CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Much to Harry's surprise, Tuesday already saw the preparations for Samhain, which was five days away. Unlike in the 90s, where only Jack-o-Lanterns had been carved and a huge feast was prepared for Halloween alone at the castle, the 40s apparently took much longer to prepare. The Sabbath was taken very seriously. The castle was slowly being decked from tower to dungeon in black, deep purple, silver, grey, orange, gold and dark red decorations. There were no silly skeletons, vampires, werewolves or ghouls amongst the decorations at all like Harry had been used to seeing around Little Whinging around Halloween for eleven years, and was in stark contrast to the barely decorated building as Hogwarts had been in the 90s.
Instead of the usual monsters, there were Triple Moons, Anubis depictions, winged angels and Valkyries and Reaper images sewn into the décor. Marigolds and red roses began decorating torches and statues all over the castle. Indeed, a crown of red roses had been put onto Athenaïs' head because Peeves, who was threatened by the Bloody Baron into helping, had been tossing the crowns onto the heads of the gargoyles around the castle flippantly and hadn't noticed the Gargouille amongst them. Not that the young dragon minded; she rather liked the red roses. Seraphina had been most envious, which had made Athenaïs preen! The Bloody Baron and other ghosts were less than amused by Peeves' antics. The elves in the kitchen were already hard at work, ordering different ingredients for the meals they were going to prepare. The teachers got the students involved in the decorating too. The younger years were already allowed to start carving pumpkins under the supervision of the seventh and sixth years to make sure the eleven and twelve-year-olds didn't get injured or decided to carve inappropriate images into the pumpkins.
The castle looked already magnificent, but now it felt as though one was being transported back centuries to the past or right into the midst of a real-life Arthurian tale, albeit a slightly Darker version. Harry was certain Morgana would have definitely approved of the décor. The Headless Hunt, decked in different types of armour, only added to this aesthetic. Harry, although she had thought Hogwarts always looked beautiful, decided she already preferred the decorating choices of the 1940s.
Unfortunately there was an all-encompassing nervous energy amongst a handful of the students during breakfast because of some news that had come right out of the blue: Professor Babbling had taken unexpectantly to her bed, not feeling well at all. All Ancient Runes lessons had been effectively cancelled until a substitute Ancient Runes teacher could be found. While most of the Ancient Runes students were trying not to fly into all out panic, Orion had quickly decided to write to his Runes-obsessed grandfather, Sirius Black II, asking for his assistance. Apparently Orion's grandfather had abdicated in favour of his son years ago so that he could focus on his Rune work after so many years as Lord Black. But, until a substitute was found, Headmaster Dippet had given permission for the Ancient Runes period of the fifth and seventh years to be temporarily used as extra revision classes, with all the sixth years permitted to sit in on the lessons too.
Still, while there had been some quick relief, Harry could not help but see a harbinger in Professor Babbling's sudden illness. Whether it was a vampire attack or an invasion of werewolves or Peeves gathering poltergeists to vandalise Hogwarts, Harry could only guess but her track record with the Sabbath spoke for itself. Samhain always saw something happen!
Harry was quilling a letter to Nicholas Flamel, asking him for information about Evren Peverell I and her violin, listening in on the conversations around her.
"Babbling just had to fall ill weeks before the mocks," Dolohov grumbled as he poured another cup of coffee. "And if that isn't already bad enough, Chattox will likely be on her usual the-Veil-is-thinning-be-on-your-guard tripe, getting us to read more omens that are nothing more than a load of old waffle, and to top that off, the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws have booked the Quidditch pitch completely full for the rest of the week!"
"It really is most inconvenient," Avery agreed, brow furrowed in deep irritation, stabbing his cereal with his spoon.
"Hey! You Snakes have until December or January to train, lucky buggers! Our game is coming up next week. I want to be able to catch the Snitch and not end up being verbally blasted by my Slytherin twin, thank you very much," Artemis protested with a slight laugh, buttering her toast.
"Or Orion," Druella added with a grin.
Orion and Harry exchanged an amused look, both sipping their coffee.
"Have you two figured out a routine yet?" Altair asked eagerly.
"I think we will just go with the flow," Harry answered with a small shrug, finishing her second cup of coffee.
"Like we're just having a normal conversation but with a little bit more pep!" Orion put in, his eyes shining with excitement.
"Oh, Merlin, as if you need to get more peppy than you are on a daily basis," Altair laughed.
"Are you going to try and give Dumbledore another heart attack?" Arcturus wanted to know, grinning as he leant slightly past Altair to address Harry directly.
"Well, we're just going to do our thing and if Dumbledore starts shouting, that's on him," Harry chuckled, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"Oh boy," Tom commented, grinning and shaking his head.
"Harry, what have you got planned for the fifth years' lessons?" Heron questioned.
Harry smirked. "I am not going to give you clues for the seventh year lessons if that is what you're fishing for!"
"Not even one tiny clue?" Altair donned the Pout of Doom.
Harry smiled at him fondly, mischief dancing in her eyes. "Nope! Patience, dear Altair."
"But I am not patient!" the Nott heir argued back with a grin.
"Yes, that's the problem," Dolohov sneered, earning himself a cold look from Harry and Arcturus, and an angry one from Altair.
The tension that had slowly descended on the group was interrupted by the rather timely arrival of a very flustered and panic-stricken Professor McCullagh, who came to speak with Ophelia, who was indeed part of the choir, about a new chant for Samhain. The Head of Ravenclaw House had been going through every member of the choir, looking for ideas for a new chant to work with for days but no one had come up with anything. The issue was, Ophelia was just as stumped for ideas as the choir leader and the rest of the choir members.
"Trust me, Professor, I have tried to come up with some ideas but they are either overdone or are not suited for Samhain," Ophelia informed, looking incredibly deflated. "I have gone through all my old books – choir or otherwise – and nothing!"
However, Orion Black did have an idea, thanks to a spontaneous lightbulb moment. "Professor, forgive me for interrupting, but have you contemplated using some non-magical literature for inspiration? Lord Byron? The man does have some amazing pieces. Bram Stoker, perhaps? His works are quite fitting for the atmosphere of Samhain. Or maybe Shakespeare? His work is just magic for Muggles really."
Professor McCullagh opened her mouth to answer but quickly closed it as very slowly a deep frown descended onto her brow. A great number of Slytherins who overheard, either pulled a face of utter horror at the suggestion of using Muggle works or tried to maintain a look of sheer indifference. "No," the Charms professor eventually admitted. "I had not considered that at all."
Harry, suddenly remembering the chant she and the choir had performed her third year, also had a beaming smile on her face. "I know! Shakespeare's Macbeth has a really spooky, maybe slightly stereotypical chant in it, sung by three witches known as the Weird Sisters," she informed Professor McCullagh. "It's quite fitting for Samhain, considering their propensity for their Fate-based magic. We sang the chant ones in the choir I was part of."
