Chapter Four : Shadows Moving
Maeve walked into the classroom and received a bit of a shock: the Defence Against the Dark Arts room was set up totally unlike any of the other classrooms she had seen so far, with several long benches arranged against the sides and back of the room, cases and racks of weapons and armour along every wall, and a large open space before the teacher's desk. Professor Tsolakis looked up as she entered and smiled. Ah, Maeve. How was your first class?Not bad, I guess, she responded, digging in her bag as she walked up to the desk. She fished out the long, thin box Mr. Ollivander had sold her in Diagon Alley and placed it into Tsolakis' waiting hand; he opened it and examined the wand inside.
Cypress and unicorn hair, he murmured after a moment. A fine wand, very well-crafted. Too bad it wasn't the one for you. He lifted it from its packaging and examined it further, sighting down its length for straightness and flicking it experimentally. Oh, excellent. I'll be using this one today. Thank you, Maeve. He put the wand box away in a drawer in his desk. What class did you just have?Alchemy. Um, Potions.Oh? What do you think of Professor Snape? He didn't treat you too badly, did you?No, not at all. I thought he waswell, I don't know if I'd say nice', buterm, interesting', I suppose, would work. He's the head of Slytherin, right? But most of the Slytherin students didn't seem to like him.
Tsolakis chuckled. Well, yes, he is rather different ever since he got married. Maeve opened her mouth in surprise, about to inquire further, but the other students of Fataluma—and the first-year Gryffindors—began trickling into the room just then, and she went to grab a seat.
Professor Tsolakis said in a clear voice once everyone had settled, welcome to Defence Against the Dark Arts. I hope you enjoy this class; this is my first teaching job, he smiled modestly, and I'll be doing my best to instruct you in one of the most important subjects you will be studying here. I teach a practical approach to defending oneself against hostile magic and magic-users. You will not need your wands for most lessons. Many of the students looked at each other, bemused: How could a practical class be conducted without the casting of spells? Now, please, if you'll follow me, Tsolakis instructed, I'll show you where much of our teaching will take place. Take your things with you, as we won't be returning before the end of the period. He waited for everyone to rise from their seats and shuffle through the door, then followed them into the hall and locked the classroom door with his wand. This way, pleaseProfessor Tsolakis? one of the Gryffindors, a boy Maeve thought was named Caradoc, began. Where are weYou'll see, the teacher replied mildly, and Maeve was once again reminded that there was something inexplicably—and incomprehensibly—familiar about him.
Tsolakis led the students to a largish hall on the second floor, filled with even more armour and armaments than the classroom they had left behind. Most of it looked well-worn, and Maeve began to wonder: Was the professor's practical approach' to Defence Against the Dark Arts the teaching of martial skills? The thought concerned her slightly; she had never been particularly active in primary school, being the more bookish type, and while the idea of being able to wield a sword with the same proficiency as her favourite anime and video-game characters held a great deal of romanticist appeal, Maeve had no illusions that it was as easy as Xianghua or Deedlit made it seem.
Have a seat, Professor Tsolakis directed, gesturing at the benches along two walls, arranged so as to give an excellent view of the centre of the room. He tucked his wand through his belt and strode toward the front of the room. Maeve sat down next to Brian and Erica; the Fataluma and Gryffindor students had distributed themselves to either side of the room. Tsolakis turned round and seemed just about to begin an explanation, when suddenly a figure emerged from the wall behind him; Maeve realised instantly that it must be the school poltergeist, Peeves, that Ginny and others had mentioned. Peeves paused, apparently surprised that there were people in the room, but then seemed to decide he didn't care; Tsolakis, on the other hand, whirled around, pulling a necklace from beneath his robes, and cried something in what Maeve assumed was Greek. There was a great flash of white light; Peeves let out a shriek and fled back through the wall he had come. Professor Tsolakis let go of the chain of his necklace and slowly turned back to face the students, looking chagrined.
he said, Sorry about thatreflex, you knowWhat did you DO? asked Wesley Feldon, his eyes wide. Many other students seemed, like him, to have been highly impressed by what they had just seen, judging by the excited murmurs now being shot back and forth.
