Harry Potter and the Silent Siege

Chapter 16

The Trap

Dumbledore looked very old as he stared at the spot where Sirius had stood only seconds before.

"He is not dead?" he said to Snape, an unusually fragile note of uncertainty in his voice.

Snape shook his head. "He has been transported, but to where I cannot say."

"Not to the original room then?"

"Not any more likely than to anywhere else in England. We had not come close to the stage where the potion could be controlled."

Dumbledore looked from Snape to the cauldron. It was now smoking gently but showed nothing of its violent reaction of a moment ago.

"He won't be able to Apparate back then."

Snape nodded. "Not unless he knows exactly where he is, no."

Snape walked up to the cauldron and stared over the edge, waving the smoke away disconcertedly with his wand. What remained of the mixture had settled on the bottom and resembled a flattened Yorkshire pudding sprinkled with blue food-dye.

"In any case," he remarked ruefully. "I'm afraid it's a moot point now. The potion and all of the ingredients have been fused together."

"It is not possible to brew another one?"

Snape shook his head. "Not in the time we have. Not unless you can find a way to get all of the ingredients it took us a month to collect in two days. Or unless you want to steal them from Voldemort?"

Dumbledore shook his head and sighed. "We don't have the luxury to wait for Sirius anymore," he said gravely. "We can only hope that wherever he is, he is safe or that he can get help. We will have to pursue our reserve plan, Severus. We have no other choice now."

Snape opened his mouth as if to protest and then closed it. "Very well."

Dumbledore's azure eyes turned to look at his one-time Potions Master. "I very much hope we will see one another again, Severus. If not, please look after Harry."

Snape seemed to stiffen for a moment, then nodded. Dumbledore extended his hand and Snape shook it vigorously. The headmaster then took one last look at Snape from behind his half-moon glasses, adjusted his cloak over his shoulder, and Disapparated.

Snape waited until Dumbledore had left, then reached into his pocket and drew out a quill and parchment. There was no use wasting any more time. He had a message to write.

***

A faint glow of sunlight shot painfully onto the left eyelid of the wizard known as Sirius Black. Somewhere nearby, a rooster crowed. This in itself was enough to make Sirius sit bolt upright, an action he instantly regretted as every muscle and bone in his body cried out in protest.

Retreating to a lying position, his eyes now firmly shut again, Sirius forced himself to think past the pain that was now surging through his body to reflect on the implications of the rooster's crow.

The last thing he remembered the sun was making its way down past the trees of the Forbidden Forest to evening. But roosters did not crow with the sunset. How much time had elapsed since he had lost consciousness? One night? Two nights?

Memories began to return to Sirius, each set punctuated with large stabs of shooting pain to his forehead. He remembered Snape shouting at him, then a large rush of pain to his chest. And then a memory: helplessly chained to a chair in an interrogation room facing Bartemius Crouch, unable to help himself as his inquisitor's cronies shot the Cruciatus curse at him time and time again until finally he had no longer the strength nor the will to believe in what he had known as the truth.

For the shot of pain from the potion had felt no less severe.

But underneath this agony, a new emotion rose in Sirius like a tree shooting toward the sun from out of a congested forest. Anger. Anger and betrayal. Mixed the ingredients incorrectly, had he? Snape had sabotaged that potion. Sirius knew it.

Sirius cursed Albus Dumbledore, his false ingenuity and his arrogant trust, now proven far too late to have been misguided. He then cursed himself with equal vigor to have followed Dumbledore for so long, to have believed that the means of his plan were justified by its ends, to believe that it was the only way he could save Harry when every moment it had been leading his godson only faster to his death.

There was only one thing Sirius was sure about now. He would not be following any else's plans but his own, Dumbledore be damned. He was going to find his way back to Hogwarts and rescue Harry himself if he had get through one hundred Death Eaters to do it.

And with that last thought, Sirius slipped back onto a patch of unfamiliar earth and lost consciousness again.

***

On the final day of the term, many miles away from where, unbeknownst to him, his godfather now lay lost, Harry Potter also heard the crow of the school roosters as he roused himself from bed, quickly dressed, and then crept past his sleeping roommates and left his room to go downstairs. His mind still half-asleep and half-consumed with fresh reminders of the laundry list of dilemmas that painfully crept back into his conscious thought each morning, he ignored the Fat Lady (and her mild reproach), left the common room, and went out down the staircase to the main section of the castle.

The last few weeks of the term had been surprisingly uneventful for Harry. The Quidditch final had come and gone. At first, it had provided a welcome distraction but the result - a narrow defeat to Ravenclaw - had left him feeling extremely bitter not least because of the manner in which it had been delivered: he had been about to close his hand on the Snitch when Cho Chang had appeared out of nowhere, armed with her most disingenuous smile, and deftly knocked Harry's broomstick off course while he had been too mesmerized to do to same to her and then taken the Snitch for herself. How Harry had ever fallen for the girl he was no longer sure. On top of it all, McGonagall had taken away ten points from Gryffindor when Hermione had let out a string of expletives from the stands which neither he nor her startled boyfriend had had any idea she possessed.

Harry had exchanged several messages with Sirius, most of which were returned back to him looking as though they had succumbed to rain and sleet by particularly haggard owls. Both the content of the messages and the manner in which they were delivered suggested to Harry that his godfather was once again far away from Hogwarts on the hunt for something to do with whatever mysterious plans were now afoot to rid the world of Voldemort.

It was in his last letter to Sirius that Harry had asked his godfather what arrangements were being made for him to stay at Hogwarts over the summer, a question he had already put to Professor McGonagall but received an unsatisfactory response. Sirius had written back only the weekend before with what, like the night of Ginny's dream, had been a relatively short and hastily scrawled letter saying only two things: first, that he was not sure when he would be writing to Harry again but that he hoped he would be seeing him soon and second, that he needn't worry about arrangements for the summer because it wouldn't come to that.

What had Sirius meant? The final week of the term was now near an end, the final Hogsmeade weekend was upon them, and by next Monday, all Hogwarts students would be leaving. Would he be going with them? And to where? To the Burrow? But surely the Burrow would never be safe from an attack by Voldemort?

Scratching his head as he mulled these things over for the umpteenth time, Harry rounded the corridor which ended in the office of the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. He had had several more private tutorials with Nevins since the day he had unceremoniously walked out of his office. Nevins had remained professional and even friendly to Harry but every now and then when he was caught off-guard Harry could see a searching, almost pleading look on his face, at which point Harry had nearly always forced his gaze away.

