Soon after the commotion died down, Snape excused himself. Harry followed him out of the Great Hall, going in the opposite direction from there. To his surprise, he found the mysterious Weasley girl and another Slytherin boy waiting for him at the bottom of the North Tower.
Harry studied the girl curiously. Yes, her hair was on the fairer side, but her eyes were the exact shade of blue so many Weasleys had and her slightly upturned nose reminded him of Ginny's.
"Can you spare us a few minutes, Professor Thompson?" the boy asked. "My name's Edgar Farley, and I have a very urgent question about Divination."
Sighing in frustration, he motioned them up to the classroom. The boy was practically waggling his eyebrows, and Harry wondered if his grandfather revealed Harry's true identity to him. Unfortunately, one couldn't just go Obliviating progeny of esteemed Board Members.
It seemed, however, that Ethelred Farley had exercised at least some discretion.
"My grandfather said he'd found an expert to look into Alex's disappearance," said Edgar when the door behind them closed. "Although I didn't quite expect him to bring a Seer. No offence, Professor Thompson."
"None taken." Harry chuckled. If they wanted to think of him as a Seer, he wasn't going to disabuse them of that notion. "I assure you that I'm the best man for the job. I will need your help, though."
The pair nodded guardedly. Harry motioned them to the nearest round table.
"Never mind the smell," he said. His attempts to exorcise Trelawney's classrooms of incense hadn't been entirely successful. "Now, I want you to tell me everything you know about Alexander Rowle and his disappearance."
According to Edgar Farley, who apparently had been best friends with Rowle since their first Hogwarts Express ride, the missing teen was good at Defence, Transfiguration and Runes, enjoyed photography and had played as a Chaser in two games in their fourth year. Unfortunately, he was viciously bullied by three of their Gryffindor yearmates: Timothy Higgs, Michael Ferguson, and Calchas 'Cal' Talbott. The tension had been high since their first year, but this year Alex would return to the dorm limping every week. Edgar more than once saw bruises in the shower, although Alex refused to say anything.
"It's my fault," said Edgar dejectedly. "Alex had been withdrawn and more snappish than usual since the beginning of the term. But I just started dating Emma, and didn't pay as much attention as I should have."
The girl squeezed his hand.
"I'd never been close friends with Alex before we got together, but I know it's wildly out of character for him to just up and leave. He'd always been determined, signing up for the Defence NEWT class even though Richardson hates his guts—"
"Alex wants to be a curse-breaker, and he needs top marks for that," Edgar interjected. His expression turned ugly. "He wanted to be an Auror his first year, you know. But with Richardson being a shining example of that… Still, Alex didn't let Richardson deter him from Defence, and it would take a lot more than the usual Gryff bullying in the hallways to make him leave Hogwarts."
Emma took a big breath. "We think those morons did something to him. I don't know what, but it must be something bad. And they looked entirely too gleeful when McGonagall announced Alex's disappearance back in December."
Edgar nodded.
"If I brought a Pensieve, would you mind showing me some memories of Alexander?" Harry asked.
"A Pensieve?" Emma repeated.
"It's a device that allows you to view memories objectively. They are very rare and expensive," Edgar explained. He was obviously surprised. He then turned to Harry, "Yes, I suppose, although I've never used one."
"I'll show you how. Now wait a minute, please," Harry said, and went up to the office. It seemed like he had to use it after all.
Once there, Harry quickly cast Muffliato and called Kreacher.
"What does Master want?" the ancient elf croaked. Harry hated to be called that, but Kreacher stubbornly refused to refer to him as anything else. He supposed they reached a compromise when the house-elf stopped calling Hermione a Mudblood and Ron a Blood Traitor, though Harry heard him refer to Ron as that ginger abomination once or twice.
"Can you please bring me the Pensieve from the office?"
Thirty seconds later, the bowl stood on Trelawney's desk.
Kreacher looked around disdainfully. "Will Master be returning home for the weekend?"
"Maybe the next week, but I think I'll stay in Hogwarts for now. Thank you, Kreacher."
Kreacher sniffed and disappeared.
