This chapter is dedicated to Brittany of Britannia and Kalindria--her
birthday was the 27th of May. I'm afraid this chapter isn't much in
the way of a happy birthday present. To be perfectly honest, it's
downright depressing. But I hope you like it regardless, m'dear.

Standard disclaimers apply. Harry Potter, all related characters, and
various media incarnations are copyright of the very talented J. K.
Rowling, Scholastic, and other international companies involved in
its creation and distribution. Will Stanton and "The Dark Is Rising"
series are both copyright of the wonderful Susan Cooper.

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Harry Potter and the Legacy of the Light
A Harry Potter/The Dark Is Rising Sequence Fusion
By: Gramarye

Chapter Twenty-Three - Walls Around the Heart

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No such thing as a man willing to be honest--that would be like a
blind man willing to see.

-- F. Scott Fitzgerald

------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry wasn't quite sure what he expected to see when Hermione opened
the door.

Death Eaters, at the very least. Voldemort could have discovered some
way to bypass the warding and protection spells and enter the castle
without Harry feeling it. Maybe he'd captured all of the students and
teachers except for the five of them, and now he was forcing McGonagall
and Snape (or using their voices, through magical means) to trick them
into opening the door.

But then again, Will had specifically instructed Hermione to show the
two teachers into the room. He didn't appear to be at all worried.

Some sort of Dark creature, then. Some foul being of the pit that they
wouldn't learn about in Defence Against the Dark Arts classes until
their seventh year. He'd read enough books from the Restricted Section
to know that a creature of that kind could cause the stone charms to
react, provided its magic was powerful enough.

But then again, why would a Dark creature go to all the trouble of
imitating the voices of two Hogwarts professors when it could simply
wait until the five of them left the room?

Or perhaps they would be expected to face a shapeless, formless mass
of evil, the power of the Dark in its purest form.

But then again...no, Harry didn't think he could justify that.

All these theories, each more awful than the last, flashed through his
mind in the three seconds that it took for Hermione to open the door.
Out of caution--or fear--she had only opened the door partway, just
enough for them to see who was waiting outside.

Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape were standing in the corridor.
And as far as Harry could tell, they were the real, genuine articles.

The relief he felt was so mindnumbingly strong that it was closer to
disappointment.

Professor McGonagall looked relieved as well, very happy to see that
everything was all right. Snape, on the other hand, looked like someone
had sneaked up behind him and doused him with a bucket of ice water.
His body was rigid, his back unnaturally straight. The skin of his face,
normally sallow, had turned a colour better suited for a corpse than a
living person.

"Stanton...." His voice came from somewhere deep in his chest, as low
and ominous as a rumble of thunder before a storm.

Will cleared his throat, and stood up.

"Miss Granger, if you would be so kind...." he said meaningfully.

Hermione hastily opened the door a little wider to allow the teachers
to enter.

McGonagall brushed past without a second glance. Snape, after a
moment's uncertain pause, followed her. As soon as the door had
clicked shut, the Headmistress of Hogwarts nodded to Will, who
bowed to her with the same degree of respect and formality he had
always shown to Dumbledore.

"Please pardon the interruption, Dr Stanton," she said.

"No need to apologise, Headmistress," Will replied graciously, his
voice as formal as the steps of a ballroom dance. "This must be a
most important matter if--"

"I don't believe this." Snape gave Will the malignant glare he usually
held in reserve for troublesome Gryffindors. "You overconfident,
small-minded--"

"Severus, please!" McGonagall scolded.

Snape wasn't about to listen to teacher. "I knew from the start that
allowing you to come last year was a foolish mistake," he said in the
threatening monotone that Harry and the others knew all too well.
"Do you have any idea what you've done? If the Dark Lord were to
discover that Will Stanton, of ALL people, had been consorting with
the great Harry Potter and his little band of hangers-on...but then
again, you wouldn't care about that sort of thing, would you?"

His intonation changed, sliding from disgusted criticism into an
exaggeratedly submissive, servile drawl. "Please enlighten me, why
exactly do you deign to favour we poor, wretched mort--"

"Have you found the Veritaserum counteragent yet?"

Will's question stopped Snape's angry outburst in mid-word.

"Wh...what?" he choked, taken aback.

"That counteragent you were developing for Veritaserum--last I knew,
you hadn't finalised it yet. Has the situation changed at all?"

