Omnividence

Chapter Eight - Flying Blind

"'Real' is hard word," he said. "Almost as hard as 'true' or 'now'..." - Susan Cooper, from Silver on the Tree

***

Hours later, Harry opened his eyes. Wondering why he felt so stiff and cold, he realized that it was quite late at night and he was still on the Hogwarts' lawn. What the hell am I...he thought, then groaned. He remembered. He remembered everything.

Groaning again, he sat back against the tree. Harry lifted the front of his shirt and scrubbed it over his face, wiping his glasses and erasing the tracks tears had left on his cheeks.

"H-Harry?" A familiar voice was calling to him. Hermione stepped out of the shadows. "Harry, I hope you don't think I'm being ... nosy again. But it got so late and I was so worried and..."

He cut her off. "I'm fine... Really." He still felt a little groggy, and he was sure that when he had time to brood he would become very depressed. But, for the moment, all his emotions had fought each other to a stand still and he was left with a chilly calm. He hoped it would last awhile.

"Harry," she said again, this time reprovingly. "Every time I've ever heard you say the words 'I'm fine' what you really mean is 'I'm confused, scared and miserable, but it would take too long to explain'." Hermione put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "Or am I wrong?"

There was a long moment where Harry simply stared at her. Then, the ashes in him stirred. He couldn't help it. He started laughing and couldn't stop.

***

"Now what?" Hermione demanded. She stomped over to Harry, who was convulsing with silent laughter. Or maybe he was crying. She couldn't tell what the tears were from. She reached out her hand to shake his shoulder.

Harry grabbed her hand and dragged her down to the ground beside him. "Thank you," he said, very heartily and proved he had been laughing. "Thank you for being so normal. When everything in my life has completely gone to hell, I can always count on you to be yourself."

Hermione started to respond to this outrageous statement, but Harry seized the moment and kissed her. Whenever she broke for air, before she could say anything, Harry would silence her, fiercely, with more kisses. Eventually, she gave up and simply kissed him with the same fury.

It was some time before she found out what he was doing passed out on the grass.

***

Back in the common room, Ron was pacing furiously back and forth. "I should have gone to help her look for him," he said for about the thousandth time.

"Why?" said Ginny. "He's probably fine. And any way, if he comes back to the tower, you'll be here-" she broke off abruptly as the portrait swung aside suddenly and Harry and Hermione stepped in.

They had grass in their hair. Grass in their clothes. Grass stains down the backs of their robes. Green stains smudged on their cheeks. They were holding hands and looking a little sheepish.

Ginny giggled. Ron stood gaping for a few moments.

Finally, he closed his mouth, compressing his lips. "Well, the next time you go missing for hours and Hermione goes looking for you, I'll know not to worry."

Harry grinned. "You sound a lot like Percy, right now. You know that, right?"

Hermione was trying not to catch Ginny's eyes, afraid that she'd start giggling contagiously herself. But she didn't want Ron to explode, and since he was starting to puff up like a toad, she figured she should say something. "I found Harry. As you can see, he's fine."

Ron looked the two of them up and down ostentatiously. "Yes. Barring the fact that the house-elves are going to have a fit on laundry day, you both look marvelous. Positively glowing." He squinted at them. "Are you blushing under all that green stuff?"

Hermione sniffed. "No I'm not, Ronald Weasley..." She gripped Harry's hand tighter and dragged him into a seat by the fire. "But since we're all awake and there's no one here but us... Now would be a good time for you," she poked a finger into Harry's chest, "to tell us what the blazes you were doing asleep on the grass."

Immediately, Ron and Ginny joined Hermione around Harry's seat. He was surrounded.

Harry twitched his mouth, as though he wanted to smile but his heart wasn't in it. "I guess I didn't distract you as well as I thought, 'Mione."

This time, Hermione did blush and rather self-consciously straightened her clothes. But she fixed him with a piercing look. "Spill it, Harry. You had us all worried sick. You disappeared for hours." She glanced at the clock. "It's almost midnight. I found you only forty minutes ago - "

"Forty minutes!" Ron was outraged. "What on earth were you doing for forty minutes?" He shook his head. "I'm not sure I want to know."

"Shut up, Ron," Hermione said. "As I was saying, you spent three hours on the grass. The ravens were nowhere in sight and - "

Harry interrupted. "The ravens were gone?" He sounded rather startled.

"Yes." Hermione glared at everyone. "Am I ever going to finish what I'm saying, or not? Okay, so you passed out. Then I found you. And instead of telling me why you were sprawled all over the ground on a November night, you kiss me!"

There was an awkward silence.

***

Harry looked around the room. It was only is closest friends. Why shouldn't he tell them? Besides, they'd just hammer at him until they got an answer.

"You know I've been trying to use the link to Voldemort for ages, right?" he said slowly.

His audience nodded.

"Well, I did it. I saw his past." Harry swallowed hard. "I saw the night my parents died. From Voldemort's perspective."

No one knew how to respond. Stunned silence was all they had.

Harry scowled. His emotions were still roiling within, waiting for some excuse to send him screaming, crying, hitting things, anything. He didn't want to set it off. Glaring at each of his friends, he said, "I don't want to talk about it, okay? It was... I just can't talk about it." He heard his voice breaking. The hysteria that had gripped him earlier was coming back.

