A/N Updates, updates, let's go! *shakes pom poms* If you're reading this fic, please review! It helps me know which parts you're enjoying and which parts you're not, so I know what direction to take the fic. Shout out to "I know okay", "agd888", "MitsuKun" and "bubblecloudz" for your reviews so far! :) It's really great, thank yoooouuu!
Harry waved his wand and watched as his collection rematerialized. He had promised Malfoy he would move it all tonight, but as the shelves and assorted pieces popped into existence, he found himself strangely reticent. He knew that they would only be a Floo away, but why did he have to do even that? If they could be so close as to be a Floo call away, surely it didn't matter that they were in his apartment?
Malfoy had to be overreacting. He was probably terrified that the Ministry would find the collection, and that Malfoy's probation would then be ruined. Harry supposed that was a fair reason to be scared. The only solution, really, was to hide the items further.
He waved his wand and began strengthening the concealment charms. The shrunken heads would be able to fit inside his pouches with the Undetectable Extension Charm on them, and that would help mute some of their magical scent. And maybe if he placed a bottle of Amortentia on his bookshelves, it could help mask the odour of dragon's blood that had given him away to Malfoy in the first place. He'd have to investigate that.
Of course, he couldn't tell Malfoy that he hadn't moved the collection, because Malfoy would only worry that the Ministry would find out. So he'd have to convince him that he had moved it all. Really convince him, so that he didn't come to check for himself. Well, Malfoy seemed convinced that the items were somehow affecting Harry, so if Harry took a Pepper Up potion, maybe Malfoy would think he had done as he had promised.
Harry felt the slightest bit guilty when he remembered that, after all, he had promised Malfoy. But it was short-lived. Really, what right did Malfoy have to stick his nose into Harry's life? They were partners at work, but that was all. So long as Harry made sure that his hobbies didn't get Malfoy in trouble, Malfoy could hardly complain.
With a final wave of his wand, Harry made sure that everything was hidden once again.
The next day, when Wiffleston had left the office for "carrot sticks and a glass of hot water with a slice of lemon", Harry and Malfoy took the opportunity to test out their new theory. They took the cloak again, and shuffled through the corridors and down to the basement level.
"Awful lot of Aurors on duty," Malfoy muttered as they passed their fourth on the way down the stairs.
"Yeah. Any idea why?" Harry asked.
Malfoy shook his head, nearly colliding with Harry since they were so close together. "Have to ask Wiffleston."
They made it down to the cells without any trouble and threw off the cloak.
"Merlin, Potter, you're fidgety today, aren't you?" Malfoy said, watching as Harry crumpled the cloak in several different ways before he was happy with the way it would fit into his pocket.
"Just got a good sleep," Harry said, smiling brightly as they walked further into the cells.
Malfoy studied him, but there was a note of approval in his gaze. Harry silently thanked the three Pepper Up potions he had drunk before work and turned away.
The man - or portal, really, though Harry couldn't think of him like that - was in the last cell, where they had left him.
"Password?" he rasped as they entered.
"So, just prick the finger, you reckon?" Harry asked dubiously.
Malfoy snorted. "Just prick the finger," he mimicked. "Potter, have you ever heard of a dark spell that required something so hackneyed as just a prick of the finger? No. Have some ceremony, for Merlin's sake."
Harry gritted his teeth. "Actually, Malfoy, as we're both well aware, I'm quite familiar with many dark ceremonies. None of which technically require the complete arsing about that they claim to need."
Malfoy smirked. "I'll chalk you one up for a technicality, Potter, but remember what I said: power, emotion, intent. If you insist on just pricking your damn finger, make sure you mean it."
Harry shot Malfoy a glare, surprising himself with the emotion behind it. For reasons he could barely explain, he was suddenly furious. How dare Malfoy lecture him? How dare Malfoy act as though he knew more than Harry about dark magic? Malfoy's family was dark, but Malfoy was a coward. He might have been present for various rites and spells, or had them recounted to him, but Harry could perform them in his sleep. Not that he would, of course, but that was beside the point.
In a strangely distant part of his mind, Harry acknowledged that he hadn't felt this strongly about anything for quite some time. The feeling had simply surged up out of him like it had a will of its own.
He pulled his sleeve up roughly and raised his wand. Keeping his eyes locked on Malfoy - whose expression had made only the slightest shift into uncertainty, so small Harry wasn't even sure he had seen it - he muttered the spell and dragged his wand over his wrist.
Heavy drops of blood flowed in rivulets down his hand and dripped onto the stone floor. Harry watched them fall, his mind still racing in this strange fury.
