The Girl in the Tower

Part 1: Coming of Age

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Chapter One: Harry Falls in Love



~



There was a small part of the roof that was covered, right near the doors to her rooms, and Sara sheltered there as the rain began. She held the Marauder's Map in one trembling hand, all but forgotten, and a half-empty glass of wine in the other. She slid down the wall until she found the floor, not bothering to wipe away her tears. Taking a sip of her drink, Sara wondered why she tormented herself every night, playing her mother's old music recordings, crying away the dark, lonely hours. But tonight was special, the six month anniversary of her parent's death. Sara cried harder, and the rain came down in torrents.



She knew she'd had too much to drink and should go to sleep, but she feared the dark and the haunting figure that came to her with the shadows. It was worth staying up until dawn, she thought, if it would keep it away. There were spells cast, of course, but there's a way around almost everything. She didn't feel safe. It would come in eventually; not just hover outside the doors, and it was this she feared the most.



Sara felt vulnerable, hidden away in her tower, alone and without the benefit of self-defense. She missed her life. She and her mother had been powerful witches, her father a more ordinary wizard and also a gifted clairvoyant, as Sara herself was. He always said it was his Gypsy blood, and the thought of him brought a tearful smile.



The three of them had lived together disguised as Muggles in a fancy house in Manhattan’s Upper East Side, the very core of the modern world. She missed her many friends and all the fun they'd had, but all of that was over now. Her parents were gone and she had been torn from her life, only to experience the loneliness of solidarity, cowering in a tower in England. Hidden from the dark wizard who sought her for the destruction of which she was capable.



In her grief, Sara threw her glass at the wall where it shattered. She cursed her powers and the misery they'd brought her. She cursed herself for being what she was.



With a glance at the Marauder's Map, Sara’s thoughts turned to the boy she'd been watching since she'd arrived in October. The one she'd heard so much about.



Harry Potter had only just been born when his parents helped hers escape to the United States during the Dark times and Sara was born just after they’d arrived there. It was only a year later when the Potter's had met their fate. Sara felt close to Harry, even though they had never met, but she meant to change that soon. Only he would understand this deep sadness. Only he could protect her from the darkness.



It was after hours at Hogwarts and all the students should have been asleep in their beds, but the map told Sara that Harry was out at Hagrid's cabin, probably waiting for the rain to stop. She whispered as she watched him wait and did her best to stop crying. "I'll try, Harry."



The harder she tried, the faster the tears fell, and the rain kept coming down.



As Sara watched, the words ‘Harry Potter’ hurried across the grounds. He'd made a break for it in the pouring rain. Another name was traveling, that of the caretaker, Filch, and Sara saw he and Harry were on a collision course. She had to act fast, for even if Harry was able to hide, he would leave a telltale trail of puddles behind him. And she would be to blame.



Sara landed on running feet, trying not to stumble on the long, winding stair, and wished she'd drank less wine that evening.



She was soon passing the hidden entrance to Gryffindor Tower, then managed another staircase and ran full out down the hall. A quick check of the map told her that Harry was inside and about to enter this very corridor, but Filch was only a few minutes from finding Harry's water trail, and Harry’s pace was lackluster at best.



* * *



Harry couldn't believe his rotten luck. He'd gotten himself drenched sprinting back in the nightly torrential rain. He'd waited a good long time for it to let up and now it stopped just as it had started. All of a sudden. His invisibility cloak was worthless if he was leaving wet footprints all the way to his bed. He'd be in trouble for sure, come morning.



As he considered what he could say in his defense, Harry rounded a corner and was flying backward as if he'd been hit by a speeding train. He rolled once and sat upright, losing his cloak and trying to catch his breath. Harry rubbed his elbow, winced and then straightened his glasses. To his surprise, a girl was sprawled on the floor across from him. She sat up and met his eyes with a warm, curious smile.



Harry found himself struggling for something to say. He just stared at her. He thought she was stunning. Long, platinum hair, with a black streak on one side that fell into curls around her waist, the bluest violet eyes, and soft, fine features. Her skin looked like silk and was free of the common flaws of adolescence, though he didn't think she was any older than he was.



Her clothes reminded him of the Gypsies of old and were not that of a student. She was barefoot. She wore no robe, and she'd recently been crying.



Harry stuttered an apology. "I...I'm sorry!"



"It was my fault. Come quickly! Filch is about to turn the corner and you're dripping all over the floor! Hurry!"



Harry grabbed his wet invisibility cloak and asked no questions. The strange and beautiful girl took his hand and pulled him along, as fast as she could run. Harry slowed as they neared the portrait of the fat lady in the pink dress, thinking he would be safest in his dorm, but she gave his hand a tug and led him through the darkness.



"This way!"



* * *



Once inside the base of the vacant Northeast Tower, the girl fell back against the door to catch her breath.



Harry noticed the folded parchment she held. "You've got the Marauder's Map. It was mine once, you know."



"I'd been told as much. Confiscated after a bit of mischief, or so I heard." She held out her hand for Harry to shake. "I'm Sara, by the way."



“You heard correct.� Harry shook, thinking how soft her hand was against his, a little roughened from gripping his Quidditch broom. He let her hand slip away. "I’m Harry Potter." He expected the same reaction he got whenever he gave his name, but to his surprise, she showed no sign of amazement.



"It's nice to meet you, Harry." She led him to the stairs, where they sat a moment on the cold stone. "I've heard a lot about you, you know."



Harry smiled a little, hoping none of it was unfavorable.



"I've recently lost my parents, too. The same way it seems. At least that's what my uncle thinks." Sara lowered her eyes before looking back at him. "Our parents were friends, Harry, with a common enemy."



"We all have a common enemy."



She gave a weak smile, and then looked suddenly alarmed. "Well look at you! You're soaked! You'll be sick before you know it. Come to my room. I've got just the thing."



"I really should get back."



Sara grinned. "Would you really deny me a little conversation? I rescued you, after all. You owe me!"



"Well, um, no. Of course not!"



"Alright then. To the top we go."



Sara stood and offered him a hand up. As he took it, Harry thought she must be able to see his heart pounding. He was convinced it was trying to break straight through and land on the floor at her feet. He was sure that his entire chest must be moving with every beat. It had to be visible, but Sara didn’t seem to notice. She was looking right at his glasses as he rose from the step, still holding his hand, which she forgot to let go.



She was several inches shorter than he was, but he was also wearing the required shoes. Harry couldn't ever remember noticing a person's feet before, but hers were exquisite. In fact, everything about her was exquisite. Girls who looked like Sara never asked him to talk with them. They never asked him anything. On second thought, there were no girls at Hogwarts half as beautiful, but the prettiest ones ignored him. Yet here was this girl, who put Veela to shame, who didn’t seem to mind that he was still holding her hand. Harry's heart continued to hammer away in his chest.



As they ascended the tower stair, he told her about his years at Hogwarts, rattled off a list of classes he was taking, and mentioned Ron and Hermione here and there, too. Sara talked about life in Manhattan, but eluded most of his questions with finesse. She had an easy, musical laugh, which Harry liked, and a way of looking at him that made Harry want to melt into a puddle at her feet. She was so casual, like they were old friends, and he began to relax. In fact, it was impossible not to. Sara made him feel like he'd known her for an eternity.



Conversation gave way to silence as they approached the door at the top, which she stopped at and opened.



Her "room" turned out to be full living quarters with a very cozy parlor, decorated in deep, regal velvet. They walked next into a large chamber that held an elaborate bed, draped with purple silk and trimmed with gold. There was a rug over most of the marble, which gleamed in the light of the fire. The far wall was lined with four sets of French doors, open to receive the gentle night breeze. Billowy curtains of lavender and white floated and swirled. Beyond them was an immense, walled rooftop. Harry began to get nervous.



Harry looked around at the lavish rooms, decorated with such taste and expense.

"Who are you, really?"



"Sara Lemke. Master Diviner and maniac tower dweller."



Harry smiled at her jest. "Are you a teacher or something?"



"I'm only sixteen, same as you. How could I be a teacher?"



"You're definitely not a student."



"No. Not a student." A refugee, she thought. A prisoner.



"Then how do you come to be here? And how did you get this room? I don’t understand."



"Uncle Albus. He sent Severus to bring me back here. No one knows, Harry. No one except you."



"Dumbledore is your uncle?"



"Yes, my great, great uncle, on my mother's side."



"And he thinks you're in danger?"



"Perhaps. Better to be safe, I guess."



"Was it, you know." He lowered his voice. "Voldemort?"



"No one knows for certain." Sara turned away, and then looked at Harry again. He could see the start of tears in her eyes and thought he'd better not ask any more questions.



Thunder rumbled in the distance. More rain, he thought, great.



"Give me your cloak. I'll dry it by the fire."



Harry handed her the dripping garment. Sara hung it from a rack she'd brought over, draped a light blanket around his shoulders, and then poured them both a drink. Harry was shocked to see it was from a bottle of white wine. They weren't allowed spirits at Hogwarts, either. He took the glass anyway and tasted it. It was dry, but he liked its smooth, bittersweet taste.



"It's a German Riesling. I brought it with me, hidden in my bag. Uncle Albus would take it if he knew I had it, but I have a great hiding place.� Sara grinned as she poured again from the same bottle, which still looked to be untouched. “There’s a spell on it. The bottle never empties, so have all you want. It will warm you up."



“You managed the Bottomless spell? Even Hermione can’t do that one!�



“I wish! I did, however, spend all of last year’s allowance on it. I can do the Replenish spell but it takes the refill from the source, so it doesn’t count.�



He almost admitted that he'd never had wine before, but didn’t want to seem so ignorant and unrefined in front of a girl. Least of all this girl. "Thanks. It's very good."



Sara crossed the room and switched on an old Muggle stereo, something Harry thought was impossible at Hogwarts and he wondered how she’d managed to make it work. Slow, smoky music, melancholy and stirring, filled the room. A woman's voice, singing soft and low, touched his ears and Harry listened. It was jazz, he thought, or something you'd hear in a lounge on a corner in some big city. He loved it, he knew, it touched something somewhere inside, in the heart or in the soul, somewhere between sadness and something else. Harry hadn't heard music since he'd left the Dursleys’ half a year ago, but it had never affected him in such a way before.



"Why don't you come out?" She indicated the doors to the roof. "Your hair will dry faster out here."



Harry followed her, carrying his glass, watching her as she led him to a couple of patio chairs with a small table between them. She stopped once at a scattering of broken glass.



"Reparo." The glass became whole at once, without the use of a wand, and she walked on, leaving it there, strangely out of place.



Harry was impressed but said nothing. He sat and took a sip before setting his glass down. He watched her; not knowing what he should do or say next, and racked his brain for something clever.



She watched him in return, finally setting the drink aside. Sara said nothing for a long moment, just held his gaze, and then asked for his hand.



If Harry was a little taken aback by this, he didn't show it. He held his hand out at once. She took it and turned the palm up, resting it on her knee. Sara appeared deep in thought as she ran the tip of one nail along the lines of his hand. It was something he remembered from Professor Trelawney's Divination class. She was reading his palm.



"Great tragedy in your life. A difficult childhood. Mysteries defined most of your life, as well as emotional suffering and silent anger. Many secrets veiled your past until here.� She ran her nail along a deep crease. “When the veil was lifted and truth both scarred and liberated the darkest parts of your being. You will lose and regain the thing you cherish most in your life on two occasions, the tragedies seven years apart. The second time will be your fault in some way, though your love for this thing, whatever it is, will guide you back to it. You will also lose something you never knew you loved. You’re strong, loyal, and determined. Skeptical. Inquisitive. You've come close to death more than once."



"Am I going to die soon? Professor Trelawney sure thinks I am."



"Hardly, Harry! You've many adventures ahead. You will face your mortal enemy on several occasions here, here." She indicated a spot in the crease of his palm. "And here. Actually, I don't like telling the future. It can’t be relied upon.� Besides, she thought. Your palm is a rather painful and unsettling web.



"It's okay. I wasn’t serious anyway. Trelawney’s a bit eccentric." He expected her to drop his hand, but instead she studied another of his lines.



"This is strange." Sara looked over her own palm, then at Harry.



"What's strange?"



"It's nothing." Sara released his hand and stood, turning to lift her glass before wandering over to the edge of the roof.



Harry looked at the line she'd been studying last. His love line. He didn't ask.



"I thought I saw something last night," she admitted with her back to Harry, "I couldn't be sure, it was so dark and I'd only just woken up but I think something was standing in the door there."



"What did it look like?"



"A black hooded figure. Then it was gone."



"Have you ever seen it before last night?"



"I'm not sure. I thought I'd seen it in New York a few times, but it could be only the remnant of a dream. I don't know why I brought it up."



"Because it troubles you and you don't really believe it's a dream. I think you should tell Dumbledore."



"Not unless I was sure."



"But you shouldn't stay here. Ask for another room."



"And give all this up?" She indicated their surroundings. "Besides, he would know something was wrong in an instant. I don’t want to trouble him."



"Then close the doors at night. At least do that."



"Perhaps you're right. Would you like another?" She glanced at his empty glass. "I'll get the bottle."



Harry stood and smiled at his new friend. "Don’t bother. I'll get it."



* * *



Harry grinned. "I can't have any more. I'm sorry, but I seem to be having trouble with my feet. I should get back to Gryffindor, anyway. Ron will think I'm dead by now." Harry stood, but Sara blocked his path, standing maddeningly close. There were maybe two inches between them and he had a sudden and intense desire to kiss her.



Sara held his eyes and laid a hand on his arm. "Sleep here. You'll be in a lot of trouble if you're caught stumbling about the halls at this hour. Besides, if the shadow comes back, I'll feel a lot safer with you around, Harry Potter, drunk or not." She laid a hand against his cheek and brushed her thumb across his scar.



Harry stammered, moving his arm to take the hand that rested there as his heart thudded in his chest. The candles were dim, blotting out the rest of the world and she wrapped her fingers around his. "But..."



Sara stepped in, eliminating the gap between them until Harry thought he could hear the sounds of her fine, silken clothes brushing against his rough cotton shirt. "Don't worry. No one will find you here."



"I don't think it's a good idea," he reasoned, whispering as the rest of him cried out stay, to see what happened. Sara was so beautiful in this light, he thought. In any light, and the way she looked at him was what it meant to be caught in the moment. "We've only just met. It wouldn't be proper. Plus, I think I'm intoxicated." His arm went around her waist but then he realized what he was doing and pulled it back to hang at his side.



Sara stepped back with a playful grin, dropping his hand. "You are, but so am I. Now please stop arguing and follow me."



Harry smiled and allowed her to lead him to the sofa before the fire.



* * *



Harry awoke with a start. His head was heavy and his scar burned. He pressed his hand to it and winced. It took a moment to remember where he was and then he heard her frantic whisper.



"Harry! Look, it's there!"



Harry rose from the sofa, the back of which faced her bed, trying to shake off sleep. He glanced at Sara under her blankets and followed her gaze to the open doors. A hooded figure, barely distinguishable in the shadows, lingered just outside and he could feel its menace. As Harry drew near its hiss was unmistakable, something he remembered well and still heard in his darkest dreams. It vanished into the shadows, blending, seamless, with the night.



Harry looked to Sara, her knees drawn up, the sheets pulled to her chin. She was trembling.



"Did you see it?"



"Yes, unless we're both dreaming." Harry glanced back to where the figure had been. "I don't think you imagined that. Not at all."



"Is it gone?"



"Yes. My scar doesn't hurt anymore.�



"Good. Would you stay with me? Just for a little while?"



"Perhaps we should close the doors."



"No. It's gone. It's afraid of you, I think. Good thing." Sara moved across the bed, making room for him. "Please, Harry, just for a moment."



Harry sat on the bed, close to the edge and just looked at her, unsure of what to do.



"Lay down. Put your arms around me."



Harry did as she asked, no longer feeling awkward. She was scared, that's all. Sara curled up to him, her head on his shoulder, his arms wrapped around her. She smelled fantastic and her warmth comforted him. She was trembling and, without much thought, he stroked her hair, hesitant and uncertain. In response, Sara slid a hand over his chest until her arm lay across it and snuggled a little closer. Harry thought he would go mad with the nearness of her.



He lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling as she drifted off, until his eyes became heavy and closed.



* * *



"Harry. Harry!"



Harry’s eyes were slow to open in the gloom. Sara looked down on him, propped on her elbow, her right arm still draped across his chest.



"The castle will be stirring soon. You'll want to be in your bed when it does."



Harry met her eyes in the near dark, not wanting to move at all. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep here."



"Best night's sleep I've had in a long time. I’ve never felt so safe. I'm glad you were here." She gave him a warm smile. "Can you come back the night after next?"



"Of course I can."



"Come after lights out."



"I will."



"I'll see you then. But for now you have to go." Sara hesitated and then kissed his cheek.



He smiled for a moment and then slipped from the bed. He collected his cloak, slipped on his shoes, passed through the door and hurried back to Gryffindor.



Harry found the dorms silent as he crept through to his room. A quick check behind the curtains reveled that Ron was fast asleep. Harry changed into pajamas, drew his own curtains, and then simply lay there, thinking of Sara. He recalled his arm around her in the dark, her slow breath warm on his neck, and her sleeping head on his shoulder. He rolled onto his side and hugged the pillow. It would be two long days until he saw her again.



* * *



"Harry!" Ron whispered, looking in at Harry, "Where the bloody hell were you last night? I woke up at three in the morning and you weren't in your bed! I almost went to McGonagall and said I thought you'd been killed!"



Harry had intended all along to tell Ron about his night with Sara, but decided instantly to lie. "I got lost."



"Lost?! After six years!"



Harry shrugged his shoulders.



"You look terrible, you know."



"I'm okay," Harry lied. "Just tired."



"Well you'd better get up. You'll be late for breakfast."



Harry swung his legs over the edge of the bed with lackluster disinterest and began to dress, thinking breakfast sounded simply awful. However, he was quite thirsty. He also knew that, the next time he saw Sara, he wouldn't be drinking any more wine. He felt terrible.



* * *



Much to the annoyance of Ron and Hermione, Harry couldn't stop thinking of Sara. Something would remind him of her, his mind would linger on her and, the next thing he knew, he was off in a cloud somewhere. He missed whole conversations, only to be asked a question to which he couldn't respond. In potions, he'd made the mistake of daydreaming during one of Snape's lectures and, when called upon, Harry didn't know what to say. Snape had done his best to humiliate him in front of the class and Harry had slumped in his seat, defeated.



* * *



Harry followed Ron and Hermione back to Gryffindor after dinner and they settled around a table in the common room. Harry opened a book to study but never read a word, only stared at the pages, thinking of Sara and how he could get through another day without talking to her. How he longed to sneak off to her tower, if only to say hello.



"HARRY!"



Harry looked up to find Ron looking at him and Hermione glaring.



Hermione swatted him in the head with a scroll of parchment. "What is wrong with you? You've been out to lunch all day."



Harry attempted an apologetic smile. "I'm just tired. I think I might be coming down with something. I'm sorry."



"He looked awful this morning," Ron told Hermione, who softened her tone.



"Go to bed, then. You've got the whole weekend to study."



Harry gathered up his books and stood. "I'll see you at breakfast."



"Get some rest."



“I will.� Harry raised a hand to Ron, who waved back, and went up the stairs. He got into bed without bothering with pajamas and was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.



* * *



When Harry’s eyes opened again, it was full dark. He heard muffled snoring coming from the other four boys in the room and wondered what had woken him.



Then he heard it.



A gentle song on the wind, drifting in through the window. It sounded the way angels must sound when they sang, melodic and unrestrained, lovely. He recognized her voice at once and sat up, listening.



Harry had to go back to her tower. He had to see her tonight, forget that she'd asked him to come tomorrow. He wouldn't stay long, not unless she wanted him to, but he had to go.



Harry slipped on his shoes and took his invisibility cloak from the trunk at the end of the bed in silence, pulling it on and over his head.



It wasn't far from Gryffindor to the Northeast Tower and he jogged most of the way. However, when he reached the door at its base he stopped and fell back into the shadows.



Someone was coming.



* * *



Her voice carried on the wind as though she were a nightingale; soft, drifting and clean, whimsical. Penetrating. A most powerful enchantment, at one with the wafting breeze. The old language of Romania flowed across the darkness, having never seen such beautiful elocution.



Her midnight cape billowed on the air, lifting it from shoulders astir with silver-white hair. The song itself was slow and arduous, like a musical caress, and Sara sang from within.





Sara stepped back from the edge of the roof and closed the beloved spell book, crafted by her mother’s hand over many years and composed in elegant, flowing script. It was the very essence of Diana Lemke, Sara thought, and she cherished this little collection of magical life that her mother had left behind.



She held it to her chest, hoping the spell she'd cast on her song would work. Despite her fear, curiosity gave her voice release, though the prospect of knowing the identity of one’s true love was rather frightening and Sara’s pulse was quick. What she'd seen in Harry's palm simply couldn't be wrong but perhaps she'd seen something because she wanted it more than anything? Maybe something that wasn't really there. Maybe the comfort she felt in his presence, the way her heart pounded when she looked at him was adolescence, not destiny.



According to the book, if the spell was sung into the wind on a clear, starry night while the moon was at one-quarter crescent, something amazing and magical would occur. If she hadn't botched it, her song would awaken the one who would truly love her and lead him to where she was. "It has to be him," she whispered, "He must be the one."



Sara regarded the book one last time and read the afterthought, addressed to her by the loveliest hand.



Dearest Sara,



Surely, this spell was written especially for you, the fairest of them all…



I came upon it in an old Gypsy spell book Vanya Ivanova gave to your grandmother. Your dad tried to impress me with the book shortly after we met and I used this spell the first chance I got! Guess who showed up? That’s right; you call him ‘Dad.’



I want to warn you in advance to be better prepared than I was when more than one young man follows your song. And what a song it will be! Your voice is pure beauty, Sara. It’s likely the whole world will arise the moment it touches their ears.



Love, Mum



Sara regarded the spell book one last time before replacing it on the shelf with care, next to an ancient Romanian text called Celestira, which had once belonged to the very same Vanya Ivanova. She glanced at the Marauder's Map folded on the desk and ignored it. She wouldn't refer to it tonight.



Sara opened the door to the stairs, turned on some low music, poured another glass of wine, and went back onto the roof to wait. She sipped and sang the gentle verses, wondering if he would really come. She had doubts. She liked him so much and he was such a gentleman. It couldn't be this easy, but she had to know. She had to give Harry this test.



Sara turned at the voice, disappointed. She regarded the over-confident, impossibly blond primadonna standing near the doors between the roof and her rooms, thinking he had the most arrogant countenance, as well as a dark, disturbing aura. She said nothing and didn't smile.



"Forgive the intrusion but I thought I heard singing. I followed it here." He looked around, lingering on the candle-lit room through which he had come. "It's nicer than I would have thought."



"Must have been my stereo you heard. I'm sorry to have disturbed you, Mr...."



"Malfoy. It's Draco, actually. And you are?"



"Tired, Mr. Malfoy. It was nice meeting you, but if you don't mind, I was just about to turn in." He was taller than she was and in possession of extraordinary good looks. He was flashy and well manicured. Sara assumed he was rich.



"That was no stereo I heard." Malfoy moved closer. "And what is your name? You still haven't told me."



"It's Sara. Goodnight, Mr. Malfoy."



"What's the hurry? I think you could stay up awhile longer."



"I said goodnight."



Malfoy took a few more presumptuous steps, never averting his icy blue-gray eyes. Sara stepped back, but a part of her found him beautiful and confident, exciting… dangerous… and that part of her wanted to see what would happen. She did her best to ignore it. He was now so close that she backed into the wall of the roof with nowhere else to go.



Draco stopped and his eyes lingered on hers for a long moment until he spoke with a gentler tone. "I don't like it when people are rude to me. Especially for no reason. However, I suppose I could forget it if you'll see me tomorrow."



"No."



He placed a hand atop the wall on either side of her waist, his sly grin subsiding as he leaned closer. "We could be friends, you know."



"Somehow I doubt that." Sara was irritated by his lack of tact, but somehow wished he would get untactfully closer. His dangerous proximity captivated her in ways she’d never experienced. Draco was only inches from her, his hand touched her face and Sara's breath caught in her throat. She meant to be stern when she spoke, but her words were barely more than a whisper. "I want you to leave, Draco Malfoy."



His arm went around her waist. "And what if I would rather stay here with you?" He took the glass from her hand and set it on the wall, out of reach.



Sara said nothing as something foreign awoke inside her, some dark curiosity that brought her suddenly to life. It felt like a potion that warmed from the inside out, a Dark glow saturated with forbidden curiosity. His confidence and aggression were disarming and Sara caught his eyes.



"Let go of me!" She pushed him away, trying to catch her breath, wondering what had just happened. "I said I want you to leave."



Malfoy gave her a smug grin.



"You're offensive."



"So I’ve been told."



"There's Darkness in you. You're evil on some level and it radiates. I want you to leave."



Malfoy seemed upset by this and concurred with a brief nod, his arrogance all but gone. "I'm not my father," he whispered and walked to the door that led down the stairs. He stopped and turned, his confidence back in evidence. "I'll visit you again, Sara. Tomorrow perhaps."



"I'm very busy if you don't mind." Sara closed the door on him. She fell against it, her disappointment overwhelming. Why couldn't it be?



* * *



Harry stayed in the shadows as he watched Malfoy come and go, furious at the thought of Draco in her rooms. It explained why she'd asked to see him tomorrow instead of tonight. Because she already had plans to see Malfoy.



Feeling betrayed, Harry made his way back to his bed in Gryffindor Tower, put on his pajamas and climbed in. It was raining again and he was glad. It reflected the way he felt.



Harry lay awake most of the night, falling asleep only after the rain stopped.



* * *



Being that there were no classes on Saturday and Harry was alone, as Ron and Hermione thought he was sick and headed off to the library together, Harry thought he would pass by Sara's tower before lunch. Half of him didn't want to see her, but the other half wanted an explanation. Just before he arrived there, he heard voices and concealed himself in his hiding place of last night. It was Malfoy again. He sounded angry and Harry listened.



"How can you say you don't like me? You haven't even gotten to know me yet!" Malfoy backed Sara into a corner. "You could at least give me a chance."



"I don't want to give you a chance! I know your kind. A future Death Eater if I ever saw one! You've got evil in your eyes, Mr. Malfoy. I want you to leave me alone."



"You can call me Draco."



"I'd rather not."



Malfoy drew closer until he was only inches from her. Sara pushed back into the corner, clutching the book she held to her chest, with nowhere else to go. She was shaking. With rage or fear, Harry didn't know.



"Enough with this game you're playing. It's annoying."



"It's what? You have a hell of a lot of nerve!"



Harry stood in disbelief as Malfoy moved to kiss her and Sara never even attempted to push him away. Harry turned his eyes to the wall, feeling more shattered than ever. Didn't she know he was crazy about her? That he couldn't stop thinking about her? Sure, they’d only just met but they’d connected in a way he’d never experienced. At least he thought they had. Perhaps he'd been mistaken when he thought she liked him, too? Maybe the friendly little kiss she'd given him was only that. Friendly.



Without warning, a tremor shook the floor and nearly toppled Harry over. He thought they were having an earthquake and grabbed the wall, losing his vantage point. There was a strange zap! and a flash, then a solid thud. Harry turned to see Malfoy on the floor. Something like electricity clung to him and then dissipated. Sara stood over him in a rage. The floor still shook and Harry noticed that the black streak in Sara's hair had gone a violent red. Her voice trembled as she spoke through clenched teeth. "If you touch me again, I'll kill you!"



Malfoy seethed, getting to his feet. "How dare you use that sorceress magic on me!? That hurt. My father will hear of this, and you can kiss Hogwarts goodbye!"



Harry's heart stopped. Could Lucius really manage that? In the midst of Harry's worry, Sara spit in Malfoy's face. Harry gripped the handle of his wand.



Draco's face turned bright red with anger. He muttered something Harry couldn't quite hear and Sara backed into the corner once more, clutching a tattered old book for protection. The streak was black again, as though it hadn't changed and Harry wondered if it really had.



Just as anticipated, Malfoy drew his wand.



Harry rushed into the corridor. "Expelliarmus!"



Draco’s wand flew from his hand. He turned and came face to face with Harry.



"What are you doing here, Potter?"



Sara sighed her relief. "Harry!" She ran from the corner and hid behind him, resting her hand on his shoulder and peeking over it at Draco. "Harry, thank Merlin!"



Malfoy fumed "Please tell me you two don’t know each other!"



Harry answered for her. "Get lost, Malfoy."



"Or what? Do you think you scare me? Do you really think I'll just run away because you pulled out your wand?" Draco pretended to shake in terror. “Oh, I’m so scared! Someone save me! Potty’s got his wand out!�



"I could just give you a black eye the old fashioned way."



"Oh shove off, Potter," Malfoy muttered as he collected his wand, which had come to rest against the wall. "The two of you deserve each other." With that, Malfoy hurried away, staggering with pain and they watched until he was out of sight.



Sara threw her arms around Harry's neck. Harry hadn't expected such sudden affection but returned the embrace without hesitation. She wore an intoxicating perfume, which he liked a great deal. Her hair felt like silken threads against his arms and the way she pressed against him produced a funny feeling in his stomach. He liked having her so close and was disappointed when she pulled away. Sara let her hand slip down to hold his. Harry smiled, feeling a bit stupid for thinking she was meeting Malfoy at night.



"Harry, you've saved me twice in as many days! Perhaps I should keep you around all the time." Her smile faltered when she remembered that he hadn't heard her song. "I mean, if I could."



"Did he bother you last night?"



"What do you mean?"



"I'd heard singing. I followed it here and saw Malfoy go into your tower. I thought..."



Sara smiled, secret and with great relief. “It was just my stereo. Malfoy heard it, too. I had a time of it getting rid of him, but he left after a few minutes. No, he didn't hurt me." She pulled away and took his hand. "He's vile, Harry. I despised him before I even looked at him. It's in his voice, the treachery. He'll be a Death Eater before you know it."



"You’re an excellent judge of character. Malfoy just happens to be our number one Slytherin. Everyone despises him. Are you okay?"



"Yes. He did no harm. You came along before he could."



An awkward silence passed, and then Harry spoke. "Don't you ever wear shoes?"



Sara glanced at her bare feet. "Of course I do. But why here? Why bother?"



"Well, you do have very nice feet."



Sara laughed, modest and uncomfortable. She’d never handled compliments well, especially when they were in favor of her appearance. "Thank you. I’m sure your feet are just as nice.�



“Don’t bet on it.�



“Now, I was on my way to the dungeons when that Malfoy came by. I left the damn map upstairs, I mean, who wants to climb all the way back up? But if I had, I would have seen him coming. Why don't you walk with me? I have to see Professor Snape about a potion or two. Were you in a hurry?"



"I was just coming by to see you but I'll wait outside. Snape hates me and he's especially upset since I wasn't paying attention in class and screwed up my potion. I doubt he's over it yet."



Sara grinned. "Daydreaming were you? What about?"



Harry blushed. "I don’t remember."



Sara smiled as she took his arm, led him down the corridor and then into a hidden passage that wasn't even on the Marauder's Map.



When they neared Snape's classroom, Sara released Harry's arm and left him outside the door. She knocked twice, entered, and was out of sight.



"Good morning, Severus!"



Harry had to struggle not to laugh as he listened to their conversation. He'd never heard Snape talk to anyone like this, so out of character. He was trying to be nice, and Sara encouraged this behavior. The whole exchange was so pleasant that it was a bit nauseating.



"Good morning, Sara. You're well I hope?"



"I'm just fine, Severus. How have you been? I haven't seen you in days."



"I was planning to visit this afternoon but I see you've found me first. As for how I am? Considering the fact that I have absolutely no talented students, I'd say I'm doing rather well.�



“Glad to hear it. That you’re well, I mean. Not the part about having no talented students.�



“You know, you're most welcome to sit in on my classes if it will get you out of that tower. I'm sure I could arrange something. A Polyjuice Potion perhaps."



"Thank you. I'll bet you're a very interesting teacher but you shouldn't worry. I'm perfectly happy in my tower. However, I do need your assistance."



"Of course. Whatever you require."



"First, there's the matter of a memory charm. You see, I was singing last night--"



"I know. You put me to sleep. I've heard that song once before, long ago, when I was still a student here. At least this time I wasn’t driven from my bed by it. You have a beautiful voice, my dear. Your mother would be proud."



Sara fell silent for a moment, realizing that Snape was the other boy who’d followed her mother’s song all those years ago. With difficulty, she cleared her thoughts and went on. "Thank you, Severus. Well, a student found his way into my room.�



Snape’s expression grew concerned. “Who?�



“An impossibly arrogant creep with excellent taste in clothes and hair the same color as mine. He positively reeked of money and bad parenting."



“Draco Malfoy.�



“Yes, that was the name he gave.�



"And did Mr. Malfoy cause you any... undue stress?"



"No, but he was a total prat and I'd prefer it if he did not come back. Ever."



"He won't bother you again. You have my word.�



Sara breathed relief. “Thank you.�



“Was there something else?"



"Just a few simple potions. Perhaps you're familiar with them. I found them in my mother's book. Here." She handed him the book. "I've marked the pages. There's no hurry."



"It does seem I am familiar with some of these. I created a few of them for Diana while we were still in school. The others look easy enough. I will bring them as soon as they're ready."



"Send an elf. I'd hate to impose."



"It would be my pleasure. You can be assured I will look after this." He indicated the old book.



"There are very few people I would trust with that but I'm sure you will see it safely back to me."



"You can rely on it. If there's anything else you need..."



"You've done enough already. I should be getting back, though. Thank you again, Severus. It was nice seeing you."



"The pleasure was mine, my dear."



When Sara found Harry in the hall, his face was red from his silent laughter.



Sara smiled. "Oh shut up, Harry!"



* * *



Sara took his hand and held it as they stopped in the corridor, halfway between his tower and hers. "Promise you'll visit me tonight."



"I will. After lights out."



"I'll put a spell on the door. Let yourself in. I'll wait for you on the roof." Sara waited in silence, expectant.



Harry found he was terrified but, after little thought, he bent and kissed her cheek.



She gave him the sweetest smile.



Harry breathed relief. "I'll see you later."



"I hope so." She squeezed his hand before letting it go and walked away.



Sara looked back before she turned the corner and waved to Harry, who still stood where she'd left him, watching her go.



* * *



Weeks passed and Harry was falling asleep in class all the time. He had been sent to the hospital wing more than once, as this was not his usual behavior. He had taken to avoiding Ron as much as possible for his questions about Harry's nightly absences were becoming too trying. Hermione demanded to know what he was doing on a daily basis. Breakfast began every day with "Okay, where were you last night, Harry?" and the two of them glaring at him for keeping a secret. At the moment, neither was speaking to him. He knew he would have to tell them soon or risk losing his friends.



* * *



Harry managed to keep his secret straight through until the end of May. He knew the time was coming, as Hermione had taken to being hostile toward him, so he wasn’t at all surprised one Saturday when he awoke to Ron and Hermione standing over his bed. Harry reached for his glasses, put them on and straightened up. "Good morning."



Ron bellowed, incredulous. "Morning?!"



Hermione glared at him. "Harry, it's one-thirty! You've missed breakfast and lunch. Look, we demand to know what's going on. Why are you always so tired?"



"Yeah and where the bloody hell are you getting off to half the night? You come in at dawn and sleep in your clothes!"



