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Chapter 16: Decision

"You saw You-Know-Who?" said Ron in astonishment. "But I thought he was supposed to be dead!"

"I guess not," said Harry bleakly. "Not if he’s running around the Forbidden Forest drinking unicorn blood."

Ron made a face. "That’s sick. Why would he want to do that?"

"Unicorn blood is very powerful," explained Hermione. "It’ll keep you alive even if you’re just about to die, but it puts a curse on your life forever."

"He’s probably after the — you-know-what," said Harry. "On the third floor. If he gets that, it’ll mean he can never die."

"As long as he’s got it," said Hermione. "You have to keep drinking the stuff, it wears off after a while. But the... you-know-what... can always make more — that’s part of why it’s so magical."

The portrait hole opened and Draco climbed through. "Better?" Hermione asked him.

"Good as new."

"How’s Neville?" asked Ron.

"He’s fine, he just had a couple of cuts from branches and things, but Madam Pomfrey insisted on treating him, and he was so tired from running all that way that he fell asleep as soon as he got on the bed, so he’s spending the night there. And Moony said, quote, ‘Go to bed and that’s an order, you can talk it to death in the morning.’"

The four looked at each other.

"Right," said Harry after a moment, and went over to the wall by the fireplace. "Thank you, Godric."

He said go to bed. He didn’t say where.

xXxXx

"Chocolate Frog," said Aletha to a certain gargoyle, which politely leapt out of her way. She stepped onto the slowly turning spiral staircase behind it, Sirius only a step behind her, Remus behind him. At the top, she knocked at the wooden door, hearing the conversation within cease as she did.

"Come in," called Dumbledore’s voice, and Aletha pushed the door open. The Headmaster rose from behind his desk to greet them. "Aletha, Sirius, Remus, what an unexpected pleasure."

"I hope we’re not keeping you from your bed," said Aletha, frowning a little at the dressing gown Dumbledore was wrapped in. An unexpected pleasure, is it? Then why don’t you look surprised to see us?

"I don’t care if we are," said Sirius angrily. "What the hell were you thinking, sending first years into a Forest with something running around that dropped two unicorns?"

Dumbledore looked quietly grieved. "The second one is dead, then."

"Yes, it’s dead," confirmed Remus. "Harry and Draco found it. And they also found something else. Or should I say, someone." He looked Dumbledore in the eye. "Voldemort’s back. He was in the Forest. Using unicorn blood to stay alive."

Dumbledore stood still for a moment, his eyes introspective. "This is foul news indeed," he said softly. "Fouler than you know."

"Enlighten us, then," said Sirius, still with traces of a dog-like snarl in his voice.

"We have no way of knowing precisely what happened when the Killing Curse rebounded from Harry and struck Lord Voldemort," began Dumbledore, returning to his seat behind his desk and motioning the Marauders to chairs as well. "Many people believe Voldemort was killed that night. In light of what you claim, this cannot be true, and I have long discounted it for other reasons. Nor do I believe he was merely weakened by it. Instead, after study, I have determined that the most likely outcome was that Voldemort’s spirit — his soul — survived, but was torn from his body, which was destroyed by the Curse."

Sirius shook his head. "That can’t be right. He has a body — I almost got my teeth into it tonight."

"And if he has no body, how could the unicorn blood do him any good?" asked Aletha. "Something’s not right here."

"Possession," said Remus quietly. "He’s using someone else’s body."

"So I believe." Dumbledore steepled his fingers. "But this conclusion, in turn, brings up a host of other questions. Is the possession willing or unwilling? How was it accomplished? And, of course, the ultimate question."

Sirius nodded grimly. "Who is it, you mean."

"Indeed." Dumbledore looked unusually somber. "Indeed."

xXxXx

Harry yawned and stretched, carefully edging his arm out from under Hermione. Ron, beside her, was sprawled across more of the mattress-like floor than seemed physically possible, snoring lustily. On Harry’s other side lay Draco, curled up on his side as usual, breathing peacefully.

Harry thought back to the night before, when Draco had taken him aside, into the red bedroom, to tell him something...

xXxXx

"I’m sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"I didn’t help you. I should have fought. But I was too afraid." Draco’s face was set, and Harry knew it must be costing him to admit this. He took a breath as if to say something else, then changed his mind and dropped to one knee instead, tilting his head back.

Punish me if you think it right, he was saying silently. You are my leader. Do what you want with me.

