The Veil of Memories

Chapter 11

The Gift

Hermione walked back to her dormitory, fingering the locket her father had just given her. She hoped Lavender wouldn't be there. She very much wanted to be alone. Even on Christmas Day, the students' time was not altogether their own. For one thing, they were expected to give a silly little song and dance performance for the MP who was coming to visit on Boxing Day and Sister Brown had insisted they rehearse that afternoon.

But there were still a few hours left until the rehearsal and Hermione wanted to spend them by herself. She clutched the locket more tightly and tried to restrain herself from crying as she made her way up the stairs to her dormitory. She had only been allowed a precious few hours with her parents that morning and they had been kept under close guard all the time. No doubt she was still considered dangerous after her attempt at escape. But those hours had been happy, if emotional. Hermione tried to let the happiness sustain her rather than wallow in misery and self-pity.

But as soon as she opened the door to her dormitory and found it empty, she found she could no longer keep her tears back. She opened the locket and saw the smiling faces of her parents looking back at her, then she unclasped it and tied it around her neck, taking care to keep it underneath her jersey where no one would be able to ask her about it. The love Hermione took from her family would be her own secret strength.

Hermione allowed her tears to fall for a few more minutes, trying not to think that there was no way the door to her room could be locked from the inside, that Lavender could just walk in at any moment. Finally, however, she forced herself to stop and dry her eyes. She tried to think how much more fortunate she was than Harry who had doubted the Dursleys would come to visit him and had hoped they wouldn't. She didn't like to think who might have been coming to visit Arabella or what they would say.

Deciding that her friends needed comfort more than she, Hermione blew her nose and then looked at herself in the mirror, deciding she could pass as presentable. She was about to leave the room when she noticed something odd.

Hermione was sure that she had made her bed that morning. Sister Barnes was unlikely to have let them get away with anything less in any case. But her sheets and pillow now looked disorderly. Finding irritation and anger close to the surface of her thoughts, Hermione muttered several curses at Lavender and then went to straighten the pillows, less out of an obsession for neatness than from a desire to take control over the one private space she had left. As she did so, however, Hermione felt her hand make contact with something solid under the sheets.

Hermione stopped, her anger quickly fading to curiosity. She looked back over her shoulder and listened to make sure that no one was coming toward her room. On hearing only silence, Hermione gently lifted the covers of her sheets back up again and found, just under her pillow, a small package somewhat clumsily folded up in Father Christmas wrapping paper.

Who would have sent her a present? Hermione wondered. It couldn't have been Harry; he would have never been allowed in the girl's wing. For some reason, Hermione then wondered if it had been Arabella, but surely she would not have been allowed on the older girls' upper floor. Catherine perhaps? But surely she wouldn't hide a present under a pillow. And besides, where would any of her friends have gone to buy her a gift? They had never swapped presents before. Perhaps it was one of the nuns, maybe Sister Owens, someone who secretly commiserated with her. Yet Hermione felt sure that if it had come from a nun, the gift would have been meticulously wrapped. This present had been put together very clumsily - perhaps even by someone who had been in a great hurry.

Her thoughts equal part curiosity and caution, Hermione took the package into her hands and slowly began to unwrap it. She knew as soon as she held it that it must be some kind of a book. It didn't take long for the paper to come all the way off to reveal a plain, slightly worn looking black cloth cover. Hermione opened the first page and a note slipped out, written on a small piece of creamy-white memo paper, the kind that was standard issue to all the students and staff. The note was written very sloppily in ballpoint pen, almost as if its author was unaccustomed to writing, but Hermione managed to make out the words:

I am returning what would have been taken from you;

Open your imagination and you will discover the truth.

The note was not signed. Try as she might, Hermione could think of no one she knew who could have written it. Sweat condensed on her fingers as she turned the first page of the book and read the first few handwritten lines inside, then read them again - and again, until finally her mind could not help but acknowledge its confrontation with the impossible.

"B - but," Hermione said aloud. "This just can't be!"

***

Ron Weasley sat in the Great Hall across from his sister Ginny. Umbridge had not yet stood up to address the students but they knew better than to make any noise before she did. He had learned as a first year, as many others had before or since, that any talk in the Great Hall before Dolores Umbridge began to speak was punishable by the most wicked of detentions. The Great Hall would remain silent, as it nearly always did, to respect their esteemed headmistress.

It was not the first time Ron had envied Muggles. He didn't know much about them, of course, apart from the stories his father had told them when they were young, stories he forbade them from relating to anyone else for reasons Ron soon understood when he arrived at Hogwarts. But from what he had learned about their eckel-tricity and their funny-looking carriages, it did seem that Muggles mostly enjoyed themselves, which was more than Ron could say for himself.

He had never understood why his parents and elder brothers reminisced so fondly about their times at Hogwarts. Perhaps time had made them forget all of the wretched, terrible things that could happen at the school or perhaps it was simply because Umbridge had not been headmistress at the time.

Ron also envied Muggles for one other thing: there were so many of them and so few of his own kind. The founders of Hogwarts must have been wildly ambitious indeed when they built this enormous school complete with its large and draughty hall. But, of course, as they had been reminded so often in their History of the Oppression of Magic classes, there used to be much more of them. Wizard-kind had been beaten down and killed in large numbers by their intolerant Muggle neighbors. Ron vividly remembered the Salem witch trials the third years were forced to re-enact for the school every year. The "play" was staged complete with real fire which was only extinguished when the hapless student forced to play the part of the burned wizard or witch became sufficiently frantic in their cries for help. As Umbridge herself had so often reminded them, the lessons of history for which their forbearers had suffered and died could hardly be appreciated without experiencing something of their fear.

Ron thought of the bustling crowds each year as he left for school at King's Cross Station, the combination of intimidation and excitement that came from the unusual experience of being surrounded by so many people. He remembered how his father had told him that Muggle schools were enormous. He imagined how easy it would be to make friends in such a school. If one's roommates or classmates were not agreeable, then surely one could find mates elsewhere. Ron didn't want to complain too much: Neville was all right and so was Seamus, even if he did occasionally get on Ron's nerves. But Ron had never really had a close friend at Hogwarts - to say nothing of a girlfriend - and he had to spend far too much time for his liking with his little sister.

