“Run Draco…" Professor Snape's voice echoed in his ears as Draco ran as fast as he could. He only had to make it as far as the school's gates to Disapparate.

"Crucio."

Potter's screams barely registered in Draco's brain as he continued to run. Flashes of light were barely noticeable behind him. He faintly heard Professor Snape's reply, guttural and almost animal in its ferocity, but Draco couldn't make out the actual words. Finally he was through the gates that separated Hogwarts from the open country.

"Disapparate Malfoy Manor." Draco felt the familiar tugging at his middle, as Hogwarts and its surroundings swirled around him sickeningly fast. In a moments time he was standing outside of Malfoy Manor. He stood in the spot where Professor Snape had insisted he wait for him. He shivered in the night air, feeling colder than he could ever remember feeling.

"I've failed," thought Draco, as he sank to the ground. He sat on the side of the road, trying to control his emotions.

How could he have let Dumbledore get to him? Dumbledore saying that he knew all along it was Draco trying to kill him. Calling the attempts Draco had made on his life feeble. Draco's mind raced back. The cursed necklace . . . the poisoned wine . . . Snape had practically laughed in his face at how stupid he was being.

"Professor Snape has been keeping watch over you on my orders."

Dumbledore too had seen how badly he had messed up. He sat staring at the road, wondering how Professor Snape could save any of them after this. He had Dumbledore disarmed! He was alone on the tower with him. All he had to do . . . Draco only had to say the words and he would have saved them all. Maybe his father had been right all along. Maybe he was too stupid or spoiled or weak. Draco sat back and looked at the sky, which was too cloudy to let any stars shine through. He thought of his mother. She had assured him that Professor Snape would protect them all.

"Severus… Please." the pleading in Dumbledore's weakened voice rang through Draco's mind. It had sounded so pathetic. Had Dumbledore been telling the truth? Which side was Snape on?

He heard the pop echo through the dense night air as Professor Snape Apparated. Draco stood quickly and cleared his mind as best he could. The only hope he and his family had right now was standing in front of him. Whatever else Professor Snape was, he was a survivor. He had managed to do the Dark Lord's bidding for years, and remain relatively unscathed.

"Draco," Professor Snape said, "Listen carefully. The Dark Lord expects you to have failed. He set you up for failure. If I had reached the tower first, before those cretins . . . " Snape's voice faltered as he struggled to think of his next move.

He looked deeply into Draco's eyes. Draco, for his part, met Professor Snape's gaze evenly. He shut his mind to the past few hours' events. Professor Snape broke his concentration and stepped away from the boy.

"That's not going to work with the Dark Lord, Draco." Professor Snape said quietly. "He needs to see something. If you cut off everything, he'll kill you."

Draco looked at the ground. He knew that Professor Snape was right; He closed his eyes and concentrated. He filtered out the doubts that Dumbledore had planted in his mind about Professor Snape and the Dark Lord. He threw away all memories of Dumbledore's offer to protect him and his family, leaving only faint hints of Dumbledore's pleadings. He concentrated as deeply as he could on the moment he stood in front of Dumbledore, trying to conjure up the mixture of fear of killing, and deep respect he had always held for his Headmaster. He was practically shaking, just as he had on the tower. When he felt he had reinvented the necessary moments to perfection, so that what he felt and remembered would gel with those of the Death Eaters who had witnessed him with Dumbledore, he looked up at Professor Snape.

Professor Snape stepped back in front of the boy and again stared deeply into his eyes. The mixture fear and respect flooded Professor Snape's mind, as did Dumbledore's pleading. Clever boy, Professor Snape thought, as he alone knew this could not have been the way these moments played out. He knew Dumbledore too well. Professor Snape withdrew his gaze, and ran the memories through his mind, trying to determine if this was good enough to keep the Dark Lord from killing Draco.

"How much did the others see of your conversation with Dumbledore?" Professor Snape asked finally, knowing they would all be too willing to throw Draco away for even a hint of advantage with the Dark Lord.

"None of it." Draco answered, confidently, beginning to feel more like himself. He could tell by Professor Snape's demeanor that he was probably going to survive.

Draco followed Professor Snape through the heavy gates of Malfoy Manor. It was a strange feeling, being home. Normally, this was his favorite place in the whole world. The opulence of the house and grounds fed his ego, and his mother's deep, unconditional love and faith in him made him feel well-grounded. But now, with the most powerful wizard of all time in attendance, it felt oppressive. He swallowed hard and went through the front door, keeping his mind and emotions as steady as possible. They entered the parlor and found only the Dark Lord, Aunt Bellatrix, his mother, and shockingly, his father. Lucius didn't register any emotion as his son entered. Draco felt his mother's worried eyes burrowing through him, but he didn't trust himself to look at her. He stared straight ahead, surprised at how even his emotions were.

"So, Severus," Voldemort began, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "I take it by your presence here tonight that young Mr. Malfoy has finished his task."

"The task has been managed, My Lord." Snape replied evenly. "Dumbledore is indeed dead.�

"Subtle difference in your answer from my question," Voldemort observed. "How was your task completed Draco?"

"I managed to trap him on the Astronomy Tower, and disarm him, My Lord." Draco answered.

"But your task, boy, was to kill him, was it not?" Voldemort's voice rose with each word. "Tell me Draco, were you Death Eater enough to kill him?"

"He was unable to perform that portion of the task, Master," Professor Snape interrupted. "I took it upon myself to have that pleasure."

The Dark Lord's eyes flashed horribly at Professor Snape. "Crucio," he intoned, snapping his wand at the man. Professor Snape collapsed on the floor writhing in pain.

Voldemort turned his attention to Draco. "Come here, boy," he said, his voice steely with controlled anger.

