Chapter 3: Affliction
13 September 1994
Slytherin Boy's Dormitory
Before Dawn
Astoria Greengrass was compromised.
An agent skilled in the Mind Arts had left traces of psychic surgery in Astoria's mind. I dwelled on it for hours. What had I missed? What had I allowed into the castle, into the dungeons, among my friends?
I had shared nothing with them. With this discovery, a necessary wall had been raised between myself and everyone else. I played the part of a disinterested leader, as though I had investigated Daphne's request, found no real issue, and put it on the shelf for monitoring and future assessment. My behaviour frustrated Daphne to no end, and our conversations lacked the ease and warmth I treasured. It hurt me to push her away, however indirectly, but until I knew the depth of Astoria's mental subversion, I couldn't risk alerting the agent that I was onto them.
I laid awake through the night, plagued by worst-case scenarios. At some point, I dug out the little notebook Daphne had given me almost a week ago. With nothing but my lit wand and my mind, I examined every inch of the timeline of events in Astoria's life. Some of the minutia was disgusting, such was Daphne's determination not to leave anything out if it might help her sister, but I took every fact, every detail, and passed them through a sieve in my mind, picking them apart for possible vulnerabilities.
I found something.
Greengrass Manor had top-of-the-line wards. I knew because I had been there myself during the holidays. I had spent hours wracking my brain to find a way someone could compromise Astoria while she was at home. But just before her reticent behaviour began, she spent three hours away from home. Three hours sitting alongside Daphne and their father, Nathanael Greengrass, at a Wizengamot meeting.
Daphne had noted that it was long and boring. She noted that her father didn't have dinner that evening and seemed distracted. She noted that Astoria had a headache that day.
That was it.
I couldn't say why with anything approaching reliable proof, but I knew in my gut that whoever went inside Astoria's mind did so at the Wizengamot meeting, or while they were at the Ministry.
I slipped out of my bed and padded over to kneel beside Theo. Blaise slept on my other side, so I tried not to wake him. It had already become awkward living so closely with him after our discussion yesterday.
Theo woke easily. I was so wound-up he could probably sense it in his sleep.
"Harry?" he whispered, moving his face close to mine. I put my hands on his shoulders to keep him at a more respectable distance, but not before I accidentally caught a few of his surface thoughts. I felt distinctly uncomfortable. There were some things I didn't need to know regarding Theo's feelings towards me, not the least because I couldn't reciprocate them.
After a few seconds of bleary-eyed blinking, Theo woke up properly. He pulled out of my grasp and sat up. "What is it?" he asked quietly.
"Did you attend a Wizengamot meeting over the holidays?" I asked.
Theo frowned. "Yes, because Daphne was attending one. We found some time to catch up during the refreshments period afterwards."
"Did you see Astoria there as well?"
"Of course, but she mostly stayed with their father."
"I need to review your memories of that meeting."
Theo swung his feet over the side of his bed. "Alright." His dark hair was lank and messy, hanging over his eyes like a shield against the light of my wand. I hesitated, then gently brushed his fringe out of his face. He smiled coyly at me, tilting his head. It might seem manipulative to play on his feelings like that, but Theo was an empath. He understood what was meant by the gesture, and, more importantly, what was not.
Guided by wand light, we found Draco's bed and woke him. Unlike Theo, Draco seemed to sleep quite deeply. We only just revived him enough to get a 'yes' when I asked if I could use his Pensieve before he dropped back into his slumber.
I tore open Draco's trunk with a pulse of my mind and quickly found his Pensieve in the magically enlarged space within. Theo accompanied me as I took it to my bed and closed the curtains around us. We sat cross-legged on the sheets as I watched him work himself into a meditative state so as to better recall the details of that day. With a long, slow wand movement, Theo drew the memory from his mind and deposited it in the swirling silver of the Pensieve.
"Do you want me to stay out here?" Theo whispered.
"No. I might need to ask you something."
Simultaneously, we dipped our fingers into the Pensieve.
The Wizengamot curled around us, lacquered wooden benches layered in an amphitheatre pattern. At the bottom, in full sight, were the benches belonging to the Chief Warlock and other high-ranking members. Members in plum-coloured robes were only just shuffling in through the doorways on either side of the chamber.
"What happened before this?" I asked Theo.
He shrugged. "Nothing. My father and I arrived only seconds ago, and the Greengrasses arrived a moment after us. Most of the representatives of higher standing arrive just as the meeting is about to begin. I think it's a power-play sort of thing – you imply that the meeting literally doesn't start until you have arrived."
"Fashionably punctual," I murmured. Theo laughed.
The moment Astoria appeared in the doorway, I shadowed her, scanning the faces of the people she passed, watching for the slightest sign of malice. Theo watched me curiously.
"I might be able to help if I know what to look for," he suggested carefully.
I bit my lip. If anyone else was compromised, telling Theo could be a serious security risk. But… I couldn't make myself lie to him. After cutting off Blaise and disappointing Daphne, I felt like I was burning through trust at an alarming rate.
"Someone did something to Astoria at this meeting," I said. "They would have needed to be close to her, and they would have needed time."
Theo led me through the half-full benches to an empty row. "This is where the Greengrasses end up sitting. If she was targeted on purpose, maybe you can –"
"Spot someone who waited to sit until she was already seated," I finished quickly. Theo nodded.
Astoria and her family took their places, and I hungrily surveyed the members that sat beside and behind them. I didn't recognise most of them.
"Names?" I said.
Theo began pointing them out. "Blake Girder, Madeline Mallan, Gerald Spencer – complete wanker, by the way – Matthew Bloodhound – not as cool as he sounds, trust me – Kathleen Ellis, Bartemius Crouch, Mirin Boot –"
"Crouch!" I exclaimed, following Theo's gesture. Damn him, Crouch was sitting two levels above the Greengrass family, staring directly down at Astoria, who was already complaining of a headache.
"He has a son, doesn't he?" I said urgently.
"Yeah, a Death Eater. He died in Azkaban a little while back," Theo confirmed.
Except he didn't. The Unspeakables were far too late in their investigation. The older Crouch had been compromised before the start of term, before the World Cup. Most likely, Crouch Junior had broken free from whatever binding his father used to keep him in line after helping him escape from prison, and immediately put his father under the Imperius Curse in order to maintain appearances. But just for today, Junior had needed to be present in person, and so Polyjuice Potion was likely in use.
"What did you do to her, you son of a bitch?" I whispered, staring into Crouch 'Senior's' eyes.
"Harry?" Theo asked worriedly.
I didn't reply. Instead, I sped up the memory, letting the three hours slip by in less than a minute. In all that time, Crouch never took his eyes off Astoria. There was a lot that could be done by a skilled, powerful user of the Mind Arts with three hours of focus. With that much time, it was no wonder nobody else noticed – he would have been able to mask everything. Even I had rarely spent so long on a single mental task. What nefarious corruption did he plant in Astoria's head?
Suddenly, the benches cleared, and I brought the memory back to normal speed.
"Where does the refreshment period take place?" I asked.
Theo led the way once more, taking me to a warmer, friendlier-looking room with thick rugs and tables stocked with food and drink, very little of which was going to waste.
I spotted Astoria beside her father, speaking to – goddamn it, speaking to Crouch!
