"ᴏɴᴇ ᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴛᴏ ʜᴏʟᴅ ᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴏɴᴇ'ꜱ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ; ꜰᴏʀ ɪꜰ ᴏɴᴇ ʟᴇᴛꜱ ɪᴛ ɢᴏ, ᴏɴᴇ ꜱᴏᴏɴ ʟᴏꜱᴇꜱ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴛᴏᴏ."
― ꜰʀɪᴇᴅʀɪᴄʜ ɴɪᴇᴛᴢꜱᴄʜᴇ
Chapter Two: A Hermetic Seal
"This bodes poorly, Cissy," said Bellatrix Lestrange, her thin but no longer spindly fingers latched around the railing of the mezzanine. "It is ― how would the Minister say it ― a bad business."
It wasn't the fiasco that had been Dumbledore's victory during the Siege of Hogwarts that upset her so much, Narcissa knew, so much as the loss of morale and general despondency amongst them.
The Death Eaters needed a win, and judging by the look on Bellatrix's face, she was determined to be responsible for it; for the sake of both the Dark Lord and the greater cause.
Killing Harry Potter would be a fitting offering. But Bellatrix, who had respect for so little, knew to keep away from Lord Voldemort's personal quarry. Another type of victory would have to be had.
From below the mezzanine overlooking the Malfoys' foyer, two familiar figures could be observed; the first, Lucius Malfoy, and the second, Peter Pettigrew. Having spotted the Black sisters, Lucius began ascending the staircase, whilst Pettigrew, also having seen them, lingered nervously behind.
"Have you seen him?" asked Narcissa as Lucius drew closer, too quietly for Pettigrew to hear. A single shake of his head indicated that he had not.
"Thaddeus tells me that his son knows of a plot Dumbledore plans to enact at graduation."
"Has the Dark Lord been made aware?" Bellatrix interjected in a strident tone. Lucius held her gaze for an instant before looking away.
"Yes. He was informed days ago."
It was a great relief, Narcissa reflected, that Draco was away at Durmstrang. Lucius finally made a good decision, for once. Though I do loathe the thought of him being so far away, on his own.
"Shall we not set our sights any higher than Hogwarts?" griped Bellatrix.
"Once Hogwarts falls, the rest will follow easily," said Narcissa. "It is time to see what we can come up with alone." She turned as someone else finally entered. "Pettigrew."
"This reeks of mutiny," said Bellatrix, her nose wrinkling in distaste.
Lucius cleared his throat. "The Dark Lord has given us no orders. Certainly, he does not expect us to stand around and do nothing."
"Of course," said Bellatrix in a tone laced with poison, "you would be the very mouthpiece of the Dark Lord."
"If I may, Madam Lestrange," Pettigrew interrupted, his hands fidgeting about, clearly trying to pacify Bellatrix in particular, "I have come up with a plan to take Hogwarts for the Dark Lord. From the inside, this time."
Bellatrix drew herself up to her full height, eye-level with Lucius, who was himself a tall man. "I suppose this plan is of your invention?" An arched eyebrow followed.
"Thaddeus's son has proved himself useful," Pettigrew began.
"Are we to place our hopes on a child?" asked Narcissa, eyes flashing with anger.
"Harry Potter is but a child, and yet Dumbledore depends on him for leverage. Shall we not match our enemy's tactics?" asked Bellatrix, sweeping away from the railing. "This may be, at the least, intriguing. Speak, Wormtail."
What mercy that Draco should avoid this fate of being a child soldier. The relative danger at Durmstrang, though frightening for any parent, was far lower than that which Theodore Nott experienced every minute of the day. Narcissa had peered into the emptiness behind that boy's pale, beady eyes and seen how he had withered in the inadequacy of his father as a parent.
"We should have Hogwarts taught the lesson I taught my friends," said Pettigrew, a perverse pride lingering in his tone. He searched Bellatrix's face greedily for praise. When none was offered, he carried on. "The folly of trust. The immateriality of truth. As I turned brother against brother... let him turn brother against sister and sister against brother..."
Bellatrix threw her head back, laughter cascading like a waterfall of daggers. When neither Lucius nor Narcissa joined in with her dubious mirth, she ceased, taking Narcissa by the arm.