When Harry came back to the classroom with the Pensieve floating in front of him, the students were engaged in a furious whispering. Noticing him, they straightened up and fell silent. Emma eyed the Pensieve curiously.
"Just put your wand to your temple and concentrate on the memories you want to extract, one at a time," Harry explained.
Edgar drew a couple of silvery strands and put them into the stone basin carefully.
"Let's watch them, then," Harry leaned towards the swirling surface.
Next moment, he was standing in the corridor near the Defence classroom. The students landed next to him, looking around.
Edgar and a sandy-haired boy with brown eyes were walking towards the classroom, laughing about something. The other boy was wearing a robe that had seen better times, and a book peeking out from his bag was obviously second-hand.
"That's me and Alex. It's September, before our first Defence lesson this year," Edgar explained in a hushed whisper.
Harry nodded. "You don't need to whisper. They can't see or hear us."
A group of Gryffindors swaggered from around the corner.
Harry recognized the boys Emma had been shouting at earlier that day.
A tall redhead was conjuring paper aeroplanes and shooting them from the air. Another teen, short but stocky, was cheering him on. A third one, a dark-haired youth with jeans peaking from his robes, was trailing a bit behind.
"The show-off is Talbott, next to him is Higgs, and the one behind them is Ferguson," Emma explained.
The redhead spotted Edgar and Alex, and an ugly sneer marred his handsome features. "What are you snakes doing here? It's DEFENCE Against the Dark Arts, if you haven't learned the distinction over the last five years. You hardly need it for your N.E.W.T.s. It's not like anyone would hire you as Aurors." The boy laughed derisively.
"Too right!" the stocky boy, Higgs, chimed in.
Alexander flinched but quickly recovered. "Fuck off, Talbott."
"Or what? Will you go crying to your Daddy?" Talbott mocked. "What do you say, boys, since this junior Death Eater has already come to the class, how about we teach him a lesson?"
Higgs laughed nastily and the three Gryffindors drew their wands. Edgar and Alexander drew theirs as well. The crowd that started to gather by the classroom surged back to a safe distance, but nobody tried to interfere.
"FURUNCULUS!" Talbott shouted, but Alexander dodged and sent his own slug-vomiting hex at him, while Edgar cast Expelliarmus.
Talbott blocked both spells with a shield, and the Expelliarmus ricocheted at Higgs. The boy's wand flew from his hands and clattered to the floor between Edgar and Talbott, as the spell was evidently confused with the caster. Edgar and Higgs lunged at it and then at each other, starting a scuffle on the ground.
Both Talbott and Alexander drew their wands again, eyes intent on each other, when the third Gryffindor, who had stayed silent so far, conjured a bucket over Alexander's head. Somebody in the crowd giggled nervously. Another flick of the wand, and the bucket tipped over, showering Alexander with greenish slime.
Talbott laughed. "That was a good one, Mikey!"
The door to the Defence classroom opened, and Richardson stepped out.
"What's this foul smell?" He observed the picture before him with a scrunched nose. "Oh, should have known it's you, Rowle. Go tidy yourself, boy, and report to Filch to get a mop and a bucket. I expect this corridor to be spotless by the end of the lesson. If I see so much as a drop of slime, you'll spend next week in detention learning how to scrub the floors properly," he said with a sneer. "Now everyone else, don't dawdle, get inside. We've lost enough time already."
Edgar, sporting a split lip, looked like he wanted to protest, but Alexander just shook his head and motioned him to go. The crowd rushed to the classroom, glancing at Alexander and whispering.
"It was just one of the many of such incidents, though lately they've become sneakier," said Edgar. "They must have finally caught up to the fact that they end up in particularly nasty detentions with Snape every time something like this happened in public."
"Professor Snape is the only one who really stands up for us Slytherins, not that it does much good," said Emma.
Edgar nodded. "They just talk shit about him, how he is a Death Eater and biased and not even trusted enough to be our Head of House anymore. Well, Sinistra is alright, I suppose, but she is never there, especially the last two or three years," he added bitterly.
