A/N: An update, a bit quicker than I thought. -Anna Dearest
Chapter Seventeen
"Just what I was looking for," Voldemort sneered, walking straight through Harry and Fox. He stopped in front of a book shelf and removed a large, dusty book, worn with age. Harry's choked sighs of relief were drowned out by the Dark Lord's footsteps as he made his way back to the circle of Death Eaters.
"Now that we are all gathered," he continued, "I'm sure you all have seen dear Mr. Farrell?" He was referring to the werewolf currently locked away in their clutches. A shiver ran through the crowd at the thought of what that man had been through. "Indeed. Now, one of our spies at the Ministry has been able to copy the names in the Werewolf Registry. With any luck, we'll be able to track down most of them."
Harry and Fox exchanged worried glances at this, before returning their gaze to the dark cicle of men. One of the Death Eaters was shivering uncontrollably at his place.
"Calm yourself, Wormtail," Voldemort sneered with amusement. "One of our newer hide-outs is currently hosting our other plan. Lucius, have you gathered the ingredients for the Pensieve?"
"Yes, My Lord," Malfoy replied, voice muffled by his mask.
"Very good. We should be able to continue with that plan relatively soon. In the meantime, Bella, I want you to brew as much of the potion for those filthy werewolves as you can. Get your dear sister to help, if you must." Bellatrix bowed low to her master, showing that she'd be only too glad to help.
"What potion?" Harry hissed.
"I don't know," Fox replied, biting her bottom lip, her brows knitting in confusion. "Whatever it is, it can't be too wonderful for the werewolves."
"What do we do?"
"We stay here as long as we can, gather as much as we can, I suppose. You see," she said slowly, "we don't have a form." Fox reached out to the bookshelf her father had taken the dusty tome from, only to have her hand go straight through. "I don't put it past him to figure out we're here eventually, though."
"Me neither," Harry muttered, looking around the room in confusion. "Where is this place?"
"One of the old headquarters during the last war," Fox replied, disgust evident in her voice.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" Voldemort's voice shot out into the dark room, startling all its occupants.
"What do we do now?" Harry asked, turning to face Fox, only to find himself looking at an empty space. Soon enough, Harry jerked awake. "This makes no sense."
"OUCH!" Harry cried out, stubbing his toe for what had to be the fiftieth time that day.
"Not much sleep, Harry?" Hermione asked, investigating the dark cicles under his eyes.
"No," Harry yawned, continuing on their path to Defense Against the Dark Arts, passing the entrance to Dumbledore's office as they went. The stone gargoyle sprang to life, just as they reached that point in the corridor, revealing an exhausted Polymagus on the other side.
"I see it travels," Ron joked lightly.
"What are you up to, Fox?" Hermione asked conversationally.
"Off to spy this lovely day," Fox responded around her own yawn, after casting furtive glances down the corridor.
"Good luck with that, then," Harry said, wondering if this could possibly have anything to do with werewolf-affecting potions or Pensieve ingredients. As if sensing his thoughts, she nodded.
"Well, I'll be off," she said quickly, brushing past them and disappearing around the corner.
"Weird," Ron muttered. "I swear, I'll never get used to her or that prat of a brother she has."
"Let's go before we're late!" Hermione hissed. The trio then continued on their way towards Professor Tophirk's class.
"Good day, class!" she said, a small smile in place. "We're having a pop quiz today!"
The class groaned as one. Harry proceeded to allow his head to slam onto the desktop with a loud thud.
"I thought that would be your reaction," Tophirk remarked cheerfully, a grin tugging at her lips. "However, as your educational career at Hogwarts will be coming to an end within the next two years, you will be subject to these pop quizes at an increasing rate. In the real world, you may come upon situations where a textbook is not readily available. Therefore, there will be information covered from all five previous years, as well as this one!"
Professor Tophirk then passed out the pop quizes and returned to her desk where she could monitor all the students. Only an occasional "Eyes on your parchment, Ms. Brown!" or "The answer is not on the ceiling, Mr. Weasley. Please concentrate." disturbed the quiet of the classroom. As expected, Hermione was the first to hand her parchment to the professor, who nodded with satisfaction as she reviewed her answers.
"That went rather well," Hermione commented lightly as she exited the classroom as the bell sounded.
