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The atmosphere in the Gryffindor changing room was tense. The first Quidditch match of the season was about to begin, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, and the team had assembled to hear some words of inspiration from their captain.

Sadly, the desired inspiration was somewhat lacking.

"Well," Katie said, "This is it."

As the next most senior player on the team, after Harry, the position as Quidditch Captain had fallen upon Katie Bell's slender shoulders.

Harry, though having refused the captaincy, had resumed his position as Seeker and was eagerly awaiting the change to play. He had been stuck on the ground for far too long, following the ban former Professor Umbridge had imposed.

"Gee, Katie," he said dryly, "very rousing speech that."

"I'm not very good at Divination, Harry," Katie replied, "so channelling Oliver Wood is a task best left for Ron over there."

"Bloody hell," cursed Ron unhappily. He crossed his arms and scowled, "Does the whole school know about Trelawney's obsession with my grisly demises?"

"Yep," Ginny happily confirmed. With Harry back on the team as the Seeker, the youngest Weasley had tried out for one of the two vacant Chaser Positions (left open by Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet, who had graduated the previous year). She grinned broadly at Ron and demanded, "So, big brother, give us a speech."

"What? Me?" asked Ron, disbelievingly.

"Come on, old friend! Speech!" urged Harry.

Ginny nodded in agreement and started to chant, "Speech!"

Within moments the entire team, excluding Ron, had joined in.

"All right! All right!" shouted Ron, throwing his arms into the air as he rose from where he had been sitting between the two Beaters, Sloper and Kirke. "I'll give a speech! Just give me a moment!"

"Don't take too long, Ron, the match'll be starting any minute now," Katie cautioned, throwing an appraising eye towards the door leading outside.

"I know!"

"It's just that I don't want to be late for my first match as captain."

"I don't think Professor McGonagall would like it either," observed Harry wryly.

After several moments of silence Ginny asked, "Well?"

Ron glared at her and snapped, "I'm thinking!"

He began to stomp back and forth the length of the changing room, in a manner much the same as Harry tended to do when he was thinking of how to say something.

"You know," said Ginny, leaning close to Harry, "he looks a bit like you; pacing like that."

"He does have the form down nicely," Harry agreed readily.

Apparently Ron overheard them, because he stopped pacing a moment later and turned to face the team, who were watching him with both amusement and anticipation.

"All right, I have it!" he declared.

"Finally."

"It's about time."

"What took you so long?"

Everyone burst into laughter, save Ron, who looked distinctly displeased. His face flushed to a shade not unlike a sun-ripened tomato as he glared at his team-mates and shouted, "CUT THAT OUT!"

Slowly some amount of calm returned to the team as they settled down to listen to what Ron had to say.

"Okay, here it goes." Ron paused to considered them, obviously suspicious that they would interrupt again. After seeing that all attention was on him, he began. "We're the Gryffindor team. Best in the school," he said with pride. "We've kept that Quidditch Trophy in McGonagall's cabinet for three years. This'll be our fourth. Nobody would like to see it out of our hands more than the Slytherins, so we'll just have to make damn sure they don't get a chance to do it!"

"Well, boys and girls," asked Katie once Ron had finished. "What d'you think?"

"Better than your speech, certainly," noted Ginny.

"Not quite as fanatical as one of Wood's though," commented Harry, the only member of the team apart from Katie who had played with the somewhat eccentric Keeper.

"I'd give it six out of ten," said Sloper, giving Ron a thumbs up.

Phoebe Carmichael, a third year witch and the team's newest Chaser, disagree. "Five."

Ron huffed in disgust before sighing with defeat. "Ah, bugger it!" he groaned, throwing his arms into the air, "Let's just get out there and kill the slimy bastards!"

"Now that's good motivation," said Harry.

"Much better," confirmed Katie.

"He's improving," agreed Ginny.

"I hate you. All of you," Ron muttered. "You know that, right?"

Harry laughed and, shouldering his Firebolt, clapped his red-haired friend on the back as they filed out of the changing room and to the Quidditch pitch. "Yeah, and we love you for it, old friend."

Ron sighed and shook his head. "Great."

The team lined up in preparation for the walk onto the pitch, where they could see Madam Hooch waiting for them. The new announcer, replacing Lee Jordan, was working the crowd and would soon be announcing the teams.

"Well," said Katie expectantly. "This is it."

-oOo-

The match was not proceeding according to plan. Circling high above the pitch, keeping a constant look out for the elusive Golden Snitch, Harry found himself biting back curses at a rate that would have rivalled Ron's colourful language any day of the week.

The Slytherins were being brutal to a point where Harry was starting to worry for the safety of his team-mates, who were down in the thick of things. Their tactics seemed to be one of trying to beat the Gryffindors into pulp and thus win the game by default. Thus far they had not succeeded, but it had gotten close at times.

Harry's eyes snapped towards an approaching blur in his peripheral vision, around the frames of his new glasses. Up till now, the Slytherins had been ignoring him for the most part. The occasional Bludger would make a token pass in his general direction, but nothing beyond that.

Father's GM fields had already snapped online, prepared to block any attempt on his life, when Harry realized that it was his captain, flying up to speak with him.

"They're playing rough," Katie gasped as she drew alongside him, a dribble of blood trailing from the corner of her mouth.

"Except Malfoy," Harry amended. "He hasn't come anywhere near me."

While the other players on the Slytherin team had been paying Harry only scant attention, Malfoy had been ignoring him completely since the start of the game. Indeed, he had been more or less avoiding Harry entirely since the start of term.

The last time they had been in the same room together, discounting meals in the Great Hall, had been when Harry had sat in on Dumbledore's Potions lesson, on Halloween. Even then, they had not exchanged so much as a glance. This was starting to worry Harry a bit, since he did not recall Malfoy being so unobtrusive the first time round.

"You better catch the Snitch soon, Harry," urged Katie, wiping her mouth, "before someone gets hurt."

"Katie! Look out!" came a frantic shout from Sloper.

A Bludger shot right at the seventh-year witch, her hovering by Harry making her an easy target. Katie only just managed to dodge the ball, which passed close enough to brush against her Quidditch robes.

"Shit!" she spat, regaining control of her broom once the Bludger was gone.

"That was close," agreed Harry.

"Hurry, Harry, and catch that Snitch."

Katie flew down to rejoin the other Chasers, Ginny and Phoebe, who were struggling to hold their own against the Slytherin Chasers without her.

As he resumed his circuit of the pitch, he heard Ginny call, "We can't get through their defence."

Deciding to stick close to the three girls, just in case they needed someone to cover for them, he listened as they ducked and weaved their way towards their opponent's goal posts.

"It's not only the Bludgers we have to watch out for," said Phoebe, catching the Quaffle as Ginny tossed it to her, "it's their Chasers as well!"

Before the young witch could hope to react, her words were underscored as one of the Slytherin Chasers rammed into her with his shoulder. Phoebe had to release her hold on the Quaffle to grab her broom with both hands, lest she be knocked off clean off of it. One of the other Slytherins swept underneath her and captured the Quaffle as it fell.

Katie reared her broom back and pivoted to begin pursuit.

"We have to do something!"

"We're trying!" shouted Ginny, also chasing back into Gryffindor territory.

"Well, try harder!"

"Dammit, we can't!" Ginny snapped angry, corkscrewing as a Bludger came within a foot of taking her head off. Righting her broom she explained, "I've tried everything in the book, everything out the book and even a couple of things I made up on the spot."

Kirke and Sloper managed to come to the rescue though, fortunately before the Slytherins could take a shot at the goals. Shouldering one of the opposition aside, Katie grabbed the Quaffle and swung back towards the other side of the pitch in a single, fluid motion.

"It's up to Harry then," Katie said as she and Ginny regrouped with Phoebe and began another assault on the Slytherin Keeper. "We'll just have to hang on long enough for him to find the Snitch."

She hurriedly passed the Quaffle to Ginny, just as one of the Slytherin Chasers caught up with her and tried to slam his outstretched elbow into the back of her head.

Phoebe, who was shadowing Ginny, shouted in reply, "That could take ages!"

"Not for Harry!" insisted Ginny. She pressed her broom forwards and urged, "Come on!"

Harry, being higher up in the air and thus afforded a better overview of the pitch, saw the incoming Bludger before anyone else. Clutching his Firebolt tightly with both hands, he shouted a warning. "Ginny, peel left!"

Ginny reacted without hesitation and immediately swung left. Unfortunately she was not fast enough and the Bludger hit the tail of her broom, sending her into a wild spin, wherein she lost hold of the Quaffle.

Pushing his broom as fast as it could go without entering a dive, Harry flew down to where Ginny was struggling for control and helped steady her. Grabbing her by the shoulder, he watched as Katie and Phoebe gave chase to the Slytherins, who had taken the opportunity to steal the Quaffle away from the Gryffindors.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Ginny assured him, a bit breathlessly. She glanced down the pitch, where the Slytherins were rapidly approaching the Gryffindor goals. "Damn, they're really playing for keeps this time, aren't they?"

"Yeah."

"Oh God, Ron!"

Harry turned to look where Ginny was pointing, her expression frozen in horrified anticipation. He could feel the blood leave his face as the situation became apparent. The Slytherin team, Chasers and Beaters, were all charging towards the goals, ignoring Katie, Phoebe, Kirke and Sloper entirely.

Cupping his hands around his mouth, Harry bellowed, "Ron! Get out of there!"

"No!" argued Ron, twisting to avoid a Bludger, but not leaving the three hoops open for an instant.

"Dammit, Ron, it's not worth it!" shouted Katie.

It was too late, however, as the Chaser with the Quaffle wound up and hurled the ball with everything he had. It was a hard and fast throw, aimed directly at Ron's unprotected face.

Not expecting shut a blatant attack against him, Ron failed to react in time. The Quaffle slammed into his face with a loud crack that could be heard halfway down the pitch where Harry and Ginny were floating on their brooms. His head snapped back like a whip and Ron dropped from his broom, like a puppet with its strings cut. He hit the ground below with several more cracks of breaking bone.

"Ron!"

The Slytherins, having caught the Quaffle on the rebound off Ron's face, quickly took the opportunity to toss the ball through the centre hoop.

"Shit!" cursed Katie loudly. She waved to her team, "Come on!"

The Gryffindors abandoned the match and rushed to where Ron had fallen. Harry was vaguely aware of hearing Madam Hooch calling for a time out, but his attention was focused on his friend's battered form.

Ginny, somehow out pacing Harry in spite of him having a Firebolt, dismounted at a dead run and skidding to her knees at Ron's side. "Ron! Ron!"

"He's out cold, but still breathing," Katie reassured her, kneeling opposite her.

"Step back a moment," Harry ordered as he arrived.

He waited for his team-mates to move aside, although Ginny did not, and then directed Father to utilize its GM fields in a manner not unlike a Muggle MRI scan.

"Both his legs are broken and several ribs. Nose and cheekbone as well," he reported as the Gatekeeper projected an image of Ron's skeleton over Harry's vision. He frowned as Father highlighted several areas. "Dislocated left shoulder. No breaks in either arm though. Odd."

"Will he be all right?" asked Ginny anxiously.

"Once we get him to Madam Pomfrey," he told her.

The Gryffindor team, who had crowded in again, backed away as Madam Hooch set down nearby. The Quidditch and Flying Instructor strode purposefully to where Ron was laying and asked, "How bad is it?"

"Bad," Harry answered, giving her a quick rundown of Ron's injuries. He turned to glare at the Slytherin team, which had landed near their goal posts and could clearly be seen gloating. His eyes narrowed and he advised, "You'd better call for some stretchers."

"Stretchers?" Hooch repeated. "But it's only Mister Weasley that's hurt."

"Not for long."

"Mister Potter!"

"Do we get a penalty for this?" asked Katie, now also glaring at the Slytherins.

Hooch shook her head and said, "No, I'm afraid not."

"What?!" exclaimed Ginny, rising to her feet and glaring at the professor. She gestured at Ron and asked, "Do you see what those bastards did to my brother?!"

"Do not forget who you're talking to, Miss Weasley," Hooch cautioned. "I am a professor!"

"Then do something about this!"

"The most I can do is issue a warning against the player responsible," explained Hooch patiently. She shook her head and said, "Otherwise, it was within the bound of the game's legality."

"Well then, we're going to have to test those bounds," replied Ginny frostily. She turned to the other Gryffindors, her eyes almost as cold as Harry's, and asked, "Aren't we chaps?"

-oOo-

Consciousness slowly returned to Ron, something that he did not find pleasant. There was a heavy ache behind his eyes and his neck felt like steel rods had been inserted into it. Moaning softly in discomfort, he began to count his body parts, just be make sure that they were all there.

His fingers and toes wiggled convincingly, though his legs were throbbing dully and his left shoulder felt rather numb. Wincing, he tried opening his eyes to find out where he was laying. He could hear soft, murmured voices, but could make out nothing distinct. Slowly things began to clear.

"He's waking up."

"Ron? Are you okay?"

"Ron?"

Looking around, and feeling a bit groggy while doing so, Ron could blearily see that he was surrounded by his friends and the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Trying to remember what happened, he found himself drawing a blank at first, but slowly it began to come back to him.

Now able to remember the Quaffle impacting his nose, Ron asked, "I'm alive?"

"No, actually," replied Harry seriously. He looked gravely at the now wide awake redhead and intoned, "Welcome to the afterlife, old friend. I hope it's to your liking."

Ron spent several seconds staring up at Harry in complete incomprehension. Blinking in an attempt to clear out the cobwebs clogging up his brain, he took another look around, this time assessing his surroundings.

"Why does the hereafter look like the Hospital Wing?" he asked in puzzlement.

"Probably because it is the Hospital Wing, you twit," answered Hermione dryly.

Again, thanks to the cobwebs, it took several seconds for this to sink in. Ron stared at Hermione and then began to look from her to Harry and back again. Finally it registered that his comrades on the Quidditch team where laughing themselves silly and his friends were doing likewise.

Ginny, in a bout of sisterly concern, was laughing so hard that tears streamed down her face.

Beginning to understand that he was the butt of a joke, Ron settled for glaring unhappily at them all. He would have sat up properly and crossed his arms, to give the proper effect, but his various limbs protested the action before he could even fully form the thought.

"How d'you feel?" Hermione asked once the laughter had died down.

"I think my bruises have bruises," he replied with a groan.

"You took quite a tumble from your broom, mate," Neville told him seriously. "Bruises are the least of your worries."

"Wha? Neville? Why're you all red?" Ron blinked several times to clear his watery and still slightly unfocused eyes. The sight which greeted him once the world returned to proper focus, was a surprising one. "Quidditch robes?"

A closer look revealed that Neville was indeed wearing Gryffindor red Quidditch robes, albeit rather badly fitting one. He was propped up with an old Cleansweep Seven and sported a large bruise, already fading to pale blues, purples and yellows, down the right side of his face.

Perhaps sensing that an explanation was needed, Katie offered, "Neville came on when you were taken off."

"You made Neville play Keeper?"

"Beater, actually," Neville corrected with a slight blush.

"I took over as Keeper," elaborated Sloper. "Neville replaced me."

"Ah."

Ron now took a proper look around at the rest of his team. What he found was an assortment of injuries that would be more fitting as the result of a brawl in the local pub than a bit of sports rough and tumble.

Katie had a split lip, Sloper had a black eye, Phoebe's right arm was in a sling and Ginny was standing in place cautiously, as if it hurt too much to move fully. Only Harry seemed reasonably unaffected, though his robes had several grassy streaks, evidence of a long slide down the pitch.

"So, how are you Ron?" Hermione asked again. "Besides your bruised bruises."

"He's obviously in either a great deal of pain," said Luna, before Ron could reply, "or still delirious from the concussion he sustained."

"Why do you say that?" asked Hermione.

Luna looked pointedly at Ron and said, "He hasn't asked who won yet."

Ginny nodded in thoughtful agreement and said, "She does have a point."

"Always."

Ron, still not fully coherent, asked, "So? Who won?"

"What d'you expect?" asked Ginny, as if it were a stupid question. "We did, of course!"

"Two hundred to sixty," added Katie with no small amount of satisfaction.

"That knock to the head must've been worse than we thought," mused Sloper, rubbing tenderly at his bruised eye. "Asking stupid questions like that."

"Oh shut up, my head hurts."

"That's what happens when you think too hard, Ronald," countered Luna.

"Ugh."

"So eloquently put."

Ron glared up at Luna, but could not think of a suitable retort. His temples were beginning to throb and he was feeling a tad unsteady on his feet. As he was currently still lying prone on a hospital bed, this worried him slightly.

