HARRY POTTER AND THE SECRET ENEMY
Harry Potter and all associated characters and situations are the property of J.K. Rowling. I make no claim to ownership.
CHAPTER 36: Investigations Into Dark Matters
21 February 1993
The Hogwarts Owlery
"Well, Albus?" Scrimgeour asked sarcastically. "Now do you agree that this is a matter for the DMLE?"
Dumbledore sighed. "Honestly, Rufus! I apprised the DMLE of these matter from the start after the incident on Halloween. For that matter, I have been in favor of an official DMLE investigation of this 'Heir of Slytherin' business since 1943! Unfortunately, you know as well as I what factors thwart both our desires."
"Factors, sir?" inquired James Potter which earned him a glare from his superior.
"It has to do with the respective charters of both Hogwarts and the Wizengamot, James," said the Headmaster. "Of the two, Hogwarts was founded five centuries earlier by an alliance the four most powerful wizards and witches of that era, and they were quite intent that what passed for wizarding government at the time should have no say in how their school was to be run. Centuries later, both the Wizengamot and the Ministry of Magic were able to obtain some influence over Hogwarts as a result of magical treaties agreed to by former Headmasters, but every Headmaster upon obtaining the position is obliged to swear an Unbreakable Oath to maintain Hogwarts independence from the government as much as possible. The Founders also built magical defenses into the castle to protect against sieges and invasions. These defenses cannot be updated to understand our more civilized modern climate and so cannot tell the difference between a squad of aurors and an invading army. Unless they are acting pursuant to an official arrest warrant, the castle will identify aurors acting in their official capacities as a hostile invading force and respond accordingly. The only way you, Rufus, and the other aurors downstairs can even perform your investigative duties today is because I am actively suppressing the school's very strong desire to attack you all violently, which I will only be able to do for another few hours at most. And the only way to allow the DMLE unfettered access to the school is if I exercise my authority as Headmaster to shut Hogwarts down for a period of no less than two years, an extreme step only taken twice before in Hogwarts history, and one I am unwilling to take at this point."
"And if a student dies from these petrifications, Albus, like what happened the last time?" Scrimgeour said grimly.
"Then, like the last time, I will likely spend years wondering if I could have done something differently, even though realistically the most probable answer is 'no, I could not.'"
Scrimgeour shook his head in irritation and then carefully knelt down to examine Colin Creevey's petrified form. He tugged gently on the letter clutched in the boy's frozen hand, and when it would not move, he gestured at it with his wand and summoned it directly into his hand without tearing it. To his surprise, it was addressed to the Daily Prophet. Then, something else attracted the leonine auror's attention, and he lifted up the bottom of the boy's robe. There was a five-inch long jagged rip starting at the hem. He held the tear up for the others to see.
"Albus, how long could the boy have gotten around with a robe like this without getting docked points?"
The Headmaster closed his eyes, and the other two men could feel the magical ambiance of the castle thicken as he communed with it. "Mr. Creevey hasn't had any points taken for any reason at all in over a month, let alone for improper attire. The Gryffindor prefects are quite diligent. Most likely, they would have noticed and repaired that tear for him if he'd gotten it more than a day ago."
Scrimgeour nodded and started clumsily to stand back up, grunting in pain from the leg that had been crippled the previous summer. Potter moved to help him stand, but when the older man practically snarled at him, he quickly stepped back. Once standing, the Chief Auror waved his wand again. "SCRUTIMINIUS LOOSE BLACK THREADS." A tiny light emanated from the tip of his wand, accompanied by soft humming noise that grew louder as he moved around the room. Eventually, the Detection Charm led him down the stairs. Finally, on a piece of railing at the edge of the landing just below the Owlery, he found what he was looking for: several black threads that had been caught on a loose nail about three feet above the floor as the boy's robe was snagged and ripped.
"Hmm," he said as he considered the evidence. "Obviously, this is quite suggestive, wouldn't you agree, Auror Potter?" he asked with deceptive politeness. James stared back and forth between his boss and the threads caught on the nail. He opened his mouth as if to speak, and then closed it again. After a few seconds, Dumbledore finally rescued him.
"I believe what Rufus wishes us to note is that while the tear was at the hem of young Creevey's robes, the rip was caused by a nail at waist-height. I assume that Rufus wants us to follow his deduction that Creevey's attacker levitated him up the stairs and that he was actually petrified elsewhere."
"Indeed," said the Chief Auror. "But the question is ... why?"
Dumbledore considered the question. "Because if we knew where the petrification actually occurred, it would be a vital clue as to who was doing it and how."
Scrimgeour nodded sagely. "What do you think we should do with the boy, Albus? Take him to St. Mungo's? Or keep him here?"
Dumbledore sighed. "We might as well keep him in the Infirmary. I've already made inquiries at St. Mungo's, and they assure me that do not have sufficient reserves of refined Essence of Mandrake to make a Restorative Draught for any sum of money." He frowned. "And certainly not for a Muggleborn from a family of modest means," he muttered with a hint of anger under his breath.
He shook his head and pushed that thought aside. "In any case, if we are unable to secure Essence of Mandrake from some other source, the Mandrakes we're growing in the greenhouse here at Hogwarts will be fully grown in just a few months, though it pains me to see a young student deprived of almost half his First Year's schooling."
"Hmph. Personally, I'll be happy if that's all the pain we suffer from this nonsense. Albus, if we only have a few hours, we'd best get to it. May we use your office for interviews?"
"Of course," he replied.
James stiffened slightly. "Who will we be interviewing, sir," he said, his voice betraying his nervousness.
"Your sons, obviously, for a start. Jim first and then Harry. While you and I are doing that, the others will interview the Creevey boy's classmates to find out who saw him last and when."
"Sir, surely you don't think ..."
"Don't presume to tell me what I think, Potter! We'll interview the Potter Twins first to hopefully eliminate them as suspects. Or would you prefer to see a Prophet article in the morning about how the Ministry is trying to engage in a cover-up?"
