Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. All characters and setting that you recognize belong to JK Rowling.

First things first, a huge thank you goes out to my betas (my GSP police), Fabiana and Pen, for taking the time out of their own busy schedules to help me and who did such a great job with this chapter. And for allowing me to pester them endlessly online. You two are the best! Secondly, to all my reviewers…thank you! And I'm going to try a new format of sorts, which means author's notes will now be at the bottom.

***

Fear in me so deep

It gets the best of me

Into fear I fall

Here it comes face to face with me.

"Downfall" TrustCompany

***

~*~

"So," Ron flopped down on his bed across from Harry once they were safely tucked away after lunch, "are you going to tell me what's bothering you?" he asked, studying the black-haired boy with a critical eye.

Harry sighed and stared at the floor, twisting the hem of his shirt between his fingers before finally speaking. "I don't know," he sighed again, still not looking at Ron.

"What don't you know?" Ron probed, knowing that Harry usually kept his feelings bottled up inside. It was almost as if he was afraid to share them with anyone lest they'd think he was a bother. Usually one had to urge him to share his feelings.

Harry shook his head and then rubbed his face with his hands. "I don't know," he repeated himself. "I just-- I just can't help but think that what happened last night has something to do with me," he shrugged his shoulders and stared at his hands, which were clenching and unclenching in his lap.

"Harry…" Ron began slowly, desperately searching his mind for the right words so he wouldn't jam his foot in his mouth by saying something tactless.

"Don't, Ron," Harry shook his head and held out a hand to stop the flow of words. "I know what you'd say," he offered a weak smile. "You'd say the same thing Hermione told me this afternoon."

"Well," Ron smiled sheepishly, "Hermione could be right you know. What happened might have been an accident. Maybe she had a nervous breakdown of sorts," he speculated with a shrug and gesture of his hands.

"Right," Harry snorted, finding it slightly amusing that Ron would be trying to logically analyze the situation. "Which I'd be inclined to believe if her roommate hadn't been babbling about shadows," he turned his piercing eyes towards his friend.

"Okay fine," Ron relented, and stood up to pace the length of their room with his hands clasped behind his back. "Let's say you're right. Let's say whatever happened to the Hufflepuff is somehow related to you," he stopped his pacing and turned to face Harry. "Why?" Ron asked simply, shrugging his shoulder and spreading his hands. "Why a Hufflepuff and what do shadows have to do with anything? And how does an attack on Hufflepuff affect you? Why not Gryffindor instead?"

"I dunno," Harry replied softly and then groaned as he flopped backwards on his bed. "But I will tell you one thing. I don't think it has anything to do with Voldemort."

Ron flinched slightly at the mention of the Dark Lord's name. "How'd you know that?"

"My scar," Harry said simply, staring upwards at the ceiling. "It never hurt. Hasn't hurt for quite sometime so far …" he trailed off, a thoughtful look clouding his features. "Odd isn't it?" he asked out loud.

"Maybe You-Know-Who's finally up and died," Ron said rather hopefully. "After that spell and all that Dumbledore and the Order cast."

"One can only hope," Harry gave a slight smile. "Maybe you should talk to Justin, Ron," he advised. "See if he knows anything that Dumbledore and the others wouldn't tell us."

The redhead nodded. "Alright," he agreed. "I'll see what I can do."

***

"Albus," Minerva McGonagall nervously wrung her hands as she paced the length of the Headmaster's quarters, "what are we going to do?" There was no need to elaborate on what she was referring to; quite honestly, it was the only thing that students and teachers alike could think about.

The Headmaster sat behind his large desk, hands folded neatly on the desktop, watching the head of Gryffindor through his half-moon glasses as a smile played across his lips. "Minerva," he said, calmly, patiently. "Please, sit down," he gestured to the chair across from him.

She froze mid-step and pursed her lips tighter together before giving into his request. With a low sigh, she lowered herself into the cozy armchair and sat primly, her hands folded tightly together in her lap, her back ramrod straight. "This isn't a laughing matter," she reminded him, although not as sharply as she would have addressed anyone else, as she caught the slight smile that played about his lips.

"Of course not, Professor," Dumbledore nodded, his eyes grave. "You're correct, this isn't a laughing matter."

There was a moment of silence before McGonagall broke it. "This isn't something that we can keep quiet for long. Students have already begun to send owls home to their parents and you know they will begin to demand an explanation," she paused. "What do we tell them?" She looked towards the silent Headmaster for a sign that things would be alright, as memories from four years earlier flooded her mind.

Dumbledore nodded, solemnly running a hand down his beard as she spoke. "That, Minerva, I don't know," he shook his head and looked towards Fawkes, who was perched comfortably on the top of a bookshelf. "I'm afraid I have no answers to give. At least not now," he sighed heavily, then rose to his feet and crossed the room to stand before a heavily laden bookshelf, his eyes skimming across the titles neatly written on their spines.

"Do you think …" McGonagall's voice faltered momentarily, as she fought to regain her composure when his answer failed to reassure her. "Do you think this could be the work of You-Know-Who?" she asked, anxiously, wanting proof that there was something human, something solid that they could fight against. She'd been terrified that Hogwarts had been on the verge of being shut down during the whole Chamber of Secrets fiasco, but this new development left her guessing and grasping at straws for answers. And Minerva McGonagall hated being without answers even more so than being interrupted during a lecture.

For a moment, Dumbledore's smile wavered and the twinkle disappeared from his eyes. "My dear Professor," he said, slowly, "no, I don't think it's Voldemort. But something older, darker," he turned to face her, all traces of humor gone from his face.

"Older?" she inquired sternly, taking on a wary look as she peered out of her spectacles, trying to remain calm and controlled.

"Much older," Dumbledore repeated softly with a nod of his head, not offering any more information, much to McGonagall's annoyance. "But first, we need to speak with Ms. Applebaum's roommate. Perhaps she can shed some more light on the situation at hand. Until then, Minerva," he turned his intense gaze on her once more, "I suggest that we keep our eyes and ears open." He paused. "I fear this is only the beginning in what will prove to be a long, hard road for us to travel."

