"Well, I've got the Infirmary secured, and Poppy has all the injured students comfortable enough," McGonagall frowned, closing the door to Dumbledore's office as she entered. "Miss Weasley will need a few days of Healing, but even that may not be enough to permanently remove the damage. She will likely have a nice scar there when all is said and done."
Harry smiled inwardly. A nice scar indeed. He was unmoved under his Regent's inquisitive gaze.
"Her mouth, on the other hand, will take a good deal longer to cleanse," McGonagall went on. "She had some very choice things to say about you, Harry…about both of you, in fact."
Harry looked to his right, where Hermione simply shrugged back at him, equally as nonplussed by McGonagall's questions. They both returned her stare resolutely, not in the slightest bit ashamed. That might have been enough to pacify McGonagall, who had more than a mere fleeting interest in their affairs, but Dumbledore would not be so easily pacified.
"So, the matter of just why my Hospital Wing is thronging with students has arrived at last," the Headmaster quirked, a startling lightness to his tone. "Would either of you like to offer up an explanation, or shall I just form my own conclusions on the case?"
"A group of students, who all follow the doctrines of pure-blood mania, threatened my girlfriend," Harry began sternly. "I reacted in the defence of her. And I hope I really hurt them."
"Oh, I am quite certain you did," Dumbledore replied. "Madame Pomfrey informs me that I need to order a new batch of Skele-Gro…for her stocks will be severely depleted by the time her work is finished tonight."
Harry scoffed. "Order a lot, Sir. I have a feeling this will become a trend."
"I sincerely hope it does not," said Dumbledore, seriously. "Harry, I cannot have you reacting with such violence, no matter the provocation. You are receiving - and excelling in - specialist duelling training. I did not intend for this to be used against fellow students."
"But you will let a cowardly, filthy gang of my fellow students abuse and threaten others without punishment?" Harry cried, his ire soaring. "All for not toeing the most disgusting line ever seen here. Professor…if you know me at all, you know I won't stand for that."
"Indeed, Harry, I do know," said Dumbledore. He rose and moved to Fawkes, stroking his ebullient plume. "But we must tread very carefully where this new movement is concerned. Provoking them may be worse for those they target in the long run."
"Worse?" asked Hermione, cautiously. "How so?"
Dumbledore considered her over his half-moon glasses. "Right now, they are talking and threatening. It is goading, and worrying, but right now it is not hurting anything but pride and sensibility."
"But reacting to these petty acts may only escalate matters," McGonagall added.
"Exactly," said Dumbledore. "The number of students in this group is rising steadily, and each one is a potential conduit of information out of Hogwarts."
"Student spies, you mean," Hermione huffed angrily.
"Essentially," Dumbledore nodded. "And there are some powerful forces at work behind this group. This is not some playground spat. The power behind all this has no qualm in enlisting children to do their shady work where they cannot. Use that as an entry level moral…and imagine how much worse it could get."
"Students could be forcibly expelled, taken for 'assessments' and never seen again," said McGonagall. "The young members of the Grey Robes will likely be making a note of all those who oppose them. We must ensure that as few students as possible make those lists."
"All the while doing nothing to stop their activities?" asked Harry, incredulously. "What's the point, if they are likely to be targeted anyway? We need to fight…while we still have something to fight for."
"I'm with Harry on this," said Hermione, smiling at him in fierce support. "No offence, Professors, but you aren't at any sort of immediate risk. I am." She raised her arm, to show the bright yellow band with the big letter 'M' around her bicep. "And if the Grey Robes, or anyone else, comes for me, I'd like to think that more will be done in response than simply admonishing Daphne Greengrass for writing my name on a stupid list."
"Daphne?" McGonagall queried. "You suspect her?"
"She's one of Parkinson's cackle of hags in Slytherin," Hermione spat acridly. "I saw her buddying up to Ginny Weasley and Marietta Edgecombe the other day. They have all been raised under the ideals of Pureblood dogma…and I have previous with that dicey little witch."
"Previous?" asked Dumbledore.
"Marietta caught the nasty end of a curse of mine, one I used to protect the secrecy of members of the group we called the DA last year," Hermione explained, blushing shyly.
"Ah, yes," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. "My own personal army, I believe?"
