"ɪᴛ ɪꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏᴅʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛꜱ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴘɪʀɪᴛ."
― ᴊ.ʀ.ʀ. ᴛᴏʟᴋɪᴇɴ
Chapter Eight: Tactics and Blunders
"Evening, Mafalda."
Sirius Black stood in the doorway of 12 Grimmauld Place with a wry, almost sullen expression. With a sort of shrug, he lifted his wrist to his face.
"You're a half-hour early," he announced.
"I thought you could use the company," said Mafalda.
"I could." The red-lacquer door opened a little wider, and Mafalda stepped through into the dimly lit hallway.
She followed him silently into the drawing room, much cleaner than it had been during the summer, but somehow, also vastly more depressing.
"So, you've been here by yourself all this time?" asked Mafalda as she settled into an armchair, and then regretted her words.
"Yes," said Sirius tightly, poking the fire. "Hogwarts is one thing —but older wizards and witches will recognise me."
"But if we caught Pettigrew and proved you innocent—"
The scowl in Sirius's voice was audible; sparks flew as he jabbed at one of the logs. "Don't count on it."
Aren't I supposed to be the pessimist? Mafalda settled deeper into her chair, watching Sirius restlessly stoke the fire. She took note of the cane leaned against the armchair, got up and admired the curiosities behind the glass cabinets, and even investigated the ornate writing desk. All the while, she felt Sirius's almost-bored gaze following her as she puttered around the room, realising that she was actually sort of fidgeting.
As long as he doesn't ask me about my uncles. That's all everyone seems to know about me. All they care about. Me, I'm just a colossal waste of—
"It must have been hard."
"Sorry?" Mafalda whirled around and nearly dropped the carved elephant she'd just picked up.
"Crouch."
"I still dream about it, to be honest."
Sirius looked away, staring into the orange-red-gold tumult of the fireplace. Strangely, or perhaps not so strangely, he looked at home here, another eccentric occupant worn down by ennui and dust.
I can see why people think he killed Peter Pettigrew, thought Mafalda. Sometimes, she wasn't so sure herself. Perhaps she wouldn't be until she met the Death Eater face-to-face.
"Umm… have you ever run into Inferi before? Or, you know, someone who…"
Sirius grimaced. Perhaps even winced.
There you go again, Mafalda, putting your foot in it.
"I just thought, since you were in the Order during the war," said Mafalda quickly, hoping to paper over her gaffe with an explanation.
"Not personally," said Sirius tightly, something still pained about his eyes, and then, to her relief, the doorbell rang.
Mafalda allowed herself a shaky sigh of relief as Sirius made his way around the clutter and out of the drawing room.
Well, at least another person should clear the air. Start fresh with something less depressing.
The sound of the umbrella stand crashing to the floor instantly identified the visitor. Tonks's voice, seemingly incapable of subtlety, filled the darkness of 12 Grimmauld Place with a bubblegum cheeriness that clearly none of its past inhabitants had possessed. Even Walburga's portrait was stunned speechless.
Then came Sirius's offbeat footsteps, the cane setting up a syncopated rhythm on the carpeted floor, getting louder and louder. The door of the drawing room was thrown open to reveal Tonks — today, her hair was its usual hot-pink, spiky halo — still wearing her scarlet Auror uniform.
But the cheeriness was gone. Grimness did not suit Tonks, especially not in her current snub-nosed, pixie-esque guise.
"Did you hear?"
Sirius and Mafalda shared a confused look, then turned back to Tonks.
"None of you read the Prophet?"
"What's the point?"
"It's not worth the paper it's printed on!"
Tonks leaned against the piano, sighing. "Well, you really should start. For one, you missed the Inferi attack at Hogwarts."
"Inferi?" Sirius's eyes widened, his face growing pale.
Not, not pale, green. He seemed as if he didn't want to ask the obvious question, watching Tonks with abject horror.
"No, no, no." Tonks waved her hands nervously, in a poor imitation of a calming gesture. "No one's hurt; don't worry about that. And I misspoke. It wasn't at Hogwarts. Hogsmeade. Not quite the same. Inferi wouldn't get into Hogwarts."
"Well, they came close enough!" said Sirius. His face had gone white and red all at the same time, and so had his hand, clutched around the cane.
Hogsmeade. Mafalda's head spun. Couldn't be.
"Was… was it at the fifth-year Ancient Runes outing?"
Tonks glanced nervously at Sirius. "Y-Yeah. It was."
