Harry Potter and the Silent Siege

Chapter 14

The Duel

Harry, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron spun around to see Malfoy walking toward them from the opposite side of the room, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, who were smirking at the no doubt surprised expressions on the faces of the four Gryffindors.

Malfoy took out his wand and shouted:

"Illuminare."

With a loud creaking sound that reminded Harry of a hundred trunks being dragged on the stone floor, the four portraits of the Hogwarts founders on the one side and the four banners on the other swung around revealing eight large lanterns resting on what Harry reasoned were either brass or gold holders, each fashioned into the heads of snakes. It reminded Harry a great deal of the Chamber of Secrets, except that these snakes had their mouths closed rather than their fangs opened wide. Their heads were lowered revealing on each a set of ruby eyes that glistened brightly as though their owners were patiently contemplating the best moment to strike. As soon as the heads were in position, the flames on each of the lanterns sprung into life, blazing the room in bright light.

The eyes of the four Gryffindors darted around the walls for a moment, but then turned back quickly to Malfoy. Ron drew out his wand first, followed by Harry, then Ginny, and then Hermione.

"You seem to know your way around this place, Malfoy," said Ron.

"I think you'll find there are quite a number of things they don't teach you in Gryffindor."

"You're quite right," Ron retorted. "We do without the Death Eater training."

Malfoy smiled. "Who said anything about Death Eaters?"

Ginny stepped forward. "This place was full of Death Eater things last night!"

"Is that so?" Malfoy cooed in an uncanny impression of his father. "Perhaps some of my fellow Slytherins were having fun before their O.W.Ls. We do use this room from time to time, you know."

"They weren't students' things," said Ginny defiantly. "There have been real Death Eaters down here and you know it. And what about the crystal, and the cauldron? What are those for?"

Harry, Hermione, and Ron looked at Ginny in surprise.

Malfoy did not respond right away. He took a step closer to where the others were standing, looking at Ginny with curiosity. His attention was momentarily distracted when Ron moved Hermione closer to him and stuck his wand further out.

"You needn't worry, Weasley," Malfoy said, turning his head to look at him as if distracted by an annoying insect. "I have no interest in your mudblood girlfriend. Your sister, on the other hand, is another question." He turned his head to look back at Ginny, allowing his eyes to wander generously over her body. He smiled slowly. "Yes, I wouldn't mind having a go with her. Nothing very serious, of course, just enough to spoil her for Potter."

Hermione looked anxiously at Ginny, wondering how she would react to Malfoy's mention of her crush, but Ginny, who had never been shy around Malfoy, took a large step forward so that she was inches away from Malfoy's face. He did not retreat.

"You might try," she hissed, flecks of her spittle showering Malfoy's face, "only I hope you don't mind. I might have to vomit every time I look in your face."

Malfoy flinched very slightly but it was enough to give Ginny satisfaction. Her pleasure was short-lived, however, as Ron half-pushed, half-steered her to one side and drew himself up to face Malfoy, his face red in anger.

"You say anything like that to my sister again, Malfoy, and you'll be crawling back home to your father like a flubberworm!"

Malfoy's smile returned. "It must be that you've learned a few spells since we last met, Weasley. Or have you lost the use of your fist? I'll tell you what," he drawled on, before Ron could say anything in reply. "I'll give you a chance to show everyone here what you can do. Let's face it, Weasley, we've been up each other's arses since the start of the year. Why not relieve the tension once and for all? How about a little duel?"

"I'm his second," declared Hermione, before Ron could open his mouth to reply.

"And I'm his third," replied Ginny defiantly.

Crabbe and Goyle stumbled forward and grunted something which the others understood as their vague decision to be Malfoy's second and third in the duels.

"Good then." Malfoy walked to the other side of the round table. "Shall we begin? You should consider yourself in good company. I believe that Slytherin and Gryffindor themselves once used - "

Malfoy was cut off when Harry stepped forward and said.

"I'm sorry, Malfoy, but I can't let you go through with your duel with Ron. Ginny may be his sister but it's my honor you've just attacked. Ron can be my second."

Ginny looked up at Harry in surprise. She realized for the first time that he had not said a word since Malfoy had first entered the room. She could see that, on some level, his anger was real. His cheeks were flushed and furious beads of sweats had collected on his forehead near his scar, but there was something in his tone of voice that sounded not altogether genuine.

Malfoy might have noticed it, too, because his face screwed up as he eyed Harry shrewdly. Ron quickly stepped forward to object but Harry put his hand out and he and Ron exchanged a glance that was at once both fleeting and significant, the practiced art of years of close friendship. Ron nodded, almost imperceptibly, and stepped back.

Malfoy looked even more suspicious at this and hesitated a little but then, with a quick glance at Crabbe and Goyle, who were looking at him expectantly, said:

"All right then, Potter. I suppose that sort of thing means a lot to you Gryffindors."

Harry stepped forward. "You have no idea," he replied, through teeth Ginny thought were not clenched in the most completely believable of ways.

Malfoy smiled again and moved to the opposite side of the table, holding his wand out in front of him. Harry moved to stand across from him. Ron moved to one side of Harry and Hermione and Ginny crossed to the other. Crabbe and Goyle left a much larger gap between themselves and Malfoy, who took little notice of them. He looked up at Harry and drawled with a slightly ironic smirk:

"I suppose you Gryffindors also like to follow all the formalities, bowing and so forth?"

"Actually," replied Harry, "I usually like to get things out of the way. Synchronis Totalis!"

Malfoy's smile faded almost as quickly as the beam from Harry's wand flew across the table. He had no chance to move as the curse hit him just below his right shoulder before traveling back to Harry.

Malfoy's expression contorted in an expression of surprise and horror. Before he could bring himself to retaliate, however, Harry pointed his wand at his own chest and said:

"Levitatus!"

