A/N- Wow. Two chapters in one week. I'm on a roll, here, people. Plus,
if ff.net hadn't been acting up, last chapter would have been up on the
12th. Oh, well. Anyway, thanks to all my reviewers. Due to your
encouragement, I've decided to take some creative writing classes, and I
may try to break into the real writing world eventually, though that will
be under my real name. I'll let you know what happens with that! Now, on
with the story!
Bonds of Pain
Chapter Eighteen
In which there are potions, a bird, and a Chamber
Severus was in Lecture Mode. The Monday morning class of fifth-year Slytherins and Gryffindors should have been taking notes on the Frateris potion, but the Dream Team was the only group in the classroom with their quills moving. Granger, Brown, and Potter had fountain pens instead of quills, of course, as it was easier for them, but it was better than them getting ink all over their fingers and using a quill.
"When used with the proper incantation, this draught will form a bond between the drinkers. The strength of the bond depends on the nature of the relationship beforehand. Enemies tend to hate each other more. Casual acquaintances and friends by association face little to no change at all. Good friends become closer, more towards best friends. Best friends will become like siblings, some even sharing telepathic bonds from the potion. Lovers either become nearly inseparable with a telepathic link, or they are driven apart by doubts and lies. Soulmates share the most dramatic change. They have been reported to be able to pinpoint each other around the globe, share telepathy, sometimes even telekinesis and wandless magic, and there is nothing that can come between them afterwards." Uh oh. The Dream Team was exchanging glances Severus recognized from his time as the target of the Marauders. They wanted to make the draught and try it themselves. Well, at least the only desk covered in inkblots would be Longbottom's.
"None of you will be attempting this potion." A sharp glance at his godson, sitting between Potter and Brown. "Many of the ingredients are extremely rare and require permits to acquire them. Some are not even in my private stores." That was a blatant lie, but the lean man was good at lying. Albus had supplied him with enough of the ingredients to make sixty doses, but he had refused to allow the students to make such a dangerous formula. In exchange for this concession, he was to have fifteen doses ready to be used at any time. "The recipe is on page 421. Study this, as the Frateris draught is on the list of possible OWL testing materials." Severus sat down and opened a slender book on his desk. Quill in hand, he began to translate the Atlantean runes so he could eventually study the potion formulae later.
The remainder of the period passed quietly, the students doing their level best to memorize and Severus struggling through the multitude of runes. It seemed the author of the ancient grimoire had used a different rune for every element of the potions. The text alone was nearly as elaborate as the Japanese kanji, and the ingredients were worse than ancient Chinese.
When the bell rang, Severus gently closed the old book and put away his materials before looking up. It was time for lunch, after all, and he expected all the students to head straight for the Great Hall. Instead, he was faced with five Gryffindors at his desk, including his favourite.
"Can I do something for you, Draco?"
"Well." The blond boy looked around before leaning in towards him. "We wanted to ask if you'd any news from the front. It's been too quiet lately, especially since Sunday, and Harry keeps getting the nagging feeling that something big is going on. We're part of this, no matter how little you like it, and we may be part of the solution. If that is so, we need to be kept informed so we can accomplish our goals with a minimum of hurt for those who should stay out of this." His godson's silvery stare bore into him, and he could feel four more, though he never looked away: an emerald gaze from Potter, calm but determined to get his way; sapphire from the Weasley boy, ready to pound the life out of him and damn the consequences; peridot from Granger, curious and ready to devour anything he let slip; and finally, tanzanite from Brown, simply watching. He had often wondered how her eyes had acquired such an odd hue for a Muggle-born, as strange and brilliant eyes usually showed up in ancient families.
"I will speak with the headmaster about this when the lot of you are at lunch," he replied, rubbing his right temple. He hadn't noticed the headache during his translating, but now it hit with full force. His pain- muddled brain only barely registered Draco shooing the other Gryffindors from the room before he reached into his desk to pull a packet of Muggle headache powder from a drawstring bag and took it, washing the bitter, chalky substance down with a glass of water.
When the pain in his head subsided, he noticed another pain in his arm. His left arm. The sleeve was quickly rolled up, and the skull and snake in his flesh glowed a sickly green laced with black. Severus cursed and flung Floo Powder into the fireplace with his good hand. As he stepped into the flames, a breathy, panicked shout of "Dumbledore's office!" echoed through the silent dungeons.
Moments later, the lanky man stepped into the headmaster's office and nearly ran over a surprised youngest Weasley.
"Professor! Is something wrong? Wait, your arm." The red-headed girl reached for his left arm. He looked down in panic-had he left the sleeve up?-but his robes covered halfway down the back of his hand, the incriminating mark safely concealed.
"It is nothing, Miss Weasley. I must speak to the headmaster, alone." Severus' chill tone did nothing to stop the child. A quick look at her eyes told him that, from her dazed expression, she was acting on pure, undiluted instinct. A surprisingly strong grip caught his arm just above and below the cursed tattoo. "Albus!" The normally unflappable Potions Master was now in complete panic mode.
He made a-Merlin forbid-whimpering noise when his mentor entered the room. The bearded man took one look at the situation before shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose.
No amount of shaking was releasing Severus from the Weasley girl's grip, and she was standing as still as if she were a part of the castle stonework. The lean man gave up and glared at the child, but the look softened into sheer surprise when he realized the pain from the Dark Mark was dulled and rapidly ebbing.
"Albus, what in nine hells is she doing to me?" Dark eyes focussed on the headmaster again. The older man sighed and sat in his chair.
"During her Herbology class, one of Virginia's classmates was injured by wild razor grass. Mr. Holly's let was cut nearly to the bone, and Miss Weasley made a valiant effort to slow the bleeding manually. She had one hand on either side of the wound when she says some instinct pushed magic through her hands and into the wound. Mr. Holly was walking five minutes later when Poppy arrived."
