Chapter 10: A Mystery Revealed

Thump. Thump.

He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. The roars and snarls were getting closer.

"Here…" she whispered. "Hide here and don't make a noise!"

Thump. Thump.

"But…mother-"

"Not a noise!"

Thump. Thump.

The sounds were getting closer. He couldn't stay here and hide; he had to fight!

Closer…

CLOSER…

Dante awoke with a gasp, dripping with sweat and breathing rapidly. He sprang out of bed, eyes darting around the room and examining the environment. A second later, he remembered where he was, and his breath began to slow down, along with his heart rate. He slumped back onto the mattress. That dream again… He took in a deep breath, exhaling shakily. "Sunday…" He stretched out to put a hand into the pocket of his hanging coat, withdrawing the bottle from within. "And I was hoping I'd get to sleep in for a few hours today, too." He cracked open the lid, drinking the delicious liquid it held rapidly. It only took him a few seconds chugging the bottle before it was completely empty, and he set it down on top of the nightstand. He gave a sigh of relief, feeling the cooling sensation run through him. It lasted all of ten seconds before he looked back at the bottle, frowning. "Damn…I think that was my last tomato juice."

He sighed, getting back to his feet and grabbing his shirt. According to the clock, breakfast was about to begin downstairs. He had to get moving before the window of opportunity closed.

Harry woke up, feeling as exhausted as if he hadn't bothered sleeping at all. The events of the day before had left him with neither energy nor patience. Not even the joy of flying had reinvigorated him; Quidditch practice had been horrible, since-

…

Actually, no. No, he wasn't going to revisit the memory of that particular practice. Once was more than enough.

Almost as bad was a letter from Percy to Ron, congratulating him on becoming a prefect while questioning Harry's sanity and hinting that there would be a "delightful surprise" waiting for them in the next day's paper. Harry was hoping that it would be Fudge's resignation, but something told him that he shouldn't hold his breath. And he was right, as they soon found out at breakfast.

" 'High Inquisitor'?" Ron read aloud from Hermione's copy of the Daily Prophet, a forkful of eggs paused halfway to his mouth. "What's that supposed to mean?"

It turned out, as they read through the front page article, that it meant Umbridge (the so-called "Inquisitor") would be inspecting their classes to make sure they were "up to scratch". Harry was disgusted that Umbridge would get even more undeserved power, and Hermione seemed reluctantly thankful to at least know the answer to why they had to suffer Umbridge at all.

Ron's face, however, lit up; he looked as if Christmas had come early. "Harry! Imagine her inspecting McGonagall and Dante! She'll never know what hit her!"

Even Hermione couldn't stifle a grin at that. Though it disappeared as quickly as she said, from behind her paper, "Oh, no; Sturgis!"

The Devil Hunter strode into the Great Hall, yawning loudly. He was tired, but relieved. He hadn't missed his chance; everyone was still having breakfast. He waved sleepily to the professors and Lady, eventually reaching the high table and flopping down into his seat. He began shoveling bacon, eggs, sausages and toast onto his plate, eager to get a meal in before he had to start doing "responsible things". Ugh. He liked teaching the little squirts; it was actually kinda fun, once he'd gotten the hang of it. But did he really have to grade papers for several hundred students on a Sunday when he could be teaching them how to poke demons in the eyes? …Maybe if he ever did find a demon around the place, he could probably talk Al into it…

Ah, well. Now that he'd gotten the important things in order, he could have a little fun before heading back to work. Having formed his food into various sloppy sandwiches, he took a large bite out of one and immediately turned to engage Umbridge in conversation. "Ahh…I gotta tell ya, they sure know how to make food in this place," he said happily, making only minimal effort to keep his mouth closed while chewing. "Compliments to the chefs, huh?"

He saw a vein throb in the ugly woman's temple, and mentally counted a point. It always pissed her off when his table manners weren't polite, so he made it a point to forget them around her. Now, if his back happened to make this difficult to see for half the table, and he happened to be turned so that only Umbridge would be affected by this…well, that was a complete coincidence, wasn't it?

