At What Price?

Chapter 11- Third Time's a Charm

Harry groaned as he rolled over and turned off the ringing alarm clock. He considered rolling over to going back to sleep. He didn't have anywhere he had to be, nor anything that required his immediate attention. It was the perfect day to sleep in. Since he was going to Hermione's later that day and to Hogwarts the next, he wouldn't be seeing a good lie in again until Christmas.

Just as he was about to get comfortable, Hedwig hooted at him. "What is it girl?" Harry watched as she bobbed her head toward the window and hooted again. Harry looked up and out the window. On the pole opposite his window sat four large owls and a fifth, very small one. Harry groaned and rolled out of bed. No sooner had he opened the window than the smallest bird rocketed from his perch and dove for the open window. Harry cupped his hands and caught the ball of hooting feathers like an errant cricket ball.

"Hello, Pig. Busy day?" Pigwidgeon hooted and flapped his wings, bouncing in Harry's palm like an electrified Ping-Pong ball. "Alright, you nutcase, hold still. Harry removed the two notes attached to his leg and set him down next to the water dish. The other owls began perching on the window as well, each patiently awaiting his attention. Harry found himself going through owl treats at an alarming rate these days; in the last week alone he had gone through almost two pounds of them. He hoped what he had left would last him through the day. Grabbing a handful he turned to the window just as his door opened.

"Boy, it's time to..." Vernon's booming voice faltered. "What in the bloody hell is this mess? Can't you at least train them to stay out of sight?" Harry turned to Vernon and leveled an icy glare on him.

"What are you worried about? After today you'll finally have your nice, quiet, peaceful, normal existence back. So maybe, just this once, you could keep your trap shut." Harry could plainly see that Vernon was torn between telling him off for taking that tone and wanting to jig with joy at the prospect that within hours Harry would be leaving forever.

He appeared to settle for just being nasty. "I think tonight I'll treat my family to a nice dinner out in celebration of that very fact. Probably someplace nice, someplace where I would never dream of taking the likes of you." He gave Harry a victorious, though malevolent, smile. Harry had seen that same smile when Vernon was burning his Hogwarts letters six years earlier. Harry wanted to laugh as he thought about how much he had changed, and how little Vernon had changed.

"Well then, have a good time. Now, why don't scurry along and let me get to my post. I have a lot to do before I leave."

"And good riddance, I say."

"Same to you." Harry retorted as he turned back to the window. A satisfied smirk crossed his face as the door slammed behind him. "So Theseus, what have you got for me?" The large Horned owl blinked at him and extended his leg. Harry removed the letter and set it aside since it didn't bear any kind of official marking. Harry figured it was probably a reminder to catch the train and not forget anything. The next two owls both bore short notes informing Harry that the Order would have agents in place at Platform 9 3/4 and in Hogsmeade when the students arrived. Harry responded with an affirmative thanks to each of these and sent them back with their respective messengers. Finally he turned to the last one.

"Stephen, how are you today?" The large snowy owl hooted pleasantly at Harry and began to preen his already immaculate feathers. "Yes, you can come in." Harry chuckled as he took the scroll case from the proud raptor; then watched it deliver a still squirming mouse to Hedwig. "I think he likes you, old girl." Seemingly in defiance of his joke, she snatched the mouse from Stephen's claw and savagely broke its back. She looked at Harry and made a spiteful hoot before settling in to devour the mouse. "Alright, I won't mention it again."

Harry tapped the scroll case with his wand and it opened. Carefully he unrolled the documents inside, which included a copy of the Morning Prophet amongst other things.

With an exasperated sigh, Harry tossed the letter on to his desk and unrolled the Morning Prophet. Ministry Race Heats Up, Malfoy Surging in Polls. Harry skimmed the paper looking for anything interesting, finding nothing he tossed it onto his bed. He picked up the letter from Delia again and re-read the second paragraph, several times. He knew that Arthur could do the job. Arthur deserved the job. He was a good man; he'd been faithful and hard working. He fought the good fight. Why couldn't Delia just see his side on this? Why did she have to be so bloody pig-headed about it? In frustration, Harry threw the letter down on the bed and went to his trunk to make sure it was packed.

"Haaarrrrreeyyyyy!" Petunia's voice pierced the pleasant morning, scaring Stephen and causing Theseus to fly away. Harry pulled on a pair of sweats and opened his door.

"Yes Petunia."

"Hurry up, your breakfast is ready."

Harry shook his head and turned to Hedwig. "Did she just say my breakfast was ready?" Harry couldn't remember Petunia fixing him breakfast since he had been old enough to cook, and that had to have been eight or nine years ago. However, Harry was not going to pass up this opportunity. After all, he could hear the voices of Dudley and Vernon coming through his window. That meant they were outside and leaving. Quickly he pulled on his Puddlemere United jersey, a gift from Oliver the year before, and headed down stairs.

"Morning, Harry. Pineapple-orange juice or cranberry-apple?" Harry looked with astonishment at the spread on the kitchen table. It wasn't Hogwarts, but it was better than he had ever seen at the Dursley's. There were kippers and bacon, waffles with sliced strawberries, and eggs over-easy. A teakettle sat in the middle of the table, and the milk and sugar bowls were out.

"Uh, apple-cranberry, please." Harry smiled as Petunia set his juice down and sat down opposite him. He speared a waffle and offered it to Petunia, who graciously accepted, before spearing one for himself. His final three weeks here had been rather pleasant. Mrs. Figg had spent a great deal of time occupied with helping Professor McGonagall. As such Harry had been spending a good deal more time at home. On more than one occasion he and Petunia had blown an entire afternoon just sitting around visiting about whatever they could find to talk about. After a few false starts, Harry had found some comfortable topics and Petunia had shared several childhood stories about Lily.

"So, Harry, tell me; why are there so many owls all of a sudden? Are you taking advantage of my hospitality?" Harry noticed she smiled as she took a bite of waffle. Harry was amazed to find that under all her rough exterior she had a rather wicked sense of humor. She claimed it was the only thing she and Lily had ever had in common.

"I'm the leader of an international resistance movement of freedom fighters." His response was made with a perfectly straight face. Petunia raised an eyebrow.

"Really. I'm joining a new age movement that claims to be able to help people realize their full potential by becoming wizards and witches." Harry thought quickly as he tried to maintain an indifferent expression. It wasn't the first time they had played this game.

"Tonight my friends and I are casting the final spells on a set of rings that will allow us to escape from danger and alert each other, even if we're on the Continent." He cast the challenge back to Petunia.

It took a long moment for her to respond. "On Halloween, Arabella and I are traveling to Stonehenge to dance naked under the moonlight and summon the spirits of the dead." She gave Harry a sardonic smile, as though daring him to top that.

"I'm the reincarnation of a thousand year old wizard. He was the final Heir of the Baron of Marthyr and was deposed by King Canute in 1026." He smiled triumphantly as Petunia sighed dramatically and threw up her hands.

"Alright, you win. I was sure the Stonehenge thing was a winner." Petunia shook her head and took a sip of her tea. He was glad that Stonehenge was her last ditch effort, he didn't think he could take another visual nightmare like that. "Who's picking you up, and when?"

"The Grangers, about 11:30 or so," he responded around a bite of waffle. "Speaking of the Grangers, they said it would be okay if you contact them when you need to get hold of me. Hermione writes home every week so if you contact them I'll hear about it within a week at most."

