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Harry Potter and the Maw by Woodrow M
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Harry Potter and the Maw

Woodrow M

(A/N: Corrupted Chapter should be fixed!

Summary of 24: Harry's trip in Gates manor goes awry with a Death Eater attack; and just as he was discovering some information on the Pravus Necklace, too! But Harry finds 'controlling the Dark Mark' to be infinitely useful, and it ends up saving his life. How was Gates Manor invaded? No one knows...)

The next day Harry sat idly in Dumbledore's office, waiting for the headmaster to begin a line of conversation, vaguely wondering how long it would take Gates to finish inspecting the school grounds. The Christmas holidays were not yet over - indeed, Christmas had not even arrived - and the Hit Wizard, from the moment they arrived, put Harry in the care of Dumbledore as he ensured the Hogwarts was secure.

This led to a rather boring wait.

The halls were empty of students and the only occupants were a few professors, Aurors, and ghosts. Many parents, who were already leery about sending their children away to school with Voldemort rising, brought them back home. While the school was still surrounded with ministry Aurors, little faith was placed into them.

More troubling, there was an unsettling absence of any public attacks or Death Eater activities over the past few weeks. It seemed like Voldemort had lost interest in any sort of mass murders since Hogsmeade, and was instead focusing his attention on another project. Those who knew of the prophecy knew that the goal was, of course, killing Harry.

The sun was rising, spreading its rays through the windows and reflecting off Dumbledore's lacquered desk. Some of the light was caught by the headmaster's half-moon spectacles, adding a bit of a twinkle where there perhaps was none. Dumbledore surveyed Harry for a long time before speaking.

"I have arranged for the Weasley's and Miss Granger to come to Hogwarts on Christmas Day," began Dumbledore, obviously intent on breaking through the awkward silence between them. "The Granger's, due to previous engagements, could not come, though they were very understanding concerning Miss Granger's wish to be here." A twinkle in his eye flashed and disappeared.

Harry sighed deeply. "Yesterday reminded me of the- the prophecy."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, I see. Do you understand the reasons for us not informing the public of the incidents in Gates manor?"

"Yeah," Harry mumbled. He remembered Dumbledore saying something about reducing public anxiety and fear. He had not really been paying attention. To him, the less public attention he received, the better.

"Then that leaves one other alternative," Dumbledore said. "Have you told Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley of the prophecy?"

"Why would I do that?" Harry said suddenly, defensively. "What good would it do? Hermione- she would panic, and Ron can't be put under that sort of stress. I can't, I just can't."

"You need all the friends you can get, Harry," said Dumbledore reasonably. "This isn't something that can be accomplished alone-"

"That's not what the prophecy says."

"But you certainly cannot expect Voldemort to descend from the skies to duel you alone," Dumbledore replied. "Your friends will be needed to take you far enough to confront Voldemort yourself. I believe Miss Granger already suspects that you are hiding this. She can read you easily, Harry."

"You want them- you want her to become fodder for me so I can get close enough?" Harry said angrily. "They can't know. That's exactly what I'm trying to prevent-"

"That is not what I want, Harry," Dumbledore said calmly. "Hiding the prophecy's contents is damaging - to yourself and your friends. Share it with those you trust. It is a burden too heavy to carry alone."

Dumbledore always did have a flare for the dramatic metaphors, said Pseudo-Snape.

"They can't become involved," Harry said with finality.

"I'm afraid they already are involved, Harry," said Dumbledore sadly. "Severus, you may come in now…"

Harry jumped in his chair as the door behind him swung open. Snape, dressed in a full black robe with a high collar, swept in, his expression not at all like it was normally. His stiff and arrogant posture was replaced with an almost anxious stride, as though he were running from something. His expression, always on the verge of a sneer, was stony and reserved. Something was deeply troubling the Potions master, and that, in turn, disturbed Harry.

Harry could have swore that Pseudo-Snape hissed, fear.

"Thank you, headmaster," said Snape smoothly, surrounding himself once more with an aura of confidence. He looked down at Harry. "Mr. Potter," he added shortly.

"Professor Snape informed me of the…vision you had during your lesson," said Dumbledore. "And, as I could not simply view it as a hallucination, I asked him to investigate further into this anomaly. Severus, I suppose it is best if you explain the rest…"

"It now seems that your inexperience with reversing the Dark Mark's effects had sent your mind astray," Snape said, his tone sparing none of its innate hardness. "I- We now believe that you did indeed detect a Death Eater in Hogwarts." A chill air took the room as he said this, and, for a fleeting moment, Harry saw something like fear cross Snape's face.

"But wouldn't you have seen the Death Eater previously?" said Harry. "Why didn't you detect the Death Eater?"

Snape gritted his teeth. "As I said, your inexperience sent your mind astray. It took avenues of travel that I would not normally attempt exploring. The Death Eater you had…found has a mind that did not operate on normal wavelengths, if you understand my meaning."

Harry's expression turned confused.

"The Death Eater is insane," said Snape evenly. His gaze went out the window, towards the open grounds. After a moment he continued, "Insane minds are difficult to read under the best of circumstances, and most difficult to detect. I would not have found him had I not known what I was looking for."

"What does this mean?"

"It means, Mr. Potter, that we will not be able to pinpoint the Death Eater's location at any given time," Snape said impatiently. "I do not doubt that the Dark Lord had designed this way. Perhaps he had even driven a healthy mind insane for this very purpose. Either way, your proficiency with controlling your Dark Mark will prove to be worthless unless you are in the Death Eater's presence. Which, I should add, will not be happening this year."

"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore said, effectively shortening the Potions master's tirade. "This threat cannot be ignored. I confess that recent events have left me to reevaluate Voldemort's power."

"The attack on Gates manor has left me particularly troubled," continued Dumbledore. "I am uncertain as to how Voldemort has accomplished either of these feats: breaching Hogwarts wards or the manor's Fidelus Charm. Perhaps the two are related, perhaps not, but it is beyond any doubt that Voldemort's sphere of strength and cunning has grown."

Abruptly, unexpectedly, Snape spoke. "Even I, who had served the Dark Lord for years, did not foresee this." His normally calm voice almost wavered.

"Everyone is doing as much as they can," Dumbledore said. "Aurors are securing the most commonly used corridors and the castle's secret entrances. Mr. Alverton himself has allocated some ministry resources into reinforcing Hogwarts' defenses. Alex and I are strengthening the wards, and Severus is attempting, at great personal risk, to discover Voldemort's plans."

"Why would Fudge give out ministry resources?" Harry asked. "I thought Fudge was just trying to keep the public off of his back by diverting attention."

