Chapter 21
Chapter Summary
A/N:
-o0o-
"Dumbledore!" A voice came hissing through the floor. "Dumbledore?"
"Yes, Mafalda my dear?" Albus Dumbledore said kindly, looking down on the face in his fireplace.
"They know!" she hissed looking around wildly.
"Who knows what, dear girl?" he stilled.
"They know that letters have been generated about the magic done at that little muggleborn's house. The one you asked me to keep an eye out for. I've been filing her letters for years without sending them, just as you asked. And it's a ridiculous amount of magic that girl does over the summers I can tell you. But she is up to four obliviates, not including the one you advised me of, that doesn't just breach the restriction of underage sorcery laws you know!" She seemed quite panicked.
"And what do you want me to do about it?" Why oh why could his minions not function by themselves? Surely there was some lie the dull woman could come up with.
"You said that you had applied for an exemption for her, I'll need a copy of that to show them when they ask," Mafalda tried to say firmly, but only succeeded in coming off as worried.
"Ah that is going to be a problem," Dumbledore mused. "I'm not sure where it has gotten to." Not that he had ever applied for one of course.
"Then you'll have to apply for a new one now!" Mafalda squeaked.
"I'll get right onto that," Dumbledore nodded. "Who is looking into it?"
"The auditors. I don't know who they are. They're checking through the entire department. Some complaint from the ICW about our system confusing house-elf magic for human magic a couple of years ago, and also for detecting magic in front of a muggle that was already in the know. Apparently, they've been looking at it for a while, but it's only just now reached the point of going through the department's files."
"Ah," Dumbledore said vaguely. He had thought he had succeeded in squashing that investigation, but he had been a bit distracted recently trying to keep all his pawns under-control and obviously someone, maybe Amelia Bones or that horrible American women, must have been pushing it through in the background. "Who do I speak to about getting the exemption?"
"You'll need to talk to Magda Vane …"
"Does she have a child named Romilda?" Dumbledore enquired.
"I believe so, at least she has a child who's about fifteen, she's very proud …"
"Ah," the headmaster grimaced, he doubted the woman would be willing to help him at the moment as he had not succeeded in preventing the child from being expelled. "Is there anyone else?"
"No, we're a rather small department here."
"Couldn't you do it my dear? I just don't see how I can get away during term," he asked sounding harried.
"I … no, I don't think so, they're watching you see. They know I do the filing; they'll be asking …"
"Surely, you'll be able to make something up. It was after all very important that Hermione was allowed to practice, and there was no harm done as her parent's obviously knew about magic."
"But the obliviates, Professor!"
"Unfortunately necessary, they were going to stop her returning to Hogwarts. It's standard procedure for recalcitrant parents," he explained. "She just did not have time to contact the obliviators."
"We … we …can't have them stopping her from returning," Mafalda said a little shakily, with a frown. "I suppose I can … just wait a moment."
Her head disappeared only for a form to flutter through the fireplace and drift down to land on the hearth.
"There fill that in and send it to the department. That's the best I can do I'm afraid," she did sound regretful.
"Ah well, I am sure you tried your best," Dumbledore said sagely, though silently fuming.
Once she was gone, he collected the piece of parchment and filled it in. Adding some compulsions before he gave it to Fawkes to deliver.
Fawkes shook his head and let out a mournful cry as he disappeared with a flash.
-o0o-
Having missed the previous Apparition lesson, Ron and Harry were feeling a bit nervous as they stood amongst the gathered students.
"I've only got another few weeks, Harry. What am I going to do? I haven't even managed to go anywhere yet."
"Yeah, well it was a neat trick, Splinching yourself, while turning on the spot, Twycross seemed almost impressed," Neville laughed from Ron's other side.
"Shut up you! You haven't even …" Ron began.
"Yes well, Longbottom, has always been the …bottom … of the barrel as far as magic's concerned," Draco Malfoy jeered from behind them.
"Ignore him, Nev," Harry muttered. "He's not worth it."
"Face your hoops. Fix your attention on your destination. Focus with determination, then turn and move with Deliberation!" Wilkie Twycross said energetically, in exactly the same tone he had used across all the lessons they had attended. It caused the majority of the students to groan and roll their eyes.
Frowning in concentration, Harry, focussed his eyes on the section of floor, contained within his designated hoop, as he turned, he sought that spinning, compressive feeling. There was an almighty crack and the next moment his heel caught on the edge of his hoop, he lost his balance and tumbled to the floor.
"Are we all complete Mr Potter?" Twycross asked.
Quickly standing, and running his hands over his body, Harry nodded, "Seems so."
"Ah look, Mr Potter has done it, well done, well done. Now back to your hoops."
Everyone moved with more energy after that.
"How did you do it?" Neville asked.
"Destination …" Twycross said from the front of the room.
"You know the feeling of side-along?" Harry asked.
"Determination…"
Neville nodded, and Ron narrowed his eyes.
"Well, I thought about that, just as I turned and imagined myself landing in the hoop."
"Right."
"And Deliberation."
With a slightly smaller sonic boom, Harry, once again appeared within his hoop, tripped on his foot and fell to the floor.
"Try bending your knees slightly to help you stick the landing Mr Potter," Twycross suggested. "Oh and someone help Mr Longbottom he seems to have left his hand behind."
McGonagall rushed over and quickly set Neville to rights.
"You're getting close, Mr Longbottom. Chin up," she encouraged him.
Forty minutes later and both Ron and Neville had joined Harry in successful Apparition.
"A few more practices and I'll be right for my test," Ron sighed happily.
"How did you do it?" Hermione who had approached them from behind asked as they exited the hall.
"I beg your pardon, Granger?" Neville said.
" . .It?" she enunciated slowly.
"Well you see we, fixed our minds on our Destination," Ron said flatly.
"Then focussed with Determination," added Neville.
"And finally we moved with Deliberation," finished Harry.
"No!" Hermione said in protest. "You must have cheated. There is no way that you three imbeciles could have possibly done it. I'm …I… haven't even …"
"I wouldn't worry about not Splinching," Ron shrugged, "Fred and George never Splinched even once. You know they just popped into their hoops after a lesson or two."
"What! No," Hermione whined.
"I wouldn't stress, Granger," Neville said, "I'm sure you'll get there eventually."
The three boys moved away to find Percival, who was sitting on the bottom step of one of the staircases waiting for them, so they could head to the Room of Requirement to study. When they got there, they found it barred to them and moved to the library instead. Passing a couple of prefects having a whispered conversation as they moved to a group of desks out of the line of sight of the door.
-o0o-
"Hey Carmilla," Lucy Dorcet gained the attention of her best friend.
"Mmm," Carmilla looked up from the book she was reading.
"Have you finished our latest Charms assignment? I'm short four inches."
"The one on the complications of applying charms on transfigured material?"
"No that was the one before, the last one was on counter charms to mild to moderate hexes that effect the structural integrity of animate objects."
"I'm sure it wasn't," Carmilla frowned. "I don't recall that one."
"Yeah, it was, here look," Lucy pulled out a folio, and showed her friend where she had jotted down the instructions for their latest assignment at the end of class.
With a frown, Carmilla flicked through the notes that were neatly tucked into the pocket at the front of her charm's notebook. There on top was a half-page, outline for the assignment.
"I've barely started it! How could I have forgotten?" Carmilla fretted, flipping the page over to find several references.
"Do you have anything else on it?"
