Harry Potter and the Silent Siege

Chapter 7

Secrets Shared and Secrets Kept

Harry, Hermione, and Ron sat together at breakfast the following morning, still in shock over the events of the previous afternoon. Harry and Ron had both escaped from the hospital wing fairly quickly: Harry had mostly just needed something to calm his stomach which had still felt like it was spinning around in the sky.

"He must have been really mad at Malfoy," reasoned Hermione. "After all, he did do something really horrible to you, Harry."

"I don't know," said Harry. "He's let some pretty bad things go in the past."

"Maybe he's had a tiff with old Lucius," suggested Ron.

"Maybe," said Harry vacantly. "Still, it seems a bit too good to be true. No points from Gryffindor?"

Harry sipped his milk, then heard a fluttering sound and saw Hedwig land on the table next to him holding a narrow white envelope in her beak. At first, he thought it might be another note from Sirius but then he noticed the official Hogwarts seal on the back. Harry took the envelope away and started to open it, handing some nearby owl treats to Hedwig.

Harry had barely retrieved the letter when it floated up in the air and transfigured itself into the likeness of Professor Snape.

"I think perhaps it is too good to be true," muttered Harry.

Hermione gasped and Ron dropped orange juice all over his lap. "Bloody hell, it's a bit early in the morning," he declared.

Snape's ghostly face hovered for a moment and then turned itself to Harry and said in a low tone.

"Mr. Potter, your presence is required in my office this morning at 10 o'clock."

Snape's face evaporated with an unceremonious poof leaving only the envelope.

"That's torn it," declared Ron. "Well." He shrugged. "It was nice while it lasted."

Hermione suddenly looked at her watch. "Oh, it's nearly 8:30. I've got to go."

Ron turned around to look at her. "More library work?"

Hermione seemed to hesitate for a moment. "No, actually, er - I'm meeting someone." She suddenly looked uncomfortable.

Ron looked more suspicious. "Another S.P.E.W. arrangement, I take it?"

"Yes, that's right," Hermione replied in a business-like tone and quickly turned around to leave the Great Hall.

"I wish I knew what she was planning for this ball," Ron muttered after she left.

"I don't know why you care so much."

Harry was on edge after receiving the letter from Snape and the words had come out of his mouth before he could stop them.

Ron looked back up at him in surprise.

"Well," added Harry, a little more hesitantly. "It just seems that you - you - you're always asking, or looking out for where she's going, that's all."

"I'm just concerned about her. She's overdoing it again, you know."

"I know." Harry suddenly felt very stupid. He looked at his best friend and saw that there were heavy bags under his eyes. Ron obviously hadn't slept very much again that night. He wanted to ask why but he felt he had better not say anything more after his last ill-considered remark. It wasn't like Ron to keep things inside. Harry just hoped Ron would tell him if there was anything important.

***

Hermione pushed open the door to the vacant Potions classroom.

"Ginny?" she said tentatively.

"In here," said a quiet voice. Ginny was standing against the wall that bordered the corridor, just behind where Hermione had opened the door, a strangely furtive expression on her face.

"'This letter will self-destruct in five seconds?'"

Ginny shrugged.

Hermione didn't answer. Instead, she sat down on a chair in the second row and invited Ginny to do the same. Ginny stared at the chair for a moment as if it was going to attack her and then slowly sat down.

Hermione tried to look as relaxed as possible. She could see that Ginny's face was flushed red and that she kept looking down at her fingers which were slowly tearing a small piece of parchment into pieces. Ginny was obviously very, very tense about what Hermione could not be sure.

For a few moments, neither of them said anything. Hermione was secretly anxious that it getting near time for the library to open but she resolved herself to remain calm and patient for Ginny's sake.

"It's about Harry," Ginny finally said, very quietly. "I - I have - " Ginny stopped and looked down at the floor. "I have feelings for him."

She looked at up at Hermione quickly.

"You don't seem so surprised," she suddenly said.

"Well, I - I guess I knew you liked Harry. I mean the way you dropped your plate at lunch when Ron - well, it was a bit obvious."

Ginny continued to stare at Hermione from behind a pair of large brown eyes. "I'm in love with him," she finally said.

Hermione didn't respond to this right away, although she found herself draw a quick breath.

"You're surprised now."

Hermione felt a little unnerved. If it wasn't what she was saying, or the way she was saying it, it was the storm that seemed to rage underneath Ginny's eyes, always there but never quite reaching the surface. And the way that she seemed to read Hermione's body language like it was words coming out of her mouth.

Finally, Hermione said:

"Ginny, why are you telling me this?"

Ginny took a deep breath. She wasn't sure herself that she knew the answer to Hermione's question. It had been Myrtle's idea, of course, and Ginny at first had had no intention of acting on the suggestion. She liked and trusted Hermione, although they were not close friends. But Hermione was so close to Harry. Ginny was terrified of telling Hermione but it was a kind of terror she found herself unable to resist once the suggestion had been introduced to her. She felt as though she was moving ever closer to the edge of a cliff caught between the fear of falling and the gloom of resting safely on the side.

"Does anyone else know?" asked Hermione after Ginny did not respond.

"Yes, but they don't believe me."

"They don't believe you?" Hermione found this difficult to accept.

"They don't respect my feelings."

Ginny suddenly gave Hermione a desperate, searching look. The older girl realized that it was terribly important to Ginny that she respected her feelings and, at the same time, she was afraid that she would not.

There was a long moment of silence in which both girls seemed to hope the other would speak first.

"Ginny," Hermione finally said. "If you feel this strongly about Harry, then you have to tell him."

Ginny's eyes widened like saucers. She suddenly looked like an animal that had just realized it had been cornered on all sides. "I - I - I can't, Hermione. I just can't."