"Maybe for you," Ron mumbled darkly.
"Oh, come on, Ron," Hermione sniffed. "Tell me you couldn't have aced that quiz?"
"I didn't! I messed up, horribly. Not everyone is a genius, Hermione."
"What about you, Harry?" she asked, shifting her attention away from the brooding Ron.
"I doubt I did any better than Ron thinks he did," Harry yawned with a shrug.
"Most of it was what we covered in our third and fourth years!" Hermione stated exasperatedly. "You know, the years we had satisfactory professors!"
"One of which turned out to be a bloody lunatic," Ron added.
"That's not the point!" Hermione huffed, stomping off towards the Great Hall for lunch.
"I'll never get females," Ron said quietly to Harry, a distant look in his eyes.
"Plans, plans, plans," Fox muttered, shifting through another stack of parchment on the desk before her. Picking up one particular slip of parchment, her brows knitted in confusion, before her eyes widened in horror. Muttering a quick spell, the slip duplicated, and Fox slipped one into the pocket of her robes.
Moving over to a draw, she carefully eased it open without so much as a squeak. Looking into the wooden compartment, she gasped in surprise as she found herself gazing into a Pensieve. Only this one was different: it was black, not at all of the same silvery substance like most. Yet it was undoubtedly the same substance, perhaps just with a few modifications.
Picking up the peices of parchment beside the large basin, she looked over the ingredients and spells, eyes widening further in shock.
Duplicating those additional peices of parchment, she replaced everything and apparated quickly to the edge of Hogwarts' ground, setting off at a run as soon as she got there.
"Professor Dumbledore!" Fox gasped, stopping in the middle of the aged wizard's office.
"Yes, Fox?" Dumbledore asked kindly, yet quickly, sensing the girl's urgency.
"You need to summon everyone here quickly. I have very, very bad news."
"Harry Potter, Sir!" Dobby called out in the common room, quickly finding Harry among the remaining students.
"What is it?" Harry asked, turning from his Potions essay.
"Professor Dumbledore requests that you and your friends go to his office immediately, sir!" Dobby replied quickly.
"All right, then," Harry said slowly. "Come on."
The trio walked towards Dumbledore's office in silence, wondering what could possibly call them out at this time in the evening. Moving up to the Headmaster's office, they found they weren't the only ones. Members of the Order, the faculty, and the Defense Team were gathered in the room.
"Very well," Dumbledore said, ushering them inside. "Now that we're all here, begin."
Fox took a deep breath from her place in the middle of the circular room. "Well, I found two very recently made plans, it appears. Voldemort definitely has been up to something."
A general intake of breath at the name of her father didn't seem to phase the pale girl in the least. Instead, she reached into her robe pockets, extracting the duplicated parchment with a slightly shaking hand.
"Voldemort has mentioned something about a potion to use on werewolves," Fox continued, holding up one slip of parchment and casting a meaningful glance at Harry. Remus' eyebrows shot up to the line of his hair. "The potion itself is very complex, and the spells used alongside its making are without a doubt Dark Magic. The name of the potion is 'Bestia Dentro,' which means 'beast within.' The purpose of this potion is to transform the werewolf, no matter what phase the moon is at, and to make the change...permanent."
A general shudder ran through the room as each face drained of color and the temperature seemed to drop a few degrees.
"Furthermore, as if that weren't enough," Fox carried on, looking away from the shocked stares of the room's occupants, "he's using our past against us." She pulled out more slips of parchment, laying them on Dumbledore's desk. "There is a spell which requires the use of a Pensieve. He's collecting memories of those who have died and putting him into the Pensieve. The spell is here. Now all he needs is the blood."
"The what?" Remus asked sharply.
"The spell calls for blood," she continued. "Blood that is willingly given. Not much, but enough that he won't take it from his inner circle without paying the price."
"What does this spell do?" McGonagall asked with quavering voice.
"Quite simply," Fox stated with a heavy sigh, "it creates 'images of the dead.'"
"What does that mean?" Ron blurted out.
"It means he can bring back the body of anyone who's died, so long as he has enough memories of them in the Pensieve."
"What we most desire," Harry muttered.
"Exactly."
