Harry Potter and the Silent Siege

swishandflick

Story Summary:
Little Whinging fireman Henry Middleton never saw anything as strange as the day No. 4 Privet Drive burned down with everything else left standing; for Lord Voldemort, who has finally found a way to break Dumbledore's old magic, killing Harry was too easy, but did he really succeed? Why is Ginny Weasley having nightmares and why is Snape the acting headmaster? Broomstick chases, deadly dueling, and a Guy Fawkes ball are just some of the things facing our heroes in their sixth year at Hogwarts. Original A/U version with Sirius. R/H, H/G.

Chapter 10

Chapter Summary:
Little Whinging fireman Henry Middleton never saw anything as strange as the day No. 4 Privet Drive burned down with everything else left standing; for Lord Voldemort, who has finally found a way to break Dumbledore’s old magic, killing Harry was too easy, but did he really succeed? Why is Ginny Weasley having nightmares and why is Snape the acting headmaster? Broomstick chases, deadly dueling, and a Guy Fawkes ball are just some of the things facing our heroes in their sixth year at Hogwarts. R/H, H/G. Chapter 10 - the Guy Fawkes Ball is finally here! Four romantic Gryffindors, one nasty dark lord, original wizard games, and even a song!
Posted:
06/25/2003
Hits:
1,578
Author's Note:
Thanks to those who reviewed Chapter 9. This will be the last post for a while as I think people will be busy reading and then discussing OoTP and I want everyone to have time to review! But don't fret: I've left you with the longest chapter yet and there are discussion questions on the review thread should the wait prove too long. Chapter 11 will be posted shortly after Nimbus 2003. Hope to see some of you there. Another note: this chapter was written before OoTP was released and does not contain any spoilers. Enjoy!

Chapter 10

Stirring the Potion

Cho Chang sat by herself in the Ravenclaw common room. She gave her Nimbus 2001 broomstick another rub with the new Broomstick Polishing Kit she had bought at the Hogsmeade Quidditch shop and sighed. It wasn't as if she didn't have any male friends. But not one of them had asked her to the dance. Apparently, they all thought she was going with the ghost of Cedric. They were wrong.

And then there was Harry.

She sighed again.

***

Voldemort smiled cruelly as he watched the potion in the cauldron beside him simmer slowly. Nagini had returned. She had managed to consume a few spiders before the rest of them fled and now she was lying curled up in an overfed stupor. Voldemort was not concerned. He would need her milk for the final ingredient but there was still some time left yet.

***

Sirius watched as Dumbledore continued to gently stir the potion in the cauldron in front of them. The vapors were rising higher and higher in the air now and a blue light reflected eerily off their faces in the pitch black of the forest night.

Sirius sighed. He wondered if it was enough.

***

Ginny jumped up startled as Harry gently rested his broomstick on the table in front of her.

"Sorry," he said.

Ginny stared up at Harry, blinked, and opened her mouth in surprise.

"Er, I can do this somewhere else if you'd like," said Harry. "I just thought maybe - "

"Oh." Ginny shook her head. "Please." She invited Harry to sit down at the chair opposite her. "I just - I'm sorry, I thought you were going to the ball. I - I mean I thought everyone was going except me." Ginny's voice trailed off. She continued to stare at Harry.

Harry wasn't quite sure why Ginny was looking at him like that. "Er," he added. "If you want to be alone, I'll - "

"No, no, no. I - I - not at all."

Ginny dug her nails into her palms under the table and forced herself to come to terms with the staggering implications of what she was seeing. She had thought very little about the ball all morning, attending her classes as usual. This had all abruptly changed after lunch with Catherine and Amanda. Ginny could tell from long acquaintance that they had planned something to say to her ahead of time. They had wanted to know whether she was going to the ball. No. Then they had wanted to know why. Ginny had said she didn't want to go.

But Amanda and Catherine had not swallowed this very obvious lie. While Ginny had never told them any specific details, it was obvious she had wanted to go with Harry and that for some reason she wasn't able to. Then the usual lecture had followed: Ginny shouldn't waste her life pining for Harry; she was very attractive and should go and find some other nice boy to go to the dance with. Ginny had tried to be patient at first; she knew her friends meant well. But then they had started to suggest that she invite a rather nervous-looking if not unattractive Hufflepuff whom they'd just happened to hear was still without a partner for the dance. Ginny had kept insisting that she wasn't interested. She'd finally lost her patience when they'd suggested asking the Hufflepuff over to their table. She had stormed out of the hall and down to her usual hideout.

And there she had remained through all of her afternoon classes. And through supper. Moaning Myrtle had been blissfully absent and Ginny had sat by herself. Finally, after she knew the dance had already started, she had slipped back up to Gryffindor Tower, having resolved to spend the rest of the night reading a good book.

But she had not counted on Harry Potter.

Ginny looked up at Harry. He had opened his Broomstick Servicing Kit and had started examining his Firebolt carefully to see if it needed any repairs. It seemed to Ginny that the broomstick was flawless but she supposed Harry was very fastidious about these things.

Her mind raced through the implications of what was happening. Everything she had pondered, imagined, and agonized over all afternoon had now collapsed like a castle of cards. It was obvious that Harry had not asked Cho to the ball or if he had, she had said no.

For a while, Ginny's mind was filled with the strange idea that Harry would spontaneously invite her to the ball. That they would quickly go and change. That he would lead her down the stairs and into the Great Hall. She imagined that Harry would dance with her very slowly, that they would discuss how fate had thrown them together, that Harry would tell her how he had loved her ever since that night in the chamber, but that he had never had the courage to tell her.

Harry looked up surprised as Ginny visibly shook her head. He did not know that Ginny was trying to clear her mind of all her fantasies and dreams, that she was trying to live in the present. If Hermione had been here, she would have told Ginny that she should ask Harry, right then and there. But Ginny could clearly see that things had changed and that she could have something much, much better than a date with Harry to the ball. She could spend the evening with him alone in Gryffindor Tower, without the constant presence of his friends, teammates, and admirers. Maybe they could talk. Maybe they could do more than just talk. Maybe -

Ginny balled her fists under the table. She was starting to slip away into her fantasies again. Ginny decided she would start at the beginning: she wasn't going to spend the whole evening watching Harry repair his broomstick.

"Um." The sound of her voice suddenly sounded strange to Ginny.

Harry stopped his polishing and looked up.

"Are - are you really busy with polishing your broomstick? I mean - " Ginny went on before Harry could suggest that he was bothering her again. "I - I was wondering whether, well, whether you'd like to play a game?"

"Oh." Harry smiled, a little surprised. "OK."

***

Ron led Hermione down the long staircase outside the main entrance to the school and into the Great Hall. They hadn't said a word to each other since leaving Gryffindor Tower. As they approached the door, Ron realized it wouldn't be so easy to talk to Hermione alone once they were inside.

"Harry was right, you know," he said.

Hermione looked back into his eyes. "I know."

"I - I hope we can, well, enjoy ourselves tonight."

Hermione smiled. "We will. Ron?"

"Yes."

"You don't have to hold my hand quite so tightly. I won't run away, I promise."

"Oh. Right." Ron let go of Hermione's hand and looked down at his own. It was glistening with sweat. He smiled nervously at Hermione and gestured for her to walk into the hall ahead of him.

The hall was dark except for the lights of the aisle risers where the first, second, and third years were already sitting along with most of the teachers. Even the enchanted ceiling was black from the cloudy night outside. Hermione and Ron made their way to a series of round tables in front of the dance floor where the older students were sitting. They found two seats at a table for four next to Parvati and Neville. Ron could see that Neville's face was still so white he looked like he belonged in the orchestra.

