Disclaimer: Alas, tis not mine. Pity, that.
A/N: Thank you all for reading and reviewing, even though I made you go back several chapters to do so. Many thanks go out to my beta for this piece, Trinka!
Unpleasant Revelations: II
Hermione pelted toward the small, chest-high wrought iron gate, and it burst forward at her hastily murmured, "Alohomora!", allowing her to charge through it without slowing or breaking her stride.
Twisting through leaves, feeling her robes snag and rip on the long thorns, she had no time to appreciate the minor miracle of the full roses and their soft petals as the flute continued to weave the magic of a Muggle composer over the cold winter night. She paused, her breath frosting the air in front of her as Klytemnestra and Snape nearly ran into her, skidding to a halt right behind her as she cocked her head, listening for the correct direction. They were quite close now, but it seemed as though the sound floated to them from two different directions, a trick, no doubt, of the maze of greenery surrounding them.
"Point me," she whispered, hoping that the spell would work for whatever she wanted and not simply spin uselessly. She had never tried to locate a person using it before. But the wood spun on her palm and directed her straight down the path to her right. She started off again, Snape's voice panting in her wake.
"What was that?"
"Shhh," his cousin shushed him quickly.
Another turn, and at a bush full of violet flowers looking healthy in their full bloom even as they were frosted over by the cold, they found Lily, sitting on a bench made of gleaming white marble, her eyes fixed on a series of sheets of paper that she had charmed to levitate in front of her and switch places whenever she was ready.
Hermione opened her mouth, hand stretched forward to snatch the dangerous pipe, when another head full of black hair hurtled into the small niche in the path from the opposite direction, a single word tumbling from her lips.
"Don't!"
Hermione's hand changed trajectory, her wand snapping up as she closed on her friend, recognizing the second Zabini twin.
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Kassandra sat on a gentle slope next to the lake, watching the dark grey water lap the shore and wishing that her life were as smooth as the surface. After delivering her ultimatum over Christmas, her sister had steadfastly avoided her, and Kassandra could not meet her younger cousin's eyes. Her heart pinched painfully as she realized that between her OWL preparation in classes, his insistence on playing music and her new relationship with the Crown Prince of Slytherin, she had allowed herself to drift away from the cousin that she had protected equally with Klytemnestra for the past two years. To see the revulsion in his eyes when he had understood the nature of her association with Lucius Malfoy had hurt her deeply. Caustic as he was, Severus was matured well beyond his thirteen years, and Kassandra had genuinely enjoyed his company until this fall.
And her sister…Klytemnestra was not quick to forgive, like most of the family, and there was no denying that Kassandra had to apologize for not displaying even an ounce of cunning in giving her silver-tongued suitor exactly what he wanted. But Klytemnestra seemed determined to continue not speaking to her, spending more and more of her time with Severus. But there had to be a way. They were twins, inseparable until they had arrived at Hogwarts, and close until now…
She skipped a rock over the lake, watching it sink into the cold depths before rising. She would just have to make an effective argument-
She froze halfway to standing, knees still bent in a half-crouch as she heard the sound. A flute. Remembering Lucius' intense interest in the musician, she straightened and dashed for the sound at a sprint. The American witch was a friend of the Evans girl, and Granger had saved her from Lucius when coming back to school. She owed the young Gryffindor. And her cousin seemed to have some kind of friendship with the girl as well. This was as good a way as any to convince them of her intentions.
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One of the objects of Kassandra Zabini's brooding sat in the library, grey eyes the same color as the stone behind him as he attempted to read, studying for his NEWT in Potions. He gritted his teeth as his eyes unfocused once more and he instead concentrated on an internal dilemma.
Kassandra's total rejection at the train platform had been unexpected and baffling. What had happened over break to turn her against him? He knew her sister, Klytemnestra, had never cared for him, but Kassandra hadn't seemed to mind that her twin's opinion of him differed from her own.
But strangest of all, that impossible transfer-in Gryffindor had challenged him, forcing him to back away from his carefully cultivated prize. He had never seen them together, and knew that Kassandra was jealous of the other witch because of his persistent interest in her. But Hermione Granger had charged to Kassandra's defense as certainly as she would defend her own housemates and the posse that seemed at her permanent disposal. And he had bowed out, unwilling to fight a witch who generated so much magic that it poured from her in tangible, physical form.