He expanded his mental game slightly. He'd already established that a vein throb or talking through gritted teeth would earn a point, but it might be a good idea to count an interruption of her meal as two points. And maybe her refusing to answer could be two points too, since it needed more self control. Hmm…was there anything else he could add? He wanted to see what kind of score he could rack up by the end of the school year.

"Quite," she grumbled through clenched teeth. Hah! Another point, he thought to himself.

"So, you ever been to the kitchen? I'm kinda curious about the place." He took another deliberately large bite out of his breakfast sandwich.

She stood up. "Pardon me; I need to make preparations for classes." Deliberately looking anywhere but him, she marched past the student tables and out of the hall.

Huh. I must've REALLY ticked her off. He grinned to himself, and began taking smaller, neater bites of his food. …I'm gonna count that one as three points.

Dolores Umbridge made her way back to her office, smiling to herself. It seemed she had made her position known, if those children's faces had been any indication. Yes…her authority had expanded. She detested being a teacher in this castle; after all, she had better things to do than babysit cheeky teenagers. But now, she could do what she'd been waiting to do, what she had been eager for. Now she could begin weeding out the enemies of her and the Ministry; the impure, the useless, the seditious. Today was a happy, happy day; the look of shock on Mr. Potter's face had only served to sweeten the experience. Ahh…such a lovely day, and she'd only just finished breakfast! Even having to sit next to that ill-mannered foreign buffoon would not sully her wonderful, wonderful morning.

She swept through her immaculate classroom, feeling as if nothing could bring her down. She was Professor Dolores Umbridge. High Inquisitor Dolores Umbridge. Senior Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge. She was moving up in the world, finally getting the things that were owed to her, and everything was going her way.

As she reached out to touch the doorknob to her office, a blue-white spark jumped from it to her fingertips. She cried out in shock, but managed to pull herself together. Why, silly her; it was only a bit of static. She shouldn't let that get her down; she was enjoying herself far more than she ever had in this castle before. She smiled, reaching for the doorknob again. She was shocked again. A frown briefly flickered over her face before it was replaced with a smile once more. She drew her wand, opening the door with magic. She walked inside, making it about three steps before she stopped and realized what she was seeing.

Umbridge looked around her office in horror. Her mouth opened in an attempt to make some sort of noise (exactly which one had not yet come to mind), but after several seconds of silence, it closed again. It was difficult to say where to start looking first, so she started from the section of the room furthest from the desk.

The door area had several scorch marks dotting the wall surrounding the door, as well as the floor near it; the door itself, however, had not been damaged. This was why she had been caught unawares after opening it and seeing the state of the office. The burn marks was inconclusive in terms of evidence for a particular culprit; if their numbers were high enough, salamanders could do similar things. The size and severity of the marks were unusually large compared to the standard magical salamander, but every race had its freaks; perhaps they were merely larger than average.

One of the walls had a giant, angry-looking face that looked as if it had been cut into it with some sort of sharp object. She walked numbly over to the wall, feeling the outline. Yes; definitely cut into the wall itself. The depth and size of the marks would have taken a person years of hard carving to create, and the face had most certainly not been there when she'd been in the office the night before.

Her flower vases were completely intact, but the flowers within them were…strange. They all looked as if they'd been warped into twisted hunks of metal. She reached out to touch one, but withdrew her hand instantly; the angles of the metallic shape looked very sharp. She knew of no creature that could have this effect on plant life, but no doubt the rest of the office would help to lead her to the true culprit.

Every bit of parchment had been soaked through with water. There was no water around them, apart from the area under them where the water was dripping. No puddles or other forms of water were within the room, but that was hardly evidence when water could be conjured from wandtip. Yes…wands. No doubt this was some sort of plot against her; one of the residents of the castle must have been a relative of a werewolf who resented her recent contributions to legislation against them.

Well, that was no concern of hers; the monsters deserved to starve and die off, to leave the world that little bit cleaner for the good witches and wizards. If they resented her for it, they clearly could not see the noble, ideal world that she did, and thus did not deserve to share it.

