Chapter 22: Chasing Leads

PRESENT: LATE JANUARY

It was nearly February before the trio had exhausted all of their research and formulated all of their theories, but no matter how they worked at it, nothing seemed quite to fit. That there was a connection (or several connections) was self-evident; the nature of that connection, however, eluded them.

Harry finally settled on a course of action, born more out of desperation than out of airtight logic. "We could just ask Ebony," he suggested as he, Ron, and Hermione walked to Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Hermione stopped at stared at him. "Ask her?" she repeated incredulously.

"You don't honestly think she'd tell us, do you?" Ron added.

Harry shrugged and set his jaw. "It's the best chance we've got at learning anything," he said firmly.

They waited until everyone else had left for Double Potions, then nervously, but resolutely, went up to the front of the room. Ebony looked up mildly at their approach, then waited until Harry spoke before making any further reaction.

"Er, Professor . . ." he began awkwardly.

She looked a little expectant. "Yes?"

"Um . . ." He looked to Ron, who merely shrugged, then to Hermione.

Hermione leaned bravely forward. "Do you mind if we ask a question or two about your seizures?"

Ebony's eyebrows disappeared at her hairline. "My, we are Gryffindors, aren't we?" she murmured. One corner of her mouth turned up in a way that reminded Harry eerily of Snape. "All right," she said after a moment. "You may ask, but I can't promise that I'll answer your questions—I will most certainly not answer any of them to your satisfaction."

Hermione glanced at the others, then took a deep breath and asked, "How long have you been having them?"

Ebony looked amused. "I had my first seizure when I was ten," she replied coolly. "I stopped having them for awhile . . . sometime while I was a student at Hogwarts. The doctor thought I'd outgrown my epilepsy." She shrugged. "Apparently, he was wrong. I started having them again about a year and a half ago."

"But it's not epilepsy, is it?" Hermione pressed. "Your symptoms are all wrong, and they correlate with times when Harry's scar burns."

"I will allow that Muggle medicine has its limitations," Ebony conceded. "As for Harry's scar often burning at the same time . . . to that I cannot speak."

"Do Professor Snape and Zarekael have anything to do with the seizures?" Harry asked quietly.

Ebony frowned, nonplused. "Why would either of them have anything to do with it?" she countered, confusion thick in her voice.

"It's just that when you've had a seizure," Harry explained, "one or both of them have been nearby."

Ebony stared at him, her eyes wide. "Oh, no, Harry," she breathed. "No, indeed. They have been nearby for the seizures you've seen or heard about, but that was more coincidence than anything else. Professor Snape and Zarekael know about my condition, but it's beyond their ability to do much more than stay with me as friends. My condition is incurable, but they help as they can."

Harry swallowed. "Do you know what causes your . . . condition?"

"Yes," she replied darkly. "It's rather impossible for me not to know." She met each set of eyes before continuing. "But those who don't have to know should have no desire to know. Good parents will not make their children carry heavier bundles than they can bear; good teachers should do no less for their students. In this particular case, it's better to leave the mystery unsolved, and indeed, you cannot help but leave it so. The only others you could ask about it are Professor Snape and Zarekael, and"—she smirked—"I somehow doubt that you'll be eager to do that."

She evidently thought that the conversation was at an end, but the trio merely fell back and regrouped. Harry spoke first this time. "You were a Skulker, weren't you?" he asked.

Ebony favored him with a reptilian smile. "I believe you've known that for awhile," she replied. "Ever since a certain late-night expedition."

"Er, yes." He took a deep breath, but before he could continue, Ron jumped in with a similar question to the one Harry had planned, but with a phrasing that proved to be pure genius.

"Whatever happened to Dirk Pierce and . . ." He frowned. "The other one, I forget his name?"

At the mention of Pierce's name, Ebony's eyes widened and her lips whitened in a reflexive anger that, thankfully, was not directed at her questioner. She seemed to miss the second part of the inquiry entirely, though she soon had her countenance under control.

"Dirk Pierce had a . . . falling out . . . with the rest of us," she answered calmly..

Rather an understatement, given that he killed one of the rest of you, Harry thought.

As taken off-guard as she had been by Ron's question, Ebony was still fully in command of her faculties. She glanced over the trio's heads to look at the clock, then returned her gaze to them. "Were you hoping to make it to Double Potions on time?" she asked, almost innocently.

Hermione looked at her watch, then at the others. "We'd better go," she said.

Left with little choice in the matter, Harry and Ron followed her out of the room.

But they hadn't quite exhausted all of their resources, after all, as it turned out. Halfway through their mad dash to Potions, Ron abruptly stopped, slapping a hand to his forehead. "Fred and George!" he exclaimed.

