Chapter 23

Chapter Summary:

A/N:

-o0o-

Charlotte Smith, sat up and stretched the muscles of her back, long grown stiff and sore in the position she had held for the last few hours, so engrossed had she been in her research. A long correspondence with some specialist healers in Siberia had led to her acquisition of the dusty tome that rested on the table in front of her. For all appearances it was as innocent as a newborn lamb. But the contents contained on the fine parchment pages bound within the light tan leather cover, were anything but benign. The title roughly translated to The Mystery of the Soul. It was the study of a group of … shaman … monks … witch doctors … she did not know what term best described them. The hand drawn illustrations showed them wearing heavy fur trimmed robes of a style not native to the area. The text was, strangely, written in latin, which was not a language common amongst the local people. What appeared to have started as a group designated to helping the elderly, injured and mentally ill of the surrounding regions had evolved into something much more sinister. There were chapters of illustrations detailing the experiments they had performed. It appeared that initially these were an exploration into treatments aimed at assisting their patients and improving their treatment but they devolved quickly until the poor people they held custody over become nothing more than lab rats. Some of the final pages were very gruesome indeed. At one point they had run out of … she supposed the word was …test subjects and had raided nearby villages stealing away the very young and old, so that their 'work' could continue.

That had been the beginning of the end. Having gotten used to their power inside their own facility they made only minimal attempts to hide who had committed the kidnappings and the surrounding peoples gathered together to rescue their loved ones annihilating the group entirely, leaving behind the one tome as a warning. There was a sad note on the final page stating that once they had managed to gain control of the facility they found that the elders had died and the children had been injured beyond recovery.

Despite a passing familiarity with the language, translating the book was difficult going especially once she reached the more morally questionable experiments. It was worth it though, as she found notes on their studies into the killing curse. They researched it in depth, there were chapters of notes and hypotheses. It started with observational case studies in its use to assist the terminally ill in dying. They discovered its mechanism of action. It was soul magic. Similar to the dementor's kiss, it parted the soul from the body. Unlike the creatures, who syphoned the soul away gently teasing it out of the body, the spell's cleaving was so violent that the body's systems were shocked and ceased to function instantly. In passing they noted changes in the behaviour of the 'healers' who performed the spell.

There were other studies that showed the effects were lessened in those who were genuinely performing the spell to provide relief to their long suffering patients and contrastingly more severe in those who enjoyed casting the spell or were casting it as part of 'testing'. They created a device to view the soul and it showed that each casting caused a wound that dulled and darkened the soul as it scared. The device they used to observe the changes in the soul had been lost to time, and there were not enough details in the text to enable it to be recreated, though Charlotte wished otherwise, as it might provide a valuable insight into, what she now viewed as, Hermione's disease.

Still further results on those who experimented with the curse, showed that when used on an innocent and cast without compassion, use of the spell could tear pieces free from the soul. The broken pieces were never recovered. Each of the 'healers' who had fallen victim to this facet of the curse became a patient at the facility and were not mentioned again. By carefully putting together the arrival of new patients with the last mention of the healer, it became obvious that they presented with a range of schizoid and psychopathological illnesses.

The dedicated studying of Avada Kedavra, seemed to be a major turning point in the devolution of the group, each experiment after that became steadily more horrific. It was surely not too far a stretch to believe that something similar had occurred in Hermione, regardless of her behaviour prior to casting that spell, afterwards her soul would have been injured and scarred.

All was not lost however, there had been one experiment early on, a hypothesis grown from a journal entry. A patient who had suffered an abdominal wound that had become infected and had failed to heal, had been euthanised. The healer who had cast the spell had known the young man and spent the following night wracked with guilt and remorse. The next day when studied under the device his soul wound was already healed and was hardly scarred, his soul not marred by any darkness at all, the scar presenting as a thin white line. Therein might be Hermione's saving. But how to get the girl to feel remorse? A hard ask, when the man she had killed was deemed to be evil, and his death was still being celebrated.

Rubbing her eyes tiredly Charlotte made a last entry into her notes before packing away her books and heading home.

-o0o-

"Hold this for a second Fay," Parvati thrust the two bags she had been carrying at her friend, as they passed the lavatory.

"Do you want us to wait?"

"Nah, I'll only be a minute, I'll catch you up before you even get to class," she replied, and side stepped abruptly through the open doorway.

"Here let us help," Harry offered. "It looks heavy." He indicated the bundle of bags that Fay was now attempting to throw over her shoulder.

"She had Lave…" But whatever the girl had been going to say was drowned out by an ear-piercing, blood-curdling scream.

Immediately, the group pivoted as one and bolted into the bathroom. The blonde was laying on the floor by the row of sinks. Blood was splattered on the walls and mirrors, it pooled on the floor in stark contrast to the grey face of Lavender Brown. While the others were still trying to comprehend the horrifying sight, Percival had flicked his wand and sent his patronus running to fetch Severus Snape. The warm light speeding past was enough to break Harry from his shock and he dropped to his knees beside the girl, his wand falling into his hand in less than a heartbeat.

"No!" Ron's scream joined the cacophony of Parvati and Faye's cries echoing from the tiled walls.

"Run and get Madame Pomfrey," Percival ordered, keeping his eyes on Harry's attempts at using Severus' healing spell. "One more go, then I'll take over Harry," he said quietly. "We'll take turns until help gets here."

"Vulnera Sanentur," Harry sang, focussing on the cadence and rhythm, trying to perfect the movements they had practiced.

Percival leant over and continued the chant, "Vulnera Sanentur."

Through the rips in her clothing they could see the wounds healing, but it was slow going, and she had already lost a lot of blood. It was thickening as it slowly seeped across the cold floor, wetting the knees of their trousers.

Harry leantback on his haunches, looking away from Lavender's face, to see a panicked Ron clutching her hand. In the intervening minutes Parvati had given in to her shock and was now sitting on the other side of her friend, statue-like and ashen faced. Running feet heralded approaching assistance.

"Whatever has …" gasped Madame Pomfrey. She froze for a second as her brain processed the scene, then her Mediwitch mask dropped and she was all business. "Out of the way children let me through."

Harry stood quickly and physically lifted the still unmoving Parvati to the side to create room for the Medi-witch.

