The heart of winter settled around the magical school white and brisk. It hung from the outdoor archways in jeweled icicles and tugged at cloaks as students hurried between the many buildings of the school. After classes were done for the day, many students found their way outside to have snowball fights, which for witches and wizards were rather spectacular as engorgioed, wingardium leviosaed, ninja-like stalking snowballs were the order of the day. Clusters of girls could often be found dancing with animated snowmen, the most of which were better dancers than last year's Yule Ball left-footed band of bumbling boys. The massive Christmas trees began to go up in the Great Hall, and many of the stairwells had giant python-like strings of garland wrapped around the handrails… until the garland decided to relocate itself for a spell. Every so often a length of garland would find itself a statue or pillar to coil around, and a teacher would have to pry it down and put it back in a more suitable place. It was winter at Hogwarts inside and out.

The joys of the impending holiday were stained, however, by the inevitability of midterm exams. As it came down to crunch-time, fewer students would be out in the yard playing and instead could be found inside studying. The tests weighed heavily on everyone's mind.

It was a time when Hermione Granger was the shining star of the school, and a time when Harry was immeasurably glad that he ended up with such a wonderful girlfriend. She had them in the library or at the common room table studying every evening working on a different subject. She was rather stern about sticking to a schedule when Harry might otherwise have wandered outside with Ron for a spot of snowball flinging. Just to be able to fill in the gaps in his notes by taking from hers was a huge help. Under her tutelage, he might actually have a chance of getting high marks on his tests.

Ron became far more amenable to Harry and Hermione's relationship when it came to him desperately needing Hermione's help in cramming for the upcoming tests. Perhaps because Ron's acceptance meant a great deal to both Harry and Hermione, Hermione was only too willing to help Ron out, what with him coming around so well to her and Harry's couple status and all. She even kept her scolding at his pithy notes to a minimum. Ron commented on Harry having a good effect on her.

Ron had even gone so far as to use Harry and Hermione's relationship to his advantage. On more than one occasion, when Hermione was studying Arithmancy when Ron desperately needed Hermione's help in another subject and had brushed off his entreaties, Ron would appeal to Harry for help. It hadn't happened too many times, because usually Hermione was willing of her own volition, but she did have her own classes to worry about. That's when Ron turned to Harry. Because it was such a positive validation of being Hermione's boyfriend, Harry typically relented. He would go over to Hermione, maybe slip his arm around her or kiss her on the temple, ask very nicely if she would help him and Ron out for a bit, and it never failed. Hermione would put aside her Arithmancy for a time and turn to helping Ron and Harry with their subjects.

Ron's appreciation of Hermione was less than glowing that particular Monday morning, however. Hermione had had both him and Harry ensconced in the library all weekend working on History of Magic and Potions, the two subjects Ron hated most. That morning alone she'd rushed the both of them through breakfast so they could get in a bit more studying before Potions first period. Ron wasn't daft enough to lay into Hermione for that too much, because he still needed her help, but he did a fair amount of grumbling and mumbling about almost forgetting what their other classmates looked like. Hermione invited him to leave any time he liked, but Ron took piss-poor notes and he knew it. He'd scowl and fidget but bend down to pour over their collective notes, that is to say, Hermione's notes.

They were sitting together in Defense Against the Dark Arts waiting for Moody to arrive. Ron had glommed on to Seamus nearly the moment they arrived, for the simple pleasure of talking to someone who wouldn't quiz him about History of Magic. Hermione was sidled up close to Harry, her textbook open for both of them to read. She was leaning toward him while Harry had one elbow propped on the table, his head perched atop his palm. Hermione was intent on the page, her face furrowed in concentration, her mouth shut tightly. Harry knew it was to stop herself from letting her lips mouth the really important points she was trying to hammer into her brain. Personally, he was catching about every fifth word on the page. It was not really worth the effort to study in the scant minutes between classes in his mind, but that didn't mean he was opposed to having Hermione slide her book over for them to share, or her shifting in close to him, or the chance to steal glances at her when she was too focused on her reading to notice.

