Author's Notes: This chapter was really enjoyable to write, too, actually. Just like the last one. Ahh, I absolutely love creating my very own OCs and giving them their own personalities, trademarks, quirky sardonic attitudes, etc. With that said, I certainly look foward to actually writing my own fiction someday, something not based off a very loveable little (or, anymore, not-so-little) boy wizard protagonist. Speaking of, only a couple more weeks until Half-Blood Prince! Rejoice! I find this to be a happy point of my summer, and I am not sure if that is pathetic or comical.
This chapter was incredibly, incredibly long on Word, and I know I say that about every chapter but that's only because they get lengthier every time. Which is great, of course. I find that I like longer chapters better than short, boring, what-the-hell-was-the-point-of-this chapters. And hopefully, some certain things were revealed in this, along with a couple major but perhaps slightly veiled plot pieces at the end - and also hopefully, on this note, you'll want to read on with more excitement than usual! If anyone is confused, don't hesitate to ask; it may be a lot to absorb and contain at once, and I know you're not all human paper towels.
And the faster you review, the faster I post the next chapter (which is already written out, surprise surprise)!
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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: GLOOMY HOLIDAYS
"So there I was, completely wandless, dangling off a hundred-foot cliff with only the sea below me. The griffin was slowly advancing on me, obviously taking great delight in seeing its soon-to-be lunch hanging on for dear life – or so he thought. I had one hand on the cliff, the other clutching the griffin's cursed treasure, vividly imagining what my funeral would be like. And then, just as the griffin charged forward and I began to slip, none other than Harry flew up to my rescue on his broomstick, safely securing both our lives from the hungry griffin. Isn't that right, mate?"
Harry looked up from his uneaten Christmas lunch to find the entire staff table staring at him in admiration. Ron was seated across from him, a look of pure elation on his face at, once again, being the center of attention with his heroic and slightly exaggerated tale. To say the very least, Harry was not in a mood to contribute to Ron's boastful story and felt sick with so many eyes on him, all waiting for him to launch into another account about Ron treacherously dangling off a cliff, risking his life for some bloody cursed treasure. He remembered the adventure Ron was describing quite well and was almost sure he was the one clinging onto the edge of a cliff a hundred feet above the ocean.
Harry nodded and cast his eyes down towards his cold turkey, which stared back at him grimly. He vaguely noticed Ron's crestfallen face; he was clearly disappointed that Harry had no interest in praising him and instead launched into another embroidered account, this one involving a mutated banshee who had been sent to kill him and instead, found herself falling in love with the bragging Department of Mysteries Head.
"You all right?" Hermione whispered on Harry's left. He turned his head to look into her bloodshot eyes and pale face, the apparent signs of a hangover, and nodded slowly. But he knew that he was not all right in the very least; in fact, he was far from it.
Just hours ago, Hermione had revealed to him what she had overheard the night before at the bar. Harry was surprised that she could recall so much of the men's conversation, considering her feeble state at the time, but was thankful nonetheless. As angry at himself as he was for letting Hermione indulge in too many alcoholic drinks, resulting in her intoxication, he realized that if he had not left her, then she never would have stumbled across the two Death Eaters, nor would they have gained such valuable information to the advantage of their enemy.
Harry had gone through a rollercoaster of emotions during Hermione's explanation; anticipation, shock, anger, and, to top everything off, absolute confusion. There was no doubt that one man seemed to be closely related to Bellatrix Lestrange while the other man, oddly, had been sent to watch over Hogwarts. Or, as he had put it, correspond with "that witch". Hermione and Harry both were baffled over this, wondering who he had been referring to. They also talked of someone Lestrange was "working through" – could this, perhaps, be the same person? Maybe even the person who had tipped the Ministry off about the secrecy of the Aurors' investigations? And, branching out even farther, this could yet again be the very insane person who had committed the ghastly murder of the Hogwarts student not long ago. While specific information about this intangible character eluded Harry, he was sure that all destruction was the doing of one mad follower of Bellatrix Lestrange. Too many coincidences were piling on top of each other and, even though Hermione disagreed, Harry knew this meant they were stumbling onto facts.
"She definitely has your records book, Harry," Hermione had said reluctantly earlier that morning. He knew she was not fully enlightened as to what the book specifically contained, but noticed her uneasiness even so. "She's the one who stole it."
Harry had not doubted this in the very least, but now it was clear; demented, lethal Death Eaters somewhere in Eastern Europe were pouring over the Aurors' records book that very minute, taking in all of their notations and discoveries, probably amazed at their cunning and, at the same time, amused by their stupidity of letting it fall into the rival's hands. Harry frowned and gritted his teeth at this very thought; how could he be so careless? The Aurors had all trusted him to protect their vital tome of information and instead, he had practically handed it to Lestrange. Though a fair amount of the knowledge was carefully stored away in his brain, the intelligence that had been so difficult to obtain and secure was now futile; Lestrange herself now knew of all the Aurors had picked up, now knew of everything they had worked towards restricting in hopes of catching the Death Eaters off guard with all their data. The magnitude of the situation weighed down upon Harry in the form of a dark, gloomy guilt. Moody's going to murder me for this, he thought in desolation.
Another fact that was finally clear was that of the students' mysterious behavior; this was certainly the work of Lestrange and the Death Eaters. Though he had suspected the two to be tied together, he had no idea the happenings were so directly connected nor that they were part of Lestrange's sick yet carefully crafted plot. He tried to piece together all the information he had gained that morning, but his head began throbbing, as it had been doing so often lately. He realized they were in desperate need of another meeting with the Aurors, one without those damned Ministry officials breathing down their necks and chastising them. This information urgently needed to be conveyed to the Aurors – this was what they had all been waiting for. New information had been scarce, but thanks to Hermione, they had just gained some quite valuable facts without the knowledge of their opponents. Perhaps these facts would be it, the ones that would fuse together the entire mystery, the ones that would bring down Lestrange and her followers and save the wizarding world from falling into their villainous clutches…
"Harry?"
