A/N: I am building six bookcases over the course of my short spring break while simultaneously trying to adjust to contact lenses. Pity me.
Anti-Litigation Charm: I do not own.
Please review!
Harry sat on his bed, holding up his father's invisibility cloak for inspection. Aside from the fact that it was beautiful and valuable beyond what money could ever offer him, it did not look particularly special. Yet, when Harry asked Ron, his red-headed friend confirmed what Dumbledore had said: Invisibility cloaks tended to wear out as time went on. And yet his father's cloak had survived generations. It was special. It was unique.
He glanced back at the Marauder's Map, which lay open at the foot of the bed, all moving black lines and spidery ink. He had asked the Map to tell him what it knew about his father's invisibility cloak, and though the Map had responded, it was still singularly unhelpful. It told him about the time they snuck into the Whomping Willow under the Invisibility Cloak ("The tree can sense you under the cloak, so beware," Prongs had offered) it had nothing meaningful to add to any questions about the Invisibility Cloak's history as a Hallow. Truthfully, Harry was unsurprised, as he had reasonably suspected his father had been as blind to the Cloak's true value as Harry himself right up until that moment in Dumbledore's office.
His eyes traveled down the corridors outlined in the map, tracing them on their way to the Defence classroom, finally landing on it and its occupant. And then his eyes went down to the dungeons, to the tiny room that had an entrance but no details. The two footprints were simply behind the door, which meant the Map knew they were there, but did not know what they were up to beyond that point. It was past curfew now, which meant going down to try and speak to her would be the height of foolishness. Particularly with her husband present. And truth to be told, Harry rather suspected that hounding her about the ring was not going to make her give it up. He would have to wait. For what opportune moment, he did not know, but he vowed to make one at Christmas. They would be at the Burrow. She would be relaxed. He might even chance using Felix Felicis.
He jolted upright as he realized that Hermione had also assigned him some reading on Grindelwald after their last discussion. He had forgotten it entirely, and only just now remembered. Stuffing the map into his pocket after a quick check on Filch's whereabouts, he pulled on the Invisibility Cloak and left the room. He quietly tip-toed through the common room and pushed open the portrait, who was snoring softly in her frame, and began making his way to the library.
When he quietly slipped inside, he immediately strode toward the history section, only to realize he was not alone. Someone was kneeling on the floor with an open book, curled up against the wall in an effort not to be seen. Whoever it was, they were attempting to read by the moonlight that filtered through the window to avoid detection by casting. And he was not alone, Harry realized, when Draco Malfoy's familiar, pale face appeared behind him with another book under his arm.
"Find anything?" he whispered.
Harry froze, hardly daring to breathe, not wanting to be caught by making the slightest sound. Malfoy was a Prefect. Harry had seen him wandering the Library after hours, but he had assumed he was snooping about on his rounds. Their intersections past curfew was clearly not a coincidence.
"No, nothing," Selenius whispered.
Draco said nothing, kneeling down on the floor beside him.
"There's nothing else for it," Selenius said quietly. "We'll have to try the Restricted Section."
"The Dark Lord wants the book taken out of the library," Draco muttered. "We can't just take notes from them, either." He grimaced visibly. "This is going to be a pain, when we do find it."
"Aren't there supposed to be charms that stop books from being taken without being properly checked out?" Selenius muttered. "I thought I read that in Hogwarts, A History."
"I'll find a way to strip them when we find them." Draco patted Selenius's shoulder. "Come on. Let's take a look at the Restricted Section."
Harry felt his jaw drop open. He had been so busy that Malfoy hadn't even been on his radar, but now he wondered just what Voldemort had told him to do. It made sense, too. He found himself wondering if Malfoy had taken the Dark Mark. He was also more than a bit peeved that Selenius was helping him, and wondered how furious Hermione would be if—or rather, when—she found out. Curiosity about Grindelwald forgotten, Harry slowly followed the two boys through the library.
"Don't touch anything," he heard Draco whisper. "If you see something, tell me first."
