Chapter 17
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, 1st October 2011
Harry walked into the Gryffindor Common Room in the morning, bleary-eyed. He had been up most of the night working out Quidditch plays with Ron.
"Hermione? What are you doing up so early?"
"I'm just going over my Demonology homework," Hermione mumbled, and she scrawled on her parchment.
"It looks a little long," he pointed out.
"I like to be detailed, what's the issue?" Hermione frowned. Harry held his hands up in surrender. There was a short silence. "How was last night?" she asked.
Harry was still a little tired from last night's practice. He was very confident in the team he formed. Ron was growing more self-assured in his Quidditch skills, as Harry was glad to see. Ginny zoomed around the Pitch, a fantastic Chaser. Harry was sure she'd play professionally in the future. She loved it.
"It went great. Everyone's doing well. Ron's really coming into his own. Glad I picked him over McLaggen. He seemed very full of himself." Hermione must have thought that he missed the small smirk she gave, but he didn't.
"What's that look for?" Harry asked suspiciously.
"Nothing," Hermione said quickly, a little too quickly.
"You know, it looked like McLaggen was acting strange at the tryouts, and he was standing in front of where you were sitting."
Hermione blushed. "Oh alright, I did. I Confunded him," she admitted. "You should've heard the insults he was firing about Ron and Ginny before tryouts! And he has such a temper! Acting like a child. I mean, honestly…"
"I guess," Harry allowed. "Aren't you meant to be a Prefect?"
"Oh shush," Hermione snapped. "Just don't tell Ron." Harry laughed and nodded.
Soon Ron descended from the boy's dormitory, and they walked down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Hermione looked away quickly and Harry was trying to hide a smirk. Who knew Hermione could break the rules?
They ate breakfast and walked into the depths of the castle.
The Dungeons of Hogwarts were dark and dreary, lit by small lamps on the stone walls. Harry and Ron and Hermione walked down the hallway toward the Potions classroom. They walked inside and sat down, looking at Professor Slughorn, who was standing at the front of the room with several cauldrons in front of him.
"Hello everyone," He announced after everyone sat down. The noise hushed. "Today we are going to be looking at some potions that you have all read about before, but probably never made. Can anyone tell me what the first one is?"
Hermione's hand shot up. Professor Slughorn pointed to her.
"Yes, Ms Granger?"
"It's Veritaserum. It's a colourless, odourless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth."
"Very good!" Slughorn replied happily. "Veritaserum can be useful but is not very reliable. Can anyone tell me why?" There was silence and he continued. "The potion has a flaw. It makes the drinker say the truth, to the best of their ability, so their words may not be factual. Now, does anyone know the second one?" he asked, pointing to the second cauldron. The contents inside were mud-like brown colour. Harry grimaced, recognizing it.
Hermione raised her hand again and Slughorn pointed to her.
"Polyjuice Potion, sir," she told him.
"Excellent!" he smiled. "And the final is… yes?" Slughorn now looked amused, as Hermione's hand shot up again
"Amortentia! It's a love potion." The girls in the class looked up in interest at the mention of a good old-fashioned love potion.
"She's going to sprain her shoulder doing that," Ron muttered to Harry.
"Yes, perfectly right. I assume you recognized it because of its mother-of-pearl sheen?"
"Yes, and the steam is rising in spirals," Hermione confirmed. "It's supposed to smell different to each person, according to what attracts them." Harry heard Malfoy snigger but ignored him.
"Take twenty-five points for Gryffindor, Ms Granger, well done," Slughorn congratulated.
"Amortentia does not create love," Slughorn continued as he looked back to the cauldrons. "It causes an infatuation and is possibly the most dangerous potion in this room. Now, never mind that, on to today's assignment." He retreated behind his desk and spoke. "This potion is called the Felix Felicis," he smiled as Hermione let out a gasp. "I assume you know what this does Ms Granger?"
"It's liquid luck!"
"Yes, it is a funny little potion. Difficult to make and disastrous if brewed incorrectly. But when made right, you will find your endeavours will succeed, until the effects wear off of course."
"Why don't people drink it all the time, sir?" Ron asked.
"If taken too much, it causes giddiness and dangerous overconfidence," Slughorn replied.
"This is what I shall be offering as a prize today. One tiny vial of Felix Felicis."
There was an excited murmur in the class. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Malfoy sit up slightly straighter.
"I must advise that this potion is banned in organized events. The winner is to use it on a normal day only. The mission today is to replicate the Draught of Living Death. It is a complex potion, so I don't expect a perfect potion. But the person that gets the closest, wins the prize. Off you go!"