Draco did as he was told and stood in front of Voldemort. He could feel the wizard's mind delving into his. He stood motionless, controlling his thoughts and emotions with surprising ease. Finally, Voldemort broke contact. He stood looking at Draco. No one in the room breathed as they watched the exchange.

"At your age, boy," he began quietly, "killing was already second nature to me. But, not many are as advanced as I was. You have been relatively useful. I'll let it pass this time, but only this time."

The next few days passed in quick succession for Draco. He tried to spend as much time in his room as possible. This was not as often as he would like. The Dark Lord liked the attention of his followers, especially the followers named Malfoy. He seemed to take a great pleasure in belittling Draco and his parents at every opportunity, much to the delight of the others.

Draco sat slumped in his chair, staring vacantly into space, trying not to notice the revolving figure suspended over his head. He looked serendipitously up at it from time to time, recognizing Charity Burbage, the Muggle Studies teacher from Hogwarts. Muggle Studies had always been quite a joke in Slytherin House, as was the squat little woman who taught it. He knew this could not be good, and was dreading what had to be ahead. Draco looked over and saw his mother give him a guarded smile, which he carefully returned. He snuck a quick look at his father, trying to read his emotions from a distance of four feet. Lucius returned the boy's look, but the emotions he sensed were troubling to Draco. On the one hand, he could feel his relief in being freed from the mental tortures of Azkaban. On the other hand, he sensed his trepidation about the Dark Lord's obvious drop from lucidity, something, frankly Voldemort shared with Aunt Bellatrix.

---

Author's notes:

Thanks to NikkiSue for her great betaing, and cmwinters for her attempted rescue.

Selected parts of Snape's & Dumbledore's dialogue taken from pages 604, 588 and 595 of the US first edition hardcover of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, by JK. Rowling.

Andromeda Tonks kept pacing between her grandson’s crib and the window. Nymphadora and Remus should have been home ages ago. She couldn’t help but think about when she received the news that Ted would never be coming home again. It felt like there was a clamp around her heart as she waited and waited some more.

Finally there was someone walking towards her front door, but it wasn’t Nymphadora. It wasn’t even Remus. It was Molly Weasley. The look on her face had Andromeda racing towards the door. She threw the door open before her visitor could knock.

“What has happened? Where is my daughter? She should have been home ages ago! Where is she?� Andy said almost hysterically.

Molly caught her, and looked her in the eyes. “I’m sorry Andromeda, but Tonks and Remus both were killed during the battle.�

Andy dropped to her knees in the doorway. Tears were flowing down her face. How was she supposed to go on without her son-in-law, daughter, and husband? Ted and Dora had been the center of her life since she had gone against her family’s wishes and became Andromeda Tonks.

Despair was filling her when she was finally brought back to the present by a loud cry.

“Teddy! Grandma’s coming, baby.� Andy race up the stairs and pulled the young boy from his crib.

That was when it hit her… she couldn’t let the loss of her other family members overwhelm her. This precious little boy needed her, and now she was the only one left to care for him. This little boy was now an orphan, and needed someone to teach him who his parents and grandfather were. All three had loved him in the time they had with him, and time had robbed him and her of their presence all too soon. Voldemort and his Death Eaters had robbed too many families of loved ones, but for Teddy, Andromeda willed herself to go on. He was too important and loved too much to be left alone.

Teddy stopped crying as soon as his Grandma picked him up. He seemed to be staring up at Andy with trust and love. There was no way he could know or understand what had happened to those who should have been there to raise him. Andy mourned for what he could never have, but she realized she would do what she had to do in order for him to grow up loved and happy.

Molly came into the room to make sure how Andy was doing. When she saw the baby wrapped in his grandmother’s arms, she knew that they would both be ok. She exited the room and headed to the kitchen. Andy would have questions, and Molly would do her best to answer them.



A short while later, Andy entered the kitchen carrying Teddy and found Molly brewing some tea and pulling some biscuits out of the oven.

“You didn’t need to go to such trouble! How did you even find everything?� Andy asked.

“Oh, most kitchens have what is needed; all you have to do is look!� Molly poured two cups of tea and sat down at the table.

Andy prepared a bottle for Teddy and then joined her. Both of the women watched the infant peacefully eating for a few moments before Andy looked up and met Molly’s eyes. Pain that mirrored her own came back at her.

“So…, what happened? I guess the battle took place as planned. I would also guess that He Who Must Not Be Named was defeated, or you would have told me to go into hiding the moment you arrived,� Andromeda calmly stated.

“Voldemort is truly gone for good. Somehow his Killing Curse rebounded again, but this time we all saw it happen. Harry is fine, though we had all thought he was dead for a time. He had tricked us in order to trick Voldemort, and Narcissa ended up helping him with his deception. It seems your youngest sister ended up deciding family was more important then the Death Eaters and helped Harry because he could confirm that Draco was alive and well.� Molly took some time to eat a biscuit and drink some tea.

“At least some of this nightmare is over then. I supposed the killings will stop and the Ministry will be returned to people on our side.� Andy paused until Molly nodded. “But what I really need to know is what happened to Nymphadora and Remus. Please!�

Molly stared into her tea for a time before answering. “No one I’ve talked to knows for sure, but George says he saw Bellatrix chasing Tonks firing Killing Curses and yelling something about ruining the family by marrying a werewolf. He was distracted by a giant, and by the time he turned to help, Tonks was no longer in sight,� Molly paused. “Percy says he say Remus howling in grief and running across a clearing. That was the last anyone I know saw them.�

Andy moved Teddy to her shoulder to burp him. She seemed to be hugging him close as she did it.

“What happened to Bella?� Andy looked up with some anger flashing in her eyes.

