Chapter Thirty-Six:

The Unseelie Court

It was still rather dark out there, but Harry and Ron just had to follow the slightly white luminescence of the band of wickedness. "This really isn't fair," Ron grumbled. "We're saving someone who was trying to kill you…that's just messed up."

Harry, however, was more than willing to get Quirrell out of this mess. After all, he'd probably been the one to get rid of Mortius. The fairies were leaving a trail behind, of will o' the wisp, so they weren't the most difficult thing to follow. "Cassandra, are you and Blaise coming?"

"Why not?" Cassandra said, still looking very fatigued. "I need a drink, though."

"Have you got a vial to drink from?" Blaise inquired. When Cassandra shook her head, he stretched out his arm and sighed. "Okay…just this once." Cassandra sunk her teeth into Blaise's arm and the energy almost instantaneously came back to her. "That didn't even hurt…in fact, it felt rather good."

"If you willingly give it, then it isn't going to feel bad," Cassandra said calmly. "Thanks, Blaise."

"That was…" Ron said, "…utterly disgusting."

"It's a part of unlife," Cassandra said flatly. "There's nothing gross about it. I do it all the time."

"To who? Blaise and Rhianna?"

"You're making it sound like I'm doing something wrong," Cassandra said, blinking, "and no, this is the first time I bit either one of them. I usually just get blood from my uncle or one of his friends. Aurelius Fallowin's very good about donating."

"I can see that, actually," Ron said, "but don't expect me to give you any of my blood."

"I won't," Cassandra said nicely. "Thanks for not interrupting Blaise's Resurrection."

"If you'd done that, something a lot worse could have come from that crack in the earth," Blaise said. "I'm sure Darius told you about Atlantis already."

"Yes, he did," Harry said, still walking. He could see the swarm of beings rushing off. Knowing this was going to be a long night, he placed two orange Mood Drops in his mouth, preparing in advance; he gave Ron the same amount. "We're going to need it."

"Yeah," Ron said, looking up at the sky. "They're flying pretty fast…"

Both Harry and Ron ran as fast as their sixteen-year-old legs could take them, but the Unseelie Court was flying about as swiftly as Quirrell had been running only a few minutes earlier. It was impossible to keep up with them. "How are we supposed to catch up with THAT?" Ron said, sighing sadly. "I think Quirrell's done for."

"Hold on…WHAT are you talking about?" Blaise asked. "That fellow died five years ago, Harry, when he tried to kill you…don't you remember? He was after the Philosopher's Stone, and—"

"You're right," Cassandra said, looking at Blaise with surprise. "What's going on? Quirrell's supposed to be dead. So…how come he yelled at me, more alive than me, and told me I wasn't a professional?"

"Ask Ahsimal," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "It was his idea to bring the bloke back to life, not mine."

"Alive or dead, nobody deserves to be dragged by that crowd," Blaise said. "I've got some Scottish relatives who survived encounters with the Seelie Court before—"

"Blaise, this isn't the Seelie Court," Harry said, "I believe this is the Unseelie Court."

"That's a lot worse, mate," Ron said. "The Unseelie Court is as vile as the fairy world can get." He looked up. "Well…there goes Quirrell…no way we can catch up."

"I'm sure Hermione could have thought of something," said Cassandra. She shrugged her shoulders and said, "Oh well…let's head back to Hogwarts—"

"That's it!" Harry said. "What was the spell Hermione used to stop the pixies four years ago?"

"Right!" Ron said, waving his wand at the bad fairies. "IMOBULUS!" Quirrell and the entire Unseelie Court fell to the ground with a heavy thud. "Professor, are you okay over there?"

"I'm fine," Quirrell said in a rather annoyed voice. "Weasley, Potter…how could you leave me isolated, even for a second? Things like that target the unaccompanied."

"Well, we rescued you, so you don't have all that much room to gripe and complain with us," Ron said, folding his arms. Quirrell scowled at him and stomped toward the gates leading out of St. Clytemnestra's Cemetery. "That really wasn't all that hard."