Everyone opened their books eagerly at once. Harry flipped through the tattered copy of Advanced Potion Making and as he noticed in his first Potions class, there were scrawled messages all over the pages. He found the section on the Draught of Living Death and began to work. He began to feel curious. His instincts were telling him to follow the handwritten instructions on the page, for some reason. He weighed his options: In six years he had never been successful in getting anything above an Exceeds Expectations from Professor Snape. Though Professor Slughorn seemed to like Harry well enough. But something in Malfoy's smug expression made him really want to win. So even though the competition was slim, he thought, why not?
The instructions were not much different, adding a clockwise stir, and crushing the bean instead of cutting it. To his surprise, his potion was turning a pale pink. None of the other's turned that colour, as far as he could tell. Hermione was sweating over her cauldron; her potion was still a deep purple. Ron's was almost black. He was muttering under his breath while watching Harry.
"How are you doing that?" she hissed. Harry shrugged.
"I crushed the bean instead of cutting it," he told her. Hermione's next words were cut off by Slughorn as he stood and clapped.
"Times up everyone. Stop stirring," Slughorn announced. He began to make the rounds, looking into everyone's cauldrons. When he peered into Harry's, he gave a delighted smile.
"Well done, Harry! A clear winner! You must have inherited your mother's talent," he gushed. "Fantastic at Potions, Lily was. Here, take your well-deserved bottle of Felix Felicis. Use it well." Slughorn beamed as he handed Harry the tiny vial. Harry took it from him and slid it into the pocket of his robes. The Slytherins were glaring daggers into his back. Hermione looked disappointed, and Ron looked bemused.
Professor Slughorn concluded the class, seeming very enthusiastic. He issued the homework and they left.
"How did you do that, mate?" Ron asked when they were in the Potions corridor. But Harry wasn't listening. He saw Snape walking up the corridor and subtly tapped Malfoy on the shoulder.
"Bathroom, I'll meet you in the Great Hall," he muttered. He walked away, leaving Hermione and Ron looking confused. Pulling his Invisibility Cloak from his bag and throwing it over himself, he followed Snape and Malfoy. They slipped into an unused classroom at the end of the corridor. Harry arrived, and they were already talking. Harry pressed his ear against the door, wishing he had one of the twins Extendable Ears.
"You cannot afford mistakes Draco-" Snape was saying before Malfoy interrupted hotly.
"Stop looking at me like that. I know what you're doing, and it won't work!" Draco snapped.
There was a silence as Snape seemed to be pondering Malfoy's words.
"Ah… It seems your Aunt Bellatrix has been teaching you Occlumency," he said. "What are you trying to conceal from your master?"
"Nothing! I just don't want you butting your nose in!" he snapped. Harry felt a jolt of confusion. He'd never heard Malfoy talk like this to his Head of House before.
"So, this is why you have been avoiding me? Do you fear my interference? Draco, if anyone had not come to my office after so many requests, I-"
"Give me detention then!"
"You know I don't wish to do that," Snape cut him off.
"Then stop doing it!" Draco snapped. Snape sighed. His voice dropped to almost a whisper. As he approached Draco. "I am trying to help you. I swore to your mother. I made the Unbreakable Vow."
"You'll have to break it then," Draco scowled. "I don't need or want your help. It's my job. He gave it to me."
"What is your plan?" Snape asked
"None of your business. I know what you're up to. You'll steal my glory!" Draco turned on his heel quickly and Harry had just enough time to get out of the way before he stomped out and down the hall.
What could this possibly mean? Harry wondered. A mission? An Unbreakable Vow? Malfoy was acting strange since they saw him in Borgin and Burkes. Malfoy had been arguing with the shopkeeper. Merlin knows why… But down that street, it couldn't be anything good. He was annoyed that he couldn't catch a word of what they were saying. He walked toward the Great Hall. He stopped in his tracks as an image popped into his mind, something he hadn't noticed. Malfoy showing something that Harry swore was on his left arm in the dingy shop in Knockturn Alley. Could Voldemort have possibly…? Harry broke into a sprint to the Great Hall.
"I need to talk to you," he said to Ron and Hermione. They rushed outside, curious and worried.
"Harry, what is it?" Hermione asked as they slipped into a classroom.
"I saw Snape talking to Malfoy," Harry told them. "He was offering him his help."
"His help? Why?" Ron asked.
"I don't know. He said he promised Malfoy's mother something about an Unbreakable Oath?"
