.

-O-

CHAPTER 7

Moe's Laboratory was not an ordinary room. For starters, it didn't always exist.

To even get inside, one had to face the tapestry with the dancing trolls on the seventh floor, think really hard about the room, and then turn around. With some luck, the door would be there, and the Lab would have anything a young inventor could need — plenty of parchment and quills, a variety of strange-looking instruments, books on every subject imaginable, spare parts—lots of spare parts—and even an alchemy set, which was somehow always stocked.

No one knew how or why this room had come to be, or why it was only there when someone thought about it, but Moe had speculated that it had been left behind by one of the more eccentric teachers. Larry was skeptical; Curly, however, had quickly decided that it didn't really matter, because no one else seemed to be able to get in it, and if no one was using it then it was alright for Moe to invent in there.

It had been a few hours now since the last rays of sunshine had disappeared over the horizon. Rose and Moe sat beside each other at the work table—which was covered with numerous sketches of yet-to-be-built ideas, half-assembled inventions and remnants of Curly-made snacks—trying to solve the mystery of the goggles the Cloak had left behind. She would write down possible enchantments on a piece of parchment, and Moe would test them, sometimes using some odd tool, but mostly relying on his wand. Because of his stutter, he'd learned nonverbal spellcasting—a feat most wizards were only starting to be taught in sixth year—from a very young age, so the two worked in complete silence. Rose didn't mind it. Growing up in Waltz Manor, there were whole days where she didn't have to say a single word to anyone. Moe's Beater bat was stashed atop one of the many scrap crates in the corner, along with the Bludger itself, which still shook its box occasionally. The torches lining the walls gave off just enough light to Moe's work table without disturbing the two teens sleeping behind him.

Rose threw them a look over her shoulder. She didn't know where the blue bean bag chairs had come from, exactly; Curly had simply said he was tired, and when he turned around they were just there. Larry's blond hair, usually tidy and neat, was sticking out in all directions as he dreamt peacefully in one of them, still as a millpond. Curly, on the other hand, was sleeping with his mouth open, face pressed against the blue material of the bean bag, his body twitching now and again. He mumbled something she couldn't quite make out and turned over, causing the quidditch goggles to slip from his head and onto his face. Rose stood up, careful not to disturb Moe's concentration, and approached. She gently took away the goggles—why hadn't he taken them off?—and placed them on the nearest shelf. Then, just as the thought popped into her head, her eyes fell on a pair of blankets atop one of the scrap crates. Rose was sure that they weren't there a second ago, but that hardly surprised her at this point.

She threw the covers over her two friends, shaking with silent laughter when Curly muttered in his sleep, "Come back, muffins, you're not ready yet."

Rose knelt down and gently brushed away some hair that had fallen into his eyes. Why was his nickname Curly, she wondered, if his hair was perfectly straight? Well, maybe not perfectly. But it was soft, and kind of…

Remembering herself, she backed away. Moe had stopped working and had twisted around in his chair, watching her. Silently, Rose returned to the table and took up the quill again. Moe didn't say anything, resuming his work, but his eyes did dart to her occasionally.

They'd been sitting there in silence for hours now, and when he cleared his throat and spoke a few minutes later, the sound almost startled her. "So, uh… Wh-wh-what did Curly m-m-mean earlier, when he s-s-s—when he s-said he had p-promised?"

Rose looked up from the list. Moe only threw her a quick glance before returning it forward as his wand kept tapping the goggles this way and that, making them flash in different colours.

When she didn't reply right away, his face gained the red shade of a ripe pomegranate, and he added, "You d-d-don't have t-t-to-you-you don't have to tell m-me, I was—I was j-j-just—"

"No, it's okay," she said quickly, trying to keep her voice soft. "I was surprised by the question, is all. It's not a secret, but it's..." She sighed. "You remember last Halloween, right?"

Moe, whose eyes had returned to his work, huffed. "You mean the n-night we all alm-m-most died?"

"Right." Rose was staring unseeingly at her list. "I was… after that night, I started having nightmares."

His gaze immediately snapped back to her. "You never s-said—"

"It was different then," Rose said quietly. "I didn't really know you and Larry that well yet. And when you go through something like that… it leaves a mark." She was quiet for a moment. "It started out as just me reliving that night. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see Larry bleeding out on the ground, or you, knocked out and motionless… And then… then I started dreaming of Curly. Dying. Night after night, it would always end up this way – instead of him saving Larry, he would be the one that got bitten, and no matter how hard I tried, no matter what I did, he just kept slipping away…"

She held up her hand, staring at it. Those dreams had been so real she could practically feel Curly's blood escape right between her fingers.