The beam from Harry's wand hit him before bouncing back to Malfoy through the shared link of their Synchronis Totalis spell. Both Gryffindor and Slytherin vaulted high into the tall-ceilinged room. Harry quickly found that his weeks of painful practice with Nevins had paid off: once he reached the apex of his flight, he was able to maintain his balance. His arms spread out like the wings of a phoenix and his eyes trained on the ground like a hawk's, Harry readied himself for Malfoy's next retaliation. But it was soon clear that without his Nimbus 2001, Malfoy was every bit the eleven-year old boy who had run screaming in horror from a feeding Voldemort, and that was while he was still rising through the air. On his fall, Malfoy's panicked cries echoed off the walls of the room like a child's rubber ball. This soon proved far too much for Crabbe and Goyle, who, faced with the prospect of a rapidly descending Malfoy, turned heel and ran as fast as they could toward the far end of the room. Harry landed with a slight misstep so that, for a moment, Hermione feared he might twist his ankle, but he quickly righted himself without falling and pointed his wand at Malfoy.

Malfoy himself was far less fortunate. He tried to roll his fall into a tumble but still fell hard on his right hip, the way Harry had done when he had first practiced the charm. He came quickly out of the tumble, robes askew but wand outstretched. Ignoring the pain in his side, Malfoy opened his mouth to curse Harry but then hesitated as he felt the link between them, a link he was desperately trying to block as he fought Harry. It was during this moment of hesitation that Harry seized his chance.

"Serpensortia."

Ginny's eyes widened as a thick, long black snake wound its way out of Harry's wand like a jack-in-the-box and slithered angrily across the table toward Malfoy. At the same time, to Malfoy's own astonishment, an identical snake uncurled its way from Malfoy's own wand and headed toward Harry. Harry stuck out his left hand, however, and hissed a stream of Parseltongue at the on-rushing snake. It made a hard turn and followed its companion back across the table to Malfoy. Harry continued to hiss at the snakes who quickened their pace, mouths outstretched, flecks of venom spraying the top of the table. Malfoy stepped backward, his wand still outstretched, beads of sweat pooling in his slicked back hair.

With a nauseating plop, the magical snakes fell effortlessly off the table and continued to pursue Malfoy from the floor. Malfoy's face contorted in what looked like a suppressed shriek. He backed up on his feet for a moment. Then when it became clear he was being out-run, he turned around and belted after his erstwhile second and third.

Ginny, Hermione, and Ron turned around to look at Harry. Hermione looked impressed, Ron seemed afraid, and Ginny wore an expression of something like rapture.

"Harry, how did you - that was - " Ron began but quickly stopped as Harry waved his hands like a disgruntled conductor.

"We have to get out of here now," said Harry and without waiting for the others to respond, turned and charged back up the passageway toward the kitchens.

"Harry, wait!" cried Hermione when she found herself blocked by Ron who was trying unsuccessfully to contort his lanky frame so that it would fit back through the opening. "What's - "

"I have to find somewhere to think clearly," Harry shouted back, already halfway up the corridor. "Fast, before I lose the link!"

Hermione, Ginny, and Ron finally caught up to Harry as he belted up the narrow pathway through the rows of food in the pantry. Harry nearly ran over Dobby, who was standing in the middle of the room, looking up at him with an apprehensive expression on his face.

"Harry Potter, sir!" he exclaimed, clasping his hands together. "So wonderful to see you safe, sir! Dobby heard shouting, sir; there are people in the original room, sir; Harry - "

Dobby was abruptly stopped in the middle of what would surely have been a much longer explanation when Ron grabbed his apron, lifted him in the air, and clasped a hand over his mouth. He thought of letting the house-elf down as they reached the kitchen, but Dobby's muffled cries suggested that to have done so would have been premature, so Ron continued to carry him along to ensure they would not have to break their stride.

"I'm really sorry, Dobby," said Hermione, panting alongside Ron and as far as Harry was concerned creating just as much distraction as the house-elf himself. "Harry just has to think, now. We're really very grateful to you."

Ron kept his hand clamped firmly down on Dobby's mouth as the house-elf tried to launch into what sounded like another barrage of questions, his eyes bulging like two enormous dinner plates.

"I - I'll be in touch about the meeting," Hermione continued. "I read some new books. We can just - "

They had reached the kitchen door now. Harry quickly opened it and darted out into the corridor. He looked on the point of closing it right away when Ron dropped Dobby and slid through followed quickly by Hermione, who shot a quick glance back to Dobby who started to speak just as the door was closing in his face. Ginny tucked her lithe body through the smallest of openings to follow them and then the slamming of the large kitchen door preceded an almost startling silence.

Harry quickly pressed his fingers to his temples as the others gathered around him to listen.

"It's like a dream," he said panting. "The link. Like waking up from a dream. I have to concentrate before I forget it all."

For a moment, it seemed as if Harry had lost his memory of the link with Malfoy altogether. But then words began to come out of his mouth in staccato fashion, like a radio station fading in and out with the turn of a tuning dial.

"Ginny was right."

Hermione shot a quick glance at Ginny who did not return her stare. Instead, she continued to watch Harry intently, though there was now a slight flush to her cheeks and the ghost of a smile on her face.

Harry's eyes widened as another piece of information began to coalesce in his head.

"Death Eaters," he said, his mouth rounding in alarm even as he spoke the words. "They were there, in that room. Marcus Flint. Lucius Malfoy. And someone - someone else - I can't - " He screwed up his face and clenched his fist.

"It's OK, Harry," said Hermione. "Just keep calm and concentrate."

"I am concentrating!"

Hermione put her hands up in a gesture of peace.

"They were here the night of the Guy Fawkes ball. Malfoy...." Harry stopped. His brow creased in concentration again.

"Malfoy was there, too?" Ron asked tentatively.

Harry shook his head, his eyes now squeezed shut. "Malfoy let them in. He cleared the way, made sure no one was around. There's another entrance, not through the kitchens. That's how Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle got in today."

"But what about - " Ron began.

"Malfoy was here today, again, this morning," Harry went on breathlessly. "Very early. He took all the Death Eater things out. Clothes, and - and some kind of light, some kind of glowing crystal. He knew - " Harry's eyes snapped open suddenly. "He knew Ginny was here."

"But how?" asked Ginny.

"Someone told him. Someone knew."

"That fast?" asked Ron. "But who?"