"The same," Hermione answered, grinning a little. "It will be a long time before she gets over that. But it serves her right, for being such a sneaky little snake, if you ask me."
"Quite," Dumbledore agreed, lightly. "And you think Miss Edgecombe is acting with the Grey Robes, even though she doesn't don their distinguishing attire? Perhaps as some sort of recruiter?"
"It was just an idea," Hermione replied, in a shy little voice. "I mean, they don't exactly advertise for members, do they? But their numbers are growing, as you said. Someone must be vetting them."
Harry just looked at her admiringly, wondering where her mind came up with such deductions. The thought hadn't even occurred to him. Hermione flushed under his look, charged with such potent adoration as it was.
"Impressing sleuthing," Dumbledore complimented. "We shall have to keep an eye on Miss Edgecombe, and others. Each obvious member could have a contact, a handler if you like, that operates in the shadows."
"And Hogwarts has lots of shadows, Sir," said Harry. He was forging an idea. "Perhaps we need to do a little surveillance of our own."
"What are you suggesting?" asked Dumbledore.
"We have some experience of vetting ourselves," said Harry, inclining his head at Hermione. "As well as developing operations of subterfuge and counter-resistance. Perhaps it's time we used them for what they were intended."
"You're thinking of restarting the DA," said Hermione intuitively. "Using it against the Grey Robes?"
"Only the ones we trust," said Harry. "And, at this point, that list is very thin. But we need eyes around the castle. If only for intelligence gathering. We need to be prepared for when this gets worse…and we all know it will."
Dumbledore pierced Harry with a sparkling look. "You are right, Harry. I will permit this, and entrust it to you and your discretion. But recruit selectively, perhaps no more than ten to twelve members. People you trust explicitly. Write nothing down, make no records."
"But how will I tell you anything?" asked Harry, confused.
"Every week, at your Occlumency lessons, I will extract the memories from you," Dumbledore offered. "It is a secret and secure way for us to share information."
"Okay," said Harry. "And what will you do with the information?"
Dumbledore's eyes glittered with uncharacteristic malevolence. "You aren't the only only experienced in secretive resistance. If we learn anything useful, I will pass it on to my contacts. We are in preparation ourselves, of course."
"For what, Sir?" asked Hermione.
"To set magical Britain ablaze," Dumbledore replied darkly. "We may not be able to stop this transition, but we can give the enemy a bloody nose or two along the way."
"Well, this is plush. Certainly a lot nicer than the Tower. Maybe there's something in being a Prefect after all."
"Evening, Neville, come on in."
Hermione bowed Neville into the Prefects Communal Area, where Harry stood to greet him.
"Did anyone see you come here?" asked Harry.
"Maybe, but no-one really cared," said Neville, his eyes glinting cheekily. "Me and Ennie just fell up the stairs in a very passionate kissing session."
"Which is old news to everyone now!" Hermione laughed. "Hi, Enola."
"Evening," Enola replied cheerily, following Neville into the room. "And it was a sesh that I was quite enjoying, actually, if you don't mind. So I hope this is worth interrupting it for."
"It is," said Harry, solemnly. "Please sit. Butterbeer?"
"Cheers, Harry," said Neville, cracking open a bottle that Harry slid to him across the table, as all four sat down. "So…what's this all about?"
Harry and Hermione exchanged dark glances.
"Where to start?" said Harry, more to Hermione than the others.
"How about the Prophecy?" she replied.
"Yeah," said Neville. "You never did tell me what that was all about."
"No, I didn't, did I?" said Harry. "Things just got so crazy, so quickly. Okay, so here it is - the Prophecy, that we went to the Ministry for last year, was about me…actually, about me and Voldemort. Long and short of it, I'm fated to kill him."
Neville nearly choked on his butterbeer. Even Enola went ashen pale, which was startling, as she was naturally porcelain-coloured to begin with.
"Can you say that again?" Neville breathed. "Only it sounded like you said you have to kill him."
"That is what he said," Hermione replied. She looked at Harry, her gaze a mix of pity and profound support. "And I intend to be right there when he does it."
Harry grinned shyly in response.
"But…but…how?" Neville stuttered. "And how does this involve me? You said it did."