"An Unbreakable Vow…" Ron looked shocked. "Are you sure that's what he said?"
"Yeah, I'm sure. What does it mean?"
"Well, you can't break an Unbreakable Vow."
"We got that Ronald," Hermione said impatiently, racking her brain. "What if you break it?"
"You die," said Ron simply. "Fred and George tried to make me do one. Dad found us and went mental. Fred reckons his left butt cheek still isn't the same."
"Well, moving on…" Harry said. "There's more. Snape said someone gave Malfoy a mission. He said he wouldn't tell Snape his plan. Do you remember when we saw him in Knockturn Alley?"
"Yeah, he was in Borgin and Burkes, right?" Ron asked, and Harry nodded.
"There's something I forgot…." Said Harry, pale.
"Are you okay mate?" Ron asked.
"Is your scar hurting again?" Hermione fretted.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," Harry waved them off. "I could have sworn I saw him showing the shopkeeper something. Malfoy is a Death Eater!"
"What?! Harry, no that's not possible. He's sixteen. You think You-Know-Who's recruiting teenagers?"
"It was something on his arm! He's been given the Dark Mark. I'm sure of it!"
"I don't know Harry," Hermione said.
"The conversation ended very quickly after I saw that. Borgin looked scared. Maybe Malfoy was threatening him." Ron and Hermione looked at one another. Harry scowled, annoyed. A student wandered in and squealed in surprise.
"Sorry!" She left the room quickly.
"Harry, I don't think it's impossible… Just very unlikely," Hermione spoke in a hushed whisper. "And it's no secret you don't like each other."
"I know I'm right! He's up to something!"
"Okay, Harry. Can we talk about this later? We'll be late for Demonology," Ron said. Harry sighed and nodded. They left the classroom, Harry feeling slightly annoyed.
The trio were among the last students to file in, Malfoy looked as if the conversation with Snape hadn't happened. Ron punched Harry in the shoulder to keep him from glaring at Malfoy.
They sat in their seats and Professor Sam and Dean walked in. They walked to the front of the room.
"Good morning, guys," Professor Sam greeted them warmly. Professor Dean was leaning against the teacher's desk. "Everyone did really well at the training session last week. I'll go ahead and collect last week's homework. Please have it ready."
As Professor Sam came around to collect their homework, Professor Dean picked up a piece of chalk and walked over to the blackboard. They all started as he wrote 'GHOUL', the bold white letters standing out against the blackboard.
"Now we're getting to the good stuff," Professor Dean announced. "Can anyone tell me what a Ghoul is?"
Ron raised his hand. "We have a ghoul living in our attic." The Professors' stopped short and gaped at him, making the boy feel a little self-conscious. "What? The worst thing he does is bang on the pipes at three in the bloody morning."
"What…?" Professor Dean looked shocked.
"I guess there are two types of Ghouls," Professor Sam muttered. "So, we need to go over the differences. Ron, what else can you tell us about your Ghoul?"
"He's thick and harmless," Ron shrugged. "They're very common."
"Well, I'm not sure if they're universally the same." Professor Dean pulled out a small leather-bound journal.
"This was our Dad's journal. I mentioned it in passing in our Wendigo class. This contains every piece of information on every monster he knew of. A lot of Hunters keep journals on what they find out about. We consult it from time to time." He started reading, "Ghouls are creatures that traditionally feed on the dead mostly by drinking their prey's blood. Some have been known to feed on living humans. They can only be killed by decapitation or the destruction of their heads. They can shapeshift, appearing human by taking the form of the last person they ate. Ghouls are unaffected by silver or holy water. Ghouls are also known to create complex tunnel systems underneath graveyards, allowing them to freely move from grave to grave and feast without raising too much suspicion from hunters."
A shudder ran through the group of students. "Blimey." Ron's eyes were wide. "Ours has never done that."
"Your textbook tells much of the same story." Professor Sam continued. "A Ghoul is an undead supernatural being originating from Arabian folklore. A Ghoul or ghūl, which translated from Arabic means "demon", is known to inhabit cemeteries or other types of burial grounds; in lore, they are known for preying on young children, drinking blood, stealing coins, and most famously consuming the flesh of the dead. It's in eating the dead they can then assume the identity/form of the deceased. In some lore, Ghouls are not dissimilar to zombies, being corpses re-animated by witches or demons that can be commanded. Like zombies, the typical method for dispatching a ghoul is to destroy their brains."
"Which means bashing their heads in," Professor Dean told them. Professor Sam sighed and looked at his brother.