Harry shook his head, hoping to dispel it, to post-pone it long enough to get to bed. "I'm going upstairs," he said, finally. "I'm going to sleep."

He started stalking towards the boys' dormitory, but paused by Hermione's seat. She was sitting frozen, staring up at him in incomprehension and fright. She obviously had no idea what to say.

Leaning down so his lips brushed her ear, Harry whispered, "Thank you," and kissed her softly. He saw her eyes grow bright and he knew she heard what he wanted to say, but could not:

"I love you."

Then he left before he fell apart.

***

"What happened?" Aliset was trying not shriek and wake the other girls, but she desperately wanted to grab Munin and wring the truth out of him. She settled for catching him by the feet and shaking him slightly. "What did you do to Harry?"

His feathers rattling, Munin managed to squawk, "I didn't do anything to the speccy little hero! Now let me go!"

Aliset dropped him unceremoniously onto the bed. "Tell me everything," she said, trying to the keep the steel out of her voice. "I really want to know what you and your bird-brain brother think you're doing."

Munin preened himself for a few seconds before answering. He had absolutely no intention of telling Aliset everything. He loved her dearly, but this was 'need to know' information and as far as he was concerned, she didn't need to know. "Y'know Harry has that link to Voldemort?" he asked.

Aliset nodded tersely. She had her hands on her hips and was still glaring at him. The gods only knew where Hugin was. She had only caught Munin by chance as he was sneaking back into her room.

"Well, Hugin and I thought it would be nice to teach him how to use that link," Munin said, clacking his beak at her. "He's doing marvelously. Who'd have thought?"

"Uh huh. You expect me to believe that you're teaching him out of the kindness in your black little scavenging hearts? Pull the other one, it has bells," she said.

"The expression is 'it's got bells on," Munin corrected absently. "And we taught you everything you know, didn't we?" With that, he flew out the window leaving Aliset to fume silently in the darkness.

But did you teach me everything you know? she thought to herself as she watched his black shape fade from sight.

***

Ron and Hermione, as was usual after this sort of episode, approached Harry tentatively the next morning; Ron, because he never knew what to say in these situations, no matter how often they came up; Hermione, because she still felt a little shy after the kissing and because she was angry at fate for constantly putting Harry through the wringer.

Harry waved off all of their concern. He had been all nerves last night, but it was burnt away by one consuming thought: Revenge. I finally have a weapon against him, he kept thinking over and again. He could actually strike back for once. I'll practice and practice, as long as it takes. I'll spy on that bastard and ruin everything for him. If the addendum 'like he ruined it for me' floated through his head, he was determined to ignore it.

At breakfast, he watched the Slytherins through narrowed eyes. He had always thought they were jerks, but they seemed especially malevolent this morning. Many of their parents supported Voldemort, a villain who didn't know a true prophecy from a self-fulfilling one. And it mattered to none of them that he had murdered Harry's parents.

The fury that had ignited in him last night began to burn more fiercely. Resolutely, he turned away from the Slytherin table. His eyes lit on Hermione instead, and immediately softened.

She smiled when she saw his gaze fall on her. "Hey, Harry," she said. "How are you this morning?" Her tone was light, normal. It, more than the words, was the code they used when things were rough, but no one would hear anything out of the ordinary.

"Fine," he mumbled through his toast.

"Have you done your Transfiguration assignment? Two rolls of parchment?" she asked sweetly.

This time his eyes were full of panic. His mouth fell open and some crumbs fell out. Hard to remember school stuff when I'm battling the forces of evil. It's kind of amazing that I actually get decent marks. He closed his mouth and swallowed his toast. "Uh, no," he said, a little red around the ears. "I completely forgot about it."

"I thought you might have," Hermione said. "Fortunately, we have break before Transfiguration. I'll help you with it."

Harry resisted the urge to let his mouth fall back open in surprise. Hermione usually never gave that much help, asking how they thought they were going to learn anything if she did all the work for them. Maybe last night had a good side to it... Speaking of which, he ought to say something...

"'Mione," he said, his voice low so no one else would overhear. "I - I'm sorry I jumped on you last night. That's not how I wanted it to - " He stopped as she laid a finger over his lips.

"A first kiss is a first kiss," she whispered back. "I wouldn't have had it any other way."

Ron interrupted by sticking his elbow into Harry's plate, as he twisted in his seat to catch a glimpse of Aliset at the Ravenclaw table.

"Do you mind?" Harry said, trying not to laugh. Hermione was hiding behind her Daily Prophet.

"Huh? Oh." Ron blushed and removed his elbow. "Sorry, Harry."

Ginny leaned over from across the table. "It runs in the family," she said, winking and giving Harry a wicked grin.

Harry smiled back. Ginny, of course, was referring to the period of several years in which she was constantly dropping things and bumping into things whenever Harry was around. She had finally gotten over it, to the relief of them both, and Harry was glad she could joke about it now.

"Hey, Harry," Ron said. "Aliset's gone. I wonder why she didn't wait for me?" He sounded a little distressed.

"She probably just forgot something. Or went to the lav," Hermione said. "You don't need to watch her like a hawk, you know."

***

Draco had seen Aliset leave the Hall and figured now would be a good time to ask her what the hell she had done to him. Slipping from the Slytherin table, he quickly followed her into the corridor.

