When not cleaning up a mess some other witch or wizard created, Dennis spent his free time trying to concoct a spell, or rather several spells. He visited the libraries at Hogwarts and the Ministry to refine his efforts and find the needed magical components. While in his search, the wizard could hear in his mind's ear the ghosts and portraits drilling him on the essentials of spellcraft. Professor Flitwick told him on numerous occasions few people paid as close of attention to his tutors, earthly and otherwise, as Dennis did during his final two years at the school. Moreover, his mentor and Lord North often said he failed to appreciate the depths of knowledge that got imparted to him. His task ignited that appreciation to the fullest extent.
"Wow," Dennis said five days later as he stood on Whitehall Road watching the people pass back and forth.
Dennis wore a pair of sunglasses he magically augmented, and somewhat illegally by Ministry standards since it rode of the cusp of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts codes. However, no muggle, witch, or wizard would notice anything suspect about the sunglasses. One needed to wear them to understand his efforts, and they would need to know the magical phrase that activated the eyewear. Hence, Dennis stood and believed himself the only person at the moment who could accurately detect the differences between muggles and the magical.
"Nox," he said and tapped a finger on the left arm of the sunglasses.
The auras surrounding the magical people disappeared from his field of vision as seen through the sunglasses.
"Luminos videreverum," he incanted and tapped the right arm of the sunshades.
Through the lens, he could see a hazy blue glow surrounding magical people as the forces within them swirled and created an emanating field on the surface of their skin. Witches and wizards exuded magic in varying degrees of force. Moreover, Dennis could see some people possessed a nearly invisible magical sheen, and these he guessed to be either squibs or those who might unknowingly pass on magical abilities to their offspring. Then entire panorama of the diversity between everyone on a magical spectrum intrigued him. It also afforded him a view of the world he most wanted to see.
"Well, well. Isn't that interesting?" Dennis said as he spied a man and a woman holding hands as they walked down the sidewalk. One pulsed with magic. The other did not. Dennis touched the rim of sunglasses and said: "Click."
His field of vision flashed for a moment. In the upper left corner of the left lens, Dennis saw a tiny number one begin to pulse. He knew the sunglasses successfully captured a multi-layered image of the couple. The apparatus could only hold six pictures due the density of the image it created. At home, Dennis continued to try and develop a transfer device that would act as a container for his magical images. In the meantime, he giggled with delight at his inventiveness.
A leisurely stroll along Whitehall Road toward Charing Cross Station gave him more evidence that he and Cameron did nothing out of the ordinary. Dennis needed to delete his first few pictures as he found better examples. After an hour and a half of spying on people, and Dennis knew he spied on people, he went to the Ministry. He talked to Imelda for a few moments before heading to his favorite spot in the library where only the librarians knew he secreted himself. Dennis brought along the special photographic paper, or rather photo-quality paper made for computers, he magically augmented. An hour of intense work resulted in six small stacks. Each stack contained three images: one that looked like a regular photograph with exceptional clarity, a second that showed in striking detail the magical aura surrounding one of the people, and a third that combined the effects of both. Dennis gazed at his handiwork. It created a strangely guilty feeling in him.
"Well, Cam, you were right," he quietly said to the photos. "Now, let's find out who these people are. Cognosco persona!"
As Dennis uttered the spell while holding the tip of his wand to the picture, he also concentrated on the effect he wished to produce. Within seconds, small words appeared and hovered over the people in the images. It identified every person, and the rectangle of paper became crowded with names. He frowned. The pulled out his Latin dictionary. He began to flip through the pages looking for the right word to limit the effect. While searching for one word, he found another that would come in handy. Then Dennis spent a minute scribbling down various formations of the words to refine his spell. One in particular looked promising. He touched his wand tip to the male, non-magical person in the picture.
"Permanens cognosingularitatem," Dennis carefully pronounced the words as he concentrated.
The spell took a few seconds longer to complete, but then the name of the man appeared in the middle of his chest and permanently etched onto the picture. Dennis did the same with the witch. After the successful test, he noted the results in his spell journal. Professor Flitwick and just about every other instructor at Hogwarts long encouraged their students to keep notes on the methods they used to adjust spells in case it needed to be reversed. The results Dennis witnessed of student spells gone awry, as well as his work with Mr. Odpadki, convinced him of the necessity of keeping a log of his experiments. Since his second year he noted every bit of tinkering he did. Thus, permanens cognosingularitatem got added to his collection.
"Nice," he whispered as he examined the name embossed on the witch. Later, he would see if he could find her entry in the census records housed in York Library Annex.
