The Veil of Memories

Chapter 2

The Very Unfortunate Ride of Professor Severus Snape

"What?" Ron swung around to face his sister.

Ginny didn't respond right away. She sat in her seat staring into space, her body continuing to tremble even as Harry held onto her hands more tightly, looking ever more concerned.

"Told who - what?" asked Ron again.

Ginny paused for another long moment.

"Malfoy told you," she said, looking straight ahead but not quite at her brother. "Last year after you hit him in the corridors. I remember Hermione telling me. She was terrified. And I suppose now she should have been."

"Who's this Hermione person?" demanded Ron.

Ginny looked between Ron and Harry, forlorn.

"Only your best friend in the whole world."

Ron's face softened immediately as Ginny let out a choked sob. Harry immediately put his arm around her and buried her in his chest. He ran his fingers through her hair as though her horrified mood could be untwisted just as simply. All the while his own face was a study in deep concern.

Harry wasn't at all sure what it was that Ginny was talking about but he knew that something was deeply wrong. Whether it was something Malfoy had said or done, it had let out an ugly inner demon to take the joy from her soul again, and he wished he could find some way to stop it.

Harry was still looking down at Ginny when he felt someone slide into the chair on the other side of Ginny. He looked up and groaned inwardly as he saw that it was Luna. If the aim was making a tense situation worse, Harry had no doubt that Luna was the master. On this occasion, she did not disappoint.

"Xenophobes," she said, putting her arm on Ginny's shoulder and ignoring the very cold look that Harry was giving her. "Don't you see what's happened? I told her to be careful but she must have gone and made friends with one of the aliens down in the kitchens. He or she must have forgotten to wipe her memory." Her face knitted in concern. "It must be very painful."

Harry was still thinking of an appropriate retort when to both his amazement and consternation, Ginny sat upright and looked at Luna, her eyes as wide as her fellow sixth-year.

"You believe me, Luna, don't you?" she said.

Luna nodded, touching Ginny's forearm reassuringly.

"Not in my mind," she replied sagely, "but in my philosophy."

Ginny reached over and gave Luna a hug. When she drew back, however, her eyes began darting around the room.

"They're all gone, aren't they?" she said suddenly.

"Who, Ginny?" Harry said, as softly as he could. "Who's gone?"

"I thought everyone had been late for breakfast," said Ginny, tears threatening to cascade down her eyes again. "But they're all gone. Lavender - you remember Lavender, don't you, Harry? Giggly, stupid girl in your class? Mad about Divination?"

"I'm sorry, Ginny, I - "

"Colin!" Ginny shouted. "Always carries a camera around. Annoying little - dating my roommate, Amanda?"

Ginny's question was met once again with only blank stares.

"Dean! You must remember Dean! My - my - your roommate," she looked up at Harry and Ron. "Mad about Westham football?"

"What's football?" asked Ron.

"Dennis, Justin, my roommate Catherine, Arabella," Ginny turned a desperate looking face to Harry, "your chaser, Harry. The youngest chaser in a generation. You remember her, don't you? But you don't, do you?" she added before Harry could respond. "None of you remember them, any of them."

Luna nodded shrewdly. "There must be more of them than I thought."

"All of the Muggle-borns are gone," Ginny went on, ignoring her.

"Muggle-borns?" said Ron incredulously, now looking at his sister with a mixture of disbelief and worry. "At Hogwarts?"

"Yes!"

Ron raised his hands in self-defense. "Whatever you say, Gin, but there haven't ever been any Muggle-borns in Hogwarts. At least I don't think there have," he added equivocally. "Dumbledore's been trying to push it for years, of course, but even I have to say he's a bit of his rocker about that. I mean Harry here can do magic just fine - no offense, mate."

Harry shook his head quickly.

"And even Seamus has been known to do a bit on occasion," Ron added, "but completely Muggle born? You mean both parents are Muggles? It wouldn't be fair to them, would it? I mean, I don't suppose they could so much as lift a feather with a - "

"YES, THEY COULD!"

"All right, all right!" protested Ron, holding up his hands again.

"Don't you understand what's happened?" said Ginny, opening and closing her hands on the table in front of her. "He's come back! He's taken them away! Malfoy knows; all the Death Eaters must know! But none of the rest of you remember. He must have done something, some kind of memory charm." She pointed past a frightened-looking Neville to the Remembrall that still sat on the table. "That's what he can't remember! That's what none of you can remember. But I don't know why." She sighed wearily and let her head fall back onto Harry's shoulder.

"Who, Ginny?" asked Harry gently, gingerly touching her shoulder as though afraid it would spontaneously combust. "Who's he?"

"Kwiluxital, the chief xenophobe, or as the aliens like to call him, the grand pu - "

"VOLDEMORT!"

There was dead silence all around the Great Hall. The sound of knives and forks on plates all around them had come to an ominous stop. Even Luna seemed at a loss for words.

"OR HAVE YOU ALL FORGOTTEN HIM AS WELL?"

There was a very sickening pause. Harry drew back from Ginny again and stared at her with an expression that left little doubt that he remembered exactly who Voldemort was. Sweat began to break out on Neville's forehead. And just when the tension seemed to be wound so tightly it could not break, a voice cut through the air behind them that made each of the Gryffindors long for awkward silence once more.

"I wish I could say I was surprised to find the source of disturbance at this table," remarked Snape coolly. "But as it is I am not. It never ceases to amaze me that the amount of trouble that your house seems to cause is inversely proportional to the dwindling number of students it attracts each year. I'm afraid that once again you will find yourselves in negative territory on the very first day of the new term: let us see, that will be ten points from Miss Weasley for disturbing the peace of the rest of the school by shouting the Dark Lord's name out loud; five points from Mr. Longbottom for creating a general distraction with that oversized carnival toy; and another five points from Mr. Potter for the insolent manner in which you are now looking at me and a great deal more if you find yourself unable to restrain the expletive I know this very moment is dancing on the corner of your lips."

