"Smith!" Draco hissed.
"That would be me." Bree replied. Draco tried to sit up.
"Oh, don't get up on my account." Bree chided. "Not that you can."
"What did you do to me!" Draco demanded.
"Oh hush now. There's no need to worry it's just a little low level restraint. Higher level and you wouldn't be able to talk, but it's not like a higher level is necessary, you're not very strong and you're distracted by pain." Bree answered.
"Why are you doing this to me?" Draco snarled.
"You, you, you, you, you. Why does it have to be about you? It's not. There's something clinging to you like a bad smell. I want to find out what it is, and here you are, alone in the hospital wing. How could I pass up such a perfect opportunity?" Bree questioned. "Now where is it?" she felt around with a detection ward. Draco tried to squirm uncomfortably.
"Yeah sorry about that, never used this one before, just activated it before coming down here. It's a bit of a strain, like carrying one more shopping bag than you should. The others are probably feeling it too. We should really get someone to help carry the load." Bree explained.
"Aha! There it is!" she exclaimed. She rolled up on of Draco's sleeves.
"Oh, that is a nasty piece of work. You should really moisturize more often. Of course that Dark Mark doesn't really help." Bree commented.
"So you're one of his sheep now?" she asked. Draco remained silent.
"Oh that's fine. Don't speak up; we have ways of making you talk." Bree stated before pulling out two vials. One was labeled.
"Now this," Bree began holding up the unlabeled vial, "Is Veritaserum, very effective. Makes the drinker tell the truth, problem with it is getting it into your mouth."
Bree held up the labeled vial. "This is sodium amytal. I suppose you could call it the muggle version of Veritaserum. Trouble is, I have to stab you with a needle." She pulled out a syringe with a needle.
"This needle in fact." She stuck the needle in the vial and drew out some of the liquid. "Injected into a vein it will circulate throughout your entire body. Of course there are side effects, and there is a chance I'll miss the vein and have to stab you repeatedly, and while I know the right dose for Veritaserum, I'm not sure how much sodium amytal I should give you, so I might just kill you. Not much of a loss, really. But it would cause quite a commotion and that would be inconviant."
Bree began poking Draco's arm. "Now I have to find a vein." She looked up Draco.
"You wouldn't happen to know what a vein feels like, would you?" Draco stared at her, a look of sheer terror on his face.
"I thought not, well, I've always wanted to give random stabbing a try, unless, you'd care to open your mouth for the Veritaserum?" Bree pressed, grinning, her teeth getting sharper. Draco opened his mouth.
"Good boy." Bree said as she carefully administered three drops of Veritaserum. Once that was done she put the vial away and then tossed the syringe and the sodium amythal over her shoulder. The vial shattered one the floor, the syringe didn't.
"Oh that's right. They don't make them out of glass anymore." Bree said. She retrieved the syringe, pushed the plunger and squirted the liquid into her mouth.
"Ah, that's some good H2O. Also known as water, for those of us that don't speak science." She stated, grinning as her eyes became catlike. "It's already present in your body. Air bubble, that's what you have to watch for." She pulled the plunger back, filling the syringe with air.
"Circulatory system is a closed system. If you get a big enough bubble inside it and the bubble reaches the heart you go into cardiac arrest. Cheap way to kill someone, doesn't show up in toxicology report, but a bit suspicious in someone with no history of heart troubles." Bree explained. "Oh but I'm rambling, let's get on to the questions."
"What are you?" Draco blurted out. Bree glared.
"I ask the questions. Not you." She stated coldly.
"Now," she began, a grin sliding back onto her face, "have you ever kissed a girl? You're mother doesn't count."
"No." Draco answered.
"Do you think your father is proud of you?"
"No."
"That's a bit sad. Are you a Death Eater?"
"Yes."
"Did Voldemort give you a mission?"
"Yes."
"What is it?"
"Kill Dumbledore."
Bree eyes went wide, her grin changed from predatory to ecstatic. "You?" she laughed. "He wants you to kill Dumbledore?"
"Yes." Draco replied, having no choice but to answer.
"Oh that's rich, that's really rich!" Bree exclaim, her eyes full of mirth. "Mommy's little boy, riding on Daddy's coattails, and they want to turn him into a murderer?"
"Yes."
"I suppose you expect me to turn you in?"