Five days of experimenting and planning resulted in about four hours of very productive results. Dennis hoped he would initially recognize at least one of the names, but he did not know any of the people. He carefully packed away the picture sets. His mind bubbled with ways he could preserve the image data stored in the glasses. Dennis read about various muggle means to digitally store photographs, and he hoped to be able to replicate at one method. Although he lived a good portion of his life in a muggle environment, Dennis realized his fascination with magic blinded him to a number of muggle technological advancements that easily rivaled magic. It deepened his connection to both worlds.
Spring arrived in the very particular English fashion: cold and damp in a way that wormed into one's bones. Rain greeted each day like gnats at a picnic by the riverside, and the temperatures did not herald any real change in the seasons. The skies over England maintained a dull, lead color. The occasional spots of sunshine mocked the people longing for a bit of warmth and reason to spend time outside. English winters meant English temperaments neared the breaking point by the time spring arrived. Everyone acted oddly surly while still maintaining British politeness and reserve. It felt fake and forced to Dennis as he spent several days in various parts of London and the surrounding suburbs collecting as many of his unique photos as he could manage. The drizzly, wet weather did not impede him on the day he went to Hogwarts to reveal the bounty of his endeavors.
"All of these are magical-muggle couples?" Professor Flitwick asked in open amazement as he studied the thirty sets of pictures Dennis collected. It displayed a wide array of witches and wizards of varying ages. "And you're certain these halos are magic force?"
Dennis spent the next ten minutes explaining all the spells he concocted and the application to the sunglasses. He even allowed his friend to try the device, although it would only show people with strong magical fields surrounding them since they remained in the school.
"This is brilliant, Dennis. Pure genius. So simple and yet so meticulous. You've outdone yourself with this one, my boy," the tiny man said while examining spectacles and the photographs it produced. "You've gone a long way to prove selective enforcement on the part of the Ministry. This one of the couple kissing at the entrance to the Ministry is proof enough!"
"Yeah, that one is worth a stack of galleons," Dennis replied and basked in the praise of his former professor. Then he grew serious as he asked: "Now, how do we present this in my case?"
"I think we just present it. There's a name on this one that will raise the eyebrows of the entire Wizengamot."
"Which one?"
Dennis huddled in closer to Professor Flitwick as the man pointed to a witch Dennis photographed on his third day gathering evidence. She did not look familiar, and he did not recognize the name. Despite his intentions and plans, Dennis never made the trip to the magical library at the York Annex. He glanced at his mentor who wore a thick jumper that appeared somewhat comical on the small frame.
"That is Cassandra Clavis, daughter of Rafferty Clavis, deputy head of the Portkey Office. I believe she works at St. Mungo's. Even if that man does not know she is a witch, this is very important," the professor stated in an aggrieved tone. "Now, the one of the couple at the employee entrance to the Ministry is clearly telling. This is good work, Dennis, and I think you are making an exceptional case for yourself. Add this to your arguments about muggle parents of magical children, and I think you are well on your way to protecting Cameron."
Dennis sagged and sighed, and he also wanted to weep from the relief that coursed through him. Professor Flitwick gently squeezed his forearm in support. They nodded in unison.
"It does not guarantee success, Dennis, but it puts the Ministry in a difficult position of why it enforces the law with you and not with others. There will be a ripple effect from your evidence, and some people are not going to be happy," the professor said and dampened the mood. The man continued to stare at the magical photographs. "You best make a second or even third set of these glasses, and put one set in your vault."
"Professor?" Dennis asked the question with the name, although he felt as though he already knew the answer.
"They're probably going to ask for the sunglasses so they can test them and authenticate your photographs. You'll never get them back. The Ministry also might look on this is a misuse of muggle artifacts, so just mention The Morpheus Spectacles and that should shut them up."
Dennis eyed the man. They stood in the sitting room of his small apartment suite hunched over the serving table crowded with the younger wizard's photographs and sunglasses. A coal fire glowed in the fireplace and helped dispel the springtime damp. The artifacts of the man's life, both as an educator and whatever he did during the summer break, gleamed in the light of a dozen candles strategically placed around the room to minimize shadows without becoming glaring. It made for the cozy, welcoming space Dennis always knew.
"Glasses that allow you to see what someone else is dreaming. They've been around for about two hundred years or so. The originals are in a museum somewhere, and you can buy a set for yourself in any number magical shops," Professor Flitwick explained.
The tiny man offered another example of why Dennis correctly chose to Professor Flitwick as his counselor in this case.
"And don't forget to remind them you used these in a public space where no one has a right to expect privacy. The Ministry of Magic is having a devil of a time with all the muggle security cameras that are popping up all over the place. And that's a lesson for you as well, my young friend: watch what you do in public spaces. Nothing is private anymore."