But it was Ron who spoke.

"Can't you see she's not well?" he said through clenched teeth. "You miserable, cold-hearted...."

Ron stopped himself from speaking any further, though judging from the apple-red color of his cheek and the vein that throbbed in the corner of his neck, it was not without a great deal of self-restraint, self-restraint that Snape seemed determined to put to a further test.

"Please do continue, Mr. Weasley," he said, a dangerous edge creeping into his voice. "After all, I would not want to do anything to tarnish Slytherin's impeccable record at winning the house cup. Come now, where is that famous Gryffindor bravery? Surely no number of house points or detentions should mean anything to you? Very well, then, if you insist on remaining speechless, I suppose I can take a tally of where you stand at this point. I consider myself generous in deducting only twenty-five points for your ill-mannered outburst. And you may consider your prefect privileges on probation. Professor Dumbledore may insist on giving leadership responsibilities to a quota of students from your very small house but I, for one, know that there are a far greater number of deserving Slytherins ready to take them up."

Snape paused only to look at his watch.

"I also consider myself very kind in reminding Potter, Weasley, and Longbottom here that they have only fifteen minutes left until their Potions class begins. Should you be late, you may find that it costs you far more than a few house points."

And without another word, Snape drew his cloak around him and swept out of the hall in long, quiet strides.

There was another long moment of silence during which Neville was heard to audibly gulp. Then, seeming to regain a measure of her composure, Ginny sighed and said:

"You'd better go on to Potions. Remember what he said to you at the end of last year in the hospital wing, Harry. He's looking for any excuse to be awful to you. You'd better not give it to him."

Ron sighed, too, and sat down again in front of his sister.

"Look, Ginny, I - I reckon Malfoy might have put some kind of hex on you, when he took hold of you like that, some kind of revenge for your bat-bogey hex or something. I - I really think I ought to take you up to see Madam Pomfrey." A look of anger suddenly passed over Ron's face. "I don't care what that old git does to me! I'll go over his head to McGonagall or Dumbledore if I have to; something's not right with you and I'm not letting my sister - "

Ron stopped suddenly, startled, as Ginny took hold of his hand and looked him directly in the eye.

"Ron, I know everything you've said here this morning you've said because you want to take care of me. But I know what I know and nothing's going to change that. It's you - all of you - that should be going to see Madam Pomfrey, not me, and I'm going to find out why."

Once again, no one spoke. Then Ginny took her hand away and added:

"Come on, then, you're going to be late."

With great reluctance, Ron, Harry, Neville, and Luna got to their feet and made their way toward the exit of the Great Hall, trailed by Ginny. A moment later, Amanda ran into the hall to find her roommate and anxiously remind her that there were just ten minutes left until their first day of N.E.W.T. Defense Against the Dark Arts. On seeing Ginny's puffy eyes, however, she could tell immediately that something was wrong, but Ginny just looked back at her friend a little sadly and insisted that nothing was the matter. After they had exited the hall, the sixth and seventh years turned off in different directions to their respective lessons, but before they had separated entirely, Ginny laced her fingers tightly through Harry's and pulled him toward her.

"I'm sorry," she murmured as the others instinctively withdrew. "I never should have made that remark about you and Voldemort. I know you could never forget."

Harry shook his head. "You weren't saying it just to me," he said quietly so that only Ginny could hear. "And if I really have forgotten my best friend in the whole world then I suppose I might have forgotten just about anything." He swallowed anxiously. "I wish I knew what I could say to help."

Harry's heart sank as he saw Ginny's eyes swim with tears again. She leaned in even closer, took hold of his hands, and looked up into his eyes.

"You believe me, Harry, don't you?" she said pleadingly. "I need you to believe me."

Harry's heart felt like a rock in his chest. He did not doubt for one instant that Ginny believed that what she had said to him was true. But her words that morning had seemed so fantastic; how could he believe her? Yet even as he decided that he could never fulfill Ginny's wish no matter how much he might want to, he felt his head nod up and down, as if of its own accord.

"But you still don't remember them, do you?" asked Ginny, as if reading his thoughts.

"I - I'm sorry," said Harry haltingly.

He could hardly meet Ginny's gaze now. He felt like the worst of hypocrites. He was so sure he had just delivered the worst possible combination of truth and lies for what Ginny most needed to hear that it came as a complete surprise when she reached up and kissed him on the cheek.

"Thank you," she whispered.

***

In all of the years that Snape had ruthlessly tormented him in class, Harry could not remember ever having felt angrier at the Potions Master. Now, when Ginny really needed him, he couldn't be there with her. He was going to be sitting here rotting in this stinking dungeon listening to Snape find the best possible way to humiliate him in front of the lopsided number of Slytherins - just as he always did. Snape had taken his grudge on Harry out on Ginny; he was sure of it. Snape had always made Harry feel wronged, horribly angry, incensed even. But now that Snape was hurting Ginny, Harry could feel a rage toward the Potions Master that seemed to burn like a tower of tinder in his gut.

Harry was vaguely aware that Ron was trying to say something to him as they sat waiting for Snape to walk in. He tried to concentrate on his best friend's words but he found it difficult to get the image of his hands around Snape's throat out of his mind.

"As soon as we're finished here, I'm taking her up to see Madam Pomfrey," Harry was vaguely aware he was saying. "I don't care what she says."

Harry nodded mutely.

"If she has any sense, she'll take herself there right now instead going to Defense Against the Dark Arts. It's only Grubbly-Plank, anyhow."