Dear gods, not another special ability in the Dream Team. Draco's mind- bond with Potter was enough, and now Brown is a Seer. Then what his mentor was saying hit him.
"If she fed magic into the wound and then he was walking when Poppy arrived, she must have healed him." When Albus nodded, Severus hitched up his left sleeve and stared at the delicate and pale skin of his forearm. The evil symbol still lurked there, but it was a mere ghost, even fainter than it had been for years after that fateful Halloween nearly fourteen years earlier. A timid touch on his elbow caused him to turn around, his wondering gaze met by childlike chocolate-coloured eyes and red hair.
"You did want it gone, didn't you, Professor?" Severus nodded before he noticed the tremendously pale hue of Miss Weasley's skin. He barely managed to catch the falling girl in time to save her from cracking her head open on the flagstones. She had used so much energy that it very nearly caused malfunctions in her own body. Fortunate that she merely collapsed in a dead faint.
"Gods. There are people who are going to want to simply use her until she dies from drainage. There hasn't been a true Healer since I was in school, and she died in my third year." The woman had been in her eighties when she had healed a very battered Hufflepuff chaser who had fallen from his broom after a broadside from a Bludger. The boy was completely healthy afterwards, but Madam Aglen had used too much of her magic and died within a day. Pomfrey had been the woman's apprentice and therefore took over the ward at that point.
"Yes. I do miss Cassandra Aglen. Wonderful woman." There had been rumours that Albus fancied his mediwitch, as Severus recalled. Two seemingly random bits of information in his head suddenly connected, and the lean man looked up at his mentor.
"She must be the Healer in Miss Brown's rhyme." The old wizard nodded in return.
"True, I had that notion as well. I doubt there is much coincidence in the fact that the words were spoken yesterday and this shows itself today. Perhaps the talent was waiting for a trigger." Severus' eyes narrowed to glare at the oblivious Gryffindor, but Albus interrupted. "I believe this was as much of a surprise to her as it is to us. Tell me, did you get any sense of whether Miss Brown had prophesised before?" One of the things that made the Potions Master excel in his field was his feel for magic and the way it reacted to various stimuli.
"She had, many times," he admitted. If she had been able to feel a prophecy on its way and told her friends to write it down, there was no way it had been the first to leave her lips. The dour man cast a considering look at the teen he still supported before setting her in a chair. "Now that I think about it and probe the Healing magic, she's only used that twice." Once to heal Holly, the second. He tenderly touched the faint brand and then poked harder when it didn't even twinge. A wry chuckle from the wizened wizard caused a sheepish smile.
"So she has nearly put that to rights?"
"Mmm. It doesn't hurt at all, sir."
"Now, Severus, you know not to 'sir' me." The old argument stirring again, the pair of men waited for Virginia Weasley to wake.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Myrtle?" Harry tapped on the door of the second-floor girls' loo. "Can I come in? It's Harry." He waited for a moment before nearly jumping out of his skin when the teenage ghost's head came through the wood in front of him.
"Harry! You've come to see me!" Myrtle actually looked happy, her face going from mope to radiant grin in a heartbeat.
"Yeah," the raven-haired boy replied. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you for a bit." If anything, the ghost-girl's smile got wider.
"Of course. Come in. None of the girls ever use my toilet, you know that." Myrtle withdrew from the door, and Harry pushed it open so he could slip through. A pair of quick charms locked the door and silenced the openings.
"Myrtle, do you know who killed you?" The words seemed so callous to the green-eyed boy that he winced. Myrtle was unfazed.
"Nope. Just remember those eyes. Do you know? I'd gladly haunt them if they were still alive."
"Well, you might be surprised by the answer. Do you remember Tom Riddle? He was a prefect in Slytherin that year, Head Boy the next." It was hard for him not to fidget, and he sat down between two of the sinks.
"Tom? Of course I remember the git. He was so snooty to us Muggle-borns, but everyone knew he was half and half. He was such a prick. Don't know how he got to be Head Boy." Harry had to suppress a grin.
"I see. He's been such a hypocrite. I wonder what would happen if his followers found out about that."
"What followers? Nobody's heard of Tom Riddle in decades. I didn't know you'd heard of him." Poor Myrtle looked so confused. He just had to let the cat out of the bag.
"Anyone who knows anything in our world has heard of him. They just don't know his name's actually Tom Riddle. He prefers the name Voldemort." The spectre's indignant squawk nearly took his head off.
"WHAT?!? You mean to tell me that Mr. 'I'm so much better than you because I'm in Slytherin' Riddle is the Dark Lord?!"
"Aye," the ebon-haired boy replied. "And he was the one behind the Chamber of Secrets attacks both times. He killed you, and he tried to use Ginny to give his sixteen-year-old self a new body. That was why she tried to flush that diary. It had part of him in it, and he possessed her. She fought."
"Oh." The ghostly girl nodded, absently chewing on her finger. "You know, I rather like the idea of tormenting Voldemort for the rest of his days. That might hamper his schemes for world domination a wee bit." Myrtle's smirk made her companion shiver.
"Remind me never to get on your bad side." Harry shuddered again, causing the ghost to giggle. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to commit a little espionage on the side, would you?" The pale form next to him floated on her stomach, heels waving and chin cupped in one hand as if she lay on an invisible bed.
"Spying's fun. Why d'you ask?"
"Well, Professor Snape can't spy anymore cause Sir Mouldywarts knows he's on our side. I hardly ever know what he's planning because I only see when he's particular mad, cursing someone, or thinking of me. We haven't a sliver of a clue of his real plans. You, being a ghost and all, can be invisible when you want-" Myrtle popped out of sight and back again to prove his point. "-and he can't hurt you. You don't need to sleep, either. You could easily keep track of what goes on in meetings, and you could nip back and report whenever you have the opportunity."
