AN: Um, yeah. Me and updates, lately, not a very good combination. But the good news is that I have finished one of the two other stories I was in the middle of posting, so theoretically this should give me more time for Family Ties. Merry Christmas or another holiday of your choice, and take this update as a Christmas present...
For those who don't remember, last chapter Harry met Sir Nicolas and got invited to his deathday party.
Horatio and Roger showed up in the Entrance Hall, where they were meeting, with baskets of food. „There isn't going to be any food suitable for us at a ghost party," Horatio explained, „so we made sure to bring provisions, in case we don't get out soon enough to have anything at the feast."
„Good thinking," Harry agreed.
Theo came soon after, and Hermione arrived not only with her friend Su, whom Harry had already met once or twice, but with two other girls as well. „These are Lisa Turpin and Mandy Brocklehurst," she said. „And this is Harry Potter."
They peeked into the Great Hall to see the Halloween decorations, and then headed to the dungeons. „As soon as Hermione told me there was a possibility to see a deathday party, I knew I had to go," Lisa was saying. „I mean, what an amazing opportunity! How often do you see something like that! I'm so curious!"
Su sighed. „We know, Lisa," she said.
Lisa grinned sheepishly. „Sorry," she said, „I have a tendency to babble."
„No, it's fine," Harry replied with a smile. „I'm curious too, though a little sorry about the feast."
"Well, the poor man – ghost – can't change when they executed him," Hermione pointed out. "And it's not like he generally asks the living there, I suppose, so no need to take account of our festivities..."
They descended to the dungeons, eating the food on the way, and encountered black candles burning with a spooky blue flame. "Oh, yes, I've read about this," Lisa muttered.
"Really?" Hermione asked curiously. "What is it?"
Harry gave her an astonished look. Until now, he had been convinced Hermione knew everything, much like his cousins.
"Spectral candles," Lisa replied.
"Oh, right," Roger said, "they're used in some runic rituals, aren't they? I know I've come across this..."
"I suppose," she replied. "I never read about that. I'm just really interested in everything related to ghosts, so..."
They reached the room where the celebration was taking place. Sir Nicolas was standing in the doorway. "Mr. Potter," he said mournfully. "Welcome, welcome… so pleased you could come…and your friends as well, of course..."
They entered the room. There was music playing, a strange kind that was very jarring to Harry's ears. Lisa, however, was fascinated.
The room was crowded with ghosts, and as they moved inside, Harry felt chill that seemed to go right through the warming charms on his robes and into his bones, in a very unpleasant way. "I'm afraid I won't last too long here," he muttered. "Let's have a look around before I freeze."
They walked and watched the different kinds of ghosts. "Will your family ghost be coming?" Horatio asked him and Theo.
"You have a family ghost?" Lisa asked, like it was the most exciting thing she had ever heard about.
"Yeah," Harry answered, "but she won't be here. I asked, and my cousin explained she doesn't really do social gatherings much. Liked to avoid them even when she was alive, apparently. Will yours be here?"
"I'm afraid so," Theo said. "I have no interest to meet him, though. He's really rude."
"Mr. Vergilius said he'd come, too," Horatio said. "I'd like to at least greet him."
"Mr. Vergilius? Your family ghost is Vergilius?" Hermione asked incredulously.
Horatio laughed. "Not that Vergilius," he said. "He was just named after him."
Hermione blushed and looked away. "Oh," she said, and then, "Oh, no. Turn back, turn back, I don't want to talk to Moaning Myrtle —"
"Who?" Harry asked her, trying to think where he'd heard the name, as they obeyed her order and at the same time that Su commented, "No one wants to talk to Myrtle."
"She haunts one of the toilets in the girls' bathroom on the first floor," Hermione explained to Harry.
"She haunts a toilet?" He asked incredulously.
"Yes. I think she died as a student? She's wearing student robes, anyway. She's pretty terrible. Her bathroom's even been out-of-order for a few weeks at the beginning of October because she kept having tantrums and flooding the place. I never went in there anyway if I could avoid it; it's awful trying to have a pee with her wailing at you-"
Roger grimaced. "No details, please," he said, and Hermione blushed again.
Harry looked around for a distraction and found it. "Look!" He said. "You said there wouldn't be any food, but what's that then?"
Horatio grinned at him. "You're welcome to try it."
Harry understood as soon as they came closer. The food was either burnt or rotting, and there were even maggots in some of it. He quickly turned his eyes away, but Lisa was studying the table in detail. "He even has a cake!" She said happily.
