Krum Do I Love?

Krum Do I Love? - Chapter 3

Branded

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Harry ran up the dormitory stairs two steps at a time. He was wet, he was cold, and he was afraid that if he didn’t take his robes off quickly, someone would be able to use him as a snowball.

He stripped down to his wet cold boxer shorts, throwing his robes recklessly in the middle of the room. He took his forest-green dress-robes with him and went to the shower. The hot water that poured down on him tingled at his toes. He felt his body gradually defrost, starting at the tips of his fingers and toes and moving inwards. He let the hot water run freely on his body, emptying his mind of any thought.

A strange feeling in his forearm made Harry snap out of his untamed delight. Abruptly, he was reminded of the dream he had had the night before. The pain in his arm was now more vivid, but in some odd way, it felt like it was always there. He brought it up to his eyes and was troubled to see that the red mark that had appeared on his arm during the night was now back. But it was no longer a shapeless red blotch. Vermilion lines contoured against his skin, forming the shape of an oval, with something long coiling out of its lower side.

The mark looked shockingly familiar to Harry, but this couldn’t have been. He rubbed it with intensity under the running hot water and looked at it again. The contour was gone. It probably only existed in his imagination. There was just a red mark on his arm - a somewhat lopsided oval. Just an insect-bite, nothing more to it. If it didn’t go away by the next day, he’d ask Madam Pomfrey for a lotion to cure it.

Pushing the bugging stain away from his thoughts, Harry put on his dress-robes. He stood in front of the mirror and tried to put some order in his stubborn hair.

"It’s useless, son," said the mirror. "Nothing but magic would help it."

"I don’t use magic to look good," Harry said, irritated. He left the showers room with his hair still looking like it had just gone under a not-very-well-coordinated lawnmower.

Harry felt under his hair for his scar. It was perfectly normal. No pain, no throbbing, nothing was wrong with it. He ordered himself to relax. A little skin infection never killed anyone.

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The Gryffindor common room was filled with boys in fine dress robes. The girls where nowhere to be seen. This was the way the world had always worked. No matter if you are a wizard or a Muggle, as long as you were a male, you would always wait for your date. Tensing, not knowing if something had happened to her, or if she had just come to her senses and had decided not to go with you after all.

Ron went outside to meet Padma, leaving Harry to wait for Ginny in the common room. For an unexplainable reason, Ron was just as nervous as the rest of the boys. He explained it to himself by not wanting to go to the ball alone. At least he had reasonable dress robes Fred and George got him last year. The robes were a tad too small for him now, but it wasn’t very obvious.

Padma wasn’t there yet. Krum, on the other hand, stood beside the portrait hole, his face wrinkled with unconcealed strain. Ron spent his wait glaring at him. He still didn’t like the idea that the twenty-year-old Durmstrang alumni took his best friend to the ball, even if he did use to be his favourite Quidditch player. That didn’t give him the right to take advantage of his status to seduce young girls. Or was that what he was doing? Hermione didn’t care much for Quidditch. She was smart, she usually could take care of herself. She was also very pretty, and he was nowhere near as good-looking as she was. What was she doing with him? She would have been better off with Ron, but she wasn’t interested in him. Best-friends and all...

Padma’s arrival broke his train of thoughts. She was wearing, as usual, marvellous bright turquoise robes. She knew why she stuck with that colour. It matched her dark eyes and black hair perfectly. She looked like a designer jewel, only larger.

"Where’s Parvati?" She asked Ron with no preliminary greeting.

Ron wasn’t impressed or insulted by her direct approach. "She wasn’t down when I came out. Do you want to wait for her a while longer?"

Padma looked from Ron to Krum with boredom. "Yes, I guess we should." She leaned one shoulder against the wall, folded her arms, and looked ready for a long silent wait.

Ron sighed, and then did the same.

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Harry spent the wait trying to help Neville undo a muscles growing charm he had put on himself. He wanted just to make his dress robes look less like they were hanging on him, and more like they were actually worn, but he overdid it. He looked a lot like a squashed down model of Mr World. Harry felt that it was time well spent, because even though he wasn’t able to help Neville, he gained a light start for the evening.

A red head was barely visible above the masses coming down from the girls’ dormitories. Harry smiled. Only one girl in Gryffindor had such wonderful red hair. His girl. Ginny. He suddenly felt very proud to be going with her to the Ball. She was definitely the brightest, bravest, prettiest girl in Gryffindor, and thus, in the entire school. Except maybe Hermione, but Hermione wasn’t exactly a ‘girl’, was she?

Harry pushed through the crowds and gently grabbed Ginny by the arm. She smiled at him and tried to lead the way to the portrait hole, but he stopped her.

"I have something for you," he whispered in her ear. He stirred her towards the large mirror hanging on the opposite wall from the hearth.

"Aren’t you a handsome couple!" chirped the mirror.

"Wait till you see this," Harry said, not knowing if he told that to Ginny or to the mirror. He positioned Ginny in front of the mirror, and stood right behind her, looking at their reflection. They did make a handsome couple. Her blood-red robes looked perfect with his green. He concentrated, pointed his wand to her hair and said, "niteo capillus," just the way he had practiced it.

Immediately, Ginny’s hair was lit up with the light of a thousand fairies. It didn’t make her red hair look like it was just on fire. The effect was extremely impressive. It looked like tiny fires were entwined into her hair the same way due droplets were trapped in soft grass. Her whole face was lit up with deep carmine light. Her blue eyes sparkled like beads in the see of red.

"It’s beautiful!" Ginny breathed. She leaned her head against Harry’s chest, but did not take her eyes off the mirror. Harry held both her shoulders in his hands and looked critically at the result. She was beautiful, but there was something missing. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

As they looked in the mirror, they could see someone coming from behind them. Harry turned around to face Hermione. She was wearing light lilac floaty robes that were hovering around her, fitting her body, and then moving away. Harry was sure he missed a heartbeat. With a pang, he realised what was wrong with the spell he had put on Ginny - she just didn’t look like Hermione.

"Oh!" Hermione called with admiration. "I see that you were able to master the spell after all! Ginny, you’re beautiful!" There was no artificial flattery in Hermione’s voice. She was really impressed with the way Ginny looked.

Ginny scanned Hermione. It always amazed her how different she looked with her hair pulled backwards. If it were she, she’d always arrange her hair like that. She had told this to Hermione more than once. Harry’s reaction to Hermione made her feel like an unexpected Bludger caught her in the stomach, but she gave him a well-practiced smile.

"Your dress is amazing," Ginny told Hermione. "Where do you get these amazing cloths?"