The explanation had given Snape enough time to collect himself. When
he answered, his voice was back to its usual contemptuous self. "No,
it hasn't."

"That is my reason." Will smiled faintly. "Oh, I don't doubt your
courage. Quite the contrary, in fact. But you can't tell what you
don't know. And you know as well as I that the Dark Lord would
have no qualms about using one of your own concoctions against
you, if it suited his needs."

"And you chose to--"

"Albus Dumbledore decided long ago that this matter would be on a
need-to-know basis. Besides the children, only Professor McGonagall
and Arabella Figg were informed of the situation. You were safer in
ignorance...and, for that matter, so were we."

"Severus, this is not what we came for," McGonagall said, frowning at
him.

The veins in Snape's neck stood out like quivering blue ropes, but he
remained silent.

McGonagall turned to look at Hermione, who had returned to stand
beside the chair closest to the door.

"Miss Granger, Professor Snape tells me that his second year students
had an essay assigned last week, to be turned in today," she said.

"Yes, that's right," Hermione replied, glad that the topic had changed
to the more comfortable matter of schoolwork.

"You have been helping Natalie McDonald study for Potions, am I
right?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, that's right."

"What exactly have you been helping her with?"

Hermione's brow furrowed in thought. "Well, the last thing I really
helped her with was the essay you mentioned. Professor Snape tends
to assign rather"--she cast a wary glance at Snape--"challenging topics,
so I helped her think of ideas to incorporate in the essay."

"Did you, then," Snape muttered.

Something in his tone made a warning bell go off in Harry's head.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, alarmed. "Did she fail?"

"No, she didn't," said McGonagall.

Snape reached into the folds of his robes and produced a tightly rolled
parchment tied with a thin ribbon. He loosened the knot on the ribbon
with a flick of his finger, and deftly unrolled the parchment.

"I suggest you have a look at this, Miss Granger," he said, holding it
out to her. He held the end pinched delicately between thumb and
forefinger, extended at arm's length, as he was trying to avoid being
contaminated by contact with the document.

Puzzled, Hermione took the paper from him, and unrolled it enough to
read from the beginning. Her eyes scanned the page with the practised
speed of one accustomed to reading and absorbing the information from
long documents. Her lips moved silently as she read.

But after a minute, her eyes weren't moving quite so fast. The motion
of her lips slowly and eventually stopped. She continued to read, more
carefully now. Every so often, she would squint at the paper or move
it closer to her eyes, as if she couldn't quite comprehend what she was
reading.

As Harry watched her read, the warning bells began to grow louder,
more insistent. On a sudden impulse, he reached down to pat at his
pocket. The inexplicable coldness of the stone continued to beat
through the fabric. The Dark was still present...but how?

"It's...this is...."

Harry's hand fell to his side. Quickly, he looked up.

Hermione had stopped reading. Absently, she let go of the bottom of
the parchment, and the document springily snapped back into its neat
roll.

"Hermione?" Ron said her name worriedly.

She shook her head. "This...there must be some mistake."

"What is it?" Ginny asked, craning her neck in an attempt to see the
document.

Hermione turned to Snape, forcing a brilliant, baffled grin. "This is
almost identical to the essay that I wrote in second year."

"Almost identical, yes." Snape's lips drew back from his teeth in a
superior smile. "With a few sentences and the occasional paragraph
deleted to fit it to the length requirements. As I recall, you ignored
my very clear instructions and rambled on for a good six feet."

Hermione's face went rigid. Her smile froze.

"This...this can't be right." The rolled parchment crackled in her
tightening grip. "It can't."

Snape couldn't resist a final parting shot. "I can assure you it is.
It would be hard to forget a paper so stultifyingly boring."

Suddenly, everyone seemed to be moving at once.

The parchment fell to the floor.

Hermione's hands flew to her face. With a keening, tortured cry,
she staggered backward and fell heavily into her chair.

Ginny ran to Hermione and made a valiant effort to pull the older
girl's hands away from her face. She hugged her friend, pouring
nonsense syllables of comfort and reassurance into deaf ears.

Ron hadn't waited to hear Snape's final remark. He had been in motion
before Snape had finished speaking. He sprang forward with an eerie,
predatory snarl, and very likely would have succeeded in his intent to
rip out the Potions Master's throat if Harry and Neville hadn't leapt
to intervene at the last second. And even then, after they had tackled
him and pinned him to the ground, Ron fought their restraining grip.