"I started dreading going to sleep," Rose continued, closing her hand in a fist. "I did everything I could to avoid it, and as a result I reached a point where I was barely awake during the day. So, I fell asleep in the Library one day. Then I woke up, and… he was there. I was still half-asleep, you see, so I still thought what had happened in my dream was real, and I was so relieved he was okay I almost cried. But, since he caught me, I had to explain it all. How I hadn't been able to get a good night's rest in weeks, how I kept having the same nightmare over and over again, and… how afraid I was that I would lose the only friend I'd ever had."

The memory made her throat tighten with emotion. She could almost feel him wrap his warm arms around her and say, "You're not gonna lose me, okay?"

Rose finally looked at Moe again and tried to smile, wiping the corners of her eyes. "It might seem silly, but to be fair, Curly is a magnet for trouble, when he's not causing it himself. Remember when he almost drowned that one time he flooded the Slytherin common room as a prank? Or that one secret passage he found that collapsed on top of his head? Or his insane I-can-totally-avoid-the-Whomping-Willow-on-a-broomstick stunt?"

Moe huffed again. "Five stitches after that one."

"The first time I really spoke to him I saved him from falling out a window, did you know that?"

He nodded. "The water balloon th-thing."

Rose shook her head, but a smile remained on her lips. "That might've been it, I think. His constant recklessness. He can heal his injuries and it's all gone to his head, making him think that as long as he can fix what's broken…" But what would happen if one day he couldn't fix it? Rose didn't finish that thought. "That day, at the Library, he saw how upset I was, so he promised he'd try to be a little more careful with himself." She sighed. "Try being the operative word. He's still careless to a degree I'm not entirely comfortable with, but… I know he does try."

Moe kept working on the goggles, but his brow furrowed in thought. "Curly…" he started. "C-Curly doesn't have a d-d-death wish or anything, but he isn't ever going to sta-stay out of trouble. It's not that he goes after the trouble, but he's a fun-l-l-loving guy and—"

"And I can't keep him locked in his dorm, wrapped up in blankets," Rose finished. "I know. And if I'm being honest… I don't want to? It's… it's strange, I don't know how to describe it." She ran a hand through her hair as Moe stole another glance at her. "It's just… I want him to be safe, but if he wasn't doing these things he wouldn't be Curly. You know?" No, of course he didn't, she barely did! Frustrated, Rose leaned forward, face in her hands. Wanting to change the subject, she straightened up and said, "Let's just forget that for now. Did you try the Tracking Charm on the goggles?"

"I did," Moe said quickly, all too happy to move on from scary, complicated conversations about feelings. He put down the wand, frowning at the goggles. "And the Disguise Charm, and the Repelling Charm, and everything else on your list, plus whatever I could think of. It's none of them! I know it has some sort of enchantment on it, but I've tried everything I could possibly think of, and all I'm getting are results in the neg! It has to be something… but what?"

Rose stared at the goggles, a crinkle appearing between her eyebrows. If they'd tried everything they could think of… they just had to try something they wouldn't think of. Or maybe, they were thinking about it all wrong. How did it usually go? Wand – need – spell. They tried looking for the spell by looking for the need. But what about the wand?

"Why would someone want to enchant a pair of goggles?" she said out loud, taking them in her hand.

"To see something, obviously," Moe said.

"No," she corrected herself, "why would someone enchant a pair of goggles when they can just perform the spell?"

He stared at her, perplexed. "Well, be-because… it's more convenient? It saves time?"

She shook her head. "But it's not convenient, is it? Yes, you could enchant an object to help you, but why would you do this to a pair of goggles you intend to use indoors and at night? They would impair your vision, if anything. Why not just cast a Tracking or a Revealing Charm on the spot, why enchant an object to do it for you? … Why do people usually get enchanted objects?"

Moe's eyebrows locked, and he stroke his chin thoughtfully. "Because the spell is too complicated? Because they can't do it themselves?"

"So then," Rose mused, "we're looking at a powerful spell, or a time-consuming one. Something not every wizard can do, or at least something that the Cloak can't do."

Rose tried to piece the clues together.

The grenade. The paper. The goggles.