Meanwhile, the picture changed. The Slytherin common room had changed little since the time Harry had been there, Polyjuiced into Goyle, at the same time looking much more comfortable than his twelve-year-old self remembered.
Edgar came in hand-in-hand with Emma and threw his bag on the nearest couch. Just as they were sitting down, a pimply boy across the room shouted, "Hey, Farley! Is it true that Rowle got expelled?"
"What are you talking about?" Edgar stared at him in confusion.
"He ran to the dorm an hour ago," the boy said gleefully, obviously enjoying the attention of the entire common room. "And not fifteen minutes later he returns with his trunk, hiding his ugly mug in shame, and refuses even a word of an explanation. Has he finally snapped or what?"
"Shut up, you moron," Edgar snarled. "Nobody is expelled."
Belying his words, he and Emma looked at each other in concern and hurried to the dorms.
The sixth-year dormitory had only two beds, and one of them was in a pristine condition, with a note lying on the duvet.
"Alex's never made his bed properly once all the years I've known him," said present-Edgar.
There was no trunk near the bed. Edgar threw the door of the bedside cabinet open, but there was nothing inside. Half of the wardrobe turned out to be empty as well.
With shaking hands, Edgar opened the note.
Harry came closer to read it over the boy's shoulder.
"To Whom It May Concern,
Staying here has become unbearable for me. Since I turned 17 last month, I hereby officially withdraw from Hogwarts. Maybe I'll be able to find a place where people will judge me by who I am instead of by my parents.
P.S. Eddie, I'm sorry. You are my best friend, and I will always be grateful for everything you've done to me. I hope we'll meet again someday."
"This is a load of hippogriff shite!" Edgar said as soon as their feet touched the Divination classroom floor. "He never calls me Eddie unless we're joking around or something, he would never lump his mother and father together, and he would never ever just up and leave like that! Somebody forced him!"
Harry looked at him intently. "Somebody beside those Gryffindor boys?"
Edgar squirmed and exchanged glances with Emma.
"Edgar," Harry said mildly. "I won't be able to find your friend if you keep important information from me." Seeing as the boy was still unconvinced, he added, "Anything you say to me won't leave this room. Your grandfather hired me as an independent consultant, and I don't answer to Headmistress McGonagall or any of the staff for anything beyond my direct teaching duties." He hesitated. "In fact, nobody here is aware I'm investigating this matter, and I would very much like to keep it that way for now."
The boy sighed and extracted another memory.
"After Alex had disappeared and nobody was doing anything, we decided to keep an eye on the Gryff trio," he explained.
They plunged into the Pensieve once more, landing back outside the Defence classroom, although now the sky outside the windows was dark, and the corridor was lit with sconces.
Cal Talbott was pacing back and forth in front of the door, displaying none of the easy confidence he'd had in the first memory. His fingers were crumpling a piece of parchment nervously.
Harry couldn't see Edgar anywhere, but a subtle shifting of the lights and shadows against the opposite wall betrayed someone under the Disillusionment Charm.
"Professor Flitwick must be proud of you, Mr. Farley," Harry said, following the almost imperceptible movement. "This is a difficult spell to master." Merlin knows it took Pansy a long time to learn how to disillusion herself properly. How one could be a near-genius at Transfiguration, yet complete pants at Charms, Harry would never know.
Edgar was visibly torn between preening at the praise and feeling disappointed that he had been spotted so quickly. Emma just narrowed her eyes at Harry with a thoughtful look on her face.
Meanwhile, the door leading to Richardson's office next to the classroom opened.
"Here you are, lad, come in, come in," Richardson boomed. "Let's discuss your special NEWT assignment."
Talbott came in but didn't close the door properly behind him.
Harry and present-Edgar hurried to look inside through the crack in the door, while memory-Edgar followed much more cautiously and stopped at a safe distance.
