Author's Notes: After a very long wait, here is another chapter. The
story is winding down, and I will finish it before re-writing.
Disclaimers: Nothing you recognize from the books or movies belongs to me, or is any way is implied to be my creation.
Chapter 63: The Awakening
Day after day, Narcissa Malfoy's unborn child developed at an unnaturally rapid pace. An unlicensed healing wizard mixed and administered the development acceleration potion to her in a highly concentrated dose. Under ordinary circumstances, such intervention would never be attempted. Continued use of the potion left the child physically frail. But, these were not ordinary circumstances. If the plan to transfer Lord Voldemort's disembodied spirit into the fetus was to succeed, the ceremony would have to be performed during a very narrow window of opportunity when the planets were aligned just so. The pregnancy had to be at the halfway point or the child would be lost. As long as Narcissa took the potion as directed, she and the baby would be ready in two nights' time.
With the child inside her womb growing so rapidly, Narcissa spent most of her days confined to bed. The healer provided her with a special ointment to help her skin expand to accommodate the rapid growth of her belly, but there were no potions to safely dull the emotional extremes caused by the flood of hormones through her body. The healer allowed her a minimal dose of relaxing drops, but no wine to wash it down with. Lucius avoided her histrionics by traveling the country, seeking out surviving Death Eaters and Voldemort sympathizers. The majority of Death Eaters who had avoided capture or death were not terribly happy to see him. They had simply gone on with their lives as if they had never been involved with the Dark Lord, and their neighbors were none the wiser. While a few were eager to hear more about the plan to resurrect their master, most wanted nothing to do with it and sent Lucius on his way. And hoped to Merlin that nobody had seen a rather sinister looking portcarriage apparate to their houses. As Lucius left the homes of those who would not hear his message, he warned them that no leniency would be given when they again felt the burning of the Mark.
Some dismissed him as a lunatic. Convinced that he took one too many curses in battle. Others nervously rubbed their arms and hoped that he was in fact a lunatic, as the alternative was too horrific to dwell on. Those who remained loyal counted the days until the re-embodiment of the Dark Lord would come of age and show those who lived within a fragile illusion of peace, that not even death itself could bring an end to his plans for domination of the wizarding world.
The Aurors sent to keep an eye on the Malfoy country estate noted the coming and going of a black portcarriage with covered windows. The occupant always embarked and disembarked while concealed in a long hooded black cloak. While anybody could have been traveling to and from the estate under that cloak, it did confirm that it was being used as an active residence. Spotters identified the operator of the portcarriage as Malfoy's groundskeeper. The old witch who served as cook and housekeeper was spotted around the house as well. Agents working in Hogsmeade and on Knockturn Alley reported seeing Narcissa's handmaiden and Lucius' valet being ferried to and from various business establishments, including a rather shady apothecary known to supply unlicensed healers.
Suspicions that Narcissa was in residence at the estate were confirmed when she was spotted sitting at a window, looking out on the countryside. There had also been rumors circulating around the taverns where dark wizards were known to visit. Rumors that Lucius Malfoy was alive and working on rounding up the old crowd for some kind of Death Eater re- emergence. Of course rumors about Death Eaters and even Voldemort being sighted had been circulating all along, but these were circulating among witches and wizards who were aligned with dark magic. And that made the rumors something worth checking into.
While the Ministry Aurors were hard at work, most of the students and faculty at Hogwarts were completely unaware that anything unusual was going on in the wizarding world. Only the Headmaster, Deputy Headmistress, and a select few others knew of the developments concerning Lucius Malfoy.
The spring term just getting underway, Ron, Harry, and Hermione were settling into their normal routines. The first Monday back at Hogwarts had gone well, but all three left their Tuesday Potions class in a bad mood. The assignment had been particularly difficult and none of the students, not even Hermione, had managed to concoct an effective brew. Professor Snape seemed to take a particularly sadistic bit of pleasure in gloating over the fact that Hermione Granger finally encountered a potion that she couldn't master on the first try. While the boys went off to Quidditch practice, Hermione sequestered herself away in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom where she kept her secret stash of potionmaking supplies, and tried the complex formula again, determined to get it right before Potions class met again.
