, just clusters of people talking in low voices. Sirius decided that he'd had just about enough of that. He wasn't immune to the accident, or whatever had happened to the young girl, but she was going to be fine.

All he needed was an icebreaker, Sirius thought, walking towards Moony. He knew his best friend would be after his blood for this, but one of the benefits of a longstanding friendship was the ability to use that closeness to his own advantage.

"So, Remus," he said in a loud voice, "you going to introduce me to this lovely woman, or are we supposed to break out the crystal balls and figure it out on our own?" Sirius had, of course, met Jory on several occasions over the months the two had been together, but conveniently neglected to inform everyone else.

For one moment, the wolf within him shot from Remus' eyes towards his best friend. Then he noticed that everyone in the room had turned to face him. He'd originally planned on arriving late and leaving early for just this reason; not that he was ashamed of his relationship with Jory, but in deference to her. Her innate shyness made him appear the extrovert.

He leaned in closely to the woman now clutching his hand as if it was the only thing tethering her to the earth. "Are you okay?" he whispered into her ear on the pretense of placing a kiss to her temple.

"As long as you're with me, love, I'm fine," she whispered up at him in the soft, silky voice that never failed to set his nerve endings dancing.

"Jory," he said in his old schoolteacher's voice, "I'd like you to meet my rather extended, and in one case, exasperating, family."

He'd thought long and hard about how to go about introducing this woman to those closest to him and had realized that she would probably feel more at ease if he made one large, sweeping introduction rather than throw names at her, flustering her even further. Let them come to her, he thought.

And come to her they did. Sirius must have coached Harry and Hermione, who further instructed the rest, because those gathered didn't rush forward. They simply smiled at Jory and took their time stepping forward to introduce themselves to her.

Harry and Hermione, with Jamie asleep on her father's shoulder, came first. Followed by Ron and Mariah. Then, to his utter amazement, Draco and Ginny. Of all the introductions, he'd been most concerned with this one. Draco, the student, had been instrumental in spreading his condition around the school after Severus had dropped his little bomb. And he had worried that Draco, the man, would say something to that effect to Jory. As Draco neared, Remus eyed the man but saw nothing in his stance or facial expression to indicate anything other than acceptance.

He'd heard from Sirius, and from Harry, that Draco had changed since his marriage to Ginny Weasley, but he hadn't been prepared to believe it. Until Draco leaned forward, placed a kiss to Jory's cheek, shook Remus' hand and said to Jory, "I've never seen this man smile. For that, you should be praised."

"Thank you, Draco," Jory replied with a smile of her own. "I guess finding one's true mate does that, doesn't it?" Remus knew she was referring to the obvious affection the pair in front of them had for each other. But when Draco's eyes shot to his, Remus knew that he'd caught the other meaning to Jory's words.

He'd realized that Jory was a werewolf as well.

Remus stiffened, awaiting the icy remark the Slytherin was bound to make. He'd planned for this, prepared every possible comeback to spare his mate's feelings. And all that preparation, it seemed, had been for naught.

For all Draco Malfoy did in response was to tighten his arm around his wife's shoulders and smile broadly. "That it does, Jory. That it does."

The couple turned to walk away, but Remus caught Ginny's arm before they could. "What kind of spell did you put on him, Ginny?"

"I just love him, Remus. For the boy he had to be and the man he's becoming."

"Becoming?" Draco drawled, hearing every word.

"Face it, love," Ginny smiled up, batting her eyelashes at him teasingly, "you still need a lot of work."

"Here, here," replied Ron, who had been standing nearby.

"Sod off, Weasley," Draco said, his grin widening. "Now I know why you lot continue to tell me that. Feels bloody wonderful."

The tension broke after that and the assembled group began to settle in and enjoy themselves. Remus told all of them of meeting Jory one full moon a few months ago, running in an open field near his home. She'd growled and snarled until he'd realized that he was trespassing on her domain. He'd retreated, but not far. Two days later, when the moon had begun to wane again, he'd returned to the field, only to find a beautiful woman walking near where the other wolf had been.

Good natured taunts were thrown around the room now that the tension had eased a bit. Draco found himself wishing that Severus had joined them so he could have had at least one other Slytherin to balance out the overabundance of Gryffindors. And slowly, they all began to enjoy themselves and leave the near disaster at the dedication behind them.

^*^*^*^*

Harry glanced up from the papers he was grading as Hermione came down the stairs. She looked harried, her bushy hair having freed itself of the elastic she'd used to try and tame it. In fact, the elastic seemed loathe to give up its job and was still clinging stubbornly to a few strands in the back.

"What was Jamie crying about?" he asked. He'd heard his daughter's crying, but had put it down to overexcitement and an inability to settle for the night. A sudden horror struck him. "She's not teething again, is she?"

Hermione paid him no mind. Instead, she set about ripping their lounge apart, cushion by cushion.

"Hermione?"

"What?" she asked, still not even looking at him. The now denuded sofa was forgotten as she began crawling on her hands and knees, looking underneath all the chairs. The sight of her backside, twitching so fetchingly as she moved, began a slow burn low in his belly. He didn't think his wife would appreciate the turn of his thoughts, so he kept them to himself.

"What are you looking for?"

"Jamie's dog. Her favorite one. The one Sirius gave to her when she was born. It isn't in her crib and it wasn't in the baby bag, I just checked. She noticed the moment I put her down and went to pieces."

"What about the spare one in the closet? Why not just give that one to her?"

"Of course I gave that one to her," Hermione growled, now throwing assorted shoes out of the cupboard near the front door. "Do I look that stupid to you? Why do you think she's quiet now?"

"What about a Summoning charm?" Harry suggested.

"Great Merlin's ghost, Harry. What sort of moron do you take me for? That was the first thing I tried. It didn't work."