“I was the one that finally stopped her. Bellatrix was targeting some kids, including my Ginny. I was not losing another child, so I stepped in front of them and made sure she was stopped.� Molly met Andromeda’s eyes with some anger of her own. “She won’t be hurting anyone else from now on.�

“Bella is gone?� Andromeda asked. She continued on after Molly’s nod, “I always hoped that someone in my family would forgive me. As time passed, I learned that they never would. It never occurred to me that Bella would target Dora for marrying a werewolf. By that time, I thought they had forgotten all about us, but that was foolish. She was just bidding her time.�

It took a few minutes for the rest of Molly’s statement to register with Andromeda, but when it did there was new shock on her face. “Another child? Who else was killed during the battle? I should have known I wasn’t the only one to lose a loved one. I’m sorry Molly!�

Molly took a deep and calming breath before answering, with tears flowing down her face. “My Fred was killed…� She had to take a few deep breaths before continuing. “Lots of other students were also killed. Minerva let any that were of age stay to fight, if they wanted to. It was their school to protect, and once they were of age we had no right to tell them to go.

Word had gotten out about the battle and more people then I would have guessed showed up to protect Hogwarts and try to defeat Voldemort. It will be a long time before the scars of the battle are wiped from the school, or the hearts of those who lost loved ones. Kingsley Shacklebolt is acting as Minister of Magic. Minerva is heading the clean up of the school.�

It was a while before either woman talked. Teddy was cooing and gurgling in Andromeda’s arms.

“Harry will be stopping by to check on you. He was named Teddy’s godfather and he intends to keep his word. You won’t be alone in raising that boy. I hope you know that you can call on me if you need anything. The Burrow is always open to you.� Molly had tear streaked cheeks, but compassion in her voice.

“Thank you Molly. I will take you up on that offer. Teddy will need more then what I alone can give him. I’m glad that Harry will also be around to help. I know that Remus was always sad that he couldn’t give Harry more.� Andromeda got up and gave Molly a one handed hug. “It will be nice being part of a family that chose us, instead of being alone.�

Molly pulled Teddy and Andromeda into a tighter hug. Both knew that things would all work out somehow. It would just take time for healing.

I heard a terrible, piercing scream of pain – was it Harry? I was suffocating, I couldn’t breathe, Harry’s arms were still wrapped tightly around me, but there was something different about them, something wrong…

CRACK.

The interior of the tent spun into view as we Apparated. I felt Harry slump against me and, for a moment, one blissful moment, thought he must have been caught off balance upon Apparating.

But when he let out a long, low groan, I knew that something was drastically wrong.

“H-Harry?� I whispered, and my voice was cracked with fear. I was now holding him up in my arms, his head lolling backwards, legs limp. Slowly, I laid him down on the floor.

“Harry! Wake up!� I gently patted the sides of his cheeks, too scared to slap them properly. He was still groaning, and his eyelids were twitching in the way that I have always noticed they do when he has a nightmare, or a vision from Voldemort.

Had he been hit by a spell as we jumped out of the window? Was it the Blasting Curse I cast as we were leaving?

“Harry, please, open your eyes!� I said, shaking his shoulders.

“Nooo… don’t kill the little boy… just a little… nooo…� He let out another long groan. His bunk was a few feet away.

Trembling like a leaf, I desperately tried to lift him, placing his arm around my neck like some bizarre scarf, and my free hand underneath his other armpit. But it was no use – his body was heavy, like he was in a deep sleep, and I couldn’t lift him.

Panting from the effort of lifting him, I laid him back on the floor.

“Dad…� I froze. What was Harry seeing? His face was going clammy with sweat.

He was seriously ill, and I didn’t know what to do!

Hermione Granger – the girl with all the answers; the girl with her hand up for every question, the girl who knows every set book off-by-heart, the girl who’s greatest fear in life is failing her exams.

And she didn’t even know what was wrong with her best friend, or even how to help him.

No textbook prepared me for this!

“Mum…� I was jerked out of my panicked thoughts as Harry let out more moans. I touched his forehead – he was extremely hot, but I could see him shivering.

I raced over to his bunk, and ripped off the blankets, dropping them on the floor. I then ran back over to Harry, my wand gripped tightly in my sweaty palm. With a shaky wave, I non-verbally cast a Hover Charm, and Harry rose a few feet into the air.

Mortally terrified of dropping him, I guided him over to the bed, and he lazily floated, still mumbling, his face twitching, through the air, until he landed on the mattress with a soft flump.

“No, Dad… don’t leave your wand… pick up your wand, please…� I bit my lip, and my eyes went watery at Harry’s mutter. His voice sounded higher, afraid… childish.

He was extremely feverish by then. With difficulty, I pulled of his t-shirt.

To my horror, the Horcrux seemed to be stuck to his chest – almost burnt in – and there was a nasty wound on his forearm. It looked like a snake bite, and he was bleeding from it – not badly, but to me, it looked like an awful lot of blood.

I quickly fetched my bag from the living area of the tent, and hastily pulled out the Essence of Dittany. I was about to pour a few drops on the wound when I paused, my hand on the stopper. Should I clean the wound first?

I did so with a sponge and a bowl of hot water. All the while, Harry continued to mumble heart-breaking things, only confirming my suspicions as to what he was seeing.

“Please… not my Dad… don’t kill my Dad…� I began to cry as I tried to prise the locket off his chest, but it refused to come off – it was like someone had glued it to his skin.

Fruitlessly, I tried ever spell I could possibly think of for about ten minutes before, tears cascading down my cheeks, I resigned myself to a severing charm.

I didn’t know whether to do it quickly, so that it was over quicker, or slowly, so that it might have the same effect as ripping a plaster or band aid off – it wouldn’t hurt as much.

Harry didn’t seem to feel the pain though, which was, I suppose, a good thing.

