The Silent Siege

Chapter 5

Plans and Revelations

It was with great reluctance that Madam Pomfrey gave Harry a clean bill of health and allowed him to leave. Once gone, Harry half-walked, half-trotted across the lawn to await his fellow Gryffindor and Ravenclaw sixth-years near Hagrid's hut. Hagrid looked to be in the middle of explaining the properties of a fluffy bright orange creature about the size of a dog with a nose shaped like a giant trumpet. The creature kept blowing horn-like sounds into the air while Hagrid was holding it, making it very difficult to hear whatever he was trying to explain. It was impossible to tell whether the creature was indignant, nervous, or simply happy.

Hagrid caught sight of Harry and waved to him. He then tried to continue with the lecture but within seconds found himself overcome with emotion. He soon broke down in wrenching sobs that rivaled the trumpet-like creature in noise.

"I can' go on," he finally told the other students. "It's too much."

The Gryffindors and Ravenclaws tried not to sound too relieved at the premature end of class, but rapidly made their way back to the castle, several shaking their heads and scratching their ears on the way out. Ron and Hermione stayed.

"Yeh better take Beethoven." Hagrid handed the bright orange creature to Ron and drew Harry into a bone-crushing embrace.

"Thought yeh'd died." Hagrid wailed on.

"It's all right, Hagrid," Harry managed as he felt his skull being crushed.

Hagrid finally let go of Harry and blew his nose loudly into an enormous handkerchief. "Come on in ter the hut," he said. "I'll make yeh all some tea."

Ron, Harry, and Hermione accompanied Hagrid into his hut and sat down to enjoy a surprisingly good tea and some unsurprisingly awful rock cakes. Hagrid wanted to hear the whole story from Harry. Ron and Hermione were a little anxious that he would have to relive it but somehow for Hagrid, Harry didn't seem to mind. Ron added the part about his and Hermione's encounter with Malfoy in the hallway.

"Rotten ter the core, the whole lot of 'em," Hagrid said of the Malfoys. "An' ol' Lucius gettin' his way out o' prison and the Ministry hushin' it up an' all. These are dark times, they are. At least Dumbledore's back and that Umbridge woman's gone, though. Great man, Dumbledore. Found out about Grawp, he did. Reckon bloody Filch went an' told 'im. Thought he'd make 'im leave but he wouldn't 'ere anything of it."

"He let you keep that - that - "

Ron was cut short by the vicious shove of Hermione's elbow in his ribs.

"How is Grawp, Hagrid?" asked Hermione tentatively. "All those arrows from the Centaurs - "

Hagrid waved a dismissive hand.

"It don' matter teh him. Like little pins, they were, 's far as he was concerned. No, he's doin' much better now. Learned to talk a bit now, he has. Still hopin' to find him a mate. Been asking about you Hermione, he has." Hagrid smiled. "Wonders when you're goin' to see 'im."

"Oh, really?" asked Hermione, trying to conceal the unease in her voice.

"Hagrid," said Harry, looking to change the subject. "Do you know who the new headmaster is?"

"I do, o' course," replied Hagrid, "but can' tell yeh, I'm afraid."

"Oh, come on, Hagrid," said Ron. "You can tell anything to us."

"An' a lot o' trouble that's put yeh all in, I can tell yeh. No, no, not this time. Yeh'll find out tonight at the feast. Yeh got ter trust Dumbledore; he knows what he's doin.'"

They talked a little while longer and then Hagrid looked at his watch.

"Blimey! Is that the time? Yeh lot better be goin' on, yeh'll be late for yeh next class! What is it?"

"History of Magic," groaned Ron.

Harry let out a groan in kind. At least he might be able to get some sleep.

"Oh, good," replied Hermione, hastily gathering her things. "I've been meaning to ask him a question about the new Goblin Rebellions book I bought over the summer. I'm sure there's a mistake on page 433."

"Yeh migh' find today's class a little more interesting than yeh think," said Hagrid, rubbing his hands.

"Don't tell me you want me to take Beethoven along," said Ron.

"Yeh'll find out," was all that Hagrid said and then ushered them out of the door and back along the grounds to class.

Hermione led the way back up through the main entrance and the now familiar staircase to the History of Magic classroom. Ron and Harry had to struggle to keep pace.

"Hold on, Hermione," said Ron, stifling a yawn.

"Honestly, Hermione," said Harry, yawning himself. "I don't know where you get your energy from."

"It's a new day of classes!" replied Hermione, as if this should make it obvious. "You must at least be a little excited to be taking new lessons after a whole summer of holidays."

"No," replied Ron flatly, yawning again.

"Why are you two so tired, anyway?" asked Hermione.

Harry didn't say anything for a moment. Then he muttered: "I couldn't get much sleep last night."

Harry couldn't help but notice Ron and Hermione exchanging slightly nervous glances.

"I couldn't sleep a wink last night either," said Ron, trying to change the subject, but instantly regretting it.

"And why was that?" asked Hermione, a slight hint of disapproval in her voice.

Harry watched Ron as he turned back to look at Hermione and for an instant he could have sworn there was an expression of menace on his face. Then he looked back down to the ground and said:

"I - I just couldn't get to sleep. Just thinking about things. It's nothing. I'll tell you later," he said to Harry although it was Hermione who had asked the question.

Suddenly, Harry felt like it was his turn to try and change the direction of the conversation.

"I thought we didn't have to take History of Magic this year."