"They'll help her," Harry tried to reassure the girl, as Severus entered the space. Robes swirling as he took the opposite side of Poppy Pomfrey, Percival sidestepping quickly out of the way.

"There's no heartbeat," Madame Pomfrey abruptly advised as she read the results of her diagnostic spell.

"How long has it been?" Severus glanced up at the teens.

"I don't know!" Harry exclaimed aghast that he had forgotten to check such an important detail.

"She had a pulse when we got here," Percival said surely, "about a minute after the warning bell. But we were trying to stop her bleeding, so I didn't check it again. Sorry." The boy looked devastated at not having the information for them..

"You have done an admirable job," he turned back to the matron. "Stopping the bleeding was the priority."

"Under five minutes,' Poppy murmured quietly so that only Severus could hear, "not all hope is lost. If you can close those wounds, I'll spell a blood replenisher into her …"

"At least two," Severus muttered, taking in the sheer volume of the liquid on the floor.

"You are right," Poppy agreed with a wince, "Then we will see about the heart, but if there is not enough fluid …"

"Why is half my class …" the strident tones of Minerva McGonagall echoed off the tiles, followed by the woman herself entering the room.

"Minerva, see about taking these children somewhere, at the very least they'll need cups of sweet tea, for the shock," Poppy instructed, her wand flicking sharply over Lavender's body, a strange counterpoint to Severus' smooth movements that matched the low tune he was chanting.

"Oh my," Minerva gasped, taking in the scene. "Come now, there is nothing more you can do here. We'll go to my office its closer than the infirmary. Bobbin?"

A house elf appeared.

"If you could write a note on the board in my classroom, asking the students to read the next chapter in their texts and write me a twelve inch summary, that would be appreciated, after that please send a tea service to my office."

"Yes, Professor McGonagall, Ma'am," the house elf bowed and popped away.

Minerva led the five stunned students to her office and soon had them seated in squishy armchairs, round a blazing fire, clutching mugs of sweetened tea, a tin of Ginger Newts lay open on the desk.

"Is anyone up to telling me what happened," she asked, much quieter than she had spoken when entering the bathroom.

"Lavender left breakfast first to go to class," Parvati said, eyes staring dully into the fire. "When the bell went, I … I thought I would just duck to the loo on my way past. She was lying on the floor … there was blood everywhere."

Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes, and her whole body shuddered. Fay left her own seat and moved towards Parvati. The chair grew in width so that she could sit beside her friend, gently removing the cup from Parvati's hands and passing it to Harry. In return he held out a soft blanket that the professor had conjured. Fay slipped it around Parvati's back and over her own shoulders surrounding them both.

"We were still in the hall," Fay nodded to Harry, Percival and Ron, "when we heard, we heard Parvati scream, so we ran …"

"We, Percival and I, have been trying to learn some healing spells," Harry said, "but we don't know them properly yet. We tried …" his voice cracked sharply into a higher register.

"I sent a patronus to fetch Professor Snape, and sent Fay to get Madame Pomfrey."

"There was so much blood," Parvati moaned.

At that, Ron shuddered. "Do you think she'll be ok?" he asked quietly.

"They'll do their best," was the only assurance Harry could offer.

-o0o-

Severus Snape was tired.

It had taken several hours and the combined efforts of Poppy and Severus, and they had even had to call on the Charms Master, to stabilise Lavender Brown. Stabilise, might have been too strong a word, Poppy was in for a long night, he had encouraged her to call in assistance from St Mungos, but Dumbledore had blocked her floo after Harry's healer had come through the last time, so they had to send the message by owl, the distance being too great for a Patronus.

"Severus!"

The Potions Master cursed, but did not get to his feet, a weary wave of his hand had the door unlocking.

"Dumbledore," he acknowledged as the man himself, barged into the room.

Not even sparing a cursory glance at his spy, Dumbledore began to make his demand. "Where's my potion?"

"What?" Severus blinked, taking a moment to catch on to the man's meaning. As headmaster, the man must have known about the incident with Miss Brown, surely the old goat could not be so selfish as to put the life of a student below his own.

"Where is my potion? Surely you have one for me to try already?"

"It's not been a day! I told you it would take a month to make, and I haven't begun it or the experiments as I've spent the morning with Poppy, trying to save Miss Brown's life!"

"I expected better from you! You had best get started now."

"This is a school, Dumbledore, so it should be no surprise to you that the students are my highest priority, as they should be yours, and I actually have classes to teach."

"Until further notice this takes precedence," Dumbledore demanded.

"I can't see the Governors agreeing to that."

"You'll be the one dealing with the consequences either way. We wouldn't want someone to let it slip that you were allowed free from Azkaban without a trial, now would we? Not after all the trouble there's been with Sirius Black. Imagine the uproar," Dumbledore smirked. "I'll leave you to it. But you had better have something ready by tomorrow morning at the latest."

With a swirl of his purple robe he swept from the room.

Severus swore again.

"He's a bloody nuisance," Severus continued to grumble as he got to his feet and moved into his laboratory. How was he going to do this? There had to be some potion that he knew that could be used but he had to be careful. Dumbledore had studied alchemy and there was little about potion making that he did not know. Was there even a potion that would heal such a wound? Should he even make it if he could find one? Would it be simpler just to let the wound kill the man? Would that make him a murderer? Or would it just turn Dumbledore into a martyr? With another groan Severus cleared the table and went to gather ingredients from the stores.

-o0o-

Hidden behind a moving wall in the Gryffindor Tower was a small study. It was just large enough to hold a desk and chair, a bookcase (that was rather disappointingly empty), a small fireplace (without floo connection, she had checked), a plush armchair covered in burgundy velvet and a stone potions bench, that had various tools scattered on it. It was the perfect hiding place for Hermione Granger. She had been very excited when Dumbledore had rewarded her with the knowledge that pulling down on the sconce to the left of the fireplace would reveal a private study area. He had said that a long time ago it had been used as the Head of House's office, but he had taken over it when he was head boy and locked it to all others. Now it was hers, it had been a reward back in fourth year for sticking with Harry through the tri wizard tournament fiasco. She might no longer be friends with the boy, but she was not giving the room back. No, she had sealed it to herself with blood. If Dumbledore had not wanted her to lock him out of it then he should never have let her read that book. Now she had the perfect spot in which she could plan her ascension and his downfall when the time was right. She smiled smugly to herself. The concept that the headmaster might have taken precautions against such a thing never entered her mind.