They were originally supposed to have their final tutorial later that morning, in advance of Harry's last exam of the term for the Defense Against the Dark Arts class proper, but Nevins had owled him during dinner the previous evening requesting that Harry come to his final Defense tutorial before breakfast the following morning. Such was the increasingly rebellious state of Harry's moods that he had half a mind not to show up, but in the end his curiosity had overcome his resentment.

As was often the case in recent weeks, Harry found he had reached the door to Nevins' office far sooner than he wished. He knocked and expected to hear Nevins' customary call to enter but instead he heard the shuffling of footsteps and soon Nevins opened the door himself.

"Please come in, Harry," he said quietly.

Harry entered the office and sat down. Nevins walked in behind him and took a position behind his own desk. He did not sit, however, but zipped up a small briefcase that had been lying on top, then turned to look at Harry.

"There will be no lesson today, Harry," he said. "You have completed all of the training I can give you. I think, after this, you might find seventh year Defense Against the Dark Arts mostly review and I dare say you will have little difficulty on the test I have arranged for this afternoon. You have performed admirably, Harry. You are indeed your father's son."

Harry opened his mouth to speak but found that no sound could come out.

"I asked you to come here so early, Harry, because I have to leave Hogwarts this morning. I have an assignment of my own to complete on behalf of Professor Dumbledore. Professor Grubbly-Plank will be proctoring your examination this afternoon. I dare say she will be more than capable of sitting in front of the room and feigning a lack of boredom."

"Dumbledore?" Harry repeated garrulously. "Where is he? Wh - what assignment? What's going on?"

Harry was not especially surprised when Nevins held up his hand.

"Questions I wish I could answer, Harry, but I'm afraid I cannot."

"W - will we see each other again?" Harry was surprised at the note of desperation that seemed to creep into his voice as he asked this question.

Nevins paused for a moment. A dark shadow flickered across his features.

"I hope so, Harry. I very much hope so."

There was a long pause. Then Harry cleared his throat and said:

"S - so you brought me here this morning just to tell me that you're leaving?"

"To tell you that I'm leaving and because there's something I want to give you."

Nevins reached into his top desk drawer and produced a small opaque sphere that reminded Harry a great deal of Neville's Remembrall. He took it gingerly in his hand and handed it to Harry.

Harry was surprised to find that the sphere was very soft and almost sticky like a giant mass of partially congealed glue. Yet when he rolled it back and forth in his palm, he discovered it left no residue. He started to squeeze the sphere but stopped when Nevins hastily grabbed hold of his wrist.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Nevins said. "You might end up in a large vat of pancake batter in the kitchen."

Harry looked curiously at Nevins.

"It's called a Space Catcher," Nevins explained. "And it belonged to your father. He put it to all kinds of good uses, usually having to do with sneaking out of the dormitory at night after his invisibility cloak was taken away by Professor Dumbledore or escaping detention. I eventually confiscated it. It is after all an extremely dangerous device. After your father left Hogwarts, I offered to return it to him but he thought I could put it to better use. Now I think you will find more use for it than I."

"What does it do?" asked Harry.

"It is a crude Disapparation device. Whoever squeezes it will Disapparate and reapparate in another location. It will not take you very far from where you left and, for that reason, your father felt it safe. I felt otherwise. You see, Harry, the Space Catcher operates on a random principle. The user has no idea where he will end up."

"And you think it safe if I use it?"

Nevins didn't quite meet Harry's gaze. "Safer than certain death at the hands of an army Death Eaters, yes."

Harry swallowed.

Nevins looked up again, took his briefcase in his hand, and moved around to the other side of the desk. He held out his hand. Harry hesitated for a moment then shook it.

"Good luck, Harry," he said.

"And you, sir," replied Harry.

Nevins nodded to Harry and then proceeded to the door.

"Oh," he said, turning around to look back at Harry. "By the way, it's rather difficult to find a quiet place to study on the last day of term. You're welcome to stay in here if you like, Ron and Hermione, too. You'll find the door will open at your touch. I'll be off then."

Nevins swiftly swung around and reached out for the door knob. He was about to turn the handle when Harry called out:

"There was nothing you could have done. If you had tried to save my parents, Voldemort would have just killed you, too. I think deep down you know that."

A strange silence filled the room like the absence of sound after a loud thunderclap. Harry was not sure what had made him call out like that. It was not something he had planned or thought about before he had said it. Nevins took his hand away from the door and turned around to look at Harry. He looked very pale.

"Thank you, Harry," he said simply and turned to open the door again.

"Professor!" Harry called out again.

Nevins turned around.

"Please, I - I don't know what's going to happen to me - to my friends. I - I - I'm really scared."

Harry slumped back in his chair, astonished at the words that had just escaped from his mouth, and the weak, frightened childlike voice that had formed them. He looked up at Nevins, desperately wanting to take back what he had just said, and show the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher that he was as brave and strong as he had shown him all along. He braced himself against Nevins' anger and his disgust.

But Nevins showed neither reaction. Instead, he walked back to face Harry, clasped a hand on his shoulder, and looked him firmly in the eye.

"I'll say it again, Harry," he said slowly. "You have the skills you need to face whatever might come to you. Just do yourself a favor and learn from an old man's mistakes: have faith in your friends and in yourself. And be brave, Harry. Just be brave."

***

Sirius first became aware that he must have lost consciousness a second time when something very hard and painful was stuck into his ribs.

"Get up!" cried a surly female voice.

Sirius managed to sit up and, for the first time since his unceremonious transportation from the Forbidden Forest, managed to open his eyes. What he saw made him very much want to shut them again. A tall, middle-aged woman, her blonde hair pulled back in a severe bun, stared at him from behind a pair of cold blue eyes and the muzzle of a long, dangerous-looking metal pole. She was dressed from head to toe in an anachronistic grey tweed suit complete with a small round hat topped with a black velvet bow. This particular feature (albeit little else about the woman) reminded Sirius distinctly of a witch whose path he had once crossed at the Ministry of Magic and the similarity did not make him feel particularly comfortable. The woman cradled the pole in her right hand while keeping the left closed around the leash of a jet black Doberman Pinscher more than twice the size of Sirius' own animagus form. The expression on the dog's face mirrored its owners down to its long protruding nose. The only difference was that the dog continued barking long after its owner had stopped.

