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The Refiner's Fire
By Abraxan

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Category: Post-OotP, Buried Gems
Characters:All
Genres: Action/Adventure, Fluff, General
Warnings: Death, Sexual Situations, Violence
Story is Complete
Rating: R
Reviews: 618
Summary: In the summer before his sixth year at Hogwarts, Harry Potter learns to come to terms with the death of Sirius. As he heals and grows emotionally, he learns how to enjoy life again. But there's a war on, and Voldemort's primary objective is to kill Harry Potter, by any means necessary. As a result, Harry and his friends have a very adventurous sixth year at Hogwarts. Canon-based with some OC. HG, RHr, RT.
Hitcount: Story Total: 380715; Chapter Total: 14727







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DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author notes: Note to my readers — pay close attention. Everything here is important! (Not that the foregoing stuff wasn’t. . .LOL!) And before you try to tell me Harry doesn’t know anything about computers, he’s grown up in the Muggle world and computer viruses and so on are discussed on TV quite often (at least here in the States), and Dudley has a computer, so he’s probably heard Vernon and Dudley discussing the problems Dudley is BOUND to have gotten into with it, given that Dudley’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer. . . . heehee! Many thanks to Kelpie, my brilliant Brit-picker, and Blakevich, Starfox, Pilar and Shawn for beta-reading!

You can join the Yahoo! Group for this fic at:

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/HPRef inersFire



Chapter 24 - Black Widow



Nearly two weeks after Hermione’s attack on Harry, she was running down the corridor behind him. “Harry! Harry, wait, please,” she called.

Harry stalked off silently, doing his best to control his rising temper.

“Please,” she begged, tears in her eyes, her voice breaking. “I’ve been trying to catch you alone for ages. I’ve worked it out, I think. I need your help.”

He turned on her. “Worked what out?” he snapped. “And it seems to me the last time I helped you,” he said in a dangerous whisper, walking so close to her, he loomed over her threateningly, his eyes flashing, his body tense and ready for action, “you nearly raped me.”

“Raped you?” she repeated, horror-struck. “Is that what happened?”

“You were there, you know,” he snarled.

“That’s the thing — I have big blank spots in my memory. Remember when Ginny told us if someone possesses you, you have blank places in your memory?” She reached out to touch his arm, every motion a plea for him to believe her, to listen to her. “Please tell me you remember that.”

“I remember that,” he growled, snatching his arm out of her reach before she could touch him. He looked at her warily.

Hermione tremblingly reached into her bag and pulled out a long, thin package. She held it out to him. “I found this in my dresser after I. . .woke up, I guess. . .after. . .that day. I don’t know how it got there. Don’t touch it with your bare hands. I think it’s probably got poison on it.”

“In that case, just lay it on the floor. I don’t want to touch it,” he said, stepping away from her as she bent to put it on the floor. “What is it?”

“It’s a knife,” she said as she pointed her wand at the package and did an unwrapping spell on it. “A nasty one with three edges — a triangular blade, and all these serrations along the blade. It’s got runes on the handle, but it scared me so badly, I didn’t try to translate them. I was afraid to touch it. And the blade is discoloured. It looks like. . .it looks. . .I think there’s blood on it,” she said, nearly whimpering in her fear. “Please, Harry, I need your help.”

“What do you expect me to do?” he said in exasperation, throwing his hands in the air. “I don’t know you anymore! You were. . .you acted like an animal. You attacked me. I have scratches all over my back from your nails!”

She burst into tears. “I’m so sorry, Harry, so sorry. I don’t know how to explain it. I think I was possessed, or under an enchantment.”

“You weren’t under Imperius. I can recognize that.”

“Something wasn’t right.”

“I agree with you. Something was definitely not right.”

“You know me. Would the Hermione you know act like that?”

“I don’t know, and I’ve been afraid to ask Ron if you were that. . .forward. . .with him,” he replied, looking disgusted. “Or did you learn that stuff from Viktor Krum?”

“I’ve been missing big chunks of time for days,” she went on, desperate to get him to listen to her. “I found out I broke up with Ron and I don’t know why! I found out I. . .mistreated you. . .and I don’t even remember it! I do remember bits of it, but other bits. . . .” She shook her head as if trying to clear it. “I’ve found myself in places I hadn’t planned to go. I found this horrible thing in my dresser and have no idea how it got there. I’ve been carrying it around ever since, hoping to find you, to ask you to help me.”

Harry stilled his anger with a mighty effort, and thought about what she was saying. It did sound like Ginny’s description of possession.

“You’ve been studying so much extra magic with Dumbledore, I was hoping. . .I thought. . . maybe. . . you might know a way to see if there’s an enchantment on me,” she said humbly, twisting her fingers together and cringing as if expecting a blow. “I’ve been researching in the library, trying to find out what’s wrong with me, but I can’t find anything useful. Please don’t be angry with me. I need your help.”

He was quiet for a long time. When he spoke, his voice was calm but distant. “Dumbledore knows such spells. We’ve talked about them, but I haven’t studied them yet. You should talk to him.”

“Oh,” she said in a small voice. She seemed to shrink before his eyes. “All. . .all right. I’ll go and talk to him,” she said, doing a spell to rewrap the knife, picking up the package gingerly and dropping it back in her bag as she turned away. Her shoulders were slumped and she trudged along as if she were carrying a heavy burden.

The goodness in Harry’s soul just couldn’t take it, which made him sigh in disgust before calling out, “Hermione, wait.” He caught up with her and walked beside her. “I’ll go with you. I can tell my side of the story, anyway. I don’t know if it will be any help or not, but you were definitely not acting like the Hermione I know, so maybe you were under an enchantment. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt until Dumbledore says if you were enchanted or not.”


* * * * *


The unwrapped knife sat on Dumbledore’s desk. The headmaster had a grave look on his face as he studied it, and looked from Harry to Hermione. “She actually attacked you?” he asked Harry in disbelief.

“Yes. I didn’t want to hurt her, so it went further than I thought it would before I finally stopped her,” Harry replied, looking disgusted with himself and Hermione both. “I don’t want Ron to find out we did this. I thought I was doing her a favour. I didn’t expect . . . .”

“No, I can understand why you wouldn’t. Such behaviour is not normal for the Miss Granger we all know and admire,” Dumbledore said, giving Hermione a kind look and a wink. She burst into tears.

“What’s wrong with me?” she wailed.

“That’s what we’re going to find out. I’m going to ask Professor Lupin and Professor Snape to join us. I think they will be helpful to us in our research.”

“Research?” Harry said.

“Yes. I believe Miss Granger is the victim of some very dark magic. I’ve heard of such spells before, but this one has some interesting differences. I suspect we’ll be able to find more information about it in those books of yours. I need Remus and Professor Snape to lend us their expertise and help us research.” Before long, Lupin and Snape arrived in the office and were told the story. Both of them looked at Hermione with surprised expressions. She cowered under their scrutiny.

“Have either of you heard of a spell such as this?” Dumbledore asked.

“Actually, I was reading something in Harry’s books recently that sounded similar,” Remus replied. “It’s called the Black Widow Curse. I think I can find it again,” he murmured, going to Dumbledore’s bookcase and perusing the Dark Arts volumes Dervish had given Harry. “Ah yes, here it is,” he said with satisfaction after a few minutes’ search. “This Curse is used most often by witches, not wizards, it says here. It’s made with hairs from the one who will have the spell on them, and that person’s victim’s name is spoken aloud while the potion is being made. When the potion is completed, the witch casting the spell drinks the potion and then possesses the person whose hair is in the potion. This spell is extremely complex. The person who is possessed will retain her own memories and will behave as herself much more than is true with normal possessions. That gives credence to her performance, you see, since what she’s doing requires a good bit of trust on the part of the victim. This spell also allows the caster to do a partial possession, so they only possess their intended victim when certain things happen. There’s a trigger mechanism, of sorts, involved. So you were possessed, Hermione, by a Dark witch, and the spell probably didn’t activate until you were alone in a private place with Harry.”

