CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Tuesday started off exactly like Harry had predicted it would: Athenaïs had jumped her and nuzzled her happily, chirping and roaring mystically, relieved that her witch had returned home in one piece. The young Gargouille was rather worried when she saw the pained expression of Harry whenever the girl moved her left side too much. No sooner had Athenaïs finished nuzzling, did Druella, Ophelia, Ygraine and Walburga – at six thirty in the morning, in their night gowns – demand where Harry had been and why the hell was her left arm bandaged?!
It was safe to say Harry looked reminiscent of a guilty child caught red handed in the midst of mischief.
"It's rather difficult to explain," she had whispered.
"Well, try!" Druella had thundered, hands on her hips. "Because Avery, Prince, Rookwood and a bunch of the other first years kept reading books to Athenaïs to distract her from the fact you had not appeared at all. We searched everywhere for you; Morgana, even Riddle and his stupid Knights helped! Altair risked suspension searching all the girls' lavatories and Orion and Loreley were about to search the Forbidden Forest when Griffith caught them and they had to lie about picking herbs!"
"The question I want answered is: why is your arm bandaged?" Ophelia cross-questioned in a little more calm tone, but the look in her eyes told Harry that the Rowle heiress was not to be crossed at present.
A look of guilt plastered itself onto Harry's countenance, the regret she felt at the prospect of dying and turning her friends against the Muggles resurfaced. Because of said guilt, the only thing that came out of Harry's mouth was: "have a look for yourselves."
Harry pointed towards her head.
This had taken the girls by surprise, but Harry had lowered her Occlumency defences and allowed all the girls to use Legilimency on her and replay through the entire sequence of events: from her discussion with Thanatos to waking up in the Gringotts infirmary. By the time all four heiresses had seen what had happened to their friend, they all needed to sit down as they felt very light headed.
"Merlin, Harry … you went back in," Ygraine's voice was little more than a whisper. "You actually went back into the war!"
"Not only that, but you practically beat three of Grindelwald's most dangerous Generals into the ground!" Druella exclaimed, beginning to pace madly. "One of them was a distant cousin of mine! Her name is Vida and if the stories are correct, you shouldn't have been able to stand a chance."
"The other was Queenie Goldstein," Ophelia continued. "I remember because I saw a photo of her once. She is a naturally born Legilimens and deadly in deception and seduction."
"I heard rumours that Grindelwald had an Obscurus on his side, but I never thought it was true," Walburga wailed. "They used the Power Wither Hex on you … Harry, that curse is no joke!" She rounded on her friend. "By all accounts you should be dead or practically Muggle – you know this right?"
Harry simply nodded meekly.
Druella scoffed, laughing coolly. "I see it was no joke when you said that you have been trained for battle. Merlin, girl …" The Rosier heiress sat still for a moment with a contemplating look until she got to her feet again with a look of determination. "Let's see if we can change your bandages for the morning. But first – shower! You stink of blood, sweat and war."
Harry knew in that moment that she didn't deserve friends like Druella, Walburga, Ophelia and Ygraine because the girls had raided their own potion stashes and risked life and limb to wake War up to ask for bandages and-or Wiggentree leaves. The Slytherin Prefect had been murderous at being woken up something so trivial, until Ygraine had informed her that they were for Harry. At that point, War had not simply handed the bandages and Wiggentree leaves over but had insisted on applying them herself. War had been just as worried as everyone else but she had expressed it by giving Harry a whack around the head as a good morning greeting.
"I have no idea what you did to yourself or where you were, but you're a bloody idiot," War had informed her candidly straight afterwards, carefully unravelling Harry's old bandages.
"I am aware," Harry assured, rubbing the back of her head. She smirked a little. "Though I would not make a habit of slapping patients because of their own foolishness, if you ever want to be a Healer, War!"
War had rolled her eyes, redressing the wound with Wiggentree leaves first and then fastening the leaves on top of the wounds with slightly-potion soaked bandages for extra healing. Once War had finished her work, Druella and Walburga helped Harry dress in one of the easier versions of their uniform, one where Harry did not need to move her left arm unnecessarily, while Ophelia and Ygraine made sure her bag was packed. Harry however insisted on carrying her own bag when she saw the look in Druella's eyes that told her the Rosier heiress wanted to carry it for her.
Naturally, Harry could not escape the boys either. Altair and Orion were both pacing impatiently up and down the common room, looking genuinely pale. Riddle and his little cult were standing not too far from them, keeping an eye on the door to the girls' dormitories. When they heard it open and saw Harry being escorted out by Druella and Walburga, Altair and Orion halted and made a beeline for her.
