"ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴜᴛʜ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱᴇʟꜰ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴇʟʟ ɪᴛ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ."
― ᴠɪʀɢɪɴɪᴀ ᴡᴏᴏʟꜰ
Chapter Four: Second Sight
Ruby slowly peeled her eyes open to meet the usual dimness of the Slytherin Dungeon. The lights had flicked on a few minutes ago, signifying that it was light outside, too.
Hephaestus was still curled up at the foot of her bed. Every so often, he shifted uneasily in his sleep, tail swishing irritably.
She sat up, the sheets pooling between her knees, taking note of a piece of parchment that hadn't been on her bedside table last night.
Please come see me after breakfast.
The handwriting was unmistakably Dumbledore's. Expecting only further bad news, Ruby crumpled the paper in her fist and got out of bed.
Upon the expectation that she would return after her disappearance second year, Professor McGonagall had gifted her clothes to wear that weren't her school uniform since she hadn't had barely anything to wear for a good part of first year. There were some Muggle clothes, mostly sensible things like slacks and a black skirt and button-down blouses in a few different colours, as well as plain off-white robes in linen (for the summer, apparently) and more ornate ones in a dusty purple (dress robes, she was told).
The robes, she imagined, were both a bit pretentious, and therefore, she'd been rotating out the Muggle clothes rather than go traipsing around the castle in what was essentially a floor-length white gown.
In the past year, her hair had grown in a dense, sweltering mass of curls nearly halfway down her back. She'd entertained the idea of chopping it off at the shoulder for a while, but the thought that Petunia would have hated it long stopped her.
Maybe someone'll bring Sleekeazy's with them. I could trade for it.
Tomorrow, everyone would arrive back at school. That was the best case.
Some people may be missing.
She could only cling to the selfish hope that it wasn't anyone close to her.
Stuffing the thought in the back of her mind, she reached for her shoes and prepared to head out.
The corridor outside echoed emptily; if she had a different disposition, it might have been disconcerting, but Ruby paid it no mind as she went up the stairs.
The Giant Squid could be seen swimming around through one of the larger windows. Not fond of its beady stare, Ruby reached up to the glass to scare it off; the creature glowered back at her unintelligently before it floundered off.
And what could Dumbledore want from me?
Ruby continued to ponder this as she left the common room, stopping for a brief conversation with the Bloody Baron, who'd always been fond of her, on her way to the Great Hall.
When she arrived, she made a beeline to Harry and began her interrogation.
"Did you get a note?"
Harry wrinkled his nose, pushing bits of toast around on his plate.
"What note?"
"I got one from Dumbledore this morning," said Ruby, mechanically slicing her boiled egg. "Think I'm in trouble?"
"I think you passed that point a long time ago," Harry noted dryly.
"Right. Heard anything?"
Harry shook his head. Ruby bristled. Even if there were something to hear, he wouldn't know; he'd been too busy stalking Riddle, who was all but a ghost. Impressive, given that he had neither a wand nor an Invisibility Cloak.
Speaking of Invisibility Cloaks, perhaps he'd made one for himself, except Ruby didn't know how he would manage to get his hands on Demiguise hair.
A few minutes later, she had finished the egg and was staring morosely at her empty plate. She stood up, and Dumbledore did, too, beckoning her to follow him out of the Great Hall.
Neither spoke. They began to take a familiar path; towards Dumbledore's office.
"Toothflossing Stringmints," said Dumbledore to the gargoyles guarding the staircase, and they sprang apart. "After you, Ruby."
She put a hand on the bannister and began to climb the stairs, each step resounding against the stone. The narrow staircase opened up into a large and circular sun-stained room; the inhabitants of the paintings, as usual, were asleep. Out of habit, Ruby selected her favourite chair and sat down; Dumbledore sat behind his desk.
"Glacial Snowflake?" He gestured to a bowl of sparkling white marzipan snowflakes dotted with sugar.
"They're not very seasonal," Ruby noted but took one anyway. She broke an edge off and tasted it tentatively. Just like a real snowflake, it melted in her mouth almost instantly.
"Quite," Dumbledore agreed, "but one can't help but cheat sometimes."
He waited a mere five seconds before continuing, "About Tom Riddle... I ought to ask you a question which I had hoped not to."
Her stomach flipped over, and her fingers fidgeted over the edges of the sugar snowflake.