A/N: Not as long as I would've liked, but as long as I'm willing to write with the topic of this chapter at the moment. -Anna Dearest
Chapter Seventeen
"Just what I was looking for," Voldemort sneered, walking straight through Harry and Fox. He stopped in front of a book shelf and removed a large, dusty book, worn with age. Harry's choked sighs of relief were drowned out by the Dark Lord's footsteps as he made his way back to the circle of Death Eaters.
"Now that we are all gathered," he continued, "I'm sure you all have seen dear Mr. Farrell?" He was referring to the werewolf currently locked away in their clutches. A shiver ran through the crowd at the thought of what that man had been through. "Indeed. Now, one of our spies at the Ministry has been able to copy the names in the Werewolf Registry. With any luck, we'll be able to track down most of them."
Harry and Fox exchanged worried glances at this, before returning their gaze to the dark cicle of men. One of the Death Eaters was shivering uncontrollably at his place.
"Calm yourself, Wormtail," Voldemort sneered with amusement. "One of our newer hide-outs is currently hosting our other plan. Lucius, have you gathered the ingredients for the Pensieve?"
"Yes, My Lord," Malfoy replied, voice muffled by his mask.
"Very good. We should be able to continue with that plan relatively soon. In the meantime, Bella, I want you to brew as much of the potion for those filthy werewolves as you can. Get your dear sister to help, if you must." Bellatrix bowed low to her master, showing that she'd be only too glad to help.
"What potion?" Harry hissed.
"I don't know," Fox replied, biting her bottom lip, her brows knitting in confusion. "Whatever it is, it can't be too wonderful for the werewolves."
"What do we do?"
"We stay here as long as we can, gather as much as we can, I suppose. You see," she said slowly, "we don't have a form." Fox reached out to the bookshelf her father had taken the dusty tome from, only to have her hand go straight through. "I don't put it past him to figure out we're here eventually, though."
"Me neither," Harry muttered, looking around the room in confusion. "Where is this place?"
"One of the old headquarters during the last war," Fox replied, disgust evident in her voice.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" Voldemort's voice shot out into the dark room, startling all its occupants.
"What do we do now?" Harry asked, turning to face Fox, only to find himself looking at an empty space. Soon enough, Harry jerked awake. "This makes no sense."
"OUCH!" Harry cried out, stubbing his toe for what had to be the fiftieth time that day.
"Not much sleep, Harry?" Hermione asked, investigating the dark cicles under his eyes.
"No," Harry yawned, continuing on their path to Defense Against the Dark Arts, passing the entrance to Dumbledore's office as they went. The stone gargoyle sprang to life, just as they reached that point in the corridor, revealing an exhausted Polymagus on the other side.
"I see it travels," Ron joked lightly.
"What are you up to, Fox?" Hermione asked conversationally.
"Off to spy this lovely day," Fox responded around her own yawn, after casting furtive glances down the corridor.
"Good luck with that, then," Harry said, wondering if this could possibly have anything to do with werewolf-affecting potions or Pensieve ingredients. As if sensing his thoughts, she nodded.
"Well, I'll be off," she said quickly, brushing past them and disappearing around the corner.
"Weird," Ron muttered. "I swear, I'll never get used to her or that prat of a brother she has."
"Let's go before we're late!" Hermione hissed. The trio then continued on their way towards Professor Tophirk's class.
"Good day, class!" she said, a small smile in place. "We're having a pop quiz today!"
The class groaned as one. Harry proceeded to allow his head to slam onto the desktop with a loud thud.
"I thought that would be your reaction," Tophirk remarked cheerfully, a grin tugging at her lips. "However, as your educational career at Hogwarts will be coming to an end within the next two years, you will be subject to these pop quizes at an increasing rate. In the real world, you may come upon situations where a textbook is not readily available. Therefore, there will be information covered from all five previous years, as well as this one!"
Professor Tophirk then passed out the pop quizes and returned to her desk where she could monitor all the students. Only an occasional "Eyes on your parchment, Ms. Brown!" or "The answer is not on the ceiling, Mr. Weasley. Please concentrate." disturbed the quiet of the classroom. As expected, Hermione was the first to hand her parchment to the professor, who nodded with satisfaction as she reviewed her answers.
"That went rather well," Hermione commented lightly as she exited the classroom as the bell sounded.