"What?" said Harry, seeming to notice only now that he was supposed to be in a conversation. "No, Ron, she's going to want to see Dumbledore. She'll be waiting outside the classroom for us to go together."

It was Ron's turn to sound startled. "What? When did you arrange this?"

"We didn't but she will, trust me."

Ron leaned in closer to his best friend.

"Look, Harry, you don't really believe - I mean, all this stuff about Muggle-borns? At first I thought she was joking but now I think Malfoy must have done something to her."

Harry sighed and looked ahead. He had to agree that Ron was probably right. It certainly seemed by far the most likely explanation. He looked over to the table slightly ahead and to his left where Malfoy was sitting between Crabbe and Goyle, his mouth open in a slightly sardonic smile. Crabbe and Goyle were rocking up and down like giant globs of jelly apparently after Malfoy had just told an amusing joke - most likely about what he had done to Ginny. As the laughter died down, Malfoy laced his fingers casually behind his head and leaned back in his chair.

"Yeah," said Harry finally. "Yeah, I think you're probably right."

"That's why we have to take her up to the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey - "

But Ron's plan was immediately cut off when the door to the Potions classroom swung open and Snape quickly marched into the room. The Potions Master had the effect of causing all conversation to grind to an abrupt halt as he had every year since their first.

But on this occasion, there was one exception.

There was a low but clearly audible murmur of talk in the room as Snape walked to the front and turned to face the class. His lips drew in a thin line as his eyes darted around the class for the source of the disturbance, a mixture of surprise and anger on his face. His eyes first came to rest on Harry and Ron. Feeling an extremely small rush of vindication that he was not the guilty party this time, Harry found it difficult to keep from smiling, but since he knew that Snape was looking for any excuse to take out his ire on him, he forced himself to remain stoic.

It did not take more than half a second for Snape to ascertain that the extremely few students in the class who were not in Slytherin were not the ones responsible for disturbing his lesson. Another half second later, both Snape and Harry had pinpointed its exact source: Malfoy was still in whispered conversation with Goyle, who for his part was putting his finger to his lips and pointing nervously up at Snape. Malfoy, however, continued to talk regardless and seemed oblivious to Goyle's hints that he should stop.

Snape cleared his throat loudly but Malfoy managed to stop talking only long enough to laugh at one of his own jokes to which Goyle now seemed far from amused.

"Mr. Malfoy," said Snape, in a tone of voice that Harry was sure could have cut through the stone walls surrounding the classroom if he had so desired.

Malfoy looked around for a moment as though unsure where the voice was coming from. After having looked in almost every other part of the room, he finally settled on Snape.

"I'm sorry?" he said, his face a picture of mock surprise.

Color rising in his cheeks, Snape strode purposefully over to the desk in front of which Malfoy was sitting, placed his long bony fingers on top of it, and looked the Slytherin directly in the eye.

"You will carry on your private conversations, elsewhere, Mr. Malfoy. And put your hands on the desk in front of you and sit properly like you were taught to do as a first-year!"

If Malfoy was startled by Snape's reaction, he did not show it. Staring unblinkingly back at the Potions Master, Malfoy took his hands from behind his head and placed them back down on the table as Snape had requested.

"That will do," muttered Snape, looking back fiercely at Malfoy who continued to meet his stare.

Harry and Ron knew better than to discuss this incident while class was going on and Snape was now even more eager to find a scapegoat for Malfoy's behavior. Nevertheless, they still exchanged a significant look. Harry found that he had not considered how Snape and Malfoy might behave toward each other now that Snape had been revealed as a traitor who had delivered Voldemort - and Malfoy's father - to Dumbledore and the Order. But now having thought about this more carefully, he doubted that Malfoy would be quieted so easily.

He was not wrong.

Snape returned to the front of the classroom and folded his arms again. He did not speak for a few seconds, which Harry knew was merely a tactic to instill a sense of uncertainty and unease in the remaining students. It did not prevent him from feeling any less angry toward Snape, however, especially when he saw a very nervous lump travel up and down Neville's throat.

"No one regrets more than I the sad circumstances in which your first two years of N.E.W.T. Potions were carried out," began Snape. "However, I want to make it very well understood that I expect everyone in this class to be fully prepared for their N.E.W.Ts come next spring. This means, of course, that you will have even more than the usual amount of work to complete for the test. I admit my concern that some of you are not prepared to handle this heavy burden. That is why I am perfectly happy to respect the wishes of any student who desires to bow out of the class at this point. I suggest this out of concern for your own personal safety."

Snape's mouth curled up in a leering smile as his gaze lingered at Neville who, to his credit, managed not to flinch this time. There was a long pause and then Snape continued.

"As there are no takers of my most generous offer - for the time being, at least - please open your textbooks to page six. You will find there a detailed recipe for - "

Snape stopped talking as two loud thudding sounds resounded through the otherwise silent room. This time, it took neither Snape nor Harry any time at all to locate their source in the form of Malfoy's boots which now sat, attached to their owner, on top of his desk, pointing directly up at Snape. Malfoy was leaning back in his chair and had crossed his fingers behind his head again.

Snape's complexion looked as if it could not decide whether to turn a blotchy red or a ghostly pale white. He did not say a word, however, but walked quickly up to Malfoy's desk, grabbed hold of his ankles, and forcibly pushed them back down to the floor, causing Malfoy to sit back upright very quickly. Snape continued to stare down at his erstwhile apprentice, not seeming quite sure for a moment what to say to him.

"As much as this pains me," Snape finally said, "you have left me with no other choice, Mr. Malfoy, than to take five points from Slytherin for your continued impertinence."

This time Ron did not seem able to restrain himself.

"Five points?" he whispered across to Harry.