"What question?"
Something compelled her to look up at him; Dumbledore's gaze behind his half-moon spectacles was steely.
"Have you ever heard the word Horcrux?"
I must not lie. Dumbledore was a Legilimens, after all. He might know if she had, even though Nott Senior's infamous charmed monocle was in her pocket.
"Yes," said Ruby truthfully.
Dumbledore started a little. "Where?" he queried, peering at her yet more intensely.
Ruby looked down at the snowflake in her lap. "I had... I had a vision."
"Professor Trelawney has told me that you are a quick study at Divination. What manner of vision was it?"
She lifted her head. "I scryed it in a black lake, in the cave you told me about. I saw Voldemort—" Ruby swallowed uneasily; the knowledge felt forbidden "—killing Regulus Black there. Regulus said Voldemort made one of those, a Horcrux, that it was forbidden and even Grindelwald wouldn't touch it — that it was pure evil."
Dumbledore was silent for a while. Then he nodded.
"I believe you, Ruby," he said heavily. "Is that all that you saw? Have you scryed anything of Voldemort again? Or before?"
"Well, I scryed Te— him first year, on Walpurgis Night, before I even knew who he was."
"I shall set up private lessons with Professor Trelawney so that you can be guided," said Dumbledore, his expression intent. "This talent of yours is rare and may prove useful. Up til now, no one has known what became of Regulus Black."
"Everyone says Divination is woolly and a lot of guesswork," Ruby began to protest. "Something like Ancient Runes, on the other hand—"
Dumbledore gave her a stern, disapproving stare. "Do not be foolish. True Seers are rare, and their skills invaluable. If your gift proves to be scant, we shall not pay it mind. But I understand where your hostility comes from, that the root of your and your brother's misfortunes arise from a prophecy."
How did he know, Ruby wondered. Legilimency, or simply common sense? Did everyone see the source of her hesitance?
"I've only seen the past and present so far, but I know two things, Professor. I never want to see my parents die, and I never want to see a terrible future I can't prevent."
"Can't you?"
"That's what it is to be a Seer, isn't it? If I do turn out to be one, doesn't that mean everything I see is fated to happen?"
"Ah," said Dumbledore, "there's the rub. Can you run in the opposite direction from your destiny, or must you always take the path foreseen?"
"Which is it, sir?" asked Ruby, but he didn't answer. "What's a Horcrux, then?"
Now, anger passed over his face, darkening his features.
"There are questions I will not answer, Ruby. That is one of them. Know only this — that it is against nature and the pinnacle of evil, the Darkest and most selfish of spells ever created, and that Regulus Black was right — not even a Dark Lord would touch it."
"It's something that makes Voldemort stronger?"
Dumbledore winced, looking as if he was trying to determine whether or not to answer that. "Yes. But that is all that you need to know."
He cleared his throat. "I do have a request for you."
"What, Professor?" asked Ruby, fidgeting again.
"Keep your eyes open this year, as you have always done, and wait for my instructions," he said. "You will report to me — especially if Tom attempts to contact you. And if he does, do try to entertain him. There are things that neither I nor Minerva nor Poppy have been able to coax out of him which you might."
"About Horcruxes?"
"Precisely."
How can he call him Tom so frivolously, as if he's only an ordinary boy deep down?
And further, she wondered:
Is it the same way he can look at me, even though I'm a murderer, too?
"You should have been in Slytherin, Professor Dumbledore," said Ruby, hoping to get a response from him. "No one ever knows what you're thinking."
Now, Dumbledore looked amused, a light smile playing on his face. "You may be correct; I often say that we Sort too soon."
Not quite what she had been hoping for. But Ruby nodded and nibbled at another sugary corner of her Glacial Snowflake. Maybe lessons with Trelawney wouldn't be so awful.
After all, she could simply fail on purpose.
Harry made his way down the main staircase, stopping when he noticed Ruby sitting on one of the steps, her knees drawn up to her chin and chewing on her hair.
"That's disgusting," he said and sat beside her.
"Helps me de-stress."
"I know. It's still disgusting."
She made a vague noise of irritation.
"One 'til five."
"They're not due until five," Harry asserted, trying to still his own anxiety.
Just then, the chimes of a non-existent bell sounded: once, twice, thrice, four times, five times.