James Potter sighed and then gave a salute before leaving. Scrimgeour watched him leave warily. "Not that we won't get that anyway what with a Senior Auror investigating crimes in which his own son is a suspect! Honestly, I'm almost looking forward to leaving the Auror Corps before any other Potter-related disasters crop up in my life."
"Yes, I read the formal announcement last week. Do you have any retirement plans yet, Rufus?"
Scrimgeour looked at Dumbledore speculatively. "I had a few ideas. I'd like to discuss one of them with you later, if it's convenient."
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "I look forward to it."
Later ...
When Jim Potter arrived at the gargoyle entrance to the Headmaster's Office (accompanied by Percy Weasley), his father was waiting for him bearing a grim expression.
"Dad?" the boy asked nervously.
"It's alright, son. Chief Auror Scrimgeour just wants to ask you a few questions. Just be honest with him and everything will be fine."
"Dad?" the boy started again. "You know I didn't have anything to do with this, right?"
"Of course, I know that, Jim," his father replied in a way Jim found completely unconvincing. "But you'll still have to answer these questions. That's just ... part of the process."
Jim stared intently at his father and then nodded before following him up the stairs. Once inside, he looked around the Headmaster's office anxiously. He'd had a few Occlumency lessons with Dumbledore including some training in calming his emotions, but mainly, he'd spent his time with the Headmaster undoing the damage wrought by Rookwood's cursed training manual. Despite the drama that accompanied his exposure as a Parselmouth, Jim felt better recently than he had in months, but all that progress seemed undone now by the fact that his father and his father's boss were interrogating him under suspicion of him being a dark wizard. He sat in the empty chair as Scrimgeour began to question him.
"Tell me, Mr. Potter, what were your feelings when you saw Mr. Creevey's picture in the Prophet yesterday," inquired Rufus Scrimgeour.
Jim considered giving a neutral response, but decided against it because (a) he felt like he had nothing to hide and (b) he knew enough about Scrimgeour to realize that he'd never be able to lie convincingly anyway.
"I ... was a bit upset. Actually, disappointed and hurt mainly, but also upset. Colin had been someone who really seemed to look up to me. Honestly, he looked up to me a bit too much, I think. Always following me around and taking my picture. And asking me questions about 'adventures' that I'd never actually had. But when I realized he'd sent a picture of me in to the Prophet to go along with that hatchet piece, it hurt my feelings to think that someone who'd called himself my 'biggest fan' had turned on me. But certainly not enough to where I'd try to hurt Colin. I haven't tried to hurt anyone, even though quite a few Gryffindors have tried to start fights with me in recent months."
"Do you count Cormac McLaggen among that group?" Scrimgeour asked.
"Cormac has been a jerk lately, but no more or less than half my house. But if I were really that mad at people calling me a 'dark wizard,' surely the last thing I'd do is use dark magic to attack them."
The interview continued for another five minutes with questions about Jim's movements during the time that McLaggen and Creevey were petrified. He'd had a partial alibi for the Creevey attack – there were brief periods where he was alone, and, after all, no one actually knew how the petrifications were accomplished or how long it would take. He had no alibi at all for the McLaggen attack. Finally, Jim was allowed to leave. But as he reached for the door, Scrimgeour called out to him.
"Oh, Mr. Potter, before you go, I did want to share one bit of news with you." He held up a crumpled letter, now opened, and waved it. "At the time of his attack, Mr. Creevey was on his way to post a letter to the Daily Prophet. You might wish to know that it was a letter of complaint. It seems that Mr. Creevey did not give the newspaper permission to use any of his pictures, that he did not know how the paper came into possession of one of his photographs, and that he was very angry that the paper would use one of those photographs as part of a piece attacking you. It seems young Mr. Creevey was quite certain of your innocence."
Jim's eyes widened, and he gave a weak smile. "Thank you for sharing that, sir." He glanced over to James to see how his father reacted to that news, but the man's face was impassive. Then, he turned and made his way out of the room. At the base of the stairs, Percy Weasley was waiting to escort him back to Gryffindor Tower. Harry was with him.
"What are you doing here?" Jim asked his brother.
Harry shrugged. "Apparently, after you, I'm the second most likely person to be the Heir of Slytherin. If the villain isn't the Boy-Who-Lived gone bad, then it must be his evil Slytherin twin trying to frame him."
"Are you?" Jim asked warily. "Trying to frame me, that is?"
Harry laughed at how direct his brother was, as if that were the sort of thing he'd admit in front of a prefect. "Jim, for once I'm not your enemy. But I do agree that whoever is trying to frame you has done so very effectively."
"So you think I'm innocent," Jim said almost in relief.
"Yes, though I also think innocence isn't enough to keep someone out of Azkaban. I recommend you don't go anywhere without a reliable witness until ... well, possibly for the rest of your life."
Jim went very pale and swallowed painfully. Then, he left with Percy while an amused Harry ascended the staircase to Dumbledore's office. There, he was briefly interrogated by Scrimgeour, James Potter, and Dumbledore. He answered every question about his own movements efficiently but thoroughly, making it absolutely clear that he had a solid alibi for all of the petrification attacks.
"You know, Mr. Potter," Scrimgeour drawled, "some people might think that having a perfect alibi for multiple attacks is itself suspicious."
"Yes sir," Harry replied easily. "Mainly people who've read too many Muggle mystery novels. In the real world, an ironclad alibi is usually pretty strong evidence of innocence."
Scrimgeour barked out a laugh while James tensed, as if nervous over his Heir's impertinence in front of his superior.
"I suppose so. Anyway, since Dumbledore himself supports your alibi for the McLaggen attack, I concede the point. Moving on, what do you think about the possibility of your brother being the one responsible for the petrifications?"
"I think that's nonsense. Obviously, he's being framed."
"And on what evidence do you base that assumption, Mr. Potter?" the Chief Auror asked. "It's not as though you could really know your brother that well. I am aware of your upbringing." Behind him, James straightened up, and he shot his boss an angry glare. Harry pretended not to notice.
"I base it on my observations that Jim Potter is a twelve-year-old boy of only average intelligence and cunning," he replied with a smile.
