Author's Note: The Rotten Writer, returning once again with another chapter of Soul Scars.
Gettting down to the wire here, gang. Next chapter will be our trip down into the Chamber and this chapter pushes us further toward that goal. I've also included some fun fuzzy moments that I think everyone will enjoy and even a surprise or two that some have already called but I think might surprise a FEW readers.
I'm looking forwared to hearing what you guys all think about it. Not gonna drag things out and leave you guys hanging, so let's just jump right in everybody.
Disclaimer: I am still a poor boy that cannot hope to ever own the Harry Potter rights or frachise. I'm making nothing from doing this but a bit of fun and that's all I'm looking for.
Now, moving on to chapter 25 of Soul Scars!
Soul Scars Part Two
The Darkness Within
by,
Rtnwriter
"What is it?"
"It's a diary."
"I can see that."
"Well, if you knew, why'd you ask?"
"It's got to be more than just a diary, right?"
"What makes you think that, Susan?"
"Someone tried pretty hard to get rid of it, didn't they?"
"I'm not sure attempting to flush it down a toilet is really trying very hard, but I can understand your point."
"Myrtle said that someone threw it into her loo and she was upset about it so she caused the flood that I stepped into out in the hall."
"You did clean your shoes, right, Harry?"
"Yes, Daphne, I made sure to hit them with every cleaning charm I could think of."
"Getting off topic…"
"Sorry, Hermione."
Harry leaned back in his seat, a puzzled frown on his face as he stared at the simple looking black, leather bound diary where it say on a low coffee table between them. The five friends were in their usual seats in the Griffindor common room, discussing the strange story Harry had just shared with them about his encounter with Moaning Myrtle after dinner the night before.
"Does anyone else think it's odd that, that loo was chosen to try to throw this thing away?" he asked, interrupting Hermione's attempt at using a revealing charm, on the book.
"How so?" Daphne asked, her eyes regarding him steadily.
"Well, that was where Missus Norris was attacked."
"True," Susan admitted. "But that could just be a coincidence. No one ever really goes to that loo because of Myrtle."
"It would be a fairly convenient place, then, to try to dispose of something you don't want others to find.," Neville offered.
Harry frowned again. "I don't know, my gut is telling me there's something fishy going on here."
Neville gave Harry an incredulous look. "Your gut talks to you?" he asked, and Harry and Hermione couldn't help chuckling at the expression on their friend's face.
"It's just a figure of speech, Neville," Hermione explained. "He means that he has an intuition or instinct, as opposed to an opinion based on logical analysis."
"Oh… why didn't he just say that? Or that he had a feeling?"
"Couldn't begin to tell you," Hermione said, grinning at Neville.
"I am still sitting right here, you know," Harry whined.
Hermione and Neville both smirked at him and spoke in perfect unison, "we know."
"Children, we're getting even further off track here."
"Sorry, Daphne," all three chorused at her and she rolled her eyes at their antics.
"Basic point here, is something about this feels… weird to me," Harry said. "But at the same time there doesn't appear to be a lot that we can honestly do about it." He picked up the book and carefully examined it. "I mean, this is a plain, blank diary that used to belong to a T.M. Riddle."
"Riddle?"
The five friends looked up to find Ron standing just off to the side, a large platter of pastries in his hands.
"Sorry," he muttered. "I didn't mean to hear anything, I was just coming to see if you wanted a pastry," he added, holding up the platter as a way of explanation.
"No, thanks, Ron. What was that you said?" Harry asked. Despite giving the youngest Weasley male a chance, Ron hadn't spent an exceptional amount of time with the rest of them, usually only hanging out during some of their study sessions, and even then it was only just before the assignments were due. Also, after the dueling club incident he'd been far more wary of Harry.
"That name you mentioned, Riddle. There's an award in the Trophy room for Special Service to the school that was given to a Tom Marvalo Riddle."
The five friends shared a dumbfounded look.
"How do you know that, Ronald?" Hermione asked, hesitantly.
Ron's face twisted in disgust. "Well, remember the detentions we got, because of the slug incident?" he asked Harry, who simply nodded. "I was polishing the trophies at my detention when I belched out a few slugs and they got slime all over that award. Must have polished that thing thirty times before it was clean. Don't think I'll ever forget that name, now."
"Do you know what this Riddle did to earn the award?"
Ron shrugged at Daphne's question. "No idea, it didn't say, but it was given to him about fifty years ago."
"My gran told me over the break that the Chamber was opened before, fifty years ago," Neville told them in a thoughtful tone of voice.
"All right, that's too many coincidences for me," Harry muttered. "Amelia said that enough coincidences indicates a pattern. Dumbledore admitted the Chamber was opened once before, the night Colin was attacked."
"Neville's Gran confirms it happened fifty years ago," Susan offered.
"Now we've got a blank diary that belonged to a student that, fifty years ago, was given an award for special services to the school," Hermione added.
"Think maybe he caught whoever was opening it before?"
Harry shrugged. "Maybe, Nev," he said. "Either way I think we need to find out more about this Riddle guy. Do they have back issues of the Prophet in the library?"
"Well, yes, but not back that far. That's too long ago for them to have kept them," Daphne said. "We could try writing to the Prophet directly, see if maybe they'd still have those issues."
"Worth a shot, I guess," Neville muttered. "I'll send them a letter in the morning, but right now, I'm heading to bed."
The rest of them stood and Harry slipped the diary he'd found into his pocket as they all agreed it was time for bed, leaving Ron standing there, still holding his tray of pastries and looking more than a little confused by his house mates behavior.
#####
For the next few weeks, as January bled toward February, the diary was all but forgotten. Homework piled higher and higher as well as ramping tension around the school. Harry had the distinct impression that not everyone believed him to be innocent, but at the least they'd stopped acting as if they expected him to suddenly start cursing students in the halls between classes.
Quidditch practice ramped up even more, which also cut into the available time they had to look into the diary. It wasn't until the first week of February when Harry had a breakthrough that was completely accidental.
Neville and the girls along with Blaise, Tracey, and Hannah, were studying in the Room of Requirement when the door suddenly burst open, startling most of them as Harry hurried into the room and threw himself into a chair in the House neutral common room they'd taken to using when they were all together.
"I figured out why the diary is blank," he said, a broad grin on his face as he looked at the others.
"Um… because no one ever wrote in it?" Blaise offered as if Harry had lost his mind.