"Yes."
"Oh, but that wouldn't be fun at all. You're the other player in this year's game!" Bree exclaimed. "Do you know who it was last year?"
"No."
"Umbridge. Did you hear about her death?"
"Yes."
"Of course you did, happened right in the Ministry. She died on my birthday too, not long after last year's game ended and she stopped being fun and just became a nuisance. But you'll keep the game fun for me, right?"
"Yes."
"Oh, this game will be great, watching you try and fail, and if you succeed… well, that's one less problem for me. Of course since it is a game, there will be a few rules for you to follow and a few penalties if you break them. Number One: You're not allowed to tell anyone about what has transpired here this evening, that's a great word, transpired. The penalty for breaking rule one is… well your mother will find that out." Bree smirked at Draco.
"She's not safe you know, even if she thinks she is she's not, after all, Rookwood thought he was safe, that didn't make it true. Rule Number Two: You hurt a student during your efforts to kill old Dumbles and we will have a problem. Rule Number Three:" Bree got very close to Draco and spoke in a soft voice.
"If anyone I care about gets hurt because of your efforts to kill Dumbledore and your life will became eternal suffering." She pulled away from Draco.
"One last question and then I'll go, are you afraid of me?"
"Yes."
Bree moved to leave, her eyes and teeth becoming more human. She paused for a moment at the curtain.
"Draco, last year we booth met with the Heads of our Houses to plan out what we wanted to become in the future. I told McGonagall that I had options that didn't really require N.E.W.T level coursework. But when I was talking to her I overlooked one option, one that doesn't require magic but it certainly wouldn't hurt." she said, not turning around.
"I recently decided what I want to become, it was always there; practically staring me in the face until finally realized it. I am going to become someone whose enemies would rather run from than face the wrath of. Someone who no one would dare anger for fear of retribution, because nothing angers me more than someone hurting someone I care about, so congratulations Draco, you are the first of a long line." And with that, Bree left.
The next day Harry revealed that he found a signature in the back of his potion book. "Property of the Half Blood Prince" it read.
For or the rest of the week's Potions lessons Harry continued to follow the Half-Blood Prince's instructions wherever they deviated from Libatius Borage's, and Bree continued to copy Harry, with the result that by their fourth lesson Slughorn was raving about Harry's abilities, saying that he had rarely taught anyone so talented. Neither Ron nor Hermione was delighted by this. Although Harry had offered to share his book with both of them, Ron had more difficulty deciphering the handwriting than Harry did, and could not keep asking Harry to read aloud or it might look suspicious. Hermione, meanwhile, was resolutely plowing on with what she called the "official" instructions, but becoming increasingly bad-tempered as they yielded poorer results than the Prince's.
Hermione was kind of stupid that way. She was so by the book that it got in the way of progress. Imagine if everyone in the entire history of the human race stuck to what they had learned and refused to question, refused to find a better way of doing things. We would never have gotten anywhere. Bree stopped trying to point this out to Hermione, it never got anywhere.
Harry wondered vaguely who the Half-Blood Prince had been. Although the amount of homework they had been given prevented him from reading the whole of his copy of Advanced Potion-Making, he had skimmed through it sufficiently to see that there was barely a page on which the Prince had not made additional notes, not all of them concerned with potion-making. Here and there were directions for what looked like spells that the Prince had made up himself.
"Or herself," said Hermione irritably, overhearing Harry pointing some of these out to Ron in the common room on Saturday evening. "It might have been a girl. I think the handwriting looks more like a girl's than a boy's."
"The Half-Blood Prince, he was called," Harry said. "How many girls have been princes?"
"Could be a family name." Bree pointed out.
"Who do you know who has got the last name Prince?" Ron asked.
"Robert Prince. Broadway composer, also jazz, back in its heyday." Bree replied.
"How do you know that?" Harry inquired.
"Same way I know that Snouted Cobra venom can kill you in thirty minutes." Bree answered.
"And how's that?" Ron question.
"Well its venom is like a paralytic so your muscles shut down, including the ones that control breathing, so you suffocate." Bree answered before walking out.
"That's not what I was asking!" Ron called after her.
Bree activated her perception filter and waited for Harry to come out of the common room. When he did, she followed him.
