Harry Potter and His New Standards

Chapter 26--Make Known the Clandestine and Tryst

"If you reveal your secrets to the wind you should not blame the wind for revealing them to the trees."

*()%()*

Harry looked at the conversation from an angle. As much as he wanted to move and get a different perspective, he couldn't. So, feet glued to the spot, Harry watched what was happening.

It was another Voldemort dream, of course. And Harry desperately wanted to remove himself from the vision--but this opened up a view to him that no one else had. He could see what Aurors would do anything to, and tried desperately to use it to his advantage.

By the looks of it, Voldemort and the Death Eaters were holding their base at Malfoy Mansion--or some other big, old, expensive-looking living space of the sort. They were standing in a deserted room--a huge place on ballroom-size scale made of something white that looked like marble. On either side of him he could see tall pillars connecting the ceiling of shallow domes (it was painted with pictures he couldn't quite make out) to the floor. A massive, crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, sparkling in the fading daylight. Other than the massive window that opened up to a snowy landscape, Harry didn't take in much more detail. He should focus on the words being said ahead of him, instead.

"Lucius says that you can imagine any scene in this room and the charms placed on it would cause your dreams to materialize in front of you for an amount of time," said Voldemort distantly. "You can hardly conceive what sort of images could be played in this enchanted space." So the Dark Lord was still staying in Malfoy Mansion.

"No indeed, my lord," answered a smooth voice. The speaker was a Death Eater, obviously, wearing deep blood-red robes. A dark-haired male stood in front of Voldemort, hands behind his back.

It seemed Voldemort returned to the matter at hand. "I need to summon an army of creatures," he said, "to serve and assist my followers, such as yourself, and I in upcoming feats." The man tilted his head up slightly to look more directly at his master.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you speak of," he replied slowly.

"I'd been gathering them in the forest outside of Hogwarts for some time," Voldemort explained, "A unique race, the Malumi. Conscious and barbaric--very human-like considering their beast status."

The Death Eater didn't respond, and Harry wasn't sure whether he knew what Voldemort was talking about or not. "Mulciber," he addressed him, "before returning to your work I have two errands for you to run."

"Yes, master?"

Before he continued, Voldemort paused in thought for a moment. "Visit Malfoy--tell him to owl number... eighteen. But first, send Varian to me."

With a, "Certainly, my lord," Mulciber turned and left--walking swiftly out of the room. Voldemort gazed around for a while until Varian arrived with a shaky warp onto the spot.

In silky-looking black robes, Varian was a shocking beauty with a deep complexion. Although beautiful, no doubt, she wore a sorrowful expression, and didn't hold eye contact with Voldemort for very long. "You called for me, master?"

"Indeed I did. It doesn't do to wander about and brood in the gardens, Varian." She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could he went on. "The change is both a gift and a curse. You could only wither from old age... you may still lead a normal, human, life. The gift of being an Animagus was given to you--had your enemies had their way with you, you wouldn't have gotten away alive, Varian. Be grateful for what you've been given." For Voldemort, his cup was definitely brimming with sympathy.

"Yes, my lord," she mumbled.

"As for your assignment--I need you to begin summoning the Malumi from the Dark Forest on the Hogwarts grounds."

Varian looked up at him, confused. "Why from the Dark Forest?"

"There will be a good number there..." Voldemort mused, "the Elves shouldn't have killed them. Captured, perchance. Unless a creature is harming one of their kind, they are often too pure and too peaceful to murder during a time they don't view as war."

"Why do you not ask for the assistance of the Elves, master?" Varian questioned, "They would be a healthy addition to our side."

"Certainly," contemplated the Dark Lord, "but it takes more persuasiveness to trick a wise Elf into following a wizard in the Dark Arts than I possess. It is hard enough to convince an Elf to follow a human race to war at all--they have hardly been conversing with mortals for the past few centuries."

Varian nodded, gazing at the floor again. Voldemort narrowed his eyes at her for a moment before continuing in explaining his plans. "Send a dozen or so to Azkaban--release my followers that have been imprisoned."

"Even Pettigrew, my lord?" she inquired, eyebrows raised.

"Why not?"

"Well, he's been administered the Kiss--Pettigrew is soulless and, by all accounts, bygone. He sits in his cell, silent, staring at the walls and neither seeing nor thinking anything of the world, my lord." She lifted her eyes to his.

"He still has his uses--release them all. The Dementors shouldn't be a problem, they may even follow," Voldemort finished.

"When shall I begin the Collecting?"

The Dark Lord, with an accompanying sneer, stated his reply without a thought. "Now."

The world faded, and Harry just saw Varian disappear from the spot before he sensed himself being shook by the shoulders, and could feel cool sweat along his hairline.

Snapping back to life, his eyes focused on the fire-red hair, cerulean eyes, and many freckles of Ron--looking down with a concerned expression. "You alright?" If he'd been much closer, it was likely that Harry would have shouted.

Excluding the fact that Harry's scar was twinging and he could feel himself shaking slightly, yes he was alright. It was late afternoon, by the looks of the room's lighting. Harry vaguely remembered falling into slumber, lying on his mattress, earlier. His glasses were still on, or, at least, the world and everything in it was in clear vision.

The dream, a mild one as it was, left Harry feeling insecure and frightened. His hands trembled, fingertips tingling, as he pushed himself into a sitting position. "You were starting to shake--so I reckoned it was best to wake you up..." Ron explained enigmatically. "Hey... are you okay?"

Harry jerked himself out of the sleepy, scar-stinging trance he'd fallen into with a shake of his head. "Yeah... yeah, I'm alright." He blinked a couple times. When Ron slowly turned away, looking dubious, Harry ran his fingers of one hand down the zigzag pattern of his scar.

He hadn't told anyone but Dumbledore about the last vision he had--and as much as he wanted to warn his friends of what was planned to happen to them, he couldn't. Harry didn't know what he feared--they probably wouldn't turn away from him, no matter how much coaxing it took. But, maybe that was it--perhaps they wouldn't turn away and end up following him more willingly into dangerous situations just to prove they weren't afraid of what the Dark Lord could do to their lives.

Harry could tell Ron and Hermione, Holly maybe, about this dream. But not just then--he was trying to grasp at what he'd just seen.

They were in a big ballroom at the Malfoy Mansion, or Malfoy Manor--whichever it was. First he'd seen a man called Mulciber who was sent off to tell Lucius, no doubt, to owl "number eighteen". Then a pretty woman named Varian came--apparently she'd been cursed in some way or another. She had to start calling the... the... Malums to her? Some sort of beast... there was supposedly many in the Forbidden Forest.

"I'd been gathering them in the forest outside of Hogwarts for some time," Voldemort had told Mulciber, "A unique race, the Malumi. Conscious and barbaric--very human-like considering their beast status."

Then there was something else--about the Elves. But, other than Hagrid, Harry didn't know anybody who knew anything about the Elves that lived in the forest. Hagrid hadn't even seen them before, it seemed. But, those Elf-people had either captured or killed the Malumi...

"They tell me there's somthin' fishy goin' on in that forest... they can sense it. There's summat there tha' don' belong there... they're all panickin' like you've ne'er seen," Hagrid had explained in a gruff voice in what seemed like a decade ago.

"The only thing I've ever heard Acromantulas being afraid of are basilisks... and honestly I don't think there's another basilisk slithering around the grounds..." Hermione replied slowly.

"It's not jus' them. The centaurs... they know somethin' too... bu' you can't try an' get a straight answer from one of 'em. Bu' they are worryin' too. Ronan an' Bane are a mess... they're sayin' tha' other centaurs are beginnin' to flee..." Hagrid had shaken his head darkly. "I don' like it."

So, were the Acromantulas afraid of Voldemort or the Malumi?

Dumbledore had said, however long ago it was, that if Harry ever had another vision to come straight to his office. That's what he would do then, Harry figured as the pain in his scar died down. "I'll be right back," he told Ron, sliding off his bed and pulling on his shoes.

"Where're you going?" his counterpart asked. Harry opened the door.

"I'll tell you later," he said. Harry hurried down the steps, out of the common room, and through the various corridors leading to Dumbledore's office. When he reached the appropriate statue, he gave it the password and the gargoyle stepped aside.

Making double time up the moving staircase, Harry reached the door and used the brass knocker shaped like a griffin to alert the headmaster of his presence. As always, it seemed, Dumbledore answered from within. Whenever the Boy Who Lived needed him, the aged headmaster was nearly always there waiting. Harry opened the door and slipped in.

*()%()*

Hermione stared blankly at her reflection, shown to her by Willow. The full-length, wooden mirror was creaking a lot, as though trying to move to get a better look at the girl standing in front of her.

"Are you sure, Willow?" Hermione asked, looking herself over once more. "I mean... positive?"

"Yes!" replied the mirror, exasperated.

Hermione was far from comfortable, wearing an outfit with parts borrowed to her by both Lavender and Parvati. White was the bottom half of the outfit and pale pink the top. The two Gryffindors had given her the clothes after a half-an-hour wardrobe raid, telling her to wear them on the date, and then left. Apparently they had other business to attend to.

Now Hermione was left wondering whether she should take her friends' advice and feel ridiculously put-together, or change and look, possibly, worse. Willow was the victim of her doubtful line of questions, now. She turned around to get a side-view, hating the white pants more in a split-second.

"Nerrrrrrr-nerr-nerr HEY!

Nerrr-nerr-nerr-ner--ner."

And, then there came Holly, the Pop Queen... her racket slowly growing louder until the door opened.

"Nerrrrrrr-nerr-nerr, HEY!

Nerrr-nerr-nerr-ner--ner..."

"Holly," Hermione interrupted her. Holly stopped dead in her tracks, looking at her associate carefully. Hermione set all her pride aside, and although she felt a little bad for asking this of someone who didn't know the whole situation, she did anyway. "Could you fix my hair for me?"

If she had thought Holly was giving her a funny look before, she was wrong, as her roommate adopted the deer-in-headlights look, still frozen on the spot.

"What?" she asked.

It wasn't that odd of a request--but the girl did tend to exaggerate things, often. "Could you fix my hair for me?" Hermione said again.

"...Why?" Holly asked slowly, bending her knees a little so that she could regard Hermione's expression a little closer.