"Nope!" Harry said, popping the 'p' at the end, loudly.
They watched him expectantly for a few moments but he simply grinned at them and said nothing while he bounced slightly in his seat.
Finally, Daphne sighed in exasperation. "Harry?" she asked. "Why is the diary blank?"
"So glad you asked, Daph," he chirped, ignoring how Daphne scowled at the hated nickname and the rest of them rolled their eyes at him. "It's blank because it absorbs the ink."
They blinked at that, confused by the strange answer.
"Wait… what?" Neville asked.
"Yeah, that's kind of how I felt," Harry admitted with a laugh. "I was in the library earlier-"
"Why?" Hermione interrupted. "We have access to all the books we could need here."
"Erm…" Harry froze, looking guilty for a moment before quickly waving her question away. "Just a little project I'm working on," he said. "Anyway, I was digging around in my bag when I knocked over my ink bottle…"
#####
"Son of a…" Harry cursed under his breath as ink spread throughout his bag. It took him nearly ten minutes to wipe up as much of the ink as he could and separate out what was salvageable and what wasn't.
When he pulled the diary from where he'd been carrying it at the very bottom of his bag, he paused. The cover was drenched in royal blue ink, but the pages inside were as pristinely blank as ever, no sign of ink at all. He quickly vanished the ink with his wand and set the diary on the table he'd taken near the back of the library.
Curiously, he pulled out a new bottle of ink and a quill and, dipping his quill into the bottle of emerald green ink, he slashed a single line across the first page then watched for a few moments as the ink gleamed wetly in the sunlight coming in from the windows set high above.
He sucked in a breath through his teeth as the line of ink vanished, as if it was being sucked into the page. Excitedly, he dipped his quill again and carefully wrote, "Hello?" then waited as the ink was absorbed once again.
He practically bounced in his seat when new words, written in a sure, elegant hand, appeared on the page briefly before vanishing again.
Hello. Who is this?
Harry wrote quickly, but as carefully as he could. "My name is Harry Potter."
Hello, Harry Potter. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary?
As the words faded Harry thought for a moment before he shrugged and decided to write the truth. "Someone tried to flush it down a toilet."
Well, it is a good thing, then, that I chose to record my memories through a method far more lasting then ink. I always knew there would be some that would not want my diary to be read.
"What do you mean? Why wouldn't someone want people to read your diary, Tom?"
I preserved my memories in this diary. Memories of terrible things that happened at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
"That's where I am!" Harry wrote, nearly overturning his ink bottle in his haste. "It's happening again. There have already been three attacks and people are scared. Do you know about the Chamber of Secrets?"
Of course I know. We were told it was a legend, that it wasn't real. That was a lie. In my fifth year the Chamber was opened and several students were attacked. Finally, one was killed. They were talking about closing the school when I managed to capture the one responsible and he was expelled.
They gave me a nice, shiny award with my name on it and a pat on the head and forbade me from telling anyone what happened. The Headmaster, Professor Dippet, was so ashamed that it happened on his watch that he was determined to core it up. Everyone was told that the death was due to a freak accident and everyone just forgot about it.
But I knew better. I knew it could happen again, especially since the one with the power to open the Chamber was never imprisoned. So, I created this diary, hopefully, so I could held when, and if, the Chamber were ever to be re-opened.
"No one knows who is doing it, this time," Harry scribbled eagerly. "You said you caught them, last time, who was it?"
I could show you, if you want.
Harry paused at that and looked up thoughtfully.
"Holy crap!" he blurted out, jumping in surprise when he found a pair of large, silverly blue eyes staring at him.
"Hello, Harry Potter," Luna said in less then her usual breezy tone. Her voice sounded dull, almost lifeless. "I am sorry if I startled you."
"That's okay, Luna," he told her, quickly calming from his momentary fright. "I just didn't hear you come up." He blinked and looked more closely at her. She didn't appear to have her book bag, but her class books, parchment and some ink bottles were held precariously in her arms. Her tie was missing, behind one ear she'd tucked her wand and behind the other was a bent and battered looking quill. Leaning over the table, he looked down, and he could just see her bare toes sticking out from under the edge of her robes.
"Um… Luna? Is everything okay?" he asked, awkwardly.
"Yes, Harry Potter, everything is fine, thank you for asking."
He looked back up to her face, sharply, when he noticed a sudden change in her voice. She didn't speak in her usual, airy, distracted way, nor did she use the dull lifeless tone of a few minutes prior. Her eyes, now fixed with a strange intensity on the diary where it sat on the table looked just as her voice had sounded. Sharp. Focused.
Nervously, Harry casually pulled his Charms textbook over so that it covered the diary.
"Well, that's good," he said, not believing her for a moment but too worried about the diary to risk asking her about it.
A few moments later she suddenly seemed to shake herself and turned to walk away without saying anything else. Harry stared after her, concern etched on his face, but he pushed his worry aside for the moment, resolving to talk to her later.
He looked around, and, once he was certain he was alone, he uncovered the diary again and looked at it just as some new words swam into view on the page.
Harry? Are you still there?
"Yes, I'm still here. Sorry, a friend was here and I had to wait for them to leave."
Understandable. As I was saying, I could show you when I caught him, no need to just take my word for it.
Harry hesitated for a moment before he carefully wrote a single word, "Okay."
#####
"And that was when things got weird," Harry said to the rest of the room. Every one of his friends were staring at him in a mixture of shock and curiosity.
"That's when it got weird?" Blaise burst out. "What do you call everything else that happened?"
Harry shrugged. "Tuesday?" he offered nonchalantly and flashed Blaise a cheeky grin.
"Harry," Daphne admonished, "quit teasing Blaise and continue your story."
"Right, sorry, where was I?"
"Weird," Susan offered.
"Oh, right. So, I felt like I was falling for a minute, and I suddenly found myself standing in the Headmaster's office. It looked a little different but it was still the same place. There was this old man I eventually found out was Armando Dippet."
"He was the previous Headmaster, before Dumbledore took the position," Hermione offered as she saw a few blank looks from around the room.
"Right, anyway, there's a knock at the door, and this boy came in. Sixteen, handsome, I guess," Harry shrugged. "Kinda reminded me a bit of Diggory, just not as friendly. Anyway, he and the Headmaster talk for a bit and he's asking if he could stay at the school over the summer but the Headmaster won't let him because of the attacks."
"Why did he want to stay at the school?"