"I'm fine," he muttered vaguely in Hermione's direction. He did not feel up to spilling out the contents of his mind at the moment, especially not in the midst of a dozen unaware chattering professors.
Hermione seemed unconvinced and gave him a look of weary concern, but pursed her lips and kept quiet nonetheless. Her eyes fell to her plate and Harry, following her gaze, found that she had not touched her Christmas lunch either.
Laughter tinkled throughout the air again, which was heavy with the scent of evergreens, quite unlike Ron's boasting laugh (he was now plowing through some act of hilarity during one of his adventurous trips) and Harry's head snapped up to find Ginny, Bella, and Desdemona immersed in conversation several seats down the table. Ginny was relating a story from a childhood Christmas spent at the Burrow to the two women, who listened raptly, their eyes shining with tears of mirth. Harry wondered how anybody could be laughing with such contentment when so many dark, ominous things were plaguing him, and plaguing the rest of the world as well without their knowledge. He found himself wishing he too could experience sharing the joy of a joke, oblivious to the troubles of the Death Eaters. But he couldn't. He was Harry Potter – things were never that easy for him, he reminded himself with a touch of aggravation. Who else would take upon the responsibility if he wouldn't? It went without saying the Aurors would be rather useless without him, as skilled and helpful as everyone else on the case were. And yet here were other people, just feet away, basking in the merriment of the season, utterly unaware to everything that was currently occupying Harry's thoughts.
He was shaken out of his gloomy reverie when he realized someone was waving at him. His eyes focused on Bella, seated across the table and two seats down, who had been attempting to catch his attention and broke into a charming grin when Harry met her eyes. She was dressed in deep red robes, obviously reflecting the spirit of the holidays, that looked rather nice against her dark skin tone, he decided. Her curled, chocolate hair was pulled up into a messy bun, strands escaping here and there, framing her face agreeably. Harry noted that she was actually quite attractive, and was surprised he had not recognized this before.
"Daydreaming?" she asked, the word tainted by her accent and coming out a dozen times more seductive than if an English woman had uttered it.
Harry shook his head, a smile forming on his lips. For the first time in days, all thoughts centered around Bellatrix Lestrange suddenly slipped from his mind, completely forgotten in the task of willing his tongue to stray from saying anything that would make him come across as stupid or idiotic.
"Could you pass me the margarine, please?"
"Yeah," Harry muttered, reaching out to grab the silver plate and pushing it towards the Astronomy professor. She rewarded him with another dazzling smile and promptly began buttering her muffin, lapsing into conversation with Desdemona and Ginny once more.
Harry, however, felt his eyes linger on Bella several more seconds than necessary, especially as she was no longer gazing at him. There was something mystifying – captivating, even – about this woman whom the whole staff seemed to appreciate and, perhaps, admire. She had taken an immediate liking to him the moment he had arrived at Hogwarts; during their first conversation, she had revealed that she always had been interested in the work of Aurors, particularly in his. She had even considered going into the field but instead drifted towards Astronomy, due to her passionate interest in the stars and planets. She had spent several minutes describing to him the enormity of her subject and how fascinating it was; Harry found himself listening attentively, even though Astronomy had always seemed dull and pointless to him during his schooldays, right next to Divination. Bella, however, made Astronomy as interesting as Quidditch.
She had also proved to be a great help with the happenings at Hogwarts, much to Harry's gratitude. Though she was uninformed about everything concerning Lestrange, the Death Eaters, and the work of the Aurors, she still understood the gravity of their troubles and was always willing to assist. At the request of McGonagall, she kept her eyes alert for any signs of odd behavior during her midnight classes and always reported to Harry afterwards. She also confided in him that it was written in the stars that Hogwarts would face many difficult oncoming challenges. Harry was reminded of his own specious Divination professor at this, but Bella came across as quite authentic, and he respected that. He respected her.
But there was something beyond her beauty and teaching skills that mesmerized Harry. Bella was a woman unlike any he had ever met before, and since his life was usually so devoted to Auror business, he never had much time to dwell on the subject of women. He remembered his boyhood infatuation with a girl at Hogwarts, Cho Chang, who he never saw again after graduation; there had been one or two others, but nothing was ever sincere. Work always managed to get in the way and Harry always found himself taking the responsible route of remaining loyal to the Aurors. True, his female friends were never quite too happy about this, but as he hardly had any female friends left to speak of, he had never minded much. Until now.
He had always yearned for someone to whom he could pour out his mind's contents; someone he knew would listen and encourage him during times of hindrance. Ron was inadequate, as he usually faced the same problems as Harry and never had any words of comfort. Hermione would listen fixedly but her input was never very consoling; she was too logical and always managed to point out the reason in these situations, which Harry was already very well aware of. Naturally, there was no point in seeking out reassurance from any of his fellow Aurors because, as in Ron's situation, their minds were boggled with similar dilemmas and were usually too busy for any such support.
Bella listened. Even though he never confided in her his darkest thoughts that were not allowed outside the elite ring of people including himself, the Aurors, McGonagall, Ron, and Hermione, she was attentive when Harry needed somebody to be. He desperately wished he could share with her the other worries badgering him but knew that was out of the question. As much as he trusted Bella, they couldn't take any chances.
