Where the Wild Things Are

"Well, obviously it doesn't mean that much to you, does it, Ron?"

"No! It doesn't! Why should it, Hermione? It's just a stupid test!"

"It's not just a test, it's important! It could affect the rest of our careers!"

"Well, fine, if it's so important to you then go study by yourself!"

"Fine, I will!"

"Fine!"

"FINE!"

Thus had been the drama for the past two months. Harry sighed and shifted uncomfortably in his chair, trying to focus on the words in front of him. Hermione and Ron had always squabbled, but recently it had become the unrelenting norm. Last night Ginny had said that one day the fight would end with Hermione either kissing Ron or smacking him clear across the room, and it was anyone's guess which would happen first. Hermione had glared, and Ron had gone redder than his hair, and Ginny and Harry had vacated the table to go study by the common room fire where, as Ginny said, they wouldn't have to hear the raging hormones in action. It was much the same tonight. Ron and Hermione were sitting at the table, bickering about Potions homework, and Harry, Ginny and Dean were sitting by the fire with their books spread out on the floor.

After a moment of quiet Ron plopped down in the armchair next to Harry, muttering something about 'bloody women...' He broke open a package of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans and began moodily sorting through them.

"Something wrong, Ron?" Ginny asked, grinning sideways at Harry.

"No." he said sullenly, reaching for his textbook. "Harry, what have you got written for Snape's essay? Hermione won't let me copy off her."

"I should think not," said Ginny, "How are you ever going to learn if you just copy off people all the time? And anyway, you're a prefect. What kind of example are you setting for the first years?"

"Oh bugger off, Gin. Who asked you?"

Harry glanced back at Hermione where she sat staring insistently at her textbook, though Harry noted that her eyes weren't moving at all. Trying not to look too guilty, he slipped Ron his parchment and turned his attention back to A History of Dark Creatures.

'The British Fae, similar to the Polynesian Menehune, are dangerous and full of mischief. Also, like the Menehune, the Fae fear all owls. The owl-god, Paupueo, sends his owl servants to chase the Fae into the forests when they become too mischievous.'

"Ginny, have you seen my Herbology textbook?" Ron asked.

"No. Did you leave it with Hermione?"

'A common practice of the Fae's in earlier centuries was to steal muggle children and replace them with a changeling child of their own.'

"No!" Ginny said, "Go over there and get it yourself, Ron. I'm trying to study. Snape is testing us on advanced antidotes tomorrow, and I really think he's going to poison at least one of us..."

Harry rubbed his eyes and tried to focus. It was extremely comfortable in the squashy chair in front of the warm fire, and he could feel his eyelids drooping.

'The Fae, while not malicious by nature, can be very dangerous. In 1944 the Fae joined forces with the dark wizard Grindelwald and caused much damage to both the magical and muggle communities. They later abandoned him and his followers and joined Albus Dumbledore when the dark wizard tortured one their clan with...'

Harry opened his eyes and looked around the room. Everyone was gone now, and he wondered vaguely that neither Ron nor Hermione had woken him up when they went up to bed. Looking around though, he realised he was not, in fact, in the Gryffindor common room. The walls, rather than stone, were olive green, and covered in old, faded tapestries. On the far wall was a large tapestry that read "The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black". Harry swallowed against the lump that was forming in his throat. He was in Sirius's drawing room. Harry turned around to survey the room, and realised with a start that he was not alone. In front of him stood two figures who were looking at him expectantly; a tall, thin, heavy-lidded woman, who Harry recognised with a jolt as Bellatrix, was kneeling on the floor. Behind her stood a slim form covered in a dark, midnight blue cloak.

'I understand that you have the ability to Read?' came, from his own throat, a cold, high-pitched voice that Harry knew all too well.

Well now, that's odd. Harry thought. Ever since the events in the Department of Mysteries, Harry had practiced Occlumency almost religiously, making sure to empty his mind of thought and emotion each night before sleeping. His invasions of Voldemort's consciousness became more and more infrequent, and then ceased all together. True, this past week he had been a bit lax about practicing, as studying had generally kept him up until he passed out on his books, but he hardly expected the dreams to start up again so quickly.

'Yes, that is true,' the cloaked figure replied, and lowered her hood. A long mane of dark hair fell to her waist. Her face, half obscured by shadows and flickering firelight, was a haunting mix of age and youth. 'You have need of this ability?'

'I do,' Harry heard Voldemort say slowly, 'Yes, I have a need for several of your abilities. I understand your people have assisted in our cause before.'

'That is true...'

'If I recall the incident correctly, they fled to join the ranks of the adversary.' Harry could feel Voldemort's suspicion. 'If I did recruit your assistance in this venture, I would require you to give your word that such a thing would not happen again.'

The girl stood in silence, surveying the Dark Lord. After a long moment she let out a soft laugh. The fire flickered and a frosty breeze that smelled faintly of blood, strawberries and damp moss filled the room.

