Chapter 7
Harry
A muggle flat in Islington, next to the Arsenal Stadium. A small one-bedroom, furnished. An odd item in the Potter Estate, temporarily between tenants. Muffled traffic noise, a faint chemical smell from professional cleaning, safe to apparate in and out. No trace of ambient magic, which was the whole point of using it.
Andromeda is sitting on a large leather chair, face and body loose, a bit of drool hanging from the corner of her mouth, vacant stare. Under the influence of a special calming potion, one that I've brewed under careful supervision by Anais.
Anais downs her own little flask with a grimace and shakes her head. "Are you ready, Harry?"
I laugh a bit, nerves tight with anxiety. "No..."
She sets her hand on my left arm, and I feel her presence sliding into my awareness. "Uh... Hello?"
A feeling of amusement comes through the new link. "It's working fine, Harry. Go ahead."
A brief motion of my wand, pointing vaguely in Andromeda's direction. "Here it goes." 'Legillimens'.
I feel Andromeda's mind defenses, strangeness with a familiar tinge. It examines me, and, with a shrug of sorts, lets me and my companion in. "We're in."
"What do you see, Harry?"
It feels like a mind. Body perception, arms, legs, long hair. The unfamiliar sensation of breasts and woman parts. A clean smell that I later recognize as my own. Faint noises. The feel of a foreign presence, benign but not quite welcome. My own presence, as it turns out. Memories. A sister brushing my hair, childbirth, A dear husband making love to me, breastfeeding, the feel of my magic, pulsing strong and true. With a little effort, I separate my awareness from Andromeda's and answer. "I feel Andromeda. Perceptions. Memories..."
"Very good. Keep your awareness separate from her mind. Don't let it merge. Just let it the sensations flow around you."
I let it come. It calls to me. I realize that merging my awareness with her mind is what is usually called possession, and I feel a shiver go down my ghostly back. It would be just too easy... too easy. "Something is missing, isn't it?"
"Yes it is. Her awareness. It should be fighting our intrusion." A pause. "You have good instincts."
"Thanks. Now what?"
"Just open yourself."
A minute passes, then another. At first it is just a suggestion. Behind the memories, the snippets of perception. Right at the edge of it. I focus on it, finally giving it a name. Fear. Confusion and fear.
"She's afraid."
"Very good. Focus on the fear. Follow it. Find its source."
I move towards the fear. It's not easy. Memories, forgotten impressions of people and places... it all distracts. Maybe deliberately, a strategy for hiding. But I persist. I begin to feel another's presence. "She's here."
"Excellent. Keep going."
At first, Andromeda seems unaware, curled protectively around herself. But as I approach, she becomes aware of my presence. And violently rejects it. "No! No! Stay away! Get out!" The rejection takes the form of a wind, trying to push me away.
"She is pushing me away."
"Bring your awareness inwards. Make yourself small. Try to resist."
I try to follow Anais' instructions. The rejection seems to lose urgency, and I stay there for a bit, trying not to be noticed. Suddenly, Andromeda's defenses find me. "I. Said. Go. Away!"
The wind turns into a tornado, and I get pushed, and everything turns dark.
I wake up. The headache is an ice-pick between my eyes. I'm lying on the floor, and Anais is kneeling next to me, gentle eyes and a soft smile. I sit up. "How long?"
"Five minutes." She gets up, picks up a small potion flask and hands it to me. "For the pain."
I gulp it down with a grimace, and the pain loses a bit of its sharpness. "I'm sorry..."
She interrupts me. "No, Harry. This was real progress. It was always going to be hard."
I contemplate doing this again and I feel tired. "She is very strong."
"That's right. Right now, her strength will make this difficult. Later, it will help."
I look closely at Andromeda. In her eyes. Maybe, just maybe, I see a tiny little sparkle, quickly swallowed by blankness.
=O=O=O=O=O=O=
I tumble out of the floo, and end up face down on the floor. I lift my eyes and end up staring at a pair of elegant feet, with blood red nails, encased in a pair of white leather sandals with three-inch heels. Looking up, shapely legs disappearing into a knee-length gray wool skirt, a cream knit long-sleeve top with a pink silk echarpe around her neck, blonde hair, blue eyes and an amused smirk. Narcissa has definitely adopted a high-end muggle style, and looks bloody marvelous in it. "You should work on your entrances." The soft contralto matches well with the looks.
