Phoenix Intuition

Chapter Five

The next morning, wearing her visitor's pass as usual, Luna entered the Muggle Liaison office and greeted Colin and Dudley, "Hello, boys. Is anything happening?"

"In here, no," answered Colin. "In the world, a few things."

She gestured for them to explain; Dudley did. "The main thing is that America's getting more hostile to Iran. Iran is supposedly making nuclear weapons, so America claims. Nobody really believes them, since that was their reason for attacking Iraq, and they turned out to be wrong. But they act like they don't care, like that never happened. And since America is the strongest country in the world, everyone has to take them seriously, whether what they say makes any sense or not."

"Now, why do you follow this again? It has nothing to do with wizards."

"Arthur wants us to be well-versed in Muggle events," explained Colin. "We don't have to be experts, just to follow it every day. Anyway, this is important because it's one of the world's... what they call 'hot spots.' America and Iran have been antagonistic for a long time, and after invading Iraq, America has a whole lot of troops in a country right next to Iran, so America getting more antagonistic means more than it would most of the time. Arthur wants us to follow events like this and ask ourselves, if wizards were manipulating events, would we be able to tell? Is there anything that suggests that?"

"Is there?" she asked.

Both shook their heads. "This is an especially aggressive American president," said Colin. "Apparently he thinks he's going to bring democracy to the Middle East, and that the only way he can do it is by threatening to do it for them if they don't do it themselves."

"That's an exaggeration," said Dudley.

"Not much of one," countered Colin. "Anyway, normally American people don't get into this sort of thing, but nine-eleven sort of changed what they're willing to put up with. The president constantly talks about the 'war on terror,' and everyone agrees that Iran is a country that supports terror. Mainly terror against Israel, not America, but he doesn't say that so much. They're claiming that Iran is working on making nuclear weapons, and he said that America will take 'all necessary measures' to prevent that. In other words, they'll attack Iran if they don't stop."

"Do we know that this president isn't especially aggressive because he's been manipulated by wizards?"

Colin chuckled. "We could ask that about anyone, of course. I meant, more obvious manipulation than that. We hope we'd know it if we saw it."

"Has this department always done this, followed Muggle news this closely?"

"No, this is Arthur's idea. When he came in here he said he was amazed at how uninformed the people in the department were about Muggle society. Don't quote that," added Colin quickly. "He knows wizards really aren't going to manipulate Muggle events, but he thinks wizards have become too lazy about that, and should keep a closer eye on things."

"This is just the Ministry of Magic for England, though," said Luna, an obvious question for her article. "Why not just pay attention to how these things affect Muggle England, and not worry about the rest of the world?"

"Most people think that's only what Arthur should do," agreed Colin. "He thinks all countries' Ministries should do this, but they don't. We could get by with one less person if we didn't do this, but Arthur asked Bright for the budget for one more person, and Bright agreed. Which is no small thing, Undersecretaries and department heads are always fighting for more budget. We think Bright granted the request because of Arthur's connection to Harry, he wants to keep Harry happy, so he'll do what Arthur asks, within reason. We don't think Bright really cares whether we keep track of what Muggles are up to."

Luna nodded. "And I can put that into the article, right?"

Colin and Dudley laughed. "Better if you didn't," said Dudley.

* * * * *

Harry had a busy day; it was the first day of his first full week as the Hogwarts headmaster. He went to the headmaster's office for the first time; McGonagall's portrait was hung over the weekend, and he hadn't wanted to go in until it was. It was strange for him to talk to her portrait, but he didn't have much time to do so in any case. He didn't go home until six o'clock. He knew it wouldn't be like that every day, but was glad to get home.

James had spent most of the day with Molly, as Ginny had practice with the team; next Saturday's match would be a crucial one in deciding the season's championship. They talked about their day over dinner, and listened to James's attempts to increase his vocabulary. One of the first words he had learned other than 'Mummy' and 'Daddy' was 'Dobby,' which delighted Dobby no end.

After dinner, they went to the living room, where Ginny sat on the sofa while Harry sat on the floor with James, Summoning the colored blocks James sometimes played with. Harry held up one block at a time, asking "What color is it?" each time. James got each of the eight colors right, only the second time he had ever done it.

Harry decided to continue his efforts to teach James magic. Two was a very young age, but he had to start sometime. He picked up a white block. "What color is it?"

"White!"

"Good. Let's change its color. What color do you like?"

"Blue!"

"Okay, I'll do it, then you do it. Blue!" The block promptly turned blue, making James giggle. Harry picked up another white block. "Now, you do it. Make the block blue, you can do it. See it blue, make it blue. Say, 'blue!'"

"Blue!" James yelled enthusiastically, but nothing happened. Harry continued at it for a while, then had an idea. He Summoned a piece of chocolate from the kitchen. James had had chocolate before, but not so often; his eyes lit up.

"You can have this chocolate if you can make it blue," said Harry, his eyes conveying his confidence that James could do it.

"That's not very nice," murmured a smiling Ginny. "You can't give it to him if he doesn't do it."

"He'll do it," Harry mouthed. "Go ahead, James. Say, blue!" Harry had decided that it was too difficult to teach a two-year-old that all he had to do was think about what he wanted to see happen, so instead of focusing on a wand, he had James focus on the word. He knew that if James could do the spells without a wand, it wouldn't be that hard to, when he was a little older, explain that the word wasn't necessary.

"Blue!" shouted a determined James, but nothing happened. James tried for a few minutes, becoming increasingly frantic at the prospect of not getting the chocolate. "Blue! Blue! Blue!" James turned to Harry, sadness in his eyes. "I want chocate!"

"Oh, no, look at that face, those eyes," said Ginny sadly. "How are you going to not give it to him?"

"I'm sorry, James," said Harry sincerely. "You have to make it blue first."

"I want chocate!" James yelled. James had had crying fits, but had never thrown a tantrum; Harry wondered if that might change. Hoping to corral James's intensity, Harry quickly Summoned a white block. "Say blue!"

"Blue!!" James screamed at the block, which suddenly became a light but unmistakable shade of blue. Harry pumped his fist into the air in triumph, shouting "Yes!" Ginny looked amazed. Harry hugged James, kissed him, then gave him the chocolate. He reached up to the sofa and took Ginny's hand. "Do you know what this means?"

"No wands..." she marveled. "Are we going to take him to the Burrow, have him do it for Mum and Dad?"

Harry watched his son contentedly eat the chocolate. He reveled in the moment. "No. He knows he can do it now, and he will if he wants to. I wanted to know if he could do it, and I wanted him to know that he can do it. But as far as I'm concerned, if he doesn't do it for another year, that's fine. He'll be doing it on his own soon enough, and we'll be having to work out how to stop him from doing it when he shouldn't." Harry decided not to mention that what he'd just said were mostly Hermione's thoughts when he'd discussed it with her. He thought she was right, but there was no point telling Ginny every time some idea he had came from Hermione.

"Good point," she agreed. "Well, they'll be thrilled, especially Mum. I'll definitely be telling her tomorrow."

He noticed her relative lack of enthusiasm. "Are you happy?"

She sighed. "Of course. It's just... look, I don't want to talk about it right now."

The Malfoy thing, he thought, annoyed. Turning his head so James couldn't see his face, he looked at her with a pleading expression, but said nothing. Defensively, she whispered, "Don't look at me like that."

Mute, he cast his eyes downward. After a pause, he said, "I think I'll become a phoenix, entertain him a bit before he goes to bed."

"He won't be going to bed anytime soon, after that chocolate. And I suppose that after he does, you'll go for a fly, come back after I'm asleep? It's happened half the nights for the past two weeks." She looked at him sadly. "I remember a time when you were looking forward to spending nights with me. Looks like that time is over."