As she feared, the implication did not escape Sirius. "Ruby's in Ancient Runes," he said slowly, running a hand through his dark hair. It was longer and more unkempt than Mafalda remembered. Back came that dangerous, livid look — the very same as Bellatrix's.
"Yes, she is." Tonks's voice seemed to be coming from very far away. "And yes. They probably were for her. She's in more danger than we think. They both are."
"Hang on!" snapped Sirius, advancing with surprising speed. "Weren't you two supposed to be supervising? I'd've gone myself if I'd known you two would cock it up!"
Mafalda, despite herself, lurched backwards from fright, and she was sure Sirius would have continued the tirade had the doorbell not rung once more.
The jarring sound seemed to snap all three of them back into reality, Sirius straightening up and regaining his composure, Tonks's hair ceasing to turn black from the root, and Mafalda recovering a measure of dignity.
"I'd better get it," said Sirius, the edges of his voice sounding jagged, and made his way out of the room.
Tonks slumped against the piano, her shoulders sagging in relief.
"He's just as scary as Mum!" she burst out.
Mafalda laughed nervously. "Remind me not to get your mum angry, then."
"You'd better not." Tonks cast her eyes towards the heavens, the weary expression an odd contrast with her colourful appearance. "All I need, today."
Mafalda knew the feeling. Seems like everyone does, these days.
"Crouch case going that badly?"
"Yeah." Tonks dragged a finger through the fine dust settling on the shiny, black piano lid. "Just won't let me do my job. Umbridge, or should I say, Aunt Cissy, won't be satisfied until the Auror Office reports that Barty Crouch Senior dismembered himself!" Her voice rose to a shattering crescendo.
Not like her, thought Mafalda. What with being in Houses that took a strong disinterest in each other, and being two years apart, they hadn't crossed paths at Hogwarts. But Tonks had been popular, and though Mafalda recalled her being in trouble all the time, she'd never seen her angry.
Nor had she ever heard Tonks refer to Narcissa Malfoy, even though she'd become a prime topic of conversation amongst the Order recently, as 'Aunt Cissy.'
Something's up.
"Did Narcissa threaten you personally?" asked Mafalda.
Unlike Sirius, Tonks wasn't offended by the prying. "Something like that. I can't believe her and Mum are sisters. I mean—"
The door to the drawing room flew up, and a small mob of people piled in. Mad-Eye Moody glanced about warily, then nodded at his protégè — Mafalda went to find somewhere else to sit, not wanting to find herself on the end of an impromptu interrogation. Sirius and Andromeda seemed to be discussing something in hushed tones, so sitting by them was safe, for the meantime.
"All right!" shouted Mad-Eye Moody, and the chatter in the room quieted instantly. His electric blue eye whizzed around and snapped towards the direction of Mundungus Fletcher, who appeared to be in the process of sneaking a gold snuffbox off a table and into his pockets. 'Dung' let out something between a squeak and a yelp, dropping the snuffbox and its contents on the floor. Hestia Jones snorted inelegantly and then coughed in an attempt to cover it up.
"All right," Mad-Eye repeated, sneering slightly. "You know how these meetings go. Problems first. Andromeda?"
Everyone turned to face Andromeda, who had crossed her arms, expression as grim as her daughter's.
"Well, first of all, I think it's important that we discuss the threat that replaced the Dementors. The Inferi in Hogsmeade."
Chatter again rose in the room.
"If I understand the chain of command correctly, Alastor," said Elphias Doge in a wheezy tone, "it's Bill Weasley who should investigate and report back before we do anything at all."
"The chain of command didn't involve something like this," Sirius insisted, leaning forward eagerly. "It's gone too far for that. No, we've got to figure out where these Inferi are coming from, and stop them from getting anywhere near Hogwarts."
"Sirius, with the greatest respect, you are letting sentimentality run away with you!"
Mafalda winced but didn't dare to even look back at the person Sirius was currently glowering at.
"So, trying to thwart Voldemort is sentiment, now!" He sat back in his chair, lips pressed tightly together. But he didn't look angry now, except for the hand white-knuckling the cane. No, his expression was far more dangerous. Tense. Contemplative.
"If Bill doesn't report back within the week, we'll consider our options," said Andromeda smoothly. "Next item. Narcissa Malfoy. Need I say more?"
Mad-Eye exhaled slowly. "Seeing as we tend to spend half of every meeting arguing about her, why bother? Well then? Anything to add that might actually get us somewhere?"