Hermione blushed slightly, the colour of her cheeks transcending the light pink of the dress. "This is just silk with a few mild levitation charms," she answered.

Ginny opened her eyes wide. "You mean you charmed the dress?"

Hermione nodded, a timid smile on her lips. "Always have," she said sheepishly. "Third year in a row. If you want, I can charm your dress as well, but I don’t think it’s such a good idea."

"Why not?" asked Ginny, looking down on her heavy robes, flowing in red waved around her.

Hermione kept a strait face. "Well, with this hair, if your dress is also charmed, boys are going to drop around you like flies. You’re going to be declared a health hazard." She smiled broadly, and Harry couldn’t hold back the thought that passed through his head many times in the past two years.

"You really owe Malfoy a lot," he said without thinking.

"What?" both Hermione and Ginny said together.

"The teeth," explained Harry. There was no way to take his words back now. "You got them straightened thanks to him. This is so much better." He made a small gesture with his hand towards her teeth.

"Oh, right," Hermione smiled, letting her teeth show with all their splendour. She blushed again, and turned her head aside. "Well, I think Viktor is waiting for me outside," she said, and hurried out.

Ginny took another pleased look in the mirror, gave Harry a thankful kiss on the cheek, and was ready to leave too. Harry didn’t feel like going out right after Hermione. He’d rather let her reunion with Krum be over before he saw them. Their reunions were too steamy for his stomach. They made it turn over, and gave him a general sick feeling. He didn’t want that now. Instead, he held Ginny, spreading delicate kisses over the top of her head, taking handfuls of her sparkling hair, sniffing and kissing it. This filled him with warmth. He always loved the smell of her hair.

When they finally went out through the portrait hole, Krum and Hermione must have finished kissing, because the corridor outside was completely empty. They made their way towards the Great Hall, Ginny pushing Harry to move faster. In the absence of Triwizard champions, the school Prefects and head-boy and girl were expected to direct the banquet along with their dates. Ginny was afraid that they were running late, and as a Prefect, she didn’t like being late.

It turned out Ginny’s fears were in place. The Head Boy, Head Girl and all the other prefects were waiting for them along with their partners and professor McGonagall. They joined the waiting line, panting from their last burst of run.

Harry was relieved to see that Hermione was not all over Krum for a change. He glared at Malfoy, certain that father had bought his way to being a Prefect just like he had bought his son’s way into the Quidditch team. Malfoy glowered right back at him with a look that undoubtedly said, "you’re jealous."

The doors to the Great Hall were opened, and a shoal of students went through them. Several minutes later, the prefects followed McGonagall to the top table. As the two Gryffindor prefects, Ginny and Hermione had adjoined seats, with only Harry between them. Harry didn’t know if he was glad for sitting next to Hermione, or if sitting next to her and Krum made him want to cry.

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Draco wore his black velvet dress robes, and waited. There was still time until the Yule ball. Pansy wouldn’t be ready until the very last minute - he knew her. If their families weren’t this close, he would have never taken her to the ball. He held a strong dislike towards her.

Draco stood in front of the mirror in his dormitories and ran a hand through his platinum blond hair, smiling in satisfaction. Pansy was very lucky to have him as her partner. She was even luckier, because she was going to be right in the centre of events, as the partner of a Prefect. His smile broadened. There were advantages to being a Prefect. There were advantages to being a Malfoy.

He went to his dormitories to pass the time there. No way he was going to wait in the common room with the rest of the students. When it was certain that Pansy was down, he would go. The dormitories were completely abandoned, and Draco passed the time lying on his bed, thinking.

He had detailed plans for him and Pansy for tonight. True, he didn’t like her, but she was pretty, and that was what mattered. They were both over sixteen now, this was the night of the ball. This was going to be the first time for both of them. He was sure there would be no problem talking pansy into it. Actually, she was the one who tried to pressure him into a ‘mature’ relationship.

Pansy was waiting for him in the common room, prettier than ever in her frilly shocking-pink robes. She could have easily been the prettiest girl in the school if it weren’t for her patronising smile and the annoyed look she gave Draco. He smiled and extended his hand to her, knowing that she didn’t like to be the one who did the waiting.

She took his arm in a possessive gesture. Oh, yes. This is going to be a great night. Draco led her through the entrance wall, past the dungeons, and up to the Great Hall. Professor McGonagall gathered all the honoured students around her, but there was one couple missing. The horrible Weasley girl, and her famous boyfriend. They needed to be last, to make an impressive entry.

As if they could make a more impressive entrance than Viktor Krum. Of course everyone would be eyeing the world famous Quidditch hero. And he had the most beautiful girl on his arm to add to the impact. Hermione held herself like this only once a year, for the Yule ball. She took his breath away when he looked at her. He remembered that she usually looked different for the ball, but the year that had passed dulled the memory, and he was again amazed by the change in her. By the look on the faces of the other boys around, he was not the only one caught off guard.

At last, the brave couple arrived, pretending to be running. Draco ignored them. He wouldn’t give Potter the pleasure of getting his attention just because he got there last. Still, he smiled to himself. The illustrious Gryffindor seeker. The Quidditch captain. At least he wasn’t a Prefect. Draco knew that Potter was jealous of him for that.

The Slytherin prefects were right at the end of the honoured students line. That figured, since the group was led by the Gryffindor head of the house. Draco snorted when he saw Potter put on his embarrassed-by-the-crowd act again. Seriously, all the times he had everybody’s attention, he should have developed a new act by now. Draco himself strutted into the Great Hall, his chin up and his hand holding Pansy by the elbow.

The Slytherins sat at one end of the top table, while the Gryffindors were placed on the other end. Whoever made the sitting arrangements knew better than to put Slytherins next to Gryffindors. Draco didn’t know if he should have been glad for not sitting next to Potter, or saddened by the fact he wasn’t next to Hermione - next to Krum, that is.

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The food was as wonderful as ever. Harry was hungry, as he kept missing meals during the last two days - since Krum had appeared. Hermione was nowhere near Slytherins now. She was sitting next to him, and Harry felt his appetite return.

The professors were having an animated conversation, reliving the Triwizard feast from two years before. Two seats were vacant at the staff section of the table. One was Snape’s, which wasn’t a big surprise. He had gone missing for weeks at a time during the last year and a half. The other vacant seat was preserved to Madam Pomfrey, who was known to skip meal and events when she got overexcited by her work.