"The Prophecy said that a child born towards the end of July, whose parents had defied Voldemort three times, would be marked by him as his equal. Only two boys fit that description…me and you…and, well," Harry lifted his fringe and pointed to his forehead. "The rest is history."
"But we've come to the idea that both of you were special," said Hermione, taking over. "Voldemort could just as easily have chosen you, Neville."
"Exactly," said Harry, enthusiastically. "I don't think it's a coincidence that your parents were attacked, just as mine were. It might have happened at the same time. Voldemort chose me to mark…but he targeted you, too. There must be good reason for that. Which is why I've wanted to get you onside, Nev. It's really important that anyone who can work against Voldemort does. Now more than ever."
"And you think I can?" Neville returned in a low croak. "But…I'm nothing…I'm a rubbish wizard, everyone says so."
"You are not a rubbish wizard!" Enola cried suddenly. "Who said that? Let them tell me that, and see what happens!"
There was such vitriol in her tone that Hermione felt an instant rush of affection for Enola. No-one ever defended Neville, it was warming to see someone finally doing it. Hermione was very fond of Enola just then.
"Everyone says it, don't they, Harry?"
"I don't say it," Harry replied firmly, meeting Neville's stare with fierce resolution.
"No, nor do I," Hermione nodded. "And Professor Sprout says your innate skills in Herbology border on the elemental. So you aren't great at Potions or flying. Who cares? Nobody's perfect, Neville."
"Though you do a fair impression of it," Harry winked at her.
"Hush you," said Hermione, her cheeks flaming as she smiled back at him. "Anyway, as we are trying to point out, you are not rubbish. Far from it."
"And since you've gotten your own wand, I hear that your general skill is improving, in all your classes," said Harry. "Dumbledore was telling me a lot of the teachers are commending your improvement."
"They are?" Neville grinned, his face flushing to match Hermione's. For her part, she beamed at Harry. She wasn't sure if he was telling the truth or not, but it was the sort of white lie told to boost someone that Harry was prone to. She felt such a sense of adoration for him, as she stared into his face, that she was mindless with it for a second.
"Yeah," Harry went on. "I have private lessons with him, and he told me."
"Well…I do feel better with my own wand," said Neville, thoughtfully. "My old one was always resisting me, trying to do its own thing. It never trusted me, or me it."
"Which explains everything," said Hermione. "Even if you borrow a wand, it might not perform as well as your own one. It's an extension of you, so far as I understand the lore, so you and the core of the wand develop a symbiosis. Now that you've finally gotten that, your natural power is starting to show."
"I suppose," said Neville. He still looked doubtful.
"Which is why I want to work more closely with you," said Harry. "The Prophecy not only linked me and Voldemort, and him and you…but me and you too. We are Brothers in Prophecy. Now you have your own wand your power is rising…and we can work together and see if we can't give Lord Voldemort something to lose sleep over."
"I'm still not sure," said Neville. "My wand can't be that important to my magic, can it?"
"It's true," said Enola. "Take my wand, for example." She drew it from her cloak sleeve. It was sheer whitewood, about ten inches, and emerged with a sweep of magic that caused everyone's hair to ruffle as if in a heavy breeze. "Oh…sorry. I hope that didn't hurt. I'm terribly clumsy."
"It tickled," Hermione grinned. "But go on."
"You see, in my coven, we had to fashion our own wands," Enola explained. "It was the only way to develop a true relationship of trust and respect with natural magic. The process took years. As soon as we were old enough, we had to spend hours meditating in sacred forests, trying to connect with our natural spirit guides, of flora and fauna. It took me four years to discover that whitewood spruce was my sacred wood."
"Fascinating," Hermione said in wonder. "May I?"
"Of course," said Enola, handing her wand over.
Hermione inspected it critically. "I can certainly feel the power in it. What's the core?"
"Powdered claw of the Cwn Annfwn," Enola replied. "They are the red-eared fairy hounds who live in the Welsh Underworld. They chase wrongdoers and hunt them into the ground, and if they come to you in friendship they expect you to do the same."
"I think we can trust her, Harry!" Hermione laughed, handing the wand back to Enola.
"Good, that's what we brought you here to find out," said Harry, turning to the others.
"Come on, Harry, out with it. The suspense is killing me," Neville chortled.
"What we are going to ask you to do might lead to the same."