As to the youngest cousin…his master had idly enquired into the Snape family after Lucius had remarked on the young wizard's adept handling of himself and the curses he cast. But in spite of his influence, wealth and popularity, Lucius had never been able to get the boy to take advantage of his repeated offers of companionship, and instead, Snape had spurned all affiliation with Malfoy and any who regularly associated with him. In the shifting politics of Slytherin house, the boy had rejected those who might help him, sown the seeds of many enmities, and yet had stilled carved himself an undeniably unique role in the games of his housemates. The Dark Lord had discovered that Snape was a half-blood, and that had cooled his desire to see the then-twelve-year-old boy take his Mark immediately, but Lucius had given his lord regular updates on the boy until this new girl had arrived in England and the power-hungry wizard had become obsessed with her.
But there had been a knowing look melded with the contempt in the black eyes at the return feast the night before, and Lucius had the nasty feeling that Snape had somehow discovered what he was after, and that he had warned Kassandra against Lucius. He had, after all, summarily turned aside all members of Slytherin only to entangle himself with a Gryffindor, a snip of a girl who was far too perceptive for his tastes.
The Gryffindor his lord wanted. And without Kassandra, Lucius still did not know how he would subdue a musician who was growing into her power. The Dark Lord was unlikely to accept another flurry of excuses about his consistent failure.
His vicious imagination detailed what he would like to do to the snide, insufferable thirteen-year-old who gave the appearance of knowing so much and the Gryffindor witch that he clearly had some strange affection for. Increasingly dark ponderings were interrupted by a sound he had not hope to hear again, and his platinum head rose sharply.
Even though the closed window, he could hear the flute.
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"Don't!"
"Stay away from her!"
"Accio!" A Summoning charm snagged the instrument, which flew neatly into Kassandra's outstretched hand.
"Expelliarmus!" Both Kassandra's wand and the flute flashed in the starlight as the soared towards Hermione. She caught the straight length of silver, but a black-robed arm flickered upward, and Klytemnestra grabbed her sister's wand.
A tense moment followed, where wide green eyes stared back and forth between three pairs of black and one brown.
"What are you doing here?" the twins asked one another at the same time. Hermione was relieved that Klytemnestra was keeping a tight hold on her twin's wand and showed little inclination to hand it back.
"There are more of us than there are of you," Hermione said coldly, wand still pointed at the now-defenseless girl. "You first."
Kassandra shot her a malevolent glare, all thoughts of gratitude forgone in the face of the Gryffindor's command. But the look didn't seem to faze the other young woman at all, and Hermione lifted one eyebrow as the silence stretched, the expression absurdly reminding Kassandra of Severus.
"Kly-" she turned to address her family, "Kly, I'm not here to – I came to warn her."
"Warn me of what?" Lily's eyes had narrowed as the seconds ticked past. There was much more going on here than would initially meet the eye, but Snape and one Zabini had pounded into her space on Hermione's heels, and both seemed willing to allow her to set the tone. When had Hermione had time to develop a friendship with two Slytherins? Especially one that the Marauders hated?
"You mustn't play that. Lucius Malfoy gave it to you," Kassandra told her, facing her.
Lily's eyes widened again as they flew to Hermione, and the two girls shared an even look.
"What?" Snape asked.
"Malfoy didn't give it to her. He gave it to me," Hermione replied slowly. Her gaze was back Kassandra. "How do you know it was him?"
"He gave me a gift of a similar nature," she answered evenly.
"He what?" Klytemnestra snapped, fingers tightening around Kassandra's wand, knuckles going white in her furious grip.
Kassandra's black eyes studied the ground. "He gave me sheet music too." Her voice was less distinct, muffled with shame.
"So he must have been part of the theft of the musical instruments," Snape said slowly.
"More likely he knew someone who was or who could get him some of the merchandise," Klytemnestra replied. Her eyes turned, diamond hard, to her sister. "Has he gone on any extended absences? Could he have been directly involved in the missing shipment?"
Kassandra shook her head, glad that her now-much-regretted afternoons spent with Malfoy could yield something useful. "No. I would say not. But given what they saw in Knockturn Alley, I would say it's undeniable that he knows someone."
