Memento Vivere
Chapter IV / Knowledge is Power
"It was Dumbledore!" Harry exclaimed, throwing his hands up, as soon as Sanguini appeared in his bedroom. "It was Dumbledore the whole time!"
Sanguini just stared at him, looking a little taken aback by being yelled at before he'd even had a chance to say hello and maybe a little confused by what Harry might even be referring to. "I'm sorry?"
"The wizards who've been hiding out around the house," Harry said with a scowl toward the window. "Dumbledore's been having me followed!"
Sanguini glanced at the window as well, although he looked unsurprised.
"I did warn you that might be case," he said as he calmly walked over to the window. He took one glance outside, frowned very slightly, and slid the window shut.
"Wait, Hedwig—"
"She will have to wait, if and when she returns," Sanguini said. He stepped back from the window and closed his eyes. "What I have to discuss with you requires privacy, and there is still a wizard standing sentry on your lawn. A moment, please."
Harry scowled at him, still wound up and in desperate need of someone to yell at and blow off steam, but he'd figured out early on that when Sanguini used that tone of voice, it was pointless to argue with him. So he stalked back over to his bed and slumped down on it to wait, although he didn't bother to look happy about it.
Not that Sanguini was even going to notice. His eyes were still closed and he'd begun chanting under his breath in what was probably Latin. As he came to the end of the phrase, the floor beneath his feet began to glow faintly, so faintly that Harry was sure that had the light been on, it would have been unnoticeable. Then as he began to repeat the spell, Sanguini reached into his robes and pulled out a small knife, which he used to prick his finger and send three drop of blood to the floor in time with his chanting. Immediately, the glow began to spread across the floor to all corners of the room. Sanguini started in on his third repetition and his magic crept up the walls, obscuring the view out the window, and across the ceiling, causing the whole room to look like it was bathed in moonlight that came from within the walls.
The chanting grew firmer as he reached the end of the line again, and the walls glowed just a bit brighter for a moment before the effect disappeared completely.
Sanguini carefully tucked the knife back into his robes. Harry was busy gaping at the walls of his room. It wasn't quite the same feeling as discussing Voldemort with his aunt in a brightly lit kitchen, but it was still very odd to see such a blatant display of magic in his bedroom.
"What did you do?" he asked as Sanguini walked over and sat beside him. And then he realized that Sanguini had, in fact, just preformed magic in his bedroom, at number four, Privet Drive, and he would have shot to his feet again if the man hadn't reached out to grab his arm and keep him in place. "Hey, wait! The Ministry's going to think that was me!"
Sanguini, however, looked entirely unconcerned. "There are ways to hide from the Ministry. We've had to become quite good at that, you'll remember."
True as that might have been, Harry didn't feel entirely at ease. He was already in trouble with the Ministry for defending himself and Dudley the other night. He was sure they would jump at a chance to make him out to be even more of a delinquent than they already thought he was, and they would probably try to expel him again too. His stomach still did nervous flip-flops when he thought about that first letter trying to expel him, and he hadn't even really been expelled after all. He didn't want to consider what the Ministry would try if they got wind of more magic happening around him.
"To answer your question," Sanguini continued, as if he hadn't just jeopardized Harry's chances of ever going back to school again, "I cast a privacy ward. I had to tie it into the wards already in place, but that should help to minimize the risk of detection. While it is in place, no one will be able to listen in on us."
Harry just stared at him. "What wards?"
"There are a half dozen wards placed on this house and the surrounding property," Sanguini said. "Ill-will wards, monitoring wards, a blood ward I've been meaning to research..."
"And I'll bet they're Dumbledore's, too," Harry said, feeling his irritation at the Headmaster come flooding back again. He got to his feet in a sudden need to start pacing again and this time Sanguini didn't try to stop him. "He's been having me followed all summer and there's wards all over the house and Mrs. Figg has known about the Wizarding world the whole time—can you believe that? Mrs. Figg...and now I've been attacked by dementors and no one will tell me anything! No one's been telling me anything at all since school ended! No, instead—and this is really great—instead everyone's been acting like I've done something wrong. Especially the other night. I get attacked by dementors and everyone's acting like it's my fault—"
"Harry. Enough."
Harry turned on him with a scowl, and then immediately felt awful for almost taking it out on him. None of this was his fault. In fact, Sanguini and his kin had been the only real bright part of the summer.
Sanguini spread his hands apologetically. "I'm sorry, I know this has been frustrating for you, and normally I would not mind listening, but we are a little short on time."
Harry felt a bit of resentment try to bubble up at that, not at being asked to stop but because they were always short on time and it wasn't fair, but he forced it back down again. He didn't doubt that they were short on time—or at least, Sanguini was—and trying to start an argument wasn't going to help with that at all. So he crossed his arms and, again, didn't try to pretend he was happy about it, but he flopped back down next to Sanguini all the same.
"All right. You said you had something to talk about?"
"More than one something, in fact." He paused, taking a moment to decide what to bring up first. "I've spoken to Christopher about looking into what Voldemort is doing, like you requested. I felt he and his family might be the best suited, since they are related to the Malfoys, and I trust them to only spy for us."
Harry nodded, his irritation ebbing a bit in the face of maybe finally getting some answers.
Of course, then Sanguini went on and squashed that bubble of hope almost before it had fully formed.
"It will take them some time to gain Lucius's trust," he said, and at least he sounded apologetic about it. "Lucius is almost surely aware that they are vampires, and that they've been somewhat estranged from the rest of the family for decades. He will undoubtedly wonder what made them decide to reach out to him, but hopefully it will lead to him trying to recruit them, as a large number of vampire allies are something Voldemort wanted very badly last time."
"And Malfoy would love to be the one to tell Voldemort he got him some new, powerful allies," Harry said. If he was anything like his son Draco, and from their brief interactions Harry was certain he was, Lucius Malfoy would be trying to suck up to his old master as much as possible right now. Voldemort had not be pleased with any of his followers, and that wasn't a position Malfoy would want to be in.
Sanguini smiled very slightly. "Most likely. So while he might be suspicious at first, once he learns they're interested in what he has to offer, that will undoubtedly matter more to him."
"But that'll take time," Harry said, repeating Sanguini's earlier sentiment.
"It will. But they are in a more unique position than most to quickly gain his trust."
"Yeah, but how's that supposed to help us know what he's doing right now?"