Harry put down his eagle feather quill and crossed the room towards her. She looked on the verge of tearing up the floorboards in search of the dog when he clamped his hands around her upper arms and pulled her to him.

"This has nothing to do with the dog, does it?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"I can't get it out of my head, Harry. I keep seeing her tumbling towards the floor. What if she...?"

"But she didn't, love," Harry reassured, wrapping his arms around her tightly, "she's fine."

He felt her relax by degrees, felt the tension seep out of her in his embrace and felt a purely masculine rush of arrogance that he was the only one that could do this. That it was his arms that relaxed her, his presence that grounded her when she started to spin out of control.

Something of that arrogance pressed against her stomach and she pulled back, her eyebrows raised. "Honestly," she sighed, but pressed herself more fully into him. "You'd think you were a teenager that just discovered what girls are all about."

"Can't help the way you make me feel, Hermione," he grinned back, "especially when you insist on creeping around on the floor waving your bum at me."

"I was searching for your daughter's toy, Harry," she said, trying to sound superior, "not issuing an invitation."

"Too bad," Harry said with a dramatic sigh.

"Just out of curiosity," she asked, arching her hips into him again, "what sort of invitation did you think I was giving you?"

Harry waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively and kissed her deeply. "I was hoping you'd ask."

By the time he'd finished showing her, the missing toy was completely forgotten.

*^*^*^*^*^*^

Journal Entry

The child. Oh, dear Merlin, the child. I can't get the picture out of my head, beloved, the image of the child tumbling towards peril. If only I had your arms to soothe me, I would be able to stop shaking.

But I couldn't control the rage, either. I know you will understand, because I saw the way you looked. You were just as appalled as I was at what the spellcaster did. How dare she place the child in the arms of one just a child herself? That precious little girl would never have been in danger without the carelessness of that woman who controls you. When we are a proper family, I will never do anything like that.

Our time together is growing nearer, I can feel it. Every time I touch you, I can feel you touch me back. Every time our eyes meet, I can feel your love wash over me.

But it's getting so hard to see you with her, to watch you succumb to the charms she's laid around you. To know that when she's kissing you, you want to be kissing me but are helpless against her.

I think you need to fight a little harder, beloved, because seeing you together is making me wonder if you're fighting it at all.

*^*^*^*^*^*^

Rainy Sunday mornings, in Harry's opinion, were meant for warm fires, the Daily Prophet, and the two most important women in his life cuddled with him on the overly large sofa.

They were not meant for handsome Aurors ogling his wife.

Harry eyed Jason-the-attractive-Auror with barely concealed disdain. In reality, he needn't have bothered concealing it at all. Hermione, seated next to him, couldn't see it and Jason hadn't spared him a glance since walking through the front door.

"I'm just relieved that you're all right," he was saying, his eyes roving over Hermione's face. "When word reached me of an accident at the dedication, I Apparated straight here."

If Hermione noticed the inherent why-wasn't-I-invited question in his tone, she didn't show it. Harry would have liked to answer with an inherent over-my-dead-body response, but didn't relish the idea of Hermione transfiguring him into a dog to make a point.

"I'm fine, Jason," Hermione said, a slight shiver running through her. Harry knew it was the memory of Jamie's close call. "We're all fine. How've you been?"

It was a struggle to keep the sound of his grinding teeth from Hermione, but he gave it a go. All he wanted was for this strutting prat to leave his house so that they could return to their quiet morning before the pressures of the upcoming school day became unavoidable. Just then, he felt Hermione fingers teasing the back of his neck and memories of last night flooded over him. When their eyes met, he read her intent as clearly as if she'd spoken. Be nice and I'll make it worth your while.

Her small, pink tongue darted out between smiling lips to moisten them. Remembering just how she'd used that tongue a few hours ago, Harry decided that putting on a pleasant countenance for her sake would be well worth the effort.

"Which reminds me," Jason was saying, trying to draw their attention away from one another. Clearly he wasn't too fond of having Hermione distracted. Sucks to be you, doesn't it? Harry thought.

"What?" Hermione prompted, turning towards him again.

"An odd report crossed my desk last week. Something about a magical fire at a Muggle household. Apparently, the Muggles have decided that it was deliberately set but have no clue about the culprit. A couple of Ministry wizards were there, one of them an Unspeakable whose name I can never remember, and the other from Muggle Affairs."

Harry sat forward, his mind now focused on Jason and not what he was planning on doing with his wife later. "Are you talking about a fire on Privet Drive?"

"Yes, I thought that would get your attention." Harry heard the malice in the other man's voice, but was too intent on hearing more to care. He knew that Seamus was the Muggle Affairs wizard and that Draco was the Unspeakable, although that title wasn't exactly correct. Given the rather clandestine nature of Draco's work, Harry didn't supply the name.

"Why were the Aurors called into it?" Hermione asked.

"The nature of the fire. The Muggle Affairs wizard called an Auror friend of his and asked the kind of questions that set off our wards. So we decided to take a look at the place as well. I'm given to understand that the deceased were relatives of yours?"

"Yes," Harry said reluctantly, "of a sort."

Jason didn't ask why he didn't sound more upset at the loss of family, but turned his attention back to Hermione immediately. Harry felt like he could get up and dance nude on the coffee table, and Jason wouldn't look back at him. Down boy, he scolded himself, settling in to listen.

"We found the spell point further out in the yard, near the hedgerows. From what we could see of the residual material, it looks like a regular Inflamare spell, but whoever cast it did something to make the flames resistant to water. I wanted to talk to you about it, actually, because I remember those being a particular specialty of yours."

Harry watched as Hermione and Jason discussed flame charms, forgetting his rancor towards the other man in light of any information he could glean about the Dursley fire. So many things had happened since that clipping had arrived that it had been relegated to a distant memory in the recesses of his mind. Hearing that even the Aurors were stumped about it renewed its place in the spotlight. Something else began to tickle at the base of his brain. If that love letter had been for him....