Harry's finger went quickly to his lips and he looked back at Snape, expecting a far heavier loss of points to be swinging Gryffindor's way for Ron's remark. But Snape seemed so angry with Malfoy that it seemed, for once, that he hadn't even noticed Ron speak up. In any case, Ron's surprised exclamation seemed to have been lost in a general flurry of whispering that carried uncharacteristically through the classroom.

Malfoy continued to stare up at Snape defiantly.

"Sorry about that," he drawled. "I was getting uncomfortable."

Snape looked livid. "You will be getting a great deal more uncomfortable very soon, Mr. Malfoy, if you do not find some way to sit still and pay attention during my lesson!"

"I'll try my best but can't you speed things up a bit?" he replied lazily. "I find myself easily bored sitting here listening to you prattle on about things I already know, Severus."

The whispering had now come to a very sudden stop. In fact, it seemed that most of the occupants in the classroom had forgotten to breathe.

Snape paused and stared at Malfoy again. A stunned expression flickered across his face only very briefly, but long enough for Harry to notice and experience no small amount of satisfaction. Then his face seemed to decide to go very blotchy indeed.

"When you are in my classroom, Mr. Malfoy, I expect you to treat me with nothing less than the highest respect. Fifty points will now be taken from Slytherin for your obscene truculence! You will also report to me for detention this evening at eight o'clock. And tomorrow night. And the next night after that!"

"Is there anything else you want to say to me, Severus? Because I told you already I'm bored enough as it is."

The room was not completely silent this time. A single soft moan, not unlike the sound of a dying swan, had found its way out of Crabbe's lips. Harry, for his part, however, found himself hoping that things were just getting started.

Snape did not go a further shade of red this time, however. He merely smiled with a cruelty that he normally reserved for victims of Harry's own house.

"Do you think we do not all understand, Mr. Malfoy, where your little game is coming from? How horribly put out you must be that I put your worthless excuse for a father back in Azkaban where he belongs?"

Malfoy got to his feet, his wand out of his robes and pointed directly at Snape, his nonchalant manner now vanished completely. Harry watched as his eyes filled with hatred. He was all but certain that this was no bluff at all: it would only be a matter of moments before he hexed Snape.

But the Potions Master made no move at all for his own wand. He continued to stand watching Malfoy as though he could do nothing to harm him. Moreover, he continued to smile, almost to himself, as though pleased he'd achieved precisely the response he'd intended.

"Pointing a wand at a Hogwarts teacher is an expellable offense," he remarked calmly. "However, for the time being, I will content myself with your removal from this classroom. You will report immediately to Professor McGonagall who, as deputy headmistress, is responsible for addressing all serious infractions of discipline. I will leave it to her to decide whether to take the matter up further with Professor Dumbledore. I remind you, however, that the question of your continued attendance at this school is still for me to decide. I advise to you to tread very carefully indeed. Mr. Goyle, you will confiscate Mr. Malfoy's wand."

Goyle whimpered.

"DO IT NOW, YOU FOOLISH CHILD!"

Seeming to regain something of his casual demeanor, Malfoy flicked his wand around and gave the handle end to Goyle who received it with a slightly astonished relief. Then, without another word, he turned and strode out of the classroom. Harry did not fail to notice that the smile on Snape's lips did not disappear as he left.

***

Ginny tried to calm herself as she stood waiting for Ron and Harry to emerge from the Potions classroom, occasionally glancing at her watch. They were late now. No doubt Snape was behaving ruthlessly. She went over her plan again and again in her mind: she was going to take Harry and go straight to Dumbledore. Not only was the school and the missing students his responsibility, she was sure that if anyone still remembered them besides her, it would be him. If Ron wanted to come, too, that was fine, but he'd better not get in the way.

Ginny was starting to turn this plan over in her mind from the beginning again when the door to the Potions room swung open, startling her. She was surprised and unprepared to see the Slytherins emerge: in the reality she had remembered, the seventh-year Gryffindors had not taken their Potions N.E.W.Ts together with the Slytherins; she had remembered Harry, Ron, and Hermione remarking on the pleasant change of circumstances. But judging from the looks of things now, all four of the houses were in one smaller class, no doubt a consequence of the smaller population of the school. It also came as little surprise that there seemed to be more students from Slytherin in the class than all of the other houses combined: of course, Ginny realized, most of the Muggle-borns had been in other houses, hadn't they? Most especially her own.

She felt herself tense as she realized that Malfoy would have been in the class also and then immediately felt angry with herself for feeling afraid. But Malfoy did not seem to be among the first group of Slytherins and, before long, Crabbe and Goyle emerged by themselves, looking somewhat uncertain as to where to walk without the customary presence of their leader. Ginny was still wondering where Malfoy had gotten to when she spotted Ron's lanky frame behind them. As Crabbe and Goyle passed from view, she let out a small gasp as she saw that Ron and Seamus were supporting Neville between them, trailed closely by Harry. The left side of Neville's face was covered in large purple boils and his left leg seemed twisted oddly as if he was crippled.

"What happened?"

"Snape," said Harry angrily. "He was absolutely awful!"

"He kept standing in front of him and menacing him the whole class," added Seamus, his Irish lilt aroused.

"I couldn't concentrate after that," moaned Neville. "I reckon I must have gotten the recipe wrong. Anyhow, it all blew up in my face."

"And Snape just stood there and laughed at him," finished Ron, his face flushed red.

"Well, are you going to be OK?" Ginny asked Neville, who looked as though he could scarcely manage to concentrate on what she was saying.

It was Seamus who responded.

"We're taking him up to the hospital wing."

"You should come with us, too," said Ron, looking suddenly hopeful. "Maybe Madam Pomfrey can have a look at your - well - do you still...." His voice trailed off a little tepidly.

