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-o0o-
There was the gentle scuff of shoe on stone as the girl contemplated the information she had been given. Lord Voldemort would rise again, and it would be Harry's responsibility to stop him, but she would need to be there. Perhaps the prophecy was wrong, or perhaps she was the power that the Dark Lord knew not. That was probably it. Hermione would be responsible for teaching Harry the spells he needed to know to stop Voldemort. He, of course, would give full credit to her. They would give her an Order of Merlin and she would be adored by all.
Hermione cursed as she searched the halls. In their last lesson the headmaster had pointed out the flaws he had observed in her spell-casting when she had rid the world of the immediate presence of Voldemort. He had then reviewed her ability to perform the other important spells in her arsenal. His critique was not good, so she found herself wandering the halls searching for an out of the way place to practice. The headmaster had been clear, she could not be caught, there was no excuse he could offer that would get her out of trouble if she was. Hermione wished she spoke Parseltongue, from the description Ron and Harry had given in second year, the Chamber of Secrets would have been perfect. She would never admit it out loud, but she was rather jealous of Harry's ability. He had a whole other pool of magic available to him. It was such a waste. The boy would never amount to anything, being too dense to see the opportunities he had been given. It should have been her; she would not have squandered the skill like he had.
Finally, she stumbled on an out of the way empty classroom. It looked to have been used for potions at one time, with raised benches, shelves lining the walls and a cupboard that still held the odd bottle with grotesque looking contents. With a thick blanket of dust on every shelf, it had clearly not been used in some time.
With a satisfied smile she transfigured a button that she had pinched from the Transfiguration classroom into a beetle and began practicing.
"Imperio!" she whispered the spell and made the beetle dance, its little legs skittering across the desk..
"Crucio!" the results were disappointing as the beetle only froze in place. Recasting made no difference. How was she to know it worked if the thing didn't make noise!
Frustrated she finally cast, "Avada Kedavra." If it had not been for the green flash, she would not have known if that spell worked either as the beetle merely remained still. A second after the final spell the transfiguration failed, and the beetle returned to its original form.
Picking up the button, Hermione examined it for any mark to show the curses she had cast upon it. Its matte black surface was unmarked. How was it then that Harry had gotten his scar? It was well known that the Killing Curse left its victims unmarred. Admittedly they were also dead. How exactly had it been done? Had Voldemort even used that spell on him? Sure, the scar was in the shape of the wand movement but still. If he had though how had Lily Potter stopped it from working?
Determination to figure out what Lily Potter had done gripped her. The ridiculousness of everyone thinking that Harry had somehow bought about the Dark Lord's downfall made her laugh out loud. He could barely tie his own laces. At fifteen months he probably could not even speak. And Dumbledore had told her how James Potter had been a narcissistic bully. It was the reason he had insisted that Harry be raised by Petunia and Vernon. They had provided him the discipline required so that he would not follow in his father's footsteps. Not that the ungrateful brat saw it that way. Being spoilt, James Potter had everything in life handed to him on a silver spoon, killing any sort of curiosity while Lily, filled with wonder at the Magical world as all Muggleborns were, would have soaked up all the information she could find. Of the two it had to have been Lily Potter.
If she knew how Harry had survived, then she could replicate it and do the same. Surely it could not be that difficult, after all Lily Potter had not had the same resources as she, had not been taken under the wing of the most amazing wizard to every live. Perhaps she was bright, but she was not the brightest witch of the age. Hermione was sure she could figure it out and when she did, she would be immortal. But to unravel what Lily had done Hermione needed an intimate knowledge of the spell itself.
With a frown she glanced around the room. What she wanted was something larger so that she could truly gauge how well she had cast the spells. Tilting her head to the side she saw a phial lying discarded on one of the shelves.
"Avifors." With a twist the glass became a robin which hopped docilely around the desk giving off happy little tweets.
This would work so much better. Hermione smiled and raised her wand.
-o0o-
Severus looked around the room at the bent heads of the eight students he had in detention. Oddly, they were utterly silent, each staring intently at a steaming cauldron. They siphoned off samples to peer at and add powders too. They cast revealing spells and smelled the fumes, writing notes on their findings.
"Your time is up! Vanish your potions and tidy your desks. Your reports can be handed in with your next Defence essay. I expect it will be a fortnight before I have ample excuses to see you all again. And we will not be able to use this particular classroom, so we will cover some advanced theory and discuss what you have discovered about your potions today. If anyone asks, you have spent your evening writing out chapter five of your defence text. Which should give you a clue as to what your next lesson will cover."
Each student vanished the contents of their cauldron and quickly cleaned their study space as their teacher disappeared into an adjacent room.
"I swear we get more done in a single detention then we do in a whole weeks' worth of classes," Terry Boot commented to Harry. "I understand antidotes so much better now."
"It helps that no-one is trying to throw extra ingredients into our cauldrons," Harry agreed.
"The new desks are amazing," Padma sighed, wiping the tabletop clean. "I wonder why we didn't have them before now?"
"I can't imagine Snape not asking for them, so someone must have made sure the governors turned the application down."
"If a request even went to the board," Blaise frowned. "Well, I guess I'll see you all in our next detention."
Most of the group left quickly after that, only Percival and Harry remained behind. They made their way to the door at the back of the classroom.
"Severus?" Harry called.
"Yes, Mr Potter," that deep voice called back.
"They've all gone now."
"Were you seeking an extended detention then?" Severus appeared with a smirk.
"I just had to ask you something," Harry smiled a little.
Severus tipped his head to the left a little and raised a brow.
"Was this yours?" with a swift movement, Harry pulled a dog-eared copy of Advanced Potion Making, from his bag and held it out.
"Where did you find that?" Severus asked curiously, taking the book and flipping it over.
"Hermione, it fell out of her bag last year," Harry admitted. "I've had it since."
"And why would you think it mine?"
"It's got some of the same notes as mum's," Harry shrugged, drawing out his beloved copy of the same text. "I like mum's better 'cause it's heaps easier to read and she has this-"
"Way of explaining things," Severus completed the sentence with a small smile. "Yes, she did. She had an intuitive understanding of potions. We worked on them together up until the end of our fifth year." Flicking through the pages his forehead creased, "There are spells in here, have you tried them?"
"Sirius banned us from trying them without an adult," Harry pouted.
"Really?" Severus pressed, "So you never tried any of them?"
"We might have tried a couple before we told him about it," Harry admitted, "but Percival figured out that some of them weren't very … nice."
"No, I am ashamed to admit some of them were not at all pleasant, in fact they were decidedly nasty." He ran a finger down the page that had the word 'Sectumsempra' written on it. "I thought I was so clever," he said in a hushed voice. "Lily and I had found a book on spell creation at the start of fifth year. It took some time before I created my first spell, Muffliato. It was very useful. I created others that were slightly less benign. Then after our O. , James and Sirius attacked me, using one of my own spells. Your mother came to defend me but, in my anger, and embarrassment I called her something I should not have. In truth I was already under the sway of Tom Riddle. He took my bitterness and anger and honed them into weapons. I spent the entire summer trying to invent a spell so that I would never again feel as powerless as I did that day. One that would prove my worthiness to the Dark Lord. I succeeded. Your mother found my book at the start of the following year and read the spell. Of course, she figured out what it did and that is when she truly gave me up as lost. It was the disappointment I saw in her face that made me try and create a countercurse. It took half a year, but I managed it. I wrote her a card and slipped it into her pocket at our graduation only the one spell written on it. Vulnera Sanentur."
