A Capacity for Love

Chapter 20: Relative Safety

Invisibility Pox Ravages Wizarding Population

Authorities Deny Danger to Public

Shropshire - It appears that the increasingly virulent Invisibility Pox has claimed another victim. Artemisia Belby, 42, simply faded from sight Thursday last, according to family and neighbors.

'I saw her bringing in the shopping that morning. A short while later, I heard a scream, but when I pulled back the curtain to check, I didn't see anything,' reports Nasalia Snooper, 93, who lives across the street from the Belbys. It is a well-known fact that the shock of suddenly finding oneself invisible is usually accompanied by loud vocalizations of surprise.

The victim's husband, Damocles Belby, 51, commented, 'It all happened so suddenly... I'm sorry, I can't say any more. I just pray she's still alive. Tell them I'm working on the potion, but please, just don't hurt her!' Good advice, which the Quibbler's editors urge all its readers to take to heart. Invisibility Pox sufferers may be on that chair you're about to sit on, in that Floo you're about to step into, or even within range of that spell you're about to cast. Call out a warning before doing any of these things - your invisible friends will thank you.

Unfortunately, not everyone takes such care, and the mortality rate of this dread disease is disturbingly high. Many victims meet with tragic and violent ends, most likely due to accidents occuring whilst they are invisible. In many cases, the main symptom extends past the victims' demise, their bodies forever relegated to a state of invisibility.

It is heartening to hear that Belby, a respected potions expert, is working on a treatment, although he was unwilling to make a prognosis about when it would be ready to test.

This is just the latest in a rash of cases that have struck the wizarding community over the last year. Ministry of Magic officials deny that it has anything to do with last May's incident at Ministry headquarters in London, in which Quibbler informants insist that members of the public were exposed to several extremely toxic magico-biological agents, including the highly infectious Invisibility Pox virus.

'That's absolutely ludicrous,' responded Ministry spokesman Percy Weasley, 21. 'There's no such thing as Invisibility Pox.' Yet Weasley was unwilling to suggest another explanation for this or any other of the spate of recent disappearances, and quickly ended the interview.

Quibbler readers will be used to such blatant and obvious attempts at covering up official blunders that lead to the endangerment of the health and safety of the public at large. Invisibility Pox is highly contagious, as is documented by the fact that it often strikes several members of the same family in quick succession, or even simultaneously.

The large number of otherwise unexplained, sudden disappearances of respected members of the wizarding community demands action by our government officials. How much longer will we allow this to go on? Ask your Healer about the possibility of vaccination now, before this dread disease strikes in your own family!

Hermione crumpled the Quibbler and left it on the breakfast table. She walked out of the Great Hall, feeling more unsafe than she had in many weeks. The story about Invisibility Pox was nonsense, of course, but if it kept people in their houses or made them question the Ministry's priorities, it might have a positive effect after all.

The truth was, it hit Hermione, there were still Death Eaters out there, snatching those who disagreed with them or whom they found to be otherwise undesirable. She wondered which category Mrs Belby fell into. Was she Muggle-born? An Order member? Or had she just been in the wrong place at the wrong time? Hermione realized that she'd been lulled into a false sense of security, things having been relatively quiet over the past two months.

But that was just what she couldn't afford to do. There were at least two bona fide Death Eaters walking the halls of Hogwarts, and maybe - she thought with a shiver - more. If Voldemort was able to recruit Draco Malfoy, why not a couple of seventh years as well? Just because they had been lying low recently didn't make them any less of a threat. Harry's obsessive observation of the Map proved that Snape and Malfoy were leaving the castle from time to time, and it wasn't for fancy dinner parties, that much was clear.

Hermione found herself stealing glances at every student she passed. Why, there could even be Death Eaters in Gryffindor House. Peter Pettigrew had been one, and he'd been in Gryffindor. It was always the quiet ones, the ones you'd never expect. Like Neville. No, that was utterly ridiculous. But then again, Harry's parents must have thought it utterly ridiculous to even consider Pettigrew being disloyal. And what about McLaggen? He was unpleasant enough. In fact, come to think of it, why stop at just one or two? If she were Voldemort, she'd try to get as many recruits on her side as possible.

Hermione felt a rising panic. She had to force herself to think logically. She was being silly, she told herself firmly. Of course Neville was no Death Eater, nor was McLaggen. Draco and Snape, and any other sleeper agents, would never stage an attack in broad daylight, not with Dumbledore at the helm of the school.