“It must be that woman in The Ladies Shop,” Harry reasoned. “Parvati was given Polyjuice Potion to look like Ginny, and put under Imperius to try to poison me. Hermione’s been possessed by someone Dark. That Madam Desiree had hairs of both Hermione and Ginny in hairbrushes there, because she brushed their hair before putting potions on them.”

“You may be on to something there, Harry. We couldn’t prove anything against her with the potion that poisoned Mr. Weasley, or with Miss Patil’s incident, but this knife is very rare. We’ll send it to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. They may be able to trace it, and they can do tests on the bloodstains on it, as well,” Dumbledore said. He looked at Hermione, who had blanched when he’d mentioned the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. “You have done nothing wrong, Miss Granger. You have nothing to fear.” She nodded, still very pale.

“If nothing else, Albus, we should have that woman brought in for questioning,” Remus suggested.

“A dose of Veritaserum would go a long way to getting to the bottom of things,” Snape said quietly.

“Am I still under that spell? And what’s it for?” Hermione asked.

Remus took a moment to gather his thoughts. “The Black Widow Curse is designed as a way to get away with murder. The witch will choose someone, usually a woman, to possess, then use the Black Widow spell, which is specifically designed to captivate the victim, then murder him when he’s at his most vulnerable — during sexual intercourse, while sleeping, that kind of thing. It’s called the Black Widow Curse after the black widow spider, which sometimes kills her mate after mating. So this witch’s purpose in giving it to you would seem to be to get to Harry and kill him,” he explained quietly, doing his best to ignore Harry’s and Hermione’s flaming faces.

Dumbledore was studying the book, which he then handed to Harry, indicating pages for the boy to study. Dumbledore picked up the knife with a cloth over his hand, turning it so the engraved runes caught the light. “Yes, there are Dark spells on this knife. I’m certain it’s been used to kill many people. The writings on here are horrifying. Not only did this person possess Miss Granger to force her to murder Harry, but the knife itself will go from killing the victim to killing the murderer, then return to its master.”

“You mean that knife can think?” Harry said, startled, looking up from his reading.

“No, Harry, but it has deep enchantments on it. When its job is done, it returns to its master. Until its job is done, it will remain dormant, which is a shame. We could use it as a Portkey to locate its master if it didn’t need to kill you and Miss Granger first,” he said, with a shadow of a twinkle in his eye.

“So this witch’s plan was for Hermione and me to. . .um. . .”

“Have sexual relations, I imagine,” Dumbledore said calmly.

“Yeah, that,” Harry said, blushing madly, “and then the knife would kill both of us? What’s the point in killing Hermione? Why not let her take the blame? I don’t understand.” His eyes were shadowed with confusion.

“I believe Muggles call such an act a ‘crime of passion.’ Sometimes a person will fall in love with someone who is committed elsewhere, as you are with Miss Weasley. So the one who loves you — Miss Granger, in this witch’s mind — seduces you, kills you so Miss Weasley can’t have you, then realizes what she’s done and kills herself. It happens from time to time, I’m sorry to say. The people who commit such crimes often have serious mental instabilities, or may be very immature and have poor judgement. Some of them may just act impulsively, without thinking of the consequences. I think in this case, that witch was counting on such a scenario seeming plausible. She didn’t count on Miss Granger’s tremendous strength of character.” Dumbledore turned to Hermione and continued. “I’d like to know how you became aware of the enchantment and fought it. Do you have any idea?”

“I think it was when Harry left and I hadn’t finished what I was supposed to do. I kind of ‘woke up’ in that room where we’d been, and wandered around for a while, not knowing where I was supposed to be, what I was supposed to be doing. I was ‘awake,’ I suppose you would say, aware of myself and so forth, from time to time during that. . .erm. . .encounter. . .with Harry, too, but I felt like I was being forced to say things, to do things. After he left and I woke up again, I found Ron, and I don’t know what happened then — I lost some time again. I tried to find Harry, but every time I got near him, he took off. Then I learned I’d broken up with Ron and wasn’t very nice to him, and Harry was furious with me for that as well as for attacking him, and he wouldn’t let me anywhere near him. I didn’t know what to do. When I found this knife, I knew I needed help, that something very peculiar was going on, with me right in the middle of it.”

“I see,” said Dumbledore thoughtfully.

“Why did she make me break up with Ron?” Hermione asked plaintively.

“I suspect passion is what triggers the murderous response she’s planted in you, Miss Granger. If you had a boyfriend you cared about, your emotional involvement with him might cause you to injure or kill him and be captured or killed yourself before you had the opportunity to kill Harry. So she got Mr. Weasley out of the picture to avoid that complication. At least, that’s how it seems to me,” Dumbledore said gravely. He looked over at Harry and asked, “Have you finished reading the section I showed you in that book?”

“Yes.”

“Do you understand it?”

“I think so.”

“Tell me what you’ve learned from your reading.”

“Hermione will be under this enchantment until she completes her task. She can be repossessed at any point. Also, she has probably been given commands that will force her to do what the spell caster wants, even when that witch is not actually possessing her. She could grab that knife now and try to kill me with it, whether that witch is possessing her at the moment or not. It’s kind of like a computer program that’s set to do certain things on its own. . .like a virus,” he mused.

“Computer program? Virus?” Snape asked. “What are you talking about, Potter?”

“Just thinking out loud. Sorry. Computers are Muggle machines that are designed to do certain things, often on their own once a program is started. A computer virus is something that messes up the programming or makes the computer do something the owner doesn’t want it to do, like sending out a lot of emails with viruses attached, that kind of thing.”

The older wizards all simply shook their heads, not understanding a word he was saying. They were all quiet for a few moments.

“I think I understand what you mean about programming something,” Dumbledore said finally. “I have read about computers somewhat, although I must admit I don’t understand them.”

“Most Muggles don’t, either,” Harry said with a wry smile.

“To get back to Miss Granger,” Dumbledore said thoughtfully, “there may be a trigger of some kind, as Remus suggested. It could be something like getting close enough to you to touch you, for instance, that sets the spell in motion again. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve been making certain you and Miss Granger keep your distance from each other this afternoon. In your case, Harry, there was no effort involved. You are simply being self-protective, for which I don’t blame you at all. Miss Granger, however, has a strong drive to touch you, and, while she’s been controlling herself admirably, I’ve had to shield you a time or two to keep you apart.”

“Oh, is that what I bumped my hand on?” Hermione said, looking at her fingers oddly.

“Yes. You didn’t mean Harry any harm at the time — I could tell that — but I didn’t want to take any chances in triggering another attack.” He turned back to the boy.

“So when she reached out to touch me in the hall earlier, she might have tried to kill me then, if I hadn’t flinched away?” Harry said, realization sending a cold chill down his spine.

“Yes, exactly,” Dumbledore replied. “You had no idea how wise you were to keep your distance from her. And yet, here you are, sitting next to Miss Granger, still a good enough friend to try to get her the help she needs. And think about this. You were right, just now. She could strike at any moment. You’re here, the knife is here. . .then why is she not trying to kill you?” Dumbledore asked, winking and putting his finger next to his nose. “Why indeed?”