"Minister Fudge is no longer minister," said Snape distantly. He looked very tense, as though expecting Voldemort himself to burst through the window at any moment.

"Cornelius' plan backfired," Dumbledore explained. "Rather than diverting attention, it made the public and the council all the more anxious. They came to the conclusion that Cornelius is not a suitable minister, and his negligence has threatened the security of both the muggle and wizarding worlds. He was impeached, and the same day Amelia Bones was chosen as a temporary substitute."

"Fudge is no longer a concern," Snape said. He still sounded distracted. "The wizarding community seems to have…settled."

"Settled?"

"As you know," Dumbledore said. "Rita Skeeter has ignored my warnings and has been entering Hogwarts illegally. Since her article on Hagrid, however, her writings have suddenly ceased."

Harry nodded. Hermione and him had noticed as much. "What does it mean?"

"I do not know, but it is very suspicious indeed," Dumbledore said slowly. "Individuals such as Rita have been known to put profit before all else, even their own futures. I cannot begin to imagine what she has been up to, whether it be good or evil."

"Gates has the Marauder's map," Harry said suddenly. "The map- it was my dad's. It shows everything in the school. He will be able to see her."

Dumbledore sighed, and glanced fleetingly at Snape. "Me and Severus are well aware of the Marauder's map, and have already approached Alex. I'm afraid that he does not see Rita's disappearance as a concern. All of his efforts have been focused on finding the Death Eater that attacked you, and, apparently, he has been unsuccessful."

"How could Gates be unsuccessful?" Harry asked incredulously. "The Death Eater is in Hogwarts, so he should show up on the Marauder's map, right?"

"Unless," Dumbledore said. "The Death Eater can travel in and out of Hogwarts at will."

"That's impossible," Snape countered. There was a vehemence in his voice that was quite unrelated to logical reasoning. "You cannot simply waltz into Hogwarts on a whim. We already established that the Death Eater must be residing within these walls. There must be another explanation."

"Many impossible things have already happened this year, Severus."

The Potions master did not respond. There was no arrogance or anger in his countenance, but a cool wariness.

Abruptly, the door behind them burst open and Snape whirled around, drawing his wand in a flash. Gates strode in, and, exhaling deeply, Snape lowered his rigid arm. Harry could not place it, but there was something unidentifiable in the Potion master's expression at that second. It was evident in the slight widening of the eyes, the clenched teeth. As soon as it came, however, it vanished, and Snape relaxed. He looked as though he had just experienced a heart attack.

"Careful, Severus," said Gates, whose own hand was on his wand. "Such accidents can prove to be fatal." He swept by the still-recovering Potions master and went before Dumbledore's desk.

"So you have found Hogwarts to be secure?" asked Dumbledore.

Gates nodded shortly. "I searched the Owlery, Great Hall, Infirmary, the main grounds, part of the forest, the towers, and the dungeons. Nothing. Not even a trace. I suppose it should be safe for Potter to use the rest of the castle, presuming he is never without guardianship."

"Then we should all be eternally thankful for your presence," said Snape, sparing none of his sarcasm.

Gates' head snapped towards Snape. "If it weren't for me, the boy would've died at Hogsmeade. Not that it should matter. He deserves little concern. I can't understand why so many dwell on that fluke at Godric's Hollow when others have fought and risked much more than him."

So that's what it comes down to, Pseudo-Snape said.

"You think I wanted it that way?" Harry blurted out, staring venomously up at Gates.

The Hit Wizard looked down at him in a slightly surprised fashion. "He was mine," Gates said angrily.

"Fate determined Voldemort's destruction, not Harry," Dumbledore said calmly.

Gates looked ready to explode with rage, but suddenly he snorted. "Another nonsensical statement. What is fate to you, old man?"

"He didn't steal any of your honor because you had none to begin with," said Snape. "What makes you think slaying the Dark Lord would change what you are?"

Gates' mouth twitched. "None of you know what you are referring to," he said viciously. "You spout wise, utterly inane words. None of it has any real meaning." He pointed accusingly at Harry, his necklace glittering as he did so. "His luck-" He sputtered, fumbling with words, as though he knew what he wanted to express but could not put it into words. "That scar is simply a mark, nothing more! Not skill nor strength made him survive, but luck." He paused and looked over to Dumbledore. "-Or fate, if that satisfies you, old man. He- he stole it from me! THE HONOR WAS MINE! IT BELONGED TO ME!" Gates closed his eyes, breathing. "He's a little thief," he snarled.

"He is no thief," Dumbledore said sharply, rising from his desk. He looked very imposing, standing up. "Sirius put him in your charge because he trusted you at one point. Earn what little honor is left to you and complete your charge."

Gates backed up a little, though from fear or shock Harry could not tell. Perhaps both. He blinked. Despite his great height, he seemed rather small compared to Dumbledore's rising impatience. Slowly, Gates inhaled and stiffened his stance. Fighting posture. To Gates, Harry realized, the combative tension could only end in one way: a duel. His honor was on the line, and he was not ready to surrender it.

Dumbledore, sensing the change, sank back into his chair. Carefully, he folded his glasses and set them on the desk. He had done this only a few times before, and each time Harry was startled by the power he saw in Dumbledore's eyes. The lenses must have dimmed the color, because the raw strength of the blue in the headmaster's pupils was enough to shake the stoutest of wizards.

"Is there anything further we need to discuss?" Dumbledore asked calmly.

Gates' posture relaxed but Harry could tell he was not yet fully at ease. "No," he said shortly, and turned. He went back through the door without looking back once.

"The man is volatile," Snape said warningly. "He can't be kept here, headmaster."

Harry glanced back and forth between the two men, trying to interpret what had just occurred. Dumbledore seemed somewhat introspective, and for a long while stared at the glasses in his hand. At that precise moment, Harry felt sure that he could count every wrinkle in the headmaster's face.

"I know, Severus," Dumbledore said at length. He sighed and replaced his spectacles. The blueness of his eyes was once again muted. "I know."

***

It was not until Christmas was two days away when Harry realized that he had not bought Ron or Hermione their gifts.

Normally this would not have been a problem. For Ron he would buy a sack of sweets or a Quidditch magazine subscription and for Hermione he would buy some rare book from a catalog.

However Hermione was no longer simply Hermione. Even he, who still knew little to nothing about girls, knew that it would be tactless to buy her a book. Ordering chocolate from Honeydukes for Ron would be simple enough, but what could he possibly get Hermione? She seemed to defy all traditional stereotypes. She rarely wore jewelry, perfume, or anything else that she deemed unnecessary or bothersome. Unlike Lavender or Padma, Hermione never woke up early to dress herself up for class.