"I'm not stupid," Selenius shot back.
"No, but you're an arrogant little prat," Draco snapped in an undertone, "who doesn't do as he's told."
Pot, kettle, Harry thought.
"I stroked its spine! It stopped snarling! I wasn't expecting it to bite me!" Selenius hissed. "And that was over a month ago!"
"We weren't going to find anything in The Monster Book of Monsters anyway," Draco told him dismissively. "The Dark Lord could pick that up in any old shop. He's looking for something else." Harry saw him rub his face, looking agitated. "I doubt it's even in the library to begin with. Dumbledore probably removed it by now, along with those other books he told us about."
"It must be a terrible book," Selenius whispered. There was a pause. "I would have thought your parents would have had it somewhere."
"No. They never found a copy. Besides," Draco added, almost self-importantly, "each copy is unique. The Dark Lord wants the one Hogwarts has— the dragon-bound edition."
Harry was starting to get very annoyed, as he still had no idea what book they were talking about, though he had a very clear idea of what they were referring to when they spoke of the other books. Dumbledore himself had told him he had removed the books on Horcruxes from the library upon becoming Headmaster. He had a rather clear picture of what the two of them were doing here, however. Clearly, Voldemort had sent Malfoy to steal a particular book from the Hogwarts library, and Selenius was tagging along.
"We should have checked the Restricted Section ages ago," Selenius mumbled. "A book like Convulsions of Nature would never just be lying around for a student to find anyway."
Harry had never even heard of the title before.
He watched the two of them slink around the shelves. At one point, they both glanced over their shoulders, as though to check that they were well and truly alone, and then lit their wands, scanning the titles lined up from top to bottom. It was boring work, though more than once, Draco had to yank Selenius back by the neck of his robes to stop him from picking one up.
"I thought I told you not to touch!"
"I can't help it! Can't you strip it or something so I can have a look?"
"Curiosity—"
"Curiosity killed the cat, satisfaction brought it back!" Selenius chanted in an undertone. "Now do it!"
"Who taught you that, your mother?" the blond-haired boy sniped back, but he pulled the book out, tapping the cover with his wand. It let out a rattling breath, and then fell open. Selenius eagerly grabbed for it.
"Yes, actually." Selenius knelt down on the floor, flipping through the book.
Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. "If I leave you here with this, promise me you won't touch anything else."
"On my honor as a Gryffindor," Selenius said, looking up and trying to look as innocent as possible.
"Liar." But Draco turned on his heel and disappeared down another bookshelf. Harry tip-toed past Selenius, stopping long enough to peer over his shoulder to see what he was reading. He was met with a list of spells, ordered alphabetically, though it was difficult to see their names through the mesh of his cloak. Deciding that Selenius was rather absorbed enough in the book to not be a danger to himself, he quietly followed Draco into the dark depths of the restricted section.
"Stupid, stupid kid," Harry heard Draco quietly muttering to himself. "Stupid, stupid Gryffindor…"
And then he was silent. Harry felt rather foolish, standing there as a silent spectator as Draco meticulously went through the rows, shelf by shelf. He checked his watch some time later, and realized that it was nearly one o'clock in the morning—they had been here for hours, accomplishing nothing. A quarter of an hour later, footsteps caught their attention, and Draco froze in alarm.
For a moment, Harry thought it was just Selenius—and the boy did appear a moment later, the book clasped firmly to his chest. But his eyes had a look of panic, and he was making a hand signal to Draco that spurred the older boy to action immediately. There was another set of footsteps now, louder this time, and Draco and Selenius disappeared under the older boy's Disillusionment Charm just in time for Filch to round the corner.
All three of them froze, holding themselves perfectly still as Filch stalked through the aisle.
"I could have sworn I saw a light…" the old caretaker muttered, peering into the darkness suspiciously. He held a lantern out in front of him and shook it slightly, causing light to dance between the shelves. "Students out of bed—well, we'll find them, won't we, my pretty?" he asked, and Harry saw Mrs. Norris winding around his legs.