“I’m not sure how to answer that, Professor,” Harry responded carefully.

“Do you remember what I told you is your strongest weapon against Voldemort?”

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

“My heart. Love.”

“And why do you suppose Miss Granger has been able to overcome this possession, at least in part?”

Harry only had to think a moment about this one. ”Because she really loves me?” he said, his heart sinking.

“Yes, that’s right.” Dumbledore studied the boy’s distraught face for a moment longer. “Remember, there are many kinds of love. You and Miss Weasley share one kind. You and Miss Granger share quite another.”

“We do?” Harry was thoroughly confused now.

“Miss Granger has put her schooling, which is extremely important to her, even her very life in jeopardy for you more than once, hasn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“She has the utmost love for you, Harry. She’s willing to die to help you, or to protect you. It’s the very deepest form of friendship,” Dumbledore said, smiling from Harry to Hermione. “She hasn’t followed through with what you’d call her ‘programming,’ despite being in close proximity to you in your Common Room and classes. Her resistance to the command to kill you shows that the person who possessed her does not understand your relationship, nor does she understand the depth of feeling Miss Granger has for you. Because that person didn’t understand these things, Miss Granger has been able to break away from the enchantment far enough to recognize that it exists. Well done, Miss Granger,” he said, smiling at her. Hermione smiled slightly for the first time in weeks. “Now,” Dumbledore went on, “we need to release her from this spell. Harry, what else did you learn from the pages I had you read just now?”

“That this spell is nearly unbreakable,” Harry said with a frown. “How are we going to release her?”

“You and I, Harry, share something that is extremely rare,” said Dumbledore. “We’ve survived The Refiner’s Fire. I believe we can do this for her, if we work together. It will take a bit of planning.”


* * * * *


While Dumbledore and Harry worked out their plan, Remus, and Snape studied the Dark Arts books to see if they could find any more information that might be helpful. Hermione sat quietly by herself. Dumbledore didn’t want her looking at the Dark Arts books in case the witch happened to possess her at that point, resulting in her learning that Harry had those books. Such information was something they all wanted to keep from Voldemort and his followers.

“Professor,” Harry said to Dumbledore after they’d gone over their plan numerous times. “Do you think it would help Ron to see this done? So he’d know that she’s really been enchanted?” The two of them had been working on the plan for a couple of hours now.

“It might very well be in his best interests, yes,” the headmaster agreed. “But he must not interfere in any way with our spell.”

“I’ll tell him that, and we can put him behind a shield, too, if you want. Could Ginny also come?”

“You make this sound like a social gathering, Harry,” Dumbledore said, a slight frown creasing his face.

“No! That’s not what I meant at all. It’s just that. . .it’s been very hard on Ron, and he’s been depending on me and Ginny a lot. And Ginny was so great to believe me and forgive me. . .if they could see this happen, maybe it would help all of us heal our friendship,” he replied, hoping he was making good sense.

Dumbledore thought a moment. “All right. What you say has merit. I’ll send Fawkes for them right away. You can meet them outside my door here and explain to them what’s going on. Will that do?”

“Yes. Thanks,” Harry said, grateful as ever for his professor’s understanding heart.


* * * * *


“She WHAT?” Ron’s deep voice boomed down the spiral staircase, his face white with shock.

“I didn’t believe it at first, either, Ron,” Ginny assured him.

“Hermione’s under a spell called the Black Widow’s Curse,” Harry explained. “Yes, I made a mistake in agreeing to do her a favour before knowing what it was. I’ve already promised Ginny I will NEVER EVER do such a thing again! And if you ever hear me starting to make a promise without having all the information on what I’m promising, you have permission to belt me!”

“You’re saying Hermione, dainty little Hermione who you tower over, attacked you? Hurt you? Tried to kill you somehow?” Ron said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Harry, turn around and take off your robes,” Ginny said patiently. Harry complied, shrugged out of his robes, took off his sweater and opened his shirt so Ginny could lift the back and show Ron his scratches.

“Hermione did that?” Ron said, aghast. “While she was kissing you?”

“While she was trying to do a lot more than kiss me, Ron,” Harry said grimly. “That’s why I’m sure she had to be under a spell. At first, I thought she’d just gone all ‘fan girl’ on me or something, but then I wondered. I was still pretty angry with her though. These scratches hurt a lot and I haven’t slept well since it happened, because of them. But the Hermione I know isn’t a. . .a wild woman. Granted, I’ve never snogged her, but I can’t imagine her being that different than she usually is.”

“She’s not wild or rough, at least not with me,” Ron said uncertainly. “She’s always been sweet. . .gentle. . . .” He shook his head and rubbed his burning eyes frantically with the back of his hands.

Harry put his hand on his friend’s arm. “Ron. It isn’t you. It isn’t her. It isn’t me. It’s a spell. That’s what’s wrong with this entire situation, what caused the whole thing. Somebody out there is trying to kill me, through Hermione, just as they tried through Parvati and Millicent. You remember Snape’s saying back before term began that killing me was Voldemort’s number one priority in this war? That’s what’s going on here. He has some people working for him who are convinced they can get the job done, so they keep sending girls to attack me.” He stopped talking and watched as Ron processed all the information he’d received in the last few minutes. “Are you OK?”

Ron gulped. “Uh. Yeah. I guess.” He stood there silently, a lost look on his face. Finally he looked at his sister. “You knew about this, Gin?”

“Harry told me the next day. He was afraid Hermione would tell me, or would try to hurt me. I promised not to tell you. You were miserable enough at the time without knowing all this stuff.”

“And you two have kept this secret for two weeks or more now?” They nodded. “I don’t know whether to hit you or thank you,” he said, looking at Harry.

“Feel free to hit me if you want,” Harry replied, offering a heavily muscled shoulder.

“Nah, I’d probably break my fist,” Ron said, trying to smile through his misery.

Harry grinned at him. “Thanks for that, anyway. I’m sore enough without being punched as well.”

Ron sighed heavily. “So we’re going to watch you try to get this enchantment off her? Will it hurt her?”

Harry sobered instantly. “We honestly don’t know, but there’s nothing else to do that we can find or think of. If we don’t do this, she will be like a bomb waiting to go off — at some point, that witch will do something to trigger a reaction in Hermione and she’ll be dangerous again. She could attack either or both of you, trying to get you out of the way so she can go after me. We can’t take that chance.”

“Will it hurt her, though?” Ron persisted.

“I honestly don’t know, Ron. We don’t have any choice,” Harry conceded.

Ron sighed heavily, then straightened his shoulders and started for the door to Dumbledore’s office, his face stoic. “Well, let’s get on with it, then.”

A short time later, Dumbledore, Lupin, Snape, Hermione and Harry were all gathered once again in Dumbledore’s office. A very nervous looking Ron and a serious Ginny sat in chairs against the wall, under strict orders to not move and to stay quiet. Remus and Snape sat with them. Harry had created a shield to protect them from the magic he and Dumbledore would be creating, as well as preventing Ron and Ginny interfering in what they had to do. The knife was in a sealed box with enchantments on it to keep it in the box and inert. The floor had been cleared and a golden circle drawn on it. Hermione stood nervously in the centre of the circle.

“Now, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore said, “Harry and I are going to stand inside the circle with Miss Granger. We will extend our hands around you, without touching you at all. No wands will be needed. This is a highly refined form of wandless magic.”

Hermione nodded her understanding.