Their eyes locked briefly just as Ron prepared to tuck into another Cornish Pastie. His were the first to break the gaze and return to the food in front of him. Ginny seemed to be trying to communicate a lot lately through her eyes and it made Ron feel very uncomfortable. She had spent most of the first term filling Gryffindor Tower with fantastic stories that there were supposed to be Muggles attending Hogwarts and how they could practice magic just like wizards and witches. She even told Ron that he'd had a Muggle girlfriend. First Ron thought she'd been hit from a very powerful curse, probably from Draco Malfoy, who was beginning to look at her in the corridors in a way Ron was sure he didn't like. But when first Madam Pomfrey and then the Healers at St. Mungo's had been unable to find anything wrong with her, Ron started to think that she had just finally cracked under the strain of spending six years in this school with hardly any friends and under Umbridge's horrible thumb. Part of Ron couldn't blame her. Sometimes it felt as if a dementor was permanently watching over the school.

Then just before Christmas, Ginny seemed to get worse. She kept going on about this bloke - what was his name? Henry? Harry! That was it. She said Harry was her boyfriend and Ron's best friend and that You-Know-Who had taken him to another dimension. Ron had been just about to suggest she should be permanently housed at St. Mungo's when Ginny had suddenly stopped talking about this Harry altogether. Her parents had been very worried when they had gone back to the Burrow for Christmas but Ginny had insisted that she'd just been under a lot of strain but that she'd since recovered.

Ron didn't really believe Ginny thought this and he wasn't sure his mother did either. Whenever Ginny had insisted to her mother she was all right, she would look over at Ron and tell him a different story with her eyes. And she had done it again just now. Ron couldn't shake the feeling she was biding her time before she started up on more crazy stories.

His puzzled thoughts were interrupted when Dolores Umbridge slowly stood up from her chair. The students sat rigid to attention. The only sound that could be heard in the room was Professor Flitwick, whose back was turned to Umbridge and who had been carrying on an animated conversation with Professor Harmon, cut silent when the latter frantically pointed up at Umbridge. Flitwick turned around with a horrible look of fear on his face to meet Umbridge's smile.

The diminutive witch could barely be seen above the high table but the students knew better than to make a show of craning their necks. The only part of Umbridge visible during her talks was the black velvet bow she still wore on top of her head.

"I trust you all had an enjoyable Christmas," said the voice from below the bow. "And now it is time for us to begin a new term of lessons. I cannot tell you how happy I am to see that all of you have returned safely. I hope I need not remind you that we live in extremely dangerous times. Indeed, it falls on my sad shoulders to report that one of our number remains missing. Professor Janus, who was last seen in his room shortly before Christmas, seems to have left us for good. While we hope that he will once again return, I'm afraid the prospects of that happy day look rather bleak. I regret that the Minister himself has authorized me to tell you that he has received a ransom note from the Goblin Federation demanding a substantial payment in gold for his release."

At this, a low murmur of alarm rose up from the normally complacent students. Ginny let out something of a derisive snort, however, which fortunately for her, seemed to have been masked by the other noise. Ron looked up and shot her a warning glance but she only smiled sweetly in return.

"Yes, yes, calm yourselves, children, calm yourselves," Umbridge went on in a tone that suggested it was not a request. "Needless to say, Minister Fudge does not negotiate with barbarous half-breeds. I can assure you, however, that he and the Ministry are working tirelessly to break this group and secure the release of Professor Janus. What the rest of us can do is pledge to lend our unswerving obedience to Minister Fudge's War on Miscreant Creatures. We must defend ourselves against the enemy at all costs."

"A bit difficult when you won't teach us any defense spells," muttered Ginny.

Ron's eyes widened in alarm and even Neville, who was sitting next to him, looked over at Ginny in pale shock. Ron was certain that Ginny's remarks wouldn't go completely unnoticed this time. Sure enough, there was an awkward silence as the bow slowly turned in Ginny's direction. Ginny continued to sip her pumpkin juice calmly but Ron could not restrain himself from craning upward just slightly and found Umbridge's steely gaze focused on his sister. There seemed a momentary look of frustration on Umbridge's face, however, and then she went on talking to the room in general.

"No doubt some of you are wondering how we can defend ourselves against this enemy. There may even be some who would mistakenly advocate a return to the primitive practices of our forbearers in teaching a practicum of defensive spells or, Merlin forbid, starting up private defense associations." Umbridge paused and sighed. "My children, not a day passes when I do not regret how your youth has been shortened by this never-ending battle we have been forced to wage against creatures who bear neither our decency nor our intelligence. But it is my duty to warn you that there are traitors in our midst."

This time there was no murmur from the assembled students. It was not the first time Umbridge had mentioned this and her eyes (or rather the bow on the top of her head) never failed to turn in the direction of the small table of Gryffindors whenever she did.

"Yes, I know it is sad." Umbridge sighed again. "But while the goblins still retain control of Gringotts, they have more than enough gold to bribe the weak in mind and spirit. I regret to say that they could not have taken Professor Janus right out from under our very noses without help from someone inside this castle. If you wish to assist the Minister in his noble crusade, then I suggest you remain on the lookout for anything the slightest bit out of the ordinary. Traitors do not wear their true faces like a badge for all to see. It may be something as simple as an offhand remark through which those who are truly disloyal give themselves away. It may well be that your classmates, your teachers, even your closest friends are wizards and witches in name, but not quite in spirit. But if you do suspect anything, don't take matters into your own hands, my children. Be sure and come straight to me."

***

Harry drew up alongside Hermione.

"All right?"

"All right."

"You don't look it."

Hermione's eyes darted around furtively.

"Just keep walking and act normal," she muttered.

Harry struggled to keep up with Hermione as a biting winter gale blew in his face. She led him in a circuitous path out toward the edge of the playground.