"I don't know," said Harry, his forehead red with from the strain of concentrating on the pastiche of half-formed thoughts Malfoy had let through their link before he could block them.

"What were they doing down there, Harry?" asked Hermione. "Are they planning something?"

"I - don't," Harry began. "It's just - " He suddenly released his fingers and sighed, his pallor returning quickly to normal. "It's all gone. That's all I could get."

"Nothing more?" asked Ron rhetorically.

"Well, there was one other thing." Harry allowed himself a half-smile. "Malfoy's terrified of snakes."

"Harry," said Hermione after a moment's silence.

Harry turned to her, seeming to know what she was about to say. "I'll owl Dumbledore and Sirius right away." Then he added, "we'd better go."

The others said nothing but followed without question, still a little uncertain of what to make of the display they had just witnessed. It was not that any of them would have questioned when asked whether their friend was destined to become a great wizard, something more than a boy grown-up from a small baby who had thwarted the most powerful dark lord in history by accident rather than his own design. But believing this and seeing him dispose of Malfoy like a truculent schoolboy rather than a wizard equal were two different things. Harry seemed to sense this also and continued to exude a kind of quiet authority as they walked back up the stairs.

The four Gryffindors had just reached the top of the stairs and were about to move once again into the bustle of other students and teachers, now just leaving what should have been Harry, Hermione, and Ron's afternoon potions class, when Ron felt someone take hold of his arm and pull him gently back.

It was Hermione.

"What?" he asked.

"Thank you," she said simply.

"For what?" Ron's brow creased.

"The duel with Malfoy should have been yours. But you knew Harry had a plan, and you held your anger long enough to trust him. And now we know much more."

***

Draco Malfoy tried to coax some color into his cheeks as he turned to face his father. It had been two days since his ill-fated duel with Potter and his right shoulder and hip still throbbed. Far worse, he had been every bit as impressed by Potter's abilities as his friends and wondered how he had been able to develop some of his skills from their regular defense classes. He had not told anyone about the duel, of course, and had threatened Crabbe and Goyle within an inch of their lives to silence. He did not think even they, however, had been bright enough to understand how far Potter had penetrated into his mind. Draco was fairly sure he had not been able to block his thoughts completely during his link with Potter and he prayed that the knowledge he had leaked would not be enough to upset their plans. Whatever the case, he had no intention of telling a soul.

Lucius Malfoy's beady eyes scrutinized Crabbe and Goyle as they moved the cauldron housing the crystal awkwardly back into position at the center of the table in the secret room. Every now and then they shifted back to Draco, who tried to feign an expression of polite indifference. Once the cauldron was in position, however, Lucius waved a nervous-looking Crabbe and Goyle away with a flick of his hand and turned back to look at his son.

"Are you quite well?" he demanded.

"Perfectly," replied Draco, trying, unsuccessfully, he thought, to match Lucius' gaze. He should have known his father would not be so easy to deceive.

"Why do you persist in massaging your shoulder? Surely the simple act of removing the items from this room did not cause you any lasting injury?"

"O - of course not, father. It is merely a habit I have picked up lately."

Lucius continued to eye his son. "I suggest you un-learn this habit. It would not do to manifest a poor case of nerves when we are so near the moment toward which we have worked for so long."

"And what moment is that, father?"

The healthy pallor Draco had wished for a few moments before quickly found its way to his cheeks in full force. For more than merely injuring his body and wounding his pride, Harry Potter's comprehensive victory in their duel two days before had broke open a great many of Draco's existing doubts like a stone stirring up dirt to the surface of a shallow pond. He shot a quick glance behind his father to see that Crabbe and Goyle had now left the room. He was not sure when he would have the opportunity to talk to his father again and with an ability borne of years of Slytherin training, Draco recognized the opportunity now presented him. He watched as his father's complexion grew twisted and blotchy but he forced himself to hold the accusatory stare with which he had first delivered his question.

"The moment in which we will finally rid ourselves of all these mudbloods and half-breeds, the moment...." Lucius stopped suddenly. "You know perfectly well what it is we are working for," he hissed. "If this is an another attempt to question - "

"I want nothing more to rid this school and our world of all these foul, sick creatures, as you taught me, father," Draco replied as Lucius seemed to simmer in a stew of barely controlled rage. "My self-restraint is tried every day I have to pretend to take notice in that oaf-brained Hagrid's lessons or whenever I smell Hermione Granger coming around a corridor hand in hand with that pathetic Muggle loving Weasley. It's all I can do to keep the sick from coming up out of my stomach. But I wonder, are we really planning to rid the school of these parasites, or are we just setting up for a little wand duel between two half-bloods who have no business being waited on by pureblood wizards?"

Lucius' hand shot out but it was deftly blocked by Draco's good arm. Father and son stared at each other for a moment with expressions of deepest loathing but then Draco forced his face to soften slightly.

"Think about it, father," he whispered urgently. "You've gone from being one of the most powerful wizards in a generation to the lackey of Muggle-fathered has-been. Is that what you really want?"

"You - foolish - child," hissed Lucius, struggling to free his hand. "What do you think - "

"Good afternoon," cooed a low voice. "I'm so sorry to be interrupting such an - interesting little family conversation."

Both Lucius and Draco went completely white, and dropped their arms, their struggle immediately forgotten.

"Do you always sneak around like that?" spat Lucius, after a moment's pause.

"Usually," Snape replied nonchalantly. "It's very educational."

Lucius' eyes darted back and forth from Draco to Snape, rage and fear dancing over his features. He finally settled his gaze on Snape.

"If it's gold you're after, Snape, you can rest assured," he murmured in a breathy voice, his eyes now moving around the room restlessly to make sure none of the other Death Eaters had returned.

"You can relax yourself, Malfoy," replied Snape. "If it was gold I was after, I would now have wealth well beyond your most fanciful dreams. No, you forget, I am well accustomed to the self-righteous tantrums of adolescent children. I will forgive young Mr. Malfoy his indulgence this once."