"Harry!" Dumbledore said in a reproving tone.
"I didn't mean it as an insult, sir, but as evidence. If Jim Potter were the Heir of Slytherin and also an idiot, he might punish people who had publicly annoyed him with petrification and then leave an 'Heir of Slytherin' calling card to draw attention to it. Similarly, if Jim were exceptionally clever, he might do the exact same thing, thinking that leaving an 'Heir of Slytherin' calling card was so over the top that it would be more likely to prove him innocent than incriminate him – although if that were the case, he seriously overestimated the intelligence of most of the students here." He glanced at Dumbledore. "Again, no offense intended, sir."
"None taken," Dumbledore replied with mild asperity.
Harry turned back to Scrimgeour. "I can imagine scenarios under which Jim was the Heir of Slytherin and was secretly the villain running around petrifying students. But I cannot imagine any scenario under which he would commit these crimes the manner they've been taking place. All of which tells me that someone else is trying to frame Jim..." Harry stopped in mid-sentence, and then his eyes narrowed. "But then, of course, you already knew that, didn't you, Chief Auror Scrimgeour?"
"Did I?" the man said with a faint smile. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean, young man?"
"You reputation proceeds you, Chief Auror. Before you rose to a mainly political and administrative office, you were known as a very brilliant and effective investigator. You know perfectly well that Jim's innocent and that someone's framing him. But you also dislike our father, and pretending that Jim's a viable suspect allows you to jerk James Potter around a bit."
There was dead silence in the room for several seconds. James looked back and forth from Harry to Scrimgeour as if he couldn't decide which one to be angry with. Finally, the Chief Auror laughed loudly and slapped his knee.
"Tell me, Mr. Potter. Have you considered the Auror Academy yourself? We need more clever people in the service. There's about to be a shortage of that, I think." After a few seconds, James realized he'd been insulted by his boss and turned red.
"Sir...!" he said angrily, but before he could continue, Scrimgeour silenced him with a glare and an upraised hand.
"Cool your burners, Potter. The boy's right. After interviewing them both, I am inclined to issue a public statement that our preliminary investigation indicates someone is attempting to frame Jim Potter as a way of damaging the reputation of the Boy-Who-Lived. That won't stop imbeciles from thinking that he's guilty anyway and that we're covering it up, but it's a start." He turned back to Harry. "So having concluded that it's a frame-job, who do you think is responsible?"
Harry shrugged. "No idea. But if I might offer a suggestion, it would be to find out what happened to Tom Riddle, Jr. and see if he had any descendants who might be at school now. I'm pretty sure he was the one behind the original Heir of Slytherin attacks back in 1943, and obviously someone must know how he did it to copy his style."
At that comment, Dumbledore very nearly choked on a lemon drop. "You think ... Tom Riddle was the Heir of Slytherin?! The victims were all his friends, including the one who died!"
"Well, you yourself said that the death of Myrtle Warren was probably accidental, sir. The intention was merely to petrify her like all the other targeted Muggle-borns. And while it might have sucked to be petrified and miss months of class, the practical effect of the whole thing was to make the Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs rally around their Muggle-born students while isolating the Slytherins, especially those from the more bigoted Pure-Blood families."
Dumbledore seemed genuinely amazed by the theory, which was itself amazing to the young Slytherin. Once again, Harry was forced to acknowledge that Snakes and Lions simply didn't think the same way.
"You're suggesting that the whole thing was done for the purpose of generating sympathy and support for other Muggle-born?" Dumbledore said.
Harry nodded. "Yes. Only the plan went wrong when Myrtle was accidentally killed. Tom panicked, especially when it seemed likely that the school would be shut down and he'd have to go back to a Muggle orphanage in London at the height of the Blitz, so he framed Hagrid because he knew that Headmaster Dippet would readily accept him as guilty."
"He was guilty!" interjected an elderly man in one of the paintings who Harry assumed was the aforementioned Armando Dippet. "Guilty of being an unspeakable abomination!"
"Armando, be silent!" Dumbledore said with unusual force. Harry was mildly surprised. He'd never actually seen the man angry, but then, he was known to have little truck with bigotry. Meanwhile, Scrimgeour considered what Harry had said.
"Tom Riddle, eh? Interesting. It's certainly worth looking into." Scrimgeour smiled broadly. "Seriously, Mr. Potter, have you considered the Auror Academy after graduation?"
Harry coughed. "I'm ... twelve, sir. It's a bit early for me to think about careers advice. But I will definitely keep it in mind."
"See that you do. I think that's all."
Harry stood and nodded at the three men before leaving without a word to his father.
Hours later, Harry made his way up to the Astronomy Tower. Despite the warning he'd given Jim earlier, the foolish boy had left Gryffindor Tower without an escort, thereby sending half the school into a panic over who "the Heir of Slytherin" would target next. Harry considered the matter for about twelve seconds and then knew immediately where his brother had gone and why. Once again, he was at the top of the Astronomy Tower, his favorite place for brooding.
"Honestly, Jim, what did I say? Don't go anywhere without a reliable witness as to your whereabouts! Are you just daring your enemy to strike again or what?"
Jim looked at his brother in surprise but then turned back to look out the window at the fading sunset. "It doesn't matter. I can't have a chaperone every second of my life. If nothing else, the Heir can strike while I'm in the dorm asleep, and I'll still get blamed. And even if nobody else gets petrified, all it proves is that I wasn't able to petrify anyone while I was under guard so I still look guilty. If I'm gonna be treated like a monster whatever I do, I might as well get some peace and quiet whenever I can without people staring at me and whispering behind my back."
"Really?" said Harry sarcastically. "Is the Boy-Who-Lived so thin-skinned that he can't bear the thought of his groupies turning on him? I've been called a freak by the only family I ever knew since I was old enough to walk, and I haven't let it break me the way insults from the likes of Cormac McLaggen and Ron Weasley have you."
"Harry," Jim interrupted. "I know your life with the Dursleys was awful. I know that, and I'm sorry. But even when you were with them, did you ever have to deal with the idea that everyone hated you?"