"Ginny." Hermione became more assertive. "Why? What are you afraid of?"

"Everything! Hermione, I - just everything." Ginny suddenly looked down again and started bunching up the folds of her robes into tight balls before letting them go and repeating the process all over again.

Hermione decided to try a different tack. "Why not invite him to the Guy Fawkes ball?"

"Boys don't expect to be asked by a girl."

Hermione frowned. "There's no reason why a girl can't ask a boy," she retorted, a little haughtily, "when it's to our advantage, of course," she added.

"I thought he was going to ask Cho Chang."

"I don't think he's asked her yet." Hermione was about to add that Cho Chang was hardly the first thing on Harry's mind at the moment but then she realized that Ginny knew little of what had vexed Harry for the past few days. "You have to ask him," she finally added, "before he asks her."

"And what if he says no?"

"Then you're no worse off than you are now."

"Hermione, you're Harry's friend," Ginny said softly. "Is that what he would want?"

There was that searching look again, thought Hermione. Ginny wanted desperately to get inside the tightly guarded fortress of Harry Potter's world and for that she only had Hermione's sympathy, but Hermione's first loyalty was to Harry, and she would make sure that any entry Ginny made to that fortress was through the front door.

"Look, Ginny." Hermione knew this wasn't going to be easy to say. "Whatever Harry shares with Ron and I stays between the three of us. It's always been that way and it always will. But I can honestly tell you that I don't know. I'm not sure that he knows himself. But that's why you have to tell him. You have to give him the choice. I think he knows you like him but I don't think he knows how deep your feelings run. There's another thing you have to understand, too," and here Hermione looked directly at Ginny and she could see that she had the full attention of the younger girl, "I'm not going to play matchmaker. It's possible that Harry - that he isn't really interested and if he isn't, I'm not going to persuade him to think otherwise. I respect him too much to do that."

Ginny nodded and Hermione could see that she understood.

"I'll tell you one thing though," said Hermione. "I'd much rather Harry go to the ball with you than with Cho." She suddenly sounded very indignant. "I can't believe he doesn't notice that half the boys in the school are dangling around her everywhere she goes. Miss 'I'm so popular just because I spend two hours on my hair every morning,' Miss 'I'm so sad my boyfriend died that I need every boy in this school to put me out of my misery,' Miss 'I don't ever have to worry about losing at Quidditch because no one would dare harm my beautiful face.' I wish they would make me a beater on the Gryffindor team; I'd know exactly where to put that bludger!"

Hermione suddenly realized that her face was flushed in anger and wondered if she hadn't taken things a little too far. She looked up and realized that Ginny had suddenly grown strangely calm.

"Hermione," said Ginny quietly, looking at her very much the same way that Hermione had looked at Ginny a few moments before. "Are you interested in Harry? I'm sorry. I need to know." Ginny had wanted to add that if Hermione was interested, then she would understand, but somehow she couldn't bring herself to say it. She just looked at the older girl and prayed to all the gods in the heavens that Hermione wouldn't have to become her rival.

Hermione sighed deeply. "OK, Ginny," she said. "You've told me your feelings so I'll tell you mine." Hermione wasn't the type of person who kept a lot of things to herself but she suddenly found it very difficult to know where to begin. "I - I didn't really have a lot of friends before I came to Hogwarts. I just somehow didn't really fit in. I knew a little too much. My hair was too big. My teeth were too big. My clothes didn't fit right. The kids at the Muggle school acted like I was contagious with something awful. My teachers thought I was some kind of freak. They said kind things to my parents but it was obvious what they really thought. Then, I got the letter to come to Hogwarts and it all fit. I knew why I was different and I thought I'd be going to school with students who were just the same way that I was, but then I got here and met the other girls in my room and all they cared were clothes, stickers, and fortune telling. I think those first days at Hogwarts were probably the worst of my life."

Ginny just stared at Hermione, too engrossed to respond.

"But then I got to know Ron and Harry," said Hermione. "We didn't really hit it off that well at first but then we became friends, good friends. Harry and Ron were the first real friends I ever had. And even though we had fights - well, mostly me and Ron, I suppose - I never really questioned that we'd always be friends but then there was that awful Skeeter woman our fourth year. She just wanted to ruin as many lives as she could. And that included Harry's - and mine. She had everyone in the wizarding world thinking that I was his girlfriend. And I knew that Harry didn't believe her and I knew that he hated her but I also so scared that the rumor and gossip would just get too much for him. It would have been so easy for him to get uncomfortable around me, to start to see me differently, and to stop spending so much time with me, and then Ron would just go away with him and I would be alone."

Hermione tried to go on but she got stuck on her words. Ginny suddenly felt her throat go very dry as tears started to cascade down Hermione's cheeks. She still wasn't quite sure where Hermione was going with her story.

"But he didn't," said Hermione, and this seemed to make her cry even harder. She blew her nose on a crumbled piece of tissue. "He wouldn't no matter what anyone said. And I wouldn't either. Our friendship was just too important to each other. But that's just what it was, a friendship."

Ginny suddenly let out a long breath she had not been aware she was holding.

Hermione went on. "We examined that friendship then and there. We didn't choose to but we did. I think if there had been anything between us, it would have come out then. Please understand, Ginny." Hermione suddenly looked up at Ginny as if just remembering that she was still there. "I care very much for Harry. I care for Ron, too, of course," she added, suddenly twisting the folds of her robes just as Ginny had just a few minutes before, "but it's - it's different somehow."

"Perhaps because Ron can be a stubborn, stupid prat," suggested Ginny.

"Well," said Hermione, her tears suddenly dry. "I wasn't going to say it myself."

"Don't worry," said Ginny. "He's my brother. I understand. Go on."

