Where was Dumbledore, and what was he doing? Christina caught sight of the headmaster only twice over the next few weeks. He rarely appeared at meals anymore, and Christina was sure Hermione was right in thinking that he was leaving the school for days at a time. Had Dumbledore forgotten the lessons he was supposed to be giving Christina and Harry? Dumbledore had said that the lessons were leading to something to do with the prophecy; Christina had felt bolstered, comforted, and now she felt slightly abandoned. The only thing to comfort her was her new frequent pen pal Fred Weasley and her ridiculously named pygmy puff: Lester Macmillian Corn Wallace the Third.
Halfway through October came their first trip of the term to Hogsmeade. Christina had wondered whether these trips would still be allowed, given the increasingly tight security measures around the school, but was pleased to know that they were going ahead; it was always good to get out of the castle grounds for a few hours.
Christina woke early on the morning of the trip, which was proving stormy, and whiled away the time until breakfast by writing back to Fred and mailing the letter via the Owlery only moments later. She met up with Harry, Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall soon after.
". . . and then there was another flash of light and I landed on the bed again!" Ron grinned, helping himself to sausages.
"What'd I miss?" Christina smiled taking a seat.
"Using more of the Prince's spells this morning, this time on Ron." Said Harry. Harry had already attempted a few of the Prince's self-invented spells around Christina and the others. There had been a hex that caused toenails to grow alarmingly fast (he had tried this on Crabbe in the corridor, with very entertaining results); a jinx that glued the tongue to the roof of the mouth (which he had twice used, to general applause, on an unsuspecting Argus Filch); and, perhaps most useful of all, Muffliato, a spell that filled the ears of anyone nearby with an unidentifiable buzzing, so that lengthy conversations could be held in class without being overheard. The only person who did not find these charms amusing was Hermione, who maintained a rigidly disapproving expression throughout and refused to talk at all if Harry had used the Muffliato spell on anyone in the vicinity.
"Oh no, what happened?" she asked, helping herself to food.
"Harry flipped me upside down!" Hermione had not cracked a smile during this anecdote, and now turned an expression of wintry disapproval upon Harry.
"So you just decided to try out an unknown, handwritten incantation and see what would happen?"
"Why does it matter if it's handwritten?" said Harry, clearly ignoring the rest of the question.
"Because it's probably not Ministry of Magic–approved," said Hermione. "And also," she added, as Christina, Harry and Ron rolled their eyes, "because I'm starting to think this Prince character was a bit dodgy." Both Harry and Ron shouted her down at once.
"It was a laugh!" said Ron, upending a ketchup bottle over his sausages. "Just a laugh, Hermione, that's all!"
"Dangling people upside down by the ankle?" said Hermione. "Who puts their time and energy into making up spells like that?"
"Fred and George," said Christina, shrugging, "I can definitely see them sells tricks like that in their shop! Harry's dad used that spell!"
"What?" said Harry, Ron and Hermione together.
"His dad used that spell," said Christina. "I — Lupin told me." This last part was not true; in fact, Christina had seen Harry's father use the spell on Snape, but she had never told Harry, Ron and Hermione about that particular excursion into the Pensieve. Now, however, a wonderful possibility occurred to her. Could the Half-Blood Prince possibly be — ?
"Maybe your dad did use it, Harry," said Hermione, "but he's not the only one. We've seen a whole bunch of people use it, in case you've forgotten. Dangling people in the air. Making them float along, asleep, helpless." Christina stared at her. With a sinking feeling, she too remembered the behavior of the Death Eaters at the Quidditch World Cup. Ron came to aid.
"That was different," he said robustly. "They were abusing it. Harry and his dad were just having a laugh. You don't like the Prince, Hermione," he added, pointing a sausage at her sternly, "because he's better than you at Potions —"
"It's got nothing to do with that!" said Hermione, her cheeks reddening. "I just think it's very irresponsible to start performing spells when you don't even know what they're for, and stop talking about 'the Prince' as if it's his title, I bet it's just a stupid nickname, and it doesn't seem as though he was a very nice person to me!"