Ron, Harry, and Hermione had all received the news over the summer that they had passed their O.W.Ls in the required subjects necessary for their interests. Neither Ron nor Harry had been able to believe that they had managed to secure the necessary "Outstanding" in Potions and both were certain that Snape would find it even less believable than they did. But when McGonagall had told Harry the required N.E.W.T. subjects he needed to advance as an auror-in-training, he was sure that they hadn't included History of Magic, not to mention that both he and Ron had failed their History of Magic O.W.Ls abysmally despite Hermione's help.

"Well," said Ron hesitatingly. "There was a bit of flap about that over the summer. I didn't want to tell you, mate, thought you had enough your mind as it was."

"It seems that a senior Ministry official thought that Bartholomew the Bearded was the name of a number by The Weird Sisters," said Hermione, slightly contemptuously.

"Funny, I thought that, too," remarked Ron.

Hermione sighed despairingly.

"At any rate," said Ron. "After all the row died down, we all got landed with Educational Decree Number Twenty-nine. All future Ministry employees, regardless of position, have to take at least one year of N.E.W.T. history."

"Fortunately for the pair of you, Binns doesn't set a very high requirement for his N.E.W.T. class so even those with scores as low as yours will be able to get in."

Harry and Ron exchanged an old-fashioned glance.

"It was that Skeeter woman who came out with the article," said Ron. "Couldn't you have exercised some influence on her, Hermione?"

Hermione held her nose up in the air ever so slightly.

"I didn't want to. I think it's quite right what she wrote this time. It's ignorance of history that leads the powerful to control the weak. Take the house elves for instance - "

Ron groaned.

"Harry," said Hermione, frowning suddenly. "Did you say Professor Dumbledore told you you'd be having extra Defense lessons?"

"Yeah," said Harry, a little uncertainly. "That's what it sounded like he said, anyway."

"I wonder why he didn't want you to continue with your Occlumency lessons?"

"That's easy," replied Ron. "He knew they didn't work, didn't he? I mean ol' Snape wouldn't have it, would he?"

"Still, there must still be a danger, I would have thought. I mean you still haven't really learned how to block out You-Know-Who's thoughts, have you? What if he tried to possess you again?"

"I don't know." Harry shrugged. "I'm sure Dumbledore must know what he's doing. I'm just glad I don't have to put up with all that this year, that's all."

Hermione still didn't look particularly satisfied but Ron turned to Harry and said:

"Anyway, mate, with your extra Defense lessons and all, I expect DA classes will be even better this year. You can pass on what you've learned and all."

"I don't think so," said Harry bluntly. "I don't think there'll be a DA this year. After all, we only formed it because of Umbridge and now she's gone."

Hermione and Ron both looked at Harry in surprise.

"But, Harry," said Hermione. "The Death Eaters are bound to be more active now. I'm sure everyone will still want all the help they can get!"

"Look," said Harry shortly. He stopped walking and turned around to look at Ron and Hermione. He could feel anger start to well up inside of him again but he took a deep breath and forced it down. He did not want a repeat of the events of the previous night.

"Look," he said again, a little more calmly. "We've got a decent Defense teacher this year, someone Dumbledore appointed himself, a retired auror. I'd rather the DA class concentrate on their lessons with him than learning from an N.E.W.T. student. What do I know anyway?" he mumbled and started to walk forward again slowly.

Ron and Hermione started to walk with him and did not say anything more though Harry was sure they had other things still on their minds. He was still thinking about their broken conversation and did not notice when a tall blond blur cannoned into him and knocked him down to the ground.

Draco Malfoy stood over Harry, flanked by his twin bodyguards Crabbe and Goyle, who laughed at Harry's predicament.

"Careful, Potter," said Malfoy. "I heard you found your way back onto the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Wouldn't do to lose those dodging instincts."

Hermione raised her thick History of Magic book in her hand like a weapon. "You did that deliberately."

Malfoy smiled. "Just trying to help Potter get into shape."

Ron flung his books to the floor and walked over to Malfoy, sticking his chest out. "I thought I warned you, Malfoy."

"I thought I warned you, Weasley," said Malfoy, as Harry got to his feet, his eyes stinging with malice. "I'll have to report your insubordination. I'm a prefect, don't forget." He pointed to his breast and flashed a shiny badge in Ron's face.

Ron laughed. "Report my insubordination? To whom? You can't report me."

Hermione walked over and shook her head incredulously. "We're prefects, too, or did you forget?"

"But for how much longer?" said Malfoy, flashing Hermione a satisfied smile. "I think you should be careful, Granger. Things are going to change around here very soon."

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Ron.

But Malfoy just laughed and walked away down the corridor with Crabbe and Goyle in tow.

Ron and Harry moved to follow him and Hermione held them back. "Ignore him. Ignore him," she said. "He'll get what he deserves one day soon. Come on, we're going to be late."

Hermione led Harry and Ron to the History of Magic classroom. The class had indeed already started but Professor Binns did not seem to notice their lateness. Their only ghost teacher was droning on about the twelfth century troll wars. Ron kept dropping to sleep and snoring next to Harry who kept elbowing him in the ribs to wake up. Even Hermione found it difficult to feign attention for very long and she soon found her eyelids drooping heavily. Professor Binns had a way of sucking all of the energy out of even the most well-rested person. Harry wished that Binns could be around to tell him bedtime stories when he needed to sleep at night.

"My," said Professor Binns suddenly, his tone of voice not wavering from his usual monotone. "Is that the time?"

This caused mild interest among the students. Harry saw Neville checking his watch to see whether it was truly the end of class only to find that it had gone missing.

"We still have about ten minutes left," declared Professor Binns, as if in answer. "And it's time for me to turn to today's special announcement."

