Chapter 23: Blood, Bones and Tears

Not for the first time in her life, Rowena found herself following Salazar across the grounds of Hogwarts through the early hours of the morning.

She squinted into the cold, sharp wind and struggled to keep up as he marched downhill, his wand dimly illuminating their path. For a while they followed the outskirts of the dark forest, where sudden noises and suspicious movements made Rowena's stomach tighten.

Salazar broke away from the forest and changed direction across the grass. She realised he was heading towards Hogsmeade, and hoped no one had called an impromptu auction. But no; from what she could gather, he was heading towards the other side of the village, away from the inns and shops and towards the dark houses.

When the outline of the village became clearly visible on the horizon, Salazar stopped and glanced behind him. Rowena hurried forwards and pulled her cloak tighter as a fresh gust of wind hit her face. Once she'd reached him, the light of his wand dimmed further, until only their faces were illuminated by the faint, green light.

'You alright?' he asked, quietly.

Rowena nodded, trying to mute the sound of her teeth chattering.

'Good,' he said, and his voice resumed its usual volume. He set off again slower, so Rowena could walk alongside him. 'Have you brought your wand?'

Rowena nodded again. 'It's in my belt. Where are we going?'

'We're…investigating,' he said, carefully.

'Investigating? What – the murders?'

'Yep.'

Rowena stopped in her tracks, and so did he. It was silly, she knew, but the thought of the pale, dead faces at this time in the morning was enough to unnerve her. 'How are we doing that, exactly?'

He shrugged. 'A few questions, a couple of queries and a bit of exhumation.'

She took half a step back. 'A bit of what?'

'It's necessary.'

'But—'

'You want to know how they died, don't you?'

Rowena squirmed uncomfortably. 'Well, yes, but I don't really want to dig them up and prod their corpses to do so. They were students, Salazar.'

Salazar shrugged and began walking again, with a mumble of, 'I'm sure they won't complain.'

Reluctantly, she ran after him. 'OK, but - but why now? And why me? I'm not very good with things that, er, aren't alive. Not on a full stomach.'

He shrugged. 'Well, surprisingly enough this is probably deemed illegal. And there's something very romantic about digging up corpses under cloak of night, don't you think? Besides,' he added, with a brief glance at her, 'who else would I ask? You might consider it a privilege.'

Rowena was very glad he wasn't looking at her; she'd hate him to notice that she did. Idiot I am, she thought, sadly.

She asked, 'How much do you know about these murders, anyway?'

'Let's not call them murders,' he said hurriedly, 'we don't know what they are, yet.'

'What else could they be—?'

'And I don't know much at all,' he continued, speaking over her, 'only that the kids were in third year and that they were fairly…gouged.'

She tried not to think about it. 'What do you mean, gouged?'

'I don't know what I mean,' he said, dimming his wand further as the village grew closer, 'I never saw them, only their coffins. I'm just going on what I've been told.'

'What were you told? Who found them?'

'The girl was found two days before the boy,' he recounted, 'at the edge of the lake by the groundskeeper, at about six o'clock in the morning. Upside down, bloody, ripped to shreds, half her face missing – you get the idea,' he added, as Rowena covered her mouth with her hands. 'Thought to have died several hours earlier, and certainly not from drowning.'

'What about the boy?' she asked.

'It's not a nice one,' he warned.

'I'll live.'

'Promise? Well,' he cast his mind back for a second or two, and reported, 'the Magical Creatures teacher found him about half a mile or so from the castle, half-buried in the forest.'

'Oh Gods…'

'Similar story: abdomen cut up, leg missing, that sort of thing. Face was undamaged, though. Apparently he went out to send an owl, but it looks like he was dragged away by – er – something. Definitely animal, according to the Magical Creatures man.'

'Oh Gods,' Rowena said again. 'Any – any witnesses, or anything like that?'

Salazar paused before shaking his head. Then he said, 'Although one of the teachers recalls hearing something the night the girl died. Something…howling.'

She winced and held her breath. 'In a dog-like way?'

'Wolf-like, were her exact words.'

They both fell silent and continued their walk.

'Wow,' said Salazar, quietly, 'a good laugh would be worth a lot of money at this point.'

Rowena gave her a half-hearted smile.

'Seriously, Ravenclaw; let's not make this any worse than it has to be. I can't stand despair at this time in the morning.'

'I think it's called respect for the dead, Salazar.'

'No, it's called a mixture of guilt and depression, Rowena. Perk up.'

She obediently attempted to do so.

'Don't do that,' he said, catching sight of her expression, 'you look like a psychopath. Bit more depressed.'

She lowered her grin slightly.

'Bit more.'

And again.

'Hm…bit happier around the eyes – much better.'