Slumping back against the pillow propping his head up and closing his eyes, so that everyone would stop swaying back and forth like that, he asked, "When's Madam Pomfrey letting me out of here?"

"Not for a couple of days, I'm afraid," supplied Hermione with sympathy in her voice. "Monday morning at the earliest."

"Monday?" Ron opened his eyes and stared incredulously at her. "You're joking!"

"No, I'm not, Mister Weasley," insisted Madam Pomfrey, pushing her way through the small group crowded around Ron's bed. She looked sternly at him and ordered, "You are staying in that bed, and nowhere else, until Monday."

"Why? I'm fine!" he protested, weakly pushing himself up onto his elbows.

"You are most certainly not 'fine', young man," Madam Pomfrey retorting, clearly able to see how his arms were quivering under the strain of holding himself up.

"Y'know," said Harry blissfully, "I rather like this."

"Like what?" asked Neville.

Harry pointed at Madam Pomfrey and said, "The fact that I'm not the one she's scolding for a change."

Madam Pomfrey gave Harry a jaundiced look and stated in an aggrieved tone, "Yes, well, I don't doubt, Mister Potter, that I'll be seeing you before the year is out."

"Not if I can help it," Harry returned with a grumble.

"Now, Mister Weasley," said Madam Pomfrey, turning her attention back to Ron. She held up a corked flask and handed it to him. Seeing that Ron was not doing anything with it, she prompted, "All in one go, please."

"What is it?" asked Ron dubiously, eyeing the steaming liquid with some suspicion.

"Skele-Gro."

Everyone winced at that, especially Harry, who had some experience with this particular potion.

Ron hastily set the flask on the bedside table and protested, "I'm not that badly off!"

"Oh, yes, you are," insisted Madam Pomfrey. To emphasise her point, she leaned back and gave a sharp poke to Ron's right leg, eliciting a yelp of pain from the bedridden young wizard.

"Gah!"

"Now drink up, there's a good lad."

Her advice, and medicine, dispensed, Madam Pomfrey departed as swiftly as she had arrived, leaving the others to crowd close around Ron's bed again.

Katie patted Ron's shoulder sympathetically and said, "That looked like it hurt."

"It did!" Ron confirmed. He groaned and collapsed back against his pillows, his arms and injured shoulder too tired to hold him up any longer. Throwing an arm over his eyes, an action that caused his head to throb and his nose to punctuate that pain with sharp jolts, he groaned, "Ooooooh, I wish I was dead."

"You nearly were," Ginny informed him seriously.

"Come on, Ronald, drink up. It'll make you feel better," said Luna.

"Nonsense. It's not that bad," Ron insisted. He struggled for a moment to sit up properly and eventually managed to raise himself into something that passed for an upright position. "See? I'm feeling better already."

"Oh? So it doesn't hurt here anymore?" asked Hermione, giving Ron's leg a jab in the same spot Madam Pomfrey had poked only a minute ago. This, quite naturally, elicited another yelp of pain.

"Gah!"

"Can I have a go too?" asked Luna.

"Merlin's bleeding beard, no!" protested Ron, who had fallen prone on the bed in agony. His leg was throbbing to the beat of his heart and it was all he could do not to cry from the pain. "I don't want anyone else to--"

Luna, however, ignored his objection and reached over to prod his right leg, once again in the exact same spot, but before Ron could even begin to recover from the last assault.

"Gaaouch!!" he wailed.

"Luna! Don't touch!" admonished Ginny sternly.

"Don't touch what?"

"That!" Ginny declared, making the unfortunate mistake of pointing out the affected region by jabbing her finger into it with more than enough force to cause Ron to writhe about and howl in pain.

"Yeeeouch!!"

"Easy girls," cautioned Katie. She obviously found the situation amusing, Ron could tell, if the grin on her face were any indication. "Ron's legs aren't a Roman Road, you know."

Ron lay back, gasping for breath and blinking in an attempt to clear his vision. There were a number of dark spots dancing around the edges which were beginning to worry him almost as much as the thought of someone else attacking his leg.

"All right! All right! I give in!" he shouted, something he immediately regretted because it made his entire head feel as if it were in the process of exploding. "I'll drink the damned potion..."

"Here you go."

Harry, having anticipated Ron's capitulation, handed him the flask of Skele-Gro.

Ron accepted it reluctantly. "Thanks."

"One big gulp, old friend," Harry told him. "You don't want to draw this out."

"It's already drawn out far too bloody much in my opinion," Ron grumbled as he uncorked the flask and took a preliminary whiff of the potion within. Gritting his teeth and hoping that it was not as bad as Harry had made it out to be, during their second year, Ron brought the flask to his lips and threw back his head. He immediately dropped the flash and began coughing violently. "Bloody hell! Dammit!"

"At least it's over now, Ron," appeased Hermione as she softly patted his knee, which fortunately did not hurt like the rest of his leg did.

"Hello chaps!"

Ron turned his head to stare in abject horror and resignation at the new arrivals. His eyes might have been swimming with tears, but he could still recognise these two particular brothers. Apparently Fred and George had decided to pay him a visit.

"Oh gods, take me now," he groaned.

"Ronnikins!" cried George, rushing over to Ron's bedside.

"How's our favourite baby brother doing, eh?" asked Fred, shouldering his way between Kirke and Sloper to stand opposite George. As he said this, both twins clapped their hands down on Ron's legs. The result was about what you would expect.

"GGGAAAAAAAAAUUUUURRRRGGGHH!!"

-oOo-

"You did that deliberately," accused Hermione.

George looked at her, an affronted expression on his face, and asked, "Why, Hermione, dear--"

"How could you think such a thing?" interjected Fred.

"--would we do that?" finished George.

"I see no point in answering rhetorical questions," she countered.

The group of Gryffindors, including one Ravenclaw, were making their way from the Hospital Wing to the Gryffindor Tower. Fred and George were tagging along, much like Luna was, though they had already explained that they would not be staying very long.

After recovering from the twins' rather enthusiastic greeting, Ron had managed to remain conscious long enough to spend a few minutes talking to his visitors, before succumbing to the various potions already bubbling away in his system.

"I hope he'll be all right," voiced Ginny.

"He will be," Harry assured her. "Ron's a tough chap."

"I'm not so sure, Harry," said Hermione thoughtfully. She glanced back along the corridor they had just come from and remarked, "He was looking a little peaked."

"I don't think it's that bad," announced Luna gaily. "He was, after all, interested in my story about the Matter Transmorgifier, which the late Minister Fudge stole from the American Muggles' Area Fifty-One."

"That's what worries me," Hermione countered dryly. "Anyone in that state of mind must be on the brink of death."

Harry was, in a fit of mischief, about to ask Luna what exactly a Matter Transmorgifier was, when Fred and George snuck up behind him. His trip back to the tower came to a stop when the twins each grabbed hold of a shoulder and held him back as the others continued forward.

"Harry, mate--"

"--a word, if you will?"

Nodding his acquiescence, Harry drew to a halt as the twins pulled him aside. Since they had not been in front, it was several seconds before the bulk of the group noticed that the three wizards had fallen back. They too slowed to a stop and looked back to check that everything was all right.

"Harry?"

"Don't worry, Nee," Harry waved for her and the others to continue, "I'll be along in a minute."

"Yes, just a friendly chat--"

"--between business partners," agreed the twins.

Hermione looked dubious about this explanation, but accepted it. She smiled gently and told him, "Don't take too long, all right?"

Harry grinned back, "All right."

"See you later boys!" called Katie as the troop of Gryffindors resumed their course to the tower.

"We'll save you a butterbeer, Harry," said Neville.

Harry and the twins waited patiently as their friends, housemates and team-mates departed. Or at least Harry waited with some semblance of patience. The twins were literally bouncing from one foot to the other in anticipation.

Having a feeling that Fred and George had not pulled him aside to discuss the weather, frigid as it was, Harry grabbed them by the sleeves of their robes. Moving briskly but unhurriedly, he led them to a small alcove that was nearby, which he knew would afford them some degree of privacy.

"Who'd have thought; Neville, playing Quidditch," commented Fred as they walked.

"And darn nicely too," agreed George.

"'Cept for that bit where he almost took Phoebe's head off."

"You should have seen him during trials," noted Harry, thinking about the stories he had heard of how Neville had managed to accidentally break Sloper's arm, necessitating a visit to the Hospital Wing.

"We did!" Fred informed him.

"You weren't there, remember?" reminded George.

"What were you two doing there?"

Fred puffed out his chest importantly and revealed, "Katie asked for our help evaluating everyone."

George nodded sagely and explained, "We felt it was our duty--"

"As former Gryffindors," interjected Fred.

"--to lend her the benefit of our experience."

"Right," agreed Harry wryly. He now remembered that the twins had also made their way to the Gryffindor trials in the original timeline (when Harry had accepted the Captaincy).

Pulling them into the alcove, which was just big enough for the three of them to stand together with some elbowroom, he checked to make sure that they were alone. The twins made a small amount of delighted fuss and nostalgic ramblings when Harry used the Marauder's Map to see if anyone was nearby and might overhear them.

A silent query to Father confirmed that Pettigrew was currently scurrying back from the Hospital Wing to the Gryffindor dormitories. Fortunately the little rat was using a different, less frequented route than the students, and would have no chance of stumbling upon them.

"So what's up?" Harry asked as he tucked the map back into his robes.

"We haven't had a chance to see you since we delivered the rifle," said Fred.

"How is it, by the way?" asked George, eagerly curious.

"Packs a stronger kick than I remember," Harry admitted.

"Eh?"

"Since when've you used one of those before?"

Of course Harry never had used a phased plasma rifle before, at least not in this timeline. His future self, however, had several years worth of experience using one.

Unfortunately this experience did not carry over, merely the memories of having done so, which meant that while his future self could shoot a hole through the centre of a Bertie Bott's wizard card at fifty paces, Harry was lucky if he managed to hit a human sized target at the same distance.

Fortunately Father was more than able to compensate for this, utilizing its GM fields to control and aim the plasma rifle with an accuracy that was literally inhuman. Still, Harry did not like relying solely on his Gatekeeper for such matters and had made a point of practicing by himself on a regular basis.

Harry shook his head and told them, "It's a long story that I really can't tell you here and now."

The twins looked knowingly at him and nodded in understanding.

"Worried about the various eyes and ears littering the walls?" asked Fred.

"Amongst other things," he admitted.

"Then we'll just have to be circumspect in our discussion," announced George.

"I can handle that."

Fred beamed happily. "Excellent."

Clapping his hands, George began, "As I was saying--"

"As I was saying, not you," interrupted Fred.

"Right," agreed George. "Well, as George was saying--"

"I'm Fred, remember?"

"You are?" asked George, looking at Fred in confusion. "Oh, right."

"Right."

"Can I continue?"

"Sure."

"Right. Well, as stated before..." George paused to cast a suspicious glance at Fred before continuing, "we haven't had a chance to talk to you since delivering your new toy."

"So, we decided to speak with you in person to discuss what happened," finished Fred.

"What d'you mean?" asked Harry, not sure where the twins were going with this.

George sighed dramatically and began to explain, "As you might imagine, certain people--"

"Namely our illustrious leader," input Fred.

"--where less than pleased with the fact that we built it for you."

Fred nodded in agreement and elaborated, "They were also rather put out by the fact that we did not bother informing them that you had commissioned us to build it for you."

Harry could almost imagine the scene. He had known that taking delivery of the plasma rifle in the Great Hall would put the twins on the spot, but had idiotically gone ahead with it anyway. Now not only the Order knew about the weapon, but so did just about every witch and wizard on the planet.

"Yes, I'd imagine they weren't happy."

"That's putting it mildly," admitted George.

"Suffice to say, words were exchanged," continued Fred.

"A few hexes and curses were almost exchanged as well."

"At which point we were forced to tend our resignations."

This piece of news was so surprising that Harry wasn't sure that he had heard it right. He blinked several times and replayed the last few moments, just to be sure. He looked at the two redheads standing opposite him, their expressions serious ones, and intelligently asked, "What?"

George smirked and said succinctly, "We quit."

"But... why?

"To be honest," said Fred, "we prefer your Defence Association to Dumbledore's Order."

"What we're saying, Harry," explained George, "is that all you have to do is ask... and we'll do it."

"I'm... I'm touched," Harry eventually managed to say. And he truly was. He had always know that the twins would stand by him, they had done so in the past and would do so again in the future. However, he would never have expected for them to quit the Order of the Phoenix, something they had very much wanted to be a part of the previous year.

George laughed and said, "Oh, we've been saying that since the day we met you."

Fred speculated thoughtfully, "Which is probably why we get along so well with you."

"How reassuring."

"So, is there anything you need us to do?" asked George.

"Yeah," nodded Fred, "the shop isn't so busy, now that school's started, that we can't work on any projects you might decide to send our way."

"Thanks guys," Harry told them earnestly, "this means a lot to me."

"So?"

Harry chewed on his bottom lip as a dozen ideas flitted through his mind. There were so many possibilities that he could pursue with the twins' help, he simply did not know where to begin. He explained this, "I have a few things I think you can help me with, but I'll need a few days to sort out exactly what."

The twins nodded in acceptance and George informed him, "We'll be waiting."

"I'll definitely be wanting more examples of your previous commission," he said, referring to the plasma rifle.

"Can do," confirmed Fred.

"Now that we've done it once before, it'll be easy."

"We could probably turn out one a day, if we had the materials."

"Good," acknowledged Harry, pleased to know that he would be able to bolster his arsenal in a relatively short amount of time. A thought occurred to him and he asked, "How much do I owe you for it, by the way?"

To his surprise the twins did not answer immediately. Instead they exchanged a look and then glowered unhappily at him, as if he had just done something to upset them.

"Nothing."

"What?"

"You don't have to pay us, Harry," explained Fred.

"But--"

"No buts!" Fred interrupted, a tad heatedly.

"This is important stuff, mate," said George.

"Beyond money," agreed Fred.

"Besides," George carried on in a lighter tone, "We already owe you."

"I can't accept it for free," Harry protested weakly.

"You'll have to--" insisted George.

"--because we won't accept any of your money," finished Fred. To emphasise their words and show that they were serious about this, they both crossed their arms and gave Harry a look that warned him against arguing.

"How about a compromise?" Harry suggested after thinking it through for a minute. He paused and, when they did not immediately protest, continued, "I supply the raw materials and you assemble whatever I want from them."

Fred glanced at George and said, "That sounds--"

George nodded and agreed, "--about right."

"We'll give you a list of what we need--" said Fred, turning to look at Harry.

"--once you tell us how many examples you need," finished George.

Feeling relieved that his proposition had been so readily accepted, Harry stuck out his hand to affirm the deal. He shook hands with Fred first, followed by George. A moment later he watched with bemusement as, for some strange reason, the twins shook hands with each other as well.

Checking the time on his wristwatch, Harry saw that it was starting to get late. He and the others had missed lunch, visiting Ron in the Hospital Wing, and if he wanted a chance to eat some snacks at the party, to hold off his hunger until dinner, he had best get to the tower sooner rather than later.

"I better get back to the common room," he said, indicating the time.

"Give everyone our best," Fred told him.

"In fact, take these with you," said George, reaching into his robes. He pulled out a small bundle of... something, and handed it to Harry. "I guarantee they'll liven things up a bit."

Harry accepted the small package and eyed it dubiously. It looked relatively harmless, though this held true for most of Fred and George's prank items.

"Dare I ask?"

"Better not," said George.

"What do they do?" he asked regardless.

"Come now, Harry," chided Fred, wagging a finger at him. "That'll ruin the surprise."

"Just know that it'll be hilarious," George assured him.

"Unless anyone suddenly sprouts antenna or extra limbs," admitted Fred.

"Then you'll know something went wrong."

"That's reassuring," Harry noted sarcastically, but pocketed the bundle any way. He stepped out of the alcove, Fred and George following close behind, when he remembered something that he had noticed earlier. He turned back to the twins, who were heading the other direction, and called, "Hey! You do realise, don't you, that you forgot to shave this morning?"

The twins stopped and looked back at him. They exchanged a conspiratorial look and then made a point of stroking their stubbly upper lips.

"Oh, it's much more than that, Harry," declared Fred.

"Much, much more," agreed George with authority.

"We are going to do something--"

"--that will change our lives."

"We have decided to grow--"

"--moustaches!"