Harry fixed Neville with a serious stare. It seemed to turn Neville to cold iron. He nodded in firm acquiescence.
"That's just my game. Go on."
"We've all seen these Grey Robes going round the school," Harry began.
"We have," Enola quirked. "But we've seen less of them today. I hear we have you to thank for that."
"I'm nothing if not a living legend," Harry grinned back. "Anyway, I'm concerned about how fast they are growing, and the influence they are starting to wield."
"Things are bad now, but we think they will get a hundred times worse," said Hermione. "And soon."
"And, I suppose, for someone with your background, that's a worry," Neville muttered solemnly.
Hermione nodded. "Me and all others like me."
Neville growled angrily. "I assume you have a plan to fight it?"
"There's my buddy," Harry barked. "We are trying to develop one. But we need people we can trust. These Grey Robes are everywhere…and we aren't just talking about the ones we can see."
"Meaning?" asked Enola.
"Meaning," said Hermione. "That for every student in a grey robe, there could be at least two more who are collecting information or trying to recruit others to the movement. Our list of allies is a short one right now."
"What we need to do is gather our own intelligence," said Harry. "We need to know who's on our side, and who isn't. If the Grey Robes step up their control campaign, we need to be ready."
"So you need spies," said Neville. He looked bright with fervour. "Count me in. I've been itching to get involved"
"Me too," said Enola. "But us four wont be enough. We'll need others."
"We know," said Hermione. "Our goal is to get two people from each House. A boy and a girl from each if possible. We are drawing up a list. We intend you to be our Gryffindor Agents."
"Well, if it's seeing you need, I might be able to help with that," said Enola, her eyes flashing.
"Of course!" Harry cried. "Celesca! Do you think she will help us? I was going to ask our friend, Luna. She moves around without people paying her much attention. She'd be perfect for this."
"Yeah, I think she would," said Enola. "And if she agrees, Cesc definitely will. They've gotten very…er…close...if you know what I mean."
"What!" Neville shouted, snapping his head around. "You never told me that!"
"It's not my secret to tell," said Enola, unabashed. "And it isn't yours either, so please don't say anything."
"Oh, I wont," said Neville. "But you can't ask me not to think about it. They're both very pretty girls, if you know what I mean…"
Hermione and Enola exchanged a look of damning pity, and an expression that quite clearly said 'typical boy'. Hermione looked at Harry, but he had suddenly become very interested in the label on his Butterbeer bottle and didn't raise his eyes to meet Hermione's little frown. She clucked her tongue at him, but he kept his head resolutely still.
"Okay, we'll leave recruiting Celesca to you, Enola," said Hermione, her tone cross and irritated. "Harry will go to Luna, once he's grown up."
Harry finally raised his head. "Sorry, that was childish of me. Yes, I'll go and speak to Luna later. What we had in mind was a sort of Special Operations Executive, made up of members of the DA that we can trust. Along with our new recruits, obviously."
Harry tilted his bottle in Enola's direction in a gesture of salute.
"Well, we will be members Three and Four then," said Neville stoutly. "How are we going to do this?"
"Take these," said Harry. He handed them two quartz pendants. "These are Memory Crystals. If you hear or see anything interesting, tap your wand to the pendant and cast the spell 'Memento'. It will record the memory, then give the pendant to me. I know how to extract the memory. Don't write anything down, don't create any sort of trail that might lead back to you."
"And don't take any unnecessary risks," Hermione added, seriously. "Don't go out of your way to find things. Not yet. For now, we just want information. Lets try and do this with our presence going unnoticed."
"It wont last forever, but let's stick to the shadows for now," said Harry. "What I want you to focus on, Nev, is Ron. Ginny Weasley is deep into this, and we need to now where Ron stands. He's a little bit of a conundrum right now. Keep an eye on him, see if you can tell how the land lies with him."
"But be constantly vigilant," said Hermione. "Ron might let something slip to us, but he's also as suspicious and paranoid as they come. He could do the same in the other direction. We cant trust anyone…apart from each other…and whoever else we bring in. Remember that."
The four of them nodded in silent agreement. It felt like a covenant had settled between them, the severity of the situation suddenly becoming that bit more real.
But, at least it had begun.
