The Veil of Memories

Chapter 13

Red Sky at Night

"Thank you, Sister Barnes, that will be all."

Sister Barnes lingered long enough to fix Harry and Hermione with another cruel smile and then closed the door to Snape's office, leaving them alone with the headmaster.

Snape looked down at his desk for a moment. Harry sensed right away that he was trying to play on their nerves by keeping them waiting and kept his posture relaxed in defiant response. But he glanced over to notice that Hermione stood rigid to attention. He remembered that this had not been her first encounter with the headmaster. He felt a sinking sensation of guilt as he realized that after her recent attempted jailbreak, Snape would only need the slightest provocation to reassign her to a much more horrible prison.

"Sit down," muttered Snape in a low sharp tone.

Harry heard the squeak of the chair next to him as Hermione sank down into it quickly. A nervous voice in Harry's head told him that he needed to sit down now, too, that it wouldn't do to provoke Snape. Yet the idea of immediate submission prickled Harry like an annoying sore. He would not - and could not - sit.

Snape paused for a moment, looking down at his desk almost thoughtfully. A second later, he abruptly stood up and fixed Harry with an icy cold stare. Rather than feel intimidated, however, Harry found himself with a tremendous feeling of déjà vu. Even though, in reality, this was the first time he had ever been summoned to Snape's office, he couldn't help but feel that this was not the first time he had entered into a war of wills with the headmaster. And for just a flicker of a moment, Harry had the strangest sense that his impressions were shared by Snape as well. But the headmaster's momentary pensiveness disappeared as he marched behind Harry and with a trembling yet firm grip, pushed him down hard to his seat with his bony hands.

"That's better," Snape said coolly. He returned to his desk as if to sit back behind it but at the last minute made an abrupt about face and stood directly in front of Harry and Hermione.

"Explain yourselves."

"W - we - " began Hermione tentatively.

"I think Sister Barnes told you," said Harry, more decisively, sharing the briefest of furtive looks with Hermione. "We wanted to be alone. The storage shed seemed the best place. Hermione was upset. Is that a crime?"

Snape's lips thinned. He took three large strides over to where Harry was sitting and peered down at him through his nose.

"I did not ask for your insolence," he spat with a wave of horrible breath that made Harry recoil. "Does it strike you as reasonable for two juvenile offenders such as yourselves to simply wander off? Perhaps I should allow Miss Granger here to go off on another adventure." He took a large step to his left and stared down at Hermione who, to her credit, did not flinch and met his gaze.

"I thought we were supposed to be learning how to be merciful and kind at this school," said Harry, a little sharply. "Isn't that what Sister Barnes always says? Showing others a little Christian sympathy?"

Snape walked back to Harry and looked at him almost curiously before quickly reaching out his hand and slapping him hard across the face.

Harry heard Hermione stifle a gasp. His glasses were askew from the force of the blow and the right side of his head stung painfully. Snape stared at him, his hand half-raised as if to strike again but he settled for a low, hissing retort.

"You may learn Christian sympathy, Potter, after you have learned to fear the wrath of the Lord's judgment. Besides," he added, his eyes flickering back and forth shiftily between Harry and Hermione, "your slothful activities hardly fall into the category. However...."

Snape made a triangle with his fingers and seemed to adopt a slightly thoughtful demeanor again. He walked back behind his desk before turning his head quickly back to face them.

"Let us not play games, anymore, shall we? For I do not really believe you were engaged in any such kind of encounter. Sister Barnes has a somewhat limited imagination, don't you think?"

He looked back at Harry and Hermione as though daring them to agree, but neither took the bait. Snape looked at them for a moment longer and then, to their surprise, began to fiddle with the controls of the close-circuit video equipment on the table at the right of his desk. He seemed to be manipulating a picture he had prepared in advance, though neither Hermione nor Harry could see what it was until Snape swung the screen around to face them.

"Perhaps you could tell me who this is."

Harry felt his mouth run dry as he saw on the screen the freeze-framed image of his would-be godfather dressed as a guard and apparently patrolling the playground. He wasn't sure what Hermione had in mind to say but he quickly spoke up.

"As far as I know he's one of the school guards. He's been here for many years, hasn't he?"

"Indeed," replied Snape, looking for a moment as though he was struggling to suppress a puzzled frown. "And what is your relationship with him?"

"Relationship?" asked Harry.

Snape looked considerably displeased with Harry's feigned ignorance but before he could respond, Hermione broke in.

"He's been following me for weeks now, sir. I - I assumed it was because of what I - what we - had done. But if you didn't send him to watch me, sir, then I can't think what he wanted with us."

"Perhaps Mr. Potter could shed some light on the matter, then? You were seen talking together last Monday afternoon before you returned late to class. And do not try my patience by denying the matter, Potter. I have the tape to prove it."

"We were talking, sir," said Harry, looking back at Snape unblinkingly. "I don't deny it. He told me I was a natural at football. It was a bit odd. Perhaps you should investigate him, sir, if he - "

"Do not play games with me, Potter. I am investigating him, I assure you, and my investigation begins with the two of you. I'd advise you strongly to tell the truth. Were you or were you not meeting that guard this evening in the pantry storage room following supper? ANSWER ME!"

Snape's voice had reached an unhinged crescendo which echoed around the solid walls and high ceiling of the office. Hermione did not wait for it to die down, however, before quickly saying:

"No, sir."

"Mr. Potter?" Snape said evenly.

"No."

"Sister Barnes must have told you, sir," added Hermione quickly, as though afraid Harry would launch into an alternative and less manageable lie. "When she opened the door, it was only the two of us there. There's no other way out of that storage room, is there?"

"We didn't meet anyone, sir," added Harry in a tone which seemed to brook no contradiction. "We don't know who he is any more than you do. If you want to know what he wants with us, sir, I think you should ask him."

Harry was not sure how he expected Snape to react but he found himself surprised at the wry smile that crept its way up the headmaster's face.

"You are quite right, Mr. Potter," he replied. "In fact, I wanted very much to speak to him after his impromptu discussion with you last Monday. However, he did not report for work on Tuesday and now seems to have vanished without a trace."

Harry shrugged, hoping that they had managed to find their way out of the conversation, but Snape suddenly slammed his hands down hard on his desk.

"Nonetheless!" he barked. "It remains my belief that he is in league with the two of you and that this is another attempt at a jailbreak! And if I find any evidence whatsoever that I am right, the two of you will find yourselves gone from this school and sent somewhere far more unpleasant! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

"Yes, sir," said Harry and Hermione in unison.

Snape moved from behind his desk again and walked in front of the two students, peering at each in turn, seeming determined to find some trace of deception in their eyes. But Harry and Hermione remained stoic. Harry felt his pulse quicken slightly as Snape's gaze lingered longer on Hermione. He tried to dismiss the ridiculous fear that her magic had somehow marked her for all to see.

"You should both have a care," Snape continued in a soft but cold voice. "You are more than overdue for a caning, Miss Granger here in particular."

Harry quickly felt his anger rise to the surface and found he could restrain it no longer.

"You horrible snake! You would use that thing on a girl?"

He got to his feet and seemed almost on the point of striking Snape.

"Harry, no!" cried Hermione.

Snape swung away from Hermione and returned quickly to Harry. He said nothing for the moment but Harry could from his blotching complexion that the headmaster was angrier than he had been at any point since they had first entered his office.

"This is a prison school, Mr. Potter," he finally said very slowly, with forced calm. "And as headmaster, I have the authority to use corporal punishment on any of my inmates insofar as they endanger the safety of this school and, most importantly, those outside it." He returned to stand in front of Hermione again and peered down at her but continued to address Harry. "I would remind you, however, Potter, that her fate - and yours - rests with yourself. Neither of you will come to harm so long as you do as I say. Should you see this guard again or should any previous forgotten conversation miraculously return to your memories, I expect you to tell me immediately." He swung his head sharply back to Harry. "Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Miss Granger?"

"Yes, sir."

Harry's heart sank as he heard a noticeable tremble in Hermione's voice. Nor had it seemed to escape Snape's attention as he smiled cruelly in response.

"Good," he said. "NOW GET OUT!"

Flinching in spite of himself at yet another of Snape's sudden outbursts, Harry made his way quickly to the door, followed closely by Hermione.

***

It was not until the door to his office closed with a final click that Snape allowed himself the luxury of exhaling. He felt a deep fatigue wash over him and sincerely hoped that Sister Barnes would not poke her infernal habit into the office to ask how the meeting had gone. He looked quickly down at his hand and found that as soon as he did so, it began trembling again as though moved by a self-fulfilling prophecy. He did not try to fight the sensation this time as it worked its way throughout his body, making him shake heavily as though plunged into an icy lake. When the sensation finally subsided, Snape quickly made for the video screen again, as though in doing so, he would be somehow able to take some measure of action over a mystery he seemed powerless to solve.