Mirabelle DelMare received a chilly reception at her cousin's breakfast table. Susan felt put upon for being asked by Dumbledore to provide her cousin refuge from her scandalously complicated life. In Susan and Albert's eyes, Mira simply mixed with the wrong kind of wizarding folk, and brought these encounters with dark wizards upon herself. They didn't approve of her folksy working class manners and certainly didn't approve of her love affair with the notorious Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Even though the man was highly thought of by the mighty Albus Dumbledore, people still talked. And the gossip was that he had been deeply involved with You-Know-Who before defecting to the winning side. Albert wasn't terribly thrilled with the new living arrangements either, but felt that he couldn't refuse Dumbledore without harming his reputation among the wizarding world elite. Feeling sorry for herself, Mira excused herself from the table and went through the floo network to the tailor shop without any breakfast. Her first attempt to override the new security wards failed, and she was bounced right back through the floo network into her cousin's parlor. Cursing under her breath, she tried once more and made it on through.
She hated the security wards, she hated staying with her cousin, and she hated being a moving target. All Mirabelle DelMare wanted was to be left alone and allowed to live the life she had created for herself in peace. All the protective attentions given to her were affronts to her fiercely independent nature, and she found it to be quite oppressive.
Between dealing with his students, and dealing with Mira's insolence, Professor Snape had precious little patience remaining to deal with the liquidation of his family estate. His attorney in Diagon Alley had managed to find a loophole in the clause binding him to his family home, and it had been sold to a distant relation for mere Sickles per acre. Relieved of the burden of a ruin of a home, which housed only bad memories; the professor moved forward in his plans for a home away from Hogwarts. He nearly drove a housing broker to drink with his extremely specific security requirements. But, in the end, two homes meeting his needs were found in Diagon Alley.
The first building was nearly as ancient as Diagon Alley itself. At some point in history, it had served as the gatehouse for a medieval estate once situated on the boundary between Wizarding and Muggle London. It was imposing, cold, and dungeon-like. Naturally, Professor Snape loved it and had to be convinced to even look at photographs and blueprints of the second possibility. The second building at one time had been a watchtower of some kind and was tall and narrow with a winding staircase leading to a large main floor, which had heavily barred windows on all sides. In the end, the professor chose the latter, feeling that the slight elevation above other buildings in the area would give an advantage when watching for trouble.
Professor Snape made plans to supervise the renovation of the watchtower into living quarters during his first weekend away from Hogwarts, per Dumbledore's new household head rotation schedule. He wasn't terribly upset to have to wait a week for his turn, as he felt that some of the upper year Slytherins needed a firm reminder of just how their house was run. If he didn't show them who was boss during their first weekend back at Hogwarts, the household head taking on his charges during his weekend off wouldn't stand a chance with them.
As the first week of the spring term ended, the planets came into a rare and ominous alignment. It was a time when dark magic would be amplified and when dark witches and wizards performed unspeakable rituals and spells. Most of the professors and many of the students were on edge. Security wards and protective talismans were checked and reinforced. Defensive charms and counterspells were practiced just in case. At sundown on the eve of the night of the alignment, the school was locked down tight and all household heads were assigned to walking the halls. Mira was ordered by both Dumbledore and the professor to stay in her cousin's house, and cast every single one of the protective wards they had taught her.
The Aurors who were carrying out surveillance on the Malfoy country estate, were ordered to fall back to a safe distance, and continue their watch with extreme caution. They noticed a series of private portcarriages with privacy draperies apparate to and disapparate from the servants' entrance. All the occupants were cloaked and hooded. The Aurors could sense the dark magic building up in the air, and settled into their waiting game.