Flicking through the pieces of parchment and notes on paper, Carmilla found several sections of notes, with more references written in the margins.
"I can't remember doing this at all," she said in confusion.
"I remember you saying you were going to look it up, that's why I thought you might be done."
"But how can I have forgotten the whole thing?" Carmilla was beginning to panic. "What else have I forgotten?"
"Come on, I'll take you to Madame Pomfrey," Lucy, packed up their things, and chivvied a panicking Carmilla from the room. "We take all the same subjects, so at least from that point of view it will be ok. After you've seen Pomfrey I'll go through them with you, so you don't miss anything."
Releasing the girl's chin with a sigh, Madame Pomfrey frowned. "You've been obliviated I'm afraid. Though I can not tell you what exactly they removed, I can reassure you that your body at least physically shows no signs of an injury occurring so we can assume that it was only your mind that was affected. I assume you do not have any skill in Occlumency?"
Carmilla shook her head.
"In that case there is unfortunately very little I can do about this travesty, however I will note it in your chart, advise Filius and write a letter to your parents. I advise you to do the same. Have you any idea whom you were with at the time?"
Carmilla shook her head.
"Perhaps it is something you could add to your studies?" she suggested. "It is a good defence against such occurances and it may help you to recover those memories once you've had enough practice."
It was not until a week later that a Hufflepuff that they shared charms with mentioned seeing Carmilla in the library and that Hermione Granger had been at a table nearby and they made the connection. Carmilla immediately approached Professor Flitwick with the information and backed up by Madam Pomfreyt's reports and scans he took the issue to the Headmaster.
"The evidence is circumstantial at best," Dumbledore sighed as if he were truly aggrieved. "There is not really much we can do. Are you sure the child has been even been obliviated? You know how your Raven's get, all stressed out on exams, I'm sure the poor thing was just overwhelmed and lost track. See there's nothinng to worry about." With that he brushed the accusations aside, and dismissed the part-goblin.
Filius Flitwick made his way back to his rooms, while he was disappointed he was wholly unsurprised by the headmaster's response. Taking up parchment and quill he began to write a letter to Madame Marchbanks as head of the panel responsible for Hermione Granger's punishment, hoping there was some way that she could help keep the girl in check. And if not at least the panel would know what the girl had been up to.
-o0o-
It was an odd sort of night; Harry had been feeling melancholy and unsettled all day. His mind was unfocused, and he could not concentrate on his studies. Making his excuses he made his way back to the dorm. Everything had been going so well. His Animagus transformation, was nearly perfected and he could transform without his wand though it still took several seconds, which would only improve with time and practice. The extension lessons were continuing under the guise of detentions. EVERYTHING was going well.
Harry could not help the sigh that escaped his lips, a sign of the building tension as he waited for something to go wrong. He lay down on his bed, hoping that sleep would come, but only succeeded in tossing and turning. After quarter of an hour, he reached into his trunk and pulled out the Potter Grimoire, as he did so, the most recent of his grandfather's portraits spoke.
"Have you forgotten about me young man?" he chided.
"Sorry, sir," Harry grimaced, picking up the frame.
"None of that Sir nonsense. I always thought that any child of Jamie's would call me Grandpa or Poppy or something. I suppose you already have one of those from your mother's side, but surely there is something else you can call me."
"I … I never did …" Harry mumbled.
"Chin up, don't mumble," Fleamont said firmly. "What about Lily's parents?"
"I don't know when they passed away, but Aunt Petunia never mentioned them."
"Oh, how odd. Still, I suppose she was jealous of the attention they gave Lily when she was home from holidays. I can't remember their names, but they were a lovely couple. We met them at the engagement party. He was a right laugh I remember. Now why the sigh?"
"Everything has been going really well …"
"Surely that is reason to celebrate not this …whatever this is."
"Nothing's every really gone well for me before, especially here at Hogwarts," Harry said. "I just feel like something is about to go wrong."
"Hmm," Fleamont frowned and shook his head. "It is a sad day when a Potter child carries so many worries. I do remember feeling the same at times during the wars. Well, my Jamie would be telling you to play a prank as a distraction, but for myself I liked to prepare for every scenario I could think of," he chuckled at Harry's appalled look. "Let's work through it together. Give me an example of something you think might go wrong?"
"Dumbledore might do something to Severus."
"That Snape boy?" Fleamont asked, eyebrows raised.
Harry snorted in amusement at Severus being called a boy but nodded all the same.
"Well, there must be a tale there, if he has made peace with the Potters. We can discuss that another time. So, what is the worst that could happen?"
"I think, I think Dumbledore might kill him or try to hurt him or something, possibly have him imprisoned in Azkaban," Harry said starting to worry.
"And what can you do to prevent it?"
"Nothing," whispered Harry.
"What can the adults or Severus himself do?"
"They already arranged for him to have a portkey to America, so he can get away and they gave him a trail at the ICW and a position there so that he's safe from Azkaban, I guess. He's really good at Occlumency so he's protected that way too."
"Alright, I remember him managing to give as good as he got when my boys were up to no good, so I am sure he is no slouch with a wand either. All in all, it sounds like he's pretty safe, so you can put that worry aside. Now what else is bothering you?"
"Draco Malfoy is up to something."
"Hmm, Malfoy's have been up to something since they arrived in the country. What are the adults doing about that?"
"Severus is keeping an eye on him, he's his Head of House."
"It sounds like Severus has it under control."
"Yeah, but what if …"
"Do you trust Severus?"
The question pulled Harry up short. Did he trust Severus? He had never really trusted an adult before. He had been starting to trust Sirius before the mess with the Potter Grimoire had upset things. It did not matter that Sirius had good intentions; Harry could now acknowledge that it had damaged the trust that they had built. But Severus? He had always been … steady, reliable, unchanging. Sure, they understood each other better now, but he was still the same snarky, demanding man he had been before.
"Y … yes, yes," Harry restated, more firmly. "Yeah I trust him."
"Then trust that he can both look after himself and that he will keep an eye on Draco Malfoy."
"I guess."
"What else?"
"Hermione."
"Hermione?"
"Yeah, she used to be our friend but … well, we used to think she was our friend, but now we've learnt that she never really was. She got hold of books from the Potter Manor library, with Dumbledore's help and never told me even though she knew I didn't know anything about my family and then ... there's just sooo much."
"Yes, well, I am glad that you removed that man from our wards," Fleamont huffed. " For some reason Jamie thought he hung the stars in the sky, but Mia never liked him, and I must admit there was always something about him that made my skin crawl. It wasn't until it was too late that we realised just how far he would go. We tried to get word out to Jamie but I do not know if the message ever made it through."
"What did he do?"
"He came to the Manor after we had been confined with the pox," Fleamont said. "It was while Mia was still alive, and he asked to borrow the family Cloak, he seemed inordinately interested in it."
"What?!"
"I of course said no. The next thing I know the Cloak is gone, and Mia and I died in quick succession, despite both having been recovering before that man arrived. I regret that we had allowed him access to the Manor, but he had said that Jamie asked him to come by seeing as your family had gone into hiding. After he had left, we knew something was wrong. My wonderful angel Mia used a spell to gift me the use of her magic the afternoon that she completed my painting, so that I could put our affairs in order, lockdown the Manor and transfer my all my knowledge to my portrait. Unfortunately, we did not have enough time or magic left to complete a portrait each, she would have loved you. I cannot say for sure what happened the day..."
