Author's Note: Several goodies in this chapter for the Potter-Lovecraft fans. :)

II.

Present day, late March 1928

Back from the unsatisfactory asylum visit, Dr. Willett rubbed his forehead anxiously. He could not figure out this case himself, he knew. He needed to involve others—people who knew more about the Dark Arts than he did. There were many such people among the faculty at Miskatonic University, of course, but Dr. Willett felt a certain degree of scruple about involving his university colleagues in this. Most of the Dark Arts experts at his university frankly gave the doctor the creeps. Their interest in the subject did not seem quite academic, and the vast majority of them were from families that already seemed to have a hereditary streak of mental illness—the Waites, the Marshes, the Gilmans, the Pickmans. Dr. Willett did not deem it a good idea to involve people he knew were prone to disturbing manias about Dark Arts field research.

His thoughts turned abroad to the witches and wizards in Britain and France with whom he had corresponded before. The best person to contact was Phineas Nigellus Black... but, curse it, old Headmaster Black had died three years ago. The British school was currently headed by Armando Dippet, who Dr. Willett knew was not an expert in dark magic. His mind immediately turned to the school's deputy head, Albus Dumbledore...

Ah, Willett thought with satisfaction. Dumbledore was known to be opposed to the Dark Arts, but unlike his boss, he had specific, knowledgeable reasons for his position and knew the area thoroughly. And it wouldn't be a bad idea to ask his colleague, Horace Slughorn, either. He also knows his material. Dark potions were definitely used in the Ward case, and Horace knows that subject better than Albus.

Willett quickly wrote a letter to the two foreign wizards and considered how to send it. The British—most Europeans, it seemed—still used owls to communicate. It was cruel to use owls for a trans-oceanic trip, but often considered rude and imposing to send an unsolicited letter by Floo. As a result, there was not that much communication across long distances. European and American muggles communicated with each other more than wizards! They really need to stop being so snooty about muggle technology, Willett thought. The telegraph would be ideal for situations such as this. Wizarding Arkham had magically adapted telegraph offices to connect it with the other major wizarding areas in the United States—New Orleans, Roswell, Washington DC, and Philadelphia—but there was no magical telegraphy office at all in wizarding Britain. Well, Albus at least will understand. Gritting his teeth, he dusted the fireplace with powder and requested the personal fireplace of the deputy headmaster of the British school.

The first reply came very quickly, within an hour. "Thank you for the honour of soliciting our assistance in your case. I have discussed the matter with Horace and we will be considering it in greater detail and exchanging theories of what manner of Dark Magic may be involved. We think a face-to-face Floo meeting would be best, however, and wish to know what dates you prefer. –Albus D."

Willett felt relief wash over him at once. Two great minds would be put on the case, and surely between the three of them, they could crack it. Before long, a Floo meeting for the second of April was scheduled.

Willett deemed it advisable, at this point, to refresh himself on the Dark Arts. It had been an unpleasant subject to him during his own days as a student, and his professional specialty—the effect of magical exposure on the untrained or quasi-magical—was not Dark Arts-specific, so he had no particular need to study it more than the university required him to. But this case obviously was saturated with that type of magic, and he did not want to appear a complete ignoramus to the British professors. He Apparated back to Miskatonic and immersed himself in the fabled library as soon as he could, digging into books that he had hoped he had seen the last of when he graduated.

The Necronomicon, fortunately, did not appear necessary. The faculty—even the ones most interested in dark magic, whom Willett trusted the least—looked askance at anyone who claimed a need to read through the university's copy. But other texts were equally unsettling.

The work of dark potioneer Borellus seemed to contain the key to the goings-on at the Pawtucket bungalow. Willett read with a shudder the following passage, which he had seen before in connection with the Ward case:

"The essential Saltes of Animals may be so prepared and preserved, that an ingenious Man may have the whole Ark of Noah in his own Studie, and raise the fine Shape of an Animal out of its Ashes at his Pleasure; and by the lyke Method from the essential Saltes of humane Dust, a Philosopher may, without any criminal Necromancy, call up the Shape of any dead Ancestour from the Dust whereinto his Bodie has been incinerated."