I get up and use my wand to clean up. "I probably should." I get up and try to stand straight. In her bare feet, Narcissa is an inch taller than me, and with her heels and my boots, she just has to lean forward to greet me with a quick kiss to the forehead. It's a motherly little gesture, which she does without thinking, and which confounds me somewhat. My thoughts tend to oscillate between weary caution and the gutter as far as she is concerned. I shake my head and try to gather my wits . "You were heading out?"
She puts on a powder blue robe over her muggle attire. "Tea with friends."
A pinch of worry. "Be careful..."
She smiles, and it reminds me she is the late Bellatrix' baby sister. "I know. There's someone out there who wants me dead." I just nod in response and her smile softens. "I'll be back in time for dinner."
"Enjoy."
"Thank you. There's a couple of letters in your desk that could use your attention. Nothing urgent." I nod. Narcissa has taken to the role of personal assistant with surprising glee. She throws a pinch of powder into the fire, mutters her destination and, in a swirl of flame, she is gone.
I find Teddy and Braddock in the playroom. Laughter, wing flapping, cawing and Winky watching over them, looking both pleased and a little exasperated. I can't help it but laugh. It's colored balls everywhere. Last week, I bought a plastic swimming pool, about six feet by four, and two feet deep. I filled it with conjured rubber foam balls in bright colors, placing enough magic in it to make them quite long-lasting. The new toy can keep both the energetic toddler and the overexcited young raven entertained for hours, at least so far. Andy is in her room, staring at a muggle magazine which is open on her lap. As I come in, she looks at me, frowning a bit. She looks like she's about to ask something, but it seems to be too much effort. She mutters to herself and her eyes fall back to the magazine. She's improved, but she is not really back.
I finally make it to my bathtub. After three weeks of hit-wizard training, my physical conditioning finally seems to be catching up a bit. Also, pushing out serious magic with a wand which is not quite a match... Still, after several hours of training, a long hot soak is just the thing. An hour later I get out of the tub and dry myself. I'm somewhat recovered from the training and, maybe, ready for a bit more. I take a few moments to examine myself in a mirror. Thin, scarred and stringy-looking. But not really scrawny anymore. Clearly built for speed, not strength. The scar in my forehead is a thin faded line. I look older than my eighteen-and-a-half years. A little grin. I look dangerous too.
I'm choosing a shirt when I feel an arrival through the floo, and I'm still putting on my trainers when someone knocks on the door a couple of minutes later.
"Come in." A smiling vision with a silvery blonde ponytail, wearing loose white pants, white trainers without socks, a spaghetti strap sky blue no-sleeve blouse with a gray exercise bra under it. I smile back,and my heart gives a little somersault. "Hi."
She saunters in and approaches my bed stand, examining the two-flower arrangement she gave me a couple of weeks ago and smiling a bit. "'ello, 'arry. 'ow was training today?"
"I'm getting there, I think. You?"
She looks up from the flowers and speaks in a dry tone. "A desperately ugly manor and nasty, nasty wards." She laughs. "Love every minute."
I shake my head. "There must be something wrong with you, Flower." She mumbles something in french. "What was that?"
"Ah, nozzing." I frown. "I am not sure about you taking liberties wizz my name, zat's all."
I grin. "You're not sure..."
She comes next to me, lights up the tip of a finger with a blue flame and pokes me in the shoulder with it. A tiny prick of pain and the impossible blue eyes staring at mine get an immediate, and wholly inappropriate reaction elsewhere. 'She's married', I must keep thinking to myself. "I will allow it. Mm?" She adds in a haughty tone. "In private."
I rub my singed shoulder and note the little hole burned into one of my favorite shirts. "Yes, mistress."
She startles a little, licks her lips with the tip of her tongue and looks a little uncertain. Before she can say anything, I try to dispel the tension with a distraction. "Conjuration?" It's an advanced NEWT topic, one in which I'm decent in practice and rather fuzzy in theory.
She takes a moment to collect herself before answering. "Zeory or practice?"
"Theory first, then a little practice."
"Very well." She moves sideways and points to the door. "Lead ze way."
We go down to the library, where I've set up my personal study hall: a couple of dark wood tables like those in Hogwarts' library and half a dozen chairs. We sit, and I open the 'Guide for Advanced Transfiguration'. Before I can begin reading, Fleur asks: "So, what are ze restrictions to Gamp's law?"