"I promised I wouldn't tell anyone. Besides, you'll just laugh."



Ron fumed. "Well we're not laughing now."



"We want to know!�



They stood there, resolute. Waiting for an explanation.



Harry sighed, resigned. "I've been seeing a girl."



Ron laughed aloud. "A girl! Is that all? Change your mind about Cho Chang, did you?"



"No!"



Hermione nudged Ron with her elbow and gave him a stern glance. Ron stopped laughing, but continued to grin at Harry.



Hermione sat on the edge of the bed. "Is it someone we know?"



"Her name is Sara. She's Dumbledore's niece. He thinks she's in danger, so he's hiding her. You can't tell anyone. No one's supposed to know she's here."



"We won't tell anyone but you shouldn't keep secrets from your friends."



Ron was no longer grinning. "We were getting rather worried. Hermione’s been researching chronic fatigue for weeks!"



Hermione threw him an elbow.



Ron rubbed the spot. “Hey! What was that for?!�



She ignored him. "So Harry, when do we get to meet her?"



Harry sighed, relieved to tell them at last. "I'll talk to her about it. I just hope she isn't angry with me."



* * *



It was easier to see Sara with Ron's assistance. Harry was able to leave soon after dinner. Ron put pillows under Harry's blankets and drew the curtains around his bed.



The days flew by, one night at a time.



Sara's door swung itself open on Harry's approach as it had every night since she'd put the spell on it. (Harry had put a spell on the door in secret, warding it against Malfoy.) There was music playing as there always was, but the voice that sang was Sara's and Harry stood in silence, listening for a long time in the doors to the roof as the silk curtains billowed around him. Her voice was moving and angelic, perfect. The same voice he'd heard on the wind so many months before.



Harry noticed the black streak in her hair, which had once been profound, was almost gone. He was curious about it, but never asked. There were so many questions, it seemed, he could never ask them all.



Harry smiled as she turned with the setting sun blazing behind her. There was a secret light behind her eyes that existed only for him and Harry wondered what he’d done to deserve such exclusive bestowment.



Sara grinned. “You’re early, thank Merlin. I wasn’t watching the clock or anything.� She tipped her head aside as she considered him. “Is it me, or are you trying to decide whether or not to ask me something? Out with it then!�



"What did you see in my palm that day?" It was one of the more troubling questions and he was relieved to voice it. "What was so interesting that you wouldn’t tell me?"



Sara turned back to him. She held up her palm for him to inspect and then took his and positioned it next to hers. "Do you see? One of the lines is identical."



"They do look quite similar, don't they?"



"Not similar, Harry. Exactly the same."



"But what does it mean? I don't understand."



"I'm not sure but I think it's a good omen."



Harry smiled and led her back onto the roof.



* * *

The Girl in the Tower

~

Chapter Two: Ka-tet

~

Ron and Harry were in the best of spirits and, to their surprise, Hermione looked fabulous, though maybe a little nervous. Her bushy hair was smoothed and curled. She was wearing a bit of make-up and a pretty summer dress that floated around her knees when she moved and her sandals had heels.

Uncertainty edged her voice. "Do I look ok?"

"You look nice, Hermione!" Harry nudged Ron with his elbow.

Ron was staring at her. "Um... yeah. You look nice." He glanced at Harry, hoping to gauge his reaction. Harry smiled and Ron realized Harry was amused by his fumbled attempt at complimenting Hermione’s appearance. Hermione herself didn’t seem to notice his discomfort.

She smiled with delight. "Thank you both. Should we be off, then?"

People stopped to stare at Hermione as they passed in the halls. No one had seen her look the way she looked since the Yule Ball. Now that she was two years older and no longer a child, she was quite attractive.

They made their way to Sara's tower, making sure no one was about before slipping inside. The door was open at the top of the stairs and they stepped through to find Sara on the sofa in the sitting room reading The Daily Prophet. She stood at once and came over to greet them with a bright smile.

Remembering his manners, Harry introduced Hermione and then Ron.

Sara shook their hands. "It's so nice to meet you both at last! Harry's told me all about you, of course."

Hermione beamed. "It's nice to meet you, Sara! Harry spoke so highly of you."

Harry blushed but didn't know why.

Ron tipped his head in serious consideration as he regarded Sara. "You don't look much like Dumbledore."

Sara erupted with enchanting, musical laughter. "I'm still waiting for my beard to grow in. Come on. Let's go out." Sara led them onto the roof. They would be having an open-air dinner, since the warm spring weather was perfect for it.

Harry remembered to pull out Sara's chair and Ron, in the middle of arranging his own chair, saw what Harry was doing and hurried to do the same for Hermione. He gave her angry glance an apologetic smile. They settled around a square table, set for four, and a house-elf poured them each a glass of wine. Hermione took a small taste, but Ron took a big gulp and went a bit white.

Ron grimaced. "A little shocking at first, isn't it?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's not water. You have to sip it!"

Ron turned red with embarrassment. "I knew that. I just forgot, I guess."

Sara smiled. "Hermione, that's a pretty dress you're wearing."

"Thank you! But not as nice as yours. Most of my wardrobe is rather… functional."

"We look about the same size. You're welcome to borrow anything of mine that you like."

Hermione was unable to hide her delight. "Seriously?"

"In fact, why don't you come for lunch tomorrow? I wanted to talk to you anyway. Harry says you're good with spells."

"I'd love to! And I'd be happy to help you with any spells you require."

"Excellent!"

Soon after they were served, Ron was astonished, looking to Sara for an explanation. "How did you get this? This is fabulous!"

Hermione kicked him under the table and spoke a whispered aside. “Don’t talk with your mouth full!�

"It's Romanian. A recipe handed down through my father's family. I sent an owl to the kitchen earlier and asked them to prepare it. I'm glad you like it."

“I wish I could send an owl to the kitchen and have house-elves bring food to the dorms. That would be bloody brilliant!�

Ron plowed through two more courses and dessert, each as good as the last in his opinion, occasionally forgetting to sip and reliving the shock each time. He went through several glasses before Sara suggested he have some water to thin it out.

Sara retired her usual rapturous, honey-toned music in exchange for something a little more festive, turning it up rather loud. She started to dance with Hermione, who was reluctant at first, though getting a little giggly. Between Harry and Ron, they decided that around Sara, Hermione was like another person. Fun loving, easy-going, almost adventurous. Three glasses of wine helped, they were sure, but she was different. Not the nerdy, bookworm pal they were so accustomed to and it wasn't long before Sara had her in the dressing room, trying on clothes.

Ron wandered over to the wall and Harry followed. They stood there in silence for a moment, looking out over the grounds until Ron gave a heavy sigh.

"What's wrong, Ron?"

"Harry? Do you think Hermione's pretty at all?"

Harry shrugged. "I guess so. But Hermione is just... Hermione. I don't really look at her that way."

"Well I do. But I believe she thinks the way you do."

"Cheer up, Ron. I think she likes you."

Ron perked up. "Really? What makes you say that?"

"Let’s call it a hunch."

Laughter neared.

Ron and Harry turned to see Hermione crossing the roof with Sara. They were clinging to each other, slopping their wine here and there, not seeming to notice, and stumbling a little. Hermione was wearing a typical Sara outfit and Harry noticed she had lost her shoes somewhere. Both of them were barefoot.

Ron smiled. "It's a little silly, the way you two are carrying on. You look great, Hermione.�

Hermione smiled back and pulled him aside for some quiet conversation.

Sara set her glass on the wall and leaned against Harry as the music faded to something slow and rhythmic.

"I think we should dance. Come on." Sara took his hand, laughing a little because she knew he'd only danced with a girl once, at the Yule Ball years before.

He placed a hand on her back and took hers with the other. "Perhaps you should wear shoes. I'm sure to step on your feet."

Sara smiled and laid her head on his shoulder. "You'll do fine. I can see the future and there are no broken toes in it."

Hermione looked at Ron, who just stood there, looking back, not knowing how to
proceed. He opened his mouth once but closed it again; too afraid she'd just laugh at him.

"I guess it's ladies’ choice," she said, matter-of-fact. "Would you care to, Ron?"

"I'm not very good." He lowered his voice and bent a little closer. "But I'd be the luckiest guy here."

Hermione smiled and blushed as she placed her hand in his.

* * *

Hermione was up early the next morning, putting spells on her hair and attempting to apply make-up, borrowed from Parvati Patil. She'd tried on everything she owned at least twice and in every possible combination. She finally settled on her usual boring Saturday attire but she was miserable about it.

By the time Ron wandered into the common room looking positively ill, she had already eaten breakfast and gone to the library to research a spell to make her nails grow, though she didn't have any polish and all the girls had already gone. Harry followed, smiling a secret smile she had only seen once before.

Ron moaned when he saw her. "You've got to be kidding me! How can you look so bloody chipper? I really hate you sometimes, Hermione." Ron smiled at her before slumping onto the sofa.

Harry sat at the other end, looking tired and serene.

"Harry, I simply adore Sara!" Hermione was glad they were able to speak aloud, as everyone else was outside enjoying the beautiful day. "She's so different. I can see why you like her."

Harry smiled, pleased and somewhat relieved that Hermione had found a friend in Sara.

"I liked her, too, Harry. I haven't had that much fun in ages! She's really great. What the bloody hell is she doing with you?" Ron laughed as best he could and Harry found the energy to throw a pillow at him.

“The only problem is I think she’s corrupting Ron. We shouldn’t be drinking at our age and it’s against school rules. Ron must’ve had himself half a vat of wine last night! Please try not to get expelled a year before graduation. Harry, at least you had some sense.�

Ron was incredulous. “Well you were drinking it, too!�

“I was trying to be polite, Ronald! I only had a little.�

Harry laughed. “If five glasses is a little, then Ron was downright gracious!�

Hermione rose from her chair, indignant. "Well, I brought you two some toast from breakfast. I thought you might be hungry but it's cold by now. Besides, lunch is only an hour away. I'm sure by then Ron will have come around enough to go down.� She turned to Ron. “Drink some water for now. It should help."

Ron moaned. "If I thought I could get up, I'd go stick my head in the lake. Really, I've never been so thirsty."

“I hope you’ve learned your lesson, then!�

“What lesson?�

“Next time, politely decline!� Hermione gave him a resigned sigh and left the room.

When she returned, she had a pitcher of cold water and two glasses, which she set on the table between Ron and Harry. "Now drink it. I'm going to speak to Professor McGonagall about Friday's test and then I'm meeting Sara for lunch. I expect you to be feeling better by the time I return. And make sure you eat something."

"Yes Mum."

She crossed the room and went out. Harry just looked at Ron and smiled.

* * *

Harry sat up, surprised. "Fawkes!"

The phoenix dropped a letter in Harry's lap, circled once, and came to rest on the back of a chair. Harry read it aloud.

Dear Harry,

There is something I would like to discuss with you. Please come to my office at your earliest convenience. Fawkes will wait to carry your answer.

Sincerely,
Professor Dumbledore

Harry sighed. "Uh-oh."

"You don't think he found out, do you?"

"Why else would he send me this?" Harry indicated the letter. "I'd better send Fawkes back."

He went to the desk and composed a note.

Professor Dumbledore,
I will come at once, sir.
Harry Potter

Harry folded and sealed the letter and gave it Fawkes, who flew off in a rush of red and gold feathers.

"Better to get it over with."

"But what are you going to say?"

"I don't know. The truth, I guess."

"Good luck, mate."

"Thanks." Harry left the common room with shoulders slumped.

* * *

What was he going to say? Did Dumbledore know they'd been drinking the Riesling? Did he know he spent most of his nights in Sara's room? What a disaster. What could he say that would keep everyone out of trouble and was also the truth? Of course! The hooded figure. He could say he'd been protecting Sara from it and that's why he stayed there after hours. That was a large part of why he stayed with her, really. It was easy for Harry to see how scared she was of it but would Dumbledore understand?

Harry had reached the door. He hesitated; feeling anxious and something akin to scared and then turned to the gargoyle and spoke the password.

"Ice Mice."

The door opened and Harry entered. There was Fawkes, the enormous phoenix, on his perch as always. The headmaster sat at his desk, his manner appearing pleasant to Harry, who was nervous.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

Dumbledore indicated the chair across from him and spoke in his usual soft tone. "Yes, Harry. Have a seat."

Harry sat.

"It has come to my attention that you have been inattentive in class and distracted in general for the past couple of months. In fact, I hear you've been taking regular naps during lectures. Tell me, are you ill?"

"No sir."

"Is there something bothering you? Problems of any sort?"

Harry knew there was no lying to Dumbledore and besides, his concern was genuine. "No sir. No problems."

Dumbledore smiled. "Ah, you're in love, then."

Harry looked at the floor, unable to answer.

"You know, I've noticed similar changes in my niece recently. She's almost cheerful. Not so... downhearted."

Harry looked at him, knowing his face betrayed his guilt but was powerless to hide it. Dumbledore was waiting for him to speak but he was unable to. Harry just sat there, trying not to fidget.

"Have you met Sara?"

Harry's voice was a whisper and he spoke at the floor. "Yes sir."

Dumbledore leaned across the desk and raised Harry's chin. "It's all right, Harry."

Harry relaxed.

"However, I do have some concerns. Your new friendship is affecting your schoolwork and I, as your headmaster, cannot allow that to happen. You must not go to your classes so tired and so distracted you are unable to learn. You might miss something that could one day save your life. Remember that."

"I will, sir. I'm sorry."

"Also, there is the matter of Sara."

"What about Sara?"

"You must know she has been deeply troubled since the loss of her parents, which I think you understand."

Harry gave a solemn nod.

"It pains me to isolate her the way she is. It's necessary, of course, but such isolation causes immense loneliness. Do you know what I mean, Harry?"

"I think so, Professor. Sara is very sad."

"That she is. It worries me to think what will happen when the boy she loves goes on summer holiday in just a few weeks. You might return to find half of Hogwarts underwater."

"So it's true then! It rains when Sara cries!"

"That it does." Dumbledore folded his hands. "Sara has a tremendous gift. Unfortunately, she's also capable of mass destruction, Harry, and that is why she's hidden in that tower. Dark forces seek her for the powers she tries so hard to hide."

"Professor, how could Sara be capable of mass destruction? I don't understand."

"Ah, but I believe you do. You see, my niece went to Professor Snape with some concerns over our young Mr. Malfoy. When Severus came to me, asking permission to perform a memory charm on him, I asked that he be brought to me first. He was given a mild truth serum and he told me a rather amazing story."

"He assaulted her, sir! I swear Sara didn't do anything wrong."

"I know what happened. I know what Draco tried to do and I'm sure you saw how she handled it."

"There was a, well, sort of an earthquake or something. And the black streak in her hair turned bright red! And she hit him with some kind of spell I'd never seen before. It looked like electricity."

"She hit him with lightning, Harry."

"Lightning?!"

"That is correct. You see, Sara's more extreme emotions are somehow linked with the elements. When she cries, it rains. When anger wells up inside her, the earth trembles. Her fury brings the wrath of the skies. She needs only to raise her arms to the heavens and she commands the winds." Dumbledore rose from the desk and began to pace the room.

"There have been few Elementals throughout history. When I was but a young man I had the opportunity to speak to one, a Romanian Gypsy named Vanya Ivanova, who has the gift. You see, the Elemental lives for 120 years give or take, but one is born every century. That's the way it has always been. The 20 overlapping years allow time for an apprenticeship. Regrettably, Sara and Vanya, who is now one hundred and sixteen years old, have never met. Therefore, Sara does not know how to control the powers she has.

“Sara is undoubtedly stronger than most Elementals, but a fledgling in the use of her ability and it is because of these two things that she is sought by Voldemort. It's why her parents were killed. It was Sara they were after."

"Then how did she escape?" Harry had lots of questions about Sara's parents, none of which ever seemed appropriate.

"She had the good fortune to not be home at the time. She had gone out with a friend for the evening and decided at a late hour to stay the night at the girl's house. If she hadn't, I hate to think what might have happened."

"She probably thinks it's her fault," Harry realized.

"I'm sure she does, even though we've tried to convince her otherwise. We've all done our best to console Sara, but nothing has helped. Until she met you, that is."

Harry gave him a pained smile. "I know how she feels, Professor."

"I know you do. And that is the reason why I will allow you to visit the Northeast Tower. Not excessively, mind you. You have your classes to think about.�

Harry felt an enormous weight lift from his chest. “Of course, sir. Thank you!�

“I'll ask you to keep this permission between us. You must not be caught."

"I won't, sir."

"But I must ask you not to get too close to her. Remember, you'll be leaving soon. We don't want that black tress to consume her whole head."

"What is it, that streak? It grows sometimes and others it's barely noticeable. I asked her once, but she only said it had appeared one day."

"Yes, the day she came home to find the American Department of Magic waiting for her. Only it wasn't just a streak at that point. It was a shroud. Every strand turned black and it grew to her feet within hours. It was like nothing I've ever seen. The shroud is supposed to be myth."

Dumbledore took his seat again and looked directly at Harry. "The black in her hair is caused by the most profound sort of sadness. The kind that penetrates the very soul. And the red you saw was a rage so strong it overcame all other emotions. Sara must be protected from such extremes. She must not be pushed but don't let me frighten you. She hasn't done much more than play with the wind since she was a young girl."

"But why? Why wouldn't she use it?"

"It's a terrible story, Harry, and I know you will not judge her by it."

"Of course not."

"When Sara was twelve years old, she was rather spoiled, being an only child, and used to getting her way. On holiday with her parents in California, they refused her something and Sara became angry. When her mother, Diana, tried to punish her for her behavior, Sara flew into a rage and caused an earthquake that leveled whole neighborhoods and killed dozens of people. After seeing what she had done, she cursed her powers and vowed never to use them again. Of course, she was only a child but she simply cannot forgive herself.

“It's how Voldemort learned of her. There were several witnesses. It was reported in the muggle newspapers that a young girl's hair turned from blonde to red in the midst of a tantrum at the instant the earthquake began. It took him four years to find them in New York."

Harry felt terrible for Sara, knowing she'd been living with such tremendous guilt. No wonder her hair turned black, he thought. "I understand your concern, Professor. I'll do my best."

"I'm sure you will, Harry. I'm sure you will. I trust you in those matters but there's one more thing that concerns me. Harry, you are both too young-"

Harry became alarmed and interrupted Dumbledore, something he would never do under normal circumstances. "We haven't, um, I mean we've never-"

Dumbledore held up a silencing hand. "None of my business."

Harry relaxed. "Then what is it, sir?"

"You're both too young to be left unsupervised. I go against my better judgment because I believe you to be an honorable young man. You must be responsible, Harry. That is all I have to say on the subject."

"I won't let you down, sir."

Dumbledore only gave him a knowing smile. Harry tried to smile back, but ended up looking at the floor again.

"I expect the four of you had an extraordinary time last night?"

Harry looked up at once. Uh-oh, he thought.

"It came to my attention that Sara had ordered dinner for four to be brought to her rooms last evening. A dinner party! The very thing she needs. Friends, laughter, companionship. Your friends Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger are students I hold in high regard and I approve completely. Only be careful with spirits, Harry. They cloud your judgment and lead to foolish behavior. There are few things worse than regret."

Harry nodded his understanding.

"Unless you have something to add I've nothing more to say."

"Just one thing, sir. The last Quidditch game of the season is coming up. We're playing Slytherin for the cup. I'd like if Sara could go." He lowered his voice. "She could use my invisibility cloak."

"That could be arranged, I think."

"Thank you, Professor."

"I think you know the way out."

Harry stood. "Good day, sir."

"Good day, Harry. Remember what I've said."

Harry smiled and went out, stopping in the passage to fall against the wall and breathe relief. He didn't think things could be any better for him and Sara and couldn't wait to see her so he could tell her everything but he didn't want to interrupt her lunch with Hermione. He wanted them to become friends in the worst way. He would tell her tonight but, in the meantime, he had to tell Ron! Harry hurried off for Gryffindor, walking as fast as he could without running.

* * *

Hermione didn't return to the common room until just before dinner. She was exuberant and dressed in expensive clothes. Her hair was soft and lustrous, her nails long and shiny with a light polish.

"I didn't know she could look like that."

"She looks fabulous!"

"Then tell her!" Harry urged. He smiled as Hermione stopped in front of them, waiting to hear what they had to say. Harry nudged Ron, who looked terrified and dumbstruck.

"Hermione, you look, um… well… kind of beautiful."

Harry rolled his eyes. He waited for Hermione to be offended but she gave Ron a gentle smile instead. The two of them stood staring at each other and Harry felt like a third wheel. Without a word, he went up to his room where he lay on his bed, thinking of Sara and his conversation with Dumbledore.

Harry wondered how he was going to leave for the summer without causing her any more distress. Already the thought of being so far apart brought him great anguish and he dreaded the last day of classes. How would it affect Sara, who was already so troubled?

Harry fell onto his pillow, feeling helpless. He counted the minutes until he could see her every day. Could he really not see as much of her? It didn't seem possible and besides, he thought, it wouldn't help. Their emotional bond had already been forged.

Harry sighed, miserable. What could he do? There were no answers. He would just have to talk to her about it, prepare her emotionally. But now it was time for dinner and Harry got out of bed.

He found Ron and Hermione sitting together on a couch near the fire. By the looks of it, they hadn't broken eye contact since he'd left them. Ron's arm was draped across the cushions behind her. Why doesn't he just do it? Harry thought. He knew Ron was terrified but didn't understand why. It was obvious that Hermione liked him. Ron was the only one who didn't seem to notice. And they didn't notice him as he crossed the room. Harry smiled as he passed behind their sofa. He pushed Ron's arm off the cushion and onto Hermione's shoulders.

Ron turned bright red and erupted with apologies.

Hermione only smiled, demure.

Harry grinned. "Are you two going to sit there all night? It's time for dinner."

Hermione blushed, flustered. "We were just about to go down. We were waiting for you."

"Yeah Harry, you bloody creep!"

"Let's go, then!"

* * *

"I have to go. I've got to talk to Sara."

Ron nodded in understanding. "Tell her I said thank you for dinner."

"I will. I'll see you in the morning."

Harry left the table and headed for the stairs but Professor Dumbledore beckoned to him. The headmaster left the teachers’ table and Harry noticed most of the students still eating were staring at him. Dumbledore put his arm around Harry's shoulders, turning him so their backs were to the multitude of prying eyes.

"Harry, I've been to see Sara. We had a little talk, similar to the one I had with you, but I fear I have upset her. It started to rain shortly after I left."

Harry glanced up at the ceiling, which he hadn't thought to do during dinner, and saw nothing but black thunderheads and dim flashes of lightning. He turned to Dumbledore, fighting the feeling to bolt up the stairs. "I'm on my way to see her now, sir."

"Good. She could use some company. I gave her a picture of her mother that I've had for a few years. I was hoping it would lift her spirits, but now I think we may have that flood before you leave."

"I understand. I'll go right away, Professor."

Dumbledore patted Harry’s shoulder and returned to his seat, slipping into quiet conversation with Professor McGonagall on his right.

As soon as Harry was out of sight he stepped up his pace. He could see the rain outside coming down in buckets and he heard the rumble of thunder overhead. It was a furious storm, one of the worst they'd had. He took the tower steps two at a time and was short of breath when he reached the top. Her door opened for him and Harry hurried into the sitting room. Kicking off his shoes, he went into the bedroom, heading for the roof.

He heard muffled crying halfway across and turned to find her curled up on her bed, the picture Dumbledore mentioned laying next to her on the unused pillow. Sara clutched a tissue in her hand and didn't seem to know Harry was there. The black streak in her hair was wider than Harry had ever seen it and it unnerved him. He went to her and sat down on the edge. "Sara?" He touched her arm with a gentle hand.

"He won't let me leave."

"It's not for long, really. We'll be back before you know it. I'll write to you everyday. It won't be so bad. You'll see."

"It already seems like forever."

"I'll think about you all the time. We’ll all be in touch. Well, maybe not Ron, but Hermione and I will send you plenty of owls."

The rain seemed to slow a little.

"There's nothing I can do. Hermione invited me to stay at her house. She thought the four of us could spend a day together, but Uncle Albus said it wasn't possible. It would have gotten me through, Harry, but to not go anywhere, do anything fun, or see anyone at all..." She cried harder and the rain worsened.

Harry stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. She calmed, though her voice still trembled.

"I'll be alone here for months. I was at my wit's end when I found you and then Hermione and Ron, having sat in silence for half a year in my tower like some messed up storybook princess, drunk and lonely. I had such a good time last night, I felt almost normal again. I can't go back to that. I have to get out of here, Harry. I'm a prisoner!"

"It won’t be easy, but you’ll get through it. Maybe we’ll talk Dumbledore into letting us come for a weekend. Just try to dwell on something positive, not that there’s much of that in this situation." He kissed her and smiled and the rain slowed a little more. "After this summer, we can go wherever we want and do as we please."

Sara sighed. "I hope you're right."

"Believe me; I would sneak you out of here with my cloak in a second if I didn't think you were safest right where you are. No one here will let anything happen to you, Sara. You're in good hands."

"I know where I'm safest and it's wherever you are." Sara sat up and touched the tissue to her eyes. "That thing is afraid of you, not the teachers sleeping down below. That's why it hasn't been back, because you're always here. It will come back and it will come in. I'm afraid of it. More than I've ever been of anything."

"You have to tell Dumbledore. It's the only way!"

"He'll never let me out of here if I tell him!"

"What other choice is there? Sara, be reasonable! How can he protect you if he doesn't know everything? And you won't even close the doors!"

"I'm half Gypsy. I can't sleep without wind and fresh air. It's in my blood."

"Then tell him. Tell him or I will."

Their eyes met for a long moment, hers red and defeated; his resolute.

"Fine. I'll tell him but not until the last day of school."

"Good enough." Harry fell back on the bed. He lifted his head and took the old Muggle photograph off the pillow. "Your mother, I assume?"

"Yes. Uncle Albus had it. He knows how much I miss her." A few fresh tears fell and a light rain spattered the roof outside.

"You look so much alike!"

"I look like her, yes. I always wanted to be like her but I never quite was."

Sara looked at the silent stereo across the room and it came to life, playing soft and low. It was jazz again, the same song Harry first remembered hearing the night they'd met. He'd heard this woman's music many times and it was always soul stirring.

"It's your mother, isn't it?'

"It is. She had the most exquisite voice. I've always loved to hear her sing."

"I loved it the first time I heard it. Just like when I caught you singing that day. Out on the roof? You have the loveliest voice, kind of angelic I always thought. I think Snape was right. Your mother would be proud."

"Snape knew my mother, you know. They went to school together. They were friends before he fell in with the Death Eaters. We had a long journey from New York together and he told me my mother was the only girl in school who was a real friend to him. I think it explains why he's so nice to me. I understand he's not the most popular teacher at Hogwarts."

"Then you heard right. All the Gryffindors despise him. Me in particular."

Sara smiled at last. "He sneers when he says your name. Just like Malfoy does. I think he hates you, Harry."

"I knew that the first time he ever laid eyes on me. He sneers whenever I’m in his field of vision, regardless of whom he’s talking to. Now why don’t we change clothes? We’ll start a fire and have some tea. The night’s turned cold."

Sara squeezed his hand. "Excellent idea.�

* * *
Disclaimer: “Ka-tet� is borrowed from Stephen King’s The Dark Tower

The Girl in the Tower

~

Chapter Three: Playing Dirty

~

The door was yet to be raised and Harry stood astride his broom. "Okay team, we're playing their game today. We're going to win, of course, but let's be brutal."

A loud rumble of approval came room the six players behind him and it was no surprise that Ron’s bellowing voice was loudest of all. They waited to lift off, waited for their cue and the roar of the crowd.

Harry smiled back at them. "Fred, George? This is your last game. Play the way you've always wanted to."

Both brothers raised their hands in sharp salute. "Aye aye, Captain!"

Harry laughed. They did this all the time, even when they weren't playing Quidditch.

Ron sneered. "Yeah, let's give those rotten Slytherins exactly what they deserve!"

Finally, they heard Lee Jordan, the announcer. "Welcome to the last Quidditch game of the season. Gryffindor versus Slytherin!"

The crowd cheered louder.

“Today's game is for the Quidditch Cup! Now let's hear it for the Slytherin team!"

Some clapping and a resounding boooo! filled the stands. The Slytherins, lead by Malfoy, did a quick lap and touched down to meet Madam Hooch.

The door was raised and Harry's team mounted their brooms.

"And now let's hear it for the defending champions; GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry, followed close by Ron, Fred, George, Liam, Molly, and Regina, led his team into the thunderous roar of the crowd. Most of the spectators wore the Gryffindor colors, he noticed, and many held signs bearing blinking words of encouragement and painted lions.

As they did their laps around the playing field, Harry looked for Professor Dumbledore in the top boxes, knowing the empty space next to him would be Sara. He spotted him at last and flew up close, hovering for a moment to smile at the invisible girl. He gave Hagrid a brief wave, and then leaned forward on his Firebolt to take position above the other players, knowing he’d just made himself look like the world’s biggest suck-up in front of the entire school. Harry looked across at Malfoy, who was the Slytherin Seeker and Captain, an honor he hadn't earned, and gave him his most intimidating sneer. Malfoy sneered right back.

"Captains Potter and Malfoy are in position. The teams are ready. Madam Hooch releases the Bludgers and the Snitch!"

The Snitch zipped around Harry, then Malfoy, and was out of sight. Harry leveled his eyes on Malfoy again and this time he smiled and winked. Malfoy looked a bit disarmed.

"And there's the Quaffle! The game begins!"

A Bludger flew past Harry's head and he ducked it just in time. He remained above the field of play but Malfoy moved in closer, never content to just hover and watch. Slytherin had the Quaffle, and one of their Chasers was looking to score.

"And a terrific save by Ron Weasley!"

The crowd erupted and Ron raised a victorious fist in the air.

"The Quaffle is passed to Regina Thomas, who dodges a Bludger. She's about to pass to-- no, she scores! Ten points to Gryffindor! Great fake Regina!"

The Snitch buzzed past Harry and he exploded after it. Fred Weasley saw he was on its trail and fell in to give Harry some cover. Malfoy saw Harry in motion and was quick to catch up, flying side by side. He rammed Harry, who didn’t budge, and Harry slammed into Malfoy on a turn, sending him straight into the stands where he crashed into his own spectators.

"Gryffindor Captain Harry Potter has taken out Slytherin Captain Draco Malfoy! No, wait! He's up! Malfoy is still in the game!"

Fred yelled from behind. "Hard to see the Snitch with blood in your eye, Malfoy!"

"Another ten points to Gryffindor! That's Gryffindor twenty and Slytherin zero!"

Harry saw it was time to put his ultimate plan for Malfoy, who really did have blood running into his eye, into effect. It was sure to work if he was having trouble seeing. Harry let Malfoy catch up, they ran side by side for half a lap, and then Harry went into a perilous vertical dive nearing top speed. Malfoy followed him, speeding up to catch Harry, thinking he was on the trail of the Snitch. Harry came so close to the ground that he actually got nervous, spun around, and shot straight back up into the air. Malfoy, however, was so eager to prove himself the better Seeker, he passed Harry, flying as fast as his broom could carry him, and wasn't able to pull out of the dive. He crashed hard into the ground, screaming and shattering his Firebolt in the process.

Lee was shouting. "The Wronski Feint! I can't believe it! Harry Potter ANNIHILATES Draco Malfoy with the Wronski Feint! Harry Potter RULES!"

Half of the crowd came to its feet, chanting his name.

Harry, his heart beating like crazy, smiled and caught up to Fred Weasley, who was keeping track of the Snitch while he disposed of Malfoy. Fred fell back and, within moments, a Slytherin sixth year was alongside Harry, trying to ram him into the stands.

George Weasley appeared off to the right, fast on the trail of a Bludger. Harry caught his eye and gave him a brief nod. To the Slytherin Chaser's surprise, Harry suddenly went high and George swung at the Bludger, sending it straight at the opposition. The Slytherin saw it coming but there wasn't even time to duck. He fell off his broom and hit the ground with a thud. The Gryffindor crowd cheered their loudest yet while the Slytherin crowd booed and yelled. Yes, it was dirty, Harry thought as he chased the Snitch, but nothing Slytherin hadn't done to them.

"Slytherin Chaser Doug Gorrith is hit by a Bludger and is out of the game! We haven't seen such aggressive play from Gryffindor since, well, EVER!"

Harry knew he had to catch the Snitch soon. Slytherin wouldn't take their losses well and he feared they were already on his trail. He waited every second to be hit by a Bludger. The Snitch dropped as it always seemed to do just as he thought he had it, and Harry went into another vertical dive, following it until it was straighten out or crash. He gripped the broom hard and turned sideways, knocking his head against the ground and leveling out as the crowd gasped.

"Ten points to Slytherin!"

"Come on, Ron!" Harry came up on the Snitch as it rose a little and he stretched for it, still out of reach. He leaned forward as far as he could, trying to push the Firebolt as fast as it would go and he saw the gap between his fingers and the Snitch closing.

Then he heard Fred's voice.

"Watch out, Harry!"

Harry dipped without thought and felt the Bludger skim his shoulder. He glanced up and saw one of the Slytherin Beaters grinning at him and he forgot all about the Snitch. There was something he simply had to do. Harry grinned and sat up as he rode past; his middle finger raised and held out to the Slytherin creep who'd just tried to take his head off. The menacing boy's face went into a scowl and Harry laughed before turning his attention back to the Snitch. Both Fred and George followed suit, displaying the Universal Sign of Discontent as they rode along behind him. The Gryffindor crowd boomed with laughter. Even some of the teachers had to hide their smiles.

"They flipped him off!" Lee shouted in elated surprise. "Half the Gryffindor team just flew the bird at the bloody Slytherins!"

"LEE JORDAN!" came the voice of Professor McGonagall, (who sounded rather amused to Harry), followed by a muffled "Sorry."

He heard the whiz of the Bludger again, then the soft thud of a body hitting the grass a moment later.

"Slytherin loses a Beater! George Weasley sure is dangerous today! Slytherin is down to four players and there's little hope for a comeback!"

Harry was always glad Lee was from Gryffindor House. The biased announcing helped his team's morale, although today Harry felt invincible.

"Ten points to Gryffindor! Regina Thomas fools the Slytherin Keeper with the same fake again! And Gryffindor Seeker Harry Potter closes on the Snitch, having just been missed by a Bludger! And look at that in-your-face save by Ron Weasley! Incredible! Slytherin is really taking a beating! But, wait, wait! He has it! Harry Potter catches the Snitch for one hundred and fifty points! Gryffindor wins the Quidditch Cup!"

The crowd came to its feet and the noise was deafening. Harry held the Snitch high and rose to circle the field with his teammates behind him, their arms raised in celebration and in victory. Harry hovered in front of Dumbledore's box, where Hermione now stood with the space that was Sara. He gave the Snitch a wave, smiling triumphant, and led his team to the ground. Madam Hooch ran over and handed Liam Seever the coveted trophy. Together, the Gryffindor Team lifted it in the air while the crowd cheered their loudest and the field rang with the thunder of applause.

Harry looked to Sara and, since everyone was busy looking at the winning team, she pulled back the hood of the cloak and blew him a kiss.

He smiled until she raised the hood again and was gone.

* * *

Professor McGonagall beamed as she hurried toward him. "Congratulations Harry, congratulations!"