"I don't want Harry to go to the ball with Cho because she's so obviously wrong for him." Hermione felt herself growing exasperated again. "I don't know what there was between her and Cedric but I doubt if she's felt anywhere near as bad about it as Harry. He just won't let it go. He feels sorry for her but she doesn't even know he exists. I wish he'd find someone who really cared about him, who could bring him out. I don't know if that's you, Ginny, but I'd rather you have a go than her. Will you ask him to the ball?"

"I - I - I'll try," Ginny managed, suddenly aware that Hermione was controlling the direction of a conversation that she had first initiated.

"I guess that will do for a start." Hermione forced herself to smile. She looked at Ginny for a moment then walked over and pulled in into an awkward embrace.

"Was there anything else you wanted to tell me?" asked Hermione.

Ginny shook her head. "I know you're busy."

"It's OK. I'm glad you told me." Hermione finally looked at her watch. It was well past time for the library to open and now almost time for class.

The two girls got up and walked toward the door.

"Hermione." Ginny suddenly turned around to face the other girl just as her hand touched the handle of the door. "You won't tell him, will you?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, of course not. But I hope you will, Ginny."

Ginny didn't respond. She just opened the door, but after they were outside and preparing to go their separate ways, she frowned and turned back to Hermione and said:

"Who gave him that broomstick, anyway?"

As far as Ginny was concerned, it was just a casual question compared to the gut spilling conversation the two girls had just shared, but Hermione immediately went rigid with alarm.

"I - I - I'm sorry, Ginny, I - "

"I know," said Ginny, her expression suddenly unreadable again. "You can't tell me."

Hermione turned around to look at Ginny. She realized how this must seem to the her. "I'm really sorry, Ginny," and Ginny believed that she was. "I - it's just things have happened to - to us - to the three of us. I didn't choose it to be this way, but it's not my place. It's not my choice."

"I know," said Ginny again. "It's OK. Thank you for talking to me, Hermione," she finished, a little stiffly and then turned to walk toward her first class.

Hermione stared after her anxiously for a moment, then looked at her watch and started to trot to History of Magic, pausing only to quickly enchant her face so that no one could see she had been crying.

Ginny knew she was going to be late for her class as well but she continued to walk forward slowly. She had many things on her mind. She appreciated how Hermione had been willing to share so much of herself. Yet Ginny still felt that while she had moved much closer to Hermione, she still saw Harry through a wall of glass which, pound as she might, she could not get through.

***

Ron frowned at Hermione's vacant chair. Binns emerged through the blackboard and began beaming about the finalization of some arrangement for the Ghostly Ghoul Orchestra's appearance and then slipped back into a deadly dull monotone that he was apparently going to continue for the remainder of the period. Ron tried to force himself to concentrate: his mother had not exactly been pleased with his failure in the History of Magic O.W.L. but he found it impossible to concentrate on Binns no matter how hard he tried. His mother hadn't been particularly sympathetic to this excuse - of course, Percy and Bill and Charlie had never had any trouble - but Ron wished for once that she could come into the class herself and try to remember anything Binns had said.

A few minutes into the class, the back door of the classroom burst open and Hermione rushed in, her bushy hair flying like a tangled spider's web all over her face. There was a time when Hermione had never arrived late to class but now it seemed to happen about half the time. Harry moved over so she could sit down next to him but Ron, who was sitting in the chair closest to the aisle resolved not to budge at all. Hermione had to push past the back of his chair to get to the vacant seat in the middle.

Ron looked sideways at Hermione who was busily preparing her quill and parchment and pretending to hang on Binns' every word. Ron tried to remember a name and date that Binns had just passed on in relation to yet another goblin uprising but found the information seemed to evaporate halfway from his ear to his brain. Harry was right, he thought. He shouldn't worry himself so much about Hermione's extracurricular activities. What did he care what happened at the ball, anyway? Try as he might, Ron couldn't think of anyone he liked enough to warrant the humiliation of having to ask.

The truth was that Ron didn't care about what happened at the ball at all, but he did care about why Hermione was so being so secretive all of the time. Or maybe she wasn't being secretive at all; Harry didn't seem to think she was. Maybe it was all in Ron's head. Ron knew in some rational corner of his mind that he wasn't being quite fair to Hermione. But reluctant as he was to admit it to himself, the truth was that he felt somehow cheated. On the night when they had thought Harry had died, Hermione had been open, sensitive, and vulnerable and all she had wanted was for him to hold her in his arms. There was a time when he could not stand being hugged by Hermione, but now he was beginning to miss it. But as soon as Harry had returned, Hermione had been bossy, over-critical, and constantly busy. The Hermione that had opened herself up that first night at Hogwarts was locked somewhere far away and Ron didn't know how to find her. He found himself holding on to those few moments when Hermione was actually together with them like precious treasures, even if they had spent much of those moments fighting. And when he had expected her to turn up for class at the very least and she had still not arrived, he had found himself bitterly resentful.

While it might have seemed strange to anyone else, it was not in Ron's character to easily understand these feelings or where they were leading. Moreover, he was decidedly afraid to find out. But he was also coming to the steady realization that he wasn't going to able to keep things to himself forever. Harry had already started to notice. More to the point, Ron still did not know what it was Hermione had wanted to tell him that first night. Ron had been convinced it was something important but now he was equally sure that whatever it had been, Hermione was not going to tell him of her own accord. He was either going to suffer not knowing the whole year like feeling the constant throbbing pain of a horrible nagging boil or he was going to have to ask her.

Ron was not happy with either alternative and, as a result, he was not happy with Hermione.

***

Binns finally disappeared into the blackboard and Harry consulted his watch. It was now ten minutes to ten. As much as he had resolved himself to try and concentrate on Binns' lectures this term after an ignominious performance on the History of Magic O.W.Ls last term, Harry had found he could think of little else other than his approaching interrogation with the dreaded acting headmaster.