"Trying a new look--just one up-do, that's all I ask." Hermione fought from crossing her fingers behind her back. Holly wouldn't realize that the clothes belonged to Lavender and Parvati--the girls never wore them. And Holly certainly wouldn't search their wardrobes--she was too tall for their clothes to fit her properly.

Her shoulders relaxed and she strode over to Hermione. "Have bobby-pins?" A flicker of relief went through her as she handed Holly her bag of hairpins. "Okay, I need some S.H.P. and Lavender's irons..."

*()%()*

How many times he'd come into Dumbledore's office on his own terms, Harry wasn't sure. But he imagined that the image of himself stepping into the circular room changed with each year. When he was twelve, stepping in as a short, scrawny thing... nervous and unknowing compared to now: sixteen, not short but not exactly tall either, broadened shoulders... always mildly nervous, at least, but familiar with his surroundings.

And, again, the professor seemed to expect him. "Ah, Harry! Come in... is something wrong?"

Finally Harry's expression didn't give away his feeling completely--although he hadn't quite mastered the gift of wearing a mask. Normally the question was, "What's wrong?" Then again, Harry had rarely invaded the headmaster's office with good news. In fact, the one time he remembered doing so--he was covered in slime, dirt, sweat, and serpent blood and holding a diary bathed in ink with a hole burnt in the middle, a bloodied sword, and a tattered hat. So, although he came back with a story dark all through but the end, his garb and accessories didn't exactly shriek of good news.

Harry asked whether he could have a seat, and Dumbledore motioned for him to do so. Sinking into the plushy chair, Harry sighed. Before he could begin the tale of his most recent vision, Dumbledore pushed a piece of parchment across his desk.

"A little delayed due to bad weather--a letter from your godfather. He did do as Professor Lupin requested, and remained away from the castle in his, presumable, rage. Nor did he send a Howler--although the screaming can be seen in his handwriting."

Harry opened the letter, and once he looked over the scratchy and bold mix between print and cursive, he knew what Dumbledore meant. "A more rational letter should be coming soon. Sirius has never remained angry too long."

The second part was probably an understatement, but Harry didn't speak on it. A quick skim of what Sirius had written told him that he wasn't quite... thrilled with Holly's "narrow-minded" actions, and if she chanced putting another toe out of line he'd be dragging her out of Gryffindor tower by her hair. That was the gist of it, anyway.

"Why did the letter come to you, professor?" Harry asked after a moment.

"Ah, well, the owl arrived for Lupin at breakfast. There was another letter with it--for him. I do believe Sirius was asking for the advice of his old friend as to whether the other note was too harsh for young eyes. Or perhaps he was asking whether it was austere enough--they hold their secrets, the loyal remnants of their old gang." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Give the note to Miss Black after you're done with it... she'll be ready to counter her father's anger, I'm sure."

"I'll be careful to keep her away from all Floo stations, professor," Harry told him as soberly as he could, setting the letter in his lap.

"Good, good. Now, what is it you are needing?" Dumbledore took on the look of concern, leaning forward over his desk a little.

Harry took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to regroup the facts presented to him by the most recent vision. It didn't take too long for him to finish the description, with as many details as he could fit in. The headmaster rarely interrupted, and took in Harry's statements all at once without clarification. Perhaps the reason he didn't ask for a further explanation on most things was because he knew Harry couldn't give it.

When he was done reeling off his tale, Harry sighed, as though exhaling the last of the breath he'd been using the entire time to give his testimony. Dumbledore didn't say anything for a trice, so Harry spoke up again.

"I thought before, professor, that I only had my... my visions... when Voldemort was feeling particularly--hateful. But, I think I'm going to start having more--I just... I just feel it." Harry didn't want to admit it, but sleeping had lost so much of its appeal when this thought haunted him, that slumber was toeing being frightening.

"I agree wholly, Harry," the headmaster replied somewhat gravely. "There is more Death Eater activity now... and as it will open up a Darker world to your eyes, it helps the Ministry. Well, the part of the Ministry that believes your visions are real, anyway."

"Nothing from Fudge yet, professor?" Harry assumed.

Dumbledore shook his head. "No. He still firmly believes that you're nothing but a young boy seeking attention and the Voldemort is an idle threat--being dead. Or, so he thinks."

"Why is he like that?" Harry demanded. "He's seen what Voldemort has done, professor! He's seen it first hand!"

"It's hard to explain, Harry," he told him calmly. "Minister Fudge became the supreme governor of wizarding Britain after Lord Voldemort's downfall. Somewhere in his mind, I'm sure he believes himself the one who's kept the peace--and cannot accept that the Dark Arts have developed so far as to bring Lord Voldemort back under his very nose."

Harry wanted to hear more--as the explanation reeling around Fudge's blindness to the real world wasn't enough for him. He'd always come off as a kindly, blustering, somewhat pompous fellow who's essentially good-natured... but if he could side with the Malfoys because of their generous donations versus the Weasleys only because of their financial status--maybe he wasn't so wonderful after all.

Even Ron could believe the stories of Voldemort's new power surge--and he seemed the most likely to refuse the presence of Darkness around him. "It just can't be... I mean... how could that happen? Because... er..." were the beginnings of one of the Weasley's opinions.

But, Harry continued to a new line of questioning. First, he moved to the Malumi. "The Malumi?" repeated Dumbledore. "A type of beast believed to be extinct by many. Different witches and wizards know otherwise. A Malum is a beast closely related to the goblins. Like goblins, they're rather cruel... more so, actually. And also, they have their own identities, different names and personality. A corrupt race--naturally Lord Voldemort would want them to assist him. I can't tell you much more, not being one to associate with them, myself."

"Why have I never heard of them before, though?" Harry asked. "I mean, they aren't in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, are they?"

"Oh, certainly not," replied Dumbledore, "There are many things Newt Scamander didn't write about. I'm not sure that even the most notorious for loving dangerous beasts, Hagrid, could tell you much about the Malumi. They aren't pleasant--not a bit."

Harry turned this over in his mind a couple times before moving on with his questions. "Varian--what was wrong with her?"

"From what you told me," he responded, "my best guess is that Varian was recently transformed into a Bruxsa."

Harry wrinkled his nose. It didn't sound nice--which was for sure. "A... a what?"

"A Bruxsa, Harry," Dumbledore repeated, "a type of vampire."

"What?" Harry looked around for a moment, like he was trying to gather more information to help him in his response. "A vampire? But... but... she was walking around in broad daylight!"

"Only in Muggle stories do vampires, say, melt or burst into flames when exposed to sunlight. Most types, actually, can handle being in the sun during the day--although none of them particularly enjoy it." The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched as Harry struggled to close his.

"But--er--why wasn't she all, y'know, waxy-looking and stuff?"

"Only certain types of vampires appear like so. Bruxsas, on the other hand, are usually transformed into vampiric form by a ritual of spells. They appear normally as a beautiful maiden." Harry remembered the deep skin and dark hair of the woman--and how she reminded him, only slightly, of the Patil twins. "A Bruxsa can lead a normal, human life by day--bearing children and the like. At night she will transform into a bird--tormenting weary, lost travelers. They're said to be immortal."

"Isn't it a bit..." Harry paused, "unsafe having a vampire hanging around?"

The headmaster shook his head. "No, not really. Most vampires can resist the urge to feed on humans--and blood can be supplied. Sad to say, I do believe that Lord Voldemort can supply Varian, and other vampires he may have in his service, with a sufficient amount of blood."

It wasn't pleasant to think about--but most likely true. "I don't exactly see what's so wrong with being a Bruxsa, professor," Harry said. "I mean--if they can handle light, turn into a bird, and are immortal..."

"And yet," Dumbledore interjected politely, "would you want to be a vampire?"

Harry didn't have to think long about this. "No," he replied.

"Exactly. Not all vampires are bad, of course, but many of them are. They're a minority--a race hated by most witches and wizards, like werewolves, for example. If an individual had spent time with a vampire without knowing what they were for a long period of time, it would be a horrible shock when discovering the truth. You saw what happened a few years ago when the secret of Professor Lupin was told, didn't you?" Harry nodded. "Only the Muggle-borns seemed to be the ones who overlooked it."

Harry thought about this for a while before Dumbledore went on. "Being a vampire is a curse, put mildly. It's a struggle for them, I imagine, to resist the temptation of feeding off others. Bruxsas, for example, prey on their newly born children." Harry shivered. "It wouldn't be something one would want to worry about constantly. Being transformed into what is considered a monster doesn't take away all conscience and compassion."

"And the Elves, sir?"

"What about them, Harry?" Dumbledore countered kindly, folding his hands on the wooden desk.

"Er--" he didn't know exactly what he was going to be asking, "do they really live in the Forbidden Forest?"

The silver-haired professor considered him for a moment with a different sort of twinkle in his clear eyes--suspicion. "They do--deep in the wood. It's rare to see them--they keep themselves and their kin hidden rather well."

Harry nodded. "I never thought there could be a community of creatures like Elves living in the forest."

"Nor did you know about the Merpeople in the lake until you put together the clue hidden in that Golden Egg--did you, Harry?" Harry agreed. "The Elves aren't so much creatures as they are a people of their own. They remain out of the view of the prying eyes of the magical world, just as we separate ourselves from the non-magical world. It's a line eroded over years of disagreements between them and mortals."

"Why doesn't Voldemort want to bridge the gap, then?" asked Harry.

"Powerful as he is," Dumbledore replied, "Lord Voldemort would have to do much more work than what is to his liking to convince even one Elf to join he and the Death Eaters." Harry raised his eyebrows and Dumbledore peered at him, seemingly reading his mind. "Much further along in years are the Elves than you or I, Harry. They have seen the world in many stages--and recognize evil when presented to them. Lord Voldemort knows that having an ally in the Elves would be an ultimate gift and, most likely, hand him victory. But, he also realizes that it would take a sufficient amount of curses to convince that race join the Darker side of this war."

"So he's settling for the Malumi?" finished Harry.

"Yes, the Malumi, the Dementors, vampires, trolls, giants, goblins... anything he can trick into joining his side. Not that all of them will agree, of course. There will always be vampires working for us, along with goblins... although trolls don't know much better, nor care whom they work for. Giants are rarely dependable, but deals can be made." Dumbledore smiled, but only slightly. "There are many other magical creatures that will be presented to you, and I wouldn't wish to spoil the surprise."

