That evening the three friends gathered in a quiet corner of the library. "If Snape is in on this," Ron had said, "we'd better figure out what to do about it. And not just for your sake either, Harry." Harry knew he was referring to Hecate.
As Harry reviewed the evidence from the start, Hermione examined the windowsill block. After he finished, she ran her finger along the seam between the original and refrozen regions.
"He must have been awfully sure of himself, to try to take Dumbledore's power," she mused. "Everyone knew how powerful he was; he even challenged Voldemort to a duel."
"It fits, though," mused Harry. "Remember what Dumbledore told Malfoy – that he was taking the potion to boost his powers? Maybe his powers had faded, enough that Voldemort thought he had a chance to grab them. Especially after the potion weakened him." He hesitated. "If it really did."
"It didn't." Hermione pushed a sheaf of papers across the table to him. "I'm sure it's the other potion. Remember, we only picked that first one because it was in English. But look here." She pointed to a line. "This thing that looks like a flat 'b', it's an Arabic 't'. And the feather is Egyptian, it's 'e'. Then this one is an 'n', but it's Greek, that's why it looks like a 'v'. Then we have another 't' in Hebrew."
"Is the next one an F?" asked Ron.
"It looks like one, but it's actually a Germanic rune for 'a'."
"T, e, n, t, a… Hang on - tentacula!" exclaimed Ron. "I bet it's going to say 'extract of venomous tentacula', right? That was one of the ingredients in Snape's potion supplies record, wasn't it?"
"It was," said Hermione, "but see here, every other word's written backwards, so it comes out 'tcartxe'. That's why it's taking so long to figure out."
"So where do we go from here?" asked Ron. "First of all, You-know-who is going to come after you, Harry, when he's strong enough, and Snape will be helping him. Second, Hecate's going to talk with Dumbledore, and as soon as she accuses Snape, she'll be toast. Third, if the potion wasn't Upas Milk, then Snape..."
"... was still working for Voldemort, but in some other way," put in Harry. "Maybe he and Lucius were talking about the Squibs. Or about getting rid of me. You know nothing would make Snape happier. Or Lucius. We'll beat them, though," he said triumphantly. "Send them both to rot in Azkaban." He grinned at Hermione's shock.
"Stop it, Harry!" exclaimed Hermione. "You're jumping to conclusions. We have to think this whole thing through again from the beginning. And I think we'd better talk to Professor McGonagall, or Takushiki, or someone, because of what we promised Hagrid."
Ron was making rapid notes on a scrap of paper. "OK, how about this: Hermione, you work on the potion recipe. I'll try to come up with some explanations that make sense without Upas Milk. And Harry, you talk with Hecate. See if she'll tell you anything more about the Squibs or about Dumbledore."
Harry went to find Professor Takushiki the next evening.
"Remember, Harry, don't put her in danger by telling her too much – just in case," Ron had told him as he left the common room. Harry had nodded but he knew that it was going to be difficult to stop himself pouring out all his fears and suspicions about everything that had happened over the past few months.
Hecate was sitting behind the desk in her office, munching a chocolate frog and chuckling over an old copy of "Witch Weekly".
"Look at this – 'Knit your own Gilderoy Lockhart Doll!' she read out from the cover. "Who'd want to do that?"
"Plenty of people, if they could stick pins in it!" laughed Harry as she motioned him to sit down and take a sweet.
"It's good to see you smiling again," she said. "What can I do for you? I didn't think I'd set you any homework this week."
Harry hesitated. "It's not about Defense; well, not about the Defense class..."
"Spit it out then!" she commanded with a grin.
"It's about that special project Dumbledore was working on just before he died. I, we, I mean Ron and Hermione and I, think that we know the answer. Voldemort is killing Squibs and transferring their powers to himself – and he tried to steal Dumbledore's powers too."
"And how did you come to that conclusion?" asked Hecate, suddenly grave.
"Something we heard Filch say a while ago." He blushed slightly to be saying that name to Hecate. "Something else that Ron's brother Percy told us when we saw him a couple of days ago; he works at the Ministry. Then there was what happened to the windowsill in Dumbledore's office; it had obviously been acted on by great forces. And you told us in class that magic transference always damages the surrounding matter. We just put it all together."
Hecate shrugged and smiled. "Dumbledore told me that you and your friends had a talent for investigation. What can I say but 'well done!'"
"He told you?" said Harry, suddenly cold. "When?"
"A week or so before he died as I remember."
Harry let out a silent sigh of relief. "So will you talk to him soon?"
"In a few days. Nicolas Flamel has told me that he's settling in well and is nearly ready."
Only a few days, thought Harry. What do I do?
"Has Voldemort killed many Squibs?" he said aloud.
