Love Potions and Poison

All too soon came the time for us to return to Hogwarts.

Monday morning, I got two letters. One of which pleased me and the other made me angry. The letter that made me angry was from Rufus Scrimgeour and in his letter, he asked me and Cedric to stand alongside the Ministry and act like things were better than they were and asked if I knew where Professor Dumbledore was going when he left the school. I showed this letter to the others and they, like me, thought that after all the Ministry had put Cedric and I through last year, they had a great deal of nerve asking for our help.

I ended up sending firm, yet stern letter expressing mine and Cedric's refusal to grant the Ministry's requests based on their treatment of us and even Ron and Hermione slipped a few things in, and I also stated that where Professor Dumbledore was going and what he was doing was none of their concern said Cedric and I were Professor Dumbledore's people through and through.

The letter that pleased me was from Professor Dumbledore and we were having another lesson the following night eight o'clock that night, I went to his office.

"Ah, Helena, it's good to see you," said Professor Dumbledore.

"Likewise sir," I said, as I sat down. "How was your trip and holidays?"

"Well enough. By the way, I just received I got a letter from the Minister. He was quite upset by a letter he received from you this week," said Professor Dumbledore, looking both amused and touched.

I blushed slightly. "Well, we thought we should make our loyalties clear, Professor. Even if I do want to be an Auror, I hold no love for the Ministry, not after all they've done."

"I know, Helena. Now, I have two memories to show tonight. But first, let me tell you what Voldemort was like years ago. Despite his being poor and an orphan, he was popular with the teachers and had his own band of followers. Framing Hagrid for the opening of the Chamber of Secrets was not the only crime he was not linked to over the next seven years. Voldemort also researched his father's family for many months, believing his mother couldn't have been a witch and fallen to the shameful weakness of death. Eventually, he was forced to accept the truth and thus disposed of his despised name.

"The summer before he opened the Chamber of Secrets, he followed a lead to his mother's old home and family. He expected to find Marvolo, but did not as Marvolo had perished some weeks after his six-month duration in Azkaban and Morfin returned thirty months later and became even more despicable than before. You'll see what happened when Tom visited his uncle."

He held out a sealed vial, which instantly proved to be too difficult to open with his still injured hand, so I did it for him and then we entered Morfin's memory.

Mofin's hole of a home was awful and filthy. He himself reminded me and overly-hairy gorilla as he hissed at a snake and I realized he was speaking Parseltongue. Suddenly, the door opened and in came Tom Riddle.

Morfin looked at him and raised his knife. "You! YOU!" He ran towards Tom, but ceased his movements when Riddle hissed, "Stop!"

Morfin seemed shocked and narrowed his eyes at Tom. "You speak it?"

"Yes, I speak it," said Tom, impatiently. "Where is Marvolo?"

"Dead. Died years ago, didn't he?"

Tom frowned. "Who're you, then?"

"I'm Morfin, ain't I?"

"Marvolo's son?"

"'Course I am." Morfin gazed at Tom. "I thought you was that Muggle. You look mighty right like that Muggle."

"What Muggle?" Tom demanded, sharply.

"The Muggle my sister took a fancy to, that Muggle what lives in the big house over the way," said Morfin. He spat on the floor. "You look right like him, Riddle. But he's older now, isn't he? He's older than you, now that I think of it. He come back see."

"Riddle came back?" said Tom.

"Ar, he left her. And serve her right, marrying filth!" said Morfin, spitting on the floor again. "Robbed us, mind, before she ran off! Where's the locket, eh, where's Slytherin's locket? She dishonored us, the filthy little blood traitor. And who're you coming over and asking questions about all that? It's over now, isn't it? It's over…"

Everything darkened and we were back in the office.

"What happened? Why'd everything go dark?" I asked.

"Because that's all that Morfin recalled for a time," said Professor Dumbledore. "Shortly afterward, Voldemort took his uncle's wand from him and used it to murder his father and grandparents. Their deaths did not go unnoticed and were the talk of the village for years afterward."

Professor Dumbledore took out an old newspaper. The headline read, Riddles Murdered. Caretaker Suspected of Crime. The photograph of the caretaker was familiar, but it took me a minute to realize why.

"That old man," I said. "That-that was the man I saw die two years ago. Oh, gall…"

"Yes, Frank Bryce, the Riddles' groundskeeper and caretaker was believed to be the Riddles' murderer for a short time. He was known to be hot-tempered after the war due to his stiff leg, possessive of the grounds he worked so hard to keep well, he had the means to do it and no solid alibi. The police didn't believe him when he said he saw a strange, dark-haired pale teenager on the day of the murder as no one else had seen him. However, the police were forced to release Frank as the Riddles' bodies turned up completely unharmed as the Killing Curse does no physical damage."

