- CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE -
Slytherin Politics
It was a glum and rather deflated trio of Gryffindors who gathered together in the Room of Requirement the next day. Even Hermione hadn't had the heart to attempt to read her way through Rowena Ravenclaw's private library, although Harry didn't doubt she'd be sneaking back there someday soon. He wondered if the room would let her back in. Perhaps - she might not be a Ravenclaw in name, but she almost certainly had enough of the house's studious spirit to be approved. His own mind, however, was wholly occupied by the item that should have been in the room and wasn't.
"Do you think Voldemort's agent could have destroyed it?" Harry asked nervously.
Hermione shook her head. "This is old magic, Harry - complicated magic. It's all so interlinked that I think trying to destroy one of the items would be like trying to destroy the entire spell. You couldn't do it, any more than you could bring down that whole hedge outside with a single Pruning Charm."
"So he's just hidden it. Can we find it?" asked Ron. Strangely, he was the least disheartened of all of them, focusing completely on what to do now instead of what they'd failed at already. Harry suspected it was helping him to have a problem that he could find some kind of damage control for, instead of the horrible aching uselessness that descended after the death of someone you had never imagined not being there.
He knew all too well what that felt like.
"Find it how?" Hermione asked, shrugging. "We don't even know what to look for. 'An eagle eye will see you clear' - that could be just about anything. Without the clue to guide us, we're completely in the dark."
"So we've lost one of the items, and we can't get it back." Harry looked at her. "Is there any chance we can still defeat the Curse without it?"
Hermione was wide-eyed with worry. "I don't know, Harry. I'm sorry. There's just no way of knowing."
"Then we're just going to have to try." Ron leaned forward. "And make sure we don't lose the next one. When's the next clue, Hermione?"
"After the Easter holidays," she replied confidently. With everything that was happening, Harry had half forgotten they were even coming up. "Beltane - the first of May. If we're following the stations of the year, that's when the next one will appear."
"In the Slytherin common room," said Harry.
"We need to be there," said Ron. "However they managed to get to the clue in Ravenclaw before we did, we can't let them do it again."
"How can we get in, though?" asked Hermione.
"Simplest plans are the best," said Harry, after a long moment where no one could come up with anything. "I'll take the Invisibility Cloak, follow someone in, and hide in there overnight. You two can cover for me if anyone notices I'm gone."
Neither of them looked exactly thrilled with that plan - but they both knew they'd find little better.
"All right," agreed Ron. "You'll just have to make sure you don't get caught, or Snape'll take about a million points off."
"Well, if he does, maybe we should try telling him the truth, too," suggested Hermione.
Ron rolled his eyes in a welcome flash of humour. "Hermione, I just suggested we should try that as a last resort sometimes. I don't think it's going to accomplish miracles."
Harry sat up and stretched, sighing. "Well... I suppose all we can do now is wait."
They waited.
The Easter holidays, which began the next week, were a much grimmer affair than Christmas had been. Everyone had been trapped in the castle too long now for even messages and parcels from home to lift flagging spirits, and the prospect of a big feast and giant chocolate eggs provided on Easter Sunday was marred by memories of the Death Eaters' holiday 'gift' at Christmas. There was no repeat performance, but that was almost worse - everyone was on edge the whole day, waiting for a shoe to drop that never did.
Harry himself spent much of the holiday in the library. With the more urgent business of solving the third clue over with, he'd finally remembered the odd behaviour of the Slytherin ring in his Potions lesson. The ring had never shifted back into its snake form without prompting before, and he was beginning to wonder if perhaps it had been something to do with his Desanguinating Draught. Hermione had said that Snape's charm to detect enchantments on the ring would not have exposed a spell that was only designed to react - so what if it was enchanted to warn about the presence of dangerous poisons?
"Were you trying to protect me?" he asked the little silver snake. It wriggled in his palm, but didn't seem to understand he had asked it a question.
The library proved to be surprisingly little help. Every Potions book he picked up had whole chapters on poisons to wade through, and none of them seemed to hold anything very useful. It was all about cures and nullification - odd as it seemed to Harry, nobody seemed to have devoted much time to the extremely sensible idea of finding out something was poisonous before you ate or drank it.
He would have given a lot to have Hermione's assistance, but that would have meant explaining that he'd been wearing the ring since Christmas without understanding what it did, and he could picture the expression on her face. Instead, he'd claimed to be doing extra research to keep ahead in Potions, a project that she completely applauded and Ron seemed less inclined than usual to term him insane for.
He was just flicking through Protective Precautions for the Prudent Practitioner - a tome that made Mad-Eye Moody look positively naïve and careless - when he heard voices coming through from the next section.
Slytherin voices, to be exact: one of them extremely familiar.
"You're an idiot, Ferus, if you think you can go against me and get away with it," came Malfoy's leisurely drawl.
"You're not so powerful now, Draco," grunted Maynard Ferus. "Your precious daddy's in Azkaban, and the Dark Lord isn't exactly making an effort to get him out, is he?"
"The Dark Lord rewards his faithful servants."
