Harry Potter and the Forest of Kavan by bamaslamma29

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Action & Adventure
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 4
Published: 09/03/2003
Last Updated: 09/03/2003
Status: Completed

It's Harry, Hermione, and Ron's sixth year at Hogwarts, and things are changing;
feelings are changing. Voldemort's on the move again...what will he do when he finds out that
he may now have a better way to get to Harry...Hermione?




1. Chapter 1
------------

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter; all characters and general story lines belong to J.K.
Rowling. I am not and will not make any money off of this. It is purely for fun.

Chapter 1

Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger walked back to the Gryffindor common room
chatting excitedly. It was Wednesday and the last Quidditch game of the season between Slytherin
and Gryffindor was to be that Friday. As with all of the Hogwarts students, they couldn't wait.
The whole school was abuzz.

It was the three friends sixth year at Hogwarts and they knew that recruiters for Britain's
major league Quidditch team, the Knights, would be there to watch this particular game. All four
Hogwarts houses had fought for this moment, and it had come down to Gryffindor and Slytherin.

Harry was still seeker, having started at eleven years of age in his first year at Hogwarts.
Since he had six years of the game under his belt he had become quite good, and Ron and Hermione
were excited beyond words at his prospects.

"Harry, just remember to keep your eyes on the snitch as soon as it's released,"
Ron said as they reached the portrait of the fat lady. She was fast asleep and snoring loudly, for
it was a quarter of eleven, and the three were supposed to be in quarters by now. "And for
your sake keep a watch out for that slimy git Malfoy!"

"He'll be after you Harry...lemondrop," finished Hermione in the same breath to
the fat lady. Rather than wake up to open her portrait to them, she simply snorted in deep sleep
and turned the other way. Hermione frowned. "You know he won't be able to stand it if the
recruiters look at you for their new seeker rather than he...*lemondrop*!" she repeated
rather loudly in annoyance.

The fat lady opened one bloodshot eye and frowned.

"A little *late* aren't you?" she chided and then yawned. "Enter."
The portrait swung open and the three stepped inside. The common room was deserted; everyone having
common sense had gone up to bed.

"I'll be careful." Harry replied to his friends, "Wood has been pushing us
hard, so I'm in better shape than I've been before. I don't care what Malfoy does so
long as he doesn't get in my way... Maybe I'll direct a bludger or two his way... by
accident of course." Harry grinned down at Hermione and her heart flip-flopped the silly way
it had been for the past couple of years. Something had changed for her in the way she looked at
Harry and it almost scared her. Did he feel the same things?

*No he couldn't*, she thought to herself, *I'm just Hermione, just one of the*
*triangle*. *How could he look at me any other way?* But she had caught Harry staring at
her a few times. As soon as she had seen him, he had turned slightly pink and looked away.

All three of them had changed so much since their first meeting that day on the Hogwarts
Express. Both Harry and Ron now towered over her, both being a good six inches taller than she. Ron
had grown out of the side-kick mold, not just considered the famous Harry Potter's friend. He
had come into his own and made a name for himself, most likely due to all of the adventures he had
gone on with Harry and herself and having been an integral part on his own at helping to bring down
Voldemort's plots so many times. He himself was now admired by many apart from Harry. He would
never quite be the shining star that Harry was, but much to his credit he wasn't jealous of
that fact. Hermione admired Ron for that. He was a beloved friend. But why had Harry become
something more for her? And what exactly *was* she feeling?

She studied Harry as he and Ron sat in front of the fire and discussed Quidditch strategies. Not
only had he grown taller, but broader. He was no longer the *boy*-who-lived, but the young
man.

As he leaned forward on his knees listening to Ron, Hermione noticed the rippling in his shirt
from his distinct chest and arm muscles. She supposed it was a combination of Quidditch and growing
older. He still wore the wire rimmed glasses on his smooth face, and his hair was still a shock of
dark brown and ever untamable. And his eyes...Hermione could never get past those. They were a
brilliant, piercing green, not usual. When Harry looked at her with those eyes, she felt like he
could see down into her very soul. At times it was almost disconcerting as she felt he could surely
see what she was thinking.

Quickly she cut off her train of thought. He's a friend, she told herself, only a friend.
One of my two best friends, and that's the way it is. That's the way it had to be.

"'Mione, did you hear me?" asked Ron.

"What?" asked Hermione, startled.

"I've only asked you the same question three times," said an exasperated Ron,
"You just kept staring into the fire."

Harry fixed her with a crooked smile. "Where were you?"

"S... Sorry, I," Hermione stammered, "I wasn't listening..."

"*Guess not*!" said Ron with a smirk. "I asked you if you finished your
assignment in divination."

"Yes I finished it; not that it's done me much good. I swear I stared at that crystal
ball for an hour and all I saw was haze. Maybe I can tell Trelawny that a little triangle popped up
that said 'outcome unclear'."

"That's too bad," sighed Ron, "I was hoping you could help me with
mine."

"Ron, no one can help you with Divination," said Harry, "It's *your*
crystal. No one will see your future but you."

"Really? Ok then *Master of the Unknown*, tell me what does your future hold?"
asked Ron tightly.

Harry snorted rather derisively. "I never said I was good at it either. The only ones in
class who ever seem to see anything are Lavender and Parvarti. But I think they make half of it up
to impress Trelawny."

"Of course they do," sniffed Hermione, "The first time they saw something they
became teachers pet. They want to stay that way, don't they?"

Hermione had had a problem with Lavender and Parvarti ever since last year, when they both began
to notice boys, in particular Harry. Ron knew this but wisely decided to keep his thoughts to
himself.

"Hmph... well I'm off. Better get enough sleep before the Herbology exam tomorrow.
Professor Sprout said it was quite a large one... Coming Harry?"

"In a bit," he replied," I just have a few things I want to look up here."
Harry held up a copy of *Quidditch Throughout The Years*."

"Suit yourself," shrugged Ron as he bounded up the stairs.

That left Harry and Hermione alone. Hermione bit her lip nervously, and stood. "Well I best
be off too," she said turning towards the steps for the girls dorms.

"'Mione wait," called Harry.

Hermione turned back and glanced at Harry a little nervously.

"I didn't really want to read anything," explained Harry a little sheepishly,
"I just wanted to talk to you alone."

"Umm.. it's rather late Harry," began Hermione. With Ron there, there was a buffer
to her feelings. But now that he had gone up to bed, she was afraid to be alone with Harry, lest he
see something he shouldn't.

"Wait please." Harry grabbed her hand.

Hermione felt an electric shock that went straight through her at his touch. As she looked down
at Harry, she saw an odd look cross his face. *What* *was that about?*

Harry pulled her down on the couch next to him and slowly released her hand.

"What is it?" began Hermione quietly.

Harry looked up at her. The fire light danced on her delicate features and spun the highlights
in her light brown hair into gold. Her large chocolate eyes bored into his so that Harry found it
hard to breathe. He felt confusion set in the same as it had been for a while now. He blinked hard,
trying to clear his head.

"Um... I wanted to talk to you about..." Harry hesitated, trying to find the right
words. "Are you all right? I mean...lately I feel like you've been avoiding me."

Hermione looked startled. "Avoiding you!? Why on earth would I do that? You're my best
friend, Harry."

"Well it seems like maybe it started at the ball last month." Harry knit his brows
together as he thought back. "Remember? After we danced."

Hermione remembered well. After she and Harry had danced, she had danced with Ron. It had been
such a different feeling. With Ron, she was more relaxed...just a friend with a friend. But when
she had danced with Harry, as they held hands and moved on the floor together, she had felt like
her head was swimming. She had looked up once to see Harry staring at her intensely, but as soon as
he noticed, his expression turned innocent again, and he had smirked and twirled her. Just Harry.
But had he really been looking at her that way or was it all an illusion?

After dancing with Harry and Ron, Hermione had danced with several others, including Seamus,
Dean, and Neville, and Harry had danced with several others, including Alicia, Parvarti, and
Lavender, who was obviously smitten with him. She remembered seeing those two in particular and
feeling an intense pang of jealousy that she had quickly shoved away. Again she had no right to
feel that way... it was just Harry. That's when she supposed that she had made an unconscious
effort from then on to keep it light between them.

"'Mione, you still here? Still with me?" smiled Harry, "You left me
again."

*No, I'd never leave you, not if I knew you wanted me to* *stay...* "Sorry
Harry, I was just thinking back... I promise you I haven't been avoiding you, at least not
intentionally. Aren't you, Ron and I always together?"

Harry looked thoughtful. "Yeah, but only when Ron's around."

He paused for a moment thinking about what he had just said and whether or not it was
appropriate. "Do... do you..." and there Harry stopped, looking a little embarrassed and
ran a hand through his mussed hair.

"What? Harry you know you can ask me anything."

Harry sighed and hesitated for a moment. "Do you have something going on with
Ron?"

Hermione laughed out loud and then checked herself. No sense in waking all of Gryffindor.
"With Ron?" she laughed softly, "No Harry, of course not! What would make you think
something like that?"

Again, Harry raked a hand through his hair... one of his more endearing traits... *Check that
Hermione! He's just Harry... Just a friend...*

"Well... Well I just thought since you didn't seem to want to be with me alone... maybe
you thought Ron wouldn't like it," finished Harry sheepishly.

"Oh Harry, honestly!" laughed Hermione, "I love Ron to death but only as a dear
friend."

Harry leaned forward on his knees and stared into the fire, his expression somber.

Hermione's smile faded as well as she studied Harry. He was obviously deep in thought about
something that he was having a hard time expressing. She waited patiently. Finally...

"How about me..." Harry asked quietly.

Immediately Hermione's heart flipped. It was beating so hard she thought surely that he
could hear it. *Oh Harry, you're everything to me... You're so much more than just my
best friend... Every morning my first thoughts are about you... whenever I need someone to talk to
I come to you... I worry about you because of Voldemort, but I think of your bravery. I think of
how many times you've saved mine and Ron's life. I think of how it killed me to see you
dancing with Lavender... or any other girl for that matter. I wonder how it would be if you and I
were...*

"Do you mean because you think I've been avoiding you? Oh Harry...it's
just...it's something I'm working out for myself, that's all. You're still my very
best friend."

Hermione took his hand before she thought about what she was doing, and Harry held her hand
tighter, turning away from the fire towards her. His expressive green eyes bored into hers with an
intensity that took her breath away.

*Harry don't look at me like that... I'll lose my resolve...*

Again, he seemed like he wanted to say something but was having a hard time getting it out. They
stared at each other for what seemed like forever, so close in the dark, warm room, lit only by the
fire in the hearth.

Harry was mesmerized. Hermione had changed so much. She wasn't a girl anymore... she was a
young woman, and a beautiful one at that. Her curly rich hair fell to almost the middle of her
back, and her soft delicate features and large chocolate eyes were made even more beautiful in the
firelight.

He also knew that he hadn't been the only one to notice the changes. He knew several boys in
Gryffindor and a few in Ravenclaw who had had their eyes on her since fourth year... and those were
just the ones that he knew about.

He thought about all the times she pored over books; how she bit her lip in concentration, and
constantly pushed her hair behind her ears...how her smile seemed to light up a room; how he
searched for her in every crowd. How had things changed so completely, so fast? What did it mean
for him... for them?

Hermione studied Harry's face. She knew every feature. The brilliant emerald green eyes
under the absurdly long lashes; how he constantly had to shake his hair out of his eyes; his broad
shoulders; the way he felt when they had danced; the times they had hugged as friends; a million
different expressions of his; the dangerous look on his face, wand in hand as he fought Voldemort
or one of the dark lord's followers. Whatever was happening here was about to be revealed.
Hermione couldn't be more terrified or excited at the same time.

"'Mione..." Harry whispered. He was only a hands breadth away.

Hermione felt herself shiver as he breathed her name. When she spoke it was more of a statement
than a question. "What do you want Harry..."

He hesitated, his eyes taking in every feature of her face.

"I'm not sure..." he drew closer, "But I know you're not just my best
friend."

Hermione closed her eyes. She thought her heart would burst. He felt the same way. She almost
panicked with the thought that it was true. When she opened her eyes again, Harry was so close that
she could feel the warmth of his body and his breath on her face.

They stayed that way for what seemed like hours.

Once again Hermione asked the same question. "What do you want..."

Harry's lips parted and he simply shook his head. Words wouldn't do. Placing his hands
on either side of her face, he drew her in and gave her a soft sweet kiss.

Hermione put her arms around his neck and drew him closer. She felt like she had been waiting
for this forever. She could smell the soap he used, the smell of his hair, his clothes.

Harry's kiss deepened. He put his arms around her waist and crushed her to him. His senses
were heightened. He no longer knew where he was, only that he was kissing Hermione. There was
nothing before or after.

Their kissing became more passionate and they laid back on the couch. Hermione pressed her body
against Harry's reveling his strength. She felt him respond and their kissing became almost
desperate. Harry began kissing her cheek, her neck; his hands were hot on her skin, under her
shirt, on her belly...

Both stopped for a moment, breathing hard; hearts racing. Hermione's hands were tangled in
Harry's hair. Neither realized how fiercely passionate they had become in such a short time
until it was almost too late.

"We need to.."

"Stop. I know..." finished Harry breathlessly, " I don't want too
though."

" Me neither," said Hermione, equally as breathless, "Which means that we
*definitely* need to."

As her lips were still stinging and warm from Harry's kiss; Hermione realized that for the
first time, she *really* wished she were one of those people who threw caution to the wind.
But she didn't trust herself or Harry for the moment to use their brains.

She looked at Harry and he looked at her. Both smiled. What had happened there tonight was for
the moment, for them only to know about. Neither felt any need for words or deep discussion about
what was going on and what it meant; both were now equally aware that the other had felt the same
thing for a long time. It needed no definition or title. They had both simply crossed the invisible
line that they had dared not cross before. They knew it was the start of something completely new.
Both stood reluctantly.

"G'night Harry," said Hermione quietly, walking towards the girls stairs.

Harry hung his head and grinned. "G'night 'Mione."

He shoved his hands in his pockets and headed towards the boy's stairs when Hermione called
out to him once more and turned. "Harry...I...I want you to know that..." she stumbled
over the words and could get no further.

"I know. I have too...For a long time." Harry finished for her. Nothing else needed to
be said at the moment.

Hermione smiled and headed upstairs. "G'night Harry."

"G'night love."

As Hermione laid in her bed, sleep wouldn't come. All she could do was think of Harry; his
kiss, his touch, the way his hands felt. She felt herself shudder with excitement. She could hardly
believe what had happened, or for that matter, how she had responded to his touch.

Had they really just kissed? Had they really just confessed their feelings to each other? It was
almost easier to believe that she'd imagined it all. As she closed her eyes and willed sleep to
come, the last thing she remembered before drifting off was Harry's beautiful face.

Harry tossed in his bed. His eyes made out the blurry form of Ron in the bed beside his, who had
apparently fallen asleep before pulling the curtains around his bed shut. He was snoring soundly,
oblivious to Harry's tossing.

Harry frowned. How would this affect their friendship? He didn't even know how to begin to
tell him. Ron had at one time had feelings for Hermione, but had come to realize that it wasn't
what he thought... besides the fact that she didn't share them; much to Harry's relief.

He thought back to that time only last year. At the time, he had chalked up his jealousy and the
relief he later felt to being worried that the threesome's tight friendship would suffer. Now,
he thought rather stupidly of himself, he realized that it was more all along.

He thought of Hermione so close; only a hallway away. He remembered the smell of her hair and
the feel of her lips on his and knew beyond a doubt that it was much more than friendship that he
felt.

Harry's heart sunk as he realized another hard fact: Voldemort.

If he were ever to somehow find out about his and Hermione's relationship, it could be
detrimental. Harry was well protected at Hogwarts and at the Dursley's, and as a result, both
Ron and Hermione, being associated with him were equally as protected, at least at Hogwarts. But
off of school grounds? At least Ron's family was magical. But both Hermione's mother and
father were Muggle. On school grounds, at least, the three were almost constantly together, so
Harry didn't feel a particular threat there...not to deny that certain events had happened at
Hogwarts before. But still...Harry couldn't be as cool headed when it came to someone he loved.
Voldemort would know that.

Quickly Harry checked himself. *He loved?* That thought had come as quickly and easily to
him as if it had always been. It was hard for him to use that word, much less think it as he had
never really felt it before, at least when he was old enough to remember. The Dursley's had
never given him a reason to love them, and they certainly didn't love him. He was a burden and
an embarrassment; someone to be hidden away when company was over, and simply ostracized when it
was only the family.

Family...Harry thought. Ron, Hermione, and his godfather, Sirius were the only family he had
ever really known. And as Sirius was constantly in hiding from the Ministry, Harry hardly ever saw
him. Why had his mother and father had to die when he was so young?

Harry sighed and rolling over in his bed, he reached under it to pull out the family album that
Hagrid had given him as a gift in his first year. Opening to the first page, he watched as his
mother and father held him, picking up his small arm and waving it for the camera.

Harry closed his eyes and laid the album on his chest, hugging it to himself. What he would give
to have his parents back again...for just one day to feel the love of a real family. To introduce
them to Ron...and to Hermione.

Harry's hand slipped off of the album and fell to his side. Sleep had finally claimed
him.

**********************************



2. Chapter2
-----------

Chapter 2

The next day the great hall was abuzz with excitement. Only a few more days until the biggest
and last Quidditch match of the year. Even Snape seemed a little nicer. He actually wore something
resembling a smile on his face but, of course, that was only when talking to Slytherin about the
match.

At breakfast, a couple of tables over, Malfoy managed to catch Harry's eye mid-bite and gave
him a nasty smirk.

"Oy Potter...might as well give up now! Everyone knows the judges'll bypass you for
seeker! You'll probably cast off your broom first round, if you don't swallow a bludger
first!"

This brought a round of general laughter from the Slytherin table, including Malfoy's
sidekicks Crabbe and Goyle. The troll-faced friends gave a few dumb snickers and nasty shouts
Harry's way.

Ron's face burned as brightly as his hair. "You're just off because Gryffindor won
the last match against you Draco! In case you forgot, the last time we came up against, we beat the
pants off of you!"

"Only by a little!" Crabbe yelled back.

Malfoy elbowed Crabbe harshly and gave him an angry glare. Apparently losing by a little still
wasn't admirable in his book. His father had taught him that failure was never acceptable. Not
even by a little.

Ron sniggered and turned back to Harry and Hermione, who seemed to be a little pink and
purposefully ignoring Malfoy and everyone else in general. He frowned.

"What's with you two then..."

"Huh?" said Harry almost dropping his fork, "Wh...what..."

"Well you've hardly spoken a word this morning...either of you. Normally you'd have
something nasty to say back to Malfoy, or Harry at least a twinge with you're wand! What's
the matter then?"

"Nothing," said Hermione, rather quickly. She'd hardly touched her breakfast.
"Well, I'd better get ready for Herbology."

She stood and smiled at them, giving a particularly warm smile to Harry. Ron noticed and glanced
at Harry, who had been smiling back, but quickly turned back to his breakfast.

"Hermione, we've still got twenty minutes before class!" began Ron.

"I've still got to study a bit," replied Hermione, backing away.

Ron noticed her face was flushing a hot red and she pushed her hair behind her ear
nervously.

"Well see you two in class then..."

She rushed down the makeshift pathway between the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables and left the
hall.

Ron turned back to Harry who shrugged innocently.

"Mental, that one is," said Ron, "I asked her why she was so tired this morning
and she said she was up late studying. Why would she need to study more?"

Harry seemed to choke on his eggs just then and didn't have an answer. Ron frowned
suspiciously.

*****************************************

In Herbology, Professor Sprout handed out the tests amid a rumble of protests from the students.
Harry glanced at the test and then spoke out loud.

"An essay!? The test is an essay!?"

"Of course it had to be," said Ron testily, "I didn't study enough on one
particular thing to write an essay about it!"

"Well then that'll be your fault, won't it Mr. Weasley?" said the Professor
from a few rows down. "Perhaps you and Mr. Potter might have a better go at it if you talked
less and wrote more."

A few desks away, Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle and snickered.

Hermione set her jaw and whispered to Ron and Harry. "Why we have to have Herbology,
Potions, *and* Transfiguration with the Slytherin is beyond me."

"Miss Granger," said Professor Sprout, "another word and five points will be
taken from Gryffindor."

"Sorry," said Hermione and smiled at Harry and Ron behind her hair.

Again Ron noticed the warm looks that Harry and Hermione exchanged and frowned. *What* was
going on?

A few desks away, Draco Malfoy noticed the same thing and frowned to himself. He'd know that
look anywhere. It was the same look that Pansy Parkinson was always trying to get him to
notice.

Was Potter falling for the *Mudblood*? Draco snickered, and then wondered how that might be
used to his advantage. He looked at Hermione and shuddered. He at least thought Harry had better
taste than that. Oh, Granger was pretty enough to look at, but to date!? She was Muggle born.
Everyone knew that. Malfoy would never be friends with one of those, much less date one. Good thing
most of Slytherin were pure bloods, at least the ones he hung out with.

Malfoy smiled smugly to himself. That's why Slytherin was the best house.

After Herbology, Harry, Ron and Hermione moved into the crowded halls weaving their way towards
Professor Snape's Potions class.

As Ron walked in front, Harry took the opportunity to grab Hermione's hand, he thought
rather sneakily.

Hermione looked up at him in surprise and Harry gave her a slight smile and a wink. She blushed
and squeezed his hand, giving him a look that sent a thrill straight through him.

"So when can we find time to be alone..." said Harry bending close to Hermione's
ear.

She found his breath on that particular area to be a little disconcerting and turned her head
slightly his way, blushing. "Maybe tonight, sometime after dinner."

Harry smiled at her. "Can't wait."

At that moment Malfoy barged up in front of them cutting off their path quickly.

"Jeez, Potter," he drawled snottily, "I thought you had more class than
that."

Ron turned around quickly, and just as quickly, Harry dropped Hermione's hand and took a
step toward Draco, speaking in a low voice.

"Shut up Malfoy."

"What'd you mean by that?" said Ron angrily, taking a step toward Malfoy.

He ignored Ron and circled Harry and Hermione slowly. "So you decided to make it official..
can't say I'm surprised. But coming from an all wizarding family I thought you would have
chosen better."

Harry's eyes flashed and he grabbed his wand.

"Harry don't." Hermione grabbed his arm. "He's just trying to get you in
trouble with Snape. We're right near the classroom."

"I don't care," he growled back, shaking Hermione's hand off.

Ron stepped between them and shoved Malfoy back a bit. "What're you on about...
What'd you mean 'chosen better'?"

Malfoy's eyes widened and he grinned, looking from Harry to Ron.

Harry's eyes, while still angry, pleaded for Malfoy's silence.

"You mean you don't know Weasley!?" drawled Malfoy snottily, "What a great
lot of friends *you've* got!"

By that time a crowd of students had gathered around the four and were murmuring amongst
themselves; some snickering, some hoping for a good fight.

Ron looked back at Harry and Hermione with an angry, confused look on his face.

"Harry..."

"They're together! You haven't seen?" Malfoy laughed, "What an idiot! And
all behind your stupid back..."

He realized that it still wasn't registering with Ron and pointed at Harry and Hermione.
"Look at them! *Ask!*"

Ron whipped back around and looked pointedly at them. He didn't need to ask anything. The
guilty looks on their faces was enough. Hermione was almost in tears.

"Ron, we wanted to tell you all day today..." She put a hand on Ron's arm but he
shook it off.

Harry stepped forward shaking his head. "I'm sorry... we were going to tell you
soon...we just weren't sure how..."

"Weren't sure how!?" Ron snapped angrily taking a step back from them, "You
walk up to me and you tell me! That's how!"

Harry opened and closed his fists in helplessness. "I... we just weren't sure how
you'd take it!"

Ron stabbed a finger in Draco's direction. "Well I bloody well might've taken it
better if it didn't have to come from Malfoy!"

Draco snickered wildly. "Knew you weren't on the bright side Weasley, but then
you're family never really is. Look at it this way... at least *you* don't get stuck
with the mudblood. One of you had too. Everyone knew it."

The whole crowd of students did a collective intake of breath at Malfoy's comments, and
began talking louder amongst themselves. Most hadn't heard Malfoy use that word before... if
they had they would've remembered Ron trying to curse him with a belly full of slugs.

Both Harry and Ron seethed and whipped out their wands at the same time.

"Malfoy!" yelled Harry furiously pointing his wand.

Malfoy turned with a smirk but before he could even fully turn around, a livid Hermione marched
past Ron and Harry and punched Draco so soundly across the face that he stumbled backward.

Draco held his cheek and stared at Hermione in astonishment.

Harry and Ron began to rush forward but stopped at a look from Hermione. She turned back to
Draco, visibly shaken from what she had just done; although her voice didn't betray it.

"Don't *EVER* speak to me or about me like that ever again Malfoy! Maybe
*you* should learn what class is!"

Draco gritted his teeth and reached for his wand but Harry was quicker.
"*Immobulus*!" His wand shot out a blue streak of energy that rendered Malfoy
completely unable to move, except for his eyes.

At that moment, Snape stormed out of his classroom glaring at the collective crowd. Swiping his
greasy black hair from his face, he spoke to them in his trademark condescending way.

"*What* is going on here? Perhaps it was thought by you all that class was to be held
in the hallway today... Potter, you're idea?"

Snape's small eyes fixed on Harry as usual, and as usual, he glared nastily back.

The students glanced sideways at the still form of Malfoy and then to the other three as they
edged and shouldered their way past them into the classroom.

Hermione drew in a sharp intake of breath. Snape still hadn't noticed that Malfoy hadn't
moved. She, Harry and Ron also stayed put, hoping Snape would walk into the classroom first so that
they could counter curse Malfoy before the Professor noticed.

Snape tilted his head sarcastically towards Harry. "Well Potter, class won't teach
itself, and unfortunately, you're still not famous enough for me to abandon them to teach you
and yours in the hallway. So when you care to join us..." He whirled neatly away and marched
back into his classroom.

Hermione closed her eyes and breathed. As she and Harry walked past Malfoy and headed into the
room, Ron stopped in front of him and pointed his wand in the other boy's face, grinning
maliciously.

Malfoy's eyes widened as Ron stepped closer, letting his wand tip rest just under the
blonde's nose.

"*Mobulus*."

It was just a whisper, but as Malfoy's body relaxed from the curse he almost fell backwards
in an attempt to get away from Weasley.

Ron continued to stare at Draco dangerously, but calmly walked past him into the classroom.

Shaken, Malfoy closed his eyes briefly and swallowed. Weasley could've done anything to him
just then. He calmed himself and slowly made it inside.

***************************************

After class, Harry left Hermione with an apology and ran after Ron, who was trying his best to
avoid him. He finally caught up with him right before he could reach the Divination classroom and
grabbed his arm.

"Ron, wait!"

"What'd you want Harry, we're gonna be late," said Ron rather testily.

Harry winced at the stitch in his side and spoke through bated breath. "Look, I'm
sorry. We really were going to tell you. I... we were just waiting for the right time."

"So how long?" began Ron angrily, "How long have I been an idiot!? I
should've seen it all along..."

"*All along*!?" Harry cut him off in surprise, "This just happened last
night... after you went to bed."

Ron breathed out heavily and sighed, dropping his books to the floor and seating himself. Harry
followed.

"Harry, maybe you're more stupid than I am."

Confused, Harry opened his mouth to answer in the negative, but thought better of it and slumped
against the wall. "I swear Ron... just last night. I guess we just realized what we felt
and..."

"Look," Ron cut him off, more angrily than before. "I'm not off because you
and 'Mione have a *thing*, ok? I'm off because you didn't tell me straight away
today, and I guess because... well..."

At that moment Professor Trelawny glided to the classroom door intending to close it and saw
Harry and Ron camped out outside.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, I believe class is starting." Her eyes, three times their
normal size behind her enormously thick glasses, narrowed at the two young men.

Ron sighed and stood, Harry following. "Lunch is after, we'll talk more then,"
said Ron following Trelawny inside.

Harry stood and shook the dark hair testily from his eyes reluctantly following Ron in.
Divination was among his least favorite classes.

Class went as usual. Trelawny glided along each row collecting the homework assignments.

As usual, she frowned at Ron for the very short paragraph he handed in, and as usual, when she
got to Harry, she looked at him with pity, and clucked and sighed, mumbling under her breath about
what a pity it was to see such a promising young life cut so short.

Trelawny had been predicting Harry's early demise since the first day he walked into the
classroom, so as the Professor passed him with another sigh, Harry rolled his eyes and slumped down
in his seat.

*Divination... nothing new.*

As Harry sat trying hard to concentrate on the fresh air from the open window and not on the
overly perfumed smell of the classroom, (Trelawny insisted on incense), he glanced over at Ron, who
made sure that if he saw, he did not glance back.

He began to wonder if his and Ron's friendship would be able to sustain the initial
weirdness of two of their tight three dating.

He wanted to make sure Ron knew that he would not be left out; that he and Hermione both still
loved him, and he was their best friend, no matter what.

Harry thought of Hermione just then; how she must be in Arithmancy class alternating between
trying hard to concentrate on work and worrying about Ron.

He knew her well enough to know that this was eating at her as much as he...

"Mr. Potter," called the elderly, ethereal voice from the front of the classroom.

Harry looked up from his day-dreaming to see Professor Trelawny's enormous eyes shooting
concerned looks his way.

The entire class was a sea of upturned faces, all directed toward him... all except for Ron, who
continued to work at his desk as if nothing was happening.

"Now that I have your attention," began Trelawny, "I see from your homework
assignment that you have not studied your crystal properly." Her face fell as she continued.
"Your report includes everything from Quidditch scores to personal involvement with
Vol...(ahem) *He-who-must-not-be-named*, but contains nothing of the shortness of your life,
or the tragic death that will ensue!"

Harry slumped down further in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose, moaning.

Lavender and Parvarti, fully believing everything Trelawny spoke or predicted, burst into tears,
while others chuckled at Harry's utter embarrassment. The Professor continued rather
tremulously.

"While we all regret it, it does no good to ignore facts... We have seen what we have
seen..."

Harry found it even more annoying that when the Professor spoke of any of her visions, she began
idiotically referring to herself in the third person. He groaned even louder. He'd had
enough.

"Professor! All *I* ever see is haze! That's all most of the class sees. If
I'm gonna die young, I haven't seen it... I don't even believe in this
*junk*."

Trelawny took an involuntary step back in utter shock and dismay. While she was angry with the
outburst, she still believed Potter to be in denial. There wasn't any other explanation, was
there?

"Well!... Well..." she sputtered, pushing her glasses up on the bridge of her nose.
"Perhaps you should visit Madame Pomfrey; you do look a little pale...This may be what's
causing your denial! Perhaps this is the beginning of the end..."

Harry started to speak again but at that moment, Ron finally raised his head from his work and
slapped his quill down in anger.

"*Rubbish*!... Harry's not gonna die any more than I'm Quidditch captain! I
never see anything either!"

"Me neither," sounded a voice from the back of the room.

"Nor me," began Seamus Finnegan.

"I don't either," said Dean Thomas from somewhere in the middle.

Trelawny realized quickly that she was losing control of her class and decided to nip it in the
bud.

"Perhaps Mr. Weasley, you and Mr. Potter wish to sit out the rest of the class!" The
angrier the Professor got, the more she began to resemble a blowfish. "I saw *that*
coming, did you?"

Harry slumped down as far in his seat as he could without falling out, threw his head back and
sighed.

Ron was already at the door as Harry sat up and grabbed his books, but he couldn't resist
one last barb.

"Sure it's safe for me out there?" Harry deadpanned. The class exploded with
laughter.

"**OUT**!" Trelawny pointed at the door furiously.

As Harry and Ron walked out of the room they spotted Dumbledore talking to three distinguished
looking wizards and heading their way.

The wizards seemed to perk up particularly when Dumbledore, having spotted the two in the
hallway, pointed towards them and spoke.

Harry and Ron, knowing that the Headmaster would question why they weren't in class, turned
to slump away as quickly as possible.

"Harry, Ronald, one moment please." Dumbledore's pleasant scratchy old voice still
held a presence of command that stopped the two in their tracks.

"We've had it," whispered Ron stiffly.

Dumbledore and the three gentlemen approached and the headmaster smiled knowingly at the two.
"You haven't 'had it' quite yet Mr. Weasley. Whatever reason you two are lurking
in the hallways can wait for the moment... Harry, I'd like to introduce you to Mr. Ben Versval,
Mr. Angus Cornbluth, and Mr. Kard Starven, the three Quidditch recruiters from the
'Knights'."

As Dumbledore introduced the wizards with him, Ron secretly had to wonder how the Headmaster was
so gifted in certain things, like seeing through invisibility cloaks, and for the matter, hearing
whispers from far away. Great Wizards, he was powerful.

Harry shook hands with each recruiter in turn and quietly surveyed the three. He had a hard time
imagining in his young mind that they had ever played Quidditch, but reminded himself that Hogwarts
had been open for many, many years.

