After weeks of damp and drizzle, Friday began with a cloudless sky; though a jacket was still needed when venturing out and a hat if you planned on staying there for several hours. The mood in school had lifted over the last few days, following weeks of gloom. Another assembly had been called a fortnight earlier, not long after Laura Cooper's attack. Iain Calder had died from his injuries. Most were rocked to their core; he was in the care of adults and that still hadn't been enough to save him. The assembly was brief and left students confused by the unsentimental reality of death. The staff at Hogwarts turned their grief to resolution. This would never happen again and every one of them was determined to root out the vampire, wherever he was lurking.

The shock of Iain's death was followed by a period of mourning, but there was no need to wallow in self pity. Everyone knew that people died from time to time, whether you liked it or not. So a school assembly was held in the broomstick practice yard, thanks to the fine weather. Headmaster Dippet faced the students, arranged to his left, right and front, in three ranks. The ban on being outside and unsupervised trips to Hogsmeade, was to be lifted with immediate effect. A spontaneous cheer accompanied the news, which Dippet met with a thin-lipped smile and a quieting motion of his hands. Mr Peniakoff would be staying on for a month or so, sanctioned by the Ministry of Magic; he would conduct searches of the forests surrounding Hogwarts and take several sixth-form classes too. The school governing board were satisfied that the vampire had moved on and life should return to normal as soon as possible. Here Dippet changed his tone.

'Iain's classmates have requested a memorial and after careful consideration, representatives have settled on a bench, with a tree planted alongside. It will be located beside the Dark Forest, where he enjoyed spending his free time. In summer, the tree will offer shade and during the wetter, autumn months, shelter too. Our thanks go to all those involved, for their courage and sensitivity during this difficult time.'

Dippet left through the Sangreal Arch, below the main teaching block. There were still fifteen minutes of break left, so pupils split into groups and stayed on the lawns, enjoying the sun.

During Dippet's address, Jessie Weston from Slytherin informed Tom that there was an owl waiting for him, so he took the first opportunity available and hurried over to the owlery. People didn't send Tom owls and he had no family, nor anyone likely to contact him. Making sure that no one was watching, he entered the tower and ran up the stairs. The owl was scruffy and preening its feathers, but eventually it allowed Tom to remove the tiny scroll attached to one claw. Meet in H, at 3B. Sat. earliest, FS. Tom screwed the message up, then reconsidered and tore it to pieces, releasing them several at a time into the breeze. He hurried down the stairs and rejoined his classmates on the broomstick practice lawn.

'Where have you been young man?' Gary had his arms folded.

'Slughorn wants some volunteers for Saturday.'

'Well turn him down, we're off to Hogsmeade.'

'I can't, it's fixed now. Away to Odin's Free School, in Stavanger: so an early start for me.'

'What, are you carrying oranges for the team now?' Gary was unimpressed.

'Not far off.'

'That's one long trip.' Gary poked his bottom lip out.

'Portkey in Dippet's study.'

'Rather you than me.'

'Right, I've got double-muggles.' Tom headed for Room 6B.

'No stop, you're making me jealous.' Gary watched Tom walk away and wondered why everything his friend had just said, was a deliberate lie. He intended to find out.

Tom was first into breakfast when the doors opened on Saturday morning. They had half an hour longer in bed, so if you wanted to eat alone, this was the best time to visit. He toyed with a boiled egg, a piece of toast and some orange juice, but after ten minutes of trying to eat, Tom cleared his plates. Except for the prefect on duty, he saw no one else.

Eudora planned to spend her morning at the edge of the school lawns. A trip into the forest was the initial plan, but remembering Laura's shredded uniform, she changed her mind. Eudora wanted to get some fresh air, not spend hours whirling round at every snapping twig. She saw Gary Box at the bottom of the staircase, standing beside one of the stone columns. He was watching the Great Hall entrance and retreated behind the pillar when someone left breakfast. It was Tom, who set off across the viaduct. She crept up on Gary.

'What are you doing?'

'Shh,' Gary didn't take his eyes off Tom.