"Where were you?!" Altair demanded, eyes and tone betraying his worry. "We looked everywhere for you – literally everywhere! You were just gone and we had to throw Slughorn off the scent more than a couple of times. What in the name of Merlin and Arthur were you doing?!"
Harry's eyes saddened in an instant and guilt marred her countenance. "Altair … I …"
"Potter and Malfoy's sister seemed to know where you were!" Altair continued, looking set to cry. "But they wouldn't say anything! Please Harry, you had me – us really worried … just tell us."
Harry looked set to cry herself, which is when Orion cut in. "Altair, she will tell us. Just … not now," Orion not so subtly motioned with his head in the direction of Riddle and his friends, who at least looked more than a little concerned. "Come on. Let's go and have breakfast."
There were more Slytherins than usual at the Gryffindor table that morning. Harry's dorm mates had decided to join them and Heron Lestrange had joined again as well, sitting with the Weasley twins and Artemis to discuss a new Quidditch magazine that had arrived. Harry was sandwiched between Altair and Orion, listening both Walburga and Orion continue telling the Prewetts about their family. Minerva was oddly quiet and Loreley was reading.
Harry's lessons were relatively uneventful, given the usual circumstances. Transfigurations saw another Dumbledore versus Riddle bout, this time about turning tortoise into trumpets for some only-Kilgharrah-knows-why reason, Professor Slughorn taught them how to make Garrotting Gas for some odd reason – with no hiccups from any of the students – Herbology was about the growth, care and uses of sneezewort and Charms was about reviewing the Reductor Curse so all in all, Harry could just knuckle down to work without much issue. Except for Potions, where she was working with one hand or trying to work without putting too much pressure on her left arm and hand. More than a couple of times, Harry had moved her left arm too fast, causing jolts of a burning sensation to run up and down her arm, making Harry wince audibly and visibly.
Unfortunately, Professor Slughorn had noticed and when after the third time he noticed, he had asked if there was anything wrong with her arm and if it needed to be seen by Madam Abernathy. The Potions professor had mistakenly tried to reach for Harry's arm, but she had jerked away quite sharply, almost knocking her and Artemis' ingredients onto the floor. Her Head of House, looking a little hurt as well as surprised, had then asked if she was injured, to which Harry had curtly answered: "it's just a scratch, sir."
Professor Slughorn had not been convinced but knew it was better to drop the subject for the time being.
During lunch, Harry and her friends, including War, immediately went to find the nearest girls' lavatories to change Harry's bandages without the boys seeing the wound. Artemis and Loreley, however, had joined them; Artemis had noticed first-hand how Harry had acted during Potions and had wanted to confirm the suspicions she had been having. When both girls saw the wound for the first time, while Loreley looked absolutely unphased by it, Artemis looked set to cry.
"You got injured…" was all she was able to whisper. "I knew you would be. Why … why would you willingly go back and face them when this is what can happen to you?"
Harry sighed. "It is all I have ever known," she replied with an undertone of serious regret. "I … find it difficult to let that part of me go."
"I think you need to find a way to make sure you do," Artemis responded bluntly. "A Gringotts assignment is one thing; this is worse. It is pure madness!"
"The trouble is …" Harry swallowed. "The thrill of battle is rather addictive."
None of the girls knew exactly how to react to that.
Druella fixed her gaze on Harry. "We will never be able to truly understand what you had to go through. What you have had to face, but Harry – you escaped and you managed to come here. We are your friends, and as your friends, it is our duty to protect you. And this," she pointed to Harry's scarred arm, "is what we need to protect you from. We are not going to simply let you do this again. You hear me?"
Harry hung her head and nodded slowly. "I hear you. And … I don't think I will go back unless I absolutely have to."
"We will make sure you never have to," Walburga vowed. "So, what are you going to tell the boys?"
Harry sighed deeply, closing her eyes. "I am so sick of having to lie. Sick of having to constantly hide … Orion is now one of my best friends, a brother almost, and Altair …" Harry exhaled again as her heart fluttered. Her friends could not contain their smirks. "He is right. He has the right to be let in."
"Let in? In on the secret or into your heart?" Druella teased.
"Oh come on, Druella! We can all see that ship has long sailed, judging by Harry's face," Ophelia giggled. Harry's already crimson cheeks flushed brighter.
"You two are being ridiculous again," Harry scoffed, though her heart was beating like a drum.
"What is ridiculous is that neither of you have made a move on the other yet!" War scolded, shaking her head at Harry. "Merlin, Harry, a blind man can see the way he looks at you. I mean, it just isn't funny at this point."
Harry grumbled as her friends laughed at her expense. Nope, there was no way Altair felt that way about her. Absolutely no way! Or did he …?