Harry reached out discreetly with his free hand, pinched her robe, and gave it a small tug, the whole time watching her face. It was a game of sorts, a cause and effect reaction that Harry had discovered in their plethora of study sessions. Hermione's eyes did not slow in their rate of word consumption, but the furrow on her brow vanished for a moment and her tight lips twitched in a smile. Harry smirked and tugged again. Without looking away from her book, Hermione reached down, took his hand, and physically moved it over to his thigh in an unspoken demand to stop pestering her… only once she'd moved his hand she didn't pull hers back.

"Harry, Hermione!" Ron said in an urgent stage-whisper as he turned to them from talking with Seamus. Hermione looked up from her book at that and Harry looked past his girlfriend to notice the expression on Ron's face. Kind of a mix between shocked and worried.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, her tone indicating that she'd noticed the same details of Ron's look.

But before Ron could answer, the classroom door opened and the professor strode in… except it wasn't Moody, it was Snape.

Harry sat up immediately. Hermione jerked her hand from Harry's lap and frowned furiously at the Potions teacher as he marched his way to the front of the classroom. Dead silence had fallen over the students.

Snape turned to the quiet class. Without preamble, he said, "I'm your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher as of now, and will be for an indeterminate amount of time.

"I've no doubt you are sorely lacking in several keys points of Defense Against the Dark Arts. There's hardly time to do anything about your upcoming midterm, but I'll do the part of damage control as best I can. I'm told failing an exam can build character, though were that true most of you would be characters enough from my Potions class. Here's to hoping you're not as lack-witted in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"Open your books to chapter thirty-six."

The class seemed divided between two reactions. Half did as they were told, as though on autopilot to obey Snape's bark. The others were looking at Snape, still puzzling over his appearance in their Defense class.

Harry was one of the latter. Hermione's hand shot up.

Snape sighed in exasperated disgust. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Professor, where's Professor Moody?"

"That's hardly your concern, now is it? Though I shouldn't be surprised you'd think yourself entitled to an explanation. You're rather meddlesome in that respect, if I recall the whole Remus Lupin incident correctly. If I were you, I'd concentrate on the midterm and keep out of your teachers' business."

Hermione shut her mouth and Harry could see her jaw clenched tightly, angry but wiser than to go toe to toe with Snape over something so trite. Harry didn't feel nearly as acquiescent. He scowled at Snape. The greasy-haired professor glanced at Harry, narrowed his eyes, and without taking his eyes off Harry he picked up a Defense book. Harry leveled an unblinking stare at the teacher, a hunter's stare, riled that Snape would be so rude to Hermione. As far as he was concerned, no one should get away with that.

Snape sneered. "Must I assign you detention from now to the start of Christmas holiday, Mister Potter?"

Hermione elbowed him in the ribs and Harry's fixed stare broke and he looked away. "No, sir."

"Then open your book to chapter thirty-six," with a glance at the book Harry and Hermione had been sharing before the start of class, he added, "your ownbook."

Hermione quickly pulled her book back into her own spot while Harry withdrew his Defense book from his bag.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was grueling that day, not for the difficulty of the subject matter, but for the intractability of the teacher. A good number of students would leave the lesson with a heightened fear of Snape, as well. Moody knew the Dark Arts so well because he'd been a dark wizard hunter. Snape knew it so well for very different, and very frightening, reasons. Content-wise, lessons from Moody and Snape were very similar, but the flavor of the approach was much blacker with Snape. Neville was liable to have nightmares that night.

When class was over, before Harry or Ron had finished putting away their books, Hermione was up and in a fervor. "Hurry up, you two."

Ron looked about, puzzled. "What for?"

Hermione huffed. "To catch Dumbledore before lunch; don't you want to know why Moody didn't show up for class?"

Harry did want to know. He stuffed his things in his bag and stood.

"Maybe he's just got a touch of the flu," Ron reasoned.

"Honestly," Hermione replied, "Alastor Moody lost a leg and an eye and it didn't stop him hunting down dark wizards. You think the flu would be enough to stop him from teaching a room full of harmless students?"