Hermione frowned. "What about them?"

"Don't you remember? They told us as first years to stay away from Zarekael, and they acted like they'd had a nasty run-in with him."

"You think they might be able to tell us something?" Harry asked skeptically as they started jogging again.

"Well, more than the yearbooks or Ebony, at any rate," Ron grumbled.

Harry nodded. "We can ask Hagrid, too," he said. "When I first ran into Zarekael on Diagon Alley, Hagrid told me to stay away from him, too; I'll bet he knows something." He shrugged. "He might even know something about the Skulkers, too—and Phamelia Marvolo."

"Yeah, but will he tell us?" Ron countered in a low voice as they entered the Potions room. "Remember how it was trying to pump him about the Philosopher's Stone?"

"But he'd never warned me to stay away from Snape," Harry whispered back, glancing furtively at Zarekael. They were, after all, talking about him and his father.

"Well, let's see what Fred and George have to say first," Ron suggested.

"Probably not much," Hermione warned. "They're remarkably silent about why they're scared of him."

They ran into a bit of a delay after Double Potions, though. Somehow all three of them managed to ruin their potions, all in different ways, all spectacularly, and they were asked to remain after to explain themselves to the instructor. Only Hermione noticed right off that this was the first day Neville had not ruined his potion—a piece which was soon fitted with others to show that a fifth party, not a student, was responsible for the state of all four potions in question.

Once the other students had all departed, the threesome gathered their bags and stood up to face Zarekael. The Potions apprentice regarded them coolly, then crossed his arms and met the eye of each one in turn. When he was assured of their full attention, he moved his left hand, and the classroom door closed, that sound followed shortly thereafter by a silencing charm.

Harry swallowed. Something other than potions snafus was about to be discussed—either that, or Zarekael was going to do something very unpleasant and didn't want anyone else to know about it.

After the silencing spell took effect, Zarekael paused a moment, then at last addressed them. "There are certain subjects that are best not pursued," he said softly. "And there are certain names that are best never dropped. Let me remind you that you are at Hogwarts, where every stone, every painting, every suit of armor, has ears—and the mouths accompanying those ears are not always to be trusted."

Hermione's expression had closed, but Ron and Harry looked defiantly back at him. Seeing this, Zarekael sighed, and with that expulsion of air, he seemed to shed his youth. His face was as unlined as ever . . . but he looked suddenly like a very weary old man, weighed down by many heavy years. "I know you won't listen to me anyway," he said resignedly. "But please, for more sakes than your own, have a care."

He made a small movement with his hand again, and the door opened, effectively dismissing them.

Hermione was right about one thing; they could get very little out of the twins. Zarekael had caught them doing something after hours, and he had reacted unkindly; more than that Fred and George would not say, except to repeat their earlier injunctions to leave him alone. When Ron told them about his, Harry's, and Hermione's suspicions about the Potions apprentice, however, the twins looked stunned.

"You're crazy," Fred declared. "Zarekael's got a nasty sense of humor when he's getting back at someone, but he's a decent sort."

"Besides," George put in, "he and Ebony are pals. Why would he put her through something like that—even if he's the type, which he's not."

"That's what we're trying to figure out," Ron said ruefully.

"Well, I don't know why you'd expect us to know anything," Fred told him acidly. "You'd have better luck trying to outthink the Skulkers."

"Not that we haven't tried," George confided. "But somehow we seem to keep getting caught."

"I think we need to plan better," Fred said thoughtfully.

They left the twins to think about planning, no better off than they had been in terms of a connection. Even Ron was beginning to suspect that Ebony had been right; maybe they were barking up the wrong tree after all.

"Do you still want to talk to Hagrid?" Hermione asked.

Harry shook his head. "We'll go and see him," he replied, "but I really don't think he'd have anything to say that we haven't already heard."

To their surprise, Hagrid did have new information, though it had nothing to do with Zarekael. Somehow or other the subject of strange health conditions came up in the conversation, and though Harry, Ron, and Hermione kept studiously to the subject of animal ailments, Hagrid himself brought up Ebony.

"Now, you talk about strange problems," he said. "I remember the firs' time Meli Ebony had one o' her seizures. She was a little 'un, I'll tell you; never thought such a small thing could scream s' loud." He shook his head sympathetically. "Usually came on at night, so I heard, and rattled 'er so bad she'd miss class for a day or two. Stopped sometime her third year, though, an' she went her last five years 'ere without another 'un."

"Her last five years?" Hermione echoed, her expression suddenly intent.

Hagrid nodded. "Don' know when they started up again, but it was after she left Hogwarts."

The teakettle whistled then, and when Hagrid returned with the tea, Hermione changed the subject.

