A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Child-of-the-Dawn, who helped me through some tough spots, and to my new muse… Björn the Koosh ball! ^_^
Say it. I'm weird.
Good. Now read.
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Chapter Fourteen: In which the plot thickens
- March 17, 1945 -
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Minerva woke up the next morning at a table in the library with her head on a copy of a book entitled A History of Goblins. Confused, she tried to figure out why she was there. She hadn't fallen asleep in the library since third year – she came close sometimes, but someone always came along to check on her. She wondered why that didn't happen this time.
She looked down at the book and tried to figure out why she was reading something about the history of goblins. History of magic, maybe? She sighed and began rubbing her forehead… she remembered something talking with Dumbledore about thinking Tom Riddle was up to no good, but giving up on it later in the night and telling Arabella that she was going to go to the library and study goblins for History of Magic… but the details were fuzzy.
She glanced at her watch and almost gasped. Eight forty! Classes began at nine, and she was completely unprepared. She slammed the book shut and raced for the Gryffindor tower, hoping she'd be able to make it on time.
"About time you got here," Arabella hissed as a breathless Minerva sat down next to her in Charms just before the bell rang. "Where have you been?"
"The library, I guess," Minerva said.
"You guess?" Arabella said skeptically.
"Didn't I tell you that I was going to the library?" Minerva asked.
Arabella nodded. "Yes, you did. And I went there at about midnight and you weren't there."
Now Minerva was more confused than ever. "But… but I was there… I remember… at least, I think I remember…"
"Ms. McGonagall and Ms. Figg, quiet down, please," said Professor Rose. He then called the class's attention to what he'd written on the chalkboard.
Minerva stopped talking, but she couldn't concentrate on what Rose was teaching them. She remembered being in the library, but she knew Arabella wouldn't lie to her. Something about this didn't make any sense, and she couldn't figure out what. What was wrong with her?
Minerva wasn't the only one wondering what was wrong with her. All during the hour she had the seventh-year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, Indira Nay couldn't take her eyes off the Head Girl. She knew something was wrong with Minerva, she just couldn't figure out what. During class, Minerva had an expression on her face that strongly reminded Indira of someone knowing that two plus two was four but just couldn't understand why. After the class was over, Indira spent most of half an hour sitting at her desk, trying to guess what could have possibly made Minerva act the way she did. And finally, it came to her.
She set off toward the Transfiguration department to find Dumbledore. As the head of Minerva's house, he would be the ideal one to tell first. However, upon arriving at Dumbledore's office, she saw that he wasn't there. Puzzled, she wondered where he could be. She decided to check the staff room next and go from there.
The only person in the staff room was Alain Haas, Arithmancy instructor and head of Hufflepuff, and he was just on his way out. "Afternoon, Indira," Haas said. "Is something wrong? You look anxious." He elected to refrain from adding, "More anxious than usual."
"I need to find Dumbledore," Indira returned. "Have you seen him?"
Haas nodded. "Yes; I saw him on my way over here a few minutes ago, actually. He was heading toward the headmaster's office."
Indira felt her heartbeat accelerating against her will and almost frowned. "All right. Thank you, Professor Haas."
It didn't take her long to arrive at the statue of the gargoyle in front of the staircase leading up to Dippet's office. "Kangchenjunga," she said as soon as the statue came into view. It slid aside well before she reached it, and was able to start up the stairs without breaking stride. A few seconds later, the statue moved back into place.
Around the corner, standing just out Indira's sight as she'd approached the statue, Paul Garrett smiled to himself and silently repeated the password over and over in his head. Kangchenjunga. Kangchenjunga. Kangchenjunga.
"And you have no idea what could be wrong with her?" Armando Dippet asked, gazing intently at the man sitting in one of the two the leather chairs in front of his desk.
Albus Dumbledore shook his head. "None, but I do know something's wrong. All during my class, she just looked… lost." He didn't feel the need to mention their conversation the previous night concerning her decision to follow Tom Riddle yet. After all, Minerva said nothing had come of it when he asked her about it after Transfiguration that day. She seemed to be sure of at least that much.
Dippet nodded in understanding. "All right. What do you think we should do?"
