The Welshman
by Hyena Cub
Rating: PG-13 for violence, language, and death, especially later on.
Genre: Harry Potter

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CHAPTER 17: A New Quest

I began my new Quest the next day. I hadn't a name for it, but it was a Quest all the same. Whenever I had free time, when I wasn't practicing or doing homework, or causing mischief with my friends, I was in that wonderful Room of Requirement, researching the history of my little coin. I had hoped for something when I went to that room and asked for help in identifying my coin, but what I got exceeded all of my expectations.

For just a moment, when I first walked in, I thought that perhaps I had made a mistake and walked into the school library, but that wasn't the case. It wasn't as big as the Hogwarts library, but infinitely more useful for what I wanted. There were half a dozen bookshelves inside, with dozens of books mostly relating to old coins and the history of wizarding England in the time period of the day on my replica coin. I noticed a shelf full of books about Dark wizards, which puzzled me a bit, but I didn't mind at all; they looked very interesting.

In the corner was a stand with a huge, old tome on it of the Weasley family history, dating back to before the Dark Ages. I wasn't quite sure what our family had to do with it all, but there it was.

'Brilliant,' I whispered, unable to do anything for the moment except stare in awe.

Once I was over my shock, I went straight for the old tome, grabbing the stool that sat nearby, sitting on it as I opened the book. Curious, I turned first to the most recent pages, looking in astonishment at the names of my mother and father, and their brothers and sisters. My brothers and I weren't there, and I figured that we were too recent in the history for anyone to have recorded.

I never even got to the coin books that day; I was too immersed in the family tree I had found. I never knew just how big the Weasley clan was until I read that book, gazing at name upon name across hundreds of pages. Each name had a brief biography, including siblings, parents, children, and spouses…if any. There were those who were marked in green ink, an indication that they had been a Dark witch or wizard.

For a moment I was shocked that our family had Dark wizards in it, but then I felt a bit silly for assuming that none of these hundreds of people could have gone bad. Reading about all these people I was related to, if somewhat distantly, was immensely interesting. So interesting, in fact, that I was late for curfew that night.

As I realized how late it was, I finally tore myself away from the book, cursing myself for having lost track of time, and ran for Gryffindor Tower. Unfortunately, I met up with Professor Melville right outside the Fat Lady's portrait, and she took twenty points from Gryffindor. And she gave me a detention. I was calling her all sorts of rude names when I got up to the dorms.

After that, I began bringing an alarm clock in with me, so I couldn't make that mistake again!

What I found in that room was fascinating, and a little frightening. For the time being, I stuck with the family tree, going back so far that all of a sudden in a session near the end of April, I wasn't looking at Weasleys, but Wesleys. I blinked, thinking the person who had written the book must have missed out a letter, but as I turned back, more and more names were spelled 'Wesley.' Around the year 1300, I found a notation indicating that the family name had been misspelled a few times, giving it the 'Weasley' spelling, and that subsequent generations had kept the alternate spelling in. I knew that at one point in Britain, spelling was a very anomalous thing, vaguely reflecting the phonetics of a word. Apparently someone thought that 'Weasley' sounded the same as 'Wesley', and so our family name was changed forever.

I was kind of glad; Weasley was more interesting.

'But that means….' I whispered, standing up and digging in my pocket for my tricoin. I held the coin up to the lamp hanging from the ceiling: Creirwy Wesley. 'This was minted by a member of my family!'

With renewed vigour, I began paging through the names, searching for a Creirwy Wesley, beginning with the year 1193 and going back from there. When I finally found the name I was looking for, I stared: the name was in green ink. I picked the tricoin up once more, holding it up and looking at it…the person that had minted the original coin had been a Dark witch!

When I traced her lineage, I found a yet more disturbing thing: I was in her direct line. I lost track of how many generations had gone by, but from her, to her children, and from parent to child the entire way, I was a direct descendant of her. It was an odd and disturbing coincident, that I had this coin replica. I was beginning to think more and more that it was no replica.

'Well,' I murmured. 'That explains that Dark magic books.'

I told my friends about what I had found out, explaining about the book and about the other things that were in that room. Arcturus, more than the others, sympathized about my having a Dark mage in the family. His whole family was full of those!