"How are they going to have a fireworks display in here?" Ron wondered.

Ron couldn't see very well in the dark but he could tell that Hermione was smiling one of her omniscient smiles.

"You'll see," she said.

They did not have to wait long. There were a few sudden gasps as a luminescent Binns floated up from the floor and stood in the middle of the dance floor.

"Distinguished professors, students, and fellow ghosts, good evening," he said, making little effort to vary from his usual monotone. "Tonight we have a special treat for you all," he went on in a tone that suggested it was anything but. "You have all been learning about the wizard role in the gunpowder plot. In 1603, Henrietta Handsdowne - "

Ron quickly found his attention slipping away as Binns droned on about the details of the gunpowder plot and wizard-Muggle relations in the early seventeenth century for what seemed like a good half hour. Looking around, Ron became aware of restless fidgeting all around him. Two second-year Slytherins had started to play Exploding Snap in the risers and had to be silenced by a particularly irate-looking Snape. Binns hadn't seemed to notice, however, and continued to drawl on. Finally, Ron was aware that he had stopped talking and was looking up expectantly at the risers where the staff was sitting.

Professor Flitwick prodded Professor McGonagall, who had fallen asleep in her chair. Looking around in surprise, her eyes fell on Binns and she quickly got up and walked with Flitwick to the far wall. Both of them took out their wands and said:

"Aparecium Bonfire!"

An excited murmur ran throughout the hall as the far wall seemed to disappear and was replaced with a full view of the Hogwarts grounds outside just as the ceiling was enchanted to show the night's sky. Ron's eyes went wide in surprise as he saw an enormous tower of logs piled outside topped with a large straw effigy. Filch stood in front of the pile. Ron felt Hermione tense beside him as they could see Filch shouting at a team of nervous-looking house elves. He waved the house elves around in a row. Ron could see him holding up one finger, then two, and then three. The house elves made a swishing motion with their hands and the hall was suddenly ablaze in light as the bonfire burst into flame. The audience clapped appreciatively.

But the show was not yet over. Filch directed another team of house elves to an open space just to the left of the bonfire. Two house-elves carried a large dark cylindrical object to an open spot on the ground. Evidently, they had put it in the wrong place for Filch immediately started waving his arms up and down angrily. Looking frightened, the two house-elves then replaced the object into what now seemed like the correct location. One house-elf held a very large looking wand in both hands and pointed it at the ground while the other two put their hands over their large ears.

The hall was soon filled with gasps and shouts of approval as a bright red firecracker volleyed into the air and exploded high above the school in the shape of the Hogwarts crest. Soon several other firecrackers were launched and exploded into the shapes of the each of the four Hogwarts houses. The light from the fireworks bled seamlessly up from the ground into the sky as enchanted wall met enchanted ceiling. It seemed just like they were sitting outside except that it still felt warm and cozy. Ron grinned approvingly but his grin faded when he looked over to Hermione and saw that she was not smiling at all but had folded her arms across her chest in disapproval.

"Slave labor," she muttered.

Ron frowned.

After several minutes, the fireworks show ended and the audience clapped and whistled. Binns stood in the center of the room once again.

"And now wizards, witches, and ghosts: I present to you Miss Henrietta Handsdowne and the Ghostly Ghoul Orchestra." Binns' face broke into a ghastly-looking grin that looked like it had been pasted on his face.

The students and teachers clapped politely as the orchestra emerged from the floor in the same manner as Binns. The ghosts were all men, dressed in frilly lace robes and long wigs. Having already attended one ghost performance his second year, Ron was a little anxious about what the orchestra would play and how they would sound. He was relieved to see they carried somewhat normal looking instruments, which evidently belonged to the period of time they had been alive.

They were soon joined by a tall watch in long white frilly robes and an enormous pointed hat which covered what had once been curly blond locks. Hermione was surprised at how young and beautiful she looked and wondered how she had died. She tried to avoid noticing how Binns stood to one side, his face still shriveled into an emaciated smile, watching her in adoration. She forced herself to remember that once, when he was still alive, Binns had been just as young as Henrietta was.

The orchestra struck up a tune. It full of high, strange cords and sounded almost unearthly which, Ron reflected, it probably was. Both he and Hermione jumped as Henrietta Handsdowne suddenly broke with gusto into a forceful melody. But at least it seemed in tune.

Ron watched as several couples started to move out onto the dance floor. He looked nervously at Hermione but was relieved to find she no longer looked angry.

He tried to ask her to dance but got stuck on the letter "d" in "do."

"Oh, Ron." She cut him off with a smile. "I'd love to dance."

"I - I promise not to hold your hand too tightly this time."

"I'm sure you won't." Hermione let Ron lead her out onto the dance floor. Ron half-expected the other couples to stop and start looking at them but nothing of the sort occurred. They moved around the floor, trying hard to judge the rhythm of the unusual piece the orchestra was playing. But neither had stepped on the others' toe yet.

"You dance well," Ron said to Hermione.

"Thanks." There was that shy smile again Ron wasn't used to seeing. "I took a lot of lessons when I was a child. I think my parents thought I was going to be a ballerina for a time. But then I sort of lost interest."

"I never knew that."

"You never asked." Hermione smiled again.

There was something about the way Hermione looked at him that could make him feel as tight as a knot one moment and all his fears and tensions melt away the next. But this time it seemed to have the second effect. Ron started to feel he really was going to enjoy the dance with Hermione.

***

A miniature version of Professor Flitwick stood on the top of a large pile of squares which now sat on top of the round table where Harry and Ron usually played wizard chess.

The Flitwick figure chuckled approvingly. "Excellent, Miss Weasley," he squeaked. "Ten points to Gryffindor!"

Harry and Ginny giggled as Flitwick disappeared.

The game, which was called Spellmaster, consisted of several rows of square blocks leading up a pyramid. The object of the game, Ginny had explained, was to advance to the top of the tower before the other player. The squares were all different colors and each color represented a different category: there was Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, and Potions but also Muggles, Quidditch, and Famous Witches and Wizards. The tricky part of the game was to avoid categories you weren't very good at while still moving to the top. If you answered a question correctly, you could move to a square on the next level. You could move to the square directly or diagonally above your piece, depending on the category you wanted to answer. Then you were asked another question. If you answered a question wrong, you had to move back one level.

"Where are the playing pieces?" asked Harry.

"Oh." Ginny flicked her wand and a miniature Ginny appeared on her side of the board, which looked just like the real Ginny except that it was proportionally much taller. A miniature Harry, dressed in Gryffindor Quidditch robes, appeared on Harry's side.

"You have a 'Harry' figure?" asked Harry in disbelief. "Please don't tell me it came with the game."

Ginny blushed. "No, no, I, er, I added some people I knew to the board - quite a lot of them." She smiled weakly and discreetly flicked her wand from under her side of the table so that the Harry figure no longer gazed longingly at its partner across the board. She was glad Harry hadn't seen the Cho figure.

"Well, shall we get started?" she asked.

"All right."

Ginny let Harry go first. He used his wand to guide his piece to a Quidditch square. Madam Hooch appeared and asked a question about the Hungary-England World Cup final of 1972 which Harry answered correctly. The three spaces above his piece were all Potions so he was forced to take a question from that category. Snape then appeared and asked about the medicinal properties of wolfsbane. Harry did not know the answer.

