Harry Potter and the Silent Siege

Chapter 6

The New Headmaster

A flocked of frightened sheep made their way down the craggy slope of what had until only a few moments before been Jacob McClelland's farm. The sound of slow and measured footsteps - human footsteps - silently rustled the grass just behind them.

Dumbledore and Sirius both clenched their wands tightly as they heard the footsteps strike against the roof of the cave. Any moment now and the owners of the footsteps would walk down to the front of the cave. With any luck, they would pass it by, but the two wizards knew they could not depend on this. Both of them held their breath in silence.

Sirius could feel his heart pounding in his chest as the backs of two black cloaked Death Eaters moved into their field of vision directly in front of the cave, the folds of their robes strangely sharp in the bright clear sun. They had yet to turn around and notice the cave opening - and then there was the invisibility tent - but all they had to do was to try and walk in and look around and the game would be up.

It was then that Sirius heard a rustling sound behind him that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He looked slowly around to see that Buckbeak had chosen this extremely inopportune moment to decide to feel well enough to open his eyes and start to look around. The Hippogriff moved its head up so that it now touched the top of the cave and the folds of the invisibility tent. Afraid to make any movement himself, Sirius tried desperately to make eye contact with Buckbeak, whose head now jutted forward, clearly not pleased with the cramped surroundings and obviously interested in finding food.

Sirius turned around in the other direction, hoping that the Death Eaters had moved on but they had stopped walking and now stood in a spot about ten yards in front of the cave, looking over the nearby hills for any sign of movement. He could still hear Buckbeak moving around behind him. Any minute now and one or both of the Death Eaters was going to turn around and find it suspicious to hear scraping noises coming from the inside of an apparently empty cave. Sirius edged forward slightly and grabbed his wand tightly in his hand. He could feel a now familiar rush of adrenalin flow through his body. His eyes narrowed into predatory slits as he gently edged the tip of his wand outside the flap of the tent.

Suddenly, Buckbeak's right hoof moved forward and a stone dislodged from inside the cave and started to roll down the mountain toward the Death Eaters. Sirius brought his wand back to strike but in the time it took to blink an eye there was a sudden rush of movement to Sirius' right. With the agility of a gazelle, Dumbledore leapt out of the cave opening. Before his feet had even touched the rocky ground outside the cave, Dumbledore had transfigured himself into an enormous mountain troll and clutched a large wooden club in his hand where there had been a wand moments before.

There was a loud thud as the troll's feet hit the ground. The two Death Eaters turned around in horror, not noticing Buckbeak's stone roll harmlessly down the mountain. The troll let out a bellowing roar that made all of the supplies in the cave rattle and shake. He swung his club viciously at the Death Eaters causing them to back away. Finally, as they continued to simply back away from the troll slowly, he advanced toward them with his club raised, crushing large boulders under its feet, and made to run after the now terrified Death Eaters. The Death Eaters then turned on their heels and tore down the hill, the troll in close pursuit. After reaching an area several hundred yards past the mouth of the cave opening, one of the Death Eaters seemed to remember that he could disapparate and did so, followed closely by his terrified companion.

Sirius watched as Dumbledore or whatever it was he had become lumbered his way back to the cave entrance in three large strides, causing Buckbeak to meekly step back into the far corner of the cave. The troll looked around from side to side with a curious expression on its face and then undramatically transfigured back into Dumbledore and slipped back inside the invisibility tent.

Sirius watched in incredulity as Dumbledore idly picked out an apple from his bag of food supplies and began munching away. Finally, he looked at Dumbledore and said:

"Is there anything you can't transfigure yourself into?"

Dumbledore looked up and smiled. "Once again, I'm afraid sheep still prove rather elusive. Don't look so surprised," added Dumbledore modestly. "I wasn't always headmaster after all; I did use to teach Transfiguration." He then returned to concentrate on the apple as though that should explain everything.

"I don't suppose I shouldn't ask whether you are registered?"

"I wouldn't, no."

Sirius looked at the ground for a moment and then back up at Dumbledore again. "Why did you run in front of my wand like that? I was about to curse them. I could have hit you."

"I know." Dumbledore returned his gaze for a brief moment then turned his attention back to the apple.

"What - " Sirius did not finish his question. His face suddenly clouded over. "You thought I was going to kill them, didn't you?"

Dumbledore stopped eating and looked directly at Sirius.

"I admit. I thought you might have," he muttered finally.

"I wasn't - " Sirius began. "I wouldn't have - " He stopped himself again. "You don't trust me, do you?"

Dumbledore looked for a brief moment as though he had suffered a blow to the face, but then quickly recovered.

"If I did not trust you, Sirius," he said slowly, "then you would not be here right now."

Sirius shuddered despite himself. "Then why didn't you trust me to curse them myself?"

Dumbledore didn't answer for a moment. Then he said in a very old, gravelly voice:

"Polyjuice Potion. The boy Dudley. I wish he hadn't had to die."

Sirius' face flushed in anger. "And do you think I wanted his death?"

Dumbledore did not back down. "I think that you wanted Harry to survive, whatever the cost."

Sirius looked down. "All they gave him his whole life was grief and misery," he muttered.

"And I very much fear," said Dumbledore quietly, "that their death could give him very much the same."

Sirius didn't answer and so, after a moment, Dumbledore went on.

"You spent twelve years in Azkaban, Sirius," Dumbledore said softly. "I could not have done what you did. I'm not sure if anyone could have. You know how to survive, much better than I do. It is a strength on which we will very much have to depend. But I have lived for rather a long time now. And I have seen many very dark things develop when one tries to convince oneself that the end justifies the means."

Sirius suddenly looked at Dumbledore with a savage expression. "You talk to me about means and ends, after what you're planning?" he demanded, his temper barely in check.

Dumbledore looked down, a very sad expression creeping into his eyes. "Perhaps I, too, have become desperate. It is sometimes difficult to tell whether it is more important to rid the world of Voldemort or to avoid succeeding him with another."

Sirius suddenly felt his anger ebb away. The old wizard's self-effacement had the shrewd effect of taking the ground right out from under his opponents' feet. But Sirius was determined not to finish the discussion until he was fully satisfied.

"At least I told Harry what the Polyjuice Potion was for. You haven't told him anything this time."

For once, Dumbledore managed not to look Sirius in the eye.