"I don't see where you get that from," said Harry heatedly. "If he'd been a budding Death Eater he wouldn't have been boasting about being 'half-blood,' would he?" The second he said it, Christina remembered that Harry's father had been pure-blood. . . .
"The Death Eaters can't all be pure-blood, there aren't enough pure-blood wizards left," said Hermione stubbornly. "I expect most of them are half-bloods pretending to be pure. It's only Muggleborns they hate, they'd be quite happy to let you all join up."
"There is no way they'd let me be a Death Eater!" said Ron indignantly, a bit of sausage flying off the fork he was now brandishing at Hermione and hitting Ernie Macmillan on the head. "My whole family are blood traitors! That's as bad as Muggle-borns to Death Eaters!"
"And they'd love to have me," said Christina sarcastically. "We'd be best pals if they didn't keep trying to do me in." This made Ron laugh; even Hermione gave a grudging smile, and a distraction arrived in the shape of Ginny.
"Hey, Harry, I'm supposed to give you this."
"Why do people only communicate with us this way?" Christina asked looking over at the parcel. It was a scroll of parchment with Harry's name written upon it in familiar thin, slanting writing.
"Thanks, Ginny . . . It's Dumbledore's next lesson!" Harry told Christina, Ron and Hermione, pulling open the parchment and quickly reading its contents.
"Monday evening, Christina you too!" Christina felt suddenly light and happy.
"Want to join us in Hogsmeade, Ginny?" Harry asked.
"I'm going with Dean — might see you there," she replied, waving at them as she left. Filch was standing at the oak front doors as usual, checking off the names of people who had permission to go into Hogsmeade. The process took even longer than normal as Filch was triplechecking everybody with his Secrecy Sensor.
"What does it matter if we're smuggling Dark stuff OUT?" demanded Ron, eyeing the long thin Secrecy Sensor with apprehension. "Surely you ought to be checking what we bring back IN?" His cheek earned him a few extra jabs with the Sensor, and he was still wincing as they stepped out into the wind and sleet. The walk into Hogsmeade was not enjoyable. Christina wrapped her scarf over her lower face; the exposed part soon felt both raw and numb. The road to the village was full of students bent double against the bitter wind. More than once Christina wondered whether they might not have had a better time in the warm common room, and when they finally reached Hogsmeade and saw that Zonko's Joke Shop had been boarded up, Christina took it as confirmation that this trip was not destined to be fun. Ron pointed, with a thickly gloved hand, toward Honeydukes, which was mercifully open, and Christina, Harry and Hermione staggered in his wake into the crowded shop.
"Thank God," shivered Ron as they were enveloped by warm, toffee-scented air. "Let's stay here all afternoon."
"Harry, Christina!" said a booming voice from behind them.
"Oh no," muttered Harry.
"Here we go," Christina braced herself. The four of them turned to see Professor Slughorn, who was wearing an enormous furry hat and an overcoat with matching fur collar, clutching a large bag of crystalized pineapple, and occupying at least a quarter of the shop.
"You two, that's three of my little suppers you've missed now!" said Slughorn, poking him genially in the chest. "It won't do, I'm determined to have you both! Miss Granger loves them, don't you?"
"Yes," said Hermione helplessly, "they're really —"
"So why don't you come along?" demanded Slughorn.
"Well, we've had Quidditch practice, Professor," said Harry, who to Christina's fortune had been scheduling practices every time Slughorn had sent them a little, violet ribbon-adorned invitation. This strategy meant that Ron was not left out, and they usually had a laugh with Ginny, imagining Hermione shut up with McLaggen and Zabini.
"Well, I certainly expect you to win your first match after all this hard work!" said Slughorn. "But a little recreation never hurt anybody. Now, how about Monday night, you can't possibly want to practice in this weather. . . ."
"We can't, Professor, we've got — er — an appointment with Professor Dumbledore that evening." Christina informed Slughorn, happy again to have a real excuse although she would've happily lied.
"Unlucky again!" cried Slughorn dramatically. "Ah, well . . . you can't evade me forever, Chosen Ones!" And with a regal wave, he waddled out of the shop, taking as little notice of Ron as though he had been a display of Cockroach Clusters.