"Anything alive, or that was alive once, precious metals, and, hmm... gems."
"And magical items."
"Oh, right... sorry."
"Pof! Don't apologize. What does eet mean?" Harry looks confused. And Fleur's expression reminds me of Hermione. "All right. Can you conjure a snake?"
"Sure." I pull out my wand and whisper: "Serpensortia." A foot-long garden snake, dull green, appears on top of their notes, coiling protectively around and hissing."
"Stay back! I'll bite!"
"Don't worry, little one. You're safe." I hiss back. Fleur looks startled.
The little snake uncoils a bit, and looks at Harry. "A speaker!"
"Yes."
"Send me back, please! I don't like it here."
Harry points his wand at the snake and speaks in parseltongue. "Return." The little snake vanishes with an audible pop. Harry has known for a while that, specially near a snake, parseltongue words can be used as incantations.
"Mmm." She gives me an odd look. "Very nice."
I shake my head, a little uncomfortable. "It's nothing." I refuse to feel proud of a gift I did not work for, specially one that has mostly given me grief.
Fleur frowns, annoyed. "Eet's a magical gift, con! An unusual and wonderful one."
"Dumbledore said that Voldemort left it behind when he attacked me as a baby "
She raises her voice, and suddenly the room is hot. "Dumbledore was stupide! Failed spells don't leave magical gifts be'ind." Despite her own misgivings about her Veela magic, Fleur finds it offensive that one would think of such a marvelous magical gift as a curse residue.
I hesitates, weary about saying sharing something this dark and dangerous. Still, I trust Fleur... "What if Riddle also left behind a soul fragment?"
Fleur's eyes grow wide. "Riddle? Soul fragment?"
I spend the next half hour giving Fleur a brief account of the last few years. Fleur is deeply disturbed by the story. First by the idea of Voldemort's horcruxes, which is something any Goblin-trained curse breaker knows about and loathe. Second by the idea of leaving it up to me and my teenage friends to deal with it.
It's the second timeI have told this story. The first was to Shacklebolt and McGonagall, a week after the last battle. Telling it this time gets to me. I think I finally see clearly how profoundly stupid and nasty Dumbledore's plan really was. How it involved carefully orchestrating my life so I would be a willing human sacrifice.. From Minerva and Kingsley, mostly I got stone-faced disapproval, as if he, and not Dumbledore, had done something stupid. This time, I get anger loudly directed at Dumbledore, sadness and tears. And a shaky, somewhat wet kiss on the cheek at the end.
Fleur casts some specialized diagnostic spells at my scar. When she is satisfied, she sits back and looks thoughtful. "So?" Harry asks.
"Zhere is a faint residue of dark magic not your own. Eet is consistent wizz a dark soul fragment . Not wizz a 'orcrux, zough."
"It didn't behave like a horcrux. It didn't seem to have a will." Fleur nods. "Dumbledore thought that my parseltongue ability was coming from the soul fragment." I shrug. "But the fragment is gone, and I can still talk to snakes."
"Eet's a rare ability, and I assume zere is no record of such a zing in your paternal line, non?"
"Right."
"But your mozzer was muggleborn." Harry nods. "Eet is likely zat she descents from one or more squib lines, Zen who knows what abilities she might 'ave passed to you. Maybe ze presence of ze soul fragment might 'ave activated a latent ability, but I think zat is unlikely."
"Is there any way to know for sure?" Harry likes the idea that this 'gift' might have come from his mother, not Riddle.
"Non. Ze best inheritance rituals ze Goblins have only go back zree generations." She squeezes his shoulder. "Enjoy your gifts, 'arry."
I look into her eyes for a second, and I see the kindness, the intelligence and the brittle pride in them. "I should say the same to you."
Fleur stops, a little taken aback. His words... how would he know? She takes a moment to quiet her heart and changes subject. "We've strayed from ze subject, mm? Zat spell you used? Eet's not conjuration."
"No?" I'm confused.
"Eet is a summoning. Zat snake came from somewhere else. Watch. She casts a mumbled spell and a small snake, very similar to the earlier one, appears on the table." I looks at it, and frown. It feels different. "Talk to eet."
I hiss at the snake "Hello", but it doesn't react. I try again, without success.