"And you would?" he asked.

Sirius did not answer for a long time. He looked up at Buckbeak who had sunken back into a sleepy stupor, his brief exploration of the cave's interior having been enough to completely wear him out.

"No," he murmured finally.

"Well, then," said Dumbledore quietly. "I will ask you once again, Sirius, to join me, for Harry's sake, and for the sake of all of those who are still as true as he. I do not know how much longer we can hope to have the strength to stop Voldemort."

Sirius did not respond for a long moment, and then just nodded.

"Good," said Dumbledore, letting out a sigh. "If you wouldn't mind giving me your Portkey."

Sirius reached in the folds of his cloak and produced the bowler hat that he used to transport Harry and himself from the Dursleys.

"I think," said Dumbledore, stating the obvious, "that we need to find a new hiding place rather quickly. I'm afraid it may not take the Death Eaters too long to reflect on how a mountain troll happened to be standing on a Muggle farm in front of a cave several sizes too small for it. I don't think Buckbeak looks very much like moving at the moment still. I know a place where we will be much safer but I need to reconfigure this Portkey."

Sirius nodded.

"We can spend the night safely there, then I will apparate back to Hogwarts to make the arrangements we had discussed, that is, if you think you are well enough to look after Buckbeak."

"I'd feel much safer if you were back at Hogwarts," was Sirius' reply.

"Very well, then. After that, we will rendezvous again in two days and then proceed from there." Dumbledore placed the hat in front of him and took out his wand. "As you know, re-programming a portkey is a rather time-consuming operation."

Sirius knew that this was a hint that Dumbledore needed to concentrate, but there was one more thing he needed to ask. "Would you by chance be re-apparating to Hogwarts via Hogsmeade?"

"I could." Dumbledore looked at Sirius out of one open eye, the other presumably concentrating on the Portkey spell.

Sirius reached into his pocket and took a few gold galleons. "There's something I'd like you to get, for Harry."

***

Harry was used to arriving for the great feast starving from the long ride to school on the Hogwarts Express. But today he hardly felt like eating a thing, partially because he was still a little full from lunch, but mostly because he had nasty suspicion he already knew who the new headmaster would be. Ron, Hermione, and he sat unusually quietly as the Great Hall around them buzzed with curious conversation from the wild rumors going around the school that Professor Dumbledore was not returning this year.

Harry looked up at the staff table. All of the usual teachers were present along with a balding man with a crooked nose and a lean face whom Harry did not recognize. He guessed must be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Professor Snape was also present in his usual position and Harry thought he looked even gaunter than usual, if that were possible. No one sat in the Headmaster's chair which added fuel to the burning flames of rumor spreading in every direction of the hall.

Finally, Professor McGonagall stood up and tapped her spoon gently on the side of a goblet.

"Can I have everyone's attention, please?" The stern look on McGonagall's face succeeded in bringing about silence more than the clinking of her glass.

"Normally we would begin with the sorting ceremony. But today I feel it is best to begin with an important announcement."

The hall was once again filled with the sound of hushed whispers.

"Please be silent," said McGonagall and the whispering gradually died down. McGonagall paused for a moment longer as if unsure exactly where to begin.

"I'm not sure what your parents have told you but these are very dangerous times now in the wizarding world. Let me make clear, however, that every student should feel safe so long as he or she remains inside the school. As you know, our headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, has for many years fought against dark wizards of all kinds. He is famous for his defeat of Grindewald and, as many of you may know, he has played a pivotal role in the fight against - "

McGonagall did not finish her sentence immediately. The room was now completely silent and all eyes focused on her expectantly.

"- Voldemort," McGonagall finished, almost under her breath.

The students in the hall reacted as if McGonagall had roared the name out in a tone loud enough to shake the foundations of the castle. There many gasps and then the whispers continued again, much more loudly. Even Professor Sprout put her hand to mouth in surprise that McGonagall had dared to say the name of the feared Dark Lord. McGonagall herself went a shade of scarlet and took a sip of water from her goblet as if saying Voldemort's name had taken all of the energy out of her. Harry had the impression that saying Voldemort's name had been something that Dumbledore had made her promise to do.

Harry turned to look at the Slytherin table and saw Malfoy staring at McGonagall with an expression of venom on his face.

It took a moment for McGonagall to regain her authority but then she hit the side of her goblet with her spoon again, somewhat more forcefully. "Silence, please!" she insisted.

The hall went quiet again rather quickly.

"It is for me to announce," McGonagall continued, somewhat haltingly, "that Professor Dumbledore has chosen to take a year of sabbatical in order to devote his full efforts to the defeat of the Dark Lord and to ensure the safety of this school and its students."

McGonagall paused as the hall broke once again into chatter. This time, McGonagall waited for the murmurs to die down by themselves before continuing.

"Needless to say, it is impossible to replace a wizard of Professor Dumbledore's legend. Fortunately, this year, one of our very own staff has volunteered to take his place. I am very honored to announce our new acting headmaster, Professor Severus Snape."

A loud cheer arose from the Slytherin table while the other students found it a great effort to provide even polite applause.

Ron turned around to look at Harry and Hermione, an expression of mute horror transfixed to his face.

"It - it - can't be," he muttered, his complexion reverting to a waxy white.

Harry looked over to Hermione and saw that she was nodding at Ron, but, like he himself, was not terribly surprised. He then looked over to the Slytherin table and was equally unsurprised to see Malfoy staring straight at him, a gleam of delight in his eyes in equal proportion to the look of horror and fear in Ron's. Beside him, Crabbe and Goyle sat giggling stupidly. It was clear they had known already and had been waiting for this moment all day. Harry stared back, his lips pursed in a thin line. He was determined not to give them any satisfaction.

All around the Gryffindor table, students stared at each other with expressions not unlike Ron's. They looked searchingly in their friends' eyes as fellow prisoners preparing to eat their last meal before an execution. Harry's stomach began to churn like an ice-cream maker as saw out of the corner of his eye Snape walk over, expressionless, at sit on the headmaster's chair - Dumbledore's chair.

Snape ended the Slytherin cheering with a loud clap of his hands.

His eyes darted around the room, determined to spot an idle or inattentive student, but the students were too frightened to look anywhere else. It seemed that Snape could accomplish with the movement of his eyes what other teachers sometimes failed to achieve with hoarse voices.