"She used it," Harry said looking at Severus. "As a base to create the charm to heal curse amputated limbs."
Severus smiled then, "I had hoped that she hadn't just thrown it away."
"I thought you should know that Ron doesn't want to give the book back either," Harry grinned.
"I had wondered how the pair of you were doing so much better in class. Horace brags about you none stop, my three stars, he calls you."
"It's not just your notes," Harry protested.
"Yes, it's your mother's too."
"She explains it so well," Harry whined. "I'm not giving her book up! But seriously the new desks mean we don't have random ingredients ending up in our cauldrons, the room is quieter, Hermione is at the desk behind us, so we don't have her jumping about and banging the table and we've been working really hard!"
"Yes, I can see that you have. I am not asking you give up the texts. Though I do wish you had paid attention and put in that much effort when I was teaching potions."
"I would have if you had bothered to teach properly, all I learnt from you was not to breathe too loudly," Harry poked out his tongue childishly. "Why could you not have taught us what's in your notes?"
"Maybe it was because I got tired after so many years of dunderheads," Severus said without bite. "Harry, I do not want you to try some of those spells."
"You got this from Hermione?" Percival interrupted suddenly.
"Yeah, it fell out of her bag after potions."
"Do you think she tried the spells?" Severus asked.
"No after Ginny's diary in second year she wou …" Harry froze before he whispered, "She tried all of our first-year spells before she even hopped on the train."
Percival grimaced, "Yeah, I bet she tried all of the spells."
Goosebumps ran down Harry's limbs and he shivered, "That is a very, very bad thing."
Severus turned from them, and flicked his wand, two of the chairs became mannequins.
"You will both learn the counter curse, and I will issue a detention to Mr Weasley and Mr Longbottom so they can attempt to learn it as well."
"What about the guys who were in detention tonight?"
"Do you trust them?"
"Is this about trust? Shouldn't we get the counter curse out there so if people start using that spell again, lots of people know how to counter it?"
"It is a difficult spell to perform, much harder than the curse itself. If they know you can perform it, it tells them much about your strength and abilities. Sometimes it is better to hide your skills-"
"So you are underestimated, I get it," Harry nodded, "but everyone already knows I can produce a Patronus, isn't that just the same?"
"Most believe you learnt it last year. Which is much more reasonable than third year. In addition, it does not require the same level of control and endurance as this."
Harry gulped, "Do you think I can do it?"
"You will practice it with me, and only with me," Severus said sternly, "then we shall see."
"Why just with you? Wouldn't it be better if we practiced it as often as we can?"
With a sigh, Severus looked exasperated, "How did you feel when you were learning to cast your Patronus? Could you cast it many times in a row immediately?"
"No," Harry grudgingly admitted. "I failed to cast even a shield for ages, and I was really tired. Remus used to give me chocolate."
With a snort, Severus stifled a smile, "This will be just as bad, if not worse, and there will be no chocolate." He drew his wand and cast a slashing movement at each of the dummies, great gashes appeared in the torsos, causing Harry to pale as he imagined the harm it could do to one of his friends.
"Now," Severus waved the boys over to one of the mannequins, "You place your wand tip at the part of the cut closest to the heart and move away along the line of the incision as you say the counter curse. It needs to be repeated at least three times for each wound. Once to stop the blood flow, once to clear the dark magic and the last to close the wound. This will not prevent scarring; dittany will still need to be applied." He demonstrated, holding his wand steady over the wound, and tracing its length. The gash closed as if it were zippered shut. "Now Harry you first. Concentrate on wanting to stop the bleeding, wanting the wound to be cleansed and closed. Imagine it. VUL-ner-ah sah-NEN-tour," he emphasised the pronunciation.
Harry knelt beside the dummy and raised his wand over the slash on its chest. His hand shook.
"VUL-ner-ah sah-NEN-tour, Vulnera Sanentur, Vulnera Sanentur," he tried to copy the singing tone that Severus had demonstrated. The gash had not closed in the slightest, though he thought the edges might have fluttered a little.
"Your turn Percival."
The process was repeated, with Percival achieving a more active waving of the sides of the incision he had selected. Severus corrected their tone and had them try again. On the third try Harry managed to get the edges of the wound to lay down flat and Percival managed to get the incision to close just one inch.
"That is enough," Severus said firmly.
"No, I can do it again," Harry said. "Just one more try."
"No, Harry."
"Please Sev! What if she casts it on someone?"
"Then I am here, you will call me. Use that patronus you are already known for," Severus said simply. "It's going to take time for you to learn this skill. Now go straight to the Tower and have Dobby bring you something to eat. Make sure it is more nutritious than chocolate."
"But Sev …" Harry turned wide eyes on Severus.
The dour man was unimpressed, "Remus should have known better."
"Fine."
"You both did very well. Now off you go," Severus shoo'ed them from the room.
-o0o-
The phials tinkled gently as a long, wrinkled finger ran along their cork stoppered tops causing them to jostle against one another. An owl swooped by the window as the man turned his plans over in his mind. The Horcrux had been removed from the Gaunt shack and the only thing he could ascertain was that it had not been Severus. The man had not been lying when he said that he had not been leaving the castle much. A scan of his fireplace revealed that the man had only floo'ed to a single unidentifiable destination. From Severus' own mouth he knew that it had to be Sirius' abode. Nominating the Black townhouse as the address would take you to the wards but not allow you inside until admitted due to the Fidelius. He wondered how Severus had manipulated Sirius into letting him inside multiple times given their animosity. Perhaps it was Sirius' loyalty to Albus and the order. With a shake he concluded that it did not matter, it was a connection to his biggest pawn and a backup plan if any of his other schemes were discovered (not that he would call them schemes no, that sounded so Machiavellian. No, they were grand visions. The things he had to do were mere steps along the path towards that marvellous future). Severus would make the perfect scapegoat should any spells or devices be found on the boy, after all he had access to the boy's home.
It was perplexing that Voldemort had made no moves yet. Albus had been sure that he would have taken steps immediately to arrange his return however there had been no signs as yet, not so much as a whisper. Obviously, he had been correct, and the boy needed a push. Which led him back to the missing Horcrux. The ring was not the only one he knew the location of, though he would need to refresh his memory of the location.
A smile danced over his lips as he selected the desired phial, popped the cork with a practiced hand and tipped the silvery contents into the Penseive. A house elf holding the hand of a black-haired boy appeared with a pop in the centre of the cave into which he had fallen. The boy was holding his wand aloft, the faint ball of light glowing at the end only illuminated a small circle around the pair. Hands still clasped; the elf led the boy to a portion of rock surface that appeared identical to all that surrounded it. Their backs were to the watcher, so he could not see what allowed the brilliantly lit archway to appear in front of them. Without looking back, they walked away from the man who watched.
