I

A/N: My thanks to my betas, Anastasia and AnnieTalbot.

Summary: A fall of blood and a seed of hope.

And still, it waited.

When they finally hit the snowbank far below, they made so little sound that they could almost be said to have made none at all.

Almost no sound – but he had heard.

From far in the depths of the castle where he drifted, a small splash of blood masked by a solemn, quiet hiss as a torch sputtered in the breath of his passage, he had heard.

A simple spell.

A tear in the fabric of lies.

It had called him, and, as the shards of Hermione's windows fell softly into a quiet blanket of snow, he had heard its calling in their fall, and he had come.

The sad-eyed ghost hung motionless above the softly pocked snow where her window had fallen, and he raised his face to the moon and wondered.

And as he wondered, a drop of blood fell, impossible, unheeded, from his hand.

In the negative landscape of blinding whiteness, it fell amidst the remains of her window and, no colder than the snow on which it fell, it stayed liquid, smooth alongside shards of fallen glass.

In the moonlight, he was nearly invisible, and he placed his hand against the great cornerstone.

He seemed to listen for a moment then he smiled.

It was almost finished.

It had waited so long.

---

Her smile deepened, and she nodded, taking his hand as firmly as the substance of mist and memory would allow.

All was quiet in the Hospital Wing as Neville and the tiny ghost wafted down the long aisle between rows of empty beds, disappearing in the bright patches of moonlight, glowing softly in each fall of shadow. The smaller ghost released Neville's hand and shot with purpose straight toward a small, oaken door at the far corner. She paused, tilting her head toward the dragon, which peeped again and left her shoulder, coming to light on a pile of freshly starched linens. The ghost waved to the dragon and disappeared through the door.

Neville cocked his head at the dragon, curious as to how it seemed to know what she wanted, then followed her into the Healer's office.

Poppy sat, contained in a small glow of lamplight, her head uncovered, staring quietly at a gold ring on her desk blotter.

The smaller ghost glanced beseechingly at Neville, and, although he was reluctant to intrude on the Healer's thoughts, he spoke quietly from the shadows by the door. "Madam Pomfrey?"

"Yes, child, wha..." Poppy began automatically, looking up from her contemplation. "Goodness. Longbottom." She blinked hard once, staring. "Where have you been?" She swallowed. "Forgive me. You startled me. I was..." Glancing back at the ring, she rose. "I've not laid eyes on you in years, boy."

"No, Ma'am," Neville confirmed.

Poppy's eyes widened. "How did you resubstantiate?"

"I..." he hesitated apologetically. "I've no idea."

The small ghost slid between them, looking first from one to the other with large, urgent eyes.

"But she seems to," Neville continued, "and she needs to talk to you, I think."

"She does?" Poppy looked at the smaller ghost as if trying to place her. "Very well," Poppy said, turning to the smaller ghost. "Go ahead, child."

The little ghost gave a small, shy smile, then looked to Neville again.

"Um... oh. Right. Have you a quill handy? She prefers writing to talking."

"Writing?" Poppy blinked again, amazed.

"She can write," Neville stated quietly.

Poppy nodded crisply and gestured for the smaller ghost to sit at her desk. Neville drifted closer, and, flanked by Healer and friend, the tiny ghost picked up the quill and began to write.

Her round, childish letters read, "I think this did it." She placed the seed carefully on the blotter, next to Minerva's ring.

Poppy leaned in to examine the seed then backed away as the chill of two ghosts reached her. "Dandelion?" She frowned, thinking.

"Leontodon taraxacum," Neville confirmed, smiling when the Healer's eyebrows shot up.

"Nothing wrong with your memory, is there, Longbottom?" Poppy turned to the small ghost. "No, child, I'm afraid that's just an ordinary dandelion. No magical or medicinal uses whatsoever."

The little ghost turned in her chair to implore Neville to speak.

Neville nodded. "Madam Pomfrey, I know it's impossible – though I'm not sure she does – but it also refreshed a broken singular-use Charm. I saw it myself."

"Ordinary dandelion can't–" She fell silent as the smaller ghost interrupted her by tugging at her sleeve, pulling her toward the door. "My word!" Poppy exclaimed as her entire arm turned blue with cold.

The smaller ghost paled and darted behind Neville, hiding her face in her hands.

"If you'd just come out into the ward and see for yourself, Madam Pomfrey. We couldn't bring the dragon through the door," Neville said, placing his hand on the wee ghost's trembling shoulder. He turned his back to the Healer to crook his finger under the smaller ghost's chin. "Don't be scared. She's not angry."

The smaller ghost moved her hands to peek skeptically through Neville.