"Eleven-thirty you say." Harry was getting frightened now. Petunia had a speculative look on her face. It was the same one she had had before she invited Amber to his birthday dinner a month before. The two finished their breakfast and spent part of the morning working together in the rose garden. By the time the Grangers arrived to pick up Harry he had finished his packing and Petunia had laid a rather lavish spread of sandwiches and salads.

Lunch was a leisurely affair, and Petunia seemed to be doing all she could to prolong it. In a way Harry was reluctant end it as well. It seemed to him that they were trying to compress everything that could have been into one afternoon meal. Petunia and Emily Granger visited about sending children off to school and waiting to see how much they would change from the end of one summer to the beginning of the next. Petunia made attempts to converse with Ron and Hermione, though Harry and Ginny had to deflect more than one awkward moment when Ron would comment on his mum sending them out to de-gnome the garden and having to quiet the ghoul on nights when he felt particularly rambunctious. Eventually though, it came to an end as all things must. It was still a two-hour drive to Hermione's from Privet Drive.

"Harry," Petunia laid a hand on his shoulder as he was about to walk out the front door, probably for the last time. He turned to face her. "Harry, I...I've...what I mean is." Harry reached out and took Petunia by the shoulders. He looked into her face and could read what it was she wanted to say.

"I know, Aunt Petunia. I wish it could have been this way before now, too. Probably even more than you do; but things happen for a reason." Harry smiled at her; he had gotten very little sleep the last few nights thinking about just this moment. A month before he had been unsure how he felt about his aunt. Now, he was ready to move beyond that. She was family. Unlike the Weasleys and the Grangers though, who had pseudo-adopted him, she was blood; the only blood he had, save a grandmother living in an Alzheimer's Center in Oxfordshire.

He pulled her forward and enveloped her in a hug. The first he could remember ever giving her. The moment, it seemed, was not lost on her either. She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tightly. She stepped back and gripped his shoulders. "Harry, you've grown up a lot this summer, or maybe I'm just noticing it for the first time. Either way though, you're almost a man now. Soon you'll be making a man's decisions. I wish I could give you some good advice, but I'm afraid I don't have any." She wiped at her eyes.

"Stiff upper-lip," he said with a wan smile. "You taught me that. So I don't go away empty-handed. Take care of yourself, Petunia. Maybe I'll check in on you from time to time."

She nodded, "I think I'd like that." Harry nodded also, turned and walked to Emily's waiting SUV, Hedwig hooted knowingly in her cage.

"Oh, Petunia," Harry turned around, but the doorway was already empty, the door swinging shut under its own weight. He shrugged and crawled into the front seat the black Land Rover.

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Harry sat at the table with Ron, Ginny, and the Grangers eating breakfast as the sun struggled to burn away the morning fog outside the east facing picture window. Ron was complaining about having to wake up so early on the final day of summer. He was acting like he wouldn't get to lie in for another nine months. Harry mused that if they stuck to Hermione's N.E.W.T. revising schedule he might be right.

"Such is the price of my love, dearest." Hermione patted his cheek as Ron poured her another glass of grapefruit juice and stole a link of sausage from her plate. Her final pat was quite a bit sharper and made Harry wince. "That's for stealing my sausage." Ron simply grinned and swallowed the link in one bite.

"You know, Ron, you could have just met us at the station later." Harry said around a mouthful of toast. "You didn't have to come down from Ottery for this."

"You don't have to be there to check up on the Order members either Harry," Ron replied. He pointed to Hermione with his fork though he was still talking to Harry. "And Hermione doesn't have to be there for the opening of the portal. However we all seem to suffer from this misguided sense of duty that requires us to get out of bed at six in the morning on the last chance any of us are going to have for a lie-in for months."

Ron was wrong, Harry thought. He did have to be there. He was their leader; he was the one who set them in harm's way. He couldn't very well expect them to be there if he would not be with them. There had been no word from Voldemort in the three weeks since his disappearance. He was being quiet, too quiet Harry felt. A train or a station full of students, as many as a third of them Muggle born, was probably way too tempting a target for a depraved mad man like the Dark Lord. Harry was afraid he would use it to make a statement.

"Harry, you in there?" Ginny had her hand on his arm. He gave her a guarded look. He was trying to keep his fears to himself, hoping that if he didn't voice them they wouldn't become reality.

"Yeah, just a little tired."

"Well, you can sleep in the car on the way to King's Cross," Mrs. Granger said as she started clearing away the dishes. "You kids go get the last of your stuff together. Mum's taxi leaves in fifteen minutes with or without you." Fifteen minutes later Harry climbed into the back of the Land Rover with Ginny and the six of them set off.

Harry watched as the city slid by the window. He watched mothers with their children, businessmen and women on their way to work, and kids his own age walking to the local public school. Life seemed so ordinary here; he wondered what it was like to live a life so ordinary. He voiced his question to Ginny when she asked what he was thinking.

"Unfortunately, Harry, that's not your lot." She took hold of his right hand and fidgeted with the silver ring that was on his middle finger. "I know it's not fair, and that it's not what you would ask for, but I for one am glad." Harry gave her a wondering look, what did she mean and what level did she mean it at? "I can't think of anyone I would rather have protecting us." She moved her hand in a circular motion. "By us I mean the wizarding world. And its not just because of what you did when you were little either. You take care of people, people you know, people you don't. It's one of the things I like about you so much."

She blushed and dropped his hand, turning quickly toward the opposite window. Harry watched her carefully; she was very studiously not looking at him. He wanted to say something to her, but wasn't quite sure what he should say. After a couple of minutes of indecision, he turned back to his own window and watched the city slide by as Ron slept and Hermione read.

King's Cross was busier than he had ever seen it, but then he'd never been here during the commuting hours either. He glanced down at his watch, 8:15. The Hogwarts Express wouldn't be leaving for another four hours plus, the gateway wouldn't even open for another forty-five minutes according to Hermione. Harry climbed up the staircase to an overhead walkway and scanned the room. From where he stood, he could count fourteen people in cloaks; the style that had gone out of fashion in London a hundred years before but were still very popular in certain segments of society. He frowned, someone was missing.

He counted again, fourteen. He considered the possibility that the missing one was dressed as a Muggle, but then discarded it when he realized that it was Delia that was missing. He began running through possible excuses and scenarios. Discarding each of them in favor of more dire predictions as quickly as he could think of a new one. He was almost to the point of convincing himself that Voldemort had kidnapped her and put Imperius on all the rest when he felt fingers goose his ribs on either side. With a startled shout, he jumped and spun around, almost throwing himself over the railing in the process. There was nothing there.

Instinctively he reached for his wand, but realized that he was in the middle of a crowded train station and performing magic in front of several hundred Muggles would probably be a really bad idea. Carefully he scanned the area, but nothing looked out of place, it made the hair on the back of his neck rise. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on the immediate area. There was simply too much going on, too many distractions for him to place anything. Then he remembered the spell that Hermione had taught him a couple of weeks before. He slipped his hand into his jacket and gripped his wand.

Gripping his wand again he strode across the walkway. At a break in the crowds, he rushed forward and into the shadow of the pillar. He felt something warm and soft press against him as he slammed it against the wall and pointed his wand into it. It yelped softly. He could feel the material now. It was slick in his fingers; he grabbed and yanked it as he stepped back a bit.

"Not funny, Delia. I was ready to blast a hole in you as soon as I saw that someone was hiding under an invisibility cloak." She gave him a hard-eyed stare, he noticed that she had hold of her own wand.