The miniature Snape frowned at the Harry figure. "Detention, Potter," it declared and shoved the Harry figure back down to the row below.

Harry thought he would win quite easily since he was a year ahead of Ginny, had read all there was to read about Quidditch, and had grown up with Muggles. But Ginny seemed to know quite a lot of the answers already and did just as well on Muggle studies (represented by an Arthur Weasley figure) as Harry did. The first game seemed to end very quickly with Ginny at the top of pyramid.

Harry frowned at Ginny's triumphant looking figure.

"Another game?" he asked.

Ginny could scarcely conceal her delight. Harry liked the game and he liked playing it with her. And she hadn't blushed too badly or felt the least bit like passing out. They were like normal friends playing a game. It was a start.

But Ginny's smile suddenly faded as she heard the portrait outside the common room move open. Her face fell further when the very last people in the world she wanted to see at that moment walked into the room.

But Harry grinned. "Fred! George!" he exclaimed. "What are you two doing here?"

"Didn't want you to have all the fun, did we?" replied Fred.

"We've come for the ball, of course," added George.

Ginny groaned inwardly. She felt certain that Fred and George would not leave without making some sort of remark about her and Harry sitting alone together.

"Don't let us stop you." She looked up pleadingly at her twin brothers.

But neither Fred nor George seemed particularly anxious to leave. They talked with Harry for a while about the prospects for the Quidditch team that year. Then Harry asked about the joke shop.

"Excellent!" replied George, with enthusiasm.

"Sales are wicked fast," added Fred. "We're thinking of adding a store in Hogsmeade."

"Really?" asked Harry.

Please don't, thought Ginny.

"And we've got loads of new items," said George.

"For example." Before Harry or Ginny knew what was happening, Fred had taken a wand out of his pocket, pointed it at Ginny and cried:

"Stupefy!"

Ginny gasped as a beam flashed out of Fred's wand and hit her in the chest. Harry watched in shock as Ginny began to breathe heavily and hold her chest at the point where the wand had struck. After a few moments, however, her breathing returned to normal as she realized the spell had no effect.

"Wicked, isn't it?" asked Fred.

"Much more realistic than our old joke wands," added George.

But Harry's smile had vanished. "I don't think that was very funny," he said.

"It's all right, Harry," replied Fred. "Ginny's used to us by now, aren't you, Gin?"

"Perhaps you should be getting along to the ball," replied Ginny frostily, trying to regain her composure. "I'm afraid it might have already started without you."

Ginny looked at Harry anxiously. She wondered whether he would contradict her but he just sat there looking at the twins with a stern expression on his face.

George looked at Harry's face and his own smile faded quickly. "Er, well, OK, perhaps we'd better?" He looked at his brother.

"Yeah." Fred managed a smile. "Well, see you later, Harry, Ginny." He tried not to notice the cold stares on the faces of the two younger Gryffindors as he and George walked out of the common room and down to the dance.

Harry turned back to look at Ginny as soon as they had left.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Harry," Ginny insisted, although Harry noticed she was looking down at the table again. "It wasn't a real spell as they said."

"No, but, you didn't know that."

Ginny didn't seem to want to discuss it any further. "It's OK, Harry. I can handle them. They're my brothers. You wouldn't understand."

Ginny looked up in time to see Harry turn very pale. She cursed herself a thousand times as she realized too late the horrible implications of what she'd just said. If James and Lily Potter had lived beyond their first son's first birthday, they might have had just as many children as her own parents.

"Harry," she said, her eyes wide. "I'm really sorry. I didn't think. I just - "

"It's OK, Ginny," said Harry quietly. "It doesn't matter." He shrugged, a little unnaturally. There was a look in his eyes she found difficult to read. She looked down at his hand which rested on the table very near her own. She found herself starting to breathe a little heavier as she her inched her fingers closer to his. But then she quickly moved them away again as though she had wandered too near a hot stove. She felt her face flush and she forced herself to look up at Harry again. He was looking at her, too, but she still couldn't tell what he was thinking.

"Perhaps we'd better go on with the game," he finally said.

Ginny nodded.

***

Ron and Hermione were well into their fourth dance. The music hadn't improved very much but Ron didn't seem to notice. Hermione hadn't had the heart to suggest she was tired. Ron seemed to ask her before every dance, each time getting a little better at saying it.

Hermione suddenly trembled as a wave of cold air rushed through her. She looked around to see Moaning Myrtle and the Bloody Baron weaving and cutting through the pairs of solid couples. They eventually wheeled back around and passed in front of Ron and Hermione.

"Hello, Myrtle," said Hermione, a little anxiously. "You look very nice tonight."

In truth, Myrtle looked exactly as she always did. Hermione supposed ghosts couldn't really change their clothes.

"Oh, thank you, Hermione." Myrtle smiled and hovered next to the Bloody Baron. "And you look much less like a chipmunk than usual."

Ron tried very hard not to laugh.

"I'll fly through again later," Myrtle promised, beaming from ear to ear as the Bloody Baron led her back through the crowd, his gaunt face as impassive as ever.

"That's the first time I've seen her go half a minute without bawling her eyes out," remarked Ron.

"She has a date," replied Hermione, turning back to face him.

Ron smiled for a moment but then his face fell abruptly.

"What is it?" asked Hermione.

Ron responded by steering Hermione roughly into the far corner of the dance floor.

"Ron, where are we going? What's going on?"

"Two people I really don't want to see right now."

But Hermione, who had now been swung around to face the other direction, could see out of the corner of her eye that Ron was too late. She had little doubt that Ron had meant Fred and George as soon as she spotted them. She had to admit that under the circumstances, she wasn't too keen to see them either but the two Weasley twins had spotted them and were now cutting across the dance floor with evil grins on their faces.

***

A murky shaft of blue light rose up from the cauldron as Dumbledore slowly stirred the potion.

After Snape left, they had talked for some time about Sirius' efforts in retrieving the asphodel roots. Then as day fell into night, the conversation had slowed. For some while now they had sat in silence, concentrating only on the task at hand.

"I was thinking," said Sirius suddenly.

Dumbledore looked up from the potion but continued stirring.

"The day we were in the cave."

Dumbledore nodded for Sirius to go on.

Sirius took a deep breath. "If your plan succeeds and you confront Voldemort, what then?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Then we'll have to see."

Sirius wasn't very satisfied with this answer. He decided he would try a more direct question.

"Are you going to kill him?"

Dumbledore looked down at the potion again for a moment, then back up at Sirius.

"It depends," he replied.

"On what?" Sirius asked edgily.

"It is not a question of what he deserves. It is a question of how our world can best be safe."

"Surely our world would best be safe if it was rid of Voldemort?"

"That also depends."

"On what?" Sirius demanded incredulously.

"On whether by killing Voldemort, I would take his place."

Sirius didn't respond. For a few moments, he and Dumbledore stared at each other, then the greatest sorcerer of the age started the stirring the potion again.

***

"Hey, Ron, Hermione," said Fred.

"Do you mind?" asked Ron. "We're dancing."

No sooner were the words out of Ron's mouth that the music stopped and the audience turned to applaud. Worse, Binns' amplified voice announced that the orchestra was taking a ten minute rest.

They left with Fred and George to a nearby table.

"So, you two." George winked at Ron. "I heard."

"I don't think you heard anything," said Ron, suddenly red in the face.

Fred eyed Hermione up and down. "You look very nice, Hermione." He, too, winked at Ron.

"Thank you," replied Hermione, a little coldly.