He began to wonder, however contrived and ridiculous it might seem, if the person who sent the love letter and the one that informed him of the fire might just be one and the same.

*^*^*^*^*

Mariah spent the same dreary Sunday in much the same manner as her best friend, curled on a sofa with a fire, her fiancé and their child. Rianne wasn't sleeping but playing with her father. She'd had a fondness for Ron's star mobiles since early in her infancy, and Ron was using his wand to conjure pink and gold stars and keep them dancing just out of their daughter's reach.

"You need to talk to someone, Mariah," he said, as Rianne made it known that more stars were in order.

"I know," she said softly. Her father's visit, while bolstering her morale immeasurably, had left her even more introspective than usual. The nightly torment she underwent while dreaming had not decreased. She'd hoped beyond bearing that her father would tell her that they were sharing the dreams...that he was trying to tell her something. But he hadn't. The only dreams he could recall were of the usual, fishing, carpentry, and a life without being Bonded to Allison.

Which meant, Mariah knew, that her dreams were wholly her own; that her subconscious brain was trying to tell her something. Try as she might, though, she couldn't figure out what.

Katia's accident still weighed heavily in their hearts, even though the report from Poppy made it clear that the young girl would be back in lessons by Monday afternoon. Renae's last prediction was that a young girl's pain would signal the point of no return, and neither could help but feel that time was running out.

"I was going to take Rianne out to see Mum and Dad this afternoon. Dad's got some new Muggle thing he wants to show me, and Mum was all over the not-so-subtle hints about never seeing her grandchildren."

"That sounds perfect," Mariah said, relieved. "Let me throw a few things in Rianne's bag..."

"I meant alone, Angel. You have something else to do today. You promised."

She had promised, Mariah remembered now. Last night, wrapped in Ron's arms and still trembling from the recent nightmare, she'd vowed to talk to someone about the dreams. Strange thing, though, but it didn't seem nearly that urgent in the light of day.

"Okay, okay," she grumbled, watching as Ron's eyebrow threatened to lose itself in his hairline.

Half an hour later, she was kissing both of them goodbye as they stood by the green flames. "I love you," he said simply, pressing his lips to hers and trying to infuse as much of that love to her as he could.

"Right back at you, Weasley," she responded. She always felt giddy when he gave to her like that. "Try not to blow anything up, okay?"

"No promises," he winked back. A second later they were gone and Mariah was alone in the apartment.

Grumbling about fiancés that thought they knew it all, Mariah headed off herself. It seemed to take no time at all before she was outside the room, her hand poised to knock. For a moment, she allowed herself to regret not forming closer ties within her own community. For shunning what she was in her effort to distance herself from her mother. Because right now, she needed another Diviner's guidance and this was her only option.

"Come in, Mariah," the dewy voice said from behind the door a second before her knuckles touched it.

Mariah pushed open the trap door and walked up the curving staircase to Sybill Trelawney's tower room.

*^*^*^*^*^*^

Hermione sat in the kitchen going over a recipe Molly had given her. It was a goulash she made that Harry apparently loved. Knowing that the Dursley fire was on his mind again, she wanted to do something special for him. Reminding him of happier days at the Burrow seemed just the ticket.

Determined to see the thing done right, Hermione had read the directions five times. All of the ingredients were measured and waiting on the kitchen counter. She was now trying to pluck up the courage to mix them all together.

Just add the ingredients in the order listed, Hermione,

Molly had written at the bottom, pretend it's a potion.

"Pretend it's a potion," Hermione said aloud, smiling. Now why hadn't anyone ever told her that? If cooking was just like potion brewing then there really wasn't anything to it. She'd always excelled in Snape's classes. This should be a piece of cake. Or a bowl of goulash, as the case may be.

A knock on their back door forestalled her culinary efforts.

"Jason?" she said, opening the door to him and stepping aside to let him in. "What is it?"

The Auror looked decidedly aggrieved about something. He stood right near the closed door and cast his eyes around what he could see of the downstairs. "It's nothing," he said, his voice quavering a bit.

"Did you think of something else?" she asked, eager for any more information.

"No, I...where's..." he lapsed off again, looking even more ill at ease.

"Harry?" she supplied and Jason nodded. "He went over to a friend's house." She didn't know exactly why she didn't want to tell Jason that Harry was at Draco's discussing the fire again. But something stilled her tongue.

"I see."

Silence descended and not a comfortable one. Jason was shifting from his right foot to his left, staring at her intensely. "I, actually, there was a question I wanted to ask you."

"What?" she asked, double checking the number of potatoes.

"Why are you wasting your talent?"

Hermione spilled too much broth into the cauldron, bowl she corrected herself, at Jason's question. "What do you mean?"

"I've spoken to Moody about this and I have to know. We all saw it when you came to teach the counter. You'd make a hell of an Auror, Hermione. So why are you stuck here, teaching Muggle Studies to a group of children?"

"I enjoy teaching," she said simply. "It's not a lot of stress, except at exam time. It gives me the free time to spend with Jamie and Harry, and we're all together. If I was an Auror, I'd probably never see either of them as you well know."

"Or did you think that would be a fine idea?" Harry asked from the doorway. Jason, he noted, had the good grace to look uncomfortable at being found alone with his wife, Harry saw him square his shoulders.

"It's a fair question. I mean, everyone knows why you're teaching."

Harry kept his face blank again. "Because I enjoy it? I have a flair with young minds and love helping them conquer difficult spells and creatures?" Harry suggested.

"Or because you spent the first three years out of school in a bottle," Jason offered.

"Well, there is that," Harry conceded. "But the Auror path never appealed to me, or to Hermione. We fought enough dark wizards in our youth to want to take it on professionally. After all that happened, we both wanted a quiet, non life-threatening adulthood."

