Of course there was always the second opinion he held of his armoured outfit, which was currently holding sway over his thoughts. 'This thing is hot. And heavy. And absolutely exhausting to wear. Why couldn't I have gone as someone who only wears a loincloth, like Tarzan or someone like that? And how did anyone ever fight anyone else wearing one of these things? Dueling in robes is hard enough.' Then there was the fact that he kept trying to hold Hermione's hand only to be met by sharply whispered protests that usually went something like "Harry, those are my fingers you're crushing!"
The metallic monstrosity did give him the perfect excuse not to dance, however, which was definitely a good thing. But the only alternative to dancing seemed to be standing with his back against the wall and thinking about 'things'. These things included, but were not limited to, Auburn Summer, Hermione, how to ask Terry Nichten-Teach about his father's visits to Harry as a baby, the identity of that guy Hermione was talking to and what his intentions were, how he was going to tell Ron about the prophecy, how he was going to tell Ron that he told Hermione about the prophecy before he had told him, and for pity's sake, who was that tall bloke Hermione was dancing with?
The great debate raging in Harry's mind at the moment was whether or not he and Hermione going to the Youth Masque together counted as a real date. This one had been going on for two days now, ever since his return from the Burrow after his quasi-surprise birthday party. 'If she had asked Ron, I would have thought of that as a date. But instead she asked me. So this must be a date.' It all sounded logical, yet Harry couldn't help but think back to Hermione's remark when they were saving the Philosopher's Stone about some wizards not having an ounce of logic and wonder idly if he might be one of them. 'Of course Ron hasn't been pretending to be Hermione's boyfriend this summer, like I have,' his brain added rebelliously.
Some small voice in the back of his mind (not the one that sounded like Hermione's, thankfully) told him that this most likely was not a real date, although it could have been had he not been such a thick git as to not tell Hermione how he felt about her back at the Burrow. That was assuming that Hermione even felt the same way. One thing was clear, however. Harry wanted it to be a real date. Also, he wanted to have a word with that gangly brown-haired bloke who was getting way too flirtatious with Hermione. Real date or not, the guy had gotten under his skin.
Before he crossed the dance floor to make the acquaintance of Hermione's dancing partner, Harry was stopped by Terry Nichten-Teach. With some amusement, Harry noted that the young club owner had donned a set of wizard's robes that were light blue with golden stars dotting them, the exact same 'wizard's outfit' that he had considered wearing. In his right hand was a ridiculously oversized wand with a large yellow star at the end which, from time to time, sparkled incandescently for no reason Harry could see. "Great party," he exclaimed over the loud music that filled the Serpent's Tooth. "Tell Hermione she did a wonderful job. I think my father would have been proud."
Harry nodded and caught Terry's arm with his metallic glove before he could move on to talk to someone else. "About your father," he started, swallowing a lump in his throat, "did he say anything about...visiting me, as a child?"
Terry shook his head a little sadly. "No, I'm sorry. We weren't that close. We didn't talk about things like that."
"Oh." Harry's hand fell away from Terry Nichten-Teach's shoulder and the young man went to talk to someone else, a girl who was decidedly not Violet Mogle. He hoped Terry's girlfriend wasn't the jealous type.
Harry eyed the guy who was currently laughing at something Hermione had said with suspicion burning in his eyes. Willing his metal-encased legs to move across the room to the dance floor intending to make some sort of a scene, Harry was embarrassed to only make it halfway there before Hermione caught sight of him and moved to meet him. "Harry!" she called, a pleased look suddenly overtaking her features. "Having a good time?"
"Not as good a time as you're having," Harry retorted, nodding towards Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome who Harry now started to suspect was really a Death Eater in disguise. He had meant his words to sound openly hostile, but he couldn't keep the smile from his face that seemed to naturally form now whenever Hermione was around. Harry had never before longed for Severus Snape's ability to hide his emotions and found himself hoping that whatever happened between him and his best friend, this little situation would end soon.
"What?" Hermione looked confused and...playful? "Are you referring to my dancing with Kenneth?"
"Yes," Harry hissed. He had almost made his smile disappear, as if he had only partially completed a transfiguration assignment. 'Kenneth. What kind of name is that?' he thought. 'The perfect name for a gigantic git who's up to no good, that's what,' came a Ron-like voice from Harry's brain. Harry found himself wondering if perhaps Hermione had a thing for tall guys. Maybe she wouldn't notice if he started wearing platform shoes.
"Harry," she said with an amused and slightly embarrassed smile, "Kenneth's the janitor here. He's twice my age and he has terrible personal hygiene. You have nothing to worry about." Hermione gave him an indulgent laugh. "Honestly, Harry, you act like I'm prostituting myself out on the dance floor." She scratched her chin thoughtfully. "Although I did get some rather, erm, interesting proposals from some people when I told them I was a suffragette."
Harry was rendered speechless temporarily. Now that he got a good look at 'Kenneth', he did feel a bit ridiculous. He could have sworn that that was a moustache above his upper lip. "Right, well. Good. So he's not a Death Eater, then?" Hermione shook her head patiently. "Excellent. We can mark him off of our list of suspects."