Snape placed a chalk white sweat-covered finger on the frame advance button. The guard whose likeness had been frozen on the screen advanced and the camera image panned back to reveal him standing in front of the sports equipment shed on the playground. A few seconds later, Potter emerged into the picture. Snape continued to hold the button down and the talk advanced quickly; he had already viewed it a number of times before. Finally, he reached the end. It was the same as before: Potter began to walk away from the guard, apparently returning to the school. Before he had completely walked out of the frame of the picture, however, the screen flickered and both he and the guard vanished. The next image showed an empty picture of the playground. Snape rewound and advanced the image again several times. Snape did not notice anything new but he confirmed what he had noticed the first time:

The counter on the screen had advanced with the flickering of the picture. At least two minutes had been erased from the tape. What had happened during those two minutes? Was there a fault with the equipment? No, somehow Snape didn't believe that for an instant. But who could have tampered with the tape? Snape was obsessive about keeping his office locked: not Sister Barnes, nor the cleaning nun, nor anyone else had a key. Sister Umbridge had remonstrated with him about this during her last visit but he had refused to concede his authority to her on the matter. Then how had the change been made? The problem had vexed Snape ever since he had discovered it earlier on in the week. Moreover, he felt the uncomfortable sensation that he and his authority had been violated. Snape's fear of chaos threatened to possess his body again but he resisted it. He was going to get to the bottom of this. He would restore order to this school.

Yet even as Snape thought this, another increasingly familiar voice in his head began to question his motives and actions. The guard had vanished before Snape could question him. And he had been following Granger whom Snape knew to have been involved in a jailbreak. Surely together with the tape, this was enough evidence to enlist the help of other authorities. If there was a jailbreak at work - or worse, an insurrection - Snape would have no shortage of difficulty trying to explain why he had not acted sooner - assuming he survived.

Yet nonetheless Snape had told no one. Not Sister Barnes - and not Sister Umbridge. And however irrational it still seemed, Snape knew that he wasn't going to tell them. Umbridge would be angry to be sure but somehow Snape had decided that he simply did not trust her. He had no real reason not to, he kept telling himself, and his suspicions about her were baseless and irrational. Moreover, Snape had never been one tempted to listen to intuition, but on this day, intuition would have its day. He would deal with the matter himself.

***

"I trust you have learned your lesson," said Sister Barnes, as Harry and Hermione walked back through the Room of Quiet Repose and out into the hallway.

There was no response.

"You needn't speak to me," Barnes cooed. "I know from your faces that you have experienced the wrath of a true servant of the Lord. Gave you a whipping, did he, Mr. Potter?"

"Oh, yes," said Harry. "A horrible one."

"Good." Sister Barnes looked so pleased with herself that she failed to notice Harry's thick sarcasm. "Let us hope that though your body has endured pain, your soul has moved that much closer to salvation. A small price to pay, don't you think?"

Neither Hermione nor Harry seemed able to stomach a response.

"I'm afraid, however," Sister Barnes went on in a voice that sounded anything but apologetic, "that your punishment has not quite over yet. It was hardly fair for your classmates to dutifully clean the kitchen while the two of you played truant, now was it? I am taking you back there. You will scrub the floor, using only a dishrag, until it is spotless. Fair, under the circumstances, don't you think?"

Harry groaned but Hermione surprised him by nodding and saying, with no apparent sarcasm:

"I think you've been most generous with us, really, Sister. Thank you."

"It is a reasonable punishment," replied Sister Barnes, her face glowing with self-righteous pleasure. "I hope you both realize now that cruelty can take young souls away from the Lord just as surely as leniency."

"Is that so?" said Harry with mock surprise that Sister Barnes once again missed.

They had reached the kitchen. Sister Barnes showed them to the rags and then left, saying that Sister Jones would return to supervise them as she had duties in the chapel that needed her attention. As soon as she left, Harry seemed about to say something, but Hermione subtly shook her head. Instead she said, quite loudly and clearly:

"Can you help me get these plates out of the bottom cupboard, Harry? I expect we'll have to clean in here as well. It's awfully moldy and dirty."

"Oh - right."

They both bent down.

"The cameras," whispered Hermione.

"Do you think they have sound as well then?" Harry whispered back.

"I'm not taking any chances."

Harry placed his hand on Hermione's arm.

"Hermione, look, we've got to stop this. I don't want anything to happen to you just because - "

"No, Harry!" Hermione hissed. "He's trying to get at you just the way he tried to get at me by caning Dean. You can't let it work!"

"But, Hermione, you had your doubts about this magic chap before we went and talked to Snape."

"Yes, and I still do. But not as much as before."

"Hermione, I don't see - "

"Oh, Harry, didn't you notice? Snape sounded very nasty all right, but really he's terrified. He's terrified of that guard. He's terrified of us. And we're going to find out why."

***

Ginny absently watched a wasp move among a small cluster of bluebells that had started to spring up at the foot of the beech tree. She still cast a warming charm around her cloak as she sat on the cold ground but it was difficult to deny that spring had sprung: January had rolled into February and February had tumbled into March. Now as April was nearer to them than February, Ginny was forced to confront the fact that the school year was nearing an end and they were still no closer to finding Harry, Hermione, Dumbledore, or some way out of this mess. She had no idea how far Voldemort's plans had advanced: the world could be on the brink of destruction and Ginny had no way of knowing, much less doing anything about it. Living in a school devoid of her friends under Umbridge's firm grip was a joyless experience, yet the weeks had seemed to pass quickly for Ginny. With only a little reflection, she knew why: as long as time had only seemed to pass slowly, that Harry hadn't really been gone for that long, she could convince herself that there was still hope he could find a way back to her. But watching the innocent flight of the wasp, she was forced to be truthful to herself that a season had passed and there was still no sign of him. Moreover, seven weeks had gone by since Luna's "experiment" on Ron and they were still no nearer to finding the mysterious glass ball which they believed held the trapped memories of the remaining Hogwarts students and staff. Luna was still relentless in searching her library for clues but Ginny was sure that what they were seeking could no longer be found in a book.

The wasp and the bluebells broke into an undefined kaleidoscope of yellows and blues as Ginny allowed her tears to flow in the only place she dared. The small shoots of green springing out from the earth seemed to shake slightly as the drops of water fell on them as though in acknowledgment of the salty nourishment. Ginny knew it wouldn't do to keep her feelings inside; she had to do that too much already in her day-to-day life at the school so she let a few cathartic sobs run their course. She tried to dwell on what little happiness she still had left in her life; after all, she didn't want to be too miserable when the world suddenly ended. She tried to be closer to her friends - even her brother - who mostly took her affection as another sign of madness.

Hagrid had been the most recent to disappear. She had gone to see him just after Valentine's Day hoping to drown her sorrows, only to find that as far as everyone else was concerned, he'd never existed. Now the only people left in the empty halls of the school were Voldemort's precious pure blood wizards and the corridors were as dark and lonely as his soul was black. They'd kept the half-bloods, though, all except Harry, and Ginny had a shrewd idea why.

Still, she thought, trying desperately to re-focus her thoughts on the positive, there was always Potions, which in the absence of one hooked-nose professor who lived only in her memories, had become an interesting, even enjoyable escape. Professor Harmon's witty and self-deprecating humor was the only thing anymore that made her laugh, even though she wasn't sure what she had to laugh about. She still had Quidditch, also. Umbridge hadn't managed to take that away quite yet, presumably because it underscored how pathetic the other houses seemed against the fully stocked Slytherin side. It was now two days before Ginny's team faced that side and she was determined to take her team down fighting if nothing else.

Ginny was looking forward to the Quidditch game for another reason, too: she might have a chance to vent some of her pent-up frustrations on Malfoy. He had remained elusive, of course, though occasionally he would stare at her in the corridors with a knowing, almost taunting look that told Ginny he still remembered everything. She wondered how much he really understood of the Death Eaters' plans, whether he truly comprehended the insanity Voldemort was about to unleash. Perhaps he had become insane himself. At times, he certainly looked it. Still, with her as Chaser and Malfoy as the Slytherin Seeker, it seemed likely he would take himself - quite literally - above the fray again.

In a burst of frustration, Ginny picked up a small stone from the ground and flung it onto the grassy lawn of the castle ahead of her. If only she had some kind of hope, some sort of -

Ginny stopped herself in mid-thought. She had just heard - or thought she had heard - a sharp flutter of wings, much louder and more powerful that the flitting sounds of the small birds that had frequented the tree in recent weeks. In fact, it sounded just like -

Ginny did not complete her thought before staring sharply up into the tree. There, to her amazement and heart-pounding hope, she found her gaze sharply returned by a large, unmistakable snowy-white owl.