But she did keep her word. Harry and the girls met Altair and Orion in the Room of Requirement before dinner where the Room had provided them with a very homely, comforting setting with nice sofas, armchairs, pillows and some mugs of hot chocolate. As soon as she knew that they were safe from any potential eavesdroppers and had taken a deep breath, Harry looked at Orion and Altair, resign in her eyes.
"You didn't find me last night for one very good reason," she began as her friends made themselves comfortable. "That is – I wasn't even on Hogwarts grounds."
"What?!" both boys chorused in shock.
"Where were you?" Orion added immediately.
Harry's hands gripped each other tightly. "I was in Europe. Belgium, to be exact. If you want to have more detail, Antwerp."
Altair couldn't believe his ears. "Why were you in Antwerp?! How did you even get to Antwerp from here? Did you Apparate?"
"No," Harry smiled weakly. "Portkey. As for why I was there, it was because-"
"Of the Flamels," Orion breathed out in realisation. "The Flamels know the Peverells, thus they know you … you went to rescue them before Grindelwald got to them!"
Harry nodded. "The Burkes and Melanie helped me. Gringotts got us in and out of Antwerp. We found the Flamels first, but Grindelwald apparently has some very effective spies and his people came not too long after we found them."
Harry bit her lip and looked at her shoes. They were in a definite need of a polish.
"What happened then?" Altair whispered.
"Mr. Burke and his brother managed to get the Flamels out. I … Stunned Grindelwald's men, took a few out and then Melanie, disguised as her horse form, got me out of there but the ones who recovered gave chase. I was," Harry laughed coldly at this point, "forced to battle them on horseback."
The horror was palpable on both Orion and Altair's faces.
"Then, when we were about to reach our Portkey back to London … I got hit," Harry finished. "Power Wither Hex, I believe it was. That's what my healer and Walburga said anyway." The Black heiress nodded in agreement. "I … I was knocked out for almost four hours. I woke up in the Gringotts infirmary, got scolded and then was taken back to Hogwarts."
Both boys had embraced Harry the moment she had finished telling the story, but it was Altair who held onto her for the longest, as though he was afraid that any second she could disappear in a puff of smoke. "Please don't ever do that again," he whispered into her shoulder.
"I will do what I need to, to protect those I love," Harry responded bluntly, still holding him close. "But I will not seek out battle as easily now."
"You better not!" Altair half chuckled as he finally let her go and looked at Harry's arm and then at her. "May I?" he asked, pointing to the sleeve covering her wound.
Harry nodded. Altair gently and carefully rolled up her sleeve, with Orion's help holding the sleeve up. Both boys stared in shock at just how much bandage and Wiggentree leaves had been necessary to redress the wound. Judging by the Wiggentree leaves alone, Altair knew that the curse Harry had been hit with had likely been, as the girls had deduced, a Power Withering Hex. Some of the Darkest magic in existence as it could erode a person's magic.
Yet, somehow, Harry Evans had managed to survive. Altair gently caressed a purple shimmering vein of the scar with his thumb that stuck out from under one of the leaves. "Whoever did this to you, will get a few Nott curses thrown at them next time."
"And Black ones," Orion agreed, eyes flashing dangerously. "We will make them rue the day they were born."
Harry blinked at them. She looked set to protest, as usual, but something made her hold her tongue this time. Fortunately, the subject was dropped for the rest of the day. At dinner, only silly and normal subjects were permitted: Quidditch, Orion's inability to keep his mouth shut, familiars being a pain, siblings being a pain and a game of Guess Which Teacher Dealt With the Most Detentions In a Day based on how tired the teachers looked.
It was during this little game that Harry's senses told her that she was being watched. While her friends were distracted, Harry looked towards the Slytherin table and met the eyes of Riddle, who gave her a small smile as their eyes met and quickly distracted himself by trying to listen to Avery and Mulciber's conversation, which was no doubt centred on Quidditch, as it almost always was.
As for Riddle, he had known ever since Harry disappeared that something had happened to her. She had been unusually erratic the day before and today, she was more closed off than normal, if that was even possible, and clearly had sustained an injury of some kind. Harry barely used her left arm and had been unusually snappy with Professor Slughorn when he had tried to examine her arm. It was tempting for Riddle to simple ask Harry what had happened, but he knew fully well that he would not receive a straight answer. She didn't trust him.
He had been resolved to allow her to simply tell him in her own time, but that didn't relieve the pang of worry he felt.
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"Rollo, you seem really out of sorts. Are you sure you have recovered? I don't mind taking over again for a bit, I really don't mind," Katerina stated for what felt like the umpteenth time, her brow furrowed and her arms folded. "I am pretty sure the Lord and Lady Rowle will not be pleased to find you in St. Mungo's because of exhaustion! I hear Ophelia is in her final year at Hogwarts and will be taking her mock exams soon. I doubt she needs the added stress of her brother possibly landing in hospital because he refuses to rest!"