"That man keeps watching us, watching me more like it," she said.

"What man?"

Hermione grabbed Harry's sleeve and tugged him away from the direction of the playground where he had been staring.

"That guard!"

Harry snatched a quick look back to see a tall guard in uniform, complete with a baton at his waist and a cap that covered his balding hair. His drawn, muscular face was crowned with a severe looking ginger goatee streaked with grey.

"Him?" said Harry.

"Yes," replied Hermione in an even lower voice.

"He's been here since our first year."

"I know but he never used to follow me around like this. It's because I tried to escape."

"Well...." Harry looked a little furtive.

"I know, Harry, you don't have to say. It's just - " Hermione sighed, exasperated. "I need to talk to you about something. I've been trying to get you alone for weeks now and that bloody guard keeps watching me wherever I go."

"Well, we talk every day, Hermione."

Hermione paused and looked at something beyond Harry. Harry turned around to see the guard edging closer toward them. As their eyes met, however, he seemed to turn away and wander back toward the playground.

"At last," muttered Hermione. "Look, Harry," she took hold of his elbow and steered him closer. "I know this is going to sound a bit strange but - oh, good grief!"

Harry turned around again to see Dean and Lavender walking quickly toward them. Dean had a football in his hand and looked dressed to play. Harry suppressed a smirk as Hermione tried to wave them away but her ambiguous gesture was interpreted as an invitation to approach. Dean and Lavender quickened their pace.

"Fancy a game, Harry? You promised you'd try out for intramural football this term."

"I don't know, Dean," said Harry reluctantly. "Running around in shorts in January doesn't sound like much fun to me."

"Oh, you won't feel so cold once you get warmed up," Dean replied. "Come on. Football's fun and I'd bet you'd be good at it. You're tall and fast."

"I don't know. I - I'm not sure I'm all that keen on football."

"Just try it. Just this once."

Hermione groaned inwardly as Harry shrugged then nodded.

Harry and Dean turned to leave but Hermione tugged gently on Dean's sleeve.

"Are you...." she began tentatively. "Are you feeling - better, now?"

Dean shrugged, then smiled. "Yeah, no worries, Hermione."

Hermione didn't feel completely convinced by Dean's response, though she had to admit he looked far healthier than he had on that awful day when Snape had given him the caning. In fact, kicking the football absently up and down on his knee, he seemed almost more relaxed than Hermione had ever seen him.

"Shall we go and watch then?" asked Lavender, seeming eager to break the silence.

Hermione was about to tell Lavender that she didn't fancy being a football fangirl when something happened that wiped all thought of an acerbic remark away from her mind.

Lavender reached up to Dean and the two exchanged a short but meaningful kiss on the lips. They then grinned somewhat sheepishly at Harry and Hermione.

"Coming then?" said Dean to Harry.

"Yeah."

Hermione exchanged a very brief glance with Harry that told her he was just as surprised as she at the development Dean and Lavender's friendship had taken.

Dean and Harry walked ahead of them, Dean enthusiastically explaining the less obvious aspects of the rules. Lavender walked closely behind them but Hermione hung back a little, still a bit non-plussed by the kiss she had witnessed. Hermione hadn't expected that any of them could possibly have become romantically involved in a prison. It seemed impossible that there could be real love in a place that to Hermione seemed always so full of hate.

They had almost reached the football pitch. Several of the other boys came over as they saw Dean approach. He put the football on the ground and kicked it over to Harry. Harry, however, paused with the ball at his feet and looked back at Hermione.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. Didn't you - I mean - "

There was a very odd look on Harry's face that Hermione couldn't remember having seen before.

"What?"

"Didn't you want to talk about - well - I mean, I think I interrupted you."

"Oh, that. It's nothing," said Hermione quickly. "I - I - we can talk about it after - well, we can talk later. Just go - just go and enjoy your - enjoy your game," she finished, wondering why it suddenly seemed so difficult to complete a basic sentence.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," Hermione replied very quickly. "I'll talk to you right after or just - or just after."

"Give us the ball then," said Dean and Harry kicked it back to him. They moved further out into the field and began making longer passes to each other, several of the other boys joining in. After a few minutes, a scrimmage started up. Hermione looked across to see that Lavender was watching the game with a slight flush on her cheeks and a dreamy look in her eyes.

Harry made a sharp fake against one of the other boys and moved in to pass to Dean who put the football in the net. Dean walked over and slapped Harry on the back. Lavender jumped up and down and clapped her hands together.

"He's good, you know," she said excitedly, turning back to look at Hermione, "not to mention handsome."

"Yes, Dean has always had natural good looks," replied Hermione stiffly.

"Actually, I meant Harry." Lavender smiled shrewdly. "Don't you agree?"

"No!"

Lavender giggled furiously. Hermione felt her face go very red and tried to turn away but Lavender kept looking at her.

"You'd better keep your eyes on the game!" Hermione retorted crossly. "They'll have to go in soon and there may be some part of the male anatomy you've missed looking at!"

Lavender's smile faded. She looked back at her roommate coolly for a moment and then returned her eyes to the scrimmage.

Hermione wished she hadn't asked Harry to talk to her after the game. She wanted to do anything but stand there like she had some sort of interest in it. Worse, it seemed like she was waiting for Harry the way Lavender was waiting for Dean, and the comparison (which had obviously not missed her gossip-starved roommate) made Hermione feel sick and uncomfortable. She truthfully had no romantic feelings for Harry and she had never thought of their friendship as anything more. But now she wondered whether the behavior of others around them might pressure them into more complicated feelings. Hermione's friends had always been girls when she was growing up but the circumstances of their imprisonment had thrust her together with Harry. Catherine was all right but there was no one she trusted more than Harry. And she knew that, now more than ever, she was dependent on their friendship and very frightened of anything that could change it.

Hermione kept revisiting her fears over and over again like a skipping CD. She was forced out of her musings only when the game ended and Harry and Dean returned with the others to the edge of the pitch.

"That was smashing, Harry!" said Dean, clapping him on the back. "Why didn't you tell us you could play like that?"