There was something, something there, she could feel it. It was like a could slowly taking solid shape in her mind, a conjecture so wild and incredible that it had to be true.

"Well," she said, raising her wand. "Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth." The tip shone in a bright, white light, blinding them for a second.

"Huh?"

"Wha—?"

Rose and Moe turned to see that Larry and Curly had woken up.

"Did you crack it?" Curly asked, rubbing one eye as he sat up.

Moe and Rose exchanged a look.

"Not cracked it… Reversed it," Rose drawled. "To make sure." She put the pair on.

Suddenly, it all disappeared.

Her friends, the room, the light – everything. Rose was standing alone, in the dark, inside the ancient ruins of a crumbling castle. Lightning clapped in the distance as the cold wind howled and picked up her robes. Rose shivered, carefully walking to the edge of the half-demolished wall. Beyond it, she could see the bare, inky grounds, stretching for miles on end. Farther away, the trees of the forest swayed with the chilly breeze.

And then, just as suddenly, Rose felt a hand grip her arm, and everything was back.

She was staring right at Curly, who had the goggles in one hand, the other still on her arm.

"Rose, you're shivering," he said, passing them to Larry and wrapping one of the blankets around her. "What happened?"

She blew on her stiff fingers, gathering the cover closer. "It's a Reverse Muggle-Repelling Charm," she said. "It allows the wearer to see Hogwarts."

The boys stared at her, dumbfound. Curly turned around and looked to Larry for confirmation.

"The castle is spelled," Larry elaborated, "so that only magical people can see it. I've read in Hogwarts: A History that if a Muggle looks at it all they see is a mouldy old ruin with a sign over the entrance that says DANGER, DO NOT ENTER, UNSAFE. If someone's found a way to reverse the spell…" He turned the goggled in his hands thoughtfully.

"Don't put them on," Rose said. "The enchantment is very powerful, and it's freezing outside."

"Muggles in Hogwarts," Moe muttered. "That's insane."

"Are we sure it's Muggles?" Larry ventured uncertainly. "What if it's for Squibs?"

Moe's frown deepened as he threw his friend a glare. "Squibs can see Hogwarts just fine. My dad's be-been in here before."

"Oh, er… Of course, I, I didn't mean…" Larry stammered awkwardly.

"Also, Filch the caretaker is a Squib," Curly chimed in. "Can't work in a castle you can't see."

"That must be why the Cloak never does any spells," Rose added. "And why she uses Muggle technology. It all fits."

"She stumbled," Larry muttered under his breath. When the others looked at him questioningly, he continued, "I saw her stumble, the Cloak. When she threw Fitz off. She had her hand over her eyes and was cursing, trying to feel her way through the hallway."

The four grew quiet as the implications of this discovery sank in.

"These terrorists," Moe said. "They're Muggles, aren't they."

-O-

For the next few days or so, there was no sign of the Cloak. The four friends kept an eye out, but the world kept moving, and there was nothing they could really do with their new-found theory anyway.

"So he be-be-believes in destiny?" Moe asked at breakfast on Friday, listening to Rose and Larry talk about their latest book, No Country for Old Men.

"Well no, not exactly. It's not Divination as much as it's Determinism," Larry said, scooping some eggs on his fork.

"He thinks that every choice you make leads you to a certain point, and that's unavoidable," Rose elaborated. "It's the character's philosophy on life."

"You two read weird books," Curly said, shoveling some sausages in his mouth.

Just then, the post came in. Hundreds of owls swept into the Great Hall and glided over the students, searching for the recipients of their letters and packages. Larry moved the sugar bowl aside to make room for the large barn owl that landed in front of Curly.

"Oh hey, the new issue of The Quibbler!" the Hufflepuff said excitedly, removing the rolled up magazine from the bird's leg and leaving a few silver sickles in the pouch tied there.

"How can you still read that nonsense?" Rose asked, just as another owl arrived in front of her, delivering the newspaper The Daily Prophet.

Curly simply shrugged, opening the magazine. "It entertains me." Right on the first page, a big headline read: DEATH EATERS ON THE DANCE FLOOR: THE CONSPIRACY FINALLY UNCOVERED!

"What's this about Death Eaters dancing?" Larry asked, eyeing the cover with a raised eyebrow.