Jason watched Hermione nod in agreement. He made his excuses not long after that and nearly fled from the house. "Well, what was that all about?" Hermione asked, turning back to her nearly completed supper.

"To quote Draco, I believe your Auror friend is a bit keen to get into your knickers, love."

Harry wanted to be upset about finding the man in his house while he wasn't there. Hermione's look of shock washed all that upset away. "He...my...Harry Potter!"

"That's a beautiful shade of red, love," Harry ran a finger across one inflamed cheek. His finger caressed her lips, trailed down her chin, across both breasts, dipped into her navel and then found aforementioned knickers.

"Harry," she gasped, both scandalized and tantalized at being made love to in her kitchen.

"My Hermione," Harry panted back.

Hermione had already had one encounter with Alpha Male Harry. As he bent her over the kitchen table and staked his claim, Hermione decided that she really, really liked it.

Wrapped up in each other, neither of them noticed the face at the window.

*^*^*^*^*

"So, Mariah," Sybill leaned back in her winged arm chair and surveyed the younger Diviner over the rim of her teacup. "What brings you to my tower room all of the sudden?"

"A promise," she said truthfully. Sybill merely stared at her and waited for Mariah to continue. "How close were you with Renae before she left?"

"Not close at all," Sybill sighed. "I tried to befriend her, but I got the distinct impression that she was not interested. Perhaps it was the way she continually shut the door in my face."

Mariah smiled in spite of herself. "She was closed off like that, even as a child. It took me years to feel that I was really close to her. And then..."

"And then she met Sabastian."

"Yes." Mariah barely controlled a shudder at the memory of her brother, and of what he nearly accomplished. God rest his black soul.

"Are you going to tell me why you're here, or am I to merely pretend that this is a social call?"

"Before she left, Renae kept talking about...things...happening. I guess I wanted to know if you had seen anything recently."

"I take it you don't mean the last Quidditch game," Sybill smiled softly but saw instantly that her humor was lost on the younger witch. "Mariah, in keeping with my reputation around this school, you must know that I rarely predict anything with any degree of accuracy. But there is one thing..." Sybill broke off and took a slow draught of tea, obviously mulling over what she should say. "I did see one thing, not long ago during one of my classes. I saw the death of one of my students."

"From what I've heard, that's not exactly news, Sybill."

"This has nothing to do with that, Mariah. I haven't had a vision like this since the night Hermione Granger was lying in the hospital wing during her seventh year."

"Who was the student?" Mariah asked, fearing the answer.

"I couldn't see that," the older Diviner said dejectedly. "Blast the genes that only gave me a sampling of what others have in abundance. Just enough to frustrate me beyond all bearing." Sybill shook her head and focused on Mariah again. "All I could see was that my student was dead, and that he shouldn't be. I knew his death was meaningless and that it wasn't his time. That his death should never have happened."

"His?" Mariah said, her voice filled with fear and loathing.

Sybill looked thoughtful for a moment. "No, I wasn't able to see the sex of the student. I suppose I just inserted the male pronoun out of habit."

A silence filled the room as Mariah brooded over what Sybill had said. If she had seen the death, and assuming it was the same meaningless death Renae had predicted, then nothing had changed to alter Renae's vision. That death was still imminent. Mariah rubbed her now clammy hands on her jeans and paused.

"Genes," she muttered.

"Excuse me?" Sybill blinked at her.

"You said something about the genes that gave you only a partial ability."

"Well, of course. The genetic material of our fathers impacts greatly on what our abilities become. Every Diviner knows that." She eyed Mariah's blank face. "Or at least those with proper guidance."

"Don't start with that, Sybill. I realize that you and Allison were close once, but that should make you understand perfectly why I chose to separate myself from the Order."

"I won't pretend that she was the best example for you to grow up with," Sybill said. "She always had her eyes on the future. Ever since her Persuader gift became prominent, and the vision...." Sybill stopped speaking abruptly and rose to pour herself more tea.

"What vision?" Mariah demanded.

Sybill sighed resignedly and gave in without a fight. Though neither would appreciate hearing it, mother and daughter were extremely similar when it came to what they wanted. Utterly tenacious.

"She told me the story one night, right before you were born. She'd been to see Jada, a powerful Knower and head of our Order before Kalena took the reins. Jada had a vision that night, the one that set much of your life in motion. The vision that inferred her relationship to the Triuna.

"From that moment forward, Allison began researching genetics. Which traits would mix with hers to produce the most powerful Diviner. She was frenzied in her study. Then, she met your father."

Mariah could tell by the other woman's reluctance what had happened next. "Let me guess, his genes were ideal so she Persuaded him that he was in love with her and Bonded herself to him without his knowledge."

"Yes," Sybill admitted. "At first, your father was deliriously happy. But as time passed, Allison started to get distracted."

"And she started to forget to keep Persuading him that he loved her."

"Yes," the older Diviner said sadly. "It was a horrible time for him. Realizing he'd been betrayed and why. I think that was when the loss of his son hit him the hardest. When he realized that she'd sent their child away and he'd blithely gone along with it."

Knowing her parents story too well from that point on, Mariah stood and moved towards the trap door. "Let me know if you do see anything, Sybill," she said before her head dropped below the floor's surface.

Sybill waited until she could no longer hear Mariah's footsteps on the floor below her before picking up the young woman's teacup. She swirled the dregs three times with her left hand and upended it.

What she saw when she righted the cup had her writing a letter to Kalena within moments.

^*^*^*^*^*^

Monday morning dawned in sharp contrast to the dreary Sunday. The sun caressed the Hogwarts and Hogsmeade environs, but without any warming whatsoever. A vicious wind was still howling through the trees and streets. The very walls of Harry and Hermione's small cottage were nearly groaning in protest.

