- CHAPTER TWENTY -
Moonstones
"-ry. Harry?"
Hermione's worried face swam into focus, or as much of it as he ever got without his glasses. He tried to sit up, but she pushed him back.
"Don't try and get up, Harry. You're still very weak."
He tried to protest that, and found it more difficult than anticipated. "Wh'appened?" he managed to force out.
"Your potion went wrong. Well, actually, it didn't: it worked far too well. It must have been too strong, and you should never have drunk it all at once like that - Harry, what were you thinking? Professor Snape gave you the antidote, but you wouldn't swallow it, and when he used Vitalis to keep your heart going his wand wouldn't work properly... After that he literally picked you up and ran all the way to the hospital wing. You should have seen him, Harry, he was so worried - he must have thought he'd killed you!"
Harry's eyes must have communicated his disbelief.
Hermione pulled a face. "Well, all right, what he said was that you'd nearly killed yourself with your own stupidity, but you could tell he felt guilty about it."
"Worried what Dumbledore would say if he killed me, more like," Harry rasped.
Hermione gave him a reproachful look, but apparently decided this was not the time to take him to task for it. She leaned closer. "Listen, Harry. I was doing some research into blue moons before Potions, and I found out-"
She shut up as Madam Pomfrey bustled into the room. The matron immediately tutted in aggressive dismay. "Out! Out. Was I not clear? I let you sit in to keep an eye on him because we're so busy, but you're not to harass the poor boy now he's awake. Out!"
Harry heaved a heavy sigh and lay back, knowing from far too many times' experience that there was no point arguing.
Truth to tell, he did feel exhausted and rather ill once Hermione had gone. He dozed off for a while, and didn't wake up until late evening when Dumbledore came in to see him.
"Ah, Harry. Feeling better?"
He blinked, and tried not to look half-asleep. "Yes, sir. When can I get out of here?"
The Headmaster smiled at him. "Not for a while yet, Mr. Potter, I'm afraid. Madam Pomfrey wishes to keep you under observation for at least another night. Injuries are becoming rather frequent under the current circumstances, and unfortunately our cures are no longer as reliable as we would wish."
Harry clenched his fists helplessly against the bedcovers. "But I should be out, doing things. Trying to solve the clues..."
"Time is, indeed, of the essence, Mr. Potter... but do not forget you have friends and allies to rally to your cause." He smiled enigmatically. "Incidentally, you should tell Miss Granger that she should look to your Potions lessons for the answer to her dilemma."
He turned away, as if dispensing this piece of impenetrable advice had covered his responsibilities. Harry suddenly felt a sharp stab of anger. "Professor - why didn't you start looking for the clues to the Curse of Durand?" he demanded. "You said yourself it's easier for someone with a strong connection to the Founders and the secrets of the castle, and-"
"Do you understand, Harry, why Professor Snape's attempt to cure you failed so drastically earlier today?"
He curled his lip in irritated confusion at the abrupt change of subject. "Yes, it's because of the Thaumentors. They drain people's magic, and the more of it you have-" He stopped abruptly.
Dumbledore just gave him a slight smile, confirming his horrifying suspicion. "I must admit that so far, it has been an... educational experience, and one not entirely without merit." He left.
Harry lay back and stared at the ceiling, stunned. Even if he wasn't sure he could trust Dumbledore any more, he had still believed in him absolutely - Dumbledore was the greatest wizard of their age, everyone knew that without question. And now...
Now, thanks to the Thaumentors, he was as helpless as the rest of them, perhaps even more so. Which meant that finding the solution to the Curse was truly on his own shoulders... and if he couldn't do it, there was no guarantee anyone else would be there to help him.
Ron and Neville came to see him later that evening, and they talked of nothing very consequential and played Exploding Snap until Madam Pomfrey angrily accused them of agitating her other patients. Apparently Hermione had exhausted her Harry visiting quota earlier in the day, and wouldn't be allowed back until tomorrow. Harry was grateful for the others' warm and undemanding company. Ron seemed to have come back to himself at last after the way he had been acting since the news of Percy's death, although there was still a distant and oddly mature look that settled over his face at moments.