She was just ahead of him and the corridor was empty. Draco snaked a hand out and grabbed the strap of her bag, forcing her to turn towards him. Her eyes went wide with alarm, then narrowed in anger and suspicion.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" she said, all but snarling.

Draco was a little taken aback by her hostility. Surely if anyone was going to be feeling aggrieved, it would be him, right? After all, he hadn't barged into her brain and rearranged the furniture, so to speak. Draco noticed that she was inching backwards, so he caught her wrist before she could bolt.

"What I want, since you ask, is to know what happened Halloween. What did you do to me?" Draco's voice was politeness itself, honed to a razor-edge. He pulled on her arm and drew her towards him, leaning over her and placing his free hand on the cool stone above her head.

Aliset was now caught between him and the wall. Her eyes darted left and right as though looking for an escape route, but she had nowhere to go. "I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy," she said. "If this is a ploy to guilt me into going -"

Draco cut her off. "Please," he said shortly. "This is slightly more important than the Yule Ball, difficult though it is to believe." He took a deep breath. "When you... hit me. I saw things." His own eyes were white with remembered terror and his skin was ashy. "I saw my family. Generations. Then I saw my father. Then myself and... and my death," he finished.

Aliset cocked an incredulous eyebrow at him. "Are you telling me you're clairvoyant?"

Draco's face contorted with fury. He slammed her wrist against the wall, more because he wanted to hit something and his hand was full than because he actually wanted to hurt her. "I'm not a seer. I never have been. That's why I know you did something to me! I need to know what you did. I need to know...is it true?" His voice rose slightly, fueled by desperation.

All Aliset could do is shake her head. "I don't know, Ma - Draco," she said softly. "I really don't. I've never heard of anything like it." She sounded sincerely regretful.

Draco reluctantly released his grip on her. "You have no idea?" he asked, pleading.

She shook her head again. "I'm sorry. If I think of anything, anything at all, I'll tell you," she said.

Closing his eyes briefly in disappointment, Draco nodded and stepped away. "You do that," he said quietly.

"Do what?" asked an angry voice from behind him.

Draco spun around and found himself facing an enraged Ron Weasley.

***

Ron had been worried when Aliset didn't come back to the Great Hall. Hermione kept telling him he was being clingy and possessive, but he wasn't; he was afraid for Aliset. Everything hit her so hard, so if she wanted him because he created a safe place in her life... well, then he'd be there.

With five brothers, Ron had always had people looking out for him. With Harry as his best friend, Ron had gotten used to being forgotten on the sidelines by everyone; except by Harry, who did rely on him, was the first person to ever rely on him. For all his strength and all his fame, his best friend needed someone who liked him just for himself. In being there for him, Ron had found a measure of quiet strength in himself. Now, for all her power, Aliset needed someone who didn't want to use her, and Ron had learned to like being needed.

But, how could he help if he wasn't there? Besides, he honestly liked Aliset and looked forward to seeing her, why shouldn't he try to find her?

So, when he found Aliset and Draco engaged in an intimate conversation in the corridor, hurt and anger flared through him.

***

"Ah. Weasley. Following after a girl like a pathetic puppy, I see," Draco said, turning his drawl up to maximum nastiness. "As you can see, we're busy. Get lost."

Ron turned maroon and his hands balled into fists. He turned to Aliset, looking for some hint to what was going on.

Aliset shoved Malfoy very hard, her face pinched with fury. "Malfoy! How dare you?"

He staggered, almost regained his balance, then fell over. He looked up at Aliset with slightly bitter amusement. "Pretty sad, Weasley, when your girl does your fighting for you..."

Stalking forward, clearly intending to beat the daylight out of Draco, Ron was blocked by

Aliset. She stood over the Slytherin, her whole body shaking with outrage. "I have no idea why you saw what you did, Malfoy," she hissed. "But know this: Prophecies always come true. And I hope yours does in spades."

Draco's face went completely empty except for the penetrating look he gave her. But whether his eyes darkened with fear or anger, no one but he could say. Whatever was fueling them, they burned with some dark promise that made Aliset recoil and step away.

"Are you okay?" Ron asked her, his voice tight. "Come on. I won't let him bother you again."

He drew her away, feeling how she was still trembling, and silently vowed to pay Malfoy back.

***

Ginny was gathering her things from the Gryffindor table, when she noticed that she had accidentally picked up Ron's Divination textbook.

"Damn," she muttered, "I'm going to have to chase him down, aren't I?" She only hoped she could get it to him before she was too late for class.

When she dashed out of the Hall, she tripped over Draco Malfoy.

***

"Are you okay?" Ron asked again, more gently this time. "You seem awfully shaky." He stopped, as a horrible possibility occurred to him. "He didn't do something to you, did he? I swear I'll kill him..."

Aliset shook her head. "No. It's nothing like that. If anything, I did something to him. But that's not what I'm upset about." Her voice was thick, and Ron realized she was trying not to cry.

He halted in the corridor and pulled her out of the rush of students who were on their way to class. By and large, everyone was ignoring them, for which he was grateful. He did not want an audience. "What is it?" he whispered. "You can tell me."