***

Four Gryffindors were camped out in the common room. Harry and Hermione took up residence on one of the overstuffed armchairs near the stone fireplace, while Ron and Lavender cuddled next to each other on the couch. It was unusually silent in the large room. Most weekends consisted of various groups of Gryffindors huddled together round the large table, some studying, some gossiping, and some playing games like Exploding Snap or wizard's chess. Today, however, no one was much in the mood for games, not after what had happened the night before. Muted voices could be heard, and terrifying rumors were the topic of the day rather than Potions or Charms homework.

All around the school, dozens of students were whispering in small groups about recent events. With each whisper, imaginations ran wild, thinking of any and every possible scenario. Owls were flying rapidly to and from the Owlrey, no doubt delivering the news back home and receiving word from worried parents. Lavender had been tempted to send word to her parents as well, but decided against it, as no one really knew what had happened.

"Reckon Dumbledore will say anything anytime soon?" Ron asked as he twirled a lock of Lavender's blonde hair around his finger. "I mean, from the number of owls that are going back and forth from here, you know what happened last night will be all over the wizarding world by morning," he snorted. "I wouldn't be surprised if there was a write up about it tonight in the Evening Prophet."

Harry sighed while Hermione stifled a groan at Ron's words. "That wretched Skeeter woman will no doubt jump at the chance to somehow relate this to Harry as well," she shook her head, her mouth turned down at the corners in a frown as she thought of the conniving Rita Skeeter. "And if that happens…" she didn't finish speaking. Her words lingered in the air, allowing each to imagine possible consequences of the treacherous reporter getting wind of the news.

"Ugh," Lavender shivered and snuggled closer to Ron. "I just can't imagine," she wrung her hands in her lap as she spoke. "No one knows what's going on. And her parents--" her eyes grew wider at the thought. "What are they going to tell her parents?"

"I dunno," Harry said heavily, dragging a hand roughly through his hair, before heaving a low sigh then directing his attention towards Hermione. "Do you fancy a walk?" he asked as he nudged her on the side with his elbow, wanting to escape the feeling of depression that was floating about the school.

"Sure," she slid out of the chair and smoothed down her skirt. "I'll just go fetch my cloak," she threw the words back over her shoulder as she picked her way across the room and towards the stairs.

Harry nodded. "How about you two?" he arched an eyebrow as he looked at the snuggling couple. "Want to join us?" he invited.

"No thanks, mate," Ron shook his head. "It looks a mite too cold outside for me. Besides I'm feeling quite cozy here," he dropped Lavender a wink and gave her a light squeeze. She blushed in response.

"Alright then," Harry smiled slightly, then rose from the chair to meet Hermione at the bottom of the stairs after she emerged from her dorm room. "We'll see you later," he looked directly at Ron, who gave him a slight nod of understanding at his look.

***

"Bit chilly out isn't it?" Hermione shivered as they stepped out into the crisp air. Her breath left her nose in twinjets of steam, as she and Harry made their way across the courtyard and headed down to the lakeside. The grass crunched loudly under their feet, the light frost that had settled turning them into brittle blades of green streaked with brown. She shivered again. "It's not supposed to be this cold yet," she tucked her hands into the pockets of her cloak. "You'll freeze to death when you play Quidditch this term. You ought to put a warming charm on your robes if you can." She looked at him. "You are playing this term, right?"

"Yeah, I guess so. I've already talked to the new captain about it," Harry nodded, thankful that he'd put on his warmest jumper that morning. It was a wooly green one that he'd gotten from Mrs. Weasley last Christmas, complete with the large letter H that had been gracing practically every jumper he'd received from her over the years. "Is it too cold for you?" he asked, tilting his head to get a look at her. "We could go back inside if you want," he stopped, half-turning back towards the castle, after he saw her slightly shiver and hitch her cloak around her more securely.

"No, no, it's okay," she assured him and put a hand on his arm to keep him where he was. "It'll just take some getting used to, I suppose," her cheeks were turning a rosy pink, thanks to the chilly air that surrounded them. Her hair was pulled back. Several golden strands had fought their way free of their binds and were now floating happily on the slight breeze. "See? I'm better already," she smiled and did a slight twirl around, her cloak swishing about her ankles. "Besides, I'd rather be out here with you, than inside," she stopped twirling and stared out over Hogwarts lake. The cold air was in sharp contrast to the warm lake, where steam rose up off the cloudy water in great columns of mist.

His breath caught in his throat as he watched her. He knew that she would never consider herself breathtakingly beautiful, and certainly not likely to grace the cover of Witch Weekly Magazine. But right at that moment, with her cheeks stained red, her hair dancing about her face, and her brown eyes shining, complete with a backdrop of fall colors and the steaming water, he'd never seen her look more beautiful. He was lost in a trance, completely unaware that she'd turned to face him and was currently giving him an odd look.

"What?" her eyebrow was arched and she had a quizzical look on her face. "Harry? Are you alright?" she asked, waving a gloved hand in front of his face to get his attention.

He finally broke free of his stupor, giving a quick shake of his head to focus his attention on her question. "I'm fine," he cleared his throat, then tucked a piece of flyaway hair behind her ear. "Just thinking how beautiful you are," he said softly, leaving his hand resting against her cheek.

She blushed a darker shade of red and dropped her eyes to stare at the tips of her shoes. "Thank you," she murmured softly before raising her head and giving him a wide smile. "I'm not perfect you know."

He shrugged. "So you may not think you're perfect," he stepped closer to her. "And I most certainly don't care if you are or not. All I know, Hermione, is that you mean the world to me. Your friendship is a gift that I never expected to have. And your love…" he searched for the right words.

"Shh," she raised a finger to his lips to silence him. "I know," she placed her hands on either side of his face. "You don't have to tell me, Harry, I already know," she gave him a small smile.

He gave a slight nod and settled his own hands on her swell of her hips. "I mean it, you know," he murmured as she tugged his head down.

"I know," she whispered again, raising herself on tiptoe and placing her lips on his. After a few moments, both pulled back, their faces a bit redder than before. Hermione giggled lightly at the gobsmacked look on his face. She then tugged at his arm, a silent signal that they should keep moving or suffer the consequences of frozen feet.