Harry was fairly certain the mangy cat could see through Disillusionment Charms, if given enough time—he was also certain she had once almost caught him under the Invisibility Cloak in fourth year. If Malfoy and Selenius moved, they would be caught. If they didn't, Mrs. Norris would find them. He would have done a little jig at Malfoy being caught in such a damnable position, but he couldn't leave Selenius to the tender mercies of Argus Filch.
He made a quick decision. Snapping his wand upward underneath the cloak, he silently commanded, Wingardium Leviosa!
A book shuddered from the opposite aisle, and then slowly slid out of its place. Filch turned at the sound, and let out a shriek.
"I've got you now, you little miscreant!" He hobbled forward with surprising speed, and Mrs. Norris leapt after him, tail fluffed high. Harry saw Malfoy and Selenius dart away, and turned around in time to see Filch grasping at the thin air right around where the book was hovering, looking profoundly shocked to find nothing. He released the charm, and quietly side-stepped away, tip-toeing in the other direction as the book fell to the floor.
And then he ran like hell, with Filch's enraged cry echoing at his back.
"Leave the book—leave it!" he heard Malfoy hiss at Selenius as he neared the entrance.
"I can't! They only suspect someone was here, but it we leave it lying around, they'll know for sure!"
"Why you little—give it here!" Harry skidded to a halt near the door, watching as Malfoy yanked the book from Selenius. His form shimmered for a moment as he cast a spell, and then he shoved the book back at Selenius. "Take it. Now let's get out."
They disappeared into the corridor, peeling off in two entirely different direction. Harry sped off in the direction of Gryffindor Tower, managing to slip inside just mere inches behind Selenius as the Portrait grumpily swung open.
"I swear, all your nighttime wanders…" the Fat Lady mumbled sleepily.
"I'm sorry," he heard Selenius whisper. There was a whispered, "Finite Incantatem!" and he melted back into view. "It's really important."
"That's what they all say," the Fat Lady replied, and then was silent.
Harry watched Selenius take in deep gulps of air, and then he staggered over to the fireplace and collapsed in one of the chairs, book still wrapped firmly against his chest.
Harry watched him regain his breath, and made a decision, yanking off his Invisibility Cloak.
"What were you doing with Malfoy tonight?"
Selenius wheeled around in the armchair so fast Harry thought he might give himself whiplash, and let out a strangled shriek of surprise.
"I—you!" He staggered to his feet, and checking the stairs rapidly to make sure nobody was coming down, pulled out his wand. "How?"
"Don't," Harry began, thinking Selenius was about to hex him.
"Muffliato." Harry frowned at the unfamiliar spell, and Selenius let his arm drop by his side. He was breathing hard, and for a moment, Harry had never thought he looked more like his father, as he had seen him when cornered by the four Marauders. Panting. Afraid.
And sharp as a whip.
"You followed me!" the younger boy accused.
"I had some research of my own to do in the library," Harry said, stuffing his invisibility cloak into his pocket. "Imagine how surprised I was to find you there."
Selenius's eyes glittered. "You were the one who distracted Filch, weren't you?"
"You can thank me for that by telling me what you two were doing there," Harry said in an undertone.
"We were looking for a book," Selenius snapped. "Obviously."
"In the Restricted Section?" Harry asked, glancing over at the stairs, hoping they wouldn't be overheard.
"It's not like you've never been there, either!"
Of course. Hermione would have told her son about their escapades. Harry could have smacked himself.
Very quietly, he asked, "Why does Voldemort want Draco Malfoy to steal a book for him, Selenius?"
To his credit, the younger boy did not flinch.
"I don't know, and it's none of your business." He turned away, still clutching the book he'd stolen, and stalked toward the stairs. "I'm going to bed."
He flicked his wand, cancelling the spell he'd cast earlier, but Harry grabbed his arm.
"What spell did you just cast?"
