The Snake Eye

Chapter Three: Noises in the night.

Nighttime shadows heighten each sensation,

Darkness turns and wakes imagination,

Silently the senses

Abandon their defences...

'Music of the Night' from The Phantom of the Opera

Dumbledore sat in silence. Another year, so different from those that had passed. "Let us hope it will be as peaceful as the last" he repeated to himself. But wondered if he meant it. Another year with no news of Voldemort.

He knew for certainty what the rest of the wizarding world feared to acknowledge: that Voldemort was back. In his younger days he had believed the adage that 'No news was good news'. Now he was not so sure. At least if something happened it would relieve this waiting, give him something to fight against. Not knowing what the enemy was planning was worst.

Dumbledore sighed. He had tried to prepare. Alastor and Hagrid were organised. He had drawn a circle of those he could trust around him to protect the school. Severus had been working away all summer in his potions workshop deep in the dungeons. Minerva was here - and Poppy. He could rely on them. He could rely on all his staff he reassured himself. Charlie Weasley was no weak link. And, here Dumbledore allowed himself a small smile, Morgan was back.

Most of the Gryffindors spent their last homework-free evening curled around the fire in the huge common room chairs. Warm as the September was, little heat permeated the three-foot castle walls and so the fire was a comforting warmth.

Mili went straight to her dorm after the Sorting Ceremony and the other girls, respecting her feelings, left her alone for a while. She sat, with her knees drawn up under her chin, on the window ledge looking out across the grounds. She was glad that she had a window facing the lake, even though she could hardly see the water during the frequent bad weather.

She had tried to empty her mind; to not think about her mother. She almost wished she hadn't acknowledged their relationship, but it wouldn't have been long before the others worked it out anyway - it was quite an unusual name.

Not to think about her mother... She tried to concentrate on her friends. Ginny. Nicole. Mili felt the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach warning her that her relationships with them all would be threatened with change. They had all been sympathetic and understanding and she had been grateful for Harry's kindness after supper but the gap had been made. She hadn't spoken about her past to them. Was she ashamed she wondered? It wasn't the fact that she didn't know who her father was - she knew that this wasn't exactly unusual, and as he had never been a part of her life she didn't miss him, or even wonder about him much.

No what embarrassed her was her mother's actions. Her mother loved her and wanted the best for her. She, they both, worked hard to scrape by on a slim budget. But Mili knew this was true of others at Hogwarts as well. No, it wasn't that, or her mother's tireless ambition that bothered her. What ashamed Mili was her mother's blatant exhibition of her graceful body and beautiful features. Features Mili had not inherited. She was a mildly pretty, but not striking girl.

Mili tried to shut out images of her mother just that very evening, flirting with handsome Charlie Weasley. But every time she shut her eyes she could see her mother's clinging, low-cut robes as she leant towards the Care of Magical Creatures professor, her delicate hands stroking his sleeves, her eyes laughing with him while watching him up through her eyelashes.

Mili was a year ahead of her age in school, although her circumstances had pushed her to be more mature that many of her contemporaries, she was still the baby of the group by quite a margin.

She hurled herself face down on her bed, pressing her pillow firmly down over her head as if to smother out the thoughts. The sound from the common room increased briefly and then diminished again, letting Mili know that the dorm door had been opened and then shut carefully. So someone had come at last to find her. She didn't move. Didn't acknowledge that she knew she was no longer alone.

"Hey..." murmured Ginny. "Do you want me to go away again and leave you? I thought you might want company... When I want to forget something the easiest way is when one of my brothers comes and pours out his troubles to me - it takes my mind off what is bothering me. Or if you would just rather talk to me...?" she trailed off sitting uncomfortably on the end of the bed.

Mili sat up, hugging her pillow to her. "Thank you," she said. "But I'm not ready to talk about it."

"We can talk about something else to distract you."

Mili laughed hollowly. "It would have to be a pretty huge something else to distract me now."

The sides of Ginny's mouth quirked into a smile that she tried to suppress. Mili threw a pillow at her friend. "Oh! I didn't mean!.." she spluttered horrified.