He was just emerging from the team's locker-room celebration, still wearing his Quidditch robe and pads, looking to find Sara as soon as possible.

She took his hand and all but dragged him along, her pace brisk with excitement. "Professor Dumbledore would like to speak to you. Come quickly."

"Is it about Malfoy?"

"No, no. Mr. Malfoy is recovering in the hospital wing, Harry. He'll be just fine. It's only a few broken bones."

As head of Gryffindor House, Harry expected McGonagall to be displeased with the way they'd played but she showed no sign of it. She smiled all the way to Dumbledore's office.

Before speaking the password, she turned to Harry, still smiling. "Well played, Harry. It's about time those Slytherins got a taste of their own medicine. I thought it was brilliant! Even that vulgar hand gesture."

Harry grinned. She looked positively tickled!

"There will be a party waiting in the common room when you're finished, so hurry back."

"Thank you, Professor."

"Ice mice." McGonagall led him through the door, up the steps and into Dumbledore's office. "Here he is, Albus!"

"Thank you, Minerva."

Professor McGonagall left the room and Dumbledore got out of his seat. He offered Harry his hand and Harry shook it, both of them smiling wide. Harry marveled at the truth and wisdom he saw in Dumbledore's eyes. He was much taller than Dumbledore now but he always felt so hopelessly inferior.

"Good job again, Captain. Remarkable!"

"Thank you, sir! We have a great team."

"That you do. And your friend Ron has proven to be a talented edition! Much improved!" Dumbledore grinned, remembering Ron's total lack of confidence. "He made a most incredible save while you were chasing the Snitch. He did some spinning maneuver, hit the Quaffle with the front end of his broom and passed it back to the Chasers! And then he stuck out his tongue!" Dumbledore bellowed laughter. "Harry, your team was most spirited today. Great fun to watch."

Harry smiled. "We knew we could beat them, sir. Fred and George just wanted to have some fun with the Slytherins. You know, give back a little. Actually, we all did."

Dumbledore laughed again. "You certainly did that! And a bit of showing off too, I think."

"Perhaps a little."

"Perhaps, you had someone to impress."

"Thank you for bringing her, Professor. It was great having her there. Besides, how could I lose the Quidditch Cup in front of Sara?"

"How indeed! There is something I wanted you to have, Harry, and I think this is the perfect moment for it." Dumbledore went to his desk and picked up a heavy gold frame, covered in glass. This he handed to Harry.

"Wow!" Harry accepted the very plaque Hermione had pointed out to him the day he'd made the Quidditch team. Originally given to a champion Gryffindor team of long ago, the largest of the seven gold inscriptions read 'Chaser; James Potter'. "I don't know how to thank you, Professor."

Dumbledore smiled with touching sincerity. "You already have. If I'd had a son, Harry Potter, I would want him to be a lot like you, only a little less danger prone I think. That is all the thanks I need."

Harry smiled, touched by the words of the man he most respected. "I'll cherish this, sir. If I ever have a house of my own, I'll hang it right over the mantle."

"And that would be its proper place. Until then, I think you have a party to attend."

"As soon as I see Sara."

"Yes, of course. She's expecting you, I believe."

Harry turned to leave.

"Harry, I wanted to thank you for what you've done for her. She's looking at things a little differently."

"I did my best, sir."

"You always do, Harry."

Harry smiled one last time before passing through the door. He stopped for a moment in the hall to look at the plaque again. This had to be the best day of his life, he thought. The very best day.

* * *

Sara was in her bedroom when Harry arrived and those all-too-familiar butterflies flared up in his stomach the moment he saw her. He thought she looked fantastic, dressed in yet another variation of her favorite gypsy style, bare feet and all, but today there was something different about her. Something that radiated.

She gave him a seductive smile and the butterflies turned to something warmer. "You were incredible. You must be the most exciting person I've ever met, Captain Potter."

Harry hugged the frame to his chest, too afraid he’d forget he was holding it. “I’m exciting?�

Sara took a few deliberate steps toward him. "I felt rather exhilarated watching you dispose of that horrible Malfoy."

She stood before him now and the warm feeling was spreading.

"You're so brave, Harry, so unshakable. And I must say, that uniform is rather sexy." She removed his pads, throwing them on the floor. "I don't know just exactly how long I can keep my hands off you, Captain."

Harry pulled off his Quidditch robe and dropped it, finding it suddenly hot, and hard to breathe. He stood looking at Sara, the warmth in his stomach having enveloped his entire being. His heart was racing. He could feel her breath on his neck, and when she whispered so close to his ear, he could hear the desire in her voice.

"Put your hands on me, Harry."

He kissed her with more passion than he ever had and they fell to the bed without grace. His hands were everywhere and she responded, pulling at his Quidditch jumper and slipping her hands beneath it. Her touch was electric, Harry thought, like low-voltage pressed against his skin. His hands slipped under her clothes and her kiss became a fever, her fingers tangling in his hair…


"Sara. We have to stop."

She sighed her frustration. "I don't care anymore!"

"We promised Dumbledore." Harry rolled onto his back, catching his breath. "Believe me; I've never wanted to be so irresponsible in my entire life."

"It's becoming so difficult." Sara settled her head on his shoulder and threw a loose arm over his chest. He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. "We can't keep this up forever."

Harry rolled onto his side to face her, brushing the hair back from her face as he smiled. “I’m going to miss you, did you know?�

She showed him her most affectionate smile. "I'll miss you, too, but I won't let it make me miserable. I promise."

"As long as you're not drowning yourself with Riesling. It troubles me when you do that."

Sara gave him a resigned nod of compliance.

Harry held her close, dreading the moment when he would leave her, less than two days away. He knew she lied about her sadness, and about the wine, but she meant it at the moment so he said nothing more. It would do no good.

They lay together for a while, quiet, dreaming secret dreams of September until Harry remembered the celebration at Gryffindor Tower. He sat up, alarmed and swift, sending Sara to the bed with a thump.

"Sorry! I have to get to the party! I forgot all about it and they're probably wondering where I am. How long have I been here?" Harry jumped from the bed and hurried to slip on his shoes and grab up his Quidditch gear.

Sara showed him a pleasant smile, head propped on her elbow as she watched him from the bed. "I don't know. Maybe an hour."

"An hour! I was supposed to come right back! McGonagall's going to turn me into a toad for sure!"

"I'll turn you back into a goat, then."

He stopped to kiss her before running for the door. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

* * *

McGonagall shook her head as she pulled Harry into the room. "For Merlin's sake, boy, you've got lipstick all over your collar! And your shoes are untied. You look a shambles!"

Harry thought she must have been hovering near the door, waiting for him. A group of third year girls giggled as he walked by.

One of them smirked. "Nice hair."

Harry felt the tangled, wind-swept mess on his head and remembered Sara's hands had lingered there. He felt self-conscious and wanted to slip away to his room to straighten up. Harry smoothed his hair as best he could, noticing his shirt was half untucked, pulled askew, and sticking out from under his jumper.

McGonagall yelled to the crowded common room. "Attention! Our Captain is finally here!"

Every member of Gryffindor House must have been present and they were applauding him, cheering and passing him bottles of Butterbeer. He shifted his Quidditch gear and the gold frame to his left arm to accept one. Many hands were patting him on the back and congratulations were heard on all sides. Surrounded, Harry smiled and tried to shy away with his eye on the stairs that led to the boys’ dorms, inching his way toward them.

Ron and Hermione appeared before him, knowing better than to ask where he'd been. Harry was thankful for the opportunity to slip into conversation, allowing everyone else to go back to what they’d been doing.

Ron grinned. "Nice lipstick."

Hermione smirked. "Leave him alone, Ron. It's none of our business, you know."

Harry defended himself, his voice as quiet as the noisy room would allow. "Nothing happened!"

Ron grinned again. "Well, something happened to your hair. It's sticking out all crazy like."

"Just help me get to our room."

Ron and Hermione made meaningful eye contact. "We'll be right back. Wait for me?" His hand rested on her shoulder until they turned to go. The smile and the look she gave Ron told Harry all he needed to know.

As they climbed the stairs, having stopped to thank every person who congratulated them on the way, Harry had to ask. "So you finally told her?"

"It was Sara. She sent me an owl. She told me to get over my fear of rejection before Hermione got tired of waiting."

"So? What happened?"

"Well, after the match today I felt like I could do no wrong. So, I just walked up and kissed her. She didn't hit me or anything!"

"It's about time. I was getting tired of watching you two stare at each other."

"Can you believe our luck, Harry? Here we are, Quidditch champions at a celebration in our honor, and we both have girlfriends! Who'd have thought?"

Harry just smiled and dumped his stuff on his bed. He put the framed plaque, wrapped in an old jumper, into his trunk, (noticing his invisibility cloak had been returned,) and found some fresh clothes. He ran a comb through his hair, embarrassed and amused by his disheveled appearance.

"How is Sara? You're leaving in two days."

"She's upset, of course. Dumbledore won't let her out. She wants to stay with Hermione but he said it's too risky."

“Bummer, that is. It’s like she’s in prison or something.�

Harry sighed. "I'm really going to miss her."

Ron tried to smile. "Maybe he'll change his mind."

"Yeah, right. Come on. We'd better get back now."

* * *

The party went on until one in the morning. Harry had such a good time he kept deciding to stay just a few more minutes until he was one of the last students left in the common room. Fred and George were in such a crazy mood that it seemed a shame to leave, especially since they would never be back and Harry would never have this chance again.

Ron said goodnight to Hermione in private and returned to the small gathering with a smile on his tired face. "I'm turning in. Can't keep my eyes open another minute!" He yawned, setting off a chain reaction and then everyone was going to bed.

Harry followed Ron to their room, where the other three boys were already long asleep, and got his invisibility cloak out of his trunk. He sat down on the bed to talk to Ron for a minute before going to meet Sara, who’d expected him hours ago, the cloak draped across his lap.

"Tell me what's going on with you and Hermione." Harry yawned and fell back on the pillow. "Are you together or just thinking about it?" He yawned again.

"We're a couple I guess. We're making plans to spend some time together over the summer. "

Ron stopped talking. Harry was snoring, soft and light, fast asleep. Ron smiled at his friend and then went to the desk and pulled out a quill.

Dear Sara,

Harry fell asleep. I think he was about to go to your tower. He's still wearing his shoes. I thought you would want to know.

Your friend,
Ron

He gave the letter to Hedwig, who seemed glad to have something to do. She flew off straight away, knowing just where to go. Ron fell onto his bed without changing into pajamas. He was asleep within minutes.

* * *

Harry awoke at the first light of dawn as he always did and had no idea where he was or why he was still wearing his glasses. It took a moment to realize he was in his own room, not Sara's, but he could feel her there and could smell her perfume. In fact, she was lying on his arm.

He whispered in the dimness, afraid of waking his roommates. "Sara!" Harry pulled back the invisibility cloak, in which she had wrapped herself. The Marauder's Map was still clutched in her hand. "Sara, wake up!"

Her whisper was heavy with sleep. "Morning, Harry. I missed you last night."

He pulled the blankets up to their necks and she snuggled against him. "You're crazy, coming in here! But I'm glad you did."

"I took off your shoes and pulled the curtains."

"I'm sorry. I was just about to go see you and I was talking to Ron. I must have fallen asleep."

"You did. You must have been exhausted after such a busy day. So what if I had to come to you for once? It's nice to be somewhere other than the tower, anyway. And it's so dangerous."

"Not really. That tickles! I doubt anyone's about yet. This is when I usually come in and I never even need my cloak."

"I should get back now, before I get you in trouble."

"Are you kidding? This is great! There's a girl in my bed. I doubt anyone's tried that one before."

"Hmm. A story for the grandkids?"

"Definitely."

"I'll stay a few minutes but then I really should go."

* * *

Ron, Hermione and Harry were rather subdued as they climbed the endless steps of the tower, having just left the end of year feast where they'd eaten nothing, still dressed in their school robes and black caps. It was their last night at Hogwarts. They were leaving in the morning and each felt terrible for Sara, knowing she would be alone when they'd gone.

Ron broke the silence about halfway up. "How long is Dumbledore planning to keep her here, Harry? Until Voldemort dies? I mean, it's kind of ridiculous, don't you think? She's missing everything."

Harry sighed. "I know. I tried talking to him about it, but he insists. There's nothing more I can do."

Hermione turned to Harry as she climbed. "Dumbledore put spells on your house to keep Voldemort out. Why can't he protect Sara the same way? I mean, she can't even visit! It isn't fair."

"Nothing to do with Sara is fair. She's going crazy, I'll bet."

"She is. She feels like a prisoner. I just wish I could do something. I can't help thinking that Dumbledore's wrong about this."

"Yeah, and who's going to argue with him?"

"Not me."

"Not me, either."

They had reached the door, which didn't open until Harry stepped in front of it. Soft, sleepy music drifted out and they could hear Sara singing along. Ron whispered to his friends. "She sounds better than the recording."

Harry and Hermione nodded their agreement in silence.
Sara had tired eyes yet she smiled and greeted them. She hugged Hermione and
kissed Ron's cheek. Sara was beyond cheerless when she looked to Harry and said nothing, just took his hand and led him to the table, set for their last dinner party. Sara's glass already held wine, although it was half-empty, and the three of them shared a concerned glance. She seemed a little less than steady on her feet and the enthusiasm was gone from her smile. The streak in her hair was more profound than ever and the all-black outfit she wore seemed funeral-like.

Sara took a long drink of her glass and tears seemed about to leak from her eyes as thunder rumbled in the distance. The black in her hair grew as they watched and Hermione sniffled. She was quick to wipe her eyes, but Ron and Harry saw and lowered their heads, feeling the same way.

House-elves entered carrying covered dinner plates, which they placed on the table without a word. They were gone as soon as they'd come and the four of them ate in silence. Sara regarded her food with disinterest, holding her fork without purpose, pushing things from one side of her plate to the other. Often her gaze lingered on Harry.

Hermione moved her chair next to Sara's and took her friend's hand.

Sara smiled. "I'm sorry. It's so depressing, thinking about you all leaving."

"Then you know how we feel. We'll all miss you."

Harry had still said nothing. Most of his dinner was uneaten and he was melancholy.

Sara tossed her napkin on the table. "Let's go in."

Sara led them to a room even Harry hadn't seen before. The furniture was covered with dusty sheets and Sara swept them onto the floor to reveal beautiful parlor sofas of burgundy velvet on which she motioned for them to sit. The moon had risen and shone through the windows, casting the loveliest of shadows. Sara looked to them with the sweetest smile and then went to the corner of the room and uncovered a grand piano. "I thought I might sing for you."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked to each other, astonished. Sara never sang in front of anyone, and whenever they caught her at it, she stopped and acted as if she hadn't been.

Harry gave her his best smile. "We'd love to hear you sing."

Hermione and Ron nodded in agreement and Harry noticed out of the corner of his eye that they were holding hands.

Sara placed a brass candelabra in the center of the piano and held her fingers out to it. Flames leapt from the wicks and she took her seat. She gestured again and a violin lifted into the air, prepared to play as if a musician held it. It hovered there, waiting for Sara to begin.

The first few notes were shaky. Sara was nervous. The song she played was pure sadness as the violin joined the piano and her voice was finally heard. She closed her eyes and her voice grew stronger, more certain, and she found her niche. The room and her friends went away as she poured her soul into her song, and Sara slipped back in time. She was a little girl, sitting in the shadowy corner of a New Orleans lounge, watching her mother perform in a cloud of smoke, her honey voice reaching out in the darkness to the hearts of all who heard. The music was smooth, deep and low, emotional. Sara's voice permeated everything.

She's speaking, Harry thought. She's telling us how she feels. Using the music.

The words told of heartbreak and a helpless loneliness that pulled at the soul until it could be felt and pushed out everything else. It was moving and painful, uninterrupted beauty. It was the saddest thing Harry had ever heard.

* * *

Hermione hugged her friend. "I'll write all the time. I'll send you magazines, catalogs, and books. If you need anything, I can get it for you. Just let me know."

Sara smiled, pulling back to look at her. "That's so sweet of you. And I'll keep at Uncle Albus, if the invitation's still open."

"You're always welcome. I really hope he lets you come."

Sara turned to Ron and hugged him, too. "I'll miss you. I hope you'll keep in touch."

"I will and, when we come back, I hope you'll play for us again."

"Of course."

Ron kissed Sara's cheek and led Hermione out the door, both turning to look back one more time before leaving for good.

Thunder rumbled outside and Harry rushed to console Sara before the rain could start. He heard a light splattering but then it stopped and the thunder seemed to move off. When he looked at Sara, one tear had found its way down her face. He wiped it away.

"So, tell me Harry, what happened at the end of year feast? You didn't eat much at our dinner. You didn't fill up down there, did you?"

"Actually, the three of us left right after the ceremony. Hermione was named Head Girl for next year in advance. They haven't announced Head Boy yet, but it's sure to be Malfoy. And we won the House Cup again, but Ravenclaw almost beat us. Slytherin came in third, having beat Hufflepuff by only a few points. They're really losing their edge."

"Well, when Malfoy's your ring leader... I can't believe Hermione didn't tell me! How wonderful, it's such an honor to be chosen Head Girl! And the fact that they announced it already means it was no contest. I'll have to send her an owl to congratulate her."

"I'm sure she'd appreciate it."

He allowed her to lead him to the couch in front of the fire and they sat together, watching the flames in silence. Harry's arm pulled her closer and she leaned against him, letting the time pass for, in the morning, he would be gone.

* * *

It was close to midnight when they heard a knock at the door. Sara jumped to her feet and motioned for Harry to get out of sight. He concealed himself in the next room where he could still hear and Sara opened the door. It was Snape, to Harry's surprise, and he listened even harder.

Snape took a few steps into the room and sort-of glared at her. "I was planning to visit but, since Potter’s robe is on the back of that chair, I think I’ll limit my stay to less than one minute. Spending the night, is he? You know, Sara, I can't help thinking that your little boyfriend is rather insincere. Seems a pity to waste your virtue on someone who's, no doubt, only looking to line his pockets."

"I assure you, Severus. I don't make such decisions lightly. Besides, he doesn't even know. I think you misjudge him."

"Not if he's anything like his father."

"His father has nothing to do with it! That's not fair."

"I've never had much interest in being fair. Only in being honest."

"Well, as unfortunate as your limited views may be, I will forgive your misjudgments."

"Try to make your mother proud, my dear. Although I'm sure she wouldn't be, come morning." Snape walked into the doorway and then looked back to her, disapproval on his face, disappointment in his eyes. "Good night, Sara." Snape went down the stairs.

Sara hung her head, the comment stinging, wondering if what she was planning was right. She loved Harry, but was this the time?

Harry came back into the room. "What was all that about?"

Sara sat on the sofa with a heavy sigh. "It seems he knows what’s on our minds and he’s made it clear that he doesn't approve."

Harry just looked at her as butterflies, nervous ones, raced around his stomach. “We don’t need his approval, whether he likes it or not.�

"True, Harry. I'm going to get ready for bed." Sara smiled and left the room.

Harry undressed to his underclothing, laying his school clothes over the chair by the bed. He climbed under the covers and pulled them up to his chin, even though the night was warm. His mind raced until Sara returned and joined him. Harry's heart was hammering in his chest.

"Harry, you're shaking."

"So are you." Harry lay on his side, looking across the pillows at her.

She reached over and took his hand, smiling a little in the moonlight. Harry smiled back and moved into the center of the bed where she met him and his arm went around her as her head found its usual place.

"What he said about you're mother, don't listen to him. He knew it would bother you. It's the only reason he said it."

"But what if he's right? What if I should be ashamed and I don't know it?"

"You should do what you know is right."

"Suddenly I'm not sure. I was sure all the way up to this moment."

"You're scared."

"And you're not?"

"Of course I am. Actually, I'm quite terrified."

Sara laughed. "I can't believe it. Not you, Captain. You're not afraid of anything."

Harry propped his head on his elbow and looked down at her, thinking her beautiful, even in the dark. He kissed her, wishing he could calm his nerves, and she trembled under his touch. He whispered and she answered, tangling a hand in his hair, wrapping an arm around his back to pull him closer. A passion was quick to arise between them but their usual frenzy did not. It was sweeter; more affection than physical attraction and Harry caught her eyes, thinking he would have to leave her in only a few hours.

* * *

Harry awoke in the early light to music from another room. It was Sara, playing her piano. Her voice rose and fell and there was none of the morose tone of the night before. This morning her song was bittersweet.

He rose and found the room, dressed only in his t-shirt and shorts and she smiled when she saw him in the doorway, listening. She was wearing the white oxford he wore with his robe and tie to classes, and he thought she looked perfect in it.

The song ended and she walked to where he was as sadness and love radiated from her in a mix of expression. "Morning, Harry."

"Good morning. You know, I never realized how short you were until I saw you in my clothes."

She glanced down at the long, baggy shirt. "I wanted to be close to you but I didn't want to wake you. Sorry."

"It's okay. In fact, why don't you keep it? I've got others."

"I think I'll sleep in it every night until you come back." She glanced at the floor, and then back at him. "You're train leaves in two hours. I wish I could go down to see you off."

"It's probably better this way. I bet I'd make a fool of myself saying goodbye to you."

"Too bad you can't accidentally miss the train."

Harry pulled her into a soft embrace and kissed the top of her head. "Sara," he sighed. "This is so hard."

She clung to him, determined not to cry until after he'd gone. "You were right, you know. It isn't such a long time. I think we'll be all right."

"I'm going to get some money set aside. When I graduate next year, I'll be able to take care of you. I promise."

"We'll deal with that when the time comes."

"It's what I want to do. I'm going to get a job, a Muggle job, and I'll save every penny."

"Don't be ridiculous. Enjoy the summer. You have the rest of your life to work. I insist."

Harry smiled, knowing he would do no such thing. He had his parents’ savings at Gringotts but he couldn’t stand the thought of spending more than a few Galleons at a time. Living off his inheritance, without adding to it, was an idea he wouldn’t even consider.

They had some morning tea on the roof, snuggled together, wrapped in a blanket and watching Hagrid go about his morning chores in the distance.

Sara rested her head against his shoulder. "I don't even have a picture of you."

"I gave Colin Creevey some money at the party. He promised to send me a set of the pictures he took at the Quidditch Cup, so I'll send you one when I get them."

"But you don't have a picture of me!"

"I don't need one."

Harry set down his cup and kissed her. The emotion he was trying to hide flooding him, overpowering everything.

With a great rush of wings, Fawkes hovered above them. He carried a letter but didn't drop it until Harry and Sara moved apart.

"Look at that, a bird with manners."

Harry opened the note, knowing what it would tell him before he ever saw the text. Time was running short and he still hadn't changed clothes for the trip. They would need to take his trunk soon.

Dear Harry,

Please do not miss the train.

Sincerely,
Professor Dumbledore

Harry stood. "It's time, Sara. I have to go."

Sara got to her feet. She held his eyes for a long moment, wanting to say too many things. "I'll miss you."

He pulled her into a close embrace. "I'll write as soon as I get home."

"I'll write as soon as you leave." Sara smiled and kissed him one last time. "Now go. I can't bear to see you walk out the door."

He left her there on the roof, her back to him, thunder rolling in the distance.

* * *

Harry was rushing to meet Ron and Hermione, who waited for him on the far side of the dining hall. He'd made it almost to the head of the Hufflepuff table when Snape stepped into his path. Harry was tall enough to look him in the eye now and it was hard to believe that he was once afraid of him. Snape glared with accusation.

"Interesting night, Potter?"

Harry stopped before him without even a hint of a smile. "Is there something I can do for you, Professor? I don't want to miss the train."

Snape scowled. "I find that hard to believe. Seems unlikely that an upstanding young man - such as yourself - would be so anxious to be... on his way."

Harry took a step forward, closing the space between them. He was finished with the man's vicious insinuations and thought it about time he let him know. He was inches from Snape, who grew incensed by his daring, but Harry stood his ground.

"There will come a day when I'm not a student anymore. I hope you're ready for it."

Snape grinned. "A duel then? This day next year?"

"Nothing would make me happier, Snape."

"You will address me with respect."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "I give respect where it's due."

"You should be careful who you threaten, Mr. Potter. You may find yourself in a situation where your meager intelligence proves no match for years of wisdom, knowledge, and superior skill."

Harry chuckled. "My intelligence, wisdom and knowledge work quite well with my superior skill, actually. See you in September… Snape." Harry walked away and left Snape to glare after him and stew in his own disdain.

Ron and Hermione had watched the exchange from across the room, unable to hear what was said. They waited with impatience until the three of them had settled into a carriage before attacking Harry with a barrage of questions, getting no direct answers.

Ron pushed for information. "We saw the whole thing! What did he say?"

“Come on, Harry! At least tell us what it was about!�

"Nothing really. Just Snape being his usual charming self."

Ron gave up when they reached the platform, to Harry's relief. Most of the students had already boarded and they saw Hagrid ushering the rest onto the train, which would be leaving within a few minutes.

Harry looked to Ron. "Save me a seat. I have to say goodbye to Hagrid."

Hagrid smiled as Harry approached. "Mornin' Harry. Better get on the train soon."

"I just wanted to say so long."

"Ain't seen much of ya lately. Been keeping busy, have ya?"

"I'm sorry, Hagrid. I've been a bit... preoccupied."

"So I've heard. It's a shame, that poor girl bein' hid like that, but if Albus Dumbledore says it has to be, then it has to be. But I'm sure glad she had some company."

Harry smiled. He hadn't known Hagrid was aware of Sara's presence, otherwise he would have taken her out to visit his cabin under the cloak. He noticed Hagrid carried a large umbrella, even though the sky was clear. Harry understood. He was expecting the same rainstorm.

"I'll see you in September. Take care, Hagrid."

"You, too, Harry.� Hagrid lifted a hand and waved. "And you’d better write!"

The train's whistle blew and Harry hurried to the nearest open door. He looked back and waved before disappearing into the car.

He found Ron and Hermione with ease, as Ron was hanging half out of the compartment, looking for him. Harry took his seat with downcast eyes and looked out at the castle, silent. The whistle sounded one last time and they pulled away.

Hogwarts slid out of view.

It began to rain.

* * *

Snape found Sara on the roof, standing in the midst of a furious storm, shaking with cold and overwhelming emotion. Her head hung, her arms were limp at her sides, and her wet hair stuck to her face. He walked to the edge of the overhang, watching, unsure how to approach her. She was despondent, soaked to the bone and the image was heartrending. He realized he'd never despised Harry Potter the way he did at this moment.

At last, Snape ventured into the driving rain and went to her side; putting a gentle arm on her shoulders. "Come inside, my dear."

The fire was cold, but he brought it to life with a wave of his wand. He wrapped her with a blanket and sat her on the sofa. Sara looked at the floor, her stringy hair hiding her eyes. The black, he saw, had enveloped a third of her head.

Snape disappeared for several minutes and returned with a cup of hot tea, which he placed in her trembling hands. She sipped it and lowered it to the table. Music, one of her mother's old recordings, filled the room and he sat at the other end of the couch, his eyes on the stereo.

"It's been years since I've heard her voice. She used to perform for us in the dining hall sometimes after dinner. Everyone loved to hear her sing."

Sara said nothing.

"I was in love with your mother, Sara, but I made the wrong choices. She turned away from me and with good reason. I've never held it against her."

"Then you understand how it feels to lose someone you love." Sara looked to him, her voice choked and unsteady, her eyes reddened from crying. "Yet you pretend you don't."

"I came here to apologize for what I said last night. It was wrong of me to presume to know how Diana would feel. If you want to be a fool it's no business of mine."

Sara was angry and Snape said nothing. “My insincere little boyfriend is more of a gentleman than you know."

She leaned her head against the side of the couch, no longer compelled to look at him, the music growing louder. Snape stayed where he was, humbled, and then left without a word.

* * *

The Girl in the Tower
~

Chapter Four: A Hard Day’s Night

~

His little room looked even more uninviting than Harry remembered. It was drab, hadn't been painted in years, and was no more than a bad memory. His things looked rummaged through and, no doubt, they had been, although he had no real belongings here. Just some old clothes, which were still too big, and a scattering of junk he’d once cherished. All he needed or cared about was locked in his trunk.

Harry opened the room's only window and placed Hedwig's cage next to it, opening the door for her to stretch her wings after the long journey. "Don't go far, girl. You'll have a letter to carry soon."

Hedwig hooted and flew only into a neighboring tree.

Harry opened his trunk, which he no longer kept under the stairs, and pulled out the little box he'd found on his Hogwarts bed. Inside were a quill, an ample supply of parchment and a note, which he unfolded and re-read.

Dear Harry,

I assume you and Sara will be putting the owls to good use this summer, however, I insist you use this special quill and paper. It is equipped with a spell that will not allow your letters to be read by anyone other than Sara, as we cannot risk an interception.

Enjoy the summer,
Professor Dumbledore

He could hear the Dursleys downstairs, arguing about Harry's return. Dudley wanted his father to put the locks back on Harry's door so they wouldn't have to fear his magic in the night. Vernon felt that Harry was old enough to be on his own, he was almost seventeen, after all. Harry couldn't hear Petunia's words, but her hateful tone reached his ears just fine. Harry had had enough.

He went only halfway down the stairs, just far enough so he could see them and they could hear what he had to say. It was his uncle he spoke to, but he wanted them all to listen. His voice was loud and angry as he addressed them. "Do you think I want to be here? Well I don't but I haven't anywhere else to live. I'd stay at school all year if they'd let me."

Vernon narrowed his eyes in warning.

Harry lowered his voice. "I need a job, Uncle Vernon. I need to save enough money so that, when I leave school next summer, I can get a place of my own. I need to learn to drive a car. I don't ever want to come back here again. If you want the same, then help me."

Vernon's expression did a full reversal. "In that case, Harry, I'll see what I can do for you. I have a friend that hires summer help. I suppose I could give him a call. Driving lessons start tomorrow." His tone was almost pleasant, knowing he would soon be rid of his freakish nephew forever.

"Thank you."

Harry went back to his room. He pulled out the enchanted quill and a bottle of ink, and then sat at his desk to compose his letter.

Dear Sara,

I miss you already. I got here only to find that nothing had changed. There is nothing here that I love. I would rather be back at Hogwarts, with you in your tower.

Uncle Vernon thinks he might be able to get me a job. I hope so, even if it doesn't pay much. At least it will get me out of here. I know you asked me not to work, but how can I not? If I'm going to have any hope of being on my own after next year, I have to arrange everything now. I hope you understand why.

Uncle Vernon has also said he will teach me to drive, which is something I look forward to. I know he’d rather be skinned alive than teach me to drive but I knew the idea of getting rid of me might compel him to agree. I was right.

I've been here less than an hour and already our separation is harder than I thought it would be. I can't stop thinking of you and wishing Dumbledore would change his mind. I guess we both know he won't and I shouldn't remind you of it. It does neither of us any good to dwell on the impossible. I hope you're all right, Sara. It was raining when I left.

I look forward to your letter.
Harry

Hedwig was resting on the sill when Harry rose from his chair. "Take this to Sara," he told the snowy owl. "She'll take care of you until she sends her reply."

Hedwig took the letter and was off in a rush of feathers. After she'd gone Harry was even more lonely, the room all the more empty.

* * *

Aunt Petunia drove him to his first day of work and she wasn't happy about it, not in the least. She threw the lunch she'd prepared at him, which he was surprised to get at all.

She dropped him in front of a large office building. "You'll have to find your own way home. I won't be driving you again." She scowled from the front seat.

Dudley scowled, too, but said nothing.

"Your uncle has instructed Mr. Spaulding to sack you if you're late even once, so I suggest you get yourself in there."

"Yes Aunt Petunia."

She drove off much too quickly and Harry looked, nervous, at the towering building. At least it's not the slaughterhouse, he thought. He wore his school uniform, a plain white shirt and dark pants, minus the robe and sweater, with one of Uncle Vernon's old ties. They were the only proper clothes he had. His wand was concealed in his sock.

* * *

Mr. Spaulding eyed Harry with suspicion but seemed tolerable enough after the Dursleys. He sat behind a large desk, cluttered with files and paperwork, studying Harry with a distrustful leer.

"I understand you're not Oxford material, Potter, but that's all right. You won't need much of a brain for the job you'll be doing." He said this as if to put Harry at ease. "But I want to get one thing straight. I don't want any trouble from you. I don't know what they teach you at the school for criminal boys but I won't have it in my office. Is that clear?�

"Yes, sir."

"I don't usually hire your kind, Harry. I'm doing this as a favor to your uncle. He told me you need money for moving expenses, so I was only too happy to help. You won't make me sorry will you?"

"I won't, sir."

"Good. And I won't tolerate slackers. You're here to work."

"I'll do my best, Mr. Spaulding."

"I certainly hope so. I'd hate to have to tell your uncle you'd been sacked." He handed Harry a stack of paperwork, clipped together. "Now, go fill these out and give them to the receptionist when you're done. Someone will be along to show you to your post."

"Thank you, Mr. Spaulding."

He gave Harry a false smile and Harry went out, his self-confidence at less than best.

* * *

The job he was to do turned out to be better than he thought. Not great, but Harry worked alone in a massive underground room of endless files. It was cool in the basement and he was glad of it. He liked the quiet and the solitude. All Harry had to do was find old files and box them up, load them on a cart and take them down the hall to the mailroom for shipment to another office. Then there were the new files, which he had to open and arrange in a certain order before putting them in their proper places on the shelves. It was simple, and Harry’s pace was quick.

The boxes weighed a ton. After a few hours, loading them onto the cart became strenuous and Harry wished he could use his wand. He worked tirelessly and with enthusiasm right through until lunch.

Harry found he was starving and decided to eat outside. Carrying Uncle Vernon's old lunchbox, he made his way to the back of the building where a few picnic tables were scattered about. He found one out of the sun and nearly tore open the box, having not eaten any breakfast in his rush to leave this morning. What he found shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Plain crackers, unwrapped and broken, and a poorly rinsed out mustard jar filled with water. His spirits sank. Harry dumped it into the nearest trashcan and went for a walk.

He figured he could circle the block a few times and the hunger might go away. It gnawed at his empty stomach, begging for any sort of sustenance. Harry had no money at all he realized as he passed a busy deli and it renewed his desire to make as much as he could. He would have to buy his own lunch, which meant he wouldn't be eating until payday. He would also have to buy some new clothes. His first check was already spent.

He turned the corner and passed several businesses before coming to a stop in front of a market. The sign in the window said Help Wanted. Harry went in.

* * *

The walk home took just over an hour. Aunt Petunia was clearing the supper dishes when Harry went into the kitchen, drenched with sweat from his five mile trek and ravenous.

"We didn't think you were coming. Dinner was served at five-thirty."

"Are there any leftovers?"

She smirked. "I had Dudley toss them to the neighbor's dog. You can have an apple if you'd like."

Harry was incredulous. "Aunt Petunia! I'm starving! I've had nothing to eat since yesterday!"

"I seem to remember handing you a lunch this morning, unless I'm mistaken."

Harry lost his temper. "You call that a lunch?! A few crumbs and some water? They eat better in prison!"

Petunia sneered, her ugly face contorted with disgust at the sight of him. "Then perhaps that's where you belong! You'll watch your tone in this house. And you'll be thankful for our generosity before you and that repulsive owl find yourselves out with the trash."

Harry seethed, but took the apple and sat down at the table with it.

Uncle Vernon bellowed as he entered the room. "What's all this noise about?"