And then to everyone's surprise, Professor Binns, for the first time in anyone's memory, got up from his desk behind the classroom and sat down casually on a non-existent chair just in front of the first row of desks.

And then his face broke into a prunish smile. This most remarkable set of circumstances had gotten everyone's attention. Even Ron sat up, now wide-awake.

"You're all in for a special treat this year," Binns said. "Who can tell me who Henrietta Handsdowne was?"

Professor Binns never fielded questions from the class. The last time anyone had spoken was when Hermione had asked a question about the Chamber of Secrets three years ago. It was Hermione who raised her hand again this time.

"Yes, miss, er," Binns went back to his desk to fumble through a parchment with a list of student names. "Miss, er, McGonagall. No, that's an old list. Let me see - " Binns went behind his desk to look through some more yellowing papers.

"Granger, sir," replied Hermione. "Hermione Granger."

"Yes," said Binns, smiling again. "Miss Granger, of course. Go on."

"Henrietta Handsdowne was the witch who sided with Guy Fawkes and his fellow conspirators during the gunpowder plot to blow up the British Parliament, in protest of the king's anti-Catholic and anti-wizard policies. Her name is usually left out of official Muggle histories of the event. They were also rumored to be romantically involved. Fawkes eventually abandoned her for another woman and then she refused to take her part in the uprising. The event was considered significant because, had the conspirators succeeded, it would have been the first time that wizard-kind had used violence against the Muggle state which had so often persecuted it."

"Very good, Miss Granger, very good," said Binns and Hermione beamed. "Ten points to Hufflepuff." Binns then looked up wistfully at the ceiling, not noticing that Hermione's smile had abruptly disappeared. "Of course, it was I who had to console her when Fawkes was eventually captured."

Hermione could swear she saw a little color rise in Binns' cheeks - if such a thing were possible - as he seemed to lose himself in an ancient memory. The students looked around to each other in astonishment. Just how long ago was it that Binns had lived?

Professor Binns suddenly snapped back to attention. "Well, now, yes," he said. "I shan't keep any of you in suspense much longer. This year, on Guy Fawkes night, Henrietta Handsdowne herself - well her ghost, of course - will be coming here to Hogwarts!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione shrugged and exchanged glances.

"Is that what Hagrid thought we should be so keyed up about?" whispered Ron.

"And," added Binns. "She and I, along with the other Hogwarts ghosts, will be hosting a fireworks display followed by..." Binns paused for dramatic effect, "a Guy Fawkes ball!"

This time there were genuine murmurs of interest in the class. Harry could hear Parvati and Lavender tittering behind him.

"Now, of course, all you lads will have to invite a young lady. Don't be shy." He unexpectedly walked over to Ron and tried to nudge him playfully on the shoulder but his fist went right through. "Of course, I'm afraid we won't have any of those modern dances you young people go in for. What is it called, the lindy hop?"

Harry looked at Ron baffled, but Ron just shrugged, none the wiser himself.

"We will be playing the period music of the time," Binns continued. "Henrietta herself, who was quite a singer in the day, will accompany The Ghostly Ghoul Orchestra, who performed the lament at her funeral." He sighed. "I just hope all of you realize what a rare thing is for them to consent to play for those outside the non-corporeal community. Well," he looked at his watch. "Now I'm afraid it is really time to go. Don't forget I expect a report on the Troll Wars Treaty by Wednesday! And, gentlemen," he added. "Don't leave it too late to ask those ladies; two months can go by much sooner than you think!" Binns disappeared through the blackboard.

"The Ghostly Ghoul Orchestra?" said Ron as he walked out of the classroom with Harry and Hermione and in the direction of the Great Hall for lunch.

"Well, you never know," said Hermione. "It's certainly different." She frowned. "I suppose I'd better try to talk to him tomorrow about getting Gryffindor's points back away from Hufflepuff."

"I shouldn't worry, Hermione," said Harry. "Since he thinks McGonagall is still a student, it might be a little hard for him to make a report."

The trio entered the Great Hall led by Ron, who was eager to eat, having slept through breakfast. Harry couldn't help notice a slight frown form on Hermione's face as generous helpings of food found their way magically onto their plates.

"Slave labor, slave labor," Harry could swear she heard her muttering under her breath. Harry suddenly remembered his conversation with Winky and wondered whether he should bring it up, then decided against it.

"So," said Hermione, reluctantly nibbling at a roast potato. "Who's everyone inviting to the ball then?"

"Don't know yet," replied Ron, his mouth full of chicken and beans.

"Didn't you hear Binns?" retorted Hermione. "There's only two months to go and you did leave it a bit to the last minute last time."

"We've only just found out," complained Ron. "Go on, then, tell me who you're inviting."

"I'm not going, at least, not to dance that is," replied Hermione matter-of-factly.

Ron and Harry looked up in surprise.

"I thought you said it would be interesting," said Harry.

"I did and it will." A shrewd smile came over Hermione's face. She moved her half-eaten plate to one side and took out a small box with the letters S.P.E.W. written in black quill on the outside.

"Haven't you given that up yet?" asked Ron.

"No," replied Hermione defiantly. Her eyes narrowed. "We've had a few setbacks in the past, I admit."

"Chief among them being the house elves' reluctance to be liberated," quipped Ron.

Hermione glared at him. "But this year we're going to get militant. This Guy Fawkes Ball has given me an excellent idea."

Ron and Harry stared at each other again.

"Hermione," said Harry. "You're not going to crash this party, are you?"

