Ginny looked up as Ron came into the kitchen, carrying a blue-bound book in his hands.
'How's Hermione?' she asked.
'She must be all right. She gave me homework.' He waved the book in his hand at them (Tandy's Magical Reference Dictionary, Vol. S).
'I'm supposed to be looking up spells having to do with sleep. And dreaming.'
'Anything so far?' asked Charlie, proffering a plate of biscuits.
Ron flopped into a chair. 'Nothing about sleep spells, or dreams either, for that matter. Although if you want to make pastries invisible or Summon up a troupe of can-can dancers in luminous lederhosen, I'm your guy.'
'Charlie?' It was Mrs. Weasley, standing in the doorway, wearing one of her more patched old robes and looking tired. She smiled when Ginny glanced up at her.
'Lo, Mum,' said Charlie. 'Tea?'
'No. There was just something I wanted to show you. I was cleaning up Percy's room, you know, to take my mind off things, and I found this in a pocket of his pajamas.' She held out a folded white piece of paper. 'It's addressed to Draco Malfoy.'
Eyes widening, Charlie took the paper. 'Thanks, Mum.'
Mrs. Weasley smiled and left. Charlie began unfolding the paper.
Ron craned his neck over to see get a better view. 'What's it say?'
'Nose out, Ron,' said Charlie, not unkindly, and started scanning the letter. As he read it, his face set into a strange expression.
'Come on,' wheedled Ron. 'What's Snape say? Is he dead? What?'
Ginny snorted. 'Yes, Ron, because if Snape died, he'd be sure to write to Draco and tell him all about it.'
'Don't be ridiculous,' Charlie said, and grinned. 'He'd be way too busy with the funeral to write.'
'Charlie,' groaned Ron, but Charlie, ignoring him, got to his feet, went over to the fireplace, and knelt down by the flames.
'Auditori Malfoy Mansion,' he said, and after a few moments, Narcissa's head and shoulders appeared among the low flames.
'Yes?' she said. She looked exhausted, her eyes ringed by black shadows. When she recognized Charlie, her dark eyes widened. 'Is there any-'
'News? No,' said Charlie, gently but firmly. 'I'm sorry.'
She bit her lip. 'Is everything all right, then?'
'As well as can be expected. I've got something here I thought might be of interest to you and Sirius. Is he around?'
'He came home, but he went straight to the dungeons. I think he's checking on — well, the situation.'
'Ah,' said Charlie diplomatically, and held out the folded white square of paper. Narcissa reached a pale slender hand out of the fire and took it from him. 'It's addressed to Draco,' said Charlie. 'From Snape.'
Narcissa's eyes flicked up to Charlie, then back down to the letter.
'Apparently Snape brewed up some kind of Willpower potion for Draco,' said Charlie. 'To help him resist the pull of Slytherin. I thought Sirius might be interested-'
But Narcissa, clutching the parchment, had already vanished.
She dreamed she stood in a clearing at the heart of a forest, and in the center of the clearing was a tree. It was the greatest tree she could ever have imagined, and more than that. The giant roots rose above her head like the rafters of a monstrous hall. Beyond the she could see the huge twisted trunk of the tree going up and up and up, and far beyond that, so high that drifting clouds and distance made it hard to see, she could just make out the great dark shadowy spread of leaves and branches. A tiny black speck floated among them. As it drew closer she saw that it was a glittering flying thing -
not a bird, but a small winged serpent with jeweled scales.
It landed on the earth a few feet from her, twisted, rippled, and became a man, standing. She felt no surprise; she had already known it would be him. He was pale, very pale, and he wore dark green robes. Something was bound around his waist — a sword, she saw. He looked both contained and terribly tense, the skin of his face tight against the bones, his eyes, once silver, black now, fixed on hers.
'You called me here,' he said, and his voice was unyielding. 'What do you want?'
'I wanted to give you this,' she said and held out in her hand something that glittered like a sparkling stone.
He made no move to take it. 'So it is final, then?'
She nodded. 'It's final. I will be your Source no longer.'
'This is because of Godric,' he said furiously.
'Godric has nothing to do with it.'
'I could force you,' he said ruminatively. 'There are ways.'
'An unwilling Source is useless,' she said. 'You know that.'
'And it doesn't matter to you that I love you?'
She raised her chin. Glared at him. 'You don't love me.'
He crossed the clearing, seized her by the wrists, stared down at her.
She looked at him, at his face, so changed now. She had thought he was gentle once, a feeling person,