Kingsley Shacklebolt, who was sitting beside Doge, cleared his throat. "Only that she's trying her best to wrap up the investigation. For appearances' sake, she can't stop us from looking into it, and besides, it's clear as day how Crouch met his end. But she's determined to prevent that from becoming the official story."
"Why?" asked Hestia. "Don't they want people to be afraid?"
"The Inferi aren't like the Dementors," said Sirius suddenly, still looking contemplative, as if he were working out his thoughts as he spoke. "They're not here to cause fear. They won't roam the streets. They're here to do a job."
"And how can we be sure?" asked Emmeline Vance, drawing her shawl across her shoulders to ward off the draft. "Two incidents hardly make a pattern."
"First Crouch Senior, then Ruby Potter?" This time, Andromeda spoke. "No, I agree with Sirius, Emmeline. Voldemort wants everyone to know what will happen to people who don't fall in line. To us, to the Order, it's a warning." Her voice grew sharper and took on a mocking tone. "I only wonder what Narcissa has planned, now that she finally has the reins."
"And aren't you sick of being a step behind?" Sirius muttered.
"Only those confirmed to be loyal are allowed to guard Umbridge and Narcissa," said Andromeda. "I'm afraid Nymphadora wouldn't qualify, and trying might only raise questions."
Mafalda stifled a laugh at Tonks's look of distress at her mother's use of her given name.
"I do know most of us did not sign up for politics," said Kingsley, his voice warm, calm, and perfectly level. "We signed up to fight, and we don't have any spies; no one who could gather intelligence. Mafalda was promising because of Narcissa's interest in recruiting her, but discovering Crouch's body will have compromised her trust in you."
"I'll be out of leave soon." Mafalda found that her voice sounded feebler than expected, but perhaps that was just the effect of tens of drawn, tired faces peering at her. "I could just go back to work next Monday like nothing's happened. Pretend to help her cover up the Crouch case. Say I've had a change of heart."
Tonks shook her head vehemently, and Mafalda felt a spike of indignation. Why doesn't anyone think I can handle it? Just because I'm not an Auror—
"Sirius!" She turned towards him. Surely he had to share her frustration. "You think it's worth it, don't you?"
"It might be," he said slowly, not looking at her. "It might be the only chance we have to get ahead. It might be riskier than we think. Narcissa might not trust you. Either way, you're sure to be questioned." Now, he did look at Mafalda, expression fierce. "Can you handle it?"
"It's not about handling, Sirius," said Doge creakily. "Back in the day, all of the Order were at least trained in basic Occlumency."
"So? You think Voldemort's going to show up to the Ministry?" asked Mafalda.
"Perhaps not," said Doge, looking offended. "But Narcissa will likely submit you to Veritaserum."
"There's an antidote."
"Rare, and expensive to supply you with enough to be safe. Our Potions Master is otherwise occupied. He also happens to be the only Legilimens who could train you in protecting your mind."
"So?" asked Mafalda, burning with irritation. "I can't sit around and do nothing!"
Sirius's expression had grown pinched.
Regardless, she continued. "I signed up for the same thing everyone else did! I signed up to take risks!"
I signed up to put my life on the line.
"Look," said Andromeda. "Narcissa's perfect; she's been perfect all her life. And if you want to play her at her own game, you have to be perfect too, Mafalda."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning, we're all going to have to contribute."
Mad-Eye's sharp gaze focused on Andromeda. Unflinchingly, she held it.
"So you approve," he said gruffly.
"I don't like it," said Andromeda. "But Mafalda's still the best candidate, despite…" Here, she gave Mafalda a sympathetic look. "We have to do something drastic unless we want to keep losing."
"Have to risk something to gain it," Mad-Eye agreed. "Kingsley? You've been quiet."
As if woken from a reverie, Kingsley looked up with a pensive expression. "I do have a concern. I'm not sure she can accomplish much in the, er, Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects. If I can convince Scrimgeour to promote her to the Auror Office, she'd have far more clearance, more access. Ideally, we'd want her as close to Narcissa as possible, part of her personal guard." He nodded encouragingly at Mafalda. "I'll see what I can do."
That week, Inferi were all anyone could talk about at Hogwarts. The fact that Anthony had been the one to bring it up didn't help matters — and if anything, Ruby trying to back him up hurt his credibility.
"You don't think I'm lying, do you?" asked Ruby, for probably the ninth time, leaning over her desk to whisper in the middle of Divination. They were supposed to be writing dream interpretations, but both Harry and Ron had given up a full fifteen minutes ago.
"I believe you, how many times do I have to say it!"