"Do I still remember my closest friends and housemates?" retorted Ginny, trying unsuccessfully to force back her anger. "Yes, I do, Ron!"

"Look, maybe - "

"I'm going to see Dumbledore," declared Ginny before Ron could get any further.

"I'll go with you," said Harry quickly. He turned to Ron. "You and Seamus take Neville up to the hospital wing. We'll join you there later."

Ron looked about to object but he could see right away that his sister would not be easily swayed. He'd just have to hope that the headmaster would manage to abandon his own crusade to allow the Muggle-borns to be admitted to the school long enough to point her in the direction of the hospital wing himself. Or to St. Mungo's if he had to.

"All right, but tell me what's going on," he said.

It was Harry who replied:

"You'll find out soon, mate. Now go on!"

Neville let out another moan just as Harry was finishing his sentence. Ron reluctantly turned to help Seamus up the steps with him and Harry quickly took Ginny's hand and they strode up in the direction of Dumbledore's office.

Few words passed between Harry and Ginny as they walked briskly down the corridors but Ginny's body language told a different story: she kept running her hand up and down his palm and clutching her fingers tightly between his.

"Are you all right?" he whispered softly into her ear as they walked down the last corridor before Dumbledore's office.

Ginny gave his hand another squeeze.

"I've gotten used to it now," she said. "And it's not the first time I know something no one else does. But at least this time I didn't keep quiet about it. And I'm not alone." She looked across hopefully into Harry's eyes.

Harry squeezed her hand and smiled as best he could.

"We'll sort this one out," he said, trying to sound more reassured than he felt.

They had now reached the entrance to Dumbledore's office. Harry was just thinking that he did not know the password when the gargoyle covering the entrance swung open and Professor McGonagall stepped out of the staircase that had now revealed itself.

"Off to see Professor Dumbledore?" she asked a rather startled looking Harry and Ginny who managed to nod. "Off you go, then." She gestured her hand in the direction of the moving staircase. "Perhaps you'll have better luck than I did!"

And then tutting to no one in particular, McGonagall walked down the corridor back in the direction from which Harry and Ginny had just come.

Shrugging their mutual confusion, Harry and Ginny mounted the moving staircase. Harry reached his hand toward the brass Griffin knocker on the door to Dumbledore's office at the same time that the headmaster himself was opening the door.

"It seems that everyone is afraid I might be left alone this morning," he remarked cheerfully. "Come in, come in."

Ginny tugged on Harry's hand and pulled him quickly toward one of the two chairs that sat in front of Dumbledore's desk. He could tell right away that she had not been pleased to see that the headmaster's mood was just as buoyant as it had been during the feast the night before despite the fact that now, as far as she was concerned, crisis had descended on the school.

Dumbledore seemed to take an inordinate amount of time pouring them tea. Harry could sense Ginny fidgeting nervously. Finally, Dumbledore poured them both a cup. He then sat down and, without losing the twinkle in his eye, said:

"Now what can I do for the two of you?"

Harry started to open his mouth but forced the words down. It was Ginny who had wanted to see Dumbledore and it was she who should have the first say.

Despite turning over in her mind what she was planning to ask Dumbledore all morning, however, Ginny did not feel very sure exactly how to put things now that she sat across from him. She finally cupped her chin in her hands, let out a long sigh, and said:

"I feel like I'm living in an alternate universe, sir."

Dumbledore nodded sympathetically. "Believe me, I know just how you feel. But perhaps you could be a touch more precise?"

Ginny went through several false starts before she finally managed to describe everything that had happened since breakfast that morning when, as she saw it, a sizeable portion of the school had vanished without a trace. She looked mostly down at Dumbledore's desk as she spoke, only now and then looking up into his eyes before lowering her head again, afraid to study too closely the effect her words were having. When she had finished speaking, however, she summoned up the courage to look up at the headmaster and ask:

"Do you remember them, sir?"

Dumbledore crossed his hands slowly and looked back at Ginny. He did not respond right away but the look in the eyes confirmed her worst fears. She leaned in slightly closer as if by doing so, she could uncover another of the headmaster's convoluted schemes lurking beneath his deceptively innocent gaze. But try as she might, all she could find was confusion. When Dumbledore finally shook his head, she found that it came as little surprise.

"I'm sorry, Ginny," he said. "The world you describe is one I have dreamed of for some while. But I fear that, so far as I am aware, it is just that: a dream."

Ginny shook her head far more vigorously than Dumbledore.

"It's not, sir. It's real. They were here - in this school. They were my friends, our friends. And they could do magic just fine."

Dumbledore followed her gaze over to Harry who seemed on the pointing of saying something.

But it was Ginny who spoke again.

"It's him, sir. I know it is," Ginny pressed on, trying hard to fight a renewed feeling of panic and despair from growing inside her. "Tom - Voldemort. He's back. Only he could possess the magic to fool even you!"

Harry was not quite sure how Dumbledore was going to respond to this and he was becoming very anxious both about how the headmaster might react and what effect it would have on Ginny's already frazzled state of mind. He did not feel very reassured when Dumbledore chose to walk around to the other side of his desk and peer down into Harry's teacup.

"I see you've managed to drink that up quite quickly," he remarked.

Harry stared down at his teacup, surprised to find that it was empty even though he could not remember having touched it.

"No matter," added Dumbledore. "There's more here."

He reached behind the desk and produced another pot of tea that Harry was sure looked slightly different from the one that had sat on his desk when he had last paid attention. As though he had nothing better to do, Dumbledore slowly poured him another cup before adding more to his own.

"Drink up," he said, holding the cup to his mouth as if teaching Harry how to drink tea for the very first time.

Ginny, for her part, had little interest in teacups.