"That doesn't mean the Unseelie Court's heading back to the Scotland forests, either," said Blaise. "They'll be bothering the people of Hogsmeade until daybreak."

"Those things can possess people, you know," Quirrell said, tapping his foot in exasperation. "How could you leave me? I was right there!"

"Get over it," the students said in unison.

"Maybe we should go back to the school after all," Blaise said. "Who's with me?"

"I'll go," said Cassandra, walking with her friend. "Harry, what about you and Ron?"

"Er…no," Ron said, "thanks. Harry and I will be looking around Hogsmeade for a bit before we head back. Honestly, Cassandra, it's a Saturday night and Hogsmeade is having its last days of the After Christmas Sales…if you expect me to get you a birthday present, I've got to go now."

"He's got a point, you know," Harry said, and walked off with Ron. "Nice save, mate."

"Not a problem, Harry," said Ron. "This shall be a pretty fun—"

"Excursion with your Alchemy teacher," Quirrell interrupted. "I've got to get my wife something for Valentine's Day, or she'll wring my neck."

"Does she get you stuff?" Ron asked

"What do you think?" Quirrell snapped, pulling a twig out of his messy hair. "She's done so every year. Now, it won't be so bad being supervised, will it?"

"Yes," Ron said, "it'll be awful." When he saw the glare he was given, he added, "Just a joke."

"Welcome to uptown Hogsmeade!" said the manager of a charmed flower store, a rather squat old lady with her hair in a beehive. "May I interest you in my Poetry Roses? They smell nice, and recite love poems when you rub the thorns. I sell a lot of these every Valentine's Day…and you know it'll be coming up soon!"

"They'll wilt by then," Quirrell said flatly.

"Not if you buy my freshness potion," said the lady. "Here's a free sample!"

"This lady's trying a bit too hard to impress him with her product," Harry whispered to Ron, who nodded. "If I were Quirrell, I'd get Stanzi something else…there's just something about Stanzi that says she's not a flower kind of person."

"No, thanks," Quirrell said, walking out of the store, to find the daffodils were cursing him out. Ron walked back in there, and Quirrell looked slightly amused. "You're not actually going to buy anything in there, are you?"

"Yes," Ron said. "I'm going to buy a set of flowers to go on Isis's grave. Harry, would you like to get some for Lupin?"

"He's not dead, Ron," Harry said, "and neither is Sirius."

"Sirius?" Quirrell sounded a bit skeptical.

"Yes, I'm serious about it," Harry said.

"No, you misunderstood me…which Sirius are you talking about? Sirius Black?"

"Er…yeah…he didn't kill my parents."

"Oh, I knew that!" Quirrell said, grinning. "It was Pettigrew; I thought it was Black until the Dark Lord told me differently. Rather sneaky, I thought, pinning everything on the best friend. Had that been true for me committing a crime, everyone would suspect Alex."

Ron came out of the store five minutes later with a set of black roses and irises. "She charmed these to never wilt…and watch this." He unwrapped the paper holding the stems together, and touched a black rose's thorn.

Suddenly, a voice came from the rose…it sounded like Phorcys Lancerie:

"Heard a carol, mournful, holy

Chanted loudly, chanted lowly

Till her blood was frozen slowly,

And her eyes were darkened wholly…"

"That's Tennyson," Quirrell said, looking at the roses with a bit of confusion. "Why are the roses reciting that part of 'The Lady of Shalott'?

"The flower lady in there called this a Mourning Bouquet—"

"I don't see what the time of day has to do with—" in mid-sentence, Quirrell cut himself off, realizing that Ron had said 'mourning', and not 'morning'. "Oh…sorry."

"I think that's nice of you to get those for Isis," Harry said. "I'm sure she'd thank you if she could."

"None of you should be forced to experience those tragedies up at Hogwarts," Quirrell said, a vacant expression on his face. "Death is perhaps the most gruesome thing to ever witness. It's not as bad when you're the one who's actually dying, but seeing pain and fear like that on someone else, someone so innocent…that's truly horrible." He looked at the two Gryffindors and said, "I can feel sorry for Hermione Granger, seeing Blaise Zabini dying on the floor…and knowing there was no way she could stop the gorgonix. Actually, I can do more than pity…I can sympathize."