Clearly, he'd been too loud, because Professor Trelawney came wafting over in her diaphanous, kaftan-like robes, much to Harry's chagrin. He quickly pretended to be engaged in copying out an explanation from The Dream Oracle.
Ruby straightened up, but didn't bother with subterfuge; Trelawney gave her a displeased look over Harry's head, which he suspected had something to do with Ruby abandoning their private lessons last year.
To Harry's great relief, Lavender waved the professor to come look at a breakthrough she'd apparently made. But his relief was short-lived because Ruby was leaning over him and Ron again.
"But where'd they come from?" asked Ruby, her eyes wide and glassy. "That's what I don't understand. They don't just go walking into a shop like that, do they? Do you think someone brought them there?"
Her attention, surprisingly, turned to Ron, who looked bewildered.
"Hey, wouldn't Bill know?"
"Yeah, think so," said Ron slowly, as if unnerved by her unblinking gaze. "Not that he seems to want to tell anyone anything these days," he added in a bitter tone.
"Couldn't we—"
All of a sudden, Professor Trelawney swooped down and snapped her long, spindly fingers under Harry's nose.
"Let me see the start you've made on your dream diary, please."
"Er…"
Harry handed her the almost-blank journal, with half-hearted explanations scribbled in the margins. Ron gave him a sympathetic look before Trelawney began to read out his dreams in a loud, clear voice, all of which foretold a rapidly approaching and gruesome death. He was glad he'd made most of them up. It might have been funny if Harry had been in a better mood.
By the time they made their way out of the class, down the silver ladder, and safely into the hallway, laden with more homework (dream journaling and interpretation for the next two days), the afternoon was cold and dark.
"You know what would be really good," started Ruby. "If we could sneak back into Hogsmeade somehow. Take a look around. There has to be something everyone's missing."
Ron sucked in a breath. "Are you mental? Go back to look for Inferi! Maybe you really didn't see them!"
Harry cringed inwardly, but it was too late.
"What's that supposed to mean?" spat Ruby.
Her whole face was contorted in a sneer, and there was a frantic edge in her voice that Harry really didn't like. Ron backed away, as if afraid she was actually going to spit fire.
"Sorry," said Ron. "But it's a bad idea." He glanced sideways at Harry as if to say, here, back me up.
Harry knew better than to do that with Ruby in this sort of state; he lowered his voice. "We should talk to Sirius before we do anything."
Ruby seemed to be considering her options. "Fine." She turned on her heel and stormed off in the direction of the Slytherin Dungeon.
Exchanging a look of confusion with Harry, Ron exhaled slowly, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Blimey, what's gotten into her?"
"She's probably just a bit freaked out after what happened." I just hope she doesn't do anything drastic. She's not thinking straight.
"Sirius will know what to do." Harry sounded much more confident than he felt. "Come on, let's go to dinner."
"Yeah," said Ron, a little feebly.
The Great Hall, sadly, was not a respite. Between Umbridge's visit and the Inferi, there was much to talk about. On top of that, Harry had the Quidditch game this weekend to worry about (or, at least, Angelina was worrying him about it). Hermione had her head stuck in a copy of the Daily Prophet, as usual, Anthony trailing her to the table.
To his left, Harry saw Ron sigh deeply and mutter something under his breath.
"All right if I sit?" asked Anthony eagerly, his eyes sparkling with the same over-brightness that Ruby's had earlier.
"As long as there's not a petition to sign," Ron groused.
"Ron!" Hermione cried, finally tearing her attention away from the newspaper.
All of a sudden, Ruby stormed into the Great Hall, catching Anthony's attention, and stomped over to the Slytherin table. Harry almost groaned out loud when he saw Blaise Zabini look over with great interest.
"She's really lost it," said Ron, shaking his head. "Do you reckon it's her, you know, time of—"
Hermione looked up from the newspaper again and gave Ron a look that could have melted steel.
"Well, clearly she's off her rocker if she'd suggest something like going back to where there were supposedly Inferi. I mean, you couldn't pay me—"
It was Anthony's turn to glower. "What do you mean, supposedly?" he asked in an icy tone that Harry had never heard from him before. "You don't believe us?"
"Either you didn't see them, or you've got a death wish. Anyway, the Aurors are looking into it already, what're we going to do that they can't?"
"For one," said Hermione, from behind her newspaper, "they've finished the investigation." Looking almost as severe as Professor McGonagall on a bad day, she folded up the newspaper and handed it to Ron.
Harry leaned forward, peering over his shoulder.