"Hedwig!" she exclaimed. "Hedwig, what - "

If Hedwig shared Ginny's enthusiasm, she did not show it. Instead, she fixed her human companion with a furtive, anxious expression - if such a thing were possible from an owl - and let out a warning hoot. Ginny understood quickly that she was afraid of being seen and heard by others but she was nonetheless determined to get some answers while Hedwig was there, assuming she could communicate with Ginny in some manner, and Ginny was certain she could. Maybe she even knew where Harry was. Maybe she had come from -

Ginny's thoughts were interrupted again as a small rolled-up parchment dropped from Hedwig's leg and fell quietly down through the branches of the tree before landing in her open hands. She had no sooner caught it when she heard another sharp flutter of wings. Ginny looked up quickly only to find that Hedwig had gone.

"Hedwig!" she cried again. "Hedwig, wait! What if I want to - "

Ginny searched the skies and the trees in the forest behind her but there was no sign of the owl at all. Obviously, the owner of the letter did not want her to respond.

A sharp, stinging sensation in her palms returned Ginny's attention quickly to the parchment. She gasped as she noticed it had started to smolder at the edges. Remembering clearly the timed incineration charm she had placed on a secretive letter to Hermione at a time when snagging Harry Potter was one of the only things she had needed to worry about, Ginny quickly untied the string and scanned the message before the wisps of smoke curling swiftly from the edges could consume the parchment altogether.

The message was short; the ink slightly smudged from travel, but the long narrow handwriting was unmistakable.

I'm sorry this is taken so long. It's not easy to perform a recipient de-sensitive Disillusionment Charm on an owl.

Reports of our demise have been exaggerated. My friend and I were helped to escape just before the memory charm was applied. We are in a safe place. I'm sorry about your other friend but our faithful companion is with him now. We are trying to get him back. We are trying to get you out as well. Say and do nothing that will put yourself in further danger.

Have faith in your friends; they are your strength.

A Foolish Old Man Who Neither Knows nor Understands

P.S. Stay close to the house elves

Ginny's eyes had barely scanned over the last word when the letter exploded into flame. She dropped it like a hot coal. It had not even reached the ground before vanishing completely leaving not the slightest trace of ash on the virgin grass beneath Ginny's feet. Ginny stared at the ground where the message should have fallen. Like everything else that had disappeared from her life, it was now no more than a memory, yet Ginny refused to believe it was anything other than real.

Dumbledore was safe. And he had some sort of plan. Ginny felt far more hopeful than she had in weeks, so hopeful in fact that she smiled, then giggled, and even let out a mad hooping laugh over something other than a potion.

But a moment later, she frowned again. As always, Dumbledore's explanations seemed to leave her with more questions than answers. Where exactly was he? What did he mean he would "get her out" and what about the others? Did he really have a plan to stop Voldemort or was he still just as much in the dark as she was? And what on earth did he mean - "stay close to the house elves?"

Ginny let out a sigh and finding no better plan, picked up her bag, and began a slow walk back to the school.

***

"Good luck," said Hermione. She leaned in closer. "Please don't use any magic."

Harry smirked and the two friends shared a conspiratorial look. Then Dean moved over, tapped Harry on the shoulder, and the two players went out onto the pitch for the penultimate football game of the season.

Hermione turned and walked away, idly spinning a netball on her finger. She was stopped, however, when a familiar hand took hold of her shoulder.

"Where are you going?" asked Lavender.

"I'm going to play netball - see?" Hermione held out the ball for Lavender to examine as one might a new toy to a small child.

Lavender frowned. She leaned in closer to Hermione.

"Blokes don't like it when you don't watch their games."

"Is that so?" replied Hermione innocently. "And which bloke should I be watching?"

Lavender smiled deviously. "Oh, please stop pretending, Hermione. You've been snogging him for weeks now. And during church, too. Really, I'm surprised you haven't been caught."

Hermione's satisfaction in baiting Lavender's love of gossip quickly vanished, replaced by the gnawing tension that never seemed far from the surface of her thoughts. How did Lavender know they'd been missing during church?

The last few weeks had been fantastic, so fantastic that Hermione had stopped pondering them: doing so just twisted her thoughts into knots and made her head spin. She had seen and done things she had never thought possible. And after running out of explanations for those things, she had slowly begun to accept the version of events that had been offered by the mysterious man who called himself Sirius. Harry was, too, and though he had not said so explicitly, Hermione could see he was beginning to accept Sirius as his godfather. A corner of Hermione's mind still told her it was dangerous for her to trust so much, especially at this school. But she also knew in her heart of hearts that she had gone so far with it all that it would already be a tremendous blow if she found now later that the whole thing had just been one great hoax. It would probably be even worse for Harry, though, she reflected. At least Hermione could still take comfort in the love of her family. Harry had no one - and he was beginning to rely on Sirius as the family he'd never had.

Sirius hadn't been seen on the playground again after the day she and Harry had been called to Snape's office. It seemed he was one step ahead of the headmaster, although Hermione wasn't sure exactly how - but then many things about Sirius were very difficult to explain.

One week after they had first met Sirius in the pantry storage room and been discovered by Sister Barnes, she and Harry had been standing together in the chapel for Sunday morning mass. They had felt slightly surprised and extremely apprehensive when Sister Jones had walked up and taken them away by the hand just after the first reading. She had guided them firmly - but without explanation - to a little used classroom in the adjacent wing. And there, before their very eyes, her face had changed, and they had found themselves looking at the guard they had met the week before - and then again at a straggly long-haired, bearded man in tattered robes.

Hermione had screamed very loudly, only dimly aware of Harry's protests beside her. She had wanted to run away very badly - out into the hallway, back to the church, or away from this horrible school. But she hadn't. It was only through the force of her will and exploding curiosity that Hermione had managed to keep her feet squarely planted in the classroom and forced herself to listen to what this Sirius had had to say.

And it had gone on like that every Sunday morning. After that, Hermione and Harry had just walked out by themselves - always in the same way, after the first reading. The whole thing was madness: normally, if anyone dared to leave chapel during Sunday morning service, they would find themselves swiftly confronted by Sister Barnes. One had to beg and plead for a visit to the toilet. But as she and Harry had left the chapel each Sunday morning for each of the past few weeks, no one had so much as batted an eyelash. Hermione didn't know how except that it was all somehow part of the magic that Sirius practiced.

Sirius's "memory charms" as he called them were the least of the wonders Harry and Hermione had been shown during their special lessons. The strange man who had come into their midst could make flowers appear out of thin air, desks fly, and people change their colors to blend into the background like chameleons. What was more: she and Harry had learned to practice magic themselves. Moving objects had been just the beginning: they had learned conjuring, levitation, and even a few of what Sirius called "defensive spells." They had real wands now, not just sticks with bits of feathers sticking out. Hermione kept hers in her pocket everywhere she went and under her pillow at night lest it be discovered. She clearly recalled her excitement three weeks before when she found she had left her pen in a previous class and had discreetly conjured a new one.

But though she almost could not help but trust Sirius now after all he had shown them, Hermione also knew there were many things he still wasn't telling them. He had said their memories had been taken away but they didn't know by whom or why. Nor did they know how he had come to the school. Sometimes, Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that they were being prepared for some sort of purpose, but she had little clue as to what that purpose could be.

For the first few weeks, it had been just her and Harry, but then other students had joined, each of them first led away from the chapel service by one of the nuns who later turned out to be Sirius in disguise. Some were from the original group Hermione had described in her diary which she was starting to believe was the truth: Colin and his brother Dennis had joined and most recently, Arabella. Hermione was most glad she had been included. She had insisted on being there when Sirius had first led Arabella away from the chapel and had held her younger friend's hand when she'd predictably screamed at his change in appearance. Sirius seemed to delight in his disguises and the first magic to which every new student in the group was witness involved his transformations. As he had said once, shock and contradiction were the best teachers of the unknown and impossible.

Sirius had also introduced new students that had not been mentioned in Hermione's diary: a boy named Euan Abercrombie and a girl called Eloise Midgen. He seemed to know who all the magicians were. Maybe he could see some hidden talent in them. He had told them there were others - including Lavender and Dean - but he needed to introduce each into the group slowly.

But now Lavender seemed to have noticed what others did not, although she had reached her predictably erroneous conclusion about what Harry and Hermione's disappearances really meant. Hermione broke herself out of her reverie to notice that her roommate continued to stand in place, staring at her with an all-knowing smirk which Hermione desperately wanted to wipe away.

"Lavender, if you tell anyone...."

Hermione was content to let Lavender believe she had scored some sort of symbolic victory in their contest of wills if it would keep her from babbling. Not that anyone would believe her, Hermione hoped, if it contradicted what they apparently falsely remembered. Still....