Dumbledore never got the chance to reply. A knock on the door interrupted their conversation. "Come in," Dippet called.
The door opened, and Indira came inside. "Headmaster, I have to find Dumbledore," she said, walking toward him at a rapid pace. "Have you seen him?"
Dumbledore stuck his head out from behind the chair and said, "Dumbledore? Never heard of him."
"Dumbledore!" Indira exclaimed. "Good. Listen. Something's wrong with Minerva McGonagall, and-"
"Forgive my interruption, Indira, but we know," Dumbledore said.
Indira narrowed her eyes and finished her statement. "And I think I know what it is."
"Well then, by all means, enlighten us," Dippet said, gesturing toward the other chair.
Indira sat down, took a deep breath, and began to explain. "We all know the sort of behavior she's exhibited today is abnormal for any student," she said. "For a while, I thought it was short-term memory loss, but something like that has never occurred in her before to the best of my knowledge. After thinking about it, I strongly believe that she's been affected by some sort of curse."
"A curse?" Dumbledore exclaimed, gripping the armrests of the chair so tightly his knuckles turned white.
Dippet's brow wrinkled with concern. "Are you certain?" he asked.
"I can't be certain, but she is exhibiting some signs that suggest someone modified her memory and didn't do a very good job," said Indira. "She would not act like that naturally, and if whoever concocted this 'new memory' of hers knew what they were doing, no one would know the difference."
Dumbledore rose to his feet and said, "I'm going to find her."
Dippet nodded. "Yes, please do. Take her to Madam Tyburski for a diagnosis, please. If her memory has been altered, there's a chance we could still repair it."
Dumbledore excused himself and left the room.
Once Dumbledore was gone, Dippet looked at Indira and said, "You know a lot about memory charms, don't you?"
She nodded. "After the Nays found me, they tried to modify my memory so I wouldn't be haunted by what Grindelwald had done to me. My mind would always break through them."
"When was the last time you tried?" he asked, standing up and walking over to her. "Perhaps it would work better now. It's been twenty years."
"Yes, it's been twenty years, and I can still smell the stink in his breath," she snapped.
Stupid, Dippet thought to himself. Why do you always act like an idiot around her? Another thing he wanted to know was why he cared. Indira was cold. Indira was heartless. Indira didn't want anyone to care about her. And she'd certainly never given him a reason to.
Maybe he cared because he knew why.
Indira sighed and stood up. "Well, I need to get back to finish grading papers. Can you let me know what the diagnosis on McGonagall is?"
"Yes. Will you be in your office?"
"Where else would I be?"
She had a point with that one.
"Good-bye, Armando," she said. "I expect I shall see you soon."
"You called me Armando," he noticed.
"That's your name, isn't it?"
"Well, yes, but that's the second time ever."
She looked mildly surprised. "And you remember this because…"
He didn't answer. Instead, he reached out with his hand and stroked the side of her face, so lightly he was barely touching her. She didn't move – in fact, she didn't even blink. He started to pull his hand away, but then she reached up and covered it with hers. She kissed his palm, then turned and started to walk away. Just before reaching the door, she stopped, glanced at him over her shoulder, and did something he'd never seen from her before appeared on her face: a genuine smile.
They saw each other again about an hour later, when he came by her classroom to give her an update on Minerva like he'd promised. "You're right," he said, crossing the room over to her desk. "It is a memory charm, but we can't recover any information. Her memory doesn't make sense, but we can't find out what really happened without doing serious damage to her mind."
"Shit," Indira said, standing up. "What about Legillimency? Can't that be used? Dumbledore's a Legillimens, isn't he?"
Dippet shook his head. "He tried. Whoever cast the memory charm must have also been a Legillimens."
"Then it couldn't have been a student," she reasoned, and leaned against her desk. "This doesn't make any sense."
"You're right, it doesn't," he said. "No student is powerful enough to be a Legillimens, but a Legillimens would certainly be good enough with memory charms to prevent something like what we've witnessed from happening."
She sighed and pressed her hand to her forehead. "If only we could break the charm… We could ask her to try to break through it herself; that would leave her mind undamaged, but it could take months…" She dropped her hand and looked at him. "What do we do?"