'You know very well the inclinations and motivations of my people,' the girl said. 'Whether or not you wish to enlist my help is your decision, but I will make you no promise of the kind.'

Voldemort stayed silent, staring into the fire. After several minutes, the girl smiled and put her hood back up.

'Do what seems best to you. You know how to contact me, should you-,' she cut off abruptly and cocked her head to the side. She stared intensely at Voldemort, her eyes boring into him. Harry could feel Voldemort shift, and was surprised to realize that Voldemort was somehow unnerved by her insistent and unrelenting gaze. After what seemed like an eternity, her gaze shifted. Not from one side to another, but from outside to inside. A shiver suddenly ran down Harry's spine, and he recognised with sudden jolt of horror and panic that she could see him. Staring into Voldemort's eyes, she could see him, Harry, and she knew who he was. It felt as though she were looking straight through him to the wall behind, and could see everything in between. His thoughts, his feelings, his memories, his knowledge. Snape had told him once that the mind was not a book to be opened and read, but here was this stranger, reading every line, every word...

Harry tried to back away, but couldn't. He searched desperately for some way of escape, but how can you escape from a dream? Wake up, he told himself sternly. Wake up!

'Well now,' she whispered. Harry reluctantly met her gaze. She had pulled back somehow, and was no longer looking into him, but at him. She stared at him for several minutes, her eyebrows raised in surprise. She then looked, from Harry to Voldemort, somehow able to distinguish between them. 'Yes, that is interesting...'

A smile crept across her lips. She raised her hand in a small, almost coy wave. 'Be seeing you...'

Harry felt a jolt of realisation from Voldemort, and felt as though he were being shoved violently across the room.

'GET OUT!'

Harry's eyes flashed open and he sat bolt upright in his chair by the fire.

"Harry?" inquired Ginny. "Harry, are you alright?"

Harry looked around the room, trying to shake off the feeling of extreme cold that he had awoken with. He glanced at Ron, who was staring at him, a Bertie Botts Bean halfway to his mouth.

"I don't..." Harry muttered. "I mean, yeah. Yeah, I think so."

Hermione stopped pretending to study and got up from the table.

"Harry, you don't look very well," she said, placing a hand on his forehead. "Well, you haven't got a fever. Still, perhaps you ought to go to bed."

"No," said Harry, "No we've got this Potions test tomorrow. I've got to study."

Hermione pursed her lips, looking torn between concern for Harry's health, and her reluctance to discourage studying. "Well... alright. But don't stay up too late. It won't do you any good to study all night if you're just going to faint away in the middle of the test anyway." She did not return to her table, but sat down on the floor with Ginny and Dean and opened her Ancient Runes textbook.

Ron looked questioningly at Harry. "You sure you're all right, mate?" he asked quietly. "You looked like you were dreaming..."

Harry nodded. "I was."

"About You-Know-Who?"

He nodded again.

"Was it... you know, real?"

Harry hesitated, thinking over the things he'd seen, and the force with which he had been ejected from Voldemort's mind. "No, I don't think so," he said finally.

"I don't know Harry," began Hermione, "Maybe you should talk to Dumbledore. You know how important your dreams can be..."

Harry thought for several minutes. He was certain it had been real, but he didn't want to start a big fuss if he were wrong, or be told that it was just a normal lapse of concentration and he should be practicing Occlumency more. And what if it wasn't real? Enough damage had been done already by his rash assumptions that what he saw in his dreams was reality. No, he would not bother the Headmaster with this. If he had more disturbing dreams about strange women meeting Voldemort, he might consider it. But for now he would try to forget what he'd seen, and continue to practice emptying his mind of thought and emotion.

"No, I don't think so," he said. Hermione looked for a moment as though she might argue, but apparently thought better of it and instead bit her lip and turned back to her textbook.

* * *

Bored, Bored, Bored. Ginny sighed and scratched out the Snitch she'd been doodling on her parchment and started a new one. A tiny feeling of guilt nagged at the back of her brain, telling her she should be taking notes, or at least listening to what Professor Binns was saying. After all, she had to take her OWLs this year, she could hardly afford to zone out during class. Her words to Ron about being a good example to the first years were echoing in her head, and she fingered her own prefect badge absently. Somehow though, even with stress about her upcoming exams, she simply couldn't keep her attention focused in Binns's class. He was droning on, something about the giant wars. She glanced at the few notes she'd managed to make at the beginning of class, and decided that was good enough for today. Heck, not even Hermione could stay interested in History of Magic.

She looked instead at the blank piece of parchment sitting in front of her. It was empty, but not for long. Oozing through the page, in black ink, came words in neat handwriting.

Hi Ginny, how's Binns today?

Ginny smiled. Dean had bought the Cunning Correspondence Parchment at Zonko's over the summer and had given it to her for her birthday. He'd said it was "like a wizarding chat room," which had gotten a blank stare from Ginny.

"Well see, muggles have this thing called the Internet, which is a sort of world all it's own, that you access through a computer..."

"What's a computer?" she'd asked.