Snape's eyes darted quickly to Draco who wanted to feel relieved at his close escape. But there was something in the acting headmaster's expression that caught him slightly off guard. There seemed almost a kind of quiet hunger underneath his usually stoic eyes. Snape suddenly seemed strangely different from the Potions Master who had taught him for the last five years. Of course, a lot had changed since Draco had discovered that far from having forsaken his years as a Death Eater, Snape was still the Dark Lord's most faithful servant and, as acting headmaster, the key to Voldemort's elaborate plans to take control of Hogwarts and rid the world of Potter and the mudbloods once and for all. Yet something still made Draco feel uneasy. He looked over at his father and was surprised to see that Lucius was also looking quizzically at Snape.

"I wonder sometimes, you know, Snape," Lucius said thoughtfully, "if the Dark Lord's trust in you is well placed."

Snape turned to Lucius. "Fortunately for us all, he does not have you to answer for."

Lucius' eyes narrowed shrewdly. "Fortunately for you, yes. I must confess you have my admiration," he said smoothly. "It must be difficult, so many years in this school, under the Muggle-loving leadership of Albus Dumbledore, surrounded by mudbloods."

Snape eyed Lucius in return. "It is not always easy, I can assure you that. I do, however, possess somewhat greater powers of self-control than, say, for instance, your son. Now if neither of you mind," he swiftly added, before Lucius could respond, "the Dark Lord has no intention of postponing his plans for this evening and he will be extremely displeased if things go awry again."

Draco and Lucius exchanged nervous glances despite themselves. There was no need for Snape to elaborate further. All of the Death Eaters were aware of the consequences of the Dark Lord's displeasure.

Without another word, Snape turned around and marched out of the room, his long black cloak trailing behind him.

***

It was not for the first time that Harry found himself considerably distracted en route to a tutorial with Professor Nevins. Nonetheless, it seemed a very long time ago indeed that he had been worried whether Ginny Weasley would confess her crush to him in front of the whole school. The revelation that Death Eaters were meeting in the basement of the castle that was supposedly the only place where he remained safe was disconcerting to say the least. And it had not made him feel one bit better that Dumbledore and Sirius had both quickly returned his owls once again thanking him for the information, but ensuring him that they had everything well under control. Harry's disbelief at the continued laconic attitudes of his godfather and headmaster had taken him well past the point of continuing to fully trust them. Would they merely urge him to remain calm and relaxed if Voldemort strode into the castle and threatened him with an Avada Kedavra curse? He no longer had the energy to continue maintaining their side in his now frequent discussions about the matters with Ron and Hermione. But perhaps the most exasperating thing of all was that it still seemed there was little they could do in any case. He, Ron, and Hermione had tried to return to the secret room the day after they had first visited only to find that the door from the pantry had been magically sealed and nothing any of them or any of the house elves had done had worked to open it. Malfoy gave them a wide berth whenever they met in the corridors and Harry doubted that the same curse would work again. It infuriated him to no end that Malfoy was obviously being told more by his Death Eater mentors than either Sirius or Dumbledore would tell him.

Harry tried his best to force his fear and resentment down as he approached the door to Nevins' office. One of the few courses of action he could reasonably take was to continue to hone his Defense Against the Dark Arts skills in case he was attacked. Yet once he turned his attention fully to his tutorial, other nagging questions, temporarily repressed, surge to the forefront of Harry's consciousness. What was it Nevins was hiding about his past? And what did it have to do with Harry's father? After a cowering Nevins had first told him to get out of his office several weeks before, Harry had wondered whether he would ever be invited back for extra Defense lessons again. But Nevins' arrogant nonchalance had returned by the time of their next regular Defense class and he had quickly sought Harry out and confirmed with him the time of their next private meeting, mentioning absolutely nothing, however, about their previous session. They had met several more times privately since then. Nevins had set up a number of different obstacles both inside his office and outside on the field next to the Quidditch pitch. He had not, however, attempted to re-introduce any Boggarts into Harry's training.

It was also with a pang of disappointment that Harry realized that Professor Nevins no longer seemed interested in developing a relationship of close mentor and confidante with Harry. Whatever had happened that day when Harry had failed to stop the Boggart had taken care of that. He wouldn't have cared much what Nevins had thought of him a few weeks before, but with his increasing doubt of Dumbledore and even Sirius, Harry very much needed someone in whom he could confide, someone who knew more than just his friends, someone who could reassure him in a much more believable way than Dumbledore and Sirius had done. But at the very time when he so needed that person, Nevins had chosen to withdraw himself.

It was at this point in his thoughts that Harry realized he had reached the door to Nevins' office. He knocked.

"Come in, Harry," said Nevins from the inside.

What if I wasn't Harry, Harry found himself thinking, but forced himself to brush this thought aside as one more resentment against the world, and walked in to find Professor Nevins sitting at his desk. He opened his mouth to say hello but stopped in surprise as Nevins put his finger to his lips. He pointed slowly to the ceiling.

Harry looked up and was surprised to see Peeves the Poltergeist dangling from the top of the light fixture above the room, his arms full of Dungbombs. On seeing Harry, Peeves broke into a cackling cry of disappointment.

"Oh, Professor, sir," Peeves whined. "Why couldn't you let Peeves have his little joke on wee Potter, sir. Peeves only wanted to throw a few Dungbombs at him, sir. Sir needn't have said anything."

"I'm very sorry, Peeves," said Nevins, throwing Harry a wink. "But I think Harry might have outsmarted you in any case."

"Sir does not think Peeves clever then?" Peeves put his hands on his hips indignantly. "Sir would be wrong to think Peeves will forgive him for that. Peeves only listens to Dumbledore, sir. He does not think other teachers above his jokes."

"Is that so?" asked Nevins, raising his eyebrow.

In response, Peeves took hold of a Dungbomb and began to throw it at Nevins but the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was much faster. In a quick flash, he drew out his wand, aimed it Peeves, and shouted:

"Spiritem Exhume."

Peeves' eyes widened in surprise as the light from Nevins' wand enveloped him. He seemed to twinkle for a moment, and then light and ghost zoomed into the far corner of the room and out through a crack in the ceiling.

Nevins calmly pocketed his wand and turned to Harry.