"You were Obliviated."
"Indubitably. But what else he did while he had access to the Manor I don't know."
"He told me that my father left the Cloak in his care for safe keeping. But we already found out that was a lie. The Goblins tested the cloak he gave me, and it wasn't ours, it was a normal invisibility cloak."
"I wish it were not so, to lose a family heirloom…"
"I've got it back Grandpa, I set a house elf to finding all our things. The Grimoire was the last." He held up the book.
"Well, done. Now let us talk about something else. Tell me how you are getting on at school. I was rather good at potions in my day."
An hour later, Percival snuck into the dorm. He quietly peaked through the curtains that Harry had pulled around his bed and smiled at what he saw. Harry was curled up next to the portrait of his grandfather, reading excerpts from the Slytherin diary, first in Parseltongue then in English. The elderly gentleman had obviously been getting quite excited.
"You need to write this down Harry, don't you see the difference it could make!"
Dutifully Harry jotted down whatever the old man had said. "I really need to take you down to see Severus," the young man said in some amusement. "I could leave you there for a while, so you could chat."
"But then who would translate the diary for us?" Fleamont pouted.
-o0o-
Small beads of sweat formed on Hermione's brow as her request was denied again. She had waited around a corner to catch her prey on the way to meals. As he approached her hiding spot she stepped out from the adjacent corridor and with a pleasant smile began a conversation, hoping to sweet talk him into giving her the memory. Over the past weeks she had asked, begged, cajoled, and attempted to bribe the memory from Horace Slughorn to no avail.
After the latest failed attempt, she stood empty handed outside the door to the headmaster's office, knowing she had let her mentor down again. Silently raging that she still needed the man, that she had not quite reached a point where she could step out on her own. That day would come, and it would come soon, maybe even before Voldemort had been dealt with. Slowly she had been building connections. Rita Skeeter had agreed to print an interview about her, she knew public opinion would be important when it came to stepping out from under Albus' shadow.
Although she owed the man a lot, recently it seemed as though he was not holding up his side of the bargain. He had promised her knowledge, power and influence and she found herself … disappointed, stifled. Her access to even the limited Hogwarts library restricted. Her movements curtailed. The only way he had been helping at all was in the few private lessons that they managed to have. Strangely it seemed that every time she entered the headmaster's office, one of the teachers appeared with a request that required Albus to help them immediately.
Hopefully tonight would be different. Looking at the Gargoyle she remembered the last time that she had let the headmaster down and breathed through the bitter acidic swirl in her stomach that threatened to make an emergence.
"Toffee Eclairs," she told the gargoyle moving up the steps as it moved aside, knocking on the door just as the cloak within chimed seven.
"Enter," called Dumbledore, but as Hermione put out a hand to push the door, it wrenched open from the inside. There stood Professor Trelawney.
"Aha!" she cried, pointing dramatically at Hermione as she blinked myopically through her owl-like spectacles. "A student! So, this is the reason I am to be thrown unceremoniously from your office, Dumbledore!"
"My dear Sybill," Dumbledore replied in a slightly exasperated voice, "there is no question of throwing you unceremoniously from anywhere, Hermione does have an appointment and I really don't think there is any more to be said –"
"Very well," said Professor Trelawney, in a deeply wounded voice. "If you will not listen to me, perhaps you will listen to the star-gazers who reside in the forest. Even with their limited vision they would tell you that Mars is turning! The portents are changing. Beware! If you will not listen to me perhaps, I will find a school where my talents are better appreciated …"
She pushed past Hermione and disappeared down the spiral staircase; they heard her stumble halfway down.
"Please close the door and sit down, Hermione," Dumbledore said, his voice tight and low.
Hermione obeyed taking her usual seat slightly, noticing as she did so that the Penseive was already in place between them on Dumbledore's desk. Two more tiny bottles full of swirling memory lay beside it.
"Is Harry not joining us tonight?" she asked.
"I have requested he join us shortly but first we have important matters to discuss. Firstly have you managed the task I set you at the end of our previous lesson?"
"No," she answered. "But I did try, perhaps Harry …"
"I will ask Harry when he arrives, however I think we are both aware that he will not have placed anywhere near the level of importance on the task that is required." He peered over his spectacles. "I was relying on you Hermione. Do you feel that you have exerted your best efforts in this matter? That you exercised all of your considerable ingenuity? That you left no depth of cunning unplumbed in your request to retrieve the memory?"
"Of course, I did!" Hermione protested.
"Really," he leaned back crossing his arms, eyes narrowed. "Can you think of no other avenue you might have tried, apart from the incessant nagging you have employed? No skill that you possess that might have ensnared the memory for us?" He drummed his fingers together.
"No Sir," Hermione said hesitantly. Though she supposed that was not the truth, she could have tried confounding or potioning the man. While her attempts at brewing Veritaserum, when she could disillusion herself and sneak out of the common room, had been unsatisfactory, she was sure she could have brewed a simpler truth serum. Lacing a bottle of wine or ale with it would surely have worked, the man was not known for his restrain when it came to victuals.
"I thought I had made it clear to you how important that memory is. Indeed, I did my best to impress upon you both that it is the most crucial memory of all and that we will be wasting our time without it."
A hot prickly feeling of shame spread from the top of Hermione's head all the way down her body. Dumbledore had not raised his voice, he did not even sound angry, she would have almost preferred him to yell; she knew this cold disappointment was worse than anything.
"Hmm." He kept his predator like gaze upon her as he reached for his wand.
-o0o
Trelawney stumbled past Harry, tripping over one of her trailing shawls.
She stopped and turned to stare at him. Harry held her misty-eyed gaze, determinedly not looking in the direction he knew Percival was hiding under the invisibility cloak.
"You … it's you …" she paused and blinked slowly, raising a hand to wave it in front of the boy's face. "No, not you, someone near you. The bringer of change, it's all changed," she sobbed. "Nothing is as it was before."
"Are you alright Professor?" Harry asked with some concern.
For the first time Sybill Trelawny appeared to actual see Harry, her eyes seemed to have unfogged and cleared. "Argh! My poor child." She fell to her knees in front of him grabbing a hold of his forearms. "Caught in the nexus, a swirling future that hangs in the balance …"
"Ah, um, is there a Hogwarts elf nearby?" Harry asked, awkwardly patting the Divination professor on the shoulder, his head turned to avoid her sherry-scented breath.
A faint pop had Harry twisting to look at a young elf dressed in a pillowcase emblazoned with the Hogwarts coat of arms.
"Can you take the professor and give her a cup of tea?" he asked. "I'm on the way to see the Headmaster and I can't wait."
The little elf nodded and took hold of Trelawny's hands, coaxing her to her feet and led her in the direction of the kitchens. A warm hand gripped his shoulder and squeezed, letting him know Percival was still nearby, despite the silence.
Finally, after the odd pair of elf and professor had disappeared, Harry took a deep breath and continued to the headmaster's office.
"Enter," Dumbledore's voice called as Harry lifted his hand to knock on the door. Tension was immediately palpable in the air as Harry moved into the room, he stopped clear of the doorway to allow Percival to enter behind him, before he quietly shut the door. Hermione already ensconced in one of the chairs facing the desk, her face pale, and the hand she lifted to tuck a loose curl behind her ear, shook. "Take a seat, my boy," Dumbledore smiled benignly.
"Headmaster, Granger," Harry greeted them each in turn, settling into his chair.