Hermione didn't quite look Harry directly in the eye as she replied. "Crash is such a strong word. We're going to make everyone aware. They'll have to realize that the party, this food, everything they enjoy at Hogwarts is owed to the tireless, thankless labor of the house elves. I'm sorry to have to tell you both this." She looked up at Harry and Ron. "But I'm afraid the pair of you haven't made the best treasurer and secretary. Fortunately, I've managed to recruit some new assistants this year."

As if on cue, Neville Longbottom and Colin Creevey walked up just behind Hermione's chair.

"Oh, good," said Hermione, smiling. She took two sheets of parchment from out of the holder and handed them to Neville and Colin. "Please make sure that these are magico-graphed into forty copies to be distributed to the elves. And I've had another new idea," she added, a little bossily, Harry thought. "Would six o'clock tonight be convenient for us to convene another meeting?"

Neville and Colin just nodded.

"Good," replied Hermione. "I shan't keep you then."

Neville and Colin nodded again and walked off to their seats.

"I see," remarked Ron. "Students without dates."

This time even Harry thought that Ron had gone a little too far. He also wasn't sure quite why Ron was interested in goading Hermione quite so much. Colin had actually grown quite tall and with his shock of curly blond hair was beginning to attract a lot of attention although admittedly he seemed oblivious to it. Even Neville had grown a little thinner around the face this year although Harry wasn't sure he was any less clumsy or nervous.

Hermione angrily shut the box and stared at Ron. "Well, then. In that case, it seems you'll be joining us after all. Now that Fleur Delacour has left the campus, it doesn't seem you'll have much choice."

Ron moved his mouth up and down but no sound came out. Finally, his face flushed red and he turned to Harry and said:

"Go on, then, Harry, who are you going to ask?"

Harry finished chewing his carrots and peas, and then answered. "No one," he said, matter-of-factly.

If this had been a ploy to distract Hermione's attention, then Ron had certainly succeeded. Both of them forgot about their argument and exchanged uneasy glances.

It was Ron who replied first. "Really, mate, I know it's not the easiest thing in the world to ask a girl to the dance, but, you know, it'll be fun and I - I mean, well, I always thought Cho wasn't the best choice for you but I'm sure there's lots of other girls who will go with you, Harry." Ron cupped his hand to his face as soon as he had finished. That had definitely not come out the way he had planned.

"I don't want to," replied Harry, more in resignation than anger. "I don't about whether some stupid girl fancies me anymore. I'm past that sort of thing. None of it matters now that Sirius is gone."

Ron and Hermione looked at each other again. They knew better than to ask what the Guy Fawkes ball had to do with Sirius. But Hermione finally said: "Harry, maybe this ball is just what you need to take your mind off things."

"What makes you think I want to take my mind off things?" asked Harry, a dangerously dark look in his eyes.

"Well - " Ron started.

Whatever response he had managed to think up was lost in a sudden outburst that emerged from somewhere to their left.

"You're going to miss the ball because of some stupid football game?"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione along with most of the Gryffindor table turned their heads to see Ginny, her face flushed red, waving a fork menacingly at Dean Thomas.

"It's the West Ham opener!" Dean was protesting. "My Dad got tickets ages ago! It's not my fault it's on the same night!"

"And you wouldn't even think of canceling - or changing?" replied Ginny lividly. "They play a bloody football game every day - "

"Every week," corrected Dean.

"Every day! Every week! Who cares? We haven't had a ball here in two years!"

"I was going to invite you as well, you know!" said Dean, his voice rising to the occasion. "It was going to be a surprise!"

Hermione's face creased anxiously as Ron tried to edge closer to Ginny and Dean's side of the table and began looking at Dean with growing menace.

"I don't want to go some stupid football game!" retorted Ginny. "I've had it up to here with football!" She waved her fork dangerously in the air, causing Seamus, who was sitting to her right, to move quickly backwards into Ginny's roommate Amanda.

"I finally have a boyfriend to go to the ball with and he doesn't even want to ask me!"

Ron started to get up from his chair.

"Ron!" said Hermione. "She can look after herself!"

Ron ignored her.

"It's not that I don't want to ask you!" shouted Dean.

"Well, that's what it sounds like," replied Ginny, starting to sob.

She got up from her chair, half her food left untouched.

"Excuse me," she said more quietly. "I don't think I'm very hungry."

And tears streaming down her face, Ginny quickly ran past Ron and out to the door at the other end of the door.

Ron started to walk toward Dean.

There was a loud crash as Hermione smashed her bowl onto the floor.

This attracted even Harry's attention who, previous to this, had been content to eat his lunch as if nothing was going on around him. For a moment, he thought that Hermione was furious and wondered why but as Ron's head snapped suddenly around to see the source of the noise, Hermione looked back at him with a falsely innocent expression on her face:

"Oh, oh, I'm really sorry," she said. "I must have been distracted." She smiled ingratiatingly at Ron. "Will you ask that house elf over there to come and help me clean it up?"

Harry raised an eyebrow.

Ron looked back and forth between Dean, who was still struggling to call after a rapidly retreating Ginny, and the house elf who was beginning to clear tables in the opposite direction.

"Please," said Hermione with an uncharacteristically flattering smile.

Looking back and forth quickly between Dean and the house elf in obvious indecision, Ron finally walked over to the elf, shooting a final dirty look at Dean which he completely missed.

Hermione sighed wearily.

"Honestly," she said to Harry. "Boys!"

Harry shrugged.

***

Ginny took two angry steps at a time as she marched up to Gryffindor Tower. She knew there was only one thing that was going to take her mind off Dean Thomas and that was Quidditch. Not some stupid Muggle game with balls and feet. A real, wizard game played in the sky. Not that Dean would understand. She only hoped the Slytherin team would be trying to practice at the same time and have a go at her. Then she could really get rid of some frustration.