"We'll stay outside, Harry," Hermione looked meaningfully at Ron who seemed, to her annoyance, be staring off into space.

Ron suddenly snapped to life and nodded.

Harry frowned. "No, look, he won't like you being out there. It'll just make things worse."

"Well, we'll wait round the corner, then," said Ron. "He won't go looking."

Snape apparently had possessed the decency to remain in his own office instead of moving into Dumbledore's. Harry had always thought of it as being miles away from anywhere but on this occasion they seemed to arrive there quite quickly.

He left Hermione and Ron around the corner and gingerly knocked on Snape's door, fighting away a sudden attack of nausea.

"Enter," came a voice from inside.

***

Ron heard Harry enter Snape's office and close the door behind him with a sharp click that seemed to resound throughout the empty corridor around them.

Both he and Hermione seemed to wait for a moment, then look at each other. Ron realized as he was doing so that this was the first time they had been alone together since the night they had sat in Dumbledore's office. He felt a horrible, creeping nervousness rise to his cheeks as he also realized that this would be the perfect opportunity to ask Hermione what it was she had wanted to tell him. Ron discovered almost immediately, however, that his lips seemed wired shut.

There was a sudden sound of quick, light footsteps from the corridor behind him and Ron felt the mounting tension suddenly unwind. He turned around to see Arabella jogging toward them, her shoes tapping against the stone floor like the staccato beat of a drum. She was holding a piece of parchment in her hand.

"Oh, Hermione," she said, her brown eyes widening. "I've just come from the library. I finished looking up the information you asked me to find on Uric the Oddball and the house-elf uprising."

Hermione took the parchment from Arabella and read it with apparent interest.

"They even drafted a house elf bill of rights," Arabella continued, hopping back and forth on her feet with enthusiasm, bearing little resemblance to the terrified child who had sat next to them at the table during the feast two nights before. "It was all stuck in the back of this book in a small note, just like it wasn't anything important." Arabella frowned suddenly.

Hermione looked up from the parchment and smiled sagely. "These things often are, Arabella. Thank you very much. This will help us a great deal."

Arabella blushed slightly and left Hermione with a grin and a wave.

Hermione turned from the parchment to look up anxiously at Ron, steeling herself to fend off an acerbic remark. Ron had been secretly impressed at Hermione's compassion toward Arabella at the feast but now that he saw the direction their friendship had apparently taken, he was much less appreciative. The words "child exploitation" danced on his lips but he forced himself to restrain them.

Ron then saw Hermione's expression change from concern to surprise when no remark was forthcoming. He felt his heart start to beat faster and he knew that this the best chance he was likely to get to recover the Hermione he had met in Dumbledore's office three nights before.

"I wonder what Snape's saying to him in there," Hermione had suddenly started saying, seeming anxious to make some sort of small talk and change the topic of conversation. "I - "

"Hermione." Ron cut her off.

Hermione stopped talking and suddenly looked at Ron with even greater surprise. It was obvious to her from the way he had interrupted and the tone of his voice that he had something serious to say to her.

"Ron," she said tentatively. "What is it?"

"You - you remember that night, the time we were in Dumbledore's office, the night we thought - well - "

"Of course I do." Hermione suddenly felt nervous as Ron's pallor became identical to that of his sister a few hours earlier.

"Well, I - I, you know, I was just thinking about, well, I mean," Ron was suddenly looking down at his shoes. "Well, when we were - I mean, when we were talking, y - you said there was something you wanted to tell me and well," he looked up, feeling a sudden strange burst of courage. "Honestly, Hermione, you didn't tell me and I've really been dying to know."

Hermione continued to stare at him for a moment, a look of surprise still fixed on her face. Ron suddenly noticed that the ink on the parchment Arabella had given her was starting to smudge from the sweat on her hands.

"That," she finally said. "Yes." She started to look away. "I remember. OK," she sighed. "I'll tell you."

***

Harry slowly opened the door and walked in. Snape was sitting on the other side of his desk, cradling some sort of foul smelling liquid in a small cup in his hands, which he seemed to be studying thoughtfully. For a brief irrational moment, Harry wondered if Snape was going to poison him or administer some kind of Veritaserum.

But then Snape looked up, a thin scowl lining his face as if he was trying to smile but had forgotten how.

"Tea?" he asked Harry, pointing to a large pot on the other side of his desk.

Harry was so surprised that he dropped his bag onto the floor. "Sorry, sir," he said quickly, picking up the bag. "No, thank you, sir."

Snape shrugged, poured some of the contents of the pot into his cup and began to drink it.

He looked down again for what seemed to Harry a brief eternity and then searched Harry with a stare. Harry forced himself not to look away.

"I'll come straight to the point, Potter."

Harry swallowed. Snape's mouth suddenly folded into a horribly contorted expression as if he had been forced to spend the night with a foul-smelling skrewt.

"I suppose you are probably wondering why I chose to punish Mr. Malfoy yesterday afternoon rather than Mr. Weasley and yourself."

"No, sir," replied Harry. "That is, I - I wouldn't presume to think - well, what I mean to say is - "

"You needn't bother yourself any further, Potter," said Snape icily. "I was not inviting a response. And I know perfectly well that you presume a great deal. However," Snape tapped his fingers thoughtfully on the desk. "I believe you deserve some sort of explanation."

Harry didn't answer this time but continued to look at Snape.

Snape's lips twitched and there again was that hideous attempt at a smile. "As you well know, Potter, I have, at times, been somewhat - " Snape paused, "curt with you."

Harry opened his mouth in astonishment. Snape had treated him like something less than vermin for the past five years.