INFERI SIGHTING AT HOGSMEADE PROVEN TO BE HOAX
Several Hogwarts students claimed to have encountered Inferi at a junk shop at Hogsmeade 31st of October; an Auror investigation proved this sighting to be a bad Halloween prank. Several charmed skeletons were found at the back of the shop, Stitches and Draughts, matching the eyewitness descriptions. With tensions high and the threat of the Dementors in very recent memory, the Auror Task Force explained it is an easy but unfortunate mistake. Graciously, the Minister herself—
"See!" said Ron, flushing with excitement. "I knew it!"
Anthony snatched the newspaper out of Ron's hands, upsetting a tureen of cream of mushroom soup. His face grew redder and redder as he scanned the article, eyes narrowing.
Hermione exchanged a worried look at Harry.
It did seem a little… convenient, thought Harry, as he slowly watched the Prophet crumple around Anthony's grip.
"You seriously believe this rubbish over me?" asked Anthony in that same icy tone. "Come on, we all know the Prophet isn't worth the paper it's printed on."
"Can't disagree with that," Ron muttered.
"Hermione?" asked Harry, hoping Anthony would listen to her if not to them.
Hermione, who still looked grim, nodded, and Harry thought he could almost see the gears whirring in her brain.
"Well, we know the Prophet isn't trustworthy, so even if the Aurors did find something, they could hide it. But why would they want to do that?"
Now, Anthony looked subdued. "I don't know," he said, scratching the wooden table with a fingernail. The prefect badge pinned to his robes glinted in the dim light, and Harry noticed that the skin under his eyes was swollen and purple. "I have a hunch."
"We can't just go running off to Hogsmeade in the dead of night for a hunch!" snapped Ron. "Sorry, but just because everyone around here's gone mental doesn't mean I have to as well!"
Anthony stood up in a rush, incandescent with rage and more frazzled than ever, and stormed off.
The conversation had left a bad taste in Harry's mouth; and quite literally ruined his appetite. The trio tried to turn their attention to dinner, pushing food around on their plates aimlessly.
Finally, Hermione broke the silence.
"I don't think it's a hoax," she said, slowly and deliberately. "Remember when Anthony was right about Fluffy and Quirrrell, and we all brushed him off?"
"A broken clock is right twice a day, so what?" said Ron irritably, but he seemed to be considering it. "Look, if they did see Inferi, that's all the more reason not to go poking around Hogsmeade in the cold, dark night."
They definitely did see Inferi, thought Harry. Ruby had seen them — she'd fought them before. He believed her. And Anthony. It was just—
If he went along with it, wouldn't that just spur her on to do something dangerous? What if there was a trap waiting to be sprung at Stitches and Draughts?
Harry jolted awake.
For apparently no reason. The only sounds in the dormitory were soft breathing and Ron's snoring. The air trapped behind his bed curtains was dark, soothing, and quiet.
Sighing, he turned over and tried to go back to sleep.
"Harry!" someone whispered, and he jolted.
The last time someone woke him up like this—
"It's just me."
The blue-white of wandlight seared painfully into Harry's eyes; Ruby was standing at the foot of his bed, her school robes thrown over top of her pyjamas.
"What are you doing?" Harry whispered back, prickling with irritation. "How'd you even get in here?"
"I can be very persuasive when I want to be," she said, edging closer. And then: "Could I borrow the Invisibility Cloak?"
I can't believe her!
"You are not sneaking into Hogsmeade!" said Harry, reeling with disbelief as a hand reached out to the nightstand for his glasses.
"Well," said Ruby, a look of stubborn determination fixed on her face, "you can't say I didn't ask. Accio Invisibility *Cloak!"
Before Harry could say or do anything about it, the Cloak loosed itself from his trunk and zoomed into Ruby's outstretched hand.
"Well, thanks," she said, with a wry smile, beginning to fling it about her shoulders and disappear into the dark.
She can't do that! This is crazy!
It's crazy, and worse yet, she's roping me into her craziness, because I've got to go, because if I don't and something bad happens—
He didn't bother finishing that thought.
Harry groaned, shoved the quilt off, and swung his feet down to the rug-covered floor.
"Fine," he growled. "Just let me get some shoes on."
Ruby's head emerged, tousled and grinning.
"I knew you'd come around! See, I can be persuasive when I—"
"Don't get ahead of yourself," said Harry, shaking a shoe threateningly in her general direction. There was no use in trying to stop her. And part of him was curious.