It was a couple of days before Harry managed to approach Luna with his request. She was surprisingly hard to find, like some elusive sprite who did her own thing around the castle. The end of the school week proved fruitless to locate her, so it was Sunday afternoon by the time Harry left a revising Hermione with a swift kiss, before heading out on his Luna-hunt with fresh determination in his mind.
He checked the usual spots - the Great Hall, courtyard, all the magical recreation locations - to no avail. She wasn't likely to be at the Quidditch pitch, but Harry checked anyway. She wasn't feeding Hippogriffs or the Giant Squid, and Harry was starting to get slightly concerned that something had happened to her, when he suddenly spotted a blonde-headed figure down by the boathouse.
Without taking his eyes off her, Harry hurried down the narrow stone stairs to reach the jetty. A few moments later and he was coming up on the boathouse proper, and finally reached his quarry shortly after that.
"There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you!" Harry panted, reaching the end of the little pier.
Luna turned her head, her wide-eyes looking more surprised than ever, and that was saying something.
"Oh…were you?" she asked, as surprised as if someone told her she'd been awarded a thousand galleons simply for being blonde. "That's nice. Why?"
Harry chuckled and sat down next to her. Luna had her little shoes off, her white socks stuffed awkwardly into them, and was merrily kicking her feet in the water. Harry was drawn to how tiny her toes were. It was an odd thing to notice, but he did.
"Isn't the water cold?" Harry asked, looking out across the Lake, which was a sullen sort of grey today.
"A little, but I don't mind it," Luna smiled sweetly. "Why have you been looking for me? Am I in trouble?"
"No, of course not," said Harry, bemused.
"Oh, that's alright then. Are you?"
"No," Harry laughed. "Unless you count my going with out Hermione Granger. That's a sort of trouble all of its own!"
Luna blinked at him pleasantly. Harry hesitated at her look…was it right to get her involved with something so dangerous, as he was about to suggest? Luna was so innocent, she ought not to be infected by the gathering darkness. But, as Harry reasoned with his next thought, if the evil of Voldemort spread, everyone would be affected by it, innocent or not.
And Harry couldn't shake the impact of Luna in the Department of Mysteries battle last year. Besides himself, she alone had emerged unscathed. That told a secret story all of its own…this girl could handle herself.
"What is it then, Harry?" Luna pressed. "What have you been looking for me for?"
"I need to ask you something, but it's secret and dangerous and I don't know if I should," Harry confessed.
"Is this about being a spy? I'd be honoured to help!"
She said it so matter-of-factly that Harry nearly toppled into the water in his surprise.
"How do you know that?" Harry asked.
"Cesc told me," said Luna easily. "Her friend, Enola, has already asked her, and she said you might ask me. We tell each other everything. She's my girlfriend now, did you know? I do like her ever so much."
Harry's astonishment wasn't lessening. "No, I…I didn't know that. Wowser."
"Are you surprised, that I like witches?" asked Luna, sweetly.
"No, no of course not," said Harry, who found himself unusually surprised. "I don't suppose I've ever really thought too much about it."
"No, neither had I," said Luna, thoughtfully. "Then I met Celesca and it sort of clicked. She said she didn't like girls…like that…either, before me. So I think I'm quite lucky, really."
"Wow," said Harry, scratching his chin in wonder. "So, she knows…about the spying thing?"
"Oh yes, she told me all about it."
"And…what does she think?"
"She's going to help, of course," said Luna. "And so will I. Oh, Harry…I'm ever so pleased you asked me to join you! I so like to be helpful. I wont let you down, I promise."
"I know you wont," said Harry supportively. "That's why I thought of you right away. I can't think of many people I trust more. Hermione, of course, but not many more. If any."
Luna beamed so bright it was like she was her own little star. "Oh…I trust you, too, Harry! It is scary, though. And dangerous."
"Very," said Harry. "Which I why I want you to promise me you'll be careful. Promise."
"I promise," said Luna, faithfully. "But, what do you want me to look out for?"
"Right now we just want to know who is working with the Grey Robes, and who might be on our side," said Harry. "But we have to do it quietly, from the shadows. We don't want them to know who we are or what we're doing."
"No, we wouldn't want that," Luna agreed. "I have a few ideas already, I'll write them down -"
"NO!" Harry cried hotly. "Don't record anything like that. Here, take these."