For the moment though she had another task, ostensibly it was the next step in the headmaster's plan, though it coincided with her own. It had taken a while for her to gather all the ingredients she needed but she had them now and that was all that mattered. Another week and the potion would be complete, then she would gain the memory, proving once again how much better than the others she was. Not once in all her internal ramblings did she stop to consider the fate of Lavender Brown, the girl was merely one more stepping stone on Hermione's path to greatness.

As she chopped, squished, shredded and stirred, her thoughts danced across the brightly coloured pictures of her future.

-o0o-

"How's Lavender?" Harry asked as Ron flopped onto the couch beside him. It was late, and the common room was nearly empty.

"Not great," the red-head said glumly, "she's still unconscious."

"It doesn't seem right," Harry sighed. "I've gotten so used to magic making everything better that it seems wrong that it can't fix this."

"It can't fix everything," Ron said. "There's been Quidditch players who've been hurt so badly in matches that they were never the same again. Not to mention Lockhart."

"For a long time we thought that my parents wouldn't get better either," Neville reminded grimly.

"Yeah, but we're at school. They keep saying there's no safer place than Hogwarts. Bit of a laugh isn't it. Did Madame Pomphrey give you any idea how long it will take for her to get better."

"No, just that she's improving, but she can't say more than that 'cause we're not her family," Ron grumbled.

"That's rough. I heard her parents had been by."

"They were there today, I overheard them say they might be moving her to St Mungos tomorrow."

"Might be for the best, surely they've got better access to specialists there?"

"Yeah," Ron nodded glumly.

The other teens made vaguely comforting noises.

A movement over his shoulder caused Percival to glance to his left, Harry and Neville followed his gaze and they noted Hermione ducking into the stairwell, acting suspiciously. Her hand was quickly withdrawn from her pocket as if she had just dropped something into it. They turned back to the group as she glanced around the room, then she quickly climbed the stairs.

"I wonder what she's up to?" Neville murmured to Harry.

Craning his neck to watch the girl climb the stairs, the dark haired boy grunted.

"Not worth worrying about," Percival muttered. "If she's up to no good, it will become evident soon enough."

"Wit' 'er face like that we all know she's up ta somethin'," Seamus agreed. " just 'ave to wait 'n see."

"I bet it was her!" hissed Parvati.

"Yep," agreed Fay.

"Without proof there isn't much we can do, but you guys watch your backs. No going anywhere alone from now on," Dean said.

"I agree," Percival said, before the girls could protest. "We know you're both capable witches but we don't know for sure who did or what their motive was. If Lavender was targeted because she was a Gryffindor, then all the girls are equally at risk, and we should make sure the younger kids are protected. If it was because she had offended Hermione somehow, then you're possibly more at risk than anyone else, Parvati, having taken the Prefect's position."

"Fine!" grumbled Parvati. "What do we do about sharing a dorm with her though?"

Fay looked stricken.

"You've finished doing divination with your rune stones haven't you?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," said Parvati, curious at Harry's apparent change of topic.

"Depending on what they're made of we could re-use those to give you some protection, if you don't mind?"

Seeing Parvati frown, Fay volunteered, "I didn't have much luck with the stones, so we can use mine. They're rose quartz."

"Nice, quartz is perfect for a runic array for warding, but I'll need to add different runes to them, so they might not work quite the same after," Harry warned, holding out his hands for the stones.

Fay rifled through her own satchel and dug out a small leather bag, held closed with a drawstring. Harry tipped the stones onto his hand and carefully inspected them, setting eleven aside, before passing the bag back to Fay. The others looked over his selection, Fehu -success, Uruz- strength, Thurisaz -luck and protection, Halgaz- the force of nature and destruction, Isa- frozen in time, Algiz- protection, Sowilo- awareness, Teiwaz- success, Berkana- preparedness, Laguz- cleansing, Othala- which he flipped into reverse- stuck. The stones were then sorted into two groups, Fehu, Uruz, Thurisaz, Sowilo and Isa, and Teiwaz, Halgaz, Algiz, Berkana and Othala reversed. Laguz he placed by itself.

Harry took his wand and carefully began engraving small runes around the edges of the stones until they were completely covered. The first set were given to Parvati and the second to Fay, he explained how they were to lay them at the corners of their area in the dorm with either Thurisaz or Algiz in the very centre..

"What about Lavender?" asked Parvati at the same time that Fay asked. "What's the last stone for?"

"When Lavender gets out, we'll get some more stones and I'll create another set."

"She can use my rune stones," Ron insisted. "I doubt I'll get much use out of them."

Harry just smiled his acknowledgement before adding that the last stone was to be placed above the doorway into their dorm, to try and protect them from external influences, though its effects would be somewhat limited being only a single stone.

They did not notice the curly headed girl who now descended the stairs and was watching the group of sixth-years with a scowl on her face.

"I'm sorry about Lavender, Ron," Harry said as they gathered up their things.

"You're right though, she'll get better treatment at St Mungos than here," the red-head sighed.

Hermione made herself comfortable on a couch out of sight of a group as they tidied up and moved up the stairs. They would get what was coming to them. A week from tomorrow she would have the memory from Slughorn, proving Harry to be an embarrassment once again. Then if what Ron had overheard was true, his pretty little girlfriend would be removed from Hogwarts and he would be bereft. Ha!

It was concerning that she was apparently recovering. The last thing Hermione needed was for the bint to wake up enough to identify her attacker. If only the interfering potion's master and mediwitch were not so good at their jobs, and if only the girl had not been found so fast. Steps would need to be taken to ensure that no secrets were spilled. Hermione chuckled quietly, and that would just be another bit of Ron's karma. It served him right, for not doing what he was supposed to. Satisfied for now the girl, pulled out a sheet of parchment and wrote a note that she sent off with a Hogwarts house elf.