"Yes! The Weird Sisters, they are my favourites," Orion beamed. "They had a chant about Fate too, somewhere in the beginning of the play, if I remember correctly."
# Posters of the sea and land, the weird sisters, hand in hand, thus do go about, about: thrice to thine and thrice to mine, and thrice again, to make up nine,# Harry sang as she began drumming the melody on the table with her hands, then clapping her hands once and clicking her fingers to the beat she remembered during choir warm-up practise.
Orion whooped. "Yep, that's the one!" he then too recited: "when shall we three meet again, in thunder, lightning or in rain?"
Harry chuckled. "By the pricking of my thumbs-"
"Something wicked this way comes!" Orion and Harry chorused.
No one, not even the Gryffindors, knew how to react to this, but the Head of Ravenclaw lit up in an instant with relief.
"In which part of Macbeth is this particular chant you know?" Professor McCullagh asked eagerly.
"Act IV, Scene 1," Orion answered immediately.
"OK, I will see if I can get myself a copy-"
"Or I could lend you mine, ma'am!" Orion cut across brightly. "I do not mind. I am rather absorbed with A Midsummer's Nightdream at the moment."
Professor McCullagh sighed with relief. "That would be highly appreciated, Mr. Black. Thank you so much."
As the Charms professor and Orion talked about Macbeth, Harry, suddenly quite pepped up herself, started to write the song she wished she had been around enough during sixth year to practise with the choir. It was one of her major regrets; that her assisting Dumbledore with Horcrux Hunting had effectively put her time with the choir to a very abrupt halt. But Harry loved In Noctem a lot and had been rather looking forward to singing it but … it was not to be.
Once she had finished writing the song, Harry handed the parchment over to a rather confused but also elated choir leader. "What is this, Miss Evans?" Professor McCullagh asked curiously.
"It is the song I was supposed to learn with the choir I was part of a year or two ago," Harry answered with a small smile. "I tried to balance my music with my … duty, but it didn't really work out very well." She pointed to the song. "I have always kind of been disappointed I was not there to ever see it be performed or practise it as much as I wish so, why not combine it with the Macbeth chant?"
Professor McCullagh read through the song, her beaming smile becoming even brighter as she went along. "It's perfect!" The Charms professor looked up quite sharply. "Do you still know how to sing it?" she inquired eagerly, looking the young Slytherin Cursebreaker in the eyes.
"Yes, ma'am," Harry confirmed.
"How would you feel singing this as a solo part with our choir chanting the Weird Sisters' incantation?" the Charms professor asked.
Harry blinked rapidly and pulled a face as though she had heard her Charms professor say, 'would you mind wearing a frilly pink dress to class today?'. "What?" Harry squeaked.
Professor McCullagh raised an eyebrow. "Well, you know the song, correct?"
Harry could not argue there. "I do …"
"And the melody?"
Another win for McCullagh. "Yes, I know the melody."
"You also know how to play the violin."
Harry deflated a little. She could not wriggle her way out of this at all. "You know I do, ma'am."
"Then, I would really appreciate it if you would take the part of this song – it will save me and the choir a whole lot more stress and preparation than we are already under," Professor McCullagh stated, her eyes practically pleading. "Please?"
Harry cursed her inability to say no to most of her authority figures. "Very well."
"Harry, you bloody lifesaver," Ophelia sighed with relief as she jumped up from her seat to hug her friend, nearly snapping Harry's spine. "You too, Orion!"
"Better get rehearsing, Evans," Mulciber teased. "You only have until Sunday and you still have that top-secret-no-blabbing-allowed project to deal with."
"Sod off, Mulci," Harry grumbled. As if she needed more stress! "Why didn't McCullagh prepare the chant a week or two before Samhain? Seriously?"
"She usually does," Ophelia informed with a dark look. "But I think you may be onto something with Samhain having something strange about it because McCullagh is not usually this scatter-brained. This is actually the first time the choir hasn't been able to practise a chant more than a few weeks or months in advance."
Harry frowned. OK, odd. Very odd; must be the Samhain curse Harry brought with her!
The day once more seemed to fly by for Harry. The topic in Potions had been the Polyjuice Potion – she desperately had to compose herself to stop herself from laughing with glee. Poor Artemis had almost been rendered completely useless because Harry had worked on the potion with such gusto and ease. Transfigurations saw Dumbledore putting them through the wringer, asking them to Transfigure one object after the other, essentially combining topics that usually would have been covered separately. Normally it would have made students complain, but the Head of Gryffindor had insisted on some 'more light-hearted fun' as his way of apologising for his recent behaviour. Harry was almost disappointed that Dumbledore had managed to find the counter spell to her enchantments.
Remembering that Ignatius had suggested to Dumbledore to ask the walking encyclopaedia that was the Heir of Slytherin for the counter-charm, Harry decided to see if Tom had actually given his most hated professor the counter spell. She had slipped to Tom's side quite quickly after the lesson, determined to find out the answer. "Did you give Dumbledore the counter spell to his singing objects?"
Tom had smirked in response almost immediately. "Of course, my dear Harry. I could not refuse the old codger to his face or he would have suspected my involvement, which I already theorised he did in the first place."
Harry looked a little miffed. "You knew it was me?"
"Harry, it had your trademark all over it," Tom responded almost deadpan.
"You did not tell him it was me, though," Harry had frowned. "Why?"
"Why would I give you up to him? It was harmless fun, he deserved it and I owe the man nothing," Tom had stated firmly.
Herbology was actually relaxing: Professor Griffith covered the Flutterby Bush and its uses, and the Moly plants and their usage in the Wiggenweld Potion. The Herbology professor had many of his students in giggles as he told the story of a wizard prince using the Wiggenweld Potion to wake a princess who had been giving the Draught of Living Death by a hag called Leticia Somnolens by smearing the potion on his lips and kissing the princess, waking her. Harry had enjoyed just pruning her Flutterby Bush without having to worry about getting mauled or eaten or bitten, but was rather shocked by the strange mixture of lemon-and-lime and a scent of lavender coming from the plant. It had been a while since she had dealt with the Flutterby but knew that the scent had definitely changed.
Professor Merrythought was wholly embracing the spirit of Samhain during Defence Against the Dark Arts, her lesson being on Inferi, Poltergeists and the Chameleon Ghoul. Harry knew what Inferi were, of course, having had the displeasure of facing them first hand, and quietly suspected they would really hate her even more now because of her Mistress of Death status. Reviewing jinxes and curses to use on Poltergeists made Harry grin; the Langlock and Waddiwasi Jinxes had come rather in useful when it came to dealing with Peeves and Argus Filch in her own time. For all of his many faults, Snape had been a genius at spell creation and the spells the man invented had been imprinted into her mind.