He'd quickly given up on trying to explain chat rooms and internets, and instead explained that they could talk to each other through the piece of parchment. It was meant to allow students to write each other notes during class without passing them back and forth or, even better, to communicate with friends in other classes.

Hi Dean, she wrote, it's like the Draught of Living Death in here. How's Potions?

Could be worse. At least Malfoy's not here throwing eye of newt at the Gryffindor tables. I miss you though. I've been thinking about you all morning...

Ginny smiled and dipped her quill into her inkpot, hesitating a moment before writing, I miss you too. I have to go now though; I'll see you at lunch. She then folded up the parchment and stuck it in her bag. She shifted in her chair; trying to rid herself of the guilty, almost dirty feeling she always got when she spoke to Dean through the parchment. She'd never told Dean, because he'd obviously bought the parchment out of affection for her, (and it had been very expensive,) but she'd never felt easy about using it. It had always felt uncomfortably like talking to Tom. Speaking to someone through paper, someone she couldn't see but who always told her things she wanted to hear.

She looked up at Binns, who was, as always, floating two inches off his chair and continuing his monotone explanation of the giant wars.

Ginny sighed and turned her chair slightly to afford a better view of the Quidditch pitch. It looked like the Slytherin team was practicing, which explained Dean's mention of Malfoy's absence. She suspected Snape had pulled some strings so that they could skive off classes in order practice before the game tomorrow, which Ginny thought was hardly fair. On the other hand, at least Dean and the others had a break from Malfoy. She thought she could make him out on the Pitch, his agility and grace distinguishing him from the other troll-like members of the team. He glided through the air, swooping and diving, as though there were nothing more natural. It was really very unfair that so much beauty should be wasted on such a poor excuse for a human being. She did sometimes wonder if maybe he was just jealous and lonely, that maybe if someone with a good heart cared for him, maybe he would be okay. He really was very attractive, when he wasn't constantly sneering. Perhaps it was that 'dangerous' element that was always so appealing...

Ginevra Weasley, she thought, you did not just think that. You're going out with Dean. Who's wonderful.

She shook her head and instead devoted herself to examining the teams' flight patterns and formations, making a mental note to tell Harry what to expect in tomorrow's match. Montague had the Chasers performing an interesting scoring formation that would definitely take Ron off his guard. Crabbe and Goyle were, as usual, just flying around hitting bludgers at each other. They'd be lucky if they managed to avoid hitting their own players, let alone hit any of Gryffindors'. Malfoy was still flying around the pitch, presumably searching for the snitch. He really was a very good flyer. Though, Ginny thought, he would never be as good as Harry. God, how that must eat at him. To constantly lose to the one person you couldn't stand... Ginny thought about how it felt to be constantly compared to everyone. To her brothers, to her friends. She'd always felt just a little bit overshadowed. That must be how Draco felt...

Draco? Okay, that's it. No more watching Quidditch. Stop looking at him right this instant, you should be paying attention to Binns. You have your OWLs this year; you should darn well be listening to- oh that was a good dive... Wow, those green Quidditch robes make him look really se-...

Ginny had never been quite so grateful to hear bell that tolled the end of class and the beginning of lunch.

* * *

When Harry sat down at the Gryffindor table for lunch it was apparent that Ron and Hermione had come to a silent agreement to not discuss their argument (whatever this one was about.) They were sitting opposite one another, speaking extremely politely to each other and looking very studiously at their plates.

"Ron, would you please pass me a jacket potato?" Hermione asked, staring insistently at the butter.

"Sure. Here you go."

"Thank you."

Harry grinned inwardly and sat down next to Ron. "You two stopped fighting then, have you?" he asked, trying not to sound too amused.

"Oh shut it, Harry. How do you think you did on that test?"

Harry, who had been determinedly not thinking about the Potions test he'd just taken, shrugged. "Guess I'll find out. At least I didn't melt my cauldron like poor Neville. He's still cleaning up in there."

Hermione, obviously grateful for a topic of conversation that didn't involve Ron and her, passed Harry a plate of roast beef. "You know he's improved loads this year. Getting a wand of his own has made quite a difference. Though, I don't suppose a new wand will help him much in Snape's class."

"No, it won't," said Ron, "I finally got rid of Charlie's old wand in third year, and I'm still rubbish at Potions."

"Oh, Ron, you're not rubbish at Potions. If you'd only put in a little more effort-,"

"I do put in effort. Just because I'm not a genius like you-,"

"I'm not a genius, Ron, I just take the time to actually study the material. If you'd only-,"

Harry stopped listening at this point. Ginny had just come in and sat down between Dean and Hermione. There was a pink glow about her face, as though she'd run around the Quidditch pitch for half an hour.

"Hey Ginny," he said, turning away from Ron and Hermione. "You okay? You look flushed..."

Hermione stopped sniping at Ron and looked over at Ginny.

"I'm fine." She said quickly, looking away from Dean. "It was just warm in Binns' room." She looked over at Hermione. "Would you pass me the rolls?"

