Chapter Five

9:00 pm – Dumbledore's Office - Hogwarts

After the feast, Professor Dumbledore excused the students, instructing them to follow their respective Prefects back to their dormitories. Robert continued to sit at the head table, quite full, as he watched the students walk sleepily and satiated out of the Great Hall.

Robert sat back in his chair, and inhaled deeply. His previous fatigue was again catching up to him, exacerbated by a continuously spinning mind, and an incredibly full stomach.

"Do not get too comfortable, my friend," said Paolo. "There is still much work to do tonight. We are to meet Professor Dumbledore in his office in five minutes."

True to Paolo's word, five minutes later, Robert and Paolo arrived outside a heavy stone archway containing an immense statue of a bird. "Amazing," said Robert. A moment later, Professor Dumbledore ambled up beside them.

"Good evening, gentlemen," he gave a wan smile. "Robert, although this is horrible business for us, you should be relieved to know that you are about to find out why you have been brought here tonight." He turned toward the bird, raised his hands, and said, "Sherbert lemon."

This must have been a password, Robert thought, because as soon as the words were spoken, the great bird began to turn on its axis, revealing an immense stone spiral staircase. "This way, gentlemen," said Professor Dumbledore. "Professors Snape and McGonagall should already be in my office waiting for our arrival."

As Robert, Paolo and Albus rode the staircase up toward what Robert now saw was a large oak double door, Robert's curiosity got the best of him.

"Albus, what happened to Professor Matado? Is that why I'm here?" Robert saw flashes in his memory of the horribly mangled bodies of Jaques Sauniere and Leonardo Vettra, and wondered if another gruesome viewing was on his agenda for today.

"You will find out momentarily. I presume that when you see what is sitting on the desk in my office, you will recognize it immediately."

As the great oak doors opened, Robert immediately saw that Dumbledore was right. Robert's heart sank. "Its a Cryptex."

"I presume you have seen one before, Robert?" Professor Dumbledore crossed to the rear of the desk, and sat down. "This one here is giving us some particular trouble. Seems that none of us are able to touch it. Whenever we do, the thing gives us a great shock, and throws us backwards. Severus and I have broken many of the gadgets in my office trying to figure this thing out, and frankly, while I do not prize my possessions completely, some of these do not belong to me."

Despite the prospect of another cryptex looming before him, and the possibility of having to look at another gut-wrenchingly mangled body, Robert could not help but look around the office. It was a large, circular room lined with endless shelves carrying numerous gadgets and trinkets completely unrecognizable to Robert.

Except for one trinket. Robert looked to the right of the desk and saw, floating in what seemed to be a magnetic field, a pyramid bearing the etching of an open eye, similar to that found on the back of an American Dollar bill.

"The all-seeing eye, the Eye of Horus," Robert's breath came in short bursts. "That's . . . that's an Illuminati symbol. Are you an Illuminatus?" Robert sat down. After the events of the past year, he went from not believing a modern Illuminati existed, to believing, and right back to not believing again. Robert felt as if his resolve, his faith in his discipline, was being tested.

"Yes, Robert, it is an Illuminati symbol, and no. I am not an Illuminatus. Never was. I never got into politics, especially the politics of religion and science. I have my own strong and firm beliefs in the benefits of both to mankind. However, I was too busy teaching transfiguration at that time, and working with my partner on alchemaic problems." Robert sighed with relief. "However, that partner, Nicholas Flamel, he was an Illuminatus. That trinket was a gift from him."

"Nicholas Flamel, the French alchemist, was your… partner? Impossible! He died centuries ago."

"Did he, now?" Dumbledore smiled. "Sadly, by my recollection, he and his wife, Pernelle, passed away together only last Tuesday." Robert shook his head, and dropped it into his hands. He didn't want to know. He wasn't going to ask.

"Frankly, Robert, it was through Nicholas that I first heard about you and your particularly unique set of skills." Robert looked up. "Nicholas had quite a fondness for Muggles. He often scoured the Muggle news, and, in his reading he heard about the events at Vatican City last year. He also heard that the Illuminati had somehow resurfaced, and that it was performing evil, horrible, murderous deeds – deeds which Nicholas would never have endorsed."

"Nicholas and I talked often about you, your knowledge, your role in saving the Holy City from that horrible fate. More importantly, your role in uncovering the truth – that it was not the Illuminati, after all." Dumbledore paused. "It is because of those events, and the turns of late," he gestured toward the Cryptex, "that I asked Paolo to bring you here today. How lucky for me when Paolo told me he knew you personally, that he even studied under you! I do believe, Robert, that we are in dire need of your expertise."

Robert bit. "Okay, why am I here?"

"Well," said Dumbledore, "as I said, we are having quite a time with this Cryptex. I was hoping you could find a way to open it."

With a crash, Harry Potter burst into the room, breathless. "Professor Dumbledore? Did you tell him yet? Is he here to help us work out the proph…oh." Harry looked crestfallen when he saw that there were others in the room besides Professor Dumbledore and Robert. "Guess not."

"Stay here, Harry. We may find that we will need your assistance." Dumbledore continued explaining to Robert. "Two days ago, when Paolo called you, I had, only thirty minutes before, discovered the body of Professor Matado laying right outside the stone phoenix downstairs."

Here it comes, just as I feared. The tour and the viewing.

"Do not worry, Robert, the body is long gone now," it was as if Dumbledore read his mind. "But you must know that his head was severed, and his neck was wrapped in a blue and white Ravenclaw scarf. Professor Matado also had a dead raven clutched in his left hand. Whoever killed Professor Matado removed his head, and placed it atop this Cryptex. Strange set up, obviously leaving clues, but we can't figure out what they were other than the obvious – that Matado was a Ravenclaw."

Robert became lost in the confines of his mind. His eyes darted to the left, and he scrubbed at his mouth, searching for the symbolic memories. Thankfully, Dumbledore paused to allow Robert the luxury of uninterrupted deliberation.

Ravenclaw -- the raven -- the color blue. Blue -- strong and steadfast or light and friendly, conveying importance and confidence without being somber or sinister -- associated with intelligence, stability, unity, and conservatism. The Raven – synonymous with initiation, wisdom, eloquence, teaching. "The air sign." Robert muttered. "Water, fire and now, air…"

Robert looked up. Dumbledore smiled approvingly. "I have since cleaned the Cryptex as best I could without touching it. You can imagine the shock I got when I tried to lift it and was summarily thrown across the hallway. I had to ask our caretaker, Argus Filch, to carry it up here for me. Mr. Filch is not a wizard, you understand."

"So, let me get this straight," Robert stood and began pacing. "This Cryptex here reacts whenever a wizard picks it up, or even touches it. So, that's why I'm here – a Muggle – not only can I solve it, or so you think, but I can touch it, and therefore open it?"

"Seems only logical does it not?"

Robert gave an involuntary shiver. This is déjà vu in the worst possible way. A mysterious call, a dead body, and a seemingly impossible series of puzzles. This, to Robert, was rapidly becoming an irritating pattern, like an overly repetitive plot in a formulaic series of novels.

Robert crossed to the desk and examined the Cryptex. It was larger than ones he had seen in Paris, about the size of a small bucket. It was a squat, wide cylinder, made of a dark brown wood Robert believed to have been mahogany. The letter bands were wrought from a shiny, coppery metal. Unlike the Crypteces he solved with the help of Sophie Neveu in Paris, this one's rotating bands carried varying kinds of symbols, not just numbers or Roman letters.

Robert recognized some symbols as Hebrew letters, Greek letters, Cyrillic letters, mathematical symbols, and Alchemaic symbols – a true symbolic mish-mash. Robert knew that, in order to open the Cryptex, the letters or symbols on the bands must be lined up in the proper sequence. Forcing the Cryptex open would only serve to destroy the contents inside.

Robert reached out a tentative hand and poked his finger quickly at the Cryptex. Nothing happened. He then slowly laid his hand flat along the top, holding it there momentarily, waiting for a reaction. Again, nothing happened. There were still some dried bits of blood caked and etched into a symbol on the top. The symbol, Robert knew well and immediately recognized.

"A pentagram," Robert observed, tracing the design with his index finger. "Does a pentagram mean anything to any of you? I mean, it is a symbol for numerous things where I come from, but in particular to wizards, does it mean anything?" Robert could not believe he was actually asking someone else to interpret a pentagram.

Snape responded. "While Muggles think that the pentagram is a sign of witchcraft, to us it is practically meaningless. The symbol has not been used in centuries. When it was used, it was only to mark directions, like a compass. So, no. It means nothing above and beyond pretty decoration."

"Perhaps, Robert, this will help." Dumbledore produced a piece of crumpled parchment from his pocket. "This, too was found with the body. Thus far, none of us have been able to make heads or tails of it."

Robert took the paper and sat down again, studying it. At the top, in green ink, it said,

Within the chamber lies the clue

To the one who gave Ravenclaw his due.

When it remains at mid the full moon

Two more spirits shall be free quite soon.

Robert winced. Horrible poetry. Not even in meter. "So," said Robert. "That ups the stakes a little bit. If we can't open this Cryptex by midnight on the full moon, if I'm reading this correctly, two more will die."

"Well, now that's obvious isn't it? We didn't need a Harvard symbologist to help us figure that out, now did we?" Snape barked. "Look out the window, Langdon! The moon is full tonight!"