"That boy," Petunia said and tilted her chin at Harry, her hands in a sink full of dishes. "He's so ungrateful. It's sickening the way he just barges in here, complaining about the food he's given."

Vernon cast Harry a warning glance. "There will be no more complaining out of you."

Harry looked at the pitiful apple and sighed. "I didn't mean to, Uncle Vernon. I'm just so hungry."

"Make a sandwich then, but stop pestering your aunt."

Harry leapt from the table and ran to the refrigerator before either of them could change their mind. He took two slices of bread and piled anything he could find onto them.

Petunia glanced over her shoulder. “Don't go cleaning us out."

Harry sat across from Vernon as he devoured the sandwich, chewing as fast as he could without drawing attention. When he was done his uncle looked up from the evening paper.

"Mr. Spaulding called, Harry. He seemed quite pleased with you. He said you were no trouble and that you'd managed a bit more work than the average summer help."

"He did? He said that?"

"It's a good thing. I'd hate to be you if the report was negative." Uncle Vernon raised an eyebrow at Harry, another warning. "You'll do best to keep it up."

"I will! I don't really mind the work. The boxes are heavy but I manage them all right." He turned to his aunt, who was busy putting away dishes. "Aunt Petunia, if it isn't too much trouble, would you mind setting aside a plate for me for awhile?"

She half smiled. "That's better, Harry. I'll see what I can do."

"It's just that I got an evening job and I won't be home until late. I can't afford to buy lunch or dinner until I get paid."

Vernon sat up. "An evening job? I must say, Harry, you are most ambitious this summer. You must really hate it here in our home." Vernon smiled over the paper, as though this thought pleased him a great deal.

Harry had a lot to say to that remark but kept it to himself. It would do no good to get them all riled up again. "There's a market around the corner from the office. Trucks come in around six and they need someone to unload them. It's during the week and they'll let me work until eleven."

"That's excellent, Harry! A good day's work never hurt anyone. Perhaps you'll find it so enjoyable you'll forget about all this other nonsense. Magic tricks." He shook his head. "Now get changed, boy. I won't wait all night. I'll be in the car."

Harry had forgotten all about his driving lessons. He'd just have to do it on the weekends. As for now, he couldn't wait to get behind the wheel!

* * *

Harry slipped into the kitchen before going to bed and grabbed an apple and two cookies, wrapped in a paper napkin. He would save them for lunch the next day, just in case he got prison rations again or nothing at all.

He thought about his first, and rather substantial, three-hour long driving lesson. Uncle Vernon decided that Harry was "a natural," a duck in water, and taught him all he could saying "No reason to drag this out, Harry." Vernon also said he'd pick up some literature on road rules that Harry could read in his spare time and then they would go out again over the weekend.

Harry was more exhausted than he'd been in a long time. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so tired. His muscles ached all over. His back was painfully sore and all he wanted to do was go to sleep.

There was a brown barn owl on the back of his desk chair when he went into his room, a letter on the desktop. “Captain� was all it said in long, slanted script. Harry's heart leapt and he smiled. He carried the owl to Hedwig's cage and it climbed onto the perch.

Harry sat on his bed with the letter, restraining himself from tearing it open. He couldn't wait to read her words.

Dear Harry,

Hedwig arrived this morning and we had some toast together. She's just fine, but anxious. I think she wants to get back to you but I decided she should rest before the trip. I will send her back with my next letter.

I wrote to you a short time after you left but decided not to send it. Too sappy and depressing. Severus had come to visit and I couldn't take his biting remarks anymore. I was a bit short-tempered with him but I believe he'll think more about what he says. (For a while, anyway.) Sometimes I think you're right about him but I've seen a different side, too.

I'm glad to hear your uncle was willing to help with the job. I'll say again that you don't have to work. I wish you would trust me, Harry. Spend the money you earn if you just want to get out of the house. Don't let them get you down. It's only for the summer and then you can say goodbye to them for good. You'll never have to see them again.

Now that the students have gone home I am allowed to walk freely about the castle and I get to eat meals with Uncle Albus and Hagrid. (Can you believe they sit alone in that enormous dining hall?) Filch is still here, too, but he sleeps most of the day, which I am glad of. The man is a little frightening sometimes.

I am allowed outside and spend most of my time wandering the grounds. I can't remember the last time I felt grass under my feet! Today I went to the edge of the Forest and visited with a unicorn. It was amazing! All I did was sing this song my mother taught me that's supposed to bring them and it worked! It was so refreshing to be out in the sunshine and in the presence of such magnificent beauty. It helped my spirit immeasurably.

I got an owl from Ron today, (such a pathetic little bird that is,) and he sent some cookies his mother made. He said he's also gotten a job, helping his father at the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, which he'll start tomorrow. His twin brothers are planning to expand their joke shop in Diagon Alley and he's helping them raise the money. It's so nice of him. He even gave up the chance to go to Romania.

Hermione also wrote and sent me some magazines. She bought a blank book and plans to fill it with her favorite spells, charms and potions. I showed her my mother's during the first lunch we had together and she's been fired up about it ever since.

It's hard to believe the three of you have only been gone for two days! Already it seems like forever. I don't have much to do here except write letters, wander around and bother Uncle Albus. Hagrid has invited me to his cabin later to feed the blast-ended skrewts and I can't even tell you how I'm looking forward to it.

Perhaps I should make a book, like Hermione. I know a lot of good spells and I can gather more in the library. It would keep me busy for a while. But now, I must go to dinner.

I miss you, Harry. I slept in your shirt last night and woke up at dawn, only to find you weren't there. There's an emptiness, a void, and it's hard to bear but I'll get through the days, and the nights, because you asked me to.

Sara

Harry wanted to sleep but got Dumbledore's box of paper anyway. It would have to be short. It was almost eleven and he'd have to get up early if he was to walk five miles and be at his post on time. He dipped the quill in the ink.

Dear Sara,

It's great that you can leave your tower! And it's easier for me to think of you shoeless on the grass, singing to unicorns, rather than drinking endless glasses of wine, apart from all the world. It's a happier image and quite a relief for me. Hagrid is good company but I can't say as much for the skrewts.

I think your spell book is a good idea and I'm glad Hermione's making one. She knows millions of spells. She seems to remember every word she reads. It will end up being about ten volumes long, if I know her.

I had my first driving lesson today and I did rather well. I can't park yet, and backing up was a bit rough, but I could handle the steering and work the peddles just fine. It won't be long until I can get my driver's license and next year we'll go for a ride to the coast together. I picture myself in a rusty old clunker with mismatched doors and a broken muffler, spewing stinky gray exhaust out the tailpipe. I know you deserve better and, someday, I will get it for you, even if I have to work eight days a week and sleep only on my lunch hour.

My job is all right. My new boss told Uncle Vernon I was doing well and that makes me happy. All I have to do is box old files and put the new ones on the shelves. It's not rocket science but I'm finally making money. On Friday, I shall receive the first Muggle pound I've ever had! I can only hope you're proud of me.

I'm sorry this is so short. It's late and I have to get up before dawn but I wanted you to know how much I miss you. I think of you all the time, wondering how you are and if you're as lonely as I am. The past two days have seemed like ages, but I'll get through each one to come just by knowing that you're there, thinking of me, too.

Harry

As Harry was folding the letter, another owl flew in through the window carrying a package, which it dropped in Harry's lap. It landed on the chair and Harry carried it to Hedwig's cage. The barn owl Sara had sent seemed perturbed by the new owl's presence and hooted in protest.

"Well it's not your cage, either!"

He hurried back to the package, yawning while he unwrapped it, not recognizing the scratchy handwriting on the outside. He smiled as soon as he saw it was from Colin Creevey. The pictures from the Quidditch Cup! At once, he felt more awake and flipped through them, searching for one of himself. There was one he liked a great deal. One the team had posed for. He and Ron holding the cup between them with Fred and George behind it, each with an arm around the two female Chasers, Regina and Molly. Liam Seever lounged on the ground in front, his head propped on one hand, Harry's Firebolt in the other. They were all smiling, elated, and it made him happy just to look at it. Harry longed to be back at Hogwarts. And he longed to ride his Firebolt again.

Harry propped the picture against his lamp, deciding to have it enlarged when he had some money, and went back to the others. He found the one he wanted near the bottom and pulled it out. Colin, who used a Muggle camera, had insisted he take a shot of the Team Captain alone and had made him pose with his broom in one hand and the Quidditch Cup under his arm. Harry remembered feeling rather foolish but Colin was more talented than he'd thought. The picture was great! Colin kept insisting Harry smile but he hadn't felt natural and Colin knew. He didn't take the picture until Ron stood off to the side and made faces until he’d laughed. Sara would love it, so he enclosed it with her letter.

Harry put the rest of the pictures into his backpack, along with the box from Dumbledore, some old clothes and the little bit of food he'd taken from the kitchen. He made sure his alarm was set for six a.m. before getting into bed and looked at his winning team one more time before turning out the light.

* * *

Friday came quicker than Harry expected, having been working from eight to five at the office and then six to eleven at the market, which had turned out to be back-breaking labor. He preferred his evening job, though. He liked the other employees and the fact that he didn't have to say he went to a school for criminals. He usually worked with three or four other people so he rarely got an opportunity to use his wand instead of his muscles. The exhaustion he felt after his long walk home was sometimes overwhelming.

Harry spent his lunch hours at the office writing to Sara. Otherwise, his letters would have been a few tired lines at best and he knew she awaited his owls. He didn't want to leave her disappointed. Besides, the lunches he got from Aunt Petunia only took a moment to eat, so he didn't bother going out to the tables behind the building. There were no more crackers, but a cheese or peanut butter sandwich, an apple and a thermos of water. It still left him hungry but it was better than nothing. Come Monday, he thought with a smile, he would buy his lunch at the little deli across the street. After that, he would buy some supplies and fix his own lunches at home. And he had to eat dinner between jobs. He could no longer suffer through until he got the child's portions Aunt Petunia left for him in the oven.

Harry fell onto his bed at twelve-thirty, too pleased with himself to sleep. There were letters from everyone on the desk and the tree outside was full of owls. Ron, Hermione, Hagrid and Sara had written. He wouldn't answer any of them tonight, though, except one. He was excited to write to Sara, since he hadn't at work, and tell her all about his day. But first, he would read her letter.

Dear Harry,

Congratulations! Happy Payday! How does that Muggle money feel in your pocket? I can't believe you actually wondered if I would be proud of you. Harry, I would be proud of you no matter what. How could I possibly love you more?

Make sure you spend some of that money on yourself. You deserve it after all. My father worked on Wall Street in New York and he said office jobs were terribly mundane. (He always wanted to do something different but never got the chance.) I hope you're not wasting your evenings. You should get out and do things. Go to see some movies at least. You never mention what you do after work.

As for me, things have taken a turn. Uncle Albus found out I was visiting the unicorns and strictly forbid me to go anywhere near the forest. He says dark things lurk there. Well, they do but so do beautiful things! I cried for hours afterward and wouldn't speak to him at dinner. I think I upset him and I feel terrible but he doesn't understand. He's trying to protect me but he's hurting me, too.

Harry, he took my bottle of Riesling. What does he expect me to do? The castle was fun to explore but it's mostly empty rooms! Though released from my tower, I'm still so alone. Even the Marauder's Map is boring, the same three names going who cares where. I used to look at it for hours, following names from place to place. I actually think I liked it better before. True, I could only leave the tower for short periods of time, but at least there was some life in the castle. I guess that's what happens when a thousand people leave a place. There's simply nothing left but ghosts. The days here are centuries long and the nights; well, they're just empty.

I still sleep in your shirt and am so glad you let me keep it. I feel so close to you while I wear it. It's one of the few things that bring me comfort. I look at your picture every night and miss you even more. I can't wait to see you again.
Love,
Sara

Harry sighed. Her letter had started out so well, only to end with desperation. He was glad Dumbledore had taken her bottle of wine, Harry hated the way she drank away her misery and thought it best for her. But why forbid her to see the unicorns? She wasn't going in the forest, only standing on the edge of it as every Hogwarts student had done at least once. He himself had been sent into the trees when Voldemort was a threat to him, (and he'd encountered him there,) but Dumbledore hadn't forbidden that! Something wasn't making sense. Sara had promised to tell him about the hooded figure that came in the night so he was sure she had. Obviously, someone knew she was there. Someone Dark and threatening enough to cause pain in his scar. Why worry about the forest? After all, Sara could handle herself if trouble came about, just as she'd handled Malfoy.

Harry took out his enchanted quill and wrote his reply.

Sara,

I'm sorry about the unicorns. I know you love them and it makes no sense to keep you from them. I’d think Dumbledore would permit you anything that could lift your spirits the way they do. After all, he let me visit your tower for that very reason. There must be something he's not telling us. I doubt he would refuse you happiness without reason. Don't be too hard on him.

You couldn't have explored the entire castle in just over a week! Keep looking! Also, spend as much time as you can in the library. Work on compiling spells for your book; it will fill some of the hours. Spend your time, Sara. Don't waste it. You're more or less stuck there so you might as well make the most of it.

Today, on my lunch hour, I went to the bank near the office and opened an account. I'm so thrilled! I've got money saved already! I kept a little for myself but it's the savings that make me happiest and I look forward to next Friday with even greater enthusiasm.

I'm tired now and have three letters to read before I can sleep. I don't have to work tomorrow, so I will write you a longer letter then and tell you all about my second driving lesson. (I've studied the book on road rules all week and I think I know it verbatim. It won't be long!) It doesn't really matter if it takes all summer. I won't have a car to drive until next year anyway. It's just that I'm excited about it.

Keep your chin up, Sara. We'll be together soon. I miss you as always.

Harry

Harry gave the letter to Hedwig, along with a tiny gold bracelet he'd found in a boutique. There were a few little purple gemstones on it and Sara loved purple. He’d thought of her the moment he saw it, walking past between jobs. He’d taken most of the money for it from his food allowance but he'd wanted to give her something nice, something special to cheer her up. Being denied unicorns had to be a terrible loss for Sara and Harry could only imagine how deeply it had affected her. He wanted to rescue her from such loneliness, take her out of the castle and back into the world where she longed to be. He would have to settle for making her smile.

Harry went to the window, inhaling a strong breeze, having just drifted into his room. There was a scent that drew an easy smile on his face and he closed his eyes, resting his elbows on the sill. Her perfume on the wind, an ancient Gypsy infusion, rich with spices. Ginger, sandalwood, and something light and airy. It was the essence of everything Sara.

He could hear something. It was faint and far away but he could just make it out. Her voice, carried on the wind. She was singing.

* * *

Harry awoke from a seamless, heavy night of sleep. It was a dreamless sleep, like that of the dead, and he felt refreshed. He wasn't surprised to see it was noon, especially since he hadn't gone to bed until two in the morning. What he couldn't believe was that the Dursleys hadn't tried to get him up. Or maybe they had?

One of the school's owls was on the back of his chair when he sat up and Harry jumped out of bed at the sight of it. Sara always sent her owls just before dinner, so it must be something important for her to write again so soon. He broke the seal with care and dropped back onto the bed with the letter.

Dear Harry,

Thank you for the bracelet. It's beautiful and I love amethysts. I'll wear it everyday, of course. You shouldn't be spending your money on me, though. (Have you even gotten yourself anything yet?) I was so surprised when I opened it. I couldn't stop smiling and kept looking at it. You really managed to brighten the evening, especially one as horrible as last night.

Uncle Albus has really gone too far. I cried all night and through breakfast. I can look out and see Hagrid going about his chores in the rain and I feel terrible but I can't seem to stop. Harry, my last and most important freedom has been stripped from me. The thing that made it all bearable. How does he expect me to sleep? I need fresh air to drift into my room at night, I always have! He made me close the doors. He even put a spell on them not to open until dawn! I don't know what to do. I feel like I'm suffocating.

Last night I wedged open one of the windows in the music parlor and slept on the piano. I will keep this window open at all times, so instruct Hedwig to bring your next letter there. It's where I'll be.

Harry, I never told Uncle Albus about the hooded figure. I promised you I would and I'm sorry but, in the end, I couldn't do it. It was because I was afraid of this very thing!

I'm losing it, really. I don't know how much longer I can stay here. Not like this. Something has to change or I'll lose my mind. I think you are probably the only thing that keeps me sane.

Love,
Sara

Harry sighed. What was he to do? And what was Dumbledore keeping from her? He got out his quill.

Dear Sara,

I think Dumbledore found out about the stranger. It's the only logical explanation. I know you're upset but he's right. I've hated the fact that you left the doors open with such a threat lurking just outside. If it fears me and not the teachers then closing the doors is more important than ever. I can't protect you at all from here.

Try to remember that Dumbledore only wants to keep you from harm and from having to display your power, confirming what Voldemort already believes to be true. You have to hang in there. It won't be long.

I can't write much now. I'm hungry and if I miss lunch then Aunt Petunia won't let me have anything else. I'd have to walk to the deli near where I work to get a sandwich and my feet can't stand the thought. I think I'll stick around here today and work on my own spell book. After a little thought, I decided we should all make one, if we can convince Ron that is. They would be ka-tet, like the four of us. You never know, great wizards like us could be the legends of the future! Well, maybe.

I think we need to employ more owls. I also wish we could use floo powder so we could visit each other but, as it turns out, neither one of us can. My house isn't on the circuit and Hogwarts is blocked. Apparating would be nice if either of us could manage it but the school is protected from that as well. Believe me, I've thought of everything, including riding my broom and that insane bus that picked me up once. Simply nothing is doable.

I will write to you again later, after I have eaten and had my driving lesson. Don't be mad at me for siding with Dumbledore. I think he's probably the wisest person alive. I would do whatever he asked and so should you. He only wants to keep you from harm and I do as well. For all the same reasons.

I miss you.
Love, Harry

* * *

Sara's letters changed over the next three weeks. They grew more distressed, and Harry was starting to worry about her. She no longer sounded like herself. She was going mad with boredom, her owls ranting and incredibly long. She was no longer allowed to sleep in her tower or even go there after dark and many of her belongings had been moved to a large, square chamber with no windows and one heavy door. She was not allowed to wander the castle alone and was to remain in the new room after Dumbledore retired for the night.

Harry got the idea that something had happened, probably the night Dumbledore closed the doors to the roof, through slips she made when she wrote frantically. He always knew when this was because her usually neat, flowing script became run-on sentences and misspelled words in quick, messy hand. Ron and Hermione sent owls, insisting he do something. He had written to Dumbledore several times with concerns about Sara's state of mind and had asked extensively about the reasons behind her lack of fresh air, which Harry knew was her biggest problem. She was claustrophobic, he'd explained to Dumbledore, who wouldn't give a precise answer.

Harry sat on his bed, holding her most recent letter, only just arrived with Hedwig. It was light, not one of the long, rambling ones, and Harry wondered if that was good or bad news. He was almost afraid to open it. Finally, he did.

Dear Harry,

I know you're going to be upset with me but I'm leaving Hogwarts the second the spell wears off the door at daybreak. I can't stay here another moment if I am to remain of sound mind. He keeps me prisoner in here and my room is a cell with stale, dead air and no sky to speak of. All I do is read books, which I am thankful for, and pace the floor.

To make matters worse, Uncle Albus has written to Severus, asking him to return at once. If I don't get out of here before he arrives, I won't stand a chance. He's to sleep in the room across the hall.

I will contact you soon but you may not hear from me for a day or two, so don't worry. I can protect myself just fine if I have to. I think you know that. I will see you soon.

Love, Sara

Harry read the note three times, wondering what he should do. It was morning. Sara would have left hours ago. How far could she have gotten since dawn? Questions raced through his head but there were no answers. All he could do was wait for some word from her.

He folded the letter and went down for a quick lunch. He had two lawns to mow today as well as flowers to plant, three trees to prune, mulch to lay and a garden to weed. Then he had to paint a fence in the afternoon. It was a lot to get done but he didn't mind as long as he was outside and not with the Dursleys. Plus the extra money allowed him to get some much-needed clothes. He didn't want to look so drab next to Sara and Hermione when he went back to school. Most of what he had was being ruined at the market and in the neighbors’ yards.

Mr. Spaulding at the office had given him a raise. He'd even gone so far as to say that Vernon had misjudged Harry, criminal or not. He'd called him intelligent and a good, hard worker. Harry had never been so proud of himself, not even after winning the Quidditch cup! Impressing this man, who believed Harry to be of a terrible sort, was nothing short of amazing with his reputation as 'tarnished' as it was. Uncle Vernon was still angry with him for 'making him look bad' but Harry didn't care what he thought anymore. Harry was now a licensed driver. All he had left to accomplish was making as much money as possible so he would never have to see their faces, or endure their constant humiliation, again.

He had socked away a good amount of money so far. All of his office check and all of his pay from the market, minus whatever he spent on food during the week. He had learned how to spend only a small amount of money eating. Harry bought his dinner at the market’s hot counter between jobs and ate in the break room. He packed his own lunches at home to avoid the deli, as much as he liked it. He was beginning to relax, knowing it would be possible to, over the course of this one summer, save a sum substantial enough to put him at ease.

Harry wasn't at ease now, though. He thought of Sara all day as he went about his work and couldn't sleep that night, wondering if she was safe in the dark, wherever she was. He'd sent Hedwig with letters for Ron and Hermione, filling them in and asking if they'd gotten any owls from her. If they did, he asked that they send him a message at once.

Harry had to work in the morning, but he worried long into the night, imagining he could smell her perfume on the night breeze.

* * *

Three days passed without a word.

Not from anyone.

Then Hermione called.

Dudley had given her the number at the market, no doubt with the hopes of getting him in trouble, and she'd called him there. She grilled him about having yet another job, and he admitted to only working a few nights a week but Dudley had already told her everything. She seemed concerned, so he said he just needed to stay out of the house. This she accepted, knowing his history with the Dursleys.

Hermione said she'd heard from Sara and that she was fine. Harry had bombarded her with rapid-fire questions but she either wouldn't answer or didn't know. What she'd called for, as it turned out, was to invite him for a weekend with Ron.

They would be picking him up Friday at six, which meant he had to get the night off and hurry home if he had any hopes of showering before they arrived. He'd left a note on the manager's desk and planned to call a taxi from the office that day. He couldn't wait to see them. He'd been so busy he'd barely even written to his friends all summer. What little time he did find usually went to Sara.

* * *

The days crawled by.

Every hour at work seemed like a week. The only time that seemed to fly was the few hours Harry spent asleep. He was exited to see Ron and Hermione but he missed Sara and her letters, always addressed to Captain. And he missed writing to her. He no longer had anyone to which he could describe his day or vent his frustrations. Even Hedwig seemed depressed and restless.

Finally, Friday arrived and Harry suffered through the long, long, day.

He found the taxi waiting to take him back to the Dursleys’ and showered as fast as he could manage. The Dursleys waited, curious, at the windows while Harry was still in his room, packing. He brought most of his new clothes, though he wouldn't need them all, and a few other miscellaneous items. He was glad he'd bought a new backpack so he wouldn't have to be seen with Dudley's old one, full of holes and stained. He made sure he had his credit card, which Uncle Vernon had advised him to get, (but not use,) and enough cash to get him through the weekend.

The doorbell rang and Harry bounded down the stairs, not wanting to subject his friends to Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, or worse, Dudley.

They beat him to it, getting to the door as he was still half a flight up.

"We're here for Harry," he heard Hermione say. He couldn't see her, though, because the Dursleys were all crowded in the doorway, blocking his view.

"Wow," Dudley whispered, staring out from behind his parents.

Harry was at his side, trying to squeeze through. Dudley wouldn't budge. He was enrapt, fascinated, and Harry wondered what new beauty spells Hermione might have found.

Aunt Petunia was asking her questions and Hermione was being polite, more so than usual, and Harry was thankful. He wanted the Dursleys to be nice to his friends.

Harry yelled through the barricade of shoulders. "Hermione!"

"Harry! Come out! I've got a surprise for you!"

The Dursleys had to move at this point, as they could no longer pretend he wasn't behind them.

Uncle Vernon stepped back at last. "Harry! You've got visitors!"

Dudley stayed where he was but Harry squeezed through - and there was Sara, smiling on the step.

Harry dropped his backpack and threw his arms around her.

Sara laughed and clung to him and then pulled away to give him a quick, discrete kiss.

Harry smiled with his entire being and stood looking at her, holding her hand in his.

"Harry! Uncle Albus let me go!"

"That's great! But how? I mean, I thought you left?"

"I tried to but Severus intercepted me. He'd arrived during the night. I barely got out the front door."

"So he took you to Dumbledore?"

"I told him I was leaving, with or without his help or permission."

"You really said that? To him?"

"I wasn't going back to that room," she said and lowered her eyes. "Something had to change. I'm missing out on my life."

"That's what I was trying to explain to him."

Sara gave him a sweet smile. "He told me you’d been sending him owls." Sara wore a conservative white dress with a pink rose print. Her pretty blond curls were pulled back in a ponytail that swung and bounced as she talked. "I'm staying with Hermione but I have to be back Sunday night. I'll return on the train with Severus."

Vernon cleared his throat. "Now Harry, aren't you going to introduce your friends?"

Harry knew they didn't care who his friends were, they were only curious about Sara. "Uh, well, yeah, sure. You remember Ron Weasley, of course, and this is Hermione Granger." Ron waved from where he was and Hermione said it was a pleasure, though her tone was rather dry and her smile forced. "And this is my girlfriend, Sara Lemke.�

Dudley whispered from behind his parents. "Girlfriend!?"

Sara smiled and shook hands. "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Dursley, Mr. Dursley."

Ron moved in for a closer look. "Harry? You really don't look so good, mate. Have you been ill?"

"No."

Hermione tipped her head as she considered Harry’s appearance. "You're right, Ron. He does look a little gaunt. You're thinner, and Harry, you've got dark circles under your eyes."

Vernon answered before Harry could come up with an excuse. "Well, he's been working fourteen hours a day! He leaves just after sun-up and doesn't drag himself in until after midnight. He's a gardener on the weekends. It's almost as if he doesn't even live here!" Vernon smiled at this last.

"Fourteen hours?! What the bloody hell are you doing all that for?"

"I just wanted to save some money. That's all."

Sara touched his arm and whispered. "Harry, I didn't know at what point I should tell you this but I have money. You don't have to work. Ever."

"It doesn't matter. I need to have my own."

"We’ll discuss it later.�

Harry glanced at the ground and then smiled at her.

Vernon turned his deliberate gaze on Harry and Sara's intertwined fingers. "Now, I want to know what sort of supervision there's going to be on this trip."

Petunia put a hand on her hip. "Yes, where will you be staying? And what sort of sleeping arrangements are there?"

Sara took a step forward to address their questions. It was clear to her friends she'd taken offense to their insinuations.

"Well, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, when we arrive in London we'll be staying at The Leaky Cauldron, which is one of our places. We have rooms reserved there."

Vernon and his wife tried to stare her down. "And where, exactly, is this leaking whatever?"

"You wouldn't be able to find it, even if we gave you an exact map. You would never see it."

Not wanting to have that sort of conversation in view of the neighbors, Petunia narrowed her eyes at Sara and lowered her voice. "And I suppose you expect us to believe that you'll be sharing a room with the other young lady?"

Sara's tone was growing angry, though she still offered them a pleasant smile. "Believe it or not, Mrs. Dursley, magic doesn't mean lawless. Hermione and I will be sharing a room, as will Harry and Ron, and Professor Snape, our chaperone, will occupy the room between us. Besides, my uncle, Albus Dumbledore, Order of Merlin and Headmaster of Hogwarts, who arranged this trip for us, told me Harry was honorable and that he had the utmost confidence in him. It's a shame you don't seem to share his views."

Harry felt he should say something to get Sara to stop glaring at his Aunt Petunia. The black streak in her hair had faded to one thin lock but he could see a few crimson strands sprinkled in and more appeared every second. He went to her side and put a reassuring hand on the small of her back. "Professor Snape hates me."

Aunt Petunia muttered. "Who wouldn't."

Ron came onto the step and rolled his eyes. "He hates all of us, except Sara. He seems quite fond of her."

Harry, Hermione and Sara burst into laughter.

Ron grinned. "I suppose it is rather silly, thinking Snape fond of anyone."

Sara glanced at her watch. "Speaking of Severus, we'd best be off. I'd hate to worry him unnecessarily."

Harry chuckled. "Hard to imagine, Snape worrying."

Ron snickered. "Well, I'll bet he's not very nice if you've made him worry. We probably should get on our way."

Harry grabbed his overstuffed backpack off the step and turned to leave. He stopped after only half a step. "Where did you get that? How? Whose is it?"

Sara grinned. "I rented it. It's supposed to be a nice weekend. I thought we'd enjoy having the top down."

Harry smiled wide. It was thrilling enough to be going on a weekend trip with his friends and that Sara was with them but they were going in a luxury Mercedes convertible, red, with chrome wheels and leather seats. The sort of car most people dream about but never get to experience firsthand. He was even more elated when Sara tossed him the keys.

"Are you serious?"

Sara grinned again as she made her way to the passenger door where Hermione and Ron were climbing in. "Let's go, Harry!"

Harry threw his bag into the boot, which was overloaded, and hurried over to help Sara into the car. She gave him another quick hug and slid into the seat, holding onto his hand. Harry closed the door for her and turned to wave to the Dursleys, who had ventured onto the step. Dudley still appeared awestruck. Harry held up the keys to the car and mouthed the words thank you to his uncle, who gave a brief, uncomfortable nod.

Harry slid into the driver's seat and started the engine, loving the feel of the expensive leather. He looked at Sara, who smiled at him from the passenger side. "You know, this is the first time I've ever seen you in shoes."

* * *

The Girl in the Tower

~

Chapter 5: Flashes of Providence

~

Sara dropped onto the bed. "I wanted to stay in a nice hotel, but Severus wouldn't hear of it."

Harry smiled. "I don't care where we stay."

"I feel the same way, Harry. It doesn't matter."

Harry lowered his eyes and studied the bed cover. "Besides, the Leaky Cauldron is good enough. And the rooms are cheap. I doubt I could afford to pay even a fourth of what a Muggle hotel would want. Especially a fancy one. Ron, either."

"We have plenty of money at our disposal."

"But it's your parents’ money. You should save it. I've got plenty of wizard gold myself, you know."

Sara laughed. "I've got more money than I could ever spend, so it looks like I'm going to need some help. After all, Hermione and I can only wear so many new clothes."

"Hermione! She let you buy her things?"

"Not at first. In fact, she said the same thing you did. She didn't give in until I explained that I hated the money, especially the life insurance, and it only brings me pleasure when I share it with the people I love, the way my Mom and Dad did. It's what money's for, Harry. Bringing happiness and comfort. It's what my father always said about it."

Harry understood her feelings about her parents' life insurance, remembering how he'd given away a thousand Galleons for winning the Triwizard Cup, which he'd only gotten because Cedric Diggory, who was to be co-champion, had been murdered. He also recalled his frustration when no one would take it from him and his relief when Fred and George finally did. Harry took her hand and softened his words. "Don't forget security. You'll be old someday, Sara. One-hundred and twenty according to Dumbledore. You have to be careful."

"Have I mentioned that my father was an investment broker on Wall Street? He didn't just work in an office, Harry. He owned it. There’s a fortune at my disposal. Enough to satisfy our every whim, within reason, and still be sizable."

"But where did he get it all? Surely not just the stock market?"

"Remember when I read your palm?"

"Of course."

"Gypsies, as you know, are historically great fortune tellers, seers of the future. While we no longer wander the earth in caravans, the blood is still strong. My father was in a profession where prediction is everything. He had an ‘in,’ you might say."

"All right, then. You have money. But Sara, I can't have my girlfriend support me. It's wrong. I'll make my own fortune, and I'll build you a house. A big house, on the ocean. And I'll put all kinds of spells on it so that no one can ever hurt you while you're there."

"What will it look like?"

Harry’s smile grew. "It will be made of stone, like Hogwarts, so it will stand for many years. And inside there'll be lots of rooms for you to wander, none of them empty. There will be hidden passages and vast, underground rooms where we’ll hide all our secret treasures."

"Will there be windows in this grand palace?"

"Lots of them! Some so big you can sleep on the sill."

"Hmmm. And flowers?"

"Millions."

She laughed and threw her arms around his neck, causing him to fall flat on his back. "I think I'll take it, Mr. Potter."

Harry grinned. “You’re in a rather good mood.�

"Let’s just say that your little storybook princess has turned back into a frog."

"Then I should kiss you again. Who wants a frog?"

"We only have a moment, you know. We'll be leaving for Diagon Alley soon."

"I'll get school supplies some other time."

"Well I won't!"

Harry grinned. "What do you mean? You don't need many supplies for tower-dwelling, even if it is in a school."

Sara laughed and shook her head in disbelief. "I never told you! How could I forget?"

"Forget what?"

"I'm to be normal again, Harry! It was all Snape's idea, actually, so you can thank him. I'll be attending school with you in September, posing as an apprentice to Professor Trelawney! Only I can't let on that I'm American. Uncle Albus said I need to blend in."

"Sara! That's great!" Harry gave her his biggest hug yet. "You'll have to teach Trelawney a thing or two as well. She can't predict the future any better than I can. But how are we to behave if you're an apprentice and I'm a student? It wouldn't be proper and I doubt Dumbledore would approve-“

"Harry, I'm to be a student, too! Uncle Albus and I already thought of that. Trelawney only has so many classes a day. After all, it's not the most popular subject, so we'll be taking a potions class together, as well as History of Magic and Defense Against the Dark Arts. He insisted on that."

Harry was so thrilled by the news, all he could do was kiss her until she sighed and pulled him closer.

"You know, we're not at school and Dumbledore's the last thing on my mind."

"Are you getting a little impatient?"

"Not at all. Well, yes."

Sara laughed. "Me, too."

There was a light knock at the door and Ron popped his head in. "Uhh… sorry… Hermione insisted I ask the pair of you if we’re ready to go. I bloody well hope so. Then maybe she’ll glare at somebody else for a bit!"

Sara raised her voice and called to Hermione in the hallway. "Come in here!�

Hermione appeared at Ron's side, dressed in less conservative clothing than she'd worn to meet the Dursleys. Sara's expression turned panicked when she saw her. "I forgot to change! I can't walk around Diagon Alley dressed like a librarian! I'll just be a minute." Sara leapt to her feet and hurried around the room, gathering garments, before disappearing into the bathroom.

Hermione held aloft a folded parchment. "Got your list, Harry?"

He rolled across the bed and onto his feet without grace, and then set to rummaging through his backpack. "Somewhere…"


* * *

The sun-baked cobbles in Diagon Alley lent an added warmth to the day, and Harry smiled at the evening. Sara held his hand and her eyes glanced about with delight, like one enchanted, the way Harry’s had so long ago as he walked alongside a gentle giant, staring in wonder at these strange and wonderful new surroundings. Shop windows drew her greatest interest and Sara smiled as she walked beside him.

Sara also spent too long in every store. She and Hermione lingered in one establishment neither Ron nor Harry had ever been in before. It was expensive and the merchandise finely tailored. Robes of silk, velvet, and satin were abundant and the girls perused the racks, trying what seemed like everything on.

Harry and Ron decided to wander around the men's section, even though they had no plans to buy anything, and browsed without looking. Harry's eyes roamed over shelves of pricey odds and ends. (He had no idea why they were in the men's section, except perhaps as gifts for women.) His eyes lingered on one item in particular. Sara’s birthday was coming up. He’d planned to get something by owl order, but the beauty of this item drew him. The craftsmanship was aces, beyond anything he’d ever seen before, and it was many, many centuries old. Perhaps even millennia. It was bound to be far more than he could afford.