After the sun went down, Narcissa Malfoy was visited one last time by the healer, who administered a series of potions, which would open her womb to spiritual energy and prepare the unborn child for acceptance of Lord Voldemort's disembodied spirit. Nervously, she paced her bedchamber, listening to the voices of the former Death Eaters who were arriving to witness the ritual and convincing herself that the risk to her child was worth the outcome if all went as planned. At half past eleven, Lucius came to fetch her and lead her down to the basement dungeon, where the ritual would take place. She entered the dungeon and saw a dozen or more heavily cloaked and hooded figures, standing around the edges of the chamber, barely visible in the flickering torchlight. In the center of the room was a large chair, not unlike a throne. Lucius escorted her to the chair, and gestured for her to sit. As the clock chimed the quarter hour, a hush came over the room, and two cloaked figures walked from the crowd to take their places on either side of the throne. Lucius walked the perimeter of the dungeon, explaining to the gathered wizards how he survived the battle, and how Lord Voldemort's spirit had come to him in dreams and inspired this plan.
As he explained the plan, there were scattered gasps and mutterings. Narcissa had become pregnant, and the pregnancy was manipulated with potions to reach the half-point on the night of the planetary alignment. Shortly, a ritual would take place, which would summon the spirit of Voldemort and allow it to enter into the unborn child carried in Narcissa's womb. If the child survived the ritual, the pregnancy would be accelerated and the reincarnation of Lord Voldemort would be born by the end of the year. Development accelerating potions would continue to be administered to the child on a regular basis, so that it would come of age in just a few years, and then the conquering of the entire Wizarding as well as the Muggle world would begin. Most wizarding folk believed that the Dark Lord was gone for good because that was what they needed to believe. They would be caught off guard and victory would be swift.
The midnight hour drew near, and Lucius wrapped up his speech. The two wizards who were standing beside the throne began the ritual. An incense censer was lit and intoxicating pungent smoke began to fill the room. One wizard began to chant an incantation in an ancient language while the other took his wand and made intricate tracing motions through the smoke rising from the smoldering resin. Even though the room was underground and had no windows or ventilation shafts, a frigid breeze began to stir in the corners and build into a swirling mist, which caused the torches to flicker and sputter. There were a few gasps and a frightened whimper or two as the spirit of Voldemort began to gain strength and cohesion. The clock began to sound the hour and the mist formed into a swirling vortex hovering over Narcissa's swollen belly. As it swirled, it began to glow and make a howling noise. One of the cloaked observers fell to his knees, followed one at a time by the others until the only people standing were Lucius and the two wizards performing the ritual. The glow of the spirit vortex was so bright that Lucius half turned away and shielded his eyes. The chanting wizard's voice rose to match the howling, and the gesturing wizard began to swirl his wand around the vortex as if he were stirring a cauldron.
As the clock struck the twelfth chime, the gesturing wizard brought his wand down onto Narcissa's belly and the vortex plunged through her robe, into her flesh, making her jerk her head back and let loose with an unearthly howling scream. At once, all of the gathered Death Eaters, including Lucius Malfoy gasped in pain and clutched their forearms, where they had been branded with the dark mark. The marks sprang to life with an eerie green glow that faded to inky black. While the gathered crowd realized what had happened and started talking amongst themselves in agitated low whispers, Narcissa's arms went limp and her head lolled to one side. The two wizards who had performed the ritual carried her out of the dungeon chamber and back up the stairs to her bedchamber, where the healer was waiting. Lucius followed closely behind, and saw the faint trickle of blood, which wound its way down Narcissa's pale leg. Fearing the child was lost, Lucius burst into the bedchamber behind Narcissa's entourage and watched from the corner, while the other wizards worked on his wife.
As the midnight hour approached at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the heads of household patrolled the corridors and Hagrid patrolled the exterior grounds of the school. All was quiet, which was a good sign. The students were all in their dormitories and hopefully sleeping soundly. While he hated such deceptive measures, Dumbledore had allowed the school nurse to slip a very mild sleeping draught into the pitchers of pumpkin juice served at supper. With so many anxious students, it seemed the only way to ensure a quiet night.