There was a brief moment of silence as Harry stared at them both, utterly dumbfounded. This was something so utterly unexpected that he could do nothing else. It was not just the idea of Fred and George growing moustaches - he knew that their brother Charlie would be growing a full beard the next year.

No, it was the mental image that had instantly formed in his mind's eye. For some reason, the picture of Fred and George with massive, flaming red handlebar moustaches that wiggled and jiggled as they spoke, seemed to leave Harry standing in place, his jaw hanging open slightly.

This thought was immediately followed by the mental image of Molly Weasley's expression if Fred and George ever sauntered into the Burrow, moustaches twitching as they faced down their mother. Of course, such an action would cause those same moustaches to be on the receiving end of Molly's wand and a couple of Shearing and Shaving Charms.

Finally he gathered his wits and recovered enough to say, "That's new."

-oOo-

Voldemort did not move when Lucius Malfoy quietly entered the audience chamber, though his glowing red eyes did glide away from the spectacle before him to glance at the new arrival.

"Crucio!"

Turning his gaze away from Lucius, Voldemort resumed watching as his most faithful servant, Bellatrix Lestrange, tortured a group of four Muggles. This particular group were fishermen who had the misfortune of straying too close to Voldemort's island hideaway and had been subsequently captured.

"My lord," acknowledged Lucius, having approached to a respectful distance from where Voldemort was standing. He bowed low at the waist before kneeling and said, "You summoned me."

"That I did, Lucius," Voldemort agreed. "That I did."

Bellatrix released the curse from the Muggle she had been torturing, a middle-aged man in need of a shave and a haircut. She moved on to another, huddled next to him, and practically sang, "Crucio!"

The Muggle, this one younger and clean shaven, twisted and writhed on the stone floor. His high-pitched cries, hoarse from having been subjected to the Cruciatus Curse several times already, reverberated off the walls and ceiling, filling the entire room.

"Truly a wondrous sound, is it not, Lucius?" asked Voldemort, closing his eyes and allowing the screaming to play across his ears as if he were listening to fine music. He tilted his head and swayed it back and forth in time to the Muggle's shrieks. His eyes still closed, he ordered, "Rise."

"Yes, my lord," Lucius replied.

"I sometimes think I could listen to the wails of these Muggles all day," Voldemort admitted, hearing that Lucius had done as commanded of him, and risen to his feet.

"Perhaps, my lord," Lucius readily agreed, "though I think it would be more pleasurable causing their wails than merely listening to them."

Voldemort considered for a moment and then acknowledged, "True." The hoarse screams tapered off as Bellatrix released the Muggle in preparation of moving onto the next. "Enough, my faithful Belladonna," he ordered, raising a hand to stop her. He opened his eyes and saw that she was waiting, poised a second from casting the curse. "Lucius and I have business to discuss, and trying to do so over the screams of these Muggles is bothersome."

Bellatrix bowed her head and lowered her wand. "As you wish, my lord." The Muggle that would have been her victim collapsed against his fellows, tears of relief streaming down his face. Bellatrix regarded his whimpering form with disgust and asked, "Shall I return them to the prison cells?"

"You misunderstand, Bellatrix," corrected Voldemort, a sly smile stretching his thin lips. "My business with Lucius is not cause enough for you to stop entirely. Please, continue as you were, only not so loudly."

"Do you still wish to hear their screams, my lord?" asked Bellatrix, now sporting a matching smile.

All four Muggles stiffened, understanding his meaning, and began to beg for mercy. Voldemort arched an eyebrow at them, wondering how they could believe that they would receive such a thing. He nodded to Bellatrix and said, "Of course."

Bellatrix nodded and said, "Thank you, my lord," before turning to the Muggle she had been interrupted from tending to. She raised her wand and muttered, "Bracheus Constras."

This, Voldemort knew, was a charm that restricted the movements of a person's larynx. They could still speak, even scream, but at nothing more than the barest of whispers.

"Now, where was I?" asked Bellatrix, tapping the tip of her wand thoughtfully against the sharp point of her chin. She smiled, acting the part beautifully, and crowed, "Oh, yes... Crucio!"

"Much better," concluded Voldemort as he and Lucius watched. The Muggle's screams were muffled, but easily discernable as he bucked and thrashed under the Cruciatus Curse's effects. Satisfied that things would continue to progress in a manner he prescribed, the dark lorded turned to his companion and said, "Now, Lucius, the reason I summoned you."

"You will is my own, my lord," Lucius responded.

"Of course it is."

Voldemort retreated to the back of the room and seated himself on his 'throne'. In truth it was not much more than an ornately decorated cherry wood and gold chair, but Voldemort jokingly referred to it as a throne. Of course, he never did mention this out loud, as it was for his own amusement that he thought of it so.

"I have decided to more forward with our plans to teach Potter a lesson," he announced. "The reports given by your son, and the other children, seem to show that the boy has been working on some sort of weapon to use against us."

Lucius nodded in acceptance, the only outward sign that he had heard Voldemort's words. The dark lord, however, could see the sudden pulse of eagerness that surged through his Death Eater's magic.

He leaned back in his chair, propping his right elbow on the armrest, and reached up to trace his fingers over his lips. Quietly, but projecting his voice so that Lucius would have no difficulty hearing him (Voldemort hated having to repeat himself) he mused, "It would also appear that he and Dumbledore are beginning to mend their relationship."

This piece of news had been reported by the Slytherin students in the sixth-year Advanced Potions class. Apparently Potter had attended one of the classes Dumbledore had taught, during the period that Snape had been suspended by the school board of governors. It was the first time this school year that Potter had been seen and heard speaking to the headmaster in a civil manner.

"This I cannot permit," Voldemort determined, a frown marring his smooth features. More to himself than to Lucius, he muttered, "Together they are strong enough to cause me difficulty. Separate, however, they can do little to hinder me."

A sharp cry, muted as it was, drew his attention to Bellatrix and the Muggles. She had apparently grown tired of using the Cruciatus Curse and had moved onto something else. His sharp eyes picked out a pattern of almost invisible streaks of red on the screaming Muggle's face. These were the telltale marks caused by the rather nasty Cutting Curse that Bellatrix had just cast, slicing into the man's body a hundred times in less than a second.

Voldemort nodded his appreciation and turned back to Lucius, saying, "I must do more than simply break the ties between them." He clutched his right hand into a fist, which he held before him, and insisted, "I must break his will as well."

"The mudblood girl. Granger," said Lucius.

"Yes," Voldemort admitted. He eyed the other wizard approvingly and said, "I am pleased to see that you are able to anticipate my needs."

"I live to serve, my lord."

This needed no reply, as Voldemort felt it to be somewhat self-evident. He merely inclined his head, a regal motion that he thought complimented the description of his chair as a throne. "How long until you can be ready?" he asked.

"Everything is already in place, my lord," Lucius confidently replied. "You have but to give the order."

"Impressive, Lucius, most impressive."

"Thank you, my lord."

A flare of yellow, followed by a pleasant crackling sound, caused Voldemort to glance once again to where Bellatrix was playing. She had, it seemed, set fire to one of the Muggle's legs.

"Tell me what you have planned," he commanded, watching with amusement as the burning Muggle screamed his throat raw and bloody. The magical restraints holding him and the other Muggles in place, prevented him from trying to put the fire out.

"Yes, my lord," Lucius began, keeping his gaze firmly on Voldemort and not allowing his attention to stray. "Naturally the first phase involves the mudblood's abduction. This will prove to be almost too easy."

"Indeed? How so?"

"Draco has observed that she stops by the school library first thing every Monday morning to return whatever books she has taken out over the weekend," Lucius explained.

By now the smell of burning flesh, overpowering that of burnt cloth, was beginning to fill the air. Voldemort noted, abstractly, that it was making him hungry.

Lucius, continuing to ignored Bellatrix's work, laid out the rest of his plans. "Once she is in our hands, we will use her in a manner fitting her lack of station. The entire thing will be recorded on memory crystals, as well as photographed, all of which will then be sent to Potter as a... souvenir of the occasion.

"Yes," Voldemort nodded in approval.

"We will keep her captive for however long you deem necessary, my lord," Lucius said, "using her in the same manner on a regular basis, each time sending Potter the memory crystals and photographs."

"I think it best we hold her for some time," Voldemort decided after a short moment of consideration, "the better to draw out Potter's suffering. And her own."

"That was my thought as well, my lord," agreed Lucius. He quickly moved on to conclude, "When the time comes, we shall begin implanting subliminal commands in her subconscious, all designed to undermine and eventually destroy her will to live. Once the final trigger is in place, we shall Portkey her back to Hogwarts, where Potter will have a chance to see first hand what happens to those that defy you."

"Excellent, I approve," said Voldemort, "Well done."

"Thank you, my lord," Lucius accepted with a bow. "You are most gracious."

"Yes, I am," he agreed.

Bellatrix had moved on from the burning Muggle, who was still on fire, and was currently casting a curse on one of the others that caused muscle after muscle to cramp. She seemed to be working from the fingers of his left hand inwards. The subject of her attentions was arched up off the floor, his face contorted with anguish.

"I grow tired of this, Bellatrix," Voldemort commented, "finish it."

"Yes, my lord."

"Lucius."

There was a flash of green light from across the room as Bellatrix cast the first Killing Curse.

"My lord."

A second flash quickly followed the second.

"You may proceed as you see fit," Voldemort told his waiting servant. As he finished speaking Bellatrix cast the third Killing Curse, its green light flickering over the cold grey stone of the audience chamber.

"Yes, my lord," Lucius accepted.

"Be sure to make the experience as painful as possible."

"Yes, my lord!"

Voldemort glanced past Lucius just in time to see Bellatrix kill the last Muggle, the one whose legs she had set on fire earlier. The man was contorting violently when the curse hit, its green light enveloping him and outlining his figure for an instant before he collapsed in a limp and smouldering heap.

"You're dismissed, Lucius," he ordered.

"By your leave, my lord."

"Go."

Lucius bowed deeply and quickly made his departure, being certain not to turn his back to Voldemort the entire time. None of the dark lord's servants ever made that mistake more than once. Such a disrespectful action would have earned him a great amount of pain.

The position in front of the dark lord's faux throne was taken by Bellatrix. She knelt down before him as the doors swung closed after Lucius.

"How may I serve you further, my lord?"

The wording of her request brought back memories of how Voldemort and Bellatrix had once had a bit of a fling during the glory days of his first reign of terror. Things had been different then. She had been young and beautiful, while he had still been handsome and looked far younger than he actually was, thanks to his magicks.

Voldemort was not sure, but her husband, Randolphus, might have known about their affair. If so, then he had never said anything about it. Of course, if he had, it likely would not have changed anything, except for shortening the man's life considerably.

He considered Bellaxtrix now and realised that she was still an attractive woman. The years in Azkaban had been harsh and left their mark on her, but she had regained most of her feminine curves in the year that she had been free.

Looking down at her, practically offering herself to him, Voldemort came to a second, disturbing realisation. Since gaining this new body, he had not once felt any sexual urges. In fact, he had not felt any such thing since he had fallen at Godric's Hollow fifteen years earlier, but now that he had regained physical form, he should have regained those same desires.

"Perhaps later you may 'serve' me, my delicious Belladonna..." he whispered, reaching down to stroke his slender fingers through the sleek strands of her hair.

"Yes, my lord!" Bellatrix replied eagerly.

"But there are things I must investigate first," he told her, withdrawing his hand. The resolution to fix this flaw in his new body grew stronger at the sound of her willingness to please him so.

"Yes, my lord," she answered dutifully, but the disappointment audible in her voice.

"If anything urgent requires my attention, I shall be in the library."

Rising from his throne, Voldemort briskly strode to the doorway leading out of the audience chamber. As he walked, his heels clicking softly against the stone floor, he passed by the corpses of the four Muggles. He paused for a moment, his head inclined as he considered the bodies.

Voldemort disliked inferior creatures like Muggles. He could barely tolerate being in their presence long enough to properly punish and then kill them. Fortunately, however, he made a point that anything, or anyone, that he disliked never survived his presence for very long.

"Get rid of these... things," he ordered. "I do not want their blood staining my floor."

"By your command, My Lord."

Voldemort smiled.

"Always."

-oOo-

Sunday dawned and all the third years and up were eagerly anticipating the first Hogsmeade trip of the year. The Great Hall was abuzz with conversation and a palpable air of good cheer filled the room. It seemed that the constant fear and worry over Voldemort's return had been left behind, if only for the time being.

"It's going to be nice visiting Hogsmeade again," said Hermione.

"Mm-hmm," agreed Harry, taking a sip of his orange juice. He put the glass back down and nodded, "Feels like it's been forever since I was last there."

"Considering last year, that's not surprising," noted Luna.

Harry turned to Luna and had to admit that she was looking very pretty this morning. Indeed, one might attribute that to the fact that she was dressed almost normally for once, but there was more to it than that.

She was wearing a silky, dark blue dress that shimmered as the light fell on it. It clung to her like a second skin, contrasting nicely with her pale complexion and dirty blonde hair. Stopping just above her knees and with a low neckline that presented a cleavage that most people would not have believed she had, the overall effect was impressive to say the least.

A bit much for a simple trip down to Hogsmeade, but still very impressive.

She was wearing her untidy hair up in a surprisingly neat French-twist, had a subtle amount of makeup around the eyes and a hint of lipstick and not a turnip to be seen in the vicinity of her ears. If it weren't for the fact that her wand was, as always, tucked behind her right ear, most people would have mistaken her for someone else.

"What d'you want to do, Harry?" asked Neville, turning Harry's attention away from his eccentric friend.

"I have a few things in mind," he admitted.

"Well, I want to stop by Quality Quidditch Supplies first. I need to buy a proper uniform, just in case I need to play again," Neville told them as he spread some marmalade on a slice of toast. He took a bite, chewed, swallowed, and then addressed Harry, "Thanks, by the way, for lending me your spare yesterday."

"No hassle."

"What about you, Luna?" Neville asked. "Anywhere in particular you want to go?"

"Not really," replied Luna, who had arranged her bacon and eggs into a crude smiley face. She was currently cutting into the left eye with two knives that she was holding not unlike a pair of chopsticks. "Hogsmeade doesn't have that much of interest, aside from the Corasians."

"Corasians?" repeated Neville, mystified.

"It's a pity Ron won't be able to come with us," said Harry, knowing from experience that letting Luna try to explain would only serve to confuse everyone even more.

"Yes, but he should be out of the Hospital Wing by tomorrow morning," agreed Hermione. "Ginny's visiting him now."

"Hi, Harry!"

"Hi, Colin," replied Harry, repressing a sigh of resignation. How anyone could be so cheerful all the time was something he would never understand. He was peripherally aware of Luna sitting up straighter at Colin's approach. A glance revealed that her eyes had narrowed to slits that were fixed on the young Gryffindor.

"Hey, d'you know where Ginny is?" Colin asked, looking up and down the table. "I've been looking all over for her."

With his back to Luna as he spoke, Colin missed the subtle eye contact she was making with Harry as she stood from her seat and walked up behind Colin. This was a good thing, since if he had seen the predatory expression on her face, he would have probably pissed himself.

Harry, Hermione, Neville and just about everyone else in the Great Hall, watched with fascination when Luna's head exploded with blue and white flames as her face was reduced to a charred skull. Apparently she had taken a liking to the Flaming Demon Skull Head that Ron had used on Colin the previous month.

"CREEVEY!! YOU WERE WARNED TO STAY AWAY FROM GINNY!!"

"L-L-L-Lah-Luh..."

"I WILL STRIP THE FLESH FROM YOUR BONES!!"

"L-L-L-Loo-Loo..."

"AND THEN I WILL GRIND YOUR BONES INTO POWDER!!"

Colin had, until now, been frozen to the spot, unable to do anything but stutter incoherently. Now he managed to turn around, coming face to face with empty eye sockets of Luna's blazing skull, which loomed ominously in front of him.

"Luna! No! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"SORRY ISN'T GOOD ENOUGH!!" roared Luna. "I'M GOING TO HEX YOU INTO NEXT WEEK!!"

"Gaaah!"

Quite understandably this was a bit too much for poor Colin, causing his courage to flee his presence completely. Turning on a heel and screaming in abject terror, perhaps a bit more so than warranted for the situation, Colin fled the Great Hall as fast as his legs could carry him.

"MY," said Luna as she returned to her seat, "THAT WAS REFRESHING."

"I never knew Colin could run that quickly," remarked Neville, watching the younger Gryffindor's fleeing figure vanish from sight through one of the entrances on the far side of the hall.

"He has good motivation chasing behind him," Harry supplied as the corona of flame's surrounding Luna's head died away.