In that instant, a great crowd of students materialised before them, each holding a Hogwarts letter, most with a disgruntled animal in tow and dressed in travelling cloaks. Since they hadn't been Sorted yet, the first-years scrambled about to find their luggage from its spot against the wall, whilst everyone second year and above was tearing through the crowd to find their friends and Housemates. Harry hurried down the last few steps and joined the fray, nudging his way through.
A cloud of bushy hair came barrelling towards him with the force of a bullet, accompanied by a furious yowl from Crookshanks.
"You're alive!"
"Of course I'm alive!" said Hermione. "You weren't really worrying all summer about us, were you? I've sent loads of letters to the Weasleys and Anthony, they're alright too, and Ron says he's seen Cedric a few times."
Even though the relief, Harry couldn't help but feel a bit resentful; they'd all been exchanging correspondence all summer, and he and Ruby had been left entirely in the dark.
The crowd began to thin out, and Ruby came up to them, looking cross.
"Nott managed to get back alive." Her lips pressed into a furious line. "Tracey Davis wasn't so lucky. She got Kissed last month."
Harry had only vaguely known Davis; he'd certainly never spoken to her. She was a half-blood like him and Ruby, and she'd slunk around the castle during Umbridge's reign, cowed and frightened.
Daphne Greengrass, who'd been one of her closest friends, looked a little dead in the face and red around the eyes as if she'd been crying for days. For the first time, Harry felt some sympathy for one of his sister's Housemates.
"Tracey's a Slytherin," Hermione pointed out.
"Do you think Dementors ask what House you're in before they suck out your soul?" asked Ruby archly.
Hermione shook her head as if attempting to clear it.
"Anyway... who's Defence?"
"You'll never guess," said Ruby, with relish.
"Sirius," said Harry, not fond of guessing games.
Hermione seized Harry's sleeve. "I know Dumbledore trusts him, but he's letting him teach? And Defence of all things!"
"It's no big feat to follow Umbridge," said Harry dryly. "I think he'll manage."
"I suppose we'll go in?" asked Hermione, settling Crookshanks down delicately. Harry watched the cat amble off, unretracted claws clacking against the stone floors.
They turned and went their separate ways; Harry and Hermione towards the Gryffindor table and Ruby towards the Slytherin table. She sat down between Daphne and Theodore. Odd that she would volunteer for that, but Harry supposed gathering information couldn't hurt.
Anthony Goldstein and Parvati's twin sister Padma waved at them from the Ravenclaw table; Cedric Diggory offered a greeting, and Harry was relieved to see that the crowd of students appeared not to have thinned out.
Ron and Seamus were busy playing chess when they got to the table, Dean and Neville pointing out openings while Ron attempted to discourage them.
"How was your summer?" asked Hermione. "Knight to G4, Seamus, that way his bishop can't get you."
Ron threw his hands up in annoyance. "It's a two-player game!" He cleared his throat. "Pretty uneventful. Mafalda's been over a lot; she sleeps in Bill's old room sometimes."
"Not check again," Seamus groaned, motioning at a quivering pawn to step in front of his king.
"Queen to D6," said Ron delightedly, and his queen whacked Seamus's king to pieces. "Want another go?"
Seamus scowled. "No! The only thing you like is winning!"
"Fair and square, no less," said Ron and scooped up the fallen pieces. Harry sat down beside him. "So you've been alright cooped up here?"
Harry grimaced in return as Ron gave him a one-armed hug. "Same as ever," he said in a monotone voice. "Everyone's safe?"
"Even the chickens."
Dumbledore clapped his hands twice, and the chatter died out; Ravenclaws first, Gryffindors last, as usual. It was time for Sorting to begin.
The first-years stepped into the Great Hall for the first of many times, their small faces pointed up at the ceiling in shock and awe, some stumbling over the hems of their robes. Some jumped in surprise when the Sorting Hat began to sing about the Founders and their Houses in a raspy, boisterous voice.
"We weren't that small," said Ron in disbelief. Harry was more intrigued by how easy it was to distinguish the blood status of the first-years as the Sorting progressed; the confident pure-blood children, mostly Slytherins and Hufflepuffs, from the nervous Muggle-borns especially.
Once Professor McGonagall lifted the Sorting Hat from the last first-year's head, Dumbledore stepped forward, looking out over the crowd. Harry thought he looked tired.