Professor Snape had just finished checking in on the Slytherin dormitories and was walking back up the stairs from the dungeons when the clock struck midnight. He felt a spasm of searing pain in his forearm and stumbled on the stairwell, barely catching himself. He looked down and watched as his flesh darkened to an angry red and then started to fade. The realization that something was very wrong hit him like a kick in the gut, and the panicked scream that pierced the night made his blood run cold. The scream was coming from Gryffindor Tower. And Potter was in Gryffindor Tower.
Harry tossed and turned in his lightly drugged sleep. Dreaming the same nightmare of a baby crying somewhere in a maze of corridors and rooms. In the dream, he ran through the corridors, as portraits of people he vaguely recognized laughed at and taunted him. He finally found the source of the crying. A black room with a large black cauldron, which held a swaddled bundle of squirming cloth. In the dream, Harry began to uncover the cloth from the crying baby, and even though he knew what he would see, he couldn't stop his dream self from removing the last bit of cloth. This time, however, the face was different. At the moment his dream self uncovered the last layer of cloth to expose the face of the baby in the cauldron, Harry realized that the face in his dream was the last thing his mother and father had seen before they died. His scar erupted in a white- hot blaze of pain, and Harry screamed a scream that seemed to emanate from his very soul.
After a tense supper with her cousin, Mira retired early, and made use of the sleeping draught the Potions Master had owled over to her before she closed up the tailor shop for the evening. If she would not come to Hogwarts for the night, he intended on ensuring that she slept dreamlessly and soundly until morning. Even though the dreamless sleep potion had the desired effect, she woke with a start at midnight and felt a cold chill in the room. After pulling the spare blanket up around her chin, she fell back into an uneasy but dreamless sleep.
All around the Wizarding world, animals grew nervous, and people woke with a start. Most brushed it off as planetary alignment jitters. But a few took it as the portent it was, and sat up the rest of the night, wondering what exactly had happened to upset the balance of their world.
Disclaimers: Nothing you recognize from the books or movies belongs to me, or is any way is implied to be my creation.
Chapter 63: The Awakening
Day after day, Narcissa Malfoy's unborn child developed at an unnaturally rapid pace. An unlicensed healing wizard mixed and administered the development acceleration potion to her in a highly concentrated dose. Under ordinary circumstances, such intervention would never be attempted. Continued use of the potion left the child physically frail. But, these were not ordinary circumstances. If the plan to transfer Lord Voldemort's disembodied spirit into the fetus was to succeed, the ceremony would have to be performed during a very narrow window of opportunity when the planets were aligned just so. The pregnancy had to be at the halfway point or the child would be lost. As long as Narcissa took the potion as directed, she and the baby would be ready in two nights' time.
With the child inside her womb growing so rapidly, Narcissa spent most of her days confined to bed. The healer provided her with a special ointment to help her skin expand to accommodate the rapid growth of her belly, but there were no potions to safely dull the emotional extremes caused by the flood of hormones through her body. The healer allowed her a minimal dose of relaxing drops, but no wine to wash it down with. Lucius avoided her histrionics by traveling the country, seeking out surviving Death Eaters and Voldemort sympathizers. The majority of Death Eaters who had avoided capture or death were not terribly happy to see him. They had simply gone on with their lives as if they had never been involved with the Dark Lord, and their neighbors were none the wiser. While a few were eager to hear more about the plan to resurrect their master, most wanted nothing to do with it and sent Lucius on his way. And hoped to Merlin that nobody had seen a rather sinister looking portcarriage apparate to their houses. As Lucius left the homes of those who would not hear his message, he warned them that no leniency would be given when they again felt the burning of the Mark.
Some dismissed him as a lunatic. Convinced that he took one too many curses in battle. Others nervously rubbed their arms and hoped that he was in fact a lunatic, as the alternative was too horrific to dwell on. Those who remained loyal counted the days until the re-embodiment of the Dark Lord would come of age and show those who lived within a fragile illusion of peace, that not even death itself could bring an end to his plans for domination of the wizarding world.