"The sorting ceremony may now commence," was all Snape finally said and sat down again.

The first year students, whose sorting had been delayed the night before by Harry's presumed death, were already standing in front of the hall preparing to make to their way individually to receive the Sorting Hat. McGonagall repeated her usual list of procedures and the Sorting Hat contributed yet another new cheery song about the four houses, which seemed almost macabre in the present atmosphere. The ceremony had been always been somewhat of an intimidating rite of passage for all students and Harry, Ron, and Hermione could still remember their own sorting vividly. But on this evening, it seemed to take on a new dimension of fear. Harry watched as each new student came forward to receive the Sorting Hat. Though one or two looked up at McGonagall, the majority turned their attention toward Snape. Sorely missed was the twinkling eye of Dumbledore in the headmaster's chair. Instead, Snape seemed to scrutinize each new student with a searching narrow-eyed look. It almost seemed to Harry that Snape could discern in which house the hat would place a student even before the sorting took place. He seemed to gaze almost benignly on certain students as they advanced to the stool and those students would inevitably be placed into Slytherin; other students he would regard with a loathing evil-eyed stare and those students would find themselves in other houses.

Finally, one diminutive girl with large brown eyes and jet black hair swept back into a ponytail walked slowly forward after McGonagall had called her name ("Wycliffe, Arabella"). Snape bore down on her with a particularly poisonous stare and all Arabella could do, it seemed, was to gaze nervously into his eyes like a small bird mesmerized by a cobra preparing to strike. Arabella was visibly shaking; her knees started knocking together and three steps away from the stool with the sorting hat she started to lose her balance and had to be helped up by two first-year boys.

There was a look of pity for Arabella on many of the faces at the teachers' table though Snape's own expression remained unchanged. Finally, Arabella made it to the stool and sat trembling as the Sorting Hat spent some while hemming and hawing before crying "Gryffindor!"

Suppressing some surprise that this nervous, mousey girl would end up in a house whose students were noted for bravery, the Gryffindor table broke into an especially enthusiastic round of applause. Some Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs even joined in, appreciating Arabella's difficulty in being sorted right under Snape's crooked nose stare.

Most of the newly-sorted first years were sitting in a group near the head of the table but there happened to be a vacant seat to Hermione's left. Ignoring a glare from Snape, she stood up and beckoned Arabella over. Arabella pointed to herself in surprise and then nervously walked over and sat down.

Hermione smiled encouragingly. "Hello, Arabella. Welcome to Gryffindor. I'm Hermione."

Arabella just nodded and bit her lip.

"This is Ron."

Ron nodded encouragingly and Arabella tried to smile at him.

"And this is Harry."

Harry smiled. "Hello."

But Arabella stared at him in shock and could not stop herself from pointing at his scar. "Not - not - Harry Potter," she managed to croak.

Hermione's smile faded slightly. Ron immediately broke into a coughing fit during which the words "lessons in tact" could be heard. Finally, Neville, who was sitting to Ron's left, broke the impasse by leaning over and saying:

"Don't worry, Arabella. I used to be frightened by Professor Snape, too, until..." Neville broke off and frowned as he struggled to remember what had changed.

Just then, the Gryffindors became aware that Snape had cleared his throat and was looking in their direction with a most severe expression on his face. The sorting had apparently ended and he was preparing to make some sort of start-of-term announcement.

"I have a few brief things to pass on," he remarked laconically. "There will be little tolerance for rule-breaking this year." Harry turned for a moment to look at the school caretaker, Argus Filch, who was standing by the doorway stroking his cat Mrs. Norris, a smile of immense satisfaction slowly breaking across his face.

Harry broke of his wandering glance at a nudge in the elbow from Hermione. He looked back to see Snape staring directly at him.

"In past years," Snape went on. "Certain students have seen fit to regard themselves as being above school rules." He let his words hang for a moment. Harry noticed that many of the other students in the hall were now looking curiously in his direction. He also saw Malfoy's face flush red with satisfaction.

"However," Snape continued. "I would like to assure everyone that this sort of behavior will not be tolerated this year by anyone." A slow sneer crept across Snape's face. "I plan to keep the Hogwarts Express well-oiled and in good working condition for those students whom I will find it necessary to send home."

Arabella started to shake again and Hermione put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Harry could sense Neville fidgeting near him, but he, Ron, and Hermione stared back at Snape in defiance. Whatever they were feeling inside, they had grown past the age where they would allow Snape to think that he had succeeded in intimidating them so easily.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Snape continued to glare at each other for a moment after Snape had finished his "announcements." Then Snape clapped his hands together unceremoniously and sat down. The feast appeared magically in front of the students and staff and the hall was soon filled with the sound of knives, forks, and, eventually, conversation.

As delicious as the food looked, Harry found he had even less appetite than when he had first come into the hall. Even Ron did not seem to tuck in with his usual enthusiasm. After the feast was over and the prefects had escorted the first-years to their houses, Ron, Harry, and Hermione made their way back to Gryffindor Tower, deep in conversation.

"How can it be him?" Harry demanded, as if Ron and Hermione were personally responsible for this grievous turn of events. "Shouldn't it be McGonagall? She's deputy headmistress after all!"

"I don't know, Harry," replied Hermione. "Maybe she didn't want the job. Or maybe Dumbledore has some other plan."

"No wonder he didn't want to tell me."

"Perhaps he wanted to make very sure we didn't try to find anything on our own," suggested Hermione. "He wanted to keep you safe, Harry."

"I don't know," replied Harry. "I don't think leaving me on the verge of expulsion will help keep me away from danger."

For the first time that he could remember, Harry found his trust in Dumbledore starting to fade.

The rest of the evening found Gryffindor Tower unusually subdued. Harry and Ron tried to lose themselves in a game of Wizard Chess and Hermione was busy with her S.P.E.W. meeting. All three went to bed early.

Harry and Ron lay in bed for some while, listening to their roommates gradually fall asleep around them.

"Harry," Ron finally said. "Are you OK?"

"No, Ron," Harry replied. "Not really."

"Just look at it this way." Ron tried to sound encouraging. "Tomorrow can't really be much worse than today was."

