The Silent Siege

Chapter 7

Secrets Shared and Secrets Kept

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

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

"I don't know," said Harry. "He's let some pretty bad things go in the past. It seems too good to be true."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I don't know why you care so much," said Harry edgily.

Ron looked back up at him in surprise.

"Well, it just seems that you're always getting into her business. Why don't you give it a rest?"

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

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

***

Hermione pushed open the door to the vacant Potions classroom.

"Ginny?" she said tentatively.

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

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

Ginny shrugged.

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

"Ginny, what's going on?" said Hermione. "You look awful! You don't need to send me an owl to come and talk to me."

"Well, you're always busy now," said Ginny vacantly. "I was afraid that you wouldn't have time unless I said it was important."

"I'll always have time to talk to you, Ginny, you know that. Now what is it?"

Ginny sighed and looked down at the ground for a few moments, then back up at Hermione.

"Dean and I broke up," she said somberly.

"Oh, Ginny, I'm really sorry. Do you want me to talk to him? Maybe Harry - "

Ginny looked up at Hermione.

"No, you don't understand. It's over because I wanted it to be. I was the one who broke it up."

Hermione nodded slowly.

"I saw you fighting with him at lunch."

Ginny nodded.

"I know. Thank you for breaking the bowl. The last thing I wanted was Ron to get involved."

"I know, Ginny." Hermione paused. "But if you broke it up, what is it you wanted to talk to me about then?"

Ginny looked back down at the floor again nervously.

"Hermione, look," she said finally. "I wasn't too bothered breaking up with Michael. I didn't think he deserved me. But Dean - Dean was nice - is nice and he really liked me. I know I really hurt his feelings even though he won't say. I don't want to hurt someone like that again."

Hermione smiled sagely.

"But Ginny, no one wants to hurt anyone. I didn't want to hurt Viktor either but it just wasn't right for us and it obviously wasn't right for you and Dean either. He'll get over it. He's good-looking; I'm sure he'll find someone else in no time. You didn't mean to hurt him. You liked him a lot at first, I remember."

But Ginny was already shaking her head.

"I thought he was dishy but that's probably about as far as it ever really went."

"Well, so what? We all get carried away like that sometimes. I - "

But Ginny was shaking her head again.

"No, Hermione," she said, a little more forcefully, finally looking up at her. "You don't understand. I've been living a lie for the past two years. I didn't really care about Michael; I didn't really care about Dean either. I dated them because they made me feel good about myself. I didn't know it; I didn't want to admit it myself. But the truth is that I'm still in love with Harry."

Hermione's jaw dropped. All color seemed to drain from her face. Finally, after a moment of stunned silence, Hermione started to shake her head vigorously.

"No, no, no, Ginny. No, you're not. You can't be. You're over him, remember? We talked about this ages ago!"

"I know, Hermione. I thought I was over him but not that I know I'm not; maybe I never was."

And then Ginny added in a very small voice.

"Maybe I never will be."

"No," said Hermione again, some of her authoritative demeanor starting to return. "You're just - sensitive, right now, Ginny. You've just broken up with Dean and you're looking for acceptance. And God knows this isn't a very big school. You'll find someone else soon and then you'll forget all about - "

"No, Hermione," said Ginny determined. "I'm not going to forget about him. I know I'm not."

She felt on the point of telling Hermione about her nightmares. She knew they had something to do with this but it was just too much to bring herself to say it.

"Ginny, listen to me. This is a really bad time to be going after Harry. He's not interested in any kind of romance now. He told Ron and me yesterday that he was beyond those things now or something. And," Hermione's face creased in concern. "He's - he's unstable now. He slammed his fist into a stone wall yesterday, Ginny. I - I just worry what would happen if you tried to get close to him. I'm really afraid you'd get hurt."

"Why are you and Ron so afraid of him?" demanded Ginny, her eyes suddenly full of anger. "You're supposed to be his best friends but you act like he has some kind of terminal disease or something!"

