Chapter Thirty-Nine: Hopkirk's Story

Hermione was the first to break from the group; she burst into tears and ran to the front of the Great Hall, right into Hagrid's embrace. Ron and Ginny hurried after her, and Hagrid, giving a booming laugh, hugged them both in turn.

Harry followed in a daze; he could hardly believe that Hagrid was back, after being away so long.

'Harry!' Hagrid cried, and tears began to leak from his beetle-black eyes; he pulled Harry into a bone-crunching hug. Harry felt himself lifted off his feet.

'I'm so happy to see ye!' Hagrid said, laughing and crying at the same time.

'Me...too...' Harry gasped. 'Hagrid...can't...breathe...'

'Oh, sorry!' said Hagrid, letting go of Harry and setting him down.

'Hagrid, where have you been?' Hermione asked. 'We've been so worried about you, there was no word, nobody would tell us anything--'

'Now, Hermione,' said Hagrid, leaning in and lowering his voice conspiratorially, 'I can' discuss that now. Come by the house tomorrow at lunchtime, and I'll tell ye everything.'

'Does this mean you're our teacher?' Ron asked eagerly.

''Course it does!' said Hagrid, beaming, as he wiped his eyes. 'Wilhelmina tol' me yer workin' on Spiketails. Well, I've got somethin' even better!'

'That's great, Hagrid,' said Harry, forcing a smile, because generally speaking 'better' creatures meant creatures more lethal.

'You lot,' said Professor McGonagall sternly, 'go eat your supper. Hagrid and I have things to discuss.'

'Yes, Professor,' said Hermione, who was practically glowing. Ron gripped her hand and tugged her along, grinning, as Hagrid sat down heavily next to McGonagall at the Head Table.

Harry was so relieved, so pleased at Hagrid's return that he hardly noticed the scowls from the Slytherin table, or the looks of disappointment on the other students' faces. In fact, Harry decided, he didn't care if Hagrid had brought a chimaera back with him. All that mattered was that Hagrid was back, and safe, and that finally, something was looking up.

'Have a seat, Potter.'

Harry swallowed as he sat down in a chair in the center of Professor Hopkirk's office. The room had been cleared of furniture, save for that chair and a cauldron, which simmered over a magical blue fire. The smell of copper was in the air. It was the smell of blood.

Hermione was standing next to Hopkirk, wearing a heavy apron and leather gloves; she had left dinner early to join Hopkirk in what Hermione called 'final preparations' for the first round of tests.

Tests. Involving me. Drinking this stuff.

'You two,' said Hopkirk, nodding at Ginny and Ron, 'wands out.'

'Okay,' said Ginny slowly, and she withdrew her wand slowly from her robe pocket.

'Why?' said Ron.

'In case something goes wrong,' said Hopkirk calmly. 'This potion packs quite a punch; Potter won't know his own strength, if the tests on the mice proved anything.'

'Please, Professor,' said Ginny nervously. 'What exactly...does this potion do? I mean, what's the principle behind it?'

Hopkirk smiled her eerie smile, and turned to Hermione.

'Perhaps you'd care to explain it to them, Miss Granger,' she said.

Hermione nodded and licked her lips eagerly, and looked directly at Harry.

'Well, you know remember Professor Hopkirk and your mother were looking for a potion that was as powerful as Sanguen generare--blood sacrifice. A potion that could protect the drinker even against the Killing Curse,' Hermione explained.

Harry nodded. 'I remember.'

'Your blood is powerful,' said Hermione. 'Because of your mother's protection. Because of her blood sacrifice. That protection is still there--it lasts for your whole lifetime--but we don't know how strong it is anymore, if it could withstand another Killing Curse thrown by Voldemort.'

She paused, took a deep breath, and looked at Professor Hopkirk, who nodded.

'The potion we've been working on,' said Hermione, 'that is, Professor Hopkirk, Professor Snape and I, hopes to negate the need for Sanguen generare altogether. The theory is that if we can harness the power of the ancient spell through a potion, the drinker will be fully protected, and no other blood sacrifice will be needed.'

She glanced at Ron, who was standing quietly with his arms folded across his chest. He wasn't looking at her, but at the cauldron.

Harry watched Hermione gaze at Ron for a moment; there was concern etched in her features, but then she felt Harry's gaze on her, and she cleared her throat and continued.

'The thing is,' she said, 'Voldemort's trying to do the same thing.'

'What do you mean?' Harry asked.

'He's trying to find a way around blood protection spell,' said Hermione. 'Using the same principles as us, but...in reverse, if you will. Our potion contains blood freely given by all of us. Voldemort is taking blood forcibly from his victims. Blood that is freely given is marked by love. Blood that is forcibly taken is marked by fear and hatred. We believe he is trying to create a potion that will block the effects of the ancient blood spell.'

'But...wait,' said Harry. 'He took my blood, and...it's...it's got this blood protection on it, right? It's not marked by hatred--'

'Your blood is a special case,' said Professor Hopkirk. 'Lily's sacrifice marked it forever, as we've said. We must assume that Anthony Goldstein and Pansy Parkinson had no such magic applied to them. Particularly in Anthony's case, being that he is a Muggle-born, his parents are both living, and in any case, wouldn't know of ancient magic anyway.'