"Are you certain we're looking for a Death Eater?" Hermione whispered into his ear as she steered them over to a secluded corner of the club and Harry felt a sense of relief that she was changing the subject, even though it was to a much more morbid one. "The magic behind this Auburn Summer ritual has only ever been used by muggles or squibs before, and usually desperate ones. Death Eaters rarely come from the ranks of anyone of 'lesser' status than half-blood." Her pronunciation of the word 'lesser' indicated her contempt for the importance of wizarding bloodlines.
"I'm sure there are plenty of pureblood squibs out there," Harry opined, "who would love to get into Voldemort's bad graces by doing something like this. We know he has to be involved because of the attack on Britannicus Leslie that I saw in my dream, but I guess we wouldn't necessarily be looking for one of his Death Eaters. Maybe a Death Eater wannabe?" Hermione screwed up her nose at that last word. "It's an American expression. I learned it from Violet. It means..."
"I know what it means," Hermione interrupted impatiently. "I suppose you're right. But if we're looking for either a Death Eater, or a prospective Death Eater, or maybe just a muggle obsessed with magic..."
"It could be anyone," Harry finished for her gloomily. "Anyone here might be the killer we're looking for." Harry thought anxiously back to Hermione's revelation of what Auburn Summer entailed: four people being bled to death so that their blood could be used in a ritual meant to ennervate the veins of some murderous muggle or squib with magical power. Hermione was also fairly certain that the snake that tried to kill Violet Mogle on their first 'date' had something to do with the ceremony of Auburn Summer as well.
"We can't think like that," Hermione insisted, shaking her head free of what were likely similar thoughts to the ones Harry was just having. "There has to be someone who's more likely than anyone else to be behind this. It should be obvious."
"Atlas Filch," Harry said insistently, as if Hermione had been the one overlooking something for a change. "He's the only suspect from last time around who's still alive, he was hanging around whenever Violet was attacked by that snake and he's just generally suspicious-looking. He's been skulking around the doorway ever since we arrived, glaring at us."
"Atlas Filch is a wizard, Harry," Hermione pointed out doubtfully. "Why would he need to kill muggles to get magical powers? He has them already."
Harry looked at her incredulously. Was she really not seeing what he saw? "Because his brother's a squib! Remember that whole Kwik Spell incident with Argus Filch from second year? Atlas must be doing this for him."
Hermione shook her head. "No. I don't think he would go to all of this trouble just to help his brother. Argus has a good position in the wizarding world for a squib. I don't think either of them would risk him losing his job at Hogwarts."
Harry felt like letting out a roar of frustration. "Fine. Let's say it wasn't Atlas Filch. Who was it, then?"
Hermione seemed to steel herself, preparing for Harry's disbelief. "You want to know what I think? I think the person who's starting Auburn Summer again is Violet Mogle."
"Violet!" Harry nearly choked. "But how? Hermione, she wasn't even alive..."
Hermione interrupted him forcefully. "Obviously I don't think that she was the culprit back when your parents were involved in all of this, but that easily could have been Frank Nichten-Teach. It was his fingerprint found at the scene of the crime."
"That might have been planted," Harry responded dismissively, although he seemed unsure of himself somehow as he spoke.
"Maybe," Hermione agreed, starting to soften a bit more herself. "But why plant just one fingerprint? Besides, wizards don't usually think about what kind of evidence muggles will look for." Harry let out a quiet sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. "Harry," Hermione began in that soft, supportive tone she had mastered over the years, "I know you want more than to just stop this from happening again. I know that you want to find the person who murdered your grandparents, find them and make them pay for their crime. I don't blame you. I just want to think this through, rationally. Consider everything before we do something rash." Her eyes searched his hopefully. "Including the possibility that the person who killed the Evans' might already be dead."
Harry felt the fire that was burning in his heart cool somewhat and his brain seemed to turn itself back on. Hermione was right, of course. Just like she had been when he had charged off to the Department of Mysteries. Just like she always seemed to be. "Why do you think it's Violet then?" Harry asked, an inquisitive tone quickly replacing his accusatory one.
Hermione stared at him for a moment, as if she were studying him for an exam. "Remember when we came here, when we sort of, er," her voice dropped, "broke in? We ran into Violet and were afraid we were going to get caught, but then she looked even guiltier than we did. She was up to something, I know it." Harry didn't look convinced, but he hadn't interrupted her. "And that incident at the lake when that snake looked like it was attacking her? It perfectly matches the description of a purification ritual associated with Auburn Summer, one where the wannabe wizard or witch prepare themselves to receive magic powers."
Despite the gravity of her words, Harry smiled at her. "So now you're using 'wannabe', too?"
Hermione returned his grin. "Only where Violet is concerned."
Harry wanted to stir restlessly, but the chain mail surrounding him had him pinned down, unable to move freely. "I still think Atlas Filch is involved." Hermione started to protest, but the look in his eyes made her stop herself. "But I'm not against keeping an eye on Violet, too. Good thing there's two of us, eh?"