There it was, a frank admission that Inferi could be created not just from fresh kills, but from those long dead. Was that what was going on at the farmhouse? It seemed horribly likely to Willett. He did not want to believe Charles Ward capable of that. It had to be Dr. Allen who had taken the research in this new direction, and that was why Charles had written his frantic note in February. But what was the purpose of doing so? The doctor had, of course, studied Inferi in his student days, but it was emphasized that they were undead, mindless, and enslaved to the will of the dark wizard who animated them. Willett remembered the shipment of remains from Philadelphia that had come to the bungalow; what possible reason would Allen have for making Inferi specifically of the bodies of American founders? No, there had to be more to this... but the doctor did not know what, or where to look for such information. He did not even know what information he was seeking. In frustration, he gave up the search. At least he would have something to tell the professors.

Before leaving the library, Dr. Willett took notes of the preliminary theory he had worked out. When Dumbledore and Slughorn had their Floo conference with him, he would present this theory to them and ask what they thought of it. He would also inquire as to whether they knew of any other forms of Inferi that could be created.

Dr. Willett scrambled in his office to ready it for the joint Floo meeting that he was to have at any moment. He had gone over his notes and written up a short summary of the case as well as he could. His mind had been unsettled—though he had not been overly surprised—by the receipt at the Ward home of a letter from another shady character, a supposed baron from Transylvania—though the letter was signed, suspiciously, Edw. H. This letter, far more so than the "Simon O." missive, was threatening, containing an explicit exhortation to Dr. Allen to murder Charles Ward if he presented difficulties. But even more unnerving was a single sentence from it: "I rejoice that you traffick not so much with Those Outside; for there was ever a Mortall Peril in it, and you are sensible what it did when you ask'd Protection of One not dispos'd to give it." That was a blatant allusion to Joseph Curwen's suspicious demise in 1771. The implications were too horrendous for Dr. Willett to want to face at the moment. He knew that there were Dark Arts tomes in the Miskatonic library that probably held the answer, but for now, he was glad that he had ceased his Dark Arts research with books about Inferi. He was also glad that this letter hadn't arrived until today, when there was no time now to go to the library and work out what this had to mean. It would be so much easier on his nerves to talk about horrible subjects in the comfort of his own sunny study with two other wizards.

The fire in the fireplace sprang to life as the clock chimed. At once it turned green. Albus Dumbledore and Horace Slughorn—or their heads, anyway—appeared in the vivid flames, right on schedule.

"I say!" Slughorn was exclaiming. "Was it just me, Albus, or did that seem stretchier than usual—oh, my apologies!" he said as he saw that Willett was present. "I didn't realize... well, it's good to meet you! Dr. Marinus Willett, I presume?"

Dr. Willett confirmed this. Introductions were made, and at once, Dumbledore urged him to begin a full account of the Ward case, including any recent developments. Willett gave silent thanks for his own organization prior to the meeting and launched his narrative promptly.

The fiery faces of the British professors grew grave as he described the letters from "Simon O." and "Edward H." that had arrived recently. He had given the wizards only a basic overview of the case, not mentioning the Simon O. letter or the connection with the Curwen legend—in fact, he had not mentioned the specifics of the Curwen story at all. This tale, as well as the recent developments with the asylum patient's behavior, made both wizards become deeply unsettled. At last, Dr. Willett told them of his researches in the Miskatonic library and his theory that Dr. Allen was involved in the creation of Inferi. Finishing up his story, he took a drink of water and waited for the eminent professors to respond.

Albus Dumbledore paused, deep in thought. At last he opened his mouth. "Dr. Willett," he said in a hesitant voice, "have you considered the possibility that the character calling himself Dr. Allen is in fact the same Joseph Curwen from the eighteenth century?"

"I have considered it, certainly," Willett said, "as repellent as the idea is. But how could it be? He was dead and buried. Granted," he said, "I am almost certain that Charles did finally find that grave and brought the coffin into his parents' house one night in March of last year. But what good would that do? Supposing that Charles made an Inferius out of Curwen's bones, how could that now be the same person who is walking around with a working mind?" He gazed upon the fiery faces. "Is there some type of Inferius that I've never heard of?"

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "I do think Inferi are a part of the case, as you do. But I am speaking of something else. In your first correspondence with us, you emphasized that there had been a portrait of Curwen that you found suspicious."

"Yes," Willett agreed. "I never had the chance to investigate it closely, but I could tell that when it existed, it was full of dark magic. I also think it influenced the thoughts of the Wards, most especially Charles."

"And you are certain that this portrait was made before Curwen's—downfall, let us say—in 1771?"

"Positive. The man's very existence was hushed up after that. Nobody would have been painting him. Charles was pretty sure it was painted in 1765 based on his readings."