She might not agree with his methods, but she still trusted in his authority and skill. He had fought Voldemort himself at the Department of Mysteries, according to Harry, and beaten him handily. Draco was no match for Albus Dumbledore, and nor was Snape. Dumbledore knew everything that went on in the castle. That's probably why he allowed Snape to stay: so that he could keep close tabs on him. It was true that somehow, Death Eaters had been able to kidnap herself and three other students, but they hadn't actually been hurt until they'd been off the grounds. As long as she stayed on the grounds, preferably inside the castle walls themselves, she should be all right. This line of thinking calmed her somewhat, but the disturbing feeling of insecurity still lingered.

+++000+++00+++

She had Potions that morning. Slughorn was less talkative than usual, more jittery. Was it her imagination, or was he trying to avoid Harry? There hadn't been a meeting of the Slug Club in ages, either. Not since the Christmas Party, in fact. Not that she was mourning it. It was bad enough that she had to see McLaggen in the Gryffindor common room and at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. She didn't particularly fancy being forced into a social situation with him again.

She managed to partner with Anthony Goldstein, his usual partner Terry Boot having taken ill that morning. She liked working with Anthony. He did have bad breath, but luckily he didn't talk very much, and he was very exacting. As they worked, she thought about his House, Ravenclaw. The Sorting Hat had said she would do well in Ravenclaw. Maybe if she'd ended up there, all these things would never have happened to her. She certainly wouldn't have been thrown together with Harry and Ron as often. But then, she considered, Lisa had been - no, she corrected herself, was still - in Ravenclaw, and she'd still been taken last October.

The constellation of Ravenclaw, Slug Club, and the recent Quibbler article coalesced into another connection in her mind: Belby. A student named Belby had been among the lucky few summoned by Slughorn to his train compartment that first day of term. Interestingly, he hadn't been included in later invitations, but Hermione still recalled him: an awkward, pimply underclassman, clearly unhappy with the attention. She couldn't say that she'd blamed him, and hadn't given it another thought when she didn't see him again.

"Anthony...?" she began, carefully adding three drops of lavender essence to their cauldron.

Anthony, to his credit, did not break rhythm but continued to stir at a pace of exactly one revolution per second.

"Do you know a boy named Belby?" Hermione continued. "I don't know his first name. I think he's in Ravenclaw. An underclassman, second or third year?"

Anthony frowned. "Yeah, think so. Marcus, right? Brown hair, skinny?"

Hermione nodded. "That sounds like him. Is he still around?"

"How long do I have to keep stirring?"

Hermione checked her textbook. "It says here 'continue stirring until the mixture turns clear'. It doesn't look clear to me yet. You?"

Anthony peered into the dark cauldron. "Not yet." He settled back into his routine. "What did you mean about Belby?"

"Whether he's still around. He hasn't withdrawn from school, has he?"

"Why would he withdraw from school?"

"Remember Hannah Abbott? When her mother was killed earlier this year, she withdrew."

Anthony looked at Hermione in alarm, his stirring arm faltering momentarily. "Was someone in Belby's family killed?"

"I don't know," Hermione admitted. "I saw a notice about a woman named Belby having gone missing, but it could be another family."

Anthony looked worried, answering, "No, far as I know Marcus is still here. Merlin, I hope it isn't his mum. He's a nice kid. Do they think it was Death Eaters?"

"It didn't say," Hermione responded evasively, not wanting to get into a discussion of Invisibility Pox, "but it must be."

"Oh, shite, look," Anthony exclaimed as he happened to look down into the cauldron, "the potion's clear already!"

Hermione quickly readied a vial for a sample, which looked perfectly acceptable to her, but once again was beaten out by Harry's perfect result.

"The Prince said to stir exactly 99 times," he informed her with an apologetic shrug afterwards.

+++000+++000+++

"Severus, a word, please."

Snape waited until the other House Heads had filed out. He dreaded these little 'words' which Dumbledore always seemed to insist on. Invariably, they had something to do with Potter, Malfoy, Voldemort, or some combination of the three. The headmaster's first words did nothing to break the pattern.

"I would like you to keep a close eye on Draco Malfoy in the next few days," Dumbledore began, once he was assured of privacy.

"That will be a refreshing change of pace," Snape remarked dryly.

Dumbledore chuckled. "I have the feeling that he may try to take advantage of the Apparition lessons."

"You mean because the anti-Apparition enchantment will be lifted in the Great Hall? Of course, he will not know that until the morning of the lesson."

"Not officially, of course, but the other Heads are informed of the fact as well. I saw no reason to plead for secrecy, and so word is bound to get out. Aside from that, Mr Malfoy may well deduce it for himself. The boy is not stupid."

"Your word in Merlin's ear."

"Tom could of course see this as a prime opportunity to get into Hogwarts."

"Don't call him that," Snape hissed through gritted teeth.