Versval, was a stuffy looking man, who shook Harry's hand firmly, but seemed to be sizing
him up starting at that very moment. His sharp gray eyes took in the younger man's entire form
in one instant, and he smiled rather forcedly. His paunchy stomach and generally out-of-shape form
indicated to Harry that it had been quite a while indeed since his Quidditch playing years.

"Nice to meet you Potter," he said stiffly, but not unkindly, "I've heard
much about you from the Headmaster. Good luck on Friday... but I daresay you won't need much of
it."

Harry nodded and his hand was snatched then by Cornbluth, who again seemed to take his job very
seriously, but seemed much less stiff than his counterpart.

"I agree," he began without a smile, but cordially, "Dumbledore tells us that you
catch the snitch nine times out of ten... an impressive record! We could very well use someone like
you on our team. Prescott, our seeker, has recently become a new father and is bowing out, so
we're currently looking to recruit. If you're worth it, we could stand another season of
temporary replacements until you graduate."

At this, Ron brightened and slapped Harry's back, grinning at about ten thousand watts.
"Lucky we're out here, huh?" he whispered.

The last to greet him was Starven, who moved towards the front of the little group and grinning
largely, pumped Harry's hand with vigor.

He was a shorter man, but powerfully built. His balding head and the few wrinkles that lined his
face showed that he was at least in his late forties, but he seemed still in shape and very
enthusiastic about his job.

The looks that the other recruiters shot his way told Harry that they weren't very impressed
with the man. In fact, they regarded him as somewhat of an overbearing personality. Harry would
tend to agree soon enough.

"So fine to meet you Harry," he began with a gap-toothed grin, "Headmaster
Dumbledore has been briefing us on all of our up and coming Quidditch players, but I had no idea
that one of them was the great Harry Potter!"

Harry felt that the man was a little too sincere and removed his hand as soon as it was polite
to do so. "I'm uh... not that great..."

"Modesty!" said Starven, slapping Harry on the back so hard he nearly stumbled down
the hall, "All the great ones have it..."

Dumbledore smiled briefly. "Yes, well... Harry, to explain... I'm taking the recruiters
around the school to familiarize them with our surroundings and to meet our team personally. This
way they will know your names and faces to talk to you after the game... if necessary." His
wizened blue eyes gave a great twinkle at his last statement.

Ron stared dumbfoundedly at the wizards. "Harry! This is great!...Getting to meet the
recruiters before the game! It's fate we're out here!" He grinned wildly and slapped
his friend on the back.

Harry secretly thought that the next one to slap him on the back was going to need a
magisplint.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled once again, this time at Ron. "Is it fate? Or would
Professor Trelawny have a different explanation in mind?"

Ron's smile wavered. "Uh, maybe..."

Once again, Starven pushed to the front of the little group, much to the annoyance of the other
wizards. He grinned arrogantly.

"Harry, one more thing... Could we have a look at that fabulous scar of yours? Being so
famous, I bet you get asked that a lot."

"Well, I'd rather not, really..." began Harry uneasily.

"Let's see then," said Starven, not listening. Reaching over, he pushed some of
Harry's unkempt locks from his forehead and leaned back, surveying him much as he would a new
quaffle and bludger set from Quality Quidditch Supplies.

The other two wizards, while embarrassed at their counterpart's lack of courtesy, were still
curious enough to stare covertly as well; all three oblivious to the irritation building on
Harry's face.

"Well, and there it is..." said Starven surveying him rather subjectively,
"Fabulous... just fabulous."

Harry's hand shot up and quickly pulled his hair down for cover. He rarely noticed the scar
anymore, nor did anyone else in the school for that matter, so it irritated him to no end to be
scrutinized like a piece of fascinating history.

His other hand, balled furiously into a fist, though he obviously wouldn't have used it, was
quickly captured by Ron, with a warning stomp to his foot.

If looks really could kill, Ron would have certainly been in trouble at that moment, but he
chose to ignore it, and stared ahead innocently. None of this went unnoticed by Dumbledore.

(Ahem) "Well gentlemen shall we move on? We've many more players to meet."

The wizards nodded amiably and began to follow the Headmaster, but Starven grabbed Harry's
hand again and pumped it once more. "Brilliant to have met you Mr. Potter..."

"Brilliant..." repeated Harry through clenched teeth. The set of his jaw and the flash
in his eyes were all too familiar to Ron.

Classrooms suddenly began filing out, with students milling past them, glancing strangely at the
wizard with Harry and Ron.

"Well, gotta go!" said Ron pulling Harry away from the firm grasp. "Can't be
late for lunch... Most important class of the day, you know!" He laughed uneasily.

Starven released Harry's hand and called after them as he walked to catch up to Dumbledore
and his fellow recruiters. "Goodbye, Harry! I've a feeling we'll be speaking a lot
more to each other."

"Don't count on it," said Harry under his breath, waving to Starven.

****************************************

Harry and Ron made their way towards the Great Hall amidst the mass of five hundred or so other
Hogwarts students headed the same way.

As they walked, Harry glanced over at Ron to see if he could detect whether Ron was still angry
or not. Finally, he decided to make absolutely sure and grabbed Ron's arm, pulling him
aside.

"Harry, I'm starving," Ron protested.

"Are you still upset? I want to get things straight with you now, before we see
Hermione..."

Ron sighed and stared down at the floor, shifting his books from one arm to the other.
"I'm not angry anymore, Harry. I just wish you and 'Mione would trust me a little
more..." He ran a hand through his bright red hair, reminiscent of Harry. "To tell you
the truth, I'm more worried than mad... If something goes sour between you two, all three of us
get involved, you know? Things might not ever be the same..."

He might have continued, but just then someone shoved between the two, barreling into them so
hard that Ron's books were knocked from his hands.

"Hey!" began Ron angrily, "What the bloody hell..."

But Harry had stumbled back and found himself face to face with a flushed and very irate Malfoy.
Both straightened up almost reflexively at the sight of each other and glared fiercely.

Malfoy took a step closer to Harry and came almost nose to nose with him. "If I were you
*Potter*, I'd keep a closer watch on the mudblood..." his jaw clenched angrily,
"and on the poor church mouse there." He nodded Ron's way before continuing. "If
either of them ever try a stunt like that again, or you for that matter, I'll pay you back so
hard you'll wish you'd never even *met* me."

Harry took a step forward forcing Draco to take a step back and patted him roughly on the cheek.
"How's the jaw?" he smirked viciously. Cocking his head to one side, he glanced at
Ron who had finally picked up all of his things. "Hermione must throw one bloody hell of a
punch, aye Ron?"

Ron grinned and nodded, raising an eyebrow and glancing ever so subtly at Malfoy's
jawline.

Reflexively, Malfoy raised a hand to his cheek where a nice large welt would soon be turning
into a bruise. He threw withering glares Harry and Ron's way and began to walk away toward the
Slytherin table, but not before warning Harry again. "Remember what I said
*scarhead*."

Ron couldn't help but twist the knife, just a little. "So Harry!" he yelled with
the obvious intention of letting the whole school hear, "About what we were talking about, how
exactly *does* it feel to be punched by a girl?"

Harry grinned, catching on. "Wouldn't know... Never been! We *could* ask Malfoy
though... something tells me he's an expert!"

A fair number of students caught on to the joke and turned Draco's way, some snickering,
some wondering when Malfoy had gotten himself punched.

Malfoy stopped mid-stride and whipped around, causing students to bump into one another to stay
out of his way. They scowled at him, muttering as they passed.

For a moment, he merely glared at the two, and then stomped back to them. Since Harry and Ron
were now side by side, Draco took the opportunity to stand face to face with both, but addressed
Harry.

"Watch your back at the game Friday, Potter." If Harry and Ron hadn't been right
in front of him, they mightn't have been able to hear the low threatening words.
"Sometimes those bludgers get knocked off course and go straight for someone else. Funny how
that happens, don't you think?"

Harry smiled back at him humorlessly with a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Are you
threatening me? Because that wouldn't be wise..."

Ron breathed in furiously, about ready to finish what Hermione had started earlier when she
suddenly came walking up; oblivious at first to Malfoy. Her smile fell dramatically when she saw
him, obviously enjoying a show-down with Ron and Harry.

"*Oh hi*," she said rather loudly and drolly.

Malfoy turned his sneer on her and opened his mouth to speak.

"How's the cheek, by the way?" Hermione interjected, "I'm so
*awfully* sorry! I don't know *what* came over me. Does it hurt much?... Looks like
it..."

Draco clenched his jaw and the rest of his face turned as red as the welt. He took a bullying
stomp towards Hermione, but when she didn't flinch, he turned, trying to put on a disaffected
air.

"Remember Potter, threats are only threats until they're made good on..." Then he
turned a snotty look toward Ron and acknowledged him with a pompous lift of his chin.
"Weasel.."

He smiled mirthlessly then, fire sparkling in his eyes, and finally headed back to
Slytherin's table.

Both Ron and Harry smiled affectionately at Hermione. No one could put a guy back in his place
quite like her.

She shook her head in Malfoy's direction and turned back to them. "What was all that
about, then?"

"Just rubbish," sighed Harry irritably.

Ron grinned lopsidedly and threw an arm around his two friends. "...think you hurt his
ego," he said leaning his head towards Hermione, but glancing at Malfoy at his table,
"You really do throw one bloody hell of a punch."

"Really!" Hermione rolled her eyes and began leading them towards the Gryffindor
table. "Well honestly! Just because I'm a girl means I'm not supposed to be able to
flatten someone..." She plopped down at the table with Harry beside her and Ron opposite
them.

Ron began to eat.

"Well I wouldn't want you mad at *me*," Harry grinned and playfully pinched
Hermione on the cheek. Hermione smiled slightly and slapped his hand away.

"Ow!"

"Don't give me any reason to be."

Harry smiled impishly at her but caught a look at Ron at the same time Hermione did.

Ron had sombered, and ate his soup and sandwich quietly, concentrating a lot harder, it seemed,
than needed. Immediately, Hermione's face fell. She reached an arm over to Ron and took hold of
his wrist.

Ron stopped eating at the touch and blinking once, turned his gaze up to meet theirs.

"Ron..."

"I'm all right 'Mione," he began, sighing. "It's just..."

He placed his forehead on his palm, staring down at the table for a moment. "Will...will
you both promise me something..." It was more a demand than a request.

"Of course! Anything Ron..." began Hermione earnestly.

Ron held up a hand for her to wait, and looked up. "Promise me that whatever happens with
you two that we will always be friends," he looked almost harshly at both of them, "and
this won't turn us, like...*wierd*...with each other, all right?"

"'Course not!" began Harry, almost as if the thought were ludicrous. "Ron how
could you think that..."

"'Cause I've seen it before!" said Ron. "Remember Seamus and Dean and
Lavender? Dean and Lavender began dating and then Seamus was slowly out of the picture...Then when
those two broke up, none of their friendships were the same!"

"Ron, it won't be like that with us," began Hermione, squeezing Ron's arm. She
brought her other hand over to rest on Harry's arm as well. "We've been through too
much together. All of us...We're a team."

Harry turned to Ron and nodded, giving Ron's other arm a boyish squeeze. Hermione looked
back and forth between them and began tearing up. Harry noticed and began to grin.

"Oh,n... *Hermione! Dry up!*" Ron wailed, rolling his eyes and letting his
shoulders fall. "Look, we're just eating here! It's just a sandwich... see? The
soup's not *that* bad Hermione!" He yelled loud enough for all of the Great Hall to
hear.

Hermione ducked quickly and swiping a tear from her cheek, reached over and punched Ron in the
shoulder.

***********************************

Defense Against the Dark Arts went quickly for the three, with Malfoy, seated along with Crabbe
and Goyle, shooting murderous looks their way almost the entire time. The whole classroom seemed to
feel the tension, especially the new teacher, who had been a graduate with high honors from
Beauxbatons about ten years prior. It was an understatement to say that Misseur de Voncrey, who
moved to England for the experience of a new country, was having to get used to the new school, and
the differences between French and English witches and wizards.

His students in particular, had far different ways of dealing with feuds between one another.
For example, de Voncrey never remembered having to deal with a student trying to hex another
student in the middle of class, but that was precisely what he had caught Draco Malfoy doing, and
no less, to a girl.

As soon as he had detected the unrelenting eye contact and mutterings under his breath from
Malfoy, he had strode over to the Slytherin's desk and snatched his wand away from him, sending
him out to the hallway to cool off.

No matter how much the English were supposed to be known for their coolness and aloofness, the
Professor was beginning to learn differently. The English, while proper by most standards, were
from his point of view, most definitely hotheads.

Granger, for her part, seemed surprised that Malfoy would try something in class, and her eyes
widened accordingly when Draco was upbraided in front of the whole student body and told to sit out
the rest of the period.

Malfoy didn't seem to mind though. Apparently, the thought that the other student knew what
he had been trying was enough to drive his point home. It wasn't a particularly dangerous hex,
but enough to give the recipient a particularly bad stomach sickness that could put them in the
infirmary for a couple of days. Payback, it seemed.

*English*... sighed de Voncrey.

*************************************

Wanting to avoid another run in with Malfoy after class, Harry, Ron and Hermione hurried quickly
outside towards Hagrid's hut, where behind it, in a makeshift barn, he would be teaching Care
of Magical Creatures. They needn't have hurried though; Malfoy didn't show.

The giant lumbered out of his hut just in time to see the three Gryffindors trot up. "Well!
'Lo 'arry! 'ermione, Ron... Got a special treat fer ya today."

Hagrid's eyes lit up as the rest of the class joined the three. Sixth year Gryffindors, some
of Hufflepuff, and Slytherin all held class together this period.

After scanning the crowd, Hagrid noticed with his characteristically sharp eyes that one student
was missing.

"Where's Draco Malfoy then...better be a good excuse. Today's class's
particularly important."

His eyes narrowed as he took in the forms of Crabbe and Goyle, trying unsuccessfully to hide in
the back of the crowd. For Goyle, that was like a hippogriff trying to hide behind a flag pole.

"You two then!" bellowed Hagrid, though not unkindly.

Crabbe and Goyle turned around slowly and looked at Hagrid while trying to swallow the lump of
fear in their throats. It didn't bode well to lie to a giant, even one as gentle as Hagrid, so
they opted for the truth.

"He's gone up to see Madame Pomfrey," said Crabbe.

"Madame Pomfrey?" Hagrid replied, "Wha's the boy gone and done ta 'imself
now?'

"Done by another!" Goyle spoke up, "His face is starting to... well it's sort
of, turning a bit purple."

"*Purple*!?"

"A bit..."

"Just at the jaw area..." finished Crabbe, "Well it's... it's a
bruise."

The two Slytherin looked down at the ground as if they'd just broken a great confidence. The
class began to snicker, and at the word 'bruise', Hermione's eyes widened and she
coughed suddenly, hiding a small smile.

"A bruise ain' nothin'!" began Hagrid as he turned to lead the class towards
the barn, "Woulda' healed on its own soon enough..."

"He didn't want anyone noticin', I guess..." began Seamus Finnegan with a
laugh, "No pride in bein' walloped by a girl."

Hagrid turned then, confused. "A girl!?"

The class stopped suddenly, bumping into one another with the sudden halt.

"It was..." began Seamus, but a murderous look from the much bigger, much meaner Goyle
stopped him. "Um... an accident," Seamus finished, flinching as Goyle took a ham-sized
fist and punched it into his other hand, pointing at him.

Hagrid didn't seem to notice. "Hmm... ah well, ain' no harm I guess, but you
two'll 'ave to get 'im up to speed on this lesson," Hagrid pointed in Crabbe and
Goyle's general direction.

The giant stopped at the entrance of the barn, where there stood four large crates. From inside,
a shrieking noise emitted that caused most of the class to take an involuntary step backward. When
sparks began escaping out of the corners of the boxes, they stepped away even further.

For most, COMC class was not their favorite. Hagrid's idea of a magnificent creature usually
involved something scary and potentially harmful.

"Hagrid, please don't let those be blast-ended skrewts again!" pleaded Dean
Thomas, who had gotten a particularly nasty burn from one he had tried to round up a couple of
years ago in Hagrid's class.

"Nope, 'taint them," said Hagrid, grinning and slapping the top one of the crates.
The creatures inside seemed to dislike the jostling that gave them and began shrieking and sparking
even more.

Hagrid dipped his head slightly to the side and sighed. "Now come on, get closer. Don'
be afraid. I wouldn' get ya anythin' ta work on tha' would really cause ya
'arm."

He lifted a small crow bar and wedged open one of the box sides, letting it fall to the ground
with a loud thud.

Harry, Hermione and Ron stepped closer, mouths` gaping open.

Inside the crate were three two foot tall rock shaped creatures, with leash and cable on each
one. If forced to describe them, Harry would've said they looked like knee-high dragons with
rock scales. When completely still, they could pass rather well for medium sized boulders. But
unfortunately, these were far from still. On the contrary, they seemed to be quite agitated at the
moment; all three able only to fly about one foot from the ground with their tiny wings, and
producing streams of sparks from their nostrils.

Their small wrinkly faces and long snouts, Ron noticed, were full of tiny, potentially harmful
teeth.

Hagrid grinned even larger and sighed, enraptured. "Ain' they wunnerful...Mighty cute
they are."

He squatted to scratch one under the chin, and the creature in turn, nipped Hagrid's finger
hard enough to make him howl and pull it back quickly. He sucked on it and glanced at the creature
reproachfully.

"A bit outta sorts righ' now..."

Hermione stumbled back into Harry and Ron as one pulled on its leash and snapped its small teeth
at her.

"Hagrid, what *are* those?" began Hermione, pulling her arms in reflexively.

Hagrid gaped at her, and seeing that the rest of the class was just as ignorant, he began his
lesson. "Them!? Them are Flame Drocks!... Ya mean in all th' time you' been at
'ogwarts ya ne'er been taught 'bout these!?"

"Think I'd remember," said Ron, yanking a close limb away from a particularly
grumpy one.

"What're they for?" asked Harry, pulling Hermione farther back from the
crates.

"*For*!?" began Hagrid reproachfully, "They're creatures 'arry...
They exis' 'cause they do; jus' like you an' me. But if you're meanin'
what're we learnin''em for..." Hagrid's eyes narrowed as if he were about to
divulge a great secret, but he spoke loud enough for the whole class to hear.

"Well, they're a lot like reg'lar dragons, see, but when they breathe fire, th'
ash tha's lef' from whate'er they burn can be made into a pow'rful medicinal
draught. Good fer sicknesses, superficial wounds and the like."

"But why..." began Seamus.

"But why can tha ash be used?" Hagrid cut in excitedly as if knowing what Seamus was
going to ask. Actually, Seamus was going to ask why they had to actually *handle* them.

"I's 'cause a their diet!" Hagrid answered his own question. "See, Flame
Drocks on'y eat macurel slugs, which..."

Hermione's eyes widened brightly. "Macurel slugs! I know about them! I read it in
*Magical Insects and Cures*! The macurel slug lives off of the hardrake bush, which in itself
holds no medicinal power, but when combined with the digestive system of the macurel slug, it has
the power to heal! Well...some things." Hermione began to inch wonderingly closer to the
drocks. "Hagrid, is that why macurel slugs glow?"

Harry again grabbed Hermione's arm and pulled her back with a warning glance.

"Tha's righ' Hermione!" Hagrid began, obviously excited that someone found his
class as interesting as he did. "And tha's also why th' Flame Drocks can breathe fire
like normal dragons. Th' glow slug diet gives 'em somewha' of an 'incandescen'
heartburn' ya could say."

"Well fascinating," said Ron rather dryly, "So, what's our chore?"

"Well, they ain' been fed yet today," Hagrid began, "So I wan' all of ya
ta split up into teams an' pick three people from yer teams ta walk 'em so's they can
grub. Take 'em roun' rocks and boulders ta find the macurels. The slugs usually hide there.
Tha's also why Flame Drocks have their wunnerful rock hide camouflage. When they sit really
still an' th' macurel slugs glide up, i's lunchtime." Hagrid finished with
glee.

The giant grinned wildly with expectation as he watched the teams of six choose who would be the
three lucky walkers.

In actuality there was much arguing about filling these roles, as no one wanted to
volunteer.

"You do it Harry," began Seamus, pushing him forward, "You're a *great*
*wizard*."

"*Shove off*," replied Harry in annoyance. "How 'bout you Dean? You were
good with the mandrakes." He pushed Dean forward.

"Mandrakes are in Herbology, and they can't burn you..." said Dean, stepping back
again.

"They shriek like mandrakes," said Ron, shoving Dean forward again.

"How about Neville?" said Parvarti Patil, grabbing Longbottom's arm,
"He's good in Herbology too..."

Neville's eyes widened as he took a step back. "I can't even control my
frog!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh bloody hell!" She marched forward and grabbed a leash,
pulling one forward. As it was too hungry to think about the person leading it, the drock just
began pulling her along, heading toward the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where there were plenty
of rocks and boulders that served as a sort of visible line not to cross. "I'll take one,
Harry you and Ron take the other two. For pete's sake..." Her voice trailed off as she
walked.

Ron rolled his eyes and threw up his hands. "Well, c'mon Harry."

Both boys grabbed a leash, keeping it as far away from their bodies as their arm lengths would
allow.

"Tha's the spirit!" cried Hagrid happily, "You others, if'n a drock turns
any plant ta ash, take these jars an' fill 'em with it. Madame Pomfrey'll be glad ta
refill her stock."

Several students fought each other and rushed forward to be the lucky ones to carry the jars.
Hagrid frowned. No one ever seemed to volunteer in his class.

After a few minor burns, much slug eating by the drocks, and a few gathered ash piles, class was
finally over. The Flame Drocks, having finally been returned to Hagrid's barn, seemed happier
with full bellies. In sleep, Hermione noted with wonder, they looked so much like boulders that it
would have been really hard to pick them out had they not had a class on them.

Having turned in the four or five jars of ashes to Hagrid that were collected, the class was
dismissed. It was four o'clock, which left two hours before dinner.

Ron and Hermione planned to sit in the Gryffindor common room and study for the OWL finals, but
Harry had Quidditch practice.

Quickly they made it back to the school and through the halls, with still no sign or run in with
Malfoy, much to their relief.

"Chocolate frogs," said Harry to the portrait of the fat lady.

She sniffed condescendingly and swung open for them.

Harry squeezed Hermione's hand quickly and took the stairs two at a time to change into his
uniform. He knew he still had a few minutes before practice, but wanted to sit down for a while
first.

He descended a few minutes later in his signature long red cloak, form fitting khaki colored
pants, black knee boots, and knee and wrist pads, dragging the Firebolt 2004 that Sirius had given
him last year behind him.

Hermione secretly thought that Harry never looked sexier than when he was in that uniform. She
had to avert her eyes to keep him from seeing what she was thinking.

Colin Creevey, a short, skinny, mouse-like fourth year who had idolized Harry from the moment he
met him, had been hanging out in a corner of the common room until Harry emerged.

Being his biggest fan, and the unofficial photographer for the school paper, Colin took the
opportunity to photograph Harry blind as he headed for the overstuffed chairs in front of the
hearth where Ron and Hermione sat.

Harry shielded his eyes from the flashes, and being at least a foot taller than the fourth year,
he picked Creevey up by the shoulders and set him to the side, continuing on to a chair and dumping
himself down. He looked extremely annoyed, which delighted Ron to no end.

"Harry he just admires you," began Hermione.

"It's annoying!"

"Ah, the price of fame..." smirked Ron as Colin came walking around Harry's
chair.

"Shove off..." Harry shot back.

Colin stepped in front of his chair. "Sorry, Harry! I just wanted to get a couple of
pictures of you headed to practice the day before the big game." He then whipped out a small
notepad, and pencil from behind his ear.

"So, feel confident about the match tomorrow?"

Harry lifted an eyebrow and glanced drolly back at the younger boy. "Colin, I thought you
were just the photographer..."

"Sometimes they let me do small interviews!" replied Colin excitedly, "Especially
when it's one I really want! I asked specifically for this one..."

Harry saw Hermione give him an "Aw Harry, let him" look and favored her with a
lopsided grin.

Hermione read the resigned look on his face and grinned at him, turning back to her
studying.

Harry also caught Ron mouthing something that looked suspiciously like "You're
whipped" at him and scowled accordingly. Ron grinned down at his book.

Hermione may have been trying to concentrate on her upcoming tests, but her eyes kept
unavoidably gliding over to Harry, seated in front of the hearth. His shock of dark brown hair was
mussed even more from his quick changing, and the questions from Colin kept bringing amused grins
to his face.

She saw the sharp outline of muscles underneath the uniform, and couldn't help but notice
his tall, lean form as he slumped carelessly in the chair.

Once Harry caught her eyeing him past Colin and lifted his eyebrows, giving her a quick
grin.

She blushed furiously and scowled halfway between a return grin. It irked her sometimes that he
could make her feel that way, but she noticed that the return gaze was an appreciative one.

Finally, Colin snapped his notebook shut and replaced the pencil behind his ear. "Thanks a
lot Harry! I'll be rooting for you tomorrow!"

Hermione and Ron watched as he climbed happily up the stairs to the boys dorms, undoubtedly to
begin writing his article.

Hermione turned back to Harry.

"That was really sweet, I..."

"*Oh yes* Harry, that was *awfully* sweet," Ron cut in with a silly high
voice. He stood, trying to keep a grin off of his face and wiggled his hips over to Harry.
"You sure look *big and strong* in that uniform...I...I'm really attracted to you
right now."

Harry rolled his eyes and backed away with a smirk. "Ron..."

"Don't you want to give me just one little kiss? It won't take long..." Ron
squealed and threw his arms around Harry.

"*Get off!*" Harry laughed, shoving Ron aside.

Ron landed in a heap on the couch, laughing so hard that his cheeks hurt.

Hermione, her cheeks burning, replied by punching Ron in the side. "Funny, Ron. You big
git." But she couldn't hide her smile.

Harry was a little red.

"Enjoy it Potter?" Ron guffawed in between breaths. Other Gryffindors across the room
were snickering as well.

Harry flushed and swiped his hair back a little nervously.

"Ok, well... gotta go... See you at dinner!" He snatched Hermione's hand and gave
her a quick peck on the cheek before grabbing his broom and heading for the portrait door.

"What, none for me!?" Ron squealed.

"*Shut it, Ron*," Harry threw back at him and let the door slam behind him.

*****************************************



3. Chapter 3
------------

Chapter 3

Harry sauntered out towards the Quidditch field, intending to find only his fellow team members,
but was greeted again by the three recruiters who would be choosing candidates at tomorrow’s
game.

"Well, hello again, Mr. Potter," beamed a much more amiable Mr. Versval. Apparently,
watching the teams practice was bringing back a little of the old excitement for the three wizards.
"We're most anxious to see your team in action... Nice broom! A Firebolt 2004; nice model.
May I see it?"

Harry shrugged. "Sure, of course."

Oliver Wood, Harry's former Quidditch captain eyed him from the top of the Gryffindor sides
tower as he peered down, scanning the field.

"Oy Potter!"

Harry heard the voice from above him and squinted up to see Wood leaning out of the tower.

"You're late!" continued Wood, "C'mon, we only have the field for an hour
before Slytherin gets it!"

Harry sighed. "I'll be up in a minute," he called out. He wasn't late... Wood
was always early.

Wood had come back to Hogwarts after he graduated to take Madame Hootches' place as overseer
of the game, but also took it upon himself, with the encouragement of McGonnagol, to continue to be
the coach for Gryffindor. Not that Harry minded; Wood was the best keeper Harry had seen in his six
years, and he knew the game well. But Oliver could be a bit demanding. He breathed, slept, and ate
Quidditch, and as a result, it made him a bit overbearing.

Harry turned back to see that Cornbluth was now fingering his broom lovingly.

"Ah, Harry, how I envy you. I used to be quite the Quidditch player myself... A beater, I
was... From Ravenclaw. We were the best team back then."

Harry took in his gray, slightly balding head and wrinkles and secretly marveled that Hogwarts
had been around for that long. In reality, Hogwarts had been around for a thousand years or more,
which he might've known, had he read *Hogwarts, a History* as thoroughly as Hermione
had.

Gingerly, Harry took his broom back. "Well, I'd better get up there before Wood wets
himself," he grinned. He turned and straddled his broom.

Starven had been unusually quiet, having been eyeing the playing field and surrounding grounds
for a while. He snapped his gaze back to Harry right before he kicked off, startled as he'd
been lost in thought.

"Well good luck Harry!" he grinned, flashing the gap in his teeth and slapping
Harry's back amiably, "We're all looking forward to seeing what kind of seeker you
are."

Harry kicked off from the ground. "Yeah, me too," he joked half-heartedly.

Up in the tower, Wood gave Harry a stern look as he glided in the doorway and tossed himself
lightly from his broom. Oliver immediately began addressing the whole team.

Fred and George Weasley, being in their last year at Hogwarts, were eager to go out with a bang
and beat the pants off of Slytherin in the process, but as usual, lacked the discipline to stand
still for long to hear Wood's speech. They were supposed to have graduated the year before, but
much to their parents shame, hadn't had the O.W.L.s to do so. Harry remembered well the reaming
Molly Weasley had given them for paying more attention to their plans for the joke shop than to
their studies, and inwardly winced. He hoped for their sakes that there wouldn't be a repeat of
that this year, much as he was glad to still have them on Gryffindor's Quidditch team.

As the team listened to Wood eagerly explaining his latest strategies, Harry took a moment to
thoughtfully survey his fellow players.

Not many of the original team players from his first year were left, save George and Fred, the
beaters. Most of the others had graduated, and some had opted to devote more time to studies. There
was the keeper, Michelle Keys, the only girl on the team this year. She was tall and strongly
built, with reddish brown hair, and a smattering of freckles on her cheeks. Harry thought she was
close to becoming as good a keeper as Oliver had been, probably due to the fact that Wood took time
specifically with her to make *sure* she was. Fred and George teased Wood mercilessly about
this, but Harry knew better. Wood had been dating Alicia Spinnet, a former chaser on the team, ever
since he graduated.

There was also Marcus Wallaby, Peter Gallor and Darren Millhouse, all chasers. Marcus and Peter
were both fifth years, and very good at capturing the quaffle and hanging on to it. They were best
friends, and had been thrilled at both getting picked for the team back in their third year.

Darren, a fourth year, was a fast learner. He had been told to watch Gallor and Wallaby in
action, and had learned accordingly.

And of course there was himself, finally. Harry had been seeker since his first year at
Hogwarts. Back then, the youngest seeker in the school in a century; Ron had informed him.

Harry snapped his attention back to Wood, and in the process saw George and Fred quietly trying
to offer Marcus a piece of ton-tongue toffee.

Wallaby, having been pre-warned about the twins, and their intention to open "Weasley's
Wizard Wheezes" joke shop after graduation, immediately suspected them and waved his hand at
them, stepping back at the same time.

The twins looked a little peeved that their plan hadn't worked. Lately one of their favorite
pastimes was not only tricking fellow students, but hacking off Wood. Having one of his team
players flying with two feet of engorged tongue flapping in the breeze behind him would've done
it.

Not missing a beat, Oliver snatched the toffee and tossed it out of the exit way, causing an
outburst from Fred and George.

"What'd you go and do that for!?" Fred began angrily, "we only have a few of
those left!"

"Honestly Wood, you're no fun anymore," said George.

"Did you hear *anything* I said!?" began Wood rather hotly. He tried to calm
himself down. "Look, you guys and Potter more than anyone else here should be thinking about
this game! Sixth and seventh years are the ones the recruiters are looking at and you're on
about that stupid thousand pound caramel!"

"Ton-tongue toffee," corrected George, "Get it right."

Wood sighed irritably. "Look do you care about the game or not!?"

"Sure...sure. Sorry Oliver. Go on..." said Fred, shifting to his other leg.

Wood threw his arms up in defeat. "Well I'm done anyway. You're all great players
and you know what to do... Ok. Let's do it."

The team members all mounted their brooms, and at a word from Wood they all shot out from the
tower and soaring high, began to circle the field.

Wood climbed down from the tower and walked towards the Quidditch game chest he had left on the
ground near the gate surrounding the field. He found it surrounded not only by the three
recruiters, but by a throng of reporters from the *Daily Prophet* and the witches magazine
*Witch Weekly*. He winced inwardly. He had talked with Dumbledore and McGonnagol just a few
days ago about restricting the press until the day of the game. He knew that this particular game
would be covered because of the importance the recruiters brought in possibly choosing their newest
players from Hogwarts, but he had hoped that the coverage could wait. Dumbledore explained that the
press had specifically asked to be there the day before the game to get before and after shots of
the players, as well as interviews with them and the recruiters. All the same, Wood didn't like
it. He wanted his player's minds on the game, and not on getting famous. He also didn't
want his own attention diverted.

As he wove his way towards the chest, he was immediately set upon by the reporters, their camera
men, and enchanted floating microphones.

"Mr. Wood, how do you feel about the match tomorrow?"

Wood blinked furiously at the flashes half blinding him.

