Disclaimer: I own nothing of this...blah blah blah. You know the drill.
Author's Note: This chapter is uneventful. I apologize. You see, I altered this part a lot. Ron and Hermione were going to do some detective work in the original to see who had checked out an Image Magic book in the Restricted section, (the one in my handy-dandy notebook) but I decided that that was extremely dumb and tedious. It gets better, I promise. Because I had to change a lot, there may be loopholes or problems. Please tell me about them, if you would. And, REVIEW! I might not write more if you don't. Flames are fine, but only if they are helpful.
Thanks to Soupie for reviewing. I need much encouragement.
Hermione quickly left the Hospital Wing to find Ron. She decided to go to the Common Room; Quidditch practice would be ending soon. The moment he stepped through the door she nearly pounced on him.
"Ron!"
"Oh, hey Hermione," he said. She opened her mouth to tell him about Harry, but he held up a hand and said, "Hold that thought, alright? I need to go upstairs and sleep for about a month. Alicia worked us hard out there. I feel dead." But before he could take another step she near- shouted at him.
"Harry's going to die!"
Many people turned and stared for a moment, but then turned away, annoyed. Ron and Hermione spent so much of their time bickering and arguing that most of Gryffindor routinely ignored them.
"What?" he whispered. She explained hastily all that had taken place.
"Image Magic? What's that?" he asked.
"I think I know, maybe—I'm not sure. I need to check the library."
"As always," he muttered, awarding him a glare, "Well, while you do that, I'll go take a nap." He began to walk away, but she grabbed him by the neck of his Quidditch robes and dragged him to the portrait hole.
"You're coming with me," she said.
"So I gathered," he gasped, massaging his neck.
Their walk to the library was a short one. Hermione had, using the Marauders Map, mapped the quickest route to the library, because she used it so often. It involved going through two secret passageways, hidden by tapestries, and giving a password ("Serapis") to the statue of Conrad the Clever.
When they arrived, Hermione, who was best at researching, looked for books, while Ron went to Madam Pomfrey to ask where to find them.
"Image Magic?" she asked sharply, "Why would you need that information? I see no reason why a mediocre Sixth Year student would need a book on that."
"It does matter why I need it!" he said in a voice that was a little louder than what is acceptable in a library; he was angry at being called mediocre. What did she know about his grades, anyhow?"
"Shhh," was her only reply. Without another glance at the exasperated boy before her, she returned to magically fixing the binding on a small leather volume. Apparently, the matter was closed.
Ron sighed angrily and walked away, muttering audibly about "typical, obsessive librarians."
"Hermione," he groaned as he flopped his lanky form into the chair beside her, "Madam Ugly Vulture wont even listen to me. Image Magic must be some freaky stuff; she doesn't seem to think I should be reading it. She just shushed me." He couldn't tell if she was listening; there were too many books surrounding her and blocking her face, but he soon found out she had heard every word.
"Typical," she grumbled, "I send you off with the easy job and you fumble it all up! I suppose I'll go and talk to her, you wouldn't understand how to talk to a librarian." With that she rose out of her chair and stalked off. It was always traumatic for Hermione when her trusty old library let her down.
Ron settled in for what he thought would be endless hours of paging through books, like it had been with Nicholas Flamel. If Hermione couldn't find it in the first five minutes, chances were it couldn't be found. He grabbed a promising-looking book from a nearby shelf labeled "The Dark Forces You Cannot Avoid". He looked in the index and instantly found Image Magic. He allowed himself a moment to smile smugly at finding it before Hermione before flipping to the page. This is what he read:
Image Magic
One of the oldest, darkest, and hard-to–prevent forms of magic, Image
Magic was banned by the Council of Wizards in 1289 B.C. when it became
a serious threat. Often called Voodoo, Image Magic involves making an
effigy, a clay or wax model that represents a person you hate. Then,
after much chanting and many incantations, you harm the effigy in some
way, often melting or stabbing. Whatever you do to the effigy will,
if done correctly, happen to the person. No cure has yet been found
for this. The last known practitioner of Image Magic was none other
than the notorious Dark Wizard Grindelwald in the 1940's.