Harry started to respond, but the words died on his lips. He knew exactly what it was like for everyone to hate him, but it wasn't exactly something over which he could bond with his twin. When he didn't respond, Jim resumed his forlorn survey of the school grounds. Harry moved over to the open window and looked out. It was a long way down.
"Jim? You're not planning on doing something ... foolish up here, are you?"
Jim snorted. "I'm not going to kill myself if that's what you mean. I'm not that pathetic."
"I never said you were pathetic, Jim. But you're ... in a dark place right now." The other boy didn't respond, so Harry continued. "Anyway, I don't know if anyone's mentioned it to you, but Scrimgeour said he plans to announce that you're not a suspect and that the DMLE believes someone's trying to frame you. Maybe that will help."
Jim looked up with a small measure of excitement, but then the light in his eyes died as quickly as it had arisen. "Maybe," he said doubtfully before turning back to the window.
Harry signed and headed for the exit. But just before he could leave the room, Jim spoke again.
"Harry? As bad as your childhood with the Dursleys was, did you ever think maybe it ... made you stronger? And that the way I was raised was what made me ... weak?"
Harry hesitated before finally responding. "I think strong and weak are both just states of mind, Jim. You choose who and what you want to be. And if you don't like who and what you are, just choose again." Jim looked back at him in genuine surprise at his brother's philosophy. The two brothers made steady eye contact for several seconds before Harry finally turned and left the tower. At the base of the stairs sat Neville and Hermione who had come here at his request and were sitting on the floor of the corridor reviewing Transfiguration notes together. He thanked them both for staying near his brother before heading back to the dungeon, his thoughts still churning.
Later that night in the Lair, Harry handed Theo a draft of a letter addressed to an extremely unexpected recipient. The other boy reviewed the letter before glaring at Harry in consternation.
"Why?" he asked almost angrily.
"Why would I write to Peter Pettigrew with suggestions on how to spin the fact that Jim is a Parselmouth? What reasons occur to you?" Harry smiled, and Theo narrowed his eyes in response.
"Hopefully not out of some thus far concealed brotherly affection," he said sarcastically, "but other than that, I'm drawing a complete blank." He paused before fixing Harry with a speculative gaze. "Do you know the real reason yourself? Have you examined your actions under Occlumency to determine whether you are acting out of reason or emotion?"
Harry had. He knew exactly what emotions were driving him to do this, and he had decided to do it anyway. Not that he'd share that realization with anyone else when he had a perfectly good pretext.
"Let's just say I'm running an experiment," Harry replied smugly.
"An ... experiment?"
"Yeah. You see, Muggles have this saying: What happens when an irresistible force meets an immovable object? I've decided to put it to the test. In this case, the irresistible force is Wizarding Britain's love of the Boy-Who-Lived, while the immovable object is over four centuries of bigotry towards Parselmouths."
Theo thought about that for a second, and then his eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You're trying to use Jim to rehabilitate Parseltongue into social respectability?!"
Harry nodded proudly. "There's no way I can conceal my own Parseltongue forever. And since our good friend Peter Pettigrew is already set up to control Jim's public image, we might as well put him to use."
"Just be careful, Harry. We know how dangerous Pettigrew can be."
"Relax, Theo," said Harry confidently. "For once, Pettigrew will be on our side."
The day after Colin was petrified, the story appeared in the Daily Prophet, along with an official interview with Rufus Scrimgeour in which he stated that they had no official suspects at this time, including Jim Potter who was asked about specifically. As he'd promised, Scrimgeour stated the DMLE's preliminary assessment that Jim was not responsible and was in fact the target of a deliberate effort at false incrimination. For the next several days, the Letters to the Editor page of the Prophet was full of comments from all across the political spectrum, some attacking Jim and accusing the DMLE of a coverup, others praising the boy and denouncing his detractors. The following week, the Prophet put out a "special edition" with a four-page insert containing an analysis of Jim's own personal history cast in glowing terms; the history of Parseltongue, at least as far as it was known in Britain; the gift's apparent positive benefits when used for healing purposes; and arguments from "noted experts" claiming that, as Harry had suggested, Jim had acquired the gift from You-Know-Who through "right of magical conquest" and that it was a sign of his victory over the Dark Lord rather than a negative consequence of it. Letters attacking Jim continued, but going forward, they were offset by an equal number in his favor, and in the Wizengamot, the proposal to add Parselmouths to the Conscription List was quietly withdrawn ... at least for the time being.
1 March 1993
The Gryffindor Common Room
"What's this supposed to be?" Ron asked quietly but angrily. He was holding up a book and glaring at Jim Potter.
"It's a copy of Quidditch Through the Ages, Ron," Jim replied. "By the way, happy birthday."
"What's your game, Potter? After everything we've been through, you expect me to believe that this is just a birthday present?"
Jim sighed and responded in a tired voice. "Alright, you've got me. That's how I've been petrifying people – by sending them cursed birthday presents. Even though it wasn't Cormac or Colin's birthday when they got petrified."
"Very funny," Ron replied angrily.
"It was just a birthday present, Ron. Nothing more and nothing sinister. A birthday present ... and also, I guess, my way of saying sorry."
Ron looked startled at that. "Sorry for what? For being a Parselmouth? For lying to us all?"
Jim studied Ron's face with a sad expression. "For lying to you in particular, Ron. You were my best friend, and I kept something important about myself from you because I was ashamed of it and afraid of how you'd react if you knew. I should have trusted you with the truth last summer. I'm sorry and ... and I miss my friend."
Unreadable emotions clouded Ron's face for several seconds before finally resolving themselves into a cold sneer. "Tough," he said before dropping the book at Jim's feet and storming off. Jim shook his head and picked the birthday present up off the floor.
18 April 1993
The Defense Classroom
8:00 p.m.
Due to an extremely busy schedule with his other research groups and the Dueling Club (which still met every other week), Lockhart was unable to schedule a meeting with Team Mysterio until mid-April. During the intervening two months, there were no more petrifications, and the school's anger at and fear of Jim Potter had settled down to a general disdain. Even Ron stopped openly accusing the Boy-Who-Lived of being the Heir of Slytherin in favor of vague insinuations that he was "going dark."