"Of course I'm not angry," Poppy said briskly, reaching for the door. "Show me this miraculous dragon." Gesturing for the ghosts to precede her, she asked, "Longbottom, does this child have a name?"

---

Severus followed the sharp pace of Hermione's heels on the stone floor, the sweep of her cloak, her hair casting softly behind her as she marked a determined path through the castle.

She swept past the Library.

Past the staircase leading to the dungeons.

Past the turn that would take them to the head's office.

As he followed through long, windowless corridors, he watched the way the torchlight gleamed on her hair, falling loose around shoulders, the chill in the air seeming to retreat before its warmth.

As he followed along high, open arcades, he watched the way the moonlight beamed on her skin, the shadows falling away before her.

And they passed the door to the Astronomy Tower, and he didn't notice.

Finally, she halted at the head of the grand stairs leading down into the Entrance Hall.

He joined her, their cloaks whispering to a quiet, dignified stillness, and he waited for her to speak.

"Our guests should be here soon," she said grimly, not taking her eyes off the castle's great door.

At the word "guests," he could have sworn he saw a vicious hint of a dimple at one corner of her mouth.

"Indeed," he drawled.

"I thought it appropriate to greet them." Her eyes flashed – feral, focused, deadly.

"By all means, Professor Granger, let us do them the honour they deserve." He smiled slowly, wickedly, offering her his arm.

Resting her fingertips lightly in the crook of his elbow, but not taking her eyes off the door, she nodded, and, as one, they descended the stair.

---

Hannah did not know what had smashed the Library windows; nor had she stayed to find out.

The librarian sat by the empty grate in her office, her hands shaking violently, too violently to hold her wand.

She had managed to bolt the door. Rocking slightly, she hoped that would be enough.

But they were coming. They would fix everything.

And there was always Harry. Harry, who had saved them all before. Harry, upon whom you could always count to be strong, to know what to do. Harry, to whom the world had always looked, would always look when the things of Darkness threatened to break loose and consume them all.

Her hands calmed.

What were those professors – that murderer and... and her – to He-Whom-She-Still-Wouldn't-Name?

Nothing.

Nothing at all, to Harry Potter.

He'd be Minister of Magic soon, and the Unspeakables would work for him.

They'd tell him – they'd have to. And then he'd know.

And if they didn't fix it, Harry would.

Of course.

Her breathing slowed, and, on her third try, she managed to light a fire, although only one side of it actually caught.

No matter. They'd be here soon enough.

She still didn't unbolt the door. She'd know when they arrived; you could hear the great door opening all over the castle.

Time passed, and a small patch of moonlight crept across her floor, slipping unnoticed to illuminate the side of Hannah's grate that lay untouched by her badly-cast Incendio.

---

The dragon looked up at Poppy quizzically as she examined it.

"Broken, you say?"

Neville glanced at the little ghost for confirmation.

She nodded.

"Eyes filmed over?"

"Yes, Ma'am," he said. "I saw that for myself."

Straightening, Poppy smiled at the dragon and turned to the little ghost. "Who broke it, child? Was it you?"

The tiny ghost shook her head, her hair a pale cloud behind her as she darted back into Poppy's office.

The dragon took wing after her.

Poppy and Neville followed more slowly.

"You don't know her name?"

Neville shook his head. "She's only spoken once, and nearly blew herself backward through a wall."

"Interesting... well, what did she say?"

"She said, 'I.'"

Poppy's mouth twitched. "Not much to go on, is it?"

Neville's brows furrowed, but he was too polite to disagree with the Healer. "Perhaps not, Ma'am."

The small ghost had finished writing, and they leaned over her shoulders to read.

"Severus?" Poppy glanced sharply at the dragon, her eyes narrowing as she tried to remember something. "Oh, dear."

"What is it?" Neville tossed a reassuring look at the small ghost, whose hand had moved protectively toward the dragon, who was flitting curiously from object to object on Poppy's desk.

"If I'm not mistaken, that would have been a gift from Albus. He was forever twitting him about flapping about like some great...." She sighed. "Oh, dear."

The small ghost's eyes flitted from the Healer to Neville and back.

Poppy shook herself out of her memories and turned back to the dragon, which was hovering above Minerva's ring. "Oh, no you don't, you little scamp." She swept the ring into her pocket. "Now, I want a closer look at that seed. If you'll excuse me, child..."

The little ghost scooped the dragon out of the air and rose to give the Healer her chair.

The seed lay on its side on the pristine white blotter.

The Healer took a pair of forceps from a small, leather case and picked the seed up carefully.

Where it had lain, it had left a small spot of blood.

Poppy and Neville stared at the spot, then turned, amazed, to the tiny ghost.

She looked at them solemnly and nodded.