Harper knew she could face expulsion for getting caught inside the Restricted Section without a pass from a professor, but her research was extracurricular and urgent.
Madam Elspeth was not too strict, at least. She was old, over 150, and her vision wasn't too keen. Even if she did manage to walk on her shaky legs all the way across the library, she surely wouldn't recognize her, as she preferred to study in the common room to avoid Mel, who tended to talk her ear off.
There was no solution for Annie other than the Draught of Peace, which turned St. Mungo's patients afflicted with hysteria into listless, barely-responsive shells. Hysteria was looked at as a muggle disease, as those with only muggle blood could catch it. Only a few drops of "tainted" blood would do, even if the muggle had been several generations back. Their father, Charles, was a half-blood despite everyone being forbidden to speak of it. His father, Albert Messier, had been muggle-born. Harper had found out through the Pureblood Directory. The Messiers were still pure enough to avoid problems, but she knew it was an eternal sore spot at Number 18.
She rifled through a book, Magick Moste Evile, which had quite a few curses to drive a human mad, the root of all of them Legilimency, "a spell to penetrate the depths of the mind." She knew of it, hearing Professor Riddle mention it in a lesson, but neither he nor the book informed her of any theory or incantation.
Perhaps this one—The Mind as an Unchained Web. Very useful, it appeared, to make sense of the mind once she entered it, but again, it didn't tell her how to enter, only referring to Legilimency.
Frustrated, with dust clinging to her eyelashes and filling her nose, Harper pulled the ladder down the aisle to the very last book, a thick, purple and black tome titled Secrets of the Darkest Art. This one, she noted with interest, was not as dusty as many of the others were in this aisle. Someone had been looking through it recently—in the last couple of months. Perhaps one of her classmates?
Well, she was unlikely to find that out unless they had left something behind in between the pages. They hadn't, so she opened to the first chapter: Introductory Spells. No, not there…not in Poisons, Hexes, Power, Increasing Transformations, Soul Magic…here, Chapter Ten, Mind Invasion and Manipulation.
The very first page had exactly what she was looking for. The incantation—Legilimens—was easy enough to commit to memory.
Step One: Stand no more than ten feet away with wand raised 80 degrees.
Step Two: Make and hold eye contact with subject. This is of utmost importance for novices!
Step Three: With a low, clear voice, speak aloud the incantation. See Appendix A for pronunciation.
Step Four: Once properly and securely in the mind, you must choose which corridor to take: Pre-Frontal One, Two, or Three. Note: You will not be able to move to the lower cortex without going through Pre-Frontal One! See map of brain in Appendix B.
Harper flipped to Appendix B on page 725, where a drawing of the human brain had been crafted in minute detail. There were at least twenty parts of the brain, each with over 100 different passageways. "Merlin's trousers," she muttered, wishing she'd brought a quill and parchment. A return trip was definitely required.
She flipped back to Chapter Ten and read on:
Step Five: Will the mind to slow by concentrating intently upon the first memory retrieved. Focus on any and all detail, particularly colors. Note: This requires keeping own mind in a complete State of Blankness. The practice of Occlumency is highly recommended.
Harper frowned; she'd heard that term before, Occlumency. Where? Last year, in Defense, Merrythought had told the class its definition: the art of clearing and protecting one's mind from Dark invasion. There had been a question about it on the OWL, but they'd never practiced it.
Step Six: Interpret accordingly. For manipulation practices, see page 501.
Well, that wasn't very helpful. She didn't want to manipulate a mind; she wanted to mend one. Harper slip Secrets of the Darkest Art back onto the shelf and returned to The Mind as an Unchained Web. Perhaps a professor would write her a slip for it? Doubtful—it seemed to be intricately linked to Legilimency, a Dark spell. No, there wasn't a professor at Hogwarts who would approve of this except for maybe Riddle, who seemed much more inclined toward the Dark Arts than any other. The problem was that Harper was wary of Riddle and didn't wish to interact with him any more than necessary.