Harry and Ginny entered the classroom to find that Lockhart and the rest of Team Mysterioso were already there. Once everyone was present, the professor sealed the room with a truly impressive number of privacy and locking spells as everyone took a seat around the table. While Lockhart was casting his spells, Penelope at his direction was retrieving his pensieve from a cabinet. Harry had been surprised to learn that the pensieve Lockhart used in many of his lectures (most notably in the one about werewolves) belonged to his family. He knew little about pensieves but was well aware of how rare and expensive they were. Unlike Harry's black one, Lockhart's pensieve was a pearly white and apparently lacked shrinking charms. Halfway over, the cumbersome thing slipped from Penelope's hands and fell to the floor. She looked up at the Professor with a mortified expression.
"Please do be careful, Miss Clearwater," Lockhart said mildly.
"I am sooo sorry, Professor," she said apologetically.
"My dear Miss Clearwater, a pensieve is nearly indestructible. Your best Blasting Hex wouldn't even chip it in the slightest. I was worried mainly about you dropping it on your foot, which I think would hurt like the blazes. I don't think I'm insured for that sort of mishap, ha-Ha!" The embarrassed prefect picked up the dish and brought it over to the table.
"Welcome, team," Lockhart said addressing the group. "Now before we begin, I'd like to make some things clear. I have already extracted Miss Lovegood's memory of her mother's unfortunate demise, but at her request I have not reviewed it myself yet. Miss Lovegood was ... insistent that the rest of Team Mysterioso plus Mr. Potter should all review the scene together. However, I'm afraid I must insist on a condition of my own – namely, that each of you swear an Unbreakable Vow that you will not reveal anything you see in the memory or that we discuss in our subsequent debriefing without Miss Lovegood's consent."
"An Unbreakable Vow?" exclaimed a scandalized Penelope Clearwater. "That's a bit extreme, isn't it?"
"Miss Clearwater, we do not know what we're about to witness beyond the fact that it represents the final moments in the life of Pandora Lovegood, an event we suspect might be related to Miss Lovegood's apparently unique supernatural perception. It is not beyond the realm of possibility that we are about to witness the commission of one or more crimes. As such, I feel that I have an obligation to protect Miss Lovegood from any negative consequences that might arise from our viewing this memory. If it turns out that the memory is innocuous, she can always release you from the Vow immediately after our meeting ends. If it is not innocuous, it's quite possible that you may one day be thankful for the protections that the Vow will afford you against anyone who seeks to recover that information from your minds." He hesitated. "And also, I must confess that the Vow is for my own protection as well. To be honest, I don't think the Headmaster would approve at all of my allowing students to review a memory in which someone dies. We're nearing the end of my contract, and I have no wish to be sacked with just a few months to go."
The five students all considered that carefully. "Oh well," Penelope said with a shrug, "being a Ravenclaw is all about the quest for knowledge I guess." The others for whatever reasons of their own also agreed, and so with Gilderoy Lockhart as the bonder, everyone swore an oath to Luna on their magic and lives that they would never reveal whatever they learned from reviewing her memory without her consent. Then, after Lockhart told them how, the four students (Luna herself had no wish to see the memory again) followed him into the pensieve.
The basement was moderately-sized and had been retrofitted to serve as a laboratory. Crude hand-drawn protective runes covered the walls and door. Near the door there was a large table upon which lay pages and pages of rune sequences, arithmancy equations, and various other writings. Nearby, there was an eight-year-old Luna sitting peacefully on the floor playing with her dolls. A large open space had been cleared away, leaving an open area where Pandora Lovegood was painstakingly carving still more runes into the wooden floor with a strange curved blade, muttering softly to herself as she worked. Penelope identified the language with a whisper as being mostly Elder Futhark.
"There's no need to whisper, Miss Clearwater," said Lockhart, though his own voice was softer than his usual bombast. "Being nothing but the shades of times past, they cannot hear us talk."
Hermione and Ginny moved over to examine the desk. Both of them felt a pang of sadness at the sight of the little girl who played happily with no idea of how her life was about to change for the worse. Then, Hermione noticed the various papers on the desk. She could not move them for they were ephemeral to her touch, but she could read the ones on top. She frowned.
"Professor, how accurate are these memories? Surely Luna can't remember with perfect recall everything that's written here."
"Pensieves, Miss Granger, are peculiar things. We don't rightly know how they work, as there's only one magical village in Africa where they're produced ... at a rate of one every ten years, which is why they're not more common. The village in question, naturally, guards the secrets of its techniques zealously. What we do know is that pensieves somehow operate at the intersection of mind-magic and time-magic. The pensieve uses the inserted memory to track its way back through time to create a highly accurate vision of the place and period depicted therein, one which is in many ways more accurate than the original memory. For example, it is possible to review the memories of a deaf man and actually hear words uttered in his presence that he himself could not have heard. It is also possible to review the memories of someone who was blindfolded and see things that he himself was prevented from actually seeing, and, of course, it's no problem at all to examine someone's memory and review people and events that the person wasn't even paying attention to at the time. The only exception is when the donor's memories have been altered through Obliviation or Occlumency, though in the former situation, the alterations are readily apparent in a pensieve. For the purposes of this excursion, you may assume that everything you see is exactly as it was at the time in question."
Hermione absorbed that before resuming her study of the desk and its contents. Meanwhile, Harry and Penelope moved over to where Pandora Lovegood was working.
"Penelope," Harry asked, "is this ... normal runeworking?"
"No, it's not," she answered. "Honestly, I've never heard of someone combining runes like this. And certainly never just carving them into the floor like this! It's ... bizarre!"
"I'm not surprised," said Harry. "Look at her!" As Harry pointed out, Pandora Lovegood seemed in obvious distress as she worked. Her hair was disheveled, she looked as though she hadn't slept in days, and it was obvious that she'd been crying. Indeed, as they watched, she looked up and over at her daughter who was still playing quietly and then she sniffled and wiped away tears with a sleeve. In all honesty, Harry thought the woman's demeanor hinted at some form of insanity. Lockhart also noted the woman's appearance before turning his attention to the runs on the floor. They seemed to be in a crude circular pattern, with room for Pandora herself to sit in the center. Suddenly, Lockhart felt extremely uneasy about the scene they were all witnessing.