"What are you talking about?" Ron asked. "Just because a vampire tried to bite you in Romania?"

"That was Ahsimal, by the way," Quirrell said, rolling his eyes, "and he did get me this time. But, no…that's not what made me the nervous wreck I was."

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" Ron asked.

"It was terrifying, being his host, but again…no," Quirrell looked very hollow; as if there was nothing inside him at all. "What made me so panicky was the fact that I had to witness the murder of my own son." Harry had known about that, but had forgotten all about it until Quirrell had brought that topic up. "I got my Necromancer's License about a month later, but never could get a permit to enter St. Clytemnestra's, since the Von Dorians who lived in The Lair were constantly out of town." He looked at Ron and said, "So…you want to go back to the cemetery to put those by Acheron's grave? I must commend you on your taste, Weasley; she was a sweet girl and had a rather nice smile."

"I know," Ron said, heading off in that direction.

"Harry, hello!" said a soothing female voice. Harry turned around to see Lydia…with Teiresias. "How's it going?"

Harry decided not to alarm Lydia, so he said, "Oh, everything's going well. Rather nicely, actually."

"I didn't know this was a Hogsmeade weekend," Lydia said. "If you see Cassandra, tell her to please visit us…we've missed her."

"It isn't a Hogsmeade weekend, Mrs. Von Dorian-Snape—"

"Miss Von Dorian," Lydia corrected Quirrell.

"You're divorced?" When Lydia nodded, Quirrell laughed. "Good for you."

"Are you heading to the cemetery, by any chance?" she asked, and then looked at Quirrell. "I don't think you're teaching up at Hogwarts anymore…in fact, I have you marked as dead in my cemetery address book…you and your family." Lydia raised a dark eyebrow and asked, "So…what are you doing with Ron Weasley and Harry Potter on a Saturday in Hogsmeade, Quirrell?"

"It's a long story," Quirrell said, "and it involves your daughter and the Unseelie Court—"

"Never mind," Lydia said, pursing her lips.

"Oh, come on, Mum!" Teiresias said, looking interested. "I just read some stories about the Unseelie Court…I want to hear this!" He looked up at Quirrell and said, "So…did she bring them to Hogsmeade?"

"Yes."

"Great!" Teiresias said, pulling out a camera. "Maybe I can keep a few little mementos before they leave!" He rushed off, holding the camera in one hand, and his wand in the other.

Lydia looked horrified as her son walked off into the darkness. "TEIRESIAS! WAIT UP!"

"What a nice lady," Ron said, watching Lydia run. "I hope she finds Teiresias still in one piece."

After stopping by the cemetery, and a few downtown stores; Harry, Ron, and Quirrell found themselves back in uptown Hogsmeade…at The Hog's Head. "Oh, you're back," said the man behind the counter to Quirrell. He then added sarcastically, "Did you ever get that vampire to go away?" Quirrell stretched his neck in the right direction so the fellow could see the two tiny teeth holes where Darius had bitten him upon his Resurrection. "Guess not…well, then…will you be ordering an Ogden's Old Firewhiskey, as usual?"

"Yes," Quirrell said, scowling. "On the rocks."

"And two butterbeers, please," Ron added.

"I hope you've got that money," Quirrell said, "because, Weasley, I am NOT buying you a drink."

Harry looked behind to see Aurelius was coming in, so he tapped Quirrell on the shoulder. "Just so you know, another professor's coming in."

"Damn," Quirrell said, rushing to the water closet as if he had a sudden urge to vomit. A few minutes later, he came out as Lethe. "Well," Lethe said, sitting down, "that's that." She grabbed the firewhiskey and began to slurp it down at a rather ambitious pace.

"Hold on, lady! That was Quirrell's drink, not yours—"

"Oh, shut up," Lethe said, pushing two Galleons across the counter. And, without any more urging, the man silenced himself. "Hi, Aurelius!" she said loudly.

Aurelius blushed a bit, but came up the front. "Hello, Juno," he replied, looking as if he hadn't wanted to be spotted. "What are you doing out here with Ron and Harry?"