"HOW DARE YOU!" he roared, twisting and writhing like a man in
the throes of a seizure.

Neville and Harry doubled and redoubled their efforts to keep him down,
though in their heart of hearts they would have been perfectly content
to let go and damn the consequences.

McGonagall swept forward, wand raised to deliver an immobilisation
spell, but Snape flung out his arm and stopped her. It was hard to tell
whether he had done so without thinking or whether he had her safety
in mind. But whatever the reason, a thin line of sweat shone on his
brow, and not even his characteristic sneer could disguise the glint
of instinctive fear in his eyes.

Neville, who was sitting on Ron's back, gave Snape a baleful glare
filled with all the hatred and loathing he could muster.

"How can you even suspect her of something like that?" he demanded.
His tone clearly indicated that he suspected Slytherin foul play, that
Snape had fabricated the damning evidence out of spite.

"Hermione would NEVER cheat!" Ginny said vehemently, her eyes
flashing fire.

Hermione was unable to speak in her own defence. Ginny's shielding
embrace blocked most of her from sight, but the little they could see
was more than enough to know the state of her mind. Violent sobs
made her hunched shoulders shake. Her hair, unruly at the best of
times, had fallen over her face to create a thick curtain that hid her
from view. The endless, maddening sound of her crying rose and fell
in jagged spikes. Curled into a tight ball, feet tucked underneath her
and arms pulled in to her sides, she looked as if she wanted nothing
more than to shrivel up and die.

Harry was prepared to add his own thoughts on Severus Snape to
the general opinion, but as turned his head (all the while keeping his
grip tight on Ron's hands and his full body weight centred on Ron's
ankles) he saw that Will had moved to stand behind Hermione. Will
touched the weeping girl's shoulder lightly with one hand, though he
made no attempt to calm her.

"This is a very serious accusation," he said, his voice just loud
enough to be heard over Hermione's sobs and Ron's struggles.
"I trust that there will be further investigation into the matter?"

Harry couldn't tell whether he was addressing Snape or McGonagall,
but Snape seemed to take the question as a personal insult.

"Of course! What do you take us for?" Irony twisted the thin line of
his mouth. "'Witch hunters'?"

The charged comment hung heavy in the air. Even Ron stopped moving
for a moment, temporarily distracted.

Unaware, Hermione continued to sob.

Will turned his attention to Snape with the mild interest of someone
who has wandered into the middle of an interesting conversation.

"You said the paper was due today?" he asked.

"Yes," was the cold reply.

McGonagall spoke up, wielding some measure of her authority before
the situation could become even more overcharged. "I felt that it was
only proper to notify Miss Granger as soon as possible."

"Has the other girl been notified as well?" Will asked.

"Not yet."

That provoked a sharp glance. "Why not?"

"I thought that Miss Granger should be the first to know," Snape said.

"Did you, then." Will's words and tone were a near perfect mimicry of
Snape.

Neville, caught up in the tenseness of the moment, let out a high,
hysterical giggle that he tried to cover with a feeble cough.

Through a remarkable exercise of emotional control, Snape kept his
temper. "After all, it was her paper," he said, artificially casual.

"What actions will be taken?"

"Both girls will be confined to the dormitory outside of classes until
the Heads of Houses can arrange a faculty hearing to further examine
this incident," McGonagall said. "And until the hearing, Miss Granger
will be relieved of all her duties as prefect."

A blood-curdling wail emerged from behind the curtain of hair. Ron
uttered a curse and reintensified his efforts to break free.

Will paid no attention to the scuffle at his feet. "And how long will
it be until the faculty hearing?"

"One week," McGonagall said with a heavy heart. "Perhaps a fortnight."

"I see," he said thoughtfully, glancing down at Hermione.

"Obviously, you understand the need for thoroughness in matters such
as these," Snape added, not without a hint of spitefulness.

Harry was outraged. Hermione's reputation was at stake, and they were
discussing the issue as if it was nothing more than a point of business on
the agenda of a faculty meeting.

He was about to say something to that effect, anything to point out the
lunacy of the accusation, when he noticed that Will was looking at him.
There was a quiet mastery in the Old One's eyes that was reassuring
and yet alarming at the same time.