He knew he sounded ungrateful—and he was grateful that these vampires whom he had only met once were willing to risk their lives just to get some information for him—but Voldemort could start moving any time now. Harry couldn't understand what was taking him so long in the first place.
Sanguini placed a hand on his arm, as lightly as he possibly could. "Harry. I have looked into that as well."
"Right. Sorry."
"It seems that for the time being, he's looking into building up his forces again," Sanguini said. "And that seems to be all he is doing. He has, incidentally, invited us to join him again in the past few days. Those few of us who accepted last time have already gone back to his side."
"And that's all?" Harry said, feeling a little disappointed in spite of himself. It wasn't that he wanted Voldemort to start terrorizing people right away, but frankly, it had been what he'd expected. Voldemort hadn't had any problem killing whoever he'd wanted last year.
"That is all I have been able to discover. That he is overtly attacking no one at the moment, and he has no plan to in the near future. He would rather gather his strength again."
Harry nodded, letting that bit of information reform his current worldview. If Voldemort was just trying to gain his allies back, well, that was a problem, but it wasn't quite as bad as if he were secretly killing people or getting ready to. They would have time to prepare their own forces too.
"So, what does that mean?" Harry said after a moment. "He's come asking after you all and he's probably gathered his old Death Eaters again. He can't have done much, though, or people would know about it."
"I believe he has asked his followers to begin sending out feelers for anyone who might be sympathetic to his cause, and then begin convincing them from there. But his followers do not have to be willing, and he has probably directed them to begin the process of bewitching a number of people to his side, as well.
"He has also begun sending emissaries to various groups of magical creatures. Giants, banshees, hags, centaurs, merpeople, goblins, werewolves, vampires...all those who supported him fourteen years ago, and some who did not but might be swayed to his cause. Wizards have been denying us, all of us, certain freedoms for centuries, so while he might not gain the support of all of them, with the right words, he will be able to gain some of them. We are all also much less likely to let on to the general wizard population that he has returned."
Harry opened his mouth to protest, to say that was stupid, that they needed to be telling everyone if they knew for sure, but Sanguini shook his head and gestured for him to stay quiet.
"I am sorry, but there is very little trust between most magical beings and wizards, particularly wizards who seem happy with the Ministry. Voldemort is a wizard too, of course, but he will always state that he will help those creatures who help him, so they are more inclined to trust him and stand back to let him work. And, as he is a wizard, many creatures will see this as a wizard's matter and will simply ignore it. It is not something that will change overnight, no matter how you might wish it would."
Harry scowled at him, but he knew he was probably right. It was stupid, but that didn't matter. And what could he do from here, anyway? He couldn't just go out and try to convince anyone that Voldemort was back, much as he wished he could. He was already in trouble with the Ministry; he didn't need to make it any worse. He would just have to hope that those vampires who had spoken with him would realize that he wasn't crazy or lying to get attention, or that they would believe Voldemort's emissary; and he would have to hope that no more of them would join Voldemort's side.
He thought that while he had Sanguini on his side, they'd have a pretty good chance of that.
"All right," he said after a long silence. "Wizards probably wouldn't listen to them anyway."
"That is also true," Sanguini agreed with a bit of a smile.
"Yeah. Well, thanks. I know it probably wasn't easy for you. Or safe."
He almost missed it, but he thought Sanguini might have smiled even more at that. Well good. Harry had meant every word.
But in an instant, the smile was gone and a far more serious expression was in its place, and it was clear that Sanguini had more he wanted to discuss. And if he thought about it, there hadn't really been much they'd already discussed that needed such absolute privacy as he'd given them.
"Now, the second thing I wished to discuss." Sanguini shifted over so he was facing Harry a bit more. "I heard about what happened. With the dementors."
Harry blinked at him for a moment before moving to copy him. It was easier to stare at him this way. "How did you hear about that?"
Two nights ago, Harry had gone walking up to the park of Magnolia Road. He'd been talking these walks most afternoons when he wasn't taking a late afternoon nap; it did not matter how many late night visitors he had in his room, he still preferred to spend as little time in the Dursleys' house as possible.
He had ended up losing track of time as he sat there in the last remaining swing (Dudley and his gang had managed to break the other one, like they had all the rest), so that he was late enough walking back to Privet Drive to run into Dudley on the way. Harry had taken great pleasure in using the opportunity to antagonize his cousin as he had rarely had the chance to over the course of the summer, as generally their schedules did not line up enough to allow for it. But when he had the chance, it was always fun to take it; while Dudley did know that he wasn't allowed to do magic outside school, he was still terrified that Harry might decide to do it anyway.
But then, halfway between the park and the Dursleys', they night had grown cold and dark and two dementors had swooped down out of nowhere on him and his cousin.
He'd defended himself, of course, and Dudley, but the damage was done. He had preformed highly advanced magic in front of a Muggle in a Muggle neighbourhood. And while the Ministry apparently couldn't expel him from Hogwarts, they could and did suspend him and order him to attend a hearing later in the month.
It had been during that trip that he had learned that Mrs. Figg was not only a squib and perfectly aware of the magical world, but that she was in contact with Dumbledore. And he had also learned that it had been Dumbledore who had set the round-the-clock guard on him, although the wizard who had been meant to guard him that night had gone off to deal in some stolen cauldrons some time before the dementors had appeared.
"Dumbledore is not the only one keeping tabs on you, Harry," Sanguini said, allowing himself another, very brief smile. "Nor is he, incidentally, the only one with contacts in the Ministry."
Harry wasn't sure what Sanguini expected his reaction to that might be, but it was definitely to glower at him. Was everyone in the magical world spying on him?
"First I need to ask: are you all right?"
Harry had no doubt that Sanguini already knew the answer to that, or it would have been the very first thing he'd asked about period, but the thought was nice. It made him feel maybe a little less annoyed about having yet another group spying on him.
"Yeah. I'm fine," he said.
And physically, he was. But otherwise, he could have been better. He started feeling sick and restless any time he thought about his upcoming hearing and the possibility of really being expelled after all. He didn't know what he was going to do if he couldn't go back to Hogwarts. That was assuming he didn't get sent to Azkaban first, because he would have to hold onto his wand no matter the cost, and assaulting Ministry personnel would almost certainly get him locked up if he couldn't escape first.