"No," said Harry, and stepped closer to put his hand on the back of Draco’s neck, the place of approval, not of punishment. "You didn’t do anything wrong. Anyone would have been scared. I was scared." He held Draco’s eyes with his own, willing his brother to see that he meant what he was saying. "You didn’t do anything wrong."

Draco bowed his head, accepting his alpha’s judgment, and they stayed that way for one long moment. Then they returned to the main room, to Ron and Hermione, to talk, and, eventually, to sleep.

xXxXx

I was scared. But I think I would have been more scared if I hadn’t been hurting so much...

Harry looked at his watch. Good thing it’s Saturday. We’d be late for class otherwise.

As it is...

He got up and went into the kitchen. Now’s my chance.

He turned the knob on one of the burners on the range and was immediately rewarded with a steady flame.

Nice. Don’t even have to wait for it to light.

He shut it off and started poking around the cupboards. There was plenty of cookware — pots, pans, and a full set of knives, which were quite sharp, Harry discovered, testing them as Danger had taught him, rubbing his thumb across the blade crosswise and noticing the tiny pile of skin shavings that accumulated. There were mixing bowls and wooden spoons, a rolling pin and a cutting board, even an iron kettle, and he noticed for the first time that a small fireplace was built into the wall beside the stove, and that a hob hung above it.

You could make just about anything in here. If you had ingredients.

That was what was missing from the kitchen. There was no food anywhere.

Of course not. You don’t leave food in a place you’re not coming back to. And it has to have been a while since people used this place last...

Harry left the kitchen, skirted around his still-sleeping Pack, and went almost directly across the room to the door of the green bedroom. "Al?" he said when he’d shut the door behind him. "You around?"

"Where else would I be?" asked Al, sticking his head into his frame. "What’s on your mind?"

"Who used this place before we did?"

"Oh, various and sundry, different types." Al came all the way into the frame and leaned on it. "No one interesting, really. Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering how long it’s been since someone last used this place." Harry sat down on the bed. "It looks really clean — it always looks really clean — but there’s nothing in the bathroom — nothing personal, I mean, there’s supplies in there, toilet paper and stuff like that, but no toothbrushes or anything." He looked around the bedroom, realizing something. "There’s nothing in any of the bedrooms, either. Or the kitchen."

"What were you expecting?"

"Well, there’s usually food in a kitchen somewhere."

Al gave a lopsided grin. "Touché."

"What?"

"French for ‘you got me.’ You’re right — there usually is food in a kitchen — but the house-elves know about this place, and they cleaned it out when the last person from the last group to use it died."

"Died? Then it has been a while."

"Between you and me, it certainly has. I was getting pretty lonely under there." Al waved at the bed. "Couldn’t even get to anyone else’s portrait to visit, since I wasn’t on a wall. Thanks for doing that, by the way."

"You’re welcome."

"So, to answer the question you’re probably about to ask — the fireplace in the kitchen has a one-way Floo connection down to the Hogwarts kitchens. You can Floo there from here, but not the other way around."

Harry frowned. "That’s pretty stupid — what if someone needed to get here in a hurry?"

"Oh, they’d figure something out," said Al lightly. "At any rate, if you want some food, just stick your head in the fire and tell the house-elves what you need. They’ll be only too happy to bring it up — and one of the cupboards has a fresh-keeping charm on it for leftovers and perishable stuff, eggs and milk and such. You can’t miss it, it’s the one that feels cold inside."

"Thanks." Harry got to his feet and was halfway out the door before he remembered. "Al?"

"Hmm?"

"Danger said to say she says hi back."

Al looked puzzled for a moment. "She said to say she says... have you ever considered a career as a tongue-twister writer?"

"Rubber baby buggy bumpers," said Harry promptly.

"She sells seashells by the seashore," Al countered. "And do your parents know you’re cooking?"

"Who said I was cooking? I’ll ask the house-elves to bring us up some breakfast."

Al rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Just don’t overtax the safety charms — they can’t keep you from burning yourself forever."

"I’ll keep that in mind." Harry closed the door behind himself.

xXxXx

"Were you in the Den?" asked Neville under his breath when the still-pajamaed foursome arrived in the common room nearly an hour later.

"Mm-hmm." Draco looked around at the common room, which at the moment looked and sounded something like a shaken beehive. "What’s going on?"

"Hagrid didn’t show up to breakfast, and he’s not in his house. The teachers are all out looking for him."

"Let’s get dressed," said Harry, swallowing hard on a feeling of worry. "See you in a minute, Neville."

"Oh, I hope he’s all right," said Hermione anxiously.