-o0o-

Harry lay on his bed, reading by the light of his wand, curtains drawn tight so that he would not disturb the other sleepers. At least he assumed the others were sleeping, there was no noise from without the curtains, but they had all long since learned how to cast silencing charms. He felt Percival's presence and flicked his wand to allow the other boy to join him.

"What's bothering you?" Percival asked as he slid onto the bed, tucking his feet under the blankets. Despite it getting on towards spring the night air was still cold.

"I just feel like there might be something in here?" Harry gestured to the grimoire that lay open on the bed.

"To do what?"

"To help Lavender. She didn't deserve what's happened to her. I think Parvati's right, it had to have been Hermione. How could she do that to someone? Did she know what the spell did before she cast it, or was she just trying it out?"

"Has Hermione ever successfully performed a spell that she hasn't practiced before?"

"I …" Harry thought back to the very first train ride and a voice echoed out of his memories 'they've all worked for me so far'. "I don't know, she said that all the spells she'd tried had worked for her when we first met, but …"

"Who knows what went on at her house, before she got here. Not to mention she had access to a lot of the Potter library before she ever started school. What have you seen in class?"

"She's like the rest of us I guess, she has to do it a few times before she gets it. It's just that she seems to pick things up faster, maybe two or three goes, where the rest of us take five or six. Though now I wonder if that was because she had already tried them before."

"Then to do it like that … she has to have done it before, which means …"

"She knew what it would do," Harry swallowed harshly. "Do you think she was ever really a nice person or has it been an act this whole time?"

"I don't know." Percival slipped his arm around Harry's shoulder and encouraged the messy haired boy to lean on him.

With a sigh, Harry gave in and bent to rest his head on Percival's shoulder. Slowly flicking through the pages, Harry kept searching for a spell that would help Lavender. If the girl recovered they would know for sure who had harmed her, and the information could be passed along to Sam, and, assuming the culprit was Hermione, the committee that was reviewing her case for the Wizengamot.

The thick parchment pages fluttered underneath his fingers a couple moving at a time, until they stubbornly refused to turn anymore. Harry glared at them in frustration. "Turn damn it."

"Perhaps it's trying to tell you something," Percival suggested calmly.

Taking a closer look at the page, Harry noticed it seemed to be a spell of protection … or perhaps punishment … maybe both. A sensation of ice dropping into his stomach, made him freeze, it was a curse. A curse to protect things from being stolen.

"Perce?" Harry glanced over at his boyfriend. "Have you seen this before?" He tapped the page with his index finger.

Chuckling Percival replied, "I can't tell as I can't see it now. Your Grimoire obviously prevents anyone, not family from reading it." He bopped Harry on the nose.

"Oh, do you think I can discuss it with you?"

"Give it a try, if you can't and you're just testing things out, the punishment shouldn't be too bad, maybe the loss of your voice for a day, or the book not opening for you for a while."

"Oh," Harry frowned, not wanting to be cut off from the tangible link to his family.

"General terms should be ok, as long as you don't try and tell me the actual spell. You could always ask Fleamont's portrait if you want to check before you try anything."

"Ok," Harry hesitated a moment, glancing at his trunk as he weighed up the energy required in fishing out the portrait against the hypothetical consequences. Deciding against moving he said, "I think I've found the spell that protects the Grimoire. It …" he paused to think about how to explain. A figure grew in the middle of the page, it was a man with a very long beard, overlaying his image was that of a smaller person with messy hair and glasses. He was standing in what Harry recognised to be the Headmaster's office, but instead of the trinkets that were usually housed there, he was surrounded by statues, portraits and other items that Harry recognised from Potter manor. The man/boy reached out and took hold of the Grimoire. "That buggering old goat!"

"Harry?"

"I think Dumbledore polyjuiced himself as me to try and get into the Grimoire!"

"So the spell it is showing you is the one it used to protect itself."

"I wonder why it is showing me?" Harry stared at the images as they changed to show a Dumbledore with a decayed hand. The man in the picture kept coming back to take different items from the room out of the picture. Each time he returned, his hand, wrist and arm blackened and decayed even further. "I wonder if there is any way to stop the spell," Harry muttered.

The man/boy returned to the picture, carrying a pile of objects which he returned to their places in the room. With a snort, Harry thought that he could not imagine Dumbledore returning anything he had stolen. A very real feel of cold rose off the pages, and the scene shifted, Dumbledore this time as himself, lay in a hospital bed being held down by four strong men, while a mediwitch rather gruesomely amputated his arm just below the elbow. The sinews were gnarled like tough leather and were difficult to cut through cleanly. Dark blotches, that Harry took to be blood, ran from the wound and pooled on the floor.

"Eww," the younger of the two on the bed gagged. "Did not need to see that! I think I have to talk to Severus," Harry said.

"Now?"

"Well tomorrow at least, can I tell you then too? I don't think I can talk about it twice."

"Alright. Bed now." Percival encouraged.

"Don't think you're going anywhere!" Harry stated adamantly clutching at his boyfriend's arm.

"No?" Percival gave a half smile.

"No." Harry shook his head. "After what I've just seen, I'll either not sleep or have nightmares all night long."

"Come here then." Percival moved to lie fully under the covers, holding them away from the bed, to leave a space for Harry to crawl into. When they were both lying down, he drew the younger boy close, wrapping his arms around him, and tucking Harry's head into the crook of his neck. Percival did not complain when Harry's body began to shake uncontrollable, as his mind processed the images he had seen.

-o0o-

A much younger looking, though still rotund, Horace Slughorn sat at a table surrounded by students. From the green decor, and water filtered light, he was in the Slytherin common room. The watchers observed as he jovially answered questions and demonstrated wand movements to the boisterous children.

"People like you, should not be allowed," a haughty voice dragged their attention towards a fireplace on their left.

A lone student was lying on a rug on his stomach, in front of the fireplace reading. Three taller boys, perhaps fourteen years of age, stood looking down on him, arms crossed and faces sneering.

"Like at all!" joked the one standing behind the leader. The third laughed viciously.

"You should crawl back into whichever foul bog you dragged yourself out of, you're not wanted here."

By now the group had formed a circle around the boy.

"I…I deserve to be here, I got my letter the same as everyone else."

"Do you know what I think," the largest boy bent to look the smaller in the eye. "I think you stole that letter, and you don't even have a wisp of magic."