But the desk…the desk was the most stunning of all. The entire desk and the chair next to it were coated in thick, jagged ice. From the look of it, the ice had also crushed several of the desk drawers into splinters. A thrill of fear ran through her; her quill had been in there. Her special quill, for keeping those miscreants like Mr. Potter in line. How was she supposed to punish them now?

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. This was not impossible to fix. She'd made the quill once, and she could make it again. It might take a while, but hopefully Mr. Potter would not forget his punishment for some time. She had seen the horror in his eyes during his last detention, the discomfort when she'd gripped his wrist (he'd almost seemed as if he had a headache, but no doubt he was trying to play it off as his "scar hurting", or whatever nonsense he'd been saying last year). Certainly he wouldn't be so eager to smart back for at least a few days.

She turned to the final wall, hardly breathing. Having seen the state of the rest of the room, she was expecting the worst. To her amazement, however, the wall with the ceramic plates was untouched. The kittens on the plates, however, were behaving highly strangely. Several were covering their eyes with their paws, and most of the rest were acting highly distressed. Only one seemed to be unruffled; it was a kitten with a red bow and white fur…

She ground her teeth together. Whoever was responsible for this would pay. She was Dolores Jane Umbridge, the High Inquisitor, and she would get to the bottom of this! As much as she wanted to believe this was Dumbledore's work, it just wasn't possible; he'd been at breakfast before she had. But the timing was too much of a coincidence: the very same day that she had been officially recognized as High Inquisitor, and her office was in shambles? She would find whatever monster or miscreant was responsible by searching for clues while putting her office back the way it was supposed to be; thank heavens she didn't have any classes today.

So it was that Dolores Umbridge, the just-appointed Hogwarts High Inquisitor, spent the entire first day of her new post furiously cleaning her office.

That afternoon, Harry found himself wandering back to the trophy room, almost as if on autopilot. He would rather have brought Hermione and Ron with him, but the former was currently knitting hats for house elves (which neither he nor Ron thought was a good idea) and the latter was finishing Professor Sprout's assignment. If he was honest, Harry knew that he had a bit more work before his own assignment was finished, but he'd found his mind refusing to cooperate right at the end of the final section; it had instead dwelled solely on the golden statue that had been revealed by whatever Professor Dante had used near it.

Of course, he would certainly share what he found with his two best friends the instant he could, but his own curiosity would not be sated until he'd made some progress on all the strange goings-on at Hogwarts this year.

He entered the room, passing the rows of cups, shields, plaques and medals until he came to the statue. He looked it over, mesmerized by the flowing loop of golden sand. Harry knew very little about art in general, but something about the artwork was oddly beautiful, despite (or perhaps because of) the lion's head. The entire thing seemed to be made of a golden material without rust or blemish, and something about it felt…alive, somehow, but not in a threatening sense, and somehow different from the suits of armour around the castle.

Harry noticed that words were engraved on the base of the statue. Those who desire to grasp the ancient ways and tools of war shall offer the blood of monsters in tribute. The last few words made the back of his neck prickle slightly. The "blood of monsters"? What kind of monsters does it mean? His mind flashed back to the red phial that had been in Grimmauld Place, and what the white-haired man had said. Was that really monster blood? And was this what he meant? He had said something about a statue… Absently, he began stepping closer to the object itself; something felt as if he was being drawn to it. A small part of his mind warned him to be wary, to not touch it. But wouldn't Dante have warned them if it had been dangerous?

He reached out his right hand to touch it without thinking. Inches away, however, his hand stopped as his vision caught the still-healing wound on the back of his hand. He paused, wondering just what punishment Umbridge might level against him for "defacing priceless treasures" or whatever such nonsense, even if the statue had been invisible until only a few days ago. But then the thought of defying her right under her nose flew through his mind, and with a surge of daring he stretched his arm out the rest of the way.