Robert looked at his watch, ignoring Snape. Mickey told him it was 9:30 pm. Plenty of time. Robert continued to analyze the parchment. He saw a pattern of words written in red ink, arranged in a rough circle. As Robert turned the paper, he read the words, from left to right.

sell him Mars a falcon bold blue due

Robert scratched his head. "This makes no sense whatsoever." Robert turned it around again, repeating the words out loud, his focus sharpening. "But, there has to be a solution, there has to be something! Come on, Robert see it – see it. It's there, just see it!"

Before Robert could give the paper another turn, Snape grabbed it and flattened it on the desk. "Instead of you wasting time and ruminating about it, let me try -- my way -- Langdon." Snape took out his wand with a showy flourish and tapped the parchment. "Reveal your secrets."

The parchment seemed to shiver momentarily. Then, inkblots formed on the paper and bled out, forming words. Dumbledore read them.

I shall ne'er reveal my secrets

to a traitor such as yourself, Snivellus.

Snape blanched, and then scowled.

"Seems our killer has a sense of humor, Severus," Professor McGonagall snapped. "Sick, but a sense of humor nonetheless."

"Snivellus?" Harry chimed. "That's what my dad used to call you, isn't it, Professor Snape?" Snape, still pale, glowered at Harry. "I mean, sorry, sir, but it's important." Robert could immediately tell there was no love lost between Severus Snape and Harry Potter.

"Yes," Snape growled. "James Potter and his 'chum,' Sirius Black, thought it funny to call me that. I, frankly, never saw the humor in it." And that, Robert thought, is why.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir. Can I please try something? This may be one of my dad's trick parchments!"

"Harry," Dumbledore sighed. "I cannot imagine how one of Sirius and James' special maps would end up beside Professor Matado's body, especially carrying such a threatening message. But, at this point, Harry, if you have an idea, go with it."

Harry pulled his wand from within his robes, tapped the parchment, and said, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!"

As the first words emerged, Harry smiled, looking very encouraged.

"Messrs. Padfoot and Prongs…"

"Look! Those are Sirius and my Dad's nicknames! It must be one of my Dad's…"

Harry's elation was rudely cut off by the development of the next set of words. Harry's smile melted away, and his face went stark white.

Messrs. Padfoot and Prongs

Bled and died for their wrongs

Mr. Moony's oe'r crippled with grief.

Mr. Wormtail, the last, has fled from his past

And serves me, the Dark Lord, beneath.

The words stopped. Harry's eyes flashed as he glared at them. Robert could hear Harry's breath come in ragged hisses as the hatred and anger percolated within him. In a release of that anger, Harry grabbed at the parchment, and crumpled it in his hands as if he wanted to rip and tear at it.

"Harry, please." Professor Dumbledore pled, taking Harry by the shoulders. "We need that parchment. Please do not destroy it! I know that this -- thing -- is taunting us – taunting you -- with the deaths of your father and your godfather, but please…"

With tears streaking down his face, Harry threw the mangled parchment back down on the desk. Robert took it and smoothed it out again. As he did so, he noticed more words emanating from the paper.

If the Potter boy's hand

Dares touch this parchment again

Or the hand of any wizard should do

Then this Cryptex and clue

With the remainder of you

Shall crumble and burn where you stand.

"Well," said Professor Dumbledore, "it looks now as if you're the only one who can handle this parchment, too, Robert."

The words disappeared. In their place, Robert saw something more astonishing than anything he saw all day. This was the clue to end all clues, and Robert was just the person to interpret it.

As the ink receded back into the page, coagulated and pooled around the center of the circle of words. The ink then sucked rapidly back into the page, leaving enough ink behind to form a short series of numbers.

1.618:1

Robert nearly screamed with joy, mingled with a repeated feeling of déjà vu. "Phi!" He beamed at Dumbledore. "That number, its Phi! That's it! That's the solution!"

"What's the solution?" Snape sneered. "What is Phi?"

"It's the Golden Ratio. 1.618 to 1. DaVinci studied and drew it, it's in nature, art, the human body…it's creation and science and perfection all rolled into one. The pentagram, Professor Snape, is based on this ratio!"

Robert took the parchment. "Can I borrow a pen?" Paolo handed him a quill off of Dumbledore's desk, and dipped it into the inkwell.

Robert took the quill and drew a perfect pentagram, starting, as they traditionally do, from the bottom left, drawing up, down, to the upper left, and the upper right. "There."

Snape leaned over and read the words in the order in which Robert had marked their path. "Langdon, this still is naught but nonsense! 'Sell him a falcon. Due mars, bold blue?' You've gotten us nowhere!!" Robert continued to scribble on the parchment as Snape kept up his tirade.

"You, a Muggle, come in here, all high-and-mighty and you think you can break this -- this code? Is that what this is, simply a word and number game to you? The full moon is tonight, Langdon! If you do not open this by midnight, there will be another death! Matado is dead, Langdon! We may have to close the school if we don't …"

Robert looked up from the paper, looked at his watch again, and smiled. 9:45 pm. "You know, Professor Snape. Just two months ago I finished a case, I guess you can call it, where a mathematician lady and myself dealt with Cryptices, and clues left in scrambled words. I'm in great practice with this kind of stuff." O Draconian Devil… O Lame Saint…

"Do you have it figured out, Robert?" Professor McGonagall was now leaning over the desk.

"Yes," he said, "I believe I do." He spread the parchment out in front of him. The rest were careful not to touch it, especially Harry. "The words, 'due mars, bold blue' Forget that they're words. Focus on the letters, instead. Unscramble them. What does it say?" Robert looked at Dumbledore.

After a long pause, Harry piped up. "Albus Dumbledore?"

"Absolutely right, Harry. And what about 'sell him a falcon?' Think about the letters, Harry. Focus on them. Think of another name."

After another long pause, "Halls…no. Coals… Michaels….no that's not it." Harry muttered, and then a smile crept across his face. "Nicholas….Nicholas Flamel!"

Robert got up and clapped a hand on Harry's back. "You're smarter than you look, Potter." Harry couldn't help but grin. "Yes, Nicholas Flamel and Albus Dumbledore." Robert turned to Albus. "Now, what do you have in common with Flamel that we could use to open this Cryptex?"

"Well, we worked together in Alchemy. We created a Philosopher's Stone together. Nicholas already had one, and we, together, repeated the process. The stone that could turn metal into gold and create the elixir of life, which would make the drinker immortal."

"You did what?" Robert stared. "Did you really? I mean, does that stone really exist?" Robert fought to stay on topic, but given this bit of news he couldn't help but digress.

"Yes, that is how Nicholas managed to stay alive for so long! Alas, however, the stone has been destroyed. Six years ago, Voldemort tried to take it from me, so that he could come back and rise to power. Young Harry here prevented that."

Robert turned his attention back to the Cryptex. "Okay, alchemy, alchemy." Robert made a mental note to ask Dumbledore about the stone again at a more appropriate time. He inspected the Cryptex again, and began to spin the dials. Paolo joined him, and began pointing out symbols stamped on the metal bands.

"Try this one. This is the symbol for gold. Or this one, for silver. This one means earth. What about the elementals? Try lining up by earth, air, fire and water."

Unfortunately, however, there was more than one alchemaic symbol on each of the bands. "Damn. This doesn't help. There must be something else, it can't be just plain alchemy." He paced behind the Cryptex, thinking. "How common is the knowledge of the Philosopher Stone's formula?"

"Very common," said Professor Dumbledore. "The trick was mixing the ingredients in the right proportion and timing. That's why Voldemort had to try and steal the stone I had, he could not duplicate what Nicholas and I had done."

"That formula, what is it?" Robert leaned over the desk.

Dumbledore picked up the quill and a sheaf of parchment. He began writing a series of symbols and names. Paolo came around the desk and looked over Dumbledore's shoulder. "Magnesium, copper, sodium, water…. It's so simple!"

Dumbledore handed the sheaf to Robert. "Try this. Line up the symbols for the elements, just like I have here."

Robert was encouraged. There were ten bands on the Cryptex, and ten elements written on the page.

With Paolo's help with the symbols, Robert slowly turned the bands on the cryptex, lining them up with a small arrow at the topmost point of the pentagram. With a pop and a hiss, the cryptex opened. Professor McGonagall gasped.

"Woah." Harry said.

Robert reached inside the top of the Cryptex and retrieved the center canister. He slid off the top of the tube, and looked inside. The room held a collective breath.

Robert sighed and rolled his eyes skyward. "Damnit! I should have known!"

"What is it, man?" Snape barked. "Out with it."

Robert reached inside the canister and pulled out the contents. It was another Cryptex – with another note. Robert unfurled the note and read it out loud.

Brilliant of you to get this far.

How simple, that five-pointed-star

A Muggle must be in your midst

Know this then, no lie

That Muggle shall die

With a single and passionate kiss.

When he read the words, "That Muggle shall die," Robert's voice hitched.

Unless of course, he

Is more clever than me

And can open this puzzle anew

For I come in two hours

In fearsome great power

For the prophecy shall ne'er come true.

Keep vigilance! The prior clue

Shrewdly unraveled by you

Each hour is what is in store

For the lifeless Ravenclaw,

That mangled body you saw

Shall be joined by Hufflepuff and Gryffindor

"But we opened it!" Harry was the first to speak. "And it still says there'll be two more deaths – one from each House!"