But she couldn't stay indignant for long as Ginny began to laugh. Despite her mood Mili found herself laughing along.

"I don't mean never to confide in anyone, Ginny. Can we maybe talk about my mother some other time when I have managed to sort out what I think?"

"Of course. Whenever."

They sat in silence smiling awkwardly. Ginny desperate to comfort, to remove some of her friend's pain, but unable to think of anything to say. So she used the method Charlie and Ron had used to comfort her and make her forget her own troubles - by confiding something of her own to Mili.

"Mili? Um... I found something out from Ron a few moths ago and I need to talk to someone about it. Do you mind?" Mili smiled in relief at the change in conversation.

As the clock on the mantle began to draw close to eleven, Harry decided to go upstairs to bed since his lessons started the following morning. He excused himself from his circle of friends who were chatting away about the other pupils.

"Did you notice Malfoy has improved his scenery? I guess Crabbe and Goyle were to stupid to come back to the sixth form."

"I didn't notice."

"Aaahh. He was flanked on either side by Blaise Zabini and Cassandra Avery."

"Lucky bastard. I wouldn't mind having them on either side of me..."

Harry left with a smile.

He washed, changes and climbed into bed. Unusually, Mel did not curl up against his side. She paced up and down the bed hitting Harry softly with her furry head. He scratched between her ears.

"What's wrong, Melly?" he whispered to her.

"Neiowp," she called at him sharply, leaping down from the bed and stalking over to the door.

Harry sighed and sat up, jamming his glasses back onto his nose and padded barefoot over to the heavy, oak door behind his cat.

"If you go out then you will have to wait for the others to come upstairs before you can come back in - and if you miss that it's out all night - I'm not getting up again." He warned the kitten.

She looked up at him with her wide blue eyes. "Neiowp," she chirped again. So he opened the door and let her out, her head held independently high, the tip of her tail curling lazily across her back.

Harry clambered back into bed, pulled the blanket up to his chin and shut his eyes, too close to sleep to notice the cold, glassy touch of his pendant as it fell against his skin.

Across the tower Ginny lay curled in her bed. Unlike Harry she was wide awake. The soft breathing of her friends usually calmed her and sent her off to sleep, but today it seemed loud and intrusive when all she wanted was quiet. She rose quietly, pulled on her dressing gown and crossed the bare floorboards to the door. She descended to the now vacant common room and settled in her favourite armchair, tucking her feet up underneath her to keep them warm from the cold night air. The embers of the once-roaring fire were dying, but still cast enough life for Ginny to be able to look around the common room. Heavy shadows loomed on the stone walls, motionless against the tapestries and Ginny wished she had lit the lamps before sitting down. Now she didn't have the heart to rise and allow the cold air access to her body, even for her ease of mind.

She sat motionless, silent, her brain disconnected from her body. Ginny rarely thought about the Chamber of Secrets, although it occasionally haunted her nightmares when she was nervous - before her end of term exams for example. But tonight the images rose unbidden to her mind and she had to fight to suppress them, biting her lower lip to force down the screams that threatened to escape as she remembered the rows of pillars, the stone snakes, behind any one of which was lurking Tom with his maniacal laughter. She remembered the horror of realising that the smiling, gorgeous Tom in whom she had confided held power over her - could command her. In spite of her self, Ginny shivered. The realisation that she had caused the petrifications had shaken her to the bone. And kind, calm Harry, helping her cope without even knowing that he was. Thoughtfully deflecting questions as he had with Mili earlier that evening.

But even as her mind followed this path she heard hollow footsteps and was plunged back into her nightmare. She pulled her dressing gown closer around her and settled so that she could see the edge of the portrait hole - just in case. Panic rose in her throat and she could feel her heart thudding, the artery in her neck pulsing with blood. She tried to still her breathing, to hear if the footsteps were still there. It was hard to distinguish between the footsteps on floorboards and the beating of her heart but she thought she could still hear them. Over the last few years the sound of a creaking floorboard, even at home in the Burrow, had the ability to transport her back to those few minutes when she hid in vain from Tom Riddle, her heart in her mouth, and she had perfected a way of breathing shallowly and silently and lying motionless as if asleep while actually having her eyes open and fixed on the door. She had assured herself with childish innocence that for as long as she kept vigil nothing would come. And it never did.