"Did you show them that letter?" Hermione had rounded on Snape at Kassandra's last words. He looked at her unperturbed.
"They were at the table when I opened it. I showed it to them."
"That was supposed to be private information," Hermione hissed. Snape glanced around, unconcerned.
"It is. The five people who know it are standing right here."
"And Remus Lupin," Lily volunteered from the bench.
"What?" Snape snapped, black eyes locked on Hermione's face. "Did you tell him too?"
"No. He was with us in the Alley," Lily defended. At this, Snape's face darkened inexplicably and he turned away, twisting his body with some violence to indicate his displeasure.
Ignoring him, Hermione sat down next to her friend, and Snape started pacing, robes flickering as they caught up to his body at each turn. Klytemnestra and Kassandra remained still, as if a little uncertain of each other. Klytemnestra still had her sister's wand as they weighed one another.
"D'you think he's connected to the men who wear red?" Snape finally asked after stillness settled over them again. Hermione's back straightened. She had almost forgotten that she included them in the note, she had been so surprised about Malfoy – Malfoy and the music, and his connection to Kassandra-
"You know them," she said suddenly, her voice a half-whisper as she looked to Klytemnestra. "The men in red. You got off. You know them." The wand, which had been lying cock-eyed in her lap, was now up and pointing firmly at the Slytherin girl.
"What?" Klytemnestra started, then her eyes narrowed. "No. You've got the wrong set. Many wizards wear red robes. Just because they wear the same color, it doesn't mean that they're the same-"
"They used music," Hermione interrupted inexorably. "The owner of Flourish and Blotts heard it. If they were not members of the Keeper Concilium, who were, after all, hunting music here at Hogwarts, then who were they?"
Kassandra gasped, and Klytemnestra leveled both wands at Hermione, the dynamic shifting fluidly in seconds. Snape froze, apart from the rest, dark eyes resting on each face in turn, baffled, but understanding that whatever Hermione had said, it hardly met with his cousins' approval. Kassandra stepped next to her twin, who allowed her to take her wand, keeping it pointed directly at the Gryffindor. Hermione and Lily had both of their wands extended as well, one focused on each Slytherin girl.
"How do you know their name?" Klytemnestra whispered. "No one knows that. They're one of Britain's best-guarded secrets."
"The consular who found us – Mrozcek – wanted to…he told me who he was, and where he was from," Hermione changed tacks mid-sentence. It was too much to hope that the three Slytherins wouldn't notice, and wouldn't press.
"Told you?" Klytemnestra repeated coldly, while Kassandra snorted. "The only reason he would have told you the truth about the Concilium is that you are someone of importance to them." She took a step closer, and Hermione watched her draw on the lessons ingrained since birth, an air of nobility wrapping her like a skin-tight gown as her wand point drew closer to Hermione's heart. The aristocratic arrogance of the next question reminded the Gryffindor witch strongly of the only time she had ever met Narcissa Malfoy as an adult, and made her skin crawl. "Are you someone they deem to be of importance, Hermione Granger of America?"
Lily had surged to her feet, and her wand was now mere inches from Kassandra's nose. "Leave off," she hissed. "Or no one will have difficulty telling the two of you apart ever again."
Hermione and Klytemnestra didn't move, eyes locked on one another, tamed hostility released once more, the image of the immaculate, blonde mother of spoiled Draco superimposed on the night-black tresses and darker, but no less fair, features of Klytemnestra Zabini. Hermione blinked to clear her vision. The strength and frequency of these attacks, where the two timelines would merge in her memory, were growing ever weaker and farther apart, but sometimes still had the clarity to take her breath away.
"Maybe he didn't tell me the truth," Hermione whispered quietly into the taut silence. "Maybe they did attack Diagon Alley, and he came here to ensure that no students with a talent for music learned the arts that could stop him. Maybe someone other than Voldemort had an interest in Grindelwald's research regarding music."
"The Concilium has existed for centuries! Grindelwald has nothing to do with it!" snarled Kassandra, eyes still fixed on Lily's wand, which was hovering closer. She had none of her sister's poise, possibly because Lily looked a breath away from hexing her into oblivion.
"If he told you the nature of what they do, then you know that they do not use their mastery for attack," Klytemnestra said, as if her twin had not spoken.