Except Slytherin, Robert mused. "Killers don't always keep their promises, Harry. I've learned the hard way that, sometimes, they go for the spectacular." Robert looked up at Dumbledore. "We've been lied to. This is telling us then, that even though we got that Cryptex open….there still will be two, maybe three more deaths tonight." Robert looked at the parchment again. "It seems at least one each hour, possibly including my own! I think I have a vested interest in preventing them!"

Harry spoke again. "But, it also says that Voldemort's coming." The professors in the room – with the exception of Dumbeldore -- shuddered in unison. Even Robert found a chill run down his spine at the mention of the name. "And – the passionate kiss part – he must be bringing Dementors," Harry checked his watch, "at midnight."

Chapter Six

10:30 pm – Dumbledore's Office – Hogwarts

For the next twenty minutes, Robert, Harry, Dumbledore and the others poured over the clues in the parchment.

"The clue to open this thing must be here somewhere." Robert paced, having read the poem so many times he had nearly committed it to his photographic memory. "What are the main words there?"

Dumbledore leaned over, and without touching the parchment, read, "Brilliant, star, Muggle, die, kiss…."

"No, go on. I think it's in that second stanza there."

"Clever, puzzle, power, hour, prophecy…"

"That must be it!" Robert said, "the words puzzle and prophecy occur in the same paragraph, with the threat of more deaths -- his coming in power -- between the words. That must be the key to opening the cryptex!" Robert looked at his watch. "It's now 10:30. If the poem goes as it says, there will be another death in ½ hour, so we'd better hurry. The likely victim's going to be a Hufflepuff, because that House is mentioned first."

Dumbledore stiffened, as if he were mustering up is vast resolve. He looked around the room, his eyes delving into each person in turn, including Robert. "Then we need to do all we can to ensure that nothing of the sort happens. Severus, I ask that you go inform the staff, especially those who are of Hufflepuff House – Professor Sprout, Professor Vector, and Madame Pomfrey, I believe. Gather them in the staff room and please keep them there. Watch over them, Severus. I have faith that you can guard them steadfastly, and if need be, with your life."

Snape's face hardened and he nodded curtly.

"And Minerva, please go to the Hufflepuff Common Room -- the password is "mandrake" -- and keep the students together. Take a headcount. There are seventy of them, exactly, including their Prefects, Susan Bones and Ernie MacMillan. Enlist their help if needed. The poem does not delineate between staff and students, so we must assume that even our students from Hufflepuff House will be in danger."

Dumbledore suddenly looked sad. "I cannot fathom how Hufflepuff could withstand the blow if another one of its numbers would lose a life to Lord Voldemort. The loss of their beloved Cedric Diggory three years ago still haunts many of them and many of the other students as well."

Myself included, Harry thought. Literally.

McGonagall, like Snape, showed a steely resolve in her eyes. She, too, nodded curtly, almost militaristic. Both professors turned and swiftly left the room, robes trailing in a flourish behind them.

"Paolo." Dumbledore turned. "I must first ask you to alert the Prefects and heads of Houses for Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Start with Gryffindor, that would be Colin Creevey, Hermione Granger, and the Head Boy, Ronald Weasley. Make sure that there is a teacher in every common room, and that all students and teachers are accounted for. Then please, I ask that you stand watch tonight at the front entrance to the castle. Alert Mr. Filch and Hagrid, and they will help you keep watch. No one must enter or leave the castle until we can ensure everyone's safety."

"But, Headmaster," Paolo stammered. "I would certainly be of much more help here. The symbols, the clues. I can help…"

"Paolo, please." Dumbledore all but glared over his half-moon spectacles. "Please, do what I ask of you. You are the interim Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and you have special knowledge and skills that Hagrid and Filch do not. The school will need guarding by more magic than they can provide."

"But sir!" Paolo protested again. Robert had never seen Paolo so nervous or upset before. Clearly he wanted to stay, but, why?

"I will only ask you one more time, Paolo. Please. Go." Dumbledore pointed a long finger at the door. Robert looked at Paolo with a questioning glance, and jerked his head slightly toward the door, as if to ask, 'what's the big deal, just do what he says!'

With a resigned sigh, Paolo pulled open the door, and left the room, the large oak door shutting slowly behind him. The only ones left in the expansive office were Harry, Dumbledore and Robert.

"Now that we have those tasks attended to, and some more privacy, we can get to the feat at hand." Dumbledore sat down behind his desk. "Robert, I must ask you for complete honesty and utter secrecy. Harry and I are about to divulge to you a secret that he, myself, and his two friends only, share."

Harry gave a startled look of surprise.

"Yes, Harry, I know you told Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger." Dumbledore leaned forward. Harry sat in a chair and began fidgeting with the end of his robe. "But, it is fine. I expected that you would. I presume that they have assured you complete secrecy, however."

"Yes sir. They have. And I trust them with it – with my life."

"Then, the circle remains unbroken." Dumbledore looked at Robert again. "There is a prophecy…"

"Yes, Hermione began to tell me about it on the train, but my guess is she only told me part of it."

"Yes, sir. Only the part about the power the Dark Lord knows not." Harry interjected.

"Fine, fine," said Dumbledore. "What is done is done, but what matters at this very moment is how the prophecy can provide us clues to opening this cryptex. I again, Robert, ask you for complete confidence. What is contained in the prophecy is not for the ears of those who would support the Dark Lord. If the true words of the prophecy were to fall into his hands, it could be deadly for Harry – or anyone else the prophecy may refer to."

"Harry mentioned that he wasn't sure if the prophecy referred to him or not." Robert said. "Who else could it be? What is the prophecy?"

Harry, almost in a trance-like-state, began reciting the prophecy from memory.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. And Either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives."

Robert stood in awe. "That is a serious prophecy. So," he turned to Dumbledore, "that means then that either You-Know-Who…"

"Robert," Dumbledore interrupted. "Use his real name in front of Harry and myself. Neither of us fear it. Neither of us believe the name should be covered up with euphemisms in fear, either."

Robert continued, "either Voldemort or Harry must kill the other or die themselves." He mused for a moment. "But who thrice defied him? Who was born in the seventh month? Robert took out a piece of parchment and began writing.

"Please do not write this down, Robert." Dumbledore placed a gentle hand over Robert's writing hand. Robert slowly dropped the quill. "Both Harry and I know it well. Harry's parents, James and Lily Potter, defied the Dark Lord three times before their deaths. And Harry was born on 31st July."

"But, if Voldemort doesn't know the prophecy, how can it be the clue to this Cryptex?"

"Because he does know part of it. He knows only the first part. 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies.' That, we believe, is why Voldemort attacked Harry so many years ago. He was trying to stop Harry from being able to vanquish him as the prophecy said. But, by doing so, he actually set the prophecy in motion. As Harry probably told you, when Voldemort attacked him, the curse rebounded, and rendered Voldemort powerless."

"Okay, then, knowing that…" Robert began pacing anew. "The key words there are, power, vanquish, thrice, defied, month, and seventh. But this cryptex is only symbols again…lots of symbols, and there are only four bands…different characters from different languages – Cyrillic, Greek, Alchemaic symbols, even Hobo signs. But no letters. How do we apply those words to this cryptex?" Robert thought hard for a moment. "The first one was alchemaic. This one must be too. We need Paolo."

Dumbledore sighed. He clapped his hands twice, and Paolo appeared with a 'pop' behind Robert.

"What the? How did you do that?"

"You called, Professor?"

"Yes, Paolo." Dumbledore said gravely. "We have need of your knowledge of alchemy again. There are six words here we are working with. Do any of them have corresponding symbols in alchemy?"

"What are the words?"

Robert recited them. "power, vanquish, thrice, defied, month, and seventh."

Paolo thought for a moment. "Is there more to the prophecy? Are there more words to work with?" He looked at Dumbledore expectantly.

"Not at this moment, Paolo. That is all we have for now, and that is all we need to concern ourselves with now."

Paolo sighed. "Yes, four of them. Power, three, month, seven." Paolo took a quill and parchment and wrote the symbols down. He handed the paper to Robert. "Are you sure there isn't more? That doesn't seem right."

"No, thank you, Paolo," said Dumbledore. "That is all. Please return to your duties. I presume Hagrid and Filch will be waiting for you at the main door by now."

"Are you sure?" Paolo asked again.

"Quite." With that, Dumbledore clapped his hands again, and Paolo vanished with another 'pop."

Robert shook his head. "I'll never get used to that." Regaining his senses, Robert lifted the sheaf of parchment. "Let's try it." He picked up the cryptex and began rotating the coppery bands. First, power. The band clicked into place, an encouraging sound. Then, three. Click. Month. Click. Seven. Click.

The bands on the cryptex whirred and spun wildly, and the cryptex shook violently in Robert's hands. Robert dropped it to the floor, where it rolled toward the door. When it came to rest, it glowed an iridescent green for a moment, and the light faded slowly. Robert and Harry crossed to the door and bent over, staring at the now lifeless cryptex.

"Pick it up." Harry said, questioningly.

Robert did. He momentarily fumbled with the endcaps, and tried to push the center open. "Damn," he said.

"What," Dumbledore was breathless.

"Didn't open." Robert sighed. "That didn't work. Wrong clues, we've been misled again."

Dumbledore sank heavily into his chair. Harry looked expectantly between Robert and Dumbledore. "What do we do now? How do we open it?"

"We start over. We try again," Dumbledore said.