"Haven't you heard?" Lethe asked. "Cassandra Snape ran out with Blaise Zabini's body to—"

"That bloody monster got him too?"

"Yes, well—"

"Just how many died since I left yesterday?!"

"How should I know?" Lethe snarled back, slurping down the last of the Firewhiskey, as if it were nothing more dangerous than a cup of lukewarm tea. "I just know I followed Harry and Ron to track down Cassandra. She managed to Resurrect her friend without any problems, but she unleashed the Unseelie Court."

"That's why I'm out here," Aurelius said. "I got a letter from Cornelius Fudge just about an hour ago. Archimedes sent it to me—you know, Morty's owl—and you're not going to believe how much this guy is willing to pay me to subdue the Unseelie Court before the members cause serious damage!" He began to chuckle a bit, but the chuckle became a laugh, and the laugh soon became a guffaw, which echoed throughout the entire pub, since everyone else had gone deathly quiet. Aurelius cleared his throat, rolled back his shoulders, and then said calmly, "I'll make a small fortune after tonight…and that's not counting my big fat compensation check from the Ministry of Magic about my Azkaban grievances."

"Good for you," Lethe said dryly.

"That's really great," Harry added, glad Aurelius had found a great use for his Exorcism skills.

"Well," Aurelius said, tapping his new wand on his shoulder, "off I go, into the unlit night, to fight these little buggers—"

"They're not all little," Lethe interrupted.

"How would you know?"

"I was their captive an hour ago."

"How'd you get out of their grasp?" Lethe pointed to Harry and Ron. "Oh," Aurelius said, grinning, "I see. Great thinking, lads." With those words, he ran out of the pub, but came right back. "Right! I forgot…I wanted a little red wine before I left." He tossed a Galleon across the counter, and received a small glass in exchange. After practically inhaling the wine, Aurelius rushed out, and didn't come back…but slamming the door shut so hard that it fell off the hinges made his exit a very theatrical one.

"I hope Alchemy isn't too boring," Lethe said, turning to Ron.

"Oh, it's not," Ron said. "I like the fact I'm doing well in there. What do you think, Harry?" He turned, and then blanched. "Harry?"

"What's wrong, Weasley?" Lethe asked.

"Harry left, Professor!"

Indeed, Harry had left the Hog's Head, and decided he'd follow Aurelius rather than Lethe/Quirrell. The prospect of learning how to deal with vanquishing evil spirits like the Unseelie Court seemed fascinating, so he wanted to find out how Aurelius did it. "What are you doing out here?" Aurelius asked, looking a bit unsure of Harry's accompaniment.

"Following you, Aurelius," Harry said, trying his best to look friendly and up to a little mischief. "I want to know how to vanquish evil spirits…"

"Heaven comes to he who waits," Aurelius replied, and pulled a smelly brown bag out of his blazer's left pocket, and then a lighter. He bent down, put the parcel on the ground, and torched it. "They'll come soon, attracted to the magical element of chaos. I also put a salmon in there, since beings like the Unseelie Court seem to also like fish for some reason."

"Was there anything else?" Harry asked, covering his mouth and nose with his sleeve; Aurelius's exorcism smelled horrible, yet predictable; burnt fish.

"Nope," Aurelius said, "just a fish and fire. By the way, Harry, you might want to look up. They're coming toward the fire."

Harry did as directed, and noticed an entire swarm of ghastly beings reaching toward the fire, and running closer to it at a rate much faster than any human was capable of running.

"This is all going well, according to my plan," Aurelius whispered, as the Unseelie Court started to fight itself for the fire. Aurelius raised his wand, and forcefully said, "ENTITUS EVICTUS!" Hundreds upon hundreds of the horrible apparitions became a pure white vapor, and sunk beneath the earth…except for one. There was a woman with hollow cheeks, sunken eyes, and long stringy hair the color of pond algae; she wore a flowing black dress which had transparent, ragged ends, and she was barefoot. "Ah…so we meet again, Leanan-Sidhe," Aurelius said, sighing. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Fallowin?" said the woman-like entity. "It really has been a while; last time I saw you, you had just gotten out of school, and were still in college. I can see a few gray hairs now." She sneered then, and raised her head. "You can evict my Unseelie Court, yet can't evict me? How typical for Aurelius Fallowin." She grinned, to show off blood-red gums with rot-spots.