"Miss Clearwater, what can you tell me about these runes? I must confess that I dropped the class after OWLs. It wasn't my cup of tea."
The girl shook her head. "I don't know what she's trying to accomplish here, sir. There's not any obvious thematic link tying the runes together. Just what appear to be random repetitions of Ansuz, Naudiz, Sowilo, and Ear from the Elder Futhark rune chart, along with a few other symbols from entirely different languages that I haven't studied thrown in for good measure."
"Any ideas on what they all might mean together?"
She studied the runes for a few seconds before shaking her head. "Not in this context, Professor. If I had to guess, I'd say the Futhark runes were meant to invoke the concepts of the World, Need, Power ... and Death. But that's just a guess."
"Professor, we found something," said Ginny in a shaky voice. She was pointing at a letter off to the side of the desk partially buried under pages of Arithmancy which had been scrawled in a nervous chicken-scratch handwriting. Most of the letter was covered up, but what was visible was the letterhead at the top which said "From the Desk of Saul Croaker, Voice of the Unspeakables."
"I've heard of the Unspeakables," said Harry. "Though I'm still not clear on who they are or what they do."
"They're, um, a division of the Ministry," said Ginny who was obviously nervous to discuss the issue. "They run the Department of Mysteries and do research into areas of magic that are forbidden for normal witches and wizards. My father talked about them some, although Mum got mad at him whenever he mentioned the topic in front of any of us kids. He left the impression that they were ... scary." She swallowed and looked around at the group. "Also, and I hope this is just a coincidence, but Croaker was Pandora Lovegood's maiden name."
"That is indeed interesting, Miss Weasley. It might also interest you all to know that the Voice of the Unspeakable is the only member of that organization whose name is publicly known, as he is the public spokesman for the group as his title implies. The rest all undergo rituals to occlude their identities from both memory and history. Or so the the rumors say, at least."
Lockhart glanced back towards Pandora Croaker Lovegood and saw that whatever runework she was doing would be done in just a few minutes. After considering the matter, Lockhart seemed to come to a decision, as he drew his wand and placed it over the papers covering the letter from Saul Croaker.
"It's a good thing you've all taken an Unbreakable Vow," he said, "because I'm not supposed to be able to do this. OBLIVIATE." To everyone's surprise, the spell caused the obscuring papers to vanish.
"Did you just erase some of Luna's memories?!" Harry asked somewhat testily.
"Technically and only temporarily. The memory will revert to its default condition when we leave. It's a cheat of sorts that lets you see things in pensieve memories that would normally be hidden by other objects. Now quickly, let us examine Croaker's missive." And the five investigators crowded around the desk to do just that.
FROM THE DESK OF SAUL CROAKER, VOICE OF THE UNSPEAKABLES
My dearest Pandora,
Sending you this letter pains me more than I can say, but the signs are unmistakable. It is now clear that your daughter, my granddaughter, shares your mother's gift, the one which mercifully skipped your generation. Luna is a Heliopath, both blessed and cursed with the power to see into the astral realms and perceive that which dwells in those strange domains which rest both atop and within our own. I would give anything to conceal Luna's status, my child. You know that. But you also know that I am an Unspeakable, and I have oaths that I must fulfill. Moreover, Luna is not just a Heliopath. Since your mother's death, she is also the only Heliopath known to exist in Wizarding Britain today. Her powers represent a matter of national security, and it is simply not possible for me to cover for you or her any further.
I will come for Luna on the first of the month. Please take the time between now and then to prepare Luna for what's to come and to enjoy the remaining time you have together . Once she has entered training with the Unspeakables, you will not see her again for a long time, if ever. I wish it could be some other way, but my hands are bound in this matter. Please forgive me.
Your loving father
"What's a Heliopath?" asked Harry in confusion.
"Well, according to Luna," said Hermione, "it's an equine fire spirit that burns everything it touches. She says Minister Fudge has an army of them at his disposal. I'm guessing she's wrong about that."
"Indeed," said Lockhart in a grim voice.
"Sir?" asked Harry.
The man hesitated. Then, he glanced back towards Pandora Lovegood, who seemed nearly done with her carving. "Students, I haven't been completely honest with you or Miss Lovegood about the goal of this team. You see, there was one piece of information in my old CoMC text that I didn't share. The book described nargles and wrackspurts in general terms, but it also said that if you encounter someone who claims to be able to see such creatures, you should immediately report them to the Ministry, as such individuals are referred to as Heliopaths and are on the Conscription List."
"The what?" asked Ginny.
"The Conscription List," explained Harry. "It's a list of magical talents that don't require either a wand or a spell to use. If you have one of the talents on the list, and usually you're born with them, then ... you basically get drafted to work for the Ministry whether you want to or not. My tutor, Nymphadora Tonks, is a metamorphmagus who had to register when she was a child. It helped her get into the Auror Academy, but she never really had a choice about working for the Ministry in some capacity." He turned to Lockhart somewhat angrily. "So what is a Heliopath and why is it so important that it leads to conscription for someone as young as eight?"
"To be honest, I'm still not completely certain, Mr. Potter. If I ever knew before this year, my memories were erased along with everyone else's. What little I know comes from a few paragraphs in an old textbook and what I just read from Croaker's letter. I know that the term has nothing to do with the sun or with flames. Rather, it comes from Dmitri Helios, a Greek wizard who documented the phenomenon in the 14th century and somewhat fatuously named it after himself. I deduce that Heliopathy allows one to perceive the Astral Plane and the creatures which exist there, creatures which apparently are superimposed over our dimension and which interact with us by reacting to our emotional states. As for why that's so useful for the Ministry, my conjecture is that if Miss Lovegood can accurately perceive how our emotions affect the astral creatures that only she can see, then probably no amount of Occlumency could prevent her from reading emotions and telling truth from lie."