'Do you want me to just stay like this? Cause it's making my cheeks cramp.'

'You can vary it if you like.'

'Oh, thank you.'

'Welcome.'

Deciding to address that bouncing ball of venom in the back of her brain, Rowena asked, 'So…er, how did Heather find out about these deaths, anyway?'

He shrugged and rolled his eyes. 'I've no idea. It was meant to be all hushed up.'

'Didn't you ask her?'

'No. I didn't get chance. She's gone off in a mad female strop, for…' he waved his hand dismissively and concluded, 'certain reasons,' as he remembered the "certain reason" in question was walking alongside him.

'Oh,' said Rowena, 'that's a shame.'

'Doesn't matter. She'll have forgiven me already – always does,' he added, with a hint of bitterness.

Rowena didn't see how that was a shame for him, but said it was anyway.

He shrugged again. 'It's inconsistencies, that's all. Bloody inconsistencies…'

'Right.' Probably better not to ask.

'OK,' he said, dimming his wand completely, 'here we are. Grab hold.' He held out his forearm, and Rowena obediently clasped onto him.

They'd reached civilisation: rows of houses of varying shapes and sizes lined the bumpy, muddy streets, and remained perfectly quiet in the darkness. Walking as close to Salazar as was possible, Rowena followed him as he navigated through the backstreets and around the houses that eclipsed their only natural light. Every so often one of them would swear or gasp as they lost footing and slipped down a pothole, but other than that they concentrated all their efforts into maintaining the silence.

After a couple of minutes of clueless stumbling and another lightly sprained ankle, Rowena whispered, 'How far—?'

'Shush.'

Finally the houses seemed to slip away, and out of the darkness loomed another building: tall, expansive, rocky and well-maintained, coloured grey by the moonlight. A field of small headstones wasn't far away.

'Is this it?' Rowena whispered.

'What do you think?' he whispered back.

She groaned slightly. 'I'm grave-robbing. I am literally grave-robbing.'

'No you're not.' He flicked his wand again, and the green light reappeared. 'You're just digging up a corpse from the holy ground in which it lies. Is there a law against that? You can get off my arm now,' he added.

She very quickly did so. 'Yep. Right. I'll, er, light my wand up as well, shall I?'

'It might help. Not too bright.'

'Right.' She illuminated the tip of her wand and, though it was hardly necessary, very carefully left it suspended in the air in front of her. Their lives may have changed hugely over the last few months, but she still wasn't about to pass up an opportunity to out-charm him.

Salazar regarded her efforts with the raised eyebrow of superiority and copied her action. Then he extended one hand and said, 'Accio shovel.' From behind an anonymous grave, it flew into his open palm.

Rowena stared for a second, before saying, 'Accio a slightly bigger shovel.' After a short pause, a shovel that met the mentioned criteria flew at her from the other side of the church. She caught it with a smug grin, successfully disguising the pain it had caused her wrist on impact.

With determination, Salazar began, 'Accio massive…' He caught sight of Rowena's expression and sighed. 'Fine, you win.'

Rowena awarded herself a muted round of applause.

'Now come on,' he said, setting off through the forest of graves, 'let's get digging.'

They quickly located the grave of Terry Cook and, after a further minute or so of searching, that of Hazel McAllen. Salazar stood over hers, marking out the space they needed to dig with the edge of his shovel, while Rowena stood a short distance away, trying to ignore the event.

Once he'd finished, Salazar looked up to ask, 'You alright?'

Rowena nodded.

'Good. Let's, er…' he scratched his chin thoughtfully, and looked between the two graves. 'Let's dig this one up first, shall we? Yeah. Come on.'

Reluctantly, she took her Slightly Bigger Shovel in hand and followed his lead; stab the ground, tilt the shovel, move the mud. Stab the ground, tilt the shovel, move the mud. It was quite therapeutic, really; like knitting. Only instead of a nice woolly scarf and glove set, you ended up with a cadaver.

It was also marginally more difficult than knitting. Their shovels repeatedly clanked into each other, and Rowena had a sneaking suspicion Salazar was becoming slightly competitive about the amount of soil they were moving. So it wasn't knitting; it was a race. It was anything and everything other than grave-robbing.

Pausing to regain his composure, Salazar said, 'I know this is a funny time and place to bring it up, Ravenclaw – oh don't stop there, you're doing such a good job – but I have another idea for the school.'

Rowena glared at him and resumed her digging. 'An idea?'

'Yes. Well technically it was Heather's idea, but I have to admit it's quite a good one.'

Rowena stabbed the ground with a bit more force than was absolutely necessary. 'Yes?'

'How does another party sound to you?'