Vaguely, I noticed Theo and Daphne greeting each other with a hug and having a chat over some butterbeer nearby. I was so highly strung that I actually sensed Theo, the real Theo, consider making a joke about how he was secretly going to steal Daphne from me, before he decided I was too focused to interrupt. Being inside a memory was too similar to being inside Graham Stone's mindscape – the Mind Arts were stronger here, less filtered by the physical world.
To my dismay, Crouch and Nathanael Greengrass were behind a privacy charm, one that excluded Astoria, who was watching the two adults with irritation. Their lips were impossible to read; neither man was emotive enough and they were clearly trying to maintain unbothered expressions.
Crouch nodded towards someone across the room, and both Greengrass and I followed the gesture to a beautiful dark-skinned woman who somehow made Wizengamot robes look good.
"Sabrina Zabini," Theo whispered, though I'd already made the family connection.
It was the eyes again, you see.
I turned back to the men and found the Greengrass patriarch turning pale. Crouch remained perfectly composed, as though they were discussing the weather. Astoria tugged at her father's sleeve, but rather than shake her off, he pulled her closer, holding her against his side in a protective manner.
"Crouch is threatening Astoria?" Theo said confusedly. "And it has something to do with Blaise's mother? Harry, what the heck is going on?"
"Later," I hissed. My Memory function was storing the entire encounter in case I needed to review it later. However, despite the obvious intensity of their conversation, nothing more happened between the two men, and Greengrass departed soon after their discussion ended. Daphne said goodbye to memory-Theo and followed her father and sister from the refreshment room.
"We're done here," I said, pulling us out.
It was always a little disorientating emerging from a Pensieve, but we were sitting on my bed so there was a limit to how bad a fall could be. We just rocked a little in place as we hit the mattress, and Theo put a hand out to steady himself.
I summoned a vial from my trunk and pulled Theo's memory out of the Pensieve.
"Do you mind if I keep this?" I asked.
"What's mine is yours," Theo replied with a shrug.
"This stays between us, Theo," I said seriously. "It's important."
He just nodded.
Dawn was finally upon us, coming as a greenish light through the dorm windows. I shooed Theo back to his bed so I could write a hasty letter.
Dear Lady Sabrina Zabini,
Please excuse me for the rushed nature of this letter. I need to discuss something of importance with you, in person, at your earliest convenience.
Kind Regards,
Harry Potter
I found it unlikely that she would be complicit with Crouch's scheme – whatever the hell that was – but she was relevant to my investigation nonetheless.
16 September 1994
To my dismay, my letter returned unopened three days after I sent it.
"Is she travelling, or something?" I murmured.
Draco snorted beside me at the Slytherin table. "If it returns unopened it means your letter was received and rejected," he said. Pansy tittered.
"Ah," I said. "You see, that's never happened to me before. It's always nice to hear from someone more experienced in such matters." Now Theo chuckled. I felt ashamed of how pleased I was to have him back me up despite how secretive and rude I was being lately.
Daphne didn't laugh, and neither did Tracey. They were as thick as thieves, and since I was wronging Daphne by apparently not putting enough effort into her sister's problem, that meant I was wronging both of them. Tracey hadn't graced me with her earnest, wide-eyed smile in almost a week. I was surprised to realise how much I missed that jolt of positivity in the morning.
I turned my failed letter over in my hands. How could I resolve this?
The obvious answer was met with immediate internal resistance. I couldn't just talk to Blaise about it now, it would be improper to demand his services after removing him from the group. I cursed myself incessantly. Why had I decided to put my foot down when I did? Couldn't I have waited even one more week? Even just a few days? No, I just had to be the decisive leader, cutting off a weak link in my team. What was wrong with me?
I scrawled 'URGENT' on the folded parchment, gave it back to my owl, a nondescript brown thing by the name of Jenny, and sent it off again.
22 September 1994
My classes barely held my attention as I waited for a response. Getting perfect scores was practically tedious at my level.
There was a false alarm a few days earlier when Uncle Padfoot sent me a letter about the mercenary attack on Hogsmeade and the Auror investigation that followed. Having exhausted their investigative techniques and found no new leads, and with the mercenary himself under the influence of multiple Unbreakable Vows, the investigation was at a standstill.
Sirius also thanked me for looking out for Jim and promised that none of the witness testimonies included Daphne. So, there was that.
"Harry," Blaise said quietly, startling me out of my thoughts as I followed my friends between classes. He wasn't meeting my eyes, and his posture as a whole was slumped as though trying to avoid notice. The sarcastic, dry, flamboyant friend I'd known for three years was absent.
"Blaise?" I replied stiffly.
"I don't know why you're sending letters to my mother, but she's not very happy with you at the moment. Might want to try some other time."
With that, he quickly walked away, as though it was painful to be in my presence for too long.
3 October 1994
Days slipped away.
I didn't know what was wrong with me. I felt like I was stuck in quicksand, unable to move forward, but forced to watch events unfold around me. There were no new updates from Kane, nothing from Sirius, no sign of Crouch Junior, and most painfully no response from Sabrina Zabini.
Astoria remained exhausted at all hours of the day. The Dreamless Sleep potions I recommended weren't working. Daphne now treated me as nothing more than an acquaintance due to my inaction. What could I do? Whatever Crouch had done to Astoria's mind, it was powerful and complex working. It may have even spread to other people, including Daphne herself. What if I explained what I knew and accidentally triggered a failsafe that resulted in Astoria getting killed? Who could I trust not to be under the working's aegis? Theo knew some, but not all of what was happening. Did I dare push it further?
No. No, I didn't dare take that risk. It was the most painful part of it all: they would be in danger if I trusted them.
30 October 1994
Slytherin Boy's Dormitory
I was being poisoned.
It was the day when students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were due to arrive any minute, but I was well away from the cheering Hogwarts students welcoming the visitors.
I had just showered and was sitting on my bed with my curtains drawn, meditating. Part of my routine included a self-check to make sure my recent actions were in keeping with my predilection towards rational thinking. It was one of the many ways I checked myself for compromise.
My mind felt clearer than usual. I hadn't gotten dressed yet, so there were no barriers between my skin and the air, which I found conducive to deep thinking (though I never did so when others were around). I performed my checks, and hit a snag.
Lethargy, I encountered with shock. Lack of will. Lack of motivation. Helplessness. Confusion.
It was a list of every unusual thing I'd felt over the past month. Alone, in small bursts, they would be normal. But this check was for every day. That wasn't normal, not by a long shot. Something was eroding my will.
I forced down my panic and fought to reclaim the calm of the meditative state. I pulsed my mind for toxins. None were found. I was about to move on to another avenue of analysis when an idea hit me. Instead of using my mind to perform the toxin check, I picked up my wand and did it magically.
There were traces of unknown toxic fibres in my lungs.
I ripped open the curtains on my bed and hurried to open my trunk. Sure enough, my brittle length of broken voidrope remained where I left it, lying alongside my clothes, shedding microscopic filaments that I had been wearing and inhaling for over a month. Despite the fact I had never noticed it before, I imagined that I could feel it all of a sudden: buzzing little deadzones in my body and mind like parasitic worms that fed while the host was oblivious to them.
I levitated the voidrope into a hastily-conjured airtight bag, then blasted my trunk with Cleaning Charms until I couldn't detect any more fibres. Then I cleaned my bed. Then the bathroom. Then the whole dormitory. I even got dressed and nuked the empty common room with hygiene spells to make sure I didn't miss any.