The boy had already tried to contact his brother before he left on his mission, fortunately the headmaster had trained his elves well and every letter was intercepted and returned unopened. The man watching as they disappeared into the darkness, snorted in amusement, it was that soft heartedness that was the reason the boy had outlived his usefulness, he would never return to Voldemort's ranks. He did not have the heart of a Death Eater and the others would sense it. They were circling the boy likes sharks on prey. He was a liability, a risk, and should one of the others attack him because of his weakness then the watcher's plans would be undone. The archway faded back into a rocky wall, with no other visible egress the watcher apparated out of the cave onto a boulder which provided a clear line of sight to the fissured opening which led to the cave, with a smirk he sealed the crack in the rock and cast a spell to tell him if any magical creature breeched the opening. In the last fifteen years it had never been activated.
Dumbledore emerged from the Penseive, glancing out the large arched window that provided most of the light for the room while he gathered his thoughts. In the distance a team of players could be seem practicing quidditch, they were too far away to see the colour of the robes, but the way that the smallest figure was diving, and swooping made him sure that it was the Gryffindors. Perhaps it was time for him to return to his roots. He had been a Gryffindor once. Aberforth always said he should have been in Slytherin as he had ambition in swathes, but then the younger would add that given he usually just made up his plans as he went along, perhaps Gryffindor was the right place for him after all. He had cultivated a certain persona over the years, the bookish gentleman, who learnt strange and unusual spells but was a bit eccentric. The eccentricity he used to cover so many things. When one was eccentric people forgot how brilliant you were, they assumed you were harmless. It lulled opponents into a false sense of security.
Sometimes though you just needed to take the bull by the horns. Tomorrow if he pushed his paperwork onto Minerva (that was her job as deputy after all), he would free up the morning to return to the cliff by the sea. The quidditch players zoomed to the ground, and with brooms throw over their shoulders made their way back to the castle under the watchful gaze of Albus Dumbledore.
-o0o-
Care of Magical Creatures had ended, and Hagrid had disappeared around the corner of his hut taking the Erklings they had been studying with him.
"Did Hagrid seem, like upset or something?" Ron asked as Harry bent down to pick up his bag.
"Yeah, I can't believe we haven't been to visit him yet this year. Do you think he is mad?"
It was not a conscious decision, three sets of feet merely began walking towards the gamekeeper's hut. There a great grey Hippogriff, was tethered in front of Hagrid's cabin. She clicked her razor-sharp beak at their approach and turned her huge head towards them.
"Have you met a Hippogriff before?" Ron asked Percival. "Buckbeak was friendly enough, even let Harry ride him."
Percival watched cautiously as Harry stepped forwards and bowed low to the Hippogriff without breaking eye contact or blinking. After a few seconds, the Hippogriff sank into a bow too.
"How are you?" Harry asked her in a low voice moving forwards to stroke the feathery head. The beast chirruped, ruffled its feathers and fluffed out her wings as Harry scratched along the ridged shaft of her head feathers. "Missing him? He's with Newt Scamander now and being well looked after."
"Oi!" said a loud voice.
Hagrid had come striding round the corner of his cabin, now wearing a flowery apron and carrying a sack of potatoes. His enormous boarhound, Fang, was at his heels; Fang gave a booming bark and bounded forwards.
"Git away from her! She'll have yer fingers – oh it's you lot."
Fang was jumping up at Percival and Ron, attempting to lick their ears. Hagrid stood and looked at them all for a split second, then turned and strode into his cabin, slamming the door behind him.
"What?!" said Harry looking stricken, clearly, he had upset the half-giant somehow.
"Don't worry about it," said Ron grimly. He walked over to the door and knocked loudly.
"Hagrid! Open up, we want to talk to you!"
There was no sound from within.
"If you don't open this door, we'll blast it on the spot!" Ron said.
"Ron, you can't say that," Harry said somewhat shocked.
"It works with my brothers," Ron replied nonchalantly. "Besides if it comes to it I'm sure Percival ca–"
Before Percival could refute the claim, the door flew open again as Ron had known it would, and there stood Hagrid, glowering down at them and looking, despite the flowery pinny, positively alarming.
"I'm a teacher," he roared. "A teacher not one of yer ruddy brothers! How dare yeh threaten ter break down my door."
"Sorry, sir," said Harry, looking down at his shoes, hands fidgeting in the hem of his shirt.
Hagrid looked stunned.
"Since when have yeh called me 'sir'?"
Harry didn't speak, keeping his eyes locked on the toes of his boots.
"Harry?" Hagrid asked more unsurely.
Those verdant eyes lifted to meet the black eyes that were nearly hidden the half giant's facial hair, full of doubt, worry and a little fear.
Hagrid sighed, "I shouldna' have yelled." He stood to the side to let them pass into the hut. "Well? Finally remembered I existed did yer? Feelin sorry for me? Reckon I'm lonely or summat?"
"No," said Harry at once. "We wanted to see you. We missed you."
"Missed me, have yeh?" snorted Hagrid. "Yeah righ'."
He stomped around, brewing tea in his enormous copper kettle, muttering all the while. Finally, he slammed down three bucket-sized mugs of mahogany-brown tea in front of them and a plate of his rock cakes.
"Hagrid," Harry said timidly, when he joined them at the table and started peeling his potatoes with a brutality that suggested that each tuber had done him a great personal wrong, "We wanted to visit just this year, there's just so much-"
Hagrid gave another great snort. Ron rather thought some bogies landed on the potatoes and was inwardly thankful they were not staying for dinner.
"They did," Percival said firmly. "You know they are starting work towards N.E. . Harry is taking eight subjects and Ron has seven subjects plus prefect duties and the co-captaincy of the Quidditch team. Over half the team is new so they have had to practice more than usual and most of the teachers seem to be copying Snape's idea on detentions, so there is rarely an evening that we are not doing assignments or in detention."
There was a funny squelching sound and they all looked around; Ron leapt out of his seat and hurried around the table away from the large barrel standing in the corner that they had only just noticed. It was full of what looked like foot-long maggots; slimy, white and wriggling.
"What are they, Hagrid?" asked Harry, trying to sound interested rather than revolted, they looked worse than flobberworms.
"Just' giant grubs," said Hagrid.
"And they grow into …?" said Ron, looking apprehensive.
"They won' grow inter nothin'," said Hagrid. "I got 'em ter feed ter Aragog."
And without warning, he burst into tears.
"Hagrid!" cried Harry, leaping up, hurrying around the table and patting Hagrid awkwardly on the shoulder. "What is it?"
"It's … him …" gulped Hagrid, his beetle-black eyes streaming as he mopped his face with his apron. "It's … Aragog … I think he's dyin' … he got ill over the summer an' he's not getting' better … I don't know what I'll do if he … if he … we've been tergether so long …"
Harry's hand dropped to his side, looking at a complete loss for anything to say. He had known Hagrid to present a vicious baby dragon with a teddy bear, seen him croon over giant scorpions with suckers and stings, but this was perhaps the most incomprehensible of all his monster fancies; the gigantic talking spider, Aragog, that resided deep in the Forbidden Forest and from whom he and Ron had narrowly escaped four years previously.