Hermione's smile vanished. "Er, maybe we should have taken Ron after all."
A sudden jolt ran through Harry's body. "What?"
Hermione weaved her fingers together nervously. "Well, there is another person we should consider. Terry Nichten-Teach." At Harry's frown, her tone turned conciliatory. "He's not my number one suspect either, but his father's connection to this whole thing is a little dubious, he's had access to all of the records we have if not more, and he was hanging around the lake when you 'saved' Violet, just like Atlas Filch was. We can't rule him out."
"You could say the same about Lloyd Moseby and that girlfriend of his," Harry noted with a defeated tone.
Hermione gave out an amused sniff. "You're assuming she's his girlfriend just because they hang out together all of the time? I would have thought those Rita Skeeter articles that came out in fourth year would have broken you of that."
"Sorry," Harry apologized in a low voice, heat rising in his cheeks. "His friend that's a girl, then. We should probably watch all of them. See if any of them look like they're doing something suspicious."
There was a crash at the other end of the dance floor and all eyes in the Serpent's Tooth turned to watch Violet Mogle confronting Terry Nichten-Teach, who had his arm entwined with that of another girl's. Apparently she was the jealous type. "How could you!" she screamed, her high-pitched voice reverberating across the club. "I trusted you!"
"This is kind of suspicious," Harry noted as one eyebrow shot up in surprise.
Hermione's eyes examined the spectacle closely and then turned around to meet Harry's. "Isn't it, though?" As Terry sputtered excuses that didn't seem to pacify the hysterical Violet, Hermione moved next to Harry's ear. "This could be a diversion. We need to see what the other suspects are doing." She made a small summoning gesture with her hands. "Quick, Harry. Give me your invisibility cloak."
It took Harry a moment to realize that he had indeed brought his father's old cloak with him to the club this time, in case any covert activity was needed. He had briefly suggested wearing the invisibility cloak as his costume to the Youth Masque (he was fairly certain he would win first prize) but the scowl Hermione sent him made him think twice about it. As he removed the magical object from his knapsack, Harry remembered that when he had packed it he had been filled with thoughts of himself and Hermione sneaking around at night covered in the cloak, romantically hunched close together, searching for clues so that Harry could best the dastardly villain behind Auburn Summer. He hadn't quite thought through the part where the clanking of his all-metal outfit would render the cloak difficult to use at best and completely pointless at worst.
Harry found himself hesitating a moment as he went to hand the invisibility cloak to Hermione. He had never relinquished it to anyone else before. Sure, Ron and Hermione had been under it with him on some of their earlier adventures, but he had always been there, holding the cloak over them. Harry knew it was silly, but the invisibility cloak always felt like it was magic unique to him, like his ability to speak parseltongue or to conjure a stag patronus. "Harry, you know you can't come with me," Hermione asserted with a pointed glance at his armour. "We won't find out what Atlas Filch and the others are doing unless you give me the cloak. You're just going to have to trust me with it."
When she put it like that, Harry felt extremely foolish. He quickly handed over the cape to Hermione and watched as she ducked behind him and put it on. "You keep watching Violet and Terry," Hermione's voice came from nowhere in a whisper. Harry couldn't really tell when Hermione left, but he somehow sensed that she did, leaving him alone to watch with morbid fascination as whatever relationship there was between Terry Nichten-Teach and Violet Mogle crumbled before the eyes of dozens of teenagers.
Terry offered one last heated rejoinder and Harry was too far away to hear what he said, but Violet slapped him for his troubles. She then stormed off, leaving Harry conflicted. Should he follow Violet, who was walking away at a very brisk pace that Harry could hardly hope to match, or stay here where Terry was? The latter would be much more easily accomplished, but Violet was Hermione's number one suspect. How could Harry let her get away when his best friend was under his invisiblity cloak, watching the person who he suspected was behind it all?
Harry started moving in the direction that Violet seemed to be headed in, but soon found that moving through a crowded room with plates of armour strapped to your legs while trying to track a short, petite blonde wearing a genie outfit was just about as hard as it sounded. In frustration, he stopped to remove the plates of armour that weren't attached to the chain mail, not particularly caring where they ended up. As he looked up from this tedious chore, Harry realized that he had lost sight of Violet. Cursing himself silently, he barely noticed when he bumped into someone that wasn't there.
"Hermione!" he exclaimed at the same time she cried out, "Harry!" Hermione then continued sheepishly as she removed the cloak, "I'm sorry. I didn't see you there."
Harry felt a little embarrassed, too, but didn't really know why. "I didn't see you either, obviously." The look on her face (now that he could actually see it) was serious and he knew she had something important to say.
"Harry," she said forcefully, her breath short and her chest heaving. "It's Atlas Filch and that Pinnix woman, Moseby's friend. You were right, I think he's involved somehow and Harry, they're...they're going to take something from Frank Nichten-Teach's grave."