"Welcome to another year of Hogwarts; despite the circumstances, we persevere. I know these are harrowing times," he began. "But we are all here together now, safe and sound within the walls of Hogwarts. This year, as I am sure you have noticed, our walls have expanded; we are not merely Unplottable to Muggles, but Unfindable to wizards and Dementors alike. Though I would loathe for it to be permanent, which is directly against the Ministry's wishes, we will hold steadfast. Dark and difficult times lie ahead. Soon we must all face the choice between what is right and what is easy." The solemnity seemed to lift from his face slightly. "As always, the Forbidden Forest is forbidden, and the third-floor corridor on the righthand side is off-limits."
"Well, that was his most cheerful speech yet," said Ron as the Welcome Banquet began in earnest. "Didn't say anything about Defence, though."
Hermione shook her head, mouthing, Not here. Out loud, she said: "I've brought some old Daily Prophet issues from the summer if you'd like to get caught up when we get back to the common room, Harry."
"Thanks," he said halfheartedly. Unfortunately, even though the Daily Prophet was Wizarding Britain's foremost newspaper, anything not on the front page generally wasn't worth the paper it was printed on. "Did Umbridge drop dead?" he asked hopefully.
Ron scowled at his plate. "No, half of Britain's warming up to the idea of her as Minister, actually."
"It's not half," Hermione quickly amended. Ron raised an eyebrow. "Well, it's a significant portion. Rita Skeeter writes so much tooth-rooting praise of Umbridge that she's got to be blackmailing her."
"Oh, come on, I'm sure Rita's never met a large paycheck she didn't like. Ginny says you were going to try out for the team again this year," Ron finished brightly.
Why not? Harry shrugged. "I'll give it a go." He swallowed and asked what he hadn't been able to bring himself to. "Heard from Voldemort?"
Slowly, both shook their heads.
"He's been quiet as a mouse," said Ron. "There's been some Death Eater raids, if you could call it that — just his thugs, probably not even acting on orders and heckling anyone who steps foot in Knockurn Alley."
Hermione snorted. "They're complete amateurs — think Crabbe and Goyle."
"Hard to make more havoc than the Dementors."
Harry turned to them. "Think that's his plan?"
"What, that he stole the Dementors from Azkaban, and they're under his command?" asked Ron in a tense whisper. He glanced around. "Ministry's not fond of that sentiment. Percy and Mafalda've been having some spectacular arguments around the dinner table about that recently."
"It's got to be some kind of bargaining chip," said Harry, thinking only of Riddle. "He'll want something from us just when we get really desperate."
He looked out at the crowd of students; they all looked tired but determined. Over at the Slytherin table, it looked like the fourth-years were in an intense debate, mostly surrounding Ruby and Daphne, although Harry was well out of earshot. Surprisingly, Theodore appeared to have abstained.
Pansy was the first to get up and flounce off, the heavy doors slamming shut behind her, retreating back with a loud slam. Blaise and Daphne soon followed, and soon enough, the tables began to empty.
"Password's flibbertigibbet," Nearly Headless Nick announced, floating over their heads as they began to make their way out. Repeating it under his breath, Harry could only wish it was something less tongue-twisting.
"There's something I didn't want to tell you downstairs," Ron began as they made their way towards Gryffindor Tower. "Mafalda said she ran into Ruby last year and him."
Harry stopped in his tracks, gripping the bannister. Hermione, who'd been at least a dozen steps ahead of them, paused, too.
"What happened?"
Ron shrugged. He winced as if he didn't really want to say. "Mafalda ended up getting into a bit of an altercation with Riddle when your sister ran into Dementors. Said he had a scar that said..." He trailed off, looking green in the face. "Mudblood scum. Looked permanently fresh."
"Like a Dark Mark," said Hermione wonderingly. "Do you think that's where he got the idea from?"
It was a dark thought and one he was loathe to consider. Even though it made sense, it also sounded perilously sympathetic.
"Ruby says he's a half-blood," said Harry.
"Besides, he couldn't be a Muggle-born in Slytherin," said Ron.
"Why not? Can't Muggle-borns be cunning and resourceful?" Hermione pointed out. "There's Mafalda, for one. And Ruby was raised by Muggles."
Harry realised the irony in this. "Mafalda's a Prewett. Ruby's a Potter. And Riddle, even if he was raised by Muggles, well, he's the Heir of Slytherin."