Her eyes suddenly lit up as she let out another charismatic cry of laughter. Ginny and Desdemona too dissolved into fits of giggles, like a couple of young schoolgirls. Bella raised her head, wiping tears from her chestnut eyes, and her gaze suddenly connected with Harry's, who grinned sheepishly and quickly looked away. He scolded himself for letting her catch him staring; she must think him terribly stupid by now, and he couldn't blame her.
He felt someone else's eyes on him and turned to find Hermione, in all her fatigue and weakness, smirking knowingly. Harry had an unexpected notion to tell her off for being so probing but it quickly passed as another thought, this time one completely unrelated to a certain dark-haired professor across the table, passed through his mind.
Harry stood abruptly, earning the gazes of the other adults seated along the table. He glanced from his uneaten lunch to Bella, who was looking still jovial yet slightly taken aback, to Hermione, who was conveying a sense of confusion, to Ron. Harry widened his eyes and blinked several times at the wizard seated across from him, who immediately gave him a quick nod of silent comprehension.
"Excuse us," he muttered, carefully avoiding the curious stares from the professors. He found Hermione's arm and tugged hard, causing her to rise to her feet as well. The three casually departed from the table, Harry aware of all eyes on his back as they left. Hermione, still very much within earshot, opened her mouth and began to form a sentence but Harry shushed her; instead, they left the Hall in silence, leaving three empty seats at the head table and two untouched Christmas lunches.
"Harry, I don't think this is such a good idea," said Hermione some twenty minutes later.
"I think it's a brilliant idea," Ron countered, a note of aggressiveness in his voice.
Hermione continued on as if she hadn't heard Ron (or, really, as if he wasn't in the same room with her at all). "This is really risky. Somebody at the Ministry could find out and track them down, and listen in on our meeting, or –" She broke off at the look on Ron's face and hung her head, letting the words reverberate around the room and then die.
The three were standing by the window in the straw-littered Owlery, hundreds of dark beady eyes peering down upon them, their owners hooting forlornly and adjusting their wrings. Harry watched as the owl he had chosen, a small but swift tawny, sped off through the wintry sky from which soft snowflakes were now descending. A letter addressed to Alastor Moody was clenched tightly in its beak.
While seated in the Great Hall lost in thought, Harry had realized they were in severe need of an unmonitored, unplanned Auror meeting, one where members of the Ministry weren't present. The information Hermione had overhead the night before greatly needed to be relayed to Moody and his fellow Aurors; perhaps with others who saw the situation for what it really was (dangerous, deadly, and quite dismal), they would be able to sort out the newly-collected information and find a few missing pieces from the great puzzle of a problem they were all facing. He indistinctly wondered why he hadn't gone to the Owlery that morning when Hermione had first given him details of the Death Eaters' conversation.
Ron was still unacquainted with nearly the whole story; Harry had thrown together a very sloppy summary to get him up to speed but knew there was much more to tell. He decided Ron could wait until later, when the rest of the Aurors would arrive and hear the tale first-hand as well.
"But only Tonks and Moody were originally going to come," Hermione said in a small, strained voice, clearly avoiding Ron's eye and choosing to ignore the scowl on his face. "Don't you think someone will notice nine Aurors missing from Headquarters?"
Harry shivered as a gust of wind blew in several large snowflakes through the wide, glassless window. "No," he answered. "Most of the Ministry have better things to do than baby-sit Aurors. And the Aurors aren't stupid, either. If they think it's a threat to come then they won't come. But this is serious information they need to hear," he added, turning to face Ron and Hermione with a grim expression on his face. "Anything concerning Lestrange they need to hear."
"When are they arriving?" Ron asked, now shivering himself.
"After the Christmas feast," said Harry. He twisted his head to gaze out the window again; the snow was nearly blinding and now coming down quite thickly, covering the grounds like a soft blanket and sprinkling the tops of the trees in the distance. "As soon as it's dark. They're flying by broom to the top of the Astronomy tower in order to arrive inconspicuously. I don't think it would be a good idea to attract much attention."
"And the meeting?"
"I know of a room on the fifth floor down the corridor from that statue of the three-eyed goblin. It's one of those odd ones that only appears every so often – I think this one you can only get into on Fridays or something, but it's good enough."
Though Harry was not in a mood to admit it, he knew Hermione was right, as usual; it was awfully risky to summon nearly a dozen Aurors from the Ministry to Hogwarts, especially as they were not Marshall Dempsey's favorite people at the moment. He desperately hoped everything would go off without a hitch, because, even though he would not discuss it with Ron or Hermione, he knew time was crucial now. Every moment mattered, and precious seconds were slipping away before his very eyes; who knew what Bellatrix Lestrange and her horde of followers were capable of with the records book in their hands?
For the trio, the remainder of the afternoon leading up to the Christmas feast was spent lounging around Hogwarts castle, basking in the radiance of the holiday merriment – or that's the picture they portrayed for their fellow professors, at least. As much as Harry tried to be cheerful, the prospect of relaying new information to Moody and the other Aurors and, of course, the ever-present worry concerning Lestrange at the back of his mind both spent much of the day occupying his thoughts. Several times Ron attempted to coax him into a game of wizard's chess but Harry shrugged the idea off, insisting there was no point as Ron would beat him appallingly in the end, as usual.
Christmas was never an overly exuberant event for Harry, anyway; on most occasions, he was in the midst of an important Auror mission and was too busy fending off Dark wizards to celebrate. The Hogwarts days of waking up to delicious food and a small heap of presents at the end of his bed had long since concluded. He had no family to exchange gifts with and though he did have a small-knit group of friends and acquaintances, time for all of them was more wisely spent defending the world than mulling over the perfect presents to purchase.
