The Fourth Unforgivable
Disclaimer: The characters and places present in this story were created by J.K. Rowling.
A/N: Huge thankyou to Gaia30 (Linz) who beta-ed/omega-ed this.
Harry, Hermione and Ron stepped out of Honeydukes, pockets heavy with sweets. By the time the first Hogsmeade weekend rolled around, Harry had revised with Hermione for hours on end, been to several grueling Quidditch practices, and worked his way through a load of homework.
"Did you see what they were selling on the counter? Chocolate Toads! Everyone knows they've just put Chocolate Frogs in a different wrapper and upped the price. You don't even get a free wizard card with them," Ron said passionately. Harry noted that Ron, despite his voiced disapproval, had still bought a few Chocolate Toads anyway.
"You're right, Ron. Maybe we should write to the Daily Prophet and see to it that this is sorted out," Hermione remarked.
"Good idea, Hermione. I'll do that, and you can make some badges," he replied, smiling at her. For a few seconds all three of them were preoccupied with eating their chocolate. Then Hermione asked, sounding slightly bemused, "Are those new robes, Ron?" Ron turned pink Harry looked to the new robes Ron was wearing. They were a bit too long for him, making him stumble every few steps.
"Er, yeah," Ron replied and then quickly added, as though changing the subject, "Want some bubble gum?" Hermione eagerly popped a piece into her mouth, and pulled open the door of The Three Broomsticks.
Inside, the pub was bustling with activity. Harry's eyes wandered over the faces, most of them recognisable from school. He even spotted Professors McGonagall, Flitwick and Sinistra seated together.
"How do you think the Cannons will do this season?" Ron asked, sitting down at an empty table. The Chudley Cannons were Ron's favourite Quidditch team; what they lacked in skill they made up for with enthusiasm and an army of crazed supporters. Before Harry could open his mouth, a large pop came from Hermione's direction. Harry and Ron turned to see her face covered in pink goo. Harry stifled a laugh, remembering why he'd stopped eating Drooble's Best Blowing Gum.
"Come on, Harry, let's get the drinks," Ron said hastily, pulling Harry up by his robes before Hermione could say anything. They wove through the crowded tables and ordered three butterbeers from Madam Rosmerta. Trying not to spill any, Harry picked up a tankard and turned around slowly. Ron, however, was less cautious with the glasses and sloshed a load of butterbeer on the person directly behind them - Draco Malfoy.
"Watch it, Weasley," Malfoy hissed angrily. Harry strongly suspected that, had he not been holding a tankard of butterbeer in each hand, Ron would have punched Malfoy square in the jaw. But with his hands full, and a pub packed with people to act as witnesses, Ron could do no more than frown and walk on.
Harry followed Ron, more than glad to avoid making a scene. His relief did not last long. Harry spotted Malfoy deliberately stepping on the hem on Ron's robes, but had barely opened his mouth to shout when Ron crashed to the ground in a shower of butterbeer and expletives. Harry immediately bent down to help Ron. Ron brushed Harry's outstretched hand aside and handed him two unbroken (but empty) mugs. He was dripping butterbeer from his robes and hair. Harry stifled a laugh, hearing Malfoy and his cronies chuckling behind him.
"Are you all right?" Harry asked. He was abruptly pushed aside by Professor McGonagall, dangerously sloshing the butterbeer in his own mug.
"What is going on here?" Professor McGonagall asked, bending over Ron while some other professors tried to shoo away the gathering crowd. Ron got to his feet with a pained expression. Before Harry could even open his mouth to explain what had happened, Snape's icy voice cut in.
"Of course, it's the Potter and Weasley double act," he said, surveying the mess. Harry, knowing the futility of mentioning Malfoy's name now that Snape was there, remained silent. It didn't seem to matter to Snape that Harry had done nothing but stand and watch, that there was no way he could have been a part of it and still be holding a full tankard of butterbeer.
"Now, let's not be hasty," said McGonagall. "We don't really know what happened."
Ron, seeing his chance, said, "I just tripped and fell," and then added, "Nothing's broken."
"Still, I am sure you agree that such behaviour reflects badly on the school. I think detentions would serve Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter well," Snape said. A mop glided soundlessly over to them and began cleaning up the spilled drinks. It made a move to mop Ron's robes as well, but he shooed it away. For a moment it seemed that McGonagall would protest. Unbeknown to Harry and Ron, she was sometimes driven by a little seen rebellious streak in her that usually only came out when buying expired Misfortune Cookies for Sibyll Trelawney's Christmas present. But the moment passed. The scene soon cleared and Harry and Ron made their way back to their table.
"Where'd Hermione go?" asked Ron, looking around.