"Um, confidant... 'scuse me..."

"Oliver, is your team ready for the Slytherin rematch? Word is that Slytherin has really
been practicing hard to make up for last year..."

"We have too...I really have to get to the field."

"One moment, Mr. Wood... Is it true that Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived, is still
Gryffindor's seeker?... Do you feel his extra-ordinary powers lend more support than normal for
your team? Is there anyone on your team this year that stands out to you?"

"Do you or anyone you know ever fear an attack from You-Know-Who because of
Potter?"

"How *is* he holding up owing to the recent disclosure that Vol... that HE is on the
move again?"

This caught Wood's attention and he halted so quickly that the two reporters ran into
him.

"*What'd you mean 'on the move again'?* I haven't heard this! What
the... Harry!"

Potter heard his name as he circled the field and began to dip lower to meet Wood on the
ground.

The reporters, seeing they might get an opportunity to speak to Potter, scrambled to catch up to
Wood as he carried the chest onto the field.

"Harry! No wait, I'll come up there! Hang on!...No, no more questions. I'm
done." Wood directed the last comments to the reporters, and they stopped with a defeatist
manner.

"Wait Mr. Wood, just a few more..."

"NO!" Wood dropped the chest with a thud and kicked it open, letting the bludgers and
snitch dart up into the ring. He then picked up the quaffle and tossed it up.

Fred caught it and zoomed away with it. Marcus, being on the opposite team began giving chase,
narrowly missing a bludger.

"Go ahead and start!" Wood yelled up to the team, "I only need Harry for a
moment!" He mounted his broom and zoomed up high, just outside of the field where Harry
hovered, waiting.

The reporters sighed. No more questions meant shorter news columns.

The wind whipped his and Harry's robes as they hovered together.

"Um...Oliver, I don't think I was that late," said Harry rubbing behind his
ear.

"..Not what this is about Harry," began Oliver darkly, "Have you heard any
reports about movement from Voldemort or any dark wizards lately?"

"*What?*" Harry was so surprised that he nearly fell off of his broom. "NO!
Of course not! It's been a long time since his last attack, Wood..."

"The reporters down there seem to think he's on the move again," said Oliver, as
usual getting to the point. "I know this might not be the best time to talk to you about it,
but I thought you'd want to know."

Harry shook his head, trying to get his thoughts re-ordered. "Dumbledore would've told
me if anything had been confirmed... And if Voldemort or anyone working for him were anywhere near,
I'd probably know about it." He rubbed his scar absently, knowing that Wood knew what he
meant.

"...Could just be rumor," began Oliver again, "You know there's been a lot of
that lately, since it's been so long since he's made a move. But usually the *real*
press don't mention it if it is. It's not like that's *Astrology* *Monthly*
down there."

Harry nodded, feeling more than a little perplexed. If it was rumor, then they had nothing to
worry about. Then again if it was true, why hadn't his scar hurt? It usually took the dark lord
or one of his lackeys to be near in order for him to feel it, so at least he knew that there
wasn't anyone dark on school grounds. And most certainly Dumbledore would've notified him
of anything, as it usually involved him.

Harry informed Oliver of such, and both decided not to worry until or if anything was
confirmed.

"All right... but just keep an eye out," finished Wood, "and you'd do well to
keep an eye out for those close to you too."

"I know..." Harry replied with a grave nod. He knew all too well.

Harry joined practice as Wood flew back to the Gryffindor tower to watch, and also to avoid the
press down below. It was five forty-five, and dusk had begun to settle owing to the late fall
season. So, as it was darker, and the crowd either watched the practice, or talked amongst
themselves, no one noticed as one person slipped away, gathered a broom he had stolen from the
Quidditch lockers, and walking far enough away from the crowd, mounted it, heading deep into the
heart of the Forbidden Forest.

**************************************



4. Chapter 4
------------

Chapter 4

The broom rider quaked inwardly as he made his way deeper and deeper through the dark trees and
underbrush, intending to pass completely through the Forbidden Forest and continue on into the even
darker and more forbidding Forest of Kavan. Ever since the student from Slytherin house named
Stuart Kavan rode into the forest in 1959 and never re-emerged, the forest, aptly re-named Kavan,
was strictly off limits.

In fact, the rider knew, from then on the students at Hogwarts were never told of the separate
forests' existence, probably owing to the fact that they weren't even allowed into the
Forbidden Forest, much less beyond that. It would have been too tempting to reveal that type of
information.

As far as today's students knew, the Forbidden Forest was the only forest off of Hogwarts
grounds. In fact, Kavan began right where Hogwarts ended and stretched some twenty miles
further.

The rider hoped to himself that he would keep from coming across any dangerous creatures on his
journey. He knew of the strange creatures that existed here from his years at Hogwarts. Centaurs,
giant spiders, unicorns, flame drocks... he had no wish to run into any of these, or any others.
After all... he was headed to meet the most dangerous, evil creature there was. He didn't need
any more trouble than that.

The thought of his upcoming meeting and debriefing with his lord Voldemort made the man quake
with fear. If he could, he would finally leave the dark lord, but Voldemort didn't take
defection lightly. The man had been found by the dark lord long ago, and rather than be killed, had
decided to join him, out of fear as much as out of a feeling of being drawn to the power and
mystery that he had, and the fact that if joined with him, he might have that same power. After
joining, the dark lord had offered him the position of right hand man, should he complete his tasks
with no mistakes; and so far, he had. But his final one, delivering Harry Potter, off of school
grounds for that matter, was going to prove to be a lot harder than Voldemort realized. Harry was
well protected and well on his way to becoming a powerful wizard.

The servant had been with Voldemort almost from the beginning, even back when he was only
referred to as Tom Riddle. He knew almost just as much history of Harry Potter as the dark lord
did. He remembered the fateful day the dark lord had killed young Harry's parents, and returned
to him bodiless, to recant the story to him of the backfire his killing curse had caused when
directed towards James and Lily's baby. At that point, the servant had left him for a time,
only made possible by Voldemort's weakened state, being afraid that the same fate would befall
him. But years later, he had returned. Most likely, the dark lord hadn't killed him because at
that point, the man was the only one he had, and he was needed. And now, here he was, on his
greatest mission yet, to help the dark lord finally rid himself of Potter. But one must know their
prey to catch them, and he had needed to catch up on young Potter; see how he'd grown and what
he was like. He was certain that no one suspected him, and that no one would.

*My lord*, he thought, *Harry will prove to be a difficulty* *adversary...*

He thought back to a brief conversation he had recently had with one of Harry's enemies at
the school. He had caught a boy Potter's age, name of Malfoy, headed to a class that he had
missed most of, due to an injury he was having seen with the school's nurse. He had stopped the
boy to speak with him for a moment; he had been stopping many of the children Harry's age to
glean information from them about him; his personality, his weaknesses and strengths, his habits,
his likes and dislikes. He thought back to the latter question that he had asked the
platinum-haired boy and recalled the look of utter hatred that had passed over his features.

*******(Memory)*******

"Are you a reporter or something!?" Malfoy asked, still holding his cheek from an
apparent wound that had recently been healed, "I can tell you one thing... the scarhead has a
thing for Muggle mud-bloods... disgusting." He chuckled at his own cleverness and continued.
"He'll probably be so busy thinking about Granger that the snitch'll punch him right
in the eye before he knows it's in front of him... filthy little Muggle lover..."

"Granger?" the man asked Malfoy.

"Hermione Granger," Malfoy said through gritted teeth, taking one last rub at his
cheek, "Scarhead's girlfriend. Just look for the three bloody Gryffindor musketeers...
*losers*."

The man mentally nodded and filed the name away, smiling to himself. "Tell me more about
them...him."

"Potter's not the only bloody Quidditch player!" Malfoy obviously felt insulted.
"There's thirteen others playing too! Now *Slytherin's* worth discussing,
like..."

"Thank you Draco," the man replied, "You've been most helpful."

At that he left Malfoy slack-jawed in fury and walked away. Potter was the only one he was
interested in, and not for bloody Quidditch.

*******(End Memory)*******

The broom rider stopped his reverie long enough to realize that he was passing into Kavan. The
only thing separating this forest from the Forbidden one was a long stretch of barbed wire. Curious
that the teachers so long ago had decided to use Muggle fencing to separate the two.

Immediately the dark, frightening surroundings of the Forbidden Forest gave way to a darker,
more sinister feeling. The forest itself was even less lit, partly due to the closer proximity of
the trees, and because it had the almost physical aura of a dark past. Or was it just who was
residing here now?

The trees were so dense at the trunks and thick overhead with branches that barely any moonlight
shone through. Even the moss and fungus that grew there seemed thicker and darker.

A feeling of dread began to blanket the rider. The forest was so quiet and eerie now. At least
in the Forbidden Forest you had the feeling that animals lived there and that the plants were alive
and growing.

Kavan felt dead and deserted. The trees had long ago begun dying, and were now more or less just
a mass of knarled and twisted limbs without leaves. It was as if anything that used to live there
had abandoned it after some dark dealing. In fact, the forest had once thrived, back when it was
still part of the Forbidden forest. But after the disappearance of young Stuart in '59, the
whole place began to mourn. Something evil had taken hold. Even the plants were now dying;
something about the imbalance of the environment now that all the animals and even the bugs had
either left it, or died.

The servant shuddered. In the darkness ahead, he made out the medium-sized cabin that had been
finished for his master some three months ago. There Voldemort had bidden his time with only his
pet snake, Nagini for company, until his servant could find a way to get into Hogwarts, get
information about Potter, and return to tell him.

The rider knew that Voldemort felt his approach. He always knew when his own approached.

The man panicked as he hopped from his broom. Was it too late to run? Why was he drawn to
Voldemort, but at the same time repulsed? Could he still escape?

"Enter." The high-pitched throaty voice of Voldemort called from inside the cabin.

*Too late... too late to run...* The dark lord's voice had held a presence of command
over him ever since the day he joined him so long ago. There was no escape now.

Shakily, he felt his hand turn the knob of the door as if he were outside his body, watching
himself.

The first sight that greeted him was Nagini's long fat form, curled into a target shape,
asleep by the hearth of an unusually hot fireplace. The fire, of course, was lit by dark magic and
the flames glowed an iridescent blue.

At first, all the man could do was stare ahead. He willed himself to move forward, but his body
wouldn't obey. He stared a hole into the back of his master's chair.

"Come and face me, idiot."

The voice was to the servant like long nails on a blackboard, but mesmerizing all the same. He
walked slowly around the chair, and thanked heaven that Voldemort's hideous, chalk-white face
was hidden under a black-hooded cloak.

Nagini raised his head and hissed sharply at the man, simultaneously lashing out with a powerful
snap. He yelped and jumped back, realizing that he had tread on the snake's tail.

Voldemort hissed to the serpent and Nagini immediately relaxed. The servant looked nervously
from Nagini to Voldemort.

"P...Potter is a parsel-mouth as well... m...my lord."

"I brought you here to tell me things I don't know, fool. Now tell me... What have you
learned."

The servant swallowed nervously, and began. "I've learned of all of his classes...
s..spoken to teachers and students about him... his personality, his weaknesses and strengths, his
likes and dislikes... I've spoken to his friends and enemies, a...and to him
personally."

"Potter has enemies at school..." it was more a statement than a question.
"Interesting. What of the cloaking charm..."

"No one suspects, my lord. Not even Dumbledore... Even Potter has felt nothing...Of course,
no one has recognized me either...it's been so long..."

"Excellent. You've done something right, for once, but remember, it won't work for
much longer. You'll need to cast it again soon... Now about his enemies..."

The servant, prodded along by his master's pleasure at his work, continued.

"He has quite a few, actually. Although they all seem to stem from the same house... and
that from the same boy..."

"Lucius Malfoy's son, no doubt," said Voldemort with a cruel chuckle.

"Ah... ah yes. Draco Malfoy," said the servant wringing his hands nervously,
"H...How did you know, my lord?"

"It's obvious. I've trained Lucius well, who in turn, trains his son. He and Potter
have been enemies since both started their schooling. Continue..."

The servant noticed that the dark lord had not moved once since his arrival and wondered if he
was weakening again. Inwardly, he wondered how this could be used to his advantage. He
continued.

"Um, uh, alas my lord...Potter is so well protected that I fear how we will get to him...I
mean you, of course. Dumbledore keeps him watched day and night. He's never alone,
or..."

"Yes, well I would inhabit you and get him myself, but I now have my own body, and the
cloaking charm can't hide the enormity of my power. Potter would sense it in a
second."

At the word "inhabit" the servant's eyes widened and he began trembling.

"Relax, idiot. I have no intention of shedding *my* body for *yours*. Now. Tell
me more."

"He... he has a c..close friend...Ron Weasley, a red-headed boy... and his
g..g..girlfriend, a girl named Granger. The three are always together. They..."

Voldemort slapped an angry skeletal hand down on the arm of the old chair sending dust
catapulting into the air.

"I know about Weasley and Granger!" he screamed, "I sent you to find out
*new* information, new..." But at that, Voldemort stopped himself and slowly stood to
face his servant. If he had been able to see his master's face, the man would have seen a slow,
cruel smile dawning on his ugly features.

"Girlfriend..." Voldemort muttered to the other. His servant stumbled backward,
visibly terrified. He held the back of his hand to his face and blinked rapidly, waiting for the
dark lord to strike.

"I tried to get more information!...I spoke to everyone I could think of!..I..I even spoke
to Dumbledore about him, he...he had no idea I was fishing for information..."

"*Silence!*!"

But the terrified servant continued to ramble on. Voldemort raised his wand and pointed it at
the man's face.

"*Ereptio Mutensia*!" he screeched. Immediately the man was rendered completely
speechless.

Voldemort ground his teeth in irritation. He had no use for pathetic, whimpering idiots. As soon
as the man had served his purpose, he would dispose of him. He slowly approached the servant, wand
still in hand.

"So, Potter and Granger are involved now..."

The mute servant, his eyes widening the closer Voldemort stepped toward him, nodded
furiously.

Voldemort stopped moving and seemed in contemplation. "This changes things..." he
muttered to himself. "In the past, when Potter's friends have been in danger, he's
still been able to fight rationally, calmly, even fiercely... he's faced battles like that
before. But I wonder how he'll react when deeper feelings are involved. He may become rash,
make illogical decisions, even come unhinged... Hmm... *Exigo Uttoralis*."

Voldemort freed the servant of his curse almost as an afterthought. He fell to his knees and
grabbed his neck, making a small sound in the back of his throat to make sure his voice still
worked. He closed his eyes briefly in relief.

The dark lord turned slowly to face his servant once again.

"Tell me... will there be a time when you will have access to Granger..."

Slowly the servant stood to his feet, but remembered to stoop lower than his master. He spoke
almost in a whisper. "You... you want me to take her... to lure Potter..."

Voldemort lifted his head briefly. "Very good. You may not be as dim-witted as you seem.
Now...will there be a time..."

"There's a..an upcoming Quidditch match... it's a big one. Not only will the whole
school be out on the grounds, but p..parents and reporters; all manner of other witches and
wizards..." the servant slowly smiled. "It would be easy for someone to get lost in all
of the confusion..."

The dark lord stared at the man for some time, sizing up his abilities. Under the scrutinizing
stare, the servant's small confidence began to waver. He could hear Voldemort's even
breathing. Then finally...

"Are you capable..."

"Yes master! Absolutely...Have I ever failed you? I will bring the girl to you and make
sure that Potter finds out she's gone, and where. He'll come master. I know it."

"I want it made clear that he is to come alone," said Voldemort, walking back to his
chair and sitting once again, "and that if Dumbledore is told and I find out...Granger's
dead."

"Yes my lord, absolutely," the servant nodded superfluously.

Voldemort paused again, his cold eyes sizing up the other. "Are the bones in
place..."

"Yes my lord...I saw to it this afternoon," stated the servant with a shudder.

"And you placed the identity charm on them?"

"Of course...They will appear to be the bones of a young Kavan...no one will suspect...Not
even Dumbledore..."

"Excellent," stated Voldemort, "That should be enough of a distraction to throw
the old fool off... And in the mean time...you know your job..."

"Absolutely, my lord. All will go according to plan." The servant made a move to grab
his broom from the corner to leave.

"Don't use a broom again, fool! Come and leave by floo powder. It won't do to have
some idiot see you flying in and out of the forest! Do you have a safe fireplace to use?"

"Y...Yes, my lord," the servant walked over to the fireplace and snatched some green
powder from the urn, being mindful to stay clear of Nagini. Voldemort squelched the fire and heat
with a wave of his wand and the servant stepped into the fireplace.

"One more thing," said Voldemort in a low, dangerous voice before the servant could
disappear, "I am not weak... and I don't care how long you've been with me...I know
when a servant is thinking of betraying me."

The man's heart fell to his stomach. He should have known better than to have thoughts of
betrayal around the dark lord. He began to shake uncontrollably.

Voldemort smiled mirthlessly. "Bring back Granger and I may let you live. Fail, and I will
seek you out and destroy you...our history not withstanding."

The servant nodded once, swallowing, and quickly threw the green powder down, speaking out his
destination.

When he had disappeared, Voldemort pointed his wand at the hearth and started the fire once
more.

"Ah, Nagini... what fools men are."

Nagini lifted his flat head and hissed in agreement.

****************************************************



5. untitled
-----------

Chapter 5

Harry landed easily on his Firebolt and hopped off, shaking sweat and dirt from his head and
grinning triumphantly.

As his teammates landed around him, he tossed the snitch from his left hand to his right and
threw a line drive into George Weasley's stomach.

George caught it, but with a small 'oomph'. Satisfied, Harry turned to saunter away but
was thrown to the ground by both Fred and George.

"Nice job hero," said George, rubbing Harry's cheek in the dirt. Harry tried to
punch behind him, but to no avail.

"Hey, I caught it, didn't I?" He grunted, swinging wildly.

"Yeah, he meant it," said Fred, pulling a punch to Harry's ribs, "Play like
that tomorrow and Slytherin's done for."

"They're done for anyway," said Harry roughly, scrambling up and throwing Fred and
George in the dirt. They landed half on Michelle, who frowned and shoved them away.

Wood walked up between the twins carrying the Quidditch chest, which George tossed the snitch
into as he passed.

"Truce, huh?" said Wood with a smirk.

"Yeah, truce," grinned George happily.

All seven of the team members were covered with sweat and grime; hair matted down on their
heads, and were happier than ever.

Wood beamed confidently at them as they headed back toward the school.

"Well, there's half an hour until dinner, plenty of time for you blokes to
shower..."

"Who needs to shower?" said Marcus grinning as he slapped Wood on the shoulder.

Michelle pinched her nose and sneered at him. "You do! And so do I for that
matter..."

"That's the smell of success," Marcus grinned at her and ran ahead to the
school.

"Well you'd better shower Harry," said Wood grinning, "...don't think
Hermione would enjoy the 'smell of success."

Harry shook his hair out again, wiping it back from his forehead and ignored Wood. Wood grinned
even wider.

Fred and George came up behind Harry and both whacked him on the back of the head. Harry punched
at them testily, missing them both.

"Gonna see her tonight Harry?"

"Better smell good... she might not want to kiss ya."

Harry growled and sighed loudly. "Does everyone know!?"

Wood looked over to Harry with a worldly grin. "Yep... heard Colin's gonna publish it
in the paper."

Harry knew Wood was only joking, but sighed wearily anyway. Nothing was ever a secret at
Hogwarts.

***************************************

Once inside, Harry made his way towards Gryffindor to grab some clean clothes for the shower,
and began to think back to his and Wood's conversation about Voldemort. If he was indeed on the
move again, why weren't the papers reporting it? He and Ron both received the *Daily
Prophet*, but pretty much all that had been reported lately was the loss of team members from
the "Knights" and rumors of possible replacements.

Harry thought back to a large article he had read about the excellent players from Durmsdrang in
Bulgaria and Beauxbatons in France, both schools for witchcraft and wizardry, and both holding
excellent candidates for their own major league teams. Harry had a hard time believing that he
might be chosen for the Knights when the world was full of players like Victor Krum. He shuddered
at that name as he remembered Hermione's brief involvement with the Bulgarian. He remembered
how he had felt every time he saw them together and wondered now at how stupid he was for not
understanding his own feelings.

Harry cleared his head once again and thought again about his conversation with Wood. They had
both determined that if there really were any danger, Harry would certainly know about it, via his
scar. And if Dumbledore knew about any danger, he would have already lectured Harry and lectured
the teachers to keep an eye out.

But the Headmaster had seemed pretty serene lately, and hadn't had much weighing heavily on
his mind, it seemed. Unless he was just too distracted with the goings on at the school and of
course getting everything ready for the huge tournament and the three recruiters to notice much
else.

Harry had a hard time believing this, and settled himself to believing that it was all a
rumor.

Harry reached the common room and spoke to the fat lady. She complied and he stepped inside.

He saw Ron and Hermione look up from a game of wizard chess they were playing to wince at his
appearance.

"You *are* going to shower, right?" said Ron sneering.

"Just have," replied Harry sarcastically.

"Tough practice?" Hermione smiled at him, "You look really gross..."

"Don't you want to hug me?" said Harry walking towards her with wide arms, "I
just came back to get you so we could go to dinner together..."

Ron laughed as Hermione shot up from the couch and moved to the back of it.

"Dinner isn't for another thirty minutes and don't come near me until you're
clean!"

Harry raced around the couch as Hermione raced the other way. "I thought you liked
me!" he said feigning left and right.

"Go take a shower, you're nasty!"

"You told me I was sweet!" As he began to move again, Ron stuck out his leg and Harry
stumbled over it, nearly falling.

Harry glared at Ron tersely. "Well *that* was uncalled for."

"You stink... Go wash." Ron turned his gaze back to the game as it was his move.

Harry grinned. "I'm going. I was just having a bit of fun,"

Hermione walked tentatively back around the couch and plopped back down beside Ron, giving Harry
a wary glance. "Not funny."

Harry smirked at her and glanced at his watch... five thirty.

"Oh well, I'd better hurry... I'll meet you guys in the Hall." He headed
towards the steps taking two at a time. "Oh, Hermione, use your knights more."

"No help!" yelled Ron over his shoulder at him. He turned back to Hermione and moved a
piece. "Not that it'll make much difference... check."

Hermione sighed.

After Hermione lost, she and Ron began to head towards the Great Hall. The thought of the time
that she and Harry would be spending after dinner made her shiver anxiously, a small smile lighting
on her face. Ron glanced sideways at her and smirked knowingly.

"What're you grinnin' about then?"

Hermione's eyes widened and she stared at the floor, blushing.

"Nothing...Really," she managed to stammer.

Ron nodded falsely. "Right."

Upon reaching the Great Hall, Ron and Hermione were surprised at how busy and crowded it seemed.
Hogwarts was already home to about three hundred students, ten professors, house and ground keepers
and twenty some odd ghosts, so it was bursting at the seems tonight with the added guests.

Several clusters of reporters were readying equipment and up at the front of the hall where the
professors sat, Cornbluth, Versval, and Starven were conversing quite contentedly with Professor
Dumbledore, Professor McGonnagol and Cornelius Fudge, the head of the Ministry of Magic.

Of course the students brought the hall bursting to its seems already, and with the added bodies
and noise, it seemed like barely controlled madness.

"Wow," commented Ron as he and Hermione headed towards their usual spots at the middle
of the large Gryffindor table, "They must be really serious about the match tomorrow. Look at
all the press!"

"I guess so," Hermione replied, "The 'Knights" lost two or three really
good players this year so they're really looking at Hogwarts for replacements. I think Harry
has a really good chance, don't you?"

"Better than Malfoy," Ron sneered as they passed Slytherin's table. Malfoy
returned the look generously. "I'm not sure that's what Harry wants to do with his
life though, are you?"

Hermione sighed as they reached their table and plopped down beside Ron. "I dunno...
He's always too worried about Voldemort to plan too far ahead... Sometimes I think he feels
like ultimately he's alone. I think he thinks it's up to him to finally finish him
off."

"Well it is, isn't it..." stated Ron, picking up a large chicken leg and chewing
thoughtfully.

Hermione stared slack-jawed at Ron, with wide almost betrayed eyes.

"Ron Weasley! We've both always been there to help Harry! I thought you said you'd
never abandon him, especially when it comes to Voldemort!... We're talking about his
life!" Hermione was almost in tears.

Ron dropped the chicken and turned to her. "'Mione, calm down will you? Of course
I'll always be there for Harry, right down to the end. But you know as well as I do that the
ultimate end will be between Voldemort and Harry. Harry's the only one who will really ever be
able to kill him. Don't you see that?"

Hermione swallowed harshly. "Because of the scar..." she replied quietly.

Ron studied her silently for a moment. "Yeah... because of the scar. Harry's mum, and
Voldemort for that matter, gave Harry something that night." Ron paused. "'Mione no
one else has it."

Hermione rested her head on her hands and rubbed her forehead. She guessed that she had always
known that, but she had just as frequently shoved it from her thoughts. She couldn't bear to
think of Harry facing Voldemort alone. But in the end, that was how it was going to be. It
terrified her to think of losing him after six years, and with the rumor that she and Ron had heard
today that Voldemort was on the move again, Hermione wasn't sure how many peaceful times they
still had left.

Harry chose that moment in her reverie to plop down opposite Ron and she with a carefree
grin.

"Wow, it's crowded tonight, huh?" he said reaching for chicken and potatoes. He
had a bite halfway to his mouth before he caught Hermione and Ron's expressions and lowered his
fork.

"What is it..."

Hermione looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears as Ron continued to eat silently.
Quietly she tried to blink them away and face Harry with a brave smile.

"It's nothing. Just something I have to force myself to deal with."

"Well what is it?" said Harry, drawing his brows together with concern, "Maybe I
can help you."

Hermione closed her eyes and smiled tightly. At that moment she felt decades older than her
sixteen years. "Actually Harry, you're the one person that can't help me with
this."

She took in the clean wet hair laying in mats across his forehead and his smooth boyish face.
His green eyes sought hers for an answer, but she didn't have on to give. The thought of one
day losing him was almost more than she could bear. Not trusting herself to say anymore, she kept
silent and started eating.

"Caught Wood tonight before you got back to the common room," Ron spoke up, avoiding
Harry's eyes, "I wanted to ask him about Gryffindor's chances."

"Oh yeah?" said Harry brightly, "What'd he say?"

"Well, we didn't get around to talking about it," answered Ron quietly,
"...He told me about the rumor... about Voldemort."

Hermione visibly shuddered.

Harry looked at the two of them and sighed. "Is that what this is about?"

Hermione looked at him with something that resembled fear and

Harry shook his head. "That's all it is you know... a rumor. Even Dumbledore
doesn't seem to sense a threat."

"He's not always right, Harry," said Hermione.

"He's rarely wrong either," said Harry confidently, "And you're
forgetting; as long as I'm close to Dumbledore, I'm safe. And I have no reason to go off
school grounds. So, the end... ok?"

Ron and Hermione looked at him doubtfully.

"C'mon, lets cheer up," Harry jovially began again, "Let's just
concentrate on the match tomorrow. Look how excited everyone is!"

The pitch in the hall had just about reached a barely controlled roar. The reporters, now with
cameras and floating microphones in place, were filming short beginnings for their shoots; panning
the hall and focusing a lot on Dumbledore and the three recruiters.

Cornelius Fudge, the head of the Ministry of Magic, was now briefing the recruiters on the
proper way for them to choose their candidates, after the upcoming game.

Dumbledore stood, his head knocking lightly against one of the floating candles. He brushed it
away absently and called for attention.

"Everyone quiet please," he said, patting the air, "Quiet now."

A sea of faces, young and older all turned their attention to the white, long-haired older man
up front. It was clear that the respect he was given was mutual by all.

"It is time now that we understand the rules of tomorrow’s match; what time it starts and
how the choosing will be done afterward. Please all give your attention to Mr. Cornelius Fudge, the
head of the Ministry of Magic." Dumbledore re-seated himself and polite applause followed.

Fudge, a shorter wizard of around fifty, with a bulbous, veinish nose, balding head and
protruding stomach stood importantly, trying his best to appear tall and formidable, although his
tone was jovial. "The match tomorrow will be held at three o'clock, at which time we will
introduce to all, and to our guests, our distinguished recruiters from the 'Knights', Mr.
Versval, Mr. Starven and Mr. Cornbluth." Fudge gestured generously at the three wizards seated
to his right. They nodded to the crowd, who began to cheer. The choosing of the candidates was the
second most exciting thing about the match, besides the game itself.

Fudge patted the air gently. "Now save that for tomorrow!" he smiled, "If you
want a good seat, you may want to arrive at the field an hour early, reserving the seats up front
and middle for Professor Dumbledore, our other esteemed Hogwarts teachers...and of course,
myself." Fudge's head raised ever so slightly in acknowledgement of his own
importance.

Severus Snape, to Fudge's left, sneered and rolled his eyes. He hated pompousness, and
particularly disliked Fudge.

"Now let's have a nice clean game tomorrow, all you Quidditch players! Play your best
and your hardest, and you may find yourselves singled out as candidates for the
'Knights'!" Fudge grinned proudly as cheering erupted once again.

Snape noticed Fudge edging his way into the camera's view and sneered again, most noticeably
this time. Dumbledore noticed, and patted his arm with an understanding smile. Snape grunted and
turned away.

Across from Ron and Hermione, Harry had a surprisingly similar look cross his face as he twirled
his finger in the air.

"Whoopee," he stated flatly, turning back to his dinner.

Ron's jaw dropped in astonishment. "Harry are you daft!? You're not excited about
the game tomorrow?"

"It's just another game, Ron," and then more quietly, "Besides, I'm much
more excited about tonight." His steady gaze flickered to Hermione for a brief moment and she
felt her cheeks begin to burn. She widened her eyes at him and flicked a gaze at Ron and back at
him.

Harry shook his head and gave her a 'he didn't notice face. Sure enough, Ron was too
absorbed in his own thoughts to notice the small moment of indiscretion.

"Harry, you make me crazy," he said, digging into his mashed potatoes much harder than
needed. "I would give my right arm to be in your position. You act like it's nothing
important!"

"You'll be a beater on the team next year, right behind Fred and George, Ron. The only
reason you're not on this year is because we were already full; everyone knows it."

"Yeah, but you're the one getting looked at for the 'Knights'!"

"And next year it'll be you," said Hermione reasonably, patting his arm.
"Just because you're not on the team now doesn't mean you won't be. You watch.
Next year we three will be sitting here congratulating you."

"Yeah, next year," said Ron sullenly, "I guess I envy you Harry... You seem to
always get a go at everything."

At that moment, Dumbledore stood again, and once again commanded the attention of the crowd. The
headmaster and the professors looked decidedly more tense than a few minutes ago, all looking stern
and tight-lipped. Even the recruiters looked particularly uncomfortable.

"Attention again please," began Dumbledore in his trademark scratchy voice. "It
is difficult at this happy, exciting time to bring you all bad news, but regrettably, it must be
done..." he breathed in heavily, and continued. "I'm sure it has come to all of your
attentions by now that a certain rumor has been circulating about the resurgence of
he-who-must-not-be-named... I must warn you now that reports have been confirmed that there has
been some definite movement in the dark world..."

A low, shocked mumbling began that started to rise in pitch as adults and students all across
the hall began talking nervously to each other.

"Please wait a moment, please," began Dumbledore again, "Now this was not meant
to incite panic. It is to serve as a warning. While I cannot disclose now the nature of the
reports, the other professors and I, with the strong suggestion of Professor McGonnagol,"
Dumbledore nodded toward Minerva, who shifted slightly in her seat, uncomfortable with the
attention, "will be up late tonight making sure that the grounds are safe and secure. Everyone
that will be coming in to watch the game will be searched, and if found to be suspicious, will be
questioned.

Now, I must stress again, mainly for our guests as this is a known rule at Hogwarts; the
Forbidden Forest is strictly prohibited. All of Hogwarts will be safe, but only as far as the
grounds stretch, and they end there. So please help each other, and your visiting family members
and friends to remember to *stay within* the parameters of the school. Thank you." A
decidedly more heavy-hearted Dumbledore once again took his seat.

Slowly the rumble of voices began to take over the Great Hall once more.

Ron turned back to look at Harry, who had suddenly lost his appetite. Hermione looked almost
sick.

Harry's jaw clenched and unclenched reflexively and he glanced up at Ron with a false smile.
"Still want to be me?... I'll trade."

"Harry..." Hermione breathed, clenching his hand tightly.

Ron just shook his head numbly and grabbed Harry's arm with reassurance.

**************************************

Dinner ended on a decidedly less carefree note. The reporters began to either portkey home, or
find fireplaces to use floo powder. The teachers, recruiters, and Cornelius Fudge all followed
Dumbledore towards his large office for a meeting, and the students headed for their common rooms,
or wherever else they intended to go, since it was not yet curfew.

Harry and Hermione bid farewell to Ron, and Harry suggested to her that they go out for a walk.
He took her hand and led her towards the large double doors that led outside.

Hermione balked at the doors.