With a morose sigh, Harry let his eyes wander around the staff room, where most of the staff was currently assembled. In a far corner, Desdemona was setting off magical fireworks amongst a small group of teachers who were all cheering her on, including a very enthusiastic Professor Flitwick. Josie Hacklebush was seated close by, glaring at Desdemona furiously over the top of her thin glasses and making tut-tutting noises under her breath. Harry watched her glance around as if expecting someone else to put a stop to Desdemona's childish behavior, but as the rest of the room was absorbed in their own activities and, he suspected, rather enjoying the red and green sparkling shapes now hurtling around the room, nobody objected. Josie heaved a heavy sigh and buried her face behind a thick book, her eyes appearing every now and then over the top to fix Desdemona with a stringent frown.
The only other person in the room who was hidden behind a book was Hermione. She and Harry were seated next to one another, facing the crackling fire with their backs to the hubbub of the jovial staff. Harry vaguely wondered why anybody in their right mind would choose Christmas to immerse themselves in a rather dull-looking hardback, but, studying Hermione's face, he realized her expression was quite blank and her eyes were unfocused and stationary. He supposed that she too had more important things on her mind and could not bother with attempting to block them out.
Harry looked up as a figure appeared at the bottom of the staircase, swimming in layers upon layers of clothing and bearing an amiable grin. Several heads turned upon his arrival and, Harry noticed, their owners too were dressed in quite bulky garments. The person, who bore a great resemblance to a fat carrot, crossed the room towards the door, followed by the other strangely-clad professors.
"Hey, Harry!" Ron shouted at the inch or so of Harry's head that was just visible over the armchair. "We're all going out for a snowball fight, d'you want to join us?"
"Er – no, that's all right, you go on," Harry called after Ron, peering around the corner of his chair. Ron shrugged and ambled through the door with Professors James Horn and Jeffery Yang, soon to be followed by Desdemona, who was shouting after Ron about being fair and not using their wands (though Harry could have sworn she deposited her own wand in the back pocket of her robe). Another figure sprinted across the staff room to join the departing group, and Harry realized with a sharp pang that it was Braedon Keleher.
"Are we picking up Hagrid on the way?" he asked as the hem of his robes disappeared over the threshold of the door. "If so, I claim him to be on my team –"
"You can't claim people, Keleher," he heard Desdemona snap.
The argument between the two grew fainter and fainter along the corridor until the staff room door creaked shut, blocking out the conversation altogether. Harry glanced sideways at Hermione and noticed her cheeks were a bit pinker than they had been before, though her eyes were still stubbornly glaring at a certain point about halfway down the page. He felt a fiery rage burn inside him at the thought of the Flying professor, a rage quite unrelated to his feelings towards Lestrange and the Death Eaters.
Braedon had, no nobody's surprise, showed up at the school just following breakfast with a swagger to his walk and alcohol apparent on his breath. Harry suspected correctly he spent the remainder of the night after his and Hermione's departure at the Rogue Chimaera, drinking to his full capacity and being quite friendly to anyone who could tolerate his behavior. For a moment, he wished that he had accompanied Ron's group out to the grounds, just so he could face Braedon Keleher and perhaps charm a couple snowballs to hit him so forcefully he would find trouble in ever regaining consciousness. He was angry at himself for letting the young, egoistical professor dupe him into believing that he was indeed a respectable gentleman. This anger, however, came nowhere close to matching the fury Harry felt towards Keleher himself – fury at using Hermione for his own twisted pleasure, intoxicating her quite knowingly and enjoying doing so. He felt sick at the thought of what could have happened had Hermione not staggered away from Keleher and experienced a momentary surge of pride in his friend's own strength and willpower.
He and Hermione had avoided the subject up until now. Harry had a slight suspicion Hermione did not want to talk about Braedon or what went on the night before, other than the attendance of the two Death Eaters at the bar. She had a reputation that had been worked towards with difficulty and determination and knew that she did not fancy it to be marred by such an unworthy man. Harry kept quiet about the incident, even to Ron, mainly because he knew that if Ron ever found out, Braedon would be quite unable to ever mount a broom again. He found himself smiling wryly at this, not exactly knowing why.
"What are you grinning about?" Hermione asked wearily, looking up from her book entitled Teaching Methods of the Fifteenth Century for the first time all afternoon.
"Nothing."
"Listen, I've been thinking," she said suddenly after a few moments of silence. She snapped shut her book, cast it aside, and straightened her posture, looking Harry in the face. Her dull expression of fatigue and anxiety matched Harry's own, he was sure. With a quick glance over her chair at the bustling staff room, Hermione lowered her voice to a near whisper. "If the Aurors are arriving after the feast on the top of the Astronomy tower, they'll have to do it discreetly."
"I know that, Hermione," said Harry, feeling irked to be bothered with such pointless information he already knew.
"Well, we won't want anyone to see them," she continued, eyeing Professor Sprout charily, even though she was a good ten feet away from the whispering duo and seemed deeply immersed in a rather lengthy essay. "That's Bella's tower, you know."
Harry had an urge to insert a sarcastic remark at this but decided against it, instead allowing Hermione to plow on through her seemingly futile chat.
"We'll have to lure her away to avoid awkward questioning. If a group of Aurors suddenly appeared outside my office window, I'm sure there would be quite a few inquiries running through my mind. But I'd probably hex them on impulse first, and we can't have that."
"What's your point, Hermione?" Harry asked.