Hermione let out an undignified snort and marched up the stairs.
"If Slytherin's still around by any chance, I think I'd like to have a word with him."
When Harry got to breakfast the next morning, Hermione was still in a funny mood. Pansy Parkinson was in addition, conspicuously missing from the Slytherin table, and Professor Sinistra, since she took no morning classes, was relegated to mediating a Peeves-related incident with assistance from the Bloody Baron.
"Who," asked Ron, pointing at the Defence Against the Dark Arts box in his schedule, "is Professor Edgar Gloucester?"
Oh. He had neglected to explain, and Sirius was also missing from the Great Hall for some reason.
"It's Sirius," he whispered.
Ron only stared back at him with eyes as wide as saucers.
He was still somewhat in a state of shock when Sirius entered the Defence classroom at a mere one minute to the hour. His nose looked slightly different, and between the short hair and the five-o'clock shadow, he only bore a pale resemblance to the newspaper photographs.
"Morning, everyone," said Sirius in a rushed tone. He looked out over the classroom again. Theodore Nott glowered at him, then turned to whisper something to Ruby, who stiffened.
"I've heard that Professor Dumbledore was not impressed with the content of the course last year, so I'd like to get a handle on where each year is currently. Heard fourth-years in particular were behind on curses. And I happen to have a thorough background in the study of Dark magic." He grasped at his notes. "If I asked you what the three Unforgivables were, would you be able to tell me— show of hands?"
No one raised their hand, not even Hermione.
"Two of them?" asked Sirius. "One?"
Now, a few people raised their hands — Ruby, Ron, and Theodore amongst them.
"What are they?"
"The Killing Curse." Ruby's voice was clear yet fragile. She glanced at Harry and then looked down at her lap. Sirius's face twisted in discomfort.
"The Imperius Curse," said Ron tentatively. Harry remembered it now; they'd learnt about it second year, along with the origin of his ring.
Theodore had his shoulders thrust back as he gazed steadily at Sirius. "The Cruciatus Curse."
Across the room, Harry saw Neville flinch inexplicably. The tension in the other boy's shoulders did not subside.
"Right," said Sirius solemnly. "The Killing Curse kills instantly, of course, and can only be performed by a witch or wizard powerful enough to summon Death. People who've been in the vicinity of one describe a vast, incredible presence soaring through the air. The Imperius Curse grants the caster total control over the victim, and the Cruciatus Curse causes supreme pain."
Harry's mind flashed back to Cedric at the end of Amycus Carrow's wand.
"There's other sadistic and inhumane magic to speak of, yes, but those three tend to be the surest route compared to more exotic, unique curses. As such, you're more likely to find yourself at the other end of those in a combat situation."
He cleared his throat. "What's the difference between a curse and a counter-curse? Miss Granger?"
Hermione put her hand down. "A curse acts upon a subject; a counter-curse acts upon a curse to undo its effects."
"Ten points to Gryffindor. A counter-curse indeed is used to reverse the effects of a curse. Therefore, counter-curses are an essential part of your repertoire. However, they should not be too heavily relied upon, as the best defence is a good offence."
Sirius rolled up his sleeves and stepped on the other side of his desk, instructing them to all come to the front of the class before moving the furniture except one desk all to one side with a flick of his wand.
"This week, I'd like you all to master the Reductor Curse as a warm-up to the course material. Not very stylish, but dreadfully effective, and, at times, even deadly."
He assumed a fencing-like stance, with his free hand over his hand and arm in front of him, and yelled, "Reducto!"
The desk burst into a fine mist. Some of the class clapped appreciatively; mainly, Slytherins abstained.
"Now, that's what the spell can do. What I'd like you to accomplish by the end of the class is much simpler. As long as you've managed to cleave an object into two pieces, we'll call it a win. Make sure your rock is at least fist-sized—"
At all once, everyone scattered to find a rock from the small mound on the desk to explode.
"Don't bring the ceiling down!" barked Sirius. "And stand at least five feet apart! I doubt Madam Pomfrey would approve of me bringing a student to her in pieces."
A few of the more adventurous students began to attempt it. Blaise's face crumpled in disappointment when his rock only wriggled in response, and Harry scowled when Theodore cracked his in half, neatly down the middle, as if he'd done it dozens of times.