"Now Harry," Albus Dumbledore leaned to rest his chin on the tips of his fingers, "Have you, unlike Hermione, been successful in obtaining the memory from Horace?"
With a frown, Harry shook his head. "I'm afraid not headmaster, I did try the Gryffindor approach of asking him for it, which as expected did not work, and then with the incident with Ron, and my Quidditch injuries, I'm afraid it quite slipped my mind. I promise that I will try harder," he said pseudo contritely, sounding very solemn.
Silence settled over the group like a too heavy blanket, uncomfortable in its weightiness but Harry refused to feel guilty. The dead quietness stretched on and on punctuated by the little grunting snores from the portraits. Finally, Hermione broke …
"Professor Dumbledore, I'm really sorry. I should have done more … we," she threw a sideways glare at Harry, "should have realised you wouldn't have asked us to do it if it wasn't really important."
"Thank you for saying that Hermione," acknowledged Dumbledore quietly. "May I hope, then, that you will give this matter higher priority from now on? There will be little point our meeting after tonight unless we have that memory."
"I'll do it sir, I'll get it from him," Hermione stated earnestly. Harry nearly snorted but refused to comment.
Dumbledore clearly took his silence to be agreement, as he nodded in satisfaction, "Then we shall say no more about it just now. Let us continue our story where we left off. You remember where that was?"
"Yes, sir," Harry said quickly, eager to get the evening over with. "Apparently Riddle killed his father and grandparents and set up his uncle to take the fall."
"Then he returned to Hogwarts and asked Professor Slughorn an important question about Horcruxes," he gave them both a look of disappointment. "Now, you will remember, I hope, that I told you at the very outset of these meetings of ours that we would be entering the realms of guesswork and speculation?"
"Yes, sir."
"Thus far, I have shown you reasonably firm sources of fact for my deduction as to what Voldemort did until the age of seventeen?"
Hermione nodded. Harry kept his face neutral hiding any clue of his doubts.
"But now, now things become murkier and stranger. If it was difficult to find evidence about the boy Riddle, it has been almost impossible to find anyone prepared to reminisce about the man Voldemort. In fact, I doubt whether there is a soul alive, apart from himself, who could give us a full account of his life since he left Hogwarts. However, I have two last memories that I would like to share with you."
Dumbledore indicated the two little crystal bottles.
"I shall be glad to have your opinions as to whether the conclusions I have drawn from them seem likely."
Somehow Harry doubted it was his opinion that the headmaster was seeking, but by the way she shifted in apparent guilt, Hermione had obviously taken the words as a rebuke. Dumbledore lifted the first bottle and somewhat theatrically made a show of inspecting, twisting it so that the sparkling contents swirled.
"I hope you are not tired of diving into other people's memories for they are curious recollections, these two," he said. "This first came from a very old house-elf by the name of Hokey. Before we see what Hokey witnessed, I must quickly recount how Lord Voldemort left Hogwarts. He reached the seventh year of his schooling with, as you might have expected, top grades in every examination he had taken …"
It suddenly struck Harry that the true parallel for Tom Riddle was not himself but Hermione. Up until the arrival of Percival, she would have been expecting to finish top of the class. Just like Riddle she thought she was special, one of the elite few and had dabbled in the Dark Arts. No friends only followers.
"… All around him, his classmates were deciding which jobs they were to pursue once they had left Hogwarts. Nearly everybody expected spectacular things from Tom Riddle, prefect, Head Boy, winner of the Special Award for Services to the School. I know several teachers, Professor Slughorn amongst them, suggested that he join the Ministry of Magic, offered to set up appointments, put him in touch with useful contacts. He refused all offers. The next thing the staff knew, Voldemort was working at Borgin and Burkes."
"Borgin and Burkes?" Hermione repeated.
It was strange Harry considered that a student with seemingly infinite potential and ego ended up working in a shop. He could not imagine Hermione doing so and Harry wondered if the staff had noticed any personality changes at the same time. The light hand that pressed into his shoulder drew his attention back to Dumbledore.
"At Borgin and Burkes," Dumbledore calmly agreed. "I think you will see what attraction the place held for him when we have entered Hokey's memory. But this was not Voldemort's first choice of job. Hardly anyone knew at the time – I was one of the few in whom the then Headmaster confided – but Voldemort first approached Professor Dippet and asked whether he could remain at Hogwarts as a teacher."
The snort that Harry stifled at the thought of Professor Voldemort, was fortunately drowned out as Hermione asked, "He wanted to stay here? Why?"
While Hermione seemed incredulous, Harry thought he could understand. For one whom had come from the unloving, cold and mundane orphanage, Hogwarts was home. A place filled with amazing miracles, the warmth of friendship, and equality. And again he could see how Dumbledore was painting a picture of the similarities between them.
"I believe he had several reasons, though he confided none of them to Professor Dippet," said Dumbledore.
Harry chanced a glance up at the portrait that was hung behind the headmaster's desk. The bearded gentleman, was leaning slightly to one side, head tipped over, eyes shut, and face relaxed in sleep.
"Firstly, and very importantly, Voldemort was, I believe, more attached to this school than he has ever been to a person. Hogwarts was where he was happiest." The headmaster paused and glanced significantly at Harry, causing Hermione to look as well. Harry merely met her gaze and shrugged as if he did not understand the meaning behind Dumbledore's look.
"Secondly, the castle is a stronghold of ancient magic. Undoubtedly Voldemort had penetrated many more of its secrets than most of the students who pass through its halls, but he may have felt that there were still mysteries to unravel, stores of magic to tap. And thirdly, as a teacher, he would have had great power and influence over young witches and wizards. Perhaps he had gained the idea from Professor Slughorn, the teacher with whom he was on the best terms and had demonstrated how influential a role a teacher can play. I do not imagine for an instant that Voldemort envisaged spending the rest of his life at Hogwarts, but I do think he saw it as a useful recruiting ground and a place where he might begin to build himself an army."
If the story was true Harry wondered if Riddle might have thought that he would have some hope of providing an alternate to Dumbledore's propaganda, if he were also at Hogwarts. Not that the man would ever have allowed the competition.
"Of course, he did not get the job. Professor Dippet told him that he was too young at eighteen, but invited him to reapply in a few years, if he still wished to teach."
"How did you feel about that, sir?" Hermione asked.
"Deeply uneasy," Dumbledore said lowering his voice. "I had advised Armando against the appointment – I did not give the reasons I have given you – for Professor Dippet was very fond of Voldemort and convinced of his honesty – but I did not want Lord Voldemort back at this school and especially not in a position of power."
Dumbledore let something slip in that statement. He very definitely had protested Riddle's appointment, but how had he known about it? Had he not just said that Dippet had confided in him that Riddle had approached him and been rejected. So how had Dumbledore advised him before the man had even asked?
"What subject did he want to teach?" Harry asked somehow knowing the answer before Dumbledore gave it.
"Defence Against the Dark Arts. It was being taught at the time by an old Professor by the name of Galatea Merrythought, who had been at Hogwarts for nearly fifty years. So Voldemort went off to Borgin and Burkes, and all the staff who had admired him said what a waste it was, a brilliant young wizard like that working in a shop. However, Voldemort was no mere assistant. Polite and handsome and clever, he was soon given particular jobs of the type that only exist in a place like Borgin and Burkes, which specialises in objects with unusual and powerful properties. Voldemort was sent to persuade people to part with their treasures for sale by the partners, and he was, by all accounts unusually gifted at doing this."