The Aurors sent to keep an eye on the Malfoy country estate noted the coming and going of a black portcarriage with covered windows. The occupant always embarked and disembarked while concealed in a long hooded black cloak. While anybody could have been traveling to and from the estate under that cloak, it did confirm that it was being used as an active residence. Spotters identified the operator of the portcarriage as Malfoy's groundskeeper. The old witch who served as cook and housekeeper was spotted around the house as well. Agents working in Hogsmeade and on Knockturn Alley reported seeing Narcissa's handmaiden and Lucius' valet being ferried to and from various business establishments, including a rather shady apothecary known to supply unlicensed healers.
Suspicions that Narcissa was in residence at the estate were confirmed when she was spotted sitting at a window, looking out on the countryside. There had also been rumors circulating around the taverns where dark wizards were known to visit. Rumors that Lucius Malfoy was alive and working on rounding up the old crowd for some kind of Death Eater re- emergence. Of course rumors about Death Eaters and even Voldemort being sighted had been circulating all along, but these were circulating among witches and wizards who were aligned with dark magic. And that made the rumors something worth checking into.
While the Ministry Aurors were hard at work, most of the students and faculty at Hogwarts were completely unaware that anything unusual was going on in the wizarding world. Only the Headmaster, Deputy Headmistress, and a select few others knew of the developments concerning Lucius Malfoy.
The spring term just getting underway, Ron, Harry, and Hermione were settling into their normal routines. The first Monday back at Hogwarts had gone well, but all three left their Tuesday Potions class in a bad mood. The assignment had been particularly difficult and none of the students, not even Hermione, had managed to concoct an effective brew. Professor Snape seemed to take a particularly sadistic bit of pleasure in gloating over the fact that Hermione Granger finally encountered a potion that she couldn't master on the first try. While the boys went off to Quidditch practice, Hermione sequestered herself away in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom where she kept her secret stash of potionmaking supplies, and tried the complex formula again, determined to get it right before Potions class met again.
Mirabelle DelMare received a chilly reception at her cousin's breakfast table. Susan felt put upon for being asked by Dumbledore to provide her cousin refuge from her scandalously complicated life. In Susan and Albert's eyes, Mira simply mixed with the wrong kind of wizarding folk, and brought these encounters with dark wizards upon herself. They didn't approve of her folksy working class manners and certainly didn't approve of her love affair with the notorious Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Even though the man was highly thought of by the mighty Albus Dumbledore, people still talked. And the gossip was that he had been deeply involved with You-Know-Who before defecting to the winning side. Albert wasn't terribly thrilled with the new living arrangements either, but felt that he couldn't refuse Dumbledore without harming his reputation among the wizarding world elite. Feeling sorry for herself, Mira excused herself from the table and went through the floo network to the tailor shop without any breakfast. Her first attempt to override the new security wards failed, and she was bounced right back through the floo network into her cousin's parlor. Cursing under her breath, she tried once more and made it on through.
She hated the security wards, she hated staying with her cousin, and she hated being a moving target. All Mirabelle DelMare wanted was to be left alone and allowed to live the life she had created for herself in peace. All the protective attentions given to her were affronts to her fiercely independent nature, and she found it to be quite oppressive.
Between dealing with his students, and dealing with Mira's insolence, Professor Snape had precious little patience remaining to deal with the liquidation of his family estate. His attorney in Diagon Alley had managed to find a loophole in the clause binding him to his family home, and it had been sold to a distant relation for mere Sickles per acre. Relieved of the burden of a ruin of a home, which housed only bad memories; the professor moved forward in his plans for a home away from Hogwarts. He nearly drove a housing broker to drink with his extremely specific security requirements. But, in the end, two homes meeting his needs were found in Diagon Alley.