"Who is she?" Harry whispered to Aurelius.

"She's Leanan-Sidhe," Aurelius whispered back. "She's a banshee from the Isle of Man who decided to run the Unseelie Court. We've confronted each other several times before." He pointed his wand at Leanan-Sidhe and said, "I'm tired of having to deal with you…you're perhaps the hardest being to get rid of who I've run across."

"Meh," replied Leanan-Sidhe, tapping her bony feet. "You'll run off—as usual—when you hear me sing." She cleared her throat, and opened her mouth, obviously about to sing. "Cur—"

"DISPERSIUM!" Aurelius shouted, turning Leanan-Sidhe into white mist, like the rest of the Unseelie Court; she then sunk under the ground. "That was it? I just had to use the Dispersion Charm instead of the Eviction or Ejection Charm?! THAT would have gotten rid of her for the time being!" Aurelius sighed in exasperation and said, "Well, Harry, maybe you and I should head back to Hogwarts."

"What for? Shouldn't we celebrate saving the people of Hogsmeade, and don't you have to report somewhere to receive your check?" Harry countered, not really wanting to go back to Hogwarts, where the gorgonix was probably still on a killing spree.

"Morty wants me to attend a Mass with him at the Cathedral he goes to," Aurelius responded, and started walking toward the school. "Besides, Fudge already said the check was in the mail."

Suddenly, Harry remembered…he had a letter he had to read; it had been in his pocket the whole time!

"Dear Harry," Harry began re-reading at the breakfast table on Sunday. "I must say your skill at the Quidditch game surprised me. You've come quite a long way since the last time I saw you out there. I am sure you'll be glad to hear I'm coming back to Hogwarts to be a Wizard in Residence; it's like being a Guidance Councilor, or something of that sort. Although I will be dealing mostly with young witches and wizards who aren't quite sure what to be preparing themselves for, I'm sure you and I will be running across each other shortly. Tell Sirius (yes, I know he's there) I said hello, if you see him before I do…..with best regards…Remus J. Lupin."

"That's wonderful," said Cassandra, looking just about as thrilled as Ron and Hermione. "I haven't seen Lupin face-to-face since I was a Third Year, and I'm relieved somebody repaired him."

"You're making him sound like a broken toy!" Hermione said, elbowing the raven-haired girl.

"It's true…you repair corpses," Cassandra said, and then said, "I'm not sure what was going through Darius's mind yesterday, bringing Sargon out to Blaise's Resurrection with a crucifix. The both of them should know by now that St. Clytemnestra's Cemetery, or any Von Dorian territory is marked as a non-crucifix zone."

"Oh well," Ron said. "Crosses don't kill."

"Speaking of crucifixes," Harry said, "I couldn't help but notice the sign Morty put up on the Turret Fifteen door—"

"Really?" Hermione sounded interested. "What did he write? 'Gone Cursing Innocent Bystanders', or 'Be Back in Five Minutes; Must Kill Students'?"

"Neither," Harry said defensively. "He wrote, 'In Case You Were Wondering, I'm Attending Mass; I'll Be Back Around Noon', or something along those lines."

"He's Catholic?" Ron asked. "You don't see too many Catholic wizards in Britain at this day and age."

"Oddball, isn't he?" Hermione added. "Harry, you don't honestly believe he's attending church right now…do you?" Harry didn't respond, because the topic of conversation had to dramatically change instantaneously. "Hello, Serena."

"Hi," Serena said, sitting down with the group. "Did you finish your Furrier essay yet?"

"No," Harry and Ron answered.

"It's a work in progress," was Cassandra's input.

"Yes," said Hermione.

"Great!" Serena chirped, and then pulled out a pencil. "Mind if I copy like a lazy old American?" The looks Hermione gave the girl obviously stated how appalled she was by this question and behavior. "I was kidding, okay? Mine's almost done."