Despite the disturbing revelation from Professor Dumbledore, Harry actually slept better than he had for a long time. He could almost feel grateful to Professor Snape for nearly killing him; the exhaustion from the effects of the Desanguinating Draught was enough to make him sleep the whole night through without a single hint of a bad dream.
He felt positively bouncy with energy by the next morning, but Madam Pomfrey insisted on keeping him in all the way through Defence Against the Dark Arts and the first half of double Transfiguration. She finally, reluctantly let him go when Ron and Hermione came to see him at lunchtime, ordering him to go straight to bed and rest up over the weekend.
Instead, the three of them immediately got to work on solving the Ravenclaw clue.
"I did some research into blue moons." Hermione repeated her news of the day before. "It was the 'over' that was the clue: 'Over a blue moon will appear the path the hour reveals'. It's talking about moonstones, I think." She switched into her lecturing mode. "You see, it's actually technically incorrect to use 'once in a blue moon' to just mean 'never' or 'very rarely'. A blue moon is a genuine measure of time - one occurs every three seven-year lunar cycles, and that's when the very best blue moonstones are washed up."
"So we need to get hold of one of those?" Ron asked. "Where from?"
Hermione shrugged miserably, but Harry was remembering his weird conversation with the Headmaster. "Dumbledore said something about looking to our Potions lessons for the answer to your dilemma."
"Potions?" She looked puzzled, and then suddenly her face cleared. "Of course! We used powdered moonstones when we were making the Draught of Peace last year!"
"We did?" said Harry cluelessly.
"Yes. Professor Snape's bound to have some moonstones in his stores!"
"That's great, but how are we supposed to get them?" Ron asked.
"They're not restricted or anything," Hermione said. "We could just go down and get one out of the cupboard now."
"What if we run into Snape?"
"I'll tell him I dropped my quill yesterday when he was busy trying to kill me," Harry said.
"It was an accident, Harry," Hermione scolded. "And he saved your life!"
"Yeah, after he endangered it." He rolled his eyes. "Come on. Let's see if he's there."
Fortunately, he was not, and they were able to 'liberate' one of the small, blue stones from his stocks without being seen. The moonstone had a bright white spot that shifted when they moved it, but it didn't seem to point anywhere.
"What do we do now?" Harry wondered.
Hermione looked uncertain. "I don't know - I think the stone is supposed to lead us somewhere. Maybe we should go outside?"
They did, but wandering around the grounds with the moonstone held up didn't help them very much. "We're missing something," Harry sighed.
"Maybe the key's in the next part of the clue," Ron suggested. He was unusually patient and focused; come to think of it, he had been that way in the last few lessons Harry had shared with him. He seemed to have made some kind of silent resolution to take things seriously - Harry was both heartened by it and saddened by the knowledge of exactly what had shaken his friend's careless childishness out of him.
"'Over a blue moon will appear the path the hour reveals'," Hermione recited. "Then the start of the next verse is: 'When traced along the course it takes, the road meets a dead end'. It's supposed to be showing us a path, but I don't see..."
"'The path the hour reveals'," Ron repeated. "What hour?"
Harry remembered the results of her research that Hermione had been over-eagerly babbling earlier. "How long did you say a blue moon is, Hermione?"
"Twenty-one-" She broke off, suddenly getting the same hunch he had.
"Nine o'clock!" said Harry triumphantly.
"Huh?" Ron, probably unfamiliar with the Muggle practise of using a twenty-four hour clock, didn't get it as quickly as they had.
"In the evening. The twenty-first hour of the day." Harry glanced at the two of them. "It's got to be worth a shot."
"Bring the Invisibility Cloak?" was all Hermione said.
They left the common room together, letting their housemates assume they were probably on their way to the library. Leaving the building after dark was strictly forbidden under current circumstances, so they used the Cloak to cover themselves before they left the building. It was extremely difficult to move without one of them yanking its cover away from the others now; on the one occasion where they had a near miss with a member of staff, a scowling Snape on patrol, there was nothing they could do but stand dead still and pray he didn't walk into them.