The first building was nearly as ancient as Diagon Alley itself. At some point in history, it had served as the gatehouse for a medieval estate once situated on the boundary between Wizarding and Muggle London. It was imposing, cold, and dungeon-like. Naturally, Professor Snape loved it and had to be convinced to even look at photographs and blueprints of the second possibility. The second building at one time had been a watchtower of some kind and was tall and narrow with a winding staircase leading to a large main floor, which had heavily barred windows on all sides. In the end, the professor chose the latter, feeling that the slight elevation above other buildings in the area would give an advantage when watching for trouble.
Professor Snape made plans to supervise the renovation of the watchtower into living quarters during his first weekend away from Hogwarts, per Dumbledore's new household head rotation schedule. He wasn't terribly upset to have to wait a week for his turn, as he felt that some of the upper year Slytherins needed a firm reminder of just how their house was run. If he didn't show them who was boss during their first weekend back at Hogwarts, the household head taking on his charges during his weekend off wouldn't stand a chance with them.
As the first week of the spring term ended, the planets came into a rare and ominous alignment. It was a time when dark magic would be amplified and when dark witches and wizards performed unspeakable rituals and spells. Most of the professors and many of the students were on edge. Security wards and protective talismans were checked and reinforced. Defensive charms and counterspells were practiced just in case. At sundown on the eve of the night of the alignment, the school was locked down tight and all household heads were assigned to walking the halls. Mira was ordered by both Dumbledore and the professor to stay in her cousin's house, and cast every single one of the protective wards they had taught her.
The Aurors who were carrying out surveillance on the Malfoy country estate, were ordered to fall back to a safe distance, and continue their watch with extreme caution. They noticed a series of private portcarriages with privacy draperies apparate to and disapparate from the servants' entrance. All the occupants were cloaked and hooded. The Aurors could sense the dark magic building up in the air, and settled into their waiting game.
After the sun went down, Narcissa Malfoy was visited one last time by the healer, who administered a series of potions, which would open her womb to spiritual energy and prepare the unborn child for acceptance of Lord Voldemort's disembodied spirit. Nervously, she paced her bedchamber, listening to the voices of the former Death Eaters who were arriving to witness the ritual and convincing herself that the risk to her child was worth the outcome if all went as planned. At half past eleven, Lucius came to fetch her and lead her down to the basement dungeon, where the ritual would take place. She entered the dungeon and saw a dozen or more heavily cloaked and hooded figures, standing around the edges of the chamber, barely visible in the flickering torchlight. In the center of the room was a large chair, not unlike a throne. Lucius escorted her to the chair, and gestured for her to sit. As the clock chimed the quarter hour, a hush came over the room, and two cloaked figures walked from the crowd to take their places on either side of the throne. Lucius walked the perimeter of the dungeon, explaining to the gathered wizards how he survived the battle, and how Lord Voldemort's spirit had come to him in dreams and inspired this plan.
As he explained the plan, there were scattered gasps and mutterings. Narcissa had become pregnant, and the pregnancy was manipulated with potions to reach the half-point on the night of the planetary alignment. Shortly, a ritual would take place, which would summon the spirit of Voldemort and allow it to enter into the unborn child carried in Narcissa's womb. If the child survived the ritual, the pregnancy would be accelerated and the reincarnation of Lord Voldemort would be born by the end of the year. Development accelerating potions would continue to be administered to the child on a regular basis, so that it would come of age in just a few years, and then the conquering of the entire Wizarding as well as the Muggle world would begin. Most wizarding folk believed that the Dark Lord was gone for good because that was what they needed to believe. They would be caught off guard and victory would be swift.