"You don't know what it's like!" Hermione shot back, just as angry. "You're not with him all the time. One minute he's fine and the next he's having a fit! I - I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I don't know what he's feeling; I don't think anyone does!"

"I do," said Ginny quietly.

There was another long pause.

"I don't know what it was like for him to lose Sirius," Ginny went on. "But I know what it's like when Voldemort makes your life a living hell because I was there, too."

Hermione tried to talk but she realized that her tongue had suddenly stuck to the roof of her mouth. Ginny had never said anything like this to her before.

Tears started to edge down Ginny's eyelashes like raindrops on the branches of a tree.

"And I know how lonely it feels," Ginny added, looking down at her desk again. "Oh, I had plenty of people around me trying to say things to comfort me, but all they wanted to do was talk and I just needed someone to listen. I was just like Harry is now but I was much quieter about it and believe me, you don't have to act the way he does. And I got out of it, Hermione," she said, looking up at her. "Mostly, anyway. And I did it all by myself. But there are still some things - " Ginny's face creased anxiously. "Some things I've never told anyone, Hermione, I - I - I - "

"Ginny," said Hermione very gently. "Ginny, you can tell me those things. Right now. I'm not going anywhere and I'll never tell anyone, I promise."

"No," Ginny flinched and shook her head as if tossing a fly out of her face. "I - I can't tell you. I - I - I can only tell Harry. He was there. He saved my life and h - he knows what it's like and I - I love him. I just have to make him realize that he's not alone and he's not the only one."

Hermione was about to tell Ginny she was being irrational but a look in the younger girl's eyes made her pause.

"OK, Ginny, fine," she said finally. "But if you really feel that way about Harry, then you have to tell him."

Ginny frowned.

Hermione placed her palms squarely down on the top of her desk.

"I can't believe this, Ginny! I just can't believe this. For the last five minutes you've been standing here telling me that you didn't really mean everything you've just told me for the last two years, and now that you've finally convinced me, you still don't want to go and tell Harry himself? If you really still do fancy Harry, Ginny, that's fine, but do yourself a favor and don't go back to being the shy little girl who was scared to even look at him."

"I don't want to!" retorted Ginny. "Hermione, that's the last thing I want!"

"Then you have to tell him, because that's exactly what that shy little girl couldn't do."

Ginny bit her fingernails nervously.

"OK," she finally said.

There was a moment's pause.

"Was that all you wanted to talk to me about, Ginny?" said Hermione softly. "Because I'm already late for class."

Ginny nodded slowly.

Hermione walked over and put her arms around her younger friend.

"It's going to be all right, Ginny."

I hope, Hermione thought.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

Ron suddenly snapped to life and nodded.

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

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

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

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

"Enter," came a voice from inside.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hermione." Ron cut her off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Harry slowly opened the door and walked in. He was determined that Snape was not going to get to him. He was going to make it very clear right now, at the beginning of the term, that just because Dumbledore wasn't here, it did not mean that Snape could just harass Harry and his friends mercilessly. A wave of anger rushed over Harry as he remembered, for the umpteenth time, how Snape had goaded Sirius mercilessly the Christmas before about not being able to leave Grimmauld Place. Even though Harry had accepted Sirius' death as his responsibility, he still could not help but think that the crooked nose "acting headmaster" had had a role to play. And then there was the matter of his Occlumency lessons. Harry was sure he didn't want these to continue, whatever his recent decision to trust Dumbledore's plans for him, and he would make this quite clear to Snape as well.

Pushing these thoughts to the back of his mind, Harry walked straight up to Snape's desk and said:

"You wanted to see me - sir."

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

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

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

Harry was so surprised that he dropped his bag onto the floor. "Er, no, no, I mean, no, sir."

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

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

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

"You do that, sir."

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

"Not really, sir," Harry lied. "That is - "

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

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

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

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

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

Harry did not respond but continued to stare at Snape suspiciously.

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

"Yes, sir," said Harry, willing Snape to find some trace of defiance in his response.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

"What?"

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

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

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

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

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

"What?"