"And now, Harry, I think you might have guessed the topic of today's lesson. We will be learning how to exorcise ghosts. You might be interested to know that right after I left Hogwarts I did a short stint in the Improper Use of Magic office, before I finally went on to university, and received a post here. I was in charge of getting rid of ghosts that had lingered in old Muggle houses. You'd be surprised how attached they become to these buildings, especially when no one has lived in them for a time. I even had to dress up as a Muggle priest so the owners wouldn't get suspicious."

Nevins said all of this very quickly, once or twice putting on a smile that Harry couldn't help but think seemed false and extremely out of character.

"So, er," Harry began, a little nervously. "It's - it's an important part of learning Defense Against the Dark Arts, this exorcism charm?"

"Oh, yes," replied Nevins, with what Harry thought sounded like a false tone of joviality. "It's no good trying to fight off several Death Eaters single-handedly with someone like Peeves having a go at you at the same time. You have to get rid of the ghost first."

And so for the remainder of the period, Harry practiced exorcism. Nevins used all manner of strange incantations to lure all kinds of ghosts, many of whom Harry was surprised to find he had never met in his five and a half years in the castle, and most of which seemed decidedly unsavory. The curse didn't seem particularly complex to Harry and as far as he was concerned, he had pretty well mastered it after the first three or four exorcisms, but Nevins insisted on summoning enough ghosts to take up the whole period. Nevins seemed to delight in finding ways to attract the ghosts, allow them to taunt him, and then leave Harry to exorcise them from the office. Nevins' dry wit was in full form in his responses to the taunting spirits and after some time, both he and Harry found it difficult to maintain a completely straight face. Yet Harry still couldn't help but feel more uneasy than relieved. There was an almost manic hysteria to both Nevins' laughter and his own.

Harry found himself grateful when the lesson finally came to an end with the banishment of the ghost of a hag who tried to tempt unsuspecting students with fungus-covered sweets. This was apparently in revenge for two girls who had been mean to her in Hogsmeade almost two hundred years ago and whom she had followed back to the school only to be accidentally killed when a portcullis that used to hang above the main gate of the school slammed a little too hard on her head. Harry gathered up his bags and turned to leave, giving what he hoped was a convincing display of cheer to Nevins. He was halfway to the door and already wondering what Hermione and Ron were going to think when he told them about Nevins' strange behavior, when the Defense teacher spoke again, almost inaudibly and without a trace of the joviality or wit that had colored his manner only moments before:

"The Boggart was your father this time. It could just as easily have been your mother, I suppose."

Harry froze. He wanted to turn around and look at Nevins but his feet seemed to have turned to soft clay. He found himself perfectly sure that if he tried to move them, he would dissolve to the floor. Eventually, he managed to turn just his head and noticed that Nevins' face was suddenly colorless. He was staring at a point on the wall just past Harry. Every now and then in the few painful silent moments that followed, his eyes would dart furtively at the Boy Who Lived, but then settle back to the wall, to the ground, to anywhere else but at Harry's eyes.

"Sit down, Harry," he finally croaked, gesturing weakly to the chair in front of his desk.

Harry tried to say something again but all he could manage was a weak nod. He staggered to the chair and immediately collapsed down into it. He felt something shift very uncomfortably in his abdomen.

"I'm sorry I shouted at you that day, Harry," Nevins managed in a hoarse whisper. "You didn't deserve it. It wasn't your fault at all. It was mine."

"Perhaps you should drink a glass of water, sir," Harry found himself saying. "You look - "

"You deserve an explanation, Harry," Nevins pressed on, as if Harry had said nothing. "About myself, your parents, and the night they were killed."

Every hair on Harry's body stood up straight as though he had received an electric shock. He stared dumbly at Nevins for a moment, not quite able to believe what he was hearing. Was Professor Nevins telling him that he had been involved in his parents' death? How was that possible? What had he done? Whatever it was, Harry was fairly sure from Nevins' behavior that it was not something good. Was his Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, with whom Harry had spent months in private meetings, improving his training, in whom Harry had wished to find a mentor and a friend earlier that afternoon, no better than Wormtail, who had betrayed his parents to the Dark Lord? Was he about to tell Harry that he was a Death Eater? Harry's mind spun far ahead of his reason as he thought of how he would escape from Nevins' office on the news. Just as an irrational plan was crystallizing in his mind, Nevins drew a deep breath, cleared his throat, and spoke again in a rush as though afraid that if he stopped in mid-stream he would never be able to finish.

"As I told you before, Harry, I was the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher when your mother and father were students at Hogwarts. I left that position because I thought I could make more of a difference as an auror. I was very wrong." Nevins choked on his words, but swallowed and forced himself to go on. "I also knew your parents very well after they left Hogwarts. They fought bravely, just like yourself, against the Death Eaters and, and... He-Who-Must-Not-be-Named. Although they were not aurors themselves, they provided us with a great deal of valuable intelligence. As I told you before, Harry, I have never been very brave but I was very good at intelligence and planning and so I worked closely with both your mother and father. Soon after you were born, it was clear they - and you - were in a great deal of danger.

"Appointing a secret keeper was your father's own doing," Nevins went on. "As I think you know. But it was my responsibility to keep track of the comings and goings of You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters and direct the aurors in the field to investigate any suspicious activity. On the night your parents were killed...." Nevins swallowed again. "On the night your parents were killed, I had received what at the time I believed to be reliable information that the Death Eaters were planning to strike against the family of an important ministry wizard who had spoken out very vocally against them. All but a few aurors were dispatched to intercept the Death Eaters and those that remained were occupied elsewhere. There were very few people willing to stand up to You-Know-Who, then, Harry, and our resources were stretched. I believed that you and your parents were safe. I was wrong. Then - "

"You couldn't have known," Harry suddenly blurted out. "You - "

"Let me finish, please, Harry," said Nevins, a dangerous edge to his voice. "Let me say what I have to say before you absolve me of my sins. As I said, I did not know that you and your parents were in danger - at first."

Harry felt a cold, prickling sensation run down the side of his face. He had the sudden urge to get up and run out of the room. He definitely did not think he wanted to hear what was coming next.