When the clatter of the dished subsided and the only ones who still ate were Crabbe and Goyle, Dumbledore gave everyone the key to stand up, and removed the tables, clearing the floor for the dancing. Then, he conjured the platform for the band and signalled the for it to come up. This year, they were The Charmed Oaks, who wore the same artfully torn black robes and overgrown hair, and looked to Harry as the exact duplicates of the Weird Sisters and the Role of Karma of the previous years.

Harry knew exactly what would happen now. Ginny and the other honoured students were supposed to start dancing first, which meant he was supposed to start dancing first. Two years ago, they were only four couples, and this year they were ten. This was better. Harry sighed as he rose from his chair. At least one year he was exempt from this obligation. Last year Ginny wasn’t a Prefect yet.

The music played by the Charmed Oaks was pleasant, and holding Ginny in a dance felt good. This position in the centre of the dance floor also allowed Harry to keep an eye on Hermione, to make sure Krum was not taking advantage of her. Harry began to really enjoy himself when he saw Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson stirring towards Krum and Hermione, and beginning to exchange humorous remarks with them. Both couples were having trouble coordinating their steps due to the gales of laughter.

"Would you like some punch?" Harry asked Ginny over the sound of the music.

Ginny nodded. She decided that anything would be better than dancing here with Harry, feeling his arms on her, knowing that in his mind he was holding someone else. She gave the ‘someone else’ a final disturbed look, and followed Harry off the dance area.

A long line formed in front of the punch table. Harry stood in the line, then filled up two large goblets, and turned to walk back to Ginny. As he turned, he saw Hermione coming over with Malfoy. There was no Krum around, nor was a Pansy Parkinson. Just she and Malfoy, and they were approaching the punch table exchanging amused looks, whispering to each other.

Harry offered Ginny her goblet, and stood holding his, unable to drink due to the large angry lump that blocked his throat. He glared at Hermione and Malfoy as they helped each other fill two goblets each, and then they walked away with them.

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Draco had a wonderful evening. The food was great, and the first dance with Pansy was a cheering experience. She moved as well as she looked, which made them easily the best looking couple on the dance floor. He stirred them closer to Krum and Hermione, making their light movements all the more visible next to the duck-legged flight master.

They exchanged a few casual remarks, and than Draco suggested that Krum dances one dance with Pansy. They both agreed, Krum looking less enthusiastic than polite. They carefully held each other’s hands, and started dancing in small, calculated steps.

"Are we supposed to dance too?" Draco asked Hermione as they watched their partners with each other.

Hermione did something Draco never saw her do before. She smiled a patronising smile. "I don’t think so," she said. "I’m going to get some punch."

"I’ll get some too," said Draco. He felt compelled to prove that he wasn’t abandoned alone on the dancing area.

Hermione looked at him, the smile still on her face. "If it weren’t for Viktor, you’d put a curse on me," she said bitterly.

"Me? Curse you?" said Draco artlessly. "Never!"

Hermione’s resentful smile turned into an amused grin. Draco gave her his most charming smile. If she was going to be with Krum, he might as well start being nice to her.

This was the first time Hermione saw Malfoy without a sneer. He’s rather handsome when he’s not so self-conscious, she thought. That gave her one more reason not to want to be a Slytherin. That lot always had something to be indignant about. Probably the reason why they were all so ugly.

As an act of chivalry, Draco helped Hermione fill the goblets for her and for Krum. Then, as an act of feminism, he let her help him fill up his goblets. Actually, both goblets were for Pansy. He wanted to keep a very clear head for tonight, although he didn’t mind Pansy drinking a lot.

Krum and Pansy were waiting for them at the edge of the dancing floor. They had stopped dancing, and were talking, keeping more than a comfortable distance between them. They seemed uneasy in the company of each other, and they both looked very relieved to see their partners return.

Draco couldn’t help but smile at the thought that in addition to all his virtues, Krum also had a good taste in girls. He made his smile look like it was aimed at Pansy. He handed her one goblet, and watched her while she drank. When she was done, he refilled her goblet from the liquid in his own, pretending to only give her some, but actually pouring in all his punch.

Krum and Hermione drank from each other’s goblets, their arms linked in a complicated gesture. They both giggled madly, punch flowing down their chins. Draco watched them nauseated, his imagination carrying them further than these giggles. She was like a delicate floating flower, and he resembled an introgression between a duck and a moose. So elegant on his broom, and yet so ungainly once his feet touch the ground. They really didn’t look right for each other. Draco went to get Pansy’s punch refilled.

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There was no point it trying to keep a conversation with Ron. Harry tried to talk to him, changing the subject rapidly to find something that might get Ron interested, but the tall redhead kept glaring at Hermione, Krum, Malfoy and any other Slytherin that went by.

They stood close to the punch table, as Ron insisted that this was the best position to keep an eye on things. Padma had gone to sit sulkily by her twin sister, and Ron had only his punch to refill every time Malfoy went by. On the sixth time he went spying, taking his goblet with him, Harry decided that he had had enough. He took a very cooperative Ginny to the garden gate.

Harry stopped by the exit, not really wanting to go to the coldness outside. The fairies in the garden shed their light over the rose bushes, and some of that magical light infiltrated the dark corner in which Harry and Ginny had stopped.

All the mushiness he had witnessed during the last two days had their impact on Harry. He put one hand on Ginny’s upper arm, and held the nape of her neck with his other. Her glowing hair felt like a waterfall of golden silk under his fingers. He let locks of her hair fall between his fingers, combing them away from her back.

The kiss that followed was the most natural he ever had with her. For the first time after a year together, Ginny didn’t look at him like she was spell-stricken. She just closed her eyes and purred with pure pleasure. He kissed her again, more passionately, sliding his arm from her shoulder to her back, tightening his grip on her.

Harry wanted to stay like this forever, standing by the garden door, undisturbed. The sound of the crickets was surpassed only by the pounding of their hearts, the darkness of the night only disturbed by the red glow from Ginny’s hair, and some silvery fairy light.

Harry felt Ginny melting under his touch. He supported her, but felt her weight increasingly pressing on his arms as she also stopped answering his kisses. He tried to balance both of them, but found that Ginny wasn’t responsive at all. It was as if she simply didn’t want to stand on her own two feet. He looked at her puzzled. Her eyes were closed, a blissful smile on her lips. She looked very tranquil, and very much asleep.

Harry tried to shake her a little, but she made no conscious motions. He lowered her gently to the floor, kneeling next to her. Ginny grabbed his arm and hugged it zealously, much like the way a small child hugs his teddy bear. This didn’t look like the effect of a stupefying spell, but it was worth a try. Harry released his arm from Ginny’s grip, not without effort, and took out his wand. He pointed it at her, and softly said, "Ennervate".

Nothing happened.