Sanguini eyed him suspiciously, but whatever made him suspect Harry was lying also seemed to make him think that Harry would not appreciate being asked about it. Or maybe he was just running out of time again. That was very possible; he'd already been here longer than usual.
Either way, Sanguini continued on as though Harry had been entirely truthful.
"I do not know whether those dementors were sent by Voldemort or not," he said, swiftly crushing a hope Harry hadn't even realized he'd had. "Although I do think it is very likely. The dementors were one group of creatures who gave him aid last time."
"Yeah, I'll bet he sent them," Harry muttered. He had already considered that possibility in excruciating detail, usually when he was trying not to think about the hearing.
"Yes, well. In the end, it matters less how they got here, and more that they did, and Dumbledore is rather unlikely to overlook such an acute threat to you."
"He's been doing a great job so far," Harry said coldly.
"I think that, no matter how he may have treated you thus far, he will not be overlooking this. I do not think he would have left you here so long if he thought you might be in danger. The wards alone betray that." Sanguini glanced thoughtfully around the room and added, "Not that any of them would keep out dementors. Ill-will wards only detect conscious thought; they do nothing to keep out creatures who act on pure instinct, such as a cat or a hawk. Or a dementor."
"Oh. Well, that's great, then." Harry shot to his feet, suddenly filled with the same nervous energy that had possessed him for the last two days. "So Voldemort could send whatever magical creatures he wanted, and I'm completely vulnerable! Hell, it doesn't even have to be magical. He could just send a great bloody snake!"
"Yes, he could," Sanguini said, still infuriatingly calm. "No doubt, that is the reason for your perpetual guard."
"Yeah, Mrs. Figg said something about that. About keeping me from doing magic at all costs." Harry snorted and glared out the window. "Fat lot of good that did."
"Well, quite," said Sanguini with a faint smile. "Obviously whatever protections he has had in place have proved inadequate. Dumbledore would be remiss not to recognize that. And he is generally not a man to miss things."
"So...what? You think he's finally going to get me out of here?"
"Yes."
Harry paused near the window and turned back to him. That was sure what it had sounded like Sanguini had been getting at, but he wouldn't have been surprised to learn it only sounded that was because of his own wishful thinking.
"You do?"
"Yes," Sanguini said again. "That is why I came." He reached into his robes and pulled out two small packages wrapped in black cloth. "I would have come sooner, but these were not ready yet. Truthfully, I would have preferred them to have been birthday presents."
Intrigued, Harry walked back over to sit down and take the two packages when he was offered them. Since Sanguini had already given him a birthday present—and one that had been almost too much to accept at that—Harry couldn't imagine what this could be, or what it might have to do with him possibly leaving.
The bundle on top was about the size of a small paperback and just about half the size of the other, and Harry chose to carefully unwrap the cloth on it first. Inside was a dark blue velvet-covered box, and inside that was an oval mirror about the size of his hand, framed in delicate silver filigree.
"This is a two-way mirror," Sanguini said before Harry had a chance to open his mouth. "I have the other one. It will allow us to communicate without owls. Speak my name, and we will appear in each other's mirrors and be able to speak to one another. Or so Christopher explained when he brought them to me. It is an Arkwright family heirloom," he explained when Harry frowned at him in confusion. "Many of the old pureblood families have similar items."
"I can't take this," Harry said, shaking his head.
"He would not have given them to me if he did not want you to have it," Sanguini said. "This was his idea. He also enchanted it so that as long as it is being used, no one will be able to listen in on us."
Harry still felt a little uneasy about accepting something like this, but even without looking over, he knew Sanguini wouldn't take it back. So he nodded and carefully set the mirror back in its box to set it aside. It really was a good idea, to have something like this, although he would have to be careful about when he used it. But it would have been pretty suspicious getting letters from someone none of his friends knew about, and he doubted Sanguini would be able to visit like this wherever he ended up.
"This one was my idea," Sanguini said as Harry started to unwrap the second gift. A large, leather-bound journal slid out onto his lap. Harry took a moment to flip through it; it was largely blank. The only bit of writing was his name on the back, embossed into the leather in small, golden letters.
"This should work similarly to the mirrors," Sanguini said as Harry looked through it. "When you write in it, the writing will also appear in a book in my possession, and visa versa. It is also charmed to never run out of pages."
There was something about that that made him a little uneasy too, but it was a moment before he could put his finger on it. Then he realized that idea of writing to someone he couldn't see and get responses instantly on the same paper reminded him of Tom Riddle's diary. He knew, logically, that they weren't anything alike and that he would know, for sure, that the book would not be thinking for itself, but he still couldn't help his stomach squirming at the thought.
He must have shown some of his uneasiness on his face, too, because Sanguini immediately looked concerned. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah," Harry said, angry with himself for being so stupid. "I'm fine. It's a good idea. It'll look a lot less suspicious writing in this than sneaking away to talk to a mirror."
Sanguini still didn't look entirely at ease, and Harry didn't blame him, but he didn't try to press him on this lie either. Which was just as well; Harry wasn't going to tell him about the diary. There were certain things no one but his closest friends needed to know about, and Tom Riddle's diary was very high on that list.
"You may find there are times you would prefer to use one or the other," Sanguini said, leaving the subject behind them as though it had never happened. "Anyone will be able to see what is written in that book. And though you will not be heard, the mirror does not obscure you from sight."
"Right." He had been thinking about that himself, that he would have to be careful either way. "Still, either one'll be loads less noticeable than using owls."
"They will also be impossible to track or intercept."
Harry stared at him. "D'you think that's likely? Someone intercepting my post?"
Sanguini shrugged very slightly, but his expression had gone blank again. "I would rather not take the chance."
Harry nodded and looked back down at the two objects in his lap. He could definitely understand why Sanguini would want to be cautious. He might have been able to write Cedric no problem, but Cedric wasn't the "Boy-Who-Lived" and they'd also probably been writing long before Hogwarts; it wouldn't have been a noticeable up-tick in the amount of letters going to and from.
The real question was whether he would actually use these or not. Had he been planning to write Sanguini once he was off at Hogwarts or the Weasleys'? And after a moment, he felt that he could comfortably say that he had. Maybe not regularly, maybe not even once a month, but after the last few weeks, and particularly after the night of his birthday, Harry had a hard time imagining himself not writing him sometimes.