Fred and George tried to talk about the joke shop but Hermione and Ron made it clear they wanted the conversation to end as quickly as possible.

"Well," said George, standing up, much to Ron's relief. "Got to be going. I heard Angelina's around, too."

Fred looked quizzically at George but then got up himself.

Hermione and Ron half-smiled and waved their goodbyes.

"I'm afraid we won't have gotten rid of them for the whole night," said Ron, as soon as they were out of earshot. "Sorry about that, Hermione."

But Hermione was no longer paying attention to Fred and George. Her gaze seemed fixed on the area of the dance floor just in front of the orchestra.

"It would all have been so perfect," she said.

Ron's face fell. "What would have been so perfect?" he asked suspiciously.

Hermione continued to stare at the stage. "We were going to use the Fillibuster fireworks we got from Zonko's to attract everyone's attention, then the house elves were going to enchant the dance floor right in front of the orchestra to form the letters S.P.E.W."

"Is that all?"

"Well, no," replied Hermione, a little defensively. "Then I was going to make a speech. And Colin. And maybe even Arabella. And Dobby, of course."

"Dobby?"

"They were too nervous about it, the house elves." Hermione sighed.

"And if they hadn't been?" Ron felt his blood start to rise in his cheeks.

Hermione didn't seem to take the hint. "But all that's over now, anyway."

Ron started to feel relieved. "Yes," he said, smiling.

But his smile was short lived as Hermione went on.

"We have to focus on the future now," she said. "Our plan for the ball was obviously too ambitious. We should try to educate the school. I know!" Hermione's face lit up. "We can have a contest. A sort of 'did you know' about the history of house-elf enslavement."

"What are you going do for prizes then?"

Ron regretted the question immediately.

Hermione seemed lost in thought for a moment and kept muttering "OK," "we could," and "he could" under her breath while Ron sat impatiently next to her.

"I know," she finally said. "The winner of the first prize will receive a week in a real elf village. They're not far from Hogsmeade," she went on enthusiastically. "I'll bet Dobby could arrange it for us."

"I know what the winner of the second prize could receive."

"Go on," said Hermione, pleased that Ron was finally entering into the spirit of the thing.

"Two weeks in a real elf village."

"Ron!"

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I just can't get myself worked up about house elves."

Hermione folded her arms. "Well, I just hope you realize that everything we've been enjoying tonight at this dance is due to their thankless labor. You saw the way Filch was bossing them about. He can't cast any real spells himself, of course."

"Filch is like that to everybody!" Ron protested.

"I know," replied Hermione, "but it's just not fair! They do thankless work for no pay and don't get any credit for it."

"Look, Hermione. Maybe you're right. But I can't create a house-elf revolution overnight. And," Ron's voice faltered for a moment, "I'd really like the chance to enjoy the rest of the dance with you."

Hermione half-smiled at Ron. "I know, Ron," she said quietly, looking at her fingernails. "I'm sorry. I just get carried away."

Ron started to feel a little better. "It's all right."

The Ghostly Ghoul Orchestra had started playing again and couples were moving back onto the floor. There was a sudden cry as Parvati wandered past them, limping in pain, followed closely by Neville who kept muttering apologies.

Ron looked back to Hermione. "Do you want to dance?"

Hermione smiled. "Why not?"

***

Draco Malfoy moved along the edge of the dance floor, his eyes darting back and forth through the crowd. His raised his eyebrows thoughtfully as he passed Pansy Parkinson, who was moving off the dance floor with her partner Adrian Pucey, a seventh-year chaser on the Slytherin Quidditch team.

Pansy stiffened slightly as she saw Malfoy approach and looked him frigidly in the eye.

"Good evening, Parkinson," drawled Malfoy.

Pansy held tightly onto Pucey's arm and looked back at Malfoy defiantly.

"Where's your partner, Draco?" she asked, a note of jealous pleasure in her voice.

"Seems I haven't got one, doesn't it?" Malfoy replied.

"Well," Pansy went on. "Maybe I can spare a dance for you later, if Adrian doesn't mind." She looked back at Malfoy with an expression that suggested such a thing was very unlikely.

"I wouldn't want to spoil your evening."

Malfoy moved past Pansy before she could offer another response. He amused himself momentarily by imagining her staring after him, enraged that he had remained so cool when seeing her with Pucey. Malfoy shook his head as he wondered how that girl could have ever been sorted into Slytherin. But he couldn't deny that she had helped him a great deal. He had little doubt that by the next day half the school would have heard her prattle on about her version of their encounter. No one would ever question whether or not he'd attended the dance.

Malfoy reached the entrance to the great hall, looked around for a moment to make sure no one was watching, then quickly left.

***

Ginny was now leading three games to two. The Harry figure was poised two levels from the top of the pyramid. With a little reluctance, Harry moved onto a Defense Against the Dark Arts square.

Gilderoy Lockhart appeared on the board and winked at him. Ginny claimed she hadn't had the chance to update the game since her first year. Harry wasn't quite sure he believed her.

"This spell," said Lockhart, "causes both the wizard casting it and whomever he faces to share each other's thoughts."

"That's easy. We've just learned that one. Synchronis Totalis."

Ginny frowned as Harry's figure moved up another level. "Really?" she said.

"Yeah," replied Harry. He told Ginny about the class with Nevins and Ron and Hermione's strange behavior.

Ginny giggled. "They must have been daydreaming about each other before Nevins started the exercise. I'll bet they were scared out of their wits the other would find out how they felt."

Harry rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I didn't see it at the time but I suppose that's what must have happened."

There was what seemed to Ginny an awkward pause in the conversation. She looked up at Harry and tried to think of something to say.

"Y - you said that when the two wizards are sharing each other's thoughts, when one casts a spell, the spell will rebound and then hit both of them?"

"Yeah. We did it in class."

Ginny furrowed her brows in concentration.

"What's the matter?" asked Harry.

"Nothing," said Ginny finally. "It seemed to remind me of something, that's all. But I can't remember what it is now." She shrugged.

Harry moved his piece to the Famous Witches and Wizards square on the next level.

A Dumbledore figure appeared and asked:

"This band was the first to sell one million spells for their record Stirring the Potion."

"That's easy, too," said Harry. "The Weird Sisters."

Harry's figure jumped up on top of the pyramid. A golden snitch appeared in its hand which it waved triumphantly over its head.

"It's a draw now," Harry said to Ginny. He looked up and was surprised to see her beaming from ear to ear.

"I didn't know you liked the Weird Sisters," she said.

"Oh, yeah. Ever since they came to play here. I didn't know anything about wizard music before. But then Ron showed me how to get the spells."

"I've got all their spells!" exclaimed Ginny. "I just got the Stirring the Potion concert spell for my birthday last summer!"

Harry's eyes lit up. With everything that had happened to him over the summer, he had hardly had the chance to think about getting any song spells. "The live concert?" he asked eagerly. "From Transylvania?"

"Yes, it's wicked. Want to hear it?"

"Yeah."

Ginny flicked her wand and the Spellmaster game picked itself up and fell back into the box. She then pointed her wand at the fireplace and muttered a very long sounding spell. Harry supposed it must be something to do with added security. He didn't realize that Ginny was cutting all of the slow songs out of the concert, the songs she always listened to when she was thinking about him.

The Weird Sisters then appeared over the fireplace. The first song in their concert started to boom loudly through the empty common room.

"Want to dance?" asked Ginny.

It was Harry's turn to look awkward. "I - I'm not really very good at dancing."