Now was not the time to ruminate on that, however. She had to get out of the library before Madam Elspeth realized that Messier, Harpalyke was not in hearing range, placing her in only one section. Harper also had to get to her journal as soon as possible and relay the information about Legilimency while it was still fresh in her mind.
Once out of the library, she ran into Felix Murdoch, who begged her for her Astronomy notes to help with his essay. She reluctantly agreed to lend them to him later for the duration of her prefect rounds. "Thanks, Harper!" he called as he scurried off to the dungeons.
Beryl Fawley and Druella Rosier waved to her politely on their way to the Great Hall. Druella looked positively glum, and Harper found out why when she reached the fork between the Left and Right-Wing dungeons: Cygnus Black was about a foot in front of Annie, arm outstretched, palm against the wall. Annie was giggling, chin tilted down as she peered up at him through thick, dark eyelashes.
Harper hoped that Annie's position would make it difficult to notice her, but of course, she was mistaken. "Where are you off to, Harpalyke?" she called in her fake-sweet voice. "It's time for supper."
Harper tried not to scrunch up her face at her sister's use of her given name. She didn't want to upset her, so she simply smiled and replied, "I'll be just a moment, sister."
She could feel both pairs of dark eyes on her back before Annie spoke to Black again. Harper didn't stick around to hear the discussion. She burst into the sixth-year girls' dormitory and locked the door behind her.
As soon as she was seated at her desk, she pulled out her journal and quill and wrote furiously for nearly ten minutes. In years past, she'd taken to using pieces of parchment, but now that she was more confident in her charm on the book, she'd taken to carrying it everywhere, lest she needed to refer to something quickly.
Once the basics of Legilimency had been transcribed, Harper slipped the journal in her bag and headed to the Great Hall, where a plate of lukewarm food was waiting for her.
Later that evening, she closed her bed hangings even though the dormitory was again empty and splayed out the Freud essay and the journal opened to the page on Legilimency.
According the Freud, the superego was in the forefront of the brain. That must've been the "Pre-Frontal One" Secrets of the Darkest Art referred to. The superego was a combination of the id, or the deeply-tucked primal urges, mostly the sexual and aggressive, and the ego. We've been using that term a bit differently, Harper noted, since "ego" was the root of "egotistical," a term she often silently applied to the Slytherin boys. Freud's ego kept the id in check, forming the way human behaved.
Harper could see no reasons why this wouldn't apply to wizards, too. After all, they had the same brains, didn't they? Many purebloods would've argued that, but the fact remained that there were only slight differences between muggle and wizard, other than the ability to do magic, and most of those differences took place within the immune system.
A quick, heavy puff escaped Harper's chest. Those who had studied the mind all agreed that a hysteric's was broken and scattered. There was no cure, but each race had their own method of dealing: Draught of Peace for wizards, something called "shock therapy" for muggles. Freud's psychoanalysis appeared to be an alternative to that.
"Harper?" Beryl Fawley's nasally voice called suddenly, startling her. "McCready's in the corridor asking for you."
"Alright, coming." Harper gathered the books and opened the hangings. "Thank you," she said to Fawley's back, but the other girl didn't hear her. She slid the journal under her arm, though she doubted that, between Mel, homework, and rounds, she wouldn't have a chance to write again that evening.
-x-
Alphard had to get away from Yaxley and Cygnus as soon as possible. Neither of them would shut up about Ananke Messier and her "wild side" they claimed she must have in bed.
"I dunno if it would be worth it, though, mate," Yaxley was saying. "What if she wigs out halfway through?"
"That's what a Silencing Charm is for," answered Cygnus, shrugging a shoulder. "You'd better learn it now, because if you plan on spending any time at all with a witch, you'll need it. Or a muggle, if that's your preference." They both snickered derisively.
Alphard stood from the chair, unable to take it anymore. "I fancy a walk on the grounds," he told them, but they paid him no attention.
On the way to the Entrance Hall, he passed Delmont and Murdoch, who were whispering conspiratorially to each other as they walked. They immediately stopped upon seeing Alphard approach.
