Where was Dumbledore, and what was he doing? Johnny caught sight of the Headmaster only twice over the next few weeks. He rarely appeared at meals anymore, and Johnny was sure Hermione was right in thinking that he was leaving the school for days at a time. Had Dumbledore forgotten the lessons he was supposed to be giving Harry and Johnny?

Halfway through October came their first trip of the term to Hogsmeade. They had wondered whether these trips would still be allowed, given the increasingly tight security measures around the school, but was pleased to know that they were going ahead; it was always good to get out of the castle grounds for a few hours.

Johnny awoke in the Gryffindor boys dormitory on the morning of the Hogwarts trip. His friends had asked him to spend the night and he found himself top and tailing with Seamus, who was practically hanging out of the bed.

"Morning," Johnny said to Harry who was reading his copy of Advance-Potion Making. Harry muttered a quiet morning back and pointed his wand at Ron, he gave it an upward flick.

"Aaaaaaaargh!"

There was a flash of light and the room was full of voices: everyone had woken up as Ron had let out a yell. Harry sent Advanced Potion-Making flying in panic; Ron was dangling upside-down in midair as though an invisible hook had hoisted him up by the ankle.

"Sorry!" yelled Harry, as Johnny, Nick, Kieran, Dean and Seamus roared with laughter, and Neville picked himself up from the floor, having fallen out of bed. "Hang on--I'll let you down--"

Harry groped for the potion book and riffled through it in a panic, trying to find the right page; at last he located it and deciphered the cramped word underneath the spell: praying that this was the counter-jinx. There was another flash of light, and Ron fell in a heap onto his mattress.

"Sorry," repeated Harry weakly, while the other boys continued to roar with laughter.

"Tomorrow," said Ron in a muffled voice, "I'd rather you set the alarm clock."

By the time Johnny, Harry and Ron had dressed, padding themselves out with several of Mrs. Weasley's hand-knitted sweaters and carrying cloaks, scarves, and gloves, Ron's shock had subsided and he had decided that the new spell was highly amusing; so amusing, in fact, that he lost no time in regaling Hermione with the story as they sat down for breakfast.

"...and then there was another flash of light and I landed on the bed again!" Ron grinned, helping himself to sausages.

Hermione hadn't cracked a smile during this anecdote, and now turned an expression of wintry disapproval upon Harry.

"Was this spell, by any chance, another one from that potion book of yours?" she asked.

Harry frowned at her.

"Always jump to the worst conclusion, don't you?"

"Was it?"

"Well... yeah, it was, but so what?"

"So you just decided to try out an unknown, handwritten incantation and see what would happen?"

"Why does it matter if it's handwritten?" said Harry, preferring not to answer the rest of the question.

"Because it's probably not Ministry of Magic approved," said Hermione. "And also," she added, as Harry and Ron rolled their eyes, "because I'm starting to think this Prince character was a bit dodgy."

Both Harry and Ron shouted her down at once.

"It was a laugh!" said Ron, upending a ketchup bottle over his sausages. "Just a laugh, Hermione, that's all!"

"Dangling people upside down by the ankle?" said Hermione. "Who puts their time and energy into making up spells like that?"

"Fred and George," said Ron, shrugging, "it's their kind of thing."

"I'm indifferent on this one," Johnny spoke up for the first time, causing all three heads to snap to him. "While I admit, it was a good laugh, Hermione's right, it was very dangerous to use it."

"And we've seen a whole bunch of people use it, in case you've forgotten. Dangling people in the air. Making them float along, asleep, helpless," said Hermione matter of factly.

"That was different," Ron said robustly. "They were abusing it. Harry was just having a laugh. You don't like the Prince, Hermione," he added, pointing a sausage at her sternly, "because he's better than you at Potions --"

"It's got nothing to do with that!" said Hermione, her cheeks reddening in anger. "I just think it's very irresponsible to start performing spells when you don't even know what they're for, and stop talking about 'the Prince' as if it's his title, I bet it's just a stupid nickname, and it doesn't seem as though he was a very nice person to me!"

"I don't see where you get that from," said Harry heatedly. "If he'd been a budding Death Eater he wouldn't have been boasting about being 'half-blood,' would he?"

"The Death Eaters aren't all Pureblood, Wormtail is Half-Blood, and besides, there aren't enough Pureblood wizards left," said Johnny defending Hermione. "Probably half of them are Half-Bloods pretending to be Pure. It's only Muggle-Borns they hate, they'd be quite happy to let the likes 0f me, you and Ron join up."

"There is no way they'd let us be Death Eaters!" said Ron indignantly, a bit of sausage flying off the fork he was now brandishing at Hermione and hitting Ernie Macmillan on the head. "We're Blood Traitors! That's as bad as Muggle-Borns to Death Eaters!"

"You speak for yourself, Weasley," growled Johnny, stabbing an egg. "I've had a psychotic father hunting me down for a year and a bit, trying to force me to join."

"They'd love to have me," said Harry sarcastically. "We'd be best pals if they didn't keep trying to do me in."

This made Ron and Johnny laugh; even Hermione gave a grudging smile, and a distraction arrived in the shape of Ginny.

"Hey, I'm supposed to give Johnny and Harry this."

It was a scroll of parchment with their names written upon it in familiar thin, slanting writing.

"Thanks, Ginny... It's Dumbledore's next lesson!" Harry told Johnny, Ron and Hermione, pulling open the parchment and quickly reading its contents. "Monday evening!" Johnny felt suddenly light and happy.

"Want to join us in Hogsmeade, Ginny?" Harry asked with a hopeful smile, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm going with Dean--might see you there," she replied, waving at them as she left.

"So, Ginny, huh?" Johnny whispered to Harry, nudging his ribs. Ron was walking ahead of them.

"Shut up," Harry whispered, punching Johnny's shoulder. Filch was standing at the oak front doors as usual, checking off the names of people who had permission to go into Hogsmeade. The process took even longer than normal as Filch was triple-checking everybody with his Secrecy Sensor.

"What does it matter if we're smuggling Dark stuff OUT?" demanded Ron, eyeing the long thin Secrecy Sensor with apprehension. "Surely you ought to be checking what we bring back IN?"

His cheek earned him a few extra jabs with the Sensor, and he was still wincing as they stepped out into the wind and sleet.

The walk into Hogsmeade wasn't enjoyable. Johnny wrapped his scarf over his lower face; the exposed part soon felt both raw and numb. The road to the village was full of students bent double against the bitter wind. More than once Johnny wondered whether they might not have had a better time in the warm common room, and when they finally reached Hogsmeade and saw that Zonko's Joke Shop had been boarded up, Johnny took it as confirmation that this trip wasn't destined to be fun. Ron pointed, with a thickly gloved hand, toward Honeydukes, which was mercifully open, and Johnny, Harry and Hermione staggered in his wake into the crowded shop.

"Thank God," shivered Ron as they were enveloped by warm, toffee-scented air. "Let's stay here all afternoon."

"Harry, Johnny, m'boys!" said a booming voice from behind them.

"Oh no," muttered Harry and Johnny muttered in unison. The four of them turned to see Professor Slughorn, who was wearing an enormous furry hat and an overcoat with matching fur collar, clutching a large bag of crystallised pineapple, and occupying at least a quarter of the shop.

"Harry, that's three of my little suppers you've missed now!" said Slughorn, poking him genially in the chest. "It won't do, m'boy, I'm determined to have you! Mr. and Mrs. Grindelwald loves them, don't you?"

"Mr and Mrs. Grindelwald?" The four asked in unison, sending each other confused glances.

"Oh, sorry all!" Slughorn chuckled cheerfully. "It's just everyone seems to think you're already married! Innocent slip of the tongue. Ms. Granger loves them don't you?"

"Y-yes," said Hermione, tremendously flustered, "they're really--"

"So why don't you come along, Harry?" demanded Slughorn.

"Well, I've had Quidditch practice, Professor," said Harry, who had indeed been scheduling practices every time Slughorn had sent him a little, violet ribbon-adorned invitation.

"Johnny manages to make it work! Well, I certainly expect Gryffindor to win their first match after all the hard work!" said Slughorn. "But a little recreation never hurt any body. Now, how about Monday night, you can't possibly want to practice in this weather..."

"We can't, Professor, we've got -- er--an appointment with Professor Dumbledore that evening."

"Unlucky again!" cried Slughorn dramatically. "Ah, well... you can't evade me forever, Harry!"

And with a regal wave, he waddled out of the shop, taking as little notice of Ron as though he had been a display of Cockroach Clusters.

"I can't believe you've both wriggled out of this," said Hermione, shaking her head. "They're not that bad, you know... they're even quite fun sometimes..." But then she caught sight of Ron's expression. "Oh, look--they've got Deluxe Sugar Quills--those would last hours!"

"They're sweet," said Johnny, trying one. He looked at Hermione with a cheesy smile. "Like you."

Hermione blushed and giggled shyly, bringing Johnny in for a quick kiss.

"Let's go to the Three Broomsticks," said Harry. "It'll be warm."

They bundled their scarves back over their faces and left the sweetshop. The bitter wind was like knives on their faces after the sugary warmth of Honeydukes. The street wasn't very busy; nobody was lingering to chat, just hurrying toward their destinations. The exceptions were two men a little ahead of them, standing just outside the Three Broomsticks. One was very tall and thin; Johnny recognised the barman who worked in the other Hogsmeade pub, the Hog's Head. As Johnny, Harry, Ron, and Hermione drew closer, the barman drew his cloak more tightly around his neck and walked away, leaving the shorter man to fumble with something in his arms. They were barely feet from him when Harry realised who the man was.

"Mundungus!"

The squat, bandy-legged man with long, straggly, ginger hair jumped and dropped an ancient suitcase, which burst open, releasing what looked like the entire contents of a junk shop window.

"Oh, 'ello, 'Arry," said Mundungus Fletcher, with a most unconvincing stab at airiness. "Well, don't let me keep ya."

And he began scrabbling on the ground to retrieve the contents of his suitcase with every appearance of a man eager to be gone.

"Are you selling this stuff?" asked Johnny, watching Mundungus grab an assortment of grubby-looking objects from the ground.

"Oh, well, gotta scrape a living," said Mundungus. "Gimme that!"

