afternoon, a few days after New Year, Elara, Harry, Ron, and Ginny lined up beside the kitchen fire to return to Hogwarts.The Ministry had arranged this one-off connection to the Floo Network to return students quickly and safely to the school. Only Mrs. Weasley was there to say good-bye, as Mr. Weasley, Fred, George, Aurora, Bill, and Fleur were all at work. Mrs. Weasley dissolved into tears at the moment of parting. Admittedly, it took very little to set her off lately; she had been crying on and off ever since Percy had stormed from the house on Christmas Day with his glasses splattered with mashed parsnip (for which Fred, George, Aurora, and Ginny all claimed credit). Elara only wished she had seen it happen.

"Don't cry, Mum," said Ginny, patting her on the back as Mrs. Weasley sobbed into her shoulder. "It's okay. . . ."

"Yeah, don't worry about us," said Ron, permitting his mother to plant a very wet kiss on his cheek, "or about Percy. He's such a prat, it's not really a loss, is it?"

Mrs. Weasley sobbed harder than ever as she enfolded Elara in her arms. "Promise me you'll look after yourself. . . . Stay out of trouble. . . ."

"I always do, Mrs. Weasley," said Elara. "I live a quiet life, you know me."

She gave a watery chuckle and wrapped Harry up in another bone-crushing hug.

"Be good, then, all of you. . . ."

Elara stepped into the emerald fire and shouted "Hogwarts!"

She had one last fleeting view of the Weasleys' kitchen and Mrs. Weasley's tearful face before the flames engulfed her; spinning very fast, she caught blurred glimpses of other Wizarding rooms, which were whipped out of sight before she could get a proper look; then she was slowing down, finally stopping squarely in the fireplace in Professor McGonagall's office. She barely glanced up from her work as Elara clambered out over the grate.

"Evening, Tonks. Try not to get too much ash on the carpet."

"It's nice to see you too, Professor."

Elara sat in a rather comfy armchair as Harry came spinning into view.

When Ginny and Ron had arrived, all four of them trooped out of McGonagall's office and off toward Gryffindor Tower. Elara glanced out of the corridor windows as they passed; the sun was already sinking over grounds carpeted in deeper snow than had lain over the Burrow garden. In the distance, she could see Hagrid feeding Buckbeak in front of his cabin.

"Baubles," said Ron confidently, when they reached the Fat Lady, who was looking rather paler than usual and winced at his loud voice.

"No," she said.

"What d'you mean, 'no'?"

"There is a new password," she said. "And please don't shout."

"But we've been away, how're we supposed to — ?"

"Lara! Harry! Ginny!" Hermione was hurrying toward them, very pink-faced and wearing a cloak, hat, and gloves. "I got back a couple of hours ago, I've just been down to visit Hagrid and Buck — I mean Witherwings," she said breathlessly. "Did you have a good Christmas?"

"Yeah," said Ron at once, "pretty eventful, Rufus Scrim —"

"I've got something for you, you two," said Hermione to Elara and Harry, neither looking at Ron nor giving any sign that she had heard him. "Oh, hang on — password. Abstinence."

"Precisely," said the Fat Lady in a feeble voice, and swung forward to reveal the portrait hole.

"What's up with her?" asked Elara.

"Overindulged over Christmas, apparently," said Hermione, rolling her eyes as she led the way into the packed common room. "She and her friend Violet drank their way through all the wine in that picture of drunk monks down by the Charms corridor. Anyway . . ."

She rummaged in her pocket for a moment, then pulled out a scroll of parchment with Dumbledore's writing on it.

"Great," said Harry, unrolling it at once to discover that their next lesson with Dumbledore was scheduled for the following night. "Lara and I've got loads to tell him — and you. Let's sit down —"

But at that moment there was a loud squeal of "Won-Won!" and Lavender Brown came hurtling out of nowhere and flung herself into Ron's arms.

Several onlookers sniggered, including Elara; Hermione gave a tinkling laugh and said, "There's a table over here. . . . Coming, Ginny?"

"No, thanks, I said I'd meet Dean," said Ginny, though Elara could not help noticing that she did not sound very enthusiastic.

Leaving Ron and Lavender locked in a kind of vertical wrestling match, Elara led Harry and Hermione over to the spare table.

"So how was your Christmas?"

"Oh, fine," she shrugged. "Nothing special. How was it at WonWon's?"

"I'll tell you in a minute," said Harry. "Look, Hermione, can't you — ?"

Elara already knew what Hermione was going to say.

"No, I can't," she said flatly. "So don't even ask."

"I thought maybe, you know, over Christmas —"

"It was the Fat Lady who drank a vat of five-hundred-year-old wine, Harry, not me. So what was this important news you two wanted to tell me?"

She looked too fierce to argue with at that moment, so Harry thankfully dropped the subject of Ron and recounted all that he and Elara had overheard between Draco and Snape. When he had finished, Hermione sat in thought for a moment and then said, "Don't you think — ?"

"— he was pretending to offer help so that he could trick Malfoy into telling him what he's doing?"

"Well, yes," said Hermione.

"Ron's dad and Lupin think so," Harry said grudgingly. "But this definitely proves Malfoy's planning something, you can't deny that."

