Harry Potter and the Path of Knowledge
Part 1: Exposition
"He just collapsed!" Hermione wailed. "We were watching you play, Harry, and
you caught the Snitch, and then he just... he... just...." She buried her
head in her hands and began to sob.
Harry laid an awkward hand on her shoulder and stared at Ron, lying still and
quiet in the bed, barely even breathing. There were no hex marks, Madam
Pomfrey had checked for poison, there was no reason Ron should have been
lying there like that. But he was. And he wasn't getting any better.
In fact, Ron Weasley was getting worse. He was dying. Madam Pomfrey had
left to try and find the twins and Ginny, Professor Dumbledore had left to
send an owl to Ron's parents. "There's nothing we can do but be there in
case he wakes up," he'd said kindly to both Harry and Hermione.
Hermione hadn't stopped crying. Harry wanted to scream. "There's got to be
a way," he said suddenly. "It wasn't Avada Kedav... the death charm, else
he'd be dead already, right? So there's a chance."
"You heard Professor Dumbledore," Hermione snuffled miserably. "He doesn't
even know what's wrong with Ron. He can't even do anything, and Madame
Pomfrey can't do anything, what makes you think you can?"
"Ron's my friend," Harry said stubbornly. "I have to at least try. He'd try
to save me."
Hermione gave no sign that she'd heard anything he said and started crying
again. She and Ron hadn't been going out as long as all that, but she had completely disintegrated.
Harry sighed and left the room. Hermione wasn't being much of a help; it was obvious she wasn't going to pull herself out of her shocky grief-response in time to be any help. She
usually dashed straight off to the library when something went wrong...
"But," he said to a nearby portrait of an elderly wizard, who nearly dropped
his tea in surprise at being addressed, "since no one knows what's wrong, the
library won't be any help. I can't read the entire library in time."
"Shouldn't think so," the portrait agreed, a bit bewildered but willing to
play along.
Harry paced back and forth, then snapped his head around to stare at the
portrait. "That's it! Thanks!"
He dashed off, leaving a confused portrait to search through its memory for
precisely what it had said that was so brilliant.
*****
About ten minutes later, Harry was wandering around in the dusty northern
corridor. It was a beautiful plan. Find the Tomb of Days again and try to
get it to let him see the near past instead of the history of the founding of
Hogwarts. Then he could see what happened to Ron, and *then* he could go to
the library and-
"What are you looking for?" asked a female voice from off to his left.
Harry glanced up to see the silvery form of a ghost girl. "You're the...
Grey Lady, aren't you?"
"Yes. What are you looking for?" She looked around. "There's a nice
portrait here, but I don't see anything else... shouldn't you be with your
friend?"
"That's why I'm here." Harry explained his plan to the ghost, including the
story of how he'd found the Tomb of Days in the first place. Leaving out the
parts where he hadn't had a clue what was going on, of course.
She frowned. "That won't work... it sounds like the Tomb is bound into just
that one story to me." She shifted so she was sitting, crosslegged and upside-down, in midair. Also, you can't get down there anymore. I doubt Helga Hufflepuff wants anyone messing with time now that she's got it how she wants it."
"So what do I do then?"
"Stop pouting, for one. You'll ruin your looks. Go to the library, for
another." The Grey Lady vanished. "We'll talk more when you get there! I have to go get someone!"
"Why do I get the feeling I'm being led around by the nose?" Harry asked no
one in particular as he left in the direction of the library.
From the immense portrait of the Hogwarts founders, Salazar Slytherin fixed
one of his fellow founders with a glare. "What are you up to, Rowena?"
*****
The library was quiet, as always. Quiet, filled with books, and mostly
solitary. Madam Pince, the vulture-like librarian, was ensconced at her
desk, busy enough that she barely looked up long enough to fix Harry with a
warning glare.
So I'm here at the library, he thought. On orders from a ghost. But if the
ghost could help him save Ron....
It was ridiculous, but he walked around anyway, looking over all the titles
embossed in gold and silver on the spines of the books, hoping to see
something useful. Which was why he wasn't expecting to see Draco Malfoy
sitting at a table, alone, reading a book. He couldn't resist. "Studying,
Malfoy?" he asked as nastily as he could. "Where's your brute squad?"