"I did not know you could wax poetic, Wormtail! This fool fancies himself a master of strategy, he who led the Dark Lord to danger! However..." Her voice cooled and steadied. "I will tell him."
All three around her stilled. None other would risk his wrath, and, given their strange, unspoken circumstance, Narcissa gathered Lord Voldemort would rather hear news from Bellatrix than anyone else. And if she wanted to, dissuading Bellatrix when she had made up her mind was a task beyond even her.
Despondency was a pit from which he could not rouse himself. Though the Dark Lord was not one for regret, the revelation that the locket was missing, stung like a stomach wound filled with salt. He'd screamed and screamed ― he had not felt so very close to mortality and nothingness since he'd made his first Horcrux.
Worse still was the realisation, after carefully reviewing that night in his Pensieve, that the hint of a golden chain peeked out from the collar of the boy's shirt.
With that knowledge, would he have discarded the strange and inexplicable mortal, physical embodiment of the diary as nothing more than a failed experiment of his foolish youth? He'd known, as he lay squirming in mind-melting, soul-destroying pain at the age of sixteen, all alone in the depths of the dungeons, his vocal cords torn and his mouth filled with blood, that something was wrong.
It haunted him in his nightmares in the months following.
He'd explored the lightning-shaped gouge in his chest the next morning, wondering at what it meant, turning the Restricted Section inside out to find out what it meant, and yet, it remained a mystery.
The other times had been painful still, but less. He'd thought nothing of the diary since he made his second Horcrux, since he'd poured his family's blood out onto his hands.
Until he'd stood in front of a wizard on the precipice of adulthood, one he'd erased from his identity.
Tom Riddle is dead! And stranger still, the boy had repeated it back to him in a grave whisper. Tom Riddle is dead.
He was right. Tom Riddle was not only dead but shattered into pieces that would never be put back together.
So who is this spectre of my past who haunts me?
The thought disgusts me, but perhaps it would have been better to take him under my wing. Dumbledore will ― no, at no age was I such a fool to follow after Dumbledore like a lost little lamb. Regardless of what transpires, irrespective of what accidents lie behind me, the boy is mine.
The steady crack of the door betrayed an entrance. Voldemort lifted his head tensely.
"My Lord."
The anger that had begun to rise at him in response to the intrusion stilled.
"My Lord, may I speak?" Bellatrix hesitated, her tall figure encompassing the entire doorway, with her hand braced on the frame. She leaned forward slightly, gazing at him with her heavy-lidded eyes. Each breath, each word seemed to move her whole body.
He inclined his head. She glided across the floor and reached out to place a hand on his arm but halted the moment halfway.
"I could help."
It was a familiar offer. Voldemort exhaled.
"Speak, Bella," he said quietly.
Another deep, heavy breath ― another tremble. "It is time we use Thaddeus's boy to our own ends and not his father's, My Lord. For too long, he has been allowed to shamelessly use him in order to vie for a greater position amongst us."
Thaddeus's boy. Not Theodore. She often speaks in terms of relations, almost with deliberate vagueness. But what does she intend to emphasise? At least this conversation brings me some amusement, a distraction.
Voldemort steepled his fingers, pressing his forehead to their cold, stony apex. "And what do you propose I do with him?"
"You might kill Harry Potter with such a weapon. He has been a diligent student. Could he not accomplish the task?"
"I had imagined something different. To kill him with my own hand would present a fitting ending."
In fact, one of us must die by the other's hand. I must not impart the words of the prophecy upon her. She may lose faith. They may all lose faith.
"It is a romantic ideal, My Lord, one I appreciate." Bellatrix paused to arrange more sweet words upon her lips. "It would present a fitting end to the story. Yet, better to kill him before his parasite accomplishes the job first."
Her words sent a lightning bolt of terror through him. She could not have known, yet she was right. If he failed to kill Harry Potter by his own hand, the future would be uncertain.
"Yes, better to kill him now and be certain." The basilisk had been considered as a murder by his own hand; why not this? If not for Potter's affliction, he would have preferred not to take such chances in interpretation, but here, he had no choice but to gamble. "Do you believe the boy will perform his duty?"