"I wasn't trying to be funny. I was trying to make sure you were awake." She put her wand away and Harry did the same before returning her cloak. She grabbed his arm and steered him down the stairs. "We found something out of place on our sweep last night. Unfortunately, we can't get to it right now. It's hidden inside the portal. We tried to Apparate to the other side of the portal and get at it that way, but it seems to be hidden between."

"How does the portal get opened?" Harry asked.

"The conductor has a special magical key. He unlocks the door on the other side and the portal opens on both ends." She glanced at her watch. "He should be there in about five minutes."

Harry frowned, "We don't have any idea what is inside the portal?"

"None. Its got a magical signature is all we know for sure. And before you ask, we're positive it's not the portal itself. Arabella confirmed it." Harry nodded his head. While he liked Delia and always listened to what she had to say, he didn't have the implicit trust in her that he had in Professor Figg. He was suspicious that Delia had figured that out because she had ended a lot of discussions with 'and Arabella concurred.'

He leaned on the rail of the walkway and looked down at the platform entrance. The portal would open in about five minutes. Suddenly the wall disappeared and revealed a black portal that was replaced by an illusion of the wall within the blink of an eye. Hermione cued up her cart and pushed it toward the entrance. "HERMIONE, NO!" Harry's shout echoed off the walls and for a fraction of a second the only sound in the entire station was his voice.

The world fell into slow motion for Harry as Hermione looked up at him. He could see her pulling on the cart, trying to stop it. It breached the entryway and suddenly a long pale green tentacle shot out and wrapped around it. Crookshank's cage and several items on the cart were mangled as the cart was yanked into the darkness. Hermione was being pulled along with it, too terrified to let go. Without a second thought, Harry leapt the railing and jumped onto a train parked below him. From there, he jumped to the ground and was moving at a full run. He noticed that several cloaked figures were moving that way as well.

He saw Ron grab for Hermione, trying to pull her away until a second tentacle shot out and grabbed the two of them. It pulled them into the darkness and Harry busted through the wall of people between himself and the entryway. He was aware of several voices calling his name and telling him not to do it, but he wouldn't stop. He shouted for the others to follow him as he jumped into the darkness, his wand in hand. He had just a momentary vision of hideous yellow eyes in the darkness before he too was grabbed by whatever it was existing in this darkest of places.

Hermione screamed and seemed to leap forward. By the light of her wildly waving wand though, Harry saw that she was being swung around and that the creature had every intention of dropping her into it's widely gaping mouth. Harry pointed his wand at the beast and ignited his own sunlight spell. He heard several voices join his own and other beams of light appeared. The creature howled and threw Hermione back, her body crumpled to the floor with a wet thud.

Just then, another voice was heard to shout and a stream of fire shot from a wand and struck the creature in the face. Harry heard a man's voice yell, "Jonathon! No!" It was too late. The offending caster was snapped forward and crammed into the creature's mouth. The wizard made a frantic attempt to escape, his arm and a head of blonde hair was visible only briefly before the jaws snapped shut, ending any further attempts at escape. Harry leveled his wand, preparing to cast on the beast.

"Don't target it with spells," the man's voice shouted again. "It hunts by reacting to spells cast against it." Harry watched as the man tore a scimitar free from under his robe and swung through the tentacle holding him. The man dropped to the ground next to the beast and again his sword flashed, slicing through another tentacle and causing the creature to release Ron. "Get out of here!" the man shouted and shoved Ron away. Ron tried to protest, but in an instant he was gone through the portal.

"Look out," Harry shouted in response to a tentacle that was coming toward the albino man. He spun, leading with the blade and the appendage recoiled as the sharp edge bit into flesh and muscle. Harry could feel an overwhelming urge to fight this beast welling up inside him. He focused on the feeling, hoping it would grant him the strength to break out of the creature's iron grip. It didn't, but it left him with a powerful desire for his sword, he assumed that it was the influence of Godric Gryffindor's spirit.

He focused on the feeling that was coursing through him, and suddenly his wand was much heavier, its balance had shifted. He glanced down and saw that he was holding Gryffindor's sword. Clumsily, he swung the sword and hacked at the tentacle. On the third swing, Harry was released and fell to the ground. He turned to the nearest snakelike appendage and swung his sword at it mightily. It held a man, who was lying limply in its grasp. Just as he was about to strike, there was a flash of blue light and the blade was suddenly sheathed in flame. He cut through the muscle and sinew, which gave way like butter under a hot knife.

"Get her out of here," the albino man called from a few feet away as he slashed at the creature's flanks, eliciting cries of pain from the creature as it flailed about with it's two remaining tentacles. Harry ducked one and slipped through a lighter area he hoped was a door out, Hermione sagging against him. There was light when he exited, and it was immediately blocked out by the towering form of Ron, who scooped up Hermione.

"Bring her over here," called the commanding voice of Delia O'Day, Harry and Ron went to her. They laid Hermione on a bench. Her breathing was shallow and rapid, she felt feverish and extremities twitched slightly.

"She's been poisoned by a Moat Guardian," said the albino man stepping up beside Harry. "She needs medical attention." Delia sent another woman off to fetch Rama Patil, a medi-wizard of some renown that just happened to be a member of the Order as well.

"Will she be okay?" Ron asked in a thick voice.

"If we treat her quickly, yes." A middle-eastern man then joined them. He and the albino set to immediate work. Ron started to get uptight as they cut away her shirt, but found he could keep his comments to himself when they threatened to send him away. Harry stood next to Ron, worry etching his features as he watched the healer work.

"Why not take her to St. Mungo's?" Harry asked.

"I need to stabilize her before we do anything or make any decisions," Rama replied in his heavily Indian-accented voice. "I am told there is much poison. That must be neutralized before anything else can happen."

Harry sighed and looked on as the healer continued his work. He hadn't closed the wounds yet, but rather seemed to be doing some sort of blood work on her. Harry guessed he was trying to draw out the poison. Someone tapped his shoulder. "Harry," it was Delia. Mutely he followed her. She turned to face him, her face at once sympathetic and commanding. "You need to go back through, somebody has to tell her parents."

"I want to stay here with her. Could you talk to them for me?" He glanced over and saw Ron helping to turn Hermione over. He could see copious amounts of blood as they peeled away her shirt. He started to walk back over as Ron started to argue with the healer about something. Delia grabbed his arm and spun him around. Her strength surprised him, for she was a small woman.

"No, Harry. They don't know me from the Queen Mother, they know you and trust you. If you tell them that she is going to be okay, they'll believe you." Harry wrenched his arm out of her grasp.

"If you know so bloody much about what needs to be done, why don't you do it all? Why didn't you just run for the head of the Order?" Harry's retort was angry and fueled by worry as he looked over to where Ron had moved Hermione from the bench to a counter top, where a blanket had been laid. Delia spun his head around so that he was looking at her again.

"There's an old saying," she snapped, "those who can, do. Those who can't, teach." She closed her eyes and breathed out slowly. "Harry, I understand that you're worried about your friend. How do you think her parents feel though, they have no idea."

"You're right," Harry said quietly, feeling like he'd been scolded, which he was pretty sure he had. Delia gave him a weak smile and he headed back through the gateway. He could see Hermione's parents sitting on a bench, staring intently at the gateway, as soon as he came through they both jumped up and he saw a woman he recognized from MLES reach out to hold them back. He walked over quickly.