I really need an anti-headache potion soon, was one of the only thoughts that shot through Rollo's head. But at the same time, he could not fault his friend and colleague for her concern. After all, she didn't know the true circumstances of why he was so tired, and why he had been gone for so long.
If she did, Katerina would likely have strung him up herself.
"I am perfectly well, Katerina. I am simply tired from all this paperwork that has built up while I was gone," Rollo answered smoothly, not looking up from the papers he was signing. "It really is the most terrible inconvenience."
"Not to mention the threat that has been made to your life," Katerina added.
Rollo smiled smally, halting only for a moment in his signing, almost blotting the ink. "Indeed. But I assure you, Katerina, that I am perfectly fine. I just wish to get on with my business and not worry so needlessly."
Katerina didn't look convinced and she looked at the goblins in the corner of the office with a sneer on her face, who were watching them very carefully, as though Katerina herself was under suspicion. "Do those two even have the capability to blink? Your guards never leave you alone for a single moment do they?"
"Nope," Rollo confirmed, popping the 'p', setting another mission order aside and picking up another Cursebreaker's report. "Twenty-four-seven guard detail, ordered by His Grace himself. If you disagree, I suggest you take it up with His Grace yourself."
Katerina snorted. She may not like the goblins inherently but she was not a fool – no one crossed King Ragnok without having their affairs in order. Openly questioning a direct order was not for the faint of heart.
"Well, I still think the King is making a fuss over nothing. If the threat was serious, Aurors would have been called," Katerina sniffed. "Frankly, the only thing at risk at present is your health. You need sleep – more of it, and soon."
"I will – later," Rollo reassured as he put the report aside, signed and sealed, and then picked up another mission order that required his signature. "Right now, I am rather busy and I would rather work without so many distractions around me before I am called down to explain to His Grace why our Cursebreakers are all in a muddle or the correct equipment has not been signed off on."
Katerina harrumphed, but for the first time since Rollo's return, she didn't argue and simply left, closing the door quite loudly behind her. Rollo breathed a sigh of relief once she was gone; Katerina could really be the most irritating mother hen when she wished to be! Without much hesitation, Rollo gathered together the pile of old telegrams from the Dark Lord that he had concealed in a secret underlayer in one of his drawers and began working on a message.
The night was long; could not get out of bed. No new owl calls. The bankers are still chasing shadows. The night is still silent.
Rollo let the ink dry for a bit before making eye contact with one of his goblin guards and handed him the message for delivery to Goldheart for approval or rejection. Rollo had taken to his new status as double agent quite quickly – he had managed to stay alive, thus saving his people, and that is all that he cared about. The goblin guard, with a sneer, left with the message. Rollo knew that not everyone had been happy with the King's decision but so long as Grindelwald still believed that Rollo was his little pawn, the Cursebreaker was prepared to put up with anything.
The goblin returned quite quickly. "Approved," he grunted curtly.
Rollo nodded, burnt the old telegrams, got up from his desk, went over to his secret telegram machine inside his cupboard, and set to work sending the machine to a very impatient Dark Lord.
"I wonder what your family would think of you if they knew what you have done," Rollo heard one of his guards sneer at him. "Proud, or disappointed?"
Rollo's jaw clenched for a moment. "Half would be proud, and half disappointed," he responded coolly. "There are those in my family who support Grindelwald's ideology and cause. My parents, however, do not, neither do my grandparents. They do not like Muggles, but they do not hate them enough to want to start a war they cannot win."
"I would have let the Dark Lord execute me, rather than soak myself in such shame," his other guard sneered.
"Yes, well, you have no idea what you're talking about, do you?" Rollo shot back coldly, for the first time glaring at his guards. "You haven't had to make the decision I had to make, so it is very easy for you to say. Fifteen of my people are still in danger – do not talk to me as if I should have simply let them die to save my pride."
With that, Rollo turned around and finished his message, then promptly sent it.
Neither guard had answered him, nor spoke up again for the rest of the day. They didn't even look in his direction. Considering the pounding inside Rollo's head, that was fine by him. He needed some peace and quiet for a while. Katerina was right: he did need to sleep a whole lot more.
As for the recipients of the telegram Rollo had sent, it was safe to say that the new telegram was more than welcome. Indeed, the moment that the telegram machine was heard getting to work, the three wizards who had been assigned to stay with it, and had been bored right out of their minds, waiting for Rollo's messages, jumped three feet into the air in surprise but anticipation.