'So...he's trying to create a potion,' said Ginny slowly, 'so that if he hits Harry with the Killing Curse--'

'The curse will work,' said Hopkirk. 'He's operating on the same theory as we are: that a potion, based in blood, can be render the drinker more powerful than even the most ancient and potent of spells.'

'He's weak, though, isn't he?' said Ron. 'That's why he's kidnapping people, to get their blood.'

'Yes,' said Hopkirk. 'Harry's blood flows in Voldemort's veins. This puts us at a distinct advantage. Voldemort must not only create a potion that can overcome Sanguen generare in the abstract; he must make that potion strong enough to destroy the effects of Sanguen genarare in his own body. Harry has no such infection. His blood is already strong.'

For a long time, nobody said a word. Harry tried to absorb everything, but he was still, admittedly, a bit confused. He decided that rather than dwell on the particular theories, to ask a more direct question.

'What does this potion do when I drink it?' he asked.

'It's rather like a booster,' said Hermione. 'Theoretically the potion strengthens the organs and the cells and helps them resist damage. The drinker's magic and overall physical strength is also boosted.'

'The effect is temporary,' said Hopkirk. 'Very temporary, I'm afraid. The longest we've been able to make the effects of a single dose of the potion last was just under ten minutes. Not nearly long enough.'

'Can't I just take a higher dose, then?' said Harry.

'No,' said Hermione. 'Anything higher than the dose we're about to give you could be dangerous.'

'That's not to say we can't increase the dosage over time,' said Hopkirk. 'But you will need to adapt to it gradually.'

Hermione made a noise in her throat and pursed her lips.

'Ah,' said Hopkirk. 'Well, Miss Granger and I disagree on the issue of dosage. She is trying to come up with a single time-released dose. I have long maintained that such a thing is impossible.'

Hermione started to protest, but Hopkirk held up a hand and continued.

'But I am never too proud to be proven wrong,' she said, 'and Miss Granger has been given permission to seek out this alternative.'

'A time-released dose would provide sustained, controllable power for up to twelve hours, with fewer side effects, and it wouldn't be as hard on the body when the potion wears off,' said Hermione.

'Theoretically,' said Hopkirk coolly. 'In the meantime, let's get started with what we have. Potter, are you ready?'

Harry swallowed.

Not really.

'Yeah, sure, I guess,' he lied.

'Miss Granger,' said Hopkirk, gesturing to Hermione, who dipped a small flask into the gently simmering cauldron. She measured out a small, precise dose. The potion itself was thickly viscous and crimson and seemed to glow from within. The smell of copper became more pronounced.

'Here,' said Hermione, handing Harry the flask. 'Drink all of it,' she added, 'and slowly.'

Harry nodded and took the flask.

'Everyone stand back,' Hopkirk ordered, as Harry tipped the flask to his lips.

The silence in the room was charged as Harry downed the potion in a series of long, slow gulps. The initial taste on his tongue was the awful, coppery taste of blood, but the aftertaste was surprisingly sweet and clean. And yet, he found himself having to breathe heavily through his nose as the potion slid thickly down his throat.

He drained the flask and lowered it to find everyone else staring at him, their wands out, their faces anxious. Harry almost chuckled, but for several seconds, no one said a word.

'Well?' Hermione asked finally, her voice cutting the air like a knife.

Harry considered. For a potion that was supposed to make him stronger than Voldemort, he didn't feel all that different.

'I don't know,' he said. 'It doesn't seem to be doing--'

His attempt to finish his sentence died when the flask shattered in his hand.

Ginny and Hermione gave little shrieks as the glass splintered; Harry felt the warm trickle of blood on his hand, but in the next instant, he felt a surge, like electricity, course through his body. His scar flared painfully and he cried out, dropping shards of glass onto the floor. His hand dripped blood, and the pain...

'Harry!' Ginny cried, and her voice sounded oddly distant. Harry saw her start towards him but Hopkirk gripped her by the shoulder and barked, 'Stay back!'

Ginny obeyed, clutching her wand.

And then Harry heard more voices. Ron, Hermione, Ginny again...but that couldn't be, they were all in front of him, staring at him, fearful and wordless. And yet they were talking to him, Harry could hear them, and their voices were warm, so very warm...there was no more pain…

And then there were more voices. Hagrid, Tonks, Lupin, Dumbledore...

Dumbledore? That's impossible, he's dead...

But Dumbledore was talking to Harry, and then...so was Sirius, and James and Lily. They were all talking to him, and suddenly he saw them, plain as day, and they were all smiling at him, and Sirius was laughing his bark-like laugh, and they were still talking. Harry couldn't make out what they were saying, only that it was good, and Sirius's laugh was like music, and Dumbledore's eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles, and James and Lily were clinging to each other...

And Ron was there, and suddenly Harry was eleven, on the Hogwarts' Express for the first time, and he and eleven-year-old Ron were eating sweets and laughing; and then they were in the common room, just after they'd rescued Hermione from the troll; they had saved the Philosopher's Stone; Ginny was walking down the girls' staircase on Halloween night; she was sixteen and beautiful and dressed in white...