Professor Tsolakis cleared his throat. I reacted instinctively to the presence of an undead creature, he explained abashedly. Had I stopped to think, I would have noticed that it was a harmless poltergeist and in no need of turning.You can turn undead? Maeve asked; the question was out of her mouth before she could stop herself. Tsolakis seemed surprised that she knew what he was talking about, but she plowed on ahead. Will you be teaching us how to do that?
He sighed. No, I'm afraid not. The turning of undead is White magic, and as such, it requires a fair amount of religion-related study—something which, to be honest, has no place in a school dedicated to the teaching of arcane magicks.What? There are more kinds of magic besides normal magic and the Dark Arts? one of the Gryffindor students asked; everyone was now very interested. Professor Tsolakis glanced around the room, saw how intently everyone was watching, and sighed again.
Yes, indeed there are, he explained, though as you'll be studying only one type here, there is no need to delve into a detailed explanation of all five kinds. Yes— he put up his hands to quell the rising murmurs— there are five general types of magic, each drawn from a different source of power. Tucking his amulet (Maeve couldn't make out the design engraved on it, she was sitting too far away) back into his robes, he went on, The most common kind used by human witches and wizards is most commonly known as Arcane magic. It draws its power from an invisible and omnipresent force which is called, simply, the Mana-force'. It and the Life-force', which gives its power to the branch of magic sometimes referred to as Druidic, are energies native to this plane of existence, and are, therefore, the easiest to tap into for those with the talent. He glanced around. Yes, there are other planes of existence besides this one, alternate dimensions' if you will, but this class is no place to discuss them in detail. However, from and through these alternate planes flow the other three types of mystical energy: White magic, Black magic, and Planar or Shamanic magic.Ooh, Shamanic? Maeve repeated, excited. You mean like the Ra Tilt in Slayers?
Professor Tsolakis smiled. Sounds like somebody's an anime fan. Nodding, he went on, The Shamanic, Druidic, and Arcane disciplines of magic are neutral: They care not how they are used, and their users can channel them however they please without any difference one way or another. Black and White magic, on the other hand, emanate from forces in the Multiverse beyond human comprehension. Evil and Good, respectively. Everyone's faith is a personal choice, a personal understanding, and it is nearly impossible to force a rapport with or comprehension of such powers—which is why we will not be studying either White or Black magic here, he repeated firmly. White magic is more powerful than Black, but requires great devotion and perseverance. Black magic seems easy—easier, even, than Arcane magic at times—but this is only an illusion. One who is seduced by the thrill of Black magic becomes addicted, corrupted, and so is drawn even further into the trap to continue the vicious cycle. He looked around at all the students, his face solemn. Most religions, and even most atheists, frown on the use of Black magic. asked Miranda Carter, down the bench from Maeve, raising her hand shyly. When we talk about Dark magicor Dark wizards, like You-Know-Whois thatBlack magic?
Tsolakis regarded her for a moment. he answered. Even the three Unforgivable Curses, which guarantee a lifetime imprisonment in Azkaban if used on another human being, are only Arcane magic. Most other Dark spells are likewise Dark only because of their association with cruelty and malice. Then he cleared his throat. We could go into much greater detail, but as I said, that is not the aim of this class. He raised one hand. Accio Astrapê! A hefty sword hung on the wall behind him soared through the air in his direction, the hilt landing firmly in his palm. The aim of this class is to teach you how to defend yourselves from practitioners of Dark magic. Grasping the sword in both hands, he spread his feet and held his weapon at the ready, continuing, By Christmas, each of you should have no trouble executing moves such as the Hunting Heron— he jabbed the blade forward with surprising speed— Blackbirds Taking Flight— he swung the sword back and forth, reminding Maeve of one of Nightmare's moves in the game Soulcalibur II— and Autumn Leaves. He spun in a circle, the blade flashing around him in a deadly spiral and leaving trails of lightning in its wake. Many students made noises of awe and clapped, impressed. Standing at ease, he gestured behind him with one hand. You'll find practise swords in the racks along the front wall. Don't worry about hurting anybody—they've been enchanted to deal no damage, though I would not recommend he turned to fix a pair of Gryffindor boys with a reprimanding glare as they playfully beat each other with the sword-shaped sticks— abusing that property. You will have plenty of opportunity for practise. Now, if you'll line up in front of me
The next several minutes were used for stretches and warmups, all of which bored Maeve intensely, but she was glad she had done them when the period ended—swinging a sword had made her arms and shoulders sorer than she had ever remembered them being, even the previous year when she had had a bad bout of flu, and she didn't want to think of how it would be if she hadn't stretched.