Harry nodded imperceptibly, understanding the unspoken order. He
would keep silent.

Satisfied, Will turned back to regard the two professors. But in that
half-second, something in the room had changed. There had been a
very subtle shift in the balance of power, turning it slightly in Will's
favour.

"The sessions will continue, of course," he said.

Snape made an outraged noise.

"I think not," he said, sounding scandalised that such a suggestion
would even be considered. "According to the rules of this school, a
situation of this nature demands that participation in any and all
extracurricular activities be suspended for the entire duration of
their probation. Both Miss Granger and Miss McDonald must be
confined to their rooms outside of classes."

For the first time, Will's calm facade slipped.

"My dear sir," he said frostily, "do you really think that a case of
schoolgirl plagiarism will prevent the Dark Lord from implementing
his plans? The sessions must continue."

Snape's glare could have frozen running water. "I warn you, Stanton--"

"I will personally vouch for Hermione Granger's future actions, but I
will not be held responsible for what may happen if any more time is
lost." The severity of his gaze hinted that a good deal could and would
happen if any more time was lost, and that Snape would do well to
remember it.

With that particular dispute abruptly ended, he turned to McGonagall.
"Headmistress, I appeal to your authority in this matter."

McGonagall hesitated.

From his awkward vantage point, Harry could see her weighing the
facts and judging the situation. She had long been a strict adherent to
the letter of the law--taking no favourites, punishing her own students
as well as those from other houses for infringements of school rules--
and to make an exception would go against everything she believed
and stood for. But even a strict adherent could see that there were
times when exceptions had to be made.

All of the students in the room, Hermione not the least, had proved
that often enough.

"The sessions may continue," she said at last. They could hear the
reservation she attempted to conceal. "But I must insist that Miss
Granger be escorted to and from this room for each one...by a
faculty member."

"Then," Will said, "may I suggest that Professor Snape be that faculty
member? After all, who better than he to ensure that the school rules
are carried out to the letter?"

Professor Snape looked as though a potion he had been brewing had
just exploded in his face.

"He will not have to stay for the sessions, of course," Will added
smoothly. "Unless he would care to, that is."

Snape found his voice a moment too late. "Minerva, I--"

"I think that is a very good idea, Dr Stanton," McGonagall replied,
without looking at her colleague. "And I'm sure that Professor Snape
would find that idea agreeable."

Snape's breath came hard and fast, whistling through his clenched
teeth.

"Excellent. Monday and Thursday evenings at seven o'clock, then?"

"Agreed. Severus?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Agreed." Snape spat the word out.

Will inclined his head humbly. "Thank you both. Now, would you permit
me to detain these students for a few more minutes? They will be back
in their dormitory by curfew--you have my word."

"Of course." McGonagall stooped down and picked up the discarded
roll of parchment. She tucked it safely into her robes. Then, she touched
Snape's shoulder and firmly guided him to the door.

With a final burning glare at all of them, his cold eyes lingering longest
on Will, Snape allowed himself to be escorted from the room.

The second the door had closed, Ron wormed his way out of Neville
and Harry's restraining grip. He ran for the door and flung it open in
one furious motion.

His shout reverberated, magnified against the stone walls of the
corridor. "Just you wait, you greasy, hook-nosed--"

"Mr Weasley," Will said sharply. "Control yourself."

Cowed, but not calmed, Ron slunk back into the room and slammed
the door.

Harry let out the breath he hadn't even known he had been holding.

Scattered pops and crackles from the fire made dents in the silence
of the room. Hermione's sobs had stopped some time before; no one
quite knew when. Ginny continued to rub her back and whisper words
of encouragement, but she might have been trying to cheer up a carved
block of wood for all the response she received.

"It's never going to end, is it?" Neville said miserably, rubbing his feet
and ankles to restore the blood flow. Keeping an angry Weasley under
control required a good deal of physical exertion.

Ron commented darkly, "If it's not one thing, it's another."

"Testing never ends," Will said, unemotionally.

Sweeping his long cloak out of the way, he knelt down beside Hermione's
chair. He took one of her hands in his.

Reluctantly, Ginny let go of Hermione and moved aside. She stepped
back a few paces to stand beside her brother. Harry and Neville
quickly joined the cluster of worried faces that had gathered around
Will and Hermione.

Will patted her hand. "Miss Granger."

Hermione didn't move.