Panic surging into him, Harry stood up and looked around for help. The scene around him made his heart miss a beat. Everyone around was falling like heat stricken flies. Harry tried to find the cause for the general collapse, but saw nothing strange in the room.

Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen, and all the other professors were on the floor making a very scholared looking heap. He looked frantically around for Madam Pomfrey, but then remembered she wasn’t at the banquet either. She was probably back at the hospital wing. He dashed out to get her.

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The Great Hall was arranged to have many hidden corners. Hermione and Viktor found one of those, and stood there doing something they rarely did when they were alone during the past two days. They talked. They brought up memories of the Yule Ball of two years before.

Slowly, Hermione got a grasp of the importance Viktor put on that first date they had. He called it "the turning point of my life", and "the day I saw the light". This frightened her. She was, of course, very serious about their relationship, but not that serious.

As they talked, Viktor’s speak was slowly turning into something incomprehensible. Hermione wondered if his accent was becoming heavier, his words slurred, or if the problem was with her own ears. The latter seemed to be a likely possibility, as the music was becoming a blur as well.

Hermione felt so tired. All she wanted was to sleep. She knew that she shouldn’t. She knew that she needed to get out of the Great Hall first and reach her dormitories, but she simply couldn’t hold herself upright any longer. Her eyes just closed without her having any control over it. As she slumped to the floor, she felt strong arms grabbing her, and then she plunged into sweet darkness.

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The infirmary door was locked. Harry banged on it with heavy fists, but there was no answer. Out of sheer desperation, he pulled out his wand and bellowed "alohomora". The door slammed into the opposite wall with a loud crashing sound. Harry ignored it and stepped inside.

The hospital wing seemed to be deserted. Harry looked around, and suddenly spotted the nurse on the most remote bed, almost completely hidden by her overburdened desk. He approached her, covering the distance in five large strides.

"Madam Pomfrey, Get up, we need your help," he said, not really caring about waking her up with a start, but he got no reaction. He tried shaking her, but the way her body just moved from side to side with his hand indicated that she wasn’t exactly asleep.

Dread filled Harry’s heart. He feared that the worst had happened to her. He took a deep breath to relax and get his heartbeat back to normal, then, looked at her from up close. She was breathing. Good. He tried to shake her more vigorously, but to no avail.

Harry’s wand remained in his hands after he’d used it to blast the door open. He pointed it at Madam Pomfrey’s still body, and mouthed the words to end a Stupefy spell. "Ennervate," he whispered.

Madam Pomfrey’s eyes were shot open. "What happened?" she asked in a hoarse voice.

"I came here to get you to the Great Hall and found you under a Stupefying spell," Harry said hastily. "Do you know who attacked you?"

"I have no idea," answered Madam Pomfrey as she slowly heaved herself to a sitting position. "I didn’t even realise there was someone with me in the room. The last thing I remember is going over lists of potion ingredients. Did the Yule ball start already?"

"Yes," said Harry, urgency sneaking to his voice. "Over three hours ago. And now almost everyone is out cold. This is why I came here to get you."

"What do you mean ‘out cold’?" The experienced school nurse already began putting potion cordials in a small medical bag.

"One minute I was talking to Ron, and the next minute he was on the floor. When I looked around, there were only a few people standing, and they didn’t look like they were going to stay that way for much longer."

Madam Pomfrey stopped collecting the flasks momentarily. "Oh no," she said, wearing a terrified expression

"What?" erupted Harry.

"I think I know why I was attacked," she said. After a long pause, in which she opened a few of the cabinets, she added, "A lot of the Sleeping Potion missing."

Harry felt relieved. "So they’re all just sleeping," he said. "Could have been worse."

"Not really," said Madam Pomfrey sombrely. "It depends on the amount consumed. It could be deadly." She gave Harry a piercing look. "How do you feel, Harry?" She said it almost as a threat, daring him to lie.

"I’m fine," said Harry. For once, he didn’t have to lie to her when he said that. "This is the one time I don’t need your medical care." He tried a smile, but was too worried to really succeed.

Madam Pomfrey tucked a few more flasks in her bag, and rushed out. Harry followed her, his wand still in his hand. He had a feeling that whoever attacked the nurse and sent all the students and staff to sleep, could still be around. After all, the attacker had a reason behind it.

Just as they approached the Great Hall, Harry saw a shadow move beside the open castle doors. "Go on, I’ll catch up," Harry whispered to Madam Pomfrey. He stalked after the moving shadow, following it outside the castle doors.

Madam Pomfrey watched him with a worried frown, and then opened the doors to the Great Hall. There was nothing she could do help Harry, but there were dozens of other students in need for her. Too easily this boy rushed into unknown danger, never stopping to think. How many times had she treated him for his injuries in the fight against the Dark Forces? How many times had she told him to be more careful, to stop to consider before he got into battle? How many times the fact that he didn’t take this advice had saved he wizarding world? She smiled bitterly and entered the Great Hall. She hoped that the next time she saw him he would still be within the reach of her aid.

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The shadowy image was getting quickly away from the castle, scurrying towards the Forbidden Forest. Harry hastily launched after it, gaining on it with little effort.

The closer he got, the more intimidating the chased figure had seemed. It was someone very large, wearing a stealth black cloak with the hood pulled up. The reason Harry had no trouble catching up with it was that whoever it was, carried something that was obviously very heavy.

Concentrated on overtaking the hooded figure, Harry paid no more heed to keeping quiet. At the edge of the Forbidden Forest, when Harry nearly reached him, the hooded giant stopped, put down the burden, and turned to face his chaser.

Harry couldn’t see the face beneath the hood, but he caught a glimpse of the enormous hand coming out of the ample sleeve of the cloak. He didn’t even have a chance to break his run before the wand that hand was holding lashed an ugly green flare at him. With his Quidditch-acquired instincts, Harry rolled on the ground, dodging the curse.

The green light hit the snow inches away from Harry’s head, digging a large crater in it. Harry jumped into that very crater to steer clear off the second curse that was hurtled upon him.

The second curse crashed to the ground, sending clods of mud mixed with snow to every direction. Harry stood up in the crater holding his wand high above his head. He was only visible from his shoulders up, showing a black head covered with mud, and very dirty dress robes that were once forest-green and were now forest-mire. Putting in every bit of strength he could muster, he howled, "expelliarmus".

The wand flew away from the gigantic fist of the assailer. Harry leaped out of the crater while launching a stupefying spell at his hooded foe. With one amble leap that didn’t fit the figure’s dimensions, it was gone into the Forbidden Forest, leaving behind whatever it was carrying.