Once the message was fully printed, the three men did not wait to call a superior and raced to tell the Dark Lord themselves, almost ploughing down other guards and more high ranking members of Grindelwald's forces as they went.
"SIR! HE HAS ANSWERED! ROWLE HAS ANSWERED!"
The three wizards from the lower ranks of Grindelwald's forces came bursting into the Dark Lord's study, where the Dark Lord had been trying to distract himself with some fun Ancient Runes puzzles in one of his favourite magazines. Queenie and Vida, who were likely taking revenge for him forbidding them from going shopping, had been slowly starting a campaign of reducing his coffee intake, so he was rather sulky as he waited for one of his followers to prepare a cup of herbal tea. He had been stuck on the The sequence of symbols that signify a Pictish chieftain's grave question when the door had burst open unceremoniously and his men had charged in.
Gellert had shot up from his sofa in an instant, not even remotely vexed at the incredibly rude entrance of the men, eager for some potential good news. "Oh, he has? Tell me!"
"He hasn't been discovered but he couldn't risk sending us anything until now. There is no news of the new Cursebreaker and the goblins are still at a loss who the spy could be," one of the men immediately translated the message.
Gellert's heart sank. "Nothing? In all that time, he has heard nothing?"
"No, sir," another of the wizards confirmed. "Or at least, he is being more careful than normal. I have a feeling Gringotts may be keeping a more closer eye on their employees and what mail traffic goes in and out of the bank."
Gellert began pacing. "Understandable, but still … Something is not right … not right … something not right …"
The three informants exchanged a nervous look and did not even attempt to conceal their apprehension as they shifted from one foot to the other, quietly bracing themselves for another outburst from the Dark Lord. Gellert ignored them as he continued to pace. His spy had been radio silent, which had been a cause for great concern. The reprieve for the Cursebreaker was too long for Gellert's liking and then there was the matter of the masked freak who had managed to wipe Antwerp's streets with his best Generals and their men and had stolen the Flamels from his grasp!
Gellert's eyes flashed dangerously. He wanted to have fun, he wanted revenge and he wanted it sooner rather than bloody later! No one ruins his plans and his fun and gets away with it Scott free! Plus, how was he supposed to gauge the true capabilities of this new Cursebreaker if she was left without an assignment? As for that masked weirdo, there was no way that they were affiliated with the Resistance. His spies in the Resistance had reported all out panic in their ranks. Had the Silver Dragon been one of them, there wouldn't be. So, where did their allegiance lie?
Gellert stopped in his tracks and looked at the trembling wizards in front of him.
"Tell Rowle to find the so-called Silver Dragon," Gellert ordered. "Tell him that if he even hears a whisper of who they are he is to report it immediately or one of his little friends will meet a rather unfortunate fate. And tell him if he is forced to go silent again, HE ALERTS ME FIRST! NOW WHERE IS THAT BLASTED TEA I ORDERED?! THERE HAD BETTER BE A PROPER BISCUIT WITH IT THIS TIME AND NOT ONE OF THOSE BLAND MONSTROSITIES!"
The three wizards bowed, trembling in their shoes, and darted from the room as fast as their legs could carry them.
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Harry enjoyed a peaceful night and an entirely peaceful Wednesday in that Harry could entirely focus on her lessons, homework and spending time with her friends without caring about another irritating news article or a Dark Lord causing irritations or having to worry about executing a petty prank in the name of vengeance. However, there was one thing that had put a damper on the Wednesday, and potentially every day following. True, Avery would still get his comeuppance, but considering the fact that the dates of the fifth year and seventh year mock exams had been announced by Dumbledore at breakfast, it had taken a back seat for now.
The fifth years' mock exams would commence on 11 November and would end 18 November, while the seventh years' mock exams would begin 19 November and end 25 November. The teachers went around handing out the schedules for each exam; Professor Babbling had jubilantly informed Harry that she felt Harry had made enough progress in her subject to warrant taking the Ancient Runes mock exam. Harry had been rather pleased about that, and both Orion and Lestrange had lit up at the prospect of giving her more practise messages. However, on the whole, it was safe to say that there was almost wide spread panic amongst the students of all the Houses who were in those years. In an instant, the library had turned into the most popular place in Hogwarts. Books that both the fifth years and seventh years, and sixth years in some cases, potentially needed started flying off the shelves at such a rapid pace that Madam Ellis' nose had been put out of joint somewhat. It had led to quibble and complaints being filed by some of the lower year students missing books they also needed because they had already been taken by fifth or seventh years that Madam Ellis desperately tried to resolve quickly. By lunch, the shellshock about the revelation that the fifth and seventh years had less than four weeks to prepare for their mocks had reached its zenith, especially at the Gryffindor table.