The light of many candles glinted amber in the smooth glass. His fingers brushed the raised symbols at the base and his mind was flooded with thoughts of Sara. She would want this, Harry thought, and it was a nice gift. A small slip of parchment lay beside it and, checking the price, Harry sighed and moved on with shoulders slumped.

Ron glanced across the room and shook his head. "I don't know why they're trying on those robes. All we need are the ones for school. We should be at Madam Malkin's! I reckon girls must like trying on clothes they don’t need. They’ve been at it long enough, don’t you think?�

Harry chuckled. "I’d rather not have an opinion on this one."

"Who really wears robes now, anyway? Just the old ones, mostly. I mean, we all have them, but you can't exactly wear them around."

A female voice made Ron and Harry turn on their heels as the girls came up from behind. "Can’t wear what around?�"

"Sara and I found the most beautiful robes! See? They match our outfits."

"We found some for the two of you as well, since you couldn’t be bothered to look for yourselves. Hermione and I decided we should all be in vogue while we're here. This is a wizarding market, you know, and none of us wore robes."

"No sense looking like Muggles. We can do that anytime."

Ron protested. "I'd have to work all year to afford one of these!"

"It was my idea, so it's my pleasure, Ron."

"But Sara. You can't!"

"Why not? Don't you think it would be a little fun to walk around in the finest wizard robes? In the middle of London no less?"

"Well, yeah, sort of. It's just, well, it's not like you want to buy us a Butterbeer or chocolate frogs!"

Sara’s smile faded from her eyes. “Are you refusing my gift?�

Harry put a hand on his friend's arm. "Ron, don't worry about it."

"Well, all right I guess, as long as Harry's going along with it.�

* * *

Ron and Harry stood before the mirrors, uncomfortable, while Hermione and Sara looked over the robes they now modeled. Ron's was dark blue, Harry's black and green.

Sara gave them both an approving smile. "Very nice. Conservative. Distinguished, but not elderly. I love the fabrics. Hermione, don’t you just love these fabrics?"

“Um... I’m not terribly familiar with fabrics, but they do look nice.�

Sara’s eyes widened as she looked at Hermione. “We forgot to tell them about the books!�

Hermione’s eyes lit up with the thrill of something only just realized. “Get them out! I can’t wait to show them!�

Sara handed Ron, then Harry, packages from a bag Hermione held open. "We sent Flourish and Blotts an owl a couple of weeks ago, asking them to get us these. They come with a binding spell!"

Hermione interjected. "When they're used together, they'll perform some special charm or spell, whatever we decide. I’ve got tons of ideas!"

Ron grinned and tore the wrapping over the cover. “Mine’s really nice! It’s kinda furry or something! It won’t bite me, will it?�

Harry laughed, remembering his misadventures with Hagrid’s choice of schoolbook. “Maybe you should pet the spine, just in case.�

Hermione saw a good moment to share some knowledge and took it without hesitation. “It’s unicorn skin. Since unicorns are the world’s most magical animals, their skin is quite useful in the making of enchanted objects. Even a tiny snippet of unicorn leather is enough to hold or channel the most powerful magic. These are no ordinary books, Ron. There aren’t many unicorns left. It’s beyond illegal to kill one, and so they have to wait for one to die. We’re lucky to have these.�

Harry grinned as his interest in making the spell books blossomed. "They’ll be a set, with our own magic linking each book to the others." Harry’s eyes glassed over as he dreamed of the possibilities. “But what spell should we use? It has to be something great. Something useful. Something all four of us want.� Harry attention snapped back to his friends, who were marveling over the beauty of their books, though Sara warned them not to touch them or remove the wrapping just yet. Harry looked down, through a torn ear of parchment, at his own book. The unicorn leather was pristine, white, and he fought the urge to run his fingers over it. “We need to think about what to put in these. They shouldn’t be second rate.�

Hermione smiled. “I’m sure we’ll do just fine, Harry. You especially.�

“I doubt my book will be better than anything you write. I don’t even care to read much. At least not as much as you like to.�

"We’ll worry about it later. Come on, there's lots to do yet."

Ron indicated the windows. "But it's late! Hermione, it's dark outside! School stuff will have to wait until tomorrow. I doubt anything's even open now."

"Who said anything about school supplies? I said lot's to do. They put in a little cafe' since last year. Let's have a potion or two in our flashy new robes. It will give us a chance to look at these." She held up her book, still wrapped in brown paper and tied with string.

Sara turned toward the door and spoke over her shoulder. "After that, we'll go back to our rooms, drop this stuff off, change clothes, and go to the club up the street. Anyone feel like dancing?"

Hermione fell in beside her. "We don't want to keep Harry up too late. He works fourteen hours a day, after all, and he walks back and forth to work. I doubt his feet could hold up much longer."

Ron paled with anger. "They won't even drop you at your job?! Those people, Harry, I'm glad they're not my relatives."

"I'm not tired," Harry lied. He was exhausted, but didn't want to spoil the evening.

Sara studied his face, seeing the dark circles and his heavy, weary eyes. "Hermione, Ron, you’ll have to go without us. We could all use some time to ourselves, anyway. We'll hit the town tomorrow night, when we've got him rested up."

Sorry to have let her down, Harry sighed. "Are you sure? Really, I'll be fine, once I've got my second wind."

Sara smiled and squeezed his hand as they took seats around a table outside Mystic’s Cafe. "Of course I'm sure. Now let’s unwrap our books."

Hermione sat up in surprise. "The circle changed color! It was black, but now it's silver!"

Ron beheld a blue circle on the cover of his book, which held another gold, palm-sized circle inside it. "Mine, too!"

Sara laughed. "Mine turned purple! Of course it did!"

Harry looked confused. He held his book out for them to see. "Mine's still black. Did I do something wrong?"

Hermione touched his hand, as if in congratulations. "It means yours is the key, Harry! There will be something special about yours; we just don't know what it is yet."

Ron frowned. "You've got all the luck, mate. I wish I'd won that lottery."

"It means he's the strongest. It's no surprise."

Harry said nothing, just looked at the book in his hands. How could he be stronger than Sara? She was an Elemental and he, well; he spoke Parseltongue and had a scar.

Ron considered his. "They're not very thick. You should have ordered two for Hermione."

"Or three," Harry added.

"No need. When you run out of room, or if you want to add between pages, more pages will appear. Make your book as long as you'd like. Now," Sara addressed the three of them. "If you press your palm to the large gold circle on the front, according to the bookseller, the image that represents you will surface."

Ron grinned. “Cool! Hermione, we’re going to have symbols!�

They all laid on their hands and the gold rearranged itself, tickling under their skin. Sara took hers away first.

Hermione tried to see across the table. "What is it?"

"An old Gypsy symbol my grandmother taught me. It means earth, wind, fire, and water. The elements. What did you get, Hermione?"

"It's an owl. I don't get it."

"An owl is a sign of wisdom," Harry explained. "I got a lightning bolt, like my scar. Ron?"

"It's a chess piece. The knight."

Sara smirked at Ron. "I always thought you were the sneaky sort. I'll bet it has to do with that chess game you played your first year. Uncle Albus told me about it. He was most impressed with your comprehension of logic and your ability to strategize. That's your symbol, then. The knight."

Ron grinned again. "That’s bloody acceptable, that is."

Hermione sat back after looking at everyone’s books. "Now, all we have to do is fill the pages."

Snape approached the table, having apparated into the little cul-de-sac. He narrowed his eyes at Harry, and then looked to Sara for answers. "Has anyone noticed that it has been full dark for hours?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "You found us, didn't you?"

"Now Severus, you know I'm safe with Harry."

"Maybe so, maybe not. We all know he's been lucky in the past." Snape looked to Harry, who glared back. "But luck has a way of... running out."

"Sit down, then, if you’re staying. And the two of you can stop glaring at each other. After all, it's not accomplishing anything, is it?"

Harry didn't drop his eyes until Snape looked back to Sara. "I would be more comfortable knowing where you are after sunset."

Snape walked to the farthest table and sat, facing away, ignoring them. A drunken man sat on a bench outside a pub called Slytherin Spirits with a sack on the ground beside him. He called out with a silly grin. “Hey! It’s Snape the Scary Ape! Want a beer, Snapey-poo?�

Snape sneered in his general direction. “How would you like to end up inside that bottle, Mr. Warf?�

A young girl in her early teens came through the door of the pub and said something to the drunken man, then smiled across the expanse. “Hello, Professor.�

“Good evening, Slyth. Might I suggest to your aunt that she stop serving wayward Hufflepuffs?�

Slyth laughed. “Mystic says hi. See you in September, Professor!� Slyth and another girl of similar age, who waved once at Snape, giggled and pulled the man called Warf into the pub. Snape picked up The Daily Prophet, mumbling to himself and pretended to read.

Hermione turned back to the group. "Where were we? Oh yes, the books. Has anyone gotten much done yet?"

Harry sighed. "Not really. I don't have much time, but I've compiled a few things. It's mostly in my head."

"That sounds like me, too. I haven't got much time, either."

Sara sipped her potion. "I hate to admit it, but I've got almost fifty pages."

Hermione was incredulous. "Fifty! I'm lucky if I've filled half that! And now I have to copy it all into this book. The good news is we have all of next year before we use the binding spell."

Sara smiled at Harry and Ron. "That's right. We use it the last day of school. So after we get back to Hogwarts, you two, no more slacking."

* * *

Sara was asleep when the light knock came at the door and Harry slid off the bed with care. Sara stirred, but didn't wake.

Harry pressed his ear close to the door and whispered to the person on the other side. "Who is it?"

"I'd like a word with you, Potter."

It was Snape. "It's late." Harry rubbed his eyes. "Can't it wait until morning?"

"Do you really think I would I be here if it could?"

Harry eased the door open and slipped into the hall, wearing his pajamas and barefoot. "Yes?"

"Since you appear to be sleeping in Sara's room, there's something I thought you should know. A hooded wizard in a black cloak that seemed to hover was seen within the hour. He was merely glimpsed, but fits the description Sara gave."

Harry scratched his head. "Gave when?"

"After she awoke to find him standing over her bed, of course."

"He came in?"

Seeing that this was news to Harry, Snape decided to make him squirm a little. "I understand her screams woke everyone, including half of Hogsmeade. It took the Headmaster nearly an hour to coerce her out of the closet. She'd hidden herself in there, buried under a pile of clothing."

"Was she hurt?"

"Of course not. The Headmaster came to her rescue on his flying carpet. Unfortunately, he'd been fast asleep."

"That was why he made her close the doors!"

"You don't mean to say, Potter, that Sara didn't tell you any of this?"

Harry said nothing.

"Funny, I was almost fooled into thinking she trusted you."

Harry narrowed his tired eyes at Snape. "She didn't want to worry me. I was home in case you forgot."

"Yes, of course you were. Working I've heard, at a Muggle job. Frivolous waste of time, Potter."

"I'm sorry you think so, Professor, but I have to make money somehow."

Snape sneered. "I suppose you do. And what a coincidence, the headmaster's niece just happens to be well off."

Harry scowled, taking a step closer. "You’re just jealous. Nobody loves you, except maybe your little pet Malfoy."

Snape stepped eliminated the gap between them. His black eyes fixed on Harry, piercing and hateful. He was angry, but there was something else in his countenance. Something that was hurt. Harry smiled.

Snape spoke through clenched teeth. "You're rather brave lately. Perhaps you should take more care with what you say."

A sharp, stabbing pain ripped through Harry's scar, blurring his vision and he gasped. His hands flew to his forehead.

"What is it?"

Before Harry could answer, Sara was screaming inside the room. Harry bolted through the door with Snape right behind him. It was dark, but Harry could just make out the cloaked figure, only feet from Sara as she cowered in the bed, its arms raised in a threatening gesture.

"Sara!"

“Lumos!�

The figure hissed.

Without warning, Snape moved in front of Harry, restraining him with one arm. The other extended a wand. Snape had barely opened his mouth to speak when he found himself propelled backward, almost taking Harry down with him, but Harry only stumbled. Snape landed hard, but was still conscious. He climbed back onto shaky feet. Harry never took his eyes off the intruder. He had no wand and now neither did Snape. Harry hadn't felt so disarmed since battling the basilisk and told himself not to panic in silence.

The cloak hissed again, the voice deep and menacing, snake-like. "Harry Potter!"

Harry glanced at Sara with her knees and the covers pulled up to her chin, staring at the figure and shaking in fear. He seethed with anger. "What do you want, Voldemort?"

"You think Severus Snape can protect you from me?"

"I don't need protection from you."

Voldemort laughed, raspy and thin. "You know, Potter, luck will not always be yours."

“What do you want with Sara.�

“Hasn’t Dumbledore told you by now?�

"You want whatever it is you think Sara has."

"Yessss. An Elemental. So very rare to find one so… gifted. She's the perfect host."

“A perfect what?? Well, come to think of it, she is quite gifted with a tea service. However, all you’ll be served tonight is a warning. Stay away from her or you’ll deal with me.�

Snape sneered. “And me.�

Voldemort drew back and, just as Harry moved to counter, Voldemort blew straight out the window on a gust of air, backward, a bad actor on a rubber tether.

Sara looked from Harry to Snape. “I’m sorry! I thought he was going to hurt one of you! I didn’t mean to use the wind. I saw his wand and I got so scared, Severus! It just… happened!�

Snape wiped a trickle of blood from his brow. “It’s all right, Sara. It happened so fast, I doubt he’ll know who did it or how it was done.�

Harry glanced at Snape. "You okay?"

"Of course I am!"

Harry turned toward the frightened girl who stood beside the bed in a state of shock, staring at the billowing curtains.

"He’s gone, Sara. He won’t be back tonight.� Harry walked to where she was and put his arms around her. Sara collapsed against him, bursting into tears the moment her head touched his shoulder.

“He came right to the bed! I woke up and he was looking at me with those horrible red eyes."

"It's over now."

"I couldn't find you, Harry. I thought you were dead!"

"I'll never leave you again. I promise. Not for any reason."

Snape walked to the window and looked out, leaving his back to them. Harry kissed her head and stroked her hair as lightning lit up the night sky.

Sara's voice was a little steadier when she spoke again, though she clung to Harry, drawing comfort from him. "He tried to make me defend myself and I almost had to. Thank Merlin you came when you did, or he’d know what I was for sure. When I saw you were gone I thought he’d killed you!"

"I'm sorry, Sara, I was just outside the door. I was talking to Snape."

Sara sniffled. "He was waiting for you to leave. I don't know how he found me so soon. It usually takes weeks. Harry, we've only been here six or seven hours."

The thought had already occurred to Harry, who shot a poison glance at Snape's back. "Someone must have known we were coming."

* * *

"But who, Harry?" Ron asked, chewing his ham sandwich. "Who would tell You-Know-Who where Sara was?" He swallowed. "After all, no one knew we were coming here except Dumbledore and Snape."

Harry scowled. "Exactly. Who else has ties to Voldemort? Snape bears his mark. It couldn't be anyone else."

"But we thought that before, Harry," Hermione reasoned. "And we were wrong."

Sara sighed and tossed her napkin on the table. "I can't believe it. It simply can't be Severus. There are other possibilities."

Ron bit into his sandwich again. "Like what?"

Sara sipped her water and considered the options. "The simplest explanation is that we were followed.�

Hermione leaned in and lowered her voice. "That's true. Voldemort could have had someone watching Hogwarts. Dumbledore did sense something in the forest, after all."

Even Ron saw the logic in the new scenario. "Sara and Snape took the train into London. It would have been easy to follow them."

Sara turned her gaze across the table. "Harry. It might not have been Severus. Best not to jump to conclusions."

"But why didn't he kill Snape when he had the chance? All he did was knock him down! Snape betrayed him, remember, and we all know what happened to the betrayers when Voldemort regained power last time.�

"Perhaps he was afraid you would try to protect Snape? He fears you, Harry, it's no secret."

"Or maybe he hasn't regained power? Look, it makes sense. I've encountered him many times and I know he's grown stronger, but he's only a shadow of himself. That's why he’s after me. He was trying to get me to display my powers last night. He wants to be sure of what I am. Snape knows what I am. Knows it as fact. The information couldn't have come from him."

Harry slumped against the back of his chair, defeated. "I still think it was Snape. He's already proven himself a traitor and he's such a creep anyway." Harry hesitated. His friends were all staring at him with intensity in their eyes and urgency in their collective manner. Ron drew a subtle finger across his neck and Hermione cleared her throat, motioning to the side as she pretended to arrange her hair.

"He's behind me, isn't he?"

"Good guess, Potter. Sorry to interrupt. As you were saying?"

"I wasn't saying anything that isn't already common knowledge. I think maybe you led him here."

"Or maybe you're an idiot, Potter. If you want to blame me, then go ahead, but I'm afraid you would be quite wrong."

Hermione hesitated. "What do you think, Professor? How did he find us?"

Snape exhaled as he thought it over. "I don't know, to be honest. The Headmaster is looking into it as we speak, but he seems to think we were followed from Hogwarts." He moved to look Harry in the eye. "After all, the simplest explanation tends to be the right one."

"Then why lead me out of the room in the dead of night? Except to give Voldemort the opportunity to get to Sara?"

"That was poor judgment. I should have come into the room, but I'm sure you can understand why I would be... uncomfortable with that."

"I swear, if I find out you put her in danger, I'll kill you!"

Snape sighed, all the command gone from his voice. "People can change, Potter." He turned to face the others. "Be alert today, all of you. I'll meet you at The Leaky Cauldron at nightfall. Do not be late." Snape turned and left without another word.

Hermione whispered across the table. "Harry really! Accusing Snape? What were you thinking?"

Ron looked at his friend and cringed. "Harry, we don't even know if it was him!"

Sara turned to Harry with angry eyes. "There's no evidence of anything, Harry, and I think you just hurt his feelings. He's right, you know. People can change, and I for one think he has. So does Uncle Albus. His opinion must mean something to you, even if mine doesn't!"

Harry pushed his plate away and left the table without responding. In fact, he had no idea what had prompted him to accuse Snape of betrayal. He thought perhaps his personal feelings were clouding his judgment, for Snape was right. It was most likely that they had been followed. Hermione was also right. The last time they thought Snape a traitor he saved Harry's life and thwarted an attempt to steal the Sorcerer's Stone.

Harry found himself in the restaurant's bar and collapsed onto a stool, depressed. Now Sara was mad at him, Ron and Hermione thought he was out of line and Snape thought he was an idiot. Sometimes, he thought, it's better to keep your mouth shut.

Harry thought over his recent behavior, wondering what had prompted him to threaten Snape. It was unlike him to be so hostile. His dislike for the man was immense, but he had no intentions of killing him. Even if he did turn out to be a traitor. Harry let his head fall into his hand. What was wrong with him? He had been working a lot, he thought, and he'd missed Sara. Seeing the fear and helplessness in her eyes last night, cowering before Voldemort, had been too much. He lashed out at Snape because he was angry with himself for not being there at that crucial moment, and needed to assign blame. He'd left her alone and defenseless, asleep, and foolishly shut the door behind him. And for what? To again indulge himself in slighting Snape? Arguing over nothing?

"Wallowing, Potter?"

Snape was behind him again. "Stop doing that, it's creepy."

Snape slid onto the stool next to him and, for the first time, Harry noticed he was wearing Muggle clothes and looked pretty normal in them. His expression was softer than usual and Harry let his guard down. He was sorry about what he'd said, but couldn't bring himself to apologize.

Snape ordered a drink and waited for it to arrive before turning his attention back to Harry. "Where are your friends, Potter?"

Harry tipped his head in the direction of the dining room. "Probably finishing lunch. They're all mad at me for what I said to you."

Snape lowered his voice. "You were right last night, but, for some unknown reason, it bothers me to know that you believe I would put Sara in danger. I would cut this mark from my arm if I could. There is no potion or spell that can erase it. I made a mistake in my youth that I've paid for a thousand times over and in every aspect of my life. I have learned that there are more important things than vengeance and anger. That girl you say you love is one of them."

Harry sighed. "I just needed to blame someone for my own mistake. I never asked you to come in when you came to the door. I didn't want to wake Sara and I was so tired that I wasn't thinking. It's my fault, really. Even if you had led Voldemort there I should have been ready for it."

"Then we're both to blame. After all, I was the one who promised her uncle no harm would come to her. It was my responsibility, not yours. Now, unless you plan to kill me now, I think I'll be on my way."

Harry tried to smile. "I didn't mean it, Professor. I was just angry. Maybe I’ll kill you when we have our duel."

"It's a date, Potter." With that, Snape left.

Harry went to find Sara so he could apologize. He'd only taken a few steps when she came into the room, looking anxious.

“We thought you’d left!"

"I was talking to Snape. It's all sorted out."

"Good. Look, I know you're worried, Harry, but you have to remember that he's on our side."

"I'm sorry, Sara. It's just that after last night, with everything that happened, I came a little unhinged. I don't want anything to happen to you."

Sara smiled. "I know, Captain. Now let's hit the town."

* * *

Sara and Hermione had brought dresses with them, but Harry and Ron didn't have a suit, so Sara took them to Harvey Nichols on Knightsbridge. They'd only come for two outfits, but Sara and Hermione had a great time picking out clothes for them and the staff could barely keep up. At first, Harry and Ron had protested, but they eventually succumbed to the shopping spree. By the time they'd left, they had everything from eveningwear to shorts and sunglasses. They could barely fit it all in the car and even the back seat was crammed with bags and boxes.

Sara rented a hotel room, just so they could take a quick swim in the pool, shower, and change clothes. Harry and Ron put on their Versace suits while the girls dressed in the bathroom. Ron admired himself in the mirror and Harry stood next to him, smiling, and pleased with his own appearance.

"We look bloody good, Harry," Ron admitted, turning this way and that. "We could feed a small country on what these clothes cost, but I'm not complaining."

"I really like this tie." Harry straightened it a little in the mirror.

Ron sighed. "Mum's going to kill me. She'll think I robbed Gringotts or something."

The girls came out of the bathroom, looking exquisite in evening dresses and sandals, their hair perfect.

"Don't move," Ron told them and they stopped where they were, "Let's all just stand here and admire each other." Of course, everyone laughed, including Ron, who obviously felt great in his new clothes. "You look fabulous. Both of you."

Harry smiled. "Is there a word for 'better than fabulous'?"

Sara grinned. "We're all a bunch of hotties. Now let's go. We have to be back in only a couple of hours. Bad enough we had to rush our sightseeing. We're not rushing through dinner, too."

* * *

They ate at the world-famous Criterion, under incredible gold ceilings and lush, rich decor. It was a high-society crowd, but they managed to draw smiles and appreciative glances from everyone they passed. Harry and Ron followed Hermione and Sara, who smiled in quiet conversation as they followed the maître d.

Ron nodded and smiled as they made their way to the table, and spoke to Harry in between. "I never thought this would happen to me. I mean, it's so nice to be accepted. No one here knows my family's poor, no one's snickering at worn out hand-me-downs. This is a dream, Harry. It can't be real."

"I know how you feel, Ron. Believe me. Look at this place!"

"It's like The Prince and the Pauper. They think I'm one of them, but I'm not."

"Sure you are, Ron. It's only a matter of clothes. They're just people after all."

Ron grinned. "And Muggles at that!"

After being seated and perusing the menu, they ordered sodas and talked as they sipped them, Sara using her best English accent. She had only a couple of weeks to make it a permanent habit, but still slipped in and out of it all the time. It would take work and constant reminders from her friends if she was to succeed with her facade at Hogwarts.

They enjoyed a five-course meal and dessert before they felt they had to leave. The sun was setting and none of them wanted to upset Snape again, especially since Voldemort had come after Sara.

Outside, they encountered a man with a camera, trying to peddle photographs to the restaurant's patrons. He was down on his luck for certain, his clothes full of holes and his shoes nearly falling apart. The man’s hair fell in his eyes, and his beard had grown wild. He was snubbed by anyone he approached. Sara, however, walked right up to him.

"You’re doing photographs?"

He sighed, dejected. “I was trying to. Funny, the way people run away from a man for being poor, even when he’s out trying to make an honest living. Perhaps they’d think better of me if I stole myself a nice suit.�

“Yes, they would. But we wouldn’t.�

Ron pushed in front of Sara and held out his hand for the stranger to shake. “No one here looks down on anyone else for being less than perfect, mate. I’m Ron, and I’m rather less than perfect myself.�

The man shook Ron’s hand. “Greg Sanders, and aren’t you the nicest bunch of kids!�

“This is my best mate, Harry, that’s Sara, and Hermione.�

Everyone stepped up to shake Greg’s hand with a kind smile. Sara stopped dead when she touched him, held his hand for a moment, and then stepped back without a word. Harry wondered what manner of images she’d divined from Mr. Sanders, but he knew better than to ask.

“Pleased to meet you all. Can I interest you in a photograph?�

Sara smiled and nodded. "This is a special night, you see, and it would be nice to have something to remember it by."

The scruffy, thirtyish man faltered, appearing crestfallen and depressed by a single thought. "I would require payment in advance. I'm so sorry." He was already disappointed, expecting Sara to extend a quick apology and walk away.

“What is your price?�

Greg was so surprised by the question that he stammered for a moment. “Look, you’re a great bunch, so I’ll make a deal with you. If you can spare a few dollars for a sandwich and a razor, I’ll do the shots for free.�

Sara opened her evening bag and handed him fifty pounds. "We’ll want six copies of the best shot. That should cover your costs, and if they are of good quality, I'll send you the usual professional fee."

The photographer glanced at the money and stuffed it into his pocket with eyes full of humility. He pulled a small pad and a pen from his camera case. "I'll need an address. Or if you'd like, you could pick them up."

Sara frowned, realizing he assumed they wouldn’t want someone like him to know where they lived. "You can mail them. That would be most convenient." She turned to Harry. "Could he send them to you? Would the Dursleys mind, do you think?"

"I'll make sure I get them. It’s 4 Privet Drive in Surrey."

Sara smiled again. "If you would, give us a way to contact you. If we like your work, we may have future need of a photographer."

The man flipped to another page and scribbled something down. He tore off the sheet and gave it to Sara. "This is where I can be reached. Sorry, I don’t have a phone anymore, but I still get the post. And any future business would be greatly appreciated."

Sara glanced at the paper and slipped it into her purse. "All right, Mr. Sanders, where would you like us to stand?"

* * *

"I'll send what I have and you can choose which you want copies of."

"Time is a factor. We’ll be returning to school soon, so I'll trust you to choose the best one and make copies of that."

"Certainly, miss. And thank you. I don't get much business. In fact, they've usually shooed me away by now." He attempted to smile through his shame.

Sara waited while the others shook his hand again and made their goodbyes, heading to the car with their backs to them. Sara smiled as she shook his hand in private, pressing all the money she had left in her bag into his palm. "Our paths will cross again, Greg Sanders. Our meeting was no accident."

Greg put the money in his pocket without knowing she’d given it to him, hypnotized, it seemed, by a strange voice inside his head.

Sara kissed his cheek and smiled as she walked away. She turned when she reached the others and raised a hand.

He waved in reply.

With regret, they headed back to Diagon Alley with the top down. It was a warm, balmy summer night and Harry loved the feel of the wind in his hair, thinking it reminded him of going full speed on his Firebolt, only better.

* * *

Ron scratched his head. “The Weird Sisters? In Diagon Alley? Seems rather odd, if you ask me.�

Hermione rolled her eyes. “What better place for them to play than Slytherin Spirits?�

Harry lagged behind with Sara on his arm. “I’ve never been in a pub before.�

Sara turned to him, surprised. “You haven’t? I think I’ve been into every bar and nightclub in Manhattan, not to mention a million others.�

Hermione looked over her shoulder at Harry as they walked through the dark street. “You’ve been in a pub more than once, Harry! We all have! Hogsmeade, remember?�

“You’re right! I have been in a pub! Forgot, I guess.�

Ron chuckled. “It’s nice, isn’t it? Finding out you’re not as ignorant as you thought? Come on, Harry. I hear Fred and George.�

Sara’s eyes lit up. “Look at the crowd! It’s so big that they’re spilling out into the cul-de-sac! Looks like a lot of them are students, or am I wrong?�

“You’re right, actually.� Harry smiled his excitement. “It’s so loud!�

Ron grinned with mischief. “How much money do we have? Fred and George said they’d get us mugs of ale for three Sickles each!�

Hermione’s brow creased with displeasure. “No drinking, Ronald!�

“Why not? I’m of age! Well, I will be soon, anyway. Harry’s of age. He’ll get us drinks, won’t you, Harry?�

“Umm…�

“No Harry won’t! And it doesn’t matter who’s of age, since I am, too. You’re not drinking!�

“Why not? If I want a drink I’ll have one!�

“Then you’ll be having one by yourself. And as for why, because you can’t seem to fathom the concept of moderation!�

Harry thought now was a good time to change the subject. “Look, some of our classmates are here!�

Ron waved to a couple of fifth year Gryffindors, standing in the crowd below the neon green lights of Slytherin Spirits, and fell back to Harry’s side. “Don’t worry, mate. Fred and George will get me all the ale I want, and then you won’t have Hermione on your back about it. I’ll bring some for you, and then you can act all surprised and say you feel obligated to drink it.�

“I’m not deaf, Ronald!�

Harry cringed. “I think it’s best not to. Thanks, but with Voldemort around, I need to keep my wits about me.�

Since the pub was a swarm of people and there was a mob outside, trying to catch a glimpse of The Weird Sisters, Hermione and Sara led their group to the lunch tables outside Mystic’s Café across the cul-de-sac. It was nice just to sit and chat on a warm night with no place to be except right where they were. Students mingled with regular patrons and everyone in sight was having a good time. It was impossible to feel bored. There was too much energy, and to be in the midst of it was exciting in itself.

Sara tipped her chin toward the door of the pub. “There’s Severus. I should let him know where we are. I’ll get us some Butterbeer while I’m up. Sorry, Ron.�

Sara greeted Snape, pointed out the table where her friends still sat, and then pushed her way into Slytherin Spirits. The music rolled over a sea of heads, thick, shocking, and so loud that not even shouting could suffice.

Sara held up three fingers. “THREE BUTTERBEERS AND A GLASS OF RIESLING!�

The dark-haired barmaid smiled and shook her head, pointing at an age bubble that had appeared above Sara’s head the moment she’d stepped up to the bar. It read “16.� She set four bottles of Butterbeer on the bar and shook her head again when Sara protested. Again, she missed Manhattan, where drinks were easy to get. It was embarrassing to be denied a glass of wine when she would come of age in just a few weeks, and frustrating to be treated like a child.

“Let me guess, the witch won’t give you a drink?�

Sara spun around, surprised by the voice, so close to her ear. He smiled and ran a hand through his hair. Sara was shocked. How could he remember her? She’d had his memory erased! “Um… Draco, isn’t it?�

“You looked familiar. Very familiar, actually, and you seem to recognize me. Perhaps you’ll remind me of how we know each other?� Draco turned to the barmaid and ordered a bottle of merlot. His bubble read “17.�

Sara was quick with a lie. “We haven’t met. I’ve seen you in Witch Weekly is all. We don’t know each other.�

“Then I think we should change that.� Draco poured her some wine and handed the glass to Sara, earning a disapproving glance from the barmaid.

Sara emptied the glass, nervous, and looking for an out. She wanted the wine he offered, however, and her eyes fell on the bottle.

“Have some more. You seem to be rather thirsty.� Draco poured again. “I have a private table near the stage. Would you care to join me?�

“Actually, I’m here with someone. Thanks, but I should be getting back now.�

“Will you speak to me again before you leave for the night?�

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.�

“I’ll hold onto this bottle of wine for you. Have a drink with me. Or is that too much to ask?�

“I don’t know.�

Draco held up the bottle. “This –and I– will be waiting. Right over there.� With that, he disappeared into the crowd.

Sara was quick to turn away. She gathered the bottles of Butterbeer and pushed her way out of the pub.



Fred and George had joined their table and Sara smiled as Ron drank a mug of ale and Hermione was fuming. Sara passed around the Butterbeer and took her seat next to Harry, who smiled at her return and took her hand.

Harry leaned in close and lowered his voice to a whisper. “He’s had two already. She’s ready to perform an Unforgivable Curse on him I think.�

Sara giggled, relishing the warm tingle the wine left in her stomach. She wished she’d stayed for one more glass, but knew she had to finish her Butterbeer before she could go back in for another round; and another glass from Malfoy’s bottle. It was irritating. Malfoy had seen how much she’d wanted his wine, and so he was using it to gain an audience with her. Well, an audience he would get, just long enough to drink another glass or two, and tomorrow she’d request to have his memory erased again. That would teach him to play the puppeteer. Sara buried her anger and turned her attention back to the scene across the table.

Fred and George handed Ron another mug, and dared him to chug it. Hermione shook her head, incensed. “Why must the two of you be such a bad influence? He doesn’t need to be drinking! He’s underage!�

George laughed at her outburst. “Sounds like someone needs to lighten up!�
Fred agreed. “Just because you’re a goody-two-shoes, Hermione, doesn’t mean we all have to be dull and boring!�

Ron gave her a half-drunken grin. “Yeah, Hermione! Would it kill you to have a little fun? Have some ale! Maybe then you won’t be such a drag!�

Hermione shot to her feet.

Harry looked at Sara. “Uh-oh.�

“I’m dull? I’m BORING? Is that how it is? I’m a drag unless I drink some ale?� Hermione grabbed a mug from Fred’s hand and turned to Ron. “Is this what you want, RONALD?�

Harry’s mouth fell open as Hermione drank the entire thing, without stopping for air, and slammed the empty mug down on the table. “THERE! I’ve had some ale! Does this please the three of you? That I’m doing something I don’t like? Am I FUN yet?�

George tried not to smile. “Not quite. Perhaps you should have another.� He held it out and she grabbed it from his hand, her anger more than evident.

“Cheers, Ron! After all, I’m such a DRAG, you know!�

Ron’s grin had disappeared and a look of concern was beginning to replace it. “Hermione, stop.�

“Oh, now you want me to stop? What, this isn’t FUN to you? Is this BORING, too? Funny, last I knew, I was a DRAG for not drinking this foulness, so here goes!�

Harry leaned into Sara’s ear as Hermione guzzled her second mug of ale. “Ten Galleons say it makes her sick.�

Sara sighed. “Ten Galleons say Ron learns his lesson.�

“That, too.�

“And twenty Galleons say they both have a great time before it makes her sick.�

Harry hesitated as Hermione carried on with her tirade and started on a third. “I should stop her.�

“Actually, Harry, you should stay out of it.� Watching Hermione, Ron, Fred and George drinking ale made Sara’s thirst for more wine ever so much sharper. “Stay here and keep an eye on them. I’ll get us another Butterbeer.�



Malfoy’s private table turned out to be occupied by three other Slytherin friends, but Draco was quick to dismiss them when Sara came to stand near-by. He motioned for her to sit, and second thoughts sprinted through her head. If Harry came in, he wouldn’t understand why she was there, and so Sara’s heart raced as she took a seat beside him. The truth was; she wasn’t sure why she was there, either. It was easy to say it was the wine, but part of her knew Harry would get her wine if she swallowed her pride and asked him. Sara knew her drinking displeased him, but drinking with Draco Malfoy would displease him ever so much more. The truth was, she wasn’t there for the wine at all, but because something about him intrigued her, appealed to that side of her that was drawn by darkness. Sara tried to smile. She refused to believe what she knew to be true.