Both Harry and Robert walked slowly back to Dumbledore's desk. Robert looked at his watch. "It's 10:59. We're out of time. But, let's have another look at that…"

A bloodcurdling scream rent the end of Robert's sentence, and an eerie silence followed. All three remained in rapt attention, eyes on the doors. As the great oak doors slammed open, Dumbledore, Robert and Harry all shot to their feet.

Minerva McGonagall stood in the doorway, panting, her chest heaving, and visibly frightened. Her hair was pulled out of her otherwise neat bun, her hat was askew, and her emerald green robes had dark, reddish stains along the hemline and sleeves. There was a slash of bloodstain across her chest and a kiss of blood on her left cheek.

"Albus! Albus! There's been another murder! Come, come quickly!" She began sobbing. "It's Professor Vector, Albus, she's….she's dead! Oh, Albus, it is so horrible!"

Dumbledore pushed off from his desk with a youthful bound that Robert never thought he would see in a man his apparent age. "Where, Minerva. I thought she was with…"

"Severus said she wasn't in the teacher's lounge. He searched the entire castle for her. He found Professor Sprout and Madame Pomfrey, but Professor Vector was nowhere to be found! She wasn't in her quarters, wasn't in the Hufflepuff common room, and wasn't in her classroom! He tried, Albus, but he couldn't find her and couldn't protect her!" She sobbed anew. "Severus is beside himself with anger, and grief, and regret…"

"Minerva, I blame neither you nor Severus. There is no need for guilt, no need for regret. Whoever is behind these murders, I now see will go to any lengths to carry them out. It very well may be that we will not be able to protect anyone." Dumbledore opened the oak doors. "Minerva, you must show me where she is, show me Professor Vector. Robert, given the clues left with Professor Matado's body, perhaps you should come along."

"What about me?" Harry asked. "What should I do?"

Dumbledore gently, fatherly, placed his hands on Harry's shoulders and looked deep into his eyes. "You must return to your common room, Harry. There should be a teacher in there, I assume it is Madam Hooch?" He looked at Minerva, who nodded affirmatively. "Go there. Help Madam Hooch, Ron, Colin, and Hermione. Protect your classmates and those in the classes younger than you. Not only do I need you there, with them, Harry, but your life is too important. You, of all people, must be protected at all costs. Do you understand me? I do not want the Gryffindor in the poem to be you."

Harry was reluctant to leave, but understood. He nodded. "Yes, Headmaster." He turned and walked out the door.

Minerva led Robert and Dumbledore out of the office. The three followed Harry back to the Gryffindor common room, and breathed a sigh of relief as Harry gave the password, "flobberworm," and entered behind the portrait hole. Robert could hear other students asking Harry what was going on, where he'd been, why were they all there, and why did he have teachers with him?

The portrait hole closed. If Robert was in any other situation, on any other day, he would have taken the time to admire the painting of the fat lady guarding the Gryffindor common room. But as circumstances warranted, his attention was drawn violently elsewhere.

"This way," said Minerva. "I found her in the Arithmency hallway as I was doing my patrol." The three walked at breakneck speed through numerous hallways and up two flights of stairs, one of which, to Robert's astonishment, moved as they were standing on it.

They lit from the staircase and stepped onto a large landing. Behind a series of columns Robert saw a large, slumped pile on the floor. "Is that her?"

Minerva sobbed again. "Yes. She's there." She pointed.

Robert and Dumbledore left Minerva and strode over to Professor Vector's lifeless body. What Robert saw horrified him. Moreso than any of the murders of any of the Vatican Preferitti Cardinals he saw a year ago.

"Minerva, please go inform the Hufflepuff prefects, and Professor Sprout."

Professor McGonagall left without a word and headed back down the moving staircase.

Professor Vector was a slight woman with long, auburn hair, and from what Robert could see – as her head was turned to the side and she was on her stomach -- brown, sullen eyes. From the immense pool of blood around her body, Robert immediately surmised that she had bled to death. As Robert surveyed the body, he did not immediately see any trauma to her body, evidence of injury – that is, until he and Dumbledore turned her over.

As Professor Vector was now lying on her back, Robert saw the exact cause of death. It was exsanguination all right, but the cause was her hands being severed from her arms, just above the wrist. The remaining stumps of her arms were tied in front of her with a bright yellow cord. Robert could feel the bile rise in his throat, and a wave of nausea overtook him momentarily.

He looked further down her body and noticed that her feet had also been tied with the same yellow cord. Whoever did this, cut off her hands and left her immobile so that she could only bleed to death where she lay, and could not run for help.

Robert looked above Professor Vector's head, and saw her hands. They were clasped together, seemingly in prayer. But, they were holding something….the tail of something – a furry animal of some sort.

Dumbledore stepped gingerly over Professor Vector's middle, and walked to the spot where the animal lay. "It's a badger, and it is dead, as well." He stood up. "I fear we have our Hufflepuff death. The badger is the Hufflepuff animal."

Still wracked with nausea, Robert backed away from the body, leaned against a column, and sank down slowly. Again, his mind started reeling with the symbols that lay before him. A badger, the color yellow – symbols of Hufflepuff House.

"Yellow," Robert mumbled. His mind continued reeling. That color – it has conflicting symbolism. On the one hand it denotes happiness and joy, but on the other hand it's the color of cowardice.

Robert remembered that yellow ribbons were worn as a sign of hope as women waited from their men to come marching home from war – abiding love and loyalty. The badger, too, carried great symbolic meaning…passion, perseverance, control, earthiness, groundedness, wisdom.

The meanings in both the color yellow and the badger – loyalty, earthiness, happiness…led Robert to one conclusion. The earth element.

Robert's head was now swimming in symbols and meanings. Slytherin – water; Gryffindor – Fire; Ravenclaw – Air; Hufflepuff – earth.

Air -- Ravenclaw – Professor Matado's head – brains, intelligence, intellect, strategy, wisdom.

Earth -- Hufflepuff – Professor Vector's hands – earthiness, work, dedication, the hands are the Irish symbol for loyalty.

Fire -- what would the Gryffindor death be? The heart? Would the killer's methodology be so gruesome as to rend the next victim's heart from his very chest? After what he just heard and what he just witnessed, Robert believed strongly so.

Robert's irritation and aggravation grew. He felt helpless, useless to figure all of this out. It must mean something! Robert wracked his brain. But what? Why murder one from each House? Why faculty members? Why these cryptices? What could someone, Voldemort, presumably, possibly want so badly that he is killing – systematically – playing these games for it? If Voldemort wanted Harry so badly, why kill these others?

Robert buried his head in his hands, and raked his fingers through his graying hair. He rested his elbows on his upturned knees. He was tired, sick, and the guilt was beginning to rack at him. This death could have been prevented, he thought, if he had only been able to open that cryptex. How could he have been so blind? How could he have been so horribly misled?

"We have all been misled, Robert," Dumbledore said. "Do not take the blame all on your own. It is not yours to carry. Don't worry, we still have time. There is one more death to prevent. I should be most grateful if no one from my own House, Gryffindor, should die tonight." Dumbledore knelt beside Robert, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Come now, let's give that puzzle another try."

Robert looked at his watch. It was now 11:35. He knew that if he didn't engage his brain soon, Dumbledore, and another House, would be in mourning again in a mere twenty five minutes.

Chapter Seven

11:45 pm – Dumbledore's Office - Hogwarts

After Mr. Filch arrived to take care of Professor Vector's remains, "Oh, good lady. Ever so strict with the wretched students. Sniff. May she rest her immortal soul…," Dumbledore and Robert returned to Dumbledore's office. They spent the next ten minutes debating, throwing ideas back and forth about how to open the cryptex and hopefully, stop the killings.

The clue said that Gryffindor would be next to suffer. Even in his short time at Hogwarts, Robert had taken a keen affinity to this particular House.

Perhaps it was the symbolism, the color of his own robe lining, or the trio he met on the train. Perhaps it was the dedication of the Gryffindor man sitting at the desk in front of him. It was bad enough that there were two other Houses hurt by this tragedy. Robert did not think he could bear to see the Gryffindors so afflicted.

Robert continued to pace the office in front of Dumbledore's desk. "There must be something." Robert looked at his watch. Time was flying at incredible speeds now…and it was not cooperating with them at all. "11:55. Unless we solve this now, we're out of time."

Just as it happened an hour prior, Dumbledore and Robert were stunned by a loud bellow from just outside the door. "Murder! Murder most foul!" It was Paolo this time.

Paolo wrenched open the door. He, like Professor McGonagall, was panting and sweating. "Gryffindor… Professor Dumbledore, there's been another murder…but now the body's gone! We've started to search the castle, but nothing…no sign of him!"

Robert's biggest fear had just come true. Another murder, another body, another death he could have prevented.

Just as one hour before, Paolo led Professor Dumbledore and Robert to the hallway in front of the Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom. He pointed. "There. There it is."

It? Uh oh. This can't be good. The place where Paolo pointed was a jumbled mess. Each of the items in the pile was covered with blood. There was a red and yellow scarf, a bloodstained, tattered and patched robe, a Gryffindor robe patch, and a briefcase that read, "Professor R.J. Lupin."

"Lupin," said Dumbledore, "My God, no…" He fell to his knees and knelt beside the briefcase, his eyes traveling all over the evidence. Robert saw Dumbledore freeze, staring in one spot, his eyes widening in horror. "Robert, look here." He pointed.