Harry appreciated Ron's efforts at cheering him up but right now he felt as though the whole world was collapsing around him. His family were all dead; his godfather was missing; if he set foot anywhere outside Hogwarts again, he would be annihilated by the most powerful dark wizard alive, and now Dumbledore was gone, leaving Harry's fate in the hands of someone who had only shown him loathing for the last five years.

Harry waited until he could hear Ron's snores and then cried silent tears into his pillow until he, too, finally fell asleep.

***

The next morning, Ron and Harry made their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast. They had expected to find Hermione in the common room or on the way down and when they arrived, they were surprised to see her already seated in her customary chair. Piled next to her on the table in haphazard fashion were several piles of parchment and a large stack of books.

"You're up early," said Ron as they sat down beside her.

Hermione looked up at them and Harry could see that her eyes were red and puffy.

"I - I didn't really get to sleep last night," she replied yawning.

"What?" Ron was shocked. "We've only just started the term."

"I - I had an idea," said Hermione defensively. "I got carried away and before I knew what was happening, the sunrise was coming in through the window."

Harry glanced at some of the titles of the books Hermione had spread out next to her: My Year in an Elf Village by Gilderoy Lockhart, House Elves: Servants or Slaves? by Mooshawk Mundblugger, and Capital by Karl Marx.

"Hermione," Harry said gently, although Hermione seemed to jump nervously at the sound. "D - don't you think you might be taking on a bit too much?"

"Well, we'll have a lot more homework soon, won't we? I have to take advantage of the time now."

"How about sleeping for a change?" asked Ron.

"I'm afraid I don't have a long time to chat," was Hermione's brusque reply. She took a spoonful of the Wizard puffs that had been practicing their backstrokes in a pool of milk in her bowl and shoved them into her mouth. She gathered her papers and books into an untidy pile and got up from her chair. "The library will have opened by now. I need to get some more books."

Harry looked at Ron to see what he thought and was surprised to see him looking at Hermione with a disgruntled expression. Harry, who was more inclined toward pity, tried to say something encouraging to Hermione but then he was interrupted by the arrival of morning mail.

"Go on, Hermione," said Ron. "You might as well stay for mail. Perhaps Henrietta Handsdowne has sent some gunpowder for you to use at the ball."

Hermione looked contemptuously at Ron but sat back down in her chair nonetheless. Harry was paying little attention to either of them, however. Amidst the eclectic assortment of owls circling through the Great Hall, he had spotted the pristine white shape of Hedwig gliding in gracefully against the brilliant morning blue of the enchanted ceiling. Harry's heart skipped a beat as he realized that Hedwig was not alone. Two tawny owls flew alongside her. All three of them were holding onto a long brown package. Hermione and Ron, who had been trying to outdo one another with caustic criticisms, suddenly stopped as they became aware of the three owls coming nearer and nearer. Finally, Hermione had to quickly clear her parchments away as the package was dropped in front of them. Harry quickly fed Hedwig some protesting Wizard puffs while Ron and Hermione tended to the two tawny owls.

Harry's heart beat rapidly. He had little doubt as to what the package contained. Hermione and Ron had completely forgotten about their argument and all three began to undo the wrapping with the sudden unrestrained glee of three first-years.

A sleek long mahogany handle gave way to finely combed bristles on what was clearly a broomstick of impeccable craftsmanship. Gold lettering inscribed on the handle the words:

FIREBOLT II

Harry, an expression of delight pasted to his face, ran his fingers lovingly over the handle. He could feel the broomstick vibrating to his touch. He continued to run his fingers down to the bristles and dislodged a small yellow envelope that had been magically attached to the end of the handle. Harry opened up the envelope, quickly scanned the contents, and shoved it in his pocket as Seamus, Catherine, Katie, and Ginny wandered up, along with several other Gryffindors.

"What have you got there, Harry?" asked Catherine.

"Slytherin won't stand a chance now." Katie beamed.

"Wicked!" exclaimed Seamus. "Who gave you that?"

But Harry did not answer Seamus' question. Instead, he looked across at Ron and Hermione, a warm smile dancing in his eyes and could see happiness and relief shining back at him from his friends. And he could see that they knew.

The broomstick was from Sirius.

Several Gryffindors lingered for a moment before being forced back to their seats by their own mail packages. Just then, Harry looked up and saw Professor McGonagall wandering over to talk to them. For a sickening moment, he was afraid she was going to confiscate the Firebolt the way she had his first model. But she merely smiled and Harry was surprised to see her eyes water over slightly. Harry immediately felt a lump form in his own throat.

"I see you've gotten the package safely, Potter," she whispered softly. "I trust you won't read the card at the table."

Harry shook his head.

"But you should be aware that all is well with those who had been... missing."

Harry nodded and McGonagall left rather quickly, slowly unfolding her spotted handkerchief on the way back to the staff table. Harry turned back to his two best friends, a boyish grin on his face. None of them seemed to know what to say.

Just then, there was a loud screech and a flurry of feathers as a grey owl flew right into Hermione's face, a red envelope clutched in its beak. Hermione gave a startled cry and ducked out of the way.

"Pig!" cried Ron. "Stop showing off! Give me the letter!"

But Pigwidgeon ignored Ron and kept fluttering around Hermione's face. He finally landed and handed Hermione a large red envelope.

"Not to her, you stupid bird," complained Ron. "Give me the letter."

But Hermione was already opening the envelope, a puzzled expression on her face.

"Hey!" cried Ron. "What are you opening my mail for?"

Hermione turned the front of the envelope around to show Ron "Hermione Granger" written on the front in neat handwritten black ink.

"But it's my bird!" protested Ron. "Why are you getting letters from my bird?"

Hermione just shrugged.

In response, Pigwidgeon flew wandered over expectantly to Ron.

"I'm not giving you anything, you stupid fur ball!" retorted Ron, waving an affronted Pigwidgeon away.

So intent were Ron, Harry, and Hermione on the opening of the letter that none of them noticed Pigwidgeon trot down to the other side of the table and begin receiving owl treats from Ginny.

Hermione opened the letter and read it to herself, her eyebrows arching several times in curiosity. She finished her read with a small gasp and quickly threw the letter down on the table as if it were a hot iron.

"Who's it from?" demanded Ron. "What does it say?"

Hermione smiled at him shrewdly. "Why don't you take a look then?" she suggested.