"Good job, Nott," said Sirius, walking by him. He didn't look pleased. "Ten points to Slytherin."
A shit-eating smirk was plastered on Theodore's face, which Harry didn't like the look of at all.
"Reducto!" Hermione's rock cracked, too, but only part of the way down.
"You've nearly got it," said Sirius, who was standing behind them, "but you're too stiff. It's all in the wrist. Curses need a bit of carelessness to them — carelessness, not recklessness, Finnegan! You missed Longbottom by a hair!"
Casting curses still made Harry nervous. His magic had been notoriously slow to settle, nearly killing him when it did. Still, he pointed his wand at the rock, gave it a harsh flick, and said, "Reducto!"
An explosive crack resounded. His rock lay on the floor in four sparkling pieces — it happened to be a geode.
"Not bad for your first try." Sirius clapped him on the shoulder, grinning.
The class wrapped up without incident, and everyone scrambled to get their books after the first bell. Harry noticed Ruby making a beeline to Lavender and Parvati, her things hastily gathered in their arms.
"Daphne's beside herself," she whispered, glancing around, "and Pansy's called her a blood-traitor. I can't be around them for another second. Last night was hell."
She did look a bit tired, Harry thought. But she'd hurried out of the door before he could catch her.
When he mentioned to Ron that they seemed in quite a hurry, he replied grimly: "Divination's next."
Harry's heart sank to his stomach as they bade Hermione goodbye and headed up to the North Tower, where they clambered up a silver stepladder to a circular trapdoor in the ceiling into the Divination classroom.
Classroom was a vast stretch of the imagination, in Harry's opinion. The silk curtains had been drawn closed after Ruby's fire incident during finals, and the air was filled with incense. Many lamps draped in scarves and shawls cast a dim, pinkish light, and students were already seated on chintz chairs and pouffes.
"My dears, it is time for us to consider the stars," said Professor Trelawney suddenly from her perch by the fire in a trance-like voice. "The movements of the planets and the mysterious portents they reveal only to those who understand the steps of the celestial dance. Human destiny may be deciphered by the planetary rays, which intermingle..."
Everyone interested (Harry was not among them) was gleefully flicking through their star charts. Surprisingly, Ruby hadn't moved; the nib of her quill pressed against her bottom lip as if she were concentrating very hard on something unrelated.
Trelawney's misty gaze turned to Harry, who gazed back at her dispassionately.
"You are preoccupied, my dear," she said mournfully to Harry. "My inner eye sees past your brave face to the troubled soul within. And I regret to say that your worries are not baseless. I see difficult times ahead for you, alas. . . most difficult.. . I fear the thing you dread will indeed come to pass. . . and perhaps sooner than you think..."
The thing I dread? There were so many; which could she possibly mean? Harry swallowed hard. Hermione was right; Divination really was a load of nonsense.
"Saturn was surely in a position of power in the heavens at the moment of your birth. . . . Your dark hair. . . your mean stature...tragic losses so young in life. . . I think I am right in saying, my dear, that you were born in midwinter?"
"Ah, yes, Harry," Ron muttered. "You see, when old Saturn's high in the sky, that's when a midget with glasses will be born."
Harry promptly elbowed him in the ribs.
Ruby pressed the nib deeper into her skin, so deep that Harry thought it might bleed. A furrow had formed between her brows. Her eyes had narrowed, eyebrows drawn above them. She did not look impressed.
Yet more surprisingly, she gestured at Harry with her thumb. "He was born at the end of July, Professor," she said dryly. "As the seventh month dies."
Trelawney had gone pale. Harry wondered what could be so terrible about his birthday, but whatever it was, she would surely milk it.
But Trelawney was strangely reluctant.
"T-Then that would correspond to the Sun. Those born in the constellation Leo are generally choleric of temper, as well as lean and quick, w-which would fit..."
"... Because he plays Seeker, Professor!" Lavender added brightly. "Oh, it all makes sense!"
Ruby exhaled sharply. "But cholerics are traditionally redheaded, aren't they, Professor?"
"Turn to your star charts," said Professor Trelawney in an attempt at a commanding yet mysterious whisper. "The heavens await!"
Dutifully, Harry did so. Concentration was futile.
Soft whispers filled the classroom, muttering names of planets and constellations.
He didn't get a chance to speak to Ruby until dinner when he stumbled upon her hiding in an alcove from Daphne and Pansy.