"Honestly, Luna, what did you do that for?" demanded Hermione.

Luna stared blankly back at her and asked, "Do what for?"

"Luna!"

"Let it go, Nee," suggested Harry, gently prodding her with an elbow. "It's just a little harmless fun."

Hermione looked incredulously at him and then motioned towards the doors that Colin had fled through, "She's traumatising Colin!"

Harry shrugged and said, "If being petrified by a Basilisk didn't have any lasting effect on him, I doubt Luna could do anything."

"Is that a challenge?" asked Luna, eagerly leaning forward.

"No!" Hermione shouted.

"Pity," said Luna, sounding disappointed. "I would've liked a challenge."

"You can't go around terrifying your classmates, Luna," Hermione explained, trying to sound patient, but not succeeding very well.

"Why ever not?" asked Luna with puzzled innocence.

"Aaargh! You're impossible!"

"Thank you."

"Give up, Nee," advised Harry.

"Yeah," agreed Neville, "while you're still behind."

Hermione huffed indignantly, clearly put out by the fact that nobody seemed the least bit concerned about what had just happened to Colin. She could not maintain it for long, however, and relaxed back into her seat with a quiet admission that it was just a tiny bit amusing. That said, she settled down to finish her breakfast.

Harry, who had helped himself to another helping of bacon and fried tomatoes, turned to her and asked, "Anything you want to do, or any place you want to go, when we get to Hogsmeade?"

"Wherever you're going is fine by me," she admitted.

"I don't think I'll be going anywhere interesting, I'm afraid."

"Oh? Where's that?" asked Neville curiously.

"I need to get some supplies for when I show Smythe-White that iron not only can conduct magic, but can actually do it rather well," Harry informed them all, keeping his voice down so that he would not be overheard.

"I've heard of this challenge you made," announced Luna, currently attacking her breakfast's right 'eye'. "Most of the school has, actually. It sparked an interesting debate in the Ravenclaw common room the night it was announced. At the moment it seems about an even split between those who believe that you know what you're talking about and those that think you're simply seeking more attention."

"So, what are you getting?" asked Hermione quickly, clearly hoping to distract him before he became annoyed with the fact that his every action was being scrutinised and studied by his schoolmates, yet again.

Harry, however, could not have cared less about what the other students thought of his challenge. "I need to check the local jewellers," he answered, "to see about finding some crystal."

"Jewellers," repeated Hermione, puzzled by why he would be needing crystal in a challenge to demonstrate the ability of iron to conduct magic.

"I also need to get hold of some pig-iron from a blacksmith, if there is one," Harry finished, his thoughts darting over a list of the various other materials he would be needing. He needed some gold and silver for the project, he knew, but did not think it necessary to go to a blacksmith for them. A few Galleons and Sickles, melted down by Father, would be more than enough to suit his needs.

"You sure about that Harry?" asked Neville. After the challenge had been made most of the Ministry Crew had thrown themselves into studying that aspect of magic. They did not think that Harry needed their help, but they did feel a need to have at least some idea of what was going on. "From what I've read, pig-iron's even worse at conducting magic than refined iron."

"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing," Harry assured him.

"Well, it's definitely an interesting shopping list you have," commented Luna, now having moved on from the eggs to the bacon 'mouth' of her meal. "Anything else?"

"Maybe a book or two on Runes."

"I could lend you some, if you want," Hermione immediately offered, "or show you where to find some in the Hogwarts library."

Harry smiled at her, grateful for the offer. "Thanks, Nee."

The topic of discussion was briefly halted and diverted by the timely arrival of Ginny Weasley. She had obviously just finished visiting Ron in the Hospital Wing, and had rushed to the Great Hall to catch a late breakfast before joining the others on the trip to Hogsmeade.

"Hey, everyone," she greeted as she approached where they were sitting.

"Good morning, Ginny," Luna welcomed with a bright smile, answering before any of the others.

Ginny smiled and took the seat next to her, which caused Luna's smile to grow fractionally larger. As she began to pile food onto her plate, she asked. "Have any of you seen Colin? Phoebe said he was looking for me."

Harry glanced at Luna, whose smile had dimmed slightly, and admitted, "We saw him a few minutes ago."

Ginny paused in the acquisition of her breakfast and looked around. She scanned the length of the table for any sign of the missing wizard. Finding none she asked, "He left?"

"He was in something of a hurry," Neville explained, his lips twitching with restrained laughter.

"I wonder where he is now," wondered Ginny.

"Somewhere over Thursday," Luna helpfully answered.

-oOo-

The visit to Hogsmeade was very enjoyable for the Ministry Crew, barring Ron, who was still trapped in the Hospital Wing. After being taken down to the village by the Thestral drawn carriages, they started by following Harry about as he gathered the materials needed for his demonstration, quasi-challenge, regarding the magical conductivity of iron.

After gathering a few large, misshapen lumps of pig-iron, Harry had ventured into several jewellery stores before finding one that supplied him with several fine crystals. They were all very long and narrow, reminding Hermione of thin knitting needles. That completed, they milled about, moving from store to store as they passed the time until lunch.

There had been a brief encounter, if you could call it such, with Cho Chang. The Ravenclaw prefect, and this year's head girl, had strolled passed their group, hand in hand with Ginny's ex-boyfriend, Michael Corner. Hermione glared at her the entire time, as did Ginny. Neville was too polite to glare, while Harry had ignored her completely. Luna was... well, Luna. In other words, completely oblivious.

That had been half an hour and three stores ago. Now the four Gryffindors and one Ravenclaw found themselves browsing inside one of Hermione's favourite bookstores. An interesting book on Abstract Arithmancy had caught her attention, though she did pause every now and then to watch her companions' antics, particularly Luna.

It had not taken long for Hermione to realize that the younger witch was staring adoringly at Neville, who was talking animatedly with Ginny about something Herbology related. At the moment she was pretending to read a book, which she was holding upside down, as she surreptitiously (or so she must have thought) peered over the brim at where Ginny and Neville were browsing.

Considering that Harry had told them how the pair had gone through Auror training together and had later been partnered together, Hermione decided that having Luna like Neville in that way should not have surprised her.

Hermione set the book she had been looking at down, making a note to pick it up later, when she noticed that Harry had walked up to where Luna was standing. He too had obviously noticed Luna's infatuation with Neville. Of course, with his memories of the future, he must have already known.

"Luna?"

"What! I'm not doing anything!" Luna hastily replied, jerking as if she had been completely unaware of his approach. She calmed somewhat and held up the book she had been holding and said, "Just reading this book. It's very fascinating."

"I'm sure it is, Doc," Harry readily agreed. He reached over and flipped the book right side up in Luna's hands. "I think you'll find this might help."

"Er, no actually," admitted Luna, a blush rising to her cheeks. "I prefer it upside down."

Harry looked at her, clearly not believing a word of it, and asked, "You do?"

Luna nodded so fast her head was almost a blur. "It's like the Quibbler that way."

"Ah, I should have known," said Harry, in apparent understanding.

"Harry, please--" Luna began, but was interrupted when Harry pressed a finger to her lips.

"Ssh, Luna," he told her quietly. "I won't say anything. Nor will Hermione. Don't worry about it."

"Thanks, Harry," she sighed, visibly relaxing after hearing his assurances. She glanced to where the others were still standing and resumed her furtive scrutiny, holding the book (right way up this time) in front of her face.

"My pleasure," demurred Harry, patting her shoulder and then striding to where Hermione had been watching the short exchange. A slight, satisfied smile was on his lips as he rejoined her.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him and jokingly observed, "Aren't we the little matchmaker."

Harry leaned back against the bookshelf next to where she was standing, crossing his arms and watching Luna intently. "She must act on her feelings before it's too late," he explained. "Even if nothing comes from it, at least she'll know she tried."

"I can just imagine what the wedding will be like," she said after a while.

"Wedding?" repeated Harry incredulously. He looked at her with wide eyes and asked, "Aren't you getting a little ahead of yourself?"

"Well, they do seem an unlikely couple at first glance," Hermione began, "but I'm sure Neville will..." She trained off when she noticed the utter confusion on Harry's face.

"Neville?" Harry repeated even more incredulously than before. He shook his head in confusion and asked, "What on earth are you talking about?"

Getting the feeling that she had misinterpreted the situation, Hermione tentatively asked, "You mean you're not trying to set Luna up with Neville?"

"Of course not," replied Harry. "I'm setting her up with Ginny."

His words, spoken in a tone of voice which implied that he had thought it was perfectly obvious, caused Hermione to just about swallow her tongue in shock. She openly gaped at Harry, at a complete loss for words.

"Shut your mouth, Nee," Harry advised, reaching out to snap her jaw shut, "before something nests in it."

It took a moment for her brain to restart, but once it did, Hermione was in motion. She grabbed Harry by the arm and dragged him down the nearest aisle of books. Looking for an ideal spot, where nobody was likely to overhear, she lead them both to a musty and disused section of the shop.

Satisfied that there would be no eavesdroppers listening in, Hermione released her grip on Harry and rounded on him. "Ginny?!" she asked in a hissed whisper, "You're setting Luna up with Ginny?! Are you mad?!"

"Just a little, yes."

"Why on earth are you doing something so unbelievably stupid?" she asked incredulously.

"It's not stupid, Hermione," he replied curtly.

Hermione easily picked up the growing annoyance in Harry's voice. She quickly recovered her composure and apologised, "I'm sorry, Harry, it's just..." she waved a hand in the direction of where they had left their friends, "this is something I'd never have expected. Luna and Ginny?"

Harry folded his arms and leaned against the nearest book stack and asked, "You disapprove?"

"Not really," Hermione admitted. "I mean, it's not exactly my cup of tea, but I'm open minded and as long it makes them both happy..."

"Ginny is the unrequited love of Luna's life," Harry informed her seriously.

"What happened? In the future?" she asked.

"Ginny was killed in the attack on Hogwarts at the end of next year, remember?" he reminded her, leaning his head back to rest against the bookshelves as he closed his eyes and sighed.

"Did Luna ever tell her how she feels?" asked Hermione, having the dreadful suspicion that she already knew the answer.

"No," Harry shook his head. Opening his eyes to peer at her from over the rims of his silver framed glasses, he added, "Despite how it may seem, Luna's actually very shy when it comes to her feelings."

Hermione could easily imagine how the blonde witch must have felt. She knew how she would feel if Harry were to die before they had a chance to find out if what they felt for each other could grow into more.

"She must have been devastated."

"She was."

"At least she had you to help her get through it," she told him, trying to remind him of the good he must have done.

"I'm not sure I was much help," he muttered.

"Don't sell yourself short, Harry," Hermione admonished.

"I shagged her brains out whenever she wanted for the next twenty years, Nee," Harry told her flatly, his expression a rueful one. "Not what I'd call the best way to help someone move past their grief."

This shocked Hermione even more than the revelation that Luna was planning to actively pursue a relationship with Ginny. She stumbled back into the book stack behind her, upsetting several books on impact. She stared at Harry, a terrible knot having formed in her chest, and tried to find words to speak.

"You... you... and Luna..." she began, but trailed off.

"Luna will be grieving for Ginny, I'll be grieving for you," Harry said by way of explanation, bending over to pick up the books she had knocked over. He gathered them in his arms and settled them on a nearby shelf, unable to return them to their proper places since Hermione was standing in the way.

"You... you're going to be lovers?" she asked tentatively.

"Lovers? No."

"But you--"

Harry clapped a hand over her mouth and hissed for her to be quiet. Shocked silent, Hermione realised that she had been getting progressively louder. If they did not wish to have an audience descend upon them, she had best keep her voice down.

"Nee, believe me, I feel nothing but friendship for Luna," Harry told her in a soft but sincere whisper. "Now or in the future. Whatever it may be."

"Then... why?" she asked plaintively.

"I don't really know," he said with a shrug. "I mean, it's not like I was really there."

Hermione needed to know, however, so insisted, "Why do you think?"

He visibly considered his answer for a minute before replying. "We were both hurting. It took the pain away. For a while."

"Friends with benefits?"

"I guess you could say that."

Unable to decided whether she should be jealous or not, Hermione spent several minutes mulling over what she had just learned. It seemed odd to think that Harry and Luna might possibly have a relationship, of a physical sort, some time in the future.

But, that future was uncertain now. Luna was chasing after Ginny, or at least making her infatuation with the Weasley girl a little more obvious than it had been originally. And Harry, well, Hermione was fairly certain that he was interested in pursuing a relationship with her, not Luna.

Harry had been quiet as well, clearly giving her space and time to think, but was beginning to shift nervously from one foot to another. Speaking softly and sounding rather unsure of himself, he asked, "Nee? You okay about this?"

"I don't know," Hermione answered truthfully. She was willing to bet that it would take her a good number of hours of introspection before she resolved her feelings about this. She glanced at him and asked one of the many questions that suddenly plagued her. "Why didn't you say anything earlier?"

"I didn't want to upset you," he replied softly, ducking his head and examining the tip of his right sneaker. He looked up at her from beneath his mop of black hair and smiled wanly, "Besides, once Luna gets together with Ginny, I doubt she'll be needing me as a future bed warmer."

"You wouldn't complain though, if she did," observed Hermione.

"I'm sixteen," he shrugged.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I wouldn't complain all that much if any pretty girl wanted me as a bed warmer," replied Harry, a bit of the frustration he must have been feeling leaking into his voice and stance. He had stuck both hands into his trouser pockets and was scuffing one foot on the floor tiles.

Hermione considered his answer for a moment and decided that he was just being honest. It was, after all, flattering to the ego to know that someone desired you in that fashion. And there was a big difference between not complaining about that attention, and refusing to actually sleep with them.

That decided she asked, "What if she and Ginny don't work out?"

"Then I'll be there to lend her a shoulder to cry on."

"And if she wants more than that?"

"I'll tell her to direct all requests in writing to my girlfriend," Harry answered with a bit of a smile, holding up his hand, three fingers extended outward, "in triplicate."

"I'm serious, Harry," she told him sternly, not pleased that he was joking about this.

"So am I," Harry affirmed earnestly. He leaned in close to her and gently gripped her shoulders. "I wouldn't do anything like that without your express approval."

"And if I refused to let you... warm Luna's bed?" she asked softly. "What then?"

"Then I wouldn't," he said plainly.

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

Hermione blinking, feeling a bit stymied by his answer. She opened her mouth to speak, but could not think of anything to say, so closed it again. It took several tries before she managed to asked, "Why?"

"Because you're my Hermione," Harry answered, ducking forward to kiss the tip of her nose, "and anything you want, you shall receive."

"Does that include you?" she teased, for some reason entering a teasing mood, despite the seriousness of the discussion they were having. It seemed completely at odds with all the doubt and worry and anxiety that had built up after hearing about his future self's liaisons with Luna.

"If you ask."

They were leaning in closer, gravitating together, in preparation for a proper kiss. They had only really kissed on a few occasions, less than a dozen, since the start of their own relationship. Hermione could not help but feel elated that Harry was seemingly taking the initiative, something he seldom did. Their lips were only a hair's breadth apart when she whispered her reply.

"I'm asking."

"Harry? Hermione?" called a familiar voice. "Where have you two gotten to?"

This managed to startle them both and they jumped apart, putting a propriety three foot distance between each other. Both were breathing slightly faster and shallower than normal, light blushes adorning their cheeks. They stood there, each staring at the other, trying to get their bearings.

Harry recovered faster and called, "We're over here, Ginny."

A moment or two later, Ginny, Neville and Luna rounded the corner of the book stack Harry and Hermione had been standing behind.

Ginny looked about with wide-eyed interest (for some unknown reason) before focusing on them. "There you are."

"What were you doing back here?" asked Neville.

"Checking the books, of course," Hermione answered, knowing that would be the best excuse under the circumstances. There was no way she would reveal that they had been discuss Harry's future sex life, with or without Luna.

"You're interested in Sex Magic then, are you?" asked Ginny, arching a wry eyebrow at them.

A horrible feeling of mortification blossomed in the pit of her stomach. For the first time since dragging Harry here, Hermione looked around and saw where exactly she had brought them. As Ginny had noted, they were indeed hiding in the middle of the Sex Magic section of the bookstore.

"Oh."

In an attempt to look as if she had been busy browsing the books, rather than almost kissing Harry, Hermione had leaned close to the book stack and grabbed a random book. It was only now that she noticed the book she was holding was titled "Sapphic Hearth Ward Formation".