That was brill, Erica gushed, as they headed off for a double period of Illusion, their last class before lunch break. Professor Tsolakis is so cool! Do you think he'll bring in monsters for us to practise on?
Maeve laughed nervously. I doubt it, we'll probably just stick to combat dummies Miranda Carter mused, I bet it wouldn't be too hard for a powerful wizard to bewitch creatures not to hurt us so they could help students trainWell, that'd be kind of mean, wouldn't it? Brian Strong asked her, walking by. Making a monster your friend just so kids like us could beat on it?
Maeve, always a fast walker, was the first in the classroom. Ivy (dressed in flowing robes that reminded Maeve of the traditional Jedi knight gear in Star Wars) was there, of course, being the teacher, but Maeve hadn't expected to see her talking to the handsome black-haired man that had accompanied Harry Potter into the Great Hall. Maeve didn't know the man's name, but what was odder was that he didn't know (or was pretending not to know) that Ivy was blatantly flirting with him. Maeve stopped, slightly embarrassed, and turned to leave; this probably wasn't something she should barge in on Ivy said, noticing her and looking surprised. Crap, is it that time already? She tossed back a sleeve and glanced at her wristwatch. Damn! It is. I have to teach soon She looked up at the dark-haired fellow, clearly torn between duty and desire. I hate toOh, I completely understand, he said agreeably, hopping down from where he had been seated roguishly on her desktop and tucking a book under his arm. You're a teacher, after allyou've got things to dowouldn't want to keep your students waiting He nodded in Maeve's direction as she moved toward a desk; the other Fataluma students, and the first-year Ravenclaws, began filtering into the room. Thanks for the book, he said to Ivy. Later, then Ivy agreed, watching him go with mild despair visible on her face. One of the Ravenclaw girls nearly crashed into him as he exited the room, and let out a shriek.
Oh, my God—Sirius Black! she squealed, dropping her bookbag and turning to flee. He jumped back, startled, and one of the girl's friends burst out laughing.
Come off it, Elaine! He's innocent, it was all over the Daily Prophet—don't you remember? she asked, picking up the bag and handing it to her classmate.
Elaine returned to the room, looking flustered and very embarrassed. of course she murmured, pointedly avoiding everyone's gaze as she took back her books and headed for a seat.
Ivy hovered at the head of the classroom, then cleared her throat when everyone had found a seat. she said, smoothing her robes, now, then Illusion She cast about for her spear, snatched it up from where it was leaning against the desk, and made a sweeping gesture in the air. An image, looking real but for its small size, formed on her desk; Maeve recognised it (and, she surmised, she was probably the only one who did) as a Tauren from World of Warcraft, a race similar to minotaurs; it stood there for a moment and then burst into dance, one of the commands a character could be given in the game. Maeve tittered; it was always amusing to watch a hulking cow-headed humanoid lightheartedly bopping and shuffling back and forth. Ivy twitched her free hand, and music filled the air: The theme from the movie Neverending Story, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. The illusory Tauren on the desk changed his dance to match the song's rhythm. All of the students were highly intrigued at this point, and Ivy smiled, seeing the attentive faces fixed on her work. Illusion is a broad category of magic. It is mainly concerned with altering the perceptions of other creatures, which may at first seem limited in its scope, but you've just seen two very different effects. The music faded away. There are many kinds of spell effects that can be accomplished by an experienced illusionist. As you might assume, the easiest is creating a false image, like Redmark here. She gestured at the Tauren, who waved at the students; several of them chuckled. But since the school of Illusion can extend to influencing any one—or more—of the target's senses, it can have far more subtle effects: Changing someone's attitude, projecting a particular self-image into someone's mind, or even creation of half-real objects formed from the interplay of light and shadow. She raised her spear; Redmark the Tauren disappeared, and Ivy chanted, Expecto Patronum! A great silver griffin, shining and semi-insubstantial, appeared on the desk where Redmark had been standing. It let out a cry from its eagle's beak and spread its wings majestically, then dissolved into silver vapour. The Patronus Charm, for example, Ivy explained to the awestruck students, is an example of an illusory half-construct. There is some debate as to whether it and similar spells belong to the school of Illusion or to Conjuration, which is concerned with the summoning or creation of physical matter. I've always classified it as Illusion, since it's only semi-real and non-permanent. She looked toward the back of the class. Yes? Question?