"Probably trying to get the bubble gum out of her hair," replied Harry. "Is that Dobby over there?" Ron followed his gaze and spotted Dobby sitting in a darkened corner, surrounded by several figures. Their robes were tatty and spoke of wizard fashion long passed. The house-elf gestured heavily in an excited manner, holding the attention of the strangers he sat with.
"It must be his day off or something," commented Ron. Still, Harry made a mental note to ask Dobby who the strangers were the next time he saw him.
Hermione reappeared then; she had managed to get rid of most of the bubble gum, but the faint smell of strawberry still lingered. "What happened to you?" she asked, staring at Ron, who was still soaked. In a slightly embarrassed tone, Ron explained.
"You have to be more careful, Ron," said Hermione patiently.
"It's not his fault Malfoy tripped him up," commented Harry without thinking.
"Yeah, it's not my fault – what?" Hermione and Harry watched as Ron's expression turned to anger. "Why the nasty little -"
"Well, there's no point crying over spilt butterbeer," Hermione interrupted. She took out her wand, and with the word, "Siccavi," she dried Ron's robes. "Aren't you two going to the new Quidditch supplies shop?" she asked quickly while getting up.
"I s'pose," replied Ron "Why d'you ask?" he added suspiciously.
Hermione feigned incomprehension. "I just thought that while you ogled at brooms I could go see what's new at Dervish and Banges, then we could meet up in about twenty minutes outside the...post office?" Ron and Harry agreed, and they went their separate ways.
Displayed in the shop window were various Quidditch accessories, including some recently developed extra-sticky Keeper gloves. But the new shop wasn't much compared to diagon Alley and they quickly moved on. They reached the post office early and were surprised to see Hermione rush out.
"What were you doing in there?" asked Ron, looking bewildered.
"Honestly, Ron, what do you think?" replied Hermione hotly.
"Couldn't you have used a school owl?"
Hermione fiddled with her cloak pin nervously. "It was a long-haul flight," she mumbled. Harry could see the effect this had on Ron by watching his changing expression. First, there was confusion: Who does Hermione know who lives over seas? Then there was realisation: Bloody Krum! And then, there was nothing. Harry would have expected a minor explosion (he had his pacifying voice at the ready) but Ron just muttered muttered a faint "oh", and forced himself to calm down. An awkward silence ensued as Ron's flushed cheeks returned to their normal colour.
"We should get back to the castle, it's getting dark."
***
After a few days, Sirius realised that time travelling wasn't as exciting as he'd thought it would be. He'd imagined a strong feeling of being ripped from one dimension and pushed into another. He was disappointed at the simplicity of the whole process.
Remus and Sirius had travelled back hundreds of years to the village of Ludbury, searching for Mundungus Fletcher. Their search turned out to be much easier than they'd anticipated. The local people talked of nothing but the hero in their midst. There was even talk of building a statue of Mr. "Lupin" in the village square.
"Um, my name is, er, Sirius Lupin! And this is my friend James Black," replied Remus, unable to use his real name.
The local man's face lit up. "You're not a relative of Mr. Remus Lupin, are you?" The excitement in his eyes showed how much Mundungus had affected the small village.
"I suppose you could say that," replied Remus uneasily.
"Of course he's related to him, he's his brother!" said Sirius, a little too loudly. Curious passers-by stopped what they were doing to crowd around them. Remus wondered in annoyance how Sirius managed to stay incognito while on the run from the ministry.
Although Sirius thought his teasing was harmless at the time, when a spell later revealed that Remus and Mundungus were not related at all and Remus was thrown in jail for the Ludbury equivalent of fraud, Sirius reasoned that perhaps it had not been one of his finer moments.
***
Harry and Ron spent Monday afternoon serving detention in the Potions dungeon. The room was a mess. Even in the dim light, they could tell that every crack and crevice needed scrubbing. It was almost as if Snape had spent the day urging his classes to spill their armadillo bile and step on fallen bits of dried wood lice.
"Best get to it, then," said Harry, handing Ron a sponge. They had been given strict instructions that no magic was to be used to help in cleaning up. Snape had even confiscated their wands for good measure. The grime covered everything and stuck unpleasantly. "How's the nasty git expect us to get this stuff off?" Ron said, having spent 10 minutes trying to remove the same stain from a desk. Finally, with a sigh, he immersed his sponge in Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover and walked over to Snape's desk.
Slowly, the two managed to finish the job and left the classroom.
"Should we go find Hermione?" asked Harry, as they walked down the corridor.
"The word 'find' makes it seem as though we'd have to look," replied Ron, heading straight to the library.