He allowed her to pull him along, his hand curled firmly around hers as they approached the edge where the water was lazily lapping against the sandy beach. Letting go of her hand, Harry bent and snagged several small stones. Straightening, he began to plunk them one by one into the water while Hermione sat on a large rock next to him, watching his antics with an amused smile. Farther out, towards the center, the Giant Squid broke the surface of the murky waters, felt the sting of the cold air, and then dove back down below the warmth.

Above them, more owls swooped down towards Hogwarts, no doubt carrying frantic letters from worried parents. Upon seeing them, Harry finished throwing his remaining stones and then wiped his hands on his trousers, all the while keeping his eyes trained upwards.

"What are we going to do, Hermione?" he asked, his eyes following the descent of the birds.

"I don't know," she answered, softly. "I just don't know," her teeth worked on her lower lip. "But there must be something going on," she racked her brain. "There's got to be. I can't imagine that her roommate had to be sedated as well, if it were an accident or something natural."

"Shadows," Harry whispered, more to himself than Hermione, his eyes still fixed on the darkening sky above, which was streaked with inky black clouds staining the gray with their skeletal shapes.

"Excuse me?" she asked, a note of alarm in her voice as she stared at him.

"Hmm?" he dropped his eyes.

"You said something about shadows," her eyebrows knit together and her lower lip was pulled between her teeth.

"Er – yeah," he scratched his head and turned to look at her. "Didn't I tell you Evelyn's roommate was saying something about shadows?"

Hermione's narrowed eyes took on a thoughtful look. "No," she shook her head slowly. "I don't think you did," she paused again. "Harry?"

"What?"

"Don't you remember Madam Lissette saying something about the anima caterra moving in shadows?" she jogged his memory.

For it is in the darkness and shadows that it moves, flowing like deadly smoke, soundless and odorless.

He gulped as he heard the old Diviner's voice in his head. "What are you thinking, Hermione?" he asked, worried. They have yet to figure out what an anima caterra or even an Umbra Antitheus was.

She shook her head. "I'm thinking I'm going to regret saying this," she smiled a bit ruefully considering the situation. "But we'd better head back to the common room, Harry," she sucked in a breath. "I may be wrong and Madam Lissette just might be right."

He knew it was wrong, knew it deep down inside, but he couldn't stop himself. Hermione Granger, brilliant scholar and staunch disbeliever in Divination, was admitting that a fortuneteller was right in her predictions. The same Hermione Granger, who could devour entire libraries as if it were nothing and recall every page that she read, was admitting that she was wrong.

The thought (of having his intelligent girlfriend admit she was wrong) struck him as amusing. Then he made a horrible mistake. He sniggered, a very obvious snigger at that, which he didn't bother to hide. It bubbled up inside him, and before he could contain it, it spilled forth from his lips and effectively sealed his doom. From the moment her eyes swung towards him, he froze, caught red-handed as it were, as her eyes went from warm brown to an icy glitter in the span of a few seconds.

"And what was that for?" she asked, her voice taking on an edge as she narrowed her eyes, putting her hands on her hips, as she glared at her petrified boyfriend.

"Er– well, I, I…" Harry mentally kicked himself.

"You what?" she asked, her tone hard and laced with hurt, as she continued to stare at him with her piercing gaze.

"It's just that you – you, well, ah…" he sighed heavily, deciding to tell the truth and face whatever consequences she'd send his way. "It's just that you never admit when you're wrong," he said meekly.

"Harry James Potter!" she raged, her face flushed a brighter red, although this time not from the cold. He winced, wanting the ground to split wide open, swallow him whole, end the lecture he knew was forthcoming, and wishing he could take back every word he'd just uttered. "You, you – " she stammered before regaining her composure. Inhaling a deep breath and letting it out slowly, she grit her teeth. "I'm going back inside," she spoke in a controlled manner although her eyes were still snapping. He edged closer to her, ready to fall in step alongside her. "Alone," she huffed, stopping him dead in his tracks before she turned on her heel and stalked away, leaving him by himself in the frosty air.

He watched her walk away, her stride quick and her shoulders stiff. Silently cursing himself, he lightly thumped his head against a tree trunk for his stupidity. "Way to go, Potter!" he muttered angrily to himself as he straightened and kicked at a pile of fallen leaves, sending them flying every which way. "Dolt, you just had to laugh at her," he sighed and ran both hands through his hair. "Stupid, stupid prat," he groaned, knowing he was going to have a hell of a time trying to make this one up to her.

***

"You're back early," Ron noted as Harry stumbled back in the warmth of the common room, his face still red from the dropping temperature outside. Ron and Lavender had inched closer to the fire themselves, going from lounging on the couch to lying side by side on the floor. "Where's Hermione?" he asked, searching behind Harry for their mutual friend.

"Dunno," Harry said glumly, as he shrugged his cloak off his shoulders and draped it over the back of a chair. "Hasn't she come in herself?" he asked, his eyes flicking up towards the clock in the corner of the common room to check the time.

"No, not that we've seen," Lavender shook her head, her eyes narrowing on Harry's blank expression. "Why didn't she come back with you?" she asked, pulling herself into a sitting position and eyeing him carefully.

Next to her, Ron stifled a snort. "What?" he asked innocently although there was a gleam in his eye. "Did you two have a fight?" a smirk was tugging at his lips.

Harry said nothing as he moved towards the abandoned couch, opting instead to glare at his sniggering best friend.

"You didn't!" Lavender's eyes grew wide at the thought and her jaw sagged slightly.

Ron wasn't far behind in his teasing. "Ha! You did!" he rolled over onto his side to get a better look at Harry's face. "Please, please tell me that it wasn't your fault," he inquired, doing his best to stop laughing and failing miserably as his grin threatened to split his face in half. "And that you won."

The Boy Who Lived did nothing but glare, offering no words in his defense. That was all Ron needed to come to a conclusion; Harry's face said a thousand words.

"Harry, Harry," Ron shook his head mournfully. "You're a disgrace to all men," his blue eyes were sparkling in laughter. "You never, ever, let the girl win!" But Ron's smug look was short lived as Lavender's right hand connected solidly with the back of his head, nearly sending him face first onto the floor.

"Ron!" she was horrified and slightly miffed at his words.

"So," Ron gingerly rubbed at the stinging spot, "whatcha do anyway?"