Turning to face him with a stricken expression, she whispered, "I didn't see any of it coming. Nothing. Not for days." Her skin matched her soft grey hair and she looked at Ron as though she didn't see him. "I'm supposed to be clairvoyant! But... I feel like I'm going blind."

***

"Oh good grief, Malfoy," Ginny said, picking herself up. "Every time I see you, it seems like you're sprawled all over the floor."

"I think I need to talk to you," said Draco, with an odd note to his voice.

"About what?" Ginny said tiredly. Forget about getting the book to Ron, it seemed. "And do I need to talk to you?"

Draco looked like he was going to retort, then winced as he bit his tongue on whatever he had planned to say. "Okay," he said slowly. "I suppose that's a fair question. How about 'curiosity' as an answer? I want your opinion on Halloween."

Ginny gaped at him. A Malfoy asking a Weasley for an opinion? And not 'Would you rather be drawn-and-quartered or beheaded?' For a moment, her mind drew a complete blank on what to say. "Do you mean Halloween in general, or the events that transpired recently?"

With a disgusted sigh, Draco gave her a very pissy look. "What do you think? Is it a satanic celebration meant to raise the power of the netherworld, a pagan celebration marking the old New Year, or is it a damn silly question to ask at a time like this?" he said acidly.

He finally got up from the floor and dusted himself off. "For your information, my vote goes with the third answer. I want to talk about what happened this past Halloween, not comparative cultures."

"Gosh, what an invitation," Ginny said. "How could I possibly refuse?"

"Good. Meet me by the Quidditch pitch before dinner," he replied shortly, the strode away to class.

Ginny let her forehead rest for a moment on the wall. What am I doing? she asked herself. I'm a mad woman. But she'd be there. Draco was right. She was very curious.

***

Ron hovered protectively by Aliset, escorting her to Defense Against the Dark Arts. He waved to Sirius, then bolted for Divination. I am soooo late, he thought. He would normally be fairly cheerful about it since, as far as he was concerned, the less time he had to spend listening to Professor Trelawney the better. But today he was worried about Aliset. What could make someone lose their natural ability like that? Maybe, and he realized that this was a long shot, Trelawney would know.

Harry had saved him a seat, their usual one as far from the insect-like professor as possible. Ron slid in beside him, a little breathless from scrambling up the ladder to the classroom.

"Hey, Ron," Harry said under his breath. "What kept you?"

"I'll tell you later," Ron whispered back. "I need to ask Trelawney something."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "What? What does she know? She's just an old - "

"Welcome, my children," said Professor Trelawney, in her usual airy-fairy tone. "Mr. Weasley, I will not take points from Gryffindor for your tardiness. I know it couldn't be helped."

Ron looked faintly surprised and gratified. Lavender and Parvati cooed appreciatively.

Honestly, Ron thought in disgust. Those two have been simpering over this old baggage for three years. You think they would have given up by now.

"Now, children," Professor Trelawney said. "We will be looking at entrails today. I would like you to all open your texts to page sixty-seven."

"Entrails," Harry groaned. "Figures. It's spaghetti for lunch today. Terrific." He noticed that Ron seemed preoccupied. "Something the matter?"

Digging into his rucksack, Ron rummaged futilely for a few moments. "Oh, bugger," he murmured. "I've gone and left my book at breakfast."

"You can look over at mine," Harry said.

Their sotto voce discourse had caught Professor Trelawney's attention. "Boys, I understand," she said, with less patience than usual, "that you are less than fascinated with Divination, despite the insights you could have if you ever applied yourselves..."

Ron broke in. "Professor Trelawney?" he asked, somewhat diffidently. "I have a question."

Professor Trelawney seemed to waffle between hope and irritation. Irritation won. "What is it, Mr. Weasley?" Clearly, she wanted to get it out of the way as quickly as possible and proceed with the lesson.

"Is there any way that clairvoyance can disappear?" Ron asked quickly. "Maybe be blocked?"

Professor Trelawney's hand fluttered up to her chest. "Oh, Mr. Weasley," she said, breathily. "I knew you would develop an interest in Divination!"

Harry couldn't stop himself from snickering slightly. "You have no idea how interested," he muttered.

***

Aliset slunk into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, trying for a seat in the back. What is wrong with me? she thought desperately. What's happening? That was the one hundred quid question, wasn't it? She didn't know what was happening. She always knew. Or rather, had always known. Now, she was as clueless as everyone sitting around her. What am I going to do?

The past, she could still see. It was one of the reasons it had taken her so long to catch on. But the present and the future were a mystery. How do they stand it? she asked herself miserably, looking at her classmates. How can they stand not knowing? Every day for the last six years, she had cursed the ability that made her the pawn of Karkaroff. But, now that it was gone, she could only mourn how blind she had become.

***

Sirius noticed her when she came in. He had thought about her rather a lot since his recent conversation with Harry.

"Ah, Miss Yasna-, Yasnovi-," Sirius tried gamely, then gave up. "I'm glad you decided to join us." He dropped the jovial tone, and looked at her closely in concern. "Are you feeling alright?"

He felt a pang shoot through him as Aliset met his eyes. She was clearly, desperately unhappy.

"I'm fine, Professor," she said quietly.

"Please stay after class, Miss Ya-," Sirius started, then shook his head. "How do you pronounce your name?"

"Yasnovidashaya," Aliset said, a little louder and with a slight smile.