Bellatrix stilled, clearly thinking deeply on this as she paused for a few seconds. "Adequately, perhaps. And if he fails?"
Voldemort, thinking again wistfully of the locket, replied, "He will not." And then, "Have the boy sent to me at the soonest opportunity."
For the first time in a while, a renewing and reinvigorating sense of purpose flowed into him.
"Has Lucius established contact with Dolores Umbridge?"
"Yes, My Lord."
"And he has assured her that he fully supports her candidacy should it fall to her to establish her own government?"
Bellatrix indicated that it was so.
"Shall I remove Fudge, My Lord?" she asked anxiously. Failing her mission with the Longbottoms and Wormtail succeeding in bringing him back to life had left her desperate to please, desperate to prove she was as deadly as ever.
"We cannot be seen as benevolent while covered in his blood. He will be made to cede. As my Dementors continue to chip away at every aspect of life, he will not last much longer in power."
"And when he does, we will be sure that Umbridge seizes it, and therefore My Lord does, too." Bellatrix did not sound pleased, her voice unusually monotonous. "I will have Thaddeus bring the boy as soon as he returns."
"Until then."
She made her way towards the door, then turned on her heel and paused as if expecting him to ask her to come back, to stay.
What is it that she wants from me?
Perhaps I might...
Bellatrix had disappeared from the hallway. Though she must still be in earshot, he hesitated to call her back and finally decided against it.
"Stare deep, deep into the crystal ball," instructed Professor Trelawney in her dulcet tones. The otherwise-empty classroom was silent around her.
The Divination exam was the last thing separating Ruby Potter from entering her fourth year. She was confident that she'd managed to at least scrape a pass in everything else, even if it meant she did come dead last.
What faced her was the foggy contents of the ball swirling just under its surface.
I prefer to scry with fire, personally. But she wasn't stupid enough to say that, despite her annoyance.
She'd actually sworn off scrying, in fact, ever since she'd visited her parents' house. The thought of having the slimmest chance of seeing that awful night was enough to put her off for good, and whatever budding clairvoyance she had once had now shrivelled up and died an unimpressive death. Lavender's Other Side hadn't interfered with her life since, and Ruby was quite sure she liked it that way.
"Oh!" cried Professor Trelawney. A strong wind from the open window blew the curtains away from it, sending sunlight from the cloudless sky blazing into the room. The glass grew hot under Ruby's fingertips, and she snatched her hand away instinctively.
Trelawney shrieked, jumping away and gathering her scarves around her as the heat from the glass made Ruby's desk catch on fire. Strangely calm, Ruby stood up and backed away slowly, unable to take her eyes off the small inferno.
Trelawney, too, had gathered herself.
"What do you see, my dear?"
Ruby nearly scoffed but, remembering she was still technically in her last exam, tried to empty her mind and stare deeper into the flames.
"I see a locket..." Her mouth was forming words she hadn't expected, her voice echoing strangely. "...It's got a snake on it, but it's moving. It's eating itself. There's something wrong ―" She couldn't place the worry "―something wrong with it. If I could just get closer―"
Her head snapped up. The air smelled like burnt wood polish and charred furniture. Trelawney stood a few feet in front of her, pointing her wand at the smouldering desk inches away from Ruby.
"Very good effort," said Trelawney, trembling all over. "Why don't you lie down..."
"Thanks," said Ruby half-heartedly, still unsettled. With a regretful look at the desk and the crystal ball still perched on it, she let herself out of the classroom, shutting the door behind her before allowing herself to slump against it.
"That bad?" asked Lavender, who was sitting at the feet of one of the suits of armour lining the hallway. "I didn't think it was so hard."
"There was a minor conflagration," said Ruby under her breath before sitting down behind her and Parvati. "Think she'll have to Vanish my desk before the next person goes in."
"Oh," said Parvati knowingly. "Of all the days for it to happen, too. Couldn't it've been in the middle of the Potions exam instead?"
Ruby had an unfortunate knack for setting things on fire at inopportune times, sometimes on purpose.
"Well, at least it's over," she offered.
"Sugar Quill?"