"A Muffling spell." Selenius yanked his arm away. "My father taught it to me. Now bugger off."
Harry watched him disappear up the stairs. He could have followed, but he knew it wouldn't do much good. Selenius was keeping Malfoy's secrets, for whatever reason, and he wasn't about to answer to Harry. Harry might try kicking him off the Quidditch Team to twist his arm a bit, or threaten to tell his mother, but in the grand scheme of things, he didn't think it would do much good. Selenius was stubborn as a mule, and would lie no matter what Harry did.
Still, he was going to tell Hermione that Draco Malfoy was up to something. Or Dumbledore. He was not quite sure yet which one he wanted to confide in.
He turned away, flopping down on the armchair the younger boy had abandoned. On a whim, his lifted up his wand and twitched it upwards.
"Muffliato."
And then he picked up an empty ink bottle someone had left lying around and chucked it at the mantle. It shattered with a loud, alarming sound. He glanced up at the stairs, checking to see if anyone had heard. When no one appeared to see what the ruckus was about, Harry leaned back in the chair, looking rather satisfied with himself.
~o~O~o~
His next session with Hermione was the following evening, and Harry finally found some insight on the orders Voldemort had given Malfoy.
"My Lord, my son reports he's scoured the library top to bottom," he heard Lucius Malfoy whisper weakly. The blond-haired man looked ill, frail even, as he faced his master. "He's finally begun his search through the Restricted Section."
"And if your son does not find it there?" Voldemort asked softly.
"He will—he will search Dumbledore's office, my lord."
"He will search every inch of the castle."
"He will search everywhere," Malfoy agreed weakly.
Harry withdrew. Ginny squeezed his hand. He squeezed back.
"What did you see?" Ron asked immediately.
"Voldemort," Harry said, sitting up straighter and rubbing his temple, "is looking for something in the castle." Seeing their questioning faces, he clarified, "A book. Malfoy's looking in the Restricted Section."
Hermione's eyes glinted dangerously at this. "Which book?"
"He didn't say," Harry answered truthfully. It was a white lie, but if Hermione was going to keep things from him, he wasn't going to be entirely forthcoming with her. If she was going to do research before divulging, he was going to do the same.
"I don't want you drawing attention by confronting Malfoy about this, Harry."
"Of course not." Hermione raised a skeptical eyebrow at him, and he added heatedly, "I won't."
Potions that day was a painful experience. Malfoy was jumpy, twitchy as a ferret, and he looked pale and drawn. He glanced over at Harry several times, and Harry knew—he just knew—that Selenius must have told him about being followed.
"What are you looking at, Potter?" he sneered when Harry had caught him glancing over at him.
"Nothing," Harry said with a shrug.
"Eyes on your own work, Potter," Snape said without looking up from his book.
Malfoy gave him a cruel, smug sneer at this, but Harry could still see past his façade. Deep down, Draco Malfoy was terrified out of his wits.
Harry didn't care. He already had a plan. As soon as class was over, he cornered Selenius on the way to lunch.
"What do you want?" Selenius snapped.
"To apologize," Harry said evenly. "For following you Wednesday night. It wasn't any of my business."
Selenius gave him a suspicious look.
"I haven't told your mother, and I don't plan to." Harry clasped a hand on the boy's shoulder, enjoying the startled look on his face. "Just thought you'd want to know."
He left Selenius Snape gobsmacked on the stairs, and hummed a tune to himself as he made his way to the Great Hall.
"You're looking pleased with yourself," Ginny remarked when he sat down for lunch.
"I am. Pass the marmalade, would you?"
Harry did not follow Selenius or Malfoy on any of the other nights that he knew they must be searching in the Restricted Section, knowing that they would be on guard. But he did watch them on the Marauder's Map, mentally marking their systematic progress. Sometimes, Crookshanks accompanied them; twice, Harry saw him cross paths with Mrs. Norris, only to send the other cat scurrying off in the other direction. If they kept up at this pace, they would probably be done just after Christmas, assuming they stayed over break to continue their search.