"Down, Midget!" the woman finally snapped and Midget managed to quiet his barks to a menacing snarl.

"Get up!" the woman repeated to Sirius. "I'm warning you!"

Sirius did not need to be told twice. Trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his head, legs, and side, Sirius staggered to his feet to face the woman, finding to his dismay, that she was even taller than he was.

"That's better," said the woman, wearing a smug, satisfied smile. "I am Lady Hawthorne and you, sir, are trespassing on my property. Explain yourself!"

Sirius took in his surroundings for the first time. He was standing at the bottom of a long sweeping hill. Yards upon yards of freshly mowed grass sprawled out in front of him, giving way to a small forest on one side and a boggy mass of reeds and a small river on the other. Ahead of him in the distance was a large white house that looked like a converted fortress. Sirius had little doubt he had met its owner. It seemed likely from the woman's absurdly toffee-nosed accent that they were still somewhere in England, but exactly where he had no idea and that made it impossible to Disapparate back to Hogwarts.

"I - " Sirius hesitated for a moment. "My name is Potter - Harry Potter. And I - I'm simply trying to find my way home, madam."

As if in response, Midget let out a loud menacing bark. Lady Hawthorne looked down fondly at her dog and then coldly across at Sirius.

"And you decided to take a detour through my property? Oh, you vagrants are all the same."

"I assure you, madam," said Sirius politely, wincing at the pain in his side as he did so. "I am merely lost. If you would be so kind as to direct me away from your premises and point me to a map, I will be on my way."

Lady Hawthorne did not respond although her eyes narrowed shrewdly. She then poked Sirius in the chest causing Midget to bark loudly again.

"Move!" she commanded.

She stepped behind Sirius and directed him up the sloping lawn to the castle-like structure at its crest.

Sirius reluctantly moved his way forward toward the castle. He could only hope that his unwilling hostess merely planned to escort him off her property. Then he could get back to the business of trying to find where he was and how he could get out and back to Hogwarts. He thought of reaching for his wand but then decided against it. Muggle Studies had not been one of Sirius' most successful subjects but he was fairly sure that the long metal pole Lady Hawthorne was carrying, though far more cumbersome than a wand, was capable of doing just as much damage.

The climb up the hill seemed to take forever and every joint in Sirius' body cried out in pain but he forced himself to walk as briskly as he could, mostly because he realized the urgency of returning to Hogwarts, but not least because he could feel Lady Hawthorne's dog struggling against his leash behind him.

At last, they reached the top of the hill and Lady Hawthorne prodded him to move to the right, away from the house and in the direction of a small opening in the large wall that surrounded the outside of the mansion. Sirius grew very hopeful that this might indeed be the exit and he could escape from his unfortunate encounter with Lady Hawthorne with little more than a bruised side, but as they neared the opening, Sirius saw to his dismay that what lay beyond was not a front garden opening to the outside but a small walled-in shed, containing a variety of gardening instruments. On seeing this, Sirius hesitated at the entrance. He was about to turn around to face Lady Hawthorne when he felt a sharp painful prod in his lower back and found himself face down on the muddy floor of the shed.

Wincing in agony, Sirius tried to force himself to an upright position. Amidst the excited barking of the Labrador, Sirius heard the ominous sound of a key being hastily inserted into a lock and turned around just in time to see Lady Hawthorne's determined face, silhouetted for a moment in the doorway of the shed, disappear as she closed and then bolted the door.

Sirius stood up and tried the door with both hands. It would not budge. He kicked it hard but the result was a sharp stabbing pain in his foot to go with the sting in his back.

"Mr. Potter, eh?" said Lady Hawthorne's cool voice from the other side. "I was under the impression your name was Black. Sirius Black. Oh, yes. I wouldn't be so surprised if I were you. Your picture's all over the telly. And as soon as the police arrive, you'll finally pay for all those people you killed. And I will receive the very handsome reward for your capture. In fairness, it should belong to Midget. After all, it was he who sniffed you out. Perhaps I'll build him a very large dog house. Then again, I think perhaps I'll donate it the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. I'm sure Midget will understand."

***

"I'm sure he left better knowing how you really felt, Harry," said Hermione gently, as she, Harry, and Ron were sitting down together at breakfast.

"Yeah," said Harry, staring moodily at his Wizard Puffs. "Only I'm not sure I really meant it."

Ron studied his egg and bacon rather closely, too. He certainly hoped Hermione had something more to say because he knew he was not very good at this sort of thing.

"Of course you did, Harry," said Hermione.

Harry let out a non-committal groan.

"Mail's here," said Ron, looking up and glad to find a change of topic.

A cacophony of owls swooped down into the Great Hall bearing the usual last minute lists of reminders from parents anxious to ensure their offspring did not leave anything behind again this year. Neville had to cover his head with his arms as half a dozen owls swooped in on his position at the same time.

Pigwidgeon glided down and dropped a letter in Ron's lap. He picked it up and opened it curiously, then raised his eyebrows in glee when he saw what it contained.

"Look, it says 'congratulations on finishing your exams: four sickles off all purchases over two knuts at Honeydukes. This Saturday only.'"

"I've got one, too!" said Hermione.

"Cheer up, mate," said Ron, looking at Harry and pleased to find something to talk about other than Nevins' morbid confessions or Harry's lack of a home for the summer. "Just think: just one more test and then we're free and it's Hogsmeade and Honeydukes tomorrow."

Ron's smile died on his face as he looked up and noticed that, in addition to his own Honeydukes coupon, Harry brandished an envelope with the Hogwarts crest and was now reading the letter.

"I'm afraid you'll be going without me," he said glumly and held up the letter for Ron and Hermione to see. Ron took it from him and read it along with Hermione.

Dear Mr. Potter,

I regret to inform you that due to heightened concerns about your safety, it will be necessary for you to remain inside the school grounds this weekend. I am afraid you will have to cancel any plans to participate in the final Hogsmeade weekend. I remain, of course, well aware of your usual disregard for rules and warnings. Should you choose to disobey this letter, however, you should not expect to be rescued again. I will instead be more than happy to live with one less burden in my Potions lessons next term.

Sincerely,

Severus Snape

Acting Headmaster

"Cheerful git," remarked Ron.

"Harry," said Hermione. "You're not leaving the castle this time!"

"Don't worry," said Harry despondently. "I'll be a good boy."