He shook his head. "The only thing we can do is wait for her to break through it."
"Or wait for someone to make their move," she said quietly.
"Well, either way, we'll find out sooner or later."
She nodded, but did not reply verbally. They made eye contact and looked at each other for almost a full minute, and then a confused look crossed Dippet's face. "Your eyes…"
"What about them?" she asked.
"They're… green," he said. "I always thought they were brown. I never got a good look at them before."
"Oh. Yes, they're green."
"It's an interesting color," he said, moving closer to get a better look. "You're Indian, aren't you?"
"Half," she said. "Indian mother, Italian father."
"Ah. That was my next guess."
A grin played across her lips. "Right."
"All right, so my next guess was really Arabian, but I would have gotten to Italian/Indian eventually. How close are you to being done with grading?"
"Close. I'd say fifteen more minutes, tops. Why?"
"Well… I know getting close to anyone is hard for you." He took her hand, brought it to his lips, kissed it, then let go. "But I'd like to try."
She tried to fight back a grin unsuccessfully. "All right. I'll see you in a few minutes."
"Kanchejunga."
Nothing happened.
Tom Riddle stared at the statue of the gargoyle for a few moments, then turned his gaze to Paul Garrett. "What did you say the password was?"
"Katchajoonga," Paul said innocently.
The gargoyle was motionless.
Tom rolled his eyes. "Apparently not."
"Well, it began with a K and there was an anchejunka in there somewhere."
"It began with a… Paul, you moron!"
Paul folded his arms across his chest and said, "Look, that's what I heard. It's not my fault Dipshit comes up with passwords like that."
Tom let out an exasperated sigh and focused his attention on the gargoyle again. "Kachejunga. Kangchejooga. Kangarooja."
Nothing.
Tom glared at Paul. "Nice."
Just then, they heard footsteps.
"Someone's coming," Tom said, and they backed away from the gargoyle.
It was Dippet. "Mr. Riddle, Mr. Garrett," he said. "May I help you?"
"Yes, sir," said Tom. "We need to talk to you."
"In private," Paul added.
"It's about Minerva," said Tom. "We… we know who cursed her."
Dippet almost jumped. "Very well," he said. "Come with me." He looked at the gargoyle. "Kangchenjunga."
"See?" Paul whispered as they followed Dippet up the stairs. "How was I supposed to remember that?"
As soon as they reached the top of the stairs, Dippet said, "Who cursed her?"
In the blink of an eye, Tom's wand was out and pointed at the headmaster's face. "IMPERIO!"
Instantly, Dippet felt perfectly content. He knew the Imperius Curse was illegal, but he couldn't see why. He'd never been happier.
"Now, then," Tom said, keeping his wand pointed at Dippet, "we need to talk. Indira Nay isn't Indira Nay's real name, is it?"
"No," Dippet answered dreamily.
"What is it?"
Don't tell him, a tiny voice inside him whispered.
He hesitated.
"Tell me!" Tom said.
"… Madeline Rahmini."
"He's resisting," said Paul.
"I know," Tom snapped. "Shut up."
They did this. They're the ones that cursed Minerva.
"Riddle, Garrett, you're under arrest," Dippet said, snapping out of his trance and reaching for his wand.
"IMPERIO!!" Tom shouted.
The headmaster became submissive once more.
"You are Madeline Rahmini's Secret-keeper," Tom said. "Only you can transfer that to someone else. Make Paul the new Secret-keeper."
No.
"Yes," Tom said when he saw that Dippet was resisting again.
No.
"Yes."
No.
"Yes."
Yes.
"That's better," said Tom. "Now do it."
Dippet took his wand out and pointed it at Paul. "Arcanus Commuto." [A/N: Latin, "secret change"]
Golden light emerged from his chest, condensed into a ball, and then drifted over to Paul. The glowing orb rested on Paul's chest for a moment, then vanished.
"Thank you," said Tom. "Obliviate."
"Why'd you do that?" Paul whispered.
"Just in case," Tom whispered back. He cast the Imperius Curse on Dippet again, just to be sure, then said, "Thank you for your cooperation. Now go jump off the Astronomy tower."