Hermione arched an eyebrow. "No," she said slowly. She had assumed that the consular meant her well. He had seemed an essentially decent man – not a fan of Dumbledore, but then, everyone that didn't necessarily agree with the headmaster was hardly a Death Eater or Dark Wizard – if a little hidebound. His offer to train her, while unwelcome, had felt sincere when she had been standing in the Headmaster's office almost two months ago…
But that was the problem. There was no way to know, and all the evidence now pointed to the contrary, that if she had agreed to go with them, she would have been incarcerated, or worse…
"I have no guarantees of what they actually do or accomplish with their vast knowledge of music," Hermione continued softly. "Only that they are all proficient and have an enormous amount of knowledge. But I am curious," the imperious look on Klytemnestra's face likely worked on most Slytherins. But Hermione had looked into the face of half a dozen Death Eaters, and the prospect of asking the Zabini girl questions was only tiring, not intimidating. "I would love to know – if they are one of Britain's best-kept secret societies, how do you know about them?"
The girls stiffened, and exchanged a glance. Snape spoke from where he had almost blended with the leaves of the rose bushes, the night making the green nearly as black as his robes.
"I didn't know any of that," his voice murmured. "But I am also most interested to know, cousin," the emphasis on the family connection was not a kind one, and sounded faintly of betrayal, "how you come by this information."
"We have the right connections," Klytemnestra finally answered.
Hermione snorted, long since used to oblique and sneering answers, but Lily exploded. The subject was one of her weak points. "The right connections? You Slytherins make me sick! Your pureblood mania, your holier-than-thou attitude, your swaggering arrogance! No wonder the rising Dark Lord is reputed to harvest most of his recruits from your house – you're ready-made and rubber-stamped for him to take you off the assembly line. Muggle-hating, power-grubbing, wealthy sycophants just his for the taking!" Her chest heaving, Lily yanked her wand from Kassandra's face as if it took considerable effort to deny herself the satisfaction of hexing her. Hermione stared. Lily was always so even-tempered, so sweet, so understanding…now she looked positively dangerous, and Harry flashed in her green eyes in front of Hermione's face. She smiled without joy. Lily's outburst was worthy of her son in his worst moments.
"These red-robed men wrecked Diagon Alley. Destroyed homes and shops, and they killed people. This isn't some stupid game to hold information over children and lord over others like whose parents sat closest to the Minster's family at the last gala. If you know them, or know about them, and you're not telling, that makes you as guilty as they are if they decide to rampage again."
Her green eyes glittered as she surveyed the two sisters, both frozen in shock, the mantle of her high birth completely vanished as Klytemnestra simply stared at the young witch. When no response was forthcoming, she turned away from them. "C'mon, Hermione," she whispered hoarsely, and Hermione wasn't quite surprised to see Lily's eyes a brilliant jade with unshed tears.
"Let's go," Hermione agreed. Her wand remained on the two as she backed away, running into several thorns. She didn't complain, it was clear that she would rather run into the spines than turn her back on the sister's, knowing what they knew.
She need not have bothered. Neither twin moved until they were well out of sight, hidden by the roses, and then one arm snaked out to check Snape as he strode past, intent on going after the two girls.
"Are they right?" Snape rounded on his cousins. Though two years younger, he was already some inches taller, and was not above using his height to intimidate. "She said in the note that they had – did they attack the alley?"
"No, of course not," Klytemnestra replied harshly. "I don't know what she's playing at. Come on."
Snape hesitated, undecided. Kassandra pinned him with a glare, but it was her sister who spoke again, her hand tight on his forearm. "Family, Severus."
He glowered, but nodded stiffly in assent, and without speaking, they turned, their robes swirling around their ankles as they strode back to their common room, each with a package of their own thoughts.
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Lucius cocked his head sharply to listen, and smiled. The music had ceased some moments before, but it was replaced by a furious, half-whispered argument. Treading lightly, he murmured a spell to part the branches with their treacherous thorns in front of him, leaving just enough space for his eyes to take in the scene.
The silver flute flashed in the dim light, drawing his eye to its holder. The American! He had been correct! Kassandra had lied to him. He ignored the surge of anger that accompanied this thought as he strained to identify the rest of the small group, their black robes on the dark green bushes making it difficult to distinguish where one ended and the other began. He could see that the Granger girl was holding her wand on one figure, and another form also had their wand-arm extended towards that same person.
