OLD MAGIC
Chapter 35: Voldemort Makes His Move
Waiting is always hard. This was very true for Harry as he waited for Thursday to arrive and end Voldemort's existence so he could finally put an end to the roadblock holding him back from his plans to change the future of wizarding Britain. But this was only Tuesday and with the plan already set nothing more was required of him but to get his nose fully into his studies so the time would hurry by.
However, with the holidays behind them, he and his classmates found it hard to focus on their classwork with the bitter cold and dullness of January weighing them down. There was one exception, though, and that was the instructor for the DADA class. Harry could feel the rising sense of anticipation from the malevolent spirit eating away at Professor Quirrell's flagging soul. That wasn't surprising. However, what was surprising was Harry feeling anything at all from Voldemort. The castle spirit's protection should have blocked it but this sick enthusiasm had somehow managed to get through. It didn't help Harry's state of mind to also see the mad light shining clearly from Quirrell's eyes every time he glanced Harry's way as his mouth droned on about vampires and other nasty creatures. It made his stomach roll queasily. How could anyone be thrilled to kill someone just so they could live?
Shaking his head mentally, he sighed and tried to pay attention to the lesson and not look at the poor man at all. At least he would be putting the real Professor Quirrell's spirit to rest. Something good was going to come out of this nightmare, he consoled himself.
When the bell rang, Harry was ever so glad to dash out ahead of the others. More than a little surprised by his hurry, his friends caught up with him as they all headed for their next class, Herbology. It was as they were heading inside, he suddenly realized that after tonight there would be no DADA teacher.
Huh! Wonder who they would get to teach it on such short notice? Then shrugged his shoulders and dismissed the concern. That was Dumbledore's job not his.
~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~
The rest of the week did move along quickly and, with little fanfare, Thursday at last arrived, the day being sunny but very cold.
After putting in another long day, Harry along with his fellow classmates rushed to the great hall for dinner, their voices echoing off the stone walls as they chattered about their day. After being seated then listening to a few words from Dumbledore about the continuing investigation concerning the kidnappings, they were digging into a hearty meal.
"Going to the library after dinner, Harry?" Hermione asked. She was delicately nibbling on a sugary desert the house elves had made. It had lots of sprinkles on top and a gooey pudding-like center, a rare treat.
Harry grimaced as he stabbed a piece of pie and brought it up to his mouth. "Yes, I suppose I must. I can't believe all the homework we got today."
"I'll say!" Ron chimed in, a sour expression on his own face. He turned to the girl and asked, "Hermione would you help me with Potions? That git positively loves to give us rolls of homework." He hated potions but that was because he was so inept at it.
Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed. "Only if you try to do what you can first. I do have a lot to do myself." Ron groaned but nodded in agreement.
Harry winced, not liking Ron's nasty comment about Snape, but then the Professor did put on a perfect performance of being totally unlikeable. Still, it bothered him to hear his friend and many others disparage the Potion's Master. However, to be fair, only he was aware it was all an act so he had to suck it up and not give away his displeasure. Snape's cover was all that kept him safe from the Death Eaters. Sighing, he finished his meal and he and his friends joined the beginning exodus toward the dorms and other areas.
~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~
The library was fairly busy just after dinner but as the evening waned it grew gradually quieter until there were but ten students, a few teachers, and, of course, the librarian, still about.
Ron's head was resting on his upraised palm while his other hand wrote laboriously on a sheet of parchment paper. Intense boredom shared space with annoyance on his face as he worked to solve a tough question from Potion's class.
Next to him with several books piled around her on the huge wooden table and one open at her elbow, Hermione was writing rapidly on a long sheet of parchment whose beginning had disappeared off the table, the scratching of her quill pen loud in the quiet.
Harry sighed, scratched his head and frowned. He'd reached a particularly knotty problem in his really boring History of Magic class. Thinking he needed a different book to find the answer, he rose from his seat and headed into the stacks of books nearby. His search took him to the far end of the library. No one was around as he studied all the titles trying to find the one he wanted.
Suddenly, from a stack over, a voice was heard arguing with another in low tones. Frowning, Harry couldn't resist listening in while trying to figure out whose voices they were.
"I tell y-y-you t-t-there are no unicorns l-l-l-left in the woods nearby," one of the voices stuttered. That was obviously Professor Quirrell, he realized.
"And I'm telling you I saw one, injured and laying only a short distance within the forest, a straight walk from the Whomping Willow," the other, more colder voice stated. It sounded almost identical to the professor's except it spoke with perfect diction.
"Well w-w-what d-do you want m-m-me to do about it?"
"Nothing! But you needed to be aware of this as there are some students fool enough to want to enter the forest and try to save it so every one of the staff needs to be on the alert."