He was gorgeous, ever so much more than good-looking, and Sara had a feeling that he knew it. He was the sort of blond Adonis one expected to see on the glossy pages of a fashion magazine and Sara’s pulse quickened as she recalled his confidence on the roof of her tower, his aggressive manner, and the way she’d been affected by his close proximity that night. However audacious he’d been last time they’d met, however conceited, the dark attraction she felt was undeniable and Sara hated herself for it. Harry despised Draco Malfoy, and so she would also.

The music was muted, as though she’d stepped through a ward, and conversation was uncomplicated.

“I see you’ve returned. I had a feeling you would.�

Anger furled inside her at the sight of his arrogant smile. He knew she’d come back, and he’d been right. “I don’t have long. I was just curious as to why you wanted to talk to me.�

“What is your name?�

Sara ignored the question. “You promised me a glass of wine, or are you the sort who only keeps his word when it serves a purpose?� Recognizing the bitterness and hostility in her words, Sara was quick to smooth it over. “It’s ridiculous. I’ll be of age at the start of term, yet I can’t have a glass of wine a few weeks early. Wizards are too often sticklers for the rules, don’t you think?�

Draco produced a glass and poured from the bottle. “I tend to make my own rules.�

Small talk would buy some time, so Sara asked a stupid question, the answer to which she already knew. “So you found a way to alter your age bubble?�

“Age indicators and restrictors are often foolproof because they expect clever young wizards to try. They tend to think of everything and find a way to prevent it. My age bubble is correct.�

Sara drank as much of the glass as she could without drawing his attention. “It’s just frustrating is all. Thanks for helping me out. I insist on paying you for the bottle.�

“If I was hoping for repayment, I wouldn’t have bought it. Keep your money.�

Sara drank again and refilled the glass herself. “Then what were you hoping for? You don’t seem like the charitable type.�

“I wanted to talk to you. It seemed like the perfect catalyst.�

“Why me?�

“I know you from somewhere. I can’t place it, but I assumed you would be able to refresh my memory.�

“That’s all? I looked familiar? I already told you we haven’t met, so why hold that bottle of wine over my head as a means to get me back here?�

“Because you’re the best looking girl in the room, of course. In fact, you may very well be the best-looking girl in London. Do you fault me for wanting to talk to you? If you ask me, I’d be crazy to stand by and let you walk away.�

“I’m flattered, but I have a boyfriend. I’m sorry.� Sara drank faster, knowing this conversation was nearing its end. “Besides, what makes you think the best looking girl in the room would want to talk to you? Just out of curiosity.�

Draco smiled. “They always do. Why would you be any different?�

Sara laughed, incredulous. Malfoy, it seemed, was taking arrogance to new levels and in a big way. She finished her glass and emptied the bottle into it.

“What’s the hurry? You’ll make yourself sick, drinking like that.�

“That’s really none of your concern.� Sara wished she could take a bit more time with the wine. She was already feeling drunk, a little too drunk in fact, and knew she should slow down, but circumstance prevailed. “Besides, drinking won’t make me sick, but spending another moment in your presence will.� Sara threw a few Galleons on the table and stood. “I hope you choke on that ego, you arrogant creep.� Sara hurried back toward the door with the glass in her hand.

“WAIT!� Draco leapt from his seat and hurried after her. He caught up at the back corner of the bar and spun her around.

“Let go of me this instant!�

“I didn’t mean to offend you.�

“I don’t care what you meant to do, I’m offended anyway!� Sara drank the rest of her glass and tossed it aside to shatter, unheard, on the floor of the pub. Her arm came down to strike him, but he caught her wrist and pinned it against the wall.

“Would you just let me explain? I know you and it’s driving me crazy!�

“You don’t know me, so LET ME GO!�

“Please, just come back to the table. I’ve said everything wrong. Let me start over!�

“I’d rather die.�



Harry turned to Ron and Hermione, who was now drunk, grinning from ear to ear, and talking loud enough to be considered obnoxious. “Something’s not right.�

“What do you mean, mate? If you mean that half our classmates are in shock and pointing at Hermione, then you’re quite correct.�

“It’s Sara. She’s been gone a long time. There’s something wrong.� Harry stood, nervous, anxious, and ready to turn and run to her aid. “We have to go!�

“There’s probably a long line at the bar, mate.�

“I can feel it, Ron! She needs help!� Harry walked with a quick pace toward Slytherin Spirits and, although neither took him seriously, Hermione and Ron stumbled along behind.

Hermione tripped over Ron’s shoe and almost fell, but Ron’s arm kept her upright. She laughed and called out to Harry. “Slow down!�

A lone voice came from behind as they passed inside the pub. “Holy Merlins! Hermione Granger’s in the bag!�

Hermione laughed again and shouted over her shoulder. “I’m not as dull as you think!�

Applause sounded from a group of Gryffindors as Ron led her through the door and pulled her along to catch up with Harry, who stopped shoving through the crowd to glance around in search of her. Ron and Hermione fell in beside him.

Harry straightened and pointed over the many heads, toward the back corner of the vast room. “It’s Malfoy!�

Ron and Harry pushed hard through the mass of people as Hermione managed to hurry along behind them. All mirth had left her, her expression turned angry, her eyes intent, and she drew her wand.

Harry broke through and rushed forward. He grabbed Draco by his collar and yanked him backward. Sara tried to run to Ron and Hermione, but Malfoy was quick and managed to stop her.

Harry seethed. "I'm warning you, Malfoy!"

Draco kept hold of Sara's wrist so she couldn't run and turned to face Harry. "Warning me? And what are you going to do, Potter? I know this girl. We're just talking."

"She doesn't want to talk to you."

"Oh yeah? And what do you know about it?� Malfoy gave a hard tug on Sara's arm and she stumbled toward him. He caught her and wrapped his arms around her so she couldn't get away. "Friend of yours, is she?"

Ron stepped up to Harry. "Do something! Or I will!"

Harry spoke through clenched teeth. "Get your hands off her now!"

"I don't think so." Draco grinned and kissed her cheek, just to spite him. Sara turned her face away and made an unsuccessful attempt to struggle.

Harry shook with rage. He grabbed Sara and pulled her free. She hurried to Hermione’s side and Ron stepped in front of the two girls.

Malfoy smirked.

"Touch her again...." Harry said, trying hard to control the fury that rioted inside him. Without thought, his arm was cutting the air and his fist connected with Malfoy's nose with a dull crack! The smile fell from Draco’s face and he crashed to the floor, blood spilling over his mouth and dripping from his chin. Malfoy looked stunned, but more than that, Harry thought, he looked scared.

"What is going on here?"

All heads turned and there was Snape, now only a few feet from Malfoy.

The question was directed at Harry, who regarded his own hand, blood smeared and already swelling, as if it were foreign. He let it drop to his side. "He assaulted Sara again, sir."

Snape glanced at Sara, who stood, shaking, with Hermione's arms around her and Ron fuming nearby. He looked back to Harry. "Why did you not come for me?"

"I handled it."

"How chivalrous. And barbaric." Snape turned to Malfoy, scowling. Draco was still on the floor, bleeding and cradling his nose. "Get up, Draco. You deserved that one."

Malfoy climbed to his feet and glared at Snape. "You're defending Potter?" he yelled from behind his hand. "Really, Professor! He broke my nose! And for no good reason!"

"He had good reason! He was defending the girl you were harassing. I do have eyes, Mr. Malfoy. You will not bother her again or you will deal with me."

"Who is she?" Malfoy demanded. "I know her, but I just can't remember."

Ron interjected, loud, and with an air of righteousness. "She's Harry's girlfriend!"

Snape ignored Ron’s declaration. "An apprentice. To Professor Trelawney. Now come, Draco, I can stop the bleeding. Potter? Take the others and meet me outside."

Malfoy met Harry’s eye as Snape led him to the men's room. "You'll pay for this. I swear you will."

Harry glared, murderous and unafraid, until Malfoy was gone. It was then that he turned to Sara with a gentle tone. She still clung to Hermione. "Are you alright?"

"Yes." Sara stepped away from her friends and hugged him. "I'm glad you hit him, Harry. He frightens me. I couldn't use magic. I didn't know what to do."

Ron slapped Harry on the back in congratulations. "I've wanted to do that for years. Good job, Harry! But do you mind if Hermione and I stay awhile longer? It's too much fun to leave now, especially on account of Malfoy."

Sara grinned. "See you in the morning, but I think my hero and I may be sleeping in."

Ron smiled. "You won't be the only ones! We'll be having brunch, I think."

Harry laughed. "Or lunch. Hermione, our steadfast voice of reason, keep him out of trouble."

"Oh shut-up, Harry! See you later!" With that, Ron and Hermione disappeared back into the throng of people.

"We'd better get outside," Harry said and led Sara back down the stairs. "I'll bet Snape really hates me now. Malfoy's his pride and joy, after all."

"So am I," Sara grinned. "At least according to all of you, and you just saved me from the clutches of evil. Severus was furious, Harry, but not with you."

“I’m just glad you’re okay.�

“Would you do me a favor? I didn’t want to ask because I know how you feel about it, but would you get a few bottles of wine? We’ll take them back to our room, since our night’s been ruined.�

Harry stepped up to the bar. His age bubble appeared and Sara saw the barmaid give a brief nod after Harry shouted his request. She really was glad he’d hit Malfoy, but only because of the way he’d acted after Harry arrived. How could she admit that the entire encounter was her own fault? How could she tell him she’d spoken to Draco of her own accord and had been so rude as to be unforgivable? Draco had meant no harm to her. He’d only been trying to make amends and the guilt she felt needed a good dose of alcohol. Harry turned back to her with three bottles of wine. Sara smiled.

* * *


With three empty bottles of wine on the table, Harry locked the door and placed a few spells on it to ensure they wouldn't be disturbed. Sara was unbuttoning his shirt, swaying on her feet as Harry kicked off his shoes.

"Hurry up, Harry! To hell with the door." She kissed him again, pulling his shirt from one arm and then the other, dropping it to the floor.

Harry tossed his wand into the nearest chair and guided her across the room in the dark, stumbling a little. He fumbled with her clothing with no idea of what he was doing or how to go about it.

They fell to the bed amidst a madness unfamiliar, all inhibitions forgotten. The uncertainty that accompanied their innocence was snuffed out and their hands knew a boldness they'd never experienced in the past. They maneuvered around on the bed, twisting and rolling from side to side with one general focus, to get out of their clothes without interrupting their passionate kiss. Sara managed to remove most of Harry's clothes, but Harry's job proved difficult. Women’s garments were complex, he learned, and all but gave up.

"That's it! It's impossible. I'm getting my wand."

Sara laughed a little and sat up. "I'll give you a hand. I need a break anyway, Harry. I'm a little dizzy. I'll be fine in a minute." She swung her feet over the side of the bed and tried to get undressed, but Harry stopped her when he saw she was having difficulty.

With her back to him, he understood the workings of her top and helped her out of it. Harry pulled her nightgown over her head, having found it at the foot of the bed. Her clothes he tossed on the floor.

"Lie down, Sara. I'll get you some water." He helped her onto the pillow, then gently removed her skirt and tossed it to the floor. Her face had gone pale, he noticed, and her eyes unfocused. "I think you just drank too much." He brushed the hair from her face with an amorous hand before stumbling to the bathroom in his shorts.

He found a glass near the sink and ran the water until it was ice cold. Glancing at himself in the mirror, Harry noticed his own face was a little colorless, his eyes reddened and droopy. He looked away, disliking his appearance. When the glass was full, he shut off the tap and returned to the bedside, only to find his drunken beloved fast asleep.

Harry got into bed, unsteady on his feet, and drank the water. He was disappointed, that was for sure, but also a little relieved. Dumbledore's warning had been flashing through his head all night, though he'd done his best to ignore the wise inner voice. Be careful with spirits, Harry. They cloud your judgment and lead to foolish behavior. There are few things worse than regret. Harry doubted there would have been regrets, but tonight had been all about their immense physical attraction and less about their love for each other. He knew, even in his present state, that he wanted it to be more than a frantic moment, half remembered in the morning. He was willing to wait a little longer for it.

Harry put out the candle and curled up next to Sara, drifting off to sleep.

* * *

Harry was standing in the middle of the room. The cool night air drifted in through the open windows, chilling his skin. The sky was clear and full of stars, though the street below was obscured by fog. Something was wrong. Feeling frightened, he turned over in his sleep, his arm coming to rest atop his scar.

Harry looked down at his feet to see the dense London mist rolling across the floor and reached for his wand, but it wasn't there. He wasn't dressed. He looked around the room for his clothes, but couldn't remember where he'd put them. Helplessness and fear invaded him as he came to realize there was something in the room with him, a menace in the darkness, and it meant him harm.

Harry ran to the door and pulled. It was heavy and he could feel the presence right behind him, but the effort he put forth seemed to amplify his struggle. Finally, he wedged it open enough to slip through, but instead of the corridor upstairs in the Leaky Cauldron, he found himself in Sara's tower bedroom at Hogwarts. There was music playing, the melancholy blues song her mother sang, the one he loved so much. Normally, the soothing rhythm calmed and relaxed him, but it drove a spike into his forehead as he made his way into the room. The doors to the roof were open. Fog rolled across the floor. The fire was out and the room was cold. Sara was asleep in the dark and he hurried toward the doors. The room seemed immense, expanded, both Sara's bed and the roof impossibly far away. Something passed through the open door, something black and weightless in the mist. A shadow, slipping along the wall, and Sara lay unaware.

"Sara!" he shouted. "Sara! Wake up!" His words fell flat, heavy as lead, as the music grew louder and his voice was minute and hoarse, barely audible, even to him. He ran faster, but felt as if he were underwater, his legs like rubber, his muscles useless. "HELP!" he yelled, just as the shadow lifted an old fashioned, black revolver and fired. Paralyzed by fear, the bullet tore open his forehead, piercing his brain and the pain was unbearable. Harry felt himself falling backward, and sat up in bed. His hands flew to his scar.

He was disoriented, and the terror of his dream clung to him, his scar still burning as if the bullet was real. Harry turned his throbbing head toward Sara, asleep in the bed next to him and heard a hiss he remembered well.

His wand, he recalled, was tossed absentmindedly on a chair near the door where he couldn't get to it. In the blackness he saw shadowy movement near the other side of the bed, closest to Sara. Harry pushed the remnants of heavy sleep from his mind and jumped to his feet atop the bed. He leapt over her and to the floor with a loud thud, placing himself between Sara and the dark shadow. He felt quite useless without his wand, but pointed his finger, speaking the impediment curse he'd learned for the Triwizard Tournament and the movement all but stopped. Knowing he had to act quickly, Harry turned his hand in the direction of his wand and used a summoning charm, breathing a sigh of relief when he felt it in his hand.

Harry heard a furious hiss and Snape was banging on the door, yelling to be let in. Harry needed help, but couldn't turn away, even for one little Alohamora. His brain was fuzzy from drinking and he couldn't think. Only the simplest spells he'd learned in his first years were coming to him and he felt panic at the edges of his mind, threatening to overcome him. He'd surprised Voldemort, but stupid, childish spells were no solution at all. Either one of them could throw them off with little more than a shrug. He needed something stronger, something clever.

"Don't you ever give up?" he growled at the cloak, stalling for time with his mind racing and Snape throwing himself at the magically sealed door. That was stupid. Harry thought.

He heard a harsh whisper no more than two feet away. "Never."

An idea clicked in Harry's brain and he jumped on it, even if it was more first-year magic. He hit Voldemort with a shrinking spell that reduced him to the size of a puppet, but it wasn't enough.

"Patrificus Totalis!" The cloak stiffened and collapsed to the floor, rigid as stone. Harry was quick to turn his wand on the door. "Alohamora!"

Snape fell into the room, wand in hand.

"Light the candles!" Harry ordered.

Snape waved his wand and the room jumped alight as Harry placed a freezing spell on the little cloak, turning it to a block of ice and was about to try everything else he could think of when Snape's hand fell heavy on his shoulder.

"He's gone, Potter."

Harry blinked. "He can't be! I paralyzed him!"

"Tell me, does your scar hurt?"

Harry sighed. "No. No, it's stopped."

"Is Sara injured?"

"She's fine. She never even woke up."

"Good. Then she doesn't need to know, does she?"

"No. I guess not. It would only scare her."

"All right then, close that blasted window and go back to sleep. He'll not come back tonight. I'll make sure of that." Snape took the little miniature cloak and turned to leave. Not having noticed upon his hasty entrance, he now came to a halt and considered all the clothing scattered haphazardly across the floor. He looked at Harry with a vicious leer of accusation.

Harry sighed; thankful he didn’t have to lie. "Don't jump to conclusions. Nothing happened."

"I should hope not!" Snape growled and took to walking again. He got to the door before Harry stopped him.

"Professor? Can't I return to Hogwarts with Sara? He's sure to come for her again."

"I fear for her safety as well, Potter, but that decision is not mine to make. The Headmaster can protect her. I can assure you of that. Besides, what about your Muggle job? You do need money, after all." Snape grinned, remembering the conversation.

"I have my priorities."

"I'll speak to him, I suppose I could do that, but if I were you I'd expect to be arriving on the train with the rest of the students in September." He shut the door before Harry could try to reason.

Harry locked the windows with a few spells and climbed back into bed. Curling up next to Sara, he wrapped an arm around her and closed his heavy eyes, listening to her slow, steady breaths. She never moved.

* * *

Harry awoke to a heavy head, a sour stomach, and an all over ache that made his previous hangover seem like a pleasant memory. He laid still for a few minutes, Sara asleep beside him, trying to think of a pain banishing charm he could cast on himself, but he came up empty. His intense thirst finally drove him out of bed, careful not to wake Sara.

The sun had made a fourth of its trek across the sky and he seemed to be the only one of his group that was awake. Harry pressed an ear to Ron and Hermione's door and heard Ron's familiar soft snores. Harry backtracked to Snape's room and knocked, careful and light. "Professor? It’s me, Harry.�

Snape opened the door, still dressed in his clothes from last night and wearing a baseball-style cap, his greasy black hair winging out from beneath it. Harry would have laughed if he didn't feel like death.

"What is it?"

"Do you have any aspirin?"

To Harry's surprise, Snape grinned. It was unusual Harry thought, until he realized it was his misery that Snape found amusing. Harry frowned, but waited for an answer.

"I should let you suffer, Potter. However, Sara will be rather disappointed if her last day of freedom is spent inside, so I have prepared a potion for you and your degenerate friends. Come in."

"Was there any more trouble last night?"

"None. Lucky you weren't killed in your condition and Sara as well. In fact, I'm surprised you woke at all."

"Do you really think I could sleep with him lurking about? In the room, no less? You underestimate me, Snape, but for now, be nice to me. I feel like hell."

Snape's smile returned. "Drink this. It should help. Either that or all your hair will fall out. It was late. I can't remember what I threw in that potion."

Snape meant to terrorize him, but he drank the nasty stuff down at once. Harry didn't care if he was bald, as long as he felt better. It was working before he finished the cup and he could feel it making its way through him like a comfortable glow.

"Thank you, sir. I'll leave a note for Sara to come see you. I'm going out for awhile. I have to get her a birthday gift before we go back to school. I saw it on Friday in Diagon Alley."

"Very well, then. Take some and leave it by the bed. I'll be getting some sleep before we return. Leave this outside Weasley's door." He handed Harry a large vial. "Now go away, Potter."

"Yes, Professor." Harry closed the door behind him.



Sara's birthday was only a couple of days into the semester and Harry had seen the perfect thing. It was expensive, though, and he had to make a trip to Gringotts Bank before going back to the store where they'd bought their robes, name unremembered. Harry had worn his new robe this morning, partly because Sara had bought it for him, partly because he didn't know when he would get to wear it again except after graduation, but mostly because he wanted to look like he could afford to shop in that store. He could; of course, he had a ton of Galleons, and didn't mind spending them on Sara. He wanted to get her the nicest things, which is a lot of the reason why he had worked so hard this summer, but he cared more about the Muggle money. He doubted he would have parted with so much of that.

As he stood in the men's section of the shop, regarding what he'd come for, an idea came to him. Sara's father had made millions investing in the stock market. Why couldn't he? He did have a seer at his disposal who could make the required predictions, after all. He could multiply the comfortable sum he had in the bank and speed the purchase of their house by several years. But was it dishonest? It seemed so. He wanted to make his money, not steal it. Did that make Sara's father a thief? Harry wouldn't think of it. Whatever her father had done was irrelevant now. He sounded like a great guy. He'd shared his money with others, according to Sara, to bring happiness and comfort, and it had left Sara well taken care of. Whatever her father had done, Harry was glad he'd done it, honest or not.

He decided against the idea. If he was going to do that, then why not use the wealth that Sara offered? It was the same thing, spending money he hadn't earned. After graduation he would get them a flat in London and he would get a more respectable, better paying job, buy some land, and save money to build the house they would someday call home.

He had stood before the shelf for so long that a saleswoman had come to ask if he needed help.

"I'm interested in buying this. What can you tell me about it?"

"Is it for yourself?"

"A gift. She's a powerful clairvoyant."

"Then this would be the perfect thing. The origin of this particular crystal ball is unknown, but it is many centuries old. This is the original stand and, as you can see, the craftsmanship is rather astounding. A lot of work went into this. I'm not sure when it made its way to England, but I was told by the appraiser that it is full of strong magic that has been lost to our kind for at least a millennium. He wasn't sure of all it could do, but said it was powerful."

"What are these strange markings here along the base?" Harry thought one of them looked familiar, but what did he know about strange old markings?

"I honestly don't know. Our appraiser thought they might be ancient Romanian symbols."

"I'll take it."

"Very good. A gift you said?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll wrap it for you as well."

Harry followed her to the counter.

"You know, Mr. Potter, a true clairvoyant rarely gets to use a medium as powerful as this. Your lady-friend will be most pleased."

Harry smoothed his hair down over his scar, having been recognized by it yet again. "I hope you're right."

* * *

With the heavy parcel in his arms, Harry entered the room he shared with Sara and found the cup of potion empty and a clamor emanating from behind the bathroom door. He hid the gift in his backpack, magically condensing its contents to make room. He threw his robe over the back of a chair and dressed for lunch. They had precious few hours left together, but thankfully, the new semester started in about two weeks. He wouldn't have to miss her for long, and this time when she returned to Hogwarts, he wouldn't have to concern himself with her sanity. Her safety, however, was another matter. He could only hope Snape had spoken to Dumbledore and that he had agreed to let him accompany them back to the school. His hopes were low. He had a feeling what Snape had said was right. He'd be returning with the other students on the first.

Sara emerged from the bathroom, showered and smelling wonderful. Her skin glowed and he wondered what she did to it everyday, for it must be a spell.
Her golden-white hair was perfect as always and the curls had returned to the ends, though the black had grown since last night. Something was bothering her, but Harry didn't ask. She offered him a radiant smile and threw herself into his arms without a word.

"You passed out on me. I guess you're all talk."

"I don't remember. I've been going over it for an hour now. I remember being in bed together, but it's just bits and pieces. I woke up wondering."

"We didn't, of course." His smile turned to a grin. "Personally, I blame the wine. No more wine for you, and no more complicated straps and hooks and buttons. You can only wear normal shirts from now on."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. But you're welcome to wear that skirt every day if you'd like."

Sara laughed. "You sound a little disappointed, Captain. Did I leave you in a state?"

"We waited too long to come back to our room!"

"It's all Severus' fault. Remember Harry? He made us wait for him and he took forever. Let's blame him."

"Excellent idea! That's it then. We'll blame Snape." He fell to the bed, pulling her down, too. "You're awake now, Sara." He kissed her, playful and with an air of silliness. It only took a moment to realize Sara didn’t share his mood. “What’s wrong?�

“I had a visitor this morning. It was a sobering visit, for lack of a better word. I really shouldn’t say anything, but someone drank too much last night and things went a bit too far when they came back to their room. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the good fortune of passing out.�

Harry was quiet for a moment, thinking about what she'd said. He looked up and she had turned away. "Hermione," he whispered.

Sara nodded her head. "She's so upset, Harry. They were drunk, of course and she remembers very little. It's not how she wanted it to happen."

Harry sighed, remembering again Dumbledore’s warning. There are few things worse than regret. “You know Sara, last night I was glad you fell asleep. You won’t believe me, but it came as a relief. Dumbledore said something to me that made me think twice, but at the time I didn't care. It was only after you passed out that I stopped to think about how I felt about it. Poor Ron. He must feel terrible."

"I'm sure he does, Harry, and so does she, but what's done is done. At least they love each other."

"Is there anything we can do?"

"Yes. Leave them alone. Let them talk. We'll be on our own today."

"I think we almost made a terrible mistake last night, Sara. Dumbledore was right. Drinking does cloud your judgment."

Sara lowered her eyes and Harry could tell she felt ashamed.

"I want it to happen, Harry, we both do, but not like that. I don't ever want to feel the way Hermione feels right now. Promise me we'll keep our heads."

"I promise. I don't want us to have regrets."

"Regret is what I fear the most, you know."

"What else are you afraid of?"

"You just turned seventeen and I'm about to. We feel like adults. We believe we think as adults, but do we? How do we know we aren't making foolish adolescent decisions? And how much of those decisions are influenced by our physical desires?"

"So you want to wait, then?"

"I don't know. The part of me that's afraid does. I know I love you, Harry. The question is when. I thought the time was right more than once, only to later feel relief that it hadn't happened." Sara hesitated, tears welled up in her eyes and when she spoke again her voice was soft and full of sorrow. "I need my mother, Harry."

Harry put his arms around her and her head found his shoulder. "We both need advice. There have been many times when I've needed my parents, too, and this is one of them, but in the end it comes down to what we want. What we feel is right. I want you to be sure, Sara, and I'll wait as long as it takes."

Sara smiled. "You always know how to make everything ok."

"But if I have to wait, then you can't wear that skirt anymore."

She laughed. "I'll wear gray sack dresses and big clunky boots, then. That should help."

"I'd just picture you in something else."

Sara grinned. "Let's get lunch, then. I'm starving. After, we'll take a ride out to the coast. There’s something I want to show you."

* * *

The drive was a long one, but enjoyable. Sara had a reason for this particular trip, which she didn't confess to Harry until they had arrived at their destination. She had to; since it made little sense to him that they drive down a dirt road on what was obviously private property.

"I called a real estate agent while you were out. There are five lots here, four of them undeveloped, and it sounded perfect! I thought we could look at it."

"Look is all we can do until I make some more money."

"Let's say you let me buy the property." She saw he was about to protest and stopped him, grinning. "I can't have my boyfriend support me, Harry. It's wrong."

Harry had intended to argue, but laughed instead. "Sara, you're impossible."

"I also don't want these lots to be purchased by someone else in the meantime. It's perfect, isn't it? There are tons of trees by the road, which obscure the rest of the property from the view of passers-by. It's twenty-one acres deep, so there's plenty of room to build our grand palace and keep it removed from the road while not putting it right on top of the cliffs. What do you think, Harry?"

"It does seem perfect. Let's have a look around." He took her hand and they began their walk. "It's a little overgrown. It will need to be cleared."

"I can have someone take care of that while we're at school."

"The little cottage is in pretty bad shape. We could have it knocked down."

"I'll have it remodeled. It will take some time to build the house we envisioned. We can live in it while we wait."

"Sara! You will not pay for everything!"

"Why not? Would you stop being so damned chivalrous? We want to live a certain way and we have the means! Why not put it to good use? Is it really that important who pays for what? If it's that important, I will give you a loan for half and you can pay me back, but as far as I'm concerned what's mine is yours. Don't you plan to marry me Harry?"

Harry looked shocked. "Of course! I mean, if you want to."

"Then the money will be ours eventually, anyway."

Harry sighed, resigned. Arguing with her was simply impossible. "A loan it will have to be, Sara. I can't allow Snape's accusations to ring true, even the slightest bit."

"Okay, then. Let's go check out the cliffs."



The ocean pounded away at the rock wall as they lay prone on the ground, peering over the edge. There were many large boulders on either side of a clearing where someone had once anchored a boat and a narrow, uneven path jutted out of the cliff. It gave Harry an idea.

"We could cut into the cliff right there," he pointed. "Make a watery tunnel into an underground room."

"Brilliant, Harry! No one would ever see boats anchored outside. And we could put lots of spells on the entrance so it would go unnoticed. An easy escape if there was trouble."

"Already we're planning for trouble!"

"Better than being caught unprepared and without options."

"True." Harry pushed himself up and dusted off. "Is this where you want to live, Sara?"

"Yes! I love it! This is definitely where we should live. Can you picture it? Us, here, with our house? It would make me so happy, Harry. We would be happy. We'd be together."

He stood and helped her up. "Let's buy it."

Sara threw her arms around him. "Thank you! It's so perfect. I can't wait for us to live here together."

"We shouldn't tell anyone about it yet, though. We'll surprise everyone."

"Of course. But should we tell Ron and Hermione?"

"Not yet. Let's do some work on it first."

* * *

Sara insisted Harry keep the car until the end of the summer. He protested at first but, when she mentioned how it might affect the Dursleys, he warmed to the idea. They knew how he hated having to get up so early to walk to work and even worse, dragging himself home after such a long day that it would burn them to no end to no longer have the pleasure of that particular torture. She allowed him to offer to pay the lease and accepted, but as soon as Snape turned his back she took Harry's arm and told him not to think of it. It was already paid for, she told him, as she had planned this the day Hermione spoke to Dudley.

Ron and Hermione had come down into the pub to say their good-byes, but planned to stay another night, so they wouldn't be accompanying Harry, Sara, and Snape to King's Cross. Harry hugged Hermione, which was something he rarely did and gave Ron a sympathetic smile. Sara hugged and kissed them both. They all promised to write as Hermione pretended to be cheerful. Ron kept a comforting arm around her shoulders and Harry thought she looked emotionally shattered. He didn't want to leave without saying something to lift her spirits. She was always so strong, level headed and confident that he couldn't stand the sadness he saw in her eyes, but in the end he could think of nothing that would help. He gave her his warmest smile before leading Sara out the door.

It was easier than he thought, saying goodbye to Sara. They were ecstatic over the property. Sara had phoned the agent and her lawyer, Brad Silverman, who set up payment and would handle the transaction. They’d had a quick meeting with the agent, signing papers, on their return from the coast. The lots would be theirs very soon and they could start having work done on the land and on the little cottage. They agreed not to start building until after they graduated so they could handle things themselves. Until then, it was their secret.

Sara whispered as she hugged him. "I'll see you in a couple of weeks."

Harry sighed, "It was so nice to see you again."

"We'll see each other soon, and we won't have to hide anymore."

One last kiss and she boarded the empty train. Snape looked over his shoulder as he climbed up behind her, "She'll be perfectly safe, Potter."

"Take care of her Severus." Harry grinned. "Or I'll kill you."

Snape actually smiled, then the door closed and he was gone. The train set off at once and Harry waved to Sara, who waved back, until he could see her no more.

* * *

The Dursleys were furious when Harry arrived alone and driving a Mercedes convertible. Uncle Vernon scowled and insisted he return the vehicle at once. Harry refused. Aunt Petunia argued that there wasn't enough room in the driveway for it, as it would block their car. Harry reasoned that he would be leaving first in the morning, and would be the last to return at night, so it really wasn't a problem. On weekends, he would park it on the street. Aunt Petunia argued that the neighbors would think he stole it.

Harry sighed, already exhausted by them. "Who steals a rental?"

Vernon’s face was turning a curious shade of crimson. "And who's paying? You must save your money! You will not return here! EVER!"

Harry smiled. "Don't worry about me coming back, because that’s all been taken care of. As for the car, Sara rented it for the summer, but she had to go back to Hog- uh, to school, so she's letting me run out the lease."

Petunia folded her arms and hissed her words. "If she can go back, then why can't you?!"

"She's the headmaster's niece, remember? She lives there." Harry's smile widened. "Besides, we purchased some land today. I won't need to come back here." Harry knew they’d promised not to tell anyone, but he couldn't help bringing it up. He knew they expected him to fail miserably and was only too happy to disappoint them.

Vernon's face was turning redder by the minute. "Where is this land?"

"It's on the channel. Five lots in a row at the top of the bluffs. Three are wooded and one has a little cottage. Sara says we’ll live there after graduation while we wait for the house to be built."

“He’s lying, Vernon.�

“I know, Petunia.� Vernon glared at Harry. “We’re not stupid, you know. You don’t honestly expect us to believe a load of nonsense like that?�

“Believe whatever you want. I really don’t care. I won’t be coming back either way.� Harry climbed the stairs, lugging his overstuffed backpack and some of his bags from Harvey Nichols. There were more in the car, but he'd have to make another trip. Harry smiled as he entered his room. He was happier than he'd ever been over a summer vacation and the future looked promising. Very promising indeed. Harry stood still for a moment, delight flooding his features as he remembered Sara's words. Don't you plan to marry me, Harry?

Thinking of Sara and the home they would have together, he made his way back out to the car and returned over-laden, only to find himself once again detained by his aunt and uncle.

"What is all this?" Vernon demanded, pawing over the shopping bags as Harry continued his balancing act. "Don't lie to me, boy! You're spending the money!"

"I told you, I'm not!"

Vernon grabbed a handful of Harry's unruly hair. "THEN YOU'VE RUN UP YOUR CREDIT!!"

Harry winced. "Sara bought me some clothes for my birthday! When we went to the Criterion! I didn't have anything to wear!"

"The Criterion? It's world-famous! They wouldn't let a... someone like you in a place like that. Stop lying right now!"

Harry shouted, growing annoyed. "I'm not lying! We have pictures coming! I'll show them to you!"

"Pictures?"

"Yes. At the Criterion."

"And who paid for that?" Vernon smiled as if he'd caught him with something at last and released Harry's head.

"Sara did."

Petunia smirked and re-crossed her arms. “How does a young girl have so much money? What exactly does she do for it?"

Harry leveled his gaze at his miserable aunt in silence, daring her to continue. When she said nothing, Harry narrowed his eyes further. "It's inheritance. In fact, she's filthy rich."

Delight crept into her scowl.

"I thought that might change things." Harry shoved his hands in his pockets and stepped closer, looking her square in the eye. "Her parents have been dead less than a year. Murdered by the same hand that killed my mum and dad." He felt his anger rising. "Don't ever be unkind to her again." He turned away and climbed the stairs, trying hard not to drop anything. He wasn't stepping out of his room for the rest of the night, even if he left a trail of new clothes behind him.

He’d just sat down at his desk when there came a soft knock. Curious, Harry opened the door and there was his enormous, piggish cousin Dudley.

Harry addressed him without patience. "What?"

Dudley leaned through the open door and whispered. "Harry, are all the girls at your school as pretty as those two?"

Harry shrugged and answered with honesty. "Not really. Most are just...average, I guess."

"What did you do to make her, you know, like you?"

"I didn't do anything."

"Then how did you meet her? You're not very handsome. Ugly, actually, and she's... beautiful."

"She plowed me over in the hall."

"That's it?"

"Yes, Dudley. That's the whole story. Now, if you don't mind, I have some things I want to do before I go to sleep."

"Will you be going for another weekend?"

"Probably not."

"If you do, can I come?"

Harry laughed. "No." He shut the door, snickering, and went back to his desk. He picked up his quill and wrote.