Seated on a marble bench and looking slightly confused was another Gryffindor – Lily Evans – another recent addition to the Slug Club. Fascinating. Perhaps this was why she and Granger were such good friends. There had been more than one instrument being played in the forest that night nearly two months ago, it would make sense if she were one of them…
Although he hadn't heard the distinct tones of a flute that evening…he pushed that puzzle aside, needing to hear. Later, he could weed through the pieces and put them together.
Granger said something in their heated voices that brought identical gasps, and Lucius recognized his ex-lover and her twin. He frowned. This was unexpected, but it went a long way to explaining Kassandra's sudden coldness…but the other twin was holding two wands, and now both were pointed at Granger, whereas previously they had been directed towards Kassandra. Clearly she had said something to displease them. He grinned with delight at the abrupt turning of the tables.
"How do you know their name?" Klytemnestra was whispering, and he strained to hear. "No one knows that. They're one of Britain's best-guarded secrets."
"The consular who found us – Mrozcek – wanted to…he told me who he was, and where he was from."
"Told you?" Klytemnestra repeated, and Lucius' smile grew wider at the ice in her voice. "The only reason he would have told you the truth about the Concilium is that you are someone of importance to them. Are you someone they deem to be of importance, Hermione Granger of America?"
The Concilium? Lucius racked his brain, desperately reaching for a reference point, a memory that would allow him to decipher what they were talking about, but his mind only drew a blank, and he twisted his head, trying to hear as their voices dropped in fierce discussion. He gathered a few phrases as tones rose and fell in pitch. "Maybe they did attack Diagon Alley," Granger said, and Kassandra responded some moments later, "The Concilium has existed for centuries! Grindelwald-" Cursing his ears and the thickness of the screen that separated them, Lucius leaned so far he felt thorns prick, and knew they would draw blood.
"-if they are one of Britain's best-kept secret societies, how do you know about them?" Granger was asking. Silence greeted this question, and a figure melted forward from the brush that Lucius had not seen previously. However, he was completely unsurprised when the lanky form spoke with Severus Snape's voice.
"I didn't know any of that. But I am also most interested to know, cousin, how you come by this information."
A secret society? And Kassandra knew about it? He started earnestly thinking of ways to get back in her good books, for her to trust him again. Whole societies of wizards only existed in secret if they protected something powerful. "The consular who found us – Mrozcek…" His grey eyes widened. Mrozcek had been one of the inspectors at the school first term. All of Lucius' contacts and numerous called-in favors from both students and alumni had availed him nothing when they had been there, no one could tell him a single thing about the strange visitors. But it seemed that at least three of the girls standing in front of him had a good idea…
"These red-robed men wrecked Diagon Alley. Destroyed homes and shops, and they killed people." Lily Evans was storming in front of him, and had been for several minutes. But this statement sent his mind on another jog, a memory of Rookwood's pained face and whispers through the Death Eaters that someone had found a way to use music before their lord had, and that he was not happy…
Red robes. Mrozcek. The Concilium. An "inspection" at Hogwarts. As the two Gryffindor witches walked away, he saw Granger hand the flute to Evans. A flurry of action as Snape started after the younger girls, only to have his cousins stop him. And then they, too, turned and went in the opposite direction, silence falling over the place where they had been standing.
Lucius sighed, a smirk quirking the corner of one mouth. He might not deliver the girl next time he reported to his lord, but there was certainly plenty to say.
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As Hermione clambered back into the common room at fifteen minutes past nine o'clock and curfew, grateful that she and Lily had not encountered any teachers, a group of four boys rose from their places by the fire, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. Absurdly, they reminded her of four stern parents about to launch into a diatribe.
"Evans?" James had caught sight of Hermione's companion, and his face brightened, losing its father-like cast in favor of delight. Sirius rolled his eyes and aimed a kick at James' shin.
"Have fun," Lily muttered, passing quickly through the room and darting up the girl's staircase where the boys could not follow, calling her "Good night!" over her shoulder. The flute would be placed back in the case and Disillusioned to live under Lily's bed. Hermione felt vaguely abandoned, but she knew that after her furious tirade at the Zabini twins, Lily had no interest in dealing with the Marauders.