Harry resigned himself to searching through stacks of glossy catalogs from the library in the Gryffindor common room, sighing deeply the entire time. All of them were full of moving pictures of models wearing fashionable robes, scented pictures of flowers and perfumes, and talking pictures that featured jewelry while explaining the various enchantments placed upon them. Nothing looked even remotely like it could be given to Hermione. Finishing yet another one, he tossed it aside, adding it to the unorganized sprawl of magazines that stretched over the library table.

For a moment he considered looking through a book magazine, but he immediately decided against it. While Hermione would likely love a new book, Harry was not sure whether that was the right message. It seemed somehow dry and impersonal.

"Troubles, Potter?" Gates asked from over Harry's shoulder, startling the younger wizard.

"No," Harry muttered, pulling a nearby catalog towards him and flipping it over. Nothing new or refreshing.

Slowly, deliberately, Gates' hand drifted across the table and picked up a discarded magazine. On its cover was a stylishly vapid witch wearing a flowing dress robe complete with matching earrings and a bracelet. The Hit Wizard regarded the picture with a small measure of disgust.

"What is this?" Gates asked slowly.

"A catalog," Harry answered, taking it from Gates' hand. He set it on the far end of the table.

Gates' eyes narrowed. "Obviously. I hardly think I need to mention that these…types of magazines aren't too common among teenage boys."

"I'm going to order something."

The Hit Wizard stared at him with hard eyes for a moment, and, suddenly, a slightly amused, slightly sinister grin crossed his face. It vanished just as quickly as it came.

"Well, then, I wish you luck in your endeavor," Gates said evenly, his voice laced with irony. He turned on one heel and went to the iced-over window on the far side of the common room. Harry stared at his retreating back, skeptical as to whether Gates could fully appreciate the difficulties he was having.

Once Gates was out of sight Harry pushed the magazine away and leaned back in his chair, running his hands through his hair. What did he want to get Hermione that she truly needed? The question was giving him a headache. Rubbing his eyes, the answer suddenly came to him.

"There's one thing that she'll need," he said to himself. "Her especially. Protection."

Well, Potter, said Pseudo-Snape snidely. I didn't think that you and Miss Granger-

Shut up.

Pseudo-Snape's faint laughter echoed through his head.

With a renewed fervor, Harry dived into a stack of catalogs displaying various charmed necklaces and amulets. Pearls were specially made and embedded into gold jewelry to ward off Merpeople and Grindylows. Gemstone necklaces, crafted by hand in Asia, were charmed to give the user immunity against flame. A bracelet studded with small emeralds was advertised to ward off evil entities. Harry continued flipping through the pages. All of the jewelry had one thing in common. Besides being extraordinarily expensive (though that was not even an issue), all of them required a special ministry license in order to be purchased.

He groaned aloud. Another setback. Sighing, he pushed the small stack of magazines he had gathered to the edge of the table. He looked at the considerable pile of catalogs he had so far collected, wondering why this was becoming so arduous.

A tingling in his robe pocket jolted his mind awake from its brief reverie. Hurriedly, he pulled out the ring - Vladimir Gates' ring - and held it in his palm. He could not believe he did not think of it earlier. Why would he need to purchase a defensive talisman when he already owned one? Granted, the Sorting Hate had given him the ring for his own protection, but Hermione needed it more. Harry dreaded the thought of the Death Eater in Hogwarts reaching her-

"Master Potter!" squeaked a voice. Harry whirled around in his seat to see that it was Winky. She was dressed primly in a traditional female house-elf skirt and blouse, and there was an exaggeratedly wide smile on her face. She curtseyed.

"Errr, hi," Harry said tentatively. He was still a little overwhelmed by the strict properness in the entire scene. "Call me Harry." He set the ring on the table.

There was a flash of something in Winky's eyes, but Harry barely registered it, much less understood it. "Thank you Master Harry Potter!" she said in a voice that would be considered high-pitched even for a house-elf. "Dobby knew Winky would be cleaning the Gryffindor's common room and asked her to deliver a message to master Harry Potter."

"Sure. What is it?"

"Dobby asks if you would allow him to serve you dinner tonight," she squeaked. Her eyes were appealingly large.

Harry almost laughed out loud, but he was glad he did not. Winky's expression became gravely serious. "That sounds good," he said. "I'll come down at six o'clock."

"Dobby will be very, very happy!" Winky said. "Winky will tell Dobby as soon as she gets a break, master Harry Potter!" She looked up at him, as though for confirmation.

"That's, errr, fine," said Harry uncertainly.

Winky curtseyed again, and swiftly vanished. The ring - the same ring that Harry had remembered Dumbledore mentioning through the floo connection at Gates manor - laid motionless on the table, nothing betraying its true power.

***

Harry went through the portrait of the fruit bowl at six o'clock sharp, not wanting to inadvertently offend any of the house-elves with tardiness. His precaution was probably needless, but he did it anyway.

He was ushered to a table by a nearby house-elf, and was then given a basket of freshly baked bread and a kettle of hot water for tea, as well as a frosted pitcher of pumpkin juice.

"Harry Potter sir!" Dobby squeaked when he saw Harry sitting at the table. Harry noted that the house-elf was wearing his best pair of clashing socks. "Dobby never would have believed- never would have thought-" He dropped his voice conspiratorially. "Alexander Gates is a bad wizard."

Harry nodded, quite sure that Dobby had no idea how very evil Gates actually was. Wanting to change the sensitive topic, he said, "Thanks for inviting me down here Dobby."

Dobby's eyes went wide, and the surrounding elves politely pretended to be busy cleaning the floor. "A wizard-" he choked. "-a wizard thanking a mere house-elf-"

"It's all right Dobby," Harry said hurriedly, not wanting Dobby to break down. "So, erm, what are we eating?" As soon as the words left his mouth, Harry knew that he had made a mistake.

"We?" Dobby whispered. "Dobby cannot sit to eat with a wizard- as- as an equal."

Harry looked over the small array of house-elves before him. Each of them was staring at him blankly, their mouths slightly agape. Suddenly realizing what they were doing, each of them abruptly went back to working. His first urge was to go on with the meal, but he knew that this was a chance that Hermione would use to promote S.P.E.W.

"Why not?"

From deep within the kitchen, something clattered on the floor.