"What's going on? Is Hermione okay? What was that?" These questions and half a dozen others came out in a rapid stream that Harry couldn't even keep up with. He motioned them to sit down, and fixed a neutral look on his face. The woman in the Auror's cloak stayed near them. Harry gave serious consideration to lying to her parents, just so they wouldn't worry. However, he realized that he owed them better than that; they had been good to him and he couldn't pay that back with anything less than the truth, albeit slightly sugar coated.

"She's alive," he replied after taking a deep breath. "She's got some injuries, but there's a doctor treating her and I'm told he's one of the best." Mrs. Granger buried her head in her husband's shoulder and cried. Mr. Granger was very serious as he looked at Harry.

"Are you being level with me, Harry?" Harry nodded; thinking the whole situation seemed very odd.

"How are the Aurors doing?" the other woman asked. "Walker and Dunadan both went in after you guys."

"Hell," Harry shook his head, "I knew he looked familiar." He looked up at the woman, "Walker was killed, ea..." Harry stopped, he decided that telling her Walker had been eaten wouldn't be the most prudent move given the closeness of Hermione's parents. "Who's Dunadan?"

"Tall guy, albino, deep voice."

"He's fine, he's assisting Dr. Patil." The woman nodded and walked away to go talk to a man who seemed to be in charge of the area. Harry realized it was Amos Diggory and quickly made to leave the area, promising Hermione's parents he would come get them as soon as possible. He slipped through the gateway just as Amos called his name, but he didn't answer.

He passed through the platform entrance and emerged onto platform 9 3/4 where there seemed to be a great deal of activity. A dozen Aurors were bustling around and the creature had been drawn out of the gateway and now lay on the platform. It was hideous as Harry examined it. It looked vaguely like an octopus, if such a creature had large mouth and terribly long fangs and row upon row of sharp teeth. Its skin was a pale, luminous green and two large yellow eyes stared unseeing out from under thick ridge of heavy bone that was spiked. In all it had maybe twenty tentacles that Harry could see, half of those were twice the length of a man, the others perhaps a third of that.

"How did it get here?" Harry asked.

"By powerful sorcery," Dunadan answered. "They are a semi-amphibious creature normally found only in brackish lakes in southeastern Europe and Asia Minor."

"How deadly is their poison?"

"If it bites you, it's all over. It's a paralytic that causes the heart to stop beating. Fortunately your friend was just scratched so she might make it if she's strong."

"Why is she bleeding so much?" In response, Dunadan pointed to a pair of tentacles that were twice as long as the others and had several spiny ridges near their tips. Harry nodded his thanks and turned away just as Dunadan pulled out his scimitar and split the creature open along what Harry assumed was the creature's stomach area. Harry swallowed and walked away quickly, trying to block out the stench rising from the creature.

Ron was applying a poultice Hermione's back when Harry stepped up next to him. Harry watched, fascinated, as cuts would seal up within seconds of the poultice's application. He realized that it was not a question of large wounds, but instead was dozens of tiny scrapes, each of which Ron had to clean and apply the clear, jelly-like substance to. Dr. Patil stood a few feet away, a tiny vial of blood in one hand and his wand in the other.

As Harry watched, Dr. Patil cast a spell on the vial waited a few seconds then cast another. He sighed, then put it down and picked up another. "What's he doing?" Harry asked Ron as he picked up a cloth and started cleaning blood from an inch long gash on Hermione's back.

"Trying to find a spell to neutralize the poison," Ron answered as he smeared the wound Harry had just cleaned. The two worked in silence for several more minutes while more Aurors arrived at the platform and began to clean up the mess. They turned Hermione over and did the same to the myriad of cuts on her front, though Ron insisted Harry close his eyes until she had been "made decent." This was accomplished by Ron laying his T-shirt over her chest so the could work on her stomach. Harry looked up to see that Ron had bruise about the size of Galleon on his right chest.

"What happened there?" Harry asked. Ron glanced down to see what Harry was looking at.

"Oh, that, it's a... a... bludger injury. Yeah, I got hit by a bludger." Harry noticed that Ron was blushing, his ears were a near incandescent red.

"Does Hermione know you call her a bludger?" Harry teased. Ron gave Harry an embarrassed smile. Dr. Patil came over and joined the two boys, complimenting them on their work. He informed them that he had found a spell capable of destroying the poison, but that it would take time and would have to be cast several times over a period of about three to four hours. It wouldn't be necessary to take her to St Mungo's since he was travelling on the train, but she would need to rest the entire trip.

"Is there anyway her parents can see her?" Harry asked.

"We should move her as little as possible." He thought for a moment then gave the boys a speculative look. "I take it you boys know her parents fairly well?" They nodded. "Do they trust you?" Ron and Harry looked at each other shrugged before answering with an unsure yes. Rama smiled. "You should be able to bring them through the gateway. The wall is only an illusion, as long as they believe they can walk through that wall, they will be able to." He smiled at the boys. "That's the dirty little secret of illusion, if you believe it works, it works. If not, it fails. Now, before we bring them through here, let's clean up our mess and move her onto the train, shall we?"

They moved Hermione onto the train by levitating her, and Harry transfigured a bench in one of the compartments into a twin-sized bed with a thick mattress and a scarlet and gold duvet. Harry went out and assured Hermione's parents that she was doing okay, and that they should be able to see her shortly. He went back to assist with the clean up then, and had Ginny bring Hermione's mangled trunk as well as the thoroughly pissed off but amazingly uninjured Crookshanks. By the time they were done cleaning up the area they had been in, the Aurors had disposed of the beast and removed the bodies of Jonathon Walker and the conductor. Harry and Ron joined in the final stages of clean up, and within an hour of the original attack there was no outward signs of the battle.

Back in King's Cross, Harry approached the Grangers warily. They were sitting alone on a bench, the bustle of Aurors and Order members flowing around them like a river of activity while they were like an island. "Mr. and Mrs. Granger?" They both looked up at him expectantly. "Would you like to go see Hermione?"

"Why can't she come out here?" Ed asked.

"She's resting right now. Dr. Patil said she needs to stay in bed at least until tomorrow morning."

"Just for observation mostly," Ron added helpfully. Ed and Emily looked at each other; their misgivings clear in their expressions.

"Well, there's just one problem boys. We can't get onto the platform. In case you've forgotten, Emily and I aren't magical."

"Do you trust me?" Ron asked. Harry closed his eyes and shook his head. Only Ron would dive in headlong with a statement like that. Harry was surprised when Emily extended her hand to Ron and said that she did. Ron took her hand, somewhat nervously, and patted it to try and reassure her everything was all right.

"Okay," Harry said after taking a deep breath. "As Dr. Patil explained it to me, the most important thing is that you believe you can walk through that wall. It's just an illusion, and you've seen plenty of other people do it." Ron went first, and watched Emily tentatively put her hand up just as they approached the stone column. In the blink of an eye, they were gone. Harry looked over to Ed, who had cocked his eyebrow in an expression of surprise.

"Would you look at that," he said rather shocked. "Shall we?" Ed asked. He lifted his hand and placed it on Harry's shoulder after a moment of indecision as to the logistics of what to do. Harry walked forward and pushed through the barrier. It was odd, he thought. He hadn't actually felt the passage onto Platform 9 3/4 since his first year. It had always just happened. This time though, he actually felt the barrier's resistance. He sensed the passage of a great distance as they stepped into the darkness and back out onto the again nearly deserted platform. "Wow!" was all Ed could say as he looked around and took in the scene. Harry could appreciate what he was thinking, and found himself waxing nostalgic as he remembered his own first time on the platform.