The reaction was absolutely priceless. Malfoy froze, dropped the book on the
heavy oak table (earning himself a sharp "Hush!" from the direction of Madam
Pince) and jerked around to face Harry, pale features flushed most
satisfactorily.
Once he'd gotten over his shock, he sneered. "What do you care, Potter? I'm
surprised you're not mooning over the Weasel's hospital bed like that Granger
creature."
Harry tensed. "If you don't want a black eye to go with your robes, you'll
leave off that subject," he said, forcing himself not to yell.
Malfoy sniffed and picked up his book again. "Touchy, aren't we?" he asked,
studiously avoiding Harry's resulting glare.
On its own, Harry's hand curled into a fist. "Wouldn't you be?" he demanded
roughly. "If it was your-"
"Ah, both of you. Wonderful." The Grey Lady appeared, sitting demurely on a
nearby table. She seemed like quite a young woman, and pretty even as a
ghost. "Follow me, you two, this way!"
Malfoy looked over the top of his book. "A date with a ghost, Potter... you
*must* be desperate."
"She was talking to both of us," Harry said, almost to himself. She went off to get *Malfoy* before meeting him in the library?
"I am conveniently ignoring that part. Run along, Potter."
Harry frowned. The Grey Lady had told him to come to the library, then she'd
shown up, seemed pleased to see both of them there, and flitted off again.
"I'm not taking any chances," he announced, forcing out the words. Remember
Ron, it was for Ron.... "You're coming too, Malfoy."
"I am not. I happen to be studying."
"She's going to tell me how to save Ron's life. I think. And she told us
both to follow her."
"How nice." Malfoy shut the book and replaced it on the shelf, then smiled
coldly. "And what, precisely, makes you think I care whether Weasley lives
or dies?"
Harry scowled. He wasn't about to let Malfoy off the hook. "You may not. I
think you do, but I'm not going to argue with you about it. You're going to
come with me because if you don't...."
Malfoy snickered. "If I don't...?"
"I'll tell Dumbledore you killed Ron."
Malfoy blinked a few times. "Even though I didn't?" he asked slowly.
"If I say you did..." Harry said slowly, "people will believe me over you if I say grass is
purple. And it's not like you and Ron were... *are* friends or anything." Harry
crossed his arms, praying that Malfoy wouldn't see through his bluff.
Icy silver-grey eyes regarded him silently for a moment, then the other boy
lowered his gaze and shrugged. Was he hiding a *smile*? "Well, when you put it *that* way," he
murmured. "Lead on."
Harry nodded once, sharply, praying that the sudden relief wasn't showing on
his face. He started moving, following the path the Grey Lady had taken
among the stacks, confident that the Slytherin boy was following him.
They came to a tiny alcove, where the ghost hovered, tapping her foot on the ceiling. "Well, *finally*," she said. "I was beginning to think you weren't coming." She lifted a nearly-transparent hand to point at a door in the corner. "In there."
"After you," Malfoy said, waving at the door. "If there's a trap... and you
die... I'll be able to go back to studying."
"Coward," Harry accused, opening the door. Even though he was still fairly
small for his age (though thanks to a growth spurt he was at least a little
bigger than Malfoy), he had to duck to enter.
It was a small, bare room lit only by candles. A mirror stood against the
far wall as the only decoration. The Grey Lady glided in, just before Malfoy
walked in. "Charming," he remarked. "I'm sure *this* will really help you
in your little quest, Potter. You can decorate Weasley's bedside."
The Grey Lady hovered next to the mirror. "Well. Welcome, both of you, to the Path of Knowledge. The start of it, anyway."
"The what?" Harry asked.
"The Path of Knowledge. Kindly don't interrupt, please. You fulfill all the requirements for admittance to the Path. You have the power, and you've been inducted into the secrets of another founder. On behalf of Lady Rowena Ravenclaw, welcome." She folded her hands in front of her and bowed oddly formally. Straighening, she gave the two boys a clear, serious gaze; for the first time Harry could really believe that the fluttery ghost was Raveclaw's spectral representative. "Here are the rules. You get to walk the Path once. That's all, just once. Once you start walking the Path, you cannot stop until you have reached the end, so if you are unsure at all, turn back now."