"Yes, sir," Dennis replied as if once again accepting instruction as a student. "Think it might be a good idea if I put a timer spell on them, so they deactivate if I don't use them after, maybe, five minutes?"
"You are a clever one, Dennis, and that would be a fantastic addition," Professor Flitwick agreed. "That would show the Ministry you're mindful about what would happen if a muggle accidentally picked them up. Even if they could figure out the magic words, and you made sure that's not an easy task, they don't have the power to turn them on. A timer spell would make a very neat and needed element."
Without waiting for further instruction, Dennis turned and went to his backpack. He fished out his notebook and one of his favorite pens. Then he sat in a chair, flipped open the notebook to the next blank sheet, and began to scribble down the idea. Dennis understood the new spell would need to ride over all the others and do so in a way that would not interfere with the operation of any of them, except to halt them when the time elapsed. Secondly, it would able to tap into the time stream and perform a countdown; however, he mastered that long ago with his time display charm. Third, the charm would need to invoke a fairly innocuous spell on its own, and that would take some doing. Spells typically did not behave when one activated by another. The notes began to fill the page as Dennis worked out the logistics. After ten minutes, he noticed it became very quiet in the room. He glanced around and saw his friend watching if not outright studying him.
"Marvelous concentration," Professor Flitwick said in an approving manner. "How come you never displayed this level of attention in class?"
"I, ah…," Dennis began and thought fast. "I suppose it's because this is a real world application and almost everything we did in classes was more or less theoretical. Ever try figuring out a spell while you're getting attacked by an angry pile of gloop?"
"Actually, yes. Remember that mess Fred and George Weasley left when they made their grand exit from Hogwarts?"
The younger man began to snicker as he recalled the flat-out rebellion the Weasley brothers enacted when they reached their limit regarding Dolores Umbridge. The swamp spell they used in one of the halls so greatly impressed Professor Flitwick he let it stand for over a month. By the time he did dispel it, the sludge began to make lunges at students. As he thought of the incident, he also remembered Fred Weasley died in The Battle of Hogwarts, and it linked Dennis to the Weasley family.
"Ever think of going and talking to George Weasley?" The man suggested when a few silent but tense seconds passed.
"I don't think I want to go to see someone just to bring up bad memories," Dennis countered.
Professor Flitwick stood back from the table and gazed at him with naked incredulity. Dennis felt as though he erred in some manner, yet could not place his faux pas. A niggling sense of guilt began to build as the moments passed.
"Who could empathize… sympathize more with what George went through than you? You and Colin were as close as brothers as Fred and George. I've thought to mention this to you before, but the timing never seemed right. Now… you seem ready to confront how it impacted your life. I think you and George could learn a lot from one another."
His mentor spoke with such absolute authority Dennis instantly began to consider the idea. He heard the stories of how George came apart at the seams when he discovered his twin got killed in the battle. Dennis, himself, never got the chance to meltdown over Colin's death in one swift act. Instead, it seeped out of him over the years, and his parents also maintained a stoic front even though he knew they got devastated by the event. For three years the refusal of the Creevey family to properly deal with the death poisoned them. Only within the past half-year did they begin to reconcile with the past.
"Just something to think about, Dennis," Professor Flitwick quietly said.
"Right," he answered.
"In the meantime, let's consider this timer solution for your Aural Picto-Glasses. You may not believe this, but I have a bit of dab hand when it comes to charms."
Dennis frowned and huffed before he said: "I've been trying to come up with a name for them for a week, and then you go and do it in half an hour!"
"Dennis, I'm sorry…"
"Just fooling with you, Professor. That's a good name, and I'm stealing it!"
The tiny man regarded him with narrowed eyes for several seconds before his face broke into a grin. Then Dennis got to witness Professor Flitwick in his element. He never got to see the man dissect a charm, recombine it in a new way, and then test it during his school days. Although Dennis felt proud of his achievement with the sunglasses, he realized the professor could solve all the operational issues in an afternoon instead of five days. Flitwick commanded his art and practice in a fashion Dennis could only hope to replicate one day. By the time he left Professor Flitwick's apartments to visit Peeves, he felt like a schoolboy just learning about magic. The experience left him awed and with a new sense of dedication to the craft.
"More coffee, love?" Pemba the coffee runner asked him the next evening as he sat in The Potion Room trying to puzzle out how best to present the revelatory photographs at the Wizengamot.
"Yeah, thanks," he accepted and glanced up at the thirty-ish woman who appeared to be half-African and half-Indian. "Think I can get a fish sandwich with some of that tangy sauce on it?"