"That's not fair," he responded angrily, trying to control his emotions for the sake of not displaying anger in front of James. Both were still keeping their voices down. "This phoenix thing is very unusual, and I thought you were okay with what I was doing. You acted like you were."

"I didn't want to stop you from doing what you obviously wanted to do," she responded quietly but forcefully. "I just wish there wasn't such a big difference between how much you want to be a phoenix and how much you want to be around me."

"It's not like that."

"It feels like that to me."

Harry took a deep breath. This is the hard part about marriage, he thought. "I thought you wanted time alone."

"You thought that because that's what you wanted me to want. I take time alone, you go be a phoenix. Works well for you."

"Then I'll stop. I won't do it anymore for a while."

"And then you'll be with me, wanting to be a phoenix. That'll be good for my ego."

He was frustrated, feeling that nothing he could do would make her happy. "What do you want me to do then?"

"I don't know."

Harry moved from the floor and sat on the sofa next to Ginny, taking her hand. She looked at him suspiciously. "If I know you want to be with me, I won't be sitting here wanting to be a phoenix. I promise. I don't want you to feel like I don't want to be with you, because I do. Please believe that."

Ginny didn't say whether she did or didn't. "Whatever you may want, it ends up being the case that your phoenixing time comes when it would otherwise be with me. And you do want to be a phoenix, I'm not going to believe that you don't."

"How about this, then," he suggested. "We put my ability to stop time to good use. Every night after dinner, I'll stop time for a few hours, however long you want, just you and me. We'll talk, fly on the Firebolts, swim, do other things," he added, with a glance in the direction of the bedroom. "Whatever, just spend time together. Then if I want to be a phoenix, it didn't cost us any time together. What do you think?"

She thought for a minute, then nodded. "That sounds okay. We'll have to see how it goes, make sure it doesn't do bad things to our sleep schedules. Too bad you can't stop time as a phoenix. You really can't do any spells as a phoenix? I know phoenixes don't do magic, but your magic is all mental anyway, and your mind is the same when you're a phoenix."

"Not quite the same," he corrected her, happy that she was willing to give his solution a try. "It's similar, but my mind is a little different when I'm a phoenix. It's a little harder to think as I would as a human, harder to focus on things like facts, easier to get distracted by what it feels like to be a phoenix, which I think is why I'm often late getting back. For example, I can tell you what twelve times seven is if I think about it for a minute, but as a phoenix, I don't think I could. If I could, it would be a real effort, a lot harder than usual. Phoenixes don't think in terms of things like numbers, and my brain is changed a bit when I'm a phoenix."

"Interesting, I didn't know that. Have you told Hermione, or the Magical Research Institute?"

"No, I hadn't even thought about it exactly like that until now. But I'm supposed to give them an interim report in a few weeks, tell them about things I've noticed. Anyway, I have tried to do spells as a phoenix, but I can't. I agree, it would be pretty convenient. But I still think this can work. Do you want to start now?"

"No, I think I'm getting a bit tired, maybe I'll want to go to bed in an hour. Let's start it tomorrow. Would you mind not going out tonight?"

"Okay," he agreed. "I'd just like to do it a little to entertain James until he goes to bed, okay? I won't leave the house."

"All right," she conceded. Harry transformed, flew over to James and let James pet him. After a short while, Ginny put James to bed, and Harry sang for a few minutes. He knew he shouldn't do it too often, or else James might not be able to sleep without it, but once in a while might be okay. She turned out the light, and they left the room to go back to the living room. She pet him for a few seconds. "Okay, he's in bed, let's have human Harry back now."

"So this is a Muggle bar," said Luna, as they sat on stools at a small table, drinks in front of them.

"Yes, but be careful about using that word," said Dudley, just loud enough to be heard by Luna over the noise.

"All right," agreed Luna. She cleared her throat. "So this is a bar for people who don't use magic."

Colin burst out laughing. "Yeah, that's much better," said Dudley sarcastically.

"Nobody would think anything of it anyway," said Luna reasonably. "They'd just think I was being strange. And I'm used to that."

"Yes, well, they'd think I was strange for being around you," pointed out Dudley.

Luna raised her voice a little. "Not as strange as they'd think it was if they heard you worked for the Muggle Liaison office of the--"

"Will you stop that?" demanded Dudley in a loud whisper as Colin laughed again.

Luna smiled at Dudley. "You need to relax, Dudley. Don't worry so much about what people think."

Dudley grunted. "Too late for that. I was raised by a mother who thinks that what people think is really important. Dad too, but he only cares what the 'right' people think, but Mum cares about what anybody thinks, even if she thinks they don't matter. So, how is it that you don't care what people think? I mean, most people do."

"I don't know," she said, appearing to think about it. "I've just always been like this. I think it comes partly from my father. He once said that as long as I was true to myself, it didn't matter what other people thought."

"Harry thinks that was why she was the first person to learn the energy of love," said Colin. "In the class, she would say things that sounded strange to the rest of us, but Harry was always like, 'Very good, Luna,' like she was the only one really on the right track. Then when she got 100, the rest of us were like, huh, we just thought she was being strange. Then the rest of us tried to be more like her, which was very ironic."

"Only in the class, though," Luna interjected. "My fashion sense didn't catch on."

Colin laughed. "I always kind of liked that."

"So, you were good at the energy-of-love thing," said Dudley as he finished his drink. "Did that have to do with that trip you took? You said you stayed in Tibet for a year? Isn't that where they have all these temples and stuff?"

"They have more than that, but I didn't see much of the Muggle religious places," said Luna. "But the Tibetan wizards have a few retreats. I spent a lot of time at the same one Professor Dumbledore did when he was there sixty years ago. They said I was a prodigy."

"Really?" asked Colin, surprised.

Luna nodded. "What were you a prodigy at?" asked Dudley. "What could you do?"

"Contact the spiritual realm," said Luna. "You can do it if you have just the right state of mind. I think being in Harry's class helped me think, or not think, in the right way."

"Harry's tried to explain this 'spiritual realm' thing to me, but I don't get it that well," said Dudley. "I feel like you almost have to believe it just to understand what he's talking about."

"So, you can talk to spirits?" asked a fascinated Colin.

"Yes, but only a few. Most of them don't want to talk to me. Not me personally, just anyone here. I talked to my mum, and to this other spirit, the one who looks after me while I'm here. He doesn't tell me much, like if I ask about the future, but at least he's there. I can also go there and focus on people, get a feeling of what's going on with them."

"Really?" asked Colin. "What's going on with Minister Bright?"

"I should have said, I can do that with people I have a relationship with, who I know. I can't do it if I don't know them or barely know them. It's like, the part of me that's up there can contact the part of them that's up there. Most people just can't contact the part of themselves that's up there."

"What do you mean, part of... no, never mind, we'll be here all night," Dudley said, mostly to himself.

Colin was still interested. "Can you find out what's going on with, say, Harry?"

"Funny that you should pick Harry," said Dudley, grinning.

"I could, but it wouldn't be what he was thinking, it would just be a feeling, an emotional impression. I can get images, if my focus is really good. I don't know if I could do it in a noisy bar, though." She thought for a few seconds, then shrugged. "Well, I'll give it a try. It'll be a challenge. You two have to be quiet. Yes, I know, it's a noisy bar, but I can filter out the other voices more easily if I don't know them than I can if I know them and they're making jokes about me."

"We wouldn't make jokes about you," protested Colin.

"Not with you sitting right here, anyway," added Dudley.