Over the next few weeks, whenever I had a chance, I went into that room and read about Creirwy Wesley, to figure out just what she had done to earn herself a name in green ink. And the more I read, the more I realized the question more easily answered was what hadn't she done? Voldemort was probably more vicious and evil than her…but not by much. And he hadn't gotten much of a chance to do half the evil things this woman had done.

She had murdered several key Muggle leaders in England, kicking off a period so rife with civil war it was known as The Anarchy. She murdered the head of the Wizards' Council (the precursor to the ministry of Magic) and most of his loyal followers, allowing her to put her own people within the government; that was one of the worst periods in history for Muggle-born and half-blood wizards, building on the pure-blood mania that Salazaar Slytherin himself had begun and which persisted until nearly the turn of the twenty-first century. I was astonished to find she had been the creator of one of the Unforgivable Curses, a set of three curses considered the worst among wizarding kind: the Killing Curse, the Imperius Curse, and the Cruciatus Curse…that last being a curse that inflicted such unspeakable pain that prolonged application could drive the victim into permanent madness. And, of course, that just happened to be the one she'd invented…I thought it might even have been nmed after her. 'Cruciatus' and 'Creirwy' looked a bit too much alike to be coincidence.

But the worst thing she'd done, at last the one that seems to have caused the most suffering, was the conquest of Ireland by the Normans. Dermot MacMurrough had been Creirwy Wesley's right-hand man, helping to carry out several of her vilest orders. When he was ousted as the king of Ireland, cast out when it was discovered that he was a wizard (which they considered at that time to be a spawn of hell), they went to King Henry the Second, of England. It was only a matter of a few well-placed Imperius Curses to ensure the might of the royal armies was set against Ireland, implementing English rule over the country.

It was horrifying and fascinating at the same time…but it didn't give me any more insight as to what that coin of mine might be based off of. But as the end of the school year began to loom ever closer, the times I could come in and research were less and less.

The Quidditch finals were at the end of May, but Gryffindor hadn't made it that far…the match was between Hufflepuff and Slytherin, and though Hufflepuff won it, I couldn't make myself be too ecstatic about it—I had wanted badly to at least play in the finals. Sekhmet suggested transporting the Slytherin team to Siberia, and I admit the idea had some merit, but it was a moot point: the finals were already over. Aldora hadn't taken it too well, either; she'd hardly spoke a word since we lost that last game to Ravenclaw.

Ke'koa's team had their finals the next week, against Hufflepuff also, and they didn't win, either. Apparently it was Hufflepuff's year for broom sports.

After Quidditch, there were exams to study for, and then the exams themselves. It bothered me, knowing there was a whole room full of information in there for me to peruse at my leisure…and not have any leisure with which to peruse! I couldn't wait for the end of exams, when I would have a whole week without classes, sports, or tests.

The tests themselves weren't too bad…no worse than usual, anyway. My best by far was Defence, and I got top marks in that. Charms was probably my least, because of the teacher; it was difficult to learn anything from a woman I hated. Though History of Magic was a close second. Still, all of us managed to pass our exams. Unfortunately, the Moor twins and their little friends passed, too. The lot of us always hope each year that by some strange miracle, they'd fail all their exams and have to leave school…or at least stay back a grade where we wouldn't have to deal with them as much!

And then…freedom. The first couple of days after exams we spent outside, enjoying the bright sunshine, swimming in the lake, and revelling in the lack of classes. It wasn't until the third day that I tried to get into the Room…and it didn't appear. I thought that maybe I was doing it wrong, but I tried several times, and still couldn't get in. I was puzzled, but no one had any suggestions, other than to try later. I was annoyed, but it was the only thing I could do.

It wasn't until two days before term ended that I was able to get back into the Room, and I was pretty sure I was only able to do it because I snuck out at night, when I assumed everyone else was sleeping. Again glad that the Room of Requirement and the entrance to Gryffindor Tower were on the same floor, I snuck along the deserted corridors towards the blank hallway across from old Barnabas and his trolls.

I need to research the coin, I thought as I paced along the hallway. I need to research Creirwy's coin.

I half expected the room to be shut to me, as usual, but I was in for a pleasant surprise; the now-familiar lines began appearing on the wall, as if drawn by an invisible quill, marking the outline of the door. When it solidified into wood, I grinned and grasped the handle.