"Been watching the time?" She inquired.
"No. I just sort of got a feel for it now when I'm here."
"The mark of a regular. I'll have that sandwich up in a few minutes."
Dennis smiled at her, and received a warm one in return. The Potion Room remained one of his favorite haunts despite the fact the man in the yellow bowler knew he frequented it. They did treat him like a regular because he followed the unspoken rules about ordering food during extended stays, never grumbling about the refill fee after his third cup, and always leaving a generous amount of change even though no one required it. He received excellent service as a result, and they let him study in peace for absurdly long periods of time.
"What'cha working on now, Dennis?" Pemba asked eight minutes later when she returned with the fish sandwich.
"My violation case. Trying to show they don't enforce the law evenly. I mean, I never gave away I was wizard. Cam figured it out on his own. Sneaky bastard," Dennis told her with a rueful smirk backing up his words.
"Oh, fancy a muggle do you?"
Dennis presented an exasperated face while rolling his eyes. Pemba snickered and seemed to take meaning from the gesture. He also appreciated the fact the woman appeared to understand he referenced a romantic relationship and did not balk at it. Instead, Pemba focused on the most pressing point of Cameron's status as a non-magical person.
"Yeah," Dennis replied in a faux sheepish fashion. "He's so handsome, and he's so nice to me. Didn't even get chuffed when he figured out I'm a wizard."
"He figured it out? Sure you didn't drop a hint?" Pemba challenged.
"No, I swear I didn't. I was so careful. Never carried my wand with me when we went out. Never did anything in front of his friends that might give it away. Didn't talk about anything magical… ever!"
Around them patrons sat sipping coffee or tea. Because of The Potion Room and their constant efforts to get customers to sample the coffee, Dennis learned to enjoy the beverage. After adding milk and sugar, it almost seemed like a desert drink and delivered a caffeine kick almost as potent as Gam Mergin's breakfast tea. However, Dennis still preferred a cup of tea in the afternoon along with a nice biscuit.
"Then, how'd he find you out?" His waitress pressed.
"Followed me one night when I headed for the train station. He was worried it was too cold or I might get jumped. I didn't know he was following. I ducked into an alley to disapparate, and Cam saw it. Then, he kept on following me after that and saw me do it a couple of more times before he finally asked me about it. You can imagine it sort of freaked him out," he explained in brief.
"But it doesn't sound like it scared him off?"
"No, it didn't. We sat in his flat and talked about it a whole night. I can't say exactly what I was thinking when he asked me to show him something, and I did. The aurors arrived about two minutes later."
Pemba stood shaking her head before she said: "Love makes fools of us all. Did they obliviate him?"
"No, it's a bit more complicated than that," Dennis stated. "See, I know all his friends and we've hung out a lot every time I go to Nottingham…"
"Nottingham? Well, there was your first mistake!"
"Ha, ha."
Pemba chuckled at him. No one paid them any mind, and no one called for a refill on their coffee of tea. Thus, she got to spend a few minutes talking to him. Dennis used a moment to take a bite of his sandwich before it completely cooled.
"So, what are all these snaps? And how come they're all stationary?" Pemba asked while he chewed.
"Look at the picture under the top one," Dennis instructed her around half-masticated white fish, breaded and fried, sitting between two halves of Kaiser roll, and smeared with an herb-infused, tangy sauce.
Pemba did as ordered, and she looked completely confused by the shot of the aura surrounding one person in particular.
"Those are magi-muggle couples, Pemba," he told her. "That's the aura of a wizard. See the woman? Nothing around her. Muggle. There's loads of couples like that all over London."
"How'd you get these pictures?" Pemba naturally inquired.
"Little gizmo I whipped up."
"Trade secret?"
"Something like that," he confirmed.
"This is really wicked, Dennis," the waitress said as she bent her head and scanned the photograph. "There are at least three other magi in this snap."
"Just in the background. Wasn't focusing on them."
Pemba suddenly appeared concerned, and Dennis though he could read her mind.
"No, I'm not running around spying on everyone. I only used it in public places and for a specific reason," he said and hoped he answered her unasked questions. "I needed to find a way to prove me and Cameron are being singled out. I'm going to asked the Wizengamot if these people are being investigated."
"Doesn't sound like you like the Ministry much," she correctly guessed.
"I know a bunch of people that work there. Most of them are complete gits or shits. A few I like pretty well, but… I can never figure out who the Ministry is for. They don't seem to care a lot about people like you and me. Does it seem like it to you?