A shy-looking Ravenclaw boy lowered his hand. So we're going to learn to conjure Patronuses in this class? Like Harry Potter can do?
Ivy smiled. Well, not right away, I'm afraid, she responded, and some disappointed murmurs shot through the students. It's a difficult spell to cast, and requires some understanding of the basic magical theory behind it first. But yes, eventually.
The spell Ivy set them to practising for the first period involved creating tiny illusory frogs. This task was surprisingly difficult, much more so than it had sounded; many students could barely conjure a still-life image, much less cause it to hop across the desk. Maeve stared down at her insubstantial amphibian, willing it to move, and it grudgingly gave a hop, then another. After a few minutes, she was able to race it across the desk, where it crashed headlong into Erica's frog, which was also capable of sustained movement. Erica's frog opened its mouth, but no sound came out.
Oh, it doesn't croak! she cried. Ivy swept over to the desk and examined the spell.
Oh, well done, Erica, she said. And whose is this one? Maeve raised her hand. Also well-done. Yes, it's harder to combine sound and visual effects than to do either one separately, the teacher explained. Keep at it, though. Erica was nervously tapping her thumbnails together, something Maeve realised must be one of her tics, and the frequency of her ticcing increased with her frustration level; neither of them could get their frogs to make noise, try though they might.
Maeve said, it's like a silent movie
Erica laughed. No, no, this is like a silent movie and her frog illusion sprouted a Charlie Chaplin-style moustache, a stovepipe hat, and began to hop around jerkily as if trapped in a film that was missing frames. Maeve burst out laughing as well, and a few other students around them noticed the scene and joined in watching and laughing, their own frogs forgotten. A light jingling noise caught Maeve's attention; Ivy's fluffy white cat, wearing a red collar with a tiny bell, had hopped up onto the end of the desk, and his eyes fixed on Erica's illusion. He crouched down, eyes wide, and dashed for the little frog; Maeve made her frog jump out of the way as the cat pounced, and heard it let out a terrified croak. Erica's frog squeaked—or maybe that was her—as the cat's paws came down upon it, which only confused the cat, since its paws went right through the image. Ivy, striding amongst the desks, noticed the cat and rushed over.
she scolded, scooping him up. Don't disrupt the students' spellwork! Dumping him on the floor, she grabbed her spear and pointed the business end at the ground, where a tiny red dot like a laser pointer appeared. The cat seemed more interested in chasing that, leaving Maeve and Erica to recover their illusions.
Did you hear mine croak? Maeve asked proudly as they headed for lunch an hour later.
I think mine made some kind of noise, Brian said, but it wasn't a croakNeither was my frog's noise, Larissa muttered. It sounded like something I wouldn't want to be heard saying in front of my parents.What, your illusions swear too? Erica giggled, and Larissa rolled her eyes but smiled. Maeve's eyes went to the Slytherin table as they entered the Great Hall: Carlota, tall for her age and with a great black bird perched on one shoulder, wasn't hard to pick out. She noticed, however, that the other students of that House didn't seem to be regarding Carlota with the same disgust they had before: A few of them were exchanging whispers among themselves, occasionally stealing a curious—or was that fearful?—glance at the black-haired girl. This sudden change seemed suspicious to Maeve, but she wouldn't have time to ask her friend about it: They weren't allotted much time for lunch, and she was starving.