Dumbledore and Slughorn exchanged troubled looks. "Very well. Horace and I have been interested in your account of that portrait too, and, after hearing everything else you have told us of the case, we are pretty sure we know what it was. Dr. Willett, in your studies, have you ever heard of Horcruxes?"

The word hit like a lightning bolt. Dr. Willett had indeed heard of them, many years ago. There was a book—Secrets of the Darkest Art, another Dark Arts tome that he had last seen as a student—that contained a whole chapter about them. It had been too distasteful to study more than his "survey of dark magic" university courses required, but he did remember now. And as he recalled the definition, he realized that the professors were almost certainly correct.

Dr. Willett thought of the old legend about Curwen's demise in 1771. There had been reports of a dark invocation at the very last, followed by shouts, laughter, and then screams of utter terror. There was also a report of a comment often made by one of the leaders: "Pox on that son of a bitch, but he had no business to laugh while he screamed. 'Twas as though the damned bastard had somewhat up his sleeve. For half a crown I'd burn his damned home." A Horcrux, hidden journals with instructions on how to do a resurrection, and—perhaps—a dark spell that would catch at the right person (Charles! Dr. Willett thought unhappily) would certainly count as "something up his sleeve" in the face of death.

"Yes," he said slowly. "You're right—that has to be it. They do reach out and possess people who get too attached to them. They can influence the thoughts of those around them. That's exactly what that accursed painting did. And Joseph Curwen was certainly a murderer many times over. Even before he was suspected of grave-robbery and necromancy, he was suspected of getting into the slave trade to procure human beings that he could practice on."

Dumbledore and Slughorn nodded disgustedly.

"But," Willett continued, "what could become of it? I thought it required something incredibly powerful to destroy one."

"It does," Dumbledore said.

"The potions that Charles had in his laboratory," Willett said. "Do you think they could have destroyed the Horcrux? That was the excuse Charles gave when the painting was ruined." He addressed this question more to Slughorn.

"Based on what you said he was making in there, I can confirm that they are, as you suspected, dark potions that are used in the creation of Inferi from"—he shuddered—"remains that have already decomposed a great deal. But no, to my knowledge, they are not nearly strong enough to destroy a Horcrux."

"There were three distinct dark spells, too," Willett said desperately. He picked up his notes about the case and found the pages where Charles's mother had recorded his chantings from the night last year that Joseph Curwen must have been resurrected. "His mother only could remember two of them. The last was gibberish to her." He held up the pages in front of the sparking faces. "Do these mean anything to you? I know the second one is malevolent, but is there any way either of these could have destroyed a Horcrux?"

Dumbledore and Slughorn examined the handwritten notes. At last they both shook their heads slowly. "I wish you knew what the third spell was," Dumbledore said.

"So do I," Dr. Willett said unhappily. "But the boy's mother wrote these down, and the third was something she had never heard him speak of before."

"It's just possible that it might have been a spell to rehouse the fragment of soul that had been in the portrait in the newly created Inferius," Dumbledore said. "Normally—though, granted, the amount of information on magic as dark as this is very small indeed—normally, it is thought that to get a piece of soul out of a Horcrux and into a living body of its own requires a death. However, that may only be if there is no body already existing for it to incarnate." He paused darkly. "You have said that Curwen looked identical to Charles. Are you certain that young Charles was seen alive after these events last year?"

Dr. Willett thought back. "Yes," he finally said. "Last fall, after he moved out of the family mansion, the residents of Pawtuxet saw him and Allen. Also, in January, when he was questioned about that appalling shipment, Dr. Allen was seen right next to him. And the frantic letter, when he made his last visit to his parents' home—that was definitely Charles."

"Hmm," Dumbledore said. "Well, in that case, that third spell must have been some dark magic to rehouse the fragment of soul. I am unaware of what such a spell could be, but I will certainly see what I can find."

"But wait a second," Willett said, frowning as something occurred to him. "I thought that Horcruxes kept the entire soul earthbound—that even if the original body were completely destroyed, a Horcrux would keep that fragment of soul from departing. What became of that fragment of soul, then? Why would it not be the part that would be rehoused in a resurrection ritual?"

"I was reminded of what you told us today regarding the Hutchinson letter that just arrived and the old story of Curwen's demise," Dumbledore said. "No one in the raiding party took credit for striking the fatal blow, correct?"

"Not that I am aware of." He thought about the letter, of which Mr. Ward had the original, but he had surreptitiously created a duplicate. "'You are sensible what it did when you ask'd Protection of One not dispos'd to give it,'" Willett read aloud. "Great God! There was a rumor that he had been taken out by something that he summoned... You don't suppose it took his soul?" A chill rippled down Willett's spine.