"Is there – is there anything we can do?" Harry asked ignoring Ron and Percival's frowns.
"I don' think there is, Harry," choked Hagrid attempting to stem the flood of his tears. "See, the rest o' the tribe … Aragog's family … they're getting a bit funny now he's ill … bit restive …"
"Yeah I think we saw a bit of that side of them," said Ron in an undertone.
"… I don' reckon it'd be safe fer anyone but me ter go near the colony at the mo'," Hagrid finished blowing his nose hard on his apron and looking up. "But thanks fer offerin' …"
"What if it was someone who knows creatures?" Percival asked thoughtfully.
"Someone who might have met Aragog before?" Harry added realising the option Percival had thought of.
"Don' be silly, no-one goes that deep into the fores'"
"I bet Newt Scamander did," Harry said.
"Newt …" Hagrid said frowning..
"He took in Buckbeak. He's bound to have some ideas. If the spiders are getting so upset, then they can't continue living where they are. It's too close to the school, it isn't safe," Percival saw that Hagrid was about to protest so continued on, "You said yourself, that you didn't think it was safe for anyone else to go near them. Snape goes into the forest to collect potions ingredients, as do the seventh year Herbology classes."
"It can't hurt to send him a letter, can it?" Ron added.
Hagrid sniffed once more before saying a gruff thank you and clearing his throat roughly.
After that the atmosphere lightened considerably, for although none of the boys had shown any inclination to go and feed giant grubs to a murderous, gargantuan spider, Hagrid seemed to take it for granted that they would have liked to have done and became his usual self once more.
"Always knew yeh'd find it hard to squeeze visiting me inter yeh timetables," he said gruffly, pouring them more tea.
"There's so much homework to do," Ron complained. "I think they're trying to kill us. Death by assignment!" He slumped exaggeratedly to bump his head against the table.
"And I've had a detention every night this week," Harry groaned exaggeratedly, causing Hagrid to chuckle.
Between their complaints about their workload, the promise of Newt Scamander's help and their genuine regret at not catching up with him sooner, by the time Hagrid waved them off the premises at dusk, he looked quite cheerful.
"I'm starving," said Harry, once the door closed behind them and they were hurrying through the dark deserted grounds; none of them had been brave enough to try Hagrid's rock cakes. "And I've got another detention with Severus tonight."
"At least you know he'll let you eat dinner there if you miss out," Ron pointed out.
As they came into the castle they spotted Cormac McLaggen, talking with Hermione. She was leaning with one leg bent up foot flat, against the wall, he was facing her resting on his shoulder. As they approached Hermione looked down demurely then laughed at something McLaggen had said, throwing her head back, eyes sparkling in delight.
Ron snickered as the arm McLaggen was leaning on, slipped and he lost his balance falling on top of Hermione with a grunt.
"Do you think McLaggen's been confounded?" Harry asked quietly. "He's usually less clumsy than that." Hermione blushed and looked up through her eyelashes at McLaggen as she helped him upright.
"Who cares? He's a right git. They deserve each other," Ron replied with a shrug as they hurried towards the enticing smell of roast beef that was emanating from the tables.
They had barely taken three steps towards the Gryffindor table when Professor Slughorn appeared in front of them, blocking their path.
"Harry, Harry, just the man I was hoping to see!" he boomed genially, twiddling the ends of his walrus moustache and puffing out his enormous belly. "I was hoping to catch you before dinner! What do you say to a spot of supper tonight in my rooms instead? We're having a little party, just a few rising stars. I've got McClaggen coming, and Zabini, the charming Melinda Bobbin – I don't know whether you know her? Her family owns a large chain of apothecaries – oh and, of course Miss Granger. And Perhaps Mr Graves might be interested?"
It was as though Ron was not present: Slughorn did not so much as look at him.
"I can't come, Professor," said Harry immediately not bothering to feign regret. "I have detention with Professor Snape."
"Oh dear!" said Slughorn, his face falling comically. "Dear, dear I was counting on you, Harry! Well now, I'll just have to have a word with Severus and explain the situation. I'm sure I'll be able to persuade him to postpone your detention. Yes, I'll see you both later!"
"Professor, I would prefer not to have my detention rearranged. Besides both Ron and Percival have detention as well, so neither of them would be able to attend either," Harry said as if Slughorn had meant to ask Ron as well and merely forgotten.
Ignoring Harry's words, the large man bustled away out of the Hall.
"Thank the Gods, he hasn't a chance of persuading Severus," Harry said the moment Slughorn was out of earshot.
After dinner they made their way back to the Gryffindor Tower. The common room was very crowded, as most people had finished dinner by now, but they managed to find a free table and sat down; Ron, who had been in a bad mood ever since the encounter with Slughorn, folded his arms, rested his head against the chair back and frowned at the ceiling. Percival reached out for a copy of the Evening Prophet that someone had left abandoned on a chair.
"Anything new?" said Harry.
"Yeah," Percival said with a frown. "There's a missing persons add: Mauve Bickle missing from Everton Park, last seen visiting St Mungo's for a pre-natal check-up last Wednesday."
Harry sat up straight, "Do you think it's Riddle?"
"Hard to tell," Ron said putting aside his annoyance. "She might've just decided to go and visit her mother or something."
Harry slumped back into his chair.
"Still point it out to Sirius tonight. It might be nothing but then again …"
-o0o-
With a faint pop and the uncomfortable sensation of being squeezed through a rubber tube, Albus Dumbledore disappeared from his office in the headmaster's tower, reappearing a moment later to breathe fresh salty air. He looked out as the sun rose over the sea, sending a cascade of oranges and reds, dancing on the waves. A light, chilly breeze ruffled his beard. He was standing upon a high outcrop of dark rock, water foaming and churning below him. A glance over his shoulder revealed a towering cliff with a sheer drop, black and faceless. A few large chunks of rock, such as the one upon which he stood, looked as though they had broken away from the cliff face at some point in the past. It was a bleak, harsh view: the sea and the rock unrelieved by any tree or sweep of grass or sand.
The headmaster made his way to the very edge of the rock, where a series of jagged niches that made footholds led down to boulders that lay half-submerged in water and closer to the cliff. It was a treacherous descent. The spray as the waves crashed against the rocks, made the rock as slippery under hand as foot. A short way from the bottom on the last truly sturdy foothold he paused, wand tracing a complicated series of arcs in the air. Having removed the enchantment blocking the fissure, he carefully continued down the last few steps.
"Lumos," said Dumbledore, as he reached the boulder closest to the cliff face. A thousand flecks of golden light sparkled upon the dark surface of the water a few feet below where he crouched; the black wall of rock beside him was illuminated too.
With the agility of a much younger man, Dumbledore slid from the boulder, landed in the sea and began to swim with a perfect breaststroke, towards the dark fissure in the rock face, his lit wand held between his teeth.