Harry proceeded through deserted corridors, though he had to step hastily behind a statue when Professor Trelawney appeared around a corner, muttering to herself as she shuffled a pack of dirty-looking playing cards, reading them as she walked.
"Two of spades: conflict," she murmured, as she passed the place where Harry crouched, hidden. "Seven of spades: an ill omen. Ten of spades: violence. Knave of spades: a dark young man, possibly troubled, one who dislikes the questioner -"
She stopped dead, right on the other side of Harry's statue.
"Well, that can't be right," she said, annoyed, and she reshuffled vigorously as she set off again, leaving nothing but a whiff of cooking sherry behind her. Harry waited until he was quite sure she had gone, then hurried off again until he reached the spot in the seventh-floor corridor where a single gargoyle stood against the wall.
"Acid Pops," said Harry, and the gargoyle leapt aside; the wall behind it slid apart, and a moving spiral stone staircase was revealed, onto which Harry stepped, so that he was carried in smooth circles up to the door with the brass knocker that led to Dumbledore's Office.
Harry knocked.
"Come in," said Dumbledore s voice.
"Good evening, sir," said Harry, walking into the Headmaster's office. Bree followed unseen.
"Ah, good evening, Harry. Sit down," said Dumbledore, smiling. "I hope you've had an enjoyable first week back at school?"
"Yes, thanks, sir," said Harry.
The circular office looked just as it always did; the delicate silver instruments stood on spindle-legged tables, puffing smoke and whirring; portraits of previous headmasters and headmistresses dozed in their frames, and Dumbledore's magnificent phoenix, Fawkes, stood on his perch behind the door, watching Harry with bright interest.
"So, Harry," said Dumbledore, in a businesslike voice. "You have been wondering, I am sure, what I have planned for you during these-for want of a better word - lessons?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, I have decided that it is time, now that you know what prompted Lord Voldemort to try and kill you fifteen years ago, for you to be given certain information." There was a pause.
"You said, at the end of last term, you were going to tell me everything," said Harry. It was hard to keep a note of accusation from his voice. "Sir," he added.
"And so I did," said Dumbledore placidly. "I told you everything I know. From this point forth, we shall be leaving the firm foundation of fact and journeying together through the murky marshes of memory into thickets of wildest guesswork. From here on in, Harry, I may be as woefully wrong as Humphrey Belcher, who believed the time was ripe for a cheese cauldron."
"But you think you're right?" said Harry.
"Naturally I do, but as I have already proven to you, I make mistakes like the next man. In fact, being - forgive me-rather cleverer than most men, my mistakes tend to be correspondingly huger."
Bree rolled her eyes.
"Sir," said Harry tentatively, "does what you're going to tell me have anything to do with the prophecy? Will it help me... survive?"
"It has a very great deal to do with the prophecy," said Dumbledore, as casually as if Harry had asked him about the next day's weather, "and I certainly hope that it will help you to survive."
Dumbledore got to his feet and walked around the desk, past Harry, who turned eagerly in his seat to watch Dumbledore bending over the cabinet beside the door. When Dumbledore straightened up, he was holding a familiar shallow stone basin etched with odd markings around its rim. He placed the Pensieve on the desk in front of Harry.
"You look worried."
Harry had indeed been eyeing the Pensieve with some apprehension.
"This time, you enter the Pensieve with me... and, even more unusually, with permission."
"Where are we going, sir?"
"For a trip down Bob Ogden's memory lane," said Dumbledore, pulling from his pocket a crystal bottle containing a swirling silvery-white substance.
"Who was Bob Ogden?"
"He was employed by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," said Dumbledore. "He died some time ago, but not before I had tracked him down and persuaded him to confide these recollections to me. We are about to accompany him on a visit he made in the course of his duties. If you will stand, Harry ..."
But Dumbledore was having difficulty pulling out the stopper of the crystal bottle: his injured hand seemed stiff and painful.
"Shall -shall I, sir?"
"No matter, Harry -"
Dumbledore pointed his wand at the bottle and the cork flew out.
"Sir-how did you injure your hand?" Harry asked again, looking at the blackened fingers with a mixture of revulsion and pity.
"Now is not the moment for that story, Harry. Not yet. We have an appointment with Bob Ogden."
Dumbledore tipped the silvery contents of the bottle into the Pensieve, where they swirled and shimmered, neither liquid nor gas. "After you," said Dumbledore, gesturing toward the bowl.