Ginny had reached the top floor of classrooms and turned the corner to the corridor that led to the staircases up to Gryffindor Tower when she had a second thought. What if Amanda and Catherine were up there waiting to tell her to make it up to Dean? Or even worse, what if Ron was waiting with some kind of lecture prepared? No, she realized, she'd better make herself as scarce as possible.

Since it was still lunch time, Ginny decided to simply duck into the vacant classroom on the left. She was certain no one would still be inside or that anyone who was would be busy studying. She found an empty seat next to a girl reading a newspaper and buried her head in her arms as if doing so could make her invisible.

Ginny had just realized that the girl had been reading her newspaper upside down when a voice to her left said dreamily:

"Hello, Ginny. I expect you've come to borrow my paper again. I can arrange a subscription for you quite easily, you know. Oh dear, Ginny, why ever are you making those horrible breathing noises? You're not ill, are you?"

Ginny clenched her fists under the desk where Luna could not see them.

"No - Luna," she said, trying hard to keep her teeth clenched. "I - just - wanted - to - be - alone - for - a - few - minutes."

"Oh, yes," said Luna chattily. "I know just how you feel. No one comes in here at lunch time at all, you know. I like to sit in here and read my paper."

"Right, Luna, so don't let me bother you. I'll just - "

Ginny started to stand up and was surprised when Luna suddenly took hold of her arm and peered up into her face as if she expected to see someone else hiding behind it.

"Why, Ginny," she said finally. "You've been crying. You ought to tell someone about it, you know. I cried for months after my mother died and it all went down to my chest. I got horribly sick after that."

Ginny stared at Luna for a moment, then found herself sinking slowly back into her chair.

"That's it." Luna looked at Ginny and smiled. "Now, whatever's the matter?"

"I - it's nothing, really," said Ginny, still a little flattened by Luna's nonchalant admission of her own more serious grief. "It's just Dean. His father got tickets for a football game for the same day as the Guy Fawkes ball. I suppose I shouldn't have gotten angry, really." Ginny sighed. "After all, his father got the tickets long before he ever found out about the ball."

"Do you want to go and apologize to him?" Luna's large eyes seemed to pierce into Ginny's.

"No," said Ginny suddenly then let out a small gasp. "I - I mean - I suppose I should - it's just - "

Luna smiled. "You don't really want to, do you? I'm not surprised. I was expecting you to say something like this sooner or later."

Ginny suddenly felt her anger start to return.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Ever since I read about it in yesterday's Quibbler."

"You read about me and Dean?" Ginny asked incredulously. "Rita Skeeter isn't still - "

Luna shook her head and laughed.

"Not you and Dean. The Quibbler published a list of animal mates."

Ginny looked back at Luna blankly.

"Every person has an animal spirit, their soul in a past life? Didn't you know?"

Ginny shrugged and shook her head.

"Oh, dear," said Luna. "Most people go through life not knowing their animal spirit. It's very sad." She sighed. "Fortunately, I seem to be able to see into others' past forms. I have ever since my mother died. That's why I always keep my head in the paper when I'm on a train. It's very disconcerting to look all around you and find a crowd full of animals."

Ginny nodded slowly, regarding Luna very cautiously.

"A - and so what's my animal spirit?"

Ginny expected Luna to hesitate but she said very quickly.

"You're a Spiny-footed Kuku bird, they're very rare."

"Why am I not surprised? Let me guess, they're invisible."

"Only during the daytime," said Luna, matter-of-factly. "The Spiny-footed Kuku bird lives only a remote magical island in the Irish Sea."

"And, so, what's its mate?"

"Oh, that's easy. I would have known that even before I started reading the feature in The Quibbler. The Spiny-footed Kuku bird's mate is the Grubbly-horned Sand Swiper. It's very lazy and spends most of its time lying down in the sand disguised as a coconut. It gets up at night and makes a horrible sort of snorting noise while it hunts, then goes back to sleep again. The female Spiny-footed Kuku bird knows that the Grubbly-horned Sand Swiper is really its mate and so every spring it strides around proudly hoping the Grubbly-horned Sand Swiper will notice but it never does. Then one night, the Grubbly-horned Sand Swiper spins a spell and discovers that it was a male Spiny-footed Kuku bird in disguise all along."

"And then what happens?"

Luna looked at Ginny as though she was slightly slow.

"Well, then it gets into the nest with its mate and they lay lots of eggs together."

Ginny found that her face had turned red in spite of herself.

"I don't suppose Dean is a Grubbly-horned Sand Swiper?"

Luna shook her head and laughed.

"Oh, no. There's only one Grubbly-horned Sand Swiper I can think of in the school."

"And who's that?"

"Harry."

Ginny started to cough.

"H- H - Harry? You must be joking."

"I'm afraid not." Luna sighed. "It is a bit of pity, though. I had rather fancied him for myself, I admit. And then there's your brother - he's a giraffe - but we don't seem fated either."

"You don't have to listen to what some stupid newspaper says," Ginny said suddenly. "If you just told Harry, maybe he'd just - "

But Luna was already shaking her head.

"I'm afraid that wouldn't help either of us very much, Ginny," she said seriously. "Don't worry, though. I've found out who my real mate is. I was very surprised."

Luna smiled a little madly and returned her attention to her newspaper.

"Well," said Ginny, clearing her throat. "That was very - interesting, Luna. I - I think I'll go and get ready for class now." She got up from her seat.