Hermione picked up the basket of rolls and handed them to Ginny. "How was History of Magic?"

Ginny shrugged. "Oh, you know. Big stone room filled with boredom and despair. How'd your test with Snape go?"

" 'Bout the same, really." Harry replied. "You sure you're all right?"

Ginny nodded, but refused to make eye contact with anyone at the table. "Of course I'm all right. Why wouldn't I be? I'm just hungry. Pass the potatoes, will you Ron?"

"Harry's right you know, Gin, you do look pretty flushed."

Hermione, who had been looking from Ginny, to Dean, and back to Ginny, picked up a pitcher and poured Ginny some pumpkin juice. "Oh leave off, Ron, of course she's all right. You know how warm it gets in that classroom. Remember our third year exam in there? It was stifling. I thought I'd pass out. And it's been really warm lately. I'm feeling quite warm myself, and we were in the dungeons. So, are you guys ready for the match tomorrow?"

Harry, while mildly surprised at Hermione's apparent interest, was always eager to talk about Quidditch. "Oh yeah, we're ready. Don't you think so?"

"Yeah," answered Ginny. "Though," she looked away from Harry, her ears going pink again, "I was watching the Slytherin team practice during class today-,

"So that's why Malfoy wasn't in Potions," interrupted Ron. "Slimy git. Thinks he can get away with anything, just because he's Snape's favourite. What a total tosser."

Ginny, who had been taking a sip of pumpkin juice, choked into her goblet and put it down, sputtering. "Yes, quite." She managed. "Anyway, my point is, they've got a couple of new scoring formations that might give them an early lead. Mind you, if Harry catches the Snitch as fast as he has been in practice, there shouldn't be a problem."

Harry grinned. He'd always thought of Ginny as being rather girly, but she'd turned out to be an avid Quidditch fan, and just as fun to discuss the sport with as Ron. More so, lately, as most conversations with Ron about Hogwarts Quidditch tended to be coloured with Ron's insecurity about his own keeping abilities. "Well, don't worry about it. How about we meet at the pitch a half hour early for practice tonight, and you can outline their new moves for us."

Ginny nodded in agreement. "Sure, okay. I don't think Crabbe and Goyle will pose much of a problem for Jack or Andrew, they hardly seem to be able to tell which end of the bat to hold. Did you see their practice last week? Crabbe kept hitting Montague. I've never seen Montague so mad, with maybe the exception of learning you'd been let back on the team this year."

Ron grinned. "That was classic. I don't know what they expected though. They had to know that when Dumbledore'd got rid of Umbridge, he'd let Harry play again."

"Yeah, well," put in Dean, "Slytherins aren't exactly overly-furnished in the brain department, are they?"

Harry didn't reply, noticing that Dumbledore had stood up and was motioning for quiet.

"What's up?" Ron inquired. "There's never lunch time announcements."

Harry shrugged and turned in his seat to get a better view of the head table,

"Attention, please. Now we've all been fed and watered, there's a brief announcement I'd like to make. As of this morning the final arrangements were made, and so I'm pleased to inform you that this year, for 5^th years and up, we will be holding a Career Fair. In previous years, Careers Advice consisted of various leaflets and a private discussion with one's head of house. This, while helpful to our fifth years, has hardly been adequate to sufficiently educate you on the possibilities for your careers-,"

"Yeah," Harry muttered, "especially with that old bat Umbridge sitting in and interrupting every two minutes..."

Ron and Hermione, who had heard Harry's account of his Careers Appointment, nodded appreciatively.

"However," Dumbledore continued, "after many months of preparation and coordination with various establishments, it has been possible to make a full, week-long event of it. During the first week of December we will be hosting representatives from various careers here at the school. Regular classes will be suspended for all students 5^th year and above, and our guests will all be offering many presentations in their chosen field of employment for you to attend and participate in. This is a golden opportunity for our senior students to explore the possibilities and find out as much as they can about the post-graduation options open to them. On your way out of the Great Hall, your head of house will be providing you with leaflets outlining which careers will be represented at our Fair, so you can read up on them and decide which presentations you'd like to attend. And now, I think your professors would prefer I not detain you any longer from getting to your classes."

There was a great bustle as everyone got up from their tables and headed for the Entrance Hall, where the Heads of House were standing with bundles of leaflets.

Harry took a bundle from Professor Mcgonagall and headed, with Ron and Hermione, outside to Care of Magical Creatures.

"Hmm," said Hermione, who was eagerly flipping through one of the leaflets. "Ron, did you know Bill and Charlie were coming for the Career Fair?"

"What?" Said Ron, pulling the leaflet out of her hands. "Where?"

"Just there, see? And Bill's on the back." She pointed about halfway down the page, and Harry opened his own leaflet to see for himself. Sure enough, there was Charlie's name.