"Yes, you're right. Ghosts can make even better secret agents than James Bond!" Humming the theme music for the popular Muggle character, Myrtle darted about the room to mimic a duck-and-fire pattern. "I'll do it, Harry. Don't bother telling Professor Dumbledore, I will. Besides, you'll be late for Transfiguration if you do." He looked down at his father's pocketwatch and swore.
"Later, Myrtle!" he called as he fled the washroom. A ghostly giggle followed him down the corridor.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
~Harry, if you don't get your arse in here soon, McGonagall's going to stripe it!~ Draco tried to look calm as he sat by himself at the desk. His fingers beat a tattoo on his thigh.
{Almost there, mate. Rounding the last corner now.} True to form, fifteen seconds later the Golden Boy appeared, fingers latching onto the doorjamb to facilitate a sharp turn into the classroom. The dark boy had barely sat down when the bell rang.
~You cut that close. You spoke with Myrtle?~
{Aye. I left her doing James Bond impressions. She's sure kept up to date on popular Muggle culture.}
~James Who?~
{Never mind for now. Ooh, we're doing Animagi today!} The severe Head of House was magicking notes onto the chalkboards at the front of the room. Draco noticed a rack of phials on the professor's desk.
~Why would McGonagall need potions in here?~ he queried idly. His deskmate shook his head in mutual confusion.
"Today we will be testing you all for Animagus capabilities," the teacher announced a moment later. "Mind you, the potion will only show what you can become if you undertake the process later. Some of you may not have the discipline to do such. Others will be unable to become Animagi at all. Do not be disappointed if this is the case. The headmaster lacks this talent, and he is still a great wizard. Miss Bartleby," she called. The delicate Asian girl who shared Lavender's dormitory moved to the front and downed the liquid the professor offered. A faint yellow cloud formed next to her before flashing brown and dissipating.
"Sorry, Miss Bartleby, but brown means you don't have the ability. Miss Brown." Lav's cloud stayed yellow, and a large rabbit appeared inside, its fur the same honey colour as the pretty girl's curls.
"You may want to write down the description of that rabbit if you wish to become an Animagus later, Miss Brown. The same goes to any of you who do have the ability. Mr. Finnegan!"
Seamus turned out to be a squirrel. 'Mione, as the others in the Dream Team had suspected, was a brown barn owl. Becky Jones was another dud. Neville was, surprisingly, a very odd-looking animal Harry called a duck- billed platypus, which he said lived in Australia. Draco's turn came almost too soon.
After swallowing the liquid-foul stuff, it was-the blond watched the yellow cloud eagerly. A coiled snake materialized, its scales yellow and cream. Albino. The serpent uncoiled to at least ten feet long before the mist petered out.
Parvati Patil was bouncing when she passed Draco in the aisle. She looked like she expected an Animagus form. Draco smiled perversely when her cloud turned brown.
Harry's turn was next, and the former Slytherin could feel his friend's worry through their bond. It seemed, however, that the Boy Wonder needn't fear that he would be a housecat. A huge black panther, about the same size as a large tiger, stretched beside him in the yellow mist, its eyes a blazing jade green and a tiny zigzag of white fur marking its forehead. Just before it faded, the great cat stood on its haunches and opened its mouth in a silent snarl, towering well over Harry's five feet and nine inches.
~Cool,~ Draco commented.
{Just as cool as yours,} was the retort as Harry resumed his seat. {I swear that snake had eyes just like you.}
Dean Thomas was second to last. He looked almost happy when his mist turned brown, winking at Ron as they passed each other and flashing brilliantly white teeth in his dark face.
Ron shifted from foot to foot when he reached the front, nervously gulping the contents of his phial. From the yellow mist stalked a giant of a lion, his deep red mane tousled but flowing, with bright blue eyes sparkling in his tawny face. The lion turned and paced back into the mist, which then turned a blinding white.
~What in the name of Merlin is that?~ Draco asked, shielding his eyes with an arm.
{Why ask me,} his friend replied. {I know no more about this than you do.} Their thoughts were interrupted by a shrill cry. The light died until they could look at the tall redhead up front.
Ron's face looked as if he'd been walloped with a cricket bat. His left arm was raised to shadow his own eyes, but it now bore a thick dragonhide gauntlet that reached his elbow and another thick pad along his shoulder and upper arm. Perched on the level surface, its talons digging into the tough material, was the most striking bird any in the room had ever seen.
The viciously hooked beak, scaled legs, sharp talons, and piercing eyes of the raptor were a burnished silver. The predator's feathers were a blend of blacks and grays, save for a band on each wing and the tail. The bird mantled briefly, showing the stripes of electric blue running the length of each wing and forming a strip across every tail feather. Students and teacher alike gazed upon the bird in awe, and a mutter began among the pupils.
"He says his name is SkyStrike," Ron suddenly announced to the room. "SkyStrike Thunderhead." Draco blinked at the redhead, turned to meet Harry's gaze, blinked again, and then looked back at Ron. A third blink.
"Mr. Weasley, my office, please," McGonagall said after a moment. The rest of the Dream Team (save Ginny, of course, as she was not in the class) stood to follow. The professor glared for a moment but sighed and waved them after their friend.
"Do any of you know what that bird is?" she asked when she had closed the door. All five teens shook their heads. McGonagall sighed and sat behind her desk. "It is a berserker hawk. Few know of them because few have appeared in the last two hundred years or so. Each one is hatched to bond with someone with the Blood Rage, a state in which they will fight with superhuman strength and speed until either the fighting stops or they are killed. Blood Rage warriors, according to the history books, are always Animagi, usually a large predator. The first time they see their final form triggers the bonding and awakens the Blood Rage. The hawk somehow appears exactly when the form is seen, as you have seen today." The normally stalwart woman sighed again and massaged her temples. "Tell the others class is dismissed, and return to Gryffindor Tower. I need to inform the headmaster."
Draco, closest to the door, nodded and slipped out, followed by his friends. Seamus and Dean were gone seconds after they heard the word "dismissed," while the girls and Neville were a bit more civilized, packing their belongings and leaving quietly.