He handed Luna a couple of Memory Pendants and repeated the instructions he'd given to Neville and Enola.
"Whoever you suspect, think about them, and cast the spell so the thought enters the Pendant," said Harry. "We have to assume the Grey Robes will eventually get wind of us, and try to find out what we know. If you have no evidence to incriminate you, you'll be alright."
"Okay, Harry. I'll be careful."
"Are you sure you want to to this, it's your last chance to back out," said Harry.
"Evil flourishes when good witches do nothing," said Luna, her voice drifting on the breeze. "I'm a good witch, Harry…and I can't sit by and do nothing. If I can help, I want to. Don't worry about me…I'm tougher than I look."
"I know that, I saw you at the Ministry," said Harry. "You fought badder than twenty trained Aurors. I was so proud of you. I should have told you that sooner. I'm sorry."
Then Luna did something totally unexpected…she reached over and hugged Harry. Hugged him with such affection that Harry felt it rush all through him. It rendered him speechless.
"Thank you, Harry…thank you," Luna breathed gently into his shoulder. "You're the greatest wizard, you really are. I'm lucky to be your friend."
Harry just hugged her back, unable to reply. This was a bizarre magic, pure and paralysing all at once. It was like being in an envelope of gratitude and friendship, utterly pleasant and comfortable.
It was something worth fighting evil forces to defend.
After a moment, Luna disengaged herself and went back to her contented paddling. Harry watched her a moment, then stood to leave.
"I'm going to go now," he said. "Take care, Luna."
"Yes. I will."
"And tell Celesca thank you from me. I really appreciate the risk she's taking."
"She knows," said Luna dreamily. "She always knows. But I'll still tell her, if you like."
"Please do. Where is she today?"
"With her mother," said Luna. "When she has her period, her Seer powers are at their worst for her. She's in terrible pain, and only Professor Roth can help her stay in one piece. I'm ever so worried about her."
Harry felt his heart bleed a little. Fear wasn't an aspect that belonged in Luna's ethereal tone of voice. But there is was, and it struck Harry like an arrow to the chest.
"I'm sure she will be okay," said Harry, in hope as much as anything. He didn't know nearly enough to make an assertive judgement on the matter. Celesca Roth was such an enigma of a girl.
Luna didn't reply, but Harry could feel her smiling sadly to herself. It felt time to leave her to her thoughts, so Harry slipped quietly away and made his way back along the jetty and towards the castle. Hogwarts seemed strangely quiet as Harry moved around it, the corridors oddly muted. There was no distant chatter, no students running about, it was as if Harry had stepped into another time.
And then, he heard it…a voice…as if coming from the wall itself.
"It wont hurt…just a test…only a little cut, really…."
Harry stopped, his heart thudding hard. He suddenly felt like he was twelve-years-old again, and standing in this very corridor…hearing an altogether different disembodied voice…
"Okay. Stay calm, Harry…the basilisk is dead," Harry said aloud. But still…that voice.
Harry took a breath and moved a bit further, as far as the next torch, when another voice spoke. A woman's this time. She sounded frightened.
"No…no I won't do it…I won't be another one of your experiments, Albus…"
Albus? Harry's heart erupted again, but not necessarily at the mention of the Hogwarts Headmaster. But it was the voice…the voice of the frightened woman. For it wasn't a woman, now that Harry thought about it. It was a girl…but the voice was undeniably familiar. For Harry had heard it several times before…
Specifically, every time a Dementor came near him.
The thought chilled Harry to the bone-marrow. He pulled his clock tight around him, his new cloak, one Dobby had created for him from his birthing shroud. He didn't feel comfortable with Dumbledore's overt interest in it, so decided to keep it close at all times. The elf had done a cracking job with the transformation, and Harry was very fond of it.
His mother had used it to keep him safe…was he now hearing her words from inside the very fabric?
Harry hugged into the cloak now, and let the echoes of the voice guide him on. There was a connection to the torches, as though the voices were coming from the flames themselves, weaved into the crackling and spitting of the burning sconces. Harry moved along to the next one, and sure enough…
"We are so close, perhaps even to create a purer Stone than the Flamellian Ruby…you have made such advances in the field…if we could just take the next steps…"
"The next steps, in your mind, are 'backward steps'…alchemy is about a 'cohesion' of souls…I want no part in that 'splitting' art you are so obsessed with…"
"But I…how do you know?"