Breaking this awkward moment, a team of house-elves swept in, carrying a large tray of ham, sweet potatoes, and a wide assortment of various meats and vegetables. They carefully placed the steaming tray on center of the table, quickly setting polished silverware on either side of Harry as well as a cloth napkin. When they were finished, they filled Harry's goblet with pumpkin juice and bowed away.

"I hope Harry Potter enjoys his meal," said Dobby formally. When he made to leave, Harry called him back.

"So, err," Harry tried to think of a way to make conversation. Sitting here, eating by himself, felt awkward to him. "Meet any new house-elves lately?" He knew the question was inane. Hermione had already told them in a Club S.P.E.W. meeting that house-elves never used any time for social interaction.

Dobby shook his head vigorously. "Dobby only knows Winky. No house-elf knows any other house-elf. There's too much work to be done! Hogwarts is a large castle." He shifted his foot uneasily.

"And," Harry began more seriously. "Have you seen anything strange around the castle?"

"Headmaster Dumbledore asked Dobby that same question," Dobby squeaked. "Dobby has seen nothing."

"And you haven't heard anything from the other house-elves?"

Dobby shook his head. "Dobby only talks to Winky, Harry Potter sir, and she never told Dobby anything."

Harry frowned, and, upon seeing that Dobby was becoming uncomfortable, said hesitantly, "Well, it was good talking to you, I guess." He could see the other house-elves staring at Dobby's back nervously.

Dobby beamed at him. "Thank you Harry Potter sir!" And, before Harry could get another word in, Dobby dashed further into the kitchens.

***

The days leading up to Christmas was a long, continuous stretch of boredom, sparsely broken by an Occlumency lesson and a training session. For the most part, Harry stared blankly out the common room windows, watching the white flakes of snow fall to the ground. There was surprisingly little accumulation, however. It seemed that the weather had turned too cold for much precipitation.

Thankfully, the house-elves had erected a larger-than-normal fire in the common room, which helped greatly to counter the chill. Many evenings Harry would sit in one of the overstuffed chairs by the fire, either reading a jinxing book or simply relaxing. He had already placed orders for his friends' gifts, so there was little left for him to do. Gates, however, stayed carefully aloof from the heat. He remained in a shadowy corner by the window, wrapped up in his crimson overcoat, absolutely still and unmoving. The only sign of life was the occasional cloud of heated air rising from the dark silhouette that was his head.

So when Christmas day finally came, Harry was glad for the change.

The wind was horrendous as Harry waited in the great doorway for Ron and Hermione's carriages to pull up to the front of the castle. The air yanked violently at his robes and overcoat, forcing him to wrap them tighter around his body .Through the haze of mixed snow and wind, Harry managed to see the dim outline of a carriage further down the road. He saw the black Thestrals clearly against the white background, and a grim realization of who he was swept over him. Could he ever be normal?

The resounding answer was no, not in the traditional sense. Not after his fourth year.

Gates stood nearby, seemingly unaffected by the strong wind. His scarlet robe swirled wildly in the tumultuous winds, but he seemed not to notice or care. His face, which had always been sharp and militant, had turned even more stony in the face of the freezing weather. His teeth were bared and clenched, apparently to keep them from chattering, and he held his wand firmly in his right hand. He peered intensely through the white blur of snow.

Squinting, Harry saw the carriage pull up before the short stairway that led up to the main doorway where he was waiting. Raising his arm to ward off the stinging bits of snow, he climbed down the steps and came up to the carriage door. It swung open and Ron leapt out, grinning from ear to ear, wearing what evidently was a hand-knit coat.

"Hey mate!" exclaimed Ron, reaching out to clap his hand on Harry's back. His voice took on a more serious tone. "Dad told me what happened, and I just want to say I'm never going to leave you like that again."

The conviction in Ron's voice sent off an alarm in Harry's head. "Don't say that," he said quickly. "You shouldn't promise me that."

Before Ron could respond, Harry walked over to the carriage and helped Hermione step out. She wore a thick, fluffy scarf and coat, complete with one of her knitted hates, which concealed everything except her eyes. Despite this, he knew she was smiling.

"Hi," Harry said. Then, turning to Ron, he added, "Let's get inside."

After they put away their coats and scarves, they took the three closest seats around the fire in the Gryffindor common room, trying to warm up. The heat was delicious after the biting cold, and Harry was sure that even Gates had moved imperceptibly closer to the fire. Mechanically, Harry began relating to them his holiday at Gates manor, skipping a few details, downplaying some events, but otherwise giving them the full story. At length he finished.

"That's horrible," Hermione murmured. Ron's disbelieving expression wordlessly told him the same.

"You did that to Rookwood?" Ron managed, his mouth slightly agape. "That guy was a killer. I mean, they all are, but blimey."

Hermione's expression told Harry they she was thinking along to same lines as Ron, and she gazed steadily at him, as though waiting for him to speak.

None of them spoke, but Harry was aware of the tension between them, and he felt Ron and Hermione's expectant gaze on him. The firelight played across their faces, and, in Hermione's case, highlighter her hair, turning its color into some exotic mix of gold, amber, and red. The only sound was the crackling of the fire.

"So," Ron began. "Dad was telling me about how the ministry had to send a crew of wizards to your house." At Harry's non-response, he continued. "He said that one of the muggles - the doctor one, I think they called him - was obliviated so badly that they couldn't reverse it. They had to send him to some muggle hospital. A half-way house, whatever that is."

More silence.

"Why'd you tell me to leave?" Hermione asked suddenly.

"We couldn't have fought them off," said Harry distantly. "Not alone. One of us should've been able to get away."

"And that one had to be you?"

Harry did not respond for a long time. "Yes," he said at length.

"What makes you say that!" Hermione said loudly. Harry instinctively jerked in her direction. blinking. He was not sure of the last time Hermione lost her temper, but she seemed close to it now.

Seeing the uncomfortable tension between them, Ron said, "We'll be there for you, whether you like it or not."

That's the one trait that kept Slytherin from becoming truly great, said Pseudo-Snape. Greater than it already is, I mean. Loyalty to something other than self-interest.

Harry smiled faintly. "Thanks, but don't." Before either of them could open their mouths to argue, he added, "Let's open presents."

"Sounds good to me!" Ron said vehemently, and then moved closer to the small stack of presents that were laid out on the couch.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, seeing as your mind is already made up-"

"This one's for you, Harry!" Ron interjected, tossing a small, red-wrapped gift to Harry. Eventually, he separated the presents into three separate piles. Harry made sure that his personal gift to Hermione - the warding ring - was not in her pile. He would give it to her later.