"I do too!' the boy protested.

"Do not," grinned one of the other boys, crowding forward.

"Think you have the right to talk back to us do you?" The leader said again. The last boy moved forward now. "I think we need to teach you a lesson, show you exactly why Mudbloods are inferior. What do you think, Amos?"

"Oh I heartily agree, Mikhail," the leader nodded, drew back his foot and rammed it into the younger boy's side.

"Ow, stop it!" Tom cried, rolling to the side in an attempt to dodge the blow.

"Oh now he thinks he can get away without his punishment!" The tallest of the three, grabbed Tom by the collar of his robes and lifted him to his feet. Not even leaving it a second Mikhail threw the first punch. Tom ducked out of the way.

"Stop it!" he pleaded.

"Stop it, stop it," Mikhail mocked, punching with each word.

"Gentlemen!"

At the same moment the Head of House's voice rang out, drawn by the commotion, Tom felt a force that had been itching under his skin, burst free of his chest, sending the surrounding boy's flying across the room. He glanced up through his arms that he was using to shield his head from the blows. Slowly he unfurled, arms falling to wrap around his chest, to see the three boys slumped in awkward disarray.

"Sssssorry," a look of horror on his face, Tom apologised, desperately afraid his head of house would expel him and he would have to return to the orphanage.

"Not to worry, I saw enough to know it was accidentally magic, my boy. Miss Frawley, please escort Mr Riddle up to the Matron to have that lip seen to." Observing the way Tom's arms were hugging his own chest, Slughorn added, "ash her to check for any other injuries too. I'll be along in a minute after I've dealt with the other three."

"Did you see what he did, Professor? That Mudblood attacked me!" Amos Mulciber complained. The scene faded away.

Next watchers were standing in a corridor, Slughorn was two paces ahead of them looking to his left, to where a small dark-haired boy stood in front of a grey haired professor.

"Professor, professor," the boy bounced on his feet excitedly.

"Yes Tom," the professor said in amusement.

"Can I show you? I've been practicing!"

"Certainly, my boy," the man smiled indulgently.

Holding his hands together, without uttering a word Tom pulled them apart, a glowing ball formed in the gap. Rotating his hands, and pulling them wider apart, the ball grew and spun, changing colour from white to red.

"That's very impressive Tom," Slughorn's voice was full of pride as he moved to join the pair. The boy's chest puffed out and he moved them further apart with an upward lift, causing the ball to spin and burst into a multicoloured array of stars. "Oh my, well done Tom, well done indeed. Five points for Slytherin."

The small boy bounced on his toes excitedly.

"I can't wait to see what you do next."

The bottom of a brightly coloured cloak flicked into view at the end of the corridor as the memory faded and the two men were ejected from the pensieve.

Both men fell heavily into their chairs.

"Well he was a cute little bugger," Sirius looked at Remus thoughtfully. "It's surprising the difference a nose can make."

"Magical talent in spades," the werewolf added.

"I can see why Slughorn didn't want to believe Tom had gone bad."

"Yeah, I wonder if he meant to include those?" Remus held up the phial containing the memories, and stared into the glittering liquid. "There does seem to be rather more here than Harry thought there would be."

"Harry did say he got them while Sluggy was fershnickered, maybe he was less exact then he could have been."

"Let's look at the next shall we?"

"Right."

They stood on either side of the pensieve and leant forwards, submerging their faces in the cool liquid.

They returned to the Slytherin Common room. Slughorn was observing the prefects as they tutored the younger students, providing the occasional encouraging word, piece of advice or correction. Remus watched as the entrance opened and a pale-faced Tom Riddle entered the room. He was taller this time, maybe thirteen. His face had become longer, and thinner as he began to show signs of the man he could someday grow into.

"What's the matter Tom," an aristocratic blonde haired boy asked, as a group of similarly sized children moved over to greet the boy.

"I…I…Dumbledore…"

"Come and sit down and tell us what happened, Tom," a girl with a horse-like face encouraged.

Slughorn was now watching as the group moved towards the fireplace and seated themselves on the soft rug in front of it.

"You know the wrought iron door just down the stairs from the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom? I was down by there, trying to decide if I should go to the library or for a walk by the lake, when he approached me. Well he looked at me in that disappointed way he does and said, 'I've heard some very disturbing things about you my boy."

"What disturbing things?" the blonde asked.

"That's exactly what I said,'' Tom nodded. "Then he said, 'things that don't bear repeating, needless to say, I am keeping a close eye on you. You should take care, or else you will come to a sticky end', and then he … smiled at me."

"Smiled?"

"Yes smiled, it was weird. Not a nice smile at all, it made my skin crawl!"

The group muttered for a few minutes watched by Slughorn, until a tiny first year, asked him another question and the scene faded away.

When the world came into view once more they were in Slughorn's office. It looked to be Tom's fifth year careers meeting.

"There comes a time in a boy's life Tom when he must look to the future and think about what contribution he wishes to make to the wizarding world. Have you thought about what it is you might want to do?"

"I thought that I might like to be an Auror," Riddle admitted quietly, causing Sirius to look at Mooney in surprise.

"A mighty aim," Slughorn said, then he frowned as he pulled a small roll of parchment from the pile at his side and passed it over. "It is certainly possible, especially for one of your talents …"

"My goal is to be the Head of the DMLE one day."

"Ah," Slughorn's expression melted like wax into a mix of disappointment and regret. "That is a somewhat harder goal. Unfortunately at this time it would be impossible for you to become the Department Head."

"I know it'll take time and I'll work as hard as necessary," Tom promised eagerly.

"In this case it isn't about hard work."

"Not about hard work? Then what is it about?"

"It's about Blood Tom."

"Blood? I don't understand."

"No I don't expect you would. You have, to this point, been fortunate. Your magical power has meant that many doors have opened for you that would otherwise have remained closed. For example, normally your young friend Abraxus would never have even spoken to you, let alone invited you to their Yule Ball. Recall the start of your first year? I was very worried when you were placed in my house," the rotund man admitted.