"Where you off to, mate?" Murdoch asked.
"Grounds."
"Wicked cold out there," Delmont warned.
Alphard shrugged noncommittally. He knew that, as a prefect, he should be concerned about what the two boys were up to, but he wasn't in the slightest. Cygnus could handle that for once; Alphard was skiving off duties for the day.
They parted ways and Alphard headed to the grounds. Delmont wasn't lying: it was awfully cold, even for October. The sun was poking through puffy clouds, but the whipping wind snatched away all warmth. The grounds were unoccupied save for the Quidditch pitch, where the Gryffindor team was practicing for the upcoming match, looking rather ridiculous in wool cloaks.
Why had Alphard come out here? For a bit of breathing room, he reckoned, for his fellow Slytherins tended to stifle him. Sometimes he wondered if he's been Sorted into the correct House.
He'd been mistaken: there was another who'd come outside for a reason other than Quidditch. A flash of blonde hair against the Black Lake caught his eye, and he saw an older-year girl in Ravenclaw robes sitting on a boulder near the shore, facing the lake.
As Alphard walked toward her, his footsteps crunched loudly against the pebbled shore, catching her attention. She turned and he recognized her as Mel McCready. The expression on her face was so conflicted and forlorn, he paused in place.
"Hello, Mel," he said tentatively.
"Hello, Alphard," Mel replied. "Is someone looking for me? Harper, perhaps?"
Alphard shook his head as a strong gust blew his dark hair into his eyes. "I haven't seen her."
Mel's shoulders sagged. "She's quite the disappearing act these days. Dunno why I thought she'd seek me out."
He didn't quite know what to say to that, but she looked miserable, hugging her cloak tightly around her shoulders, warding out the wind. "Mind if I join you?" he asked, unable to come up with anything better.
"No, I don't mind," she said, looking not at him but the rippling black water.
He hoisted himself up onto the boulder and settled his rear into a groove about a foot away from her.
They didn't speak for a good ten minutes. Mel seemed content to just stare at the lake, while Alphard wondered if it was too early to excuse himself. It was damn cold, and he was sickened with himself for thinking this way, but he didn't want one of the Slytherins to come out and find him with a half-blood. Malfoy wouldn't care, since he fancied the girl a bit himself, but Cygnus and Orion would surely not be pleased.
"Alphard," said Mel suddenly. "What do you suppose will happen when Grindelwald decides he wants control over Magical Britain?"
Alphard glanced at her out of the side of his eye. Her pretty face was pensive, her cheeks blistering red from the cold, although she seemed otherwise unaffected by it. Above, a cloud blew over the sun, casting everything in grey.
"I'm not sure," he answered after much deliberation.
"Do you think it'll be like Eastern Europe?"
"I'm not sure," Alphard repeated even though his brain was saying yes. He didn't want to upset her, to possibly cause a wig out like Messier One's.
"I suppose I could ask my brother," she said, eyes still on the water. "If anyone knows Grindelwald's next move, it would be him."
Alphard couldn't dispute that, so he stayed silent.
"I'm not quite sure I want to correspond with him, though," she continued, speaking more to herself. "He's written me a letter, but I don't know how to reply. He is dead set on Grindelwald's Regime being a positive aspect to our society, but I don't think it will be."
"I don't, either," Alphard blurted, surprising himself.
Mel turned her wide blue eyes on him. They were the color of the sky on a clear summer day. He was immediately drawn to them, unable to look away. No wonder Malfoy fancied her despite her blood status. Alphard had never really looked at her before, lacking the intense interest in witches his counterparts had.
"Really?" she asked skeptically. "Or are you just saying that so as not to offend me?"
"No, I meant it," he replied quickly. "I'm saying it because, well, I've never spoken to anyone who agreed with it before."
She was still suspicious, but he could tell she was also a bit intrigued. "But wouldn't you—your family…benefit from the regime?"