"We seriously need a bigger Cloak," said Ron, breathing out in relief once the Potions master was gone.
"I don't think they're meant to fit three full-grown adults," Hermione said. Harry had to blink at that. Even though he thought of himself as grown-up, it was profoundly weird to think of himself as being a grown-up. He had a slightly nervous feeling that he really ought to be more mature by now. Or maybe everybody felt like this. Perhaps even Dumbledore woke up every morning having to remind himself that he wasn't twelve years old any more.
Actually, that might explain rather a lot about Dumbledore.
They shrugged off the suffocating confines of the Cloak when they were far enough from the buildings to go unseen, and Hermione checked her watch. "It's almost nine. Harry, have you got the moonstone?"
He dug it out of his pocket. "What am I supposed to do with it?"
"I don't know. See what happens when it hits the hour."
They stood around rather awkwardly, waiting for the last few minutes to pass. "Just as well they aren't patrolling outside too," Ron observed, looking around.
"The teachers are probably more nervous about the Thaumentors than we are," Hermione said. "They're no less helpless than us if they can't cast spells - and they're much bigger targets. Remember how the ones that were attacking Malfoy and Ron went straight after Professor McGonagall? They must home in on the strongest concentration of magic in... the area..." She stuttered to a halt.
"I really wish you hadn't said that, Hermione," Harry said tightly, after a short silence. They all scanned the skyline rather uneasily.
"Harry! It's time," Hermione said suddenly. He fumbled with the stone in his palm, and held it up above his head.
There was a brief pause.
"Okay, nothing's happ- yah!" Harry nearly dropped the thing as a brilliant line of blue-white light blazed out from the stone, like the beam of a lighthouse.
"Harry! You'll wake up the whole school!" Ron hissed.
"I can't help it!" he pointed out. He tried to smother the stone with the edge of his robes, but the light shone through the cloth undiminished.
"Quickly! Come on." Hermione led the way in a charge across the grass. Fortunately, the beam shortened as they followed it, almost disappearing entirely as they fetched up against a blank wall. Ron pressed and prodded it, but nothing happened.
"Is this the dead end?"
"I don't think so," Hermione said. "I think the beam goes right on through-"
"It might, but we can't," Harry reminded her.
She tugged the Cloak out of his hands. "Let me take this. I'll run in and find the other side of the wall where this goes through, and when I've found it I'll knock on the wall and you can follow me in."
"Okay."
They spent several long and nerve-wracking minutes waiting for the knock to come from inside. What if the beam didn't show through after all? What if Snape had doubled back and caught Hermione? What if the moonstone attracted the Thaumentors, and they were poised to swoop down on the two of them at all moment...?
There was a loud, dull knock on the other side of the wall. Harry went limp with relief, and knocked back. He couldn't tell if Hermione heard.
They headed for the nearest door and followed the corridor to roughly where they thought the beam had pointed. The moonstone was useless as soon as they got inside: the beam winked out, and Harry was equal parts dismayed and relieved. How would they know where to go now?
"Mmph!" Ron let out a muffled, startled sound ahead of him. A moment later, the shadows shimmered into Hermione, having covered his mouth with her hand while she was invisible.
"Sorry, Ron. I didn't want you to yell - Filch only just went by a few moments ago."
Harry thrust the blank moonstone at her. "It went out as soon as we got in the building. What do we do now?"
"I marked which way the beam was pointing." She indicated the ceiling with her wand, and Harry saw a trio of red crosses in a line.
"Good thinking," said Ron admiringly. Harry couldn't be sure in the dark, but he thought Hermione blushed.
They followed the corridor Hermione had marked until they came to another dead end. There were doors to either side; Harry peered through one while Hermione looked at the other.
"I think this is it, Harry. It looks like an old Arithmancy classroom."
"'A study of mathematics'," Ron said, remembering the poem.
They closed the door behind them, and were finally able to light their wands and see what they were doing. Harry pulled out his dog-eared copy of the poem and read it by wand-light. "'A study of mathematics makes two times your loyal friend'."
"Got to be another wordplay," said Ron. "Two times... mathematics."