It was Tom, who frowned now, "First year?" he echoed. "Oh, I think I remember, no one … no one spoke to me. Not until … oh, you're right it was about power. But surely if I'm powerful enough I can prove …"

"Perhaps one day, but for now the laws are such that no muggleborn may be appointed to Department Head and some Departments are even stricter not allowing muggleborns to be employed there at all. Fortunately the Auror's will accept any sufficiently powerful wix regardless of blood status."

"Maybe I should go into politics instead. That law is …"

"You are not the first to hope to bring about such a change, Tom," Slughorn stated sadly, "Even our Muggleborn Prime Ministers have failed to make those changes."

"But…"

"I know it isn't fair," Slughorn said softly, "but it is the world we live in."

"But what if … I am not Muggleborn?" Tom questioned.

"What are you suggesting? You can not make yourself into something you are not," Slughorn pointed out. "Though you could potentially be adopted by or marry into one of the pureblood families, which would help a little."

"No, I mean, I was left in an orphanage. I know nothing about my family, perhaps I am not Muggleborn at all. As an orphan how would I know? Perhaps it's time I found out."

"It would be impossible that you are a pureblood, no pureblooded child would ever be left in the Muggle world, there are laws against it. But it is possible, I suppose, that you could be a halfblood."

"How do I find out?"

"Well there is Nature's Nobility, though I think it would only list your name if you were a Pureblood or descended from one of the sacred twenty-eight and as I said I think that is unlikely. Or you could go to the Goblins and ask for an inheritance test, I am not sure how much they would charge and there will certainly be a fee …"

"Isn't there a potion I can make?" Tom asked desperately.

"Not as yet, but I am aware of the practice you have been doing my boy. Perhaps you could invent one? Try the book first though, it is easy enough to order from Flourish and Blotts, or there may be a copy in the library. Now run along I've got Mr Malfoy due in a minute."

There was a tugging sensation and both men found themselves returning to the library.

"It's not just me but that was weird, right?" Sirius questioned the werewolf.

Eyebrows scrunching into a frown, Remus nodded. "Why would Dumbledore smiling bother Riddle so much? I mean, it's a bit annoying but not exactly fear inducing. And why would Riddle be near that old grate, that's a dead end as far as I remember?"

"Depends on the smile I guess. We usually see him trying to pose as a benevolent old grandfather, but we know that's not really him, so it just seems fake. Perhaps back then he was not so good at hiding behind a mask. Or he might not have felt the need to hide who he really is from Riddle. As for the grate, maybe it went somewhere back then? I think there were rumours about a hidden room, it was always sealed shut when we were at school. Maybe he was looking out the windows. Can you imagine him as an Auror?"

"Perhaps this is where it started, the point at which he became disillusioned with the wizarding world and wanted to make changes. It's so easy to see how it could have happened."

"It's interesting that his first reaction was politics though not violence."

"A true Slytherin."

"Remus?" Marlene tapped gently on the door, causing the pair to look up.

"Hey, what's up?"

"I just … there was just … I …"

"I'll leave you pair to it, we can work on this again later," Sirius grinned, and waggled his eyebrows at Remus. He picked up the pensieve to return it to the study.

"He's an idiot," Marlene said.

"That he is," Remus said fondly. "But I'm glad to see him getting some of that ridiculous sense of humour back."

"Hmm," Marlene moved to slide her arms around Remus's waist.

He bent down to give her a kiss. It lasted only a brief second before she was pulling away and he sensed something was bothering her.

"What's wrong?"

"I've not been feeling well, and I just want you to run a diagnostic on me."

"Me? Shouldn't we get the healer? I'm sure Addison would be happy to see you."

Marlene rolled her eyes, "I'm not asking Harry's healer to come across from the continent just for me besides I'd be more comfortable if you did it?"

"Alright, I'm not a healer though. What spell do you want me to use?" Remus asked, trying to recall all the healing spells he had learned during the last war.

"Just the general diagnostic, Egritudae Morbo."

Forehead furrowed in concentration, Remus raised his wand, "Egritudae Morbo."

A sheet of parchment rolled out of his wand, Remus tore it off and glanced at the words that appeared on it. His eyes widened in shock and he turned to look at Marlene, before his eyes rolled up into his head and fell to the floor in a dead faint.

-o0o-

"So are you going to tell me what's going on between you and Marlene?" Sirius asked Remus curiously.

Inhaling sharply Remus, paled and shook his head.

"Really Mooney? You haven't spoken two words to her since last night."

"Not now Sirius! How about we watch more of Slughorn's memories."

Backing out of the room with his arms signalling his surrender, the Black Lord went to retrieve the pensieve.

The misty swirl of the memories coalesced into a hallway at Hogwarts, Tom Riddle was standing in front of a wrought iron door, that Remus recognised to be down the stairs from the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. His hand rested upon the cross bar but he released it and whipped around when a voice said "Loitering here again Tom?"

Dumbledore was walking down the staircase.

"You're drawn to it, aren't you Tom?" The elder asked quietly.

"Where does it lead?" the boy answered with a question of his own.

"Perhaps to a hidden corridor or mayhap down a dark path, I believe it is called the Undercroft."

"Why..."

"Why does it call to you?" Dumbledore's voice was so soft it was almost a whisper. "I'm not sure, though if I had to guess, I would say that it is because you are somehow related to the Gaunts."

Tom was so taken in by the thought of family that he did not notice the seductive tone that Dumbledore's voice had taken on.

"The Gaunts?" he whispered, raising a finger to stroke along the ironwork.

"Yes, and through them … to Salazar Slytherin himself."

Wide-eyes were turned on Dumbledore, "I have family?"

"Perhaps," agreed the bearded man. "You are a member of a very important family."

"How do I find them?"

"Well last I heard they had a little place near Little Hangleton," Dumbledore smiled genially. "Though I warn you that your Uncle is not the most pleasant man."

"My Uncle? But how do you know, professor?"

Dumbledore pulled a book from the pocket of his robe and flicked it open in front of the boy, "Here," he pointed, "it's self updating."

Reverently Tom took the book and cradled it in his hands, eyes devouring the words before him.

Simple words on paper. He had parents! Merope Gaunt and Thomas Riddle. Their names written in heavy black ink alongside Birth and Death dates. But above them, a name, Morfin Gaunt, an Uncle.

"Where's Sluggy?" Sirius asked.