"We really need to find somewhere we can discuss things and be sure we're not overheard," the blond boy commented as they left the classroom. The words caused Harry to stop in his tracks.
"I know the perfect place," he said before starting off in the opposite direction from the Tower. At the looks he received from the others, Draco shrugged. Harry had good walls around his end of the bond most of the time, so the blond knew little more than the fact that the raven-haired boy was thinking furiously.
Several minutes later, the group was gathered outside Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. At Harry's knock, the ghostly girl's voice called them in.
"Nobody alive in here! Come in!" Indeed, Myrtle was by herself, reading in a corner. Draco raised an eyebrow at the title (Winnie the Pooh), but said nothing.
"We're headed down the rabbit hole, Myrtle. Keep an eye out for anyone else?" the green-eyed boy asked. The ghost nodded, and Harry bent to look at one of the faucets. Straightening, he hissed something in Parseltongue, and the washbasin moved to reveal a huge hole.
"You know," Harry thought aloud, "Salazar really could have made things easier on us all if he'd put in some stairs." With that cryptic remark, the ebon-haired young man swung his legs into the hole and slid out of sight, followed shortly by Ron and SkyStrike, the latter going into a stoop instead of sliding. Both 'Mione and Lav looked at the ex-Slytherin, who shrugged.
~Harry, what did you two do?~ he asked, bespeaking the other boy.
{We slid down the tunnel. Come on, we've cast cushioning charms on the landing zone. It's actually a fun trip when you're not about to save someone's life.} As Harry finished thinking at him, Draco heard the berserker hawk's shriek echo up through the rock.
"Harry says that it's a tunnel and there are cushioning charms at the end." Having relayed the relevant news, the blond sat on the edge and dangled his legs inside. "Give me a slow count of twenty before you come down." A small push sent him flying down the seemingly greased slope. As the Golden Boy had said, the ride was exhilarating, similar to the rush he got when he rode any broom, especially the faster models. The landing, however, was abrupt and ungraceful.
"Enjoy the trip, Dragon?" His lanky classmate was offering him a hand up. The floor felt like feet of goose down pillows. The hand was accepted, and moments later 'Mione was in his previous location.
"Wow. Harry, why didn't you ever show me this place?" The bushy-haired girl was oblivious to the grime and bones of a thousand years, content for the moment to gawk at the huge circular corridors.
"It's not as if I ever really had the chance, 'Mione. I've not been down here in two and a half years, not since I defeated Riddle's diary." Harry looked at the floor, but Draco frowned and considered the dark walls. "Lavisare wall." The proper flick of mahogany and dragon heartstring sent grey-green bubbles at the stone. Bursting on impact, each sphere left a ragged circle of sparkling granite behind. Sensing a challenge, Ron twirled his own willow withe before pointing in another direction. Down.
"Ferianos planus." In a wave of orange sparks radiating from the spot where the wand was closest to the floor, magic cleaned the rock, leaving it gleaming. Hermione bent to examine the polished stone, barely missing being beaned by Lav as the fair girl shot out of the tunnel.
"Oof!" It took Lav a moment to gain her feet, but her brain was obviously moving at several leagues a minute. "I heard you lot gabbing from the other end, so I decided it had to be safe. That's quite the landing. Glad you cast those cushioning charms."
"Look, the floor is green marble. The veins look like quartz, but I think I see some silver in them, too." 'Mione poked Draco's calf to get his attention, and he knelt to take a closer look at the stone.
"You're right. This stuff is rare, even in our world. Green marble in this quantity would be awfully hard to come by." Meanwhile, Ron was casting more cleaning charms, probably learned from Mrs. Weasley. Draco ran a hand over the glossy floor. Waxed and polished stone had a peculiar feel, and that texture was present, along with the magical resonance of fine marble. The once-haughty Malfoy heir gained another degree of respect for Molly Weasley.
Several minutes-and no few charms-later, the five students emerged from one of the round corridors into a vast and dim cavern. Harry, in the lead, raised his wand high to cast a spell.
"LUMOS SOLARIS!!" the young wizard bellowed, his voice cracking on the last syllable. Light streamed down from the heights as of the chamber's ceiling had been removed at noon on a sunny day. All five blinked and covered their eyes briefly.
"Nice one, mate. Turn it down a little, though." Ron's comment was echoed with a screech from his hawk. Which winged down and settled on the shoulder pad. Harry nodded and pointed at the light source before proceeding to twist his wand in his fingers. The indoor "sun" agreeably dimmed.
"Welcome to Salazar Slytherin's gloat room," the blond boy murmured. "The Founder must have been an egomaniac. Honestly, why carve your own image into the wall of a room only Parselmouths can open when they're so few and far between?" It seemed none of the others had an answer.
"My fingers are just itching to retool the place," Lav commented. "You know, make that awful head into a classical façade, with a balcony and some rooms inside, turn those ghastly snakes into trees, add some colour. Basic redecorating." Draco took a moment to visualize the effect.
"A Champs Elysées style, perhaps?" The honey-haired girl nodded. "I can see that. Lovely look. I wonder if Dumbledore could be convinced to tell us how to do a spell like the one on the ceiling of the Great Hall." Draco rather thought Parisian avenues were beautiful. Without the Muggle autos, of course.
"That would certainly make a difference," 'Mione said, her alto echoing in the relatively empty cavern. A mound of foul-smelling muck lay between the last pair of serpents and the head. The late basilisk, perhaps.
"Sounds like a grand idea to me, eh, Ron?" Harry cracked his knuckles and sent his holly wand spinning through the fingers of his right hand. "What kind of trees shall line Rue la Chambre?"
Draco sighed and rolled his eyes. How he wished Uncle Sev had not taught Harry those small tricks of sleight of hand. The other boy had learned too well. Besides, his French accent was atrocious.