"I'm sorry," said Hermione defensively. "I know we've talked about it off and on ever since Mad-Eye Moody and our fourth year but I just, I don't think it's right for me. I've decided to become a teacher. I'm going to teach Arithmancy and History of Magic to those who really need it - the house elves and then after a few years, I'm going to set up my own charity to help house elves get decent food, clothing, and education about their own history. I expect you think it's all stupid but there - I thought you ought to know."

Ron's eyes narrowed. In truth he did think it was stupid, but that was not at all what was on his mind at the moment.

"I didn't think you were going to be an auror, anyway," he said. "I thought you'd already said that to Harry and me last year."

Hermione looked very nervous again.

"W - well, I said I was considering it, but I hadn't made up my mind yet, and now I have and I thought you had a right to know."

Ron continued to stare at Hermione.

"Is that really what you were going to tell me, Hermione? Was that really so difficult to say?"

"Well, yes," said Hermione defensively. "It was. It was on my mind all summer and I knew it was going to bother me until I said it and now I have." She glared back up at Ron, daring him to contradict her. "Why?" she demanded suddenly. "What did you think I was going to say?"

"I - I don't know," replied Ron, still looking at her funnily. "It just seemed like something more serious, that's all."

Ron wanted to say that it had seemed like something more personal but he couldn't quite bring himself to do it.

"You don't think this is serious?" Hermione demanded again. She tried to look affronted but Ron could not help but think that she mostly just looked scared and he still was not sure why.

"I don't know," he muttered thoughtfully.

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

***

Hermione and Ron did not speak to each other during lunch. Harry told them what had happened between him and Snape but though the three of them were sitting together, Ron and Hermione never actually reacted to anything the other said as if they were both having individual conversations with Harry. Harry could see that they had had some sort of argument but he was too preoccupied with his own concerns to bother to get involved for as soon as they had sat down to start, he was approached by Madame Hooch, who asked if she could meet with him that afternoon.

Finally, following lunch, Hermione disappeared to Muggle Studies and Ron to Divination. Most of the younger students had class this hour. As a result, Harry found himself alone on one of the many winding corridors that led from Gryffindor Tower to Madame Hooch's new office in the back wing of the castle. Clutching both his new Firebolt II which she had asked him to show her and the bag which contained his parchment and quill for notes during what he hoped would be an important meeting, Harry found his progress particularly cumbersome. It didn't help that he could not restrain his eagerness in getting to the meeting and finally hearing whether what he had suspected Dumbledore had said to him in his office the night he had arrived was really true.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Slowly, as if he feared that any sudden movement would make the owner of the voice disappear, he turned his head around and found himself looking into the azure eyes of Albus Dumbledore.

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

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

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

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

"Professor Lupin?" Harry said suddenly.

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

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

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

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

But he was already gone.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

"If I could use magic - "

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

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

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

Malfoy continued to ignore him.

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

Malfoy scrubbed at the spot with vigor.

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

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

***

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

But best of all was the news he had been given by Madame Hooch and Professor McGonagall who had been waiting at the meeting in Hooch's office when he'd arrived. He, Harry, was not only back on the Gryffindor Quidditch team - with the graduation of Angelina the previous term, he was to be its new captain. He had nearly tripped over his own new broomstick on the way out, his mind filled with plans and strategies. Tryouts came and both Madame Hooch and Professor McGonagall gave Harry a great deal of leeway in selecting his own team. Harry decided to keep Kirke and Sloper on as beaters, despite their rather inauspicious beginning, given their improved performance in the previous year's final. And Ron was still keeper, of course. Harry could not help but think he seemed more comfortable in practice now that Fred and George were gone. He held tryouts for the two vacant chaser positions left by the graduation of Angelina and Alicia Spinnet. One of them was taken by Ginny, who had performed well the previous year as Seeker. Harry still felt she needed a bit of practice but he had chosen her because he felt that she was already a rightful member of the team and that the seeker position could have been hers, though everyone simply assumed that she would give it right back to Harry.