"Harry, we only have an hour and a half until curfew... maybe we shouldn't..."

"Shouldn't what?" said Harry with a grin that aggravated the heck out of her.

"Go outside!" said Hermione in exasperation, "You heard Dumbledore..."

"And if we stay on Hogwarts grounds, we're safe," he replied, pulling her along.
He opened on of the great doors and he and Hermione stepped out into the unusually warm night.

Once again, Hermione stopped. "Harry, Professor McGonnagol needs to secure the grounds, and
who knows what might be waiting until she does..."

Harry sighed and gently clamped a hand over her mouth. "We're not going far... just for
a walk by the lake, and I've got my wand, in case. Besides I've got something for
you," he said, inches from her face. He grinned at her again in that aggravating way that made
her heart do flips. She almost felt annoyed at herself for it, but found herself smiling in
response. She sighed.

"Harry, how do you do that to me?"

"What?" He looked genuinely confused, and grinned lopsidedly again. She rolled her
eyes, walking with him towards the lake.

"*That!*"

Harry stopped and grabbed her hands, pulling her to him. "Oh... well I guess it's just
my charm." He wiggled his eyebrows at her and laughed at the expression on her face.

"Please," said Hermione, trying not to smile, "You're not as charming as you
think." Secretly, she thought otherwise.

"Well, it worked for you," said Harry. He laughed, side-stepping a punch from a
slack-jawed Hermione that came close to hitting it's mark.

"Harry, you stuck-up prat!"

"I'm just kidding..."

Hermione looked unconvinced and Harry laughed at her. "I'm joking! Really."

They reached the lake and Harry put his arms around her, drawing her to him. "Honestly, I
feel really lucky. I can't imagine why you picked me."

Hermione gaped up at him. "More like *you* picked *me*! Harry you could've
had your choice of anyone. I know several girls who have *severe* crushes on you." She
laid her head on his chest and looked out at the diamond-crusted water beside them, glittering from
the light of the moon.

"Doesn't matter," said Harry, resting his chin on the top of her head, "I got
the one I wanted."

He sighed contentedly and pulled her even tighter to him. He never thought he'd have someone
to care for him in this way. He'd always grown up believing that he wasn't worth it.
Hermione, just by being with him, was showing him that he might be a person of worth after all. And
not just because of who he was on the outside; the boy-who-lived; but on the inside. She knew
everything about him, his personality, faults, certain weaknesses, and she accepted him anyway...
far more than he had ever expected anyone too.

Abruptly, Harry realized he'd forgotten his surprise.

"Oh, um... walk with me this way..."

Hermione looked up at him with a curious smile and let herself be led around the next bend of
the lake.

There, on a particularly flat, grassy area lay a blanket, with a bottle of what looked like
butterbeer, two mugs, and a small wrapped box. Hermione's eyes widened in surprise.

"When did you do this!?"

"Well, it took me a while to get to dinner, didn't you notice?" said Harry
smiling. The lighted look on Hermione's face made his heart sing. He led her over to the
blanket, and they sat beside each other.

Harry poured each of them a mug of the sweet, creamy drink and they drank in silence, stealing
glances at each other over the mugs.

For a while, all seemed well, but it became increasingly clear to Harry that Hermione had
something on her mind, and had ever since dinner. He waited until she was ready to speak.

Hermione finally looked up at him with large eyes and seemed to be forming the right words to
say.

Harry put his drink down and grabbed her hand. "You can tell me anything, you
know."

Hermione bit the inside of her lip and nodded at him. Finally, she looked down, feeling almost
ashamed of herself. "I'm scared."

Harry hadn't expected that. He found himself almost at a loss for words. "Of what?...
Of me?" He searched her face.

"No! Of course not," said Hermione quickly. She sighed heavily and finally lifted her
eyes to look at him. "I'm scared of the future... of what's going to happen with you
and Voldemort."

Harry blinked a little and drew in a breath. "Hermione..."

But the words she had struggled against forming for so long were finally out, and she
couldn't stop the rest. As she spoke, she tried to will away the lump that was forming in her
throat, but was almost helpless to stop it, or the tears that began rolling down her cheeks.

"No Harry, I mean it. He's always after you... You know as well as I do that he's
not gonna stop until one of you is dead!" She felt her breath hitching and tried to control
it, to no avail. "I don't know what to do... I sound selfish even to myself, but I
can't bear the thought of losing you. I don't know what I would do...Wh.. what would I
do?" She asked the question of herself as if Harry wasn't there. There had been no answer
before, and there wasn't one now. She pressed her lips together, ashamed at her own weakness
and turned her face away from him.

Harry closed his eyes for a moment. Somehow, he knew this would come. He had always felt that he
had no right to ask anyone to be involved with him; to face what he had to face every minute of his
life. Whether it be a friend, or more than that, it would never be fair to them, or to him. This
was the life that had chosen him.

He had struggled with his feelings for Hermione for so long that, when he found out that she
felt the same, he almost couldn't help himself. And now, since they had been friends for so
long before this, everything was moving at a very quick rate. He looked up at her face and knew
what he had to do. He raked a hand through his hair. He knew his next words would be the hardest
he'd ever said. His chin fell down to his chest in defeat for a moment, but then he raised his
gaze to her, trying his hardest to breath normally.

"If this is too hard, I understand... You don't have to explain anything to me. We...
we'll always be friends... Always."

At that, Hermione was shocked into soberness. She grabbed both of Harry's hands and pulled
him closer to her.

"No Harry! I didn't mean that! How could you th...I couldn't go back now even if I
wanted to...and I don't...ever." She was desperate for him to understand, and to know how
she felt about him.

Harry looked up at her face, surprised. But his happiness was quickly overshadowed. He then
looked at her a little sternly, with fear mixed into his gaze.

"Then can you face the fact that one day, I might not come back?" He swallowed, and
heard his voice choke on his own words. "Because I have to... every day. And if you're
with me, you will too."

Abruptly, he realized how different he must sound from a normal boy pushing seventeen; how much
older and more world-weary he felt. Why he was chosen to carry such a heavy burden was beyond him,
but mostly he hated now it affected those who chose to be near him. Ron, the teachers at Hogwarts,
even his godfather, Sirius was constantly on the alert for him. But Hermione... she was altogether
different. She was the first person that he had deeper feelings for; and the first in a long time
that had deeper feelings for him. It scared him to think of what that might bring.

Hermione, instead of being nervous and having a change of heart after Harry's speech,
visibly relaxed and gazed at him tenderly.

"Harry," she began softly, "I *am* scared, everyday... but what you
don't realize is that even if we did go back to being just friends, nothing would change.
I'd still feel the same way. I've cared about you since the first day I met you on the
train... I'm not gonna leave you. I'm gonna be right by you through everything. So will
Ron...but especially me. I guess I just wanted you to understand me. And you should know something
else too, because I know you. You're worth every minute of it to me."

Harry was astonished. He had fully expected Hermione to tell him that it was too hard and
leave.

He put his hands on either side of her face and shook his head in amazement, pulling her in for
a soft kiss. It wasn't an ordinary kiss for either one. It was a kiss full of promise... for
love and support, and for sticking by each other, no matter what. They had made an unspoken pact
that night; whatever happened, Voldemort had two to face. For both, the promise stretched on even
further than that... for the future... and it looked bright as the sun at that moment.

When they finally broke apart, somewhat breathless and beaming happily at each other, Harry
reached behind him and handed Hermione the small box.

"Harry, it's a little soon, isn't it!?" Hermione feigned shock and then
grinned.

Harry smirked at her and pinched her arm playfully. "Open it."

He watched a little nervously as she unwrapped the package as if the box itself was
precious.

Inside was a small silver necklace with a heart-shaped pendant. Within the heart lay a red,
almost incandescent stone, giving off an unusual glow.

"Harry," Hermione breathed, eyes wide, "I can't believe you..."

"In a good way?" said Harry with a crooked smile.

"Of course." Hermione beamed at him, and Harry took the necklace from her, motioning
for her to turn around. She did, and lifted her hair so that he could clasp it on her.

When he finished, he grabbed her from behind and pulled her back close to him. He closed his
eyes and caught the faint smell of her hair; strawberry shampoo; same since their first year.

Breathing contentedly, Hermione rested the back of her head against his shoulder, and Harry
leaned back, resting his weight, and hers, on his elbows. The sky was cloudless, and full of stars.
And the water reflected the moon as if it held a large lump of gold in its center. The night
couldn't have been more perfect if Harry had planned it himself.

"So, you wanna know why the stone glows?" said Harry from above her.

"Why..." asked Hermione, twisting around to look at him.

Harry laid back on the blanket, resting his head on his hand. Hermione followed, laying her head
on his other shoulder as his arm came up around her.

"It only glows when I'm thinking of you," he answered.

"What?...How?"

"It's just an enchantment," said Harry lazily, gazing back up at the sky, "I
got it at Hogsmeade a while back. I've wanted to give it to you for a long time."

Something in the way Hermione's face lit up at that moment, and the soft expression on her
face as she looked at him made Harry feel like he was finally home. It hit him how odd that seemed,
but as Hermione laid back down with him on the blanket, and snuggled closely to him, he
understood.

***************************************

Dumbledore entered his office, followed by an entourage of teachers, recruiters, and one very
unhappy and quite shaken Cornelius Fudge. Everyone found a place either to sit or stand, and
Dumbledore headed around his desk to sit in his favorite chair.

"Now, Dumbledore... What's this all about?" began Fudge nervously as he played
with the buttons on his robe, "Why am I just now hearing of this?"

"We're *all* just now hearing of this, Fudge," said Professor Snape
irritably.

"As the head of the Minister of Magic, I am privy to information sometimes long before
anyone else," began Fudge again haughtily, "I don't understand why..."

"Please..." said Dumbledore quietly, "Cornelius, the rumor has been going on for
some time now, but just tonight, via one of the reporters, it has been confirmed." By way of
explanation, he continued. "Apparently they are kept in constant contact with their various
stations, and her assistant received an owl just after I introduced you. She informed me
then."

"But Albus," began McGonnagol, "how do they know that the rumor is true? What
proof do they have?"

The headmaster sighed, rubbing his temples gently. His expression was grave. "With one of
the worst signs we could have been given...the remains of Stuart Kavan."

The teachers and Fudge, who all understood this, seemed to gasp simultaneously and began to fire
questions and comments all at once, oblivious to the very confused recruiters, who stood in the
background, trying to take it all in.

"Remains...do you mean a body?"

"Has it been positively identified?"

"How old was the body? Did he die young as we thought?"

"Of course, it has to be Voldemort.. no one else would be so vile..."

"Where was it foun', Perfessor?" this was Hagrid, and Dumbledore thought the
question to be a good place to start.

"One at a time please," said Dumbledore, "and Hagrid brings up an excellent
question... The remains were found inside Knockturn alley near the entrance to one of the shops.
One of the more questionable ones, I might add. Apparently the owner of the bones wanted it to
appear to the shop keeper as if he were merely trying to rid himself of some unwanted item, but of
course he knew there would be an inquiry and medi-wizard exam of who the bones belonged to...and as
news leaked out of the dead person's name, well...there are few people who would understand the
significance; those being Stuart's parents, who died a few years ago, and of
course...Hogwarts."

Dumbledore took a few minutes to let this new information sink in.

"And the bones?" said McGonnagol, "Were they of a young man, or older?"

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "He was fifteen when he died, Minerva... the reports confirm
it."

The teachers gasped anew and spoke to one another in hushed tones.

"He kept them..." said Professor Flitwick breathlessly, "As a trophy, until
now...Until he needed them to send a message..."

"It would appear that way," said Dumbledore.

"Vile creature...vile...and the one he's after now..."

"Harry," mumbled Professor McGonnagol with a hand over her mouth. She dropped her hand
rapidly. "Albus, he can't know of this... He doesn't need to know the details.
It's enough for him to know that he's in danger..."

"No worries, Minerva," said Dumbledore, "He'll not know. We'll simply
make sure that the security in and around Hogwarts is stepped up to it's highest. Argus,"
He addressed the caretaker, Filch, "I'll need you to keep specific watch on the corridors
at night; no students wandering after seven o'clock. If any are caught, make sure they know
that the consequences will be grave." Filch nodded and looked in his arms at Mrs. Norris, as
if making sure she understood as well.

"Minerva...you, I and Professor Snape will go immediately after this meeting to begin
charming the school grounds. Anyone not coming through the portkeys, or through any of the floo
networks will not be able to enter. Professor Sprout, I would like you to make a list of new rules
that you and I will set up to take around to all of the house prefects, and make sure they read
them to all of the students."

Finally, one of the recruiters spoke up. "So the game will go on tomorrow, as
planned..." said Starven.

"Yes, the game will go on..." replied Dumbledore, amid immediate protests from some of
the teachers, "Wait, please," he held up a hand, "This killing took place some time
ago. I think it is safe to assume that it was simply sent as a warning. Yes, Voldemort is sending
us a message that he will be trying something, but I feel that it is a distraction...something to
set us on the wrong track. And in the mean time, life must go on as normal. If we shut down
Hogwarts and all of it's activities every time there is a threat, then Voldemort has already
won. He will always be a threat, until the day he is ultimately destroyed. Until then, we will go
on about our business as usual, for there is no other way to be. We will just be extremely careful.
Again, no one will enter tomorrow without being questioned...if anyone seems even remotely
suspicious, I may even authorize the use of veritaserum. Madame Pomfrey?"

Pomfrey nodded, understanding Dumbledore's question before he even asked it. "We have
plenty in stock... and I will be more than happy to use it if necessary."

Dumbledore nodded. "I will ask that all teachers place yourselves around the portkeys and
floo networks to meet our guests, and to check them out. You should have plenty of time before the
game to do so, as they will be arriving some two hours before time. We have a list of who replied
to our invitation; if anyone tries to enter that is not found on the list, they will be turned
back. Now, the best thing we can do is not panic, especially for the students. Our precautions will
have to be enough, until we are proven otherwise."

"Headmaster, we don't know the story about young Kavan..." spoke up Mr. Cornbluth,
"Perhaps you could enlighten us."

Dumbledore nodded and told the story from beginning to end, including the part about the body
never being found... of course until now.

The three recruiters looked graver and graver with each word until the story was finished.

"And why was the public kept in the dark?" asked Versval.

"They were told that a young boy went missing that year, and that it was thought to be the
work of the new dark lord that had been asserting his power and drawing followers. The name of the
boy and where the incident happened were to be known only to the Hogwarts teachers, and to
Stuart's parents. There was no need for anyone else to know, save that the Forbidden Forest,
from then on was not only discouraged to be explored, but prohibited," finished
Dumbledore.

The teachers, all satisfied with answers, and given specific tasks to undertake, understood and
agreed. The last one to comment was Snape.

"Headmaster... I hope, in all sincerity, that this does not end up another fiasco like with
Professor Quirrell."

"I don't think so, Severus. All guests will be searched and questioned. I think that
will be enough for now."

Regrettably, the headmaster wouldn't know how wrong he was until it was too late.

****************************************************



6. Chapter 6
------------

Chapter 6

Harry awoke early the next day. He had been dreaming all night about the match, the new
instructions that Professor Sprout had left with them, about why she, and all of the other
professors seemed so worried, and of course about Hermione. They had almost gotten caught last
night. They were still out on the blanket when they saw Dumbledore, McGonnagol and Snape rounding
the top of the hill that overlooked the lake. They had quickly gotten up, grabbed up the blanket,
bottle, and mugs and hidden behind a tree until the three were out of sight, and then made their
way stealthily back to the school.

Harry padded downstairs softly that morning to sit in front of the fire, still blazing warmly in
the common room. As he sprawled out in one of the plush chairs, staring into the orange flames, his
mind began to wander. He could see himself in the future... possibly playing major league Quidditch
for a few years, with Ron on the same team (Harry smiled fondly), and later married, maybe becoming
an Auror, or working underground for some defense league against dark magic. He thought of his
future with Hermione and wondered where their relationship would lead them.

He smiled warmly as he remembered kissing and holding her last night, among other things not
quite as mentionable.(I don't mean they went that far! ;0) ) It had been warm out, with a light
breeze; the kind of night that almost drugged you to sleep. As Harry and Hermione cuddled on the
blanket, neither remembered falling asleep until Hermione awoke with a start and glanced at her
watch. It was already an hour past curfew, but instead of waking Harry at once, she had rested her
head on her hand for a few more minutes and watched him sleep. Intermittently, the red heart lying
loosely from her neck onto the blanket began to glow. In the dark, with the moon blanketing them,
she had made it a point to memorize his face.

His wire-rimmed glasses had fallen onto the blanket beside her, and she tucked them into her
robe for safe keeping. His long, dark lashes framed his cheeks, and his mouth was relaxed open. He
looked so peaceful. She smiled to herself. She had seen him asleep before. He had fallen asleep one
too many times on the couch in the Gryffindor common room. He always seemed to take up the entire
area, his long form sprawled out carelessly, arms and legs lying wherever they would. Even now he
took up most of the blanket.

Reluctantly, she had woken him up, and just in time too, for just a few moments later, the three
professors had come into sight.

Harry remembered both of them making out on the couch in front of the same fire that he stared
at now, until one o'clock this morning, when both of them were exhausted and finally headed off
to their dorms.

He glanced at his watch. It was only seven now... he could've slept for at least another
half an hour.

At that moment, a sharp agonizing burning sensation began in his forehead that seemed to explode
all around him. As Harry fell from the chair, trying not to scream, he realized that it was his
scar. Pain like a white hot poker from the fire seared his forehead. Harry winced and dug his
fingers into his hairline, willing the pain to stop, but it kept coming in waves. He felt
nauseated; his stomach flipped and churned for what seemed like forever, when in reality, it was
only a few minutes. Finally, the pain began to ebb.

When he was able to open his eyes, Harry found that he was lying on the floor, covered in a thin
sheen of sweat. He willed his heart and breathing to slow.

At that moment, Ron, stumbling down the stairs and rubbing his eyes, scanned the common room
sleepily.

"Harry... you down here? I didn't see you in your bed..." He glanced towards the
fire where Harry usually sat and saw him on the floor, trying to sit up and clutching his
forehead.

"Harry!" Ron flew around the couch and threw himself to his knees. He gaped at his
friend as he helped him up. "You're white as a ghost! What happened? I woke up early and I
didn't see you..."

Harry held up a hand to silence Ron for a moment as he tried to find his voice.

"What is it..." said Ron sternly, "Do I need to get Madame Pomfrey? Tell
me..."

Harry turned a decidedly pekid face towards Ron. "My scars burning again..." He rested
his head in his hands and tried to breathe evenly.

Immediately, Ron tensed, searching Harry's face. It had been a while since that had last
happened; back when Harry had last had to face...

Ron stared at Harry steadily. "Voldemort," he said quietly.

Harry only had the strength to nod at the moment, closing his eyes as the last wave of nausea
passed. Slowly he leaned back on the couch and turned his head to look at his friend.

"Look, don't tell Hermione," he managed quietly.

Ron drew his brows together. "Don't tell her!? Don't you think she has a right to
know!? She..."

"...has enough on her mind already," finished Harry, closing his eyes again and
opening them slowly. "She already knows what she needs to know... Voldemort's on the move.
If we tell her about my scar it'll just upset her more. It means the same thing."

Ron set his jaw and gazed at Harry tersely. "Harry, it means he may have someone already on
school grounds... You know your scar only hurts when Voldemort or one of his servants are
near!"

"Or when I dream about him, or when he's plotting somewhere and thinking really hard
about me... who knows!? I know what it means Ron, which is why I want you to keep an eye on her at
the game, just in case. Stick by her... don't let her be alone," said Harry.

"But don't tell her why..." said Ron angrily.

Harry sighed. "I understand why you're mad. I don't like keeping things from her
either, but we talked last night Ron.. about Voldemort and I. She was in tears... worried sick. She
doesn't need anymore."

Harry paused and sat staring into the fire, thinking. He felt Ron's steady gaze on him,
trying to think the situation through as well.

"So how will we find out what's going on..."

"I don't know," said Harry steadily, "There's no way to find out until
something happens, is there? We'll just be on our guard. I don't like this either, but
whatever's going to happen is going to happen."

**************************************************

The rest of the morning went by achingly slow. Harry, Ron and Hermione sat together in their
classes; Harry doing his best to avoid the glances and whispers of pity from mostly well-meaning
classmates.

Internally, Harry tried various things to calm himself. He needed to keep his mind on the
Quidditch match that afternoon and didn't need the added distraction of talk of Voldemort and
constant thoughts of Hermione, although the latter were rather pleasant ones.

In the hallway between every class, he was greeted by Colin Creevey, shadowed by his even
smaller brother, Dennis, as he snapped roll upon roll of film and wished Harry good luck in
numerous different ways. Each time became more annoying until finally Hermione took Colin aside and
explained to him that while Harry really did thank him for the well-wishing, it was quite enough.
Colin, resilient as he was, didn't take the reproach badly, but decided that it might be worth
his time to take pictures of the other Quidditch players as well. He bounced off happily, his
younger brother skipping to keep up.

"Novel idea," said Ron sarcastically as Hermione told he and Harry about her
conversation.

In Transfiguration class, Harry not only had to put up with pompous glares from Malfoy, but also
caught Professor McGonnagol staring at him with an expression of mixed pity and worry right as he
was trying to change a bird into a glass bowl. Her expression and the expressions and quick glances
from his classmates made Harry turn his bird into more of a deep dished feather pizza. He closed
his eyes, sighing through clenched teeth.

Malfoy, of course thought Harry's discomfort with the attention to be extremely amusing, and
leaning towards Harry's desk, he whispered to him in his trademark hateful way.

"Way to go Potter... Three guesses as to how your game will be today. Voldemort
couldn't have moved at a better time."

Harry turned a fiery glare his way and spoke to him warningly. "I'd worry about my own
game if I were you. Slytherin could use all the help they can get."

"Not today; not with *you* as seeker." Then Malfoy took the opportunity to twist
the knife. "And by the way, if Voldemort does show, it's a sure bet he'll go for all
the mudbloods. He always did want to purge the school. I just hope Granger gets it first."

Harry felt as if he'd been punched in the chest. Before Malfoy even had a chance to react,
Harry flew out of his desk so hard that it crashed to the floor, and ripping Draco from his,
punched him hard across the face. It came so suddenly that Malfoy found himself sprawled on the
floor. As he gaped up at Harry in shock, he found him straddling over him, his wand inches from his
face.

"*Harry Potter*!" McGonnagol yelled, too shocked to move.

The look of white-hot fury burning on Potter's face was enough to root Malfoy to the spot.
Harry shook with rage. When he spoke his tone was flat and even.

"If you ever say anything like that again... If I ever even hear of it... they can pick up
what's left of you in a glass jar. Do you hear me..."

Malfoy, almost hyperventilating, realized at that moment that he may have gone a tad too
far.

The class, including Hermione and Ron, stared at Harry in shocked silence. They had never seen
him react so violently before.

"Nod." Harry spoke through gritted teeth.

Slowly Malfoy nodded that he had heard and understood, but with a look of pure hatred. Harry had
sealed their two fates in that one instant for him, and if he wasn't sure before, he was now.
Potter and he would *always* be enemies.

Harry willed his breathing to slow and swallowed, trying to calm himself. He turned and looked
from Hermione, to Ron, to McGonnagol. Quickly he picked up his books and walked out of class.

Malfoy picked himself up from the floor amidst a room full of gaping students and scooting his
desk back to its proper position, he sat down slowly.

McGonnagol realized that she had a hand clamped over her mouth and dropped it quickly, assuming
control of the class once again, though visibly shaken.

"Mr. Malfoy, do you need to go to Madame Pom..."

"I'm *fine*," Malfoy said flatly. He glanced Weasley's way and noticed he
was holding up two fingers.

*Twice this week* Ron mouthed silently. With a sarcastically blank face, he gave him a
thumbs up.

Draco clenched his jaw, and it split his head with pain. He chose to look straight ahead.

McGonnagol struggled to speak. "Ah...I...want this class to continue with your assignments.
Miss Patil, I'll leave you in charge; you did an excellent job... beautiful bowl... I need to
step out of class but I will be back momentarily. Until then I expect you all to be on your best
behavior. Miss Patil, please."

The professor gestured Parvarti to the front of the class and walked out quickly in search of
Harry.

She found him with some difficulty sitting on the steps of the stairway to the third floor with
his head lowered. He didn't acknowledge her as she sat quietly beside him.

They sat like that for some time, and as it was nearly a half and hour until classes for that
period were done, the silence made it all that much more uncomfortable. Finally the professor
spoke.

"You scared him."

Harry looked up as if shaking himself from a dream. "What?"

"You scared him," repeated McGonnagol patiently. "If that's what you were
trying to do Potter, it worked."

Harry looked guiltily from the professor to the floor and placed his head in his hands.

"I'm so sorry professor... I just... Malfoy said something really awful... I just lost
it, I..."

"I'm sure whatever he said *was* awful Potter, and I don't need to know about
it; that's your business... But as for the classroom, that's my business." She paused.
"I'm taking twenty points from Gryffindor.. for your serious lack of judgement."

Harry sat quietly and finally nodded.

McGonnagol's expression softened as she noted the worn look on his young face. She spoke
kindly. "It's a big burden on such a young person, isn't it?... To be the one person
that Voldemort seeks to destroy... and the one person that can ultimately destroy him."

Harry turned a distraught but surprised face to his professor. How was she able to sum up his
whole life in one sentence?

Without replying, he turned his gaze from her only to find himself staring at row upon row of
enchanted paintings in the hallways, all listening to the conversation. He heard whisperings of
*Harry Potter... boy-who-lived... isn't* *it sad...no parents...constantly set upon
by* *something evil*...

He rolled his eyes wearily, and head in hand, rested his elbow on his knee.

McGonnagol noticed the paintings and shushed them with a hard look. Reluctantly, they stopped
their gossip and resumed their original forms.

The professor put an arm about Harry's sturdy shoulders and gave him a motherly squeeze.
Harry glanced sideways at her.

"One thing I want you to always remember, Potter," she began in a soft tone, "You
are not alone."

Harry closed his eyes and shook his head slowly.

"No Potter, listen... You are *not* alone. No matter where this battle takes you, no
matter what you have to face... and even when it's ultimately down to just you and he... you
have friends; true friends who are willing to fight and even die along side of you. And every
teacher in this school will be right behind them... If you let them."

At a hard look from Harry, McGonnagol gave him a knowing smile. "Yes *every* teacher.
Even Professor Snape."

As she sat with him, she noticed tears begin running slowly down his cheeks.

"Potter?"

Harry looked up at her without embarrassment. "Professor, I don't want anyone hurt
because of me."

McGonnagol nodded, but looked Harry straight in the eyes. "I understand," she said
softly, "But don't you push anyone away... don't you dare. Do you hear me? Their lives
are their own, and they choose to risk them because they care for you... and because the fight
against Voldemort involves all of us. You can't control that; you can't even try... Let
them be with you Harry."

He paused, thinking over her words carefully. Finally he nodded, brushing away his tears
absently.

McGonnagol gave him a final pat and stood, making her way back to her classroom, but Harry
stayed on the steps for the rest of the period, lost in thought.

*************************************

Hermione and Ron met Harry after class and after rushing to his side, asked Harry what in the
world Malfoy had done.

Harry glanced sideways over Hermione's head to Ron, giving him a knowing expression.

Ron caught on quickly, and just as quickly as Harry had, his expression turned black with
anger.

"I'm sick of that bloody...I think I'll go finish the job."

"Ron..." began Harry. He needn't have worried. Just as Ron began to stomp off,
wand in hand, Hermione caught his arm. After being pulled a few steps, she was finally able to stop
him and pull him back over to Harry's side. Then, taking both of their arms, she pinched them
rather painfully.

"Ow!...'Mione, what the..." began Ron.

"What was that for!?" said Harry, rubbing his bicep and wincing.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Do you two honestly think I don't know what you're on
about? The quick glances and all... Don't try to shield me for my benefit, because I know he
said something horrible about me."

"How did you..." began Ron.

"Don't be so thick!" said Hermione reproachfully. "I've known you two for
as long as you've known each other. You think I don't understand your little silent
exchanges by now!? Well for the love of all that's..."

Hermione folded her arms over her chest and began leading them both along towards Professor
Binns' *History of Magic* class.

"And so we deserved the pinch, why?" said Ron as Harry pulled at one of her curls to
stop her.

She turned to address them both. "Why do you let him get to you? He's been the same
since first year... just a filthy prat; nothing but trouble. And now Professor Binns will be
wondering why he's not in class, and Snape's gonna find out and all of Gryffindor will get
it!... Malfoy's probably running back up to the infirmary right now..."

But as Hermione continues she couldn't help the smile that began to creep up on her face, or
the laughter she was trying to squelch, coming out in bursts. She told them off until finally, she
started snickering wildly.

"I *knew* it!" Harry pointed at her with a grin, "You loved seeing him
sprawled on the floor as much as we did!"

Hermione tried to sober. "I did not! You... probably fractured his jaw, Harry... All I did
was bruise him!"

But she couldn't hold it any longer and began to snicker even harder, much to Harry's
amusement.

Ron, ignoring them, thrust out his jaw and rubbed his arm gently, checking it for wounds.

"You bruised me..." he began distractedly, rolling up the sleeve of his robe.
"You... look there! You did! I can't belie... That's twice this week you bruised
someone, 'Mione!... Look there! Right there on my arm...You...you did!"

Harry laughed and Hermione held up two fingers at Ron with a droll expression. Suddenly, they
both started laughing.

Hermione linked arms with them both as they headed towards class, eliciting jealous stares from
a few passing girls, and leaving Harry wondering about the two finger gesture.

"What was that about..."

Ron and Hermione snickered.

"What?" asked Harry.

*********************************************

The rest of their classes went by rather quickly, and just as quickly, two o'clock rolled
around.

Potions finally let out; Snape, having fixed Harry, Ron and Hermione with suspicious glares all
throughout class since Malfoy failed to show. He had been informed of the incident the day before,
right before his class, between the three and the Slytherin boy.

As the students began rushing into the hallways and towards their houses to change clothes for
the game, Harry was stopped by a sudden grip on his shoulder. He turned to see Snape glaring
nastily at him, his greasy hair falling down in his face.

"I wonder Potter, if you know why Draco Malfoy did not show up for class..."

"I'm in Gryffindor," stated Harry, rather unaffectedly, "Why don't you
ask Crabbe or Goyle..."

He turned to leave but Snape grabbed at his robe again, whipping him around.

"They seemed to think that *you* might have an idea."

Harry shrugged. "Nope! Don't have a clue... Maybe he's been out on the field,
practicing... lord knows Slytherin needs it."

With a grin, he yanked himself free and took off towards the Gryffindor common room, leaving
Snape with a decidedly angry sneer in his wake.

Harry, Ron and Hermione changed in their rooms quickly and met back in the common area. As the
weather had suddenly taken a decidedly chilly turn, they were all dressed warmly, save Harry, who
would be sweating on the Quidditch field anyway.

"What'd Snape want..." asked Ron darkly, pulling his red and gold scarf over his
shoulders.

"Just to harass me," said Harry, reaching down to pick up his broom. "He wondered
where Malfoy was."

Ron smirked. "You should've told him he'd know where he was if he was stuck up
his..."

"**Ron***!*" yelled a shocked Hermione.

Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan passed Ron with a snicker as they were headed out towards the
field.

"Nice one Ron," said Seamus, clapping him on the back.

Harry gave Ron a crooked grin. "Well, I'm off... got forty-five minutes before the
game. I'm sure Wood wants to make sure we have our strategy down for the ninety-fifth
time..."

Hermione stood on her toes and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "Good luck then...
We'll see you after the game."

She began to climb out of the portrait door and then came back.

"If we win, everyone will be going to Hogsmeade to celebrate after the game," said
Hermione with a bright smile to Harry. "Do you think you'll be up for it?"

"Always!" said Harry grinning.

Ron cleared his throat, shaking his head. "Um... sorry to burst your bubble Hermione, but
you're forgetting... We have to go straight to dinner and back to our common rooms after.
Remember the new rules?"

"Ugh! I forgot..." said Hermione, "And I was really looking forward to it
too."

"Actually, I'm kind of relieved," said Ron, grinning at the confusion on Harry and
Hermione's faces. "I think Fred and George wanted to drag me to see a building that's
been for sale for a while. Apparently they thing it's perfect for 'Weasley's Wizard
Wheezes' next year." He put on a pained expression that made his friends laugh.

After a few minutes, Ron decided (with exaggerated air quotation marks) to let Harry and
Hermione have a moment of "*alone time*". He batted his eyes at them suggestively,
and Hermione swatted at him with part of her scarf.

He stepped out of the portrait door and waited outside for her.

The last two Gryffindors to walk out were Lavender and Parvarti, and they stopped and engaged
Harry in a short, very flirtatious conversation before continuing on.

"Good luck, Harry," said Parvarti, flipping her dark hair over her shoulder.
"I'll be rooting for you." She smiled suggestively at him and touched him on the arm
while shooting poisonous glances Hermione's way.