Letting out a heavy sigh, Harry flopped down ungracefully, his head tilted forward until his chin was resting on his chest. "Nothing," he muttered, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes. "I don't want to talk about it," he shook his head, feeling quite stupid over the whole argument.

"Come on," Ron's grin was becoming more dangerous by the minute. "You must have done something, mate."

Pretending not to hear him, Harry sat, twirling his glasses around and around by one of the earpieces, desperately trying to avoid the issue at hand. He could feel Ron's eyes burning onto the top of his skull, along with Lavender's, making him shift uncomfortably. Finally, sick of the silence that engulfed them, he spoke. "It was stupid really. I um, well," he stuttered, dragging one hand through his already unruly hair. "She ah, she admitted she was wrong," he said softly, wincing internally at how foolish he sounded. "And I erm– laughed," he finished lamely.

"She WHAT??" Ron cackled, tipping his head back and letting out a loud hoot of laughter. "And you did – H – Hermione?" tears were beginning to show in the corners of his eyes.

"It's not funny," Harry grunted, crossing his arms over his chest and staring into the dancing flames of the fireplace. "Sod off, Ron," he scowled.

"Harry," Lavender spoke, a look of disapproval on her face as she tried to ignore her hysterical boyfriend, "what possessed you to do such a thing?" She rolled her eyes and cast a stern look at Ron. "Stop it," she ordered, giving Ron a none too gentle shove when his laughter failed to end at her command.

Ron didn't stop laughing, although he tried, her vicious slap moments before forgotten. "Oh that's priceless!" he wheezed, wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands as the tears started to trickle down his face, before he set off into another round of laughter. "You, you, and Hermione…"

"Ugh," Lavender flung her hands up into the air. "Forget him," she rose from her spot on the floor and sat down next to Harry on the couch. "Anyway," she laid a hand on Harry's arm. "Why?" she asked again.

He shrugged. "I don't know, Lavender. It's not like I meant to be mean about it. It just slipped out really," he paused. "It's just that Hermione never admits when she's wrong about something. It just struck me as funny," he groaned and covered his face with his hands. "And since it had to deal with Divination, and we both know of Hermione's love of that particular subject, I just couldn't help myself."

His words only fueled Ron's laughter.

"Ronald Weasley!" Lavender said sharply, her eyes narrowing into mere slits. "You best watch yourself," she warned, not at all amused.

Finally, Ron managed to gain control over himself. This was done by Lavender's vocalized disapproval of his current state of hysterics as well as Harry's glowering. Eventually, after Ron's loud barks of laughter had been brought down to a level of soft sniggers, they got around to the root of Harry's current predicament.

"Hermione thinks that what happened to Evelyn Applebaum wasn't an accident," Harry said in a flat tone, his eyes entranced by the shadows flowing across the walls.

Lavender sucked in a harsh breath. She'd been more than content to imagine that the young Hufflepuff had physical ailments, which brought on her comatose state. "What do you mean?" she questioned; her heart hammering in her chest as near panic flooded her. "Do you think it was – er, you know," she stuttered, unable to make herself say Voldemort or even You-Know-Who. Unlike Harry, Ron, and Hermione, she had never been in a position where Voldemort was the topic of discussion.

"No, I don't think so," Harry shook his head slowly, his forehead wrinkling in concentration. "My scar never hurt," he unconsciously reached up to run a finger over the twisted mark.

"Then what?" Ron had pulled himself into a sitting position, his long legs crossed rather comically underneath him.

"Do you remember when Neville came in this morning to tell us what happened? And do you remember what he said about shadows?" Harry asked. Ron nodded mutely while Lavender swung her eyes from Harry to her boyfriend, a confused look floating through their blue depths.

"Shadows?" she inquired, a slight frown on her face.

"I could have sworn we told the both of you," Harry sighed and rubbed at his neck. "They had to call Madam Pomfrey down because Evelyn's roommate had to be sedated," he began.

"Right," Lavender nodded, drawing herself up until she was sitting upright. "I knew that much."

"But the reason why she was sedated," Ron took over explaining, "was that she was talking about shadows." He shrugged and spread his hands. "No one could figure out what she was babbling about and she wouldn't stop. From what Neville heard, she was near hysterics."

"And?" Lavender urged them to continue.

"And I've just remembered something that Madam Lissette said to us while we were in Knockturn Alley," Hermione answered for them as she came down the steps, several books in hand. " 'It moves in the shadows, flowing like deadly smoke,' " she said, grimly, avoiding Harry's look.

Ron shot her a concerned look. "So," he looked at her expectantly as Hermione moved towards them, "what's your plan then? I'm sure you've got one by that look in your eyes." He eyed her carefully. "And when did you come back inside?" his lips twitched as he fought back a smirk.

Hermione's answer was to hand him a rather thick book, which Ron took rather grudgingly and not without a loud sigh. "We search for answers," she said simply, handing a book each to Harry (who was sitting silently with a contrite look on his face) and Lavender. Her fingers brushed against Harry's for a moment as she locked eyes with him.

Harry had just opened his mouth to speak to her when McGonagall's magically amplified voice filled the common room. "All Prefects report to the Great Hall."

"Oh bloody hell," Ron groaned, flopping backwards and heaving a sigh. "Just what we need, a surprise Prefects meeting."

***

"So, what exactly are we looking for?" Lavender asked, as she and Harry flipped through the books that Hermione had left before the two Prefects departed for their impromptu meeting.

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger before squinting down at the text. "Umbra Antitheus or anima caterra," he sighed as he scanned the words. "Or anything about Dementors."

"Right," Lavender said with a sheepish smile. She fell silent for a moment as she trailed a finger down a column of words. "Harry?"

"What?"

"What was it like?" she looked up from the page and looked at him, her eyes wide with curiosity.

He frowned. "What was what like?" he gave her a questioning look over the rim of his glasses.

She paused before answering. "Last year, in Slytherin," she stuttered the question. "What was is it like?" she twisted a lock of hair around her finger nervously, as if she was afraid he'd become angry with her question.

Harry froze for a moment, not quite sure how to answer. He wasn't sure if there were words that could even come close to the revulsion that he'd felt.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, her cheeks growing hot in embarrassment at the look of disgust that floated across his face. "I shouldn't have asked, it's none of my business."