The bigger question, really, had been whether Sanguini would welcome that. And it seemed that, in fact, not only would he, but he had been expecting it.
"Thanks," he said when the silence finally started feeling awkward. "For everything, really, but definitely for this. I'll use them."
Once Sanguini had disappeared, with a promise to continue to gather information, Harry went into action. He agreed that after being attacked by dementors, he couldn't possibly have to stay here for the rest of the summer, but he also had no idea when he might be leaving. Someone could show up on the front stoop—or, more likely, in the fireplace in the living room downstairs—any minute now, and he wanted to be ready.
And it was a good use for the nervous energy he'd been possessed with over the last couple days. Rather than pacing about his room without a purpose, he set himself to packing, starting with the many vials of blood and potion that he'd taken over the last couple weeks.
He had been using the bottom drawer of his desk to stash them in, out of convenience more than anything, but he did not feel comfortable leaving them there if he was going to be going elsewhere. He would have to find a suitable way to stash them in his trunk so that they didn't end up all over the place. The best option would have been a small box, but if Dudley had ever kept any of the boxes his various toys had come in, he had never kept them in here.
In the end, he decided that the best solution for now would be one that had worked once before; he took several pairs of ugly socks that had once been Uncle Vernon's, carefully dumped the vials inside, tied the tops together, and then wrapped the whole thing in a Weasley jumper and stuffed this lumpy package into one corner of his trunk. Once he got to Hogwarts, he was sure he would be able to find or create a box, or he would just ask Hermione to create one for him.
The other trinkets and food he'd received for his birthday went in the bottom as well, be he kept the mirror and the journal for last. Those he folded carefully inside the Invisibility Cloak he had inherited from his father, and these were placed on top of all the rest.
Two days later, Lupin, Moody, and a horde of other witches and wizards appeared in the front hall, come to take him away. Away, not to the Weasleys', but to number twelve, Grimmauld Place, the very heart of the small movement against Voldemort. This family home of the Blacks' had been enchanted with every type of security measure known to wizards, both under Sirius's father and then by Dumbledore when Sirius had offered it up as headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix. Unplottable and guarded by a Fidelius Charm, it would be impossible for anyone who did not already know about it to find their way there.
It was here that Hermione and Ron had been spending their summer, along with the rest of the Weasleys. And after Harry made it clear how much he had not appreciated being left in the dark all summer (he had come very close to yelling at them, in fact, and was sure he might have if he really had been completely out of the loop), they had caught Harry up quickly on what had been happening...as much as they knew, anyway. That night at dinner, Sirius, Lupin, and Mr. Weasley were able to fill him in on considerably more.
To his disappointment, when it came to Voldemort, it wasn't much more than Sanguini had been able to tell him. Of course, he hadn't known that the reason Voldemort was busy working in the shadows and lying low was that he'd been counting on no one knowing he'd returned, and it was news that he was looking for a weapon that he hadn't had last time. But he had already known that Voldemort's main objective for the moment seemed to be building up his army again.
When it came to other things, however, he learned quite a lot, though there was still much of it that he and Sanguini had already known or guessed at. That the Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore were doing their best to recruit their own people and convince them that Voldemort had returned. That Fudge, and by extension the Ministry, was doing his best to completely ignore Voldemort's return and that he was behind the Prophet's attempts to make Harry out to be a troublemaker. That Fudge was afraid of Dumbledore and thought he was trying to stage some sort of coup, and so he was doing his best to discredit him too.
That night, Harry had scrabbled off a short note to Sanguini to let him know that he had been moved after all, that it would be impossible to tell him where he'd been moved to, and that he'd write more later when he wasn't so exhausted.
Living in the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix quickly proved to be just as frustrating as being kept out of the loop entirely had been, namely because none of the Order seemed keen on sharing any more than they had the first night. People flitted in and out the front door several times a day, and he and the Weasley children would try to overhear what snatches of conversation they could at every opportunity, but they generally ended up overhearing very little. Either the visitors were never there for longer than a couple minutes, or they moved their conversation down to the kitchen, or Mrs. Weasley was keeping an eye on the six of them so that they could not sneak away at all.
On the other hand, Mrs. Weasley kept them so busy that Harry's restlessness had a place to go. The house had not been lived in for several years and the Blacks' old, miserable house elf had not taken care of the place in just as long. It was up to them to make the place fit for human habitation once again, and the house was putting up a very good fight to remain derelict and infested.
At the end of the day, Harry usually found himself too exhausted to do much of anything except go to bed, but he dutifully spent a few minutes each night writing in the journal. Over the course of several nights, he laid out a basic idea of what the house was like and what it was like to live there, although he pointedly left out anything about the Order or who the house belonged to. Mostly he described what room they had decided to tackle that day and what had been in it, and what he thought the house may have been like before it had been neglected.
For the first few days, his was the only handwriting in the journal. He forced himself to not think about it too much so he wouldn't get discouraged—Sanguini was no doubt busy himself, and nothing Harry had written really needed a response—but he couldn't help wondering once or twice whether the charm on the journal actually worked.
Then, the night before his hearing, he opened the journal to find two lines of unfamiliar text waiting for him, written in neat and elegant hand.
Is there a library?
Good luck tomorrow. If they abide by their own laws, you will be fine.
Harry could not, of course, investigate the remaining rooms of the house tonight, but he made a mental note to look around later once his hearing had passed. He also scribbled off a brief thanks and a question of why Sanguini was wondering about a library. That was really more Hermione's area than his own, though he doubted even Hermione would want to go looking for a library in a place like this. If there was one, it was sure to be full of books that would make the selection in the Restricted Section look tame.
The next day, Mr. Weasley took Harry to work with him so he would be at the Ministry in time for his hearing. It was a lucky thing he had, because Harry's hearing had been moved up and he would have missed it if he'd arriving just in time for it; he ended up being several minutes late as it was.
It was here that Harry saw Dumbledore for the first time that summer, and he could not have been more disappointed.
Oh, he doubted whether he would have got out of the hearing all right on his own, since it seemed that Fudge had set everything up to make that as difficult as possible, and he was grateful for Dumbledore's help, but it would have been nice if Dumbledore had spoken to him after to congratulate him, maybe, or even just looked at him once.