"It was late that night when You-Know-Who moved in on Godric Hollow. I was alone in auror headquarters. There was a problem that I wanted to solve, a plan I had to think through fully before all of the details ran out of my head. I was surprised when a head appeared in the fireplace in my office. It was a neighbor of your parents - of yours. A - and a good friend of your mother's. I remember - I...."

Nevins stopped talking. His eyes were suddenly dream like as if he was trying to recall a happier memory, one that would steer him away from the harsh truth he was about to deliver, but then he forced himself back to his narrative.

"Anyway, he was breathless. I knew right away something was very wrong. And I knew before he spoke that it had something to do with your parents. I knew that I had been very, very wrong. But still I listened as he told me how You-Know-Who had walked with his Death Eaters past his house, like a sick parade, how they had met with a gang of Muggles that had taunted them about their dress, not knowing.... Of course, the Death Eaters killed them all, before walking on, continuing still to Godric Hollow. The neighbor hid in fear but as soon as the Death Eaters had gone, he called me through the floo network and told me what was happening. He was a Squib, you see. There was nothing he could do. But I - I - could have done something. I could have apparated from my office right then and there. I could have warned your parents. I could have used the same skills I had taught them and I have taught you to stop them. But - but I didn't. I couldn't. Instead, I called in the field aurors. I formed a plan. And when the Death Eaters fled Godric Hollow, many of them were ambushed. My belated plan worked perfectly. I was awarded the Order of Merlin, Second Class. But believe me, Harry, I wish I could take it back. I tried to tell myself for years that I tried my best, that the aurors I dispatched were just a little too late to save your parents but it wasn't true. I could have gotten there myself in time but I didn't try. I was afraid. I wasn't like your parents; I wasn't like you. I was a coward. I should have known that the day the sorting hat didn't put me into Gryffindor. But I didn't know - I didn't realize until it was too late."

It took Harry a moment to realize that Nevins had stopped talking, that he had finished his explanation, and that he was looking at Harry, his eyes wide, like a school child facing his headmaster, every inch of authority lost to Harry.

A storm of contradictory emotions swirled in Harry's head like the clash of dangerous currents in the sea. Pity for Nevins, for the burden he had shouldered for so long; sadness at the losses Nevins' story had once again reminded him; guilt, again, for the way Nevins' story had made him think of his own failings in the death of the Dursleys; but then at last anger, anger at first tinged with regret that he could not somehow forgive Nevins after he had all but promised to do, but then a much stronger anger, anger at the life that was taken away from him, anger that the very person in whom he was beginning to trust, the person who had forced him to overcome his own fears, had been so incapable of conquering his own when it had really counted. It could have been you, a voice in his head tried to tell him. What if you'd had to tell Ron that his sister had died because you had been too frightened to go into the Chamber of Secrets and save her? But you didn't, the voice responded. Ginny is still alive because of you. You would have saved any of your friends even if you had died doing so. But Nevins couldn't. He had cared too much about himself.

Harry suddenly conjured the image of Nevins standing on the ground, his arms folded smugly, as he had used Harry's fear to force him to find a way to stop his fall the day they had first practiced the levitatus charm. He wondered how Nevins could have stomached the hypocrisy. He suddenly felt sick. Until a few moments ago, he had wondered how he would find some words of comfort, even forgiveness, for his Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher but now he found he could do nothing of the sort. He realized that his hands were shaking as he stood up. He took one last look at Nevins, then turned around and walked out of his office without another word.

***

Later that afternoon, Sirius and Snape sat stirring a new potion, very much like the one they had stirred the night of the Guy Fawkes' Ball several months before, in very much the same spot.

"Not in the mood to talk again today, Black?" Snape asked mildly.

Sirius grunted and buried his head in the potion.

"I'll take that as a no, then," said Snape. "You know, it's very boring, sitting out here for hours and hours, with no one to talk to, and nothing to talk about."

"We could talk about how you intimidate Harry in class," remarked Sirius wryly, after a moment's pause. "What would James and Lily think, I sometimes wonder. But," Sirius sighed. "I'm not James and Lily after all. And I don't think for one moment anything I say could make you change the way you behave to him. Besides, a wanted criminal can hardly go wandering in to check up on his godson's potions lessons."

"And not having come to Potions' lessons yourself, you have only heard your godson's side of the story."

Sirius grunted again. "You forget how well we know each other, Severus. Harry's descriptions of your behavior are very apt. You could never really face James. So you decided to take out all those years of frustration out on his child, who had no power or authority to stop you. It must make you feel a very big man, Snape, just like torturing all those defenseless Muggles in your days as a Death Eater."

For the first time since they had started to speak, Sirius looked Snape in the eye and was pleased to see that two faint blotches of color had made their way onto his otherwise pale white cheeks.

"Perhaps it would do you good to consider teaching our young Mr. Potter a lesson in humility," replied Snape coolly. "Perhaps then he won't spend so much of his time interfering with those who are trying to protect him. In any case, I think you'll find he has a great deal of power and authority."

Sirius let out a hollow laugh. "And what would you have done, Snape, if the most powerful dark wizard of the age was out trying to kill you, and you had absolutely no idea what was going on or how to protect yourself?"

Snape drew himself up. "I would have known well enough to trust those who were older and more experienced than I am. At the very least, I would not have gone purposefully looking for trouble."

"I doubt that very much."

"I know it might be difficult for you to understand, the way you and Potter carried on, but not everyone is obsessed with rule-breaking."

"No, some of us sit around and scheme our way through school, then wait until after we get out to join dark wizards and terrorize innocent people. Oh, I'm sorry, I must have forgotten to forgive you. After all, you're on our side now."

Snape did not respond.

"What's the matter, Severus? Not enjoying our conversation? I thought you wanted to talk."

But when Sirius looked up again, he was surprised to see a half-smile on Snape's face.

"You still don't trust me, Black, do you?"

"Should I?"

"After all the valuable intelligence I've provided you. If it weren't for me, Potter would already be dead and Hogwarts would have fallen into the hands of the Dark Lord."