"I didn't know I could," said Harry shrugging, with a half-smile on his face.

Dean leaned in closer.

"We've got a game coming up against Thatcher wing next Saturday. Think you can join in?"

"Yeah, I - I suppose."

"We'll have plenty of chance to practice before then. I know it's a bit of a push since you're new but I really think we could use you as a striker."

"What, the forward who stands right in front of the net?"

"Yeah," said Dean, looking hopeful. "I'll have to teach you the scissor kick, though, but I think it could be done. Will you think about it?"

"Yeah," said Harry with a bit of hesitation. "Yeah, OK, I'll think about it."

"There's a chap."

Dean clapped Harry on the back and walked off arm and arm with Lavender, who took one last devilish look at Hermione as Harry stayed behind.

"Sorry, Hermione," said Harry, a bit out of breath. "I - I - what was it - "

Hermione swore under her breath as the buzzer rang loudly across the playground. Harry continued to stand in place, looking at her expectantly, however, and Hermione felt determined to say enough to forestall any misunderstanding on his part.

"H - Harry, look, we obviously don't have time to talk about this now but something very odd's happened," Hermione said very quickly. "I - I got something at Christmas, a - a book, a diary. I don't know who sent it me. It's just - I can't really explain now - it's just very strange. Can you talk this time tomorrow?"

Harry and Hermione looked at each other for a moment without saying anything. Then Harry smiled.

"Of course. Anytime, Hermione."

Hermione paused for a moment, then she smiled, too.

"Off! Back to the school, you two! Didn't you hear the buzzer ring?"

Sister Lewis had swept in and the smiles on the faces of the two friends quickly faded. They both mumbled "Yes, Sister"s and started to walk back to the building but Sister Lewis put a restraining hand on Harry's shoulder.

"What?" he asked.

Sister Lewis stared back at him defiantly for a moment longer, then pointed a pudgy finger at the football pitch. Harry looked back to see the football lying on the ground where he had been kicking it.

"That goes back in the equipment shed. We do not go leaving things lying around where they can be trod on or stolen at this school, do we, Mr. Potter?"

"No, Sister," Harry replied neutrally.

"You will return the football." Sister Lewis stared at Harry a moment longer as though hoping he would defy her. Harry stared back at her as though to show he was fully up to any contest of wills she would have him enter. He then roughly shook her grip away and went over to pick up the football. Hermione went to follow him but Sister Lewis restrained her as well.

"Not this time, Miss Granger," she said with a very false smile. "I think Mr. Potter can return the football quite easily without your help. You will return to the building for your afternoon lesson as quickly as possible. And don't think that either of you will be excused!" she finished.

Hermione exchanged a brief look of commiseration with Harry and then ran off to the school building.

***

Harry was afraid Sister Lewis would try to walk with him back to the shed but she seemed content to let him find his own way. Harry slowed his pace after she left. At this rate, he wouldn't make it to class on time and was bound to be punished in any case. He decided to himself that he might as well enjoy a few more minutes of freedom.

He never dreamed that he'd be that good at football, Harry thought to himself, throwing the ball once up in the air and catching it. It might even turn out to be not such a bad game after all. Things had been a little strange back there with Hermione, however. He was glad she'd explained to him what she'd wanted to talk to him about however odd it had sounded. For a moment, it had seemed like she'd had something else to say to him. What with Lavender and Dean.... Harry stopped himself from thinking about it. Hermione just wanted to be his friend. Harry was very glad because he very much needed Hermione's friendship and he needed it exactly the way it was.

Harry bounced the football on the ground once or twice before he reached the shed, feeling a little light-hearted. His hand reached toward the door but before he could open it, the sound of a voice behind him made him freeze.

"You play well. You're a natural, you know."

Harry swung back. It was the guard, the guard Hermione had thought had been tailing her.

"Thanks," Harry muttered.

Harry quickly turned his attention back to the shed door which he opened. Feeling somewhat unnerved, he hastily threw the football into the back of the shed and walked back out, hoping the guard would decide to wander off somewhere else.

But there he was, standing right in front of the door and staring right at Harry as he opened it.

Harry looked around quickly. There was no one else out on the playground but them. There were probably cameras but Harry wasn't sure that would help him very much. Perhaps the guard had been sent to rough him up, to get at Hermione somehow? The guard continued to stare at him, almost as though he was waiting for Harry to say something. Harry decided to try to make his way back to class as quickly as possible. If necessary, he could make a run for it. He was fast and he didn't think the guard would follow him too far.

"Excuse me," Harry mumbled.

He broke to his left but the guard moved quickly to cut him off. Harry tried to run away but the guard took a firm grip on his shoulders.

"What do you want?" Harry demanded, tensing himself in case the guard decided to strike him. "Let me go!"

"I have to warn you, Harry."

"Warn me? About what? I don't even know you!"

"You can't let Hermione bring that diary out into the playground. It will be seen. There are safer ways for her to show it you."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm late for class. Excuse me."

Harry faked quickly to his left and then walked past the guard's right shoulder. To Harry's relief, the guard did not follow but Harry had not walked very far when he heard him say:

"I think you've dropped something."

Harry knew full well he had dropped nothing. He knew he had to keep walking, run if necessary, but something made him stop and turn back around. The guard had a small piece of notebook paper in his hand which he held out to Harry. Harry hesitated but then took it from him, muttered a "thank you," and stuffed the paper quickly into his pocket. He then turned and trotted back to the school, still steeling himself in case the guard tried to follow. But he didn't. Harry had almost reached the school door when he turned back to see what the guard was doing.

But he had vanished.