Fleur smiles. "You see?"
"It's not a snake."
"Zat's right. Eet's conjured. Eet looks like a snake, moves like one, but eet isn't one. Eet will just disappear after a while. Eet carries a bit of my magic." She casts fire at it, which scorches the table a bit, but doesn't affect the little snake. She giggles. "My conjurations are always fire-proof." With a silent sweep of her wand, she banishes the snake and fixes the tabletop.
I blink, startled at the little display of magical prowess. Two simple spells at the same time, cast silent and with a single wand motion... "You're an amazing witch, Flower."
She blushes. "Zanks."
=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=
The Brass Scale is a restaurant a little ways down Diagon Alley from Gringotts. Downstairs, a modest family restaurant, affordable, with pleasant service and generous portions. Crowded and noisy most of the time. Upstairs, a tea room, with a couple dozen tables, serving traditional English breakfast from seven to ten, and high tea from three to six.
Narcissa and four other witches have been sipping, nibbling and gossiping for over an hour, With House Malfoy's fall from grace, she was banished to the fringes, but recent events, specially her return to the House of Black, has pulled her back into the thick of things. Hence her cousin's invitation to join the weekly meet. For a moment, Narcissa ignores the chatter of the other witches and searches the room, looking for their waitress. This saves her life.
Two people, wearing gray cloaks, wands in hand and faces hidden in deep hoods walk in and split, heading towards the back of the room. Every instinct in Narcissa's keen mind warns her of extreme danger. She pulls her wand out, as the two scan the room, and, upon finding her, they point their wands at her, incanting in near unisson "Avada .." Narcissa is sitting down, hemmed in by two of her companions, so she is unable to dodge. Instead, she pulls deep at her magic, conjuring a broad slab of marble and, just as the death curses hit the barrier, she grabs her cousin's arm and whispers: "sanctuary".
The portkey drops them at the ground floor of Grimmauld Place, in front of the large fireplace. As they were sitting down at the tea house, they end up sprawled on the hardwood floor. Narcissa gets up, keeping her hold on her cousin. They are not yet standing when Harry and Fleur arrive.
"Lord Black, this is my cousin, Annelise Burke, nee Rosier." A thin, brown haired witch, looking a little older than Narcissa, with sharp features and looking dazed..
"I welcome you to the House of Black, Lady Burke." The wards recognize and acknowledge the welcome. "Please excuse the rudeness." He turns to Narcissa. "What happened?"
"We were just attacked at the Brass Scale's tea room, on the second floor.. Two assassins in gray robes The assassins are probably gone, but people may be hurt." Exploding marble is mostly dust, but there may be chunks as well.
Harry gives Fleur an inquiring look and she nods. "We'll be back as soon as possible."
=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=
Fleur
It takes me a few seconds to recover from Harry's forceful side-along. By that time, Harry is already half way up the stairs to the second floor tea room. Instead of just following him, I decide to look around.
A window on the second floor is broken, with pieces of glass and wood scattered about. This won't do. A broad horizontal sweep with my wand, ending with a upwards curl, overpowering a silent reparo. It's a little large scale, andI'm surprised when it works flawlessly, wood and glass reassembling itself into an unbroken window. A couple of wizards standing across the street, are now looking at me, first a little shocked, and then dazed. That annoys me. Overpowering my magic makes me lose control over my allure for moment.
Other wizards and witches are walking by, some quick and oblivious, some a little slower and more attentive. A witch, with a large wrapped package in her hands, stops to gawk as my spell takes effect. She looks around, looking for the caster and sees me with my wand still in my hand. She smiles appreciatively, nods and keeps going.
Even at a second glance, I don't see anything suspicious. Trusting my curse-breaker instincts, whatever those are, I concentrate on a shaded little nook between two stores. It would be a natural place to observe the restaurant's door. And maybe there is a little shimmer... I cast a couple of silent stunners, low and high. A loud incantation, one stunner misses, the other hits a wobbly shield and someone wearing a gray cloak appears behind the shield . Then I cast three quick spells, a piercer, a bone breaker and another stunner. Before my spells reach the shield, a loud pop, and the lookout is gone. I approach and look at the ground. A well-worn leather boot, with a foot inside and a neatly transected piece of lower leg sticking out. I let out an evil giggle. Apparition under pressure can be tricky.