Since Halloween is approaching and something always happens to Harry on Halloween, what will it be this year? Has anyone on the Dream Team figured out the prophecy yet? Find out next time!
By the way, yes, I did invent Miss Bartleby and Becky Jones. Feel free to use them.
Beth Weasley
Bonds of Pain
Chapter Eighteen
In which there are potions, a bird, and a Chamber
Severus was in Lecture Mode. The Monday morning class of fifth-year Slytherins and Gryffindors should have been taking notes on the Frateris potion, but the Dream Team was the only group in the classroom with their quills moving. Granger, Brown, and Potter had fountain pens instead of quills, of course, as it was easier for them, but it was better than them getting ink all over their fingers and using a quill.
"When used with the proper incantation, this draught will form a bond between the drinkers. The strength of the bond depends on the nature of the relationship beforehand. Enemies tend to hate each other more. Casual acquaintances and friends by association face little to no change at all. Good friends become closer, more towards best friends. Best friends will become like siblings, some even sharing telepathic bonds from the potion. Lovers either become nearly inseparable with a telepathic link, or they are driven apart by doubts and lies. Soulmates share the most dramatic change. They have been reported to be able to pinpoint each other around the globe, share telepathy, sometimes even telekinesis and wandless magic, and there is nothing that can come between them afterwards." Uh oh. The Dream Team was exchanging glances Severus recognized from his time as the target of the Marauders. They wanted to make the draught and try it themselves. Well, at least the only desk covered in inkblots would be Longbottom's.
"None of you will be attempting this potion." A sharp glance at his godson, sitting between Potter and Brown. "Many of the ingredients are extremely rare and require permits to acquire them. Some are not even in my private stores." That was a blatant lie, but the lean man was good at lying. Albus had supplied him with enough of the ingredients to make sixty doses, but he had refused to allow the students to make such a dangerous formula. In exchange for this concession, he was to have fifteen doses ready to be used at any time. "The recipe is on page 421. Study this, as the Frateris draught is on the list of possible OWL testing materials." Severus sat down and opened a slender book on his desk. Quill in hand, he began to translate the Atlantean runes so he could eventually study the potion formulae later.
The remainder of the period passed quietly, the students doing their level best to memorize and Severus struggling through the multitude of runes. It seemed the author of the ancient grimoire had used a different rune for every element of the potions. The text alone was nearly as elaborate as the Japanese kanji, and the ingredients were worse than ancient Chinese.
When the bell rang, Severus gently closed the old book and put away his materials before looking up. It was time for lunch, after all, and he expected all the students to head straight for the Great Hall. Instead, he was faced with five Gryffindors at his desk, including his favourite.
"Can I do something for you, Draco?"
"Well." The blond boy looked around before leaning in towards him. "We wanted to ask if you'd any news from the front. It's been too quiet lately, especially since Sunday, and Harry keeps getting the nagging feeling that something big is going on. We're part of this, no matter how little you like it, and we may be part of the solution. If that is so, we need to be kept informed so we can accomplish our goals with a minimum of hurt for those who should stay out of this." His godson's silvery stare bore into him, and he could feel four more, though he never looked away: an emerald gaze from Potter, calm but determined to get his way; sapphire from the Weasley boy, ready to pound the life out of him and damn the consequences; peridot from Granger, curious and ready to devour anything he let slip; and finally, tanzanite from Brown, simply watching. He had often wondered how her eyes had acquired such an odd hue for a Muggle-born, as strange and brilliant eyes usually showed up in ancient families.
"I will speak with the headmaster about this when the lot of you are at lunch," he replied, rubbing his right temple. He hadn't noticed the headache during his translating, but now it hit with full force. His pain- muddled brain only barely registered Draco shooing the other Gryffindors from the room before he reached into his desk to pull a packet of Muggle headache powder from a drawstring bag and took it, washing the bitter, chalky substance down with a glass of water.
When the pain in his head subsided, he noticed another pain in his arm. His left arm. The sleeve was quickly rolled up, and the skull and snake in his flesh glowed a sickly green laced with black. Severus cursed and flung Floo Powder into the fireplace with his good hand. As he stepped into the flames, a breathy, panicked shout of "Dumbledore's office!" echoed through the silent dungeons.
Moments later, the lanky man stepped into the headmaster's office and nearly ran over a surprised youngest Weasley.
"Professor! Is something wrong? Wait, your arm." The red-headed girl reached for his left arm. He looked down in panic-had he left the sleeve up?-but his robes covered halfway down the back of his hand, the incriminating mark safely concealed.
"It is nothing, Miss Weasley. I must speak to the headmaster, alone." Severus' chill tone did nothing to stop the child. A quick look at her eyes told him that, from her dazed expression, she was acting on pure, undiluted instinct. A surprisingly strong grip caught his arm just above and below the cursed tattoo. "Albus!" The normally unflappable Potions Master was now in complete panic mode.
He made a-Merlin forbid-whimpering noise when his mentor entered the room. The bearded man took one look at the situation before shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose.
No amount of shaking was releasing Severus from the Weasley girl's grip, and she was standing as still as if she were a part of the castle stonework. The lean man gave up and glared at the child, but the look softened into sheer surprise when he realized the pain from the Dark Mark was dulled and rapidly ebbing.
"Albus, what in nine hells is she doing to me?" Dark eyes focussed on the headmaster again. The older man sighed and sat in his chair.
"During her Herbology class, one of Virginia's classmates was injured by wild razor grass. Mr. Holly's let was cut nearly to the bone, and Miss Weasley made a valiant effort to slow the bleeding manually. She had one hand on either side of the wound when she says some instinct pushed magic through her hands and into the wound. Mr. Holly was walking five minutes later when Poppy arrived."
Dear gods, not another special ability in the Dream Team. Draco's mind- bond with Potter was enough, and now Brown is a Seer. Then what his mentor was saying hit him.