This time she did stop digging, and looked him in the eye. The glowing wands that hovered overhead distorted his expression in shadow, but she was fairly sure his eyebrows were elevated.

'A party?' she repeated. 'You think now is a good time to be discussing a party?'

He shrugged and said, 'Don't see why not. We could discuss the weather if you prefer.'

'Not a…' she winced, 'another part-ay, is it?'

'There was nothing wrong with that part-ay,' he said, picking up the shovel again and shifting the soil. 'It was a perfectly good part-ay, as far as I recall.'

'That's the point,' she said, 'you don't recall. We got bladdered.'

'No, that's the point. It was fun, once the alcohol started flowing – resume your digging, woman – and besides, this one isn't even going to be a part-ay. It'll be a shin-dig.'

'Oh dear. What's a shin-dig?'

'It's a bit like a part-ay,' he explained, 'to the untrained eye. But it's a lot less self-conscious. More emphasis on having a good time, enjoying the company, rejoicing in—'

'Alcohol, you mean?'

'Yes.'

'No.' She paused briefly to take advantage of the gust of cold wind that cooled her sweat, and said, 'Alcohol is not the way forward, Salazar.'

'That's not what Hat says.'

'Hat is a raggedy old pervert with a nipple fixation and a drink problem. He's not the kind of creature you want to consult when organising any kind of social gathering.'

'I don't know – he has his charms.'

'Hm.' She thought, but didn't say, He's a traitor, that's what he is. Lecherous little swine. 'And who'll be attending this party?'

'Teachers, I suppose. Seventh years, obviously.'

'Obviously,' she muttered.

'And the sixth years, since there aren't many of them. But if we're not allowed alcohol' — their shovels clanged together again — 'we might as well invite the entire school.'

'And you promise not to bring ale?'

'Promise.'

'Promise?'

He looked her in the eye and said, 'Promise.'

Rowena quickly looked away. 'Good. Thanks. Er – oh,' she mumbled, as the edge of her spade made contact with something hard and wooden. 'I think we've got it.'

They both glanced around; apparently, neither of them had realised how far down they'd reached, nor how high the grass around them had become. 'Oh,' said Salazar, 'that's good. Never knew you had it in you, Ravenclaw. Been building up muscle?'

Rowena glanced at her arms and said, 'Nyeh?'

'Well, I'll – er – finish this one off, then. You can make a start of the other one. Remember where it is?'

Rowena nodded. A light scattering of soil still covered the coffin, so she couldn't see it. But it was there, nonetheless, under her feet. She shuddered. 'I remember. Excuse me…'

With a slight struggle and a hand from Salazar, she climbed out of the hollow grave and knelt beside it while he passed up her shovel, showering dirt into his eyes as he did so.

'Sorry,' she mumbled. He waved his hand dismissively. 'I expected it to be deeper. The grave, I mean. Six feet under, and all that…'

Salazar shrugged. 'Laziness prevails. And don't jinx it – I don't want to be digging him up all morning.'

She nodded again. With her wand bobbing overhead, she made the short trip through the graveyard until she came across the headstone of Terry Cook, and made a hasty start. The rumour was true: graveyards were creepy. They were creepiest in the early hours of the morning, when the possibility of pale, dead hands bursting through the soil seemed incredibly likely.

Still, she focused her energies on digging and tried to shut off her imagination. She could still hear Salazar digging nearby, and knew she was safe.

Well, relatively safe. You could never tell with Salazar.

After a few minutes of digging, during which time she didn't get much work done but managed to bruise her chin in two places, Salazar re-emerged from the empty grave and staggered towards her, cursing beneath his breath.

'You alright?' she asked.

'Bloody tree root attacked me,' he muttered, rubbing the back of his calf, 'so I stabbed it with the shovel.'

'It was no more than it deserved.'

'Damn straight. Get digging.'

'Eugh…' She continued her feeble efforts. It was all very well and good for him to stand there providing helpful pointers, but her arms were beginning to seize up and her chin hurt. 'Aren't you going to help?'

'I will in a minute.' He took the shovel in hand in a display of good will. 'What about this shin-dig, then?'

Rowena discreetly rolled her eyes. 'What about it?'

'Can we have one?'

'I really don't think that—'

'It'll be the highlight of your sad and lonely little life,' he promised.

She rolled her eyes again, less discreetly this time. 'Thank you for that. But really, Salazar, I don't have time to organise any kind of party, and neither do you.'

'Shin-dig,' he corrected her, 'it's a shin-dig. We won't be partying, we'll be…digging shins.'

'That doesn't change the fact that we've got work spilling out of our ears, Salazar.'

'All we need to do is turn up – it'll boost morale, and such. Besides, I can just ask Heather to organise everything, I'm sure she won't—argh! You just stabbed me!'