Ron had stooped down and picked up something silver.

"Hang on," Ron said slowly. "This looks familiar --"

"Thank you!" said Mundungus, snatching the goblet out of Ron's hand and stuffing it back into the case. "Well, I'll see you all--OUCH!"

Johnny had pinned Mundungus against the wall of the pub by the throat. Harry pulled out his wand and jabbed it right at Mundungus's neck.

"Boys!" squealed Hermione.

"You took that from Sirius's house," seethed Johnny, who was almost nose to nose with Mundungus and was breathing in an unpleasant smell of old tobacco and spirits. Johnny's eyes were flaming red and his claws ripped through the material of Dung's clothing.  "That had the Black family crest on it."

"I--no--what--?" spluttered Mundungus, who was slowly turning purple.

"What did you do, go back right after Sirius died?" snarled Harry. Johnny's hand tightened around Dung's throat.

"I--no--"

"Give it to me!" Snarled Harry.

"Boys, you mustn't!" shrieked Hermione, as Mundungus started to turn blue.

There was a bang, and Johnny felt his hands fly off Mundungus's throat. Gasping and spluttering, Mundungus seized his fallen case, then--CRACK-- he Disapparated.

Harry swore at the top of his voice, spinning on the spot to see where Mundungus had gone.

"COME BACK, YOU THIEVING -- !"

"There's no point, Harry," Tonks had appeared out of nowhere, her mousy hair wet with sleet. "Mundungus will probably be in London by now. There's no point yelling."

"He's nicked Sirius's stuff! Nicked it!"

"Yes, but still," said Tonks, who seemed perfectly untroubled by this piece of information. "You should get out of the cold. A word, Johnny?"

Johnny watched his friends enter the Three Broomsticks and turned only to be met with a tight hug.

"How're you doing?" Tonks's mumbled into Johnny's chest.

"I'm fine," said Johnny dismissively. "What about you?"

"Okay I suppose," Tonks mumbled, holding Johnny at arms length. She grinned. "I've met someone. Evan Daniels, a Muggle-Born werewolf."

"That's great!" Johnny exclaimed, a wide smile on his face. They proceeded to have a nice catchup for five minutes, before Tonks kissed his forehead in goodbye and Johnny entered the pub, taking a seat opposite Harry and Ron. Harry was still fuming when Hermione returned to their table a few minutes later holding four bottles of Butterbeer.

"Can't the Order control Mundungus?" Harry demanded of the other three in a furious whisper. "Can't they at least stop him stealing everything that's not fixed down when he's at headquarters?"

"Shh!" said Hermione desperately, looking around to make sure nobody was listening; there were a couple of warlocks sitting close by who were staring at Harry and Johnny with great interest, and Blaise was lolling against a pillar not far away, giving a shirt wave and a smile to the Quartet. "Harry, I'd be annoyed too, I know it's your things he's stealing--"

Johnny gagged on his Butterbeer; he had momentarily forgotten that his cousin owned number twelve, Grimmauld Place.

"Yeah, it's my stuff!" Harry said furiously. "No wonder he wasn't pleased to see me! Well, I'm going to tell Dumbledore what's going on, he's the only one who scares Mundungus."

"Good idea," whispered Hermione, clearly pleased that Harry was calming down. "Ron, what are you staring at?"

"Nothing," said Ron, hastily looking away from the bar, but Johnny knew he was trying to catch the eye of the curvy and attractive barmaid, Madam Rosmerta, for whom he had long nursed a soft spot.

"That's not what he says when he's asleep," Johnny teased, sipping his butterbeer. "Oh, Rosmerta, you're so good at that!"

Johnny, Harry and Hermione burst into loud laughter while Ron blushed furiously, covering his face. Harry was thinking about Sirius, and how he had hated those silver goblets anyway. Hermione drummed her fingers on the table, her eyes flickering between Johnny and her drink. The moment Johnny drained the last drops in his bottle he said, "Shall we call it a day and go back to school, then?"

The other three nodded; it hadn't been a fun trip and the weather was getting worse the longer they stayed. Once again they drew their cloaks tightly around them, rearranged their scarves, pulled on their gloves, then followed Katie Bell and a friend out of the pub and back up the High Street. Johnny's mind went to Tonks and her new boyfriend, happy that his sister was moving forward.

It was a little while before they became aware that the voices of Katie Bell and her friend, which were being carried back to them on the wind, had become shriller and louder. Johnny squinted at their indistinct figures. The two girls were having an argument about something Katie was holding in her hand.

"It's nothing to do with you, Leanne!" They heard Katie say.

They rounded a corner in the lane, sleet coming thick and fast, blurring Harry's glasses. Leanne made to grab hold of the package Katie was holding; Katie tugged it back and the package fell to the ground.

At once, Katie rose into the air, not as Ron had done, suspended comically by the ankle, but gracefully, her arms outstretched, as though she was about to fly. Yet there was something wrong, something eerie... Her hair was whipped around her by the fierce wind, but her eyes were closed and her face was quite empty of expression. Johnny, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Leanne had all halted in their tracks, watching.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Johnny breathed, noticing Katie's features. "She's been cursed!"

Then, six feet above the ground, Katie let out a terrible scream. Her eyes flew open but whatever she could see, or whatever she was feeling, was clearly causing her terrible anguish. She screamed and screamed; Leanne started to scream too and seized Katie's ankles, trying to tug her back to the ground. Johnny, Harry, Ron, and Hermione rushed forward to help, but even as they grabbed Katie's legs, she fell on top of them; Johnny and Ron managed to catch her but she was writhing so much they could hardly hold her. Instead they lowered her to the ground where she thrashed and screamed, apparently unable to recognise any of them.

"Katie, hey," Johnny said soothingly, kneeling down next to the girl, but it was no use.

"Stay there!" Harry shouted at the others over the howling wind. "I'm going for help!"

Harry returned two minutes later, Hagrid in toe.

"Get back!" shouted Hagrid. "Lemme see her!"

"Something's happened to her!" sobbed Leanne. "I don't know what --"

Hagrid stared at Katie for a second, then without a word, bent down, scooped her into his arms, and ran off toward the castle with her. Within seconds, Katie's piercing screams had died away and the only sound was the roar of the wind.

Hermione hurried over to Katie's wailing friend and put an arm around her.

"It's Leanne, isn't it?"

The girl nodded.

"Did it just happen all of a sudden, or--?"

"It was when that package tore," sobbed Leanne, pointing at the now sodden brown-paper package on the ground, which had split open to reveal a greenish glitter. Johnny bent down and pulled his wand out of his coat.

"Wingardium Leviosa," Johnny muttered under his breath.  An ornate opal necklace levitated out of it's wrapping.

"I've seen that before," said Harry, crouching next to Johnny and staring at the thing. "It was on display in Borgin and Burkes ages ago. The label said it was cursed. Katie must have touched it." He looked up at Leanne, who had started to shake uncontrollably. "How did Katie get hold of this?"

"Well, that's why we were arguing. She came back from the bathroom in the Three Broomsticks holding it, said it was a surprise for somebody at Hogwarts and she had to deliver it. She looked all funny when she said it... Oh no, oh no, I bet she'd been Imperiused and I didn't realise!"

Leanne shook with renewed sobs. Hermione patted her shoulder gently.

"She didn't say who'd given it to her, Leanne?"

"No... she wouldn't tell me... and I said she was being stupid and not to take it up to school, but she just wouldn't listen and... and then I tried to grab it from her... and -- and --"

Leanne let out a wail of despair.

"We'd better get up to school," said Hermione, her arm still around Leanne. "We'll be able to find out how she is. Come on..."

Johnny placed the opal necklace back in it's wrapping, ignoring Ron's gasp as he used the wrappings to pick it up.

"We'll need to show this to Madam Pomfrey," Johnny said.

As they followed Hermione and Leanne up the road. They had just entered the grounds when Harry spoke, unable to keep his thoughts to himself any longer.

"Malfoy knows about this necklace. It was in a case at Borgin and Burkes four years ago, I saw him having a good look at it while I was hiding from him and his dad. This is what he was buying that day when we followed him! He remembered it and he went back for it!"

"I--I dunno, Harry," said Ron hesitantly. "Loads of people go to Borgin and Burke... and didn't that girl say Katie got it in the girls' bathroom?"

"She said she came back from the bathroom with it, she didn't necessarily get it in the bathroom itself--"

"McGonagall!" said Ron warningly.

Johnny looked up. Sure enough, Professor McGonagall was hurrying down the stone steps through swirling sleet to meet them.

"Hagrid says you five saw what happened to Katie Bell--upstairs to my office at once, please! What's that you're holding, Grindelwald?"

"It's the thing she touched," said Johnny.

"Good Lord," said Professor McGonagall, looking alarmed as she took the necklace from Johnny. "No, no, Filch, they're with me!" she added hastily, as Filch came shuffling eagerly across the entrance hall holding his Secrecy Sensor aloft. "Take this necklace to Professor Snape at once, but be sure not to touch it, keep it wrapped in the scarf!"

Johnny and the others followed Professor McGonagall upstairs and into her office. The sleet-spattered windows were rattling in their frames, and the room was chilly despite the fire crackling in the grate. Professor McGonagall closed the door and swept around her desk to face Johnny, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the still sobbing Leanne.

"Well?" she said sharply. "What happened?"

Haltingly, and with many pauses while she attempted to control her crying, Leanne told Professor McGonagall how Katie had gone to the bathroom in the Three Broomsticks and returned holding the unmarked package, how Katie had seemed a little odd, and how they had argued about the advisability of agreeing to deliver unknown objects, the argument culminating in the tussle over the parcel, which tore open. At this point, Leanne was so overcome, there was no getting another word out of her.

"All right," said Professor McGonagall, not unkindly, "go up to the hospital wing, please, Leanne, and get Madam Pomfrey to give you something for shock."

When she had left the room, Professor McGonagall turned back to Johnny, Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"What happened when Katie touched the necklace?"

"She rose up in the air," said Harry, before either Johnny, Ron or Hermione could speak, "and then began to scream, and collapsed. Professor, can I see Professor Dumbledore, please?"

"The Headmaster is away until Monday, Potter," said Professor McGonagall, looking surprised.