And...no, it couldn't be...it was. Hopkirk was there, smiling down at him, and it was a real smile, it was a smile he had never before in his life seen, not ever. She looked almost human; her clear blue eyes were sparkling with tears, and she spoke...he could hear her speak, her voice was warm, a good kind of warm...

'He's got your eyes, Lily.'

The images were lightning-fast, but Harry saw all of them clearly, sharply, and the happiness he felt was so complete, he felt tears in his eyes.

And then Harry felt something else entirely, layering itself on top of all this warmth and unadulterated joy.

Power. Not the kind of power he had felt in the past, when he was angry or scared. This was different: frightening, and yet Harry never wanted the feeling to end.

'Harry, look at me!'

Professor Hopkirk's voice penetrated the chorus of other voices in his mind; her voice was different this time, and Harry looked at her, she was there in front of him, solid and made of flesh and bone.

And in that moment she snarled, and her eyes flashed red, and her skin glowed, and she bared her fangs and lifted her left hand, that held her wand, and bellowed, in her unearthly demon voice: 'Crucio!'

Ginny and Hermione both screamed as the curse flew toward Harry; Harry grabbed clumsily for his wand to block it, but from somewhere far away his mother was talking to him, and he suddenly knew it would be okay, and he lowered the wand in his hand as the curse touched him...

It vanished with a flash of light and a rush of air so strong it sent Ron, Hermione and Ginny all stumbling backwards; only Hopkirk was able to stay rooted.

'Harry!' she called again, now in her normal, human form, with her normal, human voice. 'Disarm us!'

Harry raised his wand again, but Hopkirk shook her head and made a sweeping gesture with her right arm. Harry put his wand away and it was then that he noticed he was feeling something new: a strange, almost eerie calmness. His joy was nothing short of serene.

He lifted his right hand, copying the gesture Hopkirk had made, and yelled 'Expelliarmus!'

There was another rush of air, and Ron gave a yells as his wand, along with Hermione's, Ginny's and Hopkirk's went flying away from them.

Hopkirk gave a triumphant shout.

'You see, Harry!' she yelled, her voice again penetrating the cacophony of beautiful voices in his mind. 'You see how it works?'

'Yes!' Harry cried, laughing uproariously. He had never felt so perfectly happy in all his life, so very--

His scar flared and he cried out as the pain squeezed him, and new voices came, unfamiliar ones. They were angry voices. Cold voices. Sad, desperate voices and their emptiness, their despair competed with the warm, happy voices in Harry's mind...

And then, new images: a cold, grey stone building in the middle of a squalid urban neighborhood that may or may not have been London...small boys in grey trousers and pressed white shirts standing next to neatly made cots...a stern, mean-looking man walking through the room, along the aisles of beds, glaring at the boys...the man had a rattan cane in his right hand, and he was tapping it against his left palm...a small, sullen-faced boy with black hair and glittering dark eyes...on the boy's tiny nightstand, a photograph, an unmoving, black and white photograph of a woman with shining long hair and a beautiful, open face...she was smiling...

And then there was another face, an impossibly pale, stretched, reptilian face with red slits for eyes and a gaping mouth, open in a silent scream...

'NO!'

The wave of power dissolved like an ocean wave crashing into Harry, and he collapsed onto his knees. It was over. The power, the joy, the hate, the warmth, the emptiness...

'Harry,' Ginny whimpered, and she crashed to the floor beside him, reaching for him.

'Don't...' he croaked, backing away from her. It would be too much for her, he knew it. Ginny bit her lip and tried again.

'Don't touch him,' Hopkirk snapped, stepping in front of Ginny. Ginny looked up at Hopkirk with a mixture of anger and desperation, but she backed away and stood up.

Harry looked up at Ginny, imploring her with his eyes to understand. He knew what she would have done, she would have tried to take away some of his exhaustion, but it would be too much for her now. Something about what he'd just experienced told him that Ginny wouldn't be able to handle this without getting badly hurt in the process. She looked at him long and hard, and nodded.

'How do you feel, Potter?' Hopkirk asked, her voice all business.

'Like shit,' said Harry bluntly, although that was putting it mildly. He felt, in fact, like he'd been playing Quidditch non-stop for a week.

'I'm okay,' he added insistently, when Hermione began to worry her hands. He got up slowly, every muscle in his body protesting. His knees started to give way, but Hopkirk was there, holding him up with her preternatural strength. The unpleasant heat she gave off might have otherwise made him shudder, but Harry was too drained to move.

After half a minute in which nobody spoke, Harry finally began to feel his strength returning.

'Better?' Hopkirk asked, stepping away from him.

'Yeah,' he managed, wiping his sweaty brow with the sleeve of his robes.

'Tell us how you felt,' said Hopkirk briskly, 'while you were under the influence.'

Harry looked at Ginny, and then at Ron and Hermione, and finally at Hopkirk.

'Powerful,' he said. 'And happy. Ridiculously happy, like...like someone had hit me with ten Cheering Charms or something. I heard voices...my mum and dad, Dumbledore, Sirius, and...'

Harry's voice drifted off for a moment, as he remembered something. 'All of you,' he finished. 'You were all talking to me.' He nodded to Ginny and the others, but settled his gaze on Hopkirk, who, for the first time that night, looked rather uncomfortable.