“No, Dad… wake up, wake up… don’t leave me… orphan… alone… don’t go…� he mumbled. I suddenly realised that his fever was worse than ever, and I hurriedly pulled his t-shirt back over his head, clumsily trying to feed his limp arms through the sleeves.

“Run, Mum…� he cried, and, to my alarm, I saw salty droplets of water seeping out from underneath his eyelids.

I’d never seen Harry cry before, although he’d seen me cry loads of times. I think he may have been crying at Godrics Hollow, in the graveyard, but I couldn’t be sure as his face was in shadow, and he didn’t make a sound, just stood there… staring. He always seemed like one of those strong people, and seeing him cry felt like all my hope being crushed out of me, like there was no escape… not even Harry was strong anymore…

Noting how sweaty he was getting, yet how violently he was shivering, I took the blankets off Ron’s old bed and tossed them over Harry, hoping to sweat out the fever.

That’s what you do with a fever, isn’t it? Or is that a temperature? Aren’t they the same thing? No, with a temperature you feel hot too, don’t you? I let out a growl of frustration and ignored my fussing brain, always worrying about what was correct…

Wearily, I ran a hand through my hair, my fingers getting caught in small knots towards the ends. The Horcrux dangled innocently in my fingers, but I felt rather sickened at the thought of putting it on. I put it in my bag, trying to ignore Harry’s whimpers.

“Please Mum, block the door, don’t let him come… why don’t… where’s… your wand, why don’t you have it? Nooo…� I close my eyes and take several deep breaths, imagining we’re back at Hogwarts… no, the Burrow… yes, the Burrow was good… and everything was fine and perfect in the world… before fourth year, before Voldemort came back…

Harry moans once again, and I slowly open my eyes, tears steadily creeping down my cheeks.

“How could you leave your wands…?� Harry mutters, his hair clinging to his sweaty face.

Where was Harry’s wand? I walked back to where we had Apparated, and saw it lying there.

In two pieces.

I bit my lip and grimaced. I knew that Harry would be distraught when he woke up. I realised, with crushing guilt, that it must have been me that broke it, when I cast the Blasting Curse.

I headed back to the bed with it, and knelt down beside his head, the wand – held together by a single strand of fragile phoenix feather, resting beside my knee.

I took the sponge I used to clean the snake bite, and siphoned the blood off with my wand.

I sat there for hours, sponging his face, pleading with him to wake up. More than anything, I wished that Ron was there to help me, or maybe just to be there and be the usual klutz that he was.

I did, I admit, hate him for leaving us. How could he just… go? Just leave us? Leave me? Didn’t he…?

I bit hard down on my lower lip and closed my eyes, feeling tears seep out from beneath my lids and trickle down my cheeks. I felt so tired and afraid and alone.

All the while Harry kept on shouting and moaning, and I couldn’t stand seeing him go through it, I couldn’t watch him go through the pain, why wouldn’t he stop? I felt like I was intruding on something private, something indecent. When would it end…?

As I sat there, calling his name, trying to wake him from his fitful… sleep? (Oh, I didn’t know what was happening to him!) I wondered when the war would end, and how, and whether all my friends would make it out alive.

The sun was slowly starting to set as guests began to enter the soft silken marquee set up in the backyard of the Burrow. Dozens of yellow and white roses were placed around the area, creating a stunning atmosphere of happiness.

A tall redheaded wizard in handsome black dress robes stood at the front of the tent upon a slightly raised platform. Next to Ron stood Harry Potter, his best man. Both had identical white roses in the pocket of their robes. Beside Harry was Ron’s brother George who had taken his flower and put it into the hole where his ear should have been.

After all the guests had entered the marquee, a short, plump wizard came and stood on Ron’s right side. With one small wave of his wand, soft music began playing. The wedding was starting.

Luna Lovegood was the first to walk down the aisle. She looked stunning in her pale yellow dress, though she did have a rather large ring of roses in her hair. Ron’s sister Ginny came next. Harry let out an involuntary sigh as he saw his future wife looking more beautiful than ever in her dress, his mind could not help but wander to the day when his and Ron’s places would be reversed.

Then Ron’s niece came walking through throwing large handfuls of roses excitedly as she went, her light blonde hair flowing behind her. At last came the bride and her father.

Her dress was strapless and fit her figure perfectly; though white, it faded into a pale golden yellow at the bottom and trailed behind her. Her hair came down in soft curls framing her flawless face as she smiled at her fiancé.

As Hermione approached Ron, he couldn’t help whispering, “Bloody hell!� She had never looked more amazing, and she was going to be his. When they reached the platform, Mr. Granger kissed his daughter on the cheek before placing her hand in Ron’s.

“Take care of my little girl, and always love her unconditionally,� he said to Ron as he let go of Hermione’s hand.

“I will, Mr. Granger, always.� Mr. Granger walked over to his wife who was sitting in the front row beside Ron’s own mother. Their faces were identical, both smiling and tear-stained as they watched their children.

Ron turned to Hermione and lifted her veil. Her make-up was minimal and only added to her natural beauty. Her deep brown eyes were welling with tears as she stared into Ron’s own blue ones.

“I love you, Ron,� she whispered. He replied with a nod, unable to speak as they turned to the officiating wizard.

“Ladies and gentlemen, witches and wizards. We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of these two faithful, loving souls. The bride and groom have decided to use a mixture of traditional Muggle and Wizarding vows,� he pronounced, and then turned to Ron.

“Ronald Bilius Weasley, do you take Hermione Jean Granger to be your beloved wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, as long as you both shall live?�

“I, Ronald Bilius, take you, Hermione Jean, to be my beloved wife. I promise to honor and cherish you, to be at your side in sorrow and in joy, in good times and in the bad, and to love you unconditionally always as long as we both shall live,� Ron replied, a small nervous grin crossing his face.