"This is going to be a disaster!" Artemis had wailed for around the sixth time as she looked at the chapter on nonverbal spells in her Transfigurations textbook that she had open in front of her nose. "I hate theory! A gold fish could write better essays than I can! I am a practical girl; I just can't do exams. I start sweating and my brain just stops working."
"So, little change there then!" Billy teased, causing a cacophony of chuckles as his older sister gave him a sharp whack around the head for that comment.
Minerva had rolled her eyes. "Artemis, one way or another, you don't exactly have a choice in the matter."
"You said that during our O.W.L.s and the only reason I even passed my exams was because the practical grades weighed more in percentage than the theory for Potions, Transfigurations, Herbology, Astronomy, Defence, Divination, Charms and Care of Magical Creatures!" Artemis lamented as she put her head into her book dramatically. "Do you find it surprising that I managed to get six EEs and two As because I do! You remember what I got for History? A freaking P and that is because I suck at memorising dates and stuff."
"We are not-"
"-all that academically-"
"-inclined either!" Septimus and Octavius chorused, deflating.
Harry, who had been trying to design a logo for Scythe and Raven after finishing her tomato soup and fruit loaf, looked up from her sketchbook and frowned. "Artemis, what exactly do you struggle to remember?"
"Everything! Basic facts and events that happened on those days; it just doesn't stick," Artemis heaved. "I can't write essays all that well because I always go off on a tangent. I am only just getting the hang of it in Potions, Transfigurations and Care but I won't master the rest in time for the mocks!"
"We just-"
"-do not see-"
"-the fun in it," the Weasley twins added. "Studying sucks."
Minerva rolled her eyes at this.
"I do not like studying either, and have problems with memorising Potion ingredients and properties," Altair contributed and then grinned at Harry, "but Harry here gave me a way that actually works for me."
"Oh?" Artemis sat up, looking very hopeful. "What was it?"
Altair's eyes glittered. "Harry made me some flashcards."
"Flashcards?" the Weasleys chorused curiously. "What are they?"
"Nothing too fancy – you write a date, potion ingredient, potion or whatever it is you are studying on one side and then the properties on the other," Harry explained as Altair got some of his out to show the Gryffindors. "You study them for half an hour and then ask someone to test you. You don't even need to sit with them; if you like to pace while revising, you can pace with these."
"That is absolutely bloody brilliant!" Septimus' eyes sparkled as he looked through Altair's flashcards, reminding Harry strongly of Ron in a second.
"What subject do you struggle with the most?" Harry asked.
"Believe it or not, Transfigurations," Septimus admitted. "All the precision work; it doesn't come naturally to me."
"I struggle with Care," Octavius added. "I love working with the creatures but when I start reading, the words just start flying off the pages and I can't study the theory. I have it with the other subjects too but for some reason, Care is the worst offender."
"Oooo, I can help with that!" Ophelia, who had overheard the conversation, along with the other girls, Loreley and Orion, chirped excitedly. "My mother breeds familiars so magical creature knowledge is kind of a requirement in our house."
"You would tutor me?" Octavius looked surprised.
"Of course," Ophelia smiled.
It was almost at this moment that Harry lit up, an epiphany hitting. "Do you think there are others in need of tutoring?"
"Yes!" there was a chorus from the eavesdropping Gryffindors and her friends.
"Merlin, I know that face by now," Druella sighed, shaking her head and chuckling in amusement. "You have a plan, don't you?"
"Not exactly, it's more just a thought," Harry responded. "As I mentioned before, I taught my friends the Patronus Charm during my fifth year. I don't remember if I said why, but it was because we were learning nothing in Defence, literally nothing. We had an interfering Ministry worker as our tutor. She was setting us up for failure so, Hermione came up with the idea of a secret Defence club. What if we do something similar, but get a teacher-approved Revision Club?"
"I don't think it is a bad idea," Minerva answered as many faces lit up, "but how will we cover all the subjects that need to be covered?"
"Simple: we take the temperature of those facing the mocks, which subjects they struggle with and if they are up to being tutored," Harry replied as she took out some parchment and her quill and began making notes. "We also ask people in our Year and the sixth years if they are willing to step up as tutor."
"That's actually a good solution," Tessa Prewett piped up. "Us sixth years are kind of in between having to study but still having more time to relax and prepare lessons. I for one am willing to cover Astronomy and Potions."
"I will already volunteer myself for Charms and Care," Ophelia stated.
"I would not mind taking Transfigurations if this proposal gets approved," Minerva added.
"Arithmancy for me, please," Loreley piped up.
"Ancient Runes are my bread and butter!" Orion sang.
"Oh," Heron Lestrange looked quite disappointed. "I really wanted that one."