Harry thought otherwise, but didn't speak on it. "So, professor... do you think the Elves will fight with us?"

"The Elves have helped me with school-related matters before--but will they raise their weapons to assist us in war?" Dumbledore thought about this for a moment before sighing deeply. "I do hope that the ties can be reformed, Harry. But, they need more people asking... more proof of our need." More people? Harry pondered that part of Dumbledore's statement for a moment. Did that mean that perhaps he had spoken with them on the matter already?

That tone of finality had entered his voice now. "Good afternoon, professor," Harry said quietly, standing up.

"Thank you for reporting to my office, Harry. It was of help to me, and the ministry." He nodded to the headmaster slightly before turning towards the door. "Oh, and, Harry..."

He turned, hand closed around the handle. The blisters on his skin had worn down, but still hurt--he really needed to see either Madam Pomfrey or Holly about that. "Yes, professor?"

"Next year, I believe I will tell you the password at the beginning of the term. No need for you to stand outside the gargoyle and babble your way into entering." Harry smirked. "You're one of my most common visitors, you know."

He wasn't sure whether he should thank him or not. So he simply said, "Good-bye, professor."

"Have a nice evening, Harry. I hope for you to have more pleasant dreams." He nodded a little and left, stepping outside of the door and onto the moving stairs.

*()%()*

Harry reentered the dormitory and once again the only other in the circular room was Ron. "What was that about?" he asked him, setting down the comb he was holding. It wasn't one of the many collected and treasured by Seamus--there were a few teeth missing. He stood in front of the mirror, carefully grooming his hair. Harry hadn't seen much of Ron trying to fix his image.

"Er--I'll tell you later." Ron didn't say anything, and instead scowled at his reflection. He swiped the comb through his barely there red hair, only causing it to stand up in a different direction than before. He said something Harry didn't quite catch and threw the comb down on the floor, rubbing his hands over his head a couple times and looking at the mirror as though he'd just won a contest over it. "Are you alright?" asked Harry.

Ron said, "I. Hate. My. Hair."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Right." Apparently Ron was a bit touchy about the haircut-thing still, and although Harry had been angry about his fair share of Dursley Chops--Ron's wasn't near as bad. But then, his didn't grow back overnight either.

After a moment, the Weasley asked, "Does this look okay?" He turned to face Harry, holding his arms out a little. Ron wasn't exactly dressed to kill--but Harry didn't know if there were some sort of agreements set out as to what they were to wear. Knowing Hermione, there was. But Ron didn't exactly look like he was coming up to the standard.

"It looks fine." For some reason it seemed that Harry had said this about five times that day already.

Ron continued worrying about the upcoming date, and Harry shifted around the common room for about an hour more, answering his friend's panicky inquiries now and then. After doing a short checklist of what the "lovebird" would be best off bringing with, Ron left--and he seemed rather absent of the Gryffindor-packed ammunition referred to as bravery.

*()%()*

"And..." Holly pulled at a chunk of Hermione's hair for a second, "viola!" Hermione turned her head, checking that the formal-worthy hairstyle Holly had promised held true. And it did--although it had taken forever. She'd combed half a bottle of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion through her hair, used Lavender's various styling irons (fixed with heating charms) to change the way gravity left her hair in about six ways, and stuck a liberal amount of hairpins in it to keep it from falling out for about an hour. "Wait... that's an instrument..." Holly shut her eyes for a moment, "Voila. Yeah, that's what I meant."

"Not bad," observed Hermione, gingerly feeling it with her fingertips.

"Don't touch it!" Holly snapped, pulling her hand away from her hair, "it'll fall out sooner--and that'll look frumpy, because that is clearly supposed to be elegant--since you didn't want to go for messy..."

"Why would someone want their hair to look untidy?" Hermione replied. "I don't understand."

Holly shook her head. "Because it's natural. As long as it isn't bushy--" Hermione flinched at the very word, "--it's okay. What d'ya think Willow?"

"Very nice," the mirror rasped.

"'Kay..." Holly stepped in front of Hermione and looked her over. "A quick '1-2'. Do you have a white top on under that?" She nodded. "Unbutton the top four buttons of the over-shirt."

"Wh-why?"

"Just do it--you look like Madam Pince. Then... curl your eyelashes. I'm going to get you a belt." Holly rummaged through her wardrobe and came back with a leathery-looking tan belt. She had Hermione try it on. Hermione, with a little bit of delight, found that she could hook it through the first hole with room.

"You are so tiny..." Holly grumbled. With a few extra tugs on Hermione's hair, the taller girl stepped back and smiled. "Good."

Hermione did feel better than before--but wasn't completely confident. "What's wrong now?"

"Do I look sleazy?" she chanced, biting her lip.

Holly rolled her eyes. "No! You're wearing a cardigan over another shirt, full-length pants, and I see no cleavage or stomach whatsoever. And you have a belt on--making everything a little less accessible." She took a breath. "Needless to say Parvati had to dig to the bottom of her wardrobe to find clothing so conservative." So maybe she would figure out that they weren't Hermione's clothes.

She gasped, "You're so mean!"

Holly shrugged. "You were mean first. You're the one wearing her clothes--and you asked if you looked 'sleazy'." This was true. "Now that you look nice--are you going to go somewhere, or look at your reflection for the rest of the night?"

Hermione thought about this. Sure she was going to go somewhere--Hogsmeade, with Ron. But, now how would she get away without making Holly suspicious? It probably wouldn't work, the plan she had now, but it was worth a try. "Actually--I will. I--er--I think I'll just go on a little walk. Yeah."

Hermione slipped her cloak around her shoulders and buttoned it up, then pulled on her gloves and wrapped her scarf around her neck. She glanced back at Holly, who was definitely surveying her distrustfully. Before Holly could get a word in, Hermione hurried out--probably making the situation look worse.

She met with Ron, and they left, under the cover of the Invisibility Cloak.

*()%()*

The Merrow Cave was a classy sort of place. Decorated like a mock ocean seafood place, there were many paintings of beautiful Mermaids and handsome Mermen (although they were clearly not Merrows--which weren't the well-favored sea creatures depicted more often). There were lots of green, blue, and brown hues about the place.

She and Ron sat down across from each other at a small, round table near the back. Hermione didn't mind much--because The Mokes might be the band playing... yuck. Complete with a sheer, sparkling, navy tablecloth and burning candle--it was actually a slightly romantic setting. Ron wasn't much for romance, she knew, but the place was nice. She'd give him that.

Although, he hadn't really dressed for the occasion. Hermione felt slightly overdone in her roommates' clothes with Holly's tips and hairstyling compared to him. His hair, which he hadn't mastered at all, was standing on end, and he didn't put much effort into the outfit. A typical Weasley sweater and tattered blue jeans--hadn't she told him she wanted to go for dressy-casual?

They ordered their food, and then Hermione and Ron began discussing the year ahead. "What do you suppose that sixth year meeting called by the heads of houses is about? Do you think it's about our Supantorises?"

He shrugged.

"I'm pretty sure I've gotten mine all figured out. I think that the Sorting Hat is prepared to tell the students what their given power is, but the Sorting Hat wasn't always around--so I think I have mine under control. Can't we get our final three N.E.W.T.s if we master one?

"We receive house rings soon too, don't we? I think I remember what my size was... I don't wear rings often. I think they look really tacky. I mean--Holly wears, like, three... and Parvati and Lavender just pile them on.

"So, have you been saving up for Christmas? I haven't done my shopping yet--I'm not sure what I'm getting everyone. Something small for Lavender, Parvati, Dean, Seamus, Neville, and your sister, for sure. I'm not really as close with them. I don't know what to get Holly--probably just food; she eats a lot of chocolate. Oh, and she's been saying she needs a new chain for her Cretionis Charm. What about Harry?"

Ron shrugged again. "I dunno. He's not exactly picky."

"True. I don't want to buy him anything that's going to pollute his mind with more Quidditch tactics. Perhaps a copy of Hogwarts, a History or something a little more educational." She overlooked Ron's grimace. "I know what I'm getting you, though.

"Anyway, I'm afraid I'm not going to be coming to your house this summer. Maybe the final week before term starts again. But my parents and I are vacationing in France for part of the holidays again, and the other part I'll be with Viktor. He invited me back to Bulgaria, I think I might take my parents this time--not sure.

"Have you started your History of Magic report? It's nice getting longer writing assignments, now, because one absorbs more information when they have the chance to do more research..."

*()%()*

"She did look nice," said Willow. Holly smiled at her reflection and finished zipping shut her hair-bag. She tossed it into her trunk and sat down in front of the wooden-framed mirror. When there was not a mortal soul around to talk with--there was always your mirror.

"Um--thanks, Willow."

"Cleaned up nicely for her date," the mirror remarked. "Been talking about it for most of the week, she has."

Holly squeezed her knees tightly with her hands. "What date?" she asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

"Hasn't she told you?" The mirror laughed. "With the freckly-boy... Ron, yes, that's it. You know--that boyfriend of hers. Hermione's favorite topic when standing in front of me when the dormitory is empty. On and on she goes about how she could develop it into something that lasts..."

Holly didn't quite catch the rest--she blocked the sound of Willow's tree-like voice out of her ears and stared blankly at her reflection. She'd suspected it--of course--but it was always worse when confirmed.

But, the thing was... Harry knew about it. She remembered the look he'd gotten when the questions like, 'Where's Hermione?' or, 'Have you seen Ron?' came up. Ginny too--she knew. Parvati and Lavender were a bit panicky on the topic. Dean and Seamus snickered whenever Ron and Hermione were around each other. Even Neville knew, she presumed.

But no one had told her. Why? Did they think she couldn't handle the truth? Holly wasn't sure what she was more fed up with--the cautious lies or the hardened truth. Maybe they were right--maybe she couldn't handle what the falsities were concealing.

The whole 'good-friend-breakup' wasn't fun. She didn't like to think about why, exactly, it had made her so mad--Holly knew the answer to that. She was so angry with Ron that... she was heartbroken. Grudge-holding or not, Holly had been hit more with the sadness factor than anger.

But this--well, at the time it ticked her off. And she knew the two people who would be first to find out about it.

*()%()*

Ginny watched, grinning, as another of Harry's Wizard Chess pieces was dragged off the board. "Your move," she observed.