The afternoon's classes were, unfortunately, nowhere near as interesting as the morning's. Directly after lunch was History of Magic, taught by a ghost teacher with a voice so droning and soporific that it would have been extremely difficult to stay awake even when not full and sleepy after a big meal. Then was Charms, most of which involved moving and levitating small objects, and Enchantment; Maeve was happy to see Miss Apollonia (or rather, as she realised she must call her, Professor Frye) again, but was disappointed that they wouldn't be practising actual magic until the next lesson. After a day of rushing from one end of the castle to the other, and stretching her brain to control magical energies she hadn't known existed even a few short months ago, Maeve was glad to collapse in the Fataluma common room after dinner that night, not even noticing at first that several older students were there as well.
Oh, hello, Erica said to a skinny girl with long dirty-blonde hair, seated in a winged armchair and deeply immersed in a magazine, which Maeve saw was titled The Quibbler. You read The Quibbler? Can I borrow that copy when you're done? said the older girl in a dreamy distracted voice, lowering the magazine. She was wearing a necklace of what looked like corks, all strung together, her wand was tucked behind one ear, and she had wide misty eyes that bulged so as to make her look permanently surprised. Oh, hello. I suppose you're a first-year.Um, yes, Erica said, sticking out her hand. Erica Stottlemeyer. Did you get re-Sorted? the other said dreamily; it was hard to tell if her attention was fully on the conversation, or still elsewhere. I'm Luna Lovegood. She looked down at Erica's proferred hand. Nothing personal, but I've just been reading about Invisible Microgurpsies, and if you have them, I wouldn't want to catch any. Of course, it's just as likely I have them, in which case I wouldn't want to infect you, either She raised the magazine back to her face and continued reading; a bronze-skinned, auburn-haired girl at a table behind her covered her mouth with one hand to stifle a giggle.
Maeve grunted, leaning over to dig in her bag, I can't believe we have homework on the first day! At least it shouldn't be too hard Riffling through the pieces of parchment, she happened to grab the Marauder's Map Harry had given her; curiosity suddenly stole through her, completely overwhelming her sense of duty. It wasn't that much homework, after allUm, I'll be back, she muttered to no-one in particular, hurrying to the dormitory, which was, unsurprisingly, empty this early in the evening. Maeve flopped across her bed and lay out the Map, activated it, and watched as the lines of ink spread out across the surface of the parchment. To her surprise, however, something different happened than when Harry had demonstrated it; the seven floors depicted on the map slid together, then rose up in a tiny, three-dimensional rendering of the castle. Each dot, representing a person, was still labelled, but now it was much easier to track where people were going. Why hadn't Harry shown her this? Ah, well. She looked around, occasionally rotating the Map to examine it from a better angle, and noticed that a room in one of the towers was full of people; a legend on one transparent wall read Gryffindor Common Room, and as she remembered the scene in the Great Hall that morning, she realised that the students there must be having a party to celebrate Harry and Ginny's engagement. Sure enough, one of the black dots was labelled Harry Potter, and was right next to the one noted as Ginny Weasley; the writing overlapped slightly, so it was hard to read the names. Maeve could only imagine what they were doing in such close proximity. Nearby were dots with the names Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Nymphadora Tonks; they were the three adults that accompanied Harry as a sort of honour guard. The dot for Tonks was odd, though—no matter how it moved, it seemed it was always overlapping another, smaller dot, labelled in writing too small to make out easily. Maeve peered at it, trying to decipher the name; she wished she had a magnifying glass, and just as she thought this, the view on the map seemed to zoom in, bringing the area into greater detail. She noticed that each of the ink dots was actually a very tiny animated drawing of a person, and that Tonks' dot was overlapping another; it seemed, in fact to be surrounding it: A miniscule figure, still almost too tiny to see, and Maeve could finally read the name attached to it: Nina Lupin-Tonks