"Look on the bright side, mate," said Ron. "Maybe this is what Sirius meant when he said you wouldn't have to stay over the summer. Maybe they've got old You-Know-Who cornered. They just want to keep you out of the way."

Harry looked up at Ron. "So they're letting every other Hogwarts student stroll into Hogsmeade. Doesn't make much sense, does it?"

"Well, it's you they're after," said Hermione, but not before Harry caught her stealing an anxious glance at Ron.

"Well, there's one thing for certain," said Ron. "If you stay, we're staying, too!"

"No, you're not!" retorted Harry. "You've got your coupons and you're going to use them!"

"Harry!" protested Hermione. "It won't be fun without you!"

"Besides," added Ron. "I'm sure the weather will play up. Always does."

Ron had no sooner finished his sentence when a pleasantly warm, sunny breeze drifted in through the open window next to them and ruffled his ginger hair.

"It will be fun without me," said Harry, a trace of bitterness in his voice, "and you know it. It's your first summer as a couple." He tried to smile but finished up looking no more convincing than Professor Binns. "Here, take my coupon." He shifted the Honeydukes' envelope over to Ron. "And I expect lots of chocolate when you come back."

The envelope sat on the table for a moment. Then Ron grudgingly put it into the pocket of his robes. But neither he nor Hermione smiled back.

***

Sirius waited for Lady Hawthorne's business-like footsteps to subside and then withdrew his wand. He needed to think of a way out fast. He took hold of the wand in his hand, pointed it at the door, and was about to cast a simple lock-breaking charm when the wand crumbled into its component pieces in his hand.

Sirius stared at his palm and sighed. Apparently his wand had survived the transportation even less well than he had. He tried the lock again with his hand but it didn't work. Then he paced around the shed, wincing as he stumbled over a rake, but there seemed no ready exit. The walls of the small shed were made of thick stone, in keeping with the fortress-like theme of the whole estate. The only light came from a small window in the back of the shed, far too high to reach, even with the precarious assistance of one of the garden tools. Sirius paced restlessly for a while, then transfigured into a dog. But this only made things shorter and further away. He paced around the room sniffing the walls for some sign of an exit, but there was none.

Sirius sat on the ground, his tail wagging impatiently behind him, trying to think of some way out. He was parched and hungry and very much in pain. He fought away a feeling of fogginess that continued to push against his head. He could not afford to lose consciousness again, not now.

Sirius thought of sniffing around again when he heard footsteps approaching the outside of the shed. Surely the Muggles couldn't have arrived so soon. But then there came the sound of a key being inserted into a lock and Sirius quickly changed back into human form, tensing himself for flight.

The door open and bright light rushed in from outside. Temporarily blinded, Sirius had little chance to react as two burly Muggle policemen moved in, grabbed his struggling arms, snapped iron chains around his wrists, then led him out into the glare of the midday sun. As Sirius' eyes adjusted to the light, he could see Lady Hawthorne standing at a safe distance behind the shed, smiling contentedly. Midget sat at her side, eyeing the entourage in ardent anticipation of a doggie treat.

"I - I think there's been a misunderstanding," Sirius started, shocked to discover how feeble and croaky he sounded.

Neither policeman responded. Sirius was led quickly around the other side of the garden wall and out to a front driveway where two Muggle police carriages were waiting and several other policemen stood to attention, all with metal poles in their hands, slightly shorter, but no less dangerous looking, than Lady Hawthorne's.

Sirius tried to speak again but one of the policemen shoved him roughly down into the carriage and shut the door. Sirius tried to open it but found it was locked. A row of short metal bars separated him from the two policemen who sat in the front of the carriage. He saw them chatting to a highly delighted Lady Hawthorne for a few moments and then watched as they returned to the carriage, twisted a short, stubby key into its belly, and drove quickly away from the grounds and out onto the open road.

Sirius decided that talking to the officers would do no good. As they drove off down the paved roadway, he scanned the tree-lined sides for any sign of where they might be. If he could Disapparate while he was still in the back, neither of the Muggles might realize what had actually happened. In any case, Sirius found he had little concern about shielding Muggle eyes from magic. If he didn't get back to Hogwarts, it might not be long before none of it mattered anyway.

Sirius was still none the wiser when the carriage pulled up outside the building that apparently served as the fort of the Muggle police. The policemen opened the doors again and pulled Sirius out, then steered him inside. His mind growing ever desperate, Sirius thought of transfiguring out of their grasp, but before he could, several more Muggle policemen, some from arriving carriages and others from inside the fort, closed in on him like a wall. There was nothing he could do to prevent them from steering him quickly through the heart of the fort and into a small grey cell little better than the shed he had left.

***

Ginny Weasley ran out of the main doors of the school and onto the Hogwarts grounds, her heart lighter than it had been all year. She ran up to the cool, glistening waters of the lake, found her favorite tree, and made a happy tumble through the grass before resting her back against its trunk. She closed her eyes, drank in the pungent smell of fresh wild heather, and let her hands run over the softly textured bluegrass. The seasons were never hidden to Ginny. She knew that summer had arrived and now, at last, she could begin to appreciate it.

The exams were over. The dreaded, long-feared O.W.Ls were finally at an end.

Ginny had no sooner rested her head back to smile at the thought than she felt a long bushy tail tickle the side of her arm. She opened her eyes and giggled.

"Hello, Crookshanks," she said.

"Hello, Ginny," said a voice approaching the tree from the other side.

Ginny turned around.

"Hermione," she said. "Finished already?"

Hermione smiled and nodded, then sat down beside her friend. "And you?"

Ginny nodded and broke into a broad smile, unable to conceal her delight.

"I was the first one out," she said. "Poor Amanda and Catherine are still in there."

"I was, too, last year," said Hermione.

"And you got top marks?"

Hermione nodded.

"I'll try not to hope for too much," said Ginny but she could not keep the smile off her face. "What about Ron and Harry?"

Hermione frowned. "Ron's still in there. I was just going back in to check up but I couldn't resist a walk by the lake. It just feels so oppressive in that castle."

"And Harry?"

"Harry finished first this time. He was out of there in less than an hour. I suppose it's all the extra Defense lessons he had. He'll make a great Auror, if that's really want he wants to do."

Hermione kept her smile but all of the color left her cheeks.

"Hermione," said Ginny gently. "Is everything OK?"