Speaking of Peeves …
"La, la, la, la, ickie kiddies in the class reading up on monsters under the bed," the poltergeist sang as he glided into the room while the class were making notes about his kind. "Thinking they can defeat the big bad spookies! Nah, nah, nah!"
"Peeves, what did we say about you interrupting classes?" Merrythought snarled.
Peeves blew a rather extensive and impressive raspberry at the Defence professor. "Do not care, care not, you can't do anything about it!" he taunted.
"We can get the Bloody Baron," Harry commented out loud, still half focused on finishing the sentence she was writing.
Peeves stopped whizzing and looked straight at her and – somehow – his already pale complexion turned ashen even further. "Please no, ickle new kiddie! Not the Baron, or your friends. I promise them that-"
SHUT HIM UP RIGHT NOW! wailed both the Gryffindor and Slytherin voices in her head.
"Langlock!" Harry, barely looking in Peeves' direction, whipped out her wand in an instant, pointing it at Peeves.
The poltergeist clutched at his throat, looking panicked, gulped and then made several obscene gestures at her, owing to the fact he could not speak because his tongue had been glued to the roof of his mouth, before flying out of the room. Harry scoffed as she pocketed her wand in irritation.
"Stupid poltergeist," she grumbled to no one in particular as she went back to her note-taking.
One problem: in her haste to make sure the poltergeist could not accidentally let anything slip about the true identifies of her family friends, the Traveller momentarily forgot that she was in a class with twenty-nine other students and their teacher.
"Miss Evans?"
Harry raised her head and furrowed her brow slightly. "Yes, professor?"
Merrythought blinked at her. "What was that spell?"
Harry's eyes bugged out. Bugger.
"Eeeerm … it's a jinx I was taught by one of my tutors," Harry answered sheepishly, thinking on her feet for a plausible excuse. Technically it was true; the Half Blood Prince had been very helpful indeed without ever meaning to be. "He created it himself."
"A spell inventor as tutor?" Professor Merrythought laughed shortly. "You had some one-of-a-kind teachers, Miss Evans."
"Yes, ma'am," Harry agreed.
Fortunately, Professor Merrythought very soon had to move the topic onto Chameleon Ghouls to make sure all the information would be given in one lesson. Harry could still hear Hermione's babbling from second year about them when the running theory she, Harry and Ron had was that perhaps a Chameleon Ghoul had to be involved in the Chamber of Secrets fiasco since the Chamber had managed to go undetected for so long. Harry still doubted that Tom Riddle was the first to discover the Chamber in all the years of Hogwarts – the issue was, no one had written down any suspicions or if they did, the notes were likely lost to history.
Harry got permission from Merrythought to leave the class ten minutes early to be able to get to the Room of Requirement to prepare her lesson for the fifth years. Loreley, Orion and Heron were also allowed leave as they too had 'classes' to teach. The group chatted about the almost overload of information they had received that day; it seemed that the teachers were now also stepping up with their topic coverage as the end of October drew nearer.
"Well done for shutting Peeves up," Heron told Harry with a grin. "About someone did."
"How long does that jinx even last?" Orion asked eagerly.
"Long enough for everyone to enjoy some peace and quiet," Harry answered with a small smirk.
"Does it work on humans too?" Heron questioned eagerly.
Harry's peridot orbs shone with mischief. "Maybe," she grinned evilly.
The four seventh years arrived at the Room of Requirement, which had the mini school prepared for them. The group split up and went to their 'classrooms'. Harry wasted no time in putting some Silencing Charms around the class to make sure no noise from downstairs could disturb the class. She gathered together her notes, books and the primary sources on the two subjects she would be covering that lesson. Then, Harry laid out of the flashcards she prepared and put out the practise essay questions she had managed to find during a trip to the library that she took during lunch. The Traveller tried to ignore the pounding of her heart as she hummed – Harry wasn't afraid to admit that she was actually quite nervous. Teaching relative strangers from a different year group was different to teaching members of her own year or her friends.
At least Harry knew what to expect with them. She didn't know what to expect regarding the fifth years, especially now that she knew a Smith was amongst them. Just her bloody luck to be stuck with yet another snobby Smith. Fortunately, she was more than prepared to deal with unruly students.
The fifth years, led by War, soon came up the stairs for the lesson, looking around the room, trying to take everything in; they were still in absolute awe of the Room and its abilities. Harry greeted them with a bright smile. "Welcome to your first History of Magic session," she stated as her students took their seats. "Today we will first be discussing the witch hunts of the fourteenth century and the Werewolf Code of Conduct of 1637, since these two were by far the most mentioned. As we don't have much time, let's get cracking. So, let's begin with a few questions to see what all of you do know."
The Quick Fire Round, as Harry had named it, established further that the class struggled with remembering specifics about the trials, specifics about the John Decree and naming some prominent reasons why the werewolves failed to show up to sign the Werewolf Code of Conduct. Following this, beginning with the trials, Harry used a variation of her History Revelation spell to conjure for the class a visual image of the trails they were studying with as many of the prominent people featured in the images. As Harry went through the main points of the trials, indicating the pertinent people where necessary, the fifth years listened with rapt attention, taking notes or in some cases drawing the images in their textbooks, labelling the diagrams as they went along. When Harry encouraged them to study the three dimensional images up close, they had to take it in turns to go up because they all wanted to go. In the case of the trial of the Welsh bards of 1355, the class had been treated to a sample of the music the bards could theoretically have played that Harry had found in her new music tome. Even Smith could not keep his sour expression when listening to the music as the class bobbed their heads and moved along to the music in their seats.
Regarding the John Decree, Harry had gotten the entire class to test each other with flashcards since the topic was entirely based on knowing the different Articles. For the Werewolf Code of Conduct, Harry had taken yet another different approach. She had split the class up into two sides – one class represented the wizards present at the signing table, with a label around each student's neck with the name of the person on the front and the person's history on the back. The other half of the class represented the werewolves. The two sides were each meant to bring arguments for why the werewolves should or should not show up to the signing of the Code of Conduct. It was during this theatrical exercise, which Smith had vehemently protested to, that the students not only engaged in a heated historical debate – slightly unbeknownst to them – but Harry had used the blackboard to list the most commonly used arguments for both sides in academic debates that the children mentioned without so much as realising it. By the end of the exercise, there had been more than one eureka moment amongst the fifth years.
But naturally, there were some who still found something wanting in Harry's teaching.
"I don't see how any of this is going to help us regarding answering essay questions," Smith grumbled.
"How are we supposed to write essays if we don't know the basic information?" War had shot back at him.