Malfoy immediately turned to leave, only to be stopped by Harry's firm grip on the collar of his robes. "Wonderful. Mind telling us why we should care about this Path of yours?" Malfoy drawled instead, sounding bored.
She shook her head, ignoring his tone. "At the end of the Path lies whatever
knowledge you need. Since this is self-enlightenment of sorts, and since
everyone has different needs, the end of the Path must be faced alone."
Harry grinned. He'd be able to find out how to save Ron. If there was ever anything he had truly needed to know, it was that. "Thank you," he tolde the ghost gratefully.
She waved a hand. "Don't mention it. Good luck to you both." With that,
she vanished. "Have lots of fun!"
"Fun. How charming. We're supposed to follow a path that isn't here." Malfoy
sighed. "Tell me again why I'm here?"
"Oh, shut up," Harry snapped, feeling at the walls. "Help me look. There's
probably a secret passage around here somewhere." He twitched a nearby
candlestick.
"Thrilling." Malfoy's voice dripped sarcasm. He walked around the small
room and leaned against the mirror, where he had a good view of Harry's
activity. "Wake me when we can go."
The mirror... shivered, almost, and Malfoy's shoulder sank into it before he
jerked back with a strangled yelp.
Harry forced back laughter (the sight of Malfoy staring poison death and destruction at a mirror was something he'd need to describe to Ron once this was over). "Looks like you found the entrance," he said neutrally.
"You think?"
"This time you go first. If there's a trap... and you die... I don't have to
put up with you anymore." Harry grinned evenly.
Malfoy scowled and stalked into the mirror, somehow managing to communicate both sulkiness and rage without saying a word. Harry waited a moment, to be sure an arm or leg wasn't going to be thrown out. When it wasn't, he followed, walking into the liquid surface.
No turning back now, he thought. I hope this works.
Part 1: Exposition
"He just collapsed!" Hermione wailed. "We were watching you play, Harry, and
you caught the Snitch, and then he just... he... just...." She buried her
head in her hands and began to sob.
Harry laid an awkward hand on her shoulder and stared at Ron, lying still and
quiet in the bed, barely even breathing. There were no hex marks, Madam
Pomfrey had checked for poison, there was no reason Ron should have been
lying there like that. But he was. And he wasn't getting any better.
In fact, Ron Weasley was getting worse. He was dying. Madam Pomfrey had
left to try and find the twins and Ginny, Professor Dumbledore had left to
send an owl to Ron's parents. "There's nothing we can do but be there in
case he wakes up," he'd said kindly to both Harry and Hermione.
Hermione hadn't stopped crying. Harry wanted to scream. "There's got to be
a way," he said suddenly. "It wasn't Avada Kedav... the death charm, else
he'd be dead already, right? So there's a chance."
"You heard Professor Dumbledore," Hermione snuffled miserably. "He doesn't
even know what's wrong with Ron. He can't even do anything, and Madame
Pomfrey can't do anything, what makes you think you can?"
"Ron's my friend," Harry said stubbornly. "I have to at least try. He'd try
to save me."
Hermione gave no sign that she'd heard anything he said and started crying
again. She and Ron hadn't been going out as long as all that, but she had completely disintegrated.
Harry sighed and left the room. Hermione wasn't being much of a help; it was obvious she wasn't going to pull herself out of her shocky grief-response in time to be any help. She
usually dashed straight off to the library when something went wrong...
"But," he said to a nearby portrait of an elderly wizard, who nearly dropped
his tea in surprise at being addressed, "since no one knows what's wrong, the
library won't be any help. I can't read the entire library in time."
"Shouldn't think so," the portrait agreed, a bit bewildered but willing to
play along.
Harry paced back and forth, then snapped his head around to stare at the
portrait. "That's it! Thanks!"
He dashed off, leaving a confused portrait to search through its memory for
precisely what it had said that was so brilliant.