"Right, I will." Ron's fingers moved toward the envelope, only to recoil quickly as smoke began to appear from the edges. Within moments, the letter had smoldered itself into oblivion.

Ron fixed Hermione with an accusatory stare.

"You knew that was going to happen, didn't you?"

Hermione smiled. "Yes."

Before Ron could reply again, Hermione stood up. "Come on, we'll all be late for Defense Against the Dark Arts and Harry will want to put his broomstick away first."

Harry didn't mind getting away from what he sensed was yet another spat between his two best friends. Cradling his new broomstick like a baby, he made his way quickly back to Gryffindor Tower before returning to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. He found Ron and Hermione sitting in their usual seats and took a place next to them. They were still having some sort of argument in low tones. Harry tried to block it out but he kept catching bits and pieces inadvertently.

" - Could have at least told us."

" - Don't see why you need to know anyway."

" - Don't know why you're being so secretive all the time."

"I am not being secretive!"

The last of Hermione's protests had barely left her lips when a dramatic series of events unfolded in a manner of seconds.

There was a large bellowing sound of "Crucio!" Harry turned immediately to see the balding man who had been sitting at the staff table during the feast the night before standing behind the teacher's desk at the front of the room, his wand outstretched and a look of fury in his eyes. The green light from his wand shot out through the center aisle of the classroom only to stop several centimeters in front of Ron's head, which had only turned to late to see what was going on. The light then seemed to hang in the air just in front of Ron who had pressed the back of his chair up against the desk behind, his eyes hypnotized by the green glare of the malevolent spell.

The balding man who, by process of elimination must have been Professor Nevins, casually placed his wand in his pocket and walked over to Ron.

"Your name?" he asked.

"Weasley," squeaked Ron. "R - R - Ron Weasley."

The Slytherins, who were taking the class with them, began to snigger.

"Mr. Weasley," said Nevins in a gruff, authoritative tone. "I would like to thank you for taking part in my little demonstration this morning."

Ron just nodded, his eyes never leaving the wand light.

Professor Nevins turned to survey the remainder of the class. "Mr. Weasley here has just shown us the full consequences of not paying attention. In a class at school, not paying attention might result in the loss of a few house points but out there in the greater wizarding world," he gestured expansively, "not staying alert can cost you your life!" He ended by pounding his fist assertively on the desk in front of Lavender and Parvati, causing both girls to jump.

"It is fortunate for Mr. Weasley," he added somewhat more quietly, "that I set up a blocking field just a little in front of each row of desks before you all came in this morning so that I was able to protect him more effectively than he himself."

Nevins took out his wand again and waved it at the lingering spell.

"Finite Incantatem."

The wand light disappeared and Ron found himself letting out a breath he was not aware he had been holding. But Harry also noticed that his look of fear had faded, replaced for the remainder of the lesson by a narrow-eyed looked of defiance.

Professor Nevins spent most of the lesson explaining blocking fields. The atmosphere was extremely tense following his opening gambit with Ron. Whatever Professor Nevins had intended, he had certainly succeeded in getting everyone's attention. He made it clear that there would be no textbook, nor did he seem to teach from any lesson plans though Harry had the impression that the whole lesson had been planned with meticulous detail in Nevins' head.

But there was another aspect to Professor Nevins' character that Harry admired less, a trait that reminded him far too much of Professor Snape. He was not above using the students' own fear to force their attention and help them to learn the subject at hand. And while Harry was wary of Nevins for this tactic, Ron was downright hostile. Harry knew this was not only because he had been used as bait in Nevins' original demonstration but also Ron shared with his entire family an intense dislike of manipulation.

After spending some time discussing the properties of blocking fields to a captive audience, Nevins decided that it was time to test the field out. He selected a series of students whom he called volunteers: Parvati, Neville (who ruefully pointed out afterwards that he was always chosen for these things), Seamus, and Pansy Parkinson. The four students were lined up at the front of his classroom. Nevins took out his wand. "First, I would like to demonstrate what happens when a spell is cast with no blocking field."

The eyes of the four "volunteers" suddenly widened. Neville's jaw dropped.

Nevins drew back his wand and prepared to cast a spell but Ron had seen enough.

"Couldn't you just skip this part?"

Everyone gasped. Hermione tugged pleadingly at Ron's elbow but he shook her off angrily.

Nevins' jaw seem to tighten. He walked slowly over to Ron, still clutching his wand tightly.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked.

"I said 'Couldn't you just skip this part?' I think everyone knows what happens when a spell is cast without a blocking field. I think we also know you could cast some horrible hex on them if you wanted to, or at least that's what you want them to think."

Ron put his hands on his hips and stared up at Nevins, challenging him to respond in kind.

"Mr. Weasley," said Nevins, drawing himself level with Ron's nose. Harry noted that they were about the same height. "I should like to see you after class, if you don't mind."

"I don't mind at all," replied Ron, earning a small cry from Hermione.

"Good."

Nevins returned to the four students. He drew out his wand once again but before a spell could come from his lips, Neville had taken out his own wand. Trembling with fear, he cried out:

"Magnum Impedio."

A blue light came out of Neville's wand and hovered in the air in front of the four students.

Professor Nevins lowered his wand slightly, a small smile growing on the corner of his mouth.

"How interesting," he decided. "It seems Mr. Longbottom has succeeded in casting a blocking spell and I distinctly heard him say to his partner during my explanation that he never thought he could do it. Necessity is indeed a powerful teacher. Let's see how effective he is."

Neville swallowed again as Nevins raised his wand.

"Riddiculo Tikkilo."

The class laughed as they recognized Nevins' spell, breaking the tension considerably. But the four volunteer students remained stoic as Nevins' spell bounced harmlessly off Neville's blocking field.

"Excellent." Nevins smiled more broadly, which Harry thought made him look an oversized ferret with a piece of food stuck in its tooth. "I believe Mr. Longbottom deserves a round of applause."

Neville stood in shock as the class broke into enthusiastic applause and then went white as a sheet as Parvati put her arms around him.

But Harry noticed that Ron did not join in the applause. Instead, he kept his hands to his sides and continued to stare angrily at Nevins.

Nevins finished the class with another lecture about sustaining one's blocking fields and then assigned a parchment explaining the properties he had just discussed in his lecture, complete with diagrams. Finally, it was time for the class to end and Hermione and Harry prepared to make their way toward the greenhouse for Herbology.