"Away?" Harry repeated angrily.

"Yes, Potter, away!" said Professor McGonagall tartly. "But anything you have to say about this horrible business can be said to me, I'm sure!"

"I think Draco Malfoy gave Katie that necklace, Professor."

On one side of Harry, Johnny rubbed his nose in apparent embarrassment; on the other, Hermione shuffled her feet as though quite keen to put a bit of distance between herself and Harry.

"That is a very serious accusation, Potter," said Professor McGonagall, after a shocked pause. "Do you have any proof?"

"No," said Harry, "but..." and he told her about following Malfoy to Borgin and Burkes and the conversation they had overheard between him and Mr. Borgin.

When he had finished speaking, Professor McGonagall looked slightly confused.

"Malfoy took something to Borgin and Burkes for repair?"

"No, Professor, he just wanted Borgin to tell him how to mend something, he didn't have it with him. But that's not the point, the thing is that he bought something at the same time, and I think it was that necklace --"

"You saw Malfoy leaving the shop with a similar package?"

"No, Professor, he told Borgin to keep it in the shop for him --"

"But Harry," Hermione interrupted, "Borgin asked him if he wanted to take it with him, and Malfoy said no --"

"Because he didn't want to touch it, obviously!" said Harry angrily.

"What he actually said was, 'How would I look carrying that down the street?'" said Hermione.

"Well, he would look a bit of a prat carrying a necklace," interjected Ron.

"Oh, Ron," said Hermione despairingly, "it would be all wrapped up, so he wouldn't have to touch it, and quite easy to hide inside a cloak, so nobody would see it! I think whatever he reserved at Borgin and Burkes was noisy or bulky, something he knew would draw attention to him if he carried it down the street--and in any case," she pressed on loudly, before Harry could interrupt, "I asked Borgin about the necklace, don't you remember? When I went in to try and find out what Malfoy had asked him to keep, I saw it there. And Borgin just told me the price, he didn't say it was already sold or anything --"

"Well, you were being really obvious, he realised what you were up to within about five seconds, of course he wasn't going to tell you--anyway, Malfoy could've sent off for it since --"

"Stop bickering, I'm getting a migraine!" said Johnny, rubbing his forehead, as Hermione opened her mouth to retort, looking furious.

"Potter, I appreciate you telling me this, but we cannot point the finger of blame at Mr. Malfoy purely because he visited the shop where this necklace might have been purchased. The same is probably true of hundreds of people, and in any case, we have put stringent security measures in place this year. I do not believe that necklace can possibly have entered this school without our knowledge --"

"But --"

"-- and what is more," said Professor McGonagall, with an air of awful finality, "Mr. Malfoy was not in Hogsmeade today."

Harry gaped at her, deflating.

"How do you know, Professor?"

"Because he was doing detention with me. He has now failed to complete his Transfiguration homework twice in a row. So, thank you for telling me your suspicions, Potter," she said as she marched past them, "but I need to go up to the hospital wing now to check on Katie Bell. Good day to you all."

She held open her office door. They had no choice but to file past her without another word.

Harry was angry with the other three for siding with McGonagall; nevertheless, he felt compelled to join in once they started discussing what had happened.

"So who do you reckon Katie was supposed to give the necklace to?" asked Johnny, as they climbed the stairs to the Gryffindor common room.

"Goodness only knows," said Hermione. "But whoever it was has had a narrow escape. No one could have opened that package without touching the necklace."

"It could've been meant for loads of people," said Harry. "Dumbledore--the Death Eaters would love to get rid of him, he must be one of their top targets. Or Slughorn -- Dumbledore reckons Voldemort really wanted him and they can't be pleased that he's sided with Dumbledore. Or --"

"Or Johnny," said Hermione, looking troubled.

"Or Harry," said Ron pointedly.

"Couldn't have been," said Harry, "or Katie would've just turned around in the lane and given it to me or Johnny, wouldn't she? We was behind her all the way out of the Three Broomsticks. It would have made much more sense to deliver the parcel outside Hogwarts, what with Filch searching everyone who goes in and out. I wonder why Malfoy told her to take it into the castle?"

"Harry, for fuck sake, Malfoy wasn't in Hogsmeade!" said Johnny, actually stamping his foot in frustration.

"He must have used an accomplice, then," said Harry. "Crabbe or Goyle--or, come to think of it, another Death Eater, he'll have loads better cronies than Crabbe and Goyle now he's joined up --"

Johnny, Ron and Hermione exchanged looks that plainly said, "There's no point arguing with him."

"Dilligrout," said Hermione firmly as they reached the Fat Lady.

The portrait swung open to admit them to the common room. It was quite full and smelled of damp clothing; many people seemed to have returned from Hogsmeade early because of the bad weather. There was no buzz of fear or speculation, however: clearly, the news of Katie's fate had not yet spread.

"You've got weird passwords," said Johnny, casually shoving a first year of the sofa by the fire and pulling Hermione by the waist, so she was sat on his lap.

"It wasn't a very slick attack, really, when you stop and think about it," said Ron, also casually shoving a first year out of one of the good armchairs by the fire so that he could sit down. "The curse didn't even make it into the castle. Not what you'd call foolproof."

"You're right," said Hermione, nuzzling her head in the crook of Johnny's neck and inhaling his cologne. "It wasn't very well thought-out at all."

"But since when has Malfoy been one of the world's great thinkers?" asked Harry.

Neither Johnny, Ron nor Hermione answered him.

Katie was removed to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries the following day, by which time the news that she had been cursed had spread all over the school, though the details were confused and nobody other than Johnny, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Leanne seemed to know that Katie herself hadn't been the intended target.

"Oh, and Malfoy knows, of course," said Harry to Ron and Hermione, who had their new policy of feigning deafness whenever Harry mentioned his Malfoy-Is-a-Death-Eater theory. Johnny, however, always listened to his theories, no matter how daft they were.

Harry and Johnny had been wondering whether Dumbledore would return from wherever he had been in time for Monday night's lesson, but having had no word to the contrary, they presented themselves outside Dumbledore's office at eight o'clock, knocked, and was told to enter. There sat Dumbledore looking unusually tired; his hand was as black and burned as ever, but he smiled when he gestured to Harry and Johnny to sit down. The Pensieve was sitting on the desk again, casting silvery specks of light over the ceiling.

"You have had a busy time while I have been away," Dumbledore said. "I believe you both witnessed Katie's accident."

"Yes, sir. How is she?" Johnny and Harry said in unison.

"Still very unwell, although she was relatively lucky. She appears to have brushed the necklace with the smallest possible amount of skin; there was a tiny hole in her glove. Had she put it on, had she even held it in her ungloved hand, she would have died, perhaps instantly. Luckily Professor Snape was able to do enough to prevent a rapid spread of the curse --"

"Why him?" asked Harry quickly. "Why not Madam Pomfrey?"

"Impertinent," said a soft voice from one of the portraits on the wall, and Phineas Nigellus Black, Sirius's great-great-grandfather, raised his head from his arms where he had appeared to be sleeping. "I would not have permitted a student to question the way Hogwarts operated in my day."

"Yes, thank you, Phineas," said Dumbledore quellingly. "Professor Snape knows much more about the Dark Arts than Madam Pomfrey, Harry. Anyway, the St. Mungo's staff are sending me hourly reports, and I am hopeful that Katie will make a full recovery in time."

"Where were you this weekend, sir?" Harry asked, disregarding a strong feeling that he might be pushing his luck, a feeling apparently shared by Phineas Nigellus, who hissed softly.

"I would rather not say just now," said Dumbledore. "However, I shall tell you both in due course."

"You will?" said Johnny, hopefully.

"Yes, I expect so," said Dumbledore, withdrawing a fresh bottle of silver memories from inside his robes and uncorking it with a prod of his wand.

"Sir," said Harry tentatively, "We met Mundungus in Hogsmeade."

"Ah yes, I am already aware that Mundungus has been treating your inheritance with light-fingered contempt," said Dumbledore, frowning a little. "He has gone to ground since you accosted him outside the Three Broomsticks; I rather think he dreads facing me. However, rest assured that he will not be making away with any more of Sirius's old possessions."

"That mangy old half-blood has been stealing Black heirlooms?" said Phineas Nigellus, incensed; and he stalked out of his frame, undoubtedly to visit his portrait in number twelve, Grimmauld Place.

"Professor," said Harry, after a short pause, "did Professor McGonagall tell you what I told her after Katie got hurt? About Draco Malfoy?"

"She told me of your suspicions, yes," said Dumbledore.

"And do you--?"

"I shall take all appropriate measures to investigate anyone who might have had a hand in Katie's accident," said Dumbledore. "But what concerns me now, Harry, is our lesson."

"You will remember, I am sure, that we left the tale of Lord Voldemort's beginnings at the point where the handsome Muggle, Tom Riddle, had abandoned his witch wife, Merope, and returned to his family home in Little Hangleton. Merope was left alone in London, expecting the baby who would one day become Lord Voldemort."

"How do you know she was in London, sir?" Johnny piped up.

"Because of the evidence of one Caractacus Burke," said Dumbledore, "who, by an odd coincidence, helped found the very shop whence came the necklace we have just been discussing."

He swilled the contents of the Pensieve as they had seen him swill them before, much as a gold prospector sifts for gold. Up out of the swirling, silvery mass rose a little old man revolving slowly in the Pensieve, silver as a ghost but much more solid, with a thatch of hair that completely covered his eyes.

"Yes, we acquired it in curious circumstances. It was brought in by a young witch just before Christmas, oh, many years ago now. She said she needed the gold badly, well, that much was obvious. Covered in rags and pretty far along... going to have a baby, see. She said the locket had been Slytherin's. Well, we hear that sort of story all the time, 'Oh, this was Merlin's, this was, his favorite teapot,' but when I looked at it, it had his mark all right, and a few simple spells were enough to tell me the truth. Of course, that made it near enough priceless. She didn't seem to have any idea how much it was worth. Happy to get ten Galleons for it. Best bargain we ever made!"

Dumbledore gave the Pensieve an extra-vigorous shake and Caractacus Burke descended back into the swirling mass of memory from whence he had come.

"He only gave her ten Galleons?" said Johnny, wincing.