"It is his name," Dumbledore reminded him simply. "For me, he will always be Tom Riddle, a promising but deeply troubled young man."

Snape made a face. "It makes him sound harmless, like a jolly prankster."

"Oh, I would never underestimate him," Dumbledore said in all seriousness. "He is far from harmless. Which is why we cannot afford to let another Halloween happen. He cannot be given access to our students again. He would dearly love to send in a band, grab two or three, or more, of the nearest children, and spirit them away. This time, given another chance, I fear that they would not come back alive.

"Two of the original group of hand-picked targets will be there next week," Dumbledore continued. "Miss MacDermott and Miss Granger. He might be especially pleased to get his hands on them again and 'finish the job', as it were. He was none too happy that word never got out of his Halloween attack. He would figure there would be no way for us to cover up two deaths, or more."

"You will know more of how his mind works than I," Snape began diplomatically, "but in all honesty, Headmaster, I feel that he has put what happened on Halloween out of his mind. It is true that things did not go the way he desired, but he has moved on to other plans."

"I give you right, up to a point," Dumbledore conceded. "He may not be planning to repeat his Halloween atrocities, but given the chance, I feel certain he would capitalize on the opportunity to Apparate in and out of Hogwarts, following a scenario very much like the one I have sketched. His aim with that earlier attack was not simply to satisfy the lust for blood which some of his more barbaric followers clamour for; he was aiming to put Hogwarts out of business, in order to get Harry out into the open. If he can strike fear into the hearts of the wizarding population at large, so much the better."

"But as you've said, Apparition will only be possible within the Great Hall. The enchantments will remain intact over the surrounding walls and grounds."

"In theory, yes, but you know as well as I how creative minds may take advantage of small changes in defenses. I do not believe that it will be possible to enter, or leave, Hogwarts by Apparition during the lessons, but there is always the chance that I have erred. And even if it is not possible, it would be most inconvenient should Tom or some of his friends show up, expecting otherwise. I should be forced to stop them, you see, and I'm not entirely certain how this old body would hold up against another direct assault." He held up his weakened arm regretfully.

"If you are so worried about a breach, why then, if I may be so bold, are you allowing the Apparition lessons to be held at all?"

Dumbledore frowned. "It is difficult enough to be young in times like these. The students deserve as much of a semblance of normalcy as we can deliver. But more to the point: it may save their lives if they are able to Apparate away from the scene of an attack. Should Hogwarts' defences truly be breached, I would hope that this would enable as many students as possible to escape with their lives."

"If their reactions in Defense class are anything to go by, they are more likely to run around like chickens with their heads cut off," Snape grumbled.

Dumbledore chuckled. "That's why you're in there this year, Severus. You'll whip them into shape, I've no doubt."

Snape grunted, but it was clear that he was pleased by the praise.

"If you doubt your ability to hold off an attack, why not request a team of Aurors to assist with guarding the perimeter?"

"Absolutely not. The Auror Department is as leaky as my great-aunt Ethel's cauldron. I will personally see to the security," Dumbledore responded firmly.

"I will see what I can do about keeping Malfoy incommunicado. I will also try to impress upon him the futility of attempting to Apparate beyond the walls."

"Thank you, Severus. It won't be much longer, now."

+++000+++000+++

That Saturday, Hermione awoke to a grumble of thunder. She was disoriented at first and not sure what the sound was that had broken into her dreams. A nebulous feeling of menace floated in the air, and she groped under her pillow for her wand, her disquiet increasing when she didn't feel its comforting hardness immediately. She threw her pillow aside and scrabbled in the bedclothes until she had the wand in her hand.

The next thunderclap sounded like it had detonated directly overhead, and caused her roommates to stir. Lavender buried her head under her pillow, groaning.

"Hermione? What are you doing?" Parvati asked, somewhat alarmed, having taken notice of Hermione's battle stance in her bed. Lavender peeped out, too, looking startled.

Hermione's heart was still beating wildly, but she lowered her wand now as reality gained the upper hand over her imagination. "I... thought I heard a noise," she faltered.

"That was just thunder," Lavender whined. "Can we go back to sleep now?"

"No, sleepy-head," Parvati teased, throwing her pillow at Lavender. "Today's the first Apparition lesson. Oh! Lav!" Parvati suddenly grew serious. "Remember what my horoscope said for today? 'Keep both feet on the ground'. Do you think that means I shouldn't try Apparating?"

"Wow! Good point," Lavender said earnestly. "Maybe not."

Hermione rolled her eyes as the two girls discussed whether they should go ask Professor Firenze for advice. The centaur had the odd years' classes that year, but that didn't stop Lavender and Parvati from finding every excuse to seek him out.