Next to the hearth, Hermione rolled her eyes.

Lavender pretended to laugh at Parvarti's suggestion that Harry needed luck.

She grabbed onto his other arm and leaned in to him as if by accident.

"Parvarti, everyone knows Harry doesn't need luck!" she said, tossing her hair and
batting her eyes. She tried to send him a thousand watt smile. "I know you'll be great.
Everyone knows!"

Harry glanced down at them a bit distractedly and gently tried to disentangle himself.

"Yeah, ok. Well thanks."

Hermione glanced down at her necklace and noticed that it was glowing. She looked up to Harry
and he gave her a small smile and a wink. Once again her heart flip-flopped into her stomach.

Lavender and Parvarti wiggled out of the room smugly as if they'd accomplished something.
Hermione needn't have worried. They flirted just as shamelessly with Ron when they reached the
hallway.

Harry walked over to Hermione. "Sorry about that..."

Hermione secretly thought that if she were a jealous witch, she would have swiftly strode over
there and clawed both of the girls eyes out, but fortunately she wasn't.

"Oh, I don't care... Anyway, it reminds me of what I've got." Although her
cheeks were a little flushed, she smiled brilliantly up at him.

The breath hitched in Harry's throat and he suddenly grabbed her and kissed her more deeply
than he ever had. Hermione returned the kiss with fervor. When they finally broke apart, completely
breathless, Harry thought that the explosion he had just felt must surely be written all over his
face for her to see. Hermione blushed. She had felt it too.

He grinned sheepishly and ran his fingers through his hair. "Wow... Well, I'd better go
then..."

He realized that he was about to back into a chair, and righted himself quickly.

Hermione laughed out loud as he walked towards the portrait door and mouthed *It's your
fault* at her with a grin. He finally left, letting the portrait shut behind him.

Ron was waiting in the hall, and smirked knowingly when he saw Harry.

"Good luck."

"Ron," said Harry, letting the smile slide off of his face, "Please keep an eye
on her.. Remember what we talked about."

"I haven't forgotten Harry," said Ron soberly, "I don't want anything to
happen either... but I'm not really worried. The whole school grounds have been covered with a
safety charm. No one dark'll be able to get in... McGonnagol saw to it."

"All the same," said Harry, backing down the hallway, "Just... watch out for her.
For yourself too."

Ron sighed in a you-know-you-don't-have-to-tell-me-of-all-people way. Harry smiled at
him.

"See you after." He began to jog down the hallway.

"Harry!" Ron called out.

Harry turned to squint at him through a bright beam of sunlight that shined through the window
beside him.

"Wipe the bloody lip gloss off your face; you look like an idiot..."

Harry swiped a hand over his mouth and looked at it briefly, giving Ron a triumphant wiggle of
the eyebrows before he took off down the hallway again and disappeared out of sight.

Hermione climbed out of the portrait door just in time for Ron's last comments and punched
him lightly in the shoulder.

"I heard that."

**************************************



7. Chapter 7
------------

Chapter 7

Outside, Harry dodged throngs of people that were headed towards the field although most had
arrived some time ago, due to needing to be checked in and wanting to find good seats. He had
almost made it to Gryffindor's game tower when Kard Starven, the annoyingly outgoing recruiter,
spotted him around some of the reporters he had been talking to and waved at him with a large
gap-toothed grin.

Harry thrust out his jaw in aggravation, trying to find a way to slip past him in the crowd, but
it was too late.

"Harry my boy!" Starven yelled from a short distance away.

Harry stopped mid-stride and closed his eyes briefly before turning around to give the recruiter
a false smile.

Starven approached him leaving three reporters with confused looks on their faces. He hadn't
seemed to answer even one of their questions.

Starven slapped Harry on the back amiably and grinned again. "Feeling confident today,
Potter?"

"Yeah, I feel great," Harry smiled patiently at him. "I'd better get up there
though, I'm being hailed."

Starven glanced up to where Harry looked to see a tall red-haired boy in the tower gesturing
with his thumb for Harry to get up there. He pointed to a small plank in his hand and gave Harry
the slit-throat gesture.

"Guess your coach is a little antsy," Starven turned back to Harry, "I assume the
plank stands for Oliver *Wood*."

Harry half-smiled at him. "Yeah... he's gonna kill me if I don't get up
there."

"Well, I sure envy you," Starven threw a buddy-like arm around Harry's
shoulders.

Harry gazed at him blankly. He wasn't getting the hint.

Starven continued obliviously. "When I was in Hogwarts, I was one of the best players on
the team. I'll never forget the announcer roaring out my name. 'Kardinal Starven...
Chaser!"

"Yeah, well..."

"I spent the best years of my life in Slytherin," said Starven wistfully, pulling
Harry along with him. But just as quickly he dropped his arm from the boy's shoulders and
turned to face him, with a decidedly more business-like tone.

"Well, good luck Potter. We're anxious to see what kind of seeker you are."

Harry took this as his chance for escape and took a step back towards the tower. "Thank you
Mr. Starven... We'll see you after the game." He then turned on his heels and hopped on
his broom, gliding up to the tower where his fellow teammates anxiously reached out to pull him
in.

Starven watched him for a moment more before joining his fellow wizards and smiled humorlessly.
"Maybe."

**********************************************

Ron and Hermione elbowed their way past the crowd and finally found Mr. and Mrs. Weasley with
Hagrid on one side and Ginny on the other waving down at them from a particularly high tier.

Hermione smiled at the familiar flaming red hair as she and Ron sat beside his parents.

Mrs. Weasley, a short, plump witch, reached over and gave Hermione a motherly hug and kiss on
the cheek with a smile.

"So sorry your parents couldn't be here today dear."

"Oh, that's all right," Hermione smiled, "They've needed a vacation for a
while. It just so happens that it fell during the match."

"Well all the same it's a shame," she smiled. Mrs. Weasley then turned her
attention to her son and gave him a tight hug.

Ron wheezed out a greeting. "Nice to see you mum... dad."

"You too son," said Arthur Weasley, a slight but tall wizard with thinning hair,
smiling in a relaxed way. "It sure is great to get away from the Ministry for a while... Fudge
has had us working our fingers to the bone about this warning from V... (ahem) Uh...well, about
some important issues that have come up."

The indiscretion covered, Arthur blushed a little at his slip of the tongue... but those sitting
there had caught the gist of it.

Immediately, Hermione blanched. Ron noticed and gave her arm a reassuring squeeze.

"Remember," he whispered, "the grounds are safe... Harry's safe."

Hermione nodded, staring ahead. Hagrid patted her small hand with his gigantic one and gave her
a soothing wink and a grin.

"Don' you worry none, Hermione. Harry'll be jus' fine, you'll see...
This'll be one of the mos' excitin' games yet!"

Hermione let out the breath she wasn't aware she had been holding and tried to relax. Hagrid
always made her feel better. She began to get excited for Harry's prospects as she looked down
towards the front row where the three recruiters sat; sharp eyes surveying the field and
surrounding areas.

Hermione watched for a glimpse of Harry in between catching snatches of conversation between the
Weasleys.

Molly Weasley once again reprimanded Ron for his schoolwork.

"...and don't let me hear you say that everyone in Potions has a C, because let me tell
you, I know better!"

"Molly... have off him a little," began Arthur, "the O.W.L.s are only a couple of
weeks away, maybe he'll pull up his grades then..."

Mrs. Weasley turned and gave her husband such a look that he immediately began to find the field
he had seen several times before completely interesting anew.

"Well I certainly hope your Father's right, Ronald... lord knows the Ministry won't
have you with poor grades, and your father's saving a starting position just for you after
graduation, should you want it!... Oh, and Ginny," said Molly in the same breath, her manner
completely changing as she leaned up to address her daughter. "I'm so proud of you... an A
in Herbology! (sigh) I'm sure we'll have a head girl in the family come your sixth or
seventh year."

"Thanks mum," Ginny beamed.

"Now why can't *you* apply yourself!?" Molly turned a scowl on Ron so quickly
that startled him, "You're such a smart boy!"

"Mum, Snape HATES the Gryffindors... He's hardly fair!"

"I think he rather hates you, Hermione and Harry," said Ginny quietly, but with a
wicked grin. Ron shot her a deadly scowl.

"What was that?" asked Molly.

"N..Nothing mum," replied Ron quickly, yanking his mother's attention back to him,
"Anyway... I have a *B* in Herbology!"

"Now don't change the subject!"

"Mum!" Ron whined.

Hermione grinned comfortably.

A bell clanged loudly in the field and the attention of the throng was quickly diverted to the
announcers box, which also happened to include all of Hogwarts teachers. They had finished checking
everyone in for the game, and nothing amiss had occurred; everyone having been invited that showed
up, and no one carrying a wand, as they had all been confiscated at the portkeys and the floo
networks until after the game. The teachers seemed satisfied, at least as much as they could
be.

The game announcer pointed his wand to his throat. "*Sonorus*!" Immediately his
voice began to project as if on a stadium loud speaker.

"Good afternoon witches and wizards! Welcome to the final Quidditch match of the year...
Gryffindor versus Slytherin!"

Cheers and whistling erupted from the crowd of around four hundred.

Gryffindor's side waved red and gold banners, which matched the sea of deep red and gold
cloaks and scarves the students wore, intermingled with friends and family.

Slytherin's side were equally as colorful, but with the colors of dark green and silver.

The announcer continued. "Today's game is particularly exciting as we have with us Mr.
Benjamin Versval, Mr. Kardinal Starven, and Mr. Angus Cornbluth of the 'Knights' to watch
our Hogwarts players in action! After the game today they will be exploring their options as they
decide which if any of our sixth and seventh year students may be talented enough to try out for
our famous major league team!"

Cornbluth, Starven and Versval stood and waved politely to the crowd before seating themselves
again.

"Now, without further delay," the announcer continued, "Let's begin the
game!"

The crowd roared in expectation.

"On the left side of the field, with a game status this year of two victories, let's
hear it for Slytherin!"

One by one the Slytherin players shot out of their tower like cannons, a blur of green and
silver on broomsticks as they circled the field in a straight line and came to a halt beside the
three tall poles topped with circles that served as their goals.

Through his binoculars, Ron saw Malfoy sitting atop his Nimbus 2005 with a face full of snotty
pompousness, although his jaw sported a rather nasty greenish-purple bruise. He turned his
binoculars toward Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father on Slytherin's side and saw the same
expression playing on his haughty features.

"Amazing how alike they are," yelled Ron to Hermione over the roar of the crowd.

Hermione turned her binoculars toward the elder Malfoy and nodded in agreement.

"And on the right side of the field," the announcer continued, "with a game
status this year of two victories yet again, let's hear it for Gryffindor!"

Ron, Hermione, Hagrid, and Molly, along with Arthur and Ginny joined the Gryffindor side in a
roar as the red and gold players shot out of their tower and circled the field in a V formation,
coming to rest beside their goals.

Hermione fixed her binoculars on Harry and saw him straddling his Firebolt confidently. The wind
from above blew his unruly hair into his eyes, and he swiped at it absently.

Hermione blushed as she noticed her pendant begin to glow a bit and quickly clamped a hand
around it.

Ron grabbed a handful of her monogrammed scarf and yanked gently on it.

"Are you cold, or are you blushing?" he grinned wickedly, "Relax...I already know
about the necklace."

"What?" Hermione asked surprised. "How..."

Ron shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Harry can't keep anything from me. You know
that..."

At the moment, Hermione rather wished that she didn't.

Oliver Wood sauntered out to the middle of the field where the Quidditch chest had already been
placed and kicked it open with a loud pop. The bludgers struggled against their restraints.

"Players to your positions!"

One of the Slytherin chasers, Jarius Hemdarin, rode into the middle of the field to be met by
Peter Gallor, a Gryffindor chaser. Both shook hands reluctantly and flew back from each other a
bit.

"Let's have a clean game," said Oliver, reminiscent of Madame Hootch, as he
squinted up at them. He reached down, being careful to keep his head out of the way, and flipped up
the straps to both bludgers, letting them soar wildly up into the air. They immediately began
flying haphazardly around the field. Then he picked up the snitch, its golden wings unfurling. It
lit off of his hand and darted away. Then hesitating, he grabbed the quaffle, and after a few
moments tossed it high into the air.

"And the game begins!" yelled the announcer.

Gallor sped past Hemdarin to snatch the quaffle and began speeding towards the Gryffindor goal.
Hemdarin caught up and began smashing into him as he grabbed for the ball.

Just in time, Gallor ducked as a bludger flew into Hemdarin and smashed him off course. He threw
the quaffle as hard as he could as the Slytherin keeper, Beller, performed a riding roll to try to
smash it away, but failed. A bell sounded.

"Goal Gryffindor!" screamed the announcer. Ten points were added with the flick of a
wand. The right side of the field roared with excitement.

A Slytherin chaser grabbed the quaffle and zoomed quickly towards the goal, zigzagging as George
Weasley, a beater, and Marcus Wallaby, another chaser, flew in on either side.

"George!" Weasley heard his name and saw his brother, Fred, knock a bludger towards
him. He ducked, but so did the target, leaving Wallaby to take the brunt of the hit. The bludger
glanced Wallaby's arm, leaving him howling and bloody, but not grievously injured.

The Slytherin threw the quaffle towards his goal only to have it smashed back past him by
Michelle Keys, the Gryffindor keeper. She smiled annoyingly at him, but another Slytherin had
recovered the ball and managed to get it past her and through the middle circle.

"Goal Slytherin!" yelled the announcer. Another swish and flick, and ten points were
added for Slytherin. "A tie as the two teams struggle to best each other!"

McGonnagol, above the announcer, bit her nails in excitement, but after catching Professor
Dumbledore's amused expression, dropped her hand embarrassed, and turned away.

Harry, higher than them all, circled the field, his eyes keenly searching for the snitch. He
passed Malfoy, flying at the same level and searching just as keenly. Malfoy sneered at him.

"Still on your game, Potter?"

"Jaw hurt, Malfoy?" Harry retorted.

Malfoy glared angrily as Harry glanced at the puffy discolored welt on the left side of
Draco's jaw. Malfoy had indeed had a cracked mandible, which had been quickly mended by Madame
Pomfrey, in-between her clucking and mumbling about hot-tempered boys. It hadn't been one of
Malfoy's finer moments.

Harry rolled his eyes in disgust. "Just play."

The game went on as similarly as the first half; each side managing to score around the same
number of points.

Both Harry and Malfoy soon began to realize that the snitch was really going to be the game
winner. It usually was, but in the odd chance that the rival team was more than a hundred and fifty
points ahead, catching the snitch would still not be the game winner... only the game ender.

Both had sighted it several times during the game, but somehow it kept getting lost in the blur
of bodies zooming in and out of their line of vision.

Finally, both sighted a glint of gold flitting about the lower edges of the field, and took off
at the same time.

"It looks like the snitch has been spotted!" the announcer yelled excitedly,
"Both seekers seem to be headed in the same direction..."

As if it sensed it had been detected, the snitch began flitting away at enormous speed.

Harry and Draco, both with an arm outstretched towards the tiny golden ball, rammed into one
another ferociously, the prize just out of their reach. Draco threw a fierce punch at Harry, which
he dodged with some difficulty and threw back just as quickly.

Ron had his binoculars pressed so hard against his eyes that he feared having red rings around
them afterwards. "Hermione, are you catching this!?" he grinned wildly, elbowing her.

He quickly realized that he was elbowing air. Lowering his binoculars, he looked over to
Hagrid.

"Where's Hermione?"

"Went with Ginny to get summat fer me from concessions," said Hagrid, rubbing his
stomach absently, for his focus was really on the game. "I've only had rock cakes fer
breakfast. I'm starvin'!"

Ron calmed himself and placed the glasses back up to his eyes again. "Oh well... she's
with Ginny. That's ok then..."

He continued to watch the game just as Harry and Malfoy both cast themselves off of their
brooms, reaching for the same goal. Since they had both been traveling through the air at almost
record speed, they both skidded onto the ground, rolling and flying through the air as if
weightless. When they finally both came skidding to a halt, neither was able to move yet. The crowd
collectively gasped and jumped to their feet in expectation.

"Wait... wait," the announcer crooned anxiously, "We don't yet know who has
it or if it's been caught."

Malfoy shook himself back to reality first, his pale skin and blonde hair mangled with sweat and
grime. Feeling one of his hands around the snitch, he gritted his teeth into a greedy smile of
triumph.

"Yes!" he breathed out to himself. He waited for Potter to pick himself up. He wanted
everyone to see his face when the snitch was held up.

Harry raised himself shakily to his elbows and knees, spitting a mouthful of dirt onto the
ground; his hands and arms covered with small nicks and cuts. He twisted himself around and sat up,
shaking the sweat and grime from his hair; his face also covered with perspiration and dirt.

Finally he glanced at Malfoy, who was grinning cheshire-like across from him and then looked up
to the sky. Both teams were hovering above them in anticipation.

"What're you on about?" Harry asked gruffly as he stood to his feet. Malfoy
followed.

"I caught it," he said simply, smiling haughtily back.

The crowd murmured amongst themselves eagerly.

"*You* caught it," Harry repeated. "Let me see."

Malfoy held out a fist and opened it. The crowd gasped, and then rocked back with
disappointment. Harry stared at Malfoy, and flicked a gaze from Malfoy's hand to his face.

Malfoy was holding a rock. A smooth and very round one, but a rock nonetheless. He stared in
horror.

"It's more yellow," said Harry, holding out his hand, "Sort of like
this."

The snitch lit off of his hand and hovering in front of his face, took off once again. Harry
watched it fly away, beaming.

The crowd gasped and Gryffindor's side began cheering wildly. The sound was deafening.

Gryffindor's team screamed in delight and began a victory lap around the field. Somewhere up
in the stands, Wood jumped up and down, screaming for joy.

"Game over!" screamed the announcer, "With Slytherin at ninety points, and
Gryffindor at two hundred and twenty points... Gryffindor wins the house cup!"

McGonnagol, grinning from ear to ear, jumped up in excitement and grabbed Snape's shoulders,
laughing and shaking him to within an inch of his life, gushing.

"Isn't it wonderful!?" Then McGonnagol realized she was gripping the head of
Slytherin house. "Oh... I'm s... better luck next year, Severus."

It took all the self control Snape had not to thrash her senseless. Beside him, Dumbledore
chuckled.

Ron watched as Harry began being beaten almost to death by the rest of his team as they screamed
happily and threw him up into the air. Wood rushed onto the field and knocked Harry to the ground
in congratulations.

Ron grinned and turned to celebrate with Hermione, but she still hadn't returned.

"I can't believe she missed this!" Ron yelled to Hagrid.

Hagrid, munching on his hotdog and Bertie Botts every flavor beans turned to Ron, swallowing a
mouthful.

"Ginny said she stayed down at the sidelines to watch... Said she was talkin' to
someone; didn't mention who... I'm sure she didn't miss it. Probably down there right
now waitin' ta meet Harry off the field."

But Ron clutched his sweater to his chest. Something felt wrong. You couldn't really see
much from the ground in Quidditch. Surely she would've come back up in the stands to watch
Harry, or at least to invite Ron to come back with her to watch from where she was.

"Um... I'll see you Hagrid," said Ron making his way nervously past him.

"Where're you goin' so quick?"

"Just want to find Hermione..." said Ron nodding to his mother, father, and Ginny as
he shoved past them.

"Wait!...Well what the...," began Arthur Weasley, "Where is that boy off to
now?"

Ron, trying to free himself from the crowded steps leading down to the ground, opted to jump
instead. He vaulted over the banister, landing somewhat awkwardly and began scanning the crowd for
her familiar long brown hair. Once he thought he caught sight of her.

"Hermione, where did you go?" he said catching her arm and turning her.

A fifth year Ravenclaw stared up at him in confusion.

"Oh...sorry... I'm sorry." Ron dropped her arm and felt himself start to
panic.

*No...No calm down... She's on school grounds... she's safe...*

But the longer he waded through the crowd, the more his stomach began to churn. He saw Harry,
walking out of the field dragging his Firebolt behind him, and surrounded by his fellow teammates,
grinning brilliantly. Through the crowd, he caught sight of Ron and his eyes lit up.

"Oy, Ron!" he waved to him, a grin splitting his face.

Ron felt nauseated. He turned from Harry's gaze to scan the crowd once more for Hermione.
Surely she would've been at the field to congratulate him.

Harry turned to speak to his teammates and ducked quickly as a mixed throng of reporters and one
or two recruiters surrounded them, hovering microphones and cameras blocking their escape.

Deftly, he squeezed between a reporter and her cameraman and trotted over to Ron.

"Did you see that!?" He grinned, almost sounding like a young boy again, "Malfoy
had a rock..." But his voice trailed off as he caught the sick look on his friends face. Ron
opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.

"Ron..." said Harry in confusion. He scanned the crowd around him and peered up into
the stands. He saw Molly, Arthur, Hagrid and Ginny making their way happily down the stairs. They
caught his eye and waved at him, grinning proudly.

"Ron..." Harry began to feel a wave of sickness sweep over him in a rush that made him
weak. "Where is she..."

He saw Ron's eyes fill with tears, and it terrified him. Harry had never seen his friend
tear up about anything. He gripped Ron's shoulders so hard that it hurt.

"RON!"

"I don't know."

The words were simple and devastating at the same time. Harry's hands fell and he stumbled
backward dropping his broom. His breathing became shallow.

"What...you were...with her. Where did she go?"

"She went with Ginny to concession to get Hagrid some food," Ron began quietly,
"Ginny came back alone."

Harry felt his eyes begin to sting. This couldn't be happening...it's not
happening...

"Ginny said she left her talking to someone."

*I'm dreaming...I've got to wake up. She's here somewhere. It doesn't mean he
took her...he couldn't have...It doesn't mean...*

"She said she'd be back up in a few minutes..."

*The grounds are covered...she didn't leave...she's safe here...she's*
*safe...*

"Harry..."

*I'll find her...she's here somewhere...probably waiting for me somewhere. I just
can't see her. Why can't I see her!?*

"Harry!" Ron yelled.

Harry realized he was surrounded by a few reporters, Ron's family, and Hagrid, all staring
at him with concern. Ron clenched and unclenched his jaw.

"No one watches from the ground. You can't see anything."

Harry and Ron stared at each other for what seemed like only a millisecond before they both took
off; Harry on his broom, and Ron running.

"Somethin's wrong," said Hagrid to the Weasleys, "I don't think they can
fin' Hermione."

Harry mounted his broom and pushed off as if he were on the outside of his body looking in. The
thing was so hard for him to accept that he felt like he would awaken at any moment. As his eyes
searched the ground below, he clutched at his chest. He'd never really known what it felt like
to have his heart broken, as he had never really known his parents when they were taken from him;
but the more he scanned the grounds, the more desolate he became. As they emptied, it became more
and more clear that Hermione was not there.

His throat constricted and his chest began to ache. He began to understand the sensation of
heart break.

He realized that he had flown farther past the field than Hermione would have willingly gone and
landed his broom. He found that he was near Hagrid's hut and began to traipse the short
distance to it.

An unlikely, but hopeful thought hit him that maybe, for some reason, he might find Hermione
there. Harry knew there was no explanation for it, but felt himself nonetheless drawn closer to the
dilapidated hut and therefore closer to the edges of the Forbidden Forest.

As he approached it, he realized that Hagrid's door had been blown off of its hinges.

Quickly, Harry stepped to the side of the open doorway and drew his wand, listening with bated
breath for any movement inside. Finally, hearing nothing, he slowly stepped around the scorched
door on the ground and stepped up into Hagrid's home.

The place had been torn apart, and worse, it looked as if a battle had taken place. The table
and chairs were thrown over, books were scattered haphazardly, the fireplace looked as if it had
just been in recent use and not cleaned, and there were scorch marks marring the walls and floor as
if someone had blown the place apart with his wand.

Nausea once again threatened Harry as he scanned the hut, looking for some clue as to what must
have gone on. He'd been to Hagrid's hut so often that he could picture how everything was
supposed to be.

The chairs and table had been there against the wall, the old Hogwarts schoolbooks and books
about different magical animals had been on that part of the bookshelf; the other part had been
lined with clay pots and jars...

As he stood, mentally piecing things together, the soft crackling of footsteps on glass startled
him around. He whirled quickly, his wand outstretched.

"Careful Harry," came the soft scratchy voice of Dumbledore, "It's all right
now... lower that."

Harry dropped his wand slowly and forced his blurred eyes to focus on his Headmaster. When he
spoke, his voice was barely a whisper.

"Professor...Hermione's missing." His throat closed up so tight that it almost
hurt to speak and he dropped his head.

"I know." Dumbledore closed his eyes for a moment and nodded, and then held out
something for the young man to see. "We've already looked for her...Harry, I don't
think you'll find her here."

Harry looked up quickly to see that Dumbledore was holding out his hand, gripping something
colored red and gold that looked suspiciously like a Gryffindor scarf.

He crossed the room in three steps and grabbed it greedily from the Headmaster.

It looked as if it had been dragged through the dirt, and was scorched with a long streak of
ash. Harry looked towards the end of the material and saw what he dreaded...the initials H.G.

Dropping the scarf as if it burned him, he stumbled past Dumbledore and around Hagrid's
house to find a bush to vomit behind. He'd never felt so sick in his life.

As he sat up, coughing and trying to slow his heart, he heard Hagrid's heavy footfalls
moving towards his house.

"Perfessor Dumbledore, what are you..."

Harry heard Hagrid pause and gasp as he caught sight of his ruined home. Quickly the giant
stepped inside, his large jaw dropping at the destruction.

"What happened here..." He was too stunned to move.

"Harry just happened upon it," explained Dumbledore, reaching down to pick up the
discarded scarf once more.

At that moment Ron ran up, skidding to a halt and trying hard to catch his breath. His face was
red and sweaty from running. He also looked sick.

"Hagrid, Professor Dumbledore...wh...what happened!? Where's Harry? I thought I saw him
land over here..."

Harry made his way back around the house, pale and shaken with a heavy sense of guilt that had
begun to form in the pit of his stomach.

He looked Ron over for a moment before speaking.

"I'm right here, Ron."

Ron whirled and saw his friend approaching him, looking pale and over-wrought.

Harry walked to Dumbledore and held his hand out. The headmaster in turn handed him something,
which he held out to Ron.

As Ron took the scarf and fingered the H.G. lettering, his already pale face turned a more ashen
shade of white.

"What're we gonna do..." he said to no one in particular, "We don't even
know who has her... or where, or why..."

Once again, the calm scratchy voice of reason spoke into the chaos. "What we will not do is
panic," said Dumbledore, "As soon as we saw that Miss Granger was missing, we stopped all
people from leaving. We will question each one in turn to see who last saw her at the game... where
they saw her and who with..."

"She was with me," said Ron, clutching his chest, "I was supposed to look out for
her, I..."

Harry, leaning against the smudged door jamb, turned red-rimmed eyes towards Ron.

"Harry, I'm so sorry..." Ron choked out, "I thought she'd be safe on the
grounds...she just went to concession with Ginny...I..."

Harry closed his eyes, too emotional to speak but held his hand up. He didn't blame Ron. If
anything, he blamed himself. Voldemort had never been after Hermione; he was after Harry, and using
her to get to him. It was as clear as crystal to him in that moment. His "date", so to
speak, with destiny had finally come and, Harry thought angrily, he would have to be up for the
challenge.

Previous conversations that he had just recently had began to haunt his mind.

*...and if we stay on Hogwarts grounds we're safe*...

*...that's all it is, just a rumor...*

A wave of nausea swept over Harry again and he forced it back down. He'd never hated himself
so much in all his life.

McGonnagol's reasoning voice also plagued him.

*...Let them be with you Harry...you can't control them...you can't even*
*try...*

And then Hermione's voice.

*...even if we did go back to being just friends, nothing would change...I'm not gonna
leave you...I'm gonna be right by you through everything...You're worth every minute to
me...*

Guilt and dread enveloped Harry at that moment in a slow, heavy suffocation. This happened
because of him. It was his fault. He felt himself staggering under the weight and sat to the ground
quickly, his head in his hands. All the brashness and confidence of the Harry that he had known
less than two hours ago was gone, to be replaced with confusion and ultimately, desolation.

He felt a strong, wizened hand grip his shoulder and looked up to see Dumbledore standing above
him.

At that moment, Harry lost it. He began to cry like he had never done before in his life. Great
wracking sobs shook his body and he felt all the strength leave him as he sunk lower and lower.

Hagrid and Ron, with tears in their eyes, stepped back from the scene in confusion. Ron, for his
part, had never seen Harry Potter cry. He realized that seeing his usually brave friend lose it
completely terrified him, as well as making the situation dangerously more real.

Dumbledore grunted as he sat beside Harry on the ground and continued to grip the boy's
shoulder until he had cried himself into exhaustion.

When there were no more tears, Harry lifted his head and leaned it back against Hagrid's
house in despair.

"I'm so sorry," he began in a husky voice, "Ron, Professor, Hagrid... this is
all because of me..."

Dumbledore's grip tightened on Harry and he turned calmly to Hagrid and Ron. "If you
wouldn't mind, I think there is still a lot of confusion going on down at the field... Hagrid,
would you please go help Professor McGonnagol and the rest of the teachers round up our guests for
questioning, and then help escort them to the portkeys or the floo network? And Mr. Weasley, please
go round up the prefects, and tell them to take the students back to their common rooms
immediately."

Hagrid and Ron nodded and mumbling their assent, went quickly to do what the Headmaster
asked.

Dumbledore turned his attention back to Harry.

"Now Harry... is there anyone you've noticed lately that you might suspect of
this?"

Harry turned a surprised, red-rimmed gaze to him. "From the school?"

Dumbledore nodded patiently. "The professors and I performed the safety charm on the
grounds last night, which would have kept out any intruders. But it wouldn't have helped if the
person were already on school grounds."

Harry shook his head slowly but then remembered his scar. "My scar did start burning
yesterday morning though...but I just thought it was another confirmation that the rumor was
true... I never suspected anyone at the school..."

Again Harry vehemently chided himself for his own foolishness. What if the person had been in
the school the whole time?... Even near the common room...

Harry realized that he was gripping Hermione's scarf so hard that his fingernails had dug
into the flesh of his hand, causing him to bleed.

Dumbledore dropped the hand from Harry's shoulders and spoke to him in that quiet
understanding way that Harry found hard to ignore.

"Harry... I want you to understand something," the Headmaster looked tired and worn
himself, "Voldemort must've had a servant on the grounds at least a day before the game.
This is going to make it very difficult to find the culprit... what with the hundred or more
witches and wizards that were here today. But we will not stop searching for the intruder. He will
be found."

At that moment, Dumbledore's eyes flashed something much different than the trademark warm
twinkle, and Harry found it easy to understand why the Headmaster was feared by Voldemort.

"I also want you to understand something else," continued Dumbledore, "I fear
that this battle is going to be between you and the dark lord alone... I know that you realize that
he took your friend to lure you to him... and that you also realize that off of school grounds and
away from the Dursley's you are no longer under any protection."

"I know," said Harry determinedly, "But that won't stop me."

Dumbledore sighed and nodded, helping Harry to his feet.

"First we must find out why Hagrid's home was destroyed. It may help us understand what
has happened to Miss Granger... Can you think of a spell to help us?"

Harry nodded wearily. Dumbledore probably knew a hundred spells to help at this moment, but he
was ever the teacher.

Harry took out his wand and extended his arm toward Hagrid's ruined home.

"*Prius* *Composito*."

Magically, things that were broken began to mend. Large shards shot to their counterparts and
sealed immediately, and when a jar or vase was through repairing, it placed itself back in its
prearranged position. Books closed themselves and sailed back to their positions; chairs began
righting themselves and scooted back under the roughly hewn table top. Hagrid's cauldron,
toppled on its side, sailed through the air and hung itself back over the hearth. Long streaks of
ash, and gashes in the wood of the walls began to disappear and the large oak door sailed back to
its opening and re-latched itself, the wood healing on its own.

The last thing to repair itself was the window by the door. The large and small jagged pieces of
glass flew up to the window and began fitting together as panes. When the window had finally
completed itself, the cracks began to seal quickly until the glass was one whole pane again.

"Good," said Dumbledore, satisfied. "Now we will see if Hagrid can find if
anything is missing."

As if on cue, Hagrid , having completed his task in helping secure the school grounds, ambled up
behind Dumbledore and Harry.

Harry turned quickly to him, a flicker of hope in his eyes.

"Hagrid... any news?"

The giant sighed greatly, swiping a tear from his eye. "No Harry, I'm sorry. Ain'
no one seen her... not even yer classmates... An' all the guests checked out clean... is'
like she disappeared."

Harry put a hand to his forehead and willed himself to stay calm.

Dumbledore turned to the giant, remembering the task at hand. "Hagrid, will you please
search your home and see if anything is missing? It may help us find Miss Granger."

"'Course." Hagrid felt a little sheepish at not having thought of that
himself.