Remus turned, "There, by the lower staircase."

There was a flicker as they moved to a new memory.

Time had passed, Tom was sitting on the staircase, near the Undercroft his head held in his hands as his elbows rested on his knees.

"I see your meeting did not go as well as you had hoped," Dumbledore sounding conciliatory.

"No, he doesn't want to know me, cursed my Mum's name and tried to hex me," Tom said forlornly.

"Well," the Transfiguration Professor, sat down, next to his student. "Sometimes family is not all they're cracked up to be, you should see mine!" his laughter fell awkwardly into the silence.

"But Professor …"

"Never mind Tom, you have shown over the years that you are an exemplary student. One day perhaps you will perhaps find the answers you seek," his eyes flicked to the Undercroft's door.

Another flicker and a new memory.

This time they were in the Potion Master's study. Slughorn with his thick, shiny, straw-coloured hair and gingery blonde moustache was sitting in a comfortable winged armchair, his feet resting on a velvet pouffe, a small glass of wine in one hand, the other rummaging in a box of crystallised pineapple. There were a half a dozen teenage boys sitting around Slughorn with Tom Riddle in the midst of them.

"Sir," Riddle asked, "Is it true that Professor Merrythought is retiring?"

"Tom, Tom, if I knew I couldn't tell you," Slughorn waggled his finger disapprovingly at Riddle, with a chuckle. "I would however like to know where you get your information, boy; more knowledgeable than half the staff, you are."

Riddle smiled; the other boys laughed and cast him admiring looks.

"What with your uncanny ability to know things you shouldn't and your careful flattery of people who matter - thank you for the pineapple by the way, you're quite right, it is my favourite-"

Several of the boys tittered again.

"- I confidently expect you to rise to Minister for Magic within twenty years. Fifteen if you keep sending me pineapple. I have excellent contacts at the Ministry."

Tom Riddle merely gave a wry smile as the others laughed.

"As we were discussing, I'm not sure I have the right background for politics, sir," he said slightly uncomfortably as the laughter ebbed. A couple of the boys around him smirked at each other as though enjoying a private joke.

"Nonsense," said Slughorn consideringly. "I think you have demonstrated that you have what it takes to achieve the lofty goals we spoke about. You'll go far Tom. I have never been wrong about a student yet."

The small golden clock standing upon Slughorn's desk chimed eleven o'clock behind him and he looked around.

"Good gracious, is it that time already? You'd better get going boys, or we'll be in trouble. Lestrange, I want your essay by tomorrow or it's detention. Same goes for you Avery."

One by one the boys filed from the room. Slughorn heaved himself out of his armchair and carried his empty glass over to his desk. A movement behind him made him look around; Riddle was still standing there.

"Is something wrong Tom, it seems that you haven't been your usual self lately?"

"Sir I wanted to ask you something … the image blurred briefly then came into sharp vibrant focus, faded, then sharpened once more. Both watchers were ejected from it without warning.

"Well that hurts!" Sirius complained, to a wincing Remus.

They turned to see Dobby, dropping his hand to his side, the echo of a click in the air.

"Miss Head of the DMLE is here to see yous," he squeaked embarrassed.

"Well I guess you had better show her in," Sirius quickly forgave the little elf for pulling them out of the memories so abruptly. "Amelia," he smiled. "Do you have news?"

"Of a kind. The Goblins will not allow us into Lestrage's vault. In light of our interest they have increased the protections on the vault, and given a very strong warning on what would happen to anyone caught breaking into it."

"Argh," Sirius, exasperatedly ran his hand through his hair. "I really want to be mad at them! But, they've been so good with Harry."

"You can't really blame them, Sirius, those same laws kept your parents out of your vault," Remus agreed.

"I know!" he huffed.

"It wasn't all bad," Amelia admitted after Sirius had finished his dramatics. "They felt the need to point out that once the goblet has left the vault it is no longer their concern, and there would be nothing they could do, should something happen to it and they don't pay much attention to the comings and goings of House Elves. Or if the rightful owner requested an investigation into stolen goods and the item was confirmed to belong to them then they would have no option but to give the item over.

"Didn't that last memory Harry saw show the Smith's are the descendants of Hufflepuff?" Sirius mused.

"Descendants yes, but not confirmed Heirs despite what they have tried, and are still trying to convince everyone," Remus disagreed, referencing his hours of research. "In fact rumour has it that the Bones were pretty closely related …" he glanced consideringly at Amelia.

"Unfortunately, that is as you said only a rumour," Amelia smiled ruefully. "It pops up every few years, but I can confirm there's no truth in it. We are distant cousins at best."

Remus moved to uncover one of his boards of notes and crossed off the reference.

They were interrupted by Dobby popping in and out of the room, leaving behind a laden tea tray, with a folded piece of parchment tucked under the plate of biscuits. Sirius unfolded the parchment.

"Who's writing?" Remus asked, "Surely not Harry, we only just spoke to him the other day."

"Scamander," Sirius replied

"Newt?" Amelia asked in some surprise.

"No Theseus. Harry ran into them both at Hagrid's, the boys told him to contact us, he has some interesting questions about Percival."

"Percival?" Amelia asked.

"Yes, it seems that Seraphina's godson resembles the late Percival Graves more than he feels can be explained by being the Great Nephew of a man the boy's never met."

"What are you suggesting Sirius?"

"I don't know. It does seem a bit odd though doesn't it? How he suddenly appeared in the park when Harry was about to be attacked by dementors.

"Yes. It was rather serendipitous," Remus agreed.

"Not that I am complaining at all, given the way things turned out," Sirius shuddered remembering the dementor's chill.

"Surely you aren't suggesting time travel? How could they choose where to go? And wouldn't the moment James and Lily were attacked make more sense. Not to mention that no-one has ever successfully travelled forward in time. Which leaves reincarnation," Amelia added with a frown.

"No-one's successfully travelled forward in time that we know of, at least. All we have are the rather unfortunate events surrounding Eloise Mintumble. Perhaps someone found a way to travel forwards. In their own time they would be missing or presumed dead, and if they integrated well into the new time, how would anyone know?" Remus postulated.