The situation didn't look good. Every Weasley must've been gifted at this game--he'd beat Ron maybe once, and this was one of his first times taking on Ginny. Most of his pieces had been propelled off the playing space in various ways, and Ginny didn't do much to make him feel better about losing.

The door of the girls' dormitories swung open and Holly entered. From there she looked a tad downbeat. Her eyes skimmed the common room until they fell on Harry and Ginny. In a few strides she was next to the table, one hand clenched at her side.

And he had been so sure she'd get over it.

"You found out about Ron and Hermione, didn't you?" assumed Ginny slowly and knowingly. He could see her bracing herself, slumping her back against the chair and gripping the armrests.

Holly looked back and forth in between the two of them and started her statement in a low voice, "Yeah, yeah I did. From a God damn MIRROR!" Harry and Ginny flinched simultaneously. "How could you know about those two and not tell me?!" she asked, her expression softening slightly.

Harry made his eyes as round and innocent as he could, and Ginny did the same. There was really no way to get around this one--Holly would know they were lying in saying that they didn't know. So, perhaps they could just sugar coat it a little? "We only... sort of knew," he elaborated.

"Yeah, see, we knew--but we were in denial because it's so... unnatural!" continued Ginny with an agreeing nod from Harry.

"Like... like radioactive spiders," he attempted. Ginny shot him a slight quelling look, and he shrugged as Holly's eyes tore away from him.

The Weasley began the admitting first with a sigh of lost hope. "They're on a date tonight..."

"...in Hogsmeade," he amplified.

"At the Merrow Cave," she sighed.

"I'm paying for it," added Harry quietly. "Ron thinks The Mokes are going to be there."

"But The Mokes were actually there last week--they shouldn't be out long." Ginny tried to smile, but Holly was staring pointedly ahead. "I'm sorry--I should have told you. I wanted to, but I'd only picked it up on the Gryffindor gossip chain. I wasn't... aware of the terms of the relationship." She looked at Harry for help.

"It was supposed to be kept a secret," Harry told Holly--who still wasn't looking at him. "Ron didn't want anyone to know--but Hermione blabbed, I think, and then I saw them come back into the common room once, late at night... and Dean and Seamus were spying so they tried to tell Neville and me." Letting Holly know that the whole of the sixth years in the house knew except for her probably wasn't helping, but she also knew that they weren't supposed to know either. "You have to admit you'd sensed something."

Holly tried to say something, but failed. She closed her mouth and relaxed her fist. "Don't be mad at us," said Ginny. Harry nodded. "Be miffed at Ron!" This time Harry shot her a look.

"It's not that," Holly said, clenching her fist again, "I just helped Hermione get ready." She looked in between them now. "And she looked good!" Holly wailed in conclusion, shutting her eyes.

"How'd she convince you to do that?" asked Ginny, with a cagey sort of expression. Perhaps Holly wasn't as tolerant of Hermione as he'd imagined--then again, Holly hadn't been telling him much lately. It was a slow process, how she'd switched over to spending all her time either alone or with Ginny. Harry was with Holly in classes, of course, but that was about it anymore. Sure there was the whole Imperius Curse thing--which hadn't lasted long. Maybe it was Quidditch that had so thoroughly convinced him that Holly was always around.

If there was one to complain excessively about things that made her angry, it was Holly. And he hadn't heard much on Hermione's account. But, when was he around his godsister when Hermione wasn't there, too? At least the girl had dignity enough to avoid bashing her confrere, or now--opponent, in front of the person. If that could be called dignity.

"She asked me to," Holly said. That sounded a little low of Hermione--but the former bushy-haired friend of his had more conscience than to do this without feeling a little bad about it. "I wasn't going to--but she said she was trying a new look. I couldn't think up a good excuse, so I just took the time to show Hermione a bit of her appearance potential through a little--okay, a lot--of work." Holly clamped her jaw shut for a second, thinking this over. "Had I known on what circumstances she'd actually wanted me to make her look decent..."

Holly wasn't the most civil with putting that Hermione never bothered much with her outer-beauty, other than her hair, which started midway through the year before. But she was angry, or maybe sad, so Harry let this by.

Whether this was a female sort of understanding and tradition, or just something that had become axiomatic between Holly and Ginny, Harry didn't know. But Ginny picked up a pillow and handed it to her elder friend. Holly plopped down on the couch, pushed the thing against her face, and screamed.

The sound was muffled enough that it didn't attract attention. Not that it would matter if it did--the whole of the students in the common room would undoubtedly know what was wrong. Ginny whispered to Harry that she'd be right back, and moved towards Holly.

"C'mon..." She hauled the increasingly furious girl up out of her seat and to the door entering the girls' dormitories. All the while she talked to her calmly, and Holly seemed to be answering rationally as they disappeared behind the door.

Harry sighed deeply and sunk back into his chair. He'd talk to Holly later... meanwhile he'd let her and Ginny have a little girl-time, and wait for his Wizard Chess opponent to return. The outcome of the game wasn't leaning in his favor whatsoever, but better to lose fighting pitifully than backing away, terrified.

*()%()*

"Anyway, back to the topic of Supantorises," Hermione said, "I've read about them, naturally. Surveys say that few witches and wizards seem to master theirs, for some odd reason. If you gave it an hour of practice every day--you could probably get the hang of it, don't you think?"

"Yeah," Ron replied, looking around at the people filtering into the restaurant with a slightly dispirited reaction. She chose not to speak on it.

"What do you want yours to be?" she questioned, looking at him. "I mean, I know that one can choose any of the given powers to train themselves in, but it's the easiest to focus on one's given ability, isn't it?"

"I--uh--I think so. I'd like to be an Animagus, I guess." Ron smiled a little. "I s'pose it'd be cool if I could turn into a wolf or tiger or something. With my luck, though, I'd be a snail."

Hermione smiled. "If that's the case--Rita Skeeter would definitely feel your pain."

"Yes, still haven't seen or heard much of that woman."

Hermione looked down at her hands for an instant, grinning. "This restaurant is really nice. Although, they don't exactly have the history of the Merrow down. First off--Merrows certainly don't live in caves..."

Ron began to drown her out as he looked around his surroundings. Not many young people in the building, he noticed dejectedly. There was a dark green curtain, adorned with a second layer--this of old fishing net--surrounding the rounded stage.

Hermione went on about the differences between colonies of Merpeople--and her interest in them. He caught that she was taking two or perhaps three magical language classes next year. "Mermish is definitely my first choice. Centargot next--Holly could probably help me with writing Centaur, but she can't speak their language. And then Gobblededook. It's a harsh-sounding brogue, but I would dearly like to know what the goblins mutter to themselves and to each other at Gringotts all the time."

That was true. Fred and George knew, well--kind of knew, Gobblededook. They would always curse in it... and although Ron had never discerned what they were saying, he knew that the language did sound pretty funny. But, he was pretty sure that they didn't learn to swear in Gobblededook at Hogwarts. They might have just been making it all up.

"I'm going to try for twelve N.E.W.T.s... but I only have ten classes lined up. So I think I'll stay in all three of my current electives and add either another language or elective... Divination is out of the picture, and Muggle Studies was genuinely boring. Advanced Astronomy sounds sort of fun, though..."

Ron heard Hermione talk, she had a pretty voice, but he didn't catch what she was saying. He felt a little bad, but he went back to surveying the restaurant, thinking about food and who was going to be on the stage in an hour.

*()%()*

It didn't take Ginny too long to return to the common room, although Harry was getting a little lonely. She smiled a bit, and slipped into the chair opposite of him. "Your move," she said again.

This was a strict game of housemate Wizard Chess. Harry was thinking about talking Cho into flying again during class on Tuesday--or maybe Thursday in the tower. Other than that, he didn't have much time to talk to her. Unless, of course, he bumped into her in a mostly-empty corridor. Harry's female relations were going on one track--they were following Cho. They had to be.

But, try as me may, Ginny had a witty personality and a pretty smile--as though Harry wouldn't notice. And she was damn good at Wizard Chess... and Quidditch, for another.

Harry had been given plenty time to plot his next move, although he had no idea what to do that Ginny couldn't use to her advantage. So he commanded forward his queen. "Is she a mess? Holly, I mean."

"Not really," she replied, watching Harry's piece boldly stride forward over the board. "She's definitely been worse. The whole 'Why did no one tell me?' thing is cleared up, now the glares will be forced on Hermione and Ron. I'd like to say Ron would be the one having to deal with her, but Holly should divide it pretty evenly." Ginny tucked a lock of red hair behind her ear and examined the board.

"What do you s'pose she'll do about it?" Harry asked, watching Ginny as her eyes skimmed the positions of each chess piece.

She made her move. "Holly?" He nodded. "My guess is that she won't talk to Ron for a while, and will try and step up her battle of brains against Hermione."

"What do you mean?" Harry inquired, raising his eyebrows.

"She thinks," Ginny elaborated, "that one of Hermione's biggest goals in life is to beat her down. Holly's not stupid--but she'll never be graded over Hermione. Where Hermione will have 110 percent on a test, Holly will have 97. She'll never be the best, and it annoys her."

Harry would have asked Ginny to explain this in a little more detail, but perchance he could get Holly to do that, instead. He commandeered his lessening troops of chess pieces instead.

*()%()*

Ron wasn't exactly sure what he had ordered, and as he continued to cut the chunk of meat and eat it... the more he thought it looked like it had scales. Hermione, on the other hand, seemed quite accustomed with the food on her plate, although there wasn't much. She daintily used her fork to pick along the outside of her salad, in circles. In between bites she'd been telling him about why she had to stay late for Potions on Friday. "And then," she said, "I deduced that one of my hairs had fallen into the potion, and thus the entire thing was ruined. I had to start all over."

"Did Taryn stay to help you?" Ron asked.

Hermione laughed vainly. "Taryn? Nott? Stay and help me?" she shook her head and took a bite of her side toast, chewed, and swallowed. "Certainly not. She said there was business for her to attend to."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Probably had to get to the dungeons to shag Malfoy." He shuddered. "She's a bit kinky."

"So I've noticed. A lot of girls in our year and the next are that way, and it really makes me sick. I don't want to name names, but I know one of them..."

"Parvati?" he assumed off-handedly, picking at a side dish that had been handed to him. Ron glanced up and saw that Hermione was biting her lip. He took that as a yes. Before either of them could say anything else, though, clapping began spreading through the room as the curtains around the round stage started opening.