Luna smiled. "That's so considerate. Okay, I'll try now." She closed her eyes, her hands on the table. Dudley and Colin were silent, though Dudley at one point tried to mouth something to Colin, who silently shushed him.

It took her a few minutes to ignore the noise of the bar, but she was soon in the state she'd practiced so much in Tibet. She focused on Harry, her feelings for him helping to seek him out. She found him... and unknowingly, she let out a small gasp. Her mouth was open slightly in surprise.

"What?" asked Colin.

She opened her eyes, which unusually for her, were troubled. "He's a phoenix right now. And, something's wrong."

"Harry, will you please change back?" said Ginny impatiently. "It's been two minutes since I asked, and I know you can hear me. If this is you just trying to make some point, then it's not very--"

Ginny stopped talking as she heard the popping sounds of two Apparations. Out of the Apparation area stepped Neville and Hermione, with expressions of concern. "Ginny, is he all right?"

"Of course he's all right, he's a phoenix, he just won't come back," said Ginny. "What's going on? Did he ask you two to come here?"

Hermione nodded. "He asked Flora to tell me, he knows you don't know, and he can't tell you. Something is really wrong."

"What?" asked Ginny, already both annoyed and confused, now anxious as well.

Hermione and Neville sat on the sofa as Harry jumped up into Ginny's lap; she absently petted him. "He's been trying to transform back into a human. He can't. He's... stuck, for some reason."

Ginny was dumbstruck. "What?" she asked in disbelief.

"I know, it's strange, but it's true. I've never heard of anything like this before in an Animagus, but I haven't totally researched it. He told Flora to tell me that he tried to transform back as soon as you asked him, and it just didn't work. He sent out... like a distress call to the other phoenixes, wanting to know if they could help, or if he was doing something wrong, but they couldn't tell him anything. Then he asked Flora to tell me to come here, to tell you."

Ginny was still flabbergasted. "What, is he going to stay a phoenix for the rest of his life, now?"

"I just don't know," said an unhappy Hermione.

Ginny closed her eyes in frustration. "I don't believe this, I just do not believe this... we have to find out what's going on."

"Ginny... look, I'm sorry, but it could be anything. Maybe it's just temporary. No one has ever become a magical animal before, so we just don't know how this works. The only thing I can think of to do is go to Hogwarts' library and research Animagi, any case where they couldn't transform back. I'll go directly to the library and start researching it."

"I'm going with you," said Ginny urgently. At Hermione's doubtful look, Ginny added, "I know I'm not the best researcher in the world, but I need to do something. Neville, could you stay here and look after James? He's asleep, but I don't want to leave him alone."

"Sure," agreed Neville. "Go on, I'll look in on him every once in a while."

Harry took flight, offering his tail feathers to Ginny and Hermione. "I never thought I'd be using Harry for travel like this," muttered Hermione. "But it is the fastest way, right now." They grabbed his feathers, and were very soon in the Hogwarts library. It was dark, but Harry had placed them right near the stacks containing information about Animagi. "I'm surprised he knew," said Hermione to herself. She and Ginny used their wands as flashlights, and started looking; Hermione pulled down six books, and they headed for the tables. Ginny Summoned some lamps for light.

"I wish Professor McGonagall were here," said Hermione as she started looking through the first book, and handed one to Ginny. "If anyone would know about this, she would."

Harry disappeared, and returned with a surprised Severus Snape. "Would one of you mind telling me what is going on, since he will not?"

"He can't. He's stuck as a phoenix, he can't change back. I assume he brought you here hoping you could help. We're trying to work out what happened, how to get him back," explained Hermione.

Snape raised an eyebrow and glanced down at Harry, who was perched on the back of a chair near Snape. "Trapped as a phoenix, how terrible for you. Are you sure he truly cannot return, that this is not an excuse to--aaaahh!" He shouted in pain and jumped back as Harry poked him in the arm with his long, sharp beak. He pointed at Harry. "Don't do that again," he warned.

Ginny glared at Snape. "I think he was saying that now isn't the time for jokes at his expense, and I agree. If you don't want to help us, he'll take you back."

Snape sighed. "Very well. I assume, Professor Granger, that you have already considered the possibility that this is unknowable, due to the uniqueness of his situation." She nodded. "If we set that aside, there is only one possibility that I know of. There is a very rare and old potion which, when given to an Animagus, can cause this effect. It has been very rarely used, in part because there are so few Animagi and in part because its use is considered murder, legally speaking. The last time it was known to have been used was over two hundred years ago, and there is no known counter-agent. It is difficult to believe that this potion was used in this situation, however."

"Because getting Harry to take it would be really difficult," supplied Ginny.

"Indeed," agreed Snape. "Though it would not be strictly necessary for him to ingest it. It can be made in such a way that mere contact with the skin would be enough, but even then, it is difficult to imagine that it could be accomplished." He turned to Harry. "Has anything happened in the past two weeks which would fit this theory?"

Harry shook his phoenix head back and forth slowly. "I didn't think so," admitted Snape. "Again, this may not necessarily be the culprit; it could be temporary, or something to do with his being a phoenix. But this could be the precursor to a wave of magical crime, or the emergence of a new wave of Dark magic about to burst forth."

Hermione slowly nodded. "You mean, if some group wanted to carry out some attacks, things like that, they would first want to get rid of Harry, since he could stop them better than anyone could. If we start seeing killings, or disappearances..."

Snape nodded his agreement. "Like the ones in America. This is all speculation, but it fits, so far. If this happens, it will be strongly suggestive of an attack on Professor Potter rather than an unfortunate coincidence. I will talk to Mr. Shacklebolt tomorrow, and get his thoughts."

"Never mind all that, what can be done for Harry?" asked Ginny anxiously.

"He is not exactly suffering, but I take your meaning," acknowledged Snape. "For now, nothing. He may suddenly develop the ability to return to human form at any time; doing anything would be very premature. I know that is not the answer you want to hear. But even if we wanted to do something, there is nothing to be done."

Ginny sighed deeply in frustration. "Can you develop a counter-potion, if it is this thing?"

Snape shook his head. "Even if I could, it probably would not work. Phoenixes are very resistant to magic of all kinds, probably including potions."

"But a potion may be what got him into this!"

"Yes, but if so, that was a potion he received as a human, where he is susceptible to potions. I will look into it promptly, but I am pessimistic that such a thing could be successful. Furthermore, anything I develop would necessarily be untested, and its effect on a phoenix would be totally unknowable."

Ginny put her head into her hands, apparently trying not to cry. Hermione put a hand on Ginny's shoulder. "We'll work it out, Ginny," she said. "This is Harry, after all. You can bet that no effort will be spared to deal with this. He'll be back. It just may take some time." Ginny nodded, hoping rather than believing that Hermione was right. "Ginny, why don't you go home, Neville will stay with you. Professor Snape will help me here. It's going to be hard for you to concentrate anyway."

Ginny reluctantly agreed, and Harry took her back to their home. "We're not going to find anything useful here, are we," Hermione said to Snape.

"Probably not," agreed Snape. "It is a worthwhile use of time, however. We must become as well versed in the nuances of Animagi as possible, even though his being a phoenix goes well outside of most of what is known about them. The more I think about this, the more convinced I am that this was an action taken against Professor Potter. I do not think it was a coincidence that the headmistress died so very recently. If I were a criminal who was planning to take this action against Professor Potter, it would make sense to remove the person who could best help restore him. My suspicion that her death was not natural is becoming stronger."

"There's not much we can do about that," said Hermione.

Yes, there is, thought Snape. "No, there is not," he agreed. They continued their research in silence.