Instead of contributing her own surely unwanted opinion, Hermione fought her way out of her tangled sheets, not letting go of her wand. She still had that uneasy feeling.

She hadn't been able to shake it by the time she made her way down to the Great Hall with Harry. They'd been told that they wouldn't need their wands, so Hermione reluctantly left hers locked in her trunk. Now, surrounded by her classmates, many of them potential Death Eaters (and one confirmed), she wasn't sure if that was such a wise decision.

All of the sixth-years were in high spirits, some of them laughing and twirling in an approximation of how they'd seen their parents or other adults Apparating. Hermione pressed herself against the wall to let the most boisterous of them go by. She still didn't deal well with situations in which she might be touched inadvertently. Harry was distracted, scanning the passing group as if he were looking for someone... and Hermione would have bet good money that someone was Draco Malfoy.

When they arrived in the Great Hall, Hermione managed to pull Harry over to a spot on the edge of the group. At least that way, she felt like she could escape easily if she needed to. She saw Ron and Lavender come in, and was relieved when they took up positions well away from her. She also was surprised to see Oonagh MacDermott: she was in her seventh year and should have taken her Apparition lessons the previous year.

She didn't have much time to speculate on that, however, as her attention was soon drawn to the front of the room, where Professor McGonagall was calling the students to attention and introducing their instructor, a wispy-looking wizard named Twycross. Hermione couldn't really concentrate on what he was saying, however, as standing right behind him and next to McGonagall was the Slytherin Head of House: Severus Snape. He had a deep scowl on his face and was watching the crowd like a hawk. The scrutiny made Hermione want to turn tail and escape by the quickest possible means. There was a brief commotion involving Draco, which only increased Snape's apparent displeasure and Hermione's jitters.

She was further disquieted by the news that the anti-Apparition enchantment had been lifted; the caveat that Apparition would only be possible within the confines of Great Hall was small comfort to her. What assurances did they have that the enchantment had only been lifted within the Great Hall? How did they know that some Death Eaters wouldn't find a chink in the protections still surrounding the outer walls? She began to greatly regret having left her wand upstairs and wondered if it might be possible for her to sneak out in order to retrieve it.

And where was Professor Dumbledore? He usually reveled in group activities like this, but today, as on so many days during this school year already, he distinguished himself only through his absence. She looked over at Malfoy; he appeared to still be arguing with Crabbe. Snape had the two of them fixed with his hawk-eyed glare as well, which only made Hermione more suspicious. He knew something. He knew that Malfoy was up to something.

Hermione turned to Harry to ask him what he thought Malfoy had planned, but Harry was already pushing his way through the crowd.

"Harry, where are you going?" she called after him anxiously, but he was too far away. She lost sight of him in a moment, swallowed up behind a row of Ravenclaws. She suddenly felt very exposed and very alone.

She rubbed her hands over her arms in a self-comforting gesture and took stock of the students nearest her: Terry Boot was on her left, apparently recovered from whatever had stricken him and earnestly following Professor Flitwick's instructions on how to line up. Behind her was Neville. She gave him a nervous little smile, which he returned, before directing her attention back to the podium.

Snape had descended to the main floor and was now standing off to the side, apparently to better oversee his charges and step in should a mishap occur.

Mr Twycross began with his lesson, but Hermione couldn't concentrate at all. The theory of the three Ds was old hat to her, of course, having read up on it in preparation for her licensing, but she'd never actually tried to Apparate before. Although she was usually quite good at mastering magic tricks on the first, or at least the second, try, she was wretchedly unsuccessful at every attempt now.

When Susan Bones screamed, Hermione's heart just about stopped beating; she was sure that the Death Eater attack had begun. Her first instinct was to get away. In the general confusion of students and instructors surging toward the focus of the excitement, Hermione slipped out the nearest door unnoticed.

She ran through the empty halls, no destination in mind, up stairs and down, until she felt sure that no one was running after her. She ducked into a doorway to catch her breath, and realized with a shudder of guilt that she'd left her friends down in the Great Hall to fend for themselves. They could be dead now, or being tortured, or - she realized with a sick feeling that this was the most likely alternative - kidnapped, just as she and the others had been.

Although Professor McGonagall had said it would only be possible to Apparate within the Great Hall itself and warned them strictly against attempting to go beyond the walls, that didn't necessarily mean it was true. Was it even possible to lift the enchantment within an enclosed space? That was probably what Snape and Malfoy and any other secret Death Eaters had been planning: to take advantage of the freedom of Apparition in the Great Hall and take out as many Muggle-borns as possible, maybe even purebloods they considered to be blood traitors. People like Ron! And they were all defenseless, having been told to leave their wands in their rooms. Oh, what to do?