Will cupped her hand in both of his, applying gentle but firm pressure.
"Hermione."

Her head lifted slightly. The frizzy brown curtain parted to reveal
her red, swollen face, surprisingly free of tear marks. She gazed at
Will with the pained confusion of a stray dog that had been hit by a
speeding car.

"I thought I left it at home," she whispered brokenly.

"I know, my dear."

She shook her head vigorously. "It wasn't there when I looked. I
looked everywhere, and it wasn't there. It WASN'T there." Growing
panic twisted her face.

Still holding her hand, Will leaned forward and touched the side of her
face with the tips of his fingers. He gazed steadily into her frightened
eyes. His lips moved in silent speech, whispering words in the ancient
language of his magic.

Hermione's eyelids fluttered. The shock and bewilderment drained
from her face, leaving it as blank as the painted skin of a china doll.

"Wasn't there...." she breathed, a final protestation.

Her head dropped, and she slept.

Will brushed a few stray strands of hair out of her face, and passed
a hand across her flushed forehead.

"Rest now, child," he murmured. "All will be well. Have no fear."

Slowly, he got to his feet and moved over to the table. He pulled
his briefcase toward him and began to arrange the papers inside it.

"I doubt if anything more can be accomplished tonight," he said. "I
must speak to your former Headmaster." He glanced at Harry. "Mr
Potter, I would like you to accompany me--you can carry any relevant
information back to your colleagues."

This was news to them.

"T-to Dumbledore?" Harry said.

"Yes. He is in the castle tonight, in his office, and asked me to stop
by if I had a chance. I had hoped to present a better report, but such
is circumstance." The briefcase clicked shut. "You'll be back before
curfew, though. I have no desire to give Professor Snape more cause
for alarm."

No arguing with that. "Yes, sir."

"What about us?" Neville piped up.

"You and Mr Weasley transport Miss Granger back to your dormitory
and put her in bed. Don't worry about waking her--she will not wake
again for some time."

"Right," said Ron. An idea lit up his eyes, and he put on a concerned
expression. "What a pity that she had another...'funny turn'."

"An excellent idea, Mr Weasley. I couldn't have done better myself."
Will turned to Ginny. "Miss Weasley, go with them. I would like you
to spend the rest of the night in Miss Granger's room...prevent her
roommates from disturbing her, field any of their prying questions.
I trust you to come up with a suitable story."

Ginny nodded. "Okay."

"And Miss Weasley?"

"Yes?"

His calm eyes grew very grave. "Stay with her at all times. Do not
let her out of your sight. If she questions your presence when she
wakes--though I doubt she will--say that you are guarding her at
my request out of concern for her safety."

"Do you expect some sort of attack, sir?" Neville asked in a nervous
hush.

"No, Mr Longbottom," Will said sadly. "I expect--no, I fear--that
the only harm done will be by her own hands."

Rage flared in Ron's eyes, and for a sick moment Harry thought that
he and Neville would have to hold him down again.

"She wouldn't!" Ginny exclaimed, aghast.

In answer, Will lifted one of Hermione's limp hands. Gently, he turned
it this way and that, studying it and examining from all angles. He paid
very close attention to her fingertips. Then he beckoned to them,
inviting them to come closer.

The four students crowded around to see what Will had found.

Underneath Hermione's fingernails were a few flakes of what could only
be skin. Four deep, crescent-moon shaped indentations marked each
palm when her nails had gouged the soft flesh.

Horrified, Harry's eyes darted from her hand to her face. His stomach
turned over as he saw several thin red scratch marks marring her pale
cheeks. The redness of her face had concealed them before, but the
marks were plain enough now. Although the scratches weren't deep
and hadn't drawn blood, they were enough to unnerve any observer
who knew Hermione well.

"Third year." Strain made Neville's voice shake.

Ginny tore her eyes away from Hermione's hands. "Wh-what?"

"Defence Against the Dark Arts," he said. "We had to face a Boggart
as an exam. Hermione's Boggart was--"

"McGonagall," Ron interrupted grimly. He and Harry both understood
what Neville was getting at. "It was McGonagall...telling her she'd
failed all her exams."

Will placed Hermione's hand back in her lap.

"Even the famous Gryffindor courage can fail at times," he said. His
level gaze scrutinised each of them in turn. "You five have always
protected and taken care of each other...I know you will take care
of her now."