“And do you, Hermione Jean Granger, take Ronald Bilius Weasley to be your beloved husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, as long as you both shall live?� the small man repeated. Hermione looked into Ron’s eyes and he mouthed the words ‘I love you’ so that only she could see.

“I, Hermione Jean, take you, Ronald Bilius, to be my beloved husband. I promise to honor, cherish, and love you with all my heart, always and unconditionally through the good times and the bad, through sorrow and joy as long as we both shall live,� Hermione recited, shiny tears breaking free from chocolate pools of her eyes.

“Then I declare you bonded for life. You may kiss the bride.�

Ron leaned in and cupped Hermione’s face in his hands and they kissed passionately for a few moments. All was theirs, nothing else in the world mattered at that moment, but their love for each other. After their years of bickering, denying, and fighting their love, they were finally husband and wife. Forever and eternally bonded to each other.

Stars fell magically upon them as the crowd of guests broke into applause, bringing them out of their blissful trance. Charlie, Bill, and George all let out loud whoops of congratulations, while Percy stood beside his mother clapping proudly. Harry and Ginny beamed at them, both glad that their best friends had finally made it to the altar.

Just as the officiating wizard at Bill and Fleur’s wedding had done, the wizard next to Ron and Hermione cleared the chairs and created a dance floor and seating area. The newly wed couple walked hand-in-hand to the middle of the floor as music began to play. Hermione laughed. She had worried that the musicians wouldn’t get it right, as it was a Muggle song, and an old one. Her mother had suggested it and Hermione thought it was the perfect choice; Embraceable You was the same song she and Mr. Granger had used for their first dance.

Ron and Hermione danced alone, all eyes on them, and their eyes only on each other. As they danced, the marquee and the guests and everything else seemed to disappear; for them there was nothing in the world but the two of them. As the song ended, everything else returned into view, and many more couples joined them on the dance floor.

“Ron, I love you,� Hermione stated happily as she looked at her husband.

“Always?� he asked as he stared into her loving eyes.

“Always and more than you will ever know,� she replied as he leaned down and kissed her lips softly.

“I love you too, Mrs. Weasley.�

7th January 1998

Hello, my name is Neville Longbottom.

Hello?

Are you an enchanted diary?

I’m going to assume you are a normal, non-magical diary, then. I guess the Room must know that I’m here alone, and that I would want someone to talk to, even if it’s only myself. Luna Lovegood is gone; she didn’t return after Christmas, and Ginny Weasley will no doubt follow shortly, and then it’ll be my turn.

I don’t know how long I’ll be here. I don’t think that any of the professors really know about this Room, or what it’s been used for the last two years. I hope not, anyway. As for my fellow students, the ones in the DA know it, but I don’t think they know how to get in here. So I may be safe. Unfortunately, there isn’t anywhere else in the castle I can go, and I can’t see any way to escape.

Even if I could, where would I go? I don’t imagine that Gran’s house is safe anymore, even if I could somehow get there. There isn’t anyplace else I can think of that seems like a reasonable possibility. And I don’t fancy my chances in the Muggle world.

Well, I’m going to see what else is here. That might give me an idea what to do next.

***

8th January 1998

If my watch is correct, I’ve slept for sixteen hours. I don’t think I’ve ever slept that long in one go in my life.

I’ve also never before been hiding out from “Professors� who regularly use the Cruciatus Curse on us in class, or order us to use it on our classmates. I suppose I needed the rest though.

I’ve completed my inventory of the Room. It seems to have changed itself while I slept. It’s quite a bit larger now than it was yesterday. This is what I’ve found:

One bed, extra-firm mattress, and blankets
One large Gryffindor banner (hanging on the south wall)
One hearth, with what appears to be at least a month’s supply of wood (this appeared overnight)
One bookshelf
Sixteen books on fighting the Dark Arts (in alphabetical order by author on said bookshelf)
One cupboard
Twelve loaves of bread and two jars of gooseberry jam, apparently removed from the kitchens (in said cupboard)
Thirty six bottles of pumpkin juice, also apparently removed from the kitchens (in said cupboard)
Twelve bottles of butterbeer, again, removed from the kitchens (also in said cupboard)
Twenty gallons of water
One Wireless set
One Wizard Chess set (this seems somewhat wrongheaded on the Room’s part since there is no one to play against)
One WC (including a loo, a sink, a shower and a full set of clean towels)
One diary (currently being written in)
One House-elf (spotted momentarily, nearly caught in the act of leaving the above mentioned food)

It looks like the Room expects me to stay for a while. I’m glad it is welcoming me. It must not like Snape and the Carrows any more than I do.

I wonder if that’s true. They say that houses and other buildings have personalities, after all. Gran used to talk about the old Van Eckel house just down the way from her house. She said that after Mr. Van Eckel died and his relatives sold it, the house refused to let anyone else live there. She said it drove out at least a dozen families. She specifically said it wasn’t a ghost, but the house itself.

I wonder. Hogwarts Castle is very old. It was built with magic, and it’s been home to very powerful witches and wizards for hundreds and hundreds of years. It could be alive, in a way. And why shouldn’t it hate the Death Eaters who are running it now? They spit on everything that the founders stood for (well, three of the four founders, I guess). They’re torturing students, for no reason, but their own sick amusement. And the other teachers can’t openly oppose them for fear of being sacked (or worse). I know they’re doing the best they can, and I understand that it’s better to keep their positions where they can at least try to prevent as much harm as possible. But…

My parents were tortured into madness. I’ve been tortured, and so have all my friends. And many people out in the world have died. It sounds a little hollow to me that Professors McGonagall, Sprout, Flitwick, and the other decent ones aren’t doing more…

I had to distract myself. I didn’t like where my thoughts were heading. I’m alone in here, and I don’t want to be thinking angry thoughts, especially since I have no outlet for them. I’ll read for a while and have lunch (is it lunchtime? My watch seems to have stopped working, and I have no idea what time it is). Maybe I’ll try to play chess against myself. I might have a chance of winning that way!