***

Ginny walked quickly but quietly out of the Great Hall. She knew Ron wouldn't say anything to her while they were leaving. No one dared talk after one of Umbridge's "speeches," not while she was still in earshot. She knew Ron was liable to be very unhappy about her caustic remarks during Umbridge's sermon and that he would take the incident as a further excuse to press Ginny on the question of her diseased mind. He was trying to protect her, of course; she knew that. But as far as she was concerned, it wasn't her that needed protecting. Umbridge wouldn't touch her somehow. Ginny had realized that after she had canceled her detentions in December. But Ginny could sense she still wanted to. Someone or something was holding her back. Ginny was more sure than ever that she was meant to have some significant part to play in all this, though now she couldn't begin to think what, just as couldn't think how in Merlin's name she was going to begin to get to the bottom of all this. Ginny also knew she probably couldn't go too far against Umbridge but her little acts of resistance kept her spirit from dying completely and, for now, that was the best she could do.

Ginny paused at the main staircase that led back up to the main floors and then on to Gryffindor Tower. She wasn't sure where she was going but she knew that if she went back up to their common room she would be confronted by Ron. It didn't make much sense to be trying to avoid her own brother indefinitely but she could ill afford to have him scrutinizing her and threatening to send her to St. Mungo's or write to their parents. And he had made it very clear that he wasn't going to even attempt to believe her, especially when Ginny's story became less and less plausible with each new disappearance. All she could do now was bide her time and wait for some sort of opportunity, however remote, to present itself.

Ginny had no sooner finished her thought when she felt a tug on her elbow. She turned quickly around, tensing herself to tell Ron to leave her alone and stop making things worse by attracting the attention of others. She had already begun to open her mouth when she discovered that Ron was nowhere in sight.

"My, we're a little frazzled and jumpy, aren't we? I bet you thought I was Ronald."

"I - "

"I suppose he's trying to get you into all sorts of hospitals, isn't he? Find out what's wrong with you. Some people have no imagination at all."

"Well, Luna, I - "

"Anyhow, I haven't forgotten what you said last December. I couldn't do very much over the holidays. Father and I were off on an ice-fishing expedition in Norway. It's the only time of year the poison-eyed weedfish goes into the lakes and can be caught. The rivers are completely frozen, you see. But now that I'm back, I can do some research."

"Research?"

"Yes, don't you want to find out how the aliens are stealing all your friends?"

Ginny closed her eyes and silently counted to ten.

"Oh, right, I'd forgotten. There are no aliens. Well, extra-dimensional creatures then. Whoever it is, they're up to no good. And we're going to find the counter-curse."

Ginny sighed. "Thank you, Luna, but I'm not sure it will do any good. I've been looking in the library since the beginning of the year. No one knows anything about mass memory charms. No knowledge of it was ever recorded in any books. Of course, I haven't been able to look in the restricted section, but I'm sure we'd never be allowed, not with Umbridge policing the school for traitors."

"Oh, dear, I wasn't talking about looking in the library at all. No, I meant in my room."

***

"'THERE'S A SMALL STORAGE ROOM JUST BEHIND THE PANTRY. THERE ARE NO CAMERAS THERE. MEET ME THERE NEXT FRIDAY AFTER TEA. BRING HERMIONE. TELL NO ONE.'"

Hermione looked around for the umpteenth time to make sure no one was watching them and then handed the note back to Harry.

"It's obviously a trap," she decided, clenching her fists in frustration. "Oh, what are we going to do? I feel so helpless! I knew it wouldn't be enough for them just to get at Dean. They're going to try and entrap us and then they're going to do something really awful!"

Harry shook his head. "I don't understand, though, Hermione. They caught you trying to escape. If they wanted some sort of evidence of something against you, surely they only need that?"

"I don't know, maybe their camera tape broke or something. Or maybe this is all just part of their punishment for me. Perhaps this is all just some sort of psychological torture." Hermione wrung her hands through her hair and her eyes began to water. "And they want to drag you into it, too, Harry. They want to punish you for being my friend."

Harry put a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "The psychological torture is only going to work if you let it, Hermione."

"Oh, Harry, how can you always be so calm?"

Harry's eyes widened. "I'm not always calm."

Hermione forced a smile. "That's true. Well," she said, swallowing away her tears. "I suppose this chap was right about one thing: it was probably a daft idea for me to bring this diary out to show you. If anyone took it off me, we'd be far worse off."

"Why, Hermione? What does it say?"

"Well, it's... oh, Harry, the whole thing's absolutely daft! Here, I - well, look I did bring a page. I didn't know how else to explain it to you."

Hermione reached into her back trouser pocket and produced a folded sheet of paper. Both she and Harry looked around again to make sure no one was watching or approaching them. Hermione shifted over as Harry leaned further back against the tree up against which they were sitting to make sure the cameras couldn't catch what he was reading. He looked down at the page, then up at Hermione again.

"Go on, read it," she said. "Read it aloud so I might think I'm not going mad."

Harry cleared his throat. "3^rd of November, 1996," he read, looking up again.

Hermione nodded encouragingly.

"'I made the stones move again tonight. I did it just after lunch on the playground when no one was looking. I know I mustn't keep doing it. I've already proved I can. But it's very exciting. It's tremendous to know that I have this power, this gift. I feel so alive now. I feel so good about myself every morning when I wake up. I can imagine the others must feel it, too. I don't know where this is all going to take us but - '" Harry stopped reading. "It stops. There isn't any more."

Hermione nodded. "That was the biggest piece I dared tear out."

"But Hermione, I don't understand what it means. Who wrote this?"

"If seeing is believing, then I did."

Harry frowned. "I don't understand."

"It's in my handwriting. The whole diary is. And it has my name on it. And it - it has things in it that - that - only I would know! But at the same time it's just - it's just not possible. I never wrote in any diary. I know I didn't! And - and everything it says is just madness! It's all mixed up. Take that date for instance."

"November 3rd?"

"Yes, do you remember what happened on November 3rd?"

"Well... no. Do you?"

"Yes. That was the day they took us to that wretched amusement park, just to make it seem like we were students in a real school and not juvenile offenders."

"How do you remember things like that?"

"I just do. But I trust you don't forget the trip itself?"

Harry smiled. "How could I? They still had to follow us everywhere to make sure we didn't escape. They even had to handcuff us to the Rolly-Polly."

"And then it rained. Oh, let's not go on. It makes me ill just thinking about it."