Voidrope had turned out to be a more pervasive and dangerous material than I had imagined. It was inside me, blocking thought pathways and interfering with my very sense of self. No wonder I had been so inactive.
While I knew many medical spells, I needed a second person, a professional, to remove the last traces of voidrope from my body. I made my way to the Hospital Wing, listening to the distant roar of the crowds outside. I peeked through Theo's eyes and saw an elegant powder-blue carriage arrive, sweeping over the Forbidden Forest as it was pulled by powerful Abraxans.
It was difficult seeing through Theo while walking through Hogwarts without tripping over, but it was doable. I sensed his awareness of the fact I was visually eavesdropping, but there was no annoyance or anger at my intrusion. Theo was too receptive to me for his own good.
"All good?" he whispered under his breath. He was standing with my friends – including Blaise, since I wasn't present to say otherwise and Daphne, my second-in-command, wasn't particularly interested in my opinions lately – as they clapped politely for the arriving French students.
+Just checking up on you,+ I responded. I sensed him smile.
I withdrew from Theo's head and entered the Hospital Wing. There was an enchanted bell outside Madam Pomfrey's office that would alert her if someone needed aid and she wasn't present. I pressed it and waited.
The Healer arrived two minutes later, looking a bit put-out at being forced to miss the arrival of the Durmstrang contingent. It really wasn't fair on her, since I did get to see it through Theo.
"Are you certain this couldn't have waited, Potter?" she asked briskly upon noticing me standing there, apparently fine.
"I have toxic microscopic fibres in my lungs," I said without preamble. "I need them purged."
Madam Pomfrey frowned and began casting diagnostic spells of a greater depth and complexity than the ones I had used. After a minute, she lowered her wand and gestured to a bed.
"Lie down," she ordered. I did so. I watched her gather tools and potions from her office and bring them to my bedside. "I don't know how this happened, but I've never encountered a substance like this before. Its properties are unlike anything I've had the displeasure of removing from a body."
"It's called voidrope," I said, because only an idiot would keep a secret from a Healer trying to help them. "It has Mind Arts nullification properties. I kept it in my trunk for later examination, but it contaminated my clothes."
Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips. "I see. Thank you for telling me, Potter. I won't ask how you obtained it in the first place."
"I appreciate that, ma'am."
After a few more spells, she sighed. "The good news is that it hasn't really harmed you, physically speaking. But if you were a practitioner of the Mind Arts, I imagine it would subtly interfere with your thought processes, possibly making you think slower or even fail to form certain thoughts entirely. Have you noticed anything like that?"
"Yes," I said shortly. "What's the bad news?"
"It's going to be painful getting it out," she said bluntly.
"What does it entail?"
"You're going to need to inhale a potion."
I stared up at her. "Did I hear that correctly?"
"Yes. You must essentially drown in this potion in order for it to reach all the fibres. You will still be able to breath since the potion is oxygen-rich, but it will not feel like breathing. You may think you are dying."
I took a moment to consider this. "It needs to come out," I said.
Madam Pomfrey nodded, a flash of sympathy crossing her stern expression. "Do you need time to prepare?"
I swallowed. My hands were trembling slightly. "I'm… going to put myself into a more pliant state. I'll be entirely within your hands."
"It shouldn't take more than twenty minutes," she said quietly, putting a hand on my shoulder.
How hilarious. After refusing to trust my friends with the details of the many plots I was involved in, I was now forced to trust someone who, while not an enemy, couldn't be called a close confidant. I planned to retreat into my Backup function until it was over to prevent my power lashing out and injuring or killing someone. I would be dead to the world, alone except for my other functions.
"I will emerge at twenty-five minutes," I said. Madam Pomfrey nodded, then surprised me by placing a motherly peck on my forehead, the first time I had ever received such. I must have looked even more terrified than I felt.
I laid back on the bed and cleared my mind. I shut off my ability to sense my body while remaining inside it, and sunk down, down, down into my robust Occlumency framework, where my functions dwelled. My Backup function beckoned, a precise copy of Potter Manor and the surrounding estate, and I hurried inside and locked the door. Through the window in my bedroom upstairs, I looked out at the rest of the function with growing unease.
The nearby mountain and its many rivulets that led down to the lake beside the manor was stark and black against the white sky. Distant rains swept its peak, making the smooth dark rock glint. The mountain range it belonged to was already consumed by a hurricane the likes of which I had never seen in reality.
I clutched the window sill tightly as the rumble of thunder reached me, though I saw no lightning. The sky was turning blue, but not like that of a clear day. It seemed to roil and break as though I was standing on the bottom of the sea, staring up at the surface.
A colossal wave roared around the mountain, an unending tide that spread across the rocky plains without losing momentum. I braced myself as it rushed down the slope towards the manor, snapping trees off at the trunks.
With a bang like the world had split in half, the wave smashed into the manor at full speed. The walls held, but I saw a crack in the window. I put my hands over the crack in a childish gesture of denial. I didn't want to know what was going on upstairs. I didn't want to feel what the wave represented.
I checked my internal clock. Twenty-four and a half minutes to go.
Madam Pomfrey steeled her nerves as Harry stiffened and thrashed on the bed. She'd tied his hands and feet down before beginning the procedure, and it was a good thing she had. It pained her on the most primal level to see a child in such agony, even if he couldn't feel it. She owed it to Harry, to every patient, to finish her work quickly but properly.
With her wand, Madam Pomfrey guided the potion in Harry's lungs, plucking bits of fibre and gathering them together. They would be a horrifying discovery for anyone to make, but especially so for him.
She knew about Harry because she had been the only one Sirius trusted to care for the twins when they were ill as they grew up. She kept her tongue as all Healers should, and she doubted the boy knew she was aware of his abilities.
But these fibres… of voidrope, he said? If they really did nullify the Mind Arts, which were so ingrained into the boy you could hardly have one without the other, then the filaments must have affected him seriously but subtly, interfering with his judgement in ways he would not notice, like an Imperius Curse with no caster.
Madam Pomfrey put such thoughts aside for later. What was important was clearing Harry's body so that his mind could be clear as well.
I emerged coughing from my Backup function. Each spasm was painful, each breath was dry and hoarse. My chest felt like it was burning, and pained tears rolled down my cheeks. Madam Pomfrey was at my side making soothing noises, but there appeared to be no solution except to wait for the pain to pass.
I don't know how long it took, maybe a few minutes or maybe up to an hour, but I eventually inhaled without wincing in pain. There were parts of my mind, little flecks of nothing, that I was suddenly aware of again. Pathways that had inexplicably ceased to function now returned to full capacity.
I felt awake again.
31 October 1994
Early Morning
There was much to do.
With my body free of toxic fibres, my mind was free and whole once more. I gathered my friends, minus Blaise, in our corner of the common room before breakfast. Now that I was thinking clearly, I saw how ridiculous my supposition of an infectious Mind Arts working was. The idea that whatever Crouch Junior had implanted in Astoria's mind was naturally transferrable to other people – especially people with Protection functions like Daphne, Draco, and Theo – was laughable.
"You may have noticed I've been a bit off over the past month," I said softly, addressing my silent crew. "A bit quieter than usual. A bit… ineffective."
Daphne nodded coldly, though her eyes were curious. Theo and Tracey nodded too, while Crabbe and Goyle looked confused. They were always a little detached from the group due to their firm partnership, so I didn't blame them for not noticing anything. Draco, on the other hand wore the most delightful expression of annoyance as he realised I had been vulnerable for over a month and he had done nothing to reclaim his position as leader.