"Good luck, mate." Harry drew a deep breath and patted Ron on the shoulder.

Hermione looked torn between disapproval and concern and finally told Ron that they would save him a seat and wished him luck.

And then Ron was alone with Nevins.

Nevins sat behind the desk and stared into space for a moment, waiting for all of the students to leave. Ron was determined not to let the professor intimidate him by any delay tactics. He walked purposefully up to his desk.

"You wanted to speak to me?" Ron made sure to look Nevins directly in the eye.

"Mr. Weasley," Nevins said again, slowly, with a slight sigh.

"I suppose you want me to do some sort of horrible detention."

Nevins didn't respond. Instead he asked:

"In what house do you belong, Mr. Weasley?"

"Gryffindor," replied Ron, without hesitation. "Going to shave a few points off then?"

"Nothing of the sort." Nevins waved his wand dismissively. "I myself was in Ravenclaw," he said, suddenly adopting a conversational tone. "I was quite clever with spells but I was not quite as brave as you are."

Ron did not respond.

Nevins sighed again. "Mr. Weasley, let me come straight to the point. I spent many years as an auror and I'm sure it will not surprise you to know that most dark wizards - and witches - are in command of a formidable array of curses unthinkable to any decent wizard and that it falls upon me to prepare you and your classmates to resist them."

Ron took a half step closer to Nevins. "And you think we should have to learn them whatever the cost, don't you?"

"Hardly." It was Nevins' turn to look Ron in the eye. "I happen to think and know that in the darkest days of Lord Voldemort's terror," (Nevins deliberately stressed the Dark Lord's name causing Ron to flinch despite himself); "the most terrible curses he and his followers used were nothing compared to the power of fear and intimidation they wielded. The Dark Mark was little more than a simple conjuring spell but it once held every witch and wizard in England paralyzed to Voldemort's will. I wanted to talk to you, Mr. Weasley, because I want you to realize that you have a gift, a very rare one, even in your own house. You showed me in class today that you are not so easily intimidated."

Ron had resolved to resist any attempt at manipulation but he could not help but feel non-plussed at Nevins' unexpected praise.

"In the course of your life, perhaps even in the not too distant future, you may encounter dark wizards who have gained enormous power through their ability to inspire both loyalty and fear. Few possess the means to resist this power. But perhaps you do. You must cherish and cultivate this gift, Mr. Weasley, and you should not allow anyone to tell you it is anything other. For a time may come when both you and those who are close to you will need to rely on it."

Ron suddenly found himself nodding.

"You should go now," said Nevins, in a matter-of-fact tone. "You will be late for your next class."

Ron nodded again in a curt manner and turned to leave.

"And Mr. Weasley," said Nevins as Ron had just reached the door. "I will speak to Professor McGonagall about awarding twenty points to Gryffindor."

Ron left before Nevins could see his face turn red.

***

After class had finished, Harry and Hermione started to make their way to Herbology but then had second thoughts. As Harry pointed out, given the circumstances of Ron's unenviable position, he could hardly forgive himself for abandoning him and he felt that the least they could do was wait outside the classroom, even if it meant they were all late for Herbology. Hermione reluctantly agreed although she insisted that Ron should not have spoken the way he did to Professor Nevins no matter what he had thought of his teaching.

They stood outside in the corridor outside of the classroom watching the other students file past and hoping no teacher would wonder why they were simply standing there. Finally, the corridor was deserted and Ron had not yet emerged. Harry suddenly reached into his pocket at took out Sirius' yellow envelope. Hermione looked over his shoulder as he read the contents.

Dear Harry,

I hope you this broomstick will replace the one that was taken from you. I am in a safe place now, thanks to Dumbledore's help, and Buckbeak and I are recovering. We are working hard to keep you safe this year, Harry, but you must trust us. Work hard in your lessons, stay close to your friends, and good luck with the Quidditch Cup. If you find yourself in any danger, send an owl with Hedwig. She'll know where to find me. Good luck, Harry.

Sirius

Harry breathed deeply and placed the envelope quickly back into his pocket.

Hermione touched him on the shoulder again. "He'll be fine, Harry," she said softly. "He can take of himself. He's done it before."

Harry nodded. "I know. I just wish - I just wish I was out there with them," Harry decided, "and not just in here waiting for something to happen."

"But that's just it, Harry," protested Hermione. "Sirius doesn't want you to just wait. He wants you to live your life."

Harry looked down for a moment and when he looked up, he nodded. He tried to look brave for his friend but he felt his stomach still tied up in knots.

Just then, the door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom opened and Ron marched out, his face flushed red and his head down, lost in thought. He barely noticed Harry and Hermione as he made his way directly toward the greenhouse for Herbology.

Harry and Hermione exchanged nervous glances as they followed Ron out.

"Don't worry, Ron," Hermione pleaded. "He was just trying to wind you up. Just don't let him get to you."

"He's just some stuck up old git," Harry added. "Lucky you won't have him for extra lessons like I will."

"Actually," Ron surprised both of them by breaking into a grin. "I think he's brilliant."

***

Harry was anxious to give his new Firebolt a try but his schedule was not cooperating. After Herbology, they only had a short lunch before Transfiguration and then Ron had Divination and Hermione Arithmancy. Harry promised he would wait for his two friends before giving his Firebolt a try but it was difficult looking out of the window on a beautifully clear day at the pristine green of the Quidditch pitch waiting for them to be ready. Finally, Harry decided to take out the Broomstick Servicing Kit that Hermione had given him for his birthday three years ago and polish his stick in preparation. The handle was so smooth, however, that it hardly seemed that there was anything that could be done to improve it.

Finally, when Harry was convinced that he could wait no longer, the clock in the Gryffindor common room completed its slow march toward the beginning of a new hour and it was finally time for Ron and Hermione to get out of class. The trio met at the front entrance to the school as they had arranged and half-walked, half-skipped to the Quidditch pitch. Ron had brought the Omnioculars Harry had given him his fourth year so that could automatically review the dives and turns Harry was making in the sky. Harry wasn't sure whether it was his imagination but it seemed that his broomstick vibrated harder and harder in his grip as if it could sense the pitch coming near.