"Me too." Draco went up the stairs two at a time. Ron followed just as quickly. Harry lagged behind a little, trying not to think of Hagrid lost in the Forest —

But that was ridiculous. Hagrid practically lived in the Forest, he knew it better than anyone. There was no way he could have gotten lost there. So if he hadn’t showed up to breakfast, and he wasn’t in his house...

This isn’t helping.

Because the only reason Hagrid wouldn’t have come back was if he couldn’t. If he was hurt.

Or worse than hurt. The image of the dead unicorn kept flashing through Harry’s mind, and the thing that had drunk its blood... the thing which must have been Voldemort...

And he’s after the Sorcerer’s Stone...

Harry recalled what Moony had told him. "A series of enchantments and magical safeguards have been placed on it. I helped with the safeguarding — the whole Pack did..."

Dumbledore trusts the Pack. Like he trusts Hagrid.

What if Hagrid knew something about how to get past one of the safeguards on the Stone?

But Hagrid’s not even a full wizard. What would he have been able to do to safeguard...

Harry cursed under his breath.

"What’s wrong?" asked Ron, who was tying his shoes.

"That three-headed dog," said Harry furiously, yanking on his robes. "We should have known."

"Should have known what?" asked Draco from behind him.

"What d’you want to bet it belongs to Hagrid?"

Ron dropped his shoelaces. "You think You-Know-Who tried to get Hagrid to tell him how to get past it?"

Harry nodded. At that moment, there was a commotion in the common room. Draco leapt off his bed and yanked the door open, Harry and Ron right behind him. They piled out onto the staircase. Halfway down, Ron tripped, fell onto Harry and Draco, and the three of them tumbled all the rest of the way down the stairs.

Hermione ran over to them. "Are you all right? What happened?"

"Shoe came untied," grunted Ron. "Gerroff me, Drake."

"I can’t, Harry’s sitting on my foot."

Harry removed his leg from under Ron’s arm and accepted Hermione’s hand to help him stand up. "We’re fine, Hermione. What’s everyone yelling about?"

Hermione’s face broke into a huge smile. "Hagrid’s going to be all right."

"He is?"

"What happened?"

"Where was he?"

"He was in the Forest," said Hermione, answering the last question first. "Professor Lockhart found him and helped him get back to the castle. He has a concussion and a lot of scrapes, but Professor McGonagall says Madam Pomfrey says he’ll be all right."

"Does he know what happened to him?" asked Draco.

Hermione shook her head. "I don’t know."

The portrait opened, admitting Moony, who looked around for a moment before spotting them near the base of the stairs. He made his way carefully through the crowd to them. "You’ve heard, then?"

"Hagrid’s all right?" asked Harry, wanting to be sure.

"Yes. But the Forest is now even more off-limits than usual. Ditto for a certain corridor on the third floor. Am I making myself perfectly clear?"

The cubs nodded. "Was it... You-Know-Who?" asked Hermione, opting for caution in the crowded common room. "Who attacked him?"

"We’re not sure. It seems likely, though. Harry, you’re to be especially careful. Don’t go anywhere alone — not that you ever do, but even if you go back for something you dropped, one of you three — you four," Moony corrected himself as Neville finally made it through the crowd to join them, "go with him. Don’t make it too obvious, but try to stay together as much as possible."

"What about Quidditch practice?" asked Harry, feeling a sudden surge of panic. "There isn’t a reserve Seeker. If I can’t play—"

"Don’t worry, Harry," said Moony soothingly. "A day or two of practice might be cancelled while they search the grounds, but the truth is, he’s not likely to have lingered here — there’s too much good magic settled in this castle for him to be really comfortable anywhere near it."

Harry would have been more comforted by this if he hadn’t had the distinct impression that Moony was trying to convince himself of its truth.

xXxXx

"What do you mean, I don’t need to know? I don’t need to know why he sent my cubs into danger? Why the hell not?"

"Believe it or not, Sirius, you’re not the most important person in the world!" snapped Danger from behind the screen where she was dressing in her robes from yesterday. "Will you trust me when I say there was a reason and leave it at that?"

"No, I effing well won’t!"

Aletha rolled her eyes and muttered something, pointing her wand at Sirius, who was pacing around the room, growling under his breath.

"Oy, what the—"

"Settle down," said Aletha, smiling in spite of herself at the sight of Sirius caught in mid-stride by her Sticky Shoes Hex. "Under ordinary circumstances, you’d be perfectly right to demand an answer. I want an answer myself. But these aren’t ordinary circumstances. I have a feeling there are forces beyond our control involved here — am I right, Danger?"