Harry frowned. "So this diary of yours says we were somewhere else?"

"Yes! Look, it says 'after lunch.' We were the whole day in that awful place. How could I have been at the school 'after lunch?' And that's not the worst of it: the things it talks about. It's all full of rubbish about magic spells and moving rocks with wands. And it says we weren't caught trying to escape after all. We were part of some sort of magic group. They'd caught some of us but not others and they were trying to get me to give them all the names of the people they didn't know about. But I wouldn't. And then they kept threatening me and then - and then - "

"Go on."

"And then that's how Dean got caned," Hermione finished quietly. "Oh, Harry, it's all like a funny fairytale. It's like everything that really happened but twisted around somehow."

"Doesn't sound like a very nice fairytale."

"Maybe not but...." Hermione's voice trailed off and she started looking down at her fingernails. "But there were times in that diary when I was very happy, happier than I've been for a long time. Before we got caught, that was. I think I'd almost like it to be true."

"Was I a part of your group?"

Hermione paused and then looked back up at Harry.

"That's the other odd thing. You're not in the diary at all, Harry. It's like you weren't really here."

There was a long pause.

"Maybe I did really write this diary, Harry. Maybe I just don't remember writing it. Maybe they drugged me and made me write it."

A sudden flash appeared in Hermione's mind. She remembered for the briefest of instants her nightmare of being tied down by Umbridge and Snape and injected with something but then it was gone again as soon as Harry began to speak.

"I think that sounds a bit like nonsense to me," he said. "How could they have come up with all those things? And why, Hermione? Even if they did want to put you under some kind of psychological torture as you say, surely there are easier ways of doing it?"

"I don't know, Harry. I don't know what to think. Nothing else makes sense."

"And you don't know who sent it you?"

"No, there was just this note.... I've got that here, too."

Harry took the note away from Hermione and read it.

"'I am returning what would have been taken from you; open your imagination and you will discover the truth.'"

"Whatever that's supposed to mean."

Harry frowned and put the note together with the other one he had showed Hermione earlier. He looked down at them thoughtfully.

"Do you think these were written by the same person?"

He handed the notes to Hermione who scrutinized them herself. Both had been written with similar looping and slightly awkward strokes, as though the author was trying to use a ballpoint pen like a paintbrush.

"I suppose they could have been," she said. "But then - but Harry, you don't think that guard wrote this, do you?"

Harry and Hermione both instinctively looked around but the guard that had dogged Hermione's movements for most of the past month seemed to be gone today.

"I don't know," Harry replied. "He must have something to do with this, mustn't he? I mean, he was the one who gave me that note."

"Fantastic. I'm being pursued by some kind of crackpot."

"Who writes diaries in your handwriting?"

"All right, then, perhaps they're just using him to do their work for him. Perhaps I really should just take this to Sister Barnes or Snape. Then we really would know for sure."

"Not likely. No, Hermione, I don't think you should."

Hermione nodded but still looked uneasy.

"There is one way we could find out for sure," said Harry, after another moment's pause. "We could go along to the pantry after tea on Friday."

"Oh, no, Harry, we mustn't! It would be very foolish! Who knows what he's after and then if we got caught - no, we mustn't."

Harry nodded. "You're right, I suppose," he said, but looked a little disappointed.

"We'd be walking straight into a trap!"

"Yes, it would be exactly what he wants us to do."

There was another long pause. Both Harry and Hermione began playing with bits of dead grass and leaves on the ground in front of them. A few moments later, the buzzer went and they began to move with the rest of the students back to the building.

But not before they exchanged a final and very significant look.

***

As Ginny followed Luna toward the Ravenclaw common room Wednesday afternoon after Potions, it was definitely against her better judgment. She wasn't sure what made her feel more depressed: having no better plan to stop Voldemort than browsing through back issues of The Quibbler or having no better way to fool herself into thinking she had a plan than browsing through back issues of The Quibbler. Several times on their trip to the Ravenclaw common room, Ginny considered making her excuses and turning back, particularly when Luna got lost twice on the way and had to be reminded by Ginny where her own house was located. Ginny finally told herself she was not going along because she was out of luck and options but because Luna was her friend and she didn't want to disappoint her.

When they finally reached the floor-to-ceiling stack of bookcases that marked the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room, Ginny thought once again of going back. She had not been here since her fourth year when she had dated Michael Corner and the memory was not a very pleasant one. Ginny pondered for a moment whether Michael still existed in this reality and was pleased when she recalled that both his parents had been Muggles. At least Voldemort had gotten one thing right.

Luna had no difficulty remembering what seemed to be a long series of complicated taps on the covers of the books which rearranged themselves to reveal the entrance to the common room. She walked confidently ahead and Ginny had to trot to keep up pace. But for the large banner of an eagle whose eye followed Ginny suspiciously as she moved, the common room looked very much like Gryffindor's.

Ginny felt grateful that there didn't seem to be anyone else she knew here. A few younger students sat hunched over books on their chairs but whatever it was they were reading was far more interesting to them than Ginny or Luna. Very much like the Gryffindor common room, it was also now mostly empty.

Luna quickly led the way up to her room. Ginny followed behind her, a little more warily. She hoped none of Luna's roommates would be there. To her relief, the room was empty. In fact, there was only one bed and dresser besides Luna's own, although to Ginny's eyes there was obviously space for more. No doubt Luna's other roommates had been Muggle-borns. The owner of the one remaining bed and dresser kept them meticulously neat. Luna's side, however, looked like it had been attacked by a pack of malicious doxies. Papers and books lay strewn all over the desk, bed, and floor, ending in a messy pile near the center of the room.

"Sorry it's such a mess," said Luna quickly. "Let's see...."

Ginny moved quickly aside as Luna cleared a number of papers and books from underneath her desk. Ginny glimpsed a photo of Luna and Neville arm in arm, both wearing strange safari outfits complete with Panama hats; Neville kept adjusting his. Ginny made a quick move to her right as a half-eaten ham sandwich went flying out along with Luna's other possessions.