"I thought that perhaps Ginny could intercept," said Hermione matter-of-factly. "She wouldn't be too doubtful; she was a part of the Order and all and is more aware of what's going on than most of the staff. I think I'll ask her to invite Bella to the Christmas tea, or something –"
"Hold on," Harry interjected, suddenly aware of what Hermione was saying. "You don't trust Bella?"
Hermione blinked, obviously taken aback by Harry's accusation. "I didn't say that, Harry, I just –"
"But you don't trust her, do you?" he demanded. He craned his neck around in search of the person in question, only to find Bella absent from the room, which now seemed much emptier than it had just moments before. "What's the matter with her?"
"Harry, I never said I didn't trust her," Hermione explained exasperatedly. "I mean, well, she's rather in the dark about everything, isn't she? And she wasn't in the Order, she's from Italy, so –"
"Now you have something against Italians?" Harry exclaimed relatively louder than he had anticipated, pushing his chair back and jumping to his feet. He attracted the severe glare of Josie Hacklebush and could her hear tut-tutting disapprovingly under her breath again.
"You're being ridiculous," Hermione hissed, grabbing the sleeve of his robe and pulling him back into his seat. "Not to mention loud and disturbing, mind you. I'm not discriminating Bella or the Italians or anyone, so stop jumping down my throat at things I never even said."
Harry was too annoyed to apologize and instead fixed Hermione with a steely frown. She didn't know Bella like he did; Bella was as dependable as anyone, didn't she see? He would trust her with his life as much as he would Ginny. Luring her away from her own tower seemed pointless, a waste of time and energy, especially when Harry wished Bella wasn't in the dark about the whole tribulation. He wanted the Astronomy professor to be able to share his thoughts, listen as he confided in her, accompany them to the meeting and offer her insight, then come up with a miraculous solution and prove herself to be commendable, as Hermione seemed to believe she was not –
"Please, Harry," Hermione begged, a note of distress in her voice. "Just – just listen to me, all right? I know what I'm doing." When her request was met with yet another glower, she added, "I don't think it's a good idea to involve more people than necessary. McGonagall would disapprove, as would the Aurors, I'm sure. I know you like Bella, Harry, but –"
"What?" he said sharply, the scowl fading from his face.
"– as trustworthy as she undoubtedly is, we can't take any chances."
Harry took advantage of a minute's silence, closing his eyes and attempting to shut out the sinister wave of thoughts descending upon his already-battered brain. He knew Hermione was right – when was she ever wrong? He couldn't take this anymore; though the room was much emptier now that a good portion of the staff was currently beating each other mercilessly with snowballs on the Hogwarts grounds, the walls seemed to be slowly closing in on him, suffocating him until he began to doubt he could still breathe. Harry constricted his chest and inhaled a delicious, fresh breath of air, earning an odd look from Hermione, but he paid no attention. He stood again, this time with the intention of going someplace. Where exactly, he was not sure.
"Right," he said with false enthusiasm. "You go talk to Ginny and – and get that settled, then. I've got… something to do… that's not in here. I'll see you at the feast," he finished, feeling somewhat ashamed for making such a lame excuse and held up a hand in an indifferent wave. Hermione looked after him, worry etched across her face again, as Harry darted across the staff room toward the door which was now looking more inviting than ever.
"This pudding is bloody brilliant, don't you agree, Harry?" Ron asked through a rather large and revolting mouthful of food, brandishing his spoon in the air.
Harry nodded absently, having finished his first helping of pudding long ago, while Ron was on his fourth. Ron was not the only one raving about the Hogwarts cuisine, however; the staff table and small group of students remaining behind for the holidays were all completely engrossed in the delectable feast, their silverware clinking throughout the Great Hall amid the delightful chatter.
From across the table, Hermione shot Ron a sickened glare and Harry was sure she would have reprimanded him with relish had they been on speaking terms. Instead, she sat immobile in her chair, writhing her hands in her lap and wearing a slightly nervous expression.
The enchanted ceiling above stated that the sun was now setting low in the sky and stars were popping into view across the heavens. Harry glanced at his watch; the Aurors were due to arrive quite soon. He was eager to leave the Hall and meet with them, spilling their latest findings and unburdening his shoulders of the information. There was nothing he wanted more than to finally discuss the ever-growing problems at hand with the group of people he most respected and felt he fit into; but with Ron's current insatiable hunger, however, he felt they would never leave the Christmas feast.
Hermione was now opening and closing her mouth, as if debating with herself whether or not she should say something. Obviously she too had realized their time was running out – soon the feast would end and the teachers and few students would scatter throughout the school once more, but for now, it was completely empty. Emptiness was a necessity if they were planning to sneak the Aurors into the school undetected and hold, as far as the Ministry was concerned, an illegal and unrecorded meeting.
"I don't understand how it's possible to eat four puddings and not burst," Hermione remarked loudly, clearly having finally snapped.
Ron looked up for a moment, his mouth bulging with food, and scowled, but chose not to respond (to Harry's relief). Instead, he finished off his pudding in a similar way to how a cannibal would and wiped his mouth, looking to Harry.
"Right, let's go," Harry muttered, glancing again at the ceiling. The sun was nearly set and the sky was heavily occupied with stars by now. The three pushed back their chairs and began to depart from the table for the second time that day, but no one seemed to notice, as they were all too submerged in the excellent feast to spend valuable eating time questioning them. Harry caught Ginny's eye momentarily; she winked, then stuffed a turkey leg in her mouth and turned back to Bella.