"At least one of you understands." Danger came out from behind the screen. "Yes, Harry was in trouble last night. He could have died. But he didn’t. Why didn’t he? Because we were there, and able to help him."

"But he shouldn’t ever have been out there," fumed Sirius, fumbling out his wand and releasing himself from the hex. "He’s only eleven — he’s not nearly ready for something like that — I know he’s got to do it someday, but not now!"

"Tell me this," said Danger. "Wouldn’t we be in more trouble if we didn’t know Voldemort was around?"

"Well... yes. If you don’t know he’s there, you’re not guarding against him."

"And isn’t Harry the only person who could have figured out who that was last night?"

"Since Harry’s the only other Parselmouth around, yeah."

"So, since everyone came off without major injury, and now we know more than we did, will you just leave it?"

"No, I will not just leave it. I want to know what, if anything, was that senile diricawl’s reason for sending my cubs into that Forest!"

Danger’s eyes narrowed. "Fine. But just remember, you asked for it." She walked right up to Sirius and shoved him. Surprised, Sirius stumbled backwards and sat down on the bed.

"Dumbledore suspected who might be in the Forest," said Danger, standing over Sirius with her arms crossed. "But he couldn’t go out looking himself, because that would have tipped Voldemort off. So he sent Harry."

Sirius’ face turned alarmingly red — he looked about ready to kill something, Aletha thought — but Danger wasn’t finished. "But he wasn’t just blindly sending Harry into danger. He’s been studying us for years. Why do you think he kept inviting us back to Hogwarts? It wasn’t just because he liked our company — though I’m vain enough to hope that was part of it — no, he was studying the way our magics interacted. Because we were starting to be magically bound together long before we swore that oath last December. That just codified it."

Danger paused, as if arranging her thoughts. "Dumbledore was more or less certain that, if Harry, or the other cubs, were in some sort of danger, our Pack-magic would help them, and that the help would be enough, and that it would arrive in time. He’s been watching us all year — when Remus fired the Bludger at the first Quidditch match, when I had my little magical fit at the second one, when Draco attacked the Slytherins—"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Harry and Hermione’s pendants activated when Draco got angry at the Slytherins for teasing Neville. That’s normal. But they didn’t cool back down, and they should have. Draco was having a fine time teasing Nott and the others, he shouldn’t have been upset at all. But the pendants didn’t cool off, and Harry and Hermione got worried and took off looking for him."

"So they showed up in the entrance hall just when he needed them," said Aletha, suddenly understanding. "That could have been a coincidence, but I tend to doubt it."

"Still." Sirius was starting to lose some of the anger in his face, but he still looked pretty steamed. "Still — to bet Harry’s life on a couple of things he’s noticed—"

"And he mentioned one other thing." Danger sat down beside Sirius. "You bet your own life on something like this once."

"What? When?"

"The same day we got these." Danger hooked a finger around Sirius’ Pack-pendants. "You knew it wasn’t likely the Ministry would actually listen to you — they’d be more apt to send in a dementor. Why didn’t you run? Why didn’t you save yourself?"

"That’s not fair — it’s not the same thing at all."

"Why not?"

"I was betting on you, not on some nebulous Pack-thing that as far as we know doesn’t even exist. You’ve never yet been wrong with one of those dreams of yours. But you didn’t dream anything about Harry or saving him—"

"My magic’s been coming up pretty reliably when Harry’s in trouble. I assume someone intended him some kind of harm at the Quidditch match — it’s possible that one shot I thought I blocked got partly through and stopped whoever it was."

"But it keeps getting out of your control—"

"It’s never been out of my control." Danger smiled weakly. "Close, but never really out of it. And if it had gotten out of control last night, it would have saved Harry from Voldemort — I don’t know what else it would have done, but it would have done that."

"All in all, it’s just as well it didn’t go out of control," said Aletha. "There was a lot of power there. I wouldn’t care to see it unleashed."

Danger nodded. "We’re working on it, Remus and I. If I can just remember the visualization on my own, without him to help me... personally, of course, I would be just as happy if this magic never came up again, since it only seems to come up when Harry’s in trouble."

"Yes. Back to Harry." Sirius was still on the original line of thought. "If we hadn’t been nearby—"

Danger punched him on the shoulder. "If we hadn’t been nearby, I could have brought us. That magic was dying to be used — and I can channel it, if only imperfectly — I got a line on the boys, didn’t I? So as much as you don’t want to admit it, Dumbledore was right. The cavalry came charging in and saved the day."