"He was an orphan. Muggle father that apparently abandoned him and his mum before he was even born and his mum died giving birth to him. He really didn't like the orphanage that he lived at."
There were mutters and nods around the room at that.
"So, Riddle is sent away and he goes wandering the halls and eventually runs into a younger Dumbledore of all people. Lemme tell you, it was weird seeing Dumbledore with auburn colored hair and beard. After a minute or so Dumbledore told Riddle that he should wander the halls alone and they went their separate ways.
"Riddle went down to the dungeon that is our Potions classroom today and hid inside with the door cracked so he could watch the hall. After probably an hour waiting we finally hear someone coming down the hall and Riddle slips out to follow them. About five minutes of that and we find third year Hagrid trying to sneak some creature into a box!"
"Hagrid?" Neville burst out. "There's no way that Hagrid is the Hair of Slytherin," he insisted and they all nodded along.
"Right, Hagrid wouldn't hurt a fly, much less actually kill another student," Hermione said.
"Well…" Daphne trailed off hesitantly. "I know he'd never hirt anyone on purpose, but he does love dangerous creatures. Is it possible whatever creature he had might have been attacking students without him knowing?"
Harry vehemently shook his head. "No way. I looked it up." He reached into his bag and pulled out a thick, heavy book that he opened to a marked page and handed it off to Hermione. "I didn't get a great look, it was dark, but what Hagrid had, had a hairy, low slung body, several legs and eyes and pincers. The only thing I could find that fit that description was-"
"Acromantula?" Hermione asked as she read the entry.
"Right, a giant spider. Spiders don't petrify their victims, and if this one did, there would still be puncture wounds and likely they'd find spider silk around, but there's been nothing."
"So, do you think Riddle was wrong? I mean, Hagrid did have a monster, but it just wasn't him that was attacking the students?" Hermione asked, passing the book along so the others could read the entry on Acromantula.
"I think Riddle framed Hagrid. I think he was so desperate not to go back to that orphanage that he was willing to blame an innocent in order to avoid it."
"But, that doesn't make sense," Hannah interjected. "So he blames Hagrid, but if the attacks hadn't stopped, then he'd have been proven wrong."
"Unless he knew that the attacks would stop," Daphne pointed out, thoughtfully. "You said he went straight to that dungeon and waited, right, Harry?"
He nodded, pleased that someone else had the same thought he did.
"Then he followed Hagrid and waited to catch him with his giant spider."
"And, he either got very lucky, and whoever was responsible for the attacks just decided to stop after they blamed Hagrid, or Riddle was the one attacking the students in the first place," Hermione cut in as she caught up to Harry's and Daphne's suspicious way of thinking.
"Right," Harry said. "Really, both option are possible, but right now I'm inclined to think that Riddle was the Heir and he framed Hagrid."
"But that doesn't explain why it's happening now," Blaise pointed out. "Riddle isn't here."
Harry shrugged. "I'll admit, I haven't figured that part out yet."
"We should take this to a professor," Hermione muttered. "Isn't this exactly the kind of thing that Amelia told us not to do?"
"Yeah, but what are we supposed to tell them? We have an idea with no proof or evidence to support our conclusion," Susan pointed out.
"What about McGonagall?" Blaise asked. "She is you Head of House and-"
"No."
Every eye turned to Harry as he cut Blaise off. The single word wasn't overtly angry but there was an undercurrent of steel in his voice that was unmistakable.
"I don't want to deal with her right now," he continued after a minute passed where everyone just stared at him.
"We could take it to her, Harry," Susan offered.
He considered that, staring at the wall opposite him for a moment before shaking his head. "No, not yet. I want to see if I can get any more information our of Riddle first. Let's give it a week before we turn it over."
"Are you sure that's a good-"
"Hermione, I know we've been working on my learning that I can trust the adults around me to actually help, now, instead of what I've dealt with before. But even more than I hated how little help I got, I hate more being treated like a child. Hell, I don't think I've ever really been a child. Can you honestly tell me that once we hand it over they'll tell us anything? Or will they just pat us on the head and send us off to play?"
She frowned and sat back in her seat. "No," she admitted, reluctantly.
"No, they'll treat us like mushrooms, keeping us in the dark and feeding us bullshit. After all the insults and dirty looks I've dealt with this year… I just… I need to understand why."
"Okay, Harry," Daphne muttered. "But only a week, understand?"
He nodded, giving her a warm smile. He could feel that they understood. They didn't like it, but they understood.
"So, what was this project you were working on in the library?" Hermione asked, an eager glint in her eye. "Maybe I can help."
#####
"She's relentless, Neville, I swear she's like that Terminator bloke in that movie Dan was telling us about last summer."
"Why don't you just tell them?"
"Then it wouldn't be a surprise." Harry sat hunched in a seat in the Library, nervously looking around them for any signs of bushy brown hair while Neville just smirked at his friend.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Harry accused.
"Little bit, yes," Neville admitted. "You'll face giant three head dogs and Voldemort himself, but a thirteen-year-old girl has had you hiding in the Library for the last week."
"It's Valentines Day, Nev," Harry burst out. "I don't know where we're going or where we'll end up, but I had to do something for them. Hermione is not making it easy, though. She keeps bugging me about that project I mentioned."
"Well, why'd you mention it?"
"I panicked!"
Harry groaned and dropped his head into his hands as Neville went from smirking to outright laughing and Harry lifted his head to scowl at him.
"Come on, Chuckles," he grumbled. "They're about to serve lunch and Hermione will finally be able to stop hounding me."
He led a still laughing Neville to the Great Hall to find his girls already waiting for them and slid into a seat between Hermione on his right and Daphne on his left. Susan had decided to sit on Hermione's other side.
"What's wrong with him?" Daphne asked as a still snickering Neville sat across from Harry between Tracey and Hannah.
Harrys eyes narrowed at his friend. "He's just having a laugh at my expense," he groused.
They settled in to eat, Harry ignoring the frequent looks from the witch on his right as he occasionally glanced up at the ceiling. Finally, a flash of white caught his attention.
"Thank Merlin," he muttered, smiling as Hedwig landed on the table in front of him with a package wrapped in brown paper tied to her leg. He could feel intense curiosity from the girls, as well as more than a few curious looks from the other students in the hall, but he ignored it all in favor of removing the package and fawning some attention on his first girl. Hedwig preened under the attention and eventually left the table to perch on his shoulder as he carefully opened the package.