"Caractacus Burke was not famed for his generosity," said Dumbledore. "So we know that, near the end of her pregnancy, Merope was alone in London and in desperate need of gold, desperate enough to sell her one and only valuable possession, the locket that was one of Marvolo's treasured family heirlooms."

"But she could do magic!" said Harry impatiently. "She could have got food and everything for herself by magic, couldn't she?"

"Ah," said Dumbledore, "perhaps she could. But it is my belief--I am guessing again, but I am sure I am right--that when her husband abandoned her, Merope stopped using magic. I do not think that she wanted to be a witch any longer. Of course, it is also possible that her unrequited love and the attendant despair sapped her of her powers; that can happen. In any case, as you are about to see, Merope refused to raise her wand even to save her own life."

"She wouldn't even stay alive for her son?" Johnny whispered, but they heard him.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.

"Could you possibly be feeling sorry for Lord Voldemort?"

"No," said Johnny quickly, "but she had a choice, didn't she, not like my aunt --"

"Your aunt had a choice too," said Dumbledore gently. "Yes, Merope Riddle chose death in spite of a son who needed her, but do not judge her too harshly, Johnny. She was greatly weakened by long suffering and she never had your aunt's courage. And now, if you will stand ..."

"Where are we going?" Harry asked, as Dumbledore joined them at the front of the desk.

"This time," said Dumbledore, "we are going to enter my memory. I think you will find it both rich in detail and satisfyingly accurate. We're visiting an Orphanage both Voldemort and Johnny attended."

"Me? Orphanage?" Johnny asked in confusion.

"Yes, you attended this specific Orphanage before Adya and Luca picked you. After you..."

Johnny bent over the Pensieve; his face broke the cool surface of the memory and then he was falling through darkness again... Seconds later, his feet hit firm ground; he opened his eyes and found that he, Harry and Dumbledore were standing in a bustling, old-fashioned London street.

"There I am," said Dumbledore brightly, pointing ahead of them to a tall figure crossing the road in front of a horse-drawn milk cart.

This younger Albus Dumbledore's long hair and beard were auburn. Having reached their side of the street, he strode off along the pavement, drawing many curious glances due to the flamboyantly cut suit of plum velvet that he was wearing.

"Nice suit, sir," said Johnny, before he could stop himself, but Dumbledore merely chuckled as they followed his younger self a short distance, finally passing through a set of iron gates into a bare courtyard that fronted a rather grim, square building surrounded by high railings. He mounted the few steps leading to the front door and knocked once. After a moment or two, the door was opened by a scruffy girl wearing an apron.

"Good afternoon. I have an appointment with a Mrs. Cole, who, I believe, is the matron here?"

"Oh," said the bewildered-looking girl, taking in Dumbledore's eccentric appearance. "Um... just a mo... MRS. COLE!" she bellowed over her shoulder.

Johnny heard a distant voice shouting something in response. The girl turned back to Dumbledore.

"Come in, she's on 'er way."

Dumbledore stepped into a hallway tiled in black and white; the whole place was shabby but spotlessly clean. Johnny, Harry and the older Dumbledore followed. Before the front door had closed behind them, a skinny, harassed-looking woman came scurrying toward them. She had a sharp-featured face that appeared more anxious than unkind, and she was talking over her shoulder to another aproned helper as she walked toward Dumbledore.

"... and take the iodine upstairs to Martha, Billy Stubbs has been picking his scabs and Eric Whalley's oozing all over his sheets--chicken pox on top of everything else," she said to nobody in particular, and then her eyes fell upon Dumbledore and she stopped dead in her tracks, looking as astonished as if a giraffe had just crossed her threshold.

"Good afternoon," said Dumbledore, holding out his hand.

Mrs. Cole simply gaped.

"My name is Albus Dumbledore. I sent you a letter requesting an appointment and you very kindly invited me here today."

Mrs. Cole blinked. Apparently deciding that Dumbledore was not a hallucination, she said feebly, "Oh yes. Well--well then--you'd better come into my room. Yes."

She led Dumbledore into a small room that seemed part sitting room, part office. It was as shabby as the hallway and the furniture was old and mismatched. She invited Dumbledore to sit on a rickety chair and seated herself behind a cluttered desk, eyeing him nervously.

"I am here, as I told you in my letter, to discuss Tom Riddle and arrangements for his future," said Dumbledore.

"Are you family?" asked Mrs. Cole.

"No, I am a teacher," said Dumbledore. "I have come to offer Tom a place at my school."

"What school's this, then?"

"It is called Hogwarts," said Dumbledore.

"And how come you're interested in Tom?"

"We believe he has qualities we are looking for."

"You mean he's won a scholarship? How can he have done? He's never been entered for one."

"Well, his name has been down for our school since birth --"

"Who registered him? His parents?"

There was no doubt that Mrs. Cole was an inconveniently sharp woman. Apparently Dumbledore thought so too, for Johnny now saw him slip his wand out of the pocket of his velvet suit, at the same time picking up a piece of perfectly blank paper from Mrs. Cole's desktop.

"Here," said Dumbledore, waving his wand once as he passed her the piece of paper, "I think this will make everything clear."

Mrs. Cole's eyes slid out of focus and back again as she gazed intently at the blank paper for a moment.

"That seems perfectly in order," she said placidly, handing it back. Then her eyes fell upon a bottle of gin and two glasses that had certainly not been present a few seconds before.

"Er--may I offer you a glass of gin?" she said in an extra-refined voice.

"Thank you very much," said Dumbledore, beaming.

It soon became clear that Mrs. Cole was no novice when it came to gin drinking. Pouring both of them a generous measure, she drained her own glass in one gulp. Smacking her lips frankly, she smiled at Dumbledore for the first time, and he didn't hesitate to press his advantage.

"I was wondering whether you could tell me anything of Tom Riddle's history? I think he was born here in the orphanage?"

"That's right," said Mrs. Cole, helping herself to more gin. "I remember it clear as anything, because I'd just started here myself. New Year's Eve and bitter cold, snowing, you know. Nasty night. And this girl, not much older than I was myself at the time, came staggering up the front steps. Well, she wasn't the first. We took her in, and she had the baby within the hour. And she was dead in another hour."

Mrs. Cole nodded impressively and took another generous gulp of gin.

"Did she say anything before she died?" asked Dumbledore. "Anything about the boy's father, for instance?"

"Now, as it happens, she did," said Mrs. Cole, who seemed to be rather enjoying herself now, with the gin in her hand and an eager audience for her story. "I remember she said to me, 'I hope he looks like his papa,' and I won't lie, she was right to hope it, because she was no beauty--and then she told me he was to be named Tom, for his father, and Marvolo, for her father--yes, I know, funny name, isn't it? We wondered whether she came from a circus--and she said the boy's surname was to be Riddle. And she died soon after that without another word.

"Well, we named him just as she'd said, it seemed so important to the poor girl, but no Tom nor Marvolo nor any kind of Riddle ever came looking for him, nor any family at all, so he stayed in the orphanage and he's been here ever since."

Mrs. Cole helped herself, almost absent-mindedly, to another healthy measure of gin. Two pink spots had appeared high on her cheekbones. Then she said, "He's a funny boy."

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "I thought he might be."

"He was a funny baby too. He hardly ever cried, you know. And then, when he got a little older, he was... odd."

"Odd in what way?" asked Dumbledore gently.

"Well, he --"

But Mrs. Cole pulled up short, and there was nothing blurry or vague about the inquisitorial glance she shot Dumbledore over her gin glass.

"He's definitely got a place at your school, you say?"

"Definitely," said Dumbledore.

"And nothing I say can change that?"

"Nothing," said Dumbledore.

"You'll be taking him away, whatever?"

"Whatever," repeated Dumbledore gravely.

She squinted at him as though deciding whether or not to trust him. Apparently she decided she could, because she said in a sudden rush, "He scares the other children."

"You mean he is a bully?" asked Dumbledore.

"I think he must be," said Mrs. Cole, frowning slightly, "but it's very hard to catch him at it. There have been incidents... nasty things ..."

Dumbledore didn't press her, though Johnny could tell that he was interested. She took yet another gulp of gin and her rosy cheeks grew rosier still.

"Billy Stubbs's rabbit... well, Tom said he didn't do it and I don't see how he could have done, but even so, it didn't hang itself from the rafters, did it?"

"I shouldn't think so, no," said Dumbledore quietly.

"But I'm jiggered if I know how he got up there to do it. All I know is he and Billy had argued the day before. And then--"Mrs. Cole took another swig of gin, slopping a little over her chin this time, "on the summer outing--we take them out, you know, once a year, to the countryside or to the seaside--well, Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop were never quite right afterwards, and all we ever got out of them was that they'd gone into a cave with Tom Riddle. He swore they'd just gone exploring, but something happened in there, I'm sure of it. And, well, there have been a lot of things, funny things..."

She looked around at Dumbledore again, and though her cheeks were flushed, her gaze was steady.

"I don't think many people will be sorry to see the back of him."

"You understand, I'm sure, that we will not be keeping him permanently?" said Dumbledore. "He will have to return here, at the very least, every summer."

"Oh, well, that's better than a whack on the nose with a rusty poker," said Mrs. Cole with a slight hiccup. She got to her feet, and Johnny was impressed to see that she was quite steady, even though two-thirds of the gin was now gone. "I suppose you'd like to see him?"

"Very much," said Dumbledore, rising too.

She led him out of her office and up the stone stairs, calling out instructions and admonitions to helpers and children as she passed. The orphans, Johnny saw, were all wearing the same kind of grayish tunic. They looked reasonably well-cared for, but there was no denying that this was a grim place in which to grow up. He was so thankful for Luca and Adya in that moment.

"Here we are," said Mrs. Cole, as they turned off the second landing and stopped outside the first door in a long corridor. She knocked twice and entered.

"Tom? You've got a visitor. This is Mr. Dumberton--sorry, Dunderbore. He's come to tell you--well, I'll let him do it."

Johnny, Harry and the two Dumbledores entered the room, and Mrs. Cole closed the door on them. It was a small bare room with nothing in it except an old wardrobe and an iron bedstead. A boy was sitting on top of the gray blankets, his legs stretched out in front of him, holding a book.