I grab the boot, cross the street and run up the stairs. The room does look like some kind of fight took place. A couple of overturned tables, broken chairs, broken china... there's about a dozen people in the tea room, standing or sitting at some of the intact tables. Someone is pouring tea, and Harry is talking to a thin, gray-haired, upset looking witch. He looks at me as I approach and smiles, a tiny lopsided one. Too cute.
I lift the boot up. "Zey 'ad a lookout, but 'e left in a 'urry." He looks inside, grins and nods in approval.
He turns back to the older witch. "The aurors should be here shortly."
"Thank you, Mr. Potter." She replies.
"You're welcome." He turns back to me. "Narcissa conjured a large slab of marble in the path of two killing curses." I nod in approval. Marble is a good blocker because it's heavy and it mostly turns to dust when you clobber it. But blocked killing curses behave like forward-facing explosions, and unless the marble slab was more than a foot thick, some fast-moving shrapnel was to be expected. "Six injured, mostly cuts and bruises. Plus a broken arm and a glancing blow to the head, which I portkeyed to St. Mungo's."
I snort. "Lucky."
He scratches his head. "Yeah, it could have been a lot worse."
Half way across the room, Maritza Fawler is glaring at me, her aristocratic features twisted into a mask of hatred. Harry follows my look and frowns. "A client," I explain.
Harry snorts. "Not a happy one."
"Non."
"She was at the table with Narcissa." Harry stares at her for a moment, and seems to go utterly still. Afterwards, he breaks his gaze and turns to me with an odd look.
Before he says anything, two people come up the stairs. A woman with gray hair in a sober-looking bob, a stern, lined face and sharp eyes and a much younger man, brown hair, tall and thin, both in auror robes. The man stands back, wand in hand, while the woman takes a slow look around. There is silence, while all eyes in the room focus on the woman. She finishes her scan and looks in our direction. "Mr. Potter, report." Her voice is a gravelly contralto, well-matched to her looks and gravitas.
Harry approaches the woman and casts a couple of privacy charms. He talks for a little while, she mostly listens, nods and asks a couple of questions, their faces and voices blurred. He drops the charm and they approach me. "Master Auror Hammer, please meet Curse-breaker Weasley."
She looks at me with a sardonic smile. "You have evidence in your possession?"
I nod and look at the boot in my hand. The splinching stasis is running out, and the foot is beginning to bleed. I hand her the boot, she casts some spells in it and puts it away, while I describe what happened downstairs. In the end, she asks two questions. "Why did you accompany Mr. Potter?"
Harry replies. "She was watching my back. I've been told not to go into potential trouble without back up."
Auror Hammer just nods. "And why do you trust Mrs. Weasley to watch your back?"
Harry glances at me and smiles. "She's my NEWT tutor. In practice duels, she wins two times out of three."
He didn't mention that, most of the time, the set rules deny him his strengths, like his stupidly powerful curses and shields. After all, the point is to learn and improve, not stroke his ego. Still, I preen a bit with his appraisal and the auror's look of respect. "Very well, you may go. Please ask Mrs. Black and Lady Burke to come by my office tomorrow at nine."
"Will do, m'am." The other auror bows slightly to Harry as we leave, and Harry nods back.
We get back to the street. Not surprisingly, there is a small gathering outside, maybe a dozen witches and wizards, who start shouting at us. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Potter...", "The slayer...", "What happened..."
Harry pushes his magic out, an old intimidation trick, harmless but rather impressive. His eyes brighten, there is a faint light around him and the magic-rich atmosphere of the Alley becomes heavy and oppressive. People step away from him. He touches his wand to his throat. "Silence!" When
they shut up, he removes the wand and continues in a normal voice. "One at a time."
"Mr. Potter, Jon Clavell for the Prophet. What happened here?"
"An assassination attempt. The matter is under investigation by the DMLE, and I'm not allowed to speak further."
"Is anyone hurt?"
"Yes. Two witches were sent to St. Mungos for treatment. Nothing life threatening, I believe."
"Who was the target?"
"Sorry. Not t liberty to say." There's a moment of silence, and Harry continues. "Address further questions to the DMLE."
Harry grabs my hand and forces his way forward. "Mr. Potter...", "Who's the blonde...", "Please, wait..." He squeezes my hand in warning and apparates.