I’ve heard it’s good to joke when you’re in a stressful situation. It’s supposed to help relieve the tension. I wonder if that’s true.

***

9th January 1998

It’s now been two full days since I’ve spoken to anyone. I think that’s the longest I’ve ever gone without seeing another human being…

Someone was here while I slept.

There is blood. A trail of blood from the door, leading to a bed that was not here when I went to sleep last night.

The bed’s been slept in. There’s blood on the sheets as well. There are a few hairs on the pillow. They’re dark, and very long.

There’s a book under the bed. It’s one of those “Merlin’s Notes� study guides. It’s for Transfiguration. Gran disapproves of them. “You are going to school to learn properly, not to cheat your way through with these wretched little shortcut books,� she told me once in Flourish & Blotts. There’s no name, but there’s a “PP� in flowery script on the inside cover. So it must be one of the Patil twins. And there’s a small bottle of essence of dittany, though it’s empty.

I can guess what happened. Parvati, or Padma, ran into someone in the hallways – probably a fourth or fifth year Slytherin who had a go at her (any younger and they probably wouldn’t have been able to hurt her at all; any older and they’d have hurt her badly enough to send her to the Hospital Wing). It must have happened close enough to the Room that she had to pass by to get back to Gryffindor Tower, and it had to be the kind of injury that made it hard for her to walk. Maybe they used Sectemsempra on her, probably on her leg, cut her badly. So she was walking past the Room, and thought that she needed someplace to rest, someplace safe, somewhere she could heal herself before the bleeding got worse. I guess the Room really is looking out for us.

She probably didn’t even notice that I was asleep just a few feet away. I assume she would have woken me up if she had. She must have been in such pain, and also faint from blood loss, that she didn’t notice anything except the bed and the dittany. And when she woke up, if she did see me, all she probably saw was a body under the covers, so she didn’t know who it was, and she probably didn’t dare come close enough to check.

I guess if I ever do see Parvati, or Padma, and she’s got a nasty scar down her leg, I’ll know I was right.

***

10th January 1998

I have company. She’s a Gryffindor, and a second year. Her name is Ariel Stewart. I’ve seen her in the Common Room and at meals, but I don’t think I’ve spoken more than a dozen words to her all year. Until today, obviously.

She was put under the Cruciatus Curse for, she said, ten full minutes. She was in Dark Arts (there’s no point in calling it Defense Against the Dark Arts anymore), and she made the mistake of saying that all Muggles aren’t necessarily worthless and deserving of slavery, death or worse. She then made it worse on herself by saying (under very harsh questioning, I’m sure) that her great-grandfather was a Muggle, and a very brave and good man, and she was proud of him.

It took three hours to get that much from her. She arrived shortly after I woke up. The door opened, and she just fell inside. The door closed behind her. I picked her up and got her into the bed Parvati had used (the Room must have been expecting more visitors, or I guess it would have taken her bed away). I brought her some water, and I tried to talk to her.

She was wailing. I understand. I’ve never had Cruciatus use on me for longer than thirty seconds. Ten minutes must feel like an eternity.

I was angrier than I think I’ve ever been. Even when I saw Bellatrix Lestrange in the Ministry two years ago, I didn’t feel like this. I wanted to murder the Carrows – and Snape! – with my bare hands. But I had to try to put it out of my mind. Ariel didn’t need anger. She needed tranquility. I wetted a towel and wiped her face, and I started telling her stories about my Gran. It was the first subject that came to mind. I was hoping to get a smile, or a laugh, or any other response from her. It took a long time, but she finally recovered enough to tell me what had happened.

When she was done, I told her what I was doing here. I explained how I’ve been in the room for several days, and that I figured Snape was about ready to just kill me if he caught me, so I was going to keep hiding here for now.

She wants to stay as well. She thinks that she marked herself by talking about her Muggle great-grandfather. I think she’s right. There is certainly plenty of room here, and enough food. I wouldn’t want to go back again either, in her place.

Besides, if the Room let her in, it must want her to stay, if she chooses to. Who am I to say no?

And I could use the company. Maybe she knows how to play Wizard Chess?

***

11th January 1998

It is time to leave. We can’t stay here indefinitely. My absence is causing questions to be asked. The House-elf I almost caught a few days ago appeared again. He is Dobby, the elf who befriended Harry Potter. He gave us the news: several of my House-mates have been “punished� for “refusing� to reveal my whereabouts. I don’t believe any of my friends – or any Gryffindor at all - would give up one of their own, but it’s impossible to tell what you don’t know. Friends of mine are being tortured because they don’t know where I am.

I can’t let that continue. I’ll have to leave. Ariel will have to leave as well; I assume there will be similar questions and similar “punishment� directed at her friends, and she feels the same as I do. It’s going to take an hour or two for both of us to work up the nerve to actually leave, and to come up with excuses that Snape and the Carrows will believe. Or, at least, accept.

So I guess that’s it; I don’t think I’ll be writing in this again, I can’t risk anyone getting hold of it.

***

9th May 1998

I cannot believe that I left this in the Room! In my nervousness when I left back in January, I forgot this diary, and after a few hours of “questioning� by the Carrows, I was not thinking straight, and the diary went out of my mind.

I suppose I can still use that Remberall that Gran sent me back in first year.