“Professor Snape has several potions with him in case that knife activates with you in such close proximity to Harry. We’re doing our best to take good care of both of you.” He smiled kindly at Hermione. She stood stiff but trembling, as if she were about to face a firing squad. Harry’s face was resolute. This spell would either release Hermione from her enchantment or possibly kill both her and Harry. It was a dangerous game they were playing.

“Everyone ready?” Dumbledore said calmly. “All right, Harry. Let’s begin.” Dumbledore and Harry raised their arms at the same time, encircling but not touching Hermione, with a gap a few feet wide between their hands. Jets of golden light flew between their fingers, pulsing as if they were part of a circular current, with Dumbledore’s and Harry’s bodies as part of that circle. The two wizards raised their hands and a shimmering shell, like a bell jar of golden light, formed around the three of them, going from far over their heads all the way to the circle on the floor. The sparkling shell vibrated and pulsed as if it had a heartbeat. Harry and Dumbledore began to shake as they held the spell, but they held fast. Hermione trembled harder now until she was shaking quite visibly, her curls bouncing wildly on her back. A scream ripped from her throat. Harry looked at her for a moment in fear, then saw Dumbledore standing steadfast on the other side of her, and held his part of the golden shell with even stronger resolve. Her scream became a long, undulating wail, and it looked as if she were fighting something. Hermione’s eyes rolled up in her head as the wail suddenly cut off, replaced by a sound pure as crystal, musical and yet other-worldly, as if the golden light itself had become audible. She looked unconscious, yet she was still upright. Her limp body floated gently up off the floor, spinning slowly inside the encircling arms of Harry and Dumbledore. She drifted bit by bit back to the floor, landing gently on her feet, held upright as if by invisible strings. The otherworldly music stopped as, with a sudden cry, she collapsed. A shrieking whirlwind came out of her and exploded into a misty rose-grey haze inside the golden shell. The haze floated momentarily above the motionless girl, then vanished. Dumbledore and Harry broke their connection and knelt beside her.

“Hermione? Hermione, are you all right?” Harry cried, his voice breaking. His long-time friendship with her was far stronger than his anger toward her.

“Don’t touch her yet, Harry. Let’s see if it worked,” Dumbledore warned, pushing Harry’s hand away before he could touch her pale cheek.

A few moments later, Hermione gasped and opened her eyes. “Harry? What happened?”

“Do you remember us doing the spell?” Harry said.

“Yes.”

“What happened? Do you remember anything?”

“Oh, she was so angry! She was screaming!” Hermione said as she sat up, her voice shaking, her eyes wide. “She didn’t think you could do it.”

“Was it Madam Desiree?” Harry asked.

“It didn’t look like her. She had dark hair,” Hermione said, pressing her fingers to her eyelids, trying to remember details. She stayed like that a few moments, and then said “I know who it was, but I can’t think!” She looked across the room at Snape. “Do you have Veritaserum with you?

“Yes, I do,” he replied stiffly. “Why?”

“Maybe if I took some, I could remember who she is. Would it hurt me to take it?”

“No, it won’t hurt you,” Snape said quietly.

“You don’t have to do this, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore said kindly.

“No, I want to. Somebody’s trying to kill Harry, and used me to get to him. Somebody made me break up with Ron,” she said, growing angrier as she spoke. “I want to get to the bottom of this as much as anyone else.”

“All right then,” Dumbledore agreed, dropping the shield protecting the onlookers, then saying, “Severus, if you would, please?” They seated Hermione in a comfortable armchair and gave her the Veritaserum.

“Miss Granger,” Dumbledore said gently, “do you remember who gave you the knife? Or who put the enchantment on you?”

“I don’t know where the knife came from. I don’t remember the enchantment being put on me.”

“Did anything unusual happen to you in the day or two before you attacked Harry?” Dumbledore asked.

“It was a Hogsmeade weekend. I went alone because I’d had a fight with Ron. Madam Desiree invited me into her shop. She said she was still so sorry about what happened with Ron and that potion. She wanted to make things up to me. All I wanted was another flagon of that potion to tame curly hair. She wanted to give me a manicure and some sample products.”

“And did she give you the manicure and some products?”

“Yes. She put several things in my bag, and she did my nails for me. I’ve never had a manicure before. It was kind of odd.”

“In what way was it odd?”

“Having another woman holding my hands, messing with my nails. Some of what she did was uncomfortable, but she said it would make the nails grow in more nicely.”

“What did she do to them?”

“She dipped them in some foul-looking green liquid that felt nice on my skin, and then pushed under my nails with a stick. She said that would make the edges all nice and even, and would help keep my nails from getting stained with ink all the time.”

Dumbledore turned to the others and said, “I suppose we know how the knife got into her bag now, but I don’t understand about the manicure.” Turning back to Hermione, he said, “What did she tell you about her plans? Did she reveal anything about the Black Widow Curse to you then, or since she put you under that spell?”

Hermione’s head rocked back and forth as if she were fighting a memory, or searching for one. Her forehead was creased in a frown as she struggled with the answer.

“Did she put a spell on you to keep you from telling these things?”

“Yes.”

“Ah. Finite Incantatum,” Dumbledore said. Hermione’s face relaxed instantly. “Now, then. What did she tell you of her plans or about the Black Widow Curse?”

“She said she was going to help me get the man of my dreams. She said she had three steps to the plan and that those three steps would mean I would be with my true love forever and ever.”

Harry and Ron glanced at each other and gulped. Harry said, “And who. . .um. . .” He couldn’t bring himself to ask the question.

Dumbledore took over again. “And who was the person she said was your true love? Or did you tell her who you loved?”

“She said Harry was my true love, that we were perfect for each other, we were meant to be together.” Ron stifled a moan. Harry just looked sick, trying not to look at any of his friends. “She asked if I loved Harry, and I said yes, of course. I’ve always loved Harry.”

Harry fell into a chair, his head in his hands, the very picture of misery. Ron mirrored his action. Ginny simply stared at Hermione, her eyes stricken.

“And then what happened?” Dumbledore prompted after seeing the reaction of the two boys and Ginny.

“I told her about Ron. She said I love Harry, and it’s time to break up with Ron, he’s childish and immature. I tried to argue with her, but she overpowered me.”

Harry tried again. “So when you told me you loved me, was it her or you talking?”

“It was me. I do love you, Harry.”

“I thought you loved Ron.”

“I love Ron too.”

“You can’t have it both ways,” Harry said miserably.

“Yes I can,” she insisted.

“Did she give you instructions? What did she tell you to do?” Dumbledore prompted, ignoring Harry’s interruption.

Hermione was quiet for a while, then said in a voice not her own, “If the first plan fails, the second one will succeed. If the second one fails, the third will do the charm, with no margin for failure.”

“What did you say?” Dumbledore asked.

“If the first plan fails. . .”

“I heard that. What does it mean?”

“I don’t know. She kept saying that over and over.”

“So what was the first plan?”

“Seducing Harry.”

“And did it succeed?” Dumbledore asked carefully, motioning to Harry to be quiet when the boy started to protest.

“No,” she said, a frown on her face. “She took me over partway through and ruined it.”

“What?” Harry said, completely confused and still stuck on a certain point of her revelation. “Hermione, you’re under Veritaserum, so you have to tell the truth. Do you love me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you love Ron?”

“Yes.”

“You can’t love us both!”

“I do love you both.”

Harry threw his hands up in the air and turned away from her in disgust. “I don’t know what to ask her,” he muttered. “I can’t sort out the answers we’re getting.”

“You’re too emotionally involved, Harry,” Remus said quietly. “Let Albus handle it.”

Harry growled in response.