"No," he shook his head and gave her a small smile. "It's alright," he was quick to reassure her. "It was like…" he tilted his head back so that it rested on the back of the crimson couch. "It was the closest to being in hell as I ever want to be," he said simply, not able to adequately express his disdain.

"I'm sorry," Lavender mumbled again, bending her head down to stare at her book once more.

"What for?" Harry looked over at her. "It's not your fault I spent a good part of the school term in the dungeons," he grimaced. "It's no one's fault but mine."

Lavender nodded. "We're glad you're back you know," she said softly. "You belong here, Harry, in Gryffindor."

"Thanks," he smiled at her words and bent his head once more.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Does it bother you that Ron's a Prefect?"

"No," this was said without a moment's hesitation. "It doesn't," he gave her a wide grin and a hearty chuckle. "I'm glad Ron got it," he said, honestly. "He deserves to have something all his own."

***

"Hey, Justin," Ron approached the Hufflepuff prefect after their meeting had been adjourned. Most of the prefects had already left, the first ones being Malfoy and Pansy.

The brown-haired boy turned. "Hey, Ron," he greeted with a forced smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"You alright?" Ron noted the other boy's pale face and stooped posture.

Justin shrugged listlessly. "Alright as one can be after, well, what happened," he didn't finish, knowing that Ron would understand.

"Right," Ron shook his head, mentally grimacing at his rather thoughtless remark. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione approaching them from the other side of the room. "Sorry," he muttered quietly.

"S'alright," Justin shifted slightly on his feet. "Was there something you wanted to talk about?"

"Er – yeah," Ron brought his attention back to the task at hand, trying to find the right words in which to start his questioning.

"Let me guess," Justin sighed heavily and held up a hand. "It has something to do with Evelyn, doesn't it?" he asked, his voice sounding tired rather than angry or annoyed.

It was Ron's turn to shuffle uncomfortably and he scuffed the toe of his shoe on the floor. "Yeah, if you don't mind, that is," he looked up to gauge the reaction of the other boy.

"No, it's okay," Justin tucked his hands into the pockets of his trousers as he rocked back on his heels. By this time, Hermione had reached the two of them, relieved Ron hadn't said anything inappropriate. "What did you want to know?"

"Erm," Ron scratched the back of his neck. "We've heard that Evelyn's roommate was saying something about shadows?" he left the question open-ended, hoping Justin would fill in the missing pieces.

"Yeah. It caused quite a ruckus really," the Hufflepuff leaned back against the wall, focusing on a small section of the opposite wall so he wouldn't have to look at them. "There's-- there's nothing like hearing an ear piercing scream in the middle of the night," he shuddered involuntarily in remembrance. "God, just the sound of it…It was enough to make your blood run cold," he licked his dry lips before continuing. "No one knew much of anything, still don't really. All I can remember is that the lot of us jumped out of bed and piled in the common room since we couldn't get to the girls' side with the wards and all," he rubbed his face with his hands. "Then Flitwick showed up after Sprout sent one of us after him, and then Professor Dumbledore, then Madam Pomfrey."

Neither Ron nor Hermione spoke while Justin told them what he knew.

"After the Headmaster showed up, that's when we knew something bad happened," Justin went on. "I mean really, if she was just sick or had a nightmare, then why would he need to be there?" he paused. "And then… then Allison –her roommate--" he informed them, "then she started babbling incoherently, going on and on about moving shadows."

Hermione's face had gone noticeably paler. She'd slapped a hand over her mouth, although her horrified expression was still apparent on her face.

"I saw her you know, Evelyn that is," the Hufflepuff went on. "When Flitwick levitated her out of the girls' dorms, I saw her. She was so white, and her face– God, her face was twisted, frozen in an image of complete terror." He sucked in a breath before plunging ahead. "She looked dead. Like she'd been scared to death by something. But that wasn't the worst of it, you know? The worst part was the smell…" Justin swallowed hard, as if he were fighting back the urge to be sick.

"The smell?" Ron shared a look with Hermione.

"Yeah, the smell. It smelled foul, like rotten flesh," Justin gagged slightly at the memory, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "It smelled like death."

"Oh, God," Hermione wheezed out while Ron turned an interesting shade of light green.

***

"And what exactly are you two doing?" Ginny asked as she came sailing down the staircase.

"Hey, Gin," Harry greeted; looking up from his book for a brief moment to give her a quick smile. "Erm, studying," he lifted the book high enough for her to catch a glimpse of the cover.

She flopped down next to him, her nose wrinkling slightly at the title of the book. "Ugh," she huffed and shook her head. "I can think of a hundred other things that I'd rather be doing than studying."

"Tell me about it," Lavender groaned, massaging her temples with her fingertips. She and Harry had nearly gone through all of the books that Hermione had left.

Ginny shot her a sympathetic look. "Do I even want to know what you're studying for?" she eyed their books carefully.

At her question, Harry and Lavender shared a quick look. "Defense," Harry answered for the both of them, noting Lavender's relief at his quick lie.

"Oh," Ginny crossed her arms and tilted her head back to rest on the back of the couch. "Sounds like fun," she grunted.

"Oh yes," Lavender yawned and rubbed at her eyes. "It's great fun," she continued with Harry's lie. "Want to help?" she arched an eyebrow, knowing full well that Ginny would refuse.

"No thank you," she shook her head. "I've only just finished my homework and have no desire to do any more."

"Suit yourself," Lavender shrugged and dropped her eyes back down to the open book.

All three remained silent for some time. The only sounds in the room were the popping and hissing of the fire and the turning of pages. "Awful what happened last night, isn't it?" Ginny spoke up as she nibbled on her fingernail, her eyes staring blankly into the fire.

Both Harry and Lavender paused in their reading. "Yeah," Harry murmured softly as Lavender merely nodded, her face and eyes sober.

"I talked to Victoria," Ginny went on, referring to a Hufflepuff in her year. "God," she groaned and closed her eyes. "I can't imagine," she shook her head slowly. "They're devastated you know, the whole lot of them. Completely crushed," she drew in a shaky breath.

"Do they…" Lavender began, clearing her throat before continuing. "Do they have any idea as to what happened?" she inquired.