There was no trace of the Gaunts in Tom Riddle's face. Merope had got her dying wish: he was his handsome father in miniature, tall for eleven years old, dark-haired, and pale. His eyes narrowed slightly as he took in Dumbledore's eccentric appearance. There was a moment's silence.

"How do you do, Tom?" said Dumbledore, walking forward and holding out his hand.

The boy hesitated, then took it, and they shook hands. Dumbledore drew up the hard wooden chair beside Riddle, so that the pair of them looked rather like a hospital patient and visitor.

"I am Professor Dumbledore."

"'Professor'?" repeated Riddle. He looked wary. "Is that like 'doctor'? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?"

He was pointing at the door through which Mrs. Cole had just left.

"No, no," said Dumbledore, smiling.

"I don't believe you," said Riddle. "She wants me looked at, doesn't she? Tell the truth!"

He spoke the last three words with a ringing force that was almost shocking. It was a command, and it sounded as though he had given it many times before. His eyes had widened and he was glaring at Dumbledore, who made no response except to continue smiling pleasantly. After a few seconds Riddle stopped glaring, though he looked, if anything, warier still.

"Who are you?"

"I have told you. My name is Professor Dumbledore and I work at a school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you a place at my school--your new school, if you would like to come."

Riddle's reaction to this was most surprising. He leapt from the bed and backed away from Dumbledore, looking furious.

"You can't kid me! The asylum, that's where you're from, isn't it? 'Professor,' yes, of course--well, I'm not going, see? That old cat's the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they'll tell you!

"I am not from the asylum," said Dumbledore patiently. "I am a teacher and, if you will sit down calmly, I shall tell you about Hogwarts. Of course, if you would rather not come to the school, nobody will force you --"

"I'd like to see them try," sneered Riddle.

"Hogwarts," Dumbledore went on, as though he hadn't heard Riddle's last words, "is a school for people with special abilities --"

"I'm not mad!"

"I know that you are not mad. Hogwarts is not a school for mad people. It is a school of magic."

There was silence. Riddle had frozen, his face expressionless, but his eyes were flickering back and forth between each of Dumbledore's, as though trying to catch one of them lying.

"Magic?" he repeated in a whisper.

"That's right," said Dumbledore.

"It's... it's magic, what I can do?"

"What is it that you can do?"

"All sorts," breathed Riddle. A flush of excitement was rising up his neck into his hollow cheeks; he looked fevered. "I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to."

His legs were trembling. He stumbled forward and sat down on the bed again, staring at his hands, his head bowed as though in prayer.

"I knew I was different," he whispered to his own quivering fingers. "I knew I was special. Always, I knew there was something."

"Well, you were quite right," said Dumbledore, who was no longer smiling, but watching Riddle intently. "You are a wizard."

Riddle lifted his head. His face was transfigured: there was a wild happiness upon it, yet for some reason it did not make him better looking; on the contrary, his finely carved features seemed somehow rougher, his expression almost bestial.

"Are you a wizard too?"

"Yes, I am."

"Prove it," said Riddle at once, in the same commanding tone he had used when he had said, "Tell the truth."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "If, as I take it, you are accepting your place at Hogwarts--"

"Of course I am!"

"Then you will address me as 'Professor' or 'sir.'"

Riddle's expression hardened for the most fleeting moment before he said, in an unrecognizably polite voice, "I'm sorry, sir. I meant--please, Professor, could you show me--?"

Johnny was sure that Dumbledore was going to refuse, that he would tell Riddle there would be plenty of time for practical demonstrations at Hogwarts, that they were currently in a building full of Muggles and must therefore be cautious. To his great surprise, however, Dumbledore drew his wand from an inside pocket of his suit jacket, pointed it at the shabby wardrobe in the corner, and gave the wand a casual flick.

The wardrobe burst into flames.

Riddle jumped to his feet; Harry and Johnny could hardly blame him for howling in shock and rage; all his worldly possessions must be in there. But even as Riddle rounded on Dumbledore, the flames vanished, leaving the wardrobe completely undamaged.

Riddle stared from the wardrobe to Dumbledore; then, his expression greedy, he pointed at the wand. "Where can I get one of them?"

"All in good time," said Dumbledore. "I think there is something trying to get out of your wardrobe."

And sure enough, a faint rattling could be heard from inside it. For the first time, Riddle looked frightened.

"Open the door," said Dumbledore.

Riddle hesitated, then crossed the room and threw open the wardrobe door. On the topmost shelf, above a rail of threadbare clothes, a small cardboard box was shaking and rattling as though there were several frantic mice trapped inside it.

"Take it out," said Dumbledore.

Riddle took down the quaking box. He looked unnerved.

"Is there anything in that box that you ought not to have?" asked Dumbledore.

Riddle threw Dumbledore a long, clear, calculating look. "Yes, I suppose so, sir," he said finally, in an expressionless voice.

"Open it," said Dumbledore.

Riddle took off the lid and tipped the contents onto his bed without looking at them. Harry, who had expected something much more exciting, saw a mess of small, everyday objects: a yo-yo, a silver thimble, and a tarnished mouth organ among them. Once free of the box, they stopped quivering and lay quite still upon the thin blankets.

"You will return them to their owners with your apologies," said Dumbledore calmly, putting his wand back into his jacket. "I shall know whether it has been done. And be warned: thieving is not tolerated at Hogwarts."

Riddle didn't look remotely abashed; he was still staring coldly and appraisingly at Dumbledore. At last he said in a colorless voice, "Yes, sir."

"At Hogwarts," Dumbledore went on, "we teach you not only to use magic, but to control it. You have -- inadvertently, I am sure--been using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our school. You are not the first, nor will you be the last, to allow your magic to run away with you. But you should know that Hogwarts can expel students, and the Ministry of Magic--yes, there is a Ministry--will punish lawbreakers still more severely. All new wizards must accept that, in entering our world, they abide by our laws."

"Yes, sir," said Riddle again.

It was impossible to tell what he was thinking; his face remained quite blank as he put the little cache of stolen objects back into the cardboard box. When he had finished, he turned to Dumbledore and said baldly, "I haven't got any money."

"That is easily remedied," said Dumbledore, drawing a leather money-pouch from his pocket. "There is a fund at Hogwarts for those who require assistance to buy books and robes. You might have to buy some of your spellbooks and so on secondhand, but --"

"Where do you buy spellbooks?" interrupted Riddle, who had taken the heavy money bag without thanking Dumbledore, and was now examining a fat gold Galleon.

"In Diagon Alley," said Dumbledore. "I have your list of books and school equipment with me. I can help you find everything --"

"You're coming with me?" asked Riddle, looking up.

"Certainly, if you --"

"I don't need you," said Riddle. "I'm used to doing things for myself, I go round London on my own all the time. How do you get to this Diagon Alley--sir?" he added, catching Dumbledore's eye.

Johnny thought that Dumbledore would insist upon accompanying Riddle, but once again he was surprised. Dumbledore handed Riddle the envelope containing his list of equipment, and after telling Riddle exactly how to get to the Leaky Cauldron from the orphanage, he said, "You will be able to see it, although Muggles around you--non-magical people, that is--will not. Ask for Tom the barman--easy enough to remember, as he shares your name --"

Riddle gave an irritable twitch, as though trying to displace an irksome fly.

"You dislike the name 'Tom'?"

"There are a lot of Toms," muttered Riddle. Then, as though he couldn't suppress the question, as though it burst from him in spite of himself, he asked, "Was my father a wizard? He was called Tom Riddle too, they've told me."

"I'm afraid I don't know," said Dumbledore, his voice gentle.

"My mother can't have been magic, or she wouldn't have died," said Riddle, more to himself than Dumbledore. "It must've been him. So--when I've got all my stuff-- when do I come to this Hogwarts?"

"All the details are on the second piece of parchment in your envelope," said Dumbledore. "You will leave from King's Cross Station on the first of September. There is a train ticket in there too."

Riddle nodded. Dumbledore got to his feet and held out his hand again. Taking it, Riddle said, "I can speak to snakes. I found out when we've been to the country on trips--they find me, they whisper to me. Is that normal for a wizard?"

Johnny could tell that he had withheld mention of this strangest power until that moment, determined to impress.

"It is unusual," said Dumbledore, after a moment's hesitation, "but not unheard of."

His tone was casual but his eyes moved curiously over Riddle's face. They stood for a moment, man and boy, staring at each other. Then the handshake was broken; Dumbledore was at the door.

"Goodbye, Tom. I shall see you at Hogwarts."

"I think that will do," said the white-haired Dumbledore at Harry's and Johnny's side, and seconds later, they were soaring weightlessly through darkness once more, before landing squarely in the present-day office.

"Sit down," said Dumbledore, landing beside Harry and Johnny.

They obeyed, their minds still full of what they had just seen.

"He believed it much quicker than I did--I mean, when you told him he was a wizard," said Johnny. "I didn't believe Professor McGonagall at first, when she told me."

"Yes, Riddle was perfectly ready to believe that he was--to use his word--'special,'" said Dumbledore.

"Did you know--then?" asked Harry, hesitantly.

"Did I know that I had just met the most dangerous Dark wizard of all time?" said Dumbledore. "No, I had no idea that he was to grow up to be what he is. However, I was certainly intrigued by him. I returned to Hogwarts intending to keep an eye upon him, something I should have done in any case, given that he was alone and friendless, but which, already, I felt I ought to do for others' sake as much as his.

"His powers, as you heard, were surprisingly well-developed for such a young wizard and--most interestingly and ominously of all--he had already discovered that he had some measure of control over them, and begun to use them consciously. And as you saw, they were not the random experiments typical of young wizards: he was already using magic against other people, to frighten, to punish, to control. The little stories of the strangled rabbit and the young boy and girl he lured into a cave were most suggestive... I can make them hurt if I want to..."

"And he was a Parselmouth," interjected Harry.

"Yes, indeed; a rare ability, and one supposedly connected with the Dark Arts, although as we know, there are Parselmouths among the great and the good too. In fact, his ability to speak to serpents did not make me nearly as uneasy as his obvious instincts for cruelty, secrecy, and domination. Time is making fools of us again," said Dumbledore, indicating the dark sky beyond the windows. "But before we part, I want to draw your attention to certain features of the scene we have just witnessed, for they have a great bearing on the matters we shall be discussing in future meetings. Firstly, I hope you noticed Riddle's reaction when I mentioned that another shared his first name, 'Tom'?"