*****
About ten minutes later, Harry was wandering around in the dusty northern
corridor. It was a beautiful plan. Find the Tomb of Days again and try to
get it to let him see the near past instead of the history of the founding of
Hogwarts. Then he could see what happened to Ron, and *then* he could go to
the library and-
"What are you looking for?" asked a female voice from off to his left.
Harry glanced up to see the silvery form of a ghost girl. "You're the...
Grey Lady, aren't you?"
"Yes. What are you looking for?" She looked around. "There's a nice
portrait here, but I don't see anything else... shouldn't you be with your
friend?"
"That's why I'm here." Harry explained his plan to the ghost, including the
story of how he'd found the Tomb of Days in the first place. Leaving out the
parts where he hadn't had a clue what was going on, of course.
She frowned. "That won't work... it sounds like the Tomb is bound into just
that one story to me." She shifted so she was sitting, crosslegged and upside-down, in midair. Also, you can't get down there anymore. I doubt Helga Hufflepuff wants anyone messing with time now that she's got it how she wants it."
"So what do I do then?"
"Stop pouting, for one. You'll ruin your looks. Go to the library, for
another." The Grey Lady vanished. "We'll talk more when you get there! I have to go get someone!"
"Why do I get the feeling I'm being led around by the nose?" Harry asked no
one in particular as he left in the direction of the library.
From the immense portrait of the Hogwarts founders, Salazar Slytherin fixed
one of his fellow founders with a glare. "What are you up to, Rowena?"
*****
The library was quiet, as always. Quiet, filled with books, and mostly
solitary. Madam Pince, the vulture-like librarian, was ensconced at her
desk, busy enough that she barely looked up long enough to fix Harry with a
warning glare.
So I'm here at the library, he thought. On orders from a ghost. But if the
ghost could help him save Ron....
It was ridiculous, but he walked around anyway, looking over all the titles
embossed in gold and silver on the spines of the books, hoping to see
something useful. Which was why he wasn't expecting to see Draco Malfoy
sitting at a table, alone, reading a book. He couldn't resist. "Studying,
Malfoy?" he asked as nastily as he could. "Where's your brute squad?"
The reaction was absolutely priceless. Malfoy froze, dropped the book on the
heavy oak table (earning himself a sharp "Hush!" from the direction of Madam
Pince) and jerked around to face Harry, pale features flushed most
satisfactorily.
Once he'd gotten over his shock, he sneered. "What do you care, Potter? I'm
surprised you're not mooning over the Weasel's hospital bed like that Granger
creature."
Harry tensed. "If you don't want a black eye to go with your robes, you'll
leave off that subject," he said, forcing himself not to yell.
Malfoy sniffed and picked up his book again. "Touchy, aren't we?" he asked,
studiously avoiding Harry's resulting glare.
On its own, Harry's hand curled into a fist. "Wouldn't you be?" he demanded
roughly. "If it was your-"
"Ah, both of you. Wonderful." The Grey Lady appeared, sitting demurely on a
nearby table. She seemed like quite a young woman, and pretty even as a
ghost. "Follow me, you two, this way!"
Malfoy looked over the top of his book. "A date with a ghost, Potter... you
*must* be desperate."
"She was talking to both of us," Harry said, almost to himself. She went off to get *Malfoy* before meeting him in the library?
"I am conveniently ignoring that part. Run along, Potter."
Harry frowned. The Grey Lady had told him to come to the library, then she'd
shown up, seemed pleased to see both of them there, and flitted off again.
"I'm not taking any chances," he announced, forcing out the words. Remember
Ron, it was for Ron.... "You're coming too, Malfoy."
"I am not. I happen to be studying."
"She's going to tell me how to save Ron's life. I think. And she told us
both to follow her."
"How nice." Malfoy shut the book and replaced it on the shelf, then smiled
coldly. "And what, precisely, makes you think I care whether Weasley lives
or dies?"
Harry scowled. He wasn't about to let Malfoy off the hook. "You may not. I
think you do, but I'm not going to argue with you about it. You're going to
come with me because if you don't...."