Hermione was ladling porridge into bowls for them, a thinner version into Jamie's. Faren came bustling in the front door a few moments after they'd begun eating looking quite harried.

She banged pots onto the stove's top without greeting either of them, rummaging loudly in a lower cabinet. "Where's the large mixing bowl?"

Hermione giggled. "I had to throw it out," she admitted. Once Harry had finished with her, the pseudo-goulash had congealed in the bowl. The resulting mess was so disgusting neither of them had wanted to even attempt a scouring charm.

"You tried to cook again?" Faren asked distractedly, cracking eggs into the smaller bowl. "You should really leave that to those that know what they're doing, Hermione."

"Faren, what's wrong?" asked a very concerned Harry. Even thought the nanny often thought ill of Hermione's culinary attempts, she never verbalized them.

Faren paused in the middle of whisking together the omelet. "Why would you ask that? Everything's fine. I just got a late start this morning." Faren noted the looks on their faces and softened her tone. "I...something troubling happened last night, and I...I guess I didn't sleep well."

The stutter in her voice had both of them doubting the veracity of her claim, but neither wanted to call her on it. "Do you need some time today? I'm sure Mariah or Ginny wouldn't mind watching Jamie..."

"I can do my job, Hermione," the nanny said rather waspishly, completely cutting off her employer. "Jamie will be perfectly safe with me."

Harry could see the confusion and hurt in both women's eyes and suddenly realized where this was coming from. "Faren, you don't think we hold you responsible for what happened at the dedication, do you?"

Faren blinked rapidly and Harry could see that she did suspect that. He walked over to her and placed his hand on her shoulder. "It was an accident," Harry said reassuringly, "nothing more."

Jamie chose that moment to fling a rather large spoonful of porridge off her spoon, the majority of it landing in Harry's hair. He grinned. "And Jamie is just fine, as you can see, so don't think another thing about it, okay?"

"Okay," she said, meeting Harry's eyes with tears in her own. "I'll try."

"See that you do. And you, little miss," Harry said, turning to Jamie. Hermione, he noticed, was covering her mouth with her hand, her eyes alight with suppressed laughter. "Think this is funny, eh, love?"

"Not at all," she said, her voice thick with humor. "In fact, I think porridge quite becomes you."

*^*^*^*^*^

Harry went straight into lecture with his seventh years when he arrived at class. Mostly because he knew they needed to know the theory behind the charm before they could even attempt to use it. With any luck none of them would have to, and only those that went on to become Aurors would probably ever need it.

But it was his job to give them the baseline for those future lessons.

After half an hour, during which he watched them sink into a stupor worthy of Professor Binns, Harry decided it was time to wake them up.

He took out his wand, aimed it at the packing case and said "Alohomora". The boggart Dementor rose from the case, startling his entire class into full alert. Many scurried to the back of the room, some appeared frozen in fear. Wand still outstretched, Harry conjured his Patronus and watched as Prongs stood directly in front of the Dementor. Like a bull towards a red cape, Prongs charged the boggart down within moments.

The room was silent for mere seconds after Harry finished his demonstration. Then his student's voices eradicated the silence with the force of a banshee's shriek. Each student began asking when they could start learning to conjure their own patronus. Harry wasn't too popular when he informed them that they wouldn't be learning it, but eventually the protests died down.

He watched his students file out after the bell, weighted by a familiar pang in his heart. For the most part, his father's absence in his life rarely affected his day to day life. But his father's Animagus form brought the loss back to the forefront every time.

"Excuse me, Professor." Harry looked up to see Annika and her boyfriend Daniel standing in front of his desk.

"Sorry, Annika," Harry shook off his longing for the past and focused on the present. "What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if you'd had a chance to look over my application yet."

"Application?"

"The one to the Auror Institute. We talked about my going there near the end of last year, remember? You said you'd look over my essay."

"Right," Harry said, suddenly remembering. "I'm sorry, but with one thing and another, I'm afraid it slipped my mind." By "one thing and another", Harry was referring to his near disastrous decline into himself and temporary separation from his wife, as well as the events of this term, but he didn't feel the need to inform his student of that.

"I'll look at it tonight, Annika," Harry said, distracted by another student in his doorway. "Zach," he motioned the third year forward, "how's Katia?"

"Much better," Zach smiled, relief in every syllable. "She was supposed to leave the hospital wing today, but she's still sleeping, so Madam Pomfrey decided to let her carry on and return to Gryffindor Tower tonight."

"Where's David?"

"Down getting her Transfiguration homework. She went slightly mental when we saw her at lunch break and Madam Pomfrey got her to admit she still didn't have the energy for classes this afternoon."

Harry suppressed a grin, remembering shuttling books to the hospital wing for Hermione when she sported the face and tail of a cat. "She wanted me to come here and get our homework from you." Harry mentally decided to put off boggarts until the next day, knowing that Katia would hate missing such an action filled class.

"Tell you what. Why don't we swing down the Muggle Studies corridor, pick up Professor Granger and I'll give it to her in person. Annika, Daniel?" Harry addressed the older two Gryffindors, a bit surprised they were still there. "Care to join us?"

"We're due in...Arithmancy," Annika said, distracted. "We'll see her tonight."

An hour later, Harry and Hermione left the hospital wing, arm and arm. "Poppy said David hasn't left her side since it happened," Harry commented.

"Were you any different, when it was me in there?"

"Not in third year," Harry said. "We were too young then. For pity's sake, you shoved me into a closet at the end of third year and all I did was pinch my own leg."

They were mere steps away from that broom closet and Hermione stopped short. "And what would you do now, as a wise old man?" she asked.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Actually, I would." Without further warning, Hermione placed both of her hands on his chest and pushed until they were safely enclosed in the darkened room. "You were saying?" she prompted once her arms were securely around him.