"The cavalry got itself thrown into a tree," said Sirius, wincing at the memory. "And I still don’t like it."

"No one asked you to like it," said Aletha acerbically.

xXxXx

"I don’t like this, Albus," said Minerva two days later over tea. "You-Know-Who — oh, all right, Voldemort — here, on Hogwarts grounds, killing unicorns..."

"He is not here now, Minerva, as far as I have been able to tell. I have personally investigated all the staff and students, and none of them show any signs of being possessed."

"But that only tells you if they are possessed now, not if they were last night, or if they will be tomorrow..."

"In spirit form, Voldemort would find this place practically intolerable," said Dumbledore calmly. "He would not linger here long without a body to inhabit. My next step, of course, will be to examine the people of Hogsmeade, and as many of the animals in the Forest and the lake as I can manage — the sentient inhabitants, I think, can take care of themselves."

"Centaurs and merfolk and such, you mean?"

"Yes. They are, as a rule, more suspicious and less willing to listen to blandishments than humankind. And I highly doubt even Lord Voldemort could possess a sentient being against that being’s will — unless, perhaps, some kind of connection had previously existed between them..."

"In which case, perhaps you should look more closely at Severus," said Minerva sharply.

There was no twinkle in Dumbledore’s eyes. "Perhaps I should."

xXxXx

"As this will be our last lesson of the year," said Professor Lockhart importantly, "I’ve got a little treat for you. A recreation of my greatest triumph here at Hogwarts — my conquering of—"

He whisked the cloth away to reveal what looked like a large pile of rocks.

"The Halloween troll!"

A few people, mostly girls, clapped. Harry and Ron exchanged looks.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, up front if you would," said Lockhart briskly, "and lie down right there, that’s right, just like that — a little more crumpled, Weasley — that’s the ticket — good. Now then..."

He tapped the troll with his wand — Harry heard a tinny roar, and a few of the girls squealed. He lifted his head to get a better look at it.

"Head down, Harry, and eyes closed, you’re unconscious after all," Lockhart admonished. Harry surrendered to the inevitable and lay down, shutting his eyes.

"When I came on the scene," said Lockhart in a dramatic voice, "the troll had already clubbed your two young classmates senseless. I approached — thus — and seeing them helpless at its feet, snatched up the nearest item I could find — a piece of armor — and threw it against the wall."

A clattering noise seemed to indicate that Lockhart had suited action to word.

"The loud noise distracted the troll, and whilst it looked about for the source of the sound, I readied my next weapon. Another piece of armor — but this I altered quickly with my wand — making it long and slender and pointed — and this I threw — directly into — the troll’s nose!"

"Eurgh!" said Seamus Finnegan’s voice.

"Indeed, Mr. Finnegan, you may well say ‘Eurgh.’" Harry hadn’t thought it was possible for Lockhart to sound any more dramatic, but he’d been wrong. "It is indeed quite a disgusting idea, throwing something into a creature’s nose — but the fact remains that the nose is one of the few weak points of the mountain troll. And while this specimen was busied with the irritant—"

Harry heard the mock-troll begin roaring again, and a few more people made sounds of disgust.

"I prepared my final attack. With a simple spell — one of the first you have learned here at Hogwarts — Wingardium Leviosa — I levitated the troll’s own club from its hand, hovered it to just above the horrid creature’s head — and dropped it."

A solid sort of thunk, and the roaring stopped abruptly.

"Thus were Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley, and indeed all of Hogwarts castle, saved from the terrible attentions of the mountain troll. Thank you, thank you very much indeed."

The applause this time was much louder and actually sounded a bit genuine, Harry thought on his way back to his seat, sneaking a look at the mock-troll standing with the club stuck in a dent in its head. And for once, he’d agree that Lockhart deserved it. That had been rather clever of him — sticking something pointy up the troll’s nose, then knocking it out with its own club...

Harry frowned. Something odd was happening in his mind. A feeling that he was repeating himself, or that he had been here before...

Draco slipped him a note as he sat down at his place.

You look funny. What’s wrong?

He scribbled one back.

Nothing, really. Déjà vu, I think it’s called. Feeling like you’ve done something before.

Draco passed it back a moment later.

All right. Just wondering.

xXxXx

"How’d you know about Fluffy?" demanded Hagrid the next day when the cubs asked him about the three-headed dog. "No one’s s’posed to be goin’ up there..."