Elara hated the fact she didn't react fast enough to throw Harry off of Draco's trail. Keeping the peace was going to be much more difficult than she thought.

"No, I can't," answered Hermione slowly.

"And he's acting on Voldemort's orders, just like I said!"

"Hmm . . . did either of them actually mention Voldemort's name?"

Harry frowned, probably trying to remember.

"I'm not sure . . . Snape definitely said 'your master,' and who else would that be?"

"I don't know," said Hermione, biting her lip. "Maybe his father?" She stared across the room, apparently lost in thought, not even noticing Lavender tickling Ron.

And the rest of the evening passed amicably with the three of them abusing the Minister of Magic, for Hermione, like Ron, thought that after all the Ministry had put Elara and Harry through the previous year, they had a great deal of nerve asking him for help now. The new term started next morning with a pleasant surprise for the sixth years: a large sign had been pinned to the common room notice boards overnight.

APPARITION LESSONS

If you are seventeen years of age, or will turn seventeen onor before the 31st August next, you are eligible for a twelve-week course of Apparition Lessons from a Ministry of Magic Apparition instructor. Please sign below if you would like to participate.

Cost: 12 Galleons.

Elara, Harry, and Ron joined the crowd that was jostling around the notice and taking it in turns to write their names at the bottom. Ron was just taking out his quill to sign after Hermione when Lavender crept up behind him, slipped her hands over his eyes, and trilled, "Guess who, Won-Won?"

Elara turned to see Hermione stalking off; she and Harry caught up with her, neither having any wish to stay behind with Ron and Lavender, but to Elara's surprise, Ron caught up with them only a little way beyond the portrait hole, his ears bright red and his expression disgruntled. Without a word, Hermione sped up to walk with Neville.

"So — Apparition," said Ron, his tone making it perfectly plain that neither Elara nor Harry were to mention what had just happened. "Should be a laugh, eh?"

"I don't know," said Elara. "Maybe it's better when you do it yourself, I didn't enjoy it much when Dumbledore took me along for the ride. I threw up."

"I forgot you and Harry'd already done it. . . . I'd better pass my test first time," said Ron, looking anxious.

"Fred and George did," said Elara.

"Charlie failed, though, didn't he?" said Harry.

"Yeah, but Charlie's bigger than me" — Ron held his arms out from his body as though he was a gorilla — "so Fred and George didn't go on about it much . . . not to his face anyway . . ."

"When can we take the actual test?" asked Harry.

"Soon as we're seventeen. That's only March for me!"

"Yeah, but you wouldn't be able to Apparate in here, not in the castle . . ."

"Not the point, is it? Everyone would know I could Apparate if I wanted."

Ron was not the only one to be excited at the prospect of Apparition. All that day there was much talk about the forthcoming lessons; a great deal of store was set by being able to vanish and reappear at will.

"How cool will it be when we can just —" Seamus clicked his fingers to indicate disappearance. "Me cousin Fergus does it just to annoy me, you wait till I can do it back . . . He'll never have another peaceful moment. . . ."

Lost in visions of this happy prospect, he flicked his wand a little too enthusiastically, so that instead of producing the fountain of pure water that was the object of today's Charms lesson, he let out a hoselike jet that ricocheted off the ceiling and knocked Professor Flitwick flat on his face. Aspen had tears in her eyes from trying to prevent herself from laughing.

"Elara and Harry already Apparated," Ron told a slightly abashed Seamus, after Professor Flitwick had dried himself off with a wave of his wand and set Seamus lines: "I am a wizard, not a baboon brandishing a stick."

"Dum — er — someone took them. Side-Along Apparition, you know."

"Whoa!" whispered Seamus, and he, Aspen, Dean, and Neville put their heads a little closer to hear what Apparition felt like.

For the rest of the day, Elara and Harry were besieged with requests from the other sixth years to describe the sensation of Apparition. All of them seemed awed, rather than put off, when they told them how uncomfortable it was or when Elara said many vomited afterward, and they were still answering detailed questions at ten to eight that evening, when they were forced to lie and say that they needed to return books to the library, so as to escape in time for their lesson with Dumbledore.

The lamps in Dumbledore's office were lit, the portraits of previous headmasters were snoring gently in their frames, and the Pensieve was ready upon the desk once more. Dumbledore's hands lay on either side of it, the right one as blackened and burnt-looking as ever. It did not seem to have healed at all and Elara wondered, for perhaps the hundredth time, what had caused such a distinctive injury, but did not ask; Dumbledore had said that he would know eventually and there was, in any case, another subject he wanted to discuss. But before Harry could say anything about Snape and Draco like he wanted, Dumbledore spoke.

"I hear that you two met the Minister of Magic over Christmas?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "He's not very happy with us."

"No," sighed Dumbledore. "He is not very happy with me either. We must try not to sink beneath our anguish, but battle on."

Elara and Harry grinned at Dumbledore's usual saying.

"He wanted us to tell the Wizarding community that the Ministry's doing a wonderful job," said Elara, her nose scrunched up in slight disgust.

Dumbledore smiled.