Hermione looked down at the ground and picked at a few blades of grass. "It's just - " She stopped and sighed. "He still doesn't know what will happen to him and I don't know either. He might have to stay in the castle all summer. Ron and I asked McGonagall if we could stay, too, but - " Hermione hesitated. Once again, she wanted to tell Ginny about the letter from Sirius, but couldn't. "She hasn't told us yet," she finished.

"I want to stay, too," said Ginny firmly.

Hermione nodded. She looked thoughtfully down at the earth for a moment.

"Ginny," she said hesitantly.

Ginny's smile faded.

"I - I don't want to spoil your day but suppose McGonagall doesn't let us stay. Suppose Harry's all alone here in the castle."

Or worse, thought Hermione, but she kept this to herself.

"Do you really - I mean - I'm sorry, Ginny, but how long are you going to let this drag out? You might be gone by next week. Are you ever going to tell him how you feel?"

Ginny didn't answer.

"Do you understand, Ginny?" said Hermione quietly. "I love Harry. But I can't love him the way you do. He's going further back into his own world every day. I can be his friend and so can Ron. But he needs more than that now. He needs someone to love him. He needs you, Ginny. I don't care whether he knows it or not but he needs you."

There was a long pause.

"I know, Hermione," said Ginny finally, so softly Hermione wasn't sure that she really heard the words. "I've known it for a long time but I've been so - so scared. I'm not like you."

Hermione put her hand on Ginny's shoulder. "Yes, you are, Ginny," she said. "Listen to me. Harry got a letter from Snape this morning. He won't be able to go to Hogsmeade tomorrow. Snape thinks it's too dangerous. But he won't let Ron and I stay here with him. I think he just wants to stay here alone and brood all day." She sighed. "But he didn't say anything about you, Ginny. You could stay there with him. And then - " Hermione hesitated. " - then you can tell him how you feel. It's your best chance."

To Hermione's immense relief, Ginny nodded.

"I'll tell him," she said, though it seemed to take all of her strength.

"Good." Hermione slowly smiled.

A cautious smile played over Ginny's own lips but vanished quickly. She suddenly stood up, took out her wand, and stared at the base of the large tree under which she had sat as though she expected it to attack her.

"Ginny?" said Hermione curiously. "What's wrong?"

"I - I heard something - in the trees," said Ginny anxiously. She realized how this must look to Hermione, but though she managed to suppress her anxieties for most of the waking day, Ginny's nerves had remained on edge ever since her last nightmare.

"I expect - " Hermione began but stopped as Crookshanks leapt out of her arms with a loud snarl and darted swiftly into the forest.

"Crookshanks!" Hermione cried out. "Crookshanks! Come back here."

Both girls let out a sigh.

"I heard something moving, something scuttling," explained Ginny, now feeling a little foolish. "I suppose Crookshanks heard it, too, and decided it was time for an early dinner."

"Crookshanks!" called Hermione again. She peered cautiously through the branches of a bush next to the tree. "Crookshanks! Come back here right now!"

A few more moments passed before there was a softer rustling sound and Crookshanks slowly made his way back out of the undergrowth, a very sulky expression on his pudgy face.

Hermione let out a sigh of relief, took the cat into her arms, and began to groom the twigs off his body, shaking her head as she did so.

"Anyway," she said, turning back to Ginny. "I suppose I'd better be getting back to Ron. Good luck."

Ginny nodded. "Thank you, Hermione," she said, "for everything."

Still holding Crookshanks, Hermione put an awkward arm around Ginny and they exchanged a quick hug. Then Hermione turned and walked back toward the castle but before she had taken more than a few paces, she stopped and looked back again.

"Ginny," she said.

"Hermione?"

"Don't take no for an answer."

***

Sirius blinked his eyes rapidly as he moved swiftly back into the conscious world. He looked up at a small, low-voltage, incandescent light bulb that hung from the ceiling by a naked wire. He tried to ignore his throbbing headache which only seemed to be getting worse. His throat felt so parched it stuck to the top of his tongue.

With great effort, Sirius heaved himself into a sitting position and found he was resting on the top sheet of a hard makeshift bed in a very small cell separated from a single hallway by long metal bars and from the adjoining cells by a heavy mesh. With an ironic smile, Sirius thought how much this reminded him of his cell in Azkaban; Muggle or Wizard, it made no difference.

At least this cell had a window, though, and out it Sirius could see the clear day fading to inky black as dusk slowly fell on another early summer day in England. Assuming this was Friday, Voldemort planned to attack Hogwarts the next day and unless he could think of something very fast, Sirius wasn't going to be there to stop him.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of talking in the corridor opposite.

" - murdered thirteen people they say," came a slightly gruff male voice.

"I'm in a bit of right state with 'im in here, I don't mind admitting. When is it they're comin' to get 'im?" replied another man, who sounded a little younger.

"'Morrow morning," said the first.

"Cor, can't they get here sooner? What's the matter, anyway? You'd think the Yard'ld be swarmin' in here."

"Funny business, this," replied the older man after a pause.

"MI5?"

"No, there're stranger things than MI5, mate."

Sirius drew in a sharp breath. So that was it. They were going through all the channels to the Ministry. And tomorrow morning they were going to come and take him back to Azkaban or maybe just feed him to the Dementors. There had to be a way out. If only he could think!

"Don' seem right, though; he's not well, is he?" came the younger man's voice again. "Should be in hospital, I reckon."

"If you want to move him there, be my guest," came the wry reply.

"What about that drunk and disorderly we got in the next cell. Hadn't we better move 'im?"

"He's all right. In here a dozen times a month. There's a mesh in-between 'em, 'int there? Besides, maybe it'll make him think twice before havin' a nipper again. Anyhow, you'd better check on 'im, again."

There was a shuffling of footsteps and Sirius tried to look less agitated. A beefy young Muggle prison guard with a bright red face, a blond crew cut and scared-looking blue eyes walked around the corner and was surprised to see Sirius sitting up in bed.

"Hello," said Sirius absently.

"He's awake, sir," cried the young officer, taking two steps back and watching Sirius cautiously.

"Well, get 'im his supper, then, Parker," came the reply.

Parker did not need to be told twice. With one long hefty stride, he moved back into the shadows, returning a few minutes later with a sealed tray of very unappetizing food and a bottle of water. He opened a flap under the cell, shoved the food inside, and moved quickly away, his eyes never leaving Sirius, like he was hand-feeding a python.

"Thank you," said Sirius bluntly.