"This way," Harry said, leading Ed toward the first passenger car. Harry watched as Ginny disappeared into the compartment where Hermione was. Dr. Patil exited a few seconds later and extended his hand to Ed.

"Dr. Granger," he said indicating a compartment opposite Hermione's. The Grangers both entered followed by Harry, Ron, and Dr. Patil. "Your daughter is stable and doing as well as can be expected given the circumstances." He held up his hands to forestall the flood of questions that were threatening to erupt. "The creature that attacked her has a cardio-paralytic poison on its primary appendages. The poison acts by thickening the blood and slowing the heart."

"Causing clotting of the blood, slowing of involuntary muscle response, and starving the brain." Ed frowned deeply and started to stand up. "She needs proper medical attention, blood thinners, forced oxygen, -"

"No Muggle medicine can help her at this point," Dr. Patil interrupted him. "It takes too long to react. By the time her blood absorbed the thinner, it would have coagulated in most of the major arteries. Hermione has absorbed a substantial amount of poison through numerous small abrasions and lacerations." He took a deep breath and sighed. "I won't lie to you. Her position is precarious and a great deal of her survival is going to depend on just how healthy she was before the attack."

Ed turned to Harry, "I thought you said she was doing well." Harry stiffened, willing himself not to sink before the penetrating glare of Hermione's father. "And I would have thought that you would be a little more upset about this," he said turning to Ron.

Ron jumped up in response. "I didn't know!" he retorted. Ron pushed his way out of the sitting area, slamming the door behind him as he went. Ed's face was a controlled mask of anger as his nostrils flared with his breathing.

"Dr. Granger, please." It took both Emily and Dr. Patil to get Ed to sit down again. "He's right, he didn't know. I very deliberately did not tell him. I needed his help with a simple but crucial task. If I had told him the truth he would have tried too hard, and not done it properly." Harry bit his tongue, realizing that Dr. Patil had been right in his thinking, but it galled him that lying had been the best course of action. "Now, I have placed Hermione in a shallow coma to slow the muscle functions. She won't hear or see you, but you can go in and see her now."

Ron was already in the compartment with Hermione, sitting on a chair holding her hand. His eyes were fixed on her face as his fingers idly traced the outlines of her hand. Ginny was crouched down next to him, whispering to him intently. Harry stayed in the doorway as Hermione's family clustered around her, Ron staying with them. Ginny came over and slipped her arms around Harry. "She's going to be okay," she said with a conviction Harry didn't feel. He just nodded and returned her hug, more for her sake than any need for closeness. He excused himself with a few muttered words to Ginny.

Harry exited the train to find Dunadan coming out of the next car. "Dunadan, thanks for all your help." Harry extended his hand. "This would have been a whole lot worse if you hadn't been there." The tall man snapped to a rigid stance and shook Harry's hand formally.

"Just doing my duty, Lord Phoenix." Harry gave him a puzzled look. "I'm a member of the Order."

"I thought you were an Auror."

"I'm that too. When Chief Boot began putting together this detail, I volunteered since I knew I was going to be here anyway."

"How many Aurors are here?" Harry asked.

"Ten if you count the people in charge of the operation. Six of those are also Order Members, four of whom will be riding the train- myself included." Harry motioned to a bench and the two men sat down. Dunadan did not relax until Harry told him too.

"Why wasn't I informed that we would have overlapping details? I didn't think MLES was doing anything, that's why I decided to do it."

"The Order has always maintained a distant relationship with MLES, sir. At least that was the way Dumbledore did it. He felt it was best to keep knowledge of the Order out of the public conscience. If we had a formal relationship with MLES then our existence would be fact, not rumor. It's been that way for a few hundred years now. Most people believe the Order died out in the late 1500's."

Harry pulled out his wand and began to twirl it as he thought. "That still doesn't answer my question though. Why didn't I know?"

"I don't know, sir. I owled the information to Arabella and she said she forwarded it to you yesterday morning. I included the list of Aurors that would be here with the names of Order members underlined."

"The letter I didn't open." He smacked his forehead. "Thank you, Dunadan. For everything."

"You're welcome, sir."

"Please, call me Harry."

"Yes sir, Harry." Harry shook his head and looked longingly at the train. He wanted to climb back aboard and be with his friends. He wanted to check on Hermione. Behind him though, the gateway beckoned, and he knew the day wasn't over yet.

"Carrying the weight the world?" Delia asked as she sat down next to him. "How's Hermione?"

"Not good." He felt Delia's small hand slide across his back and run back and forth over his shoulder blades.

"I'm sorry, luv. Why don't you go in and check on her, spend some time with your friends."

"How is everybody? Any of our people injured?" Harry changed the subject. She assured him that everyone was okay. The only injuries other than Hermione's had been the two fatalities. He wondered aloud if he should go out and thank everybody for their work and their help.

"Yes, that would be a good idea. While you're out there, you could make a statement to the Prophet, endorsing Jack Boot for Minister. Thanking him for having his Aurors here to help control the situation."

"I've told you before, Delia. I think we should put Arthur Weasley out there for Minister. I don't think we could find anyone better." Harry could feel his blood pressure rising, he and Delia had been going rounds about this since Lucius Malfoy had announced his candidacy.

"So, you'd rather see Lucius as Minister?" she asked him pointedly. "This isn't a game, Harry. This is for all the marbles. Arthur is not a viable candidate, especially this late. The voting will be done next week, and with the strength of the Prophet behind him, Lucius controls the media. If it wasn't for the recent appearance of One Lone Wizard and Jack's name recognition, this race would be all but over." Harry shook Delia's hand off of his back and shoved away the copy of the small run newspaper that had gained sudden prominence since the night of his kidnapping from MLES headquarters.

"Come on, Harry. The WWN is out there, and if you just casually remark to them that you think Jack Boot would make a good minister he can get ahead of Lucius in the polls. You can push the swing vote, Harry. You have that power."

"If I have that kind of power, then what happens if I make this a three way race?"

"Then Lucius wins. The people who support Lucius aren't going to vote for Arthur Weasley. All you accomplish is splitting the liberal vote." Harry didn't answer, he was sure that if they worked hard enough and fast enough they could get people to see the advantage of voting for Arthur Weasley. He was too good a man not to vote for. "Fine then," Delia snapped as she stood up. "Do what you will, and when Hermione and all the other Muggle-borns are kicked out of Hogwarts by Ministerial Writ, don't say I didn't warn you."

As he watched Delia walk away, Harry was forced to confront the very real possibility that she could be right. He was smart enough, and mature enough, to know that his stubbornness was probably doing him a disservice. As he ran back through the discussions he and Delia had been involved in over this topic, he realized they sounded more like tantrums than discussions. He took a deep breath. There was a time to stand your ground, and there was a time to listen. "Delia, wait."

She whipped around, "What?" Harry stood up and walked over to her.

"What makes you so sure that Arthur can't win?"

"Because this is what I do." Her voice hadn't lost any of its edge, though she had ceased biting Harry's head off. "I run political campaigns. I ran Fudge's campaign for election as Minister in 1982."

"We have you to thank for this wonderful mess?" Harry cocked his head slightly to the side, "and now you want me to take your political advice?" Before she could retort, Harry held up his hands and begged her apology. The two sat and had a long conversation. Ultimately Harry gave in to her. Not because she had convinced him that there was anyone better for the job than Arthur Weasley, but because Jack Boot was, by far, the lesser of two evils.