Harry surprised a great many people (but not his own teammates) when he selected Arabella Wycliffe to join Ginny and Katie Bell as the youngest chaser in fifty-nine years. At first, the news, which soon spread around the castle, had been greeted with disbelief: the idea that this short, nervous first-year could handle herself in the rough world of Quidditch was seen as somewhat of a joke. But Harry and his teammates knew that Arabella's detractors had never seen her fly. Gliding effortlessly on a broomstick identical to Harry's, Arabella ducked and weaved like a hummingbird through her much larger opponents. Harry kept Arabella as a secret weapon, letting her practice together with the team only just before their first game. It was not unlike the strategy Oliver Wood had used those many years ago when he had first trained Harry as the youngest Gryffindor seeker in a century. In their first game against Hufflepuff, Arabella scored four goals in the first ten minutes. Then, before the stunned Hufflepuff team had time to react, Harry dived diagonally across the field and grabbed the golden snitch from where it had been hovering near the bottom of the Gryffindor goal post for the shutout victory.

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

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

Professor Dibble's first lesson was very short and consisted mostly of her sorting out a cluster of untidy parchments to determine who was in the class and what they had covered. No homework was assigned and Ron speculated that the class would be a pushover, much to Hermione's disapproval.

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

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

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

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

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

Harry soon found, however, that even Professor Dibble's nerve wracking lessons did not alter his strange new peace. After his first Quidditch match and the congratulations that seemed to follow Harry around, Voldemort seemed like a distant nightmare. But as soon as Harry began to feel comfortable with himself and his friends, something would happen to remind him of Sirius: whether it was the flash of the insignia on a teammate's Firebolt, a passing mention of Fred and George and the Marauder's Map, or a glance at the Whomping Willow as they went for tea at Hagrid's, Harry found that his godfather and his untimely death was never far from Harry's mind. There were days on the Quidditch pitch when Harry was sure that he could see Sirius, transfigured as a black shaggy dog, still watching him from the top of the stands but then he remembered that Sirius would not ever be returning to watch Harry play Quidditch. Harry himself had made sure of that.

There were times when Harry knew that his teammates could see that he was distracted and, he reflected one day, they probably knew why. But they respected him far too much to ever mention anything about it. There were times when Harry felt almost on the point of opening up his feelings to Ron and Hermione but whenever he thought of doing so, something would make him stop. He had tried to keep his anger inside but, although they passed each day together in companionable fashion, Harry couldn't help but sense there was still a distance between them, especially when the topic of conversations grew more serious. And Hermione and Ron now seemed to row more than ever despite Harry's best attempts to create harmony between them.

As October rolled around and the first Hogsmeade weekend drew near, Harry was forced to remember the danger he was in should he ever leave the castle. He was certain that he would not be allowed to go to Hogsmeade and this put him once again in a very despondent mood. He also noticed that Ron and Hermione failed to make any mention of the weekend and threw furtive looks at his housemates whenever they started discussing their plans in front of him.

At breakfast on the Monday morning before the Hogsmeade weekend, however, Hedwig arrived with a letter in her beak. Harry opened the letter with mild curiosity wondering who could possibly be writing to him this time. It turned out that while the letter was not enchanted to transfigure into the ghostly face of the acting headmaster, it was he who had sent the letter just the same.

Dear Mr. Potter,

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

Sincerely,

Severus Snape

Acting Headmaster

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

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

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

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

Ron crossed his arms and stared at Hermione.

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

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

"I promise I'll only stay where there are lots of people, Hermione, just like the letter said. The Death Eaters wouldn't dare to strike. And as Ron said, Dumbledore knows what he's doing and this year - "

" - I'm going to listen to Dumbledore," finished Ron, flashing a weak smile as Harry stared stonily in his direction.

Hermione continued to frown. "I suppose."

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Even you?" Voldemort raised an eyebrow.

"Even me."

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

"It appeals to his vanity - and his guilt."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Death Eater paused again. "My Lord."

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

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

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

"Indeed, my lord."

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

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