'What else?' she said, as if in an effort to get the conversation moving along.

'You were all talking,' he said, pinning Hopkirk with his gaze. 'And laughing and smiling. And I saw images, from the past. Good images, good...memories.'

Hopkirk, who had kept her eyes away from Harry, exchanged glances with Hermione, who looked troubled.

'You cried out in pain,' she said in a fretful voice. 'What was that?'

Harry closed his eyes for a moment; he didn't want to remember all the bad things he'd seen and felt, and yet, he knew he'd have to give the full accounting.

'I heard these other voices,' he said. 'I dunno who they were. Everything was cold, all of a sudden. And sad. I mean...really, really sad...and angry. And I saw this place...an old building...it was cold and there was a man, a cruel-looking man...he had this whip in his hand, and there were all these boys...one of them...a black haired boy...he had a photograph on his nightstand, a Muggle photo...'

Harry's voice trailed off again, as the revelation hit him.

'It was Tom Riddle,' he said. 'As a child. And then...Voldemort.'

For a moment, nobody said a word; again, the silence was so complete it seemed deafening.

Hopkirk was staring at him now, her blue eyes wide.

'What?' she managed. Indeed, Harry had never seen her look so amazed.

'I saw Tom Riddle,' he said, and then he felt suddenly nervous. 'What? Is that bad?'

Hermione and Hopkirk looked at each other again.

'This is...unexpected,' Hopkirk said.

'Unexpected,' said Hermione, logical.'

'Well, yes,' Hopkirk conceded. 'In fact, I can't believe either one of us didn't consider this...'

'We just didn't make that simple connection,' said Hermione, sounding frustrated. 'Oh! And it was completely obvious--'

'Hello!' Ron interrupted. 'Do either of you mind explaining what you're talking about?'

Hopkirk shot Ron a hard glare, and Ron swallowed.

'That is,' he amended, 'would you please inform Ginny and me--'

'--and me,' Harry interjected.

'--of what you are discussing,' Ron finished. 'Please. Professor.'

'Your connection with Voldemort,' said Hopkirk, looking at Harry. She ran a hand over her hair, looking irritated with herself. 'Of course. Harry, what you saw--those images of Voldemort's childhood as Tom Riddle--those were not things you should have seen.'

'Why not?' said Harry, now thoroughly confused.

'The potion is only supposed to show you images of your own life,' said Hermione. 'And only good images, and it should only be eliciting positive emotional reactions that relate directly to your past and present. By right, you shouldn't be seeing anything that has to do with Voldemort at all.'

'But you did,' said Hopkirk.

'And that's bad?' said Harry, but this seemed like a stupid question, because after all, when was anything related to Voldemort ever good?

'Actually, no,' said Hopkirk, taking a deep breath. She seemed to have calmed down a bit. 'We didn't even account for this, we were so focused on the success of the potion in the first place, after so many failed earlier attempts. But no, what happened isn't necessarily bad. In fact, this development is...very positive.'

'How do you reckon?' Ron asked.

'If Harry can tap into Voldemort's thoughts,' said Hopkirk, 'theoretically, he can use those images against him.'

'Really?' said Harry doubtfully.

'Of course,' said Hermione. 'Harry, don't you remember? All those times Voldemort got inside your head, tried to control you? He used pain and...and despair to weaken your defenses, didn't he? He filled your mind with as much agony as he could.'

'I remember,' said Harry darkly.

At this, Ginny gave a gasp. 'He'll try to do it again,' she breathed. 'He'll try to weaken Harry enough to kill him, just like he did, only now...he'll have a potion.'

'One that is the mirror image of this one,' said Hermione. 'Only his potion will have...the power of hate, I suppose. And anger and despair.'

Hopkirk held up her hand. 'Before we get too excited, we have to assume that if we know what Voldemort is up to, he knows what we're up to. Be it through...this spy in the school--'

'Or because he got a glimpse of it just now,' said Harry.

'So, what, Voldemort was testing his potion at the same time as Harry, just now?' said Ron dubiously.

Hopkirk shook her head. 'Of course not. He wouldn't have to test it--the potion itself heightens emotions. Harry and Voldemort share an emotional connection. All Voldemort had to do was sit there to detect some level of what Harry was feeling.'

'But if Harry saw into Voldemort's past,' said Hermione, 'then it means that just testing that potion must have caused him some level of pain. Don't you see? Voldemort might have been weak but he's been strong enough for a while to block Harry out completely, hasn't he, Harry? You've been trying Legilimency for months and you've gotten nowhere. But tonight you get a dose of the potion and it expands everything you're feeling into this...this pure energy and power. And suddenly you're seeing into his life.'

'Which means he saw into yours, and since he can't tolerate...the kinder emotions, he was hurt enough to let down his guard,' said Hopkirk.

'That's good, then,' said Harry.

'Yes,' said Hopkirk, 'but you do realize what this means. The testing of this potion will have consequences for you that Miss Granger and I hadn't considered. Apart from the extreme physical exhaustion, you risk opening yourself to Voldemort at a distance. Just as you collect information on him, he'll collect information on you. And he will use it to his advantage.'