“When you say she took you over and ruined it, what do you mean? She ruined the seduction?” Dumbledore asked.

“She started plan two without letting me finish plan one.”

“What was plan one?”

“Seducing Harry.”

“How was that supposed to kill Harry?”

“I had potion on my skin that would kill him, but he never kissed anything but my mouth.”

“Ask her why she didn’t have on poison lipstick like Parvati did that time,” Ginny prompted.

“Miss Granger, did you hear Miss Weasley’s question?” Dumbledore said calmly.

“Yes.”


“And what’s the answer?”

“Madam Desiree knows I don’t wear lipstick often, so she didn’t make me use it because she thought that would make Harry suspicious.”

“Very logical. And what was plan two?”

“Poison.”

Dumbledore looked at Harry in sudden concern. “Poison?”

Harry shrugged.

“Miss Granger, what do you mean about the poison?”

“I scratched him repeatedly. He should be dead by now. It’s because he isn’t that the knife appeared. I think the knife was a flagon of potion that transfigured after some time went by without Harry dying.”

“That would explain the manicure,” Dumbledore said heavily, casting a worried eye at Harry.

“Harry, do you still have scratches on you?” Remus asked.

“Yes, they haven’t healed yet,” he agreed. He glanced ruefully at Ginny. “Ginny’s tried to get me to go to Madam Pomfrey again and again, but I wouldn’t do it. Ginny’s been putting essence of murtlap on it since the day after it happened.”

“Murtlap? Why that?” Snape snapped.

“It helped when my hand was cut from that foul quill Umbridge made me use to write lines last year,” Harry replied.

“Not a bad idea to ease pain and speed healing,” Snape said grudgingly. “I was just surprised you would think of that by yourself.”

Harry looked at Hermione. “It was Hermione’s idea,” he said simply, his eyes pain-filled as he looked at his best friend who’d been so cruelly used to get to him.

“Can anyone think of any more questions we should ask Miss Granger?” Dumbledore asked. “The Veritaserum will wear off soon.”

“Have you seen this Madam Desiree any time since that visit to Hogsmeade?” Remus asked her.

“No.”

“Had you ever seen her before you first met her in The Ladies Shop?” he continued.

“No. Yes. I’m not sure.”

“Explain.”

“Sometimes I look in the mirror and see a woman with long black hair and a thin, craggy face instead of me. I’ve seen that face before,” Hermione said. “It isn’t me.”

“Who is it?”

“It’s the woman who’s possessing me.”

“Do you recognize her?” Remus persisted.

“Yes. It’s Bellatrix Lestrange. I remember seeing her picture at Grimmauld Place.”

Dumbledore looked up at the others in his office. “Well done, Remus. Fawkes!” His phoenix landed on his shoulder. He scribbled a note and handed it to the beautiful scarlet and gold bird. “Please take this information to the Order, Fawkes.” As the phoenix disappeared in a flash of light, Dumbledore explained to the gathering, “I’ve instructed them to send operatives to The Ladies Place in Hogsmeade right away. I also warned them that the owner might be Bellatrix Lestrange using a Glamour Spell or Polyjuice as a disguise, and that I’d like her captured, not killed, if at all possible.”

“She deserves to die!” Harry snarled, leaping to his feet, his hands gnarled into tight fists, rage pouring from him in waves the others could feel.

“But she may give us valuable information, Harry. We can’t ignore that in the name of revenge,” Dumbledore said calmly, placing a hand on the angry boy’s shoulder.

“I could,” Harry growled. “Look at all the harm she’s done, not to mention killing Sirius!”

“I know, dear boy, I do understand,” Dumbledore began. “Breathe deeply, please, Harry. We need you to be rational. You can’t be rational when you’re enraged.” He watched the boy struggle to control himself, then turned back to Hermione. “All right, Miss Granger, I think we have all the information we need from you. You need to rest for a few moments. When you wake up, you’ll remember everything we’ve discussed. Thank you so much for your help.”

He looked at Harry, who was still battling his temper. “Well, let’s see, then,” he said, standing up and gesturing for the boy to stand in front of him.

Harry removed his robes, sweater and shirt, and stood shivering in the cold stone room in just his trousers and shoes. The scratches were still red and angry-looking, and those little bumps Ginny had noticed were blotchy purple and blood-red, with startling yellow stripes. They looked as if they’d be hot to the touch.

“These don’t look good at all,” the professor said in a concerned voice. “Professor Snape, would you come look at these, please? And Miss Weasley, would you please go to my fireplace and send for Madam Pomfrey?”

“Not the hospital wing again!” Harry cried. “No! I’m fine!”

“You’re not fine, dear boy,” Dumbledore said in a gentle voice.

Snape leaned close to Harry’s back, touching the scratches here and there. Harry cried out and flinched hard the first time he did this, then bore the rest of the pain stoically.

“These bumps have something in them,” Snape said. “They need to come out. It’s possible the poison was on Miss Granger’s fingernails, but I think it’s more likely that these bumps are something she’s inserted under Potter’s skin.”

“Something she inserted?” Harry gasped. “How? I didn’t hold still long enough for her to insert things in my skin.”

“These would have been attached to her fingernails or fingertips, depending on the design,” Snape drawled offhandedly. “If they are what I believe they are, these are capsules used to deliver certain specific types of poisons, any one of which would kill a full-grown hippogriff. So this witch, whoever she is, must not be as good at potions as she thinks she is, or you would have died long ago.” As he continued his examination, he found one of the bumps had something sticking out of it. “This one isn’t as deep as the others. I just might be able to get it loose. If I can, I can analyse what’s in it and bring up the right antidotes.”

“Go ahead, Severus,” Dumbledore prompted.

“Is that all right with you, Harry?” Remus said in concern.

“Yeah. Let’s just get this over with,” Harry said, his mouth a thin, determined line, his face resigned, his body tense in anticipation of pain. He leaned forward and grasped the edge of Dumbledore’s desk, his knuckles white, his jaw clenched. “I’m ready,” he said grimly.

Snape worked very slowly, using his wand to ease the tiny, sharp-tipped capsule out bit by bit until it lay undamaged in a flagon he’d pulled from his pocket. “I will run a few tests and be back as soon as possible with the right antidote. I believe this is a fast-acting poison. A single capsule of this poison should have killed Potter right away. For him to survive several of them with no real illness as a result? That’s remarkable, even for Saint Potter,” he said dryly. Harry sneered in response but didn’t say anything.

“Have you been feeling quite well?” Remus asked Harry.

“No, I’ve been feeling achy and tired for a couple of weeks,” the boy responded. “These scratches really hurt. The pain from them hasn’t lessened at all. And the bumps itch like mad. I’ve been doing my best not to scratch them.”

“It’s been a couple of weeks since the incident with Hermione, right?” Remus prompted.

“Yes,” Harry answered, turning a straight wooden chair around backwards and sitting in it with his arms crossed along its back.

“I’ve got enough information to be going on with. I’ll be in my office working on this,” Snape said as he swept from the room.

“You flinched when I hugged you in the hall after you had that memory of James,” Remus said suddenly. “I asked you if you were all right, and you said you were fine.”

Harry sighed and shrugged. “I thought I would be eventually.”

“You said you’d bumped yourself on the table, and I believed you,” Remus said, giving Harry a look that said he wouldn’t be quite so gullible in the future.

“I did bump myself on the table,” Harry replied with a shrug and a guilty smile, “but it was my head, not my back, that I bumped.”

“Next time you say you’re ‘fine’ when I suspect you may not be, you won’t get off so lightly, young man.” He smiled fondly at Harry. “I wish I’d known so we could get you treated sooner.”