"Second night back and you go disappearing?" Sirius started. "I thought we had a project to work on."
"I was in the-"
"Library?" To her surprise, it was not James who picked up her partial lie, but Remus, and she was dismayed to see the pronounced disappointment there. "We looked. You weren't there."
"I was. Until about 8:30," she replied, feeling her face heat uncomfortably. She didn't want to have to start lying to them now…especially since her friendship with Snape would be both unexplainable to them and impossible to maintain with their constant interference.
Then again, perhaps it wouldn't matter. As long as his snake-like cousins had their claws sunk into him, any sort of positive connection seemed unlikely. The girls had said nothing except to deny Hermione's claims and questions, and they had offered not a single shred of proof to disabuse her of her notions. Consequently, they had simply deepened them, and Hermione would not associate with those who kept secrets for murderers. Until a couple of years ago, the Death Eaters had been largely a closed society, until Voldemort had begun his open ascent to power, and Hermione wondered who these men were that she had never heard of them, especially with the attack on Diagon Alley.e
"Which leaves a grand total of," Sirius checked his watch, "forty-five minutes for you to get yourself into all kinds of trouble."
"She was with Lily, Sirius," James had re-joined the conversation now that the object of his thirteen-year-old desires had vanished out of sight up the spiral staircase. "They can't have gotten into that much trouble."
This appeared to take some of the wind out of Sirius' sails of righteous indignation, and Peter, who always followed suit, was looking slightly more apologetic than stern now. But Remus' gentle eyes had flared with something like happiness at this composition of two and two.
"What did Snape give you for Christmas?" Sirius switched subjects so quickly that Hermione stared at him for a moment, her mind still on puzzling out why this group of troublemakers and rule breakers cared that she was out past curfew.
"I don't see that's any business of yours, Black." She deliberately frosted her voice with the same disdain of the girls of her dormitory, severely displeased with their version of interrogation. "If Snape wants to give me a present, that's his prerogative."
"It wasn't dangerous?" Remus and James asked together, looking both hopeful and relieved. Hermione knew they would gladly take any excuse to hex the unpopular Slytherin into next week.
"No. It was a bauble, all right? An ornament that had the village of Hogsmeade in miniature inside it," she lied quickly, knowing where she could get such an item by owl order.
"Why?" Sirius asked.
"You'd have to ask him," she responded tartly, and then realized what she had just said. "Don't you dare ask," she snapped in a low voice. "I don't understand why you guys can't leave him alone. And if we continue to talk about Snape, I'm not going to help determine anything further about our project."
This silenced them completely. Much as they hated Snape and wanted answers, the ability to become Animagi was far more important to them. And it was already clear that without Hermione, their chances of success collapsed from slim to none.
"All right," Sirius muttered sulkily. But James was already reaching for his bag, where dwelled all the books that Hermione had brought back with her.
Remus was frowning as he watched the other four flip open the three books she had purchased for this purpose. He was genuinely relieved to know that Snape had not given her a dangerous item, but what continued to puzzle him was why he had thought to give her anything at all. They were hardly close – they never even sat together in class…perhaps the Slytherin boy bore some watching.
"There are three more that we'll need – I've owled for them – but since our trunks were looked through coming back to school, I thought it was best not to have six books that essentially comprise the do-it-yourself handbook to becoming Animagi," she was explaining. "These books will help us through the first phases. The problem is I think we'll eventually need a special receptacle that's housed in the Ministry, something tied to animal magic-"
"Animals have magic?" Remus asked.
"Just a little, less even than Muggles, but we still need to connect to it to complete the process."
"My dad works at the Ministry," James volunteered.
"And mine!" Peter added hastily.
"We could ask them if they would allow us to go in with them, then sneak off and find whatever this thing is over the summer."
"Maybe," Hermione said absently. "But it's more important now to figure out what we're going to be." She had opened the Transfiguration book to an early chapter, and four heads bent in to scan the opening paragraph.