Sirius gave her a look of despair. "I'm never going to be able to say that!"

The class laughed a little. Aliset's mouth formed into a wry grin.

***

"I hope you all heard Mr. Weasley's question," Professor Trelawney said, her voice no longer wispy. She actually stood up from the depths of her upholstered chair and walked around the classroom as she spoke, albeit with difficulty due to the number of poofs and small tables scattered through such close quarters.

"It is true," cried the Divination professor, "that there are ways to disrupt," she let her voice drop dramatically, "even pervert, the noble art of Seeing." She struck a pose by the fireplace, risking all her draping clothes going up in flames.

Apparently she realized this and stepped away. "There are ways in which the greatest of Seers can be thwarted..."

"Oh, what are they?" asked Lavender, breathless.

"There are many ways," Trelawney said, collapsing back into her chair, as though exhausted by her brief constitutional. "I want you all to write these down."

There was short scramble as everyone dug out parchment and quills. Ron waited, his quill poised and ready.

"What's this about?" Harry hissed, and was surprised when Ron ignored him.

"Firstly," declaimed Trelawney. "A witch or wizard, wishing to prevent a clairvoyant from spying upon them, may gather to themselves either a clairvoyant of greater proficiency or a number of minor visionary talents. These others can bend the realm of vision away from those who wish to remain hidden, effectively concealing their presense from anyone wishing to sense them."

"Realm of vision," Harry said, complaining. "Can't she talk like a normal person?"

"Shh!" Ron said, without looking at him.

Harry gaped at his best friend in shock.

Ron seemed to sense Harry's confusion. "I need to know this for Aliset," he said, very quietly.

Harry shut up and started paying attention.

"Secondly," Trelawney went on, not seeming to notice their interruption. "A clairvoyant may be blocked if other seers are sent to his or her vicinity. Again, they bend their talent against the other-world, putting blinkers, as it were, on the inner-eyes of the targeted clairvoyant."

Everyone scribbled furiously. Lavender kept casting glances at Ron, who had suddenly caught her eye due to his new-found interest in her favorite subject.

"Then, too, there are charms and amulets that might be used against the seer," said Trelawney. "Casserite, or Cassandra's Bane, is a mineral that causes total disruption of a clairvoyant's ability. This mineral is used to make tin. Therefore, clairvoyants must avoid tin and bronze at all costs, lest they find themselves blind."

Ron raised his hand. "Professor, are there any ways to get around these blocks?"

"None," said Trelawney in a martyred tone. "No witch or wizard has discovered away to circumvent these obstacles."

As the class went on to finally discuss entrails, Harry's mind was elsewhere. He did know a way around those obstacles. The ravens had shown him.

***

When class was over, Aliset continued to sit at her desk and let the rest of the students wash away into the corridor. Glumly picking at the edge of her robes, she waited for Sirius to come over and talk.

After the last student left (many of the girls casting longing glances at their teacher), Sirius walked over and perched on the corner of Aliset's desk.

"Something on your mind?" he asked lightly.

Aliset hesitated. She knew Sirius was Harry's godfather and that he had spent some time in Azkaban, but other than that, she knew nothing about him.

"Aliset," he said. "Can I call you that?"

She nodded dismally.

"You can call me Sirius outside of class," he said. "Is that okay with you?"

Aliset nodded again, not looking at him.

"Well, I know there's something going on," he went on. "You're usually quiet in class, but today you seem... really unhappy. I don't know how else to put it."

"I'm okay... it's just..." She didn't know how to phrase it.

"Is it boys? I know you had a bit of a run-in with Malfoy. Or is it Ron?" Sirius asked. If it was boy trouble, he might be able to help. He had had his share of broken hearts at Hogwarts. Gave a few of them, too.

"No, nothing like that." She picked some more at her robes. "I - Did you know that Karkaroff is dead?"

Sirius' face hardened. Harry had told him about Aliset's past, not because he was the kind of boy to tell other people's business, but because of how it tied in with Voldemort. But why would this girl be thinking about it now? Surely, she would be glad?

"I knew it, yes," he finally said.

She glanced at him, knowing where he must have gotten the information. "Did Harry tell you that Karkaroff made me see for him?"

"Yes," Sirius said. He was careful not to let any emotion show. He had very definite opinions on wizards who used little girls for any purpose. If Karkaroff weren't already dead, Sirius would have happily killed him on principle.

"Every day I was at Durmstrang, I prayed that some how my ability would vanish. That Karkaroff would have no choice but to let me go." She was controlling her voice as carefully as Sirius had, but with less success.

Sirius felt a stab of pity for her, followed by anger at Voldemort and all his followers. Yet another life twisted by that evil bastard, he thought bitterly.

Aliset turned a pair of scared and bewildered eyes on Sirius. "My problem is now... my prayers have been answered. And now I don't know what's coming..."

"It scares you," Sirius said.

She nodded again.

"I think you should talk to Dumbledore," Sirius said, reaching for a piece of parchment. "What's your next class?"

"History of Magic," she said, almost inaudibly.

"Lucky girl," he said. "I'll send this note down to Professor Binns. You and I are going to visit the Headmaster." And with that, he stood and ushered her out the door.