Harry rushed towards the abandoned object. It was a shallow stone basin with odd symbols and runes carved around the rim. Silver light was coming from inside the basin, originating from the silvery swirling substance in it. Harry recognised it. It was Dumbledore’s Pensieve.

Harry’s heart told him to chase after the intruder who had stolen the Pensieve, but his brain stopped him. He decided to take the Pensieve back to Dumbledore, and then see about the escaped thief.

wondering why the thief didn’t use a levitation charm to take the Pensieve, Harry levitated it, and began striding towards the castle. Very quickly he learned why the giant had preferred to use his physical strength to carry his loot instead of using magic. Harry’s wand began shaking uncontrollably, making first his hand, and then his entire body vibrate with it.

There was no use trying to put the vibrations under control. Harry stopped, and let the Pensieve rest on the snow. Now that he no longer concentrated on the demanding levitation charm, he could hear hoofs galloping behind him, stomping snow and twigs in an amok career.

Harry wheeled abruptly, defending the Pensieve with his body. The sounds were coming from within the Forbidden Forest. He could not see what was making them, but that was the least of his worries.

As he turned, Harry only had a glimpse of the huge image storming him. The thief that ran into the forest had returned, and stalked behind him. It was so close, that even though it was still hooded, Harry could see its face - a huge, pink, round man’s face. Harry could swear this was an enlarged version of Goyle, or was it Crabbe? Harry could never really tell one from the other. He only had a short moment to contemplate on the question before an enormous punch hit his jaw, sending him into painful darkness.

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Hermione knew it had to have been hours since she fell asleep. Still, those comforting, endorsing arms still held her when she woke up, keeping her from all harm. She tilted her head ever so slightly, just enough to rub her cheek against the sleeve beneath her head. She immediately jumped up, horrified.

She knew the touch of Viktor’s cloaks. It was rough and heavy and smelled of mountaintops and deep snow. The cloak against her cheek was very soft and smooth, and smelled like a bunch of carnations mixed with mint. Those arms were not Viktor’s. They belonged to - Draco.

Even though being held by Draco Malfoy was the last thing Hermione wanted, leaping out of his arms was a very stupid thing to do. After being unconscious for hours, her body had just enough strength for that isolated motion, and then she collapsed again, right into his ready hands.

Draco collected her as she fell, putting one hand beneath her shoulders and catching her with his other. He held her like this, helpless, for a few seconds. Then got to his knees slowly, easing her to the floor.

Hermione felt something soft beneath her. She turned her head with effort, and saw that she was lying on a mattress. Hundreds of such mattresses were scattered about the Great Hall, occupied by sleeping students. She wanted to ask Malfoy for some explanations, but he was still crouched over her, and, although he put no weight on her, she found it impossible to breathe.

Reluctantly, Draco pulled away from Hermione, and slumped on the mattress next to her. "Your boyfriend’s over there," he answered her unasked question, pointing at the curled-up figure of Viktor on one of the nearby mattresses.

Hermione didn’t dare try to get up again just yet. She looked at Viktor’s large black figure, coiled on the floor looking like a huge muff-ball. His wool cloak covered every part of him but the top tuft of his hair. "How...?" she stammered, moving her puzzled look to Draco.

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Harry opened his eyes. He was lying on his back in a dimly lit room. Although he couldn’t see the ceiling, he knew this was a room because it had tall stone walls all around it. He could not see any stars either, so he assumed there was a ceiling, only very high above.

Sharp pain threatened to tear him apart. Harry assumed that Goyle’s father (obviously, that’s who he was) did not suffice in the punch that knocked him out, but continued the beating until he was sure Harry wouldn’t wake up anytime soon.

Trying tried to sit up, Harry found that he couldn’t move. He thought he might be under body bind spell, but a throbbing on the surface of his wrists indicated that something was simply holding him down. Trying to wriggle a bit, he felt binds around other parts of his body as well - his ankles, thighs, waist, chest and neck were all restrained by cold metal straps.

A hole opened in one of the stone walls. One after the other, hooded wizards wearing white masks entered the room. They were carrying torches that burned with a green fire, casting odd shadows on the walls, filling the room with a green sickening light.

In the light, Harry could see that he wasn’t lying on the floor of the room. He was strapped to a raised dark green marble altar. The altar was decorated with silver patterns all around it, mostly shaped like snakes. The Silver serpent-like manacles held his hands stretched high over his head, and the marching binds looked like a part of the altar’s ornamentation.

One of the smaller wizards approached Harry. His artificial hand glittered in the light, revealing his identity - Wormtail. Harry looked around, but did not see Voldemort. He thought this could be a great opportunity to capture Wormtail and bring him to the Ministry of Magic as proof of Sirius’ innocence. There was only the minute problem with the manacles holding him, and also the fact that he could see his own wand in Wormtail’s silver hand.

By the time Wormtail had reached Harry, the Death Eaters were no longer coming into the room. They formed a circle around the altar on which Harry was bound. With his human hand, Wormtail held his torch over Harry’s head, and then, with a heavy thrust he lowered the hilt into Harry’s temple, sending him back into the darkness from which he emerged only minutes before.

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[A/N: I thought I’d end the chapter here, and then I thought - well, why not make it worse?]

"There was Sleeping Potion in the punch," Malfoy said unconcernedly. "Anyone who drank from the punch fell asleep."

"Oh," said Hermione, comprehension downing on her. "Didn’t you have any?"

"No," said Malfoy, a shadow of a bitter smile on his lips. "I had plans for tonight that didn’t’ include being drunk." His steel-cold eyes had a spark that yelled "Danger!" to Hermione. She moved her gaze away from his eyes.

"I’m lucky I didn’t drink too much," said Hermione. She naturally knew the potential danger in consuming too much Sleeping Potion. A worried frown took over her face as she said, "there must have been others who did get an overdose!" She tried to get up to look for students who where in moral danger.

"You can stay where you are," Malfoy drawled. "Anyone who needed real care was taken to the hospital wing hours ago."

"Hours!" Hermione called fluttered. "How long was I out?"

Malfoy’s indifferent expression hadn’t faltered. "Around three hours," he said. The look of shock on her face met his amused smile, his almost-white eyes penetrating her very existence.

Then, her expression changed to pure horror. "And you’ve been holding me all that time?" she said, her voice a notch higher than normal.

"Well," His amused smile took over his entire face, "Pansy was taken to the hospital wing. I really didn’t have anything better to do." His usually light grey eyes gave her a very dark look. "You know, this fabric you wear really is nice to the touch. And it’s the same all over the dress."