She almost dropped it right there, but managed to actually return it to its place on the shelf with some measure of nonchalance. She absently noted its location. After all, if Harry's matchmaking succeeded, Ginny and Luna might find a use for it some time in the future.

Harry cleared his throat and tried, "Ahem, well..."

Luna, who was leaning against Ginny, summed things up by saying, "Kinky."

"It's not like that!" Hermione protested, her cheeks burning as she blushed.

"Well, if you're done here, why don't we go down to the Three Broomsticks," suggested Neville, "where you can explain what it's really like over a pint of butterbeer."

"Yes, I think that is an excellent idea," Hermione agreed, relieved to have a way out before the situation became even more awkward than it already was. With luck, everyone would have forgotten by the time they reached the pub. If not, then maybe the butterbeer would distract them.

Embarrassed beyond belief, beyond what she thought possible, Hermione pushed her way past and led them towards the exit. She was in such a hurry and so intent on leaving that she completely forgot the book on Abstract Arithmancy that she had been thinking of buying.

They were just stepping out the bookstore and onto the pavement when Harry spoke up, "Oh, by the way Ginny..."

"Yes, Harry?" Ginny asked.

"Say 'yes'."

"What?" asked Ginny, looking at Harry in confusion. "Say 'yes' to what?"

Harry smiled knowingly and said, "You'll know when it's time."

Ginny clearly was not quite sure what to make of this statement, but nodded in acceptance and carried on walking, soon catching up to Hermione and then taking the lead from her.

As she fell back to join Harry at the rear of the group, Hermione could see that Luna was blushing a little, no doubt a result of Harry's advice to Ginny. She was also trailing behind Ginny and appeared to be watching the redhead's backside sway as she led the way to the Three Broomsticks. She seemed utterly enraptured by the sight.

Sidling up close to Harry as they walked slowly behind the other three, Hermione leaned close to him and whispered, "You're a good man, Harry Potter."

"Thanks," he graciously accepted.

Hermione impulsively leaned over and kissed him, wrapping one arm around his waist to pull him close to her as she did. Her eyes drifted closed as the kiss drew on, her mouth parting slightly as she carefully ran her tongue across his lips. To her disappointment, Harry did not reciprocate, but his grip on her waist did tighten briefly.

Reluctantly breaking the kiss, Hermione drew back. Her checks were warm, not from embarrassment this time, and she could see that Harry was also looking a bit flushed. She retained her hold around his waist, holding him close, as they resumed walking, their pace quickening as they realized that they had fallen behind the others.

"Dead, once Ron and the rest of the Weasley family find out," she concluded, a bit breathlessly, "but a good man nonetheless."

-oOo-

That kiss was very much on Hermione's mind the following morning.

She was on her way to the library to return some books, as she did every Monday morning. She had not had much opportunity to read this weekend, with both a Quidditch match and a Hogsmeade visit, but she had managed to finish two short Arithmancy books and one medium length text on Ancient Runes.

Harry was foremost on her thoughts however, and it was only because the route from Gryffindor Tower to the Library was engrained into her very being, that Hermione did not walk into a wall or something similar. As it was, she came close to stepping on one of the trick steps, but managed to avoid it at the last second.

All in all, she was quite pleased with the way things had turned out. This was despite the brief encounter with Cho Chang and the somewhat worrying knowledge that Harry and Luna had been lovers (friends with benefits) in the future.

She was shaken from her thoughts when something impinged on the fringe of her awareness. Glancing up she came to an abrupt halt at the sight of Draco Malfoy, with Crabbe and Goyle standing to either side, blocking her path.

"Well, well, lads," Draco drawled. "Look who's wandering about all by her lonesome."

"Malfoy," she hissed. "What do you want?"

"Lots of things, mudblood."

Hermione glared at him, clutching the books she was holding with a white-knuckled grip. Not wanting to spend more time than she had to in Draco's presence, she suggested acerbically, "Then why don't you stop bothering me and go find them?"

Draco smirked and replied, "Because one of them is right here, in front of me."

By now Hermione was fully on her guard. Draco had made several suggestive advances on her at the start of term, once on the Hogwarts Express and then again the following morning, during Potions. He had stopped abruptly after that, an action that most attributed to Harry's intervention.

In fact, he had not approached or spoken to either Harry or Hermione since the first day of term. To encounter him now, looking particularly smug, was not reassuring. Hermione wondered what had changed to cause Draco to break his long silence. Whatever it was, she thought, it would not be a good thing.

She glanced at Crabbe and Goyle, who was staring stoically at her, and bit back a curse. She was reasonably sure, what with Harry's training from the Defence Association, that she was more than a match for Draco. But the others made it three to one against her.

Even if Crabbe and Goyle weren't only mediocre duellers, their presence meant that Hermione would have to split her attention between them all. She wasn't sure that she would be able to draw her wand and fire off curses fast enough to take down all three without being on the receiving end of something nasty.

Desperately wishing that Harry were there, she turned her gaze back to Draco. He was watching her with a smile that set the hairs on the back of her neck on end. There was a confidence to his stance that Hermione knew could only mean that he had something up his sleeve. Something that had given him the balls to cause trouble again.

"If you want a book," she informed him in the most level tone she could manage, "You should check them out of the library. Don't ask me for one."

"It's not those musty old books I'm interested in," Draco replied with a predatory smile that revealed a narrow sliver of gleaming teeth.

Hermione dropped the books she was holding, letting them fall to the floor as she took two quick steps back, so that she would not have to worry about tripping over them if she needed to move. She dug into her robe pocket and drew her wand, levelling it at Draco's chest before the books had settled from their fall.

"Then perhaps you want my wand?"

"Not hardly," Draco snorted. "I have one of my own, thank you."

"So what d'you want then?" she asked curtly.

Though nothing had been said yet, having been accosted by Draco and his two companions led Hermione's thoughts along a gut wrenching path to one disturbing conclusion. She had a feeling she already knew what answer the blonde-haired wizard would give her.

Draco's predatory smile deepened as he said, "You."

Hermione cautiously began to back away, never taking her eyes off the three Slytherins in front of her. She wanted to put as much distance between them as possible. That way, if or when they made a rush at her, she would have enough time to hit them with something nasty.

"Sorry, but I'm already taken."

"Potter?" asked Draco disdainfully, his smile disappearing as his lips twisted into a scowl. He snorted and shook his head at her. "I'd have thought a know-it-all like you would have the brains to choose someone better."

"Better than what?" she retorted, "You?"

"Heh. You never know," he shrugged.

"Quite the contrary," Hermione informed him with certainty. "I do know."

"Then perhaps you'll give me the chance to change your mind?" Draco asked with a sly expression.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and retorted, "As you said; not hardly."

Draco laughed, a bit humourlessly and acknowledged, "Touché, mudblood."

"Y'know," Hermione said dryly, "calling me that somewhat detracts from your attempts to be charming."

"Perhaps it is a bit... crude," he admitted with a shrug. He reached into his pocket, almost causing her to hex him right there and then, and withdrew something that he then held out to her. "Allow me to offer you this gift as an apology."

It was a small crystal ball, which fit snugly in the palm of his hand, and reminded Hermione of the remembrall that Neville had been given in their first year.

She shook her head and refused, "Thanks, but no thanks. My memory is working just find."

"Oh, but this isn't a remembrall," Draco said slyly.

"Whatever it is, I don't want it."

"Please, Granger," he insisted, "At least have a closer look." Draco tossed the ball at Hermione and, instinctively, she caught it with her free hand. It was stupid really, to allow herself to be distracted like that, but it had happened before she could stop herself. The smirk on Draco's face became a victorious one as he shouted, "Activate!"

For a second Hermione did not know what to make of that. That moment of hesitation before she understood was enough for Draco's trap to spring. She tried to throw the ball away, now knowing its true nature, but it was too late. There was a sudden tugging sensation behind her navel and then she was gone.

-oOo-

Harry was trying to enjoy breakfast with his friends, but the headache that he had awoken with was making it difficult to do so. He grit his teeth and blinked several times, trying to force back the dull throbbing behind his eyes, as he listened to the conversation around him.

The current focus of his interest, distracted as it was, happened to be Ron. His best friend had escaped Madam Pomfrey's clutches earlier that morning. He was still a bit weak in the legs and had a tendency to hobble along, but had managed to join the rest of the school for breakfast before classes began. He was also currently trying to fight off Luna's attempts to force him to have a large helping of a lettuce salad with his bacon and eggs.

"I'm not having any rabbit food with my breakfast!"

"But it's good for you," Luna insisted. "It'll put some colour in your cheeks."

"Who wants green cheeks?" retorted Ron.

A silent notification from Father caused Harry's headache to evaporate like a snowflake falling onto a sizzling skillet. The news that Hermione had just disappeared from the castle was enough to make all other concerns, such as minor physical discomfort, utterly insignificant.

There was a single moment of icy calm, enough time for one breath, which is how long it took for the fact to properly sink into Harry's consciousness. Then that calm was replaced with a fury that burned hotter and brighter than the sun itself.

"WHAT?!" Harry roared at the top of his lungs, leaping to his feet. The glass of orange juice that he had been holding crashed to the floor as he tossed it aside.

"What?" repeated Ron, looking at him in confusion.

"THAT SON OF A BITCH!"

"Harry, what is it?" asked Ginny, seeming to realize that something had to be very wrong for Harry to be having such a loud and violent reaction.

"What's wrong?" Neville asked a second later.

"I'M GOING TO KILL HIM!" bellowed Harry, ignoring his friends' worried questions. He angrily swiped his hand and scattered his plate, and several others, across the table. "HE'S DEAD, D'YOU HEAR ME?! DEAD!!"

The attention of everyone in the Great Hall had been focused solely on Harry since his first outburst, but by now they were starting to get a glimpse of just how angry he was. In fact, aside from his friends, most of the nearby Gryffindors were cautiously backing away from where he was standing.

Harry was too wrapped up in his almost blinding fury to notice, but his magical aura had billowed into being and the air surrounding him was practically crackling with energy. It took a great deal of emotional stress before a wizard's magic came to the fore like this, and even then, only the strongest wizards could produce a display such as this.

Without meaning to, Harry was scaring everyone that witnessed this display.

"Uh, Harry, you're starting to scare us," said Ron, who was watching Harry rant from where he had struggled to his feet. His expression was a nervous one and Harry was vaguely aware that sweat was beading on his friend's forehead and upper lip, most likely from the exertion of forcing himself to stand so quickly.

"What's wrong? What is it?" asked Ginny insistently.

With almost the same swiftness that it had formed in, Harry's fury disappeared. Or rather, he wrestled control of it and channelled it into a more productive use than cussing up a storm. The tunnel vision of anger that had been all but blinding Harry to everything around him left. As a result his mind cleared, becoming so cool and analytical that even Father seemed to be impressed by his sudden focus.

His magic pulsed and writhed for a second before settling down and drawing in upon itself. It was still present, kept under tight control by Harry's determination, but still strong enough to tickle the senses of those present.

"Bring every single Surveillance Drone we have to high alert," Harry ordered Father, his voice clipped and sure. "I want constant updates on the status of everybody we're keeping track of."

"Mister Potter," called Professor Dumbledore, from where he was standing by the staff table. Harry scarcely bothered to even glance at the headmaster as he asked, "Harry, what is happening?"

Harry ignored the question, listening instead to the reports Father was passing him. He frowned at the mention that the drone assigned to Hermione was currently en-route to the Great Hall and asked, "What about her parents?"

There was a short pause as Father contacted the drones that Harry had sent to keep watch over Hermione's parents and their home. A moment later the Gatekeeper replied that both Doctors Granger were safe and sound, sitting at their dining room table and enjoying breakfast, unaware of the peril their daughter was in.

"Is anything happening around or near their house?" asked Harry, thinking that just because Hermione's parents were not in any immediate danger, that such danger was not currently creeping up on them.

Father acknowledged the point and sent a command to the surveillance drones monitoring the Granger household, ordering them to commence a scan of the immediate area.

"Harry, please," pleaded Dumbledore, "Will you explain what's going on?"

"You want to know what's going on?" demanded Harry, his anger surfacing once more as he rounded on the headmaster. He saw that Dumbledore had come out from behind the staff table, but had not yet descended to the floor of the Great Hall. This time he did not fight the unreasonable anger and resentment that rose up within him. Hermione had been abducted, here at Hogwarts, and any willingness Harry might have to give Dumbledore a chance had gone with her. "Well, let me tell you!"

The anger rose up so quickly that Harry momentarily lost control of his tightly reined magic, the backlash causing the cutlery on the Gryffindor table to rattle. Everyone who had not already done so, edged slightly back. Only Ron, Ginny, Luna and Neville, did not falter, though they were watching apprehensively.

Harry waved his arms about, indicating the entire castle around him, and declared, "Everyone keeps saying that Hogwarts is supposedly the safest place on earth." He turned back to Dumbledore and scathingly said, "Guess what... it isn't!"

A report from Father turned Harry's attention away from the puzzled headmaster. The drones keeping watch over the Grangers had detected no unusual activity in or around the house they were assigned to watch.

Breathing a sigh of relief at this small mercy, Harry decided not to take any chances. Having never known his parents, he knew just how much Hermione loved her own. Nodding decisively he ordered, "Switch the drones there to combat mode. Just in case."

"Drones? Combat?" repeated Ron dully. He stomped over to where Harry was standing, put his fists on his hips and glared unhappily as he demanded to know, "Harry, what the bloody hell is going on?"

"Voldemort and his Death Eaters," Harry replied with a furious glance towards Dumbledore. "That's what's going on!"

"Perhaps you could be a little clearer, Harry," suggested Dumbledore mildly. His tone was a puzzled one, but he was projecting the air of a man that was in control of the situation. "I don't understand."

"No surprise there," retorted Harry.

Professor McGonagall, who was standing by Dumbledore's side, huffed indignantly at his snide tone. She drew herself up and began to reprimand him, "Mister Potter--"

"Shut up, McGonagall!" Harry snapped, interrupting her. "This isn't the time for prissy, stuck-up manners!"

"Then what, if you would be so kind, is it the time for?" asked Dumbledore.

Harry glowered angrily at the old wizard. He would have thought that it was obvious, but apparently he was wrong. He gave a dissatisfied huff and turned away from the professors. They were clearly not going to be of any help, so he decided not to waste any more time with them.

He regarded his friends for a moment. They were watching him expectantly, worry intermingling with trust in their expressions. Despite the grim seriousness of the situation, he could not help but smile briefly. These were probably the only four people in Hogwarts right now that he could rely on.

By now Harry's magic was almost completely under control now, only evidenced by the way his robes seemed to billow around him. His eyes, however, held a look to them that his friends were intimately familiar with. It was the look he got whenever those he care for were threatened. The look that meant he was going to go through anything, or anyone, that stood in his way while coming to the rescue.

His explanation was a short one.

"Hermione."

"Hermione?" repeated Ron, puzzled. His puzzlement lasted only a moment, before being replaced by frantic worry. He stared at Harry, wide-eyed, and demanded urgently, "What's happened to Hermione?"

Harry heard Professor McGonagall mumble, "Miss Granger?"

Ginny stepped up and grabbed him by the arm, asking, "Harry, what's happened?"

"Remember how I told you the time-table had been set forward?" he asked in return.

"Yeah," admitted Ron.

"But what... oh gods, no," Ginny's face drained of blood at the meaning of his words.

Neville tried to speak, but trailed off, "You don't mean..."

It was Luna, whose normally blissful expression had been replaced by a frighteningly narrow one, who summed it up. She regarded Harry with a slight frown and said, "Hermione has been abducted by Death Eaters."

Her pronouncement was met by gasps from around the hall. She had spoken fairly softly, a far cry from her regular strident tones, but the students had been listening intently to every word.

"It was that bastard Malfoy and his matching bookends," Harry said, confirming his friends' fears. He grimaced unhappily and elaborated, "They were waiting for her when she was on her way to the library. He threw a Portkey at her, probably got it from his father."

"Hogwarts' wards don't prevent the use of Portkeys," noted Luna.

"Do you mean to say that Miss Granger has been kidnapped?" asked Dumbledore.

"Good heavens, it can't be," breathed Professor McGonagall, clutching a hand to her chest.

For the most part, Harry ignored the professors, concentrating instead on explaining matters to his friends. "The Portkey took Hermione and left the drone I had watching her behind."

Ron nodded in understanding and insisted, "We have to do something."

"I'm already working on it."

"Do you know where they've taken her?" asked Ginny.