"Yes, please."
As she felt a little energy start to return, Ruby turned to Lavender, and asked: "Did you borrow Scrying in the Spirit Vision from the library?"
Lavender was staring regretfully at the stump of her nearly-finished Sugar Quill. She looked surprised. "Yes― why? I thought you'd said you'd sworn off it."
"I did," said Ruby, drawing her knees up to her nose and wrapping her arms around her legs. What she had seen felt so important and mysterious. The last time I messed around with something I didn't completely understand, I ended up bringing Voldemort back. "Never mind."
Parvati stood and brushed off her robes. "I heard there's butterbeer outside. Coming?"
Lavender glanced at Ruby, who shrugged and responded, "Yeah, why not?"
They got to their feet and followed Parvati out onto the Dementor-free grounds, which, though recently recovered from the fire, was covered in a sparse blanket of hardy, stubby grass and an ever-growing crowd of extremely loud students. Ruby noticed Daphne seated on a blanket with Tracey Davis, sipping butterbeer from a champagne glass in the most genteel manner possible, and instantly gave both a wide berth. Where there's Daphne, there's an interrogation around the corner, and worse yet, likely Theodore or Pansy.
Further out, a group of people were playing Quidditch; a makeshift set of hoops had been set up to demarcate the bounds of the 'pitch.' Ruby counted Harry amongst their number. She could make out the ring Quirrell had given him, Corvinus the Clever's ring, the coiled snake glinting in the sun.
He strained forward with all the confidence of a natural flyer, as if unaware that he might tumble a hundred feet to the hard ground if he lost his balance, and snatched the Snitch out of the sky — so quickly that if you blinked, you'd miss it.
"Potter's got the Snitch! Alright, that's three out of three — you can come down now."
Harry was the last to come down from the sky, alighting from his broom with his hair and glasses askew, flushed from the wind and wearing the most genuine smile she'd seen from him in ages, with the Golden Snitch's wings fluttering in his palm.
With a jolt, she thought of what she'd almost seen in the fire before. A snake eating itself. A locket. Why do I have such a bad feeling about it? It's only ever helped him, honestly.
What if it really is the Gaunt Ring in disguise ― what if―
Lavender tapped her on the shoulder. Dumbledore was coming across the grounds towards them, accompanied by Hagrid.
Ruby had been dreading this. He asked her to narrate the basics of what had happened since she'd left and come back to Hogwarts, but it had been dominated by questions about her travelling companion and whether or not he posed a clear and present danger to the school.
"Congratulations on finishin' yer exams!" said Hagrid, beaming. Dumbledore drew closer behind him, looking somewhat grim. Ruby wondered if he'd heard about the fire yet.
"Thanks, Hagrid," all three of them chorused, Ruby a little slow on the uptake.
"And alas, I must steal Ruby for the moment," Dumbledore put in, and she felt dread wash over her. Ruby took an uneasy step forward on legs that felt wholly composed of jelly. Lavender and Parvati both crossed their fingers in solidarity, and she managed a nervous smile at them.
Dumbledore waited until they were at the edge of the crowd to turn towards her.
"I'm sorry about the desk!" she blurted out, only for Dumbledore to respond, with a confused expression, "What desk?"
"I burnt a desk during the Divination exam."
"Ah."
"It was an accident," Ruby clarified.
"I see. But I did not intend to discuss school furnishings."
Is he finally going to expel me? she wondered. Have I finally crossed the line?
"What I am about to say concerns graduation," Dumbledore began in a hushed tone. "And you and Harry, as Hogwarts is your home, and I am your guardian. The moment the last seventh-year leaves this castle, we shall no longer be part of Britain nor any country to speak of."
"How is that even possible?" asked Ruby, chancing an uneasy glance around them.
A hint of a smile briefly passed over Dumbledore's face. "Magic, of course. A new enchantment on which the professors and I have been hard at work. Students will no longer take the Hogwarts Express to and from school. Henceforth, the only entrance to Hogwarts shall be the letters we send each year to students; they may only leave at the beginning of summer."