She is why I’m back herein the Room. The Death Eaters tried to kidnap her – which was a big mistake. They thought she was a harmless old woman; they should have asked me about that! It’s actually funny. One of the men they sent, who was an Auror, is in St. Mungo’s, and Gran is nowhere to be found.

And now, neither am I. I was looking at what I wrote in January, and this time I really don’t think I’ll be leaving. Where would I go?


A/N: Special thanks to XhayleeXblackX for her help and bluemoon13 for their beta services

The parchment was practically burning a hole in Harry’s pocket as he waited for Hermione to return. He knew it was crazy to stare at a dot on a map, but it was far less crazy then every thing else he was forced to do at the moment. He found great comfort in looking at the dot, Ginny in class, or sitting in the Great Hall, or in the nearly deserted Gryffindor Commons. He wondered where Ginny would be tonight. Finally, Hermione returned from her watch. It was his turn. He jumped up quickly and left the tent, practically running to the watch point they had established earlier. His hands were shaking when he took the Marauder’s Map out of his pocket.

“I solemnly swear I am up to no good.� He whispered, tapping the parchment with his wand.

"Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs, purveyors of aids to magical mischief-makers, are proud to present the Marauders Map", appeared on the parchment.

“Lumos�, He called softly and a bright light illuminated the end of his wand.

He poured over the map, spotting Neville and Luna sitting together in the Great Hall, but no Ginny. He looked in the Library and the Commons, but no luck. His eyes went up the stairs to the Gryffindor Girls’ Dormitory. There she was. She was sitting alone in her room. If Hermione caught him staring at a dot, tears swimming in his eyes, she’d think he’d gone mental. Or not. She and Ron were snippy these days, but still on occasions, he caught the looks they shared between them. Somehow he knew she’d understand. Ron maybe not. Harry had done what Ron wanted. He had left Ginny alone. He knew he had broken her heart, because his own felt as if it was shattered and swimming about in his chest. He shut his eyes and let the tears fall remembering their last kiss.

~*~

Ginny sat on the window seat looking at the moon. The silence in her room was becoming more normal. At first, it had been difficult to be here, the absence of her roommates being a quiet form of torture. Emmy and Abigail, both Muggleborn, were hopefully deep in hiding, although she wasn’t sure. Jennifer, a Half-blood, she knew had gone into hiding with her Muggle side of the family, somewhere in the countryside. Millicent, a Pure-blood like Ginny, whose parents had sent her far away from Hogwarts, and hopefully, the War. It bothered Ginny no end to think of her friends in terms of their “Blood purity� but at this point, that was the only thing that mattered. She turned her attention to the Poster she had ripped off the wall in Hogsmeade. “Undesirable No. 1� it had emblazened on it, with a not terribly attractive picture of Harry. But as he moved his head back and forth, the rather grainy picture had some Harry-centric qualities she found so endearing. He often cocked his head to the side like that, and the little half smile was such a normal expression of his it made it hard for her to breath. She knew it was morbid, staring at a poster the Authorities had hoped would help catch him, but somehow it helped. She knew , obviously, that what Harry had to do was more important than the two of them, but this poster just made her more resolved to do whatever she could do to help.

“Not bloody much, holed up in Hogwarts.� She thought bitterly.

Ron’s sickness had been believed, as had Hermione’s flight with her family. It seemed absurd that it was working, but as far as she knew the three of them were safe. Ginny returned her thoughts to Harry. She was glad she had seen him once more at the Burrow. Their parting at Dumbledore’s funeral had been impossible for her to get over, but that last kiss they shared had kindled a small bit of hope deep inside her.

~*~

The following day, Ginny sat in Transfiguration Class, glumly hoping nothing would go wrong. Last class, she had inadvertently vanished her guinea fowl’s body, leaving its feet to wander aimlessly about her desktop. Professor McGonagall had been quite nice about it, saying it happened all the time. But they both knew that it shouldn’t happen to Ginny. She had been able to put it back together before the end of class, but barely. Today they were going to move along to whooper swans, a prospect that left Ginny a little leery.

“The whooper swan,� began Professor McGonagall “is one of the largest genus of European swans. They must live by large bodies of water as their legs cannot hold their body weight for extended periods of time.�

“Gives Ginny’s bird a bit of a chance then, doesn’t it?� piped in Magda Plumer, a particularly odious Slytherin.

Before Ginny could think of a worthy reply, there was a knock at the door. A small Slytherin boy that Ginny didn’t recognize handed Professor McGonagall a note.

“Head Master Snape would like to see Miss Ginny Weasley,� read Professor McGonagall. “ Miss Weasley, please collect your things and follow Mr. Finders.�

The other students in the classroom exchanged puzzled looks. Ginny ignored the tittering and collected her things as she had been told. Professor McGonagall gave her a half smile, but obviously was worried. Ginny grinned back at her teacher, some how feeling more confident just by pretending she had confidence.

~*~

Ginny stood in front of the gargoyle protecting the staircase leading to the Head Masters office. She had no idea what the password could be.

“Armadillo bile.� She said jokingly, this being an ingredient of the last potion Snape had taught her class as the Potions Master

Astoundingly, the gargoyle jumped aside, showing the spiral staircase. Ginny shrugged and stepped on the bottom step and road up to the Head Master’s Office. At this point, nothing surprised her, and nothing was going to stop her, either. She entered his office and looked at the portraits. The one where Dumbledore should be was presently empty. She had half hoped he’d be there for moral support, but she wasn’t keen on seeing him as a portrait, either. She stood in front of Head Master Snape, not knowing what to say. She knew, of course, that he had been the one who had attacked George when he had masqueraded as Harry. That had surprised her, since she had known him as a member of the Order for as long as she could remember. She knew Harry and Ron and Hermione hated him, but she never really did. He obviously favored the Slytherins, but he never did anything mean to her. She was always a decent student who did her work well, and he was always a decent teacher. But now, he had shown himself to be the enemy. For all she knew he could have been one of the Death Eaters that had attacked Bill’s wedding. She was the only student at the school with an obvious affiliation with the Order, a fact that they both knew only too well.