"Mom and dad wanted to come," continued Ron as he unwrapped his first gift. "But Dumbledore said only use two could come. He said that, like it or not, the Weasleys' and the Grangers' are targets, and to have all of us in one place would be a bad idea." Tearing the last piece of paper from the package, he found that it was a large parcel of chocolate and sweets from Honeydukes. "Thanks Harry!"

Something clicked in Harry's brain. "Hermione, your parents weren't, errr, panicking when they realized that you weren't there when they came to pick you up over the holidays."

"Well, when I came back to Hogwarts with the portkey, the first person I ran into was Gates, and he immediately ran off Hogwarts grounds until he was outside apparition-"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Ron said through a mouthful of chocolate.

"I'm getting there," said Hermione with infinite patience. "Now, Gates ran off Hogwarts grounds until he was outside of anti-apparition wards, and then apparated to Pivet Drive - outside of the wards that surround your home. He then went in normal means, or so I gather from Dumbledore. Anyway, I ran into Professor Dumbledore in the Great Hall, and together we went back to Pivet Drive, but you had already left with Gates."

"Wait- Dumbledore took you back there?" Harry asked sharply. Old ashes stirred.

"Well, he didn't have much choice in the matter," she said airily. "When my Mom and Dad got there, Dumbledore decided to take us all back to Hogwarts temporarily as a precaution. Of course, the car was a little tricky, but he managed it. We all ended up quite all right."

Hermione picked up her parcels and very carefully unwrapped them, making sure she did not tear at any of the paper. She thanked Ron for his gift of a homework planner (which Harry was pretty sure was the same one she gave him last year) along with a bag of sugarless candy, and when she came to Harry's gift, which was a book on Year Seven spells, she momentarily paused. A second later, she glanced up at Harry, understanding in her eyes, then said, "Thank you."

Harry nodded.

Nearby, Ron tore through his second present, the wrapping paper flying all over the ground. Within it was a scroll that announced a year subscription to Quidditch Weekly. The wide grin that spread across his face proclaimed his pleasure.

"I decided that if you weren't going to read your textbooks, you might as well read something," Hermione said, sounding amused.

"Thanks," Ron said, flipping through the very first issue that the scroll had enclosed.

"What about you Harry?" Hermione asked, gesturing to Harry's large, untouched pile.

For a moment Harry's mind remained blank, but, coming out of his reverie, he stooped down and opened his gifts, tossing the paper to the side. From Ron he got a box of sweets from Hogsmeade, from Moody a wand grip that prevented his hand from burning during prolonged duels, and from Lupin a repaired version of Sirius' pocketknife, which Harry had thought he had destroyed in the Department of Mysteries. The blade was replaced, and an attached note encouraged Harry to owl Lupin at any - and any was emphasized - time. Next, he received a butterbeer-cap bracelet from Luna (which looked strangely like its necklace counterpart), and Tonks took it upon herself to repair his Firebolt. He had also received the usual sweater from the Weasley's. At last there was a lone package at his feet. Hermione's.

He picked it up, and, without any hesitation, opened it. It was A Guide to Concentration and Focus, by someone named Peter Lindern. "Thanks," Harry said, meaning it.

"I thought you could use it during your sessions," she replied, a look in her eyes which told Harry that she had a plan similar to his own.

"Right then," Ron said, missing the exchange. He got to his feet. "So-"

"Aren't you forgetting one?" Hermione asked innocently. Surely enough, laying next to Ron's right foot was a small, blue box.

Ron's ears went very red. "Must've missed that one," he mumbled. Slowly, he stooped down and lifted it with his hands. He looked ready to dash from the room at any second.

"Well? What is it?" Harry added. "Who's it from?"

Ron opened it up and, after he timidly reached into it, withdrew a bizarre contraption that looked somewhat like a pair of dentures. Ron stared at them, bewildered. Suddenly, it began to speak.

"Merry Christmas Ronald Weasley!" said the teeth dreamily. It was an exact replication of Luna's voice. It was incredibly strange, as the voice had no apparent origin. "I hope you are enjoying your holiday. Unfortunately, daddy and I are in Norway in search of Snackles - they only come out in the winter, you know - so I'm afraid I am unable to join you, Harry, and Hermione for Christmas. Enjoy your gift. It's a pair of Chattering Teeth, and it's enchanted to talk freely in any conversations it overhears, or at least when it wants to. You can take it wherever you want, and we will be able to talk, in a fashion. Daddy said the charm was experimental, so I hope it doesn't accidentally go haywire and kill you. Some of the other versions have proven to be rather dangerous. I'll see you soon."

Well, this is what you get for being the Boy-Who-Lived, Pseudo-Snape said with a masterful hint of sarcasm. Nothing is normal, and the holidays prove to be no exception.

When the teeth finished reciting its message, Ron's mouth dropped open in horror, his eyes blinking rapidly and quite wide. His neck, ears, and face were all beet red, and Harry guessed that he was warmer than the nearby fire. Hermione was blinking rapidly, though in interest or shock, Harry could not tell. Suddenly the teeth sitting on the table appeared to be very sharp.

"She's completely insane," Ron said with conviction.

"I suppose she was exaggerating with the killing part," said Hermione reassuringly, seeming to have recovered her senses. "It might not even work. This is the girl that believes in nargles for goodness sake."

"I better hide it somewhere," Ron said. "Just in case."

"I think that's a good idea," added Harry.

Slowly, as though he was holding a bomb, Ron set it down on the floor. When nothing seemed to happen, he breathed a sigh of relief. "I'll just leave it there until...uhhh..." He paused for a moment in thought. "You wouldn't suppose the house-elves would mind taking it away?"

"You will not have a house-elf carry a dangerous and potentially lethal artifact," Hermione said flatly.

"We might be overreacting," Harry said calmly. "Luna wouldn't send Ron anything that was really dangerous. Would she?"

No one answered. The Chattering Teeth remained motionless on the carpeted floor.

"Now what is this?" asked Gates rhetorically, very purposely and deliberately winding through the sprawl of upholstered and overstuffed chairs that surrounded the common room fireplace. When he came before the Chattering Teeth he stood there for a long time. "Chattering Teeth, she called it? I'm sorry, I could not help but overhear." His tone did not match his words. It was sarcastic.

"I bet," Ron muttered.

Gates ignored Ron's comment. Instead he crouched to get a better look at the anomaly. "What would her intentions be in giving this away, do you suppose?" He prodded it with his wand with no visible effect. "I overheard the word dangerous," he said flatly.

"I'm sure Luna's intentions were good," Hermione said evenly.