"It was for your own good, you understand," Snape added quickly. "I wanted to treat you like any other boy, not as a famous celebrity who was above the rules. I daresay you wouldn't have understood this when you were younger but now, perhaps, you can begin to see the point."

Harry was quick to nod eagerly though he did not believe anything of the sort.

"Since I am acting headmaster this year, I have, however, certain responsibilities," Snape said, enunciating the last word through clenched teeth. "I had to make it clear to Mr. Malfoy that he, too, was not above school rules. You, on the other hand...." Snape almost seemed to shudder, "appeared to be the victim in the case. However," and here Snape leaned forward and looked closely at Harry, seeming much more at ease. "That does not mean that I will turn a blind eye, Potter, when you and your friends, who are waiting patiently for you around the corridor this very minute" Snape seemed to enjoy the look of surprise on Harry's face, "are truly breaking school rules." Snape's expression hardened again. "I want to make that very clear."

"Yes, sir."

Snape leaned back again. "That is all, Potter."

"Thank you, sir." Harry quickly got up and walked in the direction of the door.

"Oh and Potter," said Snape, causing Harry to look back. "I trust you understand the danger you are facing this year. In the absence of Professor Dumbledore, should you come across anything that, shall we say, disturbs you," Snape chose this word with what seemed like great reluctance, "I hope that you avoid taking matters into your own hands and inform me at once." Snape folded his arms.

"Of course, sir," said Harry and turned to leave, thinking to himself that this was the last thing he would do.

Harry walked out of Snape's office and rounded the corner to where Ron and Hermione were waiting.

"It's all right." He exhaled deeply. "I can't figure him out though."

The last of Harry's words came out very quietly as he suddenly looked properly at his two friends. Ron's face was flushed red and his arms were folded. There was an unreadable expression on his face that looked like a mix of anger and guilt. Hermione seemed to be taking nervous breaths and looked generally miserable. Harry did not know what had happened while he had been talking to Snape but he guessed this was not the time to ask.

***

Hermione didn't tell Ron, at least not right away. She continued to stand there nervously. Ron could swear that the wizard puffs he had eaten for breakfast were performing enchanted acrobatics in his stomach. This final hesitation was killing him but it seemed to be killing Hermione as well.

But when Hermione finally spoke, Ron discovered that she did not say anything he might have expected.

"I - I - well, I did really want to wait to tell you until Harry was here."

"What?"

Hermione took a step backwards. "Well, you know," she continued tentatively. "I mean, the night we were talking in Dumbledore's office, well, I thought Harry was dead and so, well, but now, he's not and so - "

"What the hell does this have to do with Harry?"

Ron's sudden release of pent up frustration took both he and Hermione by surprise. Hermione took a much larger step backward and her face went red. She suddenly looked very vulnerable again, just as she had on the night they had thought Harry was dead. Ron had wanted to see this face again but not now, not because he had exploded at her.

"Hermione, I - I'm sorry, I didn't mean - " Ron started to walk toward Hermione and she remained rigid to the spot. Ron had a sudden, unusual urge to grab her into his arms but instead he stopped centimeters from her face. As he looked at Hermione, he could see that his apology had come too late. He watched in sadness as her defenses went up and her expression began to harden.

"If you can't wait," she snapped. "I suppose I can tell you now. I - I don't want be an Auror."

"What?"

"I'm sorry," said Hermione defensively. "I know we've talked about it off and on ever since Mad-Eye Moody and our fourth year but I just, I don't think it's right for me. I want to help in the fight against Voldemort, too, of course, but I'm just not - not - not right for the work. You know me, I'm more - well, I like books and things. I want to keep studying and - and maybe teach or do library work, or something like that."

But Ron wasn't really listening. He had imagined he would feel much better when Hermione had finally told him what she hadn't been able to bring herself to say three nights before. But instead he felt as stupid as a troll and, although he was afraid to admit it even to himself, he also felt somehow disappointed and not because Hermione didn't want to be an Auror..

"It's - it's OK, Hermione," said Ron, trying hard to smile. "It doesn't matter."

But Ron could see he was not going to get away so easily. Hermione had folded her arms and was staring at him with a stern look that reminded Ron of his now promoted Potions master.

"Why?" she demanded. "What did you think I was going to say?"

"I - I don't know," Ron stammered. "I - I just don't know. I just didn't think - "

"I suppose not," Hermione finished, suddenly looking very hurt.

They turned away from each other then. Several long minutes passed before Harry finally emerged from Snape's office.

***

Hermione and Ron did not speak to each other during lunch. Harry had told them what had happened between him and Snape but though the three of them were sitting together, Ron and Hermione never actually reacted to anything the other said as if they were both having individual conversations with Harry.

Finally, following lunch, Hermione disappeared to Muggle Studies and Ron to Divination, which despite meeting only twice a week now took place on consecutive Tuesdays and Wednesdays ever since Professor Trelawney had discovered last spring that a student would drop dead on the spot during her next Thursday class. The Quidditch tryouts were just around the corner and Harry had arranged to meet with Madame Hooch ahead of time. Almost everyone except for Harry had an elective class during this period, but his own extra lessons with Professor Nevins had not yet begun. As a result, he found himself alone on one of the many winding corridors that led from Gryffindor Tower to Madame Hooch's new office in the back wing of the castle. Clutching both his new Firebolt II and the bag which contained his parchment and quill for notes during the meeting, Harry found his progress particularly cumbersome. Moreover, he also found that he was preoccupied with trying to guess what had gone wrong between his two friends.

Because of this, he did not notice when something suddenly hit him hard into the wall, sending his broomstick and bag flying.

Harry looked around, wondering if Malfoy was attempting some kind of revenge, but quickly saw Peeves chuckling merrily, brandishing a long stick with a net at the end.