"You all remember the mercenary situation at Hogsmeade near the beginning of term?" I asked. They nodded. "I had Daphne retrieve something from the mercenary's body, something that I didn't realise was quite poisonous. It slowed my thinking and altered my ability to assess things objectively. Yesterday, as the foreign schools arrived, I identified, contained, and removed the poison from my body. I am, as they say, back."
Theo chuckled and Tracey let out a little giggle, forgetting for a moment that she was supposed to be echoing Daphne. But even my second-in-command seemed to be lowering her icy walls once more, giving me a very direct look that said, among other things, 'Prove it.' Draco grunted in acknowledgement and trudged away, mourning the missed opportunity. Pansy flounced in his wake, eager to share in his dejection. I still didn't get them.
I was left with Theo, Daphne, and Tracey.
"I should have noticed something," Theo was muttering. "Your emotions had been all over the place. I should have encouraged you to do a more thorough compromise check."
"It was my fault for being so careless," I corrected him. "Don't waste any more thought on it, Theo."
Daphne cleared her throat. "And?"
I stepped forward and placed my hands on her shoulders. She raised her chin, unsmiling, but didn't pull away. "Astoria has been compromised," I said. "Psychic surgery was performed on her during the Wizengamot meeting you went to over the holidays. I firmly believe it is the source of her exhaustion and aversion to Occlumency. Whatever was done to her, it is using her up."
Daphne's composure was second to none, but I didn't miss the way her nostrils flared as her breathing accelerated, nor the way her pupils contracted in fear for her sister. I squeezed her shoulders and let go.
"Solution," she said crisply.
"My next lead requires an audience with Lady Zabini," I said. "It's vital."
Tracey perked up, her blue eyes shining with mischief. "We know where Blaise lives, don't we? Why don't we ditch tomorrow and just go there?"
"We could just ask Blaise to help," Theo said very quietly, his eyes darting over to me to check my reaction.
"Blaise might be compromised too, just in a different way," I said, though I was beginning to very much regret my hastiness in dismissing him. "It will be better if we don't involve him."
They seemed slightly alarmed by my announcement, and I realised I hadn't actually explained to them why Blaise was kicked out of our group. So much mistrust, even before the voidrope filaments began affecting me. I had some work to do.
"I don't want to wait for him to exchange letters with his mother anyway," said Daphne, turning her head to watch Astoria enter the common room, looking even more haggard than usual. Daphne clenched her fists by her side. "I don't want to leave her while she's like this."
"Theo, Draco, and I will visit Lady Zabini tomorrow," I said. "You and Tracey stay here and watch Astoria. Don't involve Pansy or Crabbe and Goyle – they're auxiliaries, remember."
"No," said Daphne, shaking her head. "I don't want to be split up. "Let's take Astoria with us and only bring the core."
I wasn't really in a position to refuse her anything after the last month. "Alright, you, me, Theo, Draco, Tracey, and Astoria will visit Lady Zabini tomorrow, come hell or highwater."
They all nodded.
Breakfast involved a dramatic announcement. Everyone ooh'd and ahh'd at the Goblet of Fire, and even I had to admit it made quite a sight. I turned my attention to our newcomers: the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students. Viktor Krum stood out easily among the former, and luck would have it he ended up sitting fairly close to my group, and we began to mingle.
I watched with amusement as Daphne prepared herself for the inevitable onslaught of compliments, only to be almost completely ignored in favour of Tracey. The Durmstrang boys seemed fascinated by Tracey's chirpiness, apparently having had their fill of aloof princesses back home. Tracey actually blushed when one boy described her as 'pretty leetle bird, fluttering'.
Daphne was out of her element playing as wingman to Tracey, and when she caught me smiling she gave me a look that said very clearly, "Use this as ammunition at your own risk."
Krum ended up near me, apparently by choice from the way his body language suggested a desire for conversation. Theo, ever aware of the feelings of those around him, tactfully asked me to switch seats with him so he could speak to Draco. I complied, which put me right next to Krum and finally allowed the older boy the opportunity he had been looking for.
"My sympathies on your loss at the World Cup," I said with a small smile. "I confess I was distracted at the time, but I'm told you flew brilliantly."
Krum inclined his head by a fraction. He, like many of the Durmstrang boys, possessed a calm and reserved demeanour. "I am glad you vere not paying closer attention to the match," he rumbled in a deep voice. "Else my father vould not be alive."
I looked at him properly. His gaze was very direct, though his tone was quiet.
"You must have me confused with my brother," I chuckled.
"Your brother eez impressive," Krum nodded slowly, "But he did not see what vos happening until it was almost done. My father was in the Top Box. He allowed me to see his memory of the disaster." Krum's lips twitched in something approaching a smile. "He was the one who told you to sit down when you began searching for the cause of the trouble."
I remembered, despite the fact I had ignored him at the time. "I see."
"The hero of the day didn't react until you looked at him," said Krum, his eyes intense. "And my father remembers the mental energies in the air that day. I believe that as soon as you realised you couldn't stop the wreckage yourself, you influenced your brother into doing it for you."
"How many people share that theory?" I asked mildly.
"It has not gone beyond my father and I."
Theo knocked his leg against mine once, the signal that Krum was telling the truth. Having an empath as a friend never stopped being useful. Despite the fact that Krum and I were speaking very quietly, Theo could probably discern from our emotions alone when a question had been asked and the nature of the answer given.
"What is the point of bringing such a theory to me?" I asked, sipping some water.
Krum's dark eyes were clouded in confusion for a moment. "To thank you," he said, as though it was obvious. "The spotlight might shine on your brother, but my father lives because of you."
"That's all?"
Krum's expression darkened. "That eez a great deal," he said shortly.
I realised he had misunderstood me. "I mean no disrespect," I said, meeting his gaze calmly. "I am not making light of the Disaster or its resolution. But I am wary by nature, and when someone comes to me with secrets, it is usually because they want something."
In an instant, Krum's face cleared and understanding dawned behind his eyes. "No," he assured me. "I, and my father, want only for you to know you are velcome in our home, if you are ever in the region."
My heart warmed by a few degrees. "Thank you," I said, allowing a small smile to grace my lips.
Fancy that. A person who had discovered a dangerous secret and decided not to use it for their own gain. The cynic inside me muttered about how attempting to befriend someone as powerful as me under the guise of gratitude was very much about their own gain, but I decided to ignore it for once.
I didn't get to meet any of the Beauxbatons students, but then, I wasn't all that interested in them. Through some mild psychic pulses, like sonar, I was able to distinguish those talented with the Mind Arts among the visitors. Krum himself was surprisingly competent, though unlikely to have more than one function. I supposed the focus and determination required to succeed in Quidditch at such a high level while still so young meant he had a particular talent for control.
There was a little hiccup when I passed my mind over the French students. In among the ordinary, human psychic presences, there was a touch of inhumanity. Non-human minds always stuck out – I could sense the House Elves popping around the castle without much effort, and the goblins at Gringotts were nearly as distinct in their own way – but this oddity seemed to be mostly human with only the slightest difference.
"Look, she's got Harry too," Tracey giggled, turning aside from her admirers for a moment.