Whether Ron agreed with their plan or not, he'd habitually gathered his things and moved to go with them anyway. "Hey, we're not all that harmless, you know."

The three of them were walking briskly through the corridors toward the Great Hall, Hermione in the middle. Hermione cast Ron a dubious look at his remark. "I wouldn't say you're particularly intimidating, Ron."

Ron snorted. "I was talking about Harry."

Harry had only been half-listening to their bickering, but at that he blinked. "Huh? Wait, is someone saying I'm dangerous?" Only once he'd said it did he realize it was a dumb question. There were students who'd pegged him as on the cusp of going dark since second year when he talked to a snake.

"Oh, course not, anyone could have escaped You Know Who… twice," Ron said sarcastically.

Harry felt weary even remembering that night in the graveyard. Ron didn't notice the effect his words were having on his friend, but Hermione did. She stepped in closer to him and took his hand.

"And that whole window-busting thing you did was pretty scary," Ron said with a twinge of discomfiture indicating just how personally he related to that moment.

"Well, people are morons," Hermione said fiercely.

Harry squeezed her hand in gratitude.

They caught Dumbledore in the hallway on his way toward the Great Hall. When he saw them coming he tried to muster a smile, but there was something grim in his expression that resisted such a merry gesture.

"Headmaster," Hermione said the moment they were upon the old wizard, not even allowing for any kind of cordial greetings, "Moody wasn't in Defense Against the Dark Arts today."

"Yes, I know," Dumbledore said in a low voice.

"And that gi… I mean, Professor Snape wouldn't tell us where he'd gone," Ron added sourly.

Dumbledore sighed. "Well, I might expect you three to be on the trail of that mystery." He glanced around at the other students in the hallway and made a decision. "Come with me, we'll discuss this in my office."

Harry, Hermione, and Ron followed after the headmaster as he made his way back to his tower office. The press of students thinned as they near the headmaster's keep, and their noises all but faded completely as they ascended the spiraling staircase. Once they'd all filed inside the office and Dumbledore shut the door the headmaster pulled out his wand and conjured a small picnic table laden with sandwiches and drinks. "May as well have a bite of lunch," Dumbledore said as he tucked away his wand. "Do sit down."

Ron didn't have to be asked twice. He was already helping himself to a sandwich when Dumbledore sat down with them. Hermione paid the food no mind. "Sir, what's happened to Professor Moody?"

"I wish I knew," Dumbledore answered. "The ministry contacted me on Saturday regarding a… well, let's call it a preventative action against Voldemort." Ron nearly choked on the name and put the rest of his sandwich down. "They requested Alastor's assistance in the operation. He is still a valuable asset where it concerns battling the dark arts and those who wield it. Don't let his position here as a teacher lead you to believe his Auror skills are at all diminished.

"It wasn't really a question of Professor Moody going. We are all doing whatever we can, all that is asked of us, in this renewed threat from an old foe. We anticipated Professor Moody's return before classes resumed on Monday. Obviously, that did not occur."

"What mission was he on?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore hesitated. "It was aimed at one of Voldemort's most influential Death Eaters. The ministry believed they could catch this particular individual in the act of recruiting young wizards from Durmstrang to Voldemort's ranks. If he could have been caught openly aiding the dark wizard, he could have been locked up in Azkaban and his resources no longer at the dark lord's disposal. Right now, with Voldemort staying low to the ground, our most deadly strikes are at those Death Eaters who can work in the open to clear the way for his return to power. A great portion of which is contingent upon him securing a sufficient force of followers to challenge the ministry's might."

"Which Death Eater was it?"

Dumbledore's lips tightened. "I must not say, Harry. There are students here who cannot help who they are related to; they should not be punished for the sins of the father."

"Malfoy," Harry said at once.

"I won't say," Dumbledore said, but Harry was sure.

"Has there been no word from him? Professor Moody?" Hermione asked in genuine concern.