Hecate's face was swept with sorrow. "Hundreds. Including children. It's like a war zone, his own little Holocaust. Believe me, Harry, we are doing everything we can to stop him."
"He'll come back here, you know. Maybe you can stop him then."
Hecate stiffened. "To Hogwarts? Why do you say that?"
"He's tried to kill me twice since I've been here. Dumbledore said some of his powers went into me when I was a baby. He'll be wanting them back."
"You're saying that the best time to stop him is..."
Harry nodded. "When he comes after me. And there's more, Professor. We think the short wizard helping him is Peter Pettigrew. He's an animagus. He used to be my father's friend, but he betrayed him and then changed into a rat and disappeared. We saw him last year when Sirius Black got away, but no one believed us."
Hecate stood up. "I have to tell the Headmaster this."
"No, Professor, you mustn't!" cried Harry. He took a deep breath; he would have to tell her everything now.
"You know who Lucius Malfoy is? Draco's father, the one that everyone says is still on the Dark although he swears he's not? Well, Hagrid saw him and Snape talking together in Knockturn Alley just before Dumbledore died. Snape was telling Lucius something Lucius was very pleased to hear. We think they were plotting against Dumbledore. You know, sorting out when Voldemort was going to come and kill him. Hagrid said that Snape went white as a sheet when he saw him." He paused, but Hecate said nothing and so he went on.
"That potion Snape gave Dumbledore; we think it was a dark potion to weaken him before the attack. It made my scar itch when I smelt it and only dark things ever do that. I mean I practically heard Snape telling Dumbledore that the potion was going to kill him. Then Lucius got Snape made Headmaster and the Sorting Hat says he's going to make him even more powerful, so long as he doesn't interfere when Lucius and Voldemort come to kill me."
"You're saying that Professor Snape has gone over to the Dark?" asked Hecate.
"I'm saying he never left it, Miss. You have to remember that class of yours he sat in on? He said that people don't ever return from the dark. He meant himself! I think he hated my father so much he went bad and now he's after me too."
"I do recall that lesson," Hecate answered slowly. "We were talking about how you can tell if people have really come back from the dark, weren't we? I was explaining to you how you recognise them; they're moody and suspicious and mistrustful. And they feel ill if they come near anyone or anything that's still dark."
Harry paused. This was not the reaction he had wanted. He had been so sure that Hecate would believe him and immediately write to the ministry. Now it seemed that she was more interested in seeing how his exam revision was coming along. He was silently grateful that he had not told her about his illicit trip to the Institute of Potions or their raid on Snape's office. Now he could not be sure that she would not have told him about it.
"You don't believe me then?" he said finally.
"Well, I think that there was a lot more to Professor Snape's becoming Headmaster than Lucius Malfoy for one thing. It's a ministry appointment after all, it's not in Mr Malfoy's gift. And people like Mr Malfoy are not always as powerful – or as clever – as they appear; or as they think. Then too, Professor Dumbledore must have known what Professor Snape gave him; after all he was the greatest wizard of his age. Could he have been fooled with a potion? And as I said in that class, Harry, I think I can tell when someone is on the Dark – or no longer there."
Harry heard Snape's sneering voice again as if it were whispering in his ear. "I know one when I see one." So Snape had been right to mock Hecate; she truly believed that she could tell that he was not dark. I can't blame her, he thought. This is a different kind of evil to any she's ever fought before.
"Harry, if I really believed that you were in danger from Professor Snape then I would help you and so would any of the other teachers here." Hecate went on. "But I don't. I do know that you and he aren't – each other's favourite people. And that it goes back further than that. But if there's one thing I do know it's that hate is a great distorter. Do you really think that you would believe these things if Professor Snape and your father – if Professor Snape and you – were not such enemies?"
It's no use, thought Harry. But he had to say one final thing. "Professor, when you speak to Dumbledore, will you tell us first?" he begged.
"Why?" asked Hecate "Oh, I see! Just in case I tell Professor Snape first and he pushes me into one of his specimen jars before I can turn him in to Azkaban! Harry, I will let you know what message Dumbledore has. But I don't believe it will be the one you expect. Now, I don't blame you, you've been through an awful lot this year. But I want you to put these worries out of your mind. Everyone at this school has your best interests at heart."
Harry left her to return to the common room disheartened and angry. He reported the conversation in whispers to Hermione and Ron.
"I was so sure she'd be different," he said.
"If Hecate says that..." asked Ron uncertainly. "Well, I mean, she should know."
"I mean, Snape did sort of save your life when Quirrell was after you that time in the Quidditch match," added Hermione.
"Well, if you two aren't on my side..." snapped Harry.