Harry stayed with Ginny for the rest of the evening. She had a difficult time falling asleep, but he sang to her, and she finally fell asleep two hours later than usual. When she finally fell asleep, he took flight and teleported into the night air. He soared through the air, his mind preoccupied.

He had poked Snape partly because it was an unkind comment and one that Ginny didn't need to hear, but also because there was a small amount of truth to it. Not that he really could transform back, but that his situation was not unpleasant. He felt pangs of guilt, as though his wanting to spend as much time as possible as a phoenix had caused this, even though he knew better. But Albus used to say that we create our own reality, to a great extent, he thought. Did I create this somehow? Did I somehow take myself away from Ginny because I preferred being a phoenix, and was tired of how she was being lately?

He got impressions, feelings, though he didn't know where they came from. There is no point to guilt, they said. Your love for Ginny has not changed. Anyone would be entranced by becoming a phoenix, and most would delve into the experience. You have responsibilities which make that difficult. If you feel that what you have done is wrong, you can make new choices.

He wondered where the impressions had come from, if another phoenix had been talking to him. Suddenly another phoenix was flying next to him; he recognized it as the one that had joined him over the Himalayas. That was not a phoenix, the other one sent. Come with me to the gathering place, and I will explain. He disappeared, Harry following in a second.

They set down on the ground, near the stream. Harry and the other phoenix sipped from the water. There is another way we can communicate, the other sent. Reach out to the Source, but focus on your human personality. The Source was the word Harry had assigned to the phoenixes' way of referring to the spiritual realm, because the impressions they sent felt like the idea of 'the place from which all originates.' Focus on the Source, the phoenix sent, imagine you are talking to me as if you were a human.

Will that help me become human again? he asked.

That is not its purpose. It will help us communicate better.

Harry sent his acknowledgment, and did as he was asked. The spiritual realm seemed very close and easy to access, as was always the case when he was a phoenix. He could feel himself there, feel it all around him. Nothing but peace and love. Then, to his surprise, he saw a face, a human face. It was very old; he recognized it as Asian. To his further surprise, he heard the man speak, in words.

"This is my human appearance," the man said. "I am, as you are, a phoenix Animagus. I have discovered, as you have, that magic is a bridge between humans and the spiritual realm. We use magic to do in the physical plane what we do effortlessly in the spiritual realm: exercise our creativity. Understanding what we do, it becomes very natural for us to take this form when we become an animal."

Harry felt he should be astonished, but the way the man put it, it made sense. "Are you and I the only two?"

"For now, yes," the man said. "The spiritual realm is where that impression you received was from. Specifically, from your 'higher self.' As a phoenix, it is much easier to be in contact with your spiritually based elements. You simply did not know where the information was coming from."

"So, I was sort of talking to myself. That's where my 'phoenix intuition' comes from?"

"Yes, but 'phoenix intuition' comes from the same place as normal human intuition; it is simply easier to access when one is a phoenix."

"Why is it that we don't know the reason for things? I spent most of the evening with Ginny; she was really upset, frustrated, and a little angry. I wanted to bond with her, I wanted to be able to make her feel better. But my intuition said that I shouldn't do it, and it didn't say why. Why doesn't it tell us why?"

"Our higher selves do not give us specific information regarding physical existence which we could not discover with our standard senses," the old man explained. "If we could simply know any information we wanted to know, life would be very different, and not as rewarding. For example, your friends are now searching for a way to restore you to your normal human form. If a solution were to suddenly appear from the spiritual realm, they would have faced no challenge. Solutions to life's problems must come from ourselves, from the physical realm."

"Is there a solution to this problem?"

"I cannot address that. If there is, it will have to come from yourself or your friends. You are still living a human life, so there are things you should not be told."

Harry sighed. "I can understand that. It's a lot like what Albus used to say." He caught a fleeting impression of recognition. "You knew Albus?"

The other nodded. "I taught him. He told you about the time he came to see me."

"Did he know that you could do any magic you wanted? That you were a phoenix?"

The old man shook his head. "On the physical plane, I divulge that information very rarely."

"Have you ever had a burning day?" Harry asked.

"I'm sorry, but I cannot tell you that, either, because it relates to your situation. I understand your reason for asking, however."

Harry sighed internally. He had been hoping that the man might say yes, which would mean that Harry would have one as well. He recalled from Reborn From the Ashes that phoenixes tended to have burning days once every fifteen to twenty years, but if he lived as a phoenix for the same amount of time he would have lived as a human, he might not have one for fifty or sixty years. Either was too long; he would not see Ginny as a human again, or at least for too long a time.

"I feel like I wouldn't mind living the rest of my life as a phoenix, if it weren't for the people I'd leave behind, like Ginny," he said. "I couldn't do that to her."

"Disregarding for a moment what your human friends would want, if you could be human again, would you?"

Harry thought. "Yes. I love being a phoenix, but I love Ginny and my friends, too. I don't want to leave them."

"Then it seems to me that you have nothing to feel badly about," observed the First. He realized he was engaging in a mild deception by showing Harry his oldest human appearance rather than his current one, but showing the current one would cause Harry to easily understand that he could have a burning day. Harry would have to discover that on its own, and choose to take whatever risks were involved one way or the other. The First knew that a human life had to have risks, and Harry was still living a human life. The First took human form now and then, but had not truly lived a human life in centuries. Being a phoenix was far preferable.

Hermione and Snape continued their research until two in the morning; neither got more than four hours of sleep that night. Hermione suggested to Snape that he might be a better choice as temporary headmaster until Harry returned, but Snape declined, suggesting that Hermione was better suited, and could handle it. Hermione was on no better than polite terms with Snape for the most part, but she appreciated his confidence.

She used Flora to summon the other teachers for a meeting in the staff room at seven-thirty the next morning, and told the stunned assemblage what had happened. There was discussion about what to tell the students; Hermione decided that they would tell the truth, on the principle that lying was to be avoided whenever possible. They discussed what to do about Harry's Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. Today's classes would be canceled, and they would go day by day. Hermione suggested Remus as a temporary replacement; Snape objected on the grounds that though Harry's efforts had somewhat improved the reputation of werewolves, having one around children would be another matter entirely in parents' minds. Hermione was inclined to dismiss Snape's point as a remnant of his grudge against the Marauders until, to her surprise, Dentus said he tended to agree. It would be a political risk, he felt, and she would need all the political help she could get if Harry didn't return soon. Unhappy, she left the matter for further consideration.

Harry then showed up in the staff room, sending impressions to Hermione via Flora. She explained to the other teachers that until a replacement for him was found, he wanted the classes to show up as usual, for what would be a D.A.-style session. He, as a phoenix, would choose a leader by setting on that person's shoulder. For third-years and below, he would find a leader from among the older students who didn't have a class at the time.

His first scheduled class was seventh year Gryffindor/Slytherin. Hermione had addressed the students in the Great Hall ten minutes before eight, and explained how Defense Against the Dark Arts would work. The stunned students took their seats at eight, and were even more surprised to see Harry as a phoenix suddenly appear in mid-flight, Pansy holding his tail. He set her down, then perched on her shoulder.

"Hi, everyone," she said, in her familiar green Healer's robes. "Harry asked me to stop by for a few minutes. I just found out this morning, and I'm probably as surprised at what's happened as you are." Augustina interrupted with a question about Harry's disposition, and a few more followed up as Pansy each time waited for Harry's answer, relayed to her through Red, the phoenix she now companioned.

"Okay, now, as I was saying," she finally said, trying to pre-empt any more questions. "Harry will be around for a little bit of each class, but not the whole time, since there isn't much he can do. He can give yes or no answers if you ask him questions. If he can't answer with a yes or a no, or he doesn't know, he'll flap his wings a little."