Squeezing sensation, a little tumble, and we're back. It takes me a few seconds to settle my stomach back into place. "Ugh!"
He holds my right arm above the elbow, steadying me. "That sounds about right."
"'Arry..." I laugh a little, remembering Harry and Skeeter during the tournament. "You're much better at 'andling ze press, hm?"
Harry smiles. "An old bird from Wizengamot Services gave me a couple of hours of what she called 'media training'. Maybe it took."
"Eet looks like it."
Harry looks at me with a lopsided smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Who was the unhappy client?" He is trying to sound casual.
It takes me a moment to process the question. "Lady Maritza Fawler. Regent of Fawler 'ouse." His smile broadens. "Why?"
He seems to hesitate before answering. "Well.. Before you came, she was closed tight as a clam."
"You mean, her mind?"
"Yes. But, when you arrived, she completely lost it. It was easy to do a little snooping then. She was in on it."
"Hm." I am not comfortable with this casual use of legillimency. But the world is a harsh place, and you use what you have. "Did you get more?"
"Nothing very articulate. Hatred, fear, goblins, some kind of necklace and a tall, pale figure of a man."
"Ah."
"What is it?"
I shake my head. "Can't say."
He stares at me for a bit, then he nods and approaches. For a moment I nearly panic, thinking he might kiss me. I have no idea what I might do... He just gives me a kiss in the right cheek. Not a peck, nothing lingering... just a sweet little kiss. I feel it. Too much. "Thank you, Flower. For everything."
I answer in a whisper. "Pas besoin de remercier, mon hero."
=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=
She finds them in her manor's sitting room, one of them asleep under pain potions, cauterized stump propped on a stool, the other two sipping firewhisky and, standing next to the hallway door, a young vampire named Aziz.. She is furious. "Idiots! Can't do anything right?"
"She got very lucky, mylady. She saw us, and had her wand out, before we saw her." He shrugs. "It happens."
"Imbeciles! Weren't you supposed to have an anti-portkey ward?"
"We had."
"So?"
He points at the wounded man. "He had the wards, m'am, and he's no Merlin. She probably had one of them Dark Lord portkeys. They could break even the Auror's wards, sometimes."
"What happened to him?"
"Splinched hisself. He got spotted by some blonde bird. She tried to curse him and he left in a hurry. Couldn't go back and ask for his foot back now, could he?"
She growls, a most unladylike noise. "No Merlin. Right."
Aziz breaks his silence. His voice is gravelly, with a faint eastern european accent. "What happened after Malfoy left?"
"When the target left, I cast a bombarda to the floor to cover our retreat and portkeyed away. According to him," he points at the sleeping men, "two people apparated to the street, the blonde and a cloaked guy. The guy went up to the tearoom, the blonde stayed back, looked around and cursed him. That's all we know."
"The cloaked man was Harry Potter." She stops to check their reaction to the name. The two assassins look like they swallowed a bug, but the vampire seems to have expected it. "He came in, sent a couple of injured to St. Mungo's and started asking questions. The blonde whore came a little later.. She is veela and some kind of apprentice curse-breaker at Gringotts, if you're willing to believe that."
"And how do you know that?" Aziz asks.
"I met her when I was dealing with some family business at the Bank."
He nods, and, for a moment, there is silence. Lady Fawler goes to a side table, grabs a glass and serves herself of an amber liquid from a cut glass bottle. She sits down bonelessly at one of the empty couches and sips her drink. "Are we supposed to do it again?" One of the crew asks
The other replies. "I don't want to cross wands with Harry Potter."
"He's just a kid." Lady Fawler replies.
He sneers. "Tell that to Dolohov, m'am."
The vampire interrupts the conversation. "You'll do nothing, for now. I must go report, and I should be back tomorrow night with instructions." He turns to Lady Fawler. "Attend me." He leaves the room, and the pureblood lady follows meekly.
Hermione
Bad, bad... Harry gave an interview... an interview? Someone tried to kill Narcissa Malfoy... no. Narcissa Black. Who cares? Stupid pureblood cow. Who is she? Hufflepuff. Fifth year? She is looking at me. Why is she looking at me? I eject my wand from the holster. I'm going to hex... She walks away, fast. What? No! No! I'm getting out of here. So angry. So angry...
Maybe the Room. I can blast something. Yes! I'm blasting something. Please, get out of my way. Don't talk to me.