Curly quickly scanned the pages, then laughed and read, "When exactly did the followers of the Dark Lord decide to enact his true plan? It seems Voldemort had always intended to hypnotise the wizarding population of Great Britain with his own song, 'Eternal Winter', which, witnesses say, he recorded shortly before his death. Now, seventeen years later, his faithful servants who have evaded Azkaban have started playing it in packed nightclubs..." Here he had to stop and snicker again. "I love this thing."

Rose threw him an unimpressed glance over the edge of her newspaper. Moe caught her gaze and rolled his eyes at the article theatrically, which made her giggle.

"Good morning," a voice said from the left, and she turned to see the ginger-haired Carter Hightopp approach their group.

"Mornin', Carter," Curly said without looking up, and Larry gave a nod of acknowledgement next to him.

"Listen, Larry, my costume just arrived, and… it's not going to fit in my trunk," Carter said to his dorm mate. "Any chance I could use yours for the hat?"

"Sure," Larry replied. "Knock yourself out."

"Is this for Halloween?" Rose ventured curiously.

"Yes," Carter said, smiling. "I'm going as the Mad Hatter. This year the party is in Gryffindor Tower; Liling talked me into it."

"The hazards of befriending extroverts," Larry quipped. Both his, Moe's and Rose's eyes simultaneously slid over to Curly, who was still engulfed in The Quibbler.

Carter grinned in response. "Don't I know it. Are you guys going?"

Rose exchanged a quick look with Larry and Moe. "No, thank you. I think we've all had our fill of Halloween parties," she said.

"Because of what happened last year?" Carter said. "The chances of that repeating are a statistical impossibility."

"We'd rather avoid the statistics altogether if at all possible," Larry said.

Carter shrugged and turned to leave. "Your call. Thanks for letting me use your trunk, Larry."

"Yeah, not a problem—will you stop that?!"

Curly continued sharply pulling at Larry's sleeve, eyes glued to the pages of The Quibbler. The Ravenclaw turned his annoyed gaze to the magazine as well, only for his brows raise up in surprise a moment later.

"Wh-what is it?" Moe asked from his seat beside Rose, craning his neck to see.

Larry flattened the issue against the table and read in a hushed voice, "'Investigations continue', is what we keep hearing from the famous Harry Potter, the bane of evil wizards. But is he looking in the right place? Mr Potter refuses to believe that the recent string of break-ins were so obviously caused by Blibbering Humdingers looking for a place to lay their eggs, and had the entire investigation hopelessly running in circles. The latest of these incidents was last night, at the London Museum of Magical History, where Potter and his team dismissed the break-in as 'not newsworthy' as nothing had been stolen or broken, clearly neglecting the fact that the place needs to be emptied if we ever want to see the Humdingers nesting in there. Potter, who seems to be losing his grip on policing, was overheard speaking to one of his Aurors about the method used to bypass the locking spells suggesting a possible connection between this and the recent string of oddly specific robberies of magical objects his department had failed stop. This is quite silly, of course, as Blibbering Humdingers have no use for old magical objects. Everyone knows they build their nests from spoons."

Curly stuck a finger at the bottom. "String of oddly specific robberies of magical objects," he whispered. "As in, the kind the Cloak is involved in."

Larry looked from Rose to Moe. "Remember what you said? They never think to secure the doors against Muggle lockpicks. We never once saw her wield a wand, but if she and her friends are Muggles..."

"They've broken into the museum last night," Curly said confidently.

"How do you know it's them?" Rose said sceptically. "Because you read it in The Quibbler? Everyone knows that thing is full of nonsense."

"Not all of it is nonsense," Curly insisted. "Sometimes it's things that the Prophet doesn't think is important enough to report, or bits of truth masquerading as conspiracy theories."

"So what, Voldemort recorded a song before he died and now it's being played in dance clubs to hypnotize people?" Larry said flatly.

"You know what I mean!" Curly said. "Maybe it's not Blibbering Humdingers breaking into a museum to build a nest, but someone broke into it, and I bet you that there isn't a single line about it in the papers."

"Because nothing was stolen," Rose returned. "What is there to report; nothing happened!"

"Exactly," Moe said thoughtfully. "Why did n-nothing happen?"

The four friends exchanged a tense look.

There was shuffling around them as the students slowly picked up their things and scurried off to class, blissfully unaware that Hogwarts was no longer safe.

There wasn't anything that they could do about it, really, even if they knew. Curly, Larry, Moe and Rose knew, but what good did it do them? It wasn't like they could stop the Cloak and whoever else she was working with. Was she working with others? Would they have to call them the Cloaks?