"Argh!" Hermione brushed her upper arms and then her folded up legs, hugging them to her chest as if she could erase the impression of his touch. She felt extremely violated.

Malfoy looked at her gloatingly. After a while he was tired of watching her scrape off layers of her skin. "I really only touched the dress," he said.

Hermione looked at him infuriated, and stopped her frantic rubbing. "I’ll have these robes burned, then," she said.

"Make sure to take them off first," he retorted, still amused. "Although..." he stopped talking and pretended to be thinking about it.

Hermione glared at him, and was then angry with herself for letting Malfoy get to her. She took a deep breath and visualised herself put an igniting spell over her robes. This image had an odd calming influence on her.

"So, who else beside Pansy was taken to the infirmary?" she asked.

"Weasley," said Malfoy, his smile broadening, but his eyes turning harsher, regaining their normal pale coldness.

"Who, Ginny?"

"No. Ginny is glowing over there." He pointed to a remote section of hall, where Hermione could distinctly see the residue of Harry’s spell on Ginny’s hair. "I meant the uglier Weasley."

Hermione strained her eyes to look around Ginny. It was relatively easy, since Ginny’s hair poured feeble heavenly light on her vicinity. The mattresses around her seemed vacant. "Was Harry taken too?" she asked, unable to hide the worry in her voice.

Malfoy’s cold gaze turned even colder. "I don’t know," he drawled. "I haven’t seen Potter here at all. Maybe he sauntered someplace secluded and dropped dead." He sounded too eager for his words to be taken as a joke.

Hermione glared at him again. She slowly rose to her feet, staggering slightly. Malfoy elegantly leaped up and stood beside her. He hugged her shoulders as she wavered, supporting her with his arms and his chest.

Hermione shivered. "Take - your hands - off me!" she asserted furiously. She didn’t know if her voice quivered from anger or from the effort she put in to remain standing on her feet.

With deliberate slowness, Malfoy took his hands away, brushing her upper arms as he did. "Well, well. Look at you! Standing all by yourself."

She wanted to glare at him but couldn’t even turn her head without chancing to fall over. She waited for some time for her dizziness to diminish. To her surprise, it didn’t take long. She went over to Viktor and checked on his condition. He was fast asleep, releasing soft rhythmic snoring sounds. She tried to remember everything she knew about Sleeping Potions.

Unlike Muggle medicine, the size of the person consuming them was irrelevant to their effect. Only the amount mattered. Viktor had one goblet more than Hermione. That meant he had hours before he woke up. Hermione decided she would have to find Harry on her own. She would start at the infirmary. Malfoy didn’t strike her as a reliable source of information. Especially not information about Harry’s well being.

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"My lord, it had been done," said the small man as he crouched in front of his master. His black robes spread over the flagstones as he bent deeper to grab the rim of his master’s robes and kiss it.

The tall, lean figure that was his master moved away brusquely, causing his minion to fall forward with a thud. "Good," he hissed, his scarlet eyes glowing with frightening delight. "Than, the boy is ours."

"Master, I mean no disrespect," said the minion as he used his silvery hand to heave himself from the flagstones, "but, are you sure this will place the boy under our control?"

With sluggish casualty the master pointed his wand to the minion who by now had risen to his knees. "crucio," he hissed lazily. The small wizard fell back to the ground, rolling and screaming from the deep of his throat. The master let his hand drop slowly, releasing the scrambling servant from his agony.

"As you understand, my deer Wormtail, the answer is yes." His slit snake-like pupils widened slightly, as if the darkness in the room had increased. "Once he kills one of his friends, he will be like play-doh, waiting for us to shape his soul."

"My Lord, why would he kill one of his friends?" Once again, Wormtail tried to push up from the floor, using one steady silver hand and one extremely shaky human hand.

His master turned to him, harsh amusement on his hideous face. "They will mistrust him, fear him. Eventually they will attack him, leaving him no choice. After he does what he must to survive, it’ll be easy for him to repeat it for us." He let out a short croak.

"My Lord, what if they kill him first?"

"All the better. But no. He is strong. Very strong. He is a survivor. No, I don’t think he will die. Potter will become my most important servant. With him as my right hand, there will be no one in the wizarding world who will dare defy me. My way to glory will be much shorter." He turned on his heels and looked sharply at his quivering minion. "Release him."

"Master, are you sure?" Wormtail winced as he saw his master raise his wand again. "Yes My Lord," he said, hurrying away from the wrath of his master.

Wormtail stood at the corner, where two tall, dark walls met. He could almost see the shadows that was the wall moving inside it. Shivering, he opened the palm of his silvery hand. Red and blue flames danced on it. He spread a jot of powder from his pocket over the small fire, and it burned green. "Goyle," he said into his burning palm.

A pink round face appeared in the flame. "Yes?" he said impatiently.

"You are to return Potter to where you found him," ordered Wormtail. Goyle looked at him through the green tongues of fire, radiating disbelief. Wormtail narrowed his eyes. "Those are the words of our lord," he said.

"If you say so," answered Goyle thickly.

Wormtail closed his hand to a fist, putting out the flame. Those were his Master’s orders. He just hoped the Dark Lord would remember them if they fail.

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On the way to the infirmary, Hermione practiced exaggerated sulkiness. Malfoy had insisted on coming with her, claiming he wanted to see Pansy. He refused to answer her question as to why he didn’t go three hours earlier.

The hospital wing was awfully quiet, hosting students who were submerged in deep enforced sleep. The night seemed thicker there in ways that made Hermione gasp for air. She saw that Malfoy was uncomfortable as well, although he didn’t seem to choke like she did.

Madam Pomfrey was moving from bed to bed, checking the students and pouring potions into their mouths. Hermione scanned the occupied beds. She recognised Ron immediately, and could also see Pansy Parkinson. Only five other students were there, but none of them was Harry.

Malfoy showed no interest in Pansy. He strolled leisurely around the room, inspecting the potions on the medicine tray, and showing excessive interest in the ceiling.

"Do you need anything?" asked Madam Pomfrey, temporarily ceasing her caring actions.

"Yes," Hermione said cautiously. "I’m looking for Harry. He wasn’t in the..." She didn’t need to continue. The look of great distress that spread over Madam Pomfrey’s face told her that she knew exactly where Harry was.

"He is here," Hermione tried to state a wishful fact.

"No," said Madam Pomfrey quietly. "He went out." She looked extremely upset when she said that.

"Out?" Hermione had a hard time grasping the idea.

"Out of the castle. He saw something, and he went chasing after it."

"The git," said Malfoy.

Hermione scowled at him. "Aren’t you here to see your girlfriend?" she said.