He looked away, down at his shoes. The leather looked sturdy and pristine next to Mel's worm Mary Janes. Even now as they spoke as equals, the differences between them were clear. "Probably. But I'm unconcerned about wealth and power. I wish only for the war to go away, for all of us to live peacefully."
"Me too!" she exclaimed, eyes growing even wider. He was treated to the concentration of sky blue, now with a slight sparkle. He fought to keep the corners of his mouth from turning up. "Golly, Alphard! I had no idea you shared a similar sentiment! Being a Black and all…"
She trailed off, looking at her own shoes as she kicked nervously against the rock.
"Yes, my family's view on the matter is rather different," Alphard said. "I could catch quite a bit of grief if any of them found out."
Mel smiled, and he felt his head start to fuzz up as a warmth spread through his limbs despite the cold. "I'll keep your secret," she said playfully.
He found himself grinning back, hoping he didn't look like a fool. His frozen cheeks cracked around his lips and he winced before he could stop himself.
Unfortunately, she noticed. "Are you alright? You look a bit uncomfortable."
"I'm utterly freezing," Alphard admitted. He hadn't a clue how she could stand it, let alone sit unfazed. He realized he hadn't much exposure to colder temperatures, as Number Twelve was always warm in the winter.
Slightly embarrassed, he looked away, but she laid a bare hand on his arm and gave him another smile. Her teeth were not perfectly straight, but they lit up her face in a way that left Alphard slightly dumbfounded. "Come on, then. Let's go inside."
They walked side by side, talking about classes. Between those and prefect duties, their schedules were almost identical, but Alphard usually defaulted to communicating with Harper, his fellow Slytherin. He enjoyed talking with Mel slightly more; she was so eager to unload words, almost as if she trusted him. He supposed that after the debacle with her brother, she hadn't many friends in her own House. Olive Hornby, another Ravenclaw in their year, was constantly gossiping about her and throwing her dirty looks.
"Well, it was nice talking to you, Alphard," she said as soon as they reached the Entrance Hall.
"You as well," he replied earnestly as she walked toward the Great Hall. He couldn't help himself from watching her curls bounce over her shoulders and the sway of her skirt.
Get ahold of yourself, mate, he scolded himself internally.
-x-
12 November 1945
GRINDELWALD DECLARES HIMSELF MINISTER
In a violent coup that took place on the tenth of November, Gellert Grindelwald and his ruthless Magic Army stormed into the Ministry of Magic and captured over 120 workers, holding them within the Department of Mysteries. The location of Leonard Spencer-Moon is unknown at this time. Rumors are circulating that Grindelwald has made contact with Winston Churchill, the muggle prime minister, but this cannot be confirmed as of yet…
Citizens of Magical Britain, we must band together! We must refuse Grindelwald as our leader and disband the Magic Army! Our resistance to Dark forces must not waver…
13 November 1945
Dear Readers,
We regret to inform you that the propaganda posing as news "The Daily Prophet" has been discontinued. As citizens of a new wizarding frontier, you deserve the truth. Our Leader only wants the best for all European witches and wizards, as well as to strengthen connections to other magical communities across the globe. We urge you to subscribe to the new, true press, The Oracle.
We look forward to working with you, prized magical citizen to create a society impenetrable and unyielding to corruption and filth!
20 November 1945
Dear Walden
Mel's handwriting came out as scribbles, for her hand was shaking too badly to get a proper grip on her quill. Her breaths came out as rapid huffs as tears blurred her eyes. She was fighting the urge to cry and scream.
Please just tell me what's to come. Please tell me our family will be safe. Tell me, Walden, what is a "society impenetrable and unyielding to corruption and filth"? What exactly does that entail? Do you really think Grindelwald will show enough concern for our family not to put us in camps like he's done in the east? We are muggles to him and impure to the rest of Magical Britain. If you care about me even the slightest, you will be forthcoming about our fate.
Sincerely,
Mel
21 November 1945
Dear Miss McCready:
Your letter to Walden McCready was not sent due to the inflammatory content expressed toward our Leader. We are aware that this is a heavy adjustment from the old loosely-constructed order of operations. However, we recommend that you refrain from derogatory statements in written or verbal form, or face the consequence. Thank you for your compliance.
