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The entire school was eerily empty. Neither Snape nor Harry encountered another living soul as they walked through the halls. Harry cleared his throat, a sound that echoed and was magnified. "Professor, where is everyone?" He watched the Grey Lady float by, becoming barely visible as she passed through a bar of pale sunlight.
Snape didn't turn around or slow his pace. "All students have been restrained to their common rooms until lunch."
"Oh." Harry massaged his sore shoulder absently. They made it down a staircase in silence before he hazarded again, "So what's going on?"
"The Headmaster will tell you what's going on, Potter. Please cease your attempts at conversation; you are the last person I would want to engage in such."
"Don't flatter yourself," muttered Harry under his breath. He flinched as the castle's walls, unhindered by the usual crowd of students, caught his words and hissed them back loudly.
Snape stopped and slowly pivoted around. Harry grimaced. "You weren't supposed to hear that."
Surprise flickered across Snape's cold eyes, mirroring Harry's own at his newfound daring. "No doubt," said Snape after a moment, his lip curling. Harry waited for the inevitable, "Five points from Gryffindor," but it never came. The Potions master simply turned and continued walking.
They reached the statue of the stone gargoyle, no less ugly for the two years Harry had known of it. "Tiddle-tweak," said Snape, looking a bit more sour than usual. Harry hid a smirk--sometimes he wondered if Dumbledore's various eccentricities weren't created in the Headmaster's spare time for the sole purpose of annoying Snape.
The wall behind the gargoyle split in two as the monstrous creature sprang aside. There was the spiraling case of stairs. They stepped onto it and circled higher and higher until a shining oak door came into sight. Snape and Harry stepped off of the peculiar escalator and the former rapped sharply on the door, ignoring the golden griffin knocker. A dizzy feeling of deja vu overcame Harry as the door swung silently in of its own accord, except this time instead of an empty, circular room full of curious instruments, he and Snape stood on the threshold of a large, circular room that seemed much smaller for the presence of Minerva McGonagall, Professor 'Harrison', and Dumbledore himself.
"Ah, Harry. Severus." Dumbledore waved them inside; the door clicked softly shut behind them. "There's no need to worry," he continued, walking around the desk and sitting down in a plush, comfortable looking chair, "everyone here has been told everything about everything." Dumbledore looked at Harry as he said this, who in turn shot a quick look at McGonagall. She only nodded calmly.
Or has known. Harry felt a sinking in his stomach. He wondered if 'everything' included exactly how Sirius had escaped two years ago. Snape didn't kill me on sight, so probably not...
Rysk snorted softly from where she leaned against the wall like a cat, an open look of skepticism crossing her face. McGonagall glared at the younger witch coldly. "So. What the hell do we do?"
"Watch the language, please, Ms. Harrison; there's a student here," said Dumbledore mildly. Harry fidgeted, wondering exactly what a student was doing here. "You see, Harry," Dumbledore was looking right at him again, stroking his silver beard, "we've brought you in because your input would be most valuable."
"Wh...what do you mean?"
Dumbledore let out a sigh through his nose, hesitating.
"He means that you're the one with the scar, Potter." Harry whirled quickly to look at Rysk. She was still watching him with those grey eyes. "You're the only person we know who's seen Voldemort's new body and lived. So tell us about him."
Harry's mouth opened and shut twice as his hand went up instinctively to touch his scar. "I...he kills people. That's all I know. He...still has followers. Malfoy and Avery and..." He broke off, running a hand through his untidy hair. "But you already know about those." He looked about the room uncomfortably and saw Snape staring fixedly at Rysk, his cold black eyes narrowed slightly. Dumbledore and McGonagall exchanged glances.
"Severus," said Dumbledore gently, "I would not ask you to become a spy again..."
"I can try, if I must, Headmaster," said Snape, glancing away from Rysk. The conviction in Snape's voice surprised Harry.
"I know," said Dumbledore sadly, his old face haunted by memories. "But you won't need to." A muscle in Snape's jaw jumped as the Potions master tried to control his own expression. "I'm sure all of you have gathered that rescuing Remus Lupin will be our top priority."
"They'll torture him," said Snape emotionlessly.
"All the more reason to get to him now," snapped McGonagall, chomping at the bit in her own stern, reserved way.
Rysk left the wall and walked over to where Fawkes, Dumbledore's pet phoenix, rested on his perch. Unlike the majority of those present in the room, Fawkes seemed to have no objections to Rysk as she stroked his head in a familiar way. "How long," she said, alarming in her quietness, "until the full moon?"
Everyone stiffened, save for Dumbledore. Harry blinked hard as Snape jerked and stared at Rysk's back. Throughout the thick silence Rysk continued to pet Fawkes, her long fingers moving over the phoenix's beautiful plumage in thoughtful admiration.