"I have a few ideas," Harry admitted. His thoughts turned to what he knew of the future, most especially when Dumbledore had revealed that he had known where the Death Eaters had held Hermione during her time as their prisoner. "Based on what I know of... current events... I can narrow it down to one or two locations, but I need to confirm it first. I don't want to waste time running off to the wrong place."

"But how can you confirm it?" asked Neville.

It seemed almost preordained. Some might say divine intervention. Others might call it Fate. Whatever the cause, it was at that moment, almost on cue, that Draco Malfoy and his two 'matching bookends' came swaggering into the Great Hall.

Harry smiled dangerously and said, "My confirmation just arrived."

He noticed that Neville and Ginny both shuddered at the utter ruthlessness in his voice. This, he felt, was a good thing, because if he could scare his friends, then he sure as heck could scare Draco. Fear would be good motivation for his school hood nemesis to reveal where Hermione had been taken. With luck, he wouldn't have to do anything... drastic.

Seeing that Draco and the other two were heading to their regular spot at the Slytherin table, Harry stalked after them. He walked at a brisk clip and managed to intercept them before they could reach their seats.

"Harry! No!" cried Dumbledore, but Harry ignored him.

Crabbe and Goyle moved as if to interpose themselves between Harry and Draco, but Harry glared balefully at them when they tried. Surprisingly, they were smart enough to quail under his glare. In the end they contented themselves to stand just behind and to either side of Draco.

Draco had stopped when he realized that a confrontation was about to occur. Now he stood in place and faced Harry with a smug grin. It took most of Harry's considerable willpower to resist the urge to kill the little shit on the spot.

"What's your problem, Potter?" Draco asked. He smiled knowingly. "Lose something?"

"Hermione," Harry ground out.

"You lost the mudblood? What a pity," Draco bemoaned. Then he paused and added, "Oh, wait... no, it isn't."

"You tossed a Portkey at her."

"What? Rubbish," protested Draco innocently.

"Where did it take her?" Harry asked quietly. He knew, without a doubt, that Draco had been the one to toss Hermione the Portkey. Father's drone had faithfully recorded and then transmitted the incident. False protests of his innocence would only serve to make Harry even angrier than he already was.

Draco smiled and shook his head as he spoke. "Even if I did use a Portkey to steal away your little mudblood friend, utter nonsense by the way, what makes you think I would know where it took her?"

Harry regarded him through narrow eyes. On the one hand, he really did not want to waste time trying to find out something that he probably already knew. On the other hand, he could not afford the delay it would be if his information was now incorrect and he raced off to the wrong location. He needed to be sure.

"Tell me where she is, Malfoy," he ordered. "Now."

"And if I don't?"

Harry smiled humourlessly. "Then I will break every bone in your body, one at a time, until you do."

Draco began to laugh, but the look Harry had fixed upon him gave him pause. He seemed to realise that Harry was not joking or bluffing about this. He was, as a matter of fact, perfectly willing to do exactly what he had just threatened. With the help of Father's GM fields, it would be easy.

Still, Harry had a feeling that Draco would not willing part with the information in his possession. If he did, it would be akin to admitting his guilt. Being a Slytherin through and through, Draco would not let his position be compromised.

"Sorry, Potter, can't help you," he finally said, his voice a study of practiced nonchalance. He turned to leave, speaking over his shoulder as he did, "But don't worry. I'm sure your little mudblood will turn up. Eventually."

Having been expecting this, Harry called on Father. Draco had not managed to take more than two steps when the Gatekeeper's GM fields enveloped him and plucked him into the air. He hung suspended, motionless, for a second before spinning around and drifting to float in front of Harry.

"What?" he asked dumbly, looking about with incomprehension. Then he glared at Harry, realising that he was responsible, and demanded, "Potter, let me go!"

Crabbe and Goyle tried to intervene, but a pulse of Father's GM fields tossed them halfway across the Great Hall, clear over the Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables. They crashed to the floor with dull thumps, skidded to a halt after a few feet, and then lay still.

Dumbledore had descended from the stage and commanded, "Harry, stop this!"

"Mister Potter!" snapped McGonagall, following after the headmaster.

"Harry, what are you doing?" he heard Ginny asked from where she was standing.

"Questioning a prisoner, from the look of it," answered Luna.

"But Malfoy isn't a prisoner," said Neville, sounding a bit unsure.

"Isn't he?"

Harry ignored them and the approaching professors, ordering Father to make sure that he would not be interrupted. He focused all of his attention on Malfoy, who was continuing to shout and demand for his release. "I will ask politely," Harry informed him levelly. "Where is Hermione?"

"I told you, Potter, I don't know!" Draco insisted. "Now let me go!"

"Wrong answer."

Another of Father's GM fields wrapped around Draco and forced his left arm out, towards Harry. The field focused on his hand and spread his fingers wide.

"Last chance, Malfoy," Harry offered as he reached out. He gripped Draco's outstretched index finger and asked again, "Where is Hermione?"

"Dammit, you idiot, let me go!"

"Wrong answer."

With a sharp jerk, Harry twisted his closed hand and snapped Draco's finger with a wet crack. Releasing his hold on the now broken digit, Harry watched as Draco stared stupidly at it. It took several breathless seconds before he began to realize what had just happened.

It was about then that the pain of the injury, having been momentarily delayed by the shock, made itself known to the Malfoy heir. Draco threw his head back, Father's GM fields allowing him enough freedom of movement to do so, and screamed.

"AAAAAAHHH!"

"Good God, Harry!" exclaimed Dumbledore, now rushing forward.

"Potter, have you lost your mind?" shouted Snape, also hurrying to where the two wizards were. His progress was halted, along with all the other professors, by Father's GM fields. Every attempt to approach where Harry was standing resulted in the professor being lifted into the air and deposited ten metres away (the limit of the field's reach). "What the devil?"

"He's using Father to keep them back," said Ron, understanding what was happening even as the professors looked about in confusion.

"Harry, let Draco go," pleaded Dumbledore. He stood just outside the extents of Father's fields and implored, "You don't need to do this. We'll find Hermione, but not this way."

Harry, however, ignored everything that was happening. His entire universe had shrunk down to himself, Malfoy and getting the answer to his question. Nothing more or less. He reached out again and now took hold of Draco's extended middle finger.

"You bastard! You fucking bastard!" Malfoy spat viciously. "You broke my finger!"

"Where is Hermione?" Harry asked levelly.

"Screw you, you--"

"Wrong answer," Harry interrupted calmly. His voice had not wavered or changed tone since he had started asking the one question that concerned him. He jerked his hand and deftly broke the finger he was holding.

"AAAAAARRR!!"

"Harry, stop!" begged Dumbledore.

"Mister Potter --Harry-- please!" urged Smythe-White, who had been silent until now. He tried to move closer, but Father held him at bay. "Let Draco go! This isn't going to help Hermione!"

"Go Harry!" urged Ron, pumping a hand into the air. "Make the son of a bitch talk!"

McGonagall turned to glare at the redhead and snapped, "Mister Weasley!"

Ron blanched, realizing what he had just said, and apologised, "Urk! Sorry!"

His attention concentrated as it was, Harry was only vaguely aware of all this happening around him. He had a feeling that, if he looked away from Draco's sweat covered face, he would be greeted by horrified stares from the professors and the rest of the students.

Still, he told himself, this was something that had to be done. He could not afford to be squeamish or merciful at a time like this. Hermione was currently in the clutches of somebody that would not hesitate to do things to her that ordinary people would shy from even thinking about. Time was a luxury he did not have to waste.

He took Draco's left ring finger firmly in hand.

"What are you doing, you bastard?" gasped Draco, panting for breath.

"Where is Hermione?" Harry asked.

"Dammit, I'm not--"

Harry snapped the finger before Draco could finish, having not received the answer he wanted. He supposed that he could have waited for the whole reply, but decided that by perhaps showing such intolerance he might spur Draco on. Draco howled and tried to tear himself loose from the fields holding him, but this was impossible.

"GAAAAAAHHG!"

"Wrong answer."

Seeing that Draco was too busy screaming and gasping to pay him proper attention, Harry glanced around. The students were sitting or standing in place, unable to bring themselves to move as they watched the spectacle in front of them. Grouped together in an urgent huddle, the professors were speaking urgently.

Snape was arguing with Dumbledore, "Headmaster, we have to stop him."

"Yes," agreed Smythe-White. He glanced over at Harry and added, "And quickly, for both their sakes."

"Draw your wands," Dumbledore ordered with a sigh. He too glanced worriedly at Harry, gnawing at his bottom lip. "Try not to hurt him."

"Hurting him is the least of our worries," Snape replied.

Harry watched calmly as Snape stepped to the front of the professors. He was standing just beyond the limit of Father's fields. He drew his wand from inside his robes and carefully, but quickly, took aim.

To Harry's mild surprise, there was no glint of the malicious anticipation that he would have expected from the potions master during such an act. Perhaps his future memories had clouded his perceptions and judgement of the man more than he had thought. He turned back to Draco, who had stopped yelling and was swearing at him again.

"Stupefy!"

The spell shot forth from the wand's tip, the red streak rocketing through the air, aimed with impeccable precision at Harry's chest. It crossed the distance between Snape and Harry in an instant. The sound of breaths being drawn in anticipation could be heard over the whistle of the spell's flight.

Just before the Stunner could hit, Father interposed itself between the spell and Harry. The red light was absorbed by the small black sphere, seemingly having no affect. Ignoring the gasps of surprise and disbelief, Harry took hold of Draco's pinkie and repeated his question.

He did, however, smile slightly when he heard Snape's dumbstruck, "What?"

His attention was drawn back to Draco when the blonde wizard again refused to answer. His smile, slight as it was, turned into a scowl as he reacted.

"YEEAAARRRRGGH!!"

"We're running out of fingers, Malfoy," he said, though he doubted that Draco actually heard what he said. The other boy was too busy yelling and sobbing to be paying enough attention.

Harry briefly considered moving onto the only unbroken finger on Draco's left hand, his thumb, but eventually decided against it. He silently had Father use its fields to lower Draco's arm.

As the fields released his arm, Draco pulled it to his chest. He made to cradle it with his right hand, but Father's fields snapped around that arm and lifted it up to replace the newly freed limb.

"Now, again," said Harry softly. He reached out to take Draco's right index finger in hand. He saw that Draco's already pale face blanched even further as the implications of this set in. "Where is Hermione?"

"I don't--"

Harry once again broke the finger before Draco could finish.

"AAAAAAAARRRGGGHH!!"

"Wrong answer."

"Stupefy!"

Snape had been trying again and again and again to hit Harry with a Stunning Charm. He was all but shouting the incantation now, growing increasingly louder as he went on. Each time he fire the spell off, Father's pitch black sphere would swoop down and block it before it had travelled even half the distance.

"Stupefy!" Snape tried again. He swore as the red beam was intercepted. "Dammit, I can't hit him!"

"Together then," asserted Smythe-White, stepping up to stand by Snape's side. He raised his wand and took aim. "It can't block both of us at the same time."

Nodding in agreement, Snape took aim once again.

"Stupefy!"

Father moved in a blur of motion, even faster than before, and cut off both spells, one after the other. The attack was over in an eye blink and no more successful than any of Snape's earlier attempts. Harry was only aware of this because Father bothered to mention that it was happening. He was far too busy otherwise, breaking Draco's right middle finger, to have even noticed.

Smythe-White stared at the sphere, which was bobbing up and down in the air between the professors and Harry. He shook his head and said, "Impossible."

"You'd be surprised what can be accomplished with gravity fields," said Luna, who had been watching the proceedings with a curious intensity.

"What?"

"Luna!" snapped Ginny, shaking the blonde witch by the shoulder. "This is serious."

"I'm always serious," Luna replied. She paused to consider and then added, "Except when I'm not."

"Let me try," said Dumbledore, coming to stand between a highly frustrated Snape and an increasingly worried Smythe-White. He drew a deep breath to steady himself and then proposed, "My spells are stronger than yours. Perhaps that will be enough."

Harry, having heard this, spared the headmaster a glance. He watched as Dumbledore pulled his wand out of his bright indigo robes and took aim. He snorted disdainfully and returned his attention to Draco, who was whimpering softly as he stared at his right hand's two broken fingers.

"Where is Hermione?"

"Stupefy!"

Father intercepted Dumbledore's spell as easily as the others. It did, however, note that the headmaster's power output was nearly double Snape's and Smythe-White's combined. Impressive for such an old wizard, but not surprising. Dumbledore was, after all, one of the most power wizards in recent history.

Draco, in the meanwhile, began to beg, "Potter, please--"

Harry sighed and reached out to break the ring finger of Draco's right hand.

"GYAAAAAHHH!!" Draco howled. "Stop! Please! No more! No more!"

"Then tell me where Hermione is," Harry commanded.

"I... I..."

Harry casually gripped Draco's pinkie and snapped it back. He could sense that Draco was getting close to breaking, which is why he reacted so quickly. He did not want to allow Draco any time to collect himself, or his addled wits.

"YYAAAAAAHHHH!!"

"I really don't have the time for this, so hurry up," urged Harry, projecting a sense of boredom into his voice. He hoped that it would give the impression that he could keep this up all day. He had Father release its hold on Draco's right arm, which fell limply to his side, and asked, "Where is Hermione?"

Draco, however, was too busy sobbing to answer coherently. With both arms now free of Father's restraining fields, he clutched his ruined hands to his chest.

Trying to urge him on, Harry threatened, "Don't make me start tearing off body parts."

Draco looked up at him in horror and gasped out, "Y-yuh... you wouldn't... dare..."

Sensing that this was a time when actions would speak louder than words, Harry took a step back. He silently informed Father of what he wanted and watched as a GM field surrounded Draco's left arm and forced it, despite Draco's protests, to extend out to the side.

Clearing his throat, Harry waited. The moment Draco made eye contact, Harry jerked his head to the right. Father's fields pulled on the arm they held and a sick pop sounded throughout the Great Hall as it was wrenched from its socket. The fields immediately released their hold and the newly dislocated arm flopped to Draco's side.

"All together then," ordered Dumbledore over Draco's scream of agony. "Everyone."

"Albus?"

"We have to Minerva."

"But all of us?" McGonagall asked worriedly. She had been the recipient of multiple Stunners the previous school year and had barely come out of the encounter with her life. Despite the fact that Harry was a good deal younger and more resilient than she, such an action made her fear for his safety. "We could seriously hurt the boy."

"If we don't, Potter's going to rip Draco to pieces!" yelled Snape.

"Stop arguing and hurry!" urged Smythe-White, already taking up a position.

"On my signal," Dumbledore said, indicating for McGonagall to take the place between Smythe-White and Professor Sprout. He waited as the various professors spread out, encircling Harry and his prisoner. He lifted his wand and trained it on Harry, who continued his interrogation without paying the professors any heed. "Now!"

"Stupefy!"

The air around Harry was alight with spells, red streaks of magic racing towards him from every direction. But amidst the light, there was a black blur. Father's ever present sphere spiralled around Harry, rising and falling to intercept all the curses before they managed to get within two metres of where the young wizard was standing.

Once all was still again, Dumbledore stared at the tiny black sphere that hovered defiantly before him. The only evidence of their assault was a slight change in the sphere's colour. Where before it had been as black as the depths of space, now the sphere's surface discernibly lighter, more of a charcoal grey.

By now Draco had stopped screaming and hung limply in the air, gasping for breath. Harry stepped close and lifted his chin with a finger, forcing the other wizard to match his gaze.

"Let's make this perfectly clear, Malfoy," he stated with perfect calm. "Your life became forfeit the moment you gave Hermione that Portkey."

With a jerk of his head in the other direction, Harry watched as Father repeated the process and dislocated Draco's right arm. Wincing at the piercing shriek, he turned to one side and took several steps away, so that the noise was not quite at hard on his ears.

He saw Ron, standing nearby, say to nobody in particular, "Gods, he's brutal."

"Yeah," agreed Neville in a hushed voice.

"Wouldn't you be, if you were in his place?" asked Ginny, even though she was looking a bit pale. Harry knew how she felt, but would have to delay any display of weakness until later, when he was alone.

"Definitely," nodded Luna with unwavering conviction. "To protect the woman I love."

"I guess," consented Neville, a bit reluctantly.

"I probably wouldn't be that calm about it," admitted Ron.

"I think that's because Harry's a bit beyond angry at the moment," noted Luna.

Draco had finally stopped screaming, if only to sob incoherently, so Harry turned back to face him. He walked close, so that he did not need to raise his voice. He tapped his foot and waited until Draco glanced up at him. "If I pull much harder they're not going to stay attached. Now, one last time," he said patiently, "Where is Hermione?"