There was very little searching to be done; it wasn't very hard to figure out if anything
was gone since Hagrid had so little.

On the shelf of his bookcase, where even the dust had replaced itself, he found three jars, and
beside those, a clean ring of wood surrounded by dust where one jar should have been. He turned
back to the Headmaster and Harry.

"Only one thing missin' here... though I was supposed ter have delivered it ta Madame
Pomfrey a couple a days ago," Hagrid blushed at his mistake, " 'S jus' a jar of
Flame Drock ashes."

***********************************************

Dumbledore and Harry walked quickly back to the school after having said goodnight to
Hagrid.

Harry had managed to pull himself out of despondence enough to get dangerously angry, and he was
letting Dumbledore know it, and of his impatience as well.

"I need to find out where she is," he spoke huskily, "I shouldn't even be
going back to the school..."

"You need direction first Harry," said Dumbledore firmly, "Better to know where
you're headed than to waste time wandering..."

"I'm wasting time now!" Harry yelled. "I don't understand why there's
no note or anything to help me find her! How am I supposed to come to Voldemort when I don't
know where he is!?"

They reached the huge double doors to the school and stepped into the quiet, deserted halls.

"Perhaps you will have your answer soon," said Dumbledore, grabbing Harry's
shoulder. "The teachers and I, along with the recruiters, will be having another meeting
tonight, to discuss what will happen now, and what we can do in the meantime."

Once again, the Headmaster looked at Harry with compassion.

"Search out your answer as you, Ronald, and Hermione always have. Let the memory of your
past adventures guide you."

At the mention of Hermione's name, Harry once again felt his heart rip in two and shuddered
out a sigh. She was usually the one that found the answers, while he and Ron took action. They
needed *her* to find her. Despondence began to lay its icy hands on his shoulders once
more.

Dumbledore spoke to him again. "One last thing Harry. Grief... is a great adversary, but
can also be used to help you...Despair on the other hand... will rob you of any help or hope you
have left."

Once again he clapped a tight hand on the young man's shoulders.

"Don't let it take hold of you...not here...and especially not when facing Voldemort,
if it comes to that. It can destroy you, just as surely as dark magic can."

Harry nodded at the wise old wizard and grabbed his arm in appreciation, but one thing more
plagued him.

"Professor, about the flame drock ash... I don't understand why the intruder would take
it, unless...unless he was wounded somehow... or unless Hermione was." Harry blinked hard at
the thought.

"The ash is used to heal many wounds and ailments Harry; you're right. Perhaps you can
start there."

With a last squeeze to the shoulder, Dumbledore left him to head toward the meeting. Along with
discussing the new situation, they would also be discussing how and when the recruiters might get
along with their business as well. Even barring the student kidnapping, he knew protocol still had
to be recognized. The game had still been played, and it still had to be decided where and when it
would be appropriate to let the recruiters tag their candidates.

He was just thankful that McGonnagol had managed to get rid of all of the reporters.

As Dumbledore headed in one direction, Harry took off in the other, headed towards the
Gryffindor common room as fast as his legs would carry him.

******************************************



8. Chapter 8
------------

Chapter 8

(An hour earlier)

It was dark, but warm. When Hermione came too, she felt herself lying on something scratchy and
rough, irritating her skin. As she tried to open her eyes her head burst with pain.

"Does Potter know yet..." a scratchy high -pitched voice sounded from somewhere very
near.

Immediately Hermione closed her eyes once again, suddenly aware that she was not alone. The
events of the last hour came back to her mind in a rush of sound and vision. The man at the game,
asking her questions about Harry, fooling her into thinking he was interested in him because of the
game... then he had a wand on her; she had escaped far enough ahead of him to hide in the only
place she could see in the near distance, Hagrid's house. But he found her there... the wand
fight; he had finally subdued her. She remembered being tossed unceremoniously over his
shoulder...he stepped into Hagrid's unlit fireplace, threw some powder, and they disappeared in
a cloud of green smoke and fire. She must've passed out again, because here she was, in this
strange place, with no idea where he'd taken her...

"No my lord, he's still in the game. B..But he will know soon enough..."

The voice was the voice of her captor, but the other...who did it belong to? She had never
actually heard Voldemort's voice; it had only been described to her by Harry, and then not with
much detail, as Harry never liked to talk much about the dark lord or his experiences with him. Her
mind wouldn't allow her to process such horrible information. Surely her captor had taken her
for other reasons... he wasn't in with Voldemort... not him... He didn't seem the type,
although in reality, neither had Professor Quirrel.

"And the cloaking spell... has it held out?"

The servant paused for a moment. He knew it *never* boded well to lie to Voldemort. He
always saw right through it...especially when the lie was coming from one of his own. Somehow
coming into allegiance with the dark lord gave him a hold on the person's mind, not in the
controlling sense, but as if he could tell what you were thinking, and feeling. So, as the cloaking
spell no longer mattered, the servant opted for the truth.

"I...I forgot to recast it, my lord...but he never saw my face. I was outside of the
Gryffindor common area early this morning, and I heard him scream...I knew the password, so I
peeked in to look, and the boy was on the floor, clutching at his forehead...I...I know he felt my
presence, b..but he didn't see me...I made sure of that..."

"*Fool!* You could have ruined *everything*!" The other's voice
screeched in an unearthly roar, "Had Potter decided to run to his door, at that very instant
the plan would have fallen apart!"

Hermione heard a swish, but curiously no footsteps as the obvious head of the operation crossed
the room to where his accomplice stood.

"M...my lord!" the servant stuttered, obviously backing away a bit, "B...but he
didn't! I...I captured Granger without a hitch! And by now, surely he knows she's gone, and
from what I understand of their relationship... Th...they're very close... He'll be looking
for her right now!"

When he replied, the head conspirator's voice was low, and very dangerous. "And that
fact is the only thing that's keeping you alive at this moment."

"Y...yes, my lord...I understand...I'm sorry, I should have been m...more
careful...b..but she is here, and no one is the wiser..."

"Yes, and now for the rest of the plan," said the scratchy high pitched voice.
"Return to Hogwarts, and tell Potter that I have Granger. Lead him back to me. Remember, if
you succeed, I have the ability to give you power beyond anything you've ever experienced, as
my right hand... but if you fail... the consequences will be dire indeed."

The servant stuttered a reply, and walked quickly over to the unlit fireplace, stepping into it.
With a whoosh of green flames and smoke he was gone, leaving Hermione alone with the head
captor.

Through barely opened eyes, she saw him get up, and point his wand towards the fireplace. The
energy that shot out of the wand was a deep red, and it immediately kindled a fire that glowed a
deep, unearthly ruby. Then he moved towards a doorway that obviously led to a different room. If
only she could see his face; he wore a long black cloak with a large hood that completely covered
his features. She would feel much better prepared to fight if she could see her captor.

The mysterious man took one glance in her direction, and moved silently out of the room.

Hermione lay for some time, making sure that he was not coming back anytime soon. Finally, when
he didn't re-emerge, she pulled herself up to her knees, her first and immediate thought being
of escape. As soon as she fully opened her eyes, though, her head burst again with a fresh wave of
pain. She brought trembling fingers to her forehead, probing, and they came back sticky and red
with blood.

As her vision began to focus more clearly, she found herself on a scratchy, dirty wool rug just
a few feet from the hearth.

The fire, which could have been warm and inviting like the ones at Hogwarts, instead gave off an
extra-ordinary heat and crackled and danced a glowing deep ruby, throwing the whole room into an
eerie red glow.

As her eyes focused on the fire, she finally noticed something horrible that made her instantly
recoil.

A large python slept curled up near the hearth, only feet away from her. Its diamond shaped head
told her all she needed to know about whether or not it was poisonous. The snake was capable of
crushing, or poisoning its prey to death, but thankfully, it still had not stirred.

As deathly still as possible, Hermione began to take in the rest of her surroundings.

The cabin was medium sized, with two wooden pillars on either side of the main door. Only a few
chairs adorned the room she was in, along with a small pantry, a bookshelf full of spell books, a
few barrels and boxes, and a broom and cauldron.

As she was in the library so often at Hogwarts, she recognized most of the books as Dark Arts
copies, that were usually in the restricted section.

Hermione's eyes rested on the door between the pillars, and her thoughts turned toward her
wand. As she put her hand to the pocket of her robe, she realized that it wasn't there.
Frantically she began to pat herself down, and found nothing. Of course he would have taken
it...

She closed her eyes as a wave of nausea washed over her. She was defenseless.

As she slowly stood to her feet, keeping her eyes peeled for her captor, she darted her eyes
around the room, finally focusing above her at the mantle, high above the fireplace.

There, blessedly sticking out a bit over the lip was her wand. She felt her heart flip
anxiously. If she could just find something to stand on she may be able to reach it.

Still sensing no one around her, she found a short, hollow barrel on the far side of the room,
and tip-toed over to it, carrying it as quietly as she could back to the fireplace. She climbed on
top of it, precariously balancing as her fingers reached for the tip of her wand.

"That wouldn't be wise." The hoarse high-pitched voice sounded from a dark corner
of the room. Voldemort smiled mirthlessly in the dark. He had apparated there a few minutes ago,
having spotted Hermione trying to make her escape, and watched her in mild amusement. After all,
why not have a little fun while he waited for Potter?

Startled, Hermione felt herself tipping off of the barrel and screamed, trying to regain her
balance. But before she could, her captor held out his wand and bellowed, his voice like
fingernails on a blackboard.

"*Expelliarmus!*"

The barrel under Hermione exploded into fragments and she fell with a hard thud to the
floor.

As she struggled to pick herself back up she shook so hard she could barely make her body obey,
besides the fact that the fall had split open a large gash on her left knee.

Willing her body to move, she turned to peer into the dark corner, searching for the face that
owned the voice. She saw nothing in the blackness until two red slits began to open and focused
their unearthly gaze in her direction.

Hermione backed away, stumbling in panic. It couldn't be...so close to school grounds... But
if she hadn't known the voice, the eyes were unmistakable...Harry had told both her and Ron
about the eyes that no one else in the wizarding world could own...

The face of her captor began to take form as he rose and began to glide toward her, his feet not
seeming to hit the floor.

The hideous red eyes seemed to be widening in pleasure. The ghostly pale face held a pair of
slits for nostrils and a sickening skeletal like grin.

Hermione backed away, glancing left and right for something... anything to help her. She felt
herself back into a corner, being able to go no further, and cowered back as far as she could.

Voldemort chuckled as he remembered a ridiculous Muggle expression..."deer in the
headlights." Granger seemed to personify just that at the moment.

Gasping for air and shuddering violently, Hermione forced herself to glare bravely into his
eyes.

"I know who you are, Tom Riddle...I know why I've been brought here. If you think
Harry's gonna be foolish enough to come out here alone to face you, you're out of your
mind!"

"Oh, but he will..." said Voldemort cackling again in a throaty, scratchy voice. Then
he simply pointed at her chest with his wand.

Hermione glanced down to see the necklace that Harry had given her just a couple of nights ago
glowing brightly in the already reddish glare of the room.

Quickly she grabbed the pendant shielding the light from Voldemort as if somehow she could
protect Harry by doing so.

Voldemort smiled mirthlessly. "I already know about it... My servant, worthless as he may
seem, did make it a point to follow Potter around the school... He's filled me in on all of his
exploits. It glows when Potter thinks of you...It actually hasn't stopped since you've been
here. Quite touching, really."

Hermione gripped the pendant tighter, forcing the point of the heart to dig painfully into her
palm.

Voldemort glided closer to her until he was only yards away.

"I know he will come for you. And when he does, he'll be out of school grounds and out
of Dumbledore's protection. When he's dead, I'll be restored to my full power. So you
see... I *will* kill him." Again he grinned, delighted in his own plan.

"No!" Hermione began to sob. She looked up at Voldemort with pleading eyes. "Take
me...take me instead...Don't hurt him..."

Voldemort had had enough. Again he raised his wand angrily.

"*Expelliarmus!*"

The curse hit Hermione in the chest, splitting the chain from her neck and smashing her back
against the corner. She slid to the floor in a heap, her school robes billowing around her like a
blanket.

Voldemort turned with a swish of his cloak and floated to his chair, throwing himself into it
angrily.

As she lay on the floor, struggling to breathe, Hermione willed herself to reach out as far as
she could with her hand and grasp her necklace, dragging it back to her.

Having no more strength, she held it to her face, only vaguely aware that the pendant had become
so hot due to the constant glowing that her tears hissed off of it as water would when dropped on a
hot stove.

With a last glance at the ruby colored heart, Hermione closed her eyes and let blackness engulf
her.

Nagini lifted his diamond shaped head and hissed to Voldemort.

"You're right Nagini...she *is* a fool. No one matters but Potter...no
one."

*****************************************

Harry skidded to a halt in front of the fat lady and spoke in a hoarse voice, his heart beating
wildly.

"Chocolate frogs."

"Well it's about time," replied the lady haughtily, "The new curfew was an
hour ago..."

"Just open up!" Harry yelled angrily. He dropped his gaze and looked at her almost in
warning.

The portrait gaped. She'd never in her whole existence been spoken to in such a manner...
But feeling curiously intimidated, she complied.

"I never in all my life..." she sputtered as she creaked open, "How rude and
insolent..."

Harry almost threw himself through the doorway. Instantly he was set upon by as throng of
Gryffindors; students and Quidditch teammates alike.

"Harry, I'm so sorry..."

"Did you find her? Any trace?"

"The teachers questioned everyone...Every body turned out clean..."

"Is that her scarf your holding!?" This was Ginny Weasley, who had become very close
to Hermione in the past year. Her voice was so tight with emotion that it came out in a squeak.

Harry looked at her and nodded. His eyes were haunted enough that she knew something terrible
had happened.

"Where's Dumbledore?" began the questioners again.

"I heard about Hagrid's hut...What happened?"

"Where's Ron!?" It came out in more of a roar than Harry had intended, but
everyone seemed to understand, and backed off a bit.

"He's upstairs," said George Weasley, "He hasn't been able to talk to
anyone...He's bloody messed up..."

Harry nodded curtly and wove his way through the crowd, taking the steps to the boys dorms two
at a time.

He ran over to Ron's bed and yanked the curtains back.

"C'mon Ron...We need to go to the library, now." It was more of a demand than a
request.

Ron, sitting Indian-style on his bed, just continued to stare down at his hands. If Harry's
voice was strident, he didn't notice.

"I'm so sorry, Harry." His voice came out in a high-pitched croak, in-between
breathing and sobbing. "I'm so sorry."

"No time for that," said Harry quickly, "Let's go...I need you..."

Ron looked up at him numbly. "What for... I failed you...I failed her..."

"Don't be daft!" Harry almost yelled. He grabbed Ron's arm and yanked him
up.

Ron was approximately the same height and weight as Harry. If he had wanted to fight, he
certainly could have given Harry a challenge.

Instead he continued to stare at him numbly.

Harry gritted his teeth and began to shake his best friend.

"Ron this isn't like you!...C'mon, snap out of it...I need you!"

Ron just shook his head.

"Don't make me hit you!" Harry yelled, mindless of the frustrated tears beginning
to spill down his face. He balled up a fist and held it back to strike him, but dropped it just as
quickly, knowing he'd never do it.

"Ron, Dumbledore said something to me tonight...He said grief can be used to help you, but
despair will take away all hope."

Fresh tears welled up in Ron's eyes and he swiped at them absently.

"Ron, I need your help...Dumbledore said that we should search out our answer, just like we
always have... I think he's right."

Slowly Ron looked up, regaining some of his old fire as he saw it burn in Harry.

"In the library..."

Harry nodded, searching Ron's face.

"I think you're right." Ron smiled a little and Harry was reassured. He needed his
friend to be strong. He needed it to help him be strong...for Hermione.

Harry began to run out of the door, Ron at his heels until Ron skidded to a halt.

"Wait..."

Ron jogged back to his bed and reaching his school trunk, he thrashed it open and grabbed his
crystal ball, a parchment and a quill.

"Somehow I think we might actually use this."

Harry gave him a quizzical look but nodded.

Both ran downstairs and towards the common room, but Harry ran to Ginny before leaving and
placed his hands on her shoulders, looking at her intently.

"I know you've been asked this Ginny, but you really didn't recognize the man you
left Hermione with?"

Ginny turned red-rimmed eyes up to Harry. "I didn't see his face. After I bought
Hagrid's food, Hermione was already talking to him. She was over by the field gate, but he was
mostly hidden behind part of the tower. She saw me coming over and waved me back. She said
she'd be back up in a few minutes."

A fresh sob escaped her lips. "How I wish I'd have gone over anyway to see who she was
talking to... I should've known... No one else was down there and the concession stand was
turned away from them...no one saw them but me..."

Harry grabbed her in a swift hug, releasing her quickly. "Don't do that...You're
not responsible."

Ron walked over and put a hand on his sister's cheek.

"We'll find her Ginny...just keep your hopes up."

Ginny nodded mutely and watched as her brother and Harry once again wove their way past the mob
of Gryffindor students and pushed open the portrait door, letting it slam shut behind them.

***********************************************

Harry had had the foresight to grab his father's old invisibility cloak as he knew that it
was after curfew. Even if it wasn't he knew the Hogwarts drill. Whenever anything really bad
happened, students were usually confined to their common rooms, as was the case now.

Holding the cloak up over he and Ron, they tried to jog as silently and in sync as possible
towards the library, making sure to keep an eye out for Filch and Mrs. Norris.

As they finally reached the library and looked around silently for anyone else, they make their
way to the restricted section of the huge room, both secretly feeling that the answer would lie
there.

The wrought iron gate that separated the section from the other part of the library was kept
locked, although neither Harry or Ron knew why, as it was easily charmed open.

Harry pulled out his wand as Ron's arms were full and whispered.

"*Alohamora*."

The lock on the gate fell into Harry's outstretched hand and he placed it quietly on a
table.

He swung open the gate, which creaked a little too loudly for their comfort, and he and Ron
entered.

As Harry removed the cloak and Ron and he were visible again, both realized with a shudder just
how much they hated the library's restricted section. Even the feel of the area was different;
almost darker somehow.

Both boys muttered *Lumos*, the tips of their wands lighting, and both decided to take
different paths through the section.

"What'm I looking for," asked Ron flatly, his pale face barely illuminated by his
wand.

"I don't know," said Harry, "I really don't. Maybe a book on summoning
charms...anything."

Ron swallowed roughly. He had really hoped that Harry had a plan, but Harry looked just as lost
as he was. Ron suddenly looked down at Harry's left hand.

"What'd you still have that for?"

Harry glanced down, and with a start, he realized that he hadn't let go of Hermione's
scarf since grabbing it back from Dumbledore.

"I...I don't know."

With a haunted expression, Harry fingered the scarf, unwilling still to put it down.

Ron nodded in understanding. "See you in a bit."

As he watched Ron round the corner of one of the bookshelves, Harry faced the one beside him,
bringing his wand up to look at the titles.

*Goblin Uprisings of the 1650's...The Dark Arts: A History of Evil...Lost and Found:
Magical Incantations for the Unknown...*

The third book caught his attention. Hermione's whereabouts were unknown. She was lost...at
least to them. Maybe this was what they were looking for. His heart gave a hopeful leap as he
pulled the book from the shelf and placed it on the table.

Not willing to call Ron back yet for fear that he was wrong, Harry sat down and opened the book,
gently placing Hermione's scarf down on the table beside him.

And that's when it began.

Harry's eyes were on the first page of the dusty volume, scanning the index when he saw a
flash of red light beside his left hand.

Slowly he lifted his gaze, moving it over towards the glow and saw it coming from the scarf.

He was too startled to speak. Four or five brilliant red strands of light began running in
straight lines and twisting together, forming themselves into what appeared to be a small note,
secured with a thread of the red light, fastened to one corner of the scarf.

When the paper was through materializing, the only light that remained was that of his wand and
the thready beam that attached the note.

Not caring what dark magic might have produced it, Harry tore the note off of the scarf and
unfolded it, his eyes greedily eating the words, which again were written in a strange electrical
red.

"Harry,

As you are reading this, it is safe to assume that you are finally alone with the scarf, or else
the note would not have materialized. It is for you, and you alone.

I am a servant of the dark lord Voldemort. As per his instructions, I have taken what he has
determined to be most precious to you.

If you want her back alive, you must meet him alone past the Forbidden Forest in the dark forest
of Kavan.

If anyone else accompanies you, he will kill her immediately, for as you know, her life is of no
consequence. It is up to you to decide, but do not delay too long. My lord is not a patient
one.

Do not try to find me. Concern yourself only with Voldemort."

The letter was unsigned. Harry reeled in his chair and squashed the letter in his fist.

In his mind, he saw flashes of what must've taken place. Hermione struggled. She tried to
hide in Hagrid's cabin but was found. A wand fight ensued...Hermione lost...The flame drock
ashes...the jars had been labeled. They were used for either the man or Hermione. Hermione
lost...She lost...Were they for her?

Harry gripped the sides of the small table fighting back wave after wave of panic. So it
*was* Voldemort...What could be happening to 'Mione right now...

"Ron..." Harry could only croak out a whisper. His knuckles began to turn white from
the death-like grip he had on the table.

"Ron..." Louder...no answer.

"Ron!" This time he yelled, not caring if Filch or anyone else were near at the
moment.

He heard a scuffle and turned to see Ron rounding the corner quickly, an armload of books in his
hands and a startled glare on his face.

"Harry, are you daft!?" he hissed, coming closer, "Be quiet or we've both had
it..."

But as he approached Harry and saw the look of horror on his face, he quickly dropped the books
on a nearby table and rushed to his side.

"What is it..."

Harry sat slumped in his seat and mutely handed Ron the crumpled note without bothering to look
at him.

Ron smoothed it out and began to scan it. The more he read, the more ashen he became, until
finally he took a seat beside Harry and stared into the darkness of the library.

"Where the bloody hell is Kavan..."

Harry's jaw had tightened so much that he felt like his teeth would break.

"It's past the Forbidden Forest apparently... but exactly where...we've got to find
out." His voice had moved beyond panic and had now settled into the grim determination that
Ron knew so well.

"Dumbledore would know," began Ron, "He knows all about Hogwarts' surrounding
areas... It's a sure bet 'Mione's not too far away..."

"We can't go to Dumbledore," said Harry flatly. For the first time he let his gaze
meet Ron's face.

Ron was taken aback. Harry always consulted Dumbledore if he could... Especially about anything
like this.

"You can't be serious...Harry, we'll need help."

"You read the note. If we tell Dumbledore he won't let me go... at least not alone. And
if I don't go alone, Hermione's dead." The last part came out in a strangled choke,
but Harry struggled not to lose his resolve.

"Well then how..."

"I think it's time to get out the old *Hogwarts: A History* book again," said
Harry evenly.

*************************************

The way back to the common room was precarious at best, as Harry and Ron kept running into one
Hogwarts teacher or another, moving at a fast pace to secure whatever part of the school Dumbledore
had assigned them to. Luckily, the invisibility cloak did its job, though they did have one
particularly close call with Filch and his cat, Mrs. Norris, who seemed to be able to see through
the cloak. She turned her pink, lantern like eyes up to them. They froze as she tottered up to
them, looking up and meowing insistently.

"Is someone there, my sweet?" Filch swiped long greasy hair from his forehead and came
to stand directly in front of Ron and Harry.

They both held their breath as he squinted suspiciously in front of him but saw only wall.

He swiped one hand in front of him, and came so close to hitting Ron that it ruffled his hair.
Harry saw him freeze with a trapped look on his face.

Filch, disappointed at Mrs. Norris, finally picked her up and moved back down the hallway. The
cat's neon pink eyes never left Harry and Ron as they watched her bob out of sight in the
caretaker's arms.

"Too close..." breathed Ron raggedly.

But Harry didn't feel relaxed or in the clear. If Dumbledore came around a corner and they
were there, he knew the Headmaster would see right through the cloak. And as they had seen at least
three teachers roaming the halls since they left the library, he knew that the meeting was
over.

"Hurry..." was the only word that Harry hissed out to Ron.

They made their way much more quickly to the common room.

When they finally reached it and stepped inside, they noticed that most of Gryffindor had gone
up to their rooms, probably to continue their conversations there as it was still relatively early
in the evening.

Harry grabbed the crystal ball, parchment and quill from Ron and plopped down on the couch,
immediately opening the incantation book they had taken and scanning it intensely. He could see why
the book had been in the restricted section; most of the spells in the index had dangerous
consequences if performed wrong.

"I'll go get the Hogwarts book," said Ron, making his way up to the boy's
dorms, two steps at a time.

After much searching he finally found it and bounded back down the stairs. Harry was sitting on
the edge of the couch, staring intently at one passage of the incantation book, obviously deep in
thought.

Ron opened the Hogwarts history book and began scanning as well.

After an hour of intense and frustrating searching by both, and some unwanted interruption from
well meaning Gryffindor's, Ron finally stabbed the final chapter of his book.

"Harry! I found it...Kavan..."

Quickly Harry dropped his book and scooted closer to Ron. Taking one half of the Hogwarts book
in his hand, he read the passage out loud.

"...the darkest and most menacing area surrounding the school was long thought to be the
Forbidden Forest, which stretched for some fifty miles directly outside of school grounds. But in
1959, the forest was broken into two sections. The first thirty miles being still known as the
Forbidden Forest, with the last twenty much darker and dangerous miles now referred to as
Kavan.

That fateful year on a dare, Stuart Kavan, a student from Hogwarts, entered the forest
determined to go as far into it as he dared, spend the night, and re-emerge the next day.

Two days later, when the students from his house finally revealed the reason for his absence, a
search party formed comprised of only the most powerful witches and wizards at the school.

A day later, they re-emerged, carrying only the boy's broom.

From then on, and only beknownst to the faculty of Hogwarts, the thirty miles in where the broom
was discovered and beyond that were to be renamed 'Kavan', in memory of the student.

To this day, no trace of him has ever been recovered..."

"Wicked..." breathed out Ron as he and Harry tossed the book down, "Now I know
why the final chapter of *Hogwarts: A History* was torn from all the copies in the library...
Lucky for us Hermione got this at Flourish and Blotts before we got here."

"Lucky..." hissed out Harry, deep in thought.

Neither said anything else until Ron glanced over to Harry and saw the grim look plastered on
his face, and the way his arms were crossed tightly across his chest.

Ron started slowly. "Well, now we know where Kavan is... but twenty miles is an awful lot
of ground to cover..."

"You mean *I* know where Kavan is," said Harry quietly.

Ron breathed in angrily and sat up straighter, his fingers gripping the arm of the couch.
Somehow he had known it would come to this...

"Harry, don't you dare think you're gonna fly in there playing the bleeding hero
without me...I care just as much about Hermione as you do."

Harry sighed deeply and rose determinedly to his feet beginning to pace.

"It's not about that Ron; it's not your fight...Besides I have to go
alone..."

"I don't care what the bloody hell that note says!" Ron shouted, standing up and
striding over to Harry. "She's my friend too..."

"She's more than a friend to me!" Harry shouted back, "Besides that, if
anyone else comes he'll *KILL* her!"

"I'll hide until you need me!" replied Ron furiously, "You'll need help;
you can't do this on your own!"

A few of the students upstairs had crept down to see what the shouting was about, along with
those who were still downstairs, and stared dumbly at them. Ron and Harry *never* fought this
hard.

"Ron, we can't take the risk!" Harry bellowed angrily, inches from Ron's face,
"You know Voldemort senses other people when they're around..."

A collective gasp went around the room at the mention of Voldemort's name. Most still feared
it, and still referred to him as He-who-must-not-be-named.

"Then we'll find some way to sneak me out there with you!" Ron replied, "Some
charm or something that hides my presence! I want to help you find her; we've always been a
team..."

"I CAN'T RISK IT!" Harry sounded out the words and balled up his fists
reflexively.

"Then how're you gonna find her!?"

Harry took a step back and tried to calm himself, and Ron. "I'm gonna find his servant
first...I think he's still here...I can feel it..." He pressed a hand to his forehead and
fingered his scar absently.

Ron set his jaw again, even more angrily than before, vaguely aware of the audience gaping at
them from the stairs.

"There's no time to go searching for him too!" he began hotly.

"Yes there is...I found an incantation that might help. It won't take that long, and
when I find him he can lead me directly to her..."

"Harry let's just go and get Voldemort!" (The audience flinched again) "
He's the one that has her now! Forget about the servant..."

"The *BLOODY HELL* I will!" Harry roared, whirling around. The fury blazing in
his eyes made Ron furious as well.

"*WHY NOT*!?"

"Because *I LOVE HER!...*and *no one* gets away with this..."

At this revelation, another collective gasp, louder this time, went around the room, causing
Harry to blink rapidly. He finally noticed the crowd of faces staring at he and Ron. As he focused
back on his friend, he saw the naked shock that rested on his ruddy features. Ron's jaw was
working but he seemed not to be able to form any words.

Harry blinked again and shook his head, stumbling back a bit.

Finally, his fell back on the arm of one of the overstuffed chairs.

"Wh...what did I just say...What did I say...."

Ron stumbled back too, finding no words to speak to Harry at the moment.

*I said I loved her*, thought Harry. A blur of emotions began to swirl around in his head
the moment he had uttered those words;...confusion, affection, fear, rage, but mostly a deep,
glaring desperation.

No. Whoever had helped Voldemort by taking Hermione would answer to Harry too. And *damn*
anyone who got in his way.

But Ron was not the enemy. He just cared for Hermione too, and wanted to help as he always had.
He was part of the team, one part of a triangle that was now missing a very strong link.

Harry knew what it felt like to sit by and feel helpless to do anything, but he could do nothing
about that even if he wanted to.

To take anyone else along was to risk Hermione's life, so Harry determined to himself to go
alone... no matter what the cost.

He looked over to Ron to see that he had sat himself down rather heavily on the couch and was
peering into the fire, a troubled expression playing on his face.

Harry joined him.

"Ron, I'm sorry...I have to go alone."

After a minute of intense silence, Ron finally nodded. Slowly he turned a deliberately steady
look on Harry.

"You... You love her?"

Harry took a deep breath and roughly clawed his fingers through his hair, breathing out
raggedly.

"Y...Yeah...I do, I...I guess I didn't really realize it until now."

Ron hesitated, and nodded, not taking his eyes from his best friend. He seemed to be searching
Harry's face for the whole truth, but what he saw gave him no room for doubt. He swallowed
roughly, unsure of his feelings about the situation. He knew he didn't feel that way about
Hermione, of that he was certain. But the three of them were so tight that he feared what this new
revelation might bring.

Quickly, he shoved the thought from his mind. No time for that now... They had to find, No... he
swallowed... *Harry* had to find Hermione.

"Ok then. Show me the incantation you found."

Harry closed his eyes and nodded gratefully at Ron, glad to be finished fighting. He grabbed the
book and turned to the middle, stabbing a page.

"It's right here. It's called the 'Unknown Charm'."

Ron looked puzzled as he scanned the page. "It's in Latin!"

"All spells are Ron," said Harry patiently. "Read it."

Ron frowned over the obvious fact, to him, that some things are made much more difficult than
they had to be and read the spell out loud.

"*Fluo fervens aqua eluvies crystallus orbis and inviso; nomen adeo fiendo aperio cunctus
aenigma.* Oh, here's what it means," he said running his finger down the paragraph,
"Pour hot water over the crystal ball and see the name that will clear all mystery."

Harry grabbed the book from Ron and continued scanning the passage. "So it says all I have
to do is hold the crystal ball under hot water, chant the spell, and ask it who Voldemort's man
is."

Ron nodded slowly, obviously in thought and took time to write the spell on a piece of
parchment.

"Ok then. Just go take a shower and take the crystal and your wand; and take this." He
handed Harry the incantation.

Harry grabbed the paper and frowned at his friend. "I don't have time for a shower!
I'm just gonna hold it under the tap..."

Ron raised his eyebrows at Harry, reminiscent of Hermione. "Kill two birds with one stone,
Harry. You haven't showered since the match... It won't take any longer and you'll need
to be refreshed to face Voldemort."

Harry opened his mouth to retort but Ron cut him off. "Just go...and if you don't come
back I'll know you've already gone after him. Just be careful...he'll be dangerous
too."

Harry could see how much it was costing Ron to stay back at the school and wait. He nodded
gratefully to his friend and stood quickly, grabbing the crystal.

"Talk to everyone... Tell them not to mention this to any of the teachers or anyone else.
They'll understand..." Harry took another look at Ron's suffering face. "I
promise...I won't come back until I have her."

Ron closed his eyes briefly and swallowed, nodding heavily. "I know...Go."

Harry flew up the steps to his bed and grabbed a fresh change of clothes, and then quickly raced
back down again. He grabbed his wand from Ron's outstretched hand and raced out of the portrait
door, letting it slam shut behind him.

Ron sat in front of the fire, staring at the door. The only emotion running through him was
pure, blinding fear.

*************************************************



9. Chapter 9
------------

Chapter 9

Harry ran as quickly as he could to the nearest boy's bathroom, not caring at that point
whether Filch was around or not.`

He kept his wand handy in case anyone was foolish enough to try to stop him, having very few
qualms about using it if necessary.