“It isn’t your fault,” Harry said ruefully. “I’m a bit stubborn, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“I did notice that, yes,” Remus replied with a chuckle.

While they waited for Madam Pomfrey to arrive, Remus and Dumbledore studied the bumps and scabbed-over scratches on Harry’s back. Harry rested with his face in his arms, trying to ignore the pain in his back. Hermione sat in a chair against the opposite wall from Ron and Ginny, who sat, quiet and forgotten, where they’d been left. They were stunned by all they’d heard, and were attempting to understand it all. Hermione was sitting where they’d left her, crying.

“What are you crying for?” Ron asked in disgust, still angry with her. Not only had she broken up with him and snogged his best mate, she’d tried to kill him? For a flagon of hair potion? Ron’s brain just refused to process all the information he’d learned in the last half hour.

“I would never hurt Harry. I’d never hurt you. Or Ginny, either. I hope you all know that,” Hermione said through her tears.

“Yeah, well, we’ll see,” Ron said gruffly.

“You’d better hope you haven’t hurt Harry badly,” Ginny said, her eyes snapping with barely-suppressed fury. “Spell or no spell, I won’t be responsible for my actions if anything happens to him!”

“That’s my warrior princess,” Harry said with a chuckle. He’d raised his head from his arms and followed their conversation with interest. His comment made all three of his friends laugh for a moment and broke some of the tension in the air. Ron stared at Hermione for a long time before speaking again.

“Did you mean those things you said?” he asked.

“Which things?” Hermione said carefully.

“The ones you said to me. When you broke up with me,” he said stiffly.

“Ron, I honestly don’t know what I said. If it was anything hurtful, then I certainly didn’t mean it. I’d appreciate it if you’d let me talk to you in private sometime soon,” she asked humbly.

“I’ll think about it,” he grumbled, then crossed his arms tightly and turned his face away from her, his expression tight and distant.

When Madam Pomfrey arrived, she tutted as she saw Harry’s back from a distance, then gasped when she saw it up close. “Mr. Potter, what have you got yourself into this time?”

“Password?” he said calmly.

She leaned in and whispered, “Scar on bum.”

“OK. Hermione scratched me. There may have been something on her nails when she did it. She was under an enchantment,” Harry told the nurse.

“Poppy, we want to pay particular attention to these bumps,” Dumbledore said, pointing out the bumps they’d found on his back.

“I see. . .and what do you think they could be?” she asked.

“A poison delivery system, some kind of capsules. Why they haven’t dissolved and delivered their dose is a mystery,” Dumbledore replied.

“I see. . . .” She went back to examining Harry. “And are these all the scratches?”

Harry blushed crimson. “She, erm, grabbed my bum. There are some down there, too. And a couple in my scalp, maybe.”

“Let’s see then,” Madam Pomfrey said quickly, ready to get down to business.

“Not with the girls here!” Harry protested. “Do all these people have to see my bare bum?”

“Sorry, Mr. Potter, I got interested in the case and forgot the patient for a moment,” she said kindly, patting him gently on the shoulder. “You lot, clear out,” she said imperiously.

“We can’t let them go far, Poppy,” Dumbledore said, almost apologetically. “We’re in the middle of some things and need them here.”

“All right then, just send the students outside while I examine him, or conjure some screens for me, but do it quickly!” she snapped. “This boy has waited entirely too long for treatment!”

“Yeah, that’s what Ginny kept telling me,” Harry muttered, with a wry grin and a wink at Ginny as she was ushered out the door along with Hermione. Ron stayed, refusing to budge.

“What about Mr. Weasley?” the nurse asked Harry when she saw Ron staying behind.

“He can stay,” Harry replied. “Oh, Professor,” he said suddenly to Dumbledore. “Could somebody stay with the girls? Hermione might still attack Ginny, right?” He snorted with sudden laughter. “Or Ginny might attack Hermione, come to think of it.”

“I doubt that, in either case, but I’ll go out there myself to stay with them. Will that set your mind at ease?” Dumbledore said kindly.

“Yes. Thanks.” As Dumbledore followed the girls out of the door, Remus cleared off Dumbledore’s desk and did a Cushioning Charm on it so Madam Pomfrey could use it as an examining table. Harry lay face down on the desk, his bum bare to the world, his entire body blushing.

“Crikey, Harry, even your bum’s all muscles now,” Ron teased uneasily. He was still very confused about what was going on here, but was doing what he could to help out his best mate.

Harry chuckled a bit at Ron’s teasing. “Don’t go telling everyone or they’ll want one just like it,” he said with a brief snort of laughter.

“Be still, Mr. Potter. This may hurt a bit,” Madam Pomfrey said as she held her wand over one of the bumps. She muttered an incantation but nothing happened. She tried a few other things and still, the bump did not move. “These need to come out of there, but I’m not certain how to do it without cutting into your skin,” she said uneasily. “They seem to be quite deep. Perhaps I should send you to St. Mungo’s.”

“NO!” Harry cried, suddenly lifting himself up on his elbows and twisting around to look at her pleadingly. “You can do it. I know you can. Please, don’t send me there!”

“Calm down, calm down. Let me think.”

“Go ask Professor Dumbledore if he has any ideas,” Harry prompted. “Maybe something from The Refiner’s Fire could help?”

A few moments later, the nurse returned from talking with the headmaster. “You were right, he did have an idea, Mr. Potter. He thinks you may be able to push the capsules out with your magic without releasing any of the toxins,” she said doubtfully.

“I’ll have a go,” he said. “Did he say what to do?”

“He said to concentrate on one spot at a time, and to work very slowly. You need to be gentle so you don’t break them.”

Just then, Snape returned. “Oh my. A display of Potter’s bum. How charming,” he commented dryly.

“Thanks, glad you like it,” Harry snapped.

“Temper, temper, Mr. Potter,” Snape warned.

“Severus, did you. . .” Remus began.

“I analysed the poison and found there are three toxins in the capsule. Each one is highly poisonous. Any one of them, in this small a dosage, should have killed you very quickly. You’ve apparently made someone rather angry with you, Potter.”

“Oh, gee, let me guess. . .Voldemort?” Harry snarled. “Can we get on with this please?”

“Do not use the Dark Lord’s name so lightly, Potter,” Snape cautioned. “It can get you into trouble.”

“As if I’m not in trouble already,” he retorted.

“I think I’m going to enjoy digging these capsules out of your behind, Potter,” Snape sneered with a cruel curl of his lip. “And with no anaesthesia. Lovely.”

“Professor Dumbledore suggested Potter might be able to push them out himself,” Madam Pomfrey said carefully, looking sideways at Snape. She’d never understood why he was always so hateful to poor Potter. Such a nice boy, and so many bad things had happened to him.

“I have some ideas on how to get them out. Let’s try those first. I believe I have a greater chance of getting Potter out of this alive than he would if he tried it himself,” Snape replied.

“Yes, do enjoy yourself,” Harry snapped, removing his glasses again and burying his face in his arms, willing himself not to flinch no matter what they did to him.

Snape and Madam Pomfrey worked for quite a while trying to get even one of the capsules out of Harry’s skin safely. At last, they gave up. “All right, your turn,” Madam Pomfrey said. “Try to work it out gently, if you can.”

Harry nodded grimly, then concentrated on one of the bumps, the most painful one deep in his back. He was grunting with the effort. He stopped, panting and sweating. “I’m freezing. Can I have a blanket or something?”

“I can do a Warming Charm on you,” Madam Pomfrey said.