"We didn’t open the door," said Hermione. "We just peeked through the keyhole."

"So it is yours," said Harry. "I thought it might be... did you say Fluffy?"

"Yeah, he’s mine... and he’s gotta have a name, doesn’t he? I bought him off a Greek chappie, down at the pub, last year... lent him ter Dumbledore t’guard..." Hagrid broke off and busied himself with the teakettle.

"To guard the Sorcerer’s Stone?" asked Ron impressively.

"Merlin’s beard, is there anythin’ yeh four don’t know?" Hagrid looked astonished.

"We don’t know how you are," said Draco. "Are you feeling better?"

"Ah, I’m all right. Takes more’n a knock on the head ter keep me down fer long." Hagrid took the teakettle off the fire and poured the boiling water into the teapot.

"What happened, anyway?" asked Harry.

"Well, now, I’m not really sure. After I sent yeh all back ter the castle — you boys with Letha, and then Hermione and Neville with Sirius — I was just checking ‘round the poor unicorn when..." Hagrid frowned. "I don’t really remember, yeh know? Next thing I knew, Professor Lockhart was leanin’ over me, pokin’ at me with his wand, tellin’ me ter wake up, and it was morning already." He blew on his mug of tea. "Professor Dumbledore reckons whatever went after them unicorns tried me on fer size, but I’m a mite harder ter drop than that." He chuckled.

The young Pack looked at each other. Obviously, Dumbledore hadn’t told Hagrid who it was that had been killing the unicorns, or he wouldn’t be nearly so casual about it.

Voldemort never left anyone alive if he wanted them dead, thought Harry as they walked back to the castle later. No one except me.

So why is Hagrid still alive?

xXxXx

Harry didn’t have time to think much more about this, or about anything, as he was busy doing last-minute studying for his exams, which began in three days. They were very much like the stories he’d heard all his life — making a pineapple tap-dance, turning a mouse into a snuffbox, that sort of thing — except for Lockhart’s Defense Against the Dark Arts exam, which was the very same pretest he’d given them at the beginning of the year, all about himself. Harry had a feeling he wouldn’t be doing too well on it, but did his best anyway.

For a miracle, Neville didn’t make anything explode during the Potions practical, but his potion was a pale pink and runny where it should have been bright red and thick, and Harry saw Snape marking something on his parchment that looked suspiciously like a zero. Harry’s own potion wasn’t the bright cherry color of Draco’s or the phone-box hue of Hermione’s, but it wasn’t pink either. Ron’s, ironically, turned maroon (Hermione said later it was from overstirring), and he couldn’t get it to thicken properly before Snape called time.

History of Magic was the last exam, for which Harry was grateful, since it was the one he needed to study for the most — he hadn’t paid attention in class all year, since he knew that if he did Professor Binns’ voice would just put him to sleep, and Hermione’s notes were as good as the book to study from.

"What would you do if I didn’t let you read my notes?" asked Hermione one evening in the common room.

"Then we’d fail," said Ron promptly. "And you’d have that on your conscience — your poor, helpless friends failed their first year at Hogwarts, all because you were selfish with your notes."

Hermione rolled her eyes and handed them over.

Finally, finally, the exam was over, and Harry cheered with everyone else as he dropped his school-issued, Anti-Cheating quill into its holder and rolled up his test parchment. Professor Binns admonished them not to push and shove at the door, but that was easy for him to say, Harry thought — all he had to do was go through the wall.

They all got outside eventually, and found a comfortable patch of grass, with room for five, just enough sun, and just enough shade, and occupied it before anyone else could.

"Did anyone else get number twelve?" asked Hermione.

Draco sat up. "Was that the one about the..."

"Don’t," said Ron with a groan. "Please, do not start going through them again. Once is enough."

Hermione looked indignant. "But I was just asking..."

"Don’t."

"Over," said Harry, feeling blissfully free. "It’s all over." He sat up. "Over," he sang on a low note.

"Over..." Draco added a harmony note a fifth up.

"Over..." Ron put in the third.

"Over," finished Hermione, spreading her hands in surrender and singing the octave above Harry.

"I wish I could sing," said Neville wistfully when they let the chord go.

"How do you know you can’t?" asked Draco.

"I never learned how."

"That doesn’t mean you can’t. Do you know ‘Sing a Song of Sixpence’?"

"Everyone knows that."

"So sing it."

Neville did.

"See, you can sing," said Hermione. "You have a nice voice."