Luna, who seemed to have become engrossed in an article about a Ministry plot to transfigure Hogwarts into a giant gingerbread house, did not respond and so Ginny got up and left the room still shaking her head as she did so.

***

Hermione had managed to get Harry and Ron to agree to play Wizard Chess for the remainder of the hour to get their minds away from Sirius and Dean respectively. This seemed to be working for Ron but it was obvious that Harry's mind was still elsewhere as he had been beaten badly in all three games. By the time they had finished it was time for the trio to pack their things up and journey down the moving staircases into the bowels of the school faced with the dismal prospect of double N.E.W.T. potions. The only consolation Hermione took from this was that at least Snape had a way of bringing wayward minds back to attention more effectively than Wizard Chess.

Even their trip down to the dungeons was fraught with setbacks. The staircases seemed to be shifting even more now than usual. Then, running down the last staircase, dangerously close to the time class was scheduled to begin, the trio ran into Peeves, who had erected a barricade of chairs and tables from a vacant classroom and refused to move them unless Ron, Hermione, and Harry provided him with a "password" that only Peeves himself seemed to know. Finally, Ron and Harry levitated an opening through the chairs and tables which then fell back into place with a loud crash and the trio moved through, ignoring Peeves' protests.

Running hard to the dungeons, now two minutes late, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sure that Gryffindor would move into the unenviable position of having negative points on the very first day. As they rounded the last corridor to the front of the classroom, they expected to hear Snape's intimidating drawl from inside but all that could be heard was the clatter of their own footsteps. Finally, as they reached the entrance, they could see a small scroll hanging in the air outside the classroom.

Ron snatched the parchment up. He was about to start reading when it flew out of his hands and transfigured into the ghostly likeness of Professor Snape.

Ron let go and gasped, taking a step backwards into Harry and Hermione.

"All students are hereby notified that there will be no Potions lessons this week," the ghostly Snape muttered. "Students will be informed when class is to be held again. In order to make up for time lost, you are expected to read the entire first volume of Potente Poisons and their Antidotes by Gwendola Grim. And I should be careful with any pumpkin juice at dinner time." Snape's mouth curled up in a sneer. "You never know when I might decide to see whether you have been keeping up."

Ron gulped.

"By the way," Snape went on. "Whichever students have just accessed this message arrived five minutes late for class. Five points will be deducted for each of you from your respective houses."

"How's he going to know who we are?"

No sooner had the question left Ron's lips than the image of Snape transfigured itself again into a camera which snapped an unflattering photograph of the trio. Hermione turned around, her heart sinking as she saw the clock on the wall behind them which clearly showed that it was five minutes past two.

"Well," said Ron, as the camera transfigured itself back into a floating parchment, "It could be worse then, couldn't it?" He grinned. "A whole week with no Snape. Maybe he's been sent on assignment by Dumbledore. Maybe he's ill."

Ron's smile faded as he noticed the uneasy expressions on Harry and Hermione's faces.

"I don't know, Ron," said Harry, a nasty suspicion forming in his mind. "I have a bad feeling about this."

"Don't tell me your scar's hurting?"

"No," said Harry queasily, "but my stomach is."

***

A cool autumn breeze blew over the entrance to a small cave along the other side of the ridge from the southern edge of what those in the wizarding community would call the Forbidden Forest. For Jacob McClelland, they were just the woods past the farm that his family had owned for centuries. He remembered as a young boy sitting down around the kerosene lamps outside the old barn listening with his brothers and sisters as his father told the strange tales of old: about the goblins, wizards, and giants that lived in the forest and ate any children who went too near. He also remembered the vivid nightmares he had dreamed on the summer nights that his window was open and only the haunting sounds of the wind rustling the leaves on the trees in the forest could be heard. Jacob had grown up to tell the same stories to his own sons, and then to his grandchildren, but each generation had grown less interested; skepticism now took root at an earlier and earlier age. It seemed to Jacob that modern children had very little room left for wonder.

Jacob would like to have thought that nothing would change on this land; that his family would still continue to herd sheep over the rock-strewn highlands for generations, but he had known for a long time now that this would not be so. Neither his children nor his children's children had much time for farming. Both his sons had placed into university, one at St. Andrews, the other in Glasgow, much to the pride of their mother (god rest her soul). Jacob had known full well that they wouldn't come back. Both did well, of course: one became a lawyer, the other a university dean. Jacob's grandchildren had enjoyed visiting the country at first, though they often spoke about the funny way granddad talked, but as they got older (and not all that old) Nintendo started to take away their interest in the old stories. Jacob knew that after he died the farm and his sheep would be sold, though, he thought, with a chuckle to himself, whoever thought they could tame this land was welcome to try.

As he dragged his increasingly non-cooperative legs up the side of the mountain, Jacob was pulled away from his reflections momentarily when two or three of his sheep stopped at the mouth of the cave and started bleating persistently.

Jacob whistled. "Come on, you there; come on then," he ordered. "'Int nothin' in that ol' cave."

Two of the sheep lost interest and moved to follow the others up the mountainside but one kept bleating away and even stuck its head a little way inside.

"I said come on." Jacob flicked the long whip he was carrying and the animal grudgingly moved away from the mouth of the cave. The sheep finally followed Jacob further up the mountain and their bleating grew more and more distant.

"Fascinating animals, sheep," murmured an ownerless voice from inside the cave. "Only one of three creatures, along with bats and kangaroos, that can see right through an invisibility cloak."

There was another wizard in the cave listening to Dumbledore but he did not seem inclined to respond.