Harry stood up and indicated that he would like Delia to come with him. "Sorry, can't Harry. You're on your own for this one. If I go out there with you, it will look staged and that could open a whole other can of worms." Harry nodded and headed for the platform entrance. However, several people stepped through before he could get there, very few of them were students. Harry rather thought the reporters looked like vultures descending on a kill as they approached him.

"Mr. Potter!" they all shouted in varying degrees of excitement as they jostled each other for his attention. He smiled ruefully and waved, addressing one or two of them by name. He relayed the story and answered their questions, all the while carefully guarding the words he used. "Miss Granger is injured, you say." Harry groaned. That pinched, nasal voice could only belong to one woman.

"Yes, Rita, she was severely injured in the attack." Harry gave the woman a severe look, which she returned with an insincere smile. "Were it not for the quick response of Aurors like Dunadan, and the medical skills of Dr. Rama Patil, this day would have been far different." The questions changed direction as Harry praised the Aurors. Soon, the reporters had filled their notebooks with scribbled quotes and had moved on, noticing the presence of Delia O'Day. The questions to her centered on the campaign and how she felt her candidate would do in light of his indirect tie to the day's activities.

"She's a brilliant woman." Harry spun around at the sound of the voice behind him.

"Mr. Boot," Harry extended his hand. "I had no idea she was your campaign manager." He squeezed Jack's hand firmly and leaned in close. "I don't like being made a pawn." There were several flashes of purple smoke and Harry turned his head to see that several cameras were pointed in his direction. He smiled at the reporters and wished Jack well before retiring to the train. He wondered if Peter had been this frustrated and angry when he and Sirius had closed the virtual trap that ended his fugitive existence.

He made his way through the car, to the compartment where Hermione lay. The room was full of people: her parents, Ron, Ginny, and Dr. Patil. Ginny noticed him standing in the hallway, and came out to join him. "You look angry," was her greeting. She reached out as though she wanted to reach up and put her hand on his face, then rethought her action halfway through. Her hand hovered between them, as though unsure where to go.

"Oh, isn't that sweet, so touching, really." Ginny dropped her hand and Harry turned an angry glare on the pale owner of the drawling voice.

"Sod off, Malfoy."

"Beat it, Potter, you're standing in the way of my seat." He smiled, though there was no humor or warmth in it. "I get to share a compartment with your friend. Just think, me and Granger, alone for four hours." Draco's sneer was cold, as though he was as disgusted by this proposition as Harry was. Harry clenched his fists and advanced a step on Draco. Ginny laid a hand on his arm to stop him.

"Forget it, Malfoy. You're going to have to find another compartment." Malfoy pointed at a small brass sign above the compartment that Hermione was in. 'Reserved, Head Boy and Head Girl.' Harry shrugged, "Too bad, it's being used as a sick compartment."

"Sucking face with a Mudblood finally made Weasel-boy sick, huh? Tell him to get out of my car."

"I thought I heard the squelching of pond scum out here." Ron stepped into the crowded hallway. Harry interposed himself between Ron and Malfoy. With a muttered phrase and a flick of his wand the brass plate was moved to the compartment across the hall from its original resting place. With another flick of the wand, it now read 'Head Boy and Party.'

"I don't think so Potter." Draco pointed his own wand at the plate and tried to move it back. However, the plate stayed stubbornly still.

"Sorry old chap," Harry said with a smirk, "everything on the train is specially enchanted to be resistant to student wand craft." Harry turned and went into Hermione's compartment, followed by Ron and Ginny. It was cramped to say the least, so Ron made it easier by going out and trying to perform Hermione's Head Girl duties. Harry joined him at the platform entrance and they watched for Muggle students who might need help getting on to the platform. They also made sure that everybody had the stuff they needed before they boarded the train. "Is all this stuff really on her list of duties?" Harry asked Ron after they had directed Robert Whitmore through the gateway and bid Jack, his father, a good-bye.

"No, but you know how Hermione is." Harry nodded, understanding exactly what Ron meant.

"I think we should recommend to the Headmistress that this be made a duty. If you hadn't shown up and your mum hadn't been griping about all the Muggles, I might not have ever made that first train." Ron considered that, and wondered aloud how very different the world would be if fate had not intervened on Harry's behalf. At five minutes to one, they escorted Hermione's parents back through the gateway to the Muggle world and promised to owl as soon as they arrived at the school and again when she was awake.

They jumped aboard the train as the replacement engineer blew the whistle for last call, and the conductor called 'All aboard.' Slowly they made their way from the back of the train to the front. Both boys were anxious to get to the front and check on Hermione, but they also knew she would be disappointed if they didn't take the time to make sure everything was going smoothly. Along the way, Harry was pleased to see that Robert was quickly ingratiating himself to several of the other students with a bit of phenomenal guitar playing as his fingers danced along the fret board of his Gibson Hollow-body Electric. A few doors down, they had to threaten to dock points from both Ravenclaw and Slytherin as they broke up a fight between the son of an Auror and the daughters of Aleksander Nott.

Finally, they reached the front of the train and were about to enter the compartment where Hermione was resting when the door behind them opened. "I hear you're throwing around authority where you've got none, Potter. You too, Weasel." Ron spun around his fists already coming up, but Harry held out a restraining hand.

"You know Malfoy," Harry said, adjusting his glasses. "If you understood anything about authority other than how to abuse it, we wouldn't have had to do that. You could have done it, and backed it up with some actual authority. So don't come crying to me because I threatened your precious house points, especially if you're going to let everything go to hell around you." Harry leaned forward threateningly and spoke in low tones. "The times are tense, and success is going to depend largely on who takes the initiative. You're already a bit slow out of the gate. So grow up and do something with yourself instead of just being Lucius Malfoy's son." Harry spun around and slipped in to check on Hermione, Ron slammed the door behind them.

"That was bloody brilliant, Harry." Ron was smiling until he looked over at Hermione. To Harry's eyes there had been no change in her condition, and Dr. Patil's words confirmed that. Harry wondered if maybe Ron hadn't been hoping for better.

"Well boys, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to go visit with my nieces now." Harry slipped aside and directed him down to where he had seen Parvati and Padma sitting with Dean, Seamus, and a few other seventh years. Ron had taken the vacated chair next to the bed and was holding Hermione's hand again. Harry sat down next to Ginny and leaned his head against the wall. The next thing he knew, Ginny was nudging him awake as the train began the last uphill climb into Hogsmeade.

Harry sat up quickly, "Where are we? Is everything okay?" He hadn't intended to fall asleep, he had wanted to be up, making sure that all went smooth, visiting with younger students and the other members of the Order that were riding the train.

"Everything is fine, Harry." Ginny was holding his school robe out to him. "The Prefects made a few passes up and down the halls, as did Draco. He managed to slap Gryffindor with ten points in penalties before the term even started." Harry slipped an arm into his robe, as he turned so that Ginny could help him slide the other one in the door opened.

"Well, well, well," Draco leered, "No wonder nobody has seen either one of you for the last hour. And with an audience even." Harry snapped his robe the rest of the way on. "There's nothing you Weasleys won't stoop to, is there?" Harry interposed himself between Ginny and Draco as she lunged forward.

"Get out, Malfoy. Go throw your weight around with Crabbe and Goyle, maybe snog Pansy, or something. Just go amuse yourself somewhere else." A look of anger flashed across Draco's face.