I blinked and realised I had been staring at a very attractive French girl at the end of the Ravenclaw table, surrounded by admirers. Her hair was blonde, her fair features striking, and her psychic presence oozed into the minds of those who gaze upon her. The effect appeared to be inherent, but I detected a level of control over her… allure that was quite conscious. I would have been alarmed if the allure hadn't been surface-level only. In a serious situation, people would break free immediately, and anyone with even basic training in the Mind Arts would be utterly unaffected.
Daphne scoffed. "The Veela at the World Cup didn't bother him, but one French girl does?"
"I'm not bothered," I said archly, giving them both stern looks. "But she is not entirely human. It's hard not to notice something like that."
Krum followed my gaze. "That is Fleur Delacour," he said appreciatively. "She is a quarter-Veela."
"Half-breed," Draco muttered loudly. Theo flicked his ear, inciting a glare.
"Can she transform?" I wondered aloud, ignoring the miniature scuffle developing beside me.
"No," Krum shook his head. "But from what I have heard, that does not make her less dangerous."
Like most students, we hovered around the Great Hall to watch people put their names in the Goblet. Classes were technically still on, but so many people were skipping out of excitement that there wasn't much the teachers could do to tempt students back into their classrooms.
Personally, I was keeping an eye out for my brother. I had a suspicion that he wouldn't be able to resist a chance to prove himself without my interference, and since I doubted he would listen to reason, I needed to be present to intervene when he finally made his play.
Tracey nudged my elbow. "Must be pretty happy to have made up with Daph, huh?" she whispered. The Durmstrang boys, including her admirers, had returned to their ship for the day once their prospective champions had put their names in.
We were sitting on the edge of the Ravenclaw table, only a few metres from the Goblet. My reputation and imposing friends meant nobody disagreed with our seating arrangement.
"Really, considering I was compromised, her anger was misplaced," I said reasonably.
"Right, but it must still feel nice being able to talk with her properly again," Tracey pressed.
"Of course. She's a very dear friend." I glanced at the girl in question, who was sitting on the opposite side of the table, surprisingly chatting with Crabbe while Goyle listened in. After her snubbing from the Durmstrang boys this morning, it seemed she wanted some easy targets to pretend not to glance at her chest. Unexpectedly cunning the two of them might be, but they were still boys.
Tracey rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean. Everyone knows you like checking her out."
"There's not a man on God's green earth that doesn't like checking her out," I informed her. "I've seen adult wizards, parents at King's Cross, stare directly into the sun rather than be tempted."
"Yeah, I've seen that too," Tracey chortled. "So when are you going to ask her out?"
I gave Tracey a flat look. She smiled back innocently. "We know you're going to," she added. "But you should probably get a move on."
I sighed. "Did she put you up to this? I would have thought romance would be the last thing on her mind, all things considered."
"No, but I've known Daph for years. You really hurt her by ignoring Astoria's problem for so long. Now that we're finally doing something about it, you might want to show a little… commitment, to make up for it."
"My very thoughts were being interfered with," I said defensively, and maybe a little hotly. "If it was frustrating for her, believe me, it was even more so for me." Tracey quietened down, and I immediately felt bad. Arguing against Tracey felt like shouting at a kitten. "However," I added, and she perked up again so quickly that it was obvious she had only pretended to be subdued. "There is a tradition involved in the Triwizard Tournament that I believe will serve as a more… appropriate time and location for that sort of thing."
Tracey's blue eyes sparkled. "The Yule Ball?" she murmured.
I tilted my head very slightly. Tracey almost began to vibrate, she was so excited. Only years of Slytherin composure kept her still. I had no doubt that she would pass along the details of our conversation to Daphne – hell, for all I knew, they reviewed all of my encounters with Daphne in a Pensieve in order to construct the best strategic approach.
"Don't get distracted," I said firmly. "We have a big day tomorrow, and I don't want anyone thinking about romance instead of focusing."
Tracey snapped off a salute. "I'll keep Daph in line, boss," she said.
"That goes for you too," I reminded her. "Don't think I missed how much you loved having the Durmstrang boys falling over themselves around you."
"Yeah, well…" she trailed off, looking a little guilty. "Sometimes it's nice to be the beautiful one," she murmured.
"Tracey," I said flatly. "You're gorgeous. Shut up."
She laughed, but I could sense her gratitude.
"Heads up," she whispered playfully.
I didn't even need to ask. My brother's psychic presence, while of unremarkable strength, was as familiar to me as Uncle Padfoot's. I turned and watched him approach.
"Can we talk?" Jim said over the din. He was lacking his robes since the Great Hall was warmed by the body heat of so many students. A scruffy, untucked shirt and loosened tie completed his (rather awkward, in my opinion, though heart-warming in the eyes of others) impersonation of our father.
I nodded and we went to the side of the room, away from the gossiping crowds. My friends took up inconspicuous positions nearby, keeping anyone from wandering too close. Despite that, I still put up a privacy charm that muffled the noise from the crowd.
"What can I do for you, Jim?" I said briskly.
"Who says I want you to do anything?" he replied, already on the defensive.
I rolled my eyes. "Because you hate talking to me, obviously. I annoy you."
"I only hate talking to you when you get all smug and Slytherin-y," Jim said irritably. "If you acted like a normal person, we'd probably get along."
"Normal in this case meaning 'like a Gryffindor', right?" I said with a small smile. Jim seemed to struggle to find the right words, so I made a calming gesture. "Jim, it's fine. I know I'm not the brother you wanted, but I'm not going to change who I am just so you can relive Dad's glory days. Besides, from what I hear, you and your friends manage to get into plenty of trouble without me."
"It's not – I don't want you to be different, I just – argh!" Jim threw up his hands. "Forget it. I came to ask you about something else, anyway."
"Go ahead."
"Do you know Granger? Hermione Granger, same year as us."
I nodded pensively. "I don't know her personally, but yes, I am aware of her." I was aware of her 'subtle' glances in my direction ever since that dreadful Hogsmeade weekend, at the very least.
Jim's mind followed a similar train of thought. "Well, she told me during the attack at Hogsmeade that she was probably the most powerful Mind Arts user in the school."
I shrugged. "It's natural for her to think that. I saw her psychic presence when I was searching Hogsmeade with my mind. She's very good for her age, but there are a couple of older students who are better. She's almost at the level where people start hiding their power out of common courtesy. I imagine most students who discover the Mind Arts on their own reach a point where they wonder if they are the strongest around." I smiled. "The answer, invariably, is no."
"So she's not close to your level?"
"Jim," I said, mildly affronted.
"Right," Jim said dryly. "How silly of me. Anyway, she suggested that I might want to look into Occo-something."
"Occlumency?" I said in surprise. "And you actually want to?"
Jim rolled his shoulders uncomfortably. "I guess I just want to understand it a bit better. I mean, it didn't seem to do her much good against that mercenary guy, but considering the kinds of things you can do with it… I just don't want to get taken off-guard again, and this stuff feels like a pretty big blind spot."
I feigned surprise. "Jim, are you feeling alright? You're behaving very rationally today."
He shoved my shoulder. "So are you going to tell me how Occlumency works, or are you going to be a smug prick?"
"I can do both," I replied with a swift grin. "Occlumency is a mental framework – a foundation upon which different modules can be installed. Those modules are called 'functions'. As you might have guessed, each function serves a different purpose."
Jim was already opening his mouth, and I caught his question in his surface thoughts.