"Hannah?" he asked, getting the Hufflepuff's attention. "Happy Valentines Day." He held out a small box of Honeydukes chocolates, along with a single yellow rose. "I was told that a yellow rose is said to represent friendship and I wanted you to know how much your friendship means to me," he added as she took the items from his hand, looking quite shocked by the gesture.
"It's beautiful, Harry. Thank you," Hannah murmured quietly and offered him a shy smile.
He smiled back before removing more chocolates that he handed to each of his girls along with nine roses, three for each of them. Each had a vibrant red and white rose braided together with a third rose, but for each the third was of a different color.
"I thought a lot about these," he said, nervously. "I considered a lot of the conversations we've had since we all met and what I've learned about each of you." That had the girls looking slightly nervous but he pressed on. "The red and white roses, when given together, are said to represent unity, that seemed appropriate, for us. Daphne, your pink rose mean appreciation and grace. I appreciate everything you've done for me and I've always admired your grace under pressure." Daphne flushed brightly but said nothing. She only smiled and let her feelings across their bond communicated what word's couldn't.
"Susan," he said, turning to look across Hermione at the red head. "The cream rose represents charm and thoughtfulness. You're always thinning of others and you make me want to try harder at whatever I do, just to make you happy."
Tears glimmered in Susan's eyes and she reached around the girl between them to squeeze his hand.
"Hermione," he said, finally turning his attention to the very first of them that he'd met, even if it was by only a few minutes. He leaned close and lowered his voice so only she could hear. "We've talked a lot in the last year and a half, and you've mentioned how you were treated by other kids growing up. I haven't mentioned until now because I didn't want to embarrass you, but I've seen a few of your nightmares too. You've had a lot of people talking about your looks over the years, qqand how you're too focused on your studies, but looks aren't the only thing that makes a person beautiful.
"The burgundy rose means unconscious beauty, and that's what you are. You don't need perfect hair and makeup or any of that. You are beautiful without effort, and I really hope that, one day, you'll learn to trust and believe that."
He pulled away, giving her a warm smile and before he knew it he found her arms wrapped tightly around him, her face buried in his shoulder as she tried to squeeze the life out of him. He returned the hug as best he could, gently rubbing her back and whispering quietly to her until she pulled back and smiled broadly at him, even as she wiped tears from her eyes.
The girls tucked away the chocolates in their robes and carefully placed their roses on the table as they finished eating. All four of them were blushing brightly as they ate, the girls occasionally touching their flowers, as if unable to believe they were real. In their distracted state, none of them noticed the envious looks from a large number of the other female students or the sullen glares from the many males that Harry had just made to look bad with his simple, but thoughtful, gifts.
Neville noticed, and nudged Tracey and Hannah, indicating the staring students with a jerk of his head. Both girls glanced around, noted the looks, and gave Neville a silent nod of understanding. They would be doing their level best to protect their friends.
"Why didn't you get a rose?" Hannah asked Tracey in a whisper as they left the Great Hall a few minutes later and the brunette Slytherin grinned impishly at her.
"Harry's a smart boy," she said. "He gave me mine this morning where no one could see. He didn't want to draw attention from the rest of my house."
Hannah laughed. "Damn, I didn't even think of that. He's very thoughtful at times, isn't he?"
"Yeah, but you know as well as I do who will have his full attention eventually. None of those little girls in there ever had a chance."
#####
February faded into March and there was no further word or activity from the Heir of Slytherin. On Valentines day, there had been one other event that happened, which put Harry in a foul mood for days afterward. One of the dwarves dressed as cupids that had been hired by Lockhart accosted Harry in the hall between classes.
He'd tried to escape, oh, how he'd tried, but the acerbic little creature was surprisingly strong. Harry's book bag was torn open in the ensuing struggle, spilling its contents across the floor before Harry found himself on his stomach on the ground, the dwarf sitting on his back as it recited a ridiculous and embarrassing poem.
It wasn't until that evening when the girls volunteered to take the diary to Professor McGonagall that he discovered the truth. When his bag spilled in the hall, someone had seized the opportunity.
The diary had been stolen.
The girls still went and told their Head of House everything they could about the missing airy, but so far, nothing had come of it.
By the time their Easter holiday came upon them, there was something new to occupy their attention. They had to choose their elective classes that they would begin taking in their third year.
Ron tried to talk Harry and Neville into taking the easiest courses, but both scoffed at the idea of Divination.
"It's pointless as a class," Neville explained. "You either have the Gift, or you don't. I don't understand why it's even offered."
"Maybe they're hoping some people will discover a talent for it if they're exposed to it?" Harry offered as an explanation. Neville shrugged and signed up for Runes and Care of magical Creatures. Harry did the same, but also included Arithmancy to his course load for the next year after reading an explanation of the course goals and possible uses.
Daphne and Susan, after much consideration, signed up for the same classes as Harry while Hermione put her name down for all of them, something that Harry wasn't really sure was a good idea, but he wasn't going to try to tell Hermione what she should or shouldn't do.
The next Quidditch match was going to be against Hufflepuff and Wood was as fanatical as ever, pushing the team harder and harder during practice, which left Harry so exhausted that on those days he was usually barely able to do his evening Occlumency practice before falling asleep each night.
When the day of the match finally came, a week after Daphne's birthday, which had been celebrated quietly in the Room with just their closest friends, Harry was more than ready to be done with it. The rest of the team agreed and felt that, if the game had been scheduled any later, the twins might have ended up locking Wood in a broom closet, just to get some peace and quiet.
They woke the day of the match to brilliant sunshine and a light, refreshing breeze. Harry took the match as an excuse to skip the usual morning training and actually have a bit of a lie in for a change which had him feeling more rested than he could remember feeling for some time.
"Perfect Quidditch conditions," Wood gushed over breakfast, which had Harry rolling his eyes as he tuned out the rest of his Captains ramblings as he dutifully ate his breakfast. His eyes traveled around the Hall as he ate and wondered which of the students now possessed Riddle's diary. It irked him that he'd lost the diary to begin with, and thus, any further opportunity to investigate it.
Amelia had been less than pleased when he'd finally told her about it, he remembered with a wince. The letter she'd sent had been stern and filled with disappointment and after everything she had already done for him, he really hated to disappoint her. Thankfully, the girls had been too polite to tell him they'd told him so.