Hermione let out a frustrated sigh. 'We'd better not test this again, then, until we can find a way to block Voldemort from getting access. We'll have to tweak the potion.'

'Wait,' said Harry. 'This potion gave me all this power, right? It worked. I mean, I blocked Crucio just...standing there and I did wandless magic like it was nothing.'

'But Harry...' Ginny began.

'Look,' Harry said, addressing Hopkirk. 'You yourself said I need to adapt to this stuff gradually, right? Well, how can I do that if you stop testing it on me?'

'But Harry, if Voldemort can see your thoughts--'

'So I'll use Legilimency,' said Harry. 'And Occlumency, too. I'm good at both. I can try and get inside his head and block him out of mine. I'll do it while I'm under the influence of the potion. I've got all this extra power, right? I should be able to do Legilimency and Occlumency without any trouble.'

Hermione made a small sound in her throat; Ginny, at last, took his hand and squeezed it, and Harry felt concern radiating out of her skin. Ron, for his part, simply looked bewildered by it all. As though he understood all that was being said, and it had overwhelmed him.

'What you propose is incredibly risky,' said Hopkirk. 'The potion is stimulating the areas of the brain that control happiness and memory. Certain chemicals are released on a normal basis when one is happy or thinking of good memories. The output of those chemicals jump sharply due to the potion. But Legilimency activates different chemicals in the brain--chemicals that might conflict. And Occlumency activates a third set of chemicals within the brain. The effects of both while under the influence of the potion could be damaging, if not downright dangerous.'

'But what other choice do I have?' Harry asked. 'We don't know who the spy is, but at least we know that he or she has to sneak around and get past certain things in order to report back to Voldemort. I need to test this potion regularly in order to get stronger, but if I do it without protecting myself--without using Occlumency--I'm giving Voldemort a direct line into…whatever plans we make.'

'It would take a tremendous toll on you,' said Hopkirk.

'I've had Voldemort in my head for seven years,' said Harry, 'and I've faced him almost as many times. I've got to destroy him. He might be weak but that doesn't mean he can't finish me off. I've got to do this.'

He looked at Ginny, who was gazing at him with worry.

'I've got to,' he added, hoping that she understood.

Hopkirk and Hermione exchanged another look.

'There's no dissuading him, I presume,' said Hopkirk.

'No,' said Hermione, looking at Harry with a mixture of annoyance and admiration.

'Very well,' said Hopkirk at last. 'I think we've all seen enough for tonight. Miss Granger, you will, I trust, add the results to your copious notes?'

'Yes, Professor,' said Hermione.

'Right then,' said Hopkirk. 'You're all free to go. We'll revisit this again next week, same time.'

Ron took Hermione's hand; he looked anxious to leave.

'Come on,' he muttered. Ginny started to follow them out, and Harry was right behind her, but he turned back to see Hopkirk re-arranging her office and was reminded again of what he'd seen when he'd been under the influence of the potion.

'You go on ahead,' he told the others, 'and I'll catch up.'

'But…Harry…' said Ginny hesitantly.

'I'll catch up,' Harry repeated, and he took her hands in his and gave them a gentle squeeze. She was so worried for him; he smiled at her and tried to reassure her silently, through the touch of his skin on hers, and then he felt her relax, if just slightly.

'Okay,' she said. 'I'll see you back in the common room.'

And with that, she, Ron and Hermione left.

Harry turned back to Hopkirk. She was apparently so focused on levitating her desk back into place that Harry figured she didn't realize he was still there. But then she spoke.

'I thought I told you you could go, Potter,' she said, not turning around as she levitated her chair into place.

'I need to talk to you,' Harry said, with more conviction than he actually felt.

She turned and faced him, looking impassive, and yet here eyes flickered away from him.

'What about?'

'I saw you,' he said, approaching her desk slowly. 'When I was…under the potion. You spoke, you were talking to my mother. You said I had her eyes.'

Hopkirk let out a breath and gave him an annoyed look. 'Yes,' she said. 'And that's important because…why?'

'Who are you?' Harry demanded, feeling a rush of frustration. 'Seriously. I know you were friends with my mum. I know why you didn't tell me who you were beforehand. Or at least I think I knew. But…you saw me when I was a baby. Where? In hospital? In my parents' house? How is it you were so close to my mum and nobody, not even Sirius, even mentioned you?'

Hopkirk gazed at Harry for a long moment, and her blue eyes darkened slightly. He realized that she was sad. She turned away from him.

'It was agreed,' she said at last, 'that nobody would tell you about me.'

'What do you mean?' Harry asked. He felt a sudden tension in the air, a shift that had nothing to do with the way Hopkirk was rocking back and forth on her heels.

'Before you were born, your mother approached me with a question,' she said. 'A favor. James had already asked Sirius, you see, and Lily felt it was only proper…'

Her voice trailed off, and she turned and looked at Harry; Harry felt his stomach drop out from beneath him.

'You…my mum…she asked you…' he stammered. 'Are you…my godmother?'

Hopkirk smiled wryly. 'No,' she said. 'But it wasn't for a lack of your mother asking.'