Harry disappeared into the pensive, followed by Dumbledore, leaving Bree alone in the office. She didn't follow, despite her curiosity. She wasn't sure if the perception filter would hold up if she did. Instead she sat down at Dumbledore's desk and wrote a note.
If you're reading this, congratulations, you're not dead yet, though you are approaching the end of your life. But that's fine. You have lived a very long time and have very little to show for it, unless you count your mistakes and the actions you took credit for.
As a good Doctor once said "a longer life isn't always a better one. In the end, you just get tired; tired of the struggle, tired of losing everyone that matters to you, tired of watching everything you love turn to dust. If you live long enough the only certainty left is that you'll end up alone." Others may mourn your death. I will rejoice in it.
She left the note folded on Dumbledore's desk and then she wandered around the room, examining whatever object caught her eye until Harry and Dumbledore returned. She watched as they discussed what they had seen in the penseive. She noted several names to look into later.
There was an interesting little exchange as Harry turned to leave.
"Sir," said Harry, staring at it. "That ring-"
"Yes?" said Dumbledore.
"You were wearing it when we visited Professor Slughorn that night."
"So I was," Dumbledore agreed.
"But isn't it... sir, isn't it the same ring Marvolo Gaunt showed Ogden?"
Dumbledore bowed his head. "The very same."
"But how come... have you always had it?"
"No, I acquired it very recently," said Dumbledore. "A few days before I came to fetch you from your aunt and uncle's, in fact."
"That would be around the time you injured your hand, then, sir?"
"Around that time, yes, Harry."
Harry hesitated. Dumbledore was smiling.
"Sir, how exactly-?"
"Too late, Harry! You shall hear the story another time. Goodnight."
"Goodnight, sir."
"So Voldemort came from the Gaunt line, the last remnant of the Slytherin line. They were big on blood purity and each generation became weaker and weaker. Voldemort's mother was practically a squib, then she tricks a muggle and has a half-blood baby that becomes the leader of a fanatic blood purity movement. Now that, my friends, is irony… or stupidity." Bree told Luna and Neville.
"It is rather strange, isn't it?" Luna commented.
"But what's the point of knowing all this?" Neville asked.
"I have no idea, but Dumbledore does seem to be going somewhere with this, but of course since this is Dumbledore, he has to lead us over the hill and around the bend before he finally gets to the point."
"So you're going to keep spying on him then?" Neville questioned.
"Yes." Bree replied.
"But why, Harry is telling Sirius everything."
"Because I don't trust Dumbledore." Bree replied. "And now onto the next order of business, where are we going to find a fourth?"
"Not with the Slytherins. We can't trust them." Neville answered.
"I don't think there are any students with Slytherin qualities that we can trust." Luna stated.
Bree frowned. "The House of Slytherin has become known for dark magic over the years. It's becoming a problem. Without a fourth we won't be able to restore Hogwarts to full power, but any of the students that might fit can't be…" Bree stopped mid-sentence, a look of sudden realization on her face.
"What is it?" Neville asked.
"I can't believe it I didn't think of it before." Bree stated. "How could I possibly be that stupid!"
"What are you talking about!" Neville exclaimed.
"Who said it had to be a Slytherin student?" Bree replied. "Ben was in Slytherin."
Fortunately, tying Ben to the Slytherin keystone didn't require a trip down to the Chamber of Secrets. Old Salazar had a room that was a little easier to access, which made sense; it would be rather tiring to trek all the way down to the chamber anytime you wanted to be alone. The Slytherin keystone looked like a snake strangling a rather sickly lion.
"Oh, don't act like you haven't seen Godric's." the portrait of Slytherin huffed in response to Bree's incredulous stare.
"Ooo, Hogwarts is just teeming with power now! All the wards are fully active! I feel giddy!" Bree exclaimed.
"So what do you plan to do now?" Ben asked.
"Now? I'm going to teach the first years about the muggle country "Imaginationland" and its capital city "LSD." Bree replied before skipping off.
"Sometimes I worry about that girl." Ben told Luna and Neville.