Despite the sun's warming rays peeping over the horizon, the water was still icy, and Albus cursed briefly that he had neglected to cast a warming charm before entering the depths. The fissure soon opened into a dark tunnel that must surely have been filled with water at the high tide. The slimy walls were barely three feet apart and glimmered like wet tar in the passing light of the wand. A little way in, the passageway curved to the left extending far into the cliff ending in steps that led into a large cave. Allowing the light of his wand to dim in favour of casting other spells, Dumbledore dried and warmed himself as he turned slowly on the spot.
He frowned as he glanced round the antechamber, perhaps he had underestimated Voldemort after all. If he did not already know there was an opening here somewhere he would not think to look, but he could not remember where in the unrelenting rock face it was. Each section was indistinguishable from its peers. He approached the wall of the cave caressing it with his fingertips murmuring words in a strange tongue as he searched for a trace of hidden magic. Twice he slowly circumnavigated the cave occasionally pausing to run his fingers backwards and forwards over a particular spot, until finally he stopped, his hand pressed flat against the wall. He lent his head against the wall trying to glean information directly from the hard, cold, stone.
Stepping back from the cave wall he pointed his wand at the rock. For a moment, the arched outline appeared under his hand, blazing white as though there was a powerful light behind the crack before dimming and fading away. Dumbledore stood staring at the wall intently, as though something extremely interesting was written on it. Minutes ticked by as he pondered how the entrance had been blocked. What spells had Voldemort known? What books had he had access to?
"Surely not," Dumbledore muttered and called for a house elf. "I have need of your blood," he stated.
Big eyes widened impossibly large as the little creature quickly glanced around at the bare wall, staring at the correct spot although all traces of the archway had disappeared, "Master, headmaster Sir," the trembling creature said. "Elvses blood not be working for spells."
"Don't be ridiculous, the boy knew nothing of elves. The spell requires a blood sacrifice, now open your vein or I shall open it for you!"
Shaking like a leaf blown in the wind the house elf, cast a cutting spell on the tip of one finger, allowing a bead of blood to pool.
"Well that won't be enough," the Headmaster snapped sharply.
He grabbed a hold of the elf's wrist and with a spell sliced the palm of their hand, wiping the open wound against the rock face. The hand was released negligently, with no more care than he would take dropping his dirty laundry upon the floor. As soon as his wrist was freed the elf cleansed and healed the wound, looking ready to pop away.
"Stay!"
The rock face remained closed.
Dumbledore grunted but placed a small incision neatly across the pad of his thumb and allowed several droplets to fall onto the wall. The blazing outline of an arch appeared once more and this time it did not fade away, the blood-spattered rock within it simply vanished, leaving an opening into what seemed total darkness. Dumbledore looked consideringly at the elf for a moment.
"You will come with me in case I have need of you. You will not return to Hogwarts unless I say."
Light still emitting from his wand, he walked through the archway.
An eerie sight met his eyes, he was standing on the edge of a black lake, so vast that he could not make out the distant banks, in a cavern so high that the ceiling too was out of sight. A misty greenish light shone far away in what looked to be the middle of the lake; it was reflected in the completely still water below. The greenish glow and the wand-light were the only things that broke the otherwise velvety blackness.
Dumbledore set off around the edge of the lake, his footsteps making an echoing, slapping sound on the narrow rim of rock that surrounded the water. The elf was silent. On and on they walked, but the view did not vary; on one side of them, the rough cavern wall; on the other the boundless expanse of smooth, glassy blackness, in the very centre of which was that mysterious greenish glow.
The headmaster paused peering through the gloom at the green light indicating the Horcrux's location, but how to retrieve it? A simple summoning spell? No, nothing so ordinary, not for Lord Voldemort. Surely there was some monstrosity hidden in the water, waiting to emerge once the Horcrux was retrieved. He continued walking, musing on the possibilities when the swinging of his hand was interrupted in its path by an invisible object.
"Ahha!"
He ran his hand through the air again until he felt it once more and gripped it tightly. Dumbledore raised his wand with the other hand and tapped his clenched fist with it. Immediately a thick coppery green chain appeared out of thin air, extending from the depths of the water into his hand. Dumbledore tapped the chain, which began to slide through his fist like a snake, coiling itself on the ground with a clinking sound that echoed noisily off the rocky walls, pulling something from the depths of the black water. The prow of a tiny boat broke the surface, glowing as green as the chain, and floated, with barely a ripple towards the place on the bank where the headmaster and the elf stood.
With an amused chuckle Dumbledore climbed into the boat, Voldemort was so sure of himself, so sure that he was the only one who would be able to enter the cave, that he had created a means to access his treasure that anyone could find and use, by pure accident even. In fact, the Headmaster had done him a favour by sealing the entrance behind Regulus as that had added an extra layer of protection. The boat was small, such that with the coiled rope moved to the floor of it, the Elf had to balance precariously on the prow and Dumbledore sat filling the tiny bench seat with his knees in his armpits. With a lurch the boat started moving towards the centre of the lake.
There was no sound other than the silken rustle of the boat's prow cleaving the water; it moved without assistance from the occupants. It was not long until the walls of the cavern disappeared from sight; they might have been floating in the sea except for the lack of waves. The boat was carving deep ripples upon the glassy surface, grooves in the dark mirror drawing Dumbledore's gaze into the depths, there he saw something marble-white, floating mere inches below the surface.
"Headmaster!" wailed the elf, voice echoing loudly over the silent water, scrambling to keep his feet out of the water.
"Silent, you fool."
"But I sees a hand! A hand in the water!"
"Indeed," the headmaster seemed more amused than anything else, "probably the rest of the body as well if you look more closely. And if you do not be quiet you will join them!"
With an 'eep' the elf fell silent, white knuckles gripping hard, legs tucked up as high as they could go.
At last, the greenish light seemed to be growing larger and within minutes, the boat came to a halt, bumping gently against an island of smooth rock in the centre of the lake.
"Do not touch the water," hissed Dumbledore as the elf stumbled disembarking. It would not do for the creatures contained within the water to be released too soon. The island was no larger than Dumbledore's office and the bearded man wondered what his foe had done to raise it. It was too smooth, too central, too obviously un-natural not to have been created by the man. There in the centre of the island was the source of light. It was not a lamp but some kind of basin, made of stone not unlike a Pensieve, sitting on top of a pedestal. The basin was full of a phosphorescent emerald liquid. An invisible barrier prevented physical investigation of the bowl, a sure sign that the horcrux was contained within.
He raised his wand and made complicated movements over the surface of the potion, murmuring soundlessly. Nothing happened. The action was repeated, the murmuring no longer soundless, and brow furrowed in concentration. Dumbledore peered into the basin.
"But how to reach it," he muttered. "it cannot be penetrated by hand, vanished, parted, scooped up or siphoned away, nor can it be Transfigured, Charmed or otherwise made to change its nature."
With a frown, Dumbledore raised his wand again, twirled it once in mid-air and then caught the crystal goblet that he had conjured out of nowhere.
"Therefore, it must be drunk," he looked at Elf, and held out the goblet. It was taken in a shaky hand. "Drink it," he ordered. The goblet passed easily through the barrier into the liquid below.
"No Master! No more," begged the elf, after two glasses full. "I bees a bad elf. Bad bad elf."
"Drink!" the blue eyes were hard and cold.