Ginny shook her head 'no'. "Not a blasted clue," she paused. "I'm sure you've heard all the rumors. Things like she lost her mind, stuff like that," she stopped to draw in a breath, and leaned forward slightly so that her elbows were resting on her knees. "But the latest one is that You-Know-Who caused it," her voice dropped lower as she spoke. "That he used her for some horrible human sacrifice."

"What?" Lavender gasped, clearly horrified at the idea. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open and she pressed a hand to her heart.

"Who told you that load of rubbish?" Hermione's voice rang out clearly as she and Ron stepped through the portrait door. "The Slytherins no doubt," she snorted in disgust as they edged closer to the small group.

Ginny just gave a half-hearted shrug and a weak grin. "It's just the rumor floating about," she looked up at her brother. "Where were you?" she inquired.

"Meeting," Ron answered simply before flopping down next to Lavender. He eyed his sister carefully. "And where have you been the last couple of days?" he narrowed his eyes. "I've only seen you at meal times."

Under his steady gaze, Ginny flushed and dropped her own eyes to stare at her hands. "Nowhere," she said loftily. "I've just been busy, what with school work and all," she shrugged.

"Right," Ron said slowly. "Is that all you've been up to?"

"What's with you?" Ginny shot back, her own eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "Since when did you get to be so nosey?"

"What?" Ron blinked innocently and stared pointedly at his fuming sibling. "Can't I wonder what my only sister has been up to?"

"Honestly, Ron," she glowered. "You're worse than Fred and George," she flipped her long, red hair over her shoulder.

"Hardly," he snorted, then gave her a grin Ginny couldn't help but return.

Before Ron could go on, Ginny let out a jaw-cracking yawn that she tried to cover with her hand. "Well I'm knackered," she slid off the couch. "I think I'll go take a nap," she yawned again. "Don't have too much fun studying."

"Bye, Ginny," Ron nodded; his words echoed by the other three in turn. With a final yawn and stretch, Ginny swept towards the stairs.

"Studying?" Hermione asked, directing the question towards Harry, her lips curved up in a small smile and one eyebrow raised. This was the first time she'd spoken to him since their argument.

Harry shrugged sheepishly and cast a glance at Lavender. "Well, I had to tell her something," he traced a finger over the recessed lettering on the cover of the book still on his lap. "I wasn't sure if you wanted her to know what we're up to just yet."

"So," Lavender piped up from her spot beside Ron's knee, "how was the meeting?"

"The usual," Ron scratched his cheek. "More lecturing on how we need to maintain order, setting a good example, and fairly enforcing school rules," he paused. "Malfoy was as arrogant as ever," he griped, balling a hand into a fist and thumping it lightly on his knee.

"Ugh," Lavender sighed and rolled her eyes. "Some things never change. What did he do this time?"

"What didn't he do?" Ron huffed and ran a hand through his hair. "I suppose the worst of it was when he was making fun of the Hufflepuffs."

"He didn't!" Lavender looked up with a horrified expression.

"He did," Hermione interjected with a nod.

"What a git!" Lavender exclaimed, color rising to rest high on her cheeks as her blue eyes snapped with emotion.

Ron grunted in response. "On to another thing, we," he gestured to himself and Hermione, "managed to talk to Justin."

"And?" Harry sat up a bit straighter. "Did he tell you anything new?" he asked.

"No," Hermione said softly and shook her head. "Not all new, at any rate," she bit her lip. "He did say that he saw Evelyn when Professor Flitwick levitated her out of the dorms. "And he said there was this smell," she let her eyes slip closed as a slight tremor ran through her.

"Smell?" Harry frowned as he looked at Ron for clarification.

"Yeah," Ron sucked in a deep breath and rubbed his face. "He said there was a smell of rotten flesh."

***

"Ah, Poppy," Dumbledore greeted the rather surly woman with a slight smile.

"Professor," she returned easily as she breezed by him with a tray in her hands.

"How are they?" he asked softly, causing her to stop almost mid-step. She carefully set the tray down on an empty bed and then turned to face him, her face tired and resigned.

"Not good," she shook her head. "Not good at all," she gestured him over to the sleeping form of Allison Hooper. "She was whimpering and thrashing in her sleep. She's only recently calmed down." She tucked the bed sheets in more securely around the young girl.

Dumbledore nodded. "And Miss Applebaum?" he questioned.

Madam Pomfrey straightened then, her sharp eyes flicking towards a bed that has its hangings drawn tightly together. "She's not dead," she told him softly. "But she's not technically alive either."

At her words, Dumbledore cleared his throat and cast a thoughtful look down at the unmoving girl. "What is your prognosis then, Poppy?"

The elderly woman let out a heavy sigh before fixing the Headmaster with a steady gaze. "She has no soul, Headmaster. She's nothing but an empty shell," she turned back to stare at the still form.

"I see," Dumbledore frowned, slightly nodding his head.

"I've only seen people look like this on two other occasions," Pomfrey went on. "In Azkaban and St. Mungo's, in the ward for incurable patients."

***

Eyes watched from the shadows as Dumbledore emerged from the hospital wing. A scowl formed over the smooth features of the unseen observer. They slunk farther back in the darkness, pressing against the stone wall. Like a criminal returning to the crime scene, an overwhelming need was building inside for it to catch a glimpse of its first victim.

Drat Dumbledore, the figure silently mused, as it stared out a window at the darkening world below after the Headmaster walked past. Of course he'd expect something, meddling old fool that he is. A wicked gleam lit hollow eyes and a twisted smile crossed its lips. But perhaps something can be done about that; a hand stole up the front of its robes and gave the glass orb a light squeeze. But all in due time…all in due time.

***

"Oy! Come along, Harry," Fred poked his head around the door of Ron and Harry's shared room, with George not far behind. "Colin's sent us to fetch you, says you've got Quidditch practice in ten minutes." He paused and cast his youngest brother a look, eyes gleaming. "You too, Ron. We've heard there's a spot open for reserve Keeper, we figure you should give it a go."

"You've only got a month to train until the first match," George added, his ever-present smirk matching his twin brother's. "And bring your warmest robes. It's bloody cold outside on the pitch."