When I stepped inside, I saw the lamps were lit as always, but the book with the Weasley family tree was open. That was odd; it had never been opened before when I entered; it was always neatly closed. I didn't think too much of it at first; maybe there was something the Room felt I needed to see.

I took a step forward, and suddenly a shape loomed in front of me, and my chest tightened suddenly, painfully, in alarm. I gave a startled yell, heard a curse, and stumbled backwards several steps until I collided lightly into the wall behind me. There was someone else inside!

My first reaction was to run, but as the figure also took a step back and his face came into the lamplight, I saw it was one of the teachers…Professor O'Malley…who taught Muggle Studies. It was too much to hope for that he would not have recognized me. I wondered wildly if he'd been here waiting for me, knowing somehow that I was going to break the rules, but as I got a good look at him I realized that he was almost as shocked at seeing me as I had been of seeing him.

'P-professor O'Malley!' I managed to stutter. 'Er, I…I can explain.'

'Can you?' said Professor O'Malley, taking a big breath. His eyes were still wide, but now he looked more angry than surprised. I wasn't entirely sure I liked it. The Room seemed suddenly to be much more sinister than usual, the lamplight casting long shadows from the shelves, shadows that danced eerily on the ceiling and walls. 'How interesting that you managed to get in here.'

I blinked, a little puzzled by the statement. 'Er…sir?' I said.

O'Malley looked me over for a moment, and I felt the urge to squirm uncomfortably…though I stayed the urge. 'Yes, interesting…you know you can't get into this Room while another person is using it…unless you intend to use it for the same thing.'

I gaped at him for I don't know how long…was that why I hadn't been able to get into the Room? Had someone else been using it for something else? Another thought occurred to me, also; if what he said was true…then Professor O'Malley was in here researching my family tree…or the coin…or both. And what's more, he knew that I was doing the same. 'You…you're looking up my family?' I finally managed to ask, taking a step closer to the door.

O'Malley frowned, then suddenly looked furious with himself, and I realized he hadn't meant to expose his own intentions. 'I think I should be the one asking the questions, Mr Weasley. Beginning with how you found out about this Room.'

The answer to that was complicated, and I wasn't sure I wanted to give it. Professor O'Malley was looking downright alarming, and all of a sudden I very much wanted to be out of the Room and back in Gryffindor Tower. 'Sir, I…I think I should be getting bac--'

I hadn't so much finished the sentence, when Professor O'Malley took two large, sudden steps forward, grabbed my by the lapel of my pyjamas, and pulled me so that we were nearly nose to nose. 'Answer me, Weasley!' he snarled.

My heart, which had begun to calm down, began pumping hard again, and I began to get scared; this just wasn't normal! What was I supposed to do? I stammered for a minute, trying to find words, before I managed to say, 'P-Professor Forrester mentioned it! We figured the rest out ourselves!' Not completely honest, but I wasn't about to go into the whole thing, not to this madman!

O'Malley narrowed his eyes and let go of my pyjamas, taking a step back and sneering. 'Forrester, that--'

But I didn't stick around to hear what he had to say. The second his hands left my clothing, I lunged for the door, taking five sprint-steps and nearly leaping at the doorhandle.

'Colloportus!' cried O'Malley, as I twisted the doorknob, letting a growl of fearful anger when the doorhandle didn't budge; whatever O'Malley had said, it had locked the door tight. 'We're not done, Weasley!'

I dashed away from the door, ducking behind one of the shelves, listening hard, trying to swallow the panic that threatened to completely lose my mind for me. I saw the flickering shadow that belonged to Professor O'Malley move towards me, and I retreated further, behind the last of the bookshelves. 'What do you want?'

'Just a bit of information, Weasley,' said O'Malley, his tone calm again. 'Why don't we sit down for a bit and talk? Once we've finished our conversation like civilised gentlemen, you can go on back to Gryffindor Tower. You won't even get detention. How's that sound?'

It was vaguely tempting; I didn't know why my family should suddenly be a hot topic with the Muggle Studies teacher, but I didn't really know anything that couldn't be found in these books. If it got me out of this….

But there was something about it I didn't like. He wasn't acting like a teacher, and I was pretty sure that how he'd treated me thus far would be frowned on by the board of governors. Why would he just…let me leave? 'I-I think I'd rather go now, Professor,' I managed to squeak out. It wasn't easy; my throat felt tight and I was breathing so fast with fear I was afraid I'd faint.