Do you love the outdoors? Are you intrigued by new and interesting creatures? Do you have a high pain tolerance? Well this could be the career for you! Working with magical creatures for several years now, and specializing in dragons, Charlie Weasley will be offering a two hour presentation, assisted by Care of Magical Creatures professor Rubeus Hagrid, on career possibilities in the exciting field of Magical Creatures.

Harry flipped the leaflet over and searched for Bill.

Do you love treasure, travelling and adventure? Then have we got the career for you! Gringotts Wizarding Bank, currently recruiting curse-breakers, is an exciting vocation for any witch or wizard not afraid to risk life and limb for thrilling adventures and substantial treasure bonuses. Successful curse-breaker Bill Weasley will be sharing his experiences abroad...

"How come they never told me about this?" Ron fumed. "I mean, this thing was supposed to be in the works for months right? You'd think they'd tell their own brother. Just like fourth year, with the Triwizard Tournament. They never tell me anything."

Ron's bad mood lasted, not only all the way through the rest of that day, but also through the following day, including their game against Slytherin. He'd been so distracted that he let in more than half of the Slytherins' goals, and Gryffindor only won because Harry caught the Snitch right from under Malfoy's nose. Ron's poor performance in the game only worsened his mood, and he didn't stop brooding until Hermione, near the end of the victory party in the common room that night, put her arm around his shoulder and said, "Oh cheer up, Ron. You did fabulously today. You're a great Keeper," and kissed him on the cheek before heading (looking slightly flushed, Harry thought) up to her dormitory.

Harry noticed that Ron spent the rest of the evening grinning in a dazed sort of way, and touching his cheek when he thought no one was looking.

* * *

"Never let a girl spend the night." Lucius said.

"Yes, Father."

"You let a girl spend the night, and the next thing you know, she'll be expecting a ring. Trust me, I know. Do what you need to with her, then get rid of her. She never spends the night."

"Yes, Father."

"To be a part of the noble Malfoy clan, there are certain codes of behaviour expected of you. I expect you to uphold the law I set down for you, to make it the rule by which you live. Make it your own law. You will never let me down."

"I'm sorry, Father. I thought-,"

"Never apologise. Never explain."

"Yes, Father."

* * *

It was freezing in the Slytherin boys' dormitories. As their dorms were in the dungeons, the windows had been enchanted to reflect the weather outside. Now, the December snow drifted silently outside.

"So? Get out." Draco picked up the flimsy satin dressing gown Pansy had worn to his dormitory and flung it over her.

"Why don't I just stay here tonight? It's not like the guys would care, they know about us. I could just-,"

"No, you couldn't. Get out."

"So, that's it, is it then?" She asked indignantly. "Wham-Bam-Thank you Ma'am?" She threw the covers off and started putting her gown on.

"Yeah, pretty much." He stretched out, taking up the full width of the bed.

Pansy snorted in disgust, tying her robe loosely in the front. "You know, Draco, you're sucking the romance out of this entire relationship."

"What romance?"

"Would it kill you to let someone in for change?"

Draco shrugged. "Nah, it'd just be boring is all."

Pansy shook her head and picked up her wand from his dressing table and headed for the door. "You know, one of these days someone's going to beat the arrogant shit right out of you, and I'm not going to do a thing to stop it."

"Ah, the sweet utterances of love..."

Pansy paused at the door and grinned at him. "I can't wait for that day, Draco Malfoy, I really can't. Someone, some day, is going to take you down. Personally? I hope it's Potter."

Draco's smile quickly faded. "Get out."

Pansy's grin widened and she started laughing as she opened the door.

"Get out, you stupid bint!" He picked up a heavy pewter bottle full of dragon's blood and threw it at her. She closed the door just in time, and it smashed against the wood, blood spilling everywhere.

Draco sighed. Fat lot that accomplished. He was usually above such petty displays of childishness. He almost never let Pansy get to him, no matter how hard she tried. Despite the several months of intimate contact they'd shared, she really hardly knew anything about him, and he preferred it that way. She did, however, very occasionally know which buttons to press. Stupid bint.

He picked up his wand from the table and crossed the room to the door where he pointed it at the mess of blood and smashed stone that he had made.

'I can't wait for that day, Draco Malfoy, I really can't.'

"Scourgify." He muttered, and the mess disappeared. He put his wand down on his bedside table and picked up his green Hogwarts robe, wrapping it around himself and crossing to the window. He picked up his book that he had left there, sat down on the window seat and opened to page 413, where he had hidden the letter he'd received at breakfast that day. It bore his father's personal seal, and he'd decided it would be a good idea to wait for privacy to read it, something he hadn't managed to get any of until now.

He broke the seal and opened the letter. The writing was his father's, as he'd expected. His father had not written to him much since he and the other Death Eaters had escaped from Azkaban three months before. Draco only received letters occasionally, to give him instructions or advice.

Draco,

Your news of this Defence club, this 'DA', that the Potter boy's organized is cause for a little, if not much, concern. It would perhaps be prudent of you to make note of their numbers, and who is involved. It is unlikely they will be anything more than a nuisance, at most, but it is wise to keep an eye on all the pieces on the playing board, even those that seem insignificant.