"Maybe for you," Ron mumbled darkly.
"Oh, come on, Ron," Hermione sniffed. "Tell me you couldn't have aced that quiz?"
"I didn't! I messed up, horribly. Not everyone is a genius, Hermione."
"What about you, Harry?" she asked, shifting her attention away from the brooding Ron.
"I doubt I did any better than Ron thinks he did," Harry yawned with a shrug.
"Most of it was what we covered in our third and fourth years!" Hermione stated exasperatedly. "You know, the years we had satisfactory professors!"
"One of which turned out to be a bloody lunatic," Ron added.
"That's not the point!" Hermione huffed, stomping off towards the Great Hall for lunch.
"I'll never get females," Ron said quietly to Harry, a distant look in his eyes.
"Plans, plans, plans," Fox muttered, shifting through another stack of parchment on the desk before her. Picking up one particular slip of parchment, her brows knitted in confusion, before her eyes widened in horror. Muttering a quick spell, the slip duplicated, and Fox slipped one into the pocket of her robes.
Moving over to a draw, she carefully eased it open without so much as a squeak. Looking into the wooden compartment, she gasped in surprise as she found herself gazing into a Pensieve. Only this one was different: it was black, not at all of the same silvery substance like most. Yet it was undoubtedly the same substance, perhaps just with a few modifications.
Picking up the peices of parchment beside the large basin, she looked over the ingredients and spells, eyes widening further in shock.
Duplicating those additional peices of parchment, she replaced everything and apparated quickly to the edge of Hogwarts' ground, setting off at a run as soon as she got there.
"Professor Dumbledore!" Fox gasped, stopping in the middle of the aged wizard's office.
"Yes, Fox?" Dumbledore asked kindly, yet quickly, sensing the girl's urgency.
"You need to summon everyone here quickly. I have very, very bad news."
"Harry Potter, Sir!" Dobby called out in the common room, quickly finding Harry among the remaining students.
"What is it?" Harry asked, turning from his Potions essay.
"Professor Dumbledore requests that you and your friends go to his office immediately, sir!" Dobby replied quickly.
"All right, then," Harry said slowly. "Come on."
The trio walked towards Dumbledore's office in silence, wondering what could possibly call them out at this time in the evening. Moving up to the Headmaster's office, they found they weren't the only ones. Members of the Order, the faculty, and the Defense Team were gathered in the room.
"Very well," Dumbledore said, ushering them inside. "Now that we're all here, begin."
Fox took a deep breath from her place in the middle of the circular room. "Well, I found two very recently made plans, it appears. Voldemort definitely has been up to something."
A general intake of breath at the name of her father didn't seem to phase the pale girl in the least. Instead, she reached into her robe pockets, extracting the duplicated parchment with a slightly shaking hand.
"Voldemort has mentioned something about a potion to use on werewolves," Fox continued, holding up one slip of parchment and casting a meaningful glance at Harry. Remus' eyebrows shot up to the line of his hair. "The potion itself is very complex, and the spells used alongside its making are without a doubt Dark Magic. The name of the potion is 'Bestia Dentro,' which means 'beast within.' The purpose of this potion is to transform the werewolf, no matter what phase the moon is at, and to make the change...permanent."
A general shudder ran through the room as each face drained of color and the temperature seemed to drop a few degrees.
"Furthermore, as if that weren't enough," Fox carried on, looking away from the shocked stares of the room's occupants, "he's using our past against us." She pulled out more slips of parchment, laying them on Dumbledore's desk. "There is a spell which requires the use of a Pensieve. He's collecting memories of those who have died and putting him into the Pensieve. The spell is here. Now all he needs is the blood."
"The what?" Remus asked sharply.
"The spell calls for blood," she continued. "Blood that is willingly given. Not much, but enough that he won't take it from his inner circle without paying the price."
"What does this spell do?" McGonagall asked with quavering voice.
"Quite simply," Fox stated with a heavy sigh, "it creates 'images of the dead.'"
"What does that mean?" Ron blurted out.
"It means he can bring back the body of anyone who's died, so long as he has enough memories of them in the Pensieve."
"What we most desire," Harry muttered.
"Exactly."
A/N: Not as long as I would've liked, but as long as I'm willing to write with the topic of this chapter at the moment. -Anna Dearest