"Every witch or wizard has one or more animal representations. Most often, the strongest connection between a wizard and a particular type of animal manifests in an individual's Patronus charm, their protector and message sender. When seeking to become an Animagus, however, a witch or a wizard is often given a choice between two or three forms that they can focus on becoming. Once they choose one, that form is forever theirs, and the other forms become an impossibility. The first step in transformation is understanding what you, as an individual, have the ability to become."
Underneath the paragraph, there was an ingredients list, followed by complicated looking instructions.
"A potion?" James yelped in dismay. "We have to brew a potion to get to know our forms?"
"The first of many, James," Hermione sighed. "Potions, Transfiguration and Arithmancy all figure heavily into becoming Animagi, as do Herbology and Charms. This is going to take time. Possibly years." When Hermione had learned in her third year how long it had taken two of the best students of Transfiguration at Hogwarts the better part of three years to become Animagi, she had wondered why. But extensive reading had given her the answer. Becoming an Animagus was not at all the same as turning inanimate objects into animals, or even turning a person into an animal, though to the outward eye, it was identical. To change at will, always to the same form, and retain both a human mind and have all the instincts of the animal, required a solid understanding of the animal one became, and a respect for the creature and the world that it came from. It also required permanent physiological changes. Hermione was convinced that there were so few Animagi in the wizarding population due to the complexity of the process to become one – and the side effects. She had found to her dismay that witches became sterile in the process of becoming Animagi, probably a leading reason why there was only one registered female Animagus in the entire twentieth century, and she had only met one other illegal one.
She marked the place for the potion and shut the book with a sigh. Once an Animagus, the alteration from human to animal form was painless and immediate, but the many steps to get there were not. And given some of the consequences, she was starting to wonder if she would complete the journey.
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Waiting at the back of the room, the least important of his lord's informants and followers, Lucius did not dare to sit, even as the hour he had been there stretched to two, then to three, and midnight arrived and passed as others moved forward and back, power flowing and eddying in the room as the self-styled lord bestowed favors and the Cruciatus with equal dispassion. The clock in the hall chimed one, and Lucius felt a stirring of apprehension. He could not be missed, which meant that he should return to Hogwarts by five in the morning, so that his dormitory mates would not notice his absence.
"What information do you bring me from the Ministry, Calitus?" came the soft question from the throne-like upholstered chair near the hearth.
"My lord, the Minister is ripe to fall…" Lucius studied the planks of wood under his feet, the dark green color of the paper on the wall, the silver trim lining floor and ceiling. The Dark Lord's obsession with things that represented Hogwarts in any way, especially Slytherin, was a much-discussed subject between the Death Eaters. Apparently, anyone who could bring the lord an object belonging to one of the founders was richly rewarded…
"...excellent. You have done well." The lord bestowed a smile that was more like a grimace on his bowed-over servant, and finally his eyes came to rest on Lucius, standing stiffly near the back as the room grew emptier and emptier, the Ministry contingent filing out, Calitus looking quite smug, until there were only three people left.
"I believe you have been quite patient, Lucius," the lord almost purred from his seat. "Come." A skeletal finger beckoned, and Lucius hastened forward, blond hair swinging into his face. "You arrive voluntarily. Perhaps you bring me something I seek?"
Lucius swallowed. He had not brought his lord the girl, and he was wondering now whether his rush to gain the Dark Lord's approval with what suddenly seemed irrelevant musings had been folly. But it was too late now, the Mark on his wrist was heating as he failed to answer Voldemort's question.
"Not a girl, master," he replied, mouth dry with dread. "I bring information." The words tumbled from his lips as fast as he could shove them off. He relayed everything he had heard the girls say, placing careful emphasis on the red-robed men, their attack on Diagon Alley, their connection with music and the Zabini twins apparent knowledge of their activities. Voldemort's expression moved from thunderous to curious to cunning, the almost non-existent eyebrows smoothing as his eyes turned to some internal object, all redness vanished in his absorption with his thoughts.
"Well done, Lucius. Well done," he said at last. He tapped his thin lips with a slender finger. "You have discovered what even Rookwood failed to uncover." Silence, and then, "If you cannot bring me the – you said she is an American? – girl, then bring me one of the daughters of Zabini." Redness lanced through his gaze as he turned it back on the young blond in front of him. "Do not return here until you have her."
Lucius bowed, grateful that his spying had reaped at least a partial pardon from his master. "Yes, my lord."