I am pleased to say that plans are now in motion, plans to punish those responsible for my, and my colleagues', imprisonment. I expect you will be ready to assist us in this endeavour.

Draco smiled at this. Yes. He had warned Potter that his father and the other Death Eaters would not be contained for long, and that when they were free, Potter would be punished. He so hoped that something inventive and horrifically painful was in store. That he would be there to see it.

I understand that the mudblood-lover Dumbledore has arranged for a Career Fair to take place.

That's right, remembered Draco. The Career Fair was starting tomorrow. He hadn't thought much about it, but supposed he really ought to go to at least a couple of the presentations. He couldn't very well tell his teachers 'Sorry, I don't need careers advice, Dad's already decided I'm to be a Death Eater.'

This is a golden opportunity for you, Draco.

What? He reread the sentence; unsure he'd read it properly. He hardly expected to hear anything Dumbledore had said echoed in a letter of his father's.

One of our associates will be attending, under the guise of the Fair. He will be giving a presentation for the International Magical Library Network. He is in fact in the service of our Master, and recruiting students of pureblood descent for the Dark Lord's cause. I'm sure that you will be among the first to assist him. Do all you can, spread the word. I expect to hear soon that you are in our Master's service. He has great hopes for you, Draco. I know you will never dishonour our family name.

Your Father, Lucius Malfoy

Draco put the letter back inside the book and put it down.

Plans are now in motion, plans to punish those responsible for my, and my colleagues, imprisonment... I expect you will be ready to assist us in this endeavour...

'Someone, some day, is going to take you down. Personally? I hope it's Potter.'

Oh yes. Yes, Father, I'm ready.

* * *

The talk about the Career Fair buzzed around Ginny until she thought she'd go mad from hearing of it.

"Which sessions are you going to?"

"I was thinking about the St. Mungo's one..."

"I want to go to the Quidditch one. You know Oliver Wood's presenting?"

"Really? Oh, he's so cute! He was just in Witch Weekly's most eligible wizard list..."

The talk had begun the moment Dumbledore had finished his announcement, and had only escalated since then. Now on Monday morning, the first day of the fair, the 5^th years and up could talk about nothing else.

Hermione had prattled on constantly about ambition and career paths and opportunities, ('This is a golden opportunity, Ron.') The night before the Fair began she had forced Ron and Harry to sit down with her and chart out which sessions they'd attend on which days in a complicated and colour-coded schedule. Luckily, she'd already created the schedules and all they had to do was tell her which sessions they wanted to go to.

Ginny had copied out a schedule from Hermione, as the girls in her own grade were being completely useless, choosing their sessions based on which ones their friends were attending and how cute the presenter was, rather than any particular interest in the content. It looked like Oliver Wood's session was going to well attended, as were (to Ginny's amusement and pride) Bill and Charlie's.

"What's your schedule today?" Ginny asked, leaning across the breakfast table and taking Harry's schedule from him to look it over.

"I'm going to Charlie's thing this afternoon." Harry said. "Should be good to see him again. Are you going to go?"

"Of course," she said, grinning, "What kind of supportive sister do you think I am? I assume you're going to the Auror's session this morning?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. You know Shacklebolt and Tonks are running that one?"

"Yeah I know," Ginny replied.

Dean came and sat down next to Ginny, looking decidedly grumpy.

"You okay, Dean?" Ginny asked.

Dean nodded, stifling a yawn. "Just didn't sleep much. Hermione kept most of us up in the common room another two hours after you'd gone to bed, making those stupid session schedules..."

Ginny grinned. "I think they're really helpful," she said. "Anyway, at least I'll be a bit more organized. There's so many sessions I want to see, this way I know I won't miss one."

Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I love ya, Gin, but you're just a little too Hermione-esque sometimes."

"What's that?" Hermione asked, arriving with Ron and sitting between him and Harry.

"Nothing," said Dean. "Thanks, by the way, for the chart, Hermione. It's going to be really helpful."

Hermione smiled, seemingly unaware of Dean's sarcasm. "You're welcome. It is a good system, isn't it? I thought that if everyone had a schedule..."

But Ginny had stopped listening. Draco had just entered the hall, wearing Slytherin green (the shade that brought out his eyes) and flanked, as usual, by Crabbe and Goyle. Ginny had spent the month since first watching him on the Quidditch pitch trying very hard to not notice him and ignoring the way her stomach flipped over every time someone mentioned his name or he walked into the room. He was sauntering up the aisle between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables, on the way to his own. To Ginny's utter horror he slowed to a stop right behind her.

"Hey, Potter," he said, and Ginny did her very best to not notice how close he was to her. "Got your career as a dead man all planned out? I hear Weasley's brother is doing a session on how to be dragon food. Should be perfect for you."

Harry remained deadpan. "On the other hand, the session on lame insults and lack of moral compass is right up your alley, Malfoy." Draco opened his mouth to make a retort, but noticed a group of professors on their way past the Gryffindor table, and so shut his mouth and moved on to his own table. Harry shook his head. "Git."