"If she fed magic into the wound and then he was walking when Poppy arrived, she must have healed him." When Albus nodded, Severus hitched up his left sleeve and stared at the delicate and pale skin of his forearm. The evil symbol still lurked there, but it was a mere ghost, even fainter than it had been for years after that fateful Halloween nearly fourteen years earlier. A timid touch on his elbow caused him to turn around, his wondering gaze met by childlike chocolate-coloured eyes and red hair.
"You did want it gone, didn't you, Professor?" Severus nodded before he noticed the tremendously pale hue of Miss Weasley's skin. He barely managed to catch the falling girl in time to save her from cracking her head open on the flagstones. She had used so much energy that it very nearly caused malfunctions in her own body. Fortunate that she merely collapsed in a dead faint.
"Gods. There are people who are going to want to simply use her until she dies from drainage. There hasn't been a true Healer since I was in school, and she died in my third year." The woman had been in her eighties when she had healed a very battered Hufflepuff chaser who had fallen from his broom after a broadside from a Bludger. The boy was completely healthy afterwards, but Madam Aglen had used too much of her magic and died within a day. Pomfrey had been the woman's apprentice and therefore took over the ward at that point.
"Yes. I do miss Cassandra Aglen. Wonderful woman." There had been rumours that Albus fancied his mediwitch, as Severus recalled. Two seemingly random bits of information in his head suddenly connected, and the lean man looked up at his mentor.
"She must be the Healer in Miss Brown's rhyme." The old wizard nodded in return.
"True, I had that notion as well. I doubt there is much coincidence in the fact that the words were spoken yesterday and this shows itself today. Perhaps the talent was waiting for a trigger." Severus' eyes narrowed to glare at the oblivious Gryffindor, but Albus interrupted. "I believe this was as much of a surprise to her as it is to us. Tell me, did you get any sense of whether Miss Brown had prophesised before?" One of the things that made the Potions Master excel in his field was his feel for magic and the way it reacted to various stimuli.
"She had, many times," he admitted. If she had been able to feel a prophecy on its way and told her friends to write it down, there was no way it had been the first to leave her lips. The dour man cast a considering look at the teen he still supported before setting her in a chair. "Now that I think about it and probe the Healing magic, she's only used that twice." Once to heal Holly, the second. He tenderly touched the faint brand and then poked harder when it didn't even twinge. A wry chuckle from the wizened wizard caused a sheepish smile.
"So she has nearly put that to rights?"
"Mmm. It doesn't hurt at all, sir."
"Now, Severus, you know not to 'sir' me." The old argument stirring again, the pair of men waited for Virginia Weasley to wake.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Myrtle?" Harry tapped on the door of the second-floor girls' loo. "Can I come in? It's Harry." He waited for a moment before nearly jumping out of his skin when the teenage ghost's head came through the wood in front of him.
"Harry! You've come to see me!" Myrtle actually looked happy, her face going from mope to radiant grin in a heartbeat.
"Yeah," the raven-haired boy replied. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you for a bit." If anything, the ghost-girl's smile got wider.
"Of course. Come in. None of the girls ever use my toilet, you know that." Myrtle withdrew from the door, and Harry pushed it open so he could slip through. A pair of quick charms locked the door and silenced the openings.
"Myrtle, do you know who killed you?" The words seemed so callous to the green-eyed boy that he winced. Myrtle was unfazed.
"Nope. Just remember those eyes. Do you know? I'd gladly haunt them if they were still alive."
"Well, you might be surprised by the answer. Do you remember Tom Riddle? He was a prefect in Slytherin that year, Head Boy the next." It was hard for him not to fidget, and he sat down between two of the sinks.
"Tom? Of course I remember the git. He was so snooty to us Muggle-borns, but everyone knew he was half and half. He was such a prick. Don't know how he got to be Head Boy." Harry had to suppress a grin.
"I see. He's been such a hypocrite. I wonder what would happen if his followers found out about that."
"What followers? Nobody's heard of Tom Riddle in decades. I didn't know you'd heard of him." Poor Myrtle looked so confused. He just had to let the cat out of the bag.
"Anyone who knows anything in our world has heard of him. They just don't know his name's actually Tom Riddle. He prefers the name Voldemort." The spectre's indignant squawk nearly took his head off.
"WHAT?!? You mean to tell me that Mr. 'I'm so much better than you because I'm in Slytherin' Riddle is the Dark Lord?!"
"Aye," the ebon-haired boy replied. "And he was the one behind the Chamber of Secrets attacks both times. He killed you, and he tried to use Ginny to give his sixteen-year-old self a new body. That was why she tried to flush that diary. It had part of him in it, and he possessed her. She fought."
"Oh." The ghostly girl nodded, absently chewing on her finger. "You know, I rather like the idea of tormenting Voldemort for the rest of his days. That might hamper his schemes for world domination a wee bit." Myrtle's smirk made her companion shiver.
"Remind me never to get on your bad side." Harry shuddered again, causing the ghost to giggle. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to commit a little espionage on the side, would you?" The pale form next to him floated on her stomach, heels waving and chin cupped in one hand as if she lay on an invisible bed.
"Spying's fun. Why d'you ask?"
"Well, Professor Snape can't spy anymore cause Sir Mouldywarts knows he's on our side. I hardly ever know what he's planning because I only see when he's particular mad, cursing someone, or thinking of me. We haven't a sliver of a clue of his real plans. You, being a ghost and all, can be invisible when you want-" Myrtle popped out of sight and back again to prove his point. "-and he can't hurt you. You don't need to sleep, either. You could easily keep track of what goes on in meetings, and you could nip back and report whenever you have the opportunity."
"Yes, you're right. Ghosts can make even better secret agents than James Bond!" Humming the theme music for the popular Muggle character, Myrtle darted about the room to mimic a duck-and-fire pattern. "I'll do it, Harry. Don't bother telling Professor Dumbledore, I will. Besides, you'll be late for Transfiguration if you do." He looked down at his father's pocketwatch and swore.