Dumbledore sighed and opened his mouth again, speaking in an even lower voice this time.

"I have, of course, received your report. You have arranged things at the school as I instructed?"

"I have," replied Snape.

Dumbledore leaned back in the cave thoughtfully for a moment, the hint of a weary smile on his lips. He did not speak for several moments, then said:

"It is, of course, a brilliant plan. Then, as I've said before, he always was brilliant."

Snape nodded slowly.

"Everyone running around after Potter, making sure he isn't passing out every five minutes, but no one, of course, would think to look out for the girl."

Dumbledore nodded in kind.

"You have a plan, I presume?" said Snape.

"I have," said Dumbledore, frowning as if in pain. "It is Andrew's plan, in fact."

Snape started.

"Do you trust Andrew?" he asked. "His plans have been known to be - "

Dumbledore shifted his penetrating eyes to look directly at Snape.

" - dangerous," he finished. "Yes, but Andrew has come to appreciate more than most the consequences of his actions. And I would trust him with my life as I trust everyone in my employ including you, Severus."

Snape stiffened.

"But, no," said Dumbledore, after another moment's pause. "It is not a safe plan; in fact, it is very, very dangerous, and if I thought there was another way I could stop him, I would. But I do not believe there is. There is no point in simply reacting to what he does now, Severus. The Ministry's delay continues to cost us dearly. The Dementors have already gone to him and I've no doubt it won't be long before the goblins, giants, and centaurs are persuaded to avenge their years of mistreatment by rallying to his cause. We have no choice but to trap him now once and for all using the very web through which he would weave to power against him. I fear that soon it will be already too late."

And so Dumbledore told Snape his plan, including both his own role and the part that he hoped Snape himself would play. The normally stoic Potions Master stared wide-eyed during Dumbledore's account but when he responded, his expression was still neutral.

"And you have told this to the other members of the Order?"

Snape wasn't sure if he was imagining things but for a moment he had the sense that Dumbledore was unable to meet his gaze.

"No," he said finally. "I feel it is best that only those directly involved in the plan be informed of its details. There is no need for unnecessary risk."

Snape smiled wryly.

"Lupin?" he asked.

Dumbledore sighed.

"He, too, has a part to play, but I have not told him all of the details."

"Molly and Arthur?" Snape asked quietly.

Dumbledore shook his head.

"I can't imagine they'd be very pleased."

The lines on Dumbledore's face seemed to harden slightly as if he could loosen and tighten them of his own accord.

"I doubt very much that they'll speak to me again but there are more serious issues here."

Snape nodded.

"I quite agree. And you won't tell Potter, of course?"

Dumbledore shook his head even more wearily.

"It is not his time, yet."

Snape drew in a breath.

"Still, headmaster, the risk. Can you be sure this is the right choice?"

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "I can be sure, Severus, because all of the alternatives are much, much worse. If you have a different plan, however," he said, in an almost defeated tone. "I would be very glad to hear it. I mean that in all sincer-"

Dumbledore suddenly broke off and frowned.

Snape looked up, his instincts aroused and his eyes sharp and searching like a hawk's.

"What is it?" he asked.

Dumbledore motioned for him to keep silent.

And then the sound of a voice filled the cave. It was the sheep farmer talking from somewhere up on the mountain behind them. And he was getting louder.

"What in the name of Jesus - Oi!" Jacob cried. "You lot! What d'ya lads think yeh doin'? This is private property. No trespassin'."

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"Answer me then?" came Jacob's voice, louder and more insistent. "What the hell yeh playin' at, dressed like that? 'S a bit early for Halloween now."

Silence again.

"What's that yeh got there? If yeh threatenin' me, I warn yeh - "

The last of Jacob's words seemed to die in his throat. There was a whooshing sound and then the sheep farmer let out a loud tormented scream ending in an ominous gurgle.

Jacob McClelland's childhood nightmares had finally caught up to him.

Dumbledore looked to Snape and saw that he was thinking the same thing. The Death Eaters had arrived.

***

Deep in a dark forest in a part of the world where it was already night, all was very quiet. The beautiful brilliant white unicorns who normally roamed the forest in large families had fled in fear to the outer reaches of the woods, risking detection by wizards and even Muggles.

For something deep within the forest was killing unicorns. Something dark, unseen, and unthinkable.

And at that very moment, the silence was deceptive. A unicorn lay on the ground, its powdery skin reflecting eerily in the moonlight. The unicorn no longer had the strength to cry out. It silently lifted its rear leg in a final protest and then felt its soul ebb away into darkness.

Panting and rasping for breath, Lord Voldemort bent over the slain unicorn and hungrily sunk his teeth into the animal's flesh, taking in huge gulps of its blood like a man about to die of thirst. Large globs of the silvery liquid dripped down the front of Voldemort's robes as he chewed further into the unicorn's neck, trying to break into its carotid artery.

No one, not his closest supporters, or even his snake Nagini, knew where the Voldemort was at this moment. And none would have recognized their master. Gone was the self-assured Dark Lord who controlled both his friends and foes in a delicate cocktail of loyalty and fear and in its place was a half-human monster who could not even control his own appetite. Voldemort no longer needed the animal's blood to survive as he had once done. He was strong, even stronger than ever. Moreover, he knew that with every drop of pure unicorn blood he ingested, he subjected himself to a cursed life.

But the truth was that Voldemort had grown used to it. There was a raw, animal power that coursed through his veins from brutally killing a unicorn and feeling its life's strength flow into him, a power that Voldemort could never completely gain from his subtle manipulations of the Death Eaters.