When he'd crossed to the other side, Gary turned his head. 'Just keeping an eye on our Tom. He said he were going to the quidditch away match, but Cliff Sinclair's on the team and he says Tom were never going. So, what's all that about?' Gary stared beyond the entrance doors, then looked at Eudora again.

'Something I can do you for, Pippincraft?'

Eudora realised she was blocking his exit and moved.

'I'm coming too.'

Gary turned. His eyes were smiling, but his expression was doubtful.

'You like him don't you? I mean like-like him.'

Eudora's face glowed.

''S'all right. Your secret's safe with me. Best crack on mind, he's a fast walker; as you're about to find out.'

Eudora wanted to explain herself and challenge what Gary had said, but it was already too late for that. Besides, Gary said it like he wasn't bothered at all. Then she realised that by not saying anything, she'd actually confirmed his suspicions. Oh, what a mess!

Tom crossed the Fountain Courtyard and left the teaching block through the greenhouses. He glanced behind him, skirted the wall to Merlin's Gate and then took the cart track to Hogsmeade. It offered little cover, so following someone undetected was tricky. Gary yanked Eudora into the Dark Forest.

Running between bracken and gnarled roots, just to match Tom's walking pace, they managed to keep him in sight. Several times, Gary encouraged Eudora to jump a stream, or edge down a steep slope and he surprised her with his thoughtfulness. Reluctantly, she might have to revise her early opinion of him.

It was a relief when Tom entered the village and they could pause at the end of Peatland Row. He walked along its length and turned the corner, so they ran to catch up.

Tom was standing in front of The Three Broomsticks, just before nine in the morning; he tried to appear at ease, but kept checking his surroundings. A bolt withdrew and the innkeeper appeared at the door.

Gary and Eudora watched the man wipe his hands on a cloth over one shoulder, then shake Tom's hand; she and Gary looked at one another in surprise. An elderly gentleman in a tunic passed them, with a wand poking from his side pocket.

'It's considered rude to spy on folk. Just so ye know.'

The shops were opening; groups and individuals gathered, some stopping to chat, others hurrying to keep appointments. Hogsmeade was preparing for another busy Saturday. Peering round the sides of buildings, was no longer an option, so they decided to mingle instead.

'He's obviously meeting someone. No harm in taking a look.' Gary set off up the high street.

Eudora was torn, what could they do? Now that she thought about it, what should they do? All a-flutter and confused, but excited too.

'Get a shift on, slowcoach.' Gary beckoned with a flick of his head, 'I've an idea.'

It was so simple, that you couldn't really call it an idea. They would enter The Three Broomsticks as customers; find Tom without being seen, then try to eavesdrop his conversation. Not a million miles, from what someone without an idea would do.

'Have you been to a place like this before?' Eudora asked, while they loitered near the entrance. Gary patted his hair and smoothed his clothes self-consciously.

'You kidding? All the time. Muggles call them public houses, or pubs; I were practically raised in one.'

'So that's a no then.' Eudora was getting the measure of Gary. His confidence went up, as his experience went down.

The Three Broomsticks was cosy, dusty and threadbare. It had low, cushioned stools beside the unlit fireplace and taller, leather stools surrounding the bar. Running around the room and served by a separate corridor, were a series of booths with green privacy curtains above. All were drawn back, except a single booth in the far corner. There were long tables with bench seats, for those eating and smaller, round tables for those drinking. The interior was stone, with shaker panelling and above was an exposed, hammer-beam roof. Paintings and sepia photographs filled the barest sections of wall. One showed a crowd at Loch Lochy, ducking as a wizard in goggles and flight gear hurtled overhead. The caption read: Douglas Blair captures the high-speed flight record from Fort William to Bergen, in 1917. Averaging 461 m.p.h. on a modified, Model-B Firebolt. Gary stopped reading; the landlord was waiting for them to order.

'I'm up for a butterbeer, you?' He turned to Eudora.

'I'll have the same.'

The landlord filled two half-sized, pewter tankards with butterbeer from the tap. Underage wizards were tolerated during the day on Saturdays, but never encouraged.

'Not seen you before,' he said. More statement, than an invitation to respond.

'Yes. Been meaning to visit for a while now, but...' Gary shrugged, suggesting that too many responsibilities prevented it.