Harry promptly took flight, and landed on Helen's shoulder. She stood and walked to the front of the class, pleased but nervous. "Harry says," explained Pansy, "that he chose Helen because he knows her father's already taught her some of the things he was going to be teaching. But he also says that you," now addressing Helen, "should do whatever you want. If you want to practice things like dueling, that's fine too. Don't just do what you think he would do." Still perched on Helen's shoulder, Harry looked out into the class as he waited for Red to send his impressions and images to Pansy, who had to translate them. Not particularly trying, he saw the students with the phoenix sense that could see a person's mood and character, which they used in order to choose whom to companion. He was surprised to sense that some of the other seventh year Slytherins were a little resentful at Helen being chosen, though they had expected it.

"Okay, I need to go, I'm supposed to be at St. Mungo's in a few minutes. Nice to see you all again." Harry took her away, then came back to observe the lesson. He thought Helen did a fine job in overcoming her nervousness and starting the class on one of the spells her father had taught her. He observed the Slytherins more closely, and discovered that their resentment was directed equally at Helen and Hedrick. It wasn't strong resentment; they were friends, and the feeling wasn't close to the surface. Harry supposed it was similar to what Ron had felt toward him at times when they were at Hogwarts, that Harry constantly overshadowed him. Harry hadn't known that some of the Slytherins felt that way about Hedrick and Helen, but he supposed it made sense, since they were Head Boy and Girl, and had been a couple since fourth year. He hoped it wouldn't cause any problems, but he didn't sense that it would.

* * * * *

At three o'clock, after his last class of the day, Snape spoke into his pendant. "Shacklebolt."

He waited a minute for the response. "Professor. What can I do for you?"

"We need to talk. How soon can you be at the trees outside the Hogwarts gates?"

A pause. "Fifteen minutes."

"I'll be waiting." Snape tapped the pendant again, closing the connection. Snape knew he needn't tell Kingsley to keep it quiet; requesting a secluded meeting place was enough.

Snape walked out of the castle and through the gates, arriving at the trees in ten minutes. Kingsley arrived a few minutes later. "Professor."

Never one for small talk, Snape got right to the point. "What happened to Potter yesterday has caused me to strongly suspect that the headmistress's death was not a natural one."

"I had the same thought," agreed Kingsley. "Hard to miss, when you think about who might have been able to help Harry. She was the Animagus expert, probably the best in England and the continent. I assume you're offering your services."

Snape nodded. "I believe you have no Legilimens in your Auror ranks."

"Kind of hard to recruit them. Normally, I'd get Harry to do it, if he would..."

"Ironically, her death was less suspicious until he was incapacitated. I will, of course, be looking for a Memory Charm. I will need one of Potter's artifacts to break it without causing harm." Harry's summer project a year ago had been to use his magical ability to create artifacts. It had taken a good deal of study and practice, and help from Kingsley, Snape, McGonagall, and others, but had finally managed a few. The most useful one was able to painlessly break Memory Charms when wielded by a Legilimens. He had made a few copies of it.

"I have one," said Kingsley.

"Why do you have one?" asked a puzzled Snape. "You can't use it."

"There is a Ministry Legilimens," Kingsley reminded Snape. He wasn't referring to Minister Bright, but a Legilimens known to Bright who Bright had used on a few occasions. "Harry wanted me to be able to use it with someone else if I wanted to, but he wanted me to have control over whether and how it was used."

"He didn't give me one," Snape muttered, annoyed.

"He didn't assume you'd be going out on missions," Kingsley reminded Snape.

"Or he doesn't think I should," added Snape. "Well, if he doesn't, too bad. When do we go?"

"I'll try to track down Wyatt. I'll call you when I find him."

"I'll be in Hogsmeade," said Snape, then walked away. He heard the sound of Kingsley Disapparating behind him. Both knew that Snape was going to Hogsmeade so that he would be able to Disapparate away when Kingsley called, which he couldn't do from Hogwarts.

As Snape walked, he reflected that it felt good to be able to do something to get to the bottom of McGonagall's death. He'd had a great deal of respect and affection for her, though he never would have been willing to show it. He knew she knew, though, and that she was as content as he to leave such things unspoken. Harry might have his classes blathering about their feelings to be able to use the Killing Curse shield and other spells he'd discovered, but he preferred people like McGonagall, who valued a certain reserve.

Snape also was pleased to do something to help Harry, which this might; if they could find McGonagall's murderer--that it was murder was becoming more and more certain in Snape's mind--they might be one step closer to finding out how Harry was put out of action. Despite Snape's professed feeling that personal debts were a quaint notion, he strongly felt one toward Harry, who had released the grip the Cleansing had on him, which had made his life as close to a living hell as he preferred to contemplate. He knew he could never repay Harry, and didn't try. He regretted the joke he'd made that had prompted Harry to poke him in the arm; he knew that he'd been trying too hard to compensate for the concern he'd felt, which he would never verbalize. Harry might have given him back the capacity to have any emotion, but he still wasn't comfortable with some of them.

It hadn't taken Drake, wandering Diagon Alley in disguise, long to start hearing people talking about it. "I heard Harry Potter is stuck as a phoenix!" "He can't become a human again!" "His poor wife!" "Can they reverse it?" "I don't know." "Why can't he do it himself?"

Because phoenixes can't do magic, you nitwits, Drake thought. He savored the moment. "Now, the fun begins," he muttered under his breath. He Disapparated back to America. He would tell Malfoy to commence the first operation.

Snape got the call after an hour of wandering Hogsmeade. Kingsley gave him the location, and they were soon together. "Is he alone?" asked Snape.

Kingsley nodded. "His wife's out, which is inconvenient; she could come back at any time. We'll have to take him to the bedroom."

"He is a fairly prominent person," remarked Snape. "I assume you plan to be subtle."

"Oh, yes," Kingsley replied with a small smile.

It was a small but nice-looking house, with a small garden in the front yard, surrounded by a small fence to keep away children and dogs. Kingsley and Snape approached the front door, Kingsley looking at a monitoring device. "He's in the dining room, he won't see us come in." Kingsley cast spells on the door to cause it to make no noise; he could blast it in with a Reductor Curse and no one would hear it. He tried the door, and to his surprise, it was unlocked. He exchanged a glance with Snape, and opened it.

They entered the living room; Kingsley motioned to the left, indicating where Wyatt was. Kingsley took one more look at his monitoring device to get Wyatt's location, then reached around the doorframe with his wand and shot off a Stunning Spell. Wyatt slumped forward in his chair, onto the desk.

"Very subtle," said Snape dryly.

"I thought so," agreed Kingsley. "The important point is that he never saw us." Snape understood what Kingsley meant; even if you planned to give someone a Memory Charm, you still tried to make sure the memory wasn't damaging. You always had to assume the Memory Charm could be found and broken, as they were about to do.

Kingsley levitated him to the bedroom and laid him out on the bed. Snape cast Legilimens, found the Memory Charm, and activated Harry's artifact. Snape knew better than to hope that someone had carelessly left behind an incriminating memory, however, and he was right. Discouraged, he put down his wand.

"He was attacked, and the memory he had wasn't genuine," Snape reported. "He woke up, found her body, and thought he had seen it happen. His apparent attacker was, I believe, a Ministry worker of middle rank. I strongly suspect that this was not the true attacker, however."

Kingsley nodded. "Took one identity, knocked out Wyatt, took his identity, sat through the meeting, took McGonagall aside, pinched her heart, woke up Wyatt and gave him the false memory. Very tidy. The next thing, of course, is to work out what was done to Harry. We need to--" He was cut off as his pendant sounded a quiet alarm. "What?"