Malfoy snickered. "If I don't...?"
"I'll tell Dumbledore you killed Ron."
Malfoy blinked a few times. "Even though I didn't?" he asked slowly.
"If I say you did..." Harry said slowly, "people will believe me over you if I say grass is
purple. And it's not like you and Ron were... *are* friends or anything." Harry
crossed his arms, praying that Malfoy wouldn't see through his bluff.
Icy silver-grey eyes regarded him silently for a moment, then the other boy
lowered his gaze and shrugged. Was he hiding a *smile*? "Well, when you put it *that* way," he
murmured. "Lead on."
Harry nodded once, sharply, praying that the sudden relief wasn't showing on
his face. He started moving, following the path the Grey Lady had taken
among the stacks, confident that the Slytherin boy was following him.
They came to a tiny alcove, where the ghost hovered, tapping her foot on the ceiling. "Well, *finally*," she said. "I was beginning to think you weren't coming." She lifted a nearly-transparent hand to point at a door in the corner. "In there."
"After you," Malfoy said, waving at the door. "If there's a trap... and you
die... I'll be able to go back to studying."
"Coward," Harry accused, opening the door. Even though he was still fairly
small for his age (though thanks to a growth spurt he was at least a little
bigger than Malfoy), he had to duck to enter.
It was a small, bare room lit only by candles. A mirror stood against the
far wall as the only decoration. The Grey Lady glided in, just before Malfoy
walked in. "Charming," he remarked. "I'm sure *this* will really help you
in your little quest, Potter. You can decorate Weasley's bedside."
The Grey Lady hovered next to the mirror. "Well. Welcome, both of you, to the Path of Knowledge. The start of it, anyway."
"The what?" Harry asked.
"The Path of Knowledge. Kindly don't interrupt, please. You fulfill all the requirements for admittance to the Path. You have the power, and you've been inducted into the secrets of another founder. On behalf of Lady Rowena Ravenclaw, welcome." She folded her hands in front of her and bowed oddly formally. Straighening, she gave the two boys a clear, serious gaze; for the first time Harry could really believe that the fluttery ghost was Raveclaw's spectral representative. "Here are the rules. You get to walk the Path once. That's all, just once. Once you start walking the Path, you cannot stop until you have reached the end, so if you are unsure at all, turn back now."
Malfoy immediately turned to leave, only to be stopped by Harry's firm grip on the collar of his robes. "Wonderful. Mind telling us why we should care about this Path of yours?" Malfoy drawled instead, sounding bored.
She shook her head, ignoring his tone. "At the end of the Path lies whatever
knowledge you need. Since this is self-enlightenment of sorts, and since
everyone has different needs, the end of the Path must be faced alone."
Harry grinned. He'd be able to find out how to save Ron. If there was ever anything he had truly needed to know, it was that. "Thank you," he tolde the ghost gratefully.
She waved a hand. "Don't mention it. Good luck to you both." With that,
she vanished. "Have lots of fun!"
"Fun. How charming. We're supposed to follow a path that isn't here." Malfoy
sighed. "Tell me again why I'm here?"
"Oh, shut up," Harry snapped, feeling at the walls. "Help me look. There's
probably a secret passage around here somewhere." He twitched a nearby
candlestick.
"Thrilling." Malfoy's voice dripped sarcasm. He walked around the small
room and leaned against the mirror, where he had a good view of Harry's
activity. "Wake me when we can go."
The mirror... shivered, almost, and Malfoy's shoulder sank into it before he
jerked back with a strangled yelp.
Harry forced back laughter (the sight of Malfoy staring poison death and destruction at a mirror was something he'd need to describe to Ron once this was over). "Looks like you found the entrance," he said neutrally.
"You think?"
"This time you go first. If there's a trap... and you die... I don't have to
put up with you anymore." Harry grinned evenly.
Malfoy scowled and stalked into the mirror, somehow managing to communicate both sulkiness and rage without saying a word. Harry waited a moment, to be sure an arm or leg wasn't going to be thrown out. When it wasn't, he followed, walking into the liquid surface.
No turning back now, he thought. I hope this works.