"I'll bet he was," Hermione huffed.
"Quite," said Dumbledore with a faint smile. "And now it is time to hear from Hokey the house-elf, who worked for a very old, very rich witch by the name of Hepzibah Smith."
Dumbledore tapped the bottle he had been holding with his wand, the cork flew out and he tipped the swirling memory into the Penseive, saying as he did so, "After you, Harry."
Harry got to his feet, trying not to show his reticence, and bent once more over the rippling silver contents of the stone basin. They watched the awkward flirting and covetous looks of Tom Riddle as he handled the Hufflepuff and Slytherin heirlooms and Harry made a note to tell Sirius that the Cup had assuredly been turned into a Horcrux. Then Dumbledore grasped Harry's elbow once more and they rose back through oblivion into Dumbledore's office, where the reassuring pressure of Percival's hand rested upon his hip, holding him steady as he felt the slight tingle of a dispelling charm washing over him.
"Hepzibah died two days after that little scene," said Dumbledore resuming his seat and indicating for the pair of students to do the same. "Hokey the house-elf was convicted by the Ministry of poisoning her mistress's evening cocoa by accident."
"No way!" Hermione protested angrily, and for once Harry could not help but agree. House-elves were loyal to a fault, even if their families did not deserve it. There was no conceivable way the little elf had harmed her mistress.
"Hokey confessed," Harry surmised grimly. It was all evidence that he assumed Dumbledore was giving them to demonstrate the depravity of Riddle, however it seemed too obvious. The similarities with the death of Riddle's grandparents and father were too great, surely someone would have noticed. Though it would perhaps have been easy to hide, after all who would have been looking into the deaths of some muggles.
"She remembered putting something into her mistress's cocoa that turned out not to be sugar, but a lethal and little known poison," said Dumbledore. "It was concluded that she had not meant to do it, but being old and confused –"
"Voldemort modified her memory, just like he did with Morfin," Hermione stated.
"Yes, that is my conclusion too," Dumbledore agreed. "And just as with Morfin, the Ministry was predisposed to suspect Hokey –"
"Because she was a house-elf," finished Harry.
"Precisely." Something dark glimmered in the depth of the headmaster's eyes. He continued almost dismissively, "She was old, she admitted to having tampered with the drink and nobody at the Ministry bothered to enquire further. As in the case of Morfin, by the time I traced her and managed to extract this memory, her life was almost over – but her memory, of course, proves nothing except that Voldemort knew of the existence of the cup and the locket. By the time Hokey was convicted…"
"So hang on, they put her on trial, and even though she was old and clearly had not done it deliberately and was not in her right mind, and they still sent her to Azkaban!"
"Oh, yes," Dumbledore said with a smile.
Harry wondered just how much Dumbledore had had to do with it. Despite his assertation to the contrary had he been at the Wizengamot session? How much of his apparent tolerance of creatures and other beings was an act?
And by the time it was all settled Hepzibah's family had realised that two of her greatest treasures were missing. It took them a while to be sure of this, for she had a great many hiding places, having guarded her collection most jealously …"
Once again, Harry wondered, how Dumbledore knew. Certainly, the woman would have to have been significantly older than Albus, perhaps Tom Riddle was not the first young man to try and sweet talk Hepzibah Smith, out of her treasures.
"… But before they were sure beyond doubt that the cup and locket were both gone, the assistant who had worked at Borgin and Burkes, the young man who had visited Hepzibah so regularly and charmed her so well, had resigned his post and vanished. His superiors had no idea where he had gone; they were as surprised as anyone at his disappearance. And that was the last that was seen or heard of Tom Riddle for a very long time."
The use of Tom's actually name, was shocking enough that Harry's attention was drawn to the headmaster's face, it held an odd expression. Made up of bitterness and anger, with a strange shadow, that seemed almost to be pride.
"Now, if you two don't mind, I want to pause once more to draw your attention to certain points of our story. Voldemort had committed another murder; whether it was his first since he killed the Riddles, I do not know, but I think it was. This time, as you will have seen, he killed not for revenge, but for gain. …"
Dumbledore was wrong. The thought sprung out from Harry's subconscious. If Riddle had truly been the killer this time, then it had surely been to reclaim his family heirloom. If Dumbledore's memories were correct, then Morfin had told him about the locket, so he had to have known what it was. Surely, he would have been angry, perhaps at his mother who had sold it and then still failed to survive, but also at the woman who had bought it. However, if that had been his true motive surely, he would have killed Borgin as well. Instead, he just left?
"… had once robbed the children at the orphanage, just as he had stolen his uncle Morfin's ring, so he ran off now with Hepzibah's cup and locket."
"Seems a bit mad doesn't it," said Harry with a frown, "throwing away his job, just for a couple of trin…"
"Mad to you perhaps, but not Voldemort," said Hermione. "He'd already thrown away all the important jobs, clearly he didn't care about that."
"I hope you will both understand in due course exactly what those objects meant to him."
"He would have thought that locket was rightfully his," Hermione nodded. "And I suppose that he saw the cup as a bonus."
"It had once belonged to one of the Hogwarts founders," said Dumbledore. "I think he still felt a great pull towards the school and that he simply could not resist an object so steeped in Hogwarts' history. There were other reasons, I think … I hope to be able to demonstrate them to you, in due course. And now for the very last recollection I have to show you, at least until you manage to retrieve Professor Slughorn's memory from us. Ten years separate Hokey's memory and this one. Ten years during which we can only guess at what Lord Voldemort was doing."
He signalled for the children to stand. Once they were on their feet once more, he emptied the last memory into the Pensieve.
"Whose memory, is it?" asked Hermione.
"Mine," Dumbledore said with a smile, as he reached out and grabbed Harry by the shoulder, pulling him down through the shifting silver mass, landing in the very office they had just left. Fawkes was even lumbering happily on his perch, and there behind the desk was Dumbledore.
The younger Dumbledore seemed to be waiting for something and sure enough, moments after their arrival, there was a knock on the door and, the man behind the desk said, "Enter."
Hermione let out a hastily stifled gasp. Voldemort had entered the room. Harry observed him almost clinically, his features were not those that he had seen emerge from the great stone cauldron, almost two years prior; they were not as snakelike, the eyes not yet scarlet, and the face not yet masklike. And yet he was no longer the handsome boy who had emerged from the diary in Harry's second year. It was as though his features had been burned and blurred; they were waxy and oddly distorted, and the whites of the eyes now had a permanently bloody look, though the pupils were not yet the slits that they would become. He was wearing a long black cloak and his face was as pale as the snow glistening on his shoulders.
The Dumbledore behind the desk showed no sign of surprise. Evidently this visit had been made by appointment.
"Good evening, Tom," said Dumbledore easily. "Won't you sit down."
"Thank you," Voldemort replied, and he took the seat to which Dumbledore had gestured – the very seat, by the looks of it, that Harry had just vacated in the present. "I heard you had become Headmaster," he said, and his voice was slightly higher and colder than it had been. "A worthy choice."
"I am glad you approve," said Dumbledore, smiling. "May I offer you a drink?"
"That would be welcome," said Voldemort. "I have come a long way."
Dumbledore stood and swept over to the cabinet where he now kept the Penseive, but which then was full of bottles. Having handed Voldemort a goblet of wine and poured one for himself, he returned to the seat behind the desk.