"Funny, Potter, fucking hilarious." Draco seemed to compose himself. "About as funny as what happened to Granger. Would have been down right hysterical if Dr. Patil hadn't been there." The door slammed shut in Harry's face, cutting of his retort. Harry shoved the sliding door back open just in time to see Draco enter his own compartment. He had two other companions; one of his goons and an unknown figure in a black silk cloak with a deeply cowled hood and silver and green gloves that matched the trim of the cloak. The door slammed shut effectively ending Harry's response.

"Come on, Harry. Let's make one last pass through the train and make sure everyone has their robes on. About halfway through the third car they ran into Ron, who was doing the same thing, but had started in the back. They returned to their own car to find Dr. Patil standing over Hermione. He swirled a vial and frowned.

"I hope the Potions Master is up to snuff tonight." In response to Ginny's questioning response Dr. Patil turned the vial on its side. As Harry watched, it flowed very slowly, it was so thick it was almost like syrup. "Her blood isn't thinning properly, if we don't reverse this trend soon, she won't make it."

"Write down what you need, I'll send Pig ahead with instructions," Ron said without hesitation. "Let me go retrieve him from the animal car." Ron took off like a shot down the hall, shouting at people to get out of his way. By the time Ginny had finished writing down Dr. Patil's instructions, Ron had returned. Pig didn't so much take off for the castle as he was launched toward the castle.

No sooner had the train stopped than Harry heard the call to gather first years at the far end of the platform. He sighed and poked his head out the window to see Charlie gathering the younger students. Ron put his hand on Harry's shoulder, "I know how you feel. It seems odd not to have his booming voice shouting 'Firs' years over here, all right there, Harry?'" Harry smiled, remembering his late friend; it wasn't the first time he hadn't been there, but it was a little easier this year than last. Soon the five of them had squeezed into a carriage and were headed toward the castle.

At the castle door Madam Pomfrey was waiting for them, the rest of the students were already inside. The group of them trudged up to the hospital wing as the other students gathered in the great hall. "Our last sorting ceremony and we're going to miss it," Ron said a little forlornly.

"Would have only been my third one anyway," Harry responded. "First year and fourth year. I actually thought I might make this one. One every three years and all." They slid Hermione onto a bed and Dr. Patil and Ginny went down to the potion lab. Madam Pomfrey summoned an elf that brought dinner for Harry, Ron, and the others.

Harry and Ron took up positions on either side of Hermione, each holding one of her hands. Harry leaned forward and closed his eyes. His mind had been a whirlwind from the moment he stepped out of the carriage. He could feel the memories of Godric Gryffindor struggling for release within his head, but he had suppressed them while he attended to other things. Now though, they had become a dull roar that gave him a pounding headache. He released the grip he had held them in and felt the first one rise to the surface.

"Honey, honey are you all right?" Godric banged his head on the floor; he didn't have the heart to tell his wife she had just dislocated his shoulder. He stood up and took her hand in his, ignoring the blood that was pooling there.

"Fine dear, and you?" She had deep circles under her eyes and her rich auburn-chestnut hair was plastered to her forehead with sweat. She smiled at him, and he could never remember her being more beautiful.

"Rowena, dear," the mid-wife slipped a cloth wrapped bundle into her arms. "You're first born, a son." Godric watched as Rowena pulled down his blanket a bit. He was red, but had a shock of thick, dark hair atop his head.

Godric laid his hand on his son's head. "Gwynllyw ab Gaethric Marthyr Gryffindor, welcome, my son and heir." White light suddenly enveloped the baby. Godric leaned forward and kissed his son, then his wife. Before anything else could be said, a second bundle was next to the first. This one was a girl. She shared her brother's dark hair, though her eyes were blue, like her mother's. "Hafwen Baudicea Gryffindor, you are my precious one." She cooed and grabbed at his finger, then slapped her fist down in his palm. She pulled her fist away and stuck it in her mouth. Godric chuckled, then kissed her soundly, then his wife as well.

Salazar and Helga were admitted to the room. Both fussed over the babies and Salazar produced a bottle of wine, from which they all took a drink. "So, is Hafwen going to carry the Tal-y-Rhys name?" Salazar asked his cousin.

"I don't think so." Rowena replied in an exhausted voice. "I want her to be able to move among wizards and non-wizards alike without the stigma of a name like that." Salazar nodded in agreement as Hafwen tried to pull his finger into her mouth.

"Well, you two. You look like you've done well. Congratulations on securing your line, Godric." Godric accepted Salazar's proffered hand and pulled the man he considered a brother into a bear-like hug.

Harry was woken from his dream when most of the seventh year students came in to check on Hermione and wish her well. It didn't take long for Madam Pomfrey to get impatient and kick everyone out of the hospital wing. Ron put up a fight, even the threat of detentions his first day back wouldn't dissuade him. However, the threat that he wouldn't be able to visit her at all was enough. So, worried about their friend and frustrated by their inability to help, the three shuffled to Gryffindor Tower, leaving Hermione to sleep in the darkened hospital wing.

-----------------

Draco stood at the top of the stairs outside the school watching the gathering students like a king surveying his subjects. Greg was assisting Pansy up the steps as well and the younger students had all gathered at the foot of the stairs. Several of the seventh years were grumbling, but as he was Head Boy he was the only one with the password for the sword bearing golems that guarded the doors. As he looked out over the others, he realized that Potter was right, it was time for him to stop trading on his name and establish his own power. The fact that he was taking advice from Potter galled him, but he wasn't so stupid as to ignore good advice. He held up his hands, and the murmuring crowd fell silent.

"Students of Hogwarts, as many of you know, and some do not, I am Head Boy Draco Malfoy. This year will be unlike any that we have experienced in our time here. A Head Mistress oversees the school for the first time since Helga Hufflepuff was matriarch here. As with any change at the top, there will be stumbles, there will be mistakes. If there are problems, feel free to come to me and I will do all I can to help you." He waited a moment for the mumbling to die down. As he waited, he saw the final carriage pull up, the one that bore the Head Girl and her retinue. He decided now would be as good a time as any to welcome the students, and establish himself firmly in their minds. "So welcome back, let us have a momentous year in this time of change." He turned to the sword bearing golems that guarded the door and spoke the password causing them to withdraw and the doors to open.

He walked at a stately pace, mostly because it made him the focus but also so that Pansy could walk beside him. Greg walked behind them and created a barrier that the younger students seemed unwilling to breech. So it was that he led them into the great hall where the teachers were all sitting at the head table, save Professor Sprout who seemed to have taken over the welcoming duties formerly performed by Professor McGonagall.

He took a seat at the Slytherin table and watched as the other tables filled. The room felt somewhat empty. Perhaps a fourth of the students that should have been there weren't. At first he attributed it to the fact that the new first years had not yet been seated. However, as he scanned the room he realized all the tables save Gryffindor appeared to be missing several students. Ravenclaw was perhaps the emptiest table. He saw that from the fifth years down, maybe half of their numbers were missing, Hufflepuff wasn't much better off. He scanned his own table; there were vacancies in all the houses. In his own, Nott, Crabbe, and Avery were all missing. In the younger classes about one in four seemed to be missing. He hoped to bolster his ranks with the sorting as he watched the youngest students enter the hall for the first time.

He talked to Pansy as the sorting hat prattled off its inane rhymes, though he turned and paid close attention as the new class was sorted. There were only thirty new students this year, down a fourth from the average. He paid little attention to the names until Professor Sprout called out, "Pascal, Ayla." His gaze fixed on her as she strode regally to the front. In his effort to fully recover and be ready for the beginning of term as well as helping Pansy recover as much as possible, he hadn't thought much about the fact that she would be starting this year, though his mother had reminded him a week before.