"Oh, it's easy," said Ginny, full of enthusiasm. She flicked her wand again and all of the furniture in the common room moved back against the walls, leaving a large empty space in the middle.

"They're all fast songs. You just move to the rhythm. Here." She moved closer to Harry and grabbed hold of his shoulders gently. She suddenly felt something toss and turn inside her. Blood seemed to rush from her fingers straight to her face. Not now, she begged to herself. Please don't blush now!

She let go of Harry quickly. "When the music comes on, just move, just do whatever feels natural. It's just like Quidditch." She started to rock her body back and forth to the beat.

Harry tried to move about but he was still a little stiff and awkward. Ginny wanted to tell him to relax, to release himself, that he could be whomever and whatever he wanted in front of her. But she thought this would just make Harry feel worse so she smiled and kept dancing.

***

Down in the Great Hall, Ron twirled Hermione around in a very different sort of dance. He didn't think he was doing too badly but Hermione seemed to be frowning most of the time.

"What's the matter?" he asked, wondering if she was still thinking about the house elves.

"I'm worried about Harry," she said.

"I'm sure he's all right," Ron insisted but Hermione kept frowning.

"I don't know, Ron. What if Voldemort's planning something Dumbledore doesn't know about?"

Ron felt a sudden wave of jealousy rush through him. He'd had his feeling before, of course. There were times he envied Harry's fame, his wealth, his skill on the Quidditch pitch, and the way the whole wizard world was always running around trying to protect him. This was a new kind of jealousy, though: he was jealous of the way Hermione felt about his best friend. It was stupid really, Ron kept trying to tell himself. Hermione liked him, not Harry. She'd told him so, hadn't she? She'd definitely told Harry. And the last thing Harry would want was the two of them to spend all night talking about him. And that was just what Ron finally decided to tell Hermione.

"I know," she replied, still looking a little anxious, "but sometimes he doesn't know what's good for him."

"But it's his choice, isn't it?" said Ron, twirling Hermione around a little faster.

"Yes." Hermione's anxious look started to fade slightly. "I'm sorry, Ron," she said. "I've done it again. I should have been thinking about our dance."

The song came to an end. Hermione and Ron stopped in the middle of the dance floor. Ron saw Binns move to the front of the orchestra again.

"And now," he announced, still wearing his pasted-on smile. "The Ghostly Ghoul Orchestra and Miss Henrietta Handsdowne will present an original piece, in the non-corporeal style, never before heard by ephemerals such as yourselves. I can't stress enough what a rare privilege this is."

"Bloody hell," said Ron. "They're bringing out the musical saws."

Indeed, their worst fears seemed realized. The orchestra was placing their period instruments back into the floor and were bringing musical saws of all shapes and sizes out of the floor. They were the same instruments Ron, Harry, and Hermione had heard at Nearly Headless Nick's deathday party their second year.

There was a mass exodus from the dance floor as the orchestra began playing and the sound of screeching metal filled the hall. Henrietta Handsdowne then broke into an unharmonious melody that reminded Ron of an out-of-tune fire engine. If that wasn't bad enough, Binns decided this would be a duet. He moved closer to Henrietta, his wrinkled face barely reaching her chest, and eyed her longingly from underneath his spectacles. Then he broke into a breathy counter-tenor that reminded Hermione of the sound a vacuum cleaner made when it ran over a spoon. She stuck her fingers in her ears as Binns made a spectacularly unsuccessful attempt at a high note.

"Do you want to go?" she asked Ron, wincing.

"Yeah," Ron agreed. He looked around and saw students and teachers running for the exit.

He and Hermione joined the shuffling crowds waiting to get out. As they got stuck in a queue near the entrance, Ron managed to gather his thoughts together. It hadn't been the most perfect evening, of course: Hermione had gotten a bit hung up on S.P.E.W. and then on Harry. But she'd apologized for that and he hadn't made a complete fool of himself at dancing. He could let the evening end here. She would probably have a good memory of her time. It could be a start. But something chewed away at Ron. He wasn't sure that he wanted the evening to end just yet.

Hermione left the hall slightly ahead of Ron and started to walk up the main stairs in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. She turned around in surprise when Ron took hold of her arm.

"What is it?" she asked.

Ron suddenly seemed very nervous again. "I - I wondered whether you'd like to go for a walk?"

***

Back in Gryffindor Tower, the audience had no misgivings about the music. The common room was scarcely recognizable to anyone who knew it. All four walls had been enchanted to resemble the Creepy Chamber Concert Hall in Transylvania. Wizards, witches, hags, goblins, and vampires (who hung from seats fixed to the ceiling) swayed back and forth to the music of The Weird Sisters' title track.

Harry seemed to have forgotten all his reluctance now as he danced alongside Ginny on the common room floor. The Weird Sisters started to play the chorus again and both he and Ginny belted out the lyrics along with them:

"Oh girl, you stir my potion,

I'm feeling your emotion,

You've got me in your spell,

My broomstick is in motion.

She was just a lonely hag,

I met her on a crag,

We went back to her hovel

And we had a little shag.

Now she hopes I will be true,

But work afar I do,

I bought her a big fireplace,

And got me out some floo.

Oh girl, you stir my potion,

I'm feeling your emotion - "

Harry and Ginny sung and danced together for several more numbers. Finally, after the Weird Sisters' last song ("I don't care if you're not rich / I just want to be your witch"), they stopped playing. The audience clapped hands, hooves, and wings in appreciation. Then the spell came to an end. The images on the walls vanished and the lights in the common room returned to normal. Suddenly there were only two Hogwarts students standing in the room.

Harry and Ginny looked at each other for a few moments. They panted hard and both of their faces were red from the fast dancing. Ginny wasn't sure what to say but she started to feel a reckless confidence come over her. She felt like she and Harry weren't strangers to each other anymore. They had shared something together, something other than a nightmare.

"I - I suppose," Harry started, as if coming out of a dream. "I suppose we'd better get these chairs back in order. I expect people will be coming up again soon."

Ginny looked at her watch. Harry was right. She was surprised how much time had passed. She looked at him and said:

"Actually, I thought perhaps we could play one more game first."

"Of Spellmaster?" Harry wasn't sure he was still interested.

"No." Ginny fixed Harry in the eye. "This is a different game. It's called wizard truth."

***

"Where are we going?" asked Hermione as Ron led her down the corridor near the Divination room. It seemed to her that they had walked for miles and her feet had started to ache in her high-heeled shoes.

Ron looked pale and scared again. "Er, it's a surprise."

"I don't think I've ever been past the Divination room before," said Hermione, looking around. "Are you sure you're not lost?"

"I don't think so. Fred and George told me about this place last year."

Hermione looked doubtful. "Are you sure they weren't pulling your leg?"

"Here it is, I think." Ron reached a small door and pushed it open.

There was a sudden blast of cold air as the door opened onto an outdoor balcony.

"After you," said Ron, gesturing toward the opening with a weak smile.

Hermione grimaced as she walked out onto the balcony and felt a strong, cold late autumn wind toss her about like a ship in a storm.

Ron stepped out after her and grimaced as the wind seemed to blow his head off.

Hermione walked around the side of the small balcony which hugged the outside window of the Astronomy Tower. She gave a sudden gasp as she realized they were not alone. Two seventh-year Ravenclaws were pressed against the wall, still dressed in their dance robes and locked in a kiss, strands of their hair blowing together like yarn spinning on a loom.

"Seems they've found a way to keep warm," remarked Hermione acidly.

Ron walked to the railing overlooking the rest of the castle. With some reluctance, Hermione followed him.