Harry thought it odd, that the man had not simply summoned the bottle and glasses.
"So, Tom … to what do I owe the pleasure?"
Voldemort did not answer at once, but merely sipped his wine.
"They do not call me 'Tom' anymore," he said. "These days I am known as –"
"I know what you are known as," said Dumbledore smiling pleasantly. "But to me, I'm afraid, you will always be Tom Riddle. It is one of the irritating things about old teachers, I am afraid, that they never quite forget their charges' youthful beginnings."
He raised his glass as though toasting Voldemort, whose face remained expressionless. Nevertheless, the watchers felt the atmosphere of the room change subtly; Dumbledore's refusal to use Voldemort's chosen name was a refusal to allow Voldemort to dictate the terms of the meeting, and they could tell that Voldemort took it as such. Oddly enough, Hermione shivered, as if a drop of cold water had run down her spine.
"I always wondered why a wizard such as yourself never wished to leave the school," Voldemort said after a short pause.
"Well," Dumbledore's smile, grew fractionally bigger, "to a wizard such as myself, there can be nothing more important than passing on ancient skills, helping hone young minds. If I remember correctly, you once saw the attraction of teaching too."
"I see it still," said Voldemort. "I merely wondered why you – who is so often asked for advice by the Ministry, and who has twice, I think been offered the post of Minister-"
"Three times at last count, actually," said Dumbledore, there was something in his tone, that caused Harry to think of the words Albus himself had said about Horace Slughorn, about not wanting to have the fame himself but to sit back out of the spotlight, where there was more room. "But the Ministry never attracted me as a career. Again, something we have in common, I think."
Voldemort inclined his head, unsmiling, and took another sip of wine. Dumbledore did not break the silence that stretched between them now, but waited, with a look of pleasant expectancy, for Voldemort to talk first.
"I have returned," he said after a little while, "later, perhaps, than Professor Dippet expected … but I have returned, nevertheless, to request again what he told me I was too young to have. I have come to you to ask you to permit me to return to this castle, to teach. I have grown and can now show and tell the students things they gain from no other wizard."
It was almost pleading, like the prodigal child returned home begging to be allowed in.
Dumbledore considered Voldemort over the top of his own goblet for a while before speaking.
"Yes, I certainly do know that you have seen and done much since leaving us," he said icily. "Rumours of your doings have reached your old school, Tom. I should be very sorry to believe half of them."
Voldemort's expression remained impassive as he said, "Greatness, inspires envy, envy engenders spite, spite spawns lies. You must know this Dumbledore." Harry could not discern who it was that Riddle was speaking about, the originator of the rumours, or perhaps Dumbledore himself.
"You call it 'greatness', what you have been doing, do you?" asked Dumbledore delicately.
"Certainly," said Voldemort, and his eyes seemed to burn red. "I have experimented; I have pushed the boundaries of magic further, perhaps than they have ever been pushed-"
"Of some kinds of magic," Dumbledore corrected him sternly. "Of some. Of others, you remain as yet woefully ignorant."
For the first time Voldemort smiled. "That old argument," he said softly.
"Perhaps, when you have a bit more experience you will learn to see it too," suggested Dumbledore.
"Well, then what better place to start my fresh research than here, at Hogwarts?" said Voldemort. "Will you let me return? I place myself and my talents at your disposal. I am yours to command."
"And what will become of those you command?"
"My friends," he said after a momentary pause, "will carry on without me, I am sure."
"I am glad to hear that you consider them friends," said Dumbledore. "I was under the impression that they are more in the order of servants."
"You are mistaken."
"Then if I were to go down to the Hog's Head tonight, I would not find a group of them – Nott, Rosier, Mulciber, Dolohov – awaiting your return? Devoted friends indeed, to travel this far with you on a snowy night to merely to wish you luck as you attempt to secure a teaching post."
"You are omniscient as ever, Dumbledore."
Dumbledore set down his empty glass and drew himself up in his seat, the tips of his fingers together in a very characteristic gesture.
"Let us speak openly. Why have you come here, Tom? We both know that this a job you do not want."
Voldemort seemed surprised, "On the contrary Dumbledore, I want it very much."
"To come back to Hogwarts, yes, but to teach? I think not. What is it you are truly after? Why not try an open request for once-"
Riddle's shoulders sagged just an inch before he straightened again, and seemed to gather his resolve, "If you do not want to give me a job –"
"Of course, I don't," said Dumbledore harshly, before he seemed to pause for a moment too long. "And I don't think for a moment you expected me to. Nevertheless, you came here and you asked."
"That is your final word?" Riddle said as he stood, looking deeply disappointed and rejected.
"It is," said Dumbledore, also standing.
"Then we have nothing more to say to each other."
"No, nothing," said Dumbledore.
Harry felt Dumbledore's hand close over his arm again.
"Why?" asked Hermione. "Why did he come back?"
"I have ideas," said Dumbledore mysteriously, "but no more than that."
"What ideas, sir?"
"I shall tell you, when Professor Slughorn's memory has been retrieved. When we have that last piece of the jigsaw, everything will, I hope, be clear."
"Was he after the Defence Against the Dark Arts position again, sir? Only he didn't say," Hermione asked as they got ready to leave.
"Oh yes," said Dumbledore. "The aftermath of our little meeting proved that. You see, we have not been able to keep a Defence teacher for more than a year since."
Harry ducked out of the door while Dumbledore was answering, then hastened away. Pleased to feel the flutter of a Cloak, close to his fingertips.
-o0o-
"It was very strange," Harry finished telling Severus about the meeting with Dumbledore with Sirius and Remus both on the mirror. "It was almost like he was looking for Dumbledore's approval, or as if he wanted to be forgiven for something. He was bitterly disappointed when Dumbledore said no."
"I agree it's strange, Sirius and I will look over those memories once Severus can get them to us, until then the important bit of information is that the cup is definitely the horcrux in the bank," Remus said.
"Absolutely," Percival agreed. As soon as they had made it to Severus' office Harry had withdrawn his memories of the events that had occurred inside the Penseive, for both Severus and Percival to review "You're right though, Harry. And something was not right with Riddle in the first memory either."
"Do you think Dumbledore made him do it? I thought Dumbledore seemed to know too much about her, Hepzibah Smith, you know. I wondered if he had tried the same thing, if that was how they knew about the cup in the first place. Has he been the one the whole way through, is it because of him that Riddle worked at Borgin and Burkes?"
"Will we ever find out?" Remus asked. "I cannot imagine either of them willingly telling us."
"What about the house-elf? Do you think she could still be alive?"
"Not after all those years in Azkaban, she was old already."
"Another thing that is obvious," Severus said with a frown, "is that Dumbledore is planning to set you up to go Horcrux hunting with Granger."
"I know, but that's not happening," Harry said. "I think I'd just about kill her if I had to be alone with her for any length of time. I might just turn it down."
"Or go with her and conveniently get lost," chimed in Sirius, "leaving her alone."
"It's not like she's going to find them anyway," Remus added. "Not when we've got most of them already. We can worry about that later though, it's time for you two to head back to the tower."
"Once again Percival has done a good job," Severus, turned to the boys after the mirror-call had ended, sounding pleased. "I cannot detect any spells on Harry. Now before I send you up to bed just run through that healing spell again."
-o0o-
"I'm tired," Harry complained as he and Percival entered Gryffindor tower via the portrait hole.