***

Ginny had just stepped out of the Transfiguration classroom, when two shadows suddenly loomed over her. Her heart sank. Crabbe and Goyle were leering down at her. She tried to edge around them, but they stood effortlessly in her way. She felt in her pocket for her wand.

"Hey, Weasel-Girl," Crabbe said in his laborious baritone. "You in a hurry?"

"Leave me alone," Ginny muttered. If they didn't move in five seconds, she was going to curse them. So what if she got detention?

"Look, Goyle," said Crabbe. "Weasel-Girl dropped her books!"

Ginny looked startled for a second, then furious as BAM, Crabbe knocked her books out of her hands. Goyle chuckled slowly at Crabbe's practical joke.

Crabbe and Goyle started scuffing her things further away. Ginny didn't like to admit it, but these two seriously scared her...

"Crabbe! Goyle!" snapped a voice. "I need you to do something for me."

As the two bullies turned around, Ginny saw Draco standing across the corridor, leaning idly against the wall. His eyes met hers briefly, but that was all.

"Yeah, Draco?" Goyle asked, suddenly submissive. "What do you need?"

"I need you to run back to the Slytherin dungeon and get my winter cloak for me. It's too chilly in this school."

Without another word, Crabbe and Goyle lumbered off.

Ginny looked after them for a moment in sheer amazement. Then she knelt and started hastily gathering her things up off the floor. When everything was back in her bag, she straightened up.

Draco was beside her, one of her quills held lightly between his fingers. He held it out to her.

She took it wordlessly, feeling the brush of his skin against hers. She looked up into his face.

His expression gave away nothing, although Ginny fancied she could see a smile trying to form on his lips.

"See you this evening on the Quidditch pitch," he said, and left.

As she shoved the quill into her bag, Ginny felt herself flush, but didn't know why.

***

"So you think what Trelawney told us will help Aliset?" Harry asked when Divination was over.

"Worth a try," Ron said. "Maybe she'll know if any of them fit."

"I might be able to help," said Harry suddenly.

"Yeah?" Ron asked. "How?"

"One of the things that Hugin and Munin taught me," Harry replied.

"But they're Aliset's ravens," Ron said. "Wouldn't they have taught her the same thing?"

"Probably," Harry admitted. "But in that case, I don't know why she hasn't tried it. It's supposed to always work."

The two of them threaded their way through the halls. They had Care of Magical Creatures next. Merlin only knew what Hagrid would have them studying this week. Last week, it had been Billywigs. One sting made you giddy and levitate. Neville had gotten stung, and it was only a lucky grab by Hagrid that kept Neville from floating out of sight.

"Maybe it doesn't. Or maybe it's only for certain kinds of seeing," Ron countered. "I mean, Aliset ought to be an expert on this, don't you think?"

"Why should she be?" Harry said, a little irritably. "She's a natural talent, I'll give you that. But spending six years locked up by Karkaroff probably didn't teach her all that much. He wouldn't want her to know any ways of getting out from his control, would he? I mean, it was only because of the - " He broke off suddenly.

"What? It was only because of the what?" Ron asked, impatient.

Harry looked troubled. "Aliset said her ravens kept her from seeing anything really useful to Karkaroff. That's why she got away before Voldemort came. The ravens had kept her from seeing it, so she wouldn't be forced to tell Karkaroff, but then they told her themselves just before he arrived so she could get away in time."

Ron was skeptical. "Why would they be blocking her now?"

Harry could only shrug. "Think we oughta mention it?"

"Yeah," said Ron. But he didn't seem very enthusiastic.

***

Aliset looked around the Headmaster's office in awe. It was a very beautiful room, and there were many lovely and interesting things that she longed to touch and didn't dare. There was also an empty perch by the fireplace, but whatever usually sat there was nowhere in sight.

"Ah, my dear," said Dumbledore, emerging from his chat with Sirius. "Professor Black has kindly filled me in on what you told him this afternoon." He sat down at his desk, across from her, and peered at her over his spectacles. "Now, what seems to be the trouble?"

Starting to speak, Aliset discovered that her mouth was very dry and that she had no idea what to say. "Um. I've always been able to see the future. And now I can't," she said, a little helplessly.

"I see," said Dumbledore slowly. "While this ability of yours has certainly brought you much grief, it is surely disconcerting to lose something that has always been part of yourself."

Aliset mentally replayed what he had said to make sure she understood it. Then she nodded. "Is there something wrong with me, Professor?" she asked, very quietly.

Dumbledore smiled kindly. "I doubt it, my dear. Adolescence is a notoriously unstable time, affecting every aspect of a person, including their magical abilities. I believe that this missing part of your talent will return." He looked at her very seriously. "Do you want it to?"

Aliset looked and felt a little blank. Well, of course she wanted it back. Didn't she?

***

At lunch time, Ron caught up with Aliset, who was sitting at the end of the Ravenclaw table. "Hi, um, do you want to sit with us at the Gryffindor table?"

Aliset glanced at her housemates, and they waved her off. "Yeah, okay."

As they walked over to the Gryffindor table, Ron said, "I asked Professor Trelawney about your problem." When he saw her face tighten, he hastily added, "I didn't use your name or talk about you. I just asked if there were ways that seeing could be blocked. So she told us. Here." He handed her a piece of folded parchment. "I wrote them down for you."