* * *

Both Ron and Neville cast the Mobilicorpus spell on Hermione. Ron
assigned Ginny to walk beside Hermione as she floated along, just in
case. He wasn't taking any chances.

Harry and Will saw them safely on their way back to Gryffindor Tower.
Harry extinguished the fire in the grate with a wave of his wand, and
the two of them hastened through the corridors to Dumbledore's office.

A thousand burning questions were on Harry's tongue, but there wasn't
much time for talking. He winnowed his questions down to the most
important few, took a deep breath, and started to seek the answers.

"Why did the stone react like that?"

"For the obvious reason, Mr Potter. We were in the presence of the
Dark."

"But it was just McGonagall and Sn...." He fell silent under the
weight of realisation. "Oh."

Will stared straight ahead. "Those who have once sold themselves to
the Dark will always carry that taint with them. The stones make no
distinction between traitor and spy, just as I make no distinction."

The statement was chilling enough, but the complete lack of emotion
in Will's voice made the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stand on
end.

"Oh," he said lamely. After an uncomfortable beat, he tried again.
"Professor Snape doesn't like you much, does he?"

"You don't miss much, do you?" Will replied, neatly turning the
question around.

Harry remained undaunted. "And you don't like him, either."

Will sniffed. "Whether I like him or not is irrelevant. He is useful,
at times."

Useful. Another prickle of coldness shot through Harry's body.

"Oh," he said again.

Fortunately, they soon came to the immense stone gargoyle that
stood guard outside the entrance to Dumbledore's office.

"Vegemite," Will said.

Harry stared incredulously, first at the gargoyle, then at Will.

"Don't look at me," Will said as the entrance opened before them.
"I can't stand the stuff myself."

Within moments, they were seated inside the familiar, cosy warmth
of Dumbledore's office. The fire was welcoming. Fawkes dozed
on his perch, his brilliant feathers gleaming in the flickering firelight.
Harry gratefully accepted Dumbledore's offer of hot chocolate,
though Will declined politely in favour of tea.

With a brimming cup and saucer balanced precariously on his knees,
Will began. "Minister, if I may--"

"You can dispense with the titles, Dr Stanton," Dumbledore interrupted
wearily. "I hear enough of it all day. This place is my sanctuary, my
escape from the niceties of diplomacy."

Harry, quick to pick up on the tone of voice, noticed tiny lines of
exhaustion around Dumbledore's eyes and mouth that hadn't been
there before. His eyes, though still bright, had lost a little of their
customary twinkle.

"Point conceded." Will sipped his tea.

Dumbledore adjusted his half-moon spectacles. "So, what news is
there?"

"Snape just accused Hermione of cheating," Harry blurted out before
he could stop himself. "Of letting someone copy her paper, if you
can believe it."

Will set his cup down and gave him a withering look. "That wasn't
exactly the news I had intended, Mr Potter."

Dumbledore sighed. "Another obstacle, eh, Dr Stanton?"

"Don't trouble yourself with it, please," Will said. "Things will sort
themselves out soon enough. They have a funny way of doing so."

"So they do," said Dumbledore.

"And in other news, Miss Ginny Weasley has graciously consented
to throw her lot in with us, as it were."

Dumbledore chuckled. "I bet her brother wasn't too pleased."

"You could say that." The corner of Will's mouth twitched briefly.
"But progress is being made. Our Mr Potter and his friends have
performed most admirably of late."

"That's a comfort. Better than some of the news I've been hearing."

"Matters that have been kept from the press?"

"Something like that," Dumbledore said wryly. "A few things. Nothing
too earth-shaking. But rumours have reached me that Lucius Malfoy
has been very ill for some time now."

Will nearly choked on his mouthful of tea. "Has he?"

"Yes. Quite unable to leave his bed, in fact. It's most distressing."
There was a trace of irony somewhere in that final remark, but it
was hard to spot.

"How long has he been...incapacitated?"

"The middle of January. At the least."

"Cruciatus," Will murmured.

"It would appear so." Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully.
"The Dark Lord is not pleased with him...or so I've heard."

"Because he botched the Christmas Eve attack?" Harry said softly,
staring into the depths of his cocoa mug.

Dumbledore and Will exchanged glances.

"You're a very bright boy, Harry," Dumbledore said at last. "I thought
you might have guessed as much."

Harry set his cocoa down. He didn't trust his hands.