My God, he doesn't know what 'module' means? Read a book, brother.
I sighed and reconsidered my approach. "Okay, imagine Occlumency as a Quidditch pitch. Each function is a different player. A Keeper's role is different to that of a Chaser, but they are both on the same pitch. When you need to stop someone from scoring a point against you, you would activate the Keeper. When you want to score a point against someone else, you would activate the Chaser. In practical terms, if you think someone is trying to get into your mind, you can activate what's called a 'Protection' function – the Keeper, I suppose – which obviously works to protect your mind from intrusion. That is what Occlumency 'shields' are: layers of the Protection function. As another example, lets say you need to memorise something important, like a name or date or even a whole conversation. If you have a Memory function, you can do it fairly easily, though it feels a bit weird. Following along so far?"
Jim's expression had darkened when I began my Quidditch analogy, but now he actually seemed enthused. "Yeah, I think so. So once you know Occlumency you can get as many different functions as you like, right?"
"Seven is the maximum, but it's not that simple. There's a reason people gifted in the Mind Arts are so rare. If you don't have an inborn knack for it, it can take an absurd amount of effort to make any progress. Occlumency is a framework, remember, like the foundations of a building. The stronger the foundations, the more floors the building can support. Strengthening one's Occlumency requires regular thought exercises, usually done before bed. I've been teaching my friends how to do this for years and only Daphne, Draco, and Theo are strong enough to manage a single function."
"Which did they choose?" Jim asked curiously.
"Protection, obviously. I created and implanted it in them myself."
"Hang on, created? Implanted?"
I tutted. "Ah, I forgot to mention that. Functions don't just appear out of nowhere when you reach a certain level of Occlumency. They are a collection of thought processes that someone has painstakingly collated into a transferrable package, usually for profit. Have you seen an extracted memory before? Functions look a lot like that. They can be poorly made or finely crafted depending on the artificer. A Protection function bought cheaply in Knockturn Alley might have vulnerabilities or even scraps of memories left over from the person who created it, while a professionally-made function would be clean, robust, and efficient."
"Like comparing a professional Quidditch player against an amateur, right?" said Jim.
I sighed and was about to insult him when I saw the humour in his eyes. I huffed a laugh. "Yes, basically."
"And what about implanting a function? That sounds… not fun."
"It falls within the purview of psychic surgery, so no, it's not fun. Essentially, I took the function I made and… put it in their minds. It's the only way to get functions if you can't make your own."
Jim shuddered. "You're a bit creepy, you know that?"
I scoffed. "Be honest, Jim. I'm terrifying."
"So what do you think my odds are for getting good enough at Occlumency to get a Protection function?"
I almost said something rude before catching myself. We were actually having a civil discussion for once and I was surprised by how much I was enjoying it. "Occlumency works best when the person trying to learn it is even-tempered and logical by nature. It's possible that, with enough effort, you can achieve the self-discipline necessary to form a usable mental foundation."
Jim sighed. "Not a chance in hell, then?"
I hesitated, then put my hand on his shoulder for a moment. "It's not impossible, but maybe not until after puberty. Uncle Padfoot always says Dad calmed down a lot once he was done with school."
Jim seemed surprised at the contact. "In the meantime," he coughed, "What am I supposed to do if someone starts messing with my mind?"
"You pray, for their sake, that I never find out."
After giving me a surprisingly embarrassed look, Jim awkwardly clapped me on the shoulder and wandered off to join his friends. I don't know what possessed me to be so kind considering our conversations were usually comparable to a pair of rival stags butting heads. Maybe there was still a bit of voidrope in my system making me crazy.
I kept watch all day, but Jim never approached the Goblet. I made a note of the handful of older students that did, and internally arranged a probability table regarding who was most likely going to be chosen. I couldn't possibly know what kind of algorithm the Goblet used to choose its champions, but I was fairly certain that Cedric Diggory, Fleur Delacour, and Viktor Krum were in with a good chance each.
The evening feast was even more extravagant than the Welcome Feast the day before, but then Hallowe'en was always a big occasion. I felt a little silly keeping an eye on Jim even as I ate, as though he might make a desperate run for the Goblet and need to be tackled like a streaker at a football game.
The lights dimmed, the air stilled, and I could sense the tension in the Great Hall without even trying. Theo hunched his shoulders a bit. He hated crowds, especially when they were worked up about something.
Professor Dumbledore led the ceremony dressed in a sombre burgundy robe, a far cry from his usual flamboyance. I had never been close to the man. I couldn't afford to appear too fond of such a prominent Light figure, considering my house and the friends I had made. Sirius had told me that the headmaster understood, and didn't take offence.
Daphne was on my left. I shuffled slightly closer. Certain students were taking advantage of the diminished visibility to be a little friendlier than they would dare to be in other circumstances, and it gave me an idea.
"Delacour, Krum, Diggory," I muttered under my breath, meeting her raised eyebrow with a smirk. A little arrogance was supposed to be an aphrodisiac, after all, and Tracey was right – I had some making-up to do. Better that I started planting seeds now so that I could reap the benefits when the Yule Ball came around.
Or maybe I was a little more relaxed than usual after Draco treated everyone to a shot of firewhiskey from a bottle he'd taken from his father's cellars. Our cups of 'augmented pumpkin juice' had gone down with a bit of spluttering, but quite a few smiles. Pansy had managed less gracefully than the rest of the group, and Draco was now holding her against his chest with surprising tenderness. Theo had declined, already on-edge due to the crowd and having no desire to ingest anything that might affect his Occlumency.
Daphne flushed a little from my close attention. I delighted in the sight. Her composure was legendary when it came to flirting.
"For every name you get right, let's take a drink," she murmured. In the low light and heavy atmosphere, her words made my skin tingle. Across the table, Tracey shared her cup with a nearby Durmstrang boy, putting a finger to her smiling lips in the process. He appeared spellbound as he accepted, and his eyes widened in recognition when he tasted the 'juice'. They shared a flushed grin.
The Goblet belched flames suddenly, casting flickering lights across the excited crowd. Dumbledore caught the note that emerged, still smoking.
"The champion for Beauxbatons… is Fleur Delacour," Dumbledore announced. Cheers rose from the French, while the other schools clapped enthusiastically, particularly the males. Fleur rose from her seat among the Ravenclaws, letting her allure seep into every eye that touched her, sending a wave of arousal through the room that only broke upon the more resilient students. The quarter-Veela relished the attention as she made her way to a room behind the staff table.
Daphne and I looked into each other's eyes as we sipped. They sparkled in the firelight.
Another gout of flame, another scrap of parchment.
"The champion for Durmstrang… is Viktor Krum!"
A huge, masculine roar went up from the Durmstrang boys (and the Quidditch fans among the rest of the students) as Krum strode up to join Fleur in the antechamber. He, at least, was humble, though I caught a small grin when he glanced back from the doorway.
I hooked my arm through Daphne's before we drank, making her smile. I'm going to kiss her, I thought. Forget waiting for the Yule Ball, one more sip and I'll go for it.
With a final, dazzling spurt of blue-white flames, the last note fluttered down into Dumbledore's open palm.
"The champion for Hogwarts… is Cedric Diggory!" he called.
My heart raced. There seemed to be an unspoken agreement between Daphne and I to finish our cups this time. I nearly choked, I was so nervous. We placed our cups on the table within a second of each other, and I leaned closer, placing a hand on her thigh as we –
There was a fourth burst of fire.