"Later, Myrtle!" he called as he fled the washroom. A ghostly giggle followed him down the corridor.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
~Harry, if you don't get your arse in here soon, McGonagall's going to stripe it!~ Draco tried to look calm as he sat by himself at the desk. His fingers beat a tattoo on his thigh.
{Almost there, mate. Rounding the last corner now.} True to form, fifteen seconds later the Golden Boy appeared, fingers latching onto the doorjamb to facilitate a sharp turn into the classroom. The dark boy had barely sat down when the bell rang.
~You cut that close. You spoke with Myrtle?~
{Aye. I left her doing James Bond impressions. She's sure kept up to date on popular Muggle culture.}
~James Who?~
{Never mind for now. Ooh, we're doing Animagi today!} The severe Head of House was magicking notes onto the chalkboards at the front of the room. Draco noticed a rack of phials on the professor's desk.
~Why would McGonagall need potions in here?~ he queried idly. His deskmate shook his head in mutual confusion.
"Today we will be testing you all for Animagus capabilities," the teacher announced a moment later. "Mind you, the potion will only show what you can become if you undertake the process later. Some of you may not have the discipline to do such. Others will be unable to become Animagi at all. Do not be disappointed if this is the case. The headmaster lacks this talent, and he is still a great wizard. Miss Bartleby," she called. The delicate Asian girl who shared Lavender's dormitory moved to the front and downed the liquid the professor offered. A faint yellow cloud formed next to her before flashing brown and dissipating.
"Sorry, Miss Bartleby, but brown means you don't have the ability. Miss Brown." Lav's cloud stayed yellow, and a large rabbit appeared inside, its fur the same honey colour as the pretty girl's curls.
"You may want to write down the description of that rabbit if you wish to become an Animagus later, Miss Brown. The same goes to any of you who do have the ability. Mr. Finnegan!"
Seamus turned out to be a squirrel. 'Mione, as the others in the Dream Team had suspected, was a brown barn owl. Becky Jones was another dud. Neville was, surprisingly, a very odd-looking animal Harry called a duck- billed platypus, which he said lived in Australia. Draco's turn came almost too soon.
After swallowing the liquid-foul stuff, it was-the blond watched the yellow cloud eagerly. A coiled snake materialized, its scales yellow and cream. Albino. The serpent uncoiled to at least ten feet long before the mist petered out.
Parvati Patil was bouncing when she passed Draco in the aisle. She looked like she expected an Animagus form. Draco smiled perversely when her cloud turned brown.
Harry's turn was next, and the former Slytherin could feel his friend's worry through their bond. It seemed, however, that the Boy Wonder needn't fear that he would be a housecat. A huge black panther, about the same size as a large tiger, stretched beside him in the yellow mist, its eyes a blazing jade green and a tiny zigzag of white fur marking its forehead. Just before it faded, the great cat stood on its haunches and opened its mouth in a silent snarl, towering well over Harry's five feet and nine inches.
~Cool,~ Draco commented.
{Just as cool as yours,} was the retort as Harry resumed his seat. {I swear that snake had eyes just like you.}
Dean Thomas was second to last. He looked almost happy when his mist turned brown, winking at Ron as they passed each other and flashing brilliantly white teeth in his dark face.
Ron shifted from foot to foot when he reached the front, nervously gulping the contents of his phial. From the yellow mist stalked a giant of a lion, his deep red mane tousled but flowing, with bright blue eyes sparkling in his tawny face. The lion turned and paced back into the mist, which then turned a blinding white.
~What in the name of Merlin is that?~ Draco asked, shielding his eyes with an arm.
{Why ask me,} his friend replied. {I know no more about this than you do.} Their thoughts were interrupted by a shrill cry. The light died until they could look at the tall redhead up front.
Ron's face looked as if he'd been walloped with a cricket bat. His left arm was raised to shadow his own eyes, but it now bore a thick dragonhide gauntlet that reached his elbow and another thick pad along his shoulder and upper arm. Perched on the level surface, its talons digging into the tough material, was the most striking bird any in the room had ever seen.
The viciously hooked beak, scaled legs, sharp talons, and piercing eyes of the raptor were a burnished silver. The predator's feathers were a blend of blacks and grays, save for a band on each wing and the tail. The bird mantled briefly, showing the stripes of electric blue running the length of each wing and forming a strip across every tail feather. Students and teacher alike gazed upon the bird in awe, and a mutter began among the pupils.
"He says his name is SkyStrike," Ron suddenly announced to the room. "SkyStrike Thunderhead." Draco blinked at the redhead, turned to meet Harry's gaze, blinked again, and then looked back at Ron. A third blink.
"Mr. Weasley, my office, please," McGonagall said after a moment. The rest of the Dream Team (save Ginny, of course, as she was not in the class) stood to follow. The professor glared for a moment but sighed and waved them after their friend.
"Do any of you know what that bird is?" she asked when she had closed the door. All five teens shook their heads. McGonagall sighed and sat behind her desk. "It is a berserker hawk. Few know of them because few have appeared in the last two hundred years or so. Each one is hatched to bond with someone with the Blood Rage, a state in which they will fight with superhuman strength and speed until either the fighting stops or they are killed. Blood Rage warriors, according to the history books, are always Animagi, usually a large predator. The first time they see their final form triggers the bonding and awakens the Blood Rage. The hawk somehow appears exactly when the form is seen, as you have seen today." The normally stalwart woman sighed again and massaged her temples. "Tell the others class is dismissed, and return to Gryffindor Tower. I need to inform the headmaster."
Draco, closest to the door, nodded and slipped out, followed by his friends. Seamus and Dean were gone seconds after they heard the word "dismissed," while the girls and Neville were a bit more civilized, packing their belongings and leaving quietly.
"We really need to find somewhere we can discuss things and be sure we're not overheard," the blond boy commented as they left the classroom. The words caused Harry to stop in his tracks.