Finally, when he was sure that he had drunk every last ounce of the unicorn's life force, Voldemort sank back against the thick trunk of a dead tree, feeling the energy surge through his body like the jolt of an electric shock. Voldemort's pounding heart quieted slowly. Finally, when he had caught his breath again, Voldemort felt his feeling of power melt away, replaced by a loathing self-disgust that he could sink to such depths, that he could endanger the very power and immortality for which he had strived his whole life for a fleeting thrill.

But as Voldemort's sense of reason and calculation slowly returned, he realized that loathing his own frailties could serve no purpose. Manipulating himself as masterfully as he had manipulated others, Voldemort channeled all of his anger and disgust onto the person who had created his dependency in the first place, the person who had made it necessary for him to forage for unicorn blood when he was merely a parasite on the body of another, the person who had reduced him from the most powerful sorcerer wizard-kind had ever known to a creature on the edge of existence: Harry Potter.

Voldemort reached into the folds of his cloak and pulled out the diary he had once enchanted all those years ago. Tom Riddle had been shrewd beyond his sixteen years but his knowledge of magic had still been limited to that of a student. He had not known when he had enchanted the diary the limitations of the magic he had used. When, in later years, Riddle had discovered the diary's danger, he had simply recovered the book and hid it amongst his old school belongings, never to be used again, let alone found by anyone else.

But Voldemort had not counted on his own demise at the hands of a mere toddler. He had not imagined that his Death Eaters would go rifling through his personal belongings and that Lucius Malfoy would take control of the diary, ignorant to both its power and its danger, and use it for his own nefarious purposes. When Voldemort had regained strength and Malfoy had presented him with the destroyed diary, it had taken all of the Dark Lord's self-control not to annihilate him where he had stood.

As far as Malfoy had been concerned, the diary had been destroyed: the essence of what had once been the preserved memory of Tom Riddle had seeped out harmlessly onto the floor of the now-sealed Chamber of Secrets thanks, once again, to the meddlesome Harry Potter. But it was not for nothing that Voldemort had become the most powerful wizard ever. The magic of the diary might be gone but its torn pages still contained the secrets it once hid. For one as powerful as Voldemort, the past was not a barrier but merely a veil that could be lifted again with the right magic.

Few of even Voldemort's closest followers knew that the Dark Lord could hold a single pebble in his hand and learn not only whatever creature had walked over it for hundreds of years but also smell the air and taste the hopes and fears of those creatures as though they were his own. Every object in the universe, however dead, left a kind of magical imprint that could still be read if one was powerful enough to learn how. And Voldemort had made it his business to do so. For he had learned long before he had given up his Muggle father's name that whomever had knowledge also had power in equal sum.

It was a dangerous magic to be sure, and one that Voldemort did not practice lightly, but if there was one thing Voldemort could not tolerate it was ignorance and he knew full well that Malfoy had limited his account of the diary's adventures to what his own vanity could withstand.

And so Voldemort had taken the diary in his hands, run his fingers over its dusty broken pages, and opened up its secrets. He had learned, as his sixteen-year-old self had learned before him, of Ginny Weasley, the silly eleven-year-old girl who loved Harry Potter for all of the same reasons that Voldemort hated him. He had learned of Malfoy's ill-conceived plan to place the blame for the re-opening of the Chamber and its consequences on the girl's father, satisfying, in the process, his petty workplace grudge. And Voldemort had learned a great deal about Harry himself, the boy who spoke Parseltongue, whose ingenuity, nerve, and disregard for rules had led him to defeat Tom Riddle and violently destroy the diary's magic. It was a pity that Harry had chosen to work against Lord Voldemort for he would have made such a powerful ally.

Voldemort had known of the danger of the diary's magic and had hoped he could control it, but it was not until after he had devoured its secrets with the same appetite that he had consumed the unicorn's blood that Voldemort realized he had succumbed to the trap his younger self had unwittingly set. He was bonded to Ginny Weasley, not only her past but also her present self with all the dangers that such a crude link brought with it. If he was cautious enough, however, he could use the strength of the link without succumbing to any of its weaknesses.

Voldemort placed his hand over the diary, closed his eyes, and concentrated on Ginny. He could feel her memory flow from the diary into his mind. Then he tried to reach out further through the link to Ginny's present self, as he had every night in her dreams that summer.

But just as he could begin to make out the shadows of her conscious thought, Voldemort found himself blocked. He tried with all of the power at his disposal to go around the block, then through it, but finally he knew it was futile. He opened his eyes once again and allowed himself a smile. Of course, it would not do to underestimate Dumbledore too much. After his attempts to keep Harry safe in his home had been thwarted, Dumbledore had obviously found some way to reinforce the magic that kept Hogwarts safe from outside intrusion even when he himself was not present in the castle. It was no matter: Voldemort knew he could be very patient.

Voldemort's smile remained as he allowed himself the rare luxury to reflect on his own student days. He remembered as if from a distant existence the handsome prefect that had told only a few close friends of his true ambitions. His face had not always inspired fear and disgust. He was once handsome like Harry and he had attracted the attention of many girls just as weak minded as the pathetic Ginny. He had not been interested in any of them, of course; his thirsts could not be satisfied by any childish romance. He imagined Harry felt the same but it did not matter. He knew that Ginny would try to cling to Harry just as those tittering, giggling Slytherin girls had tried to cling to him so many years ago. She would know wherever Harry was. And once the link was opened, Voldemort would take all of the foolish hopes and dreams that Ginny and her family believed in so fervently and use them against her: she would lead Voldemort right to Harry without ever realizing what she had done.

And then Voldemort would kill him.