Nina Lupin-Tonks? Maeve exclaimed, feeling as embarrassed as if she had just caught an accidental glimpse of someone undressing. Tonks was pregnant, Maeve realised guiltily, and probably didn't even know. It was none of her business
But if she didn't know Maeve picked up her wand, cleared the Map, and folded it up to stash it under her pillows. She had to tell Tonksif she and Lupin were concerned about having children, they needed to know
Maeve rushed out of the common room and down the hall, nearly running into Ivy as she rounded a corner. Ivy—! Um, I mean, Professor Valentine, she corrected herself, I need to get to the Gryffindor common room. Can you help me find it?Gryffindor common room? Ivy asked, her brows drawing together; Maeve realised, with another surge of guilt, that Ivy knew Sirius was there. I—I have to talk to Tonks, she explained quickly. all right, Ivy agreed, still looking slightly suspicious. It's this wayI was almost Head of Gryffindor; did you know that? Ivy asked as she and Maeve swept down a long hallway, Ivy's robes swishing elegantly. I mean, Professor McGonagall gave me the job and everything, but then Mab came and Ivy trailed off; a strange, misty look had filled her eyes. Why do I feel like I know her? she murmured to herself; Maeve didn't answer.
Yes, here, Ivy said a few minutes later, stopping in front of a painting of a very fat lady in a pink satin dress. The password's Begonia I'll see you later, Maeve—I've just remembered somethingI've got to do she muttered distractedly, spinning round and hurrying off as the painting swung open to reveal an oval hole in the wall. Several of the students looked up, pausing in their merriment, with confused expressions on their faces.
Maeve called out, climbing into the room. Sorry to interrupt, but I've got to— She had the briefest flash of a vivid pink head weaving through the crowd toward her, and then the common room had disappeared abruptly; instead, she was standing in a dark forest, the stars hidden through a thick canopy of trees, and the normal sounds of a late-summer night sounding distant and faint. The barest of breezes stirred the ancient thick litter on the ground, and then there was a blinding flash of light that expanded into a round portal; through it stepped two tall, slender, elflike people, linked arm in arm, and Maeve could see others like them in the background, framed by an odd unearthly light that she thought she had seen beforeOhh, disgusting, said the woman, with long emerald hair and darkly-glittering violet eyes; Maeve knew, somehow, that she wasn't speaking in English, but could understand her nonetheless. Why is it so warm and humid here now?We left as Earth was coming out of an Ice Age, Khativa, responded the man, with hair of deepest sable and a silken mask over the left half of his face; the eye on that side, if that was what was really there, glowed with an eerie gold light. Of course it would be warmerWell, I don't like it, Khativa pouted, her six-inch-long ears drooping. Let's make it colder again—No, no, not yet! her partner urged, guiding her to one side so that another elfin man, leading a leashed beast that looked to be made of obsidian and green light (like a Dark creature from Phantasy Star Online, a tiny voice deep in Maeve's mind said in quiet horror) through the portal; it raised its featureless head as if sniffing the air, and opened a previously-invisible orifice to let out a weird, baying cryWhat was that?! came a voice from above Maeve's head; she opened her eyes and saw that Remus Lupin had spoken. He was standing above her, along with Tonks and Ginny and Harry and Sirius, and as Maeve's senses returned, she realised she was lying in a narrow, plain bed in the infirmary. Maeve sat bolt-upright, which she regretted immediately; there was a sharp pain in her head, as if she had hit it on something. The others around her had been looking toward the window, frozen as if in shock, and all jumped back as one when she sat up.
Hey, now, Ginny said, trying to push her back into a lying position, not so fast! How are you feeling? A harried-looking witch in a nurse's cap came bustling toward them just then, pushing among the adults, holding a goblet of something that was steaming.