Gary led them into the far corner to find a seat. They selected a table beside Tom's meeting place, which was hidden from the bar behind shelves of cloth-bound books. He nodded at the drawn curtains above, so they eased onto stools beside the wall. Gary put a finger to his lips; there was a conversation taking place in the booth. They sipped their butterbeers and waited for it to turn from small talk, to the meeting's purpose.

'So you got me owl?' Sheldrick took a sip of firewhisky and drew his lips back with a smacking sound.

'Here I am,' Tom replied.

'I've hammered out a deal for the vampire. Crying shame about the lad.'

'Iain.'

'Water under the bridge to us.'

'I said I was interested, but nothing was said about someone being killed.'

'People die every day, son. You're in this now. And what were you thinking? We'd set a trap and lucky us; he's only gone and flown into it. I dunno what they teach at your fancy school, but a vampire ain't a wild beast; they're proper thinkers. Cunning, smart and price always reflects the risk. Three hundred gold (galleons) dead, or seven hundred alive. You think on it Riddle; we're saving people in the long run. Should make you feel better about yourself. Half the fee each. I deal with the kind of people you don't wanna know and you take 'im down.' Sheldrick shrugged at Tom. 'We all come up smellin' of roses.'

Tom was staring at his untouched drink.

'No one gets hurt.'

'Don't worry about it, son. I get the vampire in play, you take 'im out. Simple as. Now listen up, you'll need one of these.'

He slid a ring across the table: one of a pair. Gold with a disk of inlaid jet, he touched an identical ring on his smallest finger and a burning skull appeared above the black surface. Then a writhing snake slid from the skull's mouth.

'This'll guide you towards its brother when I give the shout. High pitched and you're no good; humming and you'll find me soon enough.'

Tom put the ring on, which was plain enough to avoid suspicion. He wanted to protest, but Sheldrick was right: no one forced him into this. Half of seven hundred, would easily secure a home away from Wool's.

'Does it have any weaknesses? The vampire.'

'Hmm,' Sheldrick grunted. 'It's not common in type, this one. Goes by the name of Donnan McQuillan. Reckoned to be somewhere over two-hundred-and-eighty years old. Wily, unsophisticated, not interested in castles or estates, prefers to hunt the old way. Over a wild range. Enjoys a fight, hard as nails and no interest in magic; there's your edge. A bright lad like you, what knows a spell or two.' Sheldrick checked his pocket watch.

'I'm on an errand, so... I'll see you, when I see you.'

Tom stayed, wrestling with Iain's death; he'd not pulled the trigger, but was certainly involved in handling the weapon. He pushed his drink away and left The Three Broomsticks, gazing a few feet in front of him.

Gary and Eudora held their breath as Tom crossed the bar, but he didn't look up. They decided to finish their butterbeers and said nothing further. Gary was conflicted; he'd followed Tom to see if he was making money behind his back and he'd certainly been right on that score. Then he'd lied to Eudora about why he was there. Did these competing lies cancel each other out? In all honesty, he wasn't helping a friend; he was protecting his own interests. And doing a spot of lying on the side.

'Shall we go?' Gary drained his glass and Eudora nodded.

Before leaving, he turned to her.

'We never mention their conversation to anyone. Tom won't want helping, that's his way, but we'll try. You know, in the background.'

'I won't mention it,' she assured him.

Eudora was considering how different her life would be, if she'd come down to breakfast a few minutes later.

* * * * *

After a charms lesson on Thursday afternoon, Gary and Tom were hanging around the Tapestry Corridor and practising a new spell: speculo. It produced a shimmering reflective surface, wherever your wand dictated. Producing the effect was not so difficult; what was especially tricky to master, was the size and angle of the surface. Gary created something dinner-plate sized, directly above his head, which had no practical use. Tom, as usual, managed to cast the spell in an effortless and elegant way. With a deft flick of his wand, he created two transparent disks at eye level on either side; then he walked away from Gary.

'Eyes in the back of your head. Handy if someone's following you.'

Gary's smile froze. So Tom knew they'd followed him last Saturday? Was it just a throwaway comment, or one freighted with meaning?