It didn't take long for Parker to leave again and Sirius quickly snatched the water bottle and downed the contents in a single gulp. At least it made him feel a little better though he doubted he would touch the food. He stood up from the bed and began to pace his cell. He knew he had to find a way to stay awake this time. He had to think of a plan. He had to get out of this before it was too late.

Sirius quickly ran through the possible options for escape in his mind. Transfiguration was just as useless to him now as it had been in Lady Hawthorne's shed: the bars were far too tight for Snuffles. He had no wand. He couldn't Disapparate as he still did not know where he was. If he only he still that the Space Catcher he and James used to use to get out of detention. That would have -

Sirius' thoughts were interrupted by a low humming sound from the cell next to him that reminded him of a grindylow in pain. He turned around alarmed. Of course, this must be the "drunk and disorderly." He was trying to sing. Sirius sighed. He supposed Muggles didn't have any potions for drunkenness.

Sirius tried to ignore the man's humming but it only grew louder and more insistent as its singer shifted key with the ease of a Muggle tractor grinding into gear. Finally, Sirius found himself tapping on the mesh that separated the two cells.

"Sir," he said. "Excuse me, sir!"

The singing abruptly stopped, momentarily replaced by an interrogative murmur punctuated by a loud belch.

"Can you please stop the singing, sir?" said Sirius. "I'm trying to sleep!" he lied.

There was another interrogative sound, this time a snort. Then a croaky voice called out:

"Sorry, guv'nor."

Sirius sighed and sat down on the bed again, trying to focus his tired thoughts. But merely a few short moments passed before the humming started up again like a low rumbling thunder. Sirius guessed the man was singing in his sleep. He would just have to rouse him again. He raised his fist to bang loudly against the cell wall when something seized his attention.

When he listened past the sandpapered quality of the drunkard's song, Sirius could just make out a melody, one he was sure that he recognized. Curiosity stirring inside him, Sirius placed his ear to the wall and listened carefully.

"'Shwas jus' a lonely hag/met 'er on a crag/wen' back teh 'er 'ovel an' we 'ad ourselves sum shag."

Sirius found himself reminded of something: lying in a dustbin disguised as Snuffles, fighting off the foul odor of rotting vegetable juice, listening to a song coming from his godson's open window. But it couldn't be -

Sirius rapped as loudly as he dared on the mesh between the cells. He looked through and saw the wiry, dirty figure in the cell opposite sit up quickly, a surprisingly bright pair of beady brown eyes flashing at once to attention.

"Who's there? Who's there?" the man demanded. "Come teh take me away now, have yeh, guv'nor, eh, eh?" He looked wildly around.

"Keep your voice down!" hissed Sirius in a loud whisper.

"Oh, it's you, sir, guv'nor, sir," said the man, tipping a shabby brown hat in the direction of the mesh. "What's wanted fer murder an' all that. And how can I be of service teh yeh, guv'nor?"

Sirius hesitated for a moment. "That song you were singing - I - I think I might have heard it before. Could you tell me what it's called?"

"Oh!" said the man, smiling, his head bobbing back and forth like a child's toy. "Funny yeh should ask, guv'nor. Thereby hangs a tale. Quite a long one, I'm afraid, but we got all night. Not goin' anywhere, are we now? Eh, eh?"

"Perhaps you could give me a shortened version."

"Oh, right then. Well, it'll probably sound right odd teh yeh now. Then again, bein' a murderin' chap yeh self, I don' reckon I know what's it is yeh think, but anyrit, I was after these aliens."

Sirius sighed loudly.

"Well, only they's weren't aliens at all, sir as it turned out. Anyhow, I followed them teh the back of this 'ere pub. Go there quite often myself, see, guv'nor, cause I seen them go in there an' all, and I'm on the front lines, guv'nor, the front lines! So I got to do me business, see?"

Sirius buried his aching head in his elbow.

"Called the Leaky Cauldron it is."

Sirius looked up, suddenly alert.

"An' it's a good name, guv'nor, cause all their glasses must 'ave 'oles in 'em, I reckon, 'cause whenever I drink there, they always have to keep fillin' me up right fast an' all. Anyhow, I followed these two blokes out the back, I know's they're aliens sir, all funny like, seen 'em before. Anyhow, that's what's I's thinkin' at the time. But then they knocked on some bricks like that you see, sir."

The man knocked his fist so loudly on the metal mesh Sirius was certain it would alert the guards.

"An' blow me down, we's into a funny alley, an' what do yeh reckon I found?"

"What?" asked Sirius, a little anxiously.

"They 'int aliens at all, guv'nor, yeh see, they're wizards!" the man declared triumphantly, his voice rising.

"Sssh!" cried Sirius. "And what happened then?"

"Well I went in all the shops, didn' I, well it 'int every day yeh find wizard things, 'int it? An' that's when I heard this 'ere song. Funny, 'int it? And I hummed it all the way back home only I think I might 'ave been hummin' a bit too loud an' all 'cause these coppers came back and put me 'in here. They're always doin' that, yeh see, guv'nor. They're afraid 'o me, an' all, all part o' the plan, yeh see?"

Sirius was disappointed but then a thought occurred to him. "Can you tell me exactly where we are? Not far from London, then?"

"'Course I can, guv'nor. I lives here an' all. Just take the bus o'er a couple o' hills, wander aroun' on the tube for a while, make for a couple of pubs an' you'll be there in' no time."

Sirius sighed. "Can you be more precise, sir?"

"'Course I can, guv'nor. Let's see now." The man looked carefully at his hand and counted his fingers. "That's it, guv'nor. Seventeen pubs in all. Jus' follow them down, yeh can' miss it!"

There was a moment's pause before Sirius said:

"Can you remember anything else you might have seen in Diagon - in the wizard alley? Did you by chance talk to anyone or purchase anything?"

"'Course I did, guv'nor. Lots o' nice ladies and gentlemen I met. Real rare these days, sir. I even changed feh some o' them wizard money, sir. Met a few creepy fellows, though, I must say. There was this one chap - Mr. - Mr. - Olive Blender! That's it!"

"Mr. Ollivander?" asked Sirius, feeling a flicker of hope.

"Just like I said, guv'nor. Sure gave me the wobblies, he did."

"And - and did you purchase anything from Mr. Ollivander?" asked Sirius, a little breathlessly.

"I did," said the man proudly. "'Int everyday yeh see a shop full o' wizard wands. Well, I got me a nice oak one, I did. Only it don' work," the man finished, crestfallen.