"I think poor Hermione here was about to have a coronary when you said that," Cassandra said, a small smirk appearing on her face. "That was pretty funny."

"Have you got a favorite class here yet, Serena?" asked Ron.

"Um," Serena said, putting her index finger to her bottom lip, "Yeah, actually."

"Which one?" Ron inquired. "I'm for Alchemy."

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," Harry added.

"Necromancy," was Cassandra's input.

"Charms," said Hermione.

"I like Potions," Serena said, a smile on her slightly tan face. When she saw the expressions Hermione, Ron, and Harry were giving her, she looked very confused. "Something wrong?"

"The Potions Master's a slimy git," Ron stated.

"A…what?" Serena seemed confused. "What's a git?"

"Bastard," Hermione corrected. "Git's an insult."

"Oh, okay," Serena said, and then looked even more perplexed. "And you're saying that about Snape?"

"Yes," Ron said, totally ignoring the warning signs Hermione was giving him.

"Ron," Harry heard her whisper, "Cassandra's right there—"

"I'm used to hearing people say that," Cassandra said calmly. "Just like I'm used to hearing people call me a disgusting blood-drinker, and Hermione a mudblood."

"Hey, don't feel bad about that," Serena said toward Hermione, who was looking rather upset. "Most American witches and wizards are Muggle-born or mixed blood…I think maybe only one in a thousand is Pureblooded, excluding the Von Dorians, since there's at least one or two of them in every town, city, or hamlet…and that's not just America; that's worldwide." She smiled again and said, "If it's any comfort, I'm a Mudblood too. So are Shaquan and Jezebel—actually, I think Jezebel's a Halfblood, but anyway—and I think the only Pureblood at our school is Aarel."

"But why do you like Snape?" Harry asked Serena. "Are you mental?"

"He's pretty nice," Serena said. "I got lost yesterday, and he pointed me in the right direction. He even went with me to make sure the gorgonix didn't get me. Sure, I know how to handle them—we covered those a while back in Black Magic Defense—that's what we Americans call Defense Against the Dark Arts—but after seeing what happened to Miss Von Dorian…I don't think I want to even attempt to face that thing."

"That's common sense," Cassandra said. "I'm trying to find the thing, too. However, some people think I might be the creature." She glared over at the teachers' table at Ebonyste, who smiled and waved in a friendly manner.

"Oh, I completely FORGOT about Foreign Magic!" Serena said, laughing. "Mr. Ebonyste is cool."

"You are mental," Ron said. "He's a pointy-eared git in a tie-dye shirt and love beads."

"I actually LIKE Ebonyste, Ron!" Hermione snapped. "He's a friendly and funny fellow."

"You tell 'em, Hermione!" Serena chirped.

"I'm going elsewhere," Cassandra said in the middle of the squabble, and sat down with Blaise and Rhianna over at the Slytherin table.

Since Ron and Hermione were going to be trying to educate Serena about who was a good teacher, and who wasn't, Harry decided he'd sit with Neville, Ginny, and Luna. "Hello," he said, taking a seat. "Is there anything new going on?"

"Not really," Luna said, reading the Quibbler, "but according to the Quibbler, Professor Skylarke, our Curses & Rootwork teacher, might be the gorgonix."

"I believe it," Neville said. "Sure, he's nice, but he's a Slytherin Alumnus, and he majored in a Dark Art." He shivered and added, "I don't see how anyone can teach us how to Curse each other and smile at the same time. There's just something weird about him."

"I, for one, don't believe it's Skylarke," Ginny replied. "If you need homework help for his class, he's almost always up in his classroom, or at Mass on Sundays. He's not hard to find if you need him, and I think he doesn't have enough energy to be a gorgonix."

"I don't know what to believe in this," Luna said blankly. "My mind is null and void about gorgonixes."

"Dr. Hemlock said we Fifth Years should go ahead and learn how to defend ourselves from them, since there's one in the school…so she'll be teaching us about them this year instead of next year," Ginny said. "I swear…she's such a nice lady. A little rough, yes, but very considerate and thoughtful."