Pemba stood and regard him with her dark eyes as she swirled the coffee around in the pot. Dennis knew they put heating charms on the decanters to keep either the coffee or water piping hot. He waited to hear her response.
"Not really," Pemba agreed. "It's always about what we can't do instead of what we can do. I've heard about people winding up in the dock for the stupidest things. Got even worse since the Twin Towers attack and the bombings. It's almost like He-Who…"
"Voldemort. Say his name and don't be afraid of it," Dennis interjected. "He's dead Pemba. I know the people who killed him, and they got rid of him for us. We can't go creeping around afraid he's going to pop out of some shadow. Saying his name will make you less scared of it."
Dennis heard both Harry and Hermione say the same thing to the students at Hogwarts in the prelude to the battle. Colin immediately took to that piece of advice, and Dennis followed suit. He did find the more he said Voldemort's name the less frightening the name became. Only after the Battle of Hogwarts and his time spent as a pariah did he realize the entire magical world institutionalized fear about The Dark Lord. The young wizard grew disgusted and tired of the fear.
"I mean, look, you're not afraid to say Cheney are you?" He asked the woman.
Pemba threw her head back and let out with a loud guffaw. Over the past several months, Dennis heard rumors and speculation the current vice-president of the United States might actually be a dark wizard. No one provided any solid evidence, although The Quibbler once ran a small article toying with the notion. It became something of a running joke in the magical world.
"Alright, you got me with that one, Dennis," Pemba cackled as she spoke. "Okay, eat your sandwich and keep going with this. But I really want you to come back and tell me how it goes at the Ministry."
"The hearing isn't for another two weeks… week and half, but I'll definitely let you know what happens," Dennis promised.
Before leaving the table, the woman topped off his cup of coffee. Dennis then settled back in his chair and resumed his struggle with trying to describe what the pictures he captured actually presented. He also needed to take a break from creating the timing charm for the Aural Picto-Glasses. It proved trickier than he imagined, and both he and Professor Flitwick got thwarted the day before. However, he could feel the back of his brain continue to wrestle with the issue.
Several hours later, Dennis stood, carefully stuffed everything into his backpack, and slipped into his coat. He created a draft version of what he would say to the Wizengamot regarding how he felt the laws got selectively and unevenly applied. The approach allowed him to incorporate his photographic evidence, and he made a note about going to the Ministry of Magic Library Annex Catacombs in York at Holgate Park to complete his research. As he wrote and re-wrote his evidentiary statement, Dennis began to understand Professor Flitwick's very cautious optimism. The response by the Wizengamot could not be predicted. The assembly could very well dismiss his efforts and proceed according to their own plans. The assumption the Ministry acted for other purposes than to uphold magical law grew weightier by the day.
Dennis waved farewell to Pemba and the other staff of The Potion Room. He left two shining galleons sitting at his table. While not entirely socially acceptable since tipping more or less went the way of the coelahippocampus, of which Dennis only ever saw a fossilized skeleton at Hogwarts, he wanted to make his thanks known for their generosity and hospitality. Conversely, the young wizard tended to abide by the no-apparating rule the coffee shop imposed. People popping in and out of cafe tended to jolt the other patrons with the spilling of much coffee and tea. Dennis heard the staff complain about the need to constantly clean the floors and repair broken cups. Thus, he stepped outside into the overly moist atmosphere and aimed for the side alley that generally got used for apparating and disapparating.
When he turned the corner, something powerful latched onto Dennis' neck.
"Time for a…" a familiar low growl started to say.
Dennis, as trained by Peeves and several ghosts and paintings, instantly reacted. He and his attacker twisted into the nether. While he aimed for the Ministry of Magic, Dennis felt the other person wrestle for control over the apparation process. They landed in a street far afield from London. Without thinking, Dennis disapparated again, but not before a hand latched onto his foot. This time he maintained iron control over the spell, and they bounced into the Nottingham Apparation Station. He immediately started kicking his legs as he and the other person struggled to right themselves. The man in the yellow bowler, now sans bowler, glared at him.
"Listen, you little punk…" the man snapped at him.
"Get bent," Dennis roared back, and he invoked the disapparation spell for a third time.
Once again he failed to escape the man. This time Dennis let his panic dictate the course of action. He immediately began to extend his power to and slightly beyond the breaking point. A groan got ripped from his lips as he, and his assailant, spun and wormed their way through space between space. It seemed a likely bet he would splinch both of them as a result. However, Dennis remained focused on one destination. His mind became consumed with his goal as he poured every mote of magic in his body into the spell. For six terrifying seconds they tumbled through magical non-place.