And before Sirius' wondering eyes, the man reached into the pocket of his faded black coat and pulled out a long slender wand. Sirius studied the mesh that separated them. There might just be room.

"Sir," said Sirius. "My name is Harry Potter. And I wonder if you might help me."

"Oh!" The man let out a raucous croak. "'Arry Potter, eh? I don' think so, guv'nor. Seen yeh name too much in the papers now. But don' yeh worry, guv'nor, I don' set much store by 'em. Yeh name might be Black, but it's not mud with me!"

The man laughed very hard, only to be stopped when he began to choke on his own saliva and lapsed into a loud coughing fit.

"Sorry about that," he said, clearing his throat when he was finally finished. "I'd be glad to help yeh, guv'nor. Anythin' to stop 'em. I'd shake yeh hand but I can' get through their bloody mesh. The name's Barnaby, sir. Thomas Barnaby."

***

It was still fairly early the next morning when Ron and Hermione made their way into Honeydukes.

"I know exactly what Harry would like," declared Ron. "We'll load up the bag with Chocolate Frogs, Jittering Jellies, and Flamelian Fudge, and then take it straight back to him."

He tugged on Hermione's hand and pulled her straight into the "Sugar Tooth" section of the shop where all the large supplies were kept. So intent was Ron on finding the sweets he thought Harry would want that he didn't notice when Hermione made a face.

"Ron," she said. "He won't like it if we're back so early. He'll get all moody again."

"Nonsense," said Ron. "He'll forget all about that when he's seen what we've got for him."

Hermione continued to look anxious behind Ron's back. After their breakfast the day before, Hermione might have been inclined to agree with him but now she wanted to make sure Ginny had more than enough time before she and Ron returned.

"Now, let's see." Ron handed a pile of Chocolate Frogs to Hermione who reluctantly placed them into a small plastic cauldron that served as a shopping basket at Honeydukes.

"And these are for us." He handed her an even larger stack.

"Ron, I can't eat all these!"

"Don't worry, I can manage most of them."

Hermione sighed but Ron was already searching on the next shelf.

"Ah, Jittering Jellies, found them. Not many here, though. We'll just have to give them all to Harry."

Ron smiled at Hermione as he handed her a stack. He turned back to look at the shelves again when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

"What?" He turned around to look at Hermione but found she was not the one who had touched him. He turned in the other direction to find himself face to face with the prominent chin of Tobias Whitherstripe, the proprietor.

"Don't mean to bother you but I'm a little short of help today. If you're going to clean me out, do you think you'd mind going downstairs and bringin' up some more? Big strapping lad like you shouldn't find it too difficult. Only I can't leave the front of the store."

"Oh, right," said Ron, his hands covered in Jittering Jellies.

"I'll help," said Hermione briskly and led Ron by his sticky hand away from the sweets shelves.

"That's the spirit, luv," said Whitherstripe. "Just down these stairs."

Whitherstripe motioned to a door just behind his desk which opened to a set of stairs leading down to the cellar. A musty smell hung in the air as they made their way down a creaking set of floorboards, the noisy sounds of dozens of sweet-shopping students upstairs fading quickly to muffled obscurity. Ron was just beginning to wonder why the room seemed to unnerve him when Hermione squeezed his hand tightly and gasped.

"What?" asked Ron, his startled heart thumping against his chest.

"Sorry," said Hermione right away. "I thought I heard something move."

"Probably just a rat," said Ron. "Isn't it lit down here?"

He took out his wand.

"Lumos," he said and Hermione followed suit.

They searched around the room for a moment. The walls were covered in misshapen boxes. Most of them rested so precariously Ron was sure they must have been held there with magic. They eventually found an enormous box marked: JITTERING JELLIES standing awkwardly on top of three others.

"Bloody hell," said Ron. "How are we going to get that thing down? And how are we going to carry it?"

Hermione cleared her throat and held out her wand.

"Oh," said Ron. "Right."

Hermione flicked her wand at the box and guided it slowly away from the shelf. She started to lower it to hover just above the ground when there was an ominous sliding sound. She looked up just in time to see Ron waving his wand frantically at the lower three boxes on the shelf which, despite his efforts, quickly collapsed to the floor spilling all of their contents. Distracted, Hermione lost control of her own box which fell awkwardly into her arms causing her wand to drop to the floor.

"Ron!" she cried, teetering back and forth from the over-balanced weight of the box. "Help!"

Ron quickly grabbed the other side of the box and he and Hermione eased it down to the floor.

They both stood up panting. Hermione casually flicked a stray lock of hair out of her face and surveyed the floor. The other three boxes hadn't been as lucky as the Jittering Jellies. The room was soon filled with the sounds of loud popping as Fizzing Whizzbees erupted from their packaging; Saccharin Snakes writhed in every open space; and Chocolate Frogs hopped merrily over the chaos. When the noise finally subsided along with the expended charms of the sweets, Hermione looked up at Ron:

"Now what?"

But Ron just smiled at her curiously.

"You know, I was just wondering."

"Wondering what?"

"Wondering whether Hermione Granger has ever been kissed in a dusty cellar surrounded by messy sweets."

"No more than she had in a kitchen full of half-baked pork pies."

Ron continued to smile. "Well, then."

Hermione frowned. "I never knew you were like this, you know."

Ron edged toward her. "And now that you do?"

Hermione opened her mouth to respond but a giggle escaped. This proved all the encouragement Ron needed to reach out and pull her toward him, but just before their lips could connect, Hermione pushed herself down on him hard and both of them landed on top of the Jittering Jellies. The box split open as they started to kiss. Hermione pulled Ron into a tumble and soon both of them were soon covered in Jittering Jellies, Saccharin Snakes, Fizzing Whizzbees, and very mushy Chocolate Frogs.

Ron moaned with delight as his senses were filled with his two great indulgences: chocolate and Hermione. Hermione locked him into a fierce embrace and both of them continued to roll around on the floor, picking up debris like an avalanche.

All of this caused such a distraction that neither noticed when a squat form emerged from the shadows and jumped on top of them. It was not until the figure had rode them like a beach ball for a moment, jumped off, and then bellowed a cheerful greeting that Ron and Hermione quickly disentangled themselves, jumped for their wands and cried:

"Lumos!"

Twin beams shone out from the two wands onto the golf-ball shaped eyes of Dobby the house-elf.