Harry attempted to stop a fight from breaking out. "Mr. Smith does have an excellent point; you all will have to write essays on your exams. All of you have said that you find yourselves struggling with writing History ones so we will discuss the method that you need to always bear in mind. This goes for all essays, not just History ones: Point, Evidence and Explanation," she stated as she wrote the three conditions down on the board.
"P.E.E," one of the Gryffindor fifth years repeated, causing all the fifth years to burst into giggles of laughter. "Pee!"
Harry rolled her eyes but bit her cheek to stop herself from laughing too. "Yes, yes, very funny. As long as that helps you remember, I do not care. Now, if you are faced with a question that states something like this-"
Harry swiftly wrote: To what extent did the John Decree succeed in protecting wizard-kind from Muggle persecution during the 14th century?
Harry stepped back, "what would your answer be?"
For a moment, as the fifteen-year-olds studied the question, no one raised their hand until War decided to take a stab at the question and lifted her right hand slowly.
"Yes, War?" Harry beamed at her.
"Erm, I would say, 'despite the intentions behind and international backing of the John Decree, the extent to which it succeeded in protecting wizard-kind from Muggle persecution during the 14th century was arguably limited'," War answered slowly and carefully, formulating her answer as she went.
"Point. Now Evidence," Harry stated, beginning to pace.
War frowned for a moment. "'Wizard-kind were already implementing and following measures of concealment of their existence prior to the codification of the John Decree in 1320 as there had been a similar code of conduct established in 538 CE. Furthermore, the John Decree states that under Article 7 that 'when a Witch or Wizard doth fall into the hands of the Muddeblood risk not thy Head for a foolish endeavour', which can be deduced to mean 'do not rescue your fellow witch or wizard from the Muggles if they are caught'."
"Explanation."
"'The evidence is quite telling: the John Decree is not the first Code extant to try and protect wizard-kind from Muggle persecution and its Article 7 could be translated as a warning against rescuing other witches and wizards who have been caught, which sets the limitations on the extent the John Decree succeeded. Furthermore, the continuation of witch hunts in the 14th century provides further evidence for the limitations on the Decree's success as it was clear that wizard-kind continued to be revealed even after its passing.'"
"Not bad, War," Harry grinned. "Though I think you should mention the witch hunts in the Evidence section because otherwise it looks like an entirely new point came up from nowhere. That is the key with essay writing: consistency and constant linking back to earlier points. Otherwise, you risk losing marks because the poor sod marking the essay has lost the plot and we don't want that. Do you understand?"
War nodded vigorously, as did some of the other fifth years. Harry swished her wand, casting a nonverbal Tempus. 5.50pm.
"OK, it is almost dinner time! Brilliant job today, everyone. I am very pleased with the steps you have already made, so let's keep this up. Right, then – your Club work," Harry announced, the fifth years looking only slightly deflated at the prospect of added homework. Harry handed out the flashcards and the practise essay questions. "I want all of you to use the techniques we used today to revise anything you struggle with. For next lesson, I want you all to choose two of the four essay questions from the past exam papers and answer them. They are all 12 mark questions so I expect at least five different points to be mentioned. Try to answer them in one hour."
"ONE HOUR?!" the class chorused in horror.
"Your History exam will be no more than two hours long," Harry informed them. "You will be faced with first some quick questions about dates, numbers and figures, then a section on source analysis and the final section will be the essay section, which coincidentally has the most points out of the whole paper. If you struggle with time management, please – for the love of Merlin – start with the essay questions!"
The fifth years looked daunted but at the same time, they knew that one way or the other they'd have to face it. November only constituted mock exams but June was when their actual O.W.L.s would be – they needed to be prepared sooner rather than later. Harry was rather relieved that no one protested the task she set them.
"One question," another fifth year Hufflepuff spoke up. "Can we use our books for this task?"
Harry pursed her lips. "I would like for you to try and do it from memory first but if you really find yourself stuck then quickly check your books. However, this is not an open book exercise and I'm afraid I have spelled the essay questions to make sure it stays as such."
Yeah, it was safe to say none of the fifth years, War included, were too happy about that!
"I believe in you," Harry reassured her students. "You can do it."
The fifth years looked nervous. They filed out of the Room of Requirement, chatting amongst themselves as they headed for dinner. Harry, as she descended to the ground floor of the mini school, blinked at the oak and ash trees in the Ancient Runes section that she knew had not been there before. She met up with Loreley, Orion and Lestrange – all of whom looked quite tired but pleased.
"We covered Numerology today," Loreley was the first to report. "There were still a few shaky reductions in the calculations made here and there but overall, I think they seemed to get it. Fairweather has by far made the most progress already."
"One of ours mixed up the Runes for 'windfall' and 'waterfall'!" Orion wailed. "It is a good thing Heron had set up some precautionary protection Runes because otherwise the entire ground floor would have been flooded and everyone would have been blown up to the Astronomy classroom!"
"They also mistranslated 'ac' and 'æsc'," Heron sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "One is 'oak' and the other is 'ash'! They are two entirely different trees for the sake of Avalon's apple trees. They don't even sound the bloody same!"
"Let me guess, that's why there are two trees in your section," Harry giggled.
"Yes," both boys grumbled in sync.
"Perhaps the students in question are not linguistically inclined?" Loreley suggested.
"It was more down to poor wand movements and no eye for precision," Orion sulked.
"How did you fare with your History students?" Loreley then asked Harry eagerly.
Harry enthusiastically talked about her lesson all the way to the Great Hall, rolling her eyes when Loreley, Orion and Heron started to guffaw at the P.E.E. anagram as well. She would not allow that to take the wind out of her sails, though, and told them about the practise essay questions she had found in the library.
The other three had lit up at that. "Do you think the library has some for Ancient Runes?" Orion asked eagerly.
"No idea but we can check tomorrow," Harry replied with a grin as the four of them joined their friends at the Slytherin table where Mulciber, Artemis, Arcturus, Avery, Pucey, Bletchley and the Weasley twins were having yet another heated debate about Quidditch, which had forced Tom and Malfoy, both of whom hated Quidditch, to sit closer to Harry's friend group to avoid going catatonic because of the tedium they would have been subjected to.
"Harry!" Altair's face lit up as the four tutors approached; Tom and Artemis looked up in an instant too. "How was your first class?"
"Thanks, Nott. We exist too you know," Heron commented with a note of snark in his tone, rolling his eyes. Harry stifled her laughter at the sass he exuded. Heron, giving her a lopsided grin, sat down and got himself some soup.
Altair flushed red as a chuckle ran around the group. Harry smiled at Altair. "I admit I had been a little nervous but thanks to my prep work, it just … rolled after a while."