Behind a levitating microphone stood a blonde witch in her mid forties wearing glittering black robes, smiling widely. There was a big, shiny, expensive-looking piano behind her, and sitting on the bench was a wizard in sleek robes that nearly matched the keyboard.

"Ooh!" exclaimed Hermione, setting down her silverware and beginning to clap as well. Ron tried to be polite and do so, but his mouth was hanging agape in horror. He wanted to throw the napkin on the floor, push over the table, and run.

It was Celestina Warbeck. His mum liked this woman's music. For all he knew, she could be in the crowd right then.

The 'Singing Sorceress' smiled, "Good evening, Hogsmeade!"

I'll bet you anything that woman's teeth are fake. Anything, thought Ron. I mean, if you choose to be blonde when you're that old--you may as well do the whole job. Bet she's used those breast enhancing charms that Ginny wanted mum and dad to buy her, too. He smirked at the memory of Ginny, no older than fourteen, begging her parents to let her save for the instruction booklet.

Then his brain snapped back to the present--the Warbeck lady was talking to the crowd, Hermione was whispering something enthusiastically, and he was squeezing his fork unnecessarily tight.

"Hurry and finish eating!" Hermione hissed, "They're clearing tables!"

"So?" She motioned to his left and he looked... a number of staff were moving the small, round, tables to create a sort of dance floor. Ron didn't see why--who could dance to this old bat's trilling voice?

Hermione continued to urge him to finish his plate, and he did, scarfing enough down at such a speed to open the possibility that he might be sick all over the sleek, wooden floor. It would give him a fair reason to leave, anyway.

Once he'd finished, Hermione grabbed his hand and dragged him forward, weaving through other empty tables, to the cleared spot on the floor. The witch was singing, the wizard accompanying her on the piano.

As soon as Ron had the beat issued evenly in his subconscious, he did his best to dance with Hermione. She was leading, of course, steering him in smooth curves and circles. When he managed to get in step, it was easier to follow. Ron didn't bother to look at his feet, nor the people dancing around him, so instead gazed down at Hermione.

She'd put so much time and effort into the date, getting ready and all. He had given it his best, but nothing seemed to work for them. In his fading trousers and T-shirt he was quite outshone by the girl.

The song ended, and they paused to clap before another started up, and he was dancing again.

*()%()*

Ginny had finished in teasing Harry with sudden defeat in their game, and now he stood looking at the plaque proclaiming that behind this door was the sixth year girls' dormitory.

When Ron first broke it off with Holly he hadn't done anything--but then Holly had been in what would be best described as a teary rage. This time around she seemed to be coping quite well, for her standards anyway.

He knocked, and heard Holly's voice answer from the other side. It sounded like permission to enter, so he did.

Silently, Harry walked over to Holly's open-curtained four-poster and sat down on the edge of the bed. The mess of scarlet and gold bedcovers and pillows hid her. "How are you?" he asked.

"I'm fine." Her voice sounded muffled, and a little faraway. Harry reached to touch her shoulder, but no sufficiently solid surface met his hand, as he pushed the bedspread and sheets straight down to the mattress.

"Right, where are you?" he asked, feeling over the bedspread and sheets, not meeting anything that felt like a human form.

"Under the bed." He raised his eyebrows.

"Oh?" Confused, Harry turned himself around and hung his head over the bed, lifting up the stray sheets. Sure enough, Holly lay there on her back, picking at something on the mattress supporter. She looked over at him. "What're you doing?"

"Fixing." By her side was a bottle of Wiseacre's Super Stickum. A large chunk of wood was hanging down from the frame. "If Reparo fails, Wiseacre's Super Stickum prevails!" she recited.

Harry watched as Holly applied the adhesive to the board and push it back into its place. She held it there for a while. "Did you really have to go under the bed to do that?"

"It's easier this way." She took her hands away from the board and waited for a moment. It stayed in place. "Great," she said. Holly closed the bottle and glanced over at Harry before she shimmied out from under her four-poster. "You look funny upside-down."

He swung back upright and looked at her as he felt the extra blood drain out of his face. "Er--oh." Holly glanced away whilst she opened her trunk and dropped the glue bottle in there. Harry wanted to ask her why, exactly, she needed to fix that... but as she pushed a couple boxes underneath her bed where the board used to be, he found that to be a sufficient enough answer.

Harry didn't want to press on the question, but repeated himself anyway. "So, really, how're you?"

Holly sat down next to him and drew up her knees. It gave him the impression that she was willing to talk, and that was usually a good sign. Holly sighed and shifted her shoulders a bit to find a more comfortable sitting position. "I've been worse, I s'pose. And you?"

He hadn't meant for her to ask back, but he answered her anyway. "Alright."

"That's good."

They sat in silence for an instant before Harry cleared his throat and spoke up again. "S... sorry for not telling you about--y'know--Ron and Hermione." Holly's face was overcome with a slightly troubled look, but she shrugged.

"That's okay. 'S not your fault." She chewed on the inside of her cheeks for a moment before resting her chin between her knees. "I don't understand why Ron didn't want to tell me."

Harry saw this as an opportunity to defend his comrade, and did so. "He didn't want to hurt you." This was a guess--but an educated one. "Either way, you wouldn't have taken it well--right?"

"I guess," she said slowly, "but either way he didn't give me long to think over the whole 'My feelings have faded, I guess. I've fallen for someone else' thing." She was quiet for a second. "Apparently he really had fallen for someone else." Holly laid her forehead in between her knees and sighed before she looked up again. "I can't help but hope that it was all spur of the moment... and now that he thinks about it, he was wrong."

She's being awful open about this, thought Harry. And still... no mention on Hermione's part. "Maybe," he said, as supportively as he could. But all the same, he seriously doubted it.

"And did you see his haircut?! Ick! Did Hermione give him that hack job?!" Yet through it all, she still managed to comment on outer appearance.

"You're just not used to it. His hair used to be like that..."

"Lopsided?" she interjected, cocking an eyebrow.

"No..." Harry retorted, choking back a laugh, "shorter." And with a trademark reaction, Holly rolled her eyes.

"It's brutal--I just didn't want to say anything to him about it." She could be mean, couldn't she? "It was a struggle to hold back from laughing."

"Just think of it like his hair was the only thing he treasured." Harry tried hypothetically. But his petty advice nearly made him laugh. "And if someone took that away... he'd have nothing."

"Wonder if he'd cry..." Holly distantly thought aloud.

Harry smirked. "Nothing works with you, does it?"

"Not really." At least she was in a good mood--sort of. And now that she was grinning a little... it looked like a high point, and the best time to mention Hermione's doing, now that it seemed they were done with Ron's. "So... uh... Hermione..."

"That bitch." Instantly Harry wished he wouldn't have said anything. "First off, she has to go on being annoying as hell, Miss 'Observe my intelligence! Stay off my man! Don't make fun of my nasty hair! Look at me, look at me...'. Then she decides that she'll smear my face in her smarty shit... telling me how simple every assignment is, racing me to answer things in class, and proclaiming to me how I should start studying for semester finals." She growled.

"Then she decides to be all fucking noble in telling me that I shouldn't have snuck a peek into Snape's pensieve and that it wasn't smart to steal that potion, either. It's not as though she didn't run right off to the girls' bathroom on the second floor to prepare an ingredient-checking solution," Holly fumed crossly. Harry regretted getting her started.

"And the entire time she's running around with Ron... and then that fucker gets me into doing her hair and giving her a couple other image touch-ups, making her look nice--for once. 'I was trying a new look'... horse shit!" If it were possible, there would probably be flames erupting from Holly's head, shoulders, and arms right then. Instead she covered her face with her hands and growled some more.

Opting not to encourage Holly to 'calm down' (her reaction would be just the opposite), instead Harry stated, "I've got a letter for you in my dormitory, from Sirius. Come with me and get it."

Holly didn't answer right away, taking her time to cool off since her latest rant. Finally she agreed and slipped off the bed. He led her out, and to his dormitory.

Dean and Seamus were in there, but Harry wasn't sure what they were doing. Although, it was near Neville's bed... so he sensed trouble. Dean turned around as they entered and greeted, "Holly, gorgeous, splendid to see you at this hour. Are you available tonight?" She smirked in return. The odd ended comments, pet names, and flirtatious questions from Dean couldn't mean much to girls around Hogwarts--they all got the same treating each time. But each of them would smile nonetheless.

"I might be," she said evenly.

"Expect me in your dormitory at midnight," he told her. Holly laughed, a warm sound for her mood at the time. Dean and Seamus turned back to what they were doing.

Harry dug for the letter and handed it to her. "Oh, and while you're here..." he held his hands out, palms up. Holly gasped, immediately setting down the letter and grasping her necklace.

"What happened?" she murmured, leaning down and touching the warm metal to each of his hands in turn. With a little white light coming from it, each hand in turn was healed--looking better than they had even before the burns.

"Close encounter with Filch last night... heated up a door handle from the other side," Harry replied, leaving the full details out. But a succession of thoughtful expressions crossed Holly's face, leaving her with glinting eyes he didn't like.

"I'll discuss that with you later..." she said. Maybe Holly knew more than he was aware of... and that was never a good thing. "Thanks for the letter," she added--eyes still glittering a little. "If I think about that whole... thing any longer, I might explode."

And, on cue, the door swung open, permitting Ron. "Kaboom," she breathed before snatching up her letter again. "I'll see you later," Holly muttered in closing before rounding Harry.

"Hey," said Ron. But, as expected, Holly glanced at him for only a second before walking straight past and letting herself out.

*()%()*

Defense Against the Dark Arts with Lupin. His professor was looking under the weather again, with the trademark circles under his eyes and noticeable wrinkles in his robes. He still managed to teach the class very well, although.

Today they'd been focusing (once again) on some reverse jinx spells, that when used correctly, would shoot the curse just aimed at you back at your opponent. There weren't any of these that could counter an Unforgivable Curse, of course, but they were still handy for the time being.

But difficult. Harry had never seen anyone fight back from a Stunning Spell, for example, but there were incantations to use. That was part of your training as a wizard--you needed to know the right spell to use at the right time. And, in this case, had to predict the curse coming at you.