In fact, he had been expecting Dumbledore to come by and have a talk with him ever since he'd arrived, to discuss the vampire presence in Privet Drive if nothing else. That he had not yet was both frustrating, because he would have liked to speak to Dumbledore, and also a relief—it meant that either he was not aware of anything more than the Ministry or that he did not particularly care. Harry thought the latter more likely, but he would have been happy with either if it meant Dumbledore was no longer ignoring him.
Still, it did not help the steady feeling of being ignored that had developed over the course of the summer. He did not understand why Dumbledore did not seem to want to speak to him at all, why he would flit through Grimmauld Place without stopping by to see him. And why, if he was not aware of Harry's new friends, he seemed to think Harry would be better off not knowing anything about what was happening. Or why, if he did know, he didn't trust Harry to keep certain secrets to himself.
There was no response from Sanguini in the journal that night, though Harry made sure to let him know that he had been cleared.
But there was one the next night, though it was, again, fairly short and to the point.
Congratulations. They really did have nothing to hold you on.
It sounds as though the house you are in once belonged to a Dark pureblood family, yes? They are very likely to have had a small library or a study with enough books to be one. They are also very likely to have books on magical creatures, particularly those considered Dark, which may be more detailed or more truthful than any you might find at Hogwarts. They are also likely to have books on law, though these might be outdated.
This was something Harry had not considered. While he did think that Hogwarts might contain some very Dark books, they would all be in the Restricted Section and he might have difficulty obtaining a note to get in there, and he also doubted whether anything truly horrible would be allowed into the school at all. A family like the Blacks was sure to have some of the worst books imaginable.
But could they also have better books on magical creatures? Harry rather doubted it, considering Hagrid's love of anything dangerous, but he had to admit, his curiosity was piqued. And it was clear Sanguini was curious about what there could be, and that was enough for him to start looking.
The next day, Harry posed the question to Sirius, as casually as possible, as if he was merely wondering what sorts of rooms there might be that they hadn't yet had the chance to get to.
"A library?" Sirius said, giving him a bewildered look. "No, no, no matter how great my parents thought they were, they never had anything like that. No...dear Aunt Druella and Uncle Cygnus, they were the ones with the grand house, with the ballroom and the great entrance hall and the private library."
"There's nothing like that at all?" Harry asked, feeling a little disappointed. He must have let some of that come through his voice—Sirius frowned at him and he quickly went on to cover himself, "So we won't have to deal with any screaming books or...or cursed books that make it so you can never stop reading them, or anything like that?"
Sirius laughed, waving one of his hand. "No, there's nothing like that, don't worry." He frowned in thought and glanced up at the ceiling. "I guess...there's my father's study. We haven't been in there yet. He had bookshelves lining the walls. Not that he ever read any of the books, of course, he just liked everyone thinking he did."
He turned back to Harry, still frowning, and Harry knew he'd been seen through. "I don't what you're planning, Harry, but don't go looking for trouble, all right? There could be all sorts of nasty things in there, not just books."
"I won't, Sirius, don't worry about it," Harry said, raising his hands. "Just wondering what might be left, that's all."
But he still took the opportunity to smuggle away a serpent-shaped candlestick, so he would have something to see by when he went to investigate once everyone was asleep.
That night, he waited for what seemed like hours for Ron to fall asleep. When the snores from the next bed became loud enough that he could be sure Ron was fast asleep, Harry carefully got up and crept to the end of his bed and the trunk sitting there. He opened it as silently as possible and carefully pulled out the objects on top: the candle and candlestick, his Invisibility Cloak, the knife Sirius had given him that would unlock any lock, and the box with the two-way mirror inside.
He was not sure if this would work—he had no idea if Sanguini would have his own mirror on him or if he would be in a position to answer it—but if he didn't, he would just try again tomorrow. This was one of those instances where he was going to prefer using one form of communication than the other. He did not particularly want to explore an untouched room in Sirius's house by himself, and it would be difficult writing in the journal while he looked through books.
Harry glanced one more time in Ron's direction. Absolutely sure he was asleep, he slid the mirror out of the box and carefully set in on his knees.
"Sanguini," he whispered as quietly as possible.
He did not dare light the candle in here where it might disturb Ron, and in the dark it was difficult to see even his own reflection in the mirror. He had no idea if it had worked.
But then, the surface of the mirror brightened and Sanguini's face appeared inside. It was rather like looking through a very small window; he could easily see his friend and the room on the other end, as the room he was standing in was, while not terribly bright, much brighter than the room Harry was sitting in.
Sanguini, it seemed, was experiencing something very similar, only on his end he couldn't see much at all, because he learned in very close, squinting at the mirror.
"Harry? Are you all right? Why is it so dark?"
"I'm sneaking," Harry whispered. He knew that no one should be able to hear them, but it felt more natural to try to be as quiet as possible.
Sanguini smiled slightly in understanding and leaned back again. "I see."
"Sir—Snuffles said there's a study, with books in it," Harry said. "It's one of the rooms we haven't cleaned yet, so I wanted some company while I checked it out. And I thought you might want to see it anyway. If you have time."
He knew long before he said it that he didn't have to add that last bit; Sanguini had looked intrigued as soon as he'd mentioned the study.
Sanguini glanced at something on his side, but then he shook his head at it and nodded once back at Harry. "You're in luck. You've caught me on a less busy night."
"Are you sure?" He really didn't want to drag Sanguini away from anything important.
But Sanguini just smiled again. "It's all right, Harry. I am glad you called on me. I would like to see the study. Although I'm not sure how useful I will be in keeping you safe..."
"You can tell me if you see any books you think might take my head off, how about that? Or if you hear anything funny on my end. You'll hear it before I do."
He tucked the knife and the candlestick into a pocket and pulled his Invisibility Cloak over his head. Sanguini jerked in surprise in the mirror.
"You have an Invisibility Cloak?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah..." He'd never actually mentioned it, and it wasn't exactly common knowledge, so Cedric wouldn't have known either. "Yeah, it was my dad's."
Sanguini looked even more surprised at that, but he didn't say anything else about it, so Harry put it out of his mind. He had enough to worry about at the moment.
He glanced one last time at Ron. Then he crept over to the door, unlocked it, and slipped out into the hall. He would have to hope that Kreacher didn't get it in his head to try wandering into the room while he was gone, because he couldn't bolt it shut again from the outside.