She was stricken by indecision. She didn't actually know for sure that there had been an attack. Maybe there had been another reason for the scream... although she couldn't think of anything off the top of her head. If there had been an attack, she should go get help. Professor Dumbledore. She poked her head back out into the hall to see where exactly she was, anyway. She was close to Gryffindor Tower, her feet having taken her unconsciously in that direction. The Headmaster's office was at least several minutes away, and that was only if all of the staircases played along with her and she didn't run into anyone who might try to stop her on the way.

On the other hand, it would be much faster for her to dash up to her room, get her wand, and go back down directly to the Great Hall. And do what...? Get hit by another of Dolohov's curses? Be put under the Imperius again by Snape? She'd proven last year at the Ministry that she was no good when it came to wand combat, and the unfortunate fact that Snape was the Defense teacher this year certainly hadn't helped her improve any. The Headmaster's office it was, then, although she was nearly in tears over the lost minutes that would mean.

That was why she literally sobbed with relief when she saw Luna wandering along the corridor just a few seconds later, humming an unrecognizable tune to herself.

"Oh! Luna!" Hermione cried, grabbing the other girl's shoulders. "You don't know how glad I am to see you!"

"Hello, Hermione," Luna responded with a bemused smile. "I'm happy to see you, too. I've hardly seen you at all this year. It's a shame the D.A. is no longer meeting, don't you think? Here, would you like a handkerchief? I think I have one in my sock..." She started to bend over, but Hermione shook her head vigorously.

"No! There's no time!" she gasped. "Listen, I think there's been some sort of attack in the Great Hall. We were having Apparition lessons, and someone screamed, and the enchantments had been lifted," she rambled, not aware that she wasn't making much sense. "You've got to go tell Professor Dumbledore!"

"All right, if you say so," Luna agreed, seemingly unperturbed by the lack of a sensible explanation. "Are you going, too? We could go together." Luna watched Hermione with her big, unblinking eyes, and although she appeared outwardly calm, there was a hopeful eagerness in her demeanor.

"No, I'm going to get my wand and go back down there." She hadn't thought she would, but as soon as she said it, it seemed like the right thing to do. She started for Gryffindor Tower.

"Shall I meet you in the Great Hall, after I've informed Professor Dumbledore?" Luna called after her. "Do you think it will be like it was at the Department of Mysteries? I did regret that I wasn't able to use more of the spells that we learned in the D.A."

"If you want--I don't know! Just do whatever Professor Dumbledore thinks best!" Hermione shouted over her shoulder as she broke into a run.

It seemed to take forever for the Fat Lady to move aside, and another eternity for her to get her wand out of her chest, fumbling badly with the lock in her haste. On her way back out, she considered briefly whether to ask the two seventh-year boys who were sitting in the common room playing Gobstones to come with her as reinforcements, but discarded the idea as taking too long to explain.

As she got closer to the Great Hall, she slowed down, looking and listening for signs of danger or mayhem. There were none. On the contrary, a small group of underclassmen were coming in from outside as she passed through the Entrance Hall, laughing and sending out a carefree air. They didn't so much as spare her a glance as she dashed past.

The big main doors to the Great Hall were still closed, but Hermione bypassed them and ran around to the same side entrance she'd snuck out of earlier. Panting hard, both from running and from the excitement, she pulled the door open just a sliver. There was a low murmur of voices, and she could see several robed figures standing around the room. Figures in Hogwarts robes, not Death Eaters. She opened the door a bit further. There was Terry, twirling around artfully, and Neville, his face screwed up in concentration while he mouthed some instructions to himself. One Hufflepuff girl was helping another up off the floor, both of them laughing. All the way in the back, Hermione could make out Malfoy's tell-tale white-blond hair. No sign of an attack of any kind. Hermione got a creeping feeling that she might have made a terrible mistake.

She eased her way into the room, keeping her back to the wall. Professor McGonagall was standing near Malfoy, as was Professor Snape, although they both seemed to be doing nothing more than observing the ranks of students. Mr Twycross was walking around the main floor, stopping every now and then to give a pointer to someone.

She felt as if she had entered another dimension. She had been so certain! How could she have erred so completely? Hermione took up her place in front of Neville again, confused but keeping her wand at the ready.

"Oh, there you are!" she heard Neville exclaim after a moment. She turned around. "How far did you get?" he asked her eagerly.

Hermione frowned. "What do you mean? What's going on?"

"I noticed that you'd disappeared," he explained. "You must have Apparated clear to the other side of the room. I didn't see you anywhere."

"I went up to my room," she said. "To get my wand." She held it up, then tucked it into her sleeve, now a bit embarrassed both about having left and about being the only one with a wand. "What was that before? With someone screaming?"