Harry's eyes widened. That would be incredibly useful for the Ministry by itself, though he personally suspected there might be a lot more Luna would be able to do with her powers once she understood them. Which just left the question – why did everyone forget all about the matter? And as if in answer to that question, Harry and the others suddenly noticed that Pandora Lovegood had stopped inscribing runes and was now chanting softly. The group moved closer so as to hear her words.
"As I will it, so mote it be," she said in a ragged voice. "As I will it, so mote it be. As I will it, so mote it be."
Harry looked over at his fellow students, all of whom were as nonplussed as he. While the ritual phrase "so mote it be" was often incorporated into vows and oaths, this was not how spells were supposed to be performed according to everything Hogwarts had taught them about magic. The boy was surprised by how ... unnatural he found the scene.
"Let Heliopathy be forgotten. So mote it be. Let the word Heliopath be forgotten. So mote it be. Let all who knew of the powers of the Heliopath forget. So mote it be. Let all evidence of the Heliopaths be stricken and erased. So mote it be."
As the woman droned on and on, Harry looked around the room wildly. His sensation of unease had blossomed into one of mounting dread and fear despite his best efforts to Occlude. All of his mental barriers were being overcome by a new and frightening certainty that something was coming in response to Pandora Lovegood's call. Something alien and taboo and wrong. But above all, something with power completely beyond Harry's understanding. And with every word the witch uttered, that something drew ever nearer.
"Let the Unspeakables forget about Heliopathy and about my Luna's gifts. So mote it be. Let the Ministry forget about Heliopathy and my Luna's gifts. So mote it be. Let my Luna grow up free from those who would fear her and use her. So mote it be."
Harry felt a sudden sharp pain in his hand. He looked down and realized that Hermione had grabbed his hand and now held it in a death-grip, her face now unnaturally pale. Ginny was transfixed by the scene and stared unblinkingly at Pandora as her voice rose ever louder and harsher. Penelope kept looking about the room as if afraid something blasphemous would crawl through the walls. And gradually, all of them became aware of a discordant humming sound that grew louder and louder with each word Pandora Lovegood spoke. From outside the door, Harry could hear a banging noise and the sound of Xenophilius Lovegood yelling for his wife, but that was soon barely audible over the fiendish humming.
"Give me what I ask for, and in return, take my magic! Every drop!" The woman hesitated and her voice broke slightly when she continued. "And if that be not enough ... then take what you will! So mote it be!"
With those words, Harry struggled not to panic. The humming was now painfully loud, and the feeling that something inconceivable was coming had been replaced with the certainty that it was here all around them. He turned to ask Lockhart what was going on and did a double-take. For Gilderoy Lockhart – Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, Defeater of the Bandon Banshee, the man who had hunted the Wagga Wagga Werewolves to extinction – was rigid with terror!
"Let our bargain be struck!" Pandora shouted over the deafening angry hum that to Harry was like a million doxies swarming all around him. "So mote it be! So mote it be! SO MOTE IT BE!" As she cried out, Harry watched in horror as teardrops of blood began to pour from her eyes. Finally, she took a painfully deep breathe and screamed. "IMAGO DEI!"
With that, Lockhart matched her scream with one of his own. "NOOOOOOOO!" Simultaneously, he pulled his wand and whirled it wildly overhead. Instantly, Harry and the other students felt a powerful force pick them up off the ground, even as Pandora Lovegood began to scream in agony. The next thing any of them knew, they were skidding across the floor of the DADA classroom away from the pensieve. But despite the change of circumstance, the alien humming was still growing in power. Instantly, Lockhart jumped back up to his feet and pointed his wand at the pensieve which was violently shaking in response to the awful sound that was emanating from within it. "PROTEGO MAXIMUS!" he cried out.
A powerful radiant shield manifested around the table and the pensieve sitting on it. Immediately, Lockhart cried out in pain, and after a few seconds, a small rivulet of blood trickled out of his left nostril. "Potter!" he cried out. Shaking off his surprise, Harry popped his own wand and added his own Protego to Lockhart's. He too cried out in pain from whatever unearthly force it was that wanted to burst its way out of Luna's memory and into the real world. Seconds later, Hermione and Penelope each added their own Protego shields to the first two, while Ginny protectively hugged a terrified Luna. Finally, after what seemed like forever but was actually no more than ten seconds, the humming subsided. Harry and the others allowed their shields to lapse, and then all of them gasped in shock. There, on the table, were the remains of Lockhart's supposedly indestructible pensieve, now shattered into a half-dozen fragments. The man sighed and wiped the blood from under his nose.
"Well, it's a good thing Mother wasn't here to see this. She'd have a conniption!"
Five minutes later, the members of Team Mysterioso were back around the table which had been cleared of pensieve fragments and which now held several mugs of hot chocolate and a bowl of candy bars which the Professor had been urging his students to eat in order to revive their spirits.
"We will discuss these matters now, and then we will not discuss them again," he said firmly. "Team Mysterioso is done. You will each earn a perfect 100% for your efforts on this team and will be excused from writing a paper at the end of term. That does not apply to you, Mr. Potter, as you will still be expected to write a paper on the Patronus Charm unless you succeed in manifesting a corporeal one, in which case you too will be excused. I assure you, however, that your paper will be graded leniently in light of your assistance tonight. But after you leave this room, you will not even think about that you saw in the memory, not if you know what's good for you. I would never have allowed you to witness the memory if I'd known that Miss Lovegood's mother was going to use" he hesitated and grimaced "that spell."
"Professor," inquired Hermione, "just what is ... Imago Dei. I mean, I know it literally means 'Image of God,' but why does that mean?"
Lockhart rubbed his forehead in frustration. "First of all, please refer to that spell as that spell and not by its given name. That spell's name is dangerous, students. Say those two words in front of the wrong people, and you risk being deemed to dangerous even to be allowed to rot in Azkaban!"
"You make ... that spell sound worse than an Unforgivable, sir," said Penelope in surprise.
"To our government, Miss Clearwater, it is," he replied after taking a sip of hot chocolate.