"What happened to Morfin?"

"When the Ministry learnt of the murder, they interrogated Morfin. As he'd had his memory modified, he confessed to the murder and later died within Azkaban. I only retrieved this information moments before his death. After he was imprisoned, he realized he'd lost his father's ring and kept saying, 'he'll kill me for losing his ring,' and went mad."

"And he never realized he was innocent? That's horrible."

Professor Dumbledore nodded. "The ring was not the only thing Voldemort took. Before leaving Hogwarts, he asked Headmaster Dippet if he could stay on as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, but was told that he was too young at eighteen but was invited to reapply in a few years. He received top marks from all his teachers and refused all offers of help in his career and went to work in Knockturn Alley as a shop's assistant. No one could explain why and felt it was a waste of talent."

"Let me guess," I said, sighing. "He went to work at Borgan and Burkes."

Professor Dumbledore nodded. "After some years, he became a frequent visitor of a rich old woman called Hephzibah Smith, who had several trinkets and sometimes sold her things to the shop. She was also very distantly descended from Helga Hufflepuff and had Hufflepuff's last known relic, a gold cup, in her possession, along with Slytherin's locket, the last possession of Salazar Slytherin and the Gaunts."

"She had Slytherin's locket? Why?" I asked.

"Merope had pawned it to Borgan and Hephzibah paid handsomely for it. Two days after Voldemort paid her a visit, she passed away. Her old house-elf, Hokey, believed she'd accidently killed her mistress after placing poison instead of sugar in her mistress's cocoa. Along with the cup and locket, Voldemort soon disappeared after that. He did not reappear until some years later when he came to me asking for the teaching post he'd asked of Dippet. I refused and the job's been jinxed ever since."

"I can't say I blame him for wanting to stay here," I murmured. This place had been my home and always would be. "So, what does the next memory show?"

"This is an old memory of Professor Slughorn's while Voldemort was still one of his prized students."

We entered yet another memory. This time, we were in Professor Slughorn's office. He was a great deal younger. Voldemort was with his gang and he looked incredibly handsome and relaxed and wearing his grandfather's ring.

"Sir, is it true that Professor Merrythought is retiring?" he asked.

"Tom, if I knew, I couldn't tell you," said Professor Slughorn, wagging a sugar-coated finger at him as one would a naughty child. "I must say, I'd like to know where you get your information, boy, more knowledgeable than half the staff, you are."

Tom smiled. "Thank you, sir."

"What with your uncanny ability to know things you shouldn't, and your careful flattery of the people who matter—thank you for the pineapple by the way, you're quite right, it is my favorite—"

Suddenly, there was a thick white fog and Professor Slughorn shouted, "You'll go wrong boy, mark my words."

The fog cleared just as quickly, and much to my confusion, no one seemed to have noticed Professor Slughorn's raised tone. Then a small golden clock on the desk chimed eleven o'clock.

"Good gracious, is that the time already?" said Professor Slughorn. "You'd better be going boys, or we'll all be in trouble. Lestrange, I want your essay by tomorrow or it's detention. Same goes for you, Avery."

The boys filed out, except for Tom, who lingered. "Sir, there's something I want to ask you before I go to my common room."

"Ask away then, my boy, ask away."

"Sir, I wondered what you knew about…about Horcruxes?"

The fog then returned along with Slughorn's raised voice.

"I don't know anything about Horcruxes and I wouldn't tell you even if I did! Now get out of here at once and don't let me catch you mentioning them again!"

Suddenly, we were back in Professor Dumbledore's office.

"What was that all about?" I asked. "That hardly seemed like a memory. Every time he shouted, no one noticed."

"Exactly," said Professor Dumbledore. "As you can see, the memory's been tampered with. Rather badly done so, but tampered with nevertheless."

"Tampered with?" I repeated. "But why? Why would he do that?"

"I believe Horace is ashamed of what that memory shows. It's something he deeply regrets," said Professor Dumbledore. "Helena, I'm giving you a job to do. Horace knows me too well and is quite accomplished in keeping out people from his mind. I need you to secure that memory. It's vital to our lessons."

"Would this be the reason why you asked me to let me be collected by him?" I asked.

"Yes, Helena, it is."

"Very well. I'll do my best, sir."

"Good. Now, that concludes our lesson, Helena. We'll resume them when you have that memory."

"Understood." I rose up. "Good-night, sir."

"Good-night, Helena."

The others suggested all kinds of tips and I went with one of their suggestions. At Potions the next day, after creating yet another fantastic potion with the Prince's help, I cornered Professor Slughorn.