"As I take your secrets, I give you my own," he uttered without thinking. This time it was no surprise when the words hissed through his mouth in remembered Parseltongue.
He sealed the cut on his wrist and looked up at Malfoy, who was watching him with an unreadable expression.
"Who knew you had it in you, Potter," Malfoy said finally, raising his own wrist. "Very dramatic." He cast his hex roughly, spitting it out like an expletive, and sliced through his skin just below the Dark Mark. "Read my skin and know my heart," he said through gritted teeth.
Harry frowned. "That wasn't what I said," he protested.
"Potter, you utter, utter moron," Malfoy said, shaking his head as he healed his wrist. "Of course it wasn't what you said. It wasn't a secret code. It was an oath, plain and simple. We aren't likely to be promising the same things here, and besides, if they read your skin they'd get bored pretty quickly." He held up his forearm, the dark snake writhing gently. "If they read mine, things get interesting."
Before Harry could respond, the man stood. Harry and Malfoy turned to watch. Harry was fairly sure he wasn't the only one holding his breath.
The man turned. Harry had the briefest glimpse of two dead eyes hidden by dirty hair, before the man's mouth opened. It stretched wider and wider until the man's face bent back upon itself, and the deep cavern of his mouth filled the space where his body had been. Instead of a man, there was just a portal, so dark that nothing could be seen through it.
Harry shuddered.
"Well, that was probably the creepiest thing I've ever seen," Malfoy said lightly, his mouth twisted into a faintly horrified grimace. "I guess the portal has accepted our offerings then."
"Do we have to do that every time?" Harry asked, not particularly keen for the ritual to be repeated.
"Shouldn't, but who knows?" Malfoy stepped forward. "Come on then, we don't have all day. Wiffleston will run out of carrot sticks soon."
Harry stepped forward, and together the passed through the portal.
On the other side of the portal, it was pitch black.
"Lumos," Harry muttered, holding up his wand. It lit to show a long stone corridor, similar in style to the dungeons, but lacking the same dank wetness that had characterised the cells. Instead, the corridor felt musty and unused. Small alcoves nestled every few metres, but the torches within had long since rotted away.
Harry and Malfoy shared a glance before silently moving forward.
"Potter," Malfoy muttered quietly, as their footsteps fell muffled on the stone floor. "I'm not sure that anyone has been here recently. Look at the dust."
Harry eyed the thick layer of dust and dirt beneath their feet. They had been walking slowly to avoid kicking it up into the air, so it was easy to see that theirs were the only footprints. "There are ways to disguise that," he replied.
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Sure, but why bother? They have to make a blood oath just to get in here. A convincing, believable, oath that meets the requirements of the founders."
"Well, whoever is digging up this potion stash is surely going to be okay with dark magic," Harry replied drily.
"I'm relatively confident that the wizards behind this department would have made it accessible only to those with a strong desire to research dark magic," Malfoy corrected him, raising an eyebrow slightly as if Harry had said something particularly stupid. "They were hardly going to want their secrets made readily available to the criminals they were trying to study."
Harry didn't bother to respond. They kept walking until the corridor reached steps that, strangely, lead up. Just as they set foot on the bottom step, a thud echoed from the top of the stairwell.
Harry froze. Sharing another glance, the pair went silent and began to climb quietly. Harry was expecting the stairs to open onto another corridor, but when they reached the top of the stairs the space opened immediately into a large, circular room.
Harry's jaw dropped. The room looked how Harry's apartment would look without concealment spells. Bookcases lined the walls, while the centre of the room was taken up with what looked like a small potions laboratory. Strange instruments were scattered around the room, either on the floor or on small benches.
"Well, whatever made the noise is going to know we're here," Malfoy said quietly. "We're not exactly hidden. You may as well make it brighter."
Harry spotted several torches around the room, presumably saved by whatever spell had been left in the area to preserve the books and instruments, and lit them with a wave of his wand. The room looked less threatening in the gentle light, and more like a classroom at Hogwarts.
Movement in one of the bookcases caught Harry's eye. He spun around and froze in shock as the pale figure moved through. It stopped in front of the bookcase.
"I must say, this is a surprise," the ghost muttered, peering at the two of them through thick spectacles. "I didn't know we were getting any new recruits." The ghost turned back to the wall he had floated through and yelled. "Barnaby, did you know we were getting new recruits?"
"New shoes?" came a disgruntled voice, muffled through the stone. "What the bleeding hell would we need new shoes for? I swear, Reginald, sometimes I'm quite sure your brain rotted away with your body." A new ghost passed through the bookcases a little to the left of the first, and came to a halt as soon as he saw Harry and Malfoy. His eyes widened.