“Best not to do any magic on his back with those capsules in him,” Snape warned.

“Here you go, mate,” Ron said, throwing Harry’s robes across his back. “Better?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Harry lay there and caught his breath, then gave it another try.

“Which one are you working on?” Remus asked. “I’ll uncover that part of your back so we can catch the capsule when you get it out.”

“The one by my shoulder blade, the one that’s so deep.”

“Keep working on it,” Remus encouraged, uncovering that part of Harry’s back. “I’ll let you know if I see any progress.”

Harry said, “Could somebody please give me my wand?” and held his hand out for it. “Now point it at the bump,” he directed. Remus pointed the end of the wand at the bump. Harry took a deep breath and concentrated as hard as he could. With a small “pop” the capsule came out of his back. Everyone cheered, and Harry lay gasping for breath, a moan escaping him.

“Is it very painful?” Madam Pomfrey asked.

“Oh yeah,” he groaned.

“I could give you something for the pain, but I’m afraid if I did, you wouldn’t be able to push any more out, and we need to get those out of you as soon as possible,” she said, her voice worried.

“Point my wand for me again.” One after the other, Harry got the capsules out of his back and buttocks. Madam Pomfrey put ointment on each opening when the capsule was removed, and Snape put each capsule into a separate flagon, so he could test them. Finally, Harry was done. He stood up, wobbling a bit, then pulled up his boxers and trousers, zipped up, buckled his belt and then reached for his discarded shirt. Remus called Dumbledore and the girls back into the office.

“Are you certain that’s all of them?” Madam Pomfrey asked. “And leave your shirt and sweater off for now. I want to watch the progress of the healing where I’ve put the ointment so I’ll know if you need more. It shouldn’t take very long.”

“What about your head, mate? I remember you saying you had a couple of bumps there that itched like mad,” Ron said.

“Yeah, I thought I had insect bites or something. I was putting murtlap essence on them at night, and washing my hair every morning to get the goo out from the murtlap. What a mess.” Harry felt his head over his left ear. “There are two just there,” he said, putting his fingers on either side of the bumps.

Madam Pomfrey parted his black hair to see the bumps. “I can’t really see them, your hair is too thick. We may need to shave your head here to get them out and treat the wounds properly,” she murmured.

“Shave my head?” Harry said in disbelief. “My hair may be a mess, but it’s mine and I like it!”

“Calm down, Harry,” Remus said, chuckling. “You can remove the hair from that area without shaving it. Just do what you do for your beard.”

“Oh,” Harry said, feeling stupid. “How big an area do you need?” he asked the nurse. She held her hand up with her fingers spread in a circle about three inches across. “Put your hand on my head where you need that space to be so I’ll know where to put it.” She did as he asked. “OK, I’ve got it,” he said, and she backed a step away from him, looking at him curiously. He looked thoughtful a moment, and then a circular bald area about three inches across appeared in his hair just behind and above his left ear, exactly where Madam Pomfrey had indicated she wanted it.

“That’s wonderful, Harry! Thank you,” Madam Pomfrey said.

“I didn’t know Potter was a Metamorphmagus,” Snape muttered thoughtfully to Remus.

“We don’t know if he is, but he can control his hair and beard,” Remus replied quietly.

Madam Pomfrey was busy examining Harry’s head. “There you are. Two bumps. Can you remove these as well?”

“Yeah, probably,” he said, and then tried the same procedure he’d used before. One of them popped out perfectly well, but the other suddenly dissolved. Harry said a very quiet “Oh!” as his eyes rolled up in his head and he collapsed on the floor, his body shuddering, his lips turning blue as he gasped for air.

“HARRY! HARRY!” Ginny and Hermione screamed, both running to him.

“Get away from him, you! You’ve killed him!” Ginny said, throwing a solid punch at Hermione that sent her reeling back into Ron’s arms. He promptly dropped her and knelt by Harry’s side next to his sister. Hermione sat sobbing where Ron had dropped her, holding her hand to her bruised cheek.

“All this devotion is quite touching, but I can probably cure him if you give me some room,” Snape said with a sneer in his voice. “Weasley, you know the drill.”

Ron held Harry’s head and shoulders up so Snape could put the antidote in his mouth without choking him. Almost instantly, Harry’s breathing eased and his lips lost most of their blue tinge. A few moments later, he finally stopped shuddering and opened his eyes. He lay there quietly, looking up at his friends: Ron, who still held him securely in his strong arms; Ginny, who held his hand to her cheek, her face streaked with tears; Remus, his careworn face looking suddenly much older than usual; and Dumbledore, who looked grave but managed to wink at Harry when he caught his eye. Snape sat nearby, a small flagon in his hand, a surprising look of concern on his face that was instantly masked as soon as he noticed Harry looking at him.

Harry groaned as he tried to sit up.

Ron held him tightly. “Just relax, mate, I’ve got you.”

“Are you all right?” Dumbledore asked, his blue eyes full of concern.

“Never better,” he replied with a brief grin as he sat there, supported by Ron, shaking his head as if he were dizzy.

“Headache, Potter?” Snape asked.

“No, thanks, I already have one,” Harry quipped.

“Ah. His sense of humour, pathetic as it is, is intact. He’s fine,” Snape said, packing up his flagons of antidotes and the ones with the poison capsules in them.

“Professor?” Harry said, looking up at Snape.

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

Snape stood looking thoughtfully at his least-favourite pupil. After a moment, he replied, “I’m glad it worked. Try to take better care of yourself in future, all right?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said with a semblance of his cheeky grin. He leaned against Ron for a moment, then tried to sit up again.

“Be still, Mr. Potter,” Madam Pomfrey ordered in her no-nonsense tone. “You’ve just been through quite an ordeal. Please give your poor body time to recover!”

He nodded and relaxed against Ron again.

“Do you want to lie down, mate?” Ron asked, his face concerned.

“I’d rather sit up, if you can manage me,” Harry replied, still gasping a bit, and still off-colour. “I can breathe better upright,” he said resting his head against Ron’s broad shoulder. “D’you mind?”

“Nope, no problem,” Ron said, readjusting his hold so he could sit down and lean against the wall rather than kneeling. This way, Harry would be more comfortable as well.

“Thanks, mate,” Harry replied softly, resting in his friend’s arms. “I’m cold,” he murmured feebly.

Remus carefully wrapped Harry’s robe around him, keeping it loose across his back. Ginny tucked the robe in a bit more and made sure Harry was well-covered.

“Better?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Harry whispered, closing his eyes and concentrating on breathing properly. After a few moments, his colour and breathing were back to normal. He sat up straighter and looked at Dumbledore. “What happened? Why did that one make me ill?”

“I think those two were so close together, when you got one out, the other was damaged somehow. You were focusing on them one at a time, correct?” Harry nodded. “Focusing on one of those, as close as it was to the other — there might have been an ‘edge’ to the focal point of your spell that somehow broke down the capsule, releasing the toxin. And it looks like you’ve scratched at those bumps, so there was broken skin close to the bump. The toxin got into your bloodstream there, I imagine.”

“So why didn’t any of them break before?” Harry wondered. “And why didn’t they hurt me through the scratches on my back? Those were open at first. I’ve been careful not to scratch them, but these on my head drove me mad and I woke myself up scratching them. I tried not to, but I just couldn’t bear the itching.”

Snape answered. “I noticed when I got that first one out of you that there seemed to be a wall in your skin around the capsule. Your body walled off those capsules somehow, I suppose to protect you from whatever they were.”

“That’s probably the enchantment your father was working on, Harry, the one I told you about, remember?” Remus said. “He mentioned one of them was a protection against poisons.”