"So he was the one," he said flatly.

"Lucius was very careful, as always," Dumbledore continued. "He'd
never do it himself. But the Ministry has done some checking, and
we've discovered that the witch and wizard who actually carried out
the attack were from New Zealand."

"Spending the Christmas holiday in England?" Will asked.

"No," Dumbledore said sadly. "They were on their honeymoon."

Harry didn't want his cocoa anymore. He felt sick.

"And Draco...it was Draco, wasn't it?" he said. "Draco told his dad,
and his dad planned it, and then it went wrong and he was punished
for it."

"So we'd like to think. But finding enough proof...." Dumbledore
sighed again. "Has Draco been acting...strange recently?"

"Yes." Harry didn't have to think twice before answering. He told the
whole story of the Quidditch match against Slytherin, of the fear he
thought he had seen in Draco's eyes, of the odd little confrontation at
lunchtime, of Ron's violent reaction when he had voiced his suspicions.
He did his best not to leave anything out.

"Draco seems to be concerned for his father," Will said when he had
finished. "Regardless of whether he knows the real reason for his
father's ill health."

"Maybe this is what we need," Dumbledore remarked. Some of his
old energy had returned. "Something solid and painful like this could
be the think to shake Draco. I will let Severus know...he has tried to
talk to the boy before, but there might be a better chance now."

The clock chimed the hour.

"Curfew." Will rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I'm terribly sorry...I'd
forgotten."

"Don't worry, Dr Stanton." Dumbledore stood, and traced a small
figure-eight in the air with his wand. The empty crockery disappeared
in the blink of an eye. "I will take him back to Gryffindor Tower. It'll
do me good to stretch my legs, and I doubt even Professor Snape
would object to the Minister for Magic as an escort." His bright eyes
twinkled. "Well, not to my face, anyway."

"Thank you, sir," Will said, closing his eyes.

Harry got to his feet, sorting through the information he would have
to tell Ron and the others. The subject of Draco was an explosive
one, and he needed more time to organise his thoughts. After all,
he had to be somewhat objective.

"We can continue this discussion when I return, if you have the time,"
Dumbledore said.

"Time is not an issue," Will replied with a small smile.

Dumbledore matched his smile, as if sharing a private joke. He put
a hand on Harry's shoulder and ushered him from the room.

As the door closed behind them, Harry caught the feathery rustle of
wings and heard the beginnings of liquid birdsong, breathtakingly
beautiful. Fawkes was singing, pouring out his healing music to the
room's one remaining occupant.

* * *

Before their Transfiguration class the next day, McGonagall pulled
Hermione aside and informed her of several important facts--facts
which she related to Ron, Harry, and Neville the moment class had
ended.

The faculty hearing was tentatively scheduled, slated to be held on
Tuesday fortnight. It would be run jointly by the Heads of the four
Houses, with McGonagall presiding as Headmistress. It would take
place sometime after dinner, giving the teachers enough time to put
aside their classroom duties and turn their attention to the more
pressing business. As one of the accused, she was permitted to have
one, and only one, other student with her during the hearing. The
student would act as both witness to the proceedings and counsel
to her.

Hermione accepted all of this stoically. McGonagall, perhaps a little
disturbed at her student's blank acceptance of the unpleasant facts,
brusquely dismissed her to begin the lecture a few minutes early.

Word spread fast, as it always does. Harry, Ron, Neville, Ginny,
and Colin were Hermione's silent and unwavering champions. The
second-year Gryffindor girls were very vocal in defence of their
classmate. Most of the school, however, seemed to be uncertain
about which side was in the right--they'd never seen anything to
rival this dilemma. It was impossible to think that teacher's pet,
know-it-all, Perfect Prefect Hermione Granger would permit
cheating, especially from her own hard work. But there was no
denying that she had been helping Natalie, and if she had been
desperate to raise the younger girl's marks....

Harry was reminded of second year, of the whole Heir of Slytherin
debacle. The fearful, uncertain reaction of his fellow students was
much the same. But this time Fred and George couldn't do anything
to lighten the mood. Even they couldn't make jokes about this sort
of thing.

Nonetheless, Hermione continued her routine as though nothing was
wrong. She attended all her classes, studied, ate, read a book or
two, studied, slept, studied some more, and generally behaved as
she always did.