"Perhaps it still will. I've known you a very long time, Snape. And I find it very hard to believe you've changed as much as you say you have."

"Perhaps you don't know me as well as you think."

"I doubt that."

Snape's lips contorted in a sneer. "If you don't trust me, then, at least you should trust Dumbledore. You pledged your support to him."

Sirius smiled ruefully. "I did, yes. Still, I find myself trusting Albus Dumbledore and his convoluted plans less and less every day."

Snape opened his mouth to respond but before he could there was a faint rustle of robes behind Sirius that signaled the apparation of the very person they had just been discussing.

"You look as though you had something to say, Severus," came Dumbledore's measured tones. "Please do not interrupt on my account. It's so rare for the two of you to talk."

Snape looked as though he was not sure how to respond to this but Sirius turned his head around and said:

"Well?"

Dumbledore arched a curious eyebrow.

"I believe there has been no lasting damage."

Dumbledore walked calmly up to the cauldron Sirius and Snape were stirring and placed a handful of herbs into the potion.

"And Harry?" Sirius asked.

Apparently, Dumbledore did not need to ask to what Sirius was referring. He sighed.

"The time is not right, yet, Sirius. It's too risky. I think that if you think things over carefully yourself, you will realize that."

Sirius hesitated and then nodded. He did not look at Snape.

"We will proceed with our arrangements as originally planned then, headmaster?" asked Snape.

"I see no reason to change them," Dumbledore replied, and the two exchanged knowing nods.

Dumbledore disapparated.

Snape and Sirius said nothing to each other for the moment. Sirius concentrated on stirring Dumbledore's herbs into the mixture. The potion began to let off a faint cloud of pale blue vapor.

"You would do well to trust him, Black. It's the only way Potter and his friends will remain safe."

Sirius did not reply.

"In any case, Black, there is nothing you can do now, unless you propose abandoning the potion, and I trust you know how dangerous that would be. We have no owl and neither of us can go anywhere for the rest of the day."

Sirius coughed gently. "Of course, if I had already sent Harry an owl before you arrived...."

Sirius looked up and was delighted to see Snape's smile fade abruptly from his face.

"Naturally, Black, you wouldn't have done anything as foolish as that."

Sirius smiled. "Naturally."

***

That evening, Harry, Hermione, and Ron sat huddled around the small Wizard chess table in the Gryffindor common room. Snitch peered curiously out of the breast pocket of Harry's robes, his lengthening trunk hanging over the front like a strangely-shaped tentacle. He faithfully trumpeted whenever any of the other Gryffindors approached, at which point the three friends would quickly conceal the letter that was open in front of them on the table. This was not very often, however, as most of the house knew by now to leave them well enough alone.

Harry examined the letter once again. It looked as if it had been in transit some while. There seemed to be indentations from the beaks of more than one owl on the tattered envelope in which it had arrived, perhaps, Hermione had speculated, to cover the tracks of the person who'd sent it. Both the envelope and the letter inside looked like they'd been thoroughly soaked, then dried again. The quill ink on the letter was smudged but the message was still readable and Harry also believed that the handwriting was unmistakable, dismissing Ron's explanation that it might be a forgery.

"It still doesn't tell us much about where he is and what he's doing," said Harry glumly. "Or what he wants me to do for that matter."

"Perhaps if you read it again," Ron suggested.

Harry had already read the letter several times but on Ron's suggestion, he looked at it once more, squinting as if to find some small detail scrawled in invisible ink. It was obvious the letter had been written and posted in a hurry, but with great care so as to conceal its point of origin.

Harry,

I can't say very much; I'm safe as before. But I need to tell you something. Something will happen tonight. I can't tell you what it is but you should keep alert. Keep an eye out for anything strange or anyone behaving strangely in the common room. But don't try to find anything out on your own at all costs; that will just put you in danger. If anything suspicious happens, go to see Professor McGonagall directly. I'm sorry I can't tell you more than this. I know this must be hard. But it won't be long now before everything will get worked out, if we're lucky.

Then on the next line, in an even quicker and messier scrawl, as if as a hasty afterthought, were written the words:

Dumbledore doesn't know I'm sending you this letter. He's trying to keep you safe but I think it would be better if you knew - at least knew something. Got to go. Good luck.

Sirius

Hermione shook her head and sighed. "I really don't think Sirius should have sent out this letter, if it is him."

"It is," said Harry.

Ron glared at Hermione. "I thought you'd say something like that."

Hermione looked back at Ron, a little hurt.

"I mean," Ron added hastily. "It just seemed, well, like the sort of thing you would say and - and quite right, too. What's Harry supposed to do with a letter like this?"

Hermione nodded, apparently mollified, and both she and Ron looked back at Harry.

Harry sighed. He did not, and would not ever, wish for a return to Hermione and Ron's constant bickering but at times like these, he missed their diverse opinions. It helped him to think things through more fully. He was sure that Ron would not have agreed with Hermione before they had been going out. Like Harry, he would have defended Sirius.

But nonetheless, Harry could see Hermione's point of view. He still did not know what was going to happen that night, so did it help that he knew anything at all? The letter just made him feel more frustrated.

"Perhaps the first part was written by Sirius but the last part was written by someone else," Ron suggested.

"I don't think so," said Harry. "It still sounds like him. It's almost as if someone was coming or something. Maybe Dumbledore, I don't know, and he had to send the letter off in a hurry."

"What does he mean, 'anyone behaving strangely in the common room?' Is You-Know-Who going to crash in through the fireplace?" Ron wondered.

"I don't know," said Harry.

"Why does he want you to go and see McGonagall and not Snape?" asked Hermione.

"That's easy," said Harry. "He doesn't trust Snape."

"But surely," said Hermione. "Snape is the headmaster, after all. And he must know about whatever it is Dumbledore and Sirius are planning."

Harry shrugged. "I don't know," he said again wearily, for what seemed like the hundredth time.

"The question is," said Ron. "What do we do about it?"

Harry thought for a moment and then sighed. "I don't think there's very much we can do. We finish our Charms essay, look out for anything odder than usual, and then go to bed. I doubt if I'll sleep, though."