"Professor, can I have a word?"

"Yes, certainly."

"I know it's a delicate subject, but it's really important."

"Then ask away, I shan't bite."

"I was wondering if you could tell me what you told Tom Riddle the night he asked about Horcruxes?"

Professor Slughorn instantly paled and then his eyes narrowed. "Dumbledore put you up to this, didn't he? Well, I shan't reveal a thing! I shan't!"

And with that, he stormed out of the dungeon, leaving me feeling very disappointed.

Try as I might, I couldn't get a minute alone with Slughorn over the next few weeks. He seemed determined not let us be alone even for a second, which made me mad. Even more agrrivating was the fact that Malfoy had some kind of place that wasn't on the Map and kept disappearing to.

With March came the Apparation test for the sixth and seventh years which we all took and managed to do well on, but later was Ron's birthday. He finally turned seventeen and we were planning to go to Hogsmeade after he opened some of his gifts. He'd been excited about this for weeks as we'd persuaded Hermione to come with us, but this morning he seemed quite out of it. Cedric, who'd entered the common room and was coming with us, gazed at him.

"Ron, are you coming?" he asked.

"In a moment," he said, sighing dramatically.

"Ron, you okay?" I asked.

"I'm better than okay," said Ron. "I'm in love with her."

I stared at him. "You're in love with Lavender?"

Ron stared back. "Lavender? Why would I care about her? I'm talking about someone better. I mean Romilda Vane."

Mine and Cedric's jaws dropped.

"Romilda Vane?" said Cedric. "You've never even talked to her! How can you possibly be in love with her?"

"How can I not be?" he said, dreamily. "She's got gorgeous black silky hair and lovely dark eyes like the night sky. She's like a goddess in mortal form! I love Romilda Vane!"

"I think I'm going to vomit. You don't love her, you hate her, remember?" I said.

"Good joke, but laugh's over, alright?" said Cedric.

Suddenly Ron's fists swung at us and then in my mind, I shouted, Levicorpus! Ron was instantly levitated upside-down by the ankles as Cedric laughed.

"What was that for?" I shouted.

"You two insulted her! You said it was a joke! You said I didn't love her!"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Ron, you're being stupid!" said Cedric.

"This is insane! What's gotten into you?" I asked.

"I think I know," said Cedric, holding up an empty Chocolate Cauldrons box. "Ron, where did you get these?"

"They were a birthday present! I offered you some, didn't I? Put me down!" said Ron, turning purple in the face.

"You just picked them up off the floor, didn't you?" I said, burying my face in my hands. How could Ron be such an idiot? Oh, wait, easily!

"They fell off my bed, alright?"

"They weren't yours, you stupid git!" said Cedric. "They were mine! I dropped them when I was carrying them! I was going to dispose of them! Romilda Vane gave me those before Christmas and they're all spiked with Love Potion!"

Sadly, but not surprisingly, only one word of this registered to Ron. "Romilda? Did you say Romilda? Can you take me to her?"

"Uh, yeah, we know where she is," I lied. I gave Cedric a look that said, just play along. "She's with Slughorn. She's got Remedial Potions with him."

Cedric dragged him down to the dudgeons and I knocked on Professor Slughorn's door and after a few minutes, he answered it.

"Helena, Cedric, it's a Saturday. What's all the ruckus?" he asked.

"We're sorry to bother you, Professor, but our friend Ron's swallowed a Love Potion by mistake, and we were hoping you could fix it," I said. "We'd have gone to Madame Pomfrey, but since his brothers' stuff is banned, it'd mean awkward questions."

"I'd have thought either of you could've made up a remedy already," said Professor Slughorn.

"Well, neither of us has whipped up a remedy for a Love Potion and by the time we get it right, Ron might've done something incredibly bad or stupid," said Cedric, as he tried to contain a squirming Ron.

"Was this potion within date?" asked Professor Slughorn, now eyeing Ron with interest. "They can strengthen the longer they're kept."

"That would explain a lot. Please, sir, it's his birthday," I added.

"I see. Well, come in. I believe I have something here that'll fix him up."

"Where's Romilda?" asked Ron. "Do I look alright?"

"You look fine, Ron. Romilda's running a bit late, that's all," said Cedric. "We'll wait here for her."

"That we will," said Professor Slughorn, handing Ron a drink. "Drink this up. It's a tonic for the nerves."

Ron quickly drank it and then immediately looked revolted. "Bloody—! I did not just think I was in love with that ugly cow, Vane, did I?"

"Afraid so, Ron," said Cedric, as I laughed.