Gates looked up at her, his gaze rather cold and distant. "You know what they say about good intentions, don't you?" he asked steadily. "The road to hell is paved with-"

"-self-interest and greed, Mr. Gates," said the Chattering Teeth in Luna's ethereal voice, startling both the Hit Wizard and Harry. Gates whirled around, wand drawn, until his shoulders slackened and he glared down at the teeth. His anger slowly turned to an expression of cool appraisal, as though he was sizing up the teeth.

Pseudo-Snape snorted. Quite a defiant set of teeth, aren't they?

"I've never seen anything like it," Gates said at length. He straightened, very carefully straightening his robes as he did so.

"That was very clever of Luna," Hermione added, looking rather impressed. "You are going to keep it in a safe place, right Ron?"

Ron looked at her as if she had lost her mind. "Keep it in a safe place?" he echoed. "We should be worrying about putting it in a place that will keep us safe. Who knows what this thing Luna sent me could do-"

"Refrain from using it clumsily and all of you will retain your limbs," interjected Gates. "Though should this…artifact go berserk, it will probably make task much easier."

"Mr. Gates is quite correct in the former," said the Chattering Teeth. Hearing Luna's disembodied voice coming from it was becoming rather eerie. "The enchantments are only dangerous to Snockle-Locks, and they don't live near Hogwarts."

"Well that's real reassuring!" Ron said loudly. The teeth did not respond. "This is ridiculous. I'm- I'm going to put them away and then I can forget about them. Okay?"

Before anyone could respond, he marched up into the boy's dormitories, leaving Harry and Hermione looking awkwardly at one another. Gates, who had apparently lost interest wandered towards the fire, where he stared deeply into it as if waiting for someone's head to appear via the floo network.

When Ron finally came back down, he held an empty pillowcase in his right hand and wore a thick, clumsy dragonhide gauntlet on his left, the likes of which they would use to handle elder Blast-Ended Skrewts in Care of Magical Creatures. With a look of grim determination, he grasped the Chattering Teeth and shoved them roughly into the pillowcase. The teeth did not protest. He wrapped it up and thrust the parcel under his arm.

"Well that's that," he said with finality. "Don't need any of that nonsense - dangerous nonsense, mind you - laying around the common room." He turned on one heel and purposefully strode back up into the dormitories, loudly rambling about something, though Harry was not really paying attention.

"Well, that went well," Hermione said.

Harry looked at her, unable to detect any trace of sarcasm on her features. "Huh?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and then sighed. "Notice that, while he went on and on about how dangerous Luna's gift could potentially be, he did not at one time suggest throwing it out."

Harry did not understand. "What do you suppose it means?" he asked.

Hermione laughed, or gave the appearance of laughing. Her smile was so ambiguous that Harry could not tell. She could have been laughing so softly that his ears had not caught it. "He was putting on a show for us, you see? He didn't want us to get the idea that he might like Luna."

Harry was not sure that he understood. "Uhh, why?"

The Potter disorder strikes again, Pseudo-Snape said. Doesn't miss a single generation.

"Because he would be embarrassed," Hermione said as if this was something that should be obvious to him.

Now that Harry had re-analyzed the situation, he was definitely able to relate to Ron's predicament. He remembered wanting to keep his first kiss with Cho a secret up until the day he died. Of course, it did not work out that way, but he understood anyway.

Presently, Ron had returned from the boy's dormitories, his hands in his pockets and steadfastly avoiding Harry and Hermione's eyes. His ears had taken on a pinkish tone. Harry was surprised that he had not noticed it before.

"So, err," Ron stood there awkwardly. "I'm going to get something to eat? You two want anything?"

They both shook their heads.

"Right, then," continued Ron, toying with the fringe of his robes. "I'm going to go down to the kitchens, you know, for food. I'll be back in a few minutes."

After standing there silently for some time, he hurriedly left the common room.

As soon as he had gone through the portrait hole, Hermione had got up from her chair, walked over, and tenderly placed her hand on Harry's shoulder. Gently, she withdrew a small package from her robes and placed it on his lap. It was slightly heavy, and when Harry looked up at her, he saw that her eyes had a wet sheen.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked concernedly.

Hermione just smiled. "Just open it. Merry Christmas."

Adjusting himself in the seat so that Gates could not see, he tentatively began unwrapping the dark green paper, taking his time, eager and at the same time nervous to see what was inside. All the while Hermione spoke, though Harry only managed to catch a few of her words through her breathless pace.

"-I wasn't sure at first whether to make this for you, as it's very personal and I wasn't sure if I was overstepping my bounds or not-"

Harry unraveled the paper to find an unadorned book with an intricate gold border on the cover. On it, faded, was a name Harry dared not whisper aloud.

"-didn't want to give it to you in front of Ron. I wasn't sure how you'd take it and besides if he saw me giving this to you he might become rather..." her voice trailed off uncertainly.

With even more caution, Harry opened the book to the first page, and what he saw made his eyes burn. Sirius with Harry at Grimmauld Place during Christmas beneath an archway festooned with garland. Little silver bells were worked in at random.

Hermione, who took Harry's silence for displeasure, continued at an even more hurried speed. "I'm so sorry I knew I shouldn't have done that after what happened. I know how much he meant to you and I didn't think I should've been the one to prepare it for you and-"

"Hermione," Harry whispered, gently taking her arm. "Thank you." He turned the page. More pictures of him with Sirius. An entire album. The very thought put a lump in his throat. Despite himself, he remembered the other album of his parents, and what might have or might not have become of it.

It vividly reminded him of Hagrid's gift in his first year, and this one felt just as poignant. It was no substitute for his godfather. Nothing ever could be. It was, however, a partial recovery of something lost, a memory preserved in photograph form, ensuring that nothing could be forgotten. Just like his parents, Sirius was prematurely torn from him, and this collection of photos eased that void.

He suddenly felt very foolish, sitting there, while Hermione had not yet received her gift. Carefully and reverently placing the book aside, he took out the small bronze ring and placed it in her hand. Hermione's eyes turned into saucers.

"Harry," she said in a trembling voice. "I don't know what to say-"

With the force of a mallet, the full implications of this scene struck Harry. He, a boy, was giving a ring to her, a girl. To an ignorant bystander, it would look like he was proposing marriage. Pseudo-Snape's faint laughter echoed throughout his skull.

Harry blushed deeply all the way, he was sure, to his collar. "No, I don't mean in that way, it's-" All of his pre-planned words escaped him, and he began to feel stupid. "It's an enchanted ring for your protection. A talisman."

She made a sound like an "oh," and she relaxed a little, her eyes going back to Harry. Her gaze was both steady and gentle, and Harry felt the old sense of attachment again. She was supposed to be here just like he was supposed to be here. That was the only way he could explain how he was feeling.