"Those even suspected of summoning Wild Magic are simply flung through the Veil of Death," Harry said softly as he remembered the Countess Zabini's words about the dangers of discussing forbidden magic. Lockhart's head jerked in his direction, and the older man frowned in annoyance.
"Has anyone ever told you, Mr. Potter, that you are dangerously well-informed?" he said irritably.
"Not ... in those particular words, but I take your meaning," Harry replied.
"So once again, what is ... that spell?" asked Ginny with some irritation. "Is it like a Memory Charm only with a global reach?"
Lockhart laughed as if with a mild delirium. "Oh no, Miss Weasley, it's not a Memory Charm."
"Well then," Luna asked with a sob, "what does it do? What could it possibly do that was worth my mother's life?"
He sighed as if mentally drained. "It does ... whatever you want it to, Miss Lovegood."
"I don't understand," said Penelope. "Every spell has a design matrix that sets its parameters. Every Charm does one thing. Sometimes, that one thing can be pretty broadly defined, but ultimately every Charm does one thing and one thing only. What do you mean Imago Dei does 'whatever you want?'"
"I meant what I said, Miss Clearwater. Imago Dei ... has no limiting parameters. You describe as clearly as possible the outcome you want. You articulate what you're willing to sacrifice to get it. And apparently, you say 'so mote it be' a lot. And if Magic judges your proposed sacrifice worthy of what you've demanded, then the spell will reorder Reality itself according to your specified outcome. If not, then the spell will fail ... or possibly it will take something else it considers sufficient and grant your request anyway. Or perhaps provide a suitably ironic variation on your request. The legends vary."
Hermione was confused. "But why is it such a secret? If there's a spell so versatile that it can do potentially anything, why is the Ministry, according to you, willing to kill to conceal it?"
Lockhart took a deep breath and exhaled. "Miss Granger, I'm not a devotee of Muggle fiction, but are there not Muggle stories in which a character is gifted with one or more magical wishes or the equivalent only to destroy himself when he uses that gift unwisely?"
She thought for an instant and then nodded. "I know there's a short story about a cursed monkey's paw. It give you three wishes, but it would always twist your intentions so that your wish is granted in a way you didn't want. Wish for money, and it comes in the form of a death benefit after your son is brutally killed in a workplace accident. That sort of thing."
"Precisely. Now imagine that story except that the monkey's paw doesn't stop at three wishes. Instead, you can potentially make an infinite number of wishes until one finally kills you due to bad phrasing on your part. Imagine also that in addition to yourself, there are thousands, possibly millions of people who each have monkey paws of their own."
The students sat aghast at Lockhart's description. "It would tear the world apart," said Harry in a horrified awe.
"Quite so," said Lockhart. "Imago Dei is one of a very small number of spells which are considered to be so dangerous to the entire world that anyone believed capable of casting them is marked for death. You may recall that last term during my rather infamous rant about dark and light magic, I mentioned in passing the Anathema Codex. Imago Dei is one of the forbidden spells listed therein. Never mention what you know about that spell!"
Shaken by their experiences and by Lockhart's intensity, the students all acquiesced.
After answering a few final questions, Lockhart sent the students to their dorms for the night. Troubled by their experiences, each of them had difficulty falling asleep. Hermione had the greatest difficulty, for there was something tickling her brain, some detail which she knew was important but failed to notice when it mattered. Finally, as sleep overtook her, she let the thought go and would not remember it again for quite some time – the image of the Sowilo rune which was thoroughly integrated into Pandora Lovegood's forbidden ritual, along with the haunting, nagging feeling that she'd seen the lightning-shaped rune of power somewhere else before.
The next chapter will be posted sometime between Monday, March 21 and Wednesday, March 23.
AN 1: I'm almost starting to feel bad for James Potter's seemingly neverending Humiliation Conga. And it's going to get worse before it ever gets better. Speaking of James, I've decided to recast the role because none of the three actors who played him at any stage of his life in the movies look the least bit like they could be the father of Daniel Radcliffe. Adrian Rawlins, in particular, couldn't pass for Harry Potter's dad if you saw him in a dark alley while wearing a ski mask. It doesn't help that he's at least ten years too old for the part, but then again, everyone who supposedly went to school in 1971 looks at least ten years to old for the part, so I guess that fits. Anyway, henceforth, the part of James Potter will be played by Jamie Dornan from "Fifty Shades of Grey," an actor who is good-lucking, has Potter hair, and somehow projects both charisma and complete obnoxiousness at the same time.
AN 2: There were at least half a dozen times when law enforcement officials should have been summoned to the castle, and yet they never showed up prior to OotP, when they were only there as part of an ill-fated coup attempt. In fact, compare the number of people at a Hogwarts Quidditch match to the typical American Friday night football game where a dozen local cops will typically be posted for crowd control and to break up fights and hooliganism. Since the PoS-verse assumes that characters are not dumb unless they have good reason to be, I assume there is at least a semi-intelligent reason to never have the aurors show up - namely, four god-wizards set it up that way a thousand years ago, and no one's been able to fix it. Plus, it ties in with that tension that's always been there between Hogwarts and the Ministry (for example, they can arbitrarily strip Dumbledore of both his major political offices but can't force him out of Hogwarts until events conspire to make him confess to treason). This also explains how there could be any meaningful student resistance in Year 7 - although Voldemort effectively controlled Hogwarts, his actual control was limited to just three faculty members (one of whom was Snape who was secretly against him) plus students loyal to his cause.
AN 3: In a similar vein, why did McGonagall talk about "closing down Hogwart" in such apocalyptic terms unless it would have to be shut down for a lengthy period of time. The sensible thing would have been to send every student home for Easter break and then let the aurors scour the castle, but obviously that wasn't possible. Why not?
AN 4: You didn't think I'd drop a wonderful title like "Anathema Codex" (first mentioned back in Chapter 23 of TSE) and never pick it up again, did you?
AN 5: UPDATED on 5/2/17 to tweak some dialogue and fix the "Lockhart's pensieve" plot hole that roughly 50 people have pointed out in reviews.