"Malfoys aren't faithful to anyone but themselves. Your time is over, Draco. The Slytherins don't listen to you any more... and they don't like feeling like their leaders have left them in the lurch. By the end of the year, your little gang will have no one left to support it."
Harry shifted in his seat, fascinated. What was going on here? Some kind of in-house power struggle? Was Ferus the fanatic who had activated the Curse of Durand to solve Voldemort's ends? Or was it Malfoy, making a desperate grab for power now that his father's influence wasn't enough to win him a place in the Death Eaters' inner circle?
"I have the Dark Lord's favour," Malfoy said coolly. "If you go against me, you go against him. Are you intending to try it?"
There was a sullen silence, and then footsteps as Ferus turned and stormed away. Harry carefully slid out of his chair. It sounded like Malfoy was the one who was in with Voldemort - which meant that there was a chance he had the stolen Ravenclaw item stashed away somewhere. Harry resolved to follow him, sure that if he had it, sooner or later he would visit its hiding place, unable to resist gloating.
He trailed Malfoy out of the library, wishing he'd thought to bring his Invisibility Cloak with him. Fortunately, the Slytherin seemed to be oblivious to anything around him, making his way towards the Owlery with angry clomping footsteps. "Maestus!" he called, barking at the owl as if it was a servant rather than a pet. "I need you to take a message to Father."
Harry stiffened. Lucius Malfoy? Was he free, then? Had Voldemort broken him out of Azkaban without anyone's knowledge? What about the rest of the captured Death Eaters?
He needed to see that letter. But how? He couldn't creep close enough without being seen, and if Malfoy suddenly found himself under attack, he'd just destroy it or send the owl out before Harry had a chance to grab it.
The Floating Eye Charm! If he could cast that and use it to see through the eyes of one of the owls... Harry risked extending a hand and making a soft sound with his tongue, and a handsome tawny owl flapped over to investigate. Fortunately, in the mess of shuffling and flapping owls, Malfoy ignored the movement.
Harry pressed the wand against the left lens of his glasses, closing his eyes. "Spectare Locus!" he whispered. With a quick mental apology, he then touched his wand to the top of the bird's head. "Conspectus Missere!" He launched the bird into the air with his hands, and opened his eyes.
For a brief, triumphant moment, he could see the inside of the Owlery layered over his own vision, but in a strangely bulged and colour-distorted manner. As the owl flapped past Malfoy he was able to take a very quick glimpse of the start of the letter: Father; I have been making arrangements to further our Lord's plans-
And then the world went supernova, his eyes felt like they were imploding, and Harry slumped down against the flagstones in welcome unconsciousness.
Harry awoke to find Professor Snape leaning over him, a face that ranked only slightly lower than Voldemort's on the list of images he didn't want to wake up to. He jerked back with a startled yelp, almost causing the Potions master to drop the dose of purple goop he'd apparently been about to force-feed down Harry's throat.
"Idiot boy," he said with a scowl. "You were warned about wandering the castle alone, but of course, the rules do not apply to Gryffindor's sainted hero. Sadly for the sake of peace and discipline at Hogwarts, Mr. Carmichael found you unconscious halfway down the Owlery steps, and for some strange reason considered this cause for alarm."
"Malfoy didn't send for anyone?" Harry demanded, mouth open. There was no way Draco could have missed his collapse - he would have had to step over Harry's prone form to go back downstairs, and he must have heard the commotion as he fell. Of course, it would be just like the vicious little git to leave him there unconscious.
"Quiet, Potter, I have no desire to remain here playing nursemaid to you. Quite why Madam Pomfrey felt that your case required me to hurry away from my work and bring you a restorative that could equally have been administered tomorrow morning, I cannot imagine. But I am here, and you will shut up and be cured! Now, open your mouth!"
Harry hastily twisted his head away like his cousin Dudley as a toddler, refusing any food that looked like it might have passing acquaintance with a nutrient. "No, sir! I mean- it wasn't the Thaumentors, Professor. I cast a spell-"
Snape lowered the purple mixture, and narrowed his eyes. "Of course. How like the great Harry Potter to injure himself through his own stupidity. What were you doing, Potter? Trying to fly?"
Harry scowled. What did Snape think, he was some kind of idiot who practised dangerous charms alone at the tops of towers just for the fun of it? "I was following Malfoy! I saw him getting ready to send a letter to his father, and I wanted to try and read it, so I cast the Floating Eye Charm on one of the owls-"
"Imbecile!" Snape's face, which had grown rather taut and intent when he mentioned Lucius Malfoy, went purple. "Surely, surely even you cannot be idiotic enough to have ignored the countless warnings never to try to take over a living creature's mind? Clearly, such considerations as the fact that possession of any sort is classified as borderline Dark magic do not concern you, but one would think that the chance of turning yourself into an even greater gibbering fool than you are already would give you a few seconds' pause."
"I was only trying to see through its eyes," Harry protested weakly.