After dragging Hermione from her beloved books, the three of them started towards the common room. Ron was telling Harry why the Cannons were sure to win the Quidditch league that year, despite coming close to the bottom of the league three years running, when Hermione spotted a lost student.
"I have to help him," said Hermione, adjusting her cloak.
"Why? No one helped us when we got lost in our first year," said Ron.
"I have to. I'm a Prefect," she said, pointing at her badge as if to prove it to him. She called out to the boy, and he came over with a distant expression.
"Are you lost?" He shook his head. "You know you're supposed to be in uniform," she said, in the kind of voice Mrs. Weasley used to tell Ron his homework needed doing. The boy looked down at the floor as if he wasn't really listening. Light from a charmed chandelier in the hallway made shadows dance across his face. His expression seemed menacing, in sharp contrast to his youthful demeanor. His eyes wandered until he suddenly looked towards them.
"I can read palms," he said, looking at them intently, as if his words had deep meaning. Harry was slightly puzzled. Only third years and above studied Divination, and very few people could actually put their lessons into practice. "I can read yours if you like," he offered, beckoning toward Hermione. She looked at Harry and Ron, who only returned her confused glance, before giving him her hand. He examined it closely, gradually bringing her hand closer to him, running his fingers along the lines on her palm.
Abruptly, he bit down hard on her fingers, let go of her hand, and sprinted down the corridor. Hermione yelped in pain, cradling her hand with the other. As the boy continued to run, Harry realised that Snape had never returned his wand. Ron chased the boy, but even with his long strides the boy outran him, pelting at an abnormal pace. Ron stopped at the end of the hallway and returned to Harry and Hermione, panting.
"What in Merlin's name was that about?" cried Ron.
Hermione pulled out her wand and muttered, "Neospori", to disinfect the bite mark.
She shrugged. "No idea, but by the look of it, that boy's got teeth like razor blades."
***
Harry, Ron, and Hermione spent the next few days searching for the mysterious boy to no avail. No one seemed to know him and no one had even seen him around the school. Finally, on their way to lessons after lunch, he showed up in the corridor. "Come on, we've got to catch him," said Harry, tearing down the hall, dodging bewildered students.
"But, Harry, we'll be late for History of Magic," Hermione whispered as they followed the boy down the twisting corridors. As Ron crept down a few steps he stumbled over his robes, and the boy spun around to face them.
They were now in an unfamiliar part of the castle, and the boy smiled as if fully aware of this. Then, without warning, he shot down a hallway to their left. Ron tore away shouting, and Harry and Hermione started after him, dropping their heavy bags as they went. They chased the boy for several heart-pounding minutes, the gap between them closing and widening as they went. Sometimes, they were so far behind, all they had to guide them was the sound of pounding footsteps. Other times, they were so close, Harry felt as if he could reach out and grab onto the boy's ragged shirt. The small boy lead them right, left, then left again, down a flight of stairs and ran...straight through a wall.
Ron stopped, gasping for breath, and leaned against the left wall. Harry felt dizzy, tired, lost, and confused all at once. Hermione bent over, massaging the stitch in her side. "Where'd...he...go?" asked Harry, between mouthfuls of air.
"He was here, and then he wasn't," replied Ron, unable to shake the feeling that they were part of some elaborate Slytherin plot. Hermione examined the wall silently. "Think he was a ghost?" offered Ron. "No, guess not. Ghosts don't bite."
"What if it's like the barrier to Platform 9 ¾?" said Harry, thoughtfully, feeling that it was less likely he was going to fall over now that his head had stopped spinning.
"Must be!" said Ron, ready to follow the small boy's path through the wall.
"Hang on a minute. This could be a trap," said Hermione, grabbing hold of Ron's arm. "We have no way of telling what's behind this wall."
"But it can't be anything dangerous, or he wouldn't have gone in," reasoned Ron. He too examined the wall.
"I don't like this. It's just…not right…" remarked Hermione.
"Look, there's only one way to find out what's on the other side of this wall," Ron said.
"I'll go first," said Harry, but Hermione stopped him.
"No, it's best we go together," she said, taking her wand from her pocket. Harry and Ron followed suit and held their wands up to the wall. Harry thought it would look very odd to anyone walking past: three fifth years, wands at the ready, staring intently at a nondescript wall when they should have been in class.
On three, then. "One." Harry took a deep breath, trying to calm down. "Two." They were curious, but determined. "Three." His stomach lurched.
The three of them stepped through the wall, prepared to face whatever they found on the other side, be it a Dementor or an angry seven-foot kitten. They had no chance to act, though. Harry caught just a glimpse of a wooden desk and a hooded figure before a powerful light filled the room, blinding him.