Dennis started vomiting the moment they landed on the ground before the iron and stone gate. The coffee, fish sandwich, and second bag of crisps got violently expelled from his stomach. He puked hard enough that it caused drops of vomit to spray back onto his face. The translocation sickness proved so severe he almost missed the sound of another person retching with considerable energy. Even though bile drained from his mouth, Dennis made every effort to scramble on his hands and knees toward the gate. He reached into his jacket for his wand.
"No… egh," the man said and regurgitated at the same instant.
A hand grabbed his left ankle, and Dennis weakly kicked at it. As the initiator of the disapparation, the sickness hit him the hardest. Hence, the slighter, younger man could not adequately fight off his attacker. The man without the yellow bowler maintained a lethal grip on his leg. Dennis kicked at him, but he lacked sufficient strength to make any significant impact. Seconds later, the weight of the man settled on his legs. Then a hand circled around his neck.
"Try that… urp… that again, and I… I… oh, Caractacus… don't dis… apparate again," the man haltingly instruction him in apparent physical distress. "I'll sn… sn… sn… snap your n… neck."
"Fuck… of… off," Dennis managed to respond, but he knew himself to be spent for the next several minutes. His body felt drained and paper thin.
"Where'd you pu… put us?"
Dennis did not answer, largely due to the fact he felt another wave of vomiting building in his stomach. The raw fear invading his body coupled with the translocation sickness did not lend any stability to his system. Instead, he narrowed his eyes. Unfortunately for him, the man lacking his usual headpiece glanced about and began to focus on the large object behind them.
"Fricken thestrals, what is this place?" The man asked and complained at the same time.
Dennis stayed silent. The hand clasping his throat formed the most immediate threat. He did not doubt for one second the man might actually break his neck. Once his attacker seemed assured of Dennis would not cooperate, he reached into inner pocket of his jacket. A small gray vial with a flip-top stopper appeared. A meaty thumb flicked it opened.
"Told you we'd do this the hard way."
The statement came out angry. He squeezed Dennis' neck, and that caused him to gasp for air. A slick liquid got dribbled into his mouth where the potently bitter taste redoubled the incapacitated wizard's desire to barf. However, a slightly disorienting and dreamy mood began to germinate in his mind. Dennis found it growing increasingly difficult to focus on any one given aspect of his current distress. The dark outline of the man against the night sky grew a bit fuzzy along the edges. Dennis stopped struggling.
"Right. You'll be talkative now. First, where are we?" The man bluntly inquired.
"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Dennis burped out the name even though he did not truly wish to do so.
"Why here?"
"I've got friends here."
"Fat lot of good that'll do you since we're outside the gates," the man chortled. "And what sort of friends would you have here anyway?"
"A couple of my old professors. Most of the ghosts. A pretty good number of the paintings, too," Dennis confided in the man. It began to dawn on him he could not stop from answering.
In the quiet of the drizzly night that surrounded the outer grounds, mostly an extension of the forest found on the inner grounds within the gate wall, little could be heard or seen. Dennis knew no one from the castle would be anywhere near the entrance road unless Hagrid decided to go for a late stroll. Despite his best efforts, Dennis realized he put himself into even greater danger in a place that should be safe.
"Professors? Ghosts? Why the hell would you be wanting to cavort with them?" His now seeming nemesis questioned.
"They're my friends," Dennis truthfully answered as compelled by the Veritas Serum the man obviously dumped into his mouth.
"Friends with ghosts? Lot of 'em in there?"
Dennis nodded. The man missing his yellow bowler, but still dressed in mismatched pants and jacket, appeared to enjoy tormenting him. It seemed wholly unnecessary given it added nothing to what the man seemingly wanted.
"Right, then. Who's your favorite spook?" Inquired the man who appeared to take pleasure from the moment and the fact they both knew Dennis would reveal all.
"Peeves the Poltergeist," answered the subjugated young wizard.
"Poltergeist? Why'd you want to go 'round making friends with one of them? They're trouble no matter how you look 'em."
Lying on his back with the weight of the man pressing him further in the wet earth, one knee pinning his right arm, a strong hand clamped about his neck, and the full affect of the truth potion coursing through him, Dennis still managed to take umbrage at the man's statements. Just the evening before he and Peeves enjoyed a long conversation that devolved into a series of horrible insults and the poltergeist throwing a mock fit. In short, the same manner in which they spent half their friendship.
"He taught me a lot," Dennis responded to one real question.
"Taught you? How the hell would you get a poltergeist to teach you anything?" His captive questioned.