Robert walked over and looked. On the floor was a large, shining and fresh pool of blood. But it was no ordinarily pool of blood. This was a pool of blood in the shape of a heart. Yes, thought Robert, I was right…with Gryffindor, the murderer went for the heart. The furnace of the body…the fire sign. "There's no animal here."

"That," Professor Dumbledore said, "is because the Gryffindor symbol is much larger than a raven or a badger. It would seemingly be impossible to drag a dead lion through the halls of Hogwarts."

Lion, thought Robert. That makes sense. It goes hand in hand with the symbology of the color red and the fire sign. Family ties, strength, courage, resolve, energy, ferocity. The lion.

There was a long pause. Paolo was the first to speak. "Robert, its time to get you out of here. That poem has certainly lived up to its threats thus far."

"But what about the dementors or whatever those things were that Harry was talking about?"

"It is now midnight, Robert, You-Know-Who is coming, and I for one do not want him to live up to his threat to bring a dementor in to perform the kiss on you…it is horrible. It is not a means to kill you, dementors suck out your soul and leave you alive, but an empty shell."

Suck out your soul -- Robert did not like the sound of that. "Where do I go?"

"Professor Dumbledore," said Paolo. "I know where to take him…the place where Lupin used to go. Let me take him there, Dumbledore, it is safe there."

Dumbledore nodded in agreement. "It is now up to me to protect the school, and up to you, Paolo, to protect Robert. But he must solve that cryptex. It is still vital, and I expect you will let me know when he does."

Paolo nodded. "Come, Robert." Robert followed Paolo down the hallway, and down the main stairs. They went past Hagrid and Mr. Filch and exited through the front oak doors, hearing them close solidly behind them. "This way."

Paolo led Robert a short distance away from the castle. Robert was silent throughout the walk, his mind on the cryptex and on the possibility of his own impending death. "Robert, you will be safe in this place," Paolo said.

They were standing before a huge, grayed willow tree with immense, elephant-leg main branches, ending in huge knarled knots. Robert got the idea that the tree somehow sensed their presence – and did not like it one bit. The great branches began swaying and moving voluntarily, as there was no wind to move them. The closer they came, the more violent and deliberate the tree's movements became.

"Here? With this tree? Safe? Its moving by itself, Paolo! I don't think so." Robert began to tremble with renewed fear. "What the hell is that?"

"That is the Whomping Willow. It was planted here years ago, in part to protect the castle and in part to protect the students. It's a real fixture around here. Treat it with respect, and it'll treat you with – er – respect."

"What am I supposed to do, bow to it?" Robert snapped.

"No," Paolo replied, ignoring the brewing sarcasm. "you're going inside the tree – well, under it. Watch and learn." Paolo picked up a branch and poked it at a small knot at the base of the tree's gargantuan trunk. Immediately, the tree stopped moving and stood rock still. "Come with me."

Paolo led Robert to a small, rounded bit of root at the tree base. Paolo knelt down and pushed the top of the root aside, revealing a small opening. "Go on in there," he pointed. "At the base of the opening is a door. Go on inside. It's the passage to a secret place called the Shrieking Shack."

"The Shrieking …" Forget the weird name, Robert was paying more attention to the frighteningly miniscule opening -- his ingrained claustrophobia kicking in again at full strength. Robert peered down into the dark shaft, recalling a frightening incident when, as a child, he fell hundreds of feet into an abandoned well and had to tread water for five hours before finally being rescued.

"Yes, Robert, ignore the name. It's for local color only. It's perfectly safe. And yes, Robert, the hole is big enough. You won't get stuck, and there's no water to tread at the bottom." Robert looked unsure. Paolo grinned sympathetically. "Trust me, amico."

I can do this. Robert stirred up what was left of his courage. I can do this. No fear. No fear. No fear. It's not a well. It will lead to an open room. "Okay, what do I do when I get in there."

"Stay in there. Work on the cryptex – get the thing open and get the clue inside. If you open it, knock on the door three times. That will send a signal to Dumbledore's office and I will come and get you immediately – literally, immediately. Make sure you close the passage door, and any other doors, behind you." Robert gave him another wary look. "Robert! Believe me, you will be safest in here. We don't want you exposed when You-Know-Who gets here."

Robert nodded absently. He crouched down, mustered up his resolve again, and hung his legs in the shaft opening. No fear, no fear, no fear… Paolo gave his shoulders a slight push, and Robert went careening down the stone slide, feeling the slick, slimy walls against his open palms. Memories of falling into the abandoned well careened just as quickly through his now panicked mind.

As soon as it began, however, the ride ended. This time, much to Robert's relief, it did not end with a cold, wet splash. Instead, Robert felt his feet touch a soft, cushiony, spring-supported surface. A mattress? The room around him was pitch black with the exception of a chink of light at the far side.

The room smelled strongly of musty fabric, and damp earth. The air was equally as damp. Robert stood and ran his hands over the stone walls. They, like the walls of the entrance slide, seemed to be lined with a wet, spongy moss or lichen. Robert walked toward the light, entered the room, and, as Paolo instructed, shut the door behind him.

The shack around Robert looked as haunted as the locals probably thought it was. It reminded him of a fun house he had gone through on a dare at the end of a particularly disastrous date with a particularly dangerous woman ten years his junior. But this time, the dust was not sprinkled there purposefully, the smells were not pumped in, and the cobwebs were not made of spun fabric, or the spiders plastic. The grim features in this haunted house were real.

The rooms and hallways were dimly lit with what looked like blue-flamed torches. The wallpaper was peeling away in great sheets, and was covered by a blue-gray soot. Spider webs in every corner shone in the little moonlight that streamed in from the dingy windows. Robert looked down. The wainscoting was stained with damp and what appeared to be a black, slimy mold. Not a healthy place. Should be condemned, or at least fumigated.

Robert headed up the stairs. As he walked, he saw footprints in the dust. Strange footprints, these. Two sets. One, a pair of shoes, the other looked like that of an animal, like a dog or a lion. Whoever lives here must have a pet, or something. Great, Robert sighed. Now I'm going to be dog-sitting.

As Robert reached the top landing, he heard a voice. Mumbling. Incoherent. "Hello?" The voice was coming from what looked like be former master bedroom. "Hello, is anyone in here?" The mumbling now combined with loud, raspy breaths. "Hello?"

Robert pushed the door open. The room was dark save for a small sliver of moonlight coming in through a slime-covered open window. As Robert entered the room, he heard the distinct sound of chains rattling. He took a step further inside.

Woosh! Crash! The door behind him shut with a whistle and a loud slam. Robert jumped what felt like a mile, clutching at his heart. I'm going to have that coronary yet, he thought. Robert turned, clasped his hand over the doorknob, and turned. The knob would not budge. "What the hell!" He tried again. Still, the door remained firmly locked. "Oh, no…"

The breathing from the corner of the room became even more jagged, full of rage, animalistic. The chains rattled harder, as if whatever was attached to them was straining and pulling. Robert even thought he heard the distinct 'creak' of a chain beginning to pull away from its mooring.

"Uh, hello? Who's there?"

The only response was a deep, bloodthirsty, threatening growl.

Robert's adrenaline kicked in full power, and his mind went into a complete panic spin. What the hell is that thing and why am I locked up with it? After the initial adrenaline rush came the innate flight or fight reflex. Neither flight nor flight, however, was an option. "Oh, my God. I'm dead. I am completely dead."

There was a window to Robert's immediate right where the moon's rays peeked in through the closed curtains. Although Robert did not really want to, he had to see exactly what he was facing – even though the cryptex in his hand was his only weapon. He inched, carefully, over to the window, and threw open the curtains.

All Robert could do was plaster himself against the wall in sudden and abject fear. The cryptex was still clutched in his hand. He felt it start to slip as the sweat accumulated commensurate with his fear and panic.

"My God! My God! What….what…" Robert's eyes darted around the room, his terror and dread increasing exponentially, along with the amount of sweat now pooling around his brow and his turtle neck collar.

In sheer desperation, Robert turned and tried to throw open the window sash. No good. It was painted shut. He fumbled with the lock. No good. He patted his hands against the window glass, it seemed normal enough. What now? Break it. Break the glass. But, how?

Robert again looked around the room, searching for a blunt instrument – something, anything! Then, his eyes fell upon the cryptex in his hand. Damn this thing, he thought. I need to get out of here. He pummeled the glass with the puzzle, trying desperately to shatter the window. The cryptex merely bounced off, over and over and over, with not so much as a crack in the window. With the last whack, the cryptex rebounded, smacking Robert full on the nose.

Robert grunted and hunched over in pain, covering his offended nose with his hands. "Oh, ow!" Robert tasted blood. "Crap! I've gotta get out of here, but how!" He looked again at the thing in the corner. The beast was now seething, saliva forming in great, frothy-white drips at the corners of its mouth. "Blood….its smells blood. Just great." He started inching back toward the door, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand.

The thing before him was immense. In Robert's panic stricken estimation, the thing was a combination of a wolf, a dog, and…something. It had a short, stubbly coating of mangy gray fur -- rounded, haunting yellow eyes, triangular ears, and fangs – oh God, those fangs -- huge and bloody, dripping with saliva. This thing, whatever it was, was hungry – deadly hungry. Robert was in no mood to become its next meal. The thing ran forward and pulled taut on its chains again, missing Robert with its mammoth front claws by mere inches.

Robert tried the door again. Pulling, yanking, pounding, shoving, turning, kicking, yelling, cursing, all to no avail. Then he remembered what Paolo had told him.