"Attack in progress at Diagon Alley!" reported an Auror.

Startled, Kingsley glanced at Snape. "Go," said Snape. "I'll finish up."

Kingsley hated to leave an Auror operation in the hands of a non-Auror, but he knew Snape was a professional and could be trusted, or else he wouldn't have taken Snape along in the first place. He nodded and Disapparated.

Lucius Malfoy felt alive, powerful, almost intoxicated. He had killed four times, all wizards, without the ring being yanked from him after each time. He couldn't wait to get it back and kill again.

The ring had become a rumor in the wizarding community almost five years ago, when Harry Potter had talked about its role in Dumbledore's defeat of Grindelwald. The ring caused a wizard's power to increase for a few days if he killed while wearing it; the wearer actually absorbed some of the victim's life energy. The wearer of the ring could go on a killing rampage, and get stronger and stronger. The catch, however, was that the effect was addictive. Forty-eight hours after one killed, one felt depressed and weak for a few days if one didn't kill again while wearing it.

Potter had talked about it because he thought it had been well and truly disposed of, and that was what Dumbledore had thought as well. What they had not known was that the artifact-maker responsible for its creation had created other artifacts. The most important one, Drake felt, was the one that could summon any of the others created by the same man. Soon after Voldemort was defeated, he found that one, buying it from someone who didn't know exactly what it did. Drake didn't either, but soon found out. When he summoned the ring, it didn't take him long to figure out what it did. He killed once while wearing it, as a test, and thereafter resolved never to do it again. He could not afford to have his judgment become compromised. He knew, however, that it would make an excellent tool, matched with the right person.

A year and a half later, he had the good fortune to run across Lucius Malfoy, courtesy of one of the other artifacts made by the same man, one that caused the wearer to be able to see through Polyjuice Potion. Malfoy had been working with some Dark artifact dealers. Drake managed to get him alone and knock him out. Malfoy was perfect for Drake's purposes: Drake wanted a killing weapon, and Malfoy wanted nothing more than to kill. It had taken Drake longer than usual to break Malfoy, but with the combination of the carrot of killing with the ring, and the stick of the Cruciatus Curse, Drake was able to do it. He had even allowed Malfoy to become addicted to the ring once, just to make sure that Malfoy would still follow his instructions while in the midst of its euphoric effect. Until now, Drake had set the central artifact to call the ring home after every use. Now, things were different. He would call it every once in a while, but he would allow Malfoy to become addicted. Now he wanted a powerful weapon.

Another highly useful aspect of having Malfoy was that he offered the possibility of a kind of psychological warfare, and a bit of misdirection. It was always good to keep the enemy off balance.

* * * * *

Kingsley was stunned. "The Dark Mark?"

Justin Finch-Fletchley nodded. "Terry and I got here just in time to see it for ourselves." Justin was one of the five Aurors who referred to themselves as the 'Class of '98' because he, Ron, Neville, Susan Bones, and Terry Boot had all come from the Hogwarts class that graduated in the summer of 1998; it was the most Aurors that had come from any one Hogwarts class in eighty years. The class of '99 had three, and the class of 2000 had two in training.

Kingsley shook his head in amazement. "Just gets stranger and stranger," he muttered. "Okay, you two continue patrolling Diagon Alley until further notice. Steve, Tonks, and Diana will join you. Five others will be sent to Hogsmeade."

"Okay." Uneasily, Justin asked, "Kingsley, do you think there is any chance--"

"No," said Kingsley firmly. "Voldemort is dead, Harry and Hermione saw it with their own eyes. This almost has to be Lucius Malfoy. You know what he looks like, right?"

"We've all seen his picture many times," Justin affirmed. "But I don't suppose we'll be doing any Polyjuice checks, even on suspicious-looking people?" There was a spell that checked for the use of Polyjuice Potion, but its use caused the recipient to feel a small shock. Not debilitating, but the kind of thing that would cause an uprising if done to enough random Diagon Alley shoppers.

"Not for now, no," agreed Kingsley. Kingsley knew that such a thing would only be tolerated after a certain number of people had died. "I'm going back to headquarters. Keep your eyes open."

In less than an hour, he met with other senior Aurors, Snape, Hermione, and Harry, who Hermione warned them would have some difficulty following the conversation if it became too long or difficult due to phoenixes' inability to deal with fact-oriented matters well. Harry and Hermione assured them that Voldemort was dead, and while Snape could not say with any certainty that the culprit was Lucius Malfoy, he was the only logical suspect; Snape thought it was highly likely that other than himself, Malfoy was the only living wizard who could summon the Mark.

"The only conceivable objective is terror," continued Snape. "That was the purpose of the Dark Mark originally, of course, but this is a different kind of terror. Malfoy--let us assume for the moment that it is he--does not so much want us to think that Voldemort is back, but he wants the wizarding population to think so. With Professor Potter sidelined, they will be more inclined to think that."

"Do you think he has an organization?" asked Dawlish. "Is he going to style himself the new Dark Lord, who succeeded even where the old one couldn't--getting rid of Harry Potter?"

"That is the question," agreed Snape. "Malfoy is cunning, so if anyone could put Professor Potter out of action, there is no reason it could not be him. It is hard to imagine him doing such a thing by himself, however. I think it likely that he has built some organization. As for his public image, so to speak, the Dark Mark suggests that he wants one of a sort, but I would be surprised in that case that he has not developed one of his own, not one so associated with his old master. His use of the Dark Mark is not suggestive of a need for ego gratification on Malfoy's part, but rather, terror and subterfuge. It is difficult to develop a firm profile, even if we assume it is he."

"Would you give us a profile of Malfoy's talents?" asked Kingsley.

"His magical power is above-average, but not great; perhaps in the top-twenty percentile. He has good aptitude at all Dark spells, especially the Unforgivables. He is neither a Legilimens nor an Animagus. He is more skilled than most who had been Cleansed at presenting the appearance of a normal person. His magical knowledge is above average. Some of his fortune survived his service with Voldemort, so he could have used it to help build his own following. It is difficult to see, however, how he could have attracted particularly talented wizards, since he himself is not one. In other words, he is no Voldemort."

"How effectively could he do the Killing Curse silently?" asked Cassandra.

"I believe he always vocalized it," answered Snape. "So, we do not know, but it is a reasonable guess that he vocalized it because he needed to."

"Or, maybe just because he liked to," suggested Hermione.

"Indeed," agreed Snape. "I should also add that we should keep a particular eye on Healer Parkinson. Professor Potter," he added, turning to the phoenix perched on the back of Hermione's chair, "You should let Red know that she may be in unusual danger; he may want to stay closer to her than usual." Harry nodded.

"You're referring to what Voldemort said outside the Ring of Reduction, that he might let Malfoy take Draco's revenge on Pansy," said Hermione, concerned. "How much of this do you think might be revenge for Draco's death? Do you think that's why he went after Harry, since it was Harry that captured him?"

Snape shook his head. "We cannot know, since he had to deal with Professor Potter to do anything in the first place. I would not place revenge high on the list of his motivations, as we can say with reasonable certainty that he did not love his son. Draco was to him more of a protégé, one who failed in his tasks, as he was captured. Lucius would have later learned that his son had been disobeying instructions when he was caught, and felt that to an extent he deserved his fate. Revenge would be more an excuse for violent action than a reason, but Lucius needs neither a reason nor an excuse to commit violence. It is simply prudent to keep a close watch on Healer Parkinson."

"If it is Malfoy, will he continue this?" asked Kingsley, though he was sure he knew the answer.