The journey to the Astronomy tower was uneventful and mostly silent. Halfway there, somewhere in the distance a bell sounded seven times, signaling the beginning of a new hour. Dazzling moonlight shone through the high windows as they passed, thick glowing strips passing through the glass and spilling onto the stone floor below. Stars twinkled in the sky, and miles and miles underneath the unblemished snow twinkled back. The night was, for the most part, clear and unclouded; Harry found himself praying none of the Aurors were spotted on their venture to Hogwarts but knew he was only worrying in vain. The Aurors were more skilled at stealth than anyone.
Finally, after having ascended countless stone steps, the trio arrived at the top of the Astronomy tower. The night air hit them with a blast of surprise the moment they stepped outside, causing them all to shiver simultaneously. None of them had bothered wearing a cloak and instead were forced to endure the bitter, wintry cold. Anyway, Harry reminded himself, it would have been painfully suspicious if they had shown up at the Christmas feast decked out in heavy, bulky shrouds.
"Where are they?" Ron asked, the chattering of his teeth punctuating his sentence.
"On their way, I reckon," Harry replied. He too was having trouble keeping his jaw steady. "It's a clear night, we'll see them coming."
He, Hermione, and Ron sunk onto the chilled roof, their backs resting against the wall of the tower. Unable to form any worthwhile conversation, instead they wallowed in the silence, allowing their gazes to wander vaguely across the extensive sky. The ground below them appeared to be a vast sea of whiteness, impeded only by the dark line of the Forbidden Forest. In the distance, Harry could make out the glossy surface of the lake, frozen over by the bitter temperatures. Footprints and various cracks were visible across it, apparently from either students who had long since gone home or rather daring professors. Not far from the lake, he noticed several large mounds of snow with long and deep tracks surrounding them. He was on the verge of asking Ron who won their afternoon snowball fight, just to pass the time by making conversation, when his intentions were disrupted by an intake of breath to his left.
"Look, I think that's them!" Hermione gasped, rising from her sitting position and pointing.
Harry followed her finger and, sure enough, several small dots had appeared on the horizon. They grew closer and closer with each passing second, going from mere specks to ants to raisins to rocks. Eventually, nine fully-grown wizards were hovering on broomsticks just feet from the roof of the tower. The trio took several steps backward to allow for their landing; multiple soft thuds sounded, and then all was silent again.
"Blimey, it's cold out tonight," remarked a very stiff-looking Tonks, who had touched down first. She shook snow out of her short, choppy mauve hair, before turning to Harry and the others with a grin. "Wotcher, Harry. Ron, Hermione," she added, nodding her head in turn.
"Did everything go all right?" Harry asked at once, addressing the group at large. "The Ministry didn't ask any odd questions? You weren't seen?"
"There was a bloke looking up when we were just outside London," said Mad-Eye Moody in his low growl, brushing off his robes. His normal eye was focused on Harry while his magical one swirled wildly in its socket, taking in the sky, the grounds, and the assembled cluster of Aurors. "Probably thought we were nothing more than a few blinking stars, though. I wouldn't worry."
"And no, the Ministry doesn't suspect," added Romina Celestino. "The Aurors who remained behind have an explanation for our absence if anyone does pry, of course. But we aren't willing to take any drastic chances, so I'd say we have about an hour, at the least."
"Where are we doing this thing?" said Brom Lysander loudly. From the look on his face, it was clearly evident he believed he had better things to be doing with his time, though Harry strongly doubted it.
"I've found us a room where we won't be disturbed. I'm positive," Harry stressed upon seeing the look on Moody's face. "You can put whichever charms and locks on it you want, but it won't matter, there's nobody here at Hogwarts to interrupt us, anyway."
Moody muttered something inaudible into his right shoulder.
"Well, let's get a move on," Romina said brusquely. "I'm in no mind to stand out here and freeze my arse off. Harry, you lead the way, then."
Harry nodded and turned on his heel, his robes swishing behind him, and began to descend down the stairs of the Astronomy tower. Eleven witches and wizards followed him, nine of whom were still shivering, shaking snow off their clothes, and clutching broomsticks, all being especially hushed and surreptitious so as to not attract attention.
The corridors of Hogwarts were unusually quiet and still, save for the muted clicks from different pairs of shoes. Torches were lit along the passageways, illuminating various cold, anxious, and excited faces of the group. Every now and then they passed a dozing portrait; thankfully, none of the paintings felt the need to call out to the Aurors, even though Harry had a sneaking suspicion an eye or two was cracked open as they passed.
In what seemed like no time at all, the large group had arrived outside a gray, stone door on the fifth floor, not far from an ancient statue of a gruesome three-eyed goblin. On any normal occasion, one would easily pass by this door without a second thought, as it blended into the wall so well. Upon further investigation, however, there were indeed several cracks visible in the wall that formed the shape of a door. No knob appeared to be present.
"Is this it?" asked Tonks in a hushed voice. Harry nodded.
"We'd better hurry in, I think I heard something," Hermione whispered, casting a wary eye down the deserted corridor. "It could've just been that portrait of the giant snoring, but –"
Harry stepped forward and pushed on the door in the place where a handle should have been. As he had hoped, the door swung open in one swift movement, allowing for their entrance. He stood back as the Aurors, Ron, and Hermione hastened over the threshold and into the room; he glanced up and down the hall once more before following.
The comfortably-sized rectangular room appeared quite ordinary. There were no windows, and several torches hung at intervals around the room, casting a dim and flickering light across the large, gleaming table in the center. Chairs were arranged around the table and Harry realized with a slight twinge of surprise, upon counting, there were exactly twelve. He took a seat in a hard-backed chair alongside Steven Burns and Kingsley Shacklebolt as the rest of the group silently fell into place as well, their various conversations fading and their anxious expressions all intensifying.