Harry smiled kindly at him. "I mean if we can get enough people needing help with Ancient Runes, we could always use a second tutor."
"You are definitely taking History, right, Harry?" Walburga guessed with a small grin.
"No way! Defence!" Altair argued. "Harry has battle experience and has the ability to turn Boggarts into Dementors if we need them."
Harry smiled kindly at him, flushing quite pink. "I am not sure that is enough to qualify me for Defence tutor. Actually, I was thinking about asking Tom Riddle."
That took many people by surprise; both Weasley twins spat out their pumpkin juice in surprise, promptly choking on their saliva, much to the disgust of Minerva, Tessa, Artemis and other Gryffindors. Billy Prewett giggled madly. Lestrange could not believe his ears. Altair and Orion blinked at her in disbelief, Loreley looked excited – for some reason – and Druella pinched the bridge of her nose. Walburga, Ophelia and Ygraine looked amused too.
"Look, I know he and I do not see eye to eye," Harry began.
"Understatement!" came the chorus of students.
"But I can't deny that he is a walking encyclopaedia of knowledge, and I think it would be stupid not to use that to our advantage," Harry continued. "Riddle is a match for most teachers in a verbal debate and his magical prowess is beyond reproach and he himself told me that he wanted to be a Defence teacher later."
"Seriously?!" the Gryffindors could not help but stare in Riddle's direction in disbelief. Riddle, in turn, who had suddenly noticed so many people look in general direction, titled his head at them curiously. Harry shot him a small smile, hoping it would translate to 'I am not telling them anything bad about you this time'.
Well, it seemed to work – a little too well, because Riddle had gotten up from the Slytherin table to the shock of students and teachers alike, and had made the journey over to where Harry and her friends were sitting. "Afternoon. I just came over to ask why the Gryffindors are looking at me like I am about to turn them to stone like a Gorgon."
"Gorgons are more pleasant company than you. Basilisk suits you better," Druella quipped as she popped a grape into her mouth. A few quiet snickers ran around the table.
Riddle ignored her and kept his burgundy gaze on Harry. "Did I cause offence again?"
"Not this time," Harry replied civilly. "I was just telling some of my friends that you told me about your ambition to be a Defence teacher."
"Oh," Riddle looked genuinely surprised by that. "I did not think that it was such a closely guarded secret," he joked. "May I ask why I became a topic?"
"Harry has had an idea," Lestrange answered easily. "She wants to get permission to set up a Revision Club for the fifth and seventh years, and we're discussing potential tutors for each subject."
Riddle's face lit up in an instant. "You were considering me for Defence?"
"Yes, she was," Walburga confirmed steely. "I have no idea why, since you haven't exactly been friendly to her."
A pang of guilt must have hit Riddle because he visibly winced. "No, we have not," he agreed. "Something I deeply regret."
Artemis scoffed. "You? Please, Riddle and regret are barely acquainted, let alone friends!"
"We are at least on speaking terms now," Riddle answered sheepishly. "I have already sincerely apologised to Harry for my actions and I am in the process of atoning for what I have done."
Artemis did not look convinced; neither did Minerva, the Weasley twins and the rest of the seventh year Gryffindors. "I guess we will just have to see. If Harry wants to let you atone, that is up to her. I would have dunked your ungrateful behind into the Black Lake in her position. Still would, if she gave the word."
"Artemis!" Minerva scolded lightly.
Harry chuckled and turned her attention onto Riddle, who looked extremely apologetic. "So, will you agree to being a Defence tutor?" she asked.
Riddle's charming grin resurfaced. "I would be honoured."
"Good. Then I will see if I can catch Headmaster Dippet before dinner and discuss it with him," Harry stated. "Could you do me a favour, Riddle?"
"Of course! What is it?"
"Could you ask around Slytherin and see if anyone is open to being tutored?"
Riddle nodded. "I will get onto it and report back at dinner."
Harry smiled momentarily. "Thank you."
As if the unspoken King of Slytherin could not surprise the Gryffindors further, he actually bowed his head to her before he left. As Riddle returned to the Slytherin table, Altair shook his head at the Head Boy's retreating form. "He is losing it."
"Riddle has been losing it for years," Ignatius pointed out.
"He freaking bowed!" Artemis said in disbelief. "He does not bow to anyone unless they are duelling-"
"Oh no!" Orion, who had been checking his timetable, suddenly squealed in panic.
"What is now, Black?" Altair sighed in exasperation, sipping his pumpkin juice.
"We have Defence next!" Orion answered, waving his schedule like he was trying to flag down a rescue ship.
"So?" Walburga asked, shaking her head slightly.
"Do you not remember what Professor Merrythought said last lesson?"