"There you are!" she exclaimed, dragging him next to her and safely behind a suit of armour.
Glaring, he brushed off his clothes, doing his best to look offended.
"What was that you said about the seventh month dies?" asked Harry suspiciously.
"Nothing," said Ruby in a clear, halting voice.
"Don't lie to me."
She flinched, hurt on her face. Harry knew she felt guilty about Riddle still, guilty about what she'd done for him, the secrets she'd had to keep. And furthermore, that deep down, she'd rather not keep anything from him at all.
"There was a prophecy." Her eyes shone strangely bright. "Made from Professor Trelawney to Professor Dumbledore before we were born."
Harry could guess the next bit. She was born on the early morning of the first of August; he an hour earlier, in the last few minutes of the thirty-first of July.
"About me?"
Ruby swallowed thickly.
"Yes. Look, Dumbledore wants me to study with Trelawney, and become a real Seer. But I don't know if I want to."
"Because Trelawney's a fraud?" suggested Harry. That seemed fair enough.
"No, it's mostly because I'd rather not know the future." Her posture sagged. "It's what messed everything up in the first place."
"What? How?"
But she had already swept off into the Great Hall, leaving Harry with only more questions.
Ruby steeled herself before marching over to the Slytherin table.
Mercy of all mercies, Blaise had taken pity on her and inserted himself as a buffer between an equally furious Pansy and Daphne. Theodore seemed unruffled.
Daphne was determinedly stabbing carrots with a fork and refusing to lift them to her mouth. Ruby was often dreadfully upset, too, but didn't see sense in starving oneself.
"Going to finish those?"
Daphne shovelled her carrots into Ruby's plate in response.
The fourth-years remained in utter silence.
Remus Lupin had stood up at the teachers' table, and the chatter in the rest of the hall began to die down.
"Professor Dumbledore has asked me to make an announcement," he began. "We've been implementing changes to the Defence curriculum in order to adapt to current pressures, as I am sure you will have noticed. I'm pleased to announce the formation of a Duelling Club for the third-year and up students. This will provide a chance to practise the skills which you will learn in Defence, as well as real-life duelling."
A few people clapped in approval, mostly Gryffindors.
Ruby watched Theodore twirl his wand absently. He had little need of a Duelling Club; purebloods were schooled in childhood by their parents in the intricacies of wizard duels, and she doubted many of the Sacred Twenty-Eight would much like the idea of Muggle-borns learning their tricks.
Well, they'd just have to grin and bear it.
"You'll be instructed by Professor Snape, Professor, er, Gloucester, and myself. We will meet in the Great Hall immediately after classes once a week; consult the board in your common room for meeting days."
"Lupin teaching duelling?" Blaise snorted. "The sickly librarian who disappears for days every so often with no explanation?"
Ruby opened her mouth and then shut it. She'd seen Lupin cast a corporeal Patronus with her very own eyes (he'd saved her life, in fact) and knew exactly why he had a tendency to disappear once a month. That accursed purple flower of her past was part of a potion that helped Lupin keep his human mind during his monthly transformations, and he could curl up and sleep in a corner like a domesticated wolf.
The dose makes the poison. Flamel was right.
"Oh, cut him some slack," said Daphne bitterly, rubbing at her swollen eyes. "I'll admit it, he does know his stuff."
"Careful, Daph," said Pansy, playing with a butter knife. "If you cosy up to too many half-bloods, you might find your blood getting a bit muddy."
That stung Ruby like salt in an open wound. She flinched, scowling down at the table and gritting her teeth.
Two bright red spots appeared on Daphne's cheeks, and she sprang to her feet, ducked around Blaise, and lunged at Pansy, screaming something unintelligible. However, the effect was instant. Pansy's eyes swelled shut, and she shrieked and shrieked.
The next minute Ruby knew Snape had appeared behind them along with a distraught Madam Pomfrey, who shepherded Pansy away for a dose of Oculus Potion whilst Snape glowered down at Daphne.
"This is highly uncharacteristic, Miss Greengrass."
Daphne continued to stare at the table, tears forming in her eyes. Her face was the image of misery. Even her usually perfectly-set princess curls had pulled out and hung limply around her face.
"Daph, cheer up," said Theodore sympathetically, patting her hand from across the table.
She sniffled.