The midnight hour drew near, and Lucius wrapped up his speech. The two wizards who were standing beside the throne began the ritual. An incense censer was lit and intoxicating pungent smoke began to fill the room. One wizard began to chant an incantation in an ancient language while the other took his wand and made intricate tracing motions through the smoke rising from the smoldering resin. Even though the room was underground and had no windows or ventilation shafts, a frigid breeze began to stir in the corners and build into a swirling mist, which caused the torches to flicker and sputter. There were a few gasps and a frightened whimper or two as the spirit of Voldemort began to gain strength and cohesion. The clock began to sound the hour and the mist formed into a swirling vortex hovering over Narcissa's swollen belly. As it swirled, it began to glow and make a howling noise. One of the cloaked observers fell to his knees, followed one at a time by the others until the only people standing were Lucius and the two wizards performing the ritual. The glow of the spirit vortex was so bright that Lucius half turned away and shielded his eyes. The chanting wizard's voice rose to match the howling, and the gesturing wizard began to swirl his wand around the vortex as if he were stirring a cauldron.
As the clock struck the twelfth chime, the gesturing wizard brought his wand down onto Narcissa's belly and the vortex plunged through her robe, into her flesh, making her jerk her head back and let loose with an unearthly howling scream. At once, all of the gathered Death Eaters, including Lucius Malfoy gasped in pain and clutched their forearms, where they had been branded with the dark mark. The marks sprang to life with an eerie green glow that faded to inky black. While the gathered crowd realized what had happened and started talking amongst themselves in agitated low whispers, Narcissa's arms went limp and her head lolled to one side. The two wizards who had performed the ritual carried her out of the dungeon chamber and back up the stairs to her bedchamber, where the healer was waiting. Lucius followed closely behind, and saw the faint trickle of blood, which wound its way down Narcissa's pale leg. Fearing the child was lost, Lucius burst into the bedchamber behind Narcissa's entourage and watched from the corner, while the other wizards worked on his wife.
As the midnight hour approached at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the heads of household patrolled the corridors and Hagrid patrolled the exterior grounds of the school. All was quiet, which was a good sign. The students were all in their dormitories and hopefully sleeping soundly. While he hated such deceptive measures, Dumbledore had allowed the school nurse to slip a very mild sleeping draught into the pitchers of pumpkin juice served at supper. With so many anxious students, it seemed the only way to ensure a quiet night.
Professor Snape had just finished checking in on the Slytherin dormitories and was walking back up the stairs from the dungeons when the clock struck midnight. He felt a spasm of searing pain in his forearm and stumbled on the stairwell, barely catching himself. He looked down and watched as his flesh darkened to an angry red and then started to fade. The realization that something was very wrong hit him like a kick in the gut, and the panicked scream that pierced the night made his blood run cold. The scream was coming from Gryffindor Tower. And Potter was in Gryffindor Tower.
Harry tossed and turned in his lightly drugged sleep. Dreaming the same nightmare of a baby crying somewhere in a maze of corridors and rooms. In the dream, he ran through the corridors, as portraits of people he vaguely recognized laughed at and taunted him. He finally found the source of the crying. A black room with a large black cauldron, which held a swaddled bundle of squirming cloth. In the dream, Harry began to uncover the cloth from the crying baby, and even though he knew what he would see, he couldn't stop his dream self from removing the last bit of cloth. This time, however, the face was different. At the moment his dream self uncovered the last layer of cloth to expose the face of the baby in the cauldron, Harry realized that the face in his dream was the last thing his mother and father had seen before they died. His scar erupted in a white- hot blaze of pain, and Harry screamed a scream that seemed to emanate from his very soul.
After a tense supper with her cousin, Mira retired early, and made use of the sleeping draught the Potions Master had owled over to her before she closed up the tailor shop for the evening. If she would not come to Hogwarts for the night, he intended on ensuring that she slept dreamlessly and soundly until morning. Even though the dreamless sleep potion had the desired effect, she woke with a start at midnight and felt a cold chill in the room. After pulling the spare blanket up around her chin, she fell back into an uneasy but dreamless sleep.
All around the Wizarding world, animals grew nervous, and people woke with a start. Most brushed it off as planetary alignment jitters. But a few took it as the portent it was, and sat up the rest of the night, wondering what exactly had happened to upset the balance of their world.