"Didn't you see? Susan Splinched herself. It took about ten minutes to get everyone calmed down again. You mean you Apparated up to your room? I thought we couldn't go out of the Great Hall."

"We can't. At least..." She recalled her previous thoughts about the extent of the anti-Apparition enchantments. "I don't know, I just walked out."

"Mr Longbottom, Miss Granger?" Professor McGonagall's voice interrupted them. "A little less talking, a little more determination, if you please. Miss Granger, I didn't see you here a moment ago. Did you successfully Apparate?" The Gryffindor House Head seemed hopeful that her star pupil would be the first one to succeed.

"No, ma'am, I just..." She hesitated to admit that she'd left the room, feeling that would be frowned on. "... was seeing if I could find a better spot to practice over there," she finished, jutting her chin vaguely toward the other side of the room. "I didn't feel comfortable here. But all the other spaces were taken. I'll just stay here now."

Professor McGonagall didn't seem fazed by Hermione's somewhat thin answer, but instead encouraged her, "All right, then, let's see how you're doing." She took a step back, as if to give Hermione room.

Hermione felt desperately unhappy. There was no way she'd be able to Apparate. Aside from the fact that she hadn't even really listened to Mr Twycross' instructions, she was still all shaken up from her little adventure and couldn't concentrate at all. However, so as not to disappoint her Head of House, she closed her eyes, tried to focus on the space in the hoop lying on the ground in front of her, and turned on one heel. She wasn't at all surprised when nothing happened, but she tried not to feel too badly. It was clear that Professor McGonagall was disappointed as well, although she made a mildly encouraging comment before moving on to Neville.

God, what was going on with her? Was she going mental? She actually thought she'd been doing pretty well. She was able to sleep in the bed she'd been kidnapped from, sit calmly in a classroom with the man who'd raped her, and even help Harry with his project on the side. People had stopped asking her if she was sick, and the wild comments about her and some mysterious older man had died off of their own accord. She thought she was playing the part of the normal, seventeen-year-old Hogwarts student fairly well. But if she started imagining things and acting crazy, people would start asking questions again. She didn't want that. She just wanted everyone to forget about it. That is, she corrected herself, she wanted to be able to forget about it herself. No one else knew about it, of course; that's the way it had to stay.

The rest of the lesson passed without any more incidents. On the way out, Harry caught up with Hermione and asked her how she'd done. When she admitted she hadn't had any luck, Harry ribbed with a good-natured grin: "Finally, something Hermione can't do!"

This, coupled with her honest frustration at not having mastered it yet, made her flat-out angry. She was trying to come up with a good retort when Ron joined them.

"Hey, Harry, how'd you do?" he asked, pointedly - it seemed to Hermione -- ignoring her. "I think I felt something the last time I tried - a kind of tingling in my feet."

Hermione's temper burst at the seeming slight. "I expect your trainers are too small, Won-Won," she spat out before stalking away. It would be just her luck if Ron managed to Apparate before she did.

She didn't feel like going back up to Gryffindor Tower, and not just because it looked like Harry and Ron were headed in that direction. She was still shaken from her misassumption about the attack, and she wanted some space to think. She didn't get far, though, when she came upon Oonagh MacDermott, cornered by a group of Slytherin seventh-years. Hermione very nearly gave in to her desire to avoid any more confrontations when the sudden appearance of several wands brandished in an aggressive manner awakened her sense of duty as a prefect.

"No magic in the halls!" she called out, approaching the group with her own wand drawn.

"Looks like Mudbloods of a feather stick together," Vaisey sneered, casually twirling his wand between his long fingers. "This is seventh-year business, worm." The other Slytherins watched her disdainfully, but Hermione noticed that they discreetly returned their wands to their pockets.

"Even if you don't respect me, you will respect the badge." Hermione tapped the Prefect symbol pinned to her robes.

"What do you think this is?" Vaisey snarled and tapped his own Prefect's badge. "I was just explaining the rules to MacDirtbutt here."

Oonagh lunged at him, her face contorted with rage. "You take that back, you filthy snake!"

Vaisey made a grab for Oonagh's wand, but she was too quick for him, rearing back and casting a rather nasty hex in his direction.

Vaisey ducked the spell, and it looked very much as if he and his friends were about to return fire when Hermione placed herself physically between the two parties, holding out her hands to keep them apart. "Stop it!" she shrieked. "Oonagh, I hate to do this, but five points from Gryffindor for using magic in the halls."

One of the Slytherin girls laughed triumphantly.

"Keep out of it, Granger!" Oonagh said angrily. "I didn't ask you to get involved."