Glass after glass was forced down the poor creature's throat, as it squirmed and begged and cried. At one point the little thing passed out and was revived with a rough 'rennervate'.
"Water, please water," the Elf begged.
The request was ignored as Dumbledore covetously reached into the now empty basin, the shield having disappeared. All around them the surface of the lake churned, like boiling water. White heads and hands were emerging for the dark water, men and women and children with sunken, sightless eyes were moving towards the rock: an army of the dead rising from the water.
"Inflamarae!" a small spurt of flame issued forth burning the first inferius. "Inflamarae!" The smell of burnt flesh filled the air as another body burned.
"Elf take me to Hogwarts!" ordered the headmaster.
"I can'ts. I bees a bad elf." cried the little creature, shaking its head.
"You will take me to Hogwarts now!" roared Dumbledore gripping tightly onto the creatures shoulder.
There was an earth-shattering crack, as the pair disappeared from the space just as a white, clammy hand pulled at his robes. A noise like the crash of thunder split the air as they reappeared in the Headmaster's office. With a soft 'pftt' the elf fell face first onto the floor. Dumbledore ignored the creature moving to his desk, to examine the horcrux.
It was a black locket, an 'S' engraved upon the front, slithering like a snake across its face. He frowned, Marvolo's locket had been gold in colour, and its 'S' was embedded with glittering green stones. Turning it over he ran his thumbnail under the clasp and flicked it open. With a slight click it sprang open to reveal a fragment of parchment.
Rage surged through his veins as he read the script.
To the Dark Lord,
I know I will be dead long before you read this, but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret, I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more.
R.A.B
With a surge of anger, the headmaster raised his wand and the still form of elf was incinerated with much more intensity than had been achieved in the cave, leaving a smoky outline of ashes on the floor.
"Dipsy."
A house elf popped into the room and froze.
"Clean up the mess."
With a small squeak, and a click of her fingers the ashes gathered themselves into a small jewelled box, and Dipsy disappeared from the room before he could give her any other orders.
"Crucio!" Dumbledore flicked the spell from his wand, to slow to catch the elf.
Growling his thoughts turned inward, he had sealed the cave to prevent Regulus's escape, so where was the Locket? The old elf would not have had the power to overcome the wards after drinking the potion, it had not been young like the one who had attended the headmaster. Except Regulus would not have made his elf drink the potion, would he? No he was too tender-hearted. But no elf would have left his master behind. So where was it? At the bottom of the lake? Or did Regulus escape? Could it be he who found the Gaunt's shack and the ring?
First, he needed to rest, then he would return to the cave, fully prepared to take on an army of Inferi. If the locket was not at the bottom of the lake, then he would have to consider that the boy had somehow survived. No, Regulus had never been that clever, his body would be found in the lake once the Inferi were cleansed perhaps he could arrange to have it sent to Sirius, a reminder of his generosity.
A knock sounded, and rapidly repeated. Blast it who needed him now!
-o0o-
Hermione had taken particular care this morning. She had locked her dorm-mates out of the bathroom for two hours so that she could be prepared, and she was happy with her efforts. There was no way that Ron would not fall in love with her now. Her hair had been tamed until it was sleek and smooth and twisted in an elegant knot at the back of her head. Her makeup was delicately applied, highlighting her eyes and lips while minimising her flaws, not that she had any. Firm but not tight jeans, and a fitted skivvy. While it was cloudy it should still warm enough to go without a jacket. If it got colder, she was sure that she could convince Cormac to put his arm around her, which would be sure to raise the hackles of the red-haired boy whose attention she was trying to catch. The piece de resistance was the parfum that she had created herself, inspired the twins now retracted products, Eau de armortentia. She was perfectly happy.
Finally, Hermione emerged from the bathroom, to find the dormitory empty, which was odd as the other girls usually slept in on the weekends and should have woken up about halfway through her preparations. Still, it did not cross her mind that everything was not going according to plan until she reached the Great Hall. There was Cormac waiting for her, with the stragglers but Ron was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Harry, or Ginny or that idiot Percival.
"Hi," Cormac greeted her beaming, "I was hoping to head down to Hogsmeade straight away. I made you a roll."
He passed her a bread roll dripping with grease and oozing egg and bacon.
"Thanks," she said insincerely, swiftly dropping it back onto the table and using a napkin to clean her hands. "Have you seen Ron?"
Cormac frowned, "I expect he's at Quidditch practice this morning. I believe they had the pitch booked …" He began complaining that he had not made the team and continued the entire way to Hogsmeade. "And I know it's just because I turned Katie Bell down when she wanted to go out with me last year!"
There was silence. Had he finally finished? Did he want her to say something? Cormac was looking at her expectantly.
"Oh, well, she shouldn't hold that against you. She should have chosen the best people for the team." Hermione rubbed her arms, the wind was picking up, clouds scuttling across the sky, and it was much cooler than it had been inside the protective walls of the castle.
"Exactly. And I was better than any of the other candidates for keeper. I was just having a bad day at trials, that's why I missed those shots, they all knew that. Probably because of all the running around they made us do."
Oh, dear Lord, was he going to continue talking about Quidditch all whole day? And damn it was cold. Suddenly Hermione was regretting both her choice in companion and clothing.
As if he had read her mind Cormac said, "Anyway, that's enough about me. What would you like to do?" he gave her a lazy smile and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
Hermione glanced up to see the village laid out before them, "Well," she said with a smile bending her arm to twist her fingers through his, "I haven't been to the Tomes and Scrolls in a while."
After the book shop, they went to Zonko's, where they caught a glimpse of Ron and Harry, but as soon as she had tucked herself back under Cormac's arm they disappeared. The pair moved on to Dervish and Bangs, Schivenshafts, then Spintwitches (where she was sure Ron would be but no, he was nowhere to be seen). Finally, they made their way to The Three Broomsticks, where they managed to find a cosy booth and ordered lunch.
It was not long before a raft of other students made their way through the doors including the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Enjoying the morning had been a pleasant surprise to Hermione, apart from the excessive conversation about Quidditch, Cormac had been attentive, and had bought her Toothflossing Stringmints from Honeydukes when she mentioned they were her favourites. All in all, sitting at the little table making polite conversation over a shared butterbeer while they waited for their fish and chips was … nice, in a way that she had not thought it could be when she had conceived the plan to make Ron jealous. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Katie Bell make her way to the restroom. Perhaps Cormac deserved a reward.
"I'll be right back," Hermione excused herself.
-o0o-
Harry had woken early. Storm clouds were rolling overhead and he hoped that they would clear before it was time to go to Hogsmeade. He still had half an hour before Quidditch practice so he opened Slytherins diary and translated another page while he waited for Ron and the others to wake. It was rather interesting from a historical perspective, tracking the changes (not as many as you would think) from the Founders forward and he was soon lost in a world without plumbing, or chalk boards, where parchment was only ever used for handwritten books.
"Come on Harry!"
Somehow Ron, had gotten up and ready without Harry noticing.
"Is Percival coming?"
Harry glanced to where the lump of Percival's body had rested only to find it missing.
"Ah?"
"Go ahead, I'll be down in a minute," the boy himself said as he emerged from the bathroom, towelling his hair dry.