My good mood died in an instant. A focused burst of psychic energy shot through my body, disintegrating the firewhiskey inside me to ensure my thought processes would not be hindered. Daphne turned as I did, staring at the unreliable Goblet. Confused muttering overtook the cheering. Diggory was already in the antechamber, likely unaware of why his fans had gone silent.
+Alert,+ I said mentally.
Theo jumped next to me, startled. I caught a glimpse of his surface thoughts before he regained his composure – surprise at the Goblet, annoyance at having to witness me making moves on Daphne, and the ever-present strain of a room full of tense people.
+Stretch your senses, Theo. You're subtler than I am. Look for someone who isn't surprised.+
Theo immediately sat up straight and began passing his gaze over the crowd. The Goblet's fourth scrap of parchment fell into Dumbledore's waiting, uncertain fingers. I suppressed the urge to send a psychic lance across the room and pulverise the note before it could be read. Magical contracts being what they were, I doubted it would make any difference.
"Jim Potter," Dumbledore said calmly. I wondered if the old man had activated his Thought function so that he could buy more time to consider the possible reasons for this breach of tradition. I hoped he was having better luck than me.
+Theo!+
"I can't – everybody is surprised!" Theo hissed, drawing the attention of the rest of my group. "Nobody I can reach stands out, but my range isn't infinite, you know!"
"Protections," I murmured, as confused and suspicious chattering filled the hall. I felt those of my friends who possessed Protection functions activate them. Across the room, Jim hadn't stood. He was mouthing something to his friends even as they pat him on the back for getting one by the headmaster. That annoying 'sympathy' thing reared its head again, but I kept it firmly under control.
I psy-flashed the room. Like a wideband radio burst, my mind flooded the Great Hall for less than a second, taking a snapshot of auras and emotions. It was overt but nondirectional from the perspective of all but the most dedicated practitioners of the Mind Arts. The growing unrest stuttered for a moment as people found themselves distracted by something they couldn't quite pin down. Some people rubbed their upper arms at the chilly draft that wafted through the room for an instant. A handful of older students, mainly sixth and seventh years, looked around for the source of the flash, and most of their eyes settled on Dumbledore. That was fine by me.
Professor Snape, an unpleasant but not unreasonable man in my experience, locked eyes with me in an instant. He knew very well the headmaster wasn't responsible, and while I doubted the Potions professor was capable of flashing a room this large, I didn't discount the possibility that he understood what I was trying to accomplish. In any case, I dismissed him swiftly.
Professor Dumbledore himself, however, didn't react to the flash in any way. He was in the middle of explaining that a fourth name was unexpected and required immediate investigation, while waving a reluctant Jim into the antechamber. The headmaster hadn't even skipped a beat when the flash hit. I couldn't help but acknowledge his skill.
I parsed the flash-data. It was tremulous and fell to pieces even as I examined it; a thin slice of hundreds of psyches, frozen in a single moment. Shock, surprise, some good-natured nice-one-Jim-ness from the Gryffindors, but not a single fleck of something incriminating.
I gritted my teeth. The flash was supposed to be so fast and unexpected it would catch any suspicious characters off-guard, whether they were students or –
My eyes snapped to Moody without thinking. His artificial eye, which normally spun in every direction, was unflinching in its focus on me. It was eerie having both eyes watching me from that twisted, scarred face, and I almost missed the fact he was toying with something beneath his shirt.
The voidrope necklace.
Out of the three people in the hall who had resisted the flash, not counting my friends and Blaise, Moody was by far the most suspicious. No matter his illustrious history of killing Death Eaters, the man was quite clearly unhinged – maybe unhinged enough to launch some kind of plot to lure evildoers into the open by putting Jim into the tournament. More sinister possibilities couldn't be ruled out either.
I should have looked away and pretended I was scanning the staff table in general. Instead, for the second time that evening, I had to stop myself from launching a psychic lance. It was too late. Moody could clearly see I had drawn a conclusion that involved him, and whether he was simply returning the favour or was inspecting a potential threat to his plans remained unclear.
Someone was waiting near the dungeons as we left the feast. The last person anyone would expect to deliberately place herself in the path of Slytherins on the way to bed was standing beside the entrance, her arms folded. She looked up when she saw us approaching.
I cocked my head curiously, and waved my friends on ahead. They seemed equally befuddled by the appearance of the school's biggest bookworm. After my conversation with Jim, I wasn't as surprised.
Hermione Granger approached me with slow, evenly-spaced steps. Her face was neutral, her body language calm. I eyed her with some bemusement. The psy-flash had betrayed her own shock at Jim's acceptance into the tournament, so I wasn't suspicious of her. Well, no more than anyone else.
"Potter," she said. "May I speak with you privately?"
"Sure. Granger, right?" I replied politely. She nodded and led me into a spare classroom. I seemed to spend a lot of time in places like this lately.
I paused next to a desk and clasped my hands in front of me. Granger wandered a little further into the room, her steps pensive. She halted near the professor's desk and turned on the spot to face me with her lips pursed and her eyes narrowed. I met her gaze pleasantly and remained silent as she cast a privacy charm.
"You are likely aware," she began, "That I was involved, to a limited degree, in the events that transpired at Hogsmeade near the start of term."
I tilted my head slightly and said nothing. She clearly had a point to make.
"Though I was incapacitated by the assailant early on, I managed to retain my hearing through the use of the Mind Arts. Are you aware of the Bulwark technique?"
I felt a tingle of pleasure. It wasn't often I was surprised by someone's capabilities.
"I am," I said. "Something of a nascent Backup function, intended to allow the user to retain some amount of control of their bodies in the event of incapacitation. Crude and inferior to a true Backup, but also possible to learn at lower levels of Occlumency stability without wasting a function slot."
Granger nodded. "I confess my mastery of the technique is as crude as the technique itself," she said humbly. "But while I wasn't able to stay conscious in any useful sense, I was able to maintain the parts of my brain responsible for hearing and remembering sound. It took me some time to realise I had memories that were pure audio, but after reflecting and drawing them to the surface, I was able to piece together some of what transpired during the period in which I was unconscious."
"Oh?" I said. "Anything interesting?"
Granger furrowed her brow. "I heard Potter – the other Potter, that is – charge into the Shrieking Shack. After a short period of silence, I heard a girl, who I believe to be Daphne Greengrass, pass by my body and say 'Not an illusion, then' as though talking to someone else. Despite this, I can only hear one set of footsteps. From the direction of her steps, I think she went to the window of the shack, then moved to fire a spell through the doorway. Afterwards, –"
"Granger," I interrupted gently. "You clearly heard something in particular that you want to discuss with me. I don't need a play-by-play from the perspective of a blind, unconscious observer."
Granger didn't bristle, but spots of colour appeared in her cheeks. "I overheard Potter and Greengrass have a conversation in the entrance room of the Shrieking Shack. It was faint, but given that my brain didn't really have anything else to do at that point, I managed to catch most of it quite clearly."
"And what part of that conversation would you like to discuss?" I asked.
Granger took a deep breath. "Shall I lay out the facts?"
"Please."