"What are you two doing here?" Ron eyed his brothers warily. "You've left school," he pointed out.

"That we did, dear brother," George nodded, his eyes gleaming. "Can't we just come to check up on you?"

"No," Ron grunted, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Fine," Fred jumped in. "So it wouldn't bother you too much if we told you that we actually came to see Harry and not you?" he wiggled his eyebrows.

"What for?" Ron cast Harry a confused look.

"That," Fred sighed dramatically, "is a secret. Now hurry up. George and I have decided to watch you practice."

Ron grinned happily as he and Harry shared a look. It was only seconds after Fred and George left before they were both scrambling to ready themselves, each throwing on their warmest jumpers. Harry grabbed his Firebolt from under his bed.

***

The twins hadn't been joking when they said it was cold outside. Harry and Ron could instantly feel the chill in the air as it tried to pierce its way through the layers of fabric that covered them. By the time they reached the Quidditch field, their faces were tinted red and their ears numb from the cold. The rest of the Gryffindor team were already assembled in their red and gold practice robes. Some were stomping their feet to keep their blood circulating, while others were blowing into their hands to keep their fingers warm. Around them, several other students mingled, waiting for their chance to try out for the team, even for only the reserve positions.

"Finally!" Carissa Wren (new Gryffindor captain after Angelina Johnson) uttered in relief when she caught sight of Harry and Ron. "Alright you lot," she waved the team over. "I know it's ruddy cold out here." This was met with vigorous nodding. "But we only have a month to get ready for our first match and we've got loads to do. I figured we'd start off with tryouts for the reserve spots. I want you all over here," she gestured to the eager candidates. "And then we'll start."

Harry heard Ron gulp audibly, his face slightly pale as he moved towards Carissa. "Hey," Harry stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Good luck." Ron responded with a quick, nervous nod before hurrying over to join the group.

***

From what Harry could tell, Ron was doing okay. Not exceptionally well, but then again, not exceptionally bad either. Even from his spot on the ground below, he could tell Ron was nervous. The fact that it was freezing outside didn't help. But to his and the twins' delight, Ron blocked 15 out of 20 goals, which was the best score among all those who tried out for Keeper. Ron must have sensed it too, having landed with a wide smile and giving a discreet thumbs up to Harry.

"Alright," Carissa shivered as she raised her voice to carry over the chatter. "Decisions will be posted within the next couple of days. Until then, thank you to all who tried out in such horribly cold weather."

The freezing hopefuls fairly dashed off the field, desperate to get inside and warm themselves by the fireplace. Ron was one of the last to leave, torn between wanting to watch the team practice or going inside to thaw his feet. Finally, the need to warm himself won out. He turned to head inside after a wave to Harry and a hearty slap on the shoulder from the twins. By this time, the rest of the Gryffindor team were impatient and wanting practice to be over.

"Come on, Carissa," Colin Creevey, now a Beater, whined as he covered his nose with his gloved hand to warm it. "Let's get on with it," he shivered. "At the rate this is going, we'll all be frozen to death and we won't have to worry about winning any matches."

***

Usually Harry loved flying. Loved the feeling of the wind whipping through his hair and the sense of freedom that he felt when he was soaring above the ground. Today was an exception. The bitter wind tore through his robes, bit at his ears and nose, and stung his eyes until they watered. They'd agreed to only practice for an hour at the most, as the sun was setting and the weather was getting worse by the minute.

Hovering on his broom, Harry cupped his hands and blew on them to gain warmth in his fingers. His nose beginning to run, he was having a devil of a time trying to see the Snitch in the growing gloom. Usually he would circle the field until he caught sight of it, but today he opted for sitting still to avoid becoming colder than he already was. Teeth chattering, he scanned the field for a flash of gold. Finally, and with a breath of thanks, he spied it lurking near the goal post and tore after it.

If the wind made his eyes sting when he was sitting still, this was ten times worse. His vision blurred and he narrowed his eyes into mere slits as he raced across the field. It wasn't until it was too late that he realized that Victoria Humbolt, a chaser, was right in front of him. He tried to stop, or swerve, to avoid colliding with her. But his numb fingers didn't seem to understand his request, making him plow headlong into her, knocking them both off their brooms. He saw the ground coming up to meet him in a rush, and then he saw black.

***

"I see you're awake, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey was leaning over him with a stern look on her face. Behind her were the concerned faces of his Gryffindor teammates, including what appeared to be an uninjured Victoria.

Harry squinted, the slight action sending a bolt of pain ripping through his head. "Um, yeah," he winced as he tried to sit up.

"Oh no, you don't," Pomfrey put a gentle hand on his shoulder and forced him to lie back down. "You, Mr. Potter, have just landed yourself an overnight stay in the hospital wing," she informed him.

Harry groaned.

"I don't know what you were thinking," the elderly woman muttered, eyeing the silent Quidditch team reproachfully. "It's near freezing outside," she clucked. "And all for a silly game."

George opened his mouth to defend their favorite sport, but his twin plowed an elbow into his stomach to shut him up.

"Will he be alright, Madam Pomfrey?" Carissa spoke up, her eyes large and her face grim as she looked at Harry.

"Yes, yes," Pomfrey waved a hand as if to shoo them all away. "He'll be fine," she uncorked a bottle and poured it into a glass. "Here you go, Potter, drink up now," she nearly forced the glass into his hand.

He gulped, steeling himself for the burning sensation of the Pepper Up Potion she was making him drink. Screwing up his face, he closed his eyes and downed the contents in one gulp, nearly gagging as he did. No sooner was he done than his eyes began to water and steam leaked from his ears. Blindly handing the glass back to her, he swiped at his face.

Satisfied, Pomfrey turned to look at his visitors. "Five minutes," she barked. "You've got five minutes until the lot of you need to clear out," and she swept by them, going into her office.

Fred waited until she was out of sight. "You gave us quite a scare there, Harry," he winked. "But you did a bloody spectacular job of cushioning her fall," he jerked a thumb over his shoulder, motioning to an embarrassed Victoria. Behind him, George sniggered.

"Where is he?" Hermione's frantic voice could be heard from behind the wall of Gryffindor Quidditch players. Red and gold parted to reveal Hermione's pale face and wide eyes. From his spot on the bed, Harry grinned weakly. "Harry Potter!" she admonished, a look of relief filling her eyes. "Don't you ever, ever do something like that again."