The most curious sensation stole over him; his eyes closed, and all his senses seemed to melt away, as if he were drifting off to sleep. And then…then, a most wonderful feeling washed through him; all his pain, his worry, and his stress disappeared. Something like a song seemed to echo through his mind and swell in his chest; it was not phoenix song, but it seemed to be having a powerful effect on him nonetheless. He felt…calm all around him. He felt peace. It was a feeling both nostalgic and new, and somehow he knew that no harm could ever come to him here.

A gentle voice whispered around him, and from him, and within him. "You are welcome here, though you are not yet ready. When you have retrieved life from death, and may bring death with life, then shall you be prepared."

He felt himself floating away, somewhat reluctant to depart such a place of comfort. But the stirrings of sorrow had no time to take root within him before his senses returned, and he found himself standing in front of the statue once more. He blinked, shaking his head slightly. That had been very strange, and yet not unpleasant. Harry turned and left the room, heading back up to Gryffindor Tower to tell Ron and Hermione about the statue. As he went, however, the words that had been spoken began to fade from his mind, much in the same way that dreams fade after waking.

And though he was able to give his two friends a detailed recounting of the statue and what had happened after touching it, by the time he'd reached them, he had completely forgotten that there had been any words beyond the statue's engravings.

"Dante…"

He ignored the voice, running the wire brush through the exposed chamber of Ebony. There were two hands that slammed on the desk in front of him.

"Dante!"

He sighed, before fixing a winning smile on his face and looking up. "Well, hey there, Lady. What's up?"

"Don't you 'what's up' me!" she snapped, glaring at him. "You know why I'm here!"

"Do I?" He turned his attention back to cleaning his pistol. "I thought you didn't need an excuse to come yell at me."

"I don't when you keep doing idiotic things," Lady hissed. "Why did you do something so reckless and stupid?"

"You're gonna have to be WAY more specific."

"Don't play dumb. You promised me, Dante. You promised!"

He removed the brush, blowing slightly on the section he'd just finished cleaning. Dante unlocked the slide, and it jumped closed. He gave a small, satisfied smile, holstered the pistol, and reached for Ivory, which was lying on the desk. His hand was stopped by Lady's, which closed around his wrist. "She deserved it."

"That's not the point! I don't care if she's annoying, or rude, or gives out detention like candy; you promised me!"

He looked up at her again, his eyes narrowed and his smile gone. "I didn't mess with her because she annoyed me; you really think I'm that petty? I trashed her office because she was doing some nasty stuff and I wasn't gonna let it slide."

She groaned. "'Nasty'? Oh, please; what could she possibly be doing under Dumbledore's nose?"

"Mutilating teenagers."

There was a deadly quiet for several seconds. Lady released his hand, actually taking a step backwards. "…You're not joking, are you?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

"…Shit, you don't. What was she doing?"

He picked up Ivory, ejecting its magazine and locking the slide open. "Harry's detentions apparently involved writing lines. Only…she was the one that was somehow writing lines. Well, actually, she was carving them." He grabbed the wire brush again. "Right into the back of his hand."

He cleaned Ivory in silence for half a minute, while Lady seemed to be thinking through something.

"Do you know how she was doing it?"

"I don't care," he responded flatly. "If she ever does it again, her office gets trashed again. I don't care what she thinks she can do to stop it happening; I'm not letting her lay another hand on Harry."

She gave him a look that almost seemed proud. Proud and almost…wistful. "…At least tell me it felt good."

"It felt good."

Lady let out a sigh. "I suppose I can't be too mad at you, then. But if she does it again, can you at least let me know before you get payback? I'm not thrilled about her hurting kids, either."

"Fair enough."

With no other discussion, and certainly no invitation, she pulled a seat up to the other side of his desk and dropped down into it. Pulling a cloth from one of her pockets and a knife from her jacket liner, she began working on her own weapon as Dante worked on his. They cleaned their weapons for nearly an hour, and never spoke a word the entire time. They didn't need to.