He tugged the other end of the Cloak around his own shoulders, and they began to shuffle out of the dormitory as quietly as they could. Once they were safely down the stairs, through the common room, and past the portrait hole, Harry murmured:
"And how are we going to get to Hogsmeade? Just walk out the front door?"
"No, I thought of that already," said Ruby, in the same smug tone she'd had earlier. "Lupin told me about a secret passage. It's by the Defence classroom."
"Oh, great."
They trudged down the tower stairs silently, trying not to draw attention. There was a terrifying moment when Harry sneezed just as the Fat Friar was floating past, but the ghost only looked around in confusion before floating right through them.
When they reached it, the familiar corridor seemed dark and foreboding, the one-eyed witch on her plinth macabre rather than eccentric.
"This is it," Ruby whispered. Harry thought he'd felt her shiver.
Then she tapped her wand to the statue, and said, "Dissendium."
Instantly, the statue's hump slid open with a loud creak to reveal a passage barely wide enough for a fairly small person.
Harry stared at it, dumbfounded. He had a sudden reminder of watching news reports about caving accidents.
"Er, how old was Lupin when he used this? Twelve?"
"Oh, shut up, you can still fit."
Let's just get this over with, then. Harry let the Cloak drop, exposing them to whoever came into the hallway. Moving over to the statue, he whispered, "Lumos."
Squinting down at the hole, he realised he couldn't see very far. Harry gave his wand an experimental flick, and the ball of light at the tip of his wand bubbled off and floated down the hole.
It looked like there was a narrow opening, but it might open up. When he looked back out into the corridor, Ruby's eyebrows were drawn tight, and she was fiddling with her hair.
"Something wrong down there?" she asked.
"No," said Harry, hoisting himself up and over the hole. "Bring the Cloak."
The stone slide wasn't quite narrow enough to be dangerous, to Harry's relief, and it did open up into a slightly wider passageway tall enough to stand in and made of damp, packed earth. It took a sharp fork to the left, and Harry couldn't see much further beyond it.
It didn't look very promising.
"Is this like what Lupin said?" asked Harry, turned as Ruby appeared behind him.
"Yeah," she said, looking around. "He said it takes a while to get there."
A while really felt like a while, Harry realised, as they made their way through the twisting passageway single file. He felt his way along the wet, clammy walls, nose wrinkling at the musty smell. The passage seemed to be swallowing them, muffling the sound of their footsteps. Once, something Harry stepped on felt a lot like a bone. What was dying down here?
Thankfully, it was wide enough to turn around, so he never quite felt trapped, but it was certainly enough for him to feel claustrophobic.
How long had they been down here? Not mere minutes, surely. It had to be approaching an hour. Harry's lungs longed for fresh air; his feet were icy, his face too warm, and the wandlight floating in from of them was hurting his eyes.
Suddenly, the passage began to rise, and Harry felt like crying with relief. He sped up, his resolve renewed. Behind him, Ruby was walking faster, too.
"There's supposed to be some steps—"
They rose, suddenly, out of the earth, like the side of a great stone ziggurat, hundreds of stone steps stretching too far to see the top. How had they gotten this far underground? Had the passageway been slowly sloping down all this time?
"Come on," said Ruby, hurrying past him and up the stairs.
Harry followed, watching his feet. There was no railing on the side, only a sheer drop into the darkness below.
He swallowed tensely and tried not to think about it.
Then, light surrounded him — not the harsh light of their wands, but the warm golden glow of candlelight — along with air that wasn't stale, but pleasantly sugar-scented. Harry squinted up at the square of light; Ruby had already wriggled through it, the shadow of her foot disappearing. He hauled himself up, and flopped down on the floor, staring up at the low wooden ceiling. Another set of stairs led up into what Harry assumed was the shop above.
"Caught your breath?" asked Ruby.
"Yeah, let's go."
Above the stairs, they found themselves in a darkened shop. The streetlamps shone through the windows, illuminating the sweets-laden shelves.
Honeydukes, Harry realised. It was a place the older students discussed with great longing and reverence, since the Dementors, the sealing, and the ban on Hogsmeade weekends.
There was no point in standing around gawking. Harry and Ruby tugged the cloak back over themselves and made their way out of Honeydukes.
"So where's this Stitches and Draughts?" asked Harry. Something about being out here at night made his skin crawl — the streets seemed too quiet, although he supposed it was midnight and everyone was supposed to be asleep.
"It's just past that old creepy place, the Sign of the Rooks," Ruby whispered.
This just gets better and better. Harry could only wonder what misfortune would befall them next.