"It's a Muggle sport," said Peeves gleefully, eager to explain. "It's very violent. And look, I caught the Quidditch captain, the famous captain, the not-yet-dead captain. Oh, we'll have so much fun together, Potter, when you're a ghost!"

Harry cursed himself for shivering as Peeves ran off down the corridor cackling, turning back every now and then like a small child to see if Harry was chasing him.

Harry sighed and swore loudly when he found that his bag had split open. He gingerly tried to replace the contents when he became aware of a sudden flash of wand light behind him. The contents of his bag quickly rearranged themselves in neat order and the hole re-sealed itself. A voice behind Harry suddenly said:

"I've often thought of having Peeves expelled but then it's always good to have someone around who keeps one on one's toes."

Harry froze. He knew that voice. But it couldn't be.

Slowly, as if he feared that any sudden movement would make the owner of the voice disappear, he turned his head around and like a sailor seeing the bright white cliffs of home once again, found himself looking into the azure eyes of Albus Dumbledore.

"Professor," Harry exclaimed in amazement. "But - but what are you doing here?"

Dumbledore put a finger to his lips. "Not so loud, Harry. If everyone knew I was here, I fear I'd never be able to leave again and I've only returned for a few short errands, among them delivering to you this broomstick and making sure that everything is in order." Dumbledore fixed Harry with a scrutinizing gaze.

Harry grinned broadly as an ocean of calm seemed to sweep over him. Though nothing else may have changed, it was reassuring to know that Dumbledore had returned - that he could return, that, perhaps, as he had said, he wasn't really all that far away.

Dumbledore seemed to smile at the look on Harry's face. "I see you have your new broomstick in hand."

"Sirius?" Harry said suddenly.

"Fine," replied Dumbledore. "I have sent Sirius on a special mission. And I will return to him soon. I trust everything is in order with Headmaster Snape."

Harry cringed for a brief moment at the title but then nodded. He recalled Snape's behavior on the Quidditch pitch and his talk with the headmaster that morning. It was now obvious to Harry that Dumbledore had talked to Snape before he had left, and that somehow, as awful as it was to Snape, he had been finally forced to improve his behavior toward Harry - and Malfoy - even when Dumbledore was not around. This was indeed excellent news.

"Good." Dumbledore smiled serenely. "Then if there is nothing else, I will take my leave."

Dumbledore moved with surprising speed away from Harry and around the corner into the adjacent corridor. Harry remained standing for a few moments, a smile still fixed on his face, and then for reasons he himself was not quite sure, went back and turned the corner himself to watch Dumbledore's retreat.

But he was already gone.

***

Sometime that evening, Draco Malfoy rubbed furiously at an obstinate blemish on the trophy awarded to Slytherin house for their victory in the 1874 inter-house Quidditch cup. He then put down the crude cloth he had been given and sighed, massaging his cold legs for what seemed like the thousandth time. Looking around furtively, he put his right hand in the pocket of his robes. He was about to draw out his wand when he heard footsteps approaching. The door to the cold, dark Potions classroom swung open and the acting headmaster glided in like a bat.

Malfoy quickly replaced his hand and forced himself to continue to look down at the trophy. He suddenly felt a rush of anger warm his body and rise to the top of his head. He was determined not to look up and give Snape the dissatisfaction of seeing his discomfort.

Whatever it was he had done, thought Malfoy, it had certainly not justified the punishment he was getting. If Snape had been displeased with him - and the old Potions master and head of Slytherin house had never shown him this before - he could have punished him quietly, but to humiliate him in front of Potter, Weasley, and that foul-smelling mudblood Granger was an insult to Malfoy's dignity and to that of the house Snape was supposed to lead and Malfoy felt deeply betrayed. Ever since the Dark Lord had returned, Malfoy had defended Snape against those like his father who called him a traitor. Malfoy had thought he had known his teacher much better than that; he had believed that Snape was merely biding his time, that when the moment was right, he would return to Voldemort and deliver Potter's head to him on a platter. But after today, he wondered whether his father might have been right after all.

Snape's soft footsteps approached the table where Malfoy was working.

"What do you want?" Malfoy surprised himself at the rashness to which his anger was leading him.

"You should have finished that trophy some while ago."

"If I could use magic - "

"I'm afraid not," was the flat reply.

Malfoy didn't answer. He continued to rub the obstinate blemish with the remains of the cloth. After a moment, Malfoy became aware that Snape wasn't moving; he just continued to stand right in front of him. But Malfoy was determined not to let himself be intimidated like some common Gryffindor. He refused to look up.

"You understand, of course," said Snape finally, "that I have certain responsibilities now."

Malfoy continued to ignore him.

"It would not do to appear too... prejudiced."

Malfoy scrubbed at the spot with vigor.

Suddenly Snape caught hold of his wrist. Malfoy finally looked up and found Snape staring down into his eyes, his own unusually large and bright.

"You are no longer a child, Mr. Malfoy, unless you insist to be treated like one. There is more at stake now than house points. And we could have so much in common, you and I."

***

After his visit from Dumbledore, Harry felt he was suddenly relieved from a crushing weight. He felt what only a few days before he would have thought impossible, that he was able to slip into a routine, that he was even able at times to concentrate, that safe in the Hogwarts castle surrounded by his friends, there were times that he almost forgot about the danger he was in were he ever to leave the castle walls. Snape had barely said at word to him since the day they had met in his office. Occasionally they would pass in the corridors and Snape would manage a ghost of a nod as if acknowledging Harry was the most painful thing he had ever done. Harry felt sure that he had been forced to act this way because of Dumbledore.