When they finally reached the pitch, Harry could not remember even mounting the broom before he felt it resting underneath him as he flew through the sky. He had thought that nothing could ever compare to his old Firebolt but this version was even sleeker and cleaner than its predecessor. Where his first Firebolt had seemed to move to his every thought, this model seemed to anticipate every curve and dive before he himself knew he wanted to make them. Up in the air on his broomstick, Harry seemed to feel his burdens flying away like the ground beneath his feet.

Finally, after he had circled the pitch a number of times and was aware that Ron and Hermione were waiting patiently below, Harry broke into a deep dive that forced his two friends to move backwards and then glided gracefully to a halt on the grass.

"Go on," he said to Ron, beaming. "You have a go."

"Me?" Ron pointed to himself in disbelief.

"Yeah. You didn't come down here just to look, did you?"

Ron took the Firebolt gingerly in his hand and gave a sharp cry as the broomstick seemed to ease its way underneath him and lift him into the sky of its own will. Ron looped several times around the Quidditch pitch, accelerating the Firebolt to tremendous speeds, before finally swooping back down to the grass where Hermione and Harry were waiting.

Ron handed the broomstick back to Harry. "It's wicked fast, Harry. No one will have a chance to catch you in that."

"Go on, Hermione," said Harry, handing the broomstick to her. "Have a go, then."

"No, Harry, I - I can't," protested Hermione. "I love to watch you play but I'm no good at Quidditch, you know that."

"Anyone can fly on that broomstick, Hermione," declared Ron.

"No, really," Hermione protested again. "You go on, Harry."

Harry shrugged. He wasn't going to be told twice. He lifted off into the air again, arching his broomstick through the sky like a knife. He cut several more curves around the Quidditch pitch. This time, he flew high above the stands and practiced making sharp dives as if he could see the snitch below him. Suddenly, he felt a slight tug on his broomstick. Concerned, he leveled out his broomstick and flew straight and slower. For a moment, he thought he must have pulled out of the dive too fast and let his imagination get carried away with him but then he felt it again. He was about to land and examine his Firebolt from the ground when he suddenly became aware of the obvious source of the aberration. Standing like small insects on the ground of the Quidditch pitch on the opposite side from Hermione and Ron, were three green-cloaked figures. Harry didn't need to move any closer to figure out who they were.

But closer he moved. Crabbe and Goyle scattered just as Ron and Hermione had as Harry raced his Firebolt to their position but Malfoy stood his ground. Harry could see he had his wand out and wore a supercilious smirk on his face which Harry desperately wanted to wipe clean.

"I see you have a new broomstick, Potter," Malfoy remarked smoothly, turning so Harry could see the Prefect badge on his right breast more clearly.

Harry glared at Malfoy. "Funny, my old one seems to have gone missing."

"Come now, Potter," chided Malfoy. "There's no need for the sour face. You can't fly around like that in a real Quidditch match." He held up his wand. "I'm only trying to help."

Crabbe suddenly began giggling. Harry turned around to look at him, undecided as to whether such stupidity merited any kind of response.

At that moment, he suddenly felt Malfoy snatch the broomstick out of his hand.

"Give it back, Malfoy!" Harry felt his patience slipping away rapidly.

Malfoy did not respond immediately. He studied the broomstick in his hand, running his fingers slowly up and down the handle. "Excellent workmanship, Potter. You needn't worry though," he said handing the broomstick back to Harry who snatched it from his hands. "I've actually got one just like it." He suddenly produced his own Firebolt II which he had been holding in his other arm.

"I expected you needed a replacement in a hurry," Harry retorted through clenched teeth.

"Well, don't let me stand in your way." Malfoy folded his arms.

Harry kept his distance and lifted back up into the sky.

This time, Crabbe and Goyle managed to resist giggling until after Harry was safely out of earshot. But Malfoy neither laughed nor smiled. His face hardened with a look of determination as he looked briefly at the broomstick in his hand and took out his wand once again.

***

Looking through his Omnioculars from the other end of the field, Ron saw something quite different develop. He saw Malfoy talking to Harry and then it looked like Crabbe had said something that had caused him to turn in his direction. Then, as Harry's attention was distracted, Malfoy had moved with the accomplished skill of a quick-change artist. He had switched Harry's broomstick with his own identical model. Ron watched in horror as Harry jumped back into the air and Malfoy took out his wand again.

"Oh, no!" he cried.

"What is it?" said Hermione.

"Malfoy. He's switched the brooms."

"No!" cried Hermione. She and Ron started running across the pitch. She tried to cry out to Harry but they were too far away.

Ron took out his wand and placed it to his mouth. "Sonorus. Harry!" he cried again, his voice resounding throughout the stadium.

But Harry was already up high in the air and far away from Ron's amplified voice. Ron and Hermione ran harder across the pitch. They both knew their best chance was to reach Malfoy in time.

***

Harry had already flown well above the Quidditch stands again preparing to make his mock dives for the snitch when he became aware of a loud cry and swung his Firebolt around to see his two friends running toward Malfoy, looking up in the sky and waving their hands frantically.

A sick panic started to spread over Harry. He could tell that something was wrong and he was sure it had to do with Malfoy. He started to make his way back down to the ground.

And then it was as if the sky had collapsed down onto the earth.

Harry's broomstick began to tumble end to end through the sky. He struggled to hold on as his head spun with dizziness and his stomach churned with nausea. The horrible panic of those desperate minutes flying through the Forbidden Forest suddenly flew back to Harry like a relentless beast. Harry could taste bile in his throat as the tumbling abruptly ceased and he found himself careering sharply down toward the hard wooden seats at the top row of stands. He accelerated harder and harder, throwing up his hands to his face in a futile attempt to brace himself against what would surely be a shattering impact. Then just as he was sure Malfoy was planning to throw him hard into the seats, Harry felt the broomstick twist sharply back toward the open field. Harry tried hard to keep his balance from the sudden shift but he felt his legs slide slowly away from the broomstick and struggled to hold on with his hands.