Ron looked at her and smiled. "Isn't it beautiful?" he tried to say but his words seemed to blow out into the night.

"What?" yelled Hermione.

"I said 'isn't it beautiful?'" Ron shouted back.

"Oh, yeah," shouted Hermione. She looked down at the scene below them. It was very beautiful indeed. The castle lay sprawled out like a fortress in a picture postcard. The lights from the lanterns in the halls below them glowed like fairies and the turrets seemed to blend into the velvet star-lit sky. But Hermione found it difficult to appreciate the view. She felt like a jet engine had started right in front of her and was venting its turbines into her face. Icy tears ran down her cheeks and her feet felt about to fall off. When her knees starting knocking together furiously, she decided she had had enough.

"Ron!" she shouted. "Do you mind if we go inside? I'm freezing!"

Without waiting for his reply, she walked back through the door and into the castle.

Ron followed her, looking down at the ground. This was definitely not what he'd imagined.

***

"What's wizard truth?" asked Harry as he and Ginny sat back down at one of the tables.

"It's very simple, actually," said Ginny quickly, before she could talk herself out of it. "Two players - or however many players there are - ask each other questions, anything they want. The players who answer the questions have to tell the truth."

"It sounds like Truth or Dare."

"What's Truth or Dare?"

"It's a game I used to have to play with Dudley and his friend Piers. Each player has to answer the truth or if they choose not to answer, they have to take a dare."

"What's a dare?" Ginny frowned.

"Well, when I played with Dudley, he would usually ask a question like 'What's your favorite color?' and then I would say, well, red, and then Dudley would say 'liar, now you have to take a dare' and then punch me in the stomach."

Ginny winced. "Well, this game is much less painful. If you don't want to answer, you don't have to."

"That's it? Nothing happens if you don't answer?"

"The player who asks the question gains a point," said Ginny innocently.

"That doesn't sound like much fun."

"More fun than getting punched in the stomach."

Harry shrugged. "So the one who asks the most difficult questions wins?"

"Yes. And, of course, you learn a lot about the person who loses."

Harry scratched his head. "How's that?"

Ginny's brown eyes seemed to grow especially large as she looked at Harry and said:

"I thought even Muggles would know that. You learn he has many things to hide."

A sort of strange tension started to come over Harry. He found himself thinking of riding dangerously fast on his broomstick, then still faster when he found he hadn't fallen off, then still faster again.

"Do you want to go first?" Ginny was saying.

"All right," said Harry. "Well, what's your favorite color?"

"You're not going to punch me in the stomach, are you?"

"'Course not."

"That's easy then," replied Ginny. "Green."

There was something about the way Ginny looked at him that made Harry shudder.

"Are you sure you shouldn't've been sorted into Slytherin?" he tried to quip.

"Positive," Ginny replied without smiling.

Harry suddenly felt he had to catch his breath. "Well, your question then."

"Let's see," said Ginny. "What's your favorite flower?"

"Lavender."

Ginny gave a little gasp. "Why lavender?"

"I don't know," said Harry, looking very thoughtful. "I - I suppose I've always liked the smell."

Ginny stared at him blankly. "Oh," she said. "Your question."

"Well, of course," said Harry a little sheepishly. "I - I'll have to ask you something more difficult if I'm going to win."

"Of course." Ginny continued to stare at him almost hypnotically.

"Well." Harry faltered a little. "Wh - what is your most embarrassing moment?" He looked up at Ginny and smiled a little weakly.

Ginny smiled back at him. "You're getting good at this game. I forfeit," she said idly, looking down and playing with a quill someone had left lying on the table. "You win a point. My question."

Harry looked a little affronted but Ginny went on:

"What's yours?"

"Mine?"

"Your most embarrassing moment."

"That's easy," said Harry. "The time I fell off my broomstick during a Quidditch game my third year, when the Dementors came out onto the pitch."

Ginny frowned with concern. "That wasn't embarrassing, Harry. It was frightening. We were all worried."

"I know," said Harry with a half-smile, "but it was embarrassing, too."

"I believe you," said Ginny. She felt another sudden urge to reach out and hold Harry's hand but, once again, she resisted.

"Go on then," she said instead, twirling the quill in her hand. "Your question. Chance to go up two-naught."

Harry looked at Ginny curiously for a moment. It almost seemed like she wanted to lose but he wasn't quite sure why. He started to feel like he was riding on that very fast broomstick again.

"Well, o - of course," he said. "Th - there is one question I could ask you."

"Yes?" Ginny looked very curious indeed.

"Did you send me that Valentine?"

Harry wasn't sure what made him ask the question. The words just seemed to pour out of his mouth of their own accord. But he found that now he had asked, it seemed very important to know the answer.

Ginny suddenly went very pale. "W - what Valentine?"

Now it was Harry's turn to stare at Ginny. "The Valentine," he said. "Lockhart's singing Valentine. My second year. Your first."

But Ginny didn't reply. She just stared back at him.

***

Ron and Hermione walked back together toward Gryffindor Tower. Hermione kept rubbing her shoulders and shivering. Ron was trying to think of things to say to cheer her up but so far he hadn't done very well.

"I - I'm sorry, Hermione," said Ron. "I didn't know it would be so cold." Of course, he had known it was very cold outside but somehow it had never crossed his mind when he imagined what he would feel like standing out there with Hermione.

"It's all right," said Hermione, but she continued to look miserable. "I just want to get back to Gryffindor Tower."

"R - Right, of course. Maybe you'd like some tea, or cocoa when we get there? I - I think I can conjure some up. I'm getting a little better at the spell."

"Not really," Hermione replied. "I think I'll probably just go to bed. I'm a little tired. And we still have classes tomorrow."

Ron hadn't seemed to hear her response. "O - or a big blanket. We could sit by the fire and - "

"Ron." Hermione suddenly stopped walking. She swung around to face him.

Ron stopped walking, too. He felt his heart slide slowly down to his stomach. He had a very bad feeling Hermione was about to tell him something he really didn't want to hear. He wasn't wrong.

"Look," Hermione said softly. "I really enjoyed the dance tonight and I - I really want to thank you. You really tried to give me a good evening. I - I just - " Hermione broke off and ran her fingers through her hair. "It's nothing about you at all," she said. "I just feel really nervous. I feel like w - we explored something tonight I'm just not ready for. Maybe one day I will be but not today."

Ron took a step backwards. He suddenly felt as cold as if an army of ghosts had just walked straight through him. He immediately felt a lump form in his throat and hot tears rush to the edge of his eyes. He balled his fists and forced them down. He would not cry. He would especially not cry right here and now in front of Hermione.

"I - it's OK, Hermione," he managed to say. "I understand."

They continued to walk toward Gryffindor Tower. After a few moments, Hermione looked at Ron anxiously and tried to read the expression on his face through his profile. "Ron, I - I'm really sorry. Are you all right?"

Shut up, Hermione, thought Ron. You're making things worse.

"I'm fine," he replied, managing to keep his voice steady.

They continued to walk on in silence. It was all Fred and George's fault, decided Ron. Everything had gone fine until they had turned up. Ron suddenly realized it was right after they left that Hermione had started talking about S.P.E.W. And everything had gone rotten from then. Of course, it had also been Fred and George who had told him about the Astronomy Tower. Hermione was probably right. They probably had been pulling his leg. They probably knew it was just windy and cold up there all the time. He could see them sitting by the fire in the Gryffindor common room now laughing about it. If he ever saw them again, Ron swore he was going to strangle one twin with each hand.