Sirius's father's study was at the end of the hall on the second floor, so Harry really had very little of the house to creep through. He paused by the stairs to listen for signs of life; he could hear a faint murmur of voices coming from the kitchen three floors below, too indistinct to make out what they were saying or who was down there, but this was the only sound other than the house's usual creaking and groaning. He could not hear Kreacher muttering to himself nearby either.
Feeling slightly less nervous, Harry carefully tiptoed down the hall to the closed door at the end. He tried the serpent's head handle and wasn't all that surprised to find it locked. If Kreacher hadn't locked it in a futile attempt to keep them from cleaning the room beyond, Sirius almost definitely had after their conversation, to stop Harry from doing exactly this.
But Sirius had also been the one to give Harry his means of getting inside. Harry took the knife out of his pocket, slid the blade into the crack between the door and the jamb, and moved it once up and down. There was a soft click and the door swung open. Harry quickly hurried inside and shut the door.
What he could see of the room in the moonlight coming through the window in front of him was about what he had expected from Sirius's brief description. Standing, dark and looming, in the middle of the room was a large desk, flanked by three chairs, one in the back and two in front, for guests. Set into one wall was a fireplace large enough to stand in. Two long, dark banners hung on a bit of wall on either side to the door. Every other bit of wall was covered in bookcases, and every shelf was filled with books.
Harry pulled off his Invisibility Cloak and carefully stepped further inside. He couldn't hear anything that sounded like there might be creatures in here, waiting to attack him.
"You'll have to move the mirror around a bit, Harry, if you want me to see anything," Sanguini said suddenly.
Harry started horribly. He'd almost forgotten that he wasn't completely alone in here.
"Right. Hang on a minute; let me get the candle lit..."
Harry fished the candle out of his pocket, stuck it in its holder, and carefully blew on the wick. All the candles in Grimmauld Place had been charmed to light this way since Sirius and his brother had been kids and couldn't just light them with their wands. The candle immediately flickered to life.
He turned the mirror around so Sanguini would be able to see where he was going and carefully moved closer to the nearest bookshelves. Many of the books did not have titles, or they were so old the titles had worn off long ago. Others had titles in languages Harry didn't know or couldn't read. Most of those titles that Harry could read were just as horrible as he had expected. As he walked around, he did recognize one or two—there was a copy of Moste Potent Potions, which Harry had become quite familiar with in second year, and A Guide to Medieval Sorcery, which Harry had looked at briefly the year before—but most of these seemed to be standard books that would be in anyone's collection.
Sanguini hummed in interest every now and then as he walked along the bookshelves, but he didn't seem to find anything interesting enough to point out to Harry. About halfway around the room, he did hiss softly and speak up at last.
"There's a rather nasty infestation of some sort of bug in these shelves. Move on, Harry, there's no need to deal with that tonight."
It wasn't until Harry reached the shelves on the other side of the window that Sanguini found anything worth pointing out, but when he did, he sounded a bit triumphant.
"In front of you, a little above eye-level, the dark blue book with silver writing. And nearer to your waist, the one that looks stained with blood."
Harry eyed both books warily. "You're sure they're all right?" He trusted Sirius's assurances that there were no cursed books, and he trusted Sanguini to keep him safe, but he'd cleaned enough areas of this house to know that it was always better the err on the side of caution.
"I don't believe they will harm you, no," Sanguini said.
Harry set the candle down on the windowsill and reached up to slip the first book of the shelf. Like all the other books in here, it was coated in a layer of dust, like the Muggle books he still had in his room back at the Dursleys'. Written on the cover in silver leaf were the words Unravelling the Web of Wizard Law
The other book, several shelves down, was indeed stained in something that Harry would have little trouble believing was blood. It, on the other hand, looked to be a book on Dark magical creatures. Harry flicked through it briefly; there was at least a whole chapter on vampires, and another on werewolves.
"Those should have more information than your school books," Sanguini said. "Although I would not be surprised if you could find either one in Hogwarts' library. The selection here is a bit disappointing; I had expected more..."
"Snuffles said his dad never actually read any of these," Harry said, but he was only half listening. His attention had been caught by another book on a shelf around his knee.
This one looked like it might be black or a colour so dark it might as well be black, and it too had silver writing on the spine. But this writing was the strangest Harry had ever seen; it seemed to swim in and out of his vision until he focused on it, and focusing on it for too long started to give him a headache.
He felt an overwhelming sense of curiosity, and he slipped it off the shelf without a second thought.
"Harry?" Sanguini murmured in the mirror.
Harry ignored him. He opened the book on his knee, slowly flipping through it. It was full of the same, swimming writing that only became discernible when he looked directly at it. This meant that much of the page was still shifting oddly even when he was looking at a part of it.
Now he was definitely getting a headache. He shut the book again.
"Do you know what this is?" he asked, holding the book up for Sanguini to see.
Sanguini shook his head, actually looking a bit confused. "I have never seen a book like that before."
That was not a reassuring sign. Still, Harry couldn't help but feel drawn to it. He set it on top of the other two books that Sanguini had picked out.
"Did you want to bother looking at the rest of these?" Harry asked, gesturing at the remaining shelves. After how long it had taken to find anything of interest, he wasn't terribly optimistic that there would be anything else, but Sanguini hadn't only wanted to look to find books Harry might be interested in.
"Yes, I would like—" He cut off, frowning at the mirror. "I think I hear footsteps..."
Harry stood up in alarm. "Is it on your end?"
Sanguini listened for another moment before shaking his head. "I don't think so. You should get your cloak."
Harry was already crossing the room before the words were out of his mouth. He grabbed his cloak and threw it over his shoulders. The door handle started jiggling as he made his way back to the window. He dove for the candle; he got it blown out and under the cloak with him just as the door opened.
And in stepped Kreacher, muttering under his breath like always. Harry cursed his luck and carefully got his small stack of books under the cover of the cloak as well.
"Who is that?" Sanguini asked. He looked less than impressed by the steady stream of unpleasantness coming out of Kreacher's mouth.
Harry glanced quickly over at Kreacher, but it seemed the charm on the mirror really did work the way it was supposed to, as he went on without any indication that he'd heard anything.
"Kreacher," Harry muttered. "The house elf I told you about."
He slowly stood up, careful to make as little noise as possible. He though he might be able to get away with being slightly less careful around Kreacher, who often did not realize others were in the room until someone said his name, but he didn't want to take the chance. Especially when there were now three open spaces in the shelf behind him that Kreacher might notice any second.