"Look at this." Hermione was looking at the rear wall, which showed an eight-by-eight grid of squares, like a chess board. Instead of colours, however, they were marked with numbers. They didn't seem to be in any kind of logical order.
The two boys moved to join her. "What do we have to do?" Harry wondered.
"Well, this would be the logical place to start..." Hermione had located a square marked simply with the number one, and tapped it with her wand. Immediately, the entire grid shimmered and changed.
"Did that help?" Harry asked blankly.
"I think so... Now I need to find the two."
"Down there." Ron pointed.
"And four." Hermione found that one more quickly, getting into the rhythm of things.
"The six is there." Harry reached over, and Hermione urgently slapped his hand away.
"Ah-ah-ah. No. Two times." She touched the eight instead.
"Huh?"
"Trust me." She started prodding higher and higher numbers in bewilderingly quick succession: sixteen, thirty-two, sixty-four...
"How are you working these out so quickly?" Harry demanded.
"I do have a computer," she said absently.
"In your head?"
"No, at home, of course. But that's why I know the sequence. Binary, Harry," she said, as if this explained everything.
Ron glanced at him confusedly. "That has something to do with Astronomy, right?"
Harry just shrugged, and turned his attention back to the clue. When six figures you come to meet, abruptly turn about. The lady will reserve a seat for those who have some clout.
"Are you at six figures yet?"
"Shh. I'm adding." The mental arithmetic was apparently becoming a bit more taxing, and Harry was extremely glad he hadn't had to work this out himself. Without a calculator to hand, it would probably have involved a good long time, plenty of rough paper and a lot of crossing out.
He supposed it figured that the Ravenclaw clue would involve a lot of calculating. When he was looking for the Gryffindor shield, he'd had to go creeping down into the dark alone; to enter the badger's den, he'd had to understand Helga Hufflepuff's standard of fairness. Somebody like Malfoy would never have been able to figure out the identity of Helga's heir, because it wouldn't occur to them that Squibs and illegitimate children even counted as people.
Each clue seemed to require something of the qualities of its house to find the solution to. He dreaded to think what the Slytherin one was going to be like.
"There!" Hermione triumphantly pressed the final square, and whirled around. They all followed her gaze to the blackboard and desk.
"Nothing's happening, Hermione," Ron pointed out.
The lady will reserve a seat... "I think we might need to sit in the chair," Harry said.
"What, all of us?"
"I suppose." They squished together rather awkwardly, Hermione actually sitting down and the two boys perching on the arms of the chair.
"Now what?" asked Ron.
"Maybe 'those who have some clout' means... an actual clout?" Hermione suggested hesitantly. "Like, a physical blow?"
Feeling rather stupid, Harry thumped the edge of the desk. Nothing happened.
"Or a magical one?" said Ron. "How about Reducto?"
There was a moment of uncomfortable and embarrassing squirming as they all tried to free their wands without unbalancing the chair. "Ready?" said Harry. "One, two, three..."
"Reducto!"
He braced himself for the inevitable impact as they were blown back into the blackboard... and didn't feel it. Instead, the three of them, chair and all, were sent shooting down into a long, dark tunnel that reminded him rather of the vaults at Gringotts. They fetched up in a dimly lit, book-lined space, rather dazed.
Hermione was the first to recover, standing up to regard their surroundings with awe. "Just look at these books!" she gasped. "Look, look, look - there's an Avogandro - and that Bespelling Bewilderments - is that a first edition? And there's a whole shelf of all those debunked texts on the theory of Kineomancy..."
Their book-loving friend might be in some kind of library-based heaven, but Harry had eyes for only one thing.
Or rather, one extremely important absence of a thing.
"Hermione." No break in the chatter. "Hermione."
"Hermione." The addition of Ron's low voice finally caught her attention.
Harry slowly raised his hand to point. "We're too late."
In the centre of the private library was a small stand with a wooden shape on top, rather like the part-mannequins shops sometimes used to display necklaces and things. Whatever it was supposed to be displaying, however, was not there. A remarkably fresh trail of footprints marked the way from the chair to the denuded stand.
Their enemy had beaten them to it.