By that evening, a rumor of something happening to Umbridge's office had spread through the castle. The exact specifics varied wildly depending on who was telling the story: Hannah Abbot assured whoever asked that a pack of poltergeists had been rampaging throughout her office destroying everything in reach, while Colin Creevey stubbornly insisted that the entire room had been turned upside down and half-filled with water. The odd thing was, no one seemed to have seen her office in the state they were describing; the few people that had bothered to drop by to confirm the story had found the office looking relatively normal. The only thing that might support the rumor was that Umbridge was in a foul temper, but that could hardly be called solid evidence.

Rather than dwelling on this interesting new development, however, there was something else that captured Harry's attention that night. From the view he saw out of the window of Gryffindor Tower, there was a light on in Hagrid's cabin. He immediately informed Ron and Hermione, who joined him under the Invisibility Cloak before the three hurriedly set off down to the grounds. On the way, Harry could not help but feel both amused and sad at how difficult it was becoming to keep all three of them under the cloak at once; if they were to stand up fully, the cloak would expose their feet and lower ankles. It seemed strange to think that only a few years ago, it had appeared so much bigger…

They arrived at the cabin door, and Ron knocked eagerly upon it. "Hagrid, it's us!" he called out. To their slight confusion, the footsteps that approached the door seemed much lighter than Hagrid's usual footfalls, and when the bolt was drawn back and the door opened, it was Lady who stood in the doorway.

She blinked, looking outside the door for the source of the noise. "Okay, I know what I heard; who's there?" As Harry pulled the cloak off of them, she jumped back slightly, one of her hands moving inside her jacket and one towards her belt; she stopped once she'd registered who they were. "Oh, it's you. I appreciate the test of my reflexes, but what are you doing here? It's almost curfew, isn't it?"

"We thought that…Hagrid was back," Hermione said, looking highly disappointed. Harry didn't blame her; he'd been so happy to think that Hagrid had finally returned and they would be able to talk to him. "…What are you doing here?"

"Someone has to take care of Fang," she said matter-of-factly. "I'm not living here, or anything, but animals need attention just like people do. And if anything happens in the forest while I'm visiting, I'm not far away."

"Where are you living?" Ron asked.

She ignored him. "Well…come on in, then. Better to be safe." They stepped inside, and Fang immediately bounded forward to greet them. "I suppose I should offer you food or drinks, but I don't know where the tea leaves or whatever are, and you're too young to drink the stuff I have." The woman in white frowned slightly. "I'm not really sure what Rubeus usually serves here for snacks. I found this, but I can't tell if it's edible or not." She took an object from the table and offered it to them tentatively.

Harry looked it over for a moment before he realized what it was. "Oh, that's a rock cake. Hagrid makes those every so often."

"A rock…cake?" Lady raised an eyebrow. "Can't see how you eat the things; they're all rock and no cake."

Hermione looked guiltily at the other two. "Hagrid…tries. And anyway that's not the point! What are you doing in Hagrid's cabin?"

Lady frowned at her. "Like I said, I'm taking care of Fang. Seeing as how I'm filling in as gamekeeper, I'm around here anyway. So I decided to spend a little time with him." She dropped down in a chair, picking up several things that had been scattered across the table. With a jolt of shock, Harry realized that one of the things she had not picked up was clearly a pistol; from the gasp Hermione made, Harry guessed that she had recognized it as well. "Relax, I'm not going to shoot any of you. You caught me while I was re-filling magazines. Now, are you going to sit down or what?"

The three shared looks between themselves, before reluctantly taking seats. "B-but…" stammered Hermione, "that's illegal!"

"We're not technically under non-magical law up here, and even if we were, I've got permission." She didn't bother looking up from her mechanical task of feeding one bullet at a time into the magazine in her hand. "And anyway, you've all got wands that could do all sorts of nasty things to people. Some even worse than just killing. And you get to carry the things around with you."

Hermione opened and closed her mouth several times, but didn't manage to speak. Ron seemed confused and trying to work out exactly what was going on. Harry, however, had thought of something. "So you and Dante both have these? And Devil Arms?"

Lady stopped, looking up at him. "Well, we've both got firearms. But he's the only one with Devil Arms. Personally, I don't trust a weapon that can disobey the user."