Professor Dumbledore,

Sara, Ron, Hermione and I had a wonderful time this weekend. I know you fear for Sara, and Voldemort did show up, as you know, but I handled the situation and Sara is safe. I can continue to protect her, this you know as well, which is why I don't understand why you did not allow me to accompany her back to Hogwarts. I'm sure you have your reasons, but without knowing what they are, it’s rather hard to understand.

As for the purpose of this letter, I need your help. I have been successful in thwarting Voldemort's attempts, but how do we get rid of him for good? Is Sara to live with this threat forever? Without your wisdom and vast knowledge of the dark arts, I am without a plan. You know his strengths and weaknesses better than anyone does. Perhaps together we can come up with something.

I just wanted to thank you. Sara's spirit is refreshed and she is happy once again. You made the right decision.

Sincerely,
Harry Potter

Harry folded and sealed the letter, opened his box of special paper, and changed quills.

Sara,
I trust the journey back to school was uneventful and tolerable at best, considering you were stuck on a train for hours with Snape. Personally, I would have lost my mind, but I know you get along with him better than I do.

You were right about the car. The Dursleys were furious and came up with every lame excuse on earth for me to return it. They said the neighbors would think I stole it. Does everyone worry so much about what the neighbors think? Then they said I couldn't have a car because Dudley didn't have one. On and on it went until they ran out of reasons and must have realized they sounded quite ridiculous. I have to admit, I told them about our land. I couldn't help it. It frustrated them to no end. I actually enjoyed the whole scene, as annoying as it was, because I'm so happy right now that nothing can ruin my mood. Not even the Dursleys.

I miss you already, but I face the next two weeks with optimism and without the powerless desperation I felt after our last goodbye. You should find someone to talk to. I have decided to write to Bill Weasley, asking for his thoughts on our situation. He's the closest thing I have to an adult brother, and he’s a right good chap. I suggest you try Mrs. Granger or Mrs. Weasley. I know you’ve spent time at Hermione’s and at the Burrow as well, but I suggest Mrs. Weasley. She's easy to talk to, full of good advice and a very caring person. She would be happy to help. After all, she's played mother to me many times and she's wonderful at it. I will send her an owl if you'd like.

I will write again tomorrow.
Love, Harry

Harry tied a letter to each of Hedwig's feet and gave her an affectionate pat on the head before sending her off. He opened the new spell book and picked up his quill, thinking a moment before beginning the opening statement.

Harry wrote at length and was surprised to see his messy hand reform into perfect, legible, flowing script that resembled his penmanship at its neatest. After this discovery, he barely formed words at all. Harry drew broken lines along the page and was delighted to see his thoughts take shape with minimal effort. By the time he'd finished, he still had over an hour before he would have to sleep and started recording a few of the spells and charms he found most useful, broken into categories of different levels of threat.

Harry had decided to devote the first part of his book to dealing with enemies. Whether they were troublesome Muggles, ruthless acquaintances, beasts, Dementors, or Voldemort himself, Harry listed tried and true ways of winning the day. Between each set of magical remedies, he spoke at length of his experiences and stated many personal opinions, as well as known truths and even a little of the wisdom he'd picked up here and there. When he laid down his quill, his eyes heavy, Harry was impressed with what he'd accomplished.

Thanks to the script-forming charm the book possessed, Harry thought as he pulled the covers over his shoulders, he would be able to complete the basic outline of what he had planned from beginning to end before returning to school. After that, he would use the little time he'd have in the evenings and on weekends to add afterthoughts, new information he might come across during the year, and anything else he was able to research in the school's library. Harry decided to send Ron a note the next night to fill him in on the books’ abilities, so he could get a head start as well. After all, the girls were far ahead of them in the construction of their books and would be annoyed if Harry and Ron showed up with little or nothing. Time would be hard to come by once classes were in full swing, with assignments, studying, Quidditch and finding time to spend with the girls. Concentrating on the body of their books would be near impossible. Best to get it done now.

Harry rolled over and his thoughts turned to the secret magic the books would perform after they used the binding spell. So far, none of them could think of anything great. His mind turned the question over and over, but the only things that came to mind were frivolous and unimportant. By the time he drifted off, an idea had begun to take shape. Lost in the folds of sleep, it would elude him for months.

* * *

All three of the Dursleys awaited him when he wandered in after work late Monday night. Harry found them in the kitchen, their attention focused on a package that lay, unopened, in the center of the table. Harry grew excited and took the empty chair, snatching up the heavy manila envelope.

Vernon pretended to be disinterested. "Your pictures?"

Harry looked at the return address and nodded.

"Well, let's see. Go on, open it."

Harry tore the heavy paper with enthusiasm. He'd been anticipating the arrival of Mr. Sanders' photographs, but hadn't expected to get them so soon. Harry guessed there were about twenty 8x10s, plus the copies of the best shot, which were wrapped and separate. These he set aside. Harry smiled at the one on top before handing it to his impatient uncle, who now had Petunia and Dudley hovering over either shoulder.

Uncle Vernon bellowed, incredulous. "What's this you're wearing? Is that a designer suit?"

Harry mumbled, too preoccupied to pay much attention. "Versace."

"You're all outside! How do we know you went in?"

"Turned away at the door, I'll wager," Petunia added, her snide tone lost on Harry, who sat smiling at image after image.

"Did you hear me, boy? You didn't go in, did you?"

Harry dropped the pictures on the table, where they were snatched up by Dudley and Mrs. Dursley. He left his seat and stormed out of the room.

Harry returned a moment later and dropped a pack of matches in front of his uncle. He’d put them in the pocket of his jacket as a souvenir.

Uncle Vernon turned them over in his large, thick hands. "These are matches."

"Yes. Matches from the Criterion."

"The only thing this proves is that you've taken up smoking!"

"I have a feeling you wouldn't believe me, even if I brought back my dinner and the Maitre D!" Harry gave a sigh of frustration. "And I haven't taken up smoking. You said we hadn't gone inside. Those prove we did. They don't have someone handing out matches on the sidewalk."

Vernon’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. "What did it look like?"

Harry yelled, exasperated. "Oh for Merlin’s sake!" He recounted the atmosphere and the decor, right down to the appearance of his chair. He described the Maitre D, their server, and the pattern of the silverware. He told them what he and each of his friends had for dinner, even sketched the restaurant’s layout on Mr. Sanders’ envelope.

His uncle had run out of questions. "Humph. They must be lowering their standards. They'll have a drive-up window next."

Harry gathered up the pictures and reclaimed his matches, carrying them back to his room. He'd ignored the owls in his hurry to find proof of his visit to the famous restaurant, but now he gave them his full attention. Ron's yellowish owl was resting on the back of the chair next to Hedwig. Harry lifted Ron's bird, last year's birthday gift from Hermione and himself, and petted his head at bit. "Hello there, Hemmingway. Are you hungry?"

The owl gave a short hoot, which Harry took as a yes, and deposited him in Hedwig's cage.

Harry sat in the chair and Hedwig jumped onto his shoulder. He felt her soft feathers rub against his cheek, her favorite show of affection. He ran a hand over her wing before opening his letters, Ron's first.

Harry,
I thought you'd like to know that Fred and George expanded into the neighboring storefront today, (the one I pointed out,) and will be remodeling it all week. I'm glad I bought that extra floo powder! We'll all be using it to help them. Dad and I are going every morning after work. Mum and Ginny have been bringing them meals and even Percy took the time to help put up shelves. They've been stockpiling extra merchandise all year and have a sizable inventory already. I'll keep you updated. Fred and George ask that you come in on re-opening day, which is this Saturday, because they have a surprise for you. Believe me, Harry; you're going to love it!

You'll never believe what happened! I've been named Head Boy! Mum and Dad got the letter while we were in London and they couldn't be more pleased. I don't understand why they picked me of all people. I do well enough in my classes, but I can't possibly have the best grades in the whole school! The first few years we hardly even studied! Well, not like Hermione did, anyway, and that's what it takes, we both know that. I was surprised enough to be chosen as a Prefect! As bewildering as it is, I'll take it. After all, I don't have much chance of being named Quidditch Captain now, do I? (I can't wait to see Malfoy's face!)

I've got some great ideas for my spell book. I'm going to write a whole section based on applying the strategies of chess to any sort of hostile confrontation. I've thought of a whole slew of spells, charms, potions, and general trickery that work well with the theories I plan to present. I also want to include a section on the benefits of charming certain Muggle artifacts and how they could be of use to wizards. Fred and George are the inspiration for yet another section I want to write. Can you guess what that's about? That's right, creative dueling. There are some really hilarious things you can do to people! Last week Fred gave our mother wooden legs and I just about laughed myself silly, watching her shuffle around the house until my father came home.

I plan to spend at least an hour each day writing, just so the girls don't bloody kill me, but I doubt it will amount to much. Maybe fifteen or twenty pages at best. I'll have to write big so it looks like more.

On a different note, I understand you know what happened with Hermione and I. Got any advice? You know her well enough, and I'm not exactly good with words. She won’t talk about it and I know she's upset. Mum knew there was something wrong the minute I got home and she managed to get it out of me. I thought she'd be disappointed, but she was really great. She seems to think that if we give it some time, we'll both feel better about it, but I don't know. Hermione seems different, but Mum says she'll be all right. What do you think?

Your Friend,
Ron

Ron,

Congratulations! I can't believe your luck! My best friends are Head boy and Head Girl. (Just like my parents were.) And me Quidditch Captain. Throw Sara into the mix and what a team we'll make! As for your bewilderment, don't be so hard on yourself. Grades can't be all they consider. You have original ideas and an understanding of concepts that far exceed what we're taught. Obviously, our teachers have recognized your potential.

This is reflected in the design you have chosen for your spell book. How original! I can't wait to read it, it sounds very interesting. I would never consider the application of chess strategies to anything except chess. And creative dueling! Another stroke of genius! All I've come up with is dealing with enemies. How thoroughly mundane. I was becoming quite vain about it until I read your letter. Keep thinking! And you don't have to write big. In fact, you don't have to write at all! Last night I discovered that all you have to do is move the quill and your words will form themselves. After that, I did little more than scribble and wrote about forty pages. Let's just hope the girls haven't caught on, or they'll beat us to the finish yet again.

As for the situation with Hermione, I'm afraid I can't be of much help. Your mother is probably right, though. Hermione knows how much you care for her. It's not the end of the world. Hermione will be okay. She's a survivor.

Tell Fred and George I will be glad to visit their shop on Saturday. Send along my congratulations on the expansion as well. The fact that they have a surprise for me, to be honest, fills me with dread. I can only imagine! Will I see you there?

The pictures from the Criterion came today, so I'm sending you one of the copies Sara ordered and one for Hermione as well. I know you'll be writing to her before I get the chance, so please pass it along. As for the rest, I'll have to wait to see what Sara wants to do with them, since they belong to her. I can't wait for Sara to see them! They're great!

Harry

P.S. Malfoy is going to turn six shades of purple!

Harry wrapped the pictures and the letter in brown paper and sent Hemmingway back to Ron. He sat back down with Sara's letter and was glad he'd read Ron's first.

Harry opened the box of stationary and picked up the green quill. He first related the good news about Ron, told her about Fred and George's grand re-opening, bragged about how much he'd accomplished on his spell book, and then addressed her concerns.

While she was gone, Dumbledore had moved her piano into the dining hall and expects her to play for the students on a regular basis. Harry knew how she felt about public performances, even for an audience of one, and felt terrible for her. Sara had to be comfortable, for she possessed a sort of modesty that amounted to profound stage fright. Her mother, she claimed, had been at ease performing, but Sara was horrified by, and quite frightened at, the prospect. Harry knew Sara had a talent that far surpassed her mother's and mentioned the fact in his letter, but it would do no good. He could only offer encouragement. Sara would have to face her fear all by herself.

On top of that, and in Harry's opinion far worse, Snape was sleeping in Sara's tower, stretched out on the sofa by the fireplace. She was still made to close the doors at night and wasn't happy about it, but she agreed it was a fair compromise. Besides, she was getting used to it. It was either that, or the cell she'd occupied before her escape attempt.

Snape, she claimed, was decent company. Harry found it impossible to believe, but Sara said they'd had two "lovely" evenings of discussion and listening to music. It wasn't the worst that could have happened, but she didn't understand why she couldn't open the doors if Snape was right there. Harry chose his words with care when his answer was that, on his own, Snape couldn't protect himself against Voldemort, much less someone else. He reminded her of how easily Voldemort, nowhere near his full strength, had propelled Snape across the room at the Leaky Cauldron only days before. He had to tiptoe around the issue, making her understand without leaving her feeling unprotected and vulnerable. Harry thought Snape was better than nothing, and was glad he was there, even though he couldn't help feeling envious and disliked the potions professor even more.

In fact, the only good news was that Sara had convinced Dumbledore that Hogwarts needed to have more parties with music and dancing, tables of food, Butterbeer by the keg and bowls of punch, among other things. So far, she'd said, he had agreed to make the Yule Ball an annual event. Plus, there would be a Valentine's dance. Sara claimed it would have a light romantic theme, with roses for sale all that day. Plus, there would be chocolate sculptures and tables loaded with desserts. Also, a big party on St. Patrick's Day with prizes for the best all-green outfits and an Irish-themed talent show. (Sara claimed she would sing a U2 song, but Harry doubted she would go through with it.) It sounded like fun and Sara had been appointed to head the not-yet-formed Party Committee. One more thing to keep her mind occupied. Harry thought it was a wonderful idea and evidently, so did Dumbledore.

By the time Fawkes flew through the window, Harry was so tired he could barely see, but he was so anxious to read the message from Dumbledore that his weariness all but deserted him. Harry was surprised to see Fawkes instead of one of the school owls, but was glad Dumbledore had sent him. He loved the sight of the enormous red and gold bird, so interesting and regal in appearance, that Harry wished he could have a phoenix as well. They were as rare as his invisibility cloak, if not more so. He lit on Harry's shoulder and pushed his head against the side of Harry's face, as Hedwig often did, and made to fly off.

"Wait, Fawkes! You can bring a letter to Sara. Hedwig is tired."

The grand bird wrapped his talons around the back of Harry's chair. "Just let me read this first. You can rest while I do."

Dear Harry,

In response to the questions you posed in your letter, I have this to say. Now that I know a threat lingers so near to my niece, I can adequately provide protection for her, as long as the doors to her rooms are not flung wide for every passing intruder. (She has become more sensible in that respect and is complying admirably.) Also, she is now well guarded. I know you may think Severus Snape inadequate against such a formidable opponent, but rest assured; the villain need only be dispatched. There is no real threat of danger to her life as long as she keeps her wits about her and I have explained this to Sara at length. There is of course, some, but in a crisis, Sara can defend herself. However, it is this, for the most part, that need be avoided. That concealment is crucial. I believe you understand the nature of Voldemort’s attacks.

As you can see, your involvement is not necessary until the start of term, when Professor Snape will no longer be available to stand guard over Sara. It is not, as you believe, because I did not consider your request. On the contrary, I have a good knowledge of your capabilities, especially concerning this particular wizard, and believe you to be sincere in your devotion to Sara's safety. However, because your presence for the next couple of weeks is not necessary, and also due to a prior commitment to your employer, (which I commend you on,) I decided you should remain with your relatives until your scheduled return.

As for your determination to find a permanent solution to the problem at hand, there are aspects, only recently come to our attention, that need careful consideration before any planning can be done or action taken. I will explain this to you in person and I know you will appreciate the perplexity of this new twist. There are options, Harry, but those options are few and perilous.

Best Regards,
Albus Dumbledore

Harry turned his attention to Fawkes. "It doesn't sound very promising, does it?"

The phoenix gave no response.

Harry gave Fawkes the letter he'd written to Sara and carried the heavy bird to the open window on his shoulder. "I'll see you soon. Have a safe trip back."

In a graceful flutter, he was gone.

* * *

Saturday finally rolled around and Harry made his way into London. The weather was still nice enough, but summer was drawing to an end in dreary old England and the air had taken a chill. The sun shone in brilliant protest and Harry drove with the top down, thinking it was no worse than playing Quidditch in early spring. The wind whipped his untamed hair as he smiled, humming along to the radio.

He parked the Mercedes and hurried into the Leaky Cauldron, stopping to have a Butterbeer and pass a few minutes with Tom, the bartender. He said a few hellos around the room, and then made his way through the back and into Diagon Alley.

Harry shifted the gift he carried and made his way into a packed house. The patrons were mostly young boys, but there were adults there as well. Quite a few of them in fact, all come to browse the new, enlarged store. The side wall had been knocked out, and the combined showroom was huge.

Harry found Fred and George behind the new checkout counter, along the back of the shop, boasting of the awesome effects of their infamous tongue swelling candy. Harry laid the gift on the counter and waited for them to finish, watching Ron run the register. He hadn't seen Harry come in.

Fred yelled in greeting and a genuine smile bloomed on his face. "Hey Cap'n!" He was soon joined by his twin who gave Harry the same salute.

Harry hadn't realized how much he'd missed their vivacious antics and was happy to be back in their company. His smile grew and he pushed the frame at them, wrapped in paper and a bow.

Harry grinned. "Got you something. It’ll bring good luck."

Fighting over who got to unwrap it, the twins tore the paper off in less than a second.

Fred grinned. "Wow, Harry! This is great!"

George agreed. "Good luck indeed! Thanks Harry! We have to hang it right away, or else we'll be jinxed." George took off with the frame, which held an enlargement of the picture by Harry's bed. The Champion Gryffindor Quidditch team from last term, their last game together. He knew they would love it, and he could tell they were sincere.

People gathered around to get a look at what George was hanging and Harry cringed when he began to hear his name pass many lips from the legion of shoppers behind him. "Harry Potter?" and "Isn't that Harry Potter?" as well as "You know Harry Potter?"

George started bragging. "Harry's the best Quidditch player in the world! Why, he's our Captain!"

Harry almost laughed at the chaotic murmur this statement prompted, which of course, encouraged George. "He's a right horrible git. Very ugly and downright rude if you ask me. If it wasn't for Quidditch, why I'd have no use for the foul prat!"

There were many shocked and surprised whispers and even a few gasps among the listeners, which was just about everyone in the place. Harry even heard one It can't be!

George cracked a smile. "Isn't that right, Cap'n?"

Mortified, Harry sneaked a peek at his friend on the stepstool, only to find the whole gathering looking at him. He swiped his hair over his forehead, but it was too late.

"It's him! It's Harry Potter!"

At once, Harry was surrounded and shaking countless hands that didn't seem to be attached to any particular face. Everyone was greeting him at once and Harry felt thrust into the spotlight. He was mobbed, but managed a glance over at Ron, who was grinning.

"Hi ya, Harry!" Ron yelled.

"Hi Ron!" Harry yelled back. When he faced front again, there was George, his hair parted to reveal his forehead, upon which was a lightning shaped scar. Harry was shocked for a moment, and then burst into wild laughter.

George peeled it off, gave it a wave, then stuck it back on and turned to the customers. "Harry Potter scars, only a five Knuts each! They're reusable! The cheapest Halloween costume you can find!"

Fred grinned. "You can have a free one, Harry. On the house!"

Harry laughed. "Thanks, but where would I put it?"

George gave his brother a wink. "Hey Fred, go get it."

Fred disappeared into the back.

George chuckled. “You’re gonna love this."

"Then why am I nervous?"

"Don't worry, Harry! It won't hurt much. You'll recover in a few days."

Fred reemerged and laid something on the counter. Ironically, it was frame shaped.

Harry picked it up and was laughing in an instant. It was a wizard photograph, the kind that moved, and the scene played over and over. Harry laughed until his words were choked with giggles and his stomach was on the verge of cramps. "This... is… the funniest thing...I've ever seen!" He watched the picture again and again as he and Malfoy raced toward the grass at lighting speed. Harry's image pulled up, but Malfoy and his Firebolt exploded into the ground in a cloud of dust and broom shards, then started again from the beginning.

Fred pulled out his wand and tapped the frame. "Audio!"

The excited voice of Lee Jordan boomed from within the picture. “Harry Potter ANNIHILLATES Draco Malfoy with the Wronski Feint! Harry Potter RULES!�

Ron shouted over his shoulder as he rang sales and gave change. "I told you you'd like it, Harry! I laughed for days!"

Fred leaned in, as if in confidence. "A friend of mine took that. He put a spell on it. It'll never stop replaying itself. It really aught to put Malfoy in a state."

Harry was still flushed from laughing. "I love it! And to think, I was certain I’d need the apothecary when I left here."

George beamed with pride. "That was the greatest moment in the history of Quidditch! Good thing we made plenty of copies! We’re selling them for six Knuts each." He turned and raised his voice. "Watch the greatest Quidditch player at Hogwarts perform the most dangerous maneuver in the history of sports!"

Fred chimed in. "And the fellow on the ground finally gets his come-uppance!" Fred turned back to Harry. "We could make a fortune off you!"

"Glad to be of service, gentlemen, but I must be going. I've some landscaping jobs lined up and I still have a few stops to make. The place is great! Thanks for the picture!"

"Same to you, Cap'n!" The twins stood at attention and gave him a military salute, as usual.

Harry waved and left the store wearing an enormous smile.

* * *

Harry spent over an hour in one of the mall's specialty stores, selecting what he'd come for with care. He left having spent more than forty percent of the contents of his bank account, which should have concerned him a great deal, but the only things he felt were hope and elation. It was an old-fashioned, Muggle gesture, but it was worth it.

The long drive home was pleasant, if not a little brisk, but Harry didn't notice. He'd taken to playing the stereo very loud and had bought a second-hand Beatles CD, which he listened to most of the time. His thoughts were trained on the future, of spending his last year at Hogwarts with the girl he loved and his two best friends. Of yet another triumphant season of Quidditch, graduation and the freedom that came with it. And of the box on the seat beside him.

His thoughts went farther, to sharing the little cottage with Sara while the house they dreamed of came to fruition only meters away. He wondered what sort of work he would be doing by then and imagined himself making loads of money. He smiled as he envisioned their wedding day, with all their friends in attendance and smiles on their faces, Sara radiant in a beautiful white gown. The threat to her vanquished.

* * *

Friday arrived and Harry made his last bank deposit. Mr. Spaulding at the office had shaken Harry's hand and asked him to return at the end of the school year for permanent employment in the company. The man who'd once glared at Harry with distrust even promised a more befitting position with a wage to go with it. Harry was most pleased and thanked him, but knew he would never see Mr. Spaulding again. He would say goodbye to this particular section of England the next morning and, hopefully, never return.

The send-off they gave him at the market was rather touching and Harry found he was sad to be leaving. At break time, he wandered into the staff room only to find the other employees he worked with, even those who had the night off, as well as the manager and several cashiers waiting. They'd brought a cake and threw him a little good-bye party.

Arriving back at four Privet Drive, Harry by-passed the kitchen and went straight to his room where he found Hedwig returned and a note from Sara on the desk. There was a letter from Bill Weasley, too, and a strange bird in Hedwig's cage.

Harry was annoyed by the presumptuous bird and felt bad for Hedwig. Who knows how long she’d been resting on the chair, afraid to enter her cage? "Why don't you just make yourself at home?"

"Make yourself at home!" the bird repeated, squawked, and then said the phrase a second time. Harry laughed and his attitude toward the multi-colored spectacle lightened. It resembled a parrot, though not a breed he'd ever seen. He wondered where Bill had acquired it and decided to read his correspondence first. He'd written more than a week ago and had been awaiting Bill’s reply with something akin to impatience.

Dear Harry,

It was nice of your girlfriend to lend you the owl. Unfortunately, it died. The poor thing barely made it here and I did my best to care for it, but it eventually succumbed to exhaustion and the malady that caused it. I had to send Topenga in its place. Please give Sara my apologies and the replacement bird. She eats parrot food.

Thank you for the pictures. I was shocked by Hermione's appearance. I don't remember her being so pretty! What did she do to her hair? Didn't she have buckteeth? It can't all be spells, can it? We both know it isn’t my brother’s influence. Rather odd pair, aren’t they? And then there's your Sara. Wow, Harry! I’m impressed! She's quite the looker. You should be proud of yourself!

The four of you together in your proper evening attire make a rather attractive group! I wish I could have been there. Fleur and I would have been the perfect compliment ha ha.

The Quidditch pictures are just great! I swear, the lot of you look so happy; I can't help but grin while looking at it. Makes me want to jump on a broom for old times’ sake. I really miss those days. Congratulations on yet another win, you deserve it! Congrats as well on making captain, though I don’t know how you kept the twins in line for an entire season. The Slytherins must be “green� with envy ha ha.

As for your questions, Harry, I have to admit, I was never good with the long-term aspect. I'll do my best, but I doubt I'll be much help. Women are complicated. That is a well-known fact, but there are simple rules to follow.

1. You'll never talk her into or out of something once she's made up her mind, so learn to compromise. They respond better to that. Also, she'll change her mind so many times it'll make your head spin.

2. Choose your words carefully. They're sensitive and, once you've said the wrong thing, you can't take it back.

3. Be honest and sincere. (No doubt you are.) Regaining the trust of someone you love is incredibly difficult. Deception of any kind lingers in the back of her mind long after she’s forgiven you.

4. Give her the space she needs. You were right about not wanting to push her. Regrets can be the downfall of even the closest relationship.

She keeps changing her mind because she's afraid of that very thing. You have proven perceptive in that respect. You listen to her. She loves you, wants to take your relationship to another level, and is, in a sense, trying to push herself into something she isn't ready for. As difficult as it can be, especially for a teenager, you have no choice but to be patient.

It was a good idea, suggesting she talk to Mum. Sara feels lost without her own and, even though she shows adult restraint and reasoning, she needs guidance. You do as well, and I wish I could ease your mind, but this is the extent of my knowledge. You're a good, moral person, Harry. You're doing just fine. Sara will be lucky to have you as a husband.

Congratulations on the purchase of your property! How exiting for you both. The house you envision sounds great and I promise to visit you there next time I’m home. I'll look forward to it.

Bill

Harry's spirit lightened even more. Bill’s advice helped set him at ease. He was doing things right, it seemed, and Sara was feeling lost and uncertain. Thinking of Sara, he opened her letter.

Harry,

We'll see each other tomorrow at last! Can you believe our wait is finally over? Are you as excited as I am? I have to admit, the prospect of going to classes with the other students instead of following them on the map or watching them wander the grounds from the roof of the tower fills me with anticipation. I also love the idea of seeing you during the day and in a more social setting. You have to agree, the whole Rapunzel thing was a little strange. Being so removed, yet so close.

I have been thinking about the "advancement" of our relationship, but I fear I'm still not ready. I have so many personal issues I need to work out. Only now that I've been apart from my Riesling and no longer preoccupied with my "imprisonment," have I really started to deal with the death of my parents. For so long, I tried to pretend it didn't happen and pushed away my grief, allowing only brief moments of understanding. I have found that deciding to create a more powerful bond with someone I love while coming to grips with such a tremendous loss is overwhelming and lends to my confusion. I know it is frustrating for you, as it is for me too, but I ask that you give me a little more time. I know you understand and I am grateful.

I also have to admit that what happened to Ron and Hermione has left me terrified. I've tried to rationalize it, knowing you and I will do things right when the time comes, but it has put a fear in the back of my mind. The same thing almost happened to us! If I hadn’t fallen asleep, I believe it would have. The thought scares me. I don't want a moment of poor judgment to jeopardize the life we will have together. We'll talk more when you arrive.

Park the car at King's Cross Station, put the keys in the glove box, set the alarm and lock the doors. I have arranged for a rental agent to pick it up there. I hope you enjoyed it. We'll buy a new convertible after graduation and you can drive me around in it.

Brad Silverman, my barrister, tells me we will be closing on the property in about a week! I'm so excited I can hardly contain myself! Imagine… a big empty lot. The plans we can make! We'll spend all year designing.

Anyway, don't bother to respond tonight. I'll see you tomorrow. ( !!! )

Love Always, Sara

Harry put the letters into his trunk with mixed feelings. He was excited to see Sara, couldn’t wait in fact, but she was so troubled. Should they lighten their relationship until she was more stable? He wanted to be sensitive and considerate, he loved Sara, but what she described could take years. Harry sighed. There was nothing he could do. He would wait forever if she asked him to.

Harry broke the rules and used magic to create extra space in his trunk. He had to pack everything he owned, not that he required a moving van, but his collection of stuff had grown over the years and, with the clothes Sara bought him, it was impossible to get it all in.

Closing the lid, he opened it again to reveal a new set of contents. "Cool," he said and grinned, raising and lowering the lid over and over again. He made one last trip around his room, checking to make sure everything was in the trunk and when he was satisfied that it was, he went down to the kitchen for some tea and a biscuit or two.

Aunt Petunia was still up, and sitting at the kitchen table. A small box near to one hand, a scattering of papers and photographs before her. She looked upset and Harry wondered if he should leave. Hesitating in the doorway for a moment, he’d made up his mind to go back to his room when she spoke.

"Harry?"

"Yes Aunt Petunia?"

"Sit down. I have something for you."

Harry took the seat across from her, unused to the soft tone in her hushed voice. He waited.

"This box came from my mother's house. It's been in the attic for years. I’d forgotten about it, but it belongs to you. Take it with you tomorrow." She got up to leave.

"Wait. What are all these things?"

"They're pictures, obviously. Of my sister and I when we were children. Before all that foolishness started."

"Can't you put all that aside for just a little while? Aunt Petunia, tell me about my mother. The nice things you remember. Anything. Please? I'll make us some tea."

"Well, I don't see what it can hurt. Sit down, Harry. I'll get the tea."

* * *

Harry awoke to the smell of bacon wafting up to greet him in his bed, and his stomach gave a rumble of approval. Slipping on his glasses, he was startled and disoriented at the appearance of his room, empty, except for his trunk and Hedwig's cage. The walls bare. It took a moment to remember that he was leaving today. At last, saying goodbye to the Dursleys, never to return. He would never see this room again. The thought frightened him a little, though it did not make him sad.

Uncle Vernon's booming voice bellowed up at him from downstairs. "Get up, boy! Don't you dare miss that train!"

The train to Hogwarts, Harry thought as an enormous smile planted itself on his face. He would see Ron and Hermione in just a few hours and, awhile after that, they would reunite with Sara.

"I'm up! I'll be right down!" Only part of his mind was on breakfast. The rest was anxious to feel at home in his school uniform and robe, with his wand at the ready instead of crammed, uncomfortable, in his sock. He couldn't wait to walk the halls as a seventh year student. Pulling a light jumper over his head, he made for the door.

In the kitchen, the Dursleys were just finishing and Vernon had taken up The London Times. A plate was set for him and he ate with an insatiable hunger. Dudley's eyes were trained on the TV and Petunia was gathering dishes.

"Hurry up so I can wash the plate."

"I'm almost finished." Harry polished off the scrambled eggs and bacon, gulped down his orange juice, folded his toast in half and ate it in three bites, then handed his plate, glass, and silverware to his aunt, who was rather quiet this morning. Harry couldn't help thinking the memories she'd shared the night before had saddened her a little. He found he almost felt bad for her. She'd been close to pleasant as they'd gone through the old photos and odds and ends in the box.

It perplexed him, confused his emotions, the way she had shown him occasional moments of kindness this summer. Uncle Vernon complimenting his driving, Aunt Petunia giving him mementos of his mother, even Dudley asking to tag along on a weekend trip. They despised him to his very core and he knew it. Perhaps it was just because he was leaving.

"Your train leaves at eleven?"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon. I need to leave soon. I have to make a stop on the way as well. Is there a pet shop near King's Cross, do you know?"

"I believe there's one in that little plaza just before you make the turn."

"Great. Well, I'd better load the car. Thank you for breakfast, Aunt Petunia. I was starving."

She half-smiled. "Best to leave on a full stomach. Dudley, help Harry with his trunk so he doesn't mark up the floor."

For the first time Harry could remember, Dudley didn't argue.

Harry went up the stairs and grabbed a handle, but Dudley stood at the other end of the trunk, making no motion to lift it. Harry straightened. "What?"

"Really, Harry. How did you meet that girl? Did you use magic?"

Harry smiled in spite of himself. He couldn't believe Dudley was asking him about girls. Dudley hated him. "I told you how we met."

"After that!"

Harry smirked as Dudley's face reddened.

"Did you use one of those love potions? Slip it into her drink? I want one if you did."

"I did nothing of the sort! We just have a lot in common. I didn't use any sort of alternative means."

"Could I go to your school? Would they let me in do you think?"

Harry was shocked. After all Dudley's attempts to get his parents to throw Harry out, make him sleep in the yard, or just plain distrust him even more, Dudley wanted to go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He couldn't wait to tell Ron and Hermione.

"I think if your parents heard you say that, we'd both be put through the ringer." Harry grinned. "You have to be invited there. They send letters to people who are... predisposed."

"So all the girls are freaks anyway? Like you?"

"In your world, yes." Harry glanced at the clock and sighed. "Now grab an end."

* * *

"Now remember, Harry, if you show up here next year you won't be taken in! You are your own man now."

"Don't worry, Uncle Vernon. Sara and I have everything worked out and we both have money saved. I won't be back. I can assure you of that."

"Already planning to live in sin, are you?" Aunt Petunia asked. The usual poison was gone from her voice, but still her eyes narrowed as she looked at Harry.

Without a word, Harry rummaged in his bag until his fingers found the little velvet box he'd purchased a week before. He opened it and held it out to her.

"That's very proper of you, but you're young. Don't be so foolish."

"I don't plan to give it to her until school's out." Harry closed the box and returned it to the backpack. "And don't worry, Uncle Vernon. I still have enough saved to get me through."

"I hope so, Harry, for your sake. If you run into trouble, Mr. Spaulding said he'll take you back."

"I have to go now. I don't want to miss the train. Goodbye Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia. Goodbye Dudley. Good Luck."

Uncle Vernon chuckled. "Good luck to you, too, Harry. You'll need it, I’m certain of that."

"Stay out of trouble," Aunt Petunia told him. "And treat the girl well."

Harry smiled. "I will. Good bye."

He hurried to the Mercedes and jumped behind the wheel, turning to wave one last time before pulling away from the curb.

As soon as he was out of sight, it was all he could do to keep his exhilaration from spilling out of his mouth. By the time he'd reached the highway, he could control it no longer. He beeped his horn, raised a fist in the air and shouted as loud as he could. "I'M FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!"

Harry set the CD to play Revolution, turned it up as loud as it would go and sang along, a huge grin on his face and all the dimness gone from his heart. He was free.

* * *

The Girl in the Tower



Part Two: Blind Faith



Chapter 8: The Orb of Arassel





"Come on, Harry! Hurry up!" Ron beckoned from the top of the steps.

Harry stood, smiling up at the enormous front doors, feeling a kind of warm, fuzzy nostalgia. It was the warmth and contentment one must feel coming home after a long prison sentence.

Harry pushed the Dursleys out of his mind. Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley were a part of the past now. He was on his own and his mind raced with the excitement of it. Some small part of him saddened at the loss of his only living blood relatives, the only real ties he had to his parents, disagreeable as they were. There were none on his father's side that he knew of, and Harry felt alone in the world. That same small part of him was a little scared. He had his friends though, and he had the whole Weasley clan, who he considered his surrogate family, and of course, the grandfatherly Professor Dumbledore. Then there was Sara, who he loved without reserve, who wanted to know if he was planning to make her his wife, and who filled him with hope for the future.