"Don't you see, sir?" she added, her voice raised more boldly this time. "We've got to stop him! We've got to find some way of getting everyone's memories back and then we've got to find what he's done with the Muggle-borns before it's too late!"

Harry nervously brought the teacup to his mouth and sipped it.

You need to take her to see Madam Pomfrey, Harry, said a voice inside his head that sounded exactly like Dumbledore's. This could be quite serious.

Ginny looked over at Harry curiously as he spluttered out the tea he was sipping all over the floor.

"Easy now, Harry," said Dumbledore. He turned to Ginny and sighed again. "I'm not sure I would know how to begin doing that, Ginny," he replied. "Especially as I'm afraid, as you say, that I don't remember the first thing about what you say has happened."

The tea, the voice went on inside Harry's head. It's a bit like the Synchronis Totalis charm if you remember.

"But you're supposed to know!" Ginny protested, looking increasingly anxious even as Harry reached over to put a supportive arm around her shoulder.

She is telling the truth as she sees it, the voice continued. It could be she is suffering from quite a powerful memory charm, from whom or what I cannot say, but it is important that she receive medical attention as quickly as possible. We may even have to take her to St. Mungo's.

"If you can't help!" Ginny went on, now sounding slightly hysterical. "I don't know who can!"

Harry looked between Ginny and Dumbledore.

Why don't you tell her yourself? he thought back angrily in his mind.

Dumbledore looked at Harry and raised his eyebrows before turning back to Ginny.

"I am sorry to disappoint you, Ginny, but I know neither what has happened nor how I could possibly help."

Ginny sighed loudly and began looking around the office as though there was someone or something that might listen to reason. But even if the portraits that surrounded the walls were listening and not fast asleep as they appeared to be, none of them seemed either willing or able to assist.

I fully intend to, said Dumbledore's voice in Harry's head again. But I have not lasted in this position as long as I have without learning to see something of what is in the character of others. Ginny is becoming as stubborn as her mother was and I fear she will not listen to me. But she might listen to you.

Before Harry could respond, Dumbledore looked closely at Ginny and said very seriously:

"I must ask you to pay a visit to the hospital wing, Ginny. This is not a request. I know that what you are thinking must seem very real to you, but it is also possible that you are under the influence of a powerful memory charm. If, in fact, there is nothing wrong with you, then there is no harm done. But if there is, then we will have succeeded in relieving you from any further - and perhaps more serious - distress."

"I didn't come in here because I wanted to stop feeling hurt!" retorted Ginny angrily. "I came in here because I want them back! I want them all back! And I'm not going to stop at anything until they do come back!"

Without turning his head away from Ginny, Dumbledore's eyes traveled almost imperceptibly to meet Harry's. He did not need the headmaster's telepathic tea to tell him what he was thinking now.

"You may be right, Ginny," replied Dumbledore with a calm that she suddenly found infuriating. "But put yourself in my position. You're asking me to believe that I have forgotten what has occurred in the last one thousand years of the history of our people and believe instead that what you are telling me is correct. I can only ask that you consider honestly which is the more reasonable thing for me to suppose: that I and everyone else in this school are suffering some form of mass delusion or that it is you instead who may be unwell?"

Ginny let out such a heavy sigh that with her deeply flushed complexion and fire-red hair, she suddenly seemed to resemble a Chinese fireball. She looked up at Dumbledore and said with a note of resignation:

"All right, I'll go and see Madam Pomfrey, then."

Harry could not restrain a satisfied smile from spreading over his face as an expression of pleasant surprise traveled briefly across Dumbledore's features. Then Ginny added:

"If only to help to convince you that what I'm saying is right!"

"Believe me, Ginny," said Dumbledore truthfully. "I would like nothing better than to believe that what you have told me is true."

"And I'm only going on one condition," added Ginny, getting to her feet.

"I'll try my best," replied Dumbledore, not appearing the least bit offended that Ginny felt in a position to set conditions.

"In case I am right, just be - please be alert."

"I am always alert, Ginny," said Dumbledore seriously. "I will be until Lord Voldemort is gone forever and even after that."

Appearing grudgingly satisfied, Ginny made for the door but Harry did not move right away.

"What about Malfoy?" he asked Dumbledore. "Ginny told you what he said to her."

Dumbledore nodded soberly.

"It may be that Mr. Malfoy is still privy to certain information - information he has gained from dark forces that continue to remain at large. It may be that he is aware of the source of the curse that is ailing Ginny and that he is unable to resist taunting her about it. It may even be that he cast it himself, though I doubt he would be capable of something quite so powerful. Nevertheless," he added quickly as Harry seemed on the point of objecting. "I promise you both that he is already being watched closely, especially after the incident in Professor Snape's potions lesson that Professor McGonagall was in here informing me about shortly before you arrived. And as I told her then and I will tell you now: we are far better off giving him as free a reign as possible. For he has proved valuable in letting slip important information in the past and I have every reason to believe he will again this time."

Harry looked even less satisfied with Dumbledore's answer than Ginny had but he, too, got up from his chair and turned to leave.

Dumbledore watched with a slight sigh of his own as Ginny and Harry left the office. He went back behind his desk and began, very methodically, to put away his own tea things. He thought of using magic but he found the slow rearrangement of pots and cups somewhat calming. He looked down at Ginny's untouched cup a little ruefully. There was something wrong with her, he could sense it. And he had told her he was always on the alert: indeed, ever since Tom Riddle had first opened the Chamber of Secrets, it had always been Dumbledore himself that had warned others of the danger he had presented even before they had realized it themselves. But would it be so again the next time?

A few minutes passed and Dumbledore still found himself staring down at Ginny's teacup. He was woken from his reverie by another knock on his door.