Sincerely,
Praxidike Warner
Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic
"Goddamn it," Mel yelled, crumpling the parchment into a ball and chucking it at her desk. She'd had enough sense to remove herself from the Great Hall immediately upon receiving a letter from the Ministry of Magic, correctly interpreting it as a sign of bad news.
Crumpling it wasn't satisfying enough. She snatched her wand and pointed it at the balled-up letter. "Incendio!" Watching it curl into flames calmed her only slightly, but she was better off returning to the Great Hall. Perhaps someone had noticed her absence, or maybe Harper was waiting for her.
Yes, and I'm a dancing peacock, she thought grumpily as she stomped down the corridor from Ravenclaw Tower. No one noticed her absence and Harper wasn't waiting for her because she was too preoccupied with that goddamn book she lugged around everywhere. Adventure story, my hat. All the sudden, Harper fancied herself a novelist? Mel didn't buy that, and moreover, she was hurt that her best friend seemed to hide everything from her, when Mel shared candidly her thoughts and worries.
She was wrong—Harper was, in fact, sitting at the Ravenclaw table waiting for her, sans book no less. The sight of her should've made Mel feel better, but it only fueled her anger.
"Where's your precious book, eh?" she snapped at her. "Decided to grace me with your presence, have you? What's the occasion?"
Harper frowned at her, nonplussed. "What's the matter?"
"Oh, nothing, everything's just swell!" Mel knew she was being irrationally cross with Harper, but she couldn't seem to stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth. "If you'd picked your nose up from that damn book once in a while, you'd know Grindelwald's got complete control of the UK, and what that means to us. Lucky you, you haven't got to give a toss about the Regime!"
"Mel—"
"What on Earth are you writing in that poxy thing, anyway? Don't give me this 'action-adventure' rubbish either, because I know it isn't…"
The back halves of the Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables had gone quiet. Ananke Messier had actually turned in her seat, a glimmer in her eye from witnessing the replacement wig-out that would catch all the gossip.
Harper, to her credit, seemed to sense that Mel's fury had little to do with her book. She stood and took her friend's hand, tugging her away. "Come, let's take a walk."
As they climbed a staircase to the second floor, holding hands, Mel finally began to calm down. "I'm sorry I wigged."
"It's quite alright," Harper said genially, still tugging on her fingers. She knew that a gentle touch, not something she was inclined to do, relaxed Mel.
"Only…sometimes I feel as if this friendship is one-sided," she continued, expecting a defensive response that did not come.
Instead, Harper stopped, gripped Mel's shoulders, and nodded. "You were right. It's not an adventure story. I've been recording all the background and behaviors of Hogwarts staff and students since fourth year."
"You—what?" Mel blurted, failing to grasp the information.
Harper pulled her forward, looking around with a shrewd expression. Nearby, there was a portrait of a chubby old man known to throw insults at students, but he was mysteriously quiet at the moment. "Come, let's go back downstairs."
They entered the dungeons, where Harper took her to an old classroom Professor Merrythought had used for a couple of years. Since it faced an area of the lake that almost never saw the sun, it was deemed too dark to teach effectively. Thus around 1943, she took over the room next door, which Riddle currently occupied. In Merrythought's days, students had snuck in the old classroom to duel, since they were unlikely to be caught, as the other Defense classroom was the only one that shared this side of the corridor, and Merrythought's hearing was on the decline.
Mel had a hunch that Riddle was a bit more alert, but it wasn't as if she and Harper were having a duel. He was most likely not in the room anyhow, as breakfast wasn't yet over.
"You mustn't tell a single soul about this, do you understand?" Harper said in a hushed tone. When Mel nodded, she continued, "I've been recording these things to analyze them. About a year and a half ago, I found a book by this muggle called Freud, who attempts to explain human behavior, so lately I've been using it as a model to figure out what's wrong with Annie…to help fix her."