"Uh oh," George backed away. "I think that's our cue to leave," he motioned towards the door. "We'll see you later, Harry."

"Bye," Harry nodded, and watched as his teammates and the Weasley twins slipped out of the room, before directing his attention to the girl before him. "Hey," he said, tentatively.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice softer as she sat next to him, grasping his hand.

He smiled in response and gave her hand a light squeeze. "I'm fine," he assured her. "Just took a spill off my broom is all," he shrugged. "No big deal really."

She bit her lip to keep her comment to herself. "Just as long as you're okay," she sniffed and looked away.

"Hey," he tugged at her hand to get her to look at him again. "I'm sorry about this afternoon," he said, softly, tracing over the back of her knuckles. "I didn't mean to upset you and I shouldn't have laughed."

Hermione sighed and flashed him a wobbly grin. "It's alright," she brushed a hand over his forehead, sweeping his hair back. "I know you didn't mean to upset me," she let her hand linger on his cheek. "And besides, you're right, I don't admit when I'm wrong."

He leaned into her touch, amazed that he'd missed it so much within such a short amount of time. "I'm sorry," he whispered again, locking eyes with her and holding her gaze.

"I know," she rubbed her thumb over his cheek. "So am I."

"Ahem," Madam Pomfrey seemed to materialize out of thin air, breaking their moment. "I'm sorry, Ms. Granger, but visiting hours are over."

Hermione let her hand fall away from his face. "Yes, Madam Pomfrey," she nodded in understanding, untangling her other hand from Harry's. "I'll see you later. Good night," she smiled at him and leaned over to kiss his cheek.

"Night, Hermione," he smiled up at her with a wink.

***

Winston Blair, fourth year Slytherin, settled down on his large four-poster deep within the dungeons. He'd had a good day. He'd finished all his homework, played several games of Exploding Snap with a friend, and bullied some second year Hufflepuffs, tormenting them about the night before. All in all, a very good day. Pulling the covers up to his neck, he sighed contentedly and let his eyes slip shut, feeling sleep creep over him like a warm blanket. Soon, he was snoring softly.

It was quiet, almost too quiet in the dank dungeons that housed Slytherin. The only sounds to break the silence were the slow, shallow breathing of sleeping students, occasionally marred by a grunt or the rustling of fabric as someone rolled over on their bed. Somewhere in the darkened common room, the clock chimed three. Then the nightmare began in the form of oozing mist and the smell of rotten flesh.

***

Harry could feel a presence over him, causing his hair to stand up on the back of his neck, and his eyes to shoot open. Moonlight was cascading through the tall windows in the hospital wing, spilling its silver light over the stone floor. Cautiously rolling over onto his back, he fumbled for his wand. Sucking in a breath of surprise, he came face to face with Allison Hooper.

The petite girl was standing over his bed. Her hair hung limply around her face, and her skin was waxy white. Her unblinking eyes seemed to look right through Harry as she cocked her head to the side and stared unseeingly at him. A few moments passed before Harry remembered to breathe, which he did in a rush, pushing himself up into a sitting position.

"Excuse me," he whispered, trying to gain her attention. "Are you okay?"

She didn't answer, or bat an eyelash at his words, but continued to stare at him as if he wasn't there at all.

"Hello?" he tried again, restraining himself from waving a hand in front of her face.

Still no response, her face expressionless and eyes vacant.

Harry sighed and reach over to pull the covers back, determined to go find Madam Pomfrey so she could assist the girl back to bed. Just as he was about to roll out of bed, an icy cold hand latched onto his arm, jerking him back to face Allison.

"It's too dark," she whispered hoarsely, her eyes still maintaining their empty look. "Too many shadows," her grip tightened on his arm. "Too many dark places where things can hide. They're alive." She slowly began to rock from side to side on her bare feet.

"What?" Harry felt chills rolling down his spine as he listened to her raspy voice.

"The shadows are alive," her eyes suddenly seemed to come into focus, filling with terror and panic as they burned into his. "They move, they creep and crawl and they steal, they smell like death," she drew in ragged breaths, her chest heaving with the effort. Her voice rose to shrill levels as she babbled on. "It's too dark to sleep. Too dark-- must stay in the light. Must stay awake, don't let the light go out. Never let it go out or else the shadow will come and get me, collect me like Evelyn. Trap me just like Evelyn," here her eyes became unfocused once again, as if a shield had gone around her. She turned Harry loose, her hand slipping away as if it were boneless.

Harry's heart thumped loudly in his ears as her words rang in his head, echoing over and over. Without stopping to think why, he clambered out of bed, grasped his wand and pointed it at the candle sitting by her empty bed. Muttering softly, a small jet of light seeped from the tip of his wand and ignited the doused wick, the tiny flame sputtering to life and casting a soft glow around the room.

Glancing back over his shoulder, he watched her turn, walk stiffly past him to her bed, then pull the curtain tightly shut around it. Swallowing hard, Harry reached over and rubbed the spot where she'd clung to him, dread sending icy fingers down his back and driving all thoughts of sleep away. Licking his dry lips, he glanced at the clock. It was three o'clock.

***

The large grandfather clock chimed three, its bells ringing through the empty Gryffindor room. Upstairs, unbeknownst to the sleeping roommates, a steady glow of blue light began radiating from Harry Potter's closed trunk. It leaked out through the keyhole and the seam where the lid closed, before winking out, leaving the room as dark as it was before. Hidden under the many layers of clothing and bundles of extra parchment, the Necklace of Tears was slowly fading from brilliant blue back to its clear state.

~*~

Author's Note: Well, there it is, chapter seven. I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. And as far as who "The Master" is, you have some very, very good ideas…now you'll just have to wait and see if you're right.

***I am temporarily removing "Goodbye" from FF.net for revision issues. I will be re-posting it at a later date here, as well as at Portkey.org.***

Stoneheart: I see you've made it over to Portkey, good for you! As far as your request for post-Hogwarts H/Hr, I'll see what I can do. Although I may need to take a page from your book and write the whole story first before posting it. This way you guys don't have to wait for months in between updates.