Harry stared at Hopkirk. 'Why?' he finally managed. 'Why would my mother--'

'Ask a succubus to be her only son's godmother?' Hopkirk finished. She laughed bitterly. 'Lily Evans Potter was the kindest woman, the kindest person I ever knew. The bravest, the most principled. But she was a damn fool about certain things.'

Hopkirk paused; she seemed to be gathering herself to continue.

'Your mother had blinders on where I was concerned,' she said at last. 'She couldn't understand that there was nothing she could do to…to unmake what I was.'

'I don't understand,' said Harry.

'Do you know how your mother and I became friends?' said Hopkirk. 'Have you never wondered how your mother could have become friends with someone like me?'

'The thought did cross my mind,' Harry admitted.

Hopkirk smiled at him again; it was a smile devoid of mirth.

'I came back to England just after finishing school,' she said. 'I won't bore you with the nearly operatic tragedy that was my childhood. Suffice it to say that a child like myself wasn't made to be loved by a mother. She rejected me the moment I left the womb. I spent my childhood in a Ministry facility for half-breed children of...difficult disposition. It was determined by those in charge that I should not go to Hogwarts; the Board of Governors would not have wanted a demon child in their midst. Dumbledore tried to intervene--like your mother he had soft ideas about people. But Durmstrang was only too happy to take me.'

'You...you learned the Dark Arts there,' said Harry.

'Yes,' said Hopkirk. 'I learned how to use dark magic. I was quite astute at it, in fact. In retrospect Durmstrang was the best place for me. I was...well, not exactly happy, but content enough there. My...background was kept quiet; only a few select teachers and the headmaster knew. But those who did know were thrilled to have such a capable student. I was only a child when Voldemort started his campaign of amassing his army of Death Eaters and dark creatures. I was still in school when I was...approached by a teacher, a Death Eater who has since met an unfortunate but not altogether surprising end.'

'You were recruited,' Harry said, feeling his gut twist at this revelation.

'Oh, yes,' said Hopkirk. 'Voldemort wanted people like me on his side, you see. A dark creature, and someone like me--angry at the world, lonely, bitter...People like me hated wizarding society, the way it discriminated against our kind. I was a ripe target for someone like Voldemort.

'I worked for him for almost a year, in Romania. He wanted as many dark creatures on his side as he could get. Giants, vampires, werewolves, demons. Did you know, Potter, that vampires and werewolves are natural enemies? It's true. And yet Voldemort wanted them, both species, on his side. There were whole werewolf colonies in Eastern Europe--underground societies that promote bloodsport and the hunting of humans--and of course there's never been a shortage of vampires in that region, either. Voldemort made them grandiose promises of power and territory if they agreed to put aside their age-old feud and work for him. I helped to recruit them.'

She paused and looked away; she appeared, for a moment, to be lost in memories.

'What happened,' Harry asked slowly, 'to make you...change sides?'

'That is personal,' said Hopkirk, her voice hard. 'But it was terrible enough for me to realize that supporting Voldemort's cause was something I could no longer do. Of course, I couldn't just hand in my resignation. I fled Romania and came back to England, and I sought out Dumbledore.'

'And he helped you,' said Harry.

'Of course,' said Hopkirk. 'Dumbledore had always had a thing about second chances.'

Harry pursed his lips and thought of Snape, and of Hagrid. 'Yeah, I know,' he said. 'What did Dumbledore have you do?'

'He introduced me to your mother,' said Hopkirk. 'Do you know what she did when she was alive, when she was working for the Ministry?'

'She was an Unspeakable,' said Harry. 'Her letters...and those messages, those codes she exchanged with you...she was doing some kind of bloodwork.'

'Do you know why?'

'To do what you and Hermione have done,' said Harry.

'It was more than that,' said Hopkirk. 'She was trying to recruit dark creatures.'

Harry felt his stomach plummet again.

'That's impossible.'

'I assure, it's not,' said Hopkirk. 'Dumbledore knew then, as he did this time around, that Voldemort would actively seek out an army of dark creatures. Dumbledore was determined, as much as he could, to get some of those dark creatures on his side. He'd lost the giants by then, they were working for Voldemort and tearing apart small villages all throughout Eastern Europe and Asia, killing everything in their paths; the goblins weren't helping out much; the werewolves were all in hiding, and vampires...the ones who hadn't joined up with Voldemort were underground. He'd tried to reach out to them but they didn't trust a human, and anyway, sending a human, even an armed one, into a coven of vampires, even ones who weren't on Voldemort's side--is a foolish thing to do. Your mother never would have lasted five minutes in a vampire's cave. So he had me to go to them. Ironic, isn't it? I was doing the same job, but for Dumbledore instead.

'I must admit, it wasn't what I had in mind,' she continued. 'I came back to England with grandiose thoughts of vengeance. But Dumbledore made me his messenger to the vampires in and around London, and I saw something in them that I had never seen before.'

'What?'

'Desperation,' said Hopkirk. 'Do you know what life is like for a vampire? He is constantly hungry. No amount of blood will ever fully satisfy him. The longer a vampire goes without feeding, the weaker he gets. He can never look into the sunlight, or feel it on his skin. He can never taste food...he only cares for blood. There is no rest for him, no peace. That is what I found. These vampires didn't want power. They wanted salvation.'