"But Skylarke's just weird," said Neville. "I think the only teacher who's weirder than him is Ebonyste."

"You're not going to believe what that kooky twit is up to," Harry said, and then looked at Luna. "Oh, I'm sure you'll believe it, Luna; this seems like a Quibbler story…it's true, though!"

"The Quibbler is the truth," said Luna, "but try me on this; I want to hear your story."

"He's spying on Cassandra Snape," Harry said, "because he thinks she's the gorgonix."

"Oh, I knew about that," Luna said. "My dad interviewed him for the Quibbler last week…that's practically all he wanted to talk about."

"I don't think it's Cassandra," Neville said. "I recall Nezura telling us that people with gorgonixes have a white ring around their pupil, which is very obvious on somebody with dark eyes. Well, Cassandra has dark eyes, and there's no ring."

"Great observation," Ginny said. "I don't think Hermione would have thought to check, no matter how smart she is…Neville, that's a great observation!"

Harry thought about the pictures Ebonyste had shown him of Cassandra, and then remembered something a little strange in them…in the pictures, Cassandra had light blue eyes. "Her eyes are dark green!" he suddenly announced. The shock of recognition caught him like a sudden sickness. "I've got to talk to Ebonyste…now!" He didn't care how rude it was to leave the table without so much as an "excuse me"; Ebonyste had falsified evidence! Ten seconds later, Harry was facing Ebonyste, peering from the other side of the teachers' table. "You're trying to frame her, aren't you?"

"Say what?" Ebonyste said, looking up from his copy of 'When Good Things Happen to Bad People (And How You Can Fix That Problem)' to see what had gotten Harry so mad. "What'd you say?"

"You're trying to frame Cassandra, aren't you?" Harry snarled, hoping that McGonagall, Dr. Hemlock, Snape, Snitchgrass, Lethe, Furrier, Stanzi, and Flitwick (who were all sitting relatively near Ebonyste) were listening in to what he had to say. He seriously wanted to embarrass Ebonyste in front of these teachers, especially Dr. Hemlock, and show them all what a liar and unreliable source Ebonyste truly was. "Admit it."

"No," Ebonyste said, folding his arms. His right ear began to twitch as he said, "I did no such thing."

"Let me see the photos again, then," Harry said. "I want to point something out." Ebonyste handed them over, and Harry began to point out errors immediately. "See? She's wearing a Gryffindor tie in that one, and she's got a bit of fat on her in these—she's practically fresh out of Azkaban, Professor; she's still skin-and-bones—AND the girl in the picture has light blue eyes. Cassandra's are dark green…and she's paler than this."

"Oooo!" Lethe said, pointing at Ebonyste. "You were trying to frame that poor girl after all! I almost believed you for a moment when you said Cassandra was the gorgonix!"

"I thought she was!" Ebonyste said. "I saw these actions firsthand…if that's not Cassandra Snape, then who is it? Huh?"

"Trying to frame my niece, eh?" Snape said, getting up out of his seat. He hung over Ebonyste like a heavy drink from the day before and pulled out his wand. "You and I settle this outside, as we would have a decade ago."

"To the death?" Ebonyste asked, his ears suddenly drooping. "Look, Severus—"

"No, since this is on school grounds," Snape said, dragging Ebonyste, "but I'm going to teach you a lesson in making scapegoats out of my family members."

"Sometimes it's best to let people learn from their own experiences," Ebonyste countered, clearly not wanting to be isolated somewhere with Snape.

"Not this time," Snape said angrily, getting a very firm grip on Ebonyste's left ear. "Don, I can't let you go around harassing my niece and trying to frame her."

"I thought it was her!" Ebonyste yelped. "How was I supposed to know it wasn't her?" With that, he and Snape went outside the Great Hall. There were a few yowls of pain, and then both returned…Ebonyste with a bloody nose.

"Don, are you okay?" Nezura asked, just joining in at the table. "What's going on?"

"He was framing my niece," Snape said in a very unhappy, threatening voice. "And Potter, what are you still doing here?"