Hermione felt almost relieved when Lavender responded with a very self-satisfied smile. "Why do you think I would tell anyone?"

Hermione chose not to respond.

"I'm proud of you, actually, Hermione. I didn't think you had it in you. But I still don't see how you're getting away with it."

"That will still have to be my secret for now, but if you really want to know, you could come with us on Sunday."

Hermione bit her lip as soon as the suggestion had left her mouth. Still, Lavender wouldn't have allowed her curiosity to go unsatisfied for too long without talking. She only hoped that Sirius could cover for her.

"What? When you two go snogging?"

Hermione could not completely restrain a smirk.

"Just to learn how we do it. Getting away from church, that is. Unless you're afraid, of course?"

Hermione watched as her roommate seemed to fight an internal battle between her infamous sense of curiosity and her better judgment. Hermione was not surprised when the curiosity won.

"All right," she said. "I suppose you wouldn't trick me into falling afoul of the nuns."

Hermione held her hands out in a gesture of innocence. "Believe me, Lavender, I'd never wish anyone on the nuns."

Lavender studied Hermione again but she seemed satisfied this time and gave her roommate a short nod.

"I still think you should stay and watch the game."

"To each her own."

Hermione quickly turned away, netball still in hand, before Lavender could ask her any more questions.

***

Ginny could already hear the deafening roar of the crowd as the Gryffindor Quidditch team stood in the locker room waiting to go out onto the field. She was heartened to know that Gryffindor vs. Slytherin still provoked so much passion even if most of the enthusiasm was directed toward the team whose players hadn't disappeared into another dimension. Looking at her rag-tag charges, she was disheartened to see that the sound outside seemed to them more intimidating than stirring. Had the famous Gryffindor courage succumbed to frequent failures and botched practices? Or, in this reality, had the Sorting Hat been forced to let cowards into the house just to keep up a minimum quota?

Ginny wisely kept both of these thoughts to herself. Her team needed as much confidence-boosting as Ginny could conjure. And it would have be a conjuring act indeed.

"Slytherin has the best team, we know that," she began, not at all sure how her sentence was going to end. Jack Sloper gave her an ominous nod. "But none of that matters."

Ginny paused for a moment, half-expecting to find herself contradicted, but when there was no response, she continued to plow on:

"Gryffindor and Slytherin have a proud rivalry. And Slytherin has not always won - "

"They haven't?" asked a slightly terrified-looking third year Chaser named Sarah, who, as far as Ginny could recall, hadn't even been a student at Hogwarts in the reality she remembered.

"No," replied Ginny, sighing slightly. "They haven't. And they won't always. As long as we - "

There was a loud shuffling of footsteps. Neville Longbottom, his robes askew and his hair as ruly as a hedgehog's came running into the changing room. Neville had first shown up to practice the week after Harry had disappeared. Ginny wasn't quite sure what position he played since, by her account, there were now one too many Chasers on the team. But on top of the embarrassment of not realizing she was captain of the team, she had not yet been able to stomach any more questions to which she was already supposed to know the answer.

"A - a - am I late?" Neville croaked.

"No, Neville," replied Ginny, trying to keep her voice neutral.

"I - I - I lost my Remembrall," Neville tried to explain. "I - I couldn't remember I'd forgotten anything."

"Don't worry, Neville, you're not the only one, believe me," Ginny muttered under her breath. She sighed again and took one last look at her team. She could just have led them out onto the field but she decided she still had one more thing to say:

"All I wanted to say was... everyone thinks Slytherin has the better side. Maybe they do, but ten Slytherins don't have the heart of even one Gryffindor. We've beaten Hufflepuff already."

Ginny broke off and looked around at her team, hoping that no one would contradict the result she remembered from a different reality the previous term. When no one spoke up and, slightly heartened, Ginny pressed on:

"And Ravenclaw upset Slytherin. I know we can beat Ravenclaw. If we can win this game, the cup is ours. It's easy to be on the side with the most people, to support the side that everyone cheers for. It's much harder to be the smaller team in the smaller and less popular house. That's what takes real courage. And that's what being in Gryffindor is really about."

Ginny had reached the end of her thoughts. She wasn't at all sure whether she had said anything inspiring and cast around in her mind for something to add, but then the sound of a distant whistle signaled to them that it was time to move onto the pitch. Gripping her broomstick in her hand like a sword, she turned around and led her team out into the bright glare of a cool, clear early spring day.

***

The midfielder from Barringer Wing was taller than Harry, far more powerfully built, and obviously knew his way around a football pitch far better than he, but that didn't stop Harry from moving right into his path. He had been faked once by this chap but he wouldn't let it happen again. Harry briefly stared into the hardened steel of his adversary's cobalt eyes and wondered what violent crime had found him in this school. But then he forced his attention down to the ball. "Keep your eyes on the ball," was what Dean was always telling him. He knew he had looked up too soon in the last play and he was certain it had made him far easier to fake. He was not going to make the same mistake again.

His opponent seemed as dexterous as he was strong and his feet moved back and forth with a dancer's nimbleness as he tried to step around Harry. But Harry refused to commit. His opponent was forced to try to run around to his right but with a burst of speed, Harry cut him off and made contact with the ball. He kept his feet closed as Dean had taught him to do as he tackled over the ball with his opponent. Finally, Harry gained clean possession and moved the ball ahead. He successfully faked his way around his opponent who found himself pursuing Harry back into his own zone.

Harry heard a shout further to his left and saw Dean who was playing left forward running alongside him in the clear. The roar of the supporting students grew in volume and Harry knew he was part of a serious scoring chance for his team. Harry forced the euphoria at his achievement aside, however, as he concentrated on keeping the ball out ahead of him. He was getting closer to the goal now and could see the Barringer keeper edging further out, studying the play anxiously to try and anticipate Harry's next move. Looking straight ahead to the Keeper, Harry faked a shot and then passed across to Dean. A step back from Harry and still onside, Dean pulled his foot back and let go a shot. It was hard but a little bit wide and the ball bounced off the side goalpost and then sailed high in the air and came straight back toward Harry.

It was an unusually clear day - the clearest they had seen for some while. Harry watched the ball as it twirled through the sky. He didn't like it but he knew what he had to do next: it was the shot Dean had taught him in practice, the shot any good striker had to possess, the shot that could give them the sure goal should Harry make good contact - the scissor kick.

Harry could hear the pounding of the defender's feet just behind him as the ball neared and then the crunch of his body as they both jockeyed for position. Finally, as the ball arched almost over his head, Harry planted his hands on the ground. His eyes darting back and forth quickly between his now upside-down opponent and the ball, Harry wheeled his whole body back into the shot, arched his feet up to make contact -

And missed.

Harry's feet collapsed sideways and his back hit the ground hard as he fell awkwardly out of the attempted shot. He heard but did not see the ball bouncing off the midfielder's head. Laughter rang out from the Barringer supporters and Harry's opponent made his way back up the field with the ball.

Harry was still looking up at the sky, his back stinging, when Dean ran breathlessly over, moving into his line of sight.

"Are you all right?" he asked, offering a hand which Harry took.

Harry forced himself painfully into a standing position.

"I - I don't think they're stopping play," said Dean breathlessly, one eye up the field where Barringer was mounting an attack. "Just - just don't look at the defender - keep your eye on the ball."

And with that, Dean tore back up the field.

"'Keep my eye on the ball,' right," Harry muttered sighing. And then, ignoring the pain, he got up and followed Dean.

***

Madam Hooch's replacement (though no one remembered him as such) was a thin, wiry wizard with slightly graying temples and an extremely nervous constitution. Ron had told Ginny he'd once been a Chaser for the Chudley Cannons but Ginny couldn't help but think this must have been a long time ago. In the short time that she'd known him, Ginny hadn't so much as seen him mount a broom. She was convinced that if he did, Mr. Peebles would likely faint or fall off, or possibly both.

Seeming deaf to the increasing crescendo of the crowd around him, Peebles moved to the center of the pitch. Ginny found she would have given anything for one of Madam Hooch's pep talks if it would have restored normalcy to the school. It seemed that all that Peebles could stomach was moving into the center of the pitch, nervously opening the trunk; releasing the Bludgers, Snitch, and Quaffle; and quickly recoiling to the side stands, a pair of Omnioculars his only tool in judging the game.