"Oh, dear," he said to himself. "At this rate, I shall never finish early enough to make the magic carpet sale on time." And then in a louder voice added: "Come in!"

The door opened very slowly and the fourth visitor to Dumbledore's office that morning stepped inside. But this time, the headmaster did not gesture to the chair in front of his desk or arrange to brew a fresh pot of tea. Instead, the teacup he had been holding in his hand fell to the desktop with a crash spraying delicate pieces of china amongst Dumbledore's scattered possessions. His half-moon glasses fell to the edge of his nose as he examined the visitor more closely. The twinkle in his eyes vanished abruptly, perhaps never to return. When he spoke it was not with the quiet confidence on which the wizarding world had come to rely but with the raspy confusion of a very old man.

"Who are you?" he demanded. "What are you?"

The visitor paused for a moment before replying:

"You know who I am."

***

Harry was not at all certain whether Ginny was leading him toward the hospital wing and he wasn't sure he should ask. He could not help the sigh of relief that escaped his lips when she led him by the hand to the hallway that could only lead in that direction.

"You thought I wasn't going, didn't you?"

"I - I wasn't sure."

"I'm going if only to prove I'm right!" said Ginny again. "Besides," she added with a little less confidence, "I'm not sure what much else I can do at this point."

"I'm sorry about Dumbledore."

To Harry's surprise, Ginny smiled.

"Oh, Harry, when are you going to realize certain things just aren't your fault? It was my idea, remember?"

"Ginny," said Harry, preparing to choose his words carefully. "I'm not saying you're wrong or anything but don't you think that if Voldemort had returned, I would have felt it somehow. I mean - my scar - it hasn't hurt one bit all day."

Ginny frowned. "I can't tell you the answer to that, Harry. I just know what I know."

Harry licked his lips.

"And I'm not sure I understand how is it you remember when nobody else does."

Ginny continued to smile but the color left her cheeks.

"That I can tell you," she said quietly. "You could destroy that diary a hundred times. But until he's gone for good, I will always know something of him and him of me."

Harry was not sure how to respond to that. They walked on silently for a moment until Ginny frowned and said:

"Harry, when Ron was saying at breakfast that there had never been any Muggle-borns, he said that you could 'do magic just fine.' What did he mean?"

"Well," said Harry, trying to disguise his concern at Ginny's lapse in memory. "My mother was Muggle-born."

"But then how did your parents meet?"

Harry's brow creased for just a moment as though trying to extract a memory from somewhere within his head. For one heart-stopping moment, Ginny thought that she might have stumped him, but then he replied:

"They lived near each other when they grew up. My mother met my father at a dance, at least that's what Sirius told me. It was in the summer when school - "

But Ginny was already shaking her head fiercely.

"No, Harry, that's not how it happened at all! Your mother went to school here, too!"

"But that's not possible! She was a Muggle-born and no Muggle-borns ...."

His voice trailed off.

"I'm sorry," he finished feebly. "But that's just how I remember it."

"Please don't say you're sorry anymore, Harry," Ginny said with a strange mixture of admonition and pity in her eyes. "And if it means the same to you, I hope Madam Pomfrey does find something wrong with me. It's much better than the alternative."

Ginny was surprised when Harry stopped walking, took hold of her by the shoulders, and swung her around to face him.

"No," he said firmly. "Don't say that. No matter what I remember or anyone else remembers, don't. I know what it felt like: no one believed me when I could do magic with the Dursleys. I didn't believe it myself. But it was true. It's worst of all when you don't feel you can trust your own memories."

Ginny's face softened. She ran her fingers gently through Harry's unruly hair. She reached up to take his face in her hands and planted a light kiss on his lips.

"I'm glad I finally told you what I should have said ages ago," she whispered.

Harry did not reply in words but drew her close to him. Even as he held her that way every night now before they went to bed, she still didn't fail to feel tingles rush up and down her body as they touched.

"Don't you disappear, too," she said into his ear.

"Don't worry, I won't."

Ginny closed her eyes and let herself stay in the embrace a moment longer.

You'd better not, she thought.

***

Dumbledore tried to steady his shaking fingers as he poured tea into the two cups he had placed on the desk in front of him, but he succeeded in pouring most of it over the table.

"I think it would be best if you dispensed with the tea this time," the visitor said calmly. "I don't think you'll find it easy to read my thoughts in any case."

Dumbledore put the teapot down on the desk and sat down awkwardly in his chair. He forced himself to look across at the visitor again, his eyes still wide in fear.

"All is not right, Dumbledore. All is not right at all."

Dumbledore sighed spasmodically. "I had gathered as much." He swallowed and tried to force away the tremor in his voice more successfully than he had stopped the quivering of his hand. "What is it you want?" he asked finally.

The visitor let out a hollow laugh. "You always assume the worst of me. I understand you still have a vacancy for the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts Master. I would like to apply."

***

Night had fallen by the time Snape made his way toward the dungeons. He felt inside his pocket a second time to make sure that his wand was still there. He had taken a calculated risk in class. He had had to make it clear to Malfoy and everyone else who exactly was in charge. But while Albus Dumbledore might have found it noble to sacrifice himself for the sake of some abstract ideals of brotherhood and forgiveness, Snape was no fool. And if it took him to save the rest of the school from the consequences of their own stupidity, then so be it, so long as it saved him as well.

There was a time when Snape had seen part of himself in Draco Malfoy. Perhaps he still did. But he was increasingly sure it was the part that he didn't like.

And Snape was wise enough to know what Dumbledore still refused to admit to himself: Draco Malfoy was no longer a rambunctious school child who could be made to shine in the garish light of Gryffindor wisdom. He was a Death Eater like his father and so long as there was a Death Eater in the school, they were all in danger - most particularly him.