"Well, you always insist on trying every spell 'just one more time'" Percival pointed out.
"As if you're any better." Harry poked Percival in the ribs.
Pushing the irritating finger away, Percival, wrapped his other arm around Harry's shoulders and pulled him close, pressing a kiss to his temple.
"Don't you two ever stop," Seamus said, while Dean mimed throwing up.
"I think it's cute," Lavender giggled.
"You pair are no better," Ginny, said laughing as Lavender turned around, grabbing Ron by the back of the head and kissing him passionately.
"Ewww! My eyes! They're burning!" Ginny cried, falling to the ground dramatically, hands thrown across her face. Ron having stopped kissing Lavender in order to breath, reached over and ruffled Ginny's hair, causing her to complain again and then attempt to jump on top of him and wrestle him to the floor.
"What in Merlin's name is going on over here?" snapped a seventh year. "Some of us are trying to study!"
"Sorry," the group chorused loudly, earning a glare, as the student retreated to the desk they were using.
"I hope we aren't as bad as that," complained Seamus, poking his tongue out at the girl who was now concentrating on her books and did not notice.
"Who's up for a game of chess?" Ron asked. Dean volunteered, and so the two boys accompanied by Seamus and Lavender moved away to gather round a chess board.
"So what were you up to tonight?" Ginny asked Harry, as lay his head down in Percival's lap, a textbook in his hands.
"Had a meeting …"
"Shhh," a voice hissed.
"Had a me…" Harry tried again.
"Shhh Harry, shut up."
"As I was saying," Harry said more loudly earning another glare from the seventh year, "I had a meeting with the Headmaster and Granger."
"We aren't supposed to talk about that," Hermione snapped, throwing herself into the chair opposite the couch.
"And then," continued Harry, talking over the girl, "I ducked down to the library," he waggled his book at Ginny, "to pick this up for transfiguration and met up with Perce, and well, here we are."
"Well, I'm done …" Ginny blew on her parchment to dry the ink. "Think I'll go and see Demelza, seeing as you lot are being boring."
Parvati and Neville raced to complete their work and soon departed as well. Neville to tutor a fifth year in Herbology and Parvati hurried over to watch the game of chess.
"You know you aren't supposed to talk about our meetings!" Hermione hissed at Harry.
"And yet you still are," Percival pointed out the hypocrisy, earning himself a scowl. He ignored it in favour of running his fingers through Harry's hair, the soothing touch causing the younger boy to sigh.
"I don't suppose you're going to go away until you've said whatever it is that you want to say, Granger," Harry said, his eyes shut in semi-contentment at the fingernails, gently scratching over his scalp. "So get on with it."
"You know this can't last," she said quietly, dragging her chair so that she could lean closer to Harry. When he did not respond she continued. "This peace, won't last and when it breaks I … we will need to sort it!"
"You can sort it Granger, I'll just be happy to get my NEWTs and get a job. I think I've done enough."
"You can't do that! What about all the innocent witches and wizards?"
"You mean those adult wix who could not be bothered defending themselves? Why should I do anything for them? What have they ever done for me?"
"You're … you're as bad as …HE is!" she gasped.
"You're gonna have to be more specific there Granger, approximately fifty percent of the wizarding population identifies as male," Harry groaned then, as Percival pressed his fingers into Harry's head and began to massage in earnest.
"HIM!"
"Still got nothin. Ooooh."
"You know who!"
"No I don't. Hmmm."
"Vol…."
"Hnnnh, Why don't you just call him Tom?"
"What?"
"Well it's his name. Saves all that confusing nonsense."
"Argh, fine Tom."
"Now how am I as baaaaaad," Harry sighed.
"Abandoning the wizarding world."
"They abandoned me first. First of November 1981, left me sitting on a doorstep. Still don't get how that makes us similar."
"You think of Hogwarts as home, you ha…."
"Oooh there! Just there." Harry gave a happy little wiggle.
"…te muggles."
"Nah."
"Yes, you do!"
"No, I really don't."
"But your family have always been mean to you," she snapped.
"My relatives are not all the people in the world, Granger. I believe I can tell the difference," Harry said calmly. "And I already have a home, so Hogwarts isn't my home."
"No, you don't!"
"Yes, I do. I have a real family and everything," Harry sighed happily.
"NO YOU DON'T."
"Sirius," Harry supplied contentedly, as Percival's fingers continued to move over his scalp.
"You're angry all the time!" Hermione snapped. "Arrogant, think you are better than everyone else!"
"And if you add in top of the class, you haven't been describing me, Granger."
"What?!"
"Well, let's see," Harry swung his legs around and abruptly sat up, dislodging the hands that had been imbedded in his hair. Seeing the seventh year had packed up, Harry spoke to the room in a loud voice. "Guys! I need some help here. Who am I describing? And you can pick me, if you like. Someone who idolises Hogwarts and the Founders, is smart, arrogant, angry, proud of their family, knows a large range of obscure spells and has dab…." his voice was muffled by a hand.
"Why aye reckon that sounds like Hermione," Seamus chuckled. Stepping back from the deathly stare that focussed on him. "Well, doesn' it?"
"How about Harry? It sounds exactly like Harry!" Hermione protested angrily. "It doesn't sound like me at all!"
"Nah, see, Harry's cleva an' all, a powerhouse, sure, but knowing a lota spells, nah. An' let's be honest he's about as fierce as a kitten."
There were nods of agreement from those who had gathered around.
"And on that rather insulting note, I'm too tired to read now. I'm going to bed," Harry yawned. "Comin' Perce."
Perce grinned, and swatted Harry lightly on the backside with the book he had recovered from the couch.
"Don't worry," Dean grinned as the pair passed. "If the beds a rockin' we won't come a knockin'!"
Harry darted from the room scarlet faced to the sounds of laughter.
-o0o-
Peering through the pince-nez balanced delicately on her nose, Amelia bones frowned at the boy in front of her. His parents sat on either side of him, spines rigidly straight staring down their noses, as if daring her to ask her questions.
"Evidence gathering meeting, location Head Aurors office. Witness one: Head of the DMLE, Amelia Bones. Interviewer: Head Auror Gawain Robards. Witness two: Law Wizard, Alfred Parkinson. Interviewee one: Draco Malfoy, underage. Accompanying adults: Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy, parents to the Interviewee. Witness three: Unspeakable Jones. Auror Robards you may begin," Amelia said calmly.
"Um …" Robards swallowed and looked to his notes. "Right, Mr Malfoy, oh…junior, that is ...ah, Draco." Robards wilted slightly in the face of the adult Malfoy's stares, it took Amelia clearing her throat, for him to gather himself. "First of all, this is an information gathering session. The memory of it will be removed by Unspeakable Jones and may be used in evidence, should the matter proceed to a trial." He looked at the three sitting opposite, they all nodded stiffly.
"Right, so ah, Mr Draco Malfoy could you confirm or deny that you gifted two of your professors' bottles of mead on the 20th of December?"
"Yes, I did," Draco said.
"Would you be able to identify the bottles of mead for us?"
"Yes."
"And they were…?"
"1962 Glindenbergs Oak matured mead."
"A princely gift to be giving teachers?"
"They have taught me my favourite subject."
"And which subject would that be?"
"Potions."
"What potions were in the bottles?"
"Objection," the Law wizard protested.
"For what?" Robards asked.
"You don't know that there was any potion in the bottle. Slughorns's cups could have been coated in the poison, or there are any number of other explanations."