Finally I climb to the seventh floor, without hexing anyone or screaming. Still people stare. I ask for a destructive spell practice configuration, which is a lane, twelve feet wide and fifty deep, with a multi-ton cube of granite in the middle. I start with bludgeoners, cutters, piercers and explosions. As fast as I can. Despite the size of the target, I manage to miss a few. My wand is wobbly.
When the stone cube is reduced to gravel, the Room provides another. I continue pounding, but I'm beginning to feel the strain. Maybe my head is a little clearer. Magical exhaustion is no joke. I don't want to pass out. I sit on the floor, legs straight at an angle, like a little girl. Tears. Sobbing.
Someone is opening the door. No! I don't want to see anyone. They come in. I cast a stunner. On target, but Luna avoids it with a graceful pirouette. She yells. "Hermione Granger!" Her tone is not airy and detached, but concerned.
I look down. "Luna. I'm sorry."
"That's all right. Please don't curse me."
I grit my teeth. What does she want? "What are you doing here?"
"I'm worried about you."
"I'm fine."
She giggles. With another wave of irrepressible anger, I begin to lift my wand. "I've heard that before."
"Get out of here, Luna."
"Oh, all right." She turns towards the door. I close my eyes for a second, and she turns around and whispers: "immobulus", It's a weaker form of 'petrificus totalus', which follows the intent of the caster as to the extent of the paralisis. I find I'm paralized from the neck down. I'm so furious I start screaming. Luna casts a couple of calming and cheering charms. After I stop screaming she asks. "Are you potioned? Some version of the draught of rage?"
It takes me a while to force the words out. "I've purged. It didn't help."
"Sickness?"
"Not according to Madam Pomphrey."
"Cursed?"
"I don't know."
"Hmm..."
"I need a mind healer."
She nods. "Yes. That might help."
"I need Harry. Now."
Luna nods again and casts "Expecto Patronum." A bright, near solid hare jumps around a bit and stops in front of her. "Harry Potter, you are needed at the Room of Requirement."
"Why do you always call him 'Harry Potter', instead of just "Harry'?"
She smiles. "Two reasons."
I wait for her to continue, but she just keeps looking at me. "What reasons?"
"He likes it. He almost always smiles a little when I say his name."
"Harry is very fond of you."
"I'm very fond of him too."
"What's the other reason?"
"Hmm... He is not really very Hairy."
I snort. "He isn't. Just a little."
Luna casts a couple more calming and cheering charms while we wait. It must be half an hour later that Harry and the Headmistress come into the room. McGonagall stands near the door, arms crossed, all stern face with kind eyes. Harry hugs, first Luna and then myself, and I unwind a little, for the first time in ages. His hug is better than Luna's charms.
"So, what is it?" He asks Luna.
"Hermione needs help. A mind healer, I think."
"Why?" The Headmistress asks.
"It looks like she's been potioned. Draught of Rage, or something similar. But purging doesn't help, and Madam Pomphrey can't find anything wrong with her."
She presses her lips into a thin line. "It can't wait?"
"Yes." I reply.
"No." Luna answers at the same time. "She's a danger to herself and others."
"Give me a moment." Harry holds my face between his hands and looks into my eyes. I feel his presence as a soft, soothing touch. He retreats and steps back, clearly very upset with what he saw. He mulls it over a bit, while we look at him. He turns to McGonagall. "Luna is correct. Hermione is coming with me. I've been training in the mind arts with Healer Anais Osterle. She can probably help."
"Are you sure, Harry? I have exams, projects..."
"Yes. I'm sure."
"I will need a report on Miss Granger's condition as soon as possible. And her academic work will be postponed until she is cleared by the Healer."
I nod, relieved. "Thank you, Headmistress."
"Miss Lovegood, are you willing to serve as temporary Head Girl?"
Luna looks at her with her head tilted sideways, like she is examining a peculiar new animal. Harry and Hermione just stare, like McGonagall had grown a second head. The Headmistress looks at the three of us, frowns and just says. "Oh."
Luna snickers. "I´ll call Padma."
The old woman nods."That will be fine, Miss Lovegood."
She hugs Harry again. "I'll tell Ronald and Ginny."
^Thank you."
"Take good care of her, Harry Potter."
I see the little smile. "Of course, Moonbean." She leaves, skipping and humming.