Since Peebles just released the Quaffle from the box into the air instead of throwing it up as Madam Hooch had done, it never got much height. Ginny saw two Slytherin Chasers head toward it but she had anticipated better and fell into a sharp dive. The strength of Harry's old Firebolt propelled her downward to the Quaffle ahead of them. Before they could react, she swooped sharply up again and looked up the field, hoping to see one of her teammates out ahead of her. The only player who seemed open was Neville. Seeing that he didn't have a club in his hand, Ginny hoped he was a fellow Chaser. He looked slightly surprised as she threw the Quaffle quickly up in his direction but managed to grab it and make his way steadily up the pitch, dodging a Bludger on the way. Ginny guided her Firebolt forward and accelerated past him, hoping he would pass forward to her.

The commentary, provided by a squeaky third-year Hufflepuff named Tobias White who had been given the position before his voice had started to change, became increasingly animated as they moved up the field. Ginny felt a surge of adrenalin as she realized they had succeeded in manufacturing an early breakaway against the Slytherin side. If they could score here, albeit largely on the strength of her own efforts, perhaps the team would begin to believe it could pull off an upset against their stronger and faster opponents.

She looked across and saw that Neville was still moving slowly. She yelled at him to pass. He looked across at her slightly strangely for a moment as though he hadn't heard her properly. Feeling exasperated and fearing the defending Slytherin Chasers would gain on them, Ginny yelled out to him again. She could have sworn Neville had given her a slight shrug of his shoulders just before he heaved the Quaffle underhanded in her direction just before a Slytherin Chaser closed in on him.

Ginny reached back a little and grabbed the Quaffle, then moved in alone on the Slytherin Keeper McShane who shifted across to intercept her. She quickly decided she would fake to the nearest hoop on her left before angling the Quaffle back through the hoop at the furthest right. It was a difficult shot but Ginny had tried it many times on Ron in practice and she was confident she would succeed. She wouldn't shoot right away, though; she needed to edge in closer first.

Ginny could hear Tobias's commentary rising in pitch like the cry of a frightened bird, but she ignored its content, concentrating instead on the forming play. She also heard boos and hisses growing louder from the largely partisan Slytherin crowd as she neared the hoops. But Ginny fought back a surge of righteous anger that the booing was drowning the cheers of the depleted Gryffindor supporters. She knew it was attempt to distract her from her game and she wasn't about to allow it to succeed. She glided in, almost on top of the Keeper, and had already thrown her fake, when the sharp unmistakable sound of Peebles's whistle forced her to stop. She followed McShane's gaze down to the pitch where Peebles was now running and flailing his arms in the air, the Slytherin captain Hall by his side.

Ginny was unable to restrain her feelings of anger and injustice this time. It was bad enough that all the odds had been stacked against them. Now, when they might have had the chance to achieve some small victory against all those odds, even that had been snatched unscrupulously from them: why had Peebles stopped the play? Ginny hadn't fouled anyone. No Slytherin player had gotten anywhere near her. Still holding onto the Quaffle, Ginny sped quickly down to the pitch, stopping very sharply in front of Peebles who flinched and took a step backwards.

"What were you doing?" demanded Hall.

"Trying to score! Or is that against the rules for any side playing against Slytherin?" Ginny shot back.

Several other Gryffindor and Slytherin players had flown down onto the field now. Ginny tried to ignore - once again - how big the Slytherin players were and how eager they seemed for a scrum then and there on the pitch.

Peebles cleared his throat nervously and Ginny turned her burning eyes to him.

"I - I hate to interrupt this friendly conversation between two captains but might I point out, Miss Weasley, that you play the position of Seeker on this team and the Seeker does not normally handle the Quaffle and score."

Ginny was about to deliver a sharp retort when she caught the bewildered expressions on the faces of her own teammates. Ron shook his head very slightly. There was a very long pause during which Ginny opened her mouth up and down like a wordless fish.

"Oh," she said finally. "I see."

***

On the same afternoon on another pitch in a different dimension, a bright round white ball a little larger than a Quaffle was being placed at the intersection of two white lines at its far right corner. Dean Thomas stepped back from the football and looked up thoughtfully at his teammates.

The spring sun was moving down fast in the sky now and the shadows of the team and the ball were lengthening. The game was a three-three draw. Personally, Dean had never liked draws and he knew the nuns wouldn't stop the school to let the game go on much longer. He and Harry had moved in hard on the keeper and forced him to kick the ball out of bounds. As a result, his team had now been awarded a corner kick. Dean knew that with little time remaining, this was their best chance to win.

But as Dean scanned the play, he could see that the Barringer fullbacks had his forwards closely guarded. Justin Finch-Fetchley kept jostling for position with Philip Stone, a sturdy defender whom rumor had it had been placed in the school for something rather nasty: he was also, Dean knew, a very able player. Behind him Mark Jones seemed equally tied up with another defender whose name Dean couldn't remember.

Compared with them, Harry was somewhat more open, but he was standing back from the play. His defender had moved further out in front of him to be nearer the thick of the scrum where the ball was sure to arc through. But the defender was still in his way. Dean knew that if he hit the ball on the ground, it would never get through the pile of players to Harry. On the other hand, the defender was standing far enough out in front of Harry that if Dean hit it through the air and it went over his head, Harry would surely gain possession with a good chance to score.

Dean frowned at this thought, however. It was not that he didn't think Harry had a good enough shot. But it was likely the ball would still be in the air by the time it reached him. He had picked Harry to the team because he had proved an excellent dribbler and he didn't have a half-bad shot but anything in the air seemed to cause trouble. He hadn't quite mastered heading and then there was the scissor kick.

Sister Adams was looking impatient and Dean knew he had to kick the ball right away or risk being accused of stalling. He had all but decided to try and hit Justin with a short pass when something made his foot lift and guide the football out in Harry's direction. As he watched its flight, Dean couldn't help but feel an irrational confidence that whatever ball sailed through the air would be mastered by Harry before too long. He watched the defender guarding Harry open his eyes wide as the ball went over his head. He tried to run back to meet it, realizing it would fall into Harry's possession, but the ball was moving too fast. Dean watched, his heart pounding loudly, as Harry focused his eyes on the ball, then put his hands on the ground and curled his feet into the shot like a springing jack-in-the-box.

Harry didn't get all of the ball but it was enough to redirect it toward into the top corner of the net. The Barringer keeper tried to leap up toward it but he was too late. Dean watched its flight in disbelief. A second later, he saw Mark and Justin running toward him, screaming in victory and lifting him up off his feet. Dean's eyes were still fixed on Harry, however, who had fallen flat on his back again and appeared to be in some pain. But he could not conceal a large grin as he ran over to his fallen teammate and held out his hand, which Harry took.

"I knew you could do it, mate!"

Harry winced in pain. "Yeah," he managed. "But I think my back is broken."

"Never mind that. We're in the lead and we're surely going to win now!"

"Yeah, we're surely going to win," repeated Harry. He managed a weak smile before letting go of Dean's arm and collapsing back to the ground.

***

Luna Lovegood opened a thick, moldy page to the thirty-second chapter of The E.T. in our Owleries: What the Ministry Isn't Telling You and scanned it closely. Ginny continued to insist that aliens had nothing to do with the memory losses but Luna couldn't see what made her so sure. Besides, Luna wasn't very good at looking for disguised glass balls but she did know how to research a banned book. And if these books could be believed (and she couldn't see why not; why would the Ministry ban anything if they thought it was made up and nonsense?), then extra-terrestrial beings had used mass memory charms to conceal a number of botched attempts at inter-planetary colonization. She was fairly certain that another attempt was in progress and the longer it went on, the more likely it was to succeed. Sighing, Luna recalled a time when she had thought that the xenophobes were just shy; how could she have been so naïve?

This book had claimed to uncover all the Ministry's secrets about the invasion plans but only in this chapter had it begun to address the disguises the aliens assumed. Luna knew that the Quidditch game had probably already started but she was far too engrossed to stop reading now.

Luna's eyes widened. "I'm sure there's a little first-year Hufflepuff who looks just like that," she said aloud. "And he wasn't here before this year. Very suspicious. I wonder if - "

Luna paused. There was what sounded like a scuffling noise coming from somewhere near her feet.

"That's odd," she said, looking around. "What - "

Before Luna could finish her sentence, a primal scream erupted under the desk.

"Shakespeare? Shakespeare, where are you going? What's wrong?"

A large fat mass of green fur which had been curled around Luna's feet escaped from behind her desk and sprinted across to the floor to the far end, wheezing and hissing all the way to the Carnivorous Cauldrons section. Just ahead of it was a slightly overweight rat, its tail flickering back and forth anxiously, and its heart thumping visibly as it tried to escape from becoming Shakespeare's afternoon snack.

The rat reached the bookshelves and ran quickly up and through the bindings and toward the exit of the trunk. Shakespeare was not as used to climbing and the rat had gained some distance but as it reached the top and found the door closed, its hungry pursuer slowly began to close in, stalking the last few meters as he sensed his kill.

"Oh, no." Luna gave a small gasp and took out her wand. "Alohomora."