Dumbledore calmly swung his chair around. "Three days, Ms. Harrison."
"Does that give us anything?" Rysk asked, turning and looking at Dumbledore.
"Little is known about werewolves," replied Dumbledore dryly, "but--"
"It's a commonly known fact among scholars that as transformation approaches the wolf inside the man grows more prominent; more easily touched by the psyche," rapped a cold voice.
Harry looked up sharply at Snape. His black eyes were narrowed to mere slits as he tried to catch Rysk's gaze. The strange witch gazed fixedly at a point on the wall for several moments. Snape's breath caught; it seemed to Harry that the man was using all of his power to draw Rysk's eyes. Finally, she crossed her arms and raised her head, looking more analytical than ever. As one side of her shirt hitched upwards Harry saw a flash of white bandages. "So you're saying that he might...hide behind the wolf."
A nasty smile twisted at Snape's lips; a distant light came into his eyes as he continued to stare at Rysk. "A werewolf...cares nothing for pain."
The two teachers' gazes remained locked for long seconds. Harry felt the air crackle with the heat of a silent, incomprehensible battle. He swallowed and cleared his throat. "He's used to it."
All eyes turned onto Harry, including Snape's. "What?"
"Professor Lupin," explained Harry softly. "He's used to pain."
Dumbledore nodded. "Right you are, Harry." For a fleeting moment Harry thought he saw gratitude in the Headmaster's eyes before he stood. "Remus Lupin is strong. But after reverting back into a man I believe he will be quite drained. Am I correct, Severus?"
"Quite, Headmaster." Snape put a hand to his head.
"Severus? Are you all right?" inquired McGonagall. She sounded a bit too keen.
"I'm fine." Snape dropped his hand abruptly. "I'm fine."
"Do you think they know?" Rysk's grey eyes flicked around the room in a scathing manner. "Do you think they know he's a werewolf?"
How do you know he's a werewolf? demanded Harry silently. The same thought was running through his Potions teacher's mind as well, if his expression were any indication.
"They're going to find out," said McGonagall grimly.
"What if they kill him?" blurted Harry.
Dumbledore shook his head. "Voldemort is more persistent than that." A shadow passed over his twinkling blue eyes. "I doubt anything like a werewolf would bother Tom Riddle much."
McGonagall winced. "Albus!"
If Harry hadn't been standing next to Snape he would have never detected the tremor that ran through his body. Rysk's eyes remained hooded, looking almost bored, unfazed by the mention of the Dark Lord's name.
Dumbledore looked solemnly at McGonagall. "Minerva, if we are to fight a war against Voldemort, I don't see how we'll manage it if we're afraid to even say his name."
A grandfather clock marked with various stars and constellations hanging behind Dumbledore's desk suddenly chimed out the hour. Everyone turned as the celestial bodies set into the face of the clock rearranged themselves in a seemingly random way. It was twelve o'clock.
"Lunch!" exclaimed Dumbledore, as though nothing else in the world mattered. "Minerva, Severus, if you could help the others in organizing the students...? I'll be down shortly; we'll discuss this further afterwards."
Harry waited until Snape and McGonagall had walked past before turning and stepping out the door.
"Harry, a word, please."
Harry stopped and wheeled about as he felt a hand on his arm. Rysk pulled him smoothly inside the office before he could make a sound and firmly shut the door. With a gasp Harry tried to pull away only to encounter a grip stronger than iron. A second later she let him go.
"That wasn't necessary, Ms. Harrison," said Dumbledore. His flashing eyes negated the lightness of his voice.
"Come off it, Dumbledore." Rysk's accent was becoming even more pronounced. "He knows."
Harry rubbed at his shoulder again; the muscle had been jerked by Rysk's sharp pull. "What's going on?" he demanded, looking at Dumbledore, "What is she talking about?"
"Her name, of course," replied the Headmaster in an easy tone, hitching a hip over the desk.
Harry bit the inside of his cheek, looking back and forth between Dumbledore and Rysk.
"Black let it slip," said Rysk disgustedly.
"Carmen, Harry will be working with us. Now, more than ever, I need trust among my allies."
Rysk arched an eyebrow at Dumbledore, her cold face a picture of sarcastic contempt. Harry cleared his throat and ventured, "Carmen Rysk?" Rysk glanced at Harry coolly. "So what do I call you now?"
"You call me Professor Harrison." Harry was glad he couldn't see her face as she was moving toward Fawkes again: the sudden, dangerous iciness in her voice was enough to send shivers down his spine. "And don't you forget it."
"Harry, you must understand: Professor Harrison's true name is not something to be tossed about lightly." Dumbledore's gentle but piercing gaze was every bit as unnerving as Rysk herself. "I expect you to treat this secret as you would your godfather's presence in this school."