The broomstick started to loop and dive once again. In between gritting his teeth and trying to keep his balance, Harry wondered how far Malfoy would take his amusement. Clearly he had control of the broomstick. He must have done something to it when he took it away or perhaps he had switched it with his own and Ron and Hermione had spotted him. He remembered the familiar rider who had chased him through the forest, the one Harry was now sure must have been Malfoy. Given the chance to strike, Malfoy had only tried to stun and not kill him. But was that because Malfoy couldn't stomach himself to take Harry's life or because he hadn't possessed the magical ability? He had participated in a chase that was clearly intended to finish Harry. Could he get away with killing him now? Would he claim it was an accident? Were the Death Eaters prepared to whisk him away from the consequences of his actions? Whatever the case, Harry knew that Malfoy now held his life on the tip of a wand.

Harry had little time for reflection as his felt his wand spinning around in the sky over the ground. Finally, the broomstick righted itself and changed course again to cannon toward the earth. Harry thought briefly of diving off the broomstick onto the ground but he was moving too fast to make any kind of escape. Just as he could taste the earth beneath his broom, Harry felt himself thrown back high into the sky and the whole process began all over again. Malfoy was toying with him like a rubber ball on the end of a stick.

***

Hermione ran hard across the grass, ignoring a throbbing pain from the stitch that was growing steadily in her side. They were close enough now that the Slytherins could see them coming but Malfoy continued to twirl his wand idly in the sky, a faint smirk moving back and forth on his lips.

Ron's long legs carried him much faster than Hermione and he was first to reach the three Slytherins.

"Hello, Weasley," said Malfoy coyly. "Seems Potter is having a bit of trouble with - "

Exactly what Harry's trouble was no one ever found out. Ron ran hard toward Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle tried to stand in his way but Ron slipped sideways and dodged them like practice pylons and then shoved Malfoy, wand and all, roughly into the ground. Ron tried to punch Malfoy in the side of the head but Malfoy dodged the blow and grabbed Ron around the shoulders. The two of them then began rolling around on the ground.

Hermione reached the others just as Crabbe and Goyle were preparing to move in and give Malfoy the advantage. Hermione stepped lithely in front of them and blocked their path.

"I wouldn't come any closer," she warned between pants.

Seeing that he and Crabbe were more than a head taller than and nearly twice as big as Hermione, Goyle let out a snigger. But his smile faded when Hermione took out her wand.

"Now," she said menacingly. "I can either cast a particularly nasty spell on the pair of you or simply stick this wand up one of your cavernous bodily orifices."

Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other in alarm. Neither had really understood whatever it was Hermione had just said but they both realized that when it came to a battle of wands with Hermione Granger, they were going to be hopeless.

Ron and Malfoy continued to roll around on the ground, each trying to free an arm to strike. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione could see Harry sketching large loops in the sky that mirrored Malfoy's tumbling in the grass.

"Ron, be careful!" she cried, not taking her eyes off Crabbe and Goyle. "Get his wand!"

Finally, Malfoy and Ron roll up against Hermione's feet. Leaning down quickly, her other wand still trained on Crabbe and Goyle, she slipped Malfoy's wand out from under his restrained hand and pointed it at Harry. She guided his broomstick like a kite, slowing his pace and gradually guiding him to the ground.

Harry exhaled deeply as he felt his feet touch the ground. He immediately hurtled away the broomstick like a poisonous snake. Clutching his stomach, he edged his way slowly toward Ron and Malfoy.

Ron was gaining the edge in the battle, more through sheer spite and determination than brute strength, and had now pinned Malfoy's arms behind him.

"Go on, Harry," he said. "Give him your best shot."

But Harry noticed that, despite the predicament he was in, a self-satisfied smirk had still not erased itself from Malfoy's lips. In fact, it seemed to be growing wider.

Harry suddenly heard Hermione gasp. "Harry," she said weakly, turning around and tugging on the sleeve of his robe.

"Well, well, well," said a low, cool voice behind them. "What have we here?"

Harry suddenly felt as if his backbone had been replaced by a rod of solid ice. Ron immediately released his grip on Malfoy and the two of them stood up. Harry noticed that there was a nasty bruise on the side of Ron's face and blood dripped from Malfoy's jaw. He turned around slowly to see the crooked nose of Acting Headmaster Severus Snape staring down at him, his presence, as always, completely undetectable until he was right on top of them.

But Ron was determined to go down swinging. "Malfoy could have killed Harry!" he spat angrily. "If I hadn't have stopped him - "

Malfoy cut Ron off coolly. "I apologize for the disturbance, headmaster, but we're all aware of Potter's great skill on the Quidditch field," he drawled. "Surely he would not have come to any harm, that is, until I was attacked and lost control of my wand."

Harry didn't doubt that very few people would have believed Malfoy's story and he could see that Crabbe was struggling hard to suppress another fit of giggles, but he also did not doubt that Snape would have accepted nearly any explanation. Snape's icy remark about the well-oiled Hogwarts Express came back to Harry like a horrible case of indigestion. He briefly wondered where Ron would go if he was expelled from Hogwarts, what his parents would say, what shame it might bring on his family, and what life at school would be like without his best friend.

But he wondered these things only for a moment for very quickly, something happened that none of them had expected.

Snape reached over, grabbed Malfoy roughly by the folds of his robes, and fixed him with an expression of deep hatred that Harry was sure no Gryffindor had ever witnessed.

Malfoy's smirk disappeared very quickly.

"You." He dragged Malfoy off the ground, earning a frightened gasp. "You attacked another Hogwarts student in a life-threatening manner. You are clearly unfit for this!" Snape snatched Malfoy's Prefect pin away deliberately tearing the front of his robes in the process. "I will be writing to your father about this, you will serve a detention, and one hundred points will be taken from Slytherin for your gross misconduct! And," Snape's mouth curled up in a sneer. "I will personally make sure that everyone in the house knows who was responsible for the loss."

Snape turned a frightened Malfoy around and marched him in the direction of the castle.

"Potter. Weasley." Snape eyes moved shiftily back and forth to the two Gryffindors, who still looked like they expected the worse. "Hospital wing."

Ron and Harry just nodded and followed Snape, Malfoy, and a nervous looking Crabbe and Goyle back to the school.

"What - no loss of points for Gryffindor, at all?" Ron could hardly believe what he was seeing.

"Sssh!" Hermione put her finger to her lips.

Though his body felt awful, Harry felt a smile spread across his lips. He bent down to pick up his real Firebolt and joined Ron and Hermione on the journey back to the castle. On measure of things, Ron had been right. Today had been a much better day than yesterday.