Being a normal thing for Lupin to do--he divvied the class up into pairs and sent them to work on each other. "Stupefy"s and their countering spells were flying through the air. Some of the class, in fact, was learning two new bewitchments being they'd never used a Stunning Spell.

It was Tuesday morning, and even though he'd only had a few classes thus far that week, he found out what Holly's mild revenge on Hermione was. It wasn't so much revenge, as it was an unspoken external battle.

Every question inquired, every guess asked for... Holly's hand would be in the air. It didn't take Hermione long to catch on, and no one even dared to try their share at answering, because either Holly or Hermione would get there first.

In Herbology, Professor Sprout commented on Holly's sudden interest in class, turning her a ripe shade of pink. Hagrid didn't seem to sense anything but knowledge for the few questions he asked during their session with the Clabberts. Snape, of course, overlooked their raised hands part of the time--searching for a Slytherin willing to answer. Occasionally Malfoy, Taryn, and sometimes Blaise would have something to say--but other than that, Holly and Hermione held the most consecutive questions answered.

Lupin, however, seemed to suspect something. His sleepy but keen eyes traveled from one girl to the next, and then the seating arrangement. Holly and Hermione were on opposite ends, books open and attentive. Ron was next to Hermione, glancing back and forth between the girls warily, and Harry was keeping Holly on her end of the table, just to be safe.

Lupin had opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again shortly after--before proceeding to give instructions to pair up and stand to the side as he cleared the desks. Harry grabbed Holly and dragged her to the side, proclaiming her to be his partner. She didn't object, though, and allowed herself to be half-pulled across the room.

"I'm touched, although, was it really that urgent to get me as your partner?" asked Holly nonchalantly, cocking her head to the side.

Harry looked up at her (wait, was he really looking up at her? Couldn't be,) and scowled. "Seriously," he'd asked her this before, "do you have a problem, or something?"

"No," she told him, bending down a little and drawing out the word. The other pairs started to filter over to the side of the room, but not paying them much attention. Harry was going to ask something more, but Hermione and Ron came over at that moment, and he closed his mouth.

Lupin set a large amount of cushions out along either wall, and told the class to send one of their pair to either side. And since then Holly and Harry were jinxing and blocking.

"Stup-"

"Retroago!"

Harry could nearly hear the spell turn around towards Holly in midair.

"Retroago!"

"Ret-"

"Stupefy! Retroago!" Harry was hit double with her block and added spell, and the world went black for only a moment. He sat back up, rubbing the back of his head (he'd missed the cushions). "Sorry 'bout that," she said, holding out her hand.

Feeling a bit helpless, he excepted the assistance to stand. "You cheated."

"Did not!" she replied stoutly.

*()%()*

Friday afternoon, History of Magic. Harry watched over Holly's shoulder as she carefully doodled intricate lines, intersecting here and there, along the edge of her parchment. Curves and circles, it looked like symbols--probably what she'd been learning in the few Quenya tutoring sessions she'd attended. It looked like she was writing the same term or sentence over and over, the accuracy of the lines improving with each swoop of her quill.

A piece of parchment appeared in front of Harry, pulling him out of his zone, averting his stare. The big, carefree handwriting signaled that it was coming to him from Ron.

"If you give me ten Sickles, I'll spit my chewing gum at Binns."

Harry smirked, and opened his inkbottle. Dipping his quill, he wrote, "I'll give you three if you put it in Lavender's hair." The glamorous blonde sat behind Ron with her head down on her desk, fast asleep. He pulled out his wand and tapped the parchment, and it disappeared.

It wasn't long before it was back on Harry's desk. "What'll you give me if I give my gum to Seamus then have him put it in Lavender's hair?"

"Zilch," he scratched, sending the parchment back across the room.

"Ten for Binns?" came Ron's reply.

"Five," haggled Harry.

"Nine."

"Five."

"Eight."

"Five."

Ron's written suggestions began to look doubtful. "Seven?"

"Five," Harry wrote again.

"Six?"

"Five."

"Five?"

Harry smiled down at the parchment. "Done."

It was clear that the class was desperate for entertainment, when Ron--the more subtle kind of joker who really meant no harm--brilliantly faked a coughing fit and spit his chewing gum at Binns.

The wad of pink gum sailed through the ghost's lower neck, and he didn't seem to notice. Seamus did, though, and snickered respectfully. Ron grinned at his Irish housemate in thanks, then turned to his parchment again, scribbling something before it reappeared on Harry's desk.

"You owe me five silver Sickles by tomorrow evening," it said, "Or I'll hold something of yours for a ransom. I'm not exactly sure what I'll be taking yet, but I guarantee you it'll be valuable."

"Okay, Ron, whatever," Harry scrawled before sending the parchment back. It didn't return, so Harry assumed that this non-verbal conversation had finished, and went back to watching Holly write over her shoulder. Nearly half of her paper was covered with the flowing script, and now she was scratching something that looked like a feral imp with a drugged grin.

Harry discovered that Holly had seen he and Cho flying the Friday previous when in the Astronomy Tower. Unfortunately he'd forgotten his godsister would be in there that night around the time they were finishing their "date". Mandy had seen too, of course, and a knowing smirk across the Advanced Astronomy classroom that Tuesday was enough to let him know. But Holly had tormented him about it, poking until he surrendered the information that they were planning to go flying again that day after classes were out.

She hadn't said anything to anyone else though, that he knew of, and he was appreciative of that. Harry hadn't asked for her word that she'd keep her lips sealed, but trusted that she wouldn't spread the secret like a bad weed.

More people were bound to find out, anyway.

Now she was drawing her name in amateur graffiti-like bubble letters.

After she'd left his dormitory following Ron's entrance on Saturday night, Dean had let out a long, low whistle. "Shot down," he'd remarked, shaking his head at Ron. "Ouch. Now, what could that be about, hm?"

His sarcasm was so apparent that Ron's face had fallen almost immediately. He glanced over at Harry, who had nodded, and groaned. "Like it was going to last," said Seamus, "she'd find out."

"She's still got that love-struck look for you, mate," Dean had remarked, batting his eyelashes. "Would I make a good rebound?"

Harry wasn't sure whether it was a good thing or not, but from then on Ron and Hermione had become a lot more--open--about their relationship. Just really little things, like holding hands, but it was more obvious.

Around her name, Holly sketched balloon-like stars.

Harry's mind wandered to Cho. Quidditch pitch, four o' clock. They'd fly until dinner, at the latest.

That worked well, he thought, because there was a party in the common room later that evening. He had a faint inkling that it was Holly who'd planned all of it, because apparently Emerson had been sliding the flyers under the boys' dormitory doors. Who else would rope the kid into doing stuff for them?

The bell rang (Harry had never actually seen where the sound came from) and those whom were still awake nudged their snoozing friends before scrambling towards the door.

"So," drawled Holly, dashing over to him and wrapping an arm around his neck with a devilish grin, "who's your lucky girl tonight? Cha-Cha... again?"

"I can't believe you still remember that..." Harry mumbled.

"What?" Holly said, detaching herself from him and putting a hand behind her ear. "How could I forget? I still have things to say about her."

"About who?" he asked, warily watching Parvati and Lavender walk by. They didn't seem to hear, though, so he was safe.

"Cha-Cha." She gave him a closed-lip smile.

Although he didn't want to say it, and would gladly tell people that he was dating Cho Chang, he couldn't. "It's nothing, Holly."

"Pff!"

"Really," Harry insisted.

"I know, I know," she paused as Neville slumped past, watching him with alert eyes, "it's not just porn... she's your special naked friend. Will she being using the wand this time, or the Firebolt?"

"You're disgusting." They turned the corner and faced the Fat Lady. Harry checked behind him... Ron and Hermione were no where to be seen, Dean and Seamus were a little ways behind. "Anthochaera."

*()%()*

They flew under curving bridges, and around menacing gargoyles. Some of the stone guardians swiped claws at them, others growled or cawed, and others yet simply beat their wings once or twice, bearing their teeth.

The gray winter days didn't dampen Harry's spirits, but he would definitely prefer a sunny, summery yellow. The scenes didn't matter much though, when flying. Everything passed in a blur, whether it be owls or Firebolt-mounted Ravenclaws.

Yes, Harry had been kind enough to lend the superior broom to Cho this time around, who cut in front of him from time to time to comment on how maybe, just maybe, the broom did make the Seeker.

Before he could protest, though, she would zoom off, searing the air and giggling.

Harry and Cho swooped in circles around each other and did vertical dives for what seemed like only a few minutes. Soon Harry caught up with her, still not enjoying what felt like the rough ride of her Cleansweep 50. She was floating, stationary, looking at her watch.

Slightly downbeat, they went back into the castle, dropped their brooms off in either dormitory, and met halfway to go to dinner.

They entered the Hall together, splitting up to go to their separate tables.

Holly was off and away from the rest of the people placed at the Gryffindor table, sitting across from Ginny. Naturally, she spotted him first and casually winked at Harry before turning back to the Weasley. She reached over and set her long fingers over the hand of the younger girl, saying something. Holly lifted up Ginny's hand and moved it back and forth before setting it back down.

Ginny's dark eyes were on the table, and she nodded her head. Harry fervently hoped that whatever Holly just said had nothing to do with him. Ginny ran the side of her hand under her eye and showed Holly a feeble grin.

He wasn't sure whether there was just more crying lately, or if he'd just come to start noticing the girls holding back from tears running down their cheeks all over the place. It was like school wide P.M.S. There was something about girls with tears running down their cheeks that just made Harry incredibly uncomfortable. And there was a new one weeping over something every day!

But, never Ginny... not since, before. In second year.

Holly showed the girl what must have been the first sincere smile he'd seen on his godsister's face for a long time. Holly could be so fake around other people, but never Ginny.

Noticing that he was standing in the middle of the isle, unmoving, staring at the two girls... Harry felt a blush rise as he found a spot by Ron and Hermione. He sat down and dished himself some... well, it looked sort of like pasta.

His eyes traveled back in Ginny and Holly's direction--but they were gone.

*()%()*

Harry stayed late at dinner, until he was one of the only ones left at the table. There he sat, poking absently at his cold food, until someone tapped him on the shoulder. It was Cho.

"What're you still doing here, Harry?" she questioned. Harry pushed away his plate and stood up, swinging one leg over the bench followed by the other.

"Just..." he paused, thinking about what, exactly, he'd been doing, "nothing." Harry brushed off his shirt, just in case there were crumbs all down his front. "What about you?"

