"Wow," said a dark-haired witch by the name of Nancy Hua. "That's really... sophisticated of you, Sherice."
"Look, you all, we need to keep this realistic," said Eloise Rosen, a tall witch who'd been General of an army and hence spoke with an air of authority. "We know - because she kissed him - that Granger was in love with Potter. So the only reason she'd try to kill Malfoy is if she knew that she was losing Potter to him. There's no need to make it all sound so complicated - you're all acting like this is a play instead of real life!"
"But even if Granger was in love, it's still funny that she'd just snap like that," said Chloe, whose black robes combined with her night-black skin to make her look like a darkened silhouette. "I don't know... I think maybe there's more to this than just a romance novel gone wrong. I think maybe most people haven't got any idea at all what's going on."
"Yes! Thank you!" burst out Dean Thomas. "Look - don't you realize - like Harry Potter told us all - if you didn't predict that something would happen, if it took you completely by surprise, then what you believed about the world when you didn't see it coming, isn't enough to explain..." Dean's voice trailed off, as he saw that nobody was listening. "It's completely hopeless, isn't it?"
"You hadn't figured that out yet?" said Lavender Brown, who was sitting across the table from her two fellow former Chaotics. "How'd you ever make Lieutenant?"
"Oh, you two be quiet!" Sherice snapped at them. "It's obvious you both want the three of them for yourselves!"
"I mean it!" Chloe said. "What if what's really going on is different from all the, you know, normal things that all the ordinary people are talking about? What if somebody - made Granger do what she did, just like Potter was trying to tell everyone?"
"I think Chloe's right," said a foreign-looking boy wizard who always introduced himself as 'Adrian Turnipseed', though his parents had actually named him Mad Drongo. "I think this whole time there's been..." Adrian lowered his voice ominously, "...a hidden hand..." Adrian raised his voice again, "shaping all that's happened. One person who's been behind everything, from the beginning. And I don't mean Professor Snape, either."
"You don't mean -" gasped Sarah.
"Yes," Adrian said. "The real one behind it all is - Tracey Davis!"
"That's what I think too," Chloe said. "After all -" She glanced around rapidly. "Ever since that thing with the bullies and the ceiling - even the trees in the forests around Hogwarts look like they're shaking, like they're afraid -"
Seamus Finnigan was frowning thoughtfully. "I think I see where Harry gets his... you know... from," Seamus said, lowering his voice so that only Lavender and Dean could hear.
"Oh, I totally know what you mean," Lavender said. She didn't bother to lower her own voice. "It's a wonder he didn't crack and just start killing everyone ages ago."
"Personally," Dean said, also in a quieter voice, "I'd say the really scary part is - that could've been us."
"Yeah," said Lavender. "It's a good thing we're all perfectly sane now."
Dean and Seamus nodded solemnly.
Hypothesis: G. L.
(April 8th, 1992, 8:08pm)
The Floo-Fire of the Headmaster's office blazed a bright pale-green, the fire concentrating in on itself into a spinning emeraldine whirlwind, and then flared even brighter and spit a human figure into the air -
There was a blur of motion as the resolving figure snapped up a wand, smoothly spinning with the Floo's momentum like a ballet dance step, so that his firing arc covered the entire 360-degree arc of the room; and then just as abruptly, the figure stopped in place.
In the first instant that Harry saw that man, before Harry even took in the eye, he noticed the scars on the hands, the scars on the face, like the man had been burned and cut over his entire body; though only the man's hands and face were visible, of all his flesh. The rest of the man's body was hidden, encased not in robes, but in leather that looked more like armor than clothing; dark gray leather, matching the man's mess of grayed hair.
The next thing that Harry's vision comprehended was the brilliant blue eye occupying the right side of the man's face.
One part of Harry's mind realized that the person whom Professor McGonagall had named 'Mad-Eye Moody' was the same as the one Dumbledore had called 'Alastor', within the memory Dumbledore had shown Harry; an image from before whatever event had scarred every inch of the man's body and taken a chunk out of his nose -
And another part of his mind noticed the jolt of adrenaline. Harry had drawn his wand in sheer reflex when the man had spun out of the Floo like that, there'd been something about it that felt like ambush, Harry's hand had already started to level his wand for a Somnium before he'd managed to stop himself. Even now the armored man was holding his wand level, not pointed at any particular person but covering the whole room, and that wand was already in perfect line with his eyes, like a soldier sighting down a gun. There was danger in the man's stance and the set of his boots, danger in the leather armor he wore and danger in that brilliant blue eye.
When the scarred man spoke, addressing the Headmaster, his voice was edged. "I suppose you think this room is secure?"
"There are only friends here," Dumbledore said.
The man's head jerked toward Harry. "That include him?"
"If Harry Potter is not our friend," Dumbledore said gravely, "then we are all certainly doomed; so we may as well assume that he is."
The man's wand stayed level, not quite pointing at Harry. "Boy almost drew on me just then."
"Er..." Harry said. He noticed that his hand was still tightly holding the wand, and consciously relaxed his hand and dropped it back to his side. "Sorry about that, you looked a bit... combat-ready."
The scarred man's wand moved slightly away from where it had almost pointed at Harry, though it didn't lower, and the man let out a short bark of laughter. "Constant vigilance, eh, lad?" said the man.
"It's not paranoia if they really are out to get you," Harry recited the proverb.
The man turned fully toward Harry; and insofar as Harry could read any expression on the scarred face, the man now looked interested.
Dumbledore's eyes had regained some of the brilliant twinkle that they'd had before the Azkaban breakout, a smile beneath his silver mustache as though that smile had never left. "Harry, this is Alastor Moody, called also Mad-Eye, who will command the Order of the Phoenix after me - if anything should happen to me, that is. Alastor, this is Harry Potter. I have every hope the two of you shall get along fantastically."
"I've heard a good deal about you, boy," said Mad-Eye Moody. His one dark natural eye stayed fixed on Harry, while the point of brilliant blue spun frantically, seeming to rotate all the way around within its socket. "Not all of it good. Heard they're calling you the Dementor Spooker, in the Department."
After some consideration, Harry decided to reply with a knowing smile.
"How'd you pull off that one, boy?" the man said softly. Now his blue eye was fixed on Harry as well. "I had a little chat with one of the Aurors who escorted the Dementor there from Azkaban. Beth Martin said it came straight from the pit, and no-one gave it any special instructions along the way. Of course, she could be lying."