"In your eyes, Albus…clear as day…where is the other part of your soul? Where did you put it? No, don't tell me. I don't want to know…just you know that I will not be part of this…I like my soul as it is, whole and in one piece…"
"Miss Evans, please…"
The voices faded away, and Harry fell back against the wall, breathing hard. His thoughts were racing, scrambling over each other to be considered first. He didn't know where to start…well, actually, he did…and it wasn't here in this deserted corridor. He needed help, and for that he needed -
"Hermione! I…I just…"
"Just what?" said Hermione, instantly frantic at Harry's dishevelled look. She leapt up from her textbooks. "What's wrong? Has someone attacked you? Who was it?"
She snapped her wand from its wrist-holster and waved it around as if ready to curse unseen enemies over Harry's shoulder. He gripped her wrist and held it firm.
"Careful! You'll take my eye out like that!"
"You wear glasses," Hermione pointed out. "The worst I'll do is crack the lens."
"The shards of which could stab me in the eye," Harry argued. "Anyway, forget that now. I wasn't attacked, so get that knot out of your knickers. I have something important to tell you. I was coming back from seeing Luna -"
"Oh, you found her," said Hermione, re-holstering her wand and easing down on her restless energy. "Will she help us?"
"Yeah, she already knew," said Harry. "She was glad to join our cause. Celesca told her I was going to ask. Or, should I say, her girlfriend told her."
"Girlfriend? That happened fast," Hermione, mused.
"Why are you not at all surprised by this?" asked Harry.
"Should I be?" Hermione replied. "So Luna prefers witches to wizards. What's the big deal?"
"Well, I don't suppose there's a big deal," said Harry, sheepishly. "But…I don't know…I didn't expect it, that's all. And they're so young."
Hermione scoffed at that. "Celesca is our age, Luna only a year younger."
"Yeah…but aren't people older when they decide…you know…that sort of thing?"
Hermione looked at Harry in deep pity. "I'm almost offended by your denseness. You don't really think that, do you? That's from the Ron Weasley school of logic, that is."
"Now I'm definitely offended," Harry chortled. "But, what I mean is, we might be their age but…you've never liked girls, have you?"
"Maybe I have," said Hermione sultrily. ""But you'll never know who, as I'm obviously too young for anything of the kind."
Harry's jaw hit the carpet. "Y-you have? Who?"
Hermione erupted in giggles. "No-one, Harry! I'm just making the point. I've pretty much fancied you since you rescued me from the troll. If I was old enough to like you then, Luna and Celesca and more than able to like each other now."
"Yeah…yeah, I suppose you're right," said Harry, rubbing his overwrought head. "Did you really fancy me after the troll?"
"Rabidly," said Hermione. "I'll tell you all about it one day. But you were about to tell me something just as important."
"Oh yeah, how did I get so distracted? Anyway…"
And Harry recounted the details of the disembodied voices in the torches. Hermione was a good audience, absorbing all the details like a sponge. When Harry finished, she sat in silence for a minute or so, considering her response.
"This is worrying, Harry. Very worrying," she said eventually.
"What do you make of it?" Harry asked. "It…it sounded to me like my mum was talking to Dumbledore about Horcruxes. She said he was obsessed with them. What do think about that?"
"I'd rather not say," said Hermione. "I've been thinking about that a lot. And the implications bother me."
"How so?"
"Just look at what we know," Hermione continued. "Lord Voldemort has split his soul into seven pieces, a couple of which we've destroyed. There is a book in the library about the topic with no credited author. Now we have you hearing the echo of a conversation where your mother accuses Dumbledore of knowing and, we can infer, experimenting with them."
"You do believe me, then?" asked Harry.
"Of course," said Hermione stoically. "You were right about the basilisk, you're right about this. I have no doubt."
"And what do you think it means?"
"I think it means that we have a good idea who wrote Secrets of the Darkest Arte."
Harry drew a sharp breath. "Dumbledore…you think he invented Horcruxes? Why?"
"The German connection," said Hermione flatly. "I've always wondered why Dumbledore was required to defeat The Dark Wizard Grindelwald. We aren't looking to foreign powers to help with Voldemort, are we? And I can find no record of there ever being an international wizarding war, one that would have pitted Dumbledore and Grindelwald against each other. But there is a curious piece of information about that."