"At least it's over," I said, when I ceased laughing.

"And I say we should have a birthday drink," said Professor Slughorn. "I've got some oak-matured mead, meant to give that to Dumbledore for Christmas, but he can't miss what he's never had!" He poured us all some drinks and held up his glass. "Happy Birthday to you, Ronald Weasley and many more!"

But neither Cedric nor I were paying attention to this toast as Ron, who'd quickly drunk all his mead, was gasping for breath, foaming at the mouth and turning blue.

"Ron!" shouted Cedric.

I searched the room frantically and found a bezoar which I shoved down Ron's throat. He swallowed the black stone. His color returned and he looked better, but he was still unconscious and his breathing was still shallow.

"Get help!" I screamed.

Professor Slughorn ran out of the room and came back with help and Ron was taken to the hospital wing.

Word spread fast as the entire Weasley family minus Percy came to see him along with Hermione and some of the staff.

"Is he going to be alright?" asked Hermione. She'd been as pale as milk ever since she'd come in.

"He's tired and weak, but he should be fit as fiddle in a few days," said Cedric. "We're lucky a bezoar was in the room or he could've been worse."

"This is awful," I said. "First Katie's cursed, now Ron's poisoned. Who's trying to kill who and why?" Surely the poison couldn't have been meant for Ron anymore than the necklace could've been meant for Katie.

"That's what we'd all like to know," said Madame Pomfrey. "For the moment, let's just be glad Mr. Weasley will recover."

"Where's my Won-Won?" said Lavender, bursting in. "Why didn't anyone tell me sooner? I'm his girlfriend!" She glared at Hermione. "Why are you here?"

"I'm his best friend, I have every right to be here," said Hermione, returning the glare.

"Don't be absurd! You've barely spoken to him for weeks!" she snapped. "You've no right to be here!"

I would've slapped her for saying such a thing if Madame Pomfrey wasn't so strict about proper conduct and was in the room with us.

Ron started to moan in his sleep.

"Oh, see? He senses my presence," said Lavender, dramatically. "He wants me."

But a surprise was heading Lavender's way.

"Hermione, I want my Hermione," he mumbled. "My Hermione…"

Hermione looked touched and very happy as she took Ron's hand in hers and his fingers intertwined with hers. Lavender looked horrified and disgusted as she fled from the hospital wing. I'd never liked Lavender so I had no problem feeling pleased that she was gone and hoping she was out of Ron's love life for good.

Ron recovered a few days later. It was common news that Ron and Lavender were broken up seeing as how Lavender wouldn't shut up about it and kept bursting into tears when she saw Ron.

Ron, by some miracle, seemed to remember that he'd broken up with Lavender in his sleep and didn't seem the least bit bothered by it.

"I'm sorry things ended badly for you, Ron," said Hermione. But anyone could see she was glad it was off.

"Don't be. I'm glad it's off. She was driving me mad. What possessed me to go out with her, I'll never know."

"I'm glad you're happy," said Hermione.

"Yeah, about that, uh, Hermione," he said, slowly. "I know I've been a total git, but I want to make it up to you. Do you think we could start over? Maybe go on a walk or something this evening?"

Hermione smiled. "I'd like that, Ron."

I sighed in contentment and shared a knowing glance with Cedric. Perhaps now things would be better between Ron and Hermione.

Katie returned to school that same day, but she told me she had no recollection of who gave her the package. I was disappointed, but pushed past it as I went on my day. I was heading back to the common room when a voice shouted, "Helena!"

I just about jumped a foot until I saw who it was.

"Myrtle, you startled me. Is something wrong?" I asked.

"I just thought you should know something. That Draco Malfoy boy, he's been in the bathroom crying quite a lot," said Myrtle.

"Malfoy? Crying?" I said, stunned. "Why?"

"Don't know. When I asked him, he was rude about it. He told me to shove off and mind my own business," said Myrtle, sniffling.

"Next time you see him, why don't you haunt him and his dormitory?"

Myrtle's eyes lit up. "I think I will. Thanks."

"Myrtle, there's one more thing. Did you see or hear anything else about Malfoy?"

Myrtle paused for a moment and then said, "Malfoy muttered something about getting his job done or someone would kill him."

"Thank you. Let me or the others know if you find out anything else, won't you?"

"Of course. Bye, Helena."

I was surprised by this revelation. If Malfoy's task from Voldemort was making him upset enough to actually cry, it must've been serious or something he didn't want to do, but what? What could he be trying to do that was making him miserable if only a few weeks ago, he was accusing Professor Snape of trying to steal his glory? And what could be so bad that Voldemort would threaten to murder him?