They didn't get any more information from her after that; in fact, she barely spoke unless questioned, and seemed to be making it a point to use as few words as humanly possible. The three left about twenty minutes later, irritated, confused, and somehow holding two rock cakes each. They made their way back up to Gryffindor Tower, and not long after, went off to bed.

Despite Ron's assurances the next morning, that they didn't want to be late if Umbridge was inspecting Binns, the so-called "Inquisitor" was not present at History of Magic, nor did she appear in Potions. Ron muttered that this was hardly fair, given that he thought removing Binns and Snape would be the only service Umbridge could ever do for Hogwarts. Harry privately agreed, but felt that it might be best not to say so in Snape's own classroom, even if he was sure that the professor had not actually arrived.

Snape did show up less than a minute after their muttered conversation, and the class carried out in his usual manner. Harry received a "P" on his assignment, which was actually better than he'd been expecting, but he didn't dare show it to Hermione. After lunch (and a discussion about the O.W.L. grading system), he and Ron made their way to Divination. To his surprise (though it might have been because Ron elbowed him in the ribs to get his attention), Umbridge was in the classroom as well, and he felt sure he knew why. Sure enough, once the class had been set to their tasks, Umbridge was asking Professor Trelawney several questions.

Umbridge was still conducting her inspection even as the bell rang, and students began to file out. The final question of the inspection, or rather a request, was for Professor Trelawney to predict something for Umbridge. Had he not loathed Umbridge with every fibre of his being, Harry might have actually been impressed by that.

"The Inner Eye does not See upon command!" Professor Trelawney said in a horrified tone. She gave a noticeable tremble, as if this had been physically repulsive in some way. She also looked highly embarrassed, though Harry felt she was at least fortunate that only five students remained for her to be ashamed in front of.

"I see." Umbridge began to scribble on her clipboard.

"THE DARKNESS APPROACHES."

The entire class had gone deadly silent. The quill had actually fallen from Umbridge's hand in surprise as she and everyone else in the room turned to stare at the source of the voice; a voice that Harry had heard only once before, and recognized at once as being from Professor Trelawney. It sounded so far divorced from her usual airy, fairy self that it was as if another person entirely was speaking.

"THE DARKNESS APPROACHES AS THE BRIGHT SOLSTICE DEPARTS…BROUGHT ABOUT BY THOSE WHO WISH TO PROTECT, ENSURED BY ONE WHO STRIVES FOR BALANCE…THE HEROES SHALL VANISH, AND THE DARK LORD SHALL BECOME GREATER AND LESSER THAN HE HAS EVER BEEN BEFORE…AND ONLY WHEN ALL STANDS AT THE BRINK OF RUIN SHALL THE LIGHT OF HOPE BE KINDLED…THE HEROES SHALL VANISH…AS THE BRIGHT SOLSTICE DEPARTS…"

Lavender and Parvati were staring at Professor Trelawney with their mouths slightly open, horrorstruck. Ron had gone very pale, gripping his robes so tightly that his knuckles were white. Seamus gave a gulp that was both visible and audible.

Harry's eyes narrowed. He had heard Trelawney speak in this same way once before, and to the best of his knowledge, it had been while making a genuine prophecy. He saw the Professor's head droop until her head rested against her chest as the harsh voice faded away; almost as if she was nodding off.

After a few moments, she gave a small shake and raised her head again. "…Sorry, madam. I must have dozed off. Could you repeat the question?"

Umbridge gave a haughty scoff. "Absurd…to think that you would attempt such a pathetic farce."

"I…I beg your pardon?" She was looking quite confused.

"Prophecies are nothing but stuff and nonsense. Ghost stories to frighten children." She finished scribbling and stared at Trelawney, looking highly disappointed.

"Prophecies? Were we not talking about my class?"

"Don't bother to keep up the act; you're not very good at it, dear. I shall give you the results of your inspection in seven days' time." She spun around, clambering down the ladder to the classroom.