"Alas, no." Dumbledore stroked at his beard. "It's still not clear what happened at Durmstrang. Those who did make it out of the conflagration, and those were few enough, appear to have been obliviated. They're in Saint Mungo's at this moment, but whether anything useful can be recovered from their wiped memories is still unclear. We suspect Moody was taken alive, surely Voldemort would know an Auror could possess useful information."

Harry remembered his nightmare, the Auror he'd seen die at the point of Voldemort's wand.

"And an Auror who had been teaching at Hogwarts only days prior… it would present unique access to… unusual facts."

'Like about me,' Harry thought, his stomach a stone.

Hermione was chewing on her bottom lip in furious thought. "Headmaster… what if that was the whole point? I mean, taking Moody?"

Dumbledore chuckled a little, but it was dry and thin. "At times I think even I do not give you enough credit for how clever you are, Miss Granger. I've wondered the same thing, in retrospect.

"A few of those who went to apprehend the Death Eater in question were found slain, others were found with no memories, and others, like Moody, were simply missing. Moody, clearly, had been taken. But maybe not all of the ministry officials that disappeared did so against their will. Most Death Eaters take the tattoo, the Dark Mark, but Voldemort is wise enough to know that refraining in some instances would be to his advantage.

"It was believed that all of those who went to Durmstrang were proven loyal to our side, but we can't know that for certain."

"A trap for Moody," Harry mused, ill at the thought.

Dumbledore nodded sadly. "There is no proof of that, but in hindsight I have wondered."

Harry thought of the Auror in his dream, on his knees, hands mangled, arms broken, defiant to the last. "Moody won't tell him anything," he said with sudden certainty. Moody would not be an Auror to break, Harry just knew it.

"No, he won't. They come no stronger than Alastor Moody. But that is both good news and bad news."

"When he realizes Moody won't give him what he wants, Voldemort will kill him," Harry provided heavily.

Dumbledore's somber silence was confirmation enough.

"Is anything being done to try and find him?" Hermione asked, voice tight.

"All that can be done, but unfortunately all that can be done may not be nearly enough to save Alastor. We would have to find Voldemort to find Moody, and that is more easily said than done."

"Is there anything we can do?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore looked sharply at Harry. "I don't want you trying to play the hero in this, Harry, it will only play to Voldemort's hand. Is that understood?"

"But, sir…"

Dumbledore placed his hand on Harry's shoulder and looked him straight in the eye. "Listen to me, Harry. There are more people than you know doing everything in their power to protect you. You are a symbol to them that this dark wizard can be defeated, for a child did it once. They need that. I implore you, don't besmirch their efforts by doing something rash and getting yourself killed."

Hermione gasped at the bluntness of the headmaster's words… and at the suggestion of Harry dying.

"But they're in danger for me!" Harry retorted indignantly.

"And you are a fifth year student in a magic school. I believe the muggle term is 'in over your head', is it not?"

Harry was incensed. How could Dumbledore pull that on him, when he'd confronted Voldemort twice in the flesh, even more if one counted Quirrell his first year and Tom Riddle's manifestation in his second?

"You have a gift for combat, Harry, I won't deny that, and I know some day you will be a great force for good in the wizarding world. But that day is not today." Dumbledore suddenly looked his age as he said, "The first time Voldemort terrorized the wizarding world it was eleven years before you stopped him… it may be you will still have to fight him one day. But not now, if I have any strength in me it won't be now."

Harry was struck mute by the passion in Dumbledore's voice. This wasn't Headmaster Dumbledore or even kindly old Albus Dumbledore. This was different. This made Harry's heart constrict and his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth. There was a Sirius kind of sound to the headmaster's words.

In a blink it was gone, replaced again by kindly Dumbledore, and he removed his hand from Harry's shoulder and looked forlornly at the sandwiches. "Well, I daresay this talk of Voldemort has spoiled my appetite. Oh well, could do to miss a few meals anyway, my paragliding harness was getting a bit snug. Delightful muggle hobby. And I believe you three have class in ten minutes."

With silent nods the three students left the headmaster's office, sullen for the visit.

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