"You have given Greengrass – and likely more of your friends – a wearable item such as a ring or necklace through which you can communicate with them. You can also use said items to take full control of your friends' bodies, and even speak through their mouths and do magic with their wands. You are conducting your own investigation into the attack and seem to have a vested interest in your brother's safety. The mercenary was wearing a 'weird necklace' that interfered with your control over Greengrass's body, presumably meaning it is some kind of anti-Mind Arts item. Greengrass trusts you implicitly, and while your brother has reservations, he does as well."
I didn't react during her speech. The moment she mentioned she had overheard something from that day, I had reviewed my memories of that very conversation as seen from Daphne's perspective. I hadn't expected Granger to know the Bulwark technique, or even for her to have fallen close enough to the shack to hear any of what transpired inside. Despite my surprise, I didn't feel threatened by her knowledge. If anything, her discovery would paint me in a positive light from her perspective: someone of power who helps others.
I raised my eyebrows and spread my hands as though saying, "And?"
Granger didn't seem daunted by my silence. "I want something from you and I believe I can offer something valuable in return," she finally said.
"Elaborate," I said.
"You sounded surprised when you realised the assailant's necklace interfered with your mental abilities. I've done some research and I believe I know what the necklace may have been made of."
"I'm aware of voidrope. Do you have anything else?"
"But do you know where it comes from?" Granger said hurriedly.
"Fanes or burial sites," I said dismissively, half-turning my body as though preparing to leave. By forcing her to prove her worth, I hoped to make her blurt out something she would otherwise keep in reserve.
"But why was it used in fanes? And why were people buried with it?"
I didn't truly know the answer, but I had theories. "For its psychic containment properties. And, presumably, because they were thought to prevent evil spirits from rising from the grave."
"But you don't know that, do you?" Granger pressed, perhaps sensing my reticence.
"Granger, I have other things on my mind at the moment," I said with a shrug. "I'll get around to researching fanes properly at some point, but unless you can explain why they should be of interest to me at this very moment, I really don't see a reason to value whatever scraps of knowledge you've found in the library that I missed."
Granger's eyes glinted. "Relevant? Would the fact that your home is located near one of the largest fanes in Britain be considered relevant in your eyes?"
Damn it. I was interested.
"Potter Manor is unplottable," I said, turning to face her properly. "How would you know where it is?"
"Your brother told me."
"You two are close?"
"Acquaintances. I'm his unofficial advisor on questions relating to the Mind Arts. He's too proud to go running to you whenever he wants to know something. To everyone else, I'm just his new study-buddy."
I neglected to mention that Jim had, in fact, gone running to me for advice on the Mind Arts earlier today. I realised with no small amount of annoyance that my brother had likely used me to fact-check the information Granger was giving him. He likely already knew about Occlumency functions when he asked.
I can't ever let the others find out Jim tricked me. I'll never hear the end of it.
I didn't even have the voidrope fibre excuse anymore.
"Mind if I ask what kind of deal you've struck with him?" I said.
Granger smiled. "I needed him in order to find an angle I could use to get your attention. Imagine my surprise when I was poring over maps of discovered and suspected fanes in the United Kingdom and he leaned over and casually pointed out how close Potter Manor is to a certain site. I've also told him that I know about your abilities, and that I won't say anything as long as he doesn't tell you. I confessed I was afraid you might wipe my memories if you knew."
"Playing on his protective, heroic sensibilities in order to prevent me from seeing this coming until you were ready. Well done," I said sincerely.
Granger gave a tiny curtsy in appreciation of the praise, her bushy hair bobbing. The gesture rather warmed me to her.
"I suppose I might be interested in knowing more about fanes after all," I went on. "But what on earth could a humble Slytherin like myself offer someone as brilliant as you?"
Granger's lips twisted wryly. "The Mind Arts. I've gotten very far on my own, but if I had a tutor of your calibre…"
"Have you asked Professor Snape and the headmaster? They are much more experienced than me."
"I have, actually. In my second year. The headmaster was very kind; he explained he simply didn't have the time to tutor any one student to the degree I desired. As for Professor Snape, well, out of respect for your house I won't repeat what he said."
I nodded reasonably. That was about what I'd expected.
"I have two functions," Granger added on like credentials. "And I'm almost ready for a third."
"Protection and Memory, I'm guessing?"
"Protection and Thought," she corrected. "Traditional memorisation methods work just fine for my purposes."
At the early stages of Occlumency training, or even the intermediate stage that Granger was about to enter, it was important to think long and hard about what functions to get and in which order. Most chose Protection first, and if they bothered to go on it was usually for Memory. I liked Granger's confidence in her natural data retention skills.
"I've been teaching my friends since I met them and they haven't made as much progress as you've made on your own," I said. "Why do you think I'll be able to help you?"
"I'm better than them," Granger said bluntly, if not inaccurately. "I can keep up with the more advanced exercises."
I folded my arms in consideration. "I have to say, I don't remember you being this forthright a few years ago." The few times I'd noticed her in the previous years she had been either bossy or defensive, expecting a jab or insult at any second. Now that I gave her a proper examination, I noted that while she still seemed a bit stiff, she'd lost her habit of turning her nose up at people, and there was a shrewd sort of poise in the way she held herself.
Granger laughed mirthlessly. "When you get bullied regularly, you either develop a thick skin and find a source of confidence unrelated to social standing, or you crumble into a heap. I chose the former."
"I take it you don't get bothered very often anymore?"
"Strangely enough, no," she said lightly. "Must be my interpersonal skills finally blooming."
I grinned. She certainly didn't look like a victim anymore. I found myself coming around to the idea of spending time with her.
"Well, Granger, I don't know how much time I will be able to give you, so let's agree on an endpoint for our deal," I said.
Granger cocked her head. "You have other things to do?"
"Of course." I declined to elaborate, though she clearly wanted me to. "Shall we say, I'll help you attain your third function in return for your knowledge on fanes?"
She was shaking her head before I finished my sentence. "I'm so close to my third, that wouldn't be fair. Help me reach my fourth and I promise not to drip-feed you what I know about fanes to spread it over weeks."
"Your fourth could take us well into the next school year," I said, shaking my head in turn. "In that amount of time, I would be able to research fanes on my own."
Granger shrugged. "Do you have a counter-proposal?"
Oh, why not.
"I will help you until you are ready for your third function and I will personally construct and implant it for no extra charge."
Her eyes widened. "You… Pardon me, it seems I continually underestimate your skill level. I didn't realise you were a master."
I bobbed my shoulders and smiled good-naturedly. "Very few people do."
"How, um, how many functions do you have?"
"The full seven, and no, I'm not going to tell you what they are."
Granger chuckled, a little breathlessly. "Right. Of course, Potter."
"Please call me Harry when we're together," I said genially.
"Only if you call me Hermione," she replied automatically, though her mind was clearly on other things.
"I'll be in contact when I have time for our first session." I went to the door and turned to look at her over my shoulder. "I have to say, Hermione, you've certainly got my attention now," I said with a grin. There may have been something wolfish about it.
Hermione's poise wavered, and she forced another laugh. "Oh, good," she said quietly.
I left her in the classroom. Her growing uncertainty was pummelling my senses and I figured she needed time to regain her composure. She had evidently expected me to be a prodigious but otherwise ordinary boy. By the end of our meeting, I think she was beginning to get an idea of just who she had gotten involved with.
Author's Notes:
Finally, an explanation of my funky fresh Occlumency system. This story is heavily focused around the Mind Arts, so there will be plenty more psychic shenanigans to come.
Please review if you're enjoying the ride!