Knock three times.

Knock, knock, knock. Paolo said he'd come immediately. Knock, knock, knock. He tried again, and again, and again. No Paolo. "Immediately, Paolo, immediately! Come on, Paolo!" Robert turned and looked at the beast again. His eyes quickly flashed over it, and his gaze landed on the floor beneath. What he saw increased his horror. Robert's heart gave a sickening jolt, and his stomach flip-flopped.

On the floor, next to the chain mooring, was a large hourglass. The glass was demarcated by minutes, from two hours to one minute – a wizarding timer. From what Robert could see of the glass contents, there was only about three minutes left. The hourglass, in turn, was attached to the chain. If the hourglass were to empty and turn, it appeared, the chain would be released. "I'm in big, big trouble."

In a moment of fear-induced insanity, Robert wished desperately that he could just click his heels together and say "there's no place like home, there's no place like home" and get the hell out of Oz.

Robert turned and knocked again – three times. Still, no sign of Paolo. "Where is he?"

"All that knocking will get you nowhere, Professor Langdon, and it is rather irritating." Robert froze, his eyes growing large. The voice was crystal clear, human, and extremely intelligent.

Robert wheeled around. "Who said that?"

"I did." The voice came from the corner, the same place as the creature. "Me, over here."

"Who are you?"

"In this form, I'm a werewolf. In my human form, I am Professor R.J. Lupin, one of the former teachers from Hogwarts."

"Lupin? I thought you were dead. The Gryffindor death…"

"A clever ploy by the one who murdered the others, knocked me out, and brought me here."

"Who did that?"

"Sadly, I don't know. But it is a full-moon tonight, and, on nights such as this, if I don't get my wolfsbane draught, I, unfortunately, become very dangerous."

"But, how…how can you be talking to me?"

"Because I actually did take my wolfsbane tonight…but it's been tampered with," said Lupin, his breath now becoming ragged, "weakened, diluted. It is supposed to numb my human senses and memories, and tame the beast, leaving me essentially stupid and harmless." Lupin growled involuntarily.

"However," Lupin continued. "neither has happened. It has been strange. I've never been coherent, never had my wits about me as the wolf before. However, this state of sentience has fluctuated greatly all night. In fact, I feel I will be losing myself yet again very shortly, Professor Langdon."

Robert actually saw Lupin – saw the man -- within the beast's feral yellow eyes. "If you don't get out of here by the time this hourglass empties, I fear that I will likely kill you. I don't want to, but if I am not in my right mind, I will."

"So then, Lupin, we'll just have to keep you in your right mind, then."

"I…believe…" Lupin struggled to speak, producing more ragged breaths, the words turning into growls, "that…may…prove… im…im….impossible." The sentence ended with a sickening, loud gurgle. "You must…you must leave, NOW!" Two minutes.

"I can't!" Robert shouted, "the door locked behind me and I can't break the glass! I'm stuck in here with you! So, stay with me, Lupin! Listen to my voice! What's your first name?"

More ragged breaths. Lupin's chest was heaving now. "Re…Remus!"

Appropriate name for a werewolf – quite fitting. "Okay, Remus. Call me Robert. Stay with me now….maybe if you think about something….help me with this cryptex here! I need to open it. Whatever is in it may just save the school and everyone in it. There's a poem clue. Let me read it to you. Just keep focused on it."

"Not…sure…if I can!"

"Try! Focus! Fight!" Robert quickly explained the previous cryptex, and its solution. He then read the new poem aloud to Remus.

Brilliant of you to get this far.

How simple, that five-pointed-star

A Muggle must be in your midst

Know this then, no lie

That Muggle shall die

With a single and passionate kiss.

Unless of course, he

Is more clever than me

And can open this puzzle anew

For I come in two hours

In fearsome great power

For the prophecy shall ne'er come true.

Keep vigilance! The prior clue

Shrewdly unraveled by you

Each hour is what is in store

For the lifeless Ravenclaw,

That mangled body you saw

Shall be joined by Hufflepuff and Gryffindor

"Dumbledore and I have talked about it, and we think it has to do with what You-Know-Who knows about the prophecy. But that didn't work. We need another approach, another angle."

"Its….it is so….obvious, Robert. The…the Houses." Remus breathed, still fighting. "Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor…Slytherin. The clue… must be in… the Houses."

Robert could sense Remus was teetering on the edge of sanity. As Robert tried again to engage his brain, to work out the clues, he heard a howling in the distance. Remus, involuntarily, answered with a loud, ear-splitting wail.

Robert ducked, covering his hears. Maybe he's right! The clues. We've been misled again! They're not in the prophecy, the clues are in the murders! The symbols left there by the bodies! The raven, the badger, the lion….blue, yellow, red.

"Air, earth, fire….water! That's it! Remus, you're a genius!"

Remus answered only with a muffled growl. He was gone again, his mind replaced by that of the creature. One minute remained on the timer.

Robert fumbled with the cryptex. There were four bands, four sets of symbols. Robert held the cryptex under a chink of moonlight, and lined up the symbols, top to bottom. Air…earth…fire…water.

Thankfully, the cryptex popped open. Robert glanced at the hourglass. Thirty seconds.

With a sinking feeling of dread mixed with disappointment, Robert pulled out the contents and held it up under the moonlight. Inside the cryptex was a vial of greenish blue liquid, somewhat translucent. It gave off an eerie glow.

Lupin growled again, as if fighting to regain consciousness. "That's wolfs….wolfsbane! Give it to me…growl…give it to me… growl, breath… NOW!" Lupin lunged forward and swiped his paw at Robert, the nails almost contacting Robert's chest.

"How?" asked Robert, "You'll take a chunk out of me if I get anywhere near you!"

"Roll it here. Quickly!" Ten seconds.

Robert complied. The vial rolled toward Lupin. It then rolled down a broken piece of floorboard, out of Lupin's reach. Lupin gave a roar of frustration, Robert yelled, "Damnit!" Five seconds.

"What do I do?" Robert eyed the room, desperate for a stick or a pole, or something to move the vial toward Lupin.

"Nothing!" Lupin yelled, sounding more human again. "I've… never tried this… without a wand… but I have… no… choice." Lupin brought himself up on his hind legs and pointed a razor sharp claw at the wolfsbane. He mustered up every ounce of humanity he had left in him. He intoned, clearly, "Accio, wolfsbane!"

The vial shot up from the floor. Lupin caught it between his two front paws. Two seconds. He crushed the vial, and licked hungrily at the substance now dripping down his paws and forelegs.

With a great creak, the chains gave way, releasing the werewolf. Lupin let out a deafening roar, his paws curled, the liquid still dripping, and his claws fully extended. Lupin lunged toward Langdon in a full pounce. All Langdon could do was duck and cover, waiting to feel the cut and tear of the immense talons in his vulnerable flesh.

Instead, Robert felt a rush of air against his bare arms, and heard a sickening thud. Robert looked up, his arms still curled around his face in a protective posture. The werewolf had fallen to the ground in a heap, and had changed back into a man.

Robert shuddered, exhaling an enormous sigh of relief. He swallowed, struggling to catch his breath. Another near miss. He relaxed his arms, sat up straight, and sank his head into his hand, his breaths still forced.

The man slowly lifted his head, and pushed himself up on his weakened elbows.

Robert stood up tremulously, and offered his hand to the man. "Professor Remus Lupin, I presume?"

"Yes," Lupin said weakly, as he stood. Robert saw in the moonlight that Lupin was for the most part, naked. "In the, er, flesh, unfortunately – amazingly."

Robert reached behind him and pulled one of the curtains from the window. "Here, wrap yourself in this."

"Thanks. Are you okay, Robert?" Lupin stared in amazement at his now human hands. "It's not supposed to do that," he muttered under his breath.

Robert did not hear him. "Yes, I'm fine. Still a little shaken up, but fine. I thought for a second there I was going to be wolf chow." Robert forced a small laugh.

"I'm sorry for that." Lupin sounded morose, still inspecting his hands and arms, and pulling his -- now significantly smaller – arms out of the wrist chains. He pulled the neck chain easily over his head and threw it to the floor.

Robert shrugged. "What happened? How did you get in here? Did anyone know you were in here?" Robert thought of Paolo, wondering to himself if he knew, but then shrugged it off. Paolo wouldn't have brought him here if he knew there was a werewolf.

"I don't know, but I wish I did." Lupin answered. He picked a large chunk of glass out of his mouth, and flicked it at the floor. "I was on my way to Dumbledore's office to see if I could be of assistance with the Cryptex. Next instant, I am laid out here, on the floor of the Shack, and there are chains around my ankles and my neck. There was a glass of wolfsbane in front of me. I drank it but it tasted odd, as if it had been watered down." Lupin coughed, and fished out yet another piece of glass.

"Obviously, it was," Robert said. "Obviously, whoever brought you here wanted you to change, to be dangerous enough to kill, but sane enough to realize, and maybe regret, what you did. And," Robert continued, looking at his watch, "whoever it was, wanted you loose at exactly ten minutes after midnight."

"I have no idea." Lupin's eyes flashed with sudden anger. "But I do not appreciate my…my affliction being used in this manner! I do not take kindly to being used as a weapon. I was used as such only once before, and I let James and Sirius know never to do it again. Whoever did this, knows me, and knows me well."

Robert recalled the first poem. "James Potter and Sirius Black?" Robert asked. "Is that Mr. Prongs and Mr. Padfoot?"