Kreacher started shuffling over to the desk. Harry tiptoed around the other side. He thought he might be able to squeak past Kreacher and slip out the door he'd left open.
He knew the moment that Kreacher noticed the missing books. His muttered speech became faster and angrier and he hurried around the desk as fast as Harry had ever seen him. Harry took the opportunity to dash over to the door and steal out into the hall.
Much as he would have liked to, Harry did not get a lot of opportunity to read any of the books over the next couple weeks. Mrs. Weasley still had them busy cleaning, although it looked like they might be reaching the end of it. Harry also did not want to pull them out while his friends were in the room, and not only because then he would have to explain how he'd gotten them. He'd also have to explain why, and he wasn't ready to share that secret yet.
And he especially did not want to tell them about the book with shifting writing. He was surprised himself by how much it drew him to it, by how much in interested something deep inside of him. He was sure there was nothing malicious about this, but he could just imagine how alarmed Ron and Hermione would be if he mentioned it to them.
The fact was, Harry thought the book was rather harmless for all its oddities, and he could not imagine what it might have been doing in Sirius' father's study, among such books as Magick Most Evile and An Argument for the Elimination of Muggles. The title, Riding the Wind, had made Harry think it might be a book about Quidditch until he spent a bit more time looking inside it. But what he had skimmed of one chapter seemed to be about the magic inherent in certain places, either because it had always been there or because wizards had lived there for a long time. Which certainly wasn't anything they learned about in school, but nothing about it screamed Dark Arts.
He didn't spend quite as much of his minuscule free time looking over the other two books, mostly because they, too, were not really what he had expected, and not for the better. The book on law Harry found extremely difficult to understand because of the technical language it was in; he would be much better served sitting down and wading through it than trying to read bits and pieces here and there when he had the time. The other did not seem to have much more information than Harry already had for his school book and the vampire essay Lupin had once assigned. It, too, would require a more in-depth study to glean the new information.
What those next two weeks did accomplish, however, was giving him the time he needed to decide that he wanted to start broaching the subject of rights for magical creatures to Hermione. Hermione would be the one most likely to understand, and she was a far better researcher than he was, and she had already delved deep into this area once before. He still didn't feel like he should reveal too much, but she might have an idea of where to start, and it would be a good way to see how receptive she'd be to the idea in the future.
And so it was that a couple days before the start of term, Harry found himself pulling Hermione aside after dinner and asking whether she wouldn't mind speaking to him privately for a few minutes.
"I...well, of course, Harry," Hermione said, casting a bewildered glance between him and Ron. "Are you sure you don't want to wait for Ron, though?"
Harry glanced over too. Mundungus had stayed for dinner again, and he was currently regaling Fred, George, and Ron with another tale of his less-than-scrupulous exploits. None of them seemed to have noticed that the table was beginning to empty for the night.
Harry shook his head and turned back to Hermione. "It's something Ron won't understand. I think it'll better if it's just us."
Hermione eyed him sceptically, but Harry had never known her to turn him down and this time was no different. "All right, Harry. Let's talk in your room; I think Ginny's gone back up to ours."
She led the way up the flights of stairs to the second floor where Harry and Ron were sharing a room. As soon as Harry had followed her inside, she closed the door and rounded on him.
"You haven't been fighting with Ron again!" she exclaimed, looking deeply unimpressed.
Harry wasn't sure if he should feel amused or annoyed that had been her first thought for why he didn't want to invite Ron along. "What? No, nothing like that. Besides, you'd know if I was."
He walked over to his bed and sat down. Hermione, still frowning sceptically, moved to sit on Ron's.
"I wanted to talk to you about S.P.E.W.," Harry said. It was probably the first time he had ever said the acronym properly, and Hermione's eyes lit up immediately.
"S.P.E.W.? Really, Harry?" Hermione sat up a little straighter and opened her mouth, ready to go on another tirade about elf rights. But a moment later, she shut it again and looked a little confused. "I didn't think you and Ron really cared for it much."
"Well, I'll bet Ron still doesn't," Harry said. He made that very clear any time Hermione started complaining about how Kreacher was being treated.
"What about you?"
"Well..." Harry trailed off. It wasn't that he suddenly thought SPEW was a great idea—he still thought it was a little too much effort put toward trying to change the wrong things—but he had a bit more appreciation for it now. But he also didn't want Hermione to start thinking that he was going to start handling out pamphlets and badges at school.
"Harry Potter, if you called me up here to convince me there's better things to worry about—"
"It's not that, Hermione, promise," Harry said, holding up his hands. "I'm just not sure how to put this..."
Mostly he didn't want to hurt her feelings. He must have betrayed some of that in the furtive look he gave her, because she immediately leaned back and stopped looking so aggressive.
"You can tell me, it's all right."
Harry nodded once, but it was several more moments before he spoke again. "It's just...look, I agree with you that house elves should be treated better. I can't be friends with Dobby and not think that. The stuff he used to do to himself just because he said something bad about the Malfoys, or because he was trying to protect me from him...well, you saw some of that last year. It was awful."
"It is awful!" Hermione said, nodding eagerly. "Punishing themselves to near death, just because—"
Harry held up a hand to stop her before she got too invested in her rant. He agreed, it was awful, but he wanted to go on before he lost his train of thought.
"Right, and I think that needs to change. But the other things, like paying...well, days off and sick days are good too, I guess—but if they really don't want it, then what are you going to do? You saw the elves at Hogwarts. They threw us out as soon as you started suggesting they might be wrong about things."
"They're just confused," Hermione said, although she was a bit quieter this time. "They don't know any other way to be. I still think Dobby is the best thing to happen to them; now they've seen how happy he is, I'm sure some of them will want to be free too!"
Harry shrugged awkwardly; he felt that any house elf who might want to be free because of Dobby was either off his rocker himself or otherwise would see how miserable Winky had been, but he kept this to himself. They were already severely off the topic he had wanted to bring up and annoying Hermione wouldn't help matters.
"I just think you might be better off working on the wizard side of it first. You know, convincing people to treat their house elves better, having them suggest to their own elves that they should take a day off if they're sick, that sort of thing. The elves are happy where they are. It's wizards like the Malfoys who're the problem..."
Hermione was frowning at him by this time, but it was more a thoughtful frown than an annoyed one. She said slowly, "You've put a lot of thought into this..."