Ginny coughed and took a sip of juice, forcing herself to not watch Draco leave. She turned to Dean and gave him a devastating smile. "Have I kissed you yet today?"

Dean smiled, looking slightly surprised, but pleased. "I'm not sure. Maybe you should, just in case I missed it."

Ginny leaned forward and kissed him gently on the lips. His hand came up and tangled in her hair, and she closed her eyes and thought insistently of how wonderful and perfect for her Dean was. She pushed down the guilty feeling that told her she was being distinctly unfair to Dean.

Now just stop all this Malfoy nonsense. Dean is a wonderful boyfriend. And hey, there's no way that Malfoy could ever do that with his-,

"Hey, look," said Ron, "I'm trying to be easy going here and all, but you keep that up and I'm going to have to get protective and violent here."

"Yeah," said Harry, "and we are kind of eating."

Ginny pulled away and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry."

Dean grinned. "I'm not."

Ginny hit him on the arm and worked on finishing her breakfast, feeling much better. Dean was a fantastic boyfriend. What had she been thinking? She hadn't been, plain and simple.

When breakfast was over, the whole group (Ron, Hermione, Harry, Ginny and Dean) went together into Entrance hall, where a list was posted of where each session was being held. Ginny slipped her arm around Dean's waist and leaned against him, and he automatically placed his arm around her shoulder. They all waited while Hermione ducked into the crowd surrounding the list. She came back slightly breathless, her arm to her side.

"Ouch." Hermione moaned, rubbing side. "I just got elbowed in the ribs by some Slytherin 5^th year. Okay, the Auror session is being held in classroom eleven, where Firenze usually teaches. Dean, you said last night you're going to the session on Magical Commerce?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I'm meeting Seamus there. There's a representative from Diagon Alley leading it."

"Well that's being held in Professor Mcgonagall's classroom," Hermione said.

"Thanks Hermione," he said. He shifted Ginny's books in his arms, which he'd insisted on carrying from the Great Hall, and handed them back to her. "Here ya go, Gin. I'll see at lunch, okay?"

Ginny nodded, putting her books in her bag. She craned her neck and gave him a quick kiss. "See you then." She squeezed his hand, then turned and hurried to catch up with Ron, Harry and Hermione, who'd headed off to classroom eleven.

* * *

When Harry entered classroom eleven he noticed right away that it had been transformed back into a regular classroom, instead of the forest clearing it usually was when Firenze was teaching. There were already several students there, huddled together in groups of twos and threes. He was shocked to see Draco Malfoy standing, on his own, in one corner of the room. He felt a surge of pride, however, to see that the group mostly consisted of DA members.

The DA had continued to meet fairly regularly, with Dumbledore's permission, and had almost doubled in size since the Ministry had publicly acknowledged Voldemort's return.

Off to one side, (as usual), was Neville, sitting against the wall and surrounded by leaflets.

"Hi Neville," Harry called, waving him over. Neville smiled; looking relieved, and gathered up his leaflets.

"I didn't know you wanted to be an Auror, Neville," said Hermione.

Neville looked uncomfortable. "Well, I don't really. I mean, my Potions isn't nearly good enough, and neither are my Charms or Transfiguration, but Gran expected me to go. 'Cause of mum and dad..."

Harry nodded sympathetically. Neville's parents had been two of the best Aurors of their time. His grandmother had always looked down on him for not being as good a wizard as they'd been.

Ginny, who, Harry thought, looked slightly flushed, smiled at Neville encouragingly. She'd told Harry once that she'd always felt a little guilty around Neville, ever since she'd ditched him at the Yule Ball for Michael Corner. "Are you going to Professor Sprout's session on Breeding and Care of Magical Plants and Fungi?"

Neville nodded, looking slightly embarrassed. "Yeah. She 'specially asked me to come. Said she thought I was-," he faltered a little, "thought I was g-gifted."

Hermione smiled warmly at him. "Well, you're awfully good at Herbology, Neville. Anyway, it doesn't matter that you don't want to be an Auror. It'll be interesting anyway, and you can hang out with us until your Herbology session.

Neville looked relieved and stuffed all his leaflets into his bag.

"All right, everyone, let's gather over here!" Called a young woman, who Harry instantly recognised as Nymphadora Tonks. He swallowed against the lump forming in his throat, as it did so often these days. Her hair was shock-pink today, and her eyes were a strange shade of green. Perhaps it was Harry's imagination but somehow, even when she changed her appearance dramatically, she still looked like Sirius.

Next to Tonks stood Kingsley Shacklebolt; a tall, bald, black wizard dressed in Ministry robes. They both had nametags fixed to their robes, (Harry noticed that Tonks' only had her last name,) and they were smiling brightly at the, now fair-sized, group of students in the room.

"Yes, gather around everyone," said Kingsley. "Mr. Malfoy, you'll be joining us?"