There were a good number of paled faces in less than ten seconds when they realised what Orion meant. Merrythought's little threat: next Defence lesson, everyone except Harry, would be facing their Boggart.
Bugger.
"Harry, we need to change your bandages," Loreley also reminded her.
Double bugger.
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The Hawk seeks the Silver Dragon. It took the treasure. Write about any trace of it or the treasure. If you cannot get out of bed, find an easier method of opening the window.
Rollo read and reread the telegram for about the sixth time, frowning in absolute confusion. He had just come back from a meeting with Miles, Katerina and Satoshi about the recent missions in Turkey, Brazil and Peru when he had found, not only his office with no goblin guards in it, but a new telegram in his box that made very little sense to Rollo.
What in the name of Mordred's Druidic triskele was the Silver Dragon? This had been one of the bottlenecks of having to hide from the goblins and being kept under house arrest for so long. Apparently, Rollo had missed something very crucial, and he knew that if he did not know what the Silver Dragon was it could put his people in danger – and his own life.
But at the same time … was there a possibility that this was some kind of test? Grindelwald had done it to him before. Rollo had once gotten a telegram that had asked him about 'keeping an eye on the bagel', which had sent him into a panic until he realised that 'the bagel' referred to King Ragnok and his Council.
But the Silver Dragon and the treasure … Rollo had not the foggiest idea what that could be referring to. It was at this point that Goldheart, his handler, entered the room, regarding his coldly. "Mr. Rowle, has he been in contact again?"
"He has," Rollo confirmed as he handed the telegram to Goldheart and put Silencing Charms on the door, as usual. "It seems he has set his sights on 'the Silver Dragon'. I have no idea what that is. It could be another one of his little tests; he sometimes orders his communication team to send me random but menacing sounding telegrams to keep me on my toes."
"That is good to know, Mr. Rowle, but in this case, I believe it is no test," Goldheart informed as he put the telegram down. "You see, Gringotts recently provided aid to an off-the-book rescue mission into Belgium to rescue the treasure the Dark Lord is referring to. The mission was a success and it seems, Grindelwald suspects the involvement of someone at Gringotts."
"Which is accurate," Rollo deduced.
"Obviously," Goldheart grinned at him for the first time. "We are the soul of discretion."
Rollo frowned. "But if the Silver Dragon stole from Grindelwald," he paled, "that means they wiped the floor with Vida Rosier, Queenie Goldstein and Credence Barebone!"
"Which means that Grindelwald is extremely angry," Goldheart added, looking very pleased.
"Merlin," Rollo whispered, taking his chair behind his desk in complete shellshock. He turned to look sharply at his handler. "Who is this Silver Dragon?"
Goldheart snorted. "It is a closely guarded secret. The only goblins who know is His Grace, Griphook and Rava."
Rollo was taken aback. "Rava?! Why would the Head Healer know …" Realisation quickly spread onto his face. "Rava healed them. The Silver Dragon is one of our Cursebreakers, aren't they?"
Goldheart raised an eyebrow. "I cannot say."
"No, of course not," Rollo resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Keep me in the dark for now, I don't care. But I will start caring if this Silver Dragon becomes a problem." He frowned deeply in thought. "Regarding the Lady Peverell, what do I tell him?"
"His Grace wants her to rest a little while longer but plans to start sending her assignments again starting next week," his handler informed candidly. "You have Royal sanction to inform the Dark Lord of this."
"That should cheer Grindelwald up a bit," Rollo chuckled.
The double agent went to his machine and began typing.
Understood. Heard the Crown may begin sending assignments again. No idea what yet.
With Goldheart's approval, Rollo sent the message, hoping he had worded the message well enough to ensure that Grindelwald could not suspect that Rollo had no idea, or some idea, about who he was referring to.
As it was in espionage, the first mistake would also be his last mistake.
###############################
Oh boy, the kids are about to literally face their demons! How will the children be able to deal with that? Defence should be interesting. Will Harry's idea of a Revision Club be accepted by the Hogwarts staff? Will Grindelwald start suspecting something funny at Gringotts and ask Rollo to investigate? How would Rollo deal with that? Guess you will have stay tuned and find out!
As usual, the world is entirely JK's as are most of the characters and I am not making any money off this story or any other stories of mine. This is just me having fun!
I am so happy so many of you are continuing to follow the story and I hope to see you in the next chapter!
Gellert *stomps in*: UMBREON! THEY GAVE ME A DIGESTIVE!
*Sigh* Oh and Orion.
Orion *pops in*: Yes?
Ghostwriter71 wants you to know they are not a ghost!
Orion: OK! Good to know!
Gellert: Do not ignore me, you insufferable writer!
Kingmaker'sUmbreon