"Walks like she thinks she's a queen." Pansy whispered from beneath her cowled robe. Draco gave a non-committal grunt, then motioned for Blaise, Millicent and a couple of promising fifth years to take the seats opposite and beside him. Ayla cleared her skirt and robe and perched on the stool. Her back was ramrod straight and her brown hair was braided around her head in such a way that it resembled a crown. She turned and smiled in Draco's direction just before the hat settled down over her eyes. Within two seconds, she had been declared a Slytherin. Rather than jumping up and running to her table as many others had done, she rose gracefully and strode regally toward the Slytherin table. Draco chose her exaggerated walking time to engage Blaise in a conversation about who was missing from this year's Quidditch team.

He glanced up as she walked by. If she was disappointed by the fact that he hadn't saved her a seat, she didn't show it. She was invited to sit with a group of second and third year girls that included Greg's youngest sister and the daughter of Professor Viscol. When all was said and done, thirteen new students had gone to Gryffindor, nine to Slytherin, and the remainder was split between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.

Then the announcements began. By the time that the Head Mistress was halfway through, Draco was actually beginning to miss Dumbledore. He looked around he saw that he wasn't the only one. He felt his eyelids becoming heavy as she droned on until one phrase grabbed his attention, "Professor Sirius Black will be teaching Transfiguration." The room exploded in whispers except for one young Hufflepuff, who jumped up and whooped, then quickly sat down. As Draco surveyed the students, it became easy to tell Muggle-born from Pureblood. The Muggle-borns seemed not to care, or at the very least be un-phased by the announcement. However, the Purebloods and those that had grown up in wizarding households were all quite animated. Draco simply groaned and put his head in his hands. He had no doubt that Black would play favorites, and anyone who knew anything about school history knew that Black hated Slytherins. He'd very nearly killed one as a prank when he was a student. The fact of his relationship to Potter just made it that much worse.

"In addition, he will be joined by Professor Charlie Weasley, who is teaching Care of Magical Creatures; and Professor Irina Pendra will be taking over as Professor of Muggle Studies." Draco shook his head. Another Weasley, and this one had authority. His father was right, this school was going to Hell in a hand-basket. Fortunately, they could do something about that once his father was named Minister of Magic. He once again tuned out the Head Mistress as she droned on about school rules and the importance of following them, especially in uncertain times.

"The natives are getting restless," Pansy commented dryly. Draco nodded his agreement and waited for a break in the Head Mistress's announcements, then stood.

"Begging your pardon, Head Mistress, but the hour grows late and many of our younger students have much to prepare yet tonight and our older students have duties to attend to as well. Perhaps we could hold a moment of silence in memory of the Headmaster, and then tuck in to our feast so that we are all ready for tomorrow." There was a small round of scattered applause from the students. Draco smiled to himself. He had ingratiated himself to the entire student body in one shot; though he had made a powerful, if not terribly dangerous, enemy. He even returned the Head Mistress's scowl with one of his patented don't-you-wish-you-were-me smiles.

Professor McGonagall made a last couple of announcements, led a moment of silence in memory of the former Head Master, and called for the feast. It was quickly realized throughout the hall that she had forgotten the school anthem, though none complained about this that Draco heard. In time, the senior prefects were instructed to lead their charges home, and the hall cleared. Draco led the young Slytherins to the Serpent's Nest and gave them the password, "Lucius Malfoy for Minister." His father had laughed in appreciation of the idea, 'nothing like reminding them everyday what's in their best interest,' he had said. None of the older students missed the self-serving nature of the password, but only a couple actually said anything about it as they passed Draco, who was holding the door open to make sure none were missed.

The last student to approach the Nest entrance was Ayla. Her robe was open and fastened behind her so that it looked more like a surcoat than a robe. It displayed a skirt of shimmering silvery white beneath an emerald green blouse. He noted that she was wearing make-up, and it made her look older than her eleven years. The fact that she walked and spoke like a debutante did nothing to hinder the image. She stopped before him and curtsied. "My Beloved," she said by way of formal greeting. As was the custom between them, Draco reached out, took her proffered hand, and lifted it to his lips. Her cream colored skin was porcelain smooth and touched with the scent of Jasmine.

"Beloved Mine," he replied in a stilted tone. She smiled at him, though he did not respond in kind. He moved his hand in a gesture indicating she should enter. She held onto his hand and stepped into the common room looking more like a queen than a first year student. The excited whispering that had broken out stopped when Draco swept the room with his eyes. "Prefects, lead the first years to their dorms and make sure they get settled. I recommend the rest of you call it an early night as well." Ayla curtsied to him again, then turned from him; trailing her fingers from his hand as though she did not want to leave, but was forced to. He released her hand and watched as she swept from the room. He noticed that several girls her own age crowded around her, but that the older girls watched her with hard, malicious eyes. He smiled to himself. She had made a production of their arrangement, and though he was bound by magical contract to extend her the same courtesy, he had no obligation to protect her from what he did not know about. He would have to make sure that Pansy filtered the gossip for him.

The room cleared quickly, save for one figure in a black satin cloak with a deeply cowled hood and silver and green trim. She pulled down the cowl and shook out her short hair, where it had grown back on the right side of her head. Draco had gotten to a point where he could look at her without flinching now, though it had taken him two weeks of near constant exposure to her scars to build that defense. The left side of her face had several long scars, including one passing through the eye. The eye itself swam behind a milky white membrane. The flesh on her nose was pink and raw, though Draco noticed it was healing more rapidly than the rest of the skin around it.

"Don't fret Draco, the healing should be complete by Halloween." She smiled, stretching the skin of her left cheek and lips into unnatural folds. She nestled the right side of her face against his hand and kissed his palm. "Someone is going to have to do something about her. She needs to be brought down a few pegs."

"Pansy, you know that I can't allow that. If I know about any organized campaign against her, I am bound to act against it."

"I know. Still, no first year should come in here and strut like that, even if she is your betrothed." Draco could only nod in response. She pulled her hood back up. "Good night, Draco. Sleep well."

"You too, Pansy." Draco turned and walked down the hall to the private room afforded only to the senior Slytherin Prefect. As far as he knew, Slytherin was the only house to have such a thing. Moonlight flooded from the ceiling, enchanted in the same manner as the great hall. It was said that this was once the private chambers of Salazar himself. As Draco crawled into bed, he hoped that the cunning of Salazar would be with him this year, for there was much to do, and many battles to fight.

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Hermione's eyes snapped open, and she stared unseeing up into the darkness. Her pupils dilated fully, trying to absorb light so that she could see. However, her brain could make no sense of the messages it was receiving. She had no idea where she was.

She knew pain though, her blood felt like it was on fire; she could feel it burning under her skin. She was cold and shivered incessantly, yet her skin was burning hot to her own touch. With a monumental force of will she raised her head. She looked down at something sticking out of her arm; the fire was emanating from there. Mustering all the strength she could, she sat up slightly and yanked the needle from her wrist.

Spent from the effort, she flopped back onto the pillow and closed her eyes again. Her arm draped from the side of the bed, and blood dripped from the needle hole, quickly at first, then slower and slower as time wore on, the blood becoming thicker as it dripped and splattered the floor. A few inches away, a clear fluid dripped from the needle into a puddle on the floor.

Read?

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