"It heats up when it senses the presence of someone untrustworthy," Harry continued, blushing more as she watched him. "And if anyone physically attacks you, it'll burn them. When-" Suddenly he found himself enveloped in a tight hug and was lightly kissed. He felt slightly dazed.

"Thank you," she said softly. "But don't think I'm vulnerable. Don't push me- don't push me and Ron away." Her eyes appealed to him deeply.

Hermione's words had struck the weakness in Harry's core; the fact that Voldemort was a real and close threat to himself, Hermione, and Ron. The attacks were proof enough of that.

If they knew of the prophecy, they would become targets as well. Anyone who possessed the fatal knowledge of the prophecy was marked, and the fewer who had it the better. Never would he allow himself to unburden his load on Hermione and Ron. Never.

How very Gryffindor of you, Pseudo-Snape said disdainfully.

She remained silent for a while and then asked quietly, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Harry said. "Nothing at all." Though, he knew, that was very much a lie, and this made him hate Occlumency more. The dusty orb from the Department of Mysteries was not a talisman, but it burned in his mind all the same.

***

The Christmas holidays soon ended, and eventually Hogwarts returned to having a vague semblance of normality. A few students, namely those from Hufflepuff, were absent, and it was apparent that their parents had decided to keep them out of school since the second rising of Voldemort. Harry, however, felt that there was no safer place than Hogwarts. Vigilant Aurors in ministry robes patrolled the drafty stone corridors, peering into dark corners. Security had become far more strict since before the holidays, and Harry strongly suspected that it had something to do with Madam Bones' appointment.

Harry began receiving weekly owls from Lupin, some of them asking for his welfare, others simply informing him of their progress (with no specifics, obviously, but instead generalities on their progress) in fighting against Voldemort. Harry appreciated them greatly, as he now had someone he could easily turn to for guidance or help. In his letters, Lupin always urged him to be cautious and to never travel the castle's halls alone. Harry had no intentions of going against what apparently was very sound advice.

His professors had also decided to bombard him with a fresh wave of spells and charms, overwhelming him and leading to many late nights full of practice. They apparently wanted to keep them so far buried in their work that they could not have any free time to dwell on the quiet, sporadic Death Eater movements across Britain. The Daily Prophet reported muggles vanishing from their homes and reappearing days later in the very same home, dead and grotesquely broken.

The recent news had also lead to another unfortunate but not unexpected change: his sessions with Gates had become more frequent. Snape, who now prepared beforehand a chair for himself to sit in, watched from a far corner, his arms crossed and eyes narrowed. Harry had not confronted the Potions master with the fact that he was not under the orders of Dumbledore, and decided it would be best if he did not look a gift horse in the mouth. With Snape's presence, Gates' sessions became slightly less intense, and much less unpredictable. Needless to say, Harry was no longer forced to attempt illegal spells or subjugated to manifestations of his worst enemies.

To Harry's surprise, he was actually becoming better at dodging curses and firing counterattacks in a duel environment, and even Gates was having trouble finding details to criticize. Instead, the Hit Wizard merely grunted and moved on to another, often far more advanced curse. At the end of each session, Harry had to duel with a faceless Death Eater (another illusion similar to the previous Bellatrix doppelganger), and, depending on his performance, Gates would either curtly nod or stare at him with a flare of flame in his eyes. The responses were easily interpretable.

His Occlumency lessons with Snape were advancing quickly, and the Potions master, who evidently rethought his previous declaration, restarted Harry's secondary training: Dark Mark reversal, as he learned it was called. Snape's temper was considerably shortened during these lessons, and it seemed like he was trying to force the talent into Harry with bland repetition. It seemed to have worked, however, as Harry experienced significantly more control, and he did not have any anomalous glimpses into a rogue Death Eater's mind.

Only one question plagued him: if Snape and him shared the Occlumensia Anomaly, should not Voldemort and him share it also? When he asked the Potions master this, Snape stared at him blandly and answered, "I believe that's why they call it an anomaly, Potter. No one knows why it occurs in some situations and not in others."

The Dueling contest steadily narrowed itself down to fewer and fewer candidates as the weeks passed. Students were called out of their classes to participate in their duels, and the tension rose as the number of members decreased. Houses Slytherin and Gryffindor dominated the duels, with Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff trickling to barely more than a handful of contestants.

Harry, Hermione, and Malfoy had all survived so far, though Harry strongly suspected foul play on the part of the Slytherin. Malfoy's opponents conspicuously came down with strange illnesses the evening before the duel and were in poor shape when the time came to go to the Great Hall and battle. According to school gossip, when Professor McGonagall spoke to Professor Snape about the bizarre string of coincidences, the Head of Slytherin curtly replied that he was responsible for ensuring that no wrongdoing occurred within his own house.

It came as no surprise when Professor McGonagall approached him after Transfiguration class and asked whether he had been training in preparation for his upcoming duel. When Harry answered positively, she continued, "Good. I believe you are Gryffindor's strongest candidate for winning this tournament-"

"Hermione knows loads more spells than I do," Harry interjected, feeling himself blush from his professor's unexpected praise.

Professor McGonagall looked at him as though not quite understanding what he was saying. "It is true that Miss Granger is one of the best witches to pass through Hogwarts in many, many years, but your dueling technique surpasses hers in every category. This is one of the reasons why I believe you would make an excellent Auror, should you choose that career path." Harry thought he saw the briefest of smiles cross her features, but before he could confirm it, it was already gone. Her serious expression returned.

"Thanks," Harry said, unsure of what else to say.

"And watch what you eat, and what you do," continued Professor McGonagall briskly. "It seems that several Gryffindor students have been coming down with a mysterious sickness over the past few weeks the day before their duel. It would be unfortunate if you shared a similar fate. Don't worry overmuch, however, as my colleague-" Harry was very aware of Professor McGonagall's use of the singular with the word 'colleague,' and he sensed that she was hard pressed to keep all traces of bitterness out of her voice. "-assures me that it is being looked into."

"Alright," Harry said.

Professor McGonagall nodded shortly. "Good. Then go to your next class." As Harry turned to leave, she added, "And good luck at your duel."

So far Harry had beaten two Hufflepuffs, three Ravenclaws, two Slytherins, and two Gryffindors. His most recent opponent, a fifth year named Peter Colin from Ravenclaw, proved to be a challenging adversary, and while Harry eventually one, he had two close calls where he had almost been struck by a body binding curse. The number of participants was slowly dwindling as more duels occurred, and Harry knew that the time where he would have to face Malfoy was coming soon. Draco had totally decimated his opponents, sometimes adding unnecessarily potent curses when the duel was obviously over. A few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs privately told Harry that they were rooting for him.