Harry swallowed. 'But...I thought...there's no way to...I mean, no cure...you'd have to kill a vampire--'

'To give him peace?' said Hopkirk. 'Yes, that's what I thought. But your mother had other ideas. She thought she could come up with a way to reverse vampirism. To lift the curse of the undead.'

'No kidding,' said Harry weakly. Nothing in his parents' letters, or the codes, even hinted at this. Harry had always assumed his mother's research was for the benefit of humankind, not vampires. And then something occurred to him.

'The Ministry knew about this?' he asked.

'Of course not, are you mad?' Hopkirk scoffed. 'The Ministry, trying to cure vampires? As far as the Ministry was concerned, and still is, vampires are to be feared and held in contempt. They'd no sooner waste resources on curing them than they would on seeking a cure for lycanthropy. No, your mother's work was for the Order. She came upon it by accident, too--her official work was on blood diseases. That's why Dumbledore approached her. Since blood is everything to vampires--blood is what creates them, makes them what they are--he thought perhaps Lily could come up with something to help the vampires.

'I was her entry into their world; they trusted me. I wasn't one of them but I was still an outcast like them. Demons and vampires have a...natural affinity, if you will. I collected blood samples from them and brought the samples to her, for testing, for manipulation. I helped her in her research. There was never any shortage of volunteers, either. These vampires...they thought if they could go back to being fully human, if they could be normal, then the laws and society wouldn't punish them anymore. Dumbledore had been trying to get the laws dealing with magical creatures changed, but the Ministry wasn't interested, not with Voldemort out there wreaking havoc. This was an alternative. If the laws couldn't be changed, then perhaps vampires could be.'

'Wow,' said Harry. 'That's...insane. My mum...and my dad never knew?'

Hopkirk shook her head. 'It was a pre-condition of Lily being able to take on the project in the first place. She couldn't tell James. It was for his own safety, too, and rest assured, there were secrets he kept from her, too, for the same reason. I'd tell you what they were, but I didn't know your father well enough for him to confide in me; Sirius Black was his confessor. In any case, secrecy was vital, and your mother took a tremendous risk. Had the Ministry found out what she was doing, she would have been sacked and arrested.'

Harry let out a breath. It was overwhelming, all this information. He thought back to the coded messages, those brief, cryptic missives his mother and Hopkirk had shared.

'She tested your blood, too,' he said suddenly. 'I remember.'

Hopkirk looked away. 'Yes, she did,' she said at last. 'I have vampire blood in me; she thought she could come up with another potion that might help me.'

'You mean, to...to cure you of...of being...' Harry broke off.

'A demon,' said Hopkirk, her eyes still distant. 'No. There is no way for me to ever change what I am. I was born like this. A monster.'

And then her cold blue eyes filled with tears. Harry felt a stabbing in his gut, and for the first time since he laid eyes on her, he felt sorry for Griselda Hopkirk.

Hopkirk took a breath and turned her back to him, wiping impatiently at her face.

'Your mother helped me as much as she could have,' said Hopkirk. 'She never did find a way to reverse vampirism--it was a source of endless frustration for her, right up until she died. But she helped me. The potion she came up with kept me in control, feeling more...human. It was her gift to me.'

'For what?'

'I helped her,' said Hopkirk simply. 'And your father. Voldemort had already tried twice to kill them, but they escaped. The third time...your mother was pregnant with you. Voldemort took out a street full of people to get to her, and your father, but I was with them. I helped them get away. I actually didn't do very much, in hindsight, but you wouldn't have known it to listen to Lily talk. As far as she was concerned, I had saved her life, and her husband's life, and the life of her unborn child.'

Hopkirk paused again, and turned to look at Harry; her eyes were clear now, though slightly red-rimmed.

'Your mother worked constantly to help me,' said Hopkirk. 'Not just through magical science and potion making. She tried to include in her life as much as she could. It didn't matter to her that I was...what I was. She didn't care about...the things I'd done or the people I'd hurt. And then she made that potion for me...I was as happy as I could ever have hoped to be, thanks to her.'

'That's why you tried to make that potion back then,' said Harry. 'To...save my mother from Voldemort.'

'Your parents went into hiding in 1981, about six months after you were born,' said Hopkirk. 'They had a Secret Keeper, but I think, deep down, Lily knew Voldemort would catch up to them eventually. I knew about Sanguen generare, and Lily told me she would go to Dumbledore and ask for his help in using it to protect you. But I knew there had to be another way, a way that didn't require your mother to die for you. So I began working on a potion of my own, using some of the same principles I'd picked up from your mother, who was so brilliant with bloodwork. Needless to say, I didn't complete a successful formula in time.'

Harry swallowed again, and felt a lump in his throat. The look on Hopkirk's face was not simply one of sadness, but of aching guilt.

'Your mother,' she said, 'foolishly asked me to be your godmother. She actually believed a creature like myself was an appropriate guardian for a child. It was utter madness.'

Hopkirk shook her head. 'As I said, your mother was naive about certain things. I refused, of course. She took it a bit hard, but...in the end she accepted my decision. She never got around to asking anyone else, though. By that time James had already asked Sirius Black to be your godfather, and he agreed. Lily did manage to get me to agree to...watch after you from a distance. She could be annoyingly persuasive when she wanted to be.'