Here, now, she directed, shoving the cup at Maeve, drink this. Maeve took it and gingerly sipped the hot liquid inside as the nurse examined her, waving her wand like a sensor. What happened?I don't know, Maeve admitted, drinking more of the potion; it didn't taste very good, but was oddly satisfying. I—I went to the Gryffindor common room to talk to Ms. Tonks—she— Tonks looked down at her expectantly, but Maeve stopped: She didn't want to say what she knew in front of everybody. Um, well, I was kind of hoping to talk to her in private—Yes, yes, later, the nurse urged. Then what? Do you remember anything else? Maeve answered. Well, yes—the room seemed to disappear, and I was standing in a forestthere were people there, some kind of elf-people, and they were talking about They don't like it here—it's too warm— The scene she had just witnessed seemed oddly slippery, now, like it had been a dream she could just barely remember. She shook her head. I don't know! What happened? Why am I here?It's all right, Madam Pomfrey, Harry told the nurse-witch, taking the goblet from Maeve. Can we talk to her for a moment? Madam Pomfrey cast him an exasperated look, but bustled off to another bed, in which lay someone who appeared to have a bunch of flowers growing from the tip of his nose.
You gave us a bit of a shock, Tonks explained quietly, as Ginny pulled the curtains round the bed to shield them all from view. Bursting into the Gryffindor common room like that—incidentally, I don't know how you got the password—Ivy knew it, she let me in Maeve muttered, waving a hand.
—and you called for me and just collapsed, Tonks finished, looking very worried. It—it was really weird. Your eyes just sort of unfocussed and you fellAnd I knew, right away, that something was going on, Harry put in. Things like that used to happen to me You said it looked like the common room just disappeared? And there were people?Yeah. What, you think I'm hallucinating or something? she asked, beginning to feel irritated.
No, no—I think you had some kind of vision, he assuaged her. I used to have them, occasionally, when Voldemort was still alive This, and he brushed back his fringe and showed her a faint lightning bolt-shaped scar, is what happened when he tried to kill me when I was only a year old—his curse backfired, as you've probably heard by now, he lost all his power, and there was some sort of connection forged between us—I would have dreams sometimes that showed events he was participating in, I could know what he was planning All that stopped, of course, once he died, he went on, but I'm starting to wonder if maybe you have some kind of similar connection to somethingYour parents are Muggles, though, aren't they? Lupin asked Maeve. You don't have the same kind of history that Harry, here, had Still, I can't help agreeing that he might be onto something. Did anyone in yourlook familiar?I didn't recognise any of them, she said (out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Sirius twitch and glance over his shoulder), but I did get the feeling that what was happening was very familiarAnd where did you say this happened? In a forest? Lupin pressed.
Yes, it wasit was a really dense forest, and it was nighttime, so I couldn't see much of the surroundings One of the windows in the ward was open, and through it, Maeve heard a noise that made her blood suddenly run cold. Oh, my God—what was thatI couldn't tell you, Lupin said, looking worried, and Sirius tossed aside the privacy curtains and stalked to the window, gazing out onto the grounds.
It sounded like it was coming from the Forbidden Forest, he muttered. Can't be a werewolf, thoughwrong time of the month Tonks suddenly burst out giggling, but fell silent again almost immediately. Maeve was rather glad of the sudden mood change, actually; here everyone was treating her like a terminally-ill person, and then Sirius had to go and say a thing like that. And that noisethat cry she whispered. I heard it in my visiondream—thing. There was some kind of beast—it was all black and glowy, like a Ruins monster in PSO, not that any of you know what I'm talking about—but it was held on a leash by one of the elf-people, and it
Sirius swooped back to the bedside. When you say he said quietly, do you mean tallwith long thin ears that stick out from the sides of their heads? he asked, holding out his hands to show what he meant. Maeve nodded. My God, he whispered, the Fey Lupin repeated. Sirius, what do you know about all this?
Sirius had an odd, glazed look in his eyes, then shook his head. I don't know, actually, he said. Not sure why I even knew thatweird, really weird The door to the infirmary burst open, and Ivy stood in the doorway, framed by the light in the hall. Her face was pale and streaked with sweat, and her chest was heaving as though she had run a mile.
she whispered hoarsely, as another alien howl floated through the window, followed by what sounded like the terrified scream of a full-grown man. The Fey They're back