O'Malley's voice was low and grimly amused. 'Oh, but you don't have a choice. Reducto!'

The bookcase beside me suddenly exploded into splinters, and I yelled in both pain and shock as several of them stuck into my skin or scraped it as they flew by. I squeezed my eyes shut, ducking as if it was a really large bludger was hurtling at my head, and scrambled out of the way, scurrying to the opposite end of the room. I couldn't believe this; I couldn't believe I was being attacked by a teacher! He was bloody insane, he had to be! I grimaced as he turned his wand on the other shelves, obliterating them, then blasted the stand on which the Weasley Family Tome sat.

Gods, I need help! I thought desperately. I stood, my muscles quivering, ready to move in a split second if I had to, every nerve in my body jangling. But O'Malley did not attack again, he only regarded me calmly from the other side of the room; now that all the possible items of cover were now in hundreds of pieces on the floor, he seemed content to stay his wand for the moment.

'Now,' said O'Malley pleasantly, as if we were just sitting down to tea. 'This coin your ancestor minted….'

I swallowed hard; maybe I could bluff myself out of this. 'What—what coin?' I managed to ask, my voice sounding high and strained in my ears.

O'Malley chuckled. ''What coin' you say? Did you forget, already? That you got in here while I was in here means that you came here searching for the same thing. Let's not pretend anymore? I have only a small amount of patience, you see.'

His words were still calm, but the threat behind them was evident. 'I-I was…I've been in here researching my family tree.' I nodded shakily to the large book now lying open on the floor, its pages squished beneath its weight. That had to sound at least plausible…didn't it? 'The Room always looks like this.'

'Oh? Just like this?' murmured O'Malley, taking a step forward. I clenched my fists, taking a step to the side, but he didn't approach me; in fact he was looking on the ground. 'Yes I see… Dark magic, Dark mages, family trees…and coin collecting! What a strange book to appear for someone wishing only to researching his family tree.'

His grim look fell pointedly on me and I scowled, irritated with myself…the hell with it. I was never a good liar, anyway. 'Okay fine, maybe I've been researching coins, too. I collect them. What's—what's it to you?'

O'Malley suddenly smiled, a knowing, conspiratorial sort of smile. 'Well…just maybe I'll tell you if you cooperate, kid. That coin of yours isn't exactly normal…surely you must have realized it.'

He knows I have it, I thought suddenly. And he didn't just suspect; he knew, somehow. But how? In a flash, I remembered the break-in at my house, how they'd taken the wooden trunk and nothing else, and the visit from that man during Easter break. O'Malley had to be involved somehow…but it wasn't making any sense! 'I—I thought it wasn't normal, yeah,' I said finally, watching O'Malley carefully. I didn't trust that smile one bit. 'I thought it was a replica because it's not shown any wearing. And it was too old to look brand-new, whether it was circulated or not.'

Despite himself, O'Malley looked surprised, maybe slightly impressed. 'Well, you're a bit cleverer than I thought—you obviously know your hobby well,' he said, relaxing his stance a little bit; but he didn't put away his wand, which I didn't much like. I had mine with me, not knowing if I needed it on me to get into the Room or not, but I wasn't sure if I could bring myself to attack a teacher.

I shrugged a little, brushing some of my hair out of my face, hissing as I disturbed a small splinter of wood that was still stuck in my skin. I pulled it out with a grimace. 'What do you want?' I asked again.

'Well.' O'Malley smirked, using his wand to conjure up a chair for him to sit in, and conjured a second one for me. 'Have a seat.'

The last thing I felt like doing was sitting down around this bloke. 'No thanks…I'm fine here.'

He shrugged, dispelling the chair. 'Have it your way. What I want is to know just how you found that coin. And don't try pretending you haven't got it, Weasley. I know you have. You're a very poor liar, you know.'

I scowled, feeling my ears go pink, but I didn't say anything…what was I supposed to say? 'I found it in the attic,' I said. 'My ancestor minted the coin.'

Looking perfectly amiable now that I was telling him what he wanted to hear (or thought I was), O'Malley made a sort of 'continue' gesture with his hand. 'Go on. Did you recognize it for what it was?'