"Well, Potter," barked Moody, a serious air about him as he stared at Harry. "Here we are, assembled at Hogwarts, holding an unlawful Auror meeting against the Ministry's knowledge while under the impression that you have stumbled across new and imperative information. We have, as Celestino said, roughly an hour to sort this out. Start talking."
"Last night, I – or actually, Hermione, she's the one who overheard all this and without her you wouldn't be here," Harry began (he shot an appreciative look at Hermione, who was seated across the table from him next to Tonks), "– we were both at the Rogue Chimaera down in Hogsmeade when she accidentally eavesdropped on two Death Eaters' conversation."
From there, Harry took off, re-telling the tale that had been bottled up inside him all day. At various points, he allowed Hermione to take over and do the explaining, as she was the one who had heard it directly. The Aurors all listened raptly, some ingesting the new information with pleasure, their voracious thirst for a new lead finally quenched. Others looked positively alarmed, horrified, even, at the prospect of Bellatrix Lestrange having such a well-formed scheme involving the Hogwarts students. Harry and Hermione were both sure to alter the account very slightly to avoid letting slip how Hermione had exactly arrived at the bar in the first place and her state at the time, and for this, Harry knew she was grateful.
Ron, who hadn't heard the whole story yet, was hanging onto their every word with such bulging eyes that Harry was sure they would fall out and roll along the table at any moment. Moody was listening with his brow furrowed and his magical eye, for once, focused forward on whoever was speaking. Tonks and Romina bore identical expressions of alarm, evidently not bothering to close their mouths, which were now gaping so wide they nearly touched the table. Even Brom, who, at the commencement of the explanation, was sure to emit long-suffering sighs at precisely the wrong intervals, was even sitting a bit straighter, his attention on Harry or Hermione. The rest of the group were all concentrating deeply without interrupting, and Harry could nearly see the wheels turning in their heads as they comprehended the information he was feeding them.
When the story was finally relayed to the Aurors (Hermione had wrapped it up, her voice trembling ever so slightly as she did so), Harry's gaze was met with ten startled and incredulous ones, as he had expected. No one spoke for several agonizing seconds. Then, naturally, Moody broke the stillness.
"And you're sure about all this, Potter?"
"Hermione's the one who heard it," he said simply. "I believe her."
This was met with more silence.
"I was there," Grey Deckers said, his husky voice sounding strange against the previous lull. "Dominic and I both were. That village they mentioned, the Muggle one that was torched out in Croatia, we came across it just after daybreak last week."
"Judging from their preceding activity in Greece," cut in Dominic, "we concluded that they were indeed moving in the northwest direction. This time, they hadn't done such a brilliant job of clearing their tracks, so we had several men tail them for a few days. We've nearly lost the lead by now, though."
"It did seem a bit bizarre," said Grey, staring vaguely at a blank spot halfway across the table. "We weren't even sure it was the work of Lestrange at first. But if she was just getting frustrated, it makes sense now…"
"Wait a minute," exclaimed Brom, who seemed to have snapped out of his uncharacteristically mature trance. He rounded on Hermione. "You were five feet from two raving lunatics serving Bellatrix Lestrange and didn't even bother to contact the authorities?"
"She was -" Harry was about to end his sentence in "drunk" but caught himself just in time. He realized that, from his and Hermione's scarcely twisted version of the story, it seemed as if contacting the Ministry had merely slipped their minds. He knew there was no way, due to Hermione's condition, they would have been able to catch the men, and truthfully had not thought about how helpful it would have proved to be to the situation. Clearly, Brom Lysander had.
"We didn't realize who they were at first," he invented quickly, carefully avoiding Hermione's eyes. "Don't you think we would have detained them if we understood who they were? And I thought you were supposed to be bright, Lysander."
"It doesn't matter now, they're gone," said Moody, waving one hand impatiently. "What matters is that we make use of the information we now have. One thing that does concern me, Potter, is our records book. Am I right in understanding you lost it?"
There was a collective muttering around the table. Harry grimaced; he had successfully managed to dance around this subject up until now. The day he realized it was gone, McGonagall advised him to send an owl to the Aurors immediately informing them of its nonappearance. He had managed to both forget and procrastinate, wanting to avoid the outrage that he knew he would meet eventually.
"He didn't lose it, Mad-Eye," Tonks said. "Lestrange stole it. You can't blame Harry for that. And if anyone else other than him had been watching it, we would've lost it months ago."
Harry immediately felt a warm rush of gratitude towards Tonks.
Moody seemed unsatisfied with this but grunted nonetheless, his magical eye rolling upward in its socket. "All the same, it's gone, as is a tangible copy of most of our information. And now Lestrange can consult it whenever she wants, all the data we've retrieved written in plain English for her pleasure."
"There's no use in mourning over it, Alastor," said Kingsley in his deep, booming voice. "It certainly doesn't help us any that she is in possession of it, but everything important is already stored away in our brains. We'll have to cope with Lestrange being fully aware of our knowledge now."
"So let me get this straight," said Ron. His face too was screwed up in thought as he attempted to sort out everything Harry and Hermione had reported. "Lestrange is controlling the Hogwarts students, assuming that the Ministry will become involved and focus their attention on their peculiar behavior –"
"The Ministry is involved, Ron," Hermione reminded him.
"– so that then she can surprise them and move on to controlling Ministry members and, eventually, Dempsey? Because she wants to be the Ministress of Magic? What the bloody hell is she playing at?"