As he left the Great Hall that morning with neville and the girls to go and collect his Quidditch things an ongoing concern reared it's head and Harry paused, one foot on the bottom step of the marble staircase, his head title to the side as he listened.
Kill this time… let me rip… let me tear…
"The voice," he hissed, looking over his shoulder. "I just heard it again."
Nevilled looked worried, but the girls were all nodding, their eyes wide. Hermione suddenly clapped a hand to her forehead.
"Merlin's beard," she blurted out. "I must be going daft. Harry, I think I just figured something out! Oh, the Room is too far, I've got to get to the Library!"
She started to sprint up the stairs but Harry reached out and snagged her arm before she could get away.
"Are you nuts?" he snapped. "It's dangerous, we'll all go."
"No, you've got your game."
"This is more important than Quidditch, Hermione!"
"Harry, I'll go with her," Neville offered. "I agree, the game isn't important, but you know the rest of the House would disagree. We just got them to rethink you being the Heir, you don't need to piss them off by missing the match."
"But-"
"It's just the Library. I'll help watch her back and we'll meet you at the pitch."
Reluctantly, Harry let go of Hermione's arm and she and Neville hurried off, leaving Harry staring after them with Daphne and Susan, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Eventually, Harry shook himself back into motion and they rushed off to the tower where he changed into his uniform and collected his broom. Within twenty minutes after Harry first heard that awful voice again the three of them were making their way down the Grand Staircase and into the entrance hall. A sensation of fear tinged with elation suddenly bloomed in his chest and Harry grinned, glancing at the girls on either side of him.
"Seems like Hermione found what she was looking for," he said.
"She'll tell us all about it after the game," Susan offered. "Focus on that for now, Harry. We don't want you getting hurt out there, again."
"Hey," he cried in, mostly, feigned insult. "It's not my fault that I've got a crazed house-" he cut off mid sentence and staggered as a sudden flash of pain ripped through his head.
Barely, he was aware that both girls reacted similarly, Susan letting out a pained cry as something was abruptly and painfully ripped from them. Agony didn't begin to describe it and, thankfully, the sensation didn't last for long as they slumped to the ground, consciousness fleeing, leaving them lying on the floor just outside the Great Hall.
#####
Ice blue eyes flew open and Daphne bolted upright into a sitting position as panic gripped her and she stared ahead with unseeing eyes.
"You're all right, Miss Greengrass," a voice said and a hand took ahold of one of hers, squeezing it gently. A goblet was pressed to her lips and she obligingly swallowed without thinking. She didn't even taste the calming draught, but it's effects were felt rapidly and she blinked several times, the Hospital Wing swimming into focus around her.
The antiseptic smells of the wing assaulted her nose, as well as the comforting scents of soap and broomstick polish that she associated with Harry. Honeysuckle was barely detectable as well. Low, murmured conversation surrounded her and she turned her head as Madam Pomfrey bustled around her.
Amelia was standing nearby, her face like a thundercloud as she spoke with the headmaster in a fierce undertone. In the bed next to hers, Susan was sitting up, staring blankly ahead with tears streaming unchecked down her cheeks and Harry sat in the chair between their beds, one hand tightly clasping one of Susan's and the other still holding her own.
"Daphne?"
Woodenly, she turned to her left to find her mother sitting in another chair beside her, her eyes filled with concern.
"Mama?" she asked, too distraught to be embarrassed by how much like a child she sounded in that moment.
"I'm here, baby," her mother whispered, scooting her chair closer to the bed even as she reached for her daughter. Daphne barely reacted, hardly able to feel anything but the mind numbing pain as her mothers arms wrapped around her.
"What happened?" she whispered. She couldn't think of why they were in the Hospital Wing.
"There was another attack!"
She looked up to find Amelia standing by Harry, one hand on his shoulder as she stared at Daphne.
Daphne looked around, a ball of lead forming in her gut as a terrible suspicion began to form. "W-wh-where's H-Hermione?" she stammered, struggling to hold onto her composure.
Amelia's eyes flickered to a set of privacy screens set around the bed on Susan's other side and before anyone could move Daphne was scrambling from her bed as she released Harry's hand and slipped from her mother's arms. She shoved her way past the screens and came to an abrupt halt, staring blankly at the petrified form of her friend and bond mate.
The expression on Hermione's frozen face was one of shock and fear, her eyes staring lifelessly up at the ceiling, her hair fanned out on the pillow beneath her head.
Daphne didn't realize she'd started crying until she found herself sobbing into Harry's shoulder, his arms wrapped tightly around her.
"It's okay," his voice soothed. "She's still there. She's not gone, not entirely. Search for her and you'll feel her."
It took several minute for her to process what he was saying and several more before she was able to do as he suggested, closing her eyes and focussing as hard as she could on their bond. Eventually, she found it and a flood of relief filled her. Hermione was still there. Daphne could barely feel her presence and likened it to when Harry briefly closed their bond, but she was still there.
"Oh no," she muttered when she opened her eyes a few moments later. "Neville."
Neville was lying on the bed opposite Hermione and next to him was another figure, a girl she vaguely recognized as a sixth year Ravenclaw Prefect. Both were as stiff and frozen as the other victims.
After some time simply standing there, she found herself being led back to her bed as the adults in the room arranged themselves around the three of them. Daphne reached out and Susan responded in kind, the two of them clasping hands across the narrow space between their beds.
Also present, aside from Amelia, the Headmaster, and her mother, was Augusta Longbottom, and their Head of House.
"First, I would like to say that I am pleased to see the three of you awake after your ordeal. I cannot begin to guess how difficult this must be for you," Dumbledore started in an exhausted tone.
Daphne felt a flush of anger from harry, that she agreed with entirely, at the sight go the old wizard but she pushed it aside and did her best to soothe him through their link. Now was not the time for their issues with the Headmaster.
"It has been two days, now, since the attack. Can you tell me anything about why we found Miss Granger, Miss Clearwater, and Lord Longbottom in the hall outside of the Library instead of down at the Quidditch match?"
They were silent for a moment before Harry let out a sigh. "I've… I've been hearing a voice, at times," he admitted, going on to tell them about each time he'd heard it and what it was saying.
"Why did you not mention this before?"
"No one else seemed to hear it," he said. "Hearing voices that no one else can isn't usually a good thing."
"We heard it too, this time," Daphne pointed out. "But it didn't seem like Neville could."
"So you heard this voice and Miss Granger rushed off to check something in the Library?" Dumbledore prompted.