Harry chanced a look at Professor Trelawney while quickly gathering up his school bag. She looked both disorientated and upset, and Harry found himself feeling quite sorry for her. He had little time to dwell on this, however, as he did not want to be late for Defence Against The Dark Arts.

Umbridge seemed irritable for some reason, and gave the odd impression that she was deliberately trying to aggravate Harry. He did his best to let the insults and jibes wash right over him, made easier by the knowledge that someone (who he still didn't know the name of, but felt grateful towards) had supposedly destroyed her office. When he bothered to pay attention to her again, she was carrying on about their previous Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers.

"None of them, with the exception of Professor Quirrell, used age-appropriate material that would have endeared them to a Ministry inspection…"

Harry forced himself to be calm. No, focused; not calm. He thought idly of being able to lift Rebellion, swinging it with the ease that Dante seemed to have, Umbridge's head flying off her squat body… He shook himself slightly, and instead focused on his book, pretending to read. It was a thankless, seemingly impossible task, but he somehow managed to reach the end of the class without talking back or shouting. He briefly worried that his standards were falling, if he was jubilant about making it through a single class without receiving a detention.

The class immediately after was Defence, which seemed like quite possibly one of the best rewards for his earlier patience. The class proceeded much as he'd hoped it would; their practical tests on aerial demons involved markedly different spells than they'd used in the previous lesson. To facilitate practicing against an aerial target, Dante had very nonchalantly jumped up and stabbed Rebellion straight into the wall, and then pulled himself up to stand on the flat of the blade. While the rest of the class was shocked at this, Harry merely smiled, impressed at the show of balance.

They all tried their spells against him, but it was more difficult this time; rather than simply standing atop the blade, their instructor would dodge, duck, and perform astonishing feats of gymnastics with the embedded sword to dodge the majority of the spells. Some hit, though: an ice-making spell from Hermione, an Incendio from Dean, and Harry could have sworn that a Cutting Charm from Ron had grazed the white-haired man's cheek, but there was no scratch to be found when he took a second look. Harry, for his part, sent a jet of water at both Professor Dante and the sword he was using as a platform. The man's foot slipped when he tried to land on the blade, flipping backwards rapidly, but his momentum stopped immediately as he grabbed the hilt with a hand, raised above the sword with seemingly no effort.

At the end of the class, they were all instructed to prepare for the next class, where they would be focusing on aquatic threats. Harry could not see how they were to carry their spells out in practice without taking a trip to the lake, but looked forward to the class nonetheless.

When the bell rang, however, as Ron and Hermione left to go to dinner, he hung back; after their practical session, Dante had placed the sword on his back rather than back on the wall. He strode purposefully out of the door, and Harry followed at a respectable distance.

As expected, the man did not go down to dinner with everyone else. Instead, he walked up to the sixth floor, and as he did, Harry noticed that he was reading off what looked like a roll of parchment. The professor stopped at a small alcove, holding up the same object he'd held to reveal the golden statue. From the angle he was at, Harry thought that it looked like a large eyeball. Just as before, the wall rippled like water, and a door was revealed. Dante walked through, but left the door open behind him. Harry took immediate advantage of this, and followed him through the door.

The room on the other side was high-ceilinged and wider than he was expecting. It was also quite barren, save for a small, shield-like object on the wall at the far end.

"Well, what do you think?" Dante asked, turning around to stare at him. "You ever seen a place like this?"

Harry wasted little time lamenting his pointless sneaking. Instead, he walked further into the room, looking around. "No. I haven't ever seen a place like this before. Do you think we could use it as a new training area?"

Dante shook his head. "Now that I've made the door visible, anyone could walk right in. It didn't have a lock on it, just a handle; go figure, huh?" He motioned for Harry to follow him closer to the shield or whatever it was on the far wall.

Once they'd gotten closer, Harry noticed some words under the shield itself. A plaque read: "Thou who seeks Dreq's azure embers must guide the light of hope. Only when it reaches the end of infinity shall the fires be yours." He looked at the red-coated man. "Do you know what it means?"