"You mean we'll be completely cut off from the rest of the world?" she stammered out. "For how long?" Ruby couldn't help but feel instantly claustrophobic. She looked out onto the grounds, beyond which lay Hogsmeade, a little village she'd never set foot into. At least she'd been up and down the country last year; Harry hadn't set foot outside the grounds for nearly four years.
"Until the threat of war is over," said Dumbledore solemnly. "We cannot afford a repeat of last year; nor can we rely on luck. We will act. We must."
"But―"
"Do not plead, Ruby." His voice was compassionate yet stern. "I will not be moved."
Dumbledore turned on his heel and strode off in the direction of the castle. Ruby found herself sniffling and touched her face; it was wet.
In the meantime, Lavender and Parvati had returned.
"What's the matter?" asked Parvati, taking in the sullen look on Ruby's face.
"Nothing," she said sourly. It was a general rule with Dumbledore that anything he told you was meant to be a secret unless he said otherwise.
"Hey, over here!" a voice called. It was little Colin Creevey, squinting through the viewfinder on his camera. "Smile!"
Lavender twirled around, her curls floating like her own personal, sun-lit halo, and looped an arm around both Parvati and Ruby.
"Great!" said Colin, grinning. "That one will turn out really nice! Thanks, Lavender!"
"Thanks, Lavender?" asked Ruby once he was out of earshot. "What are Parvati and I, chopped liver?"
"Oh, he's got a crush on Lav," said Parvati, twisting the end of her plait around her finger and scrunching her face. "I think it's cute."
"He's not my type," said Lavender, waving her hand like a fan.
"What's your type?" quipped Parvati. "Cedric Diggory, maybe? Tall? Fit? Dreamy-eyed?"
"Cedric's everyone's type," Lavender scoffed. She stared into the distance and tilted her head evaluatively. "Do you think we'll be alright next year?"
Ruby bit her lip hard. I ought to tell them, but I also really shouldn't.
" 'Course we'll be alright," said Parvati grandly. "You-Know-Who wouldn't dare attack Hogwarts with Dumbledore here."
"I just―" Lavender shuddered. "I think about the Dementors sometimes." She gestured vaguely at the grounds. "Sometimes I'm afraid if I look through the window, they'll still be here. And when we go home, our parents―"
Parvati nodded. "I heard Katie Bell's mum is in the Kissed Ward."
Ruby didn't know what to say next; Lavender looked similarly at a loss for words. The Kissed Ward was the informal name for the Abraxas Malfoy Memorial Ward of St. Mungo's, and as there was no cure for the Dementor's Kiss, it was more or less a hospice.
"We never did get that butterbeer," said Lavender regretfully.
Harry, along with the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff Seekers, Ginny Weasley and Cedric Diggory, was coming towards them. Ginny was small, even shorter than Harry, with a permanently stubborn expression, and like all the Weasleys, her hair was an almost impossibly vibrant shade of red. Compared to the other two, Cedric looked out of place; the sixth-year was tall and incongruously well-built for the Seeker position.
"Hi, everyone!" chimed Lavender, pinching Parvati when she erupted into a fit of giggles. "Who won?"
Ginny cracked a tiny, mischievous smirk and jabbed her thumb in Harry's direction. "We did!"
"It was mostly Ginny," said Harry once Lavender and Parvati swivelled around to stare at him. He shrugged one of his shoulders.
"It wasn't mostly me," said Ginny. "You were brilliant! Wasn't he, Cedric?"
The older boy looked distracted. "Er, yeah!"
"Distracted, Ced?" giggled Lavender. "See something? Or someone?"
Cedric frowned, not in annoyance, but confusion. "Over there." He pointed back towards the castle. "I thought someone was on the roof. Must be the light."
Harry raised his hand over his eyes like a visor and squinted in the direction Cedric had pointed. Ruby knew what he was looking out for; sunlight glinting off of a head of black hair. But why would he be scrambling around the rooftops?
To spy, of course. The sloping roof on the east side of the school made an excellent vantage point. Maybe he was planning a great escape.
And with the lockdown Dumbledore's planning, we'll be locked in with him. Isn't that a bit of a gamble?
"You should try out for Quidditch again next year," said Cedric, snapping her back into reality and away from her thoughts. "I heard there's a Chaser spot opening up on the Gryffindor team."