Every Defence teacher Harry's time had always decorated this office to their own taste. From the functional practicality of Lupin to pinks and kittens of Umbridge to narcissistic portraits of Lockhart, no two versions were alike. Since Richardson used to be an Auror, Harry subconsciously expected something similar to fake Moody's office: Sneakoskopes and Foe-Glasses and other Dark Detectors. Instead, what this room resembled most was the version of Harry's own office that Pansy was stubbornly trying to create every time a rich Pureblood client made an appointment. Dark mahogany furniture, a Persian carpet on the floor, and the books on the shelves, all bound in leather and with gilded spines, stood orderly in sections of matching colours. In contrast, the desk was a mess, cluttered with parchment, quills, stacks of textbooks, and, incongruously, a Beater's bat.
Talbott stood in front of the Richardson's desk, shuffling from foot to foot.
"Professor Richardson, I—" He drew a big breath. "I appreciate everything you've done for me, I really do, but I've thought about it— What I mean to say is what we are doing is just not right, and I'm pretty sure it's illegal," he babbled.
"Oh, you've thought about it, you say." Richardson's expression grew angry, then smoothed into a fake smile full of teeth. He threw an anxious glance at the door and flicked his wand. The door closed, cutting out his reply.
"Now isn't that disturbing." Harry frowned once they were out of the Pensieve again. "Listen here, kids," he said, making sure his voice sounded serious. "I won't say no more spying, because I remember myself at your age. No amount of dire warnings would have stopped me then. But no more spying on Richardson. I'll look into him myself. Got it? If you want to do something useful, get me that memory of Alexander leaving, but try to do it discreetly."
The Slytherins looked mutinous but nodded.
"Do you still have that note?" Harry asked next. There were ways to check it for authenticity and all kinds of things.
Edgar shook his head. "No, McGonagall took it at once. I guess I could ask her," he suggested dubiously.
"I doubt Headmistress McGonagall would give it to a student." Harry paused. "And one more thing. Do you know where Alexander lives? I'd like to visit his mother, but she's proven to be elusive."
"I've never visited Alex. He always comes to us over summer hols," Edgar said. "I've always got an impression that his Mum's rather paranoid, because of his father, I guess." He furrowed his brow. "He cursed her, back then before the war, Alex's father, I mean. She has been getting worse recently. That's why I don't believe he just ran away on his own free will. He would never leave his Mum like that."
"Maybe he mentioned his hometown at least?" Harry asked.
Edgar thought about it. "Not that I can recall. Only that it was somewhere Muggle." His face crumpled. "How can I not know something so basic about my best friend?"
"I remember him having a slight Liverpool accent when he was younger," Emma said, putting her hand on Edgar's shoulder.
Harry eyed her with curiosity. As he had learned at his job, wizards and witches were rarely able to pinpoint exact accents. Although outside of the enclaves such as Hogsmeade, Godric's Hollow, Ottery St. Catchpole and Diagon Alley, magic folk lived scattered throughout the British Isles, they didn't interact much with the local population and thus didn't develop local accents. And Liverpool didn't have its own wizarding community. For most people, it was just a name on the map or a place where Celestina Warbeck held a concert once. Most people able to place English accents geographically beyond London ones were Muggle-borns or Halfbloods working in the muggle world.
"Thank you, Miss Weasley. I'll be able to start with that." If the boy went to the Muggle primary, there had to be all sorts of records. He hoped Mrs. Rowle hadn't been paranoid enough to change the name as well.
Harry caught sight of the huge astronomical clock on the wall. It showed positions of the sun, moon, zodiacal constellations and some other major planets as well as, probably as an afterthought, time. "Now look at that, it's long past your curfew already. Erm... do you need me to write you a pass?"
"No, we are good," Edgar answered. With his proficiency with the Disillusionment Charm, they probably were. Fortunately for Hogwarts, the last memory showed that Edgar still didn't figure out he should cast a silencing spell on his feet to stay truly unnoticed. Oh well, Harry didn't at his age either. No need to make sneaking too easy for the new generation.
The students stood up.
"You know, when we first saw you at the feast, a Divination teacher in a poncho," Emma said cheekily, "I was sceptical. But you really know your stuff, don't you?"
"Why, thank you for that vote of confidence," Harry replied. "Only I don't see why you would call my Seer robes a poncho."