It was at the end of the second week of the term that a substitute Potions master had arrived and their course load had finally filled out. There was much rumor and speculation about who the new Potions master would be: Neville was convinced it would be Snape's long lost brother or cousin and spent much time laying out the evidence in support of this belief to anyone who would listen. With each of Neville's new accounts, the imagined relative grew ever more sinister.

When the real Potions master finally arrived, however, it was obvious that she bore no relation to Snape. A plump witch with a rosy complexion who reminded Harry a little of Mrs. Weasley, Professor Dibble soon proved to be as different in manner to Professor Snape as she was in appearance. She greeted the class on the first day with a broad smile and fussed like a mother hen that the school must not be feeding its students so well to have created such an unusually quiet class. It was apparent no one had informed her that the Gryffindors had been used to cowering in fear in the very same dungeon during the malevolent reign of her predecessor.

Professor Dibble's first lesson was very short and consisted mostly of her sorting out a cluster of untidy parchments to determine who was in the class and what they had covered. No homework was assigned and Ron speculated that the class would be a pushover, much to Hermione's disapproval. Harry, who was just glad his two friends had started speaking to each other again, privately agreed with Ron and everyone, most especially Neville, was relieved with their new Potions master.

That sense of relief continued until the second day of class. A much more relaxed group of Gryffindors (who were finally taking Potions without the Slytherins this year) gathered in the dungeon to await their new lesson. Ten minutes passed before Professor Dibble showed and when she did the students were mildly horrified to find that the front of her robes and her face was covered with black soot and that the front half of the long hat that she wore had been burned off. Hermione had immediately inquired of Professor Dibble's health and received a cheerfully flippant response that a minor accident had occurred during the third years' lesson the previous hour. The relatively relaxed atmosphere that had prevailed in the Potions classroom for one short day started to erode and the Gryffindors found themselves exchanging apprehensive glances. Professor Dibble then started a lesson about a new potion that could cure any bad case of nerves. Hermione noticed Ron and Harry start to take unusual interest and she, too, felt curious. So intent was the class on Professor Dibble's explanation that they did not notice what had happened to the ingredients she had placed into the cauldron in front of her. As she finished the explanation with a satisfied smile and invited the class to begin the procedure themselves, Dibble chanced to look into the bowl and let out a sudden cry of surprise.

"Oh," she said, frowning. "Why, what happened to the potion?"

There was almost immediately a loud scream. Neville, who had moved to the front row so that he could observe Dibble mix this obviously important potion more carefully, suddenly grabbed his foot and began howling. Neville's cries were soon followed by shouts of alarm from other students and the class and its instructor suddenly noticed that the obviously corrosive potion was seeping out onto the floor in front of Dibble's desk and had now reached the first row. There was a pushing and shoving of chairs as the students in the first three rows quickly grabbed their belongings and ran toward the back of the classroom. Dibble just stared at the cauldron in front of her which now featured a large gaping hole where there had previously been a bottom. The size of the hole exactly matched the one in the center of Dibble's desk. A large hole had also found its way into what now remained of Neville's right shoe.

Dibble looked back and forth from the cauldron to her notes, frowning as she did so. "Oh," she finally said, and gave the class an ingratiating smile. "Forgot to add the four-leaved clovers. An easy mistake to make if you're in a bit of a rush."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione just stared at each other.

Harry soon found, however, that even Professor Dibble's nerve wracking lessons did not alter his strange new peace. What made Harry feel even better was the start of the new Quidditch season. Snape chose to ban Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle from the Quidditch pitch during any Gryffindor practice and not one of the three Slytherins seemed tempted to test the extent of Snape's patience. Flying high on his new broomstick, Harry felt a deep sense of power and calm. Tryouts came and both Madame Hooch and Professor McGonagall gave Harry a great deal of leeway in selecting his own team. Harry surprised a number of people - but not Ron and Hermione - when he selected Arabella to replace the now graduated Angelina Johnson as the youngest chaser in fifty-nine years. At first, the news, which soon spread around the castle, had been greeted with disbelief: the idea that this short, nervous first-year could handle herself in the rough world of Quidditch was seen as somewhat of a joke. But Harry knew that Arabella's detractors had never seen her fly. Gliding effortlessly on a broomstick identical to Harry's, Arabella ducked and weaved like a hummingbird through her much larger opponents. Harry kept Arabella as a secret weapon, letting her practice together with the team only just before their first game. It was not unlike the strategy Oliver Wood had used those many years ago when he had first trained Harry as the youngest Gryffindor seeker in a century. In their first game against Hufflepuff, Arabella scored four goals in the first ten minutes. Then, before the stunned Hufflepuff team had time to react, Harry dived diagonally across the field and grabbed the golden snitch from where it had been hovering near the bottom of the Gryffindor goal post for the shutout victory.

After this match and the congratulations that seemed to follow Harry around, Voldemort seemed like a distant nightmare. He only returned to Harry's awareness as the end of October rolled around and it was time for the first Hogsmeade weekend. Harry suddenly realized that there was no way he would be allowed to go, and he knew Ron and Hermione realized it, too, as they seemed to become especially solicitous of his feelings as the weekend drew nearer.

At breakfast on the Monday morning before the Hogsmeade weekend, however, Hedwig arrived with a letter in her beak. Harry, who had received two additional letters from Sirius, both reassuring him that he and Buckbeak were fine but that he couldn't really tell Harry what he was doing, hoped that this letter contained news from his godfather as well but he quickly saw that it bore the familiar Hogwarts crest once again.

He opened the letter with mild curiosity. This time, it was not enchanted to transfigure into the ghostly face of the acting headmaster but it was he who had sent the letter just the same.