Her friends were the ones whose behaviour had changed. Mindful
of Will's warning, they took turns staying at her side during the day.
Harry and Ron occasionally used the Invisibility Cloak to watch over
her at night if they thought her day hadn't gone well. Ginny dutifully
shadowed Hermione to places where the boys obviously couldn't
follow--the lavatory, for instance. It was a tiring schedule, but all
that was needed was the memory of the scratches on Hermione's
face to bolster their resolve if it started to flag.

They tried to be discreet. It wouldn't do for her to suspect the
true reason for their surveillance. But one night after dinner, when
Hermione and Ginny had joined the three boys for a quiet hour of
studying, Hermione set her book down and casually said:

"I know why you're doing this."

Harry looked up from the chess game that he was currently losing to
Ron. "Doing what?"

"Keeping me company. Or following me around, whichever's closer."

Ginny made a pained face. "We're your friends. Don't you want us
around?"

Hermione frowned at her. "Oh, I do. But you're not here because
you want to be."

Neville, sitting on the floor next to his bed, dipped the nib of his
battered refillable quill in the inkpot that sat nearby. "Will said
that it's for your own protection."

"So don't be silly," Ron said, nudging his bishop to one side.

"But why me?" Hermione said peevishly. She got up and started
to wander aimlessly around the room. "Harry's the one who needs
someone watching his back all the time...not me. Not me."

"You've always watched over us," said Neville, removing the quill
from the ink. "It's time we did the same for you."

Hermione whirled round, glaring down at him.

"Oh, really?" she snapped. "Well, if you think you owe me anything
then you can all get out of here and find something better to do."

Neville bit his lower lip. Two or three drops of ink fell from the tip
of his nib and splashed on the floor.

"That's not it at all!" Harry protested.

Hermione laughed bitterly. "Well, I'm positive that there are far
better things you could be doing. Our Transfiguration homework,
for starters. It's due in two days...or have you forgotten?"

Exasperated, Ron pushed the chess board to one side and turned to
face Hermione. "Listen, we're only trying to--"

"Honestly, you're all sitting around here looking at me like I'm some
Howler that's just waiting to go off." Her eyes darted round the room.

"Hermione, please."

"It's not pity, is it?" Her voice rose hysterically. "I won't stand
for pity!"

"We're worried, all right?" Ron exploded. "For the last couple of
days you haven't been acting like your...." Finding that statement
rather inaccurate, he switched to another argument. "How do you
know that this isn't the Dark trying to get at you?"

Harry nodded eagerly. "Don't you remember? Will said that it'll
happen in the way you least suspect it...it likes to play on your fears."

"See?" Ron said pointedly.

Hermione stared at him for a moment, then slowly shook her head,
back and forth. A sweet smile played across her lips.

"I swear, Ron..." she whispered. "I swear. For someone so smart,
you can be so thick sometimes."

Suddenly, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the little piece
of quartz. She held it up in front of them, displayed where they all
could see it.

"This isn't the Dark." The sweet smile was still there, but her eyes
were as hard as the stone she held in her hand. "This isn't Voldemort,
or the Death Eaters, or anything like that. This is someone taking
something that's mine. Mine. I'm not going to go to pieces just
because some little girl thinks that she can make a fool of Hermione
Granger."

The smile vanished. "And now, if you'll pardon me, I'm going to go
to the lavatory. Alone."

Without bothering to collect her textbooks and notes, she stormed
out of the room. She slammed the door on her way out.

An uneasy silence settled over the room.

"Are we happy for her or are we scared?" asked Ron.

"Scared," Neville said.

"Scared," Ginny said.

"Definitely scared," Harry said.

Neville leaned over, using the edge of his sleeve to mop up the spilt
ink. "How do we explain this to Will?"

Harry tilted his head back to stretch a crick in his neck, and noticed
that the curtains of his bed were still swaying slightly, affected by the
violence with which Hermione had left the room.

"I don't think we'll have to," he muttered.

Ron pulled the chess board toward him and studied it for a few seconds.

"So," he said, "I suppose a general, all-encompassing 'I told you so'
would be a pretty bad idea right about now?"

Three sets of eyes narrowed.

"Bad idea."

"Bad idea."

"A very bad idea."

Ron sighed, and took Harry's last rook. "Thought so."

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Gramarye
gramarye@postmaster.co.uk
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May 31st, 2002