"What did you get for question seven?"

The words barely penetrated the thick layer of buzzing thoughts around Rose's brain.

"Rose? Question seven?" Cat repeated. When she got no response, the Slytherin gently poked Rose with her quill.

Rose jumped in surprise. Her eyes focused again, and she shot the other girl an affronted look. Cat laughed loudly, which earned her a few shushes from the other three students in the Library — some exhausted-looking Ravenclaw boys. Cat flipped them off.

"Cat!" Rose chided.

The Slytherin rolled her eyes playfully. "They started it!" Rose gave her a sour look, and she apologised hastily, though it still had a hint of sarcasm. "Okay, okay, sorry. No more rogue behaviour before supper."

Now it was Rose's turn to roll her eyes, though a slight smile was playing on her lips.

"So, where are your thoughts wandering tonight?" Cat started casually, leaning once again over her Charms homework. "Down to the Hufflepuff basement?" Rose rolled her eyes again but didn't dignify that with a response. Cat sighed dreamily, sagging atop the desk with a cheek in her hand. "Can't say I blame you. Cute guys are a great distraction... Are you going to ask him to the Halloween party?"

"No," Rose said.

Cat immediately straightened up. "Aw, but why not?"

"Because it's all in your head?" Rose replied dryly. Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, "And I'm not going to the Halloween party."

"But it'll be fun!" Cat exclaimed. "Come on, you should loosen up a little for one night, what can it hurt?"

"It's..." Rose looked away. "It's a long story." Images flashed in her mind one after the other. A brightly lit party. Green toy soldier costumes. Running through a dark forest. The sounds of a giant, hairy body moving through the trees. Shadows of a fire, dancing in the night. Moe, unconscious on the ground, Larry, pale and unmoving, Curly's hands red with blood… "I don't really want to talk about it."

Cat tilted her head to the side curiously but didn't press the issue.

"Good evening, ladies." A gorgeous boy smiled at them as he approached through the aisles of books. He bent down to plant a kiss atop Cat's head before joining them on their table. "How's the homework going?"

Rose was sure that if a picture dictionary existed somewhere a photo of Maxon Rhodes would be right under the term 'Adonis'. Cat's brother was ridiculously good-looking, with bright blue eyes, warm smile, jaw chiseled by some Renaissance sculptor and a body toned to perfection through rigorous Quidditch practice. She'd seen him shirtless. It was like looking at a work of art.

"Rose won't tell me the answer to question seven," Cat complained, pouting.

"Well, if she tells you the answers to everything, how will you ever learn?" Max teased, earning a smack on the shoulder.

"What are those?" his sister asked, pointing to the stack of leaflets in his hands.

"For the Dueling Club," he said, holding one up. "We're looking for new members. How about it, Rose? Ever thought of becoming a duelist?"

Rose shook her head with a polite smile. "No, thank you. I've never had to duel before, and I should hope it stays that way."

Max shrugged nonchalantly but said, "Hey, you never know. Better to be prepared than to be caught off-guard."

"If someone ever challenges me to a duel, you would be the first person I go to," Rose said, though she did take the leaflet, just to be polite. "Until that day, however, you'll have to look for members elsewhere."

"Aw, man," Max said, looking down at the leaflet and scratching the back of his head. "I was kind of hoping you guys would help me out… Cat?"

"Too busy, big brother," Cat replied. "I have a costume to rock and a party to party at."

"Right, almost forgot," Max said, straightening up. "We're hosting this year, aren't we?"

"You mean you haven't picked out a costume yet?" Cat stared at him in shock. "The party is tomorrow!"

"I'll figure something out," Max reassured her. "Maybe I'll just take off my shirt and turn my skin white. I can pass for a statue, right, Rose?"

"If you stand very, very still," Rose replied, keeping back a giggle. "Although the sight of a shirtless you might cause a few heart attacks."

Max grinned impishly. "That's why we'll have Curly there. And you can assist him with administering first aid."

"I don't know about Curly, but the last Halloween party I went to is going to last me a long time," Rose said.

"Wait, you're not coming?" Max said, surprised.

Rose sighed, and Cat placed a hand on Max's arm. "She doesn't feel like it."

Max looked from his sister to Rose and back, but caught on that there was some reason that the two didn't want to let him in on. He smiled warmly and said, "That's alright. There's always next year, then."

Rose smiled too, choosing not to reply. She didn't want to say a lie.