"Letha says almost anybody can sing, if they just try." Draco stood up. "Come on, let’s go back to the dorm — I’ve got some music in my trunk you might like."

Harry watched them go. "We’ll have to have Neville come visit this summer," he said lazily.

"Meghan’ll like that." Hermione was lying in the sun, almost audibly purring.

"I hope I can come visit this summer," said Ron, rolling his shoulders. "Ginny says Mum’s still pretending your family doesn’t exist."

"What about your dad?" asked Harry.

"Oh, you know him, he doesn’t go against Mum unless he thinks it’s really important — and he still thinks she’ll come around on her own."

"Do you think that?" asked Hermione.

Ron sighed. "I don’t know."

Harry suddenly felt an urge to do something. "Let’s go see Hagrid," he said, getting up. "See what he’s doing this summer."

"Same thing he does every summer — staying here and keeping up with the grounds," said Hermione. But she got up and followed Harry towards Hagrid’s hut. Halfway there, Harry started singing again.

Early one morning just as the sun was rising,

I heard a maid sing in the valley below.

Hermione and Ron joined him on the chorus, adding harmonies.  

Oh, don’t deceive me,

Oh, never leave me...

 Hagrid opened the door in response to Harry’s knock just in time to hear them sing the last phrase of the chorus in harmony.

How could you use a poor maiden so?

"Lovely," he said, applauding them and beckoning them in. "Right lovely, that is. I oughta hire yeh ter sing lullabies fer Fluffy."

"Lullabies for Fluffy?" repeated Harry, laughing. "Does he like music?"

"Oh, he loves it — play him a bit o’ music, or sing it, like, and he goes straight off ter sleep..."

Hagrid stopped, an almost frightened expression crossing his big face. "I shouldn’ta told yeh that!" he blurted out. "Fergit I said it!"

"We will," said Hermione quickly. "Don’t worry, we wouldn’t tell anyone."

"Good." Hagrid sat down in his big armchair, looking perplexed.

"What’s wrong?" asked Harry.

"Nothin’... just havin’... oh, what’s it the Frenchies call it, day-jar voo..."

"Déjà vu?"

"That’s it — that feelin’ like yeh’ve been somewhere before. Just now — tellin’ yeh about Fluffy — made me feel that way. Like I told someone else about it..." Hagrid frowned. "But I don’t think I told anyone else — least, I shouldn’ta... more’n my job’s worth, that..."

Harry nodded in agreement, then winced suddenly as a sharp pain lanced through his forehead.

"What’s wrong?" asked Ron.

"Just a headache."

"You’ve been having a lot of headaches this week," said Hermione. "Have you told anyone?"

"No, I don’t want to worry them — it’s probably nothing."

"Not if it’s right there," said Hermione, touching her finger to Harry’s scar. "Is it?"

Harry nodded.

"Fine, come on."

"Come on where?" asked Ron, getting to his feet.

"We’re going to ask Professor McGonagall if we can use the Floo."

xXxXx

"No, I’m afraid you can’t," said Professor McGonagall, "but it’s no fault of yours. The castle Floo network is down, nothing can get in or out — what was so urgent that you needed to tell your family — I assume that’s who you wanted to call?"

"I’ve just been having headaches," said Harry.

"Well, in that case, I would recommend going to the hospital wing rather than the fireplace, Mr. Potter. Good day." Professor McGonagall turned back to her work.

"That’s kind of strange," said Ron as they walked down the hall. "The Floo Network almost never goes down — sometimes you get held up in it for a while, but it’s nearly always working. So where are we going now?"

"Let’s go find Draco and Neville," said Hermione.

Since no one else had a better idea, they headed for Gryffindor Tower, where they found the two boys alone in the first years’ dorm, Draco playing a melody on his flute, Neville listening.

"Are we going to tell them?" Hermione asked Harry quietly off to one side.

"Why shouldn’t we?"

"We said we wouldn’t tell anyone."

"Anyone who would get Hagrid in trouble or try to steal the — thing. They’re not."

"All right." They came out of their huddle and found seats in time for Draco to finish. When he did, they applauded him, then proceeded to tell him and Neville what had happened down at Hagrid’s hut.

When they got to the part about déjà vu, Draco frowned. "Harry, didn’t you have that a week or so ago? In Lockhart’s class?"

"Yeah... when he did that bit with the troll... maybe I do remember it, after all."

"I was going to ask you about that, but we got busy with exams and it slipped my mind. Do you remember anything about that night?"

Harry shook his head. "How come?"