Harry and Johnny nodded.

"There he showed his contempt for anything that tied him to other people, anything that made him ordinary. Even then, he wished to be different, separate, notorious. He shed his name, as you know, within a few short years of that conversation and created the mask of 'Lord Voldemort' behind which he has been hidden for so long. I trust that you also noticed that Tom Riddle was already highly self-sufficient, secretive, and, apparently, friendless? He did not want help or companionship on his trip to Diagon Alley. He preferred to operate alone. The adult Voldemort is the same. You will hear many of his Death Eaters claiming that they are in his confidence, that they alone are close to him, even understand him. They are deluded. Lord Voldemort has never had a friend, nor do I believe that he has ever wanted one."

"And lastly... I hope you are not too sleepy to pay attention to this, boys --the young Tom Riddle liked to collect trophies. You saw the box of stolen articles he had hidden in his room. These were taken from victims of his bullying behaviour, souvenirs, if you will, of particularly unpleasant bits of magic. Bear in mind this magpie-like tendency, for this, particularly, will be important later. And now, it really is time for bed."

Harry and Johnny got to their feet. As they walked across the room, Johnny's eyes fell upon the little table on which Marvolo Gaunt's ring had rested last time, but the ring was no longer there.

"Yes, Johnny?" said Dumbledore, for Johnny had come to a halt. Harry spun around to look at his cousin.

"The ring's gone," said Johnny, looking around. "But I thought you might have the mouth organ or something."

Dumbledore beamed at him, peering over the top of his half-moon spectacles.

"Very astute, Johnny, but the mouth organ was only ever a mouth organ."

And on that enigmatic note he waved to Harry and Johnny, who understood themselves to be dismissed.

Johnny had Herbology first thing the following morning. He and Harry had been unable to tell Ron and Hermione about their lesson with Dumbledore over breakfast for fear of being overheard, but they filled them in as they walked across the vegetable patch toward the greenhouses. The weekend's brutal wind had died out at last; the weird mist had returned and it took them a little longer than usual to find the correct greenhouse.

"Wow, scary thought, the boy You-Know-Who," said Ron quietly, as they took their places around one of the gnarled Snargaluff stumps that formed this term's project, and began pulling on their protective gloves. "But I still don't get why Dumbledore's showing you all this. I mean, it's really interesting and everything, but what's the point?"

"Dunno," said Johnny, inserting a gum shield. "But he says its all important and it'll help Harry and I survive."

"As long as you both survive, that's all that matters," said Hermione earnestly. "And I think it's fascinating. It makes absolute sense to know as much about Voldemort as possible. How else will you find out his weaknesses?"

"So how was Slughorn's latest party?" Harry asked her thickly through the gum shield.

"Oh, it was quite fun, really," said Hermione, now putting on protective goggles. "I mean, he drones on about famous exploits a bit, and he absolutely fawns on McLaggen because she's so well connected, but he gave us some really nice food and he introduced us to Gwenog Jones."

"Gwenog Jones?" said Ron, his eyes widening under his own goggles. "The Gwenog Jones? Captain of the Holyhead Harpies?"

"That's right," said Hermione. "Personally, I thought she was a bit full of herself, but --"

"Quite enough chat over here!" said Professor Sprout briskly, bustling over and looking stern. "You're lagging behind, everybody else has started, and Neville's already got his first pod!"

They looked around; sure enough, there sat Neville with a bloody lip and several nasty scratches along the side of his face, but clutching an unpleasantly pulsating green object about the size of a grapefruit.

"Okay, Professor, we're starting now!" said Ron, adding quietly, when she had turned away again, "Should've used Muffliato."

"No, we shouldn't!" said Hermione at once, looking, as she always did, intensely cross at the thought of the Half-Blood Prince and his spells. "Well, come on ... we'd better get going..."

She gave the other three an apprehensive look; they all took deep breaths and then dived at the gnarled stump between them.

It sprang to life at once; long, prickly, bramble-like vines flew out of the top and whipped through the air. One tangled itself in Hermione's hair, and Johnny beat it back with a pair of secateurs; Harry succeeded in trapping a couple of vines and knotting them together; a hole opened in the middle of all the tentacle-like branches; Hermione plunged her arm bravely into this hole, which closed like a trap around her elbow; Johnny, Harry and Ron tugged and wrenched at the vines, forcing the hole to open again, and Hermione snatched her arm free, clutching in her fingers a pod just like Neville's. At once, the prickly vines shot back inside, and the gnarled stump sat there looking like an innocently dead lump of wood.

"You know, I don't think I'll be having any of these in my garden when I've got my own place," said Ron, pushing his goggles up onto his forehead and wiping sweat from his face.

"Same," Johnny panted, turning towards Hermione with a grin. "Let's just have the nice flowers. Like roses, and lilies, and tulips."

Hermione smiled at the thought of having a nice home with Johnny, and leaned over to kiss his scarred cheek.

"Pass me a bowl," said Hermione, holding the pulsating pod at arm's length; Johnny handed one over and she dropped the pod into it with a look of disgust on her face.

"Don't be squeamish, squeeze it out, they're best when they're fresh!" called Professor Sprout.

"Anyway," said Hermione, continuing their interrupted conversation as though a lump of wood had not just attacked them, "Slughorn's going to have a Christmas party, boys, and there's no way you'll be able to wriggle out of this one because he actually asked me to check your both free evenings, so he could be sure to have it on a night you can both come."

Harry and Johnny groaned. Meanwhile, Ron, who was attempting to burst the pod in the bowl by putting both hands on it, standing up, and squashing it as hard as he could, said angrily, "And this is another party just for Slughorn's favorites, is it?"

"Just for the Slug Club, yes," said Hermione.

The pod flew out from under Ron's fingers and hit the green house glass, rebounding onto the back of Professor Sprout's head and knocking off her old, patched hat. Johnny went to retrieve the pod; when he got back, Hermione was saying, "Look, I didn't make up the name 'Slug Club' --"

"'Slug Club,'" repeated Ron with a sneer worthy of Draco. "It's pathetic. Well, I hope you enjoy your party. You and Johnny will be going then? Good, maybe Slughorn can make you King and Queen Slug-"

"We're allowed to bring guests," said Hermione, who turned scarlet in anger, "and I overheard Padma Patil was going to ask you to come, but if you think it's that stupid then I'll tell her not bother!"

Johnny suddenly wished the pod had flown a little farther, so that he wasn't sitting here with the pair of them. Unnoticed by either, he and Harry seized the bowl that contained the pod and began to try and open it by the noisiest and most energetic means he could think of; unfortunately, they could still hear every word of their conversation.

"She was going to ask me?" asked Ron, in a completely different voice.

"Yes," said Hermione angrily. "But obviously if you'd rather her hooked up with Belby..."

"No, I wouldn't," said Ron, in a very quiet voice.

"Aw, look, Ron's in love," Johnny teased him, just as Harry broke the bowl.

"Reparo," Harry said hastily, poking the pieces with his wand, and the bowl sprang back together again.

"Hand that over, Harry," said Hermione hurriedly. "It says we're supposed to puncture them with something sharp..."

Harry passed her the pod in the bowl; he, Johnny and Ron both snapped their goggles back over their eyes and dived, once more, for the stump.

"Gotcha!" yelled Ron, pulling a second pod from the stump just as Hermione managed to burst the first one open, so that the bowl was full of tubers wriggling like pale green worms.

"Why did I take this fucking class?" Johnny groaned.

"Because you need an E in Herbology to become a Potions Master?" Said Hermione with a cheeky grin.

"Touché," said Johnny, kissing her cheek.

The rest of the lesson passed without further mention of Slughorn's party.

Katie Bell was still in St. Mungo's Hospital with no prospect of leaving, which meant that the promising Gryffindor team Harry had been training so carefully since September was one Chaser short. He kept putting off replacing Katie in the hope that she would return, but their opening match against Slytherin was looming, and he finally had to accept that she wouldn't be back in time to play.

This brought immense satisfaction to Johnny, the Slytherin Captain.

Johnny could tell that Harry couldn't stand another full-House tryout. He cornered Dean Thomas after Transfiguration one day. Most of the class had already left, although several twittering yellow birds were still zooming around the room, all of Hermione's and Johnny's creations; nobody else had succeeded in conjuring so much as a feather from thin air.

"Are you still interested in playing Chaser?" Harry asked him.

"Why... yeah, of course!" said Dean excitedly. Over Dean's shoulder, Harry and Johnny saw Seamus Finnegan slamming his books into his bag, looking sour. One

"Well then, you're in," said Harry. "There's a practice tonight, nine o'clock."

"Good luck," Johnny told him, a mischievous looking smirk on his face as he held out his hand for Dean to shake. "You'll need it."

"Right," said Dean, now nervous, as he shook Johnny's hand. "Cheers, Harry! Blimey, I can't wait to tell Ginny!"

He sprinted out of the room, leaving Johnny, Harry and Seamus alone together, an uncomfortable moment made no easier when a bird dropping landed on Seamus's head as one of Hermione's canaries whizzed over them.

"How come you're loved for picking your friends for the team, but I'm not?" Harry asked Johnny one day during Charms. Harry was receiving abuse from Gryffindor for picking Dean as Katie's replacement, as it meant he had three classmates on the team now. Nick Sawyer was once again chosen for the third Chasers spot, while Kieran Winston had made it as one of the Beaters, and then there was Ron who managed to make it once again as Keeper, even though he was the cause of Slytherin winning the cup last year.

Johnny, however was being praised immensely for his selection. Mia, his Co-Captain, had once again made it as Keeper, while Theodore Nott and Vincent Crabbe had been selected as Beaters, Blaise and Tom were once again Chasers alongside Johnny. Their only replacement had been their Seeker. Draco had stepped down at the beginning of the year, leading Johnny to pick Daphne Greengrass as Slytherin's new Seeker. They were all good friends to Johnny, yet no one seemed to be slandering him about it.

"Because no one dares to get on the King of Supernatural's bad side," Johnny explained like it was obvious. "And then theirs the fact I've got a psycho father."