"Sure," retorted Malfoy. "I see her. She’s over there, asleep." He pointed indistinctly to the direction of Pansy’s bed.

Hermione shook her head dejectedly, and then turned her attention back to Madam Pomfrey, her eyes begging for more information.

"I really don’t know anything else," said Madam Pomfrey, reading the expression on her face. "I went into the Great Hall, and he went out of the castle." She softened her voice. "Don’t worry, he’d been in the worst situations and survived. I’m sure he can take care of himself."

"Take care of himself?!" Hermione shouted, frustrated. "How many times did you have to nurse him back to health from mortal wounds? He’s just a boy!" she stopped shouting, seeing that this amused Malfoy tremendously. "Does Dumbledore know about this?"

"I have informed professor Dumbledore, yes." Madam Pomfrey looked down at the flask in her hand. "To be honest, I don’t know what he can do. I’m afraid it is up to young Mr Potter."

Hermione turned and stormed out of the infirmary without even saying ‘thanks’.

"Where are you going?" Malfoy asked, rushing after her.

"I’m going to see what I can do to help Harry," Hermione felt tears begin to form in her throat. "Go away."

"You’re going to need help," he declared.

This statement caught Hermione so unprepared, that she stopped on the spot. "From you? You will help me save Harry?" she sneered at him.

"You think Potter’s the only one who can fight the bad guys?" he sneered right back.

"You are the bad guys!" She resumed her fast pace.

"Not necessarily." His longer legs easily caught up with her. "I now choose to be on the good guys side."

"You can’t choose!" Hermione panted.

"I can," he said, not showing any signs of effort keeping up the pace. "Admit it. You need help. What will you do if and when you find him? Assuming his condition will allow you to do anything."

Hermione choked on the though. He did have a point in saying Harry could be in a state beyond anyone’s help. The tears that were forming in her throat moved to her eyes, and then took a free dive to the flagstones. "I don’t want you with me," she said quietly. "And I know Harry won’t want you either."

"Tough luck," Malfoy said stiffly. "Because I’m coming either way."

Draco couldn’t understand why he was insisting on going with the Mudblood on her mission to find and save the famous Harry Potter. He amused himself with the idea that saving Potter would mean taking some of his glory and being able to rub it in his face for the rest of their school days.

Also, finding Potter, whatever his condition was, didn’t necessarily mean saving him. If he was to finish off Harry Potter, his position was granted with the powers that be.

Deep in his heart, or whatever Draco had for a heart, he knew that none of these was the reason he was tugging along with the Mudblood. What the real reason was, he could not tell. By the time he finished reasoning his actions, Hermione had already reached the heavy oak doors that led out of the castle and opened them wide.

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Harry woke again. He was no longer tied to the marble altar. He was curled up on the ground, and could feel soft wet snow beneath him. His robes were soaked and heavy, pulling him down as he sat up with great effort.

There was a forest behind his back, and not far away was a hut that looked just like Hagrid’s. He felt around, and surprisingly found his glasses. He put them on. That was Hagrid’s hut. He could see the shadow of Hogwarts castle across the Quidditch pitch.

This was the exact same place where he was attacked. With little hope in his heart, Harry looked around him. The only sign left of the Pensieve was a circle etched into the snow. Many hoof marks surrounded the pressed snow, but the Pensieve was not there.

There was no point in trying to pull himself off the ground. Harry knew that his legs wouldn’t carry him. They didn’t hurt, he just couldn’t feel them at all. He dragged himself on his elbows towards Hagrid’s hut.

With all the strength he had, Harry banged on the lower part of hut’s door, but there was no answer. Hagrid wasn’t there, and even Fang’s barks could not be heard. With even less hope than he had to find the Pensieve, Harry fumbled around in his pockets, looking for his wand. To his utter amazement, he found it. He magiced the door open, and fell inside.

The fire was out but a few smouldering embers that still glowed in the grate. From where he had fallen, Harry pointed his wand to it, and made flames soar up. Then, he collapsed on the floor, still conscious, but completely unable to move.

After a while, the heat coming from the fireplace sent tingles all over Harry’s body, including his legs. He pulled himself closer to the fire, and slumped on the floor in front of it.

Harry regretted the defrosting fire once it had brought back the feeling to his limbs. The dull freeze that occupied his body earlier was replaced with a sharp, unforgiving pain. Fresh blood started streaming from open wounds now that his veins were no longer contracted by the cold.

Harry knew that he must get help. The clock over the hearth showed "long before dawn". The late hour plus the fact that Fang wasn’t around, meant that Hagrid was not due in the hut any time soon.

Under normal circumstances, the Hogwarts castle wasn’t very far away. Now, it seemed almost unreachable. Harry pulled himself up. He stood on shaky legs, but managed to remain standing. He put out the fire, and stepped out to the snow.

Strong wind met him as he let the hut door slam behind him. He started plodding his way towards the castle. One step at a time, he told himself.

The way looked longer than any journey Harry had ever taken. Every step was agony that just increased as he progressed. The castle didn’t seem to get any closer, but the signs on the way told him he was getting there. He passed the eastern Quidditch stadium stands. The Whomping Willow. The western stands.

Harry could no longer feel his legs or his fingers. He only had the last few feet to cover before he reached the tall, steep stairway that led to the heavy oak doors, and into the castle.

On his knees, his hands buried in the snow up to his elbows, Harry crawled towards the base of the steps. He sunk his nails in the first step, and pulled himself closer to it. Once he was close enough, he moved his numb hands to the second step, and pulled again. And again, and again.

The steps seemed to go on forever. The last of Harry’s strength was rapidly leaving him. He looked up - still a long way to go. He looked down, desperately seeking encouragement, and found it. It seemed that he had already passed the half-way point.

With renewed strength, Harry managed to heave himself four more steps before he lost his grip and rolled down, his body hitting the stone steps like a rag-doll. He could hear Hermione’s voice screaming his name from the top of the stairs before he landed at the bottom, breathless, and unconscious.

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Even before he opened his eyes, Harry knew exactly where he was. There was no mistaking the distinct smell of the Hogwarts school infirmary. A small hand was held in his. He gave it a feeble squeeze. The hand jerked, almost breaking contact with him.

"He’s awake! Harry’s awake!" he heard Hermione’s overwrought voice.

Harry opened his eyes a slit. The sunlight in the room was too strong for him. It was definitely daytime. How long has he been asleep? From the crack between his eyelids, Harry could see Ginny sitting by his head, fidgeting in her chair. Hermione sat beside him, still holding his hand. Krum stood above her, his hand on her shoulder, and a worried frown on his face. Harry wondered if he was worried for him, or because of him.