Harry shrugged again. "I...yeah. I might've."
Hermione stared at him for another long moment. Then she sniffed and said, "Well, I think it's important that we start getting wizards to think about who cooks their food and cleans their homes, of course, but what's really important is that the elves want it. They just don't know that they should yet. It's more complicated than just getting wizards to treat them better."
Harry did not bother pointing out that what the house elves wanted was clearly not as important to Hermione or she wouldn't be making such a big deal out of all this.
"Right. Well. That's how I feel about it, anyway," he said lamely.
Hermione eyed him silently for a moment before she said kindly, "To be perfectly honest, it's more than I thought you felt about it at all."
"Yeah, well...I've been doing some thinking this summer."
He didn't miss the sharp look she gave him, but he ignored it.
"Anyway, this isn't really what I wanted to talk to you about. I mean, it kind of is. They're related, anyway..."
"What is it, Harry?" Hermione asked.
"Well, I know you did a lot of research last year about house elves and elf rights and that sort of thing," he said, trying to sound as casual as possible. "Did you happen to come across anything about other magical creatures while you were doing that?"
Her eyes narrowed at him. "Like what?"
"Well, like werewolves, or centaurs, or goblins—"
"Or vampires?"
Harry stared at her. She frowned right back.
"Or vampires," he said slowly.
Hermione's lips pursed into a thin line. She leaned forward on her elbows. "Harry, does this have anything to do with the vampire that was hanging around your neighbourhood at the beginning of the summer?"
Harry almost scowled at her. It seemed that his assessment of the letters that had come immediately after that had been right; someone (probably Kingsley, now that he thought about it, he was in the Order) had mentioned there had been a vampire in his neighbourhood and everyone had been concerned about it.
But Harry had told Kingsley that he hadn't seen anyone that day. It was a poor lie and he'd known that at the time, but he had that excuse. He could always pretend he didn't know what Hermione was talking about.
He chose to be honest instead. Hermione only knew about Lorcan, and only that one visit. He did not have to tell her about the others just because he admitted to this one that everyone knew about anyway.
"It might," he said finally.
Hermione now looked worried and anxious. "Harry, vampires are really dangerous! You know that; you've done the same work I have for class!"
"So are werewolves, but we still hang out with Professor Lupin," Harry snapped, unable to keep completely quiet on this. He couldn't defend them too much, or Hermione would know something was up, but he also couldn't just sit by while his friends were insulted. Vampires were supposed to be dangerous, yes, that was what all the books said, but he had never felt anything but safe while they visited him. Once it became clear they weren't going to attack him, at any rate.
"Yes, but that's different," Hermione said impatiently. "Werewolves only become murderous beasts once a month, and with Wolfsbane they can be quite harmless."
"Hermione, that vampire was only passing through," Harry said, biting back his anger. It would do not good to explode on Hermione now. "He didn't want to do anything to me. He didn't even know I lived around there."
"You didn't tell him!" Hermione gasped.
"I think he could've figured that one out on his own, funnily enough," Harry said dryly. "Seeing as I can't Apparate and all."
Hermione waved this aside. "Oh, but Harry, that's even worse, isn't it? What was he doing passing through a Muggle neighbourhood? Vampires are supposed to stay in the magical world. They can only enter a Muggle area if there's a large wizard presence—"
"From what it sounded like to me, wizards don't give them much choice," Harry said. And then before Hermione could speak up again, he quickly went on, "But that's why I wanted to know if you'd found anything about the rights of magical creatures. Because the picture he painted wasn't pretty."
Hermione bit her lip. "I don't know, Harry..."
Harry sighed in frustration. "Look, I know vampires are dangerous, Hermione. I really do. And I'm not just going around, believing everything I hear, either. But look at the werewolves. And the goblins; Lupin just said a couple weeks ago we've been denying them certain freedoms for centuries. And the house elves; they're mistreated too. Wizards don't exactly have a great track record on this."
Hermione was quiet for a moment. It looked as though she didn't know quite what to say to that. Finally she murmured, "Well, yes, I suppose that's true."
"I really just want to know, Hermione. They're people too, all of them—the goblins and werewolves and vampires and house elves—and it isn't fair to them to treat them like they're not. And then there's what Lupin said—that there's a serious risk of some of them going to Voldemort if they're offered a better deal. I just want to know why we're not the ones offering the better deal, why we're the ones who might be driving them away.
"And you'd be loads better at finding that out than I am. I'm good at the practical stuff, the spells and charms and blasting my way out of danger, but I'm rubbish at doing any real research."
Hermione smiled faintly and rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Harry, if you just put a bit more effort in, you'd be plenty good at it. You didn't have any problem last year looking up all those spells for the Third Task. It's the same as with your homework; I keep telling you and Ron, if you'd only try..."
"There's some homework that just isn't worth it," Harry said, thinking of the ridiculous assignments Trelawney liked to give out. "Anyway, that doesn't change the fact that you're the one who's really talented—"
"Are you asking me to look into laws on magical creatures for you?" Hermione interrupted. She still looked a bit exasperated, but she was blushing very lightly from the praise.
"Not...for me, exactly, but if you could point me in the right direction every now and then..."
"More like point you to the passages right under your nose," Hermione said, but she was still smiling as she said it. She sighed a moment later and went on, "You know I'll always try to help you however I can. If you're really worried that we might be driving some creatures to join You –Know-Who, then of course I'll help you. I've been meaning to dig deeper into the laws about house elves anyway."
Harry beamed at her. "Thanks, Hermione."
Someone knocked on the door. A moment later, it opened and Ron poked his head inside.
"Harry? You in here?" Ron looked around and his gaze stopped on Hermione. He looked a little bewildered. "Hey, Hermione. What are you guys doing up here?"
"I just wanted Hermione to look over that homework Snape gave us over the summer," Harry said before Hermione could open her mouth to answer. "You know, since school is only a couple days away now. No need to give him a reason to take off points straight away."
Hermione sent him a sharp look, but she seemed willing to play along for now. "That's right. Why don't you get yours out too, Ron, we can go over them together."
It turned out that Ron had not finished his homework, and he and Hermione devolved into a round of friendly bickering about this as he scrambled to find what little he had managed to do. Harry let himself get swept up into it, teasing both of them equally and just enjoying being in the company of his friends again.