"Ebony was a Skulker, wasn't she?" she asked casually.

Hagrid nodded again, grinning. "That she was," he confirmed. "Bes' pranksters ever, though Fred and George are pretty good, too," he added hastily, with a glance at Ron. He shook his head. "Pity what happened to Crim, though—her an' Meli were the nicest o' the bunch."

"Crimson Fell?" Harry hedged.

"Yeh. Crim was prob'ly the only Slytherin nobody thought'd go bad." Hagrid sighed.

Hermione traded looks with the others, then, with a small shrug, decided to sally forth. "Did Crimson Fell have any friends besides the Skulkers while she was here?" she inquired.

Hagrid frowned thoughtfully. "Not really," he replied. "Mos' o' the Slytherins were afraid o' her, an' no one else trusted her not to truss 'em up." He suddenly started chuckling. "Don' think I'll ever forget what they did to old Flint," he chortled, laughing so hard that after a moment tears came to his eyes. "Poor Professor McGonagall near swallowed her teeth when she found 'im!"

Remembering the picture that had immortalized Anthony Flint, the threesome grinned along with him.

Once Hagrid had calmed down somewhat, Harry cleared his throat. "Was there another student here about that time?" he asked. "I don't know what House she'd be in, but her name was Phamelia Marvolo?"

"We think she might've been a friend of Crimson Fell's," Ron added.

Hagrid's brow furrowed, but he shook his head. "Only Marvolo I ever knew was Tom Riddle," he said darkly. "I'd remember if I met another 'un. And Crim's only friends as I know of were Sharpie and Meli—and her brother Collum, o' course."

On the way back to Gryffindor Tower, Hermione pulled Harry and Ron close enough to her that she could speak without being overheard.

"Ebony's seizures stopped when she was thirteen," Hermione said in a low voice. "She's twelve years older than us. And what happened when we were a year old?"

Ron drew a blank, but Harry inhaled sharply. "That's when Voldemort tried to kill me," he whispered. "You're saying that when Voldemort went away, so did Ebony's seizures."

"Snape and Zarekael don't have anything to do with it," Hermione concluded. "But since Snape taught here while Ebony was still having seizures before, he'd have noticed when they stopped, and I bet he put the pieces together. That's why Snape and Zarekael were so near at hand on Halloween, and that's why at least one of them turns up for the others."

"They're keeping an eye out for her," Harry said. "Just like she told us. And they have an idea when they might come on because they're Death Eaters."

"But what if Snape and Zarekael are carrying out You-Know-Who's orders?" Ron pointed out. "Maybe the seizures went away because You-Know-Who wasn't ordering Snape to do it anymore."

Hermione shook her head. "It doesn't make complete sense, though," she replied. "If Snape was the one doing it—or Zarekael, for that matter—Harry's scar wouldn't be hurting. I think it's a link between her and You-Know-Who."

"So what's the connection between Ebony and You-Know-Who, then?" Ron asked.

"Dunno," Hermione sighed.

"It's got to have something to do with when he's angry or hurting someone," Harry told them. "Every time she's had a seizure that we know about, my scar's burned, and Dumbledore says my scar burns when Voldemort's worked up."

"So maybe it's her version of a scar," Ron suggested.

Harry shuddered. "Then it looks like I got the better end of the deal."

"Well, it can't be exactly the same," Hermione said. "If it was, You-Know-Who would have been defeated twice in a similar way, and we know that didn't happen."

They were silent for a few minutes, then Ron cleared his throat uncertainly. "Do you suppose it's some sort of punishment?" he asked hesitantly.

"Punishment for what?" Hermione countered.

Ron looked pained. "For running away or disloyalty or something," he replied. "Maybe . . . maybe she's a . . . a runaway Death Eater." He gulped and regarded the others with wide eyes.

"She's too young, Ron," Hermione pointed out. "She was thirteen when the seizures stopped."

"Still," he said, pulling at his collar as if it choked him. "It's not a happy thought that she's on the run from You-Know-Who. And I'm starting to wonder if she isn't Phamelia Marvolo. If she's on the run, it'd explain why she changed her name."

"But if she's Phamelia Marvolo, that means she could be related—" Hermione broke off, swallowing hard. "This really doesn't look good."

Harry wished that he could think of something reassuring to say to that, but he didn't have enough information for an outright denial. "Well, I don't think it's anything we'll ever find out about," he murmured. "Ebony's the only one we could talk to about that, and she's made it pretty clear it's no good to ask."

"A mystery we can't solve," Ron mused. "I don't think we've had one of those yet."

"It was only a matter of time," Hermione said numbly. "And this is the first one I really think we ought to drop."