Gradually, Ron no longer felt he was about to cry. He felt he could at least make it back to Gryffindor Tower to tell Harry the news. And maybe he would feel better then. And maybe a little better the next day, and a little more the day after that.

Ron was knocked out of his thoughts when Hermione suddenly sneezed.

"Bless you," said Ron automatically.

Then Hermione sneezed again, and again.

"I think I'm catching a cold," she said, sounding miserable then added, almost under her breath. "I don't know why you had to take me out to that tower anyway."

Hermione regretted the remark as soon as she finished saying it. She had already made her peace with Ron and now she was pouring salt into the wound. She turned around to apologize but Ron had already stopped walking and was staring at her.

Ron didn't feel like crying at all now. He anger was piqued and he felt his face start to flush. All of the pent up frustration and anger he was reserving for his brothers he started to direct at Hermione.

"You want to know why I wanted to take you out to the tower?" he demanded.

"I - I - not really, Ron. I'm sorry," she stammered.

"Then perhaps you could explain to me why you just made that stupid remark?"

Hermione suddenly didn't feel quite so sorry for Ron anymore. She folded her arms and looked back at him. "If there's something you want to tell me, Ron, you can tell me anywhere. We don't have to sneak up to some deserted tower!"

Ron looked around. He was standing with his back to the far wall of the hallway facing out. He could see they were no longer alone. Students of all years were starting to come up from the main staircase and walk pass them on their way up to Gryffindor Tower. But, strangely, Ron found he no longer cared.

"Actually, Hermione," he retorted. "If you really want to know, I didn't want to tell you anything. There was something I wanted to do!"

"Well, whatever it was you wanted to do, Ron, you can do it anywhere!"

Ron took a step closer to Hermione. "Careful, Hermione," he said, a dangerous look in his eyes. "Just as you said, you might not be ready for it."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Oh, I'm ready." She took a step closer to Ron and raised her chin at him defiantly.

Ron felt his heart start to beat very fast. He was standing very close to Hermione now. He could see her hair falling down around her uncovered shoulders. He could smell the scent of the wildflower potion she had used on her face. The angry flush of her cheeks seemed to draw him even closer. But it was her eyes that finally tipped the balance: Ron could see a kaleidoscope of contradictory feelings surging beneath them: anger, fear, confusion, pity - and love?

And so it seemed the most natural thing in the world for Ron to pull Hermione toward him and kiss her full on the lips.

Hermione did not resist at first. Her lips parted and he felt the tingling touch of her tongue on his and the tight grip of her hands on his back.

Then she suddenly pushed him roughly away.

Ron looked at Hermione as she moved away from him in shock. He could only ever remember having seen her look that way once before, when she had been petrified by the giant basilisk from the Chamber of Secrets their second year. Ron was forced to conclude that this was not a good sign.

"H - Hermione," he stammered. "I - I - I'm really sorry. I - I shouldn't have done that. Y - you already told me you weren't - I mean - oh, gods - I - "

But Hermione didn't reply. Indeed, she didn't seem to realize Ron was there. She began pacing back and forth, just as she had the night before in the common room, clenching and unclenching her fists as she spoke into space.

"I - I - it's OK, Hermione," she said. "Y - y - you can handle this. It's - it's - it's OK."

"H - H - Hermione," Ron squeaked. "Please. I'm really, really sorry. Don't - "

But whatever Ron did not want Hermione to say or do, she did not find out for at that moment, she suddenly turned to Ron, shoved him hard against the wall, grabbed his shoulders and pulled him into a passionate kiss.

Ron's eyes bulged out of their sockets as his senses exploded. He felt his head catch on fire as nerves he never knew he possessed fired into his brain. Hermione's warm breath enveloped his face as he felt her lips move softly over his. She ran her hands all through his hair while her own came down in a tangled mess and tickled the side of his face. Ron wanted to scream. He wasn't sure whether he wanted the sensual agony to stop or never to end. His legs gave way and he and Hermione fell to the stone floor in a mess of intertwined limbs and hair. Finally, Ron grabbed Hermione's shoulders and held on to her tightly. It was as if all of the pent up anger, fear, frustration, laughter, and joy they had shared for so many years was suddenly released in a single act of unrestrained passion.

***

Neville burst into the Gryffindor common room and ran over to the table where Harry and Ginny were sitting. So caught up was Neville in his own disbelief that he did not notice that Harry and Ginny were staring dumbly at each other. They looked up as he ran toward them as if breaking out of a trance.

"Ginny! Harry!" Neville cried breathlessly. "I - I don't know how to tell you. You - you'd better come and have a look."

Neville turned to leave and Ginny got up to follow him quickly. Harry followed a little more reluctantly. Neville led them out of the portrait hole and down the staircase. When they reached the bottom, they could see that a crowd of Gryffindors had gathered and seemed to be looking down at something on the floor. Normally when there was some sort of spectacle, like a fight in the corridors, or a Peeves-induced catastrophe, the students buzzed with noise but now everyone seemed strangely quiet. Harry realized he had not thought all night about the Death Eaters and their intended plan for the evening. He wondered whether they had started an incident, whether -

Harry's brain suddenly went numb as he, Neville, and Ginny pushed through the crowds and he looked down at his two best friends locked in a long, wet, passionate kiss, oblivious to the world around them. His felt like his mind had shut down because it could no longer accept what his eyes were telling him. He recalled Hermione's confused confessions to him that morning and Ron's frightened pleas to keep returning to their dormitory so he wouldn't have to face her. Try as he might, he could not bring himself to fathom what had led them so quickly to the violent act of affection unfolding before him.

Harry thought all of this fairly fast. The next moment he realized that everyone in his house was staring at Ron and Hermione sharing their first kiss.

He stood moved to front of the crowd and turned around to face them, nearly stepping on top of Ron and Hermione who still didn't seem to realize they were not alone.

"This is none of your business!" he shouted at the crowd. "Go away and leave them alone!"

There was no response. Harry watched three second-year boys standing in front with their mouths open.

Without hesitation, he took out his wand and pointed it at his fellow Gryffindors.

"IF YOU DON'T GO NOW, I SWEAR I WILL HEX YOU ALL!"

Neville's eyes bulged. He turned around and led a frightened exodus back up the stairs to the tower. Finally, only Harry was left.

At the sound of Harry shouting, Ron and Hermione finally emerged from each other. All three friends looked at each other. Not one of them said a thing.

After a long moment had passed, Ron and Hermione got to their feet and walked up the staircase to Gryffindor Tower trailed closely by Harry. Many of the other Gryffindor students were still milling about the common room but, without saying a word to each other, Ron and Hermione headed straight up separate staircases like zombies. Harry didn't feel much more together himself and walked up right behind Ron.

Harry got quickly into his four-poster bed, vaguely aware that his roommate now smelled strongly of wildflowers. He glanced across to see Ron lying in bed with a manic grin on his face that belonged on a patient at St. Mungo's.

Harry was physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted. He couldn't believe it was that very day that he and Hermione had crouched inside the Shrieking Shack listening to the Malfoys. Whatever it was that the Death Eaters were planning had either fallen through or taken place without their knowledge. Harry thought back on the mental anguish of sending Hermione and Ron to the dance while he stayed alone in the common room, of his own dance with Ginny and the strange games they had played, and then finally the kiss his friends had shared. He soon found his conscious thoughts start to unravel in confusion and he fell into a deep sleep.

He did not even wake up when his scar began to ache.