"Now who's acting like a crazed teenager?" Harry smiled against her lips so that she could feel it.

"Can't help what you do to me, Harry Potter," Hermione echoed his words from before.

The kiss was just becoming interesting when the door suddenly opened. "Honestly," Minerva's voice rang out in the Entrance Hall, now crowded with students returning to their dorms after dinner. "Don't you two have a house nearby?"

"Not close enough," Harry said, wrenching the door closed again. He and Hermione stayed there for a minute before opening the door back up. Minerva wasn't fooled, though. When they saw her again, she was standing in the same place with her arms folded.

"You're setting quite an example." Both of them could see the twitch on the corner of her mouth which meant she was hiding a smile.

"Now, Minerva," Harry said, grinning as he threw his arm around Hermione's shoulders, "snogging in the broom closets didn't start with us and it certainly won't end with us."

"How tragically true," she sighed, "but it would help matters if the two most famous professors weren't being continually caught attempting to devour each other."

Their good humor lasted until they arrived back at the house. There was a letter taped to the front door.

"Well, it's about time," Hermione said in mock disapproval. "Ginny was supposed to leave me these fabric samples ages ago."

But inside the envelope was a single, folded piece of paper.

Beloved,

Seeing you makes me smile.

Touching you is the light in a dark life.

Hearing you makes my heart tremble.

The sight of you with someone else makes me angry beyond all bearing. I know that you are trying to fight this spell you're under, but I haven't seen much to make me believe that you're fighting very hard. Have you forsaken me?

I'm sorry for sounding so insecure. I know I need to learn to trust our love. But it is so difficult when I see little to no progress.

Fight, my darling, fight for me. For us.

"Can we hope that this was left on the wrong house?" Harry asked after they'd finished reading.

"Sure we can," Hermione said feebly. "Just like we can hope that Snape and Sirius will one day shake hands and become friends."

"So, not bloody likely then."

"I'm afraid not."

*^*^*^*^*^

Ron still had Harry's letter in his clenched fist when he knocked on Faren's door. He was a bit surprised when it swung open at the touch of his knuckles.

"Faren?" he asked, poking his head around the door.

She was at the small writing desk near the open window and was writing furiously in a small book. She hadn't appeared to hear him, so he cleared his throat and called her name again. The girl jumped so high off of her chair, Ron suddenly wished he'd just backed out of the room and tried knocking again.

"Mr...Ron," she stammered, "I didn't hear you come in." Faren was clutching her chest with one hand and shoving the small book under a stack of papers with the other.

"I'm sorry. The door was ajar, so I..."

"No, it's all right. I was just...a little engrossed. What is it?"

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her what she'd been doing, but he had more to worry about than what the Potter's nanny did on her off time. "We were wondering if you'd mind watching Rianne for an hour or so. We have to run over to Harry and Hermione's, and Rianne's just fallen asleep."

"I wouldn't mind sitting with her at all," Faren assured him.

Five minutes later, Ron and Mariah were heading down the High Street towards the Potters house. Ron had his arm around Mariah's shoulder and she was leaning into him, trying to garner as much support from him as she could.

"Are you going to tell them now?" Ron asked, not sure if he really wanted the answer or not.

"I don't know, Ron. I don't know what to do. Then again, this could have nothing to do with any of Renae's prophesies. All Harry said was that there were things we needed to talk about and to come as soon as possible. He could be talking about nothing more than a summer holiday."

"Do you think that's likely?" Ron asked.

"No, but I can always hope."

They were about twenty feet from the Potters' front door when a person darted past them, heading towards Hogwarts. Ron had to steady Mariah as the woman nearly knocked his fiancée off her feet.

"I think that was Sara," Mariah commented, watching as the woman continued running.

"More Diviner intuition?" Ron teased lamely.

"Ha ha," she deadpanned. "I remember seeing her at the dedication. There's no mistaking that blonde hair of hers. It's nearly down to her waist."

"But what is she doing in Hogsmeade so late on a school night?"

"I don't know," Mariah answered vaguely. They had arrived at Harry and Hermione's front door and were looking at each other with equal mixtures of dread and support.

Whatever happens, Angel, I'm with you. Whatever you decide to say or not say.

Not wanting to be overheard by anyone inside, Ron directed this to her mind instead.

I love you, Ron Weasley.

Same goes, Mariah Weasley-to-be.

The small smile that lit her features was worth more to Ron than all the gold in Gringotts.

Hermione opened the door for them a moment later, and Mariah noticed that Ginny and Draco were already there. She should have guessed that they would be, but a part of her had hoped that they wouldn't. A part of her wanted to confess everything to Harry and Hermione, and for them to convince her that it was rubbish. Draco's presence, as well as his wife's, curtailed any thought of full disclosure.

Once Ron and Mariah had taken their seats, Harry stood, looked at the lot of them, and then sat back down again.

"Harry?" Ron asked, the same dread that was forming in Mariah's stomach now curling in his.

"We have a problem," he said from where he sat. Then, obviously deciding that pictures spoke louder than words, he merely passed a bit of parchment at them and sat back. The four of them peered over one another's shoulders to read the note.

Draco took out his wand, touched the parchment, and muttered an incantation under his breath. It shimmered with an eerie purple light for a few moments before going back to its original white appearance.

"Written by the same person," he concluded.

"I was afraid of that," Harry muttered, stealing an over the shoulder glance at Hermione.

"What was that spell, Draco?" Hermione asked.

"A little tracing charm. When a hand touches parchment, or paper in this case, it leaves some of the skin's essence on it, oils and what have you. Parchment is more porous and retains more, but as you could see, it worked just fine with Muggle paper as well."

"Can you tell who wrote it with this charm?" Harry asked, now sitting forward in his seat.