"What did you get them to do?" Tom asked curiously as he popped a cherry tomato into his mouth.
"Well I started off with a quick round of questions to see precisely where they struggled and went from the three topics that were glaringly obvious. I used three dimensional models, diagrams to help with explanations. Then I moved onto flash cards because the John Decree can only be studied by actually memorising the stuff from the books and what is written in it. Then I got them to embody the historical figures surrounding the Werewolf Code of Conduct."
"You got them to act?" Dolohov almost fell backwards in surprise. The unorthodox method also took some of the other Slytherins, including Tom and Malfoy, by surprise.
"Yes," Harry shrugged as she drank her pumpkin juice. She set her goblet down quite quickly though. "This club is also supposed to be fun, you know. Plus, think about it – it is one thing to read about History but to actually try and embody it, to put yourselves into the shoes of the people in question; it gives a completely different perspective. One that makes it more personal and because it becomes personal, it becomes easier to digest and remember."
"It was awesome!" War, who had heard snippets of the conversation, shouted from where she was sitting. "So, suck on a Liquorice Wand, Dolohov!"
Dolohov still looked appalled at the idea that Harry had made her students engage in theatrics but prudently kept his mouth shut on the matter for the rest of the evening. A good thing too because Harry had enough of a headache with balancing homework, coursework, studying, McCullagh's request, lesson planning and that stupid Gringotts project she was procrastinating on. Not to mention Harry had hoped she could find some time to get some extra Mistress of Death training in.
In the Slytherin common room that evening there was not one student over the age of fifteen who wasn't doing homework, coursework or studying. Harry, in her usual place in front of the fireplace, started on homework first, moved onto her Herbology dissertation and then finally practised In Noctem with Ophelia singing the Weird Sisters' Chant in their dorm for a bit to make sure the surprise wasn't ruined for the rest of the House. Extra Silencing Charms had been put on the dorm just in case, especially when Harry coached Ophelia's high notes here and there. The Lady Regnant had even dared to take out her ancestor's violin to make sure both she and Ophelia kept in tune.
Both girls could not practise for long, though, as Walburga, Druella and Ygraine soon came in, hoping to get an early night.
"Professor McCullagh wants us in the choir room at lunch tomorrow for extra practise together. Is that OK?" Ophelia had asked before heading for her own four-poster.
Harry nodded. "Absolutely."
Walburga and Ygraine were the first to be taken into the Realm of Hypnos, with Seraphina, Athenaïs, Sigyn and Druella not too far behind. Ophelia eventually went to sleep with her Potions textbook still on her chest, clearly knocked out after some extra Potions revision. Harry, however, had somehow managed to resist the urge to sleep for one reason.
The amount of powerful magic that was radiating from her trunk that did not belong to any of her weapons. Whatever the goblins had contained the thing in, it wasn't powerful enough to suppress all of the object's power. Harry had tried to ignore the pulsing of the magic within but for some reason, it was now more difficult to ignore.
Against her better judgement, Harry had tiptoed over to her trunk, quietly unlocked it, took the box out of the trunk – still covered by her Invisibility Cloak – and gathered a few of her more Darker books together, putting them into her bag. She swung her Invisibility Cloak over her shoulders, tucking the box under arm and picking up her bag. With a sense of begrudging determination, Harry left her dorm, exited the common room and made her journey towards one of the dragon statues that she knew had a secret passageway out of the castle, thanks to what she remembered from the Marauder's Map.
Harry knew to take the gag order seriously. She could not risk taking one of the classrooms just in case an interfering Prefect, ghost, or Head Boy and Girl caught her. Peeves right now was not happy with her so he could definitely pose a problem. The Room of Requirement, since more people knew about it now, was also off-limits. She could have used the Serpentine Corridor on the third floor, the place where Ghoul Studies had been given during her time and was home to other classrooms, but even Harry was not that brave to venture down there.
There was one other place no one would dare to disturb her, though: the Forbidden Forest. Yes, it was dangerous – but that was precisely why it was perfect. It meant the only people who could pose an issue were the teachers. Considering she was concealed under her Invisibility Cloak, it was unlikely that the staff were making a trip to the forest.
The large, dark forest to the east of the castle greeted Harry imperiously, slight flashbacks to her facing Voldemort and his Death Eaters in the clearing that was once Aragog's home flitting before her eyes. As Harry made her way into the dark depths of the forest, she heard the sound of owls hooting, bats squeaking and the distant sound of hippogriffs and Thestrals in their paddocks. Eventually Harry came to a halt in front of the gazebo where she and the girls practised their Occlumency. In the daylight, the thing was beautiful; at night, it was positively ethereal.
Harry set her bag and the box down and took the Invisibility Cloak from her shoulders. Just in case some nosy or belligerent centaurs would come by, Harry set up some extra security wards and privacy spells. Then the young Cursebreaker turned her attention on the box and immediately set up a containment cell around it before opening it. Harry could see that there was a dossier, a couple of old journals and a scarlet cloth covering a dome-shaped object.
With a non-verbal Wingardium Leviosa, Harry carefully took the objects out of the box, not daring to touch anything as yet, setting them all gently on the ground again. She then turned her attention first onto the dossier. TOP SECRET – FOR UNSPEAKABLE EYES ALONE had been stamped on in big red letters on the front, reaffirming to Harry that the gag order had not been a sick prank on Gringotts' part.
Swallowing slightly, Harry flipped it open.
File S5/23, Tempus Section, Unspeakable 84982
ALBERT RODERICK HIGGS
Code name: Hourglass
Position: Deputy Head of Project Leapfrog
Current Assignment: REDACTED
Place of birth: Edinburgh, Scotland
Date of birth: 11 April 1899
Marital Status: Married
Children: Three
Citizenship: British
Languages: English, French, German, Russian, Scots Gaelic
Harry continued to go through the boxes of information printed in the dossier, then moved onto the reports and letters. She found that the more she dug and read further, more and more of the text on each page had been redacted. It came to the point almost entire pages had been redacted, especially when it came to anything that regarded Project Leapfrog! Whatever this Project Leapfrog was, the Department of Mysteries seemed to be very keen to keep it as secret as they could manage. She had tried to get the Redaction Charm off the documents with some of the more powerful Revelation Spells in the books she had brought with her, but whatever magic had been put on each report or letters persisted stubbornly.
Whoever had been in charge of redaction had put fail-safe after fail-safe onto the sensitive information; it was annoying at how fastidious and meticulous this person had been. It was going to make Harry's life a little bit more difficult.
It was then she turned her attention onto the tatty journals that had come with the dossier and the dome. The Mistress of Death opened one, hoping that perhaps it could be more useful than the dossier itself. However, the journal just contained page after page of Arithmantic calculations that Harry could not suss out, which meant relating them to the Runic sentences practically impossible. Harry had never been so furious that she could not go to Loreley for help. Bloody stupid gag order!