"The guy Dumbledore defeated..." muttered Ron.
"What?" asked Hermione, who had returned with a book in her hand labeled Voodoo in silver letters.
"Nothing," he said, "I found something, though."
"Really?" she looked surprised, "So did I. And it's awful isn't it?"
"Yeah," said Ron, suddenly extremely worried for Harry, "But Dumbledore wasn't sure, was he?"
"No..." she paused, "But you know Dumbledore, he's always right."
"Oh God," Ron put his head in his hands. If there wasn't a cure, and it didn't seem as if there was, then Harry would...die. Ron couldn't even fathom life without Harry, his best friend since the Hogwarts Express back in First Year. In his mind, Ron went over all the times they had shared, good and bad, and he was suddenly resolved. He would not let Harry die. But then, seconds later, he realized how truly dumb that was. There was nothing, nothing at all he could do to save his friend.
"Do you think Malfoy did it, Ron?" Hermione's voice cut through his morbid thoughts.
"Yes," he said immediately, "...no. Dumbledore is always right, like you said. And nobody saw him. Even he, I think, would not go that far...maybe."
"I think he might," said Hermione, "He's never shown any signs of not being exactly like his father."
"He is exactly like his father," said Ron, "But he's never killed anyone. He's all talk. I doubt he even has the guts—"
"Are you defending him?"
"No," he said immediately, repulsed by the very idea, "It's just what I think."
"Oh. Well I think he did it. The way he was laughing—you should have heard it. I could hear it from many halls away; it was terrible, evil. It made me shudder."
"Exactly," Ron said, surprising her further by defending Malfoy again, "Would he have stood over Harry and laughed like a maniac if he had just killed him? That'd be stupid. Malfoy deserves to be called many foul and disgusting words, but dumb is not one of them—"
"You think he's smart?" Hermione would have laughed had the situation not been so grim.
"He's, like, fourth in the class! If he had done it he would have stayed as far away as possible, wouldn't he have?"
"Maybe," she said with a sigh, "We may never know."
Author's Note: This chapter is uneventful. I apologize. You see, I altered this part a lot. Ron and Hermione were going to do some detective work in the original to see who had checked out an Image Magic book in the Restricted section, (the one in my handy-dandy notebook) but I decided that that was extremely dumb and tedious. It gets better, I promise. Because I had to change a lot, there may be loopholes or problems. Please tell me about them, if you would. And, REVIEW! I might not write more if you don't. Flames are fine, but only if they are helpful.
Thanks to Soupie for reviewing. I need much encouragement.
Hermione quickly left the Hospital Wing to find Ron. She decided to go to the Common Room; Quidditch practice would be ending soon. The moment he stepped through the door she nearly pounced on him.
"Ron!"
"Oh, hey Hermione," he said. She opened her mouth to tell him about Harry, but he held up a hand and said, "Hold that thought, alright? I need to go upstairs and sleep for about a month. Alicia worked us hard out there. I feel dead." But before he could take another step she near- shouted at him.
"Harry's going to die!"
Many people turned and stared for a moment, but then turned away, annoyed. Ron and Hermione spent so much of their time bickering and arguing that most of Gryffindor routinely ignored them.
"What?" he whispered. She explained hastily all that had taken place.
"Image Magic? What's that?" he asked.
"I think I know, maybe—I'm not sure. I need to check the library."
"As always," he muttered, awarding him a glare, "Well, while you do that, I'll go take a nap." He began to walk away, but she grabbed him by the neck of his Quidditch robes and dragged him to the portrait hole.
"You're coming with me," she said.
"So I gathered," he gasped, massaging his neck.
Their walk to the library was a short one. Hermione had, using the Marauders Map, mapped the quickest route to the library, because she used it so often. It involved going through two secret passageways, hidden by tapestries, and giving a password ("Serapis") to the statue of Conrad the Clever.
When they arrived, Hermione, who was best at researching, looked for books, while Ron went to Madam Pomfrey to ask where to find them.