Johnny watched the Gryffindor's practice under the disguise of Colin Creevey that night. Professor Snape had granted Johnny the use of Polyjuice Potion, and Johnny managed to sneak into Colin's dorm while he and his dorm mates were out and steal hair from his bed. It was disgusting, but worthwhile, when all Johnny had to do was act like an overexcited fifteen year old with a camera.

Johnny knew instantly that Ron was an inconsistent player, and the prospect of facing Slytherin was bringing out all his past insecurities. After letting in half a dozen goals, most of them scored by Ginny, his technique became wilder and wilder, until he finally punched an oncoming Demelza Robins in the mouth.

Johnny was snickering from where he sat, disguised as Colin Creevey.

"It was an accident, I'm sorry, Demelza, really sorry!" Ron shouted after her as she zigzagged back to the ground, dripping blood everywhere. "I just --"

"Panicked," Ginny said angrily, landing next to Demelza and examining her fat lip. "You prat, Ron, look at the state of her!"

"I can fix that," said Harry, landing beside the two girls, pointing his wand at Demelzas mouth, and saying "Episkey." "And Ginny, don't call Ron a prat, you're not the Captain of this team--"

"Well, you seemed too busy to call him a prat and I thought someone should--"

"In the air, everyone, let's go..."

Johnny snapped a picture of the Gryffindor team arguing amongst themselves. If they kept this up, it meant an easy win for Slytherin. When the practice was over, the Polyjuice Potion Johnny used wore off and Johnny quickly ran behind the stadium to change back into his own clothes, before throwing the clothes he borrowed of Colin into a near by bush and pocketed the pictures he took.

Johnny entered the changing rooms just as Harry began to talk.

"Good work, everyone, I think we'll flatten Slytherin," Harry said bracingly, and the Chasers and Beaters left the changing room looking reasonably happy with themselves.

"Get fucked," Johnny chuckled, leaning against the doorway. The Gryffindor team glared at him, but Johnny just held his hands up in surrender as they walked past, each of them bumping into his shoulder.

"I played like a sack of dragon dung," said Ron in a hollow voice when the door had swung shut behind Ginny.

Johnny went to say yes, but was stopped by a harsh punch to the gut from Harry.

"No, you didn't," said Harry firmly. "You're the best Keeper I tried out, Ron. Your only problem is nerves. Are you coming with us to the common room?"

He directed the question at Johnny, who nodded.

Harry kept up a relentless flow of encouragement all the way back to the castle, and by the time they reached the second floor, Ron was looking marginally more cheerful. When Johnny pushed open the tapestry to take their usual shortcut up to Gryffindor Tower, however, they found themselves looking at Dean and Ginny, who were locked in a close embrace and kissing fiercely as though glued together.

"Oi!"

Dean and Ginny broke apart and looked around.

"What?" said Ginny.

"I don't want to find my own sister snogging people in public!"

"This was a deserted corridor till you came butting in!" said Ginny.

Dean was looking embarrassed. He gave Harry and Johnny a shifty grin, that Harry didn't return.

"Er... c'mon, Ginny," said Dean, "let's go back to the common room..."

"You go!" said Ginny. "I want a word with my dear brother!"

Dean left, looking as though he was not sorry to depart the scene.

"Right," said Ginny, tossing her long red hair out of her face and glaring at Ron, "let's get this straight once and for all. It is none of your business who I go out with or what I do with them, Ron--"

"Yeah, it is!" said Ron, just as angrily. "D' you think I want people saying my sister's a --"

"A what?" shouted Ginny, drawing her wand. "A what, exactly?"

"He doesn't mean anything, Ginny --" said Johnny automatically.

"Oh yes he does!" she said, flaring up at Johnny. "Just because he's never snogged anyone in his life, just because the best kiss he's ever had is from our Auntie Muriel --"

"Shut your mouth!" bellowed Ron, bypassing red and turning maroon.

"No, I will not!" yelled Ginny, beside herself. "I've seen you with Phlegm, hoping she'll kiss you on the cheek every time you see her, it's pathetic! If you went out and got a bit of snogging done yourself, you wouldn't mind so much that everyone else does it!"

Ron had pulled out his wand too; Harry and Johnny stepped swiftly between them.

"You don't know what you're talking about!" Ron roared, trying to get a clear shot at Ginny around Harry, who was now standing in front of her with his arms outstretched. "Just because I don't do it in public--!"

Ginny screamed with derisive laughter, trying to push Johnny out of the way.

"Been kissing Pigwidgeon, have you? Or have you got a picture of Auntie Muriel stashed under your pillow?"

"You --"

A streak of orange light flew under Johnny's left arm and missed Ginny by inches; Harry pushed Ron up against the wall.

"Don't be stupid --"

"Harry's snogged Cho Chang!" shouted Ginny, who sounded close to tears now. "And Hermione has kissed Krum-"

"Didn't need to mention that though did you," said Johnny through a grimace, remembering that horrible feeling two years ago.

"-and her and Johnny have shagged, it's only you who acts like it's something disgusting, Ron, and that's because you've got about as much experience as a twelve-year-old!"

And with that, she stormed away. Harry quickly let go of Ron; the look on his face was murderous. The three of them stood there, breathing heavily, until Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat, appeared around the corner, which broke the tension.

"C'mon," said Johnny, as the sound of Filch's shuffling feet reached their ears.

They hurried up the stairs and along a seventh-floor corridor. "Oi, out of the way!" Ron barked at a small girl who jumped in fright and dropped a bottle of toad-spawn.

"D'you think Hermione did snog Krum?" Ron asked abruptly, as they approached the Fat Lady.

"You were there when Hermione and I broke up for a week because of it, you daft bastard!" Johnny yelled, causing Ron to clench his jaw. "Dilligrout," Johnny said darkly to the Fat Lady, and they climbed through the portrait hole into the common room.

"What was that about?" Hermione asked as Ron and Harry stormed up to the Gryffindor Dorms, and Johnny took a seat next to Hermione. Hermione straddled Johnny's waist, setting her Ancient Runes book on the table.

"Ginny and Ron had an argument," Johnny explained, resting his head on the back of the sofa and stroking Hermione's hip softly. "He caught Dean and Ginny making out, and went to call her a whore, so Ginny exploded and mentioned how Ron's jealous because he hasn't snogged anyone, and Harry snogged Cho, you snogged Krum-"

"Krum snogged me," Hermione corrected him. Johnny nodded.

"Yes, that," said Johnny with disgust written on his face. "And how we've done it, so he's a bit pissy."

It was silent between the couple, they were just staring at each other with love in their eyes.

"You're not mad about the whole Krum thing, are you?" Hermione asked in an insecure voice. "I-it's just you can do so much better than me-"

Johnny cut her off by gripping her by the waist and kissing her passionately. The common room was empty by now, it was reaching 10:45. Hermione let out a quiet moan as he hands ran through Johnny's hair, her hands coming to rest at the back of Johnny's neck, playing with his baby hairs.

Johnny flipped them, so they were sideways on the sofa and he was hovering over her.

"You're the best I could ask for," Johnny whispered when he broke the kiss. Hermione smiled, leaning up to capture Johnny's lips once more.

Johnny awoke next morning feeling slightly dazed and confused, as Ron, who wasn't only cold-shouldering Ginny and Dean, but also treating a hurt and bewildered Hermione with an icy, sneering indifference. What was more, Ron seemed to have become, overnight, as touchy and ready to lash out as the average Blast-Ended Skrewt. Harry and Johnny spent the day attempting to keep the peace between Ron and Hermione with no success; finally, Hermione departed for bed in high dudgeon, and Ron stalked off to the boys' dormitory after swearing angrily at several frightened first-years for looking at him. Johnny just gave a simple shrug and stalked off to the Slytherin dungeons.

To Harry's dismay, Ron's new aggression did not wear off over the next few days. Worse still, it coincided with an even deeper dip in his Keeping skills, which made him still more aggressive, so that during the final Quidditch practice before Saturday's match, he failed to save every single goal the Chasers aimed at him, but bellowed at everybody so much that he almost reduced Kieran to tears. Johnny, watching from the side under the identity of a third year Gryffindor, felt sorry for the lad.

"You shut up and leave him alone!" shouted Nick, who was about Ron's height, though admittedly carrying a heavy bat he had yanked out of Jimmy's hands.

"ENOUGH!" bellowed Harry, who had seen Ginny glowering in Ron's direction and, remembering her reputation as an accomplished caster of the Bat-Bogey Hex, soared over to intervene before things got out of hand. "Peakes, go and pack up the Bludgers. Kieran, pull yourself together, you played really well today. Ron..." he waited until the rest of the team were out of earshot before saying it, "you're my best mate, but carry on treating the rest of them like this and I'm going to kick you off the team."

Harry really thought for a moment that Ron might hit him, but then something much worse happened: Ron seemed to sag on his broom. all the fight went out of him and he said, "I resign. I'm pathetic."

"You're not pathetic and you're not resigning!" said Harry fiercely, seizing Ron by the front of his robes. "You can save anything when you're on form, it's a mental problem you've got!"

"You calling me mental?"

"Yeah, maybe I am!"

They glared at each other for a moment, then Ron shook his head wearily.

"I know you haven't got any time to find another Keeper, so I'll play tomorrow, but if we lose, and we will, I'm taking myself off the team."

Though Johnny wanted Slytherin to win, he also wanted a proper game, so when he tried boosting Ron's confidence that night at dinner, he was shocked when Ron punched him.

"Ron, mate, you're a brilliant keeper, you just need confidence," Johnny said, laying his fork down. He was sat next to Ron with Hermione and Harry opposite them. It came so sudden that Johnny didn't have time to dodge it. Ron had punched him in the jaw, ultimately breaking it.

"Yer' roke my uckin' jaw!" Johnny yelled, wincing in pain as the Great Hall went silent, looking at the two friends in shock. Harry and Hermione watched from where they were sat, frozen in place. "I ill' yer! Yer at' uckin' astard!"

Johnny launched himself forward, aiming nasty blows to Ron's body. Suddenly, like time had unfrozen, the Great Hall was a burst of noise again. Students were chanting names, insults and more slurs at the boys, edging them on more. They formed such a circle around them, none of the teachers could get through to stop them.