The door to the trunk flew open and the rat leapt back through the opening. Shakespeare moved to follow but Luna quickly charmed the door shut.

Shakespeare reserved his loudest cry for his master and sulked methodically back to the desk. Luna ignored him until he leapt up on top of the book she had returned to reading and began hissing at her. Even after that, she still took her time before glancing back at him reproachfully.

"That's not a very nice sound, now is it?" she said. "Here." She reached into her pocket and took out a tired looking piece of bread which seemed to have been smuggled away from lunch. She held it out to Shakespeare who snapped it up quickly.

"That's much better," Luna declared. "I don't think we want rat blood all over the bookshelves. Some of these books are very precious and the Ministry rarely needs to ban things twice." Luna paused. "Though I do wonder how that rat found its way in here. Must have come in when I opened the trunk."

Luna frowned for a moment but then turned her attention back to her book. She looked up a few moments later, however, looking slightly puzzled. She had seen something in the Carnivorous Cauldrons stacks just then that hadn't been right. Squinting up in their direction, Luna caught it again, flashing in the corner of her eye.

"That's a bit odd," she said aloud again. Shakespeare purred as if in response, then began sniffing the floor, apparently hoping to pick up the trail of the rat again.

Luna got up out of her seat again and walked over slowly to the bookshelves. The out-of-place object continued to catch her eye.

"That's funny. I thought only the Atomic Potions books glowed."

Walking closer, she reached up on tiptoe, and took a book out of her hands. The light from the object behind it cast a bright red glow over her face.

"There you are," she said, taking the object out from inside. "My, you have grown large, haven't you? And how ever did you find your way there?"

***

Ginny tried to put the whole thing out of her mind. They had a game to win and her team had done remarkably well under the circumstances. They were holding Slytherin to a thirty-point lead - 70-40 - mostly thanks to several spectacular saves by Ron.

She was up above the play now and they still had the chance to win as long as she could find the Snitch before Malfoy. She preferred it this way, she told herself. Now she could look the Death Eater in the eye and show him that after everything he'd done this year, he still hadn't crushed her spirit. And she was damned if he was going to catch the Snitch before she did.

Yet even as Ginny felt the anger and determination surge through her, she couldn't help but steal a look down at the play to see her erstwhile fellow Chaser Susan Richards badly fumble a pass to Neville. The Slytherin Chaser Wainwright easily stole the Quaffle and hurled through the hoop before Ron had even realized his team had lost possession. Part of Ginny itched to take her old position back. At least she had kept their defense mostly in check. And what had she been telling Susan all during practice? Ginny took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down. She tried to remind herself that she should have left those worries behind in practice. There she could be a captain and a coach - now she was the Seeker. Ginny was fairly sure Harry wouldn't have been caught watching the play when he was supposed to be looking for the Snitch.

But as soon as Ginny looked back ahead of her to spot the flash of the Snitch in the air, she found to her horror that Malfoy was diving hard toward a spot just to the right of the Slytherin posts on the opposite side of the field. Grabbing the handle of her broomstick as though she were pulling on the reins of a horse, Ginny sped hard toward him. Her Firebolt surged forward at her will but Malfoy was much too far ahead of her. Cursing herself a hundred times over for having let her attention wander, Ginny only hoped the Snitch would make itself too difficult for Malfoy to catch. She seemed to get her way when she saw him start to swoop and turn in circles in the air. He held his gloved hand out in front of him but so far had grabbed only air.

Ginny still couldn't see the Snitch herself but she knew how difficult it could be to pick up when it was cutting and dicing through the air. As she moved closer and closer to Malfoy, she began to think that she might have a chance to catch up to him.

The crowd started to react to their play. Ginny had almost reached the lower goal posts through which Malfoy had been circling when he suddenly swooped up straight for her. Ginny pulled up sharply on her Firebolt to stop just as Malfoy did the same, inches from her face. Neither flinched.

"Looking for something, Ginny?"

Ginny forced herself not to back away from Malfoy's stare. Malfoy seemed to be sizing up her nerve and Ginny was determined not to show any weakness. Yet something in his eyes made her suddenly far more afraid than she had felt when their broomsticks had been about to collide. There was an odd determination and depth that she had never before seen in his normally nonchalant and slightly disconcerted demeanor. She sensed right away that he had planned this encounter.

"I told you never to call me Ginny," she finally replied.

"Did you?" Malfoy replied coolly, raising an eyebrow. "I suppose I must have forgotten. Perhaps my memory isn't what it used to be."

"I'd love to stay and chat, Malfoy, but if you're not chasing the Snitch then I have a game to play."

Ginny angled her Firebolt back toward the field of play but Malfoy's hand closed over the top of its shaft and he swung both broomstick and rider back to face him.

"Hey!"

"A word of advice in your ear, Ginny. A good Seeker always chases the Snitch, never the other team's Seeker." He leaned in closer and Ginny winced as she smelt his breath on her face. "Potter would never have done that, you know. I'm surprised he didn't tell you. But then again, I don't suppose he had the chance to do much coaching before he left."

Something inside Ginny snapped. Before she knew what she was doing, her fist had flown up hard at Malfoy's face, but he flinched away from her with surprising quickness. He then righted himself and disentangled his broomstick from hers. She felt her insides burn with anger as he hovered a few feet away from her, a smirk dancing across his face.

"You won't get away with this," she hissed, hoping she sounded braver than she felt. "You haven't stopped us - any of us."

"Really? Do go on, Ginny. I'd love to hear all about your plans."

Before Ginny could muster a retort, she heard a familiar whirring sound in her ear. She looked up quickly to see the Snitch dancing in front of her. She made a quick grab but it flew out of her grasp. It danced playfully in front of Malfoy's head for a moment and then zipped out further to field.

Ginny quickly aimed her Firebolt down under Malfoy and out back toward the field in pursuit. She effortlessly weaved and turned her broomstick but keeping her eyes on the small, fast-moving ball with the distracting background of the crowds behind it was a very difficult matter. She hoped Malfoy wouldn't be able to keep pursuit, especially at the speed they were traveling but then she heard rather than saw the Snitch turn sharply to her right, then sharply back toward the goalpost so that, in following it, Ginny found herself once again in a head-on collision with Malfoy. Ginny's heart sank as she saw the Snitch heading directly into his gloved hand almost as if he had willed it there. She kept flying toward it, though, determined not to let it out of her sight. The crowd seemed to take in a sharp collective breath as the two seekers barreled toward each other, the Snitch in between them. Finally, the Snitch within his grasp, Malfoy held out his hand for it.

And then, at the last minute, he veered underneath the golden ball and collided with Ginny. Too shocked to react, Ginny felt him seize her broomstick and body in a vice-like grip. Earth and sky merged as they tumbled around and around. When they finally righted themselves, they were heading toward the goalposts once again, the Snitch now fluttering a few dozen yards ahead of them.

"What are you doing, Malfoy? You had the Snitch! LET ME GO!"

"But I gave it up for a much nicer prize," said a sickening voice in her ear.

Ginny squirmed in Malfoy's embrace even as she tried to hold onto her Firebolt which was clattering hard against Malfoy's Nimbus 2002.

"I'm warning you, Malfoy!"

"Warning me what? Why do you resist me so, Ginny? I told you before, none of your friends are coming back. Potter isn't coming back, either. Wouldn't it be easier just to let everything go?"

Ginny tried to free her hand to strike the Slytherin Seeker but Malfoy kept his arms locked around her body with surprising strength. She heard the gasps of the crowd but as yet, no foul had been called.

"If you'd only stop struggling we can catch the Snitch together, Ginny."

Ginny forced her gaze ahead to see that they were once again gaining on the Snitch. Malfoy seemed to be using the speed from her own Firebolt to pursue it. As they flew within grabbing distance, Ginny suddenly stopped resisting.

"That's much better," came Malfoy's horrible voice. "Now if you will allow me...."

Malfoy's left hand moved away from Ginny's back and reached out quickly for the Snitch. As soon as he did so, however, Ginny freed her right arm, searched for and found the tender skin under Malfoy's left rib cage and squeezed hard. Malfoy let out a cry of pain and fell away from the Snitch. He began to tumble off his broomstick, only at the last minute using his right arm to grab hold of it like a life preserver. The Snitch made a sharp turn up into the sky but before it could fly out of her reach, Ginny reached out and grabbed it. She could hear Malfoy speeding back toward her and turned her broomstick sharply down toward the pitch. She landed on the ground and held the Snitch up in her hand defiantly as the cries of the few faithful Gryffindor supporters trickled down to her from the stands. Amid the scattered applause came the pleasant sound of a whistle being blown.

"Gryffindor wins!" Peebles declared, his voice breaking in apparent over-excitement.