Betty, Vivian and Eudora appeared at the end of the corridor, on their way back to Ravenclaw. Despite being in Slytherin, Betty spent most of her free time with the other two: usually in the Ravenclaw common room.

Gary saw Vivian first and automatically tried to impress her. Tom snapped the side mirrors shut and slipped his wand away. For some reason he saw practice as a low form of behaviour; preferring to give the impression, that his ability was entirely natural. Betty saw the pair of shining mirrors before he dismissed them. She admired Tom for taking the time to practise, also, he'd hidden his wand in modesty; boys usually showed off around her.

'I taught him that.' Gary nodded in Tom's direction.

Vivian adopted a southern states accent.

'Well ain't you just the cat's miaow at magic,' then returned to her own. 'I heard you're scraping an average in charms.' Vivian loved chopping Gary down to size.

'What's a cat's miaow when it's at home?' Gary pretended to be interested.

'What's it doing at home?' Vivian burst into laughter. 'You don't know a whole lot about the States, do you?'

'I know a little jazz.' Gary took her hand. An insanely bold move.

He began to hum a big band tune and prompted Vivian to twirl; usually, she was the person in their year, least likely to tolerate familiar behaviour. However, Gary's boldness had somehow penetrated Vivian's tough outer shell. She rejoined her girlfriends, mock-fanning and fluttering her eyelids.

'You're some ducky shincracker, Gary Box. Oh and that's not jazz. That's swing.'

Tom saw no trace of embarrassment from Gary. Vivian had appreciated the attention, but they were always arguing?

Gary apologised.

'I stand corrected. So what are you up to this weekend? Me and my friend here have a trip to Hogsmeade planned; now they've gone and lifted the ban. Perhaps we might see you there?' Gary waited for a response, but none came.

Despite his confident exterior, Gary was cringing inside; he'd just mentioned Hogsmeade again and surely Tom had to be suspicious now? Eudora's eyes widened. Either Gary was incredibly daring, or incredibly stupid.

He continued to stare at Vivian, before adding.

'I think there's no chance we'll be in The Three Broomsticks during lunch, so I wouldn't bother checking there.'

Vivian's eyes were half-closed.

'Don't worry, we won't.'

Gary watched the three girls leave for Ravenclaw.

'That's a date then. You been to the Broomsticks?'

'A couple of times in the first term.' Tom tried to sound casual, but he was still confused why Gary thought they'd be there. Vivian had just turned him down.

'Good, you can show us the way then.' He nudged Tom with his shoulder and they headed back towards Slytherin.

It was just after noon in The Three Broomsticks and Tom and Gary were sipping their butterbeers, sitting beside one of the windows. Gary deliberately chose somewhere far from his and Eudoras' earlier spying mission. Tom had bought their drinks and the landlord nodded at him in recognition; he eyed Gary curiously, wondering whether he'd seen him before.

They'd arrived on the stroke of twelve; Tom insisted that any earlier was morning, not lunch. He was right, but if Gary had his way, they'd have barged in at opening time. Gary was wearing his brown tweed suit and looked overdressed for their casual surroundings. Meanwhile, the girls were shopping in Hogsmeade. Eudora suggested they leave for The Three Broomsticks at midday, but Vivian just shook her head sympathetically.

'Oh, you've gotta be kidding, Dora? Let them wait. You have to build your entrance if you want top billing.' All of which, passed miles over Eudora's head.

It was one-thirty before Vivian suggested that now would be a good time to turn up. They left the miniature beasts emporium on Blue Bern Road and Eudora crossed to the other side.

'Slow down. What's the big hurry?' Vivian was shrugging and smiling.

Eudora felt skewered: wriggling at the end of a lance. Dishonesty of any kind was unfamiliar territory for her; you had to be so careful when embroidering the truth.

'Just thirsty,' Eudora smiled back.

They entered the bar and scanned the room. Vivian offered to get the drinks, but Gary was over in a flash.

'We're by the windows. I'll get these.'

They sat down together, Gary returned with the drinks and then it rolled in like a blanket of sea-fog. Silence. Scraping chairs; distant conversation; clinking glasses. The five of them delicately sipped their drinks, continually selecting, then rejecting topics of conversation. In total silence.