"P-P-Pa-Puh--"

"Malfoy Manor?"

"N-n-nuh-uh," Draco quickly shook his head. Blood, from where he must have bitten his tongue or cheeks, splattered from his lips. He was obviously terrified that lack of a prompt response would result in Harry doing something worse.

"No, that would be too easy," Harry admitted.

After the incident at the Department of Mysteries, Lucius Malfoy's position as one of Voldemort's top Death Eaters had been exposed. As such, the Ministry were keeping a close eye on all the Malfoy estates, just in case he tried to use one as a hideaway after his escape from Azkaban early in the summer.

"Where then?"

"L-luh-lodge," Draco managed to gasp. "P-Parkinson... Lodge... near D-Duh-Dover."

"I expected as much, but had to be sure," nodded Harry. The Parkinson family lodge, which overlooked the white cliffs, had been the location where Hermione had been held in the original time line.

Once confirmation had been made Father pulled up detailed floor plans of the entire building, something Luna's future self had thoughtfully included in its memory store. Each of the half a dozen entrances and exits was marked and various routes throughout the building, for a quick and thorough search, were highlighted.

Harry smiled, both at the fact that he now knew for certain where Hermione was and the fact that he would not be going in blind. He turned from Draco and began to walk to where his friends were waiting. As he walked away, he said, "Thank you. See how easy it is when you cooperate?"

The GM fields holding Draco suspended in the air abruptly ceased and he fell to the floor in a heap.

"Thank God!" exclaimed Dumbledore. "Severus, get Draco out of there!"

"Accio!" said Snape, aiming his wand at his collapsed student.

The Summoning Charm took hold of Draco in much the same was as Father's GM fields had. Draco slid across the floor until he crashed into the professor's feet. Snape pocketed his wand and knelt down next to him, asking if he was all right. Draco ignored him and stared across at Harry.

"Who - who the Hell are you?"

"You know who I am, Malfoy," replied Harry, not bothering to spare Draco so much as a glance as he rejoined his friends near the Gryffindor table. He noted, as he walked, that the other students shied away from him as he passed.

He felt absolutely rotten knowing that they were scared of him like this, but refused to regret his actions. It might not have been subtle, or polite, or noble, or heroic, but it would help save Hermione's life and that was all that concerned him right now.

"No... no, I - I don't b-believe it," Draco argued, being helped into a sitting position by Snape. He shook his head weakly and asserted, "Puh-Potter wuh-would never do this. He... he's the Boy-Who-Lived."

"I'm not a boy," Harry rejoined. "I've grown up."

"Yuh-You're a m-muh-monster."

"If I am," said Harry, pausing to glance directly at Draco, "it's because wizards like you made me into one."

Surprisingly Draco managed to rally his strength and threaten, "I'll... get you for this... Potter!"

Harry regarded him coolly and replied, "Not if I get you first, Malfoy."

He stopped and turning in place, taking in the sight of the watching staff and students. He ducked his head, a mannerism he knew made him look vaguely threatening, and decided to give them all fair warning. "Remember this, and remember it well," he announced loudly, "If any harm whatsoever befalls anyone I consider friend or family, what I'll do to those responsible will make the worst tortures Voldemort could imagine seem like a lover's caress."

He turned back to Malfoy, who's strength had left him whimpering on the foot beside Snape. He matched the blonde's gaze and made a threat of his own, "If I find you've lied to me..."

Malfoy cringed in sheer terror and pressed close to Snape.

"You'd best pray to whatever god or gods you believe in, Malfoy," Harry cautioned darkly, "because if anything has happened to her, you'll need the kind of protection only a deity can provide."

-oOo-

Ron, Ginny, Neville and Luna had watched as Harry questioned Malfoy about Hermione's location. They had watched as the professors tried, unsuccessfully, to stun him. Suffice to say, this was not something that happened every day and was most certainly not what Ron had been expecting when he came to breakfast after being discharged from the Hospital Wing.

Now he, and the others, watched with mounting anticipation as Harry turned away from Malfoy and the various professors, striding purposefully back to the Gryffindor table. He walked right up to where they were standing, acting for all the world as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"I need to get some things from my room," he told them flatly. "Then I'm going to rescue Hermione."

"Quite the contrary, Harry," countered Professor McGonagall. The Transfiguration professor must have been shaken by everything that had just happened, since she actually used his first name. She wagged her cane in Harry's direction and announced, "After that display, you will not be going anywhere!"

"You can't stop me."

"Harry--" began Dumbledore.

"This is not your concern, old man," interrupted Harry. He glared at the headmaster, eyes as cold and dark as obsidian chips, and asserted, "Hermione's safety is my responsibility."

"Harry," insisted Smythe-White quietly, "we need to talk."

"We can talk when I get back. With Hermione."

"We need to talk now," Smythe-White maintained.

"Hermione doesn't have the time."

"Harry, you can't be sure about that!" protested Dumbledore.

"Perfectly sure."

"Rushing out like this is foolish!" yelled McGonagall, so flustered that her normal composure had been thrown out the window. "You have no idea what you might be getting into!"

"It's most likely a trap," agreed Snape, still kneeling next to the fallen Malfoy. "Just like last year, with Black, at the Ministry."

Harry regarded the professors narrowly for a moment, a hint of fire in his dark green eyes. Finally he turned away from them and back to Ron and the others, saying, "A lot has happened since last year."

This was something that Ron felt nobody could disagree with.

Dumbledore tried to approach Harry, apparently feeling it safe to do so now that Harry was among his friends and not breaking Malfoy's fingers like Muggle matchsticks. He held out his hands, palms up, as he walked and said, "Harry, you can't--"

Harry, however, did not seem willing to listen. Before the headmaster could say more, the air around him rippled and he was knocked back with enough force to lift him off his feet.

Everyone watched in shock as Dumbledore landed with a loud oof and a sharp crack.

"Ah!"

"Albus!" cried McGonagall, rushing to where he had fallen.

"I think... my hip..." Dumbledore gasped in pain.

"Somebody get Madam Pomfrey!"

A growing sense of frantic panic seemed to fill the Great Hall. Things had been getting steadily unsettled ever since Harry had first started shouting. Malfoy's questioning had only served to exerberate matters, as had the professors' attempts at subduing Harry. Now, this assault on the headmaster was bringing it all to a head.

Smythe-White, however, seemed to keep his head. Ignoring the other professors as they crowded around Dumbledore, he tried to talk to Harry. His voice was soft as he cautiously addressed the Boy-Who-Lived. "Harry, be reasonable."

"I'm being perfectly reasonable," Harry replied calmly. "It's the situation that's unreasonable." He glanced to where the professors were grouped and shook his head. "I'm going to fix that. Since you lot seem incapable of doing so."

With the same strange springing sound that had heralded its arrival during the Sorting, a two-metre wide shiny ball of energy ballooned into existence. It appeared between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables, not far from where the Ministry Crew were standing.

"Come on, you lot," said Harry, motioning for them to go through the Gate that had just opened. "We don't have time to waste."

"Are you sure this thing's safe?" Ron asked, not to sure about it. Harry might have used these Gates on a more or less regular basis since the start of summer, but Ron remained dubious about them. He could still remember their trip on the Knight Bus and was thus less than eager to try some unknown form of transport, regardless of whether or not Harry could vouch for it.

His query was answered by Father, who's dark grey sphere shot forward and smacked painfully against Ron's noggin. Having made its point, it drifted back to its usual position above and behind Harry's shoulder.

"Ouch!" Ron exclaimed, rubbing at his now aching forehead. He looked unhappily at the sphere and relented, "All right, I'm sure it's perfectly safe!"

Being closest to the Gate, Ron was the first to stumble through it. The sensation was unlike anything else he had felt before, feeling rather like having to press against a strong wind. After that it was rather like suddenly flipping upside down for an instant, before dropping to the ground with a thud.

Strangely enough, despite the last second twist, Ron made it through the Gate without missing a step. He did stumble, but that was mostly because the rapidity with which he was displaced unsettled his still healing legs. He looked around and saw that he had emerged in the sixth-year Gryffindor boys' dormitory.

"Bloody hell!" he exclaimed.

A second after getting his bearing, Ginny emerged and almost tripped over him. She gave him a shove, getting them both out of the way as Luna and then Neville made their appearances. Last came Harry, who stepped through the Gate with the same ease as most people moved from one room to another. The shiny sphere of energy shrank in on itself and disappeared with a wet pop a second later.

"So," asked Ron, once the Gate had closed, "what now?"

"Now, will someone please hand me that bin?" asked Harry, pointing at the nearest dustbin, which happened to be the one next to Dean's desk.

Ron exchanged a puzzled look with the others, but shrugged. Seeing as he was closest to the item in question, Neville picked up the dustbin and passed it to Harry, saying, "Here you go."

Harry accepted the dustbin and said, "Thanks."

"What are you going to do with that?" asked Ron.

Harry answered by sitting on the edge of his bed and placing the dustbin between his knees. He took several deep breaths and then hunch over it just in time to empty the contents of his stomach.

Ron winced and backed away, exclaiming, "Ugh! Gross!"

"Harry, what's wrong?" asked Ginny.

"I just tortured someone," Harry replied once he stopped throwing up. He straightened and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his robe. "Forgive me if I'm a little queasy about it."

"It was only Malfoy," Ron tried to console him.

"I broke eight of his fingers and dislocated both his arms," Harry listed, his voice sounding detached as he stared more or less vacantly into space. "The only reason I didn't use the Cruciatus Curse is because there were witnesses and I don't think I'd have an easy time rescuing Hermione while being held by Ministry for use of an Unforgivable."

"As you've said before, Harry," Luna told him gently, "Necessity."

"Maybe," Harry accepted, "but it's still a bitter potion to swallow, Doc."

Not wanting to have to deal with this now, he was more a man of action really, Ron tried to get back to the more important matter of rescuing Hermione from the Death Eaters.

"So now what?"

Harry's response was not what Ron had been expecting. He started to, of all things, undress. He jerked off his robes first, tossing them aside, and then pulled his sweater over his head - not bothering to take off his glasses before doing so.

Ron looked worriedly at his friend and asked, "Er... Harry?"

Without answering, Harry pulled his shirt over his head and off, not even bothering to undo the buttons. It followed his robe and sweater, landing on the growing heap of clothes to one side.

"Take it off!" urged Luna eagerly, pumping a fist into the air.

"Yeah!" Ginny readily agreed.

"Ginny!" protested Ron. "Cover you eyes!" He tried to cover his sister's eyes, but she squirmed and wiggle away from him. With his legs still not working normally, Ron could not follow quickly enough to stop her from seeing Harry kick off his shoes and pull down his trousers. "Harry, stop that, you pervert!"

"Not now, Ron," Harry answered. "I'm in a hurry."

"Harry, what are you doing?" asked Neville curiously. "I don't think Hermione would appreciate you rescuing her in your underwear."

"You never know," said Luna.

"I need to change and can't waste the time it would take ushering you all outside," explained Harry, tossing his discarded trousers onto the heap of clothes.

Ron stared at him, his over-protective brotherly instincts fuelling his outrage, and demanded, "And that's reason enough to prance around starkers in front of my baby sister?"

Ginny took offence to this and hit Ron, not too gently, on the shoulder, protesting, "I'm not a baby, Ron!"

"And Harry's not quite starkers yet," added Luna helpfully.

Harry, in the meantime, had kicked open his truck. He rooted inside it for a moment or two before pulling out a small, obviously Muggle-made, rucksack, which he deposited on his bed.

Watching as Harry pulled back the top and undid the drawstring beneath, Neville asked, "What's in that?"

"A change of clothes."

"Aw, but you haven't taken your boxers off yet," bemoaned Luna, sounding very disappointed.

"Well, hurry up and change!" urged Ron, who had been trying unsuccessfully to cover Ginny's eyes this entire time. He was panting from the exertion of forcing his unsteady legs to move about so quickly.

Harry replied with an aggravatingly smug smirk (or so it seemed to Ron) and began tugging on a pair of close fitting, black trousers.

"What about us?" asked Neville. "Should we change?"

"Not when Ginny's in the same room!" yelled Ron, smacking him on the back of the head for daring to suggest such a thing. Honestly, did none of his friends have any sense of decency?

"Come on, Ron," drawled Ginny, "you don't have anything I haven't seen before."

"WHAT?!"

Ron's thoughts immediately ran to Ginny's former boyfriend, Michael Corner. Until Ginny had started dating him the previous year, without permission from her older and wiser brothers, Ron had never heard of the Ravenclaw wizard. Now, he started to wonder just what sort of person Corner was and how Ginny might have come to see his 'bits'.

He glanced at Harry, who was now sitting on his bed and slipping his feet into some thick soled boots that seem large enough to fit a troll.

Seeing that his best friend was not going to do anything to avenge Corner's soiling of Ginny's innocence, Ron decided that he would have do accomplish that task alone. He would run, or hobble as it were, back down to the Great Hall and kill the bloke. Of course, he would have to wait until they got back from rescuing Hermione...

"You don't need to change," said Harry, answering Neville's earlier question.

"Okay," Neville accepted, "So, how are we going to get there?" he asked, moving to sit on his own bed. He plonked down and finished by saying, "It's a long way to Dover, y'know."

"And none of us know how to Apparate," put in Ginny, sitting on Dean's empty bed.

"Even if we knew, we can't Apparate on school grounds," Luna reminded them all, sitting next to Ginny and slinging an arm around the other girl's shoulders. "It says so in Hogwarts, A History."

Ron's thoughts of how to make Michael Corner suffer were temporarily disrupted by this pronouncement. He looked askance at the blonde Ravenclaw witch and groaned to the heavens, "Gods, not another one."

Harry had by now pulled on a tight grey t-shirt, which clung to him like a second skin and highlighted every sinewy muscle on his slender frame. He was now tugging a close-knit black sweater over his head.

"We could use brooms," suggested Neville.

"Do you remember your first flying lesson?" asked Ron, before turning his mind back to the task of chasing down Ginny's ex-boyfriend and castrating him with blunt cutlery. Perhaps he should get the twins to help. "You took to the air like an anvil."

"It couldn't have been that bad," said Ginny, disbelievingly.

"Actually... it was worse," admitted Neville.

Luna had obviously been thinking about the problem of their transportation and perked up as she suggested, "How about the Thestrals? We could--"

She was cut off by Harry, who said, "You needn't bother."

"Pardon?"

"You won't be using a Portkey, or Apparation, or broomsticks, or Thestrals or even that old enchanted car of your dad's," listed Harry, getting up from his bed and crossing over to his trunk again.

"But, then what will--"

"Simple," he said calmly, "You're not going."

All thoughts of murdering or otherwise maiming Michael Corner fled Ron's mind in an instant as he whirled around to stare disbelievingly at Harry.

"WHAT?!"

-oOo-

Harry ignored the fact that his friends were staring at him in disbelief. Or at least Ron, Ginny and Neville were. Luna, for her part, was gently pulling at Ginny's hair, seemingly fascinated by the red locks. Some small amount of good cheer returned to him as he noticed this, pleased that his friend would at least have a chance this time round.

He returned his focus to the bullet-proof jacket that he was struggling to put on. He had 'borrowed' it from a Los Angeles SWAT team during the summer, week after his birthday in fact. He had no idea if the Muggle armour would provide any protection against the Death Eaters' spells, but thought it wouldn't hurt to try.

A few sputtered protests, mostly from Ron, reminded him that his friends were still struggling with the concept that he was not going to be taking them with him.

"You're not going," he repeated.

"Why not?!" demanded Ron, his face turning a nice shade of puce.

"Because none of you have ever been in a real fight."

"What about at the Department of Mysteries, last year?" asked Ginny indignantly from her spot on Dean's bed.

Harry peered at her from over the frame of his glasses and countered, "That wasn't a fight. It was, at most, a scuffle. Hell, we spent most of our time running away!"

Ron was continuing to sputter, growing more incoherent as he went on. Ginny and Neville were visibly affronted by the idea that they could not take care of themselves in a scrape. The only one of the four that did not react to his statement was Luna, who was continuing to play with a strand of Ginny's hair.

"You can't honestly think we're going to let you do this alone!" protested Ginny as Harry began to check the straps and other adjustable fixtures of his new apparel.

"We're coming with you!" asserted Neville staunchly.

"Damn right we are!"

"You're staying," Harry insisted calmly.

"Harry--"

"This isn't open for debate," Harry cut Ron off. His voice made it plain that there was no room for compromise in this matter. "I'm going after her alone."