“Miss Weasley,� began Head Master Snape, motioning her to the chair across from his desk. He paused as she sat down on the edge of the chair, her eyes cautiously looking directly into his.

Snape returned her stare. He had not wanted to involve Miss Weasley, if he could help it. He could only imagine her feelings for him, since the fiasco with the fake Potters, but he needed an ally. She was the only person he could even attempt to reach out to. She was also quick witted and capable, two things he valued but saw only rarely. He had been surprised to see her walk into the Great Hall at the beginning of the term. Her parents took too many chances with her safety, he thought. Bad enough they thrust her to the side, keeping her ignorant of the Orders doings, but to send her back to Hogwarts when all the school knew of her and Potter’s growing affection was bordering on the homicidally negligent. Still he was fortunate to have her there.

“Miss Weasley,� he repeated, breaking eye contact by looking at his hands folded on his desk. “I can understand you’re anxiousness in my calling you here.�

He looked up and was surprised that her expression was neutral. “But…� He continued, “I find that I need your assistance.�

Ginny was extremely puzzled at what he could possibly want her to do, but she controlled her emotions. “I’m listening, Head Master.� She said finally, breaking the silence.

Snape paused again and looked up at the portrait where Dumbledore usually sat. They had debated whether he should be here for this interview, but it had been decided that the shock of Dumbledore being embedded in a portrait would far out weigh any convincing arguments he might have come up with. Snape was still not sure if that outcome had been in anyone’s best interest, but found he had no choice in the matter. Still, Miss Weasley was surprisingly collected considering all the events of the previous summer.

“To get to the point then. Do you see that sword on the wall?� he asked making a vague sweeping motion with his arm.

“Godric Gryffindor’s sword?� She asked incredulously.

“No, that’s not Godric Gryffindor’s sword. But I, and now you, only know that fact, as does…� His voice trailed off as they both looked at Dumbledore’s empty portrait. “I need for the rest of the world to think that that sword is Gryffindor’s, and that’s where I need your assistance.�

It was Ginny’s turn to stare at her hands, which she had folded neatly in her lap. She could feel them shaking slightly. He didn’t know about her first year. He couldn’t know
she was the one who unleashed the Basilisk. It had been agreed that the fewer people who knew the better. Ginny could have never returned to Hogwarts if it had been general knowledge. The sword had to be for Harry, she thought. He had saved her life with it then and it could help him now.

“What do you need me to do?� She asked, deciding that she had no choice but to trust him. When Ginny looked back on her life, she was sure that this would be one of those defining moments. She hoped it would be a good memory.

“Tonight, you and Mr. Longbottom and Miss Lovegood will attempt to steal the sword. All you have to do is smash the glass case, grab the sword and I’ll stop you before you get to the landing. I’ll report it and will have no choice but to take the sword away from the school.�

“Can’t you just take the sword away, saying you’re afraid of a theft, sir? Not meaning to be disrespectful, but the margin for error is huge!� Ginny could just imagine Neville doing something heroic and inadvertently getting them all killed.

Snape looked at Ginny. Normally, he would not have tolerated such an outburst, but he couldn’t help but understand her reluctance. “I’ll make sure that none of the Prefects or Professors are near this corridor. You just have to make sure that Longbottom and Lovegood believe they are actually stealing the sword. Trust me, Miss Weasley, it’s the safest way.� [

~*~

Hours later, Ginny stood in Gryffindor Commons, watching the embers slowly turn to dust. The guilt she had felt when she had unfolded the plan to Neville and Luna still jabbed at her. While she had a natural talent for blatant lying, she still didn’t enjoy it. Besides, it was one thing for her to decide to trust Snape, and to go along with his plan knowing the risks, but quite another thing to blindside her friends. Poor Neville, his face looked like he’d been stung by a dozen bees. Amycus Carrow’s system of detention by making the students target practice was taking its toll. Head Master Snape had promised to take the Carrows out of the equation. They were nasty, but not very bright, and no match for Snape. Finally, Neville appeared in the Common Room. He was eager to get started. Ginny looked at his still swollen face.

“Oh, Neville,� she cried, “Aren’t there any charms to take care of that?�

“It’s Impervious� He said proudly.

Ginny looked sadly at her friend. She had tried to warn Snape about the newly improved Neville. She hoped Snape would be able to disarm him without anyone getting hurt. She knew this little job was nothing compared to a real Order of the Phoenix assignment, but she couldn’t help wishing she had a better crew. She loved Neville and Luna dearly, and knew they were both very bright, but they were also so easily distracted.

Neville and Ginny met Luna in the hallway, near the Head Master’s Office, as they had arranged. Silently they made their way to the Gargoyle. Ginny whispered a nonsense word, as the Head Master had told her the only way past his new charms and spells was if you were supposed to be allowed in; passwords had outlived their day. The Gargoyle jumped out of the way and the three of them were carried up the stairs to the office.

“Effractus Hyalus�, shouted Ginny pointing her wand at the case, and it shattered into a million pieces. Neville and Luna picked up the sword, with Ginny following closely behind, their wands at the ready. Head Master Snape met them at the bottom of the staircase. He was able to apprehend them without incident.

Two days later, the three of them turned themselves over to Hagrid to serve their detentions. Ginny was amazed that no one had questioned this method of detention, as it had always seemed the weakest part of the plan.

A/N Special thanks to my beta ix3thehpseries for being so speedy and wonderful.