"Yeah. I didn't want her to go but Neville said he'd go with her. We were on our way to the pitch when…" he trailed off, his eyes flicking toward Neville's gran.
"Go ahead, Harry," Amelia encouraged him. "It's going to come out, eventually, and your families are allied anyway. You can trust Madam Longbottom. I'll explain it to her later."
He nodded and continued. "Well, we felt elation from Hermione. She figured something out. She was excited, at least, and a little scared. A couple of minutes later there was this awful pain and then we woke up here."
Neville's gran had a considering expression on her face as she listened without interrupting.
"I was on my way down to the pitch, after discovering the new victims, to cancel the match when I found the three of you, collapsed in the entrance hall," McGonagall said.
"Rumor is, of course, working overtime. Most of the students are wondering what happened to the three of you and the stories are getting more and more outlandish with every telling. With your permission, I would like to put those rumors to rest and inform the school of your bond."
"Lady Zabini said we should go public with the bond, but isn't that dangerous?"
"Indeed, it can be. Letting everyone know of a potential weakness is not ideal, but I see few other alternatives. If we claim your collapse was in no way related to the attack, or claim another cause, speculation will continue to grow. Some are still claiming you to be a Dark Lord in the making, though not quite as vocally as before.
"By telling them about your bond that should quiet the majority of the doubters and you shall simply have to maintain greater caution in the future."
The three of them exchanged a look and, eventually, Daphne found herself nodding, along with Susan.
"Then I shall make an announcement tonight at dinner," Dumbledore said. "Now, can any of you think what Miss Granger might have understood? Anything might help point us in the right direction."
They discussed it for a time, everyone offering their thoughts but in the end, no one was able to guess what Hermione had figured out.
"It must be a serpent of some kind," Daphne suggested after they'd exhausted all other ideas.
"A serpent?" Dumbledore's gaze was sharp and calculating. "What makes you think that?"
"When Harry spoke to that snake at the dueling club, Hermione, Susan and I could understand them, but none of us are Parslemouths. He is though. We've been thinking that we can understand it because he can with the bond. Neville said he hadn't heard any voice when he was standing right next to Harry on Halloween, and again, he didn't seem like he could hear it this last time but we could. It must be speaking in Parsletongue."
"Hmmm… a distinct possibility," Dumbeldore agreed, "though I know of no serpent, or any other creature, that petrifies in this manner."
"I will have madam Pince see if she can't determine where Miss Granger was focusing her research, McGonagall said. "Thought I doubt we will have much luck. Even if it hadn't been two days since then, Miss Granger always puts the books back on the shelves when she finishes with them. There would be no way to determine which books she was looking through."
"On that note, I am still wondering why we were not informed of this until this morning," Amelia said, glaring furiously at the Headmaster. "We should have been notified immediately."
"I did not wish to worry anyone over a situation that has no immediate solution. Not until we were certain there was no immediate danger."
Amelia gaped at him. "No immediate… what in the bloody hell would you call this!" she shrieked, waving one hand to indicate the five petrified students.
"They are perfectly safe, in fact, in their present condition they may be safer than anyone else in the castle."
"Hermione isn't safe!" Harry suddenly snapped. "This hurts. You can't begin to understand how much it hurts with her like this. We have each other to lean on but she's in there, alone, with nothing but the pain!" he bellowed pointing to their frozen bond mate.
He turned away when Amelia stepped forward and placed a calming hand on his shoulder, glaring at a distant wall instead of continuing to look at the Headmaster.
"I'm going to see to it that everyone else remains as safe as possible," she snarled at Dumbledore. "From now on there will be an Auror squad stationed on premises at all times. Prefects will be ceasing their patrols and students will have a teacher and Auror escort between classes."
"Hogwarts has not requested the services of the DMLE," Dumbledore tried to interject.
"Oh, yes it has. I am the Head of the DMLE and I was called here in response to an attack on students. Yes, I know it's a technicality," she interrupted as he opened his mouth to argue. "But I'm going to run with it and you know damn well that the Wizengamont would support me actions. Most of them have children here."
She was practically screaming as she reached the end of her tirade and she paused to take a deep breath. When she continued she spoke in a considerably calmer voice. "I will be stationing Aurors here. You will cooperate with them and they will help patrol the school with the professors. Am I understood?"
"Of course, Madam Bones," Dumbeldore said, finally.
"I'm also going to recommend to the Wizengamont that the Aurors be allowed to search the students belongings. Someone has that diary the girls told McGonagall about and that's our best clue right now to finding out what exactly is going on around here. This is a School, Headmaster. Not your personal fiefdom, and the students here should be your first priority."
"I assure you every student under my care is always my first priority," he said in a low, dangerous voice.
"Then I suggest you start acting like it, old man. Because from where we're standing it certainly doesn't look like it."
The two stood there for a moment, glaring at each other before Dumbledore turned and looked at Harry. "Lord Potter," he said. "I am pleased that you, Miss Greengrass, and Miss Bones are well." With that he turned and left the room with professor McGonagall following behind him.
"What in Merlins name does he mean, 'well'," Susan muttered, drawing Daphne's attention. "It hurts," she moaned and seemed to curl in on herself, sobbing uncontrollably.
Never before had Daphne felt so helpless. She had no idea how to help Susan. Amelia sat beside her bed and rubbed her nieces back until Madam Pomfrey approached and managed to get a dose of Dreamless Sleep into her. Despite the name, Daphne didn't think Susan's sleep was all that dreamless based on how she twitched and moaned in her sleep.
"Madam Pomfrey?" Harry asked, quietly from where he'd returned to the chair between Susan's and Daphne's beds.
"Yes, Harry?"
"Do you know why this is hitting Susan so hard? I mean, yes it hurts, so much, but neither Daphne or I are falling apart…"
The mediwitch gave a sad sigh. "I can only guess, in your case, that your past is proving to be of some benefit here. You have a higher than normal tolerance for pain, Harry. Higher than I think I've ever seen. I can't honestly begin to guess with Miss Greengrass. Perhaps she simply has a strong will?"
She patted his shoulder and walked off to check on her other patients. A few beds away, Amelia was speaking quietly to Madam Longbottom, probably explaining the bond to her, Daphne decided.
Her mother continued to sit beside her bed, simply observing as Daphne turned to study Harry with a critical eye. He was tense, his posture defensive and his emotions were difficult for her to categorize. He couldn't block them anymore, but recently his Occlumency practice had progressed to the point where he could start controlling his emotions. He might even be ready to start work on his shields soon.