Dennis opened his mouth, but only a gurgling sound emerged. Deep in his brain the Unbreakable Vow sprang to life. It literally fought against the Veritas Serum, and Dennis' mind turned into a riot of conflict. He could even feel his eyes bulging as two diametrically opposed pieces of magic sought to make him compliant. After half a minute, the gurgle turned into a hiss. Part of him began to burn to tell the man the truth. However, the Vow stilled his tongue lest it unleash the repercussive component. Dennis did not want to suffer that fate for a solid year. Hence, he began to mentally join into the fight. The serum began to extract it's due. Dennis let out a scream.
"What in blazes…" the man barked in surprise.
"He… I know…" Dennis felt the words being forced from his mind to his mouth. "No. NO!"
He screamed again as the twin forces turned his body and brain into a battleground. Dennis began to writhe under the weight of the man, but he could not throw him off. The ill effects of the dual spells trying to wrest control over him felt like something tried to saw his brain in half. The shriek that issued from his mouth and split the silence of the night spoke for his agony. The young wizard latched onto the power of the vow he made with the poltergeist. He would not betray his friend. The cry that got wrenched from him spoke of the mental torment.
"Shut up!" The man yelled at him. "You're going to wake the whole damn building. I'll crush your fucking throat if you don't!"
Visceral fear got added to the effects of the Unbreakable Vow and the Veritas Serum. Dennis' body began to contort in reaction. He final cry of pain evaporated into a long hiss as it started to become to much for him. Strong hand tightened around his throat and meant to silence him for good. His vision began to recede as the tumult of ever-increasing hurt assailed him. Dennis simply wished one or other would just get it over with and kill him.
A keening rose in the air. It changed into horrific screech that lanced through the night. Dennis heard it, but could only react to pain in his body. The man looked nervously about them. An unearthly scream grew louder as it seemed to approach their location. Dennis listened and watched as his vision became nothing but a small tunnel through which he could see. The air around him grew densely cold as the shriek covered he and the man.
The weight of the man disappeared from his body. Moreover, Dennis felt the demand of the last question asked begin to diminish. Around him he heard thrashing and the cries of horrified person. He seemed to beg and plead. The screech answered louder than ever. With his breathing restored, Dennis pushed himself upright onto his elbows. His eyesight returned only to make him think it a bad idea. A new fear replaced the old. The young wizard could not make sense of the situation.
A dark shadow, darker than than night or any blackness Dennis could remember, assumed a ragged shape roughly that of a person. Arm-like appendages extended into scythes that slashed and tore at the man who usually wore a yellow bowler. Flecks of blood and perhaps bits of flesh flew from where the creature struck him. It howled as though to raise dead from hell itself while it attacked. Slowly but surely the man grew increasingly disfigured as cuts and gouges appeared on any exposed skin and the clothing on his body got hacked to ribbons.
"THOU SHALL NOT SLAY THE SNOT!" It yelled at such a high volume it made Dennis' ear ache. "VILE VILLAIN!"
The voice did not sound remotely familiar to Dennis, but he the words resounded in his mind. One word in particular resonated, and it lent strength to the Unbreakable Vow. The power of the Veritas Serum began to diminish. Despite the pain it caused, Dennis struggled to sit upright. The creature continued its violent assault against the man who now lay on the ground attempting, and rather failing, to protect his head and neck. Gore sailed through the air each time the benighted figure attacked.
"Peeves!" Dennis hollered as he stood. "PEEVES!"
Peeves the Demon whirled about and faced the young wizard. He pulsed and undulated like the blackest sackcloth ever made to swaddle a corpse. His figure turned into a grotesque distortion of his once human form. The ghost appeared all jagged rips and spikes, his body made almost unrecognizable by fury. Eyes blacker than the rest of him gazed like bottomless voids looking up from the deepest depths of the world. Very little of the Peeves Dennis understood remained, and yet he felt not a single iota of threat from the terrifying visage.
"I would die before I revealed your secret," he said to the fully enraged specter.
"He transgressed against thee in the worst of all possible manners, Creevey!" Peeves hissed like a thousand vipers gone simultaneously mad. "He would cause thee to break thy vow. He cannot be allowed this. He must pay with his blood and life!"
Peeves, in a form Dennis never before witnessed, spun about.
"You're not a killer, Peeves. Don't! Not for me. Not for anyone," Dennis plainly entreated his friend. "Remember what it did to Tom Riddle."
Peeves halted.
"You're better than Voldemort… and so much better than this man."
"Why would the Snot protect this one?"
"It's not him I'm protecting: it's you. If you kill him, they'll exorcise you from the castle," Dennis spoke what he believed to be the absolute truth. "I don't want to lose my friend."