The Cursebreaker quickly put this journal to one side and then picked up the second one. This journal was at least something she could work with, because they contained Higgs' inner thoughts. The gentleman had cleverly used a charm to scramble his writing but Harry had enough experience with them due to passing secret messages between herself, Hermione and Ginny, so she had quickly gotten rid of the Charm on the journal. It was rather embarrassing, actually. It was very clear Hourglass didn't put as much effort into his Charm work as he did in his Arithmantic and Runic work.
For the first few pages – around ten or so, maybe more – the entries were rather mundane and conveyed nothing of particular importance. Complaints about his wife, complaints about having to stop working in order to eat and sleep, and complaints about falling standards inside the Department of Mysteries. It was when Harry got to the entries for October that things started to get interesting.
October 1, 1944,
Project Leapfrog is well underway, and if anyone discovers what I am writing I could be in great doo-doo, but I confess to being restless. I discussed with Eos and Chroma about the progress of our endeavours and talked at length about the faults in our practices, especially in the mistakes that we have already made in our Craft. Chroma correctly pointed out that with improved calculations our capacity to Travel could be pushed further than we ever thought possible. I have already got a few theories I want to try out; I think I will get onto that as soon as I am able. Eos is not entirely convinced, but then again she has always been a pessimist. None of us are Travellers – we are not even sure if such people exist, by Merlin – so we will just have to work with what we have. There really are days I despise the imperfections of the human race.
Harry had frowned considerably at this and turned the page, now very curious to see what the next entry would say.
October 9, 1944,
My calculations are coming along slowly and painfully but I believe I can get started on a prototype very soon! If everything goes swimmingly, we will be able to claim to have brought our Craft to a new level to be explored and no longer will there be doubts upon historical events. The historians will simply be able to see for themselves; we could all become Travellers! I do know that I will have to create a device that is multi-layered – one for hour, date and year. These layers will need to be crafted carefully; one slight mishap and our own timeline could be put into danger. Another note, Melissa has been demanding I come home again – naturally, she has no idea what I am up to, only that I am working later than normal. She is complaining about the children being difficult. I wish I could be there to help her but this is just too important.
October 15, 1944,
The device is active! It hums with a power I have never felt before. It is wonderful; all our other Time Turners absolutely pale in comparison to it. I cannot wait to see how it works; I just need to see if my fastidious superiors will agree to a preliminary testing phase. I have a good feeling about this. We are on the cusp of a whole new world!
October 17, 1944,
Something does not feel right. I tried to make amendments to the device but it seems to have rejected the spells I have placed upon it. Why? How? Did something go wrong in my calculations? I could have sworn not one number was out of place …
Harry's heart skipped multiple beats as she read this, her hands having to tighten their hold on the journal in an attempt to stop them from shaking. Harry dreaded turning the page, but she forced herself to do so.
October 18
I … I think I hear it speak to me … speak to me … maybe I need sleep. Have not been sleeping well. Melissa is right; I need rest.
From here, the journal entries became erratic and so badly written that Harry thought that perhaps Mr. Higgs had been taken over by some eldritch being from Lovecraftian horror. Ink blotted all over the pages and there were things that just didn't make any sense. But this Unspeakable had been experimenting with some kind of Time Magic, that much was certain, and had tried to provide wizard-kind with the power of a Traveller, which made Harry physically want to vomit.
A wizard had been actively messing with Time Magic and, apparently, had slowly but surely lost his damn mind. He claimed the thing could speak to him. No wonder Harry had been put under a gag order! If this got out, there would be widespread panic. What in damnation happened for this to land on Gringotts' lap and now hers?!
Harry's eyes gravitated to the pulsating dome and she steeled her Occlumency shields almost instinctively. Taking a few breaths, the Cursebreaker took the cover off the dome with a flick of her wand. Underneath the cloth was a glass dome that was glowing with Runes – another suppression chamber – and inside was a golden device made out of quite high quality metal in the shape of what she guessed was a compass. Harry edged cautiously to the edge of her containment cell to try and have a closer look at the symbols on the compass. To her surprise, there were strange symbols all the way around – Harry had not taken Astronomy in years but could tell all of them at least had some astronomical significance.
Harry was quickly facing a dilemma: in order to study the thing, she needed to get up close. However, the device was now behind two containment cells, which would make very close study next to impossible. She really did not want to get up close and personal with a sentient – possibly – Time Turning device but it seemed, there was possibly no other way around it.
The Lady Regnant eventually made the decision to keep her own containment cell up but to remove the dome, drawing the compass closer to her, but made sure it was still tucked away safely behind bars. Almost as soon as the dome had been removed from the Time Turning compass, Harry felt her magic begin to hum and zoom around her body, ready to strike at the slightest provocation, as the magic of the device radiated with much more power than it did before. Indeed, it was a very good thing that the compass was still contained or Harry's magic would likely have attacked in an instant.
Then the daughter of Prongs heard the fluttering of the dust inside the compass, in a manner that almost sounded akin to hissing. She braced herself for anything as she drew her wand and cast the History Revelation spell on it. The golden images coagulated into the image of a tired, ragged man in his forties, bent over a work bench that could have been a scene from a Steampunk story. The work bench was in a mess, the lines under his eyes were deep and dark and Harry saw a madness in those eyes that she had not even seen in Voldemort's eyes before. Hourglass started to grip his head and thrash around wildly. The compass sat on that workbench utterly immobile but considering it apparently could talk, Harry hypothesised quickly the damn thing must have used some kind of telepathic power.
It was almost at this precise moment that she felt something start hitting against her Occlumency shields, trying to slip through the tiniest crack it could find. In an instant, Harry built up some extra fortifications in the shape of a mental, gnarled forest of thorns.
However, whatever it was had managed to sneak past a small crack in her new thorny defences.
You are not entirely normal, are you?
The voice in her head was smarmy, more arrogant and aloof than even the voices of the Horcruxes belonging to Voldemort had been. Out of the voice of the Horcrux belonging to Slytherin's locket and the voice belonging to the Time Turning compass, the former would have been the better dinner date based on the voice alone, Harry decided quite quickly.
I could say the same about you, Harry thought back. Invading a person's mind without permission – that's just bad manners.
The dust in the compasses started swirl and flutter harder. It was at that moment a chill went up Harry's spine; it hit her quickly that the damn thing was laughing.
Touché, witch. So, the fools at the magical human government handed me to a child?
I am no child, Harry retorted with a small scoff.
No, I suppose you are not, the compass agreed lazily. You feel different; your mind is different. OWW! These damn thorns! Did you have to make them so spikey? As I was saying – you are already different to the weakling who created me. Aren't you … Traveller?