She frowned when she realized he was bottling up his emotions instead of working through them.
"It's not your fault, Harry," she said a moment later, the words slipping out almost before she'd realized she was going to say them.
"I should have stopped her."
"She has free will and a mind of her own, Harry. Some people might be willing to obey a command from you without question, but you know damn well that Hermione will never be one of them."
"Then Ishould have gone with her," he snapped. "I swore I'd keep you all safe and so far I've been doing a pretty piss poor job of it."
"What did I tell you about Susan, Harry?" Amelia cut in from her spot by Neville's bed. "Last year during the Christmas break. You and I talked one night and what did I tell you?"
Harry sighed. "That you couldn't protect her every send of the day," he admitted, reluctantly.
"She's my family, I swore to protect her long before you did. Is it my fault she's hurting right now, because I wasn't there to protect her?"
"What? Of course not, but-"
"'But' nothing, Lord Potter. There is little difference between the two situations. You had other responsibilities and you did your best to caution her and Neville went with her. There isn't much you could have done," Augusta cut in, glaring at Harry from beside her Grandson. "I do not at all blame you for Neville being in this state. It is not up to you to protect everyone all the time. It's not possible. You aren't a god, young man. You cannot do everything and be everywhere."
Harry met her gaze firmly but there was no way Augusta Longbottom was going to back down from a twelve-year-old wizard, even one as powerful and potentially influential as Harry Potter. Eventually he sighed and looked away, his fingers twisting in his lap.
"Harry? Why don't you go show Amelia the Room?" Daphne suggested and Harry gave her a confused look.
"Why?"
"I think you need to blow something up."
He almost quirked a smile at that, but not quite. "Madam Pomfrey isn't likely to let me out of here to go blow things up."
"Let me handle Poppy," Amelia said. "It might be good for you to blow off a little steam, and besides, I'd quite like to see this room you've told me about." She stood and walked off, leaving the rest of them alone with their thoughts.
#####
"You haven't told them, have you?" Danyella Greengrass said after Amelia and Harry left the hospital wing a few minutes later with Madam Pomfrey's permission. She kept her voice low so that their conversation couldn't be overheard by Augusta who still maintained a quiet vigil by her grandsons bedside. The older witch had a thoughtful expression on her face, and, occasionally, her eyes would flick to the three girls but she made no motion to approach them.
"What could I possibly say, Mother?" Daphne whispered, brokenly. Her eyes were drawn, almost against her will, to land on Hermione's petrified form and a stabbing pain ripped through her chest at the sight. "She could have died," she whispered again, so quietly it was almost impossible to hear her. "She could have died and I… I haven't…"
"You love her."
Daphne whipped her gaze back to her mother sitting on her other side.
"Don't try to deny it. You may be young but you know what this bond will eventually mean. And you've never felt particularly attracted to males."
"I'm only thirteen-years-old, Mother-"
"Age truly has little to do with years, Daughter, I've taught you that much," Danyella gently interrupted her. "You are old enough to understand who you find attractive and who you don't."
"What of it? Father has made it clear that I need to marry Lord Potter."
"Which we both know was going to happen anyway. He may not truly believe the stories about Soul Bonds, despite the evidence. He doesn't feel it truly means you will be married eventually, hence his push for you to secure a betrothal offer from the young Lord.
"But we know better, don't we? You will come to love him, it is only a matter of time, and in the meantime you are already recognizing your feelings for the other girls."
Daphne squirmed in place, feeling, as always, that her thoughts were laid bare before her mother. Somehow the woman just always seemed to know exactly what she was thinking, sometimes even better than Daphne herself did.
"Again, what of it? Yes, in the future, I'm certain we will all three be married to Harry Potter. I already do care for him a great deal," she admitted. "And I am also certain that, yes, I will come to truly love him, but I won't ever feel for him what Susan and Hermione will, and they won't feel for me what I will for them."
"Do you truly have so little faith in your own soul?" Danyella sighed and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, gathering her daughter back into her arms again. "Oh, little one," she sighed. "If you could not feel for him what is needed, you would not be bonded. And they would not be bonded to you if they couldn't feel the same for you either. This bond will not let you be with people that you could not be truly happy with. But it won't just happen. Like any relationship you have to work for it. Have you let the girls know how you feel?"
She shook her head, almost violently.
"Why ever not?"
"Such… feelings aren't well like in our world, mother, you know that. Some people don't care, but the old families, like Susan's, most of them do, and you know as well as I that a lot of muggle society doesn't look kindly on it either."
"So?"
"So I don't know how they'll react. I know right now I care for Harry, and I can, objectively, recognize and point out that he is attractive, but I don't feel that for him. Not yet, if I'm to believe you. So if they're the same, if they can't, or don't yet feel anything for me… I don't know. I don't want to push things too early. If I do anything or say anything before they're ready… what if that pushes them away? What if it hurts our bond? Hurts us? In the information we received from the goblins there was not one reference to a Soul Bonded couple of the same gender."
Danyella considered that, absently rocking her daughter gently before she spoke. "I don't have that answer, little one," she murmured against her daughters hair. "I don't know, but you can't lie to them forever. You will have to let them in. You will need to tell them about your life growing up, and you'll need to let them know what you feel and decide for themselves how they feel for you. You've mentioned many times how smart Hermione is, do you honestly think she hasn't considered this possibility?"
"If she has, she hasn't mentioned it."
"And neither have you," her mother pointed out. "Just… just think about it. Consider the situation carefully. Nothing worth having is ever attained easily, and never without some risk. You just might have to take a risk and trust your heart to them. They already care for you, and even if they do not yet feel as you do, I believe you can trust them not to be cruel. If they don't feel it yet, I am positive they will, in time."
Daphne had nothing to say to that so she simply leaned back against her mother and let her mind drift, considering the life ahead of her that she'd once looked toward with fear and even a touch of despair, but now she was starting to think there might be a glimmer of hope possible for her.
"I almost kissed her," she said, suddenly, startling herself at the admission.
"Hmmm?"
She blushed brightly but pushed ahead, knowing her mothering would never let such an admission slide without an explanation. "Hermione," she said. "I told you how she and Harry have experienced a growth within our bond, right?"
Danyella nodded but said nothing.