Both ghosts were dressed in formal wizarding robes that were similar to the Ministry standard today, but significantly frillier. Harry caught Malfoy eying them off with distaste.
"Well," Barnaby blustered. "Fancy that. Fresh meat, as it were." He swooped over to them with alarming haste and extended his hand. "Barnaby Wilston, Research Librarian. Pleasure to meet you."
Harry held out a hand cautiously to Barnaby's own. Barnaby didn't seem perturbed when Harry's hand passed through, and moved quickly onto Malfoy who did the same, his face stiffly polite.
"And this here is Reginald Twoffle. Research assistant."
Reginald flew over to them and nodded formally. Before they could say a word, he turned again and screeched at the top of his lungs. "Mildred!"
Harry could immediately hear someone grumbling in the distance. In a few moments, a smartly dressed witch - much younger than the other two - emerged from a cauldron in the centre of the room.
"What is all this racket?" she snapped. "You'll wake the dead, which I assume was likely your intent, and quite rude indeed since the dead were happily sleeping." She stopped when she saw Harry and Malfoy. "Well, well, well," she said quietly. "Our first intruders. Explain yourselves."
"We're searching for something," Harry said, meeting Mildred's stare. "But if you say we are your first intruders, perhaps what we're searching for isn't here."
"Quite," Mildred sniffed. "It has been blessedly peaceful these last centuries. You are the first to disturb our contemplation."
"Good thing too, by the look of it," Malfoy muttered. Fortunately, Reginald wailed over the top of him, and so no one but Harry heard.
"Oh, let them stay, Mildred," Reginald complained. "We're so lacking in company. Perhaps they could retrieve some new texts for us?"
Barnaby nodded with surprising enthusiasm. "I could compile a list very quickly," he added. "In fact, I've already one written on the topics we need. It would only take a moment."
Mildred held up a hand. "Our department has been closed," she reminded them sadly. "What research we do will never see the light of day, and I hardly think these two wizards have come here to change that." She looked at them sharply.
"Well," Harry said slowly, overwhelmed by Mildred's piercing gaze and the other two ghosts' forlorn expressions. "We haven't, but that's not to say-"
"You see?" Mildred announced, waving her hand at Harry and Draco. "We do not have what they are looking for, and they will not give us what we are looking for. It is best, gentlemen, never to hope too quickly." She turned immediately and headed for the back wall.
"Hang on," Harry said quickly, ignoring the sharp punch to the ribs Malfoy gave him. "If you give us the list, we can see what we can do."
"Fantastic!" Barnaby cried, and disappeared through the floor.
Malfoy groaned.
In a few seconds, Barnaby was back, a slip of parchment floating before him. Harry took it from the air.
"Anything you can find would be most appreciated," Barnaby said as Harry ran his eyes over the list. "And if anyone comes searching for us to hide something away, we'll make sure to return the favour and inform you."
"Thanks, I appreciate it," Harry said, looking up to see Mildred poised, waiting before the back wall, her head partly turned their way. "We'll do what we can."
"Which we're sure will be nothing," Mildred said tightly, still only partly facing them. "Do not over-exert yourself on this fool's errand. We will not be waiting."
Barnaby's face fell, but he nodded reassuringly. "We have time on our side." He smiled. "If you never return, we'll know that it is simply best to wait another century or two until someone seeks us out again."
Harry nodded slowly and did his best to ignore Malfoy's tapping foot on the ground beside him.
"We'll do what we can," he repeated. "Until- until next time." He waved awkwardly and backed toward the stairs.
Malfoy turned and grabbed him by the arm, effectively frog-marching him down the stairs and back to the portal.
"You're a git," Malfoy hissed. "Stupid Gryffindor. The worst kind. Stop trying to help everyone. We've no business here anymore, it was a dead end."
Harry shrugged his arm free. "I know," he agreed. "But I felt bad. Look, I'll only go back if I find anything useful."
Malfoy grabbed him and spun him around until they were face to face. "The last thing you need is to come here," he said seriously, all trace of banter and sarcasm gone from his voice. "There is nothing in that room that you need, and being surrounded by new dark material that is not familiar with your magical trace will only drain your body more. You've only just cleared your apartment. Give yourself some time to adjust. I think you'll find that you don't have quite the same urge to build your collection as you once did." He dropped Harry's arm and stepped back.
Harry stared at him, unsure of what to say. He ended up simply shaking his head - protesting what, he wasn't sure - and stepping through the portal.