"Right, OK," said Luna, from underneath the desk. With what appeared to be some effort, she lifted out her trunk. It was much bigger than the one Ginny took with her each year. She was surprised Luna could move it at all.

"Now, let's see if I can just remember the correct combination," she said, half to herself. She took out her wand from its customary position behind her ear and tapped it several times on the lock, drawing back to look at it curiously when nothing moved. Ginny sighed inwardly as Luna applied what appeared the same set of taps to the lock several more times. She had to work hard to conceal her surprise when the lock finally sprung loose and Luna opened the trunk. Luna then stepped into the trunk and disappeared completely inside.

Ginny had scarcely gasped when Luna's head appeared again.

"Well, come on!" she said. "We haven't got all day, have we? It'll be time for dinner soon!"

And then she was gone again.

Ginny cautiously stepped forward and suppressed a gasp as she looked into the inside of the trunk. Luna was descending a long ladder down into darkness. She was easily already eight or nine feet down even though the outside of the trunk couldn't have been more than a foot deep. It had obviously been magically enlarged, although Ginny had never seen an enlargement on this scale before. She cautiously stepped into the trunk herself and began to descend after Luna.

After the first few steps, Ginny felt a distinct sense of vertigo. How far did this ladder go down? She was relieved when she finally heard Luna's feet make contact on a wooden floor beneath them. Ginny continued down as she heard Luna shuffling around on the floor. A moment later, a series of torches came on to illuminate Ginny's footsteps. She descended the remaining part of the ladder more easily and finally came to stop on the floor herself.

"Retractum."

Luna flicked her wand at the ladder and it folded itself up to the ceiling.

"Couldn't have my roommate finding it," she said. "She appears to be from Earth but one can't be sure. The rubbish disguises it, you see."

Ginny cleared her throat. "Right."

She looked around properly to find they were in an old high-ceilinged room. The whole place smelt of ancient dank wood. A few lanterns shone on all sides of the room but other than that it was covered from wall to ceiling with books. A large untidy desk sat at one end with a worn but comfortable looking rocking chair pulled up next to it.

"I spend most of my time in here," said Luna sighing. "It's good when you're trying to avoid people. Now, these books," she said, pointing her hand at the bookcases on all four corners of the room, "contain all the sort of things you'd never find anywhere else. A very powerful charm was put on this trunk by my great-grandfather. He was the founder of The Quibbler. When I was accepted at Hogwarts, my father made a better one and gave this to me. Whenever the Ministry tries to ban, censor, or restrict any sort of book, a copy of it will magically appear here. Much better than the Restricted Section, don't you think?"

Ginny managed to nod, still looking around in awe at the stacks and stacks of books.

"What happens when the stacks are full?" she asked, seeing they were nearly just that.

"The floor drops another level. It's very unnerving to be sitting here trying to study when it happens, I can tell you. Well, there's quite a large section on aliens over there." Luna pointed up to the fourth row of books on the right side of the room. "I'll try that first. I know what I'm looking for. Why don't you tackle that bit just behind you on Atomic Potions? You never know. Mind Shakespeare, though. He likes to crawl around over there. Some of the more successful books give off radiation and they keep him warm."

Before Ginny could reply, Luna levitated herself and glided over toward the stacks on the far walls, picking out one or two books. She quickly became engrossed in one moldy looking green volume with moving comets on the front cover. Shrugging, Ginny made her way over to the section Luna had indicated, not at all sure how Atomic Potions were going to help her find Harry. She had no sooner picked out the only book that wasn't glowing when something large and green jumped out and ran onto the floor. Ginny shrieked.

"I told you to be careful of Shakespeare," said Luna reproachfully, her feet still dangling in mid-air.

Ginny stared wide eyed at the thing which was standing on the floor just in front of her baring its teeth. It was as large as a small dog but a horrible, dustbin-colored furry green with several stubby legs, and three large nose-like tentacles that grew out from just behind its pointed ears. One very large red eye marked the center of its head and watched Ginny warily.

"Wh - what is it? It isn't a Gumbleweed, is it? Or a spiny-footed Kuku bird?"

"No, it's a cat, can't you tell?"

"A cat?"

Luna made a whistling sound and Shakespeare stopped growling at Ginny.

"Ginny's a friend, dear," said Luna in a child-like voice. "She's come to look at some books. Why don't you run off and play on your desk?"

Shakespeare continued to look up at Ginny suspiciously but then retreated to the desk and fished out what looked like the other half of Luna's unfinished sandwich from underneath some scattered papers. Ginny grimaced as Shakespeare stuffed the sandwich into its mouth. It looked back at her with an expression that suggested the feeling was mutual.

"One of my mother's more unfortunate experiments," Luna went on, by way of explanation. "He was only a kitten when she died. But he seems to have taken a liking to me now." Her voice trailed off a little at the end of her sentence and she returned quickly to the book she had been reading.

Ginny continued to stare up at her, however, feeling a little non-plussed. Although Harry had told her that another one of her mother's "accidents" had taken her life, she had never herself heard Luna mention her, even though they'd been friends for two years now. She wondered if she should say something when Luna looked up again and said:

"You think all of my animal friends are imaginary, don't you?"

"No, I - I - I don't - I never said - "

"That's good, then," Luna replied brightly. "I think most people do, you know. Well, we'd better get on. No use in sitting here talking all day with all these books to read."

Luna returned to her comet book, apparently cheerfully, though it was difficult for Ginny to be sure. She looked at Luna for a moment longer then looked back down at her own book, hoping very much she would find something useful.

And not just for her own sake.

***

Harry and Hermione crept quietly toward the door of the pantry storage room.

"Remember, the minute the buzzer goes off, we have to dash back upstairs," Hermione whispered for the umpteenth time.

"Yeah," said Harry vacantly. His hand moved toward the handle of the door.

"Oh, Harry, I really don't think we should be doing this!"

"All right, then," said Harry. "Let's turn back." He smiled somewhat deviously.

Hermione let out a heavy sigh, then reached over and turned the handle herself. Harry's smile quickly faded and both of them tensed as they wondered whether the guard would be there waiting for them on the other side.