"I can't believe you've wriggled out of another one," said Hermione, shaking her head. "They're not that bad, you know. . . . They're even quite fun sometimes. . . ." But then she caught sight of Ron's expression. "Oh, look — they've got deluxe sugar quills — those would last hours!" Glad that Hermione had changed the subject, Christina showed much more interest in the new extra-large sugar quills than she would normally have done, but Ron continued to look moody and merely shrugged when Hermione asked him where he wanted to go next.
"Let's go to the Three Broomsticks," said Harry. "It'll be warm."
They bundled their scarves back over their faces and left the sweetshop. The bitter wind was like knives on their faces after the sugary warmth of Honeydukes. The street was not very busy; nobody was lingering to chat, just hurrying toward their destinations. The exceptions were two men a little ahead of them, standing just outside the Three Broomsticks. One was very tall and thin; squinting through his rain-washed glasses Christina recognized the barman who worked in the other Hogsmeade pub, the Hog's Head. As Christina, Harry, Ron, and Hermione drew closer, the barman drew his cloak more tightly around his neck and walked away, leaving the shorter man to fumble with something in his arms. They were barely feet from him when Christina realized who the man was. "Mundungus!"
The squat, bandy-legged man with long, straggly, ginger hair jumped and dropped an ancient suitcase, which burst open, releasing what looked like the entire contents of a junk shop window.
"Oh, 'ello, Christina," said Mundungus Fletcher, with a most unconvincing stab at airiness. "Well, don't let me keep ya." And he began scrabbling on the ground to retrieve the contents of his suitcase with every appearance of a man eager to be gone.
"Are you selling this stuff?" asked Harry, watching Mundungus grab an assortment of grubby-looking objects from the ground.
"Oh, well, gotta scrape a living," said Mundungus.
"Gimme that!" Ron had stooped down and picked up something silver. "Hang on," Ron said slowly. "This looks familiar —"
"Thank you!" said Mundungus, snatching the goblet out of Ron's hand and stuffing it back into the case.
"Well, I'll see you all — OUCH!" Christina used the dirt from the ground to form hands that pinned Mundungus roughly to the wall. Harry stepped next to her with his wand drawn.
"Christina!" squealed Hermione.
"You took that from Sirius's house," said Chrstina, who was almost nose to nose with Mundungus and was breathing in an unpleasant smell of old tobacco and spirits. "That had the Black family crest on it."
"I — no — what — ?" spluttered Mundungus, who was slowly turning purple.
"What did you do, go back the night he died and strip the place?" snarled Harry.
"I — no —"
"Give it to me!" Harry shouted.
"Harry, you mustn't!" shrieked Hermione, as Mundungus started to turn blue. There was a bang, and Christina fell backwards. Gasping and spluttering, Mundungus seized his fallen case, then — CRACK — he Disapparated. Christina swore at the top of her voice, spinning on the spot to see where Mundungus had gone.
"COME BACK, YOU THIEVING — !"
"There's no point, Christina." Tonks had appeared out of nowhere, her mousy hair wet with sleet. "Mundungus will probably be in London by now. There's no point yelling."
"He's nicked Sirius's stuff! Nicked it!" Harry argued back.
"Yes, but still," said Tonks, who seemed perfectly untroubled by this piece of information. "You should get out of the cold." She watched them go through the door of the Three Broomsticks. The moment he was inside, Harry burst out, "He was nicking Sirius's stuff !"
"I know, Harry, but please don't shout, people are staring," whispered Hermione. "Go and sit down, I'll get you a drink." Christina and Harry were still fuming when Hermione returned to their table a few minutes later holding four bottles of butterbeer.
"Can't the Order control Mundungus?" Harry demanded of the other three in a furious whisper. "Can't they at least stop him stealing everything that's not fixed down when he's at headquarters?"
"Shh!" said Hermione desperately, looking around to make sure nobody was listening; there were a couple of warlocks sitting close by who were staring at Harry with great interest, and Zabini was lolling against a pillar not far away.