“Ginny’s necklace has enchantments to protect against poison too,” Ron commented. “Would they be the same?”

“I doubt it. James wasn’t sharing his research with anyone at the time, and all his notes were lost when Voldemort destroyed Godric’s Hollow,” Remus replied.

“A shame, really,” Snape conceded reluctantly. “James Potter was a git in many ways, but even I have to admit that he was inordinately good at potions. His research being lost is a terrible waste.”

Harry stared open-mouthed at Snape. He would never have expected the man to say anything that positive about his dad. It was a shock. He’d remember today for a long time, for many reasons, but this revelation of Snape’s would be near the top of the list.

Ginny was sitting next to Harry, rubbing his shoulder and arm gently. “Are you feeling better now?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah, actually I am,” he said, smiling at her.

“Let me see your scalp, Mr. Potter,” Madam Pomfrey said, leaning over Harry and Ron to examine Harry’s head. “Hmmm. Interesting.”

“What?” Harry asked.

“The antidote — or something — seems to have healed these lesions in your head. They’re barely noticeable now. I don’t think they need any ointment.” She looked him seriously in the eye. “Do you need something for pain?”

“No, I’m fine now,” he assured her.

“You’re fine now,” she said with a smile. “Are you certain?” She reached around him and touched his back very lightly, making him flinch away from her hand.

“Well, maybe a little something,” he replied ruefully.

“A little something would probably be just about right,” she commented, shaking her head and smiling at him. “It should require a lot, but you’re a remarkable young man.” She handed him a small flagon. “Two small sips.” He sipped obediently. “All right. You may grow your hair back now if you’d like.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, and started to get that thoughtful look on his face.

“Hey, mate,” Ron whispered in his ear. “Throw in a beard while you’re at it. Ginny will love it and it will freak Snape out.”

Harry chuckled, and followed Ron’s suggestion. Ginny laughed out loud when she saw his beard appear. Snape’s eyes bugged out for a second, and then he backed away from the boy, staring at him oddly.

“That’s a very nice trick, Harry,” Dumbledore said with a chuckle.

“Yeah, and Ginny loves it, don’t you?” Harry replied, reaching out to tug on Ginny’s long hair.

“Yes, I do,” she giggled.

“Let me look at your back, Mr. Potter,” Madam Pomfrey said. “I want to see how those wounds are now that the ointment has had a chance to work.” Ron helped Harry lift the robes and sit up more so she could inspect his wounds. The scratches were still there, but already healing well. The vile colours indicating infected spots had already disappeared. “I think you’ll do, Mr. Potter,” she said with a smile. “No hospital wing this time.”

“That’s great!” he said happily. He began trying to get up but was held down by Ron and Ginny until Ron could get up and help him.

“You’ve been sick, mate, take it easy!” Ron laughed as he helped Harry to his feet.

“I feel loads better now,” Harry said with a grin. “And I’ve got two redheads to lean on, so I’ll be fine,” he added, wrapping one arm around Ginny’s shoulders and grasping Ron’s broad shoulder with his other hand. Ron draped Harry’s robes around his bare shoulders.

Across the room, Hermione sat alone, tears still shining on her face. When she saw Harry looking at her, she sniffed a few times, then said, “I’m glad you’re better,” in a very small voice.

“I’m glad you’re yourself again,” he replied sincerely. He let go of the Weasleys and wobbled over to her, sitting down with a “thump” next to her. “Oops, sorry about that. Didn’t mean to fall on the furniture,” he said with a smirk. “You OK?” he asked her, leaning over to speak softly in her ear.

She looked up at him, her eyes wary and frightened. “I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t be afraid of me, Hermione. I’m not angry with you anymore. It wasn’t your fault,” Harry said kindly.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she said timidly. She glanced over his shoulder and met the eyes of his two redheaded bodyguards. “It’s them.”

“You’re afraid of Ron and Ginny?” he said, glancing from her to them in surprise. She nodded. “Why?”

“I don’t think they believe me. I don’t think they believe any of this.”

“How could they not believe you attacked me? I was scratched all over, the evidence was there. They believe that. They also saw us release you from that enchantment,” he reasoned.

“They don’t look like they believe I was enchanted,” she said, trying to make herself smaller as the Weasleys approached.

“Ginny? Ron? Do you believe she was enchanted?” Harry asked them, genuinely curious about their answers. He believed Hermione, so he thought they would too, but what if they didn’t?Both Weasleys nodded.

“They believe you. So where’s the problem?” Harry asked Hermione.

“I think it’s me,” Ginny offered. “I attacked Hermione when you collapsed.”

“You did?”

“Remember your ‘warrior princess’ crack? Well, I turned into one when you collapsed. I decked Hermione.”

“Yeah, Harry, you should’ve seen it! I didn’t know my baby sister could throw that good a punch!” Ron chortled, giving his baby sister a look of admiration.

“Learned it from Fred and George,” Ginny cracked with a cheeky grin.

“Thanks, Ron,” Hermione grumbled, pulling away from Harry’s side as if she were going to leave.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Harry said, grabbing her arm. “We’re going to straighten this out right now.”

“Straighten what out?” she asked.

“Us. All four of us,” he replied. He looked at the gathered adults, who were conferring on the opposite side of the room. “They aren’t paying any attention to us right now. We need to mend some fences. Ginny, are you angry with Hermione?”

“No. I was angry that you were hurt, but now that I’ve had time to think about it, I realize those things she put in your skin were part of the enchantment she was under, so I guess it wasn’t her fault. So no, I’m not angry with you, Hermione. I’m sorry I hit you, but I was pretty upset at the time,” Ginny said sincerely.

“Yeah, I was too,” Hermione replied. “Thanks.”

“Ron?” Harry said. “Are you still angry with Hermione?”

Ron took his time. “I was hurt. Really badly hurt. I had Harry turn me into a collie so I wouldn’t have to be me anymore, at least for a while. That was the only time I wasn’t completely miserable. You said some awful things to me, Hermione. Maybe I deserved some of them. I probably shouldn’t be jealous of Viktor Krum. Harry says he’s not jealous of Ginny’s old boyfriends, and she’s still friends with all of them. So I probably shouldn’t be jealous of Viktor Krum. But he’s . . ..” Ron hesitated, the words coming slowly and with apparent difficulty, “he’s an international Quidditch star and he’s older, and I’m just a school boy you’ve known for years. And . . . he’s rich, too. Somehow, I just don’t think I compare with him very well. I guess I shouldn’t let that bother me too much, but it does bother me. I don’t know how to overcome that. . .but I’ll try.” He stopped speaking for a moment, but everyone could see he still had more to say. “If I didn’t care about you so much, you wouldn’t be able to hurt me the way you did.”

Hermione had tears in her eyes again. “I’m so sorry, Ron. I didn’t mean those things. That wasn’t me talking. I hope you know that.”

“So do you still like me?” he asked hesitantly, his head bowed so he had to peek out from under his fringe.

“I haven’t fancied anyone else, Ron, not ever,” she replied. “That’s the truth.”

“Really?” His face was growing hopeful, a light coming back into his eyes that hadn’t been seen for weeks.

“Yes.” She reached a hesitant hand out to him, and he took it gingerly. Then he laced his fingers through hers and pulled her to her feet and into his arms.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmured as he held her.

“Me too,” she replied.

Harry smiled at them, and then pulled Ginny into his lap. “And they all lived happily ever after — at least for a day or so,” he chuckled, burying his face in the thick red hair covering her shoulders.


* * * * *


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