Harry gave Hermione a reassuring smile, and then turned to Ginny. "You’re all right," he said softly. " I was so worried about you."

Ginny gave a nervous titter. "I was in no real danger," she said. "But you... where on earth did you go? What happened to you?"

Harry frowned, ignoring Ginny’s question. Something was seriously wrong with the picture. It dawned on him - "Where’s Ron?" he asked, dreading the answer.

"In the bed next to you," replied Ginny, pointing behind Harry. "He’s still sleeping off the potion."

"What potion?"

"Oh, right, you don’t know," said Ginny, looking even more irritated. "There was Sleeping Potion in the punch. Anyone who drank it fell asleep. Ron had quite a lot, so he needed some antidote, and he was brought here."

The infirmary door opened, and professor Dumbledore walked in, accompanied by a large black dog. He stopped a few feet away from Harry, while the black dog ran to the bed and put his head on Harry’s (and Hermione’s) hand.

Harry smiled cheerfully, and patted the dog. "Hello Snaffles," he said.

The dog raised his head and struck Harry’s cheek with his muzzles. This action caused Madam Pomfrey to jerk in front of Harry’s bed, a shocked look on her face.

"Everybody out of here!" she announced with a tone that left no room for dispute.

"Oh, come on Poppy," said Dumbledore with a conciliating tone, his eyes twinkling. "You know how much Harry is attached to his, ehem, dog."

Madam Pomfrey knew very well who the dog was. She let him stay with Harry more than once before, but this time there were too many people around for Sirius to assume his human form. "Just make sure he doesn’t leave any hair on the bed," she said crossed, knowing that the fight was lost before it even began.

The sight of Dumbledore brought the memories of the previous night back to Harry, and he shuddered. "Your Pensieve..." he began.

"Is gone," Dumbledore finished for him. "Did you see the ones who took it?" He looked at Harry very seriously, although his eyes kept twinkling.

Harry looked around. The students on the other beds were still be asleep, but he felt uncomfortable talking near them, or near his well-wishers for that matter. He didn’t want to say anything about the events of the night to Ginny, and he certainly didn’t want to reveal everything to Krum. Hermione was the only one he felt easy talking to.

Dumbledore interpreted Harry’s uncomfortable gaze well. "I would like to be left alone with Harry, please," he said in a tranquil, and yet firm voice.

The three guests rose and went to the infirmary door. Before she left, Hermione gave Harry’s hand one last encouraging squeeze.

"I’ll talk to you later," Harry said. Both Ginny and Hermione nodded in agreement, and Harry wondered which one of them he actually meant.

The moment the door closed behind them, Harry started talking. His story was very short, and barely gave Sirius time to turn into a man. "I’m sorry," Harry apologised. "I was out cold most of the time. I really don’t remember much."

"Do you know how you escaped?" asked Dumbledore.

"I have no idea," said Harry. "I know I didn’t do it. There must have been someone there who helped me."

"Maybe," Dumbledore pondered out loud. "Maybe we have an aid among the Dark Forces. You are very lucky to have escaped. The way it sounds, you were in a very difficult position. Whoever freed you must have taken great risks upon himself."

Sirius, who so far seemed very restless, could no longer hold his tongue. "That was extremely stupid, running off after a Death Eater like that. What were you thinking? Someone was able to penetrate the castle, attack Madam Pomfrey, slip a potion into the punch under the open eyes of all the Hogwarts professors, and run away with an item right from Dumbledore’s chambers, and you thought that you - an underage wizard, would catch him and retrieve the item? That is not only stupid, that is also extremely arrogant of you!" He looked furious.

"I’m sorry," mumbled Harry. "I wasn’t thinking. I just saw him, and I simply ran after him, I didn’t stop to consider -"

"You’re right about that!" Sirius continued his scolding. "You weren’t thinking."

"Now, now, Sirius," Dumbledore tried to calm him down. "The boy is safe now. He will be back on his feet within a few days. I’m sure that you would have done the same in his place. Actually, when you were in his place you did exactly the same."

"That is no excuse," said Sirius, still trying to sound harsh, but his voice gave him away. He smiled uncomfortably at Harry. "You could have been killed. As a matter of fact, you almost did die. If it hadn’t been for Hermione and the Malfoy boy, I’m not sure we would be holding this conversation now."

"Malfoy?!" screeched Harry. "What’s he got to do with it?"

"He’s the one who carried you back into the castle," Dumbledore answered calmly.

"Malfoy?" repeated Harry. "Malfoy saved my life?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes," said Sirius. "Actually, that is exactly what he did. You were so hypothermic when he got you in here, that a few more minutes out in the snow would have probably been the end of you."

Harry shook his head, trying to settle the new information somewhere in his head. He’s going to rub this in my face for the rest of our days in Hogwarts, he thought.

Madam Pomfrey approached them again. "Harry really needs to rest now," she said, testing the affect of her words on them. When she received no protest, she continued more confidently, "If you have no more important things to discuss, I would like him to take his Resting Potion now. I would have given him Sleeping Potion, but I have none left." She gazed irritated at the sleeping students.

Dumbledore and Sirius left Harry alone with his light blue swirling potion. Harry swallowed the most tasteful potion he had so far and leaned back, relaxed. He started feeling the impact of his injuries in splitting pains all over his body.

Not most painful, but certainly most annoying, was a lesion on Harry’s arm. It radiated waves of unpleasant heat all over his body. Harry pulled away the sleeve of the infirmary robes and looked at what he expected to be a wound.

On his forearm, at exactly the place he had seen red marks twice during the last two days, was no longer a red mark. Nor was the expected bruise. On his arm, drawn in clear vermilion, was a human skull with a snake coming out of its mouth. The Dark Mark. Harry pulled the sleeve back down and closed his eyes in disbelief.

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A/N: I know I promised a new mate for Krum, but we’ll just have to wait till next time. Some of you were very close, though, and I’ll grant you your equitable points after the affair is out. And no, it’s not Ginny. She’s only fifteen. Honestly!

Grave apology (as usual): I’m really, really sorry. I didn’t mean to put Harry through such misery. He was supposed to simply plod his way to the castle, and collapse at the top of the stairs right at Hermione’s feet, but the wiseacre saw Hagrid’s hut, and wasted all his strength breaking into it. I really have no idea how things deteriorated from there... well, at least now he’s ok (sort of). All that’s left is to plunge on into the next chapter, where there will be a hilarious and yet disturbing Care of Magical Creatures class, compliments of professor Rubeus Hagrid. TA!

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