"Thirty points from Slytherin," said Snape, a difficult expression painted across his face. He seemed to be debating the necessity of additional punishment. "And a week's worth of detention. Your behaviour was unacceptable."
With that, he swept off. Ruby thought he had let Daphne off easy; she'd gotten detention for far less than attacking another student.
"How dare she say that about Tracey," said Daphne, quivering with rage. "She doesn't have the right."
It was low indeed, thought Ruby, for Pansy to talk about half-bloods when Tracey and countless others had died in the Kissed Ward, soulless and alone. No member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight had perished.
But it wasn't about Tracey. It was about all of us.
Ruby thought of her and Theodore's agreement for a truce and wisely kept her mouth shut for the rest of dinner. In addition, she was halfway certain that he was onto Sirius.
On her way out, she had a terrible fright.
There he was, not even hiding. He stood in the middle of the hallway as people seemingly avoided him, as if waiting for something or someone, fiddling with a silver chain looped around his fingers.
She blinked rapidly, her heart beating in her throat. Maybe he wasn't really there. Maybe she was seeing things.
He looked up when he saw her, and with two of his long strides, he stood directly in front of her. He was there indeed, warm and solid and very much not a mere trick of the vision.
Ice ran from Ruby's head all the way down to her toes.
"You're frightened," said Tee, his voice as familiar as ever, a clear, even tenor. It chilled her how his presence was both comfort and fear. He'd been her strongest ally and greatest enemy all at once.
Ruby stuck her nose in the air, glaring up at him. "But I'm not frightened of you."
I must try and entertain him, she thought wearily. At least to find out about Horcruxes like Dumbledore asked me to.
"I can walk you to the Slytherin Dungeon," he offered. "Perhaps you'd show me in?"
It wasn't strictly against the rules. Once a Slytherin, always a Slytherin. It was the identity of said Slytherin that concerned her.
"There'll be too many questions."
"I won't be seen if I don't want to be."
Ruby considered this, how he'd been standing there in the middle of the hallway. Her head spun. Was it magic? Could that explain why he'd been near enough invisible over the summer?
"I'm a Legilimens," he reminded her. Ruby's stomach sunk at the realisation of what that implied.
"You were manipulating all those people not to notice you standing there?"
"Not very much," he said casually, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world. If he could tell she was horrified, he didn't react.
Ruby wasn't sure how comfortable she was with the whole situation, but she acquiesced.
A flash of gold on his neck caught her eye. Suddenly, she couldn't help but think of the locket from the cave and the flickers of her dread-filled vision from her Divination final.
"Could I see your locket?" Ruby took care to keep her voice light. Perhaps seeing it would trigger something.
He stopped walking, gave her an odd, penetrating look, and then nodded stiffly before drawing it out. The large pendant lay sparkling in his palm, heavy gold with an 'S' made of emeralds, just as she'd remembered.
Is this to do with the Horcrux thing? But I don't see what a piece of jewellery has to do with Dark magic unless it's something like what Borgin and Burkes sell.
When she reached a hand out to touch it, he dropped it back into his shirt in a flash.
"Why'd you keep it?" she pressed.
"It's Slytherin's," said Tee curtly, "which makes it mine."
"What's inside it?"
Now, she had struck a nerve. Though she knew Tee was capable of concealing his innermost thoughts if he wanted to, he clearly hadn't bothered, for colour sprang into his face and the tips of his ears.
Emboldened, she pressed further as a terrible thought came to her. If one, why not two? He never explained what sort of accident he was. Is that what a Horcrux is? No one's ever been able to explain Tee. I think Dumbledore might be right. I think he was something unnatural, even before I got involved.
"Is it like the diary?"
"I've never opened it."
But the lie was useless. They both knew it.
"Does it have to do with a Horcrux?" she asked, white-knuckling her hand in terror.
Tee hesitated, a voiceless word upon his lips. She heard a quiet pop.
They had come to the door of the common room.
"I think I'd better go in," said Ruby.
"Yes," said Tee. He turned on his heel and began to walk briskly away.
It was not until she turned in for the night that she discovered that Nott's monocle had shattered into pieces. Perhaps, it had done its job to protect her from Tee's attempt to make her forget their conversation, and now its power was spent.
She sat on the bed, the shards cupped in her hand and her heart thudding against her ribcage.
What have I gotten into now?