Gradually, as if the moon crept out from a storm of unimaginable potency, Peeves' form began to change. The jagged lines started to resolve into a more human appearance. The blackness of his shadow stain receded and the dim color of his regular clothing and skin also began to emerge. It took a two minutes, by which time Dennis heard shouting along the road closer to the castle, and the Peeves he always knew resumed his normal countenance. The man lay on the ground at his poltergeist's feet hovering a foot above, babbling incoherently into the air.
"Weavy Creevey," the now returned poltergeist said and spun about in the air. A greasy, mischievous smile plastered on his lips. "Thou dost fancy me!"
"Yeah, Peeves, I do," Dennis said and tried to smile.
"Prat."
Dennis felt a rush of emotions explode in his gut. Tears leaked from his eyes as he saw that yet again an unlikely friendship with a meddlesome poltergeist saved his life. This time, Peeves saved him in very real physical terms. Dennis began to cry and laugh at one and the same time. The ghost floated toward him.
"You were in unfeigned peril, Dennis," Peeves warned him in a whisper. "Wouldst thou truly seek your end rather than to reveal what you knowest of me?"
"I can't trade your life for mine," Dennis replied, encouraged by the lingering effects of the Veritas Serum.
Peeves bowed to him. Try as he might, Dennis could not recall ever seeing the poltergeist perform the act in such a solemn manner. He once bowed to the Weasley twins as they tore through the castle while departing it, but that seemed more of a professional acknowledgment between pranksters. The bow Peeves gave Dennis appeared humble. The vow in his brain calmed and started to render itself into quiescence. Behind him voices began to shout a myriad of questions and the air glowed from the light of dozen wand tips.
"I will never betrayed your trust in me," Dennis said without any fanfare. The words came out as a statement of fact.
"'Tis the Snot, Creevey, and some cretin who did seek to do him injury," Peeves yelled, but his eyes remained locked with those of his mortal friend. "He needed… aid."
Dennis turned. A flock of teachers, including the headmistress and Professor Flitwick, all stood aiming their wands at him. The young man stooped and retrieved his wand where it fell from his hand when he and the man landed in front of the gates.
"Luminos," he said.
The light showed on his face. Then he turned and aimed his wand at the man who did not move. Dennis began to fear Peeves actually killed him in his rage when the light revealed an inert body. He twisted his head around.
"This man attacked me in London, then I disapparated around trying to shake him. We landed here. He tried to kill me… and Peeves saved my life," Dennis reported the barest facts available to him.
The gates made a clanking sound after one of the people on the other end performed an unlocking spell. The extremely tall gates swung outward, and the small group of school faculty streamed outward. Flitwick and McGonagall went to side. Professors Hooch, Synestra, and Goudy trained their wands on the man lying on the ground. The rest spaced themselves about in a protective circle. Peeves clapped his hands as though enjoying the best fun in the world.
"Dennis?" Professor Flitwick inquired.
"Mister Creevey?" Headmistress McGonagall said both in concern and consternation.
"It was instinct, Headmistress, to come here," Dennis explained.
"Even though you can't apparate beyond the shield charm?" She reminded and appeared to question his judgment.
"Pah! Crone! Feeble-minded! Hast thou forgot so soon the dictates of Dumbledore?" Peeves snapped at McGonagall, and the very elderly witch focused her attention to him. "Would you deny him help?"
The question cut through the air like a knife. For a tiny faction of a second Dennis thought he saw shame on the woman's face. In his mind, Dennis heard the late Professor Dumbledore, predecessor as head of the famed school, tell the students they would always find help at Hogwarts. The barb clearly struck its target.
"And what are doing outside of the school? I thought you never left the castle?" The headmistress attempted to redirect the conversation.
"I go to where those who hold my favor are in distress. That cur did intend to end the life of the Creevey, and, while thou may care not in the least, it called me to act," the poltergeist stated in such a haughty manner the tone nearly obliterated his explanation.
"Well, good on you, I suppose. You made a right mess of that man."
"And wouldst thou coddle and succor a man given to murdering one of our own?"
Around them the other professors held their breaths as the headmistress and poltergeist dueled with words. Peeves' aim proved true. Headmistress McGonagall looked away from him. The poltergeist began to chortle as he turned lengthwise into the air until his feet pointed toward the heavens. Then, as though transformed into a top, he began to spin at a great speed. An invisible wind carried him upward, and the spirit began to arc in the sky until he aimed for the school castle. His grating laugh accompanied him the entire way.
Headmistress McGonagall cast a wary eye on him.
"Peeves did save my life," Dennis told her a second time.
Professor Flitwick let out with a cough that suspiciously sounded like a laugh.