***

Ginny started to giggle, softly at first but then so loudly her body shook and she had to put her hand over her mouth to stop herself from waking up her roommates. So many emotions seemed to flood through Ginny's head as she sat lying in bed that she wouldn't have surprised herself if she'd laughed or cried. Harry had forgotten to say good night to her, of course, but such were the bizarre circumstances of the evening that this failed to conjure any feelings of self-pity on Ginny's part. Harry had also forgotten about their game of wizard truth, his last question and Ginny's inability to do anything but stare at him like a troll. Ginny decided this was fortunate.

But she tossed and turned well into the night, wondering what had compelled Harry to ask her. Not to mention how she had worked up the nerve to ask him to play wizard truth in the first place. Dancing was intoxicating to Ginny; dancing with Harry had been like drinking a rare wine. But sobered by the passage of time, Ginny now felt on the one hand terrified by what she had done, but on the other pleased that she had done it already.

Divination had never been Ginny's favorite subject but she had to admit that fate seemed to have smiled on her that night. All the misunderstandings, false starts, and un-asked questions of the past weeks had somehow led her to Harry. She let her thoughts dwell on the moments they had shared like they were the sweetest memories of her life. Being with Harry seemed so natural. Ginny was more certain than ever that they belonged together, though she still doubted whether he saw things the same way.

Ginny still clung to the memories of her evening as she finally fell asleep.

And then dreamed.

In this dream, Harry Potter had invited her to the ball. She looked at herself in the mirror as she enchanted her hair into longer and richer curls. She straightened the straps of her long red dress, and moved around to watch the light from the lanterns in her room reflect off the yellow stars running down the side. Ginny knew she looked beautiful. She smiled warmly to herself, bringing a rosy blush to her face as she imagined Harry's face when he saw her.

She took a deep breath, opened the outside door to her room, and then walked out to the top of the staircase. She looked down to the common room to see Harry standing there waiting for her, dressed in maroon and gold dress robes. He smiled as she walked down but Ginny's own smile faded.

For she could see that Harry was not alone. To his right, dressed in green and white dress robes, his black hair swept back, stood Tom Riddle.

"Good evening, Ginny," Tom said smoothly. "Harry is here to take you to the ball, but I'm afraid we have a little problem. You see, I rather I wanted you for myself."

Ginny gasped and took a step backward.

"What's the matter, Ginny?" said Tom, his face curling up in a sneer. "Did you forget about me? Harry will never tell you he loves you, you know. You'd better go with me instead."

Harry turned to Tom, his face now full of anger. "You can't have her, Riddle!" he exclaimed, as if the would-be Dark Lord was a common school rival. "She's mine!"

Tom turned to face Harry. "Is that so?" he asked coolly. "Well, perhaps we should duel for her." Tom reached into his breast pocket and drew out his wand.

"Why not." Harry's jaw hardened as he took out his own wand and turned toward Tom.

"No, Harry!" Ginny suddenly found her voice. "I don't want him! I only want to go to the dance with you! Put the wand away! Let's go now, before it's too late!"

Harry didn't seem to hear her at all. He kept staring at Tom.

"You always think you're so much better than everyone else, Riddle," he hissed. "Just because you're a prefect. But this time you've gone too far! She's mine and you can't have her!"

"Of course he can't!" cried Ginny. "Listen to me, Harry! He's not just a prefect. He's the Dark Lord! He's - he's You-Know-Who!" She screwed up her courage. "He's Voldemort!"

But Harry seemed completely closed to the world around him. "Shall we start then?" he asked Tom.

"By all means." Tom's eyes narrowed menacingly.

Tom and Harry walked toward each other and bowed, then pointed their wands at each other.

Even in her confused dreamlike mind, Ginny could see that while the setting was different, she had watched this duel a hundred times before.

Tom was first, of course.

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Expelliarmus!"

The wand lights met in the center. Ginny thought for a moment that Harry might have grown stronger this time but the light from Tom's wand started to eat up Harry's and move slowly toward him. She watched the veins bulge in Harry's neck again. Soon his face was covered in sweat. She could see his hands shaking as he tried with all his strength to hold the wand steady.

Tom, on the other hand, seemed to hold his wand and sustain the spell with no effort at all. He coolly turned to Ginny and said:

"I'm afraid he hasn't heard you, Ginny. But you can still help him. Just come down here and stand between us."

Ginny took a step forward but then hesitated. She could feel the hot, harsh glare of the wand connection again. She knew that its touch would be fatal.

"What's the matter, Ginny?" asked Tom. "I thought you loved him. Isn't that what you told the mudblood girl? Surely such love is worth dying for? Surely the good, great Harry Potter deserves a noble sacrifice?"

Ginny tried to move forward but her legs would not cooperate. She watched in horror as the light from Tom's spell moved closer and closer to Harry.

"Ginny!" cried Harry. "You've got to help me!"

"Harry!" Ginny cried with frustration as her body refused to move. She watched, helpless as the light from Tom's wand hit Harry on the chest. He screamed and fell to the floor of the common room, dead.

Tom calmly tucked his wand back into his breast pocket, turned toward Ginny, and smiled. "Now I'm going to take you to the dance, Ginny. There'll be no Harry to get in our way." He started to walk up the stairs.

"Get away from me!" Ginny cried.

But Tom kept advancing toward her. Ginny could see the cold, heartless glint in his eyes, the self-assured smile on his lips. She stepped backward but tripped over the top step and fell. She watched in horror as he moved on top of her. She could smell his rancid breath.

It was just like a snake's.

Ginny screamed.

And woke up, panting and gasping for air. The sheets were soaking again. Ginny stared up at the top of her four-poster bed in horror.

The nightmares were back.

***
Voldemort walked to the edge of the forest and cautiously peered out at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The potion he had brewed now lay abandoned in the forest. It had done its work. So had his Death Eaters. He knew he was taking a small risk by coming here now. He could hear a frightened dog barking in the gamekeeper's cottage, but apart from that there was no other sound. The inhabitants of the castle were sleeping peacefully in their beds, just as falsely assured of their safety as the residents of the Burrow that summer. Perhaps they knew nothing of his plan or perhaps, like Dumbledore and Black, they thought that whatever they had done had stopped him.

Voldemort's thin lips broke into a smile as he thought of how wrong they were. His plan had worked perfectly. He had visited Ginny's mind, not while she was sleeping in her home, but while she was here, at Hogwarts, so near to Harry. And that meant only one thing. Dumbledore had failed. The castle was no longer closed to the Dark Lord.

And Ginny had been so easy to control again. She had not dared to save Harry even when he had taunted her. Voldemort felt certain she would not interfere at the end.

Voldemort watched the turrets of the castle tower rising high in the sky above him. He thought back with nostalgia on his days at the school, how he had begun his training, how his teachers had praised him and showered him with awards. You'll be a great wizard one day, Tom Riddle, they had said. Voldemort wondered if they realized how true their words would prove.

The castle was home to mudbloods and Muggle-lovers now, of course, but that would all change very soon. Voldemort mused that perhaps it had been all for the best that neither of his first two attempts on Harry Potter's life had succeeded. For while Harry would be dead if they had, Voldemort would still have yet to gain full power. But now, he would not only kill Harry right in the castle where everyone thought he was so safe; he would take Hogwarts and make it the center of a new stronger, purer wizarding world where Voldemort would reign as the most feared wizard of all time.

Of course, Voldemort knew he would continue to be patient. There were many careful details still to be arranged. But while the timing was still in question, there seemed little doubt he would succeed. The first quiet battle of the silent siege had been won.