"Hey, we just went through all that," Ron told him. "Look, you know what I think about Snape. I think he's the worst teacher in the history of the world. I'd like to lock him in a cupboard with a rogue Bludger and throw away the key. But what Hecate says counts with me. She's not stupid."
"I'm pretty certain that the potion he gave Dumbledore wasn't Milk of Upas," added Hermione. "Something else: wouldn't Dumbledore have known about that year that's missing from Snape's records? He seemed to know everything about everyone. But he still employed him."
Harry shook his head. "I just don't know any more. We have to protect Hecate, now, too I think. I just wish Dumbledore would speak." He slumped down, suddenly as low as he had been on the day in the forest when Rodney had found him.
"Harry, I think I found something out in the library to cheer you up," said Hermione quickly. "You've still got that feather that Fawkes gave you, haven't you?"
"Of course," replied Harry, looking up. It was hidden with the Marauder's Map.
"Go and get it and meet me and Ron in the History of Magic classroom, then," Hermione told him. "It'll be quiet there. And bring your wand too."
Harry slipped up to his dormitory, retrieved the feather from its hiding place and hurried along to the classroom where his friends were waiting.
Hermione pulled out a small, thick book with 'Staffs of Power' written on it. "This is very rare," she said. "I asked Madam Pince for something about making or mending wands and at first she thought that there wasn't anything. People just don't do that sort of thing for themselves any more and they haven't for hundreds of years. They go to professionals like Mr Ollivander. But once upon a time, every wizard or witch used to make his or her own wand from materials they found on great adventures. I mean there was Dido the Trickster. She slew an evil dragon and used its heartstrings to make a wand. Or Akbar the Learned. He saved the life of a unicorn and it gave him some of its tail hairs in gratitude. Or..."
"Ronald the Impatient!" put in Ron. "He slew a witch who was trying to bore him to death by rambling on and never getting to the point, so he used her tongue to..."
Hermione tapped him smartly on the head with the book. It was obviously harder than it looked judging by his pained "Ow!"
"That's fine," said Harry "but remember, I've already got a wand, it's just that it's broken. I'd like to think that the new feather would mend it, but Mr Ollivander told me when I bought it that I was meant to have this particular wand." He shook it and a few pathetic sparks dribbled out of the end. "He said that no two phoenixes were the same too. It won't be the same if I change the feather. Maybe it won't even work for me any more. No, I have to have my old wand." Even if it did have a feather from the same phoenix as Voldemort inside it, he thought.
Hermione flipped the book open triumphantly. "Akbar already had a wand too. He needed a new unicorn hair to put in it because a demon had stolen it and given it to a hellhound to play with. By the time Akbar got it back, it was half chewed to pieces. But Akbar's master told him that it would be all right to repair it since it wasn't his fault that it got damaged in the first place; and if the unicorn would give him the new hair freely. It wouldn't have worked if he had stolen the unicorn's hair or if his wand had been snapped because he'd done something wrong."
"And was his wand the same after?" asked Harry.
"Exactly. He wound the new hair around the old and it was as good as new. What you need to do is burn off the damaged end of the old feather and twist the new one around it. Fawkes gave it to you as a gift and it wasn't your fault that the wand got broken."
"It's worth a try," said Harry.
"Put it this way, you don't want to face You-know-who with a dodgy wand," Ron told him. "Let's do it!"
Harry took the feather out of his pocket and gave the wand to Hermione. She held it carefully and checking the book, whispered "Virga extremitaperte" to it, while waving her own wand. When she gave it back to Harry he saw that the tip was hanging loose again. Peering inside he could see the black end of the feather.
Hermione began to chant a firemaking spell. "Open the window, Ron" she said. Ron hurried over. She motioned to Harry to follow. He teased the feather out of the wand's heart. Then Hermione set fire to its end. They watched it burn and did their best to wave the black smoke that rose from it out of the open window. Even so, Harry felt his scar beginning to smart.
"That should be enough," he said at last. The original phoenix feather was now clean, if shorter. Harry took the new feather and carefully twisted the two together into a golden and red chain. Then he fed it very carefully back into the wand.
Hermione took it again. "Extremitaclausa," she said, and tapped it with her wand. The tip was whole again.
"Try it out," Ron told Harry.
Harry held his wand out and swept it up and down. Instantly sparks flew out of its end and he felt a surge of power shoot up his arm. It was as astonishing as the first time he had held it in Ollivander's shop.
"It's right again!" he cried in pleasure as Hermione and Ron gasped and applauded. Thank you, Fawkes, he thought, thank you, Professor Dumbledore, thank you, my friends, I owe you so much. He felt as if all of them were gathered together in the room around him, loyal and compassionate, their friendship warming him like bright sunshine. He could not help thinking that somehow they had rearmed him for the fight to come.