"Because Lockhart says he stuck something up the troll’s nose, but if he did, you did it first."

"You’re right," said Hermione, her eyes widening. "You’re right — Harry, you jumped on the troll’s back and your wand went up its nose! That wasn’t Lockhart at all!"

Harry closed his eyes. "I jumped on the troll’s back," he said, trying to imagine it. "And my wand went up its nose. Ron was throwing armor against the wall... and I told you to get Hermione out, Draco... and then..."

I want to remember. I want to remember what happened. I want to remember what happened that night...

It was like a litany, repeated over and over in his mind — or like a battering ram that he was using against a locked door... only the door was starting to crack...

"And then you took your wand out, Ron. You did the Levitating Charm — Wingardium Leviosa — and you levitated the troll’s club over its head — and I jumped clear and you let it go..." Harry opened his eyes. "It wasn’t Lockhart at all. It was us. We took the troll down. Lockhart came along afterwards."

"I did that?" Ron looked amazed. "But — why don’t we remember, then?"

Harry shut his eyes again, but the answer came, not from him, but from another source.

"Maybe he used a Memory Charm on you."

"A Memory Charm?" repeated Hermione, turning to Neville.

"A Memory Charm." Neville nodded. "To make you forget."

"But why would he do that?" asked Ron.

"So he could claim he took the troll out and saved you," said Draco. "When you really saved yourselves."

Something suddenly locked together in Harry’s mind. "Lockhart found Hagrid. All the teachers were out searching for him, but it was Lockhart who found him. What if that’s because Lockhart knew where to look?"

"How would he know where to look?" asked Hermione.

"If he attacked Hagrid in the first place," said Ron, looking angry. "The twins tried that once or twice when I was little — they’d steal my teddy bear and hide it, and then be the big heroes who found it because I wouldn’t go to sleep without it."

"But why do you think Lockhart attacked Hagrid, Harry?" asked Draco.

"Hagrid had déjà vu about Fluffy," said Harry, piecing it together as he spoke. "The way I had déjà vu about Halloween. What if it’s for the same reason?"

"Because someone — Lockhart, I suppose — put a Memory Charm on Hagrid?" Hermione looked perplexed. "Why would he want to..." Her eyes went very wide, and she stifled a gasp with her hand.

"What?" asked Ron in perplexity.

"He wants to steal the Stone," whispered Hermione. "He wants to steal the Stone — maybe he’s working for Voldemort—" Ron recoiled and Neville squeaked. "But even if he’s not, now he knows how to get past Fluffy, and everything else would just be magic, and he’s a great wizard, look at everything he’s done in all his books, he could get past anything—"

"We’ve got to go to Dumbledore," said Harry, jumping to his feet. "Come on, we’ve got to tell him this — even if it gets Hagrid in trouble, better that than having the Stone get stolen—"

They pelted down the stairs, out the portrait hole, down more stairs, and almost ran over Professor McGonagall. "Where on earth are you going?" she asked in astonishment.

"We have to see Professor Dumbledore," Harry panted out. "We have to tell him something..."

"Well, I’m afraid whatever it is, it will have to wait. He’s not here at the moment — he’s gone to London on urgent business."

Harry looked back at his Pack in desperation. "Professor — it’s about the Sorcerer’s Stone."

Professor McGonagall, who was polishing her glasses, almost dropped them. "How in the world — no, never mind, I should have remembered who your parents are — if they told you—"

"They didn’t, we figured it out—"

"Professor, we think someone’s going to try to steal the Stone—"

"We think Professor Lockhart—"

"Nonsense," said Professor McGonagall sternly, putting her glasses back on. "I don’t know what you’ve heard, but no one could possibly steal the Stone, it’s too well protected, and I won’t hear another word against Gilderoy Lockhart — a nitwit he may be, and you’re not to repeat that, but even he wouldn’t be so foolish as to try what you’re proposing. Outdoors with you, and not another word about this to anyone, is that perfectly clear?"

Harry was tempted to try again, but he knew from the look on her face that Professor McGonagall wouldn’t listen to anything else he said. "Yes, Professor."

The dispirited five trailed outside into the bright sunshine. Neville caught sight of Professor Sprout and hurried off to ask her something about the Herbology exam.

Harry looked at the other three.

"He’s going after it tonight," he said. "He must be. He got Dumbledore out of the way, then he shut down the Floo Network somehow so no one can get word out and Dumbledore can’t get back quickly — it’s tonight." He set his shoulders. "And I’m going down after him."

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