"Professor?" A Gryffindor student raised his hand.
"Yes?" Dean asked.
"Is it possible for our world's Ghouls to become like that?" he asked.
"Okay, guys look. First of all, just call us Sam and Dean. It's okay. You have our permission if you want. Professor just gets confusing. Anyway, if they would hurt you, they would've done it already. Just be careful." He advised. The students nodded.
"I think it's time for some backstory," Sam spoke. "A few years ago, we found out we had a half-brother, his name was Adam. We went to meet him… His mother went missing. We discovered Adam wasn't really Adam… He was a Ghoul. They killed him and took his form, to get to us. Our Dad kept him out of the hunting life. Unfortunately, that didn't save him in the end. We found out the hard way what 'Adam' and his mom 'Kate' really were," Sam explained. The students lined up and entered the pensive.
The students appeared in a small, dingy room. They saw Sam strapped to a table. There was a cut in his torso, and the male Ghoul stuck into the wound. Sam groaned in pain.
"Ew…" A Slytherin boy wrinkled his nose.
"Thanks to your daddy, my brother and I grew up on our own. At least we had each other," 'Kate' smiled bitterly. 'Adam' licked Sam's blood off his finger. "Like you and your brother. Inseparable."
"Actually," 'Kate' mused. "It was very hard to get you on your own."
"Like you said, Sam, the only thing you can count on is family," 'Adam' grinned. 'Kate' drank some more of Sam's blood and licked her fingers.
"And for twenty years, we lived like rats," 'Kate' hissed.
"Graveyard after graveyard, all that stinking flesh," 'Adam' continued.
"Then we thought, 'hey, why not move up to fresher game?'"
"And we knew just where to start," 'Adam' smiled evilly. He dug the tip of the knife into the cut in Sam's arm. Sam hissed in pain.
The students winced at the gory scene.
"Revenge—it's never over, is it, Sam?" 'Adam' continued.
"First, it was John's cop friend, and then his slut, and then his son," 'Kate' smirked, pointing her knife at Sam and then at 'Adam'. "Then I called John, but the son of a bitch was already dead."
"So, I guess you and Dean will have to do instead. Dean won't interrupt us this time. We're gonna feed on you nice and slow—like we did with Adam," 'Adam' grinned as he went to make another cut.
"Oh, and, by the way, he was your brother," 'Kate' informed Sam with a sinister smile. Sam struggled against the bonds. "You should know that."
"He was still alive when we took our first bites." 'Adam' looked positively giddy.
"And he was a screamer," 'Kate' whispered in Sam's ear.
"I can't watch this." One of the students covered their eyes and tried not to vomit.
'Kate' and 'Adam' each opened deep gashes on one of Sam's arms. They held bowls underneath the wounds, ready to catch the blood as it poured down Sam's arms in a torrent.
"Sam, the more you struggle, the faster you're gonna bleed out," 'Adam' told him. "So, you might as well lie back and relax."
Suddenly the door banged open, and Dean strode in, aiming his shotgun. He fired and shot 'Adam' in the shoulder. 'Adam' growled.
"Hey!" Dean shouted.
"Dean, they're ghouls!" Sam explained. Immediately Dean fired, aiming for Kate's head and pulled the trigger. Her body fell to the ground, dead.
"Which means head-shot," Dean stated. Adam rushed Dean, glasses in the cabinet behind Dean smashing as he was pushed against them.
Some of the students moved out of the way.
Dean grabbed 'Adam' and slammed him down, smacking a metal bar into his head repeatedly, until he stopped moving. He got to his feet and immediately went to his brother. Sam groaned.
"Dean!" he gasped. Dean cut through the binding and put some towels on the wounds.
"Come on. Come on. Come on. Hang on. All right, here we go. Here we go. Hang on, buddy. All right," he muttered the whole time as he worked.
"Thank you," Sam gasped.
"That's what family's for, right? Keep pressure on that," Dean told him.
The students and the Winchesters exited the Pensieve. Some of the students looked green.
"Sorry guys, some of that was probably a little intense," Sam told them.
"Guess we should have warned you." Dean ran his fingers through his hair. "Sorry," he smiled sheepishly.
Ron looked positively white. "I thought Spiders were bad."
"It doesn't change the fact it was necessary to show you," Sam told them.
"Yeah, what we do isn't a cakewalk," Dean replied. "There are worse things out there, so be prepared for worse creatures as the year goes on."
The students were quiet as Sam wrote down the homework assignment.
"Well, I think it's safe to say we traumatized them," Dean grinned.