He had become quite a powerful young wizard in his six years of study, and besides that; facing
danger as many times as Harry had did a lot toward making him stronger and more confident. He hoped
no one got in his way.

He reached the bathrooms without incident and shoved his way inside, stripping as fast as
possible and stepping into the shower.

He turned the knobs quickly, making the water as hot as he dared and soaped and rinsed his hair
and body quickly.

When satisfied with himself, Harry reached over to the crystal ball in the corner of the shower
and slid it over to the middle, letting the hot water cascade over it.

Grabbing the piece of parchment that he had lain on a dry, extending shelf in the corner, he
held it closely to his face, a bit angry with himself for having glasses to have to take off during
a shower.

He picked up his wand extending it towards the crystal and began to read the words slowly,
enunciating each one.

"*Fluo fervens aqua eluvies crystallus orbis inviso, nomen adeo fiendo aperio cunctus
aenigma*."

A streak of blue light shot from Harry's wand to the crystal globe and for a moment, the
steam, water and globe were illuminated in an iridescent sapphire that started him a bit. Slowly
the glow fell from the steam and water like rain and washed over the crystal; the ball seeming to
absorb all of it.

Harry felt his stomach tie into knots. If this wasn't the correct spell then he had just
wasted more of the precious time that Hermione had left.

Feeling his hand shake as he gripped his wand tighter, he continued pointing it towards the
globe.

"Tell me the name of the person who took Hermione Granger."

Harry's eyes widened as the blue energy in the crystal immediately began to roil and swirl
like dark thunder clouds. The globe began to bubble as well and to Harry's amazement, it seemed
as if the crystal itself was beginning to boil, as if the heat from the massive amount of energy
was melting it. The globe continued to boil and bubble with sapphire and then began to expand.

Suddenly it exploded, shattering shards of crystal all around the shower stall and
simultaneously releasing the pent up energy in an upward blast of light.

Vaguely aware of the small nicks he had just acquired, Harry continued to watch the blue, as
once again it began to fall back into the stall like drops of rain. But this time, the steam in the
stall remained blue, and began to swirl, making almost psychedelic patterns.

Quickly, Harry realized that the steam was beginning to form letters and he watched anxiously,
while letting the water wash the crystal shards from his body.

Finally the steamy letters came together to form two words: Dark Servant.

Harry gritted his teeth in frustration. "I know that, but who is he!?" he shouted.

As if on impulse he raised a hand and waved it in front of the steam, but instead of
dissipating, the letters began to rearrange themselves.

The name that stared back at him made Harry feel limp with shock.

He supposed he would've been surprised with whatever name he saw, but he had actually met
this person.

Immediately, one phrase that the man had repeated to him at least two or three different times
played back in his head.

*Good luck, Potter...We're anxious to see what kind of seeker you are*.

"Not the snitch," thought a shocked Harry out loud, "*Hermione*...

*He meant* *Hermione*..."

Like a wild man Harry crashed open the shower stall door. Not bothering to dry himself, he threw
on his clothes and grabbed his wand, racing out of the bathroom.

Filch caught him running, right as he stepped out and stepped in front of him, causing Harry to
almost run into him.

"Hold it Potter! No one's allowed out to roam now! You know the rules..."

Not missing a beat, Harry had his wand out in one swift motion, extending it towards the
caretakers gaping face, a mixture of anguish mixed with fury playing on his handsome features.

"*MOVE or I’ll move you myself*."

The boy looked out of control, and to Filch, utterly dangerous. Gaping at him, he stepped aside
and watched the young man take off down the hallway.

Furious and shaken by the display, Filch resolved to himself to find Dumbledore and let him know
about Potter's threat if it was the last thing he did.

*****************************************************

Harry raced down endless corridors, past his common room, Slytherins, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs,
and even past the Astronomy tower, into an area of Hogwarts he had rarely visited. This part of the
school was usually reserved for visitors, to keep them from being too annoyed or distracted with
the students, and vice versa.

His heart pounded loudly in his ears, and he continued running non-stop until he found what he
was looking for; the guest quarters.

Luckily for him, whenever a guest stayed in a room his name was put on the door, for him as much
as for the house elves and servants who came to clean and provide room service, if needed.

Harry found the name he desired and heard loud sounds coming from inside the room. Thumping,
scraping, dragging; like someone was moving and rearranging boxes and trunks.

Not bothering to knock Harry tried the knob, and feeling it to be locked, he immediately
extended his wand.

"*Alohamora!*"

The door clicked and he slammed it open, his wand out and ready. Immediately his scar began to
burn. Not quite the white hot burning sensation that he had had yesterday morning, but a dull
throbbing. Here was his answer... If he'd only been a little more concerned...

At the unexpected intrusion, the man inside the room dropped the trunk he had been moving and
fell back a few steps, a look of surprise mixed with fear on his face. He saw Potter rub at his
scar and winced. His cloaking spell was wearing off again... but he had convinced himself that it
didn't matter now. After all, he had planned to be gone as soon as Dumbledore's meeting let
out... If he'd only been a little quicker...

Harry scanned the room. The man's belongings had been packed away in a hurry. The one trunk
that was still open contained robes and Dark Arts books, thrown haphazardly inside.

The room hadn't been put back properly, as if the guest had been planning to leave in quite
a hurry. Harry's eyes fell on the man's wand sitting on the edge of the desk. He gritted
his teeth furiously, his eyes blazing as he took in the form of the person who had taken Hermione.
When he spoke his voice was low, and very dangerous.

"Going somewhere?..." Harry gestured towards the man's belongings pushed near the
fireplace.

The look of raw intensity on the young man's face rooted the guest to the spot. He stood
exactly as he had after he had dropped the trunk, not daring to move a muscle.

"H...Harry. Something I can do for you?"

Harry kicked the door shut, never taking his eyes from the man. He began to approach him slowly,
keeping his voice low and even.

"You can take me to Hermione."

The servant's eyes widened. He'd been found out...

Panicking, he tried to dart around Harry, who had positioned himself in-between the servant and
his wand, and made a wild grab for it.

Just as quickly, Harry threw himself at him, knocking him into the wall. As the man whipped
around, Harry grabbed him by the throat and smashed his head back against the wall, his wand inches
from the man's face.

"Don't even think about it!" he breathed wolfishly.

The man dared not to move, and took slow, wheezing puffs of air, his eyes darting from
Harry's wand to Harry.

Harry cocked his head a bit to one side, piercing the man with a glare.

"You're gonna take me to Voldemort."

At the mention of that name, the servant's eyes widened and he began to tremble.

"You should already know where he is! It was in the note!"

"There's twenty miles of land to cover," Harry growled, "You can take me
straight to him."

"I...I'm *not* going back there," the servant strained out. "I can't
go back to him...I was going to escape...He has her now! I don't!"

Harry tightened his grip, causing the man to wheeze even more. "You *ARE* going back
there... You're the reason for all of this!"

As Harry let the man go, but continued to hold his wand on him, the servant sagged against the
wall, clutching his throat and sucking in ragged breaths. He looked at Harry with something
resembling awe.

"Maybe the sorting hat *was* right... Maybe you *should've* been in
Slytherin..." he whispered tightly.

Harry blinked hard. So the guy had been doing some research on him. He shook his head at the
destructive thought that the servant had just revisited on his mind and shoved it quickly away.

Shifting his eyes towards the desk for a moment, he caught sight of the missing jar of flame
drock ashes from Hagrid's hut. The jar was half empty.

Shaking with the thought that he might not like the answer to his next question, he plowed
ahead.

"Who were those for? *Did you hurt Hermione*!? Because if you did I *swear*
*to*..."

"They were for me!" the servant answered quickly, "Granger and I fought when she
found me out...She ran to the old hut near the forest. W...we had a fight. She wounded me before I
could subdue her...I found the ashes there."

Harry almost smiled in satisfaction. At least she had wounded the bloody git...

"P...Potter..." the man began slowly, "How did you find out it was me?"

Harry held his wand a little to the man's right and, pointing it to the wall behind him, he
spoke clearly.

"*Primus Compositio Rettuli*."

The bolt of energy that erupted from Harry's wand blasted the wall behind the servant. He
looked behind him to see the words '*dark servant*' emblazoned in shimmering blue.

Slowly the letters began to rearrange themselves. The man was surprised at Harry's
innovation as the name that Voldemort had cleverly given him in place of his own took shape on the
wall.

*Kard Starven.*

No one could say that the dark lord didn't have his own twisted sense of humor, especially
since the name sounded so much like his real one...

He turned back around to plead with Potter once more not to take him along, but quickly bit his
tongue when he saw the look of utter hatred the young man shot his way.

Starven tried to affect a look of "I'm a victim too," but Harry would have none of
it.

"Where's your broom..."

"I don't have one...I...traveled by floo powder..." It was partially the truth.
His broom was still at the cabin where the dark lord had forced him to leave it.

"Then we'll grab one on the way," said Harry evenly, "Let's go."

Harry had always had ill luck with using the floo system. It might not be to his advantage to
come tumbling out of whatever fireplace Voldemort had near him because it usually took a few
minutes to recover... a few minutes that he wouldn't have. Besides that fact, he would have no
control over Starven during the process. They would have to go one at the time, and Starven could
choose to let himself out at any fireplace along the way.

It would be wiser to use brooms.

Instead of moving, Starven backed himself against the wall, shaking his head.

All Harry could think of at that moment was what a coward he had encountered.

The man joined Voldemort right under the Ministry's nose, vowed to lure Harry to Voldemort
by taking someone close to him, and then didn't have the guts to follow through...

"Potter...Maybe you didn't hear me!" Starven began, "I'm not going back!
By now Voldemort knows I don't plan to return... He might kill me!"

The statement hit Harry like a load of bricks. Of course... It was all there for him to see. He
shook with anger and took a furious step towards Starven, his wand arm extended straight at
him.

"You were *supposed* to lead me back, weren't you!?"

"N...No I...I can't now!"

"I didn't even have to go *through* all of this!" Harry hissed through his
teeth, his eyes blazing like fire, "I could've already been *there* by now!"

"I'm *not* going back Potter... Not now... I can't go back... He'll
*kill* *me!*"

"*I'll kill you*!" Harry shouted back at him, surprised at his own words,
"You may have a chance with Voldemort but not with me... Now *MOVE*!"

Harry knew he would never kill Starven, but he certainly would hurt him if needed. He felt
desperate, and more scared than he had ever been in his entire life. All the time that had already
been wasted... and Starven was supposed to have led him back several hours ago... What if...what if
Hermione was already... NO. He pushed the destructive thought from his mind. He *would not*
think that way... He couldn't.

Starven looked at the young man in front of him only once more before moving. He looked deadly
serious.

He began to ease past Harry, opening his door and walking out. Harry was barely a step behind,
his wand pressed into Starven's back as they made their way down the winding hallways and
towards the great double doors that led outside.

Surprisingly, they met no one along the way. As Harry and Starven pushed open the large double
doors, Harry noticed that the temperature had dropped to just above freezing, and the sky was full
of ominous clouds, threatening rain.

With a quick glance to make sure no one was around, he prodded Starven ahead with his wand
towards the Quidditch field.

"Why are we headed this way?" asked Starven.

"We need brooms," replied Harry flatly, "There's plenty of extras in the
locker room."

Starven nodded and let Harry push him in the right direction. When they reached the Quidditch
lockers, Harry kept a close eye on Starven as he charmed the lockers open and pulled out two
brooms.

One was his Firebolt 2004 that he had hastily left at Hagrid's earlier that night, and the
other, a standard Shooting Star, which he thrust Starven's way.

Starven glanced at the broom and then at Harry with pleading eyes.

"Please Potter... I can tell you exactly where she is... Don't make me go with you.
Voldemort has her now. I'm not even a part of this anymore!"

Harry set his jaw and scanned Starven's form with a look on his face that resembled someone
who had just stepped in something putrid.

"You think that's all this is about!?" Harry shouted angrily, "You sealed
your fate the day you joined Voldemort and you took Hermione. I'm not letting you go! Now mount
up!"

Starven reluctantly mounted his broom and kicked off from the ground, watching as Harry stayed
exactly one step behind him.

The wind whipped violently at their hair and robes as the two hovered near the Quidditch field,
Harry's wand still pointed threateningly towards Starven.

"Don't even think of trying to outfly me," Harry yelled in warning over the
howling wind, "I'll catch you. You know it."

Starven stared at the young man with his wand and took in the seriously dangerous look playing
over his features. In that moment of clarity, he knew that all of the prophesies were true.

"You're not just going to destroy Voldemort, are you Harry," said Starven, his
eyes tracing Harry's famous scar, half hidden by the whipping of his hair, "You're
going to take out all of his followers as well, aren't you?"

Harry blinked, taken aback by Starven's bluntness. He didn't know what fate had in store
for him... All he knew was that if he had the means to protect the ones he loved then he would use
it. And if that meant destroying every last force of evil on the planet, if he was someday able,
then so be it.

He gritted his teeth, angered at letting Starven catch him off guard.

"Just fly."

Starven nodded, and giving Harry one more glance of awe mixed with fear, he dipped his broom
downward and he and Harry flew down and into the darkness of the Forbidden Forest.

*********************************************



10. Chapter 10
--------------

Chapter 10

Hermione opened painful eyes to discover that she was still in a heap in the corner of the
room.

Voldemort was still seated in his padded chair, warming himself by the glow of the eerie red
fire, his python Nagini curled up nearby.

As she lay there, quietly surveying her surroundings again for a chance at escape, her mind
began to play out scenario after scenario of how this would end.

She still hoped that Harry would stay away and let Dumbledore know of the situation, letting him
take care of it, but she also knew that he wouldn't. The thought of him facing Voldemort made
her shudder.

Since Harry was probably traveling by broom, she imagined that it might be some time before he
arrived. If she could escape before he got there, she could save him from having to fight the dark
lord. But how?

Again her eyes scanned the room for her wand. Surely Voldemort had hidden it away or destroyed
it by now; unless he was cocky enough to not believe her capable of facing him.

She might well not be capable, thought Hermione to herself. She knew that she could never come
away from the Avada Kedavra curse with only a scar like Harry had. But she had to try, if only to
save Harry. Just the thought of possibly watching him suffer, or even die was almost too much for
her to handle.

She turned her head slightly to glance at Voldemort and the python again, and pulling out of her
silent reverie, she began to catch snatches of their conversation.

"Patience Nagini," Voldemort hissed to the snake in English, "Potter will be here
soon enough... and then I'll allow you to have the girl...I'll even kill her for you
first."

The snake must have replied with something like "Why can't I have her now,"
because Voldemort continued with "You know why. I want Potter to see her die." He
chuckled cruelly and glanced Hermione's way. She shut her eyes quickly.

"When Potter sees Granger die right before his eyes, all the fire, all of the resistance
will turn to complete despair... And that's when I'll have him."

Hermione could imagine Voldemort's grim face with a smile on it. She shuddered to think of
herself as Nagini's dinner, but even worse to think of Harry, so brave and strong, giving up in
a cry of hopelessness. She couldn't allow that. She wouldn't if it was the last thing she
ever did, and it might very well be. She squeezed her eyes shut over the terror that had begun to
grip her and willed it away.

She had to be strong for Harry... and she had to escape...Now.

Deciding to wait no longer, Hermione settled on a solution. She would summon her wand and fight
Voldemort herself. Harry would not be put in danger because of her.

She had never used the summoning charm herself, she'd only helped Harry learn it. And it
usually worked better when you knew where the desired object was so that you could envision it. But
she had to try. With her wand, at least she had a chance.

As quietly and slowly as possible, Hermione extended her hand, hoping upon hope that wherever
her wand was, it wouldn't have to float past Voldemort's face to get to her.

"*Accio Scipio*."

She barely whispered the spell and stretching out with her hand and her mind, she focused on
willing the wand to come.

As Voldemort reclined by the fire, listening and feeling for anyone approaching, he didn't
notice as Hermione's wand began to slip out of his right pocket.

She could see the tip emerging and focused all of her energy on sliding it out smoothly.
Secretly, she cursed the dark lord for placing it in the right side of his cloak. She was on the
left side of the room, which meant that the wand would have to pass around him without him
noticing.

The wand was out of the pocket and floating freely now at about his waist level. All Voldemort
had to do was glance down and Hermione was done for.

She watched the wand advance towards her slowly, rocking a little mid-flight as it came and
squeezed her eyes shut, focusing solely on keeping it steady.

Suddenly, Nagini opened one eye, and then both and hissed wildly, simultaneously striking out
towards the wand.

Hermione noticed Voldemort jump, startled, and look down.

Now, Hermione...NOW!

Voldemort's glowing red eyes widened as Nagini recoiled to strike again and he saw the
floating wand, moving faster now towards Hermione's outstretched hand.

She stood on shaky legs, knowing that she'd been discovered and stretched out with both
hands, focusing her remaining strength and energy in only one direction.

Voldemort hissed angrily, and with a violent leap, grabbed for the wand but it sped past him and
landed in Hermione's hands.

She broke contact with the spell and immediately aimed.

"*Propulso Pettitio!*"

The spell hurled Voldemort backwards and he crashed into the wall behind him.

Hermione leapt from the corner, barely escaping the snap of Nagini's large jaws and sped
towards the door as fast as her injured knee would allow, grabbing the broom leaning beside the
bookshelf.

She flung the door open right as Voldemort righted himself and with a flick of his wrist, sent
his own wand sliding from his sleeve into his hand.

The blast that ensued blew apart the door jamb beside her as Hermione rushed outside, mounting
the broom.

It was pitch black out and cold. A lashing freezing rain had just begun, and it soaked
Hermione's hair and robe as she kicked off from the ground. Her mind was screaming at her
wildly to take off, but it wasn't as quick for her as it was for Harry and Ron, as she never
liked broom flight much. At this moment, she cursed herself for it.

As soon as she began to float up and soar away, she heard Voldemort's furious voice,
screeching into the night.

"*Epara Ivanesca*!"

The red bolt of energy blew the broom under her to pieces and scorched her thigh. She fell about
six feet to the ground and rolled to a stop. Even then she picked herself up and began to run as
quickly as her bruised body would allow, aware that Voldemort was catching up. Her heart was racing
violently, and she felt terrified tears streaming down her face.

Spurred on by the sudden burst of angry energy, Voldemort glided very quickly after her and
finally grabbed her arm, yanking her backwards.

He was inches from her face. "You will *NOT* ruin this for me!" He screeched in
an unearthly tone.

She struggled in his painful grasp as he yanked and tugged her back to the cabin and threw her
inside, shoving her back toward the little corner that had become her cell.

She had failed. She had failed Harry...

"Nagini! Stand guard!" screamed Voldemort.

The snake complied by slithering over near Hermione and uncoiling his long body around her like
a line that she dare not cross.

Hermione recoiled from the snake. She was in pain, wet, and freezing, but she would NOT give in.
She glared up at Voldemort defiantly, swiping the wet hair from her face.

"You will NOT WIN!"

Voldemort whirled on her and extended his arm.

"*Crucio!*"

The dark curse engulfed her in a torrent of pain unlike anything she'd ever experienced in
her life. She screamed uncontrollably, her muscles spasming as wave after wave of agony swept her
entire body.

Try as she might, she couldn't keep herself from letting unconsciousness engulf her once
again.

Voldemort ground his teeth and his eyes narrowed. "Come on Potter..."

**********************************************

Harry swiped the freezing rain away from his face, knowing that it would continue to lash him.
He silently thanked Hermione for the *Impervius* charm she had shown him during third year
that kept rain from hitting his glasses. It was the only thing that was helping him to see now.

The rain was falling harder now, and since he and Starven were flying at top speed through the
forest, each drop stung like a piece of sharp glass.

They had been flying for at least half an hour with no end yet in sight. Harry was just
beginning to wonder rather angrily if Starven was deliberately leading them the wrong way when he
heard a terrifying scream that cut through him like a blade.

Even Starven slowed, a look of horror playing over his features.

Harry's eyes widened and he felt his stomach churn wildly. When he spoke it was more of a
breath.

"Hermione..."

He flew up beside Starven and grabbed his arm.

"How close are we!?"

Starven glanced from Potter's stricken face to the woods in front of them.

"If you squint, you can just make out the cabin there." He pointed in the direction of
a very faint glowing red light in the near distance.

"Go...MOVE," demanded Harry.

Both continued at top speed again. Harry willed himself not to blink and stared at the
approaching red light as if he could get himself there quicker by sheer force of will.

As the cabin came into focus, Harry brought himself up short in front of the door and threw
himself off of his broom, out of breath from sheer terror.

Breathing open mouthed, he motioned with his wand for Starven to do the same.

He grabbed the servant's arm and thrust him in front, pointing his wand over the shorter
man's shoulder.

"*Aronium Exeme!*"

The door exploded in a blast of blue light.

Harry shoved Starven in ahead of him and entered the cabin, his eyes frantically searching the
large room.

No Voldemort.

But his gaze did fall on a heap in the far right corner, surrounded by a dark red robe bearing
the Gryffindor crest. Voldemort's python, Nagini, was curled protectively around its prey.

An anguished sob escaped Harry's lips as he rushed forward and pointed his wand to the right
of the python.

"*Serpent Sortia!*"

Another python emerged from Harry's wand and slid to the floor with a small thud.

Nagini's small eyes locked with it, and with an angry hiss, he slithered after it to do
battle of his own.

As soon as Nagini had moved, Harry threw himself to his knees beside Hermione and grabbed her by
the waist, pulling her into his lap.

Gently he cradled her in his arms and wiped the wet hair from her face.

With a gasp, he noticed the large cut on her forehead, now crusted over with dried blood and
cuts and bruises of various sizes on her arms and legs. Her school clothes were covered in what
appeared to be ash from a blast.

Harry cradled her closer. Silent tears slipped down his face as he touched his face to her own
and pressed one of her hands to his lips. He rocked her back and forth gently.

"'Mione...please wake up...Please don't go..."

An overwhelming panic gripped Harry from all sides. It tightened his chest muscles and he had to
fight to continue breathing.

He kissed Hermione softly and pressed a shaking hand to her cheek. She felt so cold.

"Please wake up love...Please..."

"Too late for that Harry."

A dark form glided into the room, wand out. He cackled in a high-pitched voice that made the
hairs on Harry's neck stand.

He whipped out his wand, one arm still curled protectively around Hermione.

Voldemort glided closer. Harry lowered his head, fixing him with a glare that would have been
extremely dangerous, except that his voice betrayed too much emotion.

"What did you do..."

Voldemort grinned. Potter was already coming apart... exactly how he'd planned. Everyone had
their weaknesses.

"She's already dead," laughed Voldemort cruelly, "If you'd only come a
little sooner..."

Harry fought back a scream that came out as a strangled sob far in the back of his throat and
clutched Hermione tightly to him, rocking.

Starven, watching the encounter from the relative safety of a dark corner also bit back a cry of
horror. Not because he was sad for Granger, but because he feared that he was next. He really
wasn't cut out for this, he thought to himself. He wanted to run but terror had robbed him of
any movement. Besides, it would be easy for Voldemort to catch him. His only hope was if Voldemort
would forgive him... or if he somehow didn't know of Starven's intention to run.

Harry looked despairingly back down at the limp form cradled in his lap and saw a faint glow
coming from the front pocket of Hermione's robe.

Quickly he reached in and pulled out the necklace he had given her. The chain was broken and
scorched, but the red heart glowed a faint ruby. He shuddered a relieved sigh.

A small smile playing on his lips, Harry carefully laid Hermione back down and placed the
necklace back inside her pocket.

Slowly he stood and extended his wand toward Voldemort, a masterful smile playing on his
features.

"If the pendant's still glowing, she's still alive. It wouldn't work if she
wasn't."

Voldemort's smile faltered. Strike one. *Damn* Potter and that necklace. But there was
still the duel.

Both Harry and Voldemort assumed their fighting stances. Voldemort nodded to his enemy, keeping
his eyes fastened to him.

"All right then Potter...it begins. But first things first..."

Voldemort whipped around and aimed his wand at Starven.

"*Avada Kedavra!*"

Immediately Starven dropped, his eyes open. He was killed so quickly that the look of shock died
with him.

The dark lord showed absolutely no remorse and turned back to Potter, resuming his duel stance
once more.

Harry's insides twisted sickly and he faltered in surprise, but kept his guard up. He
glanced wide-eyed from Starven's body to Voldemort and shook his head to clear it, making
certain to keep his gaze directed on Voldemort. It wouldn't do to get distracted.

Voldemort gave him a curiously odd look and grinned. "You still haven't figured it out
yet, have you?"

Harry snorted derisively. "What's there to figure out? You think you're *that*
complex?"

"Not me, *Potter*..." snarled Voldemort, "Hasn't it crossed your mind to
wonder who Starven *really* is?"

Harry and Voldemort still circled each other, both keenly aware of the other's movements.
Harry frowned. What was Voldemort trying to do? He wasn't stupid. He wouldn't get
distracted...

"Why should I care..."

Voldemort shook his head at Potter almost as if scolding a child. "Ah Potter...because of
the power I wield. To think...that all this time, he stayed loyal to me...only to lose his life in
the end. Pity. But then again, he was weak...too afraid of his own mortality...I have no need of
weaklings. But *you’re* not a weakling, are you Harry? All of this can be avoided if you’d
simply join me. Together, we’d have all the power we’ve ever dreamed of..."

Harry shook his head at Voldemort and almost flippantly growled out a reply. "*SAVE
IT*! You killed my parents and you hurt Hermione! I wouldn’t join you if my *life depended on
it*! Whoever Starven was, I don’t feel *anything* for him...sorrow *or* curiosity.
"

"You should," stated Voldemort, angry at Harry’s flippant response, "If I can get
a strong, level-headed, well-taught Slytherin like Stuart to join me, imagine the
possibilities..."

At this statement, Harry almost faltered and his mind began to work overtime. *Stuart*? Who
had Starven *been*? A Slytherin...from Hogwarts...

Wait...it *couldn’t* be...

"Kard Starven," Harry whispered to himself, "K.S...The initials were
reversed...*Stuart Kavan*!?"

Voldemort gave Harry a small round of sarcastic applause. "Very good, Potter...I’d almost
lost faith in you. Yes, it was Kavan. He’s been with me almost since the beginning. Why do I tell
you this? To make you understand how many others there are out there. Do you think if you defeat
me, it’s all over? Harry, how *naïve* you are. I have many followers...Not the least of those
you already know and have leaked to Dumbledore since our last meeting...Ah yes. If you ever do
succeed in killing me, know this... There will *always* be another to take my place.
"

Harry simply smiled wolfishly in reply. "One at a time."

Voldemort, slightly taken aback by Harry’s fearless reply, answered the taunt with a thoughtful
cock of his head, and directed his gaze towards Starven’s lifeless body. "Very well
Harry...But as you see, *no one* crosses me and lives for long. I could feel my servant wished
to leave me, so I eliminated him. Pity that curse won’t work on you; it would be over so quickly.
But then again, where would be the sport in that?"

"I thought you wanted me dead for reasons *other* than sport," Harry replied
evenly.

Voldemort smiled evilly and raised his wand threateningly at Potter, to which Harry replied in
kind. "I think I’ve earned the right to it...Potter...my greatest enemy. I want us to face
each other properly...This way, a victory is truly a victory."

Harry set his jaw and nodded curtly, an intense fire glowing in his eyes.

It began.

"*Letalis Advertum!*"

The blue energy from Harry's wand picked up various objects around the room and whirled them
in the air in a mass of confusion.

Both arms in the air, palms out, Harry magically shoved the items at Voldemort, pelting him with
each one.

Only momentarily taken aback, Voldemort raised his wand.

"*Ferio Circumvolo*!"

A wooden crate from the back of the room flew towards Harry, and managed to strike him on the
head before he could duck, smashing into the wall.

Harry felt the blood drip down his temple and winced, swiping at it quickly.

Voldemort raised his wand towards Hermione, determined to finish her off, one way or the other
in Harry's presence.

"*Avada Kedavra!*"

"**NO!**"

Harry threw himself in front of Hermione just in time to deflect the blast.

"*Reviso!*"

His wand caught the whole of the curse and blue energy on red, he forced the curse back with all
of his might.

A large purple bolt of energy struck Voldemort hard enough to send him crashing into the wall
some five feet behind him.

Harry jumped up and whirled towards Hermione, wand out.

"*Occaceo Saeptum!*"

Immediately a shimmery bubble of transparent blue energy formed over Hermione's body,
shielding her from the next blast. It whizzed past Harry, ruffling his hair and exploded behind him
at Hermione.

The shield seemed to absorb the blast and make itself stronger.

Both Harry and Voldemort breathing heavily, circled each other once again.

"Clever," said Voldemort.

Harry nodded once defiantly, holding his enemy in an intense glare.

"I'm full of surprises."

Voldemort sneered at the boy. "She's still going to die, you know...One way or the
other...I'll get her before we're finished."

Harry shook his head. "I don't think so."

A roar of fury exploded from the dark lord.

"*Compella Deturbo!*"

Harry caught it with his wand, but almost wasn't prepared for the force of fury that came
with it.

The curse slammed him against the wall beside Hermione, but he held fast with his wand. Finally
he pushed out with a mighty heave.

"*Propulso!*"

Voldemort caught the returning energy with his wand and easily deflected it to the floor beside
him.

Nagini, who had been unluckily near, almost caught the blast as it landed beside him.

He hissed loudly and recoiled, slithering to a different section of the room.

Harry noted with interest that Nagini was considerably fatter. He'd made a meal out of the
second snake.

He raised his wand and struck Voldemort hard.

"*Infligo Ascerbitus!*"

The blow glanced Voldemort's arm as he attempted to dodge it; a white hot surge of pain
traveling up and down the limb.

His hideous face twisted in an attempt to control it. He breathed raggedly, clutching the
temporarily useless limb.

"Ruthless, Potter...Starven said you had become quite powerful but I must say I wasn't
quite prepared. However..."

"*Ferio Offendo!*"

Voldemort landed a real blow this time, a force like a sledge hammer to the chest.

The red energy threw Harry across the room and smashed him into a wall. His wand landed a few
yards away.

He sagged to the floor and held his chest, coughing and trying to draw a breath, and looked
towards his left. Hermione was beginning to come around.

She blinked rapidly and sat up on her elbows trying to clear her head.

Harry lay on the floor, willing her to look over and see him.

Voldemort was gliding closer now; a look of smugness on his features, wand extended.

"'Mione," Harry croaked out, and then began coughing uncontrollably.

Hermione blinked again and turned her head. There she saw Harry, illuminated by the red glow
from the fire, laying on the floor gasping to breathe.

She drew in a sharp breath and a sobbing noise escaped her lips.

"Harry!"

She began to crawl to him but was thrown back by the energy field surrounding her.

She realized quickly that Harry must have summoned it to protect her and watched helplessly as
the curse began to drain Harry of his strength.

"Harry NO! Fight it! Fight it!"

He let his head fall back to the floor and grabbed a lung full of air raggedly.

"Get UP, Harry! Fight!"

Hermione pleaded with him desperately, clawing at the field around her and choking back
sobs.

"Harry don't do this! Don't leave me! Please don't leave me!"

Harry blinked at her and rolled to his side, pulling himself painfully into a sitting position
against the wall.

Voldemort stood over him with an expression of triumph and saw Potter look up at him with
weakened eyes.

"So this is how it ends," began Voldemort, smiling cruelly. "The downfall of the
boy-who-lived ends with him on his knees before me.... Fitting, don't you think?"

Voldemort smiled and lowered his wand to Harry's face.

Hermione screamed in agony, still unable to break free of the protective charm Harry had
conjured, although it had weakened considerably. Almost... almost...

"HARRY NO! DO SOMETHING! HARRY, LISTEN TO ME!"

"Fear not Granger!" yelled Voldemort in mock sympathy, "You'll be joining him
soon..."

At that moment, Harry shoved himself from the wall and crashed into Voldemort, knocking him to
the ground and sending the dark lord's wand flying across the room.

As he was stunned momentarily, Harry took the opportunity to land two vicious blows to his face
that left him reeling before he regained his faculties and began to fight back. He punched Harry
back with a mighty blow and picked himself up with some difficulty.

Immediately Harry sent a roundhouse kick to the back of Voldemort's knees, pitching him
forward to the floor once more. Scrambling to him, Harry began thrashing him with wild blows to his
head and stomach.

Finally Voldemort was able to land a particularly hard punch to one of Harry's kidneys,
sending him back to the floor.

"*Accio Scipio!*"

He summoned his wand and it flew across the room into his outstretched hand.

Harry scrambled up from the floor, clutching his side and was mid-stride to meet Voldemort again
when he found the dark lord's wand inches from his face.

He straightened reflexively and head up, backed away a bit.

No one noticed the force field around Hermione. She was almost free...

Voldemort was still doubled over from the heavy blows he had received, but still had enough
power to use his wand.

"*Crucio!*" A bit of suffering before the final blow...