The weeks wore on, but the days cycled through a familiar routine, and winter arrived. The halls were decked in icicles and garlands as December was finally upon them, and Hagrid single-handedly dragged in the twelve enormous trees as he did every year. The knights sang broken, garbled versions of Christmas Carols that were occasionally given rude improvisations by Peeves, who was thrice extracted by the aggravated caretaker. Somehow, Mrs. Norris ended up Petrified, painted gold, and levitated atop one of the Christmas trees, much to Filch's horror, but the culprit was never caught. The mangy fleabag was quite alright in the end, though the gold took weeks to wash out.
Harry thought that Crookshanks had never looked so smug, strutting past the tree while the students who had discovered the painted cat shuffled aside to let the teachers through. He also had a vague idea of who might have been responsible—and also of just who might have inspired the culprit—but of course said nothing.
The week before term ended, Harry finally found time to check out several books on Grindelwald.
The last day of class, Harry had his final lesson with Dumbledore before break began. He requested an update on Harry's progress, not looking too disappointed at his failure to acquire the ring before diving into the next set of memories he had procured for them.
"Sir, I read up on Grindelwald a bit," Harry said, as Dumbledore poured the memories. "He knew about the Deathly Hallows, didn't he?"
"To an extent," Dumbledore agreed, swirling the memories around in the basin.
"You defeated him, sir?"
"Eventually," Dumbledore admitted, "though I fear I left it far too late."
Harry frowned. There had been quite a few conflicting accounts in the books. It was clear Dumbledore had won, but there was something about the way they had dueled that bothered him. Things had been said. Words were exchanged. But from an objective historical view, as given in the books Harry had found, there was very little to guide him on this haunch that something was not quite right.
This time, the memory was of Hermione. The previous session had also had a memory of Hermione. Dumbledore was trying to give him information on his friend to help him know how to appeal to her. Harry appreciated it, but deep down, he couldn't see how any of this would help him change Hermione's mind.
They were in Grimmauld Place. Dumbledore was sitting at a table; Hermione had just entered the room, and had taken the seat across from him. She had one leg crossed over the other, and looked perfectly at ease.
"It has come to my attention that you have been enabling Sirius to leave Grimmauld Place," Dumbledore said shortly.
Hermione froze. She stood stock still, like a deer caught in the headlights. Her façade of self-assurance evaporated for all of one moment, before she managed to pull herself together.
Dumbledore added, as though she needed clarification, "I happened to be paying Tine Cottage a visit when I chanced to see the two of them outside."
"Was Sirius sitting on the side of the mailbox closest to the cottage?" Hermione asked carefully. "Because if he was, that meant he was under the protection of the Fidelius Charm. He wouldn't have been in any danger."
"I appreciate that you took measures to increase security on Tine Cottage, and laid down effective ground rules, but the fact that you allowed Sirius to leave Grimmauld Place against my explicit orders to the contrary—"
"You can't keep a man locked up in house arrest forever," Hermione said, and her voice trembled ever so slightly. Dumbledore was not shouting, but his calm, infuriated demeanor was terrifying to behold. It was obvious to anyone who was looking that he was exceptionally angry—and that even Hermione was frightened of him. "Sirius isn't made for sitting inside twiddling his thumbs. You've seen what happens—he gets moody, depressed—it makes him ill, sir. I gave—I gave him an opportunity to get fresh air..."
Dumbledore eyed her calmly. "Did you ever let him venture beyond the reach of the boundaries of the Fidelius Charm?"
Harry saw her back stiffen, as though she were putting her courage in the sticking place, and then looked him straight in the eye. "I would shave his fur, charm it white, and transfigure other parts of his body before he crossed, sir. And he was always in his Animagus form. I never let him out of my sight, and he was always unrecognizable." She let out a hollow laugh. "I doubt even his own mother would have recognized him."