Hermione whirled around and snarled at her: "I wouldn't have if you'd been able to take care of it without resorting to violence."

"You tell her," Vaisey chipped in. "Drippendors are always so hot-headed." His friends snickered their agreement.

Oonagh made to go for him again, but Hermione held her back, with difficulty. "Oonagh, no, it's not worth it," she hissed. Being so close to her now, Hermione could see the end of a pink scar beginning just below Oonagh's throat and disappearing down into the neck of her shirt. She quickly looked away.

"Oh, that's where she's wrong, Dirtbutt," Vaisey taunted. "We're worth every bit of it, and more. Don't worry. We'll finish this later. Make sure to come alone next time." And with a word to his companions, the Slytherins moved off, their forced, loud laughter echoing behind them.

"What was that about?" Hermione asked, only letting go of Oonagh when the others were no longer in sight. The seventh-year girl was breathing hard and sweating, her clothes rumpled.

"None of your concern," she said shortly, pushing her wild, black hair back out of her face.

"If you say so," Hermione retorted, mimicking Oonagh's tone. "But if it had something to do with you being Muggle-born, then I think it is my concern."

Oonagh looked down at Hermione with an expression of disbelief. "It had nothing to do with that; they're just so pin-headed they can't come up with any other insults." She shoved her wand into what looked like a hip-holster under her robes and started to walk away.

Hermione hurried to keep up with her. "Well, what was it, then? It didn't sound like they're going to give up so easily. Maybe I can help."

Oonagh stopped walking and rolled her eyes. "If you must know, they were having at me because I'm taking Apparition lessons with you lot. I had the Heebie-Jeebies last year and couldn't risk Apparating. But I want to get my license now. Happy?" She walked away without waiting for an answer.

"That's it?" Hermione ran a bit to catch up with her again. "Then why the war cries?"

"I have a right to defend myself." Oonagh patted her side, where her wand was hidden under her school uniform.

Hermione's eye followed the motion. "Good thing you happened to have your wand with you, then," she ventured, suspecting it hadn't been happenstance at all.

"I never, never, go anywhere unarmed," Oonagh said, narrowing her eyes. "I know they told us not to bring our wands this morning, but that'd be asking for it, wouldn't it." She eyed Hermione. "I see you took yours, too," she said with a bit of a triumphant smirk.

"Of course," she said, feeling uncomfortable about the lie she was about to tell. "I had to, as a Prefect." She didn't want to tell Oonagh what had really happened; although, Hermione considered, Oonagh was probably the only person at Hogwarts who would have understood.

"Ah, right," Oonagh muttered.

Oonagh seemed to be heading back to Gryffindor tower, which was exactly the place that Hermione had wanted to avoid.

"Hey, Oonagh...? Wait a sec. Do you... want to go somewhere and talk or something?"

"About what?" Oonagh asked impatiently, not slowing her pace. "I told you, those buffoons are nothing serious. It doesn't bother me, really."

"No, not about that. About... you know. Before." Hermione's gaze flicked down to Oonagh's scar.

Oonagh stopped now, her voice becoming brittle. "There's nothing to talk about. We decided not to talk about it, remember? That's what you said. That's what we all agreed to. Even Dumbledore. Don't tell anyone."

"We said not to let people know," Hermione said. "But it's not a secret between us. Do you ever..." Hermione hesitated, then plunged on: "This morning, I thought they'd come back." She flashed a nervous smile. "I mean, I thought they'd come to take us again. Isn't that crazy?"

"Granger, I think that every single day. Why do you think I keep my wand on me twenty-four-seven?"

"Does it help? I mean, do you feel safe?" Hermione asked softly.

"Of course not. I'll never feel safe," Oonagh said shortly. "And that's exactly what keeps me safe. But I think you know that." She directed a meaningful look in the direction of Hermione's wand before turning and walking off.

+++000+++000+++

"Then where is she?" Hermione gripped the edge of the wooden counter anxiously, trying to keep her hands still.

The Medi-witch looked at her over the top of her granny glasses. "She was released, dear," she said, not unkindly. Hermione recognized her vaguely from her many previous visits to Lisa's ward.

"Oh..." Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. She'd experienced a racing panic when she'd opened the door to Lisa's room and found the bed empty. "Then... that's good, isn't it? She must be doing better?" To tell the truth, Hermione was a bit surprised. When she'd visited Lisa last week, she had still seemed weak, both physically and mentally.

The witch arched her brows. "You know I can't discuss patients with outsiders."

"I know. Can you at least tell me where they took her? I'd like to write her," she added, putting on an earnest expression.

The Medi-witch seemed to be weighing professional ethics against charity, and finally relented: "I think an owl addressed to her at home would reach her."