Harry twisted at the last moment and only caught a bit of the curse, but it was still enough to
make him fall back against the wall, clutching himself in agony.

Voldemort raised his wand for the death blow...

But at that moment, Hermione flew across the room, finally free of the force field and threw
herself onto Voldemort's back with all of her might, punching and kicking wherever she could,
and landing a few well placed blows in the process.

Voldemort was able to shrug her off with a mighty heave that sent her flying back against the
wall near Harry.

She crashed into it and slid down beside him, half conscious.

Harry screamed wildly and clutched her to him.

Voldemort saw that his curse had gone wild when Hermione had attacked him and had scorched the
wall above Harry, leaving a long blackened gouge in the wood. Harry had taken that moment and
scrambled to get his wand.

Screaming with fury, he raised his wand again determined to finish both off with the same final
curse. It took a little longer than the Avada Kedavra to finish the victim off, but it worked
nonetheless. There was just a little more suffering involved.

Harry held Hermione protectively to him and raised his wand simultaneously.

"*PESTUS CONLABOR!*" bellowed Voldemort.

"*RETROACTUS!*"

The energy of the two wands of equal strength met in mid air, turning the red from
Voldemort's wand and the blue from Harry's into a thick arced beam of golden purple that
sizzled and crackled electrically in the air.

Harry held his wand with both hands, feeling the vibration of power that threatened to shake his
whole body. He recalled being in this same position the night that Voldemort had recovered his
body... the night that Cedric Diggory had died.

He knew that if he kept pushing hard enough and didn't break the connection, the energy from
both wands being forced back into Voldemort's would cause the echo of his most recent curses to
emerge.

Harry had no wish to see Starven crawl out of the dark lord's wand, but had no choice but to
hold on. If he let go, Voldemort would push the death curse back towards them.

Instinctively, he shifted Hermione's body closer to him on his lap and gripped his wand
tighter.

A thin sheen of sweat stood out on his face and he ground his teeth even tighter, his arms
aching from the tremendous force.

Voldemort was equally determined; the energy from the wands vibrating his whole frame.

Harry knew something had to be done. Neither could hold the curse forever.

When the energy from Harry's wand crossed the halfway point sufficiently enough that he had
more power on his side than Voldemort's, he began to pull up on his wand, ignoring the shooting
pain in his biceps.

Voldemort's red eyes widened as he felt his wand being pulled from him.

He tightened his grasp, screaming in fury, but Harry held fast and gave a sharp yank
upwards.

The purple-gold cord of energy dissipated with a loud snap and Voldemort's wand, still
caught in a blue bolt of energy, sailed back into Harry's hand.

Harry slid Hermione to the floor quickly. Holding out his wand toward Voldemort, he eased his
way to one of the pillars near the door and gave the dark lord a wicked smile, holding the other
wand out and to his side.

Voldemort's face twisted in anger as he realized what Potter was about to do. He screamed
furiously. "NO!"

Harry turned to the pillar and threw his arm in a wide circle, smashing the dark lord's wand
against it.

When the wand splintered apart, the explosion of red energy that left it dispelled upward and
blew a hole through the roof. Freezing rain began to pour into the cabin.

Harry tossed the useless wand aside and extended his wand at Voldemort once more, a dangerous
smile on his face.

Shaking with fury, Voldemort glared at Harry and then gave him a masterfully mocking bow.

"Well then... You've won Potter... Go ahead and do it."

The smile on Harry's face faltered. He knew he had the power now to kill Voldemort, but it
would take one of the unforgivable curses to do it. Dumbledore had always taught them that to use
the dark arts would make you more susceptible to turning evil yourself.

But if he didn't rid himself of Voldemort, the dark lord would continue to seek him out for
the rest of his life.

Harry shook his head defiantly. That's just what Voldemort would want. If he couldn't
kill Harry himself, he would love no more than to turn him towards the dark arts that he hated so
much.

Harry smiled again. The solution had come to him.

"*Exigo Contero!*"

The spell hit the dark lord directly in the chest. He felt himself lifted in the air and then
slammed back down to the ground.

Something was happening to his body. He began convulsing, and blue rays of energy began to break
open from his face, chest and hands, shooting beams of sapphire towards the ceiling.

Voldemort sat up and scanned himself, finally fixing Harry with a look of horror.

Potter had taken his body again. He would be less than alive, forced to live off of other souls,
or to drink unicorn blood to stay alive.

Harry strode over to Hermione and picked her up, carrying her towards where the door had once
been. The rain was falling so hard now that it blew in from outside, pelting the two.

Harry tucked Hermione's robe around her as snugly as he could and began to walk out.

Voldemort stood shakily, staggering towards him, one flesh eaten hand making a grabbing motion;
one last pitiful attempt to control him.

"I'll **KILL** you Potter! You'll *never* be safe! You're friends will
never be safe! You'll always look over your shoulder and wonder, do you hear me!?"

Harry turned a bit and favored Voldemort with a sideways glare, breathing raggedly.

He knew part of what Voldemort said was true, but he *could not* use the dark arts to kill
him.

He shifted Hermione's weight in his arms and allowed her head to fall onto his shoulder.

Voldemort fell in front of them, his arm still reaching out to make one final grab.

Finally, the skeletal body gave one final shudder, and seemed to implode in a burst of blue. The
body was reduced to ashes.

The half-life that Voldemort had left flew out of the ashes in an unearthly screech and flew up
through the hole in the roof, disappearing into the rainy darkness.

Harry stood for a moment, exhausted, and let his head lie on top of Hermione's, closing his
eyes for a brief moment.

He noticed the faint glow of red still wavering steadily in her pocket and kissed her forehead
gently.

Walking outside in the rain, he found his and Starven's brooms gleaming wetly in the
moonlight.

"Up."

The Firebolt rose slowly and Harry straddled it, shifting Hermione's weight once more and
holding her securely.

As quickly as the broom could, it carried the two on the long journey back to Hogwarts.

*****************************************



11. Chapter 11
--------------

Chapter 11

It was dark and supernaturally warm. Hermione opened her eyes to see the long form of Nagini,
bathed in the red glow from the fire. He turned his diamond shaped head to her and grinned
wide-jawed, his large deadly fangs dripping with venom.

He suddenly grew as large as a basilisk and his huge head took up her entire line of vision.

He reared back and opened his jaws wide and Hermione recoiled, seeing only the large pink mouth,
forked tongue, and enormous fangs.

He lunged at her, she fell back and screamed...

Suddenly the picture changed. She was still in the same cabin, but the danger had somehow
shifted from herself. She was now surrounded by Harry's force field again, and this time it was
more than two feet thick...completely impenetrable.

Hermione pressed her hands to it and caught sight of two figures from the corner of her eye.

She turned and saw Harry and Voldemort, circling each other. Harry was badly injured and looked
on the verge of collapse, and Voldemort was taunting him.

"That's right Harry... If Granger hadn't let herself be taken, you would be safe
right now...back at Hogwarts with your friends...under Dumbledore's protection..."

Voldemort’s wand released a small bolt of red energy, striking Harry in the chest. Not enough to
harm him permanently, but enough to make him suffer.

Harry cried out for a moment but tried to stay strong. He tried to retaliate, but his wand
wouldn't respond. He threw it to the side angrily and held his hands up in an attack
stance.

"That's not true... She tried to fight back...You killed her!"

Hermione realized with a sinking horror that Harry thought she was dead.

"Harry, I'm here! Don't give up! I'm still here..."

She banged and clawed at the force field, but even her voice couldn't penetrate... and Harry
wasn't looking.

"Harry!"

"She's the reason you're here, Potter... The reason you're going to
die..."

Another red bolt zapped Harry in the arm. Harry fell back and clutched his arm, hissing through
his teeth in pain.

"Harry! No...I'm sorry! Please..." yelled Hermione.

"Liar..." Harry growled to Voldemort, lunging at him. The dark lord side-stepped him
easily, letting him fall to the floor.

Harry tried to get back up but Voldemort shot an even more painful bolt to both of Harry's
legs, and his knees buckled, sending him to the floor, once more.

He tried again to stand, but his legs were useless.

Finally facing Hermione's way, he caught sight of her in the corner, surrounded by the
transparent blue. His eyes widened.

"She never cared about you, Potter..."

"No Harry! I tried to fight; I tried to get away! Please..."

"She was willing to let you come here; to fight me..."

"Shut up!" screamed Harry, but he looked over to Hermione with a betrayed look in his
eyes.

"She could've gotten away...In a way, she must've *wanted* you to have to face
me...

"Harry, that's NOT TRUE! I'd *never* willingly put you in danger..."

But then, Harry shook his head. He looked hopeless and resigned.

"He's right..."

"NO! He's lying..."

"You never really cared about me... No one ever has..."

"*I LOVE YOU*!" Hermione clawed at the force field and made her fingers bleed.
She began sobbing frantically.

"I don't have anything left to live for..." said Harry in an almost surprised
voice.

"Harry, NO! HARRY!"

Suddenly Harry rose to his knees and threw out his arms, his head back.

Voldemort grinned. "I thought so... Goodbye Potter..."

"No..." Hermione breathed raggedly.

"*PESTIS CONLABOR!*"

The curse hit Harry hard in the chest and he crumpled to the floor, twitching in the last throes
of death.

"*HARRY*!" screamed Hermione desperately.

No answer.

"*HARRY*!!"

Hermione bolted upright in the dim room, completely unaware of her surroundings.

"Miss Granger...it's all right...calm down now."

She heard a familiar gravelly voice. She looked around wildly to see Headmaster Dumbledore on
her left, holding her hand and Ron to the right, staring at her wildly with heavy lids and heavily
glazed eyes as if he'd just been abruptly awakened.

"'Mione...wh...whudizit...what...You're awake!"

Ron sat bolt upright in his chair, grabbing her other hand.

"Are you all right!? How'd you feel!?"

Hermione shook her head, trying to gather her senses about her.

"Ron! Professor Dumbled... Where's Harry!? Where is he!?"

Hermione looked terrified and tried to crawl out of her bed, but both Dumbledore and Ron
restrained her.

"He's all right Miss Granger... He's all right. See for yourself..."

Dumbledore shifted a little in his seat and Hermione peered past him to the bed on her left.

There lay Harry, in a black tee shirt and flannel pajama pants. He was sprawled out unevenly,
twisted in the bed covers, one arm bent under his head, the other dangling over the side of the
bed.

His mouth was open and he was muttering somewhat; his head turning from side to side every now
and then.

Hermione caught a few phrases like "Don't touch her..." and some mutterings of
wand curses.

She closed her eyes briefly, letting a ragged sigh escape her lips. It had been a dream...he was
ok...

"'Mione, are you ok? Answer me!"

Hermione turned to look at Ron. He had a frantic look about his face; dark circles under his
eyes. His hair stood up in odd places all over his head. He looked almost as bad as Harry and she
must look at the moment. She squeezed his hand and mustered a small smile.

"I'm ok, Ron...just a bit sore."

Ron finally nodded, but still clutched her hand as if afraid to let go.

He slumped back in his seat and rubbed his forehead. Hermione favored him with an affectionate
smile, but then turned to Dumbledore.

"Why is Harry still sleeping...Are you sure he's all right?"

Dumbledore patted the air patiently. "He's all right Hermione...He's just
exhausted. Madame Pomfrey gave him a sleeping draught. Unfortunately, it was the only bottle that
she had left, and not powerful enough to give him a dreamless sleep."

"No! 'Mione stay back..." Harry thrashed in his bed once and turned on his side,
throwing an arm over his head.

Dumbledore sighed and turned back towards Hermione. "I think we should talk now before he
awakens. Harry informed us of everything that happened. Apparently you were unconscious for most of
it."

Hermione nodded, not taking her eyes from his sleeping form. "I don't remember much
about the fight... Only what happened before then. I came to once or twice while Voldemort and
Harry fought...I think...I hope I helped some." She shuddered at the memory of Voldemort's
hideous face, and the huge python that had watched her so intently. "Professor...is...is
Voldemort dead?"

Dumbledore shook his head, his eyes closed. "No. He's still alive, although he no
longer has his body. Harry made sure of that..."

Dumbledore paused thinking of the right way to phrase his next words.

"In order for Harry to kill Voldemort, he would need to use a dark curse, for as you know,
a killing spell is a dark arts curse. The user needs to be extremely careful... it's not
something to be taken lightly. As I've told you all, the use of the dark arts makes the user
more susceptible to the allure of them... It would be difficult for even a fully trained wizard to
use a killing curse without feeling its draw... Harry understood this, and he acted in the only way
he could... for now. Unfortunately that means that the dark lord is still alive, and still a
danger, no matter what his state."

Hermione swallowed, trying to absorb all of the information. "What about Starven? He's
the one that took me... He's in league with Voldemort..."

"Dead," said Ron.

Hermione whirled to look at him.

"Voldemort killed him... Seems Starven, uh, rather Kavan, had wanted to run, but Harry made
him lead him to you... I guess Voldemort knew he was trying to leave."

"Kavan!? Is that Starven’s real name!?" Where had she heard that name before? There
were too many questions...Hermione clenched her fists so hard that the fingernails dug into her
palms. Both she and Harry had come so close to death themselves...

"No worries now, Hermione," said Dumbledore in a soothing voice "Both you and
Harry are fine...He should awaken at any time now."

Hermione turned her head quickly to gaze out the window at the clear night.

"Professor, shouldn't he sleep longer? He needs it..."

Dumbledore smiled affectionately at Hermione and patted her hand. "My dear, you've been
asleep for three days."

Hermione's eyes widened in shock. "Three days!?"

Ron sat up and nodded numbly, wiping his tired eyes.

Dumbledore turned towards Ron and affected a stern expression. "And now Ronald, I fulfilled
my part of the bargain; Miss Granger is awake. It's time for you to get some rest of your
own."

Ron straightened quickly and protested.

"Professor, can't I just stay until Harry wakes up? Like you said it shouldn't be
too long..."

"I estimated at that Mr. Weasley," replied Dumbledore sternly, but not without a kind
smile, "We're not sure quite how long it will take, and I've let you sleep in here for
two nights already... Go off to bed."

Ron sighed and stood, stretching his sore muscles. He gazed at Hermione, smiling.

"I'm so glad you're both back here safely...I was so worried."

Hermione smiled at him and pulled his hand down so that she could peck him on the cheek.

She felt a lump rising in her throat that kept her from speaking. Tears began to well in her
eyes.

Ron took one look and took a step back, holding up his hands in a defensive gesture. "Well,
that's my cue!...'Mione *please* don't cry...I can't stand it! I never know
what to do..."

Hermione rolled her watery eyes at him and slapped her hand down. "Ron, you great prat! I
swear..."

"That's me," he replied lightly, smirking a bit, but then smiled genuinely.
"I'll see you two soon."

He left, clicking the door shut gently behind him. Hermione turned her attention back to
Dumbledore, who was gazing at Harry with something bordering on...respect?

She opened her mouth to question him but at that moment Madame Pomfrey strode in, her arms full
of flowers, candy and cards.

She almost dropped them when she saw Hermione sitting upright and awake.

"Headmaster!" she shrieked.

Hermione bit back a guffaw as Dumbledore jerked in surprise, and turned to face her.

She was the only one in the school who could scold him and get away with it.

"I *thought* I told you and Mr. Weasley to come get me the *minute* one of them
awoke!"

"She only just awoke, Poppy..."

"Where is Ronald as a matter of fact!?"

Hermione spoke up. "He's been sent off to bed."

"I just sent him off..." began Dumbledore.

"Well it's *about* *time* too!" Pomfrey cut him off again and strode
over to a table near Harry and Hermione's beds, dumping the gifts and flowers unceremoniously.
"Two days sleeping in a chair, holding on to those two's hands for dear life... I
don't know why I allowed it!"

She strode over to Dumbledore, hands on her hips, and puffed at a frizzy piece of auburn hair
that kept falling in her eyes.

"And now I want you out of here too, please...I have a patient to examine..."

Dumbledore nodded gently and rose with a smile. "I was just leaving."

He began to walk out with a nod towards Hermione, but she stopped him. She still had many
questions she wanted answered.

"Professor wait! About Starven... How did he get in the school undetected? I don't
understand...What about the Ministry?"

Dumbledore thought for a moment before he spoke. There had been a serious flaw in the charming
of the school grounds, although not one that had been foreseeable. Since Kavan had once been a
student, and since disappearing, his name had never been bothered to be changed to non-student
status, the "charm" as it was, had recognized him as a student, and had not alarmed the
teachers of his presence. Even now, since Kavan’s whereabouts were now known, the ministry was
trying to determine who the bones found in Knockturn Alley belonged to. Dumbledore didn’t wish to
burden Hermione with information that had nothing to do with her, so he chose his words carefully.
"Starven was already here when Professors McGonnagol, Snape and I put the safety charms around
the school so there was no way of knowing... As far as the ministry is concerned, they did have
some to do with this as Quidditch is one part of the Ministry of Magic, and they hired the
recruiters... Starven wasn't the imposter's real name... We've recovered his body and
it's being sent to the ministry for an investigation. That’s all I can tell you for now Miss
Gran..."

"Yes, yes..." began Pomfrey, cutting in once again, "I'm sure the
Ministry's been turned on it's ear trying to figure out how one of Voldemort's minions
infiltrated them and disguised himself so easily, but the questions will have to wait Miss Granger.
You've been seriously beaten about and you need to lie back and relax while I examine
you."

"But I need to know..."

"No buts! It'll all be there when you're well enough to hear it. Now lie
still!"

Hermione grimaced and glanced over to Dumbledore while Pomfrey poked and prodded her.

Once again, Dumbledore gave Hermione a "she's only doing her job" smile, and left
quietly, clicking the door shut behind him.

While Pomfrey examined her, both she and Hermione heard low moans and mumblings coming from the
bed beside them.

Hermione kept straining to peer past Pomfrey at Harry but she kept gently pushing her back
down.

Finally, Pomfrey sighed as well and turned to glance at Harry, shaking her head and tsking. Her
expression was one of annoyance mixed with worry.

She began mumbling sharply to herself as she turned back to Hermione, peering in her eyes and
then gently peeling the bandage from her forehead to change it.

"I swear that boy...always marching off like a hero...wonder he's not already
dead...bursting in here carrying you like a limp rag doll, both of you drenched and filthy, covered
in bruises and cuts...lucky *those* were easy to mend...no broken bones..."

Hermione glanced sideways at Pomfrey with wide, surprised eyes. He had carried her? She
couldn't remember...

"...wouldn't even leave your side...tried to make him go get some rest...wouldn't
budge...finally had to *force* him to drink the sleeping potion...no sleep in over thirty five
hours...just sat there and stared at you..."

Hermione sat up quickly, her eyes full of tears. She almost bumped heads with Pomfrey and locked
her eyes with a gaze of misery.

"Harry stayed here with me the whole time? Even though he didn't have too!?"

Pomfrey's expression changed instantly, surprise lighting her face as she realized Granger
had been listening. But she sighed irritably, glad for someone to hear her woes.

"Couldn't make him leave!" She gazed back at Harry. "He flew in here three
nights ago carrying you...you looked awful...We even had a hard time making him let you go! He was
just in tears...wouldn't leave your side for one minute. Found him in here the next day curled
up beside you on the bed. Well that was the last straw! I told him if he was going to stay he had
to clean up, eat something and take the sleeping draught...Finally made him; good thing too. Poor
thing looked about ready to collapse."

When Pomfrey turned back to Hermione, she saw the girl slumped down in misery, her hands over
her eyes. A torrent of tears spilled down her cheeks and she could hardly speak.

"He did all that for me..."

Pomfrey's usually hard expression softened and she sat on Hermione's bed, placing an arm
about her shoulders and pulling the younger girl to her.

"Now then...no need for all of that...of course he did." She patted Hermione's
shoulder comfortingly, settled her back in her bed once more, pulled the covers up to her waist and
turned to leave the room.

Hermione sighed raggedly and tore her gaze from Harry to look at Pomfrey.

"Madame...what'd you mean 'of course he did'?"

Pomfrey stopped and gazed at Hermione, her eyebrows lowered in a not unkind scowl. She shook her
head in astonishment.

"Great wizards...Love truly *is* blind...no matter *what* age you are."

She stood for a moment taking in the surprised, confused look on the young girl's face and
then strode over to the door and pointed her wand at the candle lamps in the room.

"*Incendium Extinguo*."

Instantly, the candles snuffed themselves out, leaving the infirmary lit only by the light of
the moon, shining in through the window.

Pomfrey took one last look at her wards and sighed, shutting the door behind her gently.

Hermione lay still for a moment, gazing at the ceiling. Since she'd already slept for three
days, and so much plagued her mind, she didn't know how she was supposed to sleep the night
through.

She turned towards her night stand and found a round mirror in the drawer. Taking it out and
gazing at her reflection, only lit by the moon, she gently lifted the bandage on her head. The
wound had already healed, thanks to whatever Madame Pomfrey had magicked up. Pomfrey was always
over-careful, and the material itched like crazy, so Hermione lifted it off of her head and laid it
aside.

The small nicks and cuts on her face, arms and legs, and all of the bruising had been easily
dealt with. But the pain would take some time to subside. Both she and Harry had taken quite a few
lumps.

But the most noticeable difference were her eyes. The reflection that stared back at her was no
longer confident, but seemed haunted.

A million different thoughts began swimming in her head as she laid the mirror down and turned
over to gaze at Harry, who was blessedly devoid of nightmares for the moment.

How long would she, Harry, and Ron have to go through this? Voldemort wasn't going to stop
until either he or Harry were dead. And he wouldn't stop trying to get to him through any means
necessary.

Hermione thought about what Dumbledore had said about the use of dark magic. She had somehow
known that Harry wouldn't kill Voldemort. He wouldn't use dark magic even if he could
without it taking hold of him. Dark magic was what killed his parents, and Harry loathed it.
He'd hated Voldemort and everything he stood for from the moment he'd found out the truth
about his parents' death.

But someday, Hermione knew, Harry might be forced to use it, for it was the only thing that
would permanently rid them of the dark lord. He'd have to be strong enough to use the dark arts
without being consumed by it.

Harry had become quite powerful, but still not powerful enough to kill and be able to let go of
that power once it was done. One had to be very strong to use it and turn from it afterwards.

But Voldemort was still alive, even without his body; and since he had found a way to get it
back before, he would find a way again. He still had supporters out there; ones who claimed to have
seen the error of their ways, but were secretly waiting for a sign from him...

"NO! Don't go near her...fight me...d...don't..."

Harry had begun to dream again. The blankets were hopelessly twisted around him as he tossed.
One arm flew out and knocked his glasses from the nightstand.

Quickly Hermione got up and walked over to him, picking up the thin lenses and setting them back
on his table.

Finally, he settled uneasily back into his favorite position, one arm curled under his head, the
other draped across his stomach, when Hermione saw a chain dangling from his fist.

Reaching over to gently pry apart his fingers, she slowly pulled the chain from his grip.

It was the pendant necklace that he had given her. The red heart glowed brilliantly in the dark
room.

Hermione closed her eyes for a brief moment, holding the pendant to her. For a while, the
necklace had been the only thing that had kept her from breaking down when Voldemort had her.

She tried to keep the tears from coming but she couldn't help it.

She lowered her head as a wave of guilt ran through her. She stayed that way for some time
before speaking softly.

"Harry...I'm so sorry."

Harry turned his head and slowly opened his eyes. The room swam for a few moments before it came
into focus. He made out the slightly blurry form of Hermione, standing beside his bed, tears
streaming down her face. She was holding her necklace to her chest, and choking back sobs that left
her shaking.

Harry's mind cleared quickly enough to remember all that had happened and he tried too
quickly to sit up. He felt a wave of pain run through his head and opted to try it again a little
more slowly.

Hermione jumped back a little, startled that he was awake. Quickly she swiped the tears from her
face as Harry grasped her hand, drawing her closer.

"'Mione! How long've you been awake? Are you ok? Do you hurt anywhere? What's
wr..."

"I'm ok, Harry," Hermione cut him off gently and looked down, "Y..You were
having a nightmare... I guess I had them too."

"Was I? I don't remember..."

Harry squinted his eyes shut and swiped a hand over his head, his hair a mess. Hermione thought
she hadn't seen him look so young in a long time. When he fought Voldemort he looked so
dangerous it was hard to remember that they were only sixteen, but in this moment, with the moon
playing over his smooth features, sans glasses, in a rumpled tee-shirt and pajama pants, he seemed
a young boy again.

Harry tried to stretch but found that the pain in his spine wouldn't allow him too; one too
many times being thrown against the wall or to the floor. He groaned a little and put a hand to his
back.

"Bloody hell...I feel like I've been run over by a hippogriff."

Hermione dropped his hand and backed up a little, pressing her lips together and fighting the
urge to cry again.

Harry looked up at her confusedly, with those achingly beautiful green eyes again, even more so
without the glasses, and she lost it.

Her chest heaved and she stepped back, landing heavily back onto her bed, and staring at him
through tears.

"Harry...I'm s..so sorry...I'm so sorry!"

Instantly Harry shot out of bed and was at her side, ignoring the pain. He sat beside her and
took her face in his hands, searching it desperately.

"For what!? What'd you mean? Wh...what is it? Are you hurting? Where?"

She pulled away from him and grabbed his hands, staring at him intensely.

"This is all because of me! You had to face Voldemort again because of me! H..He almost
KILLED you..." She sobbed again and shook her head at herself angrily, "All because of
me..."

"What!?" Harry looked almost angry at her and turned her face up to meet his gaze.

She looked at him reluctantly, guilt and shame all over her face.

"Hermione, that's *crazy*! He took you to get to ME! It was *my* fault!"
said Harry in exasperation.

"If I had tried harder...maybe I could've gotten away! You wouldn't have even had
to come after me! I fought Starven but I wasn't strong enough...With the wand, I had him, but
he blew it away from me...and then...I couldn't *fight* him physically...he was too
strong..."

"'Mione, I came after you because I *love* you!"

Immediately, Hermione's gaze shot up. She supposed later that most girls instant reactions
to that statement would have been some love-sick hysteria...more sobbing... but she opted for
stunned silence.

She couldn't even force the word "what!?" out properly, so it came out more as a
strangled whisper.

Harry raked a hand through his hair and brought it to the back of his neck, rubbing it harshly.
A multitude of emotions raged on his face, but one that did not register was confusion.

He knew now exactly how he felt. What he didn't know was how she felt. He rubbed his neck
hard once more and let his hand fall to his lap.

"I..I know you might not feel the same way yet..or, or ever...I know we just started going
out a few days ago. But I've known you for six years now, and this...th...it didn't just
start for me...I think I've loved you for years...I just...We were friends and I didn't
want to ruin it...for Ron either. And now...now that Voldemort knows, you're in more danger
than ever, and it's because of me. And we can't go back now..He already knows...he already
knows..."

"Harry." Hermione breathed out his name. She didn't trust herself to be able to
speak normally yet.

Harry looked down anxiously, shaking his head. At what...he didn't know. He was just
overcome.

Hermione screwed up her courage. "Harry, I've loved you for so long it hurts."

Instantly Harry's mouth dropped open and he jerked his gaze up to hers. Words completely
left him.

Hermione knew that it might seem like a silly thing to say, but it was true. It had been almost
physically painful to love him and not be with him.

They both began breathing rapidly. Was it from what they had just admitted? Neither were sure,
but both had just stepped over a line that couldn't be re-crossed.

Harry was sure that he would never ever forget those nine words for as long as he lived. They
were the sweetest and most powerful that he had ever heard, and they were for him...from her. He
was completely amazed.

In an instant they were in each others arms, kissing so desperately that it seemed like the
first one.

Harry wrapped his arms around her tightly, crushing her to him. It scared him to know how much
he needed her. He didn't even feel worthy of her and yet, she had chosen him.

Hermione ran her fingers through Harry's tousled hair and gently crushed a handful of it in
her fist. She had waited so long for him to hold her...kiss her...touch her...

Both secretly hoped the other had enough will power to stop. Harry laid Hermione back gently. He
kissed her hair, her cheeks, her neck. She tangled both hands in his hair and kissed the top of his
head, bringing his lips to hers again.

She kissed his cheeks, his ears. Harry's hands began to wander again of their own accord. He
kissed all over her face, the hollow of her neck, her collarbone...

But as soon as his hand made it under her pajama top he stopped, breathing raggedly.

He flopped beside her and ran a hand over his face.

"You're killin' me Hermione...you know that don't you..."

Hermione stared at him intensely, breathing just as raggedly. *You and me* *both...*
she thought guiltily.

Harry slid a hand under her waist and drew her close to him. She laid on her back, her head on
the arm that was curled under his head.

They laid like that for some time, both still very aware of the others nearness.

After a while, it was clear to Hermione that Harry was deep in thought about something and was
unsure of how to share it with her. Knowing him so well, she decided to tough out the wait until he
was ready.

Finally Harry spoke in a whisper.

"'Mione..."

"Mmm?"

"I uh...I want to...I need to show you something."

Harry turned on his side facing her, and with a look of apprehension, stretched a hand towards
the lamp by her bed.

In a quiet but eerily masterful tone, he muttered a spell.

"*Lucerna Ascendo*."

The dark lamp began to rattle a little on her table and then slowly rose, hovering at the same
height as Harry's hand.

The higher Harry lifted his hand, the higher the lamp rose until he finally willed it to stop
about five feet above them.

Hermione was stunned. She looked at Harry almost a little fearfully, and sure enough, saw no
wand in his hand. Her eyes widened.

"*Harry...*"

Only fully grown wizards were able to perform magic without their wands...and that had only come
after many years of study and practice.

Harry glanced at her a little nervously and then back at the lamp.

"*Igniculus.*"

He snapped his fingers and instantly a tiny flame kindled on the wick of the candle.

When Harry wiggled his fingers at it the flame rose higher and burned brighter until he was
satisfied with it, and lowered his hand.

He turned a little hesitantly to take in Hermione's reaction. She just continued to stare
with an expression of awe at the lamp burning brightly above them.

Finally she turned towards Harry.

"How...how long've you been able to do that?"

Harry turned his gaze back toward the lamp. "For a while now...You're the only one that
knows. I haven't even told Ron."

Hermione shifted up onto her elbow, looking down at him. "Harry...how...what else can you
do?"

He shrugged. "A few things...I wish I could levitate more than one thing at a time without
my wand though. It might've helped with Voldemort..."

"But still, Harry! You...you're not supposed to be able to do that!"

Harry turned from her and sighed, a troubled expression on his face.

"I know."

He stretched a hand toward the lamp again and closed his hand into a fist. The flame snuffed
itself out.

Then he magically led the lamp back to its nightstand.

Hermione fell back again onto his arm and moved closer, amazed at what she had just witnessed.
It mightn't have seemed like much when faced with wizards like Dumbledore, but she and Harry
weren't even fully grown wizards. Mastering magic without the wand usually took years of
intense practice and incredibly, it just came to Harry?

He'd defeated Voldemort at age one, defying reason by emerging unhurt from the Avada Kedavra
curse and also almost killing the dark lord. He'd faced him many times since and the dark lord
had yet to defeat him completely. And now this?

"What *are* you..." Hermione whispered barely audibly.

"I'm just a wizard Hermione," Harry answered quietly, "I'm just...a
little different."

Harry turned toward her in that moment and looked more vulnerable than Hermione had ever seen
him. He had grown up so much, and had become so powerful, and yet... at times Hermione swore she
still saw the little discarded boy on Privet Drive, locked in the cupboard under the stairs behind
his eyes.

She realized it had taken a lot of courage for him to show her what he just had, knowing that it
might have caused her to back away from him.

He had a beseeching look on his face, quietly pleading with her to tell him it was ok... that
she still loved him, as different as he was...with all of the trouble that followed him...

Hermione replied by kissing him as thoroughly as she could, wrapping her arms around him. Harry
responded immediately, holding her as tightly as he could.

When they finally broke apart, completely breathless, they turned on their sides, facing one
another and snuggled close. Hermione rested her face in Harry's neck, an arm about his waist
and he put a hand on the back of her head and one arm underneath and around her.

Harry lay there for some time, listening to her breathing change. It had taken a mere half and
hour or so for her to fall asleep.

He felt his mind begin to drift as well and focused on a few remaining thoughts.

Voldemort almost certainly would come again, and he wanted to be ready; even more prepared. He
wasn't ashamed to admit to himself that the dark lord had been clumsy...he'd underestimated
Harry, and as a result, hadn't fought as well as he could. Harry had been lucky and he knew
that Voldemort wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

He needed to learn more about these powers that suddenly had begun revealing themselves to him.
Somewhere deep in his gut, he knew the day would come soon when one final battle would take place.
He needed to be ready.

Harry held out the hand that was encircling Hermione, palm out, and whispered quietly.

"*Infligo.*"

A small blue flame erupted in his palm, wavering slightly. He watched it for a moment and then
squelched it with his fist, a small smile playing on his face.

Finally he closed his eyes, held Hermione close, and let sleep claim him.

******************************************************

THE END (for now) ;0)