"It was Fudge's idea originally, you know. During his last days in office, when he was trying desperately to cling to his post, he sought a meeting with the two of you, hoping that you would give him your support —"

Elara snorted. After that foul woman?

"After everything Fudge did last year?" said Harry angrily. "After Umbridge?"

"I told Cornelius there was no chance of it, but the idea did not die when he left office. Within hours of Scrimgeour's appointment we met and he demanded that I arrange a meeting with you —"

"So that's why you argued!" Harry blurted out. "It was in the Daily Prophet."

"The Prophet is bound to report the truth occasionally," said Dumbledore, "if only accidentally. Yes, that was why we argued. Well, it appears that Rufus found a way to corner you at last."

"He accused us of being 'Dumbledore's kids through and through.' " said Elara randomly, wondering how Dumbledore would react.

"How very rude of him."

"I told him we were."

Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. Behind Elara, Fawkes the phoenix let out a low, soft, musical cry. To Elara's slight embarrassment, she suddenly realized that Dumbledore's bright blue eyes looked rather watery, and played with her hair nervously. When Dumbledore spoke, however, his voice was quite steady.

"I am very touched, Elara."

"Scrimgeour wanted to know where you go when you're not at Hogwarts," said Harry, looking fixedly at his knees.

"Yes, he is very nosy about that," said Dumbledore, now sounding cheerful, and Elara stopped playing with her hair. "He has even attempted to have me followed. Amusing, really. He set Dawlish to tail me. It wasn't kind. I have already been forced to jinx Dawlish once; I did it again with the greatest regret."

"So they still don't know where you go?" asked Harry, clearly digging for more information on this intriguing subject, but Dumbledore merely smiled over the top of his half-moon spectacles.

"No, they don't, and the time is not quite right for you to know either. Now, I suggest we press on, unless there's anything else — ?"

"There is, actually, sir," said Harry. "It's about Malfoy and Snape."

"Professor Snape, Harry."

"Yes, sir. We overheard them during Professor Slughorn's party . . . well, we followed them, actually. . . ."

Dumbledore listened to Harry's story with an impassive face, occasionally glancing at Elara. When Harry had finished he did not speak for a few moments, then said, "Thank you for telling me this, Harry, but I suggest that you put it out of your mind. I do not think that it is of great importance."

"Not of great importance?" repeated Harry incredulously. "Professor, did you understand — ?"

"Yes, Harry, blessed as I am with extraordinary brainpower, I understood everything you told me," said Dumbledore, a little sharply. "I think you might even consider the possibility that I understood more than you did. Again, I am glad that you have confided in me, but let me reassure you that you have not told me anything that causes me disquiet."

Harry sat in seething silence, glaring at Dumbledore. Elara sat rather uncomfortably in her seat.

"So, sir," said Harry, in a slightly polite and calm voice, "you definitely still trust — ?"

"I have been tolerant enough to answer that question already," said Dumbledore, but he did not sound very tolerant anymore. "My answer has not changed."

"I should think not," said a snide voice; Phineas Nigellus was evidently only pretending to be asleep.

Dumbledore ignored him.

"And now, I must insist that we press on. I have more important things to discuss with you this evening."

Harry sat there looking mutinous. As though he had read Harry's mind, Dumbledore shook his head.

"Ah, Harry, how often this happens, even between the best of friends! Each of us believes that that he has to say is much more important than anything the other might have to contribute!"

"I don't think what you've got to say is unimportant, sir," said Harry stiffly.

Elara was very uncomfortable, glancing back and forth between Dumbledore and Harry.

"Well, you are quite right, because it is not," said Dumbledore briskly. "I have two more memories to show you this evening, both obtained with enormous difficulty, and the second of them is, I think, the most important I have collected.

"So," said Dumbledore, in a ringing voice, "we meet this evening to continue the tale of Tom Riddle, whom we left last lesson poised on the threshold of his years at Hogwarts. You will remember how excited he was to hear that he was a wizard, that he refused my company on a trip to Diagon Alley, and that I, in turn, warned him against continued thievery when he arrived at school.

"Well, the start of the school year arrived and with it came Tom Riddle, a quiet boy in his second hand robes, who lined up with the other first years to be sorted. He was placed in Slytherin House almost the moment that the Sorting Hat touched his head," continued Dumbledore, waving his blackened hand toward the shelf over his head where the Sorting Hat sat, ancient and unmoving. "How soon Riddle learned that the famous founder of the House could talk to snakes, I do not know — perhaps that very evening. The knowledge can only have excited him and increased his sense of self-importance.

"However, if he was frightening or impressing fellow Slytherins with displays of Parseltongue in their common room, no hint of it reached the staff. He showed no sign of outward arrogance or aggression at all. As an unusually talented and very good-looking orphan, he naturally drew attention and sympathy from the staffalmost from the moment of his arrival. He seemed polite, quiet, and thirsty for knowledge. Nearly all were most favorably impressed by him."

"You didn't tell them what he'd been like when you met him at the orphanage?" asked Elara.

"No, I did not. Though he had shown no hint of remorse, it was possible that he felt sorry for how he had behaved before and was resolved to turn over a fresh leaf. I chose to give him that chance."