"It's possible," Dumbledore said gravely. "Dementors, as you know, can do that, and a Horcrux will offer no protection whatsoever."

"That's true," Willett said. "Some of my faculty colleagues know of others—or Others, capital, as they would say—that could cross barriers and take victims' souls with them."

"Indeed. Curwen may have tried to call for aid from some dark being of this sort, and instead, it chose to remove him."

"But if the simulacrum walking around today is animated by the soul fragment that was in the Horcrux, how could it have that memory, as that letter says?" Willett asked. "How could it be 'sensible' of any such thing?"

"How indeed," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "Again, I think the answer must lie with that unknown third spell. My guess would be that it is a spell that can also pull back the soul from beyond the Veil—if there is another fragment of soul anchoring it on the earth, of course."

"And such a spell could destroy a Horcrux?"

"Any spell of that sort would be incredibly powerful, so it's a possibility. It seems to me that the facts indicate either this, or the other theory—that the simulacrum is animated by the soul fragment from the painting."

In the portentous silence following this statement, Dr. Willett considered the patient in the asylum. It did seem that the three of them had worked out the true identity of Dr. Allen. The identity of the mental patient was a bit harder to work out, but in light of this new theory, there seemed to be two possibilities, neither good. If that really was Charles, then he had been possessed by one of the pieces of Curwen's soul. That was the only rational way to explain his recent behavior, so unlike Charles and so anachronistic. But then, where was Curwen? No, that did not seem likely. Alternately, the patient was Curwen, and Charles was detained somewhere—presumably underground. Or possibly even—but Dr. Willett would not allow himself to complete that black thought.

"I will investigate the bungalow as well as I am able," Dr. Willett said. "I suspect that that infernal wizard is currently away, and the spell we're speculating about is bound to be written down prominently somewhere."

"I quite agree," Dumbledore said, "but please take care if you attempt that."

"Naturally."

"This Curwen," Slughorn said tentatively, "just for my own curiosity, because he does seem to have been quite talented, though of course in a horrible, dark way... was he from a pureblood family?"

"He was," Willett replied. "We keep a very close eye on interbreeding, because it is so strongly frowned upon, and it is only some renegade branches of families—primarily in Innsmouth—who engage in it." He scowled. "Unfortunately, Curwen's dark activity cannot be blamed on a contaminated family tree."

Slughorn looked confused. "I'm not sure I quite understand—" he began to say.

Albus Dumbledore quickly broke into the discussion and, as briefly as he could, explained the differences in linguistic evolution across the Atlantic—how, because of some foul mating practices in a dark cult in Innsmouth, in America the terms "pureblood" and "halfblood" (and "mixed-blood") had come to mean the amount of human ancestry in a wizard and the ancestry of fully human "muggle-born" wizards was irrelevant.

At the end of the explanation, Slughorn looked embarrassed, and Willett looked disdainful. "I see!" he exclaimed. "So there is a faction in your country that thinks the muggle-born shouldn't have rights! I suppose they would rather have hundreds of untrained magicals wandering around in the broader community, completely ignorant of magic and susceptible to any spirit entities whose attention they inadvertently drew! I would like to invite them to take a good look at Arkham and see how well that would work. That is the very problem we're grappling with, except it's about late-blooming wizards and psychically active squibs."

"You are quite right," Dumbledore agreed. "Unfortunately, I doubt that they would see it that way. People have an incredible ability to twist their interpretation of a fact to reinforce whatever they already want to believe." He cleared his throat, sending sparks up in Willett's fireplace. "But this is neither here nor there. I'm afraid, Dr. Willett, that Horace and I have to get back to our teaching duties, so we must conclude this meeting. But I agree with you that an investigation of that bungalow, and the crypt that undoubtedly lies beneath, is necessary. Do take precautions when you do so. There are bound to be foul curses throughout."

"No doubt," Willett agreed. "Well, thanks so much for your time and insight. I think that progress has been made... and I hope that more is coming soon."

End Notes: I cannot accept that across the entire world, wizarding cultures would have the exact same political issues and social customs. That didn't happen in the "muggle" world, and there is no reason it would have happened with wizards, especially given the barriers of communication, as I have speculated in this chapter.

Finally, there is a reason Tom Riddle is listed in the summary as a character, and it is probably possible to guess what that reason is. He'll show up in chapter III.