Harry reached back into the rucksack and pulled out a small white container that fit snugly in his palm. He set it down on his knee and then took off his glasses, which Father helpfully shifted into subspace. Opening the container, Harry squinted and tried to make out the contents.

These were a pair of Muggle contact lenses that he had bought over the summer. He had long since learnt that his glasses were a liability in a fight. If they were lost or broken, he was left practically blind. This was a temporary solution to prevent that from happening, provided that he wasn't jostled about hard enough to knock the contacts out.

There were, he knew, several ways to correct impaired vision through magic. His future self had looked into the possibility several times, but never actually gone through with it. The problem was that the magic was often not only incredibly painful, often compared to the Cruciatus Curse, but temperamental to boot.

"But why?" asked Neville, returning to the topic of Harry's refusal to take his friends into the proverbial lion's den. Or in this case, the proverbial snake's nest.

"I already explained," he answered, slipping the right contact lens in. He had practiced the motion several times over the summer and was now quite good at it.

"Bullshit, Harry," snapped Ginny. "Saying that we don't have enough experience is pure bullshit! Maybe we don't, but you sure as hell don't have any more than we do!"

"Maybe not," Harry agreed, "but I do have something you don't."

"What?" asked Ron.

Seeing that Harry was busying putting the left contact lens in, Luna answered for him.

"Father."

"Luna's right," said Harry, blinking several times to make sure both lenses were properly settled. Seeing that the world was looking particularly crisp in all directions, he stood up from where he had been sitting on his bed. As he did so, he elaborated, "Father's more than enough to protect me and keep the Death Eaters busy while I find Hermione and get her out of there."

"Still--"

"Dammit Ron," he snapped "just accept it, will you?"

Seeing his friend jerk back at the sharpness in his voice, Harry forced himself to relax. He took a deep breath, reminding himself that Ron was just as worried about Hermione as he was and needed to do something, anything, to feel that he was helping to bring her back safe and sound.

"Try to understand," he pleaded, "I'm not planning on going in there, wand at the ready."

"Then how are you going in?" asked Ginny.

"Guns blazing."

"Guns blazing?" repeated Neville.

Harry nodded and then hit upon the idea of giving them an idea of what he planned to do. A moment later Father shifted Fred and George's phased plasma rifle into real space. Harry plucked it from the air, where it had been hovering in front of him, and held it up for them to see.

"There's going to be a lot more than spells flying through the air," he informed them seriously. He shook his head and added, unable to keep the worry out of his voice, "I don't want to risk accidentally hitting one of you."

"Not if we stay right next to you," said Ron.

"Right by your side," agreed Ginny.

"Even with Father, you'll need someone to cover your back," added Neville.

Harry lowered the rifle and stood for a moment, considering the three of them. He knew how stubborn they could be, Ron in particular. Ginny, being a Weasley, was almost as bad as her brother. Probably worse at times. And Neville, once he got his mind set on a task, could match either of them.

He knew that nothing he could say now would change their minds. Of the four of them, only Luna would be willing to abide by his decision to do this alone, and even then he had a feeling she would argue against it. The only way he could satisfy them, would be to bring them along...

His thoughts trailed off about now as a possible solution presented itself. It was sneaky. It was devious. It was more than a little Slytherin. He had to force himself not to smile.

"All right," he relented, slinging the rifle over his shoulder by its strap. "You can come. Just try not to get killed."

"Damn right!" exclaimed Ron.

"What are we waiting for?" asked Neville eagerly.

Harry sighed and asked, "Do you have your wands?"

Ginny nodded and pulled her wand from a pocket. "Of course."

Ron and Neville held up their wands as well, while Luna simply turned her head so that Harry could see that her wand was tucked behind her ear, as usual.

"Okay," he order, making sure to sound resigned about including them, "Take off your robes, they'll restrict your movement too much."

His friends quickly cast their robes aside without question, though Harry noticed that Luna cast him a knowing expression as she did so. He knew then that she had worked out what he had planned. He could only hope she would go along with it.

"You're too brightly coloured," he said, indicating their clothes. While none of them could compare to the overly cheerful wardrobe Dumbledore frequently wore, they were not what you would call inconspicuous. "They'll spot you coming a mile away." Harry drew his wand from where he had strapped it to his left forearm. Waving it at them, he projected his magic into the holly and incanted, "Darken,"

Immediately their clothes changed from light to dark colours. Dark blues, greens, browns and greys for the most part. There were a few patches of black here and there, but not an overwhelming amount.

"Better," he concluded after a brief examination.

"Interesting spell," commented Luna. "Not very Latin in origin."

"It's the thought behind the spell, not the incantation, Luna. You know that," he replied. "The words are just another way for the wizard to focus his magic."

"Or her magic."

"Or her magic."

"Well, what are we waiting for?" asked Ron. "Let's go!"

"Okay, next stop, Parkinson Lodge."

Harry was quickly giving Father the details of his plan, when his friends seemed to realise that they had not yet discussed their means of transport. Apparently they had, in the excitement, forgotten how Harry had gotten them from the Great Hall to the dormitories.

Ron looked about and asked, "So how're we going to get there?"

"Easy, I'll have Father open a Gate," Harry answered.

"What do we do once we arrive?" asked Luna curiously.

"Rescue Hermione."

"We know that," said Ginny dryly. "How?"

"By killing everyone there who isn't Hermione."

Harry's answer was perfectly serious and delivered with no variation in tone. He might as well have been commenting on the weather, rather than the fact that he was planning to kill every Death Eater that crossed his path.

Ron stared at him, his eyes so wide that they appeared to be in imminent danger of popping out of their sockets. He gaped for several seconds, mouth working silently, before asking incredulously, "What?"

"That's another reason why I didn't want you coming, old friend," Harry told him softly. He really wished that there was another way to do this, but if there was, he could not see it. He had to protect his friends. At any cost. "The kid gloves have come off. I'm not taking any prisoners."

The others considered this revelation, Ron, Ginny and Neville paling slightly. Luna seemed to be thinking it over, but did not appear overly troubled by the idea. Harry knew that she understood how he could be like this. If it were Ginny that had been taken, Luna would react in the exact same manner.

Neville was the first to recover. He nodded his head in resolution and spoke with all the conviction he could muster. "If that's what it takes."

"Anything to stop them from doing that to Hermione," agreed Ginny.

"Let's stop wasting time and get on with it!" yelled Ron.

Seeing their determination, not to mention their enthusiasm, Harry almost decided to change his course of action. In the end though, he decided not to risk it. One of his best friends, and potentially much more than that, was already in worse than mortal peril. He had no desire to put any of his remaining friends in the same position.

A silent command to Father and another remote Gate sprang into being. It appeared in the centre of the room, giving Ron a bit of a start. Harry motioned at the shimmering sphere and said, "You go first, I'll follow. I can't keep the Gate open for long after I've gone through."

This was a blatant lie, but since not of his friends knew Father's full capabilities, Harry knew they would not question it. He waited patiently for them to move.

Ron, raising his wand over his head and cried out, "For Hermione!"

"For Hermione!" yelled Ginny and Neville, also lifting their wands as they took up the cheer.

Harry watched with some amusement as Ron took a running jump through the Gate, followed closely by Neville and then Ginny. He turned to Luna, who was standing to one side and looking expectantly at him.

"Something wrong, Doc?" he asked.

"This doesn't lead to Parkinson Lodge, does it?"

"No, it doesn’t."

"Where then?"

"Someplace safe," he assured her. "I prepared it over the summer, just in case."

"Will you be long?"

"Hopefully not."

"See you in a bit then," Luna nodded and then stepped through the Gate, walking as calmly and easily as if she were stepping from one room to another.

Harry waited until she was firmly on the other side. He could see her distorted reflection joining up with the others. Turning his back to the Gate, he ordered Father to close it down, effectively stranding his friends where he had tricked them into going.

"Right," he said to himself, "now that they're out of harm's way, time for me to step right into it."

With a nod to the charcoal colour sphere hovering by his shoulder, Harry readied himself. Setting the coordinated to a spot just outside Parkinson Lodge, Father opened a Gate around them and they disappeared with a soft pop.

-oOo-

Hermione slowly returned to consciousness, feeling as though she were awakening from a deep, but fitful sleep. She knew almost immediately that something was wrong, since she was fairly certain that she was not waking up in her bed. Without opening her eyes she tried to remember how she had gotten to wherever she was.

Her memories, however, were not cooperating. The last thing she could clearly remember was saying goodbye to Harry as he and Ginny went down to the Great Hall for breakfast. They were planning on meeting Luna along the way and then going to see if Ron would be able to join them.

After that things were a little hazy. She could vaguely recall leaving the common room and making her way to the library to return her books. She had been carrying three of them. Two on Arithmancy and one on Ancient Runes. But after that things got a little unclear.

"Ah, our guest is finally awake."

This somewhat familiar voice was enough to shake Hermione more fully into the world of the living. She opened her eyes, a bit blearily, and found herself staring up at none other than Lucius Malfoy. Suffice to say, any weariness she might have been feeling was removed as she went from drowsy to wide awake almost instantly.

Seeing that she was now properly awake, Lucius greeted, "Good morning, Miss Granger."

Hermione quickly took stock of her situation. She was sitting in a chair, her arms and legs restrained by thick leather straps, preventing her from moving more than an inch in any direction. The room which she was being kept in was tastefully decorated in rich mahogany panels and a lush maroon carpet.

There were four Death Eaters present, including Lucius. Two were standing to her left, one of them leaning lazily against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. The third was to her right and was watching her with a hungry expression that did nothing to calm her nervous.

With a resounding smack, Lucius' open hand slapped across her face.

"I said, 'good morning', mudblood!" he snapped. "I suggest you return the courtesy."

"Where am I?

Lucius responded by slapping her again, this time a little harder than before. Hermione cried out, despite having seen the blow coming this time. She could taste the sharp tang of blood filling her mouth as she bit her cheek.

As she shook her head in an attempt to regain her bearings, she had the distracted thought that being slapped was an unpleasant experience. If this was how Draco and Snape felt, she decided, then she could understand why they had made sure not to get to close to her afterwards.

"I thought, from what Draco said, that you were supposed to be fairly intelligent. I am beginning to doubt that," Lucius informed her. He paused and then said, "Now, again, 'good morning'."

"G-good morning," Hermione answered, resisting the urge to spit out the blood filling her mouth. She had a feeling that would most likely earn her another slap.

"Excellent."

Seeing that he was pleased by her timid response, Hermione decided to risk repeating her earlier question and asked, "Where am I?"

Lucius arched an eyebrow and raised his hand up, as if to slap her again. Hermione cringed, anticipating the blow, but was surprised to feel the tips of his fingers tenderly stroking her cheek. Thinking about who it was that was now touching her, she thought that she would have preferred to have him slap her.

"You, my lovely creature," Lucius answered, "are our guest here."

"Where is here?"

"Someplace a long way from Hogwarts," he said with a superior smirk. He then leaned in close to her, his hand slipped up her cheek and caressed a lock of her hair. Brining it to his nose Lucius breathed deeply, inhaling her scent, and after a moment asked, "Strawberry?" He looked surprised for some reason. "Odd, from Draco's description of you, I would have expected the smell of musty old books."

"Draco's an idiot," Hermione countered unhappily.

"Is he?" asked Lucius, amused. "Odd that you should say so. After all, for an 'idiot' he certainly managed to snare you easily enough."

"He tossed a Portkey at me and then activated it," she retorted scathingly, more angry at herself for falling for such a trick, than at Draco for pulling it off. "A trained monkey could have done the same."

Lucius' smile disappeared, replaced by an unhappy scowl. He pulled hard on Hermione's hair, which he still held in his hand, causing her to cry out in pain. He tugged so that she was forced to twist her head forward and down, looking up at him with teary eyes.

"You have a loose tongue, bitch," Lucius growled, his breath hot against her face. He let go of her hair and took a step back, a cruel smile spreading across his face as he said, "Rest assured I'll soon be finding a better use for it!"

"You won't get away with this," she gasped out, her scalp throbbing painfully.

"Oh don't be melodramatic," Lucius scoffed. "I already have." Rising up to his full height, he gestured around him, encompassing entire room and the building beyond, and declared, "Nobody, other than my son, knows of our location. Dumbledore will not be able to find you in time to save you."

"Harry will find me," Hermione asserted.

"Potter?" asked Lucius disdainfully. He snorted and shook his head, "That idiot boy has less chance of finding us than Dumbledore. Even if he did, by some miracle, discover where we are - we're a thousand miles from Hogwarts."

"He will come for me," Hermione resolutely maintained.

"I doubt it," Lucius sneered as he gestured at the other three Death Eaters. "As you can see, there are four of us here. And another two keeping watch in the rest of the house, and another four that will be arriving shortly." He then turned back to her and concluded, "That's ten fully training wizards standing guard over you, girl. If Potter does try to rescue you, rest assured; he will fail."

Even Hermione, as confident as she was in Harry's abilities, had her doubts about his ability to take on ten Death Eaters without help. Of course, the rest of the Ministry Crew would doubtless follow Harry, but even then it would be two to one in the Death Eaters' favour.

Deciding to get what information she could, as it might prove useful in the future, Hermione slyly asked, "Why another four? Afraid you can't handle me with only six of you?"

To her chagrin, Lucius and the other Death Eaters burst into raucous laughter. Hermione had been expecting some amusement at the assumption, or even another slap, but she had not thought they would find the idea that amusing.

"Hardly," Lucius finally managed, once his laughter had died away. He smiled at her, the same, ugly and cruel smile he had worn when hinting earlier to what he and his friends planned to do her. "Our companions are currently fetching something of yours."

"What?" she asked, a feeling of dread suddenly filling her chest.

"Your parents."

Her mouth went dry and if she had not already been strapped down, Hermione would probably have fallen to the ground as her entire being went numb. She managed a weak protest of, "No."

Lucius' cruel smile deepened as he went on, explaining, "It was not difficult to find out where you live, girl. Our access to Ministry records is currently somewhat limited, true, but more than enough for our purposes."

"Why? Why my parents?" she asked.

"To complete your abject humiliation," he replied matter-of-factly.

"What?"

"Nott and the other three are currently at your home in Suffolk, where they will capture your parents and bring them here," Lucius explained with obvious relish. To Hermione's disgust, he actually licked his lips in some disgusted kind of anticipation. "I had planned on simply killing them and forcing you to watch, but decided instead to have them watch as my friends and I enjoy ourselves with you."

Hermione gagged in horror at this revelation, but managed to keep her stomach down. The idea of having her parents watch as she was raped by these monsters was almost more than she could contemplate.

Lucius, seeing her distress, continued, "Once we have had our fill with you, for now, then I shall take great pleasure killing them both in the most painful manner possible before your very eyes."

"No, please..."

"Perhaps I will have their heads owled to Potter," he mused thoughtfully, stroking his chin, "alongside the recordings of your new station in life."

She had an incongruous thought that, all things considered, she would rather not have her abject humiliation (as Lucius put it) recorded and then sent to Harry.

Lucius made a note of the time, checking it on an elegant golden pocket watch. He turned to his companions and mentioned, "Everything is ready here, we're just waiting for Nott to return." He then eyed Hermione lustfully and suggested, "Let us amuse ourselves in the meanwhile."

"I thought we were going to wait till her parents were here?" asked the Death Eater that had, until now, been leaning against the wall.

"We are," confirmed Lucius.

"But--"

"Watch and learn, Cowan," Lucius interrupted. He drew his wand from an inside pocket and waved it in Hermione's direction. The straps restraining her to the chair undid themselves. Before she could move, he aimed the wand at her chest and said, "Imperio!"

A wonderful feeling of warmth and contentment swept over Hermione, a bliss that was all pervading. She could remember the sensation from her fourth year, when the Moody impostor had cast the Imperious Curse on each of his students. Nothing she did had allowed her to resist the spell. In fact, the only one who had any success doing so was Harry.

"Now, my little mudblood whore," announced Lucius with a lecherous smirk. "Dance for me. Dance and show us what lies hidden beneath that robe of yours."

Unable to resist, the compulsion was too much, Hermione pushed herself to her feet and walked to where Lucius was standing, watching her expectantly. She swayed her hips in a seductive manner as she slinked towards him, something she would never have even contemplated otherwise.

She pressed close to him, the tips of her breasts just grazing against him. Trailing a hand seductively down his chest, Hermione matched his smouldering gaze with a wanton expression of her own. Stepping back, giving herself room to dance, she found herself screaming inside as her body began to sway to a silent beat...

TBC...  

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