But now she saw the portrait move, so slowly and silently that at first she forced herself to believe it was only the product of her over-sensitive imagination. But then a figure was climbing through. In recollection Ginny was surprised at her ability to suppress a scream, but at the time she did not think of it. All she could think of was steadying her breathing so that she would not be heard, immensely thankful that she had chosen the huge, high-backed armchair facing away from the portrait hole.

She didn't move, not even her eyes, as the figure crossed the common room floor, avoiding the creaking board. That meant he knew it was there, the rational part of her brain told her. Someone had been out after hours and was now returning - probably from the Astronomy Tower. But she stayed motionless just in case as the figure began to mount the staircase. Until this point she had been merely scared of being seen - now she realised she couldn't let the figure go without knowing who it was and she turned ever so slightly, hoping that the glowing embers would cast light far enough for her to see.

She instantly recognised her flame-haired brother but instead of relief a deeper fear gripped her heart as she saw, reflecting in the low light, that silent tears were trailing down Ron's face.

In his dream Harry was digging again. The hot sand was coarse against his calloused fingers and infiltrated his clothing, scratching at his legs and back underneath the rough fabric of his tunic. It got underneath his fingernails, forming a dirty grit, and made him feel that he would never be clean again. His arms ached, the sun didn't seem to move and he had no way to make the passage of time. His hole was deepening and the sand he pulled from it was scattered across the slope behind him, darker than the surface sand and colder. But just as dry and unrelentingly endless. Harry felt the exhaustion of manual labour, but no other emotions. Again he felt as if he was watching himself work, watching those tanned arms with their developing muscles scooping and hauling. Watching the trickle of sweat that ran down his forehead and across his scar.

Suddenly Harry felt a sharp pain simultaneously in his scar and in his shoulder and he was hauled unceremoniously back to his waiting body.

Around him the room was dark, even after Harry had pulled back the drapes from around his bed. The others were asleep - Ron in the nearest bed to Harry's was curled with his blankets up over his head. There was no evidence of anything that would have woken Harry but his bladder was demanding attention so Harry rose anyway and padded down the hall.

Downstairs Ginny had sat for several minutes after seeing Ron climb the stairs before deciding to return to her room. She might try to speak to her brother in the morning she considered. But she might just leave it, she thought, remembering her unsuccessful conversation with Mili. Maybe it was none of her business. As she was passing the boys' bathroom she heard a gasp and her heart lurched in sympathy. Ron had always been there when she needed him - she could face down his anger at her intrusion. He might really need her.

Gently she pushed at the door, the embarrassing thought flitting through her mind that the gasp may have been of an entirely different nature and that maybe she should leave it after all. But then she was in the room and it was too late. She felt a blush flood her face as she saw it was not her brother after all, it was Harry. But at least he was alone and clad in his pyjamas and he was peering in the mirror. "We should stop doing this," she teased. But his expression stopped her even as the words left her mouth.

"Look," he said. So she did, following his finger to the word scrawled in the condensation on the mirror. "Reveniam".

"More Latin?" she asked. "Shall we wake Hermione?"

"No. Copy it and then we will erase it. There is no point in worrying other people unnecessarily."

It might be very necessary, Ginny thought. But she didn't say anything. She ran to fetch a quill and scrap of parchment from the common room and copied down the letters. Then Harry tried, with a frown, to erase them. Nothing happened. The condensation did not wipe away and the word remained as clear as when she had first seen it.

"Smash the mirror?" Ginny suggested.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "I could do without the bad luck," he smiled. Ginny was amazed he could be so light hearted. She took a towel from the rail and wrapped it tightly around her hand before punching the mirror. Her knuckles screamed in rage and she heard a similar curse from the mirror as a crack spread across it like a spider's web before the pieces fell to the floor like tiny slivers of silver.