"Not with any degree of accuracy," Draco admitted. "We use this mostly to tie correspondence to people. Once caught, we have them write on a piece of parchment and compare the colors. Even that isn't readily accepted in the courts, though. Mostly, it's used to make sure we're on the right path."

"Have there been any other notes?" Ginny asked.

"Just the two," Hermione sighed, "why?"

"Because it looks to me like part of a discussion. Like this person has been talking to you or Harry for a while. For instance, when the writer says 'I know you are fighting,' that infers that one of you has said 'I'm fighting as hard as I can'."

"So, one of us has an admirer," Hermione said, as if hearing it from someone else confirmed her suspicions.

"Sounds more like a stalker to me," Ginny replied, and five pairs of eyes turned to her at once. "We did an article about stalkers recently. And this certainly fits the pattern. First there was a sweet, affectionate note. And now this, you can hear the writer's growing frustration at seeing the two of you together."

"What do we do, then?" Harry asked.

Ginny shrugged. "Without knowing who it is, or even who this writer is so taken with, there isn't much you can do except be on guard."

"On guard for what?" Mariah asked.

"Well, if this is a stalker, the letters would get more threatening. Anyone within a ten mile radius knows that Harry and Hermione are deeply in love, and show that affection openly. This stalker, if that's what he or she really is, is bound to find this upsetting."

"Or we go after the source," Harry said through gritted teeth.

"Harry James Potter," Hermione turned on her husband in a flash, "if you mention Jason I will hex you into the next millennia."

"You can't deny that he's taken with you, Hermione."

Hermione opened and closed her mouth without sound for a few seconds, then she sat and sighed deeply. "No," she admitted, "I can't. But you've got your fair share of admirers too, Harry."

As four of them batted names around, each more unlikely than the last, Mariah called to Ron. She knew he could see the barely controlled tears in her eyes and clasped her hand tightly in his.

Ron,

she said softly, and even her mind's voice quavered, this is it. This is what Renae saw. I have to tell them.

It's your choice, Angel, it always has been. But remember who you're telling. If you say that what you know is from divination, Hermione will scoff. I know her and her disdain for everything involved in future telling.

Even after what Sibyll told her seventh year?

Yes. I'm afraid that if you tell them what Renae said that they will, or at least Hermione will, discount it at the outset. It might even put her off her guard.

So...what? The option is to let them blunder on while this person, whoever it is, becomes more and more enraged?

Yes. And in the meantime, we do whatever we can to figure out who the stalker is and stop it. If I remember what Renae said, we already have a description. We couldn't act before because we didn't know for sure who was being targeted.

Oh Ron,

Mariah slumped again, I wish it were that easy. Powerful as Renae is, Knowing isn't that precise. Just because she saw a dark-haired woman doesn't mean that's who were looking for. It could be a man or a woman with any color hair. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I wish Renae hadn't left. I wish I could ask her to look, just one more time.

I know you do, love.

Mariah's dreams that night were the worst they'd ever been. Not long after she and Ron had finished discussing what they knew, the six of them had parted and returned to their own homes. Faren had been curious about what the late meeting was all about, but Ron told her it was merely wedding plans and she seemed appeased.

On the way home, Mariah had decided to try one last attempt to contact Renae or Kalena and set about drafting an owl the moment they were alone. Part of her knew there wasn't a prayer that either of them would respond, but felt it was the only thing she could do.

Once Pigwidgeon was on his way, Mariah curled into Ron and tried to turn her mind off enough to at least slip into a doze.

But she didn't doze. She dropped into a deep sleep almost immediately and found her dream self wandering again in a sea of white swirling mist. There were no visible people, only vague, dark gray outlines surrounding her. Their voices echoed from all sides with only occasional phrases distinguishable.

"Remember, Mariah....let it come, Ria....don't be afraid of it....unlock the doors, Mia...."

"No," she said feebly to the voices. They didn't stop. If anything, their voices grew louder. "NO!" she shouted, with the same effect. So she ran, ran from the shadows, ran from the words. Ran until she left the dream far behind her.

Ron, wide awake and feeling powerless against the latest nightmare to haunt her, simply held her tightly until her body ceased its wracking tremors. He knew from experience that she'd managed to shed the worst of it once she'd stopped shaking. Thinking she was finally in a place where she could rest, Ron let himself drift off.

The last thing he heard before sleep claimed him was a vague, mumbled "I won't."

*^*^*^*^*^*

Hermione stood vigil over the board duster as it wiped away the remnants of her day's lessons. This one had lived in her classroom since the Sorting Hat was still on Gryffindor's head and was as disagreeable as Peeves. And just about as destructive. The first day she'd used this classroom, it had zoomed around, knocking into her students until she'd frozen it in midair. They now had an agreement; it would clean her boards and she wouldn't dismantle it piece by piece.

Right now, however, she didn't particularly care if it did knock about her classroom for hours on end. She had exams coming up soon, in both her seventh year and fifth year classes. The late night summit three days ago was also lingering in the back of her mind. Nothing had been resolved that night except an hour of useless casting around of names, all of which had been discounted out of hand, either by her or by Harry.

She knew that Harry suspected Jason, which was ludicrous. They'd been at the Auror Institute together for three days, with Harry nowhere in sight, and hadn't made even the slightest overt gesture towards her. Hermione thought, and told Harry repeatedly, that he probably respected her for her work on the counter.

Harry still insisted on being all Alpha male about it. A small smile turned the corners of her mouth as she pictured Harry's green eyes and glasses on a smaller version of Sirius in dog form. That would teach him to...

"Hermione?"

Caught up in her own thoughts, Hermione didn't even hear the door to her classroom open. She smiled when she saw who it was.

"Jason, what a surprise! What brings you to Hogwarts?"

"I needed to talk to Harry about a student of his. She's applying to be an Auror and he wants an insider's opinion of her admissions essay."