The rooks were still awake, though. Harry couldn't remember whether or not they were supposed to be nocturnal animals, but they definitely sent a chill down his spine. They cawed loudly, staring with their black, beady eyes as if they could see through the Cloak.
Harry and Ruby hurried on, the buildings around them growing more and more derelict until they reached it, a small crooked wooden shop with a sloppily painted sign.
"Think it's locked?" asked Ruby.
Harry tried the door. It swung open, almost eagerly, to reveal a pitch-black void. I hope I don't regret this more than I already do, he thought as he stepped inside.
The floorboards creaked under their feet as they ventured further into the shop, their way lit only by the faint glow of crystals lining the walls. Harry couldn't help but feel a strange sense of impending doom as they navigated past the crowded displays, filled with trays of half-price cursed jewellery and secondhand knucklebone sets engraved with runes.
What if they really did run into more Inferi? What if—
Harry stopped short, a large, black scorch mark marring the ancient rug at his feet.
The best way to destroy Inferi is fire.
Ruby had crouched down to examine the burn, her jaw set with that same determination as before. What had it been like to run into those things? It must have been harrowing… But still…
"What are we looking for, exactly?" asked Harry uneasily.
"There has to be something here," said Ruby, and Harry wasn't sure she was speaking to him. She wasn't looking at him, at least. All of a sudden, she slammed her palms on the rug angrily, sending up a plume of dust. "I don't get it! There has to!"
Noticing the panic in her voice, Harry squatted down beside her, resting a hand on her shoulder. Ruby turned towards him with a questioning glance.
"Maybe whoever was controlling them was in the back of the shop. It's so dark in here."
"You think Voldemort was in the back of the shop?" asked Ruby scornfully.
"No," said Harry through gritted teeth. "Obviously not. But it could have been anyone else."
"Well, maybe they dropped something identifying."
It's not like we'd find an embroidered handkerchief amongst all this other junk, thought Harry ruefully.
"Do you think—"
"Shh!" hissed Harry.
He'd heard something; the slow, low groan of the floorboards, or perhaps it was just the wind. Nevertheless, he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. His heart had started up an uneasy rhythm.
Creak. Again.
Ruby cocked her head, listening too, then straightening up. Something sparkling on the rug caught Harry's eye, and he reached for it, his fingers closing around something cold, with points like a child's drawing of the sun, his thumb rubbing against soft satin.
The creak sounded out once more. It was much closer. And definitely a footstep this time.
Harry's stomach twisted. He jumped up and swung around to stand back-to-back with Ruby, wands drawn.
"Hey!" he called out, trying to sound braver than he felt. "Who's there?"
There was no answer. His fingers grew clammy around his wand, Ruby's shallow breathing in his ears as her wandlight blinked out, leaving them in almost complete darkness.
Should they make a run for it? Throw the Cloak over themselves and escape?
No, they'd be followed, they'd be heard. Better to stand and fight.
Harry squared his shoulders and glowered into the darkness.
"On my mark," he said, struggling to master his own breathing.
"Three. Two. One."
"Stupefy!"
Stitches and Draughts was lit by scarlet light — but neither spell met its mark. A candelabra sparked to life, and a figure stepped out into the light.
A fanged earring glimmered; dragon-hide boots clicked against the floorboards.
Harry nearly dropped his wand in shock and relief.
"Bill?"
"That's Professor Weasley to you," said Bill, but he looked more amused than anything, his eyes flicking between the twins as he tucked his wand back in its holster. "You two are just lucky it isn't Snape who caught you."
Ruby turned around to stare, and Harry thought she still looked a little suspicious.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, letting her wand arm drop to her side.
The chandelier above them flared with light, and Bill pulled up an old wooden chair. He raised an eyebrow in an expression that did make him look very much like a teacher. Bill looked strangely at ease in the dark, shadowed shop, but his eyes flicked around quickly ever so often as if to catalogue any possible threats lurking behind the shelves. He had an air of quiet, confident authority that Harry had never seen in Defence class. Was the nervousness all an act, then?
"No, no, you two go first," he said, laughing a little.
Harry and Ruby exchanged a look. Harry shook his head, as if to say Your little escapade, you deal with answering for it for once!
She cleared her throat and turned towards an expectant-looking Bill.
"Since the Ministry and the Prophet clearly can't tell the truth about the Inferi that attacked us, we decided we'd take a look for ourselves."