She clutched her hand to her chest, after unwrapping it to ensure she had no more than a few scratches through the cloth. Then she looked up at Harry who was standing surrounded by shards of shattered glass. "I don't think I will get any sleep tonight," she sighed.

Harry thought of his weird dream. "Neither will I." Then something made him confide in her. "I have been having weird dreams."

She raised her eyebrow. "No..." he blushed. "I mean...I'm floating above a desert, then I start digging in the sand..." he proceeded to explain in full. Ginny listened, pushing the glass off the bench with a towel and sitting down.

When he finished speaking they sat in silence listening to the drip of a leaking tap somewhere on the floor above them. Ginny gave a small laugh. Harry turned to look at her. "What's funny?"

"I haven't slept all night. I had a semi-conscious nightmare about the Chamber and then..." she omitted telling him about Ron. "Then I found you and more weird writing, and now we are sitting in the boys bathroom, surrounded by the broken pieces of the mirror, without any thought as to how we will explain all the glass, and discussing dreams."

She laughed again, shaking her head. Instead of making him smile though she saw that Harry's brow was furrowed. "You still have nightmares about the Chamber of Secrets?" he asked softly. She turned away under the force of his gaze. "Not usually. I don't think about it. But when I am scared, or nervous I sometimes think about it." She shivered. "Anyway... I'm cold. I'm going back to bed. See you in the morning." She picked her away across the floor, arms around herself and head down. At the door she stopped. "How are we going to explain...?" she gestured at the broken mirror and the glass everywhere.

"I don't know." Harry sighed, following her out. As he was heading up the stairs he heard a scrabbling noise at the portrait hole. Exchanging a glance with Ginny he crossed the common room and pushed it open. Mel came calmly through the space. Harry breathed a sigh of relief, smiling across at Ginny, who was still standing on the stairs, shivering.

"Go to bed," he told her as he passed, the kitten cuddled up in his arms. He scratched Mel's ears, "And you, Missy? How did you get outside the tower? Huh?" If the kitten was purring a reply, Harry didn't understand it.

Draco Malfoy was lying on his bed in the dungeons fully clothed. He was examining the ceiling of his room, fascinated by the way the stone walls of the corridors met the hewn rock without appearing to join. Two things seamlessly becoming one. He admired the workmanship and skill. High above his head, set level with the ground outside, was a small window. Draco heard something muffled bang gently against the frame. He sat, the pushed himself to his feet, climbing over the footboard at the end of the bed so reach the door so as not to disturb the sleeping forms of the girls sprawled either side of him on the oversized bed.

He padded across the stone floor in bare feet, ignoring the cold and opened the door to the corridor, once more thankful that the maze of corridors in the dungeons allowed sixth formers a room of their own, often a ways away from any others. Before long he saw the form of his owl gliding down towards him, having entered by the high windows in the common room. It looked reproachfully at him for having left his bedroom window shut. Draco studiously ignored it. He had left the window shut intentionally so that the owl would not come into his room, in case Blaise or Cassandra was awake and saw his midnight messages.

He read the parchment, before crumpling it into his pocket. He dismissed the owl without sending a reply and turned to go back into his room. Blaise was still asleep, her auburn hair spread out across the pillow and Draco could see her chest rise and fall with her breathing. Cassandra had her eyes open though and sat as he re-entered the room. "Where have you been?" she whispered, careful not to wake her friend. As he watched she pulled her robes closer around herself, although whether to protect herself from the cold or from his gaze Draco was unsure. He thought about telling her to mind her own business, but the contents of the letter rose to his mind. "The bathroom," he said curtly. Then he climbed past her and settled back in exactly the position he had left, without looking at either of his companions. He felt Cassandra settle down to sleep again, and when he risked a glance at her he saw she had her back to him.

Cassandra waited for what might have been hours before hearing Draco breathing deepen into sleep. She turned slightly so as not to move the mattress and saw that he was dead to the world. Gently she inched herself off the bed, glad Blaise slept so soundly, and slipped her feet into her shoes before leaving the room and easing the door shut behind her.