"The eyes are connected to the brain, you moronic child! Except, perhaps, in your case, where said organ appears to be conspicuous by its absence. The Floating Eye Charm was never designed to be used on a living creature - a fact that, one would think, could be easily inferred from the usage implied by its name. You have only your shamefully weak constitution to thank for the fact that the spell terminated before it could do permanent brain damage. Not, of course, that anyone would be able to tell the difference!"
Harry almost retorted that his constitution was only weakened as it was thanks to Snape nearly killing him with the Desanguinating Draught, but realised that it really wouldn't help his case much. He had the sinking feeling that he had, in fact, done something rather stupid.
"I didn't know," he said miserably, instead.
Snape's eyes glittered. "Obviously not. And yet, once again, the fates conspire to shield Gryffindors from the consequences of their own stupidity." He stood up.
"Wait! Er, Professor." Harry felt compelled to babble out his reasons for trying such a risky spell. "It might be important: Malfoy was sending a letter to his father, and it said something about him - er, Draco - making arrangements to further Voldemort's plans."
Snape flinched slightly at the name, but did not immediately chastise him for it, listening to what he had to say. Harry struggled to remember what else he'd witnessed behind the shooting pains that were beginning to blossom all the way through the inside of his skull.
"Um, Malfoy had just come from the library. He was having some sort of argument with Maynard Ferus from the fifth year. It sounded like Ferus was challenging his power because Mr. Malfoy is in Azkaban." Harry paused. "Or, at least, Ferus must think so, but if Malfoy's sending him letters, then..." He trailed off.
Snape inclined his head slightly. "Well, that is... interesting information," he conceded. He smiled slightly, a sight that Harry would rather not have witnessed in any state of health, let alone when he was this nauseous. "So interesting, in fact, that the business of brewing a cure for the severe head pains you are most likely now experiencing will sadly have to wait for a more opportune time."
He turned in a swirl of dark robes, and stalked away before Harry could muster a voice to protest. His brain feeling like it was exploding, Harry fell back against the pillows with a whimper.
Hermione was, if anything, even more horrified than Snape at what he'd attempted.
"I didn't know!" Harry groaned for what felt like the hundredth time. No one had told him that trying to see through an animal's eyes counted as trying to possess it! No one had told him that the Floating Eye Charm couldn't be used that way. "I wouldn't have tried it if I'd known it was that dangerous!"
"Seriously, Harry, you could have been killed! Or worse! There have been dozens of recorded cases of wizards losing their minds after overloading their brains with too much sensory information."
"I was only viewing it through my glasses, I could have closed my eyes," he insisted. Hermione's lip was trembling, the way it did when she was horribly upset and possibly about to start launching herself at people and hugging or sobbing on them. "And anyway, I did get to see the beginning of Malfoy's letter," he continued hastily. "He was definitely writing to his father. Voldemort must have freed him from Azkaban."
"What about the rest of the Death Eaters?" wondered Ron.
"They could all be free," Hermione said darkly. "For all we know, Azkaban could have been taken over by the Death Eaters. We're cut off from the rest of the world - the teachers could easily have kept the news from the students to stop people panicking."
Harry glowered. "Yeah, that sounds like their style. Keeping us in the dark, as usual."
Hermione shook her head at him. "Really, Harry, even if they were, it's not such a terrible idea. Hearing about something like that would only make people more worried than ever, and we're all just as trapped as each other. What good would it do you to hear about what the Death Eaters are up to when you can't do a thing about it? It's only going to make you more frustrated than ever."
Harry supposed she was right. It was small consolation.
Much to his dismay, Harry was confined to the hospital wing for the remaining days of the Easter holidays. Professor Snape eventually did make good on his taunting promise of a headache cure, but it only lasted for about six hours at a time, and the nights in particular were just awful. It wasn't like the sharp, focused pain he got from the scar on his forehead, but sudden crippling flares of agony that distorted his vision. Madam Pomfrey assured him that the head pains would fade away, but they were taking their own sweet time about it.
On the Thursday Draco Malfoy entered the hospital wing, ostensibly for a 'sprained wrist' from practising Quidditch.
"Spying on me, Potter?" he snarled, when Madam Pomfrey had bustled off to the store cupboard. "Pity you're so incompetent you can't even do that without knocking yourself out."
"Still relying on your daddy to get you out of trouble?" Harry taunted. "Tell me, what are you going to do when he gets caught again and the Aurors exterminate him like the vermin that he is? Oh, but wait, you'll probably already have been killed by your own side by then. Voldemort doesn't have any patience for losers."
Malfoy's lips thinned. "And you'd know all about that, wouldn't you Potter? Did the Dark Lord actually kill your parents, or did your Mudblood mother trip and crack her own head open like you did?"
Harry just sneered at him as Madam Pomfrey returned. Insults he would have leapt into action over two years ago just seemed weak and puerile to him now. Malfoy didn't know a thing about real danger; he was just a stupid little boy, throwing around naughty words like a toddler copying their parents' swearing. It was pathetic.
Draco Malfoy was, in the scheme of things, a very little fish. And when it came to Harry's list of enemies these days, he didn't even make the footnotes.