Horatio was clearly trying not to look as well, and after a moment he exclaimed: "Look, there's Mr. Vergilius! Let's go greet him."
They gladly left the disgusting table. The Yaxley family ghost was polite and well-spoken and very willing to explain. "The taste of the food becomes more tangible when you do this to it," he said. "We can...almost feel it that way. But I understand it makes it hard for you to be here. You must be cold, anyway. You shouldn't stay too long."
Harry nodded. "I just need the headless hunt to arrive, and to speak to Sir Patrick Podmore."
Mr. Vergilius sighed. "Did Nick put you up to that? Well, you can try, but I'm afraid there's no reasoning with that man. A purer case of Gryffindor I've never known – I'm sorry, I meant no offence."
Before Harry could ask what did he mean exactly – not offended, merely curious – a hunting horn sounded, and Mr. Vergilius said: "And here they go."
Ghost horses with ghost riders burst through one of the walls, and the rider in the front held his head under his arm. They rode to the middle of the dance floor, and the chief rider dismounted, raised his head on his hands to see properly, and marched to Sir Nicolas. Harry sighed and headed in the same direction.
"Nick!" The ghost shouted. "How are you? Head still hanging in there?"
"Welcome, Patrick," Sir Nicolas replied stiffly.
In that moment, Sir Patrick spotted Harry and his friends. "Live 'uns!" He said and gave a big, fake jump of astonishment and dropped his head.
"Very amusing," said Sir Nicolas darkly.
"Don't mind Nick!" shouted Sir Patrick's head. "Still upset we won't let him join the Hunt! But I mean to say — look at the fellow —"
"Well, so far I've seen nothing he couldn't do," Harry said. "And, I mean, I've heard about the things that require a severed head, but surely he could simply not participate? Why does everyone have to juggle?"
"But we mean to provide amusement for our crowd!"
"He could simply provide a different kind of amusement," Su joined in to help Harry out. "I mean, the case of his mangled execution is pretty interesting in itself..."
Sir Patrick guffawed. "I know he put you up to this," he said, "and there's nothing doing. His personality just won't suit!"
Harry privately agreed. He really did not see Sir Nicolas being happy among these people.
Sir Patrick called the rest of his Hunt, and the ghosts started to play hockey with their heads.
"You've done your duty," Mr. Vergilius said, appearing behind Harry, "now go before you freeze to death."
They gratefully obeyed, and hurried to the Great Hall to at least get the desserts.
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Alduin looked at the transcendentals gathered in his drawing room and gave a small sigh.
"I take it you have news?" Muhammad said.
"You could say that, yes." He paused, but there was no point in postponing it, really, and so he took a deep breath and said: "I found another Horcrux of Riddle."
"What?" Muhammad said, at the same time as Sarabeth asked "How?" and Mrs. Gerard "Are you sure?"
Alduin smiled a little, in spite of himself. "To answer your questions...well, it all started when I received a warning that there was a diary of Riddle's currently at Hogwarts, and that it contained instructions to open the Chamber of Secrets, and could in fact make someone do so. I instructed Harry to find it and bring it to me, expecting to find compulsion charms on it. What I found instead was extremely strong dark magic. The diary could communicate, and clearly not only to the purpose of the Chamber. It was capable of showing Riddle's memories, again, not only those necessary for opening it. There was really only one conclusion to reach, but to be sure, I tried destroying it by various means except those that are known to harm horcruxes. It resisted. It can't be burned by ordinary fire, can't be vanished, can't even be torn to pieces."
"So you have not destroyed it, then?" Sarabeth asked.
"Of course he didn't," Mrs. Gerard said before he could offer anything. "If it had Riddle's memories in it...it's a valuable resource."
"Also dangerous," Sarabeth pointed out.
"Yes," Alduin agreed, "that's why I called you here. I want your advice on what to do next. I told the diary I was Lucius Malfoy, grandson of Abraxas, and it showed me the memory of Riddle boasting to Abraxas about blaming Hagrid for the opening of the Chamber, or rather for the resulting death. Then I asked it for some dating advice, purely to see how wide a scope it had. The answer is, a wide one. Do you have any ideas how to get as many useful things as we can out of it?"
Mrs. Gerard frowned. "Pretending to be a Malfoy was a good strategy," she said. "Saying you want to see as much as you can of the grandfather you never met could get you a lot. Then, of course, you need to pretend to wish to open the chamber, and have him show you how he did it..."