What did that mean? 'If you mean, did I know it was special…no. If mean did I know it was a tricoin, yeah. I've never seen one except in pictures, but I knew it.'

'Ah, I see…and where is that coin now?'

I tensed, but tried very hard to appear nonchalant…there was no way I was going to tell him it was upstairs on my bedside table, where I usually kept my wand. 'I gave it to my mum – she works for the Ministry – I thought she might be able to find out if it was real or no--'

Before I could finish, Professor O'Malley leapt to his feet, growling angrily, and aimed his wand at me. I ducked, but not in time to avoid his spell, a spell I had never heard before: 'Legilimens!'

At first I felt nothing, and I thought I'd avoided the spell, then something strange began to happen, something I'd never experienced; my vision seemed to go unfocused, and thoughts and visions began sliding through my mind, like a picture show, things I had not brought to mind! A vision of the wooden trunk lying on the floor passed by, as Arcturus and I snuck up on it; a conversation with Aldora about the Quidditch finals I'd had a couple of days ago; a prank Faolan had played on me involving an exploding wand; and the coin again…holding it n my hands, running my thumb over its inscription, putting it in my pocket…. I tried desperately to keep the images from coming, but they were beyond my control, honing more and more tightly in on the coin, and where it was….

My panic broke and I yanked my wand out of my pocket, and cried, 'Impedimenta!' It was the easiest spell I could think of, as frantic as I was, the only thing I could manage to throw at O'Malley that could stop this terrifying influence over my own mind.

O'Malley let a cry of surprise and the barrage of images stopped abruptly, my vision focusing, my mind clearing. I shook my head hard, looking wildly around, seeing O'Malley staggering back against the wall and levelling a furious glare at me.

I didn't wait around to see what happened next; I aimed my wand wildly at the door. 'Alohomora!' It was a spell I had learned my first year, and, to my immense gratitude, it worked.

I wrenched the door open as O'Malley snarled behind me, 'Stupefy!' I bolted out of the door, and the curse hit the doorframe, smashing a hole in the frame and sending more splinters flying everywhere. I didn't look back; I only ran, knowing I couldn't possibly defeat a teacher in a duel, non matter what I'd learned in Duelling Club. I had to find someone, I had to get help, I had to get to safety somewhere!

To my horror, footsteps behind me told me that O'Malley was coming after me. As I reached the end of the corridor, I looked back once, my heart leaping painfully to see him level his wand at me again. I ducked around the corner, trying to coax my legs to move just a little faster, pushing them to their limits. I was fast on a broom, not on my feet!

It was three in the morning, and the corridor were deserted, nothing but stretches of hallway, lined with empty classrooms. Increasingly desperate, I burst through one, locking the door from the inside, and ran to the teacher's desk, intending to hid beneath it. But I wasn't fast enough. The door behind me blew open, and I had only time to spin around before a hex from O'Malley knocked me off my feet, sending me sprawling across the stone floor. I spun around, clutching my wand, but a well-aimed Disarming Spell tore it from my hand and into his.

O'Malley threw my wand aside as I scrambled to my feet, backing up towards the corner and understanding for the first time in my life how a trapped animal felt. 'Leave me alone!'

'I'll get the truth out of you if I have to rip it out of your head!' O'Malley roared, making a jerky movement with his wand.

I felt an invisible hand grab me and throw me across the room. I landed hard on the floor, and a sharp pain shot through my side as my shoulder was wrenched; I let a yell of pain as I slid, crashing headlong into one of the desks. I was suddenly afraid he was going to kill me – at the very least hurt me badly before anyone even knew what was happening. 'Y-you'll get caught, you can't just—just do this!' I cried as I staggered to my feet once more, my hand against the wall to steady myself; I felt somehow dizzy and unsteady on me feet.

O'Malley smirked. 'And who's going to hear us? No portraits, no offices, and we're quite away from Gryffindor Tower…you want to reconsider telling me what I want, Weasley. This can be a lot more unpleasant for you.'

But I did not reply; I had heard something, something I hoped wasn't just a hallucination. But O'Malley heard it, too: footsteps in the hall. O'Malley's eyes widened as he spun, meeting the figure who burst through the door looking furious: Professor Blake! And right behind him, the Headmaster!