"Almost certainly," agreed Snape. "The only question is whether he will continue killing in the shadows, or whether he will kill openly in public places, with witnesses."

"We'll continue the Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade patrols, Shield Aurors only," said Kingsley, using the Auror shorthand to refer to the two dozen Aurors who could use the energy of love, and so put up Killing Curse shields. "Cassandra, set up a patrol schedule. Hermione, I'd strongly suggest that you call a Prophet reporter, go to the Ministry and make a public statement affirming that Voldemort is dead. It'd be good to have Harry on your shoulder to emphasize the point, and that he's following the events."

"Okay, I will," she said, none too happy with the idea; while not quite as media-shy as Harry, she had never liked the idea of being a public figure. As a twenty-two year old Hogwarts headmistress, even a temporary one, she definitely was now. "By the way, Harry has an idea. He's suggesting that we recruit people who can use the shields to patrol as well, a few hours each, as volunteers. They'd be anonymous, and could help the security of those places."

Kingsley nodded. "Not a bad idea, though there would still be risks involved. We don't know that someone working with Malfoy doesn't use Legilimency, and their identities could be discovered; they could become targets. If this is done, they should be made very aware of the risks. It should also be very quiet."

Hermione agreed, and the meeting ended soon thereafter. What a time to become the Hogwarts headmistress, she thought. Thank goodness Hogwarts is safe.

Forty-five minutes later, Hermione stood behind a conjured lectern in the Atrium at the Ministry of Magic. Six reporters stood three meters from her, and several dozen interested Ministry employees had gathered to hear what she had to say. Among them were Arthur, Colin, and Dudley. As she set up, she made eye contact with them and gave them a slight nod.

"Thank you for coming," she said to the journalists, most of whom she knew. To the one she didn't, she said, "Excuse me, what's your name and publication, please?"

"Walter Allen, Moon and Stars."

Her eyebrows rose; the main daily American wizarding paper? She held back any comment. "I see, thank you. My reason for coming here today is to comment on the Dark Mark many wizards saw a few hours ago. I'm sure many people are wondering whether this signifies an action by Voldemort. As one of the last two people to see him alive, and who saw him walk through the Veil of Mystery to his death, I am here to state emphatically that whoever--" She paused as Harry burst into view, flew for a second, and settled on her shoulder to scattered applause from the Ministry employees. "This is Harry, of course, and he's here to lend his voice in support of--"

She cut herself off again as Harry started to sing. He's getting better, she thought. She smiled and decided to wait him out; he sang for less than a minute, then stopped, to stronger applause. She turned her head towards him and said, "When I said 'lend his voice,' I didn't mean it literally, you know.'" There were scattered chuckles from the Ministry audience. Turning back to her audience, she continued, "He can't exactly speak, but he's here to emphasize that he agrees with what I'm saying. Harry and I watched Voldemort die. We just want to make sure everyone knows that and is confident of it."

A reporter from the Prophet spoke. "Wouldn't it be easier for everyone to be confident of it if Voldemort had been dealt with by the Ministry in an official way, rather than by you and Professor Potter?"

She tried not to appear annoyed at the question. "No. I think even if Voldemort had been killed by the Ministry--and it wouldn't have been a public execution, only a few people would have seen it--people would still be asking the same questions today. They would wonder if the man who was executed had used Polyjuice Potion, if he had bewitched the executioners, and so forth. Voldemort inspired such fear that there would always be questions."

"Who do you think it was?" asked a woman from Witch Weekly.

"I don't know who it was, and I don't want to speculate. All I know for sure is that it wasn't Voldemort."

"Professor Granger," the witch continued, "I've heard that when you were a student at Hogwarts and Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge was the headmistress, you tried at one point to have her killed. Is that true?"

Hermione's mouth fell open in astonishment; she was silent for a few seconds. Finally finding her voice, she responded indignantly, "No, that is not true. Did she tell you that?"

"I'm sorry, Professor, but a reporter can't tell where she gets her information from. Can I rephrase the question, then, and ask if anything you did led to placing Undersecretary Umbridge in mortal danger?"

Hermione took a deep breath. She was upset and annoyed, but she knew she was on very public display, and had to be careful. "I did nothing illegal or immoral. Now, if you'll tell me who told you that and exactly what they said, I'll discuss it with you some other time. Otherwise, I'm not commenting."

Hermione was ready to end the session, but the woman spoke before she could. "Professor, I've also heard that you discovered that Rita Skeeter, the Prophet reporter who was assassinated five years ago, was an Animagus long before it was commonly known and used this information to blackmail her. Is that true, and do you know anything about her death?"

Again, Hermione was astonished, and becoming more agitated. She paused, getting feelings of calm from Flora, and impressions from Harry. Pleased and surprised at his insight, she answered with more confidence. "Harry tells me... I assume you all know that phoenixes can see a person's character very clearly, and get a sense of their emotional state. Harry just told me that even before we started, that you had a sense of anticipation, that you just wanted to ambush me with these rumors. You have no idea whether or not they're true, and you don't care. All you care about is that it might be a good story, and it might help your career.

"Now, Miss... Helena Rostoy, isn't it? Miss Rostoy, do you even know the person who told you these things?" There was total silence; the reporter nervously glanced around. "Harry tells me that you don't. I'd also bet you were told these things very recently. Now, consider this, Miss Rostoy, and everyone here. My purpose here is to assure people that Voldemort is dead and has nothing to do with these attacks. If Miss Rostoy had her way, the headline of tomorrow's story about this would be something like, 'Granger Defends Herself Against Accusations.' It would deflect attention from what I'm trying to get across, which is obviously the intention of whoever talked to you. They don't want people to be reassured that it wasn't Voldemort, because they want people to think it was Voldemort, they want people to panic. You are helping them. Willingly or unwillingly, I can't say," she finished with a glare at the woman.

She paused again to catch her breath. "One more thing, before I go... the rest of you, who I hope are responsible journalists... write about her little sideshow if you must, but please make the main story what I'm talking about. Whoever killed four people today is hoping you won't. Thank you."

As she walked away, she heard applause from many of the Ministry employees, and was heartened. Harry communicated through Flora that it had never occurred to Rostoy that she was being manipulated. Hermione considered stopping and giving the reporter credit for that much, but she quickly decided not to. God, she thought, I hate the press. She also started considering exactly who knew the information the woman had been told. The list was not long.

Snape was sorting potion ingredients in his dungeon when the door flew open and Hermione walked in. "I swear, I would love to just kick something," she fumed.

"Then you have come to the wrong place," said Snape calmly. "I take it the briefing did not go well."

"You could say that. I went home, hoping Neville could make me feel better, but he wasn't there. I guess all the Aurors are getting extended duty, so I decided to come here."

"I fear I will make a poor substitute," said Snape dryly.

Despite herself, she smiled. "I'm sure that'll make him feel better when I tell him. No, I'm here because I want to know what you think. Take a look at what happened."

Eyebrows high--Hermione had never offered to show him a memory before--he touched his wand, cast Legilimency, and viewed the memory. When he finished, he was even more surprised. "First of all, you handled yourself well, given your age and the circumstances."

Hermione didn't appreciate the reference to her age, but decided to let it go. "Thanks. Really, I thought her next question was going to be, 'Is it true that Severus Snape killed Rita Skeeter?'"

"I think it would have been," said Snape seriously, "had you not slapped her down as you did. Whoever knew the other things must have known that as well. I am confident that the information was obtained from someone who did not share it willingly. Even Professor Dentus does not know that I killed Skeeter. The only others are you, Professor Potter, the other four of your group, myself, Mr. Shacklebolt, and Mr. Brantell. It may not be apparent, Professor, but what just happened was a good thing."