"Yes, my best mates from school. Prongs and Padfoot, but they're both…."

"Dead now, right?"

Remus' eyes looked suddenly sad. "Yes."

"So, you must be…Mr. Moony?"

"Yes. How did you know?"

Robert told Lupin about the first poem on the parchment, having committed it to memory.

Messrs. Padfoot and Prongs

Bled and died for their wrongs

Mr. Moony's oe'r crippled with grief.

Mr. Wormtail, the last, has fled from his past

And serves me, the Dark Lord, beneath.

"Merlin's Beard!" Lupin swore. "Not too many people know about those names, Robert. Wormtail, maybe Voldemort knows about, but the rest of us?"

"You use his real name?"

"Yes," replied Remus. "Fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself. There's no sense in mincing words. I only say You-Know-Who in front of other wizards. Can't stand the wincing and shuddering each time I say Voldemort!" Lupin continued. "Unless Wormtail told him – Wormtail's our other, well, former friend, Peter Pettigrew, but he turned traitor…" Lupin slumped to the floor. "He must know, then!"

"Know what?"

"Voldemort. He must know that James and Sirius were animagi, and he must know about my lycanthropy!"

"Animagi?" Robert joined Lupin on the floor.

"Wizards who can turn themselves, transfigure themselves into animals at will. Peter, Sirius, and James learned the magic for me…to keep me company during these monthly transformations. Peter became a rat, Sirius a dog, and James a stag. Thus the names."

Lupin seemed lost in thought. "Dumbledore knows. Harry knows. Hermione and Ron, too, but they'd never do anything like this, set me up this way. Even Snape knows, but as nasty as he is, would never do anything for Voldemort again. He is on our side."

Again? Robert felt a slight chill, remembering the words from the parchment. "A traitor such as yourself, Snivellus…"

But," Lupin continued, "if Wormtail told his master, that would explain things a little better. Someone working for or with Voldemort must know I'm a werewolf, and brought me here to..."

Robert understood. "To kill me. Whoever did this thought we'd never solve the Cryptex -- because of the misleading clues. More importantly, this person wanted leave you with the memory of doing it – cutting me to bits. But, the question remains. Why?"

Lupin shuddered, and got shakily to his feet. "Let's get out of here."

Chapter Eight

12:30 am – Hogwarts Grounds

It took a few moments for Lupin to regain full use of his reborn human legs, especially after standing for nearly two hours on what would have been the balls of his human feet. Lupin's legs were obviously wobbly and unsteady. Robert felt a great wash of sympathy for this man. Obviously, the transformation was painful, and it drained him utterly and completely. Thankfully, Robert thought, Lupin had his wolfsbane potion to, apparently, ease the suffering and soften the transformation each month.

"Wolfsbane," Robert muttered.

"What?" Lupin asked. "What about the wolfsbane?" Lupin began searching the room. As his legs were still not fully cooperating, Lupin's gait was now stiff and ungainly, not unlike that of an aged man.

"How do you get it – I mean the wolfsbane -- each month? Is it something you make yourself?"

Lupin shook his head. "No, Severus Snape – he's the potions master – he makes it for me. I've never had the ability with brewing potions that he does, and it is admirable. Wolfsbane potion is very complicated and rather messy to brew. In fact, when I taught here, years ago, Severus brewed it for me by the cauldronful, which was not an easy task. That wolfsbane too, the stuff in the cylinder there…it was especially potent, it seems."

Lupin sighed. "As much as we despise each other, I owe Severus so much, and I do not deserve any of it. In fact, I was on my way to Severus' dungeon to get my second dose for this evening -- I need two throughout the night -- when I was apparently ambushed."

"Strange, we all thought you had been killed – that you were the Gryffindor referred to in the poem. Your cloak and case and scarf – they were all bloodstained, and there was a pool of blood on the floor."

Lupin turned and showed Robert the inside of his arm. "I imagine whoever did this took the blood from there." Lupin pointed to an angry-looking gash in the crook of his left elbow. "As I was not free to roam tonight – and consequently to get in any scrapes or fights -- I can think of no other way that I would have obtained this sort of injury. Furthermore, this cut looks almost surgical, intentional."

Lupin turned his back to Robert and crouched down in the spot where he had been chained. He rose up again, his bones and muscles still audibly creaking and cracking. Robert cringed slightly at the sound. Lupin turned around again, and Robert could see that he was cradling what was left of his clothing – torn to shreds, apparently, in the transformation process.

Lupin sorted through the clothes. They were all damaged beyond use, and likely, beyond repair. Finally, Lupin held up a long, tattered cloak. Although the cloak had a large rend running lengthwise at the side seam, it was still functional enough for Lupin to wear. Again, with groaning bones and muscles, Lupin eased himself into the cloak, and fastened it, top, middle and bottom. "Better than a dusty old curtain." He smiled weakly.

Robert was at a loss for words. "I'm sorry, Remus."

"Don't think on it, Robert. None of this tonight was your fault." Remus smiled. "I was absent at dinner and did not hear your introduction. Am I to understand that you are filling my old position?"

Robert rolled his eyes slightly. "What position is that?"

"Four years ago, I taught Defense Against the…"

"Dark Arts?" Robert sighed. "If I had a nickel for each time I heard that tonight…but, no. I'm not a wizard – I'm a Muggle -- as you can probably tell. If I was a wizard, I assume I could have just abracadabra-ed or blasted my way out of here and away from you."

"Abracadabra…" Remus mused. "Be careful with that word, Robert. The true pronunciation of that particular spell is "Avada Kedavra."

Robert shook his head. "So?"

"Avada Kedavra is the intonation for the curse that kills. It is an unforgivable curse. Anyone who uses it and is caught faces a life sentence in Azkaban, the wizarding prison. And that, Robert, is a most horrible place." Remus stared, and then blinked. "I take it you met Harry Potter?"

"Yes, I met him on the train here, but why?"

"And since you know James Potter is dead, you also know that Voldemort killed him, and his wife," Remus' voice hitched slightly. "Lily Evans-Potter?"

"Yes." Robert feared where this was going.

"They, James and Lily, my friends, were killed with that very curse. I also believe that is the curse that took" Remus' voice hitched again, "Sirius Black's life -- but I did not completely see it happen. More importantly, that was also the very curse that backfired – from Harry Potter and left Voldemort powerless."

"I'll watch my words from now on." Robert sighed. "It's hard to be proper when things are so new – and so strange." In his tussle with the werewolf, Robert had completely forgotten his awkward, fish-out-of-water feelings. Now, they rushed back at him with gale force. Robert was again, put in his place.

"Understandable." Remus said with finality. "Now, let's get ourselves out of here and…"

"Remus, I should tell you. The poem – the clue – it said that Voldemort was coming – soon -- and that he going to bring something called dementors. I don't know about you, but from what I hear about them I don't think I have any way to defend myself against them."

Remus, surprisingly, showed no sign of shock or surprise whatsoever. In fact, Robert saw a tiny glimmer of excitement behind Remus' eyes, as if he was steeling himself for a great challenge. Admirable resolve, this man has!

"Stick close to me," Remus said. "I can drive them off. I also taught Harry Potter how to use the Patronus charm – that's what does it – gets rid of dementors. Also, from what I understand," Remus seemed to swell with a small amount of pride. "Harry has, in turn taught some of the other students – Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom, to name a few – how to use the charm with great success. Not to worry, Robert, we will be well defended."

Robert smiled. "You have a plan, Remus?"

"I'm not quite sure I do, but it is the best we have, isn't it?"

Robert chewed his bottom lip. "Remus, what do you teach now? Why are you at Hogwarts?"

"I have no teaching position at the moment. I was summoned here tonight. And when Hogwarts summons, one answers."

"Who summoned you?"

"Professor Dumbledore, on behalf of the interim Dark Arts teacher, Paolo Zabini."

"That's funny." Robert gave a slight chuckle.

"What is?" Remus cocked his head slightly. Robert shuddered inwardly as he heard Remus' neck bones crack with the sudden movement.

"Paolo -- he's an old friend of mine. He was one of my students at Harvard. I never knew until now that he was a wizard, of course. He's the one who, as you say, summoned me to Hogwarts, too. When he called, he told me he was inviting me up to his house in Hogsmeade for some rest. When I got here it turns out that I was thrust in the middle of this mystery."

Remus scowled. "Paolo told me that he needed my help in setting up a curriculum."

Both innocent enough, right? Strange though, that Paolo was the thread that now connected these two men, brought them both to Hogwarts, and directly into the line of danger. Robert could not banish the thought that it was Paolo who brought him to the Shrieking Shack and directly into the lair of the werewolf. But it was impossible. Paolo would never…he'd never purposefully put Robert in harm's way. Robert shook his head.

Having wasted too much time already, Remus fished in the cloak pocket and produced a wand. He aimed it squarely at the doorknob and said, "Alohamora." The knob jiggled and the door opened with a loud creak.

"Well," said Robert. "If I knew it was that easy…" He smiled.

"Robert," Remus breathed, "you may have to help me down the stairs. I am still very weak."

"No problem, Remus. Just lean on me."

Robert stood to Remus' right, and draped Remus' arms over his own shoulders. He then shifted his own weight, acting as an extra set of legs, or a set of crutches for Remus to support himself. "This should do it." Although Remus was heavy on Robert's shoulders, he resolved not to complain or to struggle. If there was anything Remus needed right now it was strength – both physically and emotionally -- and Robert, despite his own gnawing fear, was willing to give it up in spades.