"Harry! We'll end up sitting with the first years!"

Hermione smiled at his wistful expression. "Are you going to make Sara wait for you all night?"

Still smiling, Harry ran to catch up.

Taking seats among the other Gryffindors, Harry looked for Sara. All the teachers were there, even Professor Trelawney, but there was no sign of her apprentice.

Hermione leaned in to whisper. "Where is she?"

Harry shrugged and turned back to the sorting ceremony, struggling to pay attention.

Farther down the table, Dean Thomas turned to Seamus Finnegan. "Why's there a piano in here?"

Seamus looked as bewildered as Dean and shrugged his shoulders. “Dunno.�

Dean sighed. "I guess we'll find out."

Poor Sara, Harry thought, giving the piano a glance just as Dumbledore stood to give the usual announcements.

"In addition, I would like to introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Adolphus Morgio. Professor Morgio has been hard at work for many years, tracking our darkest adversaries, and has many a disturbing tale I'm sure. He should prove a most able and interesting teacher."

Professor Morgio gave a slight nod, offered a severe and miserable smile, and lowered into his chair, swatting back a tuft of what looked to be rather greasy black hair. His long, pointy nose and sallow skin paled in stark contrast to the rich firelight. His small black eyes, set deep in discolored sockets, darted among the tables until they landed on Harry. When Morgio found Harry looking right at him, he was quick to turn his face, contorted in a permanent scowl, away in obvious discomfort. Harry's eyes narrowed as he studied the man. Long white fingers fidgeted, nervous.

Dumbledore beckoned to the dark recesses behind the head table, drawing Harry's attention away from the new teacher. "I would like to introduce Sara Lemke. She will be Professor Trelawney's apprentice and will assist with Divination classes."

Sara, wearing a beautiful, lustrous deep purple robe, emerged from the shadows behind the head table with visible trepidation and took the empty chair next to Trelawney, smiling at the enthusiastic welcome from the tables. Harry's heart sank as he glanced at the empty space next to him, which he'd saved for her.

Dumbledore had more to say, but waited for silence to fall before he spoke. "Sara will also attend some classes with the seventh year students and, though she has her own private quarters, she will be considered a Gryffindor for scheduling purposes. However, she will not earn points for her house.

“So, since there is nothing else I would like to discuss, I assume we're all hungry?" The old wizard clapped his hands once and held them out to encompass the four long tables. The feast materialized onto golden plates and platters and everyone dug in, the room erupting in conversation.

Harry kept his gaze on Sara, whose eyes roamed the tables, searching for him. When she found him, a wide smile broadened her face. She mouthed the words “After we eat.� Harry nodded his understanding.

Harry was ravenous, almost keeping up with Ron, but the meal seemed to take centuries. Dessert appeared and everyone lingered over puddings, cakes, and pies, spending more time chatting and less time eating. Harry was getting antsy, daydreaming about walking up to the head table but, no matter how he constructed the imagery, it always ended the same, with everyone staring. Sara, it seamed, had also lost patience, for she appeared at Harry's side before the food was cleared and slid into the vacant spot. She hugged him and pecked his cheek.

Harry glanced at Neville and Seamus, who were staring open-mouthed, and a modest grin touched his lips. People were always dazzled by Sara's beauty, liked her warm, easy smile and admired her charm and refined manor. It made Harry proud just to be in her company and the fact that she called herself his girlfriend was like winning the grand prize in the Lottery of Significant Others.

"I can't wait to give you a real kiss," she smiled. "I'd do it now, but we'll get in trouble. Hi guys!" Sara beamed at Ron and Hermione. "How was the train?"

Hermione sighed. "Long."

Ron sighed as well. "Boring. You'd think a wizarding school would have better transportation. Make the train a giant port key. That's what I say."

"Maybe you should bring it up to Professor Dumbledore. It's not a bad idea."

"Everyone could get in and then bam! Here we are." Ron continued shoveling apple pie into his mouth.

Harry smiled at Sara. "He says that every year."

The discussion was interrupted by Seamus, who blew up his drink. Sara pointed a discrete finger at his cup and muttered a few words under her breath.

"Hey!" Seamus brightened. His hair and were face blackened by soot. "It worked!" He sipped the contents and wrinkled his nose. "Tastes a little charred, but it's whiskey a’right!"

Dean held out his hand. "Let me see!" He smelled the liquid in the cup and then took a cautious drink. "Seamus! You did it! And it only took a year!" Dean took a big swig, grimaced, and handed it back. "You'll have to make some more later, but try not to burn it."

Harry leaned close to Sara’s ear, amused. "Why'd you do that? He'll be blowing up his drink at every meal now."

"He lacks confidence, Harry. He needs to believe he can do it."

Harry chuckled. "He needs his own fire brigade. Sara, are you to sit with the teachers all the time?"

"No, just tonight. I hope you'll be saving me a seat again."

"I thought perhaps you'd like to sit with Malfoy off and on."

"I would, but since I'm a Gryffindor, I guess I'll have to sit with you. Pity." She smiled and took his hand under the table. "Will I be seeing you tonight?"

"As soon as I can get away."

"Don't be long."

"I won't linger in the dorms, you can bet on that." Harry's smile warmed as he looked at her. "I can't wait to get away from all these prying eyes." He squeezed her hand under the table. "But tell me, who is this new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Morgio? What have you learned about him? He looks... greasy."

Ron and Hermione leaned in to listen.

"Not much so far. He's been on assignment with the ministry, looking for Voldemort for several years and has only recently returned. He claims never to have found him."

"Sounds boring, chasing after someone, year after year." Ron shook his head. "After a year or two you'd think he'd give up."

Hermione agreed. "I imagine after that long I'd realize it wasn't going to plan."

"He has a bit of a hygiene problem if you ask me," Sara continued in a loud whisper. "And he keeps rodents as pets! I saw him with one on his shoulder down in the dungeons when I was going to see Severus. It's downright creepy if you ask me."

Hermione grimaced.

Ron shifted in his seat, embarrassed.

Harry gave Ron an amused grin, who he knew was remembering Scabbers.

Harry turned a suspicious eye on the new teacher. "Have you talked with him much? What’s he like?"

"He seems nice enough, but I haven’t spoken to him for more than a moment."

Ron narrowed his eyes. "Which teacher would you think he's most likely to be friends with?"

Sara laughed. "That's easy. He and Severus get along famously. In fact, Morgio's quarters are in the dungeons."

Ron, Hermione and Harry groaned, already dreading the start of classes.

Hermione raised her voice in frustration. "I don't see why we can't get one decent Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!"

"They did," Ron added. "But he was a werewolf."

Harry leered at Morgio. "I wonder what sort of menace this one will turn out to be?"

Hermione lowered her voice again. "He'll be leaving at the end of the year, of course."

Ron grinned. "They'll have Lucius Malfoy teaching it next year."

Harry and Hermione laughed.

Sara sighed. "Who knows, he might be an interesting teacher."

Ron kept on grinning. “She’s got a point, you know. One of our best teachers was a convicted Death Eater, a murderer, and a prison escapee. Anything’s possible.�

"We'll see," Harry said, still studying the anxious wizard at the head table, his eyes full of distrust.


* * *

Sara sighed, leaning against the door to her rooms, still reeling from the hurricane that was their first kiss of the semester. "Harry, you're the devil." She opened her eyes to smile at him.

Harry grinned and felt the knot in his stomach untwist a little. "All of a sudden, I don't want to support your decision to wait."

Sara laughed. "Me either! Come on, Harry. Come sit with me."

Sara led him into the bedroom and headed toward the sofa before the fireplace, but Harry veered toward her bed and, holding tight to her hand, tried to drag her there. Laughing and unable to overpower him, she dropped to the floor like a dead weight.

Harry grinned as he looked down at her, shrugged his shoulders and collapsed on top of her, rolling off onto the floor in a fit of amusement. Sara rolled him onto his back, sat on him, and set to tickling until their laughter rang out so that they didn't hear the knocks at the door.

"I think I'm going to be sick!" Harry managed through frantic laughter as her fingers dug into his ribs.

"Then that makes two of us, Potter."

The laughter cut off like someone flipped a switch marked silence. Sara fell sideways onto the floor and Harry sat bolt upright as if an explosion had gone off in the next room.

"Oh, it's just you."

Snape sneered. "Who were you expecting, the Pope of Rome?"

Sara turned her head and choked back giggles.

Harry narrowed his eyes. “Is there something you needed, sir?�

"I wish I could say I'd come to toss you off the roof, but unfortunately, that's not the case. Tonight, anyway."

Sara kept giggling behind her hand.

Harry couldn't help but grin. Her laughter was infectious. He was still amused from being tickled and in a wonderful mood that even Snape couldn't muddy.

"I suggest you wipe that stupid grin off your face and get up off the floor."

“I’m quite comfortable, actually. Suggestion noted.�

Sara burst into a violent fit of laughter, making a desperate attempt to apologize to Snape through the midst of it.

"Ten points from Gryffindor."

This time, Sara grinned. "Ten points from Slytherin. You threatened to throw Harry off the roof."

Snape ignored her and kept his intent gaze fixed on Harry. "Get up. Now."

"Fine." Harry climbed to his feet.

Snape swatted Harry's head with a sharp slap! "I said shut-up, you miserable little maggot. I've about had it with-"

Harry was incensed by this sort of demeaning treatment in front of Sara and his temper mounted. A thin book flew off the shelf and smacked Snape in the head before toppling to the floor.

Snape shoved Harry. “Try something like that again and…�

Harry grinned around his anger. The book slapped Snape in the head again, though Harry hadn’t moved nor said a word.

Harry suddenly found himself yanked up by his shirt and traveling backward through the doors to the roof.

No longer laughing and on her feet, Sara threw out her hand and yelled something in Latin.

Harry landed on his back snug in a giant feather pillow, which had materialized out of nowhere. Jumping to his feet, Harry grabbed Sara around the waist and moved her aside as Snape came scowling through the doors after him.

Harry stood his ground, waiting.

Snape came to a stop in front of harry, smiled his secret delight, and slapped harry in the head. Not hard, but the sort of pay attention slaps the Gryffindors had grown accustomed to over the years.

Harry looked anything but accustomed. One of Sara’s terra cotta flowerpots flew off the half-wall and went straight for Snape’s head.

Snape dodged it just in time, tripped over a chaise lounge, and went sprawling. With a quick flick of his wand, two flowerpots went flying at Harry.

harry blasted them in midair, but the shards pelted him and left a few long scratches on his face and arms. Harry grinned. "Get up, Professor. Or are you too old and pathetic to handle Harry Potter?"

"Harry what's WRONG with you?!! Severus! Stop it, BOTH of you!"

Snape rolled onto his knees and stood. "I could best you on my worst day, Potter!"

"Let's see you try." Harry barely noticed Sara yelling at him, at them actually, and Snape didn't seem to hear at all.

Snape grabbed one of Sara's patio chairs and flung it hard at Harry's head. It was meant to distract him but, with a gesture, the chair spun in midair, reversed trajectory, and crashed hard into Snape. He threw up his hands and batted the chair aside, but not before receiving a few fresh wounds which had already begun to swell. A moment later, they were flinging flowerpots at the other’s head, landing most until supply could no longer meet demand. At this point, small tables, chaise lounges and folding chairs became projectiles.

A voice like thunder cracked the air. "STUPEFY!"

Harry and Snape fell flat and lay motionless on the cold stone roof of the tower. Dumbledore stepped off his flying carpet and summoned Sara. "Come, help me separate them."

Relieved, Sara pointed at Harry. "Wingardium Leviosa."

When they were far enough apart and minus their wands, Dumbledore held out his hands. "Enervate."



Harry slung an arm around Snape's shoulders. "All in good sport, sir. I guess we got a little carried away."

"Right," said Snape, smiling and letting a hand come to rest on Harry's shoulder. "I just meant to show Potter some defense procedures. Sorry to wake you, sir. My deepest apologies"

"Sara woke me. That was some show you two were putting on. I might expect an enormous lack of self-control from a teenager, but certainly not from a Hogwarts Professor, Severus. That doesn't mean I'm not equally disappointed in you, Harry. I'm surprised to see such ungentlemanly behavior from either of you, and in front of a young lady!"

"Sir," Harry volunteered, taking a step forward. "I'm sure neither one of us meant to scare Sara. At least I didn't."

"I certainly didn't intend to frighten her and, as you can see, we're both fine."

Sara came to stand beside her uncle, furious. "Fine? Have you bothered to look at yourselves? And justLOOK at my flowerpots! They’re RUINED!"

Harry and Snape looked upon the other and amidst the many broken flowerpots and overturned chairs. There was a moment of silence, and then the two of them shared a surreptitious grin. Dumbledore and Sara shared a confused glance.

"To the infirmary with both of you. Madam Pomfrey will examine your injuries, but I think you’ll be healing your cuts and bruises the old-fashioned way. Severus, I expect you in my office first thing in the morning. Harry, I'll see you after breakfast. You're to relate this little mishap to no one." He gave Harry a stern glance. "Now go, and if you decide to continue these... lessons in the halls, you'll find yourselves sprawled on the front walk."

Harry muttered an apology at the floor.

Snape just nodded his head and lowered his eyes.

* * *

It was quiet in the castle at dawn and Harry found he rather enjoyed roaming the halls while everyone slept. He wasn't exactly roaming, only going from Sara's tower to his own and it wasn't that far, but he liked it just the same. He no longer tried to be sneaky as he had last year, didn't even bother with his cloak. He took his time, like he had all the business in the world being up and about in his pajamas and barefoot.

Expecting to be greeted by the sound of four boys snoring, Harry was surprised at the silence that met him as the slid into the room. It was odd, he thought. If he couldn't see their sleeping forms behind the curtains, he'd have thought the place was deserted.

He’d crossed more than half the room when he noticed the lid of his trunk was open, his belongings scattered around it. Some of his books lay open, thrown to the floor in disregard. The new forest green jumper Ron's mum had knitted him was sticking out from under Seamus' bed as if it had been kicked in frustration. Clothes had been unfolded and shaken, then thrown to the side. His Pocket Sneak-o-scope, the one Ron had sent him from Egypt, lay smashed on the floor in afterthought. Fury rose in him at the sight of this. Incensed him, actually. A gift from a far-away and exotic place! A birthday gift!

A sense of dread settled over him, veering toward terrified anxiety. Harry’s breath caught uneasy in his throat and his stomach tightened as he slammed the lid of the trunk, and then nearly tore it off its hinges opening it back up.

The air rushed from his lungs and Harry collapsed with relief. The second chamber of his trunk, created in his Privet Drive bedroom, was undisturbed. Sara's birthday gift, wrapped in colorful paper, remained unharmed. Serpentines and confetti still drifted and curled around cakes with flickering candles. Even the bright, shiny bow was unrumpled. Harry removed the heavy box, placed it on the floor, and set to rummaging around in the bottom of his trunk. Again, he began to get nervous, but then his fingers brushed against velvet. He grasped the tiny box and pulled it out, opening it, needing to see with his own eyes that it was still there.

Snapping the velvet box shut and slipping it in his pocket, Harry went to Ron's bed, then Seamus’, Neville's, and Dean’s. Finally, he stood amid the room, feeling helpless and frightened, glancing from bed to bed until his eyes landed on the desk. He hurried over and composed a note with a shaky hand.

Professor Dumbledore,

I know it's early and you have a meeting with Snape this morning, but you need to come to my room right away. I think you should look at Ron, Seamus, Dean and Neville. They are alive, but are unnaturally quiet, and they won't wake up. Someone has rifled through my belongings, though nothing seems to be missing.

Harry

Hedwig, half-asleep and hooting in protest, sensed Harry's anxiety and flew off with the letter at once. Harry tried again to rouse his roommates. He went from bed to bed, shaking them, slapping their faces, yelling as loud as he dared, even trying to sit them up. It was no use. It was an obvious spell, but no matter how he channeled his will into his wand, enervate just wasn't working. Neither was finite. He was beyond worried. They should have snapped awake with either spell breaker. The looks on their faces, well, they were frightened.

An idea gripped Harry and he bolted out of the room, down the stairs, and across the common room where he stepped onto a large book and levitated himself up yet another flight of stairs and into the girls’ dormitory. For this he could be heavily punished, even expelled since they were all in bed, but he felt sure Dumbledore would understand his need.

Hermione was slow to open her eyes. She mumbled something about being tired, and so Harry shook her again. Understanding took hold of her. She was alert in an instant and throwing back the covers. Harry held out a robe and she followed him, without a word, back to the boys' dorms. She needn't ask questions. She knew by the look on his face that something was wrong with Ron. Whatever it was, it was important enough for Harry to come into a room full of girls at dawn and pull her from her bed. Fear touched the back of her throat and she pushed past Harry, who was practically running already.

The dark had lifted with the silver half-light of dawn, but Hermione flicked her wand at the candles anyway, filling the shadows with warm gold. She leaned over Ron in his bed, her wand beside the pillow, gripped by a nervous hand.

Harry set to shaking Neville again. Neville's brow was furrowed and his whimper was too soft to be heard. The misery on his face was unsettling. Harry looked to Hermione, desperate.


"How long have they been like this?"

"I've only been here about ten minutes."

"Enervate!"

"That won't work."

"Finite!"

"Neither will that."

"Let's both try."

Harry stepped to Ron's other side and directed his wand at his friend's chest.

Hermione did the same. "Ready?"

Harry nodded.

"Enervate!"

Nothing happened. Harry indicated they try again.

"Finite!" they said in unison and leaned back to see if it worked. Ron slept as he had before. A pained look was about him and Harry felt even more helpless.

Hermione was becoming a bit frazzled, racking her brain for even one shred of information that might wake the boys, some snippet of a lecture, a fact read in a book, or old folklore. Her countenance displayed her frustration, telling Harry she was coming up empty.

When she spoke, it was with an unsteady voice. "This is Dark Magic. Get Dumbledore."

Dumbledore appeared in the doorway. "No need Miss Granger. Dark Magic you say?"

Hermione sidestepped to the head of the bed to give the headmaster access to Ron's sleeping form. Snape fell in beside him.

"Harry and I tried to wake him together. Nothing works."

Dumbledore considered Ron as he slept. "I've never seen a spell like this. He appears to be having a terrible nightmare. Just look at the boy."

"I don't think it's a spell. I think it's a potion."

“So do I, Miss Granger.�

At the mention of a potion, Snape, who had been surveying the other beds, pushed Harry out of the way and leaned over Ron. "The other boys are having nightmares as well. Dark circles around the eyes. Pronounced pallor. Body temperatures are significantly lowered." He laid a hand on Ron's brow. "Weasley here is cold, too. You said both of you tried to wake him? Simultaneously?" He glanced at Hermione, who nodded, looking grave. "It's The Draught of Living Death, but the nightmares are troubling. Not normal at all."

Harry spoke before he could stop himself. "Isn't that illegal?" Of course, he knew the answer to the question.

Hermione tossed off a bit of knowledge, just out of habit. "People were being buried alive all the time."

"All Dark Magic is illegal, Potter. A future Auror should know these things."

Dumbledore sighed. "I’ll summon Madam Pomfrey."

Dumbledore’s eyes had turned serious and unreadable. The ever-present sparkle was gone. Harry had seen the look before and it could mean any number of things, none of them good. At the very least, Harry thought, the headmaster was worried.

Snape was irritated and raised his voice in the quiet room. “This is what happens when potions are brewed incorrectly! Too much wormwood and not enough asphodel. We can keep them alive by administering small doses of asphodel every few hours. Fortunately, there is an antidote, but it will take at least a day to brew."

Hermione gasped. "Tomorrow!"

Snape lowered his voice again. "If we're lucky. You see, as simple as a wormwood infusion is, its counter requires many ingredients, a few of which I do not have. I'll need to make a trip to Diagon Alley. Let’s hope they have everything on-hand."

Harry’s hope plummeted. "This won't wear off?"

"A standard draught would last two days. Wormwood poisoning is stronger and far more complicated. It could be tomorrow, maybe a week, maybe more. Also, we have to consider that, with the scale of the nightmares they seem to be experiencing, they could be mad by then, or irrevocably changed."

Harry and Hermione shared a nervous glance.

"In that case, you're excused from our meeting until this current situation has been handled, Severus. I will arrange for someone to teach your classes."

“I’ll leave at once, sir.� Snape bowed his head at the old wizard before turning on his heel.

"Harry," Dumbledore beckoned, taking a seat on Harry's bed. "I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Of course."

"Miss Granger?"

"Yes sir?"

Harry was dismayed when she addressed Dumbledore with her back to him, her voice choked and shaking with her attempts at control, her left hand was intent on straightening the curtains, and her right discretely wiped her eyes.

"Mr. Weasley is in good hands. No need to worry so, my dear. Believe me when I say Severus Snape is infinitely knowledgeable on potions and will take good care of your friends."

Hermione nodded and left the room on hurried feet. Harry's heart sank and he fought the urge to run after her. He turned and Dumbledore was waiting for him. Harry took a deep breath and withdrew the velvet box from his pocket.

* * *

The unpleasant, haggard new teacher smiled at the tall, impeccable boy whose platinum hair was warm silver in the torchlight. They stood together in the dungeons, having met in the hall. "Snape tells me you're an exceptional student."

Draco smiled. "I'm glad I've earned his good opinion."

"You know, I could use an assistant, just for a little...uh... experiment I have going."

Malfoy gave the older man his usual cold expression. "I'd be happy to help, Professor."

"You'd...uh...it would have to be in the strictest confidence."

Draco's eyes lit up at the thought of clandestine experiments and a little of the frost melted from his smile. "All things worth doing have to be kept in the strictest confidence, sir."

"What I need will be next to impossible to get. You could be expelled, depending on how you go about it."

Malfoy's smile widened. "I think something that risky puts me in a position to make one demand."

"I wouldn't peg you for a quick pay-off. You've too much integrity for that. You want me to owe you a favor."

"I like you, Morgio. You think like a Malfoy. My father would appreciate your insight."

"I met Lucius once. He is also a man of great integrity."

Draco coughed to cover an escaping laugh. "Yeah. Something like that. Now what do you need from me?"

"Oh yes, the matter at hand." Morgio wrung his long, bony fingers. "I need a vial of blood from Harry Potter."

"Why do you need that?"

"Why should it matter? I understand he's no friend of yours."

"It matters because I'm not doing it unless you tell me."

Morgio sighed. "Very well then. Come to my office."

* * *

"Very impressive, Harry." Dumbledore closed the box and handed it back, capturing Harry's hand and holding it, the box suspended between their palms. "The fact that you have such intensions pleases me more than you could know."

Harry smiled as his hand dropped to his side, shoving the box back into his pocket. "I just wanted to have it, I guess. I don't know when I'll give it to her."

"Does she know?"

"No."

"Does anyone?"

"Just the Dursleys. Ron doesn't even know."

"Good. And Harry, it would be best to wait, at least until you are done with classes."

"I doubt it would be the right time before then, anyway."

"Were you planning a long engagement? Or will the two of you be running off together do you think?"

Harry smiled. "At least a year or two. We're still young, sir."

"That you are. I heard Severus say you were planning to become an Auror. I'd forgotten you had such ambitions."

"I don't know," Harry sighed. "I'll be getting a job as soon as possible, but I still need to continue my training. The ministry offers Auror classes. I can do that and work, too."

"Harry Potter, of all wizards, should not be planning his future around the ministry's schedule of classes! You would make an excellent Auror, but is it really what you want?"

"You've said it yourself, sir. It's in my nature to go looking for trouble. I was thinking of dragging Ron along, too."

"I think the world has something else to offer Mr. Weasley. Ron is an extraordinary chess player. It shows he has clarity of thought and a good mind for strategy. I was planning to recommend him for the Wizard Defense League."

"I didn't know there was a Wizard Defense League!"

"Who do you think does all the minister’s planning?" Dumbledore grinned and Harry felt ignorant. "He's seen too much excitement by your side, been up close too many times. Ron could never be behind-the-scenes now, any more than Miss Granger could. I think it's a side effect of being a friend of yours."

"Ron is courageous." Harry regarded Ron, asleep in his bed, and thought; this is what it means to be my friend. "He could be anything."

"I agree. The level of commitment he has shown in being your friend has made him a stronger person and a better wizard then he likely would have been, had he never met you. Harry, the sacrifices we make reward us in their own time." Dumbledore raised his eyes, understanding the look of guilt on Harry's face. "After all, did living with your aunt and uncle teach you nothing?"

"It taught me that there are people in the world who will lie to me. Who will despise me for what I am with no regard for the person I am. I know how it feels to be unloved and alone. To not belong."

"Yet here you are. Kind, compassionate, humble. In possession all the best human qualities. You, Harry, who always does what is right, no matter what it costs you. You take nothing for granted. You're honest and full of integrity." Dumbledore sighed. "I struggled with my decision to place you with the Dursleys before I realized I had no decision to make. As hard as it was to put you outside the world to which you belong, depriving you of blood relations was hardly the right thing to do."

Harry was incredulous. "How did you know I wouldn't become angry, broken and degenerate?"

"I didn't. Evidently, we got lucky. Harry, no truly good thing is easy. Imagine if you'd grown up with our kind? People flocking around you, putting you on a pedestal every day of your life. Had you lived that life, we'd have two Draco Malfoys at Hogwarts."

Harry lowered his eyes, knowing the headmaster was right. He'd hated living with the Dursleys, but he hated fame even more. Harry cracked a smile. "Two Malfoys? Sara would pull her hair out."

"She certainly does not have a high opinion of Mr. Malfoy."

"She loathes him. She literally spit in his face, yet he persists."

"Did you buy the ring to spite him?" The twinkle was back in the old wizard's eyes.

"No. It's just an added bonus that I rather like."

"Do you think this might be an attempt to sabotage your plans?"

"Like I said, my best friend doesn't even know. How could it be?"

"You think they were after something else."

"I'm not sure. It's a birthday gift for Sara. I really don't know much about it." Harry gathered up the package without being asked and removed the wrapping with his wand so it could be rewrapped later. He set the globe on his night table. "It was really expensive. I guess anyone who was able to turn up here is a wizard and a wizard would have little use for this." He indicated his pocket.

Dumbledore looked up from the crystal ball with serious eyes. "Whatever you paid, it was a bargain if this is what I think it is. Of course, I couldn't know for sure until it's been examined. These markings, they aren't familiar, but then I never was an expert on such things."

"What do you think it is?"

"A very powerful object. Meant for one person and one person alone. I wonder how it happened to find its way to her through you?"

"I saw it in Diagon Alley. We were shopping for dress robes."

"Sara brought you there?"

"Yes, but I think she was drawn more to the window displays. She never even glanced at this. It jumped out at me and I knew it was perfect for her. It was too expensive, so I left without it."

"But you went back because it would not leave your mind?"

"Yeah, something like that."

At that point, Hermione rushed into the room and came to an abrupt halt. "I'm so sorry, Professor! I thought you'd gone. I was just coming to check on Ron. See if he'd been moved yet. Is that what I think it is?" Hermione did not wait to be invited over. "I can't believe it." She ran a finger over the largest of the symbols, the one Harry had thought looked familiar.

"Can you read it, my dear? Romanian, I do believe."

"I recognize this one. It's on the cover of Sara's spell book. She told us it was the old Gypsy symbol for Elemental. Look here. Four smaller shapes bound together to make one. Earth, wind, fire, water. This is the Orb of Arassel."

"Your cleverness and knowledge never cease to surprise me, Miss Granger."

"I've been doing research on Elementals all summer, trying to find a way to help Sara. I found only one mention of the orb in a very old and obscure book called Diviners and Their Devices. I found it in Ron's house of all places. They didn't even know they had it!" She rolled her eyes as if to say how ridiculous! "It said that this has been lost for centuries and was believed to have been destroyed. It was last seen in the sixteen hundreds, in the possession of a gypsy named Lanva who had the powers. She and the orb disappeared and were never seen again."

"Ron's family didn't remember owning this book?"


"No."

"That also is interesting." Dumbledore stroked his beard in consideration.

"Perhaps the orb wanted to be found?" Harry ventured. "And someone wanted to make sure we found out what it was?"

"Possible. Very possible. However, someone knows you have it. I'll have to take this for a time, Harry. It will be safe with me."

"But Sara's birthday is in two days!"

"I want to run some tests on it before it goes to Sara. You shall have it back in time, I expect. I sense no menace from it, but better safe than sorry." Dumbledore placed the Orb of Arassel back in its box and tucked it under his arm as he stood. "Harry, this belongs to her already. I have no right to keep it from her."

Harry nodded, terrified that, come Saturday, he would have no gift for Sara.

"Miss Granger?"

"Yes Professor?"

"Would you be willing to continue your research?"

"Of course!" Hermione's face lit up like a Hogwarts Christmas tree.

"I will arrange for you to have full access to the restricted section and you will be excused from classes today."

"I'll send an owl if I find anything, sir."

"Good. We all have something to do, then."

"What about me?" Harry asked, feeling useless.

"Oh yes, Harry. I forgot about you. You have a class to teach."

"What? ME?"

"They're underclassmen, Harry. The rest of the staff is occupied, so who else am I to ask? You happen to be standing in front of me at the moment of need. You’re capable of doing the job for one day, so to you it shall fall. You'll find Severus' lesson books in his office."

Harry was too astonished to argue as Dumbledore turned his back to the room and left with Hermione in tow. How could he, Harry Potter, possibly teach a class?

Taking out his wand, he returned everything to his trunk and tried several spells on the Sneak-o-scope, which was beyond repair, finally dusting the pieces into a box. Scowling, he dumped it in the trash.


Did he have to wear his school robes? Sara only had to wear hers if she was attending one of her classes. As an apprentice, she could dress as she liked. Deciding it probably didn't matter, he found a pair of black slacks from Harvey Nichols, Italian shoes of fine, soft leather, a white oxford, one of his new ties, and an expensive, green, v-neck jumper Sara loved for him to wear. He thought it made him look like he went shopping with Draco Malfoy. She said it made him look sharp, not to mention oozing class and impeccable taste. Then of course, there was handsome and his favorite, dangerously green-eyed.

For his birthday this year, Hermione had sent him a silver comb charmed to neaten his hair. It was a charm she had devised just for him, and it was inscribed along the spine.

Sleek and shine, to look divine,

thy teeth will turn to tufts so fine.

Unruly locks, such fuss and bother,

depart the hair of Harry Potter.


He used it now, his hair silkening and falling into place. Glancing in the mirror at the beds behind him, Harry wished he could wake Ron and tell him he was teaching a class. Ron would want to know. Hell, he'd be even more excited than Harry himself was. Ron would also want to know that he'd gotten into a silly flowerpot-tossing fight with Snape on the roof and that it had been broken up by the headmaster himself. Now that was news.

Turning away from the reflected image of himself with a long cut along his forehead, no doubt from a flowerpot, Harry crossed the room and sat next to Ron's sleeping form. "Hey Ron." He studied his friend's face for any sign of recognition. "I'm going to teach Snape's classes today. He's gone off to get some ingredients for your antidote. You'll be just fine."

"He will, dear." Madam Pomfrey moved stretchers into the room with her wand, "But he can't hear a thing you're saying."

"I know." Harry sighed and got up. "I guess it didn't matter."

"Sometimes it doesn't, Harry."

Harry thought it best to get out of her way, so he laid a warm hand across Ron's cold forehead and tried to smile. "Hang in there," he said and left, grabbing a handsome emerald green robe from the foot of his bed and calling to Hedwig, who perched on his shoulder.

As he emerged from the portrait hole, he was taken off-guard by Professor McGonagall, rushing toward him, her face piqued with worry. All at once, she stopped as if she had forgotten where it was she was going. The smile that warmed her sharp features was full of affection. "Look at you, Potter. You're all grown up! I can't believe I hadn't noticed it yesterday. Last spring you left a child and now you've changed in just a few weeks. I must say, you do clean up well."

Harry was blushing all the way to his toes. "Th-Thank you, Professor."

"Has there been any change with the boys?"

"Madam Pomfrey is moving them to the hospital wing now."

"I should go and help her. Harry, you will make a fine teacher today. And a well dressed one at that! That color suits you."

Harry lost all confidence and he looked to her with nervous eyes.

She patted his shoulder, the one that wasn't taken up by Hedwig. "If you need any help, send your owl."

"Thank you, Professor."

She gave him one last, encouraging smile before disappearing behind the portrait.

Harry took a deep breath and made for the dungeons.

* * *

Hermione kept her eyes on what she was doing so she wouldn't have to lie to the faces of her fellow Gryffindors, who peppered her with questions about the five boys who were so obviously missing from the table.

"It's some sort of sleeping potion. I don't know what they intended it to be, but it's landed them all in the infirmary." She piled buttered toast with raspberry preserves into a large linen napkin. "They'll be fine, of course, but Snape had to go to Diagon Alley to get something to reverse it, so Harry's teaching his class."

"HARRY POTTER?? Is teaching Snape's Potions class??" asked a wide-eyed Lavender Brown, who Hermione noticed was wearing too much make-up and had the top two buttons of her blouse undone, the crimson and gold striped tie loosened. Her robe wasn't fastened and flared out to either side, hanging loose on her shoulders as she reclined against the back of her chair. Next to her sat Parvati Patil, who was dressed similarly, but with even more horrible make-up. The cloud of perfume around them was enough to choke a Flobberworm.

Hermione had the full attention of about twenty of her housemates and more heads turned as the news made its way down the table, a ripple from a skipped stone.

"Harry just happened to be standing there when the need arose. All he has to do is teach a bunch of second and third years how to make a few simple potions."

"Snape is gonna have a bloody cow!" laughed Liam Seever, who was a chaser on Harry's team and a sixth year.

"I know," Hermione grinned, folding the napkin around her breakfast and lifting a big glass of spiced pumpkin juice. Good Luck, Harry, she thought and made her way back toward the library.

"I've got to see this!" Lavender grinned the moment Hermione turned away and two chairs scrape the floor.

Hermione smiled to herself. Harry, she thought, the Hoochie Patrol is on its way.


The library was a ghost town. Literally. Nearly Headless Nick sat at a far table, leaning over a book, his head now and then tipping off. The Grey Lady of Ravenclaw sat across the table, perusing a large tome. They were the only souls present with the exception of Madam Pince, who was before her in an instant, holding out a skeleton key on a long chain.

"You're to wear this at all times. On the outside only when you're in the library. At night, you're to lock it in this box." She produced a small gold cube from the folds of her robes, along with the words to open and lock the box on a small scrap of paper.

Hermione tucked them into her bag and slipped the chain around her neck. "Thank you."

"You should be proud, young lady. The headmaster must have implicit trust in you. Full access to the restricted section is a rare privilege and hasn't been extended to any student in more than fifty years. Mark my words; there is knowledge in those books that is pure poison to the mind. Take care with what you read, Miss Granger. I mean that."

Hermione smiled. "Of course." She had no intensions of studying up on evil curses.

The old Librarian gave her a mixed smile before retreating to her office.

Hermione found the most isolated table to drop her bag on. With her notebook open and a quill at the ready, Hermione pulled out Diviners and Their Devices, laying it aside. Her bag she moved to the floor, propped against a table leg, but still within easy reach. Her eyes moved from the locked area across the room to the key around her neck; a beautiful, sculpted copy cut in bright yellow gold. Light played in its brilliance as it lay on her open palm. The thing she had most coveted since she'd first walked through the doors as an eleven-year-old girl. Knowledge. Unlimited access to it.

* * *