She started to walk towards the doors that opened up into the entrance hall, and Harry followed at her side. "Talking with some of my friends, that's all." Some of her friends? Cho had been sitting with a cluster of about eight other girls. "You were looking a little lonely over here."

They ascended the marble steps off the entrance hall into the first corridor. "Damn," he said, "I was going for thoughtful." She laughed a little, which was good, because the comment was supposed to be funny. "Planning to go back to your common room?"

"Eventually," she told him, flicking her hair over her shoulder. "Want to take a walk?"

"Sure," he said, turning down the next corridor with her. "You aren't sick of me yet today?"

Cho turned her head and smiled up at him. "No," she shrugged, "not yet."

*()%()*

"Is that all of 'em, Lavender?" Holly asked as her roommate dropped a few more bottles of butterbeer into her arms.

"Yep," she said, "I think so. Don't you want to put it all in a big bowl and get some cups or something?"

"No," Holly set the last of the butterbeer on the table, "then someone would dump something it." She situated the bottles so there were even spaces between all of them.

"Ooh, good thinking," said Lavender before walking away.

Holly stepped away from the table and looked at the setup. The Three Broomsticks landlady gave her quite the discount, since she was buying so much. There went a good fraction of her Christmas money... but oh well.

An arm around her neck pulled her to the left. "Is this all your making?" Cameron asked, bending down his head, black hair hanging in front of Holly's eyes.

"Sure thing, Camaroon. Are you coming?" she asked.

Cameron smiled. "I'm here, am I not?"

"True."

"But, I'm wondering, what's the occasion? I mean--we didn't win a Quidditch match or anything..."

Holly rolled her eyes. "No kidding."

"Can I bring some punch?" he asked, steering her around the table.

"Is it going to be spiked?" Holly questioned in return.

He pulled her down on the sofa at his side. "Isn't all punch that way?"

"No... actually," she stated. "Now--get off, you rebel, and bug someone else."

He was in an odd sort of mood, Holly noted, as she slipped out from underneath his arm and stood up. She glanced back at him and smiled, observing that he still looked about ten years old, dimples and all, when he did the same. That's one of the first things she'd noticed about the fifth year, and it was still there.

Cameron must've had a tad too much of his punch.

Ginny was across the room, holding a piece of parchment and a quill. "Hey, Gin," said Holly, walking up to her.

"...and--Canary Creams."

Holly pointed to the cluster of hexed custard creams near the edge of the table. "Check."

Ginny made a mark on the piece of parchment and handed it to Holly. "We've got everything, then," she told the sixth year, resting a hand on her hip.

"Make sure," Holly stressed, "to tell the twins that I love them both."

Ginny sniggered. "I will."

There was a pause, far from uncomfortable--of course, before Holly asked, "How ya doin'?"

"I'm fine..."

Holly stammered for a moment, before deciding not to tell her. "You'll have fun tonight," she said, "I promise. Anything I can do for ya?"

"You think something up." It was rare indeed when someone asked Holly to do something for him or her of her own making. But this was Ginny. Trusting and familiar, she gave Holly the opportunity to let the crooked gears of her mind turn without question.

Holly smiled before turning to Dean. "Hey, do you have all the CDs?"

"I do!" He held his arms out towards his table, showing her the array of disc cases that had been owled in. "Labeled by the owners and everything."

"Who's gonna DJ?"

"Um... third year... er..." he snapped his fingers a couple times in an attempt to jog his memory, "Creevy! Yeah, Dennis. He knows the rules."

"Okay," Holly said slowly, "was he the one walking around with the blue visor on sideways?"

Dean pointed at her and confirmed, "That's the guy."

"He was lookin' pretty pimped out," she remarked, wrinkling her nose a little.

Dean nodded. "I think Colin was going to help him. He said something about finding his 'ice'..."

More and more people had been filing in through the portrait hole and dormitory doors. Jackie--the short, blonde, seventh year--finished charming the lights. Colin slipped his wand through the middle of one CD and held it up, saying the incantation clearly.

The wand levitated, and the disc shot upwards, connected to the wand by the thin beams of light coming from it. There were a few scattered 'Ooh!'s before the music blasted to take over any competing sound.

*()%()*

Arriving back at the entrance to the common room, he heard the muffled noise of what must've been very loud music. The Fat Lady was flinching with every beat in the song. "What an awful racket," she noted softly. "Password?"

"Anthochaera," Harry said cautiously. The Fat Lady shut her eyes tight and stuck her fingers in her ears as she swung open to admit him, accompanied by a blast of music and the noise of people trying to talk to each other over the tune.

The music echoed down the corridor, and quickly Harry jumped through the portrait hole and slammed it shut.

There were people dancing around on the tables, on the furniture, and on the floor (naturally). One of the round tables was covered with bottles of butterbeer, being taken by passerby now and then. Another had piles of what were, most likely, sweets invented by Fred and George Weasley. If that were the case, anyway, it would explain the large canaries squawking here and there and the yellow feathers scattering the floor like confetti. Harry didn't see any four-foot-long tongues, though... thank God.

A brunette head kept bobbing above the crowd, working its way closer to Harry. He watched the round eyes he recognized as Holly's look over shoulders and heads, jumping now and then when she ran into someone taller than she was. "Hey!" she shouted, "Hey!"

She fought her way through a clump of people, parting them with her arms, before she was at the edge of the crowd, standing in front of him. "Hey, I have a request," she yelled over the blaring music.

"What is it?" he shouted back, hardly hearing his own voice.

"I'm supposed to be doing a... a favor," Holly explained loudly, "for Ginny. And I can't think of anything that would make her more ecstatic than getting a little attention from someone!"

Harry looked at her as she leaned forward to hear his reply better. "Like who?"

"Oh, like, um, you're going to be dancing with her for every slow song. I'll let you do your thing for the fast ones," she exclaimed.

Harry gazed blankly at Holly for a moment before asking, "Who came up with this--you or her?"

"Me!" she elaborated proudly, "But, I'm sure she was hoping that's what I'd decide to do." Holly watched him, waiting for a reply.

"I... I can't dance, really," he told her over the music.

"Do I give a damn? No--no, I don't think I do," she shouted, "I'm asking you to dance with her! Not fuck her!"

Harry pondered her request for a moment before agreeing. "Good!" Holly exclaimed, "Next three are slow songs."

She stood on her tiptoes for a little while, not looking at Harry, before dashing off--sighting her prey.

Holly was right, he noted, as he worked his way through the students, looking for any sight of red hair that wasn't six feet from the ground. The next song was a lot mellower. Harry was weaving in and out of dancing couples, when he spotted Ginny--talking to Lila Jordan.

Lila locked eyes with Harry, said something to the Weasley, nodding in his direction. Ginny hesitated before turning around, and by that time he was right behind her, holding out his arms with a half-grin... just to make it look better. He might as well have some fun with it.

Ginny laughed and looked back at Lila, who motioned with her hands for her to join him. Harry, even at sixteen, still wasn't sure how this dancing thing worked. Where did he put his hands again?

He didn't catch the lyrics, although they were still in the first song. Harry distantly wondered what he was doing--he'd just been strolling along through the castle with Cho, talking like old friends. And now he was slow dancing with Ginny. On request, Harry reminded himself.

Not that he would have passed it up anyway.

Harry caught the chorus now... bits and pieces. Ginny was singing along with it, very quietly. It was a sappy song, with a bit of a twang in it.

"I need you like water, like breath, like rain

I need you like mercy from Heaven's gate"

Holly and Brandon, an odd-looking couple, were sliding through gaps to get near Ginny and Harry. 'Hey!' mouthed Holly. She added something to this that he didn't quite get.

Harry checked that Ginny wasn't looking right at him, and mouthed 'What?' She lip-synched whatever she'd said before, but he still didn't catch it. Holly muttered something to Brandon, and he steered her around Harry and Ginny without the Weasley's notice.

"Your hands," she mumbled. "You're dancing like it's 1946. Let's show 'im, songbird."

Holly and Brandon circled them again, the fourth year demonstrating to his superior how to switch to what was recognized as the 'correct' way to dance. Harry mimicked him quite well before letting his mind wander again.

"There's a freedom in your arms, yeah, that carries me through

I need you"

Holly wasn't lying in saying they were playing three slow songs in a row, either. Harry and Ginny danced for what was a little over ten minutes, he thought, before a faster song started and she broke away with a little smirk.

*()%()*

"Ehh... I'd say Parvati's a little touchier. Holly's like, 'Watch me work it--touch me and I'll knee you in the groin.' Yeah, that's about right," Dean said, nodding.

"Sounds good," Seamus said, "Which one do you want first?"

This is absolutely sickening, Harry thought.

"I'll take Holly--I think. But first we have to wait for a song with a... with a good beat. If I can't find her... I call Lavender."

"Fine," Seamus agreed, "I'd get Ginny then." Harry tried to tell himself that that wasn't a quick wave of jealousy that washed over him.

"Ron wouldn't be happy with you for that one."

Seamus raised his eyebrow. "So what? I think everyone should have the privilege to kiss the Irish." They went silent for a few minutes until the next tune began to blare.

"Shake that thing miss Kana, Kana

Shake that thing miss Annabella

Shake that thing ya Donna, Donna

Jodi and Rebecca

Woman, get busy,

Just shake that booty nonstop

When the beat drops

Just keep swingin' it"

"Perfect!" exclaimed Dean, throwing his hands into the air in victory.

Harry sat out for most of these songs, drinking butterbeer casually and watching the rest of the Gryffindors dance. Some made fools of themselves, intentionally or not, others attracted attention, and others did nothing at all.

The two comrades, Dean and Seamus, had been grading the ability of each girl to dance and what category they would fit in. "Stripper", "Choreographed", "Wired", and "Crippled" were some examples. Then they made their plans as to whom they were going to dance with and when.

Harry tore his eyes away from Seamus and Parvati--that was disgusting. The Creevy brothers were in a corner behind a table stacked with disc cases. The younger one, Dennis, was wearing a visor on his head sideways, and Colin had what looked like a zircon and plastic piece of massive jewelry around his neck. It definitely had the appearance of something purchased from a Sickle Store--there were a few gems missing. They wore matching black sunglasses.

The song ended, and another started up. Seamus and Dean switched girls, and when running past each other gave one another a high five.