"I een' othin' ut nice ter yer!" Johnny yelled, aiming a punch at Ron's ribs. When Ron doubled over in pain, holding what was probably a few broken ribs, Johnny kneed him in the face, breaking his nose for good measure.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Professor McGonagall yelled furiously, managing to get through the tight circle of students, followed quickly by Professor Snape, Slughorn, Sprout and Sinstra. Johnny was ultimately restrained by Professor Snape and Slughorn, while Ron was restrained by Professor Sprout and Sinstra. "Well?!"

"It was Weasley, who started it, Professor!" Piped up a Hufflepuff third year. "I saw him throw the first punch!"

"Is this true, Weasley?" McGonagall asked, glancing from Ron to Johnny, who was having his jaw fixed by Madam Pompfry, Snape and Slughorn still stood around him.

"Yes," Ron whispered, but the silence of the Great Hall meant everyone heard him.

"What in Earth urged you to throw a punch at Grindelwald!?" McGonagall bellowed, smoke practically coming out of her ears.

"He was mocking me!"

"I called you a great keeper!" Johnny shouted, instantly getting shushed by McGonagall with a glare.

"A-and I'm jealous," Ron admitted in a defeated tone, before his voice and eyes hardened he glared at Johnny. "He took everything from me."

"That's funny," Johnny said with a bitter laugh. "You've got nothing worth my time."

The whole school watched in anticipation, waiting for Johnny to wolf out and lose his temper.

"Quieten down, Johnny," Snape muttered in his ear. "You are not in the wrong, don't give Professor McGonagall an excuse for you to be."

"Weasley, why were you jealous?" McGonagall asked him, stroking her temple.

"Well, it's Johnny Grindelwald, ain't it?" Ron sneered, shrugging off Professor Sprout and Sinstra. "Perfect Johnny Grindelwald. He gets the Quidditch Captain, the girl, the money, the looks, and then there's me. His stupid best friend."

"Do you like my girlfriend, Weasel!?" Johnny asked furiously, his eyes flashing the dangerous red. He glanced at Hermione who was still sat down, chewing her nails anxiously as she looked between her boyfriend and Ron.

"Yeah! I do!" Ron admitted. "And I'd be a damn better boyfriend than you are!"

"Funny," Johnny said sarcastically. "How's that then, Weasel?"

"I'm not a fucking werewolf!" Ron yelled, no one noticing how he drew his wand from his pocket. "I don't have an insane father, a lunatic grandfather, a crazy fucking step-mother and a dyke for a mother! I don't have a fucked up family."

"Don't you dare insult my mother!" Johnny spat. It was in fact true, that Evelyn had realised she was gay once she had managed to flee Azkaban with Johnny. Everyone had been extremely supportive. Everyone watched in shock as Johnny grew large amounts of hair sprouted Johnny and the boy grew in size. He had fully shifted into a ten foot tall werewolf, with flaming red eyes, razor sharp teeth, and large claws.

A/n: You'll have to imagine the red eyes.

Everyone screamed, bar Hermione, Harry and the teachers, in terror as the large werewolf roared, his large feet cracking the stone floor. Johnny, who appeared to have no control over himself, roared once more, slowly edging towards Ron who was watching the werewolf with immense terror.

"Incarcerous!" McGonagall cried, and thick ropes wrapped themselves around the werewolf, restraining him. Hermione barged through the crowd, shoving past Ron along her way and fell to her knees next to the thrashing werewolf.

"Detention, Weasley, for next two terms," McGonagall said, panting heavily. When Ron went to object, McGonagall cut him off. "For starting a fight, calling someone's mother an extremely offensive term, and antagonising another student. Be thankful I haven't kicked you off the Quidditch team!"

The crowd of students disbanded, going back to their common rooms, Ron storming out after them. All the teachers, minus Snape and McGonagall had left too, leaving Harry, Hermione, McGonagall, Madam Pompfry and a thrashing werewolf in the Great Hall.

"Baby," Hermione whispered softly, taking ahold of the werewolf's snout. The werewolf seemed to calm under it's mates touch, and it whimpered as it's legs snapped into their original position and it's snout shortened. McGonagall let the binds drop, as Johnny now sobbed into Hermione's chest, his clothes ripped.

"Ms. Granger, Mr. Grindelwald can stay in one of the private Hogwarts dorms tonight," McGonagall informed her. "It's best if he doesn't see anyone for a while."

"I-I," Johnny stuttered, trying to get his words out, but it was only filled with more sobs.

"It's okay, Johnny," said Snape softly, a new side to him. The usually angry and cold Professor looked kind and caring in this moment. "No one blames you."

"Can I stay with them too, Professor?" Harry asked McGonagall hopefully. When she nodded, Harry wrapped Johnny's arm around his shoulder and helped Hermione support Johnny as they began their walk throughout the castle.

The next day, Hermione informed Professor Snape that Johnny was resigning from Quidditch, and Slytherin had to bring their reserve Chaser in last minute. Hermione returned to the private dormitory which was like a mini apartment, bringing breakfast from the Great Hall.

"I'm not hungry," said Johnny, turning over in the bed to look away from Hermione, put to where he could see the crowd gathering at the Quidditch pitch.

"You've got to eat," Hermione whispered, placing the plate of breakfast assortments on the bedside table and laying down behind Johnny, wrapping her arms around his waist. Johnny turned towards Hermione, resting his head on her chest, listening to her beating heart.

"I-I scared everyone, a-and I scared myself, a-and I scared you," Johnny whimpered, feeling like crying once more.

"You didn't scare me," Hermione admitted in a whisper, her hand through Johnny's hair. "I'll admit it was a surprise. Besides, the whole school will forget about it after the match."

Johnny nodded weakly, and sat up with his legs crossed. Hermione ended up feeding Johnny, and they spent the whole day together in that dorm. Using the binoculars from the Quidditch World Cup, they watched the Gryffindor vs Slytherin match from the window, Hermione often cracking jokes which would send both of them into fits laughter, they even played ordinary Muggle chess, Johnny winning each time as Hermione still didn't understand the Sicilian Defence.

Ultimately though, Gryffindor had won the Quidditch match, and how Hermione had persuaded Johnny to attend the after party, he didn't know, but here he was, stood near the entrance to the Gryffindor Tower, glass of Firewhiskey in hand as he listened to Nick and Harry tell him how they gave Ron a beat down on Johnny's behalf.

Flashback to the previous night
To say most people were pissed at Ron would be a large understatement. There was a large group of people from different houses gathered in the Gryffindor common room waiting for the redhead.

A group of five Slytherin's which included Theodore Nott, Blaise, Mia, Pansy, Tom and Daphne were there, ready to defend their best friend.

The Gryffindor's included the likes of Nick, Harry, Selena and even Ginny.

The Hufflepuff's included Ernie McMillan, Justin Filch-Fletchly and their gang of friends, who considered Johnny a good friend too.

Their was only one Ravenclaw there, however, and that was Axel.

When the portrait hole opened, and a fuming Ron froze at the sight of them, he realised how bad this situation was.

"You know, you're going to wish Johnny had killed you," said Nick, clearly the ring leader of this gang of students. He stood from his place besides the fire, and cracked his knuckles.

'"Why's that?" Ron asked with a fake air of confidence. Selena and Mia gave identical dark chuckles.

"Because we'd do a lot worse," said Nick, and Selena threw the first punch. Ron, who had his broken nose fixed, cried out in pain as his nose broke once more. One by one, a student would come and punch or kick Ron (Mia, Pansy and even Ginny kicking him in the balls) and they would storm off, either to their dorm (if they were from Gryffindor) or out of the common room if they were from another house.

Harry was the only one left, and looked at his best friend with a disappointed and angry look.

"We're still friends, but fuck you, Ron," was all that Harry muttered, kicking Ron who was sprawled out on the floor.

Flashback end
"That means a lot to me," Johnny admitted, patting Nick's shoulder in a appreciation. Nick waved him off and went to find his girlfriend, leaving Johnny and Hermione alone.

"Poor Padma," said Hermione, watching Ron and Lavender make out in the centre of the room. The Ravenclaw brushed passed them, tears falling freely down her face. "Let's go after her."

Hermione led Johnny by the hand out of the Gryffindor common room. They found her in the first unlocked classroom they tried. Padma was sitting on the teacher's desk, alone except for a small ring of twittering yellow birds circling her head, which she had clearly just conjured out of midair. Hermione and Johnny couldn't help admiring her spell-work at a time like this.

"Oh, hello, Hermione, Johnny," she said in a brittle voice. "I was just practicing."

"Yeah... they're--er -- really good..." said Johnny, not knowing what to say.

"Ron seems to be enjoying the celebrations."

"Er... does he?" said Hermione, glancing at Johnny who shrugged.

"Don't pretend you didn't see him," said Padma. "He wasn't exactly hiding it, was--?"

The door behind them burst open. To Johnny's horror, Ron came in, laughing, pulling Lavender by the hand.

"Oh," he said, drawing up short at the sight of Padma, Johnny and Hermione.

"Oops!" said Lavender, and she backed out of the room, giggling. The door swung shut behind her.

There was a horrible, swelling, billowing silence. Both Johnny and Padma were staring at Ron in anger. Ron, however, refused to look at them, but said with an odd mixture of bravado and awkwardness, "Hi, Hermione! Wondered where you'd got to!"

Padma slid off the desk. The little flock of golden birds continued to twitter in circles around her head so that she looked like a strange, feathery model of the solar system.

"You shouldn't leave Lavender waiting outside," Padma said quietly. "She'll wonder where you've gone."

She walked very slowly and erectly toward the door. Johnny shot a glance at Ron, who was looking relieved that nothing worse had happened.

"Oppugno!" came a shriek from the doorway.

Both Johnny and Hermione spun around to see Padma pointing her wand at Ron, her expression wild: the little flock of birds was speeding like a hail of fat golden bullets toward Ron, who yelped and covered his face with his hands, but the birds attacked, pecking and clawing at every bit of flesh they could reach.

"Gerremoffme!" he yelled, but with one last look of vindictive fury, Padma wrenched open the door and disappeared through it. Johnny thought he heard a sob before it slammed.