"Nevertheless, Hermione, you let him leave the protection of Grimmauld Place, and even the secondary protection placed on Tine Cottage," Dumbledore said quietly. There was disappointment in his voice. "You've broken my trust in you, by going behind my back and endangering the Order."
Hermione's expression morphed into a mask of calm. It was like gazing upon the surface of an icy lake, indecipherable and incomprehensible. She was going toe to toe with the Headmaster. "Sir, I think you have a rather unreasonable perspective on the matter."
"Oh?" Dumbledore said, his tone surprisingly mild. "Do tell."
"Well," Hermione said coolly, dropping all pretense of respect by appealing to his title, "you have a habit of treating people like chess pieces. I don't mean that as an insult, but I do mean to say that you sometimes seem to forget that there are other things that need to be looked at," Hermione said bravely. "As I said, Sirius needed fresh air. He was going stir-crazy. And I always kept him behind the Fidelius Charm unless I specifically altered his appearance. And even when I wasn't there, I made certain that Sirius understood that he was not go beyond the boundaries I had set for him."
"And what if Sirius had left those boundaries?" Dumbledore asked her quietly. "You know he has a tendency to be hot-headed and reckless."
"I placed my trust in him to not step beyond those boundaries," Hermione said firmly.
"And I placed my trust in you not to do so, either."
"Sirius has not betrayed my trust," Hermione said evenly. "I would never do anything to endanger the Order, but I think you overlooked some crucial aspects of the plan when you consigned Sirius to remain at Headquarters. I actually think that in trying to keep Headquarters as secure as possible, you've endangered it by restricting its principal occupant." She raised an eyebrow, and then added, "Sir."
Dumbledore steepled his fingertips, his expression thoughtful. He was still angry, but he seemed to be giving her words some careful consideration. Hermione sat silently, her gaze calm and unwavering. She was like stone. And she would not be moved.
Finally, Dumbledore spoke.
"I do not wish for Sirius to leave Grimmauld Place until term has been concluded," he said, quiet but firm. "That includes your son. This is not intended as punishment for him, but I think it is safe to say that he should not be out alone, and without Sirius or yourself to supervise him, he has no alternatives."
Hermione slowly shook her head.
"No."
"No?" Dumbledore repeated politely.
"I trust Sirius to supervise him, and I think you ought to trust Sirius to not go beyond the boundaries of the Fidelius." Hermione leaned back in her chair. "Show him a little faith, and he will reward you handsomely."
Dumbledore gazed at her for a long moment, and Harry had the sense that he was reassessing her. Harry was, too. The idea of arguing—arguing—with the Headmaster was the height of foolishness. With Hermione, she had a bit more to back herself up with, but it was still the equivalent of a wolf attempting to intimidate a lion with raised hackles and bristled fur. There was no doubt that the wolf was fierce, but the lion was simply overwhelmingly more powerful. And had a much more impressive mane and mantle.
But the old lion conceded at last. "Very well. I place Sirius in your care, as your responsibility."
Hermione's entire expression immediately brightened. "Thank you, Headmaster."
The memory vanished, and Harry gazed at Dumbledore in disbelief.
"When was this?" he asked.
"Shortly after her counterpart's disappearance," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "I believe it was right after she introduced the idea of telling you about the Prophecy to the rest of the Order."
"And you just… let her?"
"She made a very good case."
Privately, Harry did not think it was the legitimacy of Hemione's case that had made him change his mind. All this memory had confirmed for him was that Hermione was willing to do things under the Headmaster's nose, and was utterly unrepentant when caught.
"And she was right," Dumbledore admitted. "Her gambit was risky, but I do believe it made the difference in the end."
Harry left that evening feeling unsettled and out of sorts. He had been leaning toward devoting himself to Hermione's plan, and then had wavered toward Dumbledore's with the introduction of the Hallows. Now he once again felt uprooted, without a sense of direction or self.
Which path am I supposed to take?
It was then he decided that he finally needed to have a talk with Sirius face to face.
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-Anubis Ankh