Aliset broke into a smile and she hugged Ron a little awkwardly around the shoulders. "Thank you," she said. "You are so sweet!"

Ron blushed a little. "Well, you seemed upset and I had Divination, and I just thought that... Oh, nevermind. I was just trying to help."

Harry arrived and sat down across from Ron. "Hey, Ron. Oh, hi, Aliset." His eyes flicked between the two of them, settling on Ron. "Did you tell her what we learned in Divination?"

"I just gave her the parchment. It was easier," Ron replied. He turned to Aliset and smiled. "It was a good thing I wrote them down. I couldn't remember them if I wanted to."

"I'll copy it for you," Aliset said, patting her bag, presumably where the parchment was.

Harry cast a slightly questioning glance at Ron, whose nod was barely perceptible, then said, "Is it possible that Hugin and Munin are blocking you?"

She started to deny it, then decided it was possible. Maybe even likely. For the first time since she had noticed that something was missing, she felt a surge of hope. Of course the ravens were blocking her - they had only heard her complain about it often enough. They just wanted to make school easier for her. Embarrassed at how she had gone on so, crying at Ron and confessing to Dumbledore, Aliset had to laugh at herself. It was so simple!

Ron and Harry watched in confusion as Aliset started laughing.

***

Later that evening, when classes were done but there was still an hour or so till dinner, Ginny, feeling like an idiot, went out to the Quidditch pitch.

Great. Fabulous, Ginny thought, looking around in disgust. He's not even here. This is a stupid trick - he'll have his cronies jump out and scare me, take a picture and...

"I thought maybe you wouldn't come," said Draco behind her, looking puzzled when she spun around to face him.

"Yeah, well, I'm here," Ginny said, mentally kicking herself for it. "Um, what did you need to talk about?" It was getting dark and she was all alone with an older boy. One that did not exactly have the best reputation. Ginny began to feel a little nervous, and very foolish.

Draco sat down on the grass. "I have a dilemma."

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Yeah? One of those big monsters with horns - "

"No," Draco interrupted, looking mildly annoyed. "One of those big problems."

He didn't sound half as nasty as he usually did, Ginny realized. And, for him anyway, he was being awfully patient with her. I will stop with the smart remarks, she told herself sternly. "Okay, so what's the problem?"

"Well, I've seen my future and I'm going to kill Harry Potter," Draco said, sounding a little fatalistic. He was also staring at the grass, which was why he looked up too late as Ginny lunged at him.

She grabbed him by the collar and began shaking him back and forth. "That's your idea of a problem?" she said shrilly. "What do you mean, you're going to kill Harry?"

Draco disengaged her hands from his clothing. "You aren't taking this very well. I thought you might understand, but..." He started to stand, but Ginny caught his sleeve. She wasn't grabbing it, he could tear away if he wanted to, but instead he sat back down.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "But, you have to admit, that was not necessarily the best follow-up to 'I have a problem.'"

"Hm. No, possibly not," Draco said.

Ginny restrained the urge to roll her eyes. How does he always manage to not apoligize or admit he's wrong? she thought, half in admiration and half in disgust. He's not rude about it. Just...vague. Outloud, all she said was, "How about starting from the beginning?"

So he did. He told her about trying to get Aliset to go to the ball with him (and Ginny had to bite her tongue to keep from telling him what she thought of his behaviour), and Aliset smacking him in the mouth. Draco told her that he had tasted Aliset's blood and that as soon as he did, the visions came: His ancestors, up to their elbows in blood; his father working on Pettigrew to convince him to turn traitor; Draco himself, a spoiled bully. And then the future, in which: Harry kills Voldemort, Draco kills Harry, and then Draco is executed by a courtroom full of witches and wizards.

He told the story simply, without emotion, embellishments or even much detail. Ginny rather thought that this was the only way he could tell it without screaming or running off.

***

Draco congratulated himself on not making a spectacle of himself. There was no way that mere words could convey the fear and confusion that had haunted him the last few weeks. One minute, he thought the whole thing was a hallucination brought on by the bump on the head, and therefore nothing to worry about. The next, he was ready to break down into tears, a despicable thing for a Malfoy. His emotions flipped constantly between anger, terror and despair. Even the other Slytherins had started noticing that he was more touchy and moody than usual. And he hadn't been able to work up a good sneer or taunt for days... as though any extra nastiness added to his record would tip him irrevocably onto the path of certain death.

So, now he found himself chatting with a Weasley. How sorry could he get? It had seemed like a good idea at the time: she was reasonably intelligent, not bad looking and had been there when he embarrassed himself so badly waking up from the visions. If nothing else, there would be less to explain and he could gloss over the whole clutching-at-hems bit.

They had both been quiet for awhile after he was done speaking. Finally, Ginny looked at him. "Are you sure that this is for real?" she asked.

"Aliset said it was," Draco said, his voice very brittle on her name.

"What are you going to do?"

Draco was picking at the grass, making a little pile of it next to a small patch of denuded earth. "If I kill Potter, then I get killed. I don't want to die. Therefore, I should not kill Potter."

"Sounds simple enough," Ginny said. "So what's the problem?"

"If I don't want to kill Potter, then I should not support Voldemort," Draco said.

"Is 'do you want to kill Harry Potter?' on the Death Eater entrance exam or something?" Ginny asked.