"It hurt Susan and I that we haven't experienced the same. At the last Quidditch match, Harry was hurt."
"The one with that rogue bludger you wrote to me about?"
"Yes. Anyway, he was hurt badly enough that Madam Pomfrey had to use sticking charms to hold him immobile in bed. I was allowed to stay overnight here to keep him company. When Susan, Hermione, and I were heading down for dinner I finally admitted how it hurt and she told me, she said that I belonged to them and they belonged to me." Daphne let out a small laugh. "She has this habit of chewing on her bottom lip whenever she's thinking about something really hard or when she's nervous and it's absolutely the most adorable and distracting thing I've ever seen."
"Was she doing it then?"
"Yes, she was, and I swear I almost kissed her right then in the middle of the hall with Susan wrapped around us both and Neville standing down the hall from us. He'd promised Harry he'd watch out for us so he was following at a distance, giving us a bit of privacy to talk."
"He sounds like a good lad."
"He is. Neville has proven, repeatedly, that he is a good person, and a great and loyal friend."
"So what are you going to do the next time she chews on her bottom lip?" her mother asked after a few minutes of easy silence passed between them, a teasing note in her voice.
Daphne blushed again, she could feel her cheeks warming as the blood rushed to her face. "I don't know," she admitted. "I still don't think she's ready for that, if she ever will be."
"You'll never know if you don't take a chance," Danyella said. "Enough for now, though. You need to try to rest."
She adjusted herself in the bed so she was leaning back against the railing at the head of the narrow mattress, still holding Daphne in her arms and she resumed rocking the girl, quietly humming a lullaby that she used to sing to her when she was still just a little girl, before the scars had started, and before life became complicated.
#####
I need to blow stuff up… Harry thought over and over as he paced back and forth in front of the blank stretch of wall in the seventh floor corridor. Surprised was barely adequate to describe how he'd felt when Amelia returned with Madam Pomfrey's permission for him to leave the Hospital Wing. Not willing to look a gift horse in the mouth he quickly changed from the hospital pajamas he'd woken up in into a pair of black pants and a black long sleeved shirt and tugged on his dragon hide boots to complete the outfit before he lead Amelia out into the school.
With his wand stowed in the holster strapped to his wrist he yanked open the door and strode purposefully into the room with Amelia following behind him. She more than understood the concept of blowing off steam, but she was a little worried about Harry's mood. He needed to let out the emotions he was bottling up and blowing things up probably wasn't going to be enough to do that.
The Room had created a firing range larger than the one they usually used and Harry's wand shot into his hand, a curse already on his lips as he targeted one of the many dozen dummies set up down range.
Blasting curses, exploding hexes, whips made of flame, the all shot from his wand with impressive speed and power. Dummies and targets alike were blown apart, ripped to shreds, or set alight one after another as rage and guilt rose like a tidal wave inside him.
"Reducto!" he hissed furiously and the last dummy was blown into tiny pieces. A moment later the Room reset and he continued picking his targets apart. As he cast, he reached deeper and deeper into that well of power that he had access to. He wand hummed in a white knuckled grip, the sensation growing stronger and stronger until the length of wood was literally vibrating.
Amelia stood back, after first taking a moment to marvel at what the room provided, and watched ten minutes of impressive, wanton destruction. By the fifteenth minute mark, Harry was panting harshly and dripping sweat.
"Harry, I think that's enough now," she called when the fifth round of dummies was obliterated. When a ten foot slab of granite appeared and sparks started to erupt from along the shaft of his wand she threw caution to the wind and surged forward through the cloud of raw magic that hung in the air around him and yanked him back.
His shouted 'Reducto!' erupted from the end of his wand with such force that the recoil knocked them both back several feet, sending them sorawling on the floor and, instinctively, she wrapped herself around him even as she cast the strongest shield she could muster in front of them. The stone slab erupted spectacularly, filling the end of the room with a cloud of dust as fist sized chunks of stone pinged off her shield for nearly a minute.
When the sound of falling rubble finally stopped, she waited ten more seconds and then let her shield drop, turning her focus to the boy in her arms.
"Harry, are you okay?" she asked, worry clear in her voice and her deep blue eyes as she checked him over for injury.
"She's still there," he whispered, so quietly she almost missed it.
"What?" She helped him sit up, ignoring the tears streaming down his face as she looked into a pain filled emerald gaze.
"She's still there," he said again. "I can just barely feel her, but she's there, and I know she'll be okay, so why does it hurt so much?"
Amelia sighed and pulled him, unresisting, into her arms. "Well, it hurts because you're bonded. That's a given. But I think there's more to it than that. I think it hurts so much because you care about her, kiddo. Might even love her."
Harry shook his head at that. "I don't know what love is."
"Of course you do," she disagreed. "It's just hard for you to recognize. Those girls love you." His head shot up at that and she chuckled quietly. "Don't act so surprised, Harry. I'm not saying they want to marry you or anything," yet, she added, mentally, "but they love you all the same. Neville loves you like a brother. And I love you, too. You've kind of become the son I never got around to having. I know we haven't been at this guardian thing for long, but I'm happy, more than I can express, that you've let us, let me, into your life."
She gave him a moment to consider that and smiled when his head dropped back onto her shoulder as, for the first time, he relaxed completely into her embrace, every last trace of tension leaving him in a rush that left him limp and weary.
"You care about those girls, and you care about Neville. When the people we care about are hurt, it hurts us." She gently, absently ran the fingers of one hand through his unruly hair. "It's the greatest contradiction in life. The ones we love give us strength, and, at the same time, they make us weak. Hermione and Neville will be fine, understand?" she asked and he nodded, silently.
"In the meantime, there are two other girls that are hurting just as badly as you are. I think you'll need each other more than ever right now, think you can do that?"
Harry nodded again and sat up, visibly pulling himself together as he wiped the tears from his cheeks.
"Hey," she said and waited until he met her eyes. "That doesn't mean that you always have to be the strong one. You're just as entitled to help and support when you need it, understand?"
"Yeah," he said, giving her a small, sad smile. "Thank you, Amelia."
"That's what I'm here for," she said.
Standing, she helped him to his feet and he found and quickly stowed his wand back in its holster. In the excitement, Amelia forgot about the sparks she'd seen erupting from Harry's wand, and, contained within the magic resistant holster hidden by his sleeve, neither of them noticed as the wand sparked a few more times as energy bled out from the dozens of tiny cracks running along the shaft.