"All four present at the time, touched the glasses …"
"It could have been placed on only one of the glasses."
"There is evidence that …"
"What evidence? I happen to know that the bottle from Slughorn's office was accidently dropped …"
"Fortunate then that the one that the gifted to Professor Snape remains untampered with then isn't it," Amelia cut in, causing Lucius Malfoy to sniff loudly. "Continue please Head Auror."
"What potion was placed in the bottles?"
"I don't know," Draco said.
"Perhaps you could start by telling us in your own words, where you came by the bottles of mead that you gave to Professors Snape and Slughorn."
"I just grabbed the bottles from the cellar where they're kept."
"Then how did they become laced with such a deadly poison?"
The three exchanged glances.
"If I might offer an explanation," Lucius Malfoy said. Robards glanced at Amelia and then indicated for Lucius to continue. "I believe that this has been a terrible and nearly tragic accident. You see, both my father and grandfather, placed many bottles into the cellar during their lifetimes. Such that both were envied for the quality of their suppers. On more than one occasion a dinner guest was found, wandering into the cellar and attempting to make off with a bottle or two. This led to them taking certain steps to discourage such incursions. I believe grandfather started it. When he purchased new wine, he would always purchase more than one bottle. He would then add a mild poison to one bottle and not the others, hiding that bottle amongst the shelves, in a pattern only he was aware of. Once father was of age, he was taught the secret as was I. Draco however is not yet of age and has not yet been shown."
"Are you saying your family routinely poisons guests?"
"No!" Lucius replied firmly. "The only time someone might get their hands on a bottle would be if it was stolen. The head of the house always knows how the bottles are arranged and is always the one to retrieve the bottles when they are needed, there is no risk to dinner guests."
"I believe you said that they used a mild poison? What was it? Why was this one different? Have you continued the tradition? What poison do you use?"
"A mild poison left over many years may have … strengthened," Lucius said by way of explanation. "And I cannot recall the type of poison, I have never made it, not having procured anything for the cellar myself, as it has been overfull for some time."
"I believe that is enough," the Law wizard cut in. "Clearly this has been a nearly tragic accident, but that is all. This interview is ended. If you wish to progress the matter any further, make it a formal case, but until then, we are done here." He stood, gesturing for the Malfoy's to follow him from the room.
The Unspeakable, moved to leave as well, "I will withdraw the memory and store it in the archives until it is required," he said before making his way to the door.
"So deliberate or accidental?" Gawain said looking at his boss.
Lips pulled into a frown, Amelia considered, "Oh deliberate, but we'll need a warrant to prove that Junior knew about the storage system, or if it was Senior behind it all."
"Through here, is it?" a bumbling voice came through the door, and they could hear the soft tones of Robards assistant answer in the affirmative.
"Ah, Amelia," Slughorn's waist coat covered belly proceeded him into the room. "How are you?"
"Well, Horace," she removed her spectacles and tucked them into a pocket.
"I just wanted to have a quick chat about … well about my accident," he said cheerfully.
"Yes, we have been gathering information, but you know we can't talk about how the investigation is going, just yet. Though I have some questions for you …"
"Oh, there's no need to that. I won't be pressing any charges. Poor Draco is terribly sorry of course. I felt a bit silly myself when I heard."
"Heard what?"
"That he had grabbed one of the bottles that Abraxus had put down … it used to be quite well known that the Malfoys used to spike their wine, to prevent anyone taking the bottles. Draco, is too young to have known any better of course. Such a horrible accident. Poor boy is dreadfully upset, I'm sure that is punishment enough."
"Horace, you were in the hospital wing for a week!" Amelia protested.
"All's well that ends well, though isn't it?"
"Just consider Horace, what if one of the boys who was with you had drunk as well? Did you have two bezours in your kit?"
"Well," Horace had started sweating.
"What if, the one who had drunk it had been Percival Graves, the Ambassador's Godson!" said Amelia.
"What if it had been Harry Potter!" demanded Robards.
"I … I … no it would not have happened, they both cast detecting spells on their glasses," Horace stated, his face red and eyes wild. "No, I won't hear any more on it, I won't press charges, and I won't give a statement," he finished with a sharp nod, turned on his heel and marched from the room.
Robards, whipped around to face Amelia, "What was that? And what are we going to do about it?"
"I believe that was someone who was doing something that they did not want to do," Amelia stared after the man. "And we are going to retrieve our memories, have them verified by the Unspeakables, and I will add them to another case I am working on. And when I find the evidence to prove my theory, we will take the culprit down."
"Good."
-o0o-
"I can do it …" the pointy faced boy rested his hands on the basin as he watched the water spiral its way down the drain. Scouping some up into shaking hands he splashed his face. "I can do it…"
He raised his eyes to stare at his own pale faced reflection.
After the interview in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and being on the receiving end of harsh words and even harsher spells from his father, Draco had returned to the castle. Shaking and anxious he had stumbled his way through the hallways, only making it to the second floor, before his legs gave out. Finally he had pulled himself into the abandoned bathroom on the second floor. Pansy had once told him that nobody used it because of the morbid ghost who haunted one of the stall and Draco was currently relieved to have the knowledge.
The time to complete his task was running out, and soon the Dark Lord would know that he had failed in his latest attempt, and then his father's punishment would look like a fairy tale picnic. The shiver that wracked his body had him falling to the floor, chin narrowly missing the porcelain basin.
At least it looked like he was making some progress on the cabinet in the Come-and-Go room. That had been a fortunate find. If he could get it working, it would be the answer to his prayers. And if not … his heartbeat wildly in his chest. He did not want to give up just yet, but perhaps there was some sense in his mother's back-up plan. His impending panic attack was interrupted.
"What are you doing in my toilet?"
-o0o-
Cut
Assault at Hogwarts- Locked Wizengamot
Assault at Hogwarts? Surely not I hear you protest. I must sadly relate that a seventh year has physically attacked one student and magically attacked another. How could this happen, you ask? Simple Quidditch. Is it time for this game to be declared out-dated? As the details of the case are currently before the Wizengamot, we will withhold the name of the students involved. However, both students are the children of very respected members of the wizarding community.
Details are limited as the charges have been laid in a closed session of the Wizengamot. All that is currently known is that the events took place in and around last week's Quidditch match between, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff.
Rumours abound that the student magically assaulted at the school, was the first-line keeper and it was this interference that prevented them from participating in the match, leading to the Gryffindor team playing with their second-string keeper. Students who attended the match report that after a match spent ignoring the captain, the second string keeper was stood aside. The captain making the controversial decision to play on without a keeper. Angered by this the now ex-keeper, snuck back onto the pitch with a beater's bat, stolen from the equipment locker, and deliberately hit a bludger in the direction of the Gryffindor Captain and seeker as their attention was on catching the snitch. Injuring them severely.
We must ask what is going on at Hogwarts? Has Albus Dumbledore lost his capacity to control what is going on in the school? What is the Board of Governors doing to rectify this situation?
When asked Albus Dumbledore stated, 'this is simply a case of school-yard rivalries, and I am very disappointed that the student's guardians have decided to take it this far. The matter could have been adequately dealt with, within the school.'
However, given the events at the end of the last school year, with the assault of ward of the American Ambassador, it is clear that is not the case. Where will it end? How can we assure our children are safe while at Hogwarts.
Updates to follow.
LJ Peters.