"I know the perfect place," he said before starting off in the opposite direction from the Tower. At the looks he received from the others, Draco shrugged. Harry had good walls around his end of the bond most of the time, so the blond knew little more than the fact that the raven-haired boy was thinking furiously.
Several minutes later, the group was gathered outside Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. At Harry's knock, the ghostly girl's voice called them in.
"Nobody alive in here! Come in!" Indeed, Myrtle was by herself, reading in a corner. Draco raised an eyebrow at the title (Winnie the Pooh), but said nothing.
"We're headed down the rabbit hole, Myrtle. Keep an eye out for anyone else?" the green-eyed boy asked. The ghost nodded, and Harry bent to look at one of the faucets. Straightening, he hissed something in Parseltongue, and the washbasin moved to reveal a huge hole.
"You know," Harry thought aloud, "Salazar really could have made things easier on us all if he'd put in some stairs." With that cryptic remark, the ebon-haired young man swung his legs into the hole and slid out of sight, followed shortly by Ron and SkyStrike, the latter going into a stoop instead of sliding. Both 'Mione and Lav looked at the ex-Slytherin, who shrugged.
~Harry, what did you two do?~ he asked, bespeaking the other boy.
{We slid down the tunnel. Come on, we've cast cushioning charms on the landing zone. It's actually a fun trip when you're not about to save someone's life.} As Harry finished thinking at him, Draco heard the berserker hawk's shriek echo up through the rock.
"Harry says that it's a tunnel and there are cushioning charms at the end." Having relayed the relevant news, the blond sat on the edge and dangled his legs inside. "Give me a slow count of twenty before you come down." A small push sent him flying down the seemingly greased slope. As the Golden Boy had said, the ride was exhilarating, similar to the rush he got when he rode any broom, especially the faster models. The landing, however, was abrupt and ungraceful.
"Enjoy the trip, Dragon?" His lanky classmate was offering him a hand up. The floor felt like feet of goose down pillows. The hand was accepted, and moments later 'Mione was in his previous location.
"Wow. Harry, why didn't you ever show me this place?" The bushy-haired girl was oblivious to the grime and bones of a thousand years, content for the moment to gawk at the huge circular corridors.
"It's not as if I ever really had the chance, 'Mione. I've not been down here in two and a half years, not since I defeated Riddle's diary." Harry looked at the floor, but Draco frowned and considered the dark walls. "Lavisare wall." The proper flick of mahogany and dragon heartstring sent grey-green bubbles at the stone. Bursting on impact, each sphere left a ragged circle of sparkling granite behind. Sensing a challenge, Ron twirled his own willow withe before pointing in another direction. Down.
"Ferianos planus." In a wave of orange sparks radiating from the spot where the wand was closest to the floor, magic cleaned the rock, leaving it gleaming. Hermione bent to examine the polished stone, barely missing being beaned by Lav as the fair girl shot out of the tunnel.
"Oof!" It took Lav a moment to gain her feet, but her brain was obviously moving at several leagues a minute. "I heard you lot gabbing from the other end, so I decided it had to be safe. That's quite the landing. Glad you cast those cushioning charms."
"Look, the floor is green marble. The veins look like quartz, but I think I see some silver in them, too." 'Mione poked Draco's calf to get his attention, and he knelt to take a closer look at the stone.
"You're right. This stuff is rare, even in our world. Green marble in this quantity would be awfully hard to come by." Meanwhile, Ron was casting more cleaning charms, probably learned from Mrs. Weasley. Draco ran a hand over the glossy floor. Waxed and polished stone had a peculiar feel, and that texture was present, along with the magical resonance of fine marble. The once-haughty Malfoy heir gained another degree of respect for Molly Weasley.
Several minutes-and no few charms-later, the five students emerged from one of the round corridors into a vast and dim cavern. Harry, in the lead, raised his wand high to cast a spell.
"LUMOS SOLARIS!!" the young wizard bellowed, his voice cracking on the last syllable. Light streamed down from the heights as of the chamber's ceiling had been removed at noon on a sunny day. All five blinked and covered their eyes briefly.
"Nice one, mate. Turn it down a little, though." Ron's comment was echoed with a screech from his hawk. Which winged down and settled on the shoulder pad. Harry nodded and pointed at the light source before proceeding to twist his wand in his fingers. The indoor "sun" agreeably dimmed.
"Welcome to Salazar Slytherin's gloat room," the blond boy murmured. "The Founder must have been an egomaniac. Honestly, why carve your own image into the wall of a room only Parselmouths can open when they're so few and far between?" It seemed none of the others had an answer.
"My fingers are just itching to retool the place," Lav commented. "You know, make that awful head into a classical façade, with a balcony and some rooms inside, turn those ghastly snakes into trees, add some colour. Basic redecorating." Draco took a moment to visualize the effect.
"A Champs Elysées style, perhaps?" The honey-haired girl nodded. "I can see that. Lovely look. I wonder if Dumbledore could be convinced to tell us how to do a spell like the one on the ceiling of the Great Hall." Draco rather thought Parisian avenues were beautiful. Without the Muggle autos, of course.
"That would certainly make a difference," 'Mione said, her alto echoing in the relatively empty cavern. A mound of foul-smelling muck lay between the last pair of serpents and the head. The late basilisk, perhaps.
"Sounds like a grand idea to me, eh, Ron?" Harry cracked his knuckles and sent his holly wand spinning through the fingers of his right hand. "What kind of trees shall line Rue la Chambre?"
Draco sighed and rolled his eyes. How he wished Uncle Sev had not taught Harry those small tricks of sleight of hand. The other boy had learned too well. Besides, his French accent was atrocious.
Since Halloween is approaching and something always happens to Harry on Halloween, what will it be this year? Has anyone on the Dream Team figured out the prophecy yet? Find out next time!
By the way, yes, I did invent Miss Bartleby and Becky Jones. Feel free to use them.
Beth Weasley