Harry smirked at the shock she heard in the tone. Caught off-guard? she asked in a faux-sweet tone.
Well, this does complicate matters, the compass stated out loud, sounding more like it was talking to itself.
How is it you can talk? Harry demanded.
Believe it or not, the incompetent who made me accidentally incorporated an equation into my design that allows me to communicate with … potential clients, the compass chuckled. But I suppose you have no need of me, being a Traveller and all. But then again – I do have other uses.
Other uses?
Harry dared to repeat, clenching her jaws. Like what? Other than causing your own creator to go mad?
The compass did not answer her. Instead, Harry heard some gears inside the damn thing begin to whir and the dust inside it begin to flutter around so much they sounded like the wings of a large group of bats. Harry had her wand at the ready, but lowered it as she heard music of all things coming from the device. Harry knew the song anywhere.
# A silver hue on wings of blue,
As all around me,
Shadows dance in light
Sun is high above,
And winds are still enough,
And all I want do is stay,
For seven days,
They make the sky,
Look down upon them,
As they go their way,
Sun is high above,
And winds are still enough,
And all I want do is stay,
For seven nights,
They wait the moment,
For the morning light to come again,
Sun is high above,
And winds are still enough,
And all I want do is stay,
And one by one,
They wander one by one,
Meander never go astray,
Sun is high above,
And winds are still enough,
And all I want do is stay #
But it was the voice that sang the song that made Harry fall to her knees. She knew to whom the haunting, eerie, whimsical voice belonged to anywhere. Luna! Luna! The damn thing was playing the song that Luna had sung while trying to calm Harry's nerves during fifth year and was using her voice. It was the song Harry had used to make the Cobra Lilies cry during detention. The damn thing knew! How in the hell did it know what Luna sounded like?
How … are you doing this? Harry hissed, feeling rage coursing through her veins.
Don't you want to see her again? Hear her sing for you one more time? I can help with that…
"Get. Out. Of. My. HEAD!" Harry roared, flinging up as many mental drawbridges as she could and created more mental thorns as she could, her eyes bleeding silver with rage, lightning spreading out in all directions. A few bolts had hit against the containment cell and disappeared. The tear ducts in her eyes had filled rapidly but Harry forced them not to fall.
As soon as the Traveller felt the presence of the Time Compass out of her head, she had practically slammed the dome back on top of the damn thing, dumped all the paper material into the box, put the dome-encased compass back in and engraved as many containment runes as she could possibly manage to suppress what little power was still leaking out.
Harry was on her feet, heaving heavily, as though she had run a marathon as she took her containment cell down from around the box, her heart pounding so hard in her chest Harry was genuinely concerned that someone could hear it from the castle. The Cursebreaker staggered back a few paces to the entrance to the gazebo, leaning against one of the posts, white hot fury cascading through her body along with a serious amount of adrenaline.
The Lady Regnant of House Peverell slid down the post and sat down on the top stairs, trying desperately to catch her breath. She could still hear the echoes of Luna's gentle, silvery voice running through her head, and she hated it. Damn it, damn it, damn it! The thing had gotten to her, almost immediately. Foolish Harry, foolish!
Harry felt the Link between her and Thanatos open up. Harry, what on Gaia's green surface was that?
Cursed time compass,
Harry responded with bitter frustration. Someone had been messing with Time Magic. The damn thing knew exactly how to get to me.
It knows what you are, Thanatos deduced immediately.
That I am a Traveller? Yes.
As if your life could not get complicated enough as it is, Thanatos sighed.
Indeed.
"Excuse me, are you OK?"
Harry jumped almost five feet into the air with shock as she heard a young, male voice with a slight clicking sound behind his voice ring out, knocking her out of her conversation with Thanatos. She almost jumped another five feet when she saw that the owner of the voice was a giant spider the size of a St. Bernard dog, watching her with what looked like a curious look in all of its glassy eyes. Harry could barely control her speech patterns at this point so what she answered was, "agggieeggagaahhh!"
The Acromantula stared at her in what could only be deduced as shock before speaking up. "Is that a yes or a no? I am not familiar with this language."
Harry gathered her mouth up from the ground. "Sorry," she answered carefully. "That wasn't a foreign language … I just didn't expect to be addressed by a talking spider."
"You haven't met many Acromantulas, have you?" the giant spider guessed, approaching with caution.
"I met a few, but they didn't really like me," Harry admitted with a slight laugh. "Some of them tried to eat me."
"Oh. That's unfortunate. It is usually in our nature, though, I'm afraid," the Acromantula replied with a slight tone of sympathy. "But are you all right?"
"Not really," Harry scoffed, shaking her head. "I have a job to do and …" She sighed deeply. "I honestly don't know if I can do this one."
"Why is that?"
Harry looked at the Acromantula fully this time. "It's complicated."
"Learning human speech was complicated," the spider informed her. "But my friend very patiently helped me to learn. He would read to me and let me listen to singing humans to help me."
Harry smiled genuinely at this. "Did he?"
"Yes. He was one of you, a student in the castle. But he had to leave," the Acromantula stated, drooping quite a bit in sadness. "He promised to come back but so far … he has not returned."
Suddenly, a strong sense of déjà vu struck Harry like a freight train. Eyes slightly wide, she swallowed. "Well, I'm afraid I am literally not allowed to talk about my issue. What is your name?" she asked cautiously.
"Oh, I forgot to introduce myself; Hagrid said that humans like that. Sorry for being rude. My name is Aragog," the Acromantula answered in much more of a friendly tone than when Harry had met him in 1992. "What is your name?"
"Hera. Hera Evans, but everyone calls me Harry," Harry responded with a small smile. "Nice to meet you, Aragog."
The young Aragog decided to approach her a little more but was still very careful not to move too fast just in case he would spook the young witch. "Why do you go by a different name than the one you were born with?"
Harry smiled sadly and hung her head. "That has a longer story than you might think."
"I have time," Aragog reassured. "I spend most of my time exploring the forest and trying to avoid the angry half-man, half-horse people called centaurs. They don't particularly like me. I have a hollow that I live in but I am … lonely, as humans say."
Harry went soggy with sympathy in an instant. "I am sorry to hear that, Aragog. You don't have any animal friends?"
To her surprise, the young Acromantula visibly wilted at that.
"I scare everyone away," Aragog confessed sadly. "No one likes my kind, which is why they thought I killed a human girl two years ago."
Moaning Myrtle.
Harry swallowed. "But you didn't?"
"No," the giant spider shuddered. "I didn't, but no one cares. No one believed Hagrid either because he is different, just like me."