"Golly, Harper, that's fascinating," said Mel with sincerity. "But you haven't got to fix Annie. She's not your responsibility."
Harper looked at her as if she'd suddenly sprouted another head. "She's my sister. I've got to try."
Privately, Mel thought blood relation wasn't enough if one's sibling treated them as snidely as Annie treated Harper. Then she thought of Walden, at her outrage and disgust at his actions, and her unwillingness to denounce him.
"May I see some of it?" she asked, assuming the answer was going to be no.
Harper did shake her head, but for a moment she surveyed Mel, as if mentally sizing her up for something. She opened her mouth to speak, but just then the door to the classroom swung open and they both started, eyes wide.
Professor Riddle stood in the doorway, frowning at the pair of them. "Surely you ladies should be getting to your first class?"
Mel, blushing, stood frozen with her throat closed, but Harper took her hand and pulled. "Yes, sir," she said, undaunted. "Come on, Mel."
As soon as Riddle had disappeared, Harper turned to Mel and told her, "I'll meet you in Charms. I've got to get something from my dormitory."
"Oh…alright."
Mel headed to Charms, where she sat at her table and took out her quill and parchment, since Professor Gangly always started the class by bombarding them with notes. Behind her, Patty Perks and Olive Hornby were whispering and casting glances at her. She pretended they weren't there.
This was made easier when Harper burst in just before Gangly entered the classroom from his office and tapped on the blackboard, revealing at least twenty lines of tiny white scrawls.
"Here, take it," Harper whispered, leaned over with one hand in her bag and the other shoving a roll of parchment onto Mel's lap.
"What—?"
"Miss McCready, mouth closed, please," Gangly said briskly before plunging into lecture.
After Transfiguration, Mel had a free period while Harper had Arithmancy, so she took the mysterious roll of parchment to her dormitory, where only quiet Eustacia Welsh sat at her desk, studying. Mel didn't worry—Eustacia rarely paid attention to others, preferring whatever was in that pigtailed head of hers.
When Mel unrolled the parchment, to her immense disappointment, she saw only a sentence or two. However, that faded as she read it, replaced by excitement:
By reading this, you swear to destroy it, as this is a copy meant for you only. Double-tap your wand to agree.
Mel tapped her blackthorn wand two times against the words. They seeped into the page and more appeared. Hundreds more.
McCready, Melody Amelia
11 January 1929, half-blood
40 Meeker St, London
Boggart: dead mother
Family: Angela and Donald McCready (parents), Walden (brother), Bertha (aunt). British father, Austrian mother.
Melody McCready is a half-blood witch that lives on Meeker St in London, in a predominantly muggle area affected by "bombings" of 1941. Mother Angela, muggle-born, homemaker. Father Donald, half-blood, works in Muggle Liaison Office. Brother Walden in Magical Law Enforcement. Auntie Bertha, muggle, works in factory, fled Austria under "Hitler," which is speculated to be connected to GR.
Family appears very close despite stress, financial struggle. Angela and Bertha argue often but show deep concern for each other and rest of family. Bertha nervous about muggle war, losing friends and neighbors. McCreadys sit to eat supper every night and spend much time together. May contribute to Mel's need for company. Angela states many times her wish is for family to be happy.
Because of close family and small dwelling, Mel prefers to be around others, in classroom or social setting. Often smiles and laughs, mimics disposition of mother, even when not happy. Family expresses fear of GR, "nothing good for muggles," hopes both wars will end soon, as they've been badly affected.
30/05/45—Walden leaves family and joins GR. Family in shock; Mel had no idea he was supporter, "makes no sense." Conflicted about feelings toward W, trusts and loves him but also betrayed, considers him traitor—
The sentence cut off; presumably, the rest was on the next page of the book.
A spot dropped onto the parchment and Mel realized she was crying. All this time, she'd thought Harper was shrugging her off, tuning her out. As it turned out, she'd heard everything. She was listening from the very first day they'd met, on the Hogwarts Express.