Draco looked at her. She was very clever and, now that he was sitting very close to her, prettier than he had thought. She was also very nervous. Not that he blamed her. He did have a certain reputation, but that sort of thing did not extend to anyone with red hair, was in Gryffindorm or with the surname 'Weasley', so she was perfectly safe. But she really was awfully pretty. How many times had he thought that now? Then he realized that she had said something, so he ought to offer a response.

"Don't be silly," he said. That seemed a good all-purpose response. "So, to recap: If I don't want to die, I shouldn't kill Potter. If I shouldn't kill Potter, I shouldn't support Voldemort." He shrugged. "Lately, I haven't felt very much like supporting him anyway. I'm starting to think this whole Dark-Lord-and-his-Death-Eaters business is very stupid and doomed to fail. Again, what I saw offers supporting evidence: Voldemort bites the dust, Death Eaters lose and go to prison. Or get executed." He glared at her. "I suppose that makes you happy."

"Of course," Ginny replied coolly. "Some of my best friends are half-bloods or less. So I never understood the point of view that said they should all be cursed to death. And I agree. The whole Dark Lord and Death Eaters bit is very stupid. I'm glad you've come to realize that."

Draco felt a little surprised. Growing up in a house that was more or less devoted to Voldemort and the Dark Arts, admitting that supporting You-Know-Who might not be the best thought-out plan was very difficult for him. That a Weasley, whom he had always been taught were the worst sort of witches and wizards in the world, would readily think that Voldemort's followers might be misguided... okay, that they were probably wrong... was a bit of a shock. He had always thought others were jealous. The Malfoys would be the rulers once more... but maybe everyone else had known instinctively what he was coming to learn: Voldemort would never be allowed victory.

"Draco?" said a voice. His eyes refocused, and he saw Ginny peering at him in concern.

"Oh. Yes. Um." He cleared his throat. "If I stop supporting Voldemort, then my father is going to be very, very unhappy. He'll probably be difficult."

"Would he let you stop?" Ginny asked, an odd note coming into her voice. "Or will he beat you and curse you for defying him? Lock you into the dungeons, where you spent your childhood whenever you were disobedient, befriending rats and spiders..."

Draco listened, watching her through narrowed eyes, as she continued in this vein for some time. The gist of it was that he, Draco, was a potentially nice guy, were it not for his abusive, manipulative father. Ha.

He let her wind down, then fixed her with another glare. "For your information, Weasley, my parents both love me very much and I am quite fond of them. My father has never so much as locked me in my four-room suite. I admit that his behaviour is some what abrasive to people outside the family, but I assure you, within it we are very close." He gave her a look of sheer exasperation. "Where did you come up with all that rubbish?"

Ginny blushed, although it was hard to tell in the darkness. "That was one of the theories on why you're so mean. And yet so..." She shook her head. "So, anyway, if you and your dad are that close, why don't you say, 'Hey dad, I've been thinking and this Voldemort thing is just not going to work out. I have it on good authority that he's going down. So, maybe we should bail out while we still can?'"

Draco was trying not to laugh. The situation was far from amusing, but he found he was enjoying bantering with this girl. "My father has invested the last twenty-five years of his life to the Dark Arts and to Voldemort. There is no chance that he would believe me when I told him that Voldemort would fail. What he would believe is that his only child and heir, me, was losing his courage, and possibly his mind."

"No, Miss Weasley," Draco went on, tilting his head back and gazing at the stars. "I am well and truly buggered."

They sat awhile longer, each lost in their own thoughts. When he noticed Ginny shiver, he threw the edge of his cloak over her. As they sat companionably in the darkness, Draco realized he was a lot warmer now.

"Why me?" said Ginny softly. "Why come to me with all this?"

"Why not?" Draco replied. "You were there when I woke up."

***

Dear Draco,

I understand that you are planning to come home to us at Christmas, rather than attending the Yule Ball. This is, of course, your prerogative; although I must say that when I was your age, I would never have dreamed of missing it. But, you are, of course, always your own person.

I am also aware of a new student at your school; a girl from Durmstrang, which is quite unusual, and I confess myself highly curious. As she is a former student of Karkaroff (whom, as you know, I always disliked intensely, although I wouldn't think of holding it against the girl), I believe we ought to do our best to show her the charms of British wizards. You had also mentioned in your last letter that you were endevouring to make her acquaintance, (if she is the reason you are not attending the Ball, then I apologize for broaching a painful subject. However, a mere girl is no excuse to shirk your responsibilities as a representative of the Malfoy family. I leave this up to your conscience.) I think it would be social if you invited her to dinner the day before Christmas. I would be very pleased to entertain her at the Three Broomsticks, as I understand that as always been the 'hang out' of Hogwarts students. It certainly was in my day.

If, as I surmise, she is the reason for you wishing to come home at Christmas, then again, forgive me for mentioning it. I must tell you, though, that there are ways to get around a woman's reticence. Certainly a Christmas gift, either to woo or to show willing to let bygones be bygones, would not be amiss. Let me know if I might suggest anything.

Do write back with your reply, soon. If I am to put entertainment plans into motion, then it is always better to have advanced warning. Perhaps she would like to visit the Manor over the holidays? It is up to you, my son.

Sincerely,

Your father,

Lucius Malfoy