Dear Mr. Potter,

As you are well aware, it is not safe for you to travel far from the Hogwarts grounds at this time. However, in conferring with Professor Dumbledore, who has made significant progress in securing your safety, I have decided to grant you permission to participate in the Hogsmeade excursion this weekend if you so wish. Based on your past disregard for those trying to protect you, it is obvious that you will attempt to leave the castle in any case, and I, for one, would feel much safer knowing your exact whereabouts. Please confine your activities to the village itself and remain accompanied by others and in plain sight of the public at all times.

Sincerely,

Severus Snape

Acting Headmaster

Harry read the letter three times in disbelief, before handing it to Ron who looked it over.

"Excellent, Harry." He beamed. "I can't wait to go to Honeydukes. I'm all out of Fizzing Whizzbees!"

Hermione grabbed the letter from Ron's hand and read it, her eyebrows arching up in surprise.

"This is wonderful news, Harry," she said carefully, "but are you really sure it's safe?"

Ron crossed his arms and stared at Hermione.

"Dumbledore says it's safe so it must be, right?"

"I don't know, Ron." Hermione frowned. "Maybe there's something he's overlooked."

Harry broke in, anxious to avoid a dispute, but still too elated to stop smiling. "I promise I'll only stay where there are lots of people, Hermione, just like the letter said. The Death Eaters wouldn't dare to strike."

Hermione continued to frown. "I suppose not."

As far as Ron and Harry were concerned, this settled the matter. The two friends immediately began making their plans for the weekend. So engrossed were they in conversation that they did not notice Hermione's expression change from concern to revelation. They just nodded when she excused herself and they did not notice her having an animated whispered conversation with Ginny, whom she had taken aside at the other end of the table.

***

Later that same night, Lord Voldemort stood once again alone in the dark forest. What unicorns he had not slain had fled, perhaps never to return. They were not alone. Every creature from owls to crickets to vampire bats had flown in fright. Even the trees in the small circle where Voldemort stood seem to sway away from him in the swirling wind.

The creatures need not have been so concerned, however, for on this night, Voldemort would gain the self-possession to control his hunger. He was not here to indulge himself although he reflected for a moment, almost philosophically, on how the dangerous fulfillment of his appetites had created a silent space where Voldemort could carry out one of the most important stages of his plan to capture and kill Harry Potter. The creatures feared the hot rage of his appetites just as the Death Eaters feared the cool menace of his wrath.

Voldemort stood and folded his arms as he had the night he had stood outside the Burrow. He was waiting for something. He knew that he would wait as long as it was necessary.

But he did not have to wait for long. A thin beam of moonlight that had moments before shone on empty earth now reflected off the dark robes of Lord Voldemort's most faithful Death Eater. Voldemort felt his lips curl into a smile as he watched the Death Eater look down at the arms. Then, as always in the presence of the Dark Lord but never in front of any other, the Death Eater rolled up the sleeves of his robes, his pale white skin now shining as bright in the moonlight as the silvery fur of the slain unicorn. Bright that was but for one spot - the Dark Mark - which pulsed as the Death Eater looked down on it.

The Death Eater approached Voldemort, not with the hurried, nervous footsteps of many of the Dark Lord's other servants but with slow, measured and patient strides.

"You have news," said Voldemort, almost softly. He found it difficult to conceal his admiration for the Death Eater's comportment.

"Potter has been told that he can visit Hogsmeade with his friends this weekend."

"And he will go? Just like that? So easily?"

The Death Eater broke into a chilling smile. "He would perhaps have gone in any case. But this way we can be sure. He trusts his protectors. He does not believe they would betray him. Not now."

"Even you?" Voldemort raised an eyebrow.

"Even me."

Voldemort suddenly broke into a high cackling laughter. "This trust of Dumbledore's spreads like a contagion among the weak. Though I admit from what I have learned of him, I would have thought Potter capable of more cunning. He must be so desperate to believe."

"It appeals to his vanity."

"You are as ever an excellent judge of character."

The Death Eater paused for a moment. "You do not trust then?"

Voldemort closed his eyes and smiled as if smelling a rare wine. "How I miss the stimulation of a challenge when you are gone. I tire so easily of all the sycophants that surround me. You want to know, perhaps, whether I trust you?" Voldemort smiled slightly as he sensed the Death Eater stiffen ever so slightly. "No, I do not. I do not trust anyone. Trust is for the weak. I rely on you. Perhaps more than I rely on anyone. Why? Because you are different from the others. They serve me because they fear me or perhaps because they believe that through their loyalty to me they can settle their own petty grudges. Only you appreciate the subtle science of power."

"Your other Death Eaters believe that I am a traitor."

Voldemort waved his wand dismissively. "Only because I have told them so. And because they do not understand you. They do not appreciate the art of patience and cunning. I do." Voldemort smiled again for a moment, then grew serious. "But we should return to the matters at hand. The Weasley girl. She will go with Potter?"

"Of course, I cannot be sure. She has no reason not to. Unlike Potter, she appears to have no sense she is in danger."

Voldemort nodded, half to himself. "She will stay with him, I think, or at least try. In any case, it will be our little test."

The Death Eater paused again. "My Lord."

Voldemort looked up to face him again. "You have a suggestion, I think."

"I do. If Weasley accompanies Potter, would it not be best to strike now, while he is exposed, when no one is expecting it?"

Voldemort regarded the Death Eater curiously for a moment. "Do not tell me that your patience is starting to wane, not now, when we are so near? We are still too vulnerable. This weekend is but a piece of a larger puzzle. One that, when put together, will place us at the very heart of the wizarding world before anyone realizes we had ever approached. Surely such a beautiful victory is worth waiting for?"

"Indeed, my lord."

"I thought you would see it that way. Now try your best to ensure that Potter and Weasley go on their little trip together. It will be so sweet." Voldemort smiled wickedly. "And our plan will be that much nearer to completion."

Severus Snape smiled a low, haunting smile, then turned away from Voldemort and Disapparated.