"Harry, I'd be annoyed too, I know it's your things he's stealing —" Christina gagged on her butterbeer; "What?!"
"Oh . . . yeah Dumbledore told me that it was left for me . . ." Harry said awkwardly.
"Wow, didn't even know Sirius had a will."
"I don't think he did, I think Dumbledore just –er, divvied it out." Harry finished. Christina was staring him down: angry, confused, hurt, annoying, why did Dumbledore think she didn't deserve anything of Sirius'? She was the rightful heir to the Black Family!
"I'm going to tell Dumbledore what's going on, he's the only one who scares Mundungus." Harry said, breaking Christina's glare. She rolled her eyes, everyone always said Harry was Dumbledore's favorite.
"Good idea," whispered Hermione. "Ron, what are you staring at?"
"Nothing," said Ron, hastily looking away from the bar, where barmaid Madame Rosmerta just left for the backroom.
"I expect 'nothing's' in the back getting more firewhisky," said Hermione waspishly. Ron ignored this jibe, sipping his drink in what he evidently considered to be a dignified silence. Christina was thinking about Sirius and how Dumbledore snubbed her. Hermione drummed her fingers on the table, her eyes flickering between Ron and the bar. The moment Christina drained the last drops in his bottle she said, "Shall we call it a day and go back to school, then?" The others nodded; it had not been a fun trip and the weather was getting worse the longer they stayed. Once again they drew their cloaks tightly around them, rearranged their scarves, pulled on their gloves, then followed Katie Bell and a friend out of the pub and back up the High Street.
It was a little while before Christina became aware that the voices of Katie Bell and her friend, which were being carried back to her on the wind, had become shriller and louder. Christina squinted at their indistinct figures. The two girls were having an argument about something Katie was holding in her hand.
"It's nothing to do with you, Leanne!" Christina heard Katie say. They rounded a corner in the lane, sleet coming thick and fast, blurring Christina's vision. Leanne made to grab hold of the package Katie was holding; Katie tugged it back and the package fell to the ground.
At once, Katie rose into the air, not as Snape had done in the Pensieve, suspended comically by the ankle, but gracefully, her arms outstretched, as though she was about to fly. Yet there was something wrong, something eerie. . . . Her hair was whipped around her by the fierce wind, but her eyes were closed and her face was quite empty of expression. Christina, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Leanne had all halted in their tracks, watching. Then, six feet above the ground, Katie let out a terrible scream. Her eyes flew open but whatever she could see, or whatever she was feeling, was clearly causing her terrible anguish. Christina turned to Harry, Ron and Hermione unsure of what to do. Christina looked around, making sure she didn't have spectators and then rose from the ground, lifting the dirt under her shoes to hold her up. She grabbed Katie in a bear hug and brought her back down to the ground. She screamed and screamed; Leanne started to scream too, Katie was writhing so much they could hardly hold her. Christina pegged down her arms and legs with rock holds and Katie thrashed and screamed, apparently unable to recognize any of them.
"We have to take her to someone!" Hermione shouted over the yelling. Christina then without a word kept Katie pinned down and soared upward carrying Katie. Christina flew as fast as she could but it was incredibly difficult with the wind. What on earth could have happened, and why to Katie Bell? Christina had known Katie for years and never knew her to have any problems other than missing a goal in Quidditch . . .
Christina landed on the steps of the castle to a still screaming and writing Katie, struggling against Christina's restraints. She hoped a teacher would be close by but couldn't find anyone, so she went to dissolve both herself and Katie and pelt through the walls but Katie's body wouldn't break down like hers could. There was something holding onto Katie, something inside her. This had only happened to Christina once in her life, when Harry was being possessed by Voldemort.
With a new sense of panic, she flew upwards through past the moving staircases and burst through every door she could to get to the hospital wing.
"There's something wrong with Katie!" Christina laid Katie down on a bed and Madame Pomfrey came rushing over.
"What happened?" she began strapping Katie down to the bed and rummaged through her medicine cabinet.