'No I didn't,' said Rowena, hurriedly.

'Yes you did, you violent tart! Ah…' He hopped around the grave for a while and kicked off his shoe to examine the damage. Rowena couldn't see it, but she was fairly sure he was exaggerating.

'Oh, it can't be that bad,' she said.

'You keep digging, butcher. Oh, Christ. There was really no need for that.'

'I didn't do anything!' she insisted. She was almost certain this was true.

'Shush!'

'Oh, you can talk—'

'No, shush!' And then he did something that was near the top of the list of things she wasn't expecting, and in one swift movement tackled her to the ground. As an afterthought, he clamped his hand over her mouth.

Rowena's initial confusion was quickly dispelled when she saw, against the light of the rising sun, a blurred silhouette vanish behind the church. She quickly pushed Salazar's hand away and whispered, 'Accio,' then stabbed their wands tip-first into the ground to extinguish the light.

It was only a few minutes later, when Salazar dared to breathe again, that she was alerted to his current position, which was, largely, on top of her. She glanced briefly at the top of his head and then away again, and decided not to mention it.

Finally he leapt to his feet. After a slightly stunned pause, Rowena clambered up after him.

'Well,' he said, wiping the dust from his sleeves, 'that was uncomfortably close.'

She was about to say "It wasn't that bad" when she realised what he was referring to. 'Oh,' she mumbled, 'yeah. Are they gone?'

'I think so. Did you see who it was?'

Rowena shook her head and set about wiping the mud from her back. 'Did you?'

'No.'

'Villager?' she suggested.

He shrugged. 'Godders?'

'Malfoy?'

'I thought it looked more female, to be honest.' In unison, they said, 'Helga?'

'I doubt it,' said Rowena, as an afterthought, 'she's not much of an early riser. And Nature scares her.'

'Well, somebody was lurking about.'

With forced nonchalance, she said, 'Heather?'

He just shook his head.

Rowena fought the urge to rip his head from his body. 'It's getting light,' she said, to quell the urge. 'We're not going to get this one finished.'

He nodded, grudgingly. 'You're right. We'll need to hurry.' He began to scrape back the soil and grass into the admittedly rather shallow grave, and gestured for her to follow his lead. Rowena did so.

As she patted down another layer of soil, she asked, 'Has Godric ever killed anyone before, do you know?'

Salazar shrugged. 'Few Vikings.'

'Well, that's alright.'

He paused to raise his eyebrows in manner that was meant to inflict a guilty conscious.

'Well – not alright, obviously,' she amended, quickly, 'but, you know. Times of war, and all that. And – oh, you know what I meant.'

'In werewolf form, you mean?' He shrugged again. 'I've no idea. Not the kind of thing I've ever asked him.'

'How did he get bitten?'

He paused, then shrugged yet again. 'No idea. I know they used to bung him in a cage once a full moon at school, though. Then chuck him a portkey and send him off to a forest somewhere.'

'Oh God. How horrible.'

'Stopped him killing people, didn't it?'

'Well…I suppose,' she admitted, reluctantly. 'Does he turn into a full wolf?'

'An incredibly hairy man with a snout, as far as I know.'

Rowena frowned in thought. 'Surely,' she said, pensively, 'he would have planned ahead, wouldn't he? Planned somewhere to go when he…changed?'

Salazar just shrugged again. Neither of them spoke the words they were thinking: Apparently not.

'Well,' said Salazar, as the final layer of earth was flattened with considerable vigour, 'enough of this foppery. Let's go and exhume something.'

'Yay,' said Rowena, flatly.

The coffin was already out of the soil, and lay on the grass beside the vacant grave. As they approached the spot – both walking slowly, willing the other to get there first – Rowena asked, 'What about student involvement? Reckon they could be implicated, somehow?'

'What – kids killing each other?'

'Yeah. Like a cult, or something.'

'I doubt there's any cult activity going on.'

'Good. The last thing I want to walk in on is a pentangle of semi-naked students shouting "Grease the goat! Grease the goat!", or something.'

'You don't see much goat-greasing nowadays,' said Salazar, pensively.

'Probably for reasons of hygiene.'

'Yeah.'

Finally, the walk was over. They crouched beside the closed box, Salazar's hands hovering over it for a second or two. 'Right,' he said, finally, 'let's have a look…'

They had a look.

And afterwards, when Rowena couldn't stem the flow of tears any longer, Salazar extended an arm and pulled her towards him. He held her there for some time, while she cried into his shirt.

Somewhere above her head, she heard him say: 'Didn't deserve that. Even if she was a mudblood.'

I'm not going to say anything. She closed her eyes and leant into him further. Just this once.

Just this once, I'm not going to say anything…