"Or we could switch, Harry, and you could take mine," Ginny offered brightly. "I think I make a better Chaser, anyway."
"Sports," said Lavender under her breath. "Boring. I think I'm going to head back in. You two?"
"Coming," said Parvati.
Ruby hesitated. What if it really was Riddle up there? "I'll come in a bit," she offered and turned back to Harry and the others.
"Can I borrow Harry?"
Cedric and Ginny acquiesced, and they were left alone in their corner of the grounds. Checking to make sure anyone close by was out of earshot before she spoke, Ruby said:
"Dumbledore's putting us on some kind of magical lockdown after graduation."
Harry shook his head. "Come again?"
His face and voice had darkened; Ruby thought with a twinge of amusement that this was the state in which people usually found him quite frightening.
"He's going to... somehow seal the school away from the rest of the world, so students can get in and out before and after the school year, but no one else can."
"What?" he asked, moving closer and loosening his grip on his broom. "Why?"
"So Voldemort can't get in?" said Ruby, half unsure herself.
"Or so he can't get out, maybe." The entire sentence was laced with spite. Even given the fact that she'd seen Riddle perform multiple seemingly impossible feats with apparent ease, including taming a kelpie and ordering Dementors around, she still felt he might suffer severe damage were Harry ever to get his hands on him.
"Killing Riddle won't solve anything. You might get yourself killed in the process."
Harry looked as if he wanted to respond to that with the obvious retort but saw that it would escalate into an argument and wisely held his tongue. Instead, he said:
"And what do I do when he's standing over my bed one night? Negotiate?"
"He's not that unhinged."
"All I know," said Harry through gritted teeth, "is that a week hasn't gone by where my scar hasn't hurt since he came here. And to be honest, it's driving me mad."
"Haven't you gone to Madam Pomfrey?" What if it's the Obscurus all over again?
Harry smiled mirthlessly. "She gave me a month's supply of Sleeping Draught, but that's all she can do for me. I am going to find out what Riddle is up to, and no one is going to stop me. We've got a whole summer with an empty castle in front of us. I'm not going to sit there and twiddle my thumbs while our parents' murderer is on the loose!"
"What's the plan, then?" asked Ruby in a monotone voice. She was somewhat disappointed with him. "Tar and feather? Hang, draw, and quarter?"
"I haven't got a plan!" snapped Harry.
Ruby cupped a hand behind her ear. "Could you repeat that, please?"
He rolled his eyes. "I haven't got a plan, but that's not the point; it's the principle of it! He could hurt you ― maybe he did, I don't know! Give me a reason why I shouldn't."
She paused for a moment, racking her brains. The best she could come up with was, "Dumbledore won't be happy if he finds out you're planning on doing murder."
"That's funny," said Harry. "I didn't realise you'd devoted your life to doing things Dumbledore approves of. Given the circumstances, anyway, I think he'll understand."
"Look, Harry. The less you deal with him in any capacity, the better."
He sighed. "You used to be more fun. Now, you sound like Lupin."
"You used to be less like me," said Ruby sadly. And then, "I wonder what we'd be like if we'd been normal. Normally brought up, I mean."
It was somewhat of a forbidden question. But with their parents' home in Godric's Hollow lingering in her mind, she couldn't help but ask.
"I probably still be afraid of pigeons," said Harry comfortingly, clearly trying not to think too hard about it, "and you'd be just as irritating." He slung an arm around her shoulders, hefting his broom in the other.
"Don't do murder," she mumbled. "And please stop stalking Riddle."
"I'm not going to do murder, alright!" said Harry exasperatedly. "I'm just going to make sure he's not about to sell us out to Voldemort! For all we know, he's slowly poisoning all of us? Do you have to keep going on about it, or will you shut up now?"
"Shut up yourself," said Ruby under her breath, but despite it, smiling a little as they walked off.
Unbeknownst to either of them, Theodore Nott was crouched uncomfortably under a nearby bush and had heard everything. He headed up the stairs to the Owlery immediately after the Potters left and tied a short note onto the leg of the most nondescript mail owl he could find.