Malfoy stayed where he was. "I'm good here, thanks."

Kingsley looked for a moment as though he might insist Malfoy join the group, but apparently changed his mind and turned instead to Harry. "Hello, Harry," he said brightly. "Mind closing the door, would you?"

Harry turned around and shut the door, then joined the rest, who had all taken their seats.

"Well," Tonks began, "this is the session on Auror Training, in case anyone's gotten turned around." She paused a moment, glancing at Malfoy, giving him (and anyone else) time to pipe up and say they were in the wrong place, but no one did.

"Well, you've all chosen a worthy career path, if a difficult one," Kingsley said. "It will require rigorous training, even after you've all graduated. But there is a great need for Aurors in the wizarding world, now, more than ever."

A sort of breathless silence followed this little speech, and Harry knew that everyone, with the possible exception of Malfoy, was thinking the same thing. He looked around at the members of the DA and felt another rush of pride at seeing that they, unlike the others, looked not fearful but sort of fiercely determined.

Tonks and Kingsley started off by telling them what kinds of tests they'd have to take and the sort of grades they'd need. They then went on to show everyone some old tests that they had taken, and had everyone try a few themselves.

"The test that nearly got me was Stealth and Tracking." Tonks was saying, and Harry thought for a moment that she had winked at him. "I'm dead clumsy."

"Yes, that test is rather difficult," Kingsley agreed. "I found it rough myself, and I'm excellent at Stealth. It was the Tracking that nearly got me though. I've never been good at picking up smells or footprints, or any of that."

"Smells?" asked Susan Bones, who was sitting next to Ginny.

"Yes," said Kingsley. "Many different dark creatures, and even some wizards, leave behind very distinctive smells. The dark wizard Grindelwald used to leave behind a smell like rotten eggs and cauliflower whenever he used a particularly bad bit of dark magic. The Fae leave a place smelling like damp moss and blood wherever they go. Unicorns smell quite distinctly of sugar, and you can always tell when a Grindylow's near, as they tend to smell strongly of seaweed. When studying for my own exams, I found it useful to go and experience all these different smells in context, rather than just reading about them. Now, in terms of preparing for the Stealth portion of the exam..."

But Harry had stopped listening. Something Kingsley had said had triggered something in his mind, like a strong sense of déjà vu. He felt like he was on the brink of knowing something, or remembering something. Something important. What had he said? Something about experiencing smells. No, not that, something else. What was it? Unicorns, sugar, Grindylows, Grindelwald... Yes, Grindelwald, something about the dark wizard Grindelwald. He smelled like rotten eggs. No, that wasn't it. But it did have to do with Grindelwald.

"Now, as to Charms requirements," Kingsley was saying. "Your performance in your NEWTS is very important, and you'll need top grades..."

Harry closed his eyes, trying desperately to shut out Kingsley's voice and remember what it was that was so important. Something Kingsley had said had triggered it, the feeling of almost knowing. What had he said? Grindelwald, and dark magic, and then something about unicorns. No, there was something before that. Smells, and seaweed and moss. Moss... 'Damp moss and blood'. In Harry's dream, a month ago, he had smelt that smell. But no, that smell had been different. Sweeter somehow, and colder. But it had definitely been close. And someone had said something about Grindelwald. Or had that been something he'd read?

"All right everyone, let's get up and try some of this magic now," Tonks was saying, and everyone was getting up from their seats. Harry gritted his teeth in frustration. The feeling was gone. He'd almost had it; it had been right on the edge, just beyond his reach. He was sure, if he'd just had several moments of quiet in which to think, he could have gotten it. But now it was gone, completely, and he could hardly think what it was he was trying to remember. He sighed and got up from his seat, going to stand with Ron and Hermione.

They spent the rest of the session trying NEWT level magic that they would need to master, and Harry was satisfied to see most of the DA already knew a good deal of the magic being taught them, and caught on fast to the magic they didn't. When the session ended and they all headed to lunch, all the members of the DA were chatting enthusiastically about their ambitions to be Aurors, and even Neville felt better.

"I can't wait to tell Gran about my Patronus!" he said happily.

Harry was quiet. Like all of them, he had been inspired by the session, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd missed something important, like he'd forgotten his textbook before class, or left his wand someplace. But what had affected him most was seeing Tonks, Sirius's cousin... Now his ambitions to fight the Dark Side had been cemented into an almost violent resolve. For months the image of Sirius tumbling through the Archway had played, like a movie reel, over and over in his head. He had sworn that he would fight, and win, against Voldemort and his Death Eaters, against Bellatrix, if only to avenge Sirius.

Kingsley was right. Now, more than ever, they needed to fight.

He could still hear Bellatrix's voice in his head.

'I thought you were here to avenge my dear cousin... Did you love him, Potter? You need to really want to cause pain, to enjoy it...'

Now, more than ever.

REFERENCES:

1) "Big stone room filled with boredom and despair" -Buffy

2) "Slytherins aren't exactly overly furnished in the brain department." -Blackadder