Harry swallowed and nodded. "Yes, sir." I am going to have a nice, long talk with Sirius over this...
Rysk was gazing raptly at the starry clock. "Full moon's rising."
"So is the werewolf."
Rysk twisted her shoulders and glanced at Harry. "We have three days." She looked to Dumbledore. "Do you think he can hold out as long as that?"
"It's more than we have any right to ask of any man," said Dumbledore gravely, folding his thin, aged fingers. "Werewolf or no."
"I say we have a back up plan."
"Which is?"
Rysk was impossibly cold. "Kill him."
Harry blinked. "What? No--"
"Carmen." Dumbledore's voice was steely and his eyes were blazing. "Killing is not an option."
Unlike Fudge, Rysk was not cowed in the least. "If they break him, then he's a liability. Hell, he's a liability right now--"
"Killing is not an option."
Professor 'Harrison' turned all the way around and leaned back slightly, steepling her fingers on her abdomen as she studied Dumbledore. After a moment she straightened and tightened her ponytail. "It's your Order," she shrugged, and with an impressive if unintended furl of her robes she turned and walked out.
****
Harry stared after her. Once the door clicked shut he spun on his heel to face Dumbledore. The Headmaster looked deeply tired. "Who is she?" he demanded.
Dumbledore looked up. "Don't you want lunch, Harry?"
"I've lost my appetite," said Harry truthfully. "Who is she? Sirius said they went to Hogwarts together."
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Hogwarts? No, I'm afraid they didn't attend together, Harry--your godfather's class had graduated when she started."
"No," Harry insisted, "he said she's not as young as she looks."
Dumbledore sighed. "Sit down, Harry." He waved a hand and a chair appeared behind Harry. Beyond surprise by now, he sat. "I'm afraid I cannot tell you the entire truth. Professor Harrison's past is her own, and a unique one. Out of respect and other reasons, I must omit several facts. However, I trust I can set your mind at ease."
"I hope so," muttered Harry. "She's crazy."
Amusement crinkled Dumbledore's wise face. "Crazy? Perhaps. No more crazy than you or me. Now, then, what's bothering you? I will answer what I can."
"Snape," said Harry immediately. "He gets a headache almost every time he sees her. Once his Dark Mark burned, and my scar hurt." He tapped his forehead for emphasis. "Why?"
"Alas, your first question is one I cannot answer." Dumbledore paused to fish through his robes for a lemon drop.
"I won't say anything," insisted Harry hotly.
"Please, Harry. I have every faith in your integrity." Dumbledore studied him gravely over his half-moon spectacles. "It is not you I am worried about, it is the safety of Professor Harrison."
"Rysk? She--"
"Professor Harrison, Harry."
"Right, Professor Harrison--you're worried about her safety?"
"In a sense." Dumbledore smiled gently at the frustration that passed over Harry's face. He took a breath and tried again.
"All right...then why couldn't you disarm her last night? What was she holding last night?"
To Harry's surprise, Dumbledore chuckled. "Your teacher is not a conventional witch, Harry."
No kidding.
"Her expertise rests mainly in combat, although she's also competent in other fields. Her life experiences have given her a preference for Muggle weapons as well as the wand, and she is very deadly with such weapons, I might add. She carries a knife, enchanted along with its sheath for invisibility. The reason I could not disarm her last night was because she has performed a complicated charm on it that bonds a weapon to its owner's very will. Such a strong bond was one I could not break. That blade has saved her life countless times."
"That explains the belt," breathed Harry to himself absently. "Is...does she still have it?"
"I could not take it from her if I tried," replied Dumbledore, not sounding disturbed in the least.
"Aren't you afraid she might...she might hurt someone?"
"A student? No, Harry, Professor Harrison would never harm one of you." A dry smile tugged at the Headmaster's lips. "As much as things may seem to the contrary."
Harry shook his head, dazed. "I don't understand."
"I don't expect you to." A shadow passed over Dumbledore's eyes. "I hope you never do." He twisted around to glance at the mystical clock. "Lunch is halfway over, Harry. You haven't eaten since this time yesterday; I guarantee the moment you smell food you will be ravenous."
"You're probably right," said Harry, trying not to think of empty stomachs. He didn't move from the chair. "Was she a transfer student, then?"
"Of sorts." Dumbledore walked over to the door and held it open for Harry. Harry hesitated before standing and walking to the Headmaster. He looked up expectantly. "Your robes will be in your dormitory," said Dumbledore, the reassuring twinkle returning to his blue eyes. "Eat well."
The door closed softly and Harry found himself on a spiraling escalator that had reversed direction. Only then did the last puzzle piece from the horrible night before click into place.
Oh, God. What did they do with that Death Eater?