Ginny hadn't realized she was still shaken from her close encounter with Malfoy until she felt a rush of relief as the rest of the Gryffindor team landed in turn and formed a close, protective circle around her.

"Are you all right?" asked Ron, looking very pale. "That bloody creep! When I get my hands on - "

Ginny's hand came up to her brother's elbow in a restraining gesture.

"Just forget about it, now," she said, surprised and annoyed at the fear she still heard in her own voice. "He won't dare try that again, believe me. Besides, we won." Ginny felt her face brighten. "We really won, Ron!"

Ron smiled back, a deep, warm, almost giddy smile suffusing his cheeks with color. "I - I never thought we could, really, I suppose. I mean, I reckon it'll take a while to sink in. We actually beat Slytherin!"

"Hem, hem."

Ginny saw Ron's smile fade abruptly away and she was fairly certain hers had, too. Wanting to do anything in the world but turn around and face the owner of the voice behind them, the two Weasleys nonetheless bowed to the inevitable.

Umbridge was walking toward them, flanked by a nervous looking Peebles and a pale, limping Malfoy who fixed Ginny with a mock accusatory stare. Ginny was about to ask him how being grabbed in the rib cage could result in a limp when Umbridge's saccharine voice broke in:

"I'm afraid that's not quite true, Mr. Weasley. You see, I'm afraid that your team's Seeker caught the Snitch only after committing the most heinous of fouls against Mr. Weasley here. Mr. Peebles is not the only one who watches the game with a pair of Omnioculars." Umbridge held up her right hand to show an extremely large pair of Omnioculars plastered with several stickers of smiling cats.

Ginny took an ordinary but very significant step toward the Headmistress. Ron tried to grab onto her elbow in restraint but she angrily shook him off.

"I fouled him?" she demanded. "He was grabbing me against his putrid excuse for a body!"

Peebles cleared his throat very slightly. "I - I - I did think the two fouls rather cancelled each other out," he suggested. "In fact, I was going to - "

Peebles's eyes grew very wide as Umbridge turned her head toward him and presented her sweetest of smiles. It was obvious to Ginny that under the scrutiny of Umbridge's simple gesture any courage Peebles had managed to muster had now vanished altogether. but Ginny herself was far from finished.

"What have you got to say to that?" she demanded at Umbridge, fully aware that she was now shouting. Peebles let out a small squeak and his eyes begged at Ginny to stop.

Umbridge turned to Ginny and smiled coolly.

"I'm sorry the experience was so unpleasant to you, dear. But it's obvious to me that Mr. Malfoy here caught you to stop you from hurting yourself very badly. You were hurtling toward him at quite a reckless speed. Why else would he have chosen not to catch the Snitch when it was clearly in his grasp? And look how you re-paid his kindness."

Ginny shot a quick glance at Malfoy whom she was sure had returned her look with a sly smirk before once again taking on the façade of a wounded puppy.

"All right, then," said Ginny after a moment's pause. "Let's keep playing, shall we? It won't change the outcome!"

"I'm rather afraid it shall, Miss Weasley. You see, were it not for your egregious attempt to injure Mr. Malfoy, he would surely have caught the Snitch. I'm awarding this match to Slytherin."

At these words, Peebles quickly and nervously blew his whistle. The Slytherin team broke into cheers, but this cheering along with all noise in the cavernous pitch quickly ground to a halt as Ginny took two large strides toward Umbridge and placed the toe of her boot gently on top of the headmistress's toe.

"You horrid little toad," she declared, her lips pursed.

"Ginny!" cried Ron.

"What did you call me dear?" Umbridge whispered, a vein beginning to throb just below her chin. "I don't think I heard you correctly."

"I called you a 'horrid little toad' because that's what you are!" Ginny hissed back. "You rigged this game just like you've rigged this whole school! They're just like you - fake!"

Ron let out a dying groan but Ginny ignored him. Umbridge looked distinctly as though she wasn't going to be able to restrain herself much longer. But then she seemed to glance almost imperceptibly over at Malfoy and her face broke into a smile.

"Why, Miss Weasley, I'm so sorry you feel that way," she replied sweetly. "I don't like to say this, dear, but I'm afraid you seem to be slipping into your troublesome fantasies again."

"Then why don't you give me a detention? Surely that's the best medicine of all for my delusions, don't you think?"

There were another series of loud gasps and this time, Ginny could no longer distinguish Ron's from the others. Umbridge's smile faded fast but then just as quickly returned. Her eyes left Ginny's and returned to the Gryffindor team.

"Mr. Longbottom?" she said.

Ginny suddenly went very pale.

"M - m - me?" she heard Neville say but could not bring herself to look back at him.

"Yes, you, dear," replied Umbridge, her smile broadening. "Perhaps you'd like to see me in my office Monday evening, and Tuesday evening - and perhaps Wednesday evening? I doubt more than three nights will be necessary for one with your sensitive constitution."

"B - b - but what have I done?" replied Neville, struggling to keep his voice even.

"Why, I would have thought that would have been obvious," replied Umbridge, her eyes returning to Ginny. "You have the misfortune of playing on a team with an insufferably rude captain. And if she does not manage to hold her tongue anymore, I can't promise you won't have company."

Umbridge stared at Ginny for a moment longer, then turned on her heel and walked slowly away, Peebles nervously bringing up the rear. Ginny turned to Malfoy in time to see that he seemed immensely satisfied, too, before he walked away with the rest of the Slytherin team. He didn't even bother to limp.

***

The Gryffindor Quidditch team and much of the rest of what was left of the house sat silently in their common room that evening. The fading afternoon light on her back told Ginny it would soon be time for dinner but she was sure she couldn't eat a single bite.

She absently recalled the day, now seemingly long ago, when Fred, George, and Harry had been given a lifetime ban from the team by Umbridge. She had sat beside him then, trying to think of something positive to say while at the same time struggling with her own ambivalent feelings for the Boy Who Lived. At the time she had felt sad and empty but the whole experience now seemed warmly nostalgic in comparison. At least they had all been there - together. At least it hadn't been she who had incurred Umbridge's wrath. Ginny honestly couldn't recall ever having felt as bad as she did now. Not even when Riddle had taken her into the Chamber. Not even when Harry had first disappeared. She had never felt such a horrible combination of anger, fear, guilt and, worst of all - loneliness.

No one had said anything to her since she had walked in the room. She had not even been able to bring herself to look Ron or Neville in the eye. But when the sunlight had all but faded from the room and the house elves had noiselessly moved in to light the torches around them, she sensed Neville's head turn to hers and heard him say:

"It doesn't matter, Ginny. You were right about her, anyway. She is a horrible toad."

Ginny looked up, noticing for the first time that he had been sitting next to her all along. She tried to think of something she could possibly bear to say in response but then, almost as if the weight on her chest had crushed her so hard she could no longer feel it, she got to her feet, turned to him and said with a determination she hadn't known she possessed:

"You're right, Neville. It doesn't matter because you're not going to any detention. Not if it's the last thing I do."

At this, the room seemed to wake from a long and torpid slumber. Anger burned in Ginny once again as she watched the expression on her brother's face change from languid and defeated to incredulous.

"And how are you going to do that?" he demanded. "Honestly, Ginny, you've gotten everyone in enough trouble as it is. You'd better just leave it alone before someone else gets the chop. Can't you see? We can't win this!"

"Can't you see, Ron?" Ginny cried stridently. "We can't afford to lose! They took away our housemates, took away our team, took away our school! Well, they're not taking anything more!"

Ron got to his feet.

"How, Ginny? Just tell me how? By bringing your imaginary friends back? Do you know something: I want them back, too. You think I'd do anything but believe you, Ginny?" he asked, as though in response to the angry and hurt look on his sister's face. "I'd give everything for them to be real! Anything! But they're not. Now if you have a real plan to get Neville out of his detention, or to get Umbridge out of this school once and forever, no one would be happier than me to hear it, but as you don't, I suggest you - "

There was a loud knock on the outside of the portrait hole.

"Who in the name of Merlin's cracked teapots is that?" Ron demanded irritably to no one in particular. Without waiting for a response, he marched to the portrait hole which swung open to reveal Luna Lovegood.

"Oh, hello, Ronald!" she said brightly.

"What do you want?" Ron demanded brusquely. "Come to gloat, have you? I suppose with Slytherin winning, you lot have a good chance at the cup now!"

"Oh, no," replied Luna, her wide eyes appearing to take no offense. "I only came along to say that I've found Neville's Remembrall!"

***

Harry winced as Sirius traced his wand along his lower back.

"Steady on," came the response. "It'll feel much better in a moment."

True to his godfather's word, Harry felt a pleasant cooling sensation quickly ease his pain away. Sirius broke off and turned around to face him, smiling.