"I knew there was a reason the Death Eaters didn't care about being sighted," mused Romina. Her eyes were round and full of sudden understanding, but on her face apprehension was still visible. "Didn't you think it was odd, Alastor? So she wants us to know they're back."
"That's part of her plan," Harry interjected, having been silent himself for several minutes. "This'll completely catch the wizarding world off guard and throw it into pandemonium. I think she's branching off Voldemort's idea when he returned, actually. Everyone's been thinking they're finally safe for six years, so reappearing now would be flawless."
"Yeah, that makes sense," remarked Steven Burns, who had not, until now, uttered a single word throughout the whole discussion, which was quite a feat for him. "The Ministry's so bloody unorganized now, imagine what a right state they'll be in when a couple dozen Death Eaters and a woman they all presumed to be dead pop up again."
"They already have, Burns," growled Moody. His magical eye rolled sickeningly toward the man across the table. "Haven't you been listening over there? The Daily Prophet's been reporting various alleged sightings for the past couple weeks, and I suspect any day now it'll be headline news announcing their return for good. Anyone who actually reads the Prophet is probably already convinced, though."
"I'm only saying –" began Burns, but he was immediately interrupted by Hermione.
"Gnomi Elencho… that sounds familiar," she murmured loud enough for the table to hear. "I know I've heard that before. I'm almost sure I read it in a book somewhere."
"She's read everything in a book somewhere," Ron whispered crossly to Dominic McAllister.
"No, she's right," agreed Romina. A contemplative, almost ethereal look crossed her face. "I've heard that term before too. I think I recall reading about it in a book… perhaps in the Ministry library, I'm not sure. I think it might be Latin, or maybe Greek."
"Well, seeing as nobody at this table is a fluent Latin or Greek translator," said Brom (his feet were now propped up on the table, much to Tonks's disgust, who had the pleasure of facing them), "who cares?"
"Then I'd suggest taking a language class," Moody snapped. "We'll sign you up first, Lysander. This book, whatever the hell it's about, is news to us. That explains what they were up to out in Eastern Europe, at least. If Lestrange is too busy concentrating on this book to do the dirty work of her Death Eaters, it has to be something significant."
"I'll search the library, Alastor," offered Romina. "I'm almost positive I read something about it there…"
"I have a friend in Wales whose family is Greek," said Basil Hardy helpfully. His harsh, gravelly voice was a new addition to the discussion, as he too had kept his tongue thus far. "I don't know anything about Latin, but I know they're still speaking the Greek language."
"Good," growled Mad-Eye. "You two get to work on that. The final thing I'd like to address that still seems vague to me is this witch Consuelos and Anthony kept mentioning. Any ideas, Potter?"
"I'm not sure, sir," said Harry, narrowing his eyes in deep contemplation.
"The one man said he was stuck here corresponding with her," Hermione spoke up when Harry seemed at a loss for an explanation, "whoever 'her' is. So that means that one of the Death Eaters is still around somewhere, probably relaying information to this mysterious person from Bellatrix Lestrange herself."
"And Consuelos said that they're working through someone very gifted and reliable this time," Harry said quickly, Hermione's words from earlier that morning coming back to him. "I think he's talking about the same person."
"Most likely," muttered Moody. He glanced down at his enchanted watch and tapped its face.
"Right, well, I think our time's about up," Tonks said in a would-be cheerful voice. She forced a smile onto her face as she pushed back her chair and stood, the other eight Aurors following suit. "Thanks again Harry, Hermione. We've certainly got quite a few more things to mull over now, and perhaps we can make head or tail of a fresh lead."
Brom Lysander scoffed, pushing past Grey Deckers and Kingsley towards the door and feigning relief that the meeting was over, only he moved slightly too quickly to convince anyone that the hour had been a total waste of his time.
"If you wander into any more nightclubs and run into Death Eaters, don't hesitate to owl us," added Romina with a somnolent nod in Hermione's direction. "But seriously, keep an eye out, Harry. You two better as well. If Lestrange is really using Hogwarts for her own benefits, we'll need all three of you on your guard."
The rest of the Aurors all bade their goodbyes, attempting to smooth out the situation with jovial grins and holiday wishes, though nobody could truly be fooled into thinking the circumstances were anything less than perilous. Soon, the room emptied one-by-one as the wizards, Tonks, and Romina ducked out of the room, glanced nervously up and down the corridor, then disappeared from sight.
When Hermione and Ron had their backs turned, helping usher the Aurors out of the room, Moody leaned down next to Harry (who was still seated in his chair, finding it rather hard to move) so that his mouth was but an inch from Harry's ear.
"Potter," he whispered urgently. "The direction Lestrange is moving, do you know which way it is?"
"Er – northwestern?" Harry answered, taken aback by Moody's sudden question and, truthfully, his unexpected presence beside his ear.
"And do you know why it's northwestern?"
"Not particularly," said Harry, watching Ron push a babbling Steven Burns forcefully out the door.
"Think about it, Potter. Think about what Consuelos and Anthony said. Lestrange is taking a risk carrying out her plans in front of you, Weasley, and Granger. She knew you three would interfere. And now the only thing standing in her way of achieving absolute control over the Hogwarts students is…"
"Me, Ron, and Hermione," Harry finished. He was able to perfectly recall the two men's conversation concerning himself and the others and was beginning to wonder why Moody was wasting time reviewing the topic. And what did it matter, anyway?
"Potter," Moody said impatiently. He was nearly the last remaining Auror in the room, as Basil Hardy had just disappeared into the corridor and Ron was finally separating himself from Burns. "Listen to me. Bellatrix Lestrange isn't moving northwestern just because she feels like it, understand? There's a reason, boy. She's coming after you."