"Basically. Stand back." Harry retreated several steps; once he had, Dante began slashing at the shield with his blade. Each time he did so, symbols lining the outer rim were lit with white fire. When the entire rim had been lit, a large symbol on the center flashed with brilliant light, and there was a rumbling in the room. Several statues began to rise out of hidden locations, and not just from the floor; some extended from the walls and even the ceiling. Nearly all of them were holding what looked like reflective dishes set at specific angles. The two exceptions were a statue that had appeared on one of the walls and a statue that had risen out of the floor. The first was holding a dish marked with an infinity symbol, and above its head was a small indentation in the wall blocked off by a barbed gate. The last was a statue with curled horns and slightly distorted features, which was holding a dish that was projecting a beam of light that was currently bouncing off of the nearest mirrored dish in front of it.

"Whoa…" he muttered.

"Yeah, these puzzles love their theatrics. And this is one of the tamer ones." Dante examined the statue that was in the line of sight of the light-source statue. "Hmm…these look different than the ones I'm used to. Actually, they kinda look like…oh, please no. Really?" He let out a long sigh.

"What? What is it?"

Dante had a deep frown on his face. "This puzzle looks like one I've seen in another castle, minus a few levers and plus the statues. The statues have to be turned so that that-" He pointed at the beam of light being projected from its origin. "Hits that." He pointed at the "infinity" dish. "Don't get me wrong, I'm good with angles, but this is a bit much even for me."

Harry looked the room over for a few moments before shrugging. "Well, shall we just try one and see what happens?"

Dante smiled. "Eh, why not? A better idea than just hoping it solves itself." Both of them moved to the first statue and tried to turn it; it remained firmly in place. "Ooookay…then let's try another one." The next statue could be turned quite easily, but would only rotate for a quarter turn. Depending on the way it was rotated, it could be directed to reflect the light beam at one of three other reflectors. The statues that held them, in turn, could continue the beam into multiple different directions as well; two of them reflected the light up towards the ceiling, and one reflected it at a wall. "…This is gonna take a while."

And so it did. It took them nearly an hour of moving around the various statues; thankfully, only one of the statues on the ceiling had needed turning, and Dante had made a tall ice platform to be able to reach it. When the beam of light finally contacted the dish with the infinity sign on it, the symbol lit up, and the barbed gate above it slid open, receding into the wall and revealing a glowing blue object.

"Don't mind if I do," said Dante, pulling the object out and showing it to Harry. It appeared to be a bottle of what looked like azure flames. Harry was reminded of the bluebell flames that Hermione was so adept at casting, but these had a somewhat brighter hue. "Well, that's one down. Congrats, kid; we just solved one of the world-famous Seventy-Seven Mysteries."

Harry's mouth dropped open in shock. That had been a Mystery?! It hadn't seemed dangerous at all. Nor could he see how a clever wizard could not have solved it centuries ago. Unless… "Dante, where did you get that eyeball thing?"

The man shrugged. "You're welcome, I guess. And anyway, that's a whole other story. I could tell you, but wouldn't you rather grab something to eat while you still can?" He stuffed the bottle in his pocket, saluting Harry with two fingers as he began walking to the door. "'Til next time, kid."

"Hey, wait!" But he had already left. Harry sighed. "No one wants to tell me anything, do they?"

Far away, in a darkened room deep in the Ministry, a map on one wall was decorated with a number of lights that shifted from one colour to another in a slow, steady rhythm. The two people who worked in this room were preparing to leave for the night, grabbing their Muggle attire and chatting with each other about their plans for Halloween. It had been a long day, and it was likely that the next would be even longer, so they enjoyed the small chance they could take to simply talk without worry of work. This of course meant that their attention was on each other, as it tends to be for any sort of polite conversation, and they left without reservation for their homes.

And because of this, neither noticed one of the pulsing lights wink out and die.

CHAPTER END

I was hoping to have this out about a week ago, when it was about 2,000 words shorter, but it didn't feel right to stop at that point. Sorry about that, but I hope you enjoyed the chapter anyway!

Hope you're all having a good summer; it's the longest day of the year, so more time to soak up those rays of sunlight. :-)