"Alright." Harry grinned and took off after Ron.
An hour and a half later they were groaning as they staggered away from the Quidditch pitch. When Percival appeared with a vial or Pepper Up potion each and several rounds of buttered toast for them to share, they bowed before him in gratitude.
"I figured you would want to shower more than eat," he said with a grin at their antics. Harry waited until he had dispersed his gifts before throwing himself at his boyfriend and giving him a quick kiss, sharply raising two fingers towards Ron when he wolf-whistled.
With a wrinkled nose Percival looked down at Harry and ordered, "Shower now! That goes for the rest of you as well." He turned his frown on the snickering team.
"Yes dad!" Katie gave a quick saluted and began marching towards the castle.
It was just as well that Percival had thought to bring them some food, as by the time they made their way back to the front of the castle, breakfast was over and the Great Hall empty.
"Hey Harry," Colin Creevey ran up to them. "I'm supposed to give you this?" he passed over a scroll of parchment with Harry's name written on it in familiar thin, slanting writing,
"Thanks Colin."
"Have you seen Hermione? It's just I've got one for her as well."
"Sorry mate, we had practice this morning, I haven't seen anyone apart from these lugs!"
"Oi!" the group complained.
"Right then, I guess I'll keep looking," the mousy haired boy scurried off on his task.
"Who's it from then?" Ron asked.
"Dumbledore," Harry said quickly un-rolling it. "It's the next lesson. Monday evening." He folded it quickly and shoved it in his pocket.
Filch was standing at the oak front doors as usual, checking off the names of people who had permission to go into Hogsmeade. Growling and grumping at the students as he warned them against bring various items back into the castle.
The walk to Hogsmeade was not enjoyable. While the clouds had rolled away, they had left behind a sharp cold breeze. Harry wrapped his scarf over the lower half of his face; the exposed part soon felt both raw and numb. The road to the village was full of students bent double against the bitter wind. More than once, Harry wondered whether they might not have had a better time in the warm common room, sending Dobby to the kitchens for treats. He even made the suggestion but Ron, gestured with a thickly gloved hand towards Honeydukes pointing out that seeing as they had come all this way they might as well at least have a look around. With a stifled groan, Harry and Percival followed him into the crowded shop as the team broke up promising to catch up later at the Three Broomsticks.
"Thank the Gods," shivered Ron as they were enveloped by warm, toffee-scented air. "Let's stay here all day."
"Harry, m'boy!" said a booming voice from behind them.
"Oh no," muttered Harry. The three of them turned to see Professor Slughorn, who was wearing an enormous furry hat and overcoat with matching fur collar, clutching a large bag of crystallised pineapple and occupying at least a quarter of the shop.
"Harry that's three of my little suppers that you've missed now!" said Slughorn poking him genially in the chest. Percival's hand twitch in an aborted attempt at intercepting it. "It won't do m'boy, I'm determined to have you. The other's love them. So why don't you come along Harry?"
"Well, I've had detention, Professor," said Harry, who had indeed been arranging detention with Severus every time Slughorn had sent him a little violet-ribbon-adorned invitation, Percival and Ron often went with him. This strategy meant that Ron was not left out, though they felt a bit sorry for Zabini stuck there with Hermione and McLaggen.
"Now the next one is Monday night, which I have already spoken to Professor Snape -"
"I can't, Professor, I've got - er - an appointment with Professor Dumbledore that evening."
"Unlucky again," cried Slughorn dramatically. "Ah well … you can't evade me forever, Harry! I want to see if you have any more of your marvellous ideas!"
And with a regal wave, he waddled out of the shop, taking as little notice of Ron as though he had been a display of Cockroach Clusters.
"I can't believe you wriggled out of another one," Percival said shaking his head. "Don't think I didn't notice you didn't provide me with an excuse."
"I'm sure they can't be that bad," Ron said. "Oh look they've got Deluxe Sugar Quills they last for hours!"
"Come on let's go to Zonko's!" Harry said as they emerged, almost glad to leave the cramped confines of the sweets shop.
Later after collecting new quills and stopping by both Zonko's and Dervish and Bangs they met up with the rest of the team out the front of The Three Broomsticks.
"Who else wants a warm Butterbeer?" Ron asked looking round the group. "Come on you lot cough up, I'm not going to pay for all of you." Coins were passed over and Ron made his way to the bar while the others found a recently vacated table.
As they divested themselves of their jackets, scarves, and gloves, Demelza turned to Katie, "Do you think we should start a morning exercise program before classes? That way we can save time when we have the pitch booked."
"Percival and I already do a run around the lake each morning, if anyone wants to join us," Harry volunteered.
"Nah, you guys go before the sun is up most days, I am not getting up that early!" Demelza said with a grimace.
"No worse than practicing with Oliver, eh Harry," Katie smiled.
"We just like to have time to clean up before breakfast," Harry said not mentioning the other exercises given to him by Healer Addison.
"Harry you're excused as long as you go with Percival but everyone else can met up to do a circuit of the lake every second morning."
"What have I just been volunteered for?" Ron placed a serving tray laden with drinks into the centre of the oak table and threw a scattering of coins to those who needed change.
"Fitness training every second morning before breakfast," Jimmy Peaks said, a foam moustache now present on his upper lip.
"Ah, you've got a little something on your lip," Ginny grinned, "Right about … there!" She smushed her hand into Jimmy's face smearing the Butterbeer foam over his face.
"Ginny!"
"Well, I said I'd catch up with Leanne, so I'll see you all later," Katie said and moved off into the crowd before they could start a food fight. The team split up again then, leaving Harry, Ron and Percival at the table,
"I'm about ready to head back to the castle," Harry said after he had drained the last drops from his glass. "It's much too windy to be out today. If we go back now, I might get time to translate another page of the diary. It's really quite sad. There's another round of witch trials going on and let's just say that our history books are really missing a lot of stuff."
Once again, they drew their cloaks tightly around them, rearranged their scarves and pulled on their gloves; they noticed Katie and Leanne ahead of them as they emerged and walked back up the High Street. It seemed the storm had returned while they were safely cocooned inside the pub. The howling winds meant it was a little while before the three became aware that the voices of Katie and her friend, which were being carried back to them on the wind, had become shriller and louder. Harry squinted at their indistinct figures. The two girls were having an argument about something Katie was holding in her hand.
"It's nothing to do with you, Leanne!" Harry heard Katie say.
They rounded a corner in the lane sleet coming thick and fast, blurring Harry's glasses. Just as he raised a gloved hand to wipe them, Leanne made to grab hold of the package Katie was holding; Katie tugged it pack and the package fell to the ground.
At once, Katie rose into the air, her arms outstretched as if she were about to fly. Yet there was something wrong, something eerie, her hair was whipped around her face by the fierce wind, but her eyes were closed and her face quite empty of expression.
"She's been cursed," Percival said sharply and surged forwards.