Robert helped Remus down the stairs and out through the rear door of the shack. They stood in the middle of a quaint village, facing what appeared to be a main street, lined with now-closed shops, town buildings, homes, and restaurants. The only lights came from two pubs. One of them, Robert could see, was called the "Three Broomsticks."

"Where do we go, Remus?" Robert asked.

Remus took his weight off Robert's shoulder, and turned towards Hogwarts. Robert followed Remus' gaze. Every single window in the school was lit up. There was an intense glow coming from the Great Hall. Remus, his hand shading his eyes, was apparently searching the skies.

"What are you looking for?"

"Dementors, Robert. They fly – hover overhead searching for their prey." Remus lowered his hand. "I don't see any. If Voldemort was coming, as you say that poem said, and was bringing dementors, there would be an entire flock of them poring down on Hogwarts. Seeing none is very encouraging."

"So, Remus, what now?"

"We go back to Hogwarts."

With that, one of the Thestral coaches approached. Robert gawked. "Are they always this responsive?"

"Yes, in fact, they are. Climb in. It's the fastest way back."

Remus and Robert sat in silence in the Thestral coach, broken only occasionally by Remus' groans of pain when the coach hit a rock or a bump. By the time they arrived back at Hogwarts, Robert was almost feeling achy and sore himself in sympathy.

Robert helped Remus out of the carriage, and nearly carried him up the front steps to the entrance hall. Robert grasped the large knocker and rapped the door urgently. Hearing no response, Robert shouted through the crack between the doors.

"Paolo! Paolo are you there? It's me, Robert, and I have Remus Lupin! I found him! He's okay! Paolo!"

There was no answer. Robert knocked again.

"Paolo! Come on, man, open up! Please!" Robert turned to Lupin. "Can you do something, that aloha thing?"

"Alohamora? No, I can't," said Lupin. "Not on this door. Hogwarts is very well protected. You can't open the doors using any magic. You can't use magic to travel inside, either. It is even, theoretically, impossible for Voldemort to get inside!"

Robert raised a hand to knock again, and the door swung open. Robert found himself dragged inside by the collar by a large, muscular hand. The man's other arm wrapped easily around Remus' waist and carried him inside.

"Professor Lupin! I thought you was dead, I did! Oh, oh, it's so good to see you alive!" He gave Lupin a squeeze, and set him down gently. "Yer shouldn'a been wanderin' outside tonight, Professors, s'pecially you, Professor Lupin! I had orders not ta' let anyone in or out, but Professor Zabini said you was all okay to let in so I did and here ye are."

"Thanks, Hagrid," said Remus, who had collapsed in a heap on the floor. "Hagrid, this is Robert Langdon. Robert, Rubeus Hagrid."

Robert couldn't speak. "Uh, uh….hello." The man standing before him was – for lack of a better word – a giant. At least seven and a half feet tall and as wide as a Mack Truck – the man had a mass tangle of black hair and beard that utterly overwhelmed his entire face.

"No time fer introductions now, Professor Lupin," Hagrid barked. "You and Robert here, you'd best be getting' upstairs to Professor Dumbledore's office." Hagrid lifted Remus up gently, and shooed the two of them up the staircase.

"Mr. Hagrid," Robert said. "Where is Paolo Zabini?"

Hagrid wheeled around. "Well, he's right…." He was dumbstruck. "Well, he'as right there just a minnit ago, wasn't he? Well, innit that somethin'? He musta gone upstairs to tell Professor Dumbledore that you was okay, Professor Lupin!"

"Thanks, Mr. Hagrid," Robert said. He scooped under Lupin's right arm again, and ushered him up the staircase, down the hall, and to the entrance to Dumbledore's office. Lupin gave the password, and the statue spun to life.

Dumbledore was waiting for them at the oak doors. He ran – no – he sprinted, down the short hallway and caught Lupin in a fatherly embrace. "Remus, my boy." He held Remus out at arms length. "I am so relieved. So, incredibly relieved that you are well."

"Yes, Professor," Lupin sighed. "So am I. But Robert here was almost not as lucky. If it wasn't for our quick thinking, even with mine as muddled as it was, he would be the one who was dead, and not me."

"What do you mean?" Dumbledore ushered Robert and Remus into his office.

As Robert entered the office, he saw Paolo. Paolo was sitting in a window seat, eyeing the sky outside. Probably looking for dementors, too.

Remus continued, slumping into an overlarge armchair. "My wolfsbane. I was on my way to see Severus about tonight's second dose. That's when I was ambushed. When I awoke, there was wolfsbane for me, but it was diluted. Didn't work properly. It had some strange side effects, too…"

Paolo turned, in a panic. "Remus! Where were you when this happened? Where did you change?"

"Whoever knocked me out took me to the Shrieking Shack…"

"Dio mio!" Paolo exclaimed. "Robert! I had no idea! I thought it would be safe there! I knew Lupin used the shack each month while he was here, but I never…I never even knew he was here until we found…" Paolo crossed the room in three strides and threw his arms around Robert. "Delfino, Delfino! If I knew, I never would have brought you there! Grazie Dio you are alright! You could have been killed and it would have been all my fault!"

Paolo buried his face in Robert's robes. Robert heard the sounds of stifled sobs. He grasped Paolo's shoulders with a modicum of strength and pushed him gently away.

"Paolo, it's not your fault," Robert straightened Paolo's robes. "It is interesting, though. Whoever set up this little 'treasure hunt' somehow knew that I would end up face to face with Remus, here."

"Why do you say that?" Dumbledore asked, as he settled into his desk chair.

"Because, that second cryptex – Remus and I solved it just in time."

"What was inside?" Dumbledore leaned forward, his elbows on the desk.

Robert glanced at Remus, who was now struggling to stay awake. "Wolfsbane. A small, glass vial full of wolfsbane. If I hadn't opened the cryptex and found the wolfsbane, Remus here would have likely eaten me like so much chicken."

Remus gave an indignant snort, coughed, and removed yet another piece of glass from the inside of his cheek.

"Sorry." Robert said, shrugging.

"Was there anything else in the Cryptex?" Dumbledore stood and began pacing.

"You know, I didn't even look. I have it here, though." Robert took the cryptex out of his pocket, and opened it. Another piece of parchment fell out onto the floor and rolled under Dumbledore's desk. Robert bent to fetch it.

"Albus," said Remus, sleepily. "Have there been any signs of Voldemort coming? Any dementors?"

"None whatsoever, Remus," said Dumbledore, "and it is now nearly an hour past the allotted time. Paolo has been watching for quite some time now."

"So, Harry Potter – he's safe?"

"Yes, Remus, Harry is perfectly safe. He is probably up in Gryffindor Tower pacing the common room floor, itching to come down here and help, and trying to figure out some clever and crafty way to do so."

"Like father, like son." Remus yawned.

Robert retrieved the parchment and stood up. He unrolled it and read it aloud. It was another horribly-rhymed and mis-metered poem.

A monkshood brew is tried and true

For taming a werewolf's ire

So if you live to read this clue

You well- reasoned my earth, air, and fire.

One death per House, now nearly Mickey Mouse

I have taken as some payment due

The full vision Trelawney thus did espouse

I shall no longer need to pursue.

My old servant awaits, and his patience abates

As his own house is now left to chance

So, if now by three, word does not come to me

A Slytherin shall with death dance.

Remus scowled. "Mickey Mouse?"

"I think that referred to me. My watch. It has Mickey Mouse on it." Robert leaned over and showed Remus his timepiece. "Clever of him, eh?" Inwardly, Robert wondered with worry as to how You-Know-Who/Lord Voldemort would know about such a small detail as his Mickey Mouse watch, especially if this was supposedly written long before Robert arrived at Hogwarts – long before anyone knew that Robert would even be coming!

"So," said Robert, continuing. "At last we know what he's really after." Robert glanced sideways at Dumbledore, who nodded his head. "The prophecy. He wants to hear the rest of the prophecy." Robert rolled the parchment and slipped it into the pocket of his robes.

"The prophecy?" Remus asked. "You mean that prophecy Voldemort heard of before he attacked Harry? There's more to it than that?" Dumbledore nodded. Remus frowned. "I take it you're not going to tell us what it is."

Robert, whose gaze had accidentally fallen on Paolo, first noticed that Paolo did not react to the name, "Voldemort." Then, even more curious, he saw his old friend's muscles tighten ever so slightly in anticipation of Dumbledore's answer to Remus' question.

"I am sorry, Remus, but I cannot." Dumbledore smiled, and looked at both Remus and Paolo. "You know I trust you both implicitly. Especially now, I simply cannot chance divulging this secret to anyone else."

"Who else knows?" asked Remus.

"Other than myself?" Robert silently prayed that Dumbledore would not say his name, or those of Hermione and Ron. "Harry Potter and one other, who shall remain unnamed," Dumbledore lied.

"So, then," Paolo crossed in front of the desk and leaned the upper part of his leg on the corner. "Who is the old servant – obviously, from the poem, he is in Slytherin House."

Remus looked horrified. "There's only one person I can think of at Hogwarts who fits that description."

Dumbledore looked equally as horrified, and his features became steely with a mixture of resolve and incredible disappointment – almost to the point of betrayal. "Paolo. Please go and fetch Severus Snape. Please tell him to come to my office immediately."