But the small room was empty apart from some boxes of dried vegetables stacked up against the wall in front of them.

Hermione let out a breath.

"Wonderful. He isn't even here! Oh, this whole thing is just a stupid hoax. Let's go - Harry!"

Harry had wandered into the room ahead of her and began looking up and down the walls.

"He can't be hiding if that's what you're thinking. There's barely enough room in here to sit a dozen people."

Harry moved aside some of the vegetable boxes but found only a solid brick wall.

"See."

Harry sighed and turned back around, then frowned.

"I don't understand," he said. "I felt sure he'd be here somehow."

"Well, he isn't," replied Hermione, matter-of-factly. "Now, come on. Let's get back upstairs before someone misses us."

Harry paused for a moment, then shrugged and followed Hermione toward the door. She was just about to open it when a voice cut through the air from the very spot where Harry had just been standing.

"I'm sorry I kept you waiting. I had to make sure you were both alone. It's very important no one finds me here. This is probably very strange to you both but I hope you'll allow me to explain. You wouldn't know me in this disguise nor, I suppose, do either of you, in any case, now remember my original form. But I am your godfather, Harry. My name is Sirius Black."

***

There was an uncomfortable lull in the conversation. Ginny turned her attention to her mashed potatoes and peas and began to eat more quickly. She hadn't had much of an appetite ever since Harry had gone but she still made it a point to eat. She knew she had to keep her strength up in case some sort of opportunity did arise. Luna had spent nearly every day and every night in her trunk since they had first started looking at books together two days before. Ginny had insisted she spend some time on her own work but Luna had said she was certain she was getting somewhere in the alien section. Not having the heart to voice her doubts, Ginny had moved on from Atomic Potions to Earth-Splitting Runes, but she had found nothing that seemed remotely connected to the Death Eater's intrusion into the Gateway or the mechanics of Mass Memory Charms. Ginny had left Luna earlier that afternoon for Quidditch practice and had been concerned to find she had not yet come down for dinner. Ginny didn't want her to work too hard on what she feared was a futile project. To say of nothing of the fact that considering what had transpired at Quidditch practice, she was eager for an excuse to eat dinner at the Ravenclaw table.

"They're not going to bite you, you know?" said Ron.

"Oh - what?" Ginny looked up from her mashed potatoes.

"Your food. You eat it; it doesn't eat you. Did you know?"

"Yes," replied Ginny impatiently, and returned her attention to her food.

"Everyone else has gone, you know. We can talk if you like."

"I don't want to talk."

Ron sighed. "Ginny, I wasn't trying to make a fool of you out there, you know."

"Why didn't you tell me I was the captain, Ron? We've been going on like this for a month now!"

Ron's conciliatory demeanor faded. "I thought you might have remembered. You've only been captain for three terms now. But I can see I was mistaken once again."

"And why do you think I never ran the practices?"

"Well." Ron shrugged. "I thought, you know, you were being democratic or something. Everyone having a say and all that. Anything's worth a try at this point, I suppose."

"Well, it would help if we weren't missing half the team!"

"And I suppose this Henry person would have made up most of the difference."

Ginny went very red and took a steady grip on her knife and fork. "Yes," she replied, through gritted teeth. "Your best friend Harry was a very good Quidditch player when he was around. Much better than you, at any rate!"

Ron sighed. "Well, that's not hard to imagine, I must admit."

Ginny sighed also. "Ron, just answer me this," she said. "How was Voldemort defeated? The first time?"

Ron's face went slightly white. He looked quickly behind him and was relieved to see Umbridge engrossed in conversation with a slightly flushed-looking Professor McGonagall.

"Merlin, Ginny!" he replied in a whisper. "Don't say his name! Good job old Umbridge didn't hear you."

"I'm not afraid of Dolores Umbridge."

"Well, you should be! Anyway, I don't know what you're talking about - the first time. You and I did him in last year. Before that, he'd been running around for - I don't know, ever since before we were born. I thought everything would get better after that but - well, with Umbridge still around, I don't think anyone even believes it was us and - what?" Ron asked as Ginny shook her head.

"Ron, if Voldemort hadn't been stopped by Harry when he was a baby, we'd all be dead by now. No one would have survived sixteen more years of that!"

"Yeah, well, it's a bloody lucky thing we aren't. Look, Gin," Ron lowered his voice and leaned across the table. "I'm only looking out for you, you know. If you'd just let a healer - "

"Oh, there you are, Ginny - and Ronald, too. I hope I'm not interrupting your secret conversation."

"Actually, Luna, we were just leaving," replied Ron. "What a pity you - "

"Oh, good," said Luna. "I've caught you just in time." She turned to Ginny. "I've made a very interesting discovery, you know."

Ginny felt her heart quicken slightly but then forced her false hope back down when she considered the odds that Luna had genuinely stumbled across something useful from her books on extra-terrestrials.

Ron looked back and forth from Luna to Ginny, shaking his head.

"Luna has been helping me," declared Ginny, feeling suddenly defensive of her friend. She glanced severely at her brother, then looked up at Luna. "Let's go up to your r - your, er, common room and we can talk about it there." Ginny watched Umbridge warily out of the corner of her eye, knowing that her attention rarely strayed far from the Gryffindor table. She jerked her head in the headmistress's direction but Luna missed the signal entirely.

"Oh, there's no need to go all the way up there. What I really need is a short demonstration and Ronald will be just ideal."

"I - what?"

"Now, sit still, Ronald," said Luna, taking her wand out. "This spell can lead to some very nasty complications if it's not done correctly."

"What demonstration - what are you talking - "

But before Ron could finish his sentence, Luna had pointed her wand at him. She closed her eyes and mouthed a silent incantation. A bright red light sizzled noisily out of her wand and struck Ron square on the chest. He fell backwards, chair and all, onto the stone floor of the hall with a very loud crash, at which point Luna's eyes opened again.

"Splendid!" she exclaimed, turning to Ginny. "That will do very nicely indeed, don't you think?"