"Image Magic?" she asked sharply, "Why would you need that information? I see no reason why a mediocre Sixth Year student would need a book on that."
"It does matter why I need it!" he said in a voice that was a little louder than what is acceptable in a library; he was angry at being called mediocre. What did she know about his grades, anyhow?"
"Shhh," was her only reply. Without another glance at the exasperated boy before her, she returned to magically fixing the binding on a small leather volume. Apparently, the matter was closed.
Ron sighed angrily and walked away, muttering audibly about "typical, obsessive librarians."
"Hermione," he groaned as he flopped his lanky form into the chair beside her, "Madam Ugly Vulture wont even listen to me. Image Magic must be some freaky stuff; she doesn't seem to think I should be reading it. She just shushed me." He couldn't tell if she was listening; there were too many books surrounding her and blocking her face, but he soon found out she had heard every word.
"Typical," she grumbled, "I send you off with the easy job and you fumble it all up! I suppose I'll go and talk to her, you wouldn't understand how to talk to a librarian." With that she rose out of her chair and stalked off. It was always traumatic for Hermione when her trusty old library let her down.
Ron settled in for what he thought would be endless hours of paging through books, like it had been with Nicholas Flamel. If Hermione couldn't find it in the first five minutes, chances were it couldn't be found. He grabbed a promising-looking book from a nearby shelf labeled "The Dark Forces You Cannot Avoid". He looked in the index and instantly found Image Magic. He allowed himself a moment to smile smugly at finding it before Hermione before flipping to the page. This is what he read:
Image Magic
One of the oldest, darkest, and hard-to–prevent forms of magic, Image
Magic was banned by the Council of Wizards in 1289 B.C. when it became
a serious threat. Often called Voodoo, Image Magic involves making an
effigy, a clay or wax model that represents a person you hate. Then,
after much chanting and many incantations, you harm the effigy in some
way, often melting or stabbing. Whatever you do to the effigy will,
if done correctly, happen to the person. No cure has yet been found
for this. The last known practitioner of Image Magic was none other
than the notorious Dark Wizard Grindelwald in the 1940's.
"The guy Dumbledore defeated..." muttered Ron.
"What?" asked Hermione, who had returned with a book in her hand labeled Voodoo in silver letters.
"Nothing," he said, "I found something, though."
"Really?" she looked surprised, "So did I. And it's awful isn't it?"
"Yeah," said Ron, suddenly extremely worried for Harry, "But Dumbledore wasn't sure, was he?"
"No..." she paused, "But you know Dumbledore, he's always right."
"Oh God," Ron put his head in his hands. If there wasn't a cure, and it didn't seem as if there was, then Harry would...die. Ron couldn't even fathom life without Harry, his best friend since the Hogwarts Express back in First Year. In his mind, Ron went over all the times they had shared, good and bad, and he was suddenly resolved. He would not let Harry die. But then, seconds later, he realized how truly dumb that was. There was nothing, nothing at all he could do to save his friend.
"Do you think Malfoy did it, Ron?" Hermione's voice cut through his morbid thoughts.
"Yes," he said immediately, "...no. Dumbledore is always right, like you said. And nobody saw him. Even he, I think, would not go that far...maybe."
"I think he might," said Hermione, "He's never shown any signs of not being exactly like his father."
"He is exactly like his father," said Ron, "But he's never killed anyone. He's all talk. I doubt he even has the guts—"
"Are you defending him?"
"No," he said immediately, repulsed by the very idea, "It's just what I think."
"Oh. Well I think he did it. The way he was laughing—you should have heard it. I could hear it from many halls away; it was terrible, evil. It made me shudder."
"Exactly," Ron said, surprising her further by defending Malfoy again, "Would he have stood over Harry and laughed like a maniac if he had just killed him? That'd be stupid. Malfoy deserves to be called many foul and disgusting words, but dumb is not one of them—"
"You think he's smart?" Hermione would have laughed had the situation not been so grim.
"He's, like, fourth in the class! If he had done it he would have stayed as far away as possible, wouldn't he have?"
"Maybe," she said with a sigh, "We may never know."