"All right, so just let me get this straight," said Bill, leaning forward, still in that lilting tone. "You two snuck out of bed and into Hogsmeade in the middle of the night to go into a dark, enclosed area with only one exit, where you knew you'd seen Inferi before? I wonder why the Sorting Hat didn't put you in Ravenclaw."
Ruby looked anything but chastised, but she was wise enough not to push it. "We just thought there might be a clue or something to prove that someone brought them here."
The spiky metal thing pressed into Harry's palm, but something told him not to mention it right now. With his luck, Bill would confiscate it, and there'd be nothing to show for tonight.
Finally, Bill shut his eyes and sighed. "Look," he said it. "I get it. I honestly do. I understand you're frustrated, but this isn't the way to deal with it. The Order's already been looking into the Inferi for weeks. You could have just come to me first and asked."
Harry only barely suppressed a snort. "Why would we, Professor, when you basically told Hermione to shut up when she asked about the Inferi in Defence? Even Ron's avoiding you!"
He knew he was dancing very close to the line here. Ruby even shot him a warning glare.
"Oh, come on, Harry, you're smarter than that, despite this." Bill's expression thinned, went serious. "First rule, you never want to alert anyone when you're investigating something. Don't you think Draco Malfoy is just itching for me to open my mouth so he can go running back to his mother and have her replace me with someone who reports back on your and Dumbledore's every move?"
"But—"
"Master your temper. Temper your fear. Be patient. You two can't just go running around like headless chickens."
Harry felt a new wave of irritation bubble up, and he stuffed the strange object into his pocket.
"I understand what drove you to this, trust me," said Bill. "I haven't been able to get the Inferi off my mind, either. The whole school hasn't. But this was reckless, not brave." He looked at them sternly, quiet and evaluative. "Pull something like this again, and as much as you dislike this lecture, I promise you'll dislike detention even more."
Harry swallowed hard as he watched wax drip off the candles and onto the filthy table. Yes, it was stupid — reckless — but how were they to know anyone was bothering to look into it, with the way people like Ron were acting, like it would all go away if they stuck their heads deep enough in the sand?
"All right," said Ruby, her shoulders slumped. Now she did sound and look chastised, but then again, it could be an act; Harry wouldn't be surprised. "We'll just go back now."
"I'll take you back," said Bill, not unkindly, as he stood. "I think there's been enough trouble for tonight, don't you?"
The sky stretching above them, though still dark, was dotted with stars; the rooks had stopped cawing. Harry wasn't sure if the deserted streets had gotten less eerie, or if it was just the effect of Bill striding just ahead of them, wand at the ready.
Ruby reached out, her cold fingers brushing his. She really did look sorrowful, the orange light casting harsh shadows on her face.
"I'm sorry."
"That's a first," said Harry reflexively.
She'd turned to face away again, feet silent on the damp grass of the Hogwarts grounds. "I know we should have been more careful—"
"Hang on, we? It was your idea!"
Bill, having gotten to the castle entrance, stopped and turned around, waiting for them to hurry through the door.
"Thanks," said Harry as he slipped through, and he really meant it. "I'm glad it was you and not Snape."
At that, Bill laughed, looking very much like Ron for a second, before he disappeared into the night.
"Good night — and don't get into any more trouble, all right?"
"So that's it, then," said Ruby crossly. "We didn't find anything."
Harry remembered the pointy metal thing he'd found on the floor. It might just be another piece of junk. But…
He reached into his pocket and pulled it out. It was heavier than it looked, weighing his palm down, the green satin ribbon fluttering between his fingers.
Ruby peered over his shoulder at it as he turned it this way and that. It looked like some kind of medal. There was a large, ornate 'M' engraved in the centre — 'M' for Malfoy?
"Could just be something that fell off the shelves," said Harry, trying not to get too excited.
"No," said Ruby. "That looks like it's actually worth something."
It was heavy. Probably solid gold.
Harry closed his fingers back around it and sighed, feeling decidedly off-kilter. Just because someone dropped it in Stitches and Draughts didn't necessarily mean it had anything to do with the Inferi.
But how many people have been in that junk shop? Come on, it looked abandoned.
They couldn't go back; that much was clear. Bill was right.
A door slammed from somewhere down the hallway, and Harry tossed the Cloak over both of them.
After all, as Bill said, the last thing they needed was more trouble tonight.
A/N: This week my writer's block turned into writer's bug so I was able to write this chapter in the span of two days, and start refilling my backlog.
I'm sure you all know by now how much I love torturing you with a bit of suspense. Who did you think was lurking in the shadows? Were you surprised when it turned out to be Bill?