Harry laughed and leaned up against the wall. Hermione, dragging Ron through the people by his hand, worked her way over. Hermione opened her mouth to speak, and Harry leaned his head down to hear her better. "Who's going to be cleaning all of this up!?" she shouted.

"Whoever planned it, I hope," Harry yelled back. This party was twice as loud as any that the Gryffindors had held before (in his time at Hogwarts), and yet McGonagall still hadn't barged in.

"You don't look like you're having much fun," observed Ron. "Why don't you go dance, or something?" he suggested.

"'Cause I don't dance," Harry told him, for what must have been the fiftieth time since fourth year.

"Fine, your loss. C'mon, Hermione," Ron said, tugging a little on her shoulder. Since when did Ron dance?

"No, no, I think I'll sit this one out," she asserted, giving Ron a meaningful look. Either Ron didn't catch the expression or didn't care, because he started to walk away.

"Okay... come find me later, then," he replied with a wave. Harry cast a quick glance at Hermione who was scowling in the direction of Ron's retreating back.

"Something wrong?" asked Harry, leaning towards Hermione and talking over the music.

"No," she explained, "it's just this would be a good time to utilize the common room for studying."

Hermione's serious tone and expression left Harry with a struggle to keep from laughing. She was still the same old Hermione, apparently. "Looks like you've got a nemesis within Gryffindor, eh?"

"I guess," she said.

*()%()*

Dean walked past, waving at Harry. He looked, seeing Dean guiding Parvati along with his hand around her waist. Dean pointed down at the black-haired girl, grinned, and gave Harry a thumbs up.

Harry snorted and shook his head. The song ended, and was replaced by one featuring a piano. This was another indolent melody, and Harry spotted Ginny right away.

Half-reluctantly keeping his word, he worked his way over to Ginny again. He extended a hand and she took it, and with a playful yank he pulled her towards him. She laughed. Remembering Holly's hurried advice and Brandon's directions, Harry held what was the correct position to slow-dance.

Ginny seemed to know her sentence, because she didn't question that Harry insisted on dancing with her for every unhurried aria. This tune wasn't quite as mushy as the others, he noticed.

"I can't stand to fly

I'm not that naive

I'm just out to find

The better part of me"

Harry cast a quick glance around... Lavender and Seamus were dancing, or, rather, swaying back and forth with their arms around each other. Colin and Dennis were snapping their fingers on every offbeat. Harry wasn't sure whether Colin looked better with the tacky necklace hanging from his neck or the oversized camera.

"I'm more than a bird

I'm more than a plane

More than some pretty face beside a train

It's not easy to be me"

Harry looked back down at Ginny who smiled a little before looking away. Harry sighed to himself. She was nearly a head taller than Cho, he noticed, making it a lot easier to talk with her. To even hear what Cho said half the time (her voice was sort of soft, and reserved), Harry had to lean down, like he did for Hermione. Maybe he should chat more with Ginny, he thought, to lessen the strain on his neck.

"Wish that I could cry

Fall upon my knees

Find a way to lie

About a home I'll never see"

This was a good song.

"It may sound absurd

But don't be naive

Even heroes have the right to bleed

I may be disturbed

But won't you concede

Even heroes have the right to dream

It's not easy to be me"

Yeah, it wasn't really that bad.

Harry saw Holly sitting on the back of a sofa, feet resting on a table that was pushed up against it. With her head resting on her hand, she smiled (in a way that wasn't at all impish) at Harry and Ginny. Clearly she'd let Brandon alone now.

*()%()*

Midnight came, and as soon as the clock struck--the last song ended. Everyone was tired, and the majority went up to their dormitories. The Muggle-borns grabbed the disc cases that belonged to them and the last of the sweets were nicked (the butterbeer had run out long before).

Harry stayed downstairs to see if Holly would, too. She did, and grabbed a broom that had been sitting in the corner along with what looked like two plastic trash bags. She rolled a large dustbin into the middle of the common room before she'd noticed Harry was still there. "Yes?" said Holly, stooping to pick up a half-empty bottle of butterbeer that'd been spilt all over the floor.

"You started this whole thing?" he assumed.

She dropped the bottle into the trash bag and used a Drought Charm to clean up the spilt butterbeer. Or, the part of it that was water--anyway. She was left with something oily mixed with powder, and that she managed to sweep into a pile of canary feathers. "Well, yeah."

"Why?" he asked, "We didn't win a Quidditch match or anything...."

"No. Shit," she said through her teeth.

Harry cast a look around the common room. Ron and Hermione were sitting at a wrapper-scattered table across the room, talking. Or, rather, Hermione was talking, and Ron was listening silently. "You want help?" Harry asked Holly.

"Sure," she said, handing him the trash bag.

Harry stooped and began picking up bottles, wrappers, and anything else that would be best picked up versus being swept into an increasingly larger pile.

Lavender came in from behind the girls' dormitories door. "What's wrong?" Harry asked, looking up from the floor.

"There's a scrunchie around the door handle," Lavender said. Holly straightened up, looking at the blonde with wide eyes.

"Parvati?" Holly assumed.

"I think so... like I was going to check!" she replied, shuddering. Holly flinched.

"What?" questioned Harry, breaking into their silence.

"The Scrunchie Rule," Lavender elaborated. "When one of us might happen to take a... a man friend... into the dormitory, there's a scrunchie on the inside of the door that can be moved to the outside door handle."

"Like a fluffy, pink, 'Keep Out' sign," added Holly. "How long do you suppose it's been there?" she said, directing the question towards the other girl.

"I don't know," said Lavender, "I haven't seen her for about... an hour."

Harry decided this was his time to put in, "I saw her and Dean leaving the common room earlier."

"Oh, God," Holly mumbled, putting a hand over her eyes. Lavender wrinkled her nose a little bit.

"Ah. Well, where should I go?"

Holly pulled her hair back over her shoulders. "Your choices would be to either wait, stay here and clean, sit down with Ron and Hermione, or sleep in another dormitory."

Lavender pondered this for a second before saying, "I think I'll go see if the Jackie has a spare cot in her room."

"Make sure to alert Hermione," Holly told her, nodding her head towards where she and Ron were sitting. Lavender did so, and Harry watched as a disgusted look crossed Hermione's face and Ron started to snicker.

*()%()*

A while later Harry interrupted Holly, who was singing to herself as she swept the last of the feathers and other junk into her dustbin. "Can I ask you something?"

Holly stopped singing, checked that they were still far enough away from Ron and Hermione so they couldn't hear well if they spoke softly enough. "Go for it," she said, bending down to finish off her sweeping.

"Is something wrong with Ginny?"

Holly straightened up, tipping the dustbin back upright. "Why? Are you concerned, or something?"

That sounded a lot more like a rude accusation coming from Holly than a question. "Well, yes. Tell me the truth," he said.

Holly looked at him, long and hard. "It's she's just been... she's...." She frowned, clearly battling against herself whether she should begin to spiel. "Look, don't tell anybody, okay?"

"Okay."

"I want you to promise," she said.

"I promise."

"Not even Ginny. You can't say a word."

"Not a word," he agreed.

"If you repeat this," she continued, putting emphasis on her words, "I'll wash your mouth out with toilet cleanser. I swear to God I will."

"Okay," said Harry, exasperated.

She gazed at him for an instant longer before saying, "Alright, she's been... she's..." Holly stopped again, jutting her jaw out at an angle. "She's been dreaming about--about the Chamber...again." Harry waited for her to elaborate. "She has been for a while. Always about Riddle, I guess."

"Hold on," said Harry, "is she dreaming about things that happened, or...?"

Holly paused again, looking at him. "She doesn't think so. Ginny says that he just--he just talks to her... tells her things. It's got her freaked." Holly went quiet. "She told me what happened," she continued, softly, "all of it. How Tom inhabited her mind through the diary, and stuff. And, well, I... uh... I..."

Harry urged, "You what?"

"I uh... I think he's still there," Holly opined.

A freezing sensation started in the back of his throat and passed down into his stomach, and continued right to his feet. "What do you mean?" he croaked.

"I mean... I just think he's a little voice inside her head. Half of her thoughts." Holly sighed. "My guess is Ginny's a..." she trailed off again.

"A what?" Holly didn't answer. Harry stepped closer, and she backed up. "A what, Holly?"

"A... a Soul-Switcher."

"What--what's that?" Harry asked nervously.

"Nothing bad--just--a little... dangerous," Holly assured him.

Harry said, "I don't know about you, but I usually think of those as the same thing." Not exactly a quality of Gryffindor, he thought.

"Well, that's you," Holly stated. "Anyway, if I remember right, a Soul-Switcher is a person with two, er, spirits. Not necessarily one good and one bad, more like an annoying parasite with a voice. Yeah...."

"So you think," Harry said slowly, "that Riddle is living inside of Ginny?" He definitely considered having a teenage Voldemort living inside your head a bad thing.

"Yeah, that's about how it goes."

Harry shut his eyes. "He can control her, then?"

"No... no." Harry didn't want to think it, but it really looked like Holly wasn't actually too sure about this. "Body number one has final say, I think. She should be able to control him, actually."

"But, what if she can't?!" Ron and Hermione looked over, and Holly hurriedly shushed him.

"Ginny's a big girl. As--as long as the diary isn't there to back Riddle up, she's got it under control."

"But... but what if she opens the Chamber again?" he whispered.

"There's nothing in there," she said, "so it shouldn't matter, should it?" Harry felt a blush rising in his face. "That's what I thought."

"What does a Soul-Switcher do, actually?" Harry asked half-timidly.

"They can--can switch back and forth from, in this case, Ginny and Riddle. It's like being an Animagus, but... not," Holly explained, "But it takes practice to turn into that second spirit bodily."

"Does Ron know?" Harry asked. Holly shook her head. "I'll tell him..."

"No!" she snapped. "You can't."

"But, Holly," Harry insisted in a whisper, "she's possessed by the darkest wizard of all time! Something needs to be done about it!"

He turned, on reflex, to tell him. But, Holly reached out, closed her cold hand around his arm and yanked him back. "You can't," she said through gritted teeth, angry eyes locked onto his. They softened in a moment though. "You--you're not supposed to know." Holly shut her eyes and rubbed them with her fingertips, sighing angrily. "You're not supposed to know..."