"Alduin shouldn't do it alone," Muhammad interceded. "We should all take turns with the diary. Hopefully we can pretend to be Lucius successfully enough that it won't be able to tell, and it will prevent the danger of possession."
"Do you think we could clear Hagrid's name?" Sarabeth asked.
"If they could expel him on the ridiculous evidence they had then, I'm not sure they'd listen to anything now," Mrs. Gerard commented drily.
"I've always wondered if Riddle didn't Imperius them, actually," Alduin said. "It was so absurd...But, anyway, we can't give them the diary as evidence. We can only try based on the memories we'd provide, but then the suspicion about where we got them...I don't know. Seems too risky."
Sarabeth sighed. "You're probably right," she said, "but it's frustrating."
"Is there any reason to wait," Muhammad asked, "or can we start with the memory extraction?"
Alduin conceded that there wasn't, and they headed to the laboratory.
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The first Quidditch match of the season arrived, and Harry would be playing against Draco. He wasn't too happy about it. He liked Draco and considered him his friend and was glad he got the place on the team, but he also knew he was the better flyer and had had more practice and would likely catch the Snitch. And Draco didn't like being second.
Harry really hoped this wouldn't ruin their friendship.
As soon as they got on the brooms, however, he had different worries. The moment Madam Hooch released the balls, a Bludger flew right at him, so he dodged it and saw George give it a swat in the direction of Adrian Pucey...only for the ball to change direction and head straight at him again!
After the same happened several times over, Fred gave up and asked Oliver for a time out. The team gathered on the ground.
"What's going on?" Oliver asked. "We're losing. Fred, George, where were you when that Bludger stopped Angelina scoring?"
"We were twenty feet above her, stopping the other Bludger from murdering Harry, Oliver," George replied angrily. "Someone's fixed it — it won't leave Harry alone. It hasn't gone for anyone else all game. The Slytherins must have done something to it."
Harry rolled his eyes at this automatic accusation, though here, he supposed, it at least made some kind of sense.
"But the Bludgers have been locked in Madam Hooch's office since our last practice, and there was nothing wrong with them then…" Oliver said uncertainly.
"Listen," Harry said, "with you two flying around me all the time the only way I'm going to catch the Snitch is if it flies up my sleeve. One of you at least needs to go back to the rest of the team, and I will try to handle the rogue one with just the other one."
The twins frowned. "Fine, then," Fred said. "I'll leave you in George's care, but be careful, will you?"
Harry did his best. He flew around the pitch in absurd moves that reminded him of the French team he saw in the summer, making use of his better manoeuvrability compared to the Bludger. It was, however, rather difficult for him to spot the Snitch in such circumstances, and when he did, he froze in mid-air. It was about five metres away from Draco.
It turned out freezing in mid-air wasn't a very smart thing to do when you had a rogue Bludger going after you, and right as Draco noticed the Snitch and reached for it, the crazy ball smacked into Harry's arm and he felt it break.
Agonizing pain shot through him, and he lost control of his broom, spiralling to the ground as Madam Hooch announced Slytherin victory. It was the last thing he heard before he reached the ground and fainted.
When his consciousness returned, he saw Lockhart above him and groaned.
"He's clearly in terrible pain," the teacher said to the crowd pressing around them. "Not to worry, Harry. I'm about to fix your arm."
"No!" said Harry. "I'll keep it like this, thanks…"
He tried to sit, but he could barely see through the pain. Lockhart hadn't been wrong about that at least. And to make matters worse, he heard a familiar clicking noise.
"I don't want a photo of this, Colin," he said loudly.
"Lie back, Harry," said Lockhart. "It's a simple charm I've used countless times —"
"Why can't I just go to the hospital wing?" Harry asked, doing his best not to faint again.
"Yes," Neville, who was right next to him, tried, "he really should..."
"Stand back," Lockhart said, ignoring Neville, and rolled up his sleeves.
"No — don't —" said Harry, but it was too late – Lockhart directed his wand at his arm and...
Harry felt as if his arm was being deflated, and then he stopped feeling it at all. He heard horrified gasps around him.
"Ah," said Lockhart. "Yes. Well, that can sometimes happen. But the point is, the bones are no longer broken. That's the thing to bear in mind. So, Harry, just toddle up to the hospital wing — ah, Mr. Longbottom, Mr. Weasley, would you escort him? — and Madam Pomfrey will be able to — er — tidy you up a bit."
Neville helped Harry up, supporting him by his good arm, and Harry finally dared to look at the one Lockhart had interfered with.
He couldn't move it. No wonder, too, when there were no bones left in it...