Hermione thanked her, then went to wait for her appointment with Teresa. Although she was glad that Lisa wasn't dead (her first thought), she was actually relieved that she was gone. Now she wouldn't feel obligated to visit her when she came to talk to the therapist. It was awful of her, she knew. But as far as she could see, her visits with Lisa hadn't brought either of them anything. They had been superficial and awkward. She also hadn't tried to contact Sandy since she went home during Christmas break. It would just be another reminder of what had happened. Of what fate she'd been spared. Or was it Snape who'd spared her? She didn't want to think about him.

She told Teresa as much: "I need to be done with this. I don't think I'll be coming anymore." She was surprised to hear herself say it, but it felt good to. She'd never looked forward to the sessions, and felt drained afterwards. And with Lisa gone, there was no extra reason bringing her to the hospital.

"Do you feel like you're done with it?" Teresa asked mildly. "Can you just turn it off like that?"

"I don't know," Hermione said, thinking of the incidents of the past week, "but I need to," she finished stubbornly. "I feel like I keep getting dragged back there. Everything reminds me."

"I wish you'd reconsider."

Hermione shook her head and pressed her lips together. She felt like she was about to cry, but she didn't want to lose control now. She had to keep control. "I can't. Every time I come here, I have to think about it again."

"We don't have to talk about it. We can talk about something else."

Hermione sniffed and looked out the window. It was easier to maintain control if she didn't have to face Teresa's clear-eyed gaze. "It doesn't matter. Just coming here means admitting that it happened."

"Do you want to deny it?" Teresa's tone was casual, as usual, but there was a sharpness behind the question that Hermione took as a challenge, and responded fiercely:

"Yes! I know that's not 'healthy' and that I have to accept it and get on with my life, but yes! I want to deny it. I want for it never to have happened, all right? Is that so bad?"

"I don't think it's bad. I wish it had never happened to you, either. But that doesn't make it undone. There are consequences to a traumatic experience like a brutal rape, whether you want them or not."

"I know, thanks," Hermione said venomously, crossing her arms. She felt the tears swimming in her eyes and tried to keep them from overflowing.

"For what it's worth, this is the first time I've seen you get angry about it," Teresa said. She seemed to sense that Hermione needed her to talk, so she went on: "You've said before that it made you angry, but I never saw the emotion. You've been trying to control it so hard, Hermione. It's like you think that by controlling your feelings now, you can control what happened in retrospect. It doesn't work like that. What happened, happened. It was out of your control. You couldn't do anything. It's not your fault. It's not your fault what happened to you, or Lisa, or anyone else who was there."

Hermione broke down and let the tears come. "But it's my fault now, right?" she shouted. "That's what you're saying, isn't it? It's my own fault now if I get messed up about it? If I 'bottle up my emotions' or whatever the medical term is, and end up going crazy or killing someone?"

"You can decide now what to do with your life," Teresa responded carefully, passing her a box of tissues, which Hermione snatched out of her hand. "From what I've seen of you, I don't think you're heading for a breakdown like that. But I also think it's clear that you haven't worked through your feelings regarding the attack. You said that everything reminded you of it. Unless you're literally being confronted daily with relics from that night, I think that means that you're still working through it, internally. You certainly won't serve your own peace of mind by pretending that it didn't happen, or that you're over it when you aren't."

Hermione neglected to mention that she did, in fact, have to deal civilly with her rapist nearly every day, because she knew that the other part of Teresa's statement was true as well.

"So you think I should keep seeing you," she said sullenly.

"Not if you don't want to, no. I wouldn't want you to expend your energy fighting me."

"It's nothing personal."

Teresa smiled wryly. "I don't take it personally. I like you, Hermione. I feel good that you've been able to talk with me as much as you have about what happened to you. But I have sensed that you haven't been able to completely open up to me. Maybe it's because I'm still a stranger to you, although some people find it easier to talk to a stranger about their personal issues. It doesn't have to be me, though. If there's someone else in your life who you feel more comfortable talking to, I'd certainly encourage you to do so. I know that rape is a very personal thing, and that it won't be easy to bring it up. But once you have, maybe you'll stop seeing those reminders of it everywhere else."

Talk to someone else? Hermione thought cynically. Who was there? Oonagh would just tell her to toughen up; her mother would make a huge scene and forbid her ever to go near anything or anyone even remotely magical again; Harry would go on a rampage and probably try to kill Snape with his bare hands. None of those things would do Hermione any good. However, keeping up her sessions with Teresa also seemed like too much effort for too little return at the moment. "I'll think about it," she agreed. "I still don't know if I'll come back, though."

"I'll be here if you want," Teresa assured her.

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