"I don't know, she flew up in the air and started screaming! I think," Christina paused and looked around, the only other person there was sleeping, "I think she's possessed by Voldemort" Madame Pomfrey gasped and shook her head.
"I will help her, you go and get Professor Dumbledore!" and without another word Christina went to dust and pelted through the walls to Dumbledore's office, empty. Shit! Christina thought. She then left and went for the only other person she trusted, Professor McGonagall. She rematerialized herself in front of Professor McGonagall who was at her desk grading papers.
"Bataskill! You have no right-!"
"I think Katie Bell is being possessed by Voldemort! She's in the hospital wing, we can't get her to stop screaming and freaking out—" Professor McGonagall rose from her chair at once and went to the door.
"You said the hospital wing, Bataskill?"
"Yes, I can get you there quicker if you want." Christina offered, she had never transported a teacher like the way she did with herself and her friends but this was a dire situation.
"Very well then." Christina awkwardly grabbed Professor McGonagall's arm and with her natural powers broke down their bodies to soar through the walls of Hogwarts. Within seconds they were back in the hospital wing. Bodies whole again. Professor McGonagall, taken aback by the odd sensation shook her head and then rushed to Katie's bedside, she was no longer screaming but her body was still contorting violently.
"Bataskill, if you could please head back to my office and I will meet you there." Christina was shocked. "But-!"
"Please, I will handle this. My office." Christina huffed in annoyance but left again through the walls. Sitting in Professor McGonagall's office without her there was a very odd experience, almost eery. Christina tried to shut down every urge to rummage through McGonagall's things and then laughed at what Fred would say if she did. Probably be proud and then offer to prank her filing cabinets . . . About twenty minutes later, Christina was very shocked and confused to find Harry, Ron, Hermione, a still sobbing Leanne and Professor McGonagall come in.
"Well?" she said sharply. "What happened?" Haltingly, and with many pauses while she attempted to control her crying, Leanne told Professor McGonagall how Katie had gone to the bathroom in the Three Broomsticks and returned holding the unmarked package, how Katie had seemed a little odd, and how they had argued about the advisability of agreeing to deliver unknown objects, the argument culminating in the tussle over the parcel, which tore open. At this point, Leanne was so overcome, there was no getting another word out of her.
"Ohh, so . . ." Christina suddenly realized how disastrously wrong her first guess was.
"Not possession." Professor McGonagall said through pursed lips.
"Right." Christina said deflated.
"You thought she was possessed?" said Ron.
"I tried to, you know, make her body into little pieces so I could get her through the castle faster but she wouldn't budge like you didn't when . . . you know" Christina explained.
"All right," said Professor McGonagall, not unkindly, "go up to the hospital wing, please, Leanne, and get Madam Pomfrey to give you something for shock." When she had left the room, Professor McGonagall turned back to Christina, Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
"What happened when Katie touched the necklace?"
"She rose up in the air," said Harry, before Christina, Ron or Hermione could speak, "and then began to scream, and collapsed. Professor, can I see Professor Dumbledore, please?"
"He's not here I already checked." Said Christina.
"But anything you have to say about this horrible business can be said to me, I'm sure!" Harry hesitated. "I think Draco Malfoy gave Katie that necklace, Professor." Christina tightened her lips, ready for a talking to, Ron rubbed his nose in apparent embarrassment, and Hermione shuffled her feet as though quite keen to put a bit of distance between herself and Harry.
"That is a very serious accusation, Potter," said Professor McGonagall, after a shocked pause. "Do you have any proof?"
"No," said Harry, "but . . ." and he told her about following Malfoy to Borgin and Burkes and the conversation they had overheard between him and Mr. Borgin. When he had finished speaking, Professor McGonagall looked slightly confused. "Malfoy took something to Borgin and Burkes for repair?"
"No, Professor, he just wanted Borgin to tell him how to mend something, he didn't have it with him. But that's not the point, the thing is that he bought something at the same time, and I think it was that necklace —"
"You saw Malfoy leaving the shop with a similar package?"