"If you're staying up, we will, too," added Ron, and Hermione nodded her agreement.

"You can't just deal with this by yourself, Harry," Hermione added. "Perhaps we should all keep watch in the common room or something."

"No," said Harry. "I don't want you putting yourselves in danger."

"Danger?" repeated Ron incredulously. "Who said anything about danger?"

"Harry, what's wrong?" asked Hermione insistently. "We've been in much worse danger before. Don't you think - "

"No, I don't," said Harry, without waiting for the end of Hermione's sentence. "If anyone gets hurt, it's going to be me, OK?"

"But Harry," Hermione protested. "We're your friends. We - "

"That's right," said Harry. "And I don't want you to get hurt. Now," he said, folding up Sirius' letter. "I think we better get started on our work. I know I have a lot to do."

Ron was about to add that they all had the same assignment but a look from Hermione silenced him. Both of them then exchanged concerned glances that told each other that neither could find a ready explanation for Harry's abrupt change of mood but both sensed that Harry wasn't going to be inclined to explain himself. So, after a thoughtful few moments, they opened up their bags and started on their work, looking up occasionally for signs of what they still did not know. Finally, Hermione finished first, and then allowed Harry and Ron to copy the end of her essay after growing impatient with the wait. As they reached the staircase to their dormitory, Ron and Harry took one last look down at the common room and they could see from the landing opposite that Hermione was doing the same. But finding nothing amiss, they reluctantly made their way into their rooms and into bed.

After all, all three of them knew that the fifth years had their potions O.W.L. the next day. It was perfectly normal, then, that Ginny and her friends would be clustered around a cauldron in the center of the room.

***

With a gurgled hiss that would have frightened and sickened any passers-by, Voldemort let Nagini's venom run down his hand and into the simmering cauldron below. After he was finished, Voldemort freed the snake and let it slither angrily around his ankles unafraid. Then, his fingers still stained with venom, the Dark Lord reached into the folds of his robes and drew out the worn diary, its faded gold lettering now invisible in the dark night of the Forbidden Forest. Voldemort placed the diary very gingerly on a short stand which lay on top of the cauldron below him. He felt the volume vibrate in his fingers as he did so. He would succeed this time. He could feel it. There was only one last stage of the potion to complete.

Voldemort reached into the folds of his robes one more time and took out his wand, the wand his most faithful servant had given him. He pointed it at the center of the boiling cocktail in the cauldron and cried out:

"Synchronis Totalis!"

Voldemort felt a sucking sensation. It seemed as if he was being pulled, wand first, straight into the center of the diary. The outside world vanished around him in a rush of blackness. Soon, very soon, his mind would be in a very different place.

Then all he would have to do was wait.

***

Late that night, Ginny, Amanda, and Colin continued to stare blankly at the potion in front of them. Ginny didn't like to say anything but she was fairly sure the mixture was supposed to spontaneously boil. It had been nearly a half an hour and it had done no such thing. Amanda stirred it despondently to reveal that far from mixing, the separate ingredients had now congealed into discrete globs like large mutually-repelling amoebas.

"I told you we should have added the wormwood earlier," declared Colin. "It says so right here in the book. I don't know why you two didn't listen to me!"

"Ginny," said Amanda, her teeth clenched together. "Please explain to me why I shouldn't hit him over the head with this cauldron."

"Um," said Ginny quickly, looking anxiously back and forth between Colin and Amanda. "It wouldn't accomplish anything."

"Oh yes it would."

"Well." Ginny tried to think again. "His screams might wake everyone up and he isn't worth it."

Amanda smiled.

"Look." Colin put his hands angrily to his hips. "If you don't want my help, fine! I don't know why I'm bothering to study with you two, anyway! I obviously know much more about this than you! I'm going to bed!"

And with that, Colin was off up the boys' stairs.

Ginny looked after him for a moment then turned back to Amanda who was going very red.

"Your blush is almost as good as mine now," said Ginny.

"Ginny," hissed Amanda. "I swear if we ever have to study with him again, I will hurt him."

"Stay angry," suggested Ginny, taking hold of her roommate's shoulders. "It will help keep you awake."

Amanda sighed. "What are we going to do about this potion?"

"I know you don't want to hear this, Amanda, but maybe Colin was right. I think we have to start over again."

Ginny took out her wand and was about to clear the potion when she looked down more closely and saw to her astonishment that the globs were all turning into smiley faces. Each of the faces opened up and said quite brightly.

"Hello, Virginia! I must say, it's well past your bed time!"

Ginny felt someone grab hold of her wrist and looked up to see Amanda looking very concerned.

"Ginny, you were putting your head very close to that potion. I don't think falling in would be such a good idea."

Ginny rubbed her eyes. "I was falling asleep," she said. "Amanda, I don't know if I can keep going. There's no way I'm going to pass Potions. What with Snape and now Dibble, it's just not possible. I don't want to give up but - "

"And you're not going to," said Amanda decisively. "Look, maybe we should go on another bakery run."

Ginny shook her head. "Not after what happened last time."

"We're going to get through this, Ginny," said Amanda. "We're going to do this potion ourselves and we're going to get it right - tonight."

Ginny nodded wearily. "I - I'll just go to the bathroom and put some water on my face. Maybe that will wake me up."

Amanda nodded and Ginny stumbled for the bathroom, trying to keep her over-worked brain in the conscious world. Not for the first time, she wished she could take Fred and George's attitude to school. No one had expected them to do very well on the O.W.Ls and no one had been very surprised when they hadn't. Why had she always had to be such a good student? Secret rooms, scary crystals, and impossible career-threatening exams. This had certainly not been the easiest week of Ginny's life. And to think that just a few weeks ago she had been worried about whether Harry Potter would pay attention to her.

Ginny walked into the bathroom and ran the cold water tap. She cupped the water in her hands and scooped it up to her face. She looked up to the mirror to examine her sleep-starved complexion and screamed.

"Hello, Ginny," said Tom Riddle's face. "I thought I would dispense with the dueling this time. After all, we have a great deal to discuss, you and I."