"Now how's that?"

Harry twisted carefully back and forth, expecting a sharp twinge of pain at any moment, but none came.

"It's - it's amazing," he replied, looking back at Sirius in awe. "I still don't see how you do it."

"It's all magic, Harry."

"Right. But I - but I still don't see how you're getting away with this. I mean, I was supposed to report to the infirmary. Won't Sister - "

"Sister Le Barre will only recall that she did an unusually fine job treating your injury. And the cameras won't find a different story to tell either."

Harry shook his head. "It's - it's still just so hard to grasp sometimes."

Sirius folded his arms. "It's all a question of memory, really, but I'll admit it keeps me busy. I only wish I could give you all your memories back, Harry. Then you'd have much fewer doubts, believe me. And I wouldn't have to re-teach you seven years of magical training."

"So you keep saying." Harry frowned and lowered his head. He felt his doubt of this man cloud his mind again like a nagging sore and he didn't want Sirius to see it. He could do so many remarkable things. Why couldn't Harry just bring himself to believe everything he said? Yet Harry couldn't shake the feeling that there will still some things that didn't add up.

"What is it, Harry?" said Sirius quietly.

Harry looked up slowly, trying to clear his knitted brows. "I - I - I'm just not sure I understand all this memory business. If you can make the nuns think we're with them when we're really with you, why can't you let us remember what we'd forgotten?"

Sirius smiled again and gave Harry a small sigh. "An excellent question, Harry, and you'd be an idiot not to wonder. I'll do the best I can: you have something known as a computer, I believe?"

Harry nodded.

"Well, think of your mind like a computer. The computer stores information. Someone could take that information out of your mind - your memories - just like taking information out of a computer."

"Like on a floppy disk?"

"Yes." Sirius hesitated. "Yes, I suppose so. I can also take information away from the nuns and replace it with false memories. That's called a memory charm. But I can't bring back your memories because - "

" - Because you weren't the one who took them in the first place?"

"Exactly, Harry. And the one who took them has hidden them just like one might hide a floppy disk."

"But you said - I mean - " Harry's eyes widened. "Could my memories have been permanently removed?"

"No, Harry. There's where they're different from a computer file. They have to be stored somewhere and somewhere nearby. Even the things we naturally forget fall out of our minds around us, though we can't see them. In our world, there's such a thing as a Remembrall. It catches forgotten memories. It's not quite so sophisticated that it can bring them back but at least it can tell us when we've forgotten something."

"So," said Harry thoughtfully, still struggling to understand. "So our memories are stored in one of these Remembrall thingys?"

"Nearly right, Harry. They're not really Remembralls though I imagine they look quite like them. I've never actually seen one. They're banned on our world but unfortunately someone has revived the technology. Now it's up to me to find the one with all of your memories in it. It can't be far from here. It has to be kept nearby. But I'm afraid it's most probably disguised as something else."

"So what are you going to do with this - this memory thing when you find it?"

Sirius flashed Harry the truculent grin to which he had now grown accustomed.

"Why smash it, of course."

***

Ron sighed impatiently and stood aside for Luna to enter the common room. Ginny could scarcely bear to watch as she went up to Neville and kissed him on the cheek, apparently missing altogether his ashen expression. But then something happened which took everyone's mind far away from Quidditch and Neville's looming detention: Luna reached behind her back and produced Neville's Remembrall.

"There it is! You left it in the Carnivorous Cauldrons section in my trunk. Poor dear," she said, gently stroking Neville's forehead with her thumb. "He got it into his head that his Potions assignment was going to eat him."

But no one was very interested in Neville's secret phobias. All eyes were on the Remembrall which had now enlarged to size of a Quaffle. It shone a bright dazzling red and lit up the entire room in an ethereal light.

"I'd rather be without it," declared Neville nervously. "It keeps growing. My old Remembrall never did that. I suppose I must have forgotten an awful lot of things this year."

No one responded to Neville right away. Then Ginny, her defeated expression of only moments before now vanished, got up from her chair and leaned over the table to look closely at the glowing glass ball. She said nothing for more than a minute before straightening up.

"Neville, where did you say you got this Remembrall?"

"Well," said Neville, looking even more nervous as he became aware that everyone was staring at the Remembrall. "My gran gave it to me just like she did the last one. A - and it was funny because the shop keeper seemed to want to get rid of it cheap. I think I can see why now, though."

"He's kept it covered up all year," Luna added. "It's a bit of an embarrassment, really. I suppose we ought to get rid of it, but we'd have to think of a safe - "

Ginny could contain herself no longer.

"Luna, don't you see?" she exclaimed. "It's the perfect disguise! Professor Lupin was wrong. The Death Eaters weren't moving it about. They just wanted us to think they were! They planted it in the shop in Diagon Alley for Neville's grandmother to find. They knew she would buy it for him. And they knew we wouldn't think to check it when we thought we already knew what it was!"

Ginny heard Ron sighing heavily behind her but she refused to let it put her off. Luna looked back at her with an expression that began to mirror Ginny's own as comprehension slowly dawned.

"You mean to say that...."

"This is what we've been looking for and it was right under our noses all along!"

Luna didn't say anything for a moment, then she nodded and reached over to the table and took the Remembrall back into her hands.

"I'm sorry, Neville," she said. "I'll get you another one, I promise."

She kissed her baffled-looking boyfriend on the cheek and walked briskly over toward the window.

"Wait - what - what - what are you talking about?" asked Neville. "What are you going to - "

"Luna!" Ginny's urgent voice broke in. "I'm not sure that's a very good - "

But it was too late. They could only watch as Luna pushed open the window, placed the Remembrall on its ledge, and then calmly rolled the heavy glass ball out to roll far down to the ground below.

Ginny drew in a deep breath. Part of her wanted to rush over the window to find out what had happened but another terrified part of her forced her feet to remain put. Looking around her, she saw that the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team now had their mouths open in round "O"'s but they, too, did not move. There was a sickening second of silence before several loud screams were heard coming up from below.

"Sorry!" called Luna, her head hanging out the window. "Don't worry! Just go about your business!"

There was another flurry of indistinct shouting.

"Yes, I know it was dangerous to throw a very heavy glass ball out of the window," Luna shouted loudly back, "but I'm afraid I didn't have much choice. You see we're conducting an important experiment up here. We're trying to unmask some alien xenophobes who've dug their way into the kitchen."

Ginny drew in another breath and was far from sure when she planned to let it out. However were they going to get out of this one?

"We're - " Luna broke off. "Yes, I know you're probably very cross.....Yes, yes, I realize it was really a very heavy glass ball and that it might have done you serious damage. But it didn't, did it?... Well, an inch from your head still isn't on your head, now is it?.... That's a very rude word you've just used, you know, and I - "

Luna suddenly stopped. Ginny looked up from where she'd been staring listlessly down at the floor to find the Ravenclaw's head still hanging slightly out of the window but her body otherwise frozen.

"Luna?" she said. "Luna, what - "

Ginny looked around again and saw that none of the Gryffindors were moving at all. The voices from below the tower had stopped, too. But she had no sooner registered this when a series of unearthly screams began from the grounds below and rose up through the school until the floors underneath them shook with the noise. Then, as Ginny continued to stare at Luna's prone form, a red light rose to the level of the windows like the devil bursting out from the depths of hell. It spread straight across and intensified until finally it colored the whole sky crimson. It hung for a moment like a majestic curtain over the setting sun, and then surged like a wave through the common room.

Ginny's hands flew quickly to her eyes as the light grew too dazzling to bear. Immediately the whole common room broke into the same bloodcurdling screams she had heard coming from below but no sound made its way out of Ginny's throat. The flash was only brief. A moment later, Ginny's eyelids went dark and the screaming stopped. Ginny took her arms away from her eyes and cautiously opened them.

The whole room was silent. Luna had slumped to the floor just in front of the window. Everyone else stared straight ahead as though they were in a trance.

"Ron! Luna! Neville! Someone say something!"

Luna's head suddenly snapped up toward her. Ginny ran quickly over to her fallen friend and crouched down beside her.

"Luna, are you are all right?"

Luna looked up at her strangely and for one sickening moment, Ginny was sure she hadn't remembered who she was, but then she gave Ginny a familiar-looking frown and said:

"That's funny. I don't remember any aliens, just an odd group of people who used to go to school here."

Ginny was about to respond when she heard a loud sob issuing from somewhere behind her. She got back to her feet and looked at the table. Her housemates still stared ahead blankly but one thing had changed: a single tear now rolled down her brother's right cheek.

"Ron?" she asked, and then more gently: "Ron, are you all right?"

Ron said nothing for a moment, then he sniffed and with great effort opened his mouth:

"Oh, gods," he croaked. "Hermione."