"No, Professor, he told Borgin to keep it in the shop for him —"
"But Harry," Hermione interrupted, "Borgin asked him if he wanted to take it with him, and Malfoy said no —"
"Because he didn't want to touch it, obviously!" said Harry angrily.
"What he actually said was, 'How would I look carrying that down the street?' " said Hermione.
"Well, he would look a bit of a prat carrying a necklace," interjected Ron.
"Oh, Ron," said Hermione despairingly, "it would be all wrapped up, so he wouldn't have to touch it, and quite easy to hide inside a cloak, so nobody would see it! I think whatever he reserved at Borgin and Burkes was noisy or bulky, something he knew would draw attention to him if he carried it down the street — and in any case," she pressed on loudly, before Harry could interrupt, "I asked Borgin about the necklace, don't you remember? When I went in to try and find out what Malfoy had asked him to keep, I saw it there. And Borgin just told me the price, he didn't say it was already sold or anything —"
"Well, you were being really obvious, he realized what you were up to within about five seconds, of course he wasn't going to tell you — anyway, Malfoy could've sent off for it since —"
"That's enough!" said Professor McGonagall, as Hermione opened her mouth to retort, looking furious. "Potter, I appreciate you telling me this, but we cannot point the finger of blame at Mr. Malfoy purely because he visited the shop where this necklace might have been purchased. The same is probably true of hundreds of people —"
"— that's what I said —" muttered Ron.
"— and in any case, we have put stringent security measures in place this year. I do not believe that necklace can possibly have entered this school without our knowledge —"
"But —"
"— and what is more," said Professor McGonagall, with an air of awful finality, "Mr. Malfoy was not in Hogsmeade today." Harry gaped at her, deflating.
"How do you know, Professor?"
"Because he was doing detention with me. He has now failed to complete his Transfiguration homework twice in a row. So, thank you for telling me your suspicions, Potter," she said as she marched past them, "but I need to go up to the hospital wing now to check on Katie Bell. Good day to you all." She held open her office door. They had no choice but to file past her without another word.
"So who do you reckon Katie was supposed to give the necklace to?" asked Christina, as they climbed the stairs to the common room.
"Goodness only knows," said Hermione. "But whoever it was has had a narrow escape. No one could have opened that package without touching the necklace."
"It could've been meant for loads of people," said Harry. "Dumbledore — the Death Eaters would love to get rid of him, he must be one of their top targets. Or Slughorn — Dumbledore reckons Voldemort really wanted him and they can't be pleased that he's sided with Dumbledore. Or —"
"Or you or Christina," said Hermione, looking troubled.
"Couldn't have been," said Christina, "or Katie would've just turned around in the lane and given it to me, wouldn't she? We were behind her all the way out of the Three Broomsticks." Harry jumped in as well, "Yeah, it would have made much more sense to deliver the parcel outside Hogwarts, what with Filch searching everyone who goes in and out. I wonder why Malfoy told her to take it into the castle?"
"Harry, Malfoy wasn't in Hogsmeade!" said Hermione, actually stamping her foot in frustration.
"He must have used an accomplice, then," said Harry. "Crabbe or Goyle — or, come to think of it, another Death Eater, he'll have loads better cronies than Crabbe and Goyle now he's joined up —"
Christina, Ron and Hermione exchanged looks that plainly said There's no point arguing with him.
"Dilligrout," said Hermione firmly as they reached the Fat Lady. The portrait swung open to admit them to the common room. It was quite full and smelled of damp clothing; many people seemed to have returned from Hogsmeade early because of the bad weather. There was no buzz of fear or speculation, however: Clearly, the news of Katie's fate had not yet spread.
"It wasn't a very slick attack, really, when you stop and think about it," said Ron, casually turfing a first year out of one of the good armchairs by the fire so that he could sit down. "The curse didn't even make it into the castle. Not what you'd call foolproof."
"You're right," said Hermione, prodding Ron out of the chair with her foot and offering it to the first year again. "It wasn't very well thought-out at all."
"But since when has Malfoy been one of the world's great thinkers?" asked Harry. Christina threw a book at him, "Harry I swear to fucking god."