"How would t-t-they know about it?"
The other voice snorted. "You know gossip travels faster than a spell around here. It's probably all around the castle by now."
"W-w-well that's certainly t-t-true. A-a-alright, I will be s-s-sure to keep my eyes out and n-n-notify those I s-s-see," Professor Quirrell agreed meekly.
"You do that! Goodnight."
"G-G-Goodnight."
Then the voices went silent and someone moved off away from him.
Harry stood still, not daring to move until he was certain the persons or person (as he suspected was really the case) was gone. When he thought it was safe, he continued his search for the book he needed while his mind went over the furtive conversation he'd just heard.
How odd to hear two voices coming from the same person. If anyone else had heard that they would have thought the person was barking mad. Harry shook his head. It's obvious by that lame conversation, Voldie has set his trap. Shows how much of an ego maniac he is to think I would be so stupid as to not see this as the trap it is. A cold smile touched his lips briefly. If all goes to plan, this will be the last time that monster will harm another living creature. So, time to warn the troops the plan is in motion.
He paused to find the book he needed then sent a silent call to his familiar. Returning to the table, he sat and began to work again. After all, it still had to get done and he couldn't go out until much later tonight anyway.
Deep into his studies, he nearly forgot about his sending until a hard head butted his leg under the table. Glancing down he saw the kneazle looking up at him with a question in it's green eyes. Giving it a 'wait a moment' gesture, Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out one of his notepads and a Bic pen. Furtively hiding what he was doing behind a propped up book, he scribbled a short message then gave it to Wine who carefully took it into his mouth. The kneazle eyed the boy a moment longer. Harry displayed two fingers, Wine nodded it's head then went invisible. No sound gave away the kneazle as it hurried off on its mission.
With his messenger off and away, Harry glanced quickly to see if anyone had seen him doing something odd but both Hermione and Ron were still busy with their work and had never looked up and no one else was around them. Sighing in relief, he returned to his boring assignment. He still had a foot of parchment to do for Herbology after this lesson so he needed to pick up the pace. He couldn't be late for his fateful date in the dark of the woods this night.
~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~
Harry didn't know it but someone else had heard the odd conversation between the stacks. Draco had been cursing under his breath as he hunted for a book he was told might give him the answers for Astrology class but so far he wasn't having any luck locating the bleeding thing. He had been searching on the last aisle over and was about to give up and face Mrs. Pinch, the librarian, when he heard that idiot of a DADA teacher stutter something to someone else.
He listened and frowned in confusion. Why did the two voices sound like the same person? And what was that about an injured unicorn? Confused and very curious, he itched to walk around the stack to see who was talking but didn't dare as the other voice sounded like someone he definitely didn't want to meet.
The odd conversation lasted only moments then both voices fell silent with only one set of footsteps walking off. Waiting, holding his breath, Draco couldn't hear any noise nor of anyone else walking away. Shrugging, he finally dared to walk to the end of the stack and peer down the one the voices had been ... no one was there.
Whoever that second person had been they walked like a ghost. Who knows, perhaps it had been one of them. A ghost would know about such things like an injured unicorn and would tell the staff about it but he didn't recall ever hearing that voice before. It had sort of sounded like Professor Quirrell but with a firmer and more confident voice. He shook his head. No, that was just a ridiculous notion. The only thing of any interest was what they had said. Should he speak to Harry about the unicorn? Or perhaps Hagrid? Or better yet, Severus?
Yes, perhaps that would be a good idea and wouldn't make any of my Slytherin shadows suspicious. They are getting rather annoying, sneaking around and spying on me. Draco sighed and looked rather forlorn. He was getting tired of avoiding most from his house and missed the friendship he'd made with Harry. While those unhappy thoughts chased him, he returned to his hunt for the book he needed.
I just wish they would leave me alone but that's not what they've been taught. He grimaced. I wish I'd been sorted into Ravenclaw. At least there I wouldn't be hounded because my father is in league with the dark lord. They are thinkers and don't judge as quickly or stupidly as the hard headed houses of Gryffindor and Slytherin.
If wishes were horses, I'd be riding one of them out of here but they aren't and I have to just suck it up. Ah, here is the bleeding thing finally. He pulled out a thick book that stank of mold and other unpleasant odors. He carried it off to the table he had been sitting at, passing a stack of books that teetered on the edge of a table with three people around it. A quick glance told him it was the golden three (what Harry, Weasley, and Granger were called by most of the school). He nearly paused but changed his mind and continued on. None of them had noticed him.
He needed to finish his homework then go looking for his Godfather. Something bad was going on, he could feel it. Hopefully, Severus would have some answers for him.