It was a dangerous game that Snape was preparing to play and he knew it. But Dumbledore would never have felt happy if he had expelled Malfoy just for pointing a wand at him in class. The choice to expel Malfoy might rest with him but Snape was shrewd enough to know that he would not get far without the headmaster's support and for that, Malfoy would have to do something inexcusable. And if everything went well that evening, that is exactly what he would do. Snape felt fortunate that he always kept a silencing charm around his office.

As he walked down the last steps to his office, Snape looked at his watch. It was almost half past eight. With any luck, and with everything else that had taken place that day, Malfoy's patience would be sorely tested by the time he arrived. It wouldn't take very much more to push him past the breaking point.

But as Snape reached the bottom step and looked out down the corridor against which stood the door to his office, he let out a dissatisfied hiss that would have impressed anyone nearby with how close it sounded to the rattling breath of a Dementor. Malfoy was not there waiting for him. He had chosen to defy him again. No matter, thought Snape to himself as he approached the door. He could wait. And when Malfoy did arrive, it would that much easier to make the case against him.

Snape took out his wand and prepared to cast an unlocking charm when something made him pause. There was a flickering light coming from underneath his door. Snape wondered for a moment whether he had forgotten to snuff out his lantern the last time he had been inside. But he also knew that he never forgot to do things like that. Snape touched his wand carefully to his door and was surprised to find it ajar. He quickly used his hand to push it all the way open. He could not restrain himself from letting out an uncharacteristic gasp of surprise as he looked across to see Draco Malfoy nonchalantly sitting on top of his desk, tossing a very expensive glass snake paperweight up and down in his hand.

"I was wondering when you'd finally get here, Severus," he said. "Sitting here waiting has been almost as boring as sitting in one of your lessons."

"How did you get into my office?" demanded Snape.

"How should I know?" drawled Malfoy. "You must have left the door open."

Snape's lip curled up into a snarl. "I hardly think so. And as if you weren't in enough trouble as it is."

"Is that so?"

Malfoy threw the snake up into the air once more before letting it smash on the floor into pieces.

Snape's teeth were visible just for a moment but then he began to smile.

"You know, I thought it would be quite difficult to have you expelled," he said. "But now I see that I'll hardly have to lift a finger."

Malfoy's face lit up in mock surprise. "Me, expelled, Severus? Oh, but I'm afraid the only person who is going to be expelled from this school tonight is you."

Without waiting for Snape to respond, Malfoy reached into the pocket of his robes and picked out a live rat which he held by its tail. The rat pawed through the air frantically before Malfoy tossed it in Snape's direction. It was still in mid-air when it transformed into the pale, frightened figure of Peter Pettigrew.

Snape held his wand out in front of him but the smile never left his face.

"So," he said. "The errant Marauder finally surfaces. Well, this does explain a great deal. Though I admit I would have doubted that even you had the magical ability to open my door by yourself, Wormtail. And here I was hoping only to remove one Death Eater tonight. I never imagined I would come across you. They might even give me the Order of Merlin for this."

If Wormtail had paid attention to anything Snape had just said, he did not show it. Instead he turned around to face Malfoy and said:

"My Lord, I beg you. Do not go ahead with this. He is sure to be missed. The others - "

"The others will know nothing, Wormtail," said Malfoy impatiently, "so long as you play your part well."

Wormtail nodded but did not manage to restrain a whimper.

"My Lord?" said Snape mockingly, returning his attention to Malfoy. "Your arrogance begins to approach even that of your - "

Snape's words died in his throat as Malfoy held out his hand and Snape's wand traveled into his open palm like a fly to the mouth of a frog on the tip of its tongue.

For a moment there was no sound at all in the office save Wormtail's moaning which was starting to grow in pitch.

"You were saying, Severus?" Malfoy finally said, almost sweetly. "Please don't let me stop you. Though I wonder why you find it so strange that Wormtail addresses me by my rightful title. You used it once even as you were betraying me."

Malfoy flicked his wand. Snape let out a gasp and Wormtail a soft cry as Snape rose into the air and dangled several inches above the floor of his office.

"That's better," said Malfoy, toying with the wand in his hand. "You have spent so much time around Dumbledore you've inherited all of his weaknesses. Did you really think you could keep me away for long? Did you not suppose that I would seek out the most promising Death Eater left, the one the old fool was prepared to let back through the doors of this school with open arms?

"What is it, Severus?" asked Malfoy mockingly as Snape grew unable to restrain the fear and surprise on his face. "Are you uncomfortable?"

Malfoy flicked his wand again and Snape spun into an upright position, only now he was dangling from his neck. His face turned a milky white as he struggled against the curse that was strangling him.

"Are you not going to beg me for mercy?" Malfoy cooed. "Do you think, even now, of returning into my service, even as you sold me to those who desired only my death? Do not lie to Lord Voldemort, Severus, for he always knows."

With an effort that nearly finished him, Snape coughed up his spittle into his mouth and tossed it out toward Malfoy.

Malfoy dodged the spit and looked up at Snape, his smile fading abruptly. He flicked his wand again and Snape flew headfirst toward the ceiling of his office, the weight of his body crushing several empty glass containers that had been hanging from hooks.

"It tests my will not to torture you and see you killed tonight," said Malfoy, his jaw setting just as Tom Riddle's once did. "But I have work for you, Severus. You've become just like the mudbloods now, I can see that. It is only fitting that you should be banished like them. At least I managed to make theirs a painless journey. I could not be bothered to waste my time doing the same for you!"

It proved very unfortunate for Snape that he had decided to cast a silencing charm over his office that night. For as the fiery orange triangle grew from his chest and spread out over his body, there was no one at all in the school who managed to hear him scream.