"Which is?"
"Dumbledore beat Grindelwald here, in Britain," Hermione explained. "He was extradited back to Austria by the Wizengamot after his defeat. It's all on public record. The question is, why was Grindelwald here in the first place, if he was such an enemy of the free world?"
"I'm assuming you have an opinion on this. Care to share it?"
Hermione frowned at Harry's sassiness. "What I'm wondering is…what if Grindelwald wasn't an enemy of Dumbledore…but a friend? What if they were trying to develop Horcruxes together?"
Harry felt his breath tremble at the notion. "They would certainly be powerful enough…the two most powerful sorcerers of their age. And it would explain the German entries in the Humongous Book of Horcruxes. But they ended up fighting…that doesn't make sense."
"Perhaps something went wrong, the process didn't go as planned," Hermione postulated. "Perhaps someone else got hurt in the fallout. Someone close to Dumbledore…and he went crazy in the thirst for vengeance. You've told me his temper can be volcanic when roused."
"What about his brother? He lives in Hogsmeade," said Harry. "We could go and ask him."
"No, I don't think it's him," said Hermione. She gulped a deep breath. "I messaged my Mum, asked her to look at the family tree tapestry in Grimmauld Place. Specifically for the Dumbledore family. She found the name Dumbledore was screaming when he had that fit…Ariana…Harry - it was his sister."
"Sister?" Harry mumbled. "I didn't know he had a sister. And you think she got hurt somehow, maybe while Dumbledore was trying to make a Horcrux?"
"Yes, yes I do," said Hermione firmly. "Secrets of the Darkest Arte focuses heavily on animal sacrifice, at least in the early sections. I'm going to go out on a limb and suggest Dumbledore was trying to create a Horcrux…using a goat. Something went awry, Ariana got caught in the crossfire - maybe she was trying to stop him, knowing how Dark the magic was - and she was killed. Maybe instead of the goat. Dumbledore panicked, but it was too late. The ritual was underway.
"So, his soul split, and his sister was dead. There were two displaced souls in that room, and I'd bet that Dumbledore forced one into the goat. I don't know at this point if it was his own fragment, or his sister's, but I wouldn't be surprised to find out that his brother's crimes against goats aren't actually all part of it."
"Inappropriate charms!" Harry cried. "Of course. Aberforth might be trying to keep the goat - and the soul fragment in it - alive!"
"Or passing it from one goat to another," said Hermione. "It's Dark Magic either way. It would ostracise Aberforth, making him a leper to the rest of magical society. Maybe he's taking the fall, deflecting attention from his brother. Or maybe Albus has coerced him somehow. He seems more and more prone to that sort of thing. It's just an idea, though."
"One that makes a ton of sense," said Harry. "We need to find out more. But where do we start?"
"With these voices of yours," said Hermione. "We have to try and recreate the effect somehow. We should have done that with the basilisk, tried to understand more about what was happening to you."
"But, back then, I only heard the basilisk as it was moving through the pipework," Harry pointed out. "This seemed to be more like a memory."
"It still came from somewhere, Harry," Hermione reasoned. "Which means something triggered it. We need to find out what, and how we can make it happen again. There might be more to learn…no, there must be."
"Is there anything we can do now?" Harry wondered. "The ghost, echo, whatever it was, of my mum mentioned alchemy…and a 'cohesion of souls'. Now what in the name of Merlin can that mean?"
"I don't know, but this is your area of study," said Hermione. "Have you come across anything that could refer to?"
Harry thought hard. "Only in the esoteric definition, of the philosophical side of the Work. The Red King and White Queen have to unite to create the enlightened being, the illuminated philosopher. I haven't got far enough to really understand what that means."
"Then perhaps we need to skip a few modules," said Hermione. "I can't imagine that what you heard was random. Someone was trying to tell you something, Harry. Something important."
Harry considered that. "You may be right…but who was it, and how can I tell what they were trying to say?"
They both sat there and considered the question. It was another riddle…and they only had room in their thinking for one of those…
Which was a damned shame. As the very next day, the biggest Riddle in their lives turned up unexpectedly at Hogwarts, demanding an audience with the Headmaster.