Hermione caught on quickly. "They let us know that one of us may be compromised."

"Exactly. Mr. Shacklebolt is a highly unlikely candidate, as am I. We cannot know about Mr. Brantell, who is traveling, but it seems unlikely that he could be easily found. It is still possible. Then there are you and the other four."

"Couldn't it be Professor McGonagall, the information taken just before they killed her?"

Snape rolled his eyes, annoyed at his mental lapse. "Yes, of course. That is it, in all likelihood. In any case, it makes it nearly certain that we are dealing with more than just Malfoy, as he is not a Legilimens. Granted, he could have become one, but it seems unlikely. I believe that in the next few days there will be a Prophet article suggesting my complicity in the murders of Skeeter and Fudge."

"Why should they bother?" asked Hermione. "Bright already gave you a blanket pardon for anything you did, known or unknown, as an agent against Voldemort."

"The purpose, as with the reporter today, would be distraction. Our enemies would like to impugn our character and motives, hoping that we may be more concerned with our public image than taking the fight to them."

"I'm not concerned with my public image right now, that's for sure," grunted Hermione.

"Unfortunately, you have to be. You are the Hogwarts headmistress."

"Don't remind me." She paused, becoming serious. "Actually, that does remind me... until Harry comes back, I'd like you to be the deputy headmaster."

Again, Snape was surprised. "Not Professor Sprout?"

"She'd be good," admitted Hermione. "But especially with what's going on right now, I'd be more comfortable knowing that Hogwarts is going to be secure."

"You know perfectly well the defenses the founders provided Hogwarts with," pointed out Snape. "Hogwarts would be secure if a house-elf were headmaster."

Hermione smiled at the thought. "Well, I'll head on down to the kitchens, then," she joked. "You know what I mean. Will you do it?"

He shrugged. "I already have experience being a temporary deputy headmaster, so why not. It is, no doubt, the closest I will ever get to the vault in the headmaster's office."

Her eyes went wide, then she recovered. "Of course... you were viewing Albus's memories for many years, you were bound to see that. You don't really care about money, though, do you?"

"No, it was a joke, of course. I barely use my salary as it is. I would suggest, though, that this arrangement not be made public; only the staff should be told. The students and the public would view it as a suggestion that Professor Potter's condition is irreversible."

"We don't know that it's not," she said sadly.

"He will find a way back," said Snape confidently. "He is Harry Potter, after all."

She smiled again, knowing that he was joking in how he said it, but not in the content of his words. "Yes, I see your point," she agreed.

* * * * *

About four and a half years earlier, Voldemort had launched his last great offensive, an attack on Hogwarts with an army of giants, dementors, and Dark wizards. In the course of the battle, the Dark wizards overflew Hogwarts at one point, and Harry thought he saw one drop a dozen small items onto the Hogwarts grounds. He was highly preoccupied, however, and after the battle he totally forgot what he had seen.

The items were pyramids, an inch and a half tall. They looked a little like game pieces of some sort, as each had a number of dots etched into each of the pyramid's four sides, but not its base. There were nine pyramids in all, each with a different number of dots from one to nine, and each had the same number of dots on all four of its sides. On one side the dots were red; on the other three, black.

Walking outside the day after the attack to check out the crushed tank still lying near the Quidditch pitch, eight of the ten Slytherin second years--Hedrick and Helen were inside the castle talking--happened upon eight of the pyramids. They picked them up, one each, and wondered what game they were from. They carried them around for a while, then eventually put them in their chests, as a sort of memento of that day. Unbeknownst to them, a Gryffindor second year had found and picked up the ninth, and done the same. By the seventh year, all still had them, but had almost forgotten about them. They were just one of those things people became attached to, and didn't get rid of because there was no good reason to do so.

Lucius Malfoy had known about them, and Drake found the information in Malfoy's mind. With Malfoy's help, Drake was eventually able to locate the device that activated the others. With Potter now out of the way, this part of the operation could proceed. Drake had Brenda Apparate to England, get to within a half-mile of Hogwarts, and activate the device. Inside the chests of the sleeping seventh years, the pyramids started to glow faintly. Each one's owner would remember his long-forgotten possession the next morning, and begin carrying it again, unaware of its slow but steady effect on its owner's thinking and behavior.

* * * * *

Slowly waking up the next morning, Ginny reflexively reached over for Harry where he usually slept. Her half-conscious annoyance with herself for forgetting woke her up the rest of the way. She looked around the room; no phoenix-Harry. Phoenix-Harry wasn't as good as real Harry, but right now, she would take it. He'd been around for a few hours the night before, shortly before she went to sleep. He'd sung her to sleep again; she wondered if she would soon be unable to sleep without it, since she couldn't have him in the bed. It was the first time since they'd been married--the day after she took her last N.E.W.T. exam--that she'd slept without him next to her.

She got up, asked Dobby to look after James, trudged to the shower, and just stood there letting the water flow over her; she lost track of time. Monday night and yesterday she'd been anxious; now she felt depressed. There was just no way of knowing how long Harry would remain a phoenix. Why doesn't he bond with me, she thought for the twentieth time since Monday night. Then at least I'd have some connection with him, he could send me some of the peace and calm he gets from the spiritual realm. Maybe it's that damn phoenix intuition telling him not to, who knows why. And I can't ask him why he doesn't, because I'd have to ask through Hermione or Pansy, and that just looks pathetic. Or does he just not bond with me because I'm not suitable to be bonded to a phoenix? Does he not care that I'm his wife, for this kind of thing? What will I do if he bonds with someone else? Stop thinking that, she told herself. It's pointless.

She thought about how Hugo had once used the word 'vivacious' to describe her in an article. I wonder when was the last time I was vivacious, she thought. Definitely before this thing happened with James. I'm too dependent on Harry for my happiness. Look at me, he's gone for a day and I fall apart. Meanwhile, he's a phoenix, he's in paradise by comparison. Why should he miss me, when he's got the spiritual realm shining down on him?

Shaking herself out of her train of thought, she reached for the shampoo and proceeded with her shower. She felt abandoned, and she resented her husband. She knew it wasn't his fault, though she occasionally listened to a small part of her mind that told her that he really could transform back, but was just doing this to get away from her for a while. Especially after yesterday's attacks, she knew it was stupid--not only wouldn't he do that to her, but he wouldn't stand by while people got killed--yet she couldn't stop it from popping into her mind.

Contributing to her state of mind was the fact that she still hadn't come to terms with what she'd found out about their son. She just couldn't accept as fact that Draco Malfoy's personality had nothing to do with her son. She fed, clothed, and took care of him--sometimes passing those duties off to her mother or Dobby, more than she had before--but found herself looking for Malfoy in James's eyes. Three weeks ago, she had felt deeply connected to her husband and her son. Now, she felt neither.

She would go to the Burrow, as it was better than spending time alone, or alone with her son; looking at him now also made her feel guilty about her treatment of him, which she was sure he'd noticed. Maybe her mother would help her feel better; all her other friends were busy. Pansy was at St. Mungo's, Ron and Neville were pulling long Auror shifts in the wake of the new danger, and Hermione was up to her ears in her new job, her classes, and trying to help find a way to bring Harry back. She couldn't even hang out with Sheila, as there was a practice that day. She'd called the team manager in the fireplace the day before and told him that she wouldn't be with the team until further notice. Part of her thought it would be better to practice, to have something to do, but she was sure she'd be too distracted. I can't even play a game, she thought. She dressed, picked up James, and walked over to the Burrow. She looked straight in front of her, lost in thought, but she wouldn't have noticed the dog watching her from behind the trees even if she'd been looking.