It was mid-March and Harry sat with a bored expression on his face in Potions, idly grinding bits of limestone into a fine powder with a pestle, trying not to fall asleep as Snape lectured them on various ingredients to the Lifting Potion and their respective properties.

"I trust that you are all thoroughly crushing your limestone," said Snape from across the room. "Having lumps in your limestone powder will result in rather grotesque results when the Lifting Potion is drunk. As you all will be giving a sample of your potion to a cat, I suggest you all work diligently, unless you wish to scrubbing the classroom walls from an explosion caused by an ineptly brewed solution."

"Harry," Hermione whispered. "Don't let up. It's going to take at least another ten minutes for you to crush your limestone down into a flour-like powder!"

Harry looked down and realized that at some point he had stopped working. Quietly thanking her, he resumed the uneventful task of crushing rocks, wondering when the period would end.

A brief respite came in the form of a large barn owl tumbling through the open classroom door, landing heavily on Snape's desk, almost knocking over a set of glass vials that teetered dangerously on the edge. In its right claw it clutched a thick, tightly-bound scroll, and its yellow eyes gazed patiently at the Potions master, waiting for Snape to accept the message. Snape, who had been staring disbelievingly at the bird for some time, snapped out of his reverie and strode to his desk, his eyes narrowed and his lip curling.

"Who dares to interrupt my classroom with an owl?" Snape said softly, venomously. He snatched the scroll away from the owl, causing it to jump, and briskly unraveled it. The owl hooted indignantly and flew away, making a point to scatter a stack of papers on Snape's desk with his wings before he left. Snape hardly noticed. All of his attention was now focused on the scroll in his hands.

His face was stark white, and a sneer began to form even as he read the message. While most of the class politely pretended not to notice their professor's plight, many already watched open-mouthed as a variety of expressions crossed Snape's face. His lips began to tremble, and he muttered, "The nerve of that werewolf!"

Harry's interest peaked, and he tried to maneuver into a better position. Whatever was in that note, it seemed clear that it had come from Remus. Snarling, Snape tore the scroll in half and threw it into the garbage.

Snape continued to mutter, even as he returned to inspecting their work. "Presumptuous, insulting werewolf."

I'm forgetting 'ignorant,' Pseudo-Snape said blandly.

"Ignorant-" the real Snape muttered loudly. Harry had to stifle a laugh at the correlation.

When Snape passed by his desk, Harry paused for a moment to rub his now-cramped hands. As he did so, his eyes fell upon the trash bin, and he wondered vaguely what Snape had read that had made him so upset. His brief exchange with Lupin at the Dursley's about Snape came back into his mind, and he wondered if the message had anything to do with that.

"Too coarse," Snape said from over his shoulder. Evidently the Potions master had doubled-back at some point. "Grind."

Following that one word command, Harry picked up his pestle and returned to smashing the limestone into a fine powder. When the bell rang, Snape stood before the class and said, "If you have not crushed your limestone into an acceptable form, you are to do so tonight. I will expect everyone to be ready for tomorrow. Dismissed."

Harry and Hermione met Ron at the spiral stone stairwell, and he excitedly began talking about what had been announced.

"They're down the last four contestants," said Ron, walking backwards so that he could face them both as they walked up the narrow stairwell. "Both of you are in it, of course, but so is Terry Boot and Draco Malfoy."

A chill ran down Harry's spine. What if, by some sort of design, Harry was paired with Hermione? He was not sure what he would do.

"Anyway," Ron continued. "They're going to begin tournament dueling. So now everyone's going to-"

"Tournament dueling?"

"Yeah, the rules are different for tournament dueling," said Ron. "Since there are so few people left, now the remaining duels will be viewed by the entire school. Plus, it won't be about who wins anymore."

Harry stared at him uncomprehendingly. "If it's not about who wins..." In the back of his mind, he realized that this was what Malfoy was waiting for. He would almost certainly be dueling Malfoy before the entire school within the week.

"After a duel is ended, the judges give each dueler a score out of ten," explained Ron. "I think the judges will be the heads from each of the houses. Anyway, whoever gets the better score wins. Like how they did it in the Triwizard Tournament," he added.

"So you're saying that even if I knock Malfoy out of the circle, he could still potentially win?" Harry asked incredulously.

"That's right," Ron affirmed. "But it almost never happens that way. The scoring is just there in case there is a strong suspicion of foul play, so that the judges can overturn a victory if they believe the winner cheated."

And to give the wealthy wizards someone to bribe, added Pseudo-Snape.

Harry looked dubiously at Hermione, who nodded. "I think he's right, Harry," she said. "I began reading about it last week in preparation for these duels."

"Of course I'm right," Ron said proudly. "So let's see who you guys will be facing..."

"No need for that," Harry muttered under his breath. "It's going to be Malfoy." Ron, however, did not hear him.

They came to the large, vibrantly green Slytherin poster on the wall in the Great Hall, the long serpents slithering along the border, their eyes peering sightlessly from the parchment. Harry looked down the very short list (only two duels, obviously), and what he saw made him angry. No, that was not right. It made him furious.

Duels:

Harry Potter versus Terry Boot

Draco Malfoy versus Hermione Granger

"He set that up," said Harry hotly. "That bastard."

He glanced at Hermione. She had not yet moved. At length she nodded and then turned to him, a faint smile on her lips. "I can't say this is surprising."

A familiar, drawling voice called out from behind them. Harry whirled around, his temper flaring, ready to punch the ferret if he was within arms length. To his dismay, Draco Malfoy was standing several meters way, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, and within full view of the professors sitting at the raised staff table. A nearby Auror turned curiously in their direction.

"Well, you remember what I said, don't you?" Malfoy drawled tonelessly, idly examining his fingernails in a fashion that screamed aristocrat. "On the train in our fourth year. Mudbloods and muggle-lovers first. Then I'll deal with you, because I know for a fact that you are no lover of muggles, are you Potter?" With one last smirk, he turned and strode away.

(A/N: Yes, I realize it was a bit slow at parts, but it was necessary, as you'll later see! Next chapter is a lot better, I promise. Not too much more to mention.

Next Chapter: Harry's overprotectiveness of Hermione goes into overdrive, and Gates makes an offer that leads to a bit of embarrassment. One of the the so-called 'bad guys' gets their just desserts, and we learn a great deal about what is exactly going on, presuming you read between the lines!