"Dobby!" said Hermione anxiously, trying desperately to flatten her hair, which now stood in all directions and, with the addition of several gooey sweets, made her resemble a psychedelic peacock.

Dobby clasped his hands together. "Dobby is very sorry indeed. Dobby did not mean to disturb wizard mating behavior. But Dobby is very happy to have found Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley - safe!"

"We weren't - " Ron started angrily but Hermione held up her hand.

"What do you mean safe, Dobby? What's wrong?"

Dobby's eyes darted back and forth from Hermione to Ron.

"But - but where is Harry Potter? Surely he is with his closest friends in Hogsmeade on such a nice day?"

Ron shook his head. "Harry had to stay in the castle."

Dobby let out a yelp of fright.

"What is it, Dobby?" Hermione asked urgently. "Harry's safe there. It was too dangerous for him to come with us to Hogsmeade. Snape sent him a letter! He said so."

But before Hermione had finished her sentence, Dobby was already shaking his head, the corners of his eyes filling with tears.

"Oh, no," he moaned. "No, no, it's a trap! They wanted to wait until Harry Potter was alone in the castle, with no teachers and no friends! Then they are going to find him and kill him!"

"Who's going to kill him?" demanded Hermione. "How are they going to get into the castle? How do you know this?"

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is coming back!" squeaked Dobby. "She's prepared everything for them! She has confessed everything to Dobby!"

It was all Ron could do to keep from grabbing Dobby by the apron and shaking him.

"Who, Dobby?" he demanded. "Who's she?"

Tears ran down Dobby's cheeks. "Winky, sir. Winky has been working for them, helping them all along. Winky has betrayed Harry Potter, sir; Winky has betrayed us all!"

***

Ginny watched as Catherine reluctantly left and went downstairs to join her boyfriend, leaving her alone in their room. She walked over to a mirror in front of her bed and for the first time in ages, took the time to comb the knots out of her long, curly hair, occasionally feeling the warm mid-morning sun kiss the side of her face and a pleasant breeze blow the curtain of their open window to and fro.

Her eyes moving back and forth to make sure that no one was entering the room, Ginny took out her wand and enchanted her lips to match the color of her ginger hair. Ginny studied herself for a moment and then flicked her wand again, changing her lipstick to bright pink. But this still didn't seem right. She waved her wand again and the lipstick disappeared entirely. No, not that either.

Ginny looked at herself for a moment before her eyes widened in a sudden inspiration. She reached under her bed and fished quickly in the bottom of her Hogwarts trunk before emerging with a faded blue cylinder that fit in the palm of her hand. Muggle lipstick. A present her father had given her some years before. Ginny yanked the two sides of the cylinder open, surprised at how easily they separated. She then pursed her lips and after some hesitation applied the strawberry-colored lipstick to her lips, noting with pleasure that it smudged slightly in the corner in a way that the preciseness of wand magic could not have. Ginny wondered whether Harry would like that sort of thing. She, Ginny, thought it was cool.

Ginny looked at herself again and sighed. She knew better than to practice lines in front of a mirror but her mind went back to the lonely girl who had promised to her reflection on the Hogwarts Express that she would try to become Harry's friend. That Ginny would have been pleased to have found out how far she had gotten. But nearly a year older, this Ginny knew that it wasn't really enough, that perhaps it never had been.

Ginny tried to ignore the knotted sensation that stymied her knees like a half-formed jinx. She forced herself up, opened the door, and walked out to the top of the staircase above the common room. She knew that an anxious, fearful part of her hoped that Harry would be gone. But there he was, sitting alone, feeding his pet and gazing absently at the table top in front of him. Ginny drew a deep breath and started to walk down the stairs. She knew what she to say. And when she was finished, all the years of questions and doubts would finally end.

One way or the other.

***

The crystal glowed brighter and moved faster, its signal triggered by the end of a flawlessly mixed potion in the dark corner of the Forbidden Forest. The house-elf called Winky had prepared the seven places around the table, just as she had been told to. And now these seats slowly began to fill, at first with ghost-like apparitions but then with more tangible forms. Finally, as the whitish-blue light of the crystal turned so fast it seemed to shine out from all directions at once, six grown Death Eaters in cloaks and masks appeared in the six seats which ringed the small table and one dark-cloaked mask-less figure materialized at its head.

If Hermione Granger had been present, she might have argued herself into hysterics that she was seeing the impossible. No one could apparate inside of Hogwarts. No one could even dare. But on this day, a magic much stronger and darker than anything Hermione could dare to imagine, much less try, had broken through the old magic that protected Hogwarts just as surely as it had Number 4 Privet Drive.

The dark cloaked figure withdrew his hood. Lord Voldemort allowed himself a thin smile at his Death Eaters. He took the diary out of his pocket and placed it on the table in front of him, letting it bathe in the glow of the crystal. He let his fingers run over the large gaping hole in the center where Harry Potter had once plunged the basilisk fang through its core. But though free from its original spell, the diary was now a conduit, a talisman for a much powerful magic than Tom Riddle would ever have known about.

Voldemort's smile widened as he felt Ginny's mind as surely as if he were touching it with his own fingers. The signal was now strong, much stronger than it had been when Voldemort had been forced to link to Ginny from further away. She would not feel any pain today, save that of her own choosing. She would not have any idea how intimately the Dark Lord was intruding on her mind.

Not, that was, until it was much, much too late.

"They are together, Potter and Weasley?" came the dulcet tones of the Dark Lord's most faithful servant from behind a mask to his left.

Voldemort smiled and nodded slowly.

"I can sense her fear, Severus," he hissed, his eyes closed as if enjoying the perfect chords of a symphony. "I know it so well. She would not be afraid were she not truly with him. She fears I will find her, a fear that runs much deeper than her conscious thoughts will allow her to know."

There was a fidgeting and shuffling to Voldemort's right.

"What is it, Wormtail?" asked Voldemort, not opening his eyes or taking his hand off the diary. "You may speak. You have done well and for that you have Lord Voldemort's gratitude."

The Death Eater fidgeted even more. "My Lord," came a breathless, whimpering voice. "Why don't we kill the boy now, now that they are together, now that you know where they are. S - surely it will be easier?"

Voldemort shook his head. "Easier, Wormtail, but not better. You can relax. She will not leave him soon. The Dark Lord knows this about her. Rest assured, Wormtail, before the sun has reached its full height, Harry Potter and his would-be girlfriend will be dead and Hogwarts will belong to us."