549. Not allowed to tell first years about the muggle country "Imaginationland" and its capital city "LSD."
As Hermione had predicted, the sixth-years' free periods were not the hours of blissful relaxation Ron had anticipated, but times in which to attempt to keep up with the vast amount of homework they were being set. Not only were they studying as though they had exams every day, but the lessons themselves had become more demanding than ever before. Harry barely understood half of what Professor McGonagall said to them these days; even Hermione had had to ask her to repeat instructions once or twice. Incredibly, and to Hermione's increasing resentment, Harry's best subject had suddenly become Potions, thanks to the Half-Blood Prince.
Non-verbal spells were now expected, not only in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but in Charms and Transfiguration too. Bree's non-verbal spells were frequently overpowered, much to the consternation of her classmates who could be found in the common room or at mealtimes purple in the face and straining as though they had overdosed on U-No-Poo when they were really struggling to make spells work without saying incantations aloud.
Outside into the greenhouses, they were dealing with more dangerous plants than ever in Herbology, but at least they were still allowed to swear loudly if the Venomous Tentacula seized them unexpectedly from behind.
Hagrid had stopped coming to mealtimes which worried Harry, Ron, and Hermione who had not had time to go talk to him. They planned to go visit him after Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts the following Saturday.
Bree didn't go to Quidditch tryouts or visit Hagrid afterwards. She was busy. You see, some uppity Slytherin first years, the little pure-blood brats that they were, had made the mistake of calling Bree a mud-blood.
Bree spent the day throwing first years into the lake, not that there were that many of them, it's just that they kept climbing back out. Eventually she was stopped after Harry, Ron, and Hermione noticed the commotion after they visited Hagrid's hut.
"What are you doing!" Hermione screeched.
"Sacrificing first years in order to appease the mighty Kraken." Bree answered as she tossed a sopping wet Slytherin.
"They annoyed me and I'm hoping if I feed it enough of the little brats it will introduce to Davy Jones." She explained.
"The squid does not eat people!" Hermione shouted as she rounded up the three unfortunate Slytherins.
"It ate Captain Jack Sparrow, and anyway, started with five first years, not three." Bree stated.
A quick head count revealed that Bree had started with the same amount of first years she had ended with and no one had been eaten by the squid.
"Why do you hate the first years so much?" an exasperated Hermione asked.
"No, no, no, Hermione!" Bree exclaimed. "I love first year. They're like slinkys!"
"What do you mean?" Hermione questioned.
"Completely useless, but fun to watch fall down the stairs." Bree replied. "They're only there for my amusement." Bree was given detention.
250. First years are not "like slinkys."
257. Not allowed to throw first years into the lake in order "To appease the mighty Kraken."
- not even if they annoy me.
- the squid is not a Kraken.
- the squid can't introduce me to Davy Jones.
- the squid did not eat Captain Jack Sparrow.
383. The first years are not there for my amusement.
Bree found Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Slughorn outside of the Great Hall before dinner that evening.
"Harry, Harry, just the man I was hoping to see!" he boomed genially, twiddling the ends of his walrus mustache and puffing out his enormous belly, "I was hoping to catch you before dinner! What do you say to a spot of supper tonight in my rooms instead? We're having a little party, just a few rising stars, I've got McLaggen coming and Zabini, the charming Melinda Bobbin-I don't know whether you know her? Her family owns a large chain of apothecaries-and, of course, I hope very much that Miss Granger and Miss Smith will favor me by coming too."
Slughorn made Hermione and Bree a little bow as he finished speaking. It was as though Ron was not present; Slughorn did not so much as look at him.
"I can't come, Professor,"Bree said brightly. "I've got a detention with Professor Snape."
"Oh dear!" said Slughorn, his face falling comically. "Dear, dear, I was counting on you! Well, now, I'll just have to have a word with Severus and explain the situation. I'm sure I'll be able to persuade him to postpone your detention. Yes, I'll see you all later!"
Of course Slughorn was unable to get Snape to change his mind and Bree reported to the Snape's office sometime after dinner.
"So what's my punishment for today?" Bree asked, grinning. Snape seemed to regret not letting Bree go to Slughorn's party, but he hadn't wanted Slughorn to think that he could get special treatment.
"Go sit in the corner and stare at the wall." Snape replied. Bree frowned.
"That's boring." She complained, but she complied anyway and stared at the without blinking.
"She's not human. She can't possibly be human." Snape thought as he began to grade papers. As soon as he wasn't looking Bree blinked.