Then six feet above the ground, Katie let out a terrible soul rending scream. Her eyes flew open but whatever she could see, or whatever she was feeling, was clearly causing her terrible anguish. She screamed and screamed; Leanne started to scream too, and seized Katie's ankles, trying to tug her back to the ground. Harry and Ron, rushed towards them to help but Percival reached the girl's first just in time to catch her writhing body as she fell. He lowered her to the ground, where she thrashed and screamed, apparently unable to recognise any of them.
"Harry, send a patronus to Madame Pomfrey. Ron try and find a teacher, whoever is closest will do. If you don't find anyone on the way back to the castle head for Madame Pomfrey!" Percival ordered, closing his eyes and trying to recall the detection spells he had known in his past life.
Ron sprinted towards the school; he had never seen anyone behave as Katie had just done and could not disagree with Percival's opinion; he hurtled round a bend in the lane and collided with what seemed to be an enormous bear on its hind legs.
"Hagrid," he panted, disentangling himself from the hedgerow into which he had fallen.
"Ron!" said Hagrid, who had sleet in trapped in his eyebrows and beard, and was wearing his great, shaggy beaver skin coat. "Jus' on me way to visit Rosmerta at the pub, where are you hurryin' off ter?"
"Katie's been hurt just back there. We reckon she's been cursed or something-"
"Wha'?" said Hagrid bending lower to hear what Ron was saying over the wind.
"Katie's been cursed!" bellowed Ron.
"Cursed! Come on yer better show me."
Together they ran back along the lane. It took them no time to find the little group of people around Katie, who was still writhing and screaming on the ground; Harry and Leanne were trying to quieten her.
"Get back!" shouted Hagrid. "Lemme see her!"
"Somethings happened to her!" sobbed Leanne. "I don't know what-"
"It's a Nightmare curse, Hagrid," Percival said grimly.
Hagrid stared at Katie for a second, then without a word, bent down, scooped her into his arms and ran off towards the castle with her. Within seconds, Katie's piercing screams had died away and the only sound was the roar of the wind.
Ron, moved over to Katie's friend, "Um ... Leanne?"
The girl nodded.
"We should start back towards the castle, I'm sure the teachers will want to know what happened."
"It was when the package tore," sobbed Leanne, pointing at the now sodden brown-paper package on the ground, which had split open to reveal a greenish glitter. Ron bent down, his had outstretched, but Percival seized his arm and pulled him back.
"Don't touch it!"
He crouched down. An ornate opal necklace was visible, poking out of the paper.
"I've seen that before," said Harry, peering over Percival's shoulder. "It was on display at Borgin and Burkes ages ago. The label said it was cursed. Katie must have touched it." He looked at Leanne, who had started to shake uncontrollably. "How did Katie get ahold of this?"
"That's why we were arguing. She came back from the bathroom at the Three Broomsticks holding it, said it was a surprise for someone at Hogwarts and she had to deliver it. She looked all funny when she said it … oh no, oh no, I bet she'd been Imperiused, and I didn't realise."
Leanne shook with renewed sobs. Percival removed his scarf and carefully covered the necklace in it and picked it up.
"Right well we had better get back to the school," Ron said.
"What if we summon our brooms. We can double up and be back at the school quicker?" Harry suggested. It was quickly done and before long they were dismounting at the entrance to the castle and McGonagall was hurrying down the steps through the swirling sleet to meet them.
"Hagrid says you four saw what happened to Katie Bell - upstairs to my office at once, please! What's that you're holding, Graves?"
"It's the thing she touched."
"You said something about a Nightmare curse," Ron said.
"Yeah, I discovered it when I was learning about my namesake. Apparently, it was popular in the nineteen-twenties. I couldn't sleep for a long while after a learnt about it until Phina taught me the detection spell."
"Good lord," said Professor McGonagall, looking alarmed as she took the necklace from Percival. "No, no Filch they're with me," she added hastily, as Filch came shuffling eagerly across the Entrance Hall. "Take this necklace to Professor Snape at once, but be sure not to touch it, keep it wrapped in the scarf. Inform him we believe it holds a Nightmare curse, and there is a student in the hospital wing who has been affected."
Harry and the others followed Professor McGonagall upstairs into her office. The sleet-spattered windows were rattling in their frames and the room was chilly despite the fire crackling in the grate. Professor McGonagall closed the door and swept round her desk to face the children.
"Well?" she said sharply. "What happened?"
Haltingly and with many pauses while she attempted to control her crying, Leanne told Professor McGonagall how Katie had gone to the bathroom at the Three Broomsticks and after an awfully long time had returned holding the unmarked package, how Katie had seemed a little odd and how they argued about the advisability of agreeing to deliver unknown objects, the argument culminating in the tussle over the parcel which tore open. At this point, Leanne was so overcome there was no getting another word out of her.
"All right," said Professor McGonagall, not unkindly, "go up to the hospital wing, please, Leanne and get Madame Pomfrey to give you something for the shock."
After Leanne had left the room, Professor McGonagall turned back to Harry, Percival, and Ron.
"What happened when Katie touched the necklace?"
"She rose up into the air," said Harry before the others could speak. "And then she began to scream and collapsed."
"Right," said the Professor seemingly at a loss. "What happened then?"
"Percival told me to send a Patronus to Madame Pomfrey and Ron to run and find a teacher. He cast some spells on Katie to see what was wrong. Professor, I don't know if it's important or not, but I know where that necklace comes from."
"You do, Potter?"
"Yes Ma'am. I had a floo accident in second year and ended up in Borgin and Burkes and that necklace was there. Someone came into the shop, and I hid. It was Draco Malfoy and his father, while Mr Malfoy was busy, Draco looked around the shop, he examined the necklace for a long time."
"That is a very serious accusation, Potter."
"I know it's circumstantial, but it might be worth looking into. Sirius saw him go into Borgin and Burkes alone this summer as well."
"I'll consider that, Potter. Right, I suggest you all head down to the kitchens for a nice cup of tea."
"But Professor, Katie!" they protested.
"Nightmare curses tend to linger, and some of them include physical ailments. I imagine it will be a little while before Madame Pomfrey deems her able to have visitors. If nothing else use the time to prepare for your next detention. You might as well bring Weasley, I can't imagine you've not been encouraging him to try it as well."
"Uh, Professor, what about Neville?"
"Mr Longbottom as well?" she looked at them enquiringly, they nodded. "All right, then he may attend as well. Now get on with you."
"Who do you suppose Katie was supposed to give the necklace to?" Harry asked as they made their way towards the common room.
"Impossible to tell," Ron replied sensibly. "Depends on who gave it to her really. Someone's ex-girl or boy friend, a Death Eater."
"And why use Katie? Was she a victim of chance or was she actually the target?"
"Dilligrout," Harry said as they reached the Fat Lady.
The portrait swung open to admit them to the common room. It was quite full and smelled of damp clothing; many people seemed to have returned from Hogsmeade early because of the bad weather. There was no buzz of fear or speculation, however: clearly the news of Katie's fate had not yet spread.
"It wasn't a very slick attack, really, when you stop and think about it," said Ron, negotiating in gestures with a first year, swapping tutoring for one of the good armchairs by the fire, so that he could sit down. "The curse didn't even make it into the castle. Not what you'd call fool proof."
"Either that or the victim was lucky," Percival said darkly.