There was silence for a moment, before Amelia shook her head. "The pair of you are ridiculous. Either option is extremely unlikely," Amelia spoke in a no-nonsense manner. "The similarities can probably be explained by being raised with stories of his, I assume, much loved relative, not to mention the influence of Seraphina Piquery who was the original Percival Graves best friend from all accounta."

The two men nodded, thoughtfully.

"Now then, I had best be off, work never stops!" Amelia bustled from the room and a moment later they heard the whoosh of the floo as she, presumably, returned to the ministry.

"What do you think, Remus?"

"Hmm, oh," Remus shook his head to clear his thoughts. "I agree with Amelia, while an interesting hypothetical exercise, Time Travel is really a laughable concept. The first time turners were only invented in the late sixties and they only went back an hour, so it's just not possible that sometime in the twenties they had the ability to travel decades into the future."

"What about Theseus Scamander?"

"It can't hurt to see him. From all accounts he was an excellent investigator, he might be able to help with all this," Remus waved his hand at the boards.

"Well, I'll send a reply and then we can get back to that memory."

-o0o-

"Hey Sirius," Marlene spoke as she walked into the kitchen. "I need a favour."

He frowned, "If it's something to do with Remus the most I can promise is to tie him down in a room somewhere so he can't run away."

"Noticed that too, did you?" Marlene gave a wry grimace.

"Bit hard not to, with the way he runs out of every room you are in."

"Do you think he'll come around?"

"If you're persistent."

With a sigh Marlene shook her head, "that's not what I was going to ask, but thanks. I was actually hoping you would transfigure me so I can go out?"

"Is he making you that uncomfortable?" Sirius asked sombrely. "I'll speak to him. I promise."

"It's not just that. I know I've got to lay low, but with everything, this place is becoming a bit of a prison, and I want to get out for a bit. I thought I might go to Gringotts and see about opening up one of the McKinnon safe houses."

"Alright, come here."

Marlene moved to stand in front of Sirius and he raised his wand, a few scant minutes later a blonde stood where there had been a brunette, and he gazed into newly blue eyes.

"Don't move out without saying goodbye and don't be a stranger if and when you do. I'm sorry for the way things turned out, and I'll be sure to have a word with Remus. He will come round, you know him, he just needs to get over himself first."

"Thanks, Sirius. And for what it's worth. You were right, I don't think we would have worked."

He gave her a hug before she moved to the fireplace and the flames spun her away.

"Was that the floo?" Remus asked entering the room.

With a shake of his head Sirius observed his oldest friend. "Marlene just left," he said blandly.

"What!" Remus turned his head so fast, Sirius was surprised when he did not strain anything. "Why?"

"Well if I had to guess, and this is just a hunch mind you, I'd say it's because you've been an unmitigated arse!"

The blonde froze, then blinked slowly. "No, I …"

"Yes you!"

"I was just trying to deal with it all," the werewolf protested.

"With what exactly? Marlene is smart, intelligent, she makes you laugh, and against any sensibility she appears to love you, you git!"

"She's pregnant," Remus whispered.

"She what? I can not have heard that right!"

"Marlene's pregnant."

"You, the man who was the boy who taught us all the contraceptive and protection spells, you got someone pregnant and then ignored her for two days, while you 'deal with it'?" Sirius said, voice raising.

"She … she …"

"She nothing, Remus. I'm no expert on anatomy, but I'm pretty sure that tango takes two!"

"But … what if it's …"

"What if the baby is what?"

"A monster," Remus suddenly sat, head dropping into his hands.

"No Remus, you don't get to say that. When Marlene comes back, you are going to apologise to her, then you are going to support her through the pregnancy and by the gods if you put in anything less than your best effort, I'm going to tell Harry."

"What?!" Remus half laughed.

"If you don't think that boy would not kick your arse to Avalon and back for abandoning your child and it's mother, then you don't know him half as well as you think you do."

"I don't think I can be a Dad."

"You'll learn, just like James. You won't be alone."

A sigh was the only sound that Remus heard. The pair stared into the fire a little longer before Remus broke the uncomfortable silence..

"Um, Theseus got back to us, he's said he's free tomorrow."

"That's fine I'll write back and arrange to go pick him up from the Leaky or somewhere," Sirius said.

"Where did Marlene go?" Remus' gaze had returned to the fireplace.

"Gringotts, she's looking at moving out."

"Now! With everything that's going on! She can't do that, it's not safe!"

"Well you haven't exactly given her a reason to stay now have you."

"But …"

"But nothing Remus," Sirius said scathingly. "What would Lily say?"

Looking stricken Remus replied, "you're right. I'll … I'll talk to her as soon as she gets back."

"You won't just talk to her, you will fix this! You will grovel on your knees if you have to," Sirius pressed.

"I will," Remus nodded.

"Right, while you're waiting I suppose we should look at that last memory."

-o0o-

-cut-

"Severus."

The hissed name startled the man bent over his cauldron. It was only years of experience that prevented him from jumping and allowed him to maintain a steady hand while he straightened. The dour man glanced around and he noted the door swinging closed silently. Despite the lack of a visible body, he presumed it was Harry, so he finished the last counter stir and removed the cauldron from the heat before he spoke.

"What do you want now?"

"Muffliato."

A moment later, the boy emerged from under his cloak.

"I found something last night, Sev. Something that, I can't explain, I don't know how much I can tell you."

"Well start at the beginning, and we'll see if this was worth interrupting my brewing for," Severus said a bit irritably.

"Oh," Harry stalled a little.

The potion's masters sighed now annoyed with himself "I'm sorry Harry. The headmaster has insisted that I put my efforts into a potion to heal his arm, and I was already trying to create something to help Miss Brown and 6hen there are classes. In short I am overwhelmed."

"That's alright Sev. But wasn't the spell that was used on Lavender …" Harry paused uncertain how to say it without making it appear like he was blaming Severus.

"One of mine," Severus filled in the gap. "To my shame. But it was not cast well. And it was cast with a great deal more intent to maim, then even I had intended, and while it has responded well to the counter, the amount of time that had passed before help arrived combined with that malignant intent, means it is not healing as fully or as quickly as I would like."

"I might be able to help a bit with the headmaster's." Harry waited, until Severus nodded for him to continue. "So I was looking through my family grimoire …"