"I see," Harry answered rather tensely. Hagrid was a half-giant and not that bright; in the 1940s, different did not cover what Hagrid was! Plus, the Horcrux had been right about one thing: it had been Voldemort's word against the word of someone who was effectively a social pariah. "Where is your friend now?"
"No idea, but the funny bearded man with colourful clothes said he would help him get back," Aragog replied.
That made Harry's brow furrow in an instant. There was only one person who fitted that description. Dumbledore had promised Hagrid to find a way back after being expelled? Why? Although Harry was happy that Hagrid had been there in her time, hearing this from the young Aragog suddenly sent the wheels in her head turning.
Dumbledore never did anything if there was nothing in it for him. This promise had not been made from the goodness of the man's heart, Harry knew that for certain. But it was not something she was about to say to the emotionally vulnerable Aragog.
"Hey, Aragog, I have to go back to the castle soon," Harry stated. The spider actually looked disappointed! "But I do have a familiar – an animal friend. She's a little different too. Her name is Athenaïs and she's a Gargouille."
"A dragon?" Clearly Hagrid had been teaching Aragog about other creatures!
"Yes, but she isn't that big. She has a growth defect," Harry explained. "Athenaïs enjoys hunting and being outdoors; it also seems like she is making friends with some of the other familiars belonging to my friends. Shall I ask her if she wants to meet you?"
Aragog brightened in an instant. "I'd love to meet her!"
Harry grinned brightly. "Good. Then I will gather my things-"
"May I walk a bit with you, Harry?" Aragog, to her surprise, had donned the Acromantula version of the Pout of Doom.
Harry did not have the heart to say no. The entire trip to the edge of the Forest, Aragog talked Harry's ears off about the box he had been kept in and how cold the store room had been, and how his favourite moments of the day was when Hagrid would read to him. The Acromantula was clearly happy to have someone to talk to and the Traveller found that she slowly became more and more at ease as she heard more about the back story of Aragog growing up in a box down in the Hogwarts dungeons.
She bade Aragog a goodnight – nearly cooing out loud at how cute Aragog's wave was – and then with bag and box in tow slipped back under her Cloak and headed towards the castle.
###############################
It was at around one o'clock in the morning when Tom Riddle made his way back from the Room of Requirement to the Slytherin dungeons, having just spent hours once more trying to cast the Patronus Charm. Having gathered some new memories, Tom had decided to try his hand once more at the difficult Light Charm. Samhain was fast approaching; that meant his deadline was drawing nearer too.
First, the ambitious Dark wizard had tried his luck with the memory of Harry choosing to trust him and the others enough with the truth behind her wound and the rescue mission she had participated in the evening that she had disappeared. The result was, to Tom's surprise and delight, at least a bright glowing orb that had lasted for around thirty seconds. It had been better than the wisps he had conjured the last thirty times!
Second, Tom had tried the memory of Dumbledore having to grovel for a possible solution to Harry's enchantment on his possessions, the one that made them start singing sea shanties whenever the men spoke. That time, Tom had managed to get an even brighter and bigger orb that had lasted for around a minute! But still, nothing that looked like a shield or a corporeal. That had not pleased the overachieving and perfectionistic Tom at all. He knew that this particular memory wasn't happy enough but still …
His third and fourth tries, using the memories of Harry conjuring butterflies to vex Dumbledore and Frey talking endlessly how she had made friends with some familiars despite fearing she wouldn't be able to, being a python and all, had managed to produce glowing orbs of varying sizes and lasting about the same amount as attempt number two. But to the Head Boy, this simply would not do.
Why are we wasting our time on this? We want to be the greatest Dark wizard; why are we wasting our time with Light magic? the eerie, nasty voice in his head had sneered at least five times.
No, we want to be the greatest sorcerer in the world, Light magic included, the other half of his subconscious had sneered right back, much to Tom's own surprise. In order to achieve that, we need to get the Patronus right!
The young boy had then decided to sit on the floor for a good while, meditating on which memory to use next, several of which included Harry and her friends. After what had felt like an eternity, Tom had surprised himself by opting to use the memory of his Knights and Harry's friends teasing the Lady Regnant and making bets against her eating a cute dragon cake. The Dark wizard could not help but keep the grin off his face as he thought about it. He closed his eyes. Everyone at ease; Harry's peridot eyes dancing with irritation and amusement. The memory of Harry playing music in Mr. Meret's store soon joined this memory. Not a single thought about murder, vengeance, hatred. A moment's peace. "Expecto Patronum!"
Tom reopened his eyes, holding his breath, but was rather relieved to see that a small shield spreading out in front of him. It wasn't too big but it was a shield nonetheless! But he found that it didn't last for more than a minute, which wasn't good in a full scale Dementor attack like the one the Lady Regnant had fended off. That didn't entirely matter to Tom – he was on the way to getting it!
Deciding to call it a night, Tom had made the journey back with his thoughts almost entirely on Harry's latest assignment and the gag order. He had tried to be as nonchalant about it as he could, but in actuality he had been as concerned and furious as Black, Potter and Nott had been. Partly it was because he could not offer his services, or get to know any detail about it, but it was also the fact that the Lady Regnant was likely in grave danger.
Tom had felt the urge to commit murder when Ophelia mentioned that no one was allowed to help Harry, not even able to bring her to a hospital if she needed one. He had not felt like that in a long while, not since he killed his Muggle family in a fit of blind rage. All Tom knew was that the goblins would live to regret it if anything happened to Harry.
Then the Heir of Slytherin saw something rather odd: the entrance to the Slytherin common room simply opened, without anyone standing there or a password being said. Tom had to blink a couple of times to make sure he didn't see things. Maybe he was overdoing things? He almost believed he was seeing things, until he saw the door to the seventh, sixth and fifth girls' dormitories open and then close again with no one going in or out.
This was the second time he saw something like that happen this year.
What was going on?
Tom frowned and smirked to himself slightly. It seemed yet another mystery was afoot.
#######################################
So Tom actually managed to conjure a shield for the first time! The Revision Club has begun – poor Orion and Heron almost had a heart attack – and Harry has finally come mind to mind with the Time Compass. Not only that, Aragog has made an appearance! How will it go from here? Is Professor Babbling's illness an omen? Does Professor Chattox have a point about being wary about the Veil thinning? Stay tuned to find out!
As usual, the song included in this chapter belongs to Enya and I am simply building this castle from the bricks belonging to JK Rowling. I am sorry if it took long for me to update - my SO and I had guests in our houses that needed entertaining!
Orion: I really hope I don't start getting silver hairs.
Gellert: I think silver would suit you.
Orion: No one asked you!
Gellert *pouting*: Meanie. By the way can you ask Harry to give me the Singing Charm? I want to try it on Credence.
Oh dear…
See you next time!
Kingmaker'sUmbreon