Hopkirk smiled as she said this, and her voice carried the color of fondness, even affection in it. But then her features darkened, and Harry shuddered as her blue eyes, for just a split second, flashed crimson.

'After Voldemort murdered them, and Sirius was framed...I wanted revenge,' she said. 'I wanted to spill the blood of those who had betrayed Lily. I killed six Death Eaters that night. I didn't know who they were. I didn't care.'

She lifted her eyes to Harry's; they were brilliantly red now, and she was breathing hard through her nostrils.

'I laid them to waste,' she said, her features curling into a sneer. 'And I would have kept on killing...'

At this her red eyes faded to blue again.

'...but the blood I spilled did not bring back my friend,' she finished. 'I disappeared after that. I couldn't possibly fulfill the promise I'd made to your mother. Dumbledore knew it. He didn't come after me.'

'Until...until last summer,' said Harry, struggling not to shiver.

'Until last summer,' said Hopkirk. 'Dumbledore told me all that had happened, though I'd been following some of the news. I knew it was impossible to stay hidden. I owed it to your mother to fulfill my promise to her. And I figured...you were old enough, and had been through enough, to be able to handle it.'

She paused, and looked at him full in the face, and suddenly Harry felt it, a wave of longing in her eyes that seemed to radiate from her skin. Longing, tempered by fierce control.

'Do you understand now, Harry, why I kept myself hidden from you?' she asked, her voice suddenly smooth as caramel. Harry shivered, and tried to look away, but his eyes were frozen on her pink mouth. The power of her seduction was like a heady drug...

'Even now, I am a danger to you,' Hopkirk said, gliding toward him slowly like a cat. 'It would not take much for me to forget myself, and my promise to your mother, for the pleasure of taking your soul. I could feed off your life-force for years to come, and you would not only be powerless to stop me, you'd beg me to take you.'

She licked her lips, and Harry let out a strangled cry, and backed away. He was as painfully aroused as he was terrified.

'You see,' said Hopkirk, her eyes filling with tears.

Harry nodded. 'I see,' he managed.

'It is only because of your mother, and the potion I take, that I don't...give in to myself,' said Hopkirk, stepping back slightly. 'It is only because you are Lily's son and you are destined to destroy her murderer, that I am here at all.'

Harry walked back to the common room in a daze. He found Ginny, Ron and Hermione all there, making a half-hearted attempt to study and failing miserably at it.

The common room was, otherwise, thankfully empty. Ginny leapt up from the sofa and crossed the room to him.

'What kept you?' she asked, worry in her voice. She took his hands in hers, and grimaced. 'You're upset.'

'Was it Hopkirk?' Ron asked at once. 'She didn't...try anything, did she?'

'I need to sit,' said Harry, and he did, on the sofa, with Ginny on one side and Hermione on the other. Ron sat in the chair diagonally facing them.

'Harry, what is it?' Hermione asked urgently.

He told them. Every last piece of information, all of it still clear as crystal in his mind. By the end of his recitation, Ron, Ginny and Hermione were all gaping at him, open-mouthed and speechless.

It was Ginny who finally broke the silence.

'Merlin,' she breathed.

'You can say that again,' said Ron.

'The poor woman,' Hermione whispered.

Ron gawked at her. 'What? The "poor woman"? Did I just hear you right?'

'Yes, Ron,' said Hermione impatiently. 'I feel sorry for her, don't you?'

'Yeah,' said Ron sincerely. 'I do. I just...well, this is a complete turn-around for you, isn't it?'

Hermione rolled her eyes and waved a hand at him.

'She's scary,' said Harry finally. 'But...she's completely alone. My mum was her only real friend.'

'How is it,' Hermione mused, 'that Hopkirk didn't...well, why didn't she...you know...feel compelled to...act like herself around your mother?'

'You mean why didn't Hopkirk want to have sex with my mum and steal her soul?' said Harry, screwing up his face. 'I don't think Hopkirk gets her kicks out of girls, Hermione. Unless she's been coming onto you and you haven't told us.'

'Has she?' Ron asked nervously.

'Of course not,' said Hermione, throwing up her hands. 'Really, Ron. She's been fine to work with. Well, not fine. But you know what I mean.'

Nobody said anything for a few minutes; Harry was so utterly drained, he felt like his bones might actually melt into the sofa, but then Ginny took his hand again and he felt her gentle strength flowing into him.

Not long after that, Ron and Hermione turned in; Harry and Ginny went upstairs to ready themselves for bed; fifteen minutes later, Ginny crept silently into the seventh year boys dormitory, and slid into bed next to Harry, into his waiting arms. He slept a dreamless sleep.

A/N: I meant to include more in this chapter--specifically, what Hagrid has been up to. But in the end I realized that including Hagrid's stuff meant overloading the chapter with information, and in any case, once I got to writing, this chapter quickly became the sole property of Griselda Hopkirk. Her information is too important to the overall story; it had to stand on its own.

I do promise to address Hagrid's business in the next chapter, and it will have a Ron POV for at least the first half, if not all of it. We need to find out what Ron has been seeing since he started doing Tactile Sight with Harry's clothes, after all.

Thanks, as ever, to Buckbeaky and lina.