"I…er…"

"I thank you for bringing this conspiracy to my ears, but your presence is no longer required at this table," Snape said, glaring at Harry. "I suggest—"

"I suggest he stay here as long as he likes," Dr. Hemlock said, folding her arms. "Harry, that was a very good deed you did just there. Adonis here had almost convinced me that Cassandra was the gorgonix, but now I know better."

"I honestly thought it was her…" Ebonyste grumbled, his ears twitching furiously.

A while later, Morty returned to Hogwarts, looking very at ease…something Harry hadn't seen on the teacher in quite some time. "Hello," he said, seeing Harry, Ron, and Hermione walk down the hall. "How was your morning?"

"Oh, the usual," Ron said, looking at the teacher in a slightly confused way. "How was yours?"

"Typical for a Sunday," Morty said, "yet this time, I really got involved with the service, instead of finding myself fall asleep due to lack of energy."

"Service?" Hermione asked, looking about as confused as Ron. "Where were you?"

"I was attending Mass in Hogsmeade," Morty replied. "Why do you ask?"

"Is that why you're dressed up so nicely?" Ron asked. "I mean…why do you go?"

"Because I'm Catholic," Morty replied. "I never miss a Mass service if I can help it."

"Are you sure you weren't here?" Hermione asked.

"I'm pretty sure," Morty said, "unless I have an evil twin I've never met or something like that." Now he looked a little curious. "What are you suggesting?"

"I saw Blaise's killer," Hermione said icily.

"You did?" Morty asked, still looking curious. "Who was it?"

"You," Hermione answered. "It was you."

"That's impossible," Morty said. "How could it be me?"

"Don't play tricks with me, Professor Skylarke!" Hermione snarled, looking rather intimidating for once as she pulled out her wand. "I know it was you…I saw you do it!"

"How could you have seen me kill Blaise if I was in Turret Four, trying to talk to a dead friend?" Morty responded. "I mean, Aurelius was up there with me, and so was Darius. If you need them to back up my story, I'm sure they'll be more than glad to do so. What makes you so sure this wasn't the gorgonix?"

"It was the gorgonix!" Hermione snapped. "The white ring around the pupil was there, and the noises coming out of it weren't anything a human could make."

"What was it doing to Blaise?" asked Morty.

"When I saw it, it was choking Blaise with his bare hands," Hermione said. "You should know; it was you!"

"Gorgonixes can shape-shift," Morty said calmly, and pulled off his gloves. "Take a look at my hands, Hermione, and look into my eyes…and you tell me if I'm Blaise's murderer or not."

Hermione glanced down at Morty's hands (or what was left of them) and looked like she was going to be sick. She then looked at Morty's eyes, and noticed, "T-there's no r-rim…it w-wasn't you after all?"

"No," Morty said, his face turning a bit pink from embarrassment about exposing his worm-eaten hands. "I was trying to tell you," he said as he put his gloves back on his hands, "but you didn't believe me."

"Sorry, Professor," Hermione said. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know you were…er…you had…"

"I was tortured to death by Death Eaters, and then—years later—I was subjected to a botched Resurrection," Morty said. "I've learned to cope with it, but I must say my self-esteem is now at an all-time low when it comes to my physical form. Mentally, I don't think I could get much better, and I'm okay with myself spiritually, but my body…well, you saw my hands; that should give you an idea of how I look from the neck down."

"I think you have a reason to be dreary after all!" Ron said, shocked. "I just thought you were suicidal."

"Me? Suicidal?" Morty asked. "No…not me."

"Professor, I'm really, really sorry about that…" Hermione kept saying, over and over. "So sorry…"

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Hello everyone! Yes, I've finally updated the story!! I really do appreciate everyone who has taken the time to review and I also want to tell you all, Thank You!!!!

My contact info is a bit up in the air at the moment, so, if you have any questions, comments, or need to contact me, please email my beta and good friend, Nita. Her pen name is NitaPotter, and her email is always, please review for me, and let me know how you like the story thus far! This is chapter 36 out of 50, plus an epilogue. It won't be too much longer now!! Ciao!!!

Professor M. Skylarke