There was something strange in his eyes as he spoke, though. Something...almost like he'd eaten something recently that wasn't agreeing with him. "Are you all right?" she asked, crossing to him, her eyes full of concern.

"I'm..." He stopped, and the look in his eyes stopped her as well. She'd only seen eyes like that once before in her life. In a cave not a mile from this room.

"Wh..what is it?" she stumbled, trying to make her voice sound as casual as possible.

"I'm not fine, Hermione," Jason said blankly. "I can't stand here and watch you throw your life away. I don't know what kind of spell that man has cast on you, but you're worth so much more than teaching brats all day. If you want to teach, come to the Institute and teach there. Instruct your peers on what you know best, fighting evil. Not electricity and cars and other such nonsense to a load of children that forget what you say the moment they leave this room."

Hermione stood in the middle of her classroom, torn between fear of what she felt emanating from this wizard and indignation over his words. She'd never backed down from evil before, and she wasn't about to now. Instead, she squared her shoulders and took two steps towards him.

"How dare you," she hissed at him, "what gives you the right to stand there and say such things to me?"

Jason took another few steps forward. "Can you honestly say that without Harry you'd be teaching here?"

"Probably not," she said calmly, "but without Harry I'd still be shelving books in an American library and wizards would still be in danger from Avada Kedavra."

"No, Hermione. You'd have never been there in the first place. It was only in helping him overcome Voldemort that you fell victim to that curse. Without him, you'd have finished your time at school ..."

"And Voldemort?" she interrupted.

Jason looked confused. As if the conversation wasn't going the way he'd intended. Hermione didn't know if this was a good thing or not. He moved towards her, closing the distance until she was forced to back up. With pure evil in his eyes, Jason continued to back her toward the wall, placing his hands on either side of her head once they'd stopped moving.

"I just can't bear it, Hermione. I can't stand by and watch you throw your life away like this."

"You have no say in the way I run my life, Jason." Hermione tried to duck under his outstretched arms, but Jason was faster. He clamped his hands on her arms and stilled her.

When he touched her, as she felt the pain from his grip, Hermione sensed the first stirrings of fear unfurl in her stomach. She might be clever, she might be a powerful witch...but he was bigger, stronger, and her wand was on the desk out of reach. Then she remembered a hot, hazy afternoon at the Burrow. A mock tickling, wrestling match. And her rather painful mistake as Harry had tickled her sides. Ron's squeal of pain.

With all of her might, Hermione raised her knee until it connected with Jason's crotch. Just as Ron had, Jason doubled over immediately. She'd just reached her wand when Harry came bolting into the room, panting and clutching a stitch in his side.

"Are you all right?" he gasped, reaching her side and facing Jason. "Sir Brian came straight to my room when he heard raised voices in here. The fireplace still doesn't work in here or I'd have been here sooner."

"I'm fine," she said, her shaky voice belying her words. "I think I may owe you an apology, though."

Harry was so glad to see Hermione unhurt, he didn't even comment. He was about to say something, though, when Jason righted himself.

"What is going on?" he asked, looking around the room, his brows knitted and eyes clear.

"Nothing that won't be solved by your leaving. And just to clarify, I mean leaving and never having any contact with my wife again. No notes, no visits, nothing," Harry said calmly, his voice icy and his wand pointed straight at the Auror's heart.

"What notes?" Jason asked, still confused. "How did I get into this classroom?"

Hermione felt Harry stiffen beside her, saw Jason's confused face, and rationally put two and two together. "What is the last thing you remember, Jason?"

"Eating breakfast at the Three Broomsticks before heading back home," he said softly, as if he was trying to backtrack his own memories to fill in the gaps.

"And when is the last time you remember seeing me?" she pressed.

"A few days ago. I came to your house to see if you were all right and to discuss the Dursley fire with Harry."

"You don't remember stopping back at the house later that afternoon?"

"What? No. I went back to my room and took care of some correspondence I've been putting off."

"Hermione," Harry said, keeping his voice low, "what are you getting at?"

"I think he's been under the Imperius curse, Harry."

Her husband tutted at her, but she shook her head and continued. "Much as it will irritate you, you have to admit that I know him better than you do, right?"

"Right," Harry admitted grudgingly and, as she predicted, irritably.

"Well, I saw the look in his eyes just now, Harry. The last time I saw hatred like that was in that cave seventh year. It wasn't Jason behind that look, I'm sure of it. I think my knee in his groin woke him up."

Harry debated the merits of asking Snape for a truth potion, but as he looked back at Jason, he realized it wasn't necessary. The man was clearly disoriented and confused, clear signs of one just coming out from under the haze of being controlled. He had seen that look so many times, on the faces of those close to him, during the height of Voldemort's rise. Much as he wanted to, he couldn't discount the evidence of his experience.

Together they led Jason to the hospital wing to make sure there were no lingering effects from being controlled for upwards of four days. Then they headed towards home.

Harry was quiet as they walked, his mind turning over and over the afternoon's events. If Jason had been under Imperius, then that left him without anyone acting suspicious towards his wife. That meant that she was probably right. That whoever was behind these notes was stalking him.

"What are you thinking," she asked softly.

"I'm thinking that you were right about Jason. I'm thinking that I'm probably the target of these letters. And I'm trying to figure out what I did, what impression I gave to someone, that is causing all of this to happen."

"Harry," Hermione squeezed her arm around his waist even tighter. "Remember what Ginny said, it could have been nothing more than a look to set this in motion. This person is seriously disturbed."

"Be that as it may, Hermione. Why would someone be sending those letters to me?" Hermione found a small measure of humor at Harry's complete ignorance regarding his own appeal. She also knew that he would find no humor in that at the moment.

Instead, Hermione replied, "I think the more important question is who is doing this rather than why it's happening, Harry."