"Wormtail?"
"No, my Lord. It's me. Lucius."
The tall, thin man stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. He pulled off his hood to reveal an angular face and blond hair. He paused
for a moment, then made his way across the room toward the dark-haired
man. Lucius bowed.
"You have had a visitor?"
"Yes, my Lord." Lucius' voice was cold and confident, although he
avoided looking the other man in the face. "Just as you predicted."
A high-pitched laugh began in the back of the dark-haired man's throat. "He wanted to see me?"
"Yes."
The dark-haired man turned away from Lucius and faced the fireplace. Outside, the wind was roaring. A storm was building.
"What did you tell him?"
"Just what you directed me to say. I told him what you required."
"Excellent, Lucius. He will come again?"
"Yes. He consented to gather the items you requested. He will return
in a few days."
"Good." The dark-haired man said this in low voice, almost a hiss. "Thank you, Lucius."
But Lucius did not leave the room. He stood in the same spot and stared
at the floor for a moment. Just as he was about to say something, the
dark-haired man spoke.
"You want to know my plans."
Lucius didn't answer. He simply stared at the floor. The dark-haired
man turned around and fixed his catlike gaze upon Lucius, who continued to
look downward.
"Yes, of course you do. They all want to know."
"I'm getting owls every day, my Lord. They're--"
"They're restless. Yes, I know." He considered this for a moment. "Lucius, do you know what my mistake was?"
Lucius appeared confused. "My Lord?"
"My mistake." He enunciated this clearly, though he knew that Lucius
had understood him. "I have been going about things in the wrong way. I
see that now."
Lucius stared fixedly at the floor. He did not speak.
"Yes, during my exile I had a great deal of time to reconsider my
approach. My aims were many, Lucius. I was unfocused. I should have
concentrated on one thing at a time. One goal. I have that focus now." The man narrowed his catlike eyes and surveyed Lucius. "Tell them that
they must wait. I must wait, so they will, too. Once I have attained my
goal, no one will be able to stop us. Not the Ministry, not that fool
Dumbledore, not even--" his voice quieted to a whisper "--Harry Potter. Then they shall wreak all the mayhem they like, unchecked. But until
then--" he turned toward the window, outside which the rain was
beginning to fall "--we must wait."
Lucius bowed obsequiously, but his puzzlement was evident.
"Your goal, my Lord?"
The man laughed at Lucius' perseverance, then sighed. "Come now, you
know what that is. I will be immortal. Truly immortal, this time--not
vulnerable like before." He turned to face Lucius again. "You want to
know how. You will find out soon." The man drew his wand and inspected
it idly. Lucius started. "Now," the man pocketed his wand once again,
"leave. It is late."
Lucius pulled his hood up over his head, turned, and opened the door. Heavy sheets of rain were falling now. Without looking back, he walked
out into the storm. The wind blew the door shut behind him.
In his bed, Harry trembled. He briefly opened his eyes, but exhaustion
soon overtook him again. He closed his eyes and drifted off.
***
On the first day of classes, Harry and Ron met Hermione in the Common
Room and caught her up on the events of the previous night and Sirius'
presence at Hogwarts. The three of them then went to the Great Hall and
sat down to breakfast together at the Gryffindor table. Harry was
surprised to see that a bright sun shone down from the bewitched ceiling
of the Great Hall.
"I thought it was raining," he mumbled to himself.
"What's 'at?" Ron said through a mouthful of blueberry muffin.
"Oh, nothing, just ... Didn't it rain last night? I thought I remembered
hearing thunder ..."
Hermione and Ron looked across Harry at each other. "You must have
been dreaming," Hermione told him matter-of-factly as she began to
butter her toast.
Harry frowned. "Yeah, I suppose so." Hermione was right; it was a
dream. He remembered now. He had dreamt of a storm, but all he could
recall were a heavy rain, a man with a hood ... and red eyes with slits, like
a cat's.
Harry gasped.
He had had this dream twice before, over the summer. The first time
was the night after he had arrived back at the Dursleys'. The second had
been a couple of weeks later. But he could never remember exactly what
was said by the two men in the dream, or even who the other man--the one
in the hood--was. He concentrated hard.
"Harry, what's wrong?" asked Ron, looking alarmed. Harry hadn't
noticed the other two staring at him.
"Nothing," he lied. If he couldn't remember anything of use, it would be
better not to mention the dream. It would only scare Ron and Hermione. Harry thought about telling Dumbledore about the dream, but it seemed
unimportant, especially as Harry couldn't even recall what had happened in
it. It was probably just a nightmare. After all, he had just dueled with,
and nearly been killed by, Voldemort the previous term.
Hermione and Ron didn't look convinced, but fortunately for Harry the
mail owls chose precisely that moment to fly in through the windows. A
course schedule was dropped onto the plate of every student sitting in the
Great Hall. Hermione began to read from hers.
"Double Care of Magical Creatures with Hufflepuff this morning, then
Defense Against the Dark Arts after lunch. Hmmm," she paused
thoughtfully. "I wonder what Professor Green has planned this term? We
covered curse- and hex-deflection pretty thoroughly last year," she
finished apprehensively, as though she hoped what she was saying was
true, but feared that she might be mistaken. Clearly she didn't look
forward to being put under the Imperius Curse again.
A thought struck Ron. "Hey, you don't think she can teach us to read
people's feelings, do you?"
Hermione considered this. "I doubt it. Anyway, even if she could, I'm
sure it would take years to master." She took a bite of toast, then spoke,
struck by a sudden impulse. "Hey, I bet if we finish early enough, we could
talk to Hagrid for a bit before class!"
They rushed through breakfast and finished eating before the rest of
the students. As soon as they were done, they got up from the table and
walked out the huge doors to the entrance hall. They had only taken a few
steps toward the castle's great oak front doors when they heard loud
noises coming toward them from upstairs.
Peeves rounded a corner and appeared at the top of the flight of stairs
that led up to the second floor. He was cackling loudly and throwing books
from a dwindling pile that he carried under one arm. He seemed delighted
at the prospect of tossing the books from the landing onto the floor of the
entrance hall below, and promptly began doing so.
"Peeves!" Professor Green rounded the corner behind him, out of
breath. "Stop! Peeves, don't!"
Peeves just cackled even more madly and threw the last book into the
entrance hall, which was now littered with torn pages and volumes lying
at odd angles. Students drawn by the noise had begun to peek out of the
Great Hall in an attempt to find out what was going on. Snape glided past
them and looked up at the landing.
"What on earth is going on here?" he asked icily.
But Peeves had been distracted by something. He had been depleting
the pile under his arm by pulling books from the bottom of it, and now that
he had run out of books, he noticed an item that had obviously been sitting
on top of the pile he had grabbed from Professor Green's office. It was
difficult for Harry to see, but it looked like a very small, brownish box.
Professor Green pulled out her wand. Her eyes grew wide in fear.
"Peeves! Give it back, now. Slowly." She spoke in a forced calm.
Peeves looked at her. "Professor wants it back, does she? Hmmm." He
appeared to consider this. "She shall have it then. Peevsie shall not keep
it from her, no he shan't." He moved to hand the box back to Professor
Green, and she stretched out her wand hand to take it. Then, at the very
last second, he appeared to change his mind. He hurled the box toward the
marble floor of the entrance hall with all his might.
Snape lunged to catch the box, but he was a split second too slow. The
box hit the floor with a loud bang--and nothing was left of it but
splinters.
Professor Green looked as though Peeves had grabbed her heart out of
her chest and hurled it down to the floor instead. She screamed and flew
down the stairs to kneel before the spot where the little box lay in ruins. She touched the broken pieces with her fingers, as though she couldn't
bring her mind to grasp the fact that the thing was destroyed.
Snape stood nearby, looking stricken. His expression quickly turned to
one of barely controlled rage. "PEEVES!" he shouted. "The Baron will hear
about this, you can be sure of that!"
Peeves, genuinely startled for once, flew off down the corridor the way
he'd come. Snape ran up the stairs after him. But Professor Green was
oblivious to these events. She continued touching the broken pieces of the
little box with her fingertips, her eyes wide in disbelief.
Hermione rushed over and kneeled down next to her. "Oh, was it very
valuable?" she asked softly.
Professor Green looked up at her, her eyes still wide, her mouth open. She looked lost for words. "Yes," she finally managed to say.
"Well, I'm sure there's some sort of restorative charm that can mend
it. I'll get Professor Flitwick, maybe he knows ..." Hermione's voice
trailed off as Professor Green began to shake her head.
"No," she whispered, "it's useless once it's broken." She closed her
eyes and thought about this for a moment. Then she opened them again and
said, "but I would like to collect the pieces. Would you help me,
Hermione?"
"Of course," Hermione responded quickly, and shot Harry and Ron a
commanding look. By now most of the students had returned to their
breakfast. Harry and Ron scrambled over to kneel next to Hermione and
Professor Green. As Harry began to pick up the pieces, he noticed that
they looked and felt more like ivory than like wood, and that some of the
pieces were large enough that bits of the original carving were still
visible. On one shard he could just make out the leg of an animal--perhaps
a horse or cow--and on another he could see the head of a person. Near the
middle of the heap of shards, he found a single long, dark hair.
They picked up every piece they could find, even the really tiny
fragments, and handed them to Professor Green. She still looked a bit
pale. "Thank you," she said slowly, looking down at the pieces in her
hands. "It was ... It was the last thing he ever gave me, you know. Before
he died."
With that she swept back up the stairs, leaving her torn books on the
entrance hall floor.
"That was really horrible!" Hermione exclaimed. It was warm and
sunny outside, and they had just climbed the steps to Hagrid's front porch. "Someone should really do something about that poltergeist."
"I reckon someone will, now," Ron answered. "Did you see Snape? I
thought he would explode."
That would have been worth seeing, Harry thought to himself.
Ron knocked on Hagrid's front door. "What was that thing,
anyway? Some kind of jewelry box?"
Hermione shook her head. "No, didn't you hear what she said? 'It's
useless once it's broken.' It must do something. I expect it was some sort
of magical object."
Hagrid opened the door wide. "Well, there yeh are!" he exclaimed. He
hugged each of them in turn, nearly squashing them. "I was hopin' ter say
hello ter yeh last night."
"Er, Professor Green needed to speak to us," Harry explained. By now
the other students had begun arriving, and Hagrid didn't seem to expect
any further explanation.
"Ah well, yer here now, aren't ya?" Hagrid smiled. "I've got a surprise
for yeh all back in the pumpkin patch. Let's have a look, shall we?"
The students let Hagrid lead the way around his hut to the pumpkin
patch behind it. More correctly, he led the way to the plot of land that had
formerly been his pumpkin patch; it was now covered in slime, and no
plants grew anywhere within it.
Situated at the far corner of the patch was a gigantic snail, chartreuse
in color.
"Tha's a Streeler," Hagrid announced. "Not too excitin', I know, but
he's pretty, ain't he? Changes color on the hour." He beamed at the six
foot-tall snail. "Now, they leave a venomous trail, so be sure not to step
in the slime. Come around the outside of the fence to get a better look."
They spent the class period taking notes on Streelers and observing the one sitting before them. They were fortunate enough to see it change color twice: first to a dark red, and then to a vivid purple. Two hours later, relieved to have met a pet of Hagrid's that didn't seem inclined to injure them, the class walked back up to the Great Hall and lunch.
After lunch, the Gryffindors filed upstairs to the Defense Against the
Dark Arts classroom, wondering whether Professor Green had recovered
from her ordeal earlier that day. They found her sitting behind her desk,
wearing her usual sad smile. Harry noticed that she was a bit red around
the eyes.
"Thank you," she whispered to Harry, Ron, and Hermione as they took
their seats. They smiled back in acknowledgment.
Once Professor Green had called the roll, she stood in front of her desk
and surveyed the class. "Gryffindor fifth-years," she began as she smiled
down at them. "I know that Professor Dumbledore has impressed upon all
of you the gravity of the situation facing us. He has it on very good
authority," she shot Harry a glance as she said this, "that the Dark Lord
has returned to power. And although we have not seen nor heard from him
yet, Professor Dumbledore believes that he could surface at any time, in
any place." The students shifted nervously in their seats. They didn't
seem entirely comfortable with the prospect of facing Voldemort at any
moment.
"I know it's difficult to hear, but I'm afraid it's the truth. I know you
lost a fellow student last year. Cedric Diggory." Her voice lowered and
became quieter. "I am told that he was a good young man who died simply
because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. That is the sort of
unpredictable and merciless threat that I've been hired to protect you
against." Her eyes narrowed. "As you can well imagine, I take this
responsibility very seriously. I have a lot to teach you this year. I can
promise you that I will work you harder than any teacher ever has, and ask
more of you than you think I have a right to. But remember," her eyes
twinkled familiary, reminding Harry of Dumbledore, "that this is for your
own protection. Remember that what you learn in this class could save
your life."
She paused and looked around the class. "Now, I'll need a a brave soul
to help me show you what you're to learn this term. Volunteers?"
No one raised a hand, not even Hermione. Once again the students
tensed and shifted.
Finally, a timid hand rose into the air from the front row.
"Neville?" Harry asked incredulously. Neville's expression was a
combination of determination, shock at his own daring, and mind-bending
fear. Professor Green smiled at him.
"Neville!" she exclaimed. "Come up here and face me." She placed him
on one side of the room, set her wand on her desk, and stood across the
room from him.
"Now. Curse me."
"What?" Neville looked around awkwardly.
Professor Green just smiled. "Any curse will do. Jelly-Legs, full
Body-Bind ... Just curse me."
Neville thought hard and seemed to settle on a curse. He raised his
wand tentatively. "Petr--"
But before he could even pronounce the curse, Professor Green had
crossed the room. She moved so quickly that no one could see exactly
what she had done, but in an instant Neville's wand had flown into the
second row of desks, and he was laying on the floor staring up at the
ceiling. Professor Green looked down at him. Everyone gasped.
"You all right?" she asked cheerfully as she helped Neville to his feet. He looked more than alright; on his face he wore a glazed look of utter
bliss.
"But you were unarmed!" Parvati blurted out. "How did you do that?"
Neville took his seat again. "A lot of wizards consider Muggle